《Pirates of the Long Night [Grimdark Fantasy Epic]》


 Prologue: How it Came to Be This Way

    ENGLAND, THEIR MOTHER, has bled. She stands on the brink. Her last war was hard-won and nearly crippled her. Overwhelmed by her debts, England faces total collapse, she finds her teats run dry, and can no longer provide for her children. And so, she casts them all out. Soldiers, sailors, explorers, traders¡ªall spurned, all once very useful, all told to find lives and livelihoods elsewhere. These people become wanderers, become vagrants, they linger on public roads in stinking masses and beg with hands out. Parliament passes the Vagabond Act to combat the scourge of homelessness, making it illegal to simply sleep on the road or in public woods. It is illegal to be homeless. There is nowhere for these men and women to go.


    Nowhere in England for them to go.


    Betrayed, her children fan out across the seas. They have heard stories about opportunities in the New World.


    These are England¡¯s orphans.


    Privateers and sailors left unemployed after a long war with Spain must scrounge a living out of the sea. These orphans turn en masse towards the Caribbean, their hopeful eyes set on the riches promised on the sugar-producing islands of Barbados, Nevis, Antigua and Jamaica, the colonies there worked by slaves that England has pulled up from Africa and placed in chains.


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    The sugar fields expand. More slaves are needed. England empties her dungeons to send prisoners off to work the fields in the faraway Caribbean. The population of the Caribbean is now teeming with ¡°undesirables.¡± Hundreds of slaves break free of their chains and revolt. These become orphans, too, children without direction, and with much venom in their hearts for the empire that robbed them of their dignity.


    Fueled by hate, greed, lust, revenge and enmity, these orphans become the blood of a new civilization. They amass fleets of their own, become self-sufficient, and develop roving empires at sea that raid whomever they want, whenever they want. They fund their lifestyles by smuggling, taking control of the sugar fields, raiding towns and attacking vessels at sea. It is beautiful chaos.


    England at first utilizes these undesirables to attack Spanish ships and colonies, and these men and women do so with great relish, and develop their own bonds, forge their own leagues and formulate their own strategies. They begin to attack Spanish ships without England¡¯s authority, and England grows to hate this new streak of independence. She tries calling her children back to her, singing to them old promises of devotion. She needs them. She needs their strength, their ships, their manpower, and, above all, their obedience. She requires their help to build upon the New World and fight once more against Spain and France who are ascendant. But the children do not listen. They no longer heed their mother¡¯s words. Her song grows less sonorous with each passing year. The Caribbean becomes the rising sun to England¡¯s dusk.


    Angry they have found a new mother in the open sea, England grows jealous, and aims to make them remember her. Wrathful, in the summer of 1716, the old mother sends forth her Royal Navy, the strongest naval force the world has ever known.


    Never have waters been this dangerous¡­

 Chapter 1: The Hazard

    A ¡°Judas¡± ¨C On a pirate vessel, any rope left hanging and unsecure. Also, a traitor.


    ABNER PLAYED THE yellow glow of the lantern around the hammocks, each one swinging lightly as the timbers creaked, and taut ropes groaned. Something slapped against the hull. Outside the sea was becoming treacherous, a creature trying to get into their little wooden world. Placing a hand on a beam to keep his balance, he checked on Baxter and Stephens, both sick, both with red faces and harsh coughs that made their throats bleed. Mr. Cedar, the ship¡¯s surgeon, said he was confident it was not scurvy or King¡¯s evil, but a few of the men were afraid it might be plague. Abner knew that was unlikely, the plague was away in England and none of these men had seen her in years. And only if God is real, they shall never return. None of us shall, if God is truly, truly merciful.


    Abner loved these men asleep in their hammocks, every hateful one of them, even the ones that had just been recruited from Hazard¡¯s last visit to Port Royal. Lost souls, each of them, strewn about the sea like driftwood and none of them with one hope of a better life elsewhere. Three men found guilty of an affray in Essex, six men running from debtors, a pair of quiet lunatics who only conferred with each other in dark corners, an African who¡¯d freed himself from slavery, a thief missing half his toes. Almost three dozen more just like them. This was what God had sent Abner Crane, and it was his job to keep them.


    The weathered stumps of his two missing fingers touched the crucifix that swung from his neck, a reminder of the Almighty¡¯s leash. Abner Crane, once of Lowestoft, was Catholic, one of the many reasons he had need to flee England, though not the worst. Not the true reason. He prayed over Baxter and Stephens as they slept, knowing they would not have allowed it were they awake. Not because they were Protestants, which they were, but because the captain did not permit any religious rituals to take place on his vessel.


    ¡°God protect the captain from his vainglory and obstinance,¡± he muttered. ¡°Protect us all from his ambition.¡±


    Abner often did his secret work at night, that was why he always volunteered for second watch. Second watch began near sunset and carried past midnight. The dark did not frighten him. Darkness had long ago saved Abner and a few of his friends from the gallows, and he¡¯d felt an adherence to its many laudable aspects ever since, a respect such as wolves must feel when the dark hides them from their prey.


    The men of first watch snored all around him, almost loud enough to drown out the dull roar of the sea, while the boots of the men of second watch thumped on the deck above. The vessel leaned to starboard, and none noticed but him and the old brown cat Rory, over in a corner, doing his best to hunt down a meal. Rory did not disturb Abner¡¯s work, nor did Abner disturb Rory¡¯s. Both of their work must be conducted in darkness.


    ¡°God,¡± he whispered. ¡°Grant these men passage once more across Your glorious waters, and see them safely to homes and ports where their toils matter, and where their hearts may find peace amid¡ª¡±


    There came the quick sounds of a scuffle. Abner swung round and saw that Rory had obtained his prize, and slinked off quickly, a fat rat clutched jealously in his jaws.


    ¡°Amen.¡± That was enough. It had to be.


    The captain did not like religious ritual aboard the Hazard, this was true, so Abner had to satisfy his prayers now while he alone was awake in the forecastle. Now was his time. Now, nothing moved besides a lone cripple and his lantern through the dark labyrinth of the ship¡¯s innards.


    Other matters needed tending to in the dark, things he did not like to do but nevertheless must be done. He played his lantern¡¯s light slowly around the lockers, then up around the creaking rafters. Of any hijinks great or small he was not aware, yet he reached up with his left hand, the only hand with all its fingers still intact, and felt over the tops of the rafters. He was looking for anything that might be stowed secretly by a disloyal crewman. Abner did not like discovering any of his men were thieves, as quartermaster his job was to see to their safety, but it was paramount that all men be above reproach and that there was never sign of hoarding. Yes, he disliked this part of his duties most of all, mostly because he was afraid he would find something. He did not like to haul a crewman before the captain for punishment. The crew generally hated ¡°peaching¡± on each other. But what is a quartermaster that doesn¡¯t peach now and again? A co-conspirator, yes. But should I peach, I become also a Judas of another stripe. The captain had said that over dinner the first night Abner came aboard.


    He checked their stores, counted the casks of water and rum, compared them with the list he¡¯d made before leaving port and looked to see if the seals on any of the casks of salted pork had been broken. Thankfully, all was in order, and he found no men buggering one another in the shadows like last week.


    At the far end of the deck, he lifted the trapdoor and descended into a much greater darkness, into a miasmic stench that, after a few gulps, he made himself accustomed. His left knee smarted a bit with each step, but it barely manifested a reaction more than the occasional wince. The knee was like the missing fingers, or like the constant fear of the gallows¡ªAbner had learned to live with all of them.


    A faint glow came up from the stinking darkness. Someone else toiled down here in the dark, another keeper of secrets. LaCroix stood in knee-deep bilgewater with a single lantern hanging over him. The water swirled lightly around the Frenchman as he worked the pump, humming a tune only the Frenchman knew.


    ¡°How goes the work, young man?¡± Abner called down.


    LaCroix looked up as if startled. Surely, he had seen the light of the old man¡¯s lantern before hearing his voice, just as he had surely heard the old man¡¯s footsteps¡ªAbner¡¯s days of creeping up on people were far behind him¡ªyet the Frenchman still had the perturbed look of a man interrupted. ¡°It is well, Mr. Crane.¡± LaCroix¡¯s English was strained but passable. Abner did not know the man¡¯s story, no one did, but he was a gifted mechanic and carpenter that the captain had picked up in Nassau six months ago, and the fellow had so far proven almost indispensable, a genius at repairs and inventing quick fixes on the fly. A mind like his was invaluable at sea.


    LaCroix had also proved himself completely capable of speaking English without an accent, though he only did this in his sleep. Abner alone had heard him do this, but had told no one.


    ¡°Do you need me to send Dobbs or one of the other nippers to help?¡± Abner asked. ¡°It¡¯s easier with two. And safer.¡±


    He gestured to the huge nets of barrels swinging from the ceiling, each one weighing in excess of three hundred pounds and fastened by tight rigging. Still, such a light storm as this had been known to shake loose the fastenings put in place by a weary and inattentive sailor, which would send those three-hundred-pound crates all about the room. One is all it would take to crush a man.


    Typically, barrels such as these would be nowhere near the bilge, but the men of the Hazard were just coming off two successful raids with sizable prizes of spice, clothing, and some pearls of uneven quality. Coupled with the extra provisions they had picked up at port, the Hazard¡¯s belly was stuffed to the rafters. The Hazard was a sloop-of-war, and she was not truly meant for so much plunder, so it had to be stored wherever there was space. As it happened, the extra added weight was likely helping them weather the storm.


    ¡°I do fine on my own, Mr. Abner, but thank you,¡± said LaCroix, wiping his brow. The Frenchman managed to say it without any true affection or appreciation.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    The ship heeled slowly to port, then back to starboard, sloshing the filthy water momentarily up to LaCroix¡¯s waist. The Frenchman returned to his singing and worked the pump.


    ¡°You should have someone to help¡ª¡±


    ¡°I said I am fine, monsieur.¡± LaCroix turned back to Abner, and they eyed one another. They had never been on even terms. Not enemies, exactly, just not on even terms. Abner pledged to find the source of the enmity before long. It was his job to root out malcontents, the captain entrusted him with this sacred duty, and it was critical to keeping a crew of disparate men from turning on one another. It happened. Abner knew it happened. Had seen it himself.


    ¡°I will send someone to help,¡± Abner said resolutely, and turned back up the ladder. LaCroix could argue all he wanted, but as quartermaster Abner¡¯s word was final on all matters of crew safety and work assignments. If he said the bilge needed another set of hands, it would get another set of hands. Before he closed the trapdoor, though, Abner looked down into the bilge and saw the Frenchman¡¯s baleful gaze in the wavering light.


    God, watch over them all. Even the fucking Frenchman.


    As he started to leave the lower deck, Abner froze on the steps and turned back to take one last look at the fellows of first watch. Thirty-one men sagged in their hammocks, snoring loudly. He heard Baxter and Stephens coughing up blood in the back. He kissed his crucifix to underscore his earlier prayer, then headed out of the forecastle.


    Halfway up the stairs, a small waterfall of seawater splashed onto his head, followed by a salty spray. He was utterly drenched as he faced the storm, which came towards the Hazard like a black, twisting mass of evil incarnate, stepped straight out of a priest¡¯s dark tales.


    The squall had moved in fast, but it was no tempest, not yet. Bruise-black clouds piled high on the ceiling of the world and darkened every horizon, as though a colossal black halo encircled Hazard, demarcating the borders between this world and Hell. The waves were not high, but neither were they amenable. Hazard would have to stand her ground to keep course. A constant drizzle from the clouds and a soft, near-continuous spray coming from over the railing kept every man soaked to the bone.


    Abner hung his lantern on a hook by the capstan and stood a moment on the top deck, watching God¡¯s fiercest brushstrokes painting some of His more severe scenery. The squall had grown into something powerful, but these were not the cyclonic winds of a hurricane. Fourteen-knot winds were still enough to threaten every moment of a boat¡¯s existence, but as he watched the men of second watch, Abner saw experience guide them. Many were once men of the Royal Navy, who then turned privateer before some catastrophe made them only suitable for pirate vessels. They were all able seamen and sailors, and they moved like organized ants in a colony.


    Hazard had been running free before an easterly wind when the call came from the captain to head into deeper waters and then reef most of her sails. The captain had been clever enough to surmise the storm¡¯s mind, and had seen its intentions even while Mr. Kepler, Hazard¡¯s sailing master, had suggested they make for one of the islands and shelter in a cove.


    But the captain had known they would not have time¡ªhe¡¯d seen the storm¡¯s plan for them, and knew it was going to move in quickly, encircle them, entrap them, the strange black clouds converging like lions on unsuspecting prey. But he¡¯d known something else, too. He¡¯d known that the storm would culminate in a brief rage, then dissipate, as it was doing now.


    Abner had heard the argument between the captain and his sailing master earlier. ¡°We are safe enough now, but our vessel¡­she¡¯s only a sloop, Captain,¡± Kepler had pointed out. ¡°And if this storm intensifies, then so much the worse. If we were in a heavier galleon, perhaps¡ª¡±


    ¡°You forget what we are hauling, Kepler,¡± the captain had said evenly, his icy-blue eyes set on the coming storm. Abner had happened to be passing by on his way to wake the second watch and send them off to their work, when he found this occasion to eavesdrop. He was not usually an eavesdropper, mind, but how could one miss this encounter between captain and helmsman? Kepler and the captain had been standing in the companionway, just outside the latter¡¯s cabin, speaking sotto voce. ¡°Hazard has considerably more in her belly than when she left port. Our prizes make us heavier.¡±


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t think by too much, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Enough to satisfy these waves,¡± the captain had said, gesturing outward.


    ¡°But these waves could easily change to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I understand your concern, Kepler. I know you¡¯ve been stranded before, I know you and only one other man survived when Sally¡¯s Kiss went down. Mr. Crane has told me everything. But I can¡¯t have a sailing master who lets that rattle him and affect his judgment moving forward. I need a sailing master who moves where I say, when I say. Do I have such a sailing master or no?¡±


    Abner had seen Kepler pale slightly, then nod. ¡°Aye, Cap¡¯n. You have one.¡±


    The captain put salve on the wound by patting Kepler¡¯s shoulder, and smiling his amiable smile. ¡°There¡¯s a lad. And don¡¯t worry. You see this storm as an evil, Mr. Kepler, but I see it as an omen. A fair one.¡±


    ¡°An omen, sir?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The waters are just choppy enough to aid us. We shall catch that galleon, and either capture her or sink her.¡±


    ¡°But how, Captain? That is¡­no disrespect meant, but¡­she¡¯s a three-master, with all sails free. And even if we did catch her¡ªwhich we can¡¯t, not at this rate¡ªbut if we caught her, her cannons are nearly triple ours. She has speed and guns on us, sir. Speed and guns.¡±


    Before Abner slipped below, he¡¯d seen the fiendish smile on the captain¡¯s lips, an all-too-familiar expression for those who knew him well. ¡°The storm,¡± he said, ¡°shall take care of both of those for us.¡±


    That conversation had been hours ago.


    That three-masted galleon now appeared directly ahead of them in the east, bobbing up and down like a child¡¯s toy in a tub, occasionally vanishing behind a tall, black wave before reappearing again, often much closer, framed by flashes of lightning. Abner smiled as he headed fore. The captain knew his trade, he had timed it all so well, and now the galleon was running from them.


    But how? How did he know it would run? She¡¯s a far bigger ship, three times our size, which means more guns, as Kepler said. She could¡¯ve spun ¡¯round and attacked us, but she ran. Why did she run, and how did the captain know that she would?


    And there was another mystery. It made no sense when you were looking at it, but how was Hazard, a smaller vessel with fewer free sails, catching up to a more powerful ship with all sails free?


    Abner nearly slipped in a slosh of foaming water that had crept over the side. The water was being drained through the scuppers, but not nearly fast enough. He picked up another lantern and moved forward, then doused it and hung it from a stanchion, and placed both hands on the starboard rail. Kissing his crucifix again, he looked to Hazard¡¯s needle-sharp bowsprit, to the person standing at the front, wrapped in corset and long black skirt and blue scarf snapping in the wind. A single delicate, gloved hand reached out from the jacket sleeve and grabbed hold of the forestay to keep balance. That person¡¯s eyes were undoubtedly fixed on the galleon, so close within their reach. It was just as the captain had said, the storm was working in their favour. How, exactly, Abner did not know. It was all a mystery.


    But then the captain always knows the mind of a storm, doesn¡¯t he? He ought, he¡¯s seen enough of them. But this time, Abner wanted to know how he knew¡ªfor there must be a method¡ªand so, carefully, he made his way to the bowsprit. Over the side, he saw the waterline suddenly drop away, creating a massive, curved ditch of black water before once again it rose and splashed over the railing and drenched him. He stood for a moment, mesmerized by the watery chasms that had opened up before him one second, and then closed the next. If a man fell in, he would never be rescued, he would simply vanish into black waters and then lie at the bottom forever.


    Sixteen crewmen were currently working the deck, two up in the rigging, and one high up in the crow¡¯s nest. Some of them had tied themselves to the railing in case a rogue wave washed them overboard. Abner found Dobbs coiling rope. He clapped the fourteen-year-old boy on the shoulder and said, ¡°Get down to the bilge and help LaCroix with the pump.¡±


    The boy¡¯s moppy brown hair was plastered to his face, soaked in seawater. The cavity of his missing eye looked like a shadowy cave in the pale grey light. ¡°But Kepler said to make sure the deck was cleared¡ª¡±


    ¡°Captain wants speed, boy, the deck can wait. We cannot let ourselves get any heavier. Go. I¡¯ll finish the rope myself if it becomes an issue.¡±


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°The Frenchman won¡¯t like me being down there¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle the Frenchman later! Go, now!¡±


    Dobbs nodded and ran off.


    Abner moved along the gunwale, clutching the railing, shouting orders. ¡°Folemann, grab a bucket if you¡¯ve nothing else to do! Kendrick, secure that Judas! For God¡¯s sake, do you want to lose all our barrels of powder? Nils, Brogan, help him¡ª¡±


    ¡°Make way, Abner!¡± someone shouted.


    Abner turned just in time to jump out of the way of Tomlinson and a team of three others running with large coils of rope around their shoulders. They swayed as they started the climb up the mainmast.


    ¡°Where are you lot going?¡± he called after them.


    Tomlinson, who moved fast for a round and short-legged man, paused only to say, ¡°A stay has snapped, needs splicing! Cap¡¯n also says may need to unreef an¡¯ let the sails fly!¡±


    ¡°Unreef? Now?!¡± Feeling a small panic, Abner gauged the wind, and looked up at the mizzenmast, its sails tied off but still whipping in the wind. ¡°Unless I¡¯m dreaming this storm, you shouldn¡¯t be climbing anything right now, or unreefing any¡ª¡±


    ¡°Cap¡¯n¡¯s orders!¡±


    Tomlinson climbed as though he needed no other excuse, because he didn¡¯t. The captain¡¯s orders were sacred, even on a pirate vessel.


    Abner thought this peculiar. And now that he looked around, he noted several other crewmen scrambling up the ratlines or moving to the capstan and the winches, as though preparing for maneuvers.


    What in hells?


    There was only one person that could answer all the questions now pestering him.


    Abner continued towards the bowsprit. When he came beside the person dressed in corset and skirt, he at first had no words. The figure standing next to and slightly above him was a vision, an imposing creature stepped right from the fever dream he¡¯d had ages ago when he was stranded on Cat Island, chased by natives and sleeping in trees to keep away from the coral snakes that dominated the jungle floor. He could still recall that nightmare with the same clarity as he recalled his mother¡¯s perfume. Mosquitoes had buzzed in his ears at all hours, keeping him from sleep. That, and his near starvation, had led his mind down many black avenues, one of which had a burning cross rising from the earth with Christ himself upon it, with many dogs barking and slavering at the Saviour. In that particular vision, as Abner had chewed off his own fingers, he saw a woman seated on a throne, yet speaking to him in a man¡¯s voice. Abner could not recall what she said, but years later when he met the figure standing at the bowsprit, he knew either the Devil or the Lord Himself had provided him that dream; a means to either damnation or salvation.


    Of the figure little was known. The evidence of his ancestry was in his speech, together with his usual bearing and posture. It had always indicated to Abner upper crust, a man born to wealth but somehow brought low. Low enough that pirates were the only satisfying company. A man whose fortunes were extinguished by some calamity or mishap. And yet the mind of this figure was sharp, frighteningly so, with steely eyes and an alternating grimace and smile that worried his crew.


    ¡°How did you know, Captain?¡± Abner asked presently, having to shout above the wind and waves.


    The Ladyman didn¡¯t move. Captain John Laurier turned his head slightly towards his quartermaster, though his eyes remained fixed to the north¡ªnot east towards the targeted galleon, but north of all places, where there was naught but angry waves¡ªand he winced, as though his thoughts caused him pain. His lips, lightly coated in red paint, were pursed. Lipstick was outlawed in England, on the basis that women were using such cosmetics to seduce men. A sensible law, Abner felt. But lipstick had been outlawed on women, Captain Laurier always noted to any new seaman that came aboard Hazard with questions about it. As for the corset and skirt, many sailors brought women¡¯s clothes with them on long journeys, so that they might put on plays to entertain one another on long hauls. But usually they took them off after each play. Usually. Some kept wearing them for a while as a joke.


    That wasn¡¯t Captain Laurier¡¯s case. And none of those dresses were ever as finely tailored as Captain Laurier¡¯s dresses were to him.


    The captain was known to have both a seamstress and a tailor back in Port Royal, a married couple, who he paid good coin to give him the best lace and latest fashions from London and Paris. The tall, black cavalier boots were made out of reconstituted Spanish leather, and had a rather dainty look to them, especially with such tall heels. His grey britches, which he wore underneath the skirt, had seen wear, and the dark-green jacket was tight, and not very broad-shouldered, almost like a woman¡¯s going-out coat. From his coat sleeves the lace-trimmed ruffles frothed like seafoam.


    Yet, Abner often observed, Laurier retained an undeniable masculine physique. Strong arms and hands were evident, even though the hands were wrapped in black lace gloves with only the fingertips sticking out. And each fingernail was painted a different colour. The tattoos on his neck, arms, and torso were also not very effeminate, but you rarely saw them for his ladylike attire, which he changed almost daily into a new costume. And the sword at his hip was Toledo steel, the guard and pommel chased with gold and silver.


    Why he dressed this way was anyone¡¯s guess. Some sailors believed having a woman on board brought a ship bad luck. Others thought it brought good fortune. Was the captain trying to trick the spirits of the sea into sending them some luck? Others thought that since their main targets at sea were Spanish ships, Captain Laurier was merely trying to taunt the Spaniards, or make them underestimate Hazard¡¯s crew because, when seen through a spyglass, it would appear as though a woman was in charge.


    But if that is the case, why not wear a wig? Abner wondered, looking at the captain¡¯s short-cropped blond hair. Why does he not complete the disguise?


    It was a question Abner had heard some of the crewmen ask each other after shifts, when there was naught to do but drink and sleep and talk idly of home and spin a few tales around the scuttlebutt. They asked about the captain¡¯s embroidered dresses, the silk skirts he¡¯d obtained after plundering a Spanish sloop and now wore on some nights under moonlight, and the elegant gowns with high, colourful collars he wore when going ashore.


    Captain Laurier often hid his short golden hair beneath a tricorne hat. He had piercings, but they were large, bulbous things, not attractive at all. He wore thick bracelets and silver necklaces, most of them encrusted with rubies or other gems. His chin was sometimes clean-shaven and sometimes scruffed. It was as though he was making only half an effort to disguise himself as the fairer sex.


    From his sleeves to his heels, the Ladyman struck a contradictory form that, Abner ventured, no artist could hope to capture. There was no defining him. May as well name the colour of dust.


    Abner was curious, and desperately wanted to ask the captain why he did what he did, why he dressed so scandalously (which was an affront to God but wouldn¡¯t matter to him since he found talk of God deplorable, religion being ¡°the slowest way to form insight¡± he¡¯d said once). But one question at a time. ¡°How did you know we would gain on her, Captain?¡± Abner asked again.


    Laurier nodded east, finally tearing his gaze away from the north and planting it squarely on the Spanish galleon. ¡°Do you see, Abner? She¡¯s changed course ever so slightly. That makes three times now. Three times she¡¯s tacked. She¡¯s trying to catch a break before the shoals ahead.¡± A smile touched the edges of the captain¡¯s bright red lips. He turned his head slightly and shielded his eyes from a spray that came up from the prow. Abner looked and saw that the galleon had indeed changed course again, her sails tilting as she wore leeward. ¡°Changing course always means a temporary loss in speed.¡±


    Well, yes, Captain, everyone knows that, he thought, but did not say. The galleon is losing speed now because of course corrections, because we¡¯re following her, because we¡¯ve hounded her into the shoals, even after she fired warning shots and any sensible crew would¡¯ve dashed for the opposite horizon. But how did you know, Captain Laurier, that she would slow down enough for us to run her into the shoals in the first place?


    Abner stood uncomfortably at the bowsprit, the only sounds that of the sea in turmoil and men calling from the netting and masts. He noticed the sails had all been unreefed and were now blooming in the wind, which, if he was not mistaken, had just picked up a notch.


    Hazard puffed up her chest and surged forward, taking on speed, the cut-water ploughing hard into the waves.


    ¡°Six fathoms, Captain!¡± cried Okoa. The skinny African was ten feet away, clinging to the larboard rail with his thighs and reeling in his knotted plumb line. The young man¡¯s legs clamped tight to the rail, which was a feat, considering one of them ended at a stump just below the knee; a punishment for his attempt at escaping the sugar fields on Antigua, where Captain Laurier found him three years ago, after he escaped a second time.


    ¡°Six fathoms, aye,¡± the captain replied calmly, never taking his eyes off the galleon.


    Thirty-six feet ¡¯tween us and the seafloor. That¡¯s already getting shallow. With shoals nearby, that¡¯ll creep up fast.


    ¡°You¡¯re really going to try and close in on them? In this?¡± Abner said, gesturing to the waves and the sky.


    Captain Laurier ignored him, looking north again, then sweeping east.


    From the wheel, Kepler bellowed, ¡°She¡¯s fighting me now, Cap¡¯n! The wind¡¯s persuaded her north!¡± He wouldn¡¯t have been entirely heard if other crewmen weren¡¯t repeating his words up and down the deck so the captain could hear. ¡°Kepler says she¡¯s persuaded north, Cap¡¯n!¡± they yelled.


    Laurier spun and called to the short little Dutch man who had joined them in Port Royal. ¡°Lucas! Bear up and set the square mainsail! North by west, a half north!¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir! Double-reefed, sir?¡±


    ¡°Not till I say. Jaime, set up the cross cat-harpings as I bloody well told you before¡ª¡±


    ¡°Aye aye, sir! A thousand pardons, sir!¡± said the Scotsman.


    ¡°Relay to Kepler my commands: hold this course and put her almost before the wind. Once Lucas is done, that ought to bring her home!¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir!¡±


    Abner wondered if the captain had heard his question. Then another doubt crept to mind, one that had been gnawing at Abner¡¯s belly for three turns of the glass now. ¡°Can we even be sure she¡¯s Spanish, Captain? She¡¯s not flying any flag.¡± That wasn¡¯t totally unusual. Flags wore out at sea, due to sun and salty sea air. But by now a chased ship ought to be flying any flag as a warning.


    Laurier produced a long glass from inside his coat, extended it, and looked through it for a moment before passing it to Abner. ¡°Tell me what you see.¡±


    Abner tried. He first had to wipe the rainwater off the lens before viewing the galleon. She was still difficult to spot, even through the glass¡¯s magnification, for the sun was low behind the clouds. It also did not help that the two ships were bobbing.


    Eventually, though, he locked onto the galleon. She had turned slightly starboard, trying to run at broad reach¡ªno longer running directly before the wind, but slightly off of it¡ªand was heeling hard, which meant she was pulling a speedy turn. Abner could almost make out her whole profile.


    ¡°Spanish ships will have those blunter tumblehomes, more so than English or Dutch ships,¡± Laurier said instructively. ¡°And the sail formations are those of a nao, or I¡¯m no judge.¡±


    Abner nodded. Yes, he saw tumblehomes. But something naggled at him, something his eyes caught but that his mind could not name. Something odd about her profile¡­


    When he lowered the glass, he saw Laurier¡¯s broad, lipstick¡¯d grin beneath the brim of his hat. ¡°She¡¯s too low in the water, Abner. You see it now, don¡¯t you? You understand it?¡±


    ¡°Captain?¡±


    ¡°Heavy ships do have the advantage in a storm in terms of balance and steadiness, my friend, but that ship has two decks of guns, not one. Look again.¡±


    Abner looked through the glass, and after a few minutes he noted that the galleon¡¯s entire lower gun deck was near the waterline, and, by flash of distant lightning, he saw that all those square-shaped gunports appeared to be closed.


    ¡°You see it now?¡±


    ¡°Five fathoms, Captain!¡± Okoa cried.


    ¡°Five fathoms, aye. Thank you, Okoa. Do you see it, Abner?¡±


    ¡°Her guns are nearly in the water,¡± he said. ¡°The waves are reaching up to the lower deck.¡±


    ¡°And so?¡±


    Abner saw it, and he marveled at the simplicity of it. ¡°Sink me. She has no choice but to keep them closed, or else she gets swamped. She cannot use those lower guns at all. It¡ªit should¡¯ve been so obvious to me before.¡±


    ¡°But it wasn¡¯t. Because how often have you chased a galleon into a storm to see how she moves?¡±


    ¡°Never.¡±


    ¡°And so there you have it.¡± Laurier paused to let a massive wave splash over them. Thunder rolled all around, and he had to shout to be heard. ¡°And these winds have given them no choice but to run at broad reach. That takes them southeast. They¡¯ll have to reel in some canvas to slow themselves down, if they don¡¯t want to hit some of the shifting sandbars out here.¡±


    Laurier looked down at him.


    ¡°You heard our Mr. Kepler say she had speed on us, and cannons, did you not? I saw you eavesdropping, old man. You don¡¯t fool me.¡± Laurier laughed.


    ¡°I¡ªCaptain, I never meant to¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, old friend. You¡¯ll recall I told him the storm would take care of both for us¡ªspeed and the cannons¡ªdid I not? Well, there you have it. She¡¯s stuck with only half her guns, you see, and she¡¯s having to cut her speed by a quarter. Add to that,¡± he laughed, ¡°Spaniards are notoriously bad seamen, and the scales begin to tip our way.¡± He nodded east. ¡°You believe God favours our ship, Abner. You¡¯ve always said so, and I¡¯ve always given you grief for it. But now I fear I¡¯ve given you all the proof you need to win our ongoing debate. God may indeed be on our side, despite my best efforts to spurn Him.¡±


    The strategy was more than sound, it was done with an artist¡¯s stroke. Abner no longer had any doubts about it. Where before he¡¯d harboured doubts, he now saw only a part in the heavens. Fortune and seacraft in equal parts, the recipe Laurier¡¯s alone.


    And that was the Ladyman¡¯s power, to leave mysterious what ought to be, and reveal secrets when they had flowered. ¡°It is well done, sir.¡± But he did have one more question. ¡°However, our ship is already overburdened by plunder. Will we be able to carry much more? That is, even if we succeed, is it really worth it to go after a galleon her size?¡± He added, ¡°Unless your only goal is to scuttle her.¡±


    Laurier turned his smile north. ¡°That¡¯s what she¡¯s for.¡±


    Abner winced in consternation, and then looked north. It took a moment, but only just. Another flash of lightning illuminated the rolling waves, and then another, and a small shape began to appear in the distance, perhaps half a mile out, her dark hull and tar-black sails making her almost indecipherable against that greater darkness that haloed the fringes of the horizon.


    Another ship! Where did she come from? For a heartrending moment Abner panicked. Are we being stalked?


    Then he heard Laurier¡¯s soft laughter. ¡°Not to worry, Abner. She¡¯s a friend. I¡¯m sure the Spaniards have seen her by now, too, and on her current course, they¡¯ll have no choice but to change tack, head to Belcher¡¯s Cove, both to find safety from the waves and to look for a means of keeping themselves from becoming surrounded by enemies.¡±


    ¡°A friend?¡± Abner breathed, looking at the new ship. It appeared to be mid-sized. It was a brig, a bit larger than their sloop, with double the guns. ¡°What friend, Captain?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s the Lively.¡±


    Abner was incredulous. ¡°The Lively!¡± The stumps of his fingers went instinctively to his crucifix. ¡°The privateer! We¡¯re working alongside them again? But¡­how¡­that is, where did she¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Four fathoms, Captain!¡± cried Okoa, reeling in the plumb line.


    Abner now looked mistrustfully at the sea. Four fathoms¡ªtwenty-four feet¡ªwas dangerously shallow water. It made him nervous. And now they were being followed by a privateer¡ªa pirate-hunter, no less. But Captain Laurier only nodded into the rain and said, ¡°Just about right.¡±


    ¡°Sail ho!¡± Jenkins called from high up in the crow¡¯s nest. His voice was dim over the rain and thunder and rushing waves. He pointed excitedly north, and seemed as surprised as Abner was to see the brig materialize out there, like a ghost ship from the black depths.


    Abner shook his head. ¡°Captain, how have you done all this?¡± It was not the first time he had stood amazed at the captain¡¯s reckonings and planning. ¡°How did you coordinate with the Lively to be here, now, converging on a Spanish nao?¡±


    Part of him wanted to know how it was done, but there was a dimmer part of his mind where a troubled voice told him he did not want to know. There were funny tales, told in the galley at night, that said the captain was the spawn of a siren and a drowned seaman. It was absurd; sirens were of Greek myth, but some said it would explain the Ladyman¡¯s manner of dress and ability to lure ships to their doom.


    The funny tales were sometimes told without laughter, which made them not just stories at all, but myth, legend. Normally Abner did not put stock in those stories. Normally, he didn¡¯t. And while he loved all the crew of Hazard, the captain was more of an enigma, by turns worthy of love, scorn, cheer, hope, fear, and mistrust. Like all leaders of men do.


    But what man forbids God from stepping aboard his ship?


    Abner found himself suddenly wary. Afraid for his soul? Perhaps.


    ¡°The explanations will come later.¡± The Ladyman¡¯s smile lingered, as though he savoured a bit of wine. Then the smile faded, and he looked at Abner. And in that moment Abner felt all fears he had about the Ladyman evaporate again, like early morning dew. ¡°Prepare for boarding action. Wake every man. Have Owens open the lockers and get out the swords and pistols. Make sure the latter are loaded. Have Isaacson help pass them out to every man. Get a powder monkey ready with the cartridges, the gunners will need them.¡±


    ¡°Aye aye, sir. Eh, sir?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be full dark soon. Full dark, proper.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Abner wanted to say more, but the captain had gotten them this far and proved his seamanship. Boarding actions were an absurd notion at night, it was hard enough keeping two ships side by side in calm waters, but in a storm? At night? He wanted to ask about it, but instead put his faith in God and the Ladyman, which for all he knew at the moment were the same thing. Or else God has only led me to him. Led us all. God, or the other one.


    Laurier continued issuing commands unabated. ¡°We¡¯ll need everyone, even Baxter and Stephens, even if they can only hold a pistol and fire a single shot each. I want Oliver on the tiller, and put the Scottish boy in the crow¡¯s nest with a musket.¡±


    ¡°Scottish boy?¡±


    ¡°Dobbs.¡±


    ¡°Dobbs isn¡¯t Scottish, sir,¡± Abner reminded. ¡°I keep telling you that.¡±


    ¡°I know. But it helps if he thinks I think he is.¡± He shrugged. ¡°And I suppose we ought raise the black. Our quarry won¡¯t see it till we¡¯re close, and by now they¡¯ll have gotten the point, but let us at least give them the chance to surrender before the work turns bloody. And wake Anne, if you can find her. Tell her what¡¯s about to happen. Hopefully she deigns to join us.¡±


    Abner scratched at his scraggly grey beard, still fretting. ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    ¡°And have someone help LaCroix with the pump. He¡¯s been down there by himself for hours.¡±


    ¡°Already did that, sir.¡±


    Laurier graced Abner with another of his smiles. ¡°God¡¯s favour,¡± he scoffed. ¡°Why does Hazard need His favour, Abner, when she has yours?¡± The Ladyman¡¯s laughter could be heard above the thunder.


    Abner shivered inwardly at the sound, but was only troubled for a moment. Then he nodded and turned away to his work, practically soaring. He headed to the forecastle, to wake the sleeping first-watchers and ready them for action. And as he went about his work, Abner felt ages younger, the captain¡¯s words warming his soul as no Scripture ever had. Mind, those words did not vanquish all concerns about a nighttime boarding action. In all his years at sea, Abner had never heard of such a thing, at least not when both ships were still mobile. No, those fears were still there, unassuaged and real, but the fact that the captain¡¯s words had tucked them nice and delicately beneath the silken sheets of fervour and loyalty was a testament to his power.


    That fervour was lava in his veins as he made his way to the mainmast and hoisted the black flag. But there was a moment¡ªjust a moment¡ªwhen he looked back to the prow and saw the man-woman figure framed against the darkling sky, waves crashing at his feet, and he felt something. A darkness. And Abner feared a time he would have to choose: God¡¯s way or the Ladyman¡¯s. When the moment was over, the fervour returned.


    Then he drew the whistle from his pocket and blew the two-note alarm.


    ¡°All hands!¡± he bellowed. ¡°All hands on deck! All hands on deck! Move you bloody scallywags! The captain¡¯s got him a live one and I won¡¯t be the one to tell him why we let her slip!¡±

 Chapter 2: The Lively

    privateer ¨C An armed ship owned and officered by private individuals who are given special permission by a government to attack merchant ships of enemy nations.


    letter of marque ¨C A government license that authorizes a private person to attack and capture vessels of enemy nations. Without it, one ceases to be a privateer, and becomes a pirate.


    HALF A MILE away from the pirate ship Hazard, cutting quickly through the foaming black water, was another ship. The privateer Lively had beat against the storm for going on two hours. On her main deck three steadfast men held tight to the oak handles of the capstan. The ship heeled, and they sent silent prayers up to the one conducting the clouds and the wind. Thankfully, the Lively¡¯s captain had drilled his men incessantly in weeks previous, and they had all tied themselves to the railing and readied themselves to their stations. Their grunts were lost amid thunder, as were their cries to one another. When Lively leveled out, the three men were still holding fast to the capstan, waiting on word from the captain. These three men were brothers, they had come to the Caribbean together with their parents in 1699, and after fever took both mother and father, the three brothers began sailing together, and had done so ever since, aboard merchantmen and privateers. There was more money in privateering¡ªA full twenty shillings extra a month! the eldest brother had told the others, back when that had been true¡ªbut also a lot more risk. It was a daring life. Already they had seen numerous men die, watched them go overboard. Every sailor feared the briny deep, it was a source of constant wonder and terror. Even now, the three brothers worried they might go over. They very well could. In a storm mounting like this one, they ought to turn back.


    The captain could save them. He could. He could save them all, if only he would make the right decision and turn back now.


    The sun had nearly set somewhere behind those dark clouds, and all eyes looked up towards the helm, where Captain Benjamin Vhingfrith leaned against a railing, his grey silhouette just noticeable against a darkling sky. A flash of lightning framed him, his one glimmering eye piercing the darkness.


    When will the call come? the three men thought as one.


    Their feet slipped on the deck. A wave crashed against the port railing and they tasted seawater. ¡°It will happen fast, gentleman,¡± the captain had told them four hours ago when he roused them all from sleep and gathered them in the galley to tell them they were sailing into the storm. ¡°Quick¡¯s the word, sharp¡¯s the action. This Spanish gal will be good and pregnant, and should she head where I believe she will, she¡¯ll be easy to catch.¡±


    And the men had listened. And the men had believed. Why wouldn¡¯t they? Aside from that one catastrophic failure escaping Guadeloupe, when had Captain Vhingfrith ever been wrong? But he had been wrong, the three men thought as one, exchanging the thought with their eyes, which shone with both excitement and dread whenever lightning lit the world. What if he¡¯s wrong now?


    Lively jolted. It was a single, sharp scrape that moved from the front of the ship to her stern. The ship had grazed another coral head. That was the third one in as many minutes.


    ¡°Full six!¡± cried one of the linemen from port.


    Two minutes passed. Vhingfrith didn¡¯t move. No orders were given, none at all. The three brothers holding the capstan stared at him, waiting for the order to turn back.


    ¡°Five fathoms!¡± cried the lineman from starboard.


    All three men at the capstan looked up at Vhingfrith. Beside the wheel, the half-Negro captain remained leaning forward against the railing. He did not move. He gave no orders. Some of the men already hated him for who he was, for what he was, and it did not help that he had them in an enterprise with the Hazard, a known pirate vessel.


    I¡¯ll vote him off tomorrow, one of the brothers thought. We¡¯ll hold an emergency vote and remove him from the captaincy. I¡¯ll call for the bloody vote m¡¯self if I have to.


    Another of the brothers had thoughts to murder. Who would care about a murdered half-Negro who only obtained the captaincy because his white father had bequeathed him the ship? But this brother only entertained the thought.


    The man beside him had the knife all picked out. His name was Lawrence Burr.


    ¡°Full four!¡± cried both linemen.


    ¡°Make the goddamn call,¡± Burr muttered to himself. ¡°Stupid bastard, make the bloody call.¡±


    Faces all along the deck upturned. And yet still, the half-Negro did not budge. Lightning showed his slim frame, his red coat hanging from him like a wet curtain. The two gold rings on his right hand and the silver ring on his left hand glittered, and surely all three brothers at the capstan wondered if there were any laws that somehow protected a half-Negro from theft and murder. For full-blooded Negros, almost certainly there were none. But a half-Negro? One with his own ship and a letter of marque? One who had been baptized? Many of the sailors could not even read, but there were men of letters back in Nassau and Port Royal who did their thinking for them, and most of them seemed certain half-Negros had as few rights as full-blooded ones. Some said a half-Negro ought to have even less rights, since he was the result of unclean fornication.


    But ought to is different than has none, was a thought that slithered through each of their minds like a worm. Especially for Lawrence Burr.


    ¡°Three and one!¡± came the next call.


    The men on the deck all watched the captain. Vhingfrith cast his eyes up to the crow¡¯s nest. Miller was up there, giving hand signals, since no one could hear him above the roaring seas. Then Vhingfrith muttered something to Mr. Dawson, the man at the helm, and Dawson turned the wheel slowly to port. Deeper into the storm.


    We should turn away from this, the three brothers thought, and this time they were joined by the men up in the mainmast, ready to reef the sails, eager to do it. We should be away from these islands and cays. The corals will destroy us, if we aren¡¯t beached first. We should turn away! Damn him, why does he not turn us away?


    A loud scraping noise rattled the whole ship, and the planks beneath their feet juddered.


    ¡°Four fathoms!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± At last, Burr had had enough, and he left the capstan. Osterholm, the potbellied Jewish quartermaster, shouted at him, ¡°Burr! Back to your station!¡±


    But Lawrence Burr was determined, and he knew all eyes were on him, and he knew all the men aboard the Lively silently had his back, his two brothers especially. He climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck and stood a foot away from the lanky half-breed and shouted above the wind, ¡°Turn us back!¡±


    ¡°Mr. Burr, please show some constitution towards this¡ª¡± Vhingfrith began.


    ¡°Damned fool, turn us back, now!¡± Burr despised even hearing the half-breed¡¯s words, so elegantly spoken, like a man of upper-class rearing. Arrogant son of a bitch, to give himself such airs. It was despicable, and unnatural.


    ¡°I believe you have your post, Mr. Burr.¡±


    ¡°Turn us back¡ª¡±


    ¡°To your post, Mr. Burr!¡±


    ¡°My post! Says you! I¡¯m more than suited to any other job but you slap me and my brothers on the capstan whenever you¡¯re¡ª¡±


    ¡°You lied to me in port when I hired you. You said you were an ¡®able seaman.¡¯ But you were false with me. You¡¯re not much good with knots or carpentry, Mr. Burr, so I have to make use of you and your brothers somewhere¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know my knots, just not by your names, you arrogant cunt! Now turn us back¡ª¡±


    ¡°You have your post, Mr. Burr,¡± Vhingfrith said again. ¡°I will take this outburst as a mere symptom of nerves and the fact that you¡¯ve worked two shifts without sleep, for which I am grateful to you. Your hard work has been of great benefit to us all. Lively thanks you, too. She moves handsomely because of you all. Now, if you please.¡± Vhingfrith gestured benevolently towards the capstan.


    Burr felt the heat rising in his chest and face, and he nearly pulled the knife out of his pocket, he very nearly did. ¡°We¡ªare¡ªat¡ªfour¡ªbloody¡ªfathoms!¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re at four fathoms, Mr. Burr, then our quarry is likely in even more dire straits.¡± His accent was grating on the ears, Burr always felt, because it was so unnatural. The half-Negro ought to speak with the Negro accent, but instead his English was smooth and crisp, as proper as any Londoner Burr had ever met. The bastard spoke English with as much skill and dignity as he did Latin, French, and Spanish. An educated monster, a heathen with airs. Disgusting. ¡°I have it on good authority that the newest Spanish naos draw three fathoms, so her keel ought to be getting a good shave right about now. She¡¯s a bloated sow, trudging through mud. Do you understand? With any luck, I should think she¡¯ll spring a leak.¡±


    Burr¡¯s upper lip twitched without him knowing. But Vhingfrith saw it, just like he saw the fingers of each of Burr¡¯s hands curling slightly inward, contemplating fists. ¡°Even if so, them galleons have more than one bilge pump, and they¡¯re better than ours when¡ª¡±


    ¡°They do have spare pumps, Mr. Burr, they do, you¡¯re not wrong there. But each one requires work, manpower, and in the meantime the extra water will cause her to drag. In fact,¡± he added, tugging on a pair of gloves, ¡°I suspect this has already happened, judging by the degree she heels to and then stays there for several moments.¡±


    Vhingfrith pointed southeast, and Burr looked, but both of them knew it was now almost impossible to see the Spanish galleon in all this dark. Night had fully fallen. Even Miller up in the crow¡¯s nest had to wait for lightning to spot anything.


    Burr looked back at the captain, the ember of a challenge still sparking in his eyes. Lively suddenly heeled to one side and everyone hung on. A wall of seawater came over them and the ship groaned in protest. Burr clung to the same railing Vhingfrith held fast to, and he looked the black devil in his eye. The half-breed¡¯s throat was bare, just within reach. It would be so easy to open it, let him gargle on his own blood and then fall dead and be washed over the side. He considered it multiple times while the ship slewed and corrected. McCullough was on the tiller, and he was watching for Miller¡¯s hand signals. Most of the crewmen were blinded by darkness and seawater. Even Dawson was preoccupied with trying to manhandle the wheel.


    I could do it now, Burr thought. His hand moved to the knife. I could do it. And no one would care.


    ¡°When we were last in Port Royal,¡± Burr said, his voice low enough that the wind almost stole his words, so low that no one else could hear, ¡°you and I were in The Handsome Lady. You caught some o¡¯ the lads an¡¯ me playing dice. You gave us a warning. You remember that warning, Captain?¡±


    ¡°I do, Mr. Burr,¡± said Vhingfrith. The high collar of his long, red coat fluttered in the wind, concealing his lips. It was almost too dark to see his face, yet Benjamin Vhingfrith¡¯s left eye, which shone strangely silver by some birth defect no one could identify, glimmered like a cat¡¯s eye. ¡°I recall the very day, in fact.¡±


    ¡°Then you know that I was there when the papers were put into your hand! The ones that listed all pirates at sea to be considered enemies o¡¯ the Crown!¡± He nodded. Without thinking, his hand gripped the hilt of the knife. ¡°I saw the names, Captain. I saw them all.¡±


    ¡°Come to the point, Mr. Burr. We are in a delicate position and my focus is better spent on¡ª¡±


    ¡°We all know what a soft spot you have for the Ladyman. Some say it¡¯s an unnatural sentiment, but I would not insult you by suggesting somethin¡¯ so grotesque as¡ª¡±


    ¡°As what, Mr. Burr? As what?¡± The Devil¡¯s Son turned squarely to face him, and the cat¡¯s-eye flashed. ¡°Please, speak freely.¡±


    Burr almost said it, but then he saw his dilemma. In his agitation at this unnecessarily dangerous tactic, and in his rage at this half-breed giving himself airs, he had been too rash, and had forgotten that rumour-milling was seen as a crime on a ship. Gossip could tear crews apart, and unsubstantiated claims could render one¡¯s word forever in doubt. It could mean a lashing.


    And he would not get a lashing from any half-Negro cunt.


    Rain trickled down his face. It seemed the storm had suddenly eased. Burr changed tack, and spoke carefully now, yet each envenomed word showed clear his displeasure with the captain¡¯s arrogance. ¡°The responsibility of every captain is to the safety of his men. You¡¯ve pushed us out into an unnecessary gambit. In a storm. ¡¯Gainst a superior fucking ship¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mr. Burr, do you aver that I have abandoned my responsibility to my men?¡±


    Burr sneered. ¡°I do so fucking ¡®aver¡¯! And do not presume to give yourself airs¡ª¡±


    ¡°And will you get back to your post, Mr. Burr, and do your duty, as your captain has instructed?¡±


    ¡°Captain, beggin¡¯ your pardon, but I have my own fucking duty! A duty to my brothers and the other men¡ª¡±


    ¡°Will you return to your post?¡± Vhingfrith repeated.


    ¡°I will not!¡±


    ¡°What about the rest of the crew, Mr. Burr? Will you let them down¡ª¡±


    ¡°The rest o¡¯ the crew are bloody well on my side!¡±


    ¡°Say that again?¡±


    Burr drew the knife, half unsure what he was going to do with it. In the darkness, nobody saw it, he kept it close to his side. ¡°You¡¯ve allied us with an enemy of the¡ª¡±


    It was so dark he did not see the captain draw his pistol, he only heard the snap of the hammer falling into place, and saw the momentary flash of ignited gunpowder. Burr felt like he had been punched in the chest, and in his spine, all the wind knocked out of him, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not suck in any more air. The boom turned every head on deck. He staggered backward against the leeward rail. He fell on his arse, then slumped against the railing while Dawson and the others merely glanced at him.


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    Everyone kept working. That is what stunned Lawrence Burr the most as he felt darkness descending on him¡ªastonishment that no one broke from their work. Indeed, when he looked over at Gordon and Hoyt, his two brothers that had been working the capstan with him, the two brothers that had helped raise him, had brought him into a life at sea¡­he saw them return their full focus to their task.


    No one cares.


    They¡¯re all scared.


    Scared of him.


    Burr¡¯s grip melted, and the knife fell from his hand and skittered over the rail and into the sea.


    ¡°Mr. Galbraith, get rid of him, if you please,¡± said Vhingfrith coldly. The second mate moved to obey. And then the captain turned and handed the pistol to Jacobson, his first mate. ¡°Arrest me if you feel the need, Mr. Jacobson. Or wait till tomorrow and hold a vote. Or let me get back to England¡¯s work. Until then, I ask you to recall Article Nineteen.¡± He returned to his command at the helm. ¡°Mr. Dawson, how does she bear?¡±


    ¡°Er¡­¡± Dawson fumbled for words. ¡°Eh¡­storm seems to be easing up, sir¡­¡±


    Vhingfrith nodded curtly. ¡°Going by quarters winds, I¡¯d gauge?¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡± Dawson was still in a daze from the abrupt violence.


    Vhingfrith ploughed on. ¡°Keep her loof, fall not off.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Cap¡¯n. Keeping her near the wind.¡± He turned the wheel half a degree starboard.


    Jacobson did not arrest the captain. He stood by stoically, waiting to see what the others would do. Perhaps they were all recalling Article 19, as well: ¡°No man upon his ship shall utter any words of sedition or mutiny, under pain of death.¡±


    When no one challenged the captain, Jacobson decided not to, either. For now.


    Burr sat there gasping, hands going numb and mouth forming inarticulate noises. It felt like all sound was muffled, and coming from down a long, long tunnel. He goaded me. He goaded me to say the words of sedition. The thought had barely crossed Burr¡¯s mind when he saw a pair of large, booted feet cross the deck to him. The rough, callused hands of Mr. Galbraith grabbed Burr underneath his armpits. Burr tried to struggle but it was no good. Blood ran up to his throat and spouted from his mouth. Someone else grabbed his feet. Please, he tried to mutter. Please no, have mercy. But only a single, plaintive utterance was noted by the wind, the faintest whimper.


    And then he was over the side and in the water and gone.


    ____


    Captain Benjamin Vhingfrith stood exactly where he had been when he killed Lawrence Burr. That the crew watched him with burning hatred from bow to stern he was lazily aware. But his thoughts were elsewhere. He had been trying to guess the Ladyman¡¯s plan for hours, and had little luck, but now that plan finally began to come into focus. No single sloop or brig could ever have hoped to take on a ship of the line, nor could two smaller ships prove even adversarial. Not commonly. But Benjamin had trusted the Ladyman enough to follow his ship on a parallel course, and it seemed to be paying off in a most unusual way. Lively had experienced her last scrapes of coral around the time Burr made his foolish move, and that had been one turn of the glass ago¡ªhalf an hour¡ªand so Benjamin now breathed a little easier. These cays were somewhat known to him, but the Ladyman knew them best, these were his hunting grounds. He knew the Spanish ship¡¯s heading, and he knew these cays, and he predicted exactly when the storm would transform from a squall into something else, and then back again. How?


    ¡°Think we cleared the outer reef, Cap¡¯n,¡± Dawson called over a roll of thunder.


    Vhingfrith only nodded. His eyes were trained on Hazard, who appeared in a flash of lightning about two hundred yards to starboard. Most islands had two reefs¡ªa shallow inner reef and a deeper one offshore. Somehow, Captain Laurier had navigated cleanly between the two, and by following close, by trusting the Ladyman, Vhingfrith¡¯s ship had also made it through unscathed. Well, almost. There was a small breach below that men were working to plug with oakum.


    ¡°We cleared the outer reef,¡± Dawson repeated. ¡°But that galleon¡­looks to me like she might¡¯ve gotten caught too close to the inner one.¡±


    Vhingfrith nodded again. His helmsman had just stolen his very thought. ¡°The wind carried her where she struggled not to go,¡± he said. ¡°The Spaniards opened all sails to make speed but that meant fighting the gale. The galleon has likely had many breaches, she¡¯s taking on water.¡± He looked up at the sky. ¡°And now this storm begins to dissipate, giving us an opportunity. The Ladyman knew exactly how to drive these Spaniards.¡±


    ¡°Beg pardon, sir, but Spaniards are awful seamen, and that is at least half the reason the galleon now struggles.¡±


    Notoriously awful, Benjamin thought. But that still doesn¡¯t rob the Ladyman of any merits for his maneuver.


    ¡°How did you know she was out here, Cap¡¯n? If you don¡¯t mind me askin¡¯.¡±


    ¡°The Hazard, you mean?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    Vhingfrith scratched irritably at the two-day stubble on his chin. He clapped Dawson on the back and leaned in, speaking close to his ear, so to be heard over a rough wind. ¡°A packet ship arrived in Nassau six weeks ago. A few communiques were delivered, their contents concerning the sightings of Spanish ships in the area, pirate vessels spotted here and there.¡± Packet ships were fast vessels used only to carry communications. They were usually only put to use by the Royal Navy, but privateers in good standing (like Vhingfrith) could sometimes use them to send or receive messages. ¡°There was a letter for me from the Dolphin. Her captain said he¡¯d been tasked to deliver a message on behalf of the captain of the Hazard, who said he would be out this way.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Captain Laurier knew Lively likes to hide in the cays here, and that we often strike from the coves, so he decided to invite us in on this plunder.¡±


    Dawson¡¯s eyes went wide. He made an adjustment to their steering, then said, ¡°The Ladyman knows where we anchor, sir?¡±


    ¡°It would appear so. How else did he know where to find me?¡± He smiled at the helmsman¡¯s discomfort. ¡°Calm yourself, Mr. Dawson. Hazard¡¯s still on England¡¯s side. At least,¡± he amended, ¡°she¡¯s not on Phillip¡¯s.¡± The ship heeled, though not as greatly as before. Now that they were clear of the coral heads the steering was less treacherous and much more manageable. He hollered above the roaring waves, ¡°At any rate, the Ladyman¡¯s message said he¡¯d heard rumour of a nao moving through these waters, ferrying silk, spice, a few slaves, and possibly gold, and that we ought to keep a lookout, and that if our spotters on the island saw Hazard giving chase, we were invited to lend a hand and split the prize.¡±


    Dawson winced. ¡°And you trusted her¡ªer, him, sir? You trusted the Ladyman?¡±


    ¡°And why not? The last time I trusted him he saved my father¡¯s life, and gifted him the very ship you¡¯re now steering.¡±


    While Dawson worked that out, Vhingfrith looked back to the leeward rail. It was hard to believe, but despite all the seawater and rain there was still a sizable smear of Lawrence Burr¡¯s blood across the planks. He hoped that it did not permanently stain the wood. He would make sure it didn¡¯t, even if it meant scrubbing it himself. No need to leave a constant reminder for others to brood on. Most of the men hated him enough already.


    Burr had been well liked, his brothers Hoyt and Gordon were still there working the capstan, and his death might just mean the crew was finally, and irrevocably, poisoned against him.


    That means getting a whole new crew when we get to port. If I survive that long.


    Hoyt and Gordon Burr were full brothers, and Lawrence Burr, the man Benjamin had just shot, had been adopted. Vhingfrith had included that in his calculations before shooting the man. He made it his business to know these things. Osterholm, his quartermaster, kept him apprised of the background and overall mood of each man, as well as the unique chemistry they created through their bonds. He knew Hoyt and Gordon had always hated their adopted brother, and had even tried drowning him when they were teenagers. Lawrence had gotten them into all sorts of trouble with the law, even drawing the ire of the king¡¯s militia on St. Kitts.


    But still, he was their brother. If it had been them doing the killing, it would be no matter. But I am the Negro captain who shot him, and that will not sit well for long.


    And then there¡¯s Jacobson. He¡¯s wanted command of a ship his whole life, and felt cheated when my father bequeathed Lively to me, bypassing his seniority. Vhingfrith glanced over at the first mate. Euric Jacobson had spent many years away from Vhingfrith, looking for his own captaincy in Nassau, to no avail, and now, out of desperation, and no doubt a cask¡¯s worth of shame, he had returned, hat in hand, and with a group of friends who now worked the Lively¡¯s decks. Doubtless, they would feel better with Jacobson in charge. Doubtless.


    So it was true, Vhingfrith would soon be in dire need of a new crew.


    He hated to do it, many of these men were terrific seamen, if a little too fixated on rum and singing at times. Not only that, but Vhingfrith¡¯s reputation and background made it difficult to find people willing to sail under him, men who would continue to vote him in as captain without extra shares tossed their way. He wasn¡¯t just the half-Negro who spoke many languages, making them all feel inferior to his intellect, he was also the half-Negro that had utterly failed to secure the treasure at Guadeloupe and lost almost half his crew. It was getting more and more difficult to find people that had not heard of him, and were not concerned about sailing under the captaincy of a man who was the product of a white man and an African slave.


    Another flash of lightning gave the lookout a clear sight of their target. High in his crow¡¯s nest, Miller shouted something while giving hand signals.


    ¡°How does he make it?¡± asked Dawson, who knew the captain saw unnaturally well in the dark, and could therefore make out Miller¡¯s signals.


    ¡°Half a mile,¡± Vhingfrith answered, putting his long glass to his left eye¡ªwith his left, he could see almost as clearly as daytime. He saw Miller¡¯s assessment was correct. ¡°Running east. She¡¯s hard abeam.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s time, then, yes? She¡¯s in the shoals deep enough, just like you wanted. Shall I change course?¡±


    Vhingfrith lowered the glass, and tapped his fingers against it. ¡°Fathoms?¡± he cried.


    Carlson, the lineman, shouted back, ¡°Full four, Captain!¡±


    Vhingfrith nodded. Those shoals were awful close, and he was desirous to avoid them.


    ¡°Shall I change course, Captain?¡± Dawson demanded edgily. His tar-stained fingers clutched the wheel like a child afraid to let go of a parent¡¯s hand.


    Here were the tense moments of sailing. It was always uncertainty. Anything could go wrong, because it was impossible to know exactly what was beneath them. Even if they had known yesterday, the seafloor was always in flux, and sandbars could shift and change shape entirely, they could rise and fall, and it would all be invisibly done beneath the waves.


    Vhingfrith reached out to touch the wheel, feeling the pressure it exerted against his palm. Something scraped the hull on the starboard side and he felt the cant of the deck beneath his feet. He watched the vibration of each piece of rigging, looked at the position of each man around his yardarm. He felt Lively drag for a moment and she slewed, and he knew the cargo had shifted. He could even sense how much water was in the bilge.


    All this he sensed with a mere touch of the wheel. Before becoming a captain of anything, Benjamin had been a pilot for his father, aboard this ship and others. It had made him quite sensitive to a ship¡¯s soul.


    He again put the long glass to his left eye. Beside him, he felt the helmsman growing impatient with him¡ªDawson wanted an answer, or else his own faith might waver. Perhaps more men were feeling it, some of them contemplating doing what Lawrence Burr had just attempted, only in greater numbers. If they did attack him soon, he knew who would be their leader. Jacobson, who had already accepted the captain¡¯s discarded pistol, would try his best to discredit the captain. The only question was, would he wait until after this maneuver was done, or try something before?


    Lively rose and fell, rose and fell, cresting one wave and then plunging down the other side.


    The storm was easy, but the waters were still in some turmoil. Rain became a drizzle.


    After a twelve-foot swell passed in front of his glass, Vhingfrith saw the galleon clear by lightning flash. How does she bear, son? his father¡¯s voice whispered on the wind. It was an instructive tone, with a fairy¡¯s touch of challenge to it. She¡¯s broad on the starboard abeam, Father, but she¡¯s turning again. Ahead a point.


    ¡°Captain, the course!¡± Dawson yelled.


    ¡°Change course,¡± he said calmly, and turned to his quartermaster. ¡°Mr. Osterholm?¡±


    ¡°Ready about!¡± the Jew screamed, only too eager to get on with it.


    Men jumped to their halyards, some of them swinging from one spar to the next by use of the netting. Vhingfrith had prepared them with the routine hours ago, and here was the moment. They were hastily changing tack. Hoyt and Gordon turned the capstan, and were joined by Galbraith, who wordlessly threw his back into it. They dropped a single anchor to starboard. Club-hauling is a tactic often mentioned in officer training but rarely ever practiced, his father had taught him. There is an element of danger to it, especially in such dense corals. The anchor drags on the seafloor and helps to turn the ship heavily to that side. But only a master may attempt this. A master who knows his ship well.


    Vhingfrith¡¯s father had known this tactic well; he had performed it more than once, with the Ladyman aiding him. In fact, it was in a storm such as this where Vhingfrith first joined battle with Laurier, and knew their destinies were going to be forever intertwined.


    He reached up and touched the silver locket that hung from his neck, and remembered their blood-vow. Many times, he had thought about throwing the locket away, but he could never quite bring himself to do it. He could never be rid of John Laurier.


    Dawson swung the wheel first hard aport, then hard to starboard, and kept turning it. They all hung on, leaning against the turn. Waves crashed up over the side and Lively¡¯s cut-water sliced through foaming, resistant water. Lightning split the sky once more and showed them their target, bobbing on the sea, much closer now.


    In less than a minute the maneuver was over and Vhingfrith ordered the anchor drawn back up. The men working the capstan screamed as they fought with their handles. A geyser of seawater nearly knocked them all off their feet. It arced over them like a black tunnel and a man was washed overboard and lost. Hoyt and Gordon Burr glared balefully at the captain.


    Their new course settled, Vhingfrith raised the glass to his cat¡¯s-eye. There was no doctor either in the Bahamas nor in England that could diagnose his particular birth defect, nor could they explain why it made the one eye capable of seeing so well in darkness. One doctor, though, said he had heard of one such instance during his time in India, and said the fellow with the cat¡¯s-eye affliction had eventually gone blind in the eye, and had also died suddenly one day, young and seemingly fit. It was unclear if the defect had anything to do with his mysterious death, so for all Vhingfrith knew he was living on borrowed time.


    The single silvery eye, which shimmered even in the dark, and especially when it caught moonlight, had always alarmed those around Benjamin, and made his own mother believe he might be touched by devils. It had earned him the nickname ¡°Devil¡¯s Son¡± over on Nassau, though none on his crew called him that. At the moment, all Benjamin cared about the defect was its use as a tool to stalk his prey in the night. And the Ladyman is counting on the cat¡¯s-eye, too.


    Vhingfrith saw clearly the stern. Even as the Spanish galleon struggled like a shark in netting, it could neither get free of the shoals nor shake loose its two pursuers.


    ¡°God in heaven,¡± Dawson breathed. ¡°It worked. It worked! We¡¯re dead set behind her!¡±


    Vhingfrith looked through his glass. The nao was trying a new tack. She would not make it, though, her sails were luffing. In trying to turn enough to avoid shallow waters she had lost the wind. It was the last desperate attempt of a cornered beast. And now it was time to close in. ¡°Mr. Osterholm,¡± he called. ¡°Hoist the flag.¡±


    ¡°Sir,¡± said the heavyset man, ¡°the Hazard¡¯s already hoisted the black.¡±


    ¡°Then hoist the Union Jack! Let the Spaniard captain see a pirate vessel on one side of him, and an English privateer on the other. It won¡¯t make sense to him, but the captain might surrender, if he¡¯s smart. And hang a lantern beside the flag¡ªno, hang two¡ªso he can make it out in all this dark.¡± He shrugged. ¡°But if the Spaniards are stubborn it¡¯ll be a few salvos and then boarding action. Understood?¡±


    Osterholm was a heavy-jowled man, with a face chiseled in granite and pocked by acne scars. His forehead had a huge dent in it where someone had struck him with an axe ages ago. It gave him a permanent quizzical brow. ¡°Sir, we are outgunned,¡± Osterholm said. ¡°Maybe we ought wait till she¡¯s been swamped or¡ª¡±


    ¡°Half her gunports cannot open.¡±


    The Jew shrugged. ¡°That still leaves the other half.¡±


    ¡°Not at the moment. She¡¯s taking on water, on my oath as captain. Many of her men will be bending their backs towards saving her. Some of those cannons will never fire, and even at the best of times those Spaniards usually miss. In a storm like this, they¡¯ve no chance.¡±


    ¡°Until we get closer.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯ll fire at her arse first, weaken her. Now step lively, Mr. Osterholm!¡±


    ¡°Aye aye, sir.¡± By habit, Osterholm, a former Navy man, snapped off a salute and ran off to convey the command.


    Vhingfrith felt the presence of many ghosts standing behind him, watching over his shoulder, waiting for the mix-breed captain to make a mistake. He sensed Toby, the slave boy who hanged himself on his father¡¯s plantation. He sensed Gabriel the cook, who he¡¯d left marooned on an unnamed island. The last Vhingfrith saw of him he was gazing balefully at the Lively from the shore.


    And he sensed Lawrence Burr¡¯s ghost, having entered the spirit world just now, and leering at him, trying to coax Vhingfrith into making a single mistake that would cost him.


    And why shouldn¡¯t you want one, Mr. Burr? Any mistake made now will be compounded in the crew¡¯s mind by the memory of your death. But if we are successful, your death will be forgotten, the men will have treasure and rum, they will see your death as a necessary evil to completing our task, your brothers will get extra shares and be fain shot of you. And your ghost will be left out here in the waters, alone.


    An unseasonably chill wind blew past his ear. It brought a promise from Lawrence Burr. Perhaps. But if all goes well for me, Captain Vhingfrith, I will not be alone tonight. I¡¯ve got a spot all picked out for you, here in the briny deep.

 Chapter 3: Boarding Action

    sloop-of-war ¨C A sixty- to seventy-foot vessel with a single gun deck, and four sakers (medium cannons), and swivel-mounted guns pointed fore and aft. She can sail closer to the wind than larger ships, and maneuver shoals and narrow channels far better. Three men can crew her in a pinch, ten is preferable, and more crew is needed if your intent is to fire cannons and board enemy ships. The more men you add to any ship, however, the more it affects her displacement (weight), and thus her handling.


    HAZARD LISTED UNHAPPILY as she cleared the next coral head. Dobbs both felt and heard the scraping, and reached up to a rafter to hold on as he and the Frenchman tilted to port, and all the black bilgewater splashed up against the portside wall and came back at them and consumed them up to the neck. Dobbs experienced a bout of lurching horror. Like most sailors, he could not swim, and was terrified of drowning. His mother had once had a nightmare he would drown at sea. Upon his leaving for the Caribbean, she had wept and begged him not to leave. Her wails had followed him out to sea.


    ¡°Steady on,¡± said LaCroix, sensing the boy¡¯s fear. Else he had heard the unmanly whimper Dobbs let out just before the water reached his throat. It was so cold, and underneath the black water things bumped into him, random debris, and childish fears gave cause to manifest all sorts of inimical creatures swimming around him, as impossible as that seemed. He envisioned Holcomb, the man they had lost three months back to the waves, rising up from the water and grabbing him by the hair and dragging him down¡ªdown into Davy Jones¡¯s¡ª


    ¡°Steady on, Dobbs!¡± The Frenchman had learned that English phrase only weeks ago, Dobbs knew, and he used it incessantly.


    The scraping continued, and the ship swayed back the other way. The water sloshed back down to waist level, having settled a bit, and they got back to working the pump. Dobbs had long ago gotten used to the stench of dozens of unwashed men all living in close proximity to one another, but the bilge¡­it was his least favourite task aboard any ship, and the last stench he had to face. It smelled of piss and shit and decay and stagnation.


    ¡°You work it alone a moment,¡± said the Frenchman. He walked over to a floating toolbox.


    ¡°Where¡ªare you¡ªgoing?¡± panted Dobbs. His arms burned from the sustained effort of working the lever.


    LaCroix opened the toolbox and pulled out a hammer with a wide head and a short handle, then waded through the water until he reached a crate fastened to the wall. He tore off its lid and reached inside and pulled out a metal jar that was familiar to Dobbs. LaCroix waded over to where the new leaks had sprung and used a floating stool beside him to hold the jar above water, and took gobs of oakum out of the jar and drove them into the leaks with wooden wedges, then hammered the wedges to stave off the leaks.


    Someone poked their head down the stairs and shouted, ¡°Cap¡¯n says we¡¯re readying fer boarding action! Says get this water outta our bellies an¡¯ get us lighter! Kepler says our handlin¡¯ is fucked!¡± Sounded like Walker, another ship¡¯s carpenter they picked up in Port Royal.


    ¡°We¡¯re going¡ªas fast¡ªas we can!¡± Dobbs shouted back.


    ¡°Who is that?¡± Walker came farther down the stairs and brought his lantern with him, and flashed it in first LaCroix¡¯s direction, then Dobbs¡¯s.


    ¡°Dobbs? I was jes lookin¡¯ fer you! Who the bloody hell put you down here?¡±


    ¡°Abner.¡±


    ¡°Abner? For fuck¡¯s sakes, sometimes I wonder about his¡ªget out! I¡¯ll take over!¡± He splashed through the water and handed Dobbs his lantern.


    ¡°Abner said¡ª¡±


    ¡°That was before we was takin¡¯ on more water¡¯n a Spanish whore in the drink! ¡¯Sides, Cap¡¯n says he¡¯s got somethin¡¯ else planned fer yeh!¡±


    LaCroix looked affronted. ¡°The boy is helping me!¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯ll take over!¡±


    ¡°You are old! And you talk too much! I¡¯ve told Abner I don¡¯t like working with¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up, LaCroix!¡±


    ¡°?a me fait chier!¡±


    ¡°Talk English!¡±


    Dobbs stepped back from the pump, blisters bleeding across his hands. ¡°What does the captain want with¡ª?¡±


    ¡°God¡¯s blood, son! When you get an order, yeh follow it, ¡¯specially when it comes from the Ladyman. Now go! He¡¯s waitin¡¯ at the helm fer yeh!¡±


    Dobbs said nothing else. As he ascended the stairs, he was secretly grateful to be out of the cold, stinking water, and extremely thankful to be away from the two men arguing below. Even when he closed the trapdoor behind, Dobbs could still hear Walker and LaCroix shouting abuse at one another. He worried about that. Walker might think Abner made a poor quartermaster, but Dobbs thought the exact opposite. For were it not for Abner, Walker might have stabbed LaCroix to death a month ago during a late-night game of dice. Both men¡¯s bellies had been brimming over with rum, having taken more than their allowed share, and there had been a previous accusation of the Frenchman cheating at such games. The old rumour resurfaced when LaCroix won at dice, and then again at fanorona, and Dobbs had been there to see them at each other¡¯s throats, and to watch Abner barely reach them in time.


    Dobbs felt afraid even as he headed back up. No one had spoken about the incident between Walker and the Frenchman since it happened. He prayed it did not come up again with them two alone, in the dark, in the water¡­


    Walker¡¯s wrong, Abner¡¯s no fool. He knows to keep them apart, that¡¯s why he sent me down here instead.


    Hazard heeled to port heavily and there came another loud scraping against the hull, signaling another impact with a coral head. And he thought he heard Holcomb out there, screaming to get in through the hull¡­


    The scraping sound carried on. Dobbs felt it beneath his feet, heard it travel from bow to stern. But it was not as bad as the others, and Hazard recovered nicely. In the hands of Alexander Kepler, Hazard always felt like she had a mind of her own, like she knew exactly what she was about. Knowing Kepler was at the helm made Dobbs feel like he was being carried on the shoulders of a trusted uncle.


    When he reached the main deck, all appeared to be in chaos, yet he knew it was not so. Seawater and drizzle sprayed his face as the ship righted herself again. The motion threw him into Isaacson. The leery-eyed man scowled down at Dobbs through his patchy blond beard, but he continued on. Isaacson had come to Dobbs¡¯s hammock two months ago, drunk, and tried to get the boy¡¯s trousers down. Presumably to bugger him. Luckily, Dobbs¡¯s cries had summoned Tomlinson and Jenkins in time. They beat Isaacson a bit, and swore both him and Dobbs to secrecy. ¡°We¡¯ll never speak of this again, understood?¡± Jenkins had insisted.


    Dobbs had agreed, thankful he had heeded his father¡¯s advice from all those years ago to make friends with at least one of the new crewmen, and one of the senior crewmen, as soon as he got on a ship. Befriend a new crewman so he¡¯ll be fresh as you, and willing to look after one like himself, and make friends with a senior crewman, because he¡¯ll have the experience you need to advance. It¡¯ll come in handy, my boy, to have friends, when you¡¯re stuck out at sea.


    The boy found the Ladyman at the helm, arguing some point about their course with Kepler and Abner. Captain Laurier had a musket in his hand. When Dobbs approached, Abner pointed at him, and the captain turned to aim that rakish grin at Dobbs. While the rouge around the Ladyman¡¯s cheeks was leaking in the rain, the lipstick held cleanly to his lips, with no smearing or leaking at all. Dobbs had always wondered how he managed that, and chalked it up to one more of the Ladyman¡¯s secrets.


    And those mysteries were close to the boy¡¯s heart. Dobbs minced no words when he spoke of his love for the captain to others. The Ladyman was mythical in his mind, a creature of both shadow and substance, with the bold heart of a lion and the cunning grace of an eel, and he managed his ship with an eye to every detail, like the ravens back home in Stirling, assiduously arranging their nests and aware of all who approached them. Dobbs¡¯s admiration of Captain Laurier was known amongst the men¡ªDobbs had been sailing with Laurier for two years now, which was more than some of these men had been in the Caribbean.


    He loved Laurier for his courage, he loved him for his cleverness, he loved him for his loyalty, but most of all Dobbs loved him because he treated neither the boy¡¯s youth nor his missing eye as a detriment. Indeed, men that had made light of Dobbs¡¯s missing eye, or tried to give him a demeaning nickname because of it, had been set straight by the Ladyman. One such individual, named Hobgood, had mocked Dobbs openly, and then had gone missing one night after the captain had words with him about it. Everyone knew what became of him, but none spoke of it.


    On this ship, aboard the feared Hazard, there existed a place for folk like Dobbs. He could never again return to Scotland or England, or else he would face judgment for his father¡¯s crimes. The Ladyman cared for none of that. All that he cared for was Dobbs¡¯s capacity to tie stopper¡¯s knots, shroud knots, and square knots, and his ability to learn quickly those abilities for which he had never had previous training. The Ladyman only cared about one¡¯s willingness to drive Hazard towards another cay or island. All his thoughts were marshalled around that, the never-ending search for prize and treasure.


    ¡°Mr. Dobbs,¡± said Captain Laurier, handing him the musket. ¡°I trust you know what to do with this.¡±


    As soon as the musket was in his hands, Dobbs looked up to the netting that hung from a damaged yardarm, and the crow¡¯s nest beyond it. He looked back to the Ladyman. ¡°In this weather, Captain?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard Scottish soldiers learn quickly how to compensate for wind before shooting. You get lots of wind up there, don¡¯t you, son?¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m not Scottish, sir. Nor a soldier.¡±


    ¡°No, but your father was both before he became a sailor. Unless I¡¯m misremembering?¡±


    ¡°No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, he was from Scotland.¡±


    ¡°And he taught you to shoot like God¡¯s judgment, unless all the examples I¡¯ve seen of you were conjured in some fever dream.¡±


    ¡°No, sir,¡± Dobbs answered, but a crack of thunder stole his words, and so he had to repeat louder. ¡°No, sir!¡±


    ¡°Then climb up to the nest and make ready yourself. Jenkins is already up there, and I¡¯ve told him who your targets are to be.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good lad. And Dobbs?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir?¡±


    ¡°Like God¡¯s judgment. You understand?¡±


    ¡°God¡¯s judgment. Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a lad. Make us proud.¡±


    It was, Dobbs thought, about the most appreciated and loved he had felt since his father died. A man was prized here, if he could sail, even a young man.


    He smiled. ¡°I will, sir.¡±


    Fire leapt to his chest. As soon as he was down the stairs, Dobbs hung the musket around his shoulder by the strap and pushed past the men all coming up from belowdecks. They were being given sabres and cutlasses. The cutlasses were the first to get snatched up; though they were single-edged, the short, straight blade was designed to be used in close-quarters fighting, whereas the sabres were meant for infantryman on horseback to scythe at large swathes of enemies. But the men of Hazard were not privateers, they had no access to England¡¯s armory. The weapons they had on board were either purchased secondhand at port or gathered piecemeal from raids.


    Owens, the long-legged navigator, came running up from below with a box full of pistols and started handing them out. Every man shoved his way forward to get one and tucked it in his waist. Every man, and Anne Bonny. The only female crewman aboard the Hazard swaggered up from the deck, wearing only a blouse, pants, and a tarpaulin for a cloak. No shoes. Her long red hair whipped around her neck like a serpent trying to strangle her.


    Dobbs feared her, and always gave her a wide berth. She did not seem to notice him. Indeed, Dobbs was not even sure she knew he existed.


    The wind picked up as he started up the mainmast netting with a will. He paused along the ratlines whenever Hazard heeled to one side or the other, then continued the climb when she straightened out. At the top, Jenkins let out a howl of laughter as he reached over the side and grabbed the boy by the breeches and hauled him into the bucket.


    ¡°Well, lookee what Neptune coughed up!¡± Long, stringy hair was pasted to Jenkins¡¯s face. Jenkins held three fingers up to the sky, forming the symbol of Neptune¡¯s trident. It was an age-old and nearly forgotten ritual, appeasing the Roman god of the sea. ¡°Reckon the captain has a soft spot for you, Dobbs? He sure trusts you enough for the delicate work. Ready to do some killin¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Where is she?¡±


    ¡°Are you dumb, or did no one tell you? She¡¯s there!¡±


    Dobbs turned around awkwardly in the tiny bucket-shaped nest, and saw naught but darkness. That is, until lightning lanced across the sky, and then he saw the nao about five hundred yards ahead and slightly to port. The Spanish galleon heeled like a drunken sow, and he could only imagine how much water she had taken on, and how many leaks she had sprung from the same corals Hazard had been grazing.


    But she won¡¯t be grazing them. She¡¯s been riding too low in the water, smashing into the coral without control. The tactic was a favourite of Captain Laurier¡¯s¡ªDobbs had seen him use it twice before¡ªand it worked because no one else could pull it off but him, and so the Spaniards had no reason to train their people against it. Either by luck or skill or a combination of both, Laurier alone could made it work.


    Dobbs waited for another flash to see her by. God¡¯s blood, but she was huge! The nao was tall, no less than a hundred twenty feet at the waterline, he was sure, and she had five decks total, the top two being gun decks. The lowermost gunports were staying shut, lest they took on water. Word had passed around that Captain Laurier had planned this. Dobbs smiled, knowing it was true. Many of the newer crewmen did not know of the captain¡¯s genius. There were few as devilish as the Ladyman, and few as predatory when it came to a wounded duck.


    But the top gunports¡­Those will be a problem. They were still open, the blunt snouts of each cannon visible in the next two flashes of lightning. The reason he could make them out, even though he faced the nao¡¯s stern, was because she was performing the occasional erratic zigzag. It was the standard defence against a ship attacking from behind¡ªswerve to make the ship¡¯s arse a harder target to hit.


    ¡°Who am I shooting?¡± he shouted above thunder.


    ¡°It¡¯s where you¡¯re shooting, son,¡± Jenkins said, patting him on the back. Jenkins had been one of the men to save him from Isaacson¡¯s assault, and ever since then, Dobbs had caught Jenkins passing by his hammock at night, just before they all got some sleep, as if patrolling the area for the boy¡¯s safety. Dobbs¡¯s father would be proud the boy had made some friends.


    ¡°Where am I shooting, then?¡±


    Jenkins held on a moment while Hazard heeled, then steadied. He pointed high. ¡°There.¡±


    Dobbs followed his finger. ¡°The crow¡¯s nest?¡±


    Jenkins shouted above the wind and thunder. ¡°There, or anywhere along the masts. You and I¡¯ll spot men in the rigging. I¡¯ll call out the targets, and you shoot. Since we¡¯ve got her stern facing us, we may get a glimpse o¡¯ the helmsman, ¡¯specially when the nao climbs a wave. If we do, he takes priority.¡± He held up a bag of shot and another bag of gunpowder. ¡°While I reload for you, you be looking for another target. Savvy, lad?¡±


    ¡°Yes. But this wind¡­it¡¯ll mess with my shot.¡±


    ¡°You only need to harry them. Scare them. If you happen to kill one, then that¡¯s a lovely little extra! Captain says you come from Scotland. You learned to fire in heavy winds?¡±


    ¡°My father came from there. I traveled there with him for a time. He taught me what he knew. I thought I¡¯d end up soldiering like him¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hold up a moment!¡± Jenkins looked over the edge and shouted, ¡°Three hundred yards!¡± He made some signals with his hand in case no one heard him. Back to Dobbs, he said, ¡°What range do you think you need to be at to fire accurately?¡±


    ¡°Normally a hundred yards. In these winds¡­?¡± He trailed off, thinking. ¡°Less than fifty. Maybe seventy or eighty if I can gauge the wind fast enough and compensate.¡±


    ¡°Then get ready, boy. We¡¯re closing on her fast. And so is she.¡±


    ¡°Who¡ª¡± Dobbs looked west where Jenkins was gesturing, and after a few moments, another bolt of lightning revealed a fast-moving brig slicing through the waves, no more than two hundred yards to port. ¡°Who are they? More pirates? Are we racing them for the prize?¡±


    ¡°No, son. That there¡¯s the Lively.¡±


    Dobbs thought he had heard him wrong, and let out a little laugh. ¡°Get on! Who is it, really?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, lad, that ship there belongs to the Devil¡¯s Son!¡±


    ¡°Lively? But what¡¯s she doing here?¡± The fear seized his heart for a moment. Vhingfrith and his cohorts had assisted, in a way, in past raids made by Hazard and her crew, certainly, but the last Dobbs had heard at port, privateers loyal to England had been issued a list of ships and captains labeled as pirates, and that they were to capture or kill them all. In fact, he had heard that Vhingfrith had already turned to this mission, and hunted down numerous pirates already and seen them hanged in Nassau and Port Royal.


    Previously, England had been somewhat tolerant of pirate vessels, as long as they only harassed Spanish vessels. It had become common for pirate vessels to simply swim up alongside Spanish merchantmen, dock with them, and cordially ask for half of their stores and other cargo before sending them on their merry way. Some Spanish merchants even carried extra cargo just for this purpose, considering it a kind of expected tax. Publicly, England disavowed these actions, but even if caught, pirates were often given lenient sentences, so long as they did not attack English vessels or colonies.


    That all changed three years ago, when Woodes Rogers sailed to Madagascar and began gathering information on pirating activity. Dobbs did not fully understand all the politics, he had only heard Captain Laurier and others speak of it, but Rogers was himself a privateer and claimed, in a written publication somewhere, that he saw the rise in piracy as alarming, and predicted that if it was not got under control, it would produce a people willing to take revolutionary action against England. There was even fear this rebellious mindset could spread to the Colonies.


    ¡°Has the captain gone mad?¡± Dobbs said, not meaning to say it aloud. ¡°Benjamin Vhingfrith is a pirate-hunter now.¡±


    Jenkins heard him and guffawed and slapped him on back.


    Dobbs had a moment of doubt. Rare for him with Captain Laurier. But it seemed as though the Ladyman might have finally miscalculated. By allying himself with a pirate-hunter and privateer, he put them all in danger. Perhaps Abner was right when he said the Ladyman may be in league with devils, he thought. Maybe Tomlinson and Edgars was right when they said the Ladyman is the spawn of a siren and a drowned sailor¡ª


    ¡°Now, how do you want to position yourself for best aim?¡± Jenkins asked.


    Dobbs shook away the momentary doubt. He took another moment to stare over at the Lively, the brig cutting through the waves with very little heeling, her nose aimed almost perfectly at the stern of the nao. She had found a good course. They were now at the edge of the storm and Dobbs wondered absently if Captain Laurier had planned all of this, too. He wondered again if Laurier was half siren, like the stories said, and if that let him know the mind of the storm¡­


    The captain of the Lively himself was said to be kissed by devils. Though both Lively and Hazard had docked with one another before, Dobbs had never gone aboard the other ship, had never actually seen her captain. The stories of Vhingfrith¡¯s single glittering cat¡¯s-eye had made it back to him, though, through the lips of Kepler and Abner and some of the others, and he wondered if they were only pulling his leg.


    ¡°Well?¡± Jenkins urged. ¡°Speak up, lad! What do you need?¡±


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    He finally tore his gaze away from the Lively and set it on the dark shape materializing just ahead. Dobbs said, ¡°Just give me room.¡± Dobbs positioned his left leg behind him and set the rifle against his left shoulder. There would be no steadier way to hold the rifle than to set it on the rail of the crow¡¯s nest and kneel slightly to peer down its barrel. He used the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to slightly boost it up and act as a swivel.


    ¡°Cap¡¯n says you have a, uh¡­what did he call it¡­a preternatural gift for shooting,¡± Jenkins said. ¡°Says when it comes to pistols and muskets, you are blessed by angels. That true?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve shot my fair share,¡± Dobbs said humbly.


    A flash of lightning revealed they were at least within a hundred yards. It would take a bit of luck for more lightning to reveal more targets, so he decided he would aim for any men he saw moving little or none at all amid the sheets and rigging, that way they would likely be close to where he had been pointing during the previous flash.


    ¡°Captain says he expects the nao to start pulling in all her sheets soon,¡± said Jenkins, close to the boy¡¯s ear. ¡°Says she¡¯ll need to bleed off some speed if she wants to navigate what¡¯s ahead. Says the water only gets shallower¡­so aim for the t¡¯gallant, that¡¯ll likely be reefed first.¡±


    Dobbs gave only a fractional nod, not wanting to move his eye too much, lest he be even a smidgen off when the lightning came.


    When it finally made an appearance, he was somewhat alarmed to find they were much closer than the dark shadow ahead of him indicated. The Spanish ship was now less than sixty yards away, and there was no doubt! More, she was heeling badly. There came the first flashes and booms of cannonfire. Dobbs heard wood splintering down below, and thought he felt something cut the air close to his head.


    During the flash of lightning, he spied two men amid the rigging, one of them holding fast to the netting near the square-rigged sail above the topsails. He focused on that. And even when the world went dark again and all that was left was the roar of the wind in his ear, Dobbs followed the enemy¡¯s huge shadow. The next volley of cannonfire actually helped him gauge where the ship was, how it was heeling, so he could guess where his first shot was going to be needed. The rear guns of any ship were the fewest and the weakest, not many seasoned sailors would panic from these shots.


    The wind was still blowing east, and Hazard was running.


    The next bolt of lightning revealed his target near the topgallant sail was still there, had not moved at all, ready to start reefing at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Dobbs squeezed the trigger and the musket barked and kicked his shoulder.


    The lightning lasted only a second, followed by another brief flash, but Dobbs saw the seaman twitch, fall, and go spiraling down towards the deck.


    ¡°God¡¯s blood!¡± Jenkins cried, taking off his bandanna and waving it in the wind. ¡°Touched by angels, you little fucker!¡±


    Dobbs took a deep breath. The musket went to Jenkins, who immediately went to priming and loading it, while Dobbs¡¯s eye remained trained on the nao. His blood was up, he felt the captain¡¯s words in his heart: God¡¯s judgment. There¡¯s a lad. He remained frozen in position, holding an imaginary rifle in his hands. He looked like a statue. He ignored the rain in his eye while he waited for the next bolt of lightning. When it came, he spotted another man ascending through the rigging. ¡°Got another one headed for the t¡¯gallant. And there¡¯s¡ª¡±


    His words caught in his throat.


    A thrill went through him as he realized the sea had heaved the galleon¡¯s nose up, lifting her. The lightning lasted a few seconds. As she rose, the nao revealed her helmsman, hard at work by the wheel. He followed the helmsman with his imaginary musket.


    ¡°Ready to fire, m¡¯boy!¡± Jenkins inserted the musket back into the grip of the Dobbs¡¯s statuesque form, and the boy once more sighted down its barrel.


    The galleon fired her rear guns again. It was her undoing. Between his last glimpse of her, and the new barrage of brilliant cannonfire, Dobbs was able to guess the helmsman¡¯s position close enough that when the next bolt of lightning lit the world in brilliant blue light, he need only make the faintest correction before he fired. The world went dark again. He did not see if he hit the helmsman, but he didn¡¯t have to.


    ¡°Signal the captain,¡± Dobbs said proudly. ¡°She¡¯s down a helmsman.¡±


    ____


    ¡°Looks like Dobbs bagged him one, maties,¡± said Anne, as if to herself.


    The other fellas picked their pistols out of the box, priming and loading them as they gave wary looks to one another. Anne Bonny was the antithesis of the Ladyman. She was clearly made of woman¡¯s clay, yes true, yet her manner of dress, walk, and talk was no different than the men at their worst. She held onto a rope overhead for stability, and with her arm up, her half-unbuttoned blouse exposed her right breast. Men¡¯s eyes were drawn to those breasts the first time they saw them, but sail with the men of Hazard long enough, and you will know how they feel about Anne Bonny¡¯s breasts after spending only a week with her. She wasn¡¯t a woman, or may as well not be.


    Some of the men believed she was a freak, that she had a cock between her legs, and some said she had only the balls but not the stem. But that was not why they left her alone. Men at sea were not above buggering anyone when they became lonely enough, even if it was a punishable offence. They left Bonny alone because, to them, it was best to pretend she was not there. Bonny was herself handy in battle, and knowledgeable of the sea and the needs of a ship, but somehow one gained the sense that acknowledging her was like forgetting to bite down on a gold coin before a dangerous ploy, or forgetting to bring a cat on a voyage¡ªit was unlucky. Like the ship¡¯s cat, you wanted her to do her part of the labour, but you did not want to play with her too much or else you disturbed her function.


    It helps, she thought, holding on to the rope as water rushed over her ankles, that they believe the old tale that a woman¡¯s bared breasts bring good luck on a ship. She never bared them on purpose, but if they slipped free of her shirt, and if the men averted their eyes whenever those breasts made an appearance, what could it hurt?


    Bonny walked barefoot along the planks, watching the black monolith ahead grow into the form of a Spanish warship. With each flash of lightning, she could sense more of the ship¡¯s distress, and noted her ragged sails and limp rigging and her bogged-down keel. Her arse is heavy. She¡¯s drinking seawater. No bilge pump can handle that. Least, not with her being hounded like she is, smashed in the shoals. The Ladyman knows his business.


    Anne had been at the helm when Captain Laurier made the decision to give chase. It had been done by stealth. Laurier had seen the squall building but had predicted it would become worse. The galleon could have normally survived such a storm.


    Normally.


    But there was a technique of parking a ship just beyond the horizon of another ship¡¯s view. The masts on most ships were high enough that they peeked just over the horizon, allowing someone in the crow¡¯s nest to spot a ship in the distance. Keeping the ship at bare poles¡ªthat is, all her sails reefed¡ªmade the stealthy ship almost impossible to spot. And a man with a good eye and a good long glass could spy the distant ship without being spotted himself. It required careful sailing, good lookouts, and reefing and unreefing sails at regular intervals. Hazard had done this for hours, peeking over the horizon, following the nao like a lone wolf stalking an unsuspecting elk.


    Captain Laurier had done this with countless naos before, and usually it did not pay off, but every so often the storm would move in just such a way as to would drive the mighty ship into treacherous shoals, making it difficult for her to turn around when a pair of fast-moving enemy ships made themselves visible behind her. At first, the nao fired warning shots, but as long as the crew kept their courage, and remained bold, they could stalk the nao and force its captain into the shoals and coral heads. Again, this was only possible if the nao¡¯s captain and his crew were new to these waters, and did not have accurate charts (most charts of the Caribbean were less than accurate) and did not know they were being corralled into treacherous territory.


    The ship then became battered and busted. The advantage she gained by size and superior guns was lessened. Spaniards made awful sailors, they did not have suitable training, and they suffered for mistakes such as these.


    Anne had seen this technique attempted by many, but only Laurier ever succeeded at it, and even then only occasionally.


    More cannonfire erupted, and, as before, most of the shots either sailed clearly over the bow or did nominal damage. One shot ripped through the bowsprit, though, and sent splinters into poor Godfried¡¯s face. The carpenter gripped his face while blood seeped through his fingers.


    ¡°Get him up!¡± Bonny shouted. ¡°Get something to press against his face and see if he can still stand! If so, put a pistol in his hand!¡±


    It sounded like a command. Perhaps it was. Perhaps they were obeying her when they moved to grab Godfried. It was hard to say for sure because they never showed any recognition of her authority, nor had she been granted any rank by Captain Laurier, but there were times when it seemed Anne Bonny, though rarely acknowledged by the crew, was no less obeyed than the Ladyman whenever she spoke. She strode around the deck, shouting orders here and there, and sometimes joined in the work of other men without being invited to do so. In every instance, the crewmen allowed it. No one was clear on why this was, or what Anne¡¯s actual job was, least of all Anne.


    When she claimed her own flintlock pistol and cutlass, Bonny began moving to the portside railing. She looked to three men standing beside her¡ªRupert, Tomlinson, and Jaime¡ªand said to them, ¡°Ready the ropes and hooks.¡± And they did. They likely would have done so anyway¡ªin fact, Anne was sure the quartermaster Abner Crane had already commanded them to do so¡ªbut they moved a bit livelier when she reminded them presently to do it.


    Anne Bonny was one of the leaders of the fighting teams. She did not know how this came to be, for Captain Laurier had never asked her to do it, but when Fitzsimmons, the last man to have the position, had died of a bleeding-gum disease, Anne had started telling men what to do just when the fighting was about to start. And they did it. She passed amongst them like a wraith, seen and yet unseen, never acknowledged but still obeyed, never thanked, never berated, left alone.


    Rupert, Tomlinson, and Jaime all appeared at the railing with ropes and grappling hooks. Ahead, the Spanish galleon was just off their port, most of her gunports were now closed, she had taken on enough water that even her top gun decks were threatened by the sea. She was dragging, scraping the seafloor, and it was almost too easy to catch up to her now.


    We need to be careful. She¡¯ll fight like a cornered boar now.


    The water surged between both ships, creating a new turbulent force that wanted to separate them, but Hazard just kept ploughing ahead.


    Anne saw Spanish sailors trying to climb to the nao¡¯s rigging, perhaps to let loose the rest of her sheets. But one of them suddenly twitched like he¡¯d been stung, and fell from up high and bounced off the starboard railing and plunged into the sea. She heard the report of Dobbs¡¯s rifle at the same time. The boy was good. The Ladyman knew how to pick them.


    Anne used a pocketknife to cut her palm, and drew a bloody pentagram across her left breast and muttered an incantation. A Frenchwoman in Nassau had taught her this ritual, apparently it had been popular with some of the people in the Court of Louis XIV, and they believed it brought favour from certain spirits. Anne did not know which spirits, exactly, but so far the ritual had never failed her. Even still, she had to do it in secret, lest the Ladyman catch her.


    In that instant, a sound reached her ears unlike the lap of waves or the groan of thunder or the creak of timbers. Guns. All booming.


    On the other side of the galleon, the Lively had come slicing through the waves and the brig let out her first salvo from her battery. The Lively did an excellent job of targeting the aft castle, which usually housed all of a ship¡¯s officers, the helmsman, and the rudder. Any damage done to that would benefit them, no matter how small. A minute later, the Lively let loose another salvo, and splinters shot from the galleon¡¯s arse. All three ships crested a large wave and came back down¡ªthe timing was perfect for Hazard, as the coming of the wave made it so the galleon¡¯s cannon shots were off target.


    Lively fired again, and appeared also to miss.


    This was how they did it. Anne had seen the Ladyman¡¯s wicked tactics too many times now, and she knew their ruthless efficiency. Laurier had lived up to his reputation, which was spreading around the Caribbean ports like the plague. This time he had managed to gather a confederate in Captain Vhingfrith, a privateer, and together they harrassed the nao into waters she had no business navigating. And the Ladyman had managed to time it with the coming of the storm¡ªnot a hurricane, but not merely a squall now, either. It is a beautiful thing to see. Anne clutched her bloodied breast, and aimed a curse at the nao, muttering the hellish words.


    More cannonfire was dumped on them, the nao was still fighting back, and Bonny saw only one of the shot¡¯s impact Hazard¡¯s deck. It struck a man at his waist, ripping him in half, his upper body went winnowing over the railing and his waist and legs fell and dumped bowels onto the planks. It was Clemmons, another fella they had picked up in Port Royal.


    ¡°Help me dump him, so he can join his other half!¡± she shouted, and ran to it. ¡°At least his ghost will have a chance to swim!¡± Once more, men helped her, but they did not report ¡°aye¡± nor give any other hint that they were following her orders. Together they grabbed his legs and slung everything overboard. Someone called a prayer out to the winds.


    It was, Anne thought, the most religion the Hazard had seen in ages.


    They hit a swell and rose until they crested it, and then Hazard slid easily down the other side. Anne turned to find the Ladyman at the helm. Captain Laurier¡¯s skirt made him easy to spot beside Kepler, working the wheel. She saw him shouting his final orders to Kepler, then he accepted his own cutlass and pistol from Owens and stepped down from the quarterdeck. Laurier would join in the boarding action.


    How did he do this? she wondered, not for the first time. How did he time everything so perfectly, so that a full fucking galleon is almost at our mercy?


    Anne knew the components of this tactic, she knew each step as it was supposed to happen, but how had he made all of it work in harmony? The three ships were now in shallow waters, amid a storm, conditions which favoured the sloop and the brig. A fire of some kind had started on the Spanish ship. Perhaps a lantern had spilled, or a single cannon shot had found a powder keg. Amid flames high and winds of an infant storm, the Spaniards fought to keep their ship in order. But the flames and the lightning illumined more details on the galleon¡¯s top deck; Anne saw some of the rigging sag, and the bowline looked chipped and smashed in places.


    Some of the damage was clearly caused by the storm, not by cannon shot.


    The Ladyman is whittling the Spaniards down to a fucking nub.


    She smiled, and that smile caused the men around her to give her an even wider berth. Men didn¡¯t like it when Anne Bonny smiled.


    The men hunkered down at the railing, waiting for action, some of them shivering like kittens left out in the cold. One of them vomited. Someone passed down a gold coin for each of them to bite down on, for luck.


    Hazard came alongside the nao. The Spanish ship rose like a titan¡¯s chariot over them, at least thirty feet taller. The very presence of both ships in the raging sea created only more turbulence, and they bent towards one another and then away, towards and away, towards and away. The nao fired her guns, but it was a badly-timed firing line and she was mostly heeled to port, which meant her cannons¡¯ barrels were aimed skyward. Only three or four shots ripped through Hazard¡¯s masts and rigging.


    A forepeak halyard snapped, the line went sailing past Anne and slapped another sailor in the face. He screamed as he fell and Anne reached out to grab his hand and hauled him back over the railing. When Anne looked up, she saw the highest t¡¯gallant spar get carried away by the wind. The Ladyman ordered three men below to bring out another sail from below to replace it. It took almost twenty minutes to achieve, meanwhile the nao pulled ahead of them and the Lively maintained her chase.


    Hazard heaved to starboard, then rolled slowly back to port. One of the men attaching the new spar slipped and fell and landed on the deck, unconscious, maybe dead.


    Bonny spotted Reginald, the cook, dashing to the side and spilling over a cask of rum into the ocean. An old seaman¡¯s superstition, she knew, left over from a time when sailors believed propitiating the god of the oceans in such a way was the best means to guarantee safe passage in a storm. It was Reginald¡¯s usual ritual whenever seas were not gentle. Again, he made certain to do it when Captain Laurier wasn¡¯t looking.


    The Ladyman came up behind Bonny, half running, half sliding across the deck, his lipstick¡¯d mouth forming a snarl. ¡°Ready, Okoa!¡±


    The lanky African was working as the gun captain, since Albany, the last one, had been slain during their beach raid against the colonies in the Cape Verde Islands. ¡°Cast loose your gun!¡± Okoa shouted to each cannoneer, ordering the crew to free their cannons from the tackles that lashed them fast to their ports. ¡°Level your gun! Out tompion!¡± They moved with lethal synchronicity, having rehearsed this too many times to fail now. ¡°Run out your gun! Prime!¡± Lines of powder were poured down the touch hole of each cannon. ¡°Point your gun!¡±


    Anne watched as Okoa hopped on his one leg, up behind each cannon, sighting down the barrel, yelling something in the ear of each cannoneer. The men with their handspikes and side tackles aimed according to his will. Anne helped one cannoneer slide a wedge in to correct the elevation.


    It took a minute at least to reload a cannon and fire again. The best teams could do it in under a minute. A hodgepodge pirate crew, many of whom had only come aboard at Port Royal a few months ago, would take a little more time.


    Anne watched anxiously as the galleon heeled back to them. Felt the disorienting sensation of gravity chasing her. She had been keeping an internal count. They would be ready to fire again in ten to twelve seconds, if she was any judge.


    ¡°Ready, Anne?¡± said the captain from behind, his lips close to her ears.


    She looked back at him. She smiled, even though she knew the scar on her right cheek ruined the effect. That used to bother her. It no longer did. Nothing bothered her since coming aboard the Hazard, where everyone was a heavily-scarred soul without home or harbour. ¡°Ready, Cap¡¯n.¡±


    The nao continued heeling.


    Moments like these always frightened Anne, if she was being honest, but they also came to her like a dream. In her dreams, Anne was always aware that she was dreaming, and knew that if she died, she would just wake up. Part of her believed that now. Part of her had to.


    The nao¡¯s cannons rose to meet them.


    The Ladyman ran to Hazard¡¯s portside railing, one foot on the rail. ¡°Okoa?¡±


    ¡°Ready, Captain!¡±


    ¡°Fire!¡±


    Anne felt the juddering of the ship with each successive boom and Kepler fought with the steering to keep Hazard on course. The men on cannon duty were mostly new, they were not highly coordinated with the firing order, so they had probably upset Hazard¡¯s steering. One did not want to fire all a ship¡¯s cannons at once, else you put enormous pressure on your own timbers. The power of each cannon combined could actually do considerable damage, causing planks and rafters to crack and break. You wanted to do a rolling firing line, one right after the other.


    Hazard¡¯s men did not have that discipline quite down yet, and she heeled in the water. Anne looked to the helm and saw Kepler fighting the ship. Anne had been at sea long enough to know what he needed. She turned to the Ladyman and said, ¡°May I, sir?¡±


    ¡°You may.¡± He never looked at her. His painted lips were pressed in consternation, his hawk-like eyes fastened on the galleon. His prize.


    Bonny walked drunkenly over to the main hatch and called down into it, ¡°Move some ballast, lads!¡± She saw their faces through the grating. And hour ago, Abner had woken the men of first watch, and half of them had been assigned to taking ballast from out of the bilge and rushing up through the ship to store it all forward, where the treasure was. Treasure was usually stored forward, since the stern was the most vulnerable part of the ship, but in this case it and the ballast would combine to help with the ship¡¯s trim. They needed to lower the bow.


    It took one or two minutes, but this steadied Hazard, and it allowed her to be so close to the nao that almost all its cannons would fire directly over Hazard. Anne smiled. The maneuver was expertly pulled off by the Ladyman and Kepler. The maneuver also allowed Hazard¡¯s next salvo to find her target. Her four sakers did their dirty work¡ªeach cannon shot smashed through the nao at the waterline and Anne grinned as she watched massive splinters explode from the galleon¡¯s hull. Shooting at the galleon¡¯s waterline would cause her to take on even more water, slow her down even more. On the other side of the nao, the Lively¡¯s guns blasted her aft castle again. The sea was alive with booming eruptions that mocked the storm¡¯s own thunder.


    Anne stood by the railing with her captain that she admired so, and did not duck as the Spaniards aimed down at them with their own muskets and opened fire. Shots ripped through the wood all around them and someone screamed behind her.


    ¡°Volley!¡± Anne cried.


    Hazard¡¯s riflemen fired back at almost the exact same time. Bullets tore through each line of men. Anne saw one sailor¡¯s head snap back and fragments of his skull and brain matter splashed her face. She flung over a grappling hook, which snagged some netting hanging along the nao¡¯s starboard side, and pulled hard to fasten it before the Spaniards could toss it off. The Ladyman did the same, working right beside his crew, as hard as any of them. His skirt whipped violently in the wind, and he was still snarling.


    Tomlinson shouted, ¡°Primed and loaded!¡± and all the others agreed.


    ¡°Volley!¡± she cried.


    Once again, they fired muskets at almost the same time as the Spaniards, and almost everyone¡¯s shot missed.


    The nao raised her boarding net in an attempt to prevent Hazard¡¯s men from coming over. Now was the time, while the Spaniards were reloading.


    ¡°Now!¡± Anne hauled another one of the grappling hooks herself and hurled it in a long arc. The Ladyman and several others repeated this process¡ªfire muskets, toss over a rope while the enemy reloaded, fire the cannons, sending up splinters and other debris to rattle them, then toss over more rope while the cannons were reloading, then fire muskets, and keep doing it.


    The galleon¡¯s rifleman force was divided, for they also had to deal with the Lively¡¯s crew, who would be on her port side tossing over their own grappling hooks.


    And all the while, the fire on the galleon continued to spread, but the flames were weak, thanks to the downpour. But she was clearly taking on water, which would also occupy much of her crew¡¯s efforts. Every bit was critical, for a galleon her size could have a crew of anywhere from fifty to four hundred, and the more work Hazard gave them to do, the more divided they were, the less chance they could cohere into a competent fighting force. Any damage to the rudder, for instance, or to the rope that conveyed the will of the helmsman¡¯s wheel, could take as many as sixty men to fix.


    So Hazard kept hitting them, kept giving them work to do, holes to plug, wounded men to carry off, masts to repair.


    ¡°Stand at the ready!¡± Laurier cried.


    Anne saw what was about to happen. They all did. She made sure her cutlass was solidly sheathed and her pistol was tucked nicely in her waistline. The Spanish ship, waterlogged and grappled, was now as vulnerable as she was going to get. Now the Ladyman shouted, ¡°Hoy up, men! Hoy up!¡±


    ¡°Hoy!¡± the men answered.


    ¡°Today we enter into immortality! Fear neither sea, nor man, nor God!¡± The wind and thunder tried to steal his words, but the Ladyman was having none of it. ¡°Should we perish today, we do not die, we reconvene on Fiddler¡¯s Green, then walk back from the land of the dead and finish what we started!¡±


    ¡°Hoy!¡± Up and down the portside, men started smacking their swords against one another¡¯s.


    ¡°The enemy fear us because they fear death! But we¡¯ve seen worse, and we are about to show them!¡±


    ¡°Hoy!¡±


    ¡°Ready¡­ready¡­¡±


    The two ships bobbed up and down. The galleon, normally so much taller than a sloop-of-war, had dropped well below what was safe for her and was now scraping the seafloor. She could very well run aground soon. Most of the grappling hooks had connected with her netting hanging from her sides. It was now or¡ª


    ¡°Now!¡±


    The men leapt across. Anne followed without question. One man, a fellow they had picked up in Port Royal named Omar, and who Anne had had a dalliance with, missed completely and fell into the sea. She never even looked back at him. She half leapt, half scuttled up the rope, and slammed against the nao¡¯s hull.


    The rest of them grabbed hold of rigging, the corners of the gunport shutters, the anchor, the runners, anything to give them purchase. And, as the men aboard Hazard let loose another salvo, Anne and the boarders maneuvered as the captain had planned. They all made it to the galleon¡¯s runners and climbed back from the bowsprit. The runners only protruded three inches from the hull, and one or two men lost their footing and slipped and fell into the sea. The survivors kept climbing.


    Anne had lost sight of the captain. She had lost sight of everyone except Okoa, the one-legged African who had abandoned his spot at the gunnery (for every man was needed in a boarding action) and slipped from a runner and would have fallen if Anne had not reached out and caught his arm and guided him back to a piece of limp rigging. It was too dark to see his expression, or to see anything but the light of the flames coming from over the edge of the galleon¡¯s gunwale, but she could sense his gratefulness.


    They moved along the side of the ship, the sea rushing up to them. Once, the galleon heeled so hard to starboard she and Okoa both went underwater for several seconds. She heard nothing but the roar of the sea, and imagined she heard the wails of spirits trapped below the waves. They reemerged. The cannons above their heads fired once more.


    It was now or never.


    Anne gritted her teeth and growled her hate for all things Spanish and climbed up to the nearest gunport. She climbed above it, held on to loose rigging with her callused hands, bent her legs so that her arse was facing the Hazard, and then kicked out and swung her legs through the gunport window and swam inside to the gun deck. She came through with such speed and force she knocked the Spanish gun captain over. Anne¡¯s sword was out and her pistol drawn before the rest of the gun crew knew what was happening.


    She tried firing the pistol, but, unsurprisingly, the charge was too damp, since she had just been underwater, and it misfired. She flung the pistol into the face of a Spaniard coming at her and then skewered him with her sword.


    Okoa came through the gunport awkwardly, and would have been killed had Anne not deflected the dagger coming at him. Okoa lashed out with sword and dagger, flailing, sometimes hopping, sometimes pushing off of walls to reach his next enemy.


    More of Hazard¡¯s men came in through the gunport like maggots seizing on a wound, firing pistols and thrusting blades and biting faces and gutting Spaniards like fish. ¡°With me!¡± Anne screamed, and charged forward into pitched battle. The men, as always, followed her.

 Chapter 4: Castle at Sea, Under Siege

    trim ¨C The angle of a boat as it moves through water. To adjust trim simply means to raise or lower the bow (front) of the ship.


    THE LIVELY HAD taken no damage, none at all, and Jacobson was surprised by this. As first mate to Captain Vhingfrith, his truest wish was for the mission¡¯s success, of course, as it brought them all profit and glory, and as an Englishman he knew any man was worth less than nothing if he prayed for catastrophe for spite¡¯s sake. And yet.


    The pistol was still in his hand, the acrid gunpowder smell was trapped in his nostrils, paramount even above the salty sea air. The pistol weighed heavy on him. It was a cursed object, used to murder a man who had not yet committed a crime. To be sure, Burr had been holding a knife when he died, Jacobson had seen it, but he had not advanced. It might have been a mistake. More, the captain had not even given Burr a warning. More, Burr had never once been disciplined for insubordination, nor anything else for that matter. Not ever.


    And yet Captain Vhingfrith had shot him, ended his life with less thought than he gave to a course change, and then ordered his body thrown overboard.


    Because Burr was going to kill him. And because his words were becoming seditious. He even indicated the other men were on his side.


    He could not fool himself. Even as he hung on to a spar and watched Bernhardt, the gun captain, issue new commands for reloading the cannons, Euric Jacobson could not find the fault in Vhingfrith¡¯s decision. Violent, yes, but violence was often essential in maintaining order, and making inviolable the total authority and dominion of the captaincy.


    ¡°Fire!¡± Bernhardt shouted. The sound of half a dozen cannons was deafening. The salvo ripped into the Spanish ship¡¯s rigging and Jacobson saw men plummeting from the mizzenmast down into the flames below.


    Jacobson¡¯s hands were busy with something. Without realizing it, he had gone about the business of reloading the pistol, and presented it back to Captain Vhingfrith, standing right beside him. ¡°It¡¯s ready, Captain,¡± he said.


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Jacobson.¡± The captain accepted the weapon and tucked it in his waistline.


    Everyone else was shouting, but these two were close enough to hear one another above the shattering din.


    ¡°Shall I prepare the fighting men, sir?¡±


    Vhingfrith¡¯s eyes bore into him. ¡°Can you manage it?¡±


    ¡°Faith, I will complete the victory you have laid before us.¡±


    Seawater surged between the Lively and the nao and drenched them both. The ship¡¯s planks gave an agonizing moan. The two men were competitors for the captaincy, but not yet enemies. Not yet. Vhingfrith wiped water from his face. ¡°Then be about it, Mr. Jacobson.¡±


    ¡°Right. Ready boarding action!¡± he bellowed. More cannons boomed a moment later, those coming from the pirate vessel Hazard. Lively climbed another small wave, crested it, and the Spanish nao groaned like an elephant¡¯s he¡¯d heard about in stories, when multiple spears brought them down.


    As he drew his cutlass, Jacobson tossed one more look back at Vhingfrith, who never even flinched. The cat-eyed captain looked away from Jacobson, both his gaze and mind set upon other goals. There was a moment when Jacobson thought he could do it, he could kill the captain now and no one would see. Everyone¡¯s back was turned. He could say the captain attacked him. No one would believe him, but most of them would go along with it. Because most of them hated the half-Negro as much as he did. Several times now, Vhingfrith had brought shame on them by allying their cause to men of ill repute. Men like John ¡°the Ladyman¡± Laurier. John ¡°the Doxy.¡± John ¡°the Molly.¡±


    That shame might follow them, like the stench of rot, from one port to another. And then what work could they find? What ship would take Jacobson and the other men after working a year or two on the Lively? Who among the privateers of Jamaica would not smell the Devil¡¯s Son on them?


    But I daren¡¯t kill him. Not now. Perhaps not ever. Perhaps only a vote will remove him, if any of us survive this mad plan. Though, I would be lying if I said my heart wasn¡¯t stirred by such adventure! God, what nerve Vhingfrith has! And the possibility of a nao¡¯s treasure¡ª


    He neared the starboard railing. The men had already tossed their grappling hooks over and had secured the line. The Spaniards were still firing but the time between each volley was lengthening, they were stretched too thin, struggling to reload while the ship heaved and scraped against the shoals and took on water, all while two enemy vessels flanked her and smashed her aft castle and rigging, removing her leadership and her ability to steer. Lively and Hazard were like wolves trying to bring down a buffalo, and their teeth were already sinking in.


    Now all that¡¯s left is to finish it. But can we?


    Jacobson gave the order, and, screaming, nearly forty desperate men sprung into action. Their minds were fearful but their hearts were emboldened by extra rations of rum, a tradition before a raid. Half of them leapt across to grab hold of the galleon¡¯s sagging rigging or the gunports, the other half climbed the ropes attached to the grappling hooks. Jacobson was one of the latter. His cutlass sheathed at his side and two pistols tucked firmly in his waist, he took one of the taut ropes and hung by his hands and feet. Hand over fist, he climbed upwards. Twenty men with muskets were left on the Lively to send up another volley if they saw Spanish riflemen peeking over the nao¡¯s gunwale.


    The two ships heeled away from one another. Two of the ropes between them snapped and three men fell into the sea. Each dead man was a loss, but if they won the day, then by God there would be more shares now for everyone. Jacobson smiled at the thought of it. Returning home to Jessica, perhaps with his honour restored. They could leave Port Royal and return home, to England, perhaps start a family¡­


    At the nao¡¯s portside railing, privateers clambered over. Jacobson was one of the last to surmount the rail, and before he was even over, he heard the screams of men fighting and dying. The storm was abating, the thunder grew distant, so he heard the ring of death clear. He very nearly fell off when the nao heeled to port, but then she corrected herself and everyone could hear the scraping of the coral heads beneath her. The ship was a gutted whale, taking on water and dying.


    When Jacobson stepped over the rail, his life nearly ended then and there, when the bayonet at the end of a musket slashed at his throat. He ducked it, unsheathed his sword, and parried the next blow. His own mind was sloshed with rum, and he screamed England¡¯s wrath at the Spaniards as he hacked at the neck of the first soldier and slashed another across his face. A blade punctured his long coat but bounced off his ribs. Grinning through the pain, he first punched his enemy in the face, sending him backpedaling, then kicked him squarely in the chest, but another of Lively¡¯s men rammed a dagger into the Spaniard¡¯s throat and he clutched at the wound as he fell to his knees, gargling.


    And from here Jacobson moved into the fray. Bodies churned on the top deck and pistols fired from point-blank range. The flames licked like red tongues as they climbed the mizzenmast. He stepped through the flames briefly on his way to defend one of his men against a Spanish soldier, and during his brief exchange the Spaniard slipped and fell through a hatch.


    Jacobson laughed and turned to address more enemies.


    Men screamed. Throngs of angry, determined souls roared with savagery, knowing nothing but the fact that if they did not win the day, they were dead. The deck was shamed by pools of black blood sliding into the scuppers, and men trudged across a dying ship in frenetic assaults, completely uncoordinated, all sense of discipline lost, and only barbarism and cruelty would prevail. The details of the winding frenzy were given accent by the flames and the occasional bolt of lightning, glimpses of a man skewered or a man being choked or a man with a chest wound crawling across the deck. Tableaus of men strangling other men, their religions and beliefs in Hell momentarily suspended at the thought of gold doubloons, handfuls of them, waiting in the holds below.


    And from below came more Spaniards. Officers and soldiers who had been hiding below so as not to clutter the deck from the true sailors now came spewing from hatches and holes, some pale-faced from seasickness, barely clutching their swords the right way. One or two well-dressed envoys, doubtlessly sent by some Spanish noblemen to oversee his treasure, tried joining the fray in their fine purple pants and white silk shirts, terror etched across their faces. They were slain almost instantly.


    Most of his enemies were easy to tell apart from his own crewmen. The Spaniards wore dark-blue uniforms, the men of the Lively had on brown breeches and dark shirts, and the pirates of the Hazard wore naught but basic tunics, red handkerchiefs on their heads, worn tarpaulin pants, and often were barefoot.


    Jacobson met the next enemy¡¯s blade and parried it without pause, headbutted him, and slashed across his wrist, severing the tendons that kept his grip. When the Spaniard¡¯s sword melted from his hand, Jacobson ran him through, twisted the blade to make it easier to remove, and spun to meet the next Spaniard, whose blade he blocked before he kicked the man¡¯s feet out from under him. With his free hand, he pulled his pistol and fired it into the chest of an enemy rushing him from his left flank.


    Someone hit him in the jaw, and he tasted blood.


    And then the nao heeled to starboard and everyone slid or fell or tumbled to the other side of the deck. A spar came loose and swung netting that whipped a man overboard. Jacobson dropped his now-useless pistol and grabbed hold of a piece of netting dangling overhead to keep his balance. When she straightened out again, the nao seemed to yaw. The entire ship shuddered, and it was obvious she had collided with coral again.


    The galleon¡¯s speed was slowing, practically at a standstill. They called these ships "castles-at-sea," and he laughed thinking how appropriate. The nao moved about as sluggishly as a castle would.


    A Spaniard came up at him, giving vent to a primal scream as he thrust his cutlass at Jacobson¡¯s midsection. Jacobson shuffle-stepped backwards, parried, slipped, fell, rolled backwards, and sprang back up to his feet to defend. His rear foot touched the base of the steps leading up to the quarterdeck, and here he paused. For a moment, he and the Spaniard sized one another up. Then Jacobson feinted high but went low, stabbing the enemy in the thigh. It went deep, into the femoral artery, and gouts of black blood came pouring out. The Spaniard fought for only five more breaths before he realized something was wrong. The blood loss was immense, and he passed out and fell face first onto the deck. When next the ship heeled, his body slid into a hole leading belowdecks, and vanished.


    Two lesser-skilled Spaniards advanced on him, and for a moment he fought in a coordinated attack pattern with one of Hazard¡¯s men. Then two more Spanish marines approached, and he descended on them like dragon¡¯s breath, each of their throats opened, and they staggered backward through the flames and fell in a welter of blood and fire. Both the Lively¡¯s sailors and the Hazard¡¯s pirates advanced. The troopers broke in frantic, milling thickets, bounding over crates and barrels to reach escape.


    Someone fired a shot into the pirate beside him, and the man fell gasping.


    A foot landed in his back.


    He blocked a blade out of nowhere and punctured another man¡¯s arm.


    A hatchet embedded itself in a mast just beside his head. He never saw who threw it.


    A huge swell suddenly smashed the nao¡¯s side and a shower of seawater blinded him.


    He saw someone advancing on him and stabbed the man, only to realize, belatedly, that it was one of Hazard¡¯s pirates.


    It was frenetic, the screams and flames and blood and cannonfire nearly robbing him of his senses. Jacobson once more felt as though he were in a dream, his motions and fate predetermined, his hands and cutlass guided by God and a hatred for all things Spanish.


    Two more Spaniards tested him. Jacobson had never been second to anyone in a swordfight. Each parry only opened up another line of attack, and each block let him see his enemy¡¯s mind, their plan. He shuffle-stepped forward and slit one man¡¯s throat before parrying a cutlass and jamming his blade tip through the other one¡¯s eye. Overhead, a spar that had been damaged broke, and a shower of splinters rained down on him as a piece of the mast felt onto the deck, crushing a Spaniard and one of Lively¡¯s men. A third enemy stormed directly at Jacobson, the blade hissing just past his head. Jacobson sidestepped and prepared to defend¡ª


    The side of his enemy¡¯s head exploded, and brain matter splattered against the capstan. Jacobson had only a moment to find the source of the bullet. The Ladyman stood twenty feet away, skirt drenched in blood, smiling his pretty smile, his spent pistol in his hand. Captain Laurier turned away, his skirt fluttering as he headed belowdecks with a team of eight men, but before he did, Jacobson swore he saw the Ladyman wink at him.


    The galleon slammed into something hard. The three ships spun around each other, rutting. Wood moaned and snapped as the sea heaved once more and the nao wrenched free. They wrestled each other, wood gnashing against wood in a cacophony that made it impossible to issue orders, and yet Jacobson did so. To anyone who would listen, he screamed for them to rally to him. One or two saw his gestures and got the gist, and formed a rough formation around the remaining Spaniards. The rest would surely be below with whatever surviving officers there were, locking themselves either in their cabins or, more likely, the holds.


    The galleon¡¯s rigging spun in the wind, getting entangled with the rigging hanging from what was left of the stump of the foremast. But the gun deck below was not finished, the Spaniards released their first effective salvo into the Lively, and Jacobson was near enough the portside railing that he saw pieces of her hull come away and go winnowing out into the night.


    And so the battle raged on, as it always did, with neither side knowing what exactly victory would look like if they achieved it, nor how they would know when the battle was over. But of all the chaotic situations he had been in, Jacobson had never been in a quagmire so terrible as this. He saw Maxwell, Lively¡¯s cook, run screaming past him, clutching his neck and bleeding badly. Someone¡¯s intestines were under his boot, and he kept slipping on them and cursing. Theirs was a joined madness in the maelstrom of chewed-up bodies spilling their gore, and he kept pushing forward, into the tangled mess, deflecting and slashing and even once biting a man¡¯s ear off. A bullet went through his left arm and he ignored it, he kept tearing into Spaniards, stabbing any dark-blue coat he saw, until at last he found himself staggering around the destroyed deck, alone at the bow, listening to the battle splitting into smaller, flashfire battles on other decks below.


    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding,¡± Galbraith said to him.


    Jacobson stared at the Lively¡¯s second mate, wondering what he had just said and where the fuck he had come from. He pretended to understand, then said, ¡°Get belowdecks. Secure the treasure before¡ª¡± He paused when the galleon once more heeled, and he clung to rigging. ¡°Before the bloody Ladyman gets his claws on all of it!¡±


    ____


    If there was ever a God, John Laurier reckoned, as he strode down the companionways of the Nuestra Se?ora de la Purificaci¨®n, with his cutlass dripping blood, then surely, He would not have designed human bodies to be so easy to puncture, and those punctures so devastating. It sometimes troubled him how easily men died when a blade was slipped underneath a rib or between their shoulder blades. The whole body seemed to be made out of liquid¡ªexcepting the skeleton. Simply pierce any part of it and you could either kill a man or make the rest of his life miserable.


    Laurier laughed, but the grin on his face was a mask. His whole body trembled, his scalp tingling like his hair was on fire. The excitement rushed across him in waves as turbulent as those outside. Another man fell to his blade and he strode on, eight trustworthy men following in his wake, occasionally reaching out a hand to touch a wall and stabilize their footing. The ship kept heeling, though not as heavily as before.


    The companionway was narrow and, at the moment, tilted to starboard. He stormed through the corridor at a lean, the men behind him panting and laughing in the hot, musty confines. Cabin doors were shut and bolted from the inside. That was no matter. The Spaniards in those rooms could burn or drown in there, whichever came first, all he cared for was what was in the forward hold, and who was guarding it.


    A sailor no older than seventeen leapt out and swung a carpenter¡¯s hammer at him. Laurier lopped his hand off and kicked him in the chest and stepped over the crying boy and kept walking without breaking stride. Behind him, his men clashed with three Spaniards who tore open their cabin doors and came charging out with daggers. Laurier continued forward through the galley, where the tables and dishes had all been strewn about as the galleon tossed in the waves. He had to dodge tables as the ship once more heeled to port. Dark passages lay ahead, where men screamed as more of Hazard¡¯s crew found them hiding. Laurier thought he spotted one or two of Lively¡¯s privateers dash across the deck, chasing after a Spaniard in uniform.


    His men rejoined him at the next set of stairs leading down. It was a gun deck, and here he saw Anne and Okoa working in concert against a gun crew, most of whom had either fled or gotten themselves injured by cannon shot or by a pirate¡¯s blade. Hopping on his one leg, Okoa compensated by alternating between leaning on a cannon, a wall, or another pirate. The African was a gifted fighter and could hop almost as fast as a two-legged man could jog. Anne and five others stayed close to Okoa, fighting with mad ferocity that shocked the Spaniards.


    Laurier gave them a helping hand, puncturing a man¡¯s liver and continuing to stride across the deck, leaning as the ship slewed and heeled and moaned and creaked.


    Down another ladder, his men followed. Puddles of water sloshed across their path. At the end of the next companionway, a door tore open and a sailor lashed out at him with cutlass. John parried easily, struck him with a backfist, stunning him, then deflected the man¡¯s next thrust before slashing open his throat and kicking him to one side. He was beginning to lose patience with these Spaniards.


    He rounded the next corner, and leapt back just in time to miss the volley. Six muskets fired as one, their deadly lead balls embedding in the place his head and chest had been only a second before, sending showers of splinters at him. Laurier did a quick peek around the corner and saw his enemies in a narrow passage, at the end of which was a door with a giant iron lock. They were guarding it. Six other riflemen were now advancing, kneeling with their rifles aimed at him, while the first six riflemen reloaded.


    ¡°Amigos,¡± Laurier called out. He signaled the men behind him to stand ready, then waved for Tomlinson to hand him his primed and loaded pistol. ¡°Your ship is ruined. I know you risk being hanged by Philip if you don¡¯t adhere to your duty, but Philip¡¯s not here and I am. So¡¯s this.¡±


    He stuck the pistol around the corner and fired blindly and heard a man scream.


    ¡°There, you see? I know I hit one of you, and I did not even have to try. You¡¯re all bunched together like sardines, in a narrow passage, and there¡¯s a locked door behind you¡ª¡± The corridor gave a vertiginous lurch back to port. Laurier gave a chuckle. ¡°There is nowhere for you to go, nowhere for any of us to go but down to Davy Jones¡¯s locker¡ªunless you choose life. Life for us all. I¡¯ll even give you a cut of what is in that hold behind you. And King Philip never need know. I¡¯m the Ladyman. John Laurier. Ask any man, I only want what I can carry. After that is done, the rest belongs to whomsoever wants it.¡±


    Something rumbled on the deck below, men perhaps screaming, but to the Ladyman¡¯s ears it was but a confused murmur. Then Laurier heard heavy panting and footsteps, and he and the others turned quickly to see Anne Bonny walking up a corridor across from them, her blouse open, breasts and hair drenched in blood. It looked like she was crying. As long as Laurier had ever known her, Bonny had always cried in battle.


    ¡°You know my reputation,¡± he called to the Spaniards. ¡°You know I am a man of my word. You may go. You will not be prisoners longer than it takes for us to set you down someplace, or we may even leave you here, adrift. You may go. You have my word. You may go,¡± he repeated once more.


    There was a long pause, during which the only sound was the water rushing up from below and the screams of dying men.


    ¡°But I need an answer. Now. If yes, toss your muskets through the door.¡±


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    There was no response.


    Laurier nodded to his crewmen. They nodded back. He looked over at Bonny. She nodded back. He was about to give the signal to charge when the first couple of muskets were thrown through the doorway, and clattered to the floor beside him. A moment later, the rest of the muskets came flying through.


    ¡°Good lads.¡± Laurier swept inside fast and commanded his men to pick up the muskets, and told Bonny to select three men to escort the Spaniards up to the main deck. ¡°But before any of you go¡ªthe key, please.¡±


    One of the Spaniards stepped forward and removed a necklace, at the end of which was a large key. When the Spaniards were gone, Laurier looked at the iron lock. It had a wax seal on it, in the shape of King Philip of Spain. The seal kept sailors honest¡ªif it was ever broken, it would mean the crew had tampered with it. He cracked it with the butt of his cutlass and used the key to open the door, then grabbed a lantern hanging from a rafter above him and stepped inside.


    John stared into a hold filled with locked chests. He had seen their like before. They would be filled with gold doubloons and gems. The chests were uncountable, they were stacked and jammed together, up to the rafters, and the depth of the room was impossible to determine. It was perhaps the largest haul he¡¯d ever seen and his men laughed when they saw it and patted the Ladyman on his shoulders.


    Sheathing his blade, he said, ¡°It takes two men to carry one. So let¡¯s get the word out. Get men down here before this ship¡ª¡±


    ¡°We can help,¡± a voice said. ¡°We would be glad to.¡±


    John turned and saw Lively¡¯s bald-headed first mate entering with a dozen of his own crew. ¡°Jacobson. I see you made it.¡±


    ¡°Captain Laurier.¡±


    The ship lurched. Laurier noticed Jacobson¡¯s right arm was bleeding. The man had taken a shot. But even injured, Jacobson was formidable. He had rippling muscles beneath that black coat, and two decades of training and experience with a blade. Laurier was more than confident with a blade in his hand, but perhaps no duelist in the Caribbean was more feared than Euric Jacobson.


    Will he try to kill me now? Will I try to kill him? Or will he let the bounty go another day? He¡¯s been shot, so he¡¯ll be slightly off. If he comes for me, he knows it will displease Vhingfrith. And what of it? Is today the day he finally decides to topple Vhingfrith?


    It seemed everyone was waiting to see the answer to these questions. But the Ladyman had not survived this long, outcast that he was, by merely letting others decide his destiny for him. He often wrestled the reins away from Fate herself and steered other people towards his destination. It had been this way for as long as he could recall. ¡°How happy that you¡¯ve all made it,¡± he said to Jacobson and his men. ¡°As you can see, there is much to take. Without you lot, we wouldn¡¯t have time to gather all this treasure up.¡±


    John gave a smile. The bomb seemed to be defused. Some of the men exchanged glances. John stood aside and let them see the treasure within the room. And once their eyes were on it, none of Lively¡¯s crew¡ªnot even Jacobson¡ªcould miss its enchantment. Treasure was everything, and prizes like this were a rarefied thing! Their eyes glittered. Weapons were sheathed and men got to work, privateers and pirates watching one another closely. They were all enemies of Spain, but only one crew was sanctioned for this sort of operation¡ªLively had a letter of marque issued by the King of England, Hazard did not. Jacobson gave Laurier one last wary look, then grabbed a chest all by himself and started moving back up the decks.


    The operation commenced forthwith, and there was no stopping once it started. Someone had gained control of the helm and someone else had dropped the Nuestra Se?ora de la Purificaci¨®n¡¯s anchor. They worked fast, and prioritized those areas they had easiest access to. No need to pound on the cabin doors of sailors or officers that did not want to come out. The storm, though lessened, was still going on, and the fires had done considerable damage. Laurier knew the score. They needed to be free of this directionless behemoth, and soon¡ªthe truce between pirates and privateers would not last long.


    On the main deck, Laurier saw Hazard¡¯s and Lively¡¯s sailing crews had both wisely chosen to pull back from the galleon. Longboats were being sent across shallow waters and chests were loaded onto it. Only one slipped free in the chaotic waves, and John winced as he watched the treasure sink beneath the black waters. No matter, there is so much more.


    Prisoners were taken to the Nuestra¡¯s main deck and made to kneel with their hands in the air. The captain was found shot and barely alive, and it was mentioned that they ought to take him aboard Lively, to be given to the Governor of Jamaica, perhaps to be used as ransom. But Jacobson shot down that idea, he did not want any more complications from this raid.


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®complications¡¯?¡± Laurier asked, standing close to Jacobson on the deck.


    Jacobson lifted a rag off a dead sailor¡¯s head to wrap his bloody arm, and looked at Laurier grimly. ¡°Too many prisoners may rally while in chains. Mutiny. Take over the ship. Better to let them go and tell the tale.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we ought to ask your captain?¡±


    ¡°You mean your good friend Vhingfrith?¡±


    There was the hint of a dark suggestion. Laurier let it pass. The Nuestra rocked again, then settled on a sandbar. He steadied himself on the shifting deck. ¡°Why hasn¡¯t he come aboard?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go ask him yourself?¡± Jacobson sat on the railing and swung his legs over the side, descending the rope down to the longboat waiting for him.


    Laurier watched him go, then turned to the Lively¡¯s second mate, Mr. Galbraith, and coordinated with him for the last bit of treasure.


    Soon, all matters were settled. The Nuestra was both heavy with water and run aground on a large sandbar. All other surviving officers were chained to the common sailors and left belowdecks on the nao, while the sloop and the brig sailed away.


    Hazard moved away from the galleon first, followed soon after by Lively. Laurier and Vhingfrith never communicated this. Indeed, they never even met or saw one another during the whole ordeal. Their two ships sailed clear of the shoals, out into deeper waters to wait out the rest of the storm, which only took about two hours. Then, once again without communicating any of this, they sailed together for Bocas del Drag¨®n, a series of straits separating the Gulf of Paria from the Caribbean Sea, and a safe stretch of ocean to escape any other Spanish ships that might happen along these latitudes.


    After six turns of the glass, they were running at broad reach, on a clean southeasterly course. Dead men on each ship were dealt with and dropped into the sea. Aboard the Lively, they were sent away with prayers and honours. Aboard the Hazard, not so much, the men only sang a song of fellowship. Injured men on each ship were taken belowdecks and worked on.


    The skies began to clear, the clouds slowly spreading as thin as cotton and the stars shone fully and proudly over ink-black seas. From the portside railing of the Hazard, the Ladyman stood looking over at the Lively, clutching the locket hanging from his neck. He waited for the signal. He had never been more frightened in all his life. If the signal came, it meant all was forgiven, but if it did not come, he would know he had gone too far, and broken a most sacred trust with Vhingfrith.


    The water was oily calm, which was common after a harsh storm.


    At last, a light shone from Lively¡¯s stern, right about where the captain¡¯s cabin ought to be.


    John breathed a sigh of relief, and placed both hands on the railing and fought back the tears. His shoulders shook. He recomposed himself when he heard a bell ring five times. That would be Jaime, the Scotsman he had put on the dogwatch, letting everyone know the time. John stood straighter and squared his shoulders and looked at that single lanternlight glowing from Lively¡¯s stern a hundred yards out. It was a beacon of continued friendship. Of hope.


    John stood there a while longer, until he heard LaCroix and the others ripping up planks from the deck behind him. They were going to use the lumber to repair Hazard. Right then, John had Kepler setting course for Jocomo Island, a small little cove he knew of with a sandy bottom, perfect for careening a ship and getting some repairs done to the hull.


    It¡¯s done, Benjamin, he thought, walking aft. Please forgive me, but you will know why it had to be done.


    Then he heard Abner limping up behind him. ¡°The haul?¡± John said.


    The quartermaster had a ream of parchments in his hand. ¡°It¡¯s very good, Captain. Very good. Nine casks of rum, almost as many in wine. The men wanted to open one in celebration, and I took the liberty of allowing them one ration apiece. Sixteen pipes of brandy, a dozen barrels of spice, fifteen barrels of sugar, twelve barrels of salt, two barrels each of tobacco and cotton, some spare sails, plus various repair accoutrements.


    ¡°As for coin¡ªI cannot count it all now, but I¡¯d estimate eight thousand Spanish doubloons. We¡¯re full to bursting, Cap¡¯n. Hazard can¡¯t take any more or else the slightest squall will sink us. If a single shilling fell from the sky, we would sink. We¡¯re bloated beyond¡ª¡±


    ¡°I believe I understand, Abner.¡±


    ¡°We took some spare cannon shot but I ordered most of it left behind when Kepler told me how she was steering¡ªHazard is drawing low in the water. The raids on Ciro and Dominica didn¡¯t just paint us as targets, they made us heavy. And now we¡¯re just too damned bloated. We must needs find harbour soon to sell some of this off.¡±


    John sighed. ¡°Very good. Yes, very good. But that seems an awful lot. Did the Lively get their full share?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the strange part, sir.¡±


    John looked back at him. ¡°Strange?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. Some o¡¯ the lads have said the Lively¡¯s crew did not spend much time divvying up what was theirs. Instead, they tore into the Nuestra¡¯s captain¡¯s cabin, pulling out books and maps, and they ransacked the quartermaster¡¯s quarters, taking dozens of account-books away.¡± Abner shrugged. ¡°They did take some of the loot. Just¡­not as much as I would¡¯ve thought.¡±


    John scratched irritably at his chin. ¡°Account-books, you say?¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir. Among other books.¡±


    Account-books? What the bloody hell is Ben thinking? Laurier said nothing.


    ¡°It was well executed, Captain. Your whole plan, from start to finish. It was impeccably done.¡±


    Laurier still said nothing for a while. Then, ¡°Thank you, Abner.¡±


    ¡°Sir, some of the men are saying they saw some old patchwork repairs on the nao. Looks like she was badly hurt before we ever went after her.¡±


    ¡°Yes. She was a wounded dove before we ever clapped eyes on her.¡±


    ¡°You knew this?¡±


    ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    Laurier did not answer.


    ¡°Your spies in Panama?¡±


    Laurier still did not answer. ¡°What¡¯s our losses?¡±


    ¡°Minor damage to hull. LaCroix¡¯s working on it now, along with Kendrick, Dobbs, a few others. Two yardarms cracked but haven¡¯t yet snapped,¡± Abner said, looking up. ¡°LaCroix says it can be replaced within the hour, and with better components, since we got spares from the Nuestra.


    ¡°As far as men: we lost Colm, Guthrie, Nattleby, Portman, Drake, Hitchens, both of the Taylor boys, Mortimer, Zachary, and I think Baxter. I can¡¯t find him anywhere and no one¡¯s seen him. Cedar says Stephens isn¡¯t likely to make it. But the men are all very happy. They wanted to sing more songs but they know how you hate that.¡±


    John snorted out a laugh. ¡°Give them all an extra ration of rum, will you? And tell them they can sing all they want. For an hour, no more. We still need to press for Jocomo.¡±


    ¡°Aye, skipper.¡± But he delayed.


    ¡°Something else?¡±


    Abner sighed. ¡°It is the source of vigourous debate, Captain.¡±


    ¡°What is?¡±


    ¡°How did you know?¡±


    Laurier glanced back at him, then looked at the lanternlight on Lively¡¯s stern. ¡°In battle, foul weather is preferable for the weaker force, and something that the stronger force would do well to avoid. Even though the storm hammers both ships, the storm hampers and damages larger ships disproportionately.¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°The shoals were finely placed. I¡¯ve done this technique before, though not with the same crew. You know my methods by now.¡± He shrugged. ¡°And the nao appeared to be headed more or less in the right direction¡ªand the wind pushing hard east didn¡¯t hurt.¡±


    ¡°And, the storm?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that time of year. Not quite time for hurricanes, but mounting squalls¡ªsqualls that start off small then surge, then die quickly¡ªthose are due this time of year. It¡¯s in most of the almanacs. I ran some figures, checked it against the Peregrin Almanac collection we took from Antigua last spring. Remember that researcher in San Juan? He told me it would be in Sir Lawrence¡¯s collection.¡± Laurier shrugged. ¡°And then it¡¯s just experience. I¡¯ve been out here a long time, Abner. I¡¯ve sailed the Caribbean a long, long time.¡±


    ¡°I see. And what if it had not been just so?¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°I know you¡¯ve done this before, but that¡¯s about my point, Captain.¡± Abner hesitated. ¡°I¡¯m only asking, what if the conditions were slightly off? What if the winds were blowing north instead of east, or the ship had been headed south instead? What if her captain had gone in irons, come to a dead stop when the water was deeper, and waited to pound us, all before Lively showed up? What if whatever informants told you about the Nuestra¡¯s path were wrong?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think she would. In fact, I was almost certain she wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°But if she had?¡± Abner pressed.


    ¡°If she had, Abner, then the plan would¡¯ve been completely different.¡± He turned to his quartermaster. ¡°You¡¯ve seen me do things like this before. Why does it bother you now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen you do things, aye. But never quite like this, Cap¡¯n. We punched above our weight tonight. More than ever before.¡±


    Laurier looked out at the lanternlight a hundred yards out. ¡°I spend all my time planning. I¡¯ve little else to do these days.¡±


    The clouds had mostly gone, and the gibbous moon shone down on the deck, and the cross hanging from Abner¡¯s neck glimmered in the silvery moonlight. John looked at the amulet with revulsion. The old man caught himself fingering it absentmindedly, and tucked it out of sight. ¡°Some of the men, sir¡­they¡¯re all happy, mind you, but some of them¡­they wonder about your methods. Your fondness for storms. How you know them so well. Some of the stories they tell¡­are not flattering.¡±


    ¡°They think I¡¯m in league with devils. That my mother was a siren.¡±


    Abner shrugged. ¡°They say many things.¡±


    ¡°And why do you think I dump most of them at port every few months and pick up a new crew?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re running out of men who haven¡¯t heard your reputation, sir. It¡¯s one thing you and the Devil¡¯s Son have in common; a possible drought in future crewmen. As your quartermaster, it is my duty to inform you of these things.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for your concern, Abner,¡± the Ladyman said, and spun back to the railing, his bloody skirt swirling around his waist. ¡°You and Kepler handled the ship well while I was gone. I can always count on you.¡±


    ¡°Kepler¡¯s one of them that thinks you might be part siren, sir. Begging your pardon for putting a damper on your celebrations, but you ought to know.¡± Abner gave a curt nod of his head and limped away.


    Laurier watched him go. ¡°Tell Dobbs I said nice shooting.¡±


    Abner tossed up an acknowledging hand before he went belowdecks.


    Are you a Judas, Abner? Or is Kepler? Or all the men? Is that what you¡¯re telling me? Or are you accusing me of being some Judas? Is that why you want so badly to know my methods? Do the winds of your faith steer your heart now more than your trust in me? What are you trying to tell me? And what are you telling the others about me? Or, perhaps more to the point, do you fail to douse those rumours about me when they are lit? Do you let them pervade?


    For a long while, all John did was stare at the Lively¡¯s lanternlight at stern. He fingered his locket. Then he looked around and saw Jaime turning the glass again. That bothered him for some reason. He did not know why, but something suddenly felt wrong. In fact, it felt so wrong that a small thrill of panic went up through his guts and arrested his heart. He looked out at sea, suddenly sure he had missed something, some underlying threat, hidden behind a veil of dark water. It was only a moment, and then his nerves settled. What at a funny little thing to happen. Laurier looked at his hands. They were trembling. Funny thing.


    An unseasonably cold wind rippled over the boat. He looked up to see by moonlight two men already trimming the sails to account for it, without having to be told. That was always a sign of a good crew.


    Still, that cold wind¡­


    His hands steadied themselves.


    Laurier¡¯s eyes went back to the hourglass, to the sand running through it. He looked out at the sea mistrustfully, suddenly feeling as if he had overlooked some clue. The storm was in retreat, the clouds thinning even more. The stars shone down hard, looking like thousands of flecks of diamond scattered across a black tablecloth. The night sky always shone harder after a storm. But that was not the issue. Some other wind blew through his soul, making him feel suddenly as small as when he fled England, as weak and as frail as when his father found out what he was and, in disgust, cast him out.


    Perhaps that is all it was. Just a reflection of a night long ago, when his future had never been darker and his prospects never more in doubt. Ink-black waters had awaited him back then, too.


    Laurier took one last look at the sand tumbling through the hourglass. Nearby, Owens was gazing up at the sky, gathering information from the stars for their next course. Laurier¡¯s eyes suddenly felt heavy. His whole body felt fatigued beyond measure, and all at once he was desirous of nothing more than to vanish into his cabin and sleep till midday.


    Okoa hopped past him on his single crutch, and said, ¡°You¡¯re bleeding, Captain.¡±


    When Laurier looked down, he saw a cut on his sleeve he had not noticed. It was not deep, but it would still need stitching. ¡°Where are the slaves?¡± he asked. Before abandoning the Spanish galleon, some of Laurier¡¯s people had discovered the hold filled with Negroes chained in the darkness. Some of the slaves had been taken aboard the Lively, and some had gone to the Hazard. Slaves found inside Spanish ships were not uncommon, though these had been treated uncommonly well. They looked well fed and unabused.


    ¡°They in the bilge, Captain,¡± Okoa said.


    ¡°In the bilge?¡±


    ¡°No place for them. Too much treasure now.¡±


    Laurier nodded. ¡°It¡¯s time for a palaver. Take me to them.¡±


    In the dark, dank bilge, standing in cold, shin-deep waters, the six black men stood in irons. Okoa tried speaking their tongue, though he warned the captain that there were many different tongues and dialects among the African tribes, and that he had been gone a long time from his home, and it could be difficult for him to translate perfectly what was being said.


    Laurier asked for a leader of the group, someone who understood Okoa¡¯s dialect best. Okoa translated, and a tall man stepped forward, his face pocked with old scars, his sweating flesh the colour of polished ebony. Laurier stood beside Okoa and asked him only to translate a speech he¡¯d given to a handful of freed men before:


    ¡°There is nowhere on this earth where freedom exists for you, not even back home where your people are from, not anymore. Because that is where England found you in the first place, before the Spanish took you from them. You do not understand England. It is like the sky, it blankets everything, encompasses everything.


    ¡°Africa was your home. Not anymore. Return there, and they will find you again. Run, and they will hunt you. I know, because I am also like you. There is no empire that will defend you, there is no navy that will protect you. You can try to run for a while, and perhaps taste freedom for a day, a month, a year, but eventually you will end up back in those chains and working in sugar fields until the clothes on your back rot and fall off. You will see your women raped and be raped yourselves for sport. You are alone in the Universe. Do you comprehend the Universe?¡±


    The scarred man shook his head.


    ¡°The Universe is everything. It is the whole world, it is the moon, it is the sun and stars and even the blackness between the stars. The Universe is everything. So, when I say you have no friends in it, I want you to understand my full meaning. You are alone in the Universe.¡±


    The scarred man stared back rigidly. His eyes may have flickered in rage.


    ¡°There is no land you can run to where freedom has any meaning for people like you. No land, brother. But here, on this ship, and only on this ship, you may be free to do as you please¡ªwithin reason, of course. There is food, water, and safety in numbers. There will be no chains on you, unless you hurt one of your own crew. There is hard work to be done, but to me, you have the look of men who aren¡¯t strangers to work. As to freedom, you have only two choices: you have the freedom to stay, or the freedom to leave. In all the Universe, only on this ship, do you have an ounce of freedom.


    ¡°If you stay, you will work. Everyone works, including me. But the choice is yours. I will not coerce you one way or the other, nor will I try and tell each of your men which is best for them. Each of them must decide on their own. That is all the freedom I or anyone can offer you. Go or stay. Simple as that.¡±


    The slave wiped a rivulet of sweat off his dark brow, then whispered something to the others. Then he looked over to Okoa and spoke a few sentences in his native tongue.


    ¡°What did he say?¡±


    Okoa rubbed his hands together fretfully. ¡°He say he understands most of what Captain say. He say he had dream, where one day he saw great-grandfather rise from his grave, and say to him, ¡®One day you will wake, and open your eyes, and you will see that there are no more chains in the world.¡¯ On that day, his great-grandfather promised, all his people will be free.¡±


    John chewed on that. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t trust dreams, or gods, or ghosts of ancestors. Let¡¯s hope your prophecy is real. But, until that dream comes true, brother, you still have only one choice. Go, or stay. If you want to go, I can set you down on the next island we come across. Go, or stay. Which will it be? You must decide now.¡±


    The scarred man said something else.


    Okoa translated, ¡°He want to know why Captain dress like this?¡±


    Laurier looked down at his skirt and feminine-style cavalier boots. ¡°Does it bother you?¡±


    Okoa translated, and the scarred man mumbled something. ¡°He say he never see white man dressed so.¡±


    ¡°I ask again, does it bother you? Let me rephrase. Does it matter to you how the agent of mercy happens to dress?¡±


    The scarred man pondered something, then shook his head.


    Okoa shrugged. ¡°Suppose not, Captain.¡±


    ¡°You still haven¡¯t answered: stay or go?¡±


    The scarred man looked down at the chains puddled around his feet. Then he looked the Ladyman in the eye and said, ¡°Stay.¡±


    ¡°A wise choice. My name is John Laurier. What is yours?¡± He extended his hand.


    The scarred man took it. ¡°George.¡±


    ¡°Not the name the English gave you, nor what the Spaniards called you. Your true name.¡±


    The scarred man hesitated, then answered, ¡°Akil.¡±


    ¡°Akil. An auspicious name. I will take it as a sign from whatever God is left that gives a shit about men like us that we are meant to sail together. Okoa, take Akil and these men to Reginald, tell him to feed them and give them plenty of water, then tell Cedar to check them over for lice or injuries and all the rest of it. When all that¡¯s done, find them space for lodging. If they¡¯ve any signs of King¡¯s evil or other fever, put them in the bilge with my apologies.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Welcome aboard the Hazard, Akil. May she serve you as well as you serve her.¡±


    Akil gave only a fractional nod.


    As Okoa undid the rest of their chains, Laurier watched Akil closely. The African was glacially calm, appearing to be a statue chiseled out of obsidian rock, rough edges left intact. John turned to leave up the stairs. He felt bedraggled, and wanted nothing else but to sleep. But then, he had to see Cedar about the cut on his arm. Though not large, it was still bleeding.


    A single candle lit his way to his cabin. He hollered for someone to send for Oswald Cedar, Hazard¡¯s only surgeon. He waited there in his cabin, listening to the ship moan and creak. There came the lilt of music, men were rejoicing, congratulating each other on a fine job. Laurier listened to that music while waiting on Cedar. Where is he? He sat on the edge of his bunk, his mind going to Benjamin Vhingfrith.


    He closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths. The lively music from the galley started to soothe him, and he gently dozed off while sitting up.


    Moments later, he was jolted awake. He heard a clamour, and was slightly alarmed to hear someone pounding on his door. He didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been out. Someone kept pounding at the door. When he opened it, he found Jaime, who was panting like Lucifer had just chased him across the ship. ¡°Captain, good God, sir¡­we¡¯ve got a problem!¡±


    ¡°Can it not wait? If so, can you not at least impose yourself on Kepler or¡ª¡±


    ¡°It canna wait, sir¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m awfully tired, Jaime, and I would like to get some sleep soon. Is it serious?¡±


    ¡°Fairly serious, sir.¡± It was then he suddenly noticed the Scotsman¡¯s face was ashen, and his eyes were unblinking and appeared fearful in the flickering candlelight. ¡°The sun, sir! The sun¡¯s not comin¡¯ up!¡±

 Chapter 5: First Anomaly

    careen ¨C The practice of using the receding tide to ground one¡¯s own ship, in order to expose a side of the ship¡¯s hull for maintenance and repairs below the waterline. At high tide, the ship is refloated.


    VHINGFRITH LOOKED AT the timepiece in his hand, and thought, That isn¡¯t right. The device showed forty minutes past five o¡¯clock in the morning. It was a curious dilemma, but understandable. They had all gone without much sleep, and so he may have forgotten to wind the thing properly. He looked out his cabin¡¯s single window and saw naught but dark sea behind him, the oily calm disturbed only by the white foam in their wake. He looked back at the timepiece. The small portrait of his father, painted a year before his death, and which had been fastened on the inside face of the timepiece, seemed over the years to have taken on a disapproving air. The small painting had always astounded Benjamin. The artist had somehow captured his father¡¯s exact aspect, a most severe countenance, a face that was, by turns, quizzical, reproving, mischievous, mistrusting, and daring. Benjamin could almost hear the old man now, chastising him for forgetting to wind his timepiece. If you do not know your time, you may as well not know the tide, he had been fond of saying.


    When at sea, keeping up with the time was as paramount as keeping up with the weather and the stars. One needed to measure his speed against the time to calculate how far he had gone. But even Isaac Newton had said that while at sea timepieces were not very reliable. ¡°The variation of wet and dry, hot and cold, and difference of gravity in different latitudes, will play hell with the devices,¡± he wrote. ¡°To combat these problems, such a device hath not been made.¡±


    And yet it ought not be that far off, and Vhingfrith was certain he had wound the timepiece, not more than an hour before setting out from the cove where he began their pursuit of the Nuestra.


    The Spanish galleon was only hours behind them, and yet Vhingfrith feared its ghost. He was haunted by the memory of Lawrence Burr¡¯s outburst, and the look the men had given when Vhingfrith shot him. I was too harsh. He had the knife in his hand, surely, but perhaps a better captain would have given him no cause to consider carrying it, or talked to him more respectfully, giving him an alternative to violence. Presently, he paced his cabin. He had shut and barred the door hours ago. If Jacobson or someone else sought to remove him forcefully, right now would be the time, while he was tired and the rest of the men were elated about their new prizes and filled with rum. And feeling invincible.


    And one or two of them angry about Burr¡¯s execution.


    And upset about the dangerous gambit their captain had forced them into with the Ladyman.


    Now was the time if any.


    It was normal to give extra rations of rum after a successful battle, but Vhingfrith had almost withheld it out of fear of the men¡¯s exultations going to extremes, giving cause to rethink their loyalties, and granting their hearts courage to act on it. But in the end, he decided to let them have the rum, because withholding it might only make them more wroth with him.


    It was one of a dozen difficult decisions he¡¯d had to make post-battle.


    So maybe I forgot to wind the device, he thought, tossing the timepiece on his bed and forgetting about it for the moment. I¡¯ve had enough on my mind. Indeed, he had more pressing matters now. By sunrise, he might not be alive.


    Vhingfrith paced his cabin, still fully clothed and with his sword belt buckled tightly around his waist, staring at the door. He had primed and loaded a brace of pistols, which sat on his desk. The pistols were weighing down the charts of the Bocas del Drag¨®n, which he had been going over intermittently to take his mind off the disaster he had so narrowly avoided.


    And all for his sake. His fingers lightly touched the locket around his neck. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The cabin smelled of oak and old books and the sea. It was cool¡ªunseasonably cool, in fact¡ªand that coolness put a chill in him like the Devil¡¯s fingers.


    Was it love that made him obey John¡¯s wishes, a sense of loyalty, of honouring the friendship between John Laurier and Benjamin¡¯s dead father? It could be. It very well could be. Or it could be the thing hiding in the corner, in a patch of his mind he dared not look upon again. In that corner, he knew, were tousled sheets, and two beings lying naked and entangled like lovers. No, he daren¡¯t look there, best to keep it in that dark corner of his mind.


    The room was lit by two lanterns. The single window was open, a beguiling breeze turned pages on a book laid open on his desk, like a ghost hand thumbing through brittle paper. The book was a rutter, an account of the seas, written by various captain-pilots who had been through this region before. In its pages were magnetic compass courses, accounts of the colours of deadly waters, accounts of headlands and capes, ports and channels, tides noted throughout the seasons, notes on rough shoals, and reports of known havens for both good Englishmen and pirates. Benjamin had pored over them incessantly these last few weeks, looking for the direction two Spanish merchant ships might have taken: the Santo Domingo de Guzman and the Le¨®n Coronado. The two ships plagued his sleep. He had a letter of marque to take them both, and both had evaded him for half a year.


    For him, Nuestra¡¯s greatest prize had not been the silks and spices and coffee they took from her hold, nor the slaves, nor the wine. No, the nao¡¯s truest prize was taken by Jacobson, at Benjamin¡¯s orders, from the Spanish captain¡¯s quarters: muster-books, slop-books, complete-books, sick-books, reports on trade done at sea and on other islands, accounts of hard-tack traded for other supplies, dozens of other quittances, and, prize of all prizes, the Nuestra¡¯s rutter and log. Like a madman, he turned the pages and read every word, deciphering every set of initials in the margins. It was not enough to be able to read Spanish, which Benjamin could do very well, but one had also to be familiar with the strange way the Spaniards did their notations, with a series of dots, dashes, loops, and curls, which was a language only their sailors used. Benjamin¡¯s father had taught him the Spanish notation style. He was now searching for any mention of¡ª


    Benjamin heard shouting. Sounded like it came from the galley. It could have been an argument, but just as likely it was raucous laughter and roughhousing. Someone started playing a flute.


    He looked back down at the charts, comparing them with the entries and timelines in the Nuestra¡¯s captain¡¯s log. To remove his thoughts from things he could not control and refocus them on something he could, he lifted the dividers and the parallel rule and applied them to the map. He began tracking the nautical miles they had traveled thus far, using the last of the cays they had passed as reference.


    If the Coronado traveled west upon her last sighting, and assuming she remained mobile¡ªfor it is unlike the Spaniards to stay away from the open waters this time of year¡ªand following the trade winds, then she ought to be circling somewhere¡­around here. With his finger, he drew an imaginary circle around the waters southwest of St. Lucia. If it was true, and the Le¨®n Coronado was there, then her captain was getting bolder. The nao was encroaching on English waters that had been thoroughly patrolled by King George¡¯s¡ª


    More shouting. This time he was sure it was laughter. As always, it did not include him. It was Vhingfrith¡¯s ship, but it was never his crew, not truly. At the best of times privateer captains had a rotating roster of seamen willing to join them, but the number of souls willing to serve under a Negro captain, or even a half-one, was infinitesimal. It will always be this way, my boy. His father was somewhere in this cabin with him, still warning him. And one day, one of them will come for you.


    Benjamin knew this. That was what the brace of pistols was for, primed and ready.


    His eyes flickered over to the lanterns.


    One lantern was more than enough light to see by, but the second lantern served another purpose. He knew the Hazard¡¯s captain would be looking for it, and he had very nearly denied John Laurier the satisfaction. God help me, I¡¯ve rarely denied him much else. He and the Hazard¡¯s captain had not met during the entire action against the Nuestra, and that was by design. For if he saw John Laurier again, Benjamin Vhingfrith might have occasion to look to that corner of his mind again. He may feel the urge, with which he could not be entrusted.


    More laughter. And now singing. A lively fiddle cued up, and there was clapping and the sound of dancing.


    Bloody fools. It grated on him. Despite his usual ability to accept his spot in the Universe without grief, Benjamin was only too acutely aware of the source of his present melancholy. The revelers had, without saying it, made their position clear with their jocularities, and he could not but acknowledge that none of it was for him. The men were now far richer than they had been yesterday, and it had been his operation and his execution, yet his name would not be on any of their tongues, he would never be mentioned in any of the celebrations, and no credit would ever come to him.


    Indeed, he would have to tread carefully now if he wanted to live long enough to reach port.


    Vhingfrith had lived his entire life in the Caribbean, while most of his crew had been soldiers once, or seamen that served England during the War of the Spanish Succession. They had known glory on a scale he never could, championing the cause of their nation, held close (however shortly) to England¡¯s bosom. Some of them had even been celebrated in parades. Many of them had known each other long before coming aboard Lively or even before coming to the Caribbean, and brought with them their pride at vanquishing Spain¡¯s great armada and receiving the King¡¯s favour in written form. But then the winds changed, England had had little need for them afterward, and now they were brought low, cast into a winter¡¯s gale without direction and well acquainted with the idea of mutinying against their leaders. Divested of previous honours, their scarred souls now worked by command of a man that had never once bled for England, and was only gifted a sizable brig by Hell¡¯s grace, to hear them tell it.


    And he had heard them tell it, at night, when they thought he was asleep and couldn¡¯t hear. But these planks had holes, gaps, and sound carried just fine most nights. Benjamin had heard exactly what most of them thought about him.


    You will have to find other reasons to live, m¡¯boy, and other reasons to sail besides fellowship and love. For you shall have neither. You will do well just to keep yourself from being sold into chains. But I see you wish to sail.


    So be it.


    But if ever you see that rebellious glint in their eyes, worry not for this ship, abandon it, make for Massachusetts Bay Colony and find the rest of your family there. I¡¯ve already sent them a letter to receive you. And if they will not take you out of shame, shape yourself a noose¡ªI taught you well how to tie knots¡ªand step through the doorway to Death and come find me. For it is better than bondage. Your mother and I will be waiting for you there. I have great affection for you, and will receive you in a world that makes more sense than this one.


    A bottle of Haut-Brion was in the drawer of his desk. The wine was of French origin, taken from a Spanish merchantman a year ago near Hispaniola, but never opened. Benjamin poured himself a glass, and then another, and after his third one he sat down and stared at the barred door, waiting for Jacobson. Or perhaps Galbraith, if he had found the courage first. He waited for someone on his crew to come and kill him.


    No, it won¡¯t be Galbraith. Not alone, at any rate. If anyone made a move against him tonight, Euric Jacobson would be leading them, of that he was certain.


    With the window open behind him, he heard the soughing of the water in their wake. The same cool breeze as before paid him visit again, caressing his cheeks. He looked out the window, and shut his right eye. The left eye took some time to focus in the dark, but once it did, the details of the sea and clouds almost glowed. Vhingfrith often wished he had an eye that allowed him to see into men¡¯s souls the way his left eye could penetrate the dark. Then he might know the secret to Jacobson. To Galbraith. To John Laurier¡­


    There came the sounding of six bells. Six o¡¯clock. When it became obvious neither Jacobson nor Lawrence Burr¡¯s brothers nor anyone else was going to make a move against him, Vhingfrith corked the bottle and put it away. Something naggled at him, though. He did not know what it was. Maybe it was the two Spanish ships that had so far eluded him.


    Benjamin turned back to the charts. He thumbed through the Nuestra¡¯s captain¡¯s logs, searching for sign of the Le¨®n Coronado and the Santo Domingo. The Coronado was supposedly injured, having been hit by pirates some eight hundred miles east of here¡ªthe rumour said it had been Black Caesar, the African slave that once served under Blackbeard, and the same rumour said she was bouncing around the islands, looking for a safe place to careen. Vhingfrith¡¯s theory was that something had gone wrong on board, either the Coronado¡¯s captain was inept and had become lost, or else many of the officers had died in the attack or from some malady, and she was undermanned. He ran his finger around a few scattered isles and cays, trying to imagine where the Coronado had gone. She¡¯ll be hiding in whatever coves she can find, hoping to find some sign of¡ª


    More shouting. There was a loud thump. Someone cried out.


    Then there came a scream. And a hush. The whole ship seemed to cast a pall, and went eerily quiet.


    Then came sudden bursts of shouting, arguing. The fiddler had stopped playing.


    Vhingfrith was only half aware of all this, but his father¡¯s ghost told him it presaged something dire. His eyelids began to feel heavy, and all he wanted was to sleep.


    Santo Domingo had his attention now, because the merchantman was reportedly being used to patrol many of the Spanish colonies in the area, but had become overly aggressive, and had gotten outfitted with better cannons and was now attacking ships outside of Spanish waters. Her captain was a man named Diego Morales, famous of the attack against the fort at St. Kitts seven years ago, which he battered nearly to dust. The fort still had not seen repair, and remained in shambles and was ripe as a grape for another attack. Perhaps he¡¯ll go back there.


    Benjamin had been tracking the Santo Domingo through the Bocas del Drag¨®n four months back, confident he was on Morales¡¯s trail, but he lost the ship due to a navigational disagreement with Fuller, his navigator. There had been a delay due to a loss of longitudinal fix¡ªlongitude was famously more difficult to fix than latitude (so much so that Parliament had recently passed the Longitude Act, offering twenty thousand pounds to anyone that could invent a reliable system by which to fix longitude), so Fuller could hardly be solely to blame. As it stood, all seamen were forced to rely on dead reckoning, gauging time using hourglasses and measuring speed by counting the knots in the ropes that were pulled into the sea.


    Fuller had struggled to make the final call, and missed. A pity. Morales had slipped the noose. Santo Domingo¡¯s captain was a fiend badly wanted by the Crown, and was also responsible, as it happened, in a roundabout way, for the death of Benjamin¡¯s father, though Benjamin tried not to let that¡ª


    Something banged hard against a bulkhead just outside his door. He heard raised voices, and recognized them for what they were. Sounds of panic.


    Vhingfrith grabbed one of the pistols on his desk.


    Then, for no reason at all, it occurred to him that the lanterns were still on. Both of them. Because if he did not have them lit, the room would be dark.


    Too dark.


    He recalled the sounding of the bells. Had it been six? Yes, six peals of the bell.


    Benjamin looked out the window. The dark sea still rolled behind him, the foaming waters that trailed them were visible by clear, silvery moonlight. He picked his timepiece up from his bed and looked at it again. Almost twenty minutes after the hour.


    That isn¡¯t right.


    He pocketed the timepiece and pulled on his full brace of pistols¡ªfour pistols were strapped across his chest now, each one primed and loaded. He grabbed his cutlass before unbolting the door and stepping out into the dark companionway.


    The first thing he noticed when passing forward through the small galley and thence through the companionway leading to the main deck, was that the men were all in some kind of eerie trance. Their faces were lined by distress. Vhingfrith¡¯s blood ran cold. Some were huddled in a corner, holding a wooden cross up to their foreheads or else kissing them. One of them, a carpenter named Gibbons, lay in his hammock with hands over his eyes¡ªhe appeared to be sobbing. A dozen others were standing about, pacing, some of them weeping. Three men injured during the attack on the nao were lying on tables, covered in blood, their bodies wrapped tightly in bandages and poultices applied by Tyndall. Of Tyndall himself, there was no sign, which was odd because Vhingfrith had specifically ordered the surgeon to stay with the wounded throughout the night.


    ¡°What in hell is going on?¡± he said.


    Benjamin looked around at the floor, empty cups strewn, their alcoholic contents forgotten in puddles running along the swaying planks. The man playing the flute had dropped it, and was on his knees now, hands together, praying in whispers.


    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± Vhingfrith asked them. ¡°You all look as if the King has died.¡± Most of the men never even looked at him. It was as if he was not there. This angered him. Vhingfrith had long ago become accustomed to being hated, and had learned to deal with it¡ªindeed, he often was able to use it as fuel for the men¡¯s labours, since their hate was often derived from fear of his queerness, and fear was just fine as a motivator¡ªbut indifference to him? Ignoring him? That could not be borne. ¡°Your captain asked you a question! What is the meaning of this?! Why is my crew not in order?!¡± he roared.


    A few of them jolted like reprimanded dogs. Some cast their gazes on him, and Vhingfrith suddenly had the feeling of being a lamb in the water, sensing the crocodiles beneath the surface. They seemed to be contemplating what to do with him.


    Something told him to pull one of his pistols. He had that sense. Vhingfrith had never dealt with mutiny himself, but he suspected he would know the signs. A general malaise of the spirit, an overlong torpor of the crew, and a large enough group of malcontents who stopped talking whenever the captain entered a room, and began whispering once he left.


    But this was not that.


    These men were not even talking. Well, not about him. A ghostly pall had sucked them all dry, left them bereft. The ones in the corner kept muttering to each other. McCullough was one of them, and he said, ¡°It¡¯s possible Fuller got it wrong! Don¡¯t shake yer head at me! All¡¯s I¡¯m sayin¡¯ is that it¡¯s possible¡ª¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s possible?¡± Benjamin demanded. He walked over to them. ¡°Tell it to me. What is it that¡¯s got you¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Cap¡¯n!¡±


    Vhingfrith whirled as Galbraith approached. His second mate had panic etched all over his features, and his eyes were wide as saucers. Is this it? Is this the ambush? Is this how it starts? ¡°Mr. Galbraith?¡±


    ¡°Cap¡¯n¡ªyou¡¯d better come topside! Come topside and have a look!¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Just come look.¡±


    ¡°Say it now, Mr. Galbraith! Or so help me God I¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    ¡°The sun¡¯s not up, you stupid fucking son of a bitch!¡± a voice cried.


    Vhingfrith turned on the man shouting it. It was Hoyt Burr, huddled in a corner at the far edge of the galley with his brother Gordon.


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    ¡°Say that again, Mr. Burr,¡± Vhingfrith said softly. ¡°Say that again, calmly, slowly, and without the venom.¡±


    The two Burr brothers said nothing.


