by Hays, Lara
Just a few nights ago in the sanctuary of his room, Nicholas had told me the crew was ready for a mutiny. The timing was perfect. This must have been what Nicholas had been arranging while I was locked in the brig. He knew there was a chance that I would be found guilty and that the punishment would be as severe as death. The only way to derail the outcome of the trial would be with an action as bold as mutiny. I shuddered to think of these extreme circumstances and the risks that this stranger took for me.
The pirate ways were unfamiliar to me, but I knew what a mutiny meant. I knew it could grow ugly. What if this coup d’état failed? What would Black do to Nicholas? I did not really need to ask that question. I knew.
Captain Black stared down the crowd, assessing the spread of this rebellion. Though there were far more pirates watching Nicholas than standing behind him, none of them came to the captain’s defense.
Still pointing his sword at the general crowd, as if threatening every last man on the ship, he growled, “Let’s do this.”
A very tall, slender man with a greasy black ponytail that hung past his waist carried a leather folder filled with worn parchment. Opening the folder and referencing the papers, he said, “According to the articles signed by every member of the crew, when it comes to booty, the cap’n gets first claim on unique items, the quartermaster gets second claim, followed by the bos’n and gunner. The rest be divided among the crew. Money be split even amongst the crew, with the cap’n and quartermaster each gettin’ an extra share. Other appointed mates receive half an extra share.”
“Do any of ye dispute these articles?” Nicholas asked the crew.
No one argued.
“Go on.”
The man with the black ponytail directly addressed the captain now. “Two months back when we raided the port at Eleuthera, ye took for yer own that rapier—” he gestured to the sword the captain held “—and the silver tea set.”
“What of it?” growled the captain.
“Them’re two unique items.”
“Aye,” Nicholas chimed in, “And I’d been eyeing that tea set,” he said with a boyish grin.
“An’ we all know that when it comes to countin’ coins,” the black-haired man continued, “ye have Squeamy Pete do all the dividin’ in the privacy of yer own cabin with none else to look on. Dividing plunder is the responsibility of the quartermaster.”
Another pirate—one who wasn’t standing with Nicholas’s small group—called out, “Aye! An’ we all notice that Squeamy Pete seems to be havin’ more money than the rest o’ us.”
“Yer payin’ ’im off for cheatin’!” another voice from the crowd bellowed.
“Ye didn’t even show yer scabrous face during our last chase just a fortnight ago,” someone else pointed out.
The captain challenged this accusation, “Ye know I cannot be out in the sun fer lengths of time.”
“A cap’n that can’t fight with his men ought not to be cap’n!” an angry sailor hurled at him.
“The fearsome nature of my looks has won more battles than their delicacies have cost!” Captain Black shot back, his eyes glinting like bloody pools.
“And yer fearsome nature has beaten many o’ us lowly dogs!” Another voice, another pirate. The mutiny was swelling.
“And what about her?” Nicholas spat, pointing at me. He stalked across the deck and down the ladder to face the captain directly at the ship’s waist. His insurgents followed him. “You claimed her as your unique prize, and now you move to hang her? ’Tis only because you’re afraid she will do to you what she did to Wrack when you force your will. If it be anyone else, they’d meet with the cat’s nine tails, not the gallows.”
This was the heart of the matter—my safety—disguised in this rebellion. Not gold. Not plunder. I was the reason that Nicholas did this. This man hardly knew me, yet he risked his life to preserve mine. My heart thudded.
“What about the rum?” a grey and weathered man spoke out. “We be forced to drink rum watered down past the point of recognition while ye take all the good drink fer yerself!”
A mob was forming. Onlooking pirates had mingled with the mutinous few behind Nicholas so there was no longer a division between groups. They moved on the captain, surrounding him. More and more complaints echoed from the raging crowd until I could no longer distinguish individual voices or their grievances.
