Page 26

I take the stairs two at a time. The rectangular planter on the windowsill is my first stop.

It balances across my elbows as I add smaller pots of thyme, oregano, and basil.

My arms are just long enough to embrace the miniature banana tree.

Damn, I must use my knees to lift the heavy burden.

One hoof then the other. First step. Oh, God, this is taking forever.

Last step. Ouch, damn, glass embeds itself in the sensitive crevice at the center of my hoof.

“Avast ye!” Eze exclaims when I reach the dinghy. He takes the tree and hands it to Greenhorn, who sits with his oars ready.

“Bless you, Flint,” Catty says, reaching for the plants.

“Don’t you bless him! He’s weighing us down and wasting time,” Chub gripes as he takes the plants from my arms. The smaller pots tumble into the dinghy and spray dirt everywhere.

“Let’s drop the craft to the orlop level and give Betts the signal,” Eze says, uncoiling the guide rope from its lock on the railing.

I mimic his movements because, of course, I never thought to learn how to dispatch our emergency boat. Nobody thinks of the worst until it actually happens. The winches complain, but we’re able to control the dinghy’s descent into the water.

Holy Mother! Fronds on the sea bottom wave at me.

Either the water is exceptionally clear, or we’re in shallower surf than I realized.

Maybe we will walk onto the island, dragging the boat behind us.

My nightmares of drowning in the abyss are unfounded.

Maybe everything will be fine, and we will sail another day!

“Ready, Captain!” Eze calls the signal for her to turn the boat. It’s repeated along the ratlines from one end of the boat to the other.

“Bring a spring upon’er!” Betts shouts.

The booms swing as the sails are tilted in a new direction.

The rudder creaks as it scrapes along the bottom.

The back of me gets drenched with spray as we list away from the island in the turn.

The dinghy slams into the hull. Anything not tied down —which is quite a lot because we tossed our metal locks and fittings overboard—goes rolling toward port.

“Drop the dinghy!” Chub shouts.

“Drop the dinghy!” Betts shouts a second later. I doubt she heard him, and I’m strangely comforted that her orders seem to echo his.

Eze lets go of his rope. I do the same. The winches spark with the speed at which their load passes through the fittings.

Chub rocks onto his arse, nestled in a sack of gunpowder.

Catty screams and hugs the banana tree. They land on the surface with a splash.

Greenhorn has his oars moving faster than I thought a man could row while the lines trail after them.

Chub’s short legs and arms flail until he can right himself to collect the trailing rope.

He’s commandeered one of Greenhorn’s oars before my attention is stolen.

“I hope to God they make it,” Eze murmurs.

“Of course they will,” I reply with a gulp. “Chub won’t allow God any other choice.”

The boat heels again and rights herself, sending a wave after the tiny dinghy.

It’s pushed toward the island in pitches and rolls like a horse galloping over the waves.

Catty’s cries and Chub’s curses carry over the wind to haunt those on board.

As I scan the decks and ratlines, I confirm that all eyes are glued to the little boat, willing it ashore with prayers.

If that baby doesn’t make it into the world, it will break more than the parents’ hearts.

Their happiness sustains the whole boat.

“Yaw! Yaw! Yaw back to stern! Bring a spring upon’er!” Betts shouts.

We hear the tenth iteration of the order as it travels from her place at the helm to our spot on the forecastle deck.

The booms swing in the opposite direction as the sails are tilted back to where I had them. The rudder groans as it scrapes along the bottom, ending with a crack. That piece of the boat is lost to the sea. Spray smacks Eze and me in the face as we list in the turn.

Debris hits the back of my knees and threatens to send me overboard as it rolls across the deck.

I’m doubled over the railing and folded in two.

My breath is forced from my lungs. If I fall headfirst, the water isn’t deep enough to catch me.

My skull will be smashed to smithereens.

I stare death in the face. Eze squeals with what’s left in his body.

My strained cries echo in my ears. The boat shares her displeasure in a deep moan.

We list to steady. The deck rights itself. We survived.

Get me the fuck away from this railing. Eze must have the same idea because we push the wood away as if it offended us.

My arse bounces off the deck until I come to a stop next to Eze, who lies flat like a starfish on the beach.

Damn planks hurt as my head hits them, but I’m so grateful not to be in the drink that I don’t care.

We laugh like fools at the bright blue sky.

We get to live another day!

The screams start above us on the ratlines when Gretta is thrown off her perch.

More bodies fly across our vision. An ominous crunching sound precedes the rumbling under us as if a monster chews the bilge below.

I turn my face to check on Betts, but the helm stands higher than the forecastle mast!

She lies with her belly resting on the wheel, slender hand reaching for me through the spokes.

Our boat tilts precariously forward. Water rushes around me. Eze floats five feet away before he realizes he’s no longer anchored on deck. Cracks form across the main deck, toppling the main mast. The Crow’s Nest is launched into the shallows.

The boat breaks into two halves, separating me from my lady love. Her scream reaches my ears just as the sterncastle half slams into the water and disappears beneath the surface.