The Crew (Captains & Cannons Book 2)

by Galen Surlak-Ramsey

  “Inside the ship,” Maii went on. “The entire ship.”

  Marcus nodded and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest as a fire lit in his eyes. “Exciting, is it not?”

  “Quite,” Maii replied. He chewed the revelation over a few times in his head, wondering what to do with it all. After a few minutes, during most of which Marcus dove back into his tome and furiously began scanning the text, Maii realized he was going to need a lot more time to mull this over. A lot more time. “When do you think you’ll know more?” he finally asked.

  Marcus shrugged. “A few days at the very least,” he said, shrugging. “I should proceed with caution from here on out. Make plans. Revise plans. Make contingencies, and contingencies for the contingencies.”

  “All of that?” Maii asked, dropping his brow.

  “All of that and then some!” Marcus replied, thumping the table with excitement. “Calling such a powerful spirit back to a world it left is not without danger. I’ll need time to do it right, lest we all risk her wrath when she returns.”

  Maii pressed his lips together into a tight line, understanding the necromancer’s concern. Only a fool disregarded the haunted, regardless of whether or not it was a home, an object, or in this case, a vessel. The heaps of misfortune they could bring upon the hapless or arrogant were often second to none.

  “I suppose then, that I should inform the captain of this new development,” Maii said, lazily turning around. He paused at the curtain. “Would you like me to relay anything?”

  “Only that I’m not to be disturbed until I’m done,” Marcus grunted, face still stuck in his tome. “The skeletons can take orders without me.”

  “Very good,” Maii said as he let a devilish smile grow.

  With that, the ahuizotl left, wondering how best to take full advantage of this unexpected discovery.

  Chapter Fifteen

  New Port Royal

  By the next morning, all of the repairs to the sails and lines of the Victory were complete, and she cut through the blue waters with all the grace and speed of a mako. The start of the day went by without incident, but when midmorning rolled around with clear skies and the occasional seagull floating effortlessly overhead, a welcomed and much-anticipated cry cut through the air.

  “Captain! New Port Royal on the horizon!”

  Ethan’s eyes shot up to the crow’s nest, where one of the men leaned out and pointed to the line where the sky met the sea. Ethan beamed and made a quick adjustment of his tricorne hat before straightening his jacket. It was important to look the part as best he could, he knew, and with what he felt was an important moment in their adventure, he wanted to get this just right.

  “If you’d be so kind as to bring us in, Mister Potts,” he said. “And Katryna, see to the details once the longboats come to tow us to the docks.”

  “Aye, Captain,” she said.

  “If you need me, I’ll be talking to my XO in my quarters,” he added.

  “Aye, Captain,” she replied yet again.

  With that, Ethan led Zoey away while Katryna took over, barking orders. When they entered his quarters, Ethan shut the door behind them. As far as a captain’s area went, what he had was quite nice, and a thousand steps above the cramped rope hammocks the crew had to sleep in down below. A single bed lay tucked against the wall with ample room for one, or in Ethan and Zoey’s case, decent room for two. Red satin sheets covered the mattress, and several glass-covered candlesticks were mounted on the wall nearby. The aft wall held five large, arched windows, which allowed plenty of sunlight to illuminate the room.

  To the left sat a couple of chests, mostly empty at this point, as Ethan hadn’t much when it came to personal effects to store. The one on the right, however, did hold a hefty amount of coin that they’d taken from Lord Belmont’s estate. In the middle of the room was a round table, anchored in place, with four chairs spaced around it.

  Zoey headed for the closest one and dropped herself in it. “What’s on your mind?”

  “The race,” Ethan said, grabbing the seat across from her. Nervous energy filled his body, and he tried to drum it out on the table with his hands, but it didn’t seem to help much.

  “You’re worried?”

  “A little, maybe.”

  Zoey laughed with relief. “Good,” she said, leaning forward with a smile. “It’s about damn time.”

  “Good? How is that good?” he replied. “I’ve been faking this whole thing the entire time. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, and well, the battle we just had that I practically got us all killed in made everything really, really, really real.”

  Zoey reached over and grabbed his still-drumming hands. “Yes, good,” she said once she held his gaze. “You should be nervous, Ethan. You’re challenging Death to a race, and there’s no coming in second. You’ve got to win.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn’t.”

  “I’m saying that it’s good you’re freaking out because that means you’re taking both this race and this world seriously,” she replied. “We’d be in a hell of a lot more trouble if you thought this was going to be a walk in the park, you know?”

  “I guess. Felt like we were already in a hell of a lot of trouble, and those were just a couple of pirates.”

  “Ethan, you did well,” she said.

  “Only because I listened to Maii and blew my once-a-week skill,” he said. “I didn’t really do any of that on my own. Not really.”

  “Hey, I wouldn’t lie to you,” she said. “You did well for your first engagement—a two on one, at that, and no matter how you feel about what you did or didn’t do in the heat of the battle, remember, it was your idea to trade for the carronades. They absolutely proved their worth ten times over.”

