“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.
Where to hide? Jack said to stay hidden no matter what.
I glanced wildly about as The Black Otter pitched on the sea. A moment later, the anchor splashed down outside Jack’s porthole window. My heart thundered in my chest.
What is going on? If it is bad enough to cause such a reaction from Jack then it must be—
My gaze fell upon our bed.
There!
Though I failed to notice before, mine and Jack’s bed was laid out atop a flat, wooden chest. I pushed up the mattress and, sure enough, there was a handle. I gave it a pull. It creaked open just enough for me to get one leg in. Then the other. As I let the top ease down and seal me into what may prove to be my tomb, someone or something hit the locked bedroom door.
Chatter in another language, syllabic and short, echoed in the stairway.
Please God, let the mattress fall back over the top of this trunk. Let me stay hidden. Let—
Something sharp hit the locked door with such force, the wood splintered with a sickening crack. Hidden by darkness, an anonymous thing with many legs whisked across my hand.
Jack. Oh Jacky, where are you?
The incessant chatter grew louder.
Is that Chinese?
“You saw her come down here?”
“Ahhh—”
The tell-tale creak screeched as the mysterious invaders discovered my hiding place. Candlelight flooded into my tucked-away space. I glanced up. There, staring down at me, were the faces of men I’d never seen the likes of before. Slanted eyes, long mustaches, sharp swords. They certainly were Chinese. Chinese pirates.
“Take her to Jack,” one ordered in twangy, broken syllables. “Let he watch us all take her before we kill her.”
One of their swords poked into the flesh of my back as they forced me up the stairs.
“Behold,” one of my captors hissed. “Your husband.”
The doors flung open and I stumbled out onto the deck.
My throat tightened at the sight laid out before me. Russian Jack was there. On his knees, with a rope around his neck like a dog. Haggard and dirty Chinamen ringed him. All wore a look of murder in their eyes. Jack’s icy eyes, however, were swollen almost shut. Scarlet smears streaked his cheeks. His chest rose and fell as though he’d just fought for his life, and was on the verge of giving up. When our eyes met, however, he bristled anew.
