Red Legs, who had never spoken more than a sentence to me or anyone, continued. “So I’ll move my quarters down there and Miss Rusty can have my bunk. It’s off by itself and don’t smell too much.”
Rusty nodded at him and extended her hand. “Many thanks. I’m Rusty Rackham, daughter to pirates Back from the Dead Red and Russian Jack. Who might you be? Red Legs, is it?”
I rolled my eyes as Red Legs’ face went fiery with Rusty’s direct attention. “Rusty, help Red Legs move his things. Just remember,” I caught Red Legs’ sleeve and dropped my voice to a hoarse whisper. “Rusty is my daughter. She will be respected as such.”
Red Legs’ droopy eyes widened, as though accusing him of possibly being improper was truly a shock. “Of course, Red. I would never disrespect Jack. Or you.”
Something crossed that pirate’s face that made me believe him.
I stood and watched the pair of them walk away, lost in chatter. “Come, wife.” Jack’s voice interrupted my staring. I turned to face my husband. I’d returned Solo’s sword that he’d been so kind to lend me. Jack held my steel out before him.
I accepted the thin blade. Now that I knew the full story that came with it, I accepted it gently and returned my husband’s knowing smile.
“Thank you, Jack.”
He gave me a sizzling wink. “Let us sail on to Tortuga.”
•
Flags of pirate vessels I’d not yet seen lined the bays and cays around the pirate-friendly Caribbean city of Tortuga. Jack docked us in the midst of several other Black Otter ships by moonlight.
“Care for a taste of rum, Red?” Jack’s eyes sparkled. “Seems the boys are already imbibing. Now that we’re here, we can join them. My husband handed me a jug.
Tilting it upward, I took a long swill. “Mmm. Spanish rum.” I handed it back to Jack and licked my lips. “Let the celebration begin.”
Rusty and Red Legs were on deck, passing a jug between them. “This rum tastes sweeter since I’m not having to drink it at my wedding party.”
Solo, jovial and grinning, sat down beside them. “Pass that jug,” he sang.
Red Legs laughed. “You mean you didn’t bring your own?”
“I had one,” the pirate prince said. “Can’t seem to recall where I left it!”
The three dissolved into a fit of drink-heavy giggles. Jack wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Shall we join them?”
I nodded. “We shall.”
As the night wore on, several Black Otter fleet hands from ships that marauded in the waters of the Orient, the English Channel, and along the coast of The New World came onto their flagship to greet Jack and divvy up their amassed booty—and rum.
Several wasted no time in joining the ranks of Tommy and Poison Lightning and passed out on the deck amid the boxes and crates, while others sat up with Charles and Dark Water. Sharing several jugs, they sat together until talk turned to mermaids, The Kraken, and other ominous creatures of the deep.
Red Legs, Solo, and Rusty, about three jugs into the evening, broke into song. Sea shanties echoed over the dark sea as bonfires lit the shoreline.
I laughed from the railing. Though I hadn’t imbibed as much as the others, my body felt warm and fuzzy.
Didn’t I have just the one drink with Jack when we pulled into port?
With my eyes closed, I leaned out over the sea and sucked in the cool breeze that swirled off the waves as my mind pitched and whirled.
Jack’s voice was somewhere. “I’m stepping over to The Revenge to divide up a hefty haul they made in Oriental waters. I’ll be back.” His dry kiss brushed my forehead and I smiled, my eyes still closed.
“I’ll be here,” I slurred. I tapped the steel that hung on my belt. “To protect our schip.”
Jack laughed a monotone, otherworldly laugh. “You best go below decks and sleep it off. We’re safer here than anywhere.”
Jack’s footsteps retreated across the deck. I slunk down against the railing and willed the world to stop spinning. One leg dangling over the side seemed to help. The happy sounds of The Black Otter danced around me and, despite having my eyes closed, I knew all was well. A smile found my lips as I drifted off to sleep.
An odd sound sparked me awake. A quiet grunting, out of place. The singing of sea shanties was no more and the sounds of happy laughter had been replaced by silence. Only the sounds of the sea, lapping at the side of The Black Otter, perhaps beckoning her back out to the deep, remained.
Did I dream that?
I rubbed my eyes. Still, my vision blurred. I closed them again. Another odd grunt jarred me awake.
There it is again!
I pushed myself to my feet. A mess of drunken bodies were strewn across The Black Otter’s deck. I bent slightly and examined each face.
Poison Lightning.
Charles Swan.
Dark Water William.
Solo.
Tommy was curled in a corner, whimpering in his sleep.
Was that the sound I heard? I listened for a moment to Tommy’s whimpers.
