"It's fine."
Dillahunt shifted his chin to the horizon. "We should be within sight of Griffith's island in three days, if it truly exists."
"It exists," Nathan assured him.
"No offense intended. Pirates are naturally inclined to devious plots, and you are a pirate, last I looked."
"I'm a guide," Nathan reminded him. "Nothing more."
"You'd claim yourself a furry little ferret if it helped you elude the gallows. I've had dealings with pirates all my life. In fact, I can't seem to crew a ship without them. If you want the truth, I'm not certain any man here has earned my trust, apart from my loyal first mate. Governor Rogers believes he can make honest sailors of pirates. I told Rogers the line between privateer and pirate is a thin one, drawn in sand, easily swept away by a strong tide. He wrote off my words as 'overly dramatic' at the time, yet now he sends me to catch Benjamin Hornigold. Can't blame me for keeping my . . . guard . . . up . . . " Dillahunt's gaze trailed away with his sentence. "Are you absolutely certain that cannon is not out of place?"
Nathan did not look again. "It may be a notch off."
Relief washed over Dillahunt's face. "I suspected as much."
"Should I adjust it, captain?"
"No. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one who saw it. Carry on." Dillahunt took his leave, glancing fretfully at the cannon as he walked toward his cabin.
"Queer man," Nathan muttered.
Calloway sighed. "He woke up out of sorts this morning. I suppose I must attend to him, if you take my meaning." She favored Nathan with a little smile before adjusting her hat and starting after Dillahunt. She cleared her throat and stiffened her poise, and she was all boy again. As always, none of the other men seemed to know she existed.
Nathan returned his attention to the sea. Only one dolphin remained, leaping out of the water with that perpetual grin they all carried, oblivious to its absent kin. Nathan couldn't spot any other dolphins in the water, no matter how far he looked. He prayed this one wouldn't be permanently separated from the group, forever indemnifying a moment of glee.
KATE
The ship was an indistinct blur beneath the surface, resting in a relatively shallow grave just off the eastern beach. Kate peered over the edge as Dumaka and Andrew Harrow rowed the little boat around a charred mainmast, which was the only part of the ship that remained above water. If not for the mast, they might have mistaken the sunken ship for the carcass of some great whale that had come here to die.
"Cunningham's ship?" Hornigold asked Kate. "Abettor?"
"Yes," she replied gravely.
"I met the man only once," he said. "I liked him instantly. He was a true pirate, but he abstained from murder."
"The same can't be said for Griffith," Kate replied. "When Cunningham figured out who I was, Griffith killed him."
"And everyone aboard?"
She nodded. "Collateral."
The island was greener and larger than Kate remembered, with a dense jungle circumventing a treacherously steep grey summit that must have been volcanic. The peak was surrounded by haze. It had only been a few hours since dawn, and a morning fog was rolling down the mountainside, collecting in the many nooks and outcroppings. The jungle wrapped around the base of the mountain in a thick ring, sloping down to the beach. The trees were tall and dense, with only a few openings large enough for a person to stroll through. Dread crept into the pit of Kate's stomach as she stared into the largest opening just beyond the eastern beach. Jack Cunningham went in there willingly, and he never came out.
Just then, something skittered in the darkness. Kate tightened her grip on the rail of the boat, fingernails digging into the wood. She glimpsed a splash of color, a flutter of crimson. Her heart thumped in her chest, and the hairs prickled along the back of her neck. She seized Hornigold's wrist. "Do you see that?"
"See what?"
Another flash of red. Blood? What on earth was happening in there? "There!" she hissed, pointing.
Hornigold squinted. He opened his mouth to speak . . . and then froze. "What in the bloody hell is that?"
More flashes of red. Something was rustling within. And then a terrible shriek. It sounded like . . .
A parrot burst from the opening, wings brushing against leaves as it escaped some unseen predator in a panic. It squawked frantically, ascending above the tree line, and then arcing back toward the mountain. It disappeared into one of the crevices far above.
