Tides of Mutiny

by Rebecca Rode

  “Go,” Father hissed, looking crazed with his windblown hair. “This instant, Lane. I’ll deal with you later.”

  My body was too numb for anger as I descended the steps. The men made way for me, and I plunged into the crowd, fighting the flush in my cheeks. Several pairs of eyes were on me, watching, evaluating. If they hadn’t already connected my position aloft to Errick’s death, Kemp’s accusations certainly would. I wanted to light into every one of the fools with fierce words and angry fists.

  Kemp positively shouted now, his voice carrying easily to the deck. “Young Barrie sits by instead of following orders, your boy disobeys to take his place, and the chicken lover ignores orders to save him. I expect you’ll be ordering a triple lashing before this is over. Or do you mean to go back on your own orders, sir? I suppose Master Errick’s death means nothing at all to such a lofty captain.”

  “This is hardly the time to discuss it.”

  “The men have concerns and won’t be put off any longer, Captain. We’ll have your judgment on this before we reach the Needle’s end.”

  The crew gaped up at the gun master. He’d just issued the captain an order. My cheeks were aflame now, but it wasn’t from humiliation. The man knew my father would never order me whipped. It would reveal us both.

  “Aden acted well, and Lane’s disobedience will be dealt with privately. However, young Barrie let his fear endanger the entire crew in a critical moment. He will face punishment.” Father’s voice seemed barely controlled as he turned back to his second officer. “Now, if you say a single word more, Gun Master, you will join Master Errick. Understood?”

  Barrie went pale as Kemp looked over the crew, the corners of his mouth turned upward at their stunned reactions. He’d forced the captain’s hand and, in doing so, had torn at the fabric of the ship even more. No captain could legally send a member of his crew to death, especially not an officer. For a moment, I saw my father as they did—not a strong, capable sailor, but a tyrant who cared little for the lives of his crew. A dictator ruled by emotion and fear.

  A pirate.

  A chill settled over my numb heart. Kemp hadn’t changed how the men saw the captain. Father had done that himself.

  Satisfied, Kemp barked an order for his men to sweep up the scattered bits of ice, then turned back to his post as if nothing had happened. Dennis, looking disturbed, sent a few men aloft to fetch the torn mainsail for mending. The crew shuffled slowly back to their work. Several muttered Errick’s name followed by hurried prayers. They all avoided my gaze. Father had protected me yet again, but it had come at a cost.

  I sent a silent prayer of my own to follow Errick into the afterlife, then hurried to join the rest of the crew, ignoring Aden’s accusing glare. If Father was determined to fuel a mutiny and ignore the facts, he was welcome to it. Meanwhile, I was certain that foot line had been Kemp’s doing. I had to figure out how to stop him before we ran out of time.

  Something told me we had very little left.

  Three hours later, cliff walls still extended high above us, their peaks jagged against the darkening sky. Broken rock cradled the ship on both sides. I knew the remains of a hundred rockslides lay buried beneath us. The entire channel seemed asleep compared to the disaster we’d just faced on the open sea.

  I stood at the rail, letting my sore arm rest upon it. The surgeon had advised a sling and rest for my shoulder, but I’d refused both. A sling would mean a visual reminder of my ordeal to Father, and nothing short of a direct order would make me miss a Needle crossing. Perhaps not even that.

  Aden joined me, nodding to the bag sitting at my feet. “What’s this?”

  “A pilot trick Father taught me.” Long ago, when life had been simple and I’d known exactly who my father was. We felt like strangers now.

  Aden eyed the bag. “I don’t see how mud will help.”

  “Watch.” I lifted it and scooped up a handful of the goopy black mess. Then I tossed it toward the water and hefted the gaslight lantern high overhead so he could see.

  As the mud hit, a thousand tiny specks broke free and zoomed back toward the sky. But the animals had already seen them. Several of them burst from the water, jaws extended, their black teeth glistening in the night. Then their jaws slammed closed over the insects and they plunged into the water.

  Aden gaped. “Jardrakes.”