    Is this how it begins? Madness sets in with some of them, and then mutiny commences? But this seemed strange. It had happened so fast. What spell could have come over them so quickly. They had all just been singing and dancing moments ago, he was sure he had heard it.


    The Burr brothers glared at him. Vhingfrith braced himself. He had killed their half-brother. They¡¯d let it go earlier because the crew was not on their side at the time, not during a dangerous gambit to obtain Spanish gold, and they had never truly loved their half-brother, but they could not let the insult go forever. But Vhingfrith had hoped to deal with them back in Nassau or Port Royal or anywhere on land.


    Bernhardt, the gun captain, stepped out of the crowd. His unblinking eyes were set on the captain, and his upper lip twitched. ¡°Sir,¡± he whispered, ¡°what has happened? The lads are saying the sun¡¯s late. What is happening?¡±


    Vhingfrith¡¯s nerves were more rattled than they had been when attacking the nao. ¡°What is all this talk? It¡¯s madness. What are you saying? Are you listening to yourselves?¡±


    ¡°Captain,¡± said Galbraith slowly. When Vhingfrith looked back at him, he saw the man¡¯s lower lip was trembling. He¡¯d never seen his second mate behave so cravenly. ¡°It¡¯s twenty-five minutes past the hour, sir. Come up top, please¡­and¡­well, just see for yourself.¡±


    ¡°What has happened, Mr. Galbraith?¡±


    Coming up behind the second mate was the first mate. Euric Jacobson materialized from the ladder with an expression gloomy even for him. His green eyes shone by the flickering light of the lantern in his hand. His wounded arm was in a sling.


    ¡°Mr. Jacobson, what is the meaning of all this? Who¡¯s been telling these men tales?¡±


    Jacobson looked almost faint. There were bloody bandages wrapped tight around the hole in his flesh where a lead ball had ripped through his arm. He set the lantern down and put one hand on a bulkhead and leaned there, but said nothing.


    Hoyt and Gordon Burr muttered something else behind his back.


    Vhingfrith pretended the Burr siblings were now beneath his concern, and strode away with all the confidence his father had used to quell malcontents on his crews. It was important now to show no fear.


    He followed his first and second mate up top, and stepped into a wind more chill than the one that had crept through his cabin window moments ago. Benjamin looked across the somewhat choppy waters, all black as ink except for the reflection of the gibbous moon. It was then he noticed something else. The moon. It was setting a little too low on the horizon. At that height, one would expect it to be midnight. What the devil?


    All at once, Vhingfrith became aware of what had driven most of his men belowdecks, for he felt it himself. A whole tangle of things was wrong, so many that he could not account for them or name them all at once, but he felt them viscerally, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to hide. He felt like a child again, afraid of some monster hiding behind a door or a snake in his closet, and if he looked in its direction it would snatch him by his legs and drag him to someplace dark. He wanted out of the sight of this unnatural sky. Something¡¯s wrong, he thought, gazing at the stars. Something¡¯s frightfully wrong. But a captain holds his crew together by his own example, his own will, and Benjamin Vhingfrith would not let this phenomenon unman him. Indeed, he would use it to underscore his unshakability.


    And yet still.


    ¡°What has happened, Mr. Jacobson?¡± he said, fighting to keep the tremor out of his voice. ¡°Tell me all that you know.¡±


    It was Galbraith who answered, for Jacobson only stared at the captain, as if daring him to answer for something.


    ¡°I can only say what I¡¯ve seen.¡± Galbraith was a tall man of middle age, with hair the colour of fire and a bushy beard he kept in braids. A fashion he had picked up from some of the privateers in Jamaica. The man had fought at sea on half a dozen English ships, had faced his death countless times, and was very nearly consumed by plague three years ago but pulled through it. During that time, he dreamt he was given a tour of Hell by Saint Peter himself, and was warned that if he did not change his ways, Hell was where he would end up. Gabriel Galbraith had told this story multiple times and everyone knew there weren¡¯t many things that shook the second mate, and yet now he held up a tremulous hand and pointed to Collins, a young seaman who stood near the bell and hourglass.


    ¡°Col¡ª¡± The second mate¡¯s voice caught in his throat. He cleared it. ¡°Collins, sir. He¡¯s the one made me aware of¡­this.¡± He waved to the sky. The night sky.


    Vhingfrith looked at the stars. There were thousands of them out, and something about them frightened him. A feeling crept down his neck, one he could not immediately identify. Cold fingers moved all over his arms and legs and groin. After a moment he realized this was a species of dread, akin to a time when, as a boy, he had sensed a creature hiding somewhere in his chest-of-drawers. His mother had pulled him by the hand into his room, practically dragging him across the floor towards his chest-of-drawers in the middle of the night to show him there was no one hiding inside.


    God¡¯s blood, what is this feeling?


    The night became colder as he stared at it. Whereas moments ago all he¡¯d been worried about was mutiny and murder, Captain Vhingfrith now had an unutterably strong sense that inimical forces surrounded him, and were tugging at the fronds of his coat. Yet he could not have pointed it out exactly, he could not have described it the way a professor would, he could not outline the details because it was the totality of everything being ¡°off¡± or ¡°tilted¡± as his father used to say.


    Vhingfrith nodded. Ah, I am dreaming. Yes, that must be it. Uncanny feelings like these were perfectly ordinary in that realm. Dreams were saturated with them, and no man or woman was free of those kinds of illusions. But dreams are visions of the past, his mother used to say, and visions of the future, both. Never ignore what they¡¯re telling you.


    So that settled it. And so, like a man in a dream, Vhingfrith obeyed the logic of the reality he was presented with, and played his part in the tale. He cleared his throat, if only to ensure it did not crack when he spoke. ¡°Where is Fuller?¡±


    It was gloomy Jacobson who answered. ¡°At the bow, Captain. He¡¯s got that, eh¡­what¡¯s it called? Your fancy device¡ª¡±


    ¡°The sextant. Good, good. Come with me, and we¡¯ll clear this up.¡±


    Vhingfrith now walked ahead of Jacobson and Galbraith with all the air of a man of temerity and confidence, though worry bore a hole through his stomach like a drill. This isn¡¯t right. This is all wrong. This is all so, so wrong. He wanted to keep himself of a mind that this was a dream and that he had control of it, but that was already slipping away.


    He found his navigator at the stern¡¯s railing, sitting there with Dawson, Osterholm, and Miller at his side, all of them holding up lanterns so that Fuller could better see the dials of the sextant in his hand.


    ¡°Mr. Fuller? What is the matter?¡±


    They all turned and looked at the captain coming up the steps. ¡°The matter, sir?¡± said Fuller, as though it was all self-evident. Perhaps it was. The old sailor brushed his stringy grey hair from his face, and spoke through a mouth of wooden teeth. ¡°Do you not see?¡±


    Vhingfrith¡¯s sangfroid expression fell on all of them. ¡°I see a black sky and black waters, and Mr. Galbraith has informed me that there is a delay of the sun. But since I know that no such event is possible, I come to you to see how it is that Mr. Collins managed to mis-time the bells, which has put my crew in quite a quarrel. Were you up here with him, Mr. Dawson?¡±


    ¡°I was, sir,¡± said the pilot. ¡°I¡­I cannot account for it. It makes no sense, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mr. Miller? Were you still in the crow¡¯s nest at the time of the sounding?¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain.¡± The lookout was ashen-faced and almost small in his childish expression of fear.


    Good God, what is this?


    Vhingfrith maintained his composure. ¡°And did either of you notice when Collins turned the glass too soon?¡± He pointed to the hourglass, which was currently still spilling its sand, slowly. Each turning marked a half-hour¡¯s passing, and currently its bottom was a quarter full.


    ¡°No, sir,¡± they said in unison.


    ¡°No? Hrm. Strange that you did not see it, Mr. Dawson, since it is your job to be a second set of eyes on¡ª¡±


    ¡°Beg your pardon, Captain, but there was no premature turn of the glass,¡± Jacobson said, in an almost-whisper. ¡°I was here on deck myself during Dawson¡¯s trick.¡± Trick was a term used by men of the Royal Navy to describe a man¡¯s allotted time at the helm. No one used the term if they had been born and raised in the Caribbean. Was it a subtle jab, even at this critical moment, from Jacobson? A reminder that Captain Vhingfrith was the true outsider here? Was he, Vhingfrith, looking too deeply into the word? ¡°I watched Collins turn the glass at exactly the moment the top emptied out.¡±


    Vhingfrith looked at his first mate, lanternlight gleaming off his bald pate. ¡°Then what, pray, am I looking at, Mr. Jacobson?¡± He looked out at the dark, foaming waters trailing behind them. He looked up at the mainsail, picking up a terrific draft of cool southeasterly wind, carrying them onwards to another black horizon. He looked at the low-hanging moon, and at the stars. Something was off about them, he was convinced. This is a dream. It has to be.


    The icy wind whispered in his ear, telling him his mother had been lying, that there had indeed been something hiding in his chest-of-drawers that night. Lawrence Burr was there, whispering same.


    He shook off the feeling, and asked Fuller, ¡°Have you taken a sight?¡±


    Fuller held up the sextant. ¡°I¡­that is¡­¡±


    ¡°Have you taken a sight or not, Mr. Fuller?¡± he said impatiently. ¡°It is a simple question.¡±


    His navigator looked at Dawson, then at the stars, then back at the captain. ¡°Captain, something¡¯s not right.¡±


    ¡°I know something¡¯s not right, Mr. Fuller. I have at least two men who made a misstep with the glass and sounded one too many bells, that much is plain. And that mistake has a lot of men distressed down below. I don¡¯t mind saying, Mr. Fuller, very distressed. I don¡¯t think I need tell you the delicate sensibilities of superstitious sailors, most of whom are only looking for a reason to believe a witch has bedeviled them if they wake up with spots on their face, or a curse has been laid on them because the wind makes an unusual shift in direction¡ª¡±


    ¡°Captain¡ª¡±


    ¡°That is what I¡¯m dealing with belowdecks, Mr. Fuller. Understand?¡± He stepped forward, his nose coming within inches of Fuller¡¯s. ¡°Have you seen the looks on their faces?¡±


    ¡°Captain, take a look yourself,¡± said Fuller pitifully, and held up the sextant. The hand that held it was quivering.


    Vhingfrith had both his hands clasped behind his back, he balled one of them into a fist for a moment while taking a deep, steadying breath. Another subtle trick his father had taught him for calming his nerves and maintaining composure when others were watching. Then he took the sextant and stood at the stern and sighted the heavens. (Without realizing it, Benjamin made sure to keep the other men in his right periphery, where he could see them, just in case this was all a trick to get him alone on the deck and complete the mutiny without bloodshed.)


    The sextant was an extremely rare device. In his whole life, Benjamin had only ever seen two with his own eyes: one on a Royal Navy ship of the line, and the one he was holding in his hands. The handheld device was merely speculative in the mind of the great Sir Isaac Newton twenty years ago, but experimental versions had been brought into being by inventors John Hadley and Thomas Godfrey, old friends of Benjamin¡¯s father. Held up to the face, small mirrors along the sextant¡¯s edge allowed the viewer to observe two heavenly bodies at once¡ªthe sun, the moon, planets, or stars¡ªand use their distance from the horizon to fix the viewer¡¯s position at sea. Normally, taking a sight of nighttime heavenly bodies was done at dawn or dusk, when the horizon could be more clearly delineated, but Vhingfrith had never seen a more brilliant moon, and, combined with the unnatural gift of his left eye, he could see the horizon clear.


    The sextant was such a rare device that only Benjamin and the navigators he¡¯d personally trained knew how to use it. And it was so expensive that it could never be used unless it was tied to the user¡¯s wrist by string, lest one of them accidentally drop it overboard.


    As Vhingfrith very nearly did now.


    The device almost slipped free of his grasp when he saw what had so alarmed Fuller. Vhingfrith held tight to his composure, betraying nothing. The first thing he noticed was Lacerta. That cluster of stars was not counted as a constellation until 1687, and most navigational charts did not include it, but he knew it well. As sighted, it ought to be between Cygnus and Cassiopeia, slightly closer to Cassiopeia. But it was now a great deal closer to Cygnus. And Cassiopeia herself was W-shaped, although now she appeared somewhat warped. The constellation had not changed shape since Ptolemy identified it in the second century. No constellation had. Because stars didn¡¯t move like that.


    Benjamin lowered the sextant, and gazed out at the sea for an answer. He knew there were phenomena at sea that could trick the eye, air-temperature changes that made a horizon seem higher than it was, or mirror-like waves that made distant ships seem to vanish. But he knew of none that warped the stars. Nor any that delayed sunrise. None whatsoever.


    ¡°Captain?¡± said Galbraith. ¡°Can you¡­see anything?¡±


    He means can my cat¡¯s-eye penetrate the dark and find the source of this trick.


    Benjamin continued sighting the stars a moment longer, buying time to think more than anything, and found that more constellations had been changed. He even found three or four new stars, which were immediately recognizable because of their brilliance. Then he spotted something off in the distance, and asked for a long glass, which Jacobson quickly supplied. Through it, Benjamin spied a small cay, maybe half a mile long.


    Off to starboard, a hundred yards parallel to them, flew the Hazard. Like Lively, most of her sails were free before the wind.


    ¡°Mr. Dawson, make a course to bring us alongside the Hazard. Slowly. Mr. Miller, get in the crow¡¯s nest with a lantern, and signal them that we need to meet. The rest of you gentlemen, get below. Speak to no one as you make your way to my quarters. Do you understand me? No one.¡±


    ¡°Too late, Captain,¡± said Miller, pointing. ¡°I think they¡¯re a-wantin¡¯ to palaver already.¡±


    Vhingfrith turned and saw a light just now winking in the Hazard¡¯s crow¡¯s nest. ¡°Follow me,¡± he said.


    Moments later they were all huddled in his cabin with the door barred, with eight different charts of the area splayed open in front of them. Some of the charts were drawn by the cartographer Sampson, and others came from the books of the Spaniards they¡¯d struck just hours ago. Someone found Tyndall, the surgeon, and ordered him to join them. The ship swayed easily while the seven men gathered round the captain¡¯s desk and pored over the charts. Charts of the stars, charts of the seas and isles and cays, charts of nearby ports. Vhingfrith had opened his rutter and let Osterholm scan it quickly for any mention of similar phenomena being experienced by captains that had passed through this region before.


    ¡°Right, so¡ªwe¡¯re here, soon to come to Bocas del Drag¨®n,¡± said Benjamin, his finger tracing a line of latitude across the series of straits. Galbraith placed a fresh lantern at the corner of the desk for them to see by, and the light also revealed the pallor of his flesh. Benjamin noted his second mate¡¯s lips had gone almost completely white. The man was utterly terrified, yet he was present and listening attentively to his captain. ¡°We cannot have drifted off our course. That cay I spotted is right where it¡¯s supposed to be. Here.¡± He pointed to the spot on the chart, which had been drawn up by a cartographer named Emmanuel Kroeg. Kroeg was one of the most celebrated mapmakers in the Caribbean, his charts known to be stunningly accurate. ¡°But even if we had strayed, I cannot comprehend that it would bring us this¡­confusion.¡± He would not yet call it a predicament. A predicament was an actual physical problem, and not a manifestation of illusion, panic or fatigue.


    Cold wind blew in through the window. With merely a nod, Vhingfrith ordered Collins to shut it.


    Then Vhingfrith did something that had earned him what modicum of respect he had managed to prise from these men. It was something that gained all men¡¯s respect, no matter their station¡ªhe humbly asked their opinions. ¡°Do any of you know of any phenomenon that could account for¡­whatever this is? Think hard. Even a sailor¡¯s tall tale spoken at an inn. Anything.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Jacobson.


    ¡°No,¡± said Galbraith.


    The rest of them shook their heads morosely.


    ¡°Fuller, Collins, you both are certain there was no mistake in the turns?¡±


    ¡°Positive, sir,¡± Fuller said.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain, Captain,¡± said Collins.


    ¡°Mr. Osterholm, you are the most experienced of any seaman on this ship. Have you ever observed an event such as this, or heard mention of one like?¡±


    The Jew¡¯s permanent frown deepened, as he ran a hand over the old axe wound on his head. ¡°No, Captain.¡±


    ¡°No? No strange illusions after a storm like the one last night? No strange weather that would create the illusion of a delayed sunrise?¡±


    Osterholm rubbed his heavy jowls. ¡°I can think of no such happening, sir.¡± His voice was so soft it barely escaped his lips.


    The room fell silent. Outside the door, they heard weeping. The ship creaked and moaned.


    Vhingfrith pressed his knuckles onto the desk. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. ¡°I lack for sleep,¡± he sighed. That gave him an idea. ¡°Is it possible¡­is it possible that all of us somehow¡­in our post-battle exultations and stresses, that we have experienced some sort of, I don¡¯t know, trauma, and that we collectively fell asleep and¡­¡± It sounded absurd even as he said it, but no more absurd than having no sun at nearly seven o¡¯clock. Still, though he was reluctant to countenance the idea, he had to exhaust all other possibilities. All other possibilities. ¡°Perhaps we somehow slept through an entire day?¡± he offered as a reason. ¡°Is that a phenomenon any of you are familiar with?¡±


    They all shook their heads.


    ¡°Let me be more clear. I need something I can walk out there with. Something I can tell them.¡± He pointed at the door.


    No one spoke.


    Vhingfrith looked out the window again, silently willing the sun to come up and let this all just be some strange collective hallucination. He had heard of men suffering such hallucinations when they were becalmed, baking in the sun¡¯s heat, starving and thirsting and close to death. But never the entire crew, and never had they all collectively hallucinated the exact same thing. He stared out at darkness, at the horizon, and thought, What the fuck is going on? Father, Mother, speak to me.


    ¡°Mr. Tyndall,¡± he said.


    ¡°Captain?¡± The surgeon was so tall he had to duck through every doorway, and his long, thin arms and spindly fingers had given rise to the nickname Scarecrow.


    ¡°Is it possible our food stores have been poisoned? I¡¯ve heard lead can do strange things once in a man¡¯s blood. Could we have eaten something that is somehow¡­somehow causing a mass delusion? Causing our eyes to see what isn¡¯t there, or not see what should be?¡±


    ¡°I have never heard of such a malady, sir.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure, Scarecrow?¡± said Galbraith.


    ¡°Positive, Mr. Galbraith. If there be a malady like this one, it¡¯s in no medical journal I ever read.¡±


    Vhingfrith wiped his brow.


    He checked his timepiece again. This time of year, the sun was meant to rise at five forty-eight. It was an event clearly seen and unmistakable on the open sea. The only way they could have missed it was if they were dead.


    Benjamin shivered at the thought. He would not let his mind go there. Into his mind, it would not enter that he and all his crew had somehow crossed into Death¡¯s realm. He would not let it. Not yet.


    Right now, he just needed to keep talking, keep his thoughts and good sense lubricated. He needed to gauge the mien of each of his officers and determine which ones were on the brink, and which ones were stolid. The only way to do that was to keep them talking and thinking. ¡°These cays here¡­I still believe they are good to careen.¡± He pointed on the map. ¡°We are still in need of repair, and perhaps there we can wait out this phenomenon.¡±


    Jacobson blanched. ¡°Wait it out?¡±


    ¡°How long could that take?¡± asked Fuller.


    Benjamin winced. ¡°You mean how long will it take for the sun to return? Since we are apparently the first witnesses to this phenomenon, Mr. Fuller, you cannot expect me to answer that.¡±


    Collins leaned against a bulkhead and muttered something under his breath. Jacobson crossed his arms and stared judiciously out the window. Galbraith looked in that moment like he mistrusted everyone and everything. Vhingfrith knew they were all feeling cousins to the same emotion: that feeling of sinking in quicksand, or falling into waters too turbulent and deep to wade or swim. But also, they would be revisiting old fairy tales their grandfathers told them, and conjuring up notions of curses. Surely, some of them would blame him, or else the Negro slaves in the hold below, the ones liberated from the Nuestra. Africans were said to practice black magic¡­


    How long before they find that explanation convenient, and begin tossing the slaves overboard?


    How long before I am lumped into that remedy?


    Vhingfrith had so far avoided being in the presence of the slaves. He had experienced it before¡ªthey had the look of Moors, and Moors would take one look at him and see him as the worst sort of traitor to his people. For half-breeds among whites or Negroes, trust was a sea of shallow waters.


    He and his lead officers continued going over the possibilities, or the lack thereof. They checked and rechecked the charts, as though it would do any good. Vhingfrith and Fuller, being the only ones able to use the sextant, ran through the mathematical procedures, checked the globe in the corner of the captain¡¯s cabin, and used sight reduction to draw the equal-altitude circle of the sighted celestial bodies on the globe. The intersection of that circle with a dead-reckoning track gave their precise location. They checked their findings against the charts while the others continued to debate, and some pray, while casting the occasional fearful look out the window.


    What the fuck his happening? Benjamin thought, pacing, running a hand over his lips in consternation. What is this? What is it? There was no response from his father¡¯s ghost, though Burr¡¯s was chuckling in the corner.


    ¡°Could be them Negroes down in the hold,¡± someone finally said. It was Galbraith, with a look to Jacobson, who only shrugged.


    Vhingfrith pretended not to hear. He consulted the rutter for a while before handing it back to Osterholm. He checked the stars again using an astrolabe. He looked at Ursa Minor, its handle too short, its spoon too wide. Other constellations seemed to be missing altogether. What in God¡¯s name?


    He checked his charts.


    He looked at the star-studded sky.


    Where is the sun? It was such an absurd question to be asking, and yet Vhingfrith stared at the illogic of this moment, which he no longer dismissed as a dream. He kept glancing at the window. God¡¯s wrath! Where is it? This cannot be! Now his own panic threatened to overtake him, and he had to wrestle with his manhood to remain rooted and sane.


    Outside the door, they could hear men beginning to talk. Someone was shouting. Someone else gave a wail. ¡°Go see what that¡¯s about, Mr. Jacobson, if you please.¡±


    Jacobson gave him a look of irritation. He massaged his wounded arm as his eyes lingered on the captain a moment. Something passed between them, a warning that went both ways. Then Jacobson unbarred the door and left.


    Fuller was praying in a corner to himself.


    There came the sounds of a scuffle outside in the galley.


    ¡°Mr. Osterholm, have you found anything in the rutter?¡±


    ¡°No, Cap¡¯n,¡± the Jew sighed quaveringly, closing the book. ¡°Nothing like¡­like¡­¡±


    ¡°Keep looking.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve perused almost all of it¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then stop perusing it and read it! Thoroughly!¡±


    The door swung open and Jacobson stepped back inside, his visage severe. There was a fresh cut upon his brow, and ample blood dripping from it, though he ignored it. ¡°We have a problem brewing, Captain. The men are starting to fight. Some of them are throwing things, saying we are dead and have entered Hell and the others are telling them to shut up¡ª¡±


    ¡°Dead!¡± Vhingfrith snarled.


    ¡°Aye. They say we¡¯re in Hell. That¡¯s why there¡¯s no sun¡ª¡±


    Benjamin rose to his full height and stormed over to the door and threw it open. But he found himself face to face with Dawson, who came stumbling towards him. ¡°Sir,¡± the whey-faced pilot said hastily, ¡°we¡¯ve docked with the Hazard, but there¡¯s been a problem with the rest o¡¯ the lads¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know, and I mean to end these skirmishes!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not just the fighting, sir.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡ª¡±


    There came a cry. A single word. It was the single most feared word to any seaman. ¡°Fire!¡±


    Benjamin and his officers ran to the main deck, shoving past twenty or thirty men, and together they tackled a sailor lighting ropes on fire with a torch.

 Chapter 6: The Hellmouth

    the pirate code ¨C First set out by the Portuguese buccaneer Bartolomeu Portugu¨ºs in the early 1660s, the First Tenet is as follows: Every man has a vote of affairs in moment; has equal title to the provisions, including strong liquors, at any time seized, and may use them at leisure, unless there be a scarcity. The Eighth Tenet states that no man may strike another while at sea, and that all serious quarrels are settled on shore, with a single sword, and a single pistol with one shot only.


    ABNER DRAINED HIS mug of rum and limped to the portside rail, his mind a tumult of dark clouds. Hands shaking, he fought to compose himself. Something had hold of him, had hold of them all. He feared the night sky. Fearing the waters at night was nothing new to him, but now, for the first time ever, he actually feared the night sky. ¡°Be at the capstan, young man,¡± he muttered to Dobbs. The boy obeyed without saying anything. None of the men were saying anything, and even Anne Bonny, normally unflappable, seemed keen on keeping herself close to the lanterns. Close to the light. The sun had not shown and some of them thought they had entered the Hellmouth. Abner himself might have believed it. Might¡¯ve been him that first uttered the word to the others. Hellmouth. In fact, Abner was sure it had been him, half an hour ago, when speaking with LaCroix and Stewart by the bowsprit.


    The Lively ran smoothly alongside them. Both ships reefed their sails, and anchors were dropped to keep them steady. Ropes were thrown over and planks were set up between them so that the two captains could have their palaver.


    Abner looked abaft. The sun ought to be rising over the stern railing, but it was stubbornly absent. The stumps of his missing fingers touched the cross at his neck.


    He looked across at the Lively, just in time to see some turbulence amongst the men was being quelled. There had been flames on the main deck, just aft of the helm, and for a moment everyone aboard the Hazard had watched in stunned silence as the crew of the Lively raced with buckets, dousing the flames before tackling a man with a torch.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± asked Reginald, the cook. ¡°They lighting a fire on their bridge on purpose?¡±


    ¡°Someone did,¡± said Okoa, hopping up alongside Abner. ¡°I saw it all. One man set fire. Saw captain tackle him.¡±


    ¡°Who the bloody hell would set a fire on a ship on purpose?¡± said Bonny, passing through their group like a wraith, practically unseen. She wore a short coat with broad, plate buttons, but she wore no shoes or stockings. A brace of three pistols hung from her shoulder like a bandolier. Most of the blood from the earlier fighting had been washed away, but some still clung to her fingernails.


    As always, no one answered her.


    Abner looked away from the filthy woman, he needed no more reminder of her tonight. She was perhaps second only to Captain Laurier himself in blasphemers, and just now Abner had little patience for that.


    Okoa and Reginald¡ªboth wearing red handkerchiefs around their heads, both wearing yellow sashes, from which hung their pistols¡ªlaunched into speculations about the fire aboard the Lively but Abner was barely listening to them. He massaged his aching knees and looked around at the ashen faces of his crewmen. Some of them he knew well, most of them he had had only months to become acquainted. He loved them, almost as much as God loved them, and he feared for their souls. They were all dressed for battle now, perhaps expecting a trick from the Lively¡¯s crew.


    Their fears were self-evident. Tomlinson had already vomited over the starboard rail, but had done his best not to be seen doing it. Others looked just as sick with worry. Jenkins and Owens were huddled at the bow, leaning against stays and muttering to one another. Abner heard someone weeping, but he thought it was below the main hatch, so he could not tell who it was. Thirty other men chattered about their theories, their speculations, their fears. Someone was talking about stealing one of the longboats and just rowing away from both ships, as they believed the Hazard and the Lively were now joined in a curse, and that somehow getting distance from them would bring back the sun.


    And there were the faces of the new men, the Negroes liberated from the Nuestra. Their flesh was so black it was near impossible to see them in the dark. They walked about with nervous faces, all except the one with the scarred face, who Okoa said was called Akil. The man was large, and finely muscled, and a full head taller than the tallest of Hazard¡¯s crew, with the calm predatory eyes of a raven. Those raven¡¯s eyes raked slowly across the sea, as if he himself was contemplating the anomaly. The other Africans stood behind Akil, sometimes muttering in their mongrel tongue.


    Is this their doing? Did the captain curse us all by liberating them?


    Captain Laurier said they were crew now. The Ladyman had taken on such despondent souls before, and even more wayward ones. It was not the captain¡¯s charity that worried Abner so much, but the stories he had heard about African slaves turning on their masters and slaughtering whole crews. Some even did so after they were liberated. Black Caesar had been one of them, and everyone knew what a demon he was.


    Lord in Heaven, has there ever been a less auspicious night?


    Abner looked to the night sky and prayed. They were all praying. Had to be. Even though the Ladyman forbade it, Abner could see it in their eyes, could see their lips moving. Doubtless, they were calling upon the favours of angels and dead relatives they had not spoken to in ages. Even young Dobbs, so enraptured by Captain Laurier¡¯s prowess in battle, was breaking the rule by muttering something under his breath constantly, an old Scottish prayer. Abner kept touching his crucifix, the stumps of his two fingers worrying over the tip of it. A few times he kissed it and silently offered God his own soul in exchange for the rest of the men¡¯s safe passage back through the Hellmouth.


    We must be in the Hellmouth, he now decided. It¡¯s the only reason it is so dark. We¡¯ve been swallowed whole. Then his bitter heart spoke what had been growing inside him. Because the Ladyman¡¯s love for the Negro captain is unholy.


    It was the first time the reasoning had entered into his mind, and though he dismissed it, he knew it would return.


    We are in the Hellmouth, and no mistaking it.


    Abner had seen the Hellmouth only once in a painting of the Last Judgment. It had been an accidental sighting, long ago, when he was just a boy in London, passing through an alleyway behind a museum. There he witnessed the museum¡¯s curator hauling the painting into a wagon. The image was horrific, naked souls screaming as they fell into the black gullet of some demon, with a bare splash of red at the back of the demon¡¯s throat, hinting at Hell¡¯s eternal flame waiting for them. He had asked a priest about it, but the priest¡¯s answer had only unsettled him more. It is the passage into Hell, he had said, which some believe is like a great throat all damned souls pass through on their way down.


    ¡°You¡¯re thinking it¡¯s the Hellmouth, mon ami,¡± said an accented voice.


    Abner turned to see the Frenchman there. ¡°What?¡± he said, trying to sound calm.


    ¡°All the men are whispering about it,¡± said LaCroix. ¡°I assumed it was you that started the rumour.¡± His black hair was disheveled, his trimmed beard clumped together, no doubt because of the rum he had spilled into it, the rum Abner could still smell on his breath. They had all been drinking in revelry when the word was quickly spread that the sun was late. Abner¡¯s own head was pounding from it. Perhaps that was why the Frenchman spoke in such a self-possessed tone, with a grim and mocking smile. ¡°But if we sailed into it, we can just turn back around and sail the other way, and back out of it, oui?¡± He laughed, but it was an empty laugh, made to sound like he was not worried. But he is. God help us, even the Frenchman is scared.


    ¡°It is not that simple,¡± Abner said, and looked back at the smoke rising from the Lively¡¯s deck.


    Beside him, Dobbs had stepped up. He looked uncomfortably at the Frenchman.


    ¡°Why is it not that simple?¡± LaCroix asked.


    ¡°Because it isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Dobbs asked. Apparently, he had overheard every bit of their conversation.


    ¡°You see, mon ami? Even the boy here must¡¯ve been in a Nassau whorehouse, for he knows how to back out of a hole he¡¯s not wanted in.¡± LaCroix wheezed with laughter. Others around him gave menacing looks. The Frenchman did not know how close to death he was, for despite his cleverness and ingenuity, he was not as popular as he thought.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Abner¡¯s anger was inflamed. LaCroix had always enjoyed teasing the quartermaster more than others. Abner started to chastise LaCroix, but just then Tomlinson strode up and whispered, with slurred speech, ¡°But that¡¯s jes the point, is it not? Perhaps we are wanted here. In the Hellmouth.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked Dobbs, shivering visibly.


    ¡°I mean, we may be in the Hellmouth by purpose of a grander design, li¡¯l nipper.¡±


    Dobbs¡¯s face, already pale white by lanternlight, turned even paler.


    ¡°Don¡¯t frighten the boy, you,¡± Abner said.


    ¡°You mean don¡¯t frighten you, old man,¡± said LaCroix. ¡°Let young Dobbs figure out for himself what is¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re no¡¯ in any ¡¯Ellmouth!¡± said Jaime. The Scotsman came striding out of nowhere and gave the Frenchman a shove. ¡°Away¡¯n bile your head, ye simple Jessie. We¡¯re nae in any fookin¡¯ portal into ¡¯Ell.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve still no idea what you¡¯re saying, monsieur, even after sailing with you for six months I¡¯ve no idea. Your people speak as if goat¡¯s balls are always floating in your mouths¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fook you, Frenchie.¡±


    Dobbs gave a nervous chuckle.


    Abner hissed at them all to keep quiet. It looked like an argument was about to spark into violence when the Ladyman appeared from belowdecks in a new and elegant blue skirt and jacket, followed sharply by Kepler, Cedar, and Oliver. The last three were speaking heatedly to one another in hushed tones. The Ladyman spoke to no one as he strode past them, his skirt snapping in the chill breeze.


    ¡°It¡¯s cold,¡± Tomlinson said. He had a blanket pulled tight around himself.


    ¡°That¡¯s ¡¯ow yeh know it¡¯s nae a ¡¯Ellmouth, lads,¡± said Jaime. ¡°No one e¡¯er accused ¡¯Ell of bein¡¯ cold.¡±


    Abner watched the captain closely. They all did. Laurier paused at the plank. He turned suddenly, walked quickly over to Abner, and continued past him and spoke to the Frenchman. ¡°LaCroix, have you any more progress to report on those devices?¡±


    What devices? Abner thought. His mind suddenly raced with questions. What is this intrigue?


    LaCroix nodded. ¡°Aye, Capitaine.¡±


    Laurier¡¯s face became ruminative. ¡°Bring them to my quarters. Now.¡±


    ¡°Aye.¡±


    Abner did not ask what this was about. LaCroix left quickly and the Ladyman went to the port rail to receive the captain of the Lively. It ate at him, though, that he did not know what had just transpired between the captain and the Frenchman. As quartermaster, Abner was never the last to know about anything. It made him uneasy to be kept out of the loop now.


    But Abner¡¯s mind was never far from his duty. He watched three men working the capstan and limped over to them to remind them to place the toggle through the bight of the rope, and then he himself slipped another toggle through the bolt to keep everything in place. He growled at them, ¡°You ought to remember this by now without me having to tell you!¡± They looked suitably chastised, and Abner knew he¡¯d snapped only so as to vent. He looked up through the masts. Hazard was at bare poles, all sheets rolled up and secured. Dead in the water. Then he looked aft, at the moon riding low on the horizon. Far too low. But something else caught his concern. Abner wondered if he was the only one who saw it¡­


    The moon. Something strange about it¡ª


    ¡°Coming aboard!¡± called one of Lively¡¯s crew. It was a tall, bald man who preceded the half-Negro captain. Abner knew the man was Jacobson, first mate on the Lively. A most formidable man, with a bit of a reputation in the Caribbean, practically legendary in his bravery and fighting skills. The story from Hazard¡¯s crew was that they had seen him fighting like hell aboard the nao and slew many men on his own, even after he had taken a shot to his arm.


    Abner believed it. During his time with Hazard, he had chance to meet with Jacobson on many occasions. Hazard and Lively were intertwined in a way that few crews liked¡ªthe privateers aboard Lively knew they were skirting a line by getting help from pirates to take down a Spanish vessel, and the pirates aboard Hazard knew that at any moment the privateers may try to make good on the rewards offered on many of their heads in Nassau and Port Royal.


    But the alliance between the two ships had worked out thus far. Swimmingly, in fact. Never had either ship come into greater riches than when their captains leaned on one another to ensnare a Spanish vessel in some pincer or trap. Together, the Hazard and the Lively had half sunk a Spanish brig along a string of cays, harried another one until it ran aground on St. Lucia, and split the treasures on both. And that was just during the time Abner had been with them. Before that, stories said the Ladyman and the Devil¡¯s Son had partnered on many ventures, including capturing two Spanish sloops secretly anchored in an inlet at Madagascar. The story went the Ladyman anchored his ship around the headland, and that he and what few of his crew that could swim (there were always few of those) swam beneath the waves for almost an hour, and boarded one of the sloops at dusk, while the Lively hammered the other one from sea. And after every two or three ventures like that, both the Ladyman and the Devil¡¯s Son would separate, traveling apart for months before rendezvousing again. Then, they would both have need to replace at least half their crews once back in Port Royal¡ªfew people could tolerate either captain¡¯s strangeness for very long.


    This arrangement between the Lively and the Hazard had been very lucrative for both ships for years, Abner knew, that is, until some disagreement between the two captains drove a wedge, and not long after that England began having a severe distaste for piracy, despite the many Spanish ships the pirates in the Caribbean had sank, and while Captain Vhingfrith had done the predictable thing and maintained legitimacy by acquiring letters of marque, and paying a percentage of his prizes to the Crown, Captain Laurier had remained what he always had been: a rogue of the sea.


    ¡°Strange business, this,¡± said Anne Bonny, pacing in front of Abner. ¡°No sun. Strange moon.¡±


    So, she sees it, too. Something about that moon¡­


    Across the plank came the Devil¡¯s Son. Even for Abner, so accustomed to things that would be seen as taboo outside of the Caribbean, he found the mere idea of a mix-breed almost as grotesque as the vision of that same mix-breed being made captain of anything. It was not completely unheard of. The famed pirate Black Caesar was himself captain of a vessel, but Caesar was a pirate, and Vhingfrith was a privateer. It might be hypocritical for Abner to be so severe in thinking England, a country he loathed, was somehow besmirching all white men by debasing itself to permit a half-Negro to be captain of anything¡­But I don¡¯t care. It isn¡¯t natural.


    Nor is what the two of them get up to when they are alone.


    That part galled him the most. Almost to the point he forgot that the reason for this premature rendezvous was because the sun had so far not deigned to rise.


    Abner looked back at the moon. Something so strange about it, and it was growing stranger by the minute.


    What is it? Is it the shape? It does appear to be more egg-shaped than¡ª


    Abner watched Vhingfrith and his first mate step down onto the deck of the Hazard, and fought back his disgust and stayed by Captain Laurier¡¯s side. Abner and Jacobson nodded curtly to one another.


    When Laurier and Vhingfrith laid eyes on one another, it was immediately clear to Abner what their true relationship was. A smile was all he needed to see, a feigned formality when they shook hands. It was in the air between them. Lust, shame, bitterness, love. Abner could detect all the revolting aromas.


    They were men of the Molly-house, performing dalliances meant to be conducted only between a man and a woman. Or once had been. Abner had caught men buggering in shadows and brought them before captains to be given their twenty lashes, so he was ingrained in the laws of the sea, which had always forbade two men lying with one another. Not to mention his Faith told him of the immorality of it. He had hoped his love and loyalty for Captain Laurier would never give him conflict again. But the Ladyman liked to test him. He liked to test everyone.


    ¡°Captain Laurier,¡± Vhingfrith said.


    ¡°Captain Vhingfrith, welcome aboard.¡± The Ladyman smiled. Has he reapplied his lipstick? Abner wondered. Yes, he has. And it was blue now, instead of red. And by torchlight he saw the Ladyman had applied black charcoal around his eyes, as well as fresh rouge to his cheeks. ¡°We saw fire on your deck as you approached. Is everything all right?¡±


    ¡°One of my men is suffering from a mind sickness, I¡¯m afraid,¡± said Vhingfrith. ¡°And in his panic he caused a fire and then only made it worse by his ministrations. Just a small matter, nothing to concern you.¡±


    Laurier smiled again. ¡°I see. Well, good of you to come aboard during this rather strange predicament.¡±


    Predicament? Strange? Abner¡¯s mind raced. You make it sound like we¡¯ve merely run aground. What do you mean predicament? The fucking sun is missing!


    ¡°Of course,¡± Vhingfrith said, all smiles. ¡°Perhaps we can figure this out together.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m certain that we can.¡±


    Then, Abner caught a look in both the eyes of Vhingfrith and his first mate. Their gazes raked across the crew of the Hazard. Abner registered the contempt in them, and his agitation from the moment only swelled. They judge us. Abner had seen this look of disdain before. All of Hazard¡¯s men were labeled pirates and many of them were set to be hanged. Not only that, but some of them were wearing petticoat-breeches and laced shoes that, to a careful eye, would obviously have originated from well-to-do Englishmen, or even officers of the Royal Navy. They¡¯ll be a-wondering how came we by such garments.


    By piracy, of course. And murder of Catholic-hating Englishmen, which Abner was usually quite fine with and sorted out with his Creator after each violent offence. Vhingfrith and Jacobson had allied with the Ladyman before, but how long before scenes such as this would put them over the edge?


    ¡°Why has the sun not come up?!¡± someone shouted abruptly, interrupting Abner¡¯s thoughts.


    Others took up the call.


    The two captains merely glanced in the crowd¡¯s direction. Then they both smiled as if this was all just a silly matter, and Laurier directed Vhingfrith belowdecks. Jacobson followed, and so did Abner. But before they went down the ladder, Abner saw the subtle movement between the captains.


    They reached out to one another to shake hands again, to seal the partnership.


    Their hands touched.


    Abner saw it. They all saw it, they had to. A spark of something more, a kind of love that ought to be reserved only for a partner as God intended. In that moment, Abner Crane saw his years-long mistake of serving at Laurier¡¯s side. It happened in an instant. God in Heaven, forgive me for being so blind. Save us.


    He took one last look back at the moon, its shape somehow odd to him. And he was now certain there was only one way out of this Hellmouth.

 Chapter 7: A Review of the Facts

    tramontane ¨C A cold, dry wind blowing in from the north.


    IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE to say with certainty which stymied John more: his conflicting emotions at seeing Benjamin Vhingfrith once more on his vessel¡ªan event the man himself had long sworn would never happen again¡ªor the celestial phenomenon for which they had convened to discuss. Two impossible events in one day, he thought, smiling. Which one goes in my journal first?


    The four of them¡ªJohn Laurier, Benjamin Vhingfrith, Abner Crane, and Euric Jacobson¡ªgave no more formalities or pleasantries than were required by cause, and spoke only of the events of the day. Or night, as it were. There was no talk of the Nuestra or the supplies or slaves they¡¯d obtained from her, nor any congratulatory talk of a plan well executed, nor any admirations for the fighting men on both vessels. There was manic discussion, most of which avoided fears and superstitions, and focused squarely on the charts and rutters. Vhingfrith had brought over charts and maps. They discussed the strangeness of the stars, the oddness of which Laurier himself had only just noticed before Vhingfrith came aboard. And then they discussed the sextant, the science of which only Vhingfrith himself understood, and which he assured all present only added to the horror. He did not use the word ¡°horror,¡± but John could tell it was at the forefront of his mind.


    I know you, Benjamin. I can see your beautiful, tormented, conflicted, gorgeous mind. And you are scared. So am I.


    John spoke little. He paced the room holding a copy of The Flower of Battle in his hands, thumbing through Fiore¡¯s depictions of close combat with a dagger. He offered the other men wine, which they accepted¡ªall but Jacobson, that is. Laurier knew Jacobson despised him above all pirates, even though not much separated their two besides a writ from the Governor of Port Royal, hastily scribbled and tossed in Vhingfrith¡¯s direction to get him and his privateer crew out on the seas attacking Spanish ships. Imagine it. They do exactly the same work as we do. A thin piece of parchment is all that keeps them from the gallows.


    The four of them ruminated on the possibilities of the phenomenon, but all deferred to the figure at the center of all this debate, the one with superior knowledge of the sea, and the man that John had nothing but the greatest affection for. The man he loved.


    Tall and refined, despite his lack of societal station, Benjamin Vhingfrith appeared as a monolith, or a calm dinghy in some turbulent storm. Whatever the crisis, he endured it. Up one wave and back down the other side. The other two men in the room, Abner and Jacobson, certainly disliked the Devil¡¯s Son¡ªindeed, they were likely revolted by him¡ªand yet they said nothing. Not in this moment. This was Captain Vhingfrith¡¯s power, the only thing that kept him from being bound in chains in Antigua or slaving in a sugar field in Nevis.


    His mind is so beautiful. And there is even more to it, I suspect, than what he puts on display. There would have to be, wouldn¡¯t there?


    The intrigue for John was almost unbearable. He paced around Benjamin, watching his composure, listening to his command over language and mathematics and navigation.


    John removed his jacket and skirt, walked bare-chested but with pants on, watching Benjamin take command of the discussion. John let him assume it. And the privateer captain pointedly ignored John Laurier while he looked over Hazard¡¯s rutters, comparing them against his own. As he watched Benjamin, John listened to him try to make sense of this phenomenon. He watched Benjamin¡¯s ring-laden fingers run across charts, and observed his smooth brown face¡ªIs it freshly shaven?¡ªand the evenness of his red coat. The coat was well maintained, like his hair and countenance. Like his thoughts, not much of Benjamin Vhingfrith strayed from a clean pattern. Here was a black panther in the snow, alone and shivering, yet never shedding its grace and cunning.


    John had never been so fascinated by a creature in all his life, and knew he never would be again. How could he, when all other wonders, great and wondrous, were made tiny in Vhingfrith¡¯s enigmatic shadow? Mystery kept the Devil¡¯s Son in that lofty spot in John¡¯s heart. Mystery of his goals, his means, and above all else his needs. John craved to help him, to give him succour and stability, like the kitten he¡¯d brought in from the rain when he was a boy, and hidden from his father, because he knew his father would get rid of it. John knew his feelings were inappropriate, for Benjamin was not a kitten, he was a man, and he required no protection that his own cunning mind could not provide.


    ¡°It is not a tramontane, I keep telling you,¡± said Vhingfrith patiently, glancing over at his first mate. ¡°We are too far south for it. And even if it were, I cannot but dismiss the notion it would have anything to do with¡­this.¡± He gestured out the window at the rear of the cabin. It was open, and a cold gust ruffled the curtains. Nothing but a sea of black waters reflected the fugue of stars above.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± said Laurier, closing Fiore¡¯s book and returning to the discussion. His mind had been far afield, thinking of a time not too long ago when Benjamin Vhingfrith had almost been his.


    Vhingfrith glanced over at John. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not nothing,¡± Jacobson said coldly, and massaged his wounded arm. ¡°That wind is unseasonably cold. It has to mean something¡ª¡±


    ¡°But it may not mean what you think it means, Mr. Jacobson,¡± Vhingfrith interrupted brusquely.


    Laurier looked over at the window. Yes, he had been noticing the precipitous drop in the temperature. Highly unusual for these latitudes, especially this time of year.


    ¡°This wind may have nothing to do with the phenomenon at all, merely a coincider,¡± Vhingfrith went on.


    ¡°A what?¡± said Jacobson.


    ¡°A consequence of this phenomenon on the sea and air. In other words, this phenomenon may be causing it, rather than it causing the phenomenon.¡±


    Phenomenon. That was the word they had been using to describe this event. Laurier had watched the three of them toss the word back and forth, and had even, on occasion, found himself stifling a grin. He did not wish to make light of a dire moment¡ªit was a thing Benjamin had often criticized him for¡ªbut watching them all struggle with the ¡°phenomenon¡± while he had already decided to accept it was entertainment in itself. Yet he did not discount the danger they faced, nor did he deny a trickle of fear in his heart for what it meant. But fear could be exciting. John was able to keep both thoughts in mind at once¡ªthe cataclysm they were all potentially facing, and the fact said cataclysm had brought Benjamin back aboard the Hazard, were intwined.


    To whomever stole the sun, may I give him my thanks. It was a flight of fancy, a bit of levity to keep his courage from failing, and a moment later his mind returned to reality, to the dangerous connotations of the phenomenon.


    Abner chimed in, stroking his beard fiercely, with hands that occasionally shook. ¡°We¡¯ve been searching the rutters and charts for some kind of account of this phenomenon,¡± he said. ¡°But ought we go back even further?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Jacobson said. ¡°The histories? Are any such accounts on board this vessel?¡±


    ¡°I can assure you,¡± said Vhingfrith, ¡°if there were any such accounts of this phenomenon in any history book, I would have heard about them.¡±


    But John already knew where Abner was going. ¡°You¡¯ve met my quartermaster before, Captain Vhingfrith. You know that he believes in the literal translation of the Scripture. Men parting seas and walking on water. Are there any accounts of a phenomenon like this in any interpretations you¡¯ve all found? I believe that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking, isn¡¯t it, Abner?¡±


    Abner gave Laurier a look he found unsettling. ¡°Aye. It is, Captain.¡±


    Vhingfrith glanced at Laurier, then at Abner. ¡°Though I respect and appreciate your devotion to the Faith, Mr. Crane, I do not think floating that fancy around at a time like this¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fancy!¡±


    ¡°¡ªshall do us any good. We¡¯ve got two crews filled with superstitious men. Some of them are already losing their grip.¡±


    Laurier cocked his head. ¡°The fire?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What fire?¡± Abner said. ¡°You mean the one aboard the Lively?¡±


    Laurier nodded. ¡°I thought it was something of the like.¡±


    ¡°What are you two talking about?¡±


    Vhingfrith sighed. ¡°The man that set the fire on my ship, he didn¡¯t just go mad, Mr. Crane. He wanted to bring back the light. He wanted to propitiate God, or someone like Him, to try and bring light back into the world. His mother was Greek, and believed in certain spirits that can only be pacified by flame.¡± He looked at John. ¡°Have you had anything like that happen on your ship?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± John shrugged, and sipped some wine. ¡°But I expect it soon.¡±


    ¡°You seem very nonchalant about the idea of mass delusion and panic taking over.¡±


    ¡°The minds of sailors and seamen are filled with delusions, one of their delusions is that they will gain fast wealth with but a few journeys aboard a privateer or pirate ship.¡± John gave another shrug. ¡°As leaders, we count on their delusions and cultivate them, make them grow in whichever direction we wish, until at last, one day, their delusions collapse in on themselves and they die in a gutter in Port Royal. What matter?¡±


    Vhingfrith lifted an eyebrow. ¡°What matter?¡± He pointed to the door. ¡°Do you see that door?¡± They all looked to it. ¡°Notice it has a bar on it, for locking. Now, why would a captain ever need bar his own door? Certainly, every sailor knows to knock before he enters the captain¡¯s cabin, so who would just barge in on him unannounced? No one. And a captain ought to be one available to his senior officers at every hour, so it is not for privacy¡¯s sake. And it cannot be there in case of a ship being taken over, because if a captain has to hide within his own cabin, then the ship is already lost and locking the door cannot do much good. So why then would the shipbuilders deign to place a bar there at all, on that door of all doors?¡±


    No one answered.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you why, Captain Laurier. It is because of an event no one wants to discuss. That bar exists solely for one purpose, and for one purpose only: mutiny. It is to keep those susceptible to mass delusion from committing the entire ship to total ruin, and perhaps grant the captain a bit of time to formulate a plan or negotiate with the mutineers, or with anyone left that¡¯s loyal to him. So, tell me, how can you be so dismissive of delusion when you know mutiny cannot lag far behind it, when the bar on that door shall surely be put to use?¡±


    ¡°Mutiny is never far behind,¡± John granted. ¡°It is merely kept behind a fa?ade of order and manners, which both act as a wall to keep enough men in line that they keep the rest in line. This is all order is, Benjamin. Keeping enough men afraid so that they keep the others in line. You know this. Just enough.¡±


    ¡°Captain Vhingfrith, sir,¡± said Benjamin. ¡°Just because we are joined in this moment by calamity does not mean you can be so familiar.¡±


    A smile touched John¡¯s lips. ¡°Very well. Captain.¡±


    An iciness temporarily blanketed the room, and it rivaled the wind.


    Jacobson growled, ¡°So what are we to do?¡±


    Vhingfrith sighed. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Jacobson, for the first actual question of import I¡¯ve heard since this phenomenon began. Because it does not matter now what the cause of this phenomenon is, but rather what course we shall take from here. Now, as you can see here, we are near a series of cays, perhaps half a day¡¯s sail to the first cluster.¡± He pointed out this cluster on the charts laid across Laurier¡¯s desk. ¡°I¡¯ve careened in two of these cays before, and there are shores close by where the men can fish. Both our ships may conduct repairs while the tide is low, and when it returns, we shall set sail for Port Royal.¡±


    ¡°Port Royal?¡± John asked.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Why there, may I ask? Why not Kitts or somewhere closer?¡±


    ¡°Captain Laurier, we are at sea without a sun, and with men setting fire to their ship in order to summon it back. Ships are like little islands, I¡¯m sure you know, with nowhere for madmen to run to, nowhere to go. The delusions you spoke of so favourably before as a means to use as a kind of¡­I can only say a tool to guide men¡¯s hearts¡­those same delusions will become like a tidal wave coming over the railing, swamping us. Do I really have to say the obvious, Captain Laurier?¡±


    John nodded. He was about to say that he saw the merit in that, when Abner suddenly shouted, ¡°We need to go back!¡± They all looked at him queerly, and Laurier was astonished to see his quartermaster¡¯s cheeks and forehead turning red, and his brow heavy with sweat. ¡°You¡¯re all talking about this sensibly, like it can ever make any sense at all! It can¡¯t! We¡¯ve aggrieved God or the spirits in these seas!¡±


    ¡°Abner, I will have none of this talk.¡± John found the concept of God almost ridiculous, and the idea that He was forgiving and loving and charitable beyond revolting. He¡¯d seen enough cruelty and injustice in his life to forever negate the idea of a loving Creator. Besides that, belief of such a being weakened men¡¯s minds, made them susceptible to all sorts of superstitious thoughts. ¡°This isn¡¯t God¡¯s work, Abner.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the only explanation! We must go back and return the Spaniards their treasure! We have to go back¡ª¡±


    ¡°Abner, calm yourself,¡± John said. ¡°You are setting a bad example¡ª¡±


    ¡°Beg pardon, Captain, and I know you don¡¯t believe in Him, but this is as clear a sign from the Almighty that we¡¯ve veered too far away from His Scripture.¡± He backed up against a shelf that contained some of Laurier¡¯s books, and some of them fell off. The ship suddenly rocked a little, and the planks all around them creaked. For a moment, it sounded like something was swimming around, just outside, like when whales break the surface. ¡°This is His sign! His Sign to us¡ª¡±


    ¡°Get control of your man, Captain,¡± said Vhingfrith.


    ¡°I have control, Captain, thank you.¡±


    John and Benjamin eyed one another. For a moment, his love for Benjamin¡¯s fury almost caused John to smile again, but that would only worsen matters. So he walked over to his quartermaster. ¡°Abner, listen to me.¡±


    ¡°No¡ªno¡ªno, no, no, no¡ª¡±


    ¡°Abner¡ª¡±


    ¡°We have to change course, sir! We have to return the treasure! Our deeds have been wicked¡ª¡±


    ¡°Abner, listen to me, I will not countenance the change of course, nor the return of any treasure. In any case, the wind does not favour that course. If we turn back we¡¯ll be in irons. Or haven¡¯t you noticed?¡± He gestured to the window. ¡°You felt the wind when you were on deck, Abner. You know. The wind has changed¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just as I was saying,¡± Jacobson said. ¡°It¡¯s the tramontane, and no mistake.¡±


    ¡°I told you, Mr. Jacobson, we are too far south for it,¡± Vhingfrith said. ¡°It has nothing to do with¡ª¡±


    ¡°Then what is it?¡±


    Abner cried, ¡°Damn the wind! The sun¡¯s not coming up! The sun is absent the sky and you¡¯re all talking winds and mistrals and gregales! Where is the bloody fucking sun?!¡±


    ¡°I thought you said you had control of him, Captain,¡± Vhingfrith said.


    John held up a hand to Abner, patting the air, as he might settle a horse. ¡°It¡¯s all right, Abner. It¡¯s all right. You¡¯ve seen a lot in your time at sea, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve witnessed strange things on the waters.¡±


    ¡°Nothing like this, Cap¡¯n,¡± he said, tears falling freely. He looked so pitiful, and John was now concerned for the man¡¯s mind. ¡°Nothing like this.¡± John witnessed one of his oldest companions wither. Abner Crane had been in Port Royal for ages, John had befriended him many long years when playing fanorona at The Golden Goose, but only in the last two years had they sailed together. He had seen Abner weather many storms, had seen him pick up a pitchfork to help fight off an attempted invasion by the Spanish into Port Royal. Now, in the span of a few breaths, Abner reverted to a frightened child left in the woods at night, each sound he heard making him jump, each motion of the ship making him gasp. ¡°Nothing¡­no¡­no¡­nothing like this.¡± His voice was a whisper and everyone else in the room went silent as they watched him. They watched what they themselves would become if they did not maintain their composure.


    We are seeing what will become of us all, Laurier thought. Thoughts of a world without a sun were terrifying enough. It meant death, surely. But Laurier had always felt ready to meet his end when it came. But to end up like Abner Crane¡­there was no dignity in it.


    ¡°The sun¡¯s been doused, Cap¡¯n,¡± Abner went on. ¡°The sun¡­been blown out¡­like a candle¡­like someone puffed up their cheeks,¡± he said, and took in a deep breath, ¡°and blew!¡± Abner¡¯s eyes bulged as he blew out all his air, directly at them.


    The Ladyman noticed his quartermaster¡¯s mangled hand was on his crucifix. He also noticed that Abner was just about to trip over one of the boxes LaCroix had brought down earlier. He did not know what would happen if Abner spilled the contents of that box, nor did he wish to find out.


    But Abner had frozen. No one spoke for a time.


    Jacobson turned his back on all of them and faced the window, shaking his head and mumbling to himself, occasionally laughing.


    ¡°If you believe that, Mr. Crane,¡± Vhingfrith finally said into the silence, ¡°then you manifestly misunderstand how the heavens work.¡±


    At this, Jacobson whirled around. ¡°Then enlighten us, Captain. How do the heavens work?¡±


    Vhingfrith looked at his first mate. In that moment, Laurier understood the two men were true enemies, not just rivals for the captaincy of the Lively, as he had known for some time. There was true antipathy there, evidently of long standing. And so, in that moment, Jacobson became Laurier¡¯s enemy, too.


    I must be ready to kill him, he thought with glacial calmness, as he took another sip of wine.


    Vhingfrith looked away from his first mate and gazed back into one of the rutters on Laurier¡¯s desk. ¡°Your first mistake, Mr. Crane, is the same misapprehension that most people have about the sun; that it is merely a ball of flame. Some have said that it is a raging inferno atop a giant piece of coal, that shall burn forever at God¡¯s will. Learned men no longer believe this.¡±


    Benjamin walked slowly over to a chair and took a seat, flinging out the skirts of his coat to clear the sword hanging from his hip. He crossed his legs and rested his hands in his lap, and took on an erudite demeanor that had first caught John¡¯s attention ages ago. This was how they met in Port Royal, when this beautiful man with his beautiful mind had been in rigorous debate with the Governor¡¯s daughter, both seated on a patio overlooking a garden. In this moment, the years peeled back to reveal that simmering hot day, when John had suddenly realized a stark truth about himself, and about who he was meant to love.


    ¡°The sun is no candle, gentlemen,¡± Benjamin said slowly. As he spoke, he played with the rings around his fingers. ¡°It cannot be, if Newton¡¯s thoughts on it are true. Rather, it is another state of matter entirely, with a power Newton himself could not fully comprehend. Its full constitution and origin remain obscure, no doubt. But I assure you, whatever it is, the sun cannot be doused by any cold wind, nor any splash of water.¡±


    ¡°Then what has happened?¡± Jacobson asked, seething, his tone almost desperately hateful.


    ¡°You all see the stars outside. You see how the constellations have shifted. The Earth is a sphere¡ªwe¡¯ve known this since Eratosthenes¡¯s experiment two thousand years ago, and I doubt very much it has changed¡ªand so she spins through the Universe like a slow-moving top, as reliable in her rotations as any other of Nature¡¯s works. But for the stars to have moved¡­¡± He trailed off. John watched him closely, wondering what his sudden vacant expression was about.


    He has a theory. But he won¡¯t share it. Benjamin was a thoughtful and learned man, who prized the knowledge garnered from books above all superstitions, and John knew he had an incredibly high standard for intelligence, and believed himself to still be in pursuit of it. That beautiful mind¡­


    Benjamin looked at him, as though sensing his thought, and then looked away.


    Jacobson walked back over to the window and stared out. Abner was shaking in the corner, but at least he wasn¡¯t shouting anymore.


    ¡°So,¡± John said carefully. ¡°The plan. You said we ought to make for these cays, careen for a day or two, and if this phenomenon has not passed, we then make for Royal.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Benjamin said.


    Their eyes lingered on one another. John barely noticed Hazard was rocking a little harder than before, just as he scarcely heard the cries of alarm coming from the main deck.


    Abner finally spoke up. ¡°It¡¯s not natural.¡±


    ¡°Of course it isn¡¯t natural, old man,¡± Jacobson scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s hardly natural for the sun to delay sunrise¡ª¡±


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Not that,¡± he said. ¡°Them.¡± He gestured at both Vhingfrith and Laurier.


    John blinked. It took him a moment to register his quartermaster¡¯s cruel eyes, and realize what he was saying. And so, finally. It was what he had been dreading seeing since their friendship began. The day the man¡¯s religion outpaced his love and loyalty to his captain. It happened like that with John; friendships gained, strengthened, and then lost, tossed over the side like a bucket of waste whenever someone found out about his preference towards men. Otherwise good people turned their backs on him, and often after many years of trusting him. He was used to it. Society said he was a deviant, and he had survived many of society¡¯s lashings for it, and though the scars had healed, the lessons made him only the more reluctant to make friends.


    Friendships easily failed these tests. It happened often, yet it never got any easier.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked Jacobson, walking over to Abner.


    ¡°I think you know what I mean, Mr. Jacobson,¡± said the quartermaster. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve suspected your own captain of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Abner, this is indecent of you,¡± John said.


    ¡°Indecent! Me?¡± Abner spat on the floor. ¡°That is a load of shit coming from¡ª¡±


    ¡°Abner!¡±


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s all right, Captain,¡± said Vhingfrith, standing up smoothly, his hands out invitationally. ¡°Pray, let the man speak his mind.¡±


    Abner shrank from the man. His mouth formed in a moue of distaste. It was evident to anyone watching he had nothing but the greatest contempt for Vhingfrith. His words only confirmed it. ¡°My stomach turns,¡± he hissed, and made the sign of the cross in the air. ¡°It turns to look at you!¡± He looked over at John. ¡°Not only do you consort with a man in an indecent way¡ªways you¡¯ve had me punish other men for performing¡ªyou do so with a man who¡¯s half savage!¡± He glared daggers back at Vhingfrith. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t even be permitted ownership of anything! How can you be granted a ship when¡ª¡±


    ¡°I was baptized, sir,¡± Vhingfrith said calmly, shrugging. ¡°Baptized and then allowed to take an oath. By English law that gives me¡ª¡±


    ¡°Baptized!¡± He spat the word from his mouth like it was poison.


    ¡°Indeed, yes, baptized.¡±


    ¡°And you think that makes you any Englishman¡¯s equal?¡±


    ¡°In England, sir, where they still follow laws, it does suffice. It has all the merits of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where they still follow laws?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You said, ¡®where they still follow laws.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I did.¡±


    ¡°And so, you show your true colours. You suggest a higher station for yourself, Captain. As privateers, you reckon yourselves above us! You give yourself airs! Airs you have not earned or even¡ª¡±


    ¡°I give myself no airs, Mr. Crane.¡±


    ¡°The fuck you say!¡±


    ¡°Mr. Crane¡ª¡±


    ¡°You have laws and codes, eh? Well, so do we! Our own code, Captain, and it says¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware of the pirate code¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªit says when two men have umbrage ¡¯tween themselves, they may settle it on shore! With pistols and swords!¡±


    ¡°Abner!¡± shouted Laurier, surging forth. ¡°You overstep your bounds. And you grieve me, old friend. You grieve me deeply. And you would be mad to cross swords with anyone, half-cripple that you are.¡±


    Yet again, Vhingfrith halted John with a raised hand. ¡°Mr. Crane, I will forgive your language and dismiss it as the strain from the exigencies of our current predicament, but I will ask that you henceforth tame your tongue¡ª¡±


    ¡°God judges you!¡± Abner cried. ¡°Both of you! And we are caught in your judgment by proximity. The Hellmouth has opened wide, and we sailed into it because of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Laurier said, stepping between them. He was not sure they had noticed, or had meant to do it, but each man had taken one step closer to the other. Laurier¡¯s cabin suddenly felt very small. Smaller, still, when he noticed that Jacobson had so far done nothing to defend his captain. Even if they be enemies, both honour and the laws of the sea demand that he ought to defend the one occupying his ship¡¯s captaincy.


    That was when Laurier realized the true volatility of this scene. They were all going to kill each other. Both crews. They would fight each other, blaming one another for this predicament, and for a dozen different reasons, ranging from moral stances to superstitious ones. They would fight and kill one another until only a handful remained to sail the two ships on.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± he said again. ¡°Let us get some air.¡±


    But no one moved. Laurier was suddenly glad he had both a pistol and a sword strapped to him. He had a feeling if Abner, his oldest friend on this ship, had truly abandoned him, then once he attacked Benjamin, the Lively¡¯s own first mate would let it happen. Jacobson would pray that Abner conveniently removed the half-Negro for him.


    And then I¡¯ll have to kill them both.


    Suddenly, there came cries from the deck above them. The note of alarm in those cries could not be missed, and all at once every man was broken from his spell. Laurier, Vhingfrith, and Jacobson all rushed from the room to the main deck, leaving Abner fuming where he stood, clutching his crucifix.


    Upon the main deck, they faced the night sky again. Laurier had hoped the shouting was due to the sun returning, but instead it marked only the start of more chaos. Two men were holding a third man back against a stack of barrels. It was Jenkins and Oliver, keeping Isaacson held back from Dobbs, who himself was being protected by a wall of Hazard¡¯s other men, while a crowd had gathered around them from both crews. Anne had a dagger drawn and aimed at the Lively¡¯s crew, who had crossed over the planks and were shouting at some of the Hazard¡¯s people. There was shoving, and someone from the Lively had drawn a sword.


    So far, John saw no blood. ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± he boomed.


    Vhingfrith was right beside him, putting his chest against those of his own men and bellowing in their faces to get back to the Lively.


    ¡°Isaacson said you was to blame, sir,¡± Jenkins claimed. He seemed nearly out of breath, like the fighting had been going on a while. ¡°Young Dobbs there only wanted to defend your honour, but when they started fightin¡¯ the Lively¡¯s men rushed across and egged it on, and, well¡­¡±


    ¡°All of this over an insult, Mr. Dobbs?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not all it¡¯s about, sir,¡± said Oliver.


    ¡°Then what else?¡±


    ¡°The moon, sir!¡± shouted someone. It was Dobbs. John spun around to look at the boy, whose nose was bloody and his cheeks streaked by tears. He pointed to the sky. ¡°The moon!¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s split in twain, Captain! Look!¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­God,¡± whispered Abner, who now came slowly up the ladder. He had a smile on his face, but it was a species of smile John had never seen before. It was haunted, like how he imagined a man would look when he saw his dead mother coming down from the heavens to tell him everything was going to be all right. He dropped to his knees and wept. ¡°God in Heaven¡­be merciful! Your Kingdom is shattered and we are to blame!¡±


    ¡°Abner, I¡¯ll say this only once more. Get hold of yourself.¡±


    ¡°Captain Laurier,¡± said Benjamin. John looked at him, and saw him gazing at the far horizon. His face was lit, and that cat¡¯s-eye of his glimmered brilliantly. More brilliant than ever before.


    That was when John noticed the night was unusually bright. There was an extra glow, so bright it illuminated every face without need of a lamp. John looked at all their faces, and felt Hazard swaying unnaturally beneath his feet. What is causing that? The strange motion was finally noted by him consciously.


    When he finally turned and looked at the moon, John thought he was seeing things. Like when Kepler had roused him two hours ago to tell him the sun was late, he felt this was some dream, and he experienced an inward, vertiginous lurch. Now he gawked with the others at a pair of moons. A pair of moons. One half as big as the other and with a pinkish hue, just now emerging from behind the moon they had all known forever.


    For once, the Ladyman could find no humour in the moment.


    ____


    It was about forty years ago that Isaac Newton declared his discovery that the tides were long-period waves that moved through the seas in response to forces exerted by the moon. Vhingfrith tried explaining this, first to his men, then to Hazard¡¯s. But soon he gave up. He could have told them that much, that the reason the waters around them were suddenly choppier was because of a manifestation brought on by the second moon. This he could have told them. He could also expound on the belief that the sun¡¯s own refracted light was what gave the moon its light, and that da Vinci himself (a name most of them had never heard) had hypothesized on this, so if the moon was still alight, the sun must still exist somewhere, on the other side of the planet. All this he could have told them, if they would only listen.


    What he could not tell them was why there were now two moons in the sky and still no sun.


    ¡°Whatever¡¯s happening here, must be happening on land, as well,¡± said Laurier to him at one point. The Ladyman had pulled Benjamin off to one side so they could converse together. They both stood, nearly forgotten, beside half a dozen African slaves that had been freed from the Nuestra, all of whom were now on their knees and muttering something. Akil, their leader, began a song in low, low tones, and the others joined in. Okoa, Laurier¡¯s one-legged African lineman, explained that it was a tribal song about rejoicing in the sun¡¯s rays. They were trying to call the sun back.


    Vhingfrith looked at all these black-skinned men and saw how they looked back at him. Their ways were alien to him, and his appearance must surely strike them as odd, for more than one reason. But he did recall a similar song that his mother used to sing to him when he was a small boy, the tone was almost exactly the same and she sang it at every sunrise. But while Vhingfrith¡¯s father had made sure he could read, write and speak many different European languages, he put no emphasis on African languages, and Benjamin¡¯s mother made no effort to teach him.


    The result was he always felt like a foreigner, no matter where on Earth he stood. The two moons had, at the very least, made every other man feel the same way as he. Like we are all outsiders now.


    ¡°We may as well imagine the chaos we are seeing here is going to be happening in every city, in every port,¡± Laurier was saying.


    Benjamin had been trying to forget John was there. He had not been this close and this alone with Captain Laurier in years. It felt odd, like one of them ought to say something about it, but Benjamin wished to avoid the topic altogether.


    ¡°Yes, I know,¡± Vhingfrith said, his eyes set on those two moons, both gibbous, both brilliant and undeniably there. Many things floated through his mind. Every lecture his father had ever given him about celestial navigation and odd goings-on concerning the heavens. He marshalled all his mental powers to try and recall a single incident his father had ever described that could explain something like this. None leapt to mind. What is going on? God in Heaven, what is going on?


    Vhingfrith had a theory, but without more information, he could not solidify that theory, and so he kept it to himself and got to the work of executing his plan. ¡°This is what we will do.¡±


    Laurier smiled at him. ¡°Oh, excellent! I was hoping you would say that.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Whenever you say, ¡®This is what we will do,¡¯ it means you have a plan. Usually a good one. I recall that much from our long friendship.¡±


    Vhingfrith would prefer to forget their ¡°friendship,¡± but he could not deny, in the moment, that it cheered him to have someone calling him friend. It also could not be denied¡ªthough he tried to mollify this part of his mind¡ªthat it heartened him just to see John¡¯s smile. He¡¯d missed it. In fact, he feared how much he¡¯d missed it. ¡°Perhaps you are right,¡± Benjamin shrugged. ¡°In any case, you and I will both go over and give our most convincing display of uniformity. We tell each of these men that there has been a mistake, that you and I both found entries in our rutters from captains that have passed through this region before, and that they all report a random anomaly where, upon one night, pockets of gas rose up from the sea and put their crews to sleep. That is all that happened. Am I clear? We all fell asleep for one day, and we merely woke up the following night. Follow?¡±


    John winced, and shuffled uncertainly. ¡°Do you think that will work?¡±


    ¡°It must.¡±


    ¡°So then, today¡¯s date is not the twenty-ninth of August, but in fact the thirtieth of August?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that is exactly what we tell them.¡±


    ¡°And¡­we slept. Pockets of gas, you say. A gas that puts men to sleep for a whole day.¡± Laurier almost laughed. ¡°Where did you come up with that?¡±


    ¡°I happen to know of an event in India where something similar happened. A volcano erupted some two hundred years ago, somewhere in the Andaman Islands, but a week before the eruption, people reported cracks in the earth where sulfur-smelling fumes blanketed an entire village. Most of the people died, some of them only slept a day or two.¡±


    Laurier smiled at him again, and Benjamin could not bear it, he looked away. ¡°Very clever as always, Ben¡ªCaptain. But what will we do when the sun does not rise in the next few hours?¡±


    ¡°We will head sou¡¯sou¡¯west, and careen in a cay closer to here, taking advantage of this wind change. It should only take us three hours to get there, perhaps four. I am not sure it is safe there, it may be that there are natives on it, some of the Island Caribs.¡± John gave him a look. Island Caribs were natives that could sometimes be violent to outsiders. Some were cannibals. ¡°I know your reservations, and I share them,¡± Benjamin said. ¡°But right now, I think we need to get on land. So, make your course change, and follow behind Lively. If you experience mutiny or any other distress along the way, or if you just¡­find yourself in danger, place a lantern at the fo¡¯c¡¯s¡¯le. I¡¯ll keep an eye out.¡±


    A bead of sweat, pushed from his pores by worry, despite the growing cold wind, slid down his forehead, and before Benjamin could stop him, John had reached up to wipe it away. John¡¯s smile might have grown wider, his blue-painted lips framing his teeth. It would look ridiculous on anyone else. But on him¡­


    ¡°You¡¯re worried about my safety?¡±


    ¡°Do not flatter yourself, Captain,¡± Benjamin said, straightening his shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m merely worried about mutiny. A mutiny on one ship will likely give cause to embolden a mutiny on the other. That is all.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± John said. ¡°And the two moons? The distortion of the stars? How do we explain those to the men?¡±


    ¡°The gas explains it credibly enough. Gas pockets are known to create illusions. It only appears there are two moons. That is what we tell them. Understood? The lie must buy us enough time to reach the cays. We need only make it to land,¡± Benjamin urged.


    ¡°And from there?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Once we¡¯re on land. What do we do?¡±


    ¡°You know my mind, John, you know I wait to see the mood of the men before I make decisions about such things. I must¡ªwhy are you looking at me like that?¡±


    The Ladyman smiled as wide as ever. ¡°John?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You called me John.¡±


    ¡°Did I?¡± Benjamin shrugged, aggravated with the damnable man. ¡°So I did. A mistake, I assure you. It won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    Laurier¡¯s smile evaporated. ¡°If we reach land, you know what must happen.¡±


    ¡°I will not entertain it, J¡ªCaptain Laurier. I will not. These are still my men, and they swore an oath to me, and I to them.¡±


    ¡°You know what must happen,¡± Laurier repeated.


    ¡°They took an oath¡ª¡±


    ¡°An oath they have been waiting to toss overboard ever since they had to lower themselves to serve under you, an oath they will forget all about and take your ship because no Admiralty Court in Port Royal will care about a dead Negro captain¡ª¡±


    ¡°Damnable man!¡± he hissed, turning his back to the crew so none of them could see his frustration. ¡°Do not put me in this position!¡±


    ¡°What position?¡±


    ¡°You and your clever schemes.¡±


    ¡°Clever? Schemes? You do me more credit, sir, than I deserve¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do not play coy! You know what you¡¯re doing! You¡¯re letting me make the plan and then drawing a conclusion about what must be done by the end of its success. Just as always. Worse, you seem to be looking for a reason to¡ª¡± He chose his words carefully. ¡°To be rid of all these men.¡±


    ¡°They are all rid of me, sooner or later. And you the same. I¡¯m used to it¡±


    Vhingfrith snorted. ¡°I had heard your reputation had grown darker. ¡®A man who left his last crew marooned,¡¯ they say in Royal. I did not believe it before, but now you make me wonder.¡±


    ¡°I am merely making a statement of fact.¡±


    ¡°Hog¡¯s wallow! You aver as you always have, and are engaged in one of Man¡¯s oldest exercises in moral philosophy.¡±


    ¡°Which is?¡±


    ¡°The search for moral justification for selfishness,¡± he said. ¡°And none other. It has always been your argument, upon my word. Fuck everybody else and run.¡±


    ¡°I never did that with you. You, however, were only too glad to run from me.¡±


    Vhingfrith wanted to slap him. Now was not the time to revisit any of this.


    John looked him in the eye. ¡°I once told you that men like you and I have limitations in this world,¡± he said softly. ¡°Those limitations come at a cost. I am loyal to only one other person in these seas.¡±


    ¡°And who is that?¡±


    John reached out, as if to touch the locket around Benjamin¡¯s neck, but stopped himself. ¡°I see you kept it. I¡¯ve kept mine, as well.¡±


    Benjamin fumed a moment before calming himself. John Laurier had always been capable of rattling his cage, but he would not succumb to his games this time. ¡°Don¡¯t change the subject. I am loyal to these men. Most of them¡­they will remember their oaths.¡±


    John sighed. ¡°You believe that?¡± he said, skeptically.


    ¡°I know it.¡±


    The Ladyman nodded as though he understood.


    But it was clear to Benjamin that John was ready to do whatever it took to survive this madness. If all the crewmen went mad, he would kill them all, or maroon them. If a few kept their heads and remained loyal, he would spare them. It was clear John Laurier had not changed. The only question was, once they reached shore, would he act on his murderous instincts?


    ¡°What about these moons?¡± John said.


    ¡°What about them? I¡¯ve already told you, we tell the men they are illusions cast by¡ª¡±


    ¡°Pockets of gas, yes.¡± John glanced up at them. ¡°You say the moons control the tides, and that is the reason for these choppy waters. My question, Captain Vhingfrith, is what will the tides look like on the islands? Will the beaches still be there? Is careening even possible now?¡±


    Vhingfrith looked back at his men, some of them still arguing. And Hazard¡¯s men were shouting at Lively¡¯s. The mannish-looking woman, Anne Bonny, stood saying nothing while four of Lively¡¯s men stared daggers at her, and one of them was demanding to see her breasts. Jacobson was corralling some of the men back over to the Lively, but some were arguing with him. It was becoming chaotic. ¡°I suppose,¡± he sighed, ¡°we will figure that out once we come to it. Because if we cannot drop anchor somewhere and get to shore, I may soon be dead. I may as well admit there is some merit in your concerns.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t let that happen,¡± John said. ¡°They will have to go through me first, and there is not a man among them that can do it.¡±


    Benjamin looked at him. ¡°There¡¯s Jacobson.¡±


    John smirked. ¡°On his best day he couldn¡¯t stop me. Besides, the oaf is injured.¡±


    He still boasts like a lion. It gave Benjamin a thrill to feel such fellowship. But it also gave him something more. Benjamin walked away without looking at John. If he looked back, he would have to revisit that shadowy place in his mind where his father forbade him to ever visit again.


    John is a good man, deep down, he had said, and his love for you can be a valuable asset at times. But you cannot indulge it the way you want. If you do that, baptism or no, you will have given every Englishman and pirate in these seas the excuse they¡¯ve been looking for to stop seeing you as human.


    Cherish your love for him. But abandon all thoughts of ever being with him.


    And so he had. For his own safety and John¡¯s.


    Benjamin and John enacted their plan, and after nearly half an hour of explaining¡ªmost of which Benjamin did on his own, elaborating on some of the science behind the random pockets of sulfuric gas and their inoculative powers on men¡ªthey were finally able to mollify and separate their crews and get back to work. Before he crossed the plank, though, Vhingfrith did toss one more worried look back at Laurier, who moved about with a stern gaze, resplendent in his feminine garb and tricorne hat, commanding men with grave faces. John Laurier had never more earned the cognomen of Ladyman than now, with his skirt snapping in a howling wind, and moving with the grace of a cat, his black coat framing his wide shoulders. Benjamin could not but admire the astonishing figure, so masculine and confident in stature, yet soft and delicate.


    Vhingfrith did not see any sign of the harsh quartermaster, Abner, and he found himself worrying for John.


    Then he turned and left the Hazard.


    ¡°At the waist!¡± he shouted as he walked the plank back across. ¡°Ship capstan bars! Stand by to weigh anchor! Boatswain¡¯s party, ready to let fly! Mr. Dawson, how does she sit?¡± he said, jogging up the steps to the quarterdeck, from where one received a commanding view of the new night sky and its sister moons.


    ¡°Waters are awfully choppy, sir,¡± the helmsman said. His face, so easy to see in the double moonlight, appeared shaken but it was clear he was made of somewhat sterner stuff than the rest of the lads. The rum on his breath might also have something to do with his courage. ¡°But she¡¯s resting easy enough.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. I¡¯ve got a course change for you.¡± After describing their new southwesterly course, Vhingfrith checked his timepiece. It was almost nine o¡¯clock in the morning. Nine o¡¯clock and no sunrise. ¡°On deck there!¡± he shouted to a few stragglers coming back from the Hazard. ¡°On deck there! Make ready for course change! Stand by tacks and braces!¡±


    As Lively set sail, Benjamin looked out from the stern, to where Hazard was falling slightly behind. He closed his right eye and peered through the darkness. The Hazard¡¯s crew performed lively enough, but he also saw a few seamen resting at her rails, leaning over the side, doing nothing, languid from fear and anxiety. He looked across his own deck and found two or three crewmen doing the same.


    Vhingfrith looked for Jacobson, and found him climbing down from the mainmast. He, Galbraith and Collins were all conferring about something. Once or twice, he caught them casting a glance in his direction. They probably didn¡¯t think Vhingfrith could see them in the darkness, but they forgot his cat¡¯s-eye made them out clearly enough. McCullough came up from below carrying spare timber, and Gibbons followed quickly with a bucket of treenails to drive them into place. Vhingfrith also caught sight of Hoyt and Gordon Burr, both of them pulling rope taut across the deck and securing it. When they were done, Hoyt whispered something to Gordon, and they went below. Returning to the helm, Vhingfrith looked across the black water. He suddenly felt friendless.


    And cold.


    The wind was indeed chill, almost like the tramontane Jacobson believed it to be. It whispered to him of Burr¡¯s death, of his action against the Nuestra, of his past deeds, of that shadowy place where he and Laurier met all those years ago¡ª


    Vhingfrith shook himself. He would not let his mind go there. Yet he glanced back at Hazard to make sure he still had a friend. The pirate vessel was now a comfort. A small one, to be sure, but a comfort.


    ¡°Captain?¡± said Dawson, turning the wheel half a degree. ¡°Is it true what you said? The story you told? Did we really just sleep a whole day and wake up the next night?¡±


    ¡°I do believe that is what happened, Mr. Dawson.¡±


    Dawson let out a sigh he had likely been holding for hours. ¡°That¡¯s good. That¡¯s good. I thought we had all¡­I don¡¯t know what I thought, sir. Being honest, I just don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Luff and touch her, Mr. Dawson,¡± Benjamin said, watching how near they were able to get Lively to the wind. He gazed at the two moons straight ahead. ¡°Steady on.¡± He spoke no more of it, knowing only his confidence and coolness would convince Lively¡¯s crew of his lie. Which meant he had to stick to it, and be as steady with his nerves as a schooner in calm waters.


    The wind seemed to grow colder. Where is the sun?


    Vhingfrith dipped belowdecks, to check on Scarecrow and his patients. Tyndall was attending eight badly injured men, all of them suffering from thrusts by Spanish swords. Two of them were not likely to make it. Looking down at their sweating faces and grievous wounds, and listening to their delirious rantings to long-dead relatives, Vhingfrith wondered if these men were in fact being spared a fate more grim than death.


    ¡°Close your eyes,¡± he whispered to each of them. ¡°And open them in a place where the sun still shines.¡±


    One of them slipped free of his mortal coil while holding the captain¡¯s hand, and Benjamin sat beside the soulless corpse for a few moments, looking into those glazed eyes, trying to imagine what they were seeing. And then he closed them and gave Scarecrow the order to send the lad into the water.


    Benjamin walked the decks of his brig, checking the bilge, inspecting the cargo, all while watching the faces of his crew. In the darker places, where there were no lanterns, he was glad of his cat¡¯s-eye, glad that he could see the faces of those men around him. They knew that he could see them in the dark. Perhaps that would stave off an ambush. A little less than sixty men were left aboard Lively, and he was confident more than half would be glad of his death.


    And he went to visit the slaves. Eight Africans taken from the Nuestra. John Laurier had taken six slaves aboard the Hazard, but whereas the Ladyman had offered them all to become crew, the Devil¡¯s Son had made no such compact. None of the Africans spoke English, and Lively had no one to translate the African tongue, therefore these men sat here, in the hold, chained together but not bolted to the floor or walls. They were fed and given fresh clothes, but they all understood the truth. They were still slaves, and likely to be sold rather than liberated. Benjamin looked upon each of their faces, and saw how they beheld him as a wicked creature, something not African and not English. Benjamin had no friends here. None at all. The Africans just stared at him from their dark corner and wondered what he would do next. He left them alone, surely to plot and scheme in secret.


    Let them.


    When he returned to the quarterdeck and stood next to Dawson at the helm, Vhingfrith clasped his hands behind his back commandingly and looked ready for another adventure. He kept gazing at the new, pink-hued moon. Then at the stars. He wondered how many others had started to notice that the stars were not just distorted, but they were moving more slowly through the night sky. Vhingfrith himself had been quietly wishing the second moon was an illusion, but if Newton was right, then the slow-moving stars only confirmed it was real.


    It also enhanced his theory, which he did not even want to utter into his own mind. Not yet.


    And now, for the first time, a needle of ice threaded through his heart. Fear, both acidic and immediate, poured into his belly, just gazing into the unknown horror of a foreign cosmos.


    Sometimes that is all it takes to change a man¡¯s mind, and make him see reality. For Ben knew in that moment that if he were this afraid, with feelings of severe doubt encroaching on his good sense, then the milquetoast minds and fearful brutes that he had summoned with coin and lashed together with promises of riches and threats of violence would soon fail. His cat¡¯s-eye caught the sideways glances of crewman, the mistrustful looks, the occasional weeping.


    John was right. God damn him, he was right. We cannot travel with these men for long.


    ¡°Mr. Dawson?¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°I am going to tell you something, because I trust you and few others to keep within my confidence.¡± He looked the helmsman in the eye. ¡°There is going to be a mutiny, and if we are to keep this ship moving east to Royal, you are going to need to do exactly as I say.¡±


    Dawson remained stoic.


    They sailed on into the night, with Ben outlining the plan.

 Chapter 8: The Frenchman

    labour ¨C A vessel is said ¡°to labour¡± when she rolls or pitches heavily.


    Mark these words,


    wrote Remy LaCroix into his journal,


    that on this day, 29<sup>th</sup> of August, 1716, the sun did not rise. And never shall again. The captain says today is the 30<sup>th</sup>, that we all merely slept through a day. That is a lie. I can see through it. Today is not the 30<sup>th</sup>, it is the 29<sup>th</sup>, and the sun shall never rise again.


    The words seemed true the moment he wrote them, and truer every time he reread them. But for the single lantern LaCroix had been permitted to light, the small corner of the forecastle that was his lay mostly in shadow. The area was thick with spare rope, coiled and wrapped around the rafters. Like a spider in his web, LaCroix rested in his hammock and swayed more heavily than normal. There was no storm, and yet Hazard felt like she might be stepping into another squall. Her timbers creaked, and the wind crept its way lightly down the ladder, with footsteps as light as a ghost¡¯s, and made him shiver.


    Only a few men hung in their hammocks around him. None of them slept, but they all lay there trying.


    The ship leaned heavily side to side. The only other noise besides the boards creaking was the scribbling of his pen. The inkbottle was squeezed between his knees, and the parchment rested in his lap. LaCroix had never learned to read or write in his native tongue, he had come to the Bahamas at fourteen, and had learned to speak and write in English, though not superbly, along with many other skills that were afforded him by a lucky acquaintance with an English inventor named Bennett. Bennett had been an agent for privateers in Jamaica, but after dabbling in marketing for pirates, he had been sent to Marshallsea Prison, where he sat for years, forgotten, until he died of the yellow jack fever.


    That had left LaCroix orphaned. But he was used to the sensation.


    Remy LaCroix had been a poor student in France, but Bennett¡¯s attentions had allowed him to blossom into an apt pupil while in the Caribbean. The old man had been patient with the boy, uncovering his curiosity in the natural world and guiding it to his own ends. Bennett¡¯s motives were not wholly pure; he taught Remy metallurgy and alchemy so that he could ascertain the difference between true gold coins and false ones; he taught Remy all about measurements so that he could help weigh payments on scales, to ensure pirates were not cheating Bennett¡¯s many businesses; he taught him carpentry to help with repairs around his home; and he taught LaCroix writing and language and figures so that he could maintain the account-books. LaCroix¡¯s education was for Bennett¡¯s sake, not LaCroix¡¯s.


    Bennett had taken LaCroix in when both his parents (merchants with interests in the Caribbean slave trade) had died of plague aboard the Erasmus. And while he conducted business with pirates himself, Bennett forbade Remy of entering into any enterprise with them.


    What would he think of his student now, residing aboard the Hazard, his teachings being put to the Ladyman¡¯s purpose?


    This ship labours. She has always felt prepared for anything, even when she is battered and in need of repair. Water moves around her smoothly, and she often feels eager for the open water. But now, even in Kepler¡¯s capable hands, our ship labours.


    Hazard has a soul. It seems as if she is holding her breath. There is a great precipice before her, before all of us, as I have never sensed before. Will she bravely take that plunge? I have never sailed into a nightmare, but surely this is what we are doing. I feel it now. A miasmic cloud is before me, obscuring everything. I know that I can now walk up onto the quarterdeck and I will recognize nothing I see. Not the clouds, not the stars, not even the waters or the moons.


    Moons.


    It feels strange even writing it.


    But we are not in any Hellmouth, Abner and some others are stupid for believing so. I do not know what this phenomenon is, but I know it has a reason, and a solution.


    His pen hovered above the parchment a moment. Then he wrote,


    We must survive long enough to find the solution. If no solution soon, then we die.


    LaCroix tapped the parchment with his thumb, thinking. He heard scraping underneath his hammock. He peered down and found Rory playing with some small bit of frayed rope he had found. The old brown cat seemed to recognize he had been spotted, and without looking up, he froze. Then, all at once, he darted into the shadows.


    LaCroix rolled his parchment and closed the top on his inkbottle, and replaced them both in his oilskin sack. He eased himself out of his hammock and tiptoed across the swaying deck. A few of the men had now gone to sleep. He heard them begin to snore. It seemed some were relieved to hear Captain Vhingfrith¡¯s lie, and they were easing into their comforts.


    But the fact that they sleep only confirms the lie, LaCroix thought. According to the Lively¡¯s captain, they had all slept an entire day, and he claimed that was the source of all their confusions, but LaCroix knew that was not true. If it were so, no man would now be able to sleep, for they would have had plenty. If we slept an entire day, then why do we all feel so tired? Also, why aren¡¯t some of the men¡¯s injuries scabbed over yet? Seems a day would be long enough for a bleeding wound to scab.


    It was simple logic, the same sort that had told him to flee Bennett¡¯s house the night the king¡¯s militia came for him and dragged he and his mistress out of his bed. Remy had heard the news from Madagascar, of pirates being rounded up from a pirate settlement there and hauled over to Port Royal to be hanged. He had recognized some of their names from Bennett¡¯s old account-books, which Remy had helped to write. Even after warning Bennett, LaCroix had been shocked to see the old man confident in his invincibility. They¡¯d never lay a hand on me, he¡¯d said. I¡¯m too important to the militia¡¯s operations. They need me as much as the pirates do.


    As LaCroix went in search of Rory, he wondered what it had been like for Bennett when he died, alone in his cell, having not had any visitors for the two long years it took him to die. They said he spoke to no one but the guards, for he was tossed into a lower dungeon and practically forgotten. The tribunals had never gotten around to hearing his case and he rotted in his cell. LaCroix wondered what his mentor would have made of the sun¡¯s disappearance.


    Probably, he thought, stepping up onto the main deck, he would have taken a pistol and killed himself. He always was a proponent of suicide, when all seems lost. But perhaps not. After all, he lasted two years in Marshallsea, and in that time a man of his ingenuity ought to have conjured up a way of killing himself.


    The two moons had further separated; the smaller, pinkish one, which was far more distant, was creeping lower on the horizon. LaCroix remembered watching it emerge from behind the white moon only two hours ago, as though the white moon was hatching it. The sense of horror he¡¯d felt then had not lessened. Something evil was afoot. Perhaps the Africans had brought some dark forces with them, or maybe some Judas among their crew had performed some black magic, someone like Anne Bonny who covered her breasts in her own blood before every¡ª


    LaCroix heard low voices whispering. He walked past the Scotsman, currently resecuring rope on a bundle of barrels that had gotten loose as the ship heeled from side to side. He followed the whispering voices to the mainmast, where six men stood listening to Abner Crane. ¡°¡ªthe Hellmouth is not Hell itself, I tell you! It is possible to leave,¡± the quartermaster said. ¡°Only once we are down its gullet are we truly inside, at the point of no return. But if we renounce our fellowship of the Ladyman now, and beg God for forgiveness¡ª¡± Abner stopped talking once he saw the Frenchman. ¡°Bless you, lads,¡± he said. And, like a priest, he made the sign of the cross for them, and they mimicked him. ¡°Get back to work.¡±


    After the men had dispersed, LaCroix said, ¡°Now you like my idea of turning back around and sailing out of here?¡±


    The old man limped past him, mumbling, ¡°We cannot merely sail out, not like that.¡±


    ¡°Then what must we do, monsieur?¡± LaCroix caught his arm. ¡°You don¡¯t believe we slept a whole day away, either, do you?¡±


    The quartermaster said nothing more, he shook off Remy¡¯s hand and walked aft, joining Kepler at the wheel.


    LaCroix watched him go, then looked up at the sky, and shivered. The wind was a blade of ice, cutting deeply. That was abnormal for the Caribbean. He looked around for Rory for a bit, and when he couldn¡¯t find the cat, he returned to his hammock and tried to sleep. He heard the dinging of the bell. Twelve peals. It ought to be noon at this moment.


    Down in the galley, someone started playing a mournful fiddle. LaCroix felt the ship rocking him. He thought of Eze, the home he barely remembered on the French Riviera. He wondered what his life would have been like had his father never inherited his grandfather¡¯s money and shipping business, and uprooted them all to move. Remy wondered where he would be right now, having never met Samuel Bennett or the people of the Bahamas. Married? Children? A whole family? Oui, that wouldn¡¯t be so bad.


    He heard someone weeping.


    Someone else was mumbling prayers to himself.


    Someone else close by was whispering, ¡°Abner says it¡¯s so. Says it¡¯s just a matter o¡¯ renouncin¡¯ our pledge of loyalty. We¡¯re in the Hellmouth, lads, make no mistake, and the Ladyman led us here.¡±


    LaCroix¡¯s eyes were still shut. He feigned snoring and slowly opened one eye and turned his head. The man speaking was Isaacson, and he had an audience of seven other men around him, all standing in rapt attention. LaCroix had never liked Isaacson, the man was said to be a rapist, and rumour had it he had tried to bugger Dobbs. The poor boy had barely survived thanks to Jenkins and Tomlinson, that¡¯s what the rumour said. Once, while they were drinking late at night, LaCroix had overheard Isaacson joke about a time he and his fellow English redcoats had raped a small girl. The Frenchman had decided that if he ever got Isaacson alone, with no witnesses, he would kill him. It would not be difficult, for Isaacson was thin and weak and practically friendless, and LaCroix was sometimes keen on killing men who annoyed him, it was a good sport to pass the time.


    Some of their words were lost as the ship moaned and water lapped against her hull.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    A conspiracy was alive inside the walls of Hazard. LaCroix had never experienced a mutiny before, but he believed that was what he was witnessing now. Abner¡¯s words, Isaacson¡¯s, the men¡¯s, and the looks in their faces all told the story.


    He waited for the men to stop talking and then got out of his hammock again to go for a walk. He did not go directly to the captain¡¯s quarters, for that might look too suspicious. Standing on the main deck, he looked around for Abner, and saw him speaking to young Dobbs at the bowsprit.


    Fuck.


    The combined light of two moons shone across the sea and made the choppy waves glow. Hazard laboured, but she was a tenacious old vessel, spat out from the shipbuilders in Massachusetts Colony fifteen years ago and passing through the hands of two or three privateers before being taken a prize by the Ladyman. The reason Captain Laurier had wanted her was plain to anyone that looked hard enough. Her lines were uncommonly straight and rigid, her displacement and balance were perfectly in sync. One need only stand on her quarterdeck a few moments before they got the sensation of floating, as though she had a special relationship with gravity. Hazard was a cunning vessel, somehow built just right. The ocean seemed to roll underneath her as she clawed for the horizon. Somehow, despite being built ostensibly no different than any other vessel of her kind, Hazard penetrated the waves like no other sloop-of-war.


    Some ships were like that, with a sort of mind of their own. LaCroix knew from experience¡ªin the years after Bennett¡¯s death, he¡¯d been a shipwright¡¯s apprentice. He was made a master builder just before the Ladyman found him and offered him three shares of a prize to be Hazard¡¯s new head carpenter. Captain Laurier¡¯s reputation was well known then, and LaCroix had never been one to settle in one place for too long, so he left port and sailed. The captain may be as cunning as a devil, but LaCroix was an avowed nonbeliever, and could not countenance the idea that Laurier was a demon, or a monster, nor could he believe that they were all bound for Hell.


    Well, at least, not in this way, he thought, looking at the two moons.


    A cloudless sky was above him, and the black dome of the world gazed down at him through a million pinpoints of light. LaCroix was no master of the stars, celestial navigation was Kepler¡¯s realm, but Bennett had taught him enough to pick the constellations out of that star-strewn blackness and he knew more was wrong here than some pockets of gas making men sleepy.


    He walked belowdecks. Unable to sleep or rest, he made his way down the companionway and paused in the galley. There lay Stephens, who had already been soon for death because of some malady or other, now grievously injured during the attack on the nao. The galley was being used for he and five other injured men. Cedar, Hazard¡¯s only serviceable surgeon, sat in a corner monitoring the men, sipping at rum and reading a book by candlelight. The surgeon, in fact, had known little about surgery, let alone physic. But he had once been some kind of doctor that helped horses deliver their foals when pregnancy was difficult, and the Ladyman thought that was close enough to take him on as ship¡¯s surgeon, and trust that he would learn on the job.


    ¡°When will he pass?¡± asked LaCroix.


    Cedar looked up from his book with a start. It was then LaCroix noticed the book was a tattered Bible. ¡°I assess soon,¡± he said. The man had a mop of grey hair, done up in braids, like his shaggy beard. He was sweating profusely. ¡°Thank God he did not live to see this. Hopefully he walks with Saint Peter now.¡±


    ¡°Was he ever baptized?¡±


    Cedar wiped his brow. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Owens says no.¡±


    ¡°Then he isn¡¯t walking with Saint Peter.¡±


    The surgeon winced at the cruel statement and turned back to his Bible. ¡°The stars are so beautiful, and so seemingly eternal, like the sun. And where should we be without them?¡±


    ¡°Without the stars?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Have you not looked outside, monsieur? The stars are still out there.¡±


    ¡°But for how long? If the sun can disappear, Mr. LaCroix, what makes you think the stars have any more permanence?¡± He shivered visibly. ¡°They will vanish soon, mark me. As we go deeper¡­¡± He trailed off.


    LaCroix looked down at Stephens, who began mumbling to himself. He did not need to ask what Cedar meant by going deeper. He means the Hellmouth. God, Abner¡¯s words seep in everywhere.


    Cedar confirmed this by asking, in a solemn whisper, ¡°Have you heard what Abner¡¯s been saying?¡±


    LaCroix sighed and leaned against a bulkhead nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. ¡°Abner Crane says many things, most of which do not make sense to me.¡±


    ¡°He says we must renounce the captain if we want out of this.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    LaCroix scratched his beard and shrugged.


    ¡°Do you not care?¡±


    ¡°Honestly, monsieur, no.¡±


    ¡°No? You don¡¯t care that we are sailing at the head of a hellship, with a possible demon sitting in its captaincy? You don¡¯t care that a demon in man¡¯s clothing¡ªwoman¡¯s clothing¡ªtricked us into coming on this venture with him?¡±


    ¡°You are a stupid man, Cedar.¡±


    The surgeon blanched at this.


    On the table, Stephens let out an inarticulate cry, then said something that sounded like Mother.


    LaCroix peered down at the man. Stephens was young, barely twenty years old, and just now he breathed shallow, his stomach pierced and sewn to keep in his guts, but the bleeding would not stop. The bandages pressed around his midsection were once white, now soaked red.


    ¡°Make sure you tell Tomlinson and Gregory when he passes,¡± LaCroix said. ¡°They liked Stephens very much.¡±


    He left Cedar alone, and walked uneasily along the swaying deck. At last, without truly knowing where he was going, he stopped in front of the captain¡¯s door. He thumped it twice with a fist, and heard the door unlock from the other side. When it opened, the Ladyman stood there, a pistol held at his side, the hammer pulled back. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°We need to talk.¡±


    ¡°Are you alone?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± LaCroix said, standing to one side so he could see.


    Captain Laurier judged him a beat longer, then opened the door wider and admitted him. But as soon as LaCroix was inside, Laurier bolted the door. ¡°Well? What is it? I¡¯m busy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be a whole lot busier in a little while, Capitaine.¡± LaCroix sighed and took a seat in a chair. He pulled his long black hair behind his head and looked around. The smell of sweat and the lantern¡¯s oil filled the room. Charts were scattered across one table, and books were laid open on the other. The largest of the books was Fiore dei Liberi¡¯s treatise, The Flower of Battle. LaCroix was vaguely familiar with the three-hundred-year-old text. It was presently opened to a chapter on spada a un mano¡ªthe use of a sword in one hand. By the sweat on the captain¡¯s brow it was obvious he had been trying to relax his mind by training. The Ladyman was a formidable fighter, famously lethal, perhaps the most lethal LaCroix had ever seen, but that skill was not the one that needed honing right now.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to need friends soon,¡± he said. ¡°Very soon.¡±


    ¡°I have friends,¡± said the Ladyman, uncocking his pistol and tucking it in his waistline. Laurier was no longer dressed in his lady¡¯s clothes, he wore a simple white shirt and jerkin with grey breeches. His blue lipstick and shadowed eyes remained, though, as did some of his jewelry. ¡°Did you have something specific on your mind, Mr. LaCroix, or is this just to discuss your shares again?¡±


    ¡°I feel quite confident that Capitaine will honour the agreement he and I discussed before the raid on the settlements,¡± said Remy. ¡°I am comfortable with my shares. But I would like to know why you wanted me to rush my special concoctions down here, and just before Captain Vhingfrith came aboard.¡± He pointed to the two boxes in the corner.


    ¡°I assume it is obvious,¡± said Laurier, closing up his rutters and putting them away on a shelf. Without his feminine garb, the Ladyman seemed somehow diminished. It was rare to see him this vulnerable, like a warrior without his armour.


    ¡°You wanted the grenadoes here, in case you needed to use them against the whole fucking crew.¡±


    Laurier only looked at him.


    ¡°I want to help you. I do not wish to end up like the others.¡±


    ¡°What others?¡±


    ¡°Please, monsieur. Let us not speak in code. When we get to Vhingfrith¡¯s cay, we will careen, and the men will be allowed to go ashore, to either fish or relax or whatever else. Then you and your lover will decide whether to execute them or take your two ships and leave them all there, marooned.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re¡ª¡±


    ¡°When we first met, you said you brought me on board because I am not stupid like the others. Please remember my intelligence, Capitaine. I am not like those men out there, so frightened of the unknown. This new upheaval terrifies them, but I suffer nightmares often, strange visions, and I have seen worse in my dreams. I sometimes dream myself lost in a dark ocean, with no ship, just swimming towards nowhere. Every time I wake up, I am exhausted, as though the dream was real and I had been swimming all night. My life has been nothing but upheaval. Two astrologers have told me I was born under a sign of never-ending suffering,¡± he chuckled. ¡°And while I never put much belief into that, my life has proven them correct. So please, remember that. Remember that LaCroix is not like the others.¡±


    They stared at one another while Hazard heeled to starboard, then back to port. A book fell off the captain¡¯s shelf but he caught it before it hit the floor. As he replaced it, he said, ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Just your assurances that I will not be among those killed or marooned.¡±


    ¡°You have those assurances always. I would have thought it obvious.¡±


    ¡°Well, it isn¡¯t obvious. But perhaps it is clearer now.¡± LaCroix sighed and slapped his knees as he stood up. ¡°But now we must talk about your quartermaster?¡±


    ¡°Abner?¡±


    ¡°Oui.¡±


    ¡°What about him?¡±


    ¡°He has not stopped talking about the fucking Hellmouth since all this started. He is out there talking about it right now, and telling men there is only one solution to this. He¡¯s also made some remarks about you. Remarks suggesting we are trapped in this Hellmouth because of your sins.¡±


    Captain Laurier turned to face a bulkhead, looking at nothing. ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°Do you? Because Abner is loved by many, and right now, he has caught the mood.¡±


    Laurier turned back to him. ¡°What do you suggest, Mr. LaCroix?¡±


    Remy scratched at his beard. The plan had been moving slowly through his mind, as slowly as molasses moves in the winter, ever since he heard Isaacson in his hammock. If he thought about it, the plan had likely been forming ever since the Lively¡¯s crew came over to hold palaver. ¡°Between you and I, I believe we can make a list of the men most loyal to you. At least, more loyal to you than they are afraid of Abner¡¯s story.¡±


    Laurier looked at him hopefully. ¡°So, you do not rebuke the notion you just put to me?¡±


    ¡°You mean the notion of marooning some and killing those that try to get back on board this ship? No. And I believe I now have the confirmation I needed, as to why you wanted the grenadoes in here. If you have to take on large groups of men, you¡¯ll need something that can take out many men all at once. I can use the grenadoes better than you because I made them. There is that. So, I say to you, with your permission, I will approach such persons as I feel are absolutely loyal to you, and after that, I will need to be left alone in the bilge with my ingredients.¡±


    ¡°What all will you need?¡±


    ¡°I understand we took some bottles of wine and rum from the Nuestra? Good. I¡¯ll need any small-necked glass bottles you can spare, with plenty of birdshot¡ªyou ought to be able to find that in Tomlinson¡¯s locker, he likes to shoot gulls when we¡¯re close to shore¡ªand any small fragments of metal. Use any flecks that came loose during the battle. Have it all brought to me by your most trusted men.¡±


    Laurier nodded, his countenance appearing more hopeful than it had since Remy walked in. ¡°Do you still have plenty of saltpeter, charcoal, and sulfur from the last batch?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡± Laurier sighed and looked down at the two boxes. ¡°My hope was to put these to use in our next raid.¡±


    Now this surprised LaCroix. ¡°Next raid, Capitaine? Against who? Where?¡±


    The Ladyman smiled wanly. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe me if I told you.¡±


    Now that is most enticing, the Frenchman thought, suppressing an eager smile. The Ladyman was renowned for planning far, far in advance, and using one plan to fold into another, even greater plan, and then folding that into yet an even greater plan. He was like Blackbeard in that way, they said, using the momentum of one victory to score another one. LaCroix had not been aboard the Hazard long enough to see that Grand Design yet, and now wanted nothing more than to know what the Ladyman was planning to do, ultimately, if they survived the coming mutiny.


    Laurier said, ¡°Go, get to work. I¡¯ll send Dobbs with whatever you need. I think we both agree we can trust him.¡±


    LaCroix nodded. ¡°Oui. I¡¯ve never seen such devotion in a boy before. That nipper will follow you anywhere, even further down the throat of an actual Hellmouth if you told him to.¡±


    ____


    Two hundred yards to Hazard¡¯s port, Lively¡¯s lookout spotted land, and gave a cry do Dawson at the helm. The cay was so easily spotted, wreathed in the fierce double glow of two moons, which were now passing beneath the horizon.


    Captain Vhingfrith had Jacobson fire a single pistol to signal the Hazard that they had found what they were looking for, and then he raised his long glass to his left eye once more. Not only did the cat¡¯s-eye see exceedingly well in the dark, it also picked up greater detail wherever there was light. And via the glass magnification, he spied something that gave him great consternation.


    And while the men cheered at having found land¡ªprobably their joy was enhanced that at least some things were where they were supposed to be¡ªBenjamin stood upon the quarterdeck, and bit his tongue at what he saw upon the pink moon¡¯s surface.

 Chapter 9: A Dark Deed That Needed Doing

    nippers ¨C A number of yarns marled together, used to secure rope for the capstan. Also, an affectionate term for young sailors.


    DOBBS COULD NOT sleep until they reached the cay. He would neither abide nor believe Abner¡¯s speech against the captain, and so allied himself with the Ladyman as soon as he entered his cabin and heard that he and LaCroix were forming a plan and gathering men loyal to him. ¡°I will follow you, sir,¡± he told the Ladyman. ¡°To whatever end, I swear.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a lad,¡± the captain said. ¡°I needed only to hear that to know that no man or god can crush the Hazard. We are invincible as long as we have you. We will talk more of what must be done once we are ashore.¡± And that was that.


    Dobbs¡¯s heart was soaring. Though, after he left, he realized he would feel much better if he knew exactly what the captain had planned to stop the mutiny. As it was, he had no notion of the Ladyman¡¯s full machinations, and possessed only a belief that there was one. If the captain is going to circumvent a mutiny of dozens of men, he must have the steps all mapped out.


    Dobbs had seen mutiny before, none of them successful, and only one of them had come to violence. He had been with Captain Laurier two years now, and though he had heard the rumours that the Ladyman marooned men he suspected of planning a mutiny, Dobbs believed that rumour was false. And even if Laurier had done it, Dobbs believed he would have only done it in extremis.


    Dobbs allayed his own fears as he stood at the portside rail, watching the small cay come into view. The night ought to have been darker. It would have been less troubling if it were, but the two moons lingered in the sky, near the horizon, and it was soon obvious to Dobbs that the stars were spinning more slowly. He had heard the mutterings of some of the men that said the heavens were not moving as fast as they ought. Night was lasting longer, and that devilish pink moon made everything hauntingly visible.


    The waves pounded hard against the shore of the small cay, which had little to recommend it: little vegetation, and savage, unfavourable shores. Dobbs gripped the railing. His chest felt tight, and his heart was pounding. Knowing he had entered into a conspiracy with only a fraction of the crew frightened him. Part of him felt traitorous, but the other part of him, the part that saw the black sky and had no answers for it and believed only in the Ladyman¡ªa man that had always protected him¡ªsaid this was the only way.


    ¡°Abner!¡± called Laurier from the quarterdeck. The waves slapped violently against the hull, making it so he had to shout. ¡°Hold the anchor a¡¯cockbill until I tell you to drop it!¡±


    ¡°Aye, Cap¡¯n,¡± said the quartermaster, walking up behind Dobbs. ¡°Capstan bars, lads! Dobbs, you little nipper, get you over here!¡±


    Dobbs obeyed without comment. But it was strange, for hours ago, Abner had caught Dobbs alone and warned him they were indeed in the Hellmouth, and frantically quoted Scripture and suggested Captain Laurier may be the cause of their plight. ¡°Can I count on you to support myself and the other men, Dobbs?¡± the quartermaster had asked. ¡°Can I count on you, lad, when we do what we regrettably must do?¡± Dobbs had only nodded, and the old man had clapped him on the shoulder and said, ¡°I knew we could count on you, nipper. I¡¯ve often said that I¡¯ve seen godliness in your eyes, above most others I¡¯ve ever encountered.¡± He felt bad about lying to Abner, because the old man had always looked out for him. But then, Abner ought never to have let the thought enter into his mind to remove the Ladyman from the captaincy.


    For that must be what he is planning. Captain Laurier believes it, and now so do I. Oh Abner, you should never have let it come to this.


    Dobbs, Isaacson, Jenkins, and two of the new African crewmen went over to the capstan and began turning it. Jenkins was showing the Africans how to do it, while the tall one, Akil, seemed to understand first, and explained it to the others. Dobbs¡¯s eye was on Isaacson, standing at the bar in front of him. The man had a pistol tucked in his waistline. That was not terribly unusual for some of the men. Ever since setting sail from Nassau years ago, Dobbs had learned that pirate crews often walked about with one or two pistols primed and ready.


    But not at night. Not while on deck. It was already in the air. There were now two separate crews aboard Hazard, one that followed the captain, and another that believed Abner¡¯s theory.


    Cold wind lashed at his cheeks and his one eye. Dobbs once more looked at the night sky, wondering if this was all a dream. Was this truly night? He was not so sure, but he also did not believe Abner¡¯s insane whispered claims that they had somehow entered a portal into Hell. And even if we had, the Ladyman would know a way out. Dobbs judged all men against the Ladyman, and all men fell woefully short of even his shadow.


    Above him, Tomlinson and six others were reefing the sails. The anchor dropped, they were now at a relative standstill, though they bobbed too much in water that ought to be much calmer than this. They heard the soft scraping below them. An underwater sandbar was where they would stop. Once the tide was low enough, Hazard would drop low in the water and would lean away from the cay, putting her in a canted position and exposing her underbelly for repairs. Two hundred yards astern, Lively was doing the same.


    But will the tide be low enough for careening? he thought. It was a question on every man¡¯s mind, surely, and he had heard it spoken as frequently as the rumours Abner was spreading. The waters were mighty choppy. Much choppier than one would expect for these winds. The swells were too high for it. And it did not help that that wind was so cold, and growing colder by the minute, unless it was just his imagination. Hell isn¡¯t cold. Hell is hot. So we cannot be where Abner says we are. It was a boy¡¯s logic, simple and direct, and it was all he held on to.


    ¡°Okoa,¡± said the Ladyman, striding past the capstan. ¡°Prepare two boats. We will go ashore in shifts, and make sure the island is safe. It¡¯s small, but there could be natives there, one never knows. Better to be safe than all of us ambushed by Caribs. Abner, you will stay here while I¡¯m gone. The ship is yours.¡±


    Dobbs was astonished. Perhaps as astonished as Abner himself, though the quartermaster tried to hide it. Secrets did not stay secrets for long aboard ships, and surely the quartermaster already suspected his words had reached the captain¡¯s ears. At the very least, the Ladyman ought to expect a vote soon to remove him as captain. The undercurrent was felt by everyone. And yet, the captain now trusted Abner to remain on the ship while he, Laurier, went to shore? ¡°Aye, sir,¡± Abner said, and stroked his chin.


    He¡¯s wondering the same thing I am. Is it a ploy? It was always difficult to say with the Ladyman.


    ¡°Mr. Dobbs, you¡¯re with me,¡± said Laurier. ¡°Bring a musket. Should there be any small game, I know I can trust you to shoot it, even in the dark.¡±


    ¡°Aye aye, sir. Just let me fetch it.¡± This part of the plan Dobbs had known about, and as he went below, he passed through the galley, where Stephens, having finally succumbed to his wounds, lay dead on a table, his eyes closed, arms folded on his chest. Mr. Cedar was over in the corner, weeping, clutching his Bible. But Dobbs did not think he was crying over the dead sailor. Dobbs had already seen a few of the men crying, their initial hope that Vhingfrith¡¯s theory was true was beginning to fade¡ªCedar knows we did not sleep a whole day away. And in that moment, Dobbs knew it, too. But who cares? Captain Laurier has never steered us wrong. If anyone can escape the Devil, it¡¯s him. His beliefs shifted according to whatever it took to stay faithful to the Ladyman.


    Still, it was terrifying to think that this was all some unnatural phenomenon. He summoned what was left of his courage and went to his bunk to grab his musket, as well as his bags of powder and shot, and ran to join the captain on the longboat. An hour before, when he was in the captain¡¯s cabin, Laurier had told Dobbs he wanted him to come ashore with his musket, but he had not said why. Was it really just to shoot small game, as he now claimed?


    The waters were almost as hazardous as they had been in the storm, they foamed and heaved like a leviathan was beneath the surface, though there were no clouds, no powerful winds. What winds there were were cold. Near frigid waters splashed over the gunnels, and Dobbs gasped in shock from it, and shivered as he and the boys rowed. Captain Laurier stood at the bow, gazing at the little island, his balance as steady as a statue¡¯s. Dobbs ground his teeth as he worked his oars, his musket tucked tightly between his thighs. He looked to the west and saw two longboats labouring as they embarked from the Lively. The privateers were going to meet them on shore.


    Nothing was right about any of this. Where were the harsh winds and clouds that ought to be accompanying waves such as these? I want you to get mad, and snarl, like a mad dog, his mother used to say. Whenever you find yourself overmatched or scared, snarl like a mad dog, and growl, and fight!


    Dobbs growled. The others glanced at him, but kept rowing.


    As they approached shore, it became obvious that the tide was going too far inland. The cay was mostly sandy, with about a hundred square yards of greenery at its center. But the tide was reaching well into the thickets of grass and acara bushes. There was a single Mayaguana tree, its branches fanning out wickedly with the fading light of the two moons behind them.


    Dobbs looked at the sky. The stars are moving too slowly. If this is truly night, and the sun is merely yet to rise, then something else has happened. Night is lasting too long.


    A splinter of doubt embedded itself in his mind. Just how wrong about everything was the Ladyman¡­?


    They made it to shore and hauled the longboat up and every man¡¯s teeth were now chattering as they clutched themselves and huddled close to share warmth. Someone built a fast fire, and they kept throwing on twigs and branches to keep it going. They even lit the Mayaguana tree to generate as much heat as possible. Dobbs imagined that, seen from afar, their tiny little cay shone like a beacon.


    Captains Laurier and Vhingfrith watched the fire awhile, then walked away and huddled together, along with a few of their lead officers. Dobbs found a place near the growing bonfire and made sure all his equipment was dry, lest he load his musket with a damp charge. Satisfied, he loaded and primed it and walked over to join Jenkins, who stood near the bonfire rubbing his hands together. Every man¡¯s breath came out like dragon¡¯s smoke. It was growing unbelievably cold.


    What is happening? thought Dobbs. His young mind was reeling, and yet, unbeknownst to him, being young meant he was more capable of accepting great upheaval than the other men, so set in their ways. Some part of him had started recognizing this aspect of his personality. Youth can adapt, while those with too much life experience tend to cling to what¡¯s familiar, and have a more difficult time when new phenomena contradict those experiences.


    Someone walked by him and tossed him a dry blanket, and Dobbs held it close to him. Jenkins was talking to him, gesturing to the waves that reached higher and higher up the shore, emphasizing the word unnatural again and again.


    Jenkins was his friend, so Dobbs indulged him for a time, but eventually he had to start walking. Walking kept him warm inside his blanket.


    But he never walked too close to the tide. He did not trust it. It was in such a loud tumult, the foaming waters roaring to a degree one had almost to shout to be heard. The men kept having to pull the longboats farther inland, to ensure the tide did not carry them back out. The tide, like black fingers, kept reaching out to him. There was a dark invitation in each thrust of the waves, and an awakening in his soul warned him it was only going to get worse. It¡¯s so unnatural. So very, very unnatural.


    Snarl at it like a mad dog.


    ¡°Dobbs!¡± someone cried. He spun and saw Tomlinson waving to him. ¡°Captain¡¯s askin¡¯ for you!¡±


    Dobbs was off. He ran up alongside the Ladyman, who was dressed in men¡¯s clothes; a black long coat and grey jerkin, with boots and petticoat-breeches. His face was still painted like a lady¡¯s, though. Somehow that gave Dobbs reassurance, seeing the Ladyman was not so concerned about their predicament that he forgot his vanity.


    ¡°Dobbs,¡± the captain said. ¡°There you are. Stay near me, I may have need of you soon.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡± Though, Dobbs could not imagine what the captain could possibly have need of him for. Not out here, not in this situation. And the tiny island clearly had no game to speak of, so it seemed bringing the musket had been for nothing.


    ¡°¡ªand so we can almost be sure that we will not be able to careen,¡± Vhingfrith was saying. Other officers were leaning in with faces lined with concern, blowing into their hands to keep them warm. A dozen of the Hazard¡¯s crew were present, all with unblinking, fretful eyes, and they couldn¡¯t take those eyes off the half-Negro. ¡°Two moons will have this effect, perhaps permanently, perhaps not. The seas will be tormented for as long as there are two moons in the sky¡ª¡±


    ¡°I thought yeh said it was an illusion!¡± shouted Walker. The former Londoner had a look that told Dobbs he probably now wished he had never joined the Royal Navy, never fell in with pirates, never left England.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m telling you now that it was a fabrication,¡± Vhingfrith said evenly. ¡°A little lie, told to keep lesser men from falling apart.¡± He waited for that to sink in with everyone present.


    Dobbs looked to see if there would be a mutiny here and now. Assembled from the Hazard were Tomlinson, Walker, Jenkins, Anne Bonny, Owens, Jaime, Okoa, Reginald, and four other men he barely knew. One of them was a mute Irishman that Dobbs knew was lethal with a pistol. To him, they all seemed upstanding, but he had been wrong before. For example, he once believed Isaacson¡¯s groping was innocent play, until he very nearly fell victim to the man¡¯s perversions.


    Everyone was waiting for Vhingfrith to continue. Though he must be cold, the Devil¡¯s Son showed no signs of suffering the wind. His composure was as impeccable, Dobbs thought, as Laurier¡¯s. The Ladyman appeared stolid and stern as he gazed severely upon his men, his very demeanor commanding them to keep their courage. Perhaps that was also what kept some of them from tearing Devil Ben apart. That, and the person standing behind him. Behind Laurier, almost as if she was hiding, was Anne Bonny, who studied a pistol in her hand like it was every bit the oddity the sun¡¯s disappearance was. But Dobbs knew both her presence and position were no accident.


    ¡°The truth is,¡± said Vhingfrith, ¡°I sold that story to the men I thought weakest of mind, and those of you here, now, are those Captain Laurier and myself felt had the most wits about them. The clearest thinkers from both Lively and Hazard.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯re yeh sayin¡¯?¡± asked Jaime. ¡°That there¡¯s nae more sun?¡±


    ¡°One thing at a time, Jaime,¡± said Bonny. They all looked at her. She never looked away from the pistol in her hand, like a clinician encountering a new disease, meaning to understand it.


    Laurier nodded for Vhingfrith to continue.


    Dobbs glanced back at the huge tree, engulfed in flames. And now men were opening casks of rum and either drinking it or throwing it into the fire. He looked at the tide; it encroached farther up the shore, almost reaching the longboats again.


    ¡°No doubt you have all recognized the slowness of the heavens,¡± Vhingfrith went on, pointing to the stars. ¡°If the moons are in fact real, and not a shared delusion, then it explains the slow turn of the Earth.¡±


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°What?¡± Jenkins blurted. They all looked at him briefly.


    Vhingfrith sighed. ¡°I could give you the source of my reasoning, and the wiser men¡¯s knowledge that I am drawing from¡ªsuffice it to say the speed of the Earth¡¯s rotation, according to minds much greater than my own, is partially dictated by our moon. Or has been, for untold ages. But now that there are two moons, they may create a kind of friction against the attractive forces that govern the heavens.¡± Lively¡¯s captain looked at each of their confused faces. ¡°The good news is, this may indicate we still do have a sun¡ªit may only be on the other side of the world. The Earth is merely taking longer than usual to get back around to seeing it, because this new moon is slowing us all down.¡±


    ¡°No lie this time?¡± asked Tomlinson. ¡°Is this the very truth?¡±


    Vhingfrith¡¯s face indicated he was summoning all his patience. ¡°I apologize for my previous deception, sir. But if we want to survive, we have only one imperative now: trust in this circle here. The men standing here. And one lady,¡± he tossed over his shoulder at Anne, who never acknowledged him. ¡°We alone can keep our small world afloat.¡±


    Once more, Dobbs looked at their group of conspirators; Tomlinson, Walker and Jenkins, all gifted seamen; Bonny, a fighter; Owens, the navigator; Jaime and Okoa, very decent linemen and fine fighters; Reginald, the cook; the other four men were good carpenters, he seemed to recall. Just enough to run a sloop, perhaps. On Vhingfrith¡¯s side, though, there were even less men, and the half-Negro¡¯s brig was larger than Hazard.


    Laurier seemed to read Dobbs¡¯s mind. ¡°There are a few more shipboard that are loyal to me. Mr. LaCroix, for instance, gave me most of your names,¡± he said to his people. ¡°And LaCroix is currently aboard the Hazard to ensure our quartermaster does not sail off and leave us. We also have our helmsman, Mr. Kepler, on our side, and a smattering of others. All in all, I¡¯d say we have a bit more than half that will follow us. Captain Vhingfrith here has conducted the same ploy on his ship.¡±


    ¡°Which is?¡± asked Reginald, stepping forward eagerly. His huge belly nearly bumped the captain¡¯s. ¡°What is this ploy, exactly? What¡¯s it for?¡±


    ¡°We needed a place to convene so that we could all decide what we are going to do, away from the eyes and ears of those who are just now beginning to conspire against us,¡± said Vhingfrith, pointing at Hazard and Lively, both bobbing in the turbulent water. ¡°So, we brought you all here to discuss this matter.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t we send them ashore?¡± said Jenkins, ¡°and leave ourselves shipboard?¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± Vhingfrith explained, ¡°that would have seemed too obvious to those already paranoid beyond all good sense. They would have suspected they were being marooned, especially after¡­¡± He trailed off. To Dobbs, it seemed Vhingfrith did not want to speak to the rumour that Captain Laurier, standing right beside him, had marooned almost his entire crew three years ago. ¡°We all have to decide now, so that when we return to our vessels, we work uniformly to overtake them. We lock what prisoners we must in the holds and in the bilges, and if they resist¡­well, you know what to do.¡±


    ¡°Kill our own men?¡± Walker hissed.


    ¡°Only those as cannot be trusted and refuse to submit themselves to chains,¡± said the Ladyman. ¡°We will promise them release once we reach Royal.¡±


    ¡°What about the rest of the men?¡± Dobbs said, pointing to the twenty or so fellows warming themselves by the burning tree. Its flame was already starting to wane, and beyond it, the two moons were finally vanishing below the horizon. ¡°Do we just leave them stranded here?¡±


    ¡°They will be given a chance to submit, just like all the others. We will let them know that as long as they submit completely, without any violence, their shares will still be intact and the treasures we¡¯ve plundered together shall still be divided evenly, just as we all swore.¡±


    Dobbs cast about at Vhingfrith¡¯s allies. He realized the bald first mate, Jacobson, was not among them, nor any of the other major officers. So he asked the obvious. ¡°How will you take control of the Lively with so few?¡± Dobbs was young but not stupid. Being a brig, Lively would have at least sixty men aboard her. Far too many to overpower with just a dozen or so men on Vhingfrith¡¯s side. ¡°That is, begging your pardon, sir, but it all seems much too delicate.¡±


    Vhingfrith answered, ¡°I have seventeen more aboard the Lively that I know I can trust. I have not approached them all with this plan, for I did not want word to slip out, but my helmsman is one of them, and he assures me those others are on my side.¡± He added, ¡°If only because I am the one most gifted at navigating these waters, they will choose to follow me. They do not love me, but they also do not believe we are somehow condemned by God. They will trust me to get us to Port Royal. Right this minute, that is all I need.¡±


    ¡°Then ¡¯ow do we do this?¡± asked Jaime. ¡° ¡¯Ow exactly does this play out?¡±


    Laurier and Vhingfrith exchanged quick glances. ¡°Those of my crew here,¡± Captain Laurier said, ¡°will go aboard Hazard with me, and we will make our intentions known. We make our pronouncement, and see if Abner and his followers obey. If they do, all the better. If they do not, then I¡¯ll invoke the Eighth Tenet, to try and avoid too much bloodshed.¡±


    ¡°The Eighth?¡± said Reginald.


    Everyone stood silent and listened to the wind. The Eighth Tenet was only invoked to settle a score between two pirates who could not suffer the other to live. A duel that could only end in death. And once it was done, no vengeance could be lawfully taken by the dead pirate¡¯s friends.


    Dobbs looked gravely over at Jenkins, who only shivered and shook his head like he did not like any of this. But Dobbs knew he would go along, if only because his loyalty to the Ladyman nearly matched Dobbs¡¯s own.


    ¡°Abner will not fight you,¡± said Tomlinson. ¡°He can¡¯t. He¡¯s almost a cripple.¡±


    ¡°No, he won¡¯t fight me,¡± said Laurier.


    ¡°Then he¡¯ll elect someone to stand fer him,¡± said Walker.


    ¡°Most likely.¡±


    ¡°Who d¡¯yeh think he¡¯ll ask?¡± said Jaime.


    Laurier sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s not worry about that until the time comes. Right now, you have your orders. Go retrieve the rest of the men and tell whichever ones you trust what is about to happen. Those who are against it are to be marooned here, so they may not warn the others aboard the ships¡ªwe have the guns, so they cannot stop us. Then we push the longboats back out,¡± he said, looking at the waves, still reaching higher up the shore, ¡°and both our crews sail back to our respective ships. A shot will be fired from the crow¡¯s nest and a lantern lit at the stern to signal that it is done.¡±


    They all nodded and said their ayes and then moved away to obey. When everyone was gone, Dobbs lingered by the two captains. He was shivering. His breath now came out in larger white clouds as he asked, ¡°Captain, a moment?¡±


    ¡°What is it, Dobbs?¡± said Laurier, putting a hand on the boy¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Sir, I only wanted to know¡­why did you have me come along, and why did you have me bring my musket? I do not believe it was to hunt game.¡±


    ¡°Very astute, young nipper.¡± Captain Laurier waved to Anne, and told her, ¡°Light the lanterns.¡±


    She nodded and walked away.


    ¡°Come with me, Dobbs.¡±


    The captain led him to the far eastern side of the cay, well away from all the flames and men getting drunk on rum. They walked through the night, through tall grass that whispered conspiratorially all around them. The night grew even colder, more ominous. He wondered where the Ladyman was taking him. At last, the captain said, ¡°Right about here should do.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me, sir, what will do?¡±


    ¡°Tell me, Dobbs,¡± Laurier said. ¡°How far do you make the Hazard¡¯s quarterdeck from here?¡±


    Dobbs blinked. ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Let me be plain. Can you shoot a man on deck from here?¡±


    ____


    Spare a lament for Abner Bartholomew Crane. It is not the fault of any man the century in which he is born, nor the times he faces, nor the rearing that his mother and father, for better or worse, provided him. Before he was killed, Abner was doing what he always did: he was seeing to the crewmen under his care. He was a pirate, true, and had been for well over a decade since forsaking England¡¯s shores. Or rather, he would have said, after England forsook him. But during his days of piratical activities, there was scarce a man but what found his company pleasing, even medicinal. We might even say his actions towards his men at the end, his love for their care and safety, is commendable above all.


    Abner did not know what was waiting for him when he saw Captain Laurier set out for the small cay on his longboat. Had he the Ladyman¡¯s knack for intrigue, he might have guessed it. But Abner bore the Ladyman no ill will, not truly. Indeed, even after he had spoken to Laurier and Vhingfrith with such acerbity in the cabin, and condemned them as sexual deviants and devils, he felt great sorrow for treating the captain so.


    He is like all of us, Abner mused, as he limped around the quarterdeck, gazing at the stars. The cold wind made him shiver, and he clutched his long coat close. The captain is only made of flesh, as am I, as are all these precious souls. We stray. We sin. Will his sins weigh the scales down any more than my own?


    Abner left Kepler alone at the quarterdeck and limped down the stairs to check on the men. He didn¡¯t know it, but it would be his last patrol. Some men were working to remove frayed pieces of rope and mix them with tar to make oakum. He patted them on their shoulders, asked if they needed anything. He went belowdecks to check on Mr. Cedar, and to his horror found the man had opened his own veins with a knife. Abner discovered this by lanternlight, and under normal circumstances would have cried for help, but the surgeon sat slumped against a wall, beside young Stephens, also dead, and he looked so calm.


    The deep-red pool that spread around Cedar¡¯s chair ran in all directions¡ªthe heavy leaning of the deck had sent the puddle every which way. Cedar¡¯s eyes were open, and Abner set his lantern down and took the time to close them. He said a prayer, asking God to receive Cedar¡¯s soul as he received all His children. ¡°Judge not his weakness, I pray, O Lord,¡± he said. ¡°For we are all stuck in a quagmire like no other. He failed Your test, but please, I beg, judge him softly. He saved more men than he ever killed, I know that much. But only You know his heart, O Lord.¡±


    Abner wept. The tears were not just for Cedar, but for all of Hazard¡¯s crew. Once more he begged God to take his soul, to accept it in return for the safe passage of the rest of the men. ¡°I know I have been wicked, O Lord,¡± he said, pacing and wringing his hands. ¡°This is not the life You would have had for me, nor I for myself, if I had been honest and true to Your Word.¡±


    He laid a hand on Cedar¡¯s head, knowing the surgeon had taken the route Abner himself would have taken, were he not afraid of eternal damnation.


    And it is for that reason I must lead these men out.


    Spare a lament for Abner Bartholomew Crane. He was not an evil man. Bad at times, of course, but never evil, never relishing in wickedness. Every act he committed was done so because of a weakness he acknowledged in himself, and wanted desperately to rebuke and exculpate. Down through the years, he found a place for himself on many ships, always seeing to the men and their needs, sensing that somewhere in all this business he would find a way to bring them salvation, and therefore achieve it for himself.


    He tried.


    When he returned to the quarterdeck, he informed Kepler, ¡°Cedar is dead. He opened his own veins.¡±


    Kepler looked away from the wheel. At all times a helmsman¡¯s eyes and hands should be on the wheel, lest a rogue wind or sudden squall materialize that could endanger the ship. A helmsman could only step away when he was relieved of duty. But now Kepler gazed at Abner, and a question passed unspoken between them. Are we going to see more suicides?


    I think yes, Abner mused.


    They were in the Hellmouth, he had no doubt about that now. And there was only one way out. The Ladyman, bless him, would have to be hobbled in chains and thrown in the water. The Devil¡¯s Son, too, would have to go. They can both go together, so they¡¯re not afraid. Abner nodded. He dreaded the look on Captain Laurier¡¯s face when he went under. Abner nearly wept again, nearly wept for Cedar all over again and the rest of the crew and the Ladyman and even the goddamned Frenchman.


    He saw movement, and looked around to see Akil and the other Africans coming up from belowdecks. They all seemed to look at him a moment, as if wanting to ask a question. He wondered if they could be converted to his cause. He had heard that Negros on plantations were accustomed to the Christian faith. Perhaps, he thought, this is a test for all of us. Abner smiled. Yes, this could be his true test. Why, even the Negros could be baptized, and brought over to the Lord¡¯s Army when this nightmare was over.


    Spare a lament for Abner Bartholomew Crane, who, despite having committed murder, still held on to a sliver of his youthful innocence, an innocence that told him God¡¯s work could still be done here. His upbringing led him here, his superstitions reinforced by others with equally cruel upbringings and equally unlucky lives. The Scripture was where he derived sustenance, and where he found true anchor. The decision he made to turn on the Ladyman was made not out of hate, but out of love for all the men, and all he wanted was for them to be safe, and for his own soul to find redemption through their redeeming.


    Abner was about to go and begin talking to the men he knew he could trust, to prepare them for what must be done when Captain Laurier returned, when he noticed more lights appear on the cay. The tiny island¡¯s tree was already lit up, but that fire was dying down, and now two small dots of light appeared on the eastern side.


    A hand touched his shoulder. Kepler said, ¡°Abner, do you mind looking over the rail there? I fear we¡¯ve heeled too much and may be about to scrape. And check for barnacles, would you?¡±


    Abner looked at him. Perhaps he registered the deceit in the helmsman¡¯s eyes. The sadness. If he did, he mistook it for fear of the Hellmouth. ¡°Of course, Mr. Kepler,¡± he said, and limped over to the portside rail and looked down into the black water.


    The two moons lit the waters unnaturally. Abner tried to see the seafloor. He spotted nothing unusual. Then he looked back to the fires lit on the small island, and he thought he saw dancing. Touching his crucifix, he smiled, suddenly warmed by the feeling of fellowship. All at once, he realized what a fool he had been, for Captain Laurier might be a sinner, but look at the way he brought all the men together. Just look at all of them there on the island, dancing, laughing.


    Something hissed and bit at the side of his neck. A second later, he heard what sounded like the distant crack of a rifle. Abner reached up and touched his neck, thinking, Odd for mosquitoes to have reached this far from the island¡ª


    Something hot poured down his clothing. His hand came away from his neck covered in blood. He felt along his neck again, and found the hole that had sliced his jugular. The bullet had grazed him.


    While he struggled to understand, other things transpired that he never saw. Akil, who had been primed by Okoa to act as a contingency in case Dobbs¡¯s shot missed, had come up to the quarterdeck when the two lanterns were lit on the island¡ªthat was the signal the Ladyman prearranged. Kepler had permitted the African access to the trapdoor just behind the wheel, which led down into the galley. Abner never knew whose hands it was that grabbed him and threw him overboard. He felt the cold wind rushing past his face, and let out a small whimper, and when he plopped into the cold, heaving waters, he sank fast.


    Akil vanished, unseen as a wraith, back down the ladder. Kepler closed the trapdoor and waited a moment to make sure no one had seen. Perhaps a few had heard the crack of the musket coming from the island, but it was so distant as to be negligible. After a moment, he took the bucket of water beside his wheel and used it to wash the former quartermaster¡¯s blood over the side of the deck.


    A few more minutes went by before he shouted the alarm, ¡°Man overboard!¡±


    Men came rushing to the stern when they found out it was Abner who had tossed himself overboard after mumbling something to Kepler about how he had offended God. LaCroix suddenly appeared, and claimed he had seen it all, too, had seen Abner weeping after he saw Cedar¡¯s suicide, and had gone up to the quarterdeck looking despondent before throwing himself over. In LaCroix¡¯s back pocket, there was the knife he had used to slit Cedar¡¯s wrists, wiped clean, and safely tucked.


    In mere moments, what men had been ready to toss Captain John Laurier overboard and follow Abner Crane suddenly had the wind taken from their sails. There was confusion, shouting. If anyone suspected the conspiracy, they didn¡¯t say. One man leapt weeping into the water, saying he was desirous to be with Abner, to steer back on God¡¯s path. Three others followed him. LaCroix and Kepler let them go. They merely needed to keep the confusion going a while longer, until the remaining crew were only too glad to welcome back Captain Laurier.


    ____


    Dobbs lowered the musket, and looked over at Captain Laurier. ¡°It¡¯s done, sir.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡±


    ¡°I saw him fall into the water.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll trust your eye. You know, you are a singular young man, Dobbs,¡± he said, ruffling his moppy hair. But perhaps he noticed Dobbs¡¯s mood. He was still knelt there, his rifle locked against his left shoulder. Laurier reached down slowly and took it. ¡°I know it¡¯s hard. I know you admired him, and I know that he respected you.¡±


    Dobbs shrugged. ¡°It had to be done, sir. Like you said. It was him or us.¡±


    ¡°Of course, you¡¯re right. But that doesn¡¯t mean it won¡¯t¡­ah, what matter? Let¡¯s not dwell on it. Let¡¯s get in the boats and get gone from here. Benjamin!¡± he called. Vhingfrith was not far away, he and his people were getting their own boats ready to return to the Lively. Some of the men on the island that had heard the musket fire were shouting now, asking if Dobbs had bagged him some kind of game. Laurier¡¯s subtle plan had worked, no one on the island suspected, and as far as Dobbs could tell, no one aboard Hazard saw a thing who wasn¡¯t supposed to.


    The Devil¡¯s Son came walking over, and Laurier said, ¡°It¡¯s done.¡±


    ¡°Good. Well, then, once you are back aboard your ship, you know what to do.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Laurier hesitated. ¡°I can¡¯t press you to let me come with you to the Lively?¡±


    ¡°I can handle my own crew, Captain,¡± said Vhingfrith. ¡°I imagine it will be put to a vote, and Jacobson will be leading it, but I believe I can sway enough votes my way. Just hope that your story of Mr. Crane¡¯s demise holds you to Port Royal.¡±


    ¡°It will.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll see you there.¡± He glanced down at Dobbs. ¡°Excellent shooting, young nipper.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    "A dark deed that needed doing."


    "Yes, sir."


    "Nothing to do about it now, no need to cry over it."


    "No, sir."


    Once they were back in the boat, Dobbs rowed in a kind of malaise. A melancholy overtook him, and he was glad to be at the back of the rowers, so that he could hide his tears.


    Halfway to the ship, the wind kicked up more fiercely. He glanced over the gunnels, and wondered what Abner had seen when he fell into those black waters. He wondered if the seafloor had changed as much as the sky. He remembered something from his distant school years, something his teacher had said about a man named Hermes something-or-other saying, ¡°As above, so below, as within, as without, as the universe, so the soul.¡±


    He looked at the queer sky. As above, so below. The voice in his head sounded like Abner.

 Chapter 10: The Short Mutiny

    wind-rode ¨C The situation of a vessel, being at anchor, and swinging and riding by the force of the wind, rather than by the force of the tide or current.


    ¡°READY TO WEIGH anchor, Captain,¡± said Galbraith. The second mate¡¯s words were spoken promptly as the captain and the crew climbed up over the railing, yet Benjamin caught the acerbity in his eye.


    ¡°Belay that a moment, Mr. Galbraith,¡± Benjamin said, pulling on his gloves.


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°You heard me, Mr. Galbraith. Belay it.¡±


    ¡°But¡ªshe¡¯s heeling too much, Captain. Lively cannot careen here, she doesn¡¯t have the right footing.¡±


    ¡°We are not careening here. We cannot. Gather all the men on the deck. We need discuss matters of import.¡±


    Galbraith¡¯s face was a barely contained paroxysm of emotions and questions, but he kept them bottled as he went about the captain¡¯s business. He¡¯s a good enough man to follow orders, Benjamin thought, but how long before he looks for a way to remove the one giving them? Benjamin was no fool, he knew that loyalty was not easily defined, and no man was a monolith. Men¡¯s loyalties were fickle, and swayed with the wind. If pushed to the point where they felt their own lives were at stake, they could turn on anyone, and commit the blackest and bloodiest of deeds, and would tell themselves afterwards, for the sake of keeping up the illusion of having honour, that they had always known the captain was a vile man. And yet if the captain managed to hold on to power, they would maintain they had always known he was right and just. They would say whatever kept them believing that they themselves were good and decent.


    Benjamin Vhingfrith had been here before, standing upon decks shamed with blood, watching as the men committing murder justified their actions post-act. He had risked much in returning to his ship. Part of him already thought, I ought to have gone with John. He remembered the words of his father, telling him that if he ever felt cornered, he should abandon the Lively, and keep his freedom.


    Benjamin looked at the eight men who had joined him ashore¡ªeight men he hardly knew at all, but who Dawson assured him were no friend of Jacobson¡¯s. Those eight men had heard what Devil Ben and the Ladyman were planning, and now he had to worry that they would second-guess their loyalties and turn on him, now that they were back on the ship. So he watched them closely.


    Jacobson appeared from belowdecks, shirtless, his pants soaked to the knees. It was obvious he had been in the bilge, but he had not neglected to buckle his sword to himself and tuck a pistol in the belt. Pirates may walk about the ship with pistols, but not officers, not until there was fighting to be done. Not far beyond Jacobson was Hoyt Burr, his brother Gordon was climbing down from the mizzen, having just secured a loose sheet flapping in the breeze. Osterholm came up from belowdecks, too, along with twenty other angry-faced men.


    Benjamin knew at once they were against him.


    ¡°Hats off,¡± he told them. Every man obeyed sullenly. Benjamin walked halfway up the steps to the quarterdeck, the traditional position for a captain to address the many faces of his crew. The coldness of the wind nearly took his breath away, and he saw that Lively was already straining against it. The wind was pushing at her, even with her sails reefed. Dawson came down from the helm to join the others, but as he passed Benjamin on the stairs, he muttered, ¡°She¡¯s a little wind-rode, sir,¡± and gave an almost imperceptible nod. I¡¯ve done my end, the nod said. The rest is up to you.


    Vhingfrith stood before the nearly seventy men that had followed him through Hell for nigh on a year. Their skill was more than admirable and their gestalt as a crew overall was superb, to say nothing of their courage under the most dangerous and onerous tasks. Many of them were at their lowest point of their lives when they found work with the Devil¡¯s Son, and now he had to tell them that even he was turning on them.


    Benjamin waited, and looked west to see the Hazard was letting loose most of her sheets and wearing away from the island. Slowly, the pirate vessel killed that maneuver, and then slowly turned so that her starboardside guns were facing the Lively.


    At the moment, all of Lively¡¯s crew was facing their captain, so no one noticed the maneuver.


    A minute later, a light was lit at the Hazard¡¯s stern, and the sound of a single pistol shot carried over the water. John¡¯s part was done, he had control of his ship. Some aboard the Lively heard the shot and looked around confused, but then turned back to face their captain.


    ¡°I will not waste your time, I will just come to it,¡± Vhingfrith said. ¡°You all know we are in grave circumstances and it is not proper that I should deceive you any longer. It seems to me now that I was indeed wrong, not only about our ability to careen here, but about all of it. I thought as much when I told you the story about gas pockets and other phenomena. And so now, those of you who were feeling terror to the point of senselessness will likely be returning to your prior despondency, and there will be a vote. But this ship is mine, and I will not be voted out of the captaincy, I should rather die than allow it.¡±


    They all listened as the cold wind cut them deeply. Jacobson pushed slowly through the crowd until he reached the foot of the steps and stared up at Vhingfrith. The first mate¡¯s hand rested on the pommel of his cutlass.


    ¡°I told you I will not belabor the point, and so here it is: I have searched my conscience and found only one solution. Those of you who would join Mr. Jacobson¡¯s side in ousting me¡ªand I know who you are¡ªare to be shackled and led below to the hold.¡± Gasps and murmurs and a few angry shouts rippled through the assembly. ¡°You shall not be hurt, nor handled roughly. You shall receive your shares as you were promised when we reach Royal. You shall be fed as normal, but you will not be allowed to walk the deck freely until we reach Royal. That is the deal, gentlemen. The reason for this is¡ª¡±


    ¡°Horseshit!¡± someone shouted. Others screamed in agreement. Jacobson just stared up at him.


    ¡°The reason,¡± Vhingfrith carried on, ¡°is because I sense full mutiny not far away. You would toss me aside, some of you out of fear, and some of you out of your hatred for me. I have suffered no disillusions. I have long known the enmity that many of you hold for me in your hearts. And yes, I do know Mr. Jacobson has a right to hold his vote, and so I will let him carry it out.¡±


    Now they all hushed, confused by this. Dawson and some of Vhingfrith¡¯s other loyalists were slowly maneuvering themselves to the outside of the crowd, near the railing, and some had already drawn their pistols.


    ¡°Only know this: the Ladyman has asked help from this ship, should there be any problems reaching Royal. And he¡¯s made it clear he trusts Lively only when she is captained by me, and me alone, and awaits only my signal that I have control of Lively. And if Mr. Jacobson is successful in ousting me, then I will do the right thing had accede control of Lively to him. However, I cannot account for the Hazard¡¯s captain. Guide your eyes now to the Hazard¡¯s positioning.¡±


    With a gesture, Vhingfrith directed their attention two hundred yards off the port side, to where the shadowy silhouette of the pirate sloop-of-war was visible against the starry horizon, longways, her starboard side facing the Lively. The two moons might have vanished, but any man could tell she had all her guns out and ready.


    ¡°Upon our landing on the island, Captain Laurier made clear his concern that a mutiny aboard this ship could mean Lively¡¯s new captain will only render Hazard an enemy vessel. He said he was certain that without me as captain, Lively could not be trusted, and he is prepared to fight. Further, he stated¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡ªbloody¡ªfucking¡ªNegro!¡± That growling voice was Jacobson¡¯s. His breath came out in churning white clouds, his mad eyes lit by Hell¡¯s inferno, by the lantern held by Galbraith, who stood beside him and was equally apoplectic with rage. ¡°You¡¯ve allied with the Ladyman? You¡¯ve turned us all into pirates!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve done no such thing. If you wish to vote me out of the captaincy, I will acquiesce, as I¡¯ve already said.¡±


    ¡°And fail to give the Ladyman your signal in so doing?¡±


    ¡°He did ask for a certain signal to convey that I held onto the captaincy, yes. And as a man of my word, I cannot in good conscience¡ª¡±


    ¡°You left us at anchor so¡¯s Hazard could get into position!¡± cried Galbraith, the whole thing falling belatedly into place. ¡°You¡¯ve fucked us!¡±


    Men were panicking, looking left and right, wondering if they ought to rush to their stations by the cannons. But it was too late. They were too late.


    ¡°I cannot in good conscience send our agreed-upon signal if I am in fact not the captain of the Lively. If he does not receive my signal soon, he will open fire. So, you see our predicament.¡± Vhingfrith cast about at their enraged faces. And now Jacobson, as well as those men that had been ready to side with him, started looking around the ship¡¯s deck, and recognition began to register in their eyes when they saw Dawson and others standing outside of the crowd, pistols drawn, but not yet pointing at any targets. Jacobson saw this and sneered. Galbraith appeared by turns angry, offended, frightened, and confused. ¡°Mr. Jacobson, do you wish to hold your vote now?¡±


    All of the would-be mutineers looked to Jacobson, and then at each other. Surely many of them were wondering which side their brothers were on, and who had been in on Vhingfrith¡¯s conspiracy from the moment he left for the island. Now, he was not entirely alone. Now, there were two sides clearly delineated. Now, the half-Negro captain had the upper hand.


    ¡°Mr. Jacobson?¡±


    The first mate snorted out a miserable laugh. ¡°Well played, Captain.¡± He nodded appreciatively, and scratched his chin. ¡°Well played.¡± But the tone told Ben to draw his sword and dive for his first mate¡¯s left hand, to keep him from drawing his pistol fully.


    That instinct proved right, because Jacobson suddenly scrambled up the steps at him.


    Ben leapt off the middle stair and collided with Jacobson the instant the first mate¡¯s hand gripped his pistol. It fired, the boom momentarily deafening, and the gunpowder smoke filled Vhingfrith¡¯s nostrils before he realized the bullet had hit another crewman. Jacobson headbutted Ben and he tasted coppery blood. Jacobson kicked him in his chest, sending him backpedaling until he fell against the stairs. By the time Vhingfrith was on his feet again, his first mate had drawn his cutlass and was charging.


    All around him, he heard shots being fired and men screaming.


    ¡°Stop!¡± someone cried.


    But the dissent could not be stopped, nor the rage bottled.


    Jacobson¡¯s blade slammed into Vhingfrith¡¯s so hard it nearly disarmed him, and the first mate¡¯s fist smacked his jaw and there was a crack and it felt like something went loose. Vhingfrith saw stars, but pushed his enemy back and deflected two killing thrusts before more shots were fired. Then someone slammed into him, and three men tackled Jacobson and hauled him away.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    It was all suddenly over. Benjamin felt dizzy. His ears and brain were ringing. A hand was on his shoulder, steadying him. Gazing around, he saw many of his men dropping to their knees, and raising their hands in the air. Dawson and a dozen others had pistols and swords drawn, encircling Jacobson¡¯s faction. Three men lay on the ground, dead from knife wounds to the belly. Benjamin¡¯s eye caught sight of a dozen other men who stood near the bowsprit, each of them holding on to a stay with one hand, and aiming a pistol with the other. It was John and his pirates.


    Anne Bonny was there, swaggering forward, her pistol sweeping left to right as the other pirates flanked her. John had a mad kind of smile on his face as he stepped down from the railing. Jacobson cast a baleful gaze at Vhingfrith as he was brought to join the other captives. The short-lived mutiny was at an end. And Vhingfrith was glad, for no one was a match for Jacobson, even with his wounded arm. He knew John had saved him. Another few seconds alone with Jacobson would have meant his death.


    The next few actions happened quickly. With his head still ringing, Vhingfrith watched as both his and John¡¯s men shackled the mutineers and hauled them below. Relief flooded through him, and he could only imagine how hard John¡¯s men must have rowed to get here in time. He imagined John had his people send up the signal, and then, while Hazard was maneuvering to aim her guns at Lively, the Ladyman must¡¯ve taken his most loyal men into a longboat and pushed hard across the angry waters. He was never more glad that the Ladyman had disobeyed him than now.


    His love may have its uses, his father once told him. But you cannot be with him the way you want. Vhingfrith spat blood on the deck angrily.


    Once the prisoners¡¯ chains were locked and bolted in the bilge, Vhingfrith faced Jacobson, but addressed them all. It was hard to speak, for even his own voice sounded muffled to him. He hoped the hearing loss was not permanent.


    ¡°As captain of the Lively, charged with a letter of marque, and authorized by the Governor¡¯s issuance of said letter, I hereby¡ª¡± He paused to spit out another gob of blood, which made Jacobson chuckle. ¡°I hereby quarantine you in this hull for your insubordination and insurrection, and detain you for the remainder of this voyage¡ª¡±


    ¡°And what about our shares?¡± grumbled Galbraith. Someone had given the second mate a bloody lip.


    ¡°And the bloody fuckin¡¯ sun!¡± another man shouted.


    ¡°I cannot account for the celestial phenomenon. But I told you before, all your shares are safe, you will not be severely punished for this insurrection. Once we reach Royal, I will speak to the Admiralty Court and the tribunals, and ask them to be lenient. You all have dishonoured yourselves by breaking oath. But if all goes well, you will be liberated and not have your names besmirched publicly and we will all go our separate ways.¡±


    ¡°What about the fuckin¡¯ sun?!¡± someone else cried. ¡°Where is it?! What have you two buggering devils done to make us deserve all o¡¯ this?! Where is it?!¡±


    Vhingfrith gave a small laugh. ¡°Once I find it, I¡¯ll let you know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find you, Devil¡¯s Son,¡± said Jacobson, never blinking. His voice was cold. ¡°Wherever you go, I will find you.¡±


    ¡°Jacobson,¡± Vhingfrith said, turning back to him, ¡°I would almost be disappointed in you if you did not try. But, until then, you can make yourselves useful down here working the pumps. I do not care in what shifts you do it.¡±


    ¡°What if we don¡¯t want to? What if we refuse to work?¡±


    ¡°Then this ship will surely take on enough water to sink. You¡¯ve all seen the waves outside, you can feel the choppiness in here. As we sail, more water is bound to make its way down here. Myself and the rest of the crew will jump on board the Hazard. The Lively will be yours, Jacobson, to drown in. And I wish you joy of it with all my heart.¡±


    Jacobson made no reply. Some of the others began to shout. Three or four fell to their knees and wept for the sun or begged for forgiveness, from both God and Vhingfrith.


    Vhingfrith left them to their sorrows. He managed to keep it together as he returned to the main deck and shouted out the orders to weigh anchor and let the sheets fly and begin tacking. Before John and his men got in the longboat to row back to the Hazard, John said, ¡°A pleasure to help, Captain.¡± He winked and left.


    Vhingfrith met Fuller, his navigator, and Dawson at the helm, and together they discussed this new whipping wind and their course. He looked about his deck, and saw only ten men at work.


    ¡°We have twenty-three men with us, Captain,¡± said Dawson. ¡°I counted. The rest are locked up.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s less than I thought we¡¯d keep,¡± Benjamin said, touching his brow.


    ¡°I should hope this wind keeps this pace, and in the same direction, more or less,¡± said Fuller. ¡°That¡¯ll bring us into Port Royal in about three days, I¡¯d say, Cap¡¯n. We¡¯ve only just entered the mouth of the Dragon, but if we turn back now, I think we can make good headway.¡± Solemnly, he added, ¡°I know you wanted to find the Santo Domingo de Guzman and the Le¨®n Coronado out here, but if you really do wish to get to Port Royal soon, we cannot follow any more leads.¡±


    ¡°My orders were to leave at once and I meant it, gentlemen.¡± It was disappointing to have their chase interrupted, though, just when he thought he was gaining ground. The Nuestra¡¯s logs were likely to be a goldmine of information, could he adequately study them. He turned to leave, determined to do just that. Then he paused. A dizzy spell came over him briefly, his head suddenly ringing again.


    ¡°Are you all right, sir?¡± asked Fuller.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. And thank you.¡± He looked at Fuller and Dawson. ¡°Thank you both. For standing with me.¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir,¡± Dawson said.


    Ben clapped both men on the shoulder, then stepped down into the companionway. One of the men loyal to him, thankfully, was Tyndall, the surgeon, and he was in the galley looking at two dead bodies on his tables. ¡°How goes it, Scarecrow?¡±


    Tyndall looked up from the corpses. Their bellies had been pierced grotesquely, and it was never clear which side either of them had been on when the fighting commenced. They were the only two casualties of the mutiny. ¡°I¡¯ve almost got them prepared, sir. Will you want a ceremony before I have them¡ª¡±


    ¡°Drop their bodies over the rail forthwith, Scarecrow. I want this ugly business behind us, no reminders should be left upon this ship. Only tell me when it is done.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡± The tall, dark-faced man looked like he might have something else to say, but for the moment he kept it to himself.


    But for the creaking of wood, the rest of the companionway was eerily silent, and most of the hammocks swung emptily from their beams. Lively heeled horridly back and forth. Vhingfrith made it to his cabin before he finally lost control of his emotions. He closed the door and barred it and walked across a floor that swayed heavily, and stood in front of his desk, looking down at nautical charts with tidal diamonds that were supposed to relay specific points about tidal direction and speed, all of which was useless now that there were two moons.


    The ship swayed again, and again, and again, and his already spinning head became worse, and all at once he flung the charts across the room and hammered his fists repeatedly against his desk until one of them was bloody. At some point he became aware of someone shouting his name.


    ¡°Ben!¡±


    He turned at once, and pulled one of the pistols from the holster on his chest and aimed it at John Laurier, who stood in a dark corner of the room. ¡°John?¡± he breathed. ¡°You fucking imbecile! I could have shot you! I thought you had gone. What are you doing lurking in the corner of¡ªwhy did you row over here to help me? I had it under control.¡±


    ¡°I rowed hard to get over here in time,¡± Laurier said, walking over to him, his hands held up in mock surrender until Vhingfrith lowered the weapon. ¡°I had a feeling Jacobson would not see things your way. Only a united front could quell them.¡±


    ¡°I had it under control.¡±


    ¡°You did?¡± Laurier¡¯s eyes moved down to Vhingfrith¡¯s bloodied hand.


    ¡°Yes, I did.¡±


    Laurier folded his arms and sighed. ¡°You had just enough armed men to overtake them. And let¡¯s be honest, many of those who came to your aid decided it at the last minute. Had I not ordered Hazard to point her guns at you, and had I not appeared on your deck with my men to show solidarity with you, many of them¡ªmost of them¡ªwould have helped Jacobson keel-haul you, throw you over the side.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°The hell you do! Insufferable man, you pretend to know everything.¡±


    ¡°I know what I know best. Just like I know you.¡± Laurier walked around the desk, and faced Vhingfrith on the other side. ¡°You are gifted with knowledge of the stars and natural sciences, Benjamin,¡± he said, flipping through the papers and charts on the desk. ¡°Myself, I fall short in those intellectual pursuits. Miserably short. What I know, Benjamin, is men. And I knew those men in your hold were not going to just let you carry on as captain, not after all they¡¯ve seen tonight.¡±


    Vhingrith finally looked at him. ¡°How go the assassinations aboard your ship, Captain? How many more lives did you have to cut short before you managed to quell mutiny?¡±


    John scratched his face and turned his head. ¡°If you think to hurt me with your words, you will have to do better, Benjamin.¡±


    ¡°Captain Vhingfrith, sir. If you please.¡±


    ¡°Captain, then. If we are to carry on this charade, and pretend that you¡¯ve never killed before, or committed any¡ª¡±


    ¡°I have only ever killed my enemies, and the enemies of England. Never have I slain a man that was under my command, not before he drew on me first.¡±


    ¡°Nor would you. For you are Benjamin Ulysses Vhingfrith, and you hold on to the dream of civility because you hope one day to be welcomed into civilization.¡± John snorted. ¡°Your father himself told you that was impossible, did he not? You admired him so, and yet you refrain from listening to his counsel. Tell me, did his advice cease to hold relevancy the moment his heart stopped beating?¡±


    ¡°You forget yourself, sir! You forget on whose ship¡ª¡±


    ¡°I am aboard the ship of a man who would be a slave if all those men outside that door had their way! Including the navigator and the helmsman and every other bloody man you think truly stands with you! They¡¯re all castaways, Ben! Degenerates! At least as far as England is concerned! Just like you and just like me! Just like us!¡±


    ¡°You speak of degeneracy like it was something civilization cast on you,¡± Vhingfrith said. He rounded the desk and came within two steps of the pirate captain. ¡°As though you despise the title. When in fact you revel in it. Murder, theft, piracy, you commit it all without cause or purpose, with no goal besides fattening your own purse! At least I serve an ideal. You wallow in your degeneracy like a pig is a sty and then repudiate finer gentlemen and ladies for their class, for their stations. Because if you cannot live that loftily, then by God, you shall bend the skies to pretend you never wanted it.¡±


    John arched an eyebrow. ¡°You think me a pretender?¡±


    ¡°I think you a mummer.¡± Ben scoffed. ¡°See how you dress. Are you a lady or a man?¡±


    ¡°Would you prefer I was a woman?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Would it make all of this better?¡±


    ¡°Make what better?¡±


    John closed the distance between them in two smooth steps and reached up and touched Ben¡¯s face. Ben batted the hand away, and John held on to the bloodied hand. Slowly, he removed his scarf, and even more slowly, he wiped the blood away from Ben¡¯s hand. Then he kissed a knuckle.


    Ben yanked his hand back. ¡°Upon my word, you take many liberties, sir.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I shall take more.¡±


    ¡°Only if I don¡¯t stop you.¡±


    ¡°By all means. Try.¡±


    John leaned forward.


    Ben¡¯s hand touched the hilt of his cutlass, just as John¡¯s hand clamped down on his wrist. There might have been a scuffle if John had not silenced him with a kiss. As their lips touched, Ben recoiled inwardly, but neither his feet nor his body moved an inch. Their lips remained touching and both of them held their breath until the Ladyman reached up to caress the back of Ben¡¯s neck. Every part of him stirred, and when the Ladyman¡¯s hand crept down his trousers, Ben responded just as he had years ago, almost to his shame and embarrassment. The shame was complete when John¡¯s hand gripped his manhood, brought rigid, and claimed it.


    ¡°John¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not now, Ben. For God¡¯s sakes, for once, just shut the fuck up.¡±


    ¡°John¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up! And let me show you I am no lady.¡±


    Their lips touched again, and this time they explored one another in a rhythm, until John¡¯s other hand slid down Ben¡¯s spine and reached into his trousers to grab a buttock, and squeezed. And now his other hand was working up and down, gently, and now Ben was firm, unable to resist anything. The ship heeled heavily but he did not notice, he was only glad he had thought to bar the door. And now he thrust his tongue into John¡¯s mouth and hardly noticed when his own trousers fell and puddled around his feet.


    And then John was on his knees and took a short, admiring gaze of what he had in his hands.


    The ship rocked heavily and he heard men shouting on the deck above, ¡°Sheet home!¡± as the crew prepared to get underway. Ben both heard and didn¡¯t hear it, because when John started in on him, Ben gasped and grabbed a handful of his blond hair and sat back against his desk.


    The shame might have thrilled Ben even more, if he was honest, the lack of control itself intoxicating, for he had never felt simultaneously vulnerable and so in charge. He then took command, and reveled in it, standing straight and placing both hands on the back of John¡¯s head and guiding him.


    As climax approached, Ben opened his mouth and let out a moan. When he was spent, he could not help but to keep giving several smaller thrusts.


    And then John was on his feet again and kissing Ben, and Ben knew nothing else. His trousers were still down, and in a moment he knew he would want more. John knew this too, and, staring into his eyes, he slowly grabbed Ben¡¯s wrist and turned him around, and gently laid him over the desk.

 Chapter 11: Honour, the Cosmos, and the Republic

    The Republic of Pirates ¨C Founded in 1706, a loose confederacy run by privateers-turned-pirates in the port of Nassau, on the island of New Providence.


    THE COLD HAD crept into the cabin. They lay on the floor in blankets, most of their clothes strewn about. But for the quiet creak of timber, and the groan of taut ropes, all was quiet. The ship heeled, though not as heavily as before, John noticed. He slipped free of Ben¡¯s arms to retrieve another blanket, then returned and placed his head against Ben¡¯s chest. They had been lying there only a few moments, and neither of them had spoken. Yet Ben¡¯s arm came up around him and made him feel at home. They lingered in this simulacrum of safety a moment longer. Neither one dared break the spell.


    John soaked it in. He closed his eyes and inhaled his lover¡¯s musky smell and pressed his ear against his lover¡¯s chest to hear the heart beating within. He held fast to him, feeling his manhood stiffen but not meaning to do anything else with it, not right now, not when the most important thing was holding on for dear life.


    John knew it would be Ben who made the rational decision to break away, as he did, with some reluctance. The privateer captain walked nakedly around his cabin, gathering his clothes, his body shining from sweat and the golden lanternlight. John stood up and started to follow him, started to take Ben by the hand and make him put his clothes back on the floor, but Ben gave him a look of warning and John froze. ¡°I¡¯m needed topside. Your people will be wondering where you¡¯ve gone.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t have to wonder,¡± Laurier whispered, and took Ben¡¯s hand.


    Vhingfrith drew back, but not hard, and the Ladyman kissed him softly on the cheek.


    ¡°We cannot linger,¡± Vhingfrith said.


    Laurier looked down at his lover¡¯s hand, at the two golden rings and the one silver one, the others made out of brass. They all glimmered in the lantern¡¯s light. One of the golden rings was on the middle finger, and Laurier ran his fingers along its engraving: Macte virtute sic itur ad astra.


    ¡°We cannot linger,¡± Vhingfrith repeated.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    For a protracted moment they only stood there. John looked at Ben, and Ben averted his gaze from everything. ¡°You had better go, or Anne will leave without you.¡±


    ¡°Anne Bonny won¡¯t leave me for anything.¡±


    ¡°Still.¡± Ben still could not look at him.


    John nodded, and then went about dressing himself. Once everything was tucked and buckled, he unbolted the door and stepped out into the dark corridor. He took one last look back at Ben before shutting the door, soaking in his visage and hoping that the sun would return so that he could see the man one more time in the sun. He always glowed in the sun. Thinking on that, it brought to mind their predicament, and a worry that had been growing in John¡¯s soul. The lovemaking had been a distraction, no doubt something both he and Ben needed. But now, the question finally needed to be asked.


    ¡°Where do you really think the sun is, Ben?¡±


    Benjamin had just pulled on his breeches, and now looked over at him. ¡°What makes you think I know?¡±


    ¡°You always have an idea about all things. Theories.¡±


    Ben said nothing. John sighed and started to leave.


    ¡°There is still a sun,¡± Ben muttered. John looked back at him. ¡°Greek philosophers knew it was the sun that put light into the moon, and as I told the men before, da Vinci hypothesized how light refraction made it all work. If we believe these Men of Letters, then there can be no moonlight without the sun. That is the thinking of wise men, at least. But we still have a moon¡ªtwo moons, at the moment¡ªand they both shine. Ergo¡­¡±


    ¡°The sun must still be there, on the other side of the World.¡±


    ¡°No. I did not say the sun, Captain Laurier. Nor our sun. I said a sun still exists.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡±


    Ben looked out the window. ¡°It has been proposed, by some astute men, that each star in our sky is just like our sun, only much, much farther away. Each star may have a planet around it, like Jupiter, like Saturn, like ours. If that is the case, then we may have swapped positions with another world out there.¡±


    John was aghast. ¡°Swapped positions? What the devil are you talking about?¡±


    Ben sighed. ¡°I cannot answer for it, John. We have our moon, but we also have a new one. And it would explain the shifting of the stars¡ªwe may merely be looking at them from a slightly different vantage in the Universe.¡± He shook his head and rubbed his temples, as though it all gave him a headache. ¡°Something has happened, and there is scarce a dark thought but what now plagues me.¡± He looked at his wounded hand, the fingers lightly shaking. Was he frightened, or cold? His breath was coming out in little white tufts. And John wanted nothing more than to rush over to him and kiss those fingers until they ceased their trembling.


    ¡°A sun will rise eventually, mark me,¡± Ben said. ¡°And slowly. Very slowly. These moons conspire to slow the Earth, and whatever sun is coming from around the other side of the planet, it will rise slowly.¡± He added, ¡°And then we shall truly have men losing their good sense, and what few men are still loyal to us¡­may ultimately decide that the mutineers were right all along. Especially after¡­what you and I just did. Surely some of them will have heard¡­¡± Yes, indeed, their lovemaking had been loud.


    The ship heeled again, savagely, and they both had to reach for a bulkhead to maintain their balance.


    ¡°We need sail to Port Royal with all speed. Perhaps even farther to Nassau.¡±


    ¡°Why Nassau, may I ask?¡± John said.


    ¡°We may soon be in need of friends, and the only ones who may be ready to accept men such as us are those in the Republic.¡±


    John did not need to ask to which Republic he was referring. ¡°I will follow you anywhere, my darling love.¡± The words were past his lips and he already knew they were wrong.


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that,¡± Ben said resolutely, his eyes aflame. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± He pulled on his shirt and buttoned it with angry, jerking motions.


    It was clear Ben meant it, but now the words rolled trippingly and John knew they had to be said now or they might never be said. ¡°You and I once had a conversation about the Greek tragedies. I told you I never read any of them, so you described them to me, and you asked me what I thought the meaning of ¡®tragedy¡¯ is, or if I could give a true, definitive example. I had no answer at the time, but I do now. I¡¯ve thought long and hard on it, actually.¡±


    ¡°I do not care to listen to any of this. Not now.¡±


    ¡°It is a tragedy, Captain, that the people we love can never know just how much we love them. They cannot feel it, no matter how much we try and put it into words. They all die not knowing just how it feels to love them, and therefore perhaps some of them die believing they were never truly loved at all.¡±


    ¡°What is all this nonsense¡ª¡±


    ¡°You still don¡¯t understand, do you? To me, you are crystalline in your perfection. It was not until I held you just now that I realized how long we had been apart, and how monstrously I have wasted my time.¡± He snorted out a laugh. ¡°I should not be commanding any ship, nor handing nor reefing any ship, unless you are on it.¡±


    ¡°I will not hear any of this.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you will. Apart from your father, no man has ever understood me. No man or woman has ever tried¡ª¡±


    ¡°Is it true what they say you did in the Cape Verde Islands?¡±


    It hit him like a strike to the face, and John¡¯s voice caught in his throat.


