The Devil's Tide

by Tomerlin, Matt

  He took a step forward, rage seething in his breast. The shovel was sticking out of the sand before him, where he had thrust it, and he had half a mind to grab it and lunge at her before she could draw her sword. He wouldn't make the same mistake again. This time he would beat her senseless before raping her. And after that, maybe he would drown her in the lake and leave her corpse to rot, with fishes nibbling her beauty away. "You're a dreadful person."

  She set her hand on the hilt of the sword in her belt. "Only on the inside." She cocked her head keenly. "Would that I could say the same of you."

  His teeth mashed together, the pressure sending a fresh torrent of pain into his nose. He did his best to ignore it, but he felt water lining in his eyes. "I can only imagine what horrors dwell inside you."

  She bubbled with laughter. "And only hours ago you were so desperate to get inside me. Or did I misread that? You were so very subtle, dashing me with a shovel, and all."

  "Not nearly subtle enough, it seems," Hornigold grated. "I should have dashed harder. How is it you are not hunched in agony?"

  "No need to question your strength, Benjamin," she said, rubbing the side of her head. "My skull still throbs from the blow, but the pain is slight compared to the memory of a pirate chewing through my ear."

  "I should have finished what that man started and gone for the other."

  She ruffled her hair and then straightened her shirt, fitting it back into her breeches where it had come loose. "There are many things you should have done, and far too many things you should not have done." She opened her hand to a narrow path leading away from the waterfall. "After you."

  They followed the little path around the mountain, a steep crag on one side and dense jungle on the other. Hornigold crushed the shirt against his nose for a long time, and finally his nose seemed to stop bleeding. He sniffed too sharply, and a stab of pain shot into his skull, as if someone had jammed an icicle up one of his nostrils. He leaned against the rocky wall, hissing through his teeth.

  "You look like you're going to fall over," Lindsay said from behind.

  The thought of his hands around her throat as her face turned purple, squeezing until her eyes bulged and all life escaped her, was all that kept him standing. His head was impossibly heavy, his back ached, and his legs were unsteady and numb. He would not collapse in front of her, not when she strutted about without a care in the world, seemingly oblivious to the pain she claimed he had dealt.

  "I can stand just fine, thank you," he said.

  He lowered his head, and a tiny droplet of blood splattered the sand. His nose hadn't stopped bleeding after all. He frowned. "We're close."

  "Are you sure, or are you just following your nose?"

  He threw a caustic look her way. Her head was down, hair in front of her face as she giggled softly. "I couldn't help it," she said.

  He pointed down at the sand before him. "There are footprints here."

  Her head shot up. She rushed over to his side, hand firm on the hilt of her sword. My sword, Hornigold reminded himself.

  A tree arched above, leaning against the cliff face to form a protective canopy that must have kept the footprints from being completely washed away. The hollows were soft around the edges, but the imprints of boot heels were unmistakable.

  Hornigold exchanged a glance with Lindsay, his pain momentarily forgotten. "Someone came this way."

  They continued in the same direction, finding hollowed prints here and there, wherever there was tree cover. Eventually, the scattered prints led them to a beach that Hornigold assumed was on the opposite side of the island, for he could not see his ship anywhere on the horizon. The sky was brightening fast, a violet veil spreading from the east. The footprints vanished entirely in the sand, and Hornigold was once again acutely aware of the throbbing in his face. He sighed in frustration, but Lindsay seemed unworried. She searched about until she found another path into the jungle, then motioned for him to follow her in.

  He delved in after her, whacking at massive leaves with the shovel. The leaves always swayed right back with a vengeance, smacking him in the face. If only he had his sword, he'd shorten these stubborn leaves and maybe Lindsay's head along with them.

  She was ahead of him now, focused on the ground, pushing leaves out of her path. "More prints," she said. "We're getting close."

  "Yes, but close to what? One chest? There are many."

  "One confirms the rest."

  "Then you admit you are uncertain there are any chests at all!"

  She turned, scowling at him. "I admit nothing. I already know what we'll find here, Benjamin. The evidence is trailed beneath your feet, yet still you doubt me. Your skepticism puzzles me, considering how easily you were coerced out of your duties."

