Jack and I swayed together. “I figure the Bible. In the book of Matthew. Verse 16: 2-3. Where it all began.”

I turned to look at Jack. This man amazed me more and more as days went by. “I have a confession. I never figured you to be a man of the Word. But when you swore the crew in on the Bible yesterday—”

Jack smiled down at me. “He answered and said unto them, When it is evening, ye say, It will be fair weather: for the sky is red. And in the morning, It will be foul weather to day: for the sky is red and lowering.”

My mouth fell opened and my eyes widened. I closed it as Jack continued. “Our Lord and Savior said this. One of the many reasons I believe He had salt in his blood. Like me.”

He brushed my forehead with a kiss. I shivered. “Come to think of it, I believe Mr. Shakespeare mentioned it, too. In Venus and Adonis.”

Jack’s fingers twirled in my hair. “Is that so?”

I nodded. “Like a red morn that ever yet betokened, wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field. Sorrow to the shepherds, woe unto the birds, gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.” I smiled at him. “I assume the meaning is the same?”

All the play was gone from Jack’s face. “Recites Shakespeare from memory. My, my Red. I certainly do have a gem in you.” He traced my cheek with his finger as light as though he were using a feather. “Pray tell, continue. I could listen to you all the day long.”

Before I could call the next verse to mind, a black mass appeared on the horizon. “Jack! Another ship!”

“Aye, it is. But fear not. We know this ship. And they are friend, not foe.” He gestured toward the mysterious ship. “Look at the flag, my dear, and you’ll see that this ship is The Molly Maiden.”

As we drew closer, I squinted into the sunrise. A heavy-bodied bare-breasted outline of a woman in white against a black background flittered proudly on the sewn material. I looked sideways at Jack. “The Molly Maiden?”

“Yes, she is harmless.” Jack nodded.

I eyed the ship as it drew nearer. My stomach flipped as an odd emotion I couldn’t place settled there. I licked my lips, which had gone dry. “You mentioned before, about your parents—”

I let my words trail off into the early morning fog.

Jack unfurled his fingers from my hair and stepped beside me at the railing. He propped one booted foot onto the lowest rail and gazed out to sea. “As you already know, my father was a pirate. The world knew him as the infamous Vladimir Nemirovsky.”

Jack glanced at me. I shrugged and offered an infinitesimal shake of my head. “I’ve never heard of your father, Jack.”

Jack nodded. “He was known among all those who called Mother Russian home. He led rebellions against the Russia’s Tsars.”

“I see.”

Jack drew in a deep breath, but kept his gaze fixed on the sea. “I’ve never spoken of this. Forgive me if my words are choppy.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” I whispered. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Jack glanced at me again. His eyes shimmered with years of unrealized emotion. “It is so easy to love you, Red.” He sniffled and cleared his throat. “My father was a pirate, like myself. His wanderings brought him to England, where he bought my mother’s affections. And stole her heart. At least, that’s the story she told me when I was old enough to ask.”

“Your mother took care of you on her own then?”

“That she did, in her seaside whorehouse with the help of her fellow ladies-of-the-evening, as long as she was able.”

I wonder if I ever passed his mother’s whorehouse while running about for my own mother—or Sully?

Jack knitted his fingers together over the railing. “The coughing started when I was a young lad. She made sure I stayed in my little room in her closet, far away from her, around that time, lest I come down with the coughing, too.”

It seemed Jack was treading on thin ice as he spoke of his mother with careful, deliberate words. I was equally careful not to speak, lest my words be the ones that made the ice break.

“The ladies kept me fed and clothed as her coughing got worse, then turned bloody. I learned early on to pick the pockets of the men who bought my mother while they slept.”

“Wouldn’t that have been dangerous, had you been caught?” The boards of The Black Otter creaked as the several waves crashed against the side without warning. Salty spray wet my lips.

“Yes. Deadly dangerous.” Jack offered me a small smile. “It only took my being caught once to learn that.”

“What happened?” My voice was a barely a whisper. I immediately regretted asking, for now I would have to hear the answer.

“I made the mistake of taking all the money from the john’s wallet. Well, of course the next morning he noticed that all his money had vanished overnight. He immediately began beating on my mother, who was still asleep, accusing her of stealing from him.”

I drew my hands to my mouth.

“I wasn’t allowed to come out of my closet, no matter what I heard or saw. But I couldn’t let my mom take a beating for something I did. So I burst out of my closet and jumped on the man as he whipped my mother with his belt.” Jack drew a shuttering breath. “He turned on me. Gave my mother time to get herself together and slip out the door. When she got back with help, the man was gone. Threw me through a glass mirror and left me for dead in a puddle of blood, so I was told.”

I squinted into the rising sun. “My my, Jack—”

Jack ignored me and continued to tell the gruesome story of his past. “I learned then and there how to properly steal so nobody could tell they’d been swiped. My mother went downhill quickly after that beating and didn’t last much longer. When she wasn’t entertaining men, she took every spare moment to tell me of my father.”

“She loved him,” he continued. “He made her promises. They made plans of a life together. She was going to go with him on the high seas when he returned to Russia. In the end, he left her, with child, under the cover of night. She gave me the most Russian name she knew, Mikhail, and my father’s last name. Nemirovsky. But of course, Russian Jack suits me just fine.”

I felt like I was reading a storybook in my old nursery. “So tell me. How did you come to kill your father, Jack?”

Jack snapped out of whatever trance he’d retreated to. The mist cleared from his sea-green eyes as the giant wooden ship with the bare-breasted woman on the flag passed by. Half dressed women cat-called and whistled from over the railing of The Molly Maiden.

“Come now, my sweet Red, it’s time we begin the day.”

•

“The sky wasn’t red tonight,” I observed. The stars sparkled above us like diamonds on a black velvet pillow. This moonless night also lacked in breeze. All the day, I’d not been able to shake the image of a young Jack killing his burly pirate father from my mind. “Tell me Jack, how—”

My husband, who moments before had been standing innocently at my side, slapped his hand over my mouth with a smack. I chirped in surprise. Of all the things my husband might do that caused me shock, him hitting me never entered into my mind.

“Shush,” he warned.

I tasted coppery blood, but nodded and dared not make a sound.

Jack lowered his hand. The shift in mood was almost tangible as we stood in shared silence. My husband lifted his face until his nose was pointed toward the sky like a bloodhound. I couldn’t decide whether I felt safe—or afraid.

“Quickly, Red,” he whispered. “Get to our cabin. Hide yourself well. Do not come out no matter what you hear.”

“I will.” I started across the dark deck. As I reached the doors that led down into our quarters, I heard Jack suck in a breath.

He let loose with a bellow so loud that I covered my ears. “Ships approaching, men!”

A high-pitched cackle split the tense air. “No, Captain. You are wrong. Ships already here.”

Full grown fear drove me through the doors and down the stairs. When I reached our bedroom, I locked the door.