    ¡°Is it?¡±


    John drew up. ¡°What do ¡®they¡¯ say, Ben?¡±


    Benjamin fumed, and paced his cabin like a panther in a cage. ¡°That you raided two English colonies.¡±


    The words were seasoned by venom, and John knew that, like his own words of love and affection, Benjamin¡¯s words had been barely contained for some time now, waiting to get out. ¡°They were small colonies¡ª¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s true!¡± Ben¡¯s voice thundered.


    ¡°If you will permit me to finish, they were small colonies of privateers. Captain Stephen Errenwright of the Light Touch had raided a little island where I kept a handful of my men to guard our stores. He raided the island, killed all but one of my men, and left with everything of ours. All our stores to survive the season.¡±


    ¡°And so you took raw vengeance!¡±


    ¡°We took back what was ours¡ª¡±


    ¡°And then some, from what I hear!¡±


    ¡°How can I help what extra my men take behind my back? Are you accountable for every one of your men, Captain Vhingfrith?¡± John glared at him. ¡°And is it true what I¡¯ve heard about you? That you¡¯ve taken to hunting down pirates? Eh? Is that you, Benjamin? A pirate hunter? They say men have hung because of you. Is it true?¡±


    ¡°If you mean to make me feel guilty for hanging murderers and rapists, you will be disappointed, sir.¡±


    John snorted in disgust. ¡°England has your heart, sir, though for the life of me I do not know what she has done to deserve it more than me. You¡¯ll do anything for her, even believe her lies about me. Yes, I am a pirate, but only because one of England¡¯s favourite privateers elected to make me a target. Woodes Rogers, damn him, is my truest enemy! That fucking privateer made me his target. England used us up, just as they¡¯ve always done, and then meant to cast us aside, even murder us! And I chose not to let myself, nor any those men that died for me on that island, to be taken granted. So, I made sure they would goddamn well remember us.¡±


    ¡°As if you ever gave two shits about any of your men! How many have you murdered tonight to keep control of the Hazard?¡±


    ¡°As many as I had to,¡± John said, stepping towards him. ¡°And I daresay I¡¯ll kill more before I cross through the true Hellmouth.¡±


    ¡°If they cross you, you mean.¡±


    ¡°Or you.¡±


    Benjamin snarled. ¡°That is your idea of honour, is it?¡±


    ¡°What the fuck is honour? I don¡¯t know that word. Pressed, I don¡¯t think I could even spell it, not even with a pistol to my head.¡±


    Those words hung in the air between them. Time seemed to seep into the timbers. The room swayed.


    At last, John said, ¡°You cling to that word like a rope. Honour. But what is it? Who dispenses it? Where does it come from? Do you still not understand that your honour means nothing to them?¡± He pointed up, towards the main deck. ¡°You can take all your pretty words and secret knowledge and recite it all while walking on water, and they¡¯ll still never be half as loyal to you as I have been.¡±


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    ¡°And for what do I owe this great loyalty?¡±


    ¡°Love, you stupid bastard! And you could have it all, if you would but give up this sad notion that you could ever be a gentleman to them, welcomed into a society of Men of Letters and great men of airs. You cannot earn their love! You spent too long watching men kowtow to your father, respecting him, and you want that for yourself! I understand, Ben. But you cannot have it. At least with me you can have something few people ever find.¡±


    ¡°You understand nothing, Captain Laurier.¡±


    ¡°I understand that you find me reprehensible, though I torture myself to guess why. Is it because by associating with me, your name may be held even lower in contempt than it already is, as a deviant half-Negro captain? And that you lessen your chances of becoming one of them?¡±


    ¡°It is because you are a pirate and you cause me vexations.¡±


    ¡°Vexations?¡± John laughed. ¡°Is that what you call what we were just doing?¡±


    If Benjamin¡¯s face could be seen to blush in the dark, his dark cheeks might have done so.


    ¡°Let me ask you, if not for friendship, then why did you help me with the Nuestra?¡± John said. ¡°Why answer a pirate¡¯s message at all? You could have pretended to answer my call, and arranged an ambush to take me and my pirate crew in. So why didn¡¯t you? Was it only for the plunder?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I think not. I think there is more to it than that.¡±


    ¡°I will not make comment on the act you and I have just committed¡ª¡±


    ¡°Act. You make it sound all so capricious and evil. It is an act of love, if you have to call it an act at all!¡±


    ¡°If I may, Captain, I will say only that it is an urge you and I ought not indulge in, and I own that I do not yet have a solution to it. And as for the Nuestra, you place responsibility for my involvement at the feet of my affections for you, whatever they are. You think love made me come to your aid?¡±


    ¡°If not love, then what?¡± John tore the locket from his neck. ¡°If not for this, then what?¡±


    Benjamin sneered, and walked around the desk and tore open a drawer and pulled out a book. It looked like a ship¡¯s log, and the cover of it looked to John to be written in Spanish. ¡°The Nuestra¡¯s log.¡±


    John looked at it a beat. ¡°Her log?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Much of it is written in code, but Father taught me to read some of it, and I know a man in Royal who worked for the Intelligence Office and is familiar with some of the codes used by the armada.¡±


    It took a moment for it to sink in. ¡°You¡­wanted her logs?¡±


    ¡°The prize in plunder was also nice, its reward will help pay for more ventures out this way, to continue the hunt.¡±


    ¡°The hunt?¡±


    ¡°For the Santo Domingo de Guzman and the Le¨®n Coronado.¡±


    John nodded. ¡°I see,¡± he said. ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°I apologize if you feel there was anything more to it, Captain Laurier. But you will recall my letter of marque is for the hunting of Spanish naos.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°Yes, I recall. Just as I recall the Santo Domingo¡¯s Captain Morales is, in his way, responsible for your father¡¯s death.¡± John smiled. ¡°A moment ago you chastised me for even thinking upon vengeance as a motivator for how I manage my crew.¡±


    ¡°I assure you, it is not vengeance, but duty that impels me to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Duty. Honour. Code. All words and manners you have adapted to the occasion, in vain hopes to solidify yourself as above me. Above everyone. Well, I see you there, Benjamin. We all see you there, sitting high¡ª¡±


    ¡°Listen to me, Captain Laurier, and please take no offence¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop calling me that! My name is John and you bloody well know¡ª¡±


    John silenced himself. He stood there a moment, realizing once more, as he had ages ago, that this was going to lead right back to their last argument, which almost ended violently. It took him a few breaths to recompose himself, and then licked his lips and said, ¡°The stars. They are oriented differently. Can you still navigate by them?¡±


    Benjamin seemed happy to get back to business. ¡°They are roughly in the same condition, though some are gone, and others are new. I will do my best.¡±


    ¡°Then Lively ought to take the lead. We will follow behind you.¡±


    ¡°I believe that is the best course.¡± He added, ¡°And Captain? Be so kind as not to stray off course for any reason. If you try any tricks with me, I am athwart your hawse, and I will not tolerate it.¡±


    ¡°You think so little of me? That I would try to slip away in this lasting dark, and leave you now? After all I have done?¡±


    Vhingfrith sneered. ¡°Honestly, I do not know your mind. Your mind¡­it is like an eel, slithering in the night. And it gives me less of a headache if I do not try to guess at all your schemes. So, please, get to your ship, and we will proceed with all speed.¡±


    They looked at each other a moment.


    ¡°All speed, Captain Laurier.¡±


    John opened his mouth. It felt like there was more to say, and yet if Ben was right, and an alien sun was soon to rise, then there was no time to spare. They had to get to Port Royal before all their crewmen lost their minds completely. He nodded, and turned and walked through the empty companionway, through the empty galley. What few men were left loyal to the Lively¡¯s captain were on the main deck coiling rope and guiding the yardarms to best catch the wind. One could always tell when a ship had stopped moving, and he realized Lively had tacked away from the small island cay and anchored a hundred yards to starboard of Hazard. All around, crewmen gave him severe looks. Accusatory looks. They knew what he and Vhingfrith had been up to down below. John suddenly felt targeted, and hastened to the rail, where Anne Bonny and the others were waiting for him. He glanced over the starboard rail and saw that Lively¡¯s crew had towed their longboat alongside.


    ¡°Ready, Captain,¡± said Bonny.


    Laurier looked at her. The woman had no judgment on her face, nor did most of the men with her. ¡°Then let¡¯s go.¡±


    As they stepped over the railing to climb down to the longboat, Laurier gave a look at the crew about the deck. Every face held contempt. He smiled at them, and gave a wave.


    ¡°While you and Captain Vhingfrith were conferring, I rowed across to see to the Hazard,¡± Bonny said. Water splashed over the longboat¡¯s gunnels, and they had to fight to keep the boat pointed in the right direction, for the waves were sending them in the wrong direction. Laurier decided he would have to take up a pair of oars, as well, and put his back into it. ¡°There was a small group that opposed you, led by Oliver, but they¡¯ve been chained and put below.¡±


    ¡°How many?¡± he hollered above the waves.


    ¡°Nine.¡±


    More water splashed over the side and soaked them.


    Nine. Including Oliver, who was reliable on the tiller. That was a blow, considering they had also lost Abner. A well of emotions came over him briefly, and Laurier was for once glad of the turbulent waves, else the others would have seen him shaking uncontrollably. He was suddenly very afraid, and he wanted nothing more than to be in Ben¡¯s arms, to be back in that cabin, in that protracted moment where they had held each other and pretended to have safety and contentment.


    When he reached Hazard, it was Akil who reached down to haul him up. Laurier clapped him on the shoulder. Akil and the other former slaves were barely even known to the rest of the crew, and yet both immediately sensed they needed one another. There is something about the gestalt of desperate men that sometimes makes for hardier bonds, he thought. Okoa limped across the wavering deck on crutches, and said, ¡°Kepler say, Captain is welcome back. Ship is yours. Kepler say ready to tack northwest.¡±


    ¡°And what does Akil say?¡± John asked. ¡°Are he and his men happy? Is there anything they need?¡± He wanted to keep all his remaining allies happy.


    Okoa spoke to Akil, then translated to John, ¡°Akil say he and his brothers happy to be aboard. Look forward to more freedom.¡±


    More freedom. Sounds lovely, Laurier thought.


    He nodded and looked around at their faces. Dobbs was nearby, hair soaking wet, a pistol tucked in his waistline. Reginald, Walker, and Jaime were all holding onto ropes, ready to pull the yardarms round to take in the wind¡¯s power. LaCroix came up from belowdecks, his clothes and hair as wet as Dobbs¡¯s. Doubtless, they had been working overtime in the bilge.


    ¡°You are the quartermaster now, Mr. Okoa,¡± Laurier said, without ceremony. ¡°Congratulations on your promotion. I will need your help. You know the orders well enough, and you¡¯ve held command of Hazard whenever I¡¯ve gone ashore. Hazard knows you, she will appreciate your guidance.¡±


    Okoa¡¯s eyes widened. His chest inflated a tad. ¡°Thank you, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Your first order is to weigh anchor.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain. Weigh anchor!¡± he boomed.


    While the crew went to their stations, John ambled his way over to LaCroix. He opened up his coat and pulled out the three glass spheres filled with alchemical mixtures. Once he handed them to the Frenchman, he said, ¡°I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t have to use them.¡±


    ¡°As am I, Capitaine. Else, the Lively would likely be in flames right now. How did you quell it without violence?¡±


    ¡°There was some violence. I will tell you about it later.¡± He turned to the long-legged man walking up to him. ¡°Mr. Isaacson, stow those cables in the orlop. Mr. Owens, if you would join me at the helm.¡± Together, they marched up to the wheel, where Kepler, the old man, appeared to be fighting with the wheel.


    ¡°She¡¯s wind-rode, Captain.¡±


    ¡°I see that. So you both know, we are following the Lively. Captain Vhingfrith has the best mind for setting a course under these¡­unusual circumstances.¡± He looked aft, where Lively was already starting to surge forth and take the lead. ¡°Mr. Owens, I will need to confer with you over the charts, just in case something else goes awry on the Lively. We¡¯ll want to know our own way.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    Laurier took another worrisome look at the Lively and then headed below. After consulting with Owens in his cabin, he dismissed his navigator and paced alone in the room. For a moment his stomach lurched. These seas¡­they swayed unnaturally. The room was dark because no one had lit a lantern. It suddenly occurred to him how very precious candles and lantern oil was soon to become, for if there was no sun¡ªor, if Vhingfrith was correct, and a sun of some kind was indeed still on the other side of the globe, and nights were now going to last longer¡ªthen they would be in deep need of fuel for flames. Very deep need.


    Laurier took a deep breath, and thought he smelled Vhingfrith in the room with him, to the point he nearly searched for him.


    The room was so very cold. Practically winter.


    He lit a lantern. Tears might have fallen as he got to work poring over the charts, and perhaps he wiped them all away absentmindedly; he could not recall. His body was moving automatically, without his input. And his mind was not truly on the charts and rutters, but instead drifting from one thing to another. Benjamin barely entered his thoughts, shockingly, and instead his mind crawled back to Kent, to his brothers and sisters he presumed were still there, still working the till. This time of year, they all ought to be worrying about next month¡¯s harvest.


    Laurier opened his journal. Each entry was short, usually just the date, the weather, the direction they sailed and any anomalies they encountered. He had not written in it since the phenomenon began. Today, as it stood, ought to be twenty-ninth of August, but who knew for sure?


    At some point, Owens knocked on his door and entered, and together they each picked up their dividers and got to work speculating where they were, and plotting where they were going. No more did Benjamin Vhingfrith occupy his mind, only thoughts of survival consumed him, and his time with that beautiful man with that beautiful mind was relegated to the part of his soul that indulged only in dreams and flights of fancy. The future was a dark world, and he had better learn to navigate it alone.


    ____


    Dobbs lay in his hammock with Rory in his lap. Almost all the other hammocks were empty. LaCroix¡¯s wasn¡¯t, the Frenchman lay snoring, scarcely caring about any of the long night¡¯s events. Or at least it seemed so. Dobbs lay awake with only a single candle to light the room, and Rory purred softly as he half slept, half eyed the darkness. His hammock was near the ladder, but no moonlight came down the porthole because now both moons were gone and the stars were insufficient to light anything.


    This was true darkness, of a kind his dreams had dared not even show him. No amount of fanciful thinking could ever have summoned up a scenario such as this, and he kept waiting to wake up. Guilt over killing Abner came in waves, but like the tides, it always receded and then he was calm. I killed him. But the captain gave the order. There would¡¯ve been mutiny if I hadn¡¯t¡­


    Light entered the room.


    Okoa came hopping down the stairs on a crutch, his free hand holding the lantern. The African now assumed the duties that were once Abner¡¯s, checking in on each of the men. Even on one leg, Okoa managed to keep his balance, which was a feat considering the harsh swaying of the ship. Dobbs had seen Okoa speaking to Akil and the other Africans, translating for Walker, Jenkins, and Tomlinson, all of whom were trying to give the new crewmen the very basics on how to hand, reef, and sail. Now he came hopping by Dobbs¡¯s hammock, and said, ¡°Candles very important now, Dobbs. Use very sparingly.¡±


    ¡°I was only reading a little,¡± he whispered, closing his book and putting it away. Dobbs knew only the rudiments of the alphabet and had memorized what a few key words looked like, but any books with drawings helped him piece things together and create his own stories in his mind.


    ¡°Use very sparingly,¡± Okoa said again, as he walked away.


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± He blew it out, and listened as Okoa¡¯s crutches thumped back up the ladder to the main deck.


    Shutting his eyes, Dobbs tried to imagine the sun again, he tried to feel the warmth of it on his face. God in Heaven, please don¡¯t keep the sun from us. Whatever we¡¯ve done, forgive us. If Abner were there, he would have said the prayer with Dobbs. He would have been proud to.


    After a moment, Dobbs felt himself drifting off. The heavy swaying came to feel like he was a leaf on an unusually strong wind, and he slipped into dream. But then something woke him, a rhythmic thump-thump-thump from underneath the floor, and he sat up and nearly fell out of his hammock. Voices began to rise. More like deep humming.


    ¡°What is that?¡± he asked of no one.


    LaCroix answered from somewhere in the dark. ¡°It¡¯s the mutineers. The ones who allied with Abner. Captain¡¯s got them all chained up below. I was wondering when they would start singing.¡±


    ¡°Why would they sing?¡±


    ¡°What else are they going to do down there?¡±


    Dobbs nodded. He supposed that made sense.


    He spotted Isaacson walking close to him. Dobbs briefly made eye contact with the bald, burnt-faced fellow. Isaacson had the look of a man with a guilty conscience, but also of patiently allowing his predilections to play. Dobbs watched the man carefully as he went to his hammock. With Abner gone, with the sun gone, he suddenly sensed, the way we all sense when foul men feel an opportunity arise, that Isaacson might try to bugger him again.


    But I have LaCroix close by. And Jenkins and the others won¡¯t let him. They¡¯ll stop him. Like last time. I have friends here.


    Then a voice in his head said, But you¡¯re one less, because you killed him. Poor, poor Abner.


    Moments later, he heard the Frenchman snoring again. Dobbs laid back down, closed his eyes, and prayed for Abner¡¯s forgiveness. The sun did not shine in his dreams, nor did the moons. All he saw was Abner drifting down, down, down into cold black waters. He had hold of Dobbs¡¯s leg, and would not let go. The mutineers kept singing, and now they were loud enough that ¡°Leave Her Johnny¡± slid into Dobbs¡¯s dreams. And Abner kept pulling him down, down, singing all the while. The old quartermaster would not let go. He could carry a tune, though.

 Chapter 12: Land Ho!

    rum and beer ¨C The Royal Navy¡¯s official ration is as follows: a half pint of rum and a gallon of beer every day, twice again should a prize ship be won or an enemy vessel sank. It is typically more on pirate vessels. Pirate crews stay drunk most of the time.


    THE JOURNEY WAS arduous. The two ships ploughed through choppy waves like blunt tills through thick soil, battling the sea. The sea only kept heaving, with sometimes twelve- and thirteen-foot swells that reminded them all of the squall. But the cold wind became even more powerful and it drove them in exactly the direction they wanted to go: ever west.


    The Lively maintained the lead, and by careful seamanship and piloting was she able to navigate around troublesome cays that were tortured by the heavy tide. The hours crept by, first five, then twelve, then thirty, and still no sign of a sun. The moon and its new brother both appeared again from another horizon, which was troublesome, because it only underscored their plight. The moons were spinning around the globe faster than the sun (if there truly was a sun) could rise. The stars continued moving slowly, but soon no one could see them, for heavy clouds moved in. And this was a relief, though no one mentioned it, because it concealed the stars and the moons and, at least for a while, gave the impression that all might be normal.


    Over on the Hazard, the crew was industrious, and of course they drank. Hour after hour, they drank. Rum and beer were passed around upon request. Okoa checked with the Ladyman, who only encouraged them to drink more. If it gave them courage¡ªand it seemed to¡ªor made them sleep more¡ªwhich it did¡ªthen let the rum flow.


    They maneuvered through a vast sea tormented by a cataclysm no one understood. ¡°Leviathans!¡± shouted the lookouts on both of the vessels. The captains of both Lively and Hazard rushed to the main deck with the rest of their crews to see the creatures. The shadowy humps of whales, dozens of them, erupted from beneath the surface and crashed all around them. Men commented that it seemed like they had gone mad. Dolphins soon joined them. Then marlins and sharks, which leapt out of the waters like they were trying to escape something. One of the men of the Hazard leapt into the water, laughing and crying, and was never seen again.


    This new phenomenon lasted almost an hour before the sea creatures settled and vanished. Hazard and Lively ploughed on.


    Days could not be counted properly, only hours. Men on watch flipped the hourglass, again and again, watching the sands fall but no sun rising.


    The clouds lingered and there was a storm of freezing rain. It lasted an hour, and the waves were far too large for such a minor squall. When it finally dissipated, both ships were battered and had to reef all sails and conduct repairs on yardarms and rigging. The prisoners in both bilges were working constantly in shifts, which they organized themselves to keep Lively and Hazard from sinking.


    They sailed on, into the unending night.


    A distant light appeared on what ought to have been the third day. It shone brilliantly, a sparkling pinpoint of pale blue light that some of the men thought was yet another moon, but it moved too fast across the sky. It left no trail like a shooting star ought. It was first spotted on the southeastern horizon, and appeared to plunge into the sea on the northwestern horizon. Aboard the Hazard, Anne Bonny stood upon the bowsprit, naked. She said she had had a dream about the strange object in the sky, in which it spoke to her, and told her that only a woman¡¯s nakedness could keep evil at bay. No one questioned her. As always, they let her be.


    Aboard the Lively, Collins, the man who had been on the watch the first night the sun had not risen, and who had been the first to report the sun¡¯s absence, went missing. Two crewmen saw him walk up to the quarterdeck at what the glass said should have been three in the afternoon. One of the men thought he heard a splash, though it was difficult to tell, what with all the tall waves slapping against the hull. Two of the prisoners in Lively¡¯s bilge got into a fight, and one of them drowned the other in the frothing, filthy waters. Vhingfrith took the body from Jacobson, who repeated his vow he would one day see the captain swing from a gallows. Galbraith said nothing, he only stood behind Jacobson, his face saying he backed the first mate.


    Vhingfrith tossed the dead body into the water. Men started asking the captain why they had not yet reached Jamaica. ¡°The island ought to be visible by now, oughtn¡¯t it?¡± they said. Captain Vhingfrith told them to be patient, and they eyed him as he retreated back to his cabin and barred the door.


    Night rolled on, and the two ships plunged deeper into a world they did not understand. Secretly, every crewman began to wonder that, if the days had become longer, perhaps the seas had too? Perhaps this phenomenon was not only one of the skies, but of the seas and land, as well. Perhaps the world had been stretched, they said.


    Aboard the Hazard, a man named Rothlis emerged as a replacement for Abner in religious foretellings. Nobody knew much about him, besides he was a carpenter originally from London, who had served in the Navy and worked closely with the chaplain of the Winfield. He had been picked up by Hazard when last she was at port, and had remained quiet and lonesome all this time. But now he began reading from his Bible by candlelight during his off-shift. At first, Rothlis only read aloud to no one but himself, but soon others were gathering round, quietly listening, shushing anyone that interrupted him. Rothlis was the first among them to mention the firmament.


    ¡°It comes between us and the sky, ¡®between the waters and the waters,¡¯ the Scripture says,¡± Rothlis told them all.


    More than once, someone would ask, ¡°What does it mean, between the waters and the waters? That makes no sense.¡±


    ¡°The waters below us, and the waters above,¡± Rothlis explained, looking up. ¡°They were once one, and in the beginning, the water would overflow, like a basin. So, God had to place something between the waters deep below us, like a stopgap, ye see?¡± He spoke at first in whispers, knowing full-well the Ladyman disliked religious talk aboard his ship. But with the slow passing of the stars, the man became bolder, because he knew the Ladyman could not afford to lose any more crewmen. ¡°Yes, brothers, the firmament is what the Lord placed deep below the seas, to keep the waters below the firmament from rising. But that firmament ascends farther, into the sky, for it is a dome upon which the stars sit. This is our problem, ye see, brothers? D¡¯ye see? The firmament, it¡¯s been damaged, blackened by¡ª¡±


    Rothlis went quiet whenever Captain Laurier strolled through the room, or whenever he could be heard just down the companionway. But if Rothlis thought he was above suspicion, then he was a fool, for Laurier had seen too many men lose their minds, had watched them crack and spew nonsense, and he knew that a healthy crew did not shush one another when the captain was near.


    And Laurier also had a few secret weapons, such as LaCroix, Dobbs, Okoa, and Akil. Akil was a killer, Laurier soon realized, after watching him carve off the end of a broken yard with a knife, and then use that same knife to make the notches for the replacement, and again when he carved up the battens to put around the hatches. The African was especially good at sharpening. And when Laurier looked Akil in his scarred face, in his eyes, he saw only a barren coldness there, as well as a fortified mind. Laurier knew he¡¯d chosen wisely when assigning Akil the task of killing Abner Crane.


    One night, Laurier invited Akil into his cabin, along with Okoa to translate. He offered them both wine, which Akil declined, with a few words in his tongue. ¡°He say he thank Captain,¡± Okoa said. ¡°But his father warn him long ago, wine robs men of their good sense.¡±


    John said he understood and invited both men to sit. Hazard was still swaying, though not as heavily as a few hours ago. In this room, they spoke of Akil¡¯s people. John wanted to know how far he had come, and how had it happened that he became a slave. Akil said he was from a place he knew only one English word for: the Cape. He could not point it out on the globe. He said he grew up in the Cape, along with three brothers and six sisters. His father was a war chieftain, and Akil inherited his father¡¯s office when he came of age. His mother died of a mysterious illness, and his father was murdered by unknown members of another tribe. Laurier listened patiently as Okoa translated every word, invigorated but also mystified by the tribal order of kingships and family lineages.


    But it was already clear he had been right, Akil was a warrior. More, he was a kind of prince.


    Akil described a Dutch colony along the Cape, which had expanded quickly over the last three decades, and during that time, there were many clashes between the Dutch and Akil¡¯s tribe, called the Hadza. Akil claimed the Dutch had started by first slaying the Hadza, then enslaving them, and once the Hadza fought back, the Dutch created a false story that it was the bloodthirsty Hadza that started the war, which, Akil later learned, allowed them to legally take the survivors as prisoners.


    The Dutch took only these ¡°prisoners¡± at first, and once there were laws in place to allow those prisoners to be quickly transferred out of Africa, many of the Dutchmen began to claim to be victims of violence. They would claim a Hadza boy struck them in the street, or a Hadza woman bit one of them, or a Hadza man had robbed a street merchant. Any justification to put them back in chains and sell them.


    John listened intently, and asked Okoa to explain to Akil that he would describe his own folly that brought him here. And Akil listened patiently as John Laurier explained his upbringing in Kent, how he was always hated by his father, beaten mercilessly, unlike the rest of his siblings. John never understood why his father hated him so. Then one day John trespassed on a neighbour¡¯s property, and the old man held him at knifepoint. Furious, the neighbour lashed out at John, beating him and saying that he was not his father¡¯s son, that his mother had whored around, that he was not in fact the son of Benedict Laurier. John had not believed him, but once he confronted his mother about it, she sobbingly confessed the truth. Benedict Laurier had already known, and this was likely the source of his hatred for John. ¡°I was a constant reminder he had been cuckolded by another man,¡± he explained.


    But the Ladyman went further, and was bold enough to admit he had had other problems, such as having trouble reading. ¡°The letters appeared backwards to me, and so my learning was severely stunted. My mother had a sister who had worked with troubled children in London, and sent me to learn from her. It helped. But it was in the city where I also found an even greater shame to bring on my family.¡±


    John did not go in depth, he only mentioned that his first love¡¯s name had been Joshua, which he had to explain to Akil was a masculine name in English. Once Akil understood, he gave only a slow nod. John continued, explaining how he changed his name for a time, ran away with a friend named Ellis and joined the Royal Navy, and would likely have remained forever in England¡¯s service had it not been for a chance encounter on the ship HMS Equinox, when he crossed paths with a legendary pirate, and his fate was forever altered. The Equinox was nearly sunk, and it was fortunate he and his friend Ellis had survived at all.


    ¡°But it was while I was stuck there on that pirate ship,¡± Laurier said, ¡°that I found out who I truly was.¡± He leaned forward to look Akil in the eye. ¡°And you, Akil, do you know who you are?¡±


    He spoke briefly, and Okoa translated, ¡°He say, ¡®I never forgot, Captain.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Good. Very good. You and I are survivors. And if we wish to continue surviving, we must stamp out what poison England has put into the minds of many of these men, up to and including their religious predispositions.¡± And so he told Akil about Rothlis, giving every detail about why this man was dangerous. Then he said, ¡°You helped send the quartermaster on his way, but that was easy. He was old and unprepared. Some of the men¡­they may now be wary of me.¡±


    Akil needn¡¯t be asked what to do next. He only nodded and spoke to Okoa.


    Okoa nodded. ¡°Akil say, ¡®Leave it to me.¡¯¡±


    Hours later, a cry came from the mainmast. That was the last sound Rothlis made as a rope mysteriously snapped during a particularly raucous storm, and he fell into the water. Akil and two of his African friends had been up in the mainmast with him. They reported that they saw Rothlis fall, and then they shouted some of the few English words they had memorized: ¡°Man overboard!¡±


    But, of course, Rothlis was lost in the waves, utterly swallowed by the same black waters that had taken so many of them. If any of the crew suspected Akil and his people of murder, they never made an accusation. There were certainly those that saw the Africans hovering near Captain Laurier, almost like personal guards, and while some of the crew mumbled about this observation, they never began formulating a plan against the captain. The Ladyman had successfully cast a spell: Plot against me at your peril.


    Laurier learned the names of the other five Africans that followed Akil: Bogoa, Femi, Lethabo, Omari, and Hakim. He told Okoa to make sure they understood they had all earned Rothlis¡¯s shares now, as well as part of the captain¡¯s own, and that they would receive more for any other services rendered while en route to Jamaica. The Africans were astonished they would ever own any gold coin or other plunder, and Okoa made sure they knew how rare and generous this was, that no other besides the Ladyman would ever be this fair to them.


    The Ladyman had made strong new allies. But he had a new problem. Rothlis was gone, but talk of the firmament was just beginning.


    ____


    It was then nine days since the phenomenon began. No sun had appeared, only the two moons. On both ships, the crews huddled together whenever they were off-shift, to share warmth and talk and sometimes to pray. There was no ice or frost growing on the gunwales, nor on the sheets or yardarms, but the cold was cutting deeper¡ªan invasive enemy, patient, willing to wear down their defences over time. They kept turning the glass, watching the sand pour from one end to the other, and they kept track of the hours and still called the passage of twenty-four hours a ¡°day,¡± though the sun remained gone.


    And they saw no ships. That was perhaps most disconcerting, for it was common out here in the busy Caribbean seas to spot other ships traveling through, to occasionally catch a sail peeking over the horizon¡ªthe moons ought to have provided enough light to see that.


    Men spoke of the firmament while they worked, when they ate, before they slept. Laurier knew he could not prevent it, but as long as it did not swell into bouts of despair or melancholy, he would allow the men to think whatever they wanted. But he knew it was going to get harder, especially since Jamaica remained stubbornly nonexistent. The damned island would not appear on their horizon! The moons came and went, but no island. No island of any kind.


    Aboard the Lively, Captain Vhingfrith struggled with the same. One crewmen slit his wrists and jumped into the water in full view of everyone. Men were beginning to ask, out loud, to the captain¡¯s face, if he was certain he had not made a mistake in navigation. Without the stars, and without any landmarks, they were having to sail in the direction the compass said was west. Vhingfrith assured them all would be well, and that the winds had merely ¡°veered¡± them off a little. ¡°So we are having to circle back around, isn¡¯t that right, Mr. Dawson?¡±


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    ¡°Aye, sir,¡± said the helmsman, maintaining a unified front for the sake of morale.


    That mollified them some, but still they pestered Vhingfrith whenever he walked about the main deck, or passed through the companionway, or checked on Jacobson and the prisoners in the bilge. And those prisoners sang at almost all hours, and their singing disturbed the crew to no end. So the crew pestered Vhingfrith more, demanding that he do something about Jacobson and Galbraith and all the others. Some of them claimed that since Jacobson had proven himself a Judas, he ought to be slain. ¡°Might that not appease God?¡± one crewman said.


    ¡°Appease Him to what end?¡± the Devil¡¯s Son queried. ¡°You still think He¡¯s the one robbed you of the sun? For love of all things holy, man, you sound like one of the Carib tribes, thinking that by tossing someone into the volcano you can bring good luck.¡±


    The crewman shied away, and went to his hammock to sleep.


    Vhingfrith was soon locking himself in his cabin again, if only to be away from their prattling and begging and crying. Frustrated, he went back to the main deck and signaled the Hazard with a gunshot, and used light signals with the lanterns to indicate he wanted for them to dock again. When Vhingfrith came aboard the Hazard, he was surprised to find himself relieved, and that he actually felt safer on the pirate vessel than he did his own brig.


    Neither captain spoke of their last intimate encounter, nor the argument that had followed. They remained focused on the charts, the rutters, the logs. John mentioned it was funny to him that they had come across no other ships, and Benjamin merely dismissed it as coincidence. ¡°Besides,¡± he said, ¡°these are pirate latitudes, it is not all that uncommon to go weeks without seeing anything besides a sail on the horizon, people fear running into your kind. And in this permanent night we cannot see everything.¡±


    They both looked out the rear window, at the two moons, the pink one slightly faster than the white one, which seemed now to follow it like a little brother, though it was the larger.


    ¡°What if we¡¯re the only ones left on Earth, Benjamin?¡± John asked.


    Ben looked at him, but deliberately ignored the question. He asked, ¡°Have there been any more problems with your crew?¡±


    John explained the firmament, and only said that the man spreading this theory had died by accident during the last storm. If Benjamin suspected him of foul play, he said nothing. He paced a moment and scratched his days-old stubble and said, ¡°If you are representing Rothlis¡¯s words accurately, then the man had it wrong. At least, that is not the true interpretation of the firmament from Genesis.¡±


    ¡°What is the firmament?¡± John asked. ¡°Is it a story that would explain all of this?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly, no.¡± Benjamin had on an extra coat to keep himself warm, and it made him appear bulky, even brawny. It was almost comical to look upon him this way. ¡°The Scripture says that the sun, moon, and stars are in the firmament, and that the firmament is a dome, across which all heavenly bodies are moving, including the wandering stars, and what some call planets.¡±


    ¡°Is it possible Rothlis was on to something? Might the firmament be ¡®blackened¡¯ like he said?¡±


    ¡°The Scriptures are filled with contradictions, John, which is why so many men have given it varying interpretations. The authorship of every book in the Bible is questionable, and many of its claims about the Universe were obviously made by spurious men.¡± He shrugged. ¡°But name me one historical document that isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°So, what is your conclusion, Captain?¡±


    Vhingfrith ran a hand over his face and stared at the pink moon racing across the heavens. ¡°The firmament has no rooting amongst the cultivators of science.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Who knows what happens if a bird flies high enough, and reaches the limits of the heavens? Who knows if there even are limits?¡± Vhingfrith was plagued by dark thoughts that had been circling his dreams, and what little sleep he was getting was therefore incomplete, unsound, and oftentimes tortuous. At all times he sensed a dagger pointed at his back. And there were dreams that included John Laurier, swimming naked in silk sheets, and Ben¡¯s own father warning him to flee to Massachusetts Bay.


    ¡°All right, here¡¯s another question, then. Why have we not reached Jamaica?¡± the Ladyman asked.


    Vhingfrith began pacing again. ¡°If we believe everything da Vinci said about planetshine is true, and if we believe Anaxagoras was right when he said two and a half thousand years ago that the moon does not have its own light, and if we believe that Newton was correct about the alterations the moon makes on our globe¡¯s rotation and tides, then the heavens have been altered in a predictable way.¡±


    ¡°What way?¡±


    ¡°Rothlis may have been wrong about the firmament¡¯s exact position¡ªfor Genesis says it comes between the ¡®two waters¡¯¡ªbut he may have been right about some medium that comes between us and the stars. If we assume all of these things are true, then the days themselves may not be the only thing that has lengthened. Perhaps also¡­the seas have been stretched. Time. Space?¡± He shrugged.


    The Ladyman winced in consternation, and waited for an explanation.


    ¡°I did not want to tell you this,¡± Vhingfrith went on. ¡°But the island cay where we tried to careen?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°It was a little more than a hundred miles beyond where it should have been. At first, I thought it was merely a miscalculation on my part, one brought upon me and my navigator Mr. Fuller by the exigencies of our situation, by the panic in our own hearts, which we all endeavoured to hide, I as much as anyone.¡±


    Laurier was astonished, and felt a little betrayed. ¡°So then, where is Jamaica?¡±


    ¡°Captain, I am asked every waking moment where Jamaica is, please do not add to that fugue of voices.¡± Vhingfrith sighed. ¡°All I can say is that both Mr. Fuller and myself are confident we have navigated to the best of our ability, considering the changes in wind, the changes in the stars, and the chaotic currents, the latter of which seems to obey no rules set down in the rutters of other captains that have previously been in this region.¡±


    John looked out the window with him. ¡°Christ, Ben, we¡¯re alone in the dark. Lost in an unending cave without another soul in the world.¡±


    Vhingfrith ignored the frightening comment. He paced a moment before concluding, ¡°If the first cay we came to was not where it ought to be, then it stands to reason Jamaica itself may not be where it¡¯s supposed to be, either. It may be miles further on, or it may have been pushed north of us by several hundreds¡­thousands of miles. It may¡ª¡±


    He cut himself off.


    John nodded. ¡°It may not even be there.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And the cay we came to¡­¡±


    ¡°May not even be the same cay we were looking for, yes. It may have merely been another anomaly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m almost afraid to ask, but what would that mean for the cay you were looking for?¡±


    ¡°Sunk to the bottom of the ocean, swallowed by a kraken, how the bloody hell should I know?¡±


    ¡°Ben?¡± John said. ¡°What in God¡¯s name is going on?¡±


    ____


    On the tenth day, they saw lights on the horizon, which danced and swayed across the tumultuous waves. Up in the Hazard¡¯s crow¡¯s nest, Jenkins swore it matched the profile of a man o¡¯ war, but as they sailed towards it, the lights dimmed, then winked out entirely, like candles being snuffed. They sailed a bit southward to see if they could find it again, but if it had been any kind of ship, they saw no more sign of it.


    Two more men leapt into the waters to their deaths, one from each ship. The crews were getting small enough that both captains were having to join in with their crew to reef and hand. Captain Laurier made the decision to toss some of their ballast overboard, as well as some of the extra cannon shot they had taken from the Nuestra. This would keep them from sitting too low in the waves. All men were drenched at all hours, Lively and Hazard were enduring waves like they would in a prolonged storm, and the cold winds only grew stronger.


    Meals were prepared aboard Lively by a man named Maxwell, and aboard Hazard by ol¡¯ Reginald. Both men were somewhat lame with old injuries, and, following the tradition of the sea, these otherwise terrific seamen were made into ship¡¯s cooks. Aboard both vessels it was difficult to cook and prepare meals in near darkness. Light was scarce, since both captains had ordered lantern oil and candles to be used sparingly¡ªno one knew how long the night would last. Most meals were hominy grits, weevil-riddled hardtack, and bits of salted pork, with ample portions of beer. The prisoners had to be fed, too, but they were only given half portions. This made them sing louder, in protest, to keep the rest of the crew from a good rest.


    Aboard the Lively, men still had some semblance of order, but aboard the Hazard they were getting used to overindulgence, and they ate to have something to do while trying to sleep, and vomited because their rum-filled bellies sloshed in the violent waves.


    The singing from the prisoners in both ships became loud enough some nights to be heard all across the waters, even above the waves. Perhaps it was a concerted effort to annoy the men above, to drive them insane enough to release the prisoners. It did not work, the two captains held fast to their crew. But it gave them sleepless nights. Or days. Or whatever this was.


    ____


    Neither ship had been allowed to properly careen and repair, and so they began to suffer more hardships, stemming from the damage they took from Nuestra. It was Hazard that fell into trouble first.


    ¡°Come into the wind,¡± John commanded. ¡°Let loose all sails.¡± That brought them to more or less a halt. Lively saw their plight and came into the wind about two hundred yards ahead.


    Sheets were torn and needed replacing; extra beckets were laid to confine the ropes from being caught in the wind; extra bibbs were bolted to the mainmast to support the trestle-trees; the trestle-trees themselves needed replacing when they began to snap; the prisoners in the bilge worked the pumps at all hours, and both John and LaCroix joined them to drive more oakum into holes that had been made by the Nuestra¡¯s cannons, and were reopening; the rope that led from the ship¡¯s wheel down to the rudder became frayed from so much overwork, and had to be replaced, which took several hours with Hazard thrashing about; canvass was resewn; carpenters worked at all hours, syphering bulkheads and prioritizing one repair over the other.


    John gave them more rum, more beer, as much as they wanted. He shouted at them, ¡°I want the task done within the turning of the glass! And nothing of gimcrack quality, you understand, gentlemen?¡± They barely muttered their solemn acknowledgement. They were exhausted, at their wit¡¯s end, operating now more out of habit than anything. More than one crewman commented that if this was indeed Hell, it made sense they would be forced to sail for all eternity in fear of darkness.


    A kind of madness took over. The crew on both ships were singing at all hours, as were the prisoners down in the bilge and in the spare hold. Fights broke out on the Lively, one man was stabbed but survived his wounds thanks to Mr. Tyndall. The Hazard¡¯s men sang ¡°Drunken Sailor¡± over and over. Not to be outdone, the Lively¡¯s men repeatedly sang ¡°Bend the Sails Away.¡± And louder. The two crews started competing to see who was loudest, shouting their songs across the water at each other, until some began to lose their voices.


    The sea frustrated them as they got underway once more. They were swamped by waves, and they pitched even more fiercely when both moons were in the sky, and the sea responded angrily. One more man went overboard from the Lively, though it was never clear whether it was purposeful or not.


    The next time the moon rose, it did so alone. Everyone noticed, and everyone commented. Where was the pink one? The moon they had known since children, that mankind had known since its earliest primitive cradle, was once more alone in the sky. Not long after it appeared, the waves became much less choppy, the seas calmed for the first time in ten days. There was cheering, and singing, and drinking. The men were soaked in more alcohol than seawater, but they were happy.


    Aboard the Lively, Captain Vhingfrith breathed a small sigh of relief, but he never let his men stray from their duties.


    Aboard the Hazard, Captain Laurier took the wheel from Kepler and allowed the men their celebrations. It was Jenkins, still up in the crow¡¯s nest, who spotted a trio of small cays.


    On the eleventh day, they careened on one of these cays, and waited for the tide to become low enough to tilt both ships. The men went to shore, and the captains agreed to release only half their prisoners to help with the work of lashing ropes to both ships and tying them to trees and using pulleys and winches to lean them more to one side.


    LaCroix led the repair work on Hazard, while Gibbons (one of the only carpenters still loyal to Vhingfrith) led the repairs on Lively. They had to work fast, for the tides were still not retreating as low as they ought. Men worked in ankle- and knee-high waters to repair holes on the outside of the hull, right at the waterline, where a few of the Nuestra¡¯s shots had found their mark. They did not get nearly as much work done as they would like, but the men were now chattering happily about the inevitable return of the sun.


    The two ships were careened within a hundred yards of each other, and both crews sang as one, singing ¡°Randy Dandy O¡± like never before:


    ¡°Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,


    Way ay, roll an¡¯ go!


    The anchor¡¯s on board an¡¯ the cable¡¯s stored,


    Timme rollickin¡¯ randy dandy O!¡±


    By the time the full tide returned the ropes were released and the ships were let go, back into the water, where they slowly leaned and splashed into the water, heeling heavily to that side that impacted, almost to the point it looked like they would sink. Then all crew were all aboard and headed away.


    The twelfth day was marked by more joy, for the moon returned again, alone, and the seas remained as calm as they should normally be. Some men brought up the Hellmouth again, but John Laurier did not much care, for now they were talking about how they had successfully sailed back out of it.


    Benjamin Vhingfrith felt a little easier about walking about the ship. Never would he have thought he would be so happy to see only a single moon in the sky, or that it should lessen the fear he had of the permanent curtain of night that had been draped over them. But the stars were still spinning slowly, with still no sight of the sun. But they are the stars as normally seen in the night sky. They are no longer distorted, he thought. That has to be a good sign, yes? A new theory formed in his mind. It¡¯s like a timepiece that hasn¡¯t been wound, slowly returning to its natural state of stillness. He now imagined that whatever they were passing through, it was more like a machine than a cave or a Hellmouth or even the firmament. We got tossed into it. And now, are we being spit back out?


    He made himself busy, to distract himself. The Lively had an elm-tree pump, a special piece of equipment that connected a bored-out trunk directly to the sea, and transmitted seawater back and forth, and the men used that seawater to swab the deck. Vhingfrith stripped to his waist and got on his hands and knees, since they were down so many men, and scrubbed the deck himself. He would keep the ship clean, on his life.


    On the thirteenth day, though, a light appeared on the eastern horizon, a kind of reddish-gold glow, and the men on both ships were screaming and tearing off their handkerchiefs and tossing them into the air in jubilation, for surely this meant the sun had finally returned. But that glow suddenly vanished in the span of a few breaths. It was like a great fire had been over yon horizon, and been snuffed out instantly.


    The men stopped cheering, and sailed on, a bit more glum than before.


    On the fourteenth day, the sun rose.


    ____


    John stood on the quarterdeck, watching the red-glowing, spherical ingot rise behind their ship. It came from the eastern horizon, just like it ought. Behind him, men were cheering. Screaming so loud he thought their lungs would burst. A captain ought to maintain order and composure, and so he did. But a captain ought also to rejoice with his men when it was called for, and so he flung his skirt off and stood naked on the railing and they all cheered. He looked over at the Lively, a hundred yards to their port, and could see crewmen dancing and hugging each other.


    John held back tears. He would rejoice with his men, but he would not let them see him cry. They couldn¡¯t know that he had also held the same fears as they. They couldn¡¯t know of his secret fear, for they already knew of his weakness for Vhingfrith, and were eager to hold that against him. But, for the moment, they forgot about his unnatural love for the Devil¡¯s Son, and danced with him. All of them danced.


    The sun was back.


    The sun was back!


    Surely they had only experienced some unnatural phenomenon, or perhaps even sailed through the Hellmouth. Whatever the case, it was all behind them now. The nightmare was over. Many of the men were already swearing off piracy forever, saying that once they were back at Port Royal with a pair of tits in their hands they were never setting foot off dry land again. By the bowsprit, Anne Bonny stood holding on to a stay. John noticed she wasn¡¯t moving, she just kept looking up at the sky, like she suspected the other shoe to drop any moment.


    Cannonfire! The Lively¡¯s crew fired her fore and aft cannons out of sheer celebratory bliss. Some of the Hazard¡¯s crew rushed to answer the same, but stopped when Okoa said it was a waste of cannon shot. Some of the men looked to the Ladyman, who still stood naked among them, with a solemn face. Then he cracked a smile and gave the order to fire off a single shot. The men rejoiced and fired perhaps more than a single shot.


    The last of the rum was drank. Beer was brought down to the prisoners in Hazard¡¯s bilge. Some of the prisoners were even allowed topside, while still kept in chains, to join in the dancing. Tomlinson brought out a fiddle, and Jenkins had a flute that he played badly, but everyone danced elatedly. Even Dobbs was out there dancing. The men invited the Ladyman to dance with them. He started to join them¡ª


    ¡°Land!¡± Anne Bonny cried.


    The celebrations were suddenly cut short. Everyone rushed forward in solemn silence. Their joy was soon sucked dry. Because they had found Jamaica. And they had never seen it like this.

 Chapter 13: The Mallory

    escutcheon ¨C The part of a vessel¡¯s stern where her name is written.


    THE INTENSE TIDES of the past fourteen days had not been kind to the shores, much of them had been ravaged, much like what was described of the earthquake of 1692. Trees floated in the water and smacked up against the hulls of their ships. Bodies, too. Men, women, and children floated face-down in the sea, along with animals, dogs and felines, sheep and other cattle, and a stupendous amount of debris from wagons, houses, and various buildings that had been by the shore when it happened.


    Anne Bonny determined they were looking at Jamaica¡¯s northeastern shore, which was not, she believed, exactly where the two captains meant to come upon the island, and questions soon arose about whether or not this was, in fact, Jamaica. But soon landmarks began to appear. Blue Mountain Peak was unmistakable in the distance, its shape distinctive as the sun rose higher. The stars began to recede. Stars, Bonny noted, that looked much more like the stars she was familiar with. We made it, Abner. We¡¯re back home. Out of the Hellmouth.


    There was rejoicing on her ship, and she could hear such cheering carrying across the silent waters, coming from the Lively. The men were never more certain than ever that this nightmare had passed. Anne wasn¡¯t so sure.


    Of anything.


    Ages ago, she had come to these waters with hardly a clue about herself, without even her true name. Anne¡¯s mother had been a servant to a man named William McCormac, a lawyer in County Cork, Ireland. McCormac was married, but apparently fell in love, or lust, with the fiery red-head working in his house. They had an affair, and when Anne was born, McCormac started dressing her as a boy and calling her Andy. Anne lived the first ten years of her life believing she was, in fact, a boy. But when McCormac¡¯s wife discovered his infidelity, she threatened to ruin him unless he divorced her. William McCormac surprised everyone by dropping the ¡°Mc¡± from his name and marrying Anne¡¯s mother, and the Cormacs moved across the ocean to the Province of Carolina.


    Life there was a trial, and its memory existed now as only a grey haze of events that sometimes seemed to have happened out of order. Anne¡¯s mother had been attentive and kind. She died when Anne was twelve, leaving her with a cruel father who, Anne suspected, saw only his own faults writ large in the features on her face. He ignored Anne until he was angry, and then he demeaned her verbally. Anne had been wroth with him, and lashed out. In an argument with a servant girl she suspected was fucking her father, Anne stabbed the girl with a knife, nearly killing her. After her father beat her bloody, Anne ran away, and took in with a man named James Bonny, who she married as soon as they were able to find a priest. She and James moved to New Providence, to live among the Republic of Pirates, where he had brothers already working as carpenters.


    And then other things happened, another grey haze she could not account for. It was as if someone had reached into her brain and surgically removed a chunk of her memories, and then jumbled the rest of them up. She remembered meeting a man named Jack Rackham, and she remembered Jack offering money to James to buy her. She remembered an argument, and a fight, and James lying in a bloody pool. And then she was with Jack. Her dear Jack.


    And then she was aboard the William and she was a pirate and she wondered if all that other stuff about her mother and father was only a dream. Had any of it been real? Perhaps that was why all this strangeness did not frighten her the way it did the others. It drew her in, hour by hour, like a song reaching its crescendo, she felt the final, logical conclusion was about to drop on top of her.


    Where is Jack? she asked of the sun. Where did you take my Jack? Is he in the same place where you were hiding?


    Presently, Anne stood at the starboard railing. Behind her, the men were all working the ropes and yards. She was not involved in any of it, and none of them paid her any mind. None seemed the least bit upset she was not helping them at the moment. Anne helped when she wanted, when she felt she was absolutely needed.


    She looked at her hands, callused and scabbed over from the days spent helping with reefing and repairs. The hands she ran through Jack¡¯s hair, across his lips and thighs. Where is Jack?


    ¡°Where is everyone?¡± someone muttered beside her.


    Anne looked to her right and saw Dobbs. The boy looked frightened of everything now. The sun had been stolen and then returned. What did it mean? Anne was prepared to believe it had no meaning discernible to men, but she could tell Dobbs wasn¡¯t ready for that. He needed answers or else fear would forever live in his heart. He was young, he hadn¡¯t yet learned to stop searching for meaning.


    ¡°It looks so empty,¡± said Dobbs. He winced, as they all did, in the sun¡¯s fresh light. It had been so long since they had seen the sun, their eyes could hardly take it.


    Anne took out a curved dagger, and pricked the blisters on her left hand. ¡°It does, doesn¡¯t it?¡± she said.


    ¡°Where did they all go? This is Jamaica! We should be seeing ships coming and going from Port¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sail ho!¡± They all turned as one, looking up. The call came down from the topman on the topmast. ¡°Sail ho!¡± he cried again.


    The Ladyman appeared from below and moved quickly along the gunwale, passing Anne. She stepped fast into his wake, following him to the prow. ¡°Where away?¡± he called.


    The topman shouted down, ¡°Three points for¡¯ard of the starboard beam! In the wind¡¯s eye!¡±


    The Ladyman headed for the binnacle, snatching up the spyglass from its leather case as he went. Anne could already see the dot on the horizon. The ship was big. The white sails made her easily visible on the south horizon. The Ladyman looked through the spyglass, said, ¡°Hmmm,¡± and then handed the spyglass to Anne without even acknowledging her presence otherwise. So many were either dead or made prisoner, it seemed Anne Bonny had unofficially been elevated to some sort of co-captain or first mate. Peering through the lens, Anne clicked her teeth in consternation. The ship was probably four or five hundred tons burthen, and fully rigged with three masts. A frigate, meant for war. Perhaps three times as large as the Hazard. Her masts were strongly raked, to give her speed. ¡°What do we do, Captain?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t see her trim from here,¡± he said, biting his lipstick¡¯d lip. ¡°Can¡¯t know if she¡¯s a nao or not. Good sighting, Paulson!¡± he called up to the topman.


    ¡°Thankee, Cap¡¯n!¡±


    ¡°What are we going to do, Ladyman?¡± Anne asked again.


    Laurier looked up at the fluttering sheets. ¡°In this wind, I calculate our speed with this cargo is about five knots¡­perhaps six. Ship like that, probably moves at ten. Which means if we ran she¡¯d be on us in an hour, perhaps a little more.¡±


    ¡°So, what do we do?¡± she asked, for the third time. She stood in his way, just as Captain Laurier had started to head aft.


    He looked down at her. His hands gently touched her shoulders, and then ever so kindly he pushed her to one side, and continued on. Anne watched him go. She wanted to kill him sometimes. Might do someday. But Jack had trusted him. Before he left her for good, Jack told her to find work with a trusted pirate. There were only two pirates that Captain Jack Rackham ever trusted, and the Ladyman was one of them.


    The ship swayed, and the shadows of the ratlines fluttered across the deck. Anne watched the shadows closely, mistrusting them. Then she looked at the oncoming ship, and hoped it was coming for battle. She didn¡¯t mind if she died soon. She wanted to be with Jack.


    ____


    Her escutcheon said she was the Mallory. John had heard of her before, a half-destroyed-and-then-refitted frigate, formerly of the Royal Navy, now belonging to the East India Company, if his memory served. A storied privateer¡¯s vessel that had raided two dozen Spanish ships and left one of them at the bottom of the sea. John forgot the name of the current captain¡ªit changed so often, the East India Company might supplant one captain for another, and for any number of political or logistical reasons. Mallory moved up alongside the Hazard, the two ships rocking lightly in the waves. John watched her heave to, eyeing the gunports closely as a few of them slid open. The men of the Mallory looked down from their top deck, towering above the pirate vessel, and threw down ropes. Between their two ships, John noticed, three or four bloated corpses floated face-down in the water. Two women, one man. And there was something furry, a cat or small dog. John wondered what hell Jamaica had suffered while they were lost in fourteen days of darkness. He wondered what madness all the islands had undergone in that time.


    Six men came over from the Mallory, including the captain, a barrel-chested man with a wig and who doffed his tricorne hat at the same time John removed his. They shook hands briefly. ¡°Captain Laurier,¡± said the big man. He gave a brief smile that showed several wooden teeth. ¡°Hollinger¡¯s the name. Pleasure.¡± He looked John up and down. John was now wearing a men¡¯s breeches but with his feminine cavalier boots, and his lips were lipstick¡¯d, and his eyes were blackened by coal. ¡°This is the Hazard, yes?¡± said Hollinger.


    There was no point in denying it. If the man had wanted to blow them out of the water and claim the reward for a pirate¡¯s head, he could¡¯ve done so. By coming aboard, he had basically given them the chance to take him hostage, but Hollinger also knew John Laurier wouldn¡¯t do that since the Mallory¡¯s gunports were open and aimed. This arrangement put them all more or less on even ground.


    ¡°This is the Hazard, yes,¡± John said. ¡°And that is the Lively.¡± He pointed to the ship coming up around the other side of Hazard. And there is the reason he is being so friendly. He saw a privateer and a pirate vessel sailing alongside one another, and didn¡¯t know what to make of it. ¡°Captain Vhingfrith is her captain¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know Vhingfrith very well,¡± Hollinger said, cutting him off and walking around him. ¡°In fact, it is fortuitous we should meet. I was given a message by a friend of his in Royal, and told that if I saw him, I should give it to him.¡±


    ¡°I see. What¡¯s the message?¡±


    ¡°Pardon me, Captain, but it is for Benjamin Vhingfrith.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    They both stood waiting for the ropes and planks to be put in place between Hazard and Lively. Hollinger tried and failed to not look at the Ladyman¡¯s painted lips and eyes. Then Benjamin came striding over to meet them, along with two of his men. Vhingfrith doffed his hat and tucked it under his arm smartly, and smiled as though greeting an old friend. ¡°David. How long¡¯s it been?¡±


    Hollinger shook his hand. ¡°Two years and nine months. I believe it was Christmas near the Governor¡¯s House.¡±


    ¡°So it was. By God, man, but it is good to see you.¡± Benjamin smiled wide and clapped Hollinger on the shoulder.


    But Captain Hollinger looked surprised by that, lifting an eyebrow. ¡°I¡­am glad to see you, as well.¡± Hollinger smiled, but also appeared uncertain. Something about his demeanor struck John as athwart. The man peered around at the pirates on Hazard¡¯s deck, and his eyes moved slowly, like he was counting them, like he was trying to figure something out. And something else struck the Ladyman¡ªThey do not appear to be in a panic. Looking at Hollinger and his men, as well as the crew peering down from Mallory¡¯s rails, he did not get the sense they were wary about anything besides pirates. And something else¡­what was it?


    It hit him.


    All our people are squinting because of the sunlight. Hollinger and his men¡­they appear to be just fine in the sun.


    John felt uneasy about that. He gave Anne a look, and she passed it to Okoa and Dobbs. Be ready. But he didn¡¯t know what they ought to be ready for. A nagging feeling held him, though. Hairs raised on his neck. John looked up. Gulls flew overhead, calling to each other. Peeking over the railing, he saw more corpses bobbing up and down, one of them face-up, a man¡¯s pale flesh and eyes facing the sky. Embers of fear still lived in those dead eyes. John looked farther out, saw fish jumping in the water. Everything seemed normal. Besides the corpses, of course, and the occasional debris from a destroyed cabin or hut. The world did not seem disturbed at all. What in hells¡­?


    ¡°¡ªand when I saw your transom, I knew it was you,¡± Hollinger was saying. ¡°I remembered the scraping we took when passing by those cliffs all those years ago, when you and I sailed to¡­eh, where was it? Oh, never mind. Never got that repainted, did you? Ha! Your father was the same way. Cosmetic damage bothered him none at all!¡± He chuckled, and removed a handkerchief to wipe his sweaty brow.


    John watched as Ben smiled politely and bowed almost imperceptibly. ¡°You recall him very well. My father was careful where he spent his money, true. Some thought him an impecunious man because of it¡ª¡±


    ¡°But I knew better! Haw! I knew he kept a stash somewhere on these islands. Somewhere on St. Kitts, I assumed. I tried to prise it out of him one night, over rum at The Quick Lady, but he never would yield his secret.¡± Captain Hollinger stopped smiling and looked around at all the pirates, as if suddenly remembering they were there. His eyes lingered a moment longer on Anne, and then he said, ¡°Bit undermanned, aren¡¯t you, Captain Laurier?¡±


    John pursed his lips, but did not answer immediately. Captain Hollinger seemed like a man who thought because his ship was bigger he was somehow more important, and could deny or admit people into his conversations whenever he liked. So John denied him that power. He let the silence last a bit too long as he just smiled and stared at the hulking man. Benjamin gave John a look, and cleared his throat. When John judged the awkwardness had lasted long enough, he sighed and said, ¡°We¡¯ve had our troubles, as I¡¯m sure you have.¡±


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Hollinger looked him up and down again. ¡°Lost some men, eh?¡± He nodded curtly as though he understood perfectly. ¡°You must have been in the thick of it, then.¡±


    ¡°We were.¡± John gauged Hollinger¡¯s mien once more, then looked back at his own men. The Mallory¡¯s men all seemed wary of pirates, perhaps even wary of the half-Negro captain with the glittering eye and rings, but they did not seem to have the same sallow-faced and horror-beaten looks as the crew of the Hazard. ¡°What was it like here, on Jamaica, when it happened? How many islanders dead?¡±


    ¡°Hard to say. It¡¯s only been two days,¡± Hollinger said, pacing about the deck, peering briefly down into one of the hatches. Two days? John thought. Something¡¯s not right here. Hollinger sighed, and wiped his brow again. ¡°But I do not think it was any worse than the storm we had last year. Remember it? What a witchy thing that was. These waves may have encroached upon the shore more than last time, but the damn fools who keep building their huts right on the sand got what they asked for, I suppose. Quite a few of them will never make that mistake again.¡± He chuckled, but remembered himself quickly and took on a morose look. ¡°Still, bad omens. God rest their souls, all.¡±


    But John was barely listening to that bit. ¡°Storm?¡± he said, looking around at Benjamin, who suddenly gave him a warning look. John knew that look. Ben wanted him to keep silent. But John had to say more. ¡°There¡­there was a storm? Nothing more? Nothing¡­unusual?¡±


    Hollinger snorted. ¡°Unusual? No. You lads must¡¯ve felt dipped in the scuppers, though. God in heaven, to be stuck out there when it was raging¡­it¡¯s a wonder both your ships survived. A wonder and a mercy.¡±


    ¡°Yeh didna see the two bloody moons?!¡± shouted Jaime. The Scotsman was up in the mizzenmast, both feet looped in the netting, looking down on all the proceedings.


    ¡°Moons? What¡¯s he talking about?¡± Hollinger said.


    Jaime started to say something else, but John shot him a look. He shot them all a look, and everyone remained silent, thank Christ. There was a low murmur among the crew that Captain Hollinger could not have missed. He squinted, wondering what he was being left out of.


    Benjamin came to the rescue. ¡°There was an illusion, out at sea. A most unusual thing. Likely brought on by the storm, but¡­for a moment, when the clouds briefly parted, it appeared exactly as though there were two moons in the sky.¡± Ben snorted out a laugh and shook his head. ¡°Damnedest thing I ever saw. Have you ever seen a thing like that, Captain?¡±


    Hollinger lifted an eyebrow. ¡°No, I have not. A singular thing, no doubt.¡± There were more murmurs, from both John¡¯s crew and the two men Ben had brought over from the Lively. They soon went silent, but Hollinger knew something was amiss. ¡°What¡¯s going on? What¡¯s got these men all rattled?¡±


    John smiled and said, ¡°Superstitious men, Captain Hollinger. None worse than pirates.¡± Let that change the subject. Though, John didn¡¯t know why Ben wanted the matter dropped.


    Hollinger gave him a sharp look, and it was clear the other matter was forgotten. ¡°Speaking on pirates. Do you know, a packet ship recently came into Royal carrying a list of names of men and women suspected of piracy.¡± He glanced around at the crew, at Anne Bonny, and back at John. ¡°England intends to crack down on such, eh, unaffiliated sorts. Lord Hamilton is in charge now, along with Woodes Rogers, who has returned from exile, and now controls the militia in Jamaica.¡± Hollinger looked back at Ben. ¡°In fact, it was Rogers who asked me to bring you a message, Captain Vhingfrith.¡±


    A blade of ice pierced John¡¯s heart, and he shot an accusation at Ben, who maintained his composure. ¡°What does my old friend say?¡±


    Old friend?


    ¡°That he has information on those two ships you were looking for,¡± Hollinger said.


    Ben perked up. ¡°The Coronado? And the Santo Domingo? Both of them?¡±


    ¡°He did not say the names¡ªyou know him to be a secretive man, as well as I¡ªbut he said when next you are in Royal it is important that you see him about it.¡± Hollinger glanced sidelong at John. ¡°And I¡¯ll just say this in the Ladyman¡¯s presence¡ªWoodes Rogers plans to begin a ¡®no pirates¡¯ policy in Port Royal. None at all. He wants ships to help patrol the bays, and he¡¯s asking for you to help him do it. He said to call it a favour for the information he has on the two ships you¡¯re after, but also says there will be repayment.¡± He leaned in close to Ben, but John could still hear. ¡°I say this as a friend. Rogers seems to be the last man in Royal who isn¡¯t bothered by your, eh, let¡¯s call it setback in Guadeloupe, and is also willing to look past your, eh¡­¡± Here, Hollinger appeared to walk an even tighter rope. ¡°¡­partnerships with other disreputable captains. As a favour to your father¡¯s memory, I tell you this.¡±


    John was seething. Not about Hollinger¡¯s words, fuck the old fat ox¡ªwhat he was upset about was the association between Woodes Rogers and Benjamin. John had never known them to be friendly. But he kept an easy smile plastered to his face. No good showing a lack of control now, not after keeping his wits and his sanity intact when facing fourteen days of night. But inside he was disgusted, and felt as betrayed as he¡¯d ever felt. Woodes Rogers was not only a hunter and a killer of pirates, but he¡¯d sworn to destroy the Republic of Pirates at their home in Nassau. That Ben was friendly with this man¡­


    ¡°Thank you for the message, Captain,¡± said Ben. ¡°Would you like to come aboard the Lively, share some wine for a moment? We took some nice casks from the Spaniards and I would love to repay you for¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Hollinger, who sniffed the air and seemed to find it putrid. He donned his hat. ¡°We would be well away. We¡¯ve got cargo to deliver and a ship of our own to find, the San Juan Bautista. She¡¯s out here somewhere, and we¡¯ve got a letter of marque from Governor Hamilton to sink her or take her a prize. But thankee, sir, for the offer.¡±


    ¡°Of course. But, before you go, Captain, do you have the time?¡±


    ¡°The time?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m afraid I lost my timepiece when we fought with the storm. Spot of bad luck.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll say. If you can¡¯t tell the time¡ª¡±


    ¡°May as well not know the tide. Yes, that was a favourite quote of my father¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°It was, it was,¡± Hollinger chuckled, pulling out his own timepiece. ¡°It is a quarter past the hour.¡±


    ¡°And the hour?¡±


    ¡°Of ten.¡±


    ¡°Thankee, Captain. I¡¯ll make sure I get another timepiece when I¡¯m in port.¡±


    They shook. It was perfunctory, done between captains, and, as Hollinger said, because of Ben¡¯s father¡¯s memory. Nothing more. These men could be colleagues but not friends. Never that.


    But is Benjamin friends with Rogers? John thought. He would soon get it out of Ben, even if he had to beat it out of him.


    ¡°Captain Laurier,¡± said Hollinger, as he swept past. ¡°If I were you, I would sail for Nassau or the Colonies, and never return. I¡¯ll just put it bluntly. Set foot in Port Royal, and you may soon swing from a gallows. That, also, is in honour of Benjamin Vhingfrith¡¯s father, who I know thought of you as a kind of friend. Even a son.¡± That was it. No goodbye, no shaking of hands. Hollinger and his men walked planks up to the deck of the Mallory, and moments later were reeling in lines and weighing anchor.


    Once they were off, John stormed across the planks to the Lively¡¯s deck and caught up to Benjamin just as he was stepping into his cabin. ¡°Shut the door,¡± Benjamin said, sensing John just behind him.


    John did so, and barred it, just in case. ¡°What was all that?¡± he demanded. ¡°Woodes Rogers? You¡¯re in league with Woodes fucking Ro¡ª¡±


    ¡°Contemptible man! I am not in ¡®league¡¯ with anyone! Now, be so kind as to shut up and let me think¡ª¡±


    ¡°Think about what? How best to play me? Eh? How to play me long enough that you and Woodes Rogers can hang me and Anne and everyone else by the¡ª?¡±


    ¡°¡ªit¡¯s just as I thought. I noticed it on Hollinger¡¯s face as soon as he came aboard. I saw it. He and his men have not suffered the same trauma as we have¡ª¡±


    ¡°Benjamin, tell me you weren¡¯t think of turning me in when we got to Royal. Tell me that wasn¡¯t your plan all along when you agreed to help me with the Nuestra. To get the double fortune of a nao¡¯s treasure and the bounty on our heads! Tell me that hadn¡¯t crossed your mind!¡±


    ¡°¡ªdon¡¯t have time for this¡ª¡±


    ¡°Well you¡¯d better make fucking time¡ª¡±


    ¡°Did you not hear him, John? For God¡¯s sake, did you not hear the words coming through his wooden teeth?! I know you couldn¡¯t have missed the truth!¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The storm, John! All that transpired here in the last fourteen days was a storm. Whilst you and I and all those poor bastards out there were running terrified through the fucking dark! With no sun! Two moons! Did we imagine it? Did we all just suffer the same fucking nightmare? How is it that we all went fourteen days without a sun in the sky, and yet the rest of Jamaica seemingly carried on as usual? How?¡± John watched as Ben tore open the rutters on his desk, and splayed out the charts that showed the Bocas del Drag¨®n, the series of straits separating the Gulf of Paria from the Caribbean Sea. He took a divider in one hand and a parallel rule in the other, and began to mutter while tracing their course. ¡°This is the course we originally travelled, just above the twenty-fifth parallel. And running from here, five hundred miles from Trinidad. It makes no sense¡­no damned sense¡­¡±


    John approached from the opposite side of the desk, and reached out and pinned Ben¡¯s hands to the oak. Then he took Ben¡¯s chin in one hand and lifted it so that they were looking into one another¡¯s eyes. ¡°Ben, tell me. How long have you and Rogers been allied?¡±


    Ben snorted. ¡°My God, John. Would you listen to yourself? We may have just experienced a phenomenon no other man or woman ever has, or ever will, and you want to know about pirate hunters and island politics?¡±


    ¡°Were I a more learned man, a more curious man, I might gift a fuck about strange phenomena.¡±


    Ben squinted at him. ¡°John, I¡¯ve always known you to be the ultimate pragmatist, but are you not at least interested in what we¡¯ve just experienced?¡±


    ¡°We are past it. It was¡­I don¡¯t know what it was, but it¡¯s gone now. It¡¯s over. What matters to me right now is what¡¯s right in front of me, the man I thought I could trust.¡±


    Ben walked away from him and tore open the window, which happened to face east. It faced the rising sun. ¡°There it is, John. You see it now, don¡¯t you? Were we hallucinating then, or are we hallucinating now?¡±


    John straightened. He sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know about Hellmouths or firmaments or whatever the fuck else may be chasing us. And right now I don¡¯t care. All I care about is finding out if the man I¡¯ve loved more than any other creature on Earth has been betraying me. Betraying me for fucking England, for gold, for the love of a country he¡¯s never set foot on.¡±


    Ben rounded the desk, and stood inches from him. Suddenly, he snatched John¡¯s face in his hands, pulled him close, and kissed him. Deeply. And held him that way for several moments. John couldn¡¯t breathe. In an instant, all was forgotten and forgiven. If it meant having the sun vanish again, so be it, he would rather be back there in Hell¡¯s eternal darkness with Benjamin than in a world flush with sunlight but no love.


    When Ben finally pulled away, he looked the Ladyman square in the eye. ¡°John, my love, listen to me. There is no power that binds me to anyone more than you. I hate you for it. I hate myself for it. But there sits your truth.¡± He kissed John again, held him there, then came away and said, ¡°But right now, we have a total of forty or so men¡ªcrew and prisoners¡ªthat are about to head gratefully back into Port Royal and tell everyone what they saw out there. You and I are deviants. There is no place for those such as us in their world. So, what do you think people will make of such a tale? What will the people of Port Royal do when they hear the Devil¡¯s Son and the John the Doxy led men into a fourteen-day darkness? Most will surely ignore them. But enough may believe them. Enough may believe you and I brought that darkness on these men, and that we may bring it on the people of Port Royal.¡± He shook his head. ¡°But now I need to figure on the time¡­¡±


    ¡°The time?¡±


    ¡°Yes, John. The time. Hollinger¡¯s timepiece said it was quarter-till-ten. Mine says it¡¯s half past noon. I dared not ask him the day, but it seems¡­time slipped. It wasn¡¯t just the sun, John. Don¡¯t you see? Time slipped past us! Or through us!¡±


    When Ben let him go, John stood there, rooted. His mind was swirling with conflicting emotions, yet he was aware Ben had effectively avoided answering his questions outright. Or maybe he hadn¡¯t. Maybe this was his answer to those accusations. ¡°What are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Ben said, looking back at the charts. ¡°I¡¯m going to stare at these bloody charts and look through these rutters until I come up with a workable excuse for why my men believe what they believe. You and I will send our most trusted people into port ahead of the others, to begin spreading information about a malady, a mind sickness, which passed amongst both our crews and made them all delirious for these last few days.¡± He squinted, thinking. ¡°We will say we caught it from the Spaniards. That ought to give it the breath of credibility it needs. Everyone in Port Royal already hates the Spaniards, and everyone knows the plague went through Spain not too long ago¡­¡±


    John nodded. ¡°Get ahead of it. Good idea. So by the time Jaime and the other loudmouths begin telling their stories¡ª¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t be believed. Hopefully.¡±


    ¡°Always with a plan, my love,¡± John smiled.


    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but your plans are different than mine. I¡¯m good at planning attacks and discerning the sea. You¡¯re better with men.¡±


    ¡°Not all of them.¡± He sighed. ¡°You know, I killed a man during our chase of the Nuestra. Shot him dead, right as he was going for a knife. He meant to murder me, Johnny.¡±


    Johnny. Ben had not called him that in years. He walked over and took Ben¡¯s hand, and was glad when it wasn¡¯t declined. ¡°What do we do after we spread your propaganda?¡±


    Ben sighed, and slumped in his chair, staring out the window at the rising sun. He let John keep hold of his hand. ¡°Then I speak to Woodes Rogers and get what information he has on the two ships.¡± He held up his hands placatingly. ¡°I know, I know! You don¡¯t trust the man, and you shouldn¡¯t. But if he¡¯s truly got a track on those two ships, then¡­¡± Ben shrugged. ¡°I may also speak to a man my father knew, who is recently returned to Royal, who often had work for him at sea. Perhaps I¡¯ll get us some work from him, harassing other, smaller ships while we spend months at sea looking for Coronado and Santo Domingo.¡± He shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯ve got for now. Perhaps one or two other things¡­¡±


    ¡°That sounds like enough.¡±


    ¡°And what about you, John?¡± Ben said.


    The Ladyman smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve got a bit of work that needs tending to, as well. Locally, not far from here.¡±


    ¡°But you heard Hollinger. You go into Port Royal, you could soon meet with a rope.¡±


    ¡°I know how to look out for myself.¡±


    ¡°Clearly.¡±


    ¡°You know, it wasn¡¯t too long ago Port Royal was Spanish-owned. When England took hold, they realized it was surrounded by Spanish fleet. So sweet fucking England, cunt that she is, relied on us pirates to harass and assault every Spanish vessel to our hearts¡¯ content. We established a nice little hub for ourselves in Royal. But now that the Spanish problem is getting under control, suddenly England doesn¡¯t want us around. She would like to forget the little stain we leave on her honour.¡± He shrugged. ¡°But England hasn¡¯t got us under control. Not quite yet. She¡¯ll get her comeuppance.¡±


    Ben shook his head. ¡°Amazing. You¡¯ve just crossed through the Hellmouth, or something very much like it, and all that concerns you is getting even with England.¡±


    In truth, Ben was wrong. John hadn¡¯t forgotten the last fourteen days at all. The second pink moon and that lasting darkness still haunted him, but here he was, back on firm footing of the shores of reality, holding the hand of the man he loved, and he might as well as address only what was ahead of him. ¡°Just because we went through Hell, Ben, doesn¡¯t mean our story ends. Oh no, it¡¯s only just begun.¡±


    ¡°But where will you go in Royal?¡±


    ¡°Why? Worried about me? What a famous thing that would be.¡±


    Ben said nothing.


    John snorted out a laugh. ¡°I¡¯ll be about my business. Shouldn¡¯t take too long. After that¡­who knows, perhaps I¡¯ll join you on your little hunt. If you¡¯ll have me, my love.¡± He kissed Ben¡¯s hand, then each of his ringed fingers, and finally released him. He turned and unbarred the door and stepped out into the companionway.


    ¡°When you say, ¡®have you¡¯¡­¡± Ben called to him.


    John looked back. Ben wasn¡¯t smiling, but his face was half in shadow and his cat¡¯s-eye glittered. John smirked, and considered staying. The invitation was there. But there was work to be done, and lots of it. He bowed slightly, and closed the door on his way out.

 Chapter 14: Port Royal

    Port Royal ¨C The capital of Jamaica, population approx. 8,500.


    THEY CAME AROUND the Southern Hook at a little past two o¡¯clock on what Vhingfrith assumed was September 5<sup>th</sup>. The wind was where he wanted it. Pure white clouds sailed evenly across the sky before them and they were moving at about three knots, he judged, with Hazard half a mile behind them. He stood on the quarterdeck, pacing behind Dawson, watching as the remains of the small village of Henley came into view. Henley was a quaint little fishing village that sat once perched on the stony, sand-covered edge of the Hook. Lively kept well away from the Hook¡¯s shallow shores, but Vhingfrith saw the crashing waves still tossing up flotsam and jetsam. The detritus of numerous huts and cabins that had once squatted by the sea were splashed onto the beach. The keel of a small fishing boat lay in the water upside-down, with no sign of anyone trying to retrieve it. Twenty or so black slaves moved about the shore, piling up salvageable wood while armed militiamen supervised. The militiamen waved, and Benjamin waved back.


    He looked at his timepiece. How did time slip past us? He ran his tongue along his teeth pensively, certain he was still missing something but unable to pin it down. Hollinger¡¯s account of things on the island, and his message from Woodes Rogers, both caused him consternation. On the one hand he might have the Coronado and the Santio Domingo within reach, and on the other hand¡­he and his crew had just passed through the firmament. Or some other medium like it.


    Pacing some more, Benjamin glanced back at the Hazard, and could not but acknowledge that his thoughts would be much, much clearer, were they not mired by the kiss he had given John Laurier before he left. After John left his cabin, Benjamin had sat a while in silence, neglecting his duties as captain far longer than he ought. He remembered kissing the Ladyman, and calling him Johnny, two things he swore he would never do again. And once he got up from his chair, he¡¯d found himself taking a razor and shaving himself carefully. Then he took a brush and thoroughly brushed his long coat. He brushed off his tricorne and shined his brass buttons, too, then took soap and oil and cleaned his leather boots, as well as the baldric that held his sword. Then he¡¯d fluffed out his lace-trimmed ruffles that stuck out from his sleeves. And then he¡¯d combed his hair back, flat against his scalp. The grooming was a kind of coping mechanism, but it also served another purpose. Soon, his image would need to be pristine. Soon, he would be on land, and the critical eye of both Englishmen and Dutchmen would be upon him.


    Benjamin kept glancing at the Hazard. Occasionally, he thought he glimpsed one of John¡¯s skirts flapping in the wind. The blue one. Benjamin had never really known why he dressed like that. John tried explaining it once, saying it was first a game, something to play with men¡¯s minds, and then it had turned into something else, something to do with self-determinism and some other metaphysical nonsense. But John could never fully explain his philosophy on that. Or, rather, would not, deepening the mystery of him. Vhingfrith imagined John in that blue dress. In those tall cavalier boots. His blue, daring eyes. His insouciant strut¡­


    Vhingfrith recalled Hollinger¡¯s words, and a terrible image flashed in his mind: John swinging from a rope. He cringed, and immediately banished the thought to the darkest corner of his mind and swore he would never look there again. He wanted John to stay away from Port Royal. He wanted to tell John to stay away. But somehow, in John¡¯s presence, the words could not reach Benjamin¡¯s tongue. John sometimes had that power over him.


    ¡°Contemptible man,¡± he muttered. ¡°Damn his eyes.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡± said Dawson.


    Vhingfrith sighed. ¡°Just remarking on the sun, Mr. Dawson.¡±


    ¡°God Almighty, but it¡¯s good to see it again, ain¡¯t it, sir?¡±


    ¡°It is, my old friend.¡± He looked at the portly old helmsman. He stepped closer to him. ¡°Before we go in, Dawson, I want you to know¡­I¡¯ve had few friends out here. I am not even sure I can count you as one of them, but you have been the most loyal. For that, at least, I thank you.¡±


    Dawson looked at him, surprised. ¡°Aye, sir. You¡¯re welcome, sir.¡±


    ¡°Should anyone ever make you an offer to forget your loyalty, make sure you come to me before betraying me, and I¡¯ll double whatever they¡¯re offering, in exchange for their names and locations. And if you should hear any rumours that you think could be advantageous to me, you¡¯ll find twenty shillings waiting on you if I hear about it before anyone else. Do you think this is a fair deal, Mr. Dawson?¡±


    Dawson gave an almost imperceptible smile. ¡°Aye, Cap¡¯n. I think it is a fine deal.¡±


    ¡°If I have ever had any occasion to commend you properly and failed, or elevated you and neglected to so it, be sure that it is only because of what we¡¯ve all been through, and I hope you will forgive me. That being said, be so good as to tell Mr. Maxwell to bring me tea, and you as well, if you need it.¡±


    ¡°I should like it of all things, Cap¡¯n.¡±


    Vhingfrith clapped the helmsman¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll take the steering for the moment. Carry on, Mr. Dawson.¡±


    A moment later, the man in the crow¡¯s nest cried out, ¡°Port!¡± And when Ben looked up, he felt both trepidation and relief fighting for supremacy of his heart. For there, coming within sight around the coastal bend, was Port Royal, the jewel of the Bahamas, the very heart of the Caribbean.


    Port Royal¡¯s beach was a twisted, intermingled, semi-organized mess of docks, wooden cranes, ropes that crisscrossed like spiderwebs, and boats of every size: xebecs, feluccas, settees, trabacaloes, and tartans. People often said that the dockworkers moved like ants in a colony, but Vhingfrith thought they rather looked like maggots writhing in a wound, seeking weakness and feeding whenever they found it. Treasure-hunters boarded sloops and headed east towards imagined shortcuts to wealth¡ªpiracy, robbery, raiding, plundering, or digging up the treasure troves Spanish captains hid all over the Caribbean like seeds. Wooden cranes moaned as they hauled cargoes on and off ships. Inlets like these, carved out from the island itself by millions of years of earthquakes and steady erosion, gave ships unrivaled access to both to the heart of the Caribbean Sea and the protection of Jamaica as a whole. Inlets similar to these were dotted all around the island, making it even more ideal for smugglers.


    Beyond those hectic docks rose Port Royal herself. One¡¯s eyes caught sight of the markets all surrounding the city, and then the eyes could not help but travel upwards to the flattened parts, to the two main forts at both ends, to homes and businesses made of both wood and stone, some of them surrounded, even connected by, scaffolding and the workers upon them. A thriving city. An evil city. A city constantly under construction. Its aspects varied¡ªfrom one angle it looked like several wooden-hut villages stacked on top of one another, and from another angle the old Spanish buildings and English stonework combined to make it look like a natural city of stone and mortar, and yet another angle might show you thatched-roof huts clinging to those stone buildings.


    A bizarre city.


    And you could smell it above even the seawater. Industrial odours and waste odours and animal odours.


    They were here. They had made it. They were home. Men were cheering all around. Ragged, exhausted men, all leaping and waving their caps. Even Dawson, who had kept his cool throughout this whole ordeal, forgot his tea a moment and tore off his skullcap and danced in circles, screaming joy.


    When they came near the shore, Vhingfrith called, ¡°All hands, bring ship to anchor!¡± The men obeyed smartly and a little clumsily. The anchor splashed into the sea. Boats were dropped into the water and nearly every man wanted shore leave, but Vhingfrith had to leave someone to watch the Lively. And so he left a skeleton crew¡ªGarrett, a co-pilot who had studied under Dawson, was left at the wheel, and a gunnery crew was left aboard, gunports open with cannons pointed away from the island, towards the south horizon, should any enemy vessel try a surprise attack on Port Royal. Lively joined three other sloops anchored there. It was tradition to keep a sort of honorary guard to defend the port if necessary.


    Following the plan he¡¯d concocted with John, Benjamin sent two boats of his most trusted people to shore first. He saw the Hazard doing the same. These people would not only send couriers to alert the Governor and his subordinates that new ships had arrived with treasure, they would also begin spreading the story of the ¡°mind sickness¡± that had made men aboard both ships believe they had gone two weeks without seeing the sun in the sky. He waited two hours to give those people a head start, then allowed the rest their shore leave.


    Next were the boats full of prisoners. Vhingfrith sent word to port authorities to have militiamen standing by to accept the mutineers. Jacobson and Galbraith glared balefully at him as they came up from the bilge, stinking and filthy, escorted, still in chains, to their longboats. Along with them was Gordon and Hoyt Burr, and Osterholm the Jew, and a dozen others that had once been loyal. As they rowed away, Vhingfrith was certain Jacobson never took his eyes off him.


    Benjamin was on the last boat to the docks. Once there, he and Dawson set up two tables and oversaw the dispensation of vouchers to the men who were keen on leaving his services immediately, which was almost all of them. He¡¯d lost two pursers and a purser¡¯s mate while at sea¡ªall three had been among those that went mad and threw themselves into the water¡ªand so he and Dawson had to handle much of the account-books. Benjamin sat at his table and tried to focus on the task at hand, all while his mind was still plagued by the mystery of the fourteen-day darkness.


    Looking around, it was clear no one in Port Royal was as bedraggled as his men were. They had been unaffected by the unusually long night, they had not seen the two moons, they had not witnessed the stars shifting.


    What the hell did we encounter out there? And how come no one in Jamaica seems to have experienced it?


    The men lined up to get their loan vouchers signed by Captain Benjamin Ulysses Vhingfrith, who would be responsible for paying them all the loans back to the banks, for they could not take raw treasure with them. Doubloons, tobacco, wine, spice, salt, and sugar were all handed over to the Admiralty Court, whose representatives were quickly present, dressed in bright red coats and shouting for men to go aboard the Lively and count everything. They checked his letter of marque and his embarkation papers, making sure he was who he said he was¡ªI should be surprised if there is another black privateer captain with a left eye that glitters like a cat¡¯s, he mused to himself, watching them watch him.


    He daren¡¯t make that joke in front of them. Everyone hated a clever Negro.


    The slaves they had taken from the Nuestra were kept close by. Vhingfrith allowed some of the auction bosses to see them before he gave permission to the militiamen to take the slaves to Marshallsea Prison, to be held there until he came for them. He made sure to get the names of the officers taking his slaves, and obtained receipts from each of them¡ªslaves were sometimes known to disappear in the hands of port authorities, and wound up on a plantation in Antigua or Barbados.


    As the slaves were being led away, one of them, a short man with large yellow teeth and a scar above his brow, stared at Benjamin. There was no love in his gaze, nor any venom, only a species of curiosity. Ben watched them go, knowing there was little that separated him from their plight, and returned to the account-books, and the line of men anxious to get their payments. Almost all his crewmen took their quittances, which said they were hereby under no further obligation to the Lively, its captain or its owner. They would all be fain shot of the Lively and her captain forever, he assumed.


    This process took nearly till sundown, and Benjamin wiped his brow when it was done and paid the dockmaster to allow the Lively to come in for repairs and refit. Wharfage fees were sometimes high, a ship usually couldn¡¯t remain docked longer than half a day. Dawson rowed back out to help Garrett pilot the ship into proper docking, then returned and shook hands with Vhingfrith before heading off to a brothel.


    ¡°Remember our deal, Mr. Dawson,¡± Benjamin said, as the man headed up the lane into the glittering lanterns hung from stanchions, into the vast sea of vice and sin that was Port Royal. ¡°Double what anyone else offers you.¡±


    ¡°And twenty shillings if you hear about it before anyone else. Aye, Captain. I remember.¡± Dawson smiled and put the second knuckle of his forefinger to his head, a rare salute given to the Devil¡¯s Son.


    Benjamin sighed and faced the city of Port Royal, the second-largest English city in the whole world. Now all you have to do is find an entirely new crew, Benjamin. But I think you know someone who can help you with that, don¡¯t you? Looking over the account-book in his hand, he had enough to buy a full crew and be ready to set sail in under a day, assuming the repairs went smoothly. But he wasn¡¯t just any captain, and finding crews to sail with him had always been difficult. Only the truly desperate sailed with the Devil¡¯s Son. But if there were ever a place to find desperate men¡­


    He headed up Queen Street, passing by the huge Customs House to briefly check in and let the port authorities know that Lively was theirs to check. Some of them were new to the job, but even those that knew him gave him short shrift. One even remarked, ¡°Where¡¯s your leash?¡± The boy looked like a fresh recruit, and the others silenced him with a look. Vhingfrith gave them all courteous nods and hoped it was enough. He always hoped that was enough.


    Passing the shore battery, Vhingfrith nodded to the man manning the guns. They did not acknowledge him. Feeling tense, he kept going, wondering if Woodes Rogers planned on meeting him somewhere close or if he was expected to go to the man¡¯s house.


    Port Royal was loud during the day, but twice as loud at night. Lanterns, torches, and candles hung from both wooden buildings and adobe huts. Lamplighters moved slowly up and down the streets on their horses, alongside old sailors with tar-stained hands, and militiamen who tried to keep some semblance of law and order. Dark doorways were often occupied by prostitutes in colourful makeup and dandy dresses. The men of Port Royal were surprisingly well adapted, not quite fine English gentlemen, but not wholly dregs, either. There were definitely pirates in tattered rags and covered in sores, even some walking about naked, but there were also men wearing breeches of crimson taffeta, as well as velvet doublets with gold buttons, and velvet shirts with gold lace.


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    Multistory brothels dominated much of Queen Street. Half-collapsed government buildings loomed over each lane like disapproving parents, eyeing you, warning that they knew what you were up to. Dark windows opened and pies were set out on windowsills to sell. A slave auction was just being wrapped up, two old black women that had not sold were being led by leather collars, and shoved into an enclosed wagon. They both looked at him with dead eyes as he passed.


    The heat of the night was strong, almost oppressively so, but Benjamin was glad of it over the alternative. After fourteen days of frigid night, he swore he would never complain about Caribbean heat again. God in heaven, is this real? Did we really make it out of the firmament and land back at home? It still felt surreal, and once or twice he found himself looking down at the ground which he trod, confirming its sturdiness, its reality.


    He looked back at the wondrously vile city, this beautiful city, taking it all in.


    Port Royal was a city built upon an older, collapsed city, one half washed away by the tidal wave of 1692. Parts of it resembled a shantytown, certainly High Street, with its three hundred-odd wood houses, sheds, and mud huts all crammed together. But built all around it were winding streets and even scaffolding that had once been used for repairs. That scaffolding now just sort of lingered, having become sort of like elevated roads going across rooftops. Bridges crossed a small inland river, in which bobbed pinnaces and canoes bringing supplies from Kingston.


    He walked by the gibbets, their ropes swinging gently in a breeze, awaiting their next customer. A drunk sailor bumped into him carrying a flagon of Kill Devil Rum, a trademark drink in Port Royal. The sailor looked at the half-Negro in captain¡¯s dressed and laughed and stumbled across Queen Street, then dropped his pants in front of the Governor¡¯s Mansion and pissed on the wrought-iron fence. Benjamin had been inside the mansion a few times, even had dinner there when Lloyd was governor, but that had been when his father was alive and most people assumed the young half-Negro was the old man¡¯s slave. Walking in there now would be nearly impossible.


    Walking inland meant going uphill. About midway through the city, he came upon The Quick Lady, a drinking hall that had stood since the time the Spanish owned this place. From this high vantage point, one could just make out Lime Cay, where ships usually let out their main sail and started gaining speed. One such ship was just heading away from port, vanishing into the thickening night.


    Turning south on York Street, Benjamin passed St. Paul¡¯s Court and came into the fish market, where men and women were still shouting from their stalls at this late hour, trying to attract customers before closing time. He saw Fort Charles, the only fort to be completely undamaged in the earthquake and tidal wave twenty-four years prior¡ªothers either half-sank or totally sank, and new forts had been placed around the port¡¯s perimeter.


    He walked as a man utterly alone in the Universe. The prostitutes wouldn¡¯t even touch him, nor offer themselves. They recoiled in disgust, like he had the yellow jack or the bloody flux. Revelers dancing in the street laughed as he went by, as if he were a joke. One drunken sailor spat on him and laughed. Benjamin stopped to stare at the man, and everyone around watched the moment transpire. Nothing else was done. The man stopped his laughing, and that was enough of an apology for Ben, who walked on, searching for The Golden Goose.


    He didn¡¯t know it, but he was being stalked by John Laurier.


    ____


    The Hazard never came into port properly¡ªshe remained anchored just offshore, gunports opened and cannons aimed south. As night approached, the Ladyman remained on deck with his crewmen, all watching a near-crescent moon appear in the sky behind raked clouds. How long will this night last? he thought. He imagined they were all thinking it. And will a second pink moon appear from behind the first?


    An hour passed. The night seemed ordinary. He still didn¡¯t trust it.


    The Ladyman disembarked on a boat by himself, leaving his ship in Kepler¡¯s capable hands. He took his prisoners ashore and released them. As pirates, they fell between the cracks of that jurisdiction only murkily defined by the Admiralty Court¡ªthey were not privateers, they had no letters of marque, and so the ill-fated insurrection and its participants weren¡¯t anything the court tribunals would care about. As far as they were concerned, it was criminals abusing criminals, and so the only punishment the Hazard¡¯s mutineers would face would be the damage to their reputations, affecting their ability to find a ship that would take them.


    So, the Ladyman went to shore with Akil and the other five Africans. He trusted Akil enough at this point, but there were still issues to surmount. His logic was this: bring the Africans into Port Royal to ostensibly act as slaves, leaving their shackles on, giving them every chance to witness Royal and see that he had not been lying when he said they would not be welcomed anywhere else besides his ship. That ought to help unify them to his cause. John also brought young Dobbs, but left Anne Bonny back aboard the Hazard, lest anyone get any funny ideas about taking the ship.


    Being a pirate, his loot did not necessarily need to be handed over to the Admiralty Court for surveying. Having secured his bounty without a letter of marque, John was under no obligation to pay the fifteen percent owed to the Crown. If he came into port, that could prove a problem, and militiamen might try and seize his treasure. That was why Hazard had to stay out in the water.


    Now he strutted down the lanes in full regalia. A white and black bodice pulled in his stomach and accented his muscular chest, and the red floral skirt occasionally whipped in a breeze and revealed he was wearing no pants, only women¡¯s lace and straps, all the way down to his boots, and his pale, shaved legs shone in the lanternlight. He wore red rouge and lipstick, and had his blond hair combed back flat, and wore his signature tricorne. Crisscrossing pistols on his belly and a cutlass at his hip warned anyone about making a comment about his appearance. But his reputation preceded him. This was the Ladyman, after all¡ªnot half as famous as Blackbeard or Black Caesar, but still recognizable anywhere on Queen Street or High Street.


    His tall leather boots were the most mannish thing about him, and they stomped up the mud-covered stone steps of the cordwainer¡¯s shop. The man who ran the shop was moving about inside with a candle, putting away all his shoe-making tools and shouting at a young girl to restock the shelves for tomorrow. John knocked on the doorframe and said, ¡°I¡¯ve come for shoes.¡±


    ¡°Come back tomorr¡ª¡± The cordwainer stopped when he turned and saw the Ladyman in his doorway, and behind him the six large Africans. ¡°Captain Laurier.¡±


    John smiled. ¡°Hello, Charles.¡±


    ¡°I heard you¡¯d returned. Billingsley said he saw your ship anchored.¡±


    ¡°I just came for my shoes.¡±


    ¡°Your shoes. Of course, of course, your shoes.¡± The old man snapped his fingers at the young girl, who disappeared behind a curtain. ¡°Just a moment.¡± When the girl returned, she had a shining new pair of cavalier boots, and Charles presented them proudly. ¡°There¡¯s a cushioning there, all the rage in Paris. That¡¯s what I¡¯m told, at any rate. Helps with the arches. Here, try them on! Try them on! I know you¡¯ll be happy! How was the sailing?¡±


    ¡°It had its trials.¡± John removed his boots and tried on the new ones, then took them off again and handed them to Dobbs. He clapped Charles O¡¯Brien on the shoulder and said, ¡°Now, what secrets do you have for me, old friend?¡±


    And so, Charles told him what he¡¯d collected.


    John then strode down High Street until he came to The Red Thread. He banged on the door three times until the seamstress and her husband came stumbling outside, the former with her pistol and the latter with his dagger. They both gaped when they saw him. ¡°Abby, Franklin, so good of you to take my business at this hour. Is my dress ready?¡±


    Franklin¡¯s Adam¡¯s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and Abby vanished wordlessly back into her shop, where she and her husband slept during off hours. John was allowed in, but told Dobbs and Akil and the others to keep watch outside. He handed Akil one of his pistols, and Dobbs the other. They both looked at him agog, and he winked at them as he shut the door.


    ¡°Here it is,¡± said Abby, who came limping into the living room on the wooden leg the Ladyman had secured for her six years ago. With consummate delicacy, the old woman laid the dress on a table and handed John a candle to inspect it more closely.


    John nearly gasped when he saw it.


    The dress was a single piece that flowed from neck to ankles. It was a yellow-and-red wonder, with frills around a plunging neckline that would look like flames as the wearer moved. The piece was a careful blend of wool, linen, and silk, with an elastic quality about the waist that allowed some room to breathe. The right sleeve was long, while the left sleeve ended above the elbow, and the whole piece was accompanied by white satin gloves with pearl buttons, and rough padding that would make it easier for them to grip a cutlass or pistol. A metal piece was woven into the back of the right hand, where a silver timepiece was inset.


    ¡°Is it everything you asked for, Captain?¡± asked Abby.


    ¡°Oh¡­oh, Abby. You¡¯ve outdone yourself. This is a masterwork. I dare to venture there isn¡¯t anything else like it.¡±


    ¡°In all of Port Royal, sir?¡±


    ¡°It all the world, sweet woman.¡±


    Abby smiled and covered her mouth with a hand. The woman was an artist, with a complicated history of how she had come from a popular street of seamstresses in England, only to wind up here in what was commonly known as the Wickedest City in the World.


    John said, ¡°Do you have something for me to put it all in?¡±


    ¡°I made something for you,¡± said Franklin, who dashed away and quickly returned with a small wooden box.


    After John had delicately placed the dress and gloves inside, he looked up to his friends and said, ¡°Now, what secrets have you to tell me?¡±


    And so they told him.


    The Ladyman floated out of the seamstress¡¯s shop, heading south towards Lime Street. A crack of gunfire sounded from some alleyway. Someone screamed. Sounded like a fight. John and Dobbs never broke stride. Akil and his friends looked around sharply, searching for possible attack. Remembering himself, he took the pistols back from both Dobbs and Akil and stuck them in his belt.


    ¡°What did you find out, sir?¡± asked Dobbs, hopping so as to avoid stepping into horse dung.


    John paused to let a wagon filled with straw and a dead pig go past, then continued down the lane. ¡°Just some corroboration of what Charles told me back there.¡±


    ¡°Which was what, sir?¡±


    ¡°That there is a trader who may have what we need to recrew and set sail for Porto Bello.¡±


    ¡°Porto Bello, sir? Why do we want to go there? That¡¯s all the way across the sea, and has only a small French fort, and not much else to recommend it. Unless I¡¯m missing something?¡±


    ¡°You are indeed missing something, little nipper.¡±


    ¡°What, sir?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll fill you in when I know more. All in good time, Mr. Dobbs.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. But what do we need this¡­traitor for? Who did he betray?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± John looked down at him and laughed. ¡°No, not a traitor. A trader. A tradesman who may have what we need.¡±


    ¡°What does he have that we need?¡±


    The Ladyman glanced back at Akil and the others, who were all busy watching out for an attack. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you later. But for now¡ª¡± He broke off when he saw Benjamin. It was impossible to miss him, the only black man dressed as a white on the street. He walked briskly and brazenly out in the open, and John paused for a moment, leaning against a lamppost, watching his love walk alone. Alone in a sea of fiends.


    Where are you going, Ben? John decided to find out.


    Picking up his pace, he bounded around the corner of a recruiter¡¯s office, closed at this hour.


    ¡°Captain, where are we going now?¡± Dobbs asked.


    ¡°Hush, Dobbs. And follow me. Akil?¡± John pointed two fingers at his eyes, then pointed at the throng of people around them. Akil winced, then looked around, and nodded, seeming to get the message: Keep your eyes peeled with these people.


    John climbed the steps of the Old Church, where he slid behind a wooden statue someone had carved (poorly) to look like the Virgin Mary, and spied on Benjamin Vhingfrith as he made his way to Lime Street. Dobbs and the Africans stood at the bottom of the stairs, receiving queer glances from the people passing by. Three militiamen, upon seeing only a small boy attending the six large Africans, started over. But when the Ladyman descended the stairs, and they saw he was with the Africans, the militiamen all hesitated.


    Dobbs looked afraid. The slaves too. Except for Akil, who seemed to sense violence was near and looked ready. The Ladyman recalled that the large man claimed to be a war chieftain for his people, and it was just one more reason he had brought Akil with him to shore.


    The militiaman with a white stripe on his collar stepped forward, a lieutenant with a rigid face. He carried a musket in his hands, its bayonet pointed vaguely at John. He started to say something, probably going to demand some sort of writ to prove the Ladyman¡¯s ownership of the slaves. But he never got that far.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± John said. ¡°I¡¯ve bedded at least one of you. I¡¯ll leave it for you to guess which of you it was. So either have a good evening and be on your way, or arrest me, because I do not have proof of ownership for these men. But know that when I am taken in, I will tell the tribunal precisely which of you is the sexual deviant.¡± In case that wasn¡¯t enough, John let his hand touch the curved handle of one of his pistols. ¡°I¡¯m also prepared to die. So there¡¯s that.¡±


    The lieutenant only got to open his mouth, and watched as John turned down Lime Street. John waited to hear a whistle, but was confident he wouldn¡¯t. Captain Hollinger¡¯s threat of more rigid laws notwithstanding, he believed Port Royal would protect him. He might be a man of the Molly-house, a sexual deviant who dressed scandalously and consorted with filth, but he was also a pirate. And Port Royal was a pirate¡¯s haven, always had been, and it would take a lot more than an oath by Woodes fucking Rogers to change it. If the militia laid a finger on the Ladyman, they might find themselves murdered on a busy street with no witnesses. It happened.


    The pirate code extended far, and protected any man or woman who adhered to it, even a blasphemer, because England was the greatest enemy of all, even above the Devil himself, and no matter what John Laurier had done, no matter what crimes against God he¡¯d committed, he was still a goddamned pirate.


    Another crack of gunfire came from somewhere in the distance, echoing through the alleyways. Drunken sailors and their ladies stumbled into the streets singing songs and dancing. Two men got into a fight near a pig pen, and while they were in wallowing the mud, twenty or so people started placing bets.


    ¡°Well?¡± John said to his friends, as they resumed following Vhingfrith. ¡°What did you all think of that?¡±


    ¡°It was nicely done, sir,¡± Dobbs laughed nervously. ¡°Had you really bed one of them?¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    Dobbs smiled. ¡°I think you played them. I think you lied, and that none of them wanted to find out that one of their own had laid with you. Or they were unsure if it was more than one of them, and so they couldn¡¯t call you out on it.¡±


    ¡°Hm. That would be very clever of me, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    Dobbs¡¯s smile widened.


    John looked at Akil, but the man wasn¡¯t looking at him. Instead, he was looking at half a dozen black men standing beside the road, wearing only loincloths and filthy jerkins. They were slaves, and each was carrying large bags of rice, looking beleaguered, with exhausted eyes gazing out at nothing as a white man on a horse trotted behind them, occasionally shouting for them to ¡°pick it up.¡± The Ladyman said nothing. He allowed Akil and his friends to see it. Let them see that my words were not meant to deceive. The closest thing they have to freedom is a little island called the Hazard. Let them see their choice.


    If the Africans wanted to leave him, John wouldn¡¯t stop them. But his ship wasn¡¯t built to sail to Africa and back, so he wasn¡¯t going to take them home, and, as he had told them, whatever home they had was likely gone, the rest of their families sold and strewn across the globe. If they wanted to become anything more than slaves, and if they ever wanted to secure freedom for themselves or their future offspring, then their legacy started here, now, as pirates. And they would have to fight for every ounce of their freedom. Sooner they figured that out, the better.


    And they also got to see, as it happened, how the half-Negro captain who had helped liberate them was treated here in Port Royal. With blatant disrespect.


    Viewing him from a distance, John¡¯s heart ached for him. He watched people mock him. Women pulled their children closer when Benjamin walked by, a prostitute made a gesture to ward off evil, and a pair of militiamen followed him closely, obviously waiting for him to slip up. John had often seen Ben this way, alone in crowds, hated, and yet somehow navigating it all like black waters. No wonder he held himself together so well for those fourteen sun-less days.


    Akil and the other five Africans watched all this in grim fascination. John could only guess at their thoughts. If even a ship¡¯s captain received no respect, even when he wore a white man¡¯s clothes and spoke the white language, then what hope was there for them? Where else in the whole fucking world can they go? the Ladyman thought. Where else but the high seas, the Caribbean, Nassau, to fight and plunder like Black Caesar? Where else can they go?


    Soon, John¡¯s plan would come to fruition. Soon, they would come to see the truth. The only choice was criminality. The only freedom was deviancy. The only life was a pirate¡¯s life. John had long ago accepted this truth, not long before he met Benjamin Vhingfrith. In fact, it happened right in the very drinking hall the Devil¡¯s Son was currently stepping into.


    John sped up. He wanted to know who it was Ben was going to meet.

 Chapter 15: Jack the Pickpocket

    a clap of thunder ¨C Any strong alcoholic drink.


    JACK PICKPOCKETED THE drunken officer and kept walking. She had seen him staggering, all alone with no one to help him, stepping down an unlit alley. She¡¯d approached quickly from the opposite direction and waited for the right moment to bump the fellow. She meant to utter an apology to play it off, but the redcoat never even looked back at her, he seemed focused on something else. Jack breathed a sigh of relief as she tucked the small purse into her jerkin, cut through an alley to slip away from Lime Street, and emerged into the Meat Market. Smells of fresh meat and blood. Wet hands, dirty brows. Fish all cut up, scales weighing the meat. Folk passing a handful of reales or shillings or doubloons or whatever currency the customer had. Port Royal took it all, just better know the rate of exchange.


    Jack followed the dogs. Packs of them roaming. Sniffing and begging. Like her. People in the Meat Market treated her the same. A stray, no home, better to keep away or might get bitten, savvy? Some days it was an advantage, some days it wasn¡¯t.


    Jack Weekes was small, and few people ever noticed her. Parentless, she was one of many forgotten children in Port Royal. The boys always found work at the docks, the girls did favours for some of the men in the warehouses. Jack was not interested in any of that. Her mother had died of some sickness and her father had sailed away on the Capricorn and, presumably, sank along with the rest of them. Her true name was Jacqueline and she kept her hair shorn to appear more like a boy. Her mum told her it was best. Fortunately for her, at twelve years old her breasts still had not come in yet and wearing boy¡¯s clothes completed the disguise.


    When she got to the Meat Market she found a place behind Mr. Cowert¡¯s stall and looked around to make sure no one was watching, then dropped her trousers and squatted in her usual place. When she was done pissing she cinched her trousers back and took out the purse to count its contents. The dogs sniffed the bag.


    Jack was disappointed. Usually officers did not carry much coins on them, because Port Royal was thick with pickpockets, but she¡¯d expected a redcoat to at least carry more than a dozen Spanish reales and a couple of shillings on his person. ¡°What the bloody fuck?¡± she said. ¡°Why even have a purse at all, bloody bugger, if this is all yeh bloody carry? Why not just keeps it in your pocket? Bloody fuckin¡¯ nonce!¡± Still, it might be enough.


    She thumbed her nose in the direction the officer had gone, then jumped when the door behind her shot open.


    ¡°Jackie boy!¡± said Mr. Cowert. The fat man stepped out into the alley, wiping his hands on his blood-covered apron. ¡°What in the world you doing back here? It¡¯s dark out, I¡¯m closin¡¯ up shop.¡±


    ¡°I came for it,¡± she said.


    ¡°Eh. You did, did you?¡±


    ¡°Aye. Do yeh still haves it?¡±


    Mr. Cowert laughed and scratched at his round pate. He¡¯d had to shave his head due to lice. ¡°Aye, I still got it, me. Do you have the¡ª¡±


    Jack held out the coins. ¡°I told yeh I¡¯d finds the rest.¡±


    Mr. Cowert sighed. ¡°Yeh did.¡± He scooped the coins out of her hands, tossed back one of the reales and pocketed the rest. ¡°This is enough. C¡¯mon, let¡¯s get you that piece. Though I don¡¯t know what exactly you intend to do with it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my business, codger,¡± she mumbled, stepping into the rear of the stall. The smell of raw meat filled the air, and Mr. Cowert guided her through the front of the stall, where he slept away his nights and awoke every morning to open shop again. Cowert was a butcher, a highly sought-after profession on the island. People from all over brought him their best meats. So much fish was served on the islands, a good slice of beef or pork was a treat, usually expensive enough that only officers or the visiting envoys of nobility could afford it.


    Jack had learned something about removing entrails in here. It had been her first job, which she obtained a week after her mum shook off with the angels. She had also learned that Mr. Cowert was once an apprentice blacksmith and keymaker. The man was highly talented, and in the last year Cowert had taught her a lot. As a widower, he did not have much else to spend his time on besides butchering, so Jack had sort of become a project of his. Jack suspected Cowert knew she wasn¡¯t a boy, but neither of them mentioned it.


    ¡°Here,¡± he said, reaching into a small chest-of-drawers in the corner where he and his wife used to sleep. ¡°Reckon you¡¯ve earned it.¡± He withdrew the flintlock pistol, along with a small pouch filled with gunpower and another pouch filled with shot. Jack had already paid for much of it with what money her mother had given her, and Cowert had been saving it for her. He held it above her head, just out of reach. ¡°Just for practice, right? And hunting?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± she said. But her father had already taught her to use one before he had left for good, and what Jack really needed was a means to defend herself once she set out to sea¡ªa plan long in the dreaming.


    The pistol was heavy in her hands, but not totally foreign.


    ¡°Just small vermin, forest critters. You bring ¡¯em to me, and I¡¯ll cut ¡¯em up for free. We¡¯ll have us some fine meals, Jackie boy. Mrs. Petter says she¡¯s got good potatoes, her. We¡¯ll share it all. Cook it up with them carrots there.¡±


    Jack reached out and grabbed Mr. Cowert¡¯s callused hand and shook it. ¡°Hutia stew again, old man?¡±


    He touched his nose. ¡°It¡¯s all in the seasoning, lad.¡±


    She smiled at him and started back out.


    ¡°Wait,¡± he said, and reached into another drawer. He withdrew a small leather satchel and a new pair of breeches and a white tunic, all washed and clean. ¡°Change out your clothes from time to time. Yeh stink, lad. No lie. To high heaven. Wash up at the well or at Matty¡¯s Motel once a week, and have her wash them clothes and just tell her to settle up with me.¡±


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Jack smiled back at him. ¡°Thanks, Mr. Cowert. But what¡¯s the satchel fer?¡±


    ¡°To keep the pistol in, so¡¯s nobody steals it. Wear it around you at all times and people¡¯ll think you¡¯re a page for the Admiralty Office or something. They won¡¯t touch yeh.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Thank yeh, sir.¡±


    ¡°Where you off to, now? We could play some cards if you¡¯re not in a hurry.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, but I think I¡¯m due fer a clap o¡¯ thunder.¡± She held up the shilling and winked at him. ¡°Fer the satchel.¡± Her father had always taught her to settle up.


    With that she turned and left the stall. Not far behind, she heard a shot go off. People were startled all around the Meat Market. Jack stopped and looked around at the other stalls and saw one man fall, clutching his belly. The man that shot him was a blond-bearded man who sort of staggered away drunkenly. The body was left there in the mud and Jack watched as others looted the corpse before she could even think to.


    She turned and cut through an alley, her feet splashing through mud and horse dung all the way to Queen Street. The dogs followed her.


    ____


    It was Jack¡¯s father that taught her to pickpocket. She didn¡¯t think he¡¯d meant for her to be a thief, it had only been a game between them. When the Capricorn was in harbour and he was getting shore leave, her father had squeezed as much time out of the day as he could to spend with Jacqueline and her mother. Fanorona was their favourite strategy game, but simple sleight-of-hand had been their preferred tricks to play.


    At first the game was only played around their home, which was a house built in a tree just outside Port Royal, not far out in the jungle. When they went out to check their rolling-snare traps to see what they¡¯d caught, her father would pickpocket the knife or the bait from Jack¡¯s pocket. Inside the house, they would sometimes team up to distract her mother, and with his tar-stained fingertips would he surreptitiously put objects into her pockets.


    ¡°That¡¯s called putpocketing, girl,¡± he¡¯d said with a wink. ¡°Won a few games o¡¯ cards with that one. Jes put a few cards in another player¡¯s pocket, then call him out, and all o¡¯ the other players thinks him a cheat.¡±


    Jack had played around with her friends George and Mory, both of them aged up to fifteen years now, sailed off on the HMS Hannibal and serving as loblolly boys. Proper privateers, them. But they had been easy marks for slipping a timepiece in or out of their pockets. Jack¡¯s father had been a wily one, always full of mirth and jokes, pinching his wife¡¯s bottom at nights when he thought Jack was asleep. During the days he took Jack with him to shop for materials in Port Royal¡¯s marketplace, and there he had taught her what he called ¡°the approach.¡±


    ¡°After yeh find yourself a mark, yeh simply intersects with them, not from head-on but from the side,¡± he said, holding her hand as they perused the stalls. ¡°If¡¯n they don¡¯t make a move to gets outta yer way, that¡¯s a good sign. Means their thoughts be occupied elsewheres.¡± Her father¡¯s speech became stranger the longer he was out at sea, Mother had even commented on it. She said it was because sailors usually had poor schooling and being around one another only reinforced foolishness.


    ¡°Yeh can¡¯t jes yank it outta their pockets,¡± he¡¯d said, guiding her over to a chair outside a coffee-house and nodding towards potential marks. ¡°Jes like at home when we plays the game, yeh have to look for the loose folds in the clothing, the soft spots. Tight clothin¡¯ makes it harder. Then yeh slip two fingers in¡ªthe thumb and forefinger¡ªand lightly prise the pocket open, only a smidge, jes to make it loose enough to slip the other fingers in. Not the whole hand. Never slip your whole hand in.¡± He¡¯d held up fingers, and kissed each fingertip. ¡°It¡¯s all in the fingertips. A light touch, girl, that¡¯s all yeh needs.¡±


    That was all she needed, indeed. Jack had once thought of becoming a sailor on a merchanter, just like her father, but the revelation that only pirates ever allowed women to serve aboard ships had put paid to all dreams of sailing.


    It was plenty dark out¡ªperfect time for pickpocketing. The next mark she found was on her way outside of the harbour city. It was a short, squat woman carrying a handbag, and she was walking parallel to Jack. Jack picked up her pace, carefully maneuvering in front of the woman, then slowing down to let the woman pass her. The timing had to be just right. Jack pretended to adjust the satchel Mr. Cowert had given her, and slowed down her pace even more. As she heard the woman approaching, Jack let her left hand hang beside her. She turned as if just remembering she¡¯d forgotten something, meaning to go back the other way, and bumped into the woman.


    ¡°Oh! So sorry, mum¡ª¡± Jack slipped thumb and forefinger into the handbag.


    ¡°Not at all, young man,¡± the woman chuckled.


    ¡°I guess I didn¡¯t see where I was a-going¡ªit¡¯s so dark out¡ª¡± She prised the top open and slipped her fingertips inside and snatched the first thing she felt and palmed it. Her father had taught her to palm a purse quickly and squeeze tight so that its contents didn¡¯t jingle.


    ¡°It¡¯s quite all right,¡± the woman said, and walked around her. ¡°Quite all right. Good evening to you.¡±


    ¡°And to you, mum.¡± Jack doffed her hand to briefly tip it towards her, and waited until she was outside the city to count her coins.


    The house her father had built was like many others in the jungle, it was high in a tree, with a crude wraparound porch that required a rope ladder to reach. After the many tidal waves had slammed Port Royal over the decades, lots of people had begun building their houses either on stilts or up in trees. Jack had not been alive for the last one, but her parents had told her it was a devastating thing to witness. The sea surging inland, water rising almost to the treetops. She couldn¡¯t even imagine it. Mum said sometimes hundreds would drown. She had asked her father, ¡°Then why did anyone want to build Port Royal where it¡¯s at?¡±


    ¡°No one knew tidal waves were such a threat at the time,¡± he¡¯d said. ¡°The Spanish built this place up first, and it became a huge port, very important fer trade. By the time the waves started hittin¡¯, it was too late, Port Royal was already settled, established as the main trade city in the West Indies.¡±


    Once up in the treehouse, Jack reeled up the rope ladder and stood for a moment at the porch railing. From here, one received a commanding view of the harbour. Soft moonlight rippled on the water. Sweeping her gaze west to east, she saw the main docks, the marketplace and main streets, and the Turtle Crawles, where an overflow of merchants and ¡°disreputables¡± (how her mother had referred to pirates) usually anchored.


    Jack entered the treehouse and sat on the floor, which had been made of slightly damaged planks taken from the ships her father had sailed on. It always made her feel closer to him when she sat and ran her fingers on the floor, along the bearskin rug he¡¯d been gifted by Captain Fennitch for bravery.


    She took the pistol out of the satchel and laid it on floor next to her, and wondered what she actually intended to do with it. Part of her already knew. Something had been building in her heart and mind for over a year now, perhaps even before Mum was sick. A knowledge that soon, perhaps very soon, she would have to leave. To where, she did not know, but already she was afraid that some change was coming¡ªher breasts would eventually come and her figure would become more womanly and there would be no more hiding.


    She had no real skills, none that were valued in Port Royal. Mum had told her those kinds of women became whores.


    She had to leave.


    But she needed a plan.


    Jack looked at the purse she¡¯d just pickpocketed from the woman and wondered, not for the first time, if Father hadn¡¯t been prepping her, as well. Had he known that eventually she would need such a skill? Why show her how to shoot? Why teach her the skills of a pickpocket? And why had Mother allowed it?


    Her stomach growled.


    She took an apple out of her satchel and took a bite, then pulled a blanket over herself and laid down, chewing, thinking. It¡¯s like they knew. But why make me a thief? I learned how to read, and I learned some maths. Didn¡¯t they think I was smart enough for anything else?


    She took another bite, chewed slowly, and eventually went to sleep wondering what in the hell she was going to do tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.

 Chapter 16: A Treasure Worth 300 Million Pounds

    all in the wind ¨C When all the sails are shaking.


    BENJAMIN DIDN¡¯T KNOW the big man¡¯s real name. The fellow had been around Port Royal for decades, he was here even when the Spanish ran it, and nobody seemed to know who he was or where he came from. His accent couldn¡¯t be placed, nor could his ethnicity, for his brown skin might only be from decades spent in the Caribbean sun. He was a grey-haired, corpulent fellow who some called ¡°Munt,¡± a Dutch word that meant ¡°coin,¡± but others referred to him as ¡°Cartera,¡± Spanish for ¡°purse,¡± and still others called him ¡°Dodum¡± but nobody knew what that meant. Vhingfrith sat at a table in the center of the stinking drinking hall, looking at Munt or Dodum or whoever he was, watching him tease the serving girls.


    Benjamin didn¡¯t know what to make of Munt. His father once described Munt as ¡°a very old and reliable business contact,¡± who had always been slim, athletic, strong as an ox, capable of beating men at both arm wrestling and dice games like Hazard and Rook, and lethal with a sword. Munt can be found with a woman on both arms at all times, his father had said, and always has about him a suave yet gentlemanly demeanor.


    Munt did not appear anything like that now. Whatever his mysterious origin, wealth and libations had cost him his figure. The chair Munt sat in moaned in protest whenever he moved, and his belly, which was the size of a keg and with equal capacity, rolled over his belt, which strained to contain his waist. But his shirt was of fine white silk, and his breeches were blue and neatly pressed, and his long fine hair, though greying, flowed immaculately over his shoulders.


    ¡°So,¡± said the man some called Munt. ¡°The Devil¡¯s Son returns to Port Royal! I hear a clever tale of you, one that puts you in league with cunning pirates, and that together you took down a nao all on your own! A singular thing, I should say. Very singular.¡±


    ¡°Fortune spread her legs for us, is all.¡±


    Munt¡¯s smile was perfunctory, and vanished quick as a dream. ¡°I also hear a worrying thing about some of the men under your command. Some of them are getting quite drunk in this very hall, and their lips are loose. All sorts of strange tales they tell.¡±


    ¡°We had an unfortunate malady while at sea,¡± Benjamin said. ¡°Many men saw many strange hallucinations.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I heard. A mind sickness. Terrible business. Terrible, just terrible. By God¡¯s divine mercy are you delivered, and so here you are. I can only assume you are here because of the letter I sent you a year ago. Though, I¡¯m surprised you waited this long to answer. I thought you¡¯d turned me down.¡±


    ¡°I simply needed some time to consider.¡±


    ¡°A year¡¯s a long time to consider a business partnership,¡± Munt remarked, accepting a new drink from a wench he hadn¡¯t even summoned. She also gave him a dish of crab and creole bread. The crab shells he cracked open with strong, fat fingers, and he slurped his food down with grog. Munt was now quite red-faced yet somehow managed to speak without a slur. And his hand shot out remarkably fast to snatch the wrist of a young boy, who had just bumped into Munt¡¯s chair. ¡°You¡¯re a handsome lad, I¡¯d hate to permanently ruin those features,¡± he said.


    Benjamin was shocked.


    The pickpocket was a boy of eleven or twelve, with brown hair and brown eyes. Just now those eyes were wide as saucers, and his free hand had slipped inside the satchel he carried around his neck. Benjamin was astonished at Munt¡¯s speed and alacrity, to have caught the boy¡¯s wrist so fast, like a snake catching a mouse. He squeezed, and the boy let out a girlish whimper.


    ¡°Do you understand me, boy?¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, sir!¡±


    ¡°Then leave here, and don¡¯t ever darken this establishment¡¯s doorway again.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡±


    Munt released him and watched the boy scarper off, out of the Goose. ¡°As I was saying, a year is a very long time to consider a partnership, Captain,¡± he said with a sigh. ¡°A very long time to consider a deal, indeed, especially one so lucrative as mine.¡±


    ¡°I was a while at sea. And even before that, I took my time looking into you. I like to do research on the men I aim to partner with. To ensure we start off as friends and not adversaries.¡±


    Munt nodded sagaciously. ¡°Marcet sine adversario virtus,¡± he said, and took a sip of his grog.


    Vhingfrith gave a curious smile. ¡°Is Seneca your ideal philosopher?¡±


    ¡°My ideal statesman, to be sure. And you?¡±


    Vhingfrith pursed his lips. ¡°I would say he is the model of a scholar intent on surviving. Oftentimes careful with his words. A man so successful at oratory that Caligula feared him, and sentenced him to die. Seneca only managed to survive by convincing the emperor he was sick and soon to die anyway. When Claudius became emperor, he again sentenced Seneca to die because of accusations he had an affair with Claudius¡¯s sister. Yet again, Seneca was able to orate and get the emperor to commute his sentence merely to exile, from which he eventually returned.¡±


    The fat man¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Upon my word, a scholar! It is a capital thing, so rarely indulged in this part of the world. Correct me if I am wrong, sir, but did Seneca not also attribute his survival to his patience?¡±


    ¡° ¡®I wish to avoid the impression that all I can do for loyalty is die.¡¯ His words, but perhaps I slightly misremember them. Quite the man,¡± Ben said, taking a sip of his own grog.


    ¡°Most fascinating,¡± said Munt, cracking open another shell and slurping its contents ravenously. ¡°And, again, correct me if I myself am misremembering, Captain Vhingfrith, but did Seneca not also believe that a man is strengthened by his enemies, that he is made greater in opposing them?¡±


    ¡° ¡®Valour becomes feeble without an opponent,¡¯ which I believe is the accurate translation of the Latin you shared a moment ago. But I believe, sir, and please take no offence¡ª¡±


    ¡°None at all.¡±


    ¡°¡ªbut I believe that you may be misconstruing, as many have done, the truest beliefs of the statesman. Seneca had no great love for collecting enemies. Indeed, many scholars interpret his beliefs as those of a man quite exhausted by it all, and wanting nothing more than to retire from the dreariness of politics.¡± Benjamin added, ¡°Perhaps that¡¯s why I¡¯m so fond of him.¡±


    ¡°Indeed? You astonish me, sir. You do seem well informed. But, once again, correct me if I am terribly wrong, but did he not also end up being executed by Nero?¡±


    ¡°Seneca was ordered to open his own veins, yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Then, does it not strike you, that as a man who, like yourself, abhorred gathering enemies, that Seneca himself should have so many men try to kill him over the many years of his life?¡±


    Benjamin was invigorated, almost to the point of paranoia. It had been a long time since anyone engaged with him in philosophical discussion like this. It felt like ages. Part of him sensed a conman. ¡°It is striking, sir. Very striking. Some of us try to avoid making enemies at all cost, yet the more we avoid them, the more we offend them by not giving them the time of day. Their self-importance demands that we at least hate them, if we won¡¯t love them. And so, they gather round us like flies.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°My father used to say that it is one of the greatest tragedies, that men may live and die, and during all their time strive to harm no one, and yet come to gather considerable enemies. That a man intending no harm at all to others may somehow offend. Indeed, it may even be in the intent of doing no harm that calls men of violence to do such a man harm. But I¡¯m repeating myself.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. And why do you think such violent men may do this thing to a well-meaning man? Why do so many evil men harbour such deep and aggressive feelings of self-importance?¡±


    Vhingfrith scratched his chin. It was something that had occupied his mind greatly over the years. Certainly, it had plagued his father, never more so than when he and his son had their philosophical disagreements. ¡°There you pose me, sir, because you ask me to speak for all men, which I am not equipped to do.¡±


    ¡°If you were to wager a guess,¡± the fat man said. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I must press you.¡±


    Vhingfrith smiled. He had long felt, as his father had, that debate is like a whetstone, against which you sharpen your own mind. And here this Munt was proving his point.


    ¡°If I were to guess,¡± Vhingfrith said slowly, ¡°I would then have to say that violent men hate seeing a man strong enough in moral character to turn away from violence, for he reminds them of their own weakness, of their inability to solve any problem with anything outside of violence. In short, violence is committed by foolish men. Stupid men. And stupid men hate nothing more than to be reminded of their stupidity, because stupidity is a limitation, and no man wants to be limited. Secretly, not even by God.¡± He shrugged. ¡°So, then, a non-violent man offends violent men by reminding them he has found another, simpler way to live, and that he rather enjoys it.¡±


    The fat man¡¯s eyes widened fractionally, then narrowed. ¡°You put my mind at ease, sir. You speak well for a Negro. Earlier you said your father spoke wisely.¡±


    ¡°He is the one who passed such wisdom on to me.¡±


    ¡°I see. And where did he obtain such wisdom? I¡¯m afraid I only knew him distantly, we supped together once or twice, but I never got to know the man closely.¡±


    ¡°My father took his degree at Brasenose College, Oxford.¡±


    ¡°I see. And what was his degree?¡±


    ¡°Law.¡±


    Munt leaned forward, eyes twinkling like a naturalist who has just discovered a remarkable new species of insect. ¡°I see, I see. But you became a plunderer.¡±


    ¡°My father turned to plundering himself, and taught me the trade.¡±


    ¡°I see, I see. It is very interesting, upon my word. A man of law taking an interest in plundering.¡±


    ¡°Plundering is legal, sir.¡±


    ¡°It is. It is, indeed, as long as you have England¡¯s interests in mind, and her enemies as your sole targets.¡±


    ¡°As I say, legal.¡±


    The fat mat smiled. Vhingfrith smiled back.


    Munt finished off his grog and ordered another goblet, and then one for Vhingfrith. Once he had belched and leaned back into his creaking chair, the fat man ran a hand through his long, thinning mane of hair, and belched again. ¡°I want to fund you,¡± he said bluntly.


    ¡°You said as much in your letter a year ago. But fund me in what, sir? Your other partners indicated you are an opportunist, one who takes on letters of marque and reprisal, but mainly for England¡¯s vengeance. You¡¯re a hunter of ships, but not always for Spaniards.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve done your research on me.¡±


    ¡°As I said before, some men are adversarial with their partners, and I wanted to make sure you are not one of them.¡±


    Munt took another long swig, and played with a single gold ring around a fat finger. ¡°A man familiar with Seneca must be well read. Your mother must have seen to your education with a keen eye.¡±


    ¡°My mother could hardly read herself, she was my father¡¯s slave. Initially. It was my father¡¯s diligence that taught me, as well as an English tutor. But my mother was adamant that I should be well read.¡±


    Munt didn¡¯t seem to care about all those details. ¡°If you are well read, then I wonder, have you ever heard of a man named Olivier Levasseur?¡±


    Vhingfrith tilted his head, thinking back. The name did strike a chord, and he searched deeply through memory and recalled the story told at the dinner table once or twice. His mother had just served up supper, which was almost always some variation on yams, guinea melon, okra, rice, millet, and sesame. The cuisine had followed her and her people from Africa, the recipes memorized. Vhingfrith¡¯s father adored her cooking, and even now, Ben could still smell the kidney and lima beans¡­


    But right then he was thinking about a conversation his father had had with a man named Collin Blakely, a one-time venture capitalist, and a friend of his who sometimes funded his privateering endeavours. Blakely never once went out to sea as a privateer, he simply gave his captains the crew they needed and paid for the insurance should the ventures go awry, and then waited on land for a return on his investment.


    But Mr. Blakely had been a well-connected man, an erudite who spoke many languages. Benjamin recalled Blakely complaining on a number of occasions about how some of his business contacts in Paris had turned against him, and how the French were souring against England once more. He went on to complain about how even French pirates were seeping into the Caribbean and harassing his privateers, who were trying to take down Spanish war vessels. ¡°The ship that plagues me the most,¡± Mr. Blakely had said, ¡°is one called Eug¨¦nie, and she is captained by a lethal fellow. A man named Levasseur, who some call La Buse¡ªThe Buzzard.¡±


    Had Munt never mentioned the name Levasseur, Benjamin would not have ever thought of it again. But now that the memory had been drudged up, he recalled it more vividly. Blakely complained about this man incessantly. Apparently, Levasseur had been quite the clever and lethal captain, commanding a small fleet of French pirates at sea, terrorizing France¡¯s enemies and even sometimes ships serving the French government. Olivier Levasseur was known for his largess, always giving away part of his treasure to the locals of the islands he came to, earning him fierce loyalty from the common man. He could hide almost anywhere, and none of the locals dared tattle about when or if they¡¯d seen him.


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    But he became too bold in his perceived invincibility, and turned his pirate fleet against the monstrous might of the French Navy, right on the cusp of the War of the Spanish Succession, just when France was becoming bold on the seas. Benjamin had been secretly captivated by the stories, begging Mr. Blakely for more details into the night, until Ben¡¯s father would at last silence him, saying it made him look worshipful of a devil, to be asking so ardently about Levasseur.


    But that was long ago, so long that Ben had almost completely forgotten about it. As he recalled, Olivier Levasseur¡¯s terror on the high seas lasted until a few months after he struck one of Blakely¡¯s ships. Then, one night, when Blakely and Benjamin¡¯s father had been drinking out on the porch, they¡¯d received a courier on foot. The courier was from the embassy, and delivered a letter, stating that Levasseur had been captured in the Indian Ocean, somewhere close to R¨¦union, and hanged in its main port of Saint-Denis. Mr. Blakely and Ben¡¯s father had toasted the hangman that night over more drinks, vomiting into the wee morning hours. Ben remembered his mother wordlessly wiping up all that sick¡­


    ¡°I do believe I know the name,¡± Ben said presently. ¡°They called him The Buzzard.¡±


    ¡°Then you know he was hanged some time ago,¡± said Munt. ¡°Twenty-four years ago next month, to be exact. The devil ran afoul of a French Navy captain, Toussaint, a terror of a man, clever and lethal, who lured Levasseur into a pincer by first hiding his ships behind a headland to the east of some large island, then springing on The Buzzard and smashing his fleet. Toussaint still roams the seas to this day, and in the same ship, Le Fier.¡±


    ¡°I was aware that Levasseur is dead, but not of the circumstances surrounding his capture. But what does a long-dead French pirate have to do with our meeting here?¡±


    Munt ran a hand over his smooth-shaven face, and now leaned forward. Again, his chair moaned in protest. He spoke sotto voce, though he needn¡¯t have bothered. The room was so raucous no one was going to overhear anything said between them. ¡°There is a story some men tell about Levasseur¡¯s last days on Earth. About his last words, in fact, just as he was led up onto the scaffold of where he was to be hanged. Have you ever heard this particular story, Captain Vhingfrith?¡±


    Benjamin searched his memory again. He vaguely recalled Mr. Blakely mentioning something about a necklace, and that, according to a tale told in pirate coves throughout the Caribbean, Levasseur had made some rude gesture to the hangman, and to the crowd, before throwing his necklace at them. And then he did something lewd. ¡°I believe he somehow managed to get his pants loose? Yes, that¡¯s right. And he pissed on the people in the front of the crowd.¡±


    ¡°But before that,¡± Munt prompted. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He removed a necklace and threw it into the crowd. And he shouted something. Something about a¡­eh¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what he did, Captain Vhingfrith, for it is now recorded by historians in both France and England, taken from accounts of men and women who were there. Upon stepping up onto the scaffold, ol¡¯ Levasseur tore off his necklace, held it high, and shouted, ¡®Find my treasure, the one who may understand it!¡¯ The it he was referring to was the cryptogram on his necklace. Seventeen lines. Seventeen lines of a cryptogram etched into the silver locket. Then Levasseur threw it into the crowd and dropped his pants. Then he pissed on the front row. Then he was hanged.¡± Munt cracked another shell, slurped it, and washed it down with more grog.


    Benjamin nodded slowly. Now that he thought about it, he did recall hearing that part of the story uttered somewhere. Then it hit him. It had been right here, in this very drinking hall, sitting right beside his father, across from a very handsome-looking man¡ªa man that Benjamin now realized, after some scrutiny, bore distant resemblance to the face swaddled in fat before him! The man sitting directly in front of him!


    ¡°I¡¯ve met you before,¡± he said quietly.


    ¡°You have,¡± Munt said, winking at him. ¡°Just the once. I was wondering if you were ever going to remember.¡±


    Benjamin blinked in wonderment. For a moment, it was as though he¡¯d traveled backwards through time. ¡°You were the map-maker, the one from Gotha.¡± Gotha was the world¡¯s center of cartography, map publishing, and exploration society. ¡°You bastard! You sat almost in this exact same spot, trying to convince my father of the same story. I only heard pieces of it because Father sent me away with a book to read on the far side of the hall¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, I recall it the very same way,¡± said the old fat man, chortling. ¡°I tried to convince him and Mr. Blakely to go. Only Blakely went, your father turned me down.¡±


    Benjamin winced, and shook his head. ¡°What do you mean? Convince him to go where?¡±


    With the smoothness and alacrity of a magician, Munt produced a silver locket in his hand. It dangled from his fingers by a silver chain. Benjamin squinted, leaned in, and saw lines of weird scrawlings, weird symbols he¡¯d never seen before. Seventeen lines. ¡°This¡­this isn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°It is. I did not have the actual locket back when I spoke to your father, only an etching of it. But that etching was old, incomplete. It took me a long time to secure this¡ªI found two forgeries before it, and almost got hornswoggled into buying one of them¡ªbut this one came from a man named Jacques Lavigne, grandson to Fran?ois Lavigne, the hangman¡¯s second, who assisted in Levasseur¡¯s execution on that day and who confiscated the locket for the French Governor.¡±


    Benjamin smiled suspiciously. ¡°You are joking, sir. Surely this cannot be the reason you summoned me a year ago?¡±


    ¡°Fran?ois later stole it after he was released from service¡ªfor stealing, as it were,¡± the fat man chuckled. ¡°He tried finding someone to help him decipher it, to locate Levasseur¡¯s lost treasure on his own, but he wasn¡¯t a sailor and didn¡¯t know how to run in those circles. So, he kept it. Because if he couldn¡¯t have it, no one else could.¡±


    Benjamin tapped the side of his goblet, never taking his eyes off Munt¡¯s locket. It was as shiny as if it had been made yesterday. At last, he looked into Munt¡¯s eyes. Never had he been more ready to call a man a liar. Yet rarely had he ever been more convinced of another man¡¯s belief in a pirate¡¯s tale. ¡°And Jacques Lavigne gave you this locket.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°He gave it to you.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And he did this because¡­?¡±


    Munt licked his lips, and leaned even closer, dangling the locket. ¡°Your father should¡¯ve warned you. I have a way about me. If a man wishes to retire, he must needs a purse, and a heavy one.¡±


    ¡°And you gave Lavigne such a purse?¡±


    ¡°Among other things he asked for, yes.¡±


    Ben leaned back in his seat.


    In his lifetime, Benjamin Vhingfrith had had to refine his ability to gauge the mien of men and women. Like a sextant or an astrolabe, made for judging the stars to navigate by, a person must also have sophisticated tools for discerning truth from fakery. With Munt, Ben had to know whether he was speaking to a human or a guise. His cat¡¯s-eye let him see things in darkness, but only savage treatment by others had honed his heart to detect lies. If the fat man was wrong about any of these facts, Munt himself didn¡¯t know it. Ben could tell Munt was being sincere. But madmen were often the most sincere.


    ¡°Whatever happened to Blakely after that?¡±


    Munt cocked his head. ¡°Blakely?¡±


    ¡°You said you sent him after Levasseur¡¯s treasure, when my father declined.¡±


    ¡°He never reported back to me. I never saw him again. And, as far as I know, neither did your father. Neither did anyone. There were two tropical storms that season, I¡¯ve always assumed one of them claimed Blakely. Poor fellow. God rest his soul.¡± Munt toasted the air with his grog, and sipped.


    Ben arched an eyebrow. ¡°Blakely never returned?¡±


    ¡°No, and I never heard from anyone who ever saw him again.¡±


    Benjamin was astonished. He had known Collin Blakely to have gone from his life, but he¡¯d never known about the man¡¯s fate. Of course, not a year or two after Blakely sailed away from Port Royal for the first time, Benjamin¡¯s father died by a scheme that was partially concocted by Diego Morales, captain of the Santo Domingo de Guzman. After that, Benjamin had been on his own, all his father¡¯s old contacts deserted him, and would not do business with a half-African who had no entitlement to his father¡¯s fortune besides ownership of the Lively. With his mother dead a year prior from flux, Benjamin had been alone. The last memory he had of their homestead was holding his father¡¯s head in his lap as his brains leaked into the soil. Collin Blakely¡¯s disappearance had meant nothing to him. Not back then. He¡¯d had more pressing matters to work out.


    ¡°Where did you send him?¡± Ben asked.


    ¡°Ah-ah. Not until you and I have an agreement.¡±


    Ben smirked. ¡°Because if you can¡¯t have the treasure, no one can?¡±


    Munt smiled, and downed the rest of his grog and belched, which apparently was the summoning call to the wench, who came by to refill his goblet. Munt secreted the locket away into the folds of his shirt, and returned to his meal for a moment. He seemed to be allowing Captain Vhingfrith to marinate on all he¡¯d said.


    Sipping his wine, Vhingfrith searched around the hall. The Golden Goose was a two-story monstrosity, mixing aesthetics and architecture from both the original Spanish owners and the current English ones. The tables were square, built from the local wood, but the chairs were wrought-iron Spanish design with legs that curled like a snake. The upstairs banister, upon which prostitutes and their pimps leaned as they looked down at potential customers, was carved to look like the railing of a privateer ship, or it might even have been taken from the shipbreaker yards on the other side of the island. A Spanish chandelier with crystal ornaments twinkled above. Various paintings of some English nobleman and his family hung from different walls. And there were throngs of humanity. Men stinking and filthy, and men somewhat well dressed, sometimes intermingling and sometimes fighting. Small-time political aides huddled in one corner playing cards, buccaneers crowded into the table beside them rolling dice. One of those buccaneers was a man that had been aboard the Lively. Fellow by the name of Kendrick. And every other buccaneer at the table was casting a glance in Ben¡¯s direction while Kendrick whispered something to them.


    They¡¯re talking about the long night.


    Amid that throng, something caught his attention. A sauntering form familiar to him, and a dress that revealed a man¡¯s clean-shaven legs. Dear God, please tell me he isn¡¯t¡ª


    But the Ladyman was there, and he was weaving himself through the crowd, making his way to the far side of The Golden Goose with young Dobbs and his six Africans in tow. Every eye turned to John Laurier, for how could they ignore him? He stood out like a peacock in a pigsty. Benjamin¡¯s gaze went down to John¡¯s footwear, then to his neck and hair. The gall of him¡­


    ¡°You¡¯re asking me to enter into the same venture as you had with Blakely, I take it?¡± said Benjamin, turning his attention back to Munt.


    ¡°No, not the same.¡± Munt wiped spittle away from his mouth. ¡°Different this time. I only sent Blakely on a scouting expedition, to confirm what I deciphered from one of the lines in the cryptogram.¡±


    ¡°What you deciphered?¡±


    Munt smiled sheepishly. ¡°You catch me there, sir. All right, I am not so clever that I deciphered it all by myself. But there is a person I know, a true erudite and scholar, who has made a lifelong study of the science of symbology. She once worked with ciphers, signaling, codes used by both Spanish and French sea captains.¡±


    ¡°She? Your codebreaker is a woman?¡±


    ¡°She is. She once worked for the Intelligence Office. Still does, from time to time. And she is quite certain we have a limited time to move on this.¡±


    ¡°And why is that?¡±


    Munt reached into his shirt and pulled out a piece of parchment with a wax seal that had been broken. ¡°Read it.¡± As Vhingfrith read what appeared to be a dispatch between a French naval captain and a French privateer, his intrigue grew. ¡°That was taken off a dead French sailor who washed ashore in Madagascar after a storm. An English patrol ship was briefly careened there. You can see for yourself, Captain Vhingfrith, the French Navy is on the move, a quarter of their ships are all in the wind. All their thoughts are now marshalled around finding this bounty.¡±


    Indeed, that is what the parchment appeared to say. Though waterlogged and damaged from being in the ocean, most of the letter was intact. And he was certain it was authentic, for he had seen proper French Navy dispatches before, having gone with his father to visit the French Embassy, which no longer existed in Port Royal due to the earthquake and tidal wave. Vhingfrith studied every word, even the longitude and latitude of where the French vessel La Louise was meant to rendezvous with other French privateers and begin a sweep of several islands in the Indian Ocean.


    ¡°This is real,¡± Munt said, taking another sip. ¡°The largest treasure hunt the world has ever known is underway, and only I, and a few high-ranking French, Spanish, and English officers know about it. Not even the elites here in Port Royal know what¡¯s about to happen.¡± He touched his shirt, where the locket had disappeared to. ¡°And only I have the upper hand.¡±


    He looked up at Munt. ¡°This could mean anything. They could be looking for a fugitive, a ship, enemy patrols.¡±


    ¡°Is any fugitive worth ten thousand gold doubloons? Is any scout ship?¡± said Munt, producing a second piece of parchment. ¡°I remember you speak French and many other languages. What do you make of that?¡± Now curious, Vhingfrith examined the letter closely. At first glance, it all appeared to be authentic. The seal of the French Navy at the top, the wax seal of Louis de Vinnu, Compte de Frontenac et de Palluau¡ªthe Count of Frontenac and Palluau¡ªwere all familiar to him. The lengthy letter was addressed to island governors in the Indian Ocean, and demanded ¡°all sails bent,¡± a code that meant all haste was needed, and that nothing and no one was to stand in their way of finding what the writer called ¡°the paragon.¡±


    ¡°Paragon is the code word they use for treasure,¡± Munt said.


    ¡°I know what it means,¡± Vhingfrith said. He read further down, and the letter showed a reward was being offered to any French privateer who could find the ¡°rocher peint en rouge.¡± He winced. ¡°A ¡®red-painted rock?¡¯ What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°My codebreaker has a notion. She says it¡¯s the last line on Levasseur¡¯s cryptogram, the one most easily interpreted, for the symbols bear resemblance to some form of corrupted Latin letters and cuneiform.¡± Munt chuckled as he took another sip of grog. ¡°Don¡¯t you see? The French government has secured part of the code¡ªprobably from a rubbing, like the one I had before I secured the true locket, probably an old rubbing, taken before Lavigne came into possession.¡±


    Benjamin pursed his lips, thinking. ¡°And you believe they¡¯ve deciphered part of the code?¡±


    ¡°What little of it they have, yes. Levasseur left the last line as a tease. It actually tells you what you¡¯re looking for: a red-painted rock. But, in order to find the red-painted rock, you have to first decipher the first lines of the cryptogram. My codebreaker believes she¡¯s done that, at least partially.¡± Munt let that simmer. ¡°So, what about it, Captain? Will you be my confederate in this hunt?¡±


    Benjamin looked the letter over again.


    ¡°I assure you,¡± Munt said, ¡°I would only be a background partner, a sort of ¨¦minence grise, if you will.¡±


    ¡°You mean the hand behind the curtain.¡±


    Munt drank, shrugged, nodded, and belched.


    ¡°You want me to sail in a hunt for¡ª¡±


    ¡°A race, Captain. Let us be clear. Like chariots of old,¡± he said, eyes glittering with intrigue.


    ¡°A race, then. You want me to bend all sails to race against the three largest, most powerful navies in the world, to hunt a treasure that may or may not be where Levasseur teased?¡±


    Munt kept smiling.


    Benjamin skimmed the letter once more, then sighed and handed it back. ¡°Why me? Why not ask someone else in Port Royal? Why ask the Devil¡¯s Son, who cannot even muster a crew worthy enough to sail, let alone trusted? Why ask the Devil¡¯s Son to be your confederate in a matter so urgent?¡±


    Munt smiled over his goblet. ¡°I¡¯ve no art for sailing myself. And there¡¯s not a privateer can pilot or navigate like you. I¡¯ve heard the stories, Benjamin. Your pre-eminence in the fields of charting and map-reading is well established, as is your reputation as a leader, and your commitment to see a job through is second perhaps only to what your father¡¯s was. All these other privateers¡­they¡¯re just waiting for a letter of marque to give them a convenient target, something close by. And pirates? They cannot be trusted as far as you can throw them.¡±


    Benjamin nodded. ¡°You need someone loony enough to travel far, on what is potentially a wild goose chase.¡± He smiled. ¡°Ironic we are meeting in The Golden Goose.¡±


    Munt shook his head. ¡°It isn¡¯t wild, Captain. This is no goose.¡±


    ¡°So, what does your codebreaker believe this ¡®red-painted rock¡¯ is, exactly?¡±


    ¡°The resting place of Levasseur¡¯s three hundred million pounds¡¯ worth of treasure. But it¡¯s the first few lines that have her and I befuddled. You see, the first two lines seem to indicate an island, as well as a peninsula, with directions to key places where my codebreaker believes Levasseur likely left clues to help decode the rest of the cipher¡ªI say, my dear boy, are you all right? You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost.¡±


    Vhingfrith blinked, and he suddenly remembered his mouth was hanging open and he closed it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. But did you say¡­three hundred¡­million?¡±


    ¡°Oh dear, pardon me, but did I forget to mention that part? Yes, it is only an estimate of what all Levasseur stole and was never recovered, but even if it¡¯s close to that, you can see why the French government would want to reclaim it before anyone else. It would help re-stimulate their foundering economy and perhaps help them regenerate their withering fleets. Are you sure you won¡¯t have anything to eat? I can¡¯t help but notice you¡¯ve only been drinking wine this whole time, and the Goose¡¯s chef is a Frenchman named¡­oh, I forget his name, but he makes something delicious he calls an omelet. He uses fresh eggs that come straight from my very own farm on the north end of the island. It¡¯s quite delicious, I assure you. Let¡¯s have some while we discuss this further.¡±


    Munt took another large gulp of wine, while Vhingfrith stared at him, still astonished.


    ¡°And for now,¡± he added, ¡°let this conversation stay twixt us. Agreed? I shouldn¡¯t want any others to think they can have a part in our confederacy. I heard you¡¯re an honourable man, like your father. Let¡¯s test that honourable streak.¡±

 Chapter 17: The Firmament Stirs

    draught ¨C The depth of water a ship needs to float her.


    a man of the Molly-house ¨C A homosexual man.


    IT WAS ANNE BONNY who noticed it first.


    The rest of the fellas were sat by their guns, drinking rum and playing cards. Typically they weren¡¯t allowed to gamble, but they could play for fun, and sometimes they wagered buttons or pieces of their own hair. Anne was pacing up and down the length of the Hazard, looking away at the thousand flickering lights of Port Royal and wondering if she would ever set foot on those shores again. Jack told her once that he¡¯d had a dream that they were married, but that he had died in a storm, and if Anne ever returned to Royal a widow, she would be without his protection, and she would die. There were vast forests that surrounded Royal, and Jack had said his dream showed him something with claws and slavering fangs reaching out of those dark woods, and pulling Anne in.


    An astrologer once told her a port city was where she would die.


    Promise me, if something ever happens to me, you won¡¯t go to shore in Royal again. Promise me, Anne. That was a month before he was hanged, his death coming at the pen stroke of Woodes Rogers. That was a rumour, anyway. One of many rumours surrounding ¡°Calico¡± Jack Rackham¡¯s disappearance. A secret execution, held at midnight behind the Governor¡¯s Mansion. Sometimes she dreamt of killing Woodes Rogers in his sleep, but then she would have to go to shore, something she¡¯d sworn to Jack she would never do, not without him. Maybe if I could trick Rogers into coming out to sea somehow. It was a fantasy she¡¯d often thought about while lying awake in her hammock.


    Anne fingered the grip of the pistol looped in her belt.  She kept flitting her eyes over to the men, who all kept playing their game, laughing loudly and occasionally glancing up at the stars, pointedly not commenting on the clear night sky. They were all looking up, wondering if this night was going to linger like the last one had. They were all looking up. At the sky.


    But Anne Bonny was looking out at Port Royal. So it was Anne Bonny who saw it first. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± she said.


    Kepler, who had stepped away from the helm since Hazard was currently anchored and not moving, looked up from the magic trick Holloway was trying to show him. ¡°What¡¯s what?¡±


    Anne tried to make it out. It started as a black, tenebrous shape, which whipped in the water and caused a brief tumult. A moment later, Hazard listed grumpily, her boards all creaking. Everyone looked around with a start. A barrel that the men had been using to hold their cards tilted, and some of their cards fell off. The deck swayed just noticeably, but when Anne looked up at the ratlines and nets, they weren¡¯t fluttering.


    ¡°No wind,¡± she said.


    ¡°Rogue wave, then,¡± Kepler said dismissively. ¡°Comes from earthquakes. Causes big waves, like the one took out Fort Arthur all them years ago.¡± He sighed. ¡°Hopefully it won¡¯t be that big.¡±


    ¡°Or ¡¯opefully it will!¡± Jaime shouted. He was lounging beside one of the cannons, whittling a flute. ¡°Take all o¡¯ Port Royal with it, finally an¡¯ fer good! Per¡¯aps that¡¯s what the Lord wants, after all.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re all doom and gloom, you,¡± said Kendrick.


    ¡°Saw enough of it these last two weeks.¡±


    No one said anything to that. The Scotsman was always a bleak soul. A few of the men looked out at the water. The disturbance had passed, and they reacquainted themselves with their cards, and started betting their buttons and locks of hair again. Anne went to the starboard rail and looked out at the black water. It wasn¡¯t completely black, Port Royal¡¯s lights reflected against its surface, and the wave disturbance was causing those lights to dance and swirl. She saw something farther out, closer to shore. The Lively was wharfed, along with three other ships. Not only did those ships appear to sway, but the docks themselves seemed to rock a little. And then something breached the surface. Something as onyx-black as the waters, yet smooth and with the slightest shimmer. Several somethings. They appeared like half-spherical lumps on the water¡¯s surface, but then quickly dipped back below.


    ¡°Kepler?¡± she said.


    ¡°Ayuh?¡±


    ¡°Get to the wheel.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I said get to the wheel. Now. You men. Climb those ratlines, be ready to drop sail if I tell you. The rest of you, help me at the capstan. We may need to weigh anchor soon¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait a minute, what the bloody fuckin¡¯ hell are you talking¡ª?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something in the water.¡±


    ____


    The man that owned The Golden Goose was named Otis. No one knew his last name. The Ladyman heard a rumour once that the reason Otis did not give his last name was because he was wanted for murder back in England, and that the price on his head was so high, any pirate would turn him over to the island tribunal. But John didn¡¯t believe that, for he¡¯d sailed with Otis back when they were both just getting started in privateering, and besides being only a fair sailor, Otis was anything but violent. Wouldn¡¯t participate in any fighting at all, in fact, not even when against the bloody Spanish. No, Otis wasn¡¯t violent. What he was was a preternaturally savvy man who saved his earnings from privateering and used it to buy The Golden Goose a decade ago. He was also ¡°on the account,¡± as the Republic of Pirates called it, meaning he was technically a pirate himself, though he never sailed these days. But the information and gossip he provided, along with services to store a pirate¡¯s bounty in his wine cellar, out of which he gave out loans like he was running a bank, made Otis invaluable to John Laurier and others. A man on the account yet operating on land like a lubber was always good to have.


    ¡°Otis,¡± the Ladyman said, sidling beside the main bar.


    ¡°Ladyman,¡± said the old fella. He was grey-haired and wore pink sores all over his face. The right eye was missing, John had been there when it was taken. Not in battle, but by a drunken pirate named Sully, who went into a rage one night when he was caught gambling aboard the Lively. Captain Vhingfrith (Benjamin¡¯s father) had tied Sully¡¯s hands behind his back for that, and dropped him into the sea. ¡°The Negroes can¡¯t drink ¡¯ere. Sorry.¡±


    John glanced at Akil, then shrugged. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it, old friend. But what about young Dobbs, here?¡± He clapped the boy on his shoulder as he ambled up to the bar. ¡°The little nipper shot a few Spaniards in a storm, in near perfect darkness, while perched up in the crow¡¯s nest. I¡¯d say he¡¯s earned something better than the swill we have on the Hazard.¡±


    ¡°O¡¯ course, young master,¡± said Otis, who provided a glass and a decanter of wine. ¡°Anything for a young nipper. You on the account yet?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Dobbs said. ¡°But perhaps someday.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t take the oath if I can help it,¡± John said. They both looked at him. ¡°Something better for you awaits, Mr. Dobbs, other than a miserable pirate¡¯s life.¡±


    ¡°Like what, sir?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know yet, I¡¯ll let you know when I do.¡±


    ¡°And how is the Hazard, by the way?¡± asked Otis, cleaning a filthy glass.


    ¡°She¡¯s well. I¡¯ll tell her you asked.¡±


    ¡°Heard Abner retired out there. Bad business.¡±


    John could sense Dobbs¡¯s uneasiness while he drank. He tried not to call attention to the boy, who probably would war with his guilty conscience for a while, and hopefully come through it the better. ¡°Men lose their minds at sea. Sometimes on our small wooden worlds, out there in the sea, they choose to jump. You remember Cronenberg, don¡¯t you? Fellow got scalped by the Caribs, went mad when he saw his reflection in Johnson¡¯s mirror, and leapt into the sea?¡±


    ¡°That was Maier. Cronenberg¡¯s the one died of bloody flux. But I¡¯ve heard other strange tales, Captain,¡± Otis pressed. ¡°Most peculiar things.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll bet you have,¡± John said, surveying the drinking hall. His eyes touched momentarily those of Benjamin Vhingfrith, who looked back at him darkly. John smiled back and kept looking. He spotted Tomlinson and Jenkins in one corner drinking. Jenkins had a serving lady in his lap, squeezing her breasts. She slapped him, but laughed afterwards. He also spied long, tall Mr. Tyndall, the Lively¡¯s surgeon everybody called Scarecrow, in the corner drinking alone. John wondered if he or Ben would ever be able to get any of these men to sail with them again after what happened. ¡°Strange happenings get turned into stranger tales,¡± John said, shrugging. ¡°I would put no more thought into it, Otis. Give us a drink, would you? Same as what the nipper¡¯s having.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not just you, Ladyman,¡± said Otis, filling a glass with gold liquid.


    John looked round at him. ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Said it¡¯s not just you that saw summin peculiar out there.¡±


    John leaned in, took his brandy, and downed it. ¡°Well, do not leave me in suspense, sir. Speak plainly. For I¡¯ve been at sea these many months and long to hear some good gossip.¡±


    Otis scratched his chin with his left hand, the one missing the pinky finger. John had been there for that, too, when the stays snapped, and a rope ripped Otis¡¯s hand to pieces. Mr. Archer, the ship¡¯s surgeon, had done all he could to save the other fingers. ¡°Word comes from the boys over in Haiti.¡±


    ¡°The Brethren?¡±


    ¡°Aye. A pair o¡¯ messengers came by here not long ago, sent by them privateers over on Tortuga. Said something similar happened away in England, and again somewheres up in the Colonies. People reporting two or three days without a sunrise. Thought it was madness, me. Those people of Massachusetts Bay¡­they¡¯ve been known to be melancholy. Some disease went through them not long ago, so I thought to m¡¯self, ¡®That¡¯s all it is, just melancholy.¡¯¡±


    John waved his glass for another refill, and drank it down. ¡°But?¡±


    ¡°But the messengers, they say the Brethren have it on good authority it¡¯s happened elsewhere, too. Them same Catholics what still believe in old Guy Fawkes¡¯s methods, they¡¯ve claimed the whole world has offended God, and that these are markers mentioned in the Bible. The end of days, and whatnot. And them strange cults popping up all over London, all the rage in Paris, too¡ªI hear they¡¯ve summoned this darkness to us, that they welcomed it.¡±


    The Ladyman bit his lip, lost in thought a moment. ¡°And all these people that claim to have seen a day with no sunrise, did they see anything else during the long night?¡±


    ¡°Aye. Extra moons. Red ones, gold ones, moons made outta emerald. Clouds made o¡¯ liquid light, within which they said swam a leviathan. A leviathan in the sky!¡± Otis snorted. ¡°Yours ain¡¯t the only crew¡¯s been seeing strange things, Ladyman. Some in Haiti say this is the new order of things. There¡¯s a Lutheran here on the island now, man from Scandinavia or somewheres, says he¡¯s here to help the Protestant priests of Port Royal. He says this is the way o¡¯ things now. The new normal. There will come a day when the sun never rises anywheres again. He says so.¡±


    ¡°And a priest never lied.¡±


    ¡°Careful there, Ladyman. Careful. I tolerate a lot in the Goose, but I don¡¯t tolerate blasphemy. That sort o¡¯ talk is only welcome on your ship.¡±


    John sighed. Waved a dismissive hand.


    Dobbs had stopped drinking or even looking around, and all his attention was now on Otis. John thought all this talk was very interesting, but it also did not get him anywhere. If the natural world was changing, far be it for him to say why or predict its new mechanics. Of all Nature¡¯s gears and levers, the only ones he understood had to do with the sea and the weather as it pertained to navigating. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad at least we weren¡¯t just going mad out there. But we¡¯re beyond all that ugly business now. I came here on an enterprise.¡±


    ¡°What sorta enterprise?¡±


    ¡°One for which I will need repairs for my ship. She saw lots of action, I¡¯m sure you heard. The Nuestra gave as good as she took, and even though we won, and able to conduct some repairs while at sea, I will need one or two things done to the Hazard before we leave this place. Is there still an opening at the Turtle Crawles for a pirate vessel to repair?¡±


    Otis shrugged, and wiped the bar down with a dirty rag. ¡°Ought to be.¡±


    ¡°Ought to be. Meaning if the right amount of shillings meet the right pair of hands.¡±


    Otis smiled. ¡°As yeh say.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll need new rigging. Some of ours snapped in all the fighting. Replacement masts so we can repair at sea if we need to. New portside railing. And I¡¯ll need a man with a good eye to have a look at our rudder, Hazard was dragging a bit after the Nuestra, and Kepler seems to think she¡¯s splintered at the bottom.¡±


    ¡°How is Kepler? On his last leg yet? He was coughin¡¯ up blood last I saw him.¡±


    ¡°He got over that, good sea air did it for him. He¡¯s as fine as ever. In his prime, in fact. Can you help me with repairs or not?¡±


    Otis licked his lips. Scratched his chin again. ¡°I could make inquiries, but ol¡¯ Rogers has made it plain¡ªpirates aren¡¯t supposed to be welcome. At all.¡±


    The Ladyman handed him a sack filled with forty shillings. ¡°Understood. Please work your magic. And please hand this out to any dockmaster willing to make an exception.¡±


    ¡°I can do that for yeh. But they may try and cheat you. Being your only option, and all. They¡¯ll try to hornswoggle you.¡±


    ¡°I have an engineer. He¡¯ll know what¡¯s a good price, and can bargain on my behalf.¡±


    Otis chuckled. ¡°So you¡¯re still travelin¡¯ with the Frenchman, too, are you?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I thought for sure you¡¯d toss him overboard ¡¯fore long, but I should¡¯ve known his strangeness would be welcome on the Hazard.¡±


    ¡°Make sure the dockmasters know LaCroix¡¯s reputation. And while you¡¯re at it, ask around for a man called Williamson. First name Peter, I believe. Peter Williamson III. Last time I left he had a pair of twelve-pounders he was trying to sell, but couldn¡¯t find anyone reputable because every cannon had the mark of the boys over in Menorca.¡± Which meant the cannons once belonged to the Royal Regiment. Cannons like that were indeed powerful, but they could never be placed on a privateer vessel, either the Ordnance Board or the Navy Board would snatch them up quick and reorient them on one of England¡¯s own vessels. John had tried to tell Williamson he could not hope to sell them at full value, but the man would not part for anything less than their full market worth. The second you came into their possession, they lost all that worth, and now they are only fit to be used by pirates, John had said to him. ¡°If Mr. Williamson is still trying to sell them, tell him John Laurier wants his twelve-pounders for sakers. Tell him I can actually pay¡±


    Otis looked taken aback. ¡°What about Hazard? Can her timbers take the recoil of twelve-pounders?¡±


    ¡°I believe she¡¯ll do fine, if I only burden her with two. Any more than that¡­¡± He shrugged. ¡°You¡¯ll pass the word around?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Otis eyed him closely. ¡°You¡¯ll be lookin¡¯ for another crew, too, then? I can post an announcement on the wall, see who turns up. Got some green boys, fresh off a Dutch merchantman that jumped ship. Heard they¡¯re fair sailors, and desperate for work.¡±


    ¡°No, but thank you.¡±


    Otis winced. ¡°How are you gonna sail without a crew, John?¡±


    ¡°A sloop can operate with less than ten crew, you know that, Otis.¡±


    ¡°Aye, but yeh can¡¯t board another ship with only ten fighting men. You¡¯ll need a crew.¡±


    ¡°I just need a few points of gossip made clear to me. The Smith plantation. How is it these days? I heard he¡¯s not on the account anymore. That¡¯s what Abby and Franklin say, anyways.¡±


    Otis had just lifted up a glass from behind the bar, and was in the middle of spit-shining it, when he froze. Looked at the Ladyman. ¡°Now, why do you want to know about Raymond Smith¡¯s plantation, Captain Laurier?¡±


    ¡°I just want to know how the sugarcane business has fared in the last year.¡±


    Otis took a towel, draped it over one shoulder, and set the glass on the bar. ¡°You thinkin¡¯ of getting into the sugarcane business?¡±


    ¡°Is he on the account or not, Otis?¡±


    ¡°You know, I shouldn¡¯t have to recite the Code to the Ladyman. If it¡¯s information yeh want, I have to know we¡¯re all squared away, and that nothing you do will upset the balance o¡¯ the Republic boys.¡±


    Laurier sighed. He started to say something, but just then two men play-wrestling bumped into him, and then into Dobbs, making him spill his drink. One of the men laughed at the boy, until he saw Dobbs was with the Ladyman. One of the men tipped his hat. The other one just averted his gaze, and looked at Akil and the other Africans with trepidation. The encounter was over in less than a couple heartbeats, but a few had seen it, and a couple of those looked disappointed that no one had taken a swing. Laurier looked back at Otis. ¡°You want assurances that I won¡¯t fuck things up for the boys in Nassau? I understand completely. But I¡¯ve just heard it from two trusted sources that Raymond Smith is no longer on the account. So why are you protecting him?¡±


    ¡°Not protectin¡¯ nothin¡¯, John,¡± Otis said, lifting another dirty glass and wiping it. ¡°Smith no longer pays his dues to Nassau, so the boys there ain¡¯t counting him as bein¡¯ on the account. But his plantation sure as bloody hell supplies the Republic with food, and Smith pays well for all o¡¯ them slaves.¡±


    ¡°His slaves. How many does he have now?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Just answer one damn question of mine without more questions, Otis, for the love of God.¡±


    Otis¡¯s one eye squinted. The eye gave an appraisal of the Africans in John¡¯s company. He was trying to figure something out. ¡°You have a plan, don¡¯t you? Some scheme?¡±


    ¡°Otis¡ª¡±


    ¡°You want to sell these Negroes to him? Is that it?¡±


    At this point, Akil, who had shown an ability to understand increments of English, looked around sharply at Laurier, who could feel the Negro¡¯s intense gaze boring into him. Akil stood there, holding the box with the Ladyman¡¯s new dress in it, looking like he might be considering bashing the captain¡¯s head in with it. ¡°I want to talk to him about many business arrangements,¡± John said carefully.


    ¡°Yeh know he hates you.¡±


    ¡°I have heard tell of his dislike of me. Though I don¡¯t know what I could¡¯ve done to ever deserve¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeh lay with men, John. Yeh dress like a woman. Smith¡¯s the son of a priest, thinks the only thing lower than a man o¡¯ the Molly-house is one who lays with their kind.¡± Otis used his chin to gesture to the Africans.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be happy to know that his gravamen with me has no grounds. I haven¡¯t lain with any of these,¡± the Ladyman laughed, keeping it light. ¡°But tell me, since he¡¯s no longer officially pirating, then he¡¯s officially no longer on the account, which means¡­the Code does not apply to him. Is that what I¡¯m hearing?¡±


    Otis sighed. ¡°What do yeh want with Raymond Smith, John? I won¡¯t ask again. I have to know, since it¡¯s his plantation supplies a lot of the food and drink in this place.¡±


    Seeing no other recourse, John lied. ¡°I do want to sell him my slaves. But if I were to¡­come out the better for it, let¡¯s say. Would I be punished for hornswoggling the old fool?¡±


    Otis licked his lips pensively. ¡°No. If yeh sell him inferior product, suppose that¡¯s his own damned fault for not bein¡¯ more careful.¡±


    ¡°And his plantation? Is it true he no longer has militiamen guarding its perimeter? I just want to know in case he orders me to be detained, what sort of resistance I¡¯m dealing with.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s not enough draught anywhere in the ocean to hold afloat a ship with that much horseshit in it, Captain Laurier.¡± Otis shook his head ruefully. ¡°But all right. It is true, he no longer can afford to keep the militiamen as guards. It¡¯s been a couple o¡¯ lean years for Smith.¡±


    ¡°Does he have any protectors left at all?¡±


    ¡°Just his grown sons. Two of them, I believe. And three or four of his brothers who have gone into enterprise with him. Mark me, they¡¯re more dangerous than any militiaman. One of ¡¯em, Josephus, he was on the Royal Sovereign when it collided with those Spanish pirates. Killed seven of them with just his sword. Big fella, big red beard. Look out for him.¡±


    Laurier rapped twice on the bar with his knuckles. ¡°Thank you, Otis. You¡¯re a true friend.¡± John dropped him three shillings and Otis let them sit there. He didn¡¯t have to scoop them up, no one in their right mind would steal coins off the bar of The Golden Goose. John put his tricorne back on and tipped it. ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving soon. I¡¯ve got room for you on the Hazard, if you ever want to see the ocean again.¡±


    ¡°I can see it just fine from up here.¡±


    ¡°Of course. And, if you see Captain Morgan, tell him John Laurier is about to complete what he could not.¡±


    Otis blanched. ¡°Captain Henry Morgan? He¡¯s dead, John. You know that.¡±


    ¡°I meant in the afterlife. I anticipate that soon I shall not be welcome in Port Royal, Otis, and should you die before I see you again, you will tell Morgan, won¡¯t you?¡±


    The Golden Goose¡¯s owner chortled. ¡°Will he understand the message?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll tell him, and on your own head be it. Oh, and tell your friend over there Jacobson and his lot are free.¡±


    John stopped. Turned back. ¡°What?¡±


    Otis nodded towards Vhingfrith. ¡°They let his mutineers go not an hour ago.¡±


    ¡°You mean the militia didn¡¯t even hold them for a single night?¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Jacobson and the others said they were victims of this ¡®mind sickness¡¯ your people have been talking about. It seems the tribunals don¡¯t have time to suss it all out, so they fined them all, and let them out.¡±


    ¡°No retribution? No punishment of any kind? They mutinied on a ship with a letter of marque! A captain sailing on behalf of the Admiralty Court¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yeh know why this happened, John.¡± Otis shrugged. ¡°Nobody likes Vhingfrith. Nobody. I don¡¯t much like the half-breed myself, but he is a payin¡¯ customer and he is your friend, so¡­¡±


    John¡¯s jaw tightened. He sighed. ¡°Thank you, Otis.¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir. Anything for a fellow man on the account.¡± He tipped his head and turned back into the supply room.


    John looked across the Goose, at Benjamin, who was leaning over the table now and listening intently to the corpulent man with the long grey hair. Dobbs was right behind the Ladyman, as were the Africans, all of whom were giving John wary looks. He was just about to say something to Akil, to explain some things to him, when a hand touched his elbow. John looked around at the owner of the hand, who said, ¡°You ne¡¯er apologized.¡± John blinked. It was one of the men that had bumped into him and Dobbs. A tall, lean fellow with a face pocked by acne scars and a lazy eye.


    ¡°Excuse me? Apologize? For what?¡±


    ¡°For bumping into m¡¯friend and I, you lily-livered cunt.¡±


    Behind the scar-faced fellow, his friend, much shorter than him, was sweating and ostensibly nervous, and his hand rested on a dagger that had not yet been drawn.


    ¡°Friend, it was you that bumped into me, and caused the nipper here to spill his drink,¡± the Ladyman said, pointing to Dobbs. ¡°I¡¯m certain others saw it. You could ask them¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t need to ask nobody, fancy man.¡± It was obvious what the man meant, for his one good eye took in John¡¯s manner of dress.


    ¡°Take your hand off me, sir, or there will be reprisal.¡±


    ¡°Reprisal? That so?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That is so.¡±


    John spotted two men standing up from a table just behind his assailants, and since he didn¡¯t recognize them, he assumed they were against him. A few other people cast looks in John¡¯s direction, including Benjamin, who broke off his conversation to turn round in his seat and watch the encounter.


