by Meg Caddy
Barnet wanted that pleasure for himself.
He had Rackham brought to his cabin. The man was on his knees, dishevelled and furious. He had been spitting curses at the crew since they dragged him out of Havana but now he was silent, his jaw clenched and his eyes burning as he stared at Barnet.
Barnet allowed himself a small smile. He hunted pirates in accordance with God’s will, and in retribution for the wrongs he had once suffered at a pirate’s hands, but there was no harm in enjoying the work. Victory at the end of a long pursuit was a sweet matter indeed. He wondered briefly whether St George had felt this when he struck down the dragon.
‘Captain Rackham.’ He had his gun ready and his sword at his hip. Rackham was bound but Barnet knew better than to underestimate a pirate. They were snakes, at their most dangerous when they were desperate. ‘It is a merry chase you have led us across the seas. I want to thank you for the entertainment.’
‘We killed your men and blasted the shit out of your ship,’ the pirate snarled.
‘Perils of the mission,’ Barnet nodded. ‘Still, those men gave their lives in a noble pursuit, and have been accorded the proper honours.’
‘Noble?’ Rackham’s face twisted. ‘One of your men assaulted my woman in Havana.’ There was a tight line in his voice. ‘He may have killed her.’
Barnet’s lips tightened. His men were fools not to have known Anne Bonny when they saw her. ‘She was a pirate. Die on the street or at the end of a rope, she deserved it.’
‘Bastard.’
Barnet flipped his gun and cracked the butt against Rackham’s face. The man reeled, lost his balance and crumpled on the deck as a cut opened above his brow. He lay there a moment, breathing hard. Barnet reached down and pulled him upright.
‘Guard your tongue, pirate,’ he said. Rackham’s breath shuddered. Barnet released his shoulder. ‘You will no doubt be questioned when we reach Nassau, but let us make the most of the time we have on this voyage. The governor wishes to deal with your crimes, but once you are arrested and executed I still have a job to do. Pirates to pursue. So: what information have you on your brethren?’
The pirate spat at him. ‘You’ll have nothing from me, Barnet,’ he snarled.
Barnet fished a kerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, holding at bay the fury that whipped through him. That was what the pirate wanted, after all: for Barnet to stoop to his level.
‘We have a week of sailing, John Rackham,’ he said, rolling the sleeves of his shirt. ‘A week is a long time. By the end of it, you may be a little more willing to comply.’ He stepped around the pirate and closed the door to the cabin. Rackham craned to look over his shoulder. Barnet let the gun swing again, this time cracking against his shoulder. Rackham hissed but did not cry out. Barnet leaned over and grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair.
‘Will you speak willingly?’ he asked.
‘A short life and a merry one,’ the pirate snarled. The words were nonsensical to Barnet, but the intent was clear.
Barnet smiled again. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Let us begin.’
Rackham was resilient. Barnet beat him bloody that first night and still he gave nothing away. Barnet stood at the bow of the ship, eyeing the brooding sky. On reflection, he had perhaps been too enthusiastic about the interrogation. The pirate had been unable to give coherent answers by the end of it, and Barnet was forced to stop before any permanent damage was done. The governor would be displeased if he was unable to gain a proper confession. For now, Rackham had been shoved back into the brig with the rest of the captured crew. Barnet could hear them from where he stood on the deck. Sometimes they were quiet, mutters buzzing between them. Every so often, though, they broke into howls and shouts, threatening and cursing. They were no better than animals. Barnet had given the order for them to be starved for the first few days. Hopefully it would take the edge off their rebellion.
A stiff wind blew off the ocean, bringing with it the first sweep of rain. The water came on quickly, hot and heavy, and within moments it was difficult to see. Barnet closed his hands on the rail. The sails had been taken in to prevent the wind from putting strain on the mast and the hatches were battened down to prevent water from filling the lower decks. The cabin boy, Oliver, was hard at work on the bilge pump, and the other men had secured themselves to the ship with jacklines as the hard wind and waves threatened to sweep them overboard.
