“They were rescued,” Demyan replied. “That's why the other ship attacked, to rescue us.”
“Some of us,” Lilia added, watching the rain out the window.
“Is that what all the commotion was?” Yeremiy asked. “I suppose I was a bit preoccupied, having a bullet removed from my kneecap.”
“Did you fix that up yourself?” Zoya asked him.
“No,” Yeremiy replied, glancing down at his wounded leg. “Apparently there's a quite good doctor on this pirate ship. They probably kidnapped him too.”
“Not everyone is on a pirate ship because they've been kidnapped,” Lilia said. She held Pavel's charm in her hand, playing idly with its chain.
“No,” Yeremiy agreed. “Some people are just immoral.” Lilia took a step toward Yeremiy, but stopped as Zoya grabbed her wrist. Zoya pulled her back, mouthing the word no. Gotfrid chuckled from where he stood.
“So, what's your plan?” Zoya asked after an awkward silence. “Are you just going to sit here until the pirates get frustrated and kill you?”
“If that's how it has to be,” Yeremiy replied. “As I said when you walked in, I am either returned home or killed. I will not lead these pirates to Mirgorod, or anywhere else.”
“We told you, navigator,” Gotfrid said, “we can find Mirgorod. The problem is that we’d be arrested as soon as we entered its port. If you don’t find a covert way into the city, you’ll be arrested as well.”
Yeremiy folded his arms.
“Do it for us,” Demyan said. He walked over to the desk and sat on its edge. “We're not pirates. We're captives just like you. We were on our way to Mirgorod when we were kidnapped.”
“I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm afraid that's not my problem. Mirgorod is thousands of miles away from my home. I'm not going to travel that far, against my will, just because some kids had some rotten luck.”
“Now who's immoral?” Lilia asked. She walked toward him, standing next to Demyan. “You're just selfish and a coward. We just lost a friend who was ten times the man you are. And he was a pirate. So get off your high horse and stop ignoring reality. You're on this pirate ship whether you like it or not. So, you can waste your time, waste your life, and wither and die in here. Or, you can do something good. You can do something useful. Help us.” Lilia’s friends all exchanged surprised glances. Yeremiy was stunned silent.
“Our best chance of surviving this,” Zoya said after a moment, “is if we work together. We need to help each other. If you help us get to Mirgorod, we'll escape this ship, and we'll help you get back home.”
“That's really your only way,” Demyan said. Yeremiy leaned back, wincing as he moved his injured leg. He cast his eyes briefly toward Gotfrid then let out a sigh.
“Fine,” he said. He looked at the three friends. “You make a good point. But I will hold you to your word.”
“We keep our word,” Zoya told him. “We'll make sure you get back home, somehow.”
“Somehow,” Yeremiy replied. He looked once again toward Gotfrid, who was smiling back at him. Yeremiy clenched and unclenched his fists. “Right.”
Snezhana stood at her desk in her cabin, a cup of rum in her hand. It shook in her hand. She took a deep breath then took a sip.
“Captain,” Gotfrid said as he entered the room. “The navigator has decided to cooperate.” Snezhana smiled at him and took another sip.
“Excellent,” she said. “That was good thinking on your part.” Gotfrid stared at Snezhana for a moment then gazed out the window. Lightning streaked across the sky, briefly illuminating the ocean speckled by heavy rain.
“It was a shot in the dark. I'm happy you trusted me enough to try, Captain.” he said.
“Some people are moved more by compassion than by threats,” Snezhana said. “With all his self-righteous accusations and whining about his fiancée, I thought I might give compassion a try.”
“It hardly seems to be your usual style,” Gotfrid said.
“My usual style almost got me killed in Lodninsk,” she replied. “I've told you that story. Sometimes you need to try something different.”
“Very good, Captain.”
“Go,” Snezhana said. “Get a heading from our newly-cooperative navigator. Time is of the essence.”
Gotfrid nodded and left the room.
Snezhana put her cup on the desk and sighed contentedly. She reached for the wireless telegraph perched in the corner and turned the dial. At first, the only sounds were crackling and fizzing.