The beating of my heart escalated with the rowdiness of the mob. The crowd would overthrow the mutant captain and his authority, reversing his verdict and negating the sentence for my hanging. I still didn’t know if they would try me again or if I could ever escape the clutches of this damned ship, but at least I would live to see the sunset. That was enough for now.
A sudden silence fell across the crowd. The sound of the sail flapping in the wind replaced the angry shouts. Confused, I craned my neck to see through the crowd, to understand the sudden quiet. The thicket of men surrounding the captain shrank back, leaving a wide circle where they had just been grouped so tightly. The captain stood just as he had before, sneering at his challengers.
Peering through the crowd, I finally noticed movement on the ground at the captain’s feet. My hand flew to cover my mouth and my eyes widened in horror. Lying before the captain was the man with the long ponytail, writhing on the ground, pink bubbles of blood frothing from his mouth. He clenched his gut tightly, twisting upon the deck, his hands glossy with blood. The captain stared down at him wearing an expression of satisfaction. His long rapier dripped with the sailor’s blood.
In stillness, everyone watched the grisly scene. Strange gurgles and hiccups came from the dying pirate as he continued to gyrate and twitch. His frenzied eyes searched the crowd, looking for aid or at least a bit of comfort in his last moments. Not one person moved. Not one word was said. I could not look away from the nightmare before me. My eyes refused to blink. Then it was over. The gurgling ceased and the man lay still, his eyes wide open. A pulse of blood coming from his abdomen was the only movement now.
Quietly, gruffly, Nicholas said, “I move to strip Black from the office of captain of the Banshee.”
“I second the motion.” It was Skidmore.
With an eerie reverence, each pirate raised a hand. When all had voted unanimously against him, the former captain threw his sword to the ground.
Black walked up directly up to Nicholas and stared him down with flashing eyes. “You just marked yourself, lad. You and your witch.”
With his last threat lingering in the air, the dethroned captain stalked away into the bowels of the ship.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Still motionless, I watched the crowds dissipate. Nicholas ordered several men to tend to the body. I watched in gross fascination as they straightened the corpse and placed gold coins atop its now closed eyelids. Two other sailors emerged from the forecastle and approached the body with a sheet of cloth—the dead man’s hammock—and wrapped it around the body. A cannonball was included at his feet. Nicholas sewed the canvas shut, the final stitch going through the nose of the body. The congregation grew and most of the pirates were present to bow their heads and pray for the dead man’s soul.
Nicholas opened a gate in the railing, and the pirate named Gibbons dragged the cocooned body across the deck and pushed it off the edge. I flinched at the imminent splash and closed my eyes against the finality of it all. Other men pulled up buckets of seawater and mopped the red trail smeared across the ship’s waist.
One by one, the men disappeared. A silent ghost left behind.
A soft touch at my elbow pulled me from my trance.
Nicholas.
He pulled me into his arms and I melted against his chest, not a word passing between us. His embrace was fierce. The emotion of the day caught up to me, and I quivered in Nicholas’s arms, crying quietly. Warm hands stroked my hair, rubbed my back. I nuzzled as deeply as I could into the soft cotton shirt that smelled deliciously of ocean air. Then Nicholas grasped my shoulders and pulled me back. His
grey eyes stared intently into mine. Finding what he had been searching for in my eyes, he pulled me close to his chest and wrapped his arms around me once more.
Moments passed. My shaking slowly subsided. Nicholas looked at me again and softly brushed away the tears on my cheeks with his thumb. Taking my hand, Nicholas led me up the steps of the forecastle deck to the bow of the ship where we leaned across the railing. I avoided his gaze, afraid of what he would see in my eyes. I had doubted him. And he had risked everything. His life. The lives of those who trusted him. The image of the dying sailor flashed across my mind. I kept my eyes fixed ahead. I was afraid of him seeing my shame, knowing how undeserving I was.
We stood side by side looking across the hazy horizon in silence. His relief was palpable. He had been as scared as I. But he’d pulled off a mutiny and kept me alive.
