I balanced my boots on the jib-boom, a spyglass to my eye, and a hand clenched around the tack for support. The smoke of cannon fire lingered, the raw scent of it clinging to the back of my throat. With it came the bitter taste of disappointment.
The cargo ship had surrendered upon the first shot we lobbed across her bow. Had they been anything other than slave traders, I might have let them live.
Evidence of their evil lay in the hull, which had been divided into holds with little headroom and endless chains swaying from beams and snaking across the decks. All meant to restrain hundreds of captives. And all of it empty.
The slave ship had already delivered her cargo to St. Christopher island. I lowered the glass and found Jobah standing beside Reynolds near the helm. Together, they watched the sea swallow what was left of the burning
ship off the larboard beam.
We’d killed every man on board, save two. Two badly beaten, malnourished slaves.
They were now on my ship, under Ipswich’s care. It wasn’t the first time my surgeon had nursed outsiders back to life. He grumbled and griped, claiming he didn’t have to obey a woman’s orders. But the cantankerous old fool secretly enjoyed it. He wouldn’t have stayed with me all these years otherwise.
When the last spar of the slave ship sank beneath the tide with a bubbling burp, I pulled in a deep breath and shouted, “Weigh anchor! All
hands prepare to make sail!”
I jumped down to the forecastle and crossed to the rail that overlooked the expanse of Jade’s stunning upper deck. With her topsails clewed up from battle and her stalwart stem poised to smash through wind and water, I tilted my head back and let the splendor roll through me.
Sunshine heated my face. The breeze whipped my hair, testing the grip of my hat. Sea spray misted my clothes, and I soaked it all in.
My father had once stood in this very spot, commanding a different crew and earning their loyalty, battle after battle. How fortunate was I to follow in his footsteps.
I would never forget that. Never take it for granted.
Seamen clamored fore and aft, bare feet pounding across the deck. The windlass groaned, and the kelp-slimed anchor cable snapped taut, swinging out of the sea.
“Get those jibs up.” I descended to the main deck. “When we clear the wreckage, raise the mainsail.”
Shouts rang out in acknowledgment, followed by the cheerful song of working men. Their chanting tune narrated each maritime task, setting the rhythm as they hauled lines and swung yards.
“Destination?” Reynolds stopped me at the companionway, his gold earrings glinting in the sunlight.
I lifted my face, estimating the angle of the wind. “Put her on a beam reach. Due east.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
No, he wanted to know the long-term course. While we cruised the West Indies, plundering Spanish treasure ships and terrorizing the British navy, where were we ultimately headed? What did we want at the end of this? That was always the question, wasn’t it?
The answer resided in my father’s encrypted compass. I needed to find it, solve the puzzle, and follow the map.
“Locate the compass,” I said. “I’ll deal with Priest. Then we’ll go from there.”
But first, I needed to see how our new passengers were faring in the hands of surly old Ipswich.
Reynolds strode away, relaying my orders to the crew. A moment later, canvas rose, and the deck slanted as Jade heeled to leeward, luffing into the teeth of the wind.
I descended to the lower level and made my way to the infirmary.
Ipswich had his back to the door when I slipped in, his hunched sexagenarian frame bent over an occupied bed. I moved to the other bunk and rested my hand on the limp arm of a man who glared at me with glassy brown eyes. He jerked away from my touch and winced in pain.
Bones protruded beneath layers of old bruises and fresh cuts. Blood matted black hair, his face too young to grow a beard. Too young to be in a foreign place without family. My chest squeezed.
I had an idea of what he’d suffered, but I didn’t pretend to understand what he was feeling. Fear? Hatred? Hopelessness? Rage? Whatever it was that hardened his eyes, I couldn’t take it away. Couldn’t make it better.
“Get out!” A gnarled hand whacked my shoulder. “Always in my way, nosing around and— Don’t touch that!” Ipswich smacked me again, knocking my hand from the table of surgeon’s tools.
Undaunted, I pushed around him to check on the other man, whose skin glistened beneath the cold sweat of a fever. “I want an update on your patients.”
“Once you remove your puny carcass from my infirmary, I’ll have them convalescing successfully.”
“Shear off, you miserable shabbaroon, or I’ll be retaliating successfully.” I anchored my hands on my hips and stared at him with a threatening set to my chin. “Let’s hope you’re conducting yourself in a more…gracious way with these men. If I learn otherwise, you shall receive forty stripes lacking one across the bare back. Do I make myself clear?”
“You wouldn’t.” He grunted through a nest of wiry silver hair.
Meeting my eyes, he saw the unflinching promise in them. I didn’t care how old he was, if he didn’t improve his attitude, he would be punished.
“Yes, Captain.” He bowed his bald head. “Will there be anything else?” “No, Doctor. I believe that will be all.”
I gave the bed-ridden men a parting glance and stepped into the passageway, closing the door behind me. A few yards away, Jobah stood with a shoulder leaning against the wall, his hands clasped behind his back, and the whites of his eyes glowing in the dark.
“Doctor is not…” He rolled his lips together. “Pleasant.” “He’s the worst. I should run a sword through him.” “But he helps many people.”
“He follows orders.” I approached him and mirrored his pose, staring up at him. “I’m sorry we were too late to save the ones who weren’t on that ship.” Too late, too often, I thought, sick at heart.
“We saved two.” He smiled softly, his gaze drifting to the door behind
me.
It wasn’t enough. Then again, I never claimed to be a savior or a hero of
any sort.
When a slave ship crossed my path, I sank it. But I wouldn’t risk Jade or her crew in an attack against an entire island like St. Christopher. Jobah knew my purpose when he joined me, and he never tried to persuade me to change course.
I squeezed his strong shoulder, stretching my arm way up to reach it. His quiet, towering presence intimidated me sometimes. I respected that. It meant he intimidated our enemies, too.
“What about the other one in irons?” He crossed his arms. “What other one?” I dropped my hand.
“Your mate in the bilge.” He winged up a brow. “When will you save
him?”
My breath stilled.
Jobah had been with me throughout my courtship, marriage, and fallout with the king of libertines. Along the way, he and Priest had formed a staunch friendship.
“He doesn’t need saving.” My tone turned icy. “If you intend to free him—”
“I will not interfere. But I’ll tell you this.” He leaned in. “Hear him.
Listen.”
“I do, Jobah. He speaks in lies and manipulations.” “Listen to what he’s not saying.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you know? Did he tell you—?”
“I visited him this morning.” He held up his hands. “But if I knew his secrets, you would, too. You have my loyalty, Captain.”
I nodded, trusting him implicitly.
“Whatever you have planned for him, be gentle.” Jobah straightened, his expression somber. “Hurting you has already caused him the greatest pain.”