  “Aye. They follow us. If I dumped this whole bag, you’d see the school of them. Some are longer than three men head to toe. When you get enough of those monsters swimming beside the ship, they’ll push us along and cushion the hull from the sharpest rocks.”

  “Instead of avoiding them, you use them,” he muttered. “Brilliant.” Even the shadows couldn’t hide his exhaustion. Aden’s hair was plastered to his head, still damp from the relentless drizzle. A tiny red cut was visible midway down his nose. A raindrop perched on one of his eyelashes as he watched the water, and I was overcome with an urge to brush it away. The feel of his hands earlier still filled me with a strange sensation.

  And his expression. There was nothing casual about it. It was one I’d seen between couples, a wordless one that meant entire paragraphs.

  Once we emerged from this terrible channel, we’d be two days closer to Ellegran and leaving Aden behind. I’d never see him again.

  “Can I try?” he asked.

  I held the bag for him. He reached in and scooped some mud out, grimacing at the texture. Then he leaned over the rail and tipped his palm.

  The insects, already invigorated at my earlier touch, escaped more quickly this time. But the jardrakes were ready. They devoured the black cloud with snapping jaws before slipping back into the dark water.

  “The insects don’t have a chance, do they?” Aden said, wiping his hands together to clear the remaining dirt. “Seems like nothing would against those things.”

  “No. Whatever they want, they get.” I felt a swell of uneasiness. People said similar things about Captain Belza. We’d managed to avoid those four pirate ships, but we still didn’t know whether they were truly Belza’s. Hopefully we’d never find out.

  “That was certainly exhilarating,” Aden said, turning to lean against the rail. “The storm, the pirates, the ice, and now this. I see why you love it. Definitely more exciting than court life.” A shadow crossed his face.

  “Aden…,” I began, unsure what I meant to say.

  He waited, watching me in the shadows. Half his face was illuminated by gaslight, and I resisted the urge to move the lantern to better examine how his shirt pulled tight around the shoulders. Surely he had a dozen ladies after him now that he was of marriageable age. Strange that he’d left it all behind to board a ship and flee across the ocean. Maybe that was the question I couldn’t ask: Why?

  He yanked his gaze back to the water. The moment had passed. “I’m glad you’re fine,” he said. “You had us—had me worried.” He glanced down at the deck. A hundred tiny indentations from the ice were visible where the light touched. I brushed my arm, a series of purple bruises dotting my skin like giant freckles. It was nothing compared to poor Errick’s plight.

  I wished I could be glad of my survival. But Barrie would be punished for nothing more than fear, Kemp was growing bolder, and Father was too angry to listen to me. I’d heard hushed conversations between several sailors today already. Dennis and Father weren’t the only ones who’d seen Belza’s banner. The longer my father kept Belza’s sworn revenge a secret, the less the crew would trust him.

  And then there was Aden. The thought of being in a boy’s arms, even if he’d only caught me, sprang a strangely pleasant shiver. Even now, despite the cliff walls around us and the black fins flapping about in the water, my awareness was captured by his presence. I felt his nearness like a thousand tingles, felt his breath like a shift in the wind. If he touched me again, my skin would ignite.

  Maybe it was time to lie down after all.

  He still waited for a response. I forced a smile. “Father always said I was stubb
orn. Guess he was right.”

  “I knew as much when I met you.” Aden’s tone was low and husky, like he struggled with his own voice. A full two feet lay between us, and yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. There was just something too captivating about the way his sleeves clung to his arms.

  “Thank you for… helping.” I couldn’t find the right words. Thanks for watching out for Barrie, for catching me. For taking a risk I never expected you to take.

  “I was relieved to be of help.” There was an emotion in his eyes I couldn’t place, lighting something inside that I’d never felt before. Like the shock of rough fabric rubbing against itself or sudden light in a dark room. It danced on the edge of pleasure and pain.

  I took a shuddering breath. “We’ll reach the end of the Needle soon. Father wanted the mainsail mended, if possible. I should help.”

  “Lane, I…” He tore away, shaking his head as if censuring himself. It broke whatever spell he’d cast on me, and I melted against the rail to put space between us.

