Anne stifled a sigh and shoved away the weakness that beckoned it forward. "I would agree with you, save the circumstances we've found ourselves in. We must stay here and save this island from Silver Eyes. These people need us."
"Like hell they do!" Sam shouted, bursting from his seat. "This place can burn. Edward needs us. Ye can try ta convince yerself it's fer those people, but yer not so soft ta risk yer life for a bunch'a farmers."
Anne locked her fingers together and rested her elbows on the arms of the chair in a movement of practiced authority. "You're right," she said. "Edward needs to keep his plan secret. We don't know the details, but we know he needs surprise on his side. The enemy knows our ship, and being in Nassau would risk a battle at sea." She gave the briefest pause for her words to sink in. "And beyond that, these people, with your help, can provide a distraction."
"Aye? And how's that?" Sam asked, placing one hand on his chair as he looked down at Anne, trying to match her presence.
"We make a show of power, and you tell Silver Eyes they need reinforcements to fight us. You convince Silver Eyes you should be the one to head to Nassau and instead back Edward up when he arrives. You and your ship being in Nassau will not raise alarm." Anne took a long breath and a drink, her half-formed plan coming together in her mind. "If Edward's father and his subordinates are as smart as they think they are, then I imagine the main village is a fortress with battlements. A single ship, no matter the size, would pose little threat, but if we choke the food supply on land and at sea, we can starve them. And as no one will be coming to their rescue, we'll eventually take the island for ourselves."
Sam scoffed. "Ye make it sound so easy." Sam began pacing the room as he drank from his cup. After a moment he let out a frustrated grunt, pulled something from his belt wrapped in cloth, and placed it on the table. "If yer gonna stay, you'll need this."
Anne glanced at the mystery wrapped in cloth, then back at Sam. He simply nodded towards it before taking another drink. She took the object and unwrapped it to find a small golden handbell.
"That'll work on the crazed on the island, but not that bastard's men."
Anne did a double take on the small, unassuming bell in her hands as the weight of the ringer took root. "So, this will reverse the trance?"
"The what?"
"The spell that the citizens here are under."
Sam nodded. "Aye, that'll do it," he affirmed. "His men don't have the same spell, though. Whatever they got, it makes 'em tough bastards, but they still got all the goods upstairs," he said, tapping on the side of his head. "The farmers and such're just distractions."
It was Anne's turn to scoff. "We almost died to those distractions."
"That's what that's for," Sam said, pointing at the handbell. "Otherwise, they'll attack everyone."
Anne looked at the handbell with new eyes as the wheels began turning in her head. "Is that so?" she muttered.
She gave the handbell a small ring, and a sharp tone filled their room. It was so wholly unlike its larger brother she had head not a few hours before, but it struck a chord in the centre of her just the same. She felt as though the ring of that bell was pulling her soul forward, the same as when your body moves to join the swell of the wave and the inclination of a ship. Judging by the vacant stare in Sam's eyes and the bulge of his jaw, he felt it too.
After the tone fell away to nothing, Anne's and Sam's wits returned. "This may be useful to ye too." Sam pulled out a silver key from his pocket and placed it in front of Anne. "It's a tight squeeze, but there's a passage on the east of the fort near the waterline. It's there for a flanking attack should the fort be breached, and that key will let you past the gate. Don't think about bringing any cannons, the reef'll kill 'em."
Anne rose from her seat, dropping with it her all the authority and bluster she had previously mustered, and embraced Sam. "Thank you, Sam. With these, we'll surely win."
Sam's generally cool facade blew over, and he looked flushed. "I ain't done nothin' but what a man ought. Don't go givin' me a big 'ead over it."
Anne smiled. "Happy to see you alive nonetheless. After all this is over, we'll have a feast, and you can tell us all about your adventures with your merry men, Mr. Hood."
Sam chuckled. "Aye, that we will, my Queen."
After another brief embrace, Sam walked towards the door of the captain's quarters before looking over his shoulder. "Prepare yer men. After I convince me crew, we'll need to make a show of it."