  "A man makes mistakes."

  "You make more than most, but taking me at my word was not one of them."

  "We'll see," he grumbled.

  They continued on in silence. Hornigold's anger mounted with each leaf he shoved out of his face. The ground began to slope upward, presumably toward the summit. Hornigold's legs burned, and his calves ached. He was starting to think they might end up right back where they started. He glimpsed the dim blue sky through the jungle canopy and one faint star that would be swallowed by the light of the sun in the next half hour. How long had they been out here? Six hours? Hornigold's men were probably waking by now, wondering where he had gotten off to. Or maybe they no longer cared, and they were searching for the treasure on their own. Maybe they'd found a few chests already and were preparing to leave without him. More for them.

  Just then the jungle opened onto a small clearing, little more than ten paces in diameter, where the parted canopy gave view of the sky and the summit towering above. The ground was caked with dried mud, strangely matted at the center. "Shovel marks," Lindsay nearly shouted, grinning at him.

  Hornigold wasted no time. He plunged his shovel into the center of the clearing, where the mud formed a small mound. The dirt was thick and tightly packed. The first dozen or so thrusts were the hardest, and the muscles in his arms quickly started to ache. All the while, Lindsay just paced beside him, watching impatiently and biting a thumbnail. He glanced sideways and saw her eyes gleaming hungrily. She had found her prize, but she would have been nowhere without him. Let her be happy. Let her think all is well. Let her drop her guard. And then strike. He would have his revenge for being humiliated. Lindsay would never leave this island.

  Digging seemed easier the deeper he went. Maybe the ground was softening, or maybe he was just getting used to the motion. Then his shovel made a soft, squishy sound. Hornigold glimpsed something pink and red and soft beneath the shovelhead. He tossed the shovel aside and dropped into the three foot pit he had dug, kneeling to inspect whatever he had uncovered. He poked at the object and recoiled as juicy flesh slid from bone. A nauseating aroma filled his nostrils. He saw a face in the dirt, a face that his shovel had cleaved nearly in half, from ear to ear. The eyes were gone, empty hollows packed with dirt. The jaw was gaping open, much of the right cheek had rotted away, and rows of teeth were visible through the holes. Stringy blonde hair tumbled from a dented scalp. The hole in the center of the dead man's forehead was unmistakable. An earthworm slithered out of the hole and dangled from it, glistening wet.

  Hornigold leaned to one side and heaved violently, until the contents of his stomach erupted from his mouth. The vomit collected in a mottled brown pool beside the dead man's face. Hornigold scrambled out of the pit and leaned against one of the trees on the perimeter of the little clearing.

  "Oh my god," Lindsay gasped. "That's Cunningham."

  Hornigold wiped chunks of food from his lips and set his forehead against the tree. He focused on the texture of the tree trunk, hoping that would distract his mind from what he had just seen. "You're sure?" he managed.

  "I dunno who else it would be," Lindsay said.

  Hornigold heard a plop. Lindsay had dropped into pit, her arms moving. The shovel was besi
de the pit. Now was his chance, the best he was likely to get. Lindsay had said Cunningham had died because he discovered who she was. He had died for her. It was only fitting they share a grave. Hornigold pushed himself away from the tree and shambled toward the pit, eyes locked on the shovel.

  "Yeah," she said. "It's Cunningham alright." She continued moving her arms, her brow creasing beneath the bandana. Hornigold bent down and wrapped his fingers around the shovel. She kept on moving her arms, focused on her task. He moved closer, until the tips of his boots were at the edge of the pit. She was bent over the corpse, a bit of her neck exposed as her hair fell away on either side. She grunted as she lifted the corpse out of the dirt, moving it aside a little, but the dead man was too heavy for her.

  The shovel fell from Hornigold's grasp, landing at his feet. "Is that what I think it is?"

