“Thirty-two-pounders. I count twenty-eight of them.” Reynolds stood beside me on the upper deck, his knuckles blanching as he passed me the spyglass.
I raised it to my eye and swallowed a gasp. The salt-smeared telescope brought the full-rigged warship into focus. The finest ever built at Woolwich Dockyard, if I were a day old. And she prowled just forty yards to starboard, maneuvering to fire from her broadside.
“Fifty-six demi-cannons and culverins split between the middle and upper gundecks.” My stomach buckled as I continued to scan the armament. “Twelve six-pounders on the quarterdeck.”
“Four more on the forecastle.” A heavy sigh. “We’re outgunned, Captain.”
One hundred guns made to sink galleons in the war against Spain. Hell, the demi-cannons alone boasted enough firepower to blow every vessel west of England out of the water. Including mine.
As I glared through the glass, the warship hummed with organized activity. Lines of uniformed officers gestured and shouted. Seamen ran along the gangways and swarmed the shrouds. Soldiers stood at the stern near a swaying jolly boat, ready to cross at the captain’s command.
They can try.
My gunners were prepared to fire the moment that jolly hit the water with rowers. As long as I breathed, the king’s navy would not board my ship.
But the flutter of fear I’d carried from the bilge was careening into a tumult. Whatever happened in the next few minutes could end my life and the lives of my men. If we fled, the warship would open fire. If we fired first, we would be blown to hell.
Our fate rested in the hands of one man.
High above the belly of His Majesty’s Ship, the navy captain stood at the rail with his lieutenants, watching me through his spyglass as I watched him.
He was easy to identify in his dark blue frock coat and pristine white breeches and hose. Gold embroidery banded the wide cuffs and standing collar and edged the jeweled buttons that glinted down the front closure— all meant to signify wealth and status.
“Who is he and what is he doing in the West Indies?” Heart racing, I lowered the glass and glanced at Reynolds. “That ship was designed for naval tactic. Why isn’t he in the Mediterranean fighting Spain over territories?”
“The war must have ended. If that’s true, he’s here on another mission.” “Pirate hunter.” I gnashed my teeth and returned to the spyglass.
Fringed with white feathers, the captain’s three-cornered hat matched the blue of his coat. I wished the wind would rip it off his head, so I could analyze his facial features. Was he young? Inexperienced? Just another spoiled, listless aristocrat looking for adventure?
I would love to show him a good time. With a firepot of broken wine bottles, saltpeter, resin, and rotten fish hurled at his rigging. The stink alone would cause the contents of his stomach to empty all over his gold-trimmed finery.
But in my seven years of pirating, I’d never fired upon a British warship. Because I didn’t have a wish for death.
The captain shifted away, ambling to the quarterdeck rail and peering down into the waist of the warship. Hundreds of sailors stopped what they were doing on gangways and shrouds, and every head turned toward him as if awaiting his command.
Gripping the rail with all the power his rank awarded him, he spoke words I couldn’t hear. Long minutes passed. Then all at once, the seamen resumed their tasks.
“I loathe them and everything they represent.” Reynolds glared at the warship. “All those pompous guns, the uniformed soldiers, the elaborate
figurehead with a gaping maw of teeth… Like we’re supposed to tremble in fear of the king’s almighty will.”
“Don’t you?”
“Tremble?” He shrugged. “That depends on you. What’s your plan?”
With a final look at the navy captain, I handed off the glass. “I’m going to make his arsehole clench.”
“It’s about time.” Reynolds tossed me a speaking trumpet.
I jumped up onto the gunwale, balancing on the narrow ledge, and raised the funnel-like instrument to my mouth.
“What business do you have in my waters, Captain?” I shouted across the restive waves.
He strode to the stern and gripped the tafferel. His lieutenants scrambled around him, and a moment later, a trumpet appeared in his hand. He raised it to his mouth.
“I’m Lord Ashley Cutler.” His voice vaulted the distance, strong and deep. “The commodore of HMS Blitz.”