It was Anne's turn to be confused. "What do you mean?" she asked as she joined him.
"Can't go on back to Silver Eyes ta convince him we need reinforcements without a bit'a damage, now can we?" he replied. "A short skirmish oughta be just the ticket. We can damage the ship ourselves, but without some live fire for 'em ta hear, it won't seem real. Jus' a little smoke, s'all."
"Just a little smoke? Happy to oblige." Anne held out her hand, and Sam shook it. "Oh, and take this with you." Anne removed the scabbard and golden cutlass from her hip and handed it to Sam.
Sam took the cutlass in hand, lifting it slightly out of its scabbard to see the golden hue of the mysterious metal before returning it to its resting place. "It'll soon be in its owner's hands."
The two left the captain's quarters and assembled the crew on the deck. It took some time for the men to settle and for Sam to talk with a few of his old friends, but eventually, they were able to explain the plan. Sam's crewmates who joined him appeared to already have his approval, and after they went back and convinced the rest to join in, they would signal the Queen Anne's Revenge by raising the black. Once the Queen Anne's Revenge was prepared, they too would raise the black, and their 'battle' would commence.
With all the details decided, Sam and his crewmates went back to their ship, and Anne and the crew waited. And waited. And waited still.
"It's taking too long," Christina said as she petted her wolf Tala. The two were leaning against the quarterdeck railing and watching the bobbing of the Whydah off the stern.
Anne had her spyglass trained on the other ship. Sam and the other crewmates were talking on the weather deck, but she couldn't make out the details. "They're just talking."
"Maybe some in the crew don't like the thought of betraying Calico Jack," Christina commented.
"Or Benjamin Hornigold," Pukuh added as he came up beside Anne to observe the other ship.
Anne took her attention away from the spyglass and glanced over at Pukuh. Pukuh looked gravely serious as he turned his gaze back to Sam's ship.
"You may be right," Anne replied.
An unmistakable crack met Anne's ears, sending an alert down her spine. She reached for the cutlass at her side as she looked over her shoulder. The other crewmates, the lot of them, even Tala, had their ears perked and brows furrowed from the noise.
Anne went back to the spyglass and found the source of the noise. She could just barely make out the figure of Sam with his jet-black hair and a smoking pistol in his hand. He was standing stock still, and Anne thought she could see his other hand holding a sword at his side.
"What happened?" Christina asked.
"Sam executed a crewmate." You said you were no fool, Sam. I hope you know what you're doing.
"Let us hope that man lacked mates," Pukuh said.
Anne didn't reply. She tensed her jaw as she watched the scene on the other ship unfolding.
Sam put his pistol away and brandished his sword, gesturing with it as he spoke. After a moment or two, the crew went into action. Some took the body of the dead crewmate and tossed him overboard, as others raised the anchor and prepared the ship for sailing.
Sam, still holding fast to his sword, walked up to his own quarterdeck. Halfway up the steps, he turned and looked over at Queen Anne's Revenge. Sensing or seeing all the eyes on him, he openly shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Anne couldn't see through the spyglass, but she felt he was grinning.
Anne chuckled despite herself. "You dammed fool," she muttered.
After a time, and a flurry of activity, the Whydah raised the black flag on its tallest mast. The simple skull of death with crossed bones, similar but different enough from Calico Jack's crossed cutlasses, waved in the wind at them.
Anne put away her spyglass and turned around to the crew, who had gathered around when the gunfire sounded. "Let fly the black. Load starboard, men! We've some smoke to make."
10. Warning Signs
"What happened out there?" Herbert asked.
Edward had returned from the excursion onshore with Grace and was now below deck with Herbert and John. They were huddled in a corner near the ladder leading up to the weather deck, Edward sitting on the lip of a barrel and John standing next to him with Herbert in his chair holding tight to the nearby cargo.
"Grace killed a bunch of thieves who had stolen something from her, or someone else. I wasn't privy to the details."