  “Ocean in sight!” The call came from aloft. “Not ten minutes ahead.”

  The rest of the crew cheered, exhaustion heavy in their voices. They couldn’t wait to get belowdecks and shed their wet clothing. Then Kemp’s watch would take over as we emerged into open sea and prepared for Errick’s memorial service.

  I shoved the mud bag at Aden and headed for the cabin, fighting the flush that spread through me like a virus. I no longer knew who my own father was, but I knew exactly who I had to be—and that was a captain’s boy. Not a waist-swinging lady in eight layers of skirts.

  Somehow it was getting harder to remember that.

  I yanked the door open and practically leaped inside to the safety of the captain’s cabin. Shoving the door closed, I tried to calm my ragged breathing. What had just happened?

  It didn’t matter what I longed to say. No words could change what was.

  I wrenched my heart into submission, scolding it until I felt the softness fade. I was the daughter of a sea captain, not a courtier. I would never be the type of girl Aden wanted. Keeping our secrets until he was safe in Ellegran was what mattered right now.

  When my breathing finally slowed, I pulled my shoulders back and lifted my chin as Lane always did. Then I headed for bed.

  Morning dawned a muddy gray.

  The channel had deposited us into the sea mostly unscathed. The sails had been hastily, if temporarily, repaired. The rudder was damaged but seemed to function adequately. Yet another issue for the carpenter to address, but at least it was a small one. The real problem was Barrie.

  I hadn’t been awake ten minutes before the call came to witness punishment. It seemed my father wanted to get the lashing over with before the men took their breakfast and prepared for Errick’s memorial service. I wasn’t hungry at all.

  The crew lined up along the rails. Dennis stood at the mainmast with Barrie. Kemp’s men bunched around them, all looking smug. They knew the crew disapproved of the captain’s decision. Even now I heard whispers as the stragglers made their way to the group.

  My father remained in our cabin. He would emerge once everyone had gathered. He’d need every ounce of authority today, even if it was simply appearances.

  “You mustn’t judge your father too harshly for this,” Paval said, taking a place at my side. His black hair hung in a tidy braid down one massive shoulder. “I know how you care for Barrie. We both do.”

  I glanced at the stairs—no Aden yet, not that I was looking—and forced a noncommittal shrug. If yesterday’s encounter hadn’t revealed Kemp’s intentions to my father, nothing would.

  “I know why he’s doing this,” I said. “But he could have assigned Barrie scrubbing or galley duties instead.” The cat-o’-nine-tails broke men’s minds as quickly as it did their backs, leaving behind night terrors and darting eyes that lasted long after their scars had healed. I’d seen it happen before.

  Barrie fidgeted as he waited next to Dennis, bare from the trousers up. His face was as slashed from yesterday’s ice as any man’s.

  “Captain Garrow is beholden to the safety of ship and crew,” Paval said. “Better for him to show a firm hand than a weak one. Especially now.” He frowned and glanced at Kemp, who was chuckling at something Digby had said. Kemp caught my gaze and motioned with his fingers—a slight movement, undetectable to anyone else. Two.

  I frowned. Two days until my silence payment was due. I was still considerably short. Kemp never accepted anything but coin for his payments, so the seashell buttons would do me no good. If I delivered only part of the sum, would that negate our bargain altogether?

  My father emerged from the cabin, and everyone went quiet.

  “Captain on deck,” Dennis called. “We will now witness punishment for disobedience.”

  Barrie visibly stiffened as he turned toward Dennis, who picked up the knotted cat and wrung it with rigid hands. It was the shorter one, at least, with rope tails sixteen inches long instead of thirty and no bone entwined. A compromise on my father’s part.

  Barrie straightened. “If you please, sir, be using the man’s instrument.”

  Dennis’s eyebrows shot up, but he recovered quickly. “Captain ordered the lesser sentence. Gun Master, string him up.” Kemp stepped forward eagerly.

  Barrie stood his ground, a stubborn tilt to his chin. “But—”

  “If he desires the greater punishment, that is his choice,” Father said.

