“Thanks, mate.”
His green eyes were bright as crystal, his shirt open to the waist. There was no chance he felt threatened by her this morning—he was a man of five-and-twenty at least, and so handsome, despite the wild look in his eyes. Still, he hadn’t seemed happy to find her and Anne alone.
“Don’t eye me so nervously,” he said, a large onion-shaped bottle in each hand. “I do like you, you know.”
She started pulling the jolly boat to shore, where the rest of them were already beached. “That’s good to hear, sir.”
He set one of the bottles back in the boat and began working the cork of the other. “I was only a bit younger than you when pirates took the ship I was traveling on—thirteen years old. I loved pirate stories. I was excited when I realized we’d be facing real buccaneers.”
“I think we all dreamed of being pirates when we was young,” she offered, giving the jolly boat another hard tug. “The stories about Henry Avery and the like are hard to ignore, especially when you’re poor and stuck in some filthy tenement.”
“Well, it didn’t go quite how I imagined it. The pirates that took me on was a nasty lot. Once they captured our brig, they went about killing every last captive. They killed my nurse right in front of me, while I cowered. My father must have died during the fighting—I found him with his throat slit.” Jack stared at the cork he’d pulled free of the bottleneck. “When I saw him dead—this raging desire to live came over me. I stomped up and down the deck brandishing a cutlass, screaming about how I was going to be the most infamous freebooter that ever lived. That they’d be sorry if they didn’t take me on. I’d hunt them all down and make them walk the plank. They were charmed, I think. I was very convincing.” The cork came loose with a popping sound. “I put on the show of my life—just like you did back there.”
Survival by performance—that did sound like her. “I can’t imagine standing up to monsters like that.”
“I wasn’t a child for long.” He paused to take a long drink, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “But it worked out for the best. Here I am, still a gentleman of fortune, though I could have found a way off the account long ago.” There was a note of bitterness in his voice as he tossed the cork in the water and offered the bottle to her. “Here you are, son. I think making safe harbor after a caper like that deserves a celebration, don’t you?”
Mary took the wine. “Sounds like a cracking idea, sir.”
Jack dipped his hands in the sea and wiped the grime from his face. “Anne says that you’re keen to get to Nassau,” he said casually, as he left the swash and put a hand on the jolly boat’s prow.
Mary was embarrassed to think Anne had told the captain about her sweetheart—although it might have helped convince Jack she wasn’t keen on his mistress. “Oh, aye. That’s where I’m aiming to end up eventually.” She got behind the boat and braced herself to push.
“That’s grand,” Jack said in a satisfied tone. He lifted the front end with two hands. “You seem like a trustworthy chap. I’m going to tell you something in confidence. The king’s offering pardon to pirates who turn themselves in. You’ve heard about this?”
“Aye,” Mary grunted, pushing with her free hand as Jack lifted, until most of the boat was out of the water. It was part of the same proclamation that had brought Nat to the new world to hunt pirates. Along with the promise of pardon, the king was offering hefty rewards for bringing in those pirates that didn’t turn themselves in—and it was all coordinated in Nassau, where the new governor was intent on stamping out the pirate nuisance that had lingered after the war with the Spanish.
Jack waited as she set her bottle down in the sand. She lifted her end, and they began walking the boat onto the beach. “Our crew has been lucky of late. With the haul we just took in from the Vissen, I’m thinking I might have enough shine to merit taking that pardon and exchanging the account for a comfortable life. It might be high time to go to Nassau to claim the pardon.”
“That’s brilliant!” Who would have imagined it would be so easy to get where she was going?
“I was hoping you’d say that. Sadly, not everyone on the crew feels that way, and I can’t just waltz off and leave my crew behind. Some consensus needs to be reached. Even Anne has been hard to persuade.” They set the boat down out of danger of the tide. “She can be very hard to please, as you might imagine.”
“But she told me she wanted to go to Nassau—” Mary huffed, catching her breath.