  Lindsay leered over her shoulder. "I'm not sure you're cut out for this sort of work, Benjamin. It's a good thing you haven't killed me yet, like you've been planning, because you'd probably walk away without digging any deeper." Before she could goad him further, he leapt down to join her. He hefted Cunningham's corpse and thrust it out of the pit. The skin sank beneath his fingers, and he felt another wave of nausea rising to his throat, but he had nothing left to retch. He helped Lindsay scoop dirt off the lid of the black chest. The sky was bright blue by the time they had cleared enough dirt from the lid. Lindsay crawled out of the pit so Hornigold could open the lid. The unearthly golden glow from within nearly blinded him. He stared at it for a long time, but comprehension of the abundant treasure before him failed to settle in.

  "And there are twelve more like this one," he heard Lindsay say.

  Hornigold crawled out of the pit and stood beside her. "Let's get back," he said. "I'll need another man to help carry this."

  They retraced their steps back to the beach and then walked the perimeter of the island. Hornigold's paranoia had flooded out of him, leaving room for a giddiness he had not felt since he was a boy. "Lindsay," he said, glancing back to make sure she was still following.

  "Benjamin."

  "I want to apologize."

  "For trying to rape me?"

  "Well, for that," he admitted sheepishly, "and for doubting you."

  "Oh yes, the doubt was truly frightful," she replied, oozing sarcasm. "The attempted rape was regrettable, but the nagging doubt is what truly kept me on edge. Far more troublesome than repeated attempts to creep upon my flank in hopes of dashing my brains in with a shovel. God only knows what you intended to do with my corpse."

  Pain spiked through his nose as he gnashed his molars. "We've dealt each other a fair amount of injury. I'd say we're even, wouldn't you?"

  "Is this still an apology?"

  "Forget I said anything."

  "Forgotten."

  It was midday by the time they saw figures dotting the beach. There were far too many of them. Hornigold stopped in his tracks. He scanned the horizon until he saw a ship much larger than his, with a mermaid dangling from the bow. Crusader! His beloved Ranger was nowhere in sight.

  "That's not your ship," Lindsay said.

  "Of course that's not my bloody ship," he snapped. "And that's not my bloody crew." He turned, glaring at her. "How did Rogers find me?"

  Her eyes darted back and forth. "I have no idea," she said.

  He jabbed an accusatory finger between her eyes. "You're lying. You have some idea, I think."

  Lindsay shrugged. She was quite good at looking mystified and helpless when she needed to. "We don't know who that is yet. Until we do, I suggest we get off the beach."

  "It's a bit late for that," came a surly voice from behind.

  Hornigold and Lindsay spun in their tracks. Two very tall, very mean looking men with orange bandanas were aiming pistols at their heads. They were shirtless, extremely tan, and barefoot. Their harsh features were uncannily similar, with protruding brows like cavemen, square jaws, and long curly black hair.

  Hornigold's head fell, the inevitability of the situation overwhelming him with despair. He somehow managed to keep his knees from buckling. He had lost everything, but he would keep what remained of his dignity, all the way to the gallows.

  He said, "Kate, meet Dick and Richard Maynard. You'll forgive me if I can't recall which is Dick and which is Richard. They're twins. And they work for Guy Dillahunt."

  The Maynard on the left grinned. "That's right, missy, and Guy Dillahunt works for the governor."

  The Maynard on the right grinned. "And the governor would like a word with the both of you."

  NATHAN

  Richard Maynard shoved Katherine Lindsay to her knees in the sand, tore off her bandana, and clutched a handful of her fiery red hair, jerking back her head so that her eyes met Nathan's. "Hello Nathan," she said, lips twitching into a pained smile. "I missed you."

  Her hair was somehow more vibrant than he had remembered, tumbling down around her face in wild, messy curls. Her face yielded less cares, in spite of the fresh slice that reddened her cheek. Her skin was darker than last time he saw her, and anyone who didn't know her would think she had a bit of islander in her. The patches of dirt scattered about her face and arms did nothing to diminish her beauty. She had come so far from the skinny, pale, frightened girl tied to Harbinger's mast, teetering on the brink of death.

  Nathan nodded to Richard. "Bind her hands." Maynard released Katherine's hair and produced a sash, turning her around and gathering her wrists. "From behind," Nathan urged. Richard nodded, securing her hands behind her back.