  I wanted to pluck his words from the air and shove them back down his throat. Barrie worked alongside the men, but he was still a boy—a boy who’d made a tiny mistake. This wasn’t fair, and Father had to know it.

  Dennis only hesitated a moment. “Aye, sir.” He retrieved the larger cat from his bag as Kemp positioned Barrie at the mast. With a jerk, the boy’s wrists were yanked high above his head. His back was smooth and tanned. The flawless skin of a child.

  My father stood on the quarterdeck, looming over us like a king overseeing his obedient servants. He’d stood right there, just like that, years before.

  I was eleven. Two dozen boats full of islander pirates had flanked us on either side in the fog-filled night. It was clear from the jeering men that we were outnumbered three to one. Worse, they carried weapons that flung fire onto our deck. Pirates we could fight. Fire, on the other hand, was a sailor’s greatest fear.

  Any reasonable captain would have surrendered the ship, hoping the gesture would save himself and his crew from certain death. But Father had given a soul-stirring speech instead. He’d called for courage and skill from his men. He’d reminded them of their families and the people waiting for them to return. He’d looked every man in the eye like he knew what they were capable of and expected precisely that. There were no lies, no false promises of glory. Just a captain asking his sailors to fight with everything inside of them.

  And they’d done it. With Captain Garrow at the helm, we’d destroyed half the boats and sent the pirates swimming with the jardrakes without losing a single man. The story of our impossible victory had since become legend.

  As I’d watched Father speak that night, his eyes narrowed and the men watching him in awe, something stirred within me. I’d experienced the deepest, most gut-wrenching hunger I’d ever known. I knew then what I wanted.

  I would be captain of the Majesty or nothing at all.

  Now, years later, my father looked different. He wore the same coat and boots, though his hair was littered with gray. But the determination in his stature, his gaze, his clenched fists was a more disturbing variety. He refused to meet my gaze. Clearly, that noble captain from long ago was gone. The thought cracked something at my core, something I hadn’t realized was there. Because if Father was a liar, what did that make me?

  I knew the answer to that. I was the sea’s greatest hypocrite, for I judged my father for being exactly what I was.

  Aden was the last to emerge from below, staring at the ground with a tight jaw. He appeared as miserable as
Father. Maybe my ship wasn’t as different from Aden’s twisted kingdom as I wanted to think. The thought made me shift in my boots.

  Now Dennis was ready. This cat hung longer than the other, and I spied the bits of bone woven into its knots. The rope was scrubbed after each use, but the ends were stained a dark red regardless. Several of the men flinched at the sight. How many times had Father covered for my own indiscretions, things that should have earned me stripes of my own?

  “This sailor was ordered to furl sail,” Dennis called out. “He allowed his fear to overcome him instead, costing us precious time and putting others at risk. Captain has executed his right to punishment. Fifteen lashes.” He eyed Father. “Let it be a lesson, particularly in a storm, when every second means life or death.”

  Normally, sailors called out Hear, hear or Aye at this point. But today there was nothing but the creaking of the Majesty, her sad mourning for what was about to happen. Most faces were long and somber, but others looked flushed. A tiny triumphant smirk crossed Kemp’s face.

  “When you’re ready, Dennis,” Father said. His voice was familiar and confident, everything a captain’s voice should be.

  “Ready yourself, Barrie,” Dennis said with a touch of pity. He’d rolled his sleeves back for this. At least Dennis was accurate. There wouldn’t be any wasted blows.

  Dennis swept the cat back. The whip whistled through the air, then sliced into Barrie’s skin. He gasped, arching his back, teeth gritted and eyes narrowed to slits. That crack inside I’d felt earlier began to widen.

  “One,” my father said.

  The whip sailed again and landed true. Barrie jerked. His jaw was clenched so tightly, I marveled that he could breathe at all.

  “Two.”

  Another crack. Kemp’s mouth twitched.

  “Three.”

  Someone muttered a curse and was quickly shushed. Digby looked triumphant, as did several of Kemp’s comrades. An urge to tear the cat from Dennis’s hands and erase that smug smile nearly overcame me. Instead, I clasped my hands together and rooted my gaze on Barrie, wishing I could lend him strength.