“Aye, and it would be what’s best for her. She likes you, Mark. I think she might listen to you, if you were to tell her your reasons for wanting a peaceful return to Nassau, so that we might keep our treasure and our lives.” Jack picked up the bottle she had set down. “And if you happened to talk to some of the other men who didn’t seem inclined to take the pardon—you might tell them your reasoning as well? But keep it on the quiet side. I’m still figuring out the best way to bring everyone around.”
“I’ll do that, sir. I’d be happy to.” She’d hoped to make her way to Nassau soon after joining the pirates, but it sounded like it might happen more easily than she’d thought.
“Knew I did the right thing, taking you on.” Jack handed her the wine. “The rest of that is for you, son. Drink your fill!” He reached into the boat and pulled out the other bottle. He opened it and held it out. “To freedom!” he shouted, loud enough that his voice echoed down the beach.
Others joined in as Mary responded—“To freedom!” Her bottle clinked against his, splashing wine onto the sand. Voices roared in unison as she tipped the bottle back.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ISLA DE COTORRAS—1719
THE WINE LEFT GRIT ON HER TONGUE AS MARY DRAINED THE LAST OF IT. She discarded the bottle and rocked forward on her knees, wobbling there as she considered Anne over the sheep carcass hanging between them. Anne’s voice had just risen and she’d said something about Nassau, which had caught Mary’s attention. The smoke distorted her vision, the red of Anne’s dress bleeding into the night around her. Beyond her other fires flared, each pit with its own spit and a ring of raucous men around it. There must have been close to a hundred men, all told, now that they’d met up with the rest of the crew. Parrots and monkeys and God knows what else screamed from the dark wall of jungle beyond the beach, so loud it was hard to hear.
“What was that you said?” Mary called to Anne.
Paddy’s soft eyes flicked from Anne to Mary. “Are you cracked?” He shook his head, stringy hair sticking to his neck where it had come loose from its pigtail.
Mary made a face at Paddy as she stood up. “What’s this you’re on about?” she asked, scuffing through the sand and plopping down next to Anne. Jack had said Anne needed some sort of convincing about returning to Nassau, but Mary was still unclear about what he’d meant. “You mentioned this morning that we’re only staying on this island till we decide what’s next.”
Anne gestured at Mary with the bottle. “Aye, that’s just what we was”—she gave Jack a sideways glance—“discussing.”
“So where is it you want to go?” asked Mary. She was in love with Anne’s boldness.
“Jaysus, Mark,” Paddy said. “Come back here, I’ll tell you where to go to keep your arse in one piece.”
A couple of men laughed. Jack said, “No, no, my lady is in need of an audience. Go on, my dove. Tell the boy your damned plan.”
The fire popped loudly as Anne wiped her lips. “I’ll start by asking you this. Why are we here? Why do we have to hide out on some deserted island, when most of us call New Providence home?”
“That’s easy,” said a man on the far side of Paddy. He popped up to his knees, sliding hands over his mouth. What Mary had thought was a sneer earlier was actually a slight harelip that gave him the appearance of a perpetually curling lip. “Since the new governor came with all his plans for a god-fearing colony, we can no longer expect a proper homecoming.” A smattering of laughter broke out around the circle,
and a couple of hisses as well.
“A proper hanging’s more like it,” another man called.
Anne bared her teeth. “Exactly! But if we hadn’t spent our time dithering and arguing among ourselves, we could have sank Rogers’s fleet and kept Nassau for ourselves. Am I wrong?”
There were a couple of ayes, but a couple of nos as well.
“We did what coves like us do.” A big chap in gold earrings leaned toward the fire. “People like us find a place to moor our brigs without fear during war, while kings are too busy drubbing each other to notice—but we have to scupper our hides out of there quick once all settles down and the attention turns to us.”
“That, or take the pardon,” Jack remarked.
Anne pounded a fist in the sand. “We don’t need to take the bloody pardon to go home! A new governor with a scrap of paper in his hand ran us out—I still don’t quite understand how he managed it. But look at us! A hundred men, almost, and that count rising! What’s to stop us from taking Nassau back?” Anne cast her eyes to the men circled around her. Shadowy bodies ringed the fire like a rock wall. Here and there an eyeball or wet lip glistened in sharp relief from the blaze. Some men were nodding, some were shaking their heads.