Damn this storm. Just as she was about to turn the volume back down, a series of beeps came through. Snezhana scribbled dots and dashes onto a piece of parchment and decoded them.
Three major battles between Morozhia and Starzapad. Morozhia claimed victory in two battles but lost more soldiers. Will Vernulaia join the war?
Snezhana growled in spite of herself. That was the last thing she needed.
“Don't worry, Boris,” she said. “I'm on my way.”
Snezhana turned the device off, stood, and walked out of her cabin into the pouring rain. She trudged below deck where Adam scrubbed vigorously at the floor.
“Am I dismissed, Captain?” he asked shyly. Snezhana tilted her head then poured her rum onto the floor next to him.
“You missed a spot,” she said. The man resumed scrubbing, shaking his head.
“Captain, forgive me,” he said. “I know the one with purple hair is special, but—“
“We need her alive, and we need her to cooperate,” Snezhana said. “If you hurt her friends, she won’t cooperate. And she seems rash. She’d probably do something stupid that would get her killed.”
Snezhana kicked Adam in the gut. He collapsed on the ground and gasped.
“I do not tolerate insubordination. I will blame this incident on your pure ignorance. Do not disappoint me again.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning Anya lay in her hammock, hugging her coat. She kept it on, with the gadget tucked within, even though it was far too warm for such a heavy coat. They had to be pretty far south now, and Anya wondered how far they were from Mirgorod.
She hadn't noticed when Nikolai got up to get breakfast, but as she lay there, Nikolai rushed in.
“Why aren't we chasing them anymore?” he demanded, out of breath. Anya didn't respond.
“Anya,” Nikolai pressed. “The captain stopped the chase. We're slowing down. Snezhana is getting away!”
“I know,” Anya replied softly. She looked up and out of the doorway, checking that no one was nearby. Then she looked at Nikolai.
“He thinks Alexi has the gadget,” Anya whispered.
“Why would he—” Nikolai started, sitting on his cot. “So he just—”
“He doesn't care about us,” Anya said. “He doesn't care about our friends. He just wants the gadget.”
“When did Alexi even get the gadget?” Nikolai asked. “Why would Zoya give it to him?”
“She didn't,” Anya replied. “He lied. He doesn't have it.” Nikolai punched one of the crates in the room.
“I knew it! I knew he was working with his aunt! Now she has Zoya and the gadget, and they're getting away!”
Nikolai rose to his feet and stomped out of the cabin, heading above deck.
“Nikolai!” Anya stood. “Where are you going?” She glanced around the room, removing her coat and bundling it into a ball. She lifted the lid of one of the crates and buried the coat inside. Then she followed Nikolai to the main deck.
When she got there, she saw Edmund with his hands wrapped around Alexi's throat, shoving him into the smokestack.
“You treacherous brat!” he snarled. Alexi's face turned bright red. His hands clawed at his father's.
Edmund threw his son to the rain-drenched deck. Alexi inhaled with a loud, raspy breath as his face began to return to its normal color. He stayed down, coughing, staring only at the wood beneath him.
“Crew!” Edmund announced. “Alexi is not to eat a single piece of food
nor drink a drop of ale or anything else until I give further notice!” He used his foot to turn Alexi over on to his back then pressed into Alexi's chest with his heel.
“If any one of you tries to sneak him a morsel,” Edmund continued, “I'll dump you into the ocean!”
Edmund stormed into the pilot house, slamming the door behind him.
“That's what he gets for lying,” Nikolai muttered as he began to head below deck. Anya grabbed him by the arm.
“I'm getting really sick of this attitude,” she said. “Alexi is on our side. What does he have to do to prove that?” Nikolai ripped his arm out of her grip.
“Get your head out of the clouds, Anya,” he spat. “I don't know why you've grown so fond of him, but he's using you.” In a huff, Nikolai continued below deck.
The Ocean's Legend had turned around, and the crew brought her back up to full speed to resume their pursuit of the Hell's Jewel. Nikolai and Anya, in Pavel's absence, prepared breakfast. They ate their meals in silence, each overcome by how much, and yet how little, they wanted to say. After they finished cleaning up the saloon, Nikolai went to help in the boiler room.