Together, we looked out at the never-ending waves of blue. The sun was sinking over the horizon, casting a golden hue across the world. Alabaster clouds with a magenta fringe spotted the pale sky. The evening was beautiful. Calm.
The events of the day swirled together in a jumble. It seemed like a dream. It would be less surprising for me to wake up down in the brig or even in my bed back in London than to actually acknowledge the day’s events.
An ocean breeze tossed my hair about my shoulders and stray strands tickled my face. Gooseflesh prickled my skin. I absently hugged myself, rubbing my hands along my arms. Nicholas put his arm around me and pulled me into his side, warming my arms with his hands. His contrasting warmth made me shiver more.
“Your hair is red in this light,” he said softly, tucking a rebellious lock behind my ear.
I remained silent. Words would not come. I did not know how to talk about what had happened, or if I should even attempt to do so. Yet how could I converse about more trivial matters after such huge events?
My eyes lingered on the setting sun. Nicholas divided his attention between looking at me and at the ocean. There was no awkwardness in our silence. Just a restful stillness, a recess from the world.
The sun dipped behind the ocean and the magic of the moment disappeared with it.
“Are you hungry?” Nicholas asked me.
I nodded, still unable to speak.
He led me down to the galley where a dozen men were lounging about. It was quite crowded. A hush fell over the men as soon as we entered. An old pirate as weathered as a torn sail hovered over the metal stove.
“Bratman,” Nicholas addressed him, “two dishes.”
“Comin’ up,” Bratman said without turning away from his work. He spooned porridge made from boiled beans into two tin bowls and handed them to Nicholas. It was then that he saw me in the galley, standing timidly behind Nicholas. His expression instantly changed from boredom to suspicion.
“Bratman, meet Miss Monroe,” Nicholas said to the man, measuring the cook’s reaction.
I curtsied. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bratman.”
The old man turned back to his work on the stove without a hint of acknowledgement.
Nicholas turned and scanned the room. The men met his eyes steadily, every one unwelcoming. I think Nicholas had intended to eat in the galley, to introduce me to the men and familiarize us with each other. There was a tangible tension in the air, and it was obvious that such an arrangement would be a mistake. After pouring two cups of watered-down rum, Nicholas nodded towards the staircase, and I happily escaped the galley.
We went back to the forecastle deck and made ourselves comfortable sitting side by side propped against the bulwarks.
“You were remarkable today,” Nicholas started.
“Oh, no I wasn’t. I was…I don’t know…cornered.”
Nicholas touched the fading bruise on my jaw. “You’re quite a force when you’re cornered.”
“Maybe.”
I liked the porridge. Its soft texture and mild taste was ambrosia after the hardtack I had been subsisting on in the brig. I finished my dinner much too quickly.
Shyly, I looked up at Nicholas. He had hardly touched his food. He was paying far more attention to me. I cleared my throat. “I don’t even know what to say. How to thank you…”
Twilight’s orange glow deepened into a purple canvas dotted with the evening’s first stars. A perfectly-shaped crescent moon shimmered gently over the sea. Sitting just above the horizon, I felt I could reach out and touch it.
“There is no thanks needed, luv, believe me. That you are alive and safe is all I want.”
I blushed. I liked his professions more than I should.
He ate his porridge and took a swallow of rum. Then he took my hand in his.
“How are you?” he asked fervently.
I sighed heavily. “I wish I knew. I still can’t believe everything that happened today. I can’t stop shaking.”
He stared at the hand he held for a long moment, breathing unevenly.
I looked at him in the pale light of dusk. Still looking at our interlocked hands, an expression of pain pulled at the corners of Nicholas’s mouth. I could sense his hesitation. It concerned me.
Finally, he met my eyes. “Are you frightened by me?”
Though his question caught me off guard, it was the vulnerability in his voice that surprised me.
“No,” I answered honestly. “Why would I be?”
