Sea of Ruin

by Pam Godwin

  “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, re
luctant 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.

  Every second was an eternity as I descended through blue water, lungs burning, legs frantically kicking, heart flailing, vision fading. I’d understood the danger of falling overboard but wasn’t prepared for the sudden, petrifying attack of hysterics.

  My throat spasmed, fighting the reflex to gulp. Undercurrents of water slammed into me like invisible fists, thrashing me around and jumbling my sense of direction. I searched for the surface, unable to see sunlight through the increasing black spots.

  I’d hoped to avoid unconsciousness, but it was inevitable now as my strength abandoned me, giving way to violent, involuntary contractions in my muscles. The need to breathe was so vicious I didn’t think I could suffer another second without gasping.

  The last thing I saw was Jade’s mighty hull overhead. She dispersed waves of water as she turned, making her utmost speed with sails that must have been full and close-hauled. With the warship still moored, Jade would be safely out of firing range within minutes.

  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.

  I came to awareness, choking, convulsing, and vomiting seawater. Callused hands turned me side to side, pounding my back, and pushing on my abdomen between agonizing intervals of wet coughs and tremors.

  Minutes lasted hours as every muscle and organ worked to expel the burning water. When my airway finally cleared, I lay bone-tired and grateful to be alive with a wooden deck canting lazily beneath me.

  The warship.

  Blinking ocean tears from my eyes, I stared up at the rank and file of uniforms on the upper deck, where I sprawled like a starfish.

  Gold buttons, hats cocked on three sides, navy-issued dragoon pistols, boots of the finest leather, stoic expressions… The soldiers stood as one, symbolizing England’s power.

  I couldn’t see Jade’s mighty masts off the starboard bow. Couldn’t hear her sheets hissing in the wind. Couldn’t detect the stench of blood or the gunpowder smoke of battle. The navy sailors were all here, seemingly awaiting orders without urgency. Which meant they weren’t engaged with my ship.

  They’d let her go.

  By the teeth of almighty God, my ruse had worked.

  Jade escaped!

  Quiet jubilation startled into my throat and tumbled past my lips, rolling into hacking fits of laughter.

  Two men stood over me, bowing their cocked hats together. Lieutenants, given their buckled shoes and powdered periwigs.

  “Why is she laughing?” one asked. “Does she not realize her crew threw her overboard to save their own hides?”

  “She’s mad as a March hare,” the second lieutenant said.

  “Oh, my foolish lads.” Grinning maniacally, I pushed to a sitting position and straightened the shirt to cover my nudity. “You have no idea what you just invited onto your ship.”

  They glowered down their bladed noses with all the haughtiness of English nobility. I yawned, losing interest.

  Meanwhile, every muscle in my body continued to shake, reminding me I almost drowned. Or maybe I did? Which one of these pretty boys brought me back to life? Why was no one addressing me or slapping me in irons?

  Perhaps I was the first woman to ever step onto this first-rate ship of the line. But every seaman in the vicinity stared as if I were a mystical, fire-breathing sea dragon they’d mistakenly hauled from the sea.

  They’d caught a lady pirate and seemed uncertain about what to do next.

  “Don’t put a ball through my heart.” I thrust my hands in the air. “I’m just going to stand.”

  No one moved as I wobbled ungracefully to my feet and made a quick scan of the horizon. The silhouette of distant sails sent a flutter of relief through my chest. Beyond the range of the warship’s guns, Jade was already vanishing beneath the horizon.

  Keep them safe, Reynolds.

  Centering my bare feet on the rolling deck, I took a quick inventory of my body. Dripping wet, Pri
est’s shirt hung to my knees. The jade stone still sat against my throat. And that was the extent of what I carried with me.

  I staggered toward the uniformed men. Numerous fingers twitched against pistol belts, but not a gun was drawn.

  My fate didn’t reside in the hands of low-ranked soldiers.

  I searched the sea of blue frocks, looking for the one with jeweled buttons and elaborate embroidery of gold curlicues.

  There. Lord Ashley Cutler, the commodore of HMS Blitz, stood just aft from a short raised deck, his hat tucked under an elbow, and a big hand curled around the top rail, confident, patient, cool as rain in the warm sea air under the bluest of blue skies.

  Stunning bright blue like his eyes.

  How unexpectedly…gorgeous.

  The shocking intensity of his gaze pushed against me, rudely, blatantly glaring, so distractingly at odds with the sweetness of his face. Mercy God, he had such an innocent-looking face. All marble-smooth skin, full rosy lips, thick heavy lashes, with the wind ruffling the black as ink strands of his short hair.

  That sweet look, however, didn’t disparage the unsettling aura of his presence. He regarded me as if he didn’t care a whit if I lived or died or sprouted wings and clucked like a chicken. Apathy formed an impenetrable shield around him, and perhaps that explained why his face gave the impression of youthsome innocence.

  With ordinary people, exhaustion sagged the eyes. Anger carved between the brows. Triumph etched around the mouth. But Lord Cutler showed none of that. No emotions. No wrinkles or lines. No expressions. He bore the straightest, smoothest, most polished mien of indifference I’d ever seen.

  I wanted a closer inspection.

  Soldiers quivered and stiffened down the line, but no one stopped me as I ambled aft, arrowing toward their commodore.

  His passionless blue eyes didn’t waver from mine. Unnerving.

  Stacks of corded, well-honed brawn composed his tall frame. Intimidating.

  Sinews neither flexed nor bounced. Not the muscles in his jaw. Not the tendons in his thick neck. Not even when I stood toe to toe with him, half-dressed, nipples protruding, with my finger poking at one of his jeweled buttons. Unnatural.