The monotonous work of shoveling coal into the furnace helped to keep Nikolai calm. Scoop and toss. Scoop and toss. Scoop and toss. He lost track of time and became lost in the repetitive motion. Eventually, Tonia clapped him on the shoulder and told him his shift was over. He nodded, breathing heavily, his lungs raw from soot. Then he left the boiler room.
He sat alone in the cabin, lying on the cot and staring at the ceiling. Briefly, he pondered where Anya was. In frustration, he pushed the thought from his mind. His stomach growled.
Nikolai sat up. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and the sun was already setting. Did the crew already have dinner? Had he missed it? Or had dinner not happened yet? He climbed the stairs to the saloon.
When he got there, the room was empty. Nikolai searched through the cabinets and cupboards. They were filled with new, yet still stale, loaves of bread and salted meats.
At least in Lodninsk we had eggs and potatoes.
As Nikolai was about to close one cupboard, he noticed another door within it. Pushing aside a few packages of meat, he opened the door and gasped. Hidden in the secret space were lemons and limes, rice, rum, and seasoned jerky. Nikolai glanced around the room and, after seeing that no one was around, grabbed a lime. It had been too long since he'd had any fruit. Lodninsk usually received only one shipment of fruit in the entire year, and most citizens' rations did not include any of it. It was generally brought to the heads of government and, if there was enough, to the high-ranking military officers. Every once in a while, a handful of fruit would be delivered to the orphanage as a display of the government's charity and empathy.
Nikolai grabbed a knife and cut the lime into quarters. With a satisfied sigh, he sank down the floor, sucking on the tart morsels. After he finished, he grabbed another one, as well as some jerky.
“What are you doing?” Startled, Nikolai turned to see Alexi standing behind him with crossed arms.
“I was hungry,” Nikolai said.
“That's the captain's food,” Alexi said. “And this isn't the best time to make him mad.” Nikolai felt his face flush.
“I didn't know!” he said. “Why should the captain get all this good food, when we're stuck with stale, bland crap?”
“Because he's the captain,” Alexi replied.
“What's going on?” Edmund's voice boomed. “Alexi, didn't I make myself clear?” When he saw Nikolai, his face turned bright red. “Are you sneaking food to Alexi? My food, no less?” Nikolai was stunned speechless, staring desperately between Alexi and Edmund. He dropped the knife and food.
“No,” Alexi said, turning to face his father. “He wasn't stealing the food, he was putting it back. I stole it.” Edmund grabbed Alexi's shirt collar and thrust him into the nearest table.
“Do you have a death wish, boy? I told you you're not to eat until I say so!”
“It was a moment of weakness, Captain,” Alexi said. “I was angry and hungry. It won't happen again.”
“You're damn right it won't,” Edmund said. He grabbed his son by the hair and pulled him close. “I have a mind to maroon you, boy. You better hope my anger subsides by the time we take back—” Edmund stopped, glancing at Nikolai.
“By the time we rescue my crew,” he finished. He slammed Alexi's head into the table, then walked out of the saloon.
Alexi stood still at the table for a moment, hunched over and breathing heavily. Nikolai stared at him, eyes wide.
“Why did you lie?” he asked.
Alexi pulled out a chair and sat, holding his head in his hands. “Because he would have killed you.”
“He didn't kill you,” Nikolai said.
Alexi gave a forced laugh. “He will have me whipped. He will deny me food. He will overwork me, beat me. But he won't kill me. I'm his son.”
Nikolai thought for a moment. “If I were allowed to I'd pour you a tall glass of ale right now.” Alexi chuckled. Nikolai smiled slightly then nodded and returned to his cabin.
When Nikolai trudged into the cabin, Anya lay on her hammock, mending a hole in one of her shirts.
“What did you do?” Nikolai asked. “Did that happen when you were up in the rigging?” Anya didn't respond and kept sewing her shirt. Nikolai sat down on his cot and stared at her.
“What, you're not talking to me?” he asked.
“I don't have anything to say,” Anya replied. Nikolai groaned and leaned back on the cot.
“Don't make me say it,” he whined.
