“She’s not my captain.”
Nanny raised a brow and gave her a look. Jill shut up. “Your captain has good reason to hate him and will fight him if she can. If she thinks you have a way for her to get to Blane—she’ll keep you close. You and that bit of sword.”
“Can that little piece really find him?” Jill said.
“I think—I think the sword will want to be whole again.”
“And will that help me get back home?”
Dark eyes shining in a shadowed, sculpted face, Nanny shifted her grip on her staff and looked out at the sea and the crew still scrubbing the hull of Diana, and the others working on the beach, slow but steady. Her expression remained wry.
“Sometimes you can’t go back. These people, these stolen slaves, maybe they go back someday. Probably not. So you go forward instead. Don’t find your place in the world, make your place. I was a girl, stolen from home in Africa. I still dream of going back. But here, I have a calling, taking care of these people. I can’t argue that. Maybe you’ll get back to where you came from, but is it really home?”
Jill wiped her eyes, which were threatening tears again.
From the hills deep within the forest, the sudden noise of barking dogs sounded. Activity on the beach stopped a moment.
Nanny looked up and frowned. Planting her staff, she used it to pull herself to her feet. “We’ve got to move.”
“What is it?”
“Plantation foremen’s hounds tracking us.” She called out to her people.
Jill stood, gingerly straightening cramped muscles and aching joints. “What if they find you?”
She chuckled. “They won’t find us.”
“But what if they come here?”
“Oh, they won’t mess with Marjory’s crew. Good luck to you.”
“Thanks.”
“And if Marjory asks you to be her pirate queen apprentice, tell her no. That girl is trouble.”
If Jill hadn’t been so exhausted, she might have laughed. Nanny squeezed her arm with her calloused, bony hand, and strode across the beach where her people had gathered. The Africans stood with them, stretching their muscles, looking into the jungle with a mix of hope and trepidation. At least they had hope. Abe stood by and waved a farewell as they trekked into the trees, and away.
The work went on.
That night at suppertime, the crew gathered around the fire, and everyone moaned and complained about sore muscles and blisters. Some of the crew had gone hunting and killed one of the feral pigs that roamed the jungle, and they celebrated the good roast meat. Even Jill enjoyed the fresh food, though she wasn’t happy seeing the pig butchered. She decided she preferred fresh meat that came wrapped in plastic.
When she had her tin plate of food and mug of rum, she found Henry and sat near him.
Jill leaned close and spoke softly, “Why does Captain Cooper have it in for Edmund Blane? What happened?”
Henry glanced at her. “How much have you heard already?”
“Nothing, really. The captain hates him, from the way she talks about him. I didn’t know his whole name until Nanny told me.”
He chuckled. “Grandy Nanny is a right fierce woman, isn’t she?”
“How does Captain Cooper know her?”
“Not sure, it was before my time. But I know there’s a story there. Nanny was a slave on a plantation, but escaped. She’s been helping others do likewise ever since. You say her name in Kingston, and the white folk’ll curse you down the street.”
“She sounds like a hero to me,” Jill said.
He shrugged. “We don’t get to decide who the heroes are, do we?”