    The Golden Goose had gone almost silent.


    ¡°My friend,¡± John said slowly, ¡°you are mistaken. You and your friend here bumped into my young crewman here, and then you drunkenly staggered off. Since you both seemed deep in your cups, we decided to let the matter rest. I did not even ask for an apology.¡±


    ¡°You bumped into us,¡± the fellow said stubbornly.


    ¡°We could be here all night arguing who bumped into whom, sir. I¡¯m only going to ask you once more. Remove your hand from me.¡±


    The man¡¯s one good eye glared at him. The hand did not budge. John heard the scraping of a chair, and when he looked, he saw Benjamin had stood to his feet, though his fat friend remained seated. Three other men stood up in the room, then some drunken lout came staggering down the steps, knife drawn, like he meant to be a part of this. Tomlinson and Jenkins, who had been lost in revelry in a corner, suddenly stood up, but John couldn¡¯t tell whose side they were on. Scarecrow remained seated. At this point, it seemed everyone was confused. Everyone in the room hated the Devil¡¯s Son, most had at least a distaste for the Ladyman, some would have surely heard the tale their crews brought back. Some were the men that had crewed Hazard and Lively, and now, no longer obliged to listen to either captain, might see reason to score even.


    ¡°You¡¯re touching a man on the account, sir,¡± John reminded his assailant. ¡°There¡¯s reprisal for that.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you an¡¯ your daisy Negro lover!¡±


    ¡°Very well. Roche, you have my leave.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯re you¡ª?¡±


    The hatchet that embedded itself in the scarred man¡¯s face appeared to come out of nowhere. It went deep, and the man¡¯s eyes went wide. Blood spatter went into John¡¯s eyes, so he missed when Roche pulled the hatchet back out and struck again. This time the man¡¯s brains fell from the opening in the side of his head and dribbled past his ears, down his neck, and his body twitched while his jaw worked up and down. His legs buckled and he swayed on his feet like seaweed in a soft current, both hands spasming as he fell backward against a table full of revelers.


    Now all talk had ceased. No one moved but Roche.


    Roche, the leathery-skinned Brazilian, pushed his long black hair out of his face and held the hatchet¡¯s blade to the shorter man, who backed off. Then Roche stood over the dead body, and started hacking. First he removed the head, lopping it off at the neck with two powerful strokes. Someone darted out of the hall. Next, Roche took off the hands. Blood gathered in great pools, running along the floorboards in fast, spurting currents. The Brazilian reared back six more times, smashing the dead man¡¯s breastplate, until his hatchet became so embedded Roche could wedge it open.


    Everyone stood back, including John. Dobbs ran outside, looking pale-faced and ready to vomit. Akil watched in wide-eyed fascination and shock. The other Africans retreated to a far wall. Vhingfrith and his fat friend remained still and rigid. No one wanted to interrupt Roche¡¯s work, not even Otis, who came out from the back supply room and stared, grim-faced, until the Brazilian was done.


    And he was not done for a while longer. Red-faced and silent, Roche raised his hatchet again and again, dismembering the dead man¡¯s corpse, defiling it occasionally by spitting on the exposed guts. The room smelled of copper and spilled intestines. John didn¡¯t move. He watched the large Brazilian hack away, listened to the bones crack and snap, observed the men who left out the back way without saying a word. Those who had stood to help the scarred man had now lowered themselves back into their seats. The prostitutes upstairs were rushed back into their rooms by their pimps.


    And still, Roche hacked away. He hacked until the arms of the corpse became a mulch, and reached into the open belly and pulled out fistfuls of guts. Panting, Roche never stopped, never looked sated. He smashed the skull until the jaw came away and teeth skittered across the floor and into the widening pool of blood.


    Eventually, The Golden Goose emptied out. Some customers simply grabbed their coats and walked out, like they were late for something. When all but a few were gone, Roche Brasiliano stood up, bare chest heaving and covered in blood spatter. He wiped his brow, then swayed, dancing to a song only he could hear and laughing. When finally Roche sat back down, and took a goblet someone had abandoned and drank from it, John eased himself into a seat across from him. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the body. I¡¯ll take care of it.¡±


    ¡°Not worried, John the Captain,¡± mumbled the Brazilian. His gormless expression was half hidden by the black curtain of hair, clumps of flesh sliding down his oily locks. He was still huffing like a bull that had charged its enemies.


    John nodded. ¡°We¡¯re leaving soon. Be at the docks when we ship off. If you still want to come, that is. It is your decision, of course.¡±


    ¡°You were going to ask me, sim? You weren¡¯t going to forget me this time?¡±


    ¡°No. In fact, I am sorry to have left you last time, but we were in a bit of a hurry. But one of my reasons for coming into Royal was to find you. Fortuitous that you were here tonight, Roche.¡± John leaned over and patted Roche¡¯s bloody hands. It was a thing carefully done, for the Brazilian was to be delicately handled, and only Captain Laurier had ever managed to have any small control over the man. Like many in Port Royal, Roche Brasiliano came from nowhere. His penchant for savage violence had once made him a trusted ally when the Spanish tried to invade the island over the years. Roche was a gifted swimmer, and had swum out into the bay to board the Spanish ships at night and killed many men unseen. He¡¯d also killed English and Dutch pirates in the streets of Royal in broad daylight, hacking them to pieces with his hatchet while others watched. Once or twice he¡¯d been jailed for it, but always witnesses said it was self-defence, and so he was released.


    Most agreed Roche had the intelligence of a child, but also a fierce loyalty to those who stuck by him. He wanted to sail as a privateer, but only pirate vessels ever took him on, and even those were few. John had briefly sailed with him. During the voyage, Roche killed two of the crewmen, one for pulling at his hair while he slept, and the other because, as Roche put it, ¡°The man not like me, I can tell, and I see in his eyes he thinking about killing me. So I kill him first.¡± John had not sailed with him since, but whenever he came to shore Roche would seek him out and beg John to take him.


    ¡°I want you to come with us this time, Roche. In fact, I may even need you before we set sail. I have a very special mission in mind. Potentially dangerous. Are you up for it?¡±


    The Brazilian looked up through a curtain of bloodied black hair, green eyes twinkling by the candlelight. ¡°What is it you have me do?¡±


    ¡°Do you know the sugarcane plantations on the other side of the island?¡±


    Roche looked at him. Nodded. A small smile spread across his face, and a tear fell from his eye.


    ____


    Anne stood by the larboard rail, watching the water with the same blank expression she¡¯d worn all night. There had been no more disturbances since the first sighting. The water was oily calm. A light wind was coming in from the east, and clouds were moving in, blanketing the stars.


    ¡°Bonny?¡± said Kepler, standing by the wheel. ¡°Can we sleep now?¡±


    She looked over at Kepler, sagging on his wheel. Then at LaCroix. The Frenchman was standing watch at the rail, gazing hard at a fishing boat that was sailing beneath Hazard¡¯s stern right at that moment, laden with tunny and with a few men banging on conches and singing a chanty as they passed in the night. Anne looked back at the helmsman. Back at the docks. At the Lively. At the flickering lights of Port Royal.


    ¡°Anne?¡± said Jaime through a yawn. The Scotsman was at the capstan along with Masters, Longbottom, and seven others. ¡°What do yeh make of it? Can some of us sleep now?¡±


    Okoa came limping by. ¡°Has the danger passed, Anne?¡±


    She took another look at Royal. A felucca that had come in from dark waters now sailed cleanly into port, and the echoes of the men singing ¡°Lay, Daisy, Lay¡± carried across the night. Everything seemed normal. She nodded. ¡°Aye. Go get some sleep. All of you.¡± To Kepler, she said, ¡°As you head below, tell Hammett I¡¯ll take the dog-watch.¡± And she flipped the hourglass dangling from its rope.


    Kepler sighed gratefully and headed belowdecks. Anne watched him and the others go, then looked up at the empty crow¡¯s nest. She wondered if she ought to climb up there, get a better look from a higher vantage.


    ¡°Anne?¡±


    She whipped her head around, searching for the source of the voice. She stood facing the portside railing and the dark horizon. ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Anne?¡± The voice was a man¡¯s, soft and withered, carrying on the wind and yet sounding like it was in her ear.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡±


    The night remained as it had been. A flash of light moved over the deck. Anne looked around the deck, but saw no other lantern than the one hanging behind her. The light grew and grew. And then, sensing it, she looked up. For a moment she staggered in disbelief. A piss-yellow moon, huge, pocked by many craters, moved quickly overhead. Almost as soon as she saw it, it faded, dissipating as if it were made of nothing more than mist. When it vanished, an invisible wave of change rippled across the stars, a shimmer, changing them momentarily, and then they settled. It was as though a stone had been thrown into a star-spackled pond, and for a moment the ripples had deformed the reflections in the water. But it had all happened up in the sky, not in the water, and now all was calm, and Anne stood transfixed, breathing heavily.


    ¡°I saw it, too,¡± said Abner. He was standing right beside her. She knew it. She didn¡¯t even have to turn and look at him. It was his voice she had been hearing. Anne froze in sheer terror. ¡°I¡¯m still seeing it. Oh, God, Anne, where am I? Anne¡­Anne¡­what happened? Did Laurier betray me? Did you?¡± When she finally turned, Anne opened her mouth in a silent scream. Piss ran down her legs at the sight of blue-faced Abner Crane, vomiting up seawater as he clutched his crucifix and wept looking at her. With hands draped in seaweed, he reached out to her. ¡°Oh, God¡­Anne! It was so cold down there! I don¡¯t want to go back¡ª¡±


    Anne drew her pistol.


    But a moment later, Abner was gone, dissipating like the yellow moon had done. Anne stumbled backwards until she fell against a barrel, but she kept her pistol drawn and aiming at the night.


    Then, from the shores of Port Royal, she heard screaming.


    ____


    Vhingfrith caught up to the Ladyman just as he was rounding the corner to Queen Street. Dobbs and the six Africans were following rapidly behind, and Laurier was speaking quickly to them in confidence. ¡°John!¡± Vhingfrith called, jogging up to him. ¡°John! John, for God¡¯s sakes, stop when I call your name! Tell me, what are you doing?¡±


    Laurier stopped and looked at him. ¡°I¡¯m out for a walk. What does it look like?¡±


    ¡°What were you doing in the Goose in the first place?¡±


    ¡°What, a man can¡¯t have a clap o¡¯ thunder?¡±


    ¡°You were talking to Otis.¡±


    ¡°I was.¡±


    ¡°What were you two talking about?¡±


    ¡°What were you doing with your corpulent friend?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t change the subject,¡± Vhingfrith said.


    Laurier stepped closer, smiling. ¡°Dobbs here can attest. I was watching you.¡±


    ¡°Watching me?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Why do you think, Benjamin?¡± John snorted and paced the muddy street, his blood-spattered dress fluttering in the cool breeze. ¡°Perspicacious fellow such as you, I think you can figure it out.¡±


    Benjamin¡¯s lip twitched.


    ¡°Yes, there it is!¡±


    ¡°Contemptible man. I don¡¯t need a babysitter. But it seems you do. What was all that back there?¡±


    ¡°A misunderstanding, I assure you, that is all.¡±


    ¡°And did I hear you asking Roche to come aboard with you?¡±


    ¡°You did,¡± John said. ¡°Few else will sail with me, so I take who I can.¡±


    ¡°You take others like him on, and your reputation will be worth less than the dung you¡¯re currently standing in.¡±


    John looked down at his shoe, and grimaced, then stepped to one side. ¡°No doubt. But I mean to sail soon, and I¡¯ll need a crew.¡± He smiled. ¡°Would you care to join us, Captain Vhingfrith?¡±


    ¡°Where, to plunder more villages?¡± It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, but he could see John was only going to smile through the insult and let it go. ¡°I asked Otis back there what you two were talking about. What do you want with Raymond Smith? You know he hates the living daylights out of you. He won¡¯t do business with you.¡±


    John shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not interested in doing business with him.¡±


    ¡°What, then?¡±


    ¡°I had better not say, not until I have everything in place.¡±


    ¡°Like buying twelve-pounders from Peter Williamson? Otis told me about that, too. Just what the hell are you planning?¡±


    ¡°A surprise,¡± the Ladyman said, with a coquettish smile. ¡°A surprise for everyone. But right now, forget all that. Within the hour, I will be at The Dashing Inn. Alone. No one else will be there. I¡¯m sending Dobbs and Akil back to the Hazard.¡±


    Vhingfrith shrugged innocently. ¡°Why should you tell me this?¡±


    ¡°No one else will be there, Captain. And Winfred, the innkeeper, she can keep a secret.¡±


    Before Vhingfrith could say anything else, the Ladyman shushed him with a finger placed to his lips. Then he turned and practically sashayed away, into the night. Vhingfrith stood in the center of the street, and stepped out of the way when a wagon driver barked at him to move. Vhingfrith stood a moment, alone in the street with his thoughts, wondering if he ought to go to Woodes Rogers tonight, or save that meeting for the morning. It¡¯s getting on late. May as well leave that for the morning, when fresher air will make fresher heads.


    A lamplighter was relighting one of the lamps behind him. Vhingfrith watched him, thinking back to Munt¡¯s offer, then to the barbaric violence he¡¯d just witnessed. The madness of the fourteen-day darkness was almost completely forgotten, relegated to the part of his mind where he tucked away anomalies and dark dreams. Now he was thinking of treasure, and of a dead man named Levasseur, and of how John¡¯s legs looked in that dress.


    ____


    The boy¡¯s name was Rafael. His parents had come into Port Royal on the Jimenez, the last Spanish merchantmen that had been welcomed into port. His parents were both children back then, serving as deckhands. When the English took over and ran the Jimenez out of port, Rafael¡¯s parents had been ashore fetching supplies, and orphaned in Royal. Ten years they served as slaves, but eventually earned their own freedom and opened a stall in the Fish Market at the center of Port Royal. Rafael was fourteen now, both his parents were gone, his mother dead of disease, his father murdered by unknown pirates in the street. And so, Rafael worked the stall himself.


    Rafael was at the stall when he saw what he believed was a yellow moon, a large one, that did not resemble the regular moon at all. But clouds quickly moved in, and the yellow moon vanished. A few others in the street saw it, too, and shouted and pointed. Others were too late in looking up, and missed it.


    Rafael turned three times in a circle, and whispered the prayer his mother taught him, the one Spanish sailors used aboard the Jimenez to ward off evil. And then he got back to work. Because that¡¯s what you did. Others were still whispering about it. A few people that had been inside during the phenomenon came out of their houses or inns, wondering what the tumult was. Rafael¡¯s father taught him long ago to keep his head down and do his job. Make friends only with other Spaniards, maybe a trustworthy Dutchman, but never anyone else.


    Eventually, everyone started to turn in for the night, closing up shop while muttering about the strange moon-like object that had appeared. Since he worked his stall alone, Rafael usually laboured well into the night, moving aside the crates of fish that had been brought up from the Warren, the fishing boat whose captain favoured Rafael enough to sell him some of his day¡¯s catch. Rafael set the empty crates out for the Warren¡¯s captain to pick up tomorrow, and had just shuttered the window to his shop when he heard a wet, squelching noise. Like a boot stuck in mud. He opened the back door of his shop and stepped out into the street, and saw a most peculiar thing.


    A drunken man lay on his stomach in the muddy street, moaning, trying to crawl forwards. Trying, because every time he crawled forward, he actually slid backwards in the mud. He moaned again. Rafael approached him, curious, his knife already in hand in case this was a trick. His father¡¯s murder had taught him to look out for himself in Port Royal.


    The drunken man rolled over, and Rafael could see his prick was out. The man¡¯s pants were around his ankles, and the line of disturbed mud left a trail from the man¡¯s body all the way to the latrine at the end of the lane, where presumably he¡¯d been relieving himself. Something tugged at his pants, and the drunken man fought feebly. Rafael reached out a hand to help the fellow, and then saw that some black and green limb wound up the man¡¯s leg, serpentine-like, almost like fingers, or the tiny tentacles of a jellyfish, and they were pressing into his flesh. The dark limb was trying to pull him into the shadows.


    ¡°Oh meu Deus¡ª¡±


    ¡°Help,¡± the man muttered, as he was dragged farther down the street, deeper into darkness. ¡°For God¡¯s sake¡­I can feel it¡­inside me¡­¡±


    Rafael gasped, but he was made of sterner stuff, and he grabbed one of the man¡¯s hands, and pulled. But the dark limb pulled harder and yanked Rafael off his feet, and he face-planted into the mud. They slid together, the man and Rafael, on down the street. Rafael tried to let go of the man¡¯s hand, but the man now grabbed fistfuls of the boy¡¯s shirt and would not let go. Their fates were now bound together.


    Rafael thought he heard a scream down another alley, and when he turned to looked, he saw a woman being torn to shreds. First her shirt came off in tatters, and then, by lanternlight, he saw her breasts peeled off neatly like onions. Blood poured like a stuck pig, and Rafael screamed when he saw what was left of her being dragged away by many tentacles.


    Rafael screamed louder. And louder.


    And then the black limb released the drunken man¡¯s legs and assaulted Rafael¡¯s mouth. The tentacles went down his throat and he gagged, vomiting, choking. Rafael cried in horror, tears running down his cheeks, while he and the fleshless woman were dragged through the mud, down to the shore. Rafael reached out to the drunken man for help, but he was already stumbling away, pulling up his pants, never looking back as Rafael tried calling for him. But I helped you! Why won¡¯t you help me? Rafael tried to crawl away, and was now pulled along the mud. Pulled by something wrapped around his tongue and mouth, something that reeked of ammonia and decay. His head was wrenched and twisted. Something cold grabbed hold of one of his arms, and snapped it in half. His breath was stolen. He bumped into the fleshless woman, whose mouth was also gagged by a green-black limb, the width of a man¡¯s forearm.


    Then something ensnared his ankles, and he could feel them. He could feel little fingers inside, beneath his flesh, crawling up his leg, up into his guts, his chest, his brain. Soon, he heard the soughing of waves. He knew he¡¯d been pulled down to the shore. He wasn¡¯t alone. As the cold waters foamed up around him, Rafael saw dozens of people, helpless as he, being pulled inexorably into the dark waters. Some were able to scream. Most were not.


    The first thought Rafael had when the water went over his head was, Oh no, I cannot swim! But he needn¡¯t have worried. Because when he turned around, six eyes of glowing amber told him, I¡¯ll do the swimming for you. Many mouths opened, and took their share of Rafael.


    ____


    Jack Weekes thought she heard screams. Many of them. She had left The Golden Goose after getting caught, grateful that the fat man had let her go, and rushed home to try and sleep, hoping the King¡¯s Militia would not be sent after her. She awoke now with a start, listening to those distant screams. She felt a cold chill creep up her legs like icy fingers and pulled her blanket closer to herself. Then she stood up and went to the window facing south into the harbour, saw a strange rippling effect in the sky. It was there and gone, a shimmer like the sky was made out of black water and someone had thrown a stone into it.


    The screams all abated, and she assumed it had just been carousers, adults deep in their drunken revelries. She heard a shot, sounded like a pistol, and then someone laughing. A man and a woman were in a heated argument, and their shouted words carried well into the jungle.


    Those shouts followed Jack as she laid back down to sleep on the floor. She trembled. Recently her anxiousness followed her into her dreams, where she saw herself lost in a dark harbour, grey mists surrounding her. And she would wake up every so often to clutch her new pistol and point it around at the dark. Once or twice she thought she heard Mother and Father, both whispering to her, asking her to come down to the shore to see them.


    Still trembling, she fell back to sleep, occasionally letting loose a tear.


    ____


    For the rest of the night, there were no more screams in Port Royal. The waters around the docks caused the ships to sway, list, and moan. But the tumult soon passed, and many-eyes-as-one watched the city from beneath the water. Curious.


    For now, it rested. And went into deeper waters.


    ____


    The Dashing Inn¡¯s name belied its squalid, unclean appearance. It rested on a muddy lane on Queen Street, squeezed in between a drinking hall and a small office for the Admiralty Court. The steps were rotted by the moist sea air. Benjamin knew these three, rotted steps. Ages ago, his father had spent a night or two here while waiting for the Lively to be resupplied. They would play games by lanternlight, and his father always forced him to read at least an hour before bed. To this day, it was a habit Benjamin kept up.


    When he entered the common room, Winfred, a woman he knew in passing, and who had run the inn for decades, simply walked her huge round rump down one hall and pointed wordlessly to the staircase. She knew why he was here. Benjamin did, too, and turned and walked straight out. Halfway down the street, he paused. Looking back at The Dashing Inn, he saw a single candle lit in a second-story window.


    Benjamin walked back inside, each footfall leaden. His heart was beating, and he was sweating. He wanted nothing more than to leave, and yet an overriding compulsion had hold of him. When he came to the door with light coming out from under it, he decided he wouldn¡¯t knock. He would just leave. But his hand betrayed him, and he knocked anyway. The door opened and Ben gasped. John Laurier stood there in shocking fashion. He wore a yellow-and-red dress that looked like fire. He was barefoot, but wore two white satin gloves. The Ladyman¡¯s makeup was runny, like he¡¯d been crying, but Benjamin could not imagine why. ¡°John¡­¡±


    The Ladyman just smiled and said, ¡°It¡¯s your choice, Ben. It¡¯s always been your choice.¡±


    Ben turned. Stopped. Turned back and launched himself at John. In one swift move he took John Laurier in his arms and used the back of his foot to kick the door closed behind him. John kissed him once, and Ben pulled back. But then he walked forward, and kept walking forward until John was pressed up against a table beside the window. Breathing heavily, gazing down into those ravenous blue eyes, Ben had the presence of mind to smoothly, and calmly, pick up the candle by the windowsill and move it to a dresser farther down.


    And then he kissed John. He didn¡¯t know for how long. The heat of the room somehow intensified his lust, and Ben reached down and lifted the dress and found John¡¯s piece, and worked it. He needn¡¯t have. It was as rigid as stone, and Ben felt seized by wondrous power, for his hand could hold the Ladyman¡¯s whole cock within it. John moaned as Ben worked him in slow, rhythmic strokes, and then he reached down to hastily unbuckle Ben¡¯s belt and pulled out his cock, which landed with a smack on top of his.


    They both looked down at it. Ben¡¯s larger manhood dwarfing John¡¯s, both breathing heavily as Ben thrust his hip, grinding their pieces. John slowly laid back on the table, and lifted both his feet into the air. Ben held both of John¡¯s ankles and kept thrusting. They both became loud, their breathing heavy, as well as their grunting. Ben thrusted again. And again. Unable to take it any longer, he pulled off his shirt and let his pants puddle at his feet, and lifted John¡¯s legs so high that his ass presented itself.


    Ben stopped himself just short of entering him. But when he looked at John, he saw a fragile smile, and a desperate nod. He wanted it. In fact, he was prepared, and handed Ben a bottle. Ben knew what it was, and slowly dripped the oil onto his own piece, then John¡¯s. And when he slid into John, Ben gasped. It had been ages since they¡¯d done the act this way, and Ben had sworn it would never happen again. Forbade himself to even think of it. And now that it was happening and John was reaching up to touch Ben¡¯s face, Ben indulged his other fantasy and gripped John¡¯s oiled cock and began stroking lightly, timing it with each thrust.


    ¡°I¡¯m yours!¡± John moaned. ¡°I¡¯m completely¡­and utterly¡­yours!¡± A tear fell from his eyes and Ben had never been so thrilled, so happy, so¡­


    In love.


    The feeling might soon fade, he knew. It might evaporate like rain on hot stone, come and go and seem like a dream, just like the fourteen-day darkness. But for now, in this moment, pure physical ecstasy was all that mattered. He couldn¡¯t have stopped himself if he tried. Only John could stop him, and John clawed at him hungrily.


    There was no stopping them. Not for an hour or more, there was no stopping them. Not even after Ben was spent, he merely rested a moment before flipping John over and taking him from behind. Surely people heard them through the floorboards, and down the hall. Surely this put both their lives at risk. But what matter, when there was no place on Earth for them? Not anywhere, perhaps not even in that long night. Let them make this their place, Benjamin figured, justifying anything in his lust¡ªany danger, any threat.


    A gunshot pierced the night. Someone was shouting down the street. Port Royal was loud and vulgar and neither the Devil¡¯s Son nor the Ladyman gave any of it a care. Let a tidal wave come and take it all while they enjoyed one another¡¯s embrace, in a room where nothing but their love and pleasure existed.


    ____


    After midnight, they lay awake. The candle had nearly guttered out. They both lay in bed, on their sides, facing each other. John¡¯s fingers ran through Ben¡¯s chest hair, then found the locket hanging from his neck. ¡°You never took this off,¡± he said.


    ¡°How could I?¡±


    ¡°Easily. You just take it off.¡±


    ¡°And risk your wrath?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know my mind.¡±


    ¡°As easily count the stars as know your mind, John,¡± Ben said.


    John touched his own locket. ¡°When we cut our hands and spilled our blood on these lockets, we swore we would never part. We swore it on a night just like tonight, in post-coital bliss. But then you left.¡±


    ¡°I had a job to do¡ª¡±


    ¡°But you left. After you said you wouldn¡¯t. I wonder, will you do so again?¡±


    Ben looked at him. ¡°What are you planning, John?¡±


    The Ladyman kept playing with Ben¡¯s chest hair. ¡°Patience, my love. You must learn patience.¡±


    ¡°I have enough patience for you.¡±


    ¡°Then that¡¯s half what you¡¯ll need for what I¡¯ve got in the works, luv.¡±


    They lay there a while. Benjamin watched as John¡¯s eyes grew heavy. They both started to drift off to sleep. Somewhere down the street, someone was screaming, there were a few raised voices. But Benjamin¡¯s mind was far afield, and suddenly he felt the need to make a confession, something he had been holding in for almost two weeks. ¡°I saw something on the pink moon.¡±


    John slowly opened his eyes. ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°When there were two moons, I took out the spyglass and I looked at the pink one. And I saw something on it.¡±


    John propped his head on his hand. ¡°What did you see, luv?¡± he said, his eyes now focused completely on Benjamin¡¯s furrowed brow.


    Benjamin had banished the memory since seeing it, and so now he had to recall those slithering, writhing shapes. ¡°Creatures. Long, sinewy things, with long, flapping wings. They moved slowly. Very slowly. But their movement¡­they were lumbering creatures, and I thought I saw¡­great shadows. They cast shadows on the pink moon, John. Do you know what that means? It means they were some strange animals hovering in the sky between us and that new moon. If they were casting shadows against the moon, it means they were on the moon. Which would make them¡­titanic creatures.¡±


    John shook his head. ¡°How big?¡±


    ¡°Big.¡±


    ¡°As in¡­the size of a galleon? Twice as big as a galleon?¡±


    ¡°Our moon is estimated to be many thousands of miles across. The pink moon was at least of equal size, John. That means the distance between us and the moons has to be, some reckon, a hundred thousand miles or more. Aristarchus, a Greek astronomer, he did all the maths. Figured it out.¡±


    John frowned. ¡°But if you could see them from that distance¡­and they were casting shadows on the moon¡­then they would be¡­¡±


    ¡°Hundreds of miles in length. Thousands. Each one of them.¡±


    ¡°No animal is that large.¡±


    ¡°No. None on God¡¯s green Earth. None in the sea.¡±


    John laid his head down on the pillow, closed his eyes, and held Ben¡¯s hand tightly. ¡°Otis says the phenomenon may be happening all over the world.¡± Ben looked at him sharply. John opened his eyes. ¡°We may have new company, Ben. New visitors.¡±


    Ben blinked. ¡°From where, though?¡±


    ¡°From the¡ªwhat did you call it? The firmament?¡± He shrugged. ¡°What if this isn¡¯t over, Ben? I¡¯m frightened. I would never say this aloud to any other person. But Ben¡­I¡¯m very, very frightened.¡±

 Chapter 18: One Dark Rumour

    The Brethren ¨C A syndicate of privateers, with ships and letters of marque and reprisal, regulating themselves so as not to have privateers mistaking one another for pirates and to organize themselves into a more efficient fighting force. Based primarily in Haiti and Port Royal, they originated by French Huguenot and British Protestants, but grew to accept Spaniards, Dutch, and, importantly, escaped slaves.


    ONE DARK RUMOUR is all it ever took to undo a civilization, be it a town, a city, or a country. We all know this. It could be a small rumour, just talk of a king¡¯s son betraying him, or a prince¡¯s wife cuckolding him, or it could be something wild and egregious, like the tale of a small town near Amesbury, whose entire population somehow became ill and then forgot how to speak. Men might scoff. But give it enough witnesses, and rumour might become lore. A dark rumour, well timed, well attested, by multiple accounts, is all it ever took.


    The pools of blood stood long in the autumn heat, and were either partially soaked in the mud or else standing clearly in long streaks that led down to the shore. The people of Port Royal heard the rumours. There were folk that heard screaming in the night, and some folk¡ªmostly late-night drunkards¡ªwho claimed to have seen men and women dragged through darkness. Some survivors had marks on their arms and legs, which became infected like the sting of a jellyfish. One man died from fever, which was perhaps unrelated, but he died nonetheless. The survivors all said they had been attacked by something. Something in the dark. The Constable¡¯s Office investigated, and declared it had likely been a wild animal from the jungle. But what animal, they could not say.


    And then there was the sunrise. A bit late, wasn¡¯t it? Yes, just a few minutes past the normal seven-thirty-one rise. And the sun was strange, too, wasn¡¯t it? Yes, perfectly yellow, but with a blood-red ring around it, almost imperceptible to the eye. The gossip began that the crews of the Lively and the Hazard had brought some curse with them.


    Benjamin was unaware of this rumour at the moment. He watched the bizarre sunrise from the second-story window of The Dashing Inn, while John slept on the bed behind him. And Benjamin wondered, Is it even our sun? For his theory was gathering evidence. Something had gone wrong with the heavens and the cosmos. Something unprecedented. He might be the only one in Port Royal to infer it, but he imagined learned men elsewhere in the world deduced it, too. They must.


    But that red ring faded by mid-morning, and now everyone wondered if it had only been some rare illusion. Those happened in the intensely humid air around Port Royal. Triple rainbows and silvery shimmers on the horizon were not uncommon. They will soon put this phenomena behind them, Benjamin thought. Until it returns again. And I think it might.


    Elsewhere, folk were wondering about the other phenomena. The blood in the streets, the witnesses that said they¡¯d been attacked in the night. And people were missing. Thirty-two of them. That was the total count handed over to the Governor¡¯s Office. Thirty-two people had vanished in the night. Not terribly unusual for Port Royal. All in one night? Sure, a little peculiar. And the puddles of blood, some of which led to the sea? It could merely be any number of pirate crews seeking retribution from others. It could be a vendetta being repaid. Could be a reckoning made by the Brethren, they¡¯d been known to conduct mass assassination in one night.


    But when it came out that none of the thirty-two missing people appeared to have anything in common, fears rose.


    But like the tide, fears receded, because the next night came and went without incident, and the sunrise was perfectly normal. As was the one after that, and the one after that. An anomaly, yes, that was all it had been, everyone agreed. It was probably nothing at all. As Vhingfrith walked the streets, and paid his visits to old allies of his father, seeking their favours, he heard the talk. People in the Fish Market remarked on the absence of Rafael, a young boy who once manned a stall there. Utterly gone. And he heard men in drinking halls speak of ghosts rising up out of the briny deep, snatching people that had wronged them in life. These stories were little different than those long told of men facing off against krakens or sirens. So it did not worry Vhingfrith overmuch.


    But he was paying attention. He kept close watch on the heavens. Each night he and John met for a tryst, he looked out from their second-story window at the night sky and marked the distance between the constellations. All was in order at the moment.


    One evening, Vhingfrith paid visit to Edward Forester, a master-parker of the ordnance wharf, who still owed one or two favours to his father. But Mr. Forester declined to repay them to the son. Letting that go, he checked in with the Lively, to ensure she was getting the care she needed. He was happy to run into Mr. Dawson down by the docks, and even happier to learn he was open to the idea of sailing again with on the Lively. They shook hands and agreed to discuss salary and shares later.


    ¡°Did you hear about what happened, Cap¡¯n?¡± Dawson said.


    Vhingfrith nodded, played it down. He left Dawson on the docks and tossed out a benign comment about how this was all just an anomaly.


    Yes, just an anomaly. Perhaps that was all these disappearances amounted to. Even Vhingfrith found it credible. In fact, many of the people that had not seen any of the puddles of blood, nor seen any people being dragged away into the night, were already thinking that the witnesses had just caught on to the common hysteria, and blown everything out of proportion.


    But the crews of the Lively and the Hazard all saw similarities in an event they cared never to think about again. Vhingfrith heard some of them gossiping in drinking halls. Some of them colluded by sending a joint letter to the Governor¡¯s Mansion and the island tribunal, demanding this be looked into, demanding the local priests be consulted. The next day, a post was made in the Fish Market that another investigation would be launched into the matter. That was the last anyone heard about Lord Hamilton¡¯s involvement.


    Days passed and nothing got done. Men¡¯s bones became soaked in grog and wine, and soon the story of thirty-two missing people passed into the fog of rum and myth. Because here was another murder, a man knifed in the street by two pirates who absconded, and now the King¡¯s Militia were scouring the streets for them. Someone had tried stealing cargo from a felucca parked at the docks, and they were to be hanged soon.


    Life moved on.


    Then a ship came into port. A merchantman called the Honest. Its captain, a respected man named Howell, claimed news was touching all ports in the Caribbean. The strange, piss-yellow moon some had claimed to see on that night of the mass disappearances had been spotted by at least two ships at sea, and chronicled by people as far away as Horn Bay.


    But a month passed. October was here and the weather was more pleasant. It was a good season for fishing, and so far four Spanish galleons had been sunk or taken a prize by privateer forces at sea. It was done by privateers from Hispaniola. The Brethren ships, all. And when those ships came into port there was much celebration. Once more, the story of Port Royal¡¯s thirty-two missing people faded into legend.


    Captains Vhingfrith and Laurier continued their casual affair throughout this time. Because they made love almost every night, and while their ships were being repaired¡ªVhingfrith¡¯s in port, and Laurier¡¯s in the Turtle Crawles¡ªthey had nothing but time to speak while lying atop sweaty sheets and watching the candlewick burn away to nothing. And, as they talked, and argued, and fought, and talked some more, and made love, they came to an agreement on how to spend their time together. Vhingfrith agreed that it was fine if they were seen in public together, but only as colleagues, and that there should be no outward sign of affection. Laurier might¡¯ve pouted, but saw the logic.


    But there were terms of their relationship, and delineations of boundaries. Vhingfrith would not tell Laurier about the offer from Munt, and so far Laurier had not revealed what he meant to do about Raymond Smith¡¯s sugarcane plantation. But they both knew that each other had plans brewing, and that they could work towards them independently.


    ¡°But whatever you¡¯re cooking, John,¡± Benjamin told him one night before bed, ¡°I cannot know what it is. For both our sakes.¡± That was where they left it.


    And Port Royal was in such rejoicing over the Brethren¡¯s many victories at sea that they came to forget about the two captains of the Molly-house, and their obvious love affair. So, once again, Port Royal had become a ripe place to find men and women to crew a ship.


    But a dark rumour may undo any civilization.


    ____


    At any ordinary coffee-house in the modern world, you wouldn¡¯t expect to see the dregs of society sitting at tables beside the upper crust, touching elbows. It would never happen in the Royal Navy, nor the Marines, where one¡¯s social class quite literally determined what sort of rank they would receive and what sort of military work they would be responsible for. Upper-class nobles never spoke to lower-class labourers. But in Port Royal that¡¯s exactly what you saw, everywhere, all the time. The most popular coffee-house was at the southern edge of York Street, and here you would find militiamen shrugging off their coats, pirates guffawing and slapping each other, privateers planning their next venture, noblemen crafting their next business deal, sailors still in their slops drinking alone until their minds were numb, and officers of the Royal Navy wiping filthy seats before they sat down. And they often intermingled, for the navy had use of the information they got from privateers, and noblemen often couldn¡¯t find anyone besides a pirate to do what he needed done.


    Up and down the street, Port Royal was lousy with slack-jawed pirates and sun-beaten privateer crews carrying their duffel and walking in huddled, self-aware masses, along with well-dressed officers and even a few well-to-do ladies, all clutching purses and wary of pickpockets. The upper classes had fortunes and appearances to maintain, and so tried to keep to the mud-covered sidewalks while the sailors had unofficial dominion of the street.


    John sat across the table from Benjamin, both of them luxuriating in the sun, both of them aware of the looks they were attracting. John was in breeches and a gentleman¡¯s frock coat, but his face was a little painted up, just lipstick and rouge, his wheat-coloured hair braided and draped over his shoulder. Benjamin sat cross-legged like a gentleman, gazing down into his coffee cup, pondering what John had just asked him. Across the street, Handel was wafting out of the Gallery, as the music hall¡¯s musicians were cuing up for the night¡¯s performance.


    ¡°Well?¡± John said. It usually didn¡¯t bode well when Ben took this long to think.


    Ben sighed. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I won¡¯t have occasion to go with you on another venture, John. I¡¯m sorry. Especially since you won¡¯t tell me what it is you¡¯re planning.¡±


    ¡°If you aren¡¯t coming along, better you didn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t doubt it. I cannot help you, in any case. I¡¯ve already made arrangements with Mr. Munt.¡± He added, ¡°And it wouldn¡¯t look good, John. Not now. Not with all that¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°You mean it wouldn¡¯t look good to your friend Woodes Rogers.¡±


    Benjamin straightened his jacket, if only to distract his own thoughts a moment. This was a contentious subject for them, and had come up constantly in the weeks since their return to Royal. ¡°You heard Hollinger. And I¡¯ve received a letter from Rogers confirming everything Hollinger said. There is a real chance to find the Le¨®n Coronado and the Santo Domingo de Guzman stalking the waters around the Bocas del Drag¨®n.¡±


    ¡°Then off you must go.¡± John sipped his coffee, wincing at the sugariness. ¡°And so I shall be here, your poor, dear sweetheart, standing at the pier pining for you. I shall cry every night until you return.¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°You weep for no one.¡±


    ¡°If you believe that, then you don¡¯t know me.¡±


    ¡°I know you well enough.¡±


    ¡°Then tell me. Read my palm.¡± John held out a gloved hand.


    Ben smiled, reminding John of years gone by when he¡¯d done it often. ¡°I don¡¯t need to read your palm to know why you turned down Rogers¡¯s invitation.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then tell me,¡± John said.


    Ben sipped his coffee, and glanced to his left at four men playing a dice game in the street. Looked like they were playing Hazard. The caster had two dice in his hand and was blowing into his palm before chucking them.


    Ben lifted his tricorne hat and fanned himself. Just watching him sweat made John want to tear off his clothes, here and now.


    Ben finally said, ¡°You have about you that quality that can only be identified by a close enough friend.¡±


    ¡°And what quality is that?¡±


    ¡°Disliking someone with such severity that you will not take their advice, simply out of not wanting to see them happy that you did as they asked.¡± Ben set the tricorne back on the table. ¡°You hate Rogers for all that he did to the other pirates in this city, some of whom were your friends, I know.¡± Ben composed himself, trying not to see the image of John Laurier swinging from a gallows. ¡°It isn¡¯t safe for you here, John. Not anymore. You¡¯ve seen the posters going up. This port is about to see a good many pirates with stretched necks.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s no safer here for you, Ben,¡± John said, gesturing to the street, where just now Osterholm happened to be walking with a courtesan on each arm. The Jew tossed a look to the Ladyman and the Devil¡¯s Son, one that John thought was of dark portent. ¡°You see? Even your former crew has nothing but loathing for you. Throw a rock in this place, and you¡¯ll hit someone wants you dead.¡± He smiled. ¡°So don¡¯t worry about me, they won¡¯t walk me onto any gallows. Not with Spain pushing so hard into these waters now. They¡¯ll need every felucca, sloop, and settee they can throw at Philip¡¯s forces.¡±


    ¡°Or not,¡± Ben said, looking out at the rising sun. ¡°These phenomena¡­John, they have me worried. I¡¯ve been thinking about what you said the other night, and if I¡¯m right, and the firmament is real, it could mean a reordering of the whole world.¡±


    ¡°Good. Then perhaps we can get something besides Handel,¡± John said, gesturing towards the music hall. ¡°All that screeching. That¡¯s music? Baroque style, they call it. Do you know they say King George is an admirer? Makes sense. Bloody German. Can¡¯t get my head around it: how did England wind up with a king who can barely speak English and listens to Handel? No wonder the world is in tatters.¡±


    ¡°I mean it, John. Something otherworldly is happening. Can you not feel it?¡±


    John waved a dismissing hand, one gloved in white satin, and with bejeweled bracelets clattering. ¡°The world will go on apace.¡±


    ¡°You believe that?¡±


    ¡°Faith. The powers that be always adapt. Like a child whose parents are slaughtered. What else is there to do but continue on as before? Spain¡¯s power grows. France¡¯s star, too, is ascendant. England will not abide either.¡±


    ¡°If that is the case, then I am sure she will prevail,¡± Ben said.


    John smiled ruefully at him. ¡°Why do you defend her? England is such a stultifying, oppressive place, one which you¡¯ve never even set foot in, yet you defend her like she¡¯s your mother.¡±


    ¡°England provides order. The world needs order or else it collapses.¡±


    ¡°England provides a simulacrum of order, I don¡¯t disagree. But it is hardly the only means.¡±


    Ben snorted. ¡°You mean to revisit your invitation, to invite me to leave England behind forever and join you and the Republic.¡±


    ¡°You are trying to push me towards Rogers¡¯s invitation to all pirates, to toss aside the Code and become a privateer instead. It¡¯s only fair you listen to my invitation, too.¡±


    Ben shook his head. ¡°No Republic of Pirates will ever be recognized by any formal government, John.¡±


    ¡°Who needs recognition from them? And why should our own government be so formal?¡±


    ¡°Without government there are no laws.¡±


    John chuckled. ¡°You know the thing about laws? Taxes follow after them, quick as the cart behind the horse.¡±


    ¡°And so?¡±


    ¡°All these empires want to tax a man, but don¡¯t want to give him any say in how his government is to be run. No representation. England wants the Caribbean to establish a base from which to launch their offences against the Spanish and French, but King George has forgotten who already runs Port Royal. It belongs to us pirates. We won¡¯t stand for their order, their law, nor their tax.¡±


    ¡°And then there will be a war and your side will lose, John. Mark me, England will crush your fledgling Republic and that¡¯ll be the end of it.¡±


    ¡°The end of it? You¡¯re sure? What of the islanders here? The natives? What of the slaves that outnumber their masters on most islands five-to-one? Will they remain subservient to England for all eternity? And what of the discontent growing in the Colonies? I¡¯ve heard some say there are those talking of throwing off the shackles of England altogether.¡±


    Ben shook his head disapprovingly. ¡°They would never. They can¡¯t survive. Not without proper governance.¡±


    ¡°What man needs governance who has his own will?¡±


    Ben laughed. ¡°Oh, John! We cannot all afford to be as misanthropic as you. Some of us have bonds. Bonds that keep us warm at night.¡±


    ¡°My misanthropy is not as misguided as you might think. There are many, many men and women who feel as I do. And what bonds, pray tell? Who is it that is your friend, if not me? Who besides me will burn all of Port Royal to the ground if anyone in it tried to harm so much as a hair on your head? Who besides the Ladyman accepts your love and friendship as currency enough? Who, Benjamin?¡±


    Captain Vhingfrith said nothing. The Ladyman knew how to keep talking until someone else was in a corner, and Vhingfrith knew better than any to stop talking when he was placed in checkmate. His mother had taught him, Better to hold one¡¯s tongue and let others wonder if they¡¯ve pegged you truly as an idiot, than to open your mouth and prove them right. He downed the last of his coffee, stubbornly ignoring John smiling at him the whole time. Then he said, ¡°I have a meeting with Munt.¡±


    They both stood up. John said, ¡°I have a few meetings, as well, as it happens. A raid to plan.¡±


    Vhingfrith put on a look of concern. ¡°Are you going to tell me what you¡¯re up to or not? I would feel better if¡­if I knew¡­what happened to you. If¡­that is¡­¡±


    John¡¯s smile broadened. ¡°Why, Captain Vhingfrith.¡±


    ¡°Stop it.¡±


    ¡°Are you afraid I might go off and die and you¡¯d never hear from me again? Now who¡¯s the damsel pining at the pier?¡±


    ¡°Stop it, I said.¡±


    ¡°You know how my plans are,¡± John said, as they started walking down York Street. ¡°They are¡­like dreams. They come to me in fits and starts, and in my spare time I play with them. The dream-plans come to me especially after I¡¯ve been reading on the campaigns of brilliant tacticians.¡±


    ¡°Such as?¡±


    ¡°Julius Caesar, Ivan Molonotovi, Olga of Kiev.¡±


    ¡°Olga of Kiev. I¡¯m not familiar. What did she do?¡±


    ¡°A very clever ploy with pigeons. And fire. Burned a whole city to the ground.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    John shook his head. ¡°And nothing.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not planning to burn a city to the ground, I hope.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m chasing after something grand, Ben. Something I¡¯ve never really had. Something all of us want but never dared imagine it possible.¡±


    Benjamin took on another worried look. ¡°John¡­don¡¯t go and do anything¡­unusual. Not now. Not with the eyes of the governor watching. And Woodes Rogers.¡± He leaned forward earnestly. ¡°I can see it in your eyes. You go from one diabolical scheme to the next, always with increasing stakes. Whatever this is, don¡¯t. Just don¡¯t do it.¡±


    ¡°If you want something you¡¯ve never had, Benjamin, you must do something you¡¯ve never done.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re making all this sound very romantic. But romance has killed more than one sailor.¡±


    John just smiled and said, ¡°I leave you to Mr. Munt.¡± They had stepped into an alley, where enough shade and cover provided them momentary shelter from the world. John surprised Ben with a soft kiss on the cheek, and then curtseyed. ¡°Good day, Captain Vhingfrith. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m too busy to fraternize further, but I¡¯ll see you tomorrow tonight, I should think.¡±


    ¡°No, you won¡¯t. I¡¯ve been invited to the ridotto tomorrow night.¡±


    ¡°How funny, I¡¯m also going to the Masquerade.¡±


    ¡°What¡­you¡­but they would never¡ª¡±


    ¡°Never what? Invite a poof? A pirate poof, to boot? Captain Vhingfrith, I weep that you doubt my powers of infiltration.¡±


    ¡°John, you¡¯re not going to the Masquerade Ball! I forbid you!¡±


    John gasped, and laughed. ¡°Forbid me? ¡®Forbid me,¡¯ he says!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s for officers only, and there isn¡¯t any chance of you getting inside without an¡ªhow are you planning to get in?¡±


    ¡°Ah-ah, did we not agree to not share our individual plans with one another?¡±


    ¡°But this is¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your night to shine. Rub elbows with the upper class. I know, Ben,¡± John said seriously. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare ruin this for you. That is why you shall never see me.¡±


    ¡°You cannot go.¡±


    ¡°Or else what?¡±


    Ben leaned closer. ¡°Or I¡¯ll take effectual means to restrain you. Let that suffice.¡±


    John gave another little curtsey and spun around. ¡°Chat later, Benjamin.¡±


    ¡°Damn you, John. You are constitutionally incapable of not be mysterious and it infuriates me.¡± And makes me love you, Benjamin thought regrettably, as he watched John walk towards Queen Street.


    ____


    Jack was hungry.


    The sun was high when she dropped the rope ladder and descended to the jungle floor, and even as she walked into Port Royal she had no idea what she was going to do for food. Having been caught mid-pickpocket by the fat man at The Golden Goose had shaken her confidence, and more and more her mum¡¯s good sense encroached on her. I am going to have to leave here soon. That thought suddenly struck like a bell inside her mind, even as hunger bore a hole through her belly. Or else serve the men in the warehouses.


    The streets were busy as always, and there were plenty of marks, but she was less confident today about her status than she had been yesterday. She looked to the North Docks, at the ships anchored there. One was a naval ship called the Restoration, and all the others belonged to privateers and merchants. One privateer vessel was the Duke, captained by Woodes Rogers, the pirate hunter.


    Would he let me sail with him? Then, No. No girls permitted onboard. And eventually he would discover I am no boy.


    Again and again, she came back to the conclusion that only a pirate vessel was in her future.


    She walked west through the Merchants Exchange, looking for any prime mark. Men in spotless black coats trudged through mud thick with horse dung, as did blue-skirted ladies and their slaves and handmaids. Any of them would do, but Jack¡¯s left hand kept unconsciously touching her right wrist, the wrist the fat man had grabbed hold of. It had terrified her, and in one black instant she¡¯d seen herself swinging from a gallows, or else flung into some dungeon at Marshallsea Prison, where they would discover she was a girl and do things to her.


    Fear was growing every moment she lived, in her heart, in her stomach.


    She walked on past the Customs House, and looked at the soldiers, some in their red coats, some in their brown jackets. The King¡¯s Militia was disorganized from what she¡¯d been told, sometimes they wore the red coats of marines, and other times whatever they could find at home to wear. She wondered if she could somehow pass as a man forever, buy her own shoddy clothes and join up¡ª


    Hunger ate at her belly, stealing her thoughts.


    Jack started wondering seriously about food. She could go to Mr. Cowert, he¡¯d given her free meals before, but she knew she could lean on his generosity only so long. She was getting older and already he was saying that Jack needed to find an honest living. But she had no skills. None but shooting and pickpocketing.


    She looked west. At the warehouses. Her eternal future may rest there and she was afraid of it.


    She kept walking until she came to the Turtle Crawles and saw the more ¡°questionable¡± vessels anchored there. Ships like the Cunning and the Fare-thee-well, known pirate ships that had changed hands from various crews and various captains. Her eyes drifted across two ships she didn¡¯t know, a brig called the Little Missy, and a sloop-of-war called the¡ª


    Hazard.


    She was still anchored here? How had Jack missed that? Many times Jack¡¯s father told her about the Hazard and its strange history. Once owned by a privateer of some repute, he and all his crew died of plague and dysentery, and the ship had been cursed, its three or four survivors sailing her into Kingston some years ago before finally dying themselves. The Hazard had sat in a shipbreaking yard for almost a year, no one wanting to buy the doomed vessel, until at last it had found a buyer.


    If ever there was a sailing vessel that permitted all sorts, it be the Hazard. It was said she was captained by a man-woman, who had both lady parts and man parts, who was born when a sailor made love to a siren. What was the Ladyman¡¯s real name? John Laurier, that¡¯s it. Jack started walking towards the docks, gazing upon the Hazard. Captain Laurier was said to be a fearsome swordfighter, and a lethal combatant at sea.


    Jack walked up to the Hazard and gazed up at its gangplank. She found a man hauling rope on the dock, and asked him, ¡°Can yeh tell me if the Ladyman is home?¡±


    ¡°Home?¡± The man barked out a laugh. ¡°Ladyman don¡¯t stay on the ship all the time, lad. He¡¯s out and about, cavortin¡¯ and carousin¡¯ like the rest of ¡¯em.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Who knows? Ask around.¡±


    ¡°All right. Thankee. Oh, do yeh happen to knows when she¡¯ll be a-settin¡¯ sail again?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly. Word is soon.¡±


    Jack¡¯s eyes traced the Hazard¡¯s long lines. ¡°Thankee,¡± she said, and left. Hunger bit at her again, and now she was actually feeling a little lightheaded. She decided to return to the Merchants Exchange and find herself a mark, but as miserable as she was with hunger, she at least knew what she wanted now. And if anyone would accept her, it would surely be the Ladyman.

 Chapter 19: The Masquerade Ball

    Vandyke dress ¨C A costume dress, worn by women and sometimes even men, in masquerade balls.


    bauta ¨C the traditional porcelain-white, beak-like mask worn in masquerade balls.


    DOBBS SAW HIS father standing on a hilltop, amid an array of verdant green hills that he¡¯d never seen before, but the dream somehow informed him that it was meant to be his home. His mother was walking up the hill, shouting up at her husband. Mother was mad about something and Dobbs was waiting for the argument to be over so that he could ask Father for permission to go to the fair in¡ª


    He was half in this dreamworld, half in the real. Golden bars of sunlight were coming through the slats in the window, having crept along the floor, and were now crawling across his face, prising his eyes open. Part of him knew he was in Port Royal, and another part of him knew he was somehow at the foot of that hill, looking up at both his parents bickering. At some point, they turned and looked at him, their disapproval evident. And the dream somehow conferred to him that they knew he¡¯d slept with a paike, and that he¡¯d sailed with pirates, and that he¡¯d killed Hazard¡¯s quartermaster. How they could know that, when that was still in their future, he didn¡¯t know.


    But the sunlight kept at it, and eventually it weaseled its way in through the gap between his eyelids. The dream faded and Dobbs looked down at the tangled sheets around his feet, his exposed prick still in the clutches of the paike Anne had paid for when she¡¯d learned he hadn¡¯t yet lost his cherry. There had been laughter at his expense in the galley, all of them drinking, especially Dobbs, who still didn¡¯t know how to hold his alcohol.


    The paike¡¯s breath still smelled of wine. Dobbs pushed her away and peeled her hand away from his prick and searched the floor for his breeches.


    Some of it was a blur. He recalled Anne taking him by the hand and leading him away from the Hazard, and he recalled her spitting in the face of a man that tried to grab her, and then her negotiating with the pimp who controlled the paikes at The Heavy Anchor. He remembered being so sick with rum he had almost thrown up from nerves when the big, plump woman waved him into her room. He remembered watching her lift up her skirt. Remembered her unbuttoning his breeches. There was a fog around the memory of him actually penetrating her.


    Dobbs stood at the window and looked out onto Lime Street. There was a train of wagons pulled by oxen and laden with straw. The stink of shit came wafting in from the street. A body lay beside the road in naught but a loincloth¡ªdead or only sleeping one off, he didn¡¯t know.


    A knock at the door. He answered it. It was Anne, barefoot and in breeches and an untucked tunic. A black, sleepy-eyed paike was behind her, arms wrapped lightly around her waist. She was giving Anne light kisses on the neck. ¡°You ¡¯bout done in there, Dobbs?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he croaked. Then he cleared his throat and said it more loudly, ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then get cleaned up. Captain has something he wants us to see.¡±


    ¡°Yes, mum.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me fucking mum again,¡± she laughed, and descended the stairs to the main floor.


    Dobbs shut the door, and looked back at the paike still sleeping in the bed Anne had rented for the night. He thought he ought to say something. Seemed appropriate. But he decided to leave it, and went to the wash basin and poured water over his head¡ªand used fresh soap around his crotch, he recalled Anne giving him that warning vividly¡ªand then pulled on his belt and holsters, and checked the mirror before he left to make sure his eyepatch was straight, then joined Anne out in the street, where she was still kissing the black woman goodbye. Dobbs squinted in the early morning sun. From the hilltop, he could just see the Hazard out in the Turtle Crawles, still anchored amid two dozen other ships, all unable to afford the wharfage fees of the proper docks.


    He looked back at Anne, still saying her goodbyes to the paike.


    Dobbs tried to look tough standing there. Pirates, privateers, and officers of the law all went strutting by. Many of the officers were on horseback, and they gave him glares. They knew who he was. The young one-eyed rifleman of the Hazard, somewhat famous for the shots he had made in rough weather and darkness. A friend of the Ladyman. It felt good to know he had a name here, even if somewhere there was a green hill where the spirits of his mother and father stood and looked down at him reproachfully for it.


    ¡°If only you both could truly see how far I¡¯ve come,¡± he murmured.


    ¡°What was that?¡± said Anne, walking up.


    Dobbs started. ¡°Nothing. Just¡­talking to myself.¡±


    ¡°So, how was it, young man?¡± she said, once they were onto Queen Street, crossing the planks that traversed the muddy ditches being dug for new irrigation.


    ¡°It was¡­I hardly remember. I think it was fine.¡±


    ¡°Did you wash your nethers like I said?¡±


    ¡°I did. You don¡¯t have to ask.¡±


    ¡°I do. Trust me when I say, I do. You men are like pigs when you rut, you don¡¯t think about anything else during or after.¡±


    Dobbs didn¡¯t want to discuss this further. ¡°You mentioned the captain wanted us to see something.¡±


    ¡°Aye, he does.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Something to get us away from these landlubbers and back where we belong.¡±


    Dobbs tensed. ¡°Back out to sea?¡±


    She noted the tone in his voice. ¡°Why, does it worry you?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s just that¡­well, with what all has happened¡­what happened out there, it doesn¡¯t seem¡ª¡±


    ¡°If I can shake off a ghost messenger, so can you.¡±


    Dobbs looked up at her. Anne had confided in him what she saw the night of that yellow moon. Abner Crane, standing on the deck of the Hazard just as he had in life, except drenched in seawater and covered in seaweed. She¡¯d confided it while drunk, and made him swear not to tell Captain Laurier, claiming she was now certain it had only been a dream. ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of ghosts or monsters, Miss Anne.¡±


    ¡°No? Well, that¡¯s good. Captain can¡¯t abide cowards at sea.¡±


    Dobbs looked around at Queen Street. There was every reason in the world for a young man to love Port Royal, he figured, there were hardly any rules here, and there were so many places to hide amid the leaning huts and staggered adobe houses and crisscrossing planks and stone steps and crannogs and old forts, that if one did find himself on the wrong end of the law, it was an easy trick to make oneself scarce. And now that he had discovered the wonders of lying with a woman¡­


    But it was nothing compared to the open sea, to the feeling of salty wind in your hair, to the thrill of the chase when a potential prize was spotted on the horizon. More, now that he had earned himself a right to be talked about in the same sentence as John Laurier, he saw himself someday captaining his own crew, aboard his own ship, having his name written into the account with the likes of Blackbeard and Captain Kidd. What a famous thing that would be.


    Because it mattered to him that his mother and father saw him succeed where they had failed. Dobbs bore them no ill will, for they had tried and laboured, but neither of them had been able to garner him what the Ladyman had. No one had. And though this morning¡¯s dream had been only that, he believed that, while dreams were not necessarily reality, that also spoke of something taking place in a world beyond this one. No one had taught him to think this way, it was his own private thought, for what else were dreams if not some sort of message from the deepening ether?


    Anne led him into a nondescript, one-room adobe hovel at the south corner of Queen Street, where Captain Laurier and a number of the Hazard¡¯s crew had gathered with drinks. They all stood huddled around a long table with a map spread before them. Laurier was in male clothing, just tarpaulin pants and a clean white shirt. Not even his face was painted.


    When they saw Dobbs, every man turned to him and clapped their hands, and sang,


    ¡°For he¡¯s a jolly good fellow, for he¡¯s a jolly good fellow,


    For he¡¯s a jolly good fellowwww, and so say all of us!¡±


    Dobbs blushed because he knew why they were applauding. Anne¡¯s smile said it all.


    But while he felt embarrassed it also made his heart glad to see Captain Laurier encouraging the men to sing longer and louder. Then Laurier walked over and ruffled Dobbs¡¯s moppy hair and said, ¡°Now, tell me it wasn¡¯t fun!¡±


    And everyone laughed.


    Dobbs¡¯s face felt like it was on fire, but he couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    ¡°All right, lads, all right! Settle down! We¡¯ve had our fun at the poor boy¡¯s expense, now let us welcome him properly.¡±


    Isaacson handed Dobbs a mug. For Dobbs, that dampened the mood a bit, for he hadn¡¯t forgotten the night Isaacson pinned him down and tried to get his trousers off, and would¡¯ve done, if not for Jenkins and Tomlinson. He could see in Isaacson¡¯s eyes he secretly hoped it never got brought up again.


    ¡°Come see, boyos, come see,¡± said the Ladyman, now poring over the map. Dobbs looked at the map, realizing suddenly this was a meeting meant for planning, and that this was the first time he had ever been allowed into the confidence of these men during the planning stage for anything. ¡°Look here, lads, and behold the route of King Philip¡¯s greatest treasure. The route of the Spanish Silver Train.¡±


    There was hushed awe. Dobbs felt his lips part in an unuttered gasp.


    Captain Laurier looked each of them in the face, and grinned. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, lads, the Ladyman hasn¡¯t gone completely off his keel. Not yet. You all know the route changes year round, and that the schedules for each shipment is kept infrequent, random, so as not to be predictable to scallywags and scoundrels.¡±


    ¡°Like us,¡± Jenkins muttered.


    There were a few chuckles.


    The captain said, ¡°The ships that are part of this train of treasure carry with them Peruvian silver, but their holds are also loaded down with gifts for governors and tribal leaders all throughout Panam¨¢. Payment for deals made, jewels for bribing local leaders, and chests filled with ingots and pieces of eight, all bound for Philip¡¯s treasury. So you know they have damn good reason to keep these scheduled shipments random, secret, and bloody fucking protected.¡±


    ¡°Captain,¡± Tomlinson said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. ¡°Have you gotten yourself ahold of their next shipment schedule? Because even if so, those ships travel in twos and threes. We cannot take on that many¡ª¡±


    ¡°I have no such schedule, Tomlinson.¡±


    ¡°Then how are you even planning to find these ships?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re jumping ahead too far. When did I ever say we were taking these ships?¡±


    ¡°Then, beg pardon, Captain, but what¡¯re we doin¡¯?¡±


    Dobbs listened as the captain told them the plan. And when Laurier was finished, Dobbs looked around at the other astonished faces. All except for Anne Bonny, who smiled knowingly at him. Aren¡¯t you glad you came? her look said.


    It was a few moments while everyone imbibed the plan. A few of them had questions. Jenkins was laughing to himself in the corner, saying he couldn¡¯t wait to get started. Isaacson was shaking his head uncertainly. Kepler and Okoa were discussing the logistics of it all.


    Meanwhile, Dobbs was astonished that he had been allowed in on this plan at all, when typically crew were not told what their final orders were until they were at sea.


    That¡¯s when the Ladyman said, ¡°So now you see the significance of our raid at Raymond Smith¡¯s plantation. You see why this must happen. Now. No later than tomorrow. It is just the first step in the wider scheme.¡± He lifted a finger. ¡°But first.¡± He turned to Dobbs. ¡°You, young man.¡±


    ¡°Me, sir?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you. Have you ever been to a ball?¡±


    ____


    The upper class would not tolerate a Masquerade Ball. Though they had become de rigueur by first the French nobility and then the Italians, masquerades had in the most recent century become something of a scandalous thing. The events had a reputation for unseemly behaviour, unescorted women, and hedonistic things happening in secret parlours and dark gardens. But in recent years the Royal Family had been known to use them to entertain visiting delegates and nobility, and governors and high-ranking officers in the Caribbean sometimes used them for their original purpose, that of celebrating some great man¡¯s victory. But one mustn¡¯t call them masquerades, because that name was too tainted. Now, one must call them ridottos. Call them that, and there was no taboo.


    So if they were not masquerades, what should one call them? Ridottos. Call them that, and somehow that gave them a new level of prestige and fooled the public into thinking no sexual deviancy or corruption took place within.


    A popular rhyme went,


    In Lent, if a masquerade displeases the town,


    Call them ridottos instead, and they still go down.


    This night, as the carriages pulled up to the Governor¡¯s Mansion on the north side of the city, two very different dramas were unfolding. One drama had Captain Benjamin Vhingfrith at its center. He arrived in a red log coat adorned with gold buttons and silver embroidery, a cane meant only for fashion, sailor¡¯s boots, and his cutlass sheathed at his side. His gloves were wide at the cuffs. He¡¯d forgone wearing a Vandyke, but did bring a bauta, which he wore hanging around his neck upon approaching the gate. Here, he was met with a stiff smile from the derisive majordomo standing by the door. But Vhingfrith¡¯s invitation was inviolable, and so he was permitted inside. ¡°As long as you keep your mask up when in the main ball room, sir.¡±


    Vhingfrith obliged, and walked into a place he had not stepped inside since he was a boy, when his father brought him to meet then-Governor Lloyd. Since his father¡¯s death, Vhingfrith hadn¡¯t been invited back, nor even acknowledged by the island¡¯s rulers, all of whom owed his family a debt of gratitude for defending Port Royal from attacks by King Philip¡¯s fleets.


    The mansion would not have been called a mansion were it in any civilized place in England. But we¡¯re in Port Royal now, aren¡¯t we? And so it surpassed all other housing. It did have marble floors, and large wooden pillars with carvings depicting England¡¯s ships being dominant on the sea. There were high ceilings and a pair of crystal chandeliers that had been the original governor¡¯s one gift from the king for his diligence in commanding England¡¯s forces in the Caribbean. Candles sat in stone wall sconces, lanterns hung from stanchions in the small courtyard, and a single torch like a long, dark hallway that led secretively away from the main event.


    Portraits of long dead governors and a few naval captains adorned the walls in the large foyer. In the ballroom, a well-dressed quartet sat with their violins and harps, setting the mood with Baroque music. Moldering tapestries draped these walls, directly behind pedestals that held up ornate vases and curios captured from Aztec and Mayan civilization ages ago by long-dead English explorers, many of their names forgotten.


    Vhingfrith nodded to familiar faces, kissed the hands of masked women, some of whom lacked male escort, and some of whom had with them a slave attendant in fine coat and with a white wig. Vhingfrith and the slaves often locked eyes. They all knew their parts to play. Vhingfrith was trying to navigate English society as some species of freeman, while the slaves were all here to fuck their ladies or their ladies¡¯ friends, and hope that that gave them prestige.


    Vhingfrith met with Admirals Tate and Hedley, whose ships his father once served aboard during his brief stint as a lieutenant. Admiral Tate had had some small part in getting Arthur Vhingfrith the Lively, a brigantine built by a wealthy noble who¡¯d wanted to travel the world and have adventures as a privateer, only to die of some disease to his liver, and his widow sold the Lively, barely used, to the highest bidder.


    And over here was Lady Katherine Escott, the widow to Major Escott, who came to the Caribbean with a large contingent of Royal Marines a decade ago and was almost immediately killed and eaten by Carib natives. Lady Katherine had made a name for herself by wisely using the small fortune her husband left her to fund privateers, one of whom had been Arthur Vhingfrith. Benjamin recognized her even behind her abnormally large bauta, and kissed her hand and made small talk with her, even going so far as to ask her to dance to Vivaldi. And while they danced, he flattered her with comparisons to her younger daughter, and made her agree, by way of insinuation, to think of him when next she planned to fund a privateer crew.


    And all the while, Benjamin kept track of Governor Hamilton himself, orbiting the night¡¯s proceedings from the edge of the room, limping on his wooden leg, laughing through his wooden teeth at some joke or anecdote, and, occasionally, casting a glance in Benjamin¡¯s direction.


    Tonight was about connections: making them, and trying to determine which ones had already been made behind his back.


    Other privateers availed themselves of the Devil¡¯s Son. They wanted to hear his firsthand account of taking out the Nuestra Se?ora de la Purificaci¨®n. A retired admiral named Perry was most interested in the tactics employed during the storm, while some of the younger officers wanted to hear all about the fighting during the boarding action. Benjamin had learned how to tell stories in small, exciting snippets that both edified and yet kept the true horrors of combat carefully disguised, so as not to offend the wives on their arms.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I am reminded of a similar tactic as yours, not eight year ago,¡± said Perry, red-faced and slurping wine from a goblet. ¡°Captain DeLaney pulled a similar maneuver against the Spaniards at Jutland. It worked for the most part. But I say, dear chap, you went into a squall with minimum sail? While I agree that is the preferred method, you had shoals to your leeward, as well as a distant island, yes?¡±


    Benjamin smiled behind his mask. ¡°It¡¯s true, we could have run out of sea room. But I had conferred with my charts for two days beforehand, readying myself and drilling my crew, if and when the Nuestra showed. Still, the shoals were scraping like the dickens, gentlemen, like little fingernails up and down our hull.¡±


    The other officers all gave a shiver.


    Perry¡¯s wife, a round woman in elegant black gown, and who was hanging on his arm, lowered her bauta to say, ¡°Might I ask, what is so dangerous about that?¡±


    Perry chortled. ¡°Forgive the poor girl, I¡¯ve tried edifying her on our trade, lads, and yet she retains nothing. The fairer sex have this weakness, I find.¡±


    Benjamin was more accommodating. ¡°Because, my lady, being caught in a storm with shore to leeward is the nightmare scenario, it gives you nowhere to go, and if the storm suddenly dies down and you have no wind, the waves themselves may carry you crashing into rocks hidden just beneath the water, and rupture the hull. You are powerless to stop it.¡±


    Perry¡¯s wife nodded and smiled like she had just received a lesson to grow on.


    All seemed to be going well. Even if it was all artifice, even if they all were only indulging him as a curiosity as queer as a Komodo dragon, it was good to be seen and heard. Privateers could sometimes straddle the line between upper- and lower-class, befriending both pirate and officer. But Vhingfrith was determined to spend more time on this side of the city, to begin to mend his reputation, and reestablish old connections his father once built.


    But there were two dramas going on at the Governor¡¯s Mansion, as stated, and the second one involved a woman who arrived on foot in a fetching black-and-gold Vandyke and an ornate, fox-mask bauta, with her young, one-eyed, male attendant, who was dressed in a fine black coat with tails and a matching cocked hat.


    She called herself Lady Esmeralda, and said she¡¯d only just arrived from Kingston eight days prior. The invitation, taken from the pocket of a drunken gentleman the night before by the prostitute who¡¯d fallen in love with Anne Bonny, had been altered ever so slightly to admit John Laurier, who entered as Lady Esmeralda.


    ____


    The two dramas played out both separately and together, because while Laurier had told Vhingfrith he would never see him at the party, of course he did see him. How could he not? No one could miss the elegant gown and the young male attendant with the eyepatch. Vhingfrith saw Laurier and knew him by his not-quite-feminine sashay, and had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling at him from across the room. And he would have marched over and whispered something¡ªwhat, he didn¡¯t know¡ªbut something firm and chastising, but at the moment he was captured in the orbit of Lady Rose Durgett, a woman known for handling her dying husband¡¯s affairs and funding privateers, and Benjamin could not find a moment to slip away. So he was forced to half listen, half watch Laurier drift from doorway to doorway, from room to room, face covered by bauta, and attracting the gaze of both men and women.


    John Laurier kept the bauta tied firmly to his face. He floated from one conversation to another, sometimes disappearing from Benjamin¡¯s sight, which only worried Benjamin the more. He had always harboured a quiet pride in being able to find John anywhere, no matter the disguise.


    Whenever John alighted on a new group of people, Benjamin watched with clenched guts, wondering when they were going to realize the ruse. But it never happened. They have no bloody clue. They¡¯ve no idea they¡¯re talking to the Ladyman. The boldness of the ploy shocked Benjamin perhaps more than John¡¯s ploy against the Nuestra.


    Occasionally, their eyes met. Vhingfrith tried to convey a wave of disapproval. Laurier smiled and waved. Whenever Laurier laughed at someone¡¯s joke, he leaned forward, lightly touching their arm with a satin-gloved hand. The women particularly seemed to enjoy whatever he was saying, they couldn¡¯t stop laughing.


    Contemptible man! Vhingfrith thought. He¡¯s going to put us both in the stocks. But Vhingfrith had his own airs to maintain, and tried to remember to keep to polite conversation, even as he watched Laurier maneuver through the crowd and speak, in passing, to militia officers and privateer captains. They followed the Ladyman¡¯s sashaying form, long after he left them.


    ____


    ¡°What is this?¡± Vhingfrith asked, when finally he found a moment to tear himself away. He had seen Laurier and the boy Dobbs walking upstairs, to the balcony overlooking the ballroom, and followed him up. Laurier stood looking down on the quartet playing below, and spoke to Vhingfrith without looking at him.


    ¡°I beg your pardon, sir?¡±


    Vhingfrith looked around. The balcony had a few other people casually socializing, and while they could not help but occasionally look at visually arresting ¡°Lady Esmeralda¡± and her dress, they also probably were not close enough to hear anything anyone was saying, for the music and chatter about the ball echoed and carried. Still, Vhingfrith leaned in and whispered, ¡°And I see you¡¯ve roped poor Dobbs in with you.¡±


    ¡°Dobbs is his own man now,¡± said John. ¡°Made a man just last night. Isn¡¯t that right, Dobbs?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Cap¡­mum.¡± Dobbs hung back, just far enough away to hear his ¡°lady¡¯s¡± commands, like a good and trained servant.


    Vhingfrith fumed. ¡°That boy will follow you back into the Hellmouth if you wanted him to. He would throw himself in the water and let you use his body as a raft and his arms as oars, if it meant gaining your approval. And you abuse that love.¡±


    ¡°I asked the young man here if he wanted to join me for an evening at the Governor¡¯s Mansion,¡± John said.


    ¡°And I said yes,¡± Dobbs said.


    Vhingfrith waited until two women had walked past, then said, ¡°What exactly are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Did you know that the militia officer in charge of security at Raymond Smith¡¯s plantation is here tonight?¡± said Laurier, finally turning his fox-masked face to look at Vhingfrith. ¡°And did you know that he¡¯s still yet to turn in the keys to the special locks and chains that Smith uses on his slaves? Seems he and Smith have had an argument about the officer¡¯s final compensation, and Smith refuses to pay. So, the officer refuses to turn over a handful of items loaned to him by Smith.¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Dobbs, you may show him. Go on, it¡¯s all right.¡±


    Vhingfrith was puzzled. Then he looked over at Dobbs, who opened his coat, and pulled a keyring from a pocket. Vhingfrith was incensed. He gripped the balcony rail, and was glad he was wearing a bauta. ¡°God¡¯s wrath, man. What have you done?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re working here tonight, Ben, same as you.¡±


    ¡°You pickpocketed from a man at the Governor¡¯s Mansion?! At a ridotto, for God¡¯s sakes?! With officers littering the grounds¡ª¡±


    ¡°I see you making friends down below. That¡¯s good, Benjamin. I¡¯m happy for you. I know you don¡¯t believe that, but¡­I believe that if you ever find a thing you love, and it has been cold to your touch, and then one day it seems receptive to your touch instead, you ought to run towards it. Run towards the chance at love.¡±


    Vhingfrith sighed. ¡°Is this about¡­?¡±


    Laurier looked at him, his cold blue eyes boring into him. ¡°Us? Honestly, Captain, I don¡¯t know what anything with us is about. I¡¯ve given up trying to figure that out. All I know is that you have affection for me, but that mine is deeper than yours, because yours is split between the liberty the Republic represents and the chastity of England.¡± Laurier shrugged. ¡°It bedevils me, why you love these sorts. But, as I said, they are receptive to your touch now, so run towards love, Captain Vhingfrith.¡±


    ¡°John¡ªwhat the hell are you doing with Raymond Smith? What are you going to do with him? How does all this fit into your plans?¡±


    ¡°You said you didn¡¯t want to know, Captain.¡± Laurier looked down into the ballroom, and that thronging mass of strangely-dressed humans. ¡°Look at them. They do this once or twice a year and it¡¯s fine, but I do it every day, and am vilified. There is scarce a man but what now vexes me.¡± He stepped away from the balcony, and turned to Dobbs. ¡°Come, young man, let¡¯s see if we can¡¯t find some food.¡±


    ¡°¡¯Bout time, I¡¯m starving,¡± said Dobbs.


    ____


    Their two dramas continued throughout the night. Benjamin watched John from afar, and always tried never to be seen in the same proximity for too long, lest someone recall having seen them standing too close at the balcony and become suspicious. While he chatted with Lady Katherine and the captain of her ship, a short fellow named Gilmore, Benjamin spotted Dobbs making several return visits to the hors d¡¯oeuvres table and stuffing little sandwiches into his coat pockets. It was almost enough to make him storm out.


    The gall of them. Some things should remain sacred. And they¡¯ve already got the keys from the officer, what else could they¡ª


    ¡°Captain, do you hear what I said?¡± asked Lady Katherine.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what? Oh, yes, apologies. I thought I saw someone that I¡ªyes, you were saying, the Lilibet may have need of a new sailing master soon.¡±


    ¡°But only after she¡¯s seen repair,¡± said Captain Gilmore. He lifted his bauta to sip his wine, and his bald pate caught a glare of light. ¡°I daresay, after our last scuffle, we¡¯re lucky her mainmast did not break and fall into the water. It could have dragged us down into the briny deep.¡±


    ¡°Bad bit of bad luck, sir,¡± Benjamin said, glancing around for Dobbs and John. He had lost them both in the thickening crowd. ¡°But it¡¯s a good thing England trains her sailors better than Philip does.¡±


    ¡°Indeed!¡± Gilmore guffawed and slapped his thigh, which caused Lady Katherine to blanch. Gilmore¡¯s face was red from drink and Benjamin had learned that the man quite liked flattery. ¡°Indeed, the Spaniards are piss poor at it. I like to say, ¡®They are as like to sail up Pluto¡¯s arse as to¡ª¡¯¡±


    ¡°Captain!¡± the lady gasped.


    ¡°Apologies, my lady! Apologies! I¡¯m afraid I get a most foul tongue when I get deep into my cups. Most foul. Perhaps I should take my wife¡¯s advice on moderation.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you should.¡± Katherine fanned herself, but smiled at Gilmore in some way that, to Benjamin¡¯s eye, communicated a secret. ¡°But, as it stands, you¡¯ll likely have chance to get your revenge on the bloody Spaniards, Captain. If our host and impresario has anything to say about it. Isn¡¯t that right, Governor?¡±


    Benjamin had been about to sip his drink when he saw Lady Katherine looking over his shoulder. He had not heard anyone approaching, and to see Lord Hamilton limping over, chest puffing up the Vandyke he had changed into at some point in the night, Benjamin remembered the manners of his youth, and bowed courteously. ¡°Governor.¡±


    ¡°Well, well, Lady Katherine, I see you¡¯ve found two rapscallions to entertain you for the night,¡± Lord Hamilton boomed. ¡°You there. You¡¯re Captain of the Lilibet, are you not? Gilmore, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It is, sir, it is! Barclay Gilmore,¡± he said excitedly.


    ¡°I saw her in port yesterday. Why, I was just commenting to Major Ferringer that your poor Lilibet looked like she¡¯d been through the Hellmouth herself!¡±


    Gilmore looked a little chagrined, but recovered. ¡°She gave as good as she took, sir.¡±


    ¡°I jest, Captain, I jest. I am sure she gave as good. And who¡¯s this? Well, what am I saying? No use in pretending, we all know the man behind the owl-mask is the notorious captain of the Lively himself, returned from the Hellmouth. In fact, I believe it was men of your crew that began spreading the word throughout the city of this celestial phenomena.¡±


    Vhingfrith bowed again, and smiled politely. ¡°I hope my men¡¯s overactive imaginations haven¡¯t given the governor any sleepless nights.¡±


    Lord Hamilton threw his head back and laughed, revealing rows of large wooden teeth. ¡°Hear this man! ¡®Sleepless nights,¡¯ he says! Now here¡¯s a fellow who knows how to suffer mutiny and craven crewmen the way Daniel walked through the lion¡¯s den, and still keeps his sense of humour. Tell me, do they make more like you? So many captains act in deference to me and only ever wait for me to tell a joke, they never offer one of their own.¡±


    ¡°They build us hard on Antigua, my lord.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯ve heard, so I¡¯ve heard. Arthur Vhingfrith¡¯s son, as I live and breathe! Do you know, I met him on one or two occasions, back during Lloyd¡¯s stay here in Port Royal.¡±


    That piqued Vhingfrith¡¯s interest. ¡°I had no idea, sir.¡±


    ¡°It was only in passing. The only reason I¡¯m able to recall it was because I thought him passing strange. We were all at Lloyd¡¯s private villa, when your father showed up with the Negress lover, who some said he¡¯d already made his wife by that time. And, my God, dear boy, now that I think of it, she gave birth just a few short months later! Why, she must¡¯ve been pregnant with you and I never even knew it. Why, that makes this the second time you and I have been in the same room together!¡± the governor laughed.


    And Vhingfrith had to laugh, as well, not only because it was polite, but because the governor¡¯s laugh was infectious. He was about to make a joke about how he thought the governor¡¯s voice had sounded familiar, when suddenly he caught sight of John and Dobbs passing through the ballroom, muttering something to the quartet, and then, to his horror, the two of them started dancing together once the song began. An upbeat tune that attracted more people to the floor.


    ¡°She has your attention, does she?¡± said Hamilton, following Vhingfrith¡¯s gaze. ¡°The Lady Esmeralda is a most alluring mystery tonight. Almost all anyone¡¯s talking about, though they dare not look at her overlong.¡±


    ¡°Not while their wives are watching,¡± Lady Katherine put in, fanning herself.


    Vhingfrith recovered. ¡°She is most¡­unusual.¡±


    ¡°I say, did I not see the two of you conspiring up in the balcony there?¡±


    ¡°You may have seen us exchanging pleasantries.¡± He had to improvise. ¡°It turns out we know many of the same people, starting with my father.¡±


    Hamilton¡¯s humour was temporarily put aside for a most solemn look, and for a moment Lady Katherine and Captain Gilmore were totally forgotten. ¡°I was very sorry to hear what happened to your father, Captain. A most cunning fighter at sea, so I¡¯m told, and with a loyalty streak in him that stretched from here all the way back to his home in England, where half his heart was truly buried.¡±


    ¡°He dearly loved his king and country, sir.¡±


    ¡°No one that I ever heard of doubts it. And, as I understand it, that streak of loyalty runs thick in your veins, as well. It is said that upon returning from your hunt for the Nuestra, you immediately made yourself square with the Admiralty. A great gift for the Crown. I say, a great gift. Too bad you weren¡¯t able to take her a prize.¡±


    Vhingfrith shrugged. ¡°Both our ships were lightly manned, and some had already died. We couldn¡¯t risk taking the Nuestra all the way back to Port Royal. Too many of her crew still lived, they could¡¯ve easily mutinied and retaken the ship, and killed all of us, and then England would be minus both my loyalty and my gift to her.¡±


    ¡°Well said, well said, don¡¯t you agree, Lady Katherine?¡±


    ¡°Truer words never spoken,¡± said she, fanning herself harder. ¡°I¡¯ve often remarked to Captain Gilmore here that he ought to be just as judicious. I¡¯d rather him return with my ship intact than with¡ª¡±


    ¡°I say, Captain,¡± said Lord Hamilton, cutting her off, ¡°was it not a pirate vessel that aided you in the raid on the Nuestra?¡±


    Vhingfrith tensed. ¡°It was, my lord.¡±


    ¡°The Ladyman, wasn¡¯t it? John Laurier.¡±


    ¡°It was.¡±


    ¡°An old friend of yours,¡± said the governor.


    ¡°And a most overriding companion, from what I hear others tell,¡± Lady Katherine put in. ¡°A swaggering brute, who moves preternaturally well in women¡¯s clothes, as if he assumes their form and an appearance. Like a changeling! A fearless one with savage skills at swordplay, and a mean streak as deep as a trench.¡±


    Vhingfrith fought for composure. ¡°He is an old acquaintance. And he can be overriding at times, your ladyship.¡±


    ¡°And do you often coordinate with pirates?¡± asked Captain Gilmore. Vhingfrith sensed the man was angling to steal back some of his shine.


    Three sets of eyes were now on Vhingfrith, who took a sip of his wine to buy some time to think, then said, ¡°A rattlesnake is my enemy because it will bite me if I should go near it. Its venom is toxic to my body, its hatred of everything I stand for is antithetical to my survival. If we are hungry, though, do we not skewer that snake to eat it? And, should we find ourselves in a position to destroy even more dangerous enemies, and win even greater prizes for England, do we not owe it to ourselves to pick that hateful serpent up off the ground and fling it at our enemies, so that they may taste its venom?¡±


    Captain Gilmore arched an eyebrow.


    Lady Katherine smirked.


    The governor staggered back like he had been struck, and then began to clap so loudly that everyone in the ballroom turned to see what was the fuss. And surely they all wanted in on it, once Lord Hamilton slapped Vhingfrith across the back companionably, and guffawed like never before. ¡°Hear this man! I had heard you were a philosopher and wordsmith! I had heard, but no one prepared me for your gall! Captain Vhingfrith, I¡¯m afraid I must insist you speak to the Admiralty Board posthaste. Woodes Rogers has asked my permission to extend to you an invitation, and I must confess that until now I wasn¡¯t at all certain you would be the right fit. But now I see his instincts could not have been more correct.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­only too glad to have your approval, Governor. But, in fact, Rogers himself has already reached out to me¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, I had heard, but why have you not taken it upon yourself to pay visit? The poor man seems positively distraught!¡± Lord Hamilton laughed. ¡°Like a man who¡¯s lost his puppy!¡±


    Because I am terrified of what John Laurier will do if he believes me in league with Rogers, he thought, but did not dare say. ¡°I have only been waiting for the right time to clear up my schedule to meet with him.¡±


    ¡°You should expect another invitation very soon. Very soon, indeed. In the meantime, tell me all about it. And don¡¯t miss a single detail. I want to know how the Nuestra Se?ora de la Purificaci¨®n and her captain were defeated.¡±


    ____


    When the first guests began to depart, Dobbs could tell the party was winding down. Now he stood on the steps behind the Governor¡¯s Mansion, facing a long garden, which extended into an unkempt orchard. In those trees somewhere, men and women were grunting. It sounded like pigs rutting, and though the music from inside masked some of it, occasionally he heard gasping, laughing, the sounds of ecstasy.


    ¡°You¡¯ll want to marry, Dobbs,¡± said the Ladyman.


    Dobbs looked around. ¡°Sir?¡± He realized a moment later he¡¯d slipped up again and called the captain sir.


    Captain Laurier was seated cross-legged on a stone bench, all ladylike, his bauta still fastened to his face. A drunken officer had passed out on the floor in front of him. ¡°Someday, you¡¯ll want to marry. A nice, fine farm girl in the Colonies, I should think.¡±


    Dobbs shifted uncomfortably. He looked around to make sure no one could hear them. ¡°You¡¯re not married. Neither is Captain Vhingfrith, nor almost anyone on the Hazard.¡±


    ¡°But you will be different. I¡¯ll see to it. Never mind the game Anne played on you, you¡¯ll have a good woman. I¡¯ll make sure of it. That is why I¡¯m about to do what I¡¯m about to do.¡±


    Again, Dobbs looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. ¡°You mean the plan?¡± he whispered.


    ¡°I mean the plan.¡±


    He laughed. ¡°You¡¯re not doing it for me, s¡ªmum.¡±


    ¡°I am. But not just you, don¡¯t flatter yourself. Each man of the Hazard has a different destiny. I have foreseen it. Do you believe me?¡±


    Dobbs nodded. Looking at the Ladyman¡¯s mask, slightly glowing in moonlight, seeing the glossy, dreamy eyes set inside the narrow eye slits, he suddenly believed everything Laurier said was true. How could it not be? When had he ever faltered? ¡°Yes, I believe you.¡±


    ¡°Good. Because I can see things no one else can. Dangerous things. The firmament isn¡¯t through with us, and we shall use it. I decided it last night.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Dobbs suddenly felt his confidence wane, and was a little frightened. He was not afraid to return to the sea, but he wanted nothing to do with the firmament, no more than he wanted anything to do with krakens or sirens or Neptune¡¯s trident.


    ¡°If it returns¡­imagine if it stays, Mr. Dobbs. Such prolonged darkness. You hear all that secret grunting out there?¡± He pointed to the orchard. Just then, a man moaned in pleasure. ¡°That¡¯s what they do. That¡¯s what they all do. They pretend at godliness, at Christ-like behaviour, but when the sun sets and darkness falls, they fuck. They fuck their slaves, they fuck their best friend¡¯s husbands and wives, they fuck their dogs and their horses, they even fuck children. Like Mr. Isaacson tried to do to you.¡±


    Dobbs froze.


    The milk-white bauta turned to him.


    ¡°Oh, yes, Mr. Dobbs, I know all about that. But Isaacson doesn¡¯t know that I know. And he doesn¡¯t know that I have him under a pair of watchful eyes at all times. You have conducted yourself admirably, Dobbs, but you should¡¯ve come to me as soon as it happened.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m sorry, sir. Mum. Bloody hell. I didn¡¯t want you to think I was¡­weak.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not weak, Mr. Dobbs. Never weak. Not like these pompous asses here,¡± he gestured at the mansion and the garden and the orchard. ¡°They are not who they say they are. They lie because if their truths became known, the whole world would have to admit that they are no better than pirates. England would have to confess she is no less a whore than the bitch behind those bushes.¡± He chuckled, and since the mask could not change expressions, it was unutterably haunting. ¡°Think of it. The whole world going permanently dark. Only weeks ago, I feared it. But now that I¡¯ve had time to think on it¡­¡±


    The Ladyman sighed, and stood.


    ¡°We each have a destiny. Mine is to fuck every country out of its gold, even England. Anne¡¯s is to die fighting. Isaacson¡¯s is to die at your hands. And yours is to live happily somewhere away from all of this shit.¡±


    Dobbs swallowed. ¡°Isaacson¡­¡±


    ¡°You do it when you¡¯re ready, Mr. Dobbs. I will let you choose the time. Shouldn¡¯t be too hard, you already did it to Abner. And why not enjoy it this time? We all deserve a little vengeance now and again.¡± He looked around the orchard again. ¡°Let¡¯s go. I¡¯ve had my feel of hypocrisy for one night.¡±


    ____


    The Ladyman has a hundred reasons for why he does anything, Benjamin had heard it said. The first time he had heard it was from his father. After that, the saying floated through the air of drinking halls all over Port Royal. Now that he saw John Laurier walking out the front door, he had to wonder why he stayed at the party so long. If he had the keys already, why did he remain?


    In front of Vhingfrith, Governor Hamilton and a dozen others had gravitated closer, to listen to the story of the Nuestra¡¯s end. He managed to ignore the feeling he had inside that demanded he go and ask John what his other purpose had been, and the other feeling, which told him to follow the Ladyman to The Dashing Inn, pull him close, and tear the dress off.


    Insufferable man.


    Then, on the heels of that thought, You only wish you had his daring, Benjamin.


    The story reached its conclusion, the crowd applauded, and the night wore on. Men and women came in from the garden, some of their clothes looking a little ruffled. Vhingfrith and others all pretended not to notice.


    When he stepped back out into the night, Vhingfrith was torn for which way to go. From here, he could just see over the rooftops to the North Docks. He could pick out Lively¡¯s maintop from here. He looked east, thinking about The Dashing Inn, where John waited for him.


    Just then, a cascade of light passed overhead. When he looked up, Benjamin¡¯s brow furrowed in consternation at the long, blue, somewhat jagged streaks of light. There and gone. Looked to have gone from northeast to southwest, plummeting towards the sea.


    That¡¯s passing strange.


    Others saw it, too, and muttered about shooting stars.


    They would¡¯ve been straighter. No shooting star makes anything but a straight line. He pulled on his tricorne, thinking he would remark on the phenomenon in his journal tonight. He walked, hands in pockets, to the North Docks. To the Lively.


    Meanwhile, out at sea, something swam just beneath the surface. Something large. And it began moving east around the island, searching for a river leading deeper inland.

 Chapter 20: Do You Understand What Room Youre In Now?

    rafiki ¨C Swahili word for ¡°friend¡±.


    HAZARD WAS ALL ARRANGED to dock neatly under the derricks at the Turtle Crawles. All the work was being done at night, sneakily, with few torches, so that the militia would not see, and it was being paid for with the raw treasure taken from the Nuestra Se?ora de la Purificaci¨®n.


    Meanwhile, two different nightly activities took place in secret. Benjamin Vhingfrith spoke with Munt in a dark room at the back of The Golden Goose, going over the details needed to begin their venture together: the search for Olivier Levasseur¡¯s three hundred million pounds¡¯ worth of treasure. Munt had agreed he would reveal the identity of his female codebreaker, but only once they were out at sea. Vhingfrith¡¯s payment had cleared from the Admiralty Board, his share of his own profits could easily pay for the food and supplies to get this venture started. Looking at his charts, Munt pointed to a small island where his codebreaker felt their search for Levasseur¡¯s treasure ought to begin. The island was called Jasper Island, it was uninhabited, mostly consisting of rock, Munt had it on good authority that several French ships had been dodging English patrols in that area, as if looking for something.


    In terms of planning, they were all but set to leave. But they kept coming back to the same problem¡ªthey needed a bloody crew. Despite having real English coin and being friends with Woodes Rogers, no one wanted to sail with the Devil¡¯s Son.


    ¡°You could ask the Ladyman,¡± said Munt. ¡°I understand you two are close.¡±


    ¡°Captain Laurier has his own ambitions,¡± Vhingfrith said.


    ¡°But, oh, wouldn¡¯t he push those ambitions aside for a bounty as big as this?¡± Munt countered.


    Vhingfrith admitted the Ladyman might, but did he, Vhingfrith, want John along for this? It was going to be obscenely dangerous, no matter how it went. He would need to think on it.


    The other secret activity happening around Port Royal was the transfer of Peter Williamson III¡¯s ill-gotten twelve-pounder sakers onto the Hazard. To get it done, Captain Laurier used only seven trusted crewmen, Akil, and the other five Africans.


    ____


    Akil kaKhayi could count to high numbers. This had made him unpopular to the other boys in his tribe, and some of the girls thought him strange, enigmatic, and ultimately irresistible. Another reason for the boys to dislike him. But counting was a habit of his, one that almost ruined him, for he counted his steps, he counted the birds in the sky, he counted how many times his mother blinked, he counted everything for fear that if he did not, something terrible might happen. When he was a boy, Akil¡¯s mother had thought this adorable. As he grew older, though, she feared others were right about him: he was tainted by some evil spirit. Because Akil became obsessed with numbers, counting how many times he walked through doorways, and would walk backwards out of them, only to enter them again, because to him three was a blessed number and he must walk through a door three times for luck. People looked at him queerly whenever he entered, exited, and entered again.


    But the counting led to him being able to lump groups together, to count, at a glance, dozens of men in an enemy scouting party. He could tell how many pigeons were in a group just by a quick look. It became automatic, just lumping the six lizards and eight frogs he saw on his way to his wife¡¯s hut, or counting the number of breaths he took as he climbed the stairs (the stairs, which he also counted). To Akil, it was like multiple tallies were always running in his mind, lines scratched onto an imaginary board, or ticks on one of the abacuses the English explorers had brought over. Counting served no purpose to him, until he entered the ibutho lempi, the fighting units of his tribe, where counting enemy forces and their resources on scouting missions became invaluable.


    Akil was good at estimating distance, because he had always known his own stride, and counted how many strides it took to walk towards and away from something. It was a habitual thing, obsessively done. Akil had not learned to speak until he was almost six. He had not killed anyone until he was twenty, despite being in his father¡¯s war council for ten years. All these things made him stranger in the eyes of others.


    When he did speak, he spoke mostly to women. He spoke to them as though they were the wind, or one of the imaginary friends he had kept around, until his mother demanded he banish all those pretend creatures when he was fifteen. Songiya, his wife, had encouraged Akil to invite them all back, all his pretend friends who gave him counsel. But they were all gone now. Along with Songiya. Gone with the ship that took her east, while the ship that took Akil headed west. There had been nine ships in the sea that day. Akil counted them all, as well as all the letters in their names¡ªninety-seven. He also counted their masts and sails¡ªfour and six on each, for a total of twenty-eight and forty-two, respectively. It happened on the lunar month of uNtulikazi, on the second day. He had counted every day after that.


    Nine hundred and eighty-eight.


    Presently, Akil stood on the Hazard¡¯s rail, wondering if any of these ships could ever take him back home. He wondered if what Captain Laurier and his underling Okoa had said was true. Was there truly no place left in the¡ªwhat word had he used? Universe? Was there truly no place left in all the world and all the cosmos for Akil and his friends? He pondered that while he fought for balance along the rail.


    ¡°Careful with it, lads!¡± Laurier shouted, as he directed Akil and the rest of the Africans to the front of the ship, which he had learned was called the ¡°bow¡± in English. Akil walked barefoot across a wet deck. It had rained the night before and the deck was slippery. None of the Africans were yet permitted shoes. ¡°Akil! There now! Tell the other Negroes to guide it down!¡±


    Akil¡¯s skin was leaking gallons of water, his tunic plastered to his back, arms chafed by canvas and hands callused by rope burns. He raised his hands to touch the twelve-pounder cannon, which was floating over them, dangling by ropes looped around its ¡°pommelion¡± and ¡°muzzle¡±¡ªhe had been counting the letters of every English word he learned to read and speak. The cannon continued to float over until it landed on its new mount, which had been built by a man called LaCroix, a carpenter of some repute on the ship.


    Hazard, Akil thought. They call the ship Hazard. With six letters. A word that means danger. He had read those letters on the back of the ship¡ªthe stern.


    ¡°Okoa! Tell those men not to touch those stays to save their lives! Handsomely now, lads! Handsomely!¡±


    ¡°Captain says do not touch those,¡± Akil interpreted. And he saw Okoa squint in surprise. The one-legged African had been promoted, it seemed, to the same position that the man Akil had thrown overboard had occupied. Okoa seemed bewildered that Akil had understood the captain¡¯s order without needing translation. Akil only grimaced, and went quiet. Let him wonder how much else I know. Like how the captain plans to sell us to some man named Smith. Akil had already warned the others, and while they were scared, none of them were as outraged as he was. They were sheep. Akil was a war chieftain.


    The captain promised us freedom on Hazard. Now he¡¯s going back on his word. Only an animal does that. Where he was from, one could not be called a man if he did not keep his word.


    Akil tried to hide his seething as he helped the rest of the crew to lower the cannon into its housing. The wood planks groaned, and the whole ship seemed to sink into the water a few inches upon receiving this new gift. Akil marveled, How much must it weigh? LaCroix, who was from someplace called France and was treated like some sort of wizard or genius, moved quickly to slide a large metal pin into place to secure the cannon, then began fussing around it, securing the rest of its housing.


    ¡°Excellent, LaCroix!¡± Laurier shouted, smiling as he stood on a rail and looked down on the work. ¡°Excellent! Now, lads, that¡¯s that one done. Let¡¯s get ready to receive the other cannon at stern.¡±


    The same process happened at the rear of the ship with a second identical cannon, and again, Hazard felt like it sank a bit deeper into the water, the weight of the cannon was just that great. She. They call their ships she. Like the ships themselves have feminine souls. Akil moved lithely with the other five Africans, and he interpreted the captain¡¯s orders as they secured the second cannon.


    Later that night, when it was all done, Akil leaned on the starboard railing, sweating, drinking water from a brass mug. He was approached by Bogoa, the shortest of the slaves he had been shackled with on the Nuestra. They had both come from different English colonies, one on of the islands way, way out there. He did not know the island¡¯s name, hoped never to return.


    They were both on the main deck. Neither of them were in chains, which surprised Akil, because if the Ladyman knew Akil spoke some English, then he must know Akil understood the plan to sell them all to some white plantation owner. The captain is very strange, he thought. And very devious. Is he waiting for us all to leave, so he can shoot us? Does he want us to run? For what purpose? What good are we to this Smith man if we are dead?


    From belowdecks, there came laughter, and the sound of a fiddle. Captain Laurier and his few remaining loyal men, celebrating their two new cannons. What they meant to do with them, Akil could only guess. But he did not plan on staying to find out. He meant to die tonight.


    ¡°Akil?¡± said Bogoa softly.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not eating. The captain is feeding us same as the crew.¡±


    ¡°But we are not crew,¡± Akil snapped. He turned his back on Bogoa and stared out at the rippling, star-spackled sea. ¡°You can eat his food if you want to. I won¡¯t stop you.¡±


    ¡°But he¡¯s told us we are crew,¡± said Bogoa. ¡°Do you doubt him?¡±


    ¡°I doubt everyone.¡±


    ¡°Even me?¡±


    Akil said nothing.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Akil, you can say it. It¡¯s because you fought back. You went on hunger strike with the Spaniards. The rest of us¡ªwe could not last. You are stronger than the rest of us. You want to fight. We want to live.¡±


    ¡°What good is a life lived in slavery, Bogoa?¡±


    ¡°You heard the captain. There is nowhere for us. Nowhere but here.¡±


    ¡°And you believed him?¡±


    Bogoa sighed, and bowed his head. ¡°The rest of us¡­we¡¯ve been gone longer than you, rafiki. We¡¯ve been traded and sold many times. But you only came to this sea three years ago, so you still remember home. We cannot. Half our words are Spanish and English words, muddled together. We¡¯ve forgotten much of our own language. You have someplace to go to if you escape this place. We do not even remember which villages we are from.¡±


    ¡°I killed a man for the captain,¡± he said. ¡°I did it so that I might earn his respect, and become one of the crew, like he said. But now he talks about giving us to this Smith person.¡± Akil shook his head ruefully. ¡°I killed for nothing, Bogoa. And that cursed night¡ªthat long night when we all went without sun. It was the land of the dead, Bogoa, and we were meant to stay there.¡±


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Bogoa winced like he was in pain for his friend. ¡°You cannot know that, rafiki.¡±


    ¡°I know it was not this Hell the English speak of. A place of eternal torment? Who ever heard such a ridiculous thing?¡± He snorted. ¡°It was the land of spirits, Bogoa. Even that man-woman, Anne Bonny, says she saw the spirit of the man I killed¡ªAbner. He stood on this very deck, she said.¡±


    ¡°Maybe she was mistaken.¡±


    Akil put one foot on the railing and gripped a piece of netting. ¡°I¡¯m going to jump into the water, Bogoa. Tonight.¡±


    Bogoa went silent for a time. Then he said, ¡°Can you swim?¡±


    Akil laughed good-heartedly. ¡°No, you fool, I mean to go back there.¡±


    After a moment, a hand touched his shoulder. ¡°I hope you find her there. Her name¡­you said it was Songiya, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And didn¡¯t you say you saw her jump from the back of the ship that took her?¡±


    ¡°As the ship sailed away, I saw three people jump into the sea. One of them looked like her. I¡¯m sure it was.¡±


    Bogoa squeezed his shoulder. ¡°I pray you find her, rafiki. I will tell the others. We will all pray for your journey to her tonight.¡± The hand came away, and Akil heard Bogoa¡¯s footsteps retreating.


    Akil thought about the ship that took Songiya away. He could not recall the ship¡¯s name, for he hadn¡¯t known English very well back then, but he knew the number of letters she had: seven. He closed his eyes and thought of her jumping into the water. He put his other foot on the rail, and stood up, using the rope for balance. He envisioned her there, smiling at him. He was sure it was not only her memory, but her spirit. Then he opened his eyes and looked down into the black water¡ª


    Only it wasn¡¯t black, and for a moment Akil¡¯s heart was gripped by the fist of fear. A red light passed underneath the ship. Faint. But not so faint that he did not see the strange shapes dancing below the tiny waves. One of them was a dark human silhouette, he was sure, but with strange, undulating fans starting at its waist. It swam fast, yet created no disturbance of the surface water.


    Five. Five large fanning appendages¡­


    And then the red light faded and he could no longer see the dark shape. Now there was only black water, occasionally catching a glint of silver moonlight. Akil¡¯s heart provided only one possible answer¡ªan orisha. They were sent by Olodumare to assist humanity and show them the path to their ancestors. Or had it been¡ª


    ¡°Captain wants to see you,¡± said Okoa. Akil had heard him approach, had counted the number of his steps, as well as the number of thumps his crutch made against the deck. It was strange, because both Okoa¡¯s African and English were broken, and his words were a hodgepodge of accents.


    Is that what we will all become? Akil wondered as he searched the water for the spirit, hoping it had in fact been an orisha, telling him that jumping into the water was the right answer. Will all our people forget our language, and become their servants? I am Akil kaKhayi, prince of the Hadza tribe, and with Olodumare as my witness, my children will not serve the white men.


    ¡°The captain says to come.¡±


    ¡°Tell him no,¡± said Akil.


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Why no?¡±


    ¡°Because there is no freedom here. The captain¡¯s words are lies. That is the only freedom now,¡± Akil said, pointing to the water.


    And then the night erupted with great, booming laughter. Akil turned in anger, and saw Okoa nearly falling over. He grabbed his belly with one hand, he was laughing so hard, and then had to reach out to the rail for balance. Through his laughter, Okoa said, ¡°You think that is freedom?! Ha-ha-ha! You simple fool! That is cowardice! That is where fools go who have given up, and given in! Let me guess, you think me weak because I serve the captain?! Ha-ha-ha-haaaa! Do you know what freedom is out here for us? Have you not heard of Black Caesar? He has his own island, his own wives, his own servants! A black man! A man who once sailed with Blackbeard! Have you not heard? Are you not aware of what greatness awaits our people here? Ha-ha-haaaaaaaaa!¡±


    A moment ago, Akil had been ready to kill himself no matter what anyone else said. But he suddenly felt the need to silence Okoa, and so launched himself at the cripple and squeezed his neck. Instead, he grabbed the cripple¡¯s collar, hauled him over to the railing, and held him over the water. ¡°You should be ashamed! You helped bring us here!¡±


    Okoa smiled up at him, speaking through gasps. ¡°I liberated you! The Ladyman was right, there is nowhere left for us! Not unless you fight back, you idiot! I thought you were a war chieftain to your people! Well, if you want to fight¡­here is the battleground! Here is where it begins! Just ask Caesar! Ask Caesar! Ask Captain Vhingfrith!¡± Okoa glared madly at him, still smiling, still gasping, as defiant as a demon. ¡°If you want freedom¡ªtrue, unambiguous freedom¡ªthen you start by stalking the enemy from within!¡±


    ¡°Is that what you¡¯re doing? Just acting as some spy?¡±


    ¡°Not a spy. An occupant. A man staking a claim. One day,¡± Okoa swore, ¡°all this will be ours, too! Don¡¯t you see, you fool? One day, the world will also belong to us! But if we run from this, if we all just jump into the water with you and your sorrows¡­then who will be left to fight for our children? Our families?¡± Slowly, Okoa reached up to grip Akil¡¯s hand, and with uncommon strength, he peeled it away. ¡°Everyone wars, Akil. Our own people, do they not war with each other? They must, or else you could not be a war chieftain! In all the war stories your father ever told you, how many of them were won quickly?¡±


    Akil said nothing.


    Okoa nodded gravely. ¡°Exactly. Now it begins to sink in to that thick skull.¡± He pushed himself away from Akil, hopped over to recover his crutch, and started back down below. ¡°The captain wants to see you. Come, brother, and listen to what part you may play in this war. Or don¡¯t. Jump into the water and let your bloodline die with you.¡± The cripple limped belowdecks.


    Akil stood there, the vision he had seen in the water nearly forgotten. Okoa¡¯s words played tricks on his mind and heart. He felt tugged both ways, into the water and away from it. He looked over the rail, down at the rippling black water. Suddenly he mistrusted it. He mistrusted everything and everyone. He even mistrusted his own thoughts.


    ¡°Freedom.¡± Akil made the word sound like a jewel there was no obtaining. He tasted the word, both in his tongue and in the tongue of the English.


    Then he went below (twenty-seven strides) and was led into a part of the ship called the ¡°ward-room,¡± and there, huddled around a small table, their faces lit by three candles, was John Laurier, resplendent in a fiery red-and-yellow dress, his helmsman Kepler, Okoa, LaCroix the Frenchman lounging in a hammock, the boy Dobbs peering over charts, that weird man-woman Anne Bonny sharpening a knife, Roche the bloodthirsty Brazilian, and three others he did not yet know the names of.


    ¡°Ah, Akil, so good of you to make it,¡± said the Ladyman, brightening at his entrance. ¡°Come on in, my friend, and grab a pistol.¡±


    Akil blinked. That¡¯s when he realized there were exactly twelve pistols on the table and seven muskets. Next to them were nine cutlasses, and a few small, mysterious black pouches. ¡°Captain?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to the Smith plantation. We¡¯re going to kill Raymond Smith and everyone else than runs the sugarcane fields, and take all his slaves for crew. In order to convince the slaves to come with us, we will need more than just Okoa. Some of them are recent captures, just like you. I¡¯ll need you to be my advocate to them, and tell them that this ship is a haven for them. Once we¡¯ve killed all the masters and taken the slaves aboard Hazard, we will set sail for Porto Bello, some one thousand six hundred miles from here, and there we will lay siege to a secret Spanish fort and take the largest treasure in all the Caribbean.¡±


    Akil searched for the trap, but none came.


    ¡°Now, Mr. Okoa has explained to me this may interest you. And, as you are an experienced war chieftain, I should very much like your expertise in planning the shore party for the night-time invasion. I have maps here to show you, if it will help you decide upon a method of approach. Are you ready to begin? Have you eaten yet? If not, I can wait until your belly is full. Better to think on a full stomach.¡±


    Akil stared at him, astonished. Then at Okoa. Okoa was not quite suppressing a smile.


    ¡°But if you and your men are not interested in joining us,¡± the Ladyman continued, ¡°your share of the Neustra¡¯s treasure is waiting for you on the docks, as promised, for all your help during that fourteen-day darkness we all endured. If you wish to leave, you may have it, and be on your way. But I wish you would consider my offer. At least give it a turn of the glass. What do you say?¡±


    The ship rocked easily in the water. LaCroix swayed in the hammock¡ªthe captain¡¯s hammock, most likely¡ªand he lifted a quizzical brow at Akil. Akil stepped up to the table and looked at the captain. ¡°Captain¡­is not selling us?¡± he asked in strained English.


    ¡°No. I am not selling you. The way I understand it, you were first slaves to the English, then the Spanish, but as we took you from the Spanish, you belong to no one in Port Royal. Not even me.¡±


    ¡°Other captain¡­he give slaves to prison.¡±


    At this, Laurier looked uncomfortable. ¡°Captain Vhingfrith has¡­obligations to the Admiralty Court. Eh, Okoa, can you translate? You see, Akil, Vhingfrith is something called a privateer, a different kind of captain than me. He has legal responsibilities. That is, he receives something called a letter of marque for specific Spanish ships to harass, sink, or take a prize. English Law gives him this sanctioned right. But there are more people in Port Royal and in the Caribbean than there are letters of marque, and so, many captains just go attack the Spanish outright, and take what we want. Privateers, therefore, owe some of their prizes back to England. But those of us in this room¡­we are not privateers. Are we, lads?¡±


    Laughter from everyone in the room. ¡°Yo-ho, Cap¡¯n,¡± Bonny called out. ¡°Yo-ho,¡± said Dobbs. They all chimed in.


    ¡°We are pirates. We take down Spanish ships, true, but we do so without legal authority. Typically this means England overlooks our hooliganry because, well, as long as the Spaniards are hurt, England doesn¡¯t care. Usually. But sometimes England gets upset with us because we do not give them a cut of our treasure. So they both love us, need us, and hate us. Understand so far?¡±


    Akil listened to Okoa¡¯s translation, and nodded. ¡°Understand, Captain. Other captain had to pay slaves back to England.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right exactly, Akil.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­why did you not say plan before?¡±


    ¡°Because I wanted to see what sort of man you are. If you would run or try to kill me. The other Africans are going along with us because that is all they know. They serve whomever they end up with. Plus, they¡¯ve seen how they would be treated in Port Royal otherwise. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen that, as well.¡±


    Akil nodded. ¡°Yes. I see.¡±


    Captain Laurier walked around the table, and spoke in low tones. Okoa kept translating. ¡°Okoa told me you were on the deck just now, gazing into the water. He says you were thinking of taking a dip. My friend, you can do that if you want, and no man in here could fault you. We¡¯ve all considered it. I myself considered it once, though I tried it with a pistol. The first time I was intimate with someone I love, I was afraid. Because I knew there was nowhere on Earth for someone like me. The priests good as told me. So I figured ¡®If I¡¯m going to Hell anyway¡­¡¯¡±


    Laurier shrugged.


    ¡°Yo-ho, Akil.¡±


    Akil was still uncertain. He looked at all their grinning faces and wondered, Are these evil spirits, sent to test me, or are these messengers of Eshu? His mother had told him that Eshu, the god of fate, sometimes sent weird strangers to guide one along the path towards destiny.


    ¡°Understand, Akil, that you are in a room full of men¡ªand one woman¡ªwho are also malcontents and deviants. People without safe harbour. Kepler over there left England to flee the press-gangs¡ªeh, officially they are called impress agents, and they force you to sign up for naval service. Against your will. These press-gangs, they roam around England, and no seventeen-year-old boy is safe, for the press-gangs can force them onto ships of five or six hundred other unlucky boys, where they are badly fed and sometimes twenty will die in a day, just waiting to hear which ship they¡¯ll be on. Some jump ship and try to swim away from their Guard-ships. Their bodies sometimes float in the rivers. Boys. I¡¯ve seen it myself. I was one of those boys the press-gangs preyed upon. England is no angel. Do you understand, Akil?¡±


    Akil looked over at Kepler, who looked grimly back. ¡°I understand, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Anne over there, she killed a man who slipped a finger where he should not have. Dobbs is meant to pay for the crime of his father, if you can believe that nonsense. And Roche¡ªRoche is a killer, tell true, but his mind is a child¡¯s, and the cruelty of his position put paid to any future he could have had as a common citizen. Do you understand what room you¡¯re in now, Akil? We all find ourselves flotsam in a chaotic stream, betrayed by men who insist that there be outsiders like us who are bound by the law but not protected by it, while they are protected by the law but not bound by it. Do you understand what room you¡¯re in now?¡±


    Akil looked around at the assembly of hard, determined faces. ¡°I understand what room I am in, Captain.¡±


    ¡°And will you leave with your treasure, come with us, or take a dive into the water?¡±


    Akil looked back at Okoa, who was now giving him a plaintive look. ¡°I come with Captain Ladyman.¡±


    Laurier clapped Akil¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Welcome to the life of a pirate. No greater danger, no greater freedom. Yo-ho.¡±


    ____


    The Hazard slid smoothly from the Turtle Crawles. It did so with four groups of men in long boats, ropes tied to the gunnels, and the men put their oars to work. They rowed hard, silently removing the Hazard from the sleepy little port under cover of night. Surely some saw it going, but none of them were militia. Militiamen rarely came this far into the Turtle Crawles, all the treasure was to be had on the Northern Docks. In the Crawles, there were only pirates, and they outnumbered all law enforcement.


    The ship dipped easily away, perhaps listing a bit strongly to port, but the Ladyman thought they could adjust for that later by moving some of the cargo around below.


    Out at sea, say about two miles out, something dipped its head out of the water. And it watched them round the island.

 Chapter 21: The Trap

    briny deep ¨C The ocean.


    IT WAS ON the mid-afternoon on the 6<sup>th</sup> of September that Vhingfrith, while sitting in the ward-room of the Lively and poring over the charts and rutters he had taken from the Nuestra, was paid visit by a messenger. The young man came in full blue coat and tall boots, looking half ready to sail, except for his hands, which were clean of all dirt and callouses. The son of someone important, given a role of far higher station than any pauper¡¯s son could climb, no matter how hard he tried. The boy handed over a small slip of parchment, which Vhingfrith unfolded forthwith. He knew who it was from before he even read it, and handed it back. ¡°Tell Woodes Rogers I will see him and the Admiralty at the appointed time. Tell him also I would be delighted to meet him for dinner afterward, to discuss another matter, if he is open.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The boy spun smartly and walked away.


    Vhingfrith had been thinking on Munt¡¯s words, and their plans. He felt certain they required more resources before they left port to hunt Levasseur¡¯s treasure, such as extra coin and salted meats to use for purchasing information as they roamed island to island. And while he did not believe John was the right partner, perhaps Woodes Rogers would be.


    I only hope John doesn¡¯t hate me forever for offering Rogers a partnership in this. But will Rogers even accept? He is well established here, and Levasseur¡¯s treasure is possibly a wild goose chase, no matter what Munt says.


    Truly, Vhingfrith was going along because Munt was funding him, and because the rumour mill said Woodes Rogers had more information about the whereabouts of the Santo Domingo and the Coronado. Having the two of them joined with me in enterprise would kill many birds with one stone. I¡¯m sorry, John, but I have licked enough boots and finally kissed the right arses, and I have to make the smart play here.


    The messenger boy had left the ship, and no one else was aboard the Lively. Alone once more, Vhingfrith stood by his desk, looming over the charts, checking them against the information in the Nuestra¡¯s rutters. With a parallel rule and divider, he tracked the latitudinal trajectory of both the Santo Domingo de Guzman and the Le¨®n Coronado. The captain of the Nuestra had been a man named Castillo, and his private log recorded the last rendezvous with both ships, and even the wind speed and direction that day. Vhingfrith calculated. Compared his results with his own logs, and known ocean currents of the Bocas del Drag¨®n. There were cays there where a ship could easily careen, and port towns where it could resupply. Captain Castillo¡¯s log suggested Le¨®n Coronado¡¯s crew had been short on supply, asking to borrow some of Nuestra¡¯s.


    Rogers¡¯s spies may have intelligence that can help me narrow it down. I am very close now, Father, I can feel it. Very close to retribution.


    Vhingfrith had to control his emotions, though, and not let them cloud his judgment. He needed to do more calculations, these dealing with his gut. Running his finger across the Bocas del Drag¨®n, he took out a magnifying glass, and, looking at the tiny, almost microscopic etchings that the cartographer had scrawled onto the map, he traced parallels. He noted on the map where known English patrol ships were typically skulking about. He used pen and ink to create a perimeter. They¡¯ll want to keep away from English patrols. That narrows it down to a few choices. Instincts met with hard calculations, forming an educated guess.


    His finger touched a wide patch of ocean. Hundreds of miles wide. Several islands with large coves, inside which a ship could hide. A ship may even move into a cove, surrounded by hills, reel in all sails, and fill the bilge to sink her in the water. This would make the ship dip below the hills. Some captains pulled this trick. When they were ready to sail again, they merely worked the pumps to get all the water out of the bilge, then set sail when they thought the seas were clear. They could do this again and again. A child¡¯s game of hide-and-seek on the ocean.


    Vhingfrith clasped his hands behind his back and sighed. If Captain Hollinger was telling the truth, then Woodes Rogers would have more information on Morales¡¯s ship. I¡¯ve been avoiding Rogers too long, out of love for John Laurier. That is unacceptable now. Perhaps he has word from the Intelligence Office. Yes, perhaps they know what Morales¡¯s orders are, which would help me be able to guess at her current mission and location.


    Time slipped by. The sun¡¯s light crept along the floor, draped his desk, and moved on to his far wall. In his mind¡¯s eye, he saw the Santo Domingo moving swiftly through a fog-draped Caribbean sea. For a moment, the Ladyman trespassed on his thoughts. Benjamin was already afraid to tell John that he would have to leave soon. And he was getting tired of dodging Munt¡¯s questions about why they couldn¡¯t just ask the Ladyman to join their venture.


    Eventually he snapped out of his trance and checked his timepiece, and realized he had to leave now if he didn¡¯t want to be late to meet with the Admiralty.


    Vhingfrith dawned his red coat and tricorne, checked himself once in the mirror, and headed out. As he crossed the deck, he looked across the way at all the busy-ness of the docks. Across the quay, he saw thirteen ships, all moored. Men shouted as whips from yardarms hoisted their cargo on and off their ships. Behind a webwork of snags and knots and ropes, there was the Turtle Crawles, a smaller, less reputable beach where fishing boats and sometimes pirate ships were allowed in for dock or repair, the latter under cover of night.


    The Hazard had been pulled in there, he knew, but Vhingfrith was surprised to now find her gone. Curious. Feeling a pang of worry, he walked quickly down the pier, asking people if they had seen where the Hazard had gone. One man said, ¡°She wasn¡¯t headed out to sea, because she didn¡¯t have all her sheets a-flyin¡¯¡ªeven though it was nighttime, I could see that much. Plus she headed that way,¡± he pointed east. ¡°Round the Hook. Didn¡¯t seem in a hurry. Also, she seemed undermanned to me. Not more¡¯n a dozen men were working her decks, looked to me.¡±


    ¡°Bloody strange,¡± muttered another dockworker that happened by. ¡°They slipped away in the night. Jes bloody strange.¡±


    Vhingfrith said nothing. It was more than just strange, it was worrisome. Oh, John, what the fuck are you doing?


    Checking the time again, he spun on his heels and jogged to the beach, where a horse awaited him. Vhingfrith had purchased it days ago, since Munt had him running all over Royal looking for assets to help them on their journey. As he turned away from the docks, he just barely missed the excitement at the far end of the pier. Two men had been working a cunt-splice between two damaged ropes, when one of the men appeared to slip and fall into the water. His friend was still on the pier, still laughing down at him, not in any hurry to help, for the lad knew how to swim. But then, someone shouted, ¡°Leviathan!¡± Just then a dark shadow swam underneath him, and the lad was pulled under quickly. His friend screamed for help, and jumped in after him. Neither ever came back up, despite a tumult of men searching.


    Vhingfrith never heard or saw of this.


    ____


    Jamaica was about one hundred forty-six miles long, and about fifty-one miles wide, give or take. The Hazard had traveled halfway around the island at night, then coasted out to sea before sunrise, and rested at bare poles, so that they were hiding below the horizon, should anyone happen to look out at the horizon throughout the day.


    John¡¯s plan was to let the rumour of Hazard¡¯s disappearance spread all over the island. Or, better yet, make it so that no one on the island had any reason to talk about the pirate ship at all. Let all talk of the Ladyman quiet down. Let no man or woman have reason to believe the Ladyman might pay them a visit, or call in a favour, or have need to return anytime soon.


    This part of the plan was his. He and the lads waited at sea, preparing. Dobbs was up in the crow¡¯s nest, his one eye cast about for any ships that might spot them while coming towards Jamaica.


    John climbed up the masthead, then hooked an arm through the shrouds and came to rest in the crosstrees. The masthead was almost eight-two feet above the water, giving him a horizon of about ten miles all around. He sat there in the crosstrees, quietly, along with Dobbs, while the rest of their confederates stood below, awaiting orders.


    By the time darkness returned, the seas were once more in their favour.


    There still wasn¡¯t much talk. Laurier climbed down from the masthead and called up LaCroix, and together he and the Frenchman went over every inch of their two new cannons. Again. Particularly the bore of each cannon, and the mid-catch, the cast-iron reinforce that housed the ignition chamber. Twelve-pounders like these were sometimes known to hide residue of gunpowder remains after only a few shots. That could prove disastrous (and which, for their purposes, might ultimately prove useful). The explosive cocktail of sulfur, charcoal, and sodium nitrate was what was used to propel cannon shot down the bore, but if there were any impurities, if the ratio of carbon to iron was not closely maintained, the cannon could cease to be cannon, and instead become a bomb. If a cannon exploded, any man close to it would be dead before they knew anything had gone wrong. The blast wave would travel across the deck, severing limbs, hewing men in half, and the heat of it could liquefy eyeballs. Organs would rupture. Then, the deck would catch fire.


    Everything about a cannon had to be maintained. Even a pirate crew had to be fastidious with such devices, and everyone understood there could be no slacking.


    ¡°Why are you so worried, Capitaine?¡± asked LaCroix. ¡°You won¡¯t need the cannons for this mission.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Laurier said. ¡°But I want no surprises.¡±


    ¡°May I ask, what are these cannons actually for? That is, I know the overall scheme, but what part do these cannons play in particular?¡±


    ¡°No, you may not ask. And you will not know until you must.¡± He could not trust anyone with the extra knowledge lest they get themselves captured and be forced by torturer¡¯s touch to confess all that they knew. ¡°Now get back below and work on those other grenadoes.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Capitaine.¡± With a flourish, the Frenchman bowed like he might do to nobility, and then sashayed belowdecks.


    Hours passed. The sun was fully set. The men and Anne Bonny were waiting for the command. At last, Laurier said it. ¡°Away loft.¡± Calls repeated the order, and every man moved to position. ¡°Trice up and lay out. Anne, see that they do it handsomely.¡±


    ¡°Aye aye, Captain! Come along, you scallywags!¡± she thundered, just as they were weighing anchor.


    The men ran up the ratlines and some that had been up high swung to their positions. Privateers don¡¯t move like that, John thought proudly. Only pirates risk themselves like that. They repeated the orders to one another, then threw off the gaskets, those lines that kept the sails tightly furled. ¡°Let fall!¡± he barked.


    The sails dropped and Hazard puffed up her chest as the wind filled her lungs.


    ¡°Sheet home!¡± a man cried.


    Anne called back, ¡°Look alive there in the t¡¯gallant! Hands to the braces!¡±


    ¡°Handsomely there, Tomlinson!¡± Laurier said as he jogged past the capstan. ¡°Don¡¯t let those men fool you, they aren¡¯t made of porcelain and they won¡¯t break, I promise you! Drive them hard!¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    ¡°Kepler,¡± John said, bounding up the steps to the helmsman, who was throwing all his weight into spinning the wheel. ¡°I want this bitch¡¯s cut-water moving into Hope Bay within the air. Quietly. And have a care of the lee-latch.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    ¡°Akil!¡± he called out.


    The war chieftain was just emerging from the forecastle. He and his men were still barefoot, shirts off, their black-as-night flesh making it so that the whites of their eyes made them out like phantoms. Each African wore crisscrossing muskets across their backs, held on by straps, and pistols tucked in their waists. Akil came stomping up the stairs, and John had never felt more like he was facing some tiger that might just choose to eat him rather than go along with him. ¡°Captain call me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Prepare your men with the boats. Once we¡¯re ashore, it is your party. Even I will follow your lead. If you hold your hand up like this, that will tell us when to stand still and go quiet. If you wave your arm like this, that means it¡¯s clear to move again. Understood?¡±


    Okoa was there to help translate. Akil said, ¡°Yes, Captain.¡±


    ¡°No shooting at all, not on the way to the plantation. But once we¡¯re at the plantation¡ªand you will know it by its big wooden fencing and the red-roofed house at the far end of the property¡ªyou can shoot whomever you like, as long as they are white, not a child, or aiming a weapon at you. Some of the slaves may be loyal to Smith. Should any slave attack with only his bare hands, try your best to subdue him and convince him that freedom is best. If he continues to fight, I suggest you do what you must to permanently subdue him. Understood?¡±


    Akil nodded once. Slowly.


    Laurier was not sure he had the man¡¯s complete loyalty. But he rarely ever got such loyalty. These were pirates, and they only remained pirates so long as their own particular needs were met. Bound together by their own misfortunes, this was all the family or wealth most of them would ever know. But would Akil realize that soon enough, or would he forever live with infernal hope?


    ¡°Captain,¡± said Kepler. ¡°Have you heard the men talking?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± Laurier was stirred from his reveries. ¡°Sorry, what are you saying, Kepler?¡±


    ¡°The men are talking. Some of them¡­they say they¡¯ve been seeing things out in the water. Lights, way underneath the surface. Way down deep, they say. Tomlinson said he spied a large fish last night under moonlight, only it didn¡¯t have a fish¡¯s head. Said it looked more like a crab with fins.¡± The wind blew through Kepler¡¯s jacket and he hugged it close. ¡°I keep wondering, every time the sun goes down, is this our last sunset? Will there come a time when it won¡¯t ever return?¡±


    Laurier did not like this talk. He knew something had changed in the world, but he did not wish to speak on it overlong with anybody but Benjamin. With Benjamin he could be honest about his feelings, but to anyone else he had to project an outward sphere of authority and control. Still¡­


    ¡°We cannot control the heavens, Kepler. We can scarcely control our own destinies. And as for what Tomlinson saw, there are many unknown things lying out here in the briny deep, some the naturalists have only begun to speculate on. So who knows anything for sure?¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain.¡±


    Laurier nodded towards the wheel. ¡°Mind your steering there, Kepler. Touch the wind and keep her to.¡±


    Kepler spit, and turned the wheel. ¡°Aye, Captain.¡±


    Hazard swayed as she turned, and headed for Hope Bay. John put a foot on the port rail, his black dress fluttering in a ghostly breeze as he watched Jamaica grow larger. Behind him, about two miles out, a large tentacle rose from the sea, and splashed back into the dark water. An unknowable and curious mind watched the strange little wooden ship sail on, and wondered if it should follow.


    ____


    The Admiralty Office was located in the remains of a castle, which was started by a Spanish lord as a place where his wife could stay and feel comfort in a pleasant patina of home, but the poor woman had died not long after arriving in Royal, and before it could be finished. To modern eyes, the area surrounding the castle looked like nothing more than a series of collapsed fortress walls and tackle stalls. The cattle market¡¯s fences that now encompassed the place was more of a suggestion than established boundary. The reek of cow shit and spilled pig¡¯s blood mingled into a unique, gag-inducing cocktail, if you weren¡¯t used to it. Or sometimes even if you were.


    Vhingfrith parked his horse at a stable and paid a boy a shilling to make sure it found shade and water. The boy had not had his ears or nose hacked off yet, so Vhingfrith imagined he was at least not a thief. Throngs of farmers huddled in close near the auction booths, their combined stench almost as rancid as that of the cattle. Everyone gave him dubious looks. Here was a Negro, or what appeared to be one, wearing much better clothes than they, and with obviously greater care for hygiene. Some parted for him, others just stopped and stared, and still others attempted to block his path. Vhingfrith paid them no mind, and carried on up the wooden steps, through the awning that still bore the name Iris, for whom the castle was meant to be dedicated.


    Scribes were just inside, dealing with their own throngs of pesky customers. Men and women who could neither read nor write required the services of men of letters, to send messages to either family or business associates back home, or around the Caribbean. This small little area was perhaps the nucleus of all the Caribbean, where powerful men and women sent letters and payment, offered jobs to others abroad, and communicated with noblemen and noblewomen back home. Orders were placed here for resupply, for guards, requests for more militia and workers, and updates for investors across the sea. Officers of the Admiralty frequently stepped out of the Office to dictate a letter and expedite it to the West Indies and London, and even France and Spain.


    Every truly important piece of parchment passed through here. The rest of the Admiralty Office was closed after dark, but this hall of scribes remained open till almost midnight. Nothing was more important in the Caribbean than communication with the greater world.


    ¡°Is he in?¡± Vhingfrith asked a woman, who he knew had been a companion to of Rogers ever since he came to Port Royal.


    Her name was Sally, and she was easily noticeable because of the white skirt and embroidered collar that stuck out in this place like a rose in a pig wallow. Sally was just moving through the hall with two women attendants, and she was reciting her shopping list to them. She pushed back a lock of black hair and said, ¡°Captain Vhingfrith. Captain Rogers was hoping you had not forgotten him.¡±


    ¡°I must owe him my apologies. I¡¯ve been monstrously busy. I hope he forgives me.¡±


    ¡°You know he has never doubted you, Captain. I am sure he is only concerned about your well-being. He is just up in his study.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Vhingfrith went up a short flight of stairs, passing a huge clock in a corridor which was clearly a new and lavish addition, as were the silk curtains and red Oriental carpet. All bespoke a change in Port Royal. No longer did the Crown wish to hear it called ¡°Pirate¡¯s Cove¡± or ¡°the Wickedest City on Earth¡± or ¡°the Modern-Day Sodom and Gomorrah.¡± Vhingfrith had noticed this change a year ago when he left this place to begin his search for the Santo Domingo de Guzman, and was astonished to see the transformation continuing. He had thought surely the transition would fail, as had all other previous attempts to modernize Port Royal. But just look at it all now.


    The wooden door groaned on heavy iron hinges, and Vhingfrith doffed his hat upon entry, and smiled when he saw the man sitting at his desk by the window. It was a bit of a forced smile, for Vhingfrith had never known how far his relationship with this man went.


    ¡°Ah, Benjamin!¡± said Woodes Rogers, returning his quill to its bottle and rising to meet him. ¡°Capital! Capital job out there! Think of the celebrity! The Nuestra finally destroyed, and you returned to us, a hero with a harrowing tale.¡± He seemed to wince when he looked into Benjamin¡¯s cat¡¯s-eye.


    The moment passed. They shook hands, and Rogers clapped Vhingfrith on the shoulder companionably.


    Benjamin smiled in return. ¡°We had Lady Luck on our side.¡±


    ¡°And the Ladyman, eh?¡± Rogers tossed his head back and laughed. ¡°And where has Laurier scarpered off to? Yes, I heard of the coordinated effort. Most impressive. More your plan than his, I am sure.¡±


    ¡°Actually,¡± Vhingfrith said, closing the door behind him. ¡°It was Captain Laurier¡¯s plan, from beginning to end.¡±


    Rogers seemed surprised by that. ¡°I see. And was it also he that thought not to bring back the Nuestra¡¯s captain? You left him there, wounded, did you not?¡±


    Straight to business. All right, then. ¡°That was my first mate¡¯s idea. He didn¡¯t want any further complications, such as having the captain rouse the other prisoners we took with us, such as the slaves, and raise enough of a row to inspire mutiny. Not after what happened on the Corella.¡± That was a ship where precisely such a thing had happened, not three years prior. The Corella¡¯s captain had taken a Spanish nao a prize, and taken the captain back as a special added bonus. But the Spanish captain sensed malcontents aboard the Corella, and inspired them to bloody mutiny.


    ¡°I see, I see. Your first mate has a decent head on his shoulders. Was it Jacobson? I thought I heard a rumour he¡¯d gone with you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir, it was Jacobson.¡±


    ¡°And did I not also hear that Jacobson himself attempted to organize a mutiny?¡±


    ¡°He did, sir. But the island tribunal has apparently already set him and his cohorts aright. He is free now. They are somewhere on this island, no doubt slandering me as we speak.¡±


    ¡°Then we are joined in our grief at being scorned, my friend,¡± Rogers sighed, waving to a seat. ¡°I myself have become the subject of considerable gossip since last we saw one another.¡±


    ¡°My word, I hope it is no scandal. I met Hollinger at sea, he told me you wished to meet. He also said you had made some eager changes to piracy allowances around Royal. Is that the source of your grief?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, it is,¡± Rogers said. As they both took a seat, he produced a decanter of wine and poured them each a glass. Vhingfrith usually did not like to drink before nightfall, but he always made sure to indulge Rogers while in the man¡¯s presence.


    Woodes Rogers was a complicated man. He spent most of his childhood in Poole, England, running part of his father¡¯s estate, along with his mother, while his father was working as a merchant captain. After apprenticing to the Bristol mariner John Yeamans, well celebrated, he graduated to a life of privateering and exploring. Benjamin recalled he married a woman named Sarah Whetstone, or something like it, from good stock, and together they had a son and two daughters, all very bright, to hear the stories, and well on their way to enhancing the family fortune. Rogers¡¯s life could have continued along that trajectory, and had he died at any moment on that path, any man would have called his life a resounding success.


    But things took a turn in 1708, and no one quite knew why. He pushed himself into politics, and was known to speak loudly at parties in support of the aristocracy, and donated considerable money towards all ventures that rounded up the growing homeless and fought the escalating crime lords in England. He funded prisons and orphanages, he became an advocate for the press-gangs and insisted¡ªquite loudly in newsprint¡ªthat they grab any ne¡¯er-do-well in the streets and force them into service. No one knew why he suddenly seemed to need this done. No idea at all.


    Even less idea why he left England four years ago, with a mandate from a cousin of King George to aid Lord Hamilton, Governor of Jamaica, to set aright Port Royal.


    Woodes Rogers had commanded two frigates on his trip across the world to the Caribbean, the Duke and the Duchess, and sank three pirate vessels before he even made it to Madagascar. He took all their captains prisoner. Blackbeard himself narrowly escaped Rogers¡¯s wrath. Most of the pirates Rogers brought into Nassau were hanged, but three of them were rescued in a daring prison escape by members of the Republic of Pirates.


    And now Vhingfrith sat sipping wine with the pirate-hunter, in a room full of books, a quaint little office-study with finely-crafted settees made in London, and nearby French tables and deerskin rugs. The room smelled nicely of incense and fruit. Not a spot of dust to be found lingering. One could be forgiven for thinking they were in the study of an upper-class erudite, and not a pirate-slayer. Benjamin had only made Rogers¡¯s acquaintance by happenstance, at a ball held in the lower floor of this very castle two years prior.


    The circumstances of that meeting were contrived, of course, Rogers merely needing someone to help sail with the Duchess¡¯s new captain, and see to that it arrived safely in Nassau. That done, Benjamin had returned to Port Royal looking for privateering work, and was surprised to find a letter from Woodes Rogers in his morning mail. They began a correspondence, one in which Rogers took a keen interest in all matters of Vhingfrith¡¯s methods at sea. Why he should have attracted the attention of the pirate-hunter, though, Benjamin did not know, and had never asked. But Rogers had been briefly exiled from Port Royal, as the Brethren, that famous collective of privateers, had made it known he was unwelcome, as his attacks against piracy had caught some privateers in the crossfire.


    I wonder how he¡¯s managed to return, and in such a prominent station.


    ¡°So, if you met Hollinger, then you know why I¡¯ve asked you to come here,¡± Rogers said, crossing his legs and leaning back.


    Vhingfrith nodded and set his glass down on the table. ¡°He mentioned you¡¯ve taken command of the militia, and that you may need for support of your new piracy laws.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. I won¡¯t mince words, Benjamin, we¡¯ve been at war. Many wars. While you were gone, a sort of secret war began right here in these very streets.¡± He nodded to the window. ¡°Out there, villains cut one another¡¯s throat and it¡¯s all my militia can do to keep the peace, never mind investigating each crime on its own. Why, Roche Brasiliano hacked a man¡¯s head off just days ago in The Golden Goose, and neither pirate nor militia has arrested him. My militia are spread thin across the island, we are quite overworked. Quite overworked.¡±


    His militia. He calls the King¡¯s Militia his? What has changed? What power dynamic am I missing? ¡°Hollinger also mentioned you¡¯ve got a lead on the Le¨®n Coronado and the Santo Domingo de Guzman.¡±


    A smile flickered across Rogers¡¯s face. ¡°Yes, I thought that would catch your attention. Indeed, my friend, our Intelligence Office has been hard at work gathering what information they can from every port. And I am responsible for shoring them all up. This past year, I asked the governor to beg for more support from the Crown, and wouldn¡¯t you know it, they opened the Treasury for us!¡± He slapped his knee in jubilee.


    Benjamin was careful how he showed his appreciation. ¡°How happy for you.¡±


    ¡°Some of it was siphoned off by the damned admirals, but I did manage to secure enough to begin paying informants. Now I¡¯ve got people in Hope Bay, Madagascar, Nassau, all over. I¡¯ve got the ladies in the Code Office burning all their candles throughout the nights, organizing all the reports as they come in.¡± Rogers nodded in self-satisfaction. ¡°We are certain we at least know the Coronado¡¯s mission.¡±


    Vhingfrith lifted an eyebrow. ¡°Upon my word, please don¡¯t keep me in suspense, sir.¡±


    ¡°Her new captain¡¯s name is Rodriguez. He replaced Captain Casta months ago when he died of yellow jack. What we know of Rodriguez is that he¡¯s a cunning tactician. You remember when the Arbury sank last year? That was him. And in a bloody fog, no less! Our informants on St. Kitts say they overheard conversations between Rodriguez and his crew when last they moored there, and some of them even got a peek at his papers.¡± Rogers leaned forward conspiratorially. ¡°The Le¨®n Coronado is here in the Caribbean to recruit English pirates to join the Spaniards in a war against us. And apparently, they¡¯re quite convincing.¡±


    ____


    The long-accepted method for stealthily infiltrating an island was to find a river that connected to the sea, and then follow that river upstream, either by swimming or walking along the shore. Laurier knew that it had to be a night-time infiltration, no other way would do, and the assault must come from the sea, for if they traveled by land Raymond Smith¡¯s people might receive rumour that the Ladyman was in the area.


    However, while traveling upriver was the easiest course, it also happened to be the most dangerous.


    With solemn and slow power did the Rio Grande flow past many outlying cotton and sugarcane plantations. It took Laurier and his pirates straight around Port Antonio, a lesser-used port that had kept its name after the Spanish fled Jamaica, and which was so ill-equipped that even pirates hardly frequented it. Rainwater that flowed down from Blue Mountain Peak and a number of hilly ranges could sometimes create quick rapids in the Rio Grande, even dangerous ones. Such a rainfall was coming down now, and had been coming down all day, and while Laurier was glad of the rain¡¯s natural concealment, it made the water rise up the shore rapidly. He, plus twenty of his men, crept along the western shore while carrying five large boats, which they would need for quick escape.


    Lightning lanced across the sky, briefly illuminating the jungle.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Three times, Akil held up his hand to halt them, and each time the gesture was passed down the line. Laurier was with the men at the back, holding up a boat on their shoulders, giving their arms a rest. When Akil once again gave them the go-ahead, everyone lifted their boats and moved with soft knees and careful steps.


    The rain picked up. As did the wind. Trees swayed and hissed conspiratorially to one another. They could hear animals running all around, seeking shelter. Lightning revealed angry, menacing clouds that would have meant a terrible night were they at sea. Just now, the clouds were ideal for stealth.


    Fortune already favours us, Laurier thought. He only hoped it held through the night, and that the information he had on Smith¡¯s plantation was all still true.


    Their legs burned from the sustained effort. Twice, men slipped in the mud and fell, and nearly allowed their boats to go tumbling down the incline, where they would have been lost in the river. They gritted their teeth and pushed through another mile before, at last, they crested a final hill, and looked down at a house with a number of windows lit by candles.


    Laurier whispered, ¡°Drop the boats, lads.¡±


    Anne came up to each man, handing them small oilskin bags which held their pistols¡ªshe had done this so that their pistols did not get wet. They drew their cutlasses and daggers, and each man surveyed the terrain. Fields of sugarcane swayed in heavy wind.


    ¡°Remember,¡± he said to them. ¡°Dead men tell no tales.¡±


    Lightning flashed, and he saw them all give a nod.


    Laurier was the first to start down the hill. There were two teams: Akil with his Africans, plus Dobbs and Roche; Kepler, LaCroix and the others were with the captain. As one, they moved into the sugarcane fields, then spread out like infection. Raymond Smith¡¯s house was ahead. The barn, and the house where he kept his slaves, was just fifty yards east of it. There was only a handful of nightwatchmen that they could see¡ªnot militiamen, men dressed in pants or overalls. Akil came upon one of them and slit the man¡¯s throat without breaking stride, and that man gargled in the mud as Dobbs nearly tripped over him.


    ¡°Are you ready, Dobbs?¡± Laurier asked.


    ¡°Yes, Cap¡¯n.¡± Dobbs made sure his bayonet was secured to the end of his rifle, then crept along, following Roche.


    ____


    They talked long into the night. One of Rogers¡¯s slaves came in to start a fire in the fireplace, and gave Benjamin an unreadable look as she left. Needles of rain smacked the window. Vhingfrith had now unbuttoned his coat and leaned back on the sofa, one arm draped across its back. He held a pipe in his hand¡ªindulging what he could not indulge at sea¡ªand he listened to Woodes Rogers lay out his plan.


    ¡°I don¡¯t just want to keep them at bay, Benjamin,¡± Rogers said. ¡°I want to destroy them. Only a crushing defeat will send the right message back to Philip. He must see that there is no foothold to be had in Port Royal, none at all, and that the only commerce to be had is through England. If he wants to trade, that is fine, but he gets all the Caribbean¡¯s sugar and cotton by buying from us. That is it. That is the message, and that is the line we must draw.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard he¡¯s thinking of going around us. To the Colonies. There are rebels there in the Colonies. My father talked about dissenters, men thinking about revolution. The French may be allying themselves with those dissenters, or so I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    Rogers, cheeks red from wine, snorted. ¡°Let them think they have such a foothold. It will come to nothing.¡± He waved his hands dismissively. Then he sat on the sofa beside Vhingfrith. ¡°Right now, all I need is your promise to help me in this enterprise, Benjamin. I need all the help I can get. The pirates are a problem. If we want to have a bulwark against King Philip, we need order and discipline throughout the Caribbean, and these bloody pirates are a wrinkle in that discipline.¡±


    ¡°You want Lively to become a war vessel for you?¡±


    ¡°Why not? You¡¯ve already proven you can take down a nao on your own. Quite the feat, actually!¡±


    ¡°I feel it necessary to remind you, it was John Laurier¡¯s plan.¡±


    ¡°That poof! You don¡¯t need him, Benjamin. You needn¡¯t stand in his shadow, nor in your father¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Their shadows, sir?¡±


    ¡°The Ladyman is as awful a human being as those you hear out there right now.¡± He gestured at the window, through which screaming could be heard, and fighting, even above the torrential downpour. A shot rang out from somewhere in the city, and a constable¡¯s whistle blared. ¡°The Ladyman is a man of no integrity and small imagination, he is soon for the assizes, and you injure your own reputation by allowing him to take credit for your craft and genius.¡±


    ¡°Beg your pardon, sir, but I will not have Captain Laurier painted in such injurious light. Beg your pardon,¡± he repeated. ¡°His ship and crew were instrumental in the operation upon the Nuestra.¡± Rogers looked surprised by that, and smiled. But the smile did not touch his eyes.


    Benjamin swallowed. What am I doing? Why am I defending him before this man of all people¡ª


    ¡°Do you disagree Laurier and his kind will soon be brought before the assizes?¡± said Rogers.


    ¡°Beg your pardon again, sir, but the assizes deal with civil and criminal law in recognized counties of England. We are very much outside of all that, I think you¡¯ll agree.¡± He added, ¡°The Caribbean is like a Second World, outside of the one everyone else lives in.¡±


    Rogers¡¯s fake smile lingered. ¡°You¡¯re speaking in defence of a known pirate, Benjamin. You¡¯re even trying to give him all the credit for your successful assault on the Nuestra.¡±


    Benjamin tried to recover the moment with articulation. ¡°The Germans have a word: fingerspitzengef¨¹hl. Do you know what it means?¡±


    Rogers sniffed, flicked something off his boot. ¡°Afraid I¡¯m not up on my German.¡±


    ¡°It means ¡®finger tips feeling,¡¯ it is said of a person who can somehow feel out a situation, feel when things are about to go wrong, or when a key opportunity rears its head in combat. They can see crucial turning points when others cannot, and seize upon it. Captain Laurier has that, and he can be a cunning ally when used properly. That¡¯s all I meant,¡± he said with polite smile. ¡°And as for my father, his shadow and I are not so acquainted as you may think.¡±


    Rogers sighed heavily and slapped his legs as he stood up. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ve had too much to drink.¡± Nevertheless, he paced over to the table with the decanter, and poured himself more wine. ¡°You know, Benjamin, I have heard a most distressing rumour about you, too. Most distressing. Men say¡­ah, forget what they say¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, let¡¯s not forget it. Let us speak it. They say I¡¯m of the Molly-house. They also say I¡¯m the Devil¡¯s Son. Unnatural. And they say that I led men into a fourteen-day darkness, through the Hellmouth and back.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I heard that rumour,¡± said Rogers, eyeing him over his glass. He took a sip, and stared unblinkingly at Benjamin. ¡°Tell me, what happened out there, Benjamin?¡±


    Vhingfrith splayed his hands, offering his utter lack of evidence. ¡°Nothing that can be explained, sir. Like many of God¡¯s miracles.¡±


    ¡°You think it was a miracle?¡±


    ¡°If it doesn¡¯t qualify, I¡¯d like to know what does.¡±


    Rogers stood up, and signaled Vhingfrith to follow him. Together, they stepped through a door, and began walking about the personal apartments, until at last they came to a balcony with an overhang that protected them from the rain, which had just started in.


    ¡°Fourteen days without sunrise.¡± Rogers shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve heard strange tales like that coming from the Colonies and elsewhere. I was sure it was just some old sailor¡¯s tale, told in drinking halls to pass the time, stay the monotony. Like the stories of pirate treasure.¡± He laughed. ¡°Like the stories of French ships looking for Levasseur¡¯s gold.¡± Lightning briefly lit one half of his face, making him appear half studious, half ominous.


    Vhingfrith tried to betray nothing. At first he thought that somehow his and Munt¡¯s secret meetings had been found out, but as he watched Rogers stagger over to the balcony rail, and stare out into the storm, he realized the man had only uttered this minor detail about Levasseur by accident. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard that one. Are the French searching here in the Caribbean?¡±


    Rogers glanced up suddenly. ¡°Hm? No, no, no. It¡¯s happening somewhere in the Indian Ocean. Not sure where. Although some rumours say the search is happening all over. Nothing confirmed. The only reason I know about it is because, apparently, they¡¯ve gotten an English fellow to help them find it. Some traitor. Forget his name. Odd-something. Eh¡­Oddsummers, that¡¯s it, yes.¡±


    Vhingfrith felt his blood go cold. Oddsummers? He¡¯s involved? And Munt never told me! Does he not know? Oddsummers was a man of strange reputation, a ruthless man whose powers of both seamanship and leadership were damn near held as supernatural, twice now believed dead, only to rise again and gain a new crew, despite all odds, and rally them to aid in raids and at-sea piracy. Does Munt know Oddsummers is involved in the hunt for Levasseur¡¯s treasure? Good God, worse, does Oddsummers know Munt is involved? Benjamin maintained composure while Rogers stumbled over to another rail, and leaned on it. ¡°Well, if it¡¯s in the Indian Ocean, it should not concern you, should it?¡±


    ¡°I do not know, Benjamin. I just do not know anymore. All I know is that I need to protect our assets here in the Caribbean. That means keeping the Spanish at bay, which in turn means getting our pirate problem under control first.¡±


    Vhingfrith tried to be fair-minded. ¡°Might not the pirates keep on being an asset to us, as they long have, as continued attackers against the Spanish?¡±


    Rogers waved his hand again. ¡°As like to attack our ships as the Spaniards¡¯, this new breed.¡± He looked towards the North Docks, then swept his gaze south towards the Turtle Crawles, where a preponderance of pirate ships were all jammed together like rats seeking shelter from the rain. ¡°No, they have gotten too out of control. They have served their purpose and now must go. Lord Hamilton has been importuning me at no end, he has charged me with this task.¡± He sighed. ¡°Now come, let¡¯s go meet them.¡±


    Vhingfrith blinked in surprise. ¡°What? Now? But it¡¯s so late. And you¡¯re¡ª¡±


    ¡°Drunk?¡± Rogers chortled. ¡°They¡¯re used to this from me, Benjamin. And they¡¯ve been waiting all day to hear from you, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°They?¡±


    ¡°The rest of the Admiralty. I promised them you were coming. So let¡¯s go. Gather your hat. Let¡¯s at least one of us look presentable. And be honest when you answer their questions.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Only that dishonesty will not avail you, Benjamin,¡± Rogers said ominously.


    ____


    The plan had been to set a fire to the crops. That was the primary plan. The fire was meant to rouse Smith and his plantation workers, both the English, Brazilians, and the slaves, into rushing out into the night with buckets to put out the crops. Smith¡¯s people would have effectively opened all the locked doors for John and his people. That was the plan. But the storm made fire impossible.


    The secondary plan, which had been concocted back on the Hazard once they saw the storm clouds rolling in, and was carefully worked out between John, Anne, LaCroix, and Akil, was a stealthier approach. Rain had to always be accounted for¡ªit was the very reason sugarcane could grow so well in the Caribbean and few other places, for sugarcane required heavy rains practically year-road, and it despised even a moment¡¯s dryness.


    The deluge caused deep puddles to form all over the plantation. A hundred yards from him, John spotted a pair of farmhands walking the perimeter, each man holding a lantern. John was not an erudite like Benjamin, he knew how to read, but most of the books he indulged in dealt with strange alchemy, with military-style tactics and movements, with seamanship, and with wilderness survival. He knew how to cross land, he know how to manage men across it, and what natural and unnatural land formations to take advantage of.


    There was a small stream that had been diverted from the Rio Grande, artificially made to feed into a pond stocked with trout. John and his people waded through it. But John gave the signal for them to halt, and he advanced ahead, moving through water that went almost up to his groin.


    He knew how to move through water quietly, and could emerge from it almost utterly silent. The trick was not to let any wet point of your body get ahead of any other part, and not to leave any ¡°ledges,¡± such as your knees, for water to spill from. This meant coming out of the water with the toes pointed straight down, so that water ran down your leg and merged with the water, so that no drops splashed into the water and gave you away. Anne knew this trick, too, but was not as graceful as John, who came up behind one of the farmhands¡ªthe one wearing a blue scarf and toboggin¡ªdrew his dagger, and plunged it into the man¡¯s neck.


    The lantern splashed into the grass, and before the second man could draw the hunting knife from its sheath, John had run him through with his cutlass. The Toledo steel moved smoothly through the man¡¯s guts, and John clapped a hand over the man¡¯s mouth to silence his scream.


    It was over in moments, and Anne and the others descended on the house. From the heavens, it must have looked like lions surrounding a sleeping target.


    Candles still flickered in three separate windows. People were awake in the Smith household. Doubtless, the storm kept them from sleep. John imagined Raymond was telling his children a fun story to dispatch their fears, or else he was sleeping and letting the slave nannies attend to that. John imagined house slaves moving from room to room, checking the roof for leaks and placing buckets underneath any leaks they found. He knew the patterns of such households, he¡¯d grown up in one. Such wealthy men often had cellars, and those were prone to flooding, so Raymond would surely be checking on those hourly.


    There were locks on the doors. Simple locks. John had long studied the history of the modern lock. He knew that the Sumerians had used pin tumbler locks since 4000 BCE, and that the Egyptians eventually improved on them. Centuries later, padlocks and warded locks appeared in China and Rome. And then for centuries more, silence from lock inventors. Nothing was done to improve them. Then, finally, came Murdock¡¯s innovations. Modern warded locks were all the rage for wealthy men, and they could be a problem for any thief. Unless you had a skeleton key.


    Some called them pick-lock keys. No one pick-lock could open all doors, but a ring of such keys, with a myriad of variations, could often be utilized to at least toggle the latches of the inner mechanism. Sometimes you had to insert one pick-lock, move it around until you felt or heard a click, then slowly turn it. Then, holding it in place with your teeth, you might insert a sliver of bent, sharp metal, to act as a torsion wrench, while a third pick was inserted to push and prod at the tumblers.


    This could take minutes, or it could take hours. Unless you had practiced as much as John had. Kneeling at the back door of the house, he clenched a skeleton key between his teeth and held it steady, hardly breathing as he slipped the torsion wrench inside. In three short breaths, the door opened with the softest click, and John waited to see if anyone inside had heard. Instead of kicking it open, he swung the door open fast¡ªopening a door slowly only allowed the hinges to creak louder¡ªand stopped it short of banging against the stove. They had gained entry into the Smith¡¯s kitchen.


    John signaled Anne, whose eyes had adjusted enough to the dark to see him, and she signaled back to LaCroix, who fired a single shot in the air.


    Across the plantation, Akil and his team heard it, and charged into the house with the white farmhands.


    ____


    They sat him on a stool, while they sat in highbacked chairs behind a long oak table. Torches lit the room, they flickered in the storm¡¯s breeze coming from a single window. He was before them like he was on trial. Vhingfrith wondered if he had allowed himself to walk into some sort of trap, if his talk with Rogers had merely been an interview, a means to discern the degree of his loyalty to England. If it had been a test, had he failed it? Had his love for John Laurier shone through? Ought Vhingfrith have given his full-throated support to Rogers¡¯s plan to fight the Spanish?


    Ought he run now?


    You will be surrounded by enemies and one day they will come for you, his father had said to him more than once. And you will not see it coming. So you must never be alone with these men. You must never allow yourself to be outnumbered by English officers¡ª


    Dear God, he hadn¡¯t even seen it coming until now. Vhingfrith had no pistol, only his sword, and it wouldn¡¯t even get him out the door.


    There were four of them, including Lord Hamilton himself and Rogers, who now lounged in a chair, foot up on the table, appraising Vhingfrith.


    ¡°We are glad you could finally make time for us,¡± said Commander Dill. The tall man had a bald pate but a rim of white hair around his head. ¡°I am made to understand you have been here for weeks, and have yet to pay visit. You must have been powerfully busy, indeed.¡±


    ¡°I was, sir,¡± Vhingfrith said. Hands in his lap, posture erect, he made sure to look each of them in the eye. ¡°Monstrously busy. As I told Captain Rogers, and Lord Hamilton at the ridotto.¡±


    ¡°I had assumed a man of your stature and business would be overeager to get up to speed with old friends.¡±


    ¡°As I said, monstrously busy. I also lean away from gossip, and dare not indulge in island politics, so I¡¯m afraid that also makes me monstrously dull.¡± It was wit used as a knife, but turned on himself. A disarming tactic his mother taught him. Commander Dill smiled politely, but Vhingfrith noticed the smile did not reach his eyes.


    Lord Edmondson, lieutenant-governor of the island, leaned forward eagerly. His bicorne rested on the table in front of him, a reminder of his dual station as a navy man, and his shimmering epaulettes shimmered in candlelight. The mole on his face jumped with each syllable he enunciated. ¡°You were seen walking about with Captain John Laurier.¡± He left it at that.


    Vhingfrith maintained composure, and nodded. ¡°He and I were closely allied at sea, during both our execution of the Nuestra and the unfortunate anomaly that happened to us at sea, and which took half our men from us.¡±


    ¡°And what was that anomaly?¡±


    ¡°The same one Lord Hamilton and I spoke of at the ridotto.¡±


    Lord Hamilton removed his wooden teeth, and chewed on a banana, but scarcely looked at Vhingfrith.


    ¡°Describe it,¡± said Edmondson.


    Vhingfrith tried not to let his frustration at being asked that question a thousand times already show. ¡°I cannot say what happened, Lord Edmondson. Nor can I say what happened days ago when the long night ended, and the sun rose as though it was late for only dinner, and with a red ring around it.¡±


    Admiral Stewart, who was leaned way back in his chair, scratched the grey shrubs above his eyes almost irritably, and tapped the table with the stump of his missing finger. He said, ¡°Word has reached us that men aboard both the Lively and the Hazard have said you had some sort of theory about what was going on at sea.¡±


    Benjamin kept his composure. These were all devout men, they believed in the Almighty and likely believed spirits made men see and do things. Strange things. ¡°It is merely speculation. Who can say for certain?¡±


    ¡°Do you have that theory with you now?¡±


    It appeared there was going to be no letting it go. ¡°There was a man aboard Captain Laurier¡¯s ship, named Rothlis, who kept saying that what we were experiencing had something to do with the firmament. I thought this an interesting theory, and simply told others¡­¡± He trailed off.


    ¡°Told others what?¡±


    ¡°Honestly, Admiral, I cannot say. For I had many theories whilst at sea, and it is a poor scholar who dares to speak extemporaneously on such cosmic matters¡ª¡±


    ¡°And what is your theory now on the matter?¡± asked Lord Hamilton, speaking through a mouthful of fruit. He looked at Vhingfrith, juices running down his chin. ¡°Was it an anomaly, or merely mass hallucination? Perhaps you and your crew were only sick, poisoned by lead in your food. We¡¯ve all heard it happen.¡±


    Vhingfrith shook his head. ¡°I¡­am not a scholar, Governor. I would ask the priests and men of letters here on the island, and back in England and elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re asking you, Captain. You were the one who saw it, and you were the most educated man on either of the ships. So tell us. Or regale us. Tell us something we might not already know, something we might have missed.¡±


    Feeling his choler rising, Vhingfrith looked down at the cobblestone floor, laid down by long-dead Spaniards. He thought about time itself, how it rolls on and on, how there is no going back, how the places we built and the homes we live in can never be ours forever, how ownership of land and things continuously changes hands, how the order of things are not necessarily fixed. He ran a hand over his face, and said what had been burdening his mind and heart of late.


    ¡°My lords, I would say only to you that I know, from my books, that though the world seems still and sturdy, the state of the world and the Universe itself is not fixed. Our world moves through empty void, and, we believe, so does our sun. We are hurtling through the cosmos at a ridiculous rate, and we may call that black emptiness ¡®waters.¡¯ Now, like the waters here on Earth, it may be that they only appear empty. From shore, one cannot see more than a few miles out. Even once at sea, monsters such as whales or sharks do not immediately leap out to be seen. You must get far, far out to sea, and look at those waters closely, be able to readily see what¡¯s there. And even then, naturalists will tell you, one can only see so much unless you swim deep. Very deep.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying, Captain?¡± asked Edmondson.


    ¡°Are you saying it wasn¡¯t lead poisoning?¡± asked Dill.


    ¡°Suppose it wasn¡¯t,¡± Benjamin said.


    ¡°Then what?¡± Admiral Stewart urged.


    He thought, To hell with it, let¡¯s speculate. ¡°Consider this entire world our ship. It has its cargo, its resources, which keep us alive. The sun and the moon affect the tides, so there is a push and a pull from the heavens. A measurable push and pull. But sometimes, there is a storm. There are unseen seamounts¡ªmountains below the water that we cannot see because their peaks do not quite breach the surface. But this ship, my lords, it has no captain, no pilot, and no crew, save God Himself.¡±


    Dill appeared to squeeze his facial muscles in consternation. ¡°This is all very fascinating, but I feel as if I have just sailed into a mist. What are you getting at?¡±


    ¡°We are merely passengers on this ship, my lords. But what happens if God momentarily steps away the steering? Or what happens if he leaves an angel in charge as timoneer, one who steers us a-wrong? And what happens if something deep down swims up to say hello?¡±


    Admiral Stewart said: ¡°You¡¯re saying¡­God steered us into¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m only being poetical, my lords. But I believe something of the like may be possible. I believe we¡­that is, all of us on this great Earth¡­we may have passed through some gate. Some¡­I don¡¯t know¡­some distortion of the fabric God has woven. Think of a blanket, stretched tightly on all corners. Place small marbles on it, and those marbles will stay as still as though they were on a table. Now, set a melon at the center of that blanket, and watch all the marbles slowly roll towards it. If our world crossed through unknown black waters, it may have left an impression such as that, and it may have attracted something to it, just as the melon attracts the marbles. A pull.¡±


    Admiral Stewart lit a terracotta pipe, took a draft, and pointed it at Benjamin. ¡°The strange moon you saw¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Again, this is but one man¡¯s speculation. I think it obvious I am not the erudite many of you are, what with my meagre upbringing.¡± Again with the self-stabbing wit. He was confident that it was key right now. There were times when he must make himself seem like one of them, and times when he must make himself the lesser. This was the latter.


    When Vhingfrith had finished speaking, he looked around at their hard, chiseled faces. They were, by turns, skeptical, horrified, amused, and, quite possibly, not a little frightened.


    It occurred to him, They have been thinking about this. In their sleep, in their dreams. They have heard the rumours that other sailors across the sea saw this same phenomenon, and they are frightened. He looked over at Rogers, staring at him severely, drinking more wine. God, even he is unnerved.


    Vhingfrith shook his head. ¡°I am sorry, my lords, but that is the only way I can account for what I saw, and for these rumours you¡¯ve received from other faraway lands.¡±


    Rogers said, ¡°Is there any reason to believe the Spanish may have caused this?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Vhingfrith almost laughed. Almost. He held it in, for fear of being executed.


    ¡°Is it possible this is all some clever trick by the Spaniards? Could Philip have¡ªI don¡¯t know¡ªcould he have conjured this up?¡±


    ¡°Or those cults in France?¡± said Dill. They all looked at him. ¡°I am not trying to be fatuous, there are people talking about the rise of strange cults all over.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard no search rumours, my lords.¡±


    No one said anything for a time. Rogers finally pulled his feet off the table and leaned forward in silent rumination. The others conferred in whispers with one another, and Vhingfrith swallowed sand in his throat, hoping he had not somehow said something that would convince a priest he had blasphemed.


    And then the interrogation began. It started out as a light barrage of unrelated questions. Commander Dill wanted to know the nature of Captain Vhingfrith¡¯s relationship with Captain Laurier. Lord Edmondson wanted to ask about the fourteen-day night, and the rumours he¡¯d heard that children had been slain aboard the Hazard in some ritual conducted by the freed slaves. Admiral Stewart wanted a few things made clear as to who exactly owned the Lively. Was it truly Benjamin¡¯s ship to have, or had he absconded with it before his father¡¯s will had been read, as some rumours had it?


    The only question he had to carefully dodge was about John, all other questions he answered as truthfully as he knew how, all the while wondering if he was about to be lumped in with Hazard¡¯s pirates and, finally, tossed out of the society he had so carefully manicured his reputation to fit into. Would he be put into chains? He would die first. Right then and there, he decided.


    Then, Admiral Stewart said, ¡°Captain Vhingfrith, if you had to guess, where would you say Captain Laurier is? Right this instant?¡±


    Vhingfrith¡¯s right hand twitched reflexively, almost reaching for the locket around his neck. He didn¡¯t know why. But he caught himself and touched the silver ring on his left hand.


    ¡°Why do you ask, my lord?¡±


    ____


    The slaughter began almost as soon as the gunshot rang out. It roused two farmhands from their slumber and they shot up from their beds. Ten of them slept in a single room¡ªAkil counted them, as he counted everything else¡ªtheir beds all faced each other, with barely enough space to walk between them. And there they found Akil, machete in each hand. Bogoa and the other Africans all had cutlasses, and all they knew was that they must pierce someone with the pointy end. The two farmhands¡¯ lives were ended by two quick swings of Akil¡¯s machete. One of them got out a scream, which alerted the others, all of whom leapt from their beds and reached for knives and pistols when they saw six dark figures moving like Death among their beds.


    They are all lined up in rows, Akil mused as he lunged at the next one. This is too easy.


    And it was. Like the last raiding party he had done with his uncle on the Ekitti tribe¡¯s supply run. Surrounded at night. The fires having doused their fires. The Ekitti had been left blind. Akil¡¯s footsteps had been masked by the sound of rain pattering against large leaves, filling up the streams. These men were only his enemies because they were John Laurier¡¯s enemies, and because they stood in his way of liberating Smith¡¯s slaves and liberating himself. That was enough.


    These men were not warriors. They were plantation workers, they knew how to use shovels to move dirt, and how to get a stubborn mule to pull a cart. War¡ªtrue war¡ªwas utterly beyond them. Akil was a prince, a war chieftain with years of both training and experience. Each death was nothing to him. Even the white boy, Dobbs, appeared to conduct himself as more of a fighter than these men, for he stabbed two of them in the gut with the bayonet at the end of his rifle. And the Brazilian man with the long black hair and clean-shaven face¡­Akil was disturbed by the reveling he took in gutting each man, even long after they were dead. Roche cut into their throats with his dagger and worked his blade up, down, and sideways, until he broke through the spine and pulled the heads loose. Bogoa and the others exchanged worrisome glances.


    Akil had seen men like Roche before, warriors reveling in death. He shrugged at the others and said, ¡°This is war, brothers. Everyone expresses themselves differently in it. You will have to find your own footing. Come.¡±


    The coppery smell of blood filled the room, as did the acrid odour of bowels being emptied as each dead dying man shit himself. One man was hastily trying to prime a pistol when Akil kicked him in his chest, knocking him against a wall, and impaling him to it. The man spat blood and whimpered, then muttered something about a message he needed to send his wife. Akil jerked his machete free and the man fell, spasming, reaching for someone who wasn¡¯t there.


    Another man launched himself at Akil, but parried the bayonet and thrust the man in his gut and threw him to one side, barely even exerting himself.


    Bogoa said. ¡°Here! I found keys over here!¡± He held up a large ring of jingling keys.


    ¡°Omari,¡± Akil called, speaking to the youngest of his men. ¡°Take these. Free the men we found outside in the barn. Make sure they understand what I said to them before.¡± They had discovered African men, women, and children all huddled in that sodden barn, most of them half naked looking starved. ¡°If they want freedom, this is their only chance! This is it! Freedom for their wives and children! And never another chance like this shall they find! Go!¡±


    Once Omari was gone, Bogoa and the others followed Akil out the back door, out into the rain, to the servants¡¯ quarters.


    A few steps from the door, Akil froze. Something caught his eye. There were figures in the rain, dark shambling shapes, some of them running. And eyes. Sets of purple eyes that shimmered like a dog¡¯s eyes in firelight, there and gone. Some of those eyes appeared in the puddles of water at his feet, and had his heart not been fortified against such astonishing phenomenon during the long night, Akil might have been terrified. As it was, he was only afraid, but still in control of his wits.


    ¡°Akil?¡±


    ¡°I see them, Bogoa.¡±


    ¡°What were they, rafiki?¡±


    Roche Brasiliano said, ¡°Captain should know, we all in danger.¡±


    The boy Dobbs stared wide-eyed at the darkness all around, at the roaring river a hundred yards away. ¡°This is an evil,¡± he whispered.


    ¡°What are they, rafiki?¡± Bogoa repeated.


    Akil stood in the storm, searching around for the enemy, but the sets of shimmering eyes had gone. He shook his head. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving.¡±


    ____


    The tiny wooden steps Vhingfrith stood on belonged to a small house at the end of a nameless alley just off of Queen Street. He stood in the rain, wine bottle in hand, half drunk, and pounding on the door. A dozen vagrants were in the alley, all huddled under sheets propped up by sticks, all trying to avoid being soaked. He was aware of some of their eyes on him. Vhingfrith touched his cutlass. A gunshot sounded from somewhere in Port Royal. Or was it just thunder? Hard to tell.


    The rain fell harder, causing a small but swift creek to form in the alley.


    He kept banging until the door finally swung open and Munt stood there in a chemise, tucking it between his legs, while holding up a tall candle. It was the only light source in the entire black alley, and his fat jowls were trembling with rage when he said, ¡°What is the bloody meaning¡ªBenjamin?¡±


    ¡°We need to talk,¡± he said as he swept inside. He kicked the door shut and pulled out a piece of wet parchment from his inside coat pocket and threw it on the kitchen table. ¡°That was just handed to me by the Admiralty Court, during an extremely late-night session, during which we discussed many things.¡± He took a swig of wine.


    Munt said, ¡°This couldn¡¯t have waited ¡¯til¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Just read it, Munt.¡±


    The round man waddled over to the table. His face darkened as he finally noted Vhingfrith¡¯s queer manner. Besides the occasional flicker of lightning, the candle was the only light source in the whole house. Vhingfrith paced in darkness as he saw Munt pull on his spectacles and go through the letter, line by line, his mouth slightly parted, one finger stroking his lower lip pensively. Then, like a man defeated, he lowered the letter and sighed. ¡°So, they did it, after all. They gave you a letter of marque for both the Le¨®n Coronado and the Santo Domingo de Guzman.¡± He removed his spectacles. ¡°They¡¯ve given you everything you want, and so you¡¯ll be off soon. Which means you cannot help me in my endeavour. You will have all the money you need to take on your own crew, no doubt.¡±


    Vhingfrith paced a moment more. ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I will be given no funding.¡±


    Munt looked up in surprise. ¡°What? But how can they expect you to¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Their interrogation of me went long, Munt. During it, they asked me many questions. About the Fourteen-Day Darkness, as it is now called in renown. They asked about rumours that I killed, or had others kill, members of my crew while at sea. They asked if the Lively was indeed mine, and not some stolen ship I rebranded.¡±


    Benjamin took another long draught from his bottle, and wiped his lips.


