Sea of Treason (Pirate's Bluff Book 1)

by Stacey Trombley

No response.

  "You one of them, eh?"

  I peak through the gaps between stairs. If I bend my head just so I can kind of catch a glimpse. Whitley shakes her head, but this angle is anything but comfortable.

  "He teach you to call them?"

  My muscles cramp, but I force my body to stay in this painful position. Whitley shrugs. As the shooting pain crescendos, I shake my head, releasing the tension in my neck, only to hit my temple into the bottom corner of a beam. "Ow."

  "What'd you see?" Emory asks. He's the youngest of the crew, only a few years my elder, but arguably the bravest.

  "Says she's not a siren. Wouldn't answer the rest."

  Emory shakes his head. "I don't buy it."

  "She'd have eaten us by now, eh? If she were one." I don't want them to think she is a siren, because that would put a different sort of target on her back. Best for them to be afraid but not too afraid.

  "Maybe she were just waiting."

  "Well, now would be the time, wouldn't it? Before we take her to Stede. She's free of the bindings...if we live out the night."

  "Yeah, if."

  "Come on out, lads!" The captain calls, and we all scramble to get out of our awkward hiding place before we’re seen by the rest of the crew. Once out though, I hang back, not wanting to be the first to approach.

  He turns his back to Whitley, facing the crew as we gather around. "Head’s up, lads. We need the girl and Bluff in order to make the deal for Rosemera. We don't know what either of 'em are capable of, so we won't risk it. Girl isn't touched, hear me?"

  I let out a breath. The men around me groan.

  "But we don't have Bluff," someone calls.

  "We do. We all know he's here somewhere."

  "But where? Could be any one of us!" Barn’s red hair wiggles as he looks around. "I mean, it's not me! But..."

  "Exactly. So, each and every one a’ you will be locked below." Now the groans are sincere along with a few shouted complaints of unfairness. It won't be a pleasant trip, all locked below, but I'm actually impressed with the solution. "It's only a day's sailing. Sails are fixed well enough to make it with minimal crew, so the rest of you'll spend the next day in your quarters, door bolted until we reach our rendezvous."

  "How will we find the boy even then?"

  "Sirens won't come while were docked, will they? We'll use the girl to weed him out then."

  I swallow. The plan is too clever. Too good.

  How will I communicate with Whitley about the island if I'm locked below? Even if she could find her way down to the crew's quarters, how could she find me? I won't have the chance to signal to her which crew member I am without someone else finding out.

  Breaking out from below will be tricky business, to say the least. And I can't be caught trying or we’re back to where we were.

  This isn't looking good.

  Whitley

  My relief is heavy as I'm tied back into my original position on the main mast. My entire body feels weighted, my skin thick. Every breath takes effort.

  I wish Bluff were here with me, but I’m simply relieved I made it through the hour unscathed. I don't know where our escape plan lays, though. Did Bluff get what he needed before he was discovered? Is him being locked below going to be a huge deterrent? We only have one day left before we reach Stede. It’s midday, and I have to assume tonight will be our last chance at a successful escape attempt. I don't know where this island is, or how to find it. Even if I could make it into the captain's quarters, I wouldn't have any clue how to read the maps.

  The deck is tranquil with nearly the entire crew stuck below. I've only seen three pirates out and about in the last hour: the captain, of course, Timmons and a young pirate named Jimmy, who appears only a few years older than Bluff and me. He has a shark tattoo on his forearm, but otherwise I wouldn't necessarily peg him as a pirate. With a good bath, he'd make a fairly handsome and kind-looking fellow.

  I'm not sure why these two are the only allowed to remain free. For whatever reason, the captain must believe wholeheartedly Bluff did not compromise them.

  For now, I'm going to assume I need to enact this plan on my own.

  One good thing about our current situation, I've realized, is that the captain is much looser with his tongue with so few crew members around. And more importantly, without Bluff around. He doesn't seem to mind discussing the rendezvous point around me. Not much of a risk, I suppose, to let the girl who's never even been to the Caribbean overhear that they're meeting near Freeport.

