Page 7

Captain Betts

That no-good Beau Nasty nearly killed us all.

He’s a walking disaster waiting to happen.

Why didn’t I kill him the first night? I’m a failure as a pirate.

Why didn’t I let the flames consume him and save the kitchen?

When I saw him dazed in a ring of fire, I didn’t hesitate to sacrifice my body to save him.

How does he show his appreciation for the rescue?

With his sugar stick poking at my person!

Disgusting, rude, and…and…infuriating! Days later, and I still want to slap him.

Why did I jump to save him? I wish I knew. I could say my reasoning was to keep my crew happy—the arrogant rake has grown on the ratline climbers like a boil…because I allowed him to butter them up with his lies.

Oh, his outrageous lies! The more stories he tells, the less we believe, but somehow even that fault endears him to the crew.

By revealing he is less traveled and worldly than me hearties, he removed the class barrier between us.

Had he really traveled to all those places, they would have dismissed him, along with his fancy clothes and patriarchal views.

If they hadn’t educated him on the pirate code of equality, I would have beheaded him by now.

What will it take for me to do the job I was hired to do?

“All clear in the galley, Captain!” Gretta appears on the sterncastle deck, covered in soot.

She’s a short, portly pirate, but smarter and more tenacious than mateys twice her size.

Usually, she’s in the Crow’s Nest or learning the cannons, but I tasked her with helping Catty clear the charred floorboards from the galley.

The job took a few days, but we didn’t need the extra weight of the charred floor aboard.

“Thank you for helping, Gretta,” I reply, leaving the wheel to follow her gaze to the portside rail.

Everyone aboard has their eyes glued to the little bump on the horizon.

I didn’t realize how much the crew was squirreling for a prize.

Teeth handed me the boat with the intention of running a ferry or courier service.

He and Sabs didn’t believe I’d succeed in the sweet trade because I’m a rule follower.

I was, but I’ve grown from Bettina the Church Mouse into Captain Betts.

Will a life on the straight and narrow be enough for the crew?

Will it be enough for who I have become?

Is it fair for me to turn the boat from the sweet trade when pirooting’s what they signed on to do? We need the other boat’s tar to patch our hull, grog to drink, and now, new planks for the galley. Hell, I bet the son of a biscuit eater scorched the flour! We need this prize more than ever.

“Gretta, Gretta, I love how you address me by my name. After so many years of just being the Bearded Lady , you have no idea how wonderful it is to be seen. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.

” She spins with her arms wide like a young girl.

I can almost picture her in a sundress with ribbons in her hair.

Renewed hatred for the men who stole her innocence boils in my heart.

“Those sideshow owners were monsters. I’ll never forgive them for caging you and my sister.

They nearly suffocated her in a dirty tank—” I shiver as I recall my sister’s kraken form chained and broken in a tank of murky water.

That’s why I never chained Hybris in the hull.

I couldn’t live with myself if I put that lifeless, hopeless expression on someone’s face.

I’d rather keelhaul him…which I can’t seem to do either.

“Until you saved us all,” she says, crossing the sterncastle deck to join me at the railing. “We’re so grateful to you for giving us a home and a purpose beyond serving as amusement for mean people. You could have saved Sabrina and left, but the crew opened its arms and welcomed all of us.”

“That’s what Patricia’s Wish is about,” I say, reaching for the spyglass on my belt.

“We include everyone, whether they are rich, poor, or Other . When I lost my tentacles, I was as lost as you. Returning to the sea wasn’t an option—I’d drown.

Sabrina had Teeth, so she didn’t need me.

It’s always been just us. Without her, I had nobody. ”

“But now you have us,” she says, wrapping her meaty arms around my shoulders. “We are at your beck and call.”

“Don’t go that far. This boat gives everyone a voice,” I reply with a nervous giggle.

“In fact, we need a vote on what to do about that.” I hand her my spyglass and point to the blob on the horizon.

Her eyes widen as she stares at the instrument.

My cheeks ache with my wide smile as I offer it to her again.

