Page 26 of The Sea Witch (Salt & Sorcery #1)

“Luff sails,” the sailing master called out.

“Luffing sails,” several members of the crew answered, hurrying to follow his command.

As they did this, the sails slackened, slowing the ship’s speed. Canvas shook in the wind.

Alys noted Ben’s hands on the wheel were secure and certain, turning the Sea Witch into the wind to ensure a careful and steady approach into the island’s treacherous anchorage. Land had been spotted early

that morning, and, with Alys’s leave, Ben had taken his place on the quarterdeck to serve as helmsman, navigating the brigantine

through the dangerous shoals.

She’d witnessed many people steering a ship. Hell, she’d grown so used to the sight of Samuel at the tiller of his fishing

boat, it was as familiar as her own fingernails. There was nothing remarkable in observing anybody piloting a ship.

Alys had even braced herself for being annoyed to see the Royal Navy man at the helm of her ship. It was hers , after all, and she’d hand-selected the crew that made the Sea Witch run as smoothly, as efficiently as it did.

Except watching Benjamin Priestley take sure and confident control of the ship’s helm stirred a hunger in her.

It wasn’t possible for him to turn the wheel with his hands manacled, so the irons around his wrists had been removed.

Even so, Stasia stood nearby with her pistol trained on him, ready to fire should he do anything that could be considered suspicious, such as deliberately scuttle the ship.

He hadn’t objected to the fact that the quartermaster was poised to shoot him, and he calmly went about his business as if his life wasn’t constantly in peril.

Now he feathered the ship, quickly turning the helm from one side to the other as he continued to reduce the Sea Witch ’s speed. The ship immediately slowed—she could feel it was losing too much velocity to successfully negotiate the narrow

passage into the island’s anchorage.

“Sheet in on the main,” he shouted.

The crew quickly obeyed, tightening the mainsail to gain a little more speed while the ship cut between two coral reefs that

formed a natural protective barrier to the island’s inlet.

Once they’d breached the bay, he guided the ship through the reefs before he called, “Back the mainsail.”

When the crew followed his directive, the Sea Witch slowed to an almost complete stop.

“Drop anchor,” Ben called.

Finally, they were in the bay at the far end of the island of the Weeping Princess. Where they would—hopefully—find Little

George’s fail-safe.

And then she would be free of Benjamin Priestley.

A stone formed in her gut. Clearly, missing breakfast in her eagerness to catch sight of the island had been a mistake. She

was a woman of appetites—fasting never sat well with her. After they concluded their business ashore, she’d return to the

ship and sup heartily.

“Admirably done, Sailing Master,” she said as the jolly boat was made ready to bring them to the shore.

Lines briefly fanned in the corners of his eyes, then he gave her a clipped nod. Even so, there was pleasure in him. Like

her, he enjoyed executing his tasks well. Deep within, he was glad he’d performed well in front of her.

Stasia moved to put the manacles back around his wrists, and he stepped back.

“I’ll need my hands free when we’re traversing the island,” he said by way of explanation.

“That’s supposing you come with us,” Alys answered.

“No one else has been here. You’ll have need of me once you’re ashore.”

She exhaled as she shared a look with Stasia. Unfortunately, he was correct, and so Alys silently told her quartermaster to

keep the manacles off him.

“Leg irons, too,” he had the nerve to insist.

Stasia glanced at her again, and Alys nodded. Her second-in-command muttered Greek curses as she unlocked his shackles. For

his benefit, she added, “My pistol is going to be pointed at your back, navy man. If you scratch your arse suspiciously, there

will be consequences.”

“I don’t do anything that crass in front of a lady.”

Alys laughed, and Stasia and several other women joined her.

“This ship is crewed by women,” Alys said, “but not a single lady amongst us.”

She, Ben, and Stasia were joined in the jolly boat by Susannah, while Cora and Thérèse took the oars. Eris perched on Stasia’s

shoulder, already twittering with excitement at the prospect of exploration ahead.

Each of them was supplied with a skin full of water, and Susannah carried a pack with some bread and salted meat. Hopefully,

they’d be back before dark, but it was best to be provisioned in case anything went awry.

While they rowed toward the shore, Alys studied the island.

From what she’d been able to assess, it wasn’t more than three miles from one end to the other.

Just beyond the shallow white sand beach, the land was heavily forested with thick-trunked trees and swathed in green shadow.

Past the forest, the land rose up in a sharp volcanic peak, but there were no ominous rumblings or columns of smoke to indicate that an eruption might happen anytime soon.

