by Heidi Schulz
The girl returned to find that her prior display of leadership had been a poor influence on the crew. Inspired by their captain’s outburst, contention had spread. Blind Bart clung to the stump of the ship’s broken mast, mumbling a blistering castigation of anyone and everyone, and most particularly the sea itself. Dirty Bob cursed him right back, not bothering to hold back his contempt regarding a pirate afraid of the sea. Jim McCraig and his parrot were loudly bickering (at least it sounded like bickering), and One-Armed Jack and Nubbins were engaged in a tussle of their own.
Jocelyn arrived just in time to see Jack take a swing at Nubbins with yet another prosthetic: a wooden-handled egg beater attached to the stump of his arm.
Nubbins sidestepped him. “How dare you try to beat me with me own whisk? I said give it back!”
“And I said it isn’t yours! It belongs to me!” Jack cried.
“Well, where did you get it?”
“I found it bobbling along in the sea.” He made a motion with the whisk, mimicking the way it had floated on the waves.
“Yeah. It were there after you dumped it overboard! Give it back!” Nubbins reached out as if to grab it.
“You can’t just go taking a man’s arm!” Jack waved it menacingly.
“You can’t go taking a man’s whisk!”
It was well past time Jocelyn took things in hand (no pun intended).
“Men!” the girl bellowed. “Stop that this instant! All of you!” She glared at each person in turn. When she looked at Roger and Evie, sitting quietly together apart from the others, she felt both a stab of jealousy and a prickle of guilt, but she stuffed them both down and doled out commands.
“Nubbins, you have no need of a whisk at the moment. Jack does need an arm, unsuitable as it may be—”
“Yeah!” Jack said.
“Quiet, you dog,” she growled. “I’m not finished. Once we get back to land, Jack will find something else and return your whisk to you.”
“How do you propose we get back, Captain?” Blind Bart asked.
That was the question, wasn’t it?
There would be no swimming back to the island. They were miles away at sea, with man-eating sharks, giant cephalopods, cruel mermaids, and who knew what else between them and the main island. And not a one of them could fly. All the fairy dust Jocelyn had been wearing had washed away, and there would be no more with Meriwether a captive of Krueger.
Jocelyn’s shoulder felt empty without the little fairy there, ringing in her ear. She hoped the toxin he had been sprayed with had no lasting effects and that the bottle that held him had enough air. She gripped her hands into fists. She was determined to rescue Meriwether—somehow. And while she was at it, she’d reclaim her ship and her treasure map. That map had been left to her by Captain Hook, the greatest pirate of all time. Krueger didn’t deserve to have it simply because he had been able to take it.
Krueger might be stronger. He might have a fierce crew and a fast ship. He might even be a better pirate. But he had no claim on her father’s treasure. Jocelyn would find him and take back what was hers. She would find a way to make him pay.
But first, they had to get back to land.
“We will have to salvage what we can from this wreck and build a raft. Jim McCraig, take One-Armed Jack and see what tools you can find: rope that hasn’t rotted through, mallets, nails, and bolts. Nubbins, you go see if there is any salvageable food in the galley. The rest of you”—she found she couldn’t quite look at Evie and Roger, so she made a rather broad gesture taking them in—“start pulling up planking. We’ll get as much done as we can before dark and finish up in the morning.”
Jocelyn, being young and inexperienced, didn’t know what a gift she had given the crew. In the absence of hope, work is a fitting stand-in. Keeps the despondencies away. In the absence of both hope and work, torture will do. At least, it always cheers me right up. But I digress.
While everyone else scurried off to follow her orders, Jocelyn sat to plan. It wasn’t enough for them to simply get back to the main island. She had to think about what would happen after that. She hadn’t made much headway, however, when Roger returned alone with an armful of planks.
He began to pile them carefully on the deck. “I got these from the driest place I could find below, but they are still rather rotten,” he said without looking at her. “I’m not sure a raft made from them would hold us. I thought in the morning I’d swim out to some of the other wrecks to see if I can get any better.”