“A ship? A prize? Are you considering taking it? Really?” She bounces on her toes, knocking the spyglass against her freshly shaved cheek.

“Want to ring the bell? I think we need a vote.” A smirk twists my lips.

Her enthusiasm is infectious. Confidence builds in my chest as she dances around the helm.

Her world is about to change. I hope she doesn’t lose her innocence when the boat brings violence back into her life.

If the sideshow owners couldn’t break her, let’s hope the sweet trade won’t.

The meeting bell clangs in an irregular rhythm.

Catty and Chub emerge from the kitchen with soot upon their cheeks.

The group from the forecastle deck traverses its way to the main deck, with Hybris lagging behind.

For once, the no-good fireship has the decency to keep his eyes downcast. As I lock eyes on the sword in Greenhorn’s hands as he emerges from the weaponry room below, I’m struck with the responsibility of a possible boarding.

What am I to do with Hybris during the battle?

Maybe I’ll send him over the gangplank first in hopes that some trigger-happy merchant with impeccable aim takes him out for me.

“Sail ho!” I yell the announcement to drum up excitement about the boat on the horizon. I must feed off their energy to maintain my composure.

The crew pumps their fists in the air and cheers.

I can guess how this vote will go. Not one rational thought in the sea of pudding-heads.

They are excited to be the pirates they’ve heard about on the continent.

The governors must paint us as villains in their stories to justify the slavers’ ships and their deplorable practices.

Instead of telling the colonists that pirates liberate people doomed to a fate worse than death, the reports say we kill innocent merchants and steal property .

The way those landlubbers assume that everyone different from them is property ignites a fire in my breast. My lip curls into a scowl as Hybris picks the wrong moment to lock eyes with me.

“There’s a pretty prize off our port side.

She’s our size but riding low in the water—just as we like’em—slow due to her heavy burden.

Chub and I agree our first battle won’t be pretty.

They may end up boarding us. But numbers-wise, we’re evenly matched.

Same boat model means the same number of cannons and, probably, crew. ”

“But they’re hired hands, not hearties! We fight with full hearts for our Captain Betts!” Someone yells from the crowd. The crew responds with an affirmative chorus of shouts and grunts.

“Not so fast,” Chub yells, waving his arms to quiet the crew.

“You run in there like a youth’s first visit to a whorehouse, and you’ll get us all killed.

Are you prepared to listen to orders and control the passion threatening to rip your heart from your chest?

Are you prepared to wait for Captain’s signal to turn the sails, to fire, and to drive the boat to victory, even when you burn to slice their gobs from their necks?

Most conflicts are psychological—using what’s in our heads instead of using our heads for targets, savvy?

We don’t board until they wave the white flag of surrender.

Do you trust Captain Betts to lead the charge? ”

Chub winces at the roars of affirmation.

Yeah, they have no clue. The one prize I witnessed Chub and Teeth take changed me.

I killed three navy soldiers because they threatened to deflower me in the most unholy manner—up my windward passage.

Survival wrapped the cat-o’-nine tails in my hand around their necks like a tentacle and squeezed the life from them.

Last night, the proposal of this prize brought those soldiers to my nightmares.

How many former sideshow performers will wake up screaming the night after our victory?

And we will be victorious. There is no other option.

“Bunch of unlicked, empty-headed simpletons,” Chub says with no heat. The crew laughs at his assessment, but I must agree.

“I’ll do everything in my power to keep this a ship’s battle until we see that white flag, but you must harden your heart to the possibility of hand-to-hand combat—”

“Then we’ll gut them like fish,” someone shouts. It’s probably Greenhorn because our master of swords waves a blade over his head.

Not helping. He’s been with the boat since Teeth inherited it from Magda and Branko, so I hoped he’d be a voice of reason.

He’s survived countless battles. However, he was a child when they weighed anchor from the mysterious island of rescued slaves.

He may be experienced, but his youth is showing—like his ankles in the linen pants he grew out of years ago.

I meet gazes with every excited face in the crowd.

Can I lead them to victory? Am I strong enough to temper the hearts of young and inexperienced pirates?