Kate released Hornigold's arm. He massaged his wrist where her fingernails had left pink gouges. "Sorry," she said.
"It's fine," he said, clearing his throat.
It was not long before the boat's keel slid onto the white beach. Dumaka, Harrow, and Hornigold leapt out quickly, feet splashing in the water. Hornigold offered Kate his hand. She was reluctant to get off, despite the sun already beating down on her back from its low position on the eastern horizon. It was going to be a hot day, and the shade would be a welcome respite, but that would mean taking shelter near the jungle. There were a few coconut trees scattered randomly about, but their shadows wavered in the breeze, and they were not closely packed enough to offer much of a canopy.
Hornigold stared at her, his hand hanging in the air, palm facing up. "Something wrong?"
"No," Kate replied. She took his hand and crossed her legs over the rail, sinking her bare feet into the soft sand. A little wave splashed the back of her legs, and she wobbled slightly. Hornigold's grip tightened. Kate felt his other hand on the small of her back, steadying her. She jerked away. "I can walk, thank you."
Frustration flashed across his face, but he quickly blinked it away. He looked to Dumaka, who he had appointed quartermaster shortly after the death of Reed, without the consent of the crew. "We'll set up camp here and send several two-to-three man groups into the jungle. According to Mrs. Lindsay, there are thirteen chests. She doesn't know the exact location of each chest, but this island is only so large. A thorough search and keen eyes will yield our fortune. It will probably take us a week or more, but we are well rationed and Governor Rogers has no idea where we've gone."
Kate swallowed. She thought of Nathan Adams, the young pirate who had called her friend, yet wasted little time in attempting to turn her in for the reward her husband's family had offered. Nathan was surely dead by now, but there was a slim chance Rogers had thought to interrogate him about Kate after she had corrupted his precious Benjamin Hornigold. Even if Rogers was as smart as everyone claimed, she doubted Nathan knew how to get back to this island. Griffith kept the charts in his cabin.
She smirked at the silly thought, pushing it aside.
Dumaka took the boat back to Ranger, which was moored in the distance. Another boat passed him on its way to the beach, carrying more crew. The two boats ferried back and forth until half of the crew had been transported to the island.
Kate strolled along the beach, warily skirting the jungle. She found a long green iguana and chased after it until it retreated into the trees, well out of her reach. Birds and bugs formed a symphonic ambience from within the jungle. She squinted, trying to discern details between two trees, but it was black as pitch in there. She took a few steps back, not wanting to put her rear to the trees for fear that something would leap out when she wasn't looking and drag her into the darkness, never to be seen again.
When she turned, she was shocked at how far she'd walked. Her footsteps trailed off in a long, fading bend. Hornigold and the others were far down the beach. If she'd walked any further, they would have been out of view entirely, beyond the curved perimeter of the trees. She started back, veering into the water so she could soak her hot heels.
By the time she got back, the pirates were already setting up camp. The sun was in the middle of the sky, searing the crown of her head. She bent down and splashed water into her hair. Bastion approached, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a black piece of cloth. "You need it more than me," he said, offering it to her. "For the head."
"You sure?" she said, squinting up at him.
"It look better on you anyway," he said.
A charmer, she thought. Naturally he'll want something in return. They always do. Knowing that didn't stop her from taking the bandana. She fastened it over the top of her head, tying a knot in the back, with her hair spilling out the sides. She made certain her mutilated ear remained concealed. "I must look quite the pirate," she quipped.
"I don't know what a pirate look like," Bastion shrugged. He awkwardly pivoted on his heels and shuffled off before she could ask him what he meant by that. Bastion was very shy, but Kate suspected there was much more going on beneath the surface. He would quite often sit and stare pensively at his peers, studying their every gesture. Kate tried to talk to him a few times, but the conversation always ended abruptly, as Bastion would suddenly seem to remember his duties and hurry off. She suspected he wasn't comfortable around women.