  Surprisingly, I have heard of Freeport, mostly from stories of pirates in the past. Times have changed in the last hundred years. Then, it was huge pirate port. These days? Not so much. Just flying a pirate flag nearby could be a massive risk. So my guess is that when they say near Freeport, they mean in that general vicinity. It’s likely some smaller, hidden pirate port on a nearby island.

  Either way, since I don't actually know where we are now, or how far south a Caribbean island like Grand Bahama would be... well, they're probably right in not worrying about giving me that information. I couldn't do anything with it even if I knew exactly where we were headed.

  I do know that the Bahamas have tons and tons of islands, and we just need some small island to pass. So it's still good news, regardless.

  They also talk of a cove that's very shallow and will require delicate handling of the ship. They’ve discussed a few options on how they'll navigate that issue when the times comes. With the entire crew locked up, docking will be tricky even in ideal conditions.

  Between my moments of spying, I work on unknotting my bindings, which I expected to be especially tricky, maybe impossible, but apparently my siren song unnerved the crew enough they were rather hasty with tying me back up. The knots are loose and fairly easy to untangle.

  Sometime around midafternoon, I spy land in the distance. My heart leaps, but I quickly realize there is no way I could get us both free and onto that island in time, even if we could remain unexposed. I'm going to need to get to Bluff long before we reach our escape point, but not so long that someone notices anything amiss. The timing is going to be tricky.

  Still, I use it to my advantage and spy on anything I can manage. Like the captain giving brief instruction to the young Jimmy about how to distinguish shallow water. Keeping this close to the larger islands is the quickest route, but also more dangerous. They'll be passing several reefs he'll need to wary of.

  When he is at the helm, which will be much more often given the amount of crew available, he needs to be sure we don't travel too close to any shores or risk running aground.

  That information very well may be the key to my escape plan. Hopefully, I'll be able to find those same clues once the sun goes down. That may be the trickier bit.

  Bluff

  The crew’s grumblings are ceaseless. It takes everything in me not to tell them all off as they complain about every little thing.

  It's so dark.

  I can't feel the spray of the ocean down here.

  Lars always stinks up the place and we can't even go get a breath of fresh air.

  This is one day of their long lives. In two days’ time, everything will be back to normal for them. Me? I very well may be meeting a never-ending nightmare. I'll get to watch Whitley tortured until she consents to help them control me. Then, the rest of my life will be spent enslaved by a mother that hates me and the most notoriously sadistic pirate of our time.

  I have something to complain about. They don't.

  It's not even like we're locked in the brig. We get our own beds, with our belongings and food and rum. These boys are spoiled, indeed.

  I lay on Ink's bunk, thinking through contingency plans. I need to break out of here, but how do I do that with a dozen crew piled on top of each other? How can I do anything without being seen? May have been easier if I'd chosen a natural loner. At least then they wouldn't think much of it if I disappeared for a few hours at a time. Ink and his big mouth—they'd noti
ce.

  "Hey, Ink!"

  I sit up to find Lucky Seven smiling at me, and I resist the muscles in my face turning into a sneer. Of course it would be him calling me.

  "What?" I grumble, playing off that I'm annoyed at the situation as much as the next guy. Which I guess I am. But mostly, I really don't want to talk to him.

  "How’s about a game?”

  I raise my eyebrows. "What sort?"

  "Liar’s dice, with rum." He winks.

  I hold back a smirk. No one is better at liar’s dice than me. Most crews won't even allow me to play anymore. Unfair, they say. Except, this time, they don't know it's me.

  I stand, allowing a smile to spread across my face. I work to make it a goofy one, not too telling that I'm eager to beat them.

  I pull up a crate and settle in next to the empty whiskey barrel we use as a table.

  "Loser drinks," are the only instruction we get. Lucky Seven places a massive rum bottle in the middle of our makeshift table.

