“But if they’re as bad as you say, keeping them around will lead to a problem. If not now, later.”

Poison Lightning spoke as though he was using all the English language he could muster, perhaps from some grammar school lessons he’d overheard as a boy, or simply from his listening to people speak throughout his life. He seemed to be using all the rules of the language, but at all the wrong times. “Need Charles. Need Dark Water. Bad can be good never, Captain.”

Jack rubbed his chin. His black cape fluttered in a sudden breeze. He looked to the sky, then back to Poison Lightning. They shared a smile.

“A storm’s coming,” Jack observed.

“Sail. Now.”

Jack clapped his hands. “I have a sneaky feeling that we’ll intercept Tommy before he has time to get himself killed.”

I heard the anchor being hoisted as I made my way down to our cabin, and in no time, we were on our way.

The storm raged on outside, furthering the righteous nausea that had gripped my gut. It seemed like days passed before Jack came down to our bunk.

“Here, ginger root. To help settle your stomach.”

I peeked out from under my pillow with a groan. Jack held out a wrinkled white root that looked strangely like a gnarled hand. “Just chew a bit at a time.”

I took it and nibbled at the end of what looked like the thumb. Once I got through the papery outer layer, the inside was juicy and had a strange spicy flavor. In no time, my mouth was on fire. I chewed quickly and swallowed.

“Whatever ails me will likely be burnt out by this likes of this devil root.”

Jack sat down on the foot of the bed and rubbed my leg. “How long do you reckon ‘till we have our child?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that myself. Close as I can come, my guess would be about five more months?”

Jack’s face transformed to that of one a man might wear in a shop, confused between two prams, not knowing which is best for his unborn, but delighted all the while that his child would be sleeping in one soon. “Five months you say. So shortly after we reach Madagascar, if we don’t catch Tommy before.”

I pushed myself up and ran my hand through Jack’s hair. “I suppose it’s time to start thinking of names. Father.”

•

“How have we still not caught Tommy? Did he have that much of a lead on us?”

Jack steered the giant wooden wheel and stared out over the choppy sea. “He had a bit of a lead on us, but it’s this weather that’s against us. He seems to be catching the good winds and leaving the sour winds for us.”

“Surely that can’t happen, Jack. Truly.”

Jack cut his glance down to me. “Tommy’s no expert sailor. He had a good lead on us and has kept it. Something is working in his favor.”

I pulled my shawl about my shoulders and handed Jack the steaming cup I brought for him. He accepted it with a sly wink.

“I think Rusty is falling in love with Red Legs.”

Jack sipped the steaming coffee. “Surely you’re not just figuring that out.”

I gave Jack a playful nudge with my elbow. “I wasn’t done. I was going to say I thought at first, he might feel the same for her. But now, I’m not so sure.”

“You may be right. I noticed him being a bit more standoffish, too.”

I rubbed my swollen belly. “Any idea why?”

Jack nodded. “Rusty, sweet girl that she is. She’s always talking about God and praying and dreams.”

“That she is. Devout.” I stretched my back. “Funny, she sees a boat full of pirates as her saving grace.”

Jack chuckled and took a longer swill of his coffee. “As did you, if I recall.”

I arched an eyebrow and shrugged. “Perhaps you’re not pirates after all. But a band of marauding angels, rescuing damsels in distress.”

“And you and Rusty can convince the Powers-That-Be of that very thing if we ever get caught.”

My smile faded. “Jacky, please. Don’t say such things.”

He drained his cup and held it out to me. “Of course. I’m sorry, Red.”

I took it and stuck it in my britches pocket. “Why do you figure religion to be off-putting to Red Legs?” I stepped to the bow of the ship and gripped the railing. “He swore in on a Bible, didn’t he?”

“He did. Everyone did. But Red Legs had a hard past. Probably has a beef with God. With Rusty telling everyone how good and merciful He is all the time—”

“Yes?”

“Well, Red Legs probably wonders where God was when he was getting the daylights whipped out of him for no good reason.”

“Oh.” I took a step back and froze.

“I know it’s hard to hear, Red, but—”

“Oh!”

Jack turned his attention to me. “What is it? Are you all right?”

I held my belly in my hands as a smile spread over my face. “Oh!”

“Red?”

“Feel here.” I grabbed Jack’s hand and placed it where I felt our baby kick.

Nothing.

“What am I feeling for?”

“Talk to her.”

“Who?”

“Your daughter.” I tapped his hand. “She’s shy now. Talk to her. Tell her to kick her father’s hand.”