For the purposes of their impending rescue—namely, making lots of noise, setting a large fire, and snatching Ace in the ensuing chaos—a more basic explosive would work fine.
Their plan had come together in bits and pieces as they worked. Theo seemed confident he could find passage to Porto using what supplies they could scavenge from the ailing sloop. They hoped that in addition to horses, medicine, and weapons, Abilio might send a few men with them as backup, as they expected the Sanz estate to be well-guarded. Ideally, they would use stealth and a well-timed distraction to find Ace, but they would be prepared for a fight, nonetheless.
Zander let out a long breath as Yarrow carefully lowered the finished grenadier to the deck. They’d stretched their supplies to make three fist-sized devices, one for each of them. Yarrow’s satchel was air drying over a piece of rigging, having been soaked in the sea, its contents emptied when they jumped overboard. All three would fit nicely in the satchel until they could secure packhorses. Theo’s gun vest was already dry and strapped to the pirate himself, though its holsters were empty. Upon asking, Zander learned the vest had been designed by Yarrow, who paid a friend to make it for Theo’s 36th birthday.
“Oy,” Theo hollered from his position on the upper deck. He had the telescope to his eye. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s land up ahead.”
Zander released a breath of relief, smiling for the first time since he woke up on deck and realized his life had imploded. He reached over to squeeze Yarrow’s shoulder gently as he stood. He retrieved Ace’s compass, which was sitting open next to them, then made for their quarters.
His black jacket—the one Ace encouraged him to buy in Porto—was spread neatly on the bed. He donned it, buttoning it tightly around his waist. He attached Ace’s ivory-handled blade to his belt. He tucked his daggers securely in his boots, one on each side. In his jacket pockets he placed a flint and steel, Ace’s compass, and a flask filled with watered-down wine.
Zander turned, catching his reflection in the small mirror Ace had attached to one wall. He barely recognized the man there. When he’d come aboard, he was every bit the poor tanner’s son—strong shoulders, rough hands, and a deep-seated sense of shame. Invisibility was a skill he’d honed well throughout his life, but he’d soon become invisible to even himself, simply floating through life, waiting for something he couldn’t quite name.
Before him now stood a pirate. He’d lost the perpetual hunch in his shoulders, the downcast look in his eyes. He stood tall now, his face looking forward at the world, his green eyes lucid and discerning. He still had the same strong shoulders and rough hands, but his body appeared more balanced, more well used. His hair was long now, long enough to tie back, but strands of it always seemed to escape and fall across his face. His face, which he’d always kept clean shaven, now sported a dark brown mustache and beard, which he kept trimmed.
He took one last hard look at himself in that mirror and prayed the man he saw was strong enough to do what needed to be done. He turned, surveying Ace’s room again, hoping he’d stand here again soon, Ace’s hand in his. Then he left.
When he emerged on deck, Theo and Yarrow had transformed as well. Yarrow’s satchel was tied around their waist, their long shirt almost covering it. Theo had a pistol attached to one hip and a sword at the other. He smiled at Zander as he walked toward them.
“You ready to get your girl back, mate?” he said.
Zander smiled, energized by the sight of land slowly coming into view behind his friends. He opened his mouth to answer, but then he saw sails emerge from the fog to the Northwest, and a black flag, and his words were swallowed by terror as a cannon shot rang out across the water.
***
The three of them hit the deck at the same time, covering their heads. Theo’s arms went around Yarrow, cradling them protectively. The cannon shot hit the water just to the side of them—too close.
Zander looked again at the ship. It was big, much larger than theirs. A cursory glance showed it was well manned; at least sixty men were gathered on deck.
“Where is the white flag?” Zander called to Theo and Yarrow.
“There!” Yarrow yelled, pointing to a corner where they’d piled debris the day before. He crawled toward it on his belly. Another shot rang out, this one closer. His hands closed over the flag, and he tore it from its place amid the rubbish. Theo was at his side now, and he took the flag roughly from his hands, holding it high above his head and waving it desperately in the air.
The ship was right in front of them now, and longboats were already being lowered into the water. They seemed to have seen the flag, as they were no longer firing, and Zander could hear laughter ringing out amongst the crew. Zander stood and walked to where Yarrow stood, warily watching the ship.
Yarrow looked up at him, their mouth set in a thin line.
“Take a deep breath, love,” they said. “Steady yourself. These are the pirates you’ve heard stories about.”
A chill ran down Zander’s spine.