Commodore? Above captain and below admiral. What a smug little lord.
“Good for you.” I propped my elbow on a rigging cable, leaning casually as I shouted, “How many pissers did you suck to rise to that rank?”
“Strike your colors, pirate! You’re under arrest.”
“Pirate?” I laughed mockingly. “Clean your glass, you preening little cockatoo. I am but only a maiden. Pure and virtuous and very afraid of men.”
“Bennett Sharp, daughter of the convicted pirate Edric Sharp, you shall be taken into custody along with your men and the stolen galleon you call Jade.”
My blood turned to ice, and I almost dropped the trumpet.
He recognized me. How? I exchanged a look with Reynolds.
His eyes widened, fraught with disbelief. “He didn’t accidentally
stumble upon you. It’s not possible.”
“No.” I shoved my wind-blown hair from my face. “He must have been tracking me. Probably picked up our trail in Jamaica.”
“Stand down your guns and prepare to receive boarders,” Lord Cutler called. “If you resist, I will show no quarter.”
My heart rate went off like a cannon.
Heavier and faster than Jade, HMS Blitz carried twice as many guns and four times as many mariners. I would not win this fight with strength or firepower.
My mind whirled through every stratagem and artifice I’d used in previous battles, picking apart tricks that had worked for me and those that hadn’t. If I had more time, maybe I could think up a ruse to escape this without casualties.
Movement rippled through Lord Cutler’s men. The forty-yard distance made their features indiscernible, but I could make out two lieutenants walking toward the boat that swung from the stern of HMS Blitz.
Lord Cutler motioned to more soldiers, and they vanished down the gangway ladder, dispatched for some other ominous task.
Dread trickled down my spine.
“Bennett Sharp,” he called through the speaking trumpet. “Prepare to receive my lieutenants, and I must insist that you cover yourself before they arrive.”
I glanced down at Priest’s white linen shirt, the hem tangling around my knees. In my hurry to the upper deck, I’d foregone trousers, boots, weapons, my hat… The only thing I wore was the jade stone and thin shirt.
Oh, I bet that inspired some horrified blushes and gasps on His Majesty’s Ship. Proper Englishmen upheld modesty in a degree I considered ridiculously excessive. Not to mention, they never allowed a woman aboard a navy vessel.
And here I was, standing half-naked on the gunwale of a fifty-gun galleon, laughing into the trumpet with wicked delight. “Do I offend your sensibilities, my lord?”
He lowered his trumpet, holding it behind his back, refusing to answer. Even at this distance, I felt the heat of his glare. The tenacity in it. The man seemed impossible to ruffle.
“I must insist that you invite me to dinner, Commodore.” My amplified voice crashed into the wind. “A woman likes to be courted and wooed before she gets fucked. Just ask James here…” I gestured at the scrawny, gray-bearded tar behind me. “He thoroughly woos your mother with his tongue in her unmentionables before he fucks her.”
The commodore snapped out his arm, the only warning I got before the whistling hiss of incoming mortar rent the air.
My lungs crashed together as the shot punched through the tafferel of Jade’s stern, taking out the stately panels and railings in an explosion of splintered wood. I tumbled off the gunwale, the deck shaking beneath my bare feet as the boom dissipated in every direction.
I waved the billowing smoke from my face and glared at the jagged, smoldering hole in my ship. Thank God, Priest was held far beneath the broken timbers. No chance of injuries.
Only surface damage.
It was a slap in the face. He could’ve demolished the rigging, toppled the mizzenmast, and blasted away anything that would’ve prevented us from sailing. The fact that he didn’t showed what little confidence he had in our ability to flee.
All eyes fixed on me. Under the bulwarks with daggers, in the shrouds with muskets, behind the long-range eighteen-pounders with lit matches— every man soundlessly asked me the same question.
What now, Captain?