“Will we stomp through anyone’s settlement?” she asked Ben.

“It’s been decades since anyone lived here,” he answered.

At last, they reached the beach, where waves the color of Ben’s eyes crested and crashed.

Remembrance flickered. Yet this beach wasn’t the same as the one they’d visited in their dream. Just the same, he also scanned

the shore, searching for a hint of what might be.

Everyone disembarked to drag the jolly boat up the sand. It was agreed upon that Cora and Thérèse would stay with the small

vessel while Alys, Ben, Stasia, and Susannah sought the waterfall.

“Lead us to it, Sailing Master,” Alys commanded him.

He gave a rueful smile. “We’ll learn its whereabouts together.”

She glowered at him. “No time for fibbing and games. Take us to the Weeping Princess.”

“The one time I came to this island, I was in search of pirates, not legendary waterfalls.”

Stasia let out a long string of curses.

“You said we’d have need of you once we were ashore,” Alys snapped. “That supposedly you knew where we were going.”

“I can make myself useful on an expedition,” he answered, “even if I don’t know where we’re headed.”

Alys stepped closer to him, and demanded in a low hiss, “Then how did we see it in your dream, if you’ve never actually been

there or clapped eyes on it yourself?”

“That, I cannot say. When I came here before, we had a sailor with us, Burgos, descended from the people who once lived here.

He told me of the waterfall, but we never ventured inland to find it.”

“Yet you and I, we saw it in our dream.”

“Perhaps...” Ben’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps something in it calls out to be found.”

She rubbed her chin. “If the fail-safe uses magic, it might link with the dreamwalking somehow. There’s still so much of magic I—” She stopped herself. Telling him how little she knew of the ways of magical power gave him too much power.

“Tracking is one of my skills,” he said.

“God damn it,” Alys growled. “I should make you wait with the jolly boat.”

“But it’s safer to have more of us in our party,” he pointed out. “In case anyone gets into trouble.”

“ You’re trouble.” Yet what he said made sense. Besides, she could more easily keep an eye on him if he was with her.

Finally, she snarled, “ Anything suspicious—”

“Your second-in-command is quite eager to shoot me.”

Alys planted her hands on her hips and looked toward the thick steaming jungle, where, God willing, the fail-safe was hidden.

“Move out,” she said decisively. “And if you do try anything, Sailing Master, it’ll be my flintlock that tears through that body of yours.”

“The terrain off the beach is too rugged and rocky to make passage possible,” Ben explained to the group. “The lone means

of going forward is ascending the gradual slope of the volcanic peak.”

“Scout for us, my lovely girl,” the quartermaster said to her magpie. The bird twittered and then flew off. She caught Ben

staring at her and snarled, “What?”

“You talk to that bird with more warmth than you use with humans,” he answered.

“Humans have far less wit than Eris.”

“Don’t you take offense to that?” Ben asked Alys, even though she wasn’t affronted.

She only shrugged. “I’m seldom witty without a mug of rum in me. Enough chattering. Now, we walk.”

Alys took the lead, using a long wide blade to cut a path through the thickly wooded terrain.

Ben followed her, and behind him was the quartermaster, doubtless ready with her pistol to send him to blazes.

Another member of the crew, a Black woman introduced to him as Susannah, brought up the rear.

She had pulled her many small braids back, out of her round umber face.

All four of them marched onward, the jungle dense and tall surrounding them. He moved in short quick steps. Then caught himself—he

wasn’t shackled anymore. He could move as freely as he pleased. And by God, did it please him. His whole body pulsed with

energy finally released.

Ben tilted his head, listening.

“Something’s out there.” He peered into the shadows within the trees. “Many things.”

“The people have gone,” Alys answered. “But that doesn’t mean no one lives here.”

“Creatures,” the second-in-command said. “Human eyes have not seen them in centuries, and they keep themselves hidden now.

They are... shy.”

“Should we fear them?” Ben searched for a weapon.

“Only if we rile them,” the Greek woman replied.

“That doesn’t console me.”

The second-in-command shrugged, clearly unconcerned whether or not Ben was consoled.

Alys motioned for everyone to keep walking. As they did, Ben continued to glance around, wary. Yet whatever dwelt on this

island seemed just as guarded and reluctant to engage.

“Best way to find a waterfall is to find its source,” Ben said to Alys’s back. Or rather, he tried to address his comments to her back, but as she moved, twisting this way and that, the skirts of her long coat kept shifting,