“We’re freebooters, not a rebel army,” Jack said. “And we’ll lose any chance of pardon if we try and fail.”
“I think someone’s got a bit of a chip on her shoulder about a certain husband of hers turning coat and following Rogers,” remarked the man with the harelip. “Anne’s intent on sailing back to Nassau just to see him swing.”
He had to duck when Anne flung her bottle at him in response. “This is about justice, not about some stupid sailor who wasn’t man enough to fight back.” Her eyes fixed on Jack, the light from the fire arching her brows maniacally. “But I’ll never go back to New Providence seeking pardon from the governor, when I know I’ll have to beg it from that bastard as well.”
“Jack’s plan is sensible,” said Mary. “Why not take the pardon, if they’ll let us keep our plunder?”
“I didn’t say that was my plan,” said Jack, putting a hand on her arm. “It’s just one of the options.” Mary met his eyes, and his gaze was a warning before her released her. Too late, she remembered—keep it quiet. Christ. She was drunk, but the disagreement Anne had joked about aboard the Vissen seemed less trivial now, as Jack’s lips pressed into a firm, disapproving line.
“Pardon might still be an option for you, Jack,” a voice growled out of the dark beyond the ring of firelight. Bill, the quartermaster, was standing beyond Paddy’s silhouette, hands clasped behind his back. Who knew how long he’d been listening. “But there’s some of us who will lose every freedom we have if we return to Nassau, not just the little you would give up.”
“That’s it exactly!” Words began rushing from Anne as she stood, and Mary’s pulse quickened. “We’ve two brigs now, with almost twenty guns between them. Wait till the word gets back to New Providence and Jamaica. Our brothers will be joining us here any day now. Another ship or two, and we’ll have a fleet that will rival Blackbeard’s. Get the element of surprise on our side and it’ll be Rogers who swings, not us!”
“Apologies, captain.” The gritty voice came out of the darkness again, and Bill stepped into the firelight, his illuminated face impassive as rock. Beside his muscled bulk Anne looked like a spark, burning hot but so small. “It might’ve sounded like I agree with Anne on this, but I don’t. All she’s doing is filling your men’s heads with fairy stories. We need to make a real plan. One all your men can stand behind.”
Anne stiffened, and Jack jumped to his feet.
“I know, Bill.” Jack placed a hand on Anne’s shoulder, to comfort her or hold her back, Mary couldn’t tell. His tone was mild. “Sure, we’re all just speculating here.”
“No, Jack. You keep dropping hints about the pardon, that maybe we should take it. Just one more plunder. Maybe two. Just enough to waltz away rich after we turn ourselves in.” Bill looked away and spat into the sand. “In the meantime, you’re ignoring the real threat. We drew ire when we took the Kingston, and I’m sure there are plenty searching for us as we speak. We need to find a better place to hide out, somewhere we can defend ourselves proper if we’re discovered.”
“You’re just afraid, old man,” Anne hissed at Bill, pulling against Jack’s grip as he tried to still her. “And there’s no room for cowards here.”
“Anne, that’s enough.” Jack tried to tug her back but lost his grip when she resisted.
“That might be up for debate,” said Bill. “But what’s never been is whether there’s room for a woman.” He looked pointedly at Jack. Voices began to swell around the fire.
“—don’t have the right to be on that throne, let alone making proclamations—”
“—here till the wine runs out—”
“—what you get for bringing a woman on board—”
“—will do him in, if anything will. Never should’ve gone back for her.”
Anne’s eyes flicked to the men ringed around her, to the jungle and ocean beyond, to the lone pistol at her hip, and Mary’s stomach soured in fear. This crew had already mutinied against one captain. What would happen if they mutinied against Jack?
