Page 27

Betts

I held onto the helm as long as I could. A captain goes down with her ship, so I rode the wheel all the way to the bottom of the sea. One minute I’m reaching for Flint, and the next I’m tumbling in the riptide. The last time I lost control under the waves, I had gills.

My instincts scream at me to calmly open my gills and allow the ocean water to feed my air-starved body…

but I’m human. I choke and cough as saltwater fills all the tubes and sacks within me.

Coral and splintered planks scrape my limbs and back, threatening to steal my clothes.

My hair tangles in debris and around boulders that hold me under like an anchor.

I can’t die. Not here. Not now.

Gathering my hair in one hand and yanking my short sword from my waist, I slice off my red tresses in one large arc.

Happy with my sacrifice, the sea pushes me to the surface and carries me to the shore.

My mind winks in and out of consciousness as pain wakes me every time I pass out.

I roll over shards of shells and balls of seaweed until I slam into an unmovable mass of…

“Chub?”

“She’s alive!” Shouts my quartermaster.

The answering cheers pierce my brain and bring up what I collected into my stomach from the seafloor.

“I’ve counted heads,” Greenhorn says as he drags me to my feet. Damn, why are there three of him? Is it my eyes or my brain that’s addled? “We’re missing Gunter, Iyla, and Flint. What should we do first?”

What do they do? What should we do? What is first? The question rearranges itself in my head, but I still can’t make heads or tails of it. What’s wrong with me? Oh, here we go again!

I bend at the waist and throw up a second time.

It’s mostly saltwater…but I think that fish is still alive.

Yep, it’s flopping around. Definitely have fish living in me.

Naturally, I’m a kraken. Nope…not anymore…

my arm pinches and I drop to my hands and knees.

I grab the sand in handfuls and release it to ground myself.

Breathe deeply through my lungs…yes…lungs…

because I’m human. I have lungs, and for some reason, I survived.

Why did I fight to live?

For him…Flint….born Hybris…claimed as Flint….

Images of him lying on the deck in a daze flood my mind.

I reached for him. He smiled at me…that smile when he’s pleased to see me.

Not the teasing one, the genuine one that tells me he loves me.

Really loves me…and all my prickly moods and difficult attitudes.

Why isn’t he comforting me? Where is he?

Oh…Greenhorn’s report makes sense and doesn’t at the same time.

“Flint isn’t on the beach?” I half ask, half say.

A cry of agony rings in my ears. My heart must be devastated. Wait, I didn’t make that noise…

“Captain, Catalina needs to go. We must get her to Chevelle’s hut. Her baby’s time is now,” says Eze. Were his eyes always that wide? He must be scared…scared for Catalina…Catty!

“I think she hit the daylights out of her head. Take Catty to the witch. I’m needed here if we’re to find Flint, Ilya, and Gunter,” Chub says as he swims from my vision.

“Flint’s not on the beach,” I repeat. “Catty needs the witch.”

“Avast ye! You’re as worthless as legs on a fish,” Chub grouses.

“Eze go! And if my family isn’t in perfect condition when we’re reunited, you'd better disappear. I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth—that witch, too.

You tell her. She may have the spirits on her side, but I’m not scared of them.

I will bring death and destruction to this island, the likes of which would make the devil take heed. Do you understand me?”

“No need,” Eze says. “What if Greenhorn and you go to the witch? I can handle this.”

“I thought you were in a tizzy to reunite with the villagers. You’ll abandon their rescue efforts once I’m out of sight,” Chub says, wagging his finger. My eyes follow it until my insides churn again. Luckily, I’m empty.

“I can’t abandon my current family for my past,” Eze says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You have my word as a pirate; I’ll be here when you return.”

“That may not be enough,” Chub murmurs. He mumbles something to Eze that I miss. The rest of their conversation fades into the fog consuming my brain.

“Avast ye, lassie, you’ve got to recover your wits, and fast,” Chub yells into my face. He’s stooped to my level to place his bacon face in my view. “Your pupils shrink when I move, so your brain isn’t permanently addled.” He shakes his head as he stands again.

“She needs a drink or three,” Chub says with his hand clasping Eze’s shoulder. “First cask of grog to hit the shores. First one. Crack it open and dunk her head into it…and don’t mention Flint again. Unless he walks out of the foam like Venus, she’s not to know.”

“Aye! Aye! Quartermaster!” Eze yells at an ear-splitting volume. “But, sir, who is Venus?”