Edward still felt tense from the encounter. Aside from the few minor altercations aboard the Black Blood, it had been some time since he had been involved in a real battle. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Thankfully, Herbert and John both let him alone for that moment he needed to channel that feeling of floating. It came more naturally this time, and he was able to hold it for longer than any other time save the first time when he had been near fainting from exhaustion.
"Does everyone aboard know about the captain's greaves?" Edward asked John.
John's eyes widened. "She used them?" He seemed shocked at the notion, but soon let out a low whistle. "Whoever it was must have irked her something fierce. She rarely uses them."
Edward laughed. "The man was irksome, that much is sure. And whatever it was that he stole, it's been returned."
John let out a sigh. "That's a relief, but it also means you two are about to meet him."
Edward took a moment to register John's meaning. "Calico Jack?" he asked to be sure.
John nodded. "We were tasked with retrieving something stolen from him, but don't ask me what it was. All I know is it was important, and when Mad Jack Rackham tells you to sail, all you ask is how far." John's tone was light, but Edward could tell there was a hint of anger in his voice. That hint spoke to a feeling he dared not utter on a ship full of men in Calico Jack's employ.
Perhaps… "You've met the man?" Edward asked, his attempt to pry open that shaded window subtle.
Herbert understood the game, leaning forward to whisper. "I've heard that he's… well." He paused to flash a concerned look to Edward and John. "Well… that he's not to be trifled with."
John's mouth became a line. "Yes, well, I will say that you are right. And as you're new to the crew, you'll have to meet with him before you're truly considered a mate. If there's one piece of advice I can give you: don't question him, but don't simply bow to him either. He likes to have men he can trust, but who also have a backbone." John rolled his shoulders and glanced at his sides to ensure there were no ears nearby. "Whatever happens, if he tries to play his hunting horn, just run. Run as far as you can and escape the island by any means."
Edward knew the horn John was referring to, but the sudden nature of his dire warning took him aback. His mouth went slack as he searched for words a person who shouldn't know of the horn would say, but it didn't seem to matter, as John took it differently.
John shook his head. "No questions, not here. It's not safe. Just remember to run."
Before Edward or Herbert could say another word, John was already walking away and beckoning them to join him.
Could there be more to the horn than just a signal? Those men and women in the tavern… Anne said they seemed in a trance. Was it the horn's doing?
Before Edward could ruminate on his questions too long, Herbert was nudging him forward and out of his thoughts. Edward glanced at Herbert, who motioned with his chin towards John's backside. Edward nodded, and the two went to the crew's quarters to eat.
The meal, as it had been the time before and the time before that, was a stew of salted beef with various vegetables and the spiced pepper that burned Edward's tongue. Edward threw all his ship's biscuits into the stew at once to soak up the spice, and it seemed to work. Either that or he had become used to the heat of that foreign pepper after so many times.
After the meal, Edward and Herbert were about to make their way above deck for the next shift of the crew, but a mate stopped them.
"Captain's orders," he said as he stopped Edward with a hand on his chest. "Get yer rest, yer useless to her if yer dead on yer feet."
Edward glanced at Herbert and John, who were both as shocked as he. "Truly?"
The mate nodded. "Aye." The mate glanced back and forth all the way over his shoulder and then leaned forward to whisper as best as he could in Edward's ear. "She's taken a shine to ye, so be sure and not refuse her… if ye catch my meanin'." The man winked before taking the crewmates above for the next watch.
"What do you suppose he meant by that?" Herbert asked.
Edward's gaze went from Herbert and fell on John, but John shrugged and seemed as dumbfounded by the exchange as the others.
It didn't take long for Edward and Herbert to stop worrying over the mystery and sleep in their hammocks. The gentle rocking of the ship and normal noises of a bustling machine of wood and men lulled Edward to sleep surprisingly quickly.
Edward awoke in what felt like an instant, the ache of his muscles and bones hitting his whole body immediate and with a fury. After a few stretches as he awoke and readied for work, the pain was mostly gone.
