“Bennett!” His roar chased me up the ladder and through the hatchway.
As I strode along the dark passages, climbed up a level, and walked aft to the next scuttle, I could still hear him bellowing my name.
My threat had shaken him, just as I’d hoped. Whether I could follow through on it was another story. Right now I was determined enough to lead a crew member down to the bilge and fuck him in front of Priest. I fisted my hands, angry enough to do all manner of horrible things.
“Captain!” Reynolds stopped me on the lower deck. “How did it go?”
“As expected.” I held up a hand and listened. Either Priest had quieted, or the din from the nearby crew’s quarters consumed his shouting. “Did you find the compass?”
“No.” He wiped sweat from his brow and grimaced. “Searched the jolly boat. Stripped the upper deck and every wall and barrel he passed last night to your cabin.”
“It’s here.” I pushed by him, heading topside. “Keep looking.”
“Jobah spotted sails off the larboard bow.” He waited until I turned around, his voice hushed. “A British slave ship.”
My heart rate spiked. “Sailing from St. Christopher?”
“We believe so.”
“Can we take it?”
“Aye.” He flashed a barracuda smile bristling with large, sharp teeth.
I grinned with him, teetering on the verge of sudden laughter.
With the cultivation of sugar cane on St. Christopher came the need for laborers. A gluttonous demand for strong, hard-working bodies. Hence the rampant importation of African slaves.
My family owned slaves in Carolina. Native women had cooked my meals, prepared my baths, and styled my hair. I was ignorant of what that meant until four years ago when I met Jobah.
The day I decided to attack his slave ship—a year before I met Priest and Reynolds—it hadn’t been out of heroism or benevolence. I had no idea what was crammed, starved, and shackled together in the cargo hold.
That horrific discovery had earned me a sword through the belly.
My hand fell to the scar that cut across my abdomen. Jobah had saved me that day. Not only had he escaped his chains and killed the guard who stabbed me, but he carried me off that ship and to my surgeon before I bled to death.
Afterward, he could’ve returned to his homeland with the rest of his people. Instead, he chose to stay with me.
Over the years, I taught him English and how to navigate a fifty-gun galleon. And he taught me the value of freedom. His firsthand accounts of his months aboard a slave ship still haunted me. He would always wear the scars of a slave, but he was no longer that man. In fact, he was the best damn pilot on the high seas.
“Prepare the larboard batteries.” I ascended the final ladder and rose from the dark belly of Jade, shouting into the sunlight, “Jobah! Gather your charts and meet me at the helm!”
“Your hat, Captain.” D’Arcy hopped into my path, holding out the black one I preferred that was cocked on three sides.
“Thanks, lad.” I jammed it onto my head as excitement washed over my heart.
Too bad Priest wouldn’t be up here to enjoy this. But he’d made his choice, and that choice wasn’t me.
Shoving away thoughts of my failed marriage and missing compass, I stared up at the mighty double-spoked wheel, which stretched almost as tall as the formidable African man standing behind it.
Jobah’s dark eyes blazed down at me, igniting a fire in my soul.
I hurried up the ladder to his side to prepare our attack and rid the sea of men more evil than me.
I balanced my boots on the jib-boom, a spyglass to my eye, and a hand clenched around the tack for support. The smoke of cannon fire lingered, the raw scent of it clinging to the back of my throat. With it came the bitter taste of disappointment.
The cargo ship had surrendered upon the first shot we lobbed across her bow. Had they been anything other than slave traders, I might have let them live.
Evidence of their evil lay in the hull, which had been divided into holds with little headroom and endless chains swaying from beams and snaking across the decks. All meant to restrain hundreds of captives. And all of it empty.
The slave ship had already delivered her cargo to St. Christopher island.
I lowered the glass and found Jobah standing beside Reynolds near the helm. Together, they watched the sea swallow what was left of the burning ship off the larboard beam.
We’d killed every man on board, save two.
Two badly beaten, malnourished slaves.
They were now on my ship, under Ipswich’s care. It wasn’t the first time my surgeon had nursed outsiders back to life. He grumbled and griped, claiming he didn’t have to obey a woman’s orders. But the cantankerous old fool secretly enjoyed it. He wouldn’t have stayed with me all these years otherwise.
When the last spar of the slave ship sank beneath the tide with a bubbling burp, I pulled in a deep breath and shouted, “Weigh anchor! All hands prepare to make sail!”
I jumped down to the forecastle and crossed to the rail that overlooked the expanse of Jade’s stunning upper deck. With her topsails clewed up from battle and her stalwart stem poised to smash through wind and water, I tilted my head back and let the splendor roll through me.
Sunshine heated my face. The breeze whipped my hair, testing the grip of my hat. Sea spray misted my clothes, and I soaked it all in.
My father had once stood in this very spot, commanding a different crew and earning their loyalty, battle after battle. How fortunate was I to follow in his footsteps.
I would never forget that. Never take it for granted.
Seamen clamored fore and aft, bare feet pounding across the deck. The windlass groaned, and the kelp-slimed anchor cable snapped taut, swinging out of the sea.
“Get those jibs up.” I descended to the main deck. “When we clear the wreckage, raise the mainsail.”
Shouts rang out in acknowledgment, followed by the cheerful song of working men. Their chanting tune narrated each maritime task, setting the rhythm as they hauled lines and swung yards.
“Destination?” Reynolds stopped me at the companionway, his gold earrings glinting in the sunlight.
I lifted my face, estimating the angle of the wind. “Put her on a beam reach. Due east.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
No, he wanted to know the long-term course. While we cruised the West Indies, plundering Spanish treasure ships and terrorizing the British navy, where were we ultimately headed? What did we want at the end of this? That was always the question, wasn’t it?
The answer resided in my father’s encrypted compass. I needed to find it, solve the puzzle, and follow the map.
“Locate the compass,” I said. “I’ll deal with Priest. Then we’ll go from there.”
But first, I needed to see how our new passengers were faring in the hands of surly old Ipswich.
Reynolds strode away, relaying my orders to the crew. A moment later, canvas rose, and the deck slanted as Jade heeled to leeward, luffing into the teeth of the wind.
I descended to the lower level and made my way to the infirmary.
Ipswich had his back to the door when I slipped in, his hunched sexagenarian frame bent over an occupied bed. I moved to the other bunk and rested my hand on the limp arm of a man who glared at me with glassy brown eyes. He jerked away from my touch and winced in pain.