  "What's my reward up to?" she asked casually. The question came off as a careless muse, forcing Nathan to swallow a surge of anger. She had left him to die rather than return to London, and now she pretended as though her fate was of no concern.

  Nathan ground his teeth. "You look surprisingly healthy, Katherine. I thought I'd be returning a corpse to Woodes Rogers."

  "It's just 'Kate' now. And you're as dashing as ever. I'm sorry to see the arm hasn't grown back."

  He winced. "Neither have your manners."

  "I fear I left those somewhere in Griffith's cabin."

  "You certainly didn't bring them to Nassau," he said, allowing a touch of resentment to filter through.

  She smiled obliviously. "Still sore about that, I see."

  "Not as sore as I expected to be," Nathan replied, rubbing his neck.

  Her smile grew. "You're funnier than I remember. Escaping death works wonders on the wit."

  "And your company has scarcely improved."

  Benjamin Hornigold glared at Nathan as he was dragged by Dick Maynard toward one of the tents Ranger's crew had erected along the beach, where he would be chained along with the rest that had survived the assault on the beach. His nose was black and caked with dried blood, a purple halo spreading into his cheeks, with dark circles under his eyes. "Where is Captain Dillahunt?" he shouted. "I demand to see Captain Dillahunt!"

  Nathan ignored the man's annoying bleating.

  "That is a good question," Kate said. "Where is the captain?"

  "He's incapacitated, for the moment. I've assumed his duties until he recovers."

  Kate smiled knowingly. "How thoughtful of you."

  Nathan had a mind to strike her, though he had never hit a woman before. "Not everyone is moved by nefarious motives."

  She almost looked wounded. "You think me nefarious?"

  "You left me to die."

  Her face flushed nearly as red as her hair. "When I meet a man who doesn't blame me for every stupid decision he ever made, that will be the day I perish of shock. I warned you, Nathan. God help me, I pleaded with you not to do it, and you did it anyway. You put yourself in a precarious situation and expected me to hand myself over and bail you out of it."

  "It was the least you could do. I saved your life!"

  "I never asked you to do that either," she said. "Not a day later, you plotted to sell me so you could find your way back to . . . to what? Some strumpet you thought you were
in love with? I am not an object to be bargained in order to satiate your lust."

  He thrust a foot forward, his boot scattering sand against her legs. "My life was at stake! Is returning to London so awful?"

  "Yes!" she blurted, her voice breaking, water lining in her eyes. She had not exhausted her tears after all. He almost felt sorry for her all over again, but reminded himself who he was dealing with. He would not abandon his resolve that easily. If she'd had her way, he'd be a rotting corpse dangling from the end of a noose right now, on display as a warning to anyone with aspirations of piracy.

  "Perhaps I was misguided," he admitted with a bitter nod. "Maybe it was wrong of me to go against your will, but I was desperate. Was my life not more important than your selfish desires?"

  "A man calls it selfish. A woman calls it freedom."

  This absurdity was more than he could stand. "You call this freedom? Throwing in with pirates who would rape you at any moment?"

  "No one has raped me, though it's kind of you to concern yourself with my welfare. That's all you've ever been concerned with, isn't it? My welfare? Kind acts with no thought of reward?" She snorted loudly. "You're truly one man in a thousand, Nathan Adams."

  He could no longer match her gaze. He pulled away and faced the ocean, great and blue and stretching on and on. Annabelle was out there somewhere, he knew it. The key to finding her was finally in his grasp. He had been so sure he hated Katherine Lindsay, and now he was finding it difficult to recall the vindication for that hatred. The sun beat heavily upon the crown of his head. His fingers started for an itch running along his left arm, and then he remembered that there was nothing to itch.

  "Will you give me to Rogers?" she called. There was an anxiety in her voice that he hadn't detected earlier, and he realized she truly cared. She cared more than she wanted to let on. Of course she cares.

  "You are not the only prize on this island," he answered.

  "Then you're not Rogers' man?" She sounded hopeful.