That Roger always was an optimistic one, but the fact of the matter was, he would be unlikely to fare better elsewhere. They were lucky to have found refuge where they did. Though the wreck was fully unable to sail due to a large breach in the hull, it had settled on the reef in such a way that most of it was above water. The craft was a far cry from cozy, but at least it offered some measure of security out in the middle of the lonely sea.
Jocelyn felt it best not to discourage Roger so soon after their fight. Instead she asked, “Where’s Evie?”
“She’s with Jim McCraig and the parrot, searching the hold.”
Jocelyn cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.”
Roger turned and faced her, wearing his just-for-Jocelyn grin. “I know. And I’m sorry for trying to tell you what to do. I know none of this is easy, but you’ll figure things out. Let’s not argue anymore, all right, Captain?”
Jocelyn smiled back. “Deal. It’s too awful when we are cross with each other.”
She spit on her hand and held it out, ready to make it official, but Roger pushed her hand aside and threw his arms around her in a hug. It felt as warm as coming in out of the rain.
“Deal,” he said, squeezing her tight.
Over his shoulder Jocelyn saw Evie climb up from the lower deck, carrying a burlap bag and wearing an enormous straw bonnet. The hat was dripping in ribbons and decorated with an ostrich plume dyed a deep vermilion. Jocelyn quickly pulled back from Roger, sure her face must have been as red as the feather.
“Well, well, well. Don’t let me interrupt you two.” Evie laughed.
Jocelyn and Roger spoke at the same time.
“We weren’t—”
“It’s not—”
“Not to worry! I know an innocent, friendly embrace when I see one.” She pushed the bonnet back on her forehead. The brim must have stuck out at least a foot on all sides from her head. It was a wonder she fit through the hatch. “Not that I could see all that much wearing this.”
Making up with Roger had helped Jocelyn want to make things right with Evie, too, but she didn’t quite know how. She still thought that Evie’s dive into the sea had been foolish and dangerous. She would not apologize for that.
Jocelyn settled on changing the subject. “I like your hat,” she said.
Evie flashed her dimples and dumped her bundle at Jocelyn’s feet. “I was hoping you would feel that way about my hat,” she said, excitedly pulling something from the bag, “because I found some for you two in a trunk below. They aren’t likely to be very helpful to our current predicament, and they smell rather mildewed, but I couldn’t pass them up.”
She handed a white, curly wig and tricorn cap to Roger. “Now you can look like an aristocrat,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
When he placed them on his head, a cloud of wig powder billowed up, making him sneeze. “Just what I always wanted,” the boy said with a slight bow.
“And for you, Jocelyn. I knew this was yours as soon as I saw it.” She passed Jocelyn what was surely the most amazing and detailed hat ever created. It was modeled after a frigate, the high brim serving as the sides of the ship and the crown covered with masts and rigging. The ship hat was perfectly detailed right down to the last cannon.
Jocelyn couldn’t help wondering who might have worn such a wonderful, ridiculous thing, but when she saw the ship’s name, La Belle Poule, embroidered neatly at the aft, she shook her head at her own ignorance. Who else could it have been but the French?
As they walked off together in search of the crew, one of the other vessels in the ships’ graveyard caught Jocelyn’s eye. It had been massive, at least a twenty-gunner. If only she had a ship like that—larger and better suited for battle than either the Hook’s Revenge or Calypso’s Nightmare—she would have a more than fighting chance of besting Krueger and taking back what was rightfully hers.
Now, more than ever, Jocelyn needed the Jolly Roger.
Everyone’s spirits were much improved that night. Roger built a merry fire in a large brass kettle dragged to the upper deck from the galley. Also in the galley, Nubbins discovered a dry cask of beans, a few spices, and some hardtack, which he managed to turn into a wonderful meal.