If not this battle, when? We’re bound to have a first battle eventually—and a last battle too—so am I delaying our destiny?

What if there are slaves in need of rescue on that boat?

The crew sees a bounty of gold and spices.

Chub sees the practical treasures of fresh water and fruit, but I see people liberated by boats like ours as the real treasures.

I owe it to the unknown faces below their deck to take this prize, even if it’s one woman kept aboard as a doxie to pleasure the sailors.

She will be welcomed onto our boat as a full-share, with a vote and voice.

She will be given the choice to remain a doxie—although no woman ever does—or to learn another trade.

Regardless, I know my lads will teach her to read, write, and fence…

like they did with the sideshow performers.

“I, Captain Betts, put a motion to the crew to take that merchant vessel off our port in three days’ time—the estimated travel between the boats. Anyone second?”

I look at Chub, but he folds his arms over his chest. He’s not happy and is doing a piss poor job hiding it.

Catty is pregnant, and Chub wants to protect his growing family.

In the short time I’ve known him, he’s become a grouchy papa bear.

It’s not that he doesn’t think we can take it—he’s told me this is a fair fight in confidence.

It’s just that he wanted to leave the boat before we turned our cheek back to the sweet trade.

His priorities have shifted from the projected growth of the boat— and me—to what’s best for his baby…

as he should. The crew is my responsibility.

“I second!” Eze steps forward and pounds his chest with his fist.

Chub sighs and rings the bell with the drama of an island debutant whose dress was splashed at the beach. “All in favor of taking the merchant vessel in three days' time, give your aye!”

“Aye!” thunders from the rigging to the stairs leading to the orlop deck.

“All who oppose taking this prize because there will be plenty more when we’ve got more supplies and skill. We don’t have to take this one because boats traverse the Caribbean like the arms of a clock dance around its face—”

“What he means is all opposed shout your nye!” I finish for a red-faced Chub.

“Nye!” He yells before shooting a glare at his silent, pregnant wife.

“Shoot your fire elsewhere,” she snaps when the crew turns to her with their jaws on the deck. “I’ve got weeks before I’ll need a midwife. Besides, I know me hearties will protect me—” she pauses to allow the crew to cheer “—because they know they’ll starve if I keel over.”

“Your arse will be deep in the bilge where they’ve no chance at finding you, or I’ll paddle it black and blue—”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, dear husband,” she says with her eyelashes fluttering obnoxiously. The crew breaks out into giggles, jeers, and shouts.

“That woman will be the death of me,” Chub gripes with a wry smirk on his lips. “If one of you crackpots doesn’t shoot my arse on accident, my heart will give out with the danger to my lady love!”

“The ayes have it,” I announce. “We’ve today to tear up this deck and ready the cannon stations.

I want the main deck planks reinstalled in the galley—good and proper—so it lasts.

We’ll replace the main deck with the planks from that boat!

” I point at the bubble on the horizon in three tugs on the last three words.

Chub smears his hands down his bacon face as the crew pulls the planks from under their own feet.

Avast ye! Several of them tumble into the cannon galley below.

I hope nobody’s injured, but from the screams they emitted as they fell…

I bet I have a half-dozen wounds to patch.

I jump onto the rim at the rail before the floor is stolen beneath my boots.

“Greenhorn! Greenhorn!” I call over the melee of my squirrelly crew. “Take Hybris to the ship’s stores and make sure he knows the arse from the pointy end of a sword. Use the wooden practice ones!”

While I hope to rid myself of the menace within the battle, I’m not so heartless that I plan to send him into the fray untrained.

“Aye, aye, Captain!” calls my master of swords. “Come on, Flint!”

The brightness on Hybris’s face makes my skin crawl.

My treacherous crew gave him a nickname.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize the kitchen fire endeared him to them and made him human.

Well, if he thinks he’s joining this crew, he’s got another thing coming.

The last thing I need is to capture one of his father’s boats with him still aboard.

Hell has no fury like a man tricked by a woman.

Whether by sword, fire, or the briny deep, Hybris must die in three days.