Page 27

Twenty-Seven

S hrug fussed all the way back to the town about not getting any pig. I was running scenarios through my head. Looking for a way to ditch Shrug, find Marco, and prevent Mortas from accomplishing his evil deeds.

Caiyan’s order to go home irked me almost as much as the disturbing thing I’d discovered. How dare he tell—no, order —me to go home. I’d leave when I was good and ready.

A hound-sized rat scurried across the foot path. I leaped toward Shrug with a squeal I can only describe as pig-like.

“I’ll git ’em.” Shrug aimed his gun at the rat, blasted off a shot, and took out a scrubby tree branch. The rat was long gone.

“Don’t fret, witch. There’s plenty more of ’em where we’re goin’. We can catch one for supper.”

Maybe I’d be good and ready sooner than later.

When we came to a fork in the road, I dug in my heels. One way led to the beach. The other led to my plantation prison. “I’m not leaving without my manservant.”

Shrug pointed his rifle at me. “Ye go where the cap’n ordered yerself.”

The aroma of burnt carcass floated up from the left fork.

“I bet that pig’s almost done cooking. Be a real shame to waste it. Why, we could take it to the plantation. Have a feast while we wait for Captain Smith to return.” I batted my eyelashes and added a lot of southern slather in my accent.

Shrug stopped and sniffed the air. “Mayhaps, we take the pig wit’ us.”

My idea, but making him think it was his worked, too.

Men scurried along the beach, loading supplies into their rowboats and rowing back to their ships with gusto. The hope of sinking the English spurred them onward.

In the distance, Max and Rowan were already climbing the ropes to the Sea Storm .

We found Ace turning a fat pig over a fire. A mango was wedged between its jaws and sad, empty eyes stared at me. My stomach did a tipsy-turvy, and I swallowed hard to control it.

Ace’s eyes lit up when he saw us. “’Ello, puppets. What’s yer pleasure? I’ve got bacon, ham, and the best pork chops this side of Tortuga.” He paused when he saw my face. “Ye look a bit green about the gills. What’s going on, love?”

“We’re here for the pig,” Shrug announced, licking his chapped lips and sliding his rifle strap over his shoulder.

Ace bent down close to my ear. “Me pirate escort dashed off when they saw the ships in the distance. I didn’t know if I should wait or make a go for it.”

“Rogers arrived earlier than I expected. And we need to— You know.” I jerked my head toward Shrug, who was busy cutting a bite off the pig rump to check the degree of doneness.

“Brilliant. I’ll get the rope. Annie Oakley, you’re in charge of the gun.”

* * *

I helped Ace row us out to the Ranger . I pulled hard on the oars and gave the beach one last look. “Do you think Shrug will escape before he’s cooked?”

Ace grunted as he pulled his paddles through the white-capping ocean. “Eventually, the grease from the pig’ll make it easier for him to squeeze out of the ropes. But with all that white lace and ruffles, he’ll have a hard time convincing his mates to help ’im.

Shrug, now wearing my white frilly dress and red stilettos, lay tied on top of the pig rotating over the spit. Dousing the fire to a slow burn was a difficult decision, but I didn’t want to cause him any permanent harm.

“Did I have to leave my stilettos?”

“You’re pretending to be a man, they clash.” Ace huffed. “Now, row.”

Shrug’s rifle lay next to me, and I’d stolen his clothes. They fit me, sort of. I tucked a loose strand of hair under Shrug’s hat, tightened the kerchief around my neck to hide my key, and sniffed. “Do I smell bad?”

“Hon, you smell like a teenage boy’s sweaty soccer socks.” Ace angled the boat toward the Ranger . “Help me row, or I’m throwing you overboard.”

I adjusted my oar, pulled hard, and prayed Shrug didn’t have lice or any other affliction I couldn’t cure with antibiotics.

By the time we reached Vane’s ship, the sun sat on the horizon like a giant fireball, carpeting the sea in oranges and pinks. We managed to sneak aboard through the shadows of the ship. The twelve-gun sloop wasn’t as large as the Sea Storm , but Vane had trained the crew, and their scruples leaned toward kill first and ask questions later.

I followed Ace down into the hold. Marco sat with his back against a barrel. A white shirt hung on him like an older brother’s hand-me-down. He’d dropped, at my guess, at least ten pounds and looked like he’d been dragged through the pig fire. Chains cuffed his wrists and ankles. His eyes opened wide when we got close enough for him to recognize us.

“Bloody ’ell, would ya look at what’s left of ’im,” Ace said in a rather ominous tone. “He’s a fright for sore eyes.”

Sailors worked not too far from us, so I put a finger to my lips.

“Go home,” Marco growled. “I have a plan.”

The men in my life sounded like the gypsy’s parrot, telling me to go home. It was rather annoying.

I pointed to his chains. My tone deadly serious. “Your plan fails, and you get dead.”

His mouth pulled into a stubborn line.

“We need to get the ’ell out of here.” Ace glanced nervously at the men stacking cannonballs next to each gun.

“I can’t leave.” Marco ran a hand through his disgusting hair matted with dirt and something that looked like bird shit. His chains clinked with his movement. “You don’t understand.”

“I do understand.” I knelt next to him. “You sent me.”

“That’s right, doll.” Ace squatted down to have a look at Marco’s chains. “You sent us a box with your bloody obituary.”

“No, I would never…” He paused.

“Well, you haven’t sent the obituary, yet.”

“I’d never put you in danger. Risk your life to save me. It’s a mistake.” Marco huffed.

“We can discuss semantics later. First, we have to get these chains off.” I reached for his hand. He grabbed my wrist, stopping my inspection of his cuffs.

He pulled his shirt open.

“I can’t leave.”

