Beneath Black Sails

by Clare Sager

  But the bowsprit pointed out to open sea. Perhaps they’d been ashore and had attempted to leave on a low tide while fully laden. This edge of the reef was a few feet shallower than the southern side of the cove. If they’d anchored in the deeper water, the crew might not have realised the need to be so careful when leaving. And although a low tide here only changed the depth by a few feet, it was enough to make the difference between these rocks being harmless or ship-killers.

  She surfaced to take a breath.

  Knigh raised his eyebrows. “The rocks?”

  “That’s what I thought. Look, I’ve practised this – don’t try and match how long I stay under. Come up for breath when you need to.”

  “Good thing you warned me – I was planning on drowning.”

  She snorted. “Two jokes in one day? You are loosening up.”

  “Don’t get used to it. Must be sunstroke.”

  “And here I thought I was just a bad influence on you.” She flashed him a grin, then drew a deep breath and dived.

  A natural swimmer, this deeper diving was near-effortless for her. Still, Knigh managed to keep up, his muscles apparently useful as well as easy on the eye, even if he did have to surface for breath more often.

  Clusters of barnacles studded the wreck’s broken hull, and seaweed waved, but it wasn’t much thicker than the coating on The Morrigan – this ship couldn’t have been here much more than two or three months. Perhaps it hadn’t been picked over yet.

  They swam across the main deck at its listing angle, identifying at least a dozen cannons. The others could have fallen away, sinking into the depths off the edge of the reef. Belowdecks, barrels and crates littered the hold, some scattered as if they’d fallen, others floating against the highest parts of the hull.

  No exciting chests, full of treasure. And no bodies yet, either – the crew must have abandoned ship and made their way to shore.

  After surfacing again for breath, they dived for the captain’s cabin. Together, they wrenched the swollen door open and sculled inside.

  Dim, rippling light illuminated a table, chairs, candelabra, a wide bunk. If not for everything loose lying scattered in one corner of the room and weed choking the cabinet and staining an ornate mirror frame green, this could have been FitzRoy’s cabin.

  They navigated the room by pulling their way along the algae-slimed furniture. Vice went astern towards a desk, while Knigh made for the bed and a low shape that could only be a sea chest.

  Nothing in the desk drawers but stationery, but behind the desk, a blocky shape stuck out, as if something had fallen back there and become wedged between it and the wall. Gritting her teeth, she scrabbled down the back, fingers closing around – a box?

  A knock vibrated along the wall. When she looked over her shoulder, Knigh waited by the door, pointing up. She nodded and waved for him to surface. Her lungs didn’t burn yet, and this might be something interesting.

  Now she’d disturbed the fine layer of silt, the top of the box gleamed – some sort of pretty, varnished wood. Decent quality. It was a foot long and less than half that wide. And it was firmly wedged in place.

  The desk had been nailed to the deck, so she couldn’t move it to free the box. Instead, she floated above it, braced her feet on the leather writing surface and heaved.

  At first, nothing, just the strain of her muscles, warming, then a creak and she shot up, back slamming against the ceiling, blasting the air from her in a stream of bubbles.

  Bollocks, that bloody hurt and now her lungs did burn, but she had the box. She pushed off the desk towards the door, shoving her prize into the net bag. With a quick twist, she was out the door and kicking for the surface.

  They caught their breaths, and she showed him the box. It was locked, but they’d be able to open it back at camp. Later, they could bring helpers and the ship’s boat back with ropes to haul up the sea chest and perhaps some of the cannons. Those could be cleaned up and sold off for a tidy profit.

  “Now” – she glanced at the sun, still high in the sky – “I’d say we still have some time to explore the reef if you like?”

  His teeth flashed in a smile. “Oh, yes, there must still be more you can show me.”

  She chuckled. “Oh, the things I could show you, Knigh.” She winked and swam away from the wreck towards a part of the reef they hadn’t yet explored.

  He followed and as they dived again, something massive cut through the water, pulling on her awareness. She blinked out towards the open sea. A huge dark shape glided along the deep water just beyond the shallows, its course running parallel to the reef, coming closer.

