“Like I said, I couldn’t see any way of my getting out alive, or you getting in alive. So to look forward to being rescued, or finding a way out, was too much.”

My head hung on its own. You’re a failure Red. Jack needed you, you let him down.

Jack, though, paid me no mind. “So instead of wishing in vain for any hope of getting out alive, I focused my attentions on other things.”

“Like what?”

Jack leaned back against the railing of the balcony. “I tried to keep each moment as comfortable as possible. When I came to an uncomfortable moment, or moments, I looked forward to when it would be comfortable again.”

“What was it like, Jack?”

The picture Jack painted in my mind was a vivid one, full of sights, smells, sounds, and feelings. With each word, I wished he would say no more, while still praying that he would go on.

“What I didn’t account for was the spinning.”

I must have looked confused.

“When they hoisted me up on the yardarm, my comfort was the last thing on their mind. Actually, the least comfortable I was, the better, in their eyes.” A slow smile spread his lips into a wide smile. “From the moment they hoisted me up, I was spinning. There was nothing I could do to stop it. Reach out, stick out a leg, nothing. I vomited twice and immediately regretted it. But when I looked down—” Jack visibly shuddered. “Once the gibbet finally stopped spinning, I realized how hot it was. The sun reflecting off the waves below me. Oh, the metal. It didn’t take long for it to get too hot to touch. And you know as well as I—”

I wanted to hold him. I wanted to take away these horrible memories that I failed to save him from. I wanted to fix it all. But instead, I stood quietly and let him continue.

Jack twiddled his thumbs. “When you get hot, you get thirsty. I tried to ignore that at first and concentrate on when the next breeze would blow through and give me a little respite. They didn’t come as often as I would have liked.”

“There I was, crammed in that little hot, iron coffin. Couldn’t stand up, couldn’t sit down. So I crouched the only way I would fit. When the sun set and that first cold, damp chill set in, I thought I was hallucinating when I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“The Molly Maiden when she sailed into port, her flag fluttering.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“I couldn’t pay much attention to what Captain Bon was doing, even though I had a pretty good view from where I hung. By then, the birds had taken a liking to me, thanks to the vomit. And let me tell you, when your throat aches from thirst and your bones shake from cold, fighting piercing beaks through metal slats is even more miserable. And damned near impossible.”

Jack caught my chin in his hand. “Don’t look so downcast, my love. This story has a happy ending.”

I nodded and tried to smile.

“I was fighting off the birds, incessant bastards that they are, when I heard it. Down below. Bon hadn’t come to procure more girls like I’d figured was a happy coincidence. Instead, Irish Bon and the girls of The Molly Maiden were involved in an absolute massacre—and they had the upper hand.”

I thought back to when we took The Black Otter back from China Joe. The way Rhodesia sauntered onto my captured ship and took control of some of the most ruthless men on the sea, with nothing but what God gave her between her legs and a simple dagger, and my lips flickered upward. “They can be quite cunning, can’t they?”

Jack nodded. “It wasn’t until Bon began sawing at the yardarm that I realized they were in port to do more than just restock supplies and pick up fresh girls or whatever macabre they found themselves—she was there for me.”

My heart slapped against the inside of my chest. As much as I hated this story, now I wanted—no, needed—Jack to continue.

“The men kept coming, and the girls kept taking them out. Each one of them topless, like their flag. Quite the distraction down below, I’m sure.”

Angel-Arse Hazel.

“Bon was sawing away. I was excited at first, until I heard it. The crack from the gibbet arm when it cracked was like nothing I’d ever heard before. Praise God Almighty that Bon knew what she was doing when she began her enterprise down below. Had I fallen the other way, toward the land, our story would have had a very different outcome.” Jack offered me a wink. “But Irish Bon always has a trick, or a card, damn her, up her sleeve. Before I knew it, I was falling, falling, through the nighttime darkness in a metal coffin. That feeling was terror, close as I’ve ever felt. When I hit, I hit the sea. Hard.”

I closed my eyes, but it did nothing to block out Jack’s vivid description of his jailbreak. Trying to put myself in Jack’s place, to live through this horror with him, was too much for me. I shook the thoughts away.

“I sucked in a deep breath before I hit but had no idea how long I’d have to hold it. Figured I might drown in that metal frame before Bon could figure out how to fish me out. But if I was going to go down, I was going to fight to the last breath, literally.” Jack shrugged off the recent memory as though the hellish experience had only been a story, meant to be told to entertain and then go on your way.

“Anyway, someone grabbed a hold of the rope that had held me aloft and they started to reel me in. Like a fish.” He smiled that bright, handsome smile that erased the years and made my heart flutter. “I didn’t learn who it was until I got on deck and out of the irons.”

I tried not to let the smile dampen.

Angel Arse Hazel. No doubt.

“When I finally stood up, I was on the deck of The Molly Maiden and we’d already set out to sea. You can imagine my surprise when I saw a man’s face hovering about.”

“A man?” My brows knitted across my brow. “I’d never figured Bon to take a man aboard.”

“Me neither.” Jack peered intently into my face. “His name was Captain Daniel Johnstone. Does that sound familiar to you?”

I thought for a moment. “Actually yes. That does sound familiar. Who is he?”

“He was the fiancé of Monica Joan.” Jack’s face softened. “The letter that was addressed to him, Bon promised to post it.”

“I remember!”

Jack nodded. “She kept her word. Which isn’t surprising, especially since she made the promise to you.”

I dared a peek at Jack through my watery eyes, searching his face for any sign of sarcasm, or jealousy. Of course, I found none. “The letter reached him. And it was he who reeled me in like an anchor.”

I clapped my hands over my mouth and made no attempt to hide the surge of emotion. I couldn’t have hidden it even if I had tried. “Oh Jacky.”

Jack stroked the side of my face with his thumb. “He found Bon and came aboard. He offered to join up with The Black Otter fleet. In Monica Joan’s honor.”

A veil of tears blurred my vision.

“She wrote about you. Daniel said, ‘I must meet this Redella’.”

Sentiment knotted my tongue. “Bon?” I sniffed back tears. “How is she?”

Jack’s eyes were soft. “I figured you’d ask after her, just like she asked after you.”

I studied my husband’s face and listened to his words. There was no jealousy there, anywhere.

“All for Redella, Bon told me as I lay sputtering on her deck. But she didn’t stop there. She loves you, she said, and anyone Back from the Dead Red loves doesn’t deserve to hang like a dog.”

A strange emotion weighted my happiness. Nostalgia, perhaps?

Jack continued. “I got a bit emotional myself. I grabbed Irish Bon up, once she busted me out of my metal coffin. I twirled her around the whole of the deck.” He chuckled to himself. “Half figured her to stab me in the back, but she didn’t. Thankfully.”

I shook my head. The image of Jack twirling Irish Bon anywhere was a laughable one. “I bet she gave you a cussing.”