“He’s dead!” Solo finished. He sounded shocked. But I wasn’t.

I listed against the railing and hung my head.

“And you’re dead drunk!” Solo stared at me, his eyes wide. “Not one of us could beat Nikolai sober—God knows most of us have tried.”

“He tried to rape Rusty,” I slurred. “Then said he’d kill me, the old brute.” My blood, which had been cooling, began to boil anew. When the red ring tinged my vision, it was as though I stepped out of myself and into the skin of a killer—who would stop at nothing to win.

I shook my head, then immediately regretted it. Instead, I held up a finger to my crew and wagged it like a schoolmarm might. “And that will never be allowed.”

A couple of men chuckled, but I couldn’t tell who they were.

“Red?” Solo stood there, staring at me. “I’m a little drunk. But—am I dreaming?” Finally, Red Legs waddled over. “I’ll get Rusty safe to her bunk, Red.” He looked at me, then looked at me again. “You need assistance gettin’ to yours?”

I patted my belly as my vision cooled and the red ring faded. As the adrenaline ebbed, I became myself again.

We did good, baby.

“I’ll take care of Red.” Solo’s voice comforted me on some level. My knees started to shake as the adrenaline ebbed.

I sank over the railing as my stomach threatened to revolt. “Jack?”

Solo helped me to sit down, feet dangling over the side. The gentle lapping of the water against the side of The Black Otter made my eyelids flutter. “He’s not back yet, Red. He’ll be proud to hear of your fight.”

“Need to tell Jack—”

Solo rested his arm across my shoulders as a wave of nausea swelled in my stomach. I retched into the sea until tears streamed down my face.

“I’m sure everyone will be telling Jack about this fight,” Solo assured me.

I batted his well-meaning hand away and wiped my mouth. “Not that.” Despite emptying my stomach, I felt even drunker than before. “About the baby.”

“Um—” Solo’s boots scraped the deck beside me. A moment later someone’s hands were under my arms. “Let me help you get to your bunk, Red. Tommy!”

“Tommy’s here, I am. What does Solo need me help with?”

Solo’s voice had sobered as he babysat his inebriated co-captain. “Help me get Red to her’s and Jack’s bunk.”

Tommy, a head and a half shorter than Solo, ducked under one arm while Solo held the other. On Tommy’s side, my arm rested on his balding head. “That was the cleanest fight I ever seen, it was.” Tommy’s voice was full to bursting with awe. “The way you jibbed, and you jabbed. You killed him right fair, you did.”

I tried not to giggle as my feet seemed to tie themselves in knots on the short walk across the deck. “I appreciate all the help—”

“After we get you tucked in, Solo and me, we’s gonna chunk this Nikolai feller over, we is. Time that big lug was put to rest, it is.”

Slowly, two of my crewmates helped me navigate the steps into the captain’s quarters. “Tommy,” I slurred as we reached the bottom. “Fank you, for all your help.

“It be no problem Miss Red, it—”

“Your pa,” I interrupted, “would be mighty proud of you.”

Solo and Tommy deposited me at my door and retreated up the stairs. I waved to them, then toddled to my bunk. I didn’t even bother with disrobing, not that I could have if it’d have tried. Instead, I fell asleep with my clothes on, sprawled across the bunk I shared with my absent husband.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door to our quarters creaked and slid across the floor. I opened one eye. The sun’s rays peeked through the porthole. My head throbbed. I closed my eye again.

“I heard you had an eventful night.” Jack eased himself down onto our bunk and rubbed my back. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Told you I’d manage,” I said. “Me and the baby, we did just fine.”

Jack stopped rubbing. “Do you mean you and Rusty?”

I smiled and rolled over. I took Jack’s hand in mine and placed it over the slight curve of my belly. “No Jacky. I mean our baby.”

“You mean—” Jack’s voice trailed off into the early morning dawn. “I’m going to be a father? Someone’s father?”

I giggled, but Jack wasn’t there to hear it. The door at the top of our stairs banged open. “I’m going to be a father!” His words were a bellow in the early morning haze, and no doubt, those still feeling the effects of the rum didn’t appreciate his fervor.

A moment later, Jack thundered back into our quarters. “Come on!”

I raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re having my baby, I must keep you fed. To the galley.”

I stared at him. His glowing face dimmed. “Or should I bring it to you? In bed?”

I pushed myself onto my elbows. “To the galley we go,” I managed. I let him help me to my feet. “My, you’re going to be a protective father, aren’t you?”

The smells in the galley made me belch. Or perhaps it was the remnants of last night’s rum. Either way, my knees were weak and my stomach felt like the sea before a storm. I sank onto a chair and lay my head on the table.

Rusty’s voice chimed from somewhere. “Don’t you believe that God can answer our prayers?”

Red Legs’ voice answered from somewhere. “I never gave it much thought.”

“I do. I know He can actually. He did for me.”

Red Legs must have been on galley duty, because the odor of meat and fish assaulted my nose. Normally, I would have relished the scent. But not today.

“I prayed for a way off that boat, Red Legs. Every morning, every night. All day. Then a ship appeared.” Her voice dropped. “Your ship.”

“It did?”

“It did.” Rusty sounded as certain in her declarations of God’s existence as I was in my absolute nausea this morning. “And I recognized you right off.”

“Me?”

The sizzling of meat hurried my stomach’s revolt. I hiccupped and groaned.

“Yes. I recognized you from a dream I had. I was praying and fell asleep. Of course, I was locked in my bunk. In my dream, I saw you.” I could hear a smile in her voice. “You didn’t look so angry, though.”

If Red Legs replied, I didn’t hear it. Unable to hold my stomach at bay any longer, I dashed up the stairs and to the railing where its final revolt came to fruition.