“Blimey, so much empty space must be in your melon head,” Chub says, nudging me with his knee. “Recover, Captain…and that’s an order.”

I try to give him a smile and a wave, but the result is a little crazed.

He shakes his head and pulls the cart away, revealing a pile of sacks untouched by the sea.

How are they dry? How did Chub get a cart ashore?

Did he use it to pull Catalina? Why were there so many plants in the cart with Catalina?

Are they important? Do we worship them? Visions of Chub swimming ashore, dragging a cart of trees, make me giggle.

“I found Gretta,” Hash announces over my head. She moans as her body is laid next to me in the sand. “What are orders?”

He’s talking to me, isn’t he?

“Bring the injured to Captain Betts and gather the able-bodied. We must recover the sails for tents, or we’ll have nowhere to shelter the injured from the bugs. Once the sun goes down, the bugs will be attracted to the blood and try to eat us alive,” replies Eze.

Wait, there’s more to this! There was something important…some reason why we had to enter the island by the river…a reason why we had to cast anchor before sunset…Flint knew… If I can find Flint, he will tell me what’s so important about daylight. It wasn’t the bugs.

“Whoa there,” Eze says as I wobble into his embrace. “Let’s not try walking or standing until you’re saying words, yeah? Words first, then things that make you a fall risk.”

“Where’s Flint?”

“You heard Chub…I’m not to say…besides, I couldn’t if I wanted to because I haven’t seen him since the crash.”

Shiver Me Timbers! Where’s Flint?

Flint

There’s the railing again. Right in the gut.

Our next boat will have taller or shorter railings, either one, as long as they’re not at my gut level.

I couldn’t even hang onto the blasted thing when the boat snapped in half.

A wave decided I should be smacked against it repeatedly, as if Mother Nature took her turn beating me for my past sins.

Eze floated above me on the surface as if an invisible force carried him home.

Probably the spirit of his mother, who died defending this beach.

Lucky bastard.

I breached the surface with a barrel of apples.

Clinging to the parcel for dear life, I swim aimlessly in circles, looking for signs of Betts.

I wish my eyesight were better. As more mateys gather on the shore, my hopes soar that one of them is her.

The waist-length red hair is hard to miss.

Until I see it waving like the sun’s flag, I’ll have to assume she’s still trapped under the ship’s wheel—except the ship’s wheel now stands about twenty feet above the water’s surface.

I surmise the crew was thrown from the boat when it tipped forward. Then, when the boat split in half, the two halves righted themselves in water shallower than the boat’s height. Now I’m down here with the lower deck’s spoils, while the helm, where I last saw my lady love, towers above me.

What would Magda do? Fry in the waning sunlight.

What would Teeth do? Hmmm, he was an opportunist at heart.

Inspired by my apple barrel, I might as well use the bits of floating rope and torn sails to tie together buoyant supplies.

When the crew on the shore finds me, they will find a bounty of stuff to survive on the beach.

Betts will beam with pride.

Bag of bandages from the infirmary? Don’t mind if I do.

Limes floating free from the galley? I’ll take those, and thanks for the empty gunpowder sack to contain them.

Look! There’s one of Magda’s journals! Is that her first one?

It must have floated free from my bunk! The orlop deck would be exposed since the boat snapped in two.

Are there any of me hearties’ treasures around here?

I vaguely remember Eze yelling for everyone to grab their valuables when he rang the alarm bell.

I didn’t stop for stuff when Betts needed me, and I doubt many of them grabbed their—See?

There are pages from Greenhorn’s sketchbook.

That pearly hairbrush belongs to Gunter.

My collection has grown to two large sails rolled into ropes and stuffed with treasures tied to two apple barrels, the sterncastle railing for a frame, and the bed from the infirmary.

I almost have enough to make a raft. As I wrap abandoned personal effects in the sails, my mind drifts back to what Betts prized most. She loved Sabrina most, and by the Gods, I’d love for those squirrely kraken to show up right now.

Oh right. She also had her box of treasures in the captain’s quarters.

Her room and the navigation room were locked tight, so they should still be sealed under the sea.

If I can step in quickly, I bet I can seal myself in there.

“Take mercy on me,” Gunter croaks. He’s lying on a large piece of forecastle deck. It’s wide enough that he can lie flat and distribute his weight. It’s quite genius.

“Gunter, old friend,” I cheer.

He raises his head. Tears stream down his face.