“You already knew that, yet you tried anyway, didn’t you?” The red ring came to my vision and every ounce of anger I’d pushed down; losing Jack to losing my daughter; to almost losing my life, came to flaming fruition. “So it’s only right that we honor his legacy.”

Dark Water’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack.

“Red Legs? It’s time we keelhauled Dark Water William.”

“Yes, Captain.” Red Legs didn’t change expression as he trussed up the tall African and prepared him for the horrific death that awaited him.

Dark Water, however, did. His coffee eyes bulged and a strange sound strangled in his throat. “No, Miss Red. You can’t kill me. You don’t have it in you.”

I ignored his pleas. “Witches kill all the time, wouldn’t you agree Swan?”

Charles Swan ignored me.

Poison Lightning stepped up and looked me squarely in the eye. “Poison Lightning help Red.”

He has been waiting a long time for this.

I nodded. “Nail Swan to the deck, feet only. Long nails. He can listen while we keelhaul his lover.”

Red Legs dragged Dark Water to the side of the boat. He fought and kicked, but it was no use. In a succession of quick knots, the condemned was tied to the rope that was looped beneath The Black Otter. Behind us, Poison Lightning carried out his task to the tune of glass-shattering shrieks from Charles Swan.

“What’s keelhaul?” Rusty appeared at my elbow. Her face was screwed up in horrific planes. “What’s going to happen to him?”

I couldn’t look at her. Not yet. “That rope that runs under The Black Otter there, it is what we use when we dock. Someone has to go down and clean off the barnacles and such. Barnacles are very, very sharp. But today, it’s going to bring death to Mr. William.”

“Miss Red, please—” Dark Water’s pleading words were such that I knew he would say anything to spare his life. “You are not a killer. Or a witch.”

I unsheathed my sword and pointed it at his chest. “You tried to kill me when Blackbeard attacked. You were going to kill me if you had the chance when you and Swan tried to mutiny. And what’s worse—”

Red tinged my vision again and the words slid over my teeth in a hiss.

“You were going to leave Jack to hang like a dog.”

I ignored his tears that fell as I approached him. Red Legs stepped back when the last knot attaching Dark Water to the keelhaul rope was tied. I tossed my sword to Solo.

“You’re a coward, Dark Water. Die a coward’s death.” I drew back my arms and shoved him hard. Dark Water William, arms and legs bound and tied to the keelhaul rope, fell into the water with a blubbering shriek.

I spit where he fell then turned my attention to Red Legs. “Much obliged.” I held out my hand for the rope. “But I’ll carry out his punishment. You don’t have to.”

Red Legs nodded and surrendered the rope.

I walked the side of the ship to the bow, pulling Dark Water against the ship beneath me.

He was going to kill me.

I continued to the other side and pushed the thoughts of how long it had been since the submerged portion of The Black Otter had been cleaned out of my mind.

He and Swan were going to rape Monica Joan.

I tried not to think of how sharp the barnacles must be.

He was going to leave Jack to hang.

He was right. I’m no monster. I took pity on the African and began to run.

“You’re merciful to gift him a quick death, you are,” Tommy said. “But dead he still is, he is.”

In a mere pass or two across the deck of the ship, there was no more resistance against the rope. Dark Water William was dead.

I dropped the rope and, huffing for breath, turned to Charles. Blood pooled around his feet and he stood, awkwardly on our blacker than black deck. “Your britches are soaked through, Charles. I see that you’ve wet yourself.”

I didn’t wait for an answer. “Solo, keep watch to make sure we weren’t followed.” I pointed my blade at Charles Swan. “And you. Planned on leaving Jack to hang. The man who told me that you were of the most loyal on the sea. You deserve a fate worse than death.”

The fleeting thought of beating him to death as he stood, immobile, flashed in my mind. I’d heard of it being done before in Oriental waters, by a madame turned pirate queen.

“You had good in you, remember when I tossed you my steel to save your life when Blackbeard attacked? I was at your mercy and we both knew it—” The red ring was back. “You could have chosen a better way. Instead, here you are. Breathing your last.”

Charles whimpered. What hair was left on his head was hanging in his face. Nobody moved to help him tidy it.

“Cannonballs attached to the legs before being tossed overboard, like China Joe had done to me, or being made to walk the plank.”

The burst of anger I’d felt before fizzled into numbness. Jack was hanging in a gibbet and I was set to sleep alone. Until the pirate hunters caught up to me, too.

I looked at Red Legs. “I just wanted to be done.”

He dipped his head in a knowing nod. “Shall I?”

“No. I will.” I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Solo, my sword!”

Solo jogged back from where he’d been standing watch. “Here you are, Cap.” He tossed it to me easily.

Without Charles Swan nor I speaking another word, I put the mousey mutineer out of his misery.

Tommy’s voice rang out. “Shall I sink them? I can do it well, I can. Cannonball tied to each will sink them both quite fine, it will.”

The moon hung, bright and silver, over the distant horizon. Moonbeams reflected off the gentle North Atlantic waves. Any other night, Jack and I would be at the helm, holding each other, in the cool of the evening before retreating below decks to get lost in each other’s embrace. Tonight, I was alone. And I was a killer.

Nothing was tranquil anymore.

“Yes, Tommy. Throw the traitors overboard. But don’t waste a cannonball on them. Let them float.”

I heard Tommy gasp. By not sinking the dead, I was condemning them to an afterlife where they would find no peace. No rest. Everyone killed at sea, no matter how bad they were, received the blessing of being sunk. Like Catholics, receiving the Last Rites.

But I wasn’t a priest and I wasn’t going to extend any kindness to mutineers, not to Charles and not to Dark Water. They would receive no sympathy from me in this life nor the one to come.

“Solo,” I called. “Can I see you for a moment? In the wheelhouse.” I didn’t look at Tommy, who stood open-mouthed, as I stomped by.

I reached the wheelhouse first. Solo stepped in behind me. “What can I—”