My eyes trailed up the open front of his shirt. His chest was bronze, but his neck was bare—a vacationer’s tan without the vacation.

“Where’s your key?”

“Vane took it. He threatened to kill me unless I gave it up. I used the story about the treasure so he’d keep me around. Said he’ll give it back to me after I take him to the loot. I can’t leave. Sasha’s on the Lark with?—”

“Mortas.” Ace finished.

“The Lark ?” I paused. “I thought she was on this ship.”

“She was disguised as a cabin boy. They keep me chained down here except for twice a day when I get to, you know.” he meant relieve himself topside. “Before I could free myself, Vane snagged my key and Sasha got moved to crew with Captain Crunch. Can you believe that’s the name he’s using?” Marco swallowed hard, like he’d somehow failed Sasha.

“We’ve seen him,” I said. “We just left him at the pirate council doing bro’ stuff with Captain Vane. He’s searching for Sasha.”

“Man, I want to kill that asshole”

“Take a number.” Ace straightened, glancing around the hold. “We need the key to the lock on your chains, or a bolt cutter.”

“There’s more.” Marco bit his lip. “Vane has a piece of the map, and?—”

“How’d he get a piece?” Ace butted in.

“I think it belonged to Sasha’s mother.” Marco dropped his head. “I need to find Sasha. I’ve got something to tell her.”

I placed a hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Her mom is dead, isn’t she?”

“Blimey,” Ace said when Marco nodded.

“You can fill us in later. Right now, we need to get you off this boat. We’ll figure out a way to get your key later.” I looked for something capable to cut the chains but came up empty.

“The fat guy with the permanent scowl holds the keys to my cuffs.” Marco nodded toward a man securing a crate of cannon fodder.

“You know, calling him fat is a bit insensitive.” Ace glanced over at the obese man oozing flesh between his shirt and the top of his pants. “On the other hand, it can be a correct body composition descriptor.”

We didn’t have much time. I marched up to the man. “I have orders to move the prisoner to another location.”

“Oi?” The man glared at me. “I didnae hear from the cap’n.”

“We’re with Captain Smith’s ship, the Sea Storm . Captain Vane wants the prisoner on that ship. It’s got more…” I glanced around for something. “Cannons.”

“Oi.” Guns, the guy understood. He handed me the keys.

I snatched them from his grubby fingers and tried not to run back to Marco. Bending down, I reached to unlock Marco’s wrist cuff. He yanked them away.

“Only unlock my feet so that I can walk. If you unlock my wrists, they’ll know you’re helping me.”

We marched Marco up the ladder onto the top deck, me holding the rifle on him and Ace scouting for Vane.

The men, busy as a swarm of hornets sharpening their stingers, loaded their weapons, checked the riggings, eyed the enemy, and failed to pay a lick of attention to the aft end of the ship. We were steps away from the rails and climbing down to our rowboat. My heart beat a taps of victory.

I reached for the rails to swing my leg over when someone jerked me back and held a cold blade against my throat.

“You’ve traded yer lace for much less desirable attire, Miss Jennifer.” Vane slid up next to me, wrapping me into his body and grasping tight to my rifle-toting wrist.

His hooligans, swords drawn, surrounded Marco. Rackham leveled his pistol at Ace.

“Where are ye takin’ my prisoner?” Vane hissed like a snake set to strike.

“I can’t help your effort to outsmart Captain Rogers in ruffles and frills. Silver is valuable. I have foreseen the outcome of this battle and thought to move him to the Sea Storm , until I had the chance to enlighten you.” I spoke confidently, surprising myself since my knees knocked together.

“Another vision, witch?” His anger stewed dangerously close to the surface of his cool demeanor.

“Yes. You’ll set the Lark on fire so we can escape. After which you are rewarded with treasure.”

Marco rolled his eyes at me.

Someone had to come up with the idea. It might as well be me. My ideas stolen from the history books and loaned out for the greater good seemed responsible.

“Set a ship in my fleet afire?” He threw his head back and laughed without loosening the knife at my neck.

“It’s clearly the right answer.” I tried not to swallow in fear as the movement of my throat might cause fatal injury.

“Clearly.” Vane snickered at his men.

“You’re outgunned and outmanned. Sail the Lark under the flag of truce toward Rogers’ blockade. At the last minute, set the Lark on fire, jump free, swim to a waiting rowboat, board the Ranger , and we can be on our way.”

“Use the smoke as cover.” Rackham’s tone sounded encouraging. “Sail the Ranger and the Sea Storm past Rogers’ ships. Not a bad idea.”

“I’ll no run.” Vane glared at me, pushing the blade deeper into my flesh. Warm blood trickled down my neck. Damn, that would leave a mark Jake would notice. Marco’s face went rigid, his jaw tight.

“You’re not running, kind sir.” Ace bowed to Vane as if addressing royalty. “Merely regrouping.”

“You can find the treasure and come back with enough gold to take Nassau from Rogers,” Marco added.

“I’ll man the Ranger whilst you ready the Lark ,” Rackham said, his tone hopeful.

Vane relaxed the blade at my throat, considering.

“Make haste,” I shrieked like some Myles Standish wannabe. “Move the crew from the Lark to the Sea Storm . Time is of the essence. Nightfall approaches.”

“Take him below.” Vane motioned at Marco. “He’s mine until I have treasure in my hold.”

“Alert the Sea Storm of your new vision and my plan.” He pushed me toward the ladder leading down to the rowboat. Jeez. His plan.

Ace stepped toward me.

Vane blocked his way.

“My manservant must accompany me.” I demanded.

“Wingman,” Ace mumbled.

“He weel be on the Lark with me, and Crunch. If anything goes amiss”—Vane pointed his blade at Ace—“he dies.”

Ace gulped. “Brilliant plan, Jen.”