Edward and John's work and rest schedules were now aligned and, together with Herbert, the men went above deck to tend to the ship in the dead cold of the night.
The other crewmates working nights with them were a more amicable sort than Edward had dealt with for most of his time aboard the Black Blood, and so the work was lax and the conversation genial. Edward, Herbert, and John learned more about John and his time aboard the ship, but the conversation steered clear from any mention of Calico Jack's mysterious horn.
John told some fantastical stories of battles against the Spanish off the coast of Honduras, where they were secretly paid by the British for each ship sunk. They performed so well that the British couldn't pay and agreed to turn a blind eye to the pirates' other activities.
During one such battle, Grace's pistols jammed, and she was forced to use her greaves where she single-handedly killed five Spaniards at once. After that, so it was told, the Spanish began calling her Gracia de la Muerte, or Death's Grace.
He also told of the time where a third of the crew swore they had seen a ghostly ship on a foggy night, which they pursued despite the danger. They eventually came upon an empty vessel, full sail and cargo, drifting at sea, no crew anywhere to be seen. Even Grace, not one to be superstitious, was rattled and ordered the ship burned, cargo and all.
One thing missing from each of John's stories was the man himself. His version of events seemed to not have a place for him, save as an observer, as though he were inconsequential.
When pressed to hear a story about him, John reluctantly obliged. He told a story about when he helped an orphaned girl being accosted by bandits in a town the crew had stopped in. The girl fled with the crew aboard the ship, for fear that the bandits would just come back against her after they had left.
"What happened then?" Herbert asked.
John's mouth parted for a moment before his lips twisted into a sad smile. "Her ending was something I would not wish to revisit."
Edward and Herbert shared a look after John's comment and changed the subject.
The two shared their own stories, taking care to not let slip anything too detailed to allow John, or any eavesdroppers, to glean who they were. When those stories seemed exhausted, Herbert weaved a few tales plucked from the sea air itself that involved the Blackstad brothers in their prime. The tale he told was so full of bravado and wild fancy it beggared belief, but after the ghost ship story, it may not have mattered much.
>
Over three days, it was the same routine. Edward could rest and work as a normal crewmate instead of working for two as he had before, and he, Herbert, and John all shared their time together aboard. When they weren't working hard on the ship, they shared their stories, talked about life aboard a ship, tips for managing the needs of their wooden estate, and sometimes just a relaxing silence.
Edward also noticed that his sleep came easier each time he lay down, and he awoke less and less in the middle of his slumber. The feeling of overwhelming dread left him, and he often found his flask full at the end of the day.
On the third day, before Edward went to work again, he was called to the captain's quarters by one of the mates.
"Why does Grace want to speak with me?" he asked.
"That's for her to know," the mate replied. "Don't keep her waitin'."
Edward glanced over his shoulder at Herbert and John, and they both had stern looks on their faces though Edward suspected it was for different reasons. Edward steeled himself as he followed the mate past the surgeon's room, past the ladder to the weather deck, and over to a small cabin at the bow of the ship.
As he made the walk, he quickly ran through their backstory, what little they had come up with, in his head. He also checked the weapons at his side, cutlass and knife, should he need them. If it came to that, though, they were already dead. He couldn't kill everyone aboard a ship eighty strong. He was confident in his abilities, but that was impossible.
The mate knocked on Grace's door, and when she gave the word, he opened the door for Edward. "Blackstad here to see you, ma'am."
"Thanks, Richard," she said before she waved him away.
Edward watched as the mate closed the door behind him, noticing a broad grin on his face as he did so. He didn't like that grin. As tense as he was in enemy territory, if the mate were expressionless as William, he would have felt the same. The grin just made it more explicit.
"Sit," Grace commanded, pointing to a chair across from the table.
As Edward stepped forward to take a seat, he glanced around the room. It was small and spartan, as it had to be aboard a brigantine, but it was larger than it would be in a sloop. The only light in the room came from a few hanging lanterns and two windows at the back.
Blackbeard's Family Page 14