  Now I have my plan. There are six men crowded around the table, including myself. Two others are in the corner drinking rum all on their own. That's seven men that will be sleeping off drink for the rest of the night. It's not the whole crew, but it's a large enough portion it'll leave me with an easy escape.

  We each have cups in which we roll our three dice, then peak at only our own.

  "Two fives," Lars says. It's a guess at how many fives there are— total. You only get to know your own, but you bet on all the dice on the table, including the fifteen you can’t see. If you bid too many and get caught in the lie, you lose.

  I'm next. I don't have any fives. My choices are to make a higher bid or call him a liar. With eighteen dice in play, there's no way I'd call him a liar at so low a number. I can take an easy route and only bid a number I have. Or I could lie and lead someone in the wrong direction.

  "Four fives,” I say. It's a gamble. Forces the next guy to bid very high—hopefully sticking to fives, assuming Lars and I both have some. Unless he calls me a liar, in which case he very well may win.

  They key to liar's dice isn't lying or telling the truth—it's remaining unpredictable. If they know you lie every time, they'll have the upper hand. If they know you tell the truth every time, they'll have an even bigger advantage. So, do both. Never let them know which one you're doing when. That's how you win.

  Lucky Seven is after me and narrows his eyes. "Six fives," he says after a long moment.

  Stevie belly laughs. "Liar!" he calls.

  We all expose our dice. There are four fives total—his six bid was too high.

  "Shit!" Lucky Seven yells, tossing his cup. Stevie steals one of his die and hands him the bottle. He chugs.

  Great start.

  Except that Lucky Seven stares at my exposed dice. His eyes narrow, and I’d bet my last gold coin he’s noticed that I didn't have a single five. His eyes travel up to mine, unblinking.

  The breath rushes from my lungs, realizing something a bit too late.

  They know Bluff is good at this game.

  They know Bluff is down here somewhere.

  What better way to weed me out than to play a game I can't resist dominating? One round is meaningless. But if I keep winning...

  It's a much better tactic than hurting Whitley, I will say. But I still can't let them succeed, which means I can't win or this game will end with me tied up in a corner, and that’s if I’m lucky. I blink back this reality. I guess that plan of mine wasn't such a good one after all.

  I must stay in character, I think, clenching my jaw. Right now, I'm Ink.

  Ink would certainly play dice, but Ink would also certainly lose.

  I suspect there is going to be a lot of rum in my near future.

  Whitley

  A massive moon rises overhead as the sky fades to a deep blue, and I know now is the time. If I don't find a way to reach Bluff and get off this ship without being noticed before the sun rises, I'll be meeting the pirate who has haunted my dreams for weeks.

  Despite the rumor's implication that Bluff will be fine after our "trade"—and I won't—I somehow get the feeling the deal poses the greatest risk to Bluff. I don't even know what that would mean. What secrets could he truly be hiding that hold that much danger? The feeling in my body, mind, soul, tells me I must save him.

  Regardless of my strange instincts, there is one basic truth that's as crystal clear as the Caribbean water we're now sailing through—we must escape from this ship. After that, well, things get a bit murkier. There's a lot that I don't know, and the deeper I go into this mystery, the darker it gets.

  But answers must come second.

  First, we escape. Then perhaps I can dig and uncover the truths hiding from me.

  After spending the whole day loosening the knots, I easily pull my hands of the itchy ropes. I twisted myself back in hours ago, pretending to be bound in case anyone looked too closely. Now that I have an opportune moment, I'm unrestrained in an instant.

  Now for the hard part.

  I stand and take a good look around. I haven't seen another pirate for nearly an hour, since the captain headed to his quarters for the night. There are two others about somewhere, which is infinitely better than the dozen there would be otherwise—but there are still two sets of eyes that could ruin everything.

