“That’s kind of melodramatic, isn’t it?”
“It does seem a bit common for the likes of them, doesn’t it? I’d guess it’s something plain. He stole the ship from her, and she holds the grudge because that’s how she is.”
Whatever Cooper planned to do to Blane, the captain didn’t much care what happened to Jill in the meantime. She stuck her on the ship to keep her out of the way. Jill frowned at the thought.
“What’s wrong?” Henry asked, shifting to see her face, turned slightly away from him.
She shrugged and changed the subject. “You didn’t have to stay here with me. I know everyone else is onshore, partying. You should have gone with them.”
“Naw, this is fine. Besides, Captain ordered me to keep an eye on you.”
Of course Henry hadn’t stayed behind just to keep her company. Of course this was about Blane, again. Looking away, she muttered. “Or to keep me from escaping?”
He laughed. “And why would you do that?”
“I want to go home,” she said, sighing.
“Do you even know where home is? We fished you out of the water, you didn’t remember a thing.”
That was the story they told themselves about her, because she hadn’t told them the unbelievable truth. But Blane—maybe he’d know. If his broken sword brought her here, then maybe he’d know how to send her back.
Henry seemed inclined to sit on the prow talking all night—keeping an eye on her—but Jill said she was tired and needed sleep. She went below, curled up in her hammock, and waited. Nervous, she didn’t worry about accidentally falling asleep. She had to wait until the ship was quiet, until she heard snoring from the handful of crew who remained aboard.
Someone would be keeping watch. One wrong step or stray noise would wake everyone. Very carefully then, very quietly, she climbed out of the hammock. Setting a bare foot on the wooden deck, then the other, she slipped to her feet, holding on to the hammock to keep it from swinging. They all went barefoot on board or on the beach, but she’d been given a pair of leather shoes to protect her feet on the dirt roads in town, and she put these on.
Sticking to the wall, she crept to the stairs, moving slowly to keep the floorboards from creaking. She checked one more time, but the two other people asleep in hammocks hadn’t stirred. Climbing without a sound, she waited at the edge of the hatch and looked out. A few more men, including Henry, stood watch on deck. Rather, they drank rum and sang songs, picking up the scatterings of tunes carrying over the water from the town. They were drunk. She could probably walk right past them and they wouldn’t notice.
Still, she remained careful and quiet.
They were on the starboard side of the ship, near the middle; so she crept to the port side, toward the bow, where the anchor was. Staying low, she kept to the shadows, easy to do in the sparse and scattered lantern light.
Using the anchor line, she climbed off the ship and into the water. The rope was thick and covered with slime; she had to practically hug it to make her way down, gritting her teeth and trying not to breathe too much. Then she swam, hoping there weren’t sharks.
She brought the rapier with her, though she hated getting it wet. But she didn’t dare go ashore unarmed. As long as she dried it off quickly, the water wouldn’t hurt it. But the length of steel weighed her down and made swimming more difficult. Especially since she was trying to be quiet. She dog-paddled, keeping her head above water, and tried not to splash.
She avoided the pier, since people would be watching there, and swam to the beach instead. Once onshore, at the edge of Nassau proper, she only had to worry about running into anyone from the Diana. Especially Captain Cooper.
She hid behind a stack of crates waiting to be loaded onto a merchant ship in the morning. A scrap of canvas she found wasn’t much good for drying anything off, but she was able to scrape most of the water off her rapier. The rest of her had to wait for the cool breeze coming in off the water. She started shivering; the sooner she got moving, the sooner she’d get warm. She couldn’t worry about the cold.
The real trouble was, she only had one idea about where to start looking for Edmund Blane, and that was back at the pirate tavern.
She tied her hair up with a scarf and stuck a soft cap over it. The rest of her clothing was plain, nondescript: the loose shirt and trousers that everyone working on a crew at sea seemed to wear. She didn’t think she could really pass as a boy. But she could hope that maybe people wouldn’t look too closely at her. Maybe no one from the tavern that afternoon would recognize her as the girl who was with Captain Cooper.
The town wasn’t large, the streets weren’t complicated, so she found her way back to the alley and the sprawling house with its painted sign. Instead of going in, though, she slipped into the shadow of a nearby building, crouching at its corner and watching for Cooper and her crew. Some of them were surely here, but she wanted information and was willing to take the risk. The tavern seemed even more loud and boisterous—she could hear shouting and singing from the street. Those people who’d spent all day drinking were still at it. The settings had reversed: This time, the outdoors were dark, lit only with sparse lanterns, while the inside blazed with light.
Jill crept around the building, looking for a back entrance, to avoid drawing too much attention. She discovered the back door by the smell of the latrine. The rough, square shed stood only a few yards away from the house, nestled among the trees, and reeked about as sourly as she’d have expected a latrine outside of a bar where people had been drinking all day to smell. After she’d been watching a moment, a man stumbled from the shed, to the back of the tavern, and through the door.
She sneaked to the doorway and ducked inside.
For a moment, she lingered at the door, searching the room for anyone she recognized, for any reason to duck back outside and flee. No one seemed to notice her, which was good. This time, there wasn’t just singing in the tavern, there was music played on fiddles and pipes, even dancing. And lots more women than she’d seen before, and with their bright dresses, low-cut bodices, curled hair, and made-up faces, it was pretty clear that they were working. Yet another reason for shore leave. Jill just wanted to stay out of the way.
Staying against the wall as much as she could with all the tables
and chairs taking up spaces, and people using the walls to prop themselves up when they were on the edge of passing out, she moved through the first room and into the next, searching for someone who looked like they might be Edmund Blane. She imagined a towering villain with a scraggly beard and glaring eyes. And a broken sword at his hip. It was a haphazard way to search. But it was a start.
Then she saw someone she recognized, a woman sitting in the corner, smiling wryly, like she was also trying to keep out of the way but still enjoying the view. Mary Read.
Jill took a deep breath and approached. If she was too chicken to talk to the pirate, she should never have come here.