  Wonder

  Vice squinted into the depths – if it was an archelon turtle, they’d be fine. If it was a bony-headed dunkleosteus or a tylo …

  She swallowed, ears popping.

  Beyond the reef’s shelter, a powerful current ran south, sweeping out to sea. Whatever this creature was, it was strong enough to swim against the current.

  She held up a hand of warning to Knigh. Perhaps they could take shelter in the reef, between the rocks. The wreck was probably too far away. The shore certainly was.

  Slow-moving. That was a good start.

  The creature drew closer. A spotted, wide head. The mouth opened, toothless, and some sixty feet further back, an upright, V-shaped tail swept side to side slowly.

  A whale shark.

  She released a relieved breath that bubbled to the surface. Smiling, she turned, but Knigh had already spotted it, his eyes wide, an uncertain crease between his brows. If she hadn’t known whale sharks weren’t carnivorous, she’d probably be wearing the same expression.

  She nodded reassurance and pointed up – best they refilled their lungs now, then dive again to get a full view of it swimming past.

  “A whale shark,” she told him once they surfaced. “I’ve only seen one before, and that was a juvenile, not yet fully grown. It was trapped in a fisherman’s net. Saba and I cut it free.”

  His eyebrows raised. “So, not a man-eater?”

  She grinned and shook her head. “Come on, let’s take a closer look – this is probably the biggest sea-creature it’s safe to get close to.”

  They dived together, and once they were at the whale shark’s depth, she tugged on his hand, taking them closer to the precipice. Her gift told her they were still several feet from the treacherous current.

  Releasing him, she kicked right to the edge of the reef, and as the whale shark approached, its great, flat head came just a few feet away. Her heart hammered to be so close to such a giant.

  Twisting, she watched the creature pass, the great sweep of its tail propelling it against the current with deceptive ease.

  As it faded into the blue distance, Vice grinned and kicked up to the surface.

  There were rare magical moments in life, and this had been one of them. And of all the people in the world, she’d shared it with a pirate hunter.

  Laughing, she looked over her shoulder. “Wasn’t that – Knigh?”

  No sign of him.

  “Knigh?” She turned in all directions, but he hadn’t surfaced. Her stomach dropped. He couldn’t hold his breath longer than her – they’d established that in the other dives. He had to be reaching his limit if he was still under.

  She inhaled, then ducked her face, searching for –

  Movement – out past the edge of the reef, Knigh’s arms and legs pumped against the current dragging him away.

  Bollocks, he must have drifted out too far while she’d been watching the whale shark.

  Swallowing, she dived, pushing her awareness into that swift stream of water. With one arm stretched towards the current, she focused on just that. Gods, it was strong – how had the whale shark made it look so easy to swim against?

  Knigh was now a dark, shrinking shape.

  Her hand flexed into a fist, tension solidifying every muscle in her arm. With her mind, she pulled. The energy burned through her, arms and legs soon aching as if s
he’d been in an hour-long fight. Her heart thundered, the sound of her pulse pressing on her ears.

  He wasn’t getting any smaller, but he hadn’t come any closer either.

  Bugger. It was too strong, she couldn’t reverse the whole current – there was too much water moving far too quickly. She could angle the flow where she needed and push tides to rise a little earlier, but this …

  Her arm trembled, muscles shrieking, but she couldn’t just let him go. If he was pushing that hard, he had to be close to running out of breath … if he hadn’t already. The thought engulfed her, cold as the Albionic seas in winter – his face still, pale, eyes lifeless, staring on and on, just like …

  She shook her head. Come on, Vice, you can do this.

  She couldn’t counter the whole current, no, but maybe she could take a small section of it.

  Teeth gritted, she narrowed her awareness on a thin trickle centred on that dark shape.

  The rushing current pushed past but that one little stream – that held still under her gift. Better. She nodded.

  Now to draw him closer.