When Anne lifted her face to the light again the rage was gone, replaced by something softer. She took a step back, closer to Jack. Her lashes fluttered as she turned her head away. “You know it could be more than just fancy, men like yourselves standing up to the law.” As she turned her head her throat caught the light. “I just know what kind of men you are. I’ve talked with all of you, and I know you want more than to run your whole life.”
Mary’s fingers contracted into the sand, stomach sinking at the change in Anne’s tone.
“Bill, this is exactly why I made you quartermaster.” Jack’s hands came to rest on Anne’s shoulders, the fabric dimpling under his fingers as he squeezed. He stepped lightly around her. “The voice of caution, reason, and all that.”
The arguing subsided. Bill inclined his head and spoke quickly. “Sir, there’s no harm in resting here for a few days, but we mustn’t stay. There are places we could go, in the northern colonies—”
“Our last captain listened too much to those who were fearful of capture.” Jack paused to crush an ember out with the toe of his boot. “And because of that, we languished under his command. Since I’ve been captain, haven’t we seen a drastic turn of fortune? We’ve taken risks that have made us all rich men, but that doesn’t mean anything in the jungle. Might it not be time for a different kind of risk, one that allows us to enjoy the wealth we’ve gained?”
The other men were silent.
“We didn’t mutiny because of Charlie Vane’s cowardice.” Bill’s tone was slow and even, each word a stone dropped into still water. “We mutinied because he went against the will of his crew. Sir.”
Jack pressed earnest hands to his chest. “And I have done everything you ask of me! Have I not? I led you to treasure and then to safety, have I not? We both want Avery’s Madagascar, don’t we? We just have different ideas about how to get it.” He shook his head. “I’ve every intention of taking your concerns into consideration. I want what you want, mate, don’t forget that.”
Mary found she could breathe easier. So this was why Jack was captain, despite his silly britches—the way this man talked, all gold and honey, made her want to trust him.
Anne leaned into Jack, but he moved away as the conversation around the fire rose again, and she stumbled as he left her side. She looked around as if searching for something to hold onto that might bear her up again, and her eyes landed on Mary.
Anne came over, but when she squatted down her gaze was full of contempt. “Maybe you should keep your mouth shut about things you don’t understand.” She stood, sand flinging from her skirts into Mary’s eyes. When Mary finished rubbing sand from her lashes Anne was gone, disappeared into the darkness.
Paddy was shaking his head. “Come
back over here, lad,” he said, patting the spot beside him. “I think it’s time you kept your head down for a bit.”
Mary crawled over and sloshed to sitting beside him. “Aye, I’ll listen to you next time you tell me to mind meself.”
“I doubt that,” Paddy said fondly, scruffing her hair. “But I’ll be sure to tell ye, all the same.”
CHAPTER NINE
WAPPING, LONDON—1717
MARY STOOD ON THE LANDING FOR A LONG MOMENT, STARING AT THE tenement door. It was a stained, splintered piece of wood, nothing like the door in Granny’s garret, with its brass fixtures and fresh varnish. She liked her little space at Granny’s house in Westminster so much better than this. But she’d felt like she was going mad with her the only one in the world knowing she was a girl.
When Mary pushed the door open she found Mum sagging in her usual chair by the fire. The hearth was cold, a candle sputtering on the table. Mum’s hair was still beautiful, golden and in soft disarray around her face. “Mum?” Mary whispered.
Mum’s head whipped up and she put a hand to her forehead, squinting at the doorway. Her face looked gaunt and shadowed. Mary frowned at the empty bottle on the table, and the glass of tipple in Mum’s hand.
“Mark!” Mum’s hand went to her chest. Even her smile was thin. “You gave me a fright.”
Mary shut the door behind her. “It’s Mary, Mum,” she said. “Please.”
Mum leaned forward, gesturing for Mary to come close. “What news have you for your mum? Granny’s just loving having you, is she?” Mum struggled to sit up in her chair and Mary approached to help her. Mum grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her close. “You know I’ve had nothing to get by on since you left. Tell me you’ve brought a bit of shine. You did, didn’t you, Mark?”
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