  “Yeah…yeah, I guess they were my idea,” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  Her words helped calm him, some, but Ethan hardly felt inspired. Furthermore, despite his recent last few days of accomplishing things he never would’ve dreamed of being able to do back home, deep down in his soul, he was still just Ethan—a guy with a mediocre-at-best job who was terrified of even talking to the girl across the hall.

  Zoey squeezed his hands. “What?”

  “I’m still faking it, regardless of what you say.”

  “What’s wrong with faking it?”

  “Everything?”

  Zoey shook her head but kept her smile. “When I first started as a nurse, we had this guy in ICU, multiple system failure. Actually, check that. Total system failure. He was my second case I had when I was let loose on my own. Guy was fifty-something, long history of substance abuse, and it was probably a miracle he lasted that long before his body just gave up. Anyway, I walk in there one morning, and his sister is there like she usually was. Most days, she didn’t say much, but for whatever reason, that day, she gave me both barrels completely out of the blue, yelling, screaming, calling me names, all because she said I didn’t know what I was doing, and her brother should be better.”

  Zoey paused for a moment as her eyes drifted to the side as if she were watching her story play all over again in her head. “And you know what?” she said, returning to Ethan after a smirk. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I mean, I was trained, obviously, and I aced every class I ever took. But no amount of nursing school could’ve prepared me for that absolute disaster of a patient, both in terms of his physical condition and all the goddamn family drama he was involved in—let’s just say, if you knew even a tenth of the abuse he suffered, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d blown his brains out at twenty instead of poisoning himself to fifty.

  “Anyway,” she went on after another pause. “Long story short—”

  “Too late.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said, grinning. “I held it together until I got to my floor supervisor and just bawled my eyes out for the next hour. I was in over my head. The family wanted way more than
I could provide, and all I wanted was out. Laura, my boss, told me something that absolutely saved my career. She said, and I quote, ‘I might be the only person to ever tell you this, professionally, but sometimes you just have to fake it until you make it. So, get back in that room, and at least pretend you know exactly what you’re doing.’”

  Ethan leaned back in the chair, letting her words soak into his mind. “She actually said that to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But like, what if you killed the guy? I mean, no offense. I’m not calling you stupid, but you even said you were in way over your head.”

  “The guy was going to die, regardless of what I did,” she said. “The family needed reassurance we knew how to care for them, and if I was going to get better as a nurse, I needed to face a situation I wasn’t ready for. You don’t get better, Ethan, if you’re doing the same easy thing over and over and over.”

  “I guess,” he said. “I don’t think that quite works here. Katryna, Maii, the crew—”

  “Need to feel like you know what you’re doing,” she said. “They’re watching you. You know that. I know you know that.”

  “Yeah, but at least you knew the basics of nursing. What the hell do I know about racing Death?”

  Zoey laughed and rolled her eyes. “You want the basics?” she asked. “Here they are. Pay attention. There are three things to make all of this work. First, you need a ship. Second, you need a crew. And third, the most important, you’ve got to cross the freaking finish line first. You’ve got two of the three down. Tap into anyone and everyone else with better expertise to make number three happen.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Ethan,” Zoey said, cutting him off. “Being captain doesn’t mean you do everything. It just means you’re responsible for everything. Empower the crew. Respect their abilities. Listen to their suggestions and advice, but ultimately, you’ve got to at least pretend that when you speak, that’s the law, and that’s the course we’re going to take. If you do all that, they’ll follow you. And if they follow you, we can win this stupid race.”

  Ethan put his elbows on the table, clasped his fingers together, and rested his chin upon them. “Do you honestly think we can do this?”

  “Since we’re having a heart-to-heart, I’m not going to lie,” she said. “Azrael will probably win. So, if he ever offers you some sort of deal that lets you out of this, I won’t blame you for taking it.”

  Ethan snorted. “As if he’d offer.”

  “He might,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve heard tattle where he’s shown a little favor to opponents he likes.”

  “Maybe, but I doubt that deal would help you.”

  “Probably not. He’s already given me one break, remember?”

  “Then I won’t take it.”

  “Ethan—”

  “No,” he said. “I’m not leaving you behind. I promised.”

  Zoey sighed. “Fine. That’s sweet, but I’m used to living here. I’ll manage and find another way. I always do, right?”

  “I don’t care,” Ethan said. “I’m getting you out of there and helping you save your kids. Anyway, you said he’d probably win. That means there’s a chance he might not.”

  “There’s always a chance, but no one’s been that lucky.”

  “I’m the pirate king of luck, remember?”

  Zoey snorted. “Sorry, that’s one stat will need at least another zero attached to it before we can effectively rely on it.”

  “Then what can we rely on?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure,” she said. “But we do have one thing definitely going for us: we’re the underdog. And no matter what anyone says, the underdogs have a propensity for being underestimated. Azrael will have a few other challengers this year he’ll be paying more attention to.”

  Ethan nodded, as that simple point made a lot of sense to him. “How long is the race in total?”