    ¡°And then they asked me about Captain Laurier, and what exactly I knew of his activities this very night.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    He wiped rainwater from his face, and continued pacing. ¡°They say they have it on good authority the Ladyman has been asking about Raymond Smith, specifically about Smith¡¯s protections, or lack thereof, around his plantation. They happen to know that he left the Turtle Crawles late last night, and that he wasn¡¯t fully crewed. So, they asked, ¡®Where was he going?¡¯ Their theory is Captain Laurier has found an unusual answer to his crewing problem. They say he¡¯s going to go to Raymond Smith¡¯s plantation tonight, he¡¯s going to kill Smith and all his people, all except his slaves, which he will take as a new crew.¡±


    Munt¡¯s face twisted in horror. ¡°They can¡¯t mean¡­¡±


    ¡°They present as evidence that, while I handed over my slaves dutifully, and got the reward for them, the Ladyman held on to his, for reasons that mystify. Selling those slaves would have brought him a handsome prize. So why didn¡¯t he?¡±


    Munt covered his mouth. ¡°My God¡­¡±


    Benjamin snorted in self-derision. ¡°I should¡¯ve seen it, Munt. I should¡¯ve realized what he was up to the moment I heard from Otis at The Golden Goose that John was asking about Raymond Smith. If this is true¡­if it is¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be hanged. No trial, no tribunal, no assizes.¡±


    ¡°Straight to the bloody gallows.¡± Benjamin laughed mirthlessly, then kicked over a chair and screamed. ¡°Bloody fucking fool! What has he done?!¡±


    ¡°Benjamin¡ªyou have to separate yourself from this. Surely they know you aren¡¯t like him. Surely you told them.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that is my test. That is why they told me.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Benjamin paced over to the letter of marque, raised it to Munt¡¯s face. ¡°They handed me this at the end of my interrogation. And then they told me about the ambush.¡±


    ¡°What ambush, Benjamin?¡±


    ¡°The one they have lying in wait for John Laurier at the Smith plantation.¡± Vhingfrith was thankful for the rainwater still rushing down from his head, cascading over his cheeks, for his tears could masquerade as nothing more than rainwater. ¡°The Ladyman is walking into a trap. He is outnumbered two to one. And there is nothing I can do about it. Because there is a man that followed me from the Admiralty Office. A minder of sorts, I¡¯m sure. I clocked him almost as soon as I left. They are watching me, seeing where I will go and if I will send a runner.¡±


    Munt seemed pressed to keep up. ¡°But I don¡¯t¡­I cannot see¡­what does this have to do with your letter of marque and why they won¡¯t give you funding for a crew?¡±


    ¡°Raymond Smith was a known pirate. He was on the account, as they like to say. Until recently, when the Republic cut him loose for dishonesty¡ªI know, I know, pirates holding honesty in high regard and all, it¡¯s all a terrific joke. But it¡¯s true, they do govern themselves in a way, and require integrity amongst themselves. And the Republic of Pirates has long intimidated the authorities here in Royal, keeping Raymond Smith safe.¡± Vhingfrith swallowed a lump in his throat. Images of John¡¯s death flitted through his mind and it was all he could do not to run from the room. He gripped the back of a highbacked chair to control his trembling. The thunder outside mirrored the turmoil within him. ¡°But Smith is no longer protected. He is no longer on the account. And so, knowing this, Smith has surrounded himself with personal guards. They live inside his house with him. And Smith¡¯s own farmhands are known to have helped in his illegal enterprises, so the militia sees no harm in their demise.¡±


    Munt¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°My God, Benjamin. Two birds, one stone¡¯s throw.¡±


    ¡°The militia will allow Laurier¡¯s people to slay who they please, then descend on the house and take Laurier and his people prisoner. Woodes Rogers means to drag the Ladyman through Port Royal in his finest dress, and let all see him hanged for killing a plantation owner. Smith¡¯s plantation will go to the government¡ªthey did not say to who, but if I had to guess, it would go to Hamilton, or perhaps to Rogers as a reward for orchestrating all this. And as for Smith¡¯s hundred or so slaves, some of them will be my new crew. My reward for many years of leal service.¡±


    Munt shook his head at the horror. ¡°The bastards. But you have to hand it to him, Rogers has really outdone himself. Benjamin¡ªwhat will you do? I know you and Captain Laurier were¡­close.¡±


    ¡°What can I do? I¡¯m seventy miles away from the Smith plantation with a minder from the Office on my tail and not one loyal fighting man to help me. By now, Munt, it¡¯s already done. John Laurier is either dead or captured, and there isn¡¯t a damn thing anyone can do.¡±

 Chapter 22: The Dead Who Walk as We Do

    Fiddler¡¯s Green ¨C The after-life for all weary sailors, where their cups of grogs always renew themselves, winds are always favourable, food is plentiful, and there is no more strife.


    THOUGH THERE WERE candles in multiple windows, as seen from outside, inside the house it was mostly dark, for both the kitchen and the hallway beyond had no lanterns or candles lit. Tautly alert, Laurier moved inside, and found only one servant, a black woman, in her apron, walking down the hallway with an armful of laundry tucked in a basket. The poor woman came out from the door behind him, and Anne nearly cut her throat before Laurier clamped the servant¡¯s mouth shut and whispered, just in her ear, ¡°Shhh. This will all be over in a moment, madam, I assure you.¡±


    Bonny¡¯s blade bit into the woman¡¯s neck. Laurier saw it by a flicker of lightning. He said to Bonny, ¡°No. Hold her.¡±


    Anne covered the woman¡¯s mouth with her hand and pulled her away from Laurier, who continued on. Flickering light danced at the edges of a hallway up ahead, and he turned down it, and came into a common room where an African woman sat in a wicker chair before a warm, crackling the fire. Her back was to Laurier. The three children were huddled around the fireplace, looking up at her, facing Laurier when he stepped in, muddy and wet-faced. One of the girls gasped. The woman turned, and opened her mouth in a silent scream. Laurier shook his head and she got the message.


    But one of the children, a boy, shouted, ¡°Uncle Charles! Bandits! Uncle¡ª¡±


    Laurier heard a commotion to his right, down another hallway, presumably leading to the bedrooms. He heard someone rifling through a drawer. Doubtless, going for a weapon. Then he heard a door fling open. Laurier drew his pistol and cocked it and pointed at the opening of the hallway. Heard footsteps rushing. A grey-bearded man ran into the room wearing only his chemise, carrying a pistol. He had time to shout, ¡°What the devil¡ª¡± before Laurier pulled the trigger. The resounding boom made the children scream. One of them yelled, ¡°Mattie!¡± and the black woman threw herself on top of the children to defend them. The man was knocked back against a wall, where he crashed into a table holding up two lit candles that spilled onto the floor.


    More footsteps. Multiple men rushing down the hallway. John tossed his pistol and drew another, and fired into the face of the next man to appear, then rushed the other five. Raymond Smith¡¯s grown sons and brothers. Including the one with a big red beard. Josephus, Otis had called him. Look out for him.


    The living room became a brawler¡¯s pit. Anne and the others rushed with him. When they collided, they knew to use their swords, daggers, or bare hands to smack the barrels of the pistols upwards, so that they fired uselessly at the ceiling. Kepler ran his dagger into one of Smith¡¯s sons, twisted the blade awfully, and the blood splashed outwards and upwards, into John¡¯s face, temporarily blinding him as he clashed with Josephus.


    One of the men grabbed Anne¡¯s sword hand, keeping her from using it, then punched her in the tit, knocking the wind out of her.


    Jenkins shot a large man in the arm but it was a glancing blow, and the man roared and came forward like an ox, pushing both him and Tomlinson back.


    One of the children (John didn¡¯t see which) grabbed hold of LaCroix¡¯s pant leg and tried to wrestle him down. Distracted, LaCroix allowed one of Smith¡¯s sons to ram a dagger into his ribs.


    The red-bearded bastard head-butted John in the face, cutting his lip. Sweat and rainwater dribbled down John¡¯s face as he tried to wipe the blood out of his eyes. The whole house roared with deafening gunshots and screams and thunder. Josephus pushed him back against a wall, then grabbed John¡¯s hair and flung him into his friends. The common room became a blood sport. People gripped one another¡¯s wrist, preventing deadly thrusts. The Smith family were all barefoot, and John stomped as many toes as he could to gain advantage. He bit Josephus¡¯s nose and ripped half of it off. Anne was knocked to the ground and Tomlinson tripped over her. Kepler smashed the butt of his pistol into his opponent¡¯s face repeatedly, until the fellow staggered backwards.


    Two more men entered the room, all carrying sabres.


    Laurier hugged his right foot close to Josephus¡¯s own right foot, then performed a shin-press, off-balancing him for a moment, allowing Laurier the opportunity to commit to a wislik, a slippery motion using the pommel of his cutlass to wriggle out of Josephus¡¯s grip. Once free, he used his pommel to smash the bigger man¡¯s nose. Repeatedly. Until there was a satisfying crack and blood ran in waterfalls down his shirt and teeth came flying out. He push-kicked him backward, reached out with his free hand, gripped Josephus¡¯s shirt, and pulled him into his blade. The cutlass¡¯s blade went diagonally through the man¡¯s stomach, the best odds at hitting something vital, but he kept fighting¡ª


    Until Laurier shin-pressed him again, reaped his foot, and used the sword in his gut as a handle to tip him over, and into the two newcomers. Laurier twisted his sword to create a larger opening in Josephus¡¯s gut, making it easier to withdraw, and then launched himself at the sabre men.


    It was a furious flash of steel that sang its one-note song. Laurier had little room. He crashed into his own people, into Smith¡¯s sons and brothers, once or twice tripping over a child that scrambled from the room. He parried and shuffle-stepped around one enemy, making it so that always one of them was between him and another. He push-stepped forward, then sideways, then performed a Fiori Dei Liberi sequence, sword keeping towards centerline while parrying his enemy¡¯s blade away from center. Seeing he had cornered his opponent, he advanced with a shuffle-step, causing him to collide with the man behind him. Bunched up, neither could defend adequately. Laurier performed an inside-deflection riposte, then caught his enemy¡¯s wrist on the next thrust, twisted it so that the blade was cleared, and rammed his own blade through the man¡¯s throat.


    Laurier withdrew, and let the man fall to his knees clutching his gushing neck, and instantly took advantage of the man behind him. Laurier easily parried, back-fisted the man in his face, stunning him for a moment while he snaked his blade around the man¡¯s wrist, then with a flinging motion he sent his enemy¡¯s sword sailing across the room and ran him through.


    A loud explosion like thunder. Something skinned Laurier¡¯s right arm. He spun, and saw a smoking gun aimed at him. Raymond Smith stood framed in a doorway at the end of the hall, his breeches half pulled on, a machete in his other hand. The old bastard charged. It was Bonny who met him first, and stabbed the old man in his gut with an already bloody dagger.


    ¡°Father!¡± one of the children shouted. A girl.


    Raymond Smith shoved Bonny away, but then Kepler moved up behind him and slashed across the old man¡¯s right knee, and LaCroix stabbed him in the back with a dagger. Smith screamed and fell to the floor. One of his sons, a blond boy who looked about twenty, was still alive, but was bleeding on the floor, and crawled over to his father. Jenkins stepped on the young man¡¯s neck to stop him.


    Laurier stood panting. The room was a macabre scene. Bodies lay everywhere, but thankfully none of them were his people. They had caught these men unprepared. If it had been any other way¡­


    Laurier was still panting when he searched the rest of the house, and blood ran down his lips and his right arm. LaCroix had a look at his arm. Luckily the shot had only sliced his flesh. ¡°It will need hot iron and stitches,¡± said the Frenchman.


    Laurier shrugged him off and went back into the common room, where Smith and his last remaining adult son lay on the floor, bleeding. The children were still huddled at the fireplace, but Mattie, the nanny, had allowed the boy to run to his father and hug him. Laurier stood there a moment, studying them all. His people were watching him, waiting to see what he would do. Finally, he said, ¡°Your name is Mattie?¡± The nanny nodded. ¡°Take these children outside. Jenkins, Tomlinson, go with them. Anne, go and tell Akil we¡¯ve secured our end.¡±


    ¡°Noooo!¡± one of the girls shouted. She seemed to know what all this meant, and wept and screamed as she held on to Raymond Smith¡¯s neck for dear life.


    ¡°Mattie¡­take them,¡± Raymond croaked. Bloody spittle foamed at the corners of his mouth. John watched him. He¡¯d always known Raymond to be a cold, heartless sort of man, an ideal business partner, with only the profit in mind. But somewhere in that instinctual space between early paternal pride and end-of-life pondering, it seemed, Raymond Smith had discovered love for something other than himself. It is almost commendable, John mused. ¡°Just bloody take them, Mattie! Get them out of here, girl!¡±


    ¡°Mr. Smith, sir, I am so sorry,¡± Mattie wept as she pulled the children back.


    But the children fought. They fought to stay with their father. The boy rushed at Kepler, who slapped the boy to the ground and held a blade to his throat.


    ¡°No!¡± Raymond shouted. ¡°No, just¡­just let him go! Jonathan, be a good boy now! Be a good boy and look after your sisters! Go! Damn it, listen to your father and bloody go! Mattie¡ª¡±


    ¡°Come on, children,¡± Mattie sobbed, and she cast a baleful eye on John Laurier as she ushered the children outside. Jenkins and Tomlinson went with her. Anne took off out the front door to find Akil and the others.


    While Raymond Smith watched, John Laurier knelt beside one of his dead sons, and tore away a piece of the lad¡¯s chemise. As an afterthought, he closed the boy¡¯s eyes. Then Laurier paced a moment, listening to the storm raging outside, wrapping his arm in cloth to try and stop the bleeding. Laurier¡¯s eyes fell on the last remaining adult son. He did not know the lad¡¯s name. He looked about fifteen. This had been the plan. Kill everyone, but try to leave the children and one of the eldest son¡¯s alive.


    John stood over his old business partner. ¡°Hello, Raymond.¡±


    ¡°Fffffuck you¡­Laurier¡­¡± Raymond Smith hissed.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not have all that. Rather, let¡¯s talk.¡±


    ____


    Anne splashed through puddles, crossing in front of the manmade pond, passing the docks that led out to the shallowest shore of the Rio Grande. She almost became lost in the storm, seeing shapes flit all around her, animals and trees and panicking servants. On her way to the barn, lightning struck, and she came to a halt when she saw a shambling shape up ahead. Certain it was an escaped farmhand, she hunkered down and hid behind a plough. With bent knees, she hurried around to the front, then crept over to a haywain, currently missing its horses. Anne peeked around the side of the wagon. Rain was in her eyes, and so she could not be sure, but she thought she saw the shambling person¡­elongate. His arms, they sort of extended from his body, and his jaw opened in a silent scream and fell off.


    Anne rubbed water from her eyes, certain she was seeing it wrong. Then the figure slipped in mud and fell down a hill, sliding inexorably into the Rio Grande.


    Good riddance, she thought, and crept along. But she froze again when another figure appeared off to her right. And then another. Sabre in one hand, dagger in another, she turned to face them. They were coming her way. Directly at her. Two dark silhouettes, framed momentarily by the flash of blue lightning. Thunder might have tricked her, because she thought she heard gunfire from behind¡ª


    When she turned, she saw another distorted form coming up from the river. Right at her. And more shapes still! All was frenzied and shadowy, shapes moving and mingling, writhing and twisting, strange un-forms of men hewed starkly against a setting of wet swampiness and flashes of light.


    Anne caught the feeling of an animal being surrounded, and turned to run back to the Smith house. And then she froze. Someone was walking towards her. Someone carrying a lantern. Someone familiar. He wore a blue scarf and matching toboggin. His mouth was spewing blood and he gazed at her, holding up his lantern to see her more clearly.


    ¡°Did you put me here?¡± he said. ¡°Why did you put me here?¡±


    Anne¡¯s mouth opened in a silent scream. She knew it to be the first man Captain Laurier had killed upon entering the plantation. But the captain had killed him. Clearly he had. The man was vomiting blood and speaking through the heavy stream. The man moved uncertainly at first, but then with greater confidence, and soon was running.


    And Anne turned and ran from him. Unable to scream, unable to think, she ran. Something grotesque had stepped from childhood nightmares and now it was made flesh. Suddenly Hell was a very real place to her and she feared God¡¯s wrath and the Devil and Abner-fucking-Crane and everything about the darkness.


    As she ran, lightning illumined other sets of eyes. White eyes. Purple eyes. Gazing down curiously from the barn loft. Gazing from inside the puddles she was stepping in. Anne finally screamed.


    Then a hand reached out from the darkness and snatched her elbow. She would have killed Akil, had he not been quick enough and grabbed her wrist. ¡°You see them, too?¡± he said in strained English.


    Anne¡¯s jaw worked up and down. No sound came out.


    ¡°Answer! You see them?¡±


    She nodded. Looking behind him, Anne saw that Dobbs, Roche, and the other Africans were with him, all of them covered in blood and drenched in rain. Dobbs was saying the Lord¡¯s Prayer. ¡°Our Father, who art in Heaven¡­¡± The Africans were muttering something under their breaths. They were all instinctively forming a circle, going back-to-back and looking at their potential enemies. Roche was chuckling.


    Anne looked around at the dark shapes. Hard to tell how many there were. Dozens? The number seemed to change every time lightning struck. And her eyes caught sight of something else. Something in the raging river. Something slithered there, as large as a humpback whale¡ªwhich was impossible because everyone knew whale did not swim rivers, not even those as large as the Rio Grande¡ªand as it swum, a dull red light began to emanate from somewhere in the depths, like a fire had been lit underwater.


    The dark silhouettes were walking towards it. The man with the blue scarf and lantern was at the head, leading them all into the dark, running waters.


    ¡°Come,¡± Akil said, holding up a set of keys. ¡°We free people in the barn. Then we go.¡±


    ____


    John looked down at Raymond. The old man was tall, solid, came from good stock. He had once been the scion of another scion of someone distantly important, but John had long forgotten all those details. Likely Raymond had, too. Their long, sordid history together began as a handsome enterprise between professionals. Raymond had once dabbled in piracy, and made quite a few friends with the boys in Nassau. But the Republic soured on him a bit as he proved a clumsy tactician and an abrasive business partner, always wanting more than his agreed-upon share. It also hadn¡¯t helped that he¡¯d fucked the daughter of a prominent pirate captain, who was to be wed to another captain. Not quite disavowed, Raymond took the money and influence he still had and took over a failing sugarcane plantation on Jamaica and rejuvenated it with copious amounts of slaves and smuggling activity. He still served a purpose to the Republic¡ªhe could find buyers for their ill-gotten treasures.


    Five years ago, John had been among the first to join that enterprise. Raymond Smith had been slowly going into retirement, allowing his slaves, sons, brothers, and hired farmhands to take a greater hand in controlling it all. Smith¡¯s sons, it turned out, were quite savvy accountants, as were many of his slaves. Slaves that could do maths were very expensive, but worth it in the long run. John had to hand it to him, Raymond might have been a world-class cunt, but he had turned this plantation into something worth being proud of. He knew how to get others to do his work for him, while he fucked his slaves and fucked Port Royal¡¯s whores and drank himself into a gout-ridden stupor. He¡¯d even been so wealthy that he could afford to pay the militia to protect his property. Until recently, it seems.


    ¡°What¡­¡± Raymond broke off into a coughing fit, then spat out a gob of blood. ¡°What¡­the bloody fucking hell¡­have you done?! We were friends, Laurier¡ª¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not go that far,¡± John said.


    Raymond looked around at his brothers and sons, and wept. He wept long and hard. ¡°You¡¯ll roast for this! They¡¯ll roast you alive for¡­for¡­¡±


    John let him have this moment of grief. Then he turned his attention to the eldest surviving son. ¡°What¡¯s your name, lad?¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Smith¡¯s son glared daggers up at him. ¡°T-Tobias¡­¡± With a bloody hand, he caressed the blond hair of one of his dead brothers lying next to him.


    ¡°Tobias. I¡¯ve not had the pleasure of meeting you before. You father rarely spoke of his family when he and I were engaged in business.¡± John used the tip of his blade to lift up Tobias¡¯s bloody shirt. ¡°That¡¯s not a grievous wound. You can survive it, if you see to it soon.¡± He looked over at the patriarch of the house. ¡°And we can get you that help. If your father cooperates.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you¡­in Hell¡­¡± Raymond wept. His eyes were closed, his jaw clenched tight. He spoke through gritted teeth and wept up at the ceiling. ¡°I swear by Almighty God, I¡¯ll see you in Hell!¡±


    John tsked. ¡°Raymond, you have one son left. Dear Tobias is still alive. You may yet have a legacy after today. Who knows, perhaps you¡¯ll even live alongside him and fuck your slaves another twenty, maybe even thirty years. In that time, you may even get your revenge. But right now, both your futures are uncertain, because it all hinges on a single question.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you, Ladyman! I¡¯ll see you hanged for¡ª¡±


    John plunged his sword into Tobias¡¯s gut, trying to miss all the major organs, but Tobias didn¡¯t need to know that. He screamed, and John grinned down at Raymond as he twisted the blade. ¡°Do you doubt me, Raymond?! Do you doubt me that I¡¯ll gut this vile puddle that dribbled out of your cock and into some port-whore¡¯s cunt?!¡±


    ¡°Goddamn you, Laurier!¡± Raymond screamed, trying to reach for him, and fell over, his face smacking the wood, and a puddle of comingled blood. ¡°I¡¯ll throttle you with my own fucking hands! I¡¯ll rip our your fucking heart¡ª¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t do it if you¡¯re dead, Raymond!¡±


    ¡°Father¡ª¡± Tobias whimpered.


    ¡°Goddamn you, Laurier¡ª¡±


    ¡°The passphrase!¡±


    ¡°What?! What bloody passphrase, you man-sucking piece of¡ª¡±


    ¡°The passphrase Narv¨¢ez gave you to give to the guards at Porto Bello.¡±


    At this, the room went still. Except for Tobias¡¯s gasps and the storm outside, there was no noise. Even John¡¯s own people gave him a queer stare. They had not expected this part. Indeed, none of them had any notion what he was talking about, and that was by his design. But it was clear Raymond knew exactly what he was talking about. He shook his head, ¡°Wh-what¡­what the fuck could you possibly¡­you came in here and slaughtered my sons and brothers for this?! I¡¯ll eat your fucking heart!¡±


    John twisted the blade again. And again Tobias gripped the blade and screamed and writhed in agony.


    ¡°When I¡¯m done with Tobias, here, I will go outside. My people are still with your other children, Raymond. Look at me. You know me, Raymond. Remember what Arthur Vhingfrith told you! Remember what he said! ¡®You don¡¯t know the Ladyman¡¯s full capacity for cruelty!¡¯ Remember that? He said those words when I was hiding in the pantry! You didn¡¯t know I was there, did you, Raymond?¡± John laughed in the dying man¡¯s face. ¡°You didn¡¯t know I heard about what you two did in Porto Bello! You didn¡¯t know that anyone else knew about Narv¨¢ez, did you? Now, tell me the passphrase to clear the secret cove at Porto Bello, and no more sons or daughters need die tonight!¡±


    Raymond rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, and sobbed uncontrollably. Rage bled away to a cocktail of grief, fear, and madness. ¡°You are¡­as he said¡­my God in heaven¡­you are everything Arthur said you are. Your ambitions¡­are paramount. You have no equal. You have no¡­no fucking equal for cruelty. Does Arthur¡¯s son know what you are?¡±


    Laurier twisted the blade a smidge more. ¡°The passphrase, Raymond. And speak it precisely. No tricks. Or so help me God, I will give word to the Brazilian. Oh, yes, he is outside! Roche will gladly come in here, if I so ask him, and kill everyone you love. He¡¯ll butcher them like pigs, Raymond. You know he will. I can be half a world away, and Roche will still do it for me. If you lie to me, you and your family will never be safe again. Not ever.¡±


    ____


    Akil counted eighty-two of them. Dobbs had the presence of mind to bring a candle and a torch from the servants¡¯ quarters, and Bogoa lit them using a candle someone had left on a table inside the door. And now Akil moved among them, holding up the keys to their bondage. Some of them couldn¡¯t wait to throw up their wrists and shout, ¡°Free us! Free us!¡± Others huddled in the corner, afraid like little kittens. Still others stood stock still, not knowing what to do.


    Akil said, ¡°Bogoa.¡± He took the torch from Bogoa and gave him the keys. While Bogoa unlocked their chains, Akil paced around them. They all stunk. Buckets of their own filth were lined in every corner. He shouted in their native tongue, ¡°I understand many of you are recent captures like me. None of you know me. But I am you. I am of the Hadza people. Some of you may not be from my territory, but ask those in this room who are. I am a war chieftain, a prince of my people, the son of Askia and grandson of Idris. We have boats for those of you that cannot swim down the river. The current will carry us easily to freedom.¡±


    He looked around at their fearful faces. Eighty-two faces. Seventeen women. Five children.


    ¡°You do not have to follow me, nor do you have to follow the white man I came with, a pirate named John Laurier. But we do have a ship. We do have that.¡± Three men, once freed, turned and ran out of the barn, into the storm, never to be seen again. Others looked at the open barn doors, obviously considering doing the same. ¡°Those men can go. So can all of you. But they will be captured. All of you. You will be placed back into the bonds I¡¯ve just removed, and you and your children will never be free! I cannot tarry long. This is your only chance ever. When we leave, you can come with us. That is all. Each man and woman decides for their selves.¡±


    Akil knew this was only partially true. He was not so foolish as to have believed everything John Laurier had said about the world of piracy being one of freedom. He knew Laurier had to say that¡ªthe man might even believe it sometimes, in his yearning to feel like he was as just as any priest or wise man¡ªbut Akil knew that what Captain Laurier really wanted, what he had intended by taking Akil and the others into Port Royal, was to let them all see that they had little choice. That was a clear distinction. The Ladyman needed to make Akil and the Africans not only allies, but eager partners in their own subjugation.


    Better than any slave is one that believes he is accepted as equals by his masters.


    And yet.


    The Ladyman had to keep up certain lies to maintain beneficial relationships with other desperate men, and so had Akil, who led men into battle against the Konuri, and in scouting parties against ravenous lions, and in night raids against the English. Sometimes you told a convenient lie to keep men on steady footing, always to your own ends, but perhaps for their own good, too. As long as their own good did not interfere with your ends, of course. Leadership was difficult that way, and he understood the burden and the danger of trying to be both a good man and an effective leader, of trying to be fair while also making sure things did not swing so unfavourably away from you that you left yourself open to attack. Akil knew he and Captain Laurier would struggle with this, but perhaps not this day.


    Presently, he handed the torch to one of the slaves, a young boy, and said, ¡°We will be at the main house. You have five minutes.¡±


    ¡°I¡­don¡¯t know how long that is,¡± said the boy.


    ¡°A hundred breaths.¡±


    ¡°I cannot count that high, either.¡±


    Akil fumed momentarily. ¡°Be at the house by the time of the third lightning strike. Understand?¡±


    The boy nodded.


    ¡°Good. And hurry. Angry spirits are about tonight, and I do not think they will discern between white men and African. I have that feeling.¡± Akil looked to Bogoa, Roche, Anne, and the other Africans. ¡°Come.¡±


    They had just stepped out of the barn when they noticed they were suddenly running through shin-deep water. Sludgy mud raced up out of the Rio Grande, and a large dark shape arose from the darkness, aspiring towards the dark heavens, pieces of it ripping into the clouds in the sky. Akil stood in grim astonishment, thinking he was surely seeing the great power of Khonsu, a sort of night god he had heard the Egyptian priests talk about when they visited the tribe. A defender of the Moon, protector of the night itself and often heralded by storm.


    ¡°God in heaven,¡± Dobbs wept. ¡°What is it? Anne, what is it?¡±


    The man-woman stammered. ¡°I¡ªI¡ª¡±


    If not Khonsu, then a great demon, whose fury erupted from the river and now water and fish cascaded over them, mud fell from the skies like sick, and reeked of ammonia and sulfur. The muddy downpour covered them for several moments, dousing most of their torches, then abated, and they stood looking up at a dark, writhing shape that blotted out the sky. Rain still fell. Lightning arced overhead, wrapped around the creature like a lasso, and the creature absorbed the light and defused it.


    Then, Akil spotted bodies. All around him, men were walking strangely, some of them in their bedclothes, stained by blood. And he felt his blood run cold. They were coming from the servants¡¯ quarters. Men he had killed only moments ago, they were walking upright, bleeding from their throats and their guts. They moved through the rain, trudging through mud to reach the river.


    Dobbs huddled close to Akil. ¡°What¡ªwhat is it, Akil?¡±


    ¡°Run, boy!¡± he said in English. Then in his tongue, ¡°Run for your lives! All of you, run if you value your souls!¡±


    ____


    Raymond finally tore his eyes away from the ceiling and looked at John. ¡°Un sorbo¡­un sorbo de vino es todo lo que necesito para superar¡­est mal tiempo. That is all.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all? You¡¯re certain that is the passphrase?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all!¡±


    ¡°You swear? Because if I find out otherwise, Roche will¡ª¡±


    ¡°I swear it on the souls of my sons! And may God damn your soul for all eternity, Ladyman! Now, kindly remove your fucking blade from my son¡¯s stomach, or so help¡ª¡±


    ¡°One last thing. The alchemist. Where is he?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Hubert Michaels. The alchemist that once worked with you and Arthur Vhingfrith, the one who made you a certain corrosive liquid. I know he lives in the Colonies, but where exactly?¡±


    ¡°God¡¯s wrath! You don¡¯t ask for much, do you?¡± Smith laughed, and spat up blood.


    ¡°His whereabouts, Smith. I¡¯ll have that.¡±


    Raymond Smith sneered, and John could only imagine the fantasies of revenge he was indulging in. ¡°Massachusetts Bay¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wrong. I lied when I said I had no knowledge of his whereabouts. I know which of the Thirteen he¡¯s in, but I¡¯m not telling you how much I know because I want to guarantee your honesty. Now, tell me where precisely where he is. Get the Colony wrong again and I¡¯ll know you¡¯re lying and that¡¯ll be the end of both of you.¡±


    Smith spat out another red gob. ¡°New Hampshire. Place called Stratham.¡±


    John nodded. The New Hampshire part was accurate to his knowledge. He assumed the Stratham part was, as well. ¡°You had better hope I don¡¯t have to come back.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you gutted, you fucking poof!¡± Smith shouted. ¡°Defenestrated and gutted¡ª¡±


    ¡°Captain?¡± a voice said.


    John turned. Anne stood behind him, ashen-faced and soaking wet. She stood looking somehow¡­vacant. Etiolated and drawn. John noticed, quite quickly, that she was no longer carrying any weapon, her hands were completely empty. ¡°Anne?¡±


    ¡°I should¡¯ve told you.¡±


    ¡°Told me what?¡±


    ¡°First night we were back Royal, I was standing on the deck of the Hazard. I saw that piss-yellow moon, saw it go right over my head and evaporate like smoke. But I also saw something else. I saw Abner, Captain. He was out there and I didn¡¯t want to believe it. But I should have. And I should¡¯ve told you. I told some of the others but I never told you.¡±


    John stood up. He knew this already, the rumour of what Anne saw that night had spread faster than fire. But what was the meaning of this? She looked haunted. ¡°What is it? What¡¯s happened?¡±


    Hurried footsteps came down the hall, from the direction of the kitchen. John prepared himself for more of Raymond¡¯s sons, or perhaps some extra farmhands that slipped past, but instead he saw Akil and the others rushing into the common room, all of them completely drenched and eyes wide. Dobbs and Roche were with him, and Dobbs looked faint.


    ¡°Dobbs? What is it?¡±


    ¡°Have you looked out there?¡± the boy said.


    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t. Speak plainly.¡± He looked at Akil, covered in blood, leaning against a doorframe and muttering inanely in another language. ¡°Won¡¯t someone tell me what the bloody fuck is going on?!¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re out there, Captain,¡± said Anne. ¡°All of them we killed on the way in. Maybe more, I don¡¯t know. They¡¯re all out there. They¡¯re all out there. Fella with the blue scarf¡­thought he looked familiar when I saw him. Was him you killed on the porch, Captain. He¡¯s alive and so are the rest of them.¡±


    Akil nodded. ¡°Captain must believe Anne Bonny. I see them. Men I killed just now. They out there, Captain. They out there and they walking into water.¡±


    ¡°Walking into water?¡± Laurier asked. ¡°What is he talking about, Anne?¡±


    ¡°Come look, Captain. Best you see it yourself.¡±


    ____


    This isn¡¯t happening, Dobbs thought, walking back out into the storm. The clouds above were swirling, and pulsating with an inner yellow light¡ªthey hadn¡¯t been doing that before, he was sure of it. Everything had turned cold. Not just cool, as one would expect from a hard rain. But cold. Amid spectral lights and winds of an infant winter, they all stood in the rain and watched shambling shapes appear all around the plantation. Dobbs huddled close to the captain.


    They came from the barn. They came from the farmhands¡¯ house and the servants¡¯ quarters. They moved just fine, like they had not been murdered only moments ago. Some of them carried lanterns, and waved the others on. A farmhand Dobbs had gutted stood at the edge of the water and guided the dead men into the water. It was like watching a procession into Hell. It was a caravan headed to a party, people waiting in line, waiting their turn to set foot into the water. And the water accepted them, sloshing and swirling almost as tumultuously as the clouds, swallowing them.


    Dobbs felt like he was being judged, here and now, by God Almighty. For this was Hell, wasn¡¯t it? What else could this be?


    ¡°Captain?¡± he said. The Ladyman had stepped out onto the porch with him, sword in hand. ¡°Captain. There.¡± Dobbs pointed to a fellow he had seen killed in the farmhands¡¯ house. ¡°I saw Akil gut him. Split him wide open, he did. That man is¡­he¡¯s walking. They¡¯re all walking.¡±


    ¡°Capitaine!¡± LaCroix shouted.


    They all turned as one, and saw five huddled forms stepping out of the house behind them. Matty and the rest of the children. The children of Raymond Smith looked all right, if a little bloodied, and walked in silent procession. One of them tripped, and the others helped him stay upright.


    ¡°Capitaine! We have to leave soon. Maybe ransom the children to¡ª¡± The Frenchman stopped talking when he saw shambling forms.


    Matty and the children all screamed.


    Dobbs looked away from them. These ghosts¡ªor resurrected men, or whatever they were¡ªthey did not even seem to notice Dobbs and the others. Dobbs felt warmth spread down his legs. He let the piss flow. Why not?


    Dobbs found himself looking around for his father. Is he here? Did we all wind up here? Is this Fiddler¡¯s Green? God in heaven, this isn¡¯t what was promised. This isn¡¯t what Abner said was¡ª


    ¡°This is it, then,¡± said Jenkins, lowering himself to one knee and shaking his head ruefully. ¡°We made it. We made it to Fiddler¡¯s Green. We¡¯re all dead and this is where¡ª¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t fucking Fiddler¡¯s Green, you fucking twat!¡± the Ladyman snarled. ¡°Now get on your feet and do not let yourself be unmanned again! That¡¯s an order, Jenkins! The rest of you, keep your courage! Something unnatural is happening, and I won¡¯t let it be¡ª¡± He froze when he saw a large group of dark men approaching. Dobbs tensed, too, and brought up his bayonet, but froze when he saw it was slaves. A large bunch of them, perhaps all of them, recently liberated and looking oddly around at all the people walking into the churning waters of the Rio Grande.


    Dobbs thought, They only look perplexed. Not horrified. They don¡¯t understand that moments ago all these men were dead. They didn¡¯t see us kill them all.


    The slaves stopped when they saw the children of Raymond Smith. But the slaves failed to do more than acknowledge the children, they simply walked over, as if in a dream, and stared at Akil and the Ladyman. Dobbs wondered why they were staring at the latter. Then it hit him, and he had to laugh. Of all the peculiar sights tonight, they were most stymied by a man in a black dress and with makeup streaking down his wet face.


    ¡°Captain?¡± said Anne Bonny. ¡°What now? Sink me, what now?¡±


    ¡°To the boats. Every last one of you. To the fucking boats now.¡±


    Dobbs was shocked. ¡°You want to go in the water?¡±


    ¡°Get to the boats, Dobbs,¡± the Ladyman repeated. ¡°Anne, Kepler, Akil, everyone. Get to the fucking boats!¡±


    Dobbs took a gander at the captain, and realized he had never once seen such a ghostly pall come over him. Laurier¡¯s painted lips were parted in an unuttered question, and his eyes stared unblinkingly through rain, the lightning turning those eyes briefly into black concaves, and Dobbs shivered, for he sensed the Hellmouth in those pits. He sensed it everywhere now. It suddenly occurred to him they may not have escaped the Hellmouth, after all, but instead brought it with them.


    To the island.


    To all islands. Or else the rumours were true and the Hellmouth was spreading all over the world. God had forsaken them all. Not just pirates, not just Protestants or the bloody Catholics, but the whole world.


    When the sludgy mass first rose from the river, displacing so much water that it rushed inland, almost up to their shins, Dobbs heard the captain screaming at him to get to the boats. But Dobbs gaped in miserable, gut-twisting fear as some black, glistening mass continued to rise from the river, a thing without permanent shape and which seemed to have many mouths that opened in silent, agonizing screams. And clinging to that shape¡ªor perhaps growing out of it¡ªwere many people. Many, many people. So many that the mass appeared to be made of the bodies themselves. The thing continued to rise, twenty or thirty feet in the air, at least. The bodies were naked, writhing things. And moaning. Not screaming.


    A thousand moaning voices as one. And wherever on its body there weren¡¯t bodies, there were festering, pus-ejecting sores, from which fell screaming creatures curled into bloody lumps, that went splashing into the water. Dobbs had once seen a baby cut out of a woman¡¯s belly to save the mother¡¯s life, and by each flash of lightning, these lumps of curled-up meat appeared no different to him than the malformed fetus the doctor had set into a pan.


    The creature rose even higher, on two legs. No, three. Two man-like legs, with a pendulous mass swinging between those legs. But a third leg, deformed and reverse-jointed like a dog¡¯s hind legs, extended from its back and plunged into the Rio Grande. The Behemoth took a slow, lumbering step. The Ladyman was screaming for Dobbs to get to the fucking boat. Anne Bonny had already run in that direction, along with Akil and many of the slaves.


    Then, a fist grabbed hold of Dobbs¡¯s collar and pulled him. ¡°Come on, nipper! We have to get the fuck outta here!¡± It was Jenkins. His long stringy hair whipped around by the wind. ¡°Look alive, Dobbs! Look alive now!¡±


    Dobbs took one step, remembering himself, half thinking he was locked in some nightmare. The last thing he saw before he turned and ran was the gaping midsection of the monster, like a stomach opening wide, and all the men they had killed tonight were climbing inside, splashing around inside its belly. Four or five great tongues spilled out of its belly and helped them up, and welcomed them inside.


    They splashed through water rising up to their knees, flooding the sugarcane fields. The sugarcane slapped Dobbs in his face and at times he became lost. Then Jenkins would reach out and grab his hand and pull him back on course. Two of the freed slaves bumped him as they ran, helter-skelter, going in all directions. Jenkins called to them, ¡°You¡¯re going the wrong bloody way!¡± But no one listened. How could they, when they all felt sanity leaking from them as though from a sieve.


    ¡°Are we¡­in Hell, Jenkins?¡± he panted.


    ¡°Jes keep your fuckin¡¯ feet, Dobbs!¡± Jenkins ordered. ¡°I¡¯ve no explanations for it! Just keep your¡ª¡±


    Dobbs slipped, fell, lost his musket in the rising water, and was hauled back up by Jenkins. They ran on until they came out the other side of the sugarcane field and came to a halt. For Captain Laurier and the others stood in a clearing, utterly surrounded by twenty or more torches flickering in the rain, about thirty men on horseback, all of them wearing red coats. And, steeped in darkness all around, about forty or so men aimed their rifles at them.


    ¡°John Laurier!¡± a voice cried above thunder and rain. ¡°By order of the Governor of Jamaica and the Admiralty Court, as passed down from the island tribunal, you are wanted for crimes of predation: piracy, theft, pillaging, and murder, and will meet God¡¯s judgment! You have been declared hostis humani generis: enemies of all mankind! You have been witnessed on this night committing a crime most heinous! You are hereby ordered to toss aside all weapons and surrender! Surrender yourselves, or we shall open fire!¡±

 Chapter 23: The Behemoth

    orlop ¨C The lowest deck on a ship where cables are stowed.


    ¡°¡ªARE HEREBY ORDERED to toss aside all weapons and surrender! Surrender yourselves, or we shall open fire!¡±


    John heard those words and thought, So this is it. I run no more. He stood ankle deep in the mud, curtains of rain falling on him, obscuring the shapes of the men bearing rifles on him. A row of men at the back held flickering torches. A horse surged out from a nearby copse of trees, and took up formation behind John and his people. Looking around, he saw half the slaves were already dropping to their knees, hands held up high. They would do him no good.


    Thump¡ªthump¡ªthump!


    The ground shook. John felt tremors going from his ankles to his guts.


    Lighting flashed in the sky, but this time, instead of blinking in and out of existence, it momentarily coiled like a serpent made of blue light, spiraling down to the earth for two or three breaths, then spun back up into the sky and vanished.


    John saw it all. The manifestations of the night had caused him no small horror and delirium, to the point he started to shake. Not from laughter or sobbing, but something in between. The redcoats all held their positions, and John had naught but pity for them. Pity for all mankind. So this is all how we all die. We all fall down and our thoughts vanish and we cease to be, and all our constituent parts simply find something else to do. Distantly, he thought of Rothlis, of his firmament talk, of Abner and the Hellmouth, and before that, all the long years of good service, and how he had made Dobbs of all people kill the old man.


    Thump¡ªthump¡ªthump!


    Ripples traveled across the mud all around them. John hardly noticed.


    The redcoats advanced several steps. John and his people tightened into a circle, facing their ensnarers. They were wolves who saw the netting, and the hunters, and the hunters¡¯ dogs, and instinctively they tightened. And tightened.


    Perhaps a fleeting thought crossed his mind, a vague notion that somewhere in the dark rooms of some office in Port Royal, men had gathered in previous weeks to discuss how best to be rid of the pirate scourge. He could see them all there, resting easy in their settees, well-laced boots propped upon fine oak tables imported from England, legs in blue breeches being crossed in front of a comfortable fireplace, goblets of wine passed back and forth as they discussed the dangers of hunting game in Jamaica. Some would have pined for home, for England, for better postings in beautified harbours far from the Caribbean. Along the course, they would have discussed this very moment with relish, the idea of the Ladyman cornered as a rat, his dress flapping in the breeze, women¡¯s underwear pulled over his head as they dragged him up the steps of the courthouse on High Street. What laughter must have consumed them at the thought of throwing a man in the women¡¯s prison of Bridewell, what wheezing they must have done when imagining a man in a skirt hanging by a gallows in front of the Old Church.


    Thump¡ªthump¡ªthump!


    His mind traveled farther back. Back to England and the estate. To his brothers and sisters, some accepting him, most mocking him with severe disdain. He thought back to the summer of his leaving. To his father that discovered him for what he was. To his time in the church monastery, where deviants were sent. To his time existing in the streets, in the rookeries, on the verge of selling himself. To his friendship with Ellis who led him to the press-gangs. To his fateful meeting with Arthur Vhingfrith here in the islands, and the enterprise that brought him here.


    To die by a firing squad. Or by a rope in front of a cheering mob.


    John quivered with rage. He knew this was Woodes Rogers¡¯s work. And he knew Benjamin was friends with Rogers. But into his mind it would not enter that Benjamin had betrayed him in any way. Not like this, not to this severity.


    John started to take a step forward. His final step. When they did not shoot him, he took another.


    A large man atop a horse cried out, ¡°Halt there!¡±


    John took another step.


    Then, one of the freed slaves turned and ran, and two shots rang out. The freed man twitched once, then splashed facedown into the mud and writhed a moment before going still. The Africans that had not been kneeling, now knelt. All except for Akil and his men.


    ¡°That was your last warning!¡± the large man on the horse bellowed.


    ¡°Do you not fuckin¡¯ see what is happening?!¡± That was Jenkins. John looked behind him, and saw his spotter, who had given him two good years of service in the crow¡¯s nest, staggering forward in the rising river water, his stringy black hair plastered to his face, shouting against the rain. ¡°Do they only train blind men and whoresons to be redcoats! D¡¯ye not fuckin¡¯ see what¡¯s plainly¡ª?!¡±


    ¡°Mr. Jenkins!¡± the Ladyman called out.


    Jenkins looked at his captain.


    Thump¡ªthump¡ªTHUMP!


    No more, the Ladyman thought. Let not one more to die for me. Not one more. ¡°Let it be, Mr. Jenkins. Just let it be.¡± The thought was borne by a momentary pang of guilt. It had been his deviancy that had his father send him away, and his deviancy that led him from the monastery and into the streets with his friend Ellis, and then onto the sea and into the Caribbean. It all just suddenly hit him, like a bolt out of the blue. Abner Crane, Rothlis, Cedar the surgeon, all the nameless others. ¡°Just let it be,¡± he said again. John Laurier tossed down his cutlass. ¡°Just let it be.¡± The words were aimed inward, and he knew he spoke them to allay his own fears. He had run all this way, to the other side of the world, and had sought some small granule of respectability by first becoming privateer, then pirate. And for what? How many had died? And for what? For what?


    Treasure? It made him laugh. Glory? Love?


    Anne Bonny took two steps forward, her cutlass raised.


    ¡°Anne!¡± John shouted at her. ¡°Let it be.¡±


    Bonny stopped and stared back at him. Both her anger at her captain, her fear of the hangman, and her horror at all she had seen tonight wrestled for supremacy on her features.


    Thump¡ªthump¡­


    ¡°All of you, on your knees!¡± shouted the large man on the horse.


    ¡°Captain, sir?¡± said young Dobbs to his left.


    John could not bear to look at the boy. ¡°Let it be, Mr. Dobbs. Mr. LaCroix, Mr. Kepler, let it be. Mr. Akil¡ª¡±


    A sword went hissing past John¡¯s head, powerfully thrown by the large black man that now followed through on his throw. The cutlass had been thrown like a spear, and had no business being used like that¡ªand yet it flew through the night at a speed most unbelievable, and the blade either embedded or glanced the throat of the large man on his horse, but it was hard to tell because he spun out of his saddle and landed in the mud.


    ¡°No¡ª¡± was all John got out before the redcoats opened fire. And in that half a heartbeat, he changed his mind about all of it. About all of them. When the first bullet tore through Jenkins and Tomlinson, John dived to the ground and slid in the mud and his hand somehow found his cutlass and he half slithered, half climbed back to his feet as the night erupted in gunfire. Giant plumes of smoke filled the clearing all at once, and John saw dozens of freed slaves bolt in every direction, some of them twitching from a lead ball tearing into them.


    The first redcoats to fire pulled back and the second rank came forward, their muskets already pre-loaded, and they aimed and fired.


    Almost none of them hit their targets, because a dark hand reached out from the night, fingers as large and as crooked as tree branches, with sheets of red flesh dangling like moss from every inch. And there were many, many fingers. Each one plucked a redcoat off the ground, and some slaves and pirates, too. Plucked them like choice grapes from a bowl and lifted them up into the night sky. When the next coil of lightning bore down from the sky, John saw the Behemoth, the many-fleshes-as-one, stepping through the trees¡ª


    THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!


    ¡ªas its midsection opened and swallowed the plucked men. The lightning gave him a glimpse of the naked souls writhing on its crusty exterior, some of them dangling from its pendulous manhood, as large as the roots of an oak. Its reverse-jointed third leg dug into the mud and propelled the Behemoth forward like a drunken sow.


    John gave no more second guesses about his life before, or his destiny hereafter. He now lived moment to moment. He seized the opportunity, and ran for a riderless horse that was mule-kicked and splashing in panic. The redcoats bearing the torches dropped them all ran. Some of them were brave enough to stand and fight, and fired uselessly at the giant creature. The Behemoth leaned down at them. Eyeless, it still somehow found them, and plucked more of them off their feet.


    Purple eyes. Dozens of sets of purple eyes glowed from the swaying sugarcane, and in the water, and down in the puddles at his feet. Purple eyes lit up the night, but John could not make out the shapes of their owners¡ª


    Redcoats still tried surrounding the Ladyman. Two of them advanced on John, one using the bayonet of his musket, the other lashing out at him with a sabre. The first man slipped in the mud, off-balancing himself, and thrust with the bayonet, which Laurier batted first with the palm of his hand, receiving a slight cut across it. He performed an outside-deflection check, head-butted his enemy, and slashed at his throat before performing a quarter-turnstep and parrying the first thrust of the second enemy. The sabre was easily parried once, twice, and then the Ladyman slid his blade cleanly down the length of his enemy¡¯s blade, in gissard fashion, riding the blade until he slashed his enemy¡¯s wrist and disarmed him and kicked him into the mud.


    More redcoats fired at the Behemoth, at the pirates, at the slaves, at anything, while John mounted his horse and waved his cutlass in the air and boomed, ¡°To me! To me! To the boats! Follow me to the boats you fucking scallywags!¡±


    ¡°A-hoo!¡± shouted a handful of pirates, and ran after him.


    John saw everything happening in momentary glimpses of lightning flashes. Dobbs helping Jenkins up. Tomlinson lying facedown in the mud, bleeding, not moving. It was over for him. Akil and Bogoa ran alongside a dozen slaves, gesticulating towards the trees in the south. Anne Bonny and Isaacson together pulled an officer off his horse, and both leapt into the saddle with Anne driving. Someone fired at Isaacson and a bullet ripped through his arm. Kepler jumped on another horse, was plucked out of the saddle by a huge fleshy finger, and vanished into the belly-mouth of the Behemoth. LaCroix ran through the ever rising river water, occasionally pushing away a redcoat that grabbed at him. One redcoat grabbed him around the throat and started to drag him down into the muddy water, until Roche came up behind and cleaved the redcoat¡¯s head with his axe. One of the Behemoth¡¯s fingers tried to pluck Roche, but the Brazilian ducked and rolled out of the way, then sprang up alongside the Frenchman and together they ran through the water, into darkness.


    John followed them. He rode hard, looking behind only once, seeing another bolt of lightning that came down from the sky and struck the Behemoth¡¯s head, catching it momentarily on fire before it was quickly doused.


    ____


    Anne found the Frenchman and the Brazilian somewhere in the dark. They were in the thick of the jungle, the river rising, and a wave overtook her horse and she and Isaacson fell into the water. She swam in darkness, swallowing filthy water, choking on it. While under, she was sure she saw a set of purple eyes dancing around her. She screamed and swam for the surface, coming up for air, looking for the horse. The water receded back into the Rio Grande. And then another knee-high wave took her feet, and she went swirling through mud, her head beneath water until a strong hand grabbed a wad of her hair and yanked her back up. ¡°Come along, mademoiselle!¡± LaCroix cried. ¡°Just a little more! Just up ahead! Just a little more!¡±


    ¡°LaCroix¡ªthere¡¯s something down there,¡± she shouted, coughing up water.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care! Keep moving!¡±


    The water surged and receded. Surged and receded. Every time it did either, it nearly knocked them over.


    Anne saw the Ladyman ahorse and riding fast, splashing through the jungle, which seemed to be sinking at times. And then the water would recede again, and like a strong tide, it felt like it was pulling them in. Pulling them into the river. Anne saw things slithering around out there. She also saw logs, downed trees, bobbing in the muddy water. The rain came down harder, if that could be believed, and all the water was a wet slurry. LaCroix pulled her by her shirt, slammed her against a tree whenever the next wave came, and together, they and the Brazilian hugged the tree until the water receded again. Then they ran.


    The boats, unsurprisingly, were not where they left them. The boats were in the jungle, amid the trees, tossed there by the surging Rio Grande. The Ladyman pulled his horse to a stop, and ordered his men to convene on him. Akil and a few others were close by, and together they lifted the boats and pulled them deeper into the jungle, away from the river. Anne ran over to join. Just then, by brief lightning, she spied five or six redcoats running towards her.


    ¡°LaCroix! Roche!¡± she screamed, and drew her dagger¡ªfor she had dropped all her other weapons¡ªand ran headlong into the enemy.


    They clashed in knee-deep water, wet limbs grasping at wet flesh, pressing and pushing one another while some type of strange eels slithered between their feet. Anne jabbed her blade into a redcoat¡¯s eye socket and twisted the blade. He screamed above the booming thunder as another redcoat tackled her. She went momentarily under the water, and then by luck the wave rolled them over and she was now on top, he underneath the water, and Anne wrapped her ankles around his knees so that he could not wriggle free or rise. Whenever he tried to come up for air, she pushed his head back beneath the water and punched him in his side. A trick Jack taught her ages ago, making a man gasp underwater, making him blow out air and suck in water. She did it repeatedly while LaCroix and Roche struggled somewhere behind her.


    When her enemy finally spasmed and went still, Anne leapt off his body and searched for a tree branch, a rock, anything to hit with. She found a jagged stone and lunged at the redcoat strangling LaCroix and cracked his skull. Stunned, the redcoat went sideways, tried defending against both of them as they beat and bludgeoned him. Roche was laughing somewhere, using his axe to remove a man¡¯s head. Then another redcoat emerged and punched Anne across her face. She heard her jaw crack. She fell against a log and saw him coming for her, when suddenly young Dobbs came out of nowhere and gutted the man with his bayonet.


    Six dead bodies lay all around them. Gasping, holding her jaw, Anne turned away from the corpses, letting the next surging waves take them into the Rio Grande. She imagined they, too, would resurrect soon, like the bodies had done at the Smith plantation. She did not want to be around to see it.


    Anne was just limping away¡ªapparently she had twisted her ankle somehow, and didn¡¯t even remember it¡ªwhen she heard the familiar sound of someone retching. Turning, she saw the man she thought she had drowned, emerging from the water, vomiting out the muddy water and gasping and looking around wildly. She just realized he had been a large man, and how lucky she had been to¡ª


    Wait a moment¡­


    Dobbs was just clutching his musket and aiming his bayonet at the man before Anne grabbed the nipper by his collar and tugged him backward. ¡°Wait! Just wait! That¡¯s the officer!¡±


    ¡°The what¡ª¡±


    ¡°The bloody fucking leftenant! Or captain! Or whatever the bloody fuck they call themselves.¡± Anne looked around at one of the dead redcoats, and lifted his sabre and walked over to the officer and pierced his right thigh. The man screamed and fell to the ground, splashing in the receding water. ¡°Stay right there, you fucking cunt! Just you stay there!¡± Blade tip to his throat, she eyed him. ¡°Fetch LaCroix, Dobbs. We¡¯re taking this one back.¡± She leered down at him. ¡°See how he likes standing a pirate¡¯s trial.¡±


    The nipper ran over to grab the Frenchman. While they were trying to prise Roche away from his work on the next dead redcoat, the officer at Anne¡¯s feet stared up at her, sneering savagely. ¡°You¡¯ll¡­all¡­hang¡­for this,¡± he panted.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna roast your balls and feed them to your children, you say one more word.¡±


    That shut him up for the moment.


    LaCroix came over and aimed a sabre down at the officer, and instructed him to rise. Together, they limped behind their prisoner, guiding him over to the boats.


    Dobbs¡¯s face was covered in blood. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding,¡± Anne croaked, and grabbed his hand like a mother guiding a child. LaCroix pushed the officer on. He shouted back at Roche to come along, but the Brazilian was still collecting heads from corpses. They left him there.


    Bogoa arrived with more slaves, twenty or thirty, all confused, some of them weeping. There were a few women among them, Anne noticed, at least one of them was holding a baby.


    This is our new bloody pirate crew?


    Lightning swirled in the sky, spiraling down towards the earth, just as before. And, just as before, it slithered back up into the churning clouds and winked out.


    The Ladyman was directing them all to carry the boats farther downriver, hopefully away from the tumult of the creature, which he was now calling the ¡°Behemoth.¡± ¡°Perhaps the waters will not be influenced by the Behemoth¡¯s displacement on down. Let us hope there are not more like him across the island. We can¡ªavast there! Anne? What the ruddy fuck is this?¡± Captain Laurier aimed his cutlass at the officer.


    ¡°He¡¯s their leader,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t know his name. Didn¡¯t catch it, as I was too busy drowning the cunt. Figured we¡¯d take him back.¡±


    ¡°And do what with him?¡±


    Anne glared at the Ladyman. ¡°Stick him in the fucking orlap for all I care! A hostage is a fucking hostage! Or have you forgotten how we do this?¡±


    The Ladyman stood there, accepting all their judgments. They had all seen it, the defeat in him, the moment when he gave up and threw down his sword and surrendered to the redcoats. It was something they weren¡¯t used to, seeing the Ladyman defeated. Seeing him despondent at all, really, Anne thought. She knew that men only respected strength and decisive action, and the Ladyman¡¯s reputation had been a granite statue, now chipped a little, following the events of the last few moments.


    At last, Laurier nodded and said, ¡°Superb thinking, Anne. Superb. Bring him along.¡± He wiped mud from his face. ¡°What is your name, Officer?¡±


    ¡°Captain Belmont,¡± the big man croaked. He looked so much less regal and authoritative now, with his redcoat turned filthy brown, his hair flattened, his posture bent. Each flash of lightning revealed a ghost of a man, fearful and hateful of everyone around him.


    ¡°Captain Belmont, you ordered me to surrender moments ago. Your men shot and killed some of mine. Consider yourself lucky to have found yourself at the mercy of Anne Bonny, and not at the axe of the Brazilian.¡± Laurier glanced back at Akil and the Africans. ¡°Are we ready?¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain. We ready.¡±


    ¡°Then you and your men take the lead. Anne, you and Dobbs watch our rear. LaCroix, I want you to go and fetch the¡ª¡±


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°I know, Capitaine,¡± said the Frenchman, who bounded forward through the jungle, on some errand that Laurier never needed to utter. Anne that was strange but said nothing.


    ¡°Captain?¡± someone said. Anne looked around and saw that it was Isaacson, the bald bastard emerged from the woods, trudging through ankle-deep water. ¡°It took Kepler, Captain. It took him straight up¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know, Mr. Isaacson,¡± the Ladyman said. ¡°I know. I saw it.¡±


    ¡°What is it, Captain?¡± asked Jenkins, limping over to a tree, clutching his leg to try and stop the bleeding. Dobbs rushed over to see about him. ¡°What the bloody fuckin¡¯ hell is that¡­Behemoth, ye call¡¯d it? Is that somethin¡¯ from the firmament?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what it was.¡±


    ¡°Never read anything like that in Scripture¡ª¡±


    ¡°Have you ever seen anything like it before?¡± said Isaacson. ¡°Have you ever heard tell of it in any of your books? The Good Book or any other writings?¡±


    The Ladyman pushed a blond lock of hair out of his face. Anne thought he had just regained some of his regalness. ¡°It is not in any of my books because there are no books that hold such a tale, or I¡¯m sure I would¡¯ve heard of it. Because this isn¡¯t from the Good Book or anything else of the Universe we know. They are not of any old stories because we have stepped into their story. A new story. These creatures are of the firmament, a world outside our own, perhaps someplace leftover after God¡¯s first attempts at Creation.¡±


    Isaacson wiped mud off his face. ¡°What, like God¡¯s own leavings? Like the undesirables the bloody fucking butcher cuts away from the better morsels?¡±


    Anne said, ¡°More like some pus-filled ulcer the sawbones cuts off and tosses in the bucket. Only these ulcers come crawling outta the bucket.¡±


    Jenkins muttered, ¡°Like Lilith?¡±


    Anne looked at him. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°After God made Adam, he made Lilith. Only somethin¡¯ wasn¡¯t right with her, so God tossed her aside and made Eve instead.¡±


    ¡°I never heard that,¡± said Dobbs.


    The Ladyman waved a hand. ¡°It is a thing beyond all our comprehensions, nevertheless. That is all we may speculate. What use is this talk?¡± He looked at them resolutely. ¡°Now, I said get the boats up and I bloody well meant it. Let¡¯s go, maties! Yo-ho!¡±


    ¡°Yo-ho!¡± they answered, and got to work.


    While all the men handled the boats, Anne took a moment to cut her hand with her cutlass¡¯s blade when they weren¡¯t looking, then smeared blood on her bared breast. For luck.


    ____


    The veneer of order that usually got most people by when all things had been thrown into chaos was, Remy LaCroix thought, so brittle as to be insubstantial. Add a dose of chaos and fear, then, to anything, and touch it with a feather, and watch that veneer part like thin cobwebs. That was what his time spent with his old mentor Bennett had taught him. He had managed Bennett¡¯s account-books for ages, which included business dealings with men and women with legitimate businesses, and yet they dealt with pirates. Because pirates did not have to share their treasures with the Crown, wealthy people might sometimes fund a pirate crew on a particular venture. LaCroix had seen high lords and good ladies lie to their families, to their lovers, to the militiamen, even under interrogation, even with the threat of death hanging above their hands, all so that they could keep hidden ill-gotten gains that had been squirreled away on some island.


    It happened enough that at some point Remy LaCroix ceased being amazed at any peeling back of that veneer of order, to the point that even now, having stood transfixed and horrified by a monster stepped from Satan¡¯s nightmares, he already found himself adapting to it.


    Of course, the Behemoth exists. How could it not? All things are a veneer? All the world, all the oceans, all the skies, they are but a thin skein between this world and whichever one we visit in our dreams.


    This produced a strange calm in him, one that steadied his thoughts and allowed him to get his bearings in the dark jungle long enough to find where he had hidden the cache.


    Upon entering the jungle from the Rio Grande, the Ladyman had ordered LaCroix to take his two boxes of grenadoes and haul them on land. Then, because they would be too heavy to haul all the way to the Smith plantation, along with the boats, the Ladyman had LaCroix place the two boxes by a Mayaguana tree, and set a few rocks and leaves over them. The grenadoes were only in case the rumours the Ladyman had heard were wrong, if Smith had in fact had a cadre of militiamen or Republic pirates guarding the plantation. The grenadoes would have killed clusters, while also providing shock and distraction.


    But now they might just serve another purpose.


    LaCroix was only to happy to serve the captain. Thinking back to moments ago, he thought Bonny had been too harsh on him. Laurier had just faced what they all had. The Behemoth was unlike any creature even described in Scripture, LaCroix was sure. And they had been outnumbered. Bonny could not understand, but LaCroix believed he did. The world was shattered, utterly ruined by disruption of the firmament or whatever. What was treasure and glory now, in the face of such cosmic horror?


    And what will grenadoes do to it, if anything? he pondered, stacking the two boxes and hefting them over one shoulder. It seemed absurd. Enough so that he even laughed. But what does one do when one realizes they are inside a dream? One keeps going, until the dream finally ends.


    ____


    The water was better a mile down. Akil could almost smell the sea. He scouted ahead, found where an outcropping would allow them to seek high ground and run around the murky water. He lifted his sabre and nearly cut down the Frenchman when he appeared suddenly from a game trail up ahead, and ran past, delivering two boxes to Captain Laurier. Akil noticed the Frenchman was missing a shoe, and his bare foot was bleeding. They were all bleeding or battered in some way. The captain¡¯s right arm was wrapped, but the cloth was soaked through, and his face was haggard.


    And we are down a helmsman, Akil thought. By the time we reach the Hazard, the ship may be without a working crew. He suddenly realized how badly he needed the Ladyman, for neither he nor Bogoa nor any of the Africans knew the first thing about sailing.


    But that fear could wait. As Akil finally found them a path down to a workable shoreline, he spoke to the freed slaves. A woman clutched a wailing babe in her hands, shushing it to no avail. When she saw they were all about to get into the boats and get out onto the water, she backed away hastily. ¡°What is your name?¡± Akil asked her.


    She was much shorter than Akil, and looked up with round, angry eyes. ¡°Noala.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s the baby¡¯s name?¡±


    ¡°His name is Yame.¡±


    Akil touched the boy¡¯s head. ¡°Yame, you are in the presence of Akil, prince of the Hadza. You are a fierce warrior, I can tell it is in your blood, because your mother is so brave and your scream is so powerful. I can see it in both of you.¡± He looked at her. ¡°Your child has my protection. All of you do.¡±


    She gazed up at him, suspicious and hopeful. ¡°I cannot swim. None of us can.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have time. These boats are well made.¡±


    ¡°That thing! That huge monster¡­it lives in the water!¡±


    Akil looked up the river, towards the plantation whence they came, and imagined the Behemoth there. He flicked his gaze left and right at the two shorelines, then looked north down the river, towards their escape. An event of vanishingly small probability, he surmised, but Akil could not abandon hope as he had seen the Ladyman do. Akil touched Noala¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Bless you, mother, you are protected by Oba, she who makes the river and controls its water.¡±


    Noala looked at the boats with trepidation. Captain Laurier and his men were already piling in, and Bogoa was ushering in the rest of the freed men. She shook her head. ¡°I cannot¡­Yame cannot¡­¡±


    ¡°I told you, Oba blesses you.¡±


    Noala looked at him. ¡°Does she not bless you?¡±


    ¡°No. I am of Ogun¡¯s blood. He guides my spear and shield. Both are in service to you and these freed people, sweet mother. I give you my word, Ogun will protect me, and I and Oba will protect you.¡± He took her hand. Noala recoiled. Then she looked back at the jungle, lit up by another bolt of swirling, unnatural lightning. Black waters or black jungle¡ªthose were her choices. Only one of them provided her with the allies she needed to survive. She got on the boat with Akil, who waded waist-deep into the water to shove it clear of the flooded shoreline, then climbed in with the others, who helped him up.


    Bogoa patted him on the back and said, ¡°Brave man, Akil. You truly are a prince of¡ª¡± A black limb reached up from the depths and grabbed Bogoa by his face and pulled him into the water. Akil reached for his hand, but missed.


    Noala screamed.


    Bogoa resurfaced from the water, half his face missing, with multiple blackened arms pulling at his neck, his arms, and shredding his clothes. Akil reached for him, grabbed his bloody hand, and Bogoa screamed in fear and agony.


    Above it all, Akil saw the Ladyman leap from his boat onto Akil¡¯s. The man¡¯s dress whipped around him in a savage wind, and he screamed, ¡°LaCroix! Hand me one! Lively now, you French cocksucker!¡± The boat swayed heavily in the waves but the Ladyman remained impossibly poised as a spherical ceramic flask went arching through the night, slung by the Frenchman in a separate boat. Laurier snatched it out of the air, just as sparks leapt from it. In the perfect darkness, amid lightning and torrential rain, the Ladyman looked like a god holding sparking fire as he reached down with one hand and grabbed the waistband of Bogoa¡¯s pants and helped Akil haul him in. With his other hand, the Ladyman threw the ceramic sphere into the water and then threw himself onto the boat floor, a second before the explosion went off.


    The limbs that had been grasping for Bogoa now retreated into the water like frightened fish.


    A moment later, the whole river reacted by glowing with deep, brilliant blue light.


    ____


    The thundering boom of the grenado¡¯s explosion rocked the boat side to side, and a geyser of water shot up over them, drenching them. And instantly the blue light rose from underneath them, and John looked around at the Rio Grande, turning night into day in a reversal of blue sunlight coming from the water. It was as if they sailed on the sky.


    ¡°LaCroix?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t supposed to happen! This isn¡¯t the grenado doing it!¡± the Frenchman called back.


    Dobbs cried out, ¡°Captain, look! In the water!¡±


    John peeked over the side. They all did. He saw long, eel-like shapes, and along their sinewy, slithering bodies, he saw four arms protruding. Some of them had six. Somewhere, Bogoa was howling in pain, clutching at his ruined face. John barely acknowledged it, so mesmerized was he by the black shapes, coiling and uncoiling around a rising blue light. Like an ingot the colour of a Spanish bluebell flower. It even had offshoots like petals. Gargantuan petals. Impossibly large, for each one looked big enough to support a dozen galleons or more, and yet he knew the Rio Grande was not that deep.


    ¡°Captain¡ª¡± Akil said.


    ¡°To your oars, boys!¡± John shouted. ¡°To your fucking oars! Now! Row as one! Row for your bloody lives! It¡¯s coming up from below!¡±


    ¡°What is, Capitaine?¡±


    ¡°Just row, you cunts!¡±


    ____


    They rowed until well past midnight, when the clouds suddenly stopped churning, and the lightning etched jagged lines across them, and did not go away. The lightning remained suspended, not vanishing as lightning ought, but instead underlit the clouds which now looked to harden, creating a ceiling of stone above the entire world. The whole time, the river glowed, and single filaments of an enormous petal rose from the water a mile or two behind them, before slowly dipping back into the water.


    Things reached from the boats, and pulled down two more of the freed slaves. Isaacson was clawed across his chest by six razor-sharp fingers, and was bleeding and screaming under the ghostly yellow light coming down from the sky.


    When they happened to come close to the eastern shore, one of the Africans leapt into the water and tried to swim for the shore. But something pulled him under, and no one ever saw him again.


    They rowed on.


    The clouds began to move again, and the lightning finally dimmed, and dimmed, and dimmed. Until at last it dispersed as it ought. The clouds parted quickly, revealing familiar stars and a gibbous moon. Men pointed at things flying overhead, elongated creatures, eel-like, with squamous wings and stygian-black pits for eyes. They were enormous, half the size of the Hazard, easily. As they rowed, they saw one swoop down with huge talons and pluck a man and his son off the shoreline, lifting them into the air. Another such creature stretched out its talons and grabbed the lower half of the man. The two creatures briefly fought, and in their battle they tore the man apart and both flew off in opposite directions.


    ¡°My God,¡± Dobbs breathed. ¡°What is happening? Abner, are you listening? What¡¯s out there? Did you bring this on us? Is this your retribution?¡±


    They rowed until after dark, when dawn at last lifted its head and brought red-gold light into the world. Hazard was waiting a hundred yards out to sea. Captain Laurier shouted to Okoa, who had been entrusted to watch Hazard while they were away, along with a handful of trustworthy sailors and gunners. Okoa ordered the men to throw down the rope ladders and haul everyone aboard, and he tried rapidly to catch up, as Dobbs told their story.


    ¡°We saw none of this monster, Captain,¡± Okoa said, hopping over on his crutches. ¡°Not from here. But the storm and the clouds, we saw plenty strangeness. Lightning behaving like I never saw before¡ª¡±


    ¡°To the capstan bars!¡± the Ladyman shouted, pushing right past him. His corset was untied, his bare chest wet and showing his crisscrossing tattoos. His right arm was wrapped in a bloodstained cloth. He was in no mood to talk. ¡°Stand by to weigh anchor! Boatswain¡¯s party, ready to let fly! To the gunnels, grab some lines! Okoa, how does she sit?¡±


    ¡°Water be awfully choppy, sir,¡± said Okoa, following him up the stairs to the quarterdeck. ¡°And the wind changed suddenly. We soon to be in irons.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take over at steering. ¡¯Vast, Jenkins! Let that prisoner plop to the deck! He¡¯s not going anywhere! Get you to the crow¡¯s nest!¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain!¡±


    ¡°Captain?¡± said Okoa. ¡°Where is Kepler? And Tomlinson? And who is this redcoat¡ª¡±


    ¡°We lost some brothers, Mr. Okoa. And the redcoat is Captain Belmont of the Militia, thank you for reminding me of his presence.¡± Laurier walked over to the prisoner and cracked him across the jaw with a fist, then grabbed him by his throat. ¡°Was it Rogers? Tell me! Was it Woodes Rogers who ordered this?¡±


    The militiaman croaked, ¡°Who else?¡±


    Laurier sneered. ¡°Someone get him down to the bloody orlop. Make sure Anne goes with him, too. Lock the bastard inside and keep a guard on the door. Dobbs! Why aren¡¯t you up that mizzen, you fucking nipper¡ª¡±


    ¡°Going, sir!¡±


    ¡°Akil, is that man going to live?¡± the Ladyman shouted down to the main deck. He pointed to Bogoa, the man they were pulling up over the starboard rail just now, half his face missing or hanging off. He looked delirious from blood loss. The Africans were trying to find a place to lay him on the cluttered deck. Meanwhile, the woman with the wailing child stumbled around, frantically looking for somewhere to go.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Captain!¡± Akil called back. ¡°Bogoa lose much blood! Do we¡ªeh¡ª?¡± He said some words in the African tongue.


    Okoa translated, ¡°He ask if we have surgeon on board?¡±


    ¡°Not anymore. We lost Cedar during the fourteen-day darkness. Get him to the galley and lay him on a table. Isaacson, too, his chest is split nearly wide open. Cedar¡¯s old things are still in the fo¡¯c¡¯s¡¯le, he should have some poultices and reagents to apply to the injured.¡±


    Akil¡¯s mouth tried to make the words. ¡°Pul¡­poult-ice¡­?¡±


    ¡°Goddamn it, Okoa! Translate it for me, I¡¯ve got a boat to steer and hardly a crew to bend a sail!¡± Laurier threw the wheel hard a-larboard. ¡°Jaime, help Masters with the line! Tell me what the seabed is like underneath us!¡± Because, he wanted to add, if what we saw on the island is any indication, the ocean floors may be an alien world now.


    He remembered the long night. He remembered what Ben said about the two moons, and the things he saw flying around them.


    ¡°Aye, Cap¡¯n!¡± the Scotsman called, and he and Masters grabbed up the knotted lines and threw them over the starboard and port rails. Jaime reeled his in first, looking at the contents of the cup. ¡°Six fathoms, Cap¡¯n! Shale and loose sand!¡± Jaime cried from starboard. Masters confirmed the same from port. But Laurier did not trust it, and told them to check again. Traumatized more than he dared admit, he sensed evil all around them. True evil. Something beyond the firmament.


    Okoa had been right about the wind. They could not sail south around the island to Port Royal, else they would be in irons. The speediest way was going to be to tack northwest, come round the Old Horn and let the ocean current carry them sou¡¯sou¡¯east. He felt Kepler¡¯s ghost next to him. Damn, but he needed the loyal old bastard. The world had turned upside-down, and John could only guess it was going to get worse. Because even as the sun rose fast behind them, he imagined he saw large, black, reflective humps appearing out of the water in the northeast. No whales that large or that black in the Caribbean. No whales like that anywhere.


    Soon, a brittle network of white threads appeared in the air all around them. Every man and woman aboard noticed it. It was like a universe of cobwebs suddenly materializing¡ªat first like a fog, something they merely passed through. And then the cobwebs broke as each person, mesmerized, reached up to touch it. The cobwebs went up and down the length of the ship, covering every surface. The cobwebs felt like feather fronds and crackled and broke at the merest touch.


    ¡°What is this curtain?¡± said Okoa, coming up from below.


    John ran his fingers through the air, through the brittle cobweb-like things, watching them dissolve at his touch. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said. But he did know. In the marrow of his bones, he knew.


    They were passing through the firmament now. The whole world was passing through it.


    ¡°Captain, do we really go back to Port Royal? Now? Surely all the redcoats be waiting for us there.¡±


    John had to think a moment. Yes, of course, Okoa was right. It had been paramount in his mind before, but it had slipped his mind¡ªby returning to Port Royal, he was flying directly into the net of those that had sent the militia to arrest him. It was Rogers. But did Ben have anything to do with¡ª?


    No, it would not enter into his mind.


    Still.


    Did he sail for Royal?


    Did he take that risk?


    What about Ben? Might he need John¡¯s help?


    But what help could John offer if all of Royal was against him?


    Was all of Royal against him?


    Thoughts like gnats swirled around his head, and when he looked at the inability of his new crew, observed his utter lack of a satisfactory replacement for Kepler, and estimated their odds against the King¡¯s Militia, John Laurier made a calculation. He gave the wheel a quarter-turn to starboard.


    ____


    The dark cloud dropped down from the sky, and touched the sea around Lime Cay, where ships usually let out their mainsail to first gain speed when leaving Port Royal. The cloud came on suddenly, and swarmed around Bull Bay, then swirled and clenched like a fist around King¡¯s Bay before plunging into the sea. There was a single, bright pulse of yellow and purple light from within. The waters quivered like a maiden to a lover¡¯s touch.


    But that lover¡¯s touch soon turned brutal, and violent. A cruel hand no longer content on waiting, but now taking what it wanted. Things spilled from the clouds and into the water. And then many things rose from the water, creatures of forms beyond the ken of Man. They slinked onto shore, and most found they could not survive long outside the water. But a few could. A few could.


    But the men and women aboard the Hazard never saw any of this. Because night had fallen again, they saw only darkness, and an opening of the sky, and strange ghost lights moving beneath the waves. A few sets of purple eyes. As they raced away on a propitious breeze, Captain Laurier stormed belowdecks and bolted the door to his cabin and screamed and kicked over his desk and ignored the pounding on his door from Okoa.


    Hours passed.


    Laurier sat in his chair and looked out the three rear windows at the storm. A storm without winds. And yet the sea heaved.


    As he watched the waves surge and the cobwebs dissipate, John Laurier began to do something that had long been his skill, born out of a need to hide. Hide himself, hide his motives, hide his true feelings, and hide his true intelligence. A need to hide from the law and his father. All of it enhanced a skill that was always there, just beneath the surface, and honed with experience. Taking what was available and applying it to a new goal.


    Planning.


    Was this you, Benjamin? Did you know what Rogers would do? Did you know and still do nothing?


    When the storm was lying flat on the horizon, John stood up and walked to the door and opened it. He called up for Okoa.


    ¡°You call me, Captain?¡±


    John paced a moment before he said, ¡°Captain Belmont. Bring him to me.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Captain. What are you going to do?¡±


    Laurier closed each of the windows, and locked them. ¡°Punish the world.¡± He touched the locket about his neck. ¡°What a famous thing that would be, Mr. Okoa. To punish the whole goddamn world. Imagine it. Take all their coins and silks and spices, and watch how they falter and founder without them. To leave King George and King Philip both bankrupt, destitute, doomed to walk the world as barefoot paupers, from town to town, their teeth rotting and their hands out like fucking beggars. What a famous thing that would be.¡±


    ____


    That night, Akil swung in the hammock at the far end of the forecastle where he and the other Africans had been allotted space. He peered across at Noala, with the babe in her arms, suckling from its mother. From the ship¡¯s stern came screaming. Bogoa was undergoing some sort of white man¡¯s medicine to try and save what was left of his face.


    This had been going on all night.


    Every time Bogoa screamed, Noala looked around in fright. Akil had heard such screams too many times to remember, both before and during his subjugation. He stood and walked across the room and held out a canteen filled with water. ¡°Drink,¡± he told her.


    Noala¡¯s eyes glittered in one of the three lanterns that lit up the forecastle. She took the canteen after only a moment¡¯s hesitation and drank thirstily, then she looked around at the traumatized faces of the crew. Akil looked with her. They both looked at the vacant stares, and listened to someone weeping.


    ¡°This is like a nightmare,¡± she said, and coughed.


    ¡°Drink,¡± he said again. ¡°For the baby. You need your strength. Yame needs it, too.¡±


    She took a deeper draught.


    ¡°Have you ever fought?¡± Akil asked.


    Noala wiped her mouth and shook her head.


    ¡°You will fight. That will cure you of everything.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? Cure me?¡±


    ¡°Of all this fear and doubt you¡¯re now feeling. Of your hatred and feelings of powerlessness. Of your fear for the child. You both will fight. You will see.¡± Akil turned away when he saw Okoa come limping down the stairs. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said to Noala, and walked over to the quartermaster. ¡°Okoa, what of the captain? What of our course? Where shall we go?¡±


    ¡°Not for me to say right now.¡± Okoa tried to brush past him, but Akil grabbed him. Okoa looked down at the hand on his elbow. ¡°Release me, sir.¡±


    ¡°Tell me, rafiki. Where are we going?¡±


    Okoa looked like he might make this an issue, but then nodded for Akil to follow him down the companionway. At the other end, he spoke in low tones. ¡°The captain¡­I think he believes he was betrayed.¡±


    ¡°Betrayed by who?¡±


    ¡°Maybe no one. Maybe one person. Maybe many people.¡±


    ¡°And what will he do?¡±


    ¡°He will make an argument for vengeance, and try to convince the crew to go with him.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®try to convince¡¯? He is the captain, isn¡¯t he? He doesn¡¯t have to convince anybody, he can go where he pleases.¡±


    ¡°You still don¡¯t understand our ways. This isn¡¯t a naval ship. It¡¯s a pirate ship. And pirates vote on everything. Captain Laurier will not go anywhere the majority of the crew does not wish to go. However, when it comes to this sort of thing, he tends to be persuasive. He tends to get his way.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Has anyone ever told you about the captain¡¯s wrath?¡±


    Akil shook his head.


    ¡°It is a thing to behold. Pray none of us are ever at the other end of it. Now, get some rest. In the morning you and your people will learn to hand and reef. You will learn how to crew. And you will also have a say in where we go next.¡±


    ¡°What? We will have a say?¡±


    Okoa chuckled. ¡°This isn¡¯t England, rafiki. This is a pirate ship. Everyone is equal here. If you don¡¯t want to come along for the captain¡¯s vengeance, you don¡¯t have to. Just like you didn¡¯t have to help him at the Smith plantation. But if you decide not to join us, you will miss out on his plan.¡±


    ¡°What is it? What¡¯s his plan?¡±


    Okoa scratched his neck. ¡°I have only gleaned parts of it, for he keeps much of it hidden. But from what I¡¯ve gathered, I can only make a guess.¡±


    ¡°Then make a guess. Tell me.¡±


    And so Okoa told him what he knew of the Ladyman¡¯s plan. It took a couple of hours to explain it all, both of them huddled in the dark while the others slept and Noala sang her son to sleep, but once Okoa was done, he said, ¡°So, what will be your vote?¡±


    Akil had never heard of a plan so grand. He was taken aback by the enormity of it, but once the waves had settled in his mind, he sighed and said, ¡°Where is this place? These¡­Colonies?¡±

 Chapter 24: Toby, and the Monsters of Port Royal

    ¡°three sheets to the wind¡± ¨C To be extremely drunk and out of control, as any unsecured sheets may cause a ship to be out of control.


    THE RUM WAS good, so he tried to focus on that. When Benjamin was a boy, his mother taught him to focus on the good things. Even when the plantation failed to prosper two seasons in a row, and it looked as if Father mightn¡¯t return from his voyage to Tortuga, Mother had insisted they smile and focus on good food and playing games. But there was trouble on the plantation that year Father was gone so long, and that trouble was in the form of a black boy, a slave boy, named Toby. Presently, while he sat in the drinking hall sipping his rum, trying not to focus on the storm raging outside or the certain demise of a man he now realized he loved more than anything else, Benjamin remembered Toby, and the bitter, unnecessary rivalry that nearly caused Father¡¯s plantation to burn to the ground.


    Benjamin reckoned it had started because of jealously. Here was Toby, born to slaves on an island far from the Vhingfrith plantation, taken from them when he was fifteen, and sold to Mr. Ottley, a business associate of Arthur Vhingfrith. Toby was gifted to Arthur as part of a deal between the two men¡ªthe specifics of which Benjamin had long forgotten¡ªbut he recalled the day the boy, who was the same age as him at the time, was brought home.


    Toby arrived with two other slaves on the back of a cart pulled by a mule and driven by a farmhand named Yorick, who also worked for Arthur. Ben had come outside to see if there was any mail, which Yorick often picked up for the Vhingfriths and delivered to their home every Sunday. When he saw the boy on the back of the cart, with skin blacker than night, sitting slumped and in naught but tattered tunic and breeches, Ben had at first smiled at him. But something happened that hurt even to think about to this day. Toby had looked up in astonishment, almost horrified, to see another dark-skinned boy standing there in freshly washed linens, with shoes and all, with all his teeth and looking washed and well tailored.


    Unless Ben misremembered, the boy had visibly recoiled from him. He barely even noticed the other two slaves, which had been two women of about thirty years. Ben and Toby simply stared at one another the way a housecat and a wildcat might wonder if the other is a separate species entirely.


    Meanwhile, Arthur and Yorick shook hands, and discussed what to do about the haywain, which was late to deliver, and which crops they ought to consider planting first in the season. They continued their long debate over whether to transition the north field from cotton and allow for more sugarcane. Almost as an afterthought, Arthur asked Yorick where he intended to put the three new slaves. ¡°In the barn, I reckon, sir,¡± was Yorick¡¯s response.


    In the drinking hall, men laughed and sang louder, competing with the storm outside.


    Benjamin sipped his rum, and tried to concentrate on the flavour. Tried to forget the vision of John Laurier swinging from a gallows. But for all its suppressive powers, rum only amplified the memory of Toby, and that first rainy, storm-filled month when he and Ben had crossed one another¡¯s paths in silence, giving each other sidelong glances. Each of us was wondering about the experience of the other, I suppose. The more he drank, the more he realized he had never stopped thinking about this subject. Indeed, much of his life was likely decided because of what happened next.


    Toby struck him.


    No, wait, before that, Toby had approached the steps of the house, the first time he had done so since he arrived, and spoke to Godfrey, another of the farmhands. He said, ¡°Mr. Yorick say I have to ask to come inside. He say I need to see about going into town. I been sick, me. He say no doctor come out this way, so I must go to town.¡±


    Benjamin could not recall the precise words he said next, but Godfrey argued with the boy before allowing him to come inside and speak to Ben¡¯s mother about arranging a wagon to take him into town. And while Toby had stood in the parlour and explained his symptoms, which were problems with his bowels being liquid, he kept glancing across the room at Benjamin, who had been ordered by his mother to attend his arithmetic studies.


    When Toby had been dismissed by Mother, he walked past Benjamin¡¯s desk, and said, ¡°How come you read?¡±


    Benjamin had never been spoken to by anyone his own age. Excited to reply, he opened his mouth.


    Mother had shouted, ¡°You don¡¯t speak to him! You understand? You go now! Out, out.¡± She shooed Toby out of the house and he skittered away like a racoon off the porch, and once he was gone, Mother scolded Benjamin as if he had done something wrong. ¡°Never let them be familiar. You are not the same as them. I¡¯ve told you that. You cannot let them think you are familiar. You speak to whites, and only to whites. Only coloured person you speak to is me, but even that you must never do in polite company. Understand?¡±


    Benjamin had been confused. ¡°Polite company?¡±


    ¡°Yes. When your father returns, he will have larger business partners. Much more important than the old ones. And you mustn¡¯t speak to me in front of them. Don¡¯t let them see you seeing me. Understand?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then just do as I say.¡±


    Mother had not wanted him giving anyone any reason to see him as anything other than his father¡¯s son. That, she would later tell him, was the key to his survival once she was gone. Both she and Arthur had conspired ways of keeping their boy alive when they were both dead, including contingency plans of fleeing to the northern part of the Colonies and finding Arthur¡¯s family there, that they might honour Benjamin¡¯s connection to their bloodline.


    Presently, lightning struck. It was a strange, twisting shape. Looked almost like a noose.


    At the time, when he¡¯d gone about the plantation determinedly not speaking to Toby, Benjamin had thought he was only doing what he was told. He hadn¡¯t seen the vitriol building in the other boy. Only in retrospect did he realize that when he ignored Toby calling to him from the fields that one time, he should¡¯ve seen the rock coming. It came arcing over the sugarcane, and cracked Benjamin in his left temple. His head rang and blood went down his face. When he went to his mother, almost in tears, her face became a storm, and she ran out into the fields and demanded to know who flung the stone. At first, no one came forward as witness, until Charles, one of the oldest and most loyal of the plantation¡¯s slaves, came to the house in secret that night and ratted on Toby.


    It was Yorick who whipped the boy bloody. Benjamin¡¯s mother made him watch. Made all the slaves and farmhands watch as Toby was tied to the old oak tree in the back yard, where the swing hung from a long branch¡ªthe same swing his mother pushed him on when he was small. The hempen rope bit into Toby¡¯s wrists. Each crack of the whip made Ben jerk inwardly. The boy¡¯s cries seemed to silence the crickets. One of Yorick¡¯s strikes was so hard that the air filled with a bloody mist, which floated in the noon sun and Benjamin caught the coppery smell and almost became sick.


    Toby¡¯s ropes were untied, and the boy was hauled away by the other slaves, some of whom were trying, and failing, to hide their tears.


    That night, Benjamin sat reading a book by candlelight. The window was open and a summer breeze floated in. He thought he smelled Toby¡¯s blood in the air still. His mother was knitting on the sofa. He asked her, ¡°Mother, why does Father treat you and I differently?¡±


    She stopped knitting a moment and looked at him flatly. ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Why am I not as Toby? Why¡ª¡±


    ¡°You ask that question again, and I will strike you. Do you understand me? The thought must not enter your mind that you are one of them. There is no why. There is only who you are. Your father treats you and I with grace and love that he doesn¡¯t share with most others, not even his friends and business partners. Be grateful for that. Be grateful to God.¡±


    No emotion could be read on her granite features. She returned to her knitting.


    Presently, thunder rolled. Ben looked out the window, beads of rain streaking down. He took another sip of his rum. It was not Kill Devil Rum, it had something else that gave it a twist, some tree bark that gave it tang. He tried not to think of Toby anymore, but the memory, like the storm, would not abate.


    Early next morning, with clouds gathered thick in the sky, Mother had sent Benjamin out to the barn to fetch a rake. She wanted him to help two of the farmhands gather dead leaves in the back yard and burn them. Benjamin was whistling one of his mother¡¯s hymns when he stepped inside the barn, which had never seemed so dark to him. He heard a creaking sound, like light feet on wooden steps. The morning was still and quiet but for that noise. And he couldn¡¯t place the source. He gathered the rake from a musty corner, piled next to the shovels and hoes, when the clouds chose that moment to disperse and let a large shaft of sunlight come through the wooden slats. Still, he heard that creaking, but could not find the source. Like wood straining under someone¡¯s considerable weight. Benjamin felt eyes on him, and started out of the barn quickly, until he saw a shadow up in the rafters. A body, about as big as his, swinging lightly. He gasped. Toby appeared to be hanging by one hand, gazing down at him. Had he been waiting there all night, waiting to drop down on Ben in ambush? How had he known that Ben would be sent out this early?


    Benjamin held the rake up in defence.


    But then more clouds dispersed, more sunlight poured in through the barn door, enough light to see that Toby wasn¡¯t hanging from the rafter by his arm. He was swinging by a rope, his neck pulled so tight that his face had turned blue and looked ready to pop off. His neck looked stretched. Far too long for his body. Far longer than it had been in life.


    Benjamin ran from the barn screaming, and cried to his mother about what he saw.


    The slaves mourned Toby. The two women that had come to the plantation with Toby wept, even though they weren¡¯t related to him. They held a funeral service. Mother did not attend, and neither would she allow Benjamin.


    The next day, Benjamin became aware of just how outnumbered they were by slaves, and just how powerful his father¡¯s absence was, because three slaves, who hitherto had been obedient and never caused a problem, threw torches through their windows and entered the home with shovels and pitchforks. If it had not been for Yorick coming in with his rifle and shooting one of them, and forcing the other two to flee, Benjamin believed he and his mother would have died that night.


    He still smelled the smoke. Even now, sipping rum and watching the storm, he smelled the smoke. And heard the sound of breaking glass in the night, the flames licking up the curtains, up the walls, all the farmhands rallying to douse the flames with buckets of water taken from the horse troughs.


    And all the while, half the slaves on the plantation slept in their beds and pretended not to hear any of the commotion. And those that did turn up to help, did so with baleful glances in Benjamin¡¯s direction. It was as though his very existence was a bane, a violation of the natural order. He knew, with the instincts of a young man becoming aware of the importance of reputation, that they blamed him for Toby¡¯s death¡ªwhether Toby died by suicide or some kind of retribution murder by the farmhands, did not matter to them. He was never more afraid in all his life. He and his mother slept in the same bed, with candles lit, five rifles loaded and ready on the floor within arm¡¯s reach.


    The next day, by God¡¯s grace, his father returned, and reestablished order by selling certain slaves and punishing others for doing nothing while the house burned.


    God, how close we came. He still remembered vividly the morning he found Toby swinging from the rafter, that sound of wood made, creaking lightly from his weight. The boy had still been swinging a little, which meant he¡¯d done the deed not too long before Benjamin walked in, or else whoever murdered him had just left. And he remembered Toby¡¯s eyes looking down at something. At him¡ª


    Presently, he felt a tickling on his hand. Benjamin wiped away the ants. The uninvited guests had found a way up through a crack in the floor, and now formed a thickening line up one of the table¡¯s legs. He brushed them away from the parchment, upon which he¡¯d started to write parts of his account of what happened while they traversed the firmament. Like the rum, it was meant to be something to stay his grief.


    John¡­


    Just thinking his name forced Benjamin to clench his fists.


    In his last moments, did he think I had betrayed him? Did he think¡ª


    Someone bumped into him on their way across the drinking hall. Ben shifted in his seat and looked at the window beside him, at the rain streaking down the glass. Odd colour for lightning, he thought. A purple bolt moved crookedly across the sky, momentarily flashing red before it forked.


    ¡°Looking for some good brave men, Captain? Because if you¡¯re writing a treatise on summin, you could find a quieter spot, is all I¡¯m saying.¡±


    Vhingfrith stirred. Looked around to see Otis coming over with a refill. ¡°Eh?¡±


    The Golden Goose¡¯s one-eyed owner smiled as he handed off the new mug and scooped up the empty one. ¡°When the storm¡¯s a-rumblin, yeh know where to find the men whiling away the night. Naught else to do in a storm round here. Thought you¡¯d come to find some rebel sorts to sail with.¡±


    ¡°Most of the men here are only rebels because they lack fathers, Otis. I believe it was you who told me that.¡±


    Otis chortled, and pointed at the parchment. ¡°What yeh writin¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Only my thoughts,¡± Ben sighed. ¡°Nothing special.¡±


    ¡°Man¡¯s thoughts are always special. Is it a book?¡±


    Vhingfrith shook his head. ¡°No, I shouldn¡¯t think so. Not a book.¡±


    ¡°What is it, then? Poetry? I remember your father used to say he told yeh not to write poetry, but was secretly glad when he later found out your mother¡¯d forced yeh. Said it made yeh look like a regular Man of Letters¡ª¡±


    ¡°Please walk away from my table, Otis. I am most distraught. In fact, I think I have never been so distraught in all my life.¡±


    Otis¡¯s smile fell behind a cloud. ¡°A¡¯right then, Captain. Good night to yeh. Let Sarah know if yeh need anything. But that¡¯s your third drink, and I know how yeh¡¯ve never been able to hold your liquor. So, see that you¡¯re not three sheets to the wind by sunrise.¡±


    Vhingfrith started to apologize, but he hadn¡¯t the energy to be humble. Not on this night. When he closed his eyes he saw John¡¯s neck stretched as long as Toby¡¯s, and whenever someone walked behind him and he heard the floorboards creak, he could not but recall the look in Toby¡¯s dead eyes. Or had he only imagined it?


    I told him to let it go. I told him that whatever he was planning, to just let it go. I told him Rogers and the others were never going to stop until they found a way to get him alone, surrounded, without his loyal men in Port Royal helping. I told him. I told him that a day of reckoning was coming for all pirates in Royal. I told him. I told him and the stupid man did not listen¡ª


    Another arc of red lightning split the sky, and for a moment, just at his periphery, Benjamin thought he glimpsed a large figure moving in the distance. A man-shaped shadow, towering over the buildings of Lime Street. He leaned forward, straining his eyes. He thought it a curious distortion of light and shadow, and, of course, his own dark thoughts had likely made the shadow form the silhouette of a giant, the same way you could look at clouds and find shapes in them. Father always told him that whatever you saw in the clouds bespoke whatever you were thinking about or feeling inside.


    A looming threat, then. A hangman with broad shoulders walking up the steps to the gallows, having just doublechecked the trapdoors to make sure they¡¯ll open.


    He downed the rum in three gulps, then stood up and flung the mug across the bar, where it crashed against a wall. A dozen pirates, privateers, and officers turned as one to look at the Devil¡¯s Son.


    Then, calmly, he rolled the pen up in his parchment, tucked them both inside his coat, dusted ants off his boots, and stepped out into the rain. But as soon as he stepped through the batwing doors, a woman, soaked in blood and water, slammed into him, clinging to his neck so tightly that her fingernails raked him. Benjamin¡¯s reflexes, always alert for an attack, snatched her by the throat and flung her to the ground. Men playing fanorona at a table nearby leapt to their feet.


    ¡°Madam, watch who you grab! You act as¡ª¡± He stopped shouting when he saw that half her scalp was missing, and a long slab of flesh hung from her head, covering the pit of an eye that looked partially gouged out. The woman rolled onto her stomach, and started crawling away.


    Two men playing a fiddle and flute in a corner stopped. Others halted mid-conversation. Otis came walking over with a machete in hand, looking like he wanted to find the one in his hall that did this. Otis looked at Vhingfrith, and Vhingfrith looked back at him, and then they looked down at the woman.


    Otis knelt by her side. ¡°Luv, who did this? Yeh tell ol¡¯ Otis! God be merciful, look at you! Who¡¯s the one¡ª¡±


    ¡°A m-m-m-m¡­m-m-m¡­¡±


    Vhingfrith stood in the doorway. He looked down at the trail of blood leading across the threshold. The woman had left a red streak from two legs that looked as though a jaguar had slashed at them.


    ¡°A m-m-m¡­muh mon¡­monsterrrrr¡­¡± she wept. One trembling finger pointed at the door. At Vhingfrith. ¡°M-Monster¡­it killed him¡­it k-killed m-my Danny! Dannyyyyy!¡± she shrieked.


    ¡°Anybody know what the bloody hell she¡¯s talkin¡¯ about? Anybody see anything?¡± Otis said.


    Everyone shook their heads and shrugged.


    Vhingfrith had the same feeling of suspicion as he had that morning before he found Toby. The reason he had slipped a pocketknife under his belt before going out into the barn. He had not known what was going to happen, only that something would. Eventually. And that it was close.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    About town he wore only a single pistol in his belt, not his usual brace of pistols. He drew it now, cocked it, and stepped out into the rain, keeping it close to his side so that the fuse didn¡¯t get damp. The night was as plainly dark as any he¡¯d ever seen it, but his cat¡¯s-eye pierced that veil, and only the rain obscured the street. All he could hear was the rain, and the sound of hurried footsteps splashing through puddles. They were getting closer. He pointed his pistol at the blurry forms coming at him, and two men ran past him, one with blood running down his face. ¡°What is it?¡± Ben called after them. ¡°What did you see?¡±


    They yelled something back, but he couldn¡¯t make it out above the thunder and roaring downpour. More hurried footsteps. A galloping animal. The riderless horse nearly knocked him over. Would have, if not for his cat¡¯s-eye. Benjamin gazed in the direction it came from, east along Lime Street, towards the Fish Market, and began walking that way.


    The lamplighters had at least done some work tonight, the lanterns at that end of the street were still lit. Outside the Fish Market, just on the steps of a milliner¡¯s shop that was closed this hour, was a hunched form. Folk ran right by it, and never saw it. But Benjamin saw it. It was on all fours, like a dog, only too big to be a dog. Its head was bobbing up and down the way a chicken¡¯s will, when picking up feed off the ground. Feeling like a moth drawn to flame, Benjamin kept his weapon raised and walked towards that hunched form.


    Someone else ran past him, a bearded man in ripped pants and tunic, bleeding from a gash in his left arm. He shouted, ¡°They¡¯re here! O God, they¡¯re here!¡±


    Benjamin ignored him, and kept walking.


    When he came upon the hunched creature, Benjamin slowly orbited it, fascinated, allowing the thing to remain in its feeding trance. And a trance it must¡¯ve been, for it was heedless of Benjamin and his weapon. Yet it was a man. At least his senses told him so. A naked man, flesh peeling off his hunched back, as his spine broke free in an array of spikes. A snake shedding its skin. An elongated snout with an overbite. Fangs that varied in size. Four nostrils. A hole like a whale¡¯s blowhole on its forehead, constantly snorting.


    ¡°My God,¡± he whispered.


    The corpse it was hunched over, he presumed, had been Danny. Danny was disemboweled, his guts spilled out onto the street in bloody sacks, while the creature¡¯s taloned hands burrowed deeper, rooting around for something else. It plunged its elongated muzzle into the maw of Danny¡¯s split abdomen and sniffed.


    Benjamin was past being horrified. Stunned, surely, but unable to blink, unable to look away. Having faced fourteen days without sunlight, and knowing John Laurier was surely dead or soon to be, he was struck by a clinical detachment, thinking on the stories of shetani and bogros and other vile spirits his mother had warned him about. Had Danny been alive, had there been a chance at saving him, Benjamin would¡¯ve pulled the trigger. But Danny was dead, his body moving only when the creature pawed at it. It pulled Danny¡¯s pants down, sniffed his prick, licked it, then turned him over to examine his buttocks, then his neck. It began gnawing at his scalp.


    ¡°What¡ªin¡ªGod¡¯s¡ªname!¡± someone shouted. Sounded like Otis. He came up behind Ben with a torch. ¡°Vhingfrith! What¡¯re yeh waitin¡¯ for? Shoot it!¡±


    As though sensing danger, the creature suddenly looked around the street, and fixed eight glossy black orbs (eyes?) on Benjamin. Then its face split open into eight parts like a flower blooming at a hundred times normal speed, and a pair of pulsating buds emerged from its throat. When it pulsed with purple light, a voice said, in a child¡¯s voice, ¡°Mother, why does Father treat you and I differently?¡±


    Recognizing his own voice, Benjamin jolted and squeezed the trigger and the round exploded the pulsating sack and the creature fell over into the mud. Then, fast as lightning, the creature shot back to its four legs, then rose onto two feet and ran away from him. It tried running up a wall but slipped and fell back into the mud, wriggled while making a squealing sound like a pig, then whipped back onto all fours. Its head looked around. There was a grotesque crunching sound, and its head reassembled itself and swiveled around like an owl¡¯s.


    Benjamin drew his cutlass, and walked towards it.


    The monster¡¯s eight eyes stared at him. Then its legs appeared to give out, and it collapsed onto its belly. It began to slither forward like a snake, one of its hind legs twitching like it was trying to remember how to walk.


    And then it stopped, let out a single, final squeal, and went silent.


    Almost immediately, Benjamin felt such heat he had only ever felt on the hottest summer day, and the creature¡¯s body began emitting steam, and a smell that caused him to gag. He backed away and put his sleeve to his nose, and witnessed its flesh sloughing off in huge, festering slabs. Pus-filled blisters all across the thing¡¯s flesh burst, and wherever the pus touched it caused the water in the street to sizzle like bacon. Where it touched Danny it did the same.


    Lightning struck again, bloodred and bright. Up and down Lime Street, people screamed. When Benjamin thought to look around, he saw the same gigantic silhouette as before, this time closer, coming up from the sea and looming over the rooftops. And his cat¡¯s-eye allowed him to see more than most. The monster¡¯s midsection was split open like a mouth. Its flesh writhed, as though it was made out of worms, and some of those writhing pieces sloughed off its body and fell, presumably, into the sea.


    People were running up the street, up the hill, away from the shore. It seemed to him like the ocean was coming inland, because foaming white water came rushing up to his shoes before receding or being soaked into the earth.


    Benjamin turned and walked over to Otis, who stood in the street gaping up at the sky. He grabbed the man by the collar and shouted above the thunder, ¡°Go back to the Goose! Otis! Tell every officer there what you saw! Then fetch me a horse from your stable! And a sturdy rope! Do you understand? On your life, fetch me a horse and rope! Otis!¡±


    Otis hadn¡¯t heard.


    Benjamin slapped him, and repeated the order.


    Otis nodded. ¡°Wh-what do yeh need the horse and rope for?¡±


    ¡°To ride to the Governor¡¯s Mansion. I¡¯m going to haul this bloody beast up to Lord Hamilton¡¯s doorstep and show him a devil. I have a feeling we may be in for another long night.¡±


    Otis looked at him. ¡°Y-yeh mean¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°¡ªlike the one you went through¡­out there?¡±


    ¡°Just go, Otis. And bring out your rifles and pistols, if you¡¯ve got them ready to go. Hand them out to every able-bodied man in your hall. And tell any lamplighters in your hall that we¡¯ll need torches. Tell them all to assemble here¡ªare you bloody listening, Otis?! Tell them to assemble here, at the Fish Market! Whatever this is, we fight it. Understood.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­yes, we fight it.¡±


    ____


    The Long Night set upon the land like no other darkness ever seen before by Man. Gunshots were heard all over Port Royal, as random mobs gathered and fell apart and then came back together and forged new mobs. Lamplighters rode ahorse with torches, trying to rally militiamen, who were themselves trying to coordinate. The Royal Marines were brought up from the docks and down from the Admiralty Office to fan out through the streets. Here and there they encountered Captain Benjamin Vhingfrith and his mob, asking what all they¡¯d seen.


    Seven more creatures like the one Vhingfrith had encountered were shot and killed, then hauled to the Fish Market and burned. There was infighting. A Royal Marine mistook a child in an alley for one of the creatures and shot him, and a mob attacked him for it. Vhingfrith arrived on the scene on horseback and talked both sides down, using a lie to do it¡ªhe told them that he¡¯d just spotted one of the creatures a quarter-mile back, and almost everyone deployed there, for word had long ago spread of his ability to see in the dark. They trusted him to see what they could not.


    Soon, Vhingfrith was leading groups of hunters up and down the streets.


    Port Royal¡¯s resistance fell apart and came back together like this all night, until at last it seemed to have agglutinated into something approaching a unified front. The night stretched on. The rain petered off but the sun never came up. Three hours past when sunrise was meant to be, it became obvious something had changed, the natural order had been altered. But the people of Port Royal had heard rumours of such phenomena out at sea. ¡°This same thing happened to the men aboard the Lively,¡± they whispered. ¡°Yes,¡± said others, ¡°and it was the Devil¡¯s Son that got all them poor sailors through it.¡±


    And though it took them a while, they finally fastened themselves to the idea that it was here. It was happening to them. The long night had come, and only Vhingfrith had experience in it.


    Three more of the creatures were shot. Then an innocent man was shot running after one of the creatures. Bodies ripped open by the beasts were much like Danny¡¯s had been, the stomach emptied and the innards being sniffed by the creatures like they were looking for something else, something more enticing, inside each body.


    The large, lumbering monster in the shallows of the shore vanished. People claimed to have seen the giant with arms, hands, and possibly three or four legs, all made out of fleshless human bodies stitched together in grotesque and blasphemous fashion. And while the tides were a little erratic, they no longer encroached on the inner city. Whatever the Behemoth had been, it was gone now.


    Five houses were set on fire by panicking families, either the patriarchs or the matriarchs thinking this was the End of Days. Folk gathered by the hundreds at the Old Church. Women and children were invited to huddle inside, listening to fading thunder and the reports of gunshots all over the city. Vhingfrith¡¯s cat¡¯s-eye led the mobs through the streets, shooting four more of the beasts, and chasing two others back into the sea, where they swam and disappeared.


    The captains of two ships, the Haley and the Bethany, weighed anchor and set sail from the North Docks, making haste to flee the city. Both of them claimed Port Royal was damned, that the Catholics were right and that the port city was the modern day Sodom and Gomorrah. They said the city was abandoned by God and left to Satan to do plundering.


    Woodes Rogers and a Royal Marine, Major Halleck, were put in charge of building makeshift fortifications at the mouth of each road and at every junction. They went to the sawmill to get wood, and built Frisian horses and posted them at the beach, just like in wartime to prevent horses from charging across a battlefield. It was as though they expected an invasion.


    And perhaps they did. Perhaps they should.


    The talk was that this evil lived in the sea, but only during a Long Night. That¡¯s what they were all calling it now, just as some referred to all of this as ¡°the work o¡¯ the firmament,¡± for Vhingfrith¡¯s words were now circulating, and as many of his crew were talking about how he¡¯d possibly brought this curse on Port Royal, just as many were telling how he¡¯d served bravely during that first Long Night.


    Captain Vhingfrith remained loosely in charge of his pack of sailors, fiddlers, lamplighters, and dockworkers, who patrolled from Lime Street to York Street until well past when the next noontime should have arrived. And when the clouds parted and a full, pale, white-and-green moon appeared in the sky alongside a crescent red one, Vhingfrith assured his flock that this would pass, that he and the men of the Lively had survived such a Long Night once and emerged from it. When some of the people asked why he¡¯d called those of his crew liars when they claimed to have passed through the Hellmouth, he ignored them, and focused only on the facts as he saw them.


    It was a strange nightmare in which the people of Port Royal lived. People kept inside their homes at almost all hours, and only ever came out to visit the general supply store and get food. It was like the stories of the Plague, Vhingfrith thought, when the eighth straight day of the Long Night was upon them, where people feared going out of doors and some of them even feared their neighbours, especially if they supported a different religion. Catholics, Lutherans, Protestants¡ªthey all had a different belief in what had caused this Long Night. A common theme was that the Long Night was a curse of some kind, but none could agree on who had laid it upon them.


    Crops began to fail. As far away as Kingston, it was said. People had traveled from Kingston to see if things were any better in Port Royal. It was all failing. Coconut, cocoa, sugarcane, bananas, sugar, citrus¡ªall of it was collapsing.


    And the tides started getting high. One of the docks was washed away in a particularly violent surge of waves that lasted for almost eight hours. Four feluccas and two xebecs were sunk before the tides settled again.


    A group of Protestant priests held prayers each day at the Old Church at what should¡¯ve been noon. The local Lutheran, a Scandinavian fellow name of Olaf, held prayers on the beach near Fort Morgan, facing east, promising the sun¡¯s return soon. Someone found Olaf while he was sleeping, dragged him from his bed, and tried to hang him from a tree. If not for his knife-fighting skills, which apparently played at least a part in his fleeing his home country, the priest would not have bought himself time enough to call for help. The kidnapper fled, and Protestants claimed to know nothing about it.


    The soldiers at Fort Morgan, Fort James, and Fort Carlisle were all put on constant alert. Cannons were aimed out to sea and manned at all hours as if at any moment they expected the giant, fleshless colossus to rise up out of the depths. Woodes Rogers, Governor Hamilton, and the Admiralty never officially stated the reason for the state of alert, they never uttered the words, ¡°Watch out for a demon from the depths¡± or anything like that. Only, ¡°Be on alert.¡± That was all the orders the soldiers were given.


    Woodes Rogers¡¯s own ship, the Duke, was put to sea along with her sister ship the Duchess, and together they performed constant patrols around the island. Again, searching for an unknown menace, and under the watchful white-and-green alien moon.


    Word came down from the Governor¡¯s Mansion. Lord Hamilton himself decreed that he had spoken to many naturalists, and that he was assured this phenomena was merely ¡°some trick of clouds and strange, ephemeral gases that occasionally come up from the sea.¡± This mollified no one, and most of Port Royal remained indoors. Food became scarce, everyone was holed up, waiting for the sun to return, and occasionally there were bloody fights between houses, desperate fathers and starving mothers trying to steal food from other houses to feed their families.


    After several more days of this Long Night, the Lively joined the Duke, and Captain Vhingfrith soon became known as a privateer among privateers, so much so that a few of the Brethren, who¡¯d come down from Nassau and reported the Long Night was taking place there, too, joined him and even seemed to defer to him as their leader during patrols of the island. It was the combination of his ability to see through darkness, his previous experience with a Long Night, and his prowess and leadership that first night when rounding up all the beasts.


    By the time the alien moons disappeared and the sun returned, and all the island came out into the streets¡ªfurtively at first¡ªand then in joyous celebration, Captain Benjamin Vhingfrith, the Devil¡¯s Son, had a song being sung about him in The Golden Goose and every other drinking hall in Port Royal.


    O, there¡¯s a man with a cat-eye stare, don¡¯t you know?


    Aye, tell us his name, ye laddie!


    There is no shadow where he won¡¯t go!


    But will he fight with ye, laddie?


    O aye, O aye, the fella won¡¯t be leaving you high and dry!


    So why not tell us his name, yeh laddie?


    ¡¯Cause he¡¯s marked those monsters as fit to die!


    O, surely ye mean the Devil¡¯s Son, yeh laddie?


    ____


    It¡¯s a good thing no one killed the Scandinavian, Vhingfrith thought as he observed the careful dissection. Olaf Gustaffsson wasn¡¯t only a Lutheran, not only a Man of Letters, not only a skilled knife-fighter, but also a trained doctor during the last war and a naturalist of surpassing skill. Woodes Rogers had ordered all but two of the Beasts¡¯ bodies burned, and those two were brought here, to the shack on the outskirts of Port Royal where Gustaffsson had done some work on cattle the season before, when several farmers¡¯ cows had died suddenly and without symptoms. It had been Gustaffsson who diagnosed them with Cattle Plague and recommended separate feeding pens until the disease had passed.


    Vhingfrith orbited the crowd that was gathered around the priest¡¯s table, perfumed cloths covering their noses and mouths to fend off the ammonia-and-feces stench. Vhingfrith had gotten to know Olaf in the last two weeks, as they each shared a love for the Dutch naturalist Antoine van Leeuwenhoek and his search for microscopic causes of disease, as well as the English naturalist Edward Topsell¡¯s Book on Bestiary and A Scholarly History of Four-footed Beasts & Serpents. A dozen other scholars were present, drawn from the Admiralty and from the only school in Port Royal.


    Benjamin believed, without ego, that he was likely the only person in the room who understood everything the priest was saying.


    ¡°¡ªthe sort of dewlap one might see on the throat of a dog,¡± Olaf was saying, tugging at the elastic flesh on the creature¡¯s neck, a moment before cutting into it. Vhingfrith had already warned him about the acidic nature of some of the Beast¡¯s fluids, but those seemed to have dissipated after death, and the corpse had gone shockingly dry on the inside, almost like leather. ¡°It hasn¡¯t the withers of a quadruped, which is unusual. There is a¡ªmy God,¡± he breathed.


    Everyone leaned in as he peeled back a slab of flesh.


    ¡°The shoulders are interlocking in crisscrossing structures I¡¯ve never seen before. Several notches here¡­yes¡­where the joints can¡­look here! The joints can dislocate and fit perfectly into other joints around it! Almost like a puzzle! To create locomotion¡ªto change direction specifically¡ªI believe it unhooks one of its own joints, shifting around the connection ligaments accordingly, and then locks them into place somewhere else! Like¡­like¡­¡± He searched for the right words.


    ¡°Like a schooner putting out a sail to catch wind, and then extending its oars when there is no wind, perhaps?¡± Vhingfrith provided from the edge of the room.


    They all turned and looked at him.


    ¡°Yes!¡± said Olaf. ¡°Precisely! It alternates the method of its travel.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I personally saw it maneuver in many different ways. First like a man, then like a dog, and finally a serpent.¡±


    Olaf nodded and returned to his dissection. ¡°And its head. Completely capable of breaking apart into several interlocking parts, separating and clicking together at a joint here, much like the joints around an ant¡¯s, eh¡­the eh¡­¡±


    ¡°Labial palp?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes! The palp! And these mandibles¡­stretching out from a labrum-like structure, though these pockets here¡­like bags of gas and liquid. Don¡¯t know what they are for¡ª¡±


    ¡°It spoke,¡± Vhingfrith said. ¡°Others said they heard the same. It spoke like¡­like someone I once knew.¡± It had, in fact, spoken like Vhingfrith, only much younger. So much younger he almost hadn¡¯t recognized his own voice.


    Again, everyone looked at him. The stories had been going around of people hearing the dead speak through the mouths of the Beasts. Some people hadn¡¯t run away from them because of an attack, they¡¯d fled because they heard the voice of an old enemy, or a grieving spouse, or a disappointed family member, emanating from the mouth of the unearthly creatures.


    ¡°I have so far seen no vocal cords. None at all,¡± said Olaf.


    ¡°As you said when you dissected the other one. You¡¯re absolutely certain, Olaf?¡±


    ¡°I am. And they also have no organs I recognize as lungs. If the Beasts can speak, they must do so by some method other than expelling air.¡± He scratched his head. ¡°And it makes me wonder how they breathe. Or if they do.¡±


    ____


    Over the next three weeks, more ships arrived from England and other parts of the Caribbean. They had all experienced the Long Night. Some spoke about major cities and towns burning as people panicked, trying to bring light back into the world any way they could. There were suicides. People flung themselves from bridges or into the rivers. Bodies floated down the Thames and the Tagus and the Rhine. And there was talk of some Disease, spoken about in hushed tones, and that the dead were sent away from London on ships because their bodies were melting into pools, made up of some ghastly liquid no naturalists or learned man could recognize.


    But, just as in the days following the many vanishings of so many in Port Royal, the sun kept rising and falling, and people did what they had always done. They adapted. Not quite forgetting, but moving on. They adjusted to the fact of a new threat that could return any day. Iron bars were added to many windows, extra locks were put on doors, and dockworkers did not go near the docks without being armed.


    But work continued. Life continued. These phenomena drove Benjamin to draw the Beasts, along with Olaf¡¯s help, and create for the Admiralty a kind of report on the anatomy and behaviours he observed during that Long Night. Those papers began to spread. A few privateers took copies from the Admiralty and carried them back to England, where Benjamin Vhingfrith¡¯s name became synonymous with other explorers and adventurer-naturalists, and not many who spoke his name knew he was half-Negro.


    He wasn¡¯t aware of this yet, because all of that was a world away, and he was dealing with the reports that many men had been found dead at Raymond Smith¡¯s plantation the night of the Cataclysm, as it was being called in England, when the Long Night fell over the whole world. Raymond Smith¡¯s family was slaughtered, his slaves escaped, many pirates and Royal Marines were found dead, some of them washing down the overflowing Rio Grande.


    There was no report of John Laurier¡¯s body being found. No report about where his Hazard might be now. And then, one night while a storm raged outside, Vhingfrith was roused by a knock at his door. He approached with pistol ready. His own footsteps caused the floorboards to creak and he thought briefly of Toby swinging from the rafters in the barn¡ª


    Upon opening the door, he found Woodes Rogers standing there with Major Halleck. ¡°We believe we¡¯ve located the Le¨®n Coronado,¡± Rogers said. ¡°She¡¯s still wounded, and lurking around Dog Island. We think she¡¯s been terribly injured by the events of the Long Night, half her crew gone mad and leapt into the water.


    ¡°But there is another matter, of even greater import. Two Spanish naos are heading towards Port Royal¡ªa packet ship came in last night, and her captain narrowly escaped the Spaniards, and he warned us: they are coming.¡±


    Vhingfrith blinked. ¡°We¡¯re to be invaded?¡±


    ¡°Looks as if, Captain. The Spanish will no doubt have experienced the Long Night, as well, and will have predicted how vulnerable that makes us, how panicked and disorganized our people will have been. The Admiralty¡¯s guess is, the Spaniards probably suspect our militia is spread too thin. I¡¯ve only one question. Will you sail with us, as we offered you before¡ªme in my Duke, and you in your Lively¡ªfirst to defend Port Royal, and then to find the Coronado?¡±


    Benjamin blinked. ¡°I¡¯m¡­I¡¯m sorry, this all so sudden, I¡¯ve barely woken up.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re sailing to find the Coronado,¡± Rogers laughed. ¡°Is this not what you wanted, old friend?¡±


    Ben licked his lips. Scratched his neck. His neck had gotten scraggly, he had not shaved since the Long Night ended, and he had had many sleepless nights thinking of John. ¡°Of course, it¡¯s what I wanted. But¡­Port Royal¡­¡±


    ¡°What about her?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s still in shambles. The people are still¡ª¡±


    ¡°Which is why we must sail out and meet them before they can get within cannon range of the harbor. The people are still getting over the Long Night. Putting it all behind them like a terrible dream. What I¡¯m offering you is reality. The Le¨®n Coronado, Captain. Yes or no?¡±


    Benjamin sighed. And paced. Then he said, ¡°I¡¯ll need to ready a crew. But I shall likely have a hard time finding one to sail with me.¡±


    Rogers smiled. ¡°I think you underestimate your new reputation in Port Royal, sir.¡±

 Chapter 25: A Dark Visitor

    ¡°run a rig¡±¨C Play a trick.


    JACK HAD BORNE the entire dreadful nightmare of the Cataclysm in her treehouse. The darkness had set upon the World as though the sky was its greatest enemy, and stars like no others yet seen had moved swiftly along with strange winds, winds that had upon them an odour of death. Jack sat in her treehouse and listened to the madness away in Port Royal, and it soon transpired that others who lived out here in the jungle in their own treehouses came down for want of food and some of them never came back.


    And all the while Jack listened, and starved. Food had already been scarce for her when the Long Night fell, and while her pickpocketing and theft and all other running of rigs had provided her with enough to get her by for a few days, nothing could have prepared her for the terrors that kept her couped up in her treehouse while the island lost its mind.


    There was something in the jungle. Or had been. Something moving through the trees and had lifeless purple eyes and that carried with it the stench of death. She had seen those eyes on occasion when she looked out her window to see if Port Royal was still there. Because it was so dark. Torches were always lit up in Port Royal, and the lamplighters made sure all the lamps were kept going until morning. But not this time. Jack reckoned they had been caught off-guard by the Long Night, just as she had been. And so rarely did she see light moving through Port Royal¡¯s streets.


    But now the sun was up¡ªthe beautiful, wonderful sun, whose Light she would never again take for granted, mark her truly¡ªand when she finally dropped her rope ladder and descended it to the jungle floor, she did so with knife in one hand, pistol in the other. She did not care who saw her carrying it, not now, not after she¡¯d heard away in Royal.


    She stalked carefully back into the alleys, then lowered her pistol when she saw others carrying on normally. No, not normally, Jack thought. Just look at them. Utterly terrified. And they ought to be. Jack saw people moving with far more pep in their step, as if anxious to get things done before nightfall. Because they no longer know how long night will last.


    With a child¡¯s simple but direct grasp on Nature and human behaviour, she understood that this was the way it was now.


    She now hid the pistol inside the satchel that hung from her side, and jogged down to the harbour. Many privateers had sailed on, and new ships had come in to anchor. She then jogged over to the Turtle Crawles and was crestfallen to see the Hazard had already sailed away. Jack had been unable to find Captain Laurier and ask him for a spot on the ship, and the rest of ships anchored there were nothing more than sad little dinghies and tartans. Nothing she could make a living on.


    Her stomach squeezed. She washed her face in a horse trough and caught a glimpse of her face in the water, her pale and etiolated face not ringing a bell, she looked like some plague had her. She felt weak and looked the part. She wandered about aimlessly, not knowing where she might go next. She tried visiting Mr. Cowert but he wasn¡¯t home and nobody knew where he was. The proprietors of the other stalls regarded her as a stray and waved her away when she begged for any coins, when they answered her at all.


    And when at last circumstances made her desperate she wandered down to the shore to search along Chocoletta Hole, and looked out across the water at the warehouses and Fort Walker that sat upon the Hook. She tried to look for a dinghy, sometimes those were left out for anyone to take for a quick fishing trip, but all the dinghies were either gone or occupied by people ready to shove off.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Jack wandered up York Street, passing Fort Morgan and St. Paul¡¯s Court. Twice did a man pinch her face and made the suggestion that ¡°a young boy could make a quick few guineas if he would be a good friend for only a few minutes,¡± and for the first time ever Jack considered it. In fact she very nearly took the men up on their offer, but some nameless and overriding principle would not permit the thought to go any further, and hours later she found herself pickpocketing again.


    It was harder now. People were more alert than ever, their paranoia having them clutching everything from their purses to their children much closer. She ran a rig on one woman, crying and pretending to mourn her dead mother. Neither the tears nor her fear were particularly false, and the woman saw her sincerity and came close, offering Jack a few guineas. ¡°My God, dear boy, you¡¯re all bones,¡± the woman said. Jack hugged the woman close and picked her purse, then thanked the woman and ran away.


    An hour later she was back in the jungle sitting in the mud beside her parents¡¯ graves, eating a leg of chicken. She knew she ought to save some for later, but her stomach would not be denied, and she devoured it all, holding the bone between shivering fingers and licking it clean like a dog. She even felt like a dog because a few of Royal¡¯s strays had found her, perhaps sensing she had scraps, or else predicting she would be dead soon.


    ____


    Jack¡¯s parents¡¯ graves were unmarked, as were most people¡¯s in Port Royal. The graveyard behind the Old Church was not large enough for everyone who lived in the harbour town, so only wealthy nobles and officers could afford to be buried there. Jack had buried her mother all by herself. It had taken her all day, and she still didn¡¯t think she¡¯d dug nearly deep enough. There were two mounds of mud side by side, because Jack had believed her father ought to have a grave, too, despite his body being lost to the sea. ¡°Shark bait,¡± his father had told her one night. ¡°That¡¯s what we call a dying man whose about to have his body tossed into the sea.¡±


    Perhaps it was grotesque to made a mound of mud and place a couple of sticks in the mud to mark a bodyless grave, she had no idea. It just did not seem right that a person was not allowed a grave just because their body was elsewhere. Just not right. So Jack made the second mound of mud right beside Mother¡¯s and sat and looked at them, pretending that her mother and father slept side by side there, as she had so rarely seen them do.


    Several strands of hemp were in her hand, and she stripped some bark away from a tree to fray it, then began weaving it all together into a line of rope. She bound them together in a whipping knot, seeing her father¡¯s rough, callused hands as they moved with preternatural elegance, next forming the constrictor knot. ¡°These¡¯re the first knots yeh want to know,¡± he told her.


    ¡°Yes, Papa,¡± she said presently. Papa was what she called him when she was small, he¡¯d asked her to call him Father when last he saw her. Because she was growing up.


    A few of the dogs that had followed her were asleep all around her. She gave them names¡ªTippy, Gracie, and Momo. Momo was some sort of small terrier, and when her ears perked up, Jack looked around. Then all three dogs leapt up and started barking at something moving in the trees. Jack stuck her hand inside her satchel and gripped the pistol, waiting. She cocked the pistol with some effort. She heard a sound like a twig snapping, and slowly stood. Out from the forest came a familiar face, it was one of the men who had offered her money to be his friend. He had a bald pate, but the hair around her crown was long and stringy. His near-toothless mouth grinned at her. They both stared at one another. The dogs were all barking.


    Jack felt utterly foolish. She had forgotten to check to see if anyone had followed her from town, and now fear replaced hunger in her gut.


    When the man charged, Jack had barely enough time to pull the pistol free and fired. The boom frightened her immensely and the smoke blinded her all at once. The lead round grazed the man¡¯s left arm and he screamed and came after her. She tried to run but he reached out and grabbed her hair and flung her to the ground facedown on top of her mother¡¯s grave. He straddled her, and pulled her breeches down and laughed while he slapped her.


    But then she felt something warm on her back, and the man leapt off of her. She rolled over, pulling her breeches up fast, and watched the man clutch his arm. She had hit him better than she thought and the wound was gushing. He said something through his mushy mouth, and staggered away, into the jungle. The dogs were still barking and chased after him a little before returning to Jack, who sat in the mud sobbing.

 Chapter 26: Oddsummers

    iron-sick ¨C In the sea language, said of a ship or a boat, when her bolts or nails are so eaten with rust that they cause hollows in the planks, rendering the vessel leaky and possibly unfit to sail.


    ¡°SHE¡¯S A THIRTY-TWO GUN war bitch, and a good fifth-rate, at least in her day,¡± said the wharfman. He looked his customer up and down. The man cut an imposing figure, a hale man with a strong, lean body and a dark raincoat. The rest of his features were passing strange, though. The tricorne hat, for one, was red and faded like an old bloodstain, and the long-beaked plague mask made him look like a man of medicine. ¡°But she¡¯s been sitting here for months, sir. She¡¯s iron-sick, and nobody¡¯s got the coin to fix what needs fixing. Though she¡¯s built sturdy, and her timbers are arranged to deal with recoil from them magnificent Menorca guns, I shouldn¡¯t want to test her, not on a journey to, eh, where did you say you were going?¡±


    ¡°Jamaica,¡± Oddsummers said, raising his voice a little to be heard through the mask. He looked up through the dense rain, at the remains of the HMS Edinburgh. Two green eyes peered through the tiny eyeholes of his plague mask, up at the dark clouds that had moved in across Bill Quay. The cold wind whipped his raincoat, but he hardly felt it. Many years at sea made him numb to it. ¡°Perhaps to Nassau.¡±


    The wharfman shook his head, and a main of grey hair nearly shook free of the toboggin pressed to his head. ¡°No, no, no. You wouldn¡¯t want to test her out that far, sir. That¡¯s, what, a month-long journey at least?¡±


    ¡°Thirty-five days, I estimate,¡± Oddsummers said.


    ¡°No, no, no, that¡¯s much too far, sir. She¡¯s iron-sick.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ve said.¡±


    ¡°And worm-eaten besides. Them red shipworms, sir, they¡¯ve made it through the planks. The wooden sheeting on her hulls needs replacing.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Someone fell on the pier behind him, spilling a whole cask of wine. A dock supervisor cursed the clumsy person for all he was worth, calling him a son of a gun, which started a shoving match. Within the plague mask, thin lips smiled.


    The docks were bustling, the wharfman had to occasionally step to one side of the pier to allow a sailor to board or disembark a ship. Oddsummers did not have to move. The crowds broke around him like he was a large stone in a river, hardly glancing at the tall, imposing figure. The beak of his plague mask had two holes along the nose for ventilation, and contained dried rose petals and carnations, as well as lavender, myrrh, and peppermint. It kept away the foul-smelling miasma of the masses around him, as well as the ill humours that were said to cause the Disease.


    The Disease was something to fear, it had already killed thousands in London, just since the Cataclysm, and even now, on this pier, Oddsummers saw yellow-faced sailors huddled amid crates, hoping some captain desperate enough for any crew would take them on. The yellow complexion was a sign they had barely survived the Disease, and their bodies were weak and often missing pieces that had had to be amputated.


    ¡°I understand there was an engineer working these docks,¡± Oddsummers said. ¡°I heard he was looking for work. Rollings was his name. Have you heard of him?¡±


    The wharfman shrugged. ¡°Fella missing an arm? Sure. But¡­well, he¡¯s missing a bloody fucking arm,¡± he laughed. ¡°So, yeh see, there¡¯s a reason he¡¯s not found work.¡±


    ¡°Find him for me, and tell him I have timbers and treenails coming from Baltic and the Colonies. The ship landed last week, and I received a letter from the wagonmasters who will be delivering them. I expect it to be no later than tomorrow. Also bolts and nails from the factory here in Newcastle. Tell him I will have a crew ready and waiting to receive his orders, two dozen skilled carpenters among them.¡±


    The wharfman stood in the rain, mouth stupidly agape. ¡°What, in this ship? Sir, I just told you¡ª¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s iron-sick, yes, so she needs work. We can work on her once we¡¯re underway. Will you relay what I¡¯ve said to Mr. Rollings or not, sir?¡±


    ¡°Er, that is, I can. I could. But I cannot in good conscience let you sail away in this! I only showed her to you in the ¡¯opes you¡¯d be one of those fellas takes old ships to the shipbreakers for me¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can pay you eight thousand guilders today, if you cease all this thumb-ticking and hand me a signed deed to this vessel.¡±


    That brought him up short. ¡°Eight thousand!¡± The wharfman scratched his head. ¡°Eight thousand? Guilders, you said? Dutch money can be hard to exchange just now¡ª¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my offer. Take it, or let this thing sit here in the wharf and rot.¡±


    The wharfman scratched at his scabbed lip. Looked the ship over once more.


    ____


    Some were calling them the Five Pillars, strange cloud formations that had come in with the storm two months ago, when the Cataclysm began. The clouds had churned like a gargantuan whirlpool in the sky, then slowed and practically calcified. But not before five finger-like shapes came down from the sky, formed by the clouds themselves, reaching halfway down from the sky to the buildings of Newcastle. Each ¡°finger¡± was unique, some of them longer than the others. The locals had given them names¡ªCrooked One for the middle finger, Lightning Jack (or Jack for short) for the one that sometimes bloomed slow-moving lightning that lit up the night sky so that it was practically day all over the city.


    His timepiece said it was seven in the morning, but Oddsummers always wound his clock to be a little fast, a mental trick to keep him on his toes. He made his next appointment close to New Gate. The imposing city gate was typically not open at this hour, as per the new rules, but there was an influx of charities the Church was taking in, and they had agreed to relieve some of the outlying settlements of their burden.


    In came a morose mass of hobbling, yellow-faced men, women, and children, most of them with the pink and runny pustules that denoted the final stages of the Disease. Oddsummers stood to one side of the road, alongside many other plague-masked doctors, all of whom probably assumed he was of their order. Yellow-skinned women walked with vacant-eyed children clutched close to them, while orphans meandered around the grownups like little moons that had lost their orbits.


    Oddsummers waited for the hundred or so doomed creatures to pass, then followed their solemn procession all the way to St. Andrew¡¯s, where two hundred more lay in piles around the steps, their rapidly dissolving bodies forming into a general sludge that reeked of ammonia and sulfur more than the usual human decay one would expect. The afflicted lived in the tents that had been arrayed around St. Andrew¡¯s, sometimes walking through the puddles of the previous tenants, which told them about the odds of their own survival.


    Nuns and volunteers who had survived the Disease were all that were allowed to attend these doomed beings. Even the survivors remained emaciated long after the affliction had gone, their flesh was drawn and etiolated, and it clung to their bones like old leather around sticks. And each of them kept their pale yellow complexion, the truest mark of the Disease.


    Oddsummers walked along with the plague doctors, insinuating himself among the dead and dying, wading through the ankle-deep remains. Bits of fingers and teeth floated in the viscous puddles, from which a tendril of unknown substance occasionally reached out to lightly touch his ankle, like a lover caressing their beloved¡¯s cheek.


    No one yet knew all the properties of the Tam, as it was called, but everyone agreed it was still alive, that the collective sludge of the dissolved remains of the Diseased somehow found communal response with the remains of others. The priests at first tried to burn the Tam¡ªthat¡¯s what Oddsummers had heard, at least¡ªbut the explosive fire had nearly destroyed half the rookeries in Newcastle. Then they had tried to haul it away in shovels, but people claimed being too close to it for too long brought on visions of their dead relatives, and drove them to commit acts of self-harm. So, in the end, it was agreed to gather all the Diseased in one area, a place of mercy and prayer, and let them die as peacefully as possible and dissolve into the soil and flow into the trench that had been dug near St. Andrew¡¯s.


    Oddsummers spotted his target easily, for he was by far the most well-dressed patient there. The man¡¯s blue waistcoat was embroidered with gold and silver threads, with sequins, with artificial gems. It was tattered at its horizontal hem, but almost slight enough to not be noticeable at a glance. The suit underneath was embroidered elegantly with pale, pastel tones, and with embroidered arches and rows of pillars reminiscent of Ancient Rome. But the man was barefoot, bent, with a strange, horrific arch to his back, like his spine was fighting to get free of him. An unusual, but not unheard-of, symptom of the doomed.


    Soon, this man would be sludge. He would be Tam.


    The other doctors fanned out. One of them spoke in low prayers as thuribles swung from chains, coils of smoke from the burning hemp creating a fog that was meant to disperse the bad humours in the air. Oddsummers broke away from the main group, and approached the man in the tattered waistcoat. A yellow-faced priest who had survived the Disease, and whose duty it was to provide last rites, stood before the well-dressed man. Oddsummers dismissed the priest with a wave of a hand. Even the priests yielded to the doctors here.


    Oddsummers found a chair, slid it through the sludge, and lowered himself into the seat, across from the well-dressed man. The fellow¡¯s grey beard had grown out in a myriad of directions, and was now falling out, piecemeal, even as Oddsummers watched. Two rheumy eyes signaled blindness was near¡ªnot a symptom of the Disease, just bad luck. ¡°Benedict Laurier?¡±


    The eyes looked up and around, straining to focus on the dark shape in front of them. Laurier winced, as though speaking caused him great pain. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± he croaked. A voice like a pebble in a tin can.


    Oddsummers looked around to be sure they were alone. No eavesdroppers. Then he stood and closed the curtain to their tent, and pulled his chair closer to Laurier and sat down again. At his feet, part of the Tam puddle reached up to touch him. Doubtless, the melted flesh of the tent¡¯s last occupant.


    ¡°Everyone here thinks I¡¯m a doctor. But I¡¯m not. I¡¯m not a priest or a caregiver of any kind. I cannot offer you solace of the body or the soul, but perhaps I can ease your mind about a thing or two.¡±


    Laurier looked like he wanted to straighten up, but the hunch on his back prevented any such acrobatics. ¡°What¡­what do you mean? What is thissshhh?¡± A frothing pink foam fell from his mouth just then.


    ¡°Your son,¡± Oddsummers said, glad to have on his plague mask. ¡°Many believe he died in Jamaica upon the Cataclysmic Day. I have reason to believe he did not. In fact, I have reason to believe he set sail for the Colonies, along with his crew of freed slaves, and has spent these months training them to become proper sailors. Proper pirates. I believe that soon now, very soon, he will unfurl a plot that he has been planning for years. He now has all the pieces he needs. And better yet, everyone thinks he¡¯s dead, so there is no longer anyone looking for him. No one ready to stop him.¡±


    Laurier¡¯s blue eyes went wide, but his mouth formed a moue of distaste. ¡°I have no son!¡±


    Oddsummers shrugged. ¡°That may be true. Certainly he was not of your blood, for it seems your wife cuckolded you. Fucked some man named Parsons, a stonemason working on your property for all of three months, the way I hear it.¡± He nodded. ¡°But you hid that fact from most. And you raised him as your own.¡±


    ¡°I have no son. Nor any adopted bastard. No children at all. Leave me.¡±


    ¡°But you do. You have many children. And one of them is John Alfred Laurier¡ª¡±


    ¡°I said leave me!¡±


    ¡°He left you ages ago, when you discovered him to be a poof.¡±


    The man turned away in his seat. Painfully. Wincing and grunting the whole way. ¡°I have no son.¡± He clutched his chest, blind eyes gazing out at nothing. ¡°I have no son! I don¡¯t know you! Now leave me!¡±


    ¡°You turned him out of your house after you confronted him about the rumours. I spoke to a former neighbour of yours, chap named Cocksedge. You are a respected man, Mr. Laurier, even now, even with all your many businesses suffering collapse. I spoke with Mr. Cocksedge, just this past week, and he had much to say in your defence; that your son¡¯s deviancy was through no fault of your own, that you insisted he go to the monastery and speak to the priests about it, that you even paid handsomely to ensure they told no one. You even tried to find him once he absconded, and tried to help him before everyone found out about his thievery. Mr. Cocksedge said he didn¡¯t know what you¡¯d done to incur the wrath of God, and had no way to account for your string of bad luck with the trading business. The East India Company really transformed all the world, did they not? A sea change, so to speak, in the way commerce is done.¡±


    One of Benedict Laurier¡¯s eyes glanced in Oddsummers¡¯s direction, trying to find him. ¡°Whoever you are¡­I am in enough pain as it is. I need¡ª¡± He broke off in a coughing fit, then vomited up a pink sludge. His insides were already turning to Tam. Oddsummers slid his chair back an inch or two. ¡°I need no reminders of my son¡¯s many transgressions, nor¡­nor how manifestly I underestimated the East India people¡ª¡± He broke off into another coughing fit, from which blood fell freely from his lips and he did nothing to stop it.


    Oddsummers reached into his coat and produced a handkerchief, and handed it to the poor fellow. ¡°Here, you can keep it. They¡¯re not only running out of beds, just everything else, I hear.¡±


    Laurier reached out with an enfeebled yellow hand and took the handkerchief and dabbed his face. All around them, outside the tent, they could hear the steady moans and coughing of others. Oddsummers felt something tugging at his boots. Looking down, he saw that the Tam had grown tendrils, and was groping at him. He kicked the tendrils away, and crossed his legs. ¡°Mr. Laurier, I can give you what you want.¡± Laurier turned to him. ¡°I know you want it. A swift death. On your way here, the minders stopped you from completing the noose. Had it all ready, didn¡¯t you, for just such an occasion? Ever since your Gloria died and you started to believe you had caught the Disease, as well. You¡¯re almost totally blind, and I imagine you wanted to make sure the noose was good and ready so you could find it easily once you had the courage.¡±


    Laurier¡¯s rheumy eyes stayed on Oddsummers. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°I want to solve a mystery. The one that surrounds John Laurier, but no one else has thought to look into. Perhaps because no one ever looked beyond the fact that he prefers to bed men. That scandal alone overshadows the other thing.¡±


    ¡°What other thing?¡±


    Behind the mask, Oddsummers smiled good-humoredly. ¡°You stand at death¡¯s door, and yet still you will not let the truth out. Mr. Laurier, let¡¯s not mince words any longer. Ten years ago, your son left the docks not too far from here, only moments after he met a man named Arthur Vhingfrith. This part I think you know, for some of your spies are the same as mine, only I can still pay them while you cannot. My spies tell me that your spies in Jamaica reported back to you, and told you all about John¡¯s sailing off with Vhingfrith, captain of the Lively, on some venture Vhingfrith was obsessed with. A venture in Porto Bello, involving the Spanish Silver Train?¡±


    The old man said nothing.


    ¡°Your spies back then told you they¡¯d heard Vhingfrith was trying to recruit people to that cause. He was thinking about doing something in Porto Bello. What was it?¡±


    The old man said nothing. He coughed more blood into his handkerchief, but never took his gaze off the plague mask¡¯s deeply pitted eyes.


    ¡°Arthur Vhingfrith had a handful of partners in those days. One of them was named Raymond Smith. Now, you don¡¯t know this next part, for it took place far from here, but Vhingfrith and Smith occasionally acted as spies for the Spanish. Double agents. They used letters of marque granted in Port Royal to chase Spanish ships back into the waters near Panam¨¢. They captured a ship called the San Antonio, and took the captain as hostage, a brave man by the name of Mirandah. But, that captain was a clever man, and offered a deal to both Vhingfrith and Smith, that should they spy on the Admiralty Court in Port Royal, and report the information back to Panam¨¢, they would receive a reward.


    ¡°They did just that. At least, those are the rumours. However, there are still other rumours that suggest Arthur Vhingfrith and Raymond Smith only entered into this venture as a means to get close to a man named Narv¨¢ez. Now, here¡¯s the interesting part. Are you listening, Mr. Laurier?¡±


    The dying man shivered like a dog in the rain, but he was focused on Oddsummers.


    ¡°Narv¨¢ez was a known spy, one of King Philip¡¯s top men. My spies tell me he knew many passphrases for getting into and out of secret ports and inlets scattered throughout the Caribbean, which, if Vhingfrith had those passphrase, could allow the Lively to travel to certain places, without any British spies in Panam¨¢ seeing them, as long as they used Spanish ports. This was what Arthur Vhingfrith and Raymond Smith wanted most of all: access to a secret cove, through which the Spanish Silver Train passes five times a year, a fleet of treasure ships that pass untold wealth through the isthmus, dump a little into the coffers of the governors of Panam¨¢, and¡ªare you listening, Mr. Laurier?¡±


    The man had broken off into more bloody coughs.


    ¡°The Silver Train takes the silver from Peru and hauls it to Spain. That was what Vhingfrith and Smith had, access to it all.¡± Oddsummers leaned forward. ¡°But now, Arthur Vhingfrith is dead, his half-Negro son commands his ship the Lively as a privateer. And Raymond Smith was killed on the very night that John Laurier went missing, and his ship slid out to sea from Jamaica and began terrorizing the Colonies.¡± Oddsummers nodded knowingly. ¡°I think your son had many reasons for going to Raymond Smith that night. I think you know, as well as I do, that he was always a crafty one. He learned a lot in hiding his deviancy from you all those years, and he learned even more as a cut-purse in the rookeries, and still more at the side of crafty old Arthur Vhingfrith, and, if rumours are to be believed, he learned a lot from old Blackbeard himself. He¡¯s a schemer, that son of yours, capable of getting many sailors to do what he wants done. I hear he¡¯s even put some of those old fencing lessons you paid for to savage use.¡±


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    Benedict Laurier¡¯s eyes shut, as if in pain.


    ¡°Your son is a murderer of many men, Mr. Laurier.¡±


    Benedict Laurier shook his head bitterly, and spat out a gob of blood into the Tam. The pool of sludge accepted his blood like an offering, making a hissing sound as it absorbed it. ¡°The world is done. We live in Hell now. God has abandoned us and now Hell is risen to live with us on Earth.¡± He coughed, wheezed, and spat. ¡°What do you want? Say it, and then grant me eternal peace.¡±


    Oddsummers thought about how best to say it.


    ¡°Your son went to Raymond Smith to free those slaves to re-crew his ship. There were no more men who wanted to sail aboard the Hazard, one of two cursed ships that first experienced this Cataclysm, the Long Nights. I asked around about the Ladyman. He made sure Raymond Smith was no longer protected by the Republic of Pirates before he killed the man and his family, took all his slaves, slew the redcoats that were sent after him, and then tortured Smith for those passphrases that would permit a man entry into Porto Bello¡¯s secret ports.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Some of this I know by fact, some of it I can guess at.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where he is,¡± Laurier lamented, tears falling from his eyes.


    ¡°Oh, I know you don¡¯t. And it doesn¡¯t matter because I happen to know where he¡¯ll be, and soon. The next fleet of the Spanish Silver Train is soon to head to Panam¨¢¡ªI have it on good authority, you see, and I know that he should be heading there very soon. Though, I won¡¯t make it in time¡ªI¡¯ve yet to fully secure a ship and a working crew of my own¡ªbut I know where he¡¯ll go after that.¡±


    ¡°You work¡­for the Spaniards?¡± Benedict wheezed.


    ¡°Better. The French. Their government is ascendant, while England and Spain are on the decline. I have been contracted by the French to find something. A lost treasure. That need never bother you. But what I need to know is, what did John say to you when he returned here two summers after he left?¡±


    Benedict looked up sharply, those rheumy eyes seeming to have lost sight of the other man in the tent. ¡°What¡­do you mean?¡± he coughed.


    ¡°Mr. Cocksedge told me. He sent one of his servants over one evening to check on your wife¡ªyour second Mrs. Laurier, who was gravely ill at the time. Cocksedge was only being neighbourly. His servant reported seeing who she thought was a woman, done up in plain white dress and bodice. Cocksedge¡¯s servant was bringing a food basket and a letter, wishing your family well. You never saw the Negress, but she saw you, in your parlour, speaking to a man in a dress, who the Negress said ¡®walked convincingly like a woman¡¯ whenever he wanted, and ¡®looked strikingly like Mr. Laurier¡¯s son.¡¯ John came back to you, didn¡¯t he Mr. Laurier? Even after all those long years, and all the cruelty you showed him.¡±


    Laurier shook his head in silence.


    ¡°The Ladyman returned to you, and I want to know what the bloody fuck he told you. Or so help me God, I¡¯ll let you slowly fall apart, watching your jaw slough off like mulch, and fall into the Tam here at my feet! I¡¯ll prolong it if I have to! Now, tell me!¡± Oddsummers stood. ¡°Tell me, what did he come back here for?¡±


    Benedict Laurier hesitated a moment, his vacant eyes searching the far side of the tent, as if consulting an angel sitting there. ¡°What are you? Some kind of pirate hunter?¡±


    ¡°I am many things. Sort of an investigator, a hunter, but also a captain with a ship, and friends who owe me favours in every port. I have need to find your son, Mr. Laurier.¡±


    ¡°Will¡­will you kill him?¡±


    Oddsummers nodded. ¡°I imagine it will come to that, eventually.¡±


    Benedict Laurier hesitated a moment longer. Then he spoke. He spoke for a long while. Moments after, Oddsummers thanked him, produced a dagger, and released him from his pain. He opened the tent flap and exited the camp, pushing aside the throngs of dying, who writhed as waterfalls of Tam came trickling down, down, down the steps of St. Andrew¡¯s.


    He looked around. When no one was watching, he produced two thin glass vials, and knelt. He uncorked the vials and scooped up some of the Tam, the bits that seemed most active with freshly-growing tendrils. Then he recorked the vials and replaced them in his inner coat pocket.


    The Five Pillars were still out. The giant clouds had not changed shape. Belardino Oddsummers sent a prayer up to Holda and Venus, that they might keep him and protect him on his journey.


    He headed down Avery Street. There he would find his next target.


    ____


    Oddsummers moved down through the streets of the Avery Street rookery. Four- and five-story buildings leaned on one another like drunkards needing support from their drinking mates. Hardly an alley was wide enough for two people to walk abreast. He was looking for 118.


    Two baying dogs chased a thief straight across his path, their owners, a group of watchmen, in close pursuit and blowing whistles. Oddsummers stood to one side and let thief and pursuers pass. The tumult of unbathed bodies moved without order, each of them draped in the same filthy, odor-soaked dross they¡¯d worn the day before. Mangy stray dogs flitted from alley to wagon and back to alley. There were some puddles of Tam collecting from a wheelbarrow that had been filled with Diseased, their bodies never delivered to St. Andrew¡¯s, for the wheelbarrow-pusher had died himself, and lay disintegrating, merging into the cobblestone street. People simultaneously ignored the scene and steered clear of his Tam puddle.


    Along the riverside docks, bodies of the Diseased were piling high¡ªthe thought being that when some of them finally began to dissolve into Tam, it would just run into the river, and thence into the sea. The smell was acrid and stomach-churning, even above the herbal scents floating within his mask.


    Oddsummers passed a soothsayer in the street, an old witch with yellow flesh, a Disease survivor, who had cups of Tam fixed on a table. She smeared the substance all over her hands, to the curiosity of gaping onlookers, and claimed to scry the future with it.


    He shook his head and chuckled to himself. The false cults were spreading. It seemed there was no end to delusion and human ingenuity, the two could conspire to turn any tragedy into a lucrative enterprise.


    When he came to 117 Avery Street, he climbed the scaffolding that had once been used by workers to repair the apartments, but were now sort of left in place for a fire escape. He passed open windows where children huddled in vacant-eyed clusters around mothers stirring hard bread in water, and where men argued with their mothers or wives, or else slept off the previous night¡¯s stupor.


    At the rooftop, he walked the long wooden planks to the neighbouring building, 118. Then he opened the trapdoor on the roof and descended a dark stairwell. He entered the third floor, and rapt once on a door as nondescript as the others. The door opened a smidge, then more, revealing the red-haired woman within. She wore a tunic that at some distant remove had been beige or white, but was now blackened by soot and sweat. ¡°Venus keep you,¡± she said.


    ¡°And Diana protect you,¡± said Oddsummers, entering.


    The witch¡¯s apothecary looked as good as any you would find on the street. Candleflame burned the bottoms of several metal flasks, and a few elixirs bubbled lightly in small iron cauldrons. The curtains were drawn, but the windows were all cracked to let out the hideous aroma, which was so oppressive Oddsummers had to add more pleasant-smelling herbs to his mask.


    ¡°I told the magi I could only help if you could provide something for the Work.¡± She picked up a stick of sorghum and stirred a boiling pot. ¡°I dunna take coin as payment.¡±


    Oddsummers nodded. ¡°I understand, ursula.¡± She was benandanti, same as he, part of the cult of shamanistic researchers that had emerged in Italy two hundred years prior, somewhere in the Friuli district if the histories were right. The Church had persecuted them for decades, believing most of their order to be dead or defunct, especially after the torture of Thiess, the Shapeshifter, a quarter of a century ago. The benandanti, translating to ¡°good walkers,¡± were witches that believed themselves to be in constant battle with the dark forces of the malandanti, malevolent witches and demons. As far as they were concerned, the Cataclysm supported every claim they¡¯d ever had about the attempts by evil creatures from the Unknowable Abyss to destroy this world.


    ¡°Then if you dunna have coin, what have you brought?¡± asked the ursula.


    Oddsummers reached into his pocket, and pulled out a vial. ¡°Fresh Tam, ursula, made of many comingled dead. Very fresh, too¡ªI just came from St. Andrew¡¯s. I believe the rumour is that this creates the Spark?¡±


    The woman stopped stirring, rushed over, and snatched the vial and shook it and held it up to candlelight. She saw the tendrils trying to form within, and smiled a half-toothless smile.


    ¡°Will it work?¡±


    The ursula moved wordlessly over to a copper bowl, poured in a drop of Tam, then lifted a candle and lowered it slowly until its flame licked the sludge. The flame almost seemed to reach out to the Tam, in yearning. Tendrils and flame went towards one another like lovers, and when they touched, there were three or four loud pops and several brilliant white sparks dancing. The ursula leapt back and cackled.


    ¡°Well?¡± said Oddsummers.


    ¡°Did you know the Catholics are gathering this stuff up by the barrel?¡± she said, setting the vial lovingly onto a satin cloth. ¡°Word is, the East India Company¡¯s got a mind of how to use it. Better¡¯n whale oil, they say. And it doesn¡¯t burn away upon combustion!¡±


    Oddsummers nodded. His role for the benandanti was not as a thinker or maker, but as a seeker. They told him what to hunt, and he hunted it. Everyone had a part to play in the Work, and he played his. ¡°There¡¯s more. Loads more. If you can get people down to St. Andrew¡¯s, volunteering as doctors¡ªlong as they know the risks, being that close to Tam and the Diseased.¡±


    ¡°You risked it,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m sure others will, long as they take the proper precautions.¡±


    Oddsummers removed a glove, and rolled up the sleeve, revealing pale-yellow flesh. ¡°I risked it because I¡¯ve already survived it,¡± he said. The ursula moved a candle over his arm with wide-eyed intrigue, but Oddsummers robbed her of further research by putting his glove back on. ¡°You have your payment now. So, where is it?¡±


    The woman nodded slowly, thoughtfully, then moved over to an armoire and opened the bottom drawer. ¡°What do you think¡¯s causing it?¡±


    He needn¡¯t ask what she meant. ¡°I have no thoughts on it. The Cataclysm is upon us, and yet the World has not ended. So, we are not in the End of Days. Not yet.¡±


    ¡°I have heard strange accusations being made,¡± she said, rummaging through the drawer. ¡°The Catholics are blaming this horror on some men in the Colonies trying to harness lightning, using some sort of ¡®heretical rods.¡¯ Strange devices that conduct lightning. The Church says it may ¡®interfere with the artillery of Heaven¡¯ and ¡®deprives God of using lightning as the tokens of His displeasure.¡¯¡± She laughed. ¡°I have also heard of some snake cult in Greece that is being blamed, and some strange tribal rituals in Turkey. I¡¯ve also heard it is perhaps a confluence of these things, a break in the natural order caused by blasphemies of too much magnitude.¡± The ursula sighed. ¡°And then there¡¯s Woodes Rogers, with his fucking firmament.¡± She gestured west, vaguely towards the Caribbean.


    ¡°Rogers is no great philosopher,¡± Oddsummers said.


    ¡°But the papers he¡¯s written, they¡¯ve attracted no small amount of attention. Apparently, he got this notion of a ¡®firmament¡¯ from a privateer captain of some repute. Vhing-something or other.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°A clever man quoting a cleverer man and taking credit. Not unheard of. And his name is Vhingfrith, by the way. He¡¯s the one coined the term. The firmament.¡±


    The woman rummaged a moment longer, cursed to herself, before finally removing the ceramic flask. She smashed it against a table, shattering it, and then from the remains pulled out a cloth, upon which was both a rubbing and an inked series of symbols. Seventeen rows of them. ¡°There it is,¡± she said, handing it over to him. ¡°Passed on from one of our people in Paris. A good ursula herself, she¡¯s working on applications of Spark. Says under the right conditions Tam can be made to induce vapours in the air to turn to flame! Says some Tam was accidentally spilt near a cemetery in Sweden, and that night some folk saw two men and a woman rise from their graves.¡±


    Oddsummers looked skeptical, but the ursula probably couldn¡¯t tell it behind the mask.


    ¡°It happened again, they say, in King Charles¡¯s Court. They say a few holy men were present to witness the miracle. Tam was sprinkled over the bodies of a recently deceased child and it began to cry. The Swedes call such things dr¨¹r, the Armenians call them zombi, and the Spanish¡ª¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t say.¡± Oddsummers nodded disinterestedly and took the cloth from her. ¡°These are the most accurate? You¡¯re certain?¡±


    The witch nodded. ¡°She has never lied to me.¡±


    ____


    Samuel Rollings was indeed a fair engineer. The poor man had lost his arm due to forcing the ship¡¯s surgeon at gunpoint to cut off his Disease-afflicted arm while out at sea. Parts of his face and chest bore the pale-yellow mark of a former Diseased, but overall he seemed less etiolated than most survivors. Perhaps the amputation had worked. Rollings sat across from Oddsummers in a nameless tavern by the wharf, looking bitter.


    While rain came down in sheets, they talked idly about how this would work.


    ¡°You want to use an entire crew of former Diseased?¡± Rollings said slowly.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Many reasons. First of all, they¡¯re cheap. Secondly, they will be both eager and grateful for the job¡ªanything to get away from land, where they are often seen as somehow cursed. Third, the harbour masters will be glad to have the afflicted removed from public display, and may even help with stocking up on food and supplies to see it done. Fourth, if we run up the yellow-jack flag while at sea, people will know we¡¯re a plague ship, and should they look at us through spyglass, they will see a crew of yellow-fleshed Diseased¡ªand who the bloody fuck wants to board a ship covered in the Disease? No offence. That takes care of both pirates and Spanish blockades. And finally, once out to sea, our crew will likely wish to stay there, with their new family, a crew that knows what it¡¯s like to be marked by the Disease.¡±


    Rollings winced. ¡°In other words, men who have no reason to return to England? Men sharing in their miseries?¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡± Oddsummers reached across the table. ¡°Do we have a deal?¡±


    Rollings took a last swig of grog. Then he shook Oddsummers¡¯s hand. ¡°They say you¡¯re him. You¡¯re ¡®The Villain.¡¯ Never has a man killed more of his own countrymen than you.¡±


    Behind the mask, Oddsummers smirked. ¡°That¡¯s what they say, do they?¡±


    ____


    Upon the signing of the documents next morning, the HMS Edinburgh was his. Belardino Oddsummers stood before the wharfman in a small shack by the dock. He removed his plague mask, provided information that said he was Hermann Blakely, and used his false papers to lay claim to the ship. The eight thousand guilders were counted by the wharfman¡¯s accountant, who eyed Oddsummers the whole time and whispered occasionally to the wharfman conspiratorially.


    The wharfman at last came over to Oddsummers, looking sheepish and afraid, and as he handed over the deed, he said, ¡°My accountant¡­he believes he¡¯s seen a drawing of your face before. Very particular features, he says. Excuse me, sir, but are you¡­Belardino Oddsummers?¡±


    ¡°I am he,¡± he said, rolling up the deed and tucking it inside his coat. He pulled the mask back on. ¡°I am The Villain. Are you afraid?¡±


    ¡°I¡­no. No, sir. But¡­you are wanted for treason.¡±


    ¡°And why do you think I did not use my true name?¡±


    ¡°But, sir, surely you know that as soon as you leave this wharf¡ª¡±


    ¡°I was in need of a new ship. My last one was attacked and foundered not too far from here, as you might¡¯ve heard, by an English privateer.¡±


    ¡°I had heard, yes.¡±


    Oddsummers nodded. ¡°Well, there you have it. I hope this does not weigh on your conscience too much, my friend. Trust me, all I need the Edinburgh for is to sail hard for the Caribbean. If all goes well, I shall never target an English ship.¡± He clapped the man on the shoulder companionably. ¡°I wish it had not come to this.¡± He unsheathed his blade, gutted both the wharfman and his accountant, then reclaimed his eight thousand guilders and walked out to show his deed to the dockmaster and arranged a date for shoving off.


    ____


    He stood in the apothecary, looking over an array of books. The shelves were stacked tight with the kinds of books he had come for: Northcote¡¯s Marine Practice, Grant¡¯s Complete Anatomy, Hulme¡¯s Libellus de Natura, and last, but certainly not least, Lind¡¯s Effectual Means on Preserving the Health of Seamen.


    ¡°Hoping to find something in there for the Tam?¡± a voice said.


    Oddsummers looked around and found the shopkeeper limping over. ¡°Pardon, what?¡±


    The shopkeeper pointed to the books in his hand. ¡°The mask, the books, I assume you are trying to help with the Disease. Hoping to find some truth in nautical health books?¡±


    ¡°I will be taking a voyage soon. No surgeon. I have some small skill with a saw and a square-retractor, but not much experience. I planned on taking the words of wiser physicians with me.¡±


    ¡°Where are you sailing to?¡±


    ¡°The Caribbean. And elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll want Abernathy¡¯s word on physic, then,¡± the shopkeeper said, climbing a short ladder to remove a large, dusty tome from the top shelf. ¡°Lots of natural medicines to be found on the islands where the Caribs live, if you make friendly with them, that is. Abernathy¡¯s got advice on that, too. Advice on what sort of gifts the Carib tribe leaders prefer.¡±


    Oddsummers thumbed through the book, then tossed ten shillings on the countertop and said, ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Will you be needing anything else, sir? A man in need of medical books may need medical instruments. Tenaculums, trocars, ball-scoops?¡±


    ¡°As it happens, I do. Do you know of any shop around selling such items?¡±


    ¡°Not thirty steps away. Just take a left outside my door. I know the man himself. Name¡¯s Lindsey. An honest businessman, and no doubt. And his sister is a chemist, so if you need drams of silver for your voyage, she¡¯s the one.¡±


    ¡°Thank you again.¡±


    The shopkeeper bowed slightly. ¡°Servant, sir.¡±


    Oddsummers took the books in a leather case and left with the tip of his hat.


    ____


    Nine years prior to the date when Captain Belardino Oddsummers set sail upon the Edinburgh, the Act of Union was passed by Parliament, merging the kingdoms of England and Scotland into the Kingdom of Great Britain, which also merged their two navies. Two major fifth-rate ships were brought over from Scotland, one renamed Glasgow, and the other renamed Edinburgh. Edinburgh was meant to be sunk as a breakwater¡ªa permanent structure constructed in coastal areas to protect against tides, waves, currents, and storm surges. But at the last moment, a stroke of a pen by an admiral happened to re-task the Edinburgh as a cargo ship for the East India Company¡¯s branch in Newcastle-upon-Tyne.


    She was used once or twice in fending off pirates, and then sent to battle Spanish patrols in the Indian Ocean, and again in the Caribbean before being sent back to England, where she was passed around from captain to captain, lost in shuffles of paperwork, forgotten over time as bigger ships became the main celebrity, and wound up back at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, slowly wasting away.


    Who knew all the steps that led to her being here, now, taken by a traitor whose given name was Italian, though he himself wasn¡¯t Italian, and whose surname had been Oldsummer, but, due to an accident at Port Registry ages ago, had him as Oddsummers? The Villain imagined Edinburgh¡¯s story was as complex as his own, with equal parts monumental events and humdrum coincidences.


    ¡°Weigh anchor, Mr. Bainbridge,¡± Oddsummers said to his new first mate.


    ¡°Aye, thirr,¡± Bainbridge slurred. He had a permanently bent back and crooked jaw. ¡°Shall I tell Corbin to thett a corth?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Tell him sou¡¯sou¡¯west. Tell the men all sheets free. Let¡¯s open her up and see how she flies.¡±


    ¡°Aye, thirr.¡± Bainbridge hobbled off to shout the order.


    Oddsummers leaned against the quarterdeck railing, looking at his monstrous crewmen haul rope and saul, moving on the braces to back the foretopsail. He took out the cloth the ursula had given him, upon which was Olivier Levasseur¡¯s supposed cryptogram. A fresh copy, fully completed. He ran his fingers delicately around its edges, imagining the three hundred million pounds of treasure stacked high in some cave, or buried underneath the sands of some small, remote island.


    And he wondered if he was right about the role John Laurier could play in his plan.


    They left the Five Fingers behind. Oddsummers looked back at the docks, where he saw two whaling ships setting out to sea, loaded down with barrels of Tam. Rumour had it, the substance grew and expanded, without cause, without limitations. Burning it only brought fire and ruin. Burying Tam spoiled the soil. And so the whalers were paid to take barrels of the stuff out to sea and dump it.


    The Catholics are collecting it as a replacement for oil, England¡¯s leadership is tossing it away out of fear. How many more of us can die of the Disease and be fed into the ocean as Tam, or used to light a lamp? What effect will that have on Nature? The benandanti prioritized the Natural Order above all things, and whatever was happening now disturbed even a mere seeker like him. It¡¯s more than just the unnaturalness. Passing through the firmament¡ªit is reshaping the way we live.


    Then he looked up at the dark sky. The clouds all around the Five Fingers were slowly parting, showing the rising sun. His hands touched the railing. He bent down and kissed it. ¡°The wharfman said you are iron-sick. Said you weren¡¯t fit to sail. But I think you can do anything, kill anyone. I think you can kill the Devil, sail us to the Caribbean, then to the Indian Ocean, to Levasseur¡¯s treasure, and to glory. They cast you aside as breakwater. They did the same to me. Let¡¯s show them all, you and I, eh? Let¡¯s bend England over the rail and fuck her up the ass. Let¡¯s you and me do that, Edinburgh.¡±


    As though responding to the goading, the ship surged. All sheets bloomed in the wind and the cut-water cleaved dark waters, in which swam dark creatures born of the firmament.


    The firmament, he thought, looking astern at the swift-rising sun. The firmament¡­


    It had been three months since the Cataclysm reshaped the world and its geopolitics. Three months since John Laurier went missing, and left his supposed lover, Benjamin Vhingfrith, alone in Jamaica. Rumour was, England had since decided to embrace the Devil¡¯s Son, use him to battle pirates and Spaniards in the Caribbean. But it was his relationship with Cartera, a man some called Munt, that had placed Vhingfrith, and perhaps Laurier, directly in Oddsummers¡¯s sights. The firmament may have changed much, but it had not changed the world so much that his own priorities had shifted. French Intelligence said Munt was said to have Levasseur¡¯s true cryptogram, and had ordered that he and his associates must not gain the momentum needed to find what the French could not. Oddsummers was tasked with making certain of that.


    But Oddsummers had somewhat different plants. And like any hunter, he must know his game well. He must know it better than it knew itself. And Benedict Laurier had provided Oddsummers with a vital clue.


    He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the second vial that he¡¯d taken from St. Andrew¡¯s. He shook it. It turned many shades of pink, and even appeared to glow a moment before simmering down.

 Chapter 27: The Deception at Porto Bello

    dog-watches ¨C Half watches of two hours each.


    IT WAS A little past noon when Sargento Agust¨ªn Escajeda spotted the white sail on the horizon, and rang the bell twice to alert the men higher up the fort walls. Escajeda stood on the balcony of the fort¡¯s second level. He paid the incoming ship no other mind, it was out of his hands for the moment as he continued to scan the horizon with his spyglass. He saw no other sails on the horizon. It was passing strange that a three-master ought to be coming into port on its own, when no shipments were scheduled for the week. Still, there was any number of reasons why a ship might be coming in from the sea unannounced, not the least of which was that they were lost.


    Escajeda shifted his halberd, which he carried as a display of his rank as sergeant, to his right shoulder, and rang a second bell, this time in a pattern that alerted the squad of ten men down on the beach to deploy to the docks and be ready in case the ship came into their tiny cove. He could see the soldiers down below, so tiny they were almost like ants, rapidly grabbing their muskets off the racks and assembling in a line. They were easily spotted in their pure-white uniforms, somewhat stained brown from so much time in the sand.


    From his tower, Escajeda scanned the horizon one more time. No other ships emerged. He looked through his spyglass at the incoming vessel, and tensed a little when the ship slowly began to reel in its sails and dropped anchor half a mile out. The ship heeled and turned, momentarily showing its gunports, thankfully shuttered¡ªnot that they would have been able to reach at this range¡ªand then he saw its transom, a more curved shape than a Spanish vessel. And its escutcheon, where the vessel¡¯s name was written, only confirmed it.


    He rang six bells in a pattern that relayed to the squad at the docks that the ship was of English design. That didn¡¯t mean she was English, she might be recently captured by Spanish or French, but Escajeda thought it unlikely because he saw no damage whatsoever.


    Escajeda looked through the spyglass and tried to make out the ship¡¯s name. Looked to be Elizabeth.


    Three huge longboats were dropped into the water, and the Elizabeth¡¯s crew rowed casually to shore. Escajeda moved his spyglass between the boats, the ship, and the docks. On the ship, all the men appeared dressed in tunics with red handkerchiefs wrapping their heads. So, privateers then. There was a mix of whites and blacks, which wasn¡¯t uncommon. What was uncommon, however, was that one of the three longboats carried a woman. She sat at the stern of the rear boat, parasol blocking a midday sun. She appeared of slender form, in a white dress with blue embroidery, and she wore a wide-brimmed berg¨¨re hat that Escajeda¡¯s wife had told him was fashionable in Paris¡ªhis wife wanted one herself, and had asked on several occasions.


    That was passing strange. He understood that the English often felt a woman on a ship brought bad luck. Many Spaniards felt the same way, but certainly the English were even more superstitious about such things¡ªfor instance, they wouldn¡¯t have bananas on board because those brought bad luck, and they wouldn¡¯t have more than three cats on board because that also brought bad luck.


    If Agust¨ªn Escajeda thought anything else about the scene, it was that these English had foolishly sailed into unfriendly waters, and if there was anything amiss, his senses didn¡¯t detect it. Their cove was kept off most charts, and therefore secret. The fort itself was made to look old and disused, the docks around the inlet built to look abandoned or occupied by poor fishermen. He surmised these English had gotten lost in some storm, and now thought they¡¯d found some sort of refuge. They couldn¡¯t be more wrong. If Capit¨¢n Del Campo didn¡¯t like the cut of their jib, these people might be tossed into the dungeons in the hills behind the fort, and never leave this place again.


    ____


    Capit¨¢n Santiago Andres Del Campo stood at the edge of the dock, waiting with erect posture, thumbs in his belt, and with nine armed men behind him. Their rifle stocks were tucked firmly in their shoulders, ready to aim, but at present their barrels were pointed at the water. Del Campo himself carried no rifle, but wore a brace of pistols. Upon seeing the boats, he had the dockworkers clear off a pair of feluccas to admit their guests.


    Behind him, rising high above the beach, were the five tiered levels of Bateria de la Lanza, a fort of uncommon power and secrecy. Each level of the fort was like the steps of a giant staircase, each with a clear view of the inlet, and watched by a regiment of thirty men and cannoneers whose battery faced the sea. The fort was made to look disused, but all men were under arms, with cannons ready and rifles primed, prepared to deal with the potential threat.


