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—”
My mouth was a hard line as I began fidgeting with my belt.
“Red, what are you—” Solo sputtered, looked away, and immediately stepped back out.
Typical man.
I ignored his hesitance and yanked off my belt and blade. “Here, Solo.”
A look of astonishment replaced his nervous façade. “Red, I don’t understand.”
I tried to smile, but it was futile. “I’m not running this outfit without Jack.” I held my belt and blade out to him. “So I’m turning it over to you.”
Solo accepted my sword and turned it over in his hands. He sucked in a deep breath and pursed his lips before he dared look at me. “Was there any way to bust him out, Red?”
The silence grew louder and filled the space between us in the cramped wheelhouse. I shook my head. “I don’t know. But I know I have to try. I couldn’t try anything on shore, because I couldn’t risk Rusty getting captured.”
Solo nodded. “Was there really a trap?”
“Yes. And so many men guarding the gibbet. I can’t figure a way to get to Jack, but I’ll have plenty of time to figure if out—” I glanced at my friend. “If you’ll be so kind as to lend me the rowboat tonight. If I go to shore under the cover of darkness, maybe there’s a chance.”