  Frowning so hard her brow hurt, she squeezed her other hand into a fist and pulled. Her muscles groaned, and her joints popped but – yes, he was a little larger, a few yards closer. He wasn’t moving. Her throat tightened.

  Come on. More.

  She willed and willed and willed, and her body shrieked, pain lancing through her limbs, bones creaking as if they were about to break. Her eyes stung – perhaps tears leaked from them and mingled with the salty sea, she couldn’t be sure.

  Lungs burning for breath, she angled Knigh towards the reef. Just a few feet more.

  Maybe he realised he was moving against the flow, escaping its pull, because he kicked once, twice, and then he was over the reef, out of the current, and swimming to the surface.

  A last burst of air bubbling from her lips, Vice let go and the stream of water she’d held onto whipped away like a plummeting anchor rope. For a moment, all she could do was hang there, muscles scorched with exertion. But she needed to breathe, too. With a couple of feeble kicks, she drifted up, legs complaining all the while.

  And then the air broke over her head, and she gulped it in greedily, its freshness so searing it made her whimper.

  Knigh trod water a dozen feet away, gasping. His eyes and face were red – he must have been close to …

  She swallowed and shook her head, pushing away the thought. He didn’t die. He was alive.

  She scrubbed the stinging water from her eyes.

  This wasn’t like Evered. She hadn’t led him to his death.

  The breaths pumped through her, sharp and loud and a chill engulfed her.

  It was fine. He was fine. Just a close call. Nodding, she flopped back and let herself float, staring at the clear sky.

  That cold settled into her bones. She’d used too much energy.

  “Vee?” he said, close. “Are you –”

  “I’m fine.” But her voice came out soft and water splashed in her mouth. Spluttering, she righted herself, muscles sluggish and weak, the bag across her body dragging. “It’s this” – she coughed – “bloody box.”

  Brow etched with concern, he caught her arm, grip strong and sure. “Here.” He unhooked the bag and looped it over his shoulder. “Will you be all right to swim in?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Yes,” he huffed, “you keep saying that.”

  “Well, I am.” Her attempt to push him away was, admittedly, feeble. Still, he released her anyway, and she began swimming back to shore, pace painfully slow.

  When they reached the shallows, she tried to stand, but her legs gave out, and she splashed into the surf, knees hitting the sandy floor.

  “Vee.” He hurried over and grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet.

  He was so close, his body heat spilled into her, and she had to bite back a moan at how welcome that was against the chills shaking through her. His arm looped around her waist.

  She shook her head, teeth chattering. “Knighton, if you try and pick me up, I’ll cut out your –”

  “– tongue with my own dagger. Got it.” He snorted but didn’t try to lift her, only pulled her to her feet.

  Still, she leant heavily against him as they stumbled through the lapping wavelets and onto the warm, dry sand.

  “Wild Hunt,” he muttered, “you’re freezing.”

  She huffed. “You’re telling me.”

  Once they were up above the level of the waves, he lowered her into the sand. “There, that’ll warm you up.”

  She flopped in the sunlight, eyes shut, chest pounding.

  A minute later, he stood over her, blocking out the sun – except the sun was lower and she wasn’t dripping wet anymore. “What?” Despite her wobbly arms, she managed to sit up, frowning.

  “Bloody hells, Vee.” Shaking his head, he sank to his knees and held out a banana. “You’ve been unconscious for almost an hour.”

  “Huh.” She grabbed the fruit, tearing off the skin. When the sweetness touched her tongue, she moaned. She made short work of it, the powerful flavour and sugar cutting through her exhaustion.

  She blinked, looking around. Her breeches and boots sat beside her, and he was fully dressed again, both net bags across his body.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Are you back in the land of the living?”

  Nodding, she grabbed her breeches and wriggled into them. “Just about, I think.”

  “Come on, let’s get you back to The Morrigan.” He held out a hand and helped her up.

  Her legs complained at the soft sand and the effort it took to walk through, but she managed a smile as they set off. “You’ve got to admit it.”

  “What?”

  “That was all pretty exciting.”

  Head cocked, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you …” Shaking his head, he snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

  Pushing through the sand, she arched an eyebrow. “You have no idea.”