    Del Campo was an even-tempered man, with nearly twenty years in service, almost all of it in Porto Bello, which had hardened him to the travails of blundering sailors that came into Cuervo Cove¡ªfor it had happened quite a few times over the years¡ªand he stood ready to detain, arrest, or even shoot the newcomers if they so much as flinched the wrong way. The secrecy of Bateria de la Lanza must be preserved at all cost.


    So far, the incoming boats and their crews appeared ordinary. But then the two boats at the front moved towards the dock, leaving Del Campo a full view of the third boat at the rear and the radiant beauty that sat at the stern, while twelve sweating sailors rowed her in. The white-and-blue parasol matched the embroidery patterns of her dress, and she kept it low, every so often dipping it so that it covered her eyes. Her mouth she covered with a kerchief. Doubtless, she had been kept in a special cabin while aboard the Elizabeth, to prevent her distracting the men. Likely, she wasn¡¯t used to their odour, their vulgar language, their raunchy behaviour.


    ¡°Boat your oars,¡± called a man on the first boat. A short but stout man, with long, black, stringy hair. His mangy scalp had random bald, pink patches. The men on each boat pulled in their oars. They were all badly sunburned, skins red as paint. Except for the woman. The woman at the back raked her eyes across the Spanish dockworkers, and for a moment Del Campo caught a look of fright in her expression.


    Part of him was already taken by her pale skin, her dainty features, few as he could spot from here, for she still held the parasol and covered her lips and nose with the kerchief.


    Del Campo unconsciously squared his shoulders, and turned his chin up in a haughty expression of masculine authority. He moved quickly to the boats, and stood at the edge of the dock, looking down on them. All of them looked beleaguered and bedraggled, but as far as he could see they had no sign of the yellow flesh¡ªthey were not struck by the Disease that was said to plague England. ¡°Who is the captain here?¡± he said. The Spanish Army insisted its high-ranks learn English and Dutch for the sake of trade, warnings, and interrogations.


    ¡°That¡¯d be me,¡± said the short fellow with stringy hair. ¡°Hello¡­er, hola, Captain. It is Captain, isn¡¯t it? If I¡¯ve got my ranks right.¡± He gestured at the golden buttons on Del Campo¡¯s jacket.


    ¡°You have it right. What is your name?¡±


    ¡°Captain Bonnehill, sir. David Bonnehill. And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?¡±


    ¡°Capit¨¢n Del Campo of Guarda del Rey.¡±


    Bonnehill brightened. ¡°Viejos? The King¡¯s Guard!¡±


    Del Campo suppressed a smile of surprise and pride. He did not expect a merchantman or privateer (whichever these belonged to) to recognize what it meant. He¡¯d only said it perfunctorily, as a matter of establishing the power balance. ¡°Indeed, Captain,¡± he replied. Del Campo¡¯s eyes moved carefully over the other sailors, and flitted momentarily to the woman at the back of the third boat. She stared at him a moment, then sheepishly looked away. Something stirred in him, and it did not escape his notice that his own men were gazing in her direction. Porto Bello had its courtesans and twice a month these men were allowed to go and spend their money however they liked in the many insalubrious hotels that were inland, but no courtesan in Porto Bello dressed like that. Not one could.


    ¡°May we come ashore?¡±


    Del Campo looked back at the little Englishman. He nodded to two of his riflemen, who extended hands to help Captain Bonnehill out of the boat and onto the dock.


    ¡°How did you come here? And why is your ship docked at the entrance to our cove?¡± asked Del Campo, trying to keep his stubborn eyes from looking at the pale beauty. He could see now she had golden locks, which fell from underneath her wide-brimmed hat, with ribbons and all. And now that the breeze was coming in, he thought he caught her perfume above all the malodourous sailors. Cherry blossoms and honey.


    Bonnehill sighed, wiped his brow, and pointed out to his ship. ¡°Well, that¡¯s the embarrassing thing, Captain. We was blown off course¡ªway off course, by the look o¡¯ this place, because I ne¡¯er saw it on any map o¡¯ mine. Hoo!¡± He laughed. ¡°Odd place yeh got here. Ne¡¯er seen a fort like it, faith. We was on a trading expedition. East India Company. Got the papers here,¡± he said offhandedly, pulling them from his inside coat pocket and handing the tattered clump of papers over for inspection. ¡°But, God¡¯s wrath, didna think we¡¯d wound up near the Spanish Main. That is what this place is, isn¡¯t it? Someplace along the Main?¡±


    Del Campo briefly scanned the papers, then handed them to a junior officer behind him for further inspection. ¡°You are in Panam¨¢, sir.¡±


    ¡°What, Porto Bello?¡± Captain Bonnehill looked skeptical. ¡°Nah, now you¡¯re just joshing me!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, Captain.¡±


    Now Bonnehill looked furious, even frightened. ¡°Well that puts us eight hundred miles from where we was supposed to¡ªGod¡¯s wrath!¡± He pulled off his gloves and flung them into the sea, which shocked Del Campo with its lack of decorum. ¡°Then we as good as lost this contract. Good as lost. Fuck!¡±


    ¡°Might I ask, what is it that you are transporting? Please, do not lie or omit anything, for we will soon find out anyway.¡±


    ¡°What? Oh, no, Captain. Why would I lie? I¡¯ve only¡­that is¡­¡± Bonnehill suddenly drifted off, then looked around at Bateria de la Lanza with renewed interest. He licked his lips and said, ¡°Is¡­is there any way¡­¡±


    ¡°Any way to what, Captain?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been at sea almost a year, Captain Del Campo. A year. And Miss Julia o¡¯er there, she was meant to be in Port Royal five months ago. Her father most like believes she¡¯s dead by now. It¡¯s had her¡­most distressed.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Del Campo¡¯s eyes drifted over to the woman.


    ¡°She¡¯s been seasick for so long¡­she swore once she found land, she would ne¡¯er leave it again. I canna leave her here, but¡­ah, you know women. She was desirous of some sturdy ground, at least for a night or two. So I let her come ashore¡ªbut perhaps that was unwise. A fort, all these soldiers, all these men¡­¡±


    ¡°My men are honourable, Captain Bonnehill. I assure you, if she comes ashore, she will be not be molested. If I have to, I would keep her safe in my personal quarters, while I slept elsewhere. We are gentlemen here, sir.¡±


    The Englishman brightened again. ¡°Well, that would be mighty kind o¡¯ yeh, Captain. Mighty kind.¡±


    ¡°You did not answer my question. What are you carrying?¡±


    Bonnehill scratched at his head. ¡°Well, truth be told, our mission was manifold. Deliver the lady to her father, a man what works for East India, over in Port Royal. Also, we had spices and tobacco aplenty, so much we was overflowin¡¯ with it, and kept barrels on our top deck. But we had to shift it around on deck when a ripe storm came, and much of it was washed overboard. And then the twelve-pounders, they were supposed to be a gift to an English privateer from a nobleman, and we were meant to get a bonus for that. More¡¯s the pity. But soon we will¡ª¡±


    ¡°Twelve-pounders?¡± said Del Campo, his interest suddenly piqued. ¡°Did you say¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. Powerful things. Made in Menorca. Never once fired.¡±


    Del Campo thought surely he was hearing this wrong. ¡°Menorcans?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How many?¡±


    ¡°Two.¡±


    ¡°You have two Menorca-made English twelve-pounder cannons on your ship?¡±


    ¡°We do,¡± said Bonnehill. ¡°Fastened on stern and bow, for there wasn¡¯t anywhere else to put ¡¯em. Big bastards, they are. Their extra weight is likely what made our Elizabeth so difficult to steer in that storm.¡±


    Del Campo maintained his composure, but now his attention was solely focused on the Elizabeth, anchored right here in their harbour, their tiny little inlet of Cuervo Cove. He almost wanted to laugh. Delivered straight to us, by God¡¯s will alone. This poor little man and his pitiful little crew, they have no idea what they¡¯ve just let slip.


    English cannons were the superior weapon in naval warfare, astonishingly powerful and with the greatest range. Those made in Menorca were renowned for their consistency, ease-of-use, and being remarkably easy to clean, which was vital to any powerful cannon. Spain had managed to defeat many English ships, but it was exceedingly difficult to take them a prize, so they usually sank, making it impossible to recover their cannons. Some ships had been taken a prize, but without the factories on Menorca it was impossible to create identical copies. Spain had resorted to stealing whatever they could from the Royal Navy, to try and shore up their defences throughout this part of the world. Menorcans would be an exceptional thing to have for any fort.


    Del Campo¡¯s eyes drifted from the Elizabeth, over to the woman, ¡°Miss Julia¡± is what Bonnehill called her, and he thought, Delivered right into my hands. Del Campo could no longer suppress a smile.


    That¡¯s when Captain Bonnehill surprised him again, by stepping up beside him and whispering, ¡°Un sorbo de vino es todo lo que necesito para superar est mal tiempo.¡± Then he looked at Del Campo and nodded seriously.


    Del Campo¡¯s ability to mask his surprise would have been commendable to his superiors, and he looked down at the Englishman and whispered, ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Did I say it right? Hope so. A friend of Narv¨¢ez told me¡ª¡±


    ¡°You said it correctly, se?or. Narv¨¢ez, you said?¡±


    Bonnehill nodded in a way that indicated they ought to step away from the docks, away from the boats, away from Miss Julia. Del Campo followed his lead. Bonnehill spoke in a tone of confidence, ¡°I must speak quickly, so that my men do not suspect. We was not blown off course¡ªthat is, we did experience a storm, but it was a convenient excuse for me to get us ¡®lost¡¯¡ªwhen in fact I had planned to come here, Captain Del Campo.¡±


    Del Campo winced. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°My crew doesn¡¯t know it, but our arriving here was no accident.¡±


    Del Campo cocked his head suspiciously, one hand touching a pistol.


    Bonnehill hastened to add, ¡°I knew exactly where this place was. The truth is, I was hired by East India Company to do all those things, and Miss Julia is indeed wanted in Port Royal by her father, but after I took the contract, your people in Madagascar found me at port.¡± He looked Del Campo in the eye. ¡°I¡¯ve led them all here. It¡¯s all yours if you want. Yeh c¡¯n even have the bloody ship, I don¡¯t care, she¡¯s not mine, I was only chartered to captain her. But I have debts back home, and I was assured by your people that handing this prize over, here, in Cuervo Cove, that I could find a reward, and a new life, in Porto Bello.¡±


    Del Campo could not have been more shocked if Bonnehill had slapped him.


    Bonnehill said, ¡°I know people in Port Royal that work for you Spaniards. Spies you keep there. They speak of a, eh¡­una recompensa ro amigas.¡±


    Del Campo smiled softly. ¡°A reward between friends.¡± It had started out as an innocuous phrase spoken between business partners, but over the years had become the phrase most often used when Spain¡¯s intelligence officers tried to guarantee the safety of any person willing to betray England in service to Spain. And Spain tried never to go against that promise, lest word get out that Spain did not honour its promises to loyal spies. ¡°I understand completely, Captain Bonnehill.¡±


    ¡°Then we have a deal? Yeh c¡¯n have it all, and I get what it would be worth as a prize?¡±


    ¡°I believe we can find an accord.¡±


    But even as he said it, Del Campo was looking for the trap. He had never been a fool. Indeed, he had sniffed out two moles in his own regiment over the years, and knew how wily England could be. Still, he could see no downside here, not if the cannons and cargo were all inspected and found to be in order. And that was no problem at all to check. ¡°I will send out a small group of my men to inspect your Elizabeth.¡±


    Bonnehill nodded eagerly. ¡°Thankee, Captain. But I must press¡ªdo not take the ship outright. You are outnumbered on the ship¡ªmostly Africans, but they are fearsome fighters and not keen on Spaniards, for that is who their former masters were. I would¡¯ve preferred any sailors besides Negroes, but they was all I had to work with when I set sail. They keep a tight ship, though, maintain dog-watches and never miss a shift change.¡± He nodded grimly. ¡°I suggest yeh send out a small party, as yeh said, to occupy it. Men who are doctors, ostensibly to attend to some of our sick and hungry. Make them all think yeh¡¯re welcoming. Slowly, we can get some o¡¯ the crew to come away for some shore leave. It¡¯ll be easier to take the ship that way.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Captain, but I have done this sort of thing before.¡± But not quite like this, Del Campo thought, looking at an English sloop-of-war that had just been delivered straight to his doorstep, with more treasures than he could have ever hoped for.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to be careful,¡± Bonnehill went on. ¡°We¡¯ve got a small detachment of militiamen on board.¡± He nodded toward the Elizabeth, where Del Campo could now see a man coming around to the starboard rail wearing the telltale red coat of the King¡¯s Militia.


    Well, that does complicate things.


    ¡°One more thing¡­the woman. Miss Julia. Take good care of her, I beg. She¡¯s¡­delicate. She has known terrible abuse and her voice¡­it was nearly stolen from her. She speaks softly, so softly as yeh can barely hear her. Please, attend her well. Fetchin¡¯ girl like her, she sometimes attracts the wrong sort o¡¯ attention.¡±


    Del Campo extended a hand. ¡°You have my word as a gentleman, Captain. No harm shall come to her here.¡±


    They shook.


    Bonnehill said, ¡°I think I shall go and tell them that you¡¯ll be sendin¡¯ a party back with us. Allay their fears and all, yeh know?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Del Campo watched him return to his boat, and saw the worried expression on the face of Miss Julia as Bonnehill explained what was happening. As he lied to them. For a moment, Miss Julia¡¯s kerchief slipped, and Del Campo saw her soft red lips, her cheeks lightly coated in rouge, the rims of her eyes enhanced by dark, painted lines. He felt something stir in him again, but remembered his duty and turned to a lieutenant standing beside him and gave the order to arrange an away party.


    But when Miss Julia stepped hesitantly off the boat, Del Campo made sure it was his hand that she took, and eased her onto the dock. ¡°Miss Julia? I am Captain Santiago Del Campo. It is a pleasure to welcome you to Porto Bello.¡±


    She muttered, barely above a whisper, ¡°Thank you.¡± She hid her mouth sheepishly, her blue eyes blinking worriedly at all the fuss on the dock. And Del Campo believed he might have fallen in love with her right there, for he had never wanted to protect a creature more in his life.


    Behind him, Captain Bonnehill, or Jenkins truly, wiped his hands on his jacket. His palms had been sweating since they set out from the Elizabeth, or the Hazard. Isaacson and Masters came aboard, and he introduced them as his first and second mates. They traded pleasantries with the captain, and accepted an invitation to dine with him later that night. Jenkins glanced over at Miss Julia, her humble eyes downcast, her hand still somehow in Del Campo¡¯s.


    That wasn¡¯t supposed to happen, Jenkins thought.


    The away party took their boats and rowed out to the Hazard. Jenkins had never been more exhilarated that something had gone right in all his life, and, looking up at the fortress built at many levels upon the cliff, he had never felt more like everything was bound to go wrong.


    ____


    They decided to rest for the night, and to bring the twelve-pounders onto shore the very next day. Capit¨¢n Del Campo made it a priority to bring Miss Julia to his quarters straightaway, much to the delight of his superior, Major Alonso Solucio, who happened to return that day from a campaign deeper in the jungles of the Dari¨¦n Gap. Major Solucio was a rigid-eyed man, his facial features etched from dark granite, and he was only too glad to be reunited with Porto Bello, for his excursion to suppress the natives had been disastrous, to the point he did not even wish to talk about it.


    Del Campo introduced the major to Captain Bonnehill, his first and second mates, and to Miss Julia. The first thing Solucio noticed was, of course, the lovely woman who concealed her features almost all the time. Solucio¡¯s wife had left Spain to join him in Porto Bello three years ago, but had died from flu. Now he found himself wanting companionship, and not with the normal doxies in Porto Bello. Bonnehill was only too keen to regale everyone with harrowing stories at dinner¡ªstories about the storm that knocked them off course, stories about how he outran pirates in the Indian Ocean, stories about dealing with mutinies at sea.


    While Bonnehill spoke, both Del Campo and Solucio tried to engage Miss Julia, but she would only ever whisper something like, ¡°It was frightening. We are grateful to Captain Bonnehill for his bravery, and getting us this far.¡± It was so soft, barely audible, and that only intrigued the men more. For her eyes¡ªthose deep blue eyes, so much like the ocean¡ªwere so delicate, and so scared, they made a man want to do anything to allay their fears, to protect them, to invite them. And her eyes were all anyone ever got to see, for the kerchief concealed almost everything else.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ____


    The crew aboard the Elizabeth were indeed majority Negro, and Del Campo was satisfied for the moment to allow them all to stay on board. Some of them did, however, appear most disturbed to see the two twelve-pounders being removed from the stern and bow. A couple of them even argued with Captain Bonnehill, who helped oversee the work. They shouted at him in broken English, saying that the payment they were meant to get for delivery of the cannons was most of the reason they¡¯d signed on, and giving them to the Spaniards was a violation of the contract.


    Capit¨¢n Del Campo watched Bonnehill masterfully deceive his own men, telling them that the Spaniards were going to pay them double for the cannons. But as he watched the cannons be slowly lowered onto the docks, Del Campo happened to glance west, along the shoreline, and saw Major Solucio walking beside Miss Julia. She wasn¡¯t talking¡ªMiss Julia never conversed openly¡ªbut the major was talking to her, his hands clasped behind him leisurely.


    To Del Campo, it looked like a courtship. He was embarrassed at the unmanly pang of envy in his chest, and yet he could not deny its presence. The only way to take his mind off it was to focus on the cannons, and the work of getting them to shore.


    ____


    The Elizabeth had been brought into dock for the offloading of the two cannons, but now the dock was needed for more Spanish vessels coming and going from the sea, many of which were in need of repair. So the Elizabeth was sailed back out to the mouth of the inlet, and allowed to drop anchor and remain there in Cuervo Cove, within view of the cliffside fort.


    Captain Bonnehill, in full view of Capit¨¢n Del Campo and Major Solucio, convinced his crew that it was all right, that he was only going to be gone for a few days into Porto Bello. ¡°I only need to see the city, see if they have the things we need to make the repairs Elizabeth requires.¡± He brought along his first and second mate, and left Elizabeth in the hands of a cabin boy named Gregson.


    Del Campo and Solucio smiled privately to one another over that. To leave a sloop-of-war in the command of a boy was foolish, and that Bonnehill had convinced his crew it was a good idea was just too delicious to bear.


    That night, Del Campo and Solucio sat privately together inside the main library at the fort, lounging in settees and drinking wine, while they discussed how best to stage an overthrow of the Elizabeth¡¯s crew. Bonnehill had done them a service by setting it all up perfectly, now all they had to do was execute a plan. They also joked and spoke of home, and congratulated one another on their work here at Bateria de la Lanza. And at the end of the night, Solucio asked, ¡°Miss Julia, how is she?¡±


    Del Campo sloshed his wine around in his glass, and looked out the window at three distant moons, so distant as to be specks, like coins held twice again at arm¡¯s length. One was red, the other two were yellow. The three moons had replaced the normal moon a few nights ago, but had so far caused no tidal disturbances. ¡°How do you mean, Major?¡±


    ¡°She still seems so¡­solemn. Alone. I feel for her. She reminds me of my own daughter¡ªyou remember Esmeralda, she¡¯s fourteen now, her last letters to me say she¡¯s finally gotten over her stutter. In any case, I don¡¯t like to see a young girl so alone. I think I shall have Miss Julia come stay at my villa. I have women servants around her age, they ought to be able to stimulate her. A lady needs another lady around to speak of womanly things, don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Major.¡±


    ¡°I would also like to have her in the study, from time to time. I believe I heard her mention she likes books. Hard to tell with her, poor girl speaks so softly as to scarcely be heard.¡±


    Del Campo kept his composure. Sipped his wine. ¡°Of course, Major.¡±


    ¡°I think she will like it at my villa,¡± Solucio said smiling.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she will.¡± Del Campo glanced out the window. One of the moons dissolved even as he was looking at it, as though it had only been a dream.


    ____


    The story of Major Solucio¡¯s campaign in the Dari¨¦n Gap was painful even for him to discuss, but he told Captain Bonnehill about all of it on their next meeting, which was supper at his villa on the hill at the southern end of the cove. From his villa, one received a commanding view of both the cliffside fort¡ªits rows of defensive cannons gleaming in a sun that finally made an appearance after five days absent¡ªthe docks along the beach, and the Elizabeth anchored at the inlet¡¯s mouth.


    Captain Bonnehill allowed Major Solucio to do most of the talking, and shivered visibly upon hearing his horrid tale of chasing cannibalistic natives through the jungles of the Gap. Half his men had died from some disease brought on by mosquitoes, and the other half had been driven mad by something they had seen in the water¡ªupon a three-day stretch of sunless skies, they had been hunted by fleshless, man-shaped things that came out of the rivers. Doubtless, creatures born out of the Firmament Crisis, as it was being called in Spain.


    ¡°God¡¯s wrath,¡± Bonnehill breathed. ¡°But that must have wore yeh slap thin. It¡¯s a wonder yeh¡¯re even still alive, sir. Yeh must be an awfully keen leader and fighter, to have gotten through all o¡¯ that.¡±


    Solucio smiled graciously. It was good to have someone new to talk to, even if it was a dirty English merchanter. But Bonnehill¡¯s bluntness had grown on the major, and the man¡¯s eagerness to listen to the bawdy jokes Solucio had heard from his regiment always made him feel at home. Bonnehill had stories of his own, usually quite mundane, and his more exciting stories usually seemed embellished, but Solucio indulged him anyway. It was good to speak to someone who did not feel duty-bound to do so.


    ¡°My men have all been well trained,¡± Solucio guaranteed. ¡°God knows, I leaned on them as much as they leaned on me.¡±


    ¡°You do them honour, sir, speakin¡¯ of them so highly.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true. It¡¯s all true.¡± Solucio sighed grimly at the memories of the Dari¨¦n Gap. Long days without any sunrise, with alien moons crisscrossing the sky at tremendous speeds, and constellations distorted almost beyond recognition. And all the way, ebon shapes flitting around in the dark, stalking them through the jungle. Sometimes a cannibal¡¯s spear came out of nowhere and took one of his men, and other times something more foul crawled up out of the river, and dragged his men into the water.


    He looked out at the three moons, presently sharing the same patch of open sky. ¡°What do you think it is? All this. You English, you call it the Cataclismo.¡±


    ¡°The Cataclysm, yes, that¡¯s what I¡¯ve heard men say away in Port Royal and Nassau. That¡¯s the official word Parliament is usin¡¯. Some say they heard it from the Church.¡± Bonnehill shrugged and laughed mirthlessly. ¡°But who knows? I heard tell once, from a very wise man, a true erudite, that there was supposedly one year without a summer¡ªthe Norsemen even called it that, ¡®the Year Without Summer.¡¯ Some volcano or other was said to be the blame. Caused the world to be blanketed in ash, no sunlight at all for a year or two. This was, I s¡¯ppose, a thousand years ago or more.¡± He shrugged again, and stared out at the fort. ¡°Looks like yeh¡¯re about to have y¡¯selves a fancy new set o¡¯ cannons.¡±


    ¡°Mm?¡± Major Solucio lifted a quizzical brow, then followed Captain Bonnehill¡¯s gesture out to the fort, where special cranes had been erected to lift the Menorcans up each level of the ramparts. Up the cliff they went. It would take a whole day just to raise them that high¡ªtaking them up the fort steps from the beach simply would not have worked. ¡°Ah, s¨ª. Yes, your gifts are just about to find a new home.¡±


    ¡°Which reminds me,¡± said Bonnehill, wiping sweat from his brow. It was powerfully humid. ¡°An¡¯ I don¡¯t mean to be, er, indelicate, but I have been waiting these two weeks for¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your payment, of course. It still hasn¡¯t been seen to?¡±


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t, Major, no.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me. This will not stand. I will see where the error is and have your money by tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Thankee, Major. Yeh¡¯ve all been very gracious hosts. I wonder if¡ªoh! Miss Julia.¡±


    The door had opened behind Solucio, but he had not heard the beautiful creature enter. She walked everywhere silently, drifting from corridor to corridor like a panther, rarely seen. He stood up now to receive her. ¡°Se?orita Julia, how are you this evening?¡±


    The woman slouched and hid her words behind her mouth, in which she held a new handkerchief. She smiled shyly as she passed through the room, holding up a book. She spoke in a soft whisper, ¡°Might I¡­borrow this book, sir?¡±


    ¡°Of course, you may. You don¡¯t even need to ask.¡±


    She curtseyed, and then left without another word.


    ¡°My God,¡± said Solucio. ¡°What did they do to her, that she will not even let her face be seen? And that she would speak as though her words might attract the wrath of a wolf?¡±


    ¡°If I told yeh, Major, you wouldn¡¯t like it. Trust me, sir.¡±


    ¡°Did you know she won¡¯t even let my female servants go near her, not even to help dress or undress her?¡±


    Bonnehill sighed wearily. ¡°As I said, sir¡­yeh don¡¯t want the story. Not the full one.¡±


    At the very thought of someone harming Julia, the major¡¯s fingers curled into fists. He tried to take his mind off it, and poured himself and Bonnehill more wine. They discussed the prominent positions he had in mind for the Menorcans, high up with the main battery, so that not only could their range be utilized, but gravity itself would lend power as the cannonballs descended.


    ¡°Glad to hear yeh like them, Major,¡± Bonnehill said, accepting his proffered wine. ¡°Very glad to hear it.¡±


    ____


    The twelve-pounders were inspected a second time when they reached the fifth level of the cliffside fort, and a third time before they were housed, and finally a fourth once they were slotted into their housing. The bore of each cannon was smooth and deep, and they did seem to have never once been fired, just as Bonnehill promised. That changed, however, when Capit¨¢n Del Campo ordered that each Menorcan be fired once each, to ensure that they worked.


    There was some powerful recoil. More powerful than they¡¯d expected, in fact, and the wheels came off each cannon. The housing of each cannon had also been severely damaged, fracturing in key places. This caused Del Campo some concern, for no one knew how to fix it in a trice. Until an engineer from the Elizabeth, a long-haired Frenchman who never gave him name, volunteered to help out. For a fee, the Frenchman claimed to be able to solve it in a day or two, as long as he had access to a proper smelter and smithee. He claimed to have worked out the problem of adapting smaller housing to larger cannons by using a unique metal pin and an ironwork contraption of his own design.


    Two days later, it was done, the cannons were fired twice more each. The Elizabeth was moved farther out to sea and out of the direct path, allowing the cannoneers to find the full range of each Menorcan. ¡°It¡¯s astonishing power, Capit¨¢n!¡± said Del Campo¡¯s gunnery-sergeant. ¡°It can reach all the way out to the inlet¡¯s mouth, and then some! Easily sixteen hundred yards! And very accurate! And the Frenchman is a genius. His work proved out, the cannons fire and spring back smartly. No damage to their housing at all.¡±


    The gunnery crew were all excited, and wanted to fire more, if only to pass the boredom of watching an inlet that rarely saw any visitors.


    Sixteen hundred yards. Del Campo could hardly fathom it. And with their reload times, these Menorcans could pummel any invading ship six, maybe seven times before said ship even got within range to use its cannons. ¡°Thank you, Sergeant. Give your men extra rations of rum tonight.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    Del Campo found the Frenchman an hour later, sitting idly on the wall, his feet dangling hundreds of feet above the shore. He was gazing not down, but up, at the one red moon and the two yellow moons, all three racing across the sky at a speed that would make any bird jealous. Speaking of birds, a few of them fell out of the sky. Just plummeted down into the water. This had been happening a lot recently. Apparently the birds were confused by the fast-moving heavens, and it did something to their minds. Naturalists in Porto Bello discussed it daily in the coffee-houses. Del Campo had sat with them, listening to their theories on the firmament and its lasting effect on the World.


    Del Campo shook the Frenchman¡¯s hand and said, ¡°You are a credit to your country, my friend. And a credit to engineers everywhere.¡±


    The Frenchman smiled and held Del Campo¡¯s hand a moment too long. ¡°I know the arrangement you have with Bonnehill, monsieur.¡± There was a tinge of malice, but also humour. It took Del Campo off his guard. ¡°I am not stupid like the Negroes. I expect to be paid, too, like an una recompensa ro amigas, or however you say it.¡± He leaned in. ¡°Bonnehill does not control the crew like he thinks he does. The Negroes are beginning to get suspicious. They¡¯re asking, ¡®Why haven¡¯t we left yet?¡¯ But I know the reason. Bonnehill made a deal with you. Well, if you don¡¯t make a deal with me, and soon, the Elizabeth will sail away from here and there goes your prize ship. That isn¡¯t a threat¡ªthe Africans will sail from here before you have enough people ready to overwhelm them.¡±


    A moment passed between them. One of the moons¡ªthe red one¡ªbriefly eclipsed the sun, bringing on a fifteen-second darkness, during which the Frenchman held Del Campo¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°How can you help?¡± Del Campo finally said.


    The Frenchman smiled. ¡°I can convince at least half of them to leave. Then your men should be able to handle the rest.¡±


    ¡°I see. And how will you convince them?¡±


    The Frenchman swung his feet back over the wall, and sauntered away. ¡°I am very persuasive, monsieur. Can we go somewhere private to discuss my fee?¡±


    ____


    The ball was held on 1 January, 1717, at the Gran Sal¨®n, in the glass-enclosed solarium that stretched over an acre outside of Porto Bello, done up in a mock Parisian style that laboured to proclaim its importance to Porto Bello. It had the chrysalis of a chapel at one edge of the property, half-built with scaffolding all around its stone edifice. There were artefacts assembled in a gallery, including curios from Ancient Rome and Egypt. A bas-relief of men building some old great temple hung from a wall and attracted almost as much attention as the crisscrossing moons. There was Madeira wine and French cheeses, fresh cherries and caviar, chocolates, an enormous roast pig on a spit, and slabs of freshly butchered veal arrayed around bowls of tropical fruit.


    This was extreme extravagance, especially since the Long Nights had caused some crops to fail.


    The ball inside was being attended by the usual neophytes. High-ranking officers who had used treasures seized from English ships to buy their way into high society, as well as all of King Philip¡¯s senior appointees to the Viceroyalty of New Granada, clustered together in the main ballroom and on balconies. The cause for the ball was manifold: to celebrate the arrival of the Menorcan cannons, to welcome the New Year, to congratulate Juan Felix Dom¨ªnguez on his first year as governor, and, of course, Major Solucio¡¯s fiftieth birthday. The red moon was high above the solarium, which was finally finished the month before by the great architect Hernando Abalos. The three moons each occupied a window and crisscrossed above the attendees¡¯ heads as they pointed and ¡°ooohed¡± and ¡°ahhhed.¡±


    Captain Bonnehill was delighted to have been invited, and attended in his finest frock coat, walking among the ladies with long, flowing dresses that would have dragged on the floor if not for their attendants walking behind carrying the hem. Bonnehill was a minor celebrity, for Major Solucio had him retell his stories of getting lost at sea and talk about the power of the Menorcans. He was the only Englishman in Porto Bello to have been welcomed as a friend in a long time.


    Musicians in brushed frock coats sat with cellos, fiddles, flutes, and drums, and played silvery, arabesque tunes that wove through the jovial crowd. Gentlemen and ladies danced beneath the spinning heavens, a new tradition since the advent of the Cataclysm. Indeed, new dances were created to be performed specifically when a moon went racing overhead.


    The Gran Sal¨®n was a place of vast halls with marble floors and fine paintings and sculptures brought over from Spain, and down each hall you could find multiple doors that led into private areas, into small sal¨®ns that had food from the finest chefs in Porto Bello, or else a lecture, a feast for the intellectuals who desired robust discussion on the day¡¯s most pressing topics. Politics, religion, science, warfare, and the natural world.


    The topic de rigueur, at all times, was the Firmament Crisis. And there were no more sought-after speakers on the topic than the benandanti. Once, they would have been witches, vilified and condemned for their occult practices. Now the women were invited into houses of nobility, wearing their white grinning masks, and they read from ancient scriptures that existed in no holy book anywhere.


    Captain Bonnehill maneuvered through these crowds, alighting on this group and alighting on that group, eavesdropping a bit before moving on.


    ¡°Did you know,¡± said one grey-bearded scholar, who had attracted an audience of a dozen nobles and their mistresses, ¡°that the English call this thing plaguing them la Enfermedad. The Disease. As though there are no other diseases in the whole World. Indeed, I have colleagues who have visited London and seen this, eh, Tam they call it. Rivers of the plasm left over when the Diseased effectively die¡ªthough, there are many mysterious stages to the Disease, and some seem to imitate life.¡±


    Captain Bonnehill glided on, listening to other scholars.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard this Tam is said to be a semi-liquid sludge,¡± said one eager lady, fanning herself. ¡°And that it has strange properties. It can release blue sparks of light, almost like lightning, and it sometimes grows fingers that reach out to the living¡­¡± She trailed off when others began to laugh.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make light of it,¡± said another scholar. ¡°What the lady says is true. I have it on good authority, se?orita, that the Tam does indeed seem to exhibit signs of life. In fact, there are those who say they hear the voices of their dead loved ones when they¡¯re near it. Even dead enemies.¡±


    Ladies were permitted to listen, as long as they were escorted by a man. At the back of one such room, Major Solucio stood close to Miss Julia. Her face was hidden demurely behind a bright-red fan, and she listened intently to a woman sermonize about what the benandanti believed had caused the Firmament Crisis.


    Solucio remained an arm¡¯s length from Miss Julia at all times, as any gentleman ought who was not the lady¡¯s husband, and admired her from that distance. Her broad shoulders, her long hair which was the colour of dried autumn wheat, and which he still had not seen without the wide-brimmed hat. He imagined what her hair would look like on a pillow.


    Just then, Julia¡¯s attention was on a benandanti woman at the center of the room.


    The benandanti witch was some Englishwoman who had been in Porto Bello for a month, and had become quite popular with the wives of the regiment officers that frequented the taverns. Governor Dom¨ªnguez¡¯s own wife was taken with her, and had personally invited her. The witch spoke of blood rituals to protect oneself against evil, and how women, specifically, could smear blood on their bared breasts and ward their souls, and the souls of others around them.


    Even as the benandanti witch invited people around her table to commence the s¨¦ance, Solucio¡¯s eyes never drifted long from Julia. Later that night, when he had his fortune read by the witch beneath the red moon, Solucio hoped she would tell him he was bound to a marry a blonde Englishwoman.


    What she said was, ¡°Fire is in your future. And wealth. And¡­a woman with fair hair. Sorrow in your recent past. Much sorrow. But a fair-haired woman, soft-spoken, may alleviate this trouble. But another rival stands in your way. A suitor, I think? Yes¡­yes. A man of lower station, but still charismatic, and with great ambitions.¡±


    Solucio was smiling. Until he looked back at Julia. She was walking out of the room, arm-in-arm with Capit¨¢n Santiago Andres Del Campo. He left rather quickly, and Anne Bonny, the witch, continued entertaining the rest of the room.


    ____


    On the beach each day, Del Campo took units of twenty or thirty of his men down by the docks and ran them through their training. Hands clasped behind his back, he paced back and forth, watching the trainers correct the angle of a soldier¡¯s partizan, showing how to adjust the grip to use the haft of the spear to deflect incoming attacks before bringing the tip down onto the enemy¡¯s collarbone. And while he ran them through their courses, Del Campo watched as Miss Julia walked on the beach, usually alone, usually in a different dress.


    Where does she get so many dresses? It must be Major Solucio¡¯s servants. They must fetch her new clothes from Porto Bello every day.


    Del Campo watched her walk alone in the sun, in the rain, and at night when high tide came in and the wind fumbled through the grass. She was sometimes joined by Captain Bonnehill, and sometimes she had a book with her. He would stare, ruminating on her whole being, curious as to what was the key to her heart.


    The allure of her was the mystery. But also, his animal need. The things he thought about when he was alone at night in his bed¡­the things he thought about doing with her¡­


    Perhaps it was because there were no other women at Bateria de la Lanza. Indeed, even when he did get the time to travel into town, there was almost no woman who even approached her feminine grace in all of Porto Bello. Miss Julia simply had no equal, not here, perhaps not anywhere.


    Each day that he saw her on the beach he had to fight to maintain his focus on his men, making sure that their reload times were equal to the twenty-second standard he¡¯d set for them. Most Spanish regiments were fine with the thirty-second standard, but Del Campo would not have it, and stood with a timepiece in his hand and counted every second while his Viejos drilled.


    Their bayonet fighting techniques also had to be sharpened each day, and sometimes he even joined his men in full uniform to train, if only to keep his mind off the pale-skinned beauty that graced his shores and tormented his sleep.


    ____


    ¡°I know that we haven¡¯t had much time to be alone, Miss Julia,¡± Del Campo said, as they came to a stop in front of her door one night. He released her arm, and looked at her. They were still in Major Solucio¡¯s house, and he was guiding her back to her room. ¡°But I must confess, I have held great affection for you since your arrival. My duties¡­they keep me very busy. And the major¡­I know he also has affections, which, I suspect, is why he brought you here. To his home. He is a good man, and I do not mean to impugn my superior¡ªhe¡¯s been through so much since his wife passed¡ªbut I would not be able to live with myself if I did not at least confess how I feel.¡±


    Those blue eyes. When they looked up at him, blinking in innocent confusion, it was almost all he could do to contain himself. Del Campo wanted to hold her, force her to lower her fan so that he could see what was hidden. He imagined she had some hideous scar left over from her tragedy, but he did not care. He sincerely did not. ¡°I need you to know this because¡ª¡±


    ¡°Before you do anything,¡± she whispered. ¡°Before you say anything, I think we both should¡­take some time to gather our thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, of course,¡± Del Campo said, matching her soft tones. He suddenly felt very foolish.


    ¡°Can you¡­?¡± Ever so lightly, she touched his arm. It was the first time she had ever done it.


    ¡°Yes? Anything, just ask.¡±


    ¡°Can you send for Captain Bonnehill? I would like to ask when we may leave.¡±


    Del Campo nodded, deflated. ¡°I believe he¡¯s still downstairs with the major. I will tell him you asked for him.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. Goodnight, Captain. You are a good friend.¡±


    ¡°Goodnight, se?orita.¡± He watched her go through the door. Watched it close. Hoped he hadn¡¯t overstepped some unspoken boundary between himself and the major. Feared she would leave soon and never turn.


    While Capit¨¢n Del Campo was slowly turned away from the door, John Laurier listened from the other side. When he heard the captain¡¯s footsteps fade, he walked quickly over to the window, lit a lantern, and draped a towel over it. He stood by the window, lifting the lantern twice, then kept it draped, then flashed it twice more.


    His window faced the mouth of Cuervo Cove, the inlet where Hazard rested. Looking out, he saw the response from Hazard. Okoa, or perhaps the cook Reginald, flashed a lantern from the rear windows of the captain¡¯s quarters, and in the agreed-upon code. Everything was on schedule, they so far had not been assaulted or boarded by Del Campo¡¯s people.


    John walked over to the full-body mirror and removed his hat, and checked his makeup. It was arduous, getting up every morning early enough to dress himself, tediously going over his makeup, stuffing his corset or bodice with socks to create the illusion of a bosom, planning his day around how to best walk around the Gran Sal¨®n, the major¡¯s villa, and the city of Porto Bello without being found out.


    Exhausting, really.


    But fun. And worth every moment of it.


    Several knocks at the door. Three sharp ones, then two heavy ones, a pause, and three more sharp ones. John parted the door slightly and admitted Jenkins. ¡°Captain Bonnehill,¡± John said, still practicing his soft, feminine voice. ¡°How are we this evening?¡±


    Jenkins doffed his hat, and walked over to the window to look out at the Hazard, framed distantly by three sets of moonlight. ¡°I spoke with LaCroix,¡± he whispered. The man¡¯s face was sweating. He looked frantic. ¡°All¡¯s ready upon the fort. And Akil came to shore yesterday with three men, and I told him to make ready on his end. But this doesn¡¯t move forward unless you get it. So, did you? Get it?¡±


    John reached into the fronds of his left sleeve, and produced the key he had lifted from Capit¨¢n Del Campo¡¯s pocket.


    Jenkins sighed heavily, and sat down. ¡°Took you bloody long enough.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t always have it on him,¡± John said. ¡°But I knew he would tonight. I heard two of Solucio¡¯s servants say they were once loaned out to Del Campo, and helped dress him. He¡¯s always given the key during nights when he works half-duty, and will be needed back at the fort again after a formal occasion. He then returns it to the officer-on-watch.¡± He handed Jenkins the key.


    Jenkins took out a small, palm-sized box, which looked to only hold tobacco, when in fact it held a bar of solid red wax. He put the key inside the box, closed it, pressed hard on the top, and removed the key. There was now a perfectly hollow impression of the key in the wax bar. Jenkins handed back the key. ¡°Can you get it back in his pocket tonight?¡±


    John smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sure I can conjure a reason to be back in his presence. He will accept almost any excuse.¡± He pointed to the box in Jenkins¡¯s hand. ¡°Get that to LaCroix tonight. I want a copy made no later than morning.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be too difficult. The smithee Del Campo introduced him to is reliable, and the smelter seems good enough to do the job. He won¡¯t ask questions, not if you give him a hundred solid doubloons.¡±


    John looked himself in the mirror. ¡°I¡¯ve just signaled the Hazard. Okoa will have the men ready.¡±


    ¡°Just hope he does. Because if we don¡¯t have a way out of this place, we don¡¯t ever leave. Not ever. Straight to a Porto Bello dungeon for us, Captain, then on to Fiddler¡¯s Green. That fort¡­I¡¯ve tried to see every inch of it, and it¡¯s monstrous. A damn labyrinth. I¡¯ve walked it many times while chatting up Solucio, and I can hardly map it all out in my head¡ª¡±


    ¡°LaCroix and I have done all that.¡±


    ¡°And this game you¡¯re playin¡¯. The one with Del Campo and Solucio¡­¡±


    ¡°Speak your mind.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t part o¡¯ the original plan, is all.¡±


    ¡°An unforeseen bit of luck. I didn¡¯t anticipate they would both take such keen interest in Miss Julia¡ªI had only planned to get close enough to kill the man and take the key, but this way is less messy, and provides us greater opportunities to infiltrate more corridors of power. A quieter approach. But I saw an opportunity to charm both men, and it has expanded my plans. You have to admit, I¡¯ve exceeded myself as an impostor.¡± He added, ¡°And, of course, Anne¡¯s turn as an actress is a revelation. She¡¯s doing an excellent job out there. She makes a very good witch.¡±


    ¡°If they find out she¡¯s not a real benandanti¡ª¡±


    ¡°She knows what she¡¯s doing. She knows enough about the occult¡ªshe¡¯s into that blood ritual nonsense that King Louis¡¯s Court likes. These Spaniards don¡¯t know the difference between that and a true benandanti. And besides, that ursula in Stratham gave her enough to think about.¡± John looked over his shoulder at Jenkins. ¡°And you¡¯re quite the actor as well, Captain Bonnehill. You¡¯ve completely surprised me.¡±


    ¡°These halls are filled with bloody-minded guards, if any one of them discovers who¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re almost there, my friend. Just be patient, and keep your courage.¡±


    Jenkins went on, as though not hearing the Ladyman, ¡°And did you see how those soldiers train on the beach? With them halberds and those¡ªwhat-do-you-call-ems? Partizans? Them be cunning lads, Cap¡¯n. Cunning killers.¡± He wiped his brow again. ¡°I know you don¡¯t like religious talk, but I pray to fuckin¡¯ God you know what you¡¯re doing. We¡¯ve placed all our highest hopes in this scheme of yours, and I¡¯ve defended you to the men that doubted you. This had better work.¡±


    ¡°Believe me, Captain Bonnehill, by this time tomorrow, there will be no one left to defend Porto Bello.¡± He reached into his armoire, took out a handwritten letter, and said, ¡°Deliver this to Major Solucio for me, if you would please.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s in it?¡±


    John looked back at the mirror, at his reflection. ¡°The match we need to light the fuse.¡±


    ____


    The next night, the sun set, and it did not rise again. The two yellow moons vanished and the red moon lingered on the horizon. It was to be a Long Night.

 Chapter 28: A Little Dance with Jack Ketch

    Jack Ketch ¨C The hangman. To ¡°dance with Jack Ketch¡± means to hang.


    WOODES ROGERS STOOD on a parapet facing south, into the harbour. He faced the Long Night with a Bourgogne wine in his left hand, and in his right hand he held a writ from the Governor of Port Royal, upon direct orders of King George himself, To Bring upon the city of Port Royal both Order and Obedience to the Crown, and to make Pyrates, and all Pyratical Activities, and all Those associating with Pyratical Activities, immediately and exclusively Forbidden upon both Shores and Seas. Any Person disobeying this Order shall be Hanged by the neck until Dead.


    Yes, that¡¯s sort of the point, he thought chuckling to himself.


    A cold easterly wind followed him as he strode along the wall of Fort Carlisle, past the cannons that were currently unmanned but nevertheless pointed outwards, as though anticipating the next attack. Rogers enjoyed these short walks in the morning, when most people were asleep and the world seemed like it belonged exclusively to him. It was always quiet this early. Never more quiet than now. To bring upon the city of Port Royal both order and obedience, he thought. Woodes rather felt the obedience part was aimed at him, as well as the pirates that had infected these streets.


    That thought followed him until he came to the window into his own quarters. He sipped his wine and gazed out at sea. Gloomy skies of remitting gray were backlit by small punctuations of lightning. A book called The Byzantine Histories & Essays by Procopius sat on a wrought-iron table, and he thumbed through the passages he¡¯d bookmarked. Rogers had been an assiduous reader of late, especially on matters of history.


    Books on history were few and far between on Port Royal, as there were no schools or colleges¡ªeach family saw to their own children¡¯s education¡ªbut fortunately he¡¯d brought quite a collection over himself, as had the priest Olaf, who had a few tomes on naturalism. There were a few books that had been confiscated for having been contaminated by some wood-eating beetles, and together he and Olaf had gathered historical texts that may very well account for the Long Night. The account by Byzantine historian Procopius told of the year 536 A.D., when ¡°the sun gave forth its light without brightness, like the moon, this whole year.¡±


    Procopius¡¯s words bore even more ill omen further down: ¡°During this year, men were free neither from war nor pestilence nor any other thing leading to death.¡±


    Thunder rolled across the harbour, drowning out the snoring of the whore in his bed somewhere behind him. He went inside and kicked her out, and she stumbled out into the hall, still half drunk, gathering her puddle of clothes on the way. He laughed watching her ass jiggle as she scurried down the hall, and the guards gave her little pinches as she went.


    ¡°Have at her, boys,¡± he said. And the guards thanked him and went chasing after her.


    He listened to her screams down the hall as he got himself ready in front of the mirror. His servant James had his clothes all laid out, and after he dressed himself that same servant returned to take a brush to his jacket and vest. ¡°Perhaps a shave today, sir?¡±


    ¡°No, thank you, James,¡± said Rogers, running his hands over his two-day scruff. ¡°I¡¯m starting to think it rather makes me look rugged, like one of the locals, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°As you say, sir.¡±


    ¡°Start us a fire, would you? These Long Nights are cold.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± James was already about his work when a strong gust came through the window and he had to shutter it.


    Rogers looked at the dresser where he had laid the governor¡¯s writ. Beside it was the letter from home. Jessica had written him that their daughter Elana had died of plague. The letter itself seemed damp, perhaps stained by her tears as she wrote it. Rogers took the letter over to the fireplace and tossed it into the flames¡ªthose matters all felt a Universe away, so much like the ash they became. ¡°What order of business today, James, besides the usual?¡±


    ¡°You have a meeting with the Clement brothers, if you¡¯ll recall, sir.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. What is it they wanted?¡± He snapped his fingers remembering. ¡°The slave contract, that¡¯s right. And what was it they brought up in regards?¡±


    ¡°The Asiento de Negros, sir.¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± he laughed, fluffing out his cuffs and checking his cufflinks. ¡°They want to model us after the damn Spaniards. Well, Trenton is the cleverer of the two brothers, a cunning brute but savvy when it comes to his trade.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°I wonder how these slavers will operate in these Long Nights, under strange moons and even stranger tides. Will they adapt as we have? I believe will have shown the world by now that Port Royal is a prime example of keeping your heads when the world appears to be falling apart. Isn¡¯t this a famous thing now?¡± he laughed, glancing himself in the mirror again and checking his collar. ¡°Isn¡¯t this a famous thing, all the world falling apart and it should be Port Royal of all cities that has kept its sanity!¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± said James, brushing out the captain¡¯s coat.


    ¡°I hear the Colonies nearly burned to the ground, so many people setting fires to try and bring back the sun! Damned fools.¡±


    ¡°I heard the same, sir.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you heard more. Well, don¡¯t keep me in suspense, James, my dear man, tell me what gossip from the city? What are they saying down in the Fish Market?¡±


    ¡°There is much talk about the crops failing, sir. People are worried about food stores that may not last them till spring, and that when spring comes the crops may not have enough sunlight to grow.¡±


    ¡°Well they have every reason to fear that.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. The fishermen are having a good time of it. With crops failing people are relying on fish to keep food on their tables.¡±


    ¡°But how long can that last?¡± Rogers said. ¡°There are seasons for certain fish, too. And learned men say that the sun also has influence on sea life. So what happens to them when the sun doesn¡¯t return? Have any of them thought of that?¡±


    ¡°These are dangerous times, sir.¡±


    Rogers glanced out the window at the stubbornly dark sky. ¡°This damned firmament business,¡± he said, as if to encompass all his concerns. He sighed. ¡°What else from those gossiping hens in the Fist Market?¡±


    ¡°That you and the Devil¡¯s Son were dash cunning to have staved off the attacks by the Spaniards, sir.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°And do they credit Captain Vhingfrith with the victory or myself?¡± he asked cautiously. ¡°Be honest, James, I wish to know the truth, none of that fluffery of yours to spare my feelings.¡±


    James was behind Captain Rogers, brushing his coat, but Rogers caught James¡¯s wince in the mirror. ¡°They credit you both equally, sir.¡±


    ¡°Come now, surely one name was mentioned more than most.¡±


    ¡°They¡ªthere was talk from the Lively¡¯s crew. They are most proud to have served Captain Vhingfrith when he scouted out the two galleons in total darkness. That is a great tale, you have to admit, sir.¡±


    Yes, Rogers thought begrudgingly. That is a great tale, indeed.


    Benjamin Vhingfrith¡¯s glimmering cat¡¯s-eye was now widely famous, as was its ability to see through the Long Night. While Rogers and Vhingfrith had sailed out together during a glorious sunrise, and had chased the two Spanish naos around and around Jamaica for two sunny weeks, another Long Night had suddenly befallen them, and only a small, distant, pink-and-white moon had lit that darkness. The Lively and the Duke had circled the island for days after, still hunting the two Spanish ships but unable to light any lanterns or candles out of fear that the Spaniards would spot them. And the Spaniards couldn¡¯t light a flame, either, or they risked being seen. So they hunted one another in darkness, both blind as a bat.


    But that¡¯s where the cat¡¯s-eye had come into play. One night while sailing close to one another, Vhingfrith had hailed the Duke by shouting over to them, and the Duke and the Lively had come close enough to kiss. When Vhingfrith came aboard, he pulled Rogers down into his ward-room, along with all their senior officers, and there he told them, ¡°I can see them.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Rogers had asked.


    ¡°Who do you think, Captain Rogers?¡± the Devil¡¯s Son said smirking. He winked his cat¡¯s-eye. ¡°Both naos. They don¡¯t see us, of course, but they are at broad-reach of us and if we act now, we may intercept them within the hour.¡± He gestured out the window at dark clouds piling in the east. ¡°That alien moon is small and provides no real light, and even now it¡¯s ensconced behind cloud. If we sail that direction, they will not see our two silhouettes against the horizon.¡±


    ¡°You can actually see them?¡± Rogers whispered, as if he unconsciously believed the Spaniards could somehow hear hiim. ¡°From this distance, you can see them, Benjamin?¡±


    ¡°As clearly as I see you now, Woodes.¡±


    There were smiles all around the room, even from Rogers¡¯s own people. They were smiling eagerly and if he did not want to lose face in front of them then he had to pretend that this did not bother him. But it did. It ought not, but somehow it did irk him that Benjamin was able to provide this tactical advantage when he himself had not been able to so much as find a hint of the two enemy galleons. ¡°All right, Captain. Assuming we can sail away from them unseen, where to next?¡±


    Benjamin had pointed to the charts on Rogers¡¯s desk. ¡°This is us here, coming round the South Lance. That¡¯s Coolidge Bay, which I¡¯m sure you all know well. Pirates usually huddled there when it was too dangerous for them to moor at Port Royal, but ever since the Cataclysm they have steered clear of it.¡±


    Rogers nodded, seeing where this was going. ¡°The winds are changing¡ªmy man on the watch noticed it, and my man in the maintop, as well. You figure hide in the bay, and wait for them to come round again? Then we reel in all sails?¡±


    Vhingfrith nodded. ¡°We wait for them to pass again, and hope this Long Night holds. I know, I know, strange for a man to pray that the Long Night persists, but just now it is an advantage.¡±


    ¡°Only because we have you at our side, Devil¡¯s Son,¡± one of the men laughed. Others agreed with grunts and chuckles.


    Rogers misliked that, but he let it go. ¡°That¡¯s it, then. We hide in Coolidge Bay and wait for the naos to pass. Upon Captain Vhingfrith¡¯s signal we let all sails fly and come up behind them and chase them around the Hook and blast their rudders to flinders.¡±


    ¡°Aye!¡± the men all agreed heartily.


    A cold breeze blew one of the shutters open and the flames in the fireplace danced. While James went over to lock the shutter down, Rogers thought about that night attack, and how very close they had come to smashing both naos. One of them apparently had a captain and crew clever enough to pull evasive maneuvers that allowed them to escape with minimal damage, but the ship had been forced to retreat far out to sea, and was separated from its partner. The Lively and the Duke had isolated and chased the other one down, hammering it for almost an hour, nearly cornering it, until at last a favourable wind granted them escape at the last moment. Both ships were bigger and had more sails, and so flew faster than their pursuers. But the attack was successful, it had caused the two ships to become lost in the Long Night and now they would never find one another again unless they used light signals, which would only attract the Lively and the Duke again.


    They pulled this same trick just a week later against one of the naos, and again Vhingfrith¡¯s cat¡¯s-eye led them right up to her arse and blasted it. The ship again let all sails fly and outran them both. A few more times they harassed both ships before they could get anywhere near Jamaica, which Rogers had to admit made him smile when he thought how frustrated the Spanish captains must¡¯ve been.


    They must have wondered how in the bloody hell we were seeing them. But it was Vhingfrith¡¯s phenomenal eye that had been the key, the only method to track the enemy in total darkness and keep them from reaching Jamaica¡¯s shores.


    ¡°What are they saying about how we routed the Spaniards?¡± he asked presently.


    ¡°They say your tactics were right, sir,¡± said James, returning with his brush to attend the captain¡¯s coat. ¡°Everyone knows the story; the Admiralty has made sure to spread it everywhere. They say you have a keen tactical mind, and would have to possess great cunning in order to pull off that ambush around the Hook.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh. And what of the Devil¡¯s Son and his crew?¡±


    James hesitated.


    ¡°James?¡±


    ¡°They just say that Captain Vhingfrith proved himself aright, is all, sir. The lads in The Golden Goose may have sung a song or two.¡±


    ¡°A song? About Vhingfrith?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Sing me a verse.¡±


    James swallowed. ¡°I¡ªwasn¡¯t there to hear the songs, sir.¡±


    ¡°What were their names?¡±


    ¡°The men singing?¡±


    ¡°No, James, the name of the songs.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, one was called, erm¡­I forget, but it did have one verse I heard someone say¡­they called Vhingfrith and his crew the Pirates o¡¯ the Long Night.¡±


    ¡°Pirates?¡± Rogers laughed, spinning to face his servant. ¡°Captain Vhingfrith and his crew are not pirates. For God¡¯s sakes, they have letters of marque. They¡¯re privateers, not pirates, any fool ought to know the difference.¡± He laughed again.


    ¡°Yes, sir. I think it was only because the name sounded clever. You know how people are.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Rogers said, turning to glance at himself once more in the mirror. ¡°I do, indeed.¡±


    He dismissed James, and before Rogers went to his meeting he looked out at the gray clouds, lit so strangely without sunlight. He walked over to his bookshelf and removed the other book he and the priest Olaf had discovered in the cache of books.


    Around the same time Procopius wrote his account about the eighteen-month darkness, a Roman politician named Cassiodorus had a slave write down this account: ¡°This year has been uncommonly dark. We marvel to see no shadows of our bodies at noon. The sun sometimes appears blue, not like our sun at all, and the moon has lost all its luster and sometimes does not even appear to be there. And now seasons seem to be all jumbled up together.¡±


    Rogers read that account again, forefinger touching his lips. This has happened before. Historical accounts revealed mysterious instances of these occurrences, each one a little bit different. He closed the book and put it back, even more convinced he had to mobilize the island¡¯s resources. Fast.


    With that in mind he spun and walked briskly out the door.


    ____


    There was a solemn yet occasionally jubilant mood around Port Royal these days. The people all seemed to have gotten used to the Long Night coming and going, and even the absence of the proper Moon and how the strangeness of the heavens sometimes made birds fall out of the sky. Poor things must be quite confused. Rogers had noticed people getting back to work, though, even as some of the grass and even crops continued to wither and die out across the island. They relied more on the sea than ever, fishing boats becoming more popular than they would have had any right to be, bringing food into the island, where cattle and vegetables were insufficient.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    There were plenty of food stores, lots of salted pork to last a season, and people throughout Port Royal had at least been wise enough in past years to pickle fruits and vegetables and keep them for a rainy day. Well, if this isn¡¯t a rainy day, I shouldn¡¯t like to see it, Rogers thought as he rounded Queen Street and headed towards Lime Street.


    The streets were lit at all hours of a Long Night¡ªthe lamplighters were on a constant work schedule now. People often walked with torches or candles. Sometimes there was enough light shining through the clouds (from an unknown source) that the world around them looked grey instead of dark. As now, the gray skies made it only look as if there were storm clouds¡ªit was only when those clouds parted that one saw the stars and the distant pinpoint of the alien moon. So the clouds themselves were providing an unnatural light.


    A stubborn, overburdened mule was standing in the street, holding up wagons of fish brought up from the docks. The Sunday bells were ringing from the Old Church, and people were rushing along the mud-caked sidewalks to get there. People were surviving and adapting to this strange new order, even Rogers himself was not so afraid as he had been during that first incursion of the Beasts. It seems humanity can make up its mind to survive just about everything. He¡¯d once heard a geologist say that thousands of years ago there had been an enormous volcano in Indonesia, and that some learned men believed its last eruption could have well buried much of the Earth in soot and ash, and that the skies and sun could have been blotted out by smoke for years, which would have brought on famine, which would have meant people dying by the millions the world over, which, he postulated, would also mean mass cannibalism. ¡°At least until the trouble passed,¡± the geologist had said.


    It had only been a theory but Rogers wondered if he and everyone else might be about to witness a terrible event of equal or greater magnitude. No, he decided. Men are much cleverer now, much more sophisticated than the Egyptians or the Romans or anyone else who would¡¯ve been around back then. We are more ingenious, he thought as he passed beneath a small viaduct. We are prepared to survive better than our savage ancestors. There won¡¯t be cannibalism.


    He passed a gathering of people waiting to see three men do a dance with Jack Ketch. The pirates all stood up on the platform with hands tied behind their backs. They were each allowed to say their last words. Rogers only heard one young fellow, maybe eighteen years old, say, ¡°¡ªand someone please send a letter to my mum and da, tell ¡¯em I died bravely. Please make somethin¡¯ up, tell ¡¯em I fought for England¡ª¡±


    If you wanted them to think you fought for England why did you not join the bloody navy and fight for England? Rogers chuckled to himself.


    He arrived at the coffee-house just as a bit of rain began to fall. He stepped into the protection of the outdoor gazebo and nodded to the Clement brothers, Trenton and Thorton. Trenton, the eldest, was a huge barrel-chested man who dressed in a black dress suit, his pant legs muddied from all the walking must do in Royal. Thorton, the quiet, younger brother with the palsied hand only smiled at Rogers¡¯s approach.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Rogers said, shaking hands with Trenton. ¡°How are we this morning?¡±


    ¡°Is it?¡± Trenton said. ¡°Morning, I mean?¡±


    Rogers laughed as he pulled out a chair to have a sit. ¡°The heavens may not be in order, my friends, but gentlemen such as ourselves ought to be.¡± He took his timepiece from his breast pocket and checked it. ¡°My timepiece says it¡¯s almost eleven o¡¯clock so by God that¡¯s what I¡¯ll believe till Lucky George tells me otherwise.¡±


    They all laughed and ordered coffees. After commenting on the phenomenon (which it seemed everyone must do now, comment on the firmament business, or the Cataclysm or whatever, before getting on with business), Rogers and Trenton lit pipes and eased back into negotiation postures. ¡°So,¡± Woodes said, ¡°am I to understand you two have come to your senses or am I to go back to the governor and console him when he finds out the Clement brothers are going back on their word?¡±


    Thorton looked worried, a nearby flickering lamp cast his long, awkward face into half shadow.


    Trenton smiled broadly. ¡°You present us only two options that attempt to corner us already, Captain! And here I thought we were friends, and the night¡ªer, morning¡ªhas just started.¡±


    ¡°What is your position, sir? Out with it.¡± That was always the start of any good negotiation, his father had told him ages ago. Ask this simple question, ¡°What is your position, sir?¡± And let them talk. Let them make the first mistake. The advice had never failed him, Rogers was a master at negotiating and getting what he wanted out of any deal.


    ¡°You know our position, Captain Rogers, it hasn¡¯t changed. We¡¯re slave traders, we deal in men. And we want the same opportunity the New World promises everyone else, only we want it here, in the Caribbean. And why not? This far away from England the usual rules do not apply. These are different times, exigent circumstances, which, while putting great strain on the people of these islands, also opens opportunity up for me like my brother and I. We only want to seize on the opportunity first. And we know that you want the same.¡±


    ¡°I tell you what I want, Trenton. I want to put an end to all this bickering about slaves and preferential sales to nobles in the Caribbean. The Admiralty Office is most upset. If the people of Jamaica and Havana require slaves, especially at this hour, they should have them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve not made any decree that says my people will only sale to nobles¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Rogers, taking a draft from his pipe, ¡°but what you have done is made the cost of a single slave so prohibitively expensive that only nobles can afford them.¡±


    ¡°Price goes up when supply goes down, Captain. You of all people should know this, you¡¯re an investor in the trade, same as the rest of us. You know what¡¯s happened to the slave trade since the firmament fucked everything up.¡±


    Rogers sighed heavily and smoke billowed out of him like dragon¡¯s breath. ¡°But if you bring the cost so high that no one can afford them, then what will the small plantation owners do? There is much work to be done just now, and when the sun does come back out there is going to be a mad rush to plough and sow. And, if God is good and the Long Night stays away long enough this time and the crops do come in, we will need men who can quickly pick the cotton in those fields. That means slaves aplenty. Slaves enough for everyone.¡± He gestured north, vaguely indicating all the plantations of Jamaica. ¡°Do we understand each other?¡±


    ¡°It depends. Have you reviewed my previous letters? I need not remind you that my brother and I require an answer.¡±


    Rogers snorted. ¡°You refer to your arguments that we ought to acquiesce to some monopoly contract, such as the Asiento de Negros, in order to, eh, how did you put¡ªI want to do the words justice, you are so eloquent¡ªto ¡®take a better example from the Spanish and how they aver strongly and correctly to mitigate loss of profits and loss of supply in the African slave trade by opening up contracts to smaller investors.¡¯ A verbose way of saying you want to repeat what the East India Company was done.¡±


    Trenton Clement smiled. ¡°And why not, sir?¡±


    ¡°You forget something.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°That we already have an East India Company and they work just fine. And the Royal African Company is owned by the Crown itself, and that Company oversees all taxation on the slave trade, so I doubt very much they are looking for more competition at this. And besides, their auditors are savage, they make sure every silver coin gets divvied so a percentage goes to the Crown¡ª¡±


    ¡°You pontificating bastard,¡± said Thorton, suddenly speaking for the first time. Rogers looked at him, and the skinny, awkward young man glared back. ¡°We happen to know that you indulge in slave trade here in the Caribbean, and that it never sees one single coin of that going up to the Crown.¡±


    ¡°Thorton?¡± said Trenton. ¡°Easy now¡ª¡±


    ¡°So spare me your loyalties to those two¡ª¡±


    ¡°Thorton!¡± Trenton hissed.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Trenton, it¡¯s fine. What is your position, Thornton? Explain it to me.¡±


    Put on the spot, it looked as though Thornton might wither, but he swallowed and faced Rogers and said, ¡°My position, sir, is that this all a stalling tactic. My position, sir, is that you are not so much concerned with fair slave prices as you are your own cut. My position, sir, is that this is all a charade, with you as its chief charlatan¡ª¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Thornton!¡± said Trenton. Chastened, the younger brother went silent. ¡°Forgive my brother, Captain. In our youth our parents loved him most, and spared him the rod. You know how it is.¡±


    ¡°Afraid I don¡¯t, sir,¡± Rogers said. ¡°I am an only child. And as an only child I quickly learned that when I¡¯m outnumbered the only person I can fall back on are the greater powers: God, Mother, and Father. Only now as an adult with them both dead, that has changed somewhat.¡±


    ¡°A man without family or friends is a lonely man, Captain, especially in a place like this.¡±


    ¡°You think I am in need of friends, Mr. Clement?¡±


    Trenton¡¯s smile said he understood at once what this whole meeting was about. ¡°I think you are, sir. And I could be that friend. If you would only review my excerpts from the Asientos de Negros.¡±


    Rogers leaned back in his seat, chewing lightly on his pipe. He looked out to the docks, lit up like a festival with all those lanterns, their light rippling in the water.


    He had to consider this carefully. The Asiento de Negros was a monopoly contract between the Spanish Crown and various merchants, and had outlined how the slave trade was to be conducted, with careful steps taken to ensure which African colonies could and could not be raided and what sorts of slaves could and could not be taken. The Spanish had rarely conducted the trade itself, instead contracting foreign merchants¡ªtypically the Portuguese, French, and even the British¡ªto do all the raiding for them. What the Clement brothers were proposing was creating a similar pact, only locally, between their company and Port Royal¡¯s leadership.


    A slave trade that cut out the Crown entirely. And covertly.


    The Clement brothers had the ships, they could very well do it, but it would circumvent a lot of paperwork and it would have to be so secretly done that the Crown never got a whiff. Because the unstated goal, of course, was for them to not have to pay a penny up to the Crown. Clement Brothers Trade Company would be a direct injection into the vein of the slave trade. A new kind of pirate, but made legal¡ªIf I can get them the right kind of contracts signed by the Admiralty Board.


    And Rogers was in a unique position to arrange it all. All of the Caribbean was in upheaval, but there was key trade to be made here as a halfway point between Britain and the New World. Governor Hamilton had his hands tied with a myriad of political rivals for his position, and the eyes of the Admiralty Office were looking in so many different directions that they had left daily defences and trade disputes up to Woodes Rogers, a privateer with a reputation for fighting pirates. Their many distractions left a gap, through which Rogers might insert his own ambitions.


    ¡°Tell you what,¡± Rogers said. ¡°Bring the price down on all slaves sold locally¡ªsay ten percent¡ªand pay five percent of your total earnings up to me directly, and then I will see if I can¡¯t speak to the Admiralty about helping you on.¡±


    Trenton seemed to sense a trap. ¡°And the Admiralty will not report this to the Crown?¡±


    ¡°Not if they are also given a taste of the profits, once your new business venture is up and running.¡±


    Suddenly Thorton snarled, ¡°That¡¯s triple-dipping! Quadruple! The more of you officious types get a cut, the less profit for us. What¡¯s in it for us¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mushrooms,¡± Rogers said. ¡°Upon my word, I nearly forgot the mushrooms.¡±


    ¡°Mushrooms?¡±


    ¡°As part of our arrangement, you and all your ships will go to St. Lucia Island each and every time you make a trip from Africa back into the Caribbean¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why on earth would we do¡ª¡±


    ¡°If you would be quiet a moment, Thorton,¡± spat the wiser of the two brothers, ¡°perhaps you will learn. Pray continue, Captain Rogers. My apologies.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. As I was saying, you will make your way through St. Lucia Island and meet up with agents of mine I have planted there, men who are learning all they can about the mushroom farms there. They are to confiscate certain components to those farms and bring some of the mushroom spores and such to help certain mushrooms grow here in Jamaica.¡±


    Trenton shrugged. ¡°I suppose we could make that happen, sir. Shouldn¡¯t be any trouble.¡±


    But Thorton couldn¡¯t keep his mouth shut about it. ¡°Why mushrooms?¡±


    ¡°Thorton!¡±


    Rogers smiled politely. ¡°I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re a whip-smart man, Thorton. I would have thought it all obvious by now.¡±


    ¡°Thought what obvious?¡±


    ¡°My dear fellow, do I really have to spell it out?¡± Rogers sighed. ¡°What is the only thing that grows in darkness? What sort of lifeform does not require sunlight, or even like it?¡±


    It seemed to slowly dawn on them.


    ¡°Crops are failing all over, gentlemen. The Crown has a plan to survive this firmament phenomenon, for as long as it lasts. But if we are to endure we must do so together. Can I count on you to help us in this new endeavour?¡±


    ¡°I believe we can make this work,¡± said Trenton shrugging. ¡°St. Lucia. As you say. It will be done, Captain Rogers. No problem at all. Except¡­the matter of Tortuga¡­¡±


    ¡°Tortuga?¡±


    ¡°Yes. The French control it now, and that is a problem.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡± Rogers asked, taking another draft of his pipe.


    ¡°Well, you see, Captain Rogers, my brother and I have half our slave ships on loan from a handful of French noblemen. Investors, you might say. And we have to pass through there regularly, to appease their minds and let them know we are not damaging their ships or short-changing them.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°In order for our arrangement to work, we must pass through Tortuga at least twice a year. Which means, of course, when I pass through there, my ships will be inspected by the bloody French.¡±


    ¡°Why is that a problem? You¡¯re friendly enough with the French, as I recall?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir, but slaves tend to go missing in Tortuga and other French ports. Officers taking their fair cut. To make this all worth it¡ªthat is, to make it so that I can afford to cut the cost of my slaves and pay you your three percent¡ª¡±


    ¡°Five percent,¡± Rogers reminded him with a smile.


    ¡°Five percent, forgive me. In order for me to afford all of this, I need to ensure my slaves will not become ¡®procured¡¯ in Tortuga.¡±


    ¡°Let me handle the damned French, gentlemen. The lieutenant-general owes me a favour.¡±


    Trenton seemed impressed. ¡°You know Ren¨¦ Duguay-Troulin?¡±


    ¡°As it happens, I do. As well as his whole slave-trading outfit.¡±


    ¡°Upon my word, sir, you certainly keep handsome company.¡±


    ¡°The handsomest. And I will travel to Tortuga myself very soon to visit Ren¨¦, to ensure you need never have fear of your slaves being ¡®procured¡¯ at port. Do we have deal? A drop in the cost of slaves ten percent, and five percent of all sales sent up to me?¡±


    ¡°Long as you can clear through the French ports¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can.¡±


    ¡°Well, then,¡± Trenton said. He held out his hand and Rogers shook it and they all rose to their feet. ¡°Thank you for time, Captain. Oh, and, well done on that maneuver at Coolidge Bay. Well done, indeed, sir.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. Have a good morning, gentlemen.¡±


    As soon as they were gone, Rogers turned his pipe upside-down and emptied out the dottle, then replaced the pipe in his coat. That was a fine, fine bit of business, and a good way to start the morning. He winced, checked his timepiece to see that it was, in fact, still morning.


    Now I just need to find a way of getting into Tortuga without getting killed. The price was still on his head, he assumed, for all he had done to French privateers a decade before. And one privateer in particular.


    ____


    The Old Church was quiet but for Father Olaf¡¯s words. The man truly knew his Scripture and no mistake, and could hold an audience in rapt attention for an hour or more. Naturally, the topics of his sermons tended towards the Long Night and the firmament, even if they were not mentioned directly. A part in Ecclesiastes about how coming together as a community in strife, a piece of Corinthians (for just as the body is one yet has many parts, and all the parts, though many, form one body, so it is with Christ), and other such glimpses into what Scripture had to say about coming together in hard times.


    Woodes Rogers alone in the back pew, looking over the heads of the flock, occasionally glancing down at the book he¡¯d brought with him. It was a book by a captain named Edmondson, who collected stories from various religions during his journeys throughout Asia in the 13<sup>th</sup> century. There was a single account in there that vexed him, and which Father Olaf had brought to his attention¡ªthe account of a Christian monk living in Mongolia during the 8<sup>th</sup> century claiming to have met the Legion, the demonic armies of Satan. The text said the Legion came during a ¡°long darkness¡± and that they ¡°swum up out of the sea looking like pigs at first, but pigs whose skins had been removed.¡±


    According to Edmondson¡¯s account, the monk had believed these to be the same pigs that Christ had banished into the sea, when he performed his exorcism and removed demons from a man and drove them into a herd of swine and forced them into the sea to drown themselves. Rogers didn¡¯t care about that part, he only cared about this phenomenon of prolonged darkness, and how it sounded much like what was going on right now.


    All throughout history, it seemed, there were records of unexplained Long Nights, and, increasingly, Rogers found it passing strange that no one had put all these accounts together in a single compendium.


    ¡°No one seems to have noticed the pattern,¡± he told Father Olaf after the service was over and all of his flock had filed out of the church. Rogers stood with Olaf amid the pews, the only light provided by candles around the room. ¡°I cannot fathom why these events have never been commented on by any scholars.¡±


    Olaf lifted a candle and went around the room lighting others. ¡°It is possible some learned men knew,¡± he said. ¡°It is also possible that they found themselves limited in their ability to spread the knowledge.¡±


    ¡°How so? The Church and universities are everywhere, and have been for centuries.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡­well, let us take the lesson of Martin Luther. He had his disagreements with the Church, did he not? And though he agreed that the Office of the Papacy was in fact the conduit of God on Earth, he felt the Church had lost its way. This was enough to get him accused of heresy, and he would have been executed, had it not been for his distribution of his theses.¡±


    Rogers winced. ¡°Remind me, how did that go?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± said Olaf, leaning back to crack his back, ¡°Martin Luther had something no other rebel before him ever had¡ªthe printing press. That allowed him to spread his ¡®rebellious¡¯ speech like no other man before. Even the Pope became powerless to contain Luther¡¯s words. They spread too far, too fast for the Church to stop. Like a wildfire, you might say. Thus the entire Lutheran movement was born.¡±


    Rogers tilted his head. ¡°But knowledge of the firmament has already spread far and wide. How can no one else make the connection to these past events?¡± He gestured to the book in his hands.


    ¡°We are far out here in the Caribbean, Captain,¡± Olaf chuckled. ¡°Perhaps learned men have made this connection, but they are far away, and being shouted over by powerful men in England and elsewhere.¡±


    But Rogers still could not believe it. ¡°It just seems strange, that you and I should see the Pattern when no one else can.¡±


    Olaf shrugged. ¡°To be honest, Captain, Martin Luther was not an entirely unique man, either. He wasn¡¯t especially wealthy, nor any sort of polymath genius, nor was he even the first man to speak as rebelliously as he did. But he gathered the mood of others, and wrote some of their thoughts down, sprinkled in his own, preached them, and made editorial decisions based on the reactions of others. Then he spread those refined thoughts through printing press. Others did the heavy lifting before him, but he was the first to communicate broadly the Church¡¯s problems.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying? That while you and I are not the first to put these pieces together, we might be the ones to spread the truth of this Pattern?¡±


    Olaf shrugged. ¡°Perhaps, Captain. I would advise you to pray on this.¡±


    ¡°I will, Father.¡± Rogers stuck out his hand and they shook. ¡°And I hope that I may recruit you to help spread this, as well. Perhaps it will calm people down to know that this has all happened before, and that humanity has survived it many times.¡±


    Olaf smiled, and said, ¡°Perhaps it will, Captain.¡±


    ¡°I only wonder, Father, about this monk who Captain Edmondson mentions. He says that monk claimed to have had an audience with the Legion, to have spoken directly to the leader himself over tea¡ªover tea, he says, like he was a normal man! The monk claimed the Leader tried to negotiate with the monk for the surrender of all men¡¯s souls. A most strange tale.¡±


    ¡°Yes, a most strange tale, indeed. Every priest has heard it, and almost all have dismissed it as lunacy. Others don¡¯t, however.¡±


    Rogers looked out at the window, out at the Long Night. He shivered just imagining such a confrontation. ¡°I wonder, what should a man do if faced with such a moment?¡±


    Father Olaf sighed heavily, and appeared to ruminate at length. At last he said, ¡°I should hope that any man faced with the Legion would be prepared to hold his own fears in check, keep his courage, remember God¡¯s divine love, and look the Enemy dead in his eyes and negotiate fairly for his own soul.¡±


    Rogers thanked him and left, feeling a certain weight had not been so much lifted, as shifted on his shoulders.


    As he made his way to the Fish Market, Rogers crossed in front of the hangman¡¯s platform. The crowd had dispersed, the three pirates were all still swinging lightly from the noose. By Rogers¡¯s own orders such pirates would remain up for two days, as a reminder to others. He stopped when he saw the young lad who he¡¯d heard speaking, and stood in front of him. ¡°Why the bloody fuck did you not just fight for England, lad?¡± The lad¡¯s two eyes stared dazedly out at nothing.


    Rogers glanced up at the sunless sky, at the gray, backlit clouds, and thought about Procopius and Cassiodorus¡¯s two separate accounts. This has happened before.


    He turned his back to the hanged men and walked on to his next meeting.

 Chapter 29: The Attack on Porto Bello

    carouser ¨C A person known to be reckless and loud and an excessive drinker.


    ON THE EVE of the attack on the Elizabeth, Capit¨¢n Del Campo consulted with Major Solucio in his villa, when it became evident the sun wasn¡¯t going to return anytime soon. ¡°This is what we¡¯ve been waiting for,¡± Del Campo said. ¡°A Long Night, one that gives us plenty of time to approach the Elizabeth from many angles, with many boats launched from the western beach, and then approaching around the mouth of the inlet from the north. No torches, no sounds, no calls. It will have to be well timed. According to the Frenchman, the senior African still makes his people keep strict dog-watches.¡±


    Solucio smiled as he poured a smooth, amber-coloured Codorn¨ªu, and handed it to Del Campo. ¡°Excellent work, Capit¨¢n. You are to be commended when this is over. In fact, I have asked the governor to offer you a station in the Chilo¨¦ Archipelago.¡±


    Del Campo¡¯s smile evaporated as he heard this. ¡°A transfer, sir?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. You¡¯ve earned it.¡±


    ¡°I¡­when?¡±


    ¡°You act as though you don¡¯t want the promotion!¡± Solucio said testily, though he tried to cover it with laughter.


    ¡°Is it? A promotion, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Of course it is. Do you know how many other men of your rank would give their wives to go there? There is much to do, an easy way to make a name for oneself. I thought you¡¯d be grateful.¡±


    ¡°I¡­I am, sir. I am.¡± He felt sick, the drink in his hand was all but forgotten. ¡°Thank you. But, when do I leave?¡±


    ¡°Before the operation with the Elizabeth is executed, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°But¡ªsir¡ªthe Elizabeth is still a touchy matter. They have militiamen on board still. I¡¯ve seen at least one of their red coats walking the deck daily.¡± Del Campo was almost despondent. ¡°I would be sad to miss the seizure of the sloop.¡±


    ¡°I know. And I¡¯m sorry to rob you of the final denouement of this story, but the timing suits. The governor has need of someone in the Archipelago who knows what they¡¯re doing, and he was impressed when I told him how you¡¯ve whipped your own regiment into shape. But don¡¯t worry, the Elizabeth will be well in hand without you.¡± They clinked glasses. ¡°While this Firmament Crisis may portend more evil things, this particular Long Night is fortuitous. Precisely what we¡¯ve been waiting for, is it not?¡±


    ¡°It is, sir,¡± Del Campo stammered to say. ¡°It is.¡±


    This was, as it turns out, exactly what the crew of the Hazard had been waiting for, too.


    ____


    LaCroix walked the busy cobbled streets of Porto Bello alone. If his stringy black hair and long, curled mustache did not make him stand out, his swagger surely did. He had drunk at every coffee-house, fucked every courtesan he met, and gambled the nights away more than a few times in every tavern in the stinking city. He acquainted himself of the culture, and availed himself of every vice and became a carouser of great repute, all the while learning more about this place. He learned the significance of certain flags on certain carriages, the etiquettes expected of the upper- and lower-class, and the meanings of coats of arms on guards¡¯ tabards. This he reported back to the Ladyman whenever they had chance to meet in some hallway of the fort, or in an alleyway in the city.


    LaCroix became a mainstay, even welcomed on a first-name basis in every tavern and hotel, for he was the only Frenchman in Porto Bello. At least, the only one most people were aware of. Some of the soldiers from Bateria de la Lanza would join him at night, joining in drunken revelry until the early-morning hours¡ªeven when the sun stopped coming up and some benandanti began performing their s¨¦ances and prayers in the street, to invite the sun to return¡ªhe would stay out drinking and cavorting.


    One of the benandanti witches was a dark-haired young woman he knew well, who had recently been taken in as an apprentice by the others. Anne Bonny barely looked like herself, even when she removed the grinning white mask. When she joined in a caf¨¦ in a secluded part of the city called Edlente, Anne at first pretended not to know him, then slid into a booth at the back when she was sure none of Del Campo¡¯s Viejos were about.


    ¡°Your performances are improving,¡± LaCroix said, scratching his crotch. There had been an itch recently and he was concerned he¡¯d caught something from one of the local whores. ¡°My compliments to you, mademoiselle.¡±


    ¡°Why are we meeting like this?¡± she said, keeping her voice down and making sure her hood had been pulled over her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re only supposed to signal me when we are making the final move.¡±


    ¡°I need your help.¡±


    ¡°With what?¡±


    He downed the last of his coffee, trying to sober up after an all-nighter. ¡°Follow me.¡±


    The fletcher¡¯s shop LaCroix was looking for was also here in Edlente, and it was purportedly the only one in Porto Bello. Bows and arrows had practically vanished as viable weapons of war, but there were still local hunters who required a good fletcher to supply them with suitable arrows.


    LaCroix approached the fletcher just as he was about to close shop. He was a middle-aged man, handsome, with callused and cracked hands that were hanging the closed sign on his door. LaCroix did not introduce himself or Anne, he merely said, ¡°I understand you have something called a rotar-filer. You use it to file down the ends of your metal arrowheads.¡±


    The fletcher spoke in strained English. ¡°I no more sell tonight. Closing now.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to buy any new arrows. I want to buy your waste.¡±


    The fletcher stared at him, nonplused. ¡°Pardon, se?or?¡±


    ¡°The metal filings. What do you do with them when you are done?¡± LaCroix opened up the purse Anne had given him. Because LaCroix had spent or lost all his money whoring and gambling. Many gold doubloons rattled inside. ¡°Because I¡¯ve heard you have barrels. And I only need to buy one.¡±


    ¡°Just¡­just the metal shavings, se?or?¡± He shook his head, not understanding.


    ¡°Yes. Oh, and, any bows and arrows you have lying around. Any at all, doesn¡¯t matter the quality.¡±


    Later that night, LaCroix and Anne rolled a barrel up a dark, empty street of Porto Bello, and loaded it onto the back of a wagon Anne had purchased with her money. They drove that wagon out of the city, into the jungle, where they met Jenkins waiting on a nameless dirt road. He and LaCroix took it from there, all the way back to Bateria de la Lanza. They were both so popular they were permitted past the north gate with only a nominal inspection of the things they had in the back. The metal shavings inside the barrel were explained away as necessary for alchemical testing. ¡°Bonnehill¡± explained to them it was a passing interest of Miss Julia¡¯s. They were admitted without another word.


    When LaCroix hopped off the wagon, he handed the forged iron key to Jenkins, and said, ¡°Get this to him.¡±


    ____


    ¡°I received your letter from Mr. Bonnehill, and sent Del Campo away, just as you asked,¡± said Major Solucio. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about any inappropriate advances from him again, my lady. I assure you, Capit¨¢n Del Campo left this morning.¡± They spoke over wine. Or, rather, he spoke, and the Ladyman listened quietly. He only whispered a small ¡°thank you¡± while standing beside him at the window of the living room in his villa, overlooking the sea. Overlooking the Hazard, still anchored in the inlet.


    John unclasped his cloak, the one the major had given him as a Christmas gift, and spun it off his shoulders. His coat and skirts were richly brocaded with gold threads, and puffs of white lace from beneath his cuffs partially covered his hands. His eyes raked over the beach, where hours ago he hd seen the many lanterns of Del Campo¡¯s unit as they traveled up the beach and around the north end, heading west, away from Bateria de la Lanza.


    ¡°It was my pleasure,¡± said Solucio. ¡°And the least I could do. And I don¡¯t mind doing this kind of thing. I¡¯ve had to make many difficult decisions in my years of ordering around pigheaded men.¡±


    The major then launched into the many burdens of command, and John listened, still wearing his hat, always keeping a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Together, he and Solucio watched the red moon chase the two yellow moons. Their combined light allowed them both to see the strange, swirling lumps of black creatures out at sea. A phenomenon occurring more frequently these days. Monsters of all sorts seemed to materialize during Long Nights. This particular Long Night was the most bizarre yet, the moons always excitable in the sky, sometimes changing the directions of their orbits.


    John felt a hand on his lower back. He flinched ever so slightly, then relaxed, giving the major the sense that he had broken some new ground with Miss Julia. He saw Solucio smile.


    Now, John thought.


    ¡°May I have some more wine?¡± he whispered.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Solucio, and took John¡¯s glass. Before he turned away from the window, he said, ¡°What do you think it all means? Do the priests have it right, and these are the End of Days? Or do the benandanti have the gauge of the Universe better, and there are no real gods, only aspects of Creation, almost like spirits, that were here long before any of us, and will be here long after we¡¯re gone? Or what about this English poet-sailor, Vhingfrith, who says it is some disturbance in the normal machinations of the Universe, and that our world is now rudderless, a ship at the whims of random currents in this firmament? Perhaps it is somehow all three. Perhaps all three are happening at once.¡±


    He looked into Miss Julia¡¯s beautiful blue eyes. They seemed to be smiling back at him.


    ¡°I know, I know, I sound like a tired old philosopher. Anita, my dearly departed wife, she always said that I was only born to be a soldier, nothing more, and that that ought to be enough. She also said that had I bore her a son, she would have¡ª¡± That was as far as he got, before the dagger was plunged into the side of his neck, then slashed out, opening his jugular wide and sending him spinning, clutching his throat to try to contain the fountain of dark-red blood shooting out of it.


    When the major¡¯s eyes found Miss Julia standing there, the bloody blade in her hand and her handkerchief removed for the first time, he gaped in horror at a face that appeared to hold devilish features. He struggled a moment to find a door, but the Ladyman blocked him at every turn, planting a high-heeled, green-embroidered shoe against his chest and kicking him backward each time.


    Solucio might have been shocked by Miss Julia¡¯s power. But some part of him knew. He just knew he had been tricked by a devil. A changeling. A shapeshifter.


    Major Solucio tried to scream. Blood came out instead of air or voice. He felt hot blood filling his lungs. He made one attempt to raise an alarm, knowing somehow this was the work of pirates. He just instantly knew, and, even as he thought it, he looked around and spotted Anita¡¯s ghost standing by the window. Solucio mustered up his last bit of strength to perform a duty. He picked up a table and launched it across the room to smash it against a wall. It made such a clatter that surely someone ought to come.


    When he fell, gargling and spasming, Major Alonso Solucio reached for an envelope-opener that had fallen to the floor, and slashed out at Miss Julia¡¯s feet, slicing her right ankle before she leapt back. In a widening pool of his own blood, he gaped up at the ceiling, and before darkness took him, he spoke the Lord¡¯s Prayer into his heart, and tried to imagine the gates of Heaven opening to him.


    All went dark.


    ____


    John looked down at his bleeding ankle. ¡°God damn it¡ª¡±


    Then he heard the ruckus. Outside in the hallway. With his last breath, the major had caused a commotion. John went to the door and made sure that it was barred. He waited a moment as raised voices approached the door.


    The calls came from his African servants, and a single soldier that stood guard just down the hall, a man named Antonio. Antonio knocked on the door and asked if everything was all right.


    John licked his lips. His voice had to be perfect, but he might pass as Solucio if he sounded a bit groggy, even embarrassed. ¡°Estoy bien,¡± he said. John had rehearsed both Solucio¡¯s and Del Campo¡¯s voices in private, should he need to impersonate their voices during tonight¡¯s raid. But he had not imagined it would be under these circumstances. ¡°Estoy bien¡­eh¡­nosotras nos¡­emocionada.¡± He tried to keep it simple. Sound out of breath. Like the major and Miss Julia had been fucking and something embarrassing had gone wrong. He dismissed them all, and waited to see if it had worked.


    He thought he heard good-humoured chuckles from the other side of the door. And then retreating footsteps.


    John looked back at the vandalized room, the corpse at the center on a frayed rug now forever stained by a still-thickening pool of blood. It was deserving of remark, he supposed, just how patriotic the man remained until the end, trying to warn anybody as to the disease that he must have surmised, at the end, now infected his fortress. How horrified he must have been to know that he had let pirates into his house¡ªinvited them in.


    ¡°Your duty to Bateria de la Lanza and to Spain was commendable, sir,¡± John whispered, tearing off a piece of the man¡¯s shirt and wrapping it around his bleeding ankle. ¡°But that duty is over. Rest now.¡±


    He wasted no more time. He lifted one of the candles off the dining-room table and put it in the window. He waved a cloth in front of it five times, then three, then two. Then he waited. A single flash of a lantern from Hazard¡¯s stern, easily noticeable in the night, atop waters glowing in alternating hues of red and yellow, told him his message was received.


    John forced his wig back on¡ªhe¡¯d only removed it so that the major would have less to grab onto if they got into a struggle¡ªand made sure it was snug before he put on his berg¨¨re hat. He could wait only a few minutes for Antonio and the servants to settle down, no more. He had to be on the move.


    Checking his timepiece, he saw that it was half past what ought to be one in the morning. As if time still matters at all when traveling in the firmament, he thought, lifting the bar slowly off the door and then ever so gently cracking it open.


    Except for Antonio, the hallway was clear. John stepped out, covering his face with his handkerchief, and said, ¡°The major is, ahem¡­very tired. Spent. He asks not to be disturbed for one half-hour.¡±


    Antonio nodded politely, but a little knowing smile could not be missed.


    John made it to the steps, passed the servants¡¯ quarters, then through the kitchen and out the back door. Once in the back yard, he kicked off his shoes and ran, through the jungle, around the circumference of Solucio¡¯s villa, and then crested the hill. Birds scattered before him, flew high into the sky, and plummeted once the red moon came racing overhead and confused them.


    From his vantage point, John looked down into the inlet. Cuervo Cove looked perfectly calm. But he knew, somewhere in all that darkness, that many boats were being put into the water to utterly surround the Hazard and kill what was left of her crew.


    From inside his blouse, underneath the stuffing he had used to simulate breasts, the Ladyman withdrew the key LaCroix had forged from the wax impression. Clutching it tight, he lowered himself into a crouch, and made for the cliffs, moving towards the fortress.


    ____


    There were no docks around the north or south ends of the inlet, so the remaining Viejos Del Campo left behind were forced to lower their boats into a second, smaller inlet called El Cuerpo Peque?o, where a calm river flowed into the sea. Sargento Agust¨ªn Escajeda directed his men to lower the boats into the river, using the specially made wooden cranes designed by the Frenchman, who also helped the men drop the boats into the water.


    Behind Escajeda was the vast Lagarto wilderness. A jungle where a tremendous amount of seawater had become trapped from a tidal wave forty-seven years before, contained in a bowl-like dip in the earth, eroding large stretches and turning it all into a miasmic, marshy landscape, filled with quicksand and rotting trees ensnared by vines. Escajeda and his people were covered in mud because they had had to pass through all that marsh to get here.


    Escajeda stood on the edge of the cliff, using spyglass to look down at the Elizabeth. The waters glittered with the reflection of the crimson moon, making the Elizabeth easy to spot. The Frenchman had convinced about half of the African crew to leave the Elizabeth and come ashore to enjoy all that Porto Bello had to offer, leaving a very small fighting force aboard the sloop-of-war.


    The plan was to drop the boats here, as well as on the south end of the inlet¡¯s mouth, and converge on the Elizabeth and force the remaining crew off her. Those who surrendered would be detained, those who resisted killed, the sloop taken to some other friendly port as a prize, and this small operation would allow Spain¡¯s navy to move just one step closer to matching England¡¯s. Escajeda¡¯s heart beat with excitement at the thought of seeing some fighting, and his chest swelled with pride when he thought of what this night mean. Small victories like this one could, in time, win them the war against England. It could¡ª


    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± whispered Martinez. The private stood next to him in the dark, barely visible since they weren¡¯t using torches.


    ¡°Hear what?¡± Escajeda replied.


    Martinez raised his musket, and pointed it around at the jungle behind them. The trees made a complete wall of darkness. Birds like laughing falcons and harpy eagles made strange noises¡ªduring any Long Night, it seemed like the birds were always going mad. Escajeda shrugged. ¡°I see nothing but¡ª¡± Something punched him in the chest, preceded by only a sharp hissing. He looked down at the shaft sticking out of his chest. The second arrow hit Martinez in his throat. The volley that followed stippled his men and only half of them got out a scream before firing wildly into the dark.


    An arrow struck Escajeda in his shoulder and he fell on his ass, gasping for air. He groped around in the dark for his partizan, lifted it, and pointed it at the dark.


    Before his men could reload, a wall of dark men emerged from the black jungle like they were made from it. Africans! Naked but for loincloths and body paint! They came forward with large round shields and spears, looking like the drawings Escajeda had seen of African tribal warriors!


    He broke the shaft of the arrow in half, stood up, and grunted out a call to fight.


    For a fierce two minutes there was battle between well-regimented soldiers and stealthy ambushers who fought savagely. Shields batted away bayonets and partizans, revealing openings for the spears to pierce the Spaniards. Escajeda did not know that the spear that opened his throat belonged to Akil kaKhayi, prince of the Hadza tribe. Neither did Akil kaKhayi know that he had just killed a sergeant, who was the son of a noble family. Even after spending months out at sea, after training Bogoa and his people to fight like men of Hadza, and coordinating with Captain Laurier while pirating around the Colonies and raiding villages, Akil had never quite understood the purpose of having so many military ranks.


    When he pulled his spear out of the sergeant¡¯s throat, Akil whispered to his men, ¡°Get the boats. Finish lowering them down to the sea. LaCroix will show you how.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, I will, mon ami,¡± laughed the Frenchman, who had known the ambush was coming and kept himself hidden inside one of the boats until the fighting was done. He showed the Africans how to work the pully system, the levers being similar to those on the bilge pump they had been learning how to use aboard the Hazard.


    ¡°Noala, signal the Hazard. Bogoa, take your men and row the boats around to the docks and form the beachhead when it is time.¡±


    The left half of Bogoa¡¯s face, the marred side, was concealed in shadow, but as the yellow moons now maneuvered overhead, the pits of his face shifted. He nodded once and led his twenty men to the boats. Noala lifted the shroud from her lantern and waved it from the edge of the cliff until she saw the signal from the Hazard¡¯s crow¡¯s nest.


    ¡°Almost there, mon ami,¡± the Frenchman said, smiling under yellow moonlight.


    ¡°We not there yet, LaCroix,¡± Akil said. ¡°Anne Bonny and Captain waiting on us. Some of us will die.¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± LaCroix grinned. ¡°I wonder which ones, and do I get their shares?¡±


    ____


    When Okoa saw the signal from the cliffs, he gave a soft squeeze of Isaacson¡¯s shoulder, and Isaacson sank to his belly and slithered almost like a serpent across the quarterdeck. He had to be careful, for though it was night, the three revolving moons would make it easy for someone on a nearby boat to spot movement on Hazard¡¯s deck.


    Having spent the entire night without lights on the ship, Okoa¡¯s eyes were now adapted enough to the dark that he could see Isaacson going about the various stations, whispering to both the English and African crew to prepare. ¡°Steady on,¡± he whispered. ¡°Steady on, all. Courage now. They¡¯ll be along in but a moment.¡±


    Okoa looked up. Hiding in the masts, amid the curled sheets, was Jaime. The Scotsman was in charge of directing the Africans clinging to the ratlines beside and below him.


    Hazard bobbed lightly in the dark water. Okoa looked to port, towards the inlet¡¯s mouth, knowing that lurking somewhere in all that darkness were half a dozen boats filled with Viejos, all of them confused as to why their friends had not joined them. Okoa then looked to starboard, towards the beach. Rising above it were the torches that illuminated each of Bateria de la Lanza¡¯s five levels. He could just make out a few patrols along the walls. Looking down at the intervening black water, he could barely make out the silhouette of Dobbs¡¯s boat, lightly paddling towards shore.


    ____


    Once he figured he was within fifty yards of the docks, Dobbs boated his oars and laid flat on his belly, and grabbed one of the ten preloaded muskets and sighted down its barrel, aiming at one of the Viejos he spotted patrolling the pier. Captain Laurier¡¯s long-term plan had worked, and with Del Campo¡¯s leaving, he¡¯d taken almost half his unit to protect him on his long journey to the Chilo¨¦ Archipelago. Del Campo had left with a dozen horses and almost as many pack mules. But, in Del Campo¡¯s mind, and surely in Major Solucio¡¯s, they had still had plenty of Viejos to defend a secret port and overtake a single English sloop-of-war with less than half of an unblooded African crew aboard.


    Dobbs licked his finger and held it up, gauging the wind the way his father had taught him. East-to-west, at one-half value. He remained lying down, waiting for the signal.


    Just then, he heard something scraping underneath the boat. Dobbs looked around. After a moment, the boat rocked, like someone was under it. He held his breath in fear at the memory of what transpired on the Rio Grande all those months ago. The things that pulled half of Bogoa¡¯s face off. The Behemoth¡ª


    After a few moments, when nothing happened, Dobbs¡¯s heart settled down. A little. He re-sighted down the barrel. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, still waiting for the signal.


    After a few minutes, he became aware of a dozen or so boats sliding across the ink-black waters to his port side. They were coming from the north, but they were not moving towards Hazard. Dobbs smiled. Akil and Noala had done it, they had secured enough boats for the treasure.


    ____


    Sargento Jose de Paz sat in a boat with ten other men, waiting. They had just deployed from the beach around the southern bend of the inlet and were within sight of the Elizabeth¡ªthe ship was still sitting where it had been for weeks now, right out in the open, dark but for a single lantern lit in the captain¡¯s quarters.


    What is taking Escajeda? de Paz thought. The frustration was difficult to keep in check. Unable to check his timepiece in the dark, he could only estimate the time that had elapsed since they left shore. Escajeda¡¯s people ought to have lowered the boats into the water on the north side of the inlet. Unless that Frenchman¡¯s crane system failed and the boats cannot be lowered. I warned Escajeda not to trust that contraption without first testing it.


    But there was no use crying over it. No use at all. If Escajeda and the others didn¡¯t show soon, de Paz resolved that he and his men would go in and finish the mission. This could be their best shot, for at any moment the sun could suddenly rise, putting an end to the Long Night. If that happened, the crew of the Elizabeth might see they were being raided. Sensing betrayal from Captain Bonnehill, they may just let fly their sheets and set sail. Of course, they likely wouldn¡¯t get very far, not since they were within range of the fort¡¯s cannons, especially those new twelve-pounders.


    Still. Didn¡¯t want the major¡¯s prize ship damaged.


    ¡°We¡¯ll give them until the red moon makes another pass overhead,¡± de Paz whispered to his men. He pointed to the horizon as the crimson moon dipped below the horizon. ¡°If they aren¡¯t here by then, all the glory will be ours.¡±


    There were a few grins in the darkness.


    ____


    The cache of weapons was buried beneath a holly tree at the edge of the forest that surrounded the fortress¡¯s highest entrance, upon the very top of the cliff. The cache had been buried at some point by LaCroix, at John¡¯s orders. John had no lantern, he operated by feel and by the shifting moonlights. By the time he had grabbed the shovel left by LaCroix, and uncovered the top layer of dirt, a pair of whistles came from different points in the night.


    He whistled in return. From his right, Anne materialized wearing a man¡¯s clothes, black boots and brown jerkin, hair tucked underneath a black headband. By her side was Roche, who moved like a lumbering hulk, a hatchet in each hand. Without saying anything, John handed Anne a pair of primed and loaded pistols, which she tucked into her belt. Then he handed her a belt with cutlass and sheath. Roche already had his axe looped in a rope around his waist.


    From John¡¯s left emerged the other whistler, Jenkins, whose face was done up in mud. When John saw him, he could not but snort and chuckle. Anne laughed, too. ¡°What?¡± Jenkins said. ¡°Didn¡¯t want nobody to see me.¡±


    ¡°It shall be a moot point in a moment, my fr¡ª¡± John cut himself off and swung around and aimed a pistol at movement in the dark. A whistle sounded out a moment later, and Akil emerged with fifteen of his men, all of them carrying spears and shields, weapons that, according to Akil, his people were most familiar with. ¡°Damn it, Akil, I nearly bloody shot you!¡±


    ¡°Apologies, Captain. We got, eh¡­lost?¡± He tried the word out, and nodded when he decided it was correct. Okoa had been teaching him English these last few months. ¡°There be fifteen steps up the western side, not sixteen like LaCroix say, so I thought we were at the wrong¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s quite all right, no operation goes off without a hitch,¡± John said, pulling on a brace of four pistols. He knew Akil had a strange relationship with numbers, he counted almost everything, even his breaths throughout the day. It made him precise in his military tactics, but if even one number was off¡ªlike the number of steps¡ªit could throw him off. Quite the bizarre mental affliction.


    John took a moment to gauge the movements of the moons, then looked at the whites of all their eyes. Some of them were no more than dark silhouettes that half melded with the trees. ¡°All right, lads, this is it. It¡¯s going to be bloody work, but you all knew and agreed to that months ago. This is what we trained ourselves up and down the American Coast for, making ourselves the scourge of Colonists everywhere.¡±


    They all nodded. Some of them laughed.


    ¡°You all saw that life is no better for your people in the Colonies than anywhere else. The only way revolution begins is by funding. Funding comes from treasure. So if you want your bloody fucking freedom, and you want to keep it for all time, you¡¯re going to have to fight. Now, these Spaniards enslave us all, just as much as the bloody English do. They are not your friends.¡± He looked at the Africans. ¡°Every single soldier inside that fort has seen one of your kind slapped around, beaten, put in chains, and murdered for lack of obedience. They¡¯ve seen it dozens of times by now and they don¡¯t care. They don¡¯t care! So kill them. Kill them all and let God or the fucking Behemoth sort them out.¡±


    They did not cheer. They didn¡¯t dare if they wanted their plot to remain secret until the very last moment. Until it was too late for anyone in Porto Bello to do anything. But some of them chuckled, or clucked and hissed in the way John had learned some African warriors did just before battle. He didn¡¯t know the true meaning, but he knew the intent. They were ready to fight and die.


    John secured his cutlass at his hip. The small, fist-sized buckler shield was gripped in his left hand. The dagger he¡¯d killed the major with was in his right. ¡°For the Hazard,¡± he said, and kissed the silver locket around his neck.


    ¡°For the Hazard,¡± they quietly intoned. For now, the Hazard meant everything to them. It meant freedom, it meant treasure, it meant seizing destiny.


    It meant the world.


    ____


    While Bateria de la Lanza was usually loud in the day, what with combat exercises, cannon practice, and dockworkers calling out across the beach to the crews of cargo ships that came and went, at night the five-level cliffside fort was quiet. Few ships knew of the secret entrance into Cuervo Cove, and those that did knew that entering or leaving at night was forbidden. And so, unless a signal came from one of the soldiers of the lighthouse a mile away, there was very little to do.


    Especially with so many of the regulars now gone with Capit¨¢n Del Campo.


    The halls were mostly dark, with the occasional torch sitting in a wall sconce to light an intersection. The corridors were made of cobblestone and wood, and they were generally very narrow. Some guards sat near the battery and played card games, the cards laid out on top of a barrel of gunpowder sitting next to the cannons.


    The men took turns switching out the watches every two hours¡ªsimilar to the dog-watches on a ship¡ªbut a soldier would relieve his friend if he saw the fellow was struggling to stay awake. It was relaxed. Sometimes senior officers even allowed a half-ration of rum as a reward for those who stood fast against the Long Night.


    Out at sea, something swam just beneath the surface. A leviathan, creating a momentary whirlpool the size of a galleon. One of the watchmen on the fort¡¯s fifth level spotted it by spyglass, the movement made obvious under the light of two yellow moons. Sometimes this became an attraction, like tonight, when groups of soldiers would come have a look through the spyglass to look at the phenomenon, if only to relieve the boredom. Sometimes, like tonight, the men would share their theories about what they believed the Firmament Crisis was really all about, what was causing it.


    Neither pirate nor Spanish patriot saw it, but directly below them something came walking out of the water, and moved rapidly across the shadow cast by the cliff, slithering up the beach. Something large.


    ____


    For the last two weeks, both Laurier and LaCroix had been walking these corridors to map them out. LaCroix had been useful to Del Campo, and was liked well enough by the soldiers that reveled with him in town that he often gained access to the barracks, watchtowers, and batteries. John, accompanied by Del Campo or Solucio, had been allowed to see some of the finer living quarters of the officers. Between the two of them, there wasn¡¯t a corridor in which they could get turned around.


    The main guard gate on the top of the cliff was no problem. Two soldiers, that¡¯s all that was left. And they were both befuddled and unprepared for Miss Julia, who came running out to them, all distressed. She fell into the arms of one of the guards, who asked, ¡°What is wrong, se?orita? Who is¡ª¡±


    John drove the dagger under his ribs, and the man gasped, just as Akil rushed out of the shadows to skewer the second guard, who came running out to see what was the matter.


    John patted one of the men down for his keys, and moved to the door. Two of the former African slaves, large men named Abi and Omari, dragged the dead guards into the woods. John opened the door and they were all staring down into stone steps, lit only by a single torch. John moved by memory (Del Campo had been very proud to show off the secret topside entrance to the fort) and they slid inside.


    Down two passageways, taking a left, pasting themselves to walls to let a trio of guards go walking through the hallway up ahead, then down another set of stairs, to the fourth level. An unlucky guard was stepping out of the lavatory, about to dump his waste bucket out a window and down to the beach, when he clapped eyes on John, Anne, Jenkins, Roche, and a bundle of Africans coming his way. Roche rushed him, slashed his throat open with a swing of a hatchet, but not before he got out half a yell.


    ¡°Alphonse?¡± said a voice from another hallway.


    John jerked a pistol from his brace, but Anne was already running to the doorway at the end of the hall, through which a white-jacketed sergeant emerged, looking around, and she clamped a hand over his mouth while she pressed his back against a wall and rammed her dagger under his ribs and twisted.


    But the body fell loudly, as did the body of the man Roche killed, and the commotion seemed to attract the attention of someone down another corridor. They heard someone calling out to the other guards.


    ¡°Move!¡± John hissed.


    They rushed down one dark corridor after the next, then down a set of narrow stairs, to the third level, following the Ladyman, for he was the only one who knew the way to the vault.


    Any second now, an alarm will be raised all over the fort, all over the inlet. One of Solucio¡¯s servants will check on him, or one of these dead guards will be found. It was impossible to know in which order any of it would happen, but he was certain it would happen. And that¡¯s when things would start to go wrong. The question was, had they built up enough assets, momentum, and headway through preplanning to allow themselves to outrun the consequences?


    Even as the Ladyman pondered it, two things happened almost simultaneously. Across the inlet, one of Major Solucio¡¯s servants did indeed find his body, and alerted the guard, who rushed out to ring a bell to raise the alarm. And a guard named Ramone, who had the night off, returned unexpectedly on horseback because he¡¯d forgotten his uniform, which he needed to have cleaned in town. Ramone happened to see the blood in the grass where the two guards had been murdered topside, and began running through the halls blowing a whistle.


    Someone on the floor above the pirates heard it, and rang a bell. And then many bells were clamoring as one.


    Oblivious to all this, John led his people through a corridor that opened into a study. To Akil, he said, ¡°Douse those torches on the wall. Guard this door.¡± Akil assigned six men to do it. John, Anne, and Jenkins worked in the dark, pushing a bookshelf to one side, exposing a false panel in the walls. Anne opened the curtains to let some moonlight in, and John used his pick-lock to open the hidden door behind the panel. Once inside, he whispered to Jenkins to light his lantern, and they traversed a long, hollow, cylindrical corridor that had been bored into the wall decades ago when Bateria de la Lanza was first built. At the end of the corridor was a large iron door.


    John used the forgery of Del Campo¡¯s special key to unlock it, his gut in knots as he feared the worst¡ªthat somehow LaCroix had screwed up in making the forgery, that the smithee he¡¯d used had done subpar work, or that John himself had pickpocketed the wrong key, even though he knew that was impossible because he¡ª


    With a sharp and satisfying click, the iron door parted slightly. It took all of John¡¯s and Akil¡¯s strength to pull it open. The door moaned loudly on rusted hinges.


    ¡°Jenkins, shine your light in there, for the love of God!¡± he hissed.


    Jenkins lifted his lantern, and what they stood facing were two walls of treasure chests, each one the size of a fat pig. Some of the silver was in bags, or simply dumped in wheelbarrows. Open bags filled with coins of every type: louis d¡¯ors, guineas, pieces of eight, doubloons, and others. There were shelves of golden statues and jade trinkets and ruby necklaces. John laughed, and stood in front of it all. There were two wooden crates filled with bejeweled tiaras and sceptres. Silk dresses of blue (the rarest colour) were neatly folded and stacked in a crate beside silk shirts embroidered with gemstones. Emeralds and diamonds were in large brown sacks, stacked in a wheelbarrow. Gold jewelry was collected in a heap on the floor, just tossed there, as if in overflow.


    Anne and Akil gaped at it all.


    ¡°Sink me,¡± Jenkins said in awe, playing his light around. ¡°My God, Captain.¡±


    The silver sparkled in the lanternlight, and John spared only a single self-congratulatory smile, then said, ¡°Akil, get a man outside, have him send Okoa the signal. And send rest of the boys up here to start loading it all. It¡¯s now or bloody never, boyos! Yo-ho!¡±


    ¡°Yo-ho,¡± answered Anne.


    ¡°My God,¡± Jenkins whispered again.


    John slapped him, shook him. ¡°Time to move!¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­yes¡­but my God¡­¡±


    ____


    Sargento Jose de Paz was just about ready to call out to his people to put their oars to water, and begin rowing towards the Elizabeth, when he spotted a flashing light halfway up the cliff face¡ªon the third level of the fort, there was a lantern winking in strange fashion. And then de Paz saw something that caused him panic. Up and down the length of the sloop, there was suddenly activity. He saw it by blood-red moonlight, men climbing the ratlines and letting sheets fall. Those sheets bloomed. The sails were angled so as to harness the wind, and someone was on the quarterdeck, spinning the wheel like the devil¡¯s whip was at him.


    ¡°Something¡¯s going on!¡± de Paz said. ¡°They¡¯ve seen us or¡­¡± Just then, in the distance, so faint as to almost not be heard, there was a clanging of bells. It carried softly across the water. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong! Put your oars to work, amigos! Row! Now! Row for your loves! Row if you ever want to see¡ª¡±


    The hail of arrows came arching through the dark. Most of them embedded in the boats or in a man¡¯s face or leg, but some of them struck men in the chest. Some of de Paz¡¯s men panicked, and pulled out their pistols and muskets and began firing in blind rage at the Elizabeth. But the ship remained dark, so that no one could see their target.


    Meanwhile we¡¯re out here on the sea, with moons setting behind us, framing us in light! God, the archers can see us plainly¡ª


    And as another volley came slashing down from the stars, it suddenly occurred to de Paz that the tables had turned, that they, not the Elizabeth¡¯s crew, were the sitting ducks. But still they fired. Enraged, de Paz drew his own pistol and fired, reloaded with some difficulty in the dark, and fired again. An arrow hit him in the arm. One of many arrows purchased by LaCroix only days before. Not many men could fire arrows in a combat situation anymore, the practice was almost extinct, but the African tribal warriors were still perfecting it. John Laurier had played to his crew¡¯s strengths, and the advantage was that the arrows made no spark like gunpowder, so none of de Paz¡¯s men could clock where on the ship their targets were shooting from.


    They were forced to watch as the sloop-of-war maneuvered itself deeper into the inlet. Closer to the fort. Within range of its many cannons. And as he lay on his boat, trying to pull the arrow out of his arm, de Paz at least had the satisfaction of knowing the ship would be pulverized to flinders in a matter of moments.


    When the sloop opened up her cannons on the fort, however, de Paz was surprised. The Elizabeth¡¯s cannons might be able to sink a ship at sea, and even hit the beach from this distance, possibly destroy some of the docks, but those cannons would not be able to reach above the first level of the fortress. And even if a shot hit, it would not be able to do any damage.


    He laughed to himself. He couldn¡¯t wait to see them be obliterated. They are fools! Idiotic buffoons who don¡¯t know what they¡¯re in for!


    ____


    Dobbs ducked his head reflexively when the Hazard¡¯s cannons thundered as one, even though he knew the shots would go clear over his head. He watched the first of the docks explode into splinters, and the Viejo he¡¯d been targeting dove into the water out of fear. Dobbs panned his rifle over to the next soldier, one with a lantern clipped to his hip, and who was brave enough to raise his musket towards Hazard¡¯s dark shape.


    Dobbs squeezed the trigger.


    The musket boomed and the Spaniard¡¯s head snapped back and he fell, firing his shot wildly into the air. Before he¡¯d even stopped twitching, Dobbs set the spent musket down on his left, and lifted one of the loaded rifles on his right, re-sighting in five seconds on his next target, a white-uniformed sergeant running towards the beach to see about his friends.


    ____


    Akil recalled his father telling him about moments like these, when just before the enemy strikes, you can see the uncertainty of the warriors on either side of you. Two animals are battling for supremacy inside the heart of every man, his father told him. A lion, and an antelope. Part of him wants to fight, the other part of him sees the sense in running. Warriors must silence their antelopes. Their leader must slay his.


    Standing in the dark corridor, he watched Omari return with his lantern. ¡°It is done. The Hazard saw my signal.¡±


    Indeed, Akil could already hear Hazard¡¯s cannons booming. ¡°Get behind the others. Shield and spear up.¡±


    Omari did as bidden, and took up the shield wall behind Akil, at the four-way junction of the hallway. They could hear raised voices echoing from all over the hallways, but did not know from which way the first attack would come. Akil lightly paced in front of the shield wall, letting his six warriors see him unafraid. Men needed to see their leader unconcerned, yet focused.


    As they listened to more clattering boots, more shouts of alarm, more bells ringing, Akil¡¯s heart called out to Ogun to grant him strength. He tapped his spear against his shield, and began humming deep, deep in his throat. The others did the same. Akil likened this to the time he had stood before the Konuri warriors that came to kill his mother, who was in childbed. He had waited until dusk, until at last the first hail of arrows came down on him, attempting to assassinate him and his sister, the as-yet-unborn princess.


    From outside came the boom of many cannons as one, as Hazard fired on the beach. Their thunder was like the thunder on that day when he faced the Konuri warriors¡¯ leader on the field, with Ogun watching from within his angry storm clouds.


    Akil liked the Ladyman¡¯s plan. He had approved of it a month ago when Laurier first started laying it out. But this part of the plan was Akil¡¯s. Find a good junction, see which way the first wave would come from, and then, rather than hunker down and hold them off, rush at the enemy. And, at the very center of the junction where they now stood, there was a single trapdoor, which could be opened to access the floor below. LaCroix had found that on one of his many tours of the fort, and had told Akil precisely where the trapdoor was.


    When Akil heard the voices coming from below, he counted them. Six different voices. He whispered, ¡°Now.¡±


    Omari grabbed the door handle, waiting. Mandla and Kayin took their grenadoes out of the bag. Faraji struck a match, lighting their fuses. Omari cracked the trapdoor a smidge, and Mandla and Kayin tossed their grenadoes in.


    ¡°Back away!¡± Akil cried.


    When the Frenchman¡¯s bombs exploded, they forced a rush of hot air up through the tunnel, lifting the trapdoor a moment. There were screams from below; no doubt the men that had been about to climb the ladder had either been torn apart or had shrapnel rip through their bodies. Akil had seen the grenadoes effect on the creature that grabbed Bogoa in the Rio Grande, and so the Spaniards had his sympathies.


    ¡°Akil!¡± whispered Mosi, the short, stout boy. ¡°I hear footsteps¡ª¡±


    Four Spaniards appeared in the hall to their left. Akil whirled around and shouted, ¡°Fire!¡±


    Faraji, Mandla, and Mosi fired their muskets downrange, through the narrow hall¡ªthe fatal funnel, for it was hard to miss, since there was nowhere for any man to go, and if the round did not hit the first man it would surely hit the man bunched up behind him.


    The hall filled with smoke and ear-splitting thunder as the four soldiers fell to the ground, one of them crawling away. Akil let him. He would not spare one of his warriors to go and finish him off, he needed every man covering the junction.


    Akil¡¯s musket-men were in the middle of a reload when six Spaniards appeared in the corridor behind them.


    ¡°Cover!¡± Akil shouted.


    The men knew the drill, raising their shields an instant before ducking behind around a corner, letting the Spaniards expend their one use of their muskets.


    ¡°Now!¡± cried Akil, and he and his men rushed the Spaniards, who abandoned the attempt to reload their weapons and instead aimed their bayoneted rifles at the oncoming Africans. Two of them slung their halberds off their shoulders, and the narrow hallway became a melee of blades and pressing shields.


    Akil was at the front, and batted away a bayonet to open the path for Omari¡¯s spear to find the enemy¡¯s gut. Akil received a gash across his midsection, punched his attacker with the edge of his shield, shattering the man¡¯s nose, stunning him long enough for Abi to impale him. Then he raked the edge of his shield at all their helmeted heads, knocking two or three men off balance, causing their aim to be poor. He wielded his spear one-handed, and easily parried a halberd¡¯s attack at his stomach, and rammed home the spearhead between a man¡¯s teeth, to the back of his throat, and pressed forward.


    Akil had long ago mastered the spear, but English steel was superior to anything he had ever wielded. In his hands, the familiar weapon moved with new and powerful purpose.


    The Spaniards fought bravely, and Akil and his men pressed them until they had gone back into a wider corridor. One of the Spaniards slipped and fell, and Omari skewered him. Akil raised his shield in time to block a killing blow from a halberd¡ªthe huge axe-head of the spear-like weapon was heavy, and knocked him sideways at the impact. Akil used the haft of his spear to trip his attacker¡¯s legs, causing him to stumble sideways into another Spaniard. Akil kicked him in his chest and rammed his spear into the man¡¯s inner thigh, to the thumb-sized artery his father had always taught him to aim for. The Spaniard went down in a welter of blood, and their last enemy fled, bleeding from his side.


    Not terrible, he thought. Not terrible for men who only learned to fight two months ago. Akil had been drilling them in the basics, showing them how to form a wall and how to use the openings he created for them. Still, if not for the shock and surprise of their attack, if not for Laurier¡¯s plan that sent half the fort¡¯s experienced men away, if not for the grenadoes cutting their numbers, and if not for the Hazard currently luring good soldiers away from the corridors and to their cannons, Akil knew that he and his people would be overwhelmed.


    Many things had to go right for this to be possible. Many more things must still go right.


    ¡°Back to the junction!¡± Akil told his men. One of them, Mandla, had to be carried because a halberd¡¯s axe-head had found his shin, and shattered it. Half of Mosi¡¯s nose was hanging off his face but he could still move. ¡°Come, Mandla, you can at least reload the rifles while we wait for the next group. I''m sure they''ll be along soon.¡±


    ____


    The wheelbarrows allowed the men to throw more treasure chests on top of the already high stacks of silver, and it took two men each to adequately steer them. John supervised it all, listening to the gunfire and shouting coming from several halls away. Anne and Jenkins led the first wave of treasure-bearers to the corridor leading to the south overlook, to the cranes that LaCroix had helped the Spaniards to erect to raise the Menorcan cannons into place. Now these cranes would help deliver their treasure to the beach, where hopefully soon Noala and her group would be forming the beachhead.


    John intermittently peeked his head around corners, into living quarters, dining areas, places he knew might hold some random soldier that had been shirking duty, but might now come upon them after hearing the alarm.


    He gripped his buckler in his left fist. His right fist curled around the hilt of his sword, and he tapped the gold-and-silver-chased pommel against doors, knocking before entering, trying to lure out any semi-conscious soldier who might be sleeping off the good time he¡¯d had in Porto Bello that night.


    So far, he¡¯d found no stragglers.


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    He came to the hallway where, thirty yards away, he could see Akil and his men standing at a four-way junction. One of his men appeared to be seriously injured, lying on the ground trying to reload muskets. ¡°Akil? How goes the work?¡±


    ¡°It would be better if you not distract, Captain!¡± Akil called back.


    ¡°When you hear the big explosion, I want you to pull back to the south overlook¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know the plan, Captain!¡±


    John snorted out a laugh. And then he walked away, grinning savagely as he looked for more work to do. It suddenly occurred to him that this was the most fun he had ever had in his life. And the best, he knew, was only moments away. And, by the sound of cannonfire coming from outside, it seemed like Okoa was playing his part perfectly. Now we just have to pray the fucking Frenchman took assiduous and accurate notes from Hubert Michaels, and performed his alchemy right. If not, we¡¯ll none of us be leaving here alive.


    As it happened, LaCroix had done his work well, as Captain Laurier was about to see. Perhaps too well. But it wasn¡¯t the Frenchman¡¯s work that was going to supply them the most horror that night, it was the creature that came creeping up the shore, slithering through the lowermost entrance of Bateria de la Lanza, and was moving slowly, floor by floor, up the fortress steps.


    ____


    The thing climbing up the stairs had no memory. But it could squeeze. That is what made sense to it, that is what logic it found in the pulsating need that shot through its twenty-foot length. Black and red and constantly shedding both scales and flesh, its squamous, tenebrous form pushed open doors in search of something to squeeze. Something mushy, not something cold and dead like the stones of the floor and ceiling. It had three feelers that stretched out, each feeler capable of both tasting and feeling. It had no arms or limbs, unless it wanted them, and in those times it could create them.


    Its body wrapped around stone pillars, and squeezed.


    And squeezed.


    Until the stone cracked and the pillars exploded to dust and rubble.


    It lifted a torch off the wall and coiled its great body around it and squeezed until the warmth was doused. It had no memory, but it somehow knew that it missed warmth. There had been only the cold depths of this New Sea in this strange world. It sought out the torches, the lanterns, the little candles someone had left by a desk to read by.


    And it squeezed them and exulted in their warmth until it crushed them.


    When the thing came upon the first two soldiers, it froze for a moment, sensing the heat of them. Its own serpentine body was cold, and porous flesh along its side vented chilled air. The soldiers froze in place, stunned. One of them fired at the thing. The other turned and ran. That¡¯s when the thing decided to make its own arms, mimicking the squids it had seen in the New Sea. Then it formed half a dozen arms, mimicking those he saw on each of the soldiers. These faux limbs grabbed each body¡ªeach succulent, mushy, warm body¡ªand reeled them in.


    The thing did not even know what it meant to do with them. It just wanted to hold them. And squeeze.


    And so it did. Until it felt something cracking inside them. Many somethings. Their mushy exterior belied the hard yet brittle structure beneath their flesh. But no matter. The warmth was still there. More warmth spilled out of them, and the thing gyrated in excitement, squeezing harder to make the warmth spill out of them in great gouts. It squeezed their heads until the two little mushy spheres in their skulls popped out, and then the thing plucked them like raisins and squeezed those until all the warmth came out.


    It found their internal organs and sex organs, and squeezed those. Their warmth spilled onto the floor in pools, and their warmth sometimes shot out in wonderful little bursts, and before long the thing¡¯s own body was drenched in their warmth.


    Chilled gases jetted out of its scaly pores. The thing had never known such warmth. It dragged their bodies behind it, like a child might do with a toy it had mostly finished playing with, but might find a use for later. It slithered up another set of stairs, following the signs of warmth it detected just up ahead.


    ____


    Akil¡¯s faith in the captain better prove valid, thought Noala, as she and Bogoa and the rest of the men dragged the boats up out of the water and onto shore. They quickly tipped them over, and hid behind them, using them as cover. Once they were finished forming the beachhead, each warrior took their own musket and set it to one side, ready to fire. Noala gave the pistol in her belt a reassuring pat, then raised her shield, waiting for the hail of bullets that would surely¡ª


    The night was rent by another salvo from the Hazard. She was sliding in close to the destroyed docks, now firing upon the first and second levels of the fort. Spaniards were firing desperately at the dark sloop-of-war, which remained in darkness as not one lantern had been lit. A shot rang out across the water, and there was a brief flash of light. That would be the boy, Dobbs, firing from a separate boat floating in the inlet. Noala was astonished. She and the others had trained for months just to learn how to fire and reload their weapons effectually enough that they weren¡¯t complete novices, but this young boy with one eye could fire with such precision that Spaniards simply fell dead before him. If ever a head poked out from cover, Dobbs could hit it.


    ¡°Get ready!¡± LaCroix cried above the echoes of cannonfire. Noala looked at him, and saw the Frenchman pointing up. Following his finger, she saw that upon the third level of the fort, the elevated platform, which dangled from a rope, was being loaded with chests, sacks, and wheelbarrows. The pirates could just barely be seen from here, working on the pullies to send the first load of treasure down.


    Noala looked back at the docks. If both the Hazard and Dobbs could keep the Spaniards¡¯ attention focused on firing into dark waters, she and her friends may not even need to fire a single shot tonight. They need only load the treasure into the boats and shove off. Things seemed to be going well enough. The Spaniards were all either dead or hiding behind cover for dear life.


    Then the inlet came alive with too many ear-splitting explosions to count. Noala looked up. The Spanish batteries were fighting back. The cannons from the top two levels of the fort were now fully manned and firing, and she heard their shots ripping through the Hazard.


    Noala¡¯s fear must¡¯ve shown on her face, because LaCroix smiled at her and said, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, mademoiselle, for here comes a miracle like no other! Pay attention, you may never see anything so grand ever again!¡±


    ____


    Capit¨¢n Francisco Ortiz was assigned to fill Capit¨¢n Del Campo¡¯s spot at Bateria de la Lanza until a permanent replacement could be chosen. Though, he had been told, should he prove himself every bit as reliable at Del Campo had, Ortiz could expect Major Solucio to put in a good word for him to be permanently assigned. Ortiz had been in the captain¡¯s quarters inside the fort, writing a letter to his wife about his hopes for good news when this assignment was done, when he heard the first bells across the inlet, and then the first screams.


    Rushing out of his quarters, with only his pants on, he had gathered men in each hallway he passed through and ordered them to follow him. When the first shots were fired by the sloop, and a bell went up warning of an attack on their harbour, Ortiz was outraged, but kept his calm. He assigned each of the men to their batteries.


    Ortiz rushed up the stairs to the fifth level to ensure that all gunnery teams were moving to their preassigned positions. They had rehearsed this exact scenario too many times to count, and he was proud to see his men, many of whom had been roused from their sleep, already packing the wadding into each cannon. He raced up and down the line, clapping his men on the shoulder, shouting to the gunners to find their target.


    One of them pointed down into the dark inlet, where the Elizabeth had moved in close enough to use her guns to hammer the beach and the first two levels of the fort. Ortiz could not fathom it, could not even guess as to why they would make such a clear and obvious tactical blunder.


    But we will seize on this error, he thought, scowling down at the Elizabeth.


    ¡°Level your gun! Out tompion!¡± shouted Fernandez, the gun captain on duty. ¡°Run out your gun! Now prime, prime!¡± Ortiz watched as lines of gunpowder were poured down the touch hole of each cannon. ¡°Point your gun!¡±


    Every man did as bidden, operating smoothly, with total composure despite the strange circumstances of the ambush. But Ortiz had a strange feeling. Hackles on the back of his neck told him something was wrong about all of this.


    ¡°Fire!¡± Fernandez shouted.


    First, the fifth-level battery fired down into the bay, each cannon kicking back from recoil and rolling on its wheels before the gunnery teams pushed the heavy bastards back into place. Then, below them, the fourth-level boys fired. Twenty cannonballs soared out and over, plunging down into the dark waters of the inlet. All three moons were currently in the sky, so even though the Elizabeth had no lights on deck, Ortiz had the satisfaction of seeing some of their shots rip through sails and splinter the starboard railing. He was pretty sure he saw two men go flying into the water. Ortiz smiled and started to order the next reload himself¡ª


    Until he detected something in the air. A strange, foul odour, almost like ammonia but more rancid. It was there and gone, carried on the wind.


    ¡°Reload!¡± cried Fernandez.


    Ortiz looked around, sniffing. His eyes fell on the three-man gunnery team twenty yards away, the men working one of the Menorcan guns. They had inserted more wadding and plunged it down the barrel.


    Another salvo came from the Elizabeth. She wasn¡¯t giving up, even after being hammered so.


    Strange. Why would she¡ª


    ¡°Prime, prime, prime!¡±


    Ortiz sniffed the air again. Something occurred to him. Something dreadful. He took two steps towards the Menorcan team. ¡°No, wait! Stop¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fire!¡±


    ¡°Wait! Don¡¯t touch the¡ª¡± The blast wave that hit him was moving ten times the speed of sound, so Capit¨¢n Ortiz never knew how he died.


    ____


    Every cannon in the world operated off the explosive cocktail of sulfur, charcoal, and sodium nitrate. The chemical reaction ignites at such force, it propels explosive air in all directions. Normally, that is. But with the cast-iron surroundings of a cannon, all that explosive air had nowhere else to go but straight down the hollowed-out bore¡ªthe barrel. In order to create such an explosion, there had to be flame. Muzzle-loading was the process of funneling gunpowder into the bore, then packing it with wadding, typically made of paper. That process was time-honoured and battle-tested.


    But every gunnery team worth its salt knew the importance of cleaning the cannon bore regularly, for if there were any impurities, if the ratio of carbon to iron was not maintained, the cannon ceased to be a cannon and became something else.


    From the day he left Jamaica, Captain John Laurier had sailed to the Colonies, to find Hubert Michael, an old friend and alchemist who once worked with Arthur Vhingfrith and Raymond Smith, and who Smith said had moved to the town of Stratham, in New Hampshire.


    The Ladyman had long believed that there was no use putting oneself through any time-consuming effort if one couldn¡¯t take care of two or three other time-consuming efforts simultaneously. Killing two birds with a single stone, as it were. So, while it made sense to leave the Caribbean and train his new crew in fresh waters, where the British Navy was a bit thin, he could also use the occasion to pay Hubert Michaels a visit, and introduce him to Remy LaCroix. As expected, the two tinkerers had found common ground, and, as John was able to pay Michaels for his troubles, they worked out a way to repeat the accident that happened to the Indian vessel Bombay fifteen years earlier.


    John had heard the story from Arthur Vhingfrith, the tale of how the Bombay had been set upon by pirates and tried to run, and fired its superior battery at the attackers before calamity struck. Just random bad luck. A one-in-a-million chance event, where a cannon exploded and killed half the crew in an instant, and set the rest of the ship ablaze.


    Together, Hubert and LaCroix worked out how it had to be done. ¡°The inner barrel should be coated with a cocktail such as this,¡± he¡¯d said, showing LaCroix the recipe containing volatile chemicals that could be turned into a paste that would be invisible once dried. ¡°This cocktail alone will not do the trick. You will need additional ingredients to cause the combustion, to trap the necessary carbon in the bore, even after it¡¯s been cleaned. Next, metal shavings, many of them, ought to be poured down the barrel in a thin coating. You should do this the night before you are sure they will fire the Menorcas,¡± he¡¯d told LaCroix. ¡°It is the only way to artificially create the environment that destroyed the Bombay.¡±


    ¡°And then what?¡± asked Laurier, who had left the two scientists alone in the parlour to talk while he slept in a guest bed. He¡¯d awoken to LaCroix and Michaels still talking excitedly about how it was to be done, the candles they¡¯d lit the night before nearly burned to the wick.


    ¡°And then,¡± Michaels had said, rubbing his sleepy eyes, ¡°there will be an explosion. One unlike anything you¡¯ve ever seen before, and are likely to ever see again. At that yield, at those temperatures, anyone within, say, twenty or thirty feet of it will be annihilated. You likely will never even find their teeth. Anyone just outside the blast wave will probably still die, their eyeballs will liquefy and most, if not all their organs will rupture. Anyone left will have limbs severed, red-hot shrapnel embedded in them. And even those who survive that will have to deal with the fact that everything around them is on fire. Including their own flesh. Oh, and if it happens inside of a building of any kind, it will almost certainly cause the structural collapse of everything around it.¡±


    ____


    Okoa had been on the quarterdeck when the first volley hit, and was just starting to think that they were done for when the second volley came and the wooden planks beside his only remaining leg exploded and sent a large splinter into his face. He fell over, shouting to Masters to bring her about, to aim the Hazard¡¯s prow for the inlet¡¯s mouth in order to at least save themselves. A shot tore through the mizzenmast, raining down more splinters on the men. One man was climbing on the ratlines when the shot came through and was torn at the waist, both his halves falling to the deck.


    ¡°Hard to port, Mr. Masters!¡± Okoa shouted. ¡°Hard to port and never look back¡ª¡±


    Another volley smashed into them, and Reginald fell against Okoa. The cook stood and fired his pistol at the shoreline stupidly. Panicked, many followed his lead.


    ¡°Hard to port and never¡ª¡±


    But then Okoa¡¯s eardrums were assailed by an explosion, and there was a lightening of the sky. A brief fireball and a wall of smoke and rock all tore away from the cliff, at the very top of the fort. A huge slab of rock came plunged down to the beach, shattering and booming like a giant¡¯s foot stamping the shore. An enormous black plume concealed the stars and moons as the fourth and fifth level of the cliffside fortress partially collapsed. He saw a glimmer, what appeared to be a cannon or some piece of it flying out over the inlet, catching moonlights for several moments before splashing into the water.


    Almost all lanterns and torches that had been lit along the walls of Bateria de la Lanza were extinguished in the great gale of hot wind, which Okoa even felt on his face. Rocks fell onto the batteries of the third level, cascading down onto the second, and smashing onto the first. He saw a man flailing in the air, vanishing into the plume of sand and dust coming up from where the rock slab impacted on the beach.


    Everyone aboard the Hazard cheered. Okoa clambered to stand up, and stared from the starboard rail, looking up at a miracle. He could not stop smiling. ¡°Belay that order of retreat, Mr. Masters,¡± he said, watching the rope-and-plank lift descending from the north end of the third level. Even from this distance, he could tell it was loaded with treasure, and he saw Noala and the others rushing up from the beachhead to receive it.


    It was incredible, almost impossible to comprehend, but the captain¡¯s plan might actually work. And it wasn¡¯t until now, looking up at it all, that Okoa realized just how much doubt he¡¯d had in his heart.


    But he didn¡¯t know about The Cold Thing That Squeezed.


    ____


    Laurier closed his eyes as the wall of dust came down the hallway towards him. He, Anne, and Roche were lugging two bags of silver apiece over their shoulders when they felt the detonation. The explosion had been nearly deafening, and the very walls shook. He heard rumbling, felt it coming up through his feet, and for a moment he worried they¡¯d overdone it, that the fortress wasn¡¯t built for this kind of devastation. The wound might just be too great. The floors may very well collapse beneath us¡ª


    Hacking and coughing, he and the others stumbled forward through a corridor lit only by the lanterns hooked to their belts. Even with that light, they could scarcely see as far as the length of their arms, which they used to grope along the walls until they came to an opening. They emerged at the platform just as it was being reeled back up by the crane. John looked at Anne and Roche. The three of them were covered in dust and grinning.


    ¡°Have you ever felt more invincible?¡± he said.


    ¡°Not ever,¡± she laughed. And coughed.


    ¡°Will you ever doubt me again?¡±


    ¡°Not ever,¡± she coughed again.


    ¡°And I¡¯ll kill whatever man that does!¡± Roche shouted.


    They embraced in gales of laughter, while Jenkins shouted for the Africans to load up the next bundle of treasure. Laurier watched in wide-eyed awe as his plan bore fruit. There was such treasure that it overflowed, teetered on the side of the planks as they were lowered down, spilled over and rained down onto the beach. The rope groaned as it laboured to deliver the next load of treasure down to the beachhead, and then another, and then another.


    It was on the sixth load that he heard gunfire. It echoed from the corridor whence he, Anne, and Roche had come.


    ¡°Come with me,¡± he told them.


    Anne drew her pistol and followed. Roche was behind her with his axe.


    They maneuvered through one cloudy corridor after another, following the sounds of more battle. Another gunshot, and then screaming, and then people shouting in an African tongue. The noise led them to a hallway outside the guard barracks, where Akil¡¯s squad had apparently fallen back from the four-way junction they¡¯d been holding down. Akil stood with only two of his men, Omari and Mosi. Mosi, barely out of boyhood, was on the ground, bleeding from a gash in his stomach. Six Spaniards lay dead in a heap in front of them. John saw that the African prince was sweating, panting, and bleeding from multiple cuts across his chest and arms. He looked around for Mandla and the others, but could not find them. John assumed they hadn¡¯t made it.


    ¡°Well?¡± Akil panted.


    John coughed and fanned the dust from his face. ¡°You heard the explosion. It¡¯s done. We¡¯re loading up the rest of it now.¡±


    ¡°Noala?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s down on the shore, loading the treasure onto the boats. It¡¯s time to go.¡±


    Akil did not move. He looked ahead, to the four-way junction they had retreated from. ¡°I won¡¯t leave their bodies.¡±


    ¡°Who? Your warriors? They¡¯re dead, Akil. There isn¡¯t anything anyone can do for them¡ª¡±


    ¡°I will not leave them.¡±


    ¡°Akil¡ª¡±


    ¡°I say no, Captain! They fought with us. I will not let them be like Abner Crane.¡±


    There was that name again. Laurier clenched his jaw. It seemed Abner¡¯s ghost would not leave the crew of the Hazard be. Anne claimed to have seen him on the deck when last they were in Port Royal, and talk of the Hellmouth had been paramount since the Cataclysm had altered the entire world. But he knew Akil meant something else, for it had been Akil that ensured Abner was dead by throwing him into the water after Dobbs shot him. In these last few months, Laurier had learned that Akil did not like his captain¡¯s philosophy on the disposability of crewmen.


    John started to lay into Akil, remind them all what they¡¯d come here for, that the treasure was in their grasp¡ª


    Then he acquiesced. These men had indeed helped him across thousands of miles of sea, had given him their full attention and support during the planning stages, and helped raid merchantmen up and down the east coast of the American Colonies. One of them had already died during a raid on an English colony in the West Indies. They had followed him into this insane plan, spilled blood, and given their lives for it. He nodded, ¡°Very well. Anne, Roche, with me. We¡¯ll all retrieve a body apiece. Does that suffice, Akil?¡±


    Akil nodded rigidly. ¡°Is good, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Good. Then let¡¯s hurry, before the local militia is roused and every farmer with a pitchfork comes to skewer us.¡±


    As they made their way down the stone corridor, a peal of bells could be heard across the bay. All around the harbour, men were indeed arming themselves and gathering in groups on horseback, rushing towards Bateria de la Lanza. It was now a race between the pirates and the locals.


    ____


    The Cold Thing That Squeezed continued eagerly up the stairs. Such warmth as it had never felt was just up ahead! It had no ears, but it felt the explosion, felt the rush of hot air, and it yearned to climb and find the source of it, and squeeze it.


    Two Spaniards with muskets fired upon it, their minds turning to mush at the mere sight of the faceless horror. They turned to run, but the Thing seized them. And squeezed. Three more soldiers rushed into the room carrying partizans. One fainted upon seeing the Thing, the other two used their partizans to try and skewer it. Its rough outer shell was still sloughing off, leaving cold wet flesh for them to wade through. They thrust between the integument, but the Thing felt no pain. It sensed their heat. It formed limbs to mimic their partizans and impaled them, then reeled them.


    And squeezed.


    It continued slithering up, up, up to the third level.


    ____


    LaCroix was still laughing when the next load of treasure came down the crane. He looked up at the plume of dust, no longer expanding, but softly settling over the beach like a dark curtain. He couldn¡¯t believe it. The efficacy of his and Hubert Michaels¡¯s explosive cocktail had paid off more than he¡¯d ever imagined. His time spent on land in America, while the Ladyman and the rest of the crew sailed the Hazard up and down the coast, hadn¡¯t been for nothing. If only you could see me now, Bennett, he thought, looking up at the moons sailing overhead. What wondrous things you have missed. But perhaps you are still out there somewhere, looking down at all of this from some celestial palace. I hope you see how well you taught me the sciences.


    ¡°LaCroix!¡± shouted Noala. ¡°Help us!¡±


    He stirred. All around him the Africans were going about the business of flipping the boats upright and loading the treasure onto them, while a second team came ashore and pushed the boats out into the water and rowed them over to the Hazard.


    ¡°Of course, mademoiselle!¡± he exclaimed. It was all he could do to keep from dancing, but he took all that energy and darted over to one of the boats. The beachhead was no longer needed, since the damage they had caused had just about killed all the Viejos, and convinced the rest to fall back. Some of the boats had taken shots from the odd soldier on the beach, which meant some of them would leak. But Laurier had planned for that eventuality, as well, for the Hazard had sailed in close enough that the boats needn¡¯t row out far.


    And now the Hazard was firing her cannons at the beach, just enough to keep more soldiers from emerging from the fort¡¯s first level.


    LaCroix flipped another boat upright, and began running back and forth between the boats and the treasure-filled lift. He couldn¡¯t believe it. He truly couldn¡¯t. Bags so heavy they sometimes required two men to carry. So much silver coins and gold ingots that it felt like stepping into a dream. Surely few pirates had ever come upon such booty! And it wasn¡¯t just coins and ingots, there were also vases, wines aged almost a hundred years, dozens of rings and necklaces, and a jewel-encrusted sceptre like LaCroix had once seen King Louis XIII holding in a painting (a forgery that Bennett had bought off a pirate named Gibbons and resold to a foolish noble in Kingston). He had stared at that painting for hours, wondering what it would be like to be a king.


    LaCroix held the sceptre, and for a protracted moment he ran his fingers along the jewels. He was a king. They all were, just as the captain had said. For what were kings if not conquerors? And had the crew of the Hazard not just conquered a major Spanish fort? And what were kings without their elegant (and luxurious) signs of office? And did not Remy LaCroix now hold one such sign of office in his hands?


    He does. I do.


    Here was the future promised by the Republic of Pirates. Here was what Captains Edward Miller, Benjamin Hornigold, Francis Leslie, and Josiah Burgess had all promised when they laid out their Codes of Pyracy. LaCroix had never truly believed in the Code, he had merely gone along with the life Bennett taught him, like a piece of driftwood obeying the currents, siding with whichever ally helped him to survive from moment to moment.


    But now he felt the Code. He felt love for his captain, for his crew, for every damned, stinking, miserable one of them.


    ¡°You going to marry that bloody thing, LaCroix?¡± Dobbs had come assure, having spent all his muskets, and now used his boat to load more of the treasure. The lad had gotten a tongue on him these last few months. He had grown up fast. He had had to. The cosmos was changing all around them.


    LaCroix ran over to Dobbs and kissed him on the head. ¡°This is yours! Hold it! Hold it! You¡¯re king of Panam¨¢ now, boy! King of the Entire World! We all are! Kings and queens!¡± he shouted, pointing to Noala as she ran past, lugging small bags of silver. ¡°Kings and queens!¡±


    ¡°Kings and queens! Kings and queens!¡± the men shouted. The Africans, the English, even the Scotsman who came ashore laughing. All up and down the shore, the pirates took up the call, even as they started looting the other fishing boats moored at the half-destroyed pier. Several of them volunteered themselves to start looting the dead¡ªthe soldiers had quality clothing, uniforms, armour that might come in handy another day, to say nothing of their weapons and belts of gunpowder.


    LaCroix danced as the next load of treasure came down. Dobbs laughed, and they clapped one another on the backs as they got to work. There was so much celebration, and so much smoke and dust still contaminating the air, that none of them saw the line of torches half a mile away, coming down an outcropping of the beach, moving steadily towards them.


    ____


    Okoa oversaw the offloading of the boats. He had men ready with nets to toss down, and they brought them up from the whip over the yardarm. Any Africans that had not been up to Akil¡¯s standards as warriors were left here aboard Hazard, and now used their strength to reel in barrel after barrel, sack after sack, chest after chest. Okoa winced when he saw them drop two barrels into the water, lost forever. He berated them to calm their nerves, to move with more surety. The mixture of fear and excitement was almost overwhelming for them, and Okoa empathized because he recalled his first raid with the Ladyman, and it was nothing compared to this.


    Men sang and danced as they reeled it all in.


    Bags spilled across the deck. Doubloons rolling in every direction. A bejeweled tiara went rolling on the planks and was caught by Isaacson just before it went over the scuppers. ¡°Careful now, you!¡± Okoa said, whacking the shoulder on of one of the Africans with his crutch. ¡°We come all this way for treasure, do not waste a single doubloon more! Your friends died for this treasure, make sure they didn¡¯t die so you could stay a pauper! Masters, Isaacson, show them how to do it!¡±


    The work continued apace for half an hour, and every so often Okoa would have to whack a crewman across the head for holding treasure in his hand and gazing in disbelief at what he had. Overall, the men performed more admirably than he had expected.


    While the Ladyman had been absent the ship these long weeks, Okoa¡¯s job had become manifold. Not only did he have to maintain a constant vigil for any lantern signaling from the fort¡¯s windows and Major Solucio¡¯s villa, he¡¯d also had to maintain strict dog-watches, always looking out for a surprise ambush from the Viejos, while keeping his crew about their daily tasks of maintenance.


    Tonight, he¡¯d had to direct the ship while under fire. It hadn¡¯t lasted long, but now his hands were shaking. Despite having been the Hazard¡¯s gun captain for over a year now, the fear had nearly taken him. It was different when he was in charge of the whole ship. Different by many orders of magnitude. He looked around at the two holes in the deck, and thanked whatever gods there were that those had not plunged straight down through to her keel.


    Presently, Okoa hopped up and down the quarterdeck, raising his spyglass to survey the beach, the fort, the boats in the water. He raked slowly over the bay, where bells were still ringing. So far he had not seen any¡ª


    Oh no. Okoa saw the torches along the beach. But they weren¡¯t moving towards the docks. Normally that would be a good thing, but when he saw them climbing up a set of hills that preceded the cliff, he knew what that meant. Jenkins had told Okoa that there was a small entrance on the side of the cliff, a natural cave that led to a locked door, beyond which was a corridor leading into the second floor of the fortress.


    Okoa hopped down to the main deck, using the starboard rail for support, and grabbed hold of Babatunde, one of Raymond Smith¡¯s former slaves. Babatunde had just come up from one of the boats hauling treasure. Okoa shook him by his collar, ¡°Get back to the beach. Tell the captain reinforcements are coming from inland. Hurry!¡±


    Babatunde, a smart lad who had helped Raymond Smith with some of his account-books, nodded without a word and climbed back down into a boat and he and six others began rowing hard for shore.


    Okoa moved his spyglass across the beach, hoping the message reached the Ladyman in time. But then he saw something that made his blood run cold. An animal¡ªor, no, not an animal, but some tenebrous, writhing monstrosity¡ªmoving in the darkness, almost swimming through it like an eel, moving through the gaping hole left by the exploding Menorcans on the side of the cliff. Okoa winced, uncertain of what he was seeing. But it looked like a gigantic black serpent, bleeding buckets, dragging a dozen or so human bodies in its wake.


    ¡°Sink me!¡± He looked up at the moons racing overhead, and thought about the story the captain had told of the Behemoth. ¡°God in heaven¡­¡±


    ____


    ¡°Come on, this way!¡± Laurier shouted.


    They all followed him. Laurier knew the layout better than they did, but the smoke and dust had settled in the air, making every corridor they traveled through a grim haze. The dead body Laurier was carrying over his shoulder once belonged to Mandla, a man that had been well liked by the rest of the crew, especially the Africans. Laurier recalled Mandla¡¯s singing voice, and his yearning to learn the English language so that he could join in with the others when they sang chanties during a Long Night. And whenever daylight would return, Mandla could be trusted to go on deck every late evening, gazing at a westering sun like it held some inscrutable puzzle he meant to solve himself. John had even had a conversation with him once about death; Mandla believed there was no heaven, only spirits, and that spirits carried on.


    It felt strange carrying Mandla. It was just now occurring to John that he had not ever carried the body of a dead friend before. Not ever. Once dead, a body was just a body to him. Say what you will about John Laurier¡¯s life to this point, and his dogged desire to rob governments of their treasure, but he had never been above allowing himself to see another¡¯s point of view. To accept certain of his faults. To change. And carrying Mandla now made him realize this was something he should have always done.


    Such epiphanies sometimes occur to us when we least expect it. Benjamin had once told John that, once while in the latrine of an inn, he suddenly realized he hated his father as much as he loved him. It just came to me, he¡¯d said. Like a bolt out of the blue. John had then joked that he hoped Ben didn¡¯t have any such thoughts about him while he was taking a shit.


    We shouldn¡¯t just leave men when they die, or dump them over the rail and into the sea. Abner was right about that much. Perhaps even prayer shouldn¡¯t be out of the¡ª


    ¡°Are you sure this is the way, Captain?¡± said Akil, coughing.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure. Just this way. There! You see?¡± John coughed and fanned the air. ¡°That¡¯s the guard barracks.¡± They¡¯d had to deviate from the easiest path several minutes before, when they all heard the clatter of what sounded like booted footsteps, coming from the direction of the four-way junction. John took them down a set of stairs, crossing a common room, then a kitchen, then up another set of stairs, back to the third level.


    He privately admitted to himself that he had gotten a little turned around, and done some small guesswork to get his bearings, but a good leader did not admit such ineptitude, not until they were safe, anyway.


    But they had another problem; and Akil, Anne, Mosi, and Omari all knew it. Heavy footsteps. More of them. And raised voices echoing down through various hallways. There was another cadre of guards here, more Viejos that had survived and recomposed themselves after smashing defeat. One had to lend it to them, they were loyal to king and country till the very end.


    John also thought he heard screaming, which he didn¡¯t understand. An occasional shot was fired somewhere below him, but none of his people ought to be on either the second or first floor.


    John pushed the mystery aside and guided them into an officer¡¯s quarters, where they waited, listening for footsteps to pass. Then they crept back out. They were no longer running. They had to be careful now, for their numbers had dwindled¡ªbesides Anne and Roche, only Akil and two of his African fighters remained, and they were hindered by carrying their dead friends.


    John guided them up a set of steps, into a smoke-filled fourth floor. They coughed and panted as they crossed a dining room, then descended another set of stairs. Someone spotted them, called after them in Spanish, probably thinking they were Viejo survivors. John ordered his people to run, and they did.


    Someone blew a whistle.


    More clattering footsteps. A bell rang somewhere ahead of them. John turned them into a corridor he truly didn¡¯t recognize, and chose a room on the right, which luckily led into a semi-familiar hallway. A Spaniard happened around a corner ahead, and Anne fired a shot into his face before the soldier understood who he¡¯d happened upon. The shot was loud in the confines, near deafening, but they still heard more footsteps coming their way.


    ¡°This way!¡± he ordered.


    They followed him down two more corridors before it became evident they were going to have to fight their way out of this.


    Ahead of them, three white-uniformed soldiers came running down the corridor. John dropped Mandla¡¯s body and drew two pistols from his brace at once, fired, killed one man, but the second one was lucky and the round panged off his armour. Akil rushed at him and flung the dead body of Faraji at one of the Spaniards before driving his spear through the guts of the other. Roche dropped Kayin¡¯s body, and ran screaming into the last soldier, smashing his axe against the soldier¡¯s collarbone and sending him to his knees. The Brazilian yanked the helmet off his enemy before braining him.


    A gunshot from behind! The round hit the wall beside John¡¯s head!


    Anne dropped her corpse and fired her last loaded pistol wildly into the corridor behind them.


    ¡°Take cover!¡± John shouted, and everyone dove into separate doorways as a hail of lead came tearing down the hallway. John heard Omari scream as a round ripped through his calf muscle, but otherwise the warrior seemed all right. John peeked around the corner, through the congealing smoke, which thankfully would obscure the vision of whatever enemies were on the other side of it. He heard the familiar scraping sounds of ramrods being shoved down barrels. ¡°Akil! Roche! With me! Now, while they¡¯re reloading!¡±


    The three of them charged headlong into the fray, just as the six or seven Spaniards were pulling their ramrods from their barrels. John fired his last two pre-loaded pistols, downing two of them, then flung the pistols into the faces of the others before drawing his cutlass. Akil and Roche leapt ahead of him, the African taking left flank and the Brazilian going right. Akil¡¯s shield batted away the bayonets like toys, and his spear felled a soldier that tried to run. Roche¡¯s axe hacked at¡­everything. It was impossible to say which parts were coming off his enemies, chunks of flesh and the smell of copper filled the air.


    John first parried a partizan, then a halberd, moving in close so that the length of the weapons were moot. But the men had been well trained, and with double-fisted grips they shoved their shafts against his chest, driving him backward, trying to put him at range for a thrust. One of them stepped on the hem of his skirt, tripping him, and John shin-pressed his foe to off-balance him and shoved him aside. Roche brained one of them, and Akil smashed his shield so hard against the skull of the other that his shield broke, and he flung the splinters at the remaining two, who John advanced on, parrying their partizans and ripping open the throat of one.


    John was about to advance on the last one when he heard a clattering of feet. Turning, he saw that they¡¯d been stumbled upon by an entire squad of Viejos, coming through a doorway from a mess hall not ten yards to his left.


    And, leading them, wearing a metal helm, a gleaming partizan in his right hand, was Capit¨¢n Santiago Andres Del Campo.


    ____


    Del Campo moved in slow formation with his men, the tips of their partizans pointed at the five villains, and the one dressed as a lady in front of them. For a moment his mind reeled, for look at this scene: the very dress he¡¯d first seen Miss Julia wearing when she disembarked from the Elizabeth, the very same dress indeed! And it was even being worn by someone who almost fit her form. But the sleeves were rolled up, the white satin gloves dirtied, one of them gripping a cutlass, and the other unhooking the man¡¯s buckler.


    But it was the eyes that first told him. Blue and deep and curious, but just now darkened beneath a brow furrowed in determination. The hint of a smile. The lower half of the face, which Del Campo had rarely seen, was more man-ish now. Indeed, the masculine jaw was obvious beyond the makeup and the rouge and the faintly lipstick¡¯d lips.


    ¡°Qu¨¦ es esto?¡± he said. ¡°What manner of¡­?¡± Presently, Del Campo became aware of the deception, and was all too keenly aware of the men flanking him. His men. The men that had surely seen him walking and talking with Miss Julia.


    They must think me stupid. And they¡¯re right. My God, I was blind!


    ¡°Who¡ªare you?¡± he said, stepping forward.


    The false woman stood before him in readied stance.


    Del Campo swallowed.


    A rage boiled in him. There was no more sickening ailment than betrayal, one that bore into the pit of one¡¯s belly and became like acid eating away the stomach lining. Del Campo¡¯s mind was flooded with disgust at both himself and the perverted monstrosity he saw in front of him. The man had no words for it. Clenching his jaw, his rage continued to seethe, and he raised his partizan and stepped closer.


    From his perspective, John Laurier saw only an unblinking enemy, but he sensed the humiliating indignity. He could only imagine the mockery Capit¨¢n Del Campo would receive behind his back all his days for this, that he¡¯d been so fooled, bedeviled by a she-man, and he knew that right then Del Campo was thinking about it himself, that his career was ruined and no one would ever take him seriously again. Wherever he went, he would be mocked for it.


    There was a moment when nothing else happened. Both parties just stared at one another, various blades pointing in various directions. John coughed because of the smoke in the air. Del Campo and his people coughed, too. Were they not so focused on one another they might¡¯ve noticed the air filled with fresh, acrid smoke, which meant something somewhere had caught flame.


    While Del Campo came to grips, Laurier was dealing with his own astonishment. Del Campo and half of his Guarda del Rey ought to have been miles away by now. Yet here they were, stepping into the hallway like God¡¯s final joke to the Ladyman, rejecting his mastery over his own destiny even as his fist tightened around it.


    Then came many detonations that shook the halls. John had been wondering if that was going to happen. LaCroix had theorized the many kegs of gunpowder, kept in a locker close to the batteries, would catch fire and explode. It was a longer delay than expected, but now, amid rushing smoke in a hallway lit only by the lanterns around John¡¯s and Anne¡¯s belts, Del Campo shouted an inarticulate order, and the two parties rushed into a savage melee.


    ____


    Unlucky for John Laurier, Capit¨¢n Del Campo had not yet been quite beyond the city limits when he heard the bells ringing all over Porto Bello. Delayed by a drunken wagonmaster who could not seem to fix the axle on the carriage that would be carrying the captain¡¯s clothes across Panam¨¢ to his new station, Del Campo¡¯s party had milled about feeding their horses, waiting for the repairs to be finished. Then they heard the many detonations of cannonfire. Then one, humongous, night-ending explosion. He¡¯d known something was terribly wrong, there had been no scheduled test of the fort¡¯s cannons, and so there was no reason they ought to be fired. He called for his men to saddle up and ride hard for Bateria de la Lanza, where they found a procession of local farmers and shop-owners answering the call of the bells with their shovels and pickaxes and kitchen knives. Del Camp and his people had raced past them, riding hard for the fort.


    And now as the throng of fighters pushed and shoved and stabbed out into the smoky darkness, Laurier felt himself fighting against a tidal wave. The Africans rushed forward and John watched Akil in full battle glory. The Spaniards were dismayed by the African war chieftain¡¯s speed and ferocity, backing off and trying to form a wall against him. Akil did not fight like any ordinary warrior and advanced like a tempest, invincible and unstoppable.


    The hallway became all fury and blood, and those that got past Akil by accident rushed at John and the others.


    Knocked backward, his blade parried by one Viejo, he scrambled while another enemy (either purposely or accidentally) shoulder-charged him and pushed him away from the safety of the Africans and their shield wall, and forced him through a doorway.


    Laurier didn¡¯t even know what sort of room he was in. It was dark, not a single candle or torch was lit, and the lantern at his hip was insufficient to penetrate the caul of smoke. His arse bumped up against a table and he heard its legs scrape against stone. Heard someone else trip and fall at his feet. Couldn¡¯t tell if it was friend or foe.


    Through the dim light, he saw a blade coming at him. He side-stepped and felt his shoulder punctured. The form of Capit¨¢n Del Campo entered the room, scything his partizan back and forth until it connected with John¡¯s right arm. That¡¯s all Del Campo had been looking for, a reference for where his foe was. Now he thrust and John shuffle-stepped backward and heard the partizan¡¯s bladed tip clang off the wall.


    Del Campo followed him. The lantern, though dim, still occasionally highlighted Laurier¡¯s position. Del Campo advanced, thrusting once, twice, thrice, and John shuffle-stepped until his back was to a door. His foot found a chair leg and he grabbed the spine of the chair and flung it at his enemy, buying time to maneuver into a small doorway he sensed on his right.


    Not knowing where it led, he ducked inside, narrowly avoiding the partizan¡¯s blade.


    John found himself inside a small library, one connected to an officer¡¯s mess hall. It was partially lit by a slim window, as well as two candlesticks on a desk, illuminating a book that, presumably, someone had been reading before all hell broke loose.


    This was good. This gave him the edge he needed. There was plenty of space, the sofas and chairs were at the corners of the room, with only a coffee table at the center, which he kicked aside so as not to give Del Campo more ways to keep him at range.


    When Del Campo entered, he did so swinging and coughing, and Laurier seized his moment. Launching himself at Del Campo, he swiped to knock the speartip to one side and slashed at the man¡¯s neck. But Del Campo moved, fast as an adder, and only took a cut upon his brow. He push-stepped backward, recovered, held his spear in a double-fisted grip and came at Laurier in a flurry of attacks, alternating between slashes (to deflect) and thrusts (to kill or maim).


    John punched the attacks away with his buckler, confident in his footing and posture. He¡¯d seen how Akil trained his men with spears, had joined in friendly sparring sessions once or twice, and he knew the efficacy of such a long weapon. Del Campo could keep Laurier at a distance, while keeping himself out of range of Laurier¡¯s own weapon, and all the while corralling him into corners, cutting him off whenever he tried to maneuver. Del Campo used his forehand for guiding the shaft, and his rear hand for thrusting. The rear hand thrusted and withdrew, thrusted and withdrew, thrusted and withdrew, repeatedly.


    Laurier was slower, the weight of his cutlass causing each parry to travel an inch farther than he intended, leaving wider and wider gaps for Del Campo to slip through. And every time Laurier struck, his blade bounced off metal armour.


    Laurier was an experienced killer and fighter, but Del Campo was a highly-trained soldier with superior armament. It was to be a war of attrition. Who could hold out the longest? Who had the greater stamina? And who would exploit the weakness when it revealed itself?


    ¡°You fucking bastard!¡± Del Campo raged, and came at him with another flurry of thrusts. Laurier triangle-stepped out of the way of the first, parried the next three with his buckler, then performed a gissard, gliding his blade down the partizan¡¯s shaft until he sliced the captain¡¯s wrist. ¡°Gah!¡± Del Campo screamed, and looked at his hand, which was clean at first, but soon the opening started gushing blood. ¡°Gahhhhhh!¡± The next thrust nearly took Laurier in the neck. The next one went low, slicing the same ankle Major Solucio had done, and then Del Campo waved the blade between Laurier¡¯s skirt, catching one of his knees and causing him to trip backwards.


    Laurier fell over.


    The next thrust was coming for his gut.


    He punched it away with his buckler, kicked one of Del Campo¡¯s knees to push him back, then rolled backwards and sprang up to his feet, nearly tripping over his hem before he had to again deflect Del Campo¡¯s thrust.


    The light of his lantern caught the coffee table beside him. Laurier just barely glimpsed it. Saw the opportunity. Parrying two more thrusts, he turned and leapt over the table, spun around, and kicked the table at Del Campo. The knee-high table smashed into the captain¡¯s shins, he stumbled, and his thrust nicked Laurier¡¯s left cheek. The Ladyman saw his moment. With his buckler, he punched the speartip down, then stepped on the shaft, pinning it to the ground, and held it in place as he brought his blade down on Del Campo¡¯s undamaged wrist. It nearly came off.


    Del Campo roared, and withdrew his hand, dangling by flesh and bits of muscle and sinew. He kicked the table out of the way, freed his spear from Laurier¡¯s foot, and wielded his partizan one-handed, putting the end of its shaft in his armpit. Screaming, he ran forward.


    John punched it away, head-butted the man as he came in, shoulder-checked him, punched his mouth with the buckler, and then thrust with all his strength. The cutlass¡¯s blade glanced off the captain¡¯s armour, and Del Campo kicked John in the groin and they both stumbled backwards.


    The room was now filled with smoke. They could barely make one another out. Coughing, panting, nearly out of strength, they circled one another like two bears who, despite their many injuries, hadn¡¯t had nearly enough.


    John glanced to his left, at a single narrow window. While keeping his eyes on Del Campo, he swung his cutlass twice at the window, shattering the glass, desperate to let some fresh air in. Del Campo coughed like he had the flu, but he wasn¡¯t leaving. He would either die or regain his honour, no other option existed in his mind, not even his half-severed hand would deplete his will.


    Out in the hall, there was still noise of fighting.


    Come on, Akil! Anne! Roche, where the fuck are you¡ª


    John broke into a coughing fit. His lungs were just about at their capacity for dust and smoke¡ª


    That was what Del Campo had been waiting for. He charged, and proved surprisingly effective with each flick of his partizan.


    Desperate, John threw his all into the next maneuver. Keeping his feet planted, he angled his upper body forward and to the left, batting the speartip off center with his cutlass, then wrapped his arm around the shaft. With the partizan trapped in John¡¯s armpit, Del Campo could not withdraw it. And with his buckler, John hammered his enemy¡¯s face. Again and again. Until blood ran rivers down Del Campo¡¯s face and he dropped to his knees and the partizan melted from his grip.


    Del Campo fell over, his face a ruin in the red moonlight coming from the window.


    The Viejo captain tried to roll over. Tried crawling away. His maimed hand reached out stupidly for something to throw at Laurier. Wheezing from effort, his lungs burning, the Ladyman stepped on Del Campo¡¯s neck, pinning him. He raised his cutlass to deliver the coup de grace.


    Just then, John sensed something. Something in the room with him.


    Then something slithered out from the darkness. It had come up through the window, reaching in, whipping past his face. It smelled of ammonia and sulfur and an overflowing latrine. It stung when it gripped his right forearm. Cold and wet.


    And it squeezed.


    It squeezed until his forearm snapped in half and then came off. John screamed as he watched the serpent-like shadow pull his limb out through the window, out into the Long Night. He fell to his knees, clutching his bloody stump. He was dimly aware of Del Campo still crawling along the floor, but he stood mesmerized by his mutilated arm, blood pumping from it. Then he dropped to his knees. John had the presence of mind to draw up his skirt and use it to swaddle his stump, to try and stop the bleeding.


    Someone grabbed his shoulder. Yanked him to his feet. Someone slapped him. It was Anne Bonny. Roche and the Africans were with her. They yelled something at him but he barely heard them. John could somehow still feel the cold wet tentacle around his missing limb, like it was still there, like it still had hold of him.


    Anne looked at the stump at first in horror, then shrugged and said, ¡°We have to go, Captain! More are coming! They¡¯re all coming! The halls are filled with farmers with bloody fuckin¡¯ pitchforks! Hazard is waiting on us!¡± Somehow that part got through to him.


    ¡°Grab my cutlass,¡± he said calmly. He¡¯d just spotted it in the dim light. He must¡¯ve dropped it when the creature stole his arm.


    Roche picked up the sword. ¡°Got it! Let¡¯s go, Captain! Lean on me if you need¡ª¡±


    He heard nothing else. The next few minutes were all a grey blur. There was a loud explosion somewhere. Someone came out of a hallway and attacked them. Mosi and Omari slew them. Omari was limping, having been shot in the leg. ¡°Which way, Captain?¡± they kept yelling at him. John pointed with his one remaining hand, only vaguely familiar with these passages. It seemed to take a lifetime, but finally they found a hallway free of smoke and dust, one Anne recognized that could take them to the crane. There, Jenkins stood alone, waiting for them. He said something about how he thought they were all done for, but wouldn¡¯t leave without knowing the Ladyman¡¯s fate.


    When Jenkins saw Laurier¡¯s stump, his mouth went agape. They all got onto the lift and Jenkins and Mosi worked the cranks and the pulleys to lower them to the beach, then both of them jumped onto the rope and slid all the way down.


    Laurier felt himself going faint. LaCroix and Dobbs were smiling when they saw him, but their smiles faded when they saw the grievous injury. They put him on the final treasure boat and Noala was in command, rowing as she shouted to the rest to row for their lives. Laurier passed out, and woke up when Anne slapped him again, and shouted, ¡°You have to at least help me help you!¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    She was trying to get him to climb the rope ladder onto Hazard¡¯s deck.


    John hooked his left hand¡ªMy only hand now, he thought morosely¡ªaround the rope and made an effort. Akil pulled him from above while Roche and Bogoa shoved him from below.


    He saw Okoa¡¯s face. And he was crestfallen when his old friend recoiled at the sight of him.


    Jenkins was a bit more encouraging, putting on an impressed smile. ¡°I¡¯ll say, Cap¡¯n, you have acquitted yourself. I never dreamt a scheme like this could work so well. Well done, skipper. Well fucking done, indeed.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Jenkins,¡± he murmured, still trembling.


    They took him to the galley, where he summarily passed out again, but not before he croaked, ¡°Mr. Okoa, draw and house the guns. Then set a course. Set a course for Nassau. Then bring me some fucking water. And rum. And Captain bloody-fucking Belmont.¡±


    ____


    The Hazard was brought about and caught a jolly wind that took her swiftly through the open mouth of the bay. Some of the people on shore tried to hop aboard ships to chase her, but all the ships, as well as the docks, had been set afire by the pirates. The bells rang all night, as if to summon someone that could somehow do something, anything, about the raid that had crippled Bateria de la Lanza and cut off the heads of its leadership.


    But the devastation was too complete, and there was no one left to follow the Elizabeth, none even left alive to tell of who or what had done it. What witnesses there were, could only attest to Africans and perhaps some English fighting in tight, black, smoke-filled corridors.


    Already, Okoa was ordering repairs to be made, for the escutcheon to be repainted with Hazard¡¯s true name. There might be whispers in due course of a man-ish woman who came and went from Porto Bello, who was the guest of Major Solucio and Capit¨¢n Del Campo. Some would guess rightly at who it had been. But it would be days before word of this could spread far enough for any Spanish nao to be notified and sent to give chase. In that time, the Hazard could be anywhere.


    Other stories would be told about a giant serpent that moved lightning fast and snatched men up so quickly they came out of their boots, and squeezed them to death. The obliterated corridors of Bateria de la Lanza would forever be described as haunted or cursed.


    Overhead, the three moons did laps across the sky. The two yellow were crescent, and the red one was full. The Cold Thing That Squeezed slithered out from the fort, having finished squeezing all the warm things it could find. Now it crept back into the water, somehow sensing the Long Night was almost over. And it couldn¡¯t be out when the warm thing in the sky returned¡ªthe sun. Such warmth was too much, even for it.


    It went back into the cold water, reluctantly, and went in search of its brothers.