“Once we board, we do what we can to survive," Yarrow continued. "We look for resources that can be of use to us. We aren’t friends, any of us, alright? Better them see us as castoffs, easily controlled and manipulated, not a group of unified outsiders.”
Zander nodded, swallowing. The plans they’d made just this morning drained from his head like so much blood, leaving him lightheaded.
When the men boarded the ship, Zander knew immediately Yarrow was right. He knew it had been too much to hope for, that these pirates would be fair and benevolent like Ace’s crew. Rather, it seemed they’d stepped right out of a fantastical story.
They reeked of rum and sweat. Their clothes were dirty and torn, as if there weren’t enough to go around. They shoved one another roughly as they climbed aboard, shouting, more grunts than words. Zander, Yarrow, and Theo were already on their knees, their hands up, but they were each shoved to the ground anyway and quickly disarmed. Ace’s cutlass was taken, but tentative relief snaked through Zander when they failed to notice his inner pockets or check his boots.
The pirates spread across The Valerian like rats looking for cheese, and Zander winced when he heard their fruitless search turn to wanton destruction, the frustrated men breaking anything they could find.
Zander heard more than a few English accents among the crew, including one from the captain, who stood at the helm of his vessel, shouting orders for the captives to be brought aboard. The ship was close enough Zander could see the captain clearly. His face was marked by deep wrinkles that resembled the grooves ocean waves sometimes carved in the sand. They snaked across his skin, which was bright red and blotchy. His eyes were narrowed as he grimaced at the damaged sloop, assessing it. He wore fine clothes, a stark contrast to his men.
A hand roughly grabbed Zander by the elbow, hauling him up from where he knelt on deck. “You heard ‘im,” said the sailor, who had a thick Irish accent and a mess of tangled red hair. Ace’s blade already hung from his belt.
Zander heard Theo cry out in pain as a scrawny pirate with a length of canvas tied around his head in a makeshift eyepatch grabbed him by his injured arm, pulling him up to stand.
Yarrow stood automatically at the sound of Theo’s cry, earning a punch to the head from a large man with wild blonde curls. Zander stifled the urge to scream as Yarrow’s body fell limp to the ground, unconscious. He saw a flash of panic in Theo’s eyes as he watched his lover fall, but he showed no other reaction as the men marched him away, Zander and the Irishman following in their wake. The large pirate who’d hit Yarrow stooped down and hauled them up, throwing them over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
Upon boarding the ship, the captives were brought before the captain. Theo and Zander were forced to kneel by their captors; Yarrow was dropped roughly to the ground at his feet. One of the longboats was still at The Valerian, the men remaining likely still looking for loot, of which they would find precious little.
The captain stood in front of them, his hands on his hips, his feet spread apart and his pelvis thrust forward. He looked down his nose at them silently for a few moments before speaking.
“It appears someone got to you ‘fore us,” he said. “So, I’m left with only you three as a reward. Convince me why I should keep you aboard my ship when I could kill you and be rid of three extra mouths to feed.”
Theo spoke right away, mercifully saving Zander from responding.
“I’m an expert marksman, and my previous vessel’s boatswain,” he said. He nodded his head toward Zander. “He’s a sailmaker. That one there,”—he angled his head toward Yarrow’s unconscious body without looking at them—“makes the best rum punch you’ve ever tasted in your life. But between you and me, Captain, both of them are a right pain in the ass.”
The captain looked dubious, his eyes dancing between Zander and Theo as he assessed them both. “A sailmaker we can use,” he said. “And the small fellow can scrub decks as well as anyone, I’m sure.” A rumble of quiet laughter sounded behind him from a few crew members, who were eyeing Yarrow with a mixture of amusement and malice that made Zander’s skin crawl. “As for you,” he said, his gaze returning to Theo. “You expect me to believe you’re an expert marksman?”
Theo flashed a smile that reminded Zander of a snarling dog. “Give me back my pistol and I’ll prove it to you,” he said.
“Ha!” the captain scoffed, then gestured to two men on his right. “Put this one in the brig for a few days,” he said. His voice turned to a low growl. “Leave some scars on ‘im first. Stuff the other two in the orlop and give them something to do.” He turned on his heel abruptly and walked away.
A large man with a snake tattoo covering one arm shoved Theo in the direction of the brig, a vicious smile on his face. Another man followed, carrying Yarrow’s satchel in one hand and twirling a small blade in the other.
Before he disappeared below deck, Theo looked back at Zander, a meaningful look in his eyes.