  Treasure

  A few days later, Vice stood at the stern of The Morrigan, watching the nameless island shrink on the horizon. Frowning at the green smear of rainforest, she broke pieces off a banana and threw them into her mouth as Barnacle rubbed up against her ankles.

  Knigh stepped into her peripheral vision and leant on the rail. The cat broke off and graced him with the same attention. “That’s a deep frown.”

  She scoffed and waved the remaining banana towards the island. “A deep frown for a wasted trip.”

  Eyebrows raised, he glanced fore and up into the shrouds where hands worked on lines and sails. “I’d say the rest of the crew don’t share your sentiment – they’re well-fed, rested, and the hold is stocked with fresh food.”

  “Yes, but we got no treasure from the detour – even that chest we went back for was just full of old clothes, ruined by the sea.” She sighed at the wake frothing up behind them, rippling out into ever-smaller waves.

  If she was going to become a captain, she needed to satisfy FitzRoy’s desire for gold and this trip had done nothing towards that. She checked he wasn’t nearby, then leant towards Knigh. “The food will spoil or get eaten, the water will get drunk. In a couple of weeks, it’ll be like this trip never happened.” She finished the last of her banana and tossed the peel into the water. “You were right, we should have gone straight after that treasure ship. This whole thing was a waste of time.”

  His fingertips tapped on the rail, and he smiled into the distance, perhaps at the last glimpse of the island, now just a dark spot. “Even if we didn’t find any treasure or the key to Drake’s fabled hoard” – he snorted, but a soft smile lurked at the corner of his mouth – “you seemed to enjoy yourself and – well, I know I did.” Drawing a long breath, he turned to her, folding his arms across his chest. The tight gesture looked like an attempt to protect himself, to block others off, but it only served to emphasise the lines of his muscles under his shirt.

  Vice blinked and raised her
eyebrows, leaning one hand on the rail and resting the other on her hip – as open as he was closed. “You enjoyed yourself? On an island full of pirates?”

  He lifted his chin. “I had the chance to swim around that incredible reef, to see that whale shark” – he sighed, shaking his head – “those are things I’m going to carry with me forever.” His grey eyes glinted, almost blue under the clear sky.

  He had to be playing with her. His face was poker-straight, though.

  She frowned and shook her head, then gave him a playful shove, laughing.

  “I’m serious.” He lifted his hands. “It may be news to the great Lady Vice, but there are other treasures in life than gold.”

  “You’ve been spending too much time with Perry – you sound just like her.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment – she’s very wise.”

  “I didn’t mean it as one.” She rolled her eyes but softened it with a grin. “Although, speaking of treasure, what happened to that box we took from the wreck?”

  “FitzRoy took it while you were – ahem – replenishing energy.”

  “Stuffing my face, you mean.”

  He lifted one shoulder, a smirk teasing at the edge of his lips. “I’d never speak of a lady in such a manner.”

  Lords and Ladies, she’d never have believed it a few weeks ago, but the dread pirate hunter Blackwood was actually loosening up. Wonders would truly never cease.

  A slight frown darkened his expression as he glanced fore. “So, you haven’t looked in the box yet?”

  “I haven’t seen it since we got back that day. Why? What’s in it?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen it either.”

  She narrowed her eyes. FitzRoy had spent a lot of time alone in his tent on shore and now was in his cabin. She’d assumed he was sulking about having to cut his nose off to spite his face by refusing to pursue the Hesperian treasure ship but …

  “Maybe it contained something interesting.” She pursed her lips and glanced down – they were immediately above FitzRoy’s cabin. Swallowing, she lowered her voice. “If it were just gold or jewels, he wouldn’t hide that – as much as he loves riches, he shares it with the crew, it would go to Perry to be accounted for and divided, but …” She looked aft, but the island had disappeared, only the horizon’s sweeping curve remained. “But we found no clues to Drake’s treasure on that island. What if that wreck had already made landfall, investigated the caves and found something? Saba said the ground had been disturbed.”