    ____


    In the four months he had been aboard the Hazard, Captain Rufus Belmont had been forced to suffer many indignities. The first was being stripped of his militiaman uniform and made to serve aboard the pirate vessel in nothing but his long johns. He was never a sailor, but Captain Laurier had seen to it that he learned how to swab decks, empty the bilge, and help Reginald with the cooking. It turned out Anne Bonny¡¯s notion to bring him aboard paid off, though, when Belmont proved himself to be threefold as useful.


    As a soldier of the King¡¯s Militia, his experience had helped the Hazard¡¯s crew understand the tactics and strategies of the British soldiers in the Colonies. Belmont had also, at the command of Captain Laurier, and by augmenting Akil¡¯s own skills, helped to train much of the crew to fight. Even his uniform had been useful because, when seen from shore, it had appeared to the Viejos as though the Elizabeth had a detachment of His Majesty¡¯s Royal Marines, whose uniforms resembled those of King¡¯s Militia.


    Belmont had only agreed to help in so many matters aboard Hazard to save his life, and because the Ladyman promised to return him to Port Royal after one year of service. The Ladyman had been surprised to see Captain Belmont adjust to life aboard a sea vessel, surpassing his fears of the crew, overcoming rampant seasickness, and even learning a bit about handing and reefing.


    But of all Belmont¡¯s attributes, the one that mattered most to Laurier just now was the militiaman¡¯s two years spent as an apothecary¡¯s apprentice and a dog-leech before he joined the King¡¯s Militia, and then his three months of field medicine training.


    But while Hazard had been stocked with medicines, purgatives, elixirs, and a sawbones¡¯s tools in planning for this day, they still were not ideal for complex surgery.


    Once he had the bleeding stopped, Belmont poulticed Laurier¡¯s stump with a mixture of corn meal and honey, then wrapped it all in linen bandages. Laurier was only aware of some of what Belmont and the others were doing to him. All the room was a fog. When he came to and saw his arm terminating at a wrapped stump, Laurier said, ¡°How bad?¡±


    ¡°Six other men were injured by the cannonfire,¡± Belmont said stoically. He lifted some of the bandages, just an inch, to check his work. ¡°One man died. An African. Forget his name. I forget all their names. But Mr. Okoa says the damage is mostly¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not the damage to the ship, you bloody¡­how bad is¡­is the wound?¡±


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s no saving the hand.¡±


    Laurier snorted. ¡°Bedside manner. You¡¯ve finally learned some.¡±


    ¡°My life has taken many serious turns of late, Captain Laurier,¡± Belmont said. ¡°Suppose a man would be a fool not to start having a sense of humour about it all.¡±


    ¡°I thought you had it amputated.¡±


    ¡°What, your arm? Did you forget, someone else did that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hear this man! He can hardly keep a conversation going,¡± John laughed. ¡°Your sense of humour, you idiot! I meant you¡¯d had it amputated!¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see. Well, it seems you¡¯ve proven your point. Did you see the man that did this to you?¡±


    ¡°It was no man.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Has no one told you what did this?¡±


    Okoa came hopping over and leaned his crutch against the wall. ¡°We hear some monster did this to you, Captain.¡±


    ¡°It was one of them,¡± said John angrily. He looked over at his stump, and had to fight back tears. Some piece of him was gone, and he had never really thought what that would feel like. He had seen others maimed, it was not uncommon at sea, but he had never really imagined it would transpire that he had any piece removed from himself until the day the Royal Navy or some privateer dragged him up the gibbets in Port Royal and hanged him.


    Suddenly, John was assaulted by memories of the Behemoth, and he swore that the memories alone caused something to stir inside of him. An eel swam in his belly, gnawing at his guts. He sucked in air through gritted teeth as a spasm of pain suddenly radiated from his stump and traveled across his body.


    ¡°Christ! What did it do to me?! What did the bloody fucking thing do to me?!¡±


    ¡°Easy, son,¡± said Belmont. ¡°I¡¯ve seen soldiers make full recoveries and still serve in His Majesty¡¯s Navy in some capacity. And you¡¯ve got men on this boat missing parts of themselves. Young Mr. Dobbs, for example, has only the one eye¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need reminders of who is what on my crew, Belmont, thank you! You¡­you¡­my head is fucking swimming¡­¡±


    ¡°You need to calm down. You¡¯ve lost a tremendous amount of blood and it will take weeks to get it all back, if you even survive. Corruption may soon set in. We¡¯ll know in a few days.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­I have to¡­¡± He blinked. At least, he thought he did, but when he opened his eyes he was no longer lying on a table in the galley, but in his bed in his cabin. He had no idea how much time had passed. Belmont was still there, though blurry, speaking in soft tones with Okoa and Anne. ¡°There is a worrying imbalance of his body¡¯s sanguine humours,¡± Belmont was saying. ¡°I¡¯m afraid without proper leeching there will be some corruption of the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Anne?¡± Laurier croaked with leaden tongue.


    Anne walked over and said something to him. He didn¡¯t catch all of it, but she ended by giving him an approving nod and left.


    Okoa shut the door and barred it. The only other person in the room was Belmont, and Okoa gave him a grim look. ¡°Our ship¡­she took more damage than we thought, sir. We¡¯re still undergoing repairs.¡±


    ¡°Hardly the worst thing that¡¯s happened this week,¡± John chuckled.


    Okoa looked at Belmont. Back at Laurier. ¡°Captain, something else has happened.¡±


    ¡°What is it? Tell me.¡± He tried to sit up, but was too weak. The bandages around his stump were making him itch, and he saw reddened flesh all around them. ¡°How long was I out?¡± He looked out the windows and saw that it was night. ¡°It is still a Long Night? Where are we?¡±


    ¡°No, Captain,¡± said Okoa. ¡°No Long Night. The heavens are all in order. You have been in and out with fever for two days. But¡­we haven¡¯t yet determined the meaning of your corruption.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? What meaning?¡± John scratched at his stump again.


    ¡°You don¡¯t remember? When last time you awoke, you¡ªeh¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t remember,¡± said Belmont. ¡°I told you he wouldn¡¯t remember.¡±


    ¡°Remember what? Speak sense, you goddamn creatures!¡± he growled at them. And suddenly he realized his mouth was dry and yet his face was wet. Wet from his own drool. He wiped the froth from around his lips and kicked the sheets away from his feet. ¡°God¡¯s wrath, but it¡¯s hot! Did someone open a witch¡¯s cunt in¡ªeh?¡± He scratched again at his bandages, and looked at Okoa and Belmont, both of whom looked like they didn¡¯t know what to say to him. ¡°Speak!¡±


    ¡°Captain¡­¡±


    ¡°Okoa, by God, if you cannot just come out with it¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your hand.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s gone. I haven¡¯t forgotten that much¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been in and out, Captain Laurier,¡± said Belmont stiffly. ¡°We¡¯ve had a version of this same discussion several times now. My hope is that this is the last. Mind you, I have no special love for you, but God have mercy on your soul for whatever has you now.¡±


    ¡°Why? What has me?¡± He scratched his stump again. ¡°These damned bandages!¡±


    He started to tear them off, but just then Belmont seized John¡¯s hand, and pulled it away from the stump. ¡°Before you look, I need you to be prepared.¡±


    ¡°Why should I be prepared, Captain Belmont?¡± As little regard as he held for the militia, John had at least respected Belmont enough to continue to address him by his rank. That was partly the reason, he assumed, that Belmont had returned a portion of the respect, and why, just now, he wore a shadow of sympathy on his face. It was a look that worried John more than almost anything he¡¯d encountered in all his years at sea, to see a King¡¯s Militiaman worried for him.


    John swallowed a lump in his throat. ¡°What is it?¡± he whispered.


    Belmont sighed, and slowly began unraveling the bandages. As he did, John felt revulsion at what he saw. With each layer removed, he wanted to run, to scream, to call someone in here with a bone saw and get to cutting. But John only stared at it, and held back his vomit.


    ¡°Leave me,¡± he croaked.


    ¡°Captain?¡± Okoa said. ¡°I don¡¯t think you should be left alone¡ª¡±


    ¡°Okoa, leave now, before I slit your fucking throat and this king¡¯s officer, too.¡±


    Okoa looked stung. Then Belmont unbarred the door, and both men left, but not before Belmont said, ¡°We already tried cutting it off. Twice. It will not stay gone. I don¡¯t know what it wants with you, but it will not be denied.¡±


    They left him alone in his cabin. The sighing sea was just outside his window. Milky moonlight and a single candle provided the light to see the horror.


    John sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the blackened, oily monstrosity extending from the half-forearm he still had. An infection had sprung from his blackened stump. A hand of elongated, bony fingers, with wet, cracked, onxy-black leathery flesh stretched over it, and two-inch silver talons extending from each digit. Veins, which ought to have been hidden beneath human flesh, instead wrapped around black fingers and occasionally pulsed with dark purple light. Tentatively touching with his human hand, John wept when he realized his new hand felt no sensation. He hugged himself, and groaned, and the ship groaned with him, and a book fell from its shelf.


    Now he will never love me, John thought. Who can love a monster?


    It was not until that moment that he realized he had been entertaining the notion of finding Benjamin again, showing him what he had done to Spain, telling him the story of how they destroyed a great fortress and took more booty than almost any pirate in history, and how that might be enough to lure Ben away to someplace up north, perhaps to the Colonies. It is a cruel thing when fantasies die. They must live to give us hope. Absent hope, where do we turn to? John Laurier was contemplating that now.


    He wept. And laughed. Then he stood up and walked across the cabin and lifted his cutlass, which someone had sheathed and set on his desk. He meant to either cut off the arm or open his belly. He did not know which when he picked it up.


    But then something happened. The corrupted hand grabbed the hilt and suddenly John felt the hand turned to stone. That¡¯s what it felt like. The grip was as solid as granite, yet when he waved it about, it struck imaginary opponents in the air with the speed of a coral snake. He stood there a while, mesmerized by his control of it. Some part of him had imagined that since he could not feel it, he could not use it, and yet it functioned as well as his left hand. Better.


    John looked himself in the mirror. Naked, and with a demon¡¯s elongated hand, cutlass held tight.


    Then he fainted.

 Chapter 30: Tortuga

    Jacob¡¯s Ladder ¨C A rope ladder used to climb aboard a ship.


    THE BLADES CAME at him from the shadows. The first one was a dagger of Spanish make and the man who held it was short and stocky and with a mouth ravaged by scurvy. Woodes Rogers just barely had time to spot the glint of the blade by moonlight¡ªthe real moon¡¯s light¡ªand shoved the whore out of his way and shuffle-stepped backward to get his sword clear of its scabbard. The whore had grabbed onto him from the moment he stepped off the Duke and came ashore and it was clear now that she was meant to be a distraction.


    Woodes parried the dagger and sliced the brute across his neck, but not nearly deep enough. He was about to advance on his enemy when another assassin emerged from the intersection of alleyways behind him, Toledo steel in his hand. He side-stepped and the assassin¡¯s dagger tore his coat and Woodes push-stepped forward and kicked him in his chest, knocking him over the wheelbarrow full of dung someone had left parked in the alley.


    One of the assassins threw an empty bottle at him and missed.


    The French whore screamed and ran away.


    Woodes was momentarily alone, none of Tortuga¡¯s guards had come when the fighting began and he was certain they had instructions not to.


    The first assassin recovered and launched himself at Rogers, who parried again easily. These men were barely more than thugs, likely hired from within the ranks of Tortuga¡¯s underworld so that the French authorities could keep their hands clean. He parried the dagger once again and this time delivered his cutlass¡¯s blade into the assassin¡¯s neck, and slashed outwards. As the big man fell clutching his gushing throat, the second assassin was just climbing back to his feet. But Rogers rushed him and brought his blade down on the man¡¯s wrist, and heard the snap. The man screamed as the dagger fell from his limp hand and Rogers put his blade to the man¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Was it Ren¨¦? Answer me! I might spare you if you do.¡±


    ¡°C¡¯¨¦tait¡­c¡¯etait¡­un homme en blouse blanch¡ª¡±


    ¡°English, if you please. Who sent you?¡±


    ¡°It was¡ªa¡ªa man in a white coat, monsieur,¡± he said through strained English, gripping his broken wrist. ¡°White coat¡ªtall¡ªnever seen him¡ª¡±


    ¡°So,¡± he sighed, and stepped back from the man. A cutout, someone sent by the lieutenant-general, or someone close to him, trying to shield him from culpability. ¡°Go back and tell the man that hired you that I am in town to make business arrangements, and that the Duke¡ªthat¡¯s my ship back there, in case you missed it¡ªthe Duke and her crew are ready to blast these docks to flinders if I do not return within the hour.¡±


    ¡°Oui! Oui, I will tell him! Thank you, monsieur¡ª¡±


    ¡°Get you gone.¡±


    The man ran on and Rogers stood there a moment, sword in hand, wondering when the next attack would come. Probably farther up the main lane. That¡¯s where I would do it. Because another attack would certainly come, and the assassins would be more prepared. He knew how it would go. Politics on the islands were all the same. Political assassinations, too. They wanted to prevent him from reaching the embassy so that there could be no proof he ever actually made contact with the island¡¯s leadership. No formal aides could attest to having seen Captain Woodes Rogers or met his heralds. It would be just like he vanished off the face of the Earth.


    Woodes scabbarded his cutlass and patted himself down. The only offence to his person was the tear to his coat. He wished he¡¯d thought to bring a pistol. I knew it was going to be rough, but I did not know they held a grudge like this. It was only the previous governor¡¯s nephew that I killed, and it was a fair duel at sea, and that was years ago and who remembers that sort of thing? We should all be beyond this skullduggery. Surely any gentleman would see that.


    ____


    He had to be stealthy. He used the night to his advantage. The sky was filled with fast-moving clouds and he waited for clouds to pass in front of the moon before he moved, from alley to alley, keeping crouched. His attire would not blend in with the latest French fashions, no more than it could blend in with the usual garb of French pirates. Tortuga had been a Spanish colony twenty-five years ago, but the Spaniards had gotten sick of fighting the English over it and so had sold it to the French in a trade¡ªthe French had signed an agreement to buy their slaves only from Spain. The ink wasn¡¯t even dry on the treaty before the French broke it and did some slave business with the Dutch and English.


    Rogers ran up a set of stone steps, passing underneath a stone bridge and through Tortuga¡¯s only church, and hid in the graveyard behind. There he waited behind the tombstone of someone named Jean-Paul Cassel. Thankee for the safe passage, Monsieur Cassel, he thought sourly. He waited for another large cloud to pass beneath the moon, then he came out slinking in a crouch.


    So far he had avoided whoever else had been sent to kill him, but before long he would have to walk openly in the brightly lit lanes leading up to the embassy and the Governor¡¯s Mansion, because otherwise he would have to stalk through the jungle and there were coral snakes out there, and Caribee tribes who liked to collect white men¡¯s skulls.


    Rogers had to skirt the jungle for a while until he could take it no more. Insects were having a feast with him and he emerged with red sores all over his arms and hands. Tautly aware, he moved through the main lane with his hand resting casually on the pearly pommel of his cutlass, noting the looks he was getting. The lane was lit by torches, wooden houses and straw huts lined the muddy boardwalk. Pirates, privateers, French officers, and even families of five or six walked openly and without fear. There was not as much violence in these streets as Port Royal¡¯s lanes. In fact, he heard no gunshots at all.


    When the next attack came, it was in the form of four men following him; one on either side of the street, and two directly behind. These four looked a bit more lean and fit, with machetes stuck through their belts. At least one of them had a pistol.


    Rogers noticed them by their attentive stares. There was an old trick he¡¯d learned from his mentor, back when he first came to Port Royal. ¡°If you want to know if you¡¯re being followed,¡± said old Captain Robertson, ¡°take four lefts, or four rights, and if the same people are on your tail, then they¡¯re following you. Simple as.¡± Rogers had done that, taking four rights around a brightly lit tavern, and the idiots had exposed themselves.


    Lethal, prepared, coordinated, but not bright, he thought.


    He decided to turn suddenly into a hotel and asked the old man behind the front desk for a room. Rogers slapped down four reales for the night and even wrote his name in the guest book. When the old-timer started to lead him to his room, Rogers told him he had to use the latrine and stepped out the back door and bumped into one of the men that had been following him. They both stopped, a bit stunned, even a little embarrassed, looking at one another.


    Then the assassin wiped the gormless expression from his face and went for his machete and Rogers head-butted him and drew his sword all in one motion, and stabbed him in his abdomen. The assassin went down clutching his stomach but Rogers did not wait to see if he died, he scabbarded his weapon and jogged around the hotel to rejoin the main lane and found a crowd full of merchants in a marketplace, boxing up their wares for the day. He blended in with their crowd and disappeared.


    ____


    Tortuga had an inlet that could barely admit a single galleon, but one French war vessel had squeezed through it and was parked around the back of a large hill, in that very small inlet. That galleon was called the Indomptable, an eighty-gun ship of the line, and was itself the island¡¯s only embassy. The single dock where it was anchored was heavily guarded by French soldiers carrying rifles. The gangplank was heavily guarded, too, with torches lighting it up. There would be no going that way.


    So, cursing Ren¨¦ for forcing him to go through this, Rogers found a dark spot along the shore and eased himself into cold waters, fearing snakes and whatever else. He held his breath and went under, paddled along, coming up every so often for air. It took him ten minutes to slowly swim around to the Indomptable¡¯s stern, then guide himself along the port side until he came to Jacob¡¯s Ladder. These were usually left hanging for lifeboats that went on and returned from patrols.


    Captain Rogers hauled himself out of the water as quietly as he could, and hung from Jacob¡¯s Ladder while listening for footsteps or voices. When he was sure the deck was clear, he hauled himself over the railing and walked down into a companionway, drenched to the bone. The companionway was lit by a single candle. He heard laughter up ahead, and smelled smoked meat. He tried the door and was not surprised to find it unlocked. Stepping into the ward-room he found French lords and their whores laughing around a dinner table. A dozen men, some in white wigs tilted sideways and faces red from drink, were fondling breasts and squeezing buttocks and telling ribald jokes. They stopped laughing immediately and looked at the drenched Englishman standing in their doorway.


    ¡°Qu¡¯est-ce que c¡¯est?¡± said one fat French nobleman. Behind him stood a man in brown robes, a Catholic priest and no mistake. Not uncommon for French nobility to keep one around, though Rogers was a little surprised to see him lingering in this blatant debauchery.


    ¡°My lords of Tortuga,¡± he announced. ¡°My French is bad but I think most of you speak English. I apologize for the interruption, but my name is Captain Woodes Rogers, of the Admiralty Office away in Port Royal, and I formally request an audience to discuss a matter most urgent. I¡¯m afraid my appearance is the result of multiple attempts on my life since I entered your beautiful harbour, and so I beg your understanding in this lack of decorum.¡±


    Woodes glanced across the room and saw a tall, pot-bellied fellow in white wig glaring at him.


    ¡°Oh, hello there, Ren¨¦. So good to see you again, old friend. How long has it been?¡±


    ____


    The others had been dismissed. Ren¨¦ Duguay-Troulin, formerly captain of the French privateer vessel Trinit¨¦ and ardent slave-trader, sat across the table drinking wine from a goblet. Rogers looked across at a man who had spent forty years fighting at sea, slaying Dutchmen, Englishmen, Scotsmen, Spaniards, even sometimes his own Frenchmen if they turned pirate. The man was a tactician, businessman, and nobleman, with a predator¡¯s honed senses, and yet now he smiled and farted like a child as he giggled and said, ¡°I hope it wasn¡¯t too much trouble getting here, Capitaine.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Ren¨¦, I suppose I would have been disappointed had you not tried.¡± Rogers had his coat off, and wrung it dry, the water dribbling to the floor. He set it over the back of his chair and sipped his wine, confident it would not be poisoned. He had made himself known to the other captains that had been in this room, and for all Ren¨¦ knew dozens of other people had seen him arrive. Rogers was too far in now for Ren¨¦ to kill him and claim to have never seen him. Tortuga was thick with English spies, same as Port Royal was with French and Spanish spies.


    ¡°You asked how long it has been,¡± said Ren¨¦, handing his empty goblet to the only other person left in the room, which was the robed priest. ¡°I think since you last sailed your Duke from these shores, just after you admitted to killing Cluzet¡¯s nephew on the sea. Cluzet may be dead, but his hatred for you lives. Before he died he blamed me for letting you go, and made sure my career was stifled.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lieutenant-governor now. I think you did well for yourself, despite everything.¡±


    ¡°Why have you come here? I trust it is not to make amends.¡± As soon as Ren¨¦ said it, the priest bent over and whispered something in his ear, to which Ren¨¦ nodded and waved dismissively.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Rogers crossed his legs, and brushed away some seaweed that had clung to his boots. ¡°You have me there, sir. I have business partners coming through here soon. Slavers. They have business partners here who demand that they check in before going into Port Royal to sell their slaves. They have no choice, they have to pass through here on their way to Jamaica.¡±


    ¡°How is this a problem?¡± said Ren¨¦ with a shrug.


    ¡°They want assurances that they can pass inspection without having any slaves go missing.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t want to be taxed, is what you are saying.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a tax, Ren¨¦¡ª¡±


    ¡°Governor,¡± said the priest, speaking for the first time.


    Rogers smiled patiently. ¡°Governor. You know as well as I do that a few coins for wharfage fees and any transactions made inside Tortuga are perfectly fine, but simply taking one¡¯s fairly gotten slaves is¡ªpardon me for saying so, excessive. Unfair, even.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re calling me unfair?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying there are people at your docks doing unfair things in your name, Governor.¡±


    The priest said, ¡°It costs money to keep things running in Tortuga.¡±


    ¡°No doubt it does,¡± Rogers said. ¡°And it costs to keep the Church¡¯s coffers full, too, I am sure.¡±


    The priest glared at him.


    Ren¨¦ sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. ¡°These business partners of yours. Would they be willing to sell us some of their stock, for a discounted price?¡±


    ¡°I cannot speak for them¡ª¡±


    ¡°You can. You have. You are.¡±


    Rogers pursed his lips. ¡°I suppose I might be able to twist some arms. But why do you require more slaves? I understood Tortuga was well supplied.¡± With a glance at the priest. ¡°And that the Church had converted many Caribee natives and Africans to the Faith. That must make a terrific workforce.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps not so great as you think, Captain,¡± said Ren¨¦, leaning back to light an ivory pipe. ¡°And we require more for what is coming.¡±


    Rogers winced. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. What is coming?¡±


    Ren¨¦ arched an eyebrow. ¡°Have you not had the problems with natives on your island?¡±


    ¡°No more than usual. They typically stay in the inner parts of the island and do not interfere with our plantations or with Port Royal. Nor do they harry Kingston or any other villages. Could you be more specific?¡±


    ¡°More specific?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    The priest suddenly laughed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Father, is there something amusing?¡± Rogers said.


    Ren¨¦ chortled. ¡°Let me show you something.¡±


    ____


    The Beast was kept in the bilge, and for a horrifying moment when Rogers saw it he thought Ren¨¦ had brought him down here to be fed to it. The skinless creature was breathing heavily, bucking its spiked spine against the iron bars. It was kept in a cage at the far end of the bilge, in darkness, amid sloshing water, the bones of its previous meals¡ªdog, cat, mule¡ªwere picked clean and lying inside the cage with it. The lieutenant-governor had two guards with him, each with a lantern, and he took one of their lanterns and led Rogers over to it. Rogers hesitated, but checked his manhood. The Beast looked exactly like those that had been captured in Port Royal, except this one was alive.


    Ren¨¦ and his priest said nothing, only smiled back Rogers as the Beast thrashed against the bars and its face split open exactly like the others had done and reached out with a human-like hand, claws slashing at air, just two feet from Rogers, who leapt back from it.


    Ren¨¦ clapped Rogers on the shoulder and led him back up. Without saying a word, he took Rogers from the bilge to the main deck, then down the gangplank and across the dock, and pointed out over the inlet, to the jungle hugging the opposite shore. ¡°Do you see anything?¡±


    Rogers, still shaken, trying to hold his manhood in check, shook his head. ¡°No.¡±


    Ren¨¦ nodded to the priest. ¡°Show him.¡±


    The priest then turned to one of the guards. ¡°Signal de feu.¡±


    The guard nodded curtly and ran across the dock and halfway up the hill, almost to the fortress that was still being built¡ªit had spent years in construction. The guard raised a pistol and fired in the air, then waved a torch in a circling pattern.


    Rogers almost gasped when he saw the skies light up. From the fort came arcs of flaming arrows, they sailed over his head and went across the water, landing on the far shores and even setting a few of the trees aflame. In moments, he saw scuttling black forms. Men, all muddied up, some of them carrying clubs and spears, retreating silently back into the jungle.


    ¡°They get closer every day, testing our defences,¡± said Ren¨¦.


    Woodes cleared his throat. ¡°The natives? They¡¯re targeting you now?¡±


    Ren¨¦ reached into his pocket and pulled out a small statue, like a totem, carved out of stone. He handed it to Rogers, who studied it. To him it looked like an octopus with many eyes, some of them painted purple. ¡°I¡¯ve made a study of religions, Woodes. It has long been a fascination of mine, and it has been necessary because the Caribee natives were once so vitally important for trade. Now we have them mostly suppressed and do not really require their cooperation. But forty years ago when I got to know them, I learned their language, I learned that they only carved their gods into stone¡ªnot animals, not people, only their gods¡ªand I knew many of their chiefs by name, and I knew all their gods¡¯ names.¡±


    Ren¨¦ pointed to the statue in Rogers¡¯s hand.


    ¡°That is not one of their gods.¡±


    For a moment, Rogers turned the thing over in his hand. ¡°What does it mean? They¡¯ve a new religion.¡±


    ¡°Two Caribee attacked my men on a hunting expedition. Killed and skinned one of the men. We shot one of them, captured them, brought them back for interrogation. Do you know what that man claimed? That during the Cataclysm, the firmament¡ªthat¡¯s not their word, of course, but it¡¯s what he meant¡ªthe firmament sent something down from the sky. A Traveler, he called it. When he described this Traveler, it sounded much like that totem you hold in your hand.¡±


    Rogers looked across the river. ¡°They¡¯ve been testing your defences since then?¡±


    ¡°They have. And there¡¯s a thousand or more of them, cutting down more trees than ever to make bows and arrows and spears. That much my scouts are certain of.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­sorry to hear that, old friend. That sounds like a lot of burden to keep on your shoulders daily. But what does this all have to do with slaves?¡±


    Ren¨¦ sighed, and began walking up the hill. Rogers followed him patiently, and the priest followed just behind. Hands clasped behind his back, Ren¨¦ explained, ¡°We are being left alone out here¡ªyou are, too, or haven¡¯t you noticed?¡±


    ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The Caribbean is not a priority during this Firmament Crisis, whatever you want to call it. All our nations are pulling inwards, clutching their armies and their navies close to home jealously, to defend their lands, their crops, from their enemies. These Long Nights¡ªsome of them have lasted twenty days, mon ami. I am sure you¡¯ve noticed. That is too long without sunlight.¡±


    Rogers nodded. ¡°Yes, I know that much about botany. Plants need sunlight.¡±


    ¡°The natives are getting restless. Something is happening. That Beast back there, I¡¯ve heard that you suffered attacks by such things in Port Royal. But it is only the beginning. There are fouler things the firmament has yet to cough up, and the natives are worshipping them. Their gods¡­are not like ours.¡±


    ¡°They are foul demons,¡± said the priest.


    Rogers turned to look at him. ¡°Is this the Church¡¯s stance?¡±


    ¡°It is the Stance of God Almighty. Satan had encroached far past his allotted boundaries and is bringing about the End of Days.¡±


    Rogers looked at Ren¨¦ with renewed appreciation. ¡°You astonish me, old friend. I had no idea you had gone so religious.¡±


    ¡°It is the imperative of every man¡¯s soul to find spiritual and Holy deliverance,¡± said Ren¨¦. He shrugged. ¡°Of course, I do not believe all things can be explained through Father Gavand¡¯s faith,¡± he said, nodding towards the priest. ¡°Religious reasoning is not to be applied everywhere. Some things are perversions of God¡¯s great works, and so cannot be examined by His divine intent.¡±


    Father Gavand made a concerning face, and Rogers caught it by moonlight.


    Ren¨¦ suddenly hissed. ¡°Who is doing this to us? Who? Who has put this Black Veil over us? And why?¡±


    Rogers knew it was a rhetorical question, so he said, ¡°I cannot account for God¡¯s machinations, old friend, nor the Devil¡¯s. But I can say that this has happened before.¡±


    The priest looked over at Rogers sharply. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    For a moment Woodes only paced with hands clasped behind him. ¡°I have been doing some studying, reading accounts by historians and listening to the latest from Men of Letters away in London and elsewhere. All I can gather is that this same phenomenon once transpired, long ago, and that men were alive to see it. It happened in 536 A.D. and continued for at least a year and a half, and that even after the long dark ended the world was still freezing. In 541, the first bubonic plague broke out. A bit different than this new Disease, to be sure, but still a plague. This thing we are all going through, it is not unheard of, Governor.¡±


    That seemed to take Ren¨¦ aback, and he scratched his chin, ruminating. ¡°A curse? One laid on the world, and has returned somehow? Did some evil sorcerers cast this curse seven hundred years ago, and failed to blanket the whole world? Are they merely trying again?¡±


    ¡°We cannot rule anything out. But it is something we must all endure together, Ren¡ªGovernor. That is something we should all remember. We all need each other right now, and no mistake. We must make friends. So, tell me, what is your position, sir?¡±


    Ren¨¦ sighed again and came to a stop near the fort, and gazed up at the moon. ¡°Tell your partners I want their slaves. We will give them a fair price, but they must let us at least buy a few at a discount before they sail to Port Royal and sell the rest.¡±


    ¡°And we get to pick the choicest ones,¡± said Father Gavand.


    Ren¨¦ nodded in agreement.


    ¡°You can pick two of their choicest,¡± Rogers countered. ¡°And the rest will be discounted.¡±


    The lieutenant-governor looked at him. Smiled. ¡°Very well, it will be as you say. Just be sure they understand.¡±


    Rogers held out his hand. ¡°I will make them understand, Governor.¡±


    The Frenchman glanced at the proffered hand. ¡°Before I shake your hand, there is the matter of Cartagena.¡±


    ¡°Cartagena?¡±


    ¡°The Spanish Silver Train. Last we saw one another, mon ami, we spoke of it.¡±


    Rogers sighed and reeled in his hand. ¡°You cannot be still on that. You are like a dog with a bone.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s ripe for the plucking. And we have the schedules now.¡±


    ¡°The hell you do,¡± said Rogers, eyeing him.


    ¡°I have the schedules,¡± Ren¨¦ repeated. ¡°I only require a little help. As I told you, we are on our own out here.¡±


    Rogers had to think long and hard about this. The Spain sent ships twice a year from Mexico to the Philippines to buy spices, silks, and other Asian commodities, which they then turned around and sold in America and Europe for profit. It was the great key to Spain¡¯s global trade, and the main reason they fought to keep a presence in this part of the world. Much of that silver came from Cartagena, it being the hub of Spanish colonial wealth. The silver extracted there from Peruvian mines was sent in raw form to all of Spain¡¯s territories. The last time anyone tried to rob the ships in Cartagena the Spanish armada chased them south, all the way around Cape Horn, into those waiting winds that blew at gale force and had destroyed more British ships than any other seas on earth.


    ¡°You want to make an arrangement?¡± Rogers said. ¡°You want a British ship to sail with you when next the Train runs?¡±


    ¡°No, I want you to sail with me.¡±


    Rogers laughed. ¡°You, the pirate-hunter. Become the pirate yourself, eh?¡±


    Ren¨¦ shrugged. ¡°Privateer. Like you.¡±


    ¡°I would need to secure the letter of marque.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be a problem. Not for a man as persuasive as you.¡± Ren¨¦ smiled, held out his hand.


    There were several reasons to be reluctant in accepting a French captain¡¯s friendship, their navy was small but daring, and French privateers had more than once boarded an honest British merchant ship and cut the ears off the captains, claiming the merchants were in fact smugglers of some kind. They had also ¡°rescued¡± women from these smugglers and never gave them back. They went back on their word a lot, and sometimes paradoxically made Tortuga friendly to all pirates, in what was an obvious effort to encourage those pirates to destabilize British and Spanish control of the Caribbean.


    There were lots of reasons to be reticent. But after a moment¡¯s consideration, Rogers shook the Frenchman¡¯s hand. ¡°All right. We have a deal. I have a purser aboard the Duke, he¡¯s good about these things, he can deal with the particulars and draw up the paperwork.¡±


    Ren¨¦ smiled again and said, ¡°I am glad those ruffians did not kill you. This has been most auspicious.¡±


    Rogers smiled back politely. ¡°Yes, I am most fortunate.¡±


    ¡°So, where to now, Capitaine?¡±


    Rogers shrugged. ¡°I expect I shall sail soon, to hunt for a couple of Spanish ships that have harangued us too long. I will sail with the Devil¡¯s Son and his Lively¡ªI have promised him long enough. We were supposed to chase the Coronado months ago, but we have been delayed due to various attempts on Port Royal, and now I fear she may have sailed far from where our intelligence last had her.¡±


    The lieutenant-governor made a face. ¡°Do you mean the Le¨®n Coronado?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You¡¯ve heard of her?¡±


    Suddenly, both Ren¨¦ and Father Gavand tossed their heads back and laughed.


    ¡°Have I missed something amusing again?¡±


    ¡°Mon ami, today is your lucky day,¡± said Ren¨¦. ¡°Our ships have spotted her all across the Bocas del Drag¨®n. She has been injured in some storm, we think, and was taking on water, having to careen on multiple islands. But she is most distressed, and ripe for the plucking.¡±


    ¡°Astonishing!¡± This was exciting beyond all measure. He could sail to Port Royal tonight and be back there in two days if the winds were strong. He would make sure to bring Vhingfrith along, of course, not just because he had promised him the Coronado but in case there was another Long Night. I will need his cat¡¯s-eye. ¡°Governor, can you give me her whereabouts?¡±


    Ren¨¦ winked at him. ¡°Mon ami, that ship has been a thorn in our side for years, also. I can point you to the exact island she was last seen, and I¡¯ll be glad to do it.¡±

 Chapter 31: Uncharted Isles

    ¡°Dance the hempen jig.¡± ¨C To be hanged.


    ¡°BOAT YOUR OARS!¡± called Oddsummers to his men. The plaguemen pulled in their oars and jumped out to walk waist-deep in water, and hauled the longboat to shore. Oddsummers had been the first in the water, the first to the beach, and the first to draw his sword and pistol. When the plaguemen saw their captain do this they looked between one another uncertainly. ¡°It¡¯s up there,¡± he said, pointing towards a hill, atop which there was a craggy rock. The desert island was the largest of its dozen or so brothers, with only six palm trees and a short field of rugged grass blowing in the breeze. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Oughtn¡¯t we make camp, thirrr,¡± slurred Bainbridge. His yellow flesh sweat beads beneath the harsh sun.


    Oddsummers smiled behind his plague mask. ¡°No need. We won¡¯t be here that long. You there, Mason, watch the boat while we¡¯re gone. Have a pistol ready in hand, in case lookouts on the Edinburgh signal that they¡¯ve spotted a ship.¡± He looked out his fifth-rate ship. Iron-sick as she was, the bitch had held together, through no small effort of his crew, who had laboured day and night (and Long Night) to use the spare lumber and materials they brought with them to repair her as they went.


    ¡°The rest of you, follow me. It isn¡¯t a long walk but it can be arduous, I¡¯m told.¡±


    They set out across the hissing grass, a line of filthy and sickly-looking men with only a few swords and pistols between them. Some of them only had a shovel or a pitchfork for defence. Oddsummers was not worried, though, he did not anticipate any trouble this far out from the Caribbean.


    When they got to the foot of the hill, Oddsummers commanded a man named Cecil to stay behind with a pistol in hand, to signal them in case they could not hear Mason¡¯s shot once they were inside the cave. Oddsummers began the climb, almost straight up in places, requiring him to climb by scrambling up jagged rocks, narrowly avoiding slipping on dried shale. Sweat poured off his skin, he breathed heavily within his plague mask. His feet crushed the remainder of an ancient bow, and he kicked over a stone arrow more than once. No doubt both were left by some ancients no one remembered, not even the Mayans or Aztecs. Just one more offshoot of mankind, probably ancients who went for a single canoe ride and got blown out to sea for days, perhaps months, surviving by fishing at sea until at last their canoe washed up here. There were clay bowls that indicated they perhaps built a small civilization here. Wonder whatever happened to them?


    Probably whatever happened to the poor soul resting at the mouth of the cave. Once he reached the summit, Oddsummers stared into the black maw of the cave¡¯s mouth, and there lay the dusty, broken skeleton of a man wearing nothing but shredded rags. Behind him, Bainbridge shuddered. ¡°It¡¯s all right, Bainbridge,¡± Oddsummers said. ¡°Shipwrecks happen all the time. You¡¯ll find more sad souls like this on most islands, especially the closer we get to the West Indies.¡±


    ¡°Yeth, thirrrr. It¡¯s only¡­¡± He trailed off, and wiped the drool from his deformed jaw. ¡°I never thhaww no man ever in thith kind o¡¯ shape. Usually thar ain¡¯t nuthin¡¯ left.¡±


    ¡°Aye, but you¡¯re used to sailing closer to home,¡± Oddsummers panted. Out here it is a battle between dampness than can spread infection, and dryness that can wither you. Only the grass and trees have figured out a way to survive in the long term. Well, them and the Caribee.¡± He glanced around at the small cays in the distance. ¡°Thank God none of them are out here.¡±


    ¡°Are they at thavage as people thay, thirrr?¡±


    ¡°Worse than savage, I hear.¡± He knelt beside the dead man, looking into his jawless face, the empty sockets. Oddsummers pulled out his vial of Tam and shook it. Pink light emanated from within, like a captured lightning bug. He popped the vial and poured a bit onto the dead man¡¯s bones. He waited a while. Nothing happened. The plaguemen all stood in the sun, impatiently watching their captain. When nothing changed in the dead man he replaced the vial in his coat and said, ¡°It¡¯s further in.¡± He stepped into the shadow of the cave, and almost at once the blessing of a cool, damp environment assuaged their discomfort.


    Oddsummers snapped his fingers at Bainbridge, who gestured for a young man named Anderson, who quickly knelt and pulled a torch out of his burlap bag and used knife and flint to create a spark. In seconds the torch billow flame and he handed it to Oddsummers, who led them into the cave, towards the sounds of rushing water. ¡°Stay close,¡± he told them. ¡°There are old traps here, some of them may still work.¡±


    Following the sound of water, they came to a hole in the ground big enough to fit several horses through. There had been collapse of the cave floor centuries ago, leading into an underground cavern and (if tales were to be believed) a huge spiraling storm of water. A whirlpool. But before he walked around to the other side of the hole, Oddsummers knelt and ran his torch all over the ground, and found a tripwire which he followed to a pair of sticks cleverly hidden in shadow, propping up dozens of rocks that would collapse from the wall and crush a man. He sliced the tripwire carefully using a dagger, then searched for more.


    Confident there were no more traps, he handed his torch over to Anderson to light a second and third torch. Oddsummers tossed his torch down into the hole and watched it fall twenty feet before it clattered against damp stone floor. Bainbridge took the rope he¡¯d hauled from the Edinburgh and tied it to a sturdy boulder outside the cave, and tossed the rest of the rope down.


    Oddsummers ordered three of his men to go first, including Bainbridge. While he believed his crew was loyal to him, Oddsummers lived by the philosophy, Trust, but verify. He could not risk going down first, only to have them roll up the rope and leave him for dead, and abscond with his ship. Once a few of them rappelled down, Oddsummers began his descent.


    The roar of rushing water became louder. Damp spray collected on his cheeks and forehead. It became almost too cold for him, and he was glad of the torch¡¯s warmth was he reclaimed it. He waved the flames around slowly, revealing the narrow passage ahead, so narrow only a single man could go through at a time, sideways, squeezing through.


    Once they were all down, Oddsummers took the lead. The rushing water soon became deafening. The ground sloped dramatically. Once out the other side, he ordered his men to fan out, and they all stood in terror at what their torches revealed. A whirlpool of stupendous size, occupying this chamber alone, swirling at mind-boggling speeds and creating enough force and noise they had to shout to one another to be heard. ¡°Careful now, lads.¡± He gestured for them to follow him. Some of them stood transfixed by the power of this tremendous whirlpool, spinning in darkness for who knew how many centuries, slowly eating away at this cave.


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    There was a small path between the whirlpool and the stone walls. They picked there way carefully around the churning water. One of them slipped and nearly fell in, screamed, then turned and tried to run. Oddsummers jerked his pistol out and said, ¡°On your life, plagueman, do not desert me! You are my devotee! Stay your feet, keep your courage, and lay eyes on something few others ever see!¡±


    The plagueman nodded tremulously, but followed his captain¡¯s order.


    But even Oddsummers had to admit the gargantuan eddy challenged even his courage. One slip, just one small misstep, and he would be gone, pulled down into the black water and drowned and coughed up somewhere along the seafloor, or wherever this whirlpool let out.


    They made it to a flat patch of rock on the other side, and walked away from the whirlpool. Everyone calmed down for the moment. That is, until, they came to the pirate graveyard.


    The cavern they stepped into was littered with cairns, stone pilings that honored the dead men and woman laid to rest beneath them. The ground was all rock, none could be buried here, but the tales said pirate crews who held their captains in the highest esteem sometimes brought their bodies here after they had died gloriously, and were given a special service and a final sea chanty written in their name. Some of the Pirate Kings were down here, one or two who had served under Blackbeard himself. They came to rest here, these poor, degenerate, brave souls, in a place that not even God¡¯s footprint could touch.


    The room was stagnant, the air did not seem to move down here. Oddsummers waved his torch around, the flames revealing one cairn after the next. The most recent dead were put near the back. He made sure his men spread out, to cover more ground.


    Bainbridge whispered, as if the dead could hear, ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of anything like thisshhh, sir.¡±


    ¡°Nor had I before last year,¡± said Oddsummers, coming to the farthest grave. The most recent. ¡°I wasn¡¯t even sure it would be here.¡±


    He knelt and set the torch to one side. He started digging through the pile of stones. It did not take long to reveal the dead captain. His body had some dried muscle on him, bits of meat clinging to his chest, neck, and jaw. Down here, the maggots would never reach him. Some of the Caribbean¡¯s pirates thought this place was magical, and that once placed underneath these stones the captains would all be preserved. Gold doubloons were laid on their eyes as part of this superstition, to pay off whatever spirit kept the whirlpool spinning. Apparently it was a ritual that began a long-forgotten cult, whose influence had spread briefly throughout the Caribbean, and had blended with other beliefs from the Moors out of African and certain witches from the Colonies.


    That was what the Caribbean had become, a melting pot of not only peoples, but of beliefs.


    Oddsummers did not seek the gold doubloons laid on the captain¡¯s eyes. What he wanted instead was an experiment. He removed the vial of Tam again, popped its cork, and spilled a few drops across the captain¡¯s body. He stood back from the corpse and waited.


    For a long while nothing happened.


    Bainbridge and the others shifted nervously, all of them hovering near the edge of the graveyard, ready to leave.


    Then, there was movement. It looked as though the dead captain¡¯s left wrist twitched. Oddsummers thought he might have imagined it so he waited a few minutes longer. He lifted his torch and paced around the captain¡¯s corpse, looking at his timepiece. There was a rattling sound from the corpse. Bainbridge made some low moan of anxiety.


    Now there was no mistake¡ªthe entire left hand began to move.


    Oddsummers knelt and studied the muscle tissue there, becoming wet and viscous, then solidifying. He stared in wide-eyed amazement. The muscle tissue suddenly extended along the forearm. It¡¯s trying to re-grow but can¡¯t. He watched for several more minutes until at last the hand came to rest and never moved again.


    Oddsummers ran his tongue along his teeth, thinking.


    He decided to try more, so he knelt beside the dead man again and this time poured half the vial of Tam onto its arm and forehead. For a while nothing happened.


    Then, suddenly, red viscous fluids began leaking like pus from every crack in every one of the dead man¡¯s bones. Some of that fluid solidified and became a muscle-like structure.


    Then something happened that had the other plaguemen running from the graveyard, every one of them screaming. A man was running so fast he slipped and fell into the whirlpool and was never seen again, taking one of the torches with him. Another man dropped his torch into the whirlpool by accident. In darkness they all scrambled, and screamed, and begged to be out of this place. All except for Captain Oddsummers, who stood watching the dead captain who had risen to his feet and was groping around the cave like a blind man in search of his eyes.


    ____


    When he returned to the Edinburgh, Oddsummers was surprised to find two of his plaguemen that he¡¯d left behind to watch the ship had hung themselves. Their yellow bodies swung quietly in the wind from ropes lashed to the yardarms. ¡°That is rather fortunate,¡± he said as he climbed back aboard the ship.


    ¡°Wh-what ithh, thirrr?¡± said Bainbridge, still trembling from fear. He and the others looked damned happy to be returned to the Edinburgh.


    ¡°Freshly dead men,¡± he said, looking up at the hanged men. ¡°I make this short stop because I knew there were dead men here to be experimented on. Now look what those two fellows have given me. Poor souls. But their sacrifice will let me know how much more use it will be.¡±


    ¡°What will be, Cap¡¯n?¡±


    ¡°The Tam, Mr. Bainbridge. The firmament has produced a Disease that kill men, but its gift is that the Tam their bodies become may restore life to those already gone. But how far gone must one be for the Tam to have no use?¡± He gestured at the two hanged men. ¡°We are about to find out. Cut them both down, if you please, and bring one of them to my cabin.¡±


    ____


    That night, Oddsummers sat in his cabin with the corpse of a Mr. Taylor strapped down to his desk. The Edinburgh had weighed anchor and was headed west, deeper into the Caribbean proper. Mr. Taylor thrashed for a moment against the ropes and chains that kept him fastened to the table, and Oddsummers had pen and paper out and was sketching the Resurrected man while taking notes on the smell, the observant decay, and the man¡¯s inability to speak.


    Fair more animated than the others, though. The ursulas were all right about one thing, though, the Tam¡¯s power is getting stronger.


    Oddsummers removed his shirt and folded it neatly over the back of his chair. He opened the cabin door and called for Bainbridge. When the man arrived, he said, ¡°Bring the goat.¡± Moments later, the goat was led into the cabin by rope, and Bainbridge and Rollings and two others were made to sit and watch as Oddsummers drew the knife across the goat¡¯s neck and then held it up by its hind legs. The blood splashed down into a bowl made of copper and when it was all done Oddsummers drank it, then shared his drink with Mr. Taylor, who appeared to remember what thirst was.


    He then dipped his fingers into the blood and drew the symbols for Jupiter, Minerva, and Concord across the dead man¡¯s chest. ¡°Rest easy, friend. I know you meant to be free of my service, but I¡¯m afraid we have a bit more need of you just now. Then you may rest. When your service to me is through, then you may rest, I promise.¡±


    Bainbridge and the others remained silent, but exchanged worried glances. A chill wind came in through the window.


    Then, suddenly, Mr. Taylor reached his hand out, and Oddsummers took it. He looked into the dead man¡¯s eyes, both of which looked mostly lucid if a bit rheumy. He spoke to Mr. Taylor for a while, trying to get him to converse, but alas the dead man had nothing to say, but kept looking up at Oddsummers the way a trusting child will look upon its father for guidance.


    As the night wore on, Mr. Taylor moved less and less, until at last he went still and never moved again.


    Oddsummers made note of that, and of everything else that had happened. Then he drank the last of the goat¡¯s blood and said, ¡°Tell Mr. Corbin to tack north. I think I sense a tramontane moving in.¡±


    ¡°Yeth, thirr.¡± Bainbridge left. They all left except Rollings, the engineer, who stood in the doorway looking back at the captain.


    ¡°Something else, Mr. Rollings?¡± said Oddsummers.


    ¡°What was all this for, Captain? This expedition. The experiments.¡±


    Oddsummers sighed and sat in his chair and looked out the window at the setting sun. ¡°Imagine a crew that could never die, Mr. Rollings,¡± he said. He lit a pipe and took a draft. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be a famous thing?¡±

 Chapter 32: Hunger Makes Men Stupid

    sea legs ¨C When a sailor can walk comfortably on a moving ship.


    TWO MORE MEN had tried to grab her, Jack was sure of it. And they would have done, had she not been savvy like her mother taught her. She left the treehouse every day the sun was up, and pickpocketed in the normal clustering of daily shoppers in the Fish Market. She sometimes carried a basket she''d found in an alley. The basket made it look like she was somebody¡¯s child and with a task to do. They didn¡¯t suspect her when she dropped her basket in front of them, pretending to have sprained an ankle. While they helped her gather up her old clothes that had spilled from the basket, she plucked their purses.


    The first man to try to hurt her had snatched her wrist and dragged her into an alley to beat her. He¡¯d gone to hit her and was surprised when he discovered she wasn''t a boy. He started laughing, and between that and her screaming it attracted at least one bearded sailor coming up from the docks, limping from gout or something. He dropped his duffle and ran at the man to chase him off. Jack didn¡¯t even thank the sailor, she just picked up her thing and ran off.


    The second time hadn¡¯t been nearly as close, but the tall, smelly sailor with a cloudy white eye had followed her for almost an hour, into The Golden Goose and away from it, down to the docks and to the Merchant Exchange, then to the Turtle Crawles. She finally lost him when she walked up to a brig called the Apollo and stood in line of sailors waiting to go up the gangplank. She pretended to be a cabin boy prepatingto leave. When she finally lost sight of the white-eyed man, Jack felt she had pushed her luck enough for one day and returned (on a circuitous route) to the treehouse.


    The whole journey back she had to keep pulling up her pants. She was wasting away, and the belt around her waist could tighten no more. It wasn¡¯t just difficult to get food for herself, everyone was struggling. ¡°Oi! Where¡¯s the cattle what the governor promised?!¡± was a cry heard often in the markets. And ¡°Ain¡¯t we ever going to see the fruits from Antigua that was s¡¯pposed to be brought in last week?!¡± and ¡°Oi! They¡¯re hoarding all the fish up in the forts, ain¡¯t they?! They must do, for how else d¡¯ye explain the shortage?!¡±


    There had been fights in the markets. And lines of people waiting to get their share of the fish brought in each day. Those lines were monitored by steely-eyed militiamen who walked about with cocked hats and muskets with bayonets. Jack dared not get in those lines without a parent.


    On her way out of Port Royal, she swung by Mr. Cowert¡¯s place. None of his neighbours had seen him, he might have died during the last Long Night when some claimed to have seen more of those Beasts moving between alleys. She had already mourned Mr. Cowert. She took the candle she had stolen from The Dashing Inn and lighting it over her parents¡¯ graves. She hadn¡¯t cried. She was too weak to cry and had not much left in her tear ducts besides.


    And now as she ascended the rope ladder she held the pistol Mr. Cowert had given her, and walked through the house to make sure no monster or man was waiting on her, then pulled up the ladder and stowed it away. Then, a bright, shimmering light moved across the sky, and when she looked up she saw the clouds moving unnaturally fast under an unfamiliar pink-and-grey moon. Then she turned and looked south, where, in the corner of her eye, she¡¯d spotted a small, crescent, green moon nearing the horizon.


    Jack heard screaming from Port Royal. Men, women and children all realizing what she had just realized. It was to be another Long Night.


    Too weak to care, too weak to lament for anything but her poor starving belly, Jack walked into the treehouse and when she felt her pants falling off her hips she let them puddle at her feet. She drank the water from her canteen. Water was the only plentiful thing in all of Port Royal, it seemed. And as she listened to panicking townsfolk rushing home to hide from the Long Night, and the pistols fired into the sky by drunken sailors, and the whistles and horns of the King¡¯s Militia trying to bring about order, Jack stared at nothing and fell asleep.


    ____


    When she woke up, it could have been morning or it could have been night. How can there ever be mornin¡¯ when there¡¯s no sun? she thought. What is time? Do we have time anymore, or does it disappear with the sun, and return with it? The questions of a child that bordered on the philosophical musings of an adult. Not much difference, really. Jack didn¡¯t notice this change in herself, only the hunger that was always there like a rock. A stinging rock that sank lower in her gut and now when she scratched her ribs she could feel each of them in detail, could fit a finger between them.


    There came a knocking sound. Jack opened her eyes and looked around, sensing a headache forming. A headache from hunger, no doubt. And the knocking continued, not rhythmic at all, more like intermittent. She sat up and even that felt exhausting. She picked up the pistol and pulled back the hammer and walked outside to the wraparound porch, where the sound emanated.


    When the knocking happened again, she peered over the rail and looked at the source. Two small boys with brown or black skin. She gasped. Except for headbands and body paint they were naked, and they had what appeared to be a rope with a rock attached at the end, and they were throwing it up at her porch hoping to wrap it around the railing.


    ¡°Who are you? Go away!¡± she said, pointing her pistol down at them.


    They stared up at her. The two alien moons gave their white eyes ghostly glow. One of them spoke, and it was in the most incomprehensible tongue. She knew at once they were Caribee, natives that had been here before even the Spanish came to settle. That was the tale her mother told her. There were few of them left in Jamaica but they were all throughout the Caribbean islands, and rowed small boats up and down rivers and even sometimes across the sea.


    ¡°Go away!¡± she said again.


    One of the boys opened his mouth and stuck his fingers in it, miming eating.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t have any food. Now go away!¡±


    But they did not leave. Indeed, they kept trying to throw the rope up and it kept bouncing off the bottom of the porch, falling all the way back to the jungle floor. They would dance out of the way, reel in the slack, and try again.


    ¡°I mean it!¡± she said, pointing the pistol at them. And she did. And she was about to fire when she heard rustling in the forest.


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    The two boys looked behind them and greeted a third boy who held something in his arms, something fat and squirming. Jack¡¯s stomach nearly throttled her when she realized what it was. A pig. A big, black, fat pig that was so heavy the third little boy could barely hold it up. She knelt on the edge of the porch and peered down at them. The first two boys once again put their fingers in their mouths.


    They weren¡¯t asking her for food. They were offering her their food.


    Or were they?


    Hunger makes men stupid. That was her father¡¯s ghost speaking to her. He¡¯d spoken of the days before he had his sea legs, back when he and the men of the Copper-lick had been becalmed for almost two full weeks. No wind, no rain. Some had thirsted with lips so dry they cracked and bled. And hunger made them see things on the horizon, phantom ships on the horizon that disappeared as soon as you blinked. It made men argue over rations, made them draw weapons on each other. Nearly made them kill.


    Jack had never wanted to trust three strangers more in all her life, but she that if she threw down the rope ladder she was giving them an easy means to attack her. They looked old enough to do evil things. How old did boys have to be to do such evil things? She didn¡¯t want to find out.


    But her stomach clenched, and she felt almost nauseous. It was a strange feeling, this starvation. You wanted to eat but at the same time the thought of eating made you sick. Sometimes the hunger evaporated into a grey fog of endless thought and suffering and you became numb to every sensation. And yet when you saw food you felt pulled towards it, compelled to do hellish things, obscene things, if only to sate your belly.


    Her hand was on the rope ladder. The three boys nodded eagerly, gesturing for her to come down and join them in eating the pig. The pig squealed in the other boys arms and to Jack¡¯s ears it sounded so sweet, like the promise of life.


    Then, the boy out front did something so shocking that it temporarily pulled Jack out of grey nothingness and made her question if she was dreaming. He pulled out a dagger, and knelt. He put the blade to the right side of his head and it glimmered in green moonlight. With his left hand he pulled down on his ear. Then with a swift outward slash he cut off the lobe of his ear and tossed it into the jungle. He stood up, bleeding, showing no pain, and flung the knife up onto the porch, where it landed a few feet away from Jack.


    The night stood still. The pig squealed. The boys didn¡¯t move and neither did Jack.


    The wounded boy stood there, bleeding, looking up at her with plaintive eyes. He pointed north, into the jungle.


    Jack did not know when her hands began moving, but before she knew it they had lifted the rope ladder and flung it down, and then her feet betrayed her and she began descending. She looked at them, half expecting to be killed or eaten. In this dream-like state she almost didn¡¯t care anymore.


    The boy with the cut ear pointed again north. Into the jungle. Jack started that way and they followed her.


    ____


    The boys knew how to roast a pig as good as any white man Jack had ever seen. The fire had not been going when they reached their campsite, but there was a pit already prepared, with kindling ready to go. The boy who had cut his ear used a bow-drill to start the fire, while the other two tossed punk onto it and blew into it. The pig squealed as the boys held it down, and the words they chanted chilled Jack to the bone for some reason. They cut its throat cleanly and swiftly, and as it fell dying in gouts of blood the boys danced around it and sang up to the alien moon, as though this had been done in its honor. After singing some strange song, they tied the pig¡¯s legs together and rammed the steak through the opening in its neck and out its backside quicker than any men she¡¯d seen do it.


    They gave her water and some bread while she waited. The bread had dried fruits and herbs baked it, which made her think this wasn¡¯t theirs. She didn¡¯t think the Caribee even knew how to make bread. So they stole this. Probably stole the pig, too.


    It did not matter. The Hunger did not care where any of it came from, the Hunger was an absolute authority and took what was needed, and she ate what they gave her, slowly, until the pig was deemed ready and slices were cut off and passed around. One of the boys had a leather satchel that held various supplies, and he passed around wooden bowls.


    Their three sets of eyes glittered in flickering firelight as they stared and watched her eat. She ate ravenously, occasionally glancing at the painted symbols on the boys¡¯ arms and faces. They watched her the same way she watched them, like they were creatures spat up from the Long Night, alien, perhaps monsters.


    One of them came near and slowly reached out to touch her hair. Jack became scared and jumped away. They looked old enough to do evil things. Plenty old enough. But the boy held up his hands as if to placate her. Then the boy who had cut his ear stood up and hissed at the other, argued with him, and gesticulated strangely with his hands. Chastened, the boy that had approached her sat back down.


    And now they continued watching her.


    Jack thought about running, but the Hunger controlled her now and she move tentatively back to her spot by the fire and continued eating.


    They watched her all night. They watched her until she huddled near a tree and drew her knees to her chest and hugged her knees and fell asleep watching the fire.


    ____


    She awoke to music. And pain. Not agony, but just a cramp in her stomach. She might have eaten too much. But when she looked around she became frightened for many naked men and women were frolicking around her, all carrying spears and clubs, shouting and ululating. The three boys were knelt by the fire. They each held statues in their hands. Each statue was the size of their heads and appeared to be carved out of stone. They held them up high over the fire. The statues were terrifying faces of men with their tongues hanging out and with jagged teeth.


    Jack tried to stand, but she was a little weak. The Hunger had not quite abated, the food had not had time to fully energize her body, and her stomach was getting used to the process again. She wobbled, and fell to her knees. She stood up again and started to walk away from the fire.


    Then she heard screaming, and felt a hot wind. That wind stunk like dead fish. The wind came from behind her and rattled the trees. The leaves and grass shivered and that stench grew. When Jack looked back, she nearly screamed. Something had come crawling out of the jungle, something on the far side of the firepit. It was big. Trees split and fell like weeds as it came trudging up to the firepit, up to the three boys. Jack saw only its face, a terrifying visage with many eyes and many mouths, and yet none of the Caribee fled. Indeed, they dropped to their knees in rapture and swayed like how her father told her seaweed did in a gentle current.


    The Monster approached one boy, and held out a long, tenebrous, stalk-like arm, its three fingers pointy like a spider¡¯s. The hand hung above the boy¡¯s head, and the tribespeople all went quiet with anticipation. Jack stopped running, stunned, apparently dreaming. Then that huge hand plucked the boy off the ground, broke him in half, and emptied his innards into its many chittering mouths.


    Jack didn¡¯t scream. She couldn¡¯t scream. But a small gasp might have escaped, because some of the tribespeople turned towards her. She dashed into the night, in the direction she hoped was home.


    ____


    That night she did not return to the treehouse. Instead she slept in Port Royal, in the alley behind Mr. Cowert¡¯s shop. The pistol was in her hands. She woke up sometimes thinking it had been a dream. She gazed up at the alien stars and the alien moon and she realized it was just as likely that he previous life had been a dream, that her father had never been a sailor and had never died at sea, and that her mother had simply never been her mother at all.


    She looked at an ant crawling along her arm. Maybe she was that ant, and only dreaming that she had been Jacqueline Weekes. Jack. Whoever. She heard gunfire, and someone screamed. Three or four militiamen ran down her alley to see about it. They ran right past her, one of them even stepped on her hand. None of them saw, or if they did they didn¡¯t care.


    Two men were getting drunk somewhere nearby and singing chanties. They called out to a woman, a whore, and Jack heard them flirting with her. She gave a yelp and a giggle and then they made the most awful sounds.


    She fell asleep.


    A dog woke her up by licking up water from a puddle nearby. It was one of the dogs that had followed her a few days ago. And soon his friends joined him and they all curled up near her.


    There was another shot fired somewhere else in Royal.

 Chapter 33: Old Charley

    beat to quarters ¨C To summon a crew of a sailing man o¡¯ war to their stations for battle.


    tide over ¨C To make a small amount of food and supplies last. When there is no wind to fill the sails, the ship is ¡°becalmed,¡± and sailors must float with the tide. They are said to ¡°tide themselves over."


    ANY MAN COULD SEE these waters were unsafe. It wasn¡¯t just that the waters were choppy¡ªthey were, and very¡ªbut there were several Spanish ships floating somewhere in all this vastness, and there had been shots fired and chases given, but either storms or unlucky winds had allowed their quarry to backtrack to safer waters. About the only boon the crew of the Lively had received lately was that the sun had returned, and along with it the proper moon and stars. With the heavens in order¡ªthat was the new phrase seamen were using when things were the way they should be, ¡°the heavens are in order¡±¡ªit became easier to navigate. All the normal charts and rutters became relevant again, distances were not as distorted, and the Leviathans were not as active.


    Ishmael Fuller sat huddled in the ward-room with Captain Vhingfrith and Mr. Dawson, the ship¡¯s pilot. They all surrounded the desk like they meant to attack it. Fuller thought the other two men looked haggard, and imagined he looked very much the same after almost two days without sufficient sleep. As soon as he would pass out in his hammock, he would be roused by men on dog-watches, saying they might have spotted the enemy ship on the horizon, only to have it be a false alarm.


    The captain and the pilot kept checking the charts, then looking at Fuller. He had been the ship¡¯s navigator for over a year now, had almost decided against sailing with the Devil¡¯s Son again, but things had gotten strange in Port Royal recently and events demanded he find more work, and soon.


    Fuller had family back in England that expected some of his wages sent home, to help pay the barristers representing his son, Job, who was in trouble with the law again for theft and deceit. Following in his old man¡¯s footsteps. Much of Fuller¡¯s body had started to fail him in recent years, gout was in his joints and his hip hurt at all hours, but at least his mind had not yet gone to fog, and his eyes were sharp enough to read the heavens and seas. Sharp enough that he was still highly valued at sea, despite not being able to do much other work.


    ¡°Well, Mr. Fuller, your thoughts?¡± said Vhingfrith as he sipped wine.


    Fuller looked the captain in his cat¡¯s-eye. It always made him feel just a little bit uncomfortable, feeling as if the cat¡¯s-eye allowed him to pierce the flesh as well as it did the night. Some in Port Royal said it did. Some on this ship said it had.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain the cays we passed yesterday were these here,¡± Fuller said, sliding his magnifying glass over to a part of the chart where some cartographer had sketched in the details of the island chain twenty years ago or more. ¡°See that teardrop-shaped one there¡­that¡¯s the one that was to starboard. And this triangular one? That was to port. I sighted the stars last night through the sextant, and I¡¯m certain of their distance to the horizon. And our last check of the seafloor shows very little loose shale. We are right here,¡± he said, tapping his finger in an empty patch of sea. ¡°Since the heavens are now in order, we can safely assume the winds were no different for our quarry than they were for us.¡±


    ¡°But when last Conroy spotted them from the nest, they were heading two points off our starboard bow,¡± said Dawson, scratching at the beard he¡¯d been growing these last months.


    ¡°Aye, and if I¡¯m not mistaken, I saw the glint of an anchor through the spyglass, just before they passed over the horizon. I believe they used the same club-hauling trick as last time, and rode the winds nor¡¯nor¡¯east, to here.¡± Fuller moved his finger along the open water. ¡°Know why, Captain?¡±


    Vhingfrith smirked. ¡°I¡¯ve a guess.¡±


    ¡°Then will you two gents clue me in?¡± asked Dawson testily. ¡°I mislike your games o¡¯ secrecy.¡± Lack of sleep and a near constant attendance of the steering had made him ornery.


    ¡°We lost them at night,¡± the captain said, smiling and clapping the pilot on his shoulder. ¡°And with the sun¡¯s return, they could reasonably expect the sea to cool. And we all felt that warm, moist wind rolling in when they disappeared. No doubt the Le¨®n Coronado¡¯s captain noted it, too.¡±


    Dawson winced in consternation. To Fuller, it looked like the answer was slowly dawning on him. ¡°The fog we saw?¡±


    Fuller nodded. ¡°That¡¯s my guess.¡± This morning they had seen, at the very limits of the spyglass¡¯s reached, a cloudy line drawn thinly across the horizon, distorting everything. There were phenomena that could cause such mirages, but both Fuller and Vhingfrith had agreed it was likely no mirage at all. ¡°They went straight into that fog.¡±


    ¡°But that would lead them straight back into English waters. Into Captain Rogers¡¯s ship.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Vhingfrith said. ¡°Which means, if Mr. Fuller is correct, we must¡¯ve hit them harder than even we believed. Perhaps they were taking on water, and feared being in irons if the wind turned against them. Their captain predicted the fog, which is common this time of year, and he sailed that way when it became dark, hoping we would keep chasing along her last known course. So then, they club-hauled themselves and spun along a different trajectory. Or tried. They were at the mercy of the wind.¡± The captain tapped his chin, thinking.


    Dawson sighed and pushed himself away from the desk. ¡°Shall I bring her about, set a course?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I should think so,¡± Vhingfrith said. ¡°And beat to quarters. Let¡¯s have Serjeant McCullough and his marines ready for boarding action, should we get lucky. And an extra ration of rum for the man that spies the Coronado first. Tell them I¡¯m proud of them so far and¡ªwhat¡¯s funny?¡±


    Fuller was laughing.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to know, too,¡± said Dawson.


    ¡°Hear this man! Months ago he was despised by almost every man up on that deck.¡± He gestured upwards. ¡°And he despised them just as much. Oh, no, don¡¯t go denying it, Captain! We all know it¡¯s true. Just like we also know something dearly has changed. Where that change stems from, and how long it¡¯ll stay that way, I don¡¯t know. But it¡¯s a good change, and I¡¯m glad to say most of the men see it that way, too.¡± He shrugged. ¡°They love you. Hero of Port Royal!¡±


    Vhingfrith shrugged on his coat and pulled on his tricorne. ¡°I¡¯m at least glad to have surprised you, Mr. Fuller,¡± he said. ¡°You have all surprised me, as well. Half the men on this vessel will never be allowed to set foot in England as free men ever again, yet you all fight for her as I do. You see her relevance. Her importance to the world.¡± He nodded approvingly. ¡°How happy that the Lively can serve England so richly, and has sons such as you to defend her.¡±


    Fuller glanced over to Dawson, and they shared a look. He doesn¡¯t understand, Fuller thought. He is such a strangely na?ve man¡ªclever, yet na?ve. They don¡¯t fight for England. The men of the Lively fight because he helped bring down a Spanish nao during the first days of the Cataclysm, and because, after the Cataclysm, when all of Port Royal almost burned, he and Woodes Rogers rallied the people of Royal and fought off two invasions by the Spaniards, who sought to take control of Royal after the monsters tried to end it all.


    The men don¡¯t care about England. They care only about glory and treasure. But let you dream, Captain Vhingfrith. Just let you dream of a world that fits more suitably to your estimation of honour and righteousness.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad we¡¯re decided on a course,¡± said Dawson. ¡°Makes me feel a lot better.¡±


    ¡°Aye, me too,¡± said Fuller. ¡° ¡¯Specially with these seas filling up. We¡¯ll need that eye o¡¯ yours, Cap¡¯n, make sure we don¡¯t fall afoul of the Villain or his like.¡±


    ¡°No fear of that, Mr. Fuller,¡± said Vhingfrith. ¡°He¡¯s never been known to plunder out here.¡±


    ¡°The Villain?¡±said Dawson, gaping at them both. ¡°He¡¯s out here?¡±


    Fuller sighed and shrugged. ¡°The people we met back in that fishing village on Cat Island, they said they¡¯d heard from a sloop¡¯s captain that anchored there that Oddsummers was floatin¡¯ around out here somewhere, that he had some crew with plague helping him raid small ships.¡±


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t heard that.¡± Dawson suddenly looked troubled.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t worry, Mr. Dawson, it¡¯s only a rumour,¡± said Vhingfrith. ¡°If the Villain is indeed out here it must mean that he¡¯s desperate, and fleeing. He¡¯s cheated death enough times, the ground is now shrinking beneath his feet. I shouldn¡¯t think he would risk popping his head up to interfere with us, not with the Duke on our side.¡± The Devil¡¯s Son headed for the door. ¡°Now, come along, Mr. Dawson. Let¡¯s you and I see about setting that course. Mr. Fuller, I leave you my rutters, which Captain Morgan thoroughly annotated to include ocean currents in the area. I hope you¡¯ll be able to use those to more accurately deduce the Coronado¡¯s precise position.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain. I¡¯ll do my best.¡±


    Vhingfrith left through the door.


    Alone inside the ward-room, Fuller got to work. He was momentarily distracted when a spray of seawater came in through the open window. He turned, just in time to see the large tail of a Leviathan whipping up out of the water and splashing back down into the sea.


    Captain Vhingfrith popped his head back in. ¡°Oh, and Fuller?¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°If you find the time, put the inkbottle to use, and sketch out the scars on the back of that Leviathan.¡±


    Fuller shrugged. ¡°Of course, sir. But¡­why, may I ask?¡±


    ¡°I want to know if it¡¯s still Charley chasing us, or a different creature altogether.¡±


    ____


    The Leviathan had been following them for eight days, and it could do at least eleven knots, about the same as Lively when she was running. Vhingfrith had been keeping assiduous notes on the beast. He had been the first to spot it during the Long Night, his cat¡¯s-eye catching the undulating black form out on the black waters. He had assumed it was a pod of whales, until it had gotten closer. Then he assigned two men to the crow¡¯s nest, one to watch for the Le¨®n Coronado and the other to monitor the Leviathan. What they had discovered was every splash was a separate limb extending from a single, great, terrifying monstrosity. And so far it had not attacked them, only followed them. No man had ever seen its like before, and it was therefore generally considered to be a creature spilled from the firmament.


    Vhingfrith presently stood at the quarterdeck beside Dawson, looking up at the Captain of the Mizzentop, Khol Landry, who kept the spyglass fastened to his face. Vhingfrith allowed his eyes to move along the flapping sails. Each sail was pulled about a quarter of the way in, putting them at close reach. Landry shouted to them to let the mainsail three-quarters out.


    When it was done, the Lively suddenly surged eagerly.


    That puts us at broad reach, thought Vhingfrith. Now let¡¯s see if our friend¡­ah, and so he follows.


    The Leviathan was already adjusting its path, splashing and rolling in the water in the way that it did, almost like some composite of whale and squid, to change course suddenly. Vhingfrith walked to the railing and leaned on it. He checked his timepiece. Mr. Fuller had come and made noon, so he had been able to reset his clock to match that of the ¡°true time¡± of heavenly-order.


    True time. Heavenly-order. Are these new nautical terms to be a permanent fixture in a seaman¡¯s lexicon? He asked the question of the waves, of the sky, of his father¡¯s portrait inside the timepiece, but he knew the answer.


    The Leviathan was twice again as large as the Lively, which herself was one hundred sixty-five feet long, putting the beast at around three hundred thirty feet. The creature distorted and frothed the waves when it altered course, and sometimes it would thrash violently like it was being attacked by some invisible foe, and in those times Lively would heel. The men had been afraid those first few days when Mr. Hewett sighted the creature barreling towards them from the east, but so far it seemed to have brought good luck, even going so far as to attack the Coronado when she fired upon the Lively.


    Do we have a guardian angel now? Is that a new bargain God made with the minions of Hell when he allowed the planet to pass through the firmament, that England shall have a Protector at sea? Vhingfrith was out of theories on the matter. He had spent those first weeks in Port Royal trying to understand it all, but now it only presented a new facet of this ongoing war, one more kernel to consider when making plans.


    ¡°Old Charley¡¯s keepin¡¯ pace, Cap¡¯n,¡± said Dawson.


    ¡°Indeed, he is, Mr. Dawson.¡±


    Both of them shared a special fascination for Old Charley, and at times they personified him as a babe, or a foal recently birthed into sea with limbs he had not quite learned how to use yet. They even assumed him to be a male, when in actual fact the Leviathan could be female, or both, or neither.


    The creature itself was described in Vhingfrith¡¯s notes, where he scribbled even the minutest detail:


    Charley has about him that quality of a shark¡¯s skin, slick and grey.


    Fins along his length, each one-half to three-quarters the size of Lively¡¯s mizzenmast.


    Four (possibly six) spherical protuberances along his middle (possibly eyes?)


    Distended portion near his tail, like a potbelly, red at times, jade at others.


    A hammer-shaped prominence where his head ought to be, were he a fish, yet no mouth.


    Moves with labourious grace, sometimes thrashing, almost as if he is fighting against the water, trying to break free of it.


    It has a mind, I am sure. Twice now I have stood at the bow during a Long Night and gestured to it, and the Leviathan has paused¡ªI have never seen a sea creature able to simply pause in mid-swim, with no forward sloshing of momentum¡ªand it turns on its side, pitching and rolling, until I stop waving. Because of my cat¡¯s-eye, I am the only one to have seen this. I hope this behaviour indicates Old Charley is friendly.


    Presently, Vhingfrith had his journal propped on the binnacle, leafing through the pages with one hand, pen in the other hand. He was looking for any new markings or scars to add to his sketches. He noted Charley¡¯s mossy underbelly, and walked the length of the ship as the Leviathan did long, slow laps around them. Charley beat the water with his fins, sending out huge, arcing sprays. Such savage swimming, like he¡¯s fighting it. Yet there is grace to his form¡ª


    ¡°Your tea, Captain,¡± a voice said at his side.


    Vhingfrith stirred. ¡°Thank you, Mr. Maxwell.¡± He put his pen in his journal as a bookmark and accepted the cup and saucer. Maxwell had returned to Lively on the condition of a promotion. Seeing as how they were all now flying the Union Jack again, and with Royal Marines aboard, Maxwell wanted to be all official¡ªa ship¡¯s steward.


    After the Cataclsym, Vhingfrith had been approached by Maxwell at The Dashing Inn, and had kept his emotions in check at the time, but was secretly glad to have so many former crewmen returning voluntarily. Maxwell¡¯s cooking was usually a little spicy, yet always plentiful and never overcooked, and the men loved him. And, as it happened, it was Maxwell that gave Old Charley his name, and Vhingfrith was now curious as to why. ¡°Tell me, why Charley?¡±


    Maxwell winced. ¡°Sir?¡±


    Vhingfrith nodded. ¡°Our friend out there.¡±


    The ship¡¯s steward looked out at the labouring beast, still fighting the waves. ¡°From the song, sir. ¡®O Charley, Fighting the Deep.¡¯ ¡±


    Vhingfrith brightened. Of course, how could he have been so stupid? ¡°Our boy does seem to never be at peace with the waters, isn¡¯t that right?¡±


    ¡°Seems to straight despise the briny deep, I¡¯d say, sir. Even whales go for deep dives. Stays well out of the deep, that one does. A wonder he doesn¡¯t fly up out of it. I wonder if he will, if he ever finds shore. Will he come crawling out of the briny?¡±


    ¡°Well, I wonder what he makes of us.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps he¡¯s wondering if he can fetch a ride with us,¡± Maxwell chortled, and walked away.


    Vhingfrith laughed to himself, sipping his tea. He called out to the cook, ¡°Mr. Maxwell? Let¡¯s have a meal at eight bells. What do you say? Is that possible?¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir. I¡¯ll have Mr. Corswaine heat the stove and wake me at seven.¡±


    ¡°Excellent, Maxwell, just excellent.¡±


    Vhingfrith watched the ship¡¯s steward dip below, then looked about his ship and saw the many working parts moving, saw the water breaking before Lively like she was a knife. A few marines were up in the sails, having a chinwag with the reefers. It almost seemed like a dream. Vhingfrith did not know what to do with a ship so full of men all cooperating and with a single mind towards a goal. No more enervating arguments with men who held grudges at obeying a half-Negro captain. Or so it seemed.


    Be wary of all of them, he could hear his father say. The voice came on the wind. And yet Benjamin thought, It isn¡¯t all of them, Father. It cannot be. Things could not be going so well if it were all of them.


    He set the tea on the railing, reopened his journal, and started to sketch when Old Charley suddenly breached the surface hard, exposing several man-sized tendrils that had ensnared four sharks and was squeezing them bloody. My God. He heard other men on the ship cry out in surprise, and Vhingfrith got to sketching furiously, watching as Charley plunged back into the water and thrashed about angrily, then began his slow, slow circuit around the brig. Almost like a patrol around the ship. The water all around them was red with blood.


    He added to his notes,


    Ship¡¯s Steward Roderic Maxwell made an excellent joke. He suggests Charley is trying to fetch¡­


    ¡°A ride,¡± he said aloud, lifting his pen from the page.


    Vhingfrith lifted his tea from the rail just in time before the ripples from Charley¡¯s play hit Lively, and made her sway. Fetch a ride, he thought, watching the Leviathan¡¯s four (or six?) protrusions roll out of the water and aim (gaze?) in their direction.


    He seems to be fighting with the water. Does¡­does he wonder how we¡¯re doing it? Is that why we fascinate him? Does Charley not understand how we¡¯ve mastered these waters? Does he not have water where he comes from? If not, through what medium did Charley swim through before he came here? Where does he come from?


    Having thought himself quite beyond theories, Benjamin Vhingfrith suddenly found himself fascinated by these new questions.


    Why did he help us, in our first fight with Coronado? Why did he pick sides? Is it because we were the first of our kind he found out here? Are we his favourites, like lost kittens discovered in the rain? Are we under his protection?


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°Fog ahead, sir,¡± said Osterholm, walking up. Of all the people to return to his crew, perhaps none surprised him more than his quartermaster. Osterholm had been a questionable part of the mutiny months ago¡ªthough, he claimed to have only been neutral, and said he¡¯d never sided with Jacobson completely. Still, as soon as he was released from custody and gotten his part of the Nuestra¡¯s treasure, he had walked Port Royal alone and not spoken a word to Vhingfrith ever since. But, like many, the Jew had been changed after the Cataclysm, after all those Beasts invaded Port Royal. Perhaps he sought safety with a familiar crew? ¡°You¡¯re certain she¡¯s in there, Captain?¡±


    Vhingfrith looked past the bow. ¡°Yes, indeed, Mr. Osterholm.¡±


    ¡°Maybe Coronado was only pulling a feint when she tacked¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do you doubt Mr. Fuller¡¯s seamanship? Or mine?¡±


    The Jew sighed and ran a hand over the old axe wound on his face. ¡°Reckon not, sir.¡±


    Vhingfrith clapped him on the shoulder. ¡°Worry not, old friend. We¡¯ve got Lively on our side, and the Duke is our guardian angel.¡± He nodded to the dot on the horizon behind them. The Duke was currently captained by Woodes Rogers¡ªa great warship and a true captain of the seas. Lively was acting as her scout, moving fast and nimbly through the sea to harass the Coronado, possibly wound her before the Duke could roll in and finish the job. That was the strategy Vhingfrith and Rogers had come up with. ¡°We nearly nabbed Coronado in that first go-around and she¡¯s been winged. If I was her captain, I would¡¯ve tacked this way to find safety in the concealment of fog.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir. As you say.¡± Osterholm gave a look at Old Charley, now swimming around to their stern, plunging hard into the water and vanishing for a moment before rising again to their starboard and thrashing about. Seawater sprayed all over the ship. Osterholm glanced surreptitiously back at Vhingfrith.


    But Benjamin caught the look. There¡¯s still doubt in him. He still wonders if I¡¯m bad luck, if I somehow caused these Long Nights, if I summoned Charley and all his ilk. Benjamin never forgot John¡¯s warning, which underscored his father¡¯s warning about these men. But Osterholm was a good ship¡¯s purser, invaluable at sea. Osterholm at last turned and went belowdecks to attend duties.


    Dense fog seemed to form a wall, cutting off the world ahead. Soon it began to congeal around them. Vhingfrith decided it was time to pull Serjeant McCulloch to one side and lay the planning for any boarding actions done in fog. And then he would need to speak to his navigator again. For soon, the light of day would dim behind a caul of fog, and if another Long Night fell the crew would be relying on naught but his seamanship and Mr. Fuller¡¯s.


    ____


    These charts are damp, Fuller thought. Someone¡¯s spilt rum all over them. He gave them a sniff. Smelled like wine, which meant it had happened when the Devil¡¯s Son had been in here toiling late at night, unwilling to wait till morning to confer with his navigator. Sighing, Fuller strained his eyes to differentiate between true islands and dark stains.


    Wafting up from the companionway, the singing of a contented and excited crew. Infernal racket. Fuller did not like the men singing, not while they were still searching for the Coronado. If they got unlucky, they could pass right by the Spaniards in the foggy night, and their singing could give them away.


    Apparently, Vhingfrith thought the same thing, because now Fuller could hear the captain lightly scolding some of the men in the galley.


    Infernal noise, at any rate. Hardly one of them can carry a tune, and not one bloody fiddle among them. What sort of crew forgets to bring a fiddle on board?


    By his feet, Micky, the ship¡¯s cat, scurried after a mouse.


    Fuller fumed, straining his eyes and senses by candlelight. The rutters were open beside him, as was the calendar and the sextant and the divider and every other device or paper he would need to calculate the course of the Le¨®n Coronado. It was possible to predict an enemy¡¯s movements, even if they had not been spotted in more than a day, for the same winds and the same ocean currents that drove the Lively would also have driven the Coronado. Fuller had to look at all the notes he had made these last two days and cross-reference them with his own knowledge of the sea, as well as the recordings of other captains that had been in this area this time of year. He must consider the Coronado¡¯s size, estimate her weight, her draught, compare it to the islands in the area, the underwater seamounts, the¡ª


    ¡°As much an art as it is a science,¡± said Vhingfrith, entering the room with two mugs. ¡°Don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Fuller sighed, and removed his spectacles to let his eyes relax. He blinked and rubbed them. ¡°And a bit of guesswork, aye, sir.¡±


    Vhingfrith handed Fuller one of the mugs. Sweet rum from the most recent resupply in Port Royal. Good rum clears cobwebs, his mentor once told him.


    ¡°Now, Fuller, give yourself more credit. It¡¯s more than guesswork. Do you have a fix? Whereabouts are we?¡±


    ¡°Here, sir.¡± Fuller ran a finger along an imaginary line. ¡°But we¡¯re still running, and with this fog I¡¯d suggest reeling in some sail. Slow down and reliably drift southwards, let the current take us half a day¡ªto about here¡ªthen open all sails and tack northward.¡±


    Vhingfrith always liked to see the particulars, so it wasn¡¯t a surprise when he said, ¡°Show me.¡±


    Fuller walked him through it, not skipping any steps, advising on the timing of each push, and letting the captain know when he was only using intuition. ¡°I believe Coronado is somewhere out here,¡± he said, pointing to another patch of open water. ¡°She¡¯s damn close, sir, I can feel it. Currents may have been thrown off a bit following the Long Night, but it seems like just all the other times. The seas and the stars go right back to their proper order.¡±


    ¡°Then we follow our plan, and never stray from tried-and-true tactics while the heavens are in order.¡±


    They had agreed on that much from the start. With the heavens now in order, and having been that way for two days now, they expected a return to normalcy, as had happened each time a Long Night ended. And here in the Northern Hemisphere, predictable winds blew from east to west, just above the equator. They were so reliable and essential for commerce that they were known as trade winds. Those winds dragged along the ocean¡¯s surface, pushing the water to create predictable currents. Those currents reliably bent northward. However, at about thirty degrees north latitude, a different set of winds, called the westerlies, pushed the currents back east, creating an endless clockwise loop. Barring any storms, this loop made sailing easier for merchants and warships alike, but it also made them a slave to the cogs in Nature¡¯s great machine. Any ship attempting to break free of this loop, therefore, would have to commit to a series of arduous, and predictable, maneuvers.


    But oceans are big places, and currents are not as narrow as any town road. Currents can be dozens of miles wide, which means any ship along them can be just over the horizon from one another and neither ship would ever even know the other was passing by.


    Especially in a fog. At night.


    But the Lively had an advantage no one else did, and few even knew about. Fuller looked at that advantage now¡ªthe cat¡¯s-eye. The Devil¡¯s Son possessed a power few knew Spaniards knew about, and those who did typically thought it merely superstition. But Fuller had seen it at work. Captain Vhingfrith could see preternaturally well in the dark, and it was he that spied the Coronado that first night.


    And the cat¡¯s-eye will allow us to sail through darkness, without having to light candles or torches, making our quarry visible to us, and rendering us invisible to them.


    The ship pitched side to side suddenly, and a few books fell off the captain¡¯s shelves. Fuller caught a rutter and divider before they fell off the desk. ¡°Old Charley must be having one of his fits,¡± he said.


    ¡°No doubt,¡± said Vhingfrith, almost disinterestedly. Fuller had noticed Vhingfrith¡¯s fascination with the Leviathan, had even snuck a peek at the captain¡¯s notes and drawings on it, but he had also noticed how the captain seemed to barely give the Leviathan any thought when he wasn¡¯t topside and actively looking at it. Fuller realized, belatedly, that part of Vhingfrith¡¯s strength, and part of what had kept him from suffering mutiny all these years, was his ability to look unflappable even when the world was going topsy-turvy. Fuller¡¯s respect grew for the man each day, as well as his pity.


    If only he¡¯d never joined his cause to the Ladyman at times, who knows where he would be now? Fuller thought, watching the cat¡¯s-eye glitter in haunting moonlight as it scanned the charts. How long did his reputation suffer unfairly? How much did his relationship with the Ladyman stunt his growth?


    ¡°I¡¯ll have the maintop signal the Duke, let them know which course we intend to take.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    ¡°I admire your diligence and skill, Mr. Fuller,¡± said Vhingfrith. ¡°And I agree with your assessment. I took a sighting with the sextant not an hour before the fog completely cloaked the stars, and I sighted a cay I believe to be this one here,¡± he pointed. ¡°I think you¡¯re right. We cut sail half a day, then open her up again and see what¡¯s what. If this fog lingers¡ª¡±


    He stopped talking when the ship pitched again, this time a bit more heavily.


    ¡°If this fog lingers,¡± he continued, ¡°then it¡¯s a boon for Coronado and her crew. But if God alleviates this burden from us, I imagine we will sight them¡­here. Along the main stretch to¡ªwhat the devil is going on up there?¡±


    Another heeling, this one much harder than the last two. Almost every book fell from its shelf and the boards all moaned like the whole ship was being squeezed by a giant¡¯s fist. And then they heard a single, sharp crack, like a musket shot.


    ¡°What in Creation is¡ª?¡±


    A moment later, the door flung open and Averill, the first mate, exclaimed, ¡°Captain! We need your cat¡¯s-eye up top, sir!¡±


    ¡°What the bloody hell¡¯s going on, Mr. Averill?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Charley, sir, something¡¯s wrong with him! He¡¯s splashin¡¯ almost side by side with the keel, and slappin¡¯ them fins o¡¯ his against our transom! He¡¯s in a bloody fit, sir, and one man¡¯s already fallen into the water!¡±


    ¡°What was that shot I just heard?¡±


    ¡°Malloy took a shot at Charley, sir¡ª¡±


    ¡°He did what?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be mad at him, sir, please! One o¡¯ Charley¡¯s tentacles nearly took off his head¡ªsir?¡±


    Fuller watched as Vhingfrith leapt over the desk and pushed Averill aside and dashed out into the companionway.


    ____


    ¡°Malloy! Stand fast, there!¡± Benjamin boomed as he came upon the deck, which was soaked with water running into the scuppers. By the time he¡¯d reached the top of the stairs, Old Charley had begun thrashing like never before, and it was as though a storm had come upon them. Through the fog he saw many scared faces lit by lanterns, and panicking men aiming their pistols at the Leviathan. ¡°Stand fast there, I say! Master-at-arms?¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡± said Steilar, the young Oxfordshire boy stepping forward from his place by the forward hatch.


    Benjamin ran to the ship¡¯s waist and pointed at Malloy. ¡°Clap this man in irons! And give him only half rations until I say otherwise! And no rum!¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    ¡°And that goes for any other man who fires on this creature without my order!¡±


    ¡°But, sir,¡± someone cried from up in the ratlines. ¡°Lookit! Just lookit! Charley¡¯s gone mad!¡±


    Indeed, he could not argue that the beast had churned up a storm without clouds, for the sea beat angrily at them and Lively heeled as water ran shin deep across her deck before shedding. Vhingfrith closed his right eye, and ran to the portside railing and focused his cat¡¯s-eye on Charley, just as the monster was rolling back into the deep, his oblong tail thrashing at air and parts of it slapping at the railing so hard it caused part of it to splinter. God¡¯s wrath, what¡¯s gotten into him? Was he only sizing us up, toying with his meal before he ate it?


    ¡°What do you see, Captain?¡± someone else shouted.


    They meant what did the Devil¡¯s Son see with his cat¡¯s-eye.


    Vhingfrith held fast to the rail as Lively heeled and squeezed through the next row of waves like an angry newborn fighting to break free of the birth canal. Cold foaming waters soaked him almost to the waist and spilled over as she corrected. And then Charley leapt out of the water and bellyflopped back into it, sending out salty rain before plunging into the depths.


    For a long while, nobody saw anything.


    ¡°Crow¡¯s nest! Anything?¡± Vhingfrith called.


    ¡°Nothing, sir! No sighting!¡±


    Vhingfrith ran around the ship, from one rail to the other, leaning over, searching the fog. And he saw something. Something spinning in the water, almost beyond his sight. He was sure no one else saw it. No one else could. Whatever it was, it was about fifty yards off their port, and refracted what little moonlight penetrated the fog. And he saw something floating amid strange debris. Something flailing. ¡°To the gunnels! Grab some lines!¡± he called. ¡°Men overboard!¡±


    Lively¡¯s men leapt to obey.


    Benjamin ordered half-sail immediately, and had Dawson bring her about. The crew got to work with the sheets and lines, and nobody second-guessed the captain. They knew he¡¯d seen something with that eye of his.


    ¡°Signal the Duke,¡± Vhingfrith said, as he paced the quarterdeck. ¡°Let them know we¡¯re changing course. Give the signal for lost souls.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir,¡± said Averill. ¡°Signal! Signal!¡± The first mate made sure the cry went up to the crow¡¯s nest and three lanterns were lit, hopefully bright enough to be seen through the mist.


    And when they came alongside the scene, Charley was there, swimming tamely for a change, amid a ghostly revelation. It was evident the broken planks had once belonged to a sailing vessel, but it was impossible to tell how large a one. Charley orbited them, gently, disturbing the waters only just noticeably, so that the two men clinging to the single barrel bobbed up and down like a child¡¯s toy in a tub. Vhingfrith shouted for lines to be thrown out, while Bartlett, the second mate, and three other men climbed down the rope ladder to extend their hands.


    Half-naked and wretched, the two castaways stood on the deck and collapsed as though they¡¯d forgotten how to use their legs. Vhingfrith helped one of them to his feet, a black-bearded fellow with red, cracked lips, who pushed himself away from his fellow castaway, almost like he couldn¡¯t wait to get away from him.


    ¡°Hold on, brother, we¡¯ve got you,¡± said Vhingfrith. ¡°Easy there, easy. Someone bring them some blankets! Mr. Maxwell, bring these men some water!¡±


    The bearded man looked surprised to see a Negro captain, but then whispered, ¡°Bless you¡­bless you¡­¡± He clutched the captain¡¯s lapel. ¡°Bless you, bless you, bless you!¡±


    Water was brought out at once, but Scarecrow reminded the captain that dehydrated men should not drink too much. ¡°It¡¯ll only make them sick, sir,¡± said the surgeon. And, indeed, after only a few gulps, the other castaway, a blond-haired boy with a large birth mark covering the right side of his face, vomited most of the water back up.


    ¡°Thank you, God! Thank you!¡± wept the other fellow, a carpenter who introduced himself as Henley. ¡°Bless you, boys! Bless you for this! Oh God, I thought we were meant for Davy Jones¡¯s locker for sure, along with the rest of ¡¯em!¡±


    ¡°Rest of who?¡± asked Benjamin.


    Men crowded around like gawking children: ¡°How did your ship founder?!¡± and ¡°Was it the Coronado?!¡± and ¡°Was it the Leviathans?!¡± and ¡°Who was your captain?!¡±


    ¡°Step back, everyone! Step back!¡± Vhingfrith ordered. ¡°Let Scarecrow be about his ministrations. Mr. Averill, signal the Duke again, let them know we found two lost souls and that we¡¯re getting back underway. Mr. Dawson, to the helm. Mr. Fuller, help him sight the waters. Linemen, toss out your ropes. I want to know what sort of seabed is underneath us, we don¡¯t want to crash into whatever these poor men did that made them founder.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir!¡± they all replied.


    Vhingfrith stood over the younger castaway. The young man was sitting on a barrel, shaking and weeping, a cup of water in his hands. He looked out at the water and saw something that visibly frightened him. Vhingfrith followed his gaze, and saw Charley up to his antics again, this time farther out.


    ____


    The story of how the Alexandria sank was as harrowing as anything Benjamin had ever heard, though, as it turned out, it had nothing to do with either Spaniards or Leviathans or shallow waters, and everything to do with a storm. A storm that, according to Henley, set itself on them four days prior. They¡¯d been floating on six different barrels as five of them slowly became filled with water and sank. They¡¯d been taking turns clinging to the last one, and become so thirsty they drank seawater and made it worse for themselves.


    There were terrible sores on their hands, blisters all over, which Scarecrow treated with a vinegar and olive oil salve.


    Henley told the entire story himself, for so far the boy¡ªwho Henley said was a cabin boy named Swanson¡ªhad yet to say a word, and stared vacantly at all the faces assembled around him.


    Henley began to tell his story while on the main deck, but when one of the Lively¡¯s crewmen hollered, ¡°There weren¡¯t no storm four days ago, though!¡±, that was when Vhingfrith brought the castaways below, to his cabin, under the guise of an invitation to enjoy real rest in a real bed. But in truth Vhingfrith had ulterior motives. He¡¯d seen the looks on the men¡¯s faces when Henley insisted it had been four days ago, during the Long Night, when the Alexandria sank.


    Presently, Vhingfrith, Averill, Bartlett, Osterholm, Serjeant McCulloch, and Major Halleck stood inside the ward-room, waiting for Scarecrow to exit the captain¡¯s quarters. When the surgeon finally emerged, he said, ¡°They¡¯re resting now. But Mr. Henley says he would like to see you about something.¡±


    ¡°What is it, Scarecrow?¡± Vhingfrith asked.


    ¡°He says it has to do with Swanson, who still hasn¡¯t spoken. Seems the boy has a case of the horrors. I did notice the shaking of his hands, the uncontrollable quiver of his lower lip. He occasionally jumps as if someone is sneaking up on him.¡±


    Everyone in the companionway exchanged glances. They had all seen men afflicted with the horrors¡ªmen who survived war often had blank stares, like a doll¡¯s, and their hands were known to tremble uncontrollably. But the boy was too young to have been in any war, and if it had not been the Spanish that sank the Alexandria then what could have horrified him so?


    ¡°What would Henley need to tell me about it?¡± Benjamin said. ¡°I understand the poor lad has suffered. What else is there to know?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s what Henley saw while they were out there alone.¡±


    ¡°What did he see?¡±


    Scarecrow looked disturbed, and waved for the captain to follow him back inside. Benjamin gestured the others to remain in the ward-room. Inside his cabin, Swanson slept fitfully in the captain¡¯s bed, while Henley stood at the captain¡¯s desk, poring over the charts, a blanket over his shoulders and a cup of hot tea in his hands. ¡°Mr. Tyndall says you wish to speak with¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your Mr. Tyndall has informed me that you experienced no storm in the last four days,¡± said Henley. The man had a bushy black beard with shocks of grey, with cracked red lips and at least half his teeth missing, no doubt from scurvy, if his gums were any indication. ¡°Is that so? I heard someone shout it on your deck, that you saw no storm. Is that so?¡±


    Vhingfrith presented himself calmly, but already he knew where this was headed. ¡°It¡¯s true, sir, we experienced no storm. It¡¯s possible it could have been localized to the area you¡ª¡±


    ¡°You could not have missed this storm, Captain. Red lightnin¡¯, clouds coming down like sharpened spears, sometimes touching the waves. And Leviathans¡­Leviathans falling from the sky, like angels cast out of heaven, their wings all a-flame!¡± He spoke almost in a whisper, eyes flitting around the cabin as though to make sure the walls were real. Henley nodded to Swanson. ¡°The boy there¡­he¡¯s¡­¡± He never finished the thought. ¡°When we foundered, all our oil¡­the whale oil¡­it must¡¯ve been a misplaced lantern that caught fire. Explosion like nothing I¡¯ve ever heard. And the Alexandria, she went up like a match.¡±


    Vhingfrith started to say something, but just then the Swanson lad began to snore, and jerked in his sleep. He walked over to look at the boy, and sent out a prayer to God to have pity. ¡°You were whaling? Out here?¡± he said back to Henley.


    ¡°Not at first, sir, no. We were¡­¡± He trailed off again, hands wringing his blanket into knots. And he kept wringing and kept wringing until a piece of it tore and he didn¡¯t notice. ¡°We were merchants. Captain Roth, he got him this nice brig, we sailed her for two years delivering spice and sugar for his business connections in Antigua. He was a good man, his sailing master top-notch, everyone on his crew were solid men. Solid men, indeed, sir. They never wavered, not in any circumstance or dilemma.


    ¡°But then a storm¡ªa different storm, not this one that foundered us¡ªit hit us months ago and we were so off course¡­and then¡­the sun just didn¡¯t return. Not for weeks. We sailed to what we thought was the east, but we found no islands. Captain Roth and his navigator saw no familiar cays for days, and when we finally did come across some, they wasn¡¯t where they was s¡¯pposed to be. Like¡­like someone misplaced them.¡± He laughed and cried. ¡°We were soon starving. We cast our nets but caught no fish, but we did reel in these little monstrosities that¡­well, some men ate them. And those men died shitting blood.¡±


    Henley sobbed and sipped his tea. Vhingfrith offered him a handkerchief.


    Henley accepted it. ¡°We saw whales¡­and we thought, ¡®That don¡¯t make sense now, does it? Huge pod o¡¯ whales in these waters, this time o¡¯ year?¡¯ But we went after ¡¯em anyway. We were so hungry. Most men didn¡¯t know how to hunt whales, but Mr. Clarkson¡ªhe was our quartermaster¡ªhe done a trick with the East India Company¡¯s ship, the Gloria, and so he knew how to throw the spears, how to wear out the whale, keep it from goin¡¯ under.


    ¡°We had whale meat, least for a little while. But all the while, the sun¡­it just wouldn¡¯t come back. And the cays we saw¡­they weren¡¯t where they was s¡¯pposed to be.¡± He sat in the captain¡¯s chair without asking, and Vhingfrith allowed it. Poor soul. He went through an Altered Night. ¡°And then the storm hit. The big one I was tellin¡¯ you about. Like nothin¡¯ you ever saw. But just now I told your surgeon here all about it, and he said what I experienced was a, uh¡­what did you call it, sir?¡±


    Vhingfrith answered, ¡°An Altered Night.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s it. What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°That is what I¡¯ve started calling any experience like the one I and the Hazard¡¯s crew went through when all this started, just before the world experienced the Cataclsym.¡± Vhingfrith pulled up another chair and sat across from Henley. It felt strange being on this side of his own desk. ¡°An Altered Night is a little different than a Long Night. A Long Night is just that, a prolonged darkness when the heavens are out of order and the sun won¡¯t come up. But the seas still make sense in a Long Night. You¡¯ll know you¡¯re in an Altered Night by the way no charts corroborate what you¡¯re seeing at sea, and there seems to be no way out of it except to wait it out. And once it¡¯s over, only a day or so may have passed for everyone outside of it. Long Nights are shared by the whole world, whereas Altered Nights appear to be experienced locally, solely by whatever persons or vessels happen to get trapped in them.¡±


    Henley stared vacantly, then shook his head. ¡°How¡­how is any of this possible?¡±


    ¡°It is the phenomenon known by many names. The Catholics call it the Cataclysm. The Spanish call it La Crisis del Firmamento: the Firmament Crisis. We English simply call it the firmament. Perhaps you heard about it before you set sail? Some parts of the world seem slow to experience it, and I¡¯ve heard of people thinking the rest of us have gone quite mad. Until, that is, they experience it for themselves.¡±


    Henley seemed uncomforted.


    ¡°Myself and my crew recently experienced a Long Night.¡± Benjamin crossed his legs, rested his hands on his knees. ¡°Something is happening, Mr. Henley. A changing of the natural order. No one is sure what¡¯s causing it, apparently it is causing much chaos for all the nations¡¯ leaders, but all men like us can do is adapt, and hope this is all passing event. Hopefully this phenomenon will eventually pass and in years to come we will all look back on these days and shake our heads, and treat it merely as a story to tell our children.¡±


    Henley leaned back in the captain¡¯s chair and gaped at the ceiling. No longer sobbing, he just seemed spent.


    ¡°Mr. Tyndall here says you have something to tell me. Something about Mr. Swanson over there?¡±


    Henley blinked, looking nonplused, like he was just remembering. ¡°Swanson¡­he¡¯s the only real swimmer between us¡ªI can tread water a very little while, but that¡¯s it. Once or twice, we thought we felt our toes touching the seabed. We said, ¡®That ain¡¯t possible!¡¯ So we figured it was sandbars. Thought we¡¯d gotten lucky coming upon something like that. Somethin¡¯ we could stand on, you know? Then we lost the feeling, couldn¡¯t touch the sand nummore. So, Swanson says he¡¯s going to swim down deep, see if he can see anything¡ªhe was getting desperate, hopin¡¯ to find fish to eat, or a turtle to swim with. Poor lad, said he¡¯d once heard a story about a man lost at sea that grabbed hold of a giant turtle and let it carry him home. He was delirious. But I let him go. I hadn¡¯t the strength to stop him. He was gone for an hour.¡±


    Benjamin blinked. ¡°What do you mean? You lost sight of him?¡±


    ¡°No, Captain. He went under the water and he was gone. Gone for a whole hour, maybe longer. But I know how to tell time in my head. Learned how to count. I was countin¡¯ the whole time he was gone, just to have somethin¡¯ to do. And when Swanson came back up, his birthmark was on the wrong side of his face.¡±


    Vhingfrith looked over at Scarecrow. The surgeon shrugged back. ¡°You¡¯ll have to explain that riddle, Mr. Henley.¡±


    ¡°No man can stay underwater for that long,¡± he said, and sipped his tea. ¡°No man that ain¡¯t secretly a fish. And Henley was gone that whole time and when he came up he looked different. He¡¯s also got a front tooth now that he was missin¡¯ before, and part of his left little finger, which I saw get ripped off by a snagged line, has grown back.¡±


    Vhingfrith shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Glanced over at Swanson. The boy was still sleeping in the captain¡¯s bed.


    ¡°And when he returned to me,¡± Henley went on, ¡°he was just starin¡¯ at me. Just starin¡¯. He wouldn¡¯t speak. At first I thought it was only the horrors, but now I know it¡¯s somethin¡¯ else. A Judas or¡­or¡­¡±


    ¡°Mr. Henley, what are you saying?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to tell you, goddamn it. Whatever this shit is¡ªthe firmament you call it?¡ªit doesn¡¯t just take. I think sometimes¡­sometimes it swallows things, and then sometimes, just sometimes¡­it coughs it back up.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Henley¡ª¡±


    ¡°The man in that bed over there ain¡¯t Swanson,¡± he hissed. ¡°I don¡¯t even think it speaks, or can understand anything. You need to clap that creature in irons and keep it down in the bilge. Better yet, tie chain-shot to its ankles, and throw it overboard.¡±


    It. Vhingfrith suddenly became aware of the silence in the room. No more snoring. He looked over and saw Swanson lying on his side, still as a stone, and staring at both of them wide-eyed.

 Chapter 34: The Goddess Gawa

    ¡°Heave to!¡± ¨C ¡°Stop!¡±


    THE ISLAND CHAIN was called the Red Bird Islands, and had garnered that name because the first to explore it were Englishmen who, upon anchoring nearby, claimed they saw a large red bird with a wingspan they said was wider than any man¡¯s armspan. It was bright red with a huge black beak, and impossible to miss against all the greenery that covered the largest island, Big Bell. The red bird flew constantly, they said, from one island to the next, up the green hills and down to the rocky shores. For a hundred years every explorer that came near the island chain claimed to see it. One wrote in his rutters, ¡°You cannot but wonder at this singular beauty, and wonder where the rest of its kind are. It seems so truly alone, and wondrous in its solitude. What a beauty!¡±


    But whatever the red bird had been, it was now long gone, having not been spotted in a decade. Things tended to disappear around the Red Bird Islands, including some of the islands themselves, because many were just raised sandbars that shifted in heavy storms or currents.


    The pirate ship came coasting slowly through the islands, disappearing behind hills, passing around treacherous cays, until at last someone cried out, ¡°Heave to!¡± The Hazard dropped her anchor two hundred yards out from Big Bell Island. Two longboats splashed down into the water and twenty men rowed ashore. Akil was one of them, and he and the surviving Africans had the captain in their boat¡ªLaurier was breathing but he had a fever, and was in and out. Akil was thankful that the Long Night had passed and that the heavens were in order again, he would not want to approach this fearsome-looking island at night.


    It has all the makings of an ambusher¡¯s hideaway.


    Indeed, that was exactly what some of the Hazard¡¯s men had warned him sometimes occurred here. He had argued briefly with Okoa. ¡°Then why are we going to this place?¡± Akil had asked. ¡°With the captain hurt and Hazard still in repair, we should not risk going to any place where we cannot be sure we are hidden. The Spaniards will be after us soon.¡±


    Okoa had nodded while gazing out at the rising sun. ¡°I don¡¯t disagree, rafiki. However, I must tell you that we are at least a day or two ahead of any pursuers, and few of them would come this way. Few would dare.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Okoa looked as if he was struggling with how much he ought to tell Akil. ¡°We are in Caesar¡¯s territory now.¡±


    Akil had held onto a stay and leaned in. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Somewhere in all these islands¡ªand there are hundreds, Akil¡ªsomewhere out here is where Caesar is said to keep his harem.¡±


    ¡°Pardon? His harem? He has a following of women?¡±


    ¡°Yes, many dozens of them. That is what they say. He keeps them all stashed away selfishly like some treasure. And there are stories he sometimes moves them around. The women will fight and die for him. Fight and die to keep his secrets. There are tales of ships seeing a smoke signal on various shores around here and slave women waving their arms, like they have survived some shipwreck, but when men go ashore to rescue them they are murdered and the women row out to the boat to slay the crew, who usually are enough to get away but then their numbers are dwindled and they limp back to some harbour. By the time any English ships come out this way to find them, the women are gone, as though they are phantoms, and either Caesar or Zuri has moved them.¡±


    ¡°Zuri?¡±


    ¡°The woman said to be the matriarch of his harem. The head woman. Like a chieftain, understand? Caesar has his own ship, and often sails away, leaving them here.¡±


    Akil had shook his head in wonder. ¡°But how can the women move about without a ship?¡±


    Okoa¡¯s smile had been grim. ¡°Caesar taught them well. Taught them how to pull in the sails of their ship, break down the masts, and fill the bilges with water to half sink her. By half sinking the ship, no ship passing by can see them hidden behind the islands. When they want to leave they simply pump water out of the bilges and their ship floats back to the top again, they reassemble the masts and avail themselves of the winds and leave.¡±


    Akil winced. ¡°Women do this?¡± he said astonished.


    ¡°Many things happen in this part of the World that happen nowhere else, rafiki. The Caribbean breeds survivors and killers and thieves. I thought you knew that by now.¡±


    As he rowed now towards Big Bell Island, Akil¡¯s senses were tautly aware. He looked at the craggy shore and the large boulders by the small cliffs, and knew that, were he organizing this island¡¯s defences, he would have men trained with spears and bows hiding there. Farther up the shore, the jungle was so thick it was black inside, like death waiting for him. To Akil¡¯s eye the jungle looked a little haggard, limbs sagging and turning brown. They are sun-starved. He knew that trees needed sunlight to grow, and having gone so many days without sunlight had caused parts of the jungle to wither.


    The effect was that the jungle looked even more evil.


    ¡°Boat your oars,¡± he commanded when they were in shallow enough water. The men obeyed him and Akil was the first to jump into the waist-deep water and pull the boat to shore. Wordlessly, he gestured for someone to hand him a spear and shield out of the boat. He and his men formed a shield wall facing the jungle, while Okoa and the white men and Anne Bonny all came swaggering up the shore in disorganized fashion.


    I wonder they did not all die their first time in combat, these white men. Their tactics are so nonexistent.


    But Okoa and the white people had pistols, so perhaps that gave them false security.


    The whole island seemed to hold its breath. Even the tide was soft, barely a whisper. Okoa strode ahead of them all and stared into the jungle. Akil saw that the man was well in range for a spear, should someone from that jungle decide to hurl one at him. We are exposed here. He looked back at the Hazard, anchored two hundred yards away. He looked at the boat, where Captain Laurier lay unconscious and sweating profusely.


    Then, Okoa called out, in a voice louder and more commanding than Akil had ever heard him, ¡°We are friends to Caesar!¡± Akil was surprised to hear the cripple speak so, and to do it in his native language. ¡°We do not deny his greatness! Mighty Caesar¡¯s reputation travels far and wide, everyone knows these shores are his, and his women¡¯s, and his children¡¯s! May it be so for a thousand years! We come only for the medicine this island holds! We will take nothing else¡ªnot water, nor fruit, nor firewood! Nothing! I direct your attention to the guns currently facing your shores!¡± Okoa gestured toward the Hazard.


    Akil and his people kept their shield wall up. Nothing but silence emanated from the jungle.


    ¡°We respect all that is Caesar¡¯s, but we will defend ourselves if we must! Queen Zuri have mercy on our pitiable souls, for one of us gravely ill and we require great medicine!¡±


    There was silence from the jungle.


    Okoa turned back to the others. He spoke now in English for the white people¡¯s benefit. ¡°Well, that seems to be that. We make camp now. Here. Akil, make sure your men go no farther than jungle, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes, rafiki.¡± He thought, I would not go in there even if the Ladyman commanded me. If Okoa is right and Caesar has warrior women, this place is evil. It is a fool that trusts warrior women. He stared at the dark jungle, and it seemed to stare back at him.


    ¡°Anne, help the others with captain,¡± Okoa said. ¡°He need more water now.¡±


    An hour later they were settled, and some of them ventured a dozen or so feet into the jungle to collect the wood they needed for campfires. Captain Belmont began stripping a tree of its bark, and while he did, Akil and Bogoa guarded him. Except for the occasional buzzing of mosquitoes, the jungle was deathly silent, like a tomb. They did not even hear any birds, nor any vermin. Nothing at all.


    ____


    Their campfires flickered along the shoreline. They made camp well away from the jungle, clearing away rocks to make the ground level enough to sleep on, and built their shelters from old sails. Akil and Bogoa oversaw the changing of the watches. Some of the white men scoured the beaches for mussels and snails to eat. Aboard the Hazard food had gotten scarce. All that extra treasure meant less room for food and supplies, and so the men had been rationing and tossing nets into the sea to catch what fish they could.


    The Ladyman was tended to by Okoa and Captain Belmont. Belmont had some skill as a physiker, and Akil made sure to watch everything he did. Recently, he¡¯d had a dream that told him he ought to learn the white man¡¯s medicine. He was walking in a grassy field with children of his tribe, and they were somewhere in the Colonies. The children had become sick from some poison the white man had fed them, and Akil had seen them wither into ash and blow away like leaves. ¡°Dreams are visions from Tua,¡± his mother had told him, ¡°and you must listen closely to glean what wisdom she offers.¡± To Akil the dream meant he ought to learn the ways of a healer, so that his people could flourish in the New World.


    So he watched Belmont¡¯s ministrations closely. He saw that the application of warm wet towels reduced fever; festering sores around the Ladyman¡¯s new Corrupted hand were treated by smearing honey and wine across his arm; olive oil and vinegar mixture were ointments for other blisters. But then there was the reason they had come here¡ªsome of these Caribbean islands had certain trees with a special bark. Strip that bark, and then shred it and turn it into a powder, and it could be used to eliminate pain in a patient. Akil made sure to watch and memorize every step of this process.


    Akil patrolled around the campfires, seeing that the white pirates were not really sleeping. They were lying down but they kept opening their eyes, watching the jungle.


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    He looked out at the Hazard, bobbing gently two hundred yards out. He thought he heard something. A twig snapping. Akil spun around with his spear and shield ready. There was nothing there, nothing but the black jungle.


    At one point during the night Bogoa walked over to him. ¡°The man¡­Belmont,¡± he wheezed, still struggling to speak through his deformity. ¡°He gave me¡­something for¡­the pain. A tea that helps¡­ease the itchiness.¡±


    ¡°Did it work?¡±


    Bogoa nodded his head slowly¡ªhis face and neck were now covered with black sores similar to the Ladyman¡¯s. ¡°Yes. The pain had subsided somewhat.¡±


    ¡°Good. I am glad for you, rafiki, you have suffered many long months for your heroic efforts that night. I think we will need the white man¡¯s medicine if we are to survive long term.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my prince.¡±


    Akil said nothing. The other Africans had taken to calling him that, especially after their success at the Spanish fort. They loved him for not leaving behind their dead, and they loved him even more for forcing Captain Laurier to help them collect their dead. As far as the Africans were concerned, there were two captains aboard the Hazard, and one of them had a greater destiny to bring liberty to the African people throughout the Caribbean and the New World. Akil thought it was Bogoa who was spreading this dream, and Akil allowed it. They would need to stick together if they were going to survive.


    ¡°Do you think¡­the sun will¡­come back up?¡± wheezed Bogoa.


    Akil shrugged and watched the jungle. ¡°I do not know. I have been studying the white men¡¯s methods for gauging the stars for navigation purposes, and listening to Okoa talk about how they predict the weather out here, when storms will come and go. But their methods do not seem to account for this phenomenon. Not yet. But Captain Laurier says wise men in England are trying. The captain has books called rutters, and in it he writes his observations about the Long Night and he has shared some of that with me. I hope to learn to read English as well as I have learned to speak it these past months. Better, even. Okoa says he will teach me. Maybe then I can find books that will tell us what to expect from¡ª¡±


    He stopped talking. They both sensed it. It wasn¡¯t a noise, nor anything they saw, but both of them swung back to the jungle and stared at it, shields up.


    ¡°There is something¡­watching us from inside that place, rafiki,¡± Bogoa said.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Or someone.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    They gazed into the darkness. After a protracted moment, they backed away from the jungle and rejoined the others by the campfires.


    ¡°You get some sleep,¡± Akil told his friend. ¡°I¡¯ll take this watch.¡±


    ____


    Nothing happened on Akil¡¯s watch. He woke Bogoa up and they switched watches. Akil finally rested, but his sleep was much like the white pirates¡¯ sleep: fitful. He would only drift for a few moments and then wake up and gaze into the jungle. Mosquitoes hounded him, biting him, buzzing in his ears. He kept his spear in his hand, his shield at his side. Once or twice he jolted awake for no reason at all and rose up, gathering his shield like their camp was under attack, only to relax again when he saw there was no threat.


    When he did sleep, Akil experienced fitful dreams, dark shapes flitting past his notice, like he was in some dark castle¡ªor a fortress like Bateria de la Lanza¡ªand he could hear lots of fighting going on, the sounds of swords clanging in hallways close by, but try as he might he could not find where the fighting was happening. ¡°Help us, rafiki!¡± cried his brothers. ¡°Help us! We are outnumbered and need your help!¡±


    ¡°Where are you?¡± he called out to them. ¡°Call out to me! I¡¯m coming¡ª¡±


    ¡°Here! We are here!¡± they screamed.


    Then he heard an awful sound. Songiya, his wife, crying out, ¡°Akil! Help me! They have me in chains and I cannot escape!¡±


    ¡°Songiya!¡± he shouted, and came awake saying her name. All around him the Africans, and even some of the whites, looked at him strangely.


    ¡°My prince,¡± said Ozu, one of Raymond Smith¡¯s former slaves. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± he said, sweating. ¡°Go back to sleep.¡±


    But now he was up and pacing. He patrolled the campfires again, which were all mostly dwindled down to glowing embers and ash, except for the one beside the captain. The Ladyman had been placed on a soft blanket beside the largest fire and Okoa and Anne Bonny slept close to him, pistols in their hands. Anne woke up and saw Akil coming but said nothing. Akil checked in on the Ladyman¡ªhis strange Corrupted hand was like some demon¡¯s claw, five black, elongated fingers with shimmering black-and-silver talons that stretched out like spear tips.


    After a while he returned to his bedroll, certain he would not be able to sleep but he tried anyway. Once or twice he did drift off, and he saw strange lands, places he had never visited, a place with no ground, only infinite black sky above and below him, filled with lightning and churning rocks. Akil tossed and turned. Then he was walking in fields of cotton and knew somehow he was in the New World again. He saw his brothers and sisters hanging from trees by long nooses and they were all gazing at him reproachfully, like he was somehow at fault.


    He awoke and gazed into the jungle, sensing eyes on him.


    He drifted, somewhere between dreaming and reality. He sensed water beneath his feet, and looked around and found himself standing on the ocean, walking on water and with the Hazard nowhere in sight. Nobody was within sight, just him.


    ¡°Akil kaKhayi,¡± a voice said to him. Akil spun around in the field. It was a woman¡¯s voice, almost like his mother¡¯s but it was not hers, he was sure. It was a voice he had never heard before. ¡°Akil kaKhayi, Prince of the Hadza People, where are you now?¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± he called out. He reached for his spear and shield but realized neither were here. Not only that, but he was completely naked, and the water all around him gleamed under five alien moons, all of varying colours, and the water reflected his naked body to him and the stars raced both overhead and underfoot.


    ¡°Poor warrior. Without clothes or even his weapons. Naked and alone. And lonely. And afraid. Poor, poor Prince.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± he shouted again. ¡°Show yourself!¡±


    ¡°What would your father and mother think of you now?¡±


    ¡°They know me! They know I have kept my honour and they know¡ª¡±


    ¡°And Songiya? What would she think?¡±


    He snarled. ¡°Vile spirit! Do not speak her name! Show yourself and I will strangle you!¡±


    ¡°When the Messenger comes, and his Master, will you protect our People?¡±


    ¡°What Messenger? Whose Master?¡±


    ¡°Is that the question you have for me? What Master?¡±


    ¡°The question I¡ª?¡± That¡¯s when Akil shut his mouth, and smiled savagely. Ah, I understand. Because he knew where he was and to whom this voice belonged. His mother had warned him about Gawa, a spirit or goddess who found a man in his dreams and spoke to them. She only spoke to men¡ªwomen had their own Dream Visitor, and it was a male spirit called Katak. Gawa tested men¡¯s pride, stripping them naked or perhaps tying them down, making them feel vulnerable. And if they endured her humiliation they got to ask a single question from her, a question about one¡¯s destiny, their future or their past, or the destiny of their loved ones, or even the fate of their enemies. ¡°I know where I am now. I know your game, great goddess. And I apologize for speaking to you so disrespectfully. Forgive me.¡± He went to his knees and knelt in the water.


    ¡°A prince who is humble. That is a good start,¡± the voice said. ¡°What question do you most desire answered?¡±


    Akil did not have to think long about it. ¡°Where is Songiya? Is she still alive? Is she still in chains?¡±


    ¡°That is three questions.¡±


    Akil gritted his teeth. ¡°All right, then. Is she alive?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Prince of the Hadza, your Songiya still walks this plane.¡±


    ¡°Where is she?¡±


    ¡°No more questions.¡±


    ¡°I have to know!¡± he rose to his feet. ¡°Where is my wife? Is she with child? She thought she might be with child when we were last together¡ª¡±


    ¡°This was our Visit, Prince. And now it has ended. But as a man who has humbled himself before me, I will tell you that dark skies are your friend now.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°These Long Nights are to your benefit. Be not afraid of them. The World was on one track of history, but now all things are in play. The New World is yours to seize, if you would be brave enough to try. A legacy of bondage need not be the tale of the Hadza People. The New World can be yours to rule, Akil, and yours alone. But beware those of Our People already changed by the dark skies. There are others of our People who cannot be saved.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Master the waters, control the seas, and destroy the Messenger and his Master, and then it will all be within your reach.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about? What Master? You mentioned him before! Who¡ª¡±


    ¡°Farewell, Prince of the Dark.¡±


    ¡°No! Wait!¡± Akil fell to his knees and beat his chest in frustration. He woke up again, scrambling for his shield and spear. The others around him were again annoyed by his disturbance, and some came awake reaching for their weapons, too. When everyone had settled down again, Akil gazed back into the jungle. Ozu was on patrol and was walking around the Ladyman¡¯s campfire.


    Akil realized he was trembling as he eased back down into his bedroll. He wanted to believe it had been more than just a dream, because that would mean Songiya was alive. But he was also concerned about Gawa¡¯s warning. For if she was correct he now had a new foe. Two of them.


    Messenger and Master. Who are you? And why have you drawn Gawa¡¯s ire? What does she choose me as her agent?


    Destroy them both, Gawa had said, and master the waters and control the seas, and Akil might very well conquer the New World. Gawa had indicated history might be altered, and seemed to suggest that the Long Night had upset the order enough he might wrest control of his people¡¯s destiny. He might become some sort of leader, a Prince of the Dark.


    He looked out over the waters, out the Hazard, and now he saw new purpose in that vessel.


    ____


    In the morning they woke up and broke camp and prepared to leave the island. Captain Belmont said he had gathered all the tree bark he needed to make the tea for the Ladyman, and so they hauled everything onto their two longboats.


    When Akil broke down his tent, he noticed something in the rough sand nearby. Footprints. Though, they were small, much smaller than those of the men he had put on patrol. He asked Anne Bonny if she had done a patrol, and she said, ¡°No, I never left the captain¡¯s side.¡± So Akil inspected the footprints closer and followed them until they disappeared in the rough rocks. He looked around the shore and saw no sign of anyone.


    ¡°Gawa?¡± he whispered. ¡°Are you there, goddess?¡± There was no answer.


    Then he started back to the boats and stopped when he saw movement. There, in the jungle, a set of white eyes stared back at him, not twenty yards away. Akil lifted his spear and almost called out to the others, but then he saw that it was a child¡¯s eyes. A girl, in fact, her face painted in a way he recognized, almost like a Hadza girl¡¯s prayer face. He stared at her, and she stared back.


    ¡°Akil?¡± Okoa shouted from the beach. ¡°Rafiki, come along! The boats are ready!¡±


    Akil looked to the longboats, preparing to shove off. And when he looked back at the jungle the child was gone. It was as if he¡¯d dreamed her. He took a few steps towards the jungle, and stopped. Something told him to go no further. He sensed it was dangerous to go into that place, that something terrible lay beyond. But beware those of Our People already changed by the dark skies. There are others of our People who cannot be saved. Akil heeded the warning of Gawa, and returned to the boats. He never mentioned the child to anyone.


    ____


    As the pirate ship raised her anchor and cast off, its crew began singing a chanty. Her sails bloomed in an easterly wind and her timbers creaked as she laboured on. Storm clouds piled high in the west, chasing them, but she would likely outrun them.


    Soon enough, the ship had gone, disappearing over the horizon and leaving little sign its crew had ever set foot on the island. The jungle was silent as always, the only noise the gentle soughing of the waves against the sand and rocks. What was left of the pirates¡¯ campfires was soon washed away, and the many sets of eyes that were watching the ship leave retreated back into the jungle. They retreated until they came to the center of the island, returning to the large black octopus that had fallen from the sky days before.


    They knelt at the feet of the great octopus, and prayed to it and offered it one of their elderly women as a sacrifice. The octopus¡¯s many limbs undulated excitedly as it picked the old woman apart and ate her, piece by piece. Its many purple eyes flashed and oscillated and the women all gyrated in ecstasy that their gift was received.

 Chapter 35: The Battle for the Leè´¸n Coronado

    ¡°Hang the jib.¡± ¨C To frown or pout.


    loblolly boys ¨C Young seamen who aid the ship¡¯s surgeon.


    INSIDE HIS WARD-ROOM, Benjamin fought for control of his officers. Sailors were famously superstitious and the idea that Henley claimed that Swanson was some sort of evil spirit coughed up from the seas and the Long Night was just too much for them. The barrage was unending: What are we to do about this? We cannot let Swanson stay on board this ship, can we? Shouldn¡¯t we act as though Henley¡¯s claims are accurate? And why should Old Charley lead you to the castaways, Captain? Do you think he knowingly sent us towards danger, or was he merely trying to help us rescue two men? Oughtn¡¯t we turn back now, to avoid steering into the same Altered Night that the Alexandria ran afoul of?


    To that last question, Vhingfrith said, ¡°I don¡¯t think it works like that, lads.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡± asked Bartlett.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. It is a guess. But at this point there is no evidence that I¡¯ve read that steering into the direction of a last-known Altered Night then traps a vessel in it. When an Altered Night arrives, it does so randomly, as if it chooses the ship it wants. And when it¡¯s over, it¡¯s gone for a while.¡± He tried to steer the conversation in a direction that kept them all focused. ¡°You fellows, you are the brains of this ship, and those men on deck, they are its blood. If you lose your heads now, we lose our quarry. Do not forget we are out here on a mission for England. The Duke is with us. We are not just some merchants like those aboard Alexandria who, God rest her souls, were unseasoned. Henley tells me it was a fresh crew, with a captain that had hardly sailed the Caribbean at all. So do not assume their fate must be ours.¡± That was a lie. That was not what Henley had told him. It was the opposite.


    He looked each of them in the eye.


    ¡°We are men of the Long Night. Some of you sailed with me through that first journey through the firmament, and made it out alive. Those that doubted and jumped into the waters, they would be alive today had they merely had faith in Lively and themselves. Do you disagree, Mr. Osterholm?¡±


    The Jew shook his head. ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°Do you disagree, Mr. Tyndall?¡±


    ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°No monsters destroyed us then. It was our own lack of faith and courage that nearly undid us. God rest those men¡¯s souls, all of them, but the only thing that killed them was despair. And as for Old Charley out there, if he wanted us dead, do you not think such a titan capable of simply smashing a ship to flinders with any of his fins or tentacles would have trouble with us? Mr. Averill?¡±


    ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Bartlett?¡±


    ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°And if this Swanson is some mimic vomited up from the firmament, do you think it can be anything worse than what we endured in Port Royal those first days of the Cataclysm? Major Halleck?¡±


    ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°Serjeant McCulloch?¡±


    ¡°No, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Very good.¡±


    ¡°But,¡± said Bartlett sheepishly, ¡°it occurs to me, sir, and I would be remiss if I did not mention¡­¡± He hesitated.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°The things that besieged Port Royal, did they not sometimes mimic human voices? Voices of the dead?¡±


    ¡°They did,¡± Benjamin allowed.


    ¡°And so might it not be possible that whatever creatures have spilled over from the firmament have the ability to mimic a dead man¡¯s body?¡±


    ¡°It is possible, Mr. Bartlett. And you¡¯re a wise man for catching it. Thank you for bringing it to everyone¡¯s attention and making sure we are all on alert.¡± Ben looked at each of them. ¡°Does every man here understand the importance of what Mr. Bartlett just said?¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir,¡± they intoned grimly.


    ¡°Very good. It gladdens me to know the Lively has men of strength who are not so dull to trust these Long and Altered Nights, and yet will still sail bravely with the Lively, and will bleed with her when she sinks her teeth into the Le¨®n Coronado.¡± He was happy to see this received a few smiles and laughs. And then he ventured to open his heart to them. ¡°I love you all.¡± This drew serious, almost solemn gazes. ¡°I mean it. It may not be professional of me to say, but there it is. I love you all, I love this ship, and I love England. Without those three loves¡­well, I¡¯m not sure who we all are, nor what we are doing out here in these Long Nights.¡±


    They all nodded, but their expressions all hanged the jib, and a few of them made the sign of the cross in silence.


    ¡°We are not just privateers anymore, we are explorers, just like Columbus and Magellan, and now we must be cartographers for England and chart ourselves new courses and design new rutters to navigate the Long Night.¡±


    He pointed to his cabin.


    ¡°If there be a mimic on board, we will survive it. Until such time that we can prove one way or another, Swanson will be moved into the cook¡¯s quarters, with two marines standing guard just outside his door. Maxwell won¡¯t like it but I¡¯ll put salve on his wound by allowing him to bunk in my quarters. That is all. Ah, and now I hear the bell!¡± He pointed towards the sound. ¡°Assuming we¡¯re not in another Long Night, sunrise isn¡¯t far off. Mr. Bartlett, prepare to wake the men of second watch.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    ¡°The rest of you, get some sleep. We will need it. Because if my and Mr. Fuller¡¯s summations are correct¡ªand I believe they are¡ªthen our quarry is somewhere in this fog with us. We gave her a lashing last time, her crew will be tired from making repairs around the clock and I intend for us to take advantage of their haggardness by blowing a giant fucking hole through their keel and drinking wine from Spanish goblets to celebrate! What do you lot think?¡±


    It had been a long time since Benjamin had ever heard men cheer so heartily. Probably not since his father gave a similar speech in this very room, weeks before his own doom.


    ____


    Benjamin checked in on Swanson that night. The lad was lying down in Maxwell¡¯s bed, back facing the door. He was snoring loudly.


    When he stepped out into the corridor, Benjamin looked at the two marines guarding the door. ¡°Let me know the minute he says anything. If either of you get sleepy, let the major know, and we¡¯ll swap you out with some fresh fellows, so you can get some rest. There¡¯ll be an extra ration of rum for each of you when this is all over.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir,¡± they said smiling. ¡°Thank you, Captain.¡±


    ____


    They spotted the Le¨®n Coronado at the end of the day, just as the fog was clearing and night was falling. And it was Benjamin, standing at the portside railing, who saw the ship first with his darkness-piercing sight. He spied the square-rigged sails, and identified her by her frame and shape. Le¨®n Coronado was a small galleon, no more than a hundred feet in length overall and twenty feet at the beam. Unusual dimensions for a galleon in these waters. Benjamin called up to the crow¡¯s nest, and the men there spun around and aimed their spyglasses and found their enemy.


    The chase began well after sunset, and Benjamin was brimming with vim and vigour, glancing back at the Duke, wondering if Captain Rogers was prepared to honour their wager. After the Coronado escaped last time, Ben had met Rogers aboard his ship, where the latter discussed heading back to Port Royal because, as he put it, ¡°The Coronado¡¯s captain will not remain in these waters. Damaged as she is, she¡¯ll sail home to Spain.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll stay here, by God,¡± Benjamin had said. ¡°Her captain and crew have grown cocky, I wager, since they¡¯ve been in these waters for almost three years and no one has stopped them. They think they¡¯re invincible.¡±


    Woodes Rogers, who had carefully planned the death of John Laurier behind Vhingfrith¡¯s back four months ago, had been sitting inside his cabin sharing goblets of rum. Neither of them had said anything about the events of that night¡ªthe night of the Cataclysm, when Laurier stepped out of Benjamin¡¯s life forever, rumoured to be both alive and dead, both killed and unkillable, both sunk and pirating around the Colonies. But John had been in and out of Ben¡¯s life so many times, and Ben¡¯s eagerness to be seen as a true Englishman and become a man of quality was so severe, that he¡¯d allowed himself to look past Rogers¡¯s deception for the time being and shake hands on the wager. Because, for all his deceptions, Rogers was an ally in finding both the Le¨®n Coronado and the Santo Domingo de Guzman, and Ben¡¯s only means to legitimacy and even citizenship.


    Benjamin dared not dream that big, not just yet. He did not the Universe stamp it out, so he refused to get his hopes up. But to be a citizen of England was a dark desire he had never even spoken to John, and yet John had guessed it was his main quest.


    Presently, Benjamin told himself John Laurier was nothing. A friend who was sometimes more, a friend when his father had been alive, but was ultimately a privateer-turned-pirate and had suffered the consequences of the life he chose. Benjamin would not allow himself to end up like that. John had squandered a beautiful mind and his position of birth privilege. I shall not, he thought, fingers touching the locket. John Laurier, then, must be put out of mind. The dalliances they¡¯d had, the companionship they¡¯d shared, must be seen as a chapter that had closed.


    It was soon clear the Le¨®n Coronado had spotted them, too, for Benjamin saw all her sails suddenly bloom and puff up. She quickly disappeared over the horizon, but they had her trajectory now, because there was only one wind, and only one current, and therefore only one way the Spaniards could really go. But there was trouble ahead, a patch of sea that was darkening. Often as not, that was sign of a reef lurking just below the water. But it could also be spawning fish, he thought. It certainly wasn¡¯t Charley, for he was swimming far behind them.


    It would be daring thing to sail straight on and chance hitting a reef. Perhaps too daring.


    Or perhaps just the gall the men need to see in their captain, his father¡¯s voice said.


    ¡°Let¡¯s tack south, lads!¡± Benjamin shouted from the quarterdeck. ¡°What do you say?¡±


    ¡°Three cheers for the Devil¡¯s Son!¡± someone cried.


    A brief silence. Benjamin didn¡¯t know who said it, but he could tell the others were uncertain if it was appropriate to call the captain by that nickname. He knew much depended on how he responded to it. So, he threw his head back and laughed. Others laughed, too, including Osterholm, who sat on a barrel and slapped his potbelly, and Averill, who sang from the ratlines. Everyone was tired, somewhat disoriented by all the hard work, perhaps even a little frightened by the story of Swanson the cabin boy. But they¡¯d survived Long Nights together, defended Port Royal against Spanish incursion, and sailed with fearsome Ol¡¯ Charley at their side. The firmament had tossed them around, had tossed the whole world around, and yet these men stood. And sailed on.


    ¡°Hip-hip, hooray! Hip-hip, hooray! Hip-hip, hooray!¡±


    Vhingfrith had Bartlett sent out a signal to the Duke in the form of lanterns waving in patterns. The large man-o-war signaled back that they hadn¡¯t seen the Coronado, but changed their course to follow the Lively in pursuit. Woodes Rogers knew the power of Vhingfrith¡¯s cat¡¯s-eye. In the darkness, it was not to be doubted.


    ____


    A man named Strathairn died during the night. No one knew the cause. There was no sign of foul play, Mr. Tyndall found no sign of a broken neck or stab wound or strangulation. He was grey-haired and bent, however, a seasoned cooper and blacksmith that had sailed with the likes of Norris and Wickham. And, Benjamin soon discovered, the man was well loved by those of the lower decks. Strathairn had been a good spinner of tales, with an apparently limitless supply of jokes, and so his death brought a unexpected pall over the previous day¡¯s celebration.


    The body was brought up from below, wrapped in Strathairn¡¯s own hammock as was tradition, and with one cannonball tied to him. The hammock was sewn around him. The last stitch was run through his nose to be sure he was dead.


    ¡°Off hats!¡± called Captain Vhingfrith. The men doffed their hats, and in solemn silence they listened to the captain say the words. ¡°Neil Adam Strathairn, beloved by his captain and crew.¡± It was perhaps one of the more important duties a captain must preside over, and Benjamin had seen his father do this quite a few times at sea. You must let them see you stalwart, boy, yet affected. It humanizes you to them. Even in such a sad moment, you can make an impression. ¡°Able-bodied seaman, skilled cooper and smith. He was loved by the men he served with. There isn¡¯t a man who can say that Neil Strathairn failed to respond to a friend in need, nor to his duties when ordered.¡±


    Vhingfrith read a passage from Scripture, one recommended by his pilot. ¡°We therefore commit his body to the deep.¡±


    The body was wrapped in the Union Jack and was placed on a plank, them summarily dropped into the sea. The silence was broken by a faint splash. Strathairn¡¯s clothes and sea chest were immediately auctioned off among the men for his widow back home.


    ____


    When the sun came up again, the Coronado was nowhere in sight, but Vhingfrith knew they were close. The winds and current had them in a loop. There was nowhere the Spaniards could go that he and Mr. Fuller could not predict.


    Three men were now kept in the maintop at all times, and during the nights Vhingfrith took a shift in the crow¡¯s nest himself, to lend his cat¡¯s-eye. The men welcomed his company. Indeed, he thought he saw their chests puff up during his visitations. Even when rains came, they huddled under their coats and sighted through their spyglasses, waiting for those distant winks of lightning to show them the Le¨®n Coronado.


    But all the while, his mind was in three places at once. The first place was back home in Antigua, on his father¡¯s plantation, playing hide-and-seek with Mother while Father was off sailing and trading abroad. The second place was the dark corner where he had put John Laurier and all their memories together. Sometimes, whenever he looked out and saw the Duke, and imagined Captain Rogers at the helm, Vhingfrith imagined himself strangling him.


    And the third place his mind went to was the cook¡¯s quarters, where Swanson was still being held. The cabin boy still had not said a word.


    ____


    When Benjamin was about seven or eight his mother taught him the game of hide-and-seek. They lived in Antigua, on a small plantation his father paid for by funding ventures of privateers, before becoming a privateer himself. He had not been allowed to play with Negro children. Whenever he asked why, his mother gave the same reason: ¡°I shouldn¡¯t want you to become so familiar with them that you begin to think yourself the same.¡± It hadn¡¯t made sense to him at the time, but after what happened with Toby, it was clear his mother never wanted either Ben or white people to think of him as a slave.


    And so, hide-and-seek had been a game twixt Ben and his mother, especially during those times when Father was away on long trips. It was just the two of them, hiding in the fields of sugarcane behind the house, or in the barn, or around the rocks by the shore, or in any of a dozen other places. Whenever he was done with his studies, his mother would sit in the living room and count to fifty, then come looking for him. In those first days of the game, his mother would laugh and tickle him when she found him, and then encourage him to find a better hiding place next time.


    But as the years wore on, and Ben became a young man, the game continued. Ben found himself bored of it, and desperately wanted to meet other boys and girls, like those he saw in town. But his mother was adamant. The game must continue.


    And so it had. Only when she found him, Ben could expect a lecture, practically a chastisement for the obviousness of his choice to hide in a ditch or the barn loft. One evening while they sat eating in the dining room, Benjamin had asked her why the game must go on. ¡°I¡¯m not longer a child, so why must we play the game?¡± His mother had set her fork down, but leveled her knife at him. After a moment, she said, ¡°If I were to chase you with this knife next time, would you hide differently?¡±


    Benjamin had never considered this. He nodded, ¡°Of course, Mother.¡±


    ¡°Then imagine me with this knife. And always imagine that whatever is troubling you, or chasing you, is probably worse. Always assume it. Do you hear me, son?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Mother.¡±


    ¡°Then do as I say. Always imagine it¡¯s worse. And hide better.¡±


    After that day, whenever they played the game, she never found him again.


    Had the woman been insane? Did she have one of her dreams, the ones that showed her terrible things that she thought were omens? Was that why she encouraged him to hide better? Had she seen a day coming when things would be worse for him? Benjamin thought it might be that. He¡¯d always known he was different, because children know when they are being shielded. They may go a lifetime not appreciating it, but they sense the dangers just beyond the fence, just over there in the forest, if only because their parents forbid them to go there. Slaves came and went from their plantation, bought and sold, sometimes worked to death, and as he sat on the porch the children always glared at him from the bottom of the steps. So Ben knew he wasn¡¯t of their world, no more than he was of the whites¡¯. It had never been a game; his mother had been preparing him to hide from them all.


    Standing in the doorway in front of Swanson, who sat vacant-eyed and silent and shivering in the cook¡¯s quarters, Vhingfrith thought, Always imagine it¡¯s worse. ¡°Has he eaten?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± said Carson, one of the marines Major Halleck had assigned to keep watch outside the door.


    ¡°Has he spoken?¡±


    ¡°No, sir. Nelson here thought he heard him mutter something, but I think he was just coughing.¡±


    Vhingfrith looked at the other marine. ¡°Nelson, have you seen any other strange behaviour out of him?¡±


    ¡°None that you can¡¯t see for yourself, sir. He drools a bit, but that¡¯s because his mouth lolls open a lot.¡± Nelson shrugged.


    The ship heeled. Outside, Old Charley was lightly grazing the hull, the scraping noise went from bow to stern. There was a theory he liked scratching any itches he had by scraping the barnacles off the ship¡¯s hull.


    Vhingfrith looked back at the cabin boy. Snapped his fingers in front of the lad¡¯s face. Always imagine it¡¯s worse. ¡°Let me know if he says anything or does anything out of the ordinary. No matter how small. Even if you have to wake me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Captain.¡±


    Vhingfrith appraised young Swanson a moment longer. When he turned away, he thought he heard whispering. He looked back at Swanson. ¡°Sorry, what?¡± But the boy seemed as unmoved as before, and only stared at nothing.


    ____


    ¡°Some o¡¯ the men fear we lost the Coronado to an Altered Night,¡± Fuller said. He sat at the table with the captain, Major Halleck, the first and second mates, Dawson, and Tyndall, all eating a course of brined beef, biscuits, and a pudding. The sun was setting and the crew were singing out in the galley. ¡°They think the reason we haven¡¯t seen our quarry in days is because they got swallowed up, taken to wherever it is a ship goes when they get sucked into an Altered Night.¡±


    ¡°Is that possible, Captain?¡± asked the major. ¡°Is that how the firmament works? It takes people to some other plane of existence?¡± Halleck¡¯s curiosity might have been born, Fuller thought, by his military need to know of all possible outcomes, and plan strategies accordingly. But he¡¯d also noticed how everyone leaned on Vhingfrith¡¯s knowledge of the firmament, being the man that coined the phrase himself and wrote about it in papers that were reprinted and spread as far as England, Spain, France, and the Colonies.


    And Fuller always recognized Vhingfrith¡¯s face as he wrestled with two matters: the fact that other men respected him enough as an erudite to ask, and the fact that he was meant to pretend at knowledge that no man could lay claim.


    Vhingfrith wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said, ¡°It is my belief that whenever a ship, man, fish, or entity is drawn into an Altered Night, then yes, that ship or entity is no longer on this physical plane, but some other plane, perhaps partially immaterial.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean, ¡®immaterial¡¯?¡± asked Bartlett.


    ¡°Means it lacks the ordinary laws that provide substance to things in our world, Major,¡± Tyndall provided.


    Fuller smiled to himself, and drank his rum. The definition Scarecrow had just provided was almost verbatim from Vhingfrith¡¯s papers. He knew, because he¡¯d read them many times himself before leaving Port Royal.


    ¡°How is that possible?¡± asked Major Halleck.


    Vhingfrith lifted his biscuit, and tilted his head philosophically. ¡°I have only my theories, my friends. Nothing I laid down in those papers was a fact, more my reflections on my own experiences, and what I¡¯ve gathered through observation, and the accounts of others¡¯. Tea?¡±


    ¡°Yes, thank you.¡±


    Vhingfrith poured it himself, a frightful generosity for any officer. Fuller had noticed Vhingfrith often availed himself of many such interactions, more carefully manicured than talks had been in the days before the Cataclysm. His respect for the Devil¡¯s Son grew daily, and he was forced to admit to himself that he might¡¯ve been wrong to assume all these men were going along with Vhingfrith begrudgingly, because there was no other way to enter into such enterprise with the likes of Woodes Rogers and England.


    But that isn¡¯t true. There¡¯s more to it than that. He¡¯s somehow positioned himself as the right kind of know-it-all. He got his men through the Hellmouth, or whatever¡ªthe Altered Night. He helped in Port Royal in the days following the Cataclysm. He took down a Spanish galleon with pirates, and fought two more galleons to defend Royal. He¡¯s availed himself to his crew. Something else has transpired here, and I find myself glad of it.


    ¡°May be just as well the firmament took her,¡± Dawson was saying. ¡°After that first salvo, we were lucky we got hit so little. Coronado¡¯s not such a terrifying galleon, aye, but she¡¯s fierce. And now she¡¯ll be ready for us, and she¡¯ll know that wherever she sees Lively, the Duke isn¡¯t far behind. Our element of surprise is lost. And those guns¡­those guns of hers¡­¡±


    ¡°Aye, they were a damn fine battery,¡± said Averill.


    ¡°You¡¯ll all have to compliment Maxwell on his fine delivery of this evening¡¯s meal,¡± said the captain, changing the subject. ¡°And I understand he has something quite special planned for us tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of Maxwell,¡± said Bartlett. ¡°How is he handling having his quarters given up to Swanson?¡±


    ¡°Mm,¡± Vhingfrith spoke around a mouthful of hardtack, ¡°he¡¯s quite fine with it, I assure you. I believe he likes bunking with me, in fact,¡± he laughed. The captain started to say something else, but waited for the ship to heel. Outside, Charley was having a time of it.


    ¡°And how is the lad? Still hasn¡¯t said anything?¡± said Averill.


    The table went eerily quiet. This was the gossip they all wanted to hear.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m afraid Mr. Swanson still hasn¡¯t said anything.¡±


    ¡°Some of the men think he may be a Judas,¡± Dawson warned. ¡°That spells bad for us if it catches on.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t catch on. I have faith in this crew, Mr. Dawson, perhaps more faith than everyone in this room com¡ª¡±


    There came a ruckus outside in the companionway. The door flung open and Serjeant McCulloch came in panting, face elated.


    ¡°Captain! They need your eye up in the nest! Adler thinks he spotted her but it¡¯s too dark! Said he thought he saw a lantern briefly moving in the night, just a small light! They need your eye up in the¡ª¡±


    Vhingfrith¡¯s chair scraped the floor as she shot up, wiped his mouth, and said, ¡°Say no more, Serjeant,¡± as he grabbed his tricorne and jogged out the door. Everyone else quickly followed. Fuller still had his napkin tucked into his collar when he came to the portside railing and stood beside Captain Vhingfrith, who stared across darkness, out beyond the dark form of Old Charley. Fuller saw nothing. Waited for Vhingfrith. ¡°Where away?¡±


    ¡°Two points off the starboard bow!¡± Adler called from the crow¡¯s nest.


    Fuller watched Vhingfrith shut his right eye, and slowly scanned the night with his left. What must it look like for him, to see through the shadows God meant to keep the world¡¯s secrets?


    At last, the captain smiled. ¡°I see her. She¡¯s there. It¡¯s her. Mr. Bartlett, Major Halleck, beat to quarters. Mr. Fuller, my congratulations, sir. You predicted her every step along the way, through fog and darkness. Knowing I¡¯m a man of the Molly-house, I hope you¡¯ll accept my invitation to marriage.¡±


    Fuller¡¯s mouth hung open. He wasn¡¯t sure if anyone else around had heard it, but to his knowledge this was the first time he¡¯d ever heard Vhingfrith acknowledge publicly that he was a poof.


    Vhingfrith gave him a weird, sly smile, and walked away to join Dawson at the helm. Fuller blurted out a laugh. Then scowled. Then laughed. He had no idea what to do with this news. He didn¡¯t know if there was anything to be done. The captain had become so familiar, and so confident in his crew, that he¡¯d just said a thing that he shouldn¡¯t want ever spoken.


    But the moment was over before he had time to fully marinate in it. He had a job to do, and ran to the binnacle to do it. And when he got to the quarterdeck he was in time to hear Vhingfrith say to the helmsman, ¡°Here is my plan, Mr. Dawson, and you¡¯ll tell me if I¡¯m crazy.¡±


    Vhingfrith said something close to Dawson¡¯s ear. Fuller couldn¡¯t hear it, for just then Charley breached the surface like a whale and sent a shower over their heads, soaking everyone and causing Lively to heel heavily to port.


    ¡°Captain¡­that¡¯s awful risky¡­¡± Dawson was saying.


    ¡°But Coronado hasn¡¯t seen us yet. Only I have seen her. And we cannot signal the Duke, not with lanterns and not with pistol shot, or else our quarry might detect us. If we do this maneuver, we must start making plans for it now, while Coronado has no clue we¡¯re behind her.¡±


    ¡°What is this plan?¡± asked Fuller, walking up.


    Vhingfrith looked at his navigator. Back at his pilot.


    Dawson sighed and shrugged. ¡°We¡¯ll need to cut speed. Now. That¡¯ll give us time to prepare. But, Cap¡¯n, if I may say, her guns¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know, I know, you keep saying. But I believe our men can stall long enough for Captain Rogers to swoop in and finish the job.¡±


    Dawson looked uncertain.


    ¡°What plan?¡± Fuller insisted.


    They both looked at him. And they told him.


    ____


    It was Adler, up in the maintop, who spotted her against the rising sun. The Le¨®n Coronado was running. And now that they had the light, they could signal the Duke using flags from the maintop, telling them to slow down. Lively sailed half a day like this, keeping herself at the furthest reach of the Coronado¡¯s sight, all sails out, turning southwest and close-reached with the wind. This slowed them down, but not as much as what Vhingfrith ordered next.


    They reeled in Lively¡¯s Union Jack, deploying a green-and-yellow flag with British emblem on it; the flag of a merchantman, which Lively had once been. They then reduced her speed further by towing astern cables and chests and seven long ropes tied to heavy pots taken from the kitchen. Maxwell wasn¡¯t happy about that, even once Vhingfrith told him the plan.


    Going as slow as she was, the Lively would appear sluggish despite all her sails out, which would mean, at first blush, she was either a wounded duck or a merchantman loaded down with too much cargo. A prime target for a Spanish galleon who was herself nursing many injuries but still looking for English treasures.


    They sailed away from the Duke, but kept the Coronado just within sight. ¡°Come on,¡± Vhingfrith said from the quarterdeck. ¡°Come on, see us, see us.¡± Beside him, Mr. Dawson, Mr. Fuller, and Mr. Averill were all watching in silence.


    Then, the call came from the maintop. ¡°She¡¯s turning, Captain!¡± Adler shouted. ¡°I see her prow coming about!¡±


    ¡°Slowly now, Mr. Dawson,¡± Vhingfrith said. ¡°Don¡¯t be too suspicious. Just get us close-hauled and let them meet us.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡± The pilot slowly turned the wheel to the left. Lively drifted that way, as leisurely as a Sunday stroll.


    Vhingfrith went to the ship¡¯s stern and called down to the men leaning out the three windows of the captain¡¯s quarters. ¡°Be ready to cut all ropes!¡± he called down.


    ¡°Aye, sir!¡± Osterholm called up. He and seven men were prepared with axes. The ropes tied to the beams inside the captain¡¯s quarters were two hundred feet long, and were dragging the pots and chests behind them, across the seafloor. Dragging all this cargo in the water could slow them down, even against the current.


    ¡°Where did you learn this trick, sir?¡± asked Averill, coming up beside him. The man looked as tense as Vhingfrith had ever seen.


    ¡°From a pirate.¡±


    Averill had had a nervous smile that now vanished. ¡°Which pirate?¡±


    ¡°John Laurier.¡±


    Vhingfrith walked away from the stern and sighted the Coronado through his spyglass. She was indeed turning towards them, running before the wind a while before going into broad reach. There was no reason for them to change course other than to intercept the Lively. ¡°They¡¯ve fallen for it. They¡¯re in broad reach now, Dawson. Coming right at us. You know what to do.¡±


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    Vhingfrith sighted the enemy again. They were definitely taking the bait. He looked around for Old Charley, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the beast had gone under and was only making occasional appearances, as though he knew what Lively was up to and that he needed to not be seen. Strange. Does he recognize the Coronado? Does he know it¡¯s our same enemy as before? Does he know we¡¯re trying to deceive¡ª?


    Something caught his eye. When he searched for it again, he saw they were currently flying over unusually clear waters. And a light came up from the depths. A pulsating, red light that came from one of the four or six orb-like protrusions on Charley¡¯s head. It was only momentary, just a glimpse of the seabed, not so far beneath the Lively. It was strange to suddenly see fish and sharks swimming beneath them in such clarity, as though the water had just turned into glass. He wondered if anyone else saw it. All that loose sand and shale, huge clouds of it swirling in Charley¡¯s wake. They were so close to the seafloor he wondered if¡­


    Vhingfrith jogged down the steps to the main deck. ¡°Linemen, Say depth!¡±


    ¡°Five fathoms!¡± called Jocom, an African boy missing half his fingers.


    That¡¯s enough, he thought.


    Another voice said, No, it¡¯s too close.


    Vhingfrith clenched his jaw. It¡¯s enough. ¡°Mr. Bartlett.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Capstan bars, now. Prepare to drop anchor.¡±


    His second mate looked at him sharply. ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°You heard me, Mr. Bartlett. Be prepared to drop anchor when I say. Have a man sprinkle sand across the deck. Lively¡¯s going to take water across her deck and we don¡¯t want it slippery, not when it counts. And ready the flags in the maintop, I want to signal the Duke to change tack and go all sails.¡± He ran back up the stairs, to shout over the stern rail, ¡°Mr. Osterholm! We need speed, cut the ropes!¡± To his pilot, ¡°Mr. Dawson, I have a slight alteration to our plan.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Charley¡¯s just shown me something, and I mean to capitalize on it.¡±


    ____


    Before the battle could commence, all was made ready below.


    Mr. Tyndall, the man all the lads called Scarecrow, had the loblolly boys push all chairs from the galley and prep dinner tables for receiving the wounded. Sail canvas was placed on the floor to help prevent people slipping on the blood. There would be lots of blood.


    ____


    The Le¨®n Coronado¡¯s captain may have realized the deception earlier than Vhingfrith wanted. A pity, but no major tragedy. He smiled at the memory of John relaying his story of taking down the Sarah Girl, and thinking it sounded mad at the time. But while the trick of disguising a ship as a treasure-laden merchantman may have been his, the ¡°smuggler¡¯s turn¡± was a technique developed by a friend of Vhingfrith¡¯s father, and written about by legendary sailors such as Krenshaw and Graeber.


    But Benjamin had never once tried it.


    Benjamin glanced over his shoulder at the Duke. She had seen the signal and was gaining speed, approaching fast. By now the men in the Coronado¡¯s crow¡¯s nest would have seen the Duke coming, and would know this had been an ambush. Her prow began to turn. There! There she goes, veering off! She knows! ¡°Mr. Dawson¡ª¡±


    ¡°I see it, Captain. I¡¯m touching her with a feather¡­¡± The pilot gave a small turn of the wheel.


    Vhingfrith realized he was holding his breath, waiting for the moment he¡¯d read about in Graeber¡¯s Tactics & Strategems. And he used his own governance of the sea, of the wind. He let Lively speak to him. He listened to the sea, to the dolphins splashing ahead of their cut-water, even to Old Charley swimming alongside them now, which, at this distance, would no longer look like a pod of whales to the men aboard Coronado, but a true Leviathan.


    The Le¨®n Coronado was coming at them head-on, getting larger, going from coin-sized to fist-sized in a matter of seconds, her forward cannons visible, and they could see men attending them, gunnery teams preparing to fire¡ª


    ¡°Now, Mr. Dawson! Aim our prow right at hers!¡±


    ¡°Aye, Cap¡¯n! Aye!¡±


    Dawson spun the wheel hard and Bartlett helped him. And as they did, Vhingfrith wondered, Am I mad?


    The maneuver was viable, but also forbidden by Royal Navy regulations, for it was seen as unsafe for the vessel as it put far too great a strain on the timbers, and when the vessel slewed it would also heel and possibly move cargo around unpredictably, making the ship weighted to one side, hindering her maneuverability. Speed also had to first be increased, and then cut nearly in half at the right moment, which could give enemy vessels time to line up their broadsides.


    They were still at beam reach, while the Coronado was coming on fast at broad reach, forward guns facing Lively¡¯s port side. ¡°To the gunnels! Grab some lines!¡± Vhingfrith shouted. The timing of this would have to be precise, and, as far as he knew, not a single man aboard Lively had ever done a smuggler¡¯s turn. Why should they? Most of them had served at some point as sailors of his Majesty¡¯s Royal Navy, and aboard a British man o¡¯ war, whose size would almost certainly cost the ship dearly in a smuggler¡¯s turn. But for a brigantine, Vhingfrith had learned it was far more feasible. His father had done it twice chasing Spanish naos.


    But could Benjamin perform what he¡¯d only heard about while sitting upon his father¡¯s lap, and only seen done once by the Ladyman?


    Doubt swam in his gut, and for a moment he gave a thought to John. He touched the locket for good luck. And why not? Why shouldn¡¯t John Laurier be looking down from Paradise? Why shouldn¡¯t he be admitted into heaven where he could watch over¡ª


    ¡°Captain!¡± Dawson called. ¡°These waves¡ª¡±


    Yes, indeed. Old Charley swims hard to our starboard. But I¡¯m counting on him, too. Charley¡¯s tumult was making them bob in the water, almost like floating above it. A sensation usually only experienced in storms. ¡°Hold fast, Mr. Dawson! Courage now! Now¡­hard aport!¡±


    He helped Dawson spin the wheel.


    This is madness. Turn back now, Benjamin. The voice sounded like both his, his father¡¯s, and his mother¡¯s, and yet he believed. He pulled the wheel double-handed, grunting, shouting at Dawson and Bartlett to find more strength. They spun and spun, while the ship leaned and the whole crew hung on to railing and ropes. Vhingfrith saw Serjeant McCulloch and his marines dodging out of the way of barrels of rice that went rolling across the deck and crashed against the starboard rail.


    ¡°Handsomely now, Dawson! Handsomely!¡±


    We¡¯re not going to make it.


    Yes, you are, said a voice on the wind. John¡¯s voice. Show them what you can do, Ben. No man can stop your beautiful mind.


    ¡°Like God¡¯s wrath, Dawson! Now hold! Hold her!¡± They clutched the wheel to keep her spun to port, but the water dragged against the rudder and the Lively fought them to wrest back control. ¡°Drop anchor!¡±


    ¡°Drop anchor!¡± Bartlett cried, clinging to netting.


    They could feel when the anchor hit the seafloor, and when it dragged along the bed. Lively juddered and moaned as the portside rail was pulled forcefully into the water. The deck was leaned at nearly a forty-five-degree angle, digging into the sea. Water swam over the scuppers and deck and swept men¡¯s feet out from under them.


    ¡°Let out some slack!¡± he cried, but the men at the capstan had already done so.


    The Lively was turned directly into the Le¨®n Coronado¡¯s path, and the nao gave two shots from its guns. Both shots ripped through the prow and missed everything important. A bit of good luck there. And now the Coronado was closing at two hundred yards and turned to her port, going beam-reach eastward, her cut-water slicing into foaming waters. Coronado never had time to reload and fire again, because Lively fish-tailed and came to an almost complete stop as the Spanish ship streaked past them, so close Vhingfrith could almost count the pinstripes on the uniforms of the Spanish soldiers who were lining up their shots, but now gawked at the maneuver. Lively had the nao momentarily athwartships, her front facing her enemy¡¯s sides, then heeled hard in her enemy¡¯s wake, her timbers crackling, and she kept spinning around in the water in a lurching slide like a sled on ice, her prow raking from the western horizon to the eastern horizon. She spun almost perfectly one hundred eighty degrees, almost rolling over into the water, dumping barrels of rum and rice into the sea while men clung to rails. Some of them screamed. Some of them laughed.


    Bartlett cried out, ¡°Man overboard!¡±


    This was always a risk of a smuggler¡¯s turn performed so rapidly. Or so said Vhingfrith¡¯s father.


    ¡°Throw out anything that floats, Mr. Averill!¡± Vhingfrith called. ¡°Throw out rope and tie it to the gunnels! Give him something to cling to! If he misses it, we¡¯ll come back for the poor lad once we have Coronado!¡± He waited two more beats. ¡°Now, Mr. Dawson! Hard a-larboard!¡± They began the process of giving Lively what she wanted, turning the wheel to right her rudder and let her reorient herself in the water. The last challenge in a smuggler¡¯s turn was to get the ship back up to speed. Now that they were directly behind the Coronado, they too were at broad reach.


    But they were also just two or three degrees off from her stern.


    ¡°Weigh anchor! Weigh anchor!¡±


    ¡°Weigh anchor, aye!¡± Bartlett called, clambering down the deck to help reel in the anchor.


    ¡°Let fly! Lay aloft and loose topgallants! Clear away the jib! Clear away, clear away! We must avail ourselves of this wind, boys! Lively now!¡±


    The crew had known the plan, and the forward gunnery was ready with the single cannon primed and ready.


    ¡°Mr. Galloway, fire when ready! Aim true and be ready to reload if we miss with our first shot!¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain!¡± called the skinny little man at the prow, his hand resting easily on the shoulder of Hawkins, the lad manning the gun. ¡°Fire!¡±


    The nine-pounder thundered, and smoke plume prevented Vhingfrith from seeing past the bow, so he didn¡¯t know if they¡¯d hit. But by the looks of how fast Galloway had Hawkins were reloading, he didn¡¯t think so. ¡°Fire!¡±


    Second shot also missed, and now Coronado¡¯s ass end was looming large in front of them. Two shots were fired from her double stern guns, doubtlessly late because their gunnery hadn¡¯t foreseen this turnabout where Lively was suddenly behind them. One shot splashed into the water to starboard, but the other clipped Lively¡¯s mizzenmast.


    ¡°Mr. Galloway¡ª¡± Vhingfrith began.


    ¡°Reloading now, Captain¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fire! Fire straight up her arse! Fire now and hit the fucking¡ª¡±


    The forward gun thundered and a moment later he saw Galloway tear the handkerchief from his head and throw it into the air. ¡°She¡¯s hit, Cap¡¯n! Her rudder¡¯s hit! It¡¯s blown to bloody fuckin¡¯ flinders!¡±


    Vhingfrith grinned savagely. ¡°Fire again, Mr. Galloway! Try and hit those rear guns!¡±


    The Coronado tried turning. Now, the worms of doubt would start to burrow into the hearts of every man aboard that ship, as they realized there would soon be no way out. The Lively was gaining on them and there could be no avoiding a fight.


    ¡°Mr. Dawson, prepare to cut speed! Mr. Bartlett, Mr. Averill, we shall board her from the rear to remain clear of her broadside batteries! Major Halleck, Serjeant McCulloch, prepare your men for boarding action! For England!¡± He turned and looked northeast and smiled when he saw the Duke closing in fast, aiming to pass in front of Coronado with broadsides facing. Vhingfrith knew that soon they would move around to the Coronado¡¯s stern, so that Captain Rogers could attempt to rake the Spanish ship. To have an enemy¡¯s broadsides facing your stern was the most devastating position to be in.


    And without her rudder, Coronado was unable to steer to avoid being raked, only her blooming sails could carry her inexorably forward into peril. And though Lively had cut her own speed, she was still moving forward on her own momentum, prow aimed at her enemy¡¯s arse.


    ¡°Brace!¡± Vhingfrith ordered, just as Lively crashed and scraped along Coronado¡¯s backside.


    Men clung to rails and ropes until the scraping was over.


    Vhingfrith waited a beat before giving the order. He needed to see if Coronado¡¯s captain would see the dilemma he was in with the Duke, and wave a flag of surrender. But then Coronado¡¯s guns tried firing at the Duke.


    That¡¯s in, then. ¡°Board her! Board her!¡± he cried.


    The grappling hooks arced through the air, and most found a home on Coronado¡¯s railing. Old Charley swam a long, wide orbit around all three ships, those six bulbous eyes staring. Curious what this¡¯ll look like, eh, my friend?


    ¡°Board her!¡± he cried again. ¡°Board her!¡±


    The Lively¡¯s men surged, with the marines at the head of the charge, but the Spaniards were keen to remain offensive and several of them fired muskets down at the Lively¡¯s crew, while a dozen Spanish soldiers threw out their own ropes and slid down to Lively¡¯s deck. Vhingfrith drew cutlass and pistol. Behind him, Dawson abandoned the wheel and did the same. ¡°With me, Mr. Dawson?¡±


    ¡°With pleasure, Cap¡¯n.¡±


    ____


    Fuller fired the one pistol he had into the face of a Spanish soldier, then dropped it and came at the next one with his cutlass. The soldier¡¯s musket had misfired and so now the bayonet was his only hope. Fuller had never killed anyone, but he¡¯d learned how to stall for the marines. He and his mates came forward with cutlasses batting away the bayonets, pushing and shoving the soldiers, receiving a cut or thrust in the heaving throng. Fuller spat, and bit, and shoved, and kicked the shins of any man that so much as advanced on him.


    Then came the Royal Marines. Halleck sounded the whistle once, and every one of Lively¡¯s privateer crew dropped to the deck as the first marines knelt on a firing line and gunned down half a dozen Spaniards. Fuller leapt back to his feet alongside Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Averill, both of whom had slashes to their midsections. Averill had a hole in his leg from a lead ball.


    While some of the marines reloaded, others defended them with bayonets. Fuller ran forward, slashing at neck level, and he batted away every Spaniard he saw dumping gunpowder hastily into their rifle. He found a barrel full of salt, its top cracked and opened, damaged by cannonfire. He grabbed a handful and flung it into an enemy¡¯s face. Head-butted another. Kicked a man in the groin. Slashed a man¡¯s nose half off.


    Panting, he pushed forward. Then a blade found his side and was thankfully deflected by a rib. Someone punched him in the jaw, he heard one or two teeth crack.


    The whistle went up and he gladly hit the deck as Major Halleck¡¯s men let loose another salvo. Fuller staggered back to his feet, spat a gob of blood in a Spaniard¡¯s face, then received a thrust into his side, and this one made it between his ribs and went deep. ¡°Gak!¡± He sliced the forearm of the man who stabbed him, then staggered around on deck, bleeding, blinded by gunsmoke.


    Two soldiers advanced on Fuller with bayonets. He parried one, the other went into his thigh. He dropped, and saw the bayonet about to skewer him when Captain Vhingfrith came out of nowhere, along with Dawson, and collided with the two attackers. Vhingfrith parried two attacks, received a thrust to his shoulder, and someone else grabbed hold of his arm and wrenched the sword from his hand.


    Fuller roared as he leapt onto that man¡¯s back, pulling him away from the captain, who drew two pistols from the brace across his chest, cocked both, and fired one of them into the face of the man Fuller was holding. The Spaniard¡¯s brains and skull fragments went into Fuller¡¯s eyes, and he staggered backward against barrels of rum.


    Someone fired a shot that almost hit him, but smacked into the railing beside him, sending splinters into his neck.


    The Duke circled around the Coronado and fired, but her shots were all aimed at Coronado¡¯s masts and sails, tearing them to pieces, crippling her further. Splinters rained down on them all.


    The whistle went up. Halleck¡¯s men fired again.


    Men screamed in anger and in death. One Spaniard lay beside Fuller, trembling, looking up at the sky, blood flowing from a gash in his neck, eyes questing for an answer to something.


    Looking through the smoke, Fuller estimated they hadn¡¯t made it even halfway across the deck. He looked back at the soldier dying beside him and saw that he had a pistol strapped to his chest, unused. Fuller drew it from the holster, stood up, and ran forward, firing into the next Spaniard¡¯s chest.


    ¡°To the helm! Secure the helm!¡± Captain Vhingfrith ordered.


    On his way to the steps of the quarterdeck, Fuller saw three men rushing down at him, all with muskets. He was all ready to charge them when suddenly the sea rose beside him, black and solid, with seawater rippling down an onyx-black wall. The shower drenched them all, and a single dagger-like limb, as long as a horse, suddenly impaled two of the Spaniards at once, at an angle, starting from the belly of one, exiting his spine, and going up through the neck and skull of the second Spaniard.


    Charley had come up from the sea to join in.


    ¡°My God¡­¡± Fuller breathed.


    As the soldiers were lifted up, a similar limb reached out from Charley¡¯s belly, and skewered another soldier.


    As Charley lowered back into the sea, the sun returned, having been momentarily blocked by the Leviathan¡¯s body. And Fuller laughed. Lucky me. Lucky ol¡¯ Captain Vhingfrith. And lucky us¡ª


    The pronged tentacle suddenly snapped out of the sea like a whip, grabbed Fuller at the waist, squeezed, deployed even more prongs from within, filling his innards with so many blades they shoved his guts out of his face, eye sockets ejected to make room for the expulsion. It happened so fast his mind was left enough intact for a moment to feel a lurching sensation, like being lifted, and the coldness of the water as he was pulled down into enormous masticators. Fuller never felt the razor-sharp, gnashing teeth that ground him into mincemeat.


    ____


    The battle was almost over when Charley made his appearance. Only seven or eight men fell to his attack, but as the Leviathan swam back out to sea, the Spaniards seemed to finally lose what fight they had left in them. Benjamin hung on to the rail as the Le¨®n Coronado heeled, just as Lively had done in Charley¡¯s wake. And he watched, panting, bleeding from three punctures to his arms and a cut across his cheek, as Charley breached the surface, his whole body coming out of the water and revealing more facets, more limbs that split from his stomach, as though something inside was tearing its way out of him.


    Benjamin stared at where Fuller had been a moment ago. He¡¯d seen him running up the steps. He¡¯d seen the horror of Fuller¡¯s last moments. He¡¯d seen¡ª


    The Leviathan crashed back into the sea, dividing the water like Moses was said to have done. And when the water rushed back in to fill the void, both the Coronado, the Lively, and the Duke all sloshed around one another like toys in a child¡¯s bathtub, bumping and scraping one another for several moments before everything righted itself. Men were thrown about the decks like dolls. Some went overboard.


    ¡°We surrender!¡± shouted a white-wig-wearing Spaniard who came down the stairs, absolutely drenched, looking shocked and horrified by the day¡¯s events. He wore a captain¡¯s epaulette and coat. ¡°We surrender, per favor. Please¡­just¡­just¡­spare my men.¡±


    Vhingfrith looked over at Charley, reassuming his orbit around all three ships, this time farther out than ever. He blinked, looked over at Dawson, Halleck, and all the others. One marine was dead, and two of Lively¡¯s sailors. He walked over to the Le¨®n Coronado¡¯s captain, who held out his sabre in surrender.