Once everyone had eaten, they danced under the moonlight to the sounds of both song and an orchestra provided by the aftereffects of their meal. Jocelyn stuffed her worries down deep inside, for she hoped if she looked unconcerned, her men would feel likewise. It seemed to work. After the dancing ended, the crew found places to curl up on the deck, wrapped in pieces of old sail. One by one, they drifted into untroubled sleep.
Jocelyn laid her hat aside and took first watch. She sat alone at the edge of the wreck, feet hanging between the bars of the railing. The full moon made a shining path on the water, like a road. How she wished they could all just climb on and follow it back to land.
Evie joined her, dangling her bare feet next to her. A nearby splash made the older girl pull them back. “Do you suppose that was a shark? And if so, how high can they jump?” she asked.
“I don’t think they can jump this high,” Jocelyn replied. “And that splash is more likely to have been a mermaid.”
“A mermaid…” Evie practically sighed the word. “How I would love to meet one.”
Jocelyn wrinkled her nose. “They are not as impressive as you might think. When I encountered some, they suggested I drown myself. Beastly things.”
Evie dangled her feet over the side again. “I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but you are so lucky.”
Jocelyn cracked a smile. “I know.”
Both girls giggled, and Jocelyn felt the last of their earlier tension ebb away.
“I’m sorry we fought,” Evie said.
“So am I,” Jocelyn replied.
There didn’t seem a need to say more about it. Out of habit, Jocelyn reached up and fingered her necklace. Moonlight glinted off the jeweled sea serpent embedded in the pendant’s face, catching Evie’s eye.
“Your locket is lovely. Is there a portrait inside?”
Jocelyn closed her fingers around it, protectively, but then loosened them. She and Evie were having such a nice time together, Jocelyn didn’t want to spoil it. Besides, what harm could it do? It wasn’t as if Evie could possibly know what her future husband would look like. “It’s my father,” she said, flipping the locket open.
Evie leaned in for a closer look, then gasped and drew back. “It’s…oh, it’s so strange.”
Jocelyn frowned. “What is?”
“That painting. It looks familiar.”
A shiver ran up Jocelyn’s spine. Had the other girl somehow divined her future in Hook’s face? “You recognize him?” she asked.
“Oh no,” Evie said, “It’s the portrait itself. It’s exactly like I would have painted it. I feel as though I have seen a letter I didn’t write, somehow penned in my own hand.”
Jocelyn’s heart thumped. For one crazy moment she considered telling Evie everything, but she simply couldn’t. What if Evie learned Jocelyn would be her daughter and she felt nothing more than disappointment?
Instead Jocelyn blurted the first thing that came into her head. “Why did you ever agree to fly off with that irritating Pan?”
Evie laughed. “He is quite full of himself, isn’t he?”
“To say the least!” Jocelyn agreed.
“But truly, he’s not so terrible. He can be rather amusing, once you get past all that ‘Oh, how clever am I’ business. Flying away with him offered me things I’d never get at home: excitement, adventure, the chance to forget my old life and do something entirely new. And look what else it got me—a new best friend.”
She smiled at Jocelyn, moonlight shining in her eyes. Jocelyn smiled back, but she felt worried. What if Evie forgot her old life entirely? The harbormaster had said that those who forgot their home—who became untethered—were miserable.
Oh, what was she to do about Evie?
Roger interrupted her thoughts. He tiptoed carefully over the sleeping pirates, trying not to wake anyone, and joined them. “What are you two whispering about over here?”
Evie giggled. “Girlish things—right, Jocelyn? You wouldn’t understand.”
Jocelyn grinned. “Right.”
“Oh, well then. In that case, you can educate me.” He stretched out on the deck behind them. “What kinds of things do girls talk about when boys aren’t around to hear?”
“The usual,” Jocelyn replied. “How to get bloodstains out of party dresses.”
Evie nodded solemnly. “Whether a sword or a dagger is better suited for our delicate hands.”
“Oh yes,” Jocelyn said. “And what number of kills will best impress a future suitor.”
