I watched as they slunk across the deck like a pair of thieves who wished to be unnoticed in a room filled with fine things. Jack kept his voice low. “He must have sensed us talking about him.”
“Charles Swan was the other one, actually.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t surprise me. Where one is, you can usually find the other. Tell me, what was it they did that perturbed you?”
I studied the railing as though there would be a test. “They seemed to—enjoy the macabre. In fact, I believe it excited them.”
“Excited them?”
“Yes. Charles laughed that hideous laugh of his as he took a man’s head off, and Dark Water—”
I felt like a schoolgirl tattling to her governess. “He licked the blood of the men I saw him kill.”
“I see.” Jack placed his booted foot back onto the railing and exhaled. “Dark Water came off another slave ship liberated by The Black Otter fleet, just like The Poison Lightning. But the damage was already done to Dark Water, from a young age I figure.”
The memory of the way the tall African with skin like coal stilled his movements before turning to glare at me when I first came aboard The Black Otter gave me pause. A shiver gripped my backbone when his scintillating eyes met mine that day and didn’t disappoint today.
“He’ll not harm you,” Jack assured me. “But take care round him. Same as you’d take care round a caged tiger at a menagerie of animals.”
I slid my tongue across my teeth. He’ll not harm me? Before she went to sleep, Monica Joan caught my hand in hers and whispered to me her fears about Dark Water and Charles. They’d circled her in the heat of the battle, the lust in their eyes and the bulges in the front of their britches weren’t unnoticed. Thankfully, the battle turned bloody and they seemed to forget her. I bit my tongue and decided not to share Monica Joan’s fears with Jack.
“And Dark Water’s friend? Charles Swan?”
“A rootless Englishman, slippery in his morals, but seems to dote on Dark Water. One of the hardest workers you’re likely to meet. He would outwork me—if I’d let him.”
I decided Swan was not to be trusted. He carried himself in a way that disturbed me, but not so much that I could aptly describe it to Jack. His shifty eyes always darted between Dark Water and Jack, as though he was unsure of who to follow.
Or perhaps afraid of showing Jack where his loyalty truly lies.
Truth be told, his pencil-thin moustache and pointy nose, coupled with the stringy hair that hung sadly over his too-large forehead, gave the skinny man the look of an outcast orphan. Perhaps in some life, he had been.
Jack’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “You killed two men today.”
“Not only have I stolen. But now, I’ve done murder.” The reality of what I’d done hit the pit of my stomach like a stone that would stay there always. How could sins such as these ever be forgiven? My Catholic upbringing told of all sins being forgiven when confessed and the penance given by the priest was performed. If no penance was performed, I would pay fiery, eternal consequences, should an enemy relieve me of my head. Or my life. “Oh Jack, what have I done?”
“You’ve stayed alive in the life you’re living. And you protected that of your husband.”
“Do you believe we will atone for our sins at judgement?”
Jack’s smile faded. “I do.”
“Then how do you justify this life? How can I?”
Jack sucked in a deep breath. “God gave us commandments, did he not? Those commandments are for the landlubbers. Upon the sea, we have our own commandments.”
“What are they?”
Jack draped his arm over my shoulder. “Let your conscience be at rest, Red. You’ve done nothing against God or your captain. We’ll go over the articles of our ship in due time.”
My heart thundered in my chest, but began to slow with Jack’s words.
He pointed out to sea. “See that there?”
A dark shadow appeared on the water.
Another ship.
My knees turned to water and I gripped the railing. The adrenaline from the Arabian pirates had just begun to ebb. The thought of having to do it all again—
It hadn’t taken me a terribly long while to find my sea legs, but sometimes, when the ship pitched just right, the nausea would win. The world pitched around me but had nothing to do the waves on the sea.
Jack caught my elbow before I could slink to the deck. “See the flag, Red?”
A Jolly Roger fluttered from the mast.
“That’s The Spanish Rose, another ship in our Black Otter fleet. My ship, your ship.” Jack slid his finger along the blade scar on my cheek. “Tonight, you’ll meet men who work aboard her.”
•
“Then, the captain grabbed my neck but my cutlass was under his throat!” Jack demonstrated with loose movements. Several jugs of rum passed around the circle of men who spent most of the night regaling the stories of their bloody, high-seas adventures. The pirates cackled and cat-called as Jack demonstrated, badly, how he and the captain danced across the deck, each only an inch from death. Despite the darting glances from the strange men, I smiled, too.
The heavy-bearded pirate Jack called Red Legs Roberts sat off to the side and watched the goings on with a gallon of rum tucked between his knees.
“Another one to treat carefully,” Jack had warned when the men from The Spanish Rose boarded The Black Otter. “He possesses a temper that has left pubs aflame and has a fiery personality to match. An angry lad, hungry for revenge. You see, not all slaves are Africans.” Jack’s look softened a bit. “I picked up Red Legs in Barbados, where he was bound as a slave. He was the whipping boy.”
I’d heard of whipping boys. Whenever the children of the master of the house misbehaved, they themselves were not punished. Instead, a slave was chosen to endure the punishment for him. “Please, say no more.”
“Bloodthirsty for headhunters he is. As we all are, I’m sure. And the loot we take helps, too.”