Anya stopped her sewing and looked up. “Say what?”
Nikolai lay down on the cot and stared up at the ceiling. “You were right.”
Anya smirked. “About what? You'll have to narrow it down.”
Nikolai let out a sputtered laugh. Then he turned to face Anya.
“You were right about Alexi. I think, anyway. He's either on our side or he's crazy.”
Anya put down her sewing project. “What made you change your mind?”
Nikolai grimaced. “I, sort of, maybe, inadvertently stole some of the captain's private stash of food.”
Anya looked at Nikolai with a deadpan expression.
“You did what?”
“I didn't know!” Nikolai said. “It wasn't labeled! It was sort of hidden, I guess…” Anya sighed and shook her head.
“So, what,” Anya said. “Alexi saw you and didn't tell on you?” Nikolai bit his lip.
“That's sort of what happened,” he said. “Not all of what happened.” Anya stared silently at Nikolai, waiting for him to explain.
“Alexi caught me, and then a second later, the captain walked in,” Nikolai said. “And Alexi took the blame. He said I was putting the food back, that he was the one who stole it.” Anya punched Nikolai in the arm.
“Ow!” he yelped. Anya punched him again then started smacking him frantically.
“Why would you do that?” she demanded.
Nikolai stood and backed away, shielding himself with his arms. “Stop! Stop! What was I supposed to do?”
“What's the captain going to do to him now?” Anya asked, sitting back onto her hammock.
“Nothing, I guess,” Nikolai replied. “Nothing more anyway. For now.” Anya groaned and hung her head in her hands.
“Where is he?” she asked after a moment.
“He was still in the saloon when I left,” Nikolai replied. Without another word, Anya ran above deck.
Sure enough, when Anya entered the saloon, Alexi was still there. He was slumped over with his head resting on the table, staring out the windows.
“Nikolai told me what you did,” she said softly, pulling up a chair next to Alexi. “Thank you.” Alexi sat up slowly and looked at her.
“I couldn't stand by and watch your friend get beaten or thrown into the sea,” he said.
“Well, you've won him over,” Anya said with a weak smile. Her smile quickly fad
ed as she asked, “Are you going to be ok?” Alexi nodded.
“Once we get Zoya, Demyan, and Lilia back, he'll calm down,” he replied.
“Because of the gadget.”
Alexi's eyes glanced around the room before fixing on Anya's. “Which is not currently on this ship,” he said.
Anya leaned back, staring out of the window. “But if having it on this ship would calm him down—”
“Absolutely not.” He leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. “He will abandon your friends. Do not give him what he wants; it only makes him more dangerous.”
Anya tilted her head. “So what's your plan?” she asked. “We're going to rescue them. Isn't that giving him what he wants, too?”
“That's what he thinks,” Alexi replied. He clenched his fists. Anya gently placed her hands over his.
“There's a plan,” he said. “I can't say more than that. Just know there's a plan.”
“Ok.” Anya sighed.
“Anyway,” Alexi said after a moment. “I'm going to go relieve Oleg of his duties in the pilot house.”
“I'll come with you,” Anya said. “You need the company.”
Alexi laughed. “Alright, I won't argue.”
Lilia and Demyan had fallen asleep in the pilot house, propped against the wall as they sat on the floor. Demyan's head dropped to the side, resting on Zoya's shoulder. Zoya leaned her head on his, her gaze transfixed on the rear window. She eyed the lights of the Ocean's Legend, which was still visible through the sheets of rain. In the darkness, she couldn't discern if it was getting farther away or closer. Igor had relieved Gotfrid from the wheel, and Yeremiy was busy scribbling on a piece of parchment.
“Hello,” Pyotr said cheerily as he entered with a metal tray. He paused once he entered, wiping away his polite smile and replacing it with an intentional frown.
“Captain wants you to eat,” he said flatly. Zoya woke her friends, and the three of them rushed over to Pyotr. The food was the usual: stale bread and salted meat. But they were so hungry it tasted like a feast.
Pyotr placed a plate next to Yeremiy. The navigator hardly acknowledged it, other than to move it out of his way as he wrote.
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