The pirates finished making camp by midafternoon. Kate helped Avery and Billie Dowling unpack several tents and hammocks. She exchanged a few words with Billie, while Avery silently scowled. She knew Avery didn't care for her and cared even less for her fraternizing with his younger brother. Billie was not the smartest lad in the Caribbean, and Avery was understandably protective of him. Kate respected Avery's position, but Billie was far too friendly to ignore.
When there was nothing more to do, Kate found a nice perch on a long rock formation that jutted over the tide. She leaned back and put her arms behind her head, casually bending one knee while stretching the other leg across the rock. A cool breeze caressed her as the sun drew nearer the horizon. The sapphire sky gradually gave to purple hues. Kate caught a few pirates stealing glances at her, but she didn't care. She fell asleep once or twice with no dreams to disturb her, just the gentle swish of the tide on either side of the long rock formation. She would tilt her head and watch the pirates from time to time.
Bastion and his newest friend, Keith, were gathering coconuts. Keith was a lanky, badly sunburned young man with stringy red hair and a maze of freckles. He wasted no time hacking a coconut in half with his rusty cutlass and slurping whatever juices hadn't been lost to the sand from his sloppy effort. Bastion was far more experienced, slicing a clean wedge in his coconut and allowing no juice to spill over the side.
Copernicus Ryan and Fat Farley were building a firepit with poles to support a skewer. A fat hog was tied up near them, rooting gleefully in the sand, oblivious to its impending doom. The hog was one of three which, according to Farley, they were saving for special occasions. Kate felt sorry for the beast, but her growling stomach was at odds with the sentiment.
Francois Laurent, Gabriel Elegy, and Jeremy Clemens went exploring, disappearing into the jungle. Laurent and Clemens took long rifles while Harrow and Elegy carried shovels, in case they stumbled upon one of the thirteen chests.
A hundred or so paces from Kate, Hornigold was sitting by himself in the sand, staring at Ranger. One arm rested atop a raised knee, while his other hand was twirling his mustache. His expression betrayed no emotion, good or bad.
Laurent, Elegy, and Clemens returned shortly after the sun had retreated beyond the horizon, and stars lightly speckled the sky. Laurent reported to Hornigold, but Kate couldn't hear them over the waves. Hornigold merely nodded, not taking his eyes off Ranger. Laurent lingered for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more, and then took his leave.
The hog squealed as Farley wrestled it into submission, securing his arm around its neck. Ryan slit the animal's throat, spilling its blood in the sand. The hog instantly collapsed beneath Farley's massive girth. They stuck a skewer through it, from mouth to rear, and hefted it over the firepit. Ryan's knees nearly buckled, his face turned bright red, and Bastion rushed over to help him lift. Farley prepared the fire. The flames kindled swiftly, bathing the beach in orange ambience. Soon the intoxicating aroma of roast hog filled Kate's nostrils, and her mouth watered as she watched the juices pop and sizzle, streaming down the sides of darkening meat.
Francois Laurent took a seat near the fire and started playing a French tune on a polished violin. More pirates drew near the fire. Harrow handed out a few bottles of rum, and it was not long before they were all singing drunkenly, making up whatever lyrics they thought went along with that tune.
Farley cut the first piece of meat, tasted it, nodded, and then stepped back as the pirates descended on the hog like vultures. Kate waited patiently, despite her rumbling stomach, and when they were all seated and happily gorging themselves, she leapt off her perch and approached the firepit. Farley offered her his cutlass, which she took with a grateful incline of her head. She cut off a huge chunk of meat from the hog's hindquarters, the blade slicing through the meat as if it were butter. She handed the cutlass back to Farley and plopped herself in the sand beside Bastion and Keith, who were seated near the water. She spared them with a brief smile before quickly sinking her teeth into the meat. The skin was crunchy and the meat tender, savory juices dribbling down her chin. She ate until she thought she might burst, and then she kept eating.
Bastion filled half a coconut to the brim with rum and handed it to her. Kate threw back her head, draining the coconut in a few gulps, and then fell into the sand. Her head settled into the tangles of her hair, thick curls grazing her cheeks. Her lips were wet with meat juices and rum and a hint of coconut. She had never felt so thoroughly satiated in all her life.