The crew secured themselves with jacklines and worked against the howl of the wind. They were drenched with sea-spray; the waves had been lapping at the deck for almost an hour. Jonathan was nineteen, a thin-chested boy with wiry strength. He felt that strength as he pulled ropes and climbed through the rigging. He was young enough to be reckless with the lads in port and shy of the girls who sometimes travelled on their ship. The captain’s daughter, Constance, had soft brown hair. Once she dropped a kerchief and Jonathan returned it to her. The men later told him he should have kept it in his pocket, that she had intended it for him.
He taught her how to navigate by the stars.
He thought of her now as he stood on a ratline and the wind shuddered the rigging. He leaned out. He loved the ocean in all its moods but especially now, when she was brooding and bitter, snarling at those men who wished to tame her. On the starboard side, he could just make out the faint wings of another ship.
The memory hit Barnet hard in the middle of his stomach, and was gone with the next breath of wind. He stood still for a moment, gasping for air, his eyes on some remembered horizon.
Constance.
For a dizzying instant he thought he caught the scent of her perfume. Living on the ship with her father, she had worn it always. He remembered the way his heart beat double, triple, whenever it coloured the breeze. Even now the smell of lavender…
‘Captain?’
The bosun, Hutchinson, wiped water out of his eyes and peered through the rain at him.
‘Sir, the hatches are battened down, save for the main companionway. The sails are in. But we’re looking at a mighty bad storm. Everyone’s secure.’
‘Very well.’ Barnet drew himself upright. He was more resilient than this. He had avoided thoughts of Constance for many years. They were a distraction that brought only pain. ‘Strike the royal and t’gallant yards, and the t’gallant masts. Keep Godfrey and Lane on lookout.’ He wanted most of the sails reefed so the wind did not force them too hard.
The rain was coming down so hard and thick that the horizon had disappeared. The swell lifted the Albion slowly and then crashed her down again. The decks tilted. Barnet checked his jackline again to ensure he was steady. He had made the decision to run ahead of the storm but he was starting to doubt his judgment. Waves were starting to break over the stern. The air was thick with sea-spray. It whipped across the deck, hard and cold. There were two men on the helm, trying to keep the ship steady, but Barnet knew there was little chance of staying on course. And these waters were filled with small islands and reefs. In good weather any man with a keen eye could avoid such dangers but they were sailing blind.
A wave crashed over their stern, hitting hard on the starboard side. The ship groaned and tilted. Thunder rolled through the sky, so loud it shook the rigging. Moments later lightning cut the sky, weaving cracks in the darkness. The light echoed off the water and disappeared. The winds picked up. The Albion leaned hard to the portside, then righted and slipped down the side of another wave. Barnet whipped around at a shout from one of the helmsmen. The wheel had jumped out of their hands and was spinning madly. Their feet dragged on the deck as they tried to brace and bring it back under control.
Another blow to the stern. Barnet dashed the rain from his eyes. No way to tell whether they were on course now and there was no point trying to hold to it.
Barnet had to roar to be heard over the tempest. ‘Sail to point!’
The helmsmen gave up trying to hold course and instead worked to keep the ship steady and upright, to prevent her from spinning like a whirligig.
There was little they could do. The timbers heaved and screamed. Lines snapped and lashed across the deck. Barnet grabbed at one of the shrouds by the mast. The vessel lurched again. A man went flying across the slick boards of the fo’c’sle; his body made a sickening crack as it hit the rail. He would have gone over but the jackline pulled taut. He dangled like a fish on the line until two men hauled him back.
‘Captain!’ One of the men flung open the hatch to the companionway. Water gushed down the steps.
‘What are you doing?’ snarled Barnet. ‘Close the hatch!’
‘There’s no one on the pump!’ the man screamed above the roar of the wind.
Barnet ran to the companionway, grappling with the knot about his waist for a moment before he was loose from his jackline. ‘Bosun, close the hatch behind us.’ He flung himself down the companionway. He was going to beat the cabin boy into the next month. ‘Oliver!’
The boy was not waiting at the top of the pump. Perhaps something had stuck down in the bilge and he had gone to free the mechanism.