As the pungent gray smog cleared, tension swelled, rolling through the ship. My blood buzzed. My hands flexed and shook.
I knew what I had to do.
Reynolds wouldn’t like it. Priest would positively combust in a murderous rage. But it was our only option. And I needed Jade in one piece for it to work.
Dragging in a breath, I aimed the trumpet in the direction of my gundeck. “Hold your fire!”
Reynolds flashed me a questioning look. “Shall I prepare to repel boarders?”
“No.” I filled my lungs and shouted, “Raise the white!”
A stunned inhale rippled through the ship and thinned the air. Then footsteps erupted into action.
I spun toward the foremast, my heart cracking into pieces as Jade
hoisted a white flag for the first time under my command.
“What the devil are you doing?” Reynolds snarled at my ear. “If we surrender, they’ll hang us.”
“Stop talking.” I grabbed the spyglass and trained it on Lord Cutler, positioning my hands to hide the movement of my lips. “He’s watching.”
Reynolds stiffened on my stern. Jobah appeared at my fore, flanking me. Brilliant. I needed them both to hear this.
“In a few minutes, I’m going to jump up on this gunwale. When I do…” I glanced at Reynolds. “You will push me overboard. Don’t argue.”
He worked his jaw, eyebrows pinning together, and hands opening and closing at his sides.
“Dead or alive,” I said, “I’m worth more to Lord Cutler than all of Jade
and her crew.”
My husband’s head was as valuable as mine, but our marriage wasn’t known. Lord Cutler had no reason to connect me to Priest and therefore, no reason to search my ship for him.
The only way to save my crew was to prevent the Royal Navy from boarding. I needed to keep Priest’s presence a secret and remove myself from this vessel.
“After you push me over, take command of Jade,” I said to Reynolds. “Set a course to Harbour Island and wait for me there. Your job is to hide and protect my ship and her crew. Swear to God, if you disobey me, I will keelhaul you until naught a flap of flesh hangs from your bones.”
His eyes hardened, unblinking, and his lips pressed into a line. Whatever he wanted to say bobbed in his throat, but he knew better than to question.
I turned my attention to Jobah. “The instant I hit the water, head up two points and begin your run. Full and by.”
“Captain…”
“Run until Jade is out of range of their guns and too far gone to catch up. If they believe you have no interest in rescuing me, they’ll let you go and focus on pulling me from the water. I’m the one they want.”
Capturing Edric Sharp’s daughter, one of the most wanted pirates in the world, was a monumental boon for a pirate hunter’s career. The noose around my bent neck would likely raise Lord Ashley Cutler to the coveted flag rank of admiral.
My shoulders hunched, reflexively protecting my vulnerable throat.
I’m not giving up. Not even close.
Across the water, the jolly boat began to lower toward the water. It was almost time.
Reynolds rubbed a hand over his mouth, concealing his words. “Once they have you, you won’t be able to escape.”
“That’s why you’re going to release your brother from the bilge.”
His features sharpened and pinched through a squall of resisting emotions before settling into comprehension. He couldn’t argue the glaring truth.
As long as Priest lived, he would hunt me with the ferocity of my greatest enemy.
Once Jade made her escape to safer waters, Reynolds would help Priest lay siege to another ship—a merchantier, a faster, stealthier sloop, anything he could use to pursue me—knowing I didn’t want Jade anywhere near HMS Blitz.
As Reynolds came to this conclusion, reluctant acceptance softened his mouth, and he released a heavy breath.
“Notify the crew,” I said without moving the telescope from my face.
He squeezed my hip, the gesture hidden beneath the gunwale. Then he ambled across the ship, delivering quiet, resolute orders to the men.
Forty yards to starboard, Lord Cutler watched every move through his glass. Perhaps he would reflect on this moment later and decide that this was the point when Reynolds rallied my crew into mutiny behind my back.
“Jobah.” I stared straight ahead, mirroring his pose. “If this doesn’t work…” If I die…
“I’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”
Him. The husband I loathed to love. The libertine who would risk his life to find me.