  I begin towards the railing, but after just one step I realize I have one major issue. The clink of my shoes is entirely too loud. After a smirk reminiscent of the first time I met Bluff, and my "clickity shoes," I sit to rip off the white leather boots. Bare feet are much quieter. The liberty it gives my toes is a happy side-effect.

  Then, I resume my mission. At the edge of the railing, I look down at the water. Dark blue waves crash into the side of the ship, white caps fading back to black. Otherwise, there isn't much to see. The sea looks dark as can be, and I can't tell if that's because we're in deep water or simply because it's night time. Will I be able to distinguish the shallower areas without the light of the sun? I'm unsure.

  I tiptoe farther back, closer to the helm where I'm guessing at least one pirate will be posted through the night. Two quiet voices drift my way. If the captain is truly sleeping, that means the only two I have to worry about are just ahead, making this part fairly easy.

  "From here, you just need to keep your southeast heading and we'll have a wide berth from the reefs of the Crown."

  I creep closer to Timmons' voice; no doubt he's speaking to Jimmy, what with the instructing tone.

  "We'll pass that around midnight. Captain will be up an hour or two later to steer us into the Cays."

  I peek up at them from my lower vantage point and see Jimmy nod, his face pale in the moonlight.

  "You'll be fine, mate. See you in a few hours."

  "What about the girl? Won't she be trying to escape tonight?"

  Timmons shoots a glance back and forth like he doesn't like those words being uttered aloud. "It would be her best time. But she may not know that. I find it unlikely she'll make it far without Bluff's help."

  I roll my eyes, determination filling my chest. Let me prove them wrong.

  "I'll check on her before I head in, then just make an hourly check and you'll be fine."

  That means I must be back in my bindings right now, before Timmons sees my empty place on the mast. I flee from my spot in the shadows and tiptoe quickly back to the main mast, where I put my arms behind my back and pull the ropes over my wrists, twisting them into some semblance of a knot. Then I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my forehead onto them, pretending to be asleep.

  I listen to Timmons' footsteps as he approaches, the pounding of my heart nearly overpowering the sound. He stops in front of me, and I don't trust my face not to expose something, so I don't bother looking up.

  He lets out a huff of laugh. "Not a chance," he mumbles, then marches past.

  I grit my teeth, but don't lift my head until a few minutes pass, just in case. Once I feel confident that he's gone, I pull m
y arms back out of the ropes and head straight to the door of the berth-everything beneath the main deck, where, right now, all the crew are stuck until we dock.

  There is a rusty padlock on the door.

  I purse my lips. It would be fairly easy to break it off. Its half eroded anyway, but that would cause more noise than is ideal. Realistically, I need to find Bluff, tell him what I know, and get off the ship long before we're discovered. We can't be heard. At all.

  If any of the crew figure out that we're in the process of escaping before we're long gone, they'll be able to find us too easily. Swimming to shore will take a long time. They'd reach the shore before we do if we're found out.

  So any alert at all, would be very bad.

  I grip the lock in my hand and shake it slightly, but it's a little firmer than it looks. I tap it with my fingers while I think. My father was a thief with many talents. Though he preferred to be a con-artist, he was also a rather talented lock-pick when I was younger, and though I'd never tried my hand at it, he had told me a thing or two.

  I just need something small to insert into the key hole to pry the lever inside into the right position. An old lock like this shouldn't be too difficult.

  My mind goes immediately to my hair. It's been days since the ball, and I'm certain nearly all the pins are long gone, but it's such a rat’s nest of tangles and so sticky from the salty air that I may get lucky.

  I push my fingers through the kinks as the wind whips it around, causing even more of a mess. One hard piece sticks to the knot at the end of one of my curls. It takes more effort to pull the pin from my hair than it did to get my wrists free of the pirates’ "expert" knots.

  I smirk like Bluff at that thought.

  When I finally pull the pin free, I go to work on the lock. It takes longer than I’d like to maneuver the little metal piece to the right position, but I finally hear the click, and the lock falls off into my left hand.

  A rush of success fills me. To hell with those pirates who think I can't do anything.