The lower decks were awash. Rats leapt across lines and beams, furred bodies flowing across the lower decks like rivulets of water. The stench of vomit was overwhelming. Barnet went down another level to the lowest deck. He could hear the pirates in the bilge, shouting and groaning. Retching. He knelt at the entrance to the bilge and called down.
‘Oliver! Get up here, you lazy little swine!’
The storm was deafening. Barnet strained to hear. There was no reply from the bilge.
‘Oliver!’
He squinted into the darkness of the bilge.
Saw movement there. Something bobbing.
‘To me,’ he said, his voice catching. He coughed. ‘To me!’
A man was at his side in a moment. ‘Captain?’
Barnet drew back. ‘The boy’s dead,’ he said. The crewman startled, but Barnet did not give him time to reply. ‘Remove the body. Then get two men down there to pump.’
The crewman reached down, climbing halfway into the bilge to bring out Oliver’s body. The boy must have struck his head on something, down in the dark, and drowned in the rancid water. A hard twist of guilt compressed Barnet’s lungs. The boy had been his responsibility; his mother…
The ship lurched again, and he turned away. There was work to do.
The storm lasted through the night. By dawn Barnet’s limbs were shivering and heavy. They had lost two hands: the boy, Oliver, and the man who had been flung into the rail. He ran their deaths through his mind over and again; all the things he could have done differently. He spent a short time composing himself in his cabin before he walked out onto the deck. The crew needed to see he was in control. They were exhausted and they knew the respite would be short-lived. The waters were calm for now; the sun had clawed its way through the clouds. But already the wind was starting to lift.
‘Bearing?’ he murmured to Hutch as the men wrapped the bodies in canvas.
‘We’re off-course, sir,’ Hutch replied. ‘Pushing too far west.’
Barnet set his jaw. ‘Repairs need to be made on the starboard rail,’ he said. ‘Weather-proof as much as you can and make sure the bilge pump is fully functional again. And make sure there is at least one man guarding the pirates. The last thing we need now is an escape and a mutiny.’
‘Yes, sir.’ But Hutch did not run to complete the tasks. There was something more important to be done first.
As they secured the canvas around the bodies with rope and weighted them with ballast-stones Barnet willed himself not to think of Constance. Not to return to a different ship, a different time, other bodies wrapped like these. He dragged himself away from the memories.
The men stood around the corpses with their heads bowed, hats in their hands. It did not seem to matter that the same men had tormented young Oliver almost ceaselessly, especially since Read’s disappearance.
Barnet intoned the office of committal but there was no time for the full respects. After a few short words they tipped the bodies overboard, and when it was done the crew turned to Barnet. He felt their eyes on him.
‘Back to work,’ he said at last. ‘We have no more than an hour before the storm hits again.’ He put a hard note into his voice. ‘Go!’
The men scattered. Barnet walked the length of the deck and stared out to the east. Darkness gathered, creeping towards them.
23
BONNY
The fever took a toll, but my body healed well. When I was able, I went to Read. It took me some time to find him—he’d never told me where his rooms were and he lived quietly to avoid being spotted by any of Barnet’s informants. I eventually tracked him down to the docks, where I found him rolling a barrel towards a jetty. I followed him down towards the sea.
‘Read.’
He caught the barrel and righted it, then turned to face me. Surprise hit his features. Then a careful blankness.
‘Bonny,’ he greeted. ‘What happened to you?’
I drew a breath and went straight to the matter at hand. ‘The Albion came in just over a week ago. They took Calico. They took the whole crew.’ I raised my fingertips to one of the yellowing bruises on my face. ‘Left me behind.’
He didn’t give much of a reaction but his eyes softened. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He didn’t ask about the baby. Best to leave Johnny out of things from now. Best to remind myself that he wasn’t mine anymore, that he would belong to the Cunninghams from now on.
‘Don’t be sorry,’ I said. ‘They’re not lost yet.’
His brow furrowed. I stepped closer to him. He had rescued me from Barnet’s ship. He had brought me to Jack. We were friends, though that friendship had come quick and unexpected. I wondered how far I could push it.