  “A thousand leagues, give or take,” Zoey replied. “Which, if you don’t stop at all, takes two or three weeks, depending on how well the wind favors us. We’ll get a chance to see the waypoints tonight after registration is closed, and we can make plans then on what routes we want to take.”

  “There are routes?”

  “Some minor choices in a few spots, but yes, ultimately, we won’t all sail the exact same path,” she explained. “They each have their own advantages based on which ship is sailing them.”

  “Gotcha,” he said. Then, after some thought, he added. “That means we have time then to figure things out.”

  “We do. Got anything on your mind yet you want to try?”

  “No, but you said Azrael would be watching other competitors more than us.”

  “I would be if I were him.”

  “Then my first thought is we don’t sail as fast or as hard as we can at the start,” Ethan said. “If they think we’re slower than we are, we can make them pay for that assumption later on—maybe by taking a route they aren’t and coming out ahead.”

  “I like,” Zoey replied, face brightening as a genuine look of hope washed over her. “I mean, it’s simple, but it has a lot of merit to it.”

  “Right. I guess we should get back on deck, then.”

  “Probably,” Zoey said, standing. “It’ll give you more practice at faking things.”

  * * *

  The splash of the anchor falling preluded the Victory easing to a halt by the docks. Immediately, the skeletal crew threw lines to a couple of the men who jumped over the rails and onto the docks. Said men then quickly tied the ship down to the heavy iron cleats.

  “I think that’s the best docking I’ve done yet,” Ethan said, admiring how quickly and smoothly the process had gone.

  “Helps to have a crew who knows what they’re doing as opposed to one guy that just learned how to tie a sheet bend four days ago,” Zoey said. “Not to mention, a longboat with a veteran harbor pilot to tow us in.”

  “That’s why I’m such a good delegator,” Ethan replied, bumping her with his shoulder as they made their way across the main deck. “I know my limitations and direct accordingly.”

  “You mean Katryna directs accordingly,” Zoey replied. “She’s the one giving all the orders.”

  “True, but I’m telling her where I want to go, so it all works out.”

  As if on cue, Katryna’s voice cut through the air as she barked orders from the poop deck, accentuating Zoey’s point. “Finish furling those sails, damn you all!” she yelled. “I’ll feed every last one of you to the next leviathan we see if I have to say it again!”

  Ethan cocked his head, focusing more on her threat than Zoey’s warning. “Does a leviathan eat skeletons?”

  “They eat anything,” she said. Zoey pulled him toward the plank that had just been set between the Victory and the docks. “Let’s go register so we can at least relax the rest of the day before the race starts. Maybe pick up some extra stores afterward.”

  Ethan, agreeable to the suggestion, took the lead and hurried off the ship and onto the docks. The entire harbor, a massive area stretching nearly a mile, was crammed with ships, three score of which were participants in the regatta. Regarding the immediate area of the docks they were in, a few other ships shared that space: a couple of sloops along with a single rowboat lashed to one of the pylons.

  At first, Ethan didn’t pay much attention to who happened to be nearby, but it only took a few moments for him to realize that a small crowd had formed—and continued to grow—at the far end. The cause for said crowd was easily determined by their gapes and points toward his ship, something even his previous eight INT likely would’ve figured out.

  A skeletal crew was not the norm.

  “Are they going to be a problem?” Ethan asked, hitching a thumb back toward their crew.

  “Shouldn’t,” Zoey replied, though the angst in her face belied her words. “Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  �
�Unless there’s an inquisitor around on some sort of holy quest,” she finished. “But they usually stick to the mainland and wouldn’t come here, and as long as our guys stay on the ship, we should be fine either way.”

  “Well, that’s good, at least,” Ethan said with a shrug, not sure what else to do, and kept walking.

  “There will be extra eyes on us, however,” she went on. “Keep that in mind when you get hungry.”

  “Ah, I take it that’s frowned upon here.”

  “It’s frowned upon everywhere,” she said with a laugh. “You should know that.”

  “Know? No. Suspected, yes,” Ethan said.

  “Yeah, well, if you get caught, not only will you have angry townsfolk to deal with, but the lords I told you about will hear about it, too,” she said, voice hushed. “And then—”

  “We’re in serious trouble,” Ethan finished.

  “Exactly.”

  The conversation ended, and the two continued down the docks, Ethan keeping a wary eye on the crowd as they did. The mass of sailor and citizen parted a few seconds later, and from it strode a large man with bronze skin, lustrous black hair that fell in curls, and a tricorne hat.

  He approached with speed and purpose, like he could command the world with a single word. He walked upon polished leather boots with black trousers tucked and bloused over the tops. A ruffled, ivory-white shirt covered his torso, and over that, he wore a giant blood-red jacket with gold trim and embroidery that hung an inch above his knees. Across his chest, held fast by leather straps, were three flintlock pistols, their wooden butts polished to perfection.

  But the armory the man sported didn’t stop there. He also wore an ornate rapier off one side and carried an elegant main-gauche off the other. Ethan had no idea how much either of those cost, but he had a feeling they’d each fetch enough to feed a small army, especially if the intricate runes inscribed across their blades were any indication of the craftsmanship involved.