“Man the helm,” I replied in my captain’s voice. “I already miss you, Captain.”
“Likewise.” My heart pinched as I glanced at him sidelong, letting him see the gratitude in my eyes. “Godspeed, my friend.”
Without a show of emotion, he retreated, leaving me alone with my rioting nerves.
Jumping into the sea from the rail of a galleon was a risk in and of itself. I could die on impact or lose consciousness and drown before the enemy boat reached me. Nevertheless, I had faith in my ability to swim.
If I kept my head above the swells long enough, Lord Cutler’s soldiers would pull me out.
If I survived the jump, I would become a captive aboard His Majesty’s Ship. Whether I could endure that hell and evade the hempen halter at the end depended on my will to live and the indomitable, possessive fury of Priest Farrell.
Without turning around, I sensed Jobah at the helm, awaiting my signal.
Behind me, seamen carried on as if nothing were amiss.
For their mutiny to appear authentic, I needed the participation of the entire ship. So I waited a few more minutes, giving Reynolds enough time to quietly pass along orders, preparing the men for the subterfuge.
Then I exchanged the spyglass for the speaking trumpet and jumped up onto the gunwale.
Near the stern of HMS Blitz, rowers and lieutenants began to descend the ladder to the jolly boat.
“Advance no further, impotent Puritans!” I yelled at them across the waves. “Or your livers will bleed on the end of my cutlass!”
The men filed into the jolly, ignoring my hollow threats. I continued shouting at them, solidifying the ruse that my only defense was to attack them with words.
I was so lost in my dire declarations to cause harm that I didn’t sense Reynolds behind me until his arm chopped the backs of my knees.
Loss of balance sent me tumbling. The trumpet flew backward. My body toppled forward, and Reynolds shoved my legs, sealing my fate.
I fell.
It was a long, horrifying drop. Long enough for a thousand doubts to flood in and swallow me in panic.
At the last moment, I gathered my senses, arrowed my body, feet first, and pressed my arms to my sides. When I hit the surface of the water, it felt like I collided with hard earth. My teeth sliced my tongue. Air ripped from my lungs, and every bone jarred with the impact.
Then I sank. And sank. As I plunged deeper into the sea, my thoughts obsessed over what was transpiring above the surface.
Jobah would be executing my orders to flee. The crew would be hauling lines, turning canvas, and hooting in mutinous cheer, leading Lord Cutler to believe they had just sacrificed their wanted captain to save their own lives.
If Lord Cutler opened fire to stop their escape, I wouldn’t just die down here. He would lose my carcass amid the wreckage and debris.
Right now I suspected he was weighing the value of my drowning body against that of my captured crew. And he would settle on the same conclusion I had.
My head was worth more, whether or not it was attached to the rest of me. He wouldn’t chase Jade at the risk of losing his prize to the sea.
Each second felt like an eternity as I plunged through the blue water, my lungs burning, legs kicking desperately, heart racing, and vision fading. I knew falling overboard was dangerous, but I wasn’t ready for the sudden, terrifying wave of hysteria.
My throat convulsed, struggling against the urge to gulp. Invisible currents pummeled me like relentless fists, tossing me about and distorting my sense of direction. I strained to find the surface, but sunlight was obscured by encroaching black spots.
I had hoped to stay conscious, but it seemed inevitable as my strength waned, replaced by violent, involuntary muscle spasms. The need to breathe was so intense that I didn’t think I could endure another moment without gasping.
The last thing I saw was the mighty hull of the Jade above me. It churned the water as it turned, accelerating with sails that must have been full and tightly trimmed. With the warship still moored, Jade would soon be out of firing range.
I clapped a hand over my nose and mouth, stifling the agonizing ache to gulp as her wake shoved a tonnage of bone-breaking seawater over my head.
Undercurrents grabbed my useless legs and pulled me down, down, down into the yawning darkness.