A large wave crashed over the beach, rolling so close that Bastion and Keith sprang to their feet in alarm. Kate shuddered when the water touched her heels, but she did not move. The two men looked at her, then each other, and then laughed and sat back down.
Countless stars seemed to swirl above her, with the waning moon holding steady. She raised her index finger and trailed patterns between the stars, fashioning a constellation that resembled a ship.
"What did you mean earlier?" she asked Bastion. "When you said you didn't know what a pirate looks like? And please don't run off before you tell me."
It was a long time before Bastion answered. "I see too many pirates," he said finally. "They look same as everybody else. The governor say pirates all bad men, but I see good men that are pirates, and I see bad men that are not pirates. Captain Benjamin, him was a pirate. Then the governor give him piece of paper saying him a good man. A piece of paper is the only difference? Now him a pirate again. Him a bad man now? Captain Benjamin rescue Dumaka from slaver ship. Them was bad men. Them do bad things to other men, things I wish to never see.
"Captain Benjamin not a bad man, him just want better things. Him not like Edward Teach. Teach do terrible things him have no reason to do. Captain Benjamin not like that. But the governor say them both pirates, them both bad men."
He looked down at her, his eyes wide and bright, despite the darkness. "Now I see a woman who want to be a pirate."
Normally such a slight would have put a fury in her, but she was feeling too good to muster anger over anything. "I never said that," she replied.
"But you are," Bastion said with a smile.
"You're mistaken," she said.
Bastion tilted his head in concession. "Like I say . . . I don't know what a pirate look like."
A roar of laughter went up behind them. The pirates were singing bombastically around the fire.
Keith tapped Bastion on the shoulder, and the two of them left to join their mates. Kate sat up, rubbing her suddenly heavy eyes. Rum always made her groggy. She shambled back up the beach, moving past Hornigold's tent, which was much larger than the others. It looked quite inviting, and he undoubtedly had many furs to curl up in.
She found an empty hammock on the border of the jungle and climbed in. It was closer to the jungle than she would have liked, but the alternatives were sleeping in the sand or sleeping with Hornigold. She fell into the hammock and closed her eyes as it swayed right and left, gently rocking her towards sleep.
Something gripped her arm. She woke with a gasp. Hornigold was stari
ng down at her, eyes gleaming furiously in the night. He yanked her out of the hammock. She landed awkwardly on her feet, twisting an ankle.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're—" she started.
"I'm going into that jungle to find one of the chests," he said, slurring every word. "You're coming with me."
She bent down to massage her ankle. "You're drunk."
"Everyone's drunk."
"I'm not going in there in the dark."
He seized her wrist and lifted her up forcefully. "You'll go where I say you'll go."
She tore free of his grip. "I am not yours to command."
"Listen to me," he hissed, breath hot and stinking of rum. "Harrow found no trace of anything in that jungle."
"He was in there all of two hours," Kate scoffed. "Hardly time enough for a thorough search."
"I need to know something's in there," Hornigold insisted. "You've dragged me halfway across the Caribbean. I would have ratification."
"I dragged you?" she laughed. "I thought you controlled your own actions?"
His hand ascended swiftly, thumb and forefinger worrying away at his mustache. "A poor choice of words, influenced by heavy spirits."
Her husband once told her, "Spirits give voice to a man's soul." She considered reciting the sentiment to Hornigold but thought better of it. "Can't this wait till morning?"
"It cannot," he said, pacing in the sand. "I will find no rest until I have confirmation of at least one chest."
"This is absurd."
"Do not leave," Hornigold instructed, pointing at her face. "I will fashion a torch."
She spread her arms and said, "Where would I go, Benjamin?"
She waited, leaning against one of the trees her hammock was tied to. She closed her eyes and nearly fell asleep upright, but she was jarred into consciousness when Hornigold came running up with a burning torch. He handed her a shovel and gestured to the nearest opening in the trees. "Let us waste no time."
She stared at him. "You know, most men simply pass out when drunk."
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