“I think no fewer than twenty,” Evie said, “but Jocelyn believes that if the girl is also a good dancer, she might get away with as little as eighteen. What do you think, Roger? It would be nice to get a male perspective.”
He flashed a moonlit grin. “I think you two are certifiably insane. It’s one of my favorite things about you both.”
Though she wasn’t sure she liked having to share a favorite thing with Evie, Jocelyn had to admit that it was fun to spend time with another girl. Evie was unlike anyone she had ever met.
The three sat in companionable silence under the starry sky.
Evie drummed her feet along the side of the ship. “I don’t know what it’s like where you are from, but where I live, at the ever-so-prim-and-proper”—she spoke in an overly formal, mocking voice—“Miss Eliza Crumb-Biddlecomb’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, no one else would appreciate this. The girls would be too worried about not looking ladylike enough, and Miss Eliza, she would be livid at the conditions.”
“I didn’t know you went to school there!” Jocelyn cried in surprise.
“Do you know my school?” Evie asked.
Jocelyn scrambled to recover from her gaffe. “No. I mean, I assumed someone like you wouldn’t need finishing school.”
Evie laughed. “You must be joking! My father despairs of ever turning me into a lady. That’s where Miss Eliza comes in.” Evie motioned to the snoring heap of pirates. “She would say, ‘No matter the circumstances, a young lady should never engage in conversation with ruffians. No—’”
“Exceptions!” Jocelyn finished for her, laughing.
Evie gave her a bemused look. “Yes. But how could you know she would say that?”
“Oh. Well. I…” She looked to Roger for help.
“That sounds like just the sort of thing any stuffy old headmistress would say, doesn’t it, Jocelyn?”
“Quite.”
Evie stared at Jocelyn as if the younger girl were a puzzle she couldn’t quite work out.
“What about other things from home?” Jocelyn ventured. “I know school was awful, but there has to be something you miss.”
“I miss my father. I admit that, freely. When we sang his lullaby together, I missed him so much I could hardly stand it, but that was because even then I think I knew that I would not be going back. His plans for me…they’re not what I want.” Below their feet, a school of glowing fish passed by, lighting up the water. “This. This is what I wa
nt. Adventure. Beauty. Surprise. I think I’ll stay.”
Roger raised an eyebrow at Jocelyn. She knew what he thought she should do, but even though she had been tempted a few moments before, the girl simply couldn’t bring herself to tell Evie everything. There had to be another way.
“Besides,” Evie continued, “my life at home seems so far away now, as if it were nothing but a dream, and the longer I’m awake, the less sharp it becomes. I have a feeling I won’t miss it too badly, for I may forget it altogether.”
Jocelyn was about to respond, to urge the girl to hold tight to her memories of home, but something on the sea caught her attention and stole her thoughts away.
Sailing directly up the middle of the shining path the moon cut through the water was a ship, but not just any ship. Jocelyn pulled her spyglass from its pouch to get a better look. The vessel appeared to be made entirely of moonbeams and air—and it was sailing straight at them.
Jocelyn roused the crew, unsure if the strange ship might prove to be a threat. They all stood in a line at the railing, weapons out, watching the glowing vessel come ever nearer on the reflected trail of moonlight. Even as it grew closer, it remained somewhat insubstantial—all the correct details were in place, rigging and masts, lines and portholes, but they flickered and shimmered under Jocelyn’s gaze.
The girl felt her own flicker—one of apprehension in her stomach. Was this a ghost ship? Perhaps that dreadful Flying Dutchman she had heard Dirty Bob talk about? Jocelyn gripped her sword tightly in her hand, attempting to draw comfort from its weight, though she knew it would be of little use against spirits intending them harm.
At last the ship reached them, angling a bit so as to avoid hitting the ruined craft with its bowsprit. Its shining hull tapped the side of their wreck with a surprising little bump. Jocelyn had rather expected it to pass right through them. The ship certainly had more substance than it appeared to.
That can be true of people, as well, though not, I’m sure, in your case.