“You saw me today. You saw me for what I really am—a pirate.”
“Remember, piracy is not who you are, it’s just what you do,” I countered teasingly.
“Tessa,” he pleaded, “I need to know. Are you frightened by me?”
I took my time collecting my thoughts. I played through the events of the day, sorting through the feelings that overcame me. “You’re right. I saw you today—for what you really are. You are so strong, so in control, and completely brilliant. Once you started the mutiny, there was no question in my mind that everything would work out.”
“Well, that makes one of us.”
“Nicholas…” I began, but trailed off, too timid to say what was on my mind. He waited for a moment, then gave me a prodding look. My heart pounded. I was embarrassed to ask, but his look comforted me. He had exposed himself entirely a moment before.
“Why are you so good to me?” I whispered.
He chuckled quietly and squeezed my hand. “The moment I saw you, I just…just wanted to take care of you. It was overwhelming. This beautiful creature, all alone with no one. I knew you would need someone…and I wanted it to be me. I want it to be me,” he corrected himself. “I didn’t even know you, but that didn’t matter.”
“Thank you,” I said softly. It was all I knew to say, but I meant it wholeheartedly.
“I have never met anyone like you. And I don’t mean a noble woman. I cannot explain it. After we fished you out of that jollyboat, I was so thrilled when we found your heartbeat. Really, we thought you were dead. I don’t know why it mattered so much to me, but it did. And even then I found myself protecting you from the others. I was taken by your beauty. And you were so fragile. I figured I pitied you. That’s how I explained my draw to you. But even then, I knew it was more than pity, even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself.” A tender smile creased his face, lighting up his eyes.
I sat in hopeful anxiety. “If it wasn’t pity, what was it?”
Nicholas traced circles on the back of my hand with his fingers. Several times he looked as though he wanted to say something, but nothing ever came out. Finally, he said, “You look right pretty today. I like the dress.”
“It’s a lovely color,” I flatly agreed. “Answer my question.”
Nicholas shrugged “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Tessa, I don’t know what to do with you,” he said somberly, a distant look on his face.
His tone surprised me. Worried me. “What do you mean?”
“You certainly have a way of finding trouble. It won’t be long before something like this happens again.” Nicholas sighed, his gaze unf
ocused in the distance. “As happy as I am that I have you here by my side now, I have to let you go. I have to get you off this ship.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The intimacy of the moment evaporated like sea mist in a hot sun. A heavy feeling found its way into the quiet night as Nicholas’s comment sunk in.
He did not want me. Well, maybe he did. But he couldn’t take care of me—or wouldn’t. A small part of me had started to imagine a dream with only Nicholas, a world where he would always be with me.
I tried to hide my hurt as I said, “I have thought of it, too, and I think returning to London would be the best course of action.”
“London?” he asked weakly. I couldn’t read his face.
I shrugged. “It is the only place I know anyone at all. Perhaps an old family friend would take me in.”
“London.” His voice was practical. “Makes sense.” After a long pause he continued, “You will need to get to Barbados or St. Kitts. You’ll find regular sailings to London from one of those ports.” He continued to trace delicate patterns my hand.
I felt hollow. My time with Nicholas had taken an unwanted turn. I wished to get lost in his solace. I wanted his sureness to comfort me and blot out the horrors of the day. I longed for his closeness, his warmth. But we were cold now, leagues apart though our fingers still mingled.
I hated thinking of what would come next. Returning to London was a dreadful notion, but it was the only choice I had. I did not want to think about it at all. I wanted to forget all that had happened today and what would happen tomorrow.
But Nicholas would not let me forget. He seemed all too eager to plan my departure. Hadn’t he just said he wanted to be the one to take care of me? Obviously, he only intended to care for me until he could pass the responsibility to someone else.
What had I been thinking? We were from separate worlds. He had his life at sea and seemed so content. I had nothing, not anywhere. Not even here. A frustrated ball of anger pitted in my stomach.