‘They’re heading for Nassau but we might still catch them. If not, it’ll still be time before a trial is held and longer still before a sentence is carried out. I have time to do something about it. So.’ I wanted to sit down. The world was still unsteady and I was so tired. ‘I need to get to Nassau. I need a ship.’
He sat on the barrel and started to fill his pipe. ‘A ship is one thing,’ he said. ‘But it’s no thing at all without a crew.’
‘I need a ship and a crew,’ I amended.
‘A ship, a crew, and a plan. And rations. And charts.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘Where do you expect to find these things, little fellow?’
‘I was hoping you might be able to tell me.’ We both knew what I was really asking. I tried for a smile. ‘I suppose I’m looking for an accomplice.’
He took in a mouthful of smoke and breathed it out again. ‘What makes you think I’d be so reckless? Charging with you across the ocean for folk I don’t even know. Caught up in whatever danger you keep dragging along.’
My stomach sank.
‘I have a job here,’ he went on. ‘The work’s steady. The pay is reasonable. The men are decent. It’s better than what I had on the Albion and it’s better than what I had at war. Good, honest living.’
‘You’ve had good honest living before,’ I said. ‘You ran an inn, you once said. Told me it wasn’t the life for you.’
‘I don’t want to be land-bound for all of my life.’ He paused there and I read into the silence: it didn’t mean he wanted to join up with pirates.
My gut twisted. I could get to Nassau on my own, but I’d wanted a man at my side who I could trust. And Read was the only one besides Calico who had come even close.
‘I understand.’
He winced, but I lifted a hand.
‘No, it’s…I understand, Read. You have something good here. And you’ve already done enough for me.’
‘What are you going to do?’
I didn’t have an answer for him. I was trying not to think about Nassau, about everything Calico was sailing towards. My silence must have been telling. Read reached over and put his hand on my shoulder.
‘If I can help some other way, I will,’ he said. ‘But I’m not sailing to Nassau.’
<
br /> Dressing as a man simply wasn’t an option, not so soon after Johnny’s birth. Breast-binding was painful, breeches hurt. I’d always been on the scrawny side but I’d filled out over the months. I couldn’t sign on with a crew as a woman. My only option was to pay for passage to Nassau on an honest ship and hope we got there safely. I swallowed my pride and went to Walter Cunningham for the money.
He was holding Johnny. Most men left the child-rearing strictly to the women, but Walter was as besotted with the babe as Rose was. He tried to wipe his smile away when he looked up at me but I could still see it playing around his lips as Johnny yawned and slid closer towards sleep.
‘Rose said you were thinking of going after them.’ He shifted in his chair. ‘It’s folly, Anne.’
‘I need to pay passage to Nassau.’
‘On your own?’
‘I don’t have any other option.’
‘No ship will take you on.’
‘I can talk my way onboard.’ I took a seat. I wanted to reach over and touch Johnny’s face as he scrunched up his nose but it wasn’t my place. I’d have to part with him for good soon, and that was as it should be. ‘But I need the money, Walter, and I don’t have any. Not even my pay from the jobs we did before Barnet took me. So I need to borrow from you. I’ll pay it back when I can. I don’t have any other assurances to give you.’
‘Anne…’
‘You’re just going to have to take me at my word. I’m the best chance Calico has.’
‘And if he’s already dead?’
‘Then he’s dead. But what if he’s not?’
Walter sighed and shook his head. I braced myself to argue, but he said, ‘You don’t have to borrow anything from us. Calico brought your pay when he stopped in here.’
‘What?’
‘And more besides. He wanted to ensure you had enough to keep you comfortable until Johnny was born, and he wanted to help us provide for the baby. I told him we did well enough for ourselves, but he insisted.’ He stood and gently lifted Johnny into my arms. My son—their son—stirred and then settled. His eyes drooped and finally closed. For a moment I thought I caught a glimpse of Calico’s features on his little face. Walter rummaged around in a cupboard, then came back with a purse. He set it on the table. It was full, looked heavy.