    ¡°Per favor,¡± said the captain.


    Vhingfrith accepted it.


    ¡°It was cleverly done, mi amigo. Very cleverly done.¡±


    Vhingfrith sighed. He looked at the sword in his hand. He could hardly believe it was done. Years of hunting, of fighting, of doubting, of killing. And here in his hands was what it amounted to. He¡¯d read the words of wise men who said such victories often feel pale once attained. But that was not his experience. There had never been a moment like this in all the world. Few people must ever stand in such a moment. He turned to his crew, and raised the sabre in glory.


    The cheers were like the finest wine.


    He smiled. Then he looked over to the rail where Fuller had gone, and felt some of his cheer dissipate.


    ____


    The Duke was on the Coronado¡¯s port side now, gunports open and ready in case of a last-minute resistance. The Duke¡¯s starboardside guns were aimed south, to where Old Charley was now swimming off towards the horizon. Grappling hooks were thrown over to the Coronado and the Duke¡¯s crew worked to reel them in. Planks were set up so that Captain Rogers could walk across with his own marine contingent. Vhingfrith sat on a barrel, with Scarecrow tending a gash across the left side of his face, someone¡¯s sabre had gotten a little too close in the fracas and he wasn¡¯t entirely sure it hadn¡¯t been one of his own men swinging wildly and carelessly.


    ¡°This will have to do for now, my quarters took a hit from our friends¡¯ cannons,¡± said the surgeon, who took some milk freshly squeezed from the goat in their hold, and poured it lightly over Benjamin¡¯s wound, which he¡¯d gotten to stop bleeding by packing it with powder. ¡°All right, now here comes the needle.¡±


    Benjamin winced as the needle and thread were woven through his flesh. Before him, Mr. Averill saw to their prisoners, that is until Captain Rogers brought aboard his own first and second mates, who immediately took control over the matter.


    Limping up to him was Osterholm, just returned from the Coronado¡¯s lower holds. His smile had never looked finer. ¡°Tell me that smile is for me, Mr. Osterholm.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say at least three thousand ducats of silver, Captain. Plus spices, sugar, salt, pepper, some pearls in two separate chests marked for some noble in Madrid, lots of fine clothing, and aged wine. But that¡¯s not all. There¡¯s all sorts o¡¯ extra curios: a golden statue¡ªmaybe Mayan or Aztec, I¡¯m no scholar on that¡ªtwo chests of bullion, some emerald-encrusted sceptre, a golden crucifix as big as my leg.¡± He smiled wider. ¡°And there¡¯s gold and silver bars, Captain. Marked as coming from Peru. And pieces of eight.¡±


    ¡°How many pieces of eight, Mr. Osterholm?¡±


    The quartermaster doffed his bandana and wiped his brow, looking up at the sky like he was thanking God for this day. ¡°I can only estimate. As many trunks as I saw, though¡­hard to believe it¡¯s less than a hundred thousand.¡±


    Benjamin shot up so fast the thread was yanked from Scarecrow¡¯s hands. ¡°A hundred thousand pieces of eight?¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir. At least.¡± Osterholm shrugged. ¡°And then there¡¯s the ship. A Spanish galleon, taken a prize? Captain, there may not have been a catch like this since Drake¡¯s two hundred years ago.¡±


    Benjamin kept his composure. He clapped the Jew on his shoulder and smiled. ¡°Make a list, Mr. Osterholm. Everything documented, down to the last speck of gold. I want nothing missed. Take whatever men you need to help you organize. Then tell the men that each of them gets a double ration of rum tonight, and that they may sing, as long and as loud as they like throughout the night.¡±


    ¡°With pleasure, Captain.¡±


    Benjamin clasped his hands behind him to prevent anyone from seeing them wringing. He wanted to scream for joy.


    ¡°Captain?¡± said Tyndall.


    ¡°Mm? Oh, heavens, forgive me, Scarecrow.¡± He sat back down and allowed the surgeon to continue his work.


    A hundred thousand. A hundred thousand pieces of eight. Francis Drake himself never¡­


    His eyes flitted over to the stairs leading up to the quarterdeck, where Fuller had last stood. Aboard the Lively, the sounds of cheers and singing came wafting across. Benjamin ran a hand over two-day stubble, and looked south, towards Charley, who began a slow, slow easterly course change.


    ____


    ¡°I¡¯ll only ask this once, Benjamin,¡± said Rogers when they were alone in his cabin aboard the Duke. Down the hall, they heard a man screaming. One of his legs was being cut off just above the knee and cauterized with boiling tar. They had to speak above his wails. ¡°What is that creature? And did you communicate with it using some sort of occult signaling? And do you have any idea how to call it off?¡±


    The sun had set, it was now two hours past seven bells and it was evident they had entered another Long Night. If there was any doubt, there were only stars in the sky, no moon at all. The waters had gone eerily still and the winds had died down, making them becalmed. Stranded at sea, with no way to propel themselves. If it wasn¡¯t for the small cay appearing precisely where it ought to be, according to Vhingfrith¡¯s charts, then the crew might be fretting right now that they¡¯d entered an Altered Night, and would have to tide over for untold weeks.


    Vhingfrith stood across from Rogers, who sat behind his desk. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean, sir. And frankly, I¡¯m astonished by any accusation of¡ª¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean. It followed you. You. Not us, not the Duke. It followed the Lively, and for days. I watched you from afar, I saw myself how it joined in when we attacked the Coronado the first time, and I saw how it orbited your vessel like a moon for days, right up until this final assault.¡± Rogers rose from his seat slowly. He wore only a white shirt, untucked, and a pair of pants covered in someone else¡¯s blood. He paced to the rear windows and looked out at the Long Night. ¡°How long will this last?¡±


    ¡°You mean the night?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course, I mean the bloody night!¡±


    Down the companionway, the man was still screaming.


    ¡°Why are you asking me?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re the one with all the answers when it comes to the firmament.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just what men say because of what I¡¯ve written. You¡¯ve been in almost as many Long Nights as I have now, sir. You know as much as me.¡±


    ¡°Do I?¡±


    ¡°Captain Rogers, what brought you here? What are you asking? Speak plainly, please.¡±


    Rogers rounded on him, looking furious for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and recomposed himself. ¡°All right, let¡¯s go through this. Charley found us two days before we attacked the Le¨®n Coronado, and when we attacked her, he attacked also. Correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then he leads you to find this¡­what were their names? Swanson and Henley? And then Henley claims Swanson is some other creature coughed up from the firmament. Then Charley attacks the Spaniards again, this time raking their men off the deck, and taking your navigator with them. Accident?¡±


    At last, the amputee¡¯s screams ceased. That usually meant they had finally, mercifully, passed out.


    ¡°I cannot say for certain, sir.¡±


    Rogers paced. ¡°When we return to Port Royal, I¡¯ll want you speaking with the benandanti.¡±


    Vhingfrith was astonished. ¡°Those witches?¡±


    ¡°King George seems to believe they¡¯re useful. They¡¯re all the rage in London and elsewhere. Perhaps there¡¯s a reason. Perhaps they know something we don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say ol¡¯ Lucky George is any authority on the occult.¡±


    ¡°Have you spoken to Swanson?¡± Rogers asked, as though Vhingfrith hadn¡¯t commented.


    ¡°Not since before the attack on Coronado, no.¡±


    Rogers scratched his chin irritably. ¡°I want to see him.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not speaking, Captain. Hardly even moving.¡±


    ¡°Still, I want to see him.¡±


    Vhingfrith sighed. ¡°If it will ease your mind. But afterwards, we must select someone to captain and crew the Le¨®n Coronado back to Port Royal.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I already have thoughts on the matter.¡±


    ____


    There was unmistakable tension from the crew of the Duke as the two captains crossed the planks to the Lively. The waters were calm, but there was the sound of loud clapping¡ªthe sound of Old Charley clapping against the waters in the east. Vhingfrith alone could see the Leviathan rolling in the waters, and he knew that if anyone else could see, it might cause a stir of fear.


    Lively¡¯s crew also appeared unnerved when the two captains descended to the forecastle, carrying their lanterns past the men of second watch sleeping lightly in their hammocks, and approaching the cook¡¯s quarters. The two marines saluted Captain Rogers, whose noble birth made his military rank above theirs even if he weren¡¯t a ship¡¯s captain, and then stepped aside to admit the two captains.


    Swanson sat in darkness in Maxwell¡¯s bed, back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. But for a loincloth, he was naked, and his flesh appeared pale even when Vhingfrith¡¯s lanternlight moved over him.


    ¡°That a birthmark?¡± Rogers said, leaning down to examine Swanson¡¯s face.


    ¡°Yes. Henley said he¡¯s always had it, only it used to be on the other side of his face.¡±


    ¡°Used to be?¡±


    Vhingfrith hesitated a moment, conscious that they were talking about the boy like he wasn¡¯t in the room. ¡°Before he swam below the water to find the sandbar, the birthmark was on the other side of his face. That¡¯s what Henley claims, sir.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with his eyes?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ve been bloodshot like that since we brought him on board. I imagine it¡¯s due to lack of sleep. The guards say he rarely ever¡ª¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not bloodshot. They¡¯re like yours.¡±


    Vhingfrith squinted. ¡°Come again?¡±


    ¡°Take a look.¡± Rogers stepped back from Swanson but kept his lantern close to the boy¡¯s face.


    Benjamin bent to examine the eyes, and, had Captain Rogers not been there, he might have gasped. But Benjamin had to play it down, for what he saw could threaten to undue the gestalt of the Lively¡¯s crew. Swanson¡¯s eyes were perfectly ordinary except for an odd shimmer deep within, somewhat more pronounced than Benjamin¡¯s own cat¡¯s-eye, but Captain Rogers was right to say they looked the same. Benjamin had seen his cat¡¯s-eye in mirrors, it used to make him self-conscious until his mother said it meant he was blessed, marked by God for great things.


    ¡°There is a passing resemblance, I won¡¯t deny.¡±


    ¡°Resemblance?¡± Rogers scoffed. ¡°Passing?¡±


    Vhingfrith straightened. He knew how this looked. A moment ago, Rogers was all but ready to suggest some sort of connection between the Devil¡¯s Son and Old Charley. The Long Night had him rattled, just as it had rattled him after the Cataclysm. It was up to Vhingfrith to ensure sanity prevailed. ¡°The boy was born with a strange birthmark. It could be he had other defects that have only just begun to surface. It happens. The first doctor I ever conferred with on the matter said that he encountered a man in India with a cat¡¯s-eye, said it came and went, until at last the man¡¯s vision became blurrier by the day, and finally he went blind.¡± He shrugged. ¡°There are many ailments men suffer under God¡¯s wrathful eye that we cannot make head or tails of, Captain.¡±


    Rogers stared at Ben. He seemed unconvinced. Then he leaned over to Swanson and snapped his fingers in front of his face. ¡°Mr. Swanson? My name is Woodes Rogers, I am captain of the man o¡¯ war Duke. I have some questions I would like to ask you. Can you hear me?¡±


    Swanson said nothing.


    ¡°What happened to you during the Altered Night? When you went underwater, did you see anything? Anything unusual?


    Swanson said nothing. His lower lip twitched, and a runnel of drool fell from the edge of his mouth.


    ¡°Mr. Swanson, you are here aboard the Lively by the generosity of her captain here. This man here, Captain Vhignfrith. Do you know him?¡±


    Vhingfrith noticed the wording of the question. Is he asking the boy if he remembers whose ship he¡¯s on? Or is he asking if the creature before us somehow ¡°knows¡± me in other ways? The benandanti were fashionable these days, two or three were in Port Royal, and a dozen were in Nassau, all talking about some Disease passing through all of England, some parts of Spain and France and the Colonies, as well. They spoke of bodies turned to pudding and porridge once they died, so much that these large puddles ran together in the streets, forming something called the Tam, which was highly flammable and toxic. Barrels of the stuff were being poured into rivers and thrown out to sea, it was said. Such talk had caused the upper-class intellectuals of Port Royal to speculate at parties, inviting benandanti and other soothsayers who claimed to know how to palm read, hold s¨¦ance, and commune with the spirit world.


    But no one, not even the erudite of the Church, had been able to qualify what was going on. The articles Benjamin had read spoke of the Black Death, the plague that ravaged all of Eurasia some four hundred years ago, and how the evil humours that spurned that plague may have returned, even angrier, when God chose to punish Man for his manifold blasphemies.


    Woodes Rogers read the same papers in Port Royal, those papers having been written by what passed for journalists in Jamaica, and who were only rewriting the rumours they heard from sailors returning from England and the Colonies. Ambassadors were said to have been sent from Spain, France, and even China, to meet with King George and relay messages back to the rulers of those other countries, so that the leaders of the world could swap theories about what was taking place, theories about the firmament that they had gathered from their own scholars.


    Vhingfrith¡¯s own writings on his experiences in the Long Night, and his use of the word firmament, had seen print, partially because of Rogers himself, who now seemed to be developing a theory of his own. He¡¯s wondering if I¡¯m a Judas, or some Jonah sent to curse the land. But I don¡¯t believe he¡¯s convinced that I¡¯m aware of my status as a cursed man. He thinks I may be cursed and yet unaware that I am cursed.


    Rogers kept snapping his fingers in Swanson¡¯s face, even gave him a light tap on the cheek. ¡°Mr. Swanson? Mr. Swanson! Fucking dimwit. Is your name Swanson or isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Woodes. Forget about him for now. He hasn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Suddenly, a voice filled the room. ¡°Nuntius maximus non est.¡± Swanson¡¯s lips moved in time with each syllable, and his twin cat¡¯s-eyes glared over at the two men. The voice leapt from his chest, from the timbers in the walls and floor, from the air, and it reeked of death. Vhingfrith backpedaled from that stench. Rogers bent over and retched his supper out. The two marines standing in the doorway covered their noses and backed away, both gagging.


    Vhingfrith plunged one hand into his jacket pocket until he pulled out a handkerchief to put over his mouth. It did little good. The putrid smell was that of corpses baking in the hot sun, of bilges filled with human waste, of a goat¡¯s guts spilled on the road and trampled for days.


    Rogers vomited again, and covered his nose with his sleeve. ¡°God! What is that stench?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°What¡­what did he say?¡±


    Vhingfrith coughed, but kept his gaze on Swanson, whose flesh rippled and undulated, as though he had an eel swimming between his flesh and bones. Vhingfrith¡¯s head was hurting. The voice had been grating, somehow rattling his inner ear, squeezing tympanic nerve and cochlea and all, it felt like. It made him dizzy. He had once had both his ears clapped in a fight with a boy who was a slave on his father¡¯s plantation, and he had felt so dizzy that he had almost passed out. This felt like that. ¡°He said¡­¡± Vhingfrith gagged, but kept himself from retching as Rogers had. ¡°He said, ¡®The messenger is not important.¡¯ If it was Latin, that is. And if I heard him correctly.¡±


    ¡°Latin is the root of all your languages, is it not?¡± said the voice. Again, Swanson¡¯s lips moved in time to the syllables, but his voice came from the oak timbers, from Vhingfrith¡¯s clothing, from the air, it rattled his teeth and made them feel brittle, and his eardrums felt squeezed to the point of bursting. The voice wasn¡¯t even loud, in fact it was spoken quite softly. And yet.


    ¡°What do you mean, Swanson?¡± Rogers asked, yellow-faced but suddenly fascinated. ¡°The root of languages?¡±


    ¡°Everything is so soft here,¡± Swanson said, and Vhingfrith¡¯s eyes watered from the pain. ¡°The hard things are the dead things. The dead wood of these walls. The rocks beneath the sea. The hard things are the dead things. All the living things are soft.¡±


    ¡°Swanson¡ª?¡±


    Vhingfrith staggered towards the door. ¡°You¡¯re not speaking to Swanson. Get out! For the love of God, Rogers, get the fuck out!¡±


    ¡°Why are all the living things soft?¡± the voice in the timbers said.


    Rogers collapsed to his knees. He started weeping. The voice was killing him.


    ¡°Why are all the living things¡ª¡±


    Vhingfrith grabbed Rogers by his collar¡ª


    ¡°¡ªso soft? That seems backwards to us. Does it not seem backwards to you?¡±


    ¡ªand hauled him to his feet and threw him out of the room just before they both passed out.


    Vhingfrith was in darkness. He saw himself back in John¡¯s room in The Dashing Inn. Felt the dirty sheets around his legs, smelled John¡¯s hair, felt John¡¯s head on his chest. Munt was there, telling him it was time to go soon. And there was a creature, hidden behind a caul of black mist, swirling around somewhere underneath the bed. He knew it was there. Somehow he just knew¡ª


    He awoke moments later, the two marines standing over him and lightly tapping his face. Scarecrow was waving smelling salts underneath Vhingfrith¡¯s nose. He gasped and slapped Scarecrow away and scrambled to his feet, having to use the wall for support. They were in the captain¡¯s cabin, Vhingfrith¡¯s eyes were hurting and blurry. It was dark in here, but his cat¡¯s-eye allowed him to see Rogers lying on the floor, sitting up, his back propped against the wall. Serjeant McCulloch was also in the room, seeing to his two ashen-faced marines. Blood was coming out of one of their ears, and the lad kept saying, ¡°I can¡¯t hear¡­I can¡¯t hear, Serjeant¡­¡±


    ¡°Get him out of here,¡± Vhingfrith croaked, his throat dry as sand. ¡°Get him off my ship!¡±


    ¡°Captain?¡± said Scarecrow. ¡°What do you¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Swanson. Clap that boy in irons, tie him in chains and cannon shot, and throw him into the goddamned sea.¡±


    ¡°He blasphemes!¡± Rogers barked from across the room.


    ¡°Get the man off my ship,¡± John said, ignoring him. ¡°Let our guests from the firmament take back their agent.¡±


    ¡°Their agent?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s an agent! Their spy! Or I¡¯m no judge! I don¡¯t know what it all means but I feel it in my bones, Scarecrow! Just bloody do it!¡±


    He heard splashing, like in his dream. He looked out the back windows and saw Charley out there, splashing in their wake. Lively heeled as the Leviathan shot around them. ¡°Tell Dawson¡­get us back to Royal. With all speed. Tighter sleeping shifts. No man sleeps more than four hours at a time until we get there.¡±


    Scarecrow said, ¡°Captain, sorry to tell you, but we¡¯re still becalmed. No wind. We cannot move.¡±


    Vhingfrith touched his head, which was pounding. He could still smell the filth of Swanson¡¯s breath, and his ears rang with the echoes of his stomach-churning words. He wanted nothing more than to protect his men, to protect the Lively and the Duke. Fear rose fast in his chest, and he worried he had somehow failed them all already.


    ¡°Then have both ships¡­beat to quarters. Be ready to kill fucking Charley if he so much as grazes one of us. The Long Night is our enemy, and everything in it. Trust nothing and no one.¡±


    Rogers moaned from the other side of the room, ¡°Fucking¡­agreed. And while we¡¯re at it¡­Serjeant McCulloch?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Captain Rogers?¡±


    Rogers pointed at Vhingfrith. ¡°Clap that man in irons, as well.¡±


    Vhingfrith was astonished. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Benjamin, but the bastard shares your eyes and the rumour is now running rampant through both our crews. Right now, that kind of coincidence merits precaution, but I promise you, you will receive adequate defence when brought before the Admiralty Court, and I myself will act as a witness to your character¡ª¡±


    ¡°Woodes, you¡¯re panicking. You cannot¡ª¡±


    ¡°I said clap him in irons! I¡¯m sorry for this, Ben¡ª¡±


    ¡°You sent me out here to help you and you were waiting for an excuse to remove me and take all credit!¡± Now it was Benjamin who was panicking. He saw the looks of confusion and fear on the marines¡¯ faces. ¡°Now you create this calumny about me¡­which could send me to my death!¡±


    Rogers glared at him. ¡°I told you, you will be well represented in court.¡±


    Benjamin spat at him. ¡°This calumny will not stand! Rogers, you bastard, is this what you wanted from the outset? Is this where all this was all along? You killed John! You killed him and you used me to fetch you the Coronado! You want all my shares of the treasure? That it?¡±


    ¡°Silence him!¡±


    ¡°This is my ship¡ª¡±


    ¡°Silence him, I said!¡±


    ¡°¡ªthis is my ship and this won¡¯t fucking stand!¡±


    Hands seized him.


    Benjamin spat at Rogers again. ¡°You fucking¡ª¡±


    Something hard hit the back of his head. Something with an edge. He hit the deck and his vision went blurry. ¡°No!¡± Rogers shouted. ¡°Just hang on now, he¡¯s not resisting anym¡ª¡±


    Benjamin tried to lift his head. It felt both heavy and light. Moving it created blurry trails around the furniture in the room. He closed his eyes and thought he saw his father gazing at him reproachfully. Behind him stood Toby. And Lawrence Burr.


    Always assume it will get worse, they said.

 Chapter 36: The Kind of Doom Only the Sea Brings

    scuttlebutt ¨C A cask of drinking water. Also, slang for gossip, often shared around the scuttlebutt.


    TWO MEN OF the Hazard had a disagreement and now wanted to kill each other. The island they chose to do this on was Naresqu¨ª Island, which was convenient because that was exactly where Captain Laurier was headed anyway. He sat now on a tree stump, with a cloak pulled over him and his sword laid across his lap like a scepter. But for a crown, he appeared to be a king overseeing a ceremony.


    The crew had gathered down by the beach. John could see them all from here, circling the two combatants¡ªa tall fellow named Fenton and a brawny one named¡­Mitchell? Morgan? He could not remember and did not try. The headache and fever dominated almost all thoughts. Belmont¡¯s ministrations had helped but it now seemed as if it was all up to the Ladyman now. John had Okoa as his constant attendant, never standing too far away in case he needed anything.


    The two men were given sabres by Jaime, and two pistols, primed and loaded, from Jenkins. Fenton and the other fellow faced each other, then went back-to-back. Akil and the Africans all stood a good distance away but their focus was fixed on the proceedings¡ªthey had never witnessed a duel before. The sun was out in full glory and the wind was brisk.


    As good a day as any to die, I reckon.


    Pain seized his right arm, and clawed hand, wrapped in a sling, spasmed wicked for a moment before it finally settled. John ground his teeth until the tension fully released.


    The two duelists took their ten paces, turned, and took careful aim at each other. After a few breaths, Jenkins called out, ¡°Fire!¡± Both men fired at once. Fenton nicked the one fellow¡­Madison? Matthews? But it was to his left arm. And that fellow missed his shot entirely, but had enough gumption to draw his sabre and charge. Fenton¡¯s blade met his and they circled one another as men looked on silently. It was not meet that a pirate ought to cheer on either combatant, only observe and jeer if anyone broke any of the rules of the duel.


    Movement from behind. It was Okoa hopping over on his crutch. ¡°Dobbs and Anne return, Captain. They say the natives are all gone. Must have sailed away to the other island when they see us coming.¡± Okoa was referring to another distant island along the archipelago. The natives here rowed canoes from island to island throughout the year, fishing the shoals with nets and spears.


    ¡°They¡¯re certain?¡± he said.


    ¡°Yes, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s good news at least. Our food stores?¡±


    ¡°Low at the moment.¡± Okoa shrugged. They had had to sail with few supplies to make room for all of Bateria de la Lanza¡¯s treasure. Even the bilge was packed to bursting. The plan had been to sail away, bury the treasure in key places as they went along, and collect food from those places. ¡°I¡¯ve sent some men to hunt. There are monkeys here, and signs of wild boar.¡±


    ¡°Outstanding, Okoa. And what about the treasure?¡±


    ¡°They bury the chests you give them.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± The others got to choose what to do with their shares. Predictably, they wanted to bring them all with them to Nassau or Port Royal. But like any pirate John knew the safest thing was to bury his treasure and use it like a bank, only taking as much as he needed to keep going. That way, if his ship was ever sunk or seized, his treasure would not vanish along with it. ¡°Tell them they both get an extra ration of rum tonight.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Captain. Don¡¯t forget to drink tea.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Thank you, old friend. And¡­how many sick?¡± He dreaded the answer.


    ¡°Five, Captain,¡± Okoa said solemnly.


    ¡°Damn. Damn, damn, damn.¡± He looked to the far end of the beach where a tent had been set up for the sick. ¡°That means it¡¯ll likely spread. We can¡¯t bring them with us.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Captain.¡±


    ¡°What is it? Scurvy, King¡¯s evil, what?¡±


    Okoa shrugged. ¡°Ship¡¯s fever, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Did you speak to Belmont?¡±


    ¡°Captain Belmont say he never been around men with scurvy, but he say there is a belief among some in England it is caused by some deficiency, and that it can be treated, eh¡­well, here he comes now.¡± Okoa waved to the former militiaman who came wandering up the shoreline with his red coat pulled on. It was chilly these days, no matter the time of the year, no matter how much the sun was out. Captain Belmont had been the closest thing the ship had to a physiker, and had been tending to Laurier¡¯s Corrupted hand. Now he sort of watched dejectedly on as the two pirates fought to the death on the beach, swords clanging. ¡°Captain Belmont!¡± Okoa called, and waved him over.


    Belmont came walking up to the two of them. ¡°Captain Laurier, Mr. Okoa, what is it?¡±


    ¡°Okoa says it may be scurvy that has us,¡± John said.


    Belmont sighed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. ¡°Two of the men who are sick have loose teeth, and blackening skin. That¡¯s usually a sign of scurvy, the way I understand it?¡±


    John nodded. ¡°It is. But Okoa says you may know a remedy?¡±


    ¡°If you can call it that. Vegetables. Maybe fruit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°A doctor I trained under once told me, ¡®There exists a je ne sais quoi in the framework of the human body, and it cannot be preserved without fruits and vegetables.¡¯ He¡¯d read reports from other physicians that ¡®Man is meant for land¡¯ and that it be ¡®the only physic¡¯ for scurvy. He says since scurvy only seems to happen at sea, where there can be no fruits or vegetables taken to sea¡ªat least, none that won¡¯t quickly rot¡ªthen it must be that they are the key.¡±


    ¡°Fruits and vegetables. You want me to treat scurvy with fruits and vegetables.¡±


    ¡°I did not say how to treat it, Captain Laurier, only that some believe it will work. But the other three sickly men¡­I believe they have something else. Ship¡¯s fever, almost certainly. I have no physic for that, Captain.¡±


    John nodded thoughtfully, and with a flick of his one good hand he dismissed the militiaman. ¡°Damn. Bloody fucking hell.¡± He sighed. ¡°If it isn¡¯t one thing¡­¡±


    Okoa turned to leave. Down on the beach Fenton and the other fellow were still testing one another¡¯s defences. Laurier could already see who would win. Fenton¡¯s guard is too low, he needs to keep his tip pointed at his opponent¡¯s eyes so the opponent cannot tell how long the blade is.


    ¡°Wait, Okoa. Before you go, tell me, what¡¯s the scuttlebutt?¡±


    Okoa sighed and slowly lowered himself onto a rock beside the tree stump John sat upon. ¡°They still trust you, Captain. It was a magnificent thing, the fortress. But they not like that hand of yours. Belmont say to them, ¡®Captain is no demon, it is only some strange malady.¡¯ But they not care.¡±


    ¡°Because they¡¯re seamen,¡± Laurier said, reaching with his left hand to massage his right shoulder. ¡°And seamen are superstitious.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But do they have faith in me? Will they still follow me through what must be done next?¡±


    Okoa did not have to think. ¡°They will, Captain. They have faith in the Ladyman. I hear them say, ¡®The Ladyman can do anything he wants, and we invincible at his side.¡¯ ¡±


    Laurier glanced at him. ¡°They really say that? Or are you trying to make me feel better?¡±


    ¡°No, Captain. I have never seen a crew so strong. Not ever. What you did at the fortress¡ªit make them feel invincible.¡± He looked at the two men fighting. ¡°Pirates always looking for proof that they made the right decision in leaving their homes. I think, maybe for first time, you gave them that.¡±


    The Ladyman nodded. ¡°I hope that they can hold it in their hearts.¡±


    Up from the beach came the Frenchman, barefooted and panting.


    ¡°You¡¯re not watching the fight?¡± John asked.


    LaCroix waved his hand. ¡°You see one death, you¡¯ve seen them all. We¡¯ve got another problem.¡±


    John sighed. ¡°Beetles?¡±


    ¡°Deathwatch beetles, yes.¡±


    ¡°Bloody hell. Where?¡±


    ¡°In the planks near the prow, Capitaine. Found some more in the starboard railing. Also Patterson was right, there¡¯s wood fungus in the galley.¡±


    ¡°Cut it out. All of it. Now.¡±


    ¡°Oui, Capitaine.¡± With a flamboyant bow LaCroix walked back to the beach.


    ¡°Deathwatch beetles and damned fungus. Must¡¯ve picked it up in Panam¨¢, someone brought it with them aboard by accident, on their boots or in the cargo.¡± The fungus could eat through the oak until was soft and mushy. Some ships had been so plagued, and their captains so foolish as to neglect the fungus¡¯s removal that, that the ships had snapped in half while at sea and sunk with few survivors.


    John looked at his Corrupted hand and realized that Panam¨¢ had cost them more than they¡¯d reckoned. A curse was following them, evidenced by the two dueling crewmen on the beach. They¡¯ll just be the first of the fracturing, if we don¡¯t get to Nassau soon and get some new blood.


    ¡°It will be all right, Captain,¡± said Okoa. Apparently he sensed the Ladyman¡¯s mood.


    ¡°Will it? Ship¡¯s fever? Scurvy. Fungus. A ship lousy with beetles. And the crewmen fighting. This bloody fucking hand.¡± He looked down at it. ¡°If things keep on the way they¡¯ve¡ª¡±


    The sun was suddenly doused. It happened so quickly it made everyone on the beach gasp and cry out. John sat in stunned awe. Darkness fell on them, the stars spun above them, and it became cold. It happened all at once¡ªone moment the sun was shining brightly overhead, and the next it was doused like a flame before God¡¯s breath. Men on the beach started yelling. Someone even cheered, ¡°The Long Night is here! The Long Night is here!¡± and shot his pistol in the air and started dancing.


    There were clouds in the east, which had been there before the sun was doused, and they remained right where they were, moving sluggishly. But a green light emanated from behind them, and once they had moved on John let out a curse.


    ¡°Captain¡­¡± Okoa breathed.


    John stood up and looked at their new moon.


    It was a shattered half-sphere, like a giant green boulder someone had shot with a cannon. In fact, that was exactly what Roche Brasiliano said when he came running out of the jungle. ¡°It look like it shot by cannon, Captain!¡± John could not argue with him, nor could he blame the men down on the beach who started arguing in consternation. Fenton and his opponent had suspended their fight and gawked with the others.


    ¡°Captain?¡± Okoa said.


    ¡°The firmament is acting up again, my friend. That is all the wisdom I can give you.¡± After a few moments, he said, ¡°Get the men working on those planks. Can¡¯t have deathwatch beetles riding with us all the way to Nassau.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain.¡±


    The Hazard¡¯s crew stood facing the Long Night, watching the debris around the green half-moon slowly spread. It was like watching chunks of rock fall slowly through dark water. The stars were moving but not at breakneck speeds. He did not recognize a single star, he could not find any familiar constellations. John thought about Benjamin¡¯s theory that the Universe was filled with many suns and many worlds, and that each time they were displaced, they were transported to a different part of the Universe, temporarily switching places with some other planet. If that¡¯s true then right now we have that planet¡¯s moon, and it has ours.


    ¡°Captain!¡±


    Laurier swung to find Dobbs running over to him. ¡°Dobbs? What is it?¡±


    ¡°There, Captain! A ship!¡±


    Laurier looked west where he was pointing. There were lights in the far distance, near the dark horizon. Many lights. If he had to guess it was a large galleon that had been heading this way and was just as surprised as they were by the suddenness of the sun¡¯s disappearance. Her crew must have been ordered to light lanterns and torches all along her railing¡ªfor what purpose Laurier could not fathom. Sudden fear of darkness, perhaps? Their eyes would not have had time to adjust to the dark the way men¡¯s eyes naturally do as night approaches.


    ¡°Okoa?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Captain?¡±


    ¡°Tell the men to ready the boats. We¡¯re returning to the Hazard. We¡¯re done here.¡±


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Aye, Captain. And what about them?¡± He pointed to Fenton and his opponent, who had now resumed their fight.


    The Ladyman grunted and laughed. ¡°Let them live and die as they choose. Yo-ho.¡±


    ¡°Yo-ho, Captain.¡±


    ____


    They ran from the unknown ship for several hours. Whether it was trying to hunt them or simply communicate with them, they never knew, and did not wish to find out. So, they sailed on, into the Long Night.


    The exploded green moon fascinated the men. They hung out on the railing and stared up at the huge chunks of rock and named them. But soon hard angry clouds rolled in and blanketed the shattered moon, and the men listened at the thunder.


    ¡°Aloft you go!¡± shouted Okoa at the waist. ¡°Reefing needs done! Before the winds hit us!¡±


    Meanwhile, in his cabin, John Laurier down a cup of the special tea Belmont had made, and took up his cutlass in his Corrupted hand and made a few practice swings. He was still a little disoriented from the loss of blood, but after clearing some space in his cabin he was able to begin some simple footwork drills. He had the book The Flower of Battle open on his desk, going through Fiore¡¯s one-handed weapon work. Fiore de¡¯i Liberi had been a genius with blades of all sizes and was practically a chess master when it came to fighting tactics. John had long ago been introduced to Fiore¡¯s works by his own father, back when Benedict Laurier had believed fencing school would give his son discipline and reinforce masculinity.


    The training began with crisscrossing footwork drills, then followed focus drills to help the eye and the wrist target the exact same spot every time. Fiore¡¯s treatise was over three hundred years old and yet still his were the seminal works of close combat. John went into basic wrist exercises to retrain his Corrupted hand, then worked in spada a dui mani, the use of the sword in two hands.


    John became sweaty with the effort, trying out his Corrupted hand, which, while feeling strange and at times made him feel like a grotesquery¡ªeven monstrous¡ªastonished him with its precision and fluidity of movement. John alternated right to left, and experimented Fiore¡¯s studies on daga (dagger) techniques and grappling defences. The training was invigorating, and he even invited Anne Bonny in for some light sparring.


    ¡°You know,¡± he told her by candlelight, lowering himself into a stance and aiming the tip of his blade at her chest, ¡°I am no longer afraid of the Long Night. How about you, Anne?¡±


    Bonny had a dagger in her left hand and a sabre in her right. Her stance was even lower, with a slight defensive lean away from his weapon. She gave his blade a few testing swipes with hers. ¡°I don¡¯t know about afraid, Cap¡¯n, but I don¡¯t trust it, and don¡¯t think it¡¯s going away, not anytime soon.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± she said, and batted his blade away and side-stepped his riposte. She smiled at him. ¡°But I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the end o¡¯ the bloody world, either.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°You first. Why aren¡¯t you afraid?¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± the Ladyman said, push-stepping forward and parrying her strike before he poked her left arm and backed away. The ship heeled heavily and groaned. They both fought for balance. Outside, there came a crack of thunder. ¡°A man once told me this would happen. I didn¡¯t know what to make of it at the time, but now I realize this was always coming.¡±


    ¡°A man told you the Long Night would come? What man?¡±


    ¡°If I said Edward Teach, would you believe me?¡±


    ¡°I know you served with Blackbeard. Didn¡¯t know you two were close.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t say we were close, but he was a talkative man, a right wordsmith at times, in fact¡ªgah!¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡± She had slipped in with a gissard and nicked his wrist.


    ¡°Quite all right. Suppose I had it coming.¡± He backed up to the center of the room and lowered himself back into his stance.


    ¡°Captain?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Anne?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that hand o¡¯ yours?¡±


    John looked down at the grotesquery in its sling. ¡°Why? Does it scare you?¡±


    ¡°More than the Long Night, aye.¡±


    They both looked at each other.


    ¡°Captain?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Where are we off to next?¡±


    He straightened. ¡°You really want to know? You¡¯re usually not so demanding.¡±


    ¡°I know it seems like I¡¯ve always just been along for the right, and I s¡¯ppose I have been for the most part, but this time I would really like to know. What are you doing all this for? What¡¯s it all about?¡±


    John took a deep breath, and resumed his fighting stance. He brought his blade up to meet hers. The blades kissed. ¡°I¡¯m securing enough funds to buy a diving bell, and enough pirates to haul a monstrous treasure out of the sea.¡±


    Anne looked at him, eyes narrowing, trying to figure him out.


    John cracked a smile first, and then came at her.


    ____


    The storm rolled in fast and the Hazard heeled hard. Dobbs clambered up the ratlines, foot planted on the futtock shrouds as he made for the topmast. He moved up past the mainyard, his mind briefly recalling the man he¡¯d seen hung there in his first week aboard the Hazard. Man named Thomas, caught stealing and trying to blame others. Man like that could not be suffered to live.


    The sloop-of-war heeled again, this time hard, and Dobbs looked down at the dark waves, lit only by the occasional flash of lightning or a peek of that shattered green moon. Dobbs passed the lubber hole, called such because only cowardly landlubbers went the safe route. You wanted the men to respect you, you went the fast route, climbing the ropes and the netting until you came to rest on the futtocks higher up. Seventy feet in the air, he straddled the giant wood beam and clenched hard with his thighs, reeling in the piece of sail the wind had whipped loose. Rain slapped his face, thunder muffle the voices of the men shouting at him from below, and the wind stole his breath by forcing the air down his throat. He had to turn his head from the wind just to breathe.


    He growled against the storm¡¯s fury. Every drop of rain was a blade in his face and bare legs, he could hardly open his eyes. He had to feel his way with the sails, he must keep enough canvas reefed to propel the ship away from the rocks ahead, yet not so much to capsize them.


    The job done, he climbed a quarter of the way down and clung to the mast. Because now a giant wave smashed into Hazard¡¯s port side and she heeled to starboard, and if he continued to climb down he might slip and fall. Better to hang on and wait till Hazard righted herself. While hanging on, Dobbs¡¯s eye spotted another ship, perhaps three hundred yards away, mounting a tall wave and fighting her own battle across the sea. Lightning revealed little details, but he was sure it had been following them.


    Finally it was safe to come down, and the men received him with pats on the back. ¡°Atta lad! Good boy!¡± they all said.


    But the storm wore on. Waves knocked a barrel of wine overboard. A few pulleys for the foresails broke. LaCroix and a carpenter named Lloyd scrambled to repair them. Captain Laurier trudged down to the bilge to help pump water out, then went aloft again to help lower a broken yard. The men¡¯s eyes were never far from his Corrupted hand, always watching it, and Dobbs had to admit it worried him, as well.


    Later, Dobbs spotted the Ladyman at the steering, lending his one good hand to Okoa, who was fighting the wheel. Beside Dobbs, a man with no pants named Roderick vomited. Roderick¡¯s pants were missing because he¡¯d had diarrhea all day. He wasn¡¯t the only one. Dobbs had started to feel sick just before the storm, and was afraid he had ship¡¯s fever, as well.


    He pushed the fear from his mind and fought his way up to the quarterdeck. ¡°Captain! A ship, sir! She¡¯s still following us!¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    He pointed. ¡°Three hundred yards out, abaft us!¡±


    ¡°You heard the man, Okoa!¡± Pale-faced, ragged, but with embers in his eyes, the Ladyman pulled the wheel the other direction. ¡°Make distance while we can!¡± He clambered down from the quarterdeck, and to the crew he shouted, ¡°Sway the foreyard up and set the foresail!¡±


    They executed a jibe, swinging the ship¡¯s bow away from the wind in order to turn her.


    The storm batted them around like a toy, but in time they finagled her. One man had fallen into the water, lost in the spume, but he had been one of the men deathly ill and everyone wondered if he¡¯d done it on purpose. When the storm had eased, they were alone on the sea, but the Long Night stretched on.


    ____


    The mystery ship found them again. It was the shattered moon¡¯s bright green light giving them away, it had to be. The ship continued chasing them throughout the Long Night, from one isle to the next, along a hundred miles of cays and across another hundred miles of open sea, sometimes losing them due to winds or currents.


    The Hazard¡¯s crew kept sailing.


    Once, John ordered them into another long row of cays, stretching dozens of miles, and they sailed into an inlet and reeled in all sails and even disassembled their masts so that any ship passing on the other side of the island would not see them. Dobbs led a team ashore in a lifeboat and they climbed to the top of one of three hills. After a few hours, Dobbs¡¯s team signaled from the hill, using a small lantern. The signal said the ship had passed.


    John ordered the masts erected again and the sails bloomed and they came out of hiding. The mystery ship sailed northwest, the Hazard went east.


    ____


    Lumen Island had once had aspirations of being an island seaport like Port Royal or Nassau, and while its bountiful lands made terrific soil for sugarcane fields, its remoteness made the island far too difficult to protect. When the French owned it, the Spanish had invaded easily, but the Spanish had not been able to fully reinforce it, so the British took it. Then the French took it back, and then the British, then back to the Spanish. Ultimately it was owned by everyone and no one at the same time, and its people were as diverse as those in Royal.


    The Hazard moored away from shore, and did not fly the yellow flag of plague like they ought. The sick rowed themselves to shore on their own, then Captain Laurier followed them on a boat of six healthy men. They had expected to have to argue with port masters that would try and turn them away, but they were met with an almost silent village. The Long Night had stretched on, yet almost no lanterns were lit. The village was dark and silent as death.


    A fever had struck here, too, one similar to the one the Hazard¡¯s lads had. Vomiting, fever, diarrhea, bursting blood vessels. Which all led to delirium, men and women reaching at illusory objects in the air.


    There was a hospital, and John tried to pay the nurses and the island only doctor for space for his men. But the doctor, a stooped fellow missing two fingers and who reminded him of Abner, said, ¡°We¡¯re all full. You can keep your money. There¡¯s no space for anyone here.¡±


    John soon learned that the sick numbered more than a hundred, and most were holed up in the island¡¯s only tavern. Liquor was given to them when medicine ran out. John sat outside the tavern for hours on end, listening to the hacking and coughing and men wheezing their last breaths. He spoke to Okoa and discovered two of the healthier men had run off, not even interested in their half of the treasure. ¡°Before they left, one of them mentioned to Dobbs and Akil that the Hazard is cursed, just like her captain,¡± said Okoa.


    ____


    Akil had never seen plague like this, it burned through all the white men like fire and only one of the African crew became sick, but his vomiting was done within a few hours and he now seemed fully recovered. He walked Lumen Island, sometimes hand-in-hand with Noala, whose son slept in the shukanna on her back. They looked up at the shattered moon and said little. Not much needed saying, they were adrift in a cosmos that seemed to have as little regard for them as it did the Natural Order.


    He did tell her what Captain Laurier had told him when they first met: ¡°He told me that all the stars and the blackness in between them is called the Universe by the English. And he said there is no place in all the world for us anymore, and nowhere for us in the Universe.¡±


    Noala shook her head. ¡°The stars and all the skies were made by Namna Bulukku, and she made the world to be lived in. There must be a place for us in it.¡±


    Akil was not assuaged by her comment. ¡°The Ladyman said we must carve out a small place for ourselves on the Hazard, and ships just like it. And I think maybe he is right¡­for I had a dream. The captain speaks of a place called Libertalia, but I know not what it really means. He speaks in riddles, or thinks in them, or both.¡±


    Noala guided him to the ground, and she reached her fingers deep into the soil. Then she looked out into a thick jungle, as the trees swaying in a cold breeze. ¡°There is space for us anywhere we choose to carve it out,¡± she said. ¡°If we want to stay here, we can. Even the captain said so.¡± On her back, Yame snored.


    ¡°No, not yet. Not until we have great power like the English have. Or the Spanish. We need power like that if we want expand beyond the Hazard.¡±


    Noala held his hand, kissed his fingers. They had grown close over the last few months, and something was communicated between them whenever they stood together in silence. Akil reached behind her to touch Yame¡¯s little hands. The boy had grown bigger, and he became angry when he thought Yame might have to grow up in the exact same conditions as his mother, as Bogoa, and all the others. He wished the orisha would grant him a magical spell that could grant him the power to give Yame the world he deserved. He¡¯d sometimes thought that he¡¯d been given the Ladyman as a conduit to such power, for the orisha could work in mysterious ways, the stories said they sometimes even used one¡¯s own enemies to unwittingly deliver the tool of one¡¯s liberation.


    He looked out to sea where Hazard was anchored. Up at the shattered green moon. Into Noala¡¯s eyes. ¡°I saw someone,¡± he said. ¡°A girl. She was on the island where we took the captain, where Okoa and the others got the captain¡¯s medicine from the bark.¡±


    ¡°A girl?¡±


    ¡°I believe she was a spirit, sent by Gawa.¡±


    ¡°Gawa?¡±


    ¡°I met her in my dreams, Noala. While we all slept on that island, I met her, and she told me I had to find someone called the Master, and someone else called the Messenger. She said I must destroy them both. She said if I could do this, I could rewrite the story of our people. She said I ought to master the waters, control the seas, and destroy the Master and his Messenger.¡±


    Noala had a look of concern.


    ¡°What? What is it?¡±


    ¡°Are you sure it was her?¡±


    ¡°Who else could it have been?¡± Akil shrugged.


    ¡°Oya.¡±


    ¡°Oya?¡±


    ¡°She is goddess of the storms and the wind. She paid us visit just a few hours ago, her wrath was written in the lightning and the angry sea. It is said she plays tricks, especially on men who play wicked on the seas. It¡¯s possible she is unhappy with you thieving on her waters.¡±


    Akil shook his head. He found Noala¡¯s comments confusing and irritating. He¡¯d thought he had all this figured out, but now he wasn¡¯t so sure. The cold wind that ran through the trees and made Yame cry now made Akil angry. He disliked uncertainty. Ever since he had been taken from his home, he had been waiting for a sign from the orisha as to what he ought to do, and now he felt like he had been sent too many.


    ____


    Twenty days after they had landed on Lumen Island, it seemed the last of the ill-fated had finally died. Hazard had lost eleven crew, and those that survived were haggard and likely unable to work for at least a few days. They needed to get their strength back up. That would cost them time.


    Before he rowed back to the Hazard, the Ladyman had Okoa, LaCroix, and Dobbs fetch more of his share of the treasure from the ship, and together they buried it in three different places across Lumen Island. That done, they set sail again. But they had to be careful, for a village elder had warned them of trouble. Lurking somewhere in these waters was a contingent of the Spanish armada, they had been skulking these waters for weeks, waiting for an English ship or a down-on-its-luck pirate vessel to go creeping by.


    Why fun might they have if they found the Hazard, which had humiliated and robbed Bateria de la Lanza, and whose crew was now nearly cut in half and sick and exhausted and at their wit¡¯s end?


    ¡°Lads,¡± Laurier said in a low voice, cradling his Corrupted hand. ¡°No lights. No sounds. No calls. We utilize this Long Night for every inch that it¡¯s worth. Sail now, and hug the darkness. She¡¯s our new home.¡±


    ____


    Then came an infestation of rats and cockroaches. Those were troublesome things, especially the rats, who for some reason liked to gnaw at ropes and eat at the spare sails in the lower hold. Those ropes and sails would be desperately needed to replace the old ones.


    The rats and the cockroaches had both likely come aboard from Lumen Island, hiding in the crates of supplies the pirates had taken from a harbour warehouse without asking. So many of the island¡¯s authorities had died, there was none to really stop them. And now it seemed the Hazard was suffering for it. The rats had bred with what few rats had already been ¡°native¡± to the ship, and now their descendants scampered around at all hours, leaping across men¡¯s faces as they slept, even biting their fingers if the hands were left dangling from their hammocks. Bingham, the ship¡¯s last surviving cooper and a man who had barely survived the fever, lost his wits one night and went stomping after them in a mad frenzy. Others tried to restrain him, and they succeeded, at least for a few hours, because when next the bells struck seven in the morning they found Bingham missing from his watch. A search of his stall in the forecastle turned up nothing. His hammock was empty and nobody had seen him. It was generally believed he¡¯d gone into the water.


    The cockroaches crawled on every wall, in every man¡¯s trousers, and seethed around every pail of feces and fell from the rafters onto men¡¯s faces as they tried to sleep.


    Charcoal was burned inside the hulls to smoke them all out. Rory the cat scooped up what rats it could as they fled.


    And the Long Night stretched on for the Hazard, and her cursed captain, and her weak and diminishing crew. And we can guess that some of her crew stewed on those words from their captain: ¡°Sail now, and hug the darkness. She¡¯s our home now.¡±


    Was the Long Night forever? What cosmic joke was being played on them? And would they ever know?


    The questions likely only plagued them until their next turn in the hammock, when the screeching of rats and the feel of small insects crawling across their bodies stole only more sleep from them.

 Chapter 37: A Better Pirate Never Lived

    grog blossom ¨C Someone with a red nose from drinking too much. An alcoholic.


    THE STORM CAME rolling in past midnight. Jack and the four dogs (sometimes six, sometimes eight, a few of them came and went as they pleased) ran away from the North Docks at the first thunderstrike, and the waves were just starting to slap against the posts where the dinghies usually tied off.


    Jack was huffing as she started up the rocky hill. She took one look back out to sea, wondering about the sea monster. Ol¡¯ Charley the pirates had called him. Said he tended to follow the Lively wherever she went. Yet the Lively was here and there was no sign of any sea monster. Jack looked at the ships bobbing lightly in the choppy water. The Lively was moored at the end of the longest pier. She had heard the story from dockworkers gossiping. ¡°Ol¡¯ Woodes Rogers brought her in, and that Devil¡¯s Son, too,¡± one old seadog had said. ¡°Said he may have made a pact with the Devil for real, summoned up Ol¡¯ Charley. I have a friend sailed on the Duke, an¡¯ I asked him was that all they saw out there. ¡®No,¡¯ said he. Said, ¡®Before we took the Coronado, we seen men floating in the water from a scuttled ship, we did.¡¯¡±


    Looking at the Lively, Jack wondered if its whole crew had been arrested along with Captain Vhingfrith. There didn¡¯t seem to be anyone aboard it, no one attending it.


    And for a moment she wondered how hard it could be to simply sail one of those away. Could she steal it now, with the storm blinding everyone and nobody aboard? Was that even possible?


    No, I¡¯d need someone to help me let out all the sails, weigh anchor, all of it.


    That brief dream dashed, she headed back into town.


    The dogs followed her everywhere now. She didn¡¯t know how that happened. She had no scraps to share and they had to know it, but perhaps they also smelled the desperation on her and knew that she could access places she could not, such as Mr. Cowert¡¯s old stall. It was obvious now someone or something had killed him or else he¡¯d gone on a business trip to Kingston and died on the way. Either way, nobody had heard of him and so far no one had taken over his stall. So Jack slept there now. She had not returned to her treehouse since that terrifying night the boys shared their pig and she saw some nightmarish Monster tear one to pieces and eat him.


    Pickpocketing at the docks was now her last best hope. The jungle was home to Caribee who locals now said were worshipping some strange god or gods from Elsewhere. The Fish Market was now filled with paranoid faces, some of whom had recognized her, one old woman had even chased her, shouting, ¡°Oi, you! Come back here? You¡¯re the one what took my purse! Constables! Constables!¡± The Golden Goose was the same, as was The Dip and The Tilted Lady. All pubs and inns shooed her and the other children away when they saw them. A dozen boys, whose faces she didn¡¯t know, roamed the streets constantly. A few times they had told her to keep out of their alleys and she had listened, lest they discovered she was a girl.


    Thunder boomed overhead. Clouds moved in cursed fast. Jack and the dogs were trotting up Queen Street when the downpour came. She slipped in the mud a few times, dodged out of the way of a man and his horse in a hurry.


    Lime Street was crowded, people were hustling home, running from the Long Night which had just set in hours ago. The sun had been high in the sky, then simply winked out, and the world went cold and a chilled wind moved through the streets and new stars swam quickly overhead. But some people remained in the streets because they had nowhere else to go. More girls than ever were offering themselves to men in the streets, hands out, and the militiamen rarely did anything about it.


    Jack ran up to one shop owner just now closing her stall. ¡°Sorry, young mister!¡± the near-toothless hag said. ¡°We¡¯re closing¡ª¡± She cut herself off when thunder boomed. The clouds had moved in fast, swirling like smoke-coloured eels.


    Jack took one of the purses she¡¯d purloined from a grog blossom down on the North Docks and planted it on the stall¡¯s top. ¡°Jes some bread, please¡ª¡±


    ¡°All I got¡¯s hardtack, now git!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take whatever yeh¡¯ve got.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s old, young mister. Old and covered in weevils¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t care, hag! Whatever yeh¡¯ve got, said I.¡±


    The hag shrugged and took the coins and tossed her some old rotted bread wrapped in rags. Jack didn¡¯t bother thanking her, she and the dogs dashed through the alleys to a stall owned by a man named Umber. The dogs knew the routine now. They knew which routes she took when she was in a hurry. On the way, they would sniff the corners of each building, and a lucky mutt could snatch a rat. There were lots of those this close to the docks. Her father used to say they liked ships and knew when new ones had come in to moor.


    Mr. Umber was a mushroom farmer with some sort of supply service set up with a couple of privateers that came and went from the North Docks, and he often had fresh chickens in cages. They were brought from the far side of the island or sometimes another island entirely. Jack didn¡¯t know his business and didn¡¯t care, she only cared that sometimes he and his wife were so busy unloading them that they got sloppy and didn¡¯t see one go missing. The dogs were a welcome distraction because whenever Mr. and Mrs. Umber saw them, they became distracted, shooing them with brooms and throwing rocks at them, convinced it was them who were stealing the chickens.


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    And this storm. It would only provide more noise, more confusion. If Jack got there before the delivery wagon reach the Umbers¡¯ place of business¡­


    But she was too late. She felt the sinking of her stomach as she rounded the alley and saw the wagon already pulling away.


    ¡°Fuck your mother!¡± she growled. An old curse of her father¡¯s. Jack used it because she thought it made her sound more like a boy. And because she was wroth with the world entire. She looked out at the wagon, watching it vanish through the rain and the night. Two lamplighters on horseback came through that same curtain of rain and went galloping through the mud and Jack and the dogs had to skitter to avoid being run over. It was as if they didn¡¯t even see her. ¡°Fuck your mothers!¡± she called after them. She suspected she was crying, but couldn¡¯t tell for the rain running down her face.


    She and the dogs ran fast as they could up the hill, beyond the gag-inducing midden that was at the edge of town. The dunghill grew by the day, with fewer and fewer drovers to haul it off. Many had gone to Kingston, along with a few potters, cloggers, metalsmiths, and livery owners.


    Jack and her dogs ran until they reached a gazebo coffee-house she knew was usually closed this hour. The rain and Long Night ought to have chased any late-night drinkers home, but strangely there were two men sitting there under the canopy. Jack bit back a curse. The last time she¡¯d come to the gazebo when there were paying customers the one-legged proprietor had come out chasing her with a broom, shouting, ¡°You stink to high heaven, boy! Your odour¡¯s offensive to m¡¯customers!¡±


    Fuck their mothers. Will they chase me away again?


    She chanced it. She walked slowly up onto the wraparound porch, trying to make her diminutive form invisible as she slouched under the canopy. The dogs tried joining her and she shooed them away. Better not to attract any attention.


    ¡°¡ªwhat are you saying, Armond? Speak plainly,¡± a man was saying. He was well dressed, in fancy brown breeches and a long black coat. His hair was long and brown and pulled back neatly. He gave a slight glance at Jack but other than that paid her no mind. ¡°It cannot be as you say.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m tellin¡¯ yeh straight, Cap¡¯n Rogers,¡± said the other man. Older fellow, bent, with a potbelly and rings in his ears and face. A pirate, perhaps. Some sailors who stayed in the Caribbean too long got piercings like some of the natives on the other islands. ¡°I know at least three fellows in Porto Bello, they all say the same.¡±


    ¡°But they cannot be sure of the ship,¡± said the well-dressed man.


    Jack broke off a piece of her bread and ate it. From the bottom of the steps the dogs looked up at her hungrily, waiting for any morsel she might share. Jack was known to give in and share from time to time.


    ¡°The ship, sir?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the ship. They cannot be certain of the ship that was used, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Said she was called the Elizabeth, but she was a sloop-o¡¯-war, no mistake. Enrique¡ªthat¡¯s this fellow¡¯s name¡ªEnrique says to me, he says, ¡®Armond, a few of the Viejos survived and they tol¡¯ the story. Was a man-woman, deceived everyone, did he. Man done up in lady-like clothes, moved like a woman, talked like one. And the Africans were black as night, like Moors, only more vicious.¡¯ Then he says to me, he says, ¡®Armond, it be the Ladyman done this to us. Seduced poor Major Solucio and killed him.¡¯ That¡¯s what Enrique said.¡±


    The Ladyman. Now Jack had to pretend hard not to listen, for her ears were drawn to the name like her belly to food. The Hunger was the same.


    ¡°But this explosion on the fort,¡± said the man Rogers. ¡°What was it? What manner of attack could cause such an incendiary thing? A sloop¡¯s cannon¡¯s can¡¯t hope to reach, eh¡­how high did you say it was?¡±


    ¡°Four levels,¡± said Armond, sipping his coffee. ¡°Four levels up a fortress built into a wall, an old secret fort made t¡¯look like some old abandoned thing, in a cove few Spanish ships e¡¯er get to see. They¡¯re a-sayin¡¯ there¡¯s nothing like it in Porto Bello¡¯s history. I swear to yeh, Rogers, my man Enrique ain¡¯t no liar.¡±


    Rogers, she thought, looking out into the rain but trying to strain her ears to hear every word. Captain Rogers. The pirate-hunter. The one who took down the Coronado with the Devil¡¯s Son and then arrested him. Jack¡¯s mind reeled at his revelation. The Ladyman was said to be friends with the Devil¡¯s Son. Whispers said more than friends.


    ¡°Recount the tale again,¡± said Rogers. ¡°From the beginning. Spare no detail but leave out all embellishments. It¡¯s a Long Night, we¡¯ve got time.¡±


    The man Armond hove a sigh and drank down his coffee and began again, and as she listened, Jack¡¯s heart quickened. The Hazard renamed the Elizabeth, the Ladyman posing as a woman who had lost her voice and seducing men, his freed Africans attacking as ferociously as Black Caesar, a trap sprung on all of Porto Bello¡¯s defenders, and some tale of a Monster risen from the depths and crushing men in its grasp, leaving their bodies flattened and with their guts coming out of their faces.


    Jack sat at the edge of the gazebo looking out into the rain but listening to one man retell the story, and in her mind the legend lived. Captain John Laurier stood tall in her mind and she could see him there¡ªjust over there in the mud¡ªtricorne hat and bodice and skirt and sword cutting through armoured Spaniards like they were made of butter. And his ship conquering the fort, smashing it to pieces where it had no business being that powerful. She could see John Laurier dancing away from swords and daggers¡ª


    ¡°What can he be planning?¡± said Rogers, crossing his legs and gazing ruminatively out at the rain.


    ¡°I think he already done it, Cap¡¯n,¡± Armond laughed. ¡°Probably halfway to Cartegena by now.¡±


    ¡°No, all he¡¯s done is robbed a fortress. Impressive though it is, treasure stolen is useless if you cannot spend it, and right now there would be no port willing to take him in, English or otherwise, not after this. Bastard that he is, no one¡¯s ever called him stupid. So why do it? There¡¯s something more here, if your story is true. I don¡¯t like it. There are depths of this plot yet unplumbed.¡±


    ¡°Oi!¡± a voice cried. ¡°What¡¯ve I told you¡ª?¡±


    She was already up and running away from the gazebo, into the rain, even as the coffee-house¡¯s proprietor started to give chase. And the dogs ran alongside her, barking like they thought she was after something.


    Jack ran so hard she became lost, which was hard to do since she knew Port Royal so well. But she couldn¡¯t stop running. And laughing. She didn¡¯t know why but it made her proud. A child¡¯s heart was suddenly flooded with thoughts of adventure and freedom and daring maneuvers. The Ladyman had done the impossible. In her mind it was respite, brief reprieve from the daily hunger and struggle for survival. She skipped down York Street and the dogs seemed to catch on, and frolicked around her, biting each other and growling. The Ladyman had done the unthinkable, taken down a secret Spanish fortress. A better pirate never lived.

 Chapter 38: Business in Nassau

    Nassau ¨C Capital of New Providence, population about 100 permanent residents and 1,000-2,000 pirates at any given time. Surrounded by dozens of secluded cays, and with waters littered with dozens of shipwrecks. Called the pirate capital, the centerpiece locale of the Republic of Pirates.


    THE HAZARD CAME into Nassau¡¯s port at what ought to have been noon on 8 March 1717. The Long Night had not yet ended when they maneuvered past the field of sunken ships, their prows sticking up out of the water like blades of rotted wood. They scraped by these purposefully laid defences and dropped anchor amid the neat rows of pirate vessels. A few of the Hazard¡¯s crew disembarked to handle offloading and paying the wharfage fees. Captain Laurier remained aboard for many hours. When the master-parker asked Okoa why the captain did not make an appearance, he was told the captain had suffered a terrible injury.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the word to spread that the Hazard had done something spectacular. You couldn¡¯t keep pirates from talking once they stepped off a ship and found the nearest drinking hall. Already Isaacson, Jenkins, and Dobbs were having rounds of drinks bought for them by men and women who wanted to know all about it. Some of the African crew found other former slaves in port, slaves who were also now pirates and wore gold and silver jewelry. Drinks were bought for all of them, as long as they were free with the details of the Hazard¡¯s great score.


    Because for months now the story out of Jamaica had been that Captain Laurier and his crew were dead, their ship scuttled or destroyed by some creature of the Long Night, and that the Ladyman had gone down fighting, killing many militiamen. That he was alive and his ship was intact was enough to stir controversy. And the controversy was explosive, for while none of it could be corroborated just yet, the crew of the Hazard divulged more details about an event at a Spanish fort no one on Nassau had ever heard of. Mugs of grog were pressed into the crew¡¯s hands, and the story grew.


    Because here was a victory against both England and Spain¡ªthe Ladyman had cheated death and in so doing thumbed his nose at King George, and then he had robbed King Philip blind. This was a victory all freedom-seeking pirates would find delicious, no matter their station or affiliation. Here was a tale to be told, far and wide.


    The sun rose at a little past seven-thirty, precisely when it should have, putting an end to the Long Night, and there was much joy and celebration across Nassau. Pistols were fired into the air, bonfires were lit and pigs were spontaneously roasted in the middle of the streets.


    When finally his figure emerged from the Hazard¡¯s forecastle, Laurier was in the fine dress and gloves he had secured for himself back in Port Royal, along with high-heeled shoes and wide-brimmed berg¨¨re hat, and his cutlass and a brace of four pistols lashed around his midsection. And surely some noticed those satin gloves, how the right hand looked elongated and thin, malformed yet elegant, and with holes cut in thin fingers to allow for five sharp talons to protrude from the place his fingernails ought to have been. And surely the people who noticed just assumed this was some false hand, some other elaborate addition by the Ladyman.


    Laurier took an hour or so to examine his ship¡¯s keelson, cross-braces, mizzens, and spritsails, letting everyone on the docks see him in full colour before the sun, then stepped down the plank onto the dock. He was joined by a retinue of large, grim-faced Africans, among them a female who wore a man¡¯s tunic and breeches, her young child strapped to her back and sleeping.


    ¡°Mr. Okoa,¡± he said before departing. ¡°You have command. Tell LaCroix to keep searching the ship for any more deathwatch beetles or fungus. Scour the damned planks, every room, every companionway. Make sure he finds all the lumber he needs to replace what we¡¯ve lost while he¡¯s in Nassau. Tell him send the bill to you. Roche, you¡¯re with us. Anne, you know what to do.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain,¡± said Okoa, who headed back up to the main deck.


    ¡°Aye, Captain,¡± said Roche, who twirled his axe in hand.


    ¡°Aye, Captain,¡± said Anne Bonny, who walked into Nassau and immediately disappeared into the crowded streets.


    ¡°Mr. Akil, keep your eyes sharp. You are a freer man here than you were in Port Royal, but even here your kind will find those who would take advantage of your ignorance of the culture.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Remember, you¡¯re with a captain who is on the account, which by extension means you are on the account, provisionally. Should any man harm or threaten you or your people while you¡¯re here, let me know before you do anything, and the two of you may be allowed to settle up in a fair duel. Otherwise, no violence. Those are the rules. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain.¡±


    The city of Nassau, if it could be called a city, was simultaneously more sophisticated and more chaotic than Port Royal. The majority of the paths were either made of planks laid over muddy roads or else elevated planks and scaffolding that led around shops, around houses, sometimes even over their rooftops. But there was a river that led directly into the sea, and crossing that river was a small viaduct that loomed like a great hunched beast, labouring to carry the horses and wagons crossing it. A decade ago, you could have spent all day in the middle of Nassau and not seen a dozen people. Some days you wouldn¡¯t have seen any. But now¡­


    Laurier¡¯s feet sank ankle-deep into the mud and shit. Legless sailors lounged with nowhere else to go, or leaned against a post, all with their hats or cups out taking donations. Laurier would not be seen to not be gracious, and every cup saw some of his doubloons go into it. This got shocked looks from sailors unaccustomed to such handouts, and soon he had gathered a following of the poor and downtrodden who ached for more of his charity.


    This, too, was part of his plan. His charity would underscore the stories he had sent his people ashore to spread, that the Hazard had conquered a Spanish fort, that the Hazard was invincible, that her crew was the fiercest in the Caribbean and her captain was lethal to his enemies and charitable to his friends.


    Ramshackle buildings merged seamlessly with straw huts. Every drinking hall was filled, every brothel spewing music and laughter out into the streets. Men lay passed out drunk in the mud, and men on horseback went around them without a second glance. Games of Hazard and fanorona and Morris were played on porches by bare-chested pirates. West of the beach, high upon a hill, sat Fort Nassau, with black banners snapping in the breeze and seventeen guns facing the water. The fort was rebuilt over two years by Blackbeard¡¯s people, and to this day was still manned by pirates. The Republic¡¯s own trusted men kept this pirate haven safe from law and common society.


    Nassau had risen to offer everything pirates needed to feed their profligate lifestyles, even though it was very much embedded inside a jungle. Unlike Port Royal, the trees still had dominion in this city, some of their branches scraped rooftops, and even went through the upstairs windows.


    A strange sight was waiting for them deeper in the jungle. Birds flopped on the ground, flightless. Dozens of them. Parakeets, bitterns, herons, egrets, they all flopped in the mud. Groups of children lifted them by shovels and tossed them into wheelbarrows.


    ¡°What is wrong with the birds?¡± asked Akil.


    ¡°The Long Nights. Even once they¡¯re over, the birds remain disoriented for a while.¡±


    Akil had not spent much time ashore these last few months, he had not seen the change that the Long Nights brought upon the land.


    As they walked, Roche picked up some of the birds. The Brazilian tried talking to them, he patted them on the head and stroked their wings. Whenever he found a new one, he put the old in one of his pockets. He also dug around in the mud to find worms to feed them. Soon there were happy chirps coming from all of his pockets.


    Whatever keeps the fucker happy, Laurier thought, ducking under the giant, sagging limbs of a palm. He used his Corrupted hand to brush aside giant leaves and branches that blocked his path. Both the hand and the razor-sharp talons that extended from it felt nothing. He wore a glove over it to try and hide it, but where the demonic hand met the flesh of his forearm, the skin was dark purple and veiny and itchy.


    The lanes between shops rose and fell, sometimes going into the sweltering jungle, sometimes curving back around to the crannogs, held above the sea only by stilts. Scores of people were heading to the only church in town, just as its bell sounded, calling them like Christ¡¯s love up the hill. But the church itself was nowhere in sight, and several worshippers had gathered outside of the husk of the old building in throngs and sang with arms lifted up to the blue sky.


    ¡°Why they do this?¡± Akil muttered.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯re thanking God for bringing back the sun,¡± Laurier said.


    ¡°But why? If He brought it back, was it not Him who took it?¡±


    ¡°You would think some would¡¯ve figured that out by now. But I try not to argue with men about religion. It¡¯s irrelevant to the work.¡±


    ¡°Work?¡±


    ¡°Business.¡±


    Laurier shoved his way through the crowd to reach another lane that cut through a portion of the jungle. The planks got narrower, the trees tighter along the path. Laurier searched everywhere for an ambush, for here would be as good a place as any for one.


    Throngs squeezed past him. One sailor led two blind men, each of them with hands touching the sailor¡¯s shoulder for guidance, and their free hands held out cups. Laurier stopped one of the blind men and said, ¡°It¡¯s a nice day to be out, isn¡¯t it, Homer?¡±


    The taller of the blind men stopped and gasped. ¡°My God! Captain? Is that you, sir?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s me, Homer.¡±


    ¡°Faith! I¡¯ve heard men say that when the Long Night comes, ghosts can appear. We all heard you were killed away in Jamaica!¡±


    ¡°True enough, old friend. But I¡¯m not quite dead. Not yet.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but bless you, bless you, Captain! You¡¯ve come back! Jes like I told every one o¡¯ those scallywags up on Fern Street! Didn¡¯t I, Irwin? Didn¡¯t I tell them all?¡±


    ¡°That you did, Homer,¡± said the fellow leading the blind men. ¡°Bless you, Captain Laurier. Bless you for comin¡¯ back. The Republic needs more men like you. Homer here says you¡¯ve always been a fair captain. I¡¯m a fair pilot, m¡¯self. I was an apprentice trained in the navy, back when¡ª¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re looking for work, ask for Mr. Okoa back on the Hazard. Long as you can hand and reef.¡± Laurier cut him short, sensing a sailor looking for work and not caring to hear his r¨¦sum¨¦. ¡°But right now you gentlemen could help me find my way around. Either I¡¯ve gotten lost or the church has moved.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not lost, Captain, bless you!¡± said Homer, still giggling at the revelation of Laurier¡¯s return. ¡°You¡¯re right, Father Cockrell moved the church six months gone, when a tidal wave came crashing up the shores. Took half the docks with it, nearly reached the church. He moved it to make sure that didn¡¯t happen again.¡±


    Laurier dropped doubloons in their cups and the two blind men bit them to see what they were. Their nearly toothless smiles split their faces. ¡°Would you all mind showing us the way?¡±


    ¡°Be glad to, Captain, be glad to,¡± said Irwin.


    They were led uphill, through thickening jungle where flies buzzed in great swarms, desperate for the moisture of their faces and eyes. Laurier doffed his hat to fan them away. The way became narrower. No more planks now, only dirt paths. Birds started righting themselves, started climbing up from the ground and testing their wings, taking flight. Roche took some of the birds from his pockets and, one by one, held them up to assist them in their first flight.


    ¡°Look like they getting the hang, Captain,¡± he said.


    ¡°Aye, Roche. You¡¯ve a thumb for helping animals. I¡¯ll warrant they¡¯ll sing songs of you now.¡±


    Akil and the others laughed. Roche grinned shyly and bowed his head.


    Suddenly, they heard the crack of gunfire, and someone briefly shouting. Everyone stopped and drew pistols. Everyone but Laurier, who waited and listened. Through the jungle came stamping a red-faced Anne Bonny, someone else¡¯s blood on her tunic. ¡°How many?¡± Laurier asked.


    ¡°So far as I could tell, just the two,¡± she said.


    ¡°Did you get anything out of them before you cracked them?¡±


    ¡°One of ¡¯em said he answered to someone back in Port Royal named Kramer. Said the reward is two hundred doubloons.¡±


    ¡°I know Kramer, he¡¯s one of Rogers¡¯s men. He say anything else?¡±


    ¡°No. He coughed his last breath soon after.¡±


    ¡°Good work. Keep stalking around us, see if any more show up on our trail.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡± She wiped her brow and headed back into the jungle, vanishing between thick acara bushes and dangling vines.


    Homer and the others continued leading Laurier on without mentioning what had just happened. They climbed the hill up to an area where locals had built two rope bridges over a river. They crossed them, moving up the elevated planks, walking across the roofs of log cabin homes, and crossing another viaduct before they came to a square-roofed church with a single, tall, narrow steeple jutting out of it like a dagger¡¯s blade. Surrounded on all sides by foliage, Laurier doubted even an egret could spot the church from above. But there were paths cut through the jungle, through which visitors came and went.


    Laurier dropped more doubloons in the blind men¡¯s cups. To Irwin he said, ¡°Remember, see Mr. Okoa about that job.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain. I¡¯m an excellent pilot, I swear. I promise I¡¯ll do the job proper.¡±


    ¡°Homer, make sure everyone knows you¡¯re still crew of the Hazard, even if you never set foot on her again. Men of the Hazard ought to be treated well.¡±


    ¡°Aye aye, Captain!¡±


    The Parish of Christ Church looked anachronistic, like someone had plucked it right out of England from a time long past, and set it down gently here in the Bahamas. Scaffolding all around it was loaded with workers stripped to their waists and using pulleys and ramps to lift cut stone, which, upon asking, Laurier discovered was being brought from a local quarry.


    ¡°This man Cockrell,¡± said Akil. ¡°You never tell me about him before, Captain. He friend to you?¡±


    ¡°The man sets my teeth on edge.¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡±


    ¡°Not a friend. Not anymore. Well, he is a friend of sorts, eh¡ªmostly just a man I used to know, but necessary to an end. Do you have friends like that where you come from?¡±


    ¡°Yes. We call them bokhu, sort of like a man who carries dung away. He smells, nobody want to be around him, but bokhu is necessary.¡±


    Laurier laughed and clapped Akil¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Then you have it exactly. Father Cockrell is very much bokhu.¡±


    Laurier asked a wagonmaster, who was currently fighting with his oxen to pull a wagon full of large square-cut stones out of the mud, where he could find the church¡¯s overseer. He was directed around to the back of the church where a hole big enough for a horse was cut into the ground, and mud-covered Africans came crawling up a ladder. The Africans were lean but strong, much smaller than Akil, who received odd looks from them. Some of them looked at Bogoa, whose mangled face gave them obvious fright, and Noala, whose babe slept in his sling on her back.


    ¡°Father Cockrell?¡± John asked. One of the Africans pointed into the hole. John knelt by the hole. ¡°Father Cockrell! Ellis, you down there?¡± While he waited, Laurier whistled. He watched the African workers slurp ladles of water from a bucket while eyeing Akil and the others, all of whom carried sabres or spears.


    A muddy face popped out of the ground. When he saw Laurier, Cockrell grinned, and climbed out. John¡¯s heart froze at the sight of his oldest friend.


    Ellis Cockrell did not look like a priest. He had his hair long and in a ponytail and wore no robes. He was very handsome. Caramel-smooth skin touched with scars dappled in just the right way, lending ruggedness to silk. ¡°John! I wondered how long it¡¯d be before you turned up. I knew you hadn¡¯t died when they never found your body. Have you come to help us rebuild the church? No, of course not, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re too busy with¡ªwhat was it? Something to do with a fort, I¡¯m sure I heard. Some men came up from Wynn Street earlier today to trade, brought us news of your exploits. Took me back, hearing those stories.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t come to catch up on old times or brag about new ones, Ellis. Are they still meeting here?¡±


    ¡°Who? You mean the Kings?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I mean the Kings.¡±


    Cockrell nodded and accepted a towel from one of his helpers and wiped his face. ¡°Yes, they still meet here, John. What do you imagine we¡¯re building below? It¡¯s another cellar, just like the old one, in case the Royal Marines ever raid us again. That was something, wasn¡¯t it? We narrowly got away¡ª¡±


    ¡°When is the next meeting supposed to be?¡±


    ¡°Not for another month.¡±


    ¡°Are they all here on the island?¡±


    Cockrell shrugged. ¡°Most of them, I expect. Why?¡±


    ¡°Call for another meeting.¡±


    Cockrell threw his head back and laughed, slapping Laurier¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Same old Johnny! You get an idea and think the world drops what it¡¯s doing! Johnny, you¡¯re only recently on the account, and nobody but the Pirate Kings can call a meeting. You summoning them would be like¡­like Lord Hamilton summoning King George across the Atlantic for tea! Haw haw haw!¡±


    ¡°Just send out the word,¡± Laurier said agitatedly. ¡°I¡¯m on the island. They¡¯ll want to speak with me.¡± He gestured at the hole in the ground. ¡°We can christen your new cellar with its first official gathering.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t do it, Johnny boy. Sorry, but I just can¡¯t.¡± He reached out to touch Laurier¡¯s cheek. ¡°But God welcomes you back, if you¡¯ll admit him into your heart, old friend.¡±


    Laurier lifted his right hand. The talons seized Cockrell¡¯s wrist, and the priest flinched, smile wavering, as Laurier pulled his hand away. Cockrell looked at the deformed hand like it belonged to a demon stepped from his nightmares. Then he looked back at Laurier, and said, ¡°What happened to your hand, John?¡±


    ¡°Never you mind.¡±


    ¡°My God¡­John, have you been touched by some demon? Corrupted? You wouldn¡¯t be the first. We had a lad here last month was bitten by some ten-foot-long eel no one¡¯s ever seen before. It happened during a Long Night. One of Lucifer¡¯s creatures, no doubt. We prayed for him. Let us pray for you, as well¡ª¡±


    ¡°Tell your God I have more gold and silver than in all his heavenly coffers,¡± John said. ¡°Tell him I bent the Spaniards over a barrel away in Panam¨¢, and I¡¯m anxious to do it again, to the English and the Dutch and the French and anyone bloody else in my seas. Tell that to the Kings, as well. I¡¯ve gold. And a plan. I know you know how to contact them all, what coves each of them careens in. They trust you. God knows why.¡± John leaned forward and spoke sotto voce. ¡°And don¡¯t pretend at prayers and godliness with me. We both know what this church is. We both know.¡±


    Cockrell¡¯s eyes lingered on the hand. Then he looked over at the Africans, and an ember of humour returned to his eyes. ¡°Interesting company you¡¯re keeping these days, Ladyman. What are your names?¡±


    Neither Akil nor his friends answered.


    ¡°Did he tell you anything about me? No, I shouldn¡¯t think so. Has he told you the same gospel he tried selling to everyone else that¡¯s ever sailed with him, that the only place for you in this world is aboard his ship? I¡¯ll wager he did. I¡¯ll wager he didn¡¯t tell you about men like these,¡± Cockrell said, gesturing to the Negroes working on the church. ¡°The Ladyman made sure you didn¡¯t know you had another option here in New Providence.¡±


    ¡°Captain gave us choice,¡± Akil finally said.


    ¡°Did he? Well, that¡¯s new for you, John. Or was it a choice at all, really? Was it the same ¡®choice¡¯ our Teach gave us? Did you tell them they had this ¡®choice¡¯ while they stood aboard your ship, and had nowhere else to go at the time? And now that they¡¯ve killed many Spaniards in your name, their cause cannot help but be married to yours, eh? They¡¯re pirates now. It¡¯s all they know of this world, the only skill they have, and you made sure they learned no other¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just pass along my message to the Kings,¡± John said, growing tired of Cockrell¡¯s same doggerel. He gestured to Roche, who stepped forward with a heavy bag that jingled, and offered it to Cockrell.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°A donation for the church. I had no clue you were rebuilding it, so this is auspicious. Use it however you like. Build a fountain, a statue of Christ doing something noble, as you please. There is a second payment just like that one if you pass the message along, and can convince the Kings to meet.¡±


    Cockrell chuckled. ¡°Johnny boy. Ohhhh, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. You always remember to grease the axle, don¡¯t you?¡± The bag disappeared inside the folds of Cockrell¡¯s robe as smoothly as the purse of many a noble¡¯s had done fifteen years ago, before they came to the Caribbean together, before the two of them ever set foot aboard a ship and everything changed for them. As John recalled, once money went into those hands, it never again saw anyone else¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯ll send out messengers within the hour. The Kings will either meet with you or they won¡¯t. Will that do?¡±


    ¡°I suppose it will have to.¡±


    ¡°And will that be all?¡±


    ¡°Yes. No, there¡¯s one other thing. Anne!¡± There came a crack of gunfire from somewhere in the jungle that alarmed some of the workers. ¡°That be Anne Bonny. I don¡¯t believe the two of you have ever met. She¡¯s always around and she¡¯ll be watching us. I¡¯ve eyes and ears everywhere, you know this already, but just in case you needed reminding¡­¡± He started to turn away. ¡°Oh, and I¡¯m going to leave Roche here. You¡¯ve heard of the Brazilian, I¡¯m sure. He won¡¯t be leaving until he sees you send your messengers to the Pirate Kings. Good day, Cockrell.¡±


    The priest smiled and bowed politely. ¡°Good day, John. May God guide you always to safe shores, and someday back to me.¡±


    Laurier stepped back into the jungle, gritting his teeth so hard he thought they might snap.


    ____


    What was it, fourteen, fifteen years since the rookery? John hardly liked to think back on those days. He stood on the balcony on the roof of The Foghorn, one of the first taverns he¡¯d come to when he landed in the West Indies, looking over the tops of wood buildings that, from here, formed a design like concentric rings, spanning outwards from the center of town. Stone ramparts surrounded two tiny, crumbling forts close to the beach. Beyond that beach were almost two dozen pirate ships, including the Hazard, and beyond that was the sea he¡¯d crossed with Ellis Cockrell. More than three thousand bloody miles of seasickness and disease, eating weevil-filled hardtack, shitting his guts out over the rail while in full view of others also shitting their guts out, fighting for every scrap of deck he could find to sleep, and all the while wondering, Is Ellis going to kill me?


    Back then, Laurier¡¯s hands had shaken at the very thought of violence. He would never have hurt Ellis, even if it had been Ellis who struck first, even though he knew that if Ellis did attack him, it would mean his death. His hands did not shake now. One of them made a fist. The other one, the Corrupted one, tapped lightly on the balcony rail.


    There was a jolting sensation, something between pleasure and pain, that started in his new hand and traveled all the way up to his elbow, his shoulder, up and down his spine, to his sphincter and brain. He clenched his jaw a moment, let it pass, and let out a sigh. Looking down at the taloned hand, John reached down and slowly peeled away the satin glove he¡¯d forcefully stretched over it. He ran his left-hand fingers over his right-hand fingers. The right hand still felt no sensation at all. And yet it obeyed him whenever he moved it. Its motions were elegant and smooth, graceful as an eel.


    A fly buzzed by his face, and with speed he¡¯d never possessed before, John reached out and snatched the insect out of the air, pinching it precisely between thumb-talon and middle-talon. It was done with such precision the fly appeared undamaged, yet the fine tips of each talon had skewered it.


    He flicked it away. Rested both hands on the balcony. Looked out over the sea as the sun set. For the rest of human history people would have to wonder if the sun was coming up tomorrow. So strange, to have such a fixture of the heavens, something so consistent that its movements could be accurately guessed from season to season, and had been written about for centuries and understood as nonnegotiable, suddenly become as erratic as the whims of a summertime lover.


    Footsteps approaching. Without thinking John¡¯s Corrupted hand shot to his hilt and drew his cutlass before he could even turn. Anne was there, hands out, having kept her distance since learning Laurier¡¯s right hand had a mind of its own. ¡°I spoke to him.¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Braithwaite? What did he say?¡±


    ¡°He has one. But just one. Most of the components that you¡¯ll need for the crane, as well.¡±


    Laurier relaxed his posture, and sheathed his sword. ¡°Excellent job, Anne. Go check on Roche at the church, see if all¡¯s well. But speak with Akil before you go, in case he needs anything.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡± She hesitated.


    ¡°Something else?¡±


    ¡°I was just wondering why we need a diving bell, Captain. And if so, why one of Braithwaite¡¯s? Surely there¡¯s cheaper ones at other ports.¡±


    ¡°Not many other ports are friendly to our kind anymore, Anne. Or haven¡¯t you noticed? And while others may build cheaper diving bells, none of them will be better than Braithwaite¡¯s, faith.¡±


    Anne nodded. ¡°Very good, Captain. But he¡¯s expecting a lot.¡±


    ¡°And we can afford it. We can afford anything right now, Anne.¡± John turned back to face the sea. ¡°We are kings of all the world, after all. Who has more freedom than us? Certainly not Philip or Lucky George. Certainly no one but us.¡± He added, ¡°Enjoy this moment, there won¡¯t be many like it in this lifetime, and few ever experience it at all.¡±


    ¡°Reminds me. I stopped by the harbour. Okoa says there¡¯s been lots o¡¯ fellas looking to crew the Hazard when we head out next. Word of our haul is spreading fast, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Like sharks with blood in the water. Well, that was the plan. We still must watch and quarter them all,¡± he said. Meaning, they would need to assign them all jobs. ¡°What about that pilot? Irwin was his name.¡±


    ¡°Okoa¡¯s already acquainted him with the Hazard. Fella¡¯s fingers touch the steering like it¡¯s his lover. Fella seems right confident, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Good, he¡¯ll need that confidence. They all will.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s some tars on deck all want to sail on the Hazard, them as can¡¯t find work elsewhere.¡±


    Laurier could see some of those sailors now. Their bodies certainly bore the stigmata of years of sea life: that leathery skin, those crooked and tar-stained fingers, a few scars from punishments by the cat¡¯o¡¯nine. Most had likely been highwaymen in their day, Newgate birds, burglars, jack-a-dandies, pickpockets, gamesters, thieves of every kind. One or two might merely be former navy men that had fallen on hard times. ¡°Watch and quarter them all. As I said.¡±


    ¡°Aye. Okoa also said there¡¯s a big fella waiting for you down by the docks. Fat fella that dresses real nice like. Says he has information he thinks you¡¯ll be interested in. Says he knows you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he does. What¡¯s his name?¡±


    ¡°Funny name. What was it¡­rhymes with cunt, I remember. Munt, that¡¯s it.¡±


    Laurier shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know him. I¡¯m sure¡ªwait.¡± It had been months since he had even thought about the corpulent fellow that dressed like a Nancy and was speaking to Benjamin secretively about something at The Golden Goose. He had nearly forgotten the man¡¯s name. Had nearly forgotten everything about those days just before the Cataclysm, when he and Benjamin had finally been on good terms, each of them forming their own private plans. ¡°Where is he now?¡±


    ¡°Still at the docks, waiting by the Hazard last I saw.¡±


    ____


    ¡°I understand,¡± said Munt, shifting his wide arse across two barrels, ¡°that you¡¯ve come to see Father Cockrell.¡±


    Laurier came strolling down the dock to meet him. ¡°What do you know about that?¡± he asked, doffing his hat and tossing it onto a barrel opposite Munt.


    ¡°Ah, my dear lad, I know a lot about a lot. It¡¯s my only gift really, to be sure.¡± Munt grunted as he leaned forward and rolled up the pant leg of his left leg. There was terrible redness and swelling¡ªthe gout, no doubt¡ªbut he just sort of smiled as he massaged it, like the pain was an old friend. ¡°I know things such as this: you and Cockrell were once friends, weren¡¯t you? Came here together on either the Albion, the Belfast, or the Equinox, tales vary. Then some say you found your way aboard Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge?¡± He winced as she rubbed his calf muscle, which looked ready to burst through his flesh.


    ¡°We have ointments for that aboard the ship.¡±


    ¡°How very good of you. But thank you, I¡¯ve my own remedies. I could not go far without them.¡± Munt gestured to Laurier¡¯s own malady. ¡°That hand. Some around here are already talking about Corruption. That¡¯s what they call it whenever someone like you turns up.¡±


    John nodded. ¡°I know. We met some of them on Kanal Island.¡± It had been a brief careen, just a day of repairs, John had been ashore trying to heal up, get some fresh air while he watched Okoa direct his men to work. There had been Carib natives on the island, and a few marooned sailors, some of which had been attacked by the same Beasts said to have assaulted Port Royal. Those that had lived had had wounds grievous like John¡¯s, with strange protrusions coming out of them, usually a black tentacle that flopped around. As with John¡¯s new appendage, all attempts to amputate them failed, as they only grew back. The next day, the Long Night began, and the Hazard had set sail under two white moons.


    ¡°Been touched by one of them, haven¡¯t you?¡± Munt chuckled. ¡°Well, same as me. This looks like gout, I know, but in fact I was bitten by something, some creature that came into Port Royal during the Cataclysm, on the very night you disappeared, in fact.¡±


    Laurier¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°How many has this happened to?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve heard stories of a dozen or so others.¡± Munt sighed wearily. ¡°I myself left Royal after the Cataclysm, when it became clear our mutual friend wasn¡¯t going to go into a business venture with me, after all, and instead decided to help the island bureaucrats and the Royal Navy in their time of need.¡± He looked up at Laurier. ¡°Aren¡¯t you even going to ask about him?¡±


    ¡°I assume Captain Vhingfrith endures, as ever. Else I would¡¯ve heard differently.¡±


    ¡°He does, he does endure. He¡¯s a survivor like yourself. Like me, too, I suppose, only my adventures are less gallant.¡± He laughed at himself, and drank from a flask and rubbed at his swollen leg. ¡°Cockrell. He turned to God at some point when he got here. Is that what happened between you two?¡±


    Laurier paced around the dock, aware of the gazes he drew from dockworkers. Beside him, waves lapped lightly against Hazard¡¯s hull. ¡°He found God when he reached these shores. He has a very specific relationship with the Almighty, as well as an interesting interpretation of His Scripture.¡±


    ¡°Most holy men feel this way. That their relationship with the Sovereign is unique. But not too unique, you see, for any person who has claimed to have a ¡®special¡¯ connection to this Power has been invariably persecuted. John Scotus Eriugena was excommunicated, Bruno was burnt at the stake, all of Meister Eckhart¡¯s theses were condemned.¡± Munt nodded sagaciously and took another sip, and belched. ¡°Clever holy men know how to make their messages stand out, to gather their flock, but they must still operate within the¡ªah, never mind, I can tell I¡¯m boring you. Perhaps I¡¯m mistaking you for my old friend Vhingfrith, who does love a philosophical discussion, and who I¡¯ve come to beg you to help.¡±


    Laurier stopped pacing and looked at him. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®help¡¯?¡±


    Munt sighed. ¡°Oh dear. I thought you might be clueless, or else surely you would¡¯ve already left for Port Royal, along with your¡ª¡±


    ¡°What the fuck are you talking about? Tell me what¡¯s happened, Munt.¡±


    Munt massaged his leg. ¡°Our dear boy is in a dungeon. In Marshallsea Prison, in fact. I saw him just once when he came to shore in shackles, and bribed a militiaman to let me speak with him for five minutes. John, he bade me give you this, should you ever return from the dead.¡± Munt reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out a necklace, at the end of which was a silver locket John knew very well.


    ¡°I¡¯ve laid a trap for you,¡± said Munt. ¡°You know that. And here is the bait. You know that I¡¯m only here because of my business agreement with Vhingfrith, and though he abandoned our agreement to chase the Spanish, I think now he will reconsider our deal. If I can free him.¡± Munt nodded. ¡°But it is a trap I¡¯m laying now, I do confess. And I apologize. And I am sincerely sorry that they took the man you love most in the world. But I also confess to being selfish, and will use this to my benefit. So there.¡±


    John reached out slowly and took the locket.


    ¡°A thousand-pound reward is on your head now, and a hundred for any pirate that sails with you.¡± Munt lifted one ass cheek and farted. ¡°King George has straitly commanded all his governors in this part of the world by no means to suffer any trade with your kind. To give you no succour, no safety, not even a modicum of leniency. All he wants is your eradication. Woodes Rogers and Governor Hamilton mean to see it done. Nassau is still the Republic of Pirates, but if you leave here, only a gallows waits for you elsewhere in the Caribbean.¡±


    John gripped the locket in his Corrupted fist, and quickly drew his pistol with his other hand and pressed the barrel against the fat man¡¯s head. His lip curled in disgust. ¡°Did you help Woodes Rogers design this plan to lure me?¡±


    ¡°On my life, sir, no,¡± Munt said calmly, and massaged his leg. ¡°But I saw an opportunity and I¡¯m exploiting it. Benjamin never told you what I¡¯m after, did he? He never told you about Levasseur¡¯s treasure.¡± He shook his head. ¡°No, I thought not. Let me tell you, then. And then I will tell you what deal I mean to cut with you, in exchange for what I know about the treasure, for bringing me along, and for the people in Port Royal that I can leverage to help you get Benjamin back. Do this, and not only can you save him, you can have a cut of Levasseur¡¯s treasure.¡±


    John¡¯s heart was racing. His mind was suddenly filled with a silken rage and it would have felt good to shoot Munt dead on the spot. But he was panicking. Short of breath. Imagining Benjamin sitting in a dungeon, being whipped, being fitted for a noose¡ª


    ¡°I don¡¯t give a fuck about this¡­treasure, or whatever it is you¡¯re after. But¡­Benjamin¡­so help me God, Munt, if you¡¯re lying to me¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not lying, sir. See it in my eyes. I¡¯m not lying.¡±


    Tears formed at the rims of his eyes, but John managed to hold them back. He lowered the pistol. Paced a moment. Considered this might be a trap.


    Then he looked back at Munt. ¡°Marshallsea Prison. How many entrances? How many guards?¡±


    ____


    The exchange happened the next day when there should have been a dawn. Dobbs helped Jenkins and a number of the Africans roll barrels of silver doubloons onto the dock, and watched as they were deposited onto the back of a wagon pulled by two oxen and carried away. Dobbs stood on the beach looking at the eastern horizon. The sun was an hour late, which meant they had entered another Long Night. There were too many clouds to tell if they had any new moons to contend with.


    The bloody Hellmouth won¡¯t let us out, Abner, thought Dobbs. His eye drifted south along the beach, to where Jenkins and Isaacson were receiving a wagon coming in from Melon Street, making its slow way down the ramp to the dock. On the back of that large wagon was an enormous bell, twice the size of the largest church bell Dobbs had ever seen, half covered in bedsheets and rope to keep it steady in the wagon.


    Isaacson hopped off the wagon and muttered something to Jenkins, then shouted down to Dobbs, ¡°Oi! Boy! Make yourself useful, go an¡¯ tell the Negroes we need help with this!¡±


    Dobbs nodded. How will I kill you? Captain¡¯s given me permission, but he says the time is mine to pick. Could I do it now, in the open? It goes against Pirate Law of a fair dual. No, I should like to wait for a better moment. I don¡¯t know when that¡¯ll be, but I feel like your death should somehow be useful, Isaacson. It should have greater purpose.


    ¡°Oi! Did you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Dobbs said, and ran back to the Hazard to fetch Akil.


    ____


    Akil did not understand the purpose of the large device they were offloading. It required twenty men all moving around it with long metal poles carefully slid through hoops on its side. When the sheets came off, he saw that it was an enormous bell, about a head taller than himself, and from it extended numerous tubes and something else that looked like an inflatable stomach.


    There were large beams of wood and a pulley system that also had to be taken off the wagon and hauled aboard the Hazard. Captain Laurier oversaw every bit of the work, and took off all his clothes except for a loincloth and joined in.


    ¡°What¡ªis¡ªthis¡ªrafiki?¡± asked Bogoa. It was getting hard for him to speak, for the wound to his face, while healing, had become Corrupted with boils and black patches across his flesh. One part of his face was nearly skeletal, while the part of his mouth that he still had was swollen like he¡¯d been stung by bees.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, brother,¡± Akil grunted, bending to pick up the metal bars and lift the bell up. ¡°Another white man¡¯s contraption. His, I suppose.¡± With his chin, he pointed to the tall, potbellied man in important-looking brown robes, talking to Captain Laurier, the Frenchman, and some hugely fat man down on the dock.


    Noala, who had her sleeping child strapped to her back and was clearing away clutter from the deck to make room for the crane assembly, walked by Akil and Bogoa, and said, ¡°I heard the captain asking the Frenchman something about going underwater. He said, ¡®Are you sure we will be able to breathe down there?¡¯ The Frenchman said yes.¡±


    Akil and Bogoa exchanged quizzical looks. How on earth could a bell help anyone breathe underwater like a fish?


    ____


    As the Long Night grew cold and the clouds dispersed, new constellations were revealed, some of the stars pulsed with red light. There was a single red-and-yellow moon, gibbous at the moment, and it was extraordinarily large. Its glow gave shape to the bronze-coloured diving bell as it was set on the center of the deck. The shape of the thing is magnificent, LaCroix thought. He wondered how the moulding had been made so smooth, with the aperture at the bottom being large enough for three people to fit inside. The four windows were also finely made. And those chains! He¡¯d never seen such large metal chains, each iron link half as big as his fist.


    ¡°¡ªand you¡¯ll want to oil the gears on the crane daily,¡± the man Braithwaite was saying, adjusting his foggy spectacles. ¡°The sea air may be bracing for the human soul, but I¡¯m afraid it has a compoundingly corrosive effect on machines like these.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware of what happens to iron in saltwater, old friend,¡± Captain Laurier was saying.


    ¡°And you¡¯ll need special oils to keep it well lubricated,¡± Braithwaite went on as though he hadn¡¯t heard. ¡°I have a bouquet of them in my bag I brought with me. And I believe I told you before that the air pumps allow you air for one half-hour, but you could go longer if¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll want to share those with Mr. LaCroix here, he¡¯s my man in all matters of engineering. I hand you off to him now, make sure you give him a full detailing of the maintenance required.¡±


    LaCroix could think of nothing that excited him more at the moment, but first he had to know something. ¡°Capitaine, do you have an ear for me?¡±


    ¡°Make it quick, LaCroix, I¡¯ve other matters to attend.¡± He was already clutching Munt¡¯s elbow like he meant to guide the fat man away for a private talk.


    ¡°I just want to ask, why now? Why, after all this time, do you wish to explore the ocean floor?¡±


    ¡°Because there is more to it now than ever before.¡± Laurier¡¯s Corrupted hand twitched, and LaCroix backed away. He was sure Laurier had caught the motion. ¡°The firmament has changed the world. The sea perhaps more than anything else. I would very much like to know who our new neighbours are.¡±


    LaCroix had been smiling in exultation at the diving bell, but now that smile died. ¡°You¡­you intend to¡­?¡±


    ¡°There are many uses for a diving bell, my friend. Who knows when it¡¯ll come in handy?¡± The captain nodded aft. ¡°Hazard¡¯s still injured, see to her repairs before we leave. Send some men ashore to fetch wood from the forest. Should you need more oakum and pitch, tell Okoa, he¡¯ll see to it.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡± LaCroix considered asking more. But then he remembered the saying that went around Port Royal. There¡¯s a hundred reasons why the Ladyman does anything.


    ____


    The Long Night was ongoing, and it found the Hazard¡¯s crew on main deck. Laurier stood before all of them, on the second step of the quarterdeck stairs. Each man and woman had his or her own ideas about what they were doing here in Nassau, what they were doing buying a diving bell, an apparatus none of them understood, and where they were going next. The Africans were intermingling with the rest of the crew at this point. The blacks sat next to the whites on barrels, Roche sat on a cannon whittling, Anne was lying down, head propped up on the railing, Dobbs was standing behind Isaacson, and LaCroix was up in the netting with his legs threaded through the gaps, looking down on the proceedings.


    Laurier told himself that he must be honest with them, but that his reasoning must also be sound. If he gave any hint that he was deceiving them, they would feel betrayed, and all these months of building trust would be for nothing. They did not mind if he lied to anyone else. All the world be damned, but this was their ship, and this was their captain. The Ladyman. And no other like him.


    Laurier touched the two lockets that now hung from his neck, and recalled a friendship like no other, a love that rivaled that of his crew, but did not exceed it. If he was being honest with himself, he had three loves: Benjamin Vhingfrith, his crew, and freedom as only the open sea could provide. He must find a way to have all three.


    Removing his glove to show his Corrupted, blackened hand, he exposed himself in a way he had never done before. May as well be naked at this point. Most of his crew had already seen it, but it still brought a heavy silence. ¡°You see that?¡± he said, pointing at the sky. ¡°It was once permanent. The sun came up and it went back down and there was only one moon in the heavens. That time is past.¡± He looked at his Corrupted hand as if seeing it for the first time. ¡°See this? No wound like it anywhere, is there?¡±


    ¡°No, Cap¡¯n,¡± they murmured.


    ¡°And no ship like Hazard, is there?¡±


    ¡°No, Cap¡¯n,¡± they intoned more proudly.


    ¡°You feel her? Beneath your feet? She¡¯s sleeping now, lads. But like a lioness, she awakens thirsty. And hungry. Do you feel her?¡±


    ¡°Aye, Cap¡¯n!¡± they said eagerly. Some of them stomped the deck with their feet to feel her more.


    Laurier nodded. ¡°The sky is not permanent, so you know God has changed His mind. Just like He changed it from Old Testament to the New. God changes His mind, lads. Or else He¡¯s stepped away from His godly duties and relinquished our world to¡­others. So, now you know, nothing is certain. He¡¯s proven His willingness to abandon us. After all this time, setting the Universe to His list of laws, and setting the rules on where you can live, what you can have, who you must obey.¡± Laurier looked each of them in the eye. ¡°And who you can love.¡±


    They were all still, waiting to hear the word.


    Placing his Corrupted hand on the railing, he waited with them.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to mince words any longer. And I¡¯m not going to lead you on. I have room in my heart for only three things: the sea, you fucking scallywags, and one other man in particular. I believe you all know who that man be.¡±


    Some nodded. Most said nothing. Noala shushed her baby, who had just started crying.


    Feeling inspiration take him, Laurier pointed to her. ¡°Hear that? Listen well, lads, because that¡¯s the noise you all made when you came into this world, helpless and unable to crawl or fight or fend for yourself. You were done to. The world did as it pleased with you, and you had no say. No say at all. Well, not anymore. Before you came aboard the Hazard, you had no family. Well, not anymore. Before I took you, and embraced you, you had to jump from ship to bloody ship, making meagre earnings from meagre treasures. Well, not anymore! You took on an entire bloody Spanish fort, and you won! Before that day, the world had never heard of you, much less feared your names. Well! Not! Any! More!¡±


    ¡°A-hoooo-rahhhh!¡± they shouted.


    ¡°You were all like yonder crying child. So, will you protect it now?¡± He pointed to Jenkins. ¡°You! Will you protect Noala¡¯s child with your life?¡±


    ¡°Aye, Captain!¡±


    ¡°And why?¡±


    ¡°Because he¡¯s bloody crew, Cap¡¯n!¡±


    Everyone laughed and stomped and cheered.


    ¡°That¡¯s fucking right. He¡¯s bloody crew, id¡¯n he?¡± Laurier looked up at the maintop, and they followed his gaze to the Jolly Roger, the black flag flapping in the breeze, the skull and bones rippling animatedly. ¡°Look how happy you boys make ol¡¯ Jolly Roger!¡±


    They laughed and stomped and banged their fists on barrels. Even the Africans, most of whom spoke barely any English, thumped their spears against the planks. Anne shot to her feet and fired her pistol in the air and others did the same.


    Laurier had them now. So he closed the deal.


    ¡°We are all Corrupted now. Like this hand of mine. Born into a world we did not ask for, tossed into lives we never asked for, and then abandoned by England! And then used again by her when she needed us against Spain, only to be targeted ourselves once we¡¯d already bent King Philip over a barrel! Now England hasn¡¯t just abandoned us, she means to kill us! So, when I tell you I mean to head back into Port Royal, I need you to understand why!¡± he cried.


    They all settled down to listen. Here was the crucial part. They could all vote against this action. He had to sell them on it.


    ¡°I am like you all. I love who and what I want, and fuck everyone else! I told you before, I love the sea, you scallywags, and one man in particular! If anyone came for any of you, I¡¯d kill them. If someone tried to take the sea from me, I¡¯d crush them. And if someone means harm to that particular man, I will eat their hearts!¡± And now he had to humble himself before them, make himself vulnerable to attack. ¡°And so, I cannot ask that you all come with me, for this is my love, my particular man. And they mean to hang him, brothers. The Admiralty at Port Royal mean to hang this particular man as a criminal, as some sort of conspirator against the Crown. And while this particular man may call himself a privateer, do you know what I call him? A pirate!¡±


    There were a few nods. He could most likely buy the rest of them off with promise of greater shares of the Spanish treasure resting belowdecks. But he needed more than that from them. He needed their hearts.


    Some of them will go with me. Some of them will. But not all of them, not to save the Devil¡¯s Son, a privateer not on the account. But I need them all. And only their hearts will summon them.


    ¡°Akil!¡±


    The warrior stepped forward. ¡°Yes, Captain?¡±


    ¡°Come here, please.¡±


    As Akil approached, Laurier drew his cutlass and beckoned the warrior to join him up on the steps. He handed Akil the sword, and held out his left hand. He spoke loud enough so that all could hear. ¡°I¡¯m going to ask a question of my crew, and should any man answer yay, I command Mr. Akil, our own master-at-arms, to lop off my only un-Corrupted hand. Do you understand?¡±


    Akil blinked, but otherwise showed no emotion. ¡°Yes, Captain.¡±


    Laurier rolled up his sleeve slowly so that they all could see. He let them whisper amongst one another for a moment, then laid his left hand on the rail. ¡°Does any man here think I do not love him as much as I love Benjamin Vhingfrith?¡± he shouted. ¡°Say yay, and this hand leaves me. I swear it. If that is what it takes to prove it to you, I swear it will be done.¡±


    But for the wind across the deck and the waves lapping the hull, the Hazard was tomb-quiet.


    There.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it. Then I must ask you this, brothers, sisters, you who¡¯ve raided the Spanish and spat in King Philip¡¯s eye. Will you come with me to Port Royal, and spit in King George¡¯s?¡±


    Predictably, Dobbs was the first to step forward, and spat vehemently. Jenkins chuckled, and spat. Next to spit was LaCroix up in the netting, then Okoa and Jaime and all the others. Many of the Africans only caught on that this custom was warranted, and so spat. Men laughed, and spat in each other¡¯s faces. A couple of men punched one another, but it was all in good fun.


    Captain Laurier smiled and rolled down his sleeve. ¡°I¡¯m relieved you didn¡¯t have to maim me further, Mr. Akil.¡±


    ¡°Me too, Captain. I¡¯m afraid it might grow back, too.¡±


    Laurier smirked, and went belowdecks.


    ____


    John maintained his composure as he crossed the companionway into his cabin, and then he slumped in his chair and faced the windows and stared out at the Long Night. He rummaged through his drawers, looking for a new glove to cover his Corrupted hand. White satin, pearl embroidery. He¡¯d lost its mate some years ago and never found it. He had to cut holes from the tips to allow his talons through. Then he removed the iron file from another drawer, and began filing his talons. It was an ongoing project to see if it could be done. So far, after months of filing, the talons would not diminish. Sharp as razors, they wouldn¡¯t even dull.


    There was a knock at his door and he quickly put the file away. ¡°Come in.¡±


    The door opened enough for Captain Belmont to poke his head in. ¡°Are you busy, Captain?¡±


    ¡°No, Captain Belmont, what is it?¡±


    The militiaman stepped in with a bag at his side, the one filled with everything needed for physic. ¡°Shall I take another look at it now?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so concerned about my hand? My health?¡±


    ¡°Only so far as it guarantees a return on your promise to me, Captain.¡±


    Laurier nodded. ¡°You¡¯ll be returned to Port Royal. Perhaps sooner than expected, my friend.¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t friends, I¡¯ve told you.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ve told you not everyone called ¡®my friend¡¯ is really a friend.¡±


    They stared at one another beat. Laurier cracked a smile. Belmont did not.


    Wordlessly, Laurier presented his Corrupted hand for inspection, and Belmont stepped over to examine it. ¡°How is it today?¡±


    ¡°Same as before. No change.¡±


    ¡°That was quite a speech you gave up there.¡±


    ¡°You were listening?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Belmont pulled on gloves of his own to handle the Corrupted hand, then used forceps and a small razor blade to poke and prod. The external veins, which ran around the Corrupted hand in strange looping designs, were thick and tough as cord, and occasionally pulsed with dark purple light. Belmont always seemed fascinated by those veins, and gave most of his attention to their study. ¡°You¡¯ve convinced them all to go on some suicide errand for you.¡±


    ¡°They go because they believe in fighting against the shackles of England.¡±


    ¡°Maybe some of them. Not all of them. If it was all of them, there would be no need for a speech like that.¡±


    Laurier looked at him. The man sees right through me. He found that refreshing. The Ladyman did so tire of everyone agreeing with him. Occasionally it was fun to have disagreement, even argument. He shrugged. ¡°In any case, you have no need to worry, my friend. For I would not dream of forcing you to fight against your own people.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t obey the order if you gave it,¡± Belmont countered.


    ¡°Of course. But you know I cannot release you once we get to Port Royal, not immediately, not until I have what I came for.¡±


    ¡°You mean who.¡±


    Laurier shrugged. ¡°Who. What. It¡¯s all the same.¡± He looked at his hand and became disgusted all over again with how he couldn¡¯t feel any of Belmont¡¯s proddings, and he yanked it away and stood up and paced to the windows. He stared for a moment and said, ¡°This Long Night¡­do you think we will survive it?¡±


    ¡°You mean this particular one, or all the ones to come?¡±


    ¡°So, you don¡¯t think this will end.¡±


    Belmont sighed and clapped his thighs and stood up. ¡°I may know my physic, but I¡¯m a soldier at heart, and soldiers believe things will get worse before they get better. Soldiers are usually right about that sort of thing.¡±


    Laurier snorted. With his left hand, he pulled up his shirt, and looked at the cuts across his belly. In his sleep, the Corrupted hand often twitched, and slashed out against his surroundings. There were gashes across his chest and legs, against the walls beside his bed, in his pillow, which was on the floor right now, spilling its feathers. He¡¯d had to sew one of his cuts and apply hot iron, for it was so deep. He¡¯d dreamt once that the hand had tried to strangle him in his sleep. He wondered if it had been a dream.


    ¡°The world is changing, Belmont. What will you do when the sun sets for the last time? Crops will continue to fail. I¡¯ve heard of famines¡ªone in Japan a hundred years ago, and another one in China some eighty years ago¡ªthat lasted so long people began eating each other. Where will you want to be when all the food has run out?¡±


    Belmont didn¡¯t need to think about his answer. ¡°I¡¯ll want to be with my family. Those I love.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s funny, I want the same.¡± Laurier said, turning to him. ¡°Someone to be with when it¡¯s all ending.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t end like this. God won¡¯t let it.¡±


    Laurier laughed. ¡°Hear this man! Forsaken by God and thrown to the pirates, and sure to return to Port Royal in shame. Yet still he speaks of God¡¯s glory and goodness.¡±


    Belmont bristled. ¡°I don¡¯t appreciate hearing the Lord spoken of so flippantly.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t appreciate Him treating us so flippantly.¡±


    The militiaman bristled again, then chuckled to himself.


    ¡°I¡¯ve said something funny?¡±


    ¡°What is all this about, Ladyman?¡± Belmont asked. ¡°Where do you think this is all going? The Age of Piracy is at an end, surely you see that. Even privateers like your friend Vhingfrith are no longer safe, they¡¯re seen as the twin to your kind. And now that I¡¯ve seen you at work I cannot but fathom you are a man who sees things before they happen. You know that there is no ending to the path you¡¯re on that doesn¡¯t include a gallows. And yet you fight on. Why?¡±


    Laurier walked over to his desk, opened a drawer with his left hand, and pulled out a bottle of bourbon with his right. The Corrupted hand poured with uncommon precision, never spilling a drop, nor altering steady pour, no matter how the ship swayed. He lifted the glass to his lips, held only by his five razor-sharp talons. Belmont looked unnerved by it, which was the point.


    ¡°Have you ever heard of Libertalia?¡± Laurier asked.


    Belmont winced. ¡°I¡¯ve heard of it. A supposed secret pirate haven, somewhere on Madagascar. The legend is that someone intends on building a permanent settlement there, to be the capital city of the Caribbean, and the grand central city of the Republic of Pirates.¡±


    ¡°A legend? You don¡¯t believe in it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all myth.¡±


    ¡°Pirate myth?¡±


    ¡°Something that size cannot be built without anyone knowing¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why not? And give me the particulars.¡±


    Belmont scratched his chin and shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s just too big to exist and no one know about it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t dodge the question. Be specific. Why must it be a myth?¡±


    Belmont sighed. ¡°I helped build Fort Carlisle. I watched Port Royal grow to the size it is. For an operation that size, one would require capital, investment, resources beyond measure, architects willing to live among pirates for several seasons, and workers disciplined enough to complete the task over several years.¡± Belmont shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s not something pirates have. Not for long. They¡¯re too busy squandering it on¡­¡± He trailed off.


    ¡°Go on, say it.¡±


    ¡°Whores and liquor.¡±


    Laurier sighed, drank, and paced.


    ¡°Is that why you came here, Captain Laurier? They say there¡¯s a hundred reasons why the Ladyman does anything.¡±


    ¡°Is that what they say?¡± Laurier laughed. ¡°Belmont, are you completely dedicated to King and country? To the Crown, and nothing else?¡±


    ¡°That is my duty, so yes.¡±


    ¡°What if I offered you half of my share of the Spanish treasure we hold? And all you have to do is stay on my ship and teach me, help remind me of the maneuvers England will attempt against us. And if I said it was for a year. A year tenure with us. If I contracted you for that long, what would you say?¡±


    Belmont bristled once again. Gathered his bag. ¡°Will that be all, Captain?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t summon you. You came of your own accord. But yes, you may go.¡±


    Belmont left.


    John continued looking out at the Long Night. Then he looked down at his Corrupted hand. ¡°Fuck you,¡± he said to it. It didn¡¯t react. Didn¡¯t acknowledge it knew what he was saying at all. ¡°Fuck you.¡± John paced a moment, pulling out the silver locket Munt had handed him. Ben¡¯s locket. The other half of his soul. He paced around the room, scraping his talons across his desk, until those long, charred fingers touched the hilt of his cutlass, lying there on the desk. John lifted the sword. Gripped it tight. Gave it a soft, elegant swing, as smooth as a fish through water.


    ____


    After clearing everything with Munt, Laurier walked back over to Braithwaite, and shook his hand (making sure to use his left hand). ¡°I¡¯m grateful for this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the one should be grateful, John. There are no real explorers left in the West Indies, it¡¯s all been discovered, so no one has need of a diving bell much these days. And with this perhaps being the End of Days¡­well, no one has use for my contraptions anymore.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re certain it will work?¡±


    ¡°Better than any diving bell you¡¯ll find in the world. You can trust me on that, old friend.¡± Braithwaite adjusted his spectacles, and made a pained face. ¡°Did you see Cockrell?¡±


    Laurier shrugged. ¡°We spoke. He¡¯s going to be doing me a favour. I have nothing more to say to him besides business.¡±


    Braithwaite winced. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that. I remember you once said how very close you were. And I remember how he protected you when¡­well¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°All that¡¯s water under the bridge now, eh?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, old friend.¡± Laurier looked out at the dark, choppy waters. At the Long Night. ¡°Indeed. Very ancient. And that bridge is far, far from here.¡±

 First Interlude: The Leaving of London

    rookery ¨C A dense collection of houses, particularly in overcrowded slums. The term is taken from the breeding colonies for rooks, where their nests are piled one on top of the other.


    Newgate bird ¨C Someone escaped from Newgate Prison.


    ¡°KILL HIM, JOHNNY! Kill him! For the love of fucking God, kill him now!¡±


    The constable¡¯s thumb was in his eye. So John, hardly knowing how to fight, did the same back to him. He must¡¯ve gotten lucky, his thumb raked right across the bigger man¡¯s eye and he let up, only for a second. It was enough. John reached to his inside coat pocket and pulled out a knife and jabbed it into the constable¡¯s chest.


    But he felt it hit bone. Become lodged. The constable screamed and hammered John¡¯s face with a huge, meaty fist. He saw stars and the world swam and the ground rose up to meet his face. A boot landed in his gut. John gasped. He knew he was dead now. When he looked up through bleary eyes and saw the sun peeking through dark clouds, and the silhouette of his killer towering over him, he knew he was dead. But luck saved him, the constable must¡¯ve slipped on something, because when he tried to stomp John¡¯s head his other knee buckled and he lurched sideways.


    ¡°Kill him! Johnny, if you don¡¯t kill him he¡¯s gonna bloody murder us both¡ª¡± Ellis was shouting from somewhere at the other end of the alley.


    John used the wall of a livery to stand up. When he got to his feet, he tried to run. He very nearly left Ellis right where he was. But the constable rose up from the earth like a devil determined to bring him down to meet the flames of Perdition, grabbed the lapel of his coat, and jerked him back. God help me! John rounded on him, swung, and broke his hand at the same time he cracked the constable¡¯s jaw. John tried to scream but his chest was still constricted from the kick to the gut. But he saw something else. Another staggering bit of luck. The constable¡¯s tongue had happened to be sticking out when John struck him, and the constable¡¯s teeth had bitten his own tongue. John uppercutted him again, and the tongue was bitten so hard it sent a cascade of blood down the constable¡¯s chin and neck.


    But the constable never let go of his lapel. John tried to wriggle free but none of the fencing training his father had paid for covered a brawl like this. Good God, no fighting has ever been¡ª


    The constable pulled John in and beat him, one-handed, across his skull, across his chest and stomach, again and again. John held his hands up in useless supplication.


    ¡°Kill him, Johnny!¡± Ellis¡¯s voice was reaching a new, desperate pitch. ¡°Kill the fucking bastard!¡±


    The constable slipped again and fell over, and this time he brought down John with him. They landed in a stinking pile of offal and sewage. John¡¯s head cracked against a pile of old horseshoes someone had thrown out, and the constable, whose gut was as large and thick as a barrel, struggled to regain the advantage by straddling John¡¯s chest. Two meaty fists rained down on him, one after the other. John tasted copper and zinc and tried to cry out for help but he could hardly breathe. And who would help a sewer rat getting beaten by a constable?


    In between punches he was aware of a few faces peeking down the alley, but all of them ran, including Edward, the boy John had shared his bread with just last week, and Susanne, the woman John had directed to the church where they were handing out free soup. None of them came to help him now. John¡¯s hands came up in weak defence of his head, pushing and clawing at the constable¡¯s face¡ª


    His fingers touched something slippery. Something sticking out of the constable¡¯s side.


    Knife was the only word that leapt to his mind.


    ¡°Killllll himmmmm, Johnnyyyyyy!¡±


    The knife was still stuck between the constable¡¯s ribs.


    ¡°Killllll¡ª¡±


    John grabbed hold, twisted, and yanked it out. His enemy growled and lifted his fist to swing again when John slashed wildly at his face.


    And opened his throat.


    The constable threw two more punches to John¡¯s head. John nearly blacked out. In fact he probably did. Because next thing he knew, he was face down trying to stand. Trying to breathe. Trying to anything. And when he climbed to his knees he saw the puddle of blood. Looked around. Found the constable. The fella was clutching his throat, then suddenly remembered the truncheon looped through his belt, and pulled it, and charged at John.


    John just sort of fell backward meekly, and the tip of the club swiped his cheekbone, busting open his flesh. The constable reared back for another strike, then staggered back and dropped the club and now used both hands to clutch his throat. He turned and ran, disappearing at the mouth of the alley.


    ¡°Johnny! Get the knife, Johnny! Cut me loose! Johnny? Johhny! Don¡¯t you fucking pass out, mate! Get you that knife! See it? See the knife, Johnny? It¡¯s right beside you!¡±


    John was only vaguely aware that that was his name. Knife? What knife? He saw it somewhere amid the dark red puddle. Absently, he reached for it. The knife fell from numb fingers. He tried again, and again, and again, and on the fourth attempt his fingers finally remembered their purpose. He gripped the knife, turned back to the end of the alley, and saw Ellis there. He looked funny. John laughed. ¡°What¡ªare you¡ªdoing¡ªall tied up?¡± he wheezed.


    Then he remembered. The woman in the blue bonnet, Ellis had been watching her in the market for three days, always with a large purse. Ellis had John do the following, while he did the asking around. Together, they surmised she made drop-offs at the bank for her husband. The purse was likely full of money. Ellis had John dress up as a woman, since he had the dresses and the voice down pat. John lured her¡­somewhere. Behind a milliner¡¯s shop, yes. But something went wrong. She was a fighter. Ellis struck her over the head with a club¡ª


    ¡ªwhere did he get the fucking club?¡ªhe never said he was going to¡ª


    And then they were running. But the woman wasn¡¯t knocked out. She screamed. And then two watchmen rounded the corner and saw them running away. Blew their whistles. John and Ellis made it halfway across St. Giles. Thought they got away. But word in the streets was a constable had recognized the descriptions the watchmen gave. And he was here, in St. Giles, looking for them. They said the constable¡¯s name was¡­something long¡­something French-sounding¡­but he liked to tie the young ones up. And beat them.


    ¡°Johnny!¡±


    And then what? He must¡¯ve ambushed us. That must be why John remembered almost nothing until he was gouging the man¡¯s eye. Must¡¯ve got a knock on the head. The constable thought John was out, and left him alone while he tied Ellis to the¡ª


    Pipes. Ellis¡¯s hands were tied behind his back, around a sewage pipe coming from the tenements. His hands were fastened by knotty hempen rope, his face battered and bloody.


    John took two tentative steps towards Ellis, knife out. He knew he wasn¡¯t going to be able to cut him free of the pipes. So he lunged forward and threw it.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s no good, Johnny! My hands are all tied up! You¡¯re going to have to do it¡ª¡±


    John collapsed onto the gravel.


    ¡°Johnny!¡±


    A set of footsteps rushed past. John did not know the toothless woman that lifted up the knife and cut Ellis free, but he imagined she might have seen her share of abuse at the hands of the constables, because once she had them free she pushed the knife into Ellis¡¯s hands and ran away. The good deed was done, and Ellis bent to haul John to his feet. John leaned against a wall until Ellis could throw him over his back. John hung from Ellis¡¯s right shoulder, staring down vacantly as his friend¡¯s feet splashed through water, sewage, and the constable¡¯s blood, all of which ran down a drain at the center of sloped ground.


    I¡¯m a killer now. Oh, God, I¡¯m a killer.


    ____


    ¡°He¡¯s dead, everybody¡¯s saying,¡± said Agatha. She pressed a wet washcloth to John¡¯s brow. He was vaguely aware that he¡¯d been in and out, and he¡¯d been catching snippets of this same conversation, which seemed to last a week or a month or a year. ¡°They¡¯ll hang you two fer it, and no doubt. You two¡¯d best be gone before they set their sights on this place.¡±


    John looked around, and when he did, he became a little dizzy and almost vomited. He was on a straw mattress on somebody¡¯s floor. Bright sunlight came through the slits of wooden boards all around. It was cold and musty, like they were in someone¡¯s attic. Agatha¡¯s room upstairs from The Jolly Swing, where she worked.


    John looked at his hands. I¡¯m a killer now. I killed someone. With these. It did not feel real. It felt like it had happened to someone else.


    He looked around. Ellis was a blurry figure at one side of the room, peeking through curtains at a window too tiny for escape if they had to. He and Agatha spoke quickly. ¡°¡ªnot gonna move Johnny just now¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªbetter to move him and see how he does, than to wait for¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªthey don¡¯t know we¡¯re here, no one does¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªand how long d¡¯ye think it¡¯ll be before someone tells them you and I like to occasionally fuck?¡±


    ¡°¡ªand if I leave, I may have to leave Johnny here¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªcan¡¯t take care of him here! You both have to go. Now. Tonight¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªcan¡¯t go anywhere else besides¡ª¡±


    John tried to stand. Agatha and Ellis both helped him up while they kept arguing.


    ¡°¡ªcan¡¯t understand why you don¡¯t see what¡¯s plain in front o¡¯ yeh? You need to leave the bloody city¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªdon¡¯t know anyone outside the bloody¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªyou could ask Sam, he¡¯s got¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªjust can¡¯t, I said! His father already hates me for¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªthen what about Sam¡¯s girl? What¡¯s her name? Beth!¡±


    ¡°¡ªcan¡¯t imagine she¡¯ll have room for us, not with her brother just moved in. That fella from the press-gang.¡±


    ¡°¡ªthen you need to think of something else¡ª¡±


    John tried to speak, but his lips were swollen and caked in scabrous sores. Some of them from the beating, some of them from the infection he and others had gotten from the bread at the church. It hurt to breathe, to blink, to exist. His hand was wrapped in bandages. Felt broken, all right, although he¡¯d never had a broken hand before. This must be what it feels like.


    ¡°¡ªwe can¡¯t bloody fucking leave London! We can¡¯t even get beyond St. Giles, the bloody fucking constables¡¯ve got them roadblocks going up¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hang on¡­the press-gang, you said?¡± said Agatha.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You said Sam¡¯s girlfriend¡¯s brother just moved in with her, and he¡¯s with the press-gangs?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, so?¡±


    ¡°Oh, sweet Mary, you¡¯ve never been burdened with too many wits, have yeh, Ellis Cockrell? There¡¯s your bloody answer! The press-gangs. They¡¯re desperate right now, they¡¯re not even asking for proper papers, all yeh have to do is the same trick Arthur Banks¡¯s brother did¡ªyou remember Arthur Banks, don¡¯t yeh, Ellis?¡±


    ¡°I remember him. So?¡±


    ¡°¡ªyeh can join up! Go with the press-gangs to¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°¡ªyeh just have to go to a cemetery and get the name of a baby that died within a couple o¡¯ months of its birth, within a few years of when you were born¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not going to do that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just listen! Then yeh take those babies¡¯ names, yeh visit the churches, maybe those hospitals close by and they¡¯ll give yeh the mothers¡¯ names, the fathers¡¯, they¡¯ll tell yeh if there were any siblings, if they were Catholic or Protestant or whatever, all o¡¯ that. Then yeh have all yeh need to sign up. That¡¯s if the press-gangs even ask. Yeh usually don¡¯t even need that much. Honest, Ellis! Then yeh show up to the docks any Tuesday or Thursday by eight o¡¯clock and have yer duffel. Long as yeh don¡¯t have any lice or anything¡ª¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t¡ªleave¡ªLondon,¡± John croaked. Every word hurt, and his hands quivered to touch his bruised stomach. And his balls hurt. He didn¡¯t even understand how that had happened.


    ¡°Why bloody not?¡± said Agatha.


    ¡°Because my¡ªmy parents are here. You join the navy¡ªyou don¡¯t come back.¡±


    Ellis nodded eagerly. ¡°Too bloody right. Especially since we¡¯d have to use fake names. We¡¯d have the lowest of the lowest ranks. I don¡¯t even know what they do on them ships, but I heard they put the lower-class people in something call the bilge. Full o¡¯ shit and piss!¡±


    Agatha shook her head. ¡°My cousin was in the navy, that¡¯s not what the bilge is. That is, I mean, it can have shit and piss, but¡­look it doesn¡¯t fucking matter, boys! You two killed a constable!¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t¡ªknow our names,¡± John wheezed.


    ¡°No, sweetie, but they know yer faces. So here¡¯s what yeh do. Yeh vanish for a while. Live as somebody else. Grow a little, grow yourselves some beards, let your hair grow out, let the sun give them fair skins a good tanning. Then, when yeh come back, yeh take up yer old lives like yeh were just on holiday. That¡¯s it. Couple o¡¯ years and the constables will have time to find someone else to blame for what you two¡ª¡±


    ¡°Couple of years?¡± said Ellis. ¡°Couple of years, she says!¡±


    ¡°Years yeh won¡¯t have if yeh stay here, Ellis Cockrell. I guarantee it to yeh both. Stay here, an¡¯ I guarantee you¡¯ll swing from a rope. Yeh know I¡¯m right. Johnny? Yeh know I¡¯m right, don¡¯t yeh?¡±


    Ellis snorted derisively. ¡°Stupidest fucking plan I ever heard.¡± But when he looked over at John, he must have seen a different perspective staring back at him. Because John was fed up. To the point he would have wept if he had the tears left. His mother and father had shunned him, but it wasn¡¯t until that moment that John realized that being here in the city had allowed him some small hope of reconciliation with them. Close proximity made it more possible, but to sail off to God knows where¡­


    No chance to reconcile. No chance ever. And yet¡­


    ¡°Stupidest plan, it may be,¡± John said. ¡°Perhaps only other one close is snatching purses like a couple o¡¯ fucking prigs.¡± He coughed up a gob of blood. Felt a pain inside his mouth. Reached to the back of his top teeth, and felt a molar wiggle. He looked over at Ellis, who looked devastated. Then he looked at Agatha. ¡°Tuesdays and Thursdays, you said?¡±


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Agatha nodded. ¡°By eight o¡¯clock.¡±


    ____


    Moss covered most of the tombstones at Bunhill Fields. Tall grass grew up around stone angels and cracked placards. That made it very easy to spot the more recent graves, easier than all the graves at the churchyard had been. The rain was coming down in sheets. John walked silently beside Ellis, holding his coat over Ellis¡¯s head so that he could write down names on a list. This was the sixth graveyard they had checked in as many days, if this didn¡¯t work then they would need another plan.


    I¡¯m a killer now. The thought would not leave him. I have killed a man. What¡¯s next? Hell? I never meant to¡ª


    ¡°All right,¡± Ellis said, wiping rain from his face, and using a charcoal stick to write down another name on his arm. ¡°There¡¯s one or two here might work. Christ, Johnny, keep that coat over my head!¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°This one was born in back in ¡¯87. Think you might pass for fourteen, if you keep shaved.¡±


    ¡°Agatha said this probably isn¡¯t even necessary,¡± John said, shivering. His clothes were drenched through and through. ¡°We probably don¡¯t even need false names. The press-gangs will take anybody right now. They¡¯re desperate¡ª¡±


    ¡°We need to be thorough, Johnny. How many times I gotta tell you? If we¡¯re going to do this, we can¡¯t be half-smart about it. We need these names to create fake papers, in case they check birth certificates.¡± He glanced sidelong at John. ¡°Fucking Christ. If you¡¯d only¡­¡± He trailed off.


    ¡°If I¡¯d only what?¡±


    ¡°Nothin¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Go on, say it.¡±


    Ellis rounded on him. ¡°If you¡¯d only held on to that fucking constable¡¯s coat, or his leg, something, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to run off like that and die where everybody could bloody see him! We could¡¯ve hidden his body¡ª¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t my fault! It was your idea to take the lady¡¯s purse! Your idea to ambush her like that, with me in a bloody dress¡ª¡±


    ¡°Only because your only bloody talent is dressing up like a bloody nonce!¡±


    John stepped back like he was struck. ¡°You don¡¯t mean that. Say you don¡¯t mean that, Ellis¡ª¡±


    Ellis balled up his fist and reared back. Stopped himself. Then he grabbed John by the shoulders and shook him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, John. You¡¯re my brother, you know that. You know that, right?¡±


    John nodded.


    ¡°Then come on. We need to visit St. Thomas¡¯s, see if any of them know the mothers¡¯ names.¡±


    ¡°Ellis?¡±


    ¡°What, Johnny?¡±


    He hesitated. ¡°Are we really¡­are we really going to sail?¡±


    Ellis sighed, and nodded. ¡°Yes, John. I suppose we are.¡±


    ¡°To where? What if they don¡¯t put us on the same boat? Will we ever see each other again?¡±


    Ellis chuckled, and clapped John¡¯s cheeks. ¡°They¡¯re called ships, not boats. And you always say in a ship, not on it. And the truth is, Johnny, I don¡¯t know. I just don¡¯t fuckin¡¯ know. But we¡¯ll make it work. I swear, by God, we will make this work. Once friends, always friends. I¡¯ll never leave you, mate. Not ever.¡±


    ____


    The constables and watchmen were indeed out in force, scouring the streets of St. Giles, kicking in the front and back doors of drinking halls everywhere, invading the rookeries at night, dozens of club-wielding men in black cloaks and grim faces storming into tenements and overturning cribs with babies still in them. The constables beat one boy to death who tried to run when he saw his friends get pinched. They smashed windows and gelded two stallions belonging to a breeder. They even were said to have started the fire on Brunser Street. Their wrath seemed unquenchable.


    There was no way else around the roadblocks. No way except Agatha¡¯s brother-in-law, who agreed to do her this one favour, long as she gave him a fat pig in exchange, and long as it was only for one trip to the harbour. His name was Paul and he was a drover, and carried heaps of dung in a wagon across the city to one of his business partners, who then took the manure farther north to sell to the farmers in Celmont.


    No one searched dung. Not usually. But the constables were wrathful just now, and they were stopping wagons in the street at random, so who knew what they might do?


    John and Ellis laid down as comfortably as they could on the smelly wagon floor. Agatha threw a sheet over them so that they might breathe for a while. Then straw was poured over them, then the dung. John gagged many times, but it was Ellis who finally vomited. In total darkness, John heard Ellis laughing. It wasn¡¯t a good laugh. It wasn¡¯t a healthy one.


    Which meant he wasn¡¯t going to like hearing what John had to say next. ¡°Ellis, I¡¯m not sure I can go through with this.¡±


    The wagon jumped as it hit a hole in the road. After that was silence for a while.


    ¡°John, we¡¯ve come too far now. I wasn¡¯t excited about it, either, but now¡­it¡¯s the best thing, Johnny boy. You were right. Agatha was right. It¡¯s this or nothing. It¡¯s this or¡ª¡±


    ¡°But my father¡­and my mother¡­they won¡¯t know what happened to me¡ª¡±


    Ellis¡¯s hand was on his throat, squeezing, in the dark, in the wretched, stinking dark. ¡°They don¡¯t know what¡¯s happened to you now, Johnny! They turned you out of the house and left you with what? With what?¡± Ellis slapped him. ¡°For all they know, you¡¯re dead already. But right now, no one has tied your name to the murder of a constable. But everyone knows our faces, and those rat-fucking bastards in the alley who saw us, they¡¯ll peg us as the ones did it! But even those sewer rats only know our first names, they don¡¯t know our families, they don¡¯t know who we are. But if we don¡¯t leave now, and make the trail cold for a while, they will. And we won¡¯t see trial, Johnny! We¡¯ll be hanged! Right in the fucking square! We¡¯ll be¡ª¡± He paused to gag. When he spoke again, Ellis was a bit calmer, and gave John¡¯s cheek a pinch. ¡°Just sit tight, Johnny. Just a little longer. Almost there.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, almost there.¡±


    After a long beat when nothing was said, Ellis laughed. ¡°Fuck Benedict Laurier.¡±


    John laughed. ¡°Yeah. Fuck him.¡± But his humour soon died, and a dark thought returned to him on black wings. ¡°Ellis, am I damned? I¡ªI killed¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hush, Johnny. Almost there. We¡¯re almost out.¡±


    John said nothing else about it. They were carried easily away from those dangerous streets, where constables were still looking for them. But they still weren¡¯t safe, not yet.


    ____


    It was too easy getting aboard the Equinox. Agatha was right, they didn¡¯t even need their counterfeit papers. They didn¡¯t even need the names of the dead babies they¡¯d taken from the graves, nor the names of their mothers or extended family. The press-gang was waiting on a corner in front of a cheese shop, exactly where Agatha said they would be. ¡°We can¡¯t look too eager,¡± Ellis said. ¡°Remember, it¡¯s all about looks. If we look desperate to join up they¡¯ll assume we¡¯re on the run for something. Remember, not too eager, Johnny. They¡¯ll approach us, press us to join. We must put up a bit of a fight because that¡¯s what everybody does. We have to look like everybody else, Johnny.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Here, dip your fingers in this.¡± It was a bit of ink in a small bottle. ¡°Run it over your fingertips.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡±


    ¡°Makes ¡¯em look a bit tar-stained, like a sailor.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°Sailors use tar to repair stuff, I think. Makes things waterproof. That¡¯s why they call sailors ¡®tars.¡¯¡±


    ¡°They do?¡±


    ¡°Christ, Johnny, just do as I say. And remember, put up a fight.¡±


    And they did exactly that. The seven tall men descended on John and Ellis almost before their hands touched the door to the cheese shop. They surrounded them and asked them their ages, their names. Ellis shouted, ¡°Run, Connor!¡± Using John¡¯s new name. Ellis made a show of trying to run, but allowed himself to get caught. John did not have to pretend to be frozen by fear, he was, but when they grabbed him he did try and shove the press-men away. Ultimately, they were detained, and sent to the wharf for holding.


    There, they were pressed. An officious old woman with a pen and paper scribbled their names on parchment and stamped it. They were put into a room that looked like a jail cell, iron bars and all, along with ten other boys all between fourteen and twenty. Some of them were Newgate birds, he was sure. All looked terrified. Marines with muskets paced by at all hours, making sure no one even thought of attempting escape.


    John and Ellis sat quietly together in one corner, trying to sleep, watching out for one another.


    The next day they were put on a tender, a ship that was barely more than a jail with sails, and sent away. Then the HMS Equinox came for them, and they and forty others were shuffled aboard their very first ship. It happened that fast. John was trembling as he ascended the gangplank.


    ____


    ¡°This is a double knot,¡± said the instructor. He stood before dozens of sullen-faced boys, some of them with bloody lips or broken arms from when they had tried to run. ¡°And this,¡± he said, using his elbow to loop many folds of rope around before tying a knot around his thumb, ¡°is a shank knot.¡± He undid it, and showed them again. ¡°Double knot. Shank knot. Double knot. Shank knot. Got it? The shank knot is used to shorten or remove slack from a rope. It can also be used to bypass a frayed section of a rope, making it so you don¡¯t have to toss out the whole rope just because one section is damaged. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± they murmured.


    They were outside under a tent, sitting on their arses, on some island John had never heard of before. He was terrified by moving forward through time by habit. Ellis was near the front of the class, while John had been placed at the back. He kept looking back at the tent¡¯s entrance, the flap gently pushed by a breeze. He kept thinking how close it was, how easy it would be to run away.


    ¡°This will be very important when you reel in the sails,¡± the instructor said. ¡°To undo a shank knot, you simply pull at these two sections ¡¯ere¡ª¡± He paced in front of them, demonstrating, an old man with knotted hands, most of his hair missing in clumps around red welts on his scalp. His flesh was brown and leathery from too much sun. A lifetime at sea, no shade. John was afraid just listening to him talk about ropes. He could not make himself believe this was real. They had made a terrible mistake. This could not be real. Perhaps if he went back to St. Giles and explained to someone in the courts what had happened¡ª


    ¡°This is a round turn and half hitch,¡± said the instructor, making another knot. ¡°You¡¯ll use this¡¯un a lot to hook around a chain or some other loop, to hang heavy storage, per¡¯aps netting to suspend barrels on the ceiling. Yes, sometimes you¡¯ll need to store the cargo on the ceiling to make room for the crew to move about¡ª¡±


    This went on for days, and it had a greying effect on John¡¯s wits, where one hungry day bled into the next, his belly aching for berries or real bread or beef or anything substantive. The hardtack they were fed was disgusting, and he was told to get used to it, for that was a large portion of their meals once out to sea.


    ¡°Lift the skin up, and put into the bunt the slack of the clews, but never too taut,¡± the instructor said, even in John¡¯s dreams. ¡°The leech and the foot-rope the same, being careful ne¡¯er to let it get for¡¯ard under or hang down abaft¡ª¡±


    ____


    The third day at sea, he could finally take no more. The seasickness kicked in during a light squall and the cramped, festering, stinking confines of the forecastle caused him panic. A handful of crewmen laughed while he vomited over the side. John thought about leaping into the water, as had heard two other lads had done, hoping to swim home, not realizing just how far it was. But John knew it was too far, and yet still thought about jumping. Not because of seasickness, but because the night before, two men had gotten him drunk off rum and tried to get his breeches off, but luckily Ellis had awoken in his hammock, screamed for help, and the quartermaster had heard and come just in time, and the men were now in the brig waiting to receive lashings tomorrow at sunrise.


    Once he was done retching, John staggered back down below, only to have someone clout his ear. ¡°Up top! Now! Look fast on that yardarm!¡± said the same quartermaster that had rescued him the night before.


    John¡¯s stomach flopped several times at just the thought of it. They pressed all the new boys to go up top even when they weren¡¯t needed, if only to get used to their environment and watch others do the work. To train. To hold things for the carpenters while they made repairs. To tie extra knots around the cargo to secure it for a storm. To climb the ratlines and help reel in the sheets. His hands, never once used to hard work before, not even when he met Ellis and became a thief in the rookeries of St. Giles, were already coated in blisters. And he wasn¡¯t alone in that; a ship¡¯s surgeon had him and the other boys put their hands into bowls of vinegar and olive oil. It did little good.


    And all he thought was, I want to go home. I¡¯ll never show such affection for a man ever again. I¡¯ll keep the desires of my heart in check and do as Father says. I¡¯ll find a woman to marry and have children. Just please, God, let this be over. Let us find a way home.


    ____


    The lashings had a muting effect on the crew, and witnessing the crack of each whip across the backs of his assailants made John wilt. The blood flowed onto the deck and it made him sick, it reminded him of the constable¡¯s blood spilling onto the ground¡ªI¡¯m a killer now. The blood flowed and crewmen removed their hats, which he later learned was a crew¡¯s silent show of respect to the men who they saw being unfairly maligned and mutilated.


    And soon, by and large, the crew stopped speaking to John, and he knew it was somehow because of what had happened.


    He spent lots of his free time playing Hazard, a game where a player cast dice and bet on the outcome. The caster had to call out a number between five and nine before chucking the dice. This was called the main. If they rolled the main, the caster nicks¡ªwins. If they rolled a two or three, it was called outing¡ªlosing. If they neither nicked nor outed, it¡¯s called a chance and they roll again, and if they roll the chance once more, they won. Betting money was forbidden aboard a ship, because it could create bitterness between the men and ruin the gestalt, but men could bet trinkets like buttons or string just for fun.


    John played with the two or three fellows that didn¡¯t seem to mind him. Keeping his mind focused on Hazard kept him away from thinking about the feeling of isolation. He tended to win a lot, perhaps because he understood the maths, the probabilities. He knew that the most common number to achieve when rolling two six-sided dice was seven. He most often bet on seven, but mixed it up by betting on five or nine so as not to be too obvious about it.


    Funny how easy it is to manipulate other men, he often thought when casting, when they don¡¯t have all the information you do. Few of them could read. Fewer could count above twenty.


    This went on for uncounted days. Whenever John asked where they were going, the answer was usually something like, ¡°To trade with the islanders.¡± John caught on that many sailors thought the nippers were annoying, and that they sort of hated being asked too many questions, and expected the nippers to only train and learn the ropes and work the sails and swab the decks.


    Another squall came and went. Then a storm, and one man was washed overboard. John had been below, fighting off sickness and working the bilge with Ellis, when he heard the news they were minus one soul. That night he had a hard time sleeping, swinging in his hammock, listening to the men snoring, thinking he heard the drowned man¡¯s ghost calling out for help.


    And then Ellis was suddenly in the brig. John only knew that he had been accused of siphoning an extra ration of rum during the night. Ellis claimed innocence, but it did not matter, because he was held overnight until Captain Garner could pass judgment. Which meant he wasn¡¯t there when the same three men came for John again. And this time, they succeeded in getting his breeches off.


    But they did nothing else to him. They tried, but John heard Ellis¡¯s voice in his head, over and over again. Kill them, Johnny! Fucking kill them! And so he fought, and clawed, and kicked, and by the end it caused such a ruckus that the other crew in their hammocks¡ªwho hitherto seemed all right letting it all transpire as planned¡ªsuddenly became angry that they couldn¡¯t sleep for all the noise, and were also getting worried the quartermaster would hear. So they pulled the three men off of John and he regathered his breeches and pulled them on and stormed out of the forecastle and slept on the top deck for the remainder of the voyage.


    ____


    Royce Garner had been the captain of the HMS Equinox for eleven years, and believed in having little rapport with his crew. Rather than learning any of their names or telling them when they did a fair or miserable job, he only shouted at them during daylight hours, then became a recluse at night and trusted the workings to his first mate, Mr. Felt.


    Mr. Felt was a tall man who always worked shirtless, revealing the crisscrossing scars on his chest and back, which he claimed he¡¯d gotten from some Caribee tribe when he was taken prisoner ages ago. Felt took both John and Ellis under his wing when he saw they had a knack for staying up way past sunset. He put them on second-watch duty, alternating between helping the lookouts in the crow¡¯s nest and working with the linemen to make sure they never ran aground when they skirted close to an island.


    At the time, Equinox had no orders to sink any ships. The Spaniards still controlled most of the Caribbean, but that was fast changing. There were reports of battles all over the West Indies Sea. Ships that met them at sea spread the rumours. The Royal Navy had doubled their efforts at shipbuilding and naval combat drills, and had invented a new rank¡ªCommodore¡ªto be given to the most advanced and knowledgeable naval captains. The Commodores were already bending the Spaniards over a barrel and chasing them across the Caribbean.


    The Equinox stayed at sea for weeks at a time, and always anchored within the protection of a heavily wooded inlet. At all times, John was aware that they were maneuvering through some dangerous waters. The Spaniards and the French had spread across these waters like plague, and the kings of each country only wanted more.


    They heard tell of ships sinking all over. The Caribbean seabed was reportedly filling up with them. ¡°Almost to the point you can walk across the ocean, from one foundered ship to the next,¡± one sea captain had joked when they met him and his vessel careening on an unnamed island.


    They visited numerous islands and Captain Garner parlayed with the natives, traded with the small British and Dutch colonies that were spreading about. John learned the Equinox was a packet ship, essentially paid to transport letters and packages from one island to another, and that it was vital to keeping communications going between all the islands.


    They traveled all over, John¡¯s skin always red from too much sun. They heard rumours of battles, of the Commodores conducting great ambushes throughout the Caribbean. But the sun rose and fell almost six hundred times before John Laurier ever saw his first battle.


    ____


    Like the fight with the constable, it all soon became a blur. John remembered someone calling out, ¡°Sail ho!¡± and the captain rushing to the bow of the ship, shouting, ¡°Where away?¡± and the spotter in the maintop saying something about ¡°A point off the starboard bow¡± or close to that. John watched along with Ellis at the railing, saw the Dutch flag. A merchantman. They had learned what those were and how to spot them.


    There was smoke coming from the ship, like they¡¯d sustained a fire. Someone stood on their prow waving a flag of distress. They slowed their speed and dropped anchor. The Equinox also slowed down and came alongside them. That¡¯s when a trebuchet, hitherto concealed by sagging sails, was revealed and launched a flaming barrel across at them. It exploded upon impact behind John, at the same time the air was rent by the multiple firings of the pirate vessel¡¯s cannons.


    This was the first time John had ever heard of this trick. Pirates posing as merchants in distress. He screamed and looked for Ellis but Ellis wasn¡¯t there.


    It was chaos. The fire spread, forcing men to have to decide on whether to douse the flames or man the cannons. The Royal Marines were just as confused, for their major¡¯s head had been taken off by a cannon shot, John saw the decapitated body pumping blood onto the deck. It was unclear who was in charge, where the orders ought to be coming from. The crew had run drills for combat scenarios but neither John nor Ellis had never been a part of that.


    A lucky shot must¡¯ve gone through Equinox¡¯s keel in that first volley, because soon they were taking on water even as they tried to run. Ellis, appearing out of the crowd, grabbed John and they both ran for the swords and pistols being handed out by the quartermaster, but by that time the ropes were being thrown over, the grappling hooks dug into the railing. Men with axes tried to hack the lines away, but too late, because a second ship, which had been hiding just over the horizon, came sweeping in, completing the trap. Here came the Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge, a towering galleon of unparalleled size and awesome guns.


    John felt his legs turn to water, and he knew that surely, finally, at last, his sad and pathetic story had come to a close. But his story had only just begun, for this was to be his introduction to Captain Blackbeard.

 Second Interlude: Queen Annes Revenge

    Edward ¡°Blackbeard¡± Teach walked about the Equinox¡¯s deck in slow, thoughtful steps, while all around him his men worked the pumps, bringing water up from the bilge to douse the flames. The man¡¯s face was a study, charcoal-blackened eyes raking over everything calmly. Ringed hands played with the single braid on the right side of his beard. A brace of pistols was strapped to his chest, and from his tricorne hat came four slow-burn fuses, both lit and hissing. John, Ellis, and all the Equinox¡¯s crew knelt before him, hands behind their heads. Captain Garner lay on the deck, bleeding, shot through the gut and not expected to live, according to the murmurings of the surgeon knelt beside him.


    Blackbeard paced in front of them all, occasionally bending over to examine a face or two, but he always walked on without saying a word. Then he walked over to look down on Captain Garner, snorted, and walked up the stairs to the quarterdeck to examine the wheel. He spoke to a few of his own men, pirates all wearing red bandannas, apparently giving them orders to go belowdecks. Then Edward Teach moseyed on down the stairs, swaggered over to the railing, opened his breeches, and pissed over the railing, into the sea. When he was done he fastened his breeches and walked over to one of the boys that had been recruited along with John. Teach stared down at him. The boy was whimpering.


    Teach walked on.


    When Teach¡¯s eyes fell on John, he at last said, ¡°You lad. Press-gangs bring you here?¡±


    John was quivering. Might¡¯ve even pissed himself a little. He¡¯d heard the men mutter Blackbeard¡¯s name, heard them recognize him by the slow-burn fuses coming from his hat. The name was becoming notorious back home, he knew the man to be a raper and murderer. He couldn¡¯t find the words to speak. Dear God, I killed a constable only because he was going to kill me, and this is the fate You have given me? To be keel-hauled by the likes of¡ª


    ¡°Well?¡±


    John looked up. Licked his sun-dried lips. ¡°S-sir?¡±


    ¡°Was it the press-gangs that brought you all the way out here? To this sea? To me?¡±


    ¡°Y-y-yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Him too?¡± Blackbeard pointed to Ellis. ¡°And them?¡± He pointed to all the others, most of them much younger than John or Ellis. The cabin boys and the ones always working the bilge and the ones that did all the deck-swabbing.


    John barely knew most of their names. He hadn¡¯t made many friends since leaving home. ¡°M-most of them sir, yes.¡±


    Captain Teach nodded, then drew a pistol like he meant to use it and John shut his eyes. In that moment he condemned God. It happened in a red-hot flash, he suddenly despised the Creator for all that He was. And he denounced the Devil, too. He denounced them all¡ª


    He felt a light tap on his head. Something metal. John jumped. When he opened his eyes, Teach was holding the pistol by its barrel, offering him the handle. ¡°Stand up, take this pistol, and shoot someone.¡±


    John gaped. ¡°Wh-what?¡±


    ¡°Anyone. Could be the fucking Royal Marine major over there, or the captain, or perhaps anyone that diddled you when you thought you were safe in your hammock. Don¡¯t tell me they haven¡¯t tried, little nipper. Stand up, take this pistol, and shoot someone. Long as it¡¯s not me,¡± he chuckled, and his men standing behind him exploded in gales of laughter. ¡°Go on, take it.¡± John reached up and touched the handle, but didn¡¯t quite grip it.


    Behind him, Ellis whispered, ¡°Do it, Johnny.¡±


    ¡°You there,¡± Teach said, drawing another of his pistols. ¡°You sound like a lad knows what way the wind¡¯s a-blowin¡¯. Take this pistol here. You get one shot. This I allow just this once, so use it wise¡ª¡±


    John jolted when he heard the bang. He had been looking up at Captain Teach when Ellis grabbed the proffered pistol and fired into the chest of one of the men who had accused him of siphoning rum. John stood to his feet because some stupid thought told him to run. Run where? He looked around at all the shocked and fearful faces of the Equinox¡¯s crew. His crew. And Ellis started beating another man in the head with the pistol until one of Blackbeard¡¯s people peeled him away.


    ¡°Good God,¡± Blackbeard guffawed. ¡°Usually takes the lads longer than that? But I commend your honesty of violence, boy.¡± Blackbeard looked back at John. ¡°Well, lad?¡± he said. ¡°What about you?¡±


    John was suddenly aware he still held the pistol.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do it. But you have to make a decision. Kill the bastard your heart desires most to kill, or else spare them.¡±


    It was not the sea that made John sick this time, but it felt just the same. No, worse. He started shaking his head in defiance of something. He didn¡¯t know what. But Teach seemed to think he was making his decision not to kill, and so he plucked the pistol from John¡¯s hand and walked over to the dying Captain Garner and shot him in the head. ¡°Best out of his misery. No!¡± he shouted to Mr. Felt. The Equinox¡¯s first mate had just started to make the sign of the cross. ¡°No signs to God here, my friend. God does not live here. This is Blackbeard¡¯s boat now, and these are his seas. Or hasn¡¯t anyone told you?¡±


    Again, his crew all laughed.


    ¡°Yo-ho, maties. Some of you are my prisoners now, and will be sold as such when we come to Antigua. The Spaniards have been known to pay handsomely for English farmhands. Yo-ho!¡±


    ¡°Yo-ho!¡± the pirates around him shouted.


    Blackbeard holstered his pistol, then clasped his hands behind his back and addressed them as if he was a navy admiral to his crew. ¡°Those who do not wish to live in bondage, I will not make you. You can jump into the water now, but I will only allow you to make peace with your Maker once you¡¯re in the briny deep. God does not live where I go. Am I understood?¡±


    There were a few weak nods.


    ¡°Am I understood?!¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir!¡± they said.


    ¡°Very good. Those of you who do choose to become slaves¡­it¡¯s not so bad,¡± he laughed. ¡°Antigua already has many fetching women slaves. I¡¯m sure you can all find lives there, perhaps even children. So then, half of you line yourselves along that plank there that Mr. Joseph has been so kind as to supply, and walk onto the Revenge. The rest of you shall stay here, as this ship will be taken to Panam¨¢. Some of you will be clapped in irons, put in the bilge, and work the pumps. Half of my crew will also stay aboard the Equinox and guide her to Panam¨¢.¡±


    Blackbeard lifted a finger as if to make a salient point.


    ¡°Remember this mercy. Remember to talk about it wherever you go. You¡¯re only dead if you mutiny. And if you do try to mutiny, I will keel-haul you and the two men in irons beside you. Think of that when you¡¯re working the pumps. Lively now!¡± he thundered, and everyone leapt to their feet. ¡°Except you two,¡± Teach pointed to John and Ellis. ¡°Remain here on deck. My friend Mr. Braithwaite will have some instructions for you.¡±


    With that, Blackbeard whirled away like a storm, and John and Ellis stood there on deck. John was shaking. But Ellis¡­Ellis was grinning.


    ____


    John was taken by a spectacled man belowdecks and shown to the cook, a black man called Cutter who spoke perfect English. He was shown how to store the salted pork, the canned food, and the utensils. He was shown how to clean the kitchen area and how to prepare the plates so that Cutter could quickly lay out Captain Teach¡¯s meals each day. Finally, he was shown how to deliver them, and to stand by the table during meals like a naval ship¡¯s steward would do, waiting with pitcher in hand to refill anyone¡¯s cup that asked.


    Braithwaite tended to the young boys day and night, and John got the feeling that the man had been assigned to them as some sort of punishment. Braithwaite was an intellectual, the sole survivor of an exploratory vessel that foundered off the coast of someplace called Connecticut, which John thought was one of the Colonies. To hear others tell it, Braithwaite was an inventor of some repute, but when he was rescued by the Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge from the island where he¡¯d been marooned, he became part of the crew. But apparently he¡¯d gotten a little drunk one night and insulted Blackbeard, and so now he managed the children of the crew as penance.


    During the day, Braithwaite took John, Ellis, and the other boys on deck and showed them all that he¡¯d learned about running a pirate ship. The boys already knew a great deal about sailing, but things were done differently aboard a pirate ship. For one, there was no one true ¡°captain¡± per se, not until battle, where a single man led the fight. The crews all voted on where to go next, what targets to seize, what jobs to take, what partners to take on. Teams were assigned during ¡°claims,¡± when the crew would line the boys up each day and select different boys for different tasks. The Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge was huge, it towered above the sea, and so required constant cleaning and work to maintain her.


    John was surprised that pirates worked with less sleep than English sailors, because, as Captain Teach put it, ¡°Sleep is a weapon. If you want to stay ahead o¡¯ the English and the bloody Spaniards, you have to be alert, not just awake. Constantly. Men on the account, we take naps, an hour, maybe two hours, in constant rotations throughout the day. We keep her moving,¡± he said, tapping the ship¡¯s railing. ¡°So anyone chasing us must lose sleep to find us.¡±


    John and Ellis were mystified.


    ¡°It is a discipline of the pirates,¡± Braithwaite explained later, as he led them to the prow. ¡°They sleep only when they are having to wait on something¡ªpirates are allowed to sleep, therefore, even while on deck, as long as their work is done. Captain Teach wants his enemies tired and haggard, so they¡¯ll be so desperate they¡¯ll take shortcuts and make mistakes. And by keeping himself and his people well rested around the clock, he himself is not prone to those same mistakes.¡±


    John and Ellis listened while stepping over three men who had fallen asleep in the shade of the mizzenmast.


    But the order of the day was mostly the same as on the Equinox. ¡°First watch rises early, usually at eight bells, and swabs the deck while second watch is being served small meals and drinks on deck and finishing up their duties,¡± Braithwaite explained, guiding down the four large decks of the ship. ¡°This way, there is overlap between the watches, and any damage discovered to any part of the ship is passed on to the next watch.¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The pirates kept checklists, took assiduous notes, and checked their food stores every hour. Either because they didn¡¯t trust one another or because, being pirates, they could not moor in most harbours, and had to stay on top of every scrap of food and water. John thought it was both.


    But the strangest thing was, sometimes they allowed anyone to steer. Not during battle, and never during a storm, but during calm days and easy weather they were allowed to steer, to feel how the ship responded to the slightest turn of the wheel. There was an enormous amount of cross-training of skills¡ªeven the cook knew how to steer a little, and the helmsman could at least make stew for dozens of crewmen if need be.


    One night, while lying awake in their hammocks, exhausted from a day of swabbing and cooking and stowing, John and Ellis sang a song of home. Someone shouted, ¡°Pipe down! We don¡¯t dream of England here, boys! The Revenge is your country now, and Blackbeard be your king!¡±


    Everyone in the forecastle laughed.


    Despite this, Ellis whispered over to John, ¡°I think we might be all right. Captain¡¯s letting us steer! Have you ever heard of such a thing! Boys our age steering a bloody ship?¡± He giggled. ¡°I think we¡¯re going to be all right, Johnny.¡±


    In those days, John was in a haze of life-altering events. Sometimes he forgot the smell of his mother¡¯s cooking, or the sound of his sister¡¯s singing, or the birds in the forest behind their house. And also the rage. The shouting. The strike across his face, first from his mother, then his father. Look how you¡¯ve upset your mother! Look how disgusted she is by you! And there was the sadness on his sister¡¯s face, and the pity on his brother¡¯s face. John had never been so ashamed to be alive, to draw breath.


    Yet still, he missed it. The smell of honeysuckle in the spring, the grass beneath his bare feet, and solid ground that did not constantly rock back and forth, side to side, while men grunted and farted and shat in buckets.


    ¡°But what about home, Ellis? We were only supposed to serve a few more months on the Equinox. We could¡¯ve returned home and nobody would¡¯ve ever known¡­what happened. How the bloody hell do we get home now?¡±


    ¡°What home, Johnny boy? You heard the man. The Revenge is our home now.¡±


    ____


    ¡°I say, boy, why did you not kill them?¡± asked Captain Teach one night at table. He belched and used a napkin to wipe soup from his beard, but he never took his eyes off of John, who stood in the corner with a pitcher of wine, ready to pour. ¡°I could tell by the look in your eye there was someone worth killing on Equinox¡¯s crew, and the eagerness of your friend must¡¯ve felt infectious.¡±


    It was the first time Blackbeard had spoken directly to him since that day, and just as then, John did not know how to respond. ¡°He¡­that is, they, um¡­¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to explain it to me, boy.¡±


    John felt naked before the many solemn gazes in the room. ¡°How did you know?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m old, boy. Credit me with enough wit to know wrath when I see it. I was once young, and therefore know the depravity of so-called God-fearing men, who somehow feel God¡¯s vision becomes blurred and imprecise once they¡¯re far away from home, far away from women and friends and family. They left God back in England but still like to invoke His name from time to time to induce men to do what they want.¡±


    ¡°Yo-ho,¡± said one of the other pirates at table, and sipped his rum.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t mind men having religion on my ship, long as they don¡¯t speak it or try to spread it. Worse than scurvy, it is. Worse than fucking plague. But come, tell me, why would you not kill them? I¡¯m sure whoever has drawn your ire would not flinch to silence you forever, if only to keep you from announcing their crimes to the world.¡±


    John swallowed. Shrugged. ¡°I¡­already killed once, sir. By accident, I promise. It¡¯s why I¡¯m here.¡± The words were out of his lips before he could stop them. ¡°I didn¡¯t like the feeling. Even though it was an accident I still don¡¯t like knowing that¡­that I, um¡­¡±


    ¡°Speak up, boy!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like thinking of myself as a murderer, Captain!¡± he shouted.


    Everyone else in the room laughed. Mr. Druce, the second mate; Mr. Cutter, the carpenter¡¯s mate standing by the door with a fresh plate of pudding; Mr. Felt; and the quartermaster Sully; all of them laughed. But Blackbeard never did, and when they noticed, they all stopped laughing. Blackbeard said, ¡°What is your full name, lad?¡±


    ¡°Connor.¡±


    ¡°Your real name. Don¡¯t lie to me. I smell lies like sharks smell blood in water, and it puts me into an equal feeding frenzy.¡±


    He felt cornered, so he just said it. ¡°John. John Alfred Laurier, sir.¡±


    ¡°John Laurier.¡± Blackbeard reached out with his fork and stabbed a slice of brined beef and shoved it in his mouth, and spoke around it. ¡°John Laurier, would you call me a murderer if I told you I once killed a dog that went rabid, and bit my hand when all I did was try to feed it?¡±


    John shook his head.


    ¡°No? Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡­the dog, sir¡­it bit you first. It was diseased. It was dangerous to you.¡±


    ¡°Mm. And what if the dog had bitten me, but I came away mostly unscathed, and later I saw that same dog, still foaming at the mouth, and knew that someday, somewhere, it would bite someone else? What if I shot that dog dead? Am I a murderer now, even though the attack on my person is in the past, and the dog isn¡¯t currently doing anyone any harm?¡±


    John squirmed. ¡°Well¡­no, sir.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because, sir, you were only protecting others from the dog¡¯s attacks that might later.¡±


    ¡°Name him.¡±


    ¡°Name who, sir?¡±


    ¡°Name the man you most want dead in the world.¡±


    John tried to recall one of the men¡¯s names that pulled off his breeches. ¡°Lance, sir. Don¡¯t remember his last name.¡±


    Captain Teach nodded ruminatively. Then he stood up and walked to the other side of the ward-room and removed one of the pistols from his brace. John knew what he was going to do, and dreaded it. Teach took the pitcher of wine out of John¡¯s hands, and gave him the pistol. ¡°It¡¯s ready to fire. Just pull back the hammer here, see? Then point and fire. You have my permission to kill Lance. The time and place are yours to choose. When you¡¯re ready.¡± Teach clapped his hands and rubbed them together. ¡°Now, Mr. Cutter, is that your famous pudding I see on your platter there? Because if it is, I¡¯m going to insist Mr. Felt and Mr. Anderson wrestle for their portions again.¡±


    The room erupted in gales of laughter again.


    ¡°I¡¯ll place a wager on fat fuckin¡¯ Felt!¡± laughed some Dutchman.


    ¡°Aye! And I¡¯ll get the oil, grease these two fuckers up real nice!¡± roared a one-eyed Irishman.


    ¡°Like two wet pigs! That¡¯s what they looked like last time!¡± Blackbeard wheezed.


    The room was consumed by laughter.


    John looked at the pistol in his hand.


    ____


    Braithwaite¡¯s hobby was sketching. Often around meals, men would gather at his table and watch his pen move across paper. It was like magic, watching the lines emerge from the tip of his pen to elegantly depict some contraption none of them could comprehend. John learned it had been Braithwaite who designed the special fire-barrel-slinging trebuchet that had burned half of Equinox¡¯s deck.


    One evening while the ship was becalmed, the crew mostly lounged around with not many chores to do. At these times, pirates slept, even while hanging up in the crosstrees and ratlines. But John and Ellis always sat near Braithwaite and watched the man work. They often begged him to draw something for them, such as a crewman¡¯s face or a dog flying into the air or a monster rising out of the deep.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not that kind of artist, gents,¡± he said. ¡°Drafting and architectural lines was what my mentor taught me. Boring stuff, I know.¡±


    ¡°Look now at this, nippers,¡± said a carpenter named Fitzroy, bringing his plate and grog over to the table to join them. ¡°Braithwaite and I have become fast friends. He thinks stuff up, an¡¯ I build ¡¯em.¡±


    ¡°Not everything,¡± Braithwaite said, not looking up from his drawing.


    ¡°Well, no, not what you¡¯re workin¡¯ on now. I work with wood, not metals.¡±


    John leaned in to look at Braithwaite¡¯s most recent work. It was a curvy thing, which started out narrow at the top, and widened at the bottom. ¡°Looks like the bell we ring to tell the time,¡± he said.


    ¡°It¡¯s a revision of a design by a man named Bendall,¡± Braithwaite said, adjusting his spectacles and smiling. The man was ravenous for knowledge, everybody knew, but also loved to lecture to any willing ear. ¡°He devised a sort of large container, big enough for one man, which you drop into the sea and trap air in the top half. He used barrels in his design, I¡¯m thinking something a deal more sturdy, one that doesn¡¯t leak. I thought of a bronze bell. You see, you attach it to a crane¡ªlike the one we used to assemble the trebuchet¡ªand lower it down into the water by chain. Heavy weights take the diving bell to the bottom of the ocean, and the divers breathe the air trapped inside.¡± He drew four precise circles on the outside of the bell. ¡°Small windows here would let them see out into the ocean floor. Isn¡¯t that exciting? They could also hold their breaths and take short swims around the seafloor.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t they eventually run out of air?¡± asked Ellis.


    ¡°Eventually, yes. But I¡¯m thinking a rope here should run all the way up to the deck, and when the divers pull on it, it¡¯ll ring a bell on the deck, letting the crew know to reel them back in.¡±


    Fitzroy scoffed. ¡°But what bloody good is it? So you can see what¡¯s on the seabed. Big deal, mate.¡±


    Braithwaite removed his spectacles and cleaned them with his shirt. ¡°Not very astute, Mr. Fitzroy. The purpose is not just to look around, it¡¯s to find things. Sunken ships, perhaps. Like the Santa Rosal¨ªa or the Santa Eva Maria.¡±


    At this, Fitzroy stopped eating. Leaned in. ¡°Treasure?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°What treasure?¡± John asked.


    Braithwaite put his glasses back on. ¡°You tell him, Mr. Fitzroy, I¡¯m tired of telling the story.¡± He returned to his drawing.


    Fitzroy spoke around a mouthful of biscuit. ¡°He¡¯s talking about the Spanish Silver Train, lads. Two years ago, the Spaniards had themselves a bad bit o¡¯ luck. Bad bit o¡¯ luck, indeed. Seven ships set sail from Panam¨¢, fat with gold and silver, and they did it during the right season, shouldn¡¯t have been any storm that time o¡¯ year. But there was. Storm like you ne¡¯er saw. Waves as big as the sky, they say! The ships couldn¡¯t handle it. Five of ¡¯em foundered and sank, a sixth one took enough damage that it had to take harbour somewheres, and the British found it and took it. The seventh one limped home.


    ¡°But them five massive ships, boys, the ones that sank, they be sittin¡¯ fat still, way down in Davy Jones¡¯s locker.¡± Fitzroy pointed a single finger down at the table. ¡°Way, way down. Savvy? It¡¯s all just a-sittin¡¯ down there. Too bad nobody knows where that was.¡±


    ¡°Not true,¡± Braithwaite mumbled.


    ¡°Oh, here we go again¡ª¡±


    ¡°What?¡± John said, fascinated. No conversation back home had ever been as invigorating as this.


    Fitzroy sighed wearily. ¡°Ol¡¯ Braithwaite here claims to know a man was on the San Luis, the ship that got taken by the English. The man lives in some small port town¡ªeh, what¡¯s it called, Braithwaite?¡±


    ¡°Nassau.¡±


    ¡°Nassau, that¡¯s it. Claims this man was an intellectual, like our Braithwaite here, and they got to talkin¡¯, back when the ship Braithwaite used to be on passed through there. This man¡ª¡±


    ¡°Pedro Salazar,¡± Braithwaite supplied.


    ¡°Right. So Pedro, he confides in our man here that there was a specific island the Silver Train passed just before it sank. Pedro said he recalled the shape o¡¯ that island, and saw at least two o¡¯ the ships¡ªthe Santa Rosal¨ªa or the Santa Eva Maria¡ªgo down. The other three ships were probably with them, he said. Said he wanted to return there. But poor ol¡¯ Pedro was sick with plague¡ª¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t plague. If you¡¯re going to tell the story, Mr. Fitzroy, tell it right. He died of dysentery.¡±


    ¡°¡ªdysentery, then. And before he died, he claimed he¡¯d never confided in anybody else the shape o¡¯ that island.¡± Fitzroy smiled wryly at Braithwaite. ¡°So, our friend here is the only one knows what island that might be, and where the Silver Train went down.¡±


    John winced. ¡°What about the seventh ship?¡± he whispered.


    ¡°Eh?¡±


    ¡°You said a seventh ship made it back to Spain. Couldn¡¯t they have told someone where the ships went down?¡±


    Braithwaite looked up with a smile of surprise. ¡°You are very keen, Mr. Laurier. Yes, indeed, the Spaniards likely know whereabouts the rest of the ships went down. But access is the problem.¡±


    ¡°Access?¡±


    ¡°Yes. For one, how could they get enough ships this far into contested waters without the British or French noticing? And second, by what means could they dive to the bottom of the ocean to retrieve it all? Untold tons of treasure, John. How could they swim down, and breathe long enough to bring it all back to the surface?¡±


    John smiled and said, ¡°A diving bell would be a good start, sir.¡±


    Braithwaite went back to drawing. ¡°Very astute, Mr. Laurier.¡±

 Third Interlude: Blackbeards Final Lesson

    Three months aboard the Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge, John was allowed to start doing dog-watches on his own. He stood on the quarterdeck blowing into his hands. It got a little chilly on foggy nights like this, after many rains had come and gone. They had raided one small town on an island barely big enough to even have one, but John and Ellis had remained aboard, watching from afar as Blackbeard and his men burned and pillaged, then rowed back aboard two days later with food, water, clothes, and other cargo, and set sail. John had had the pistol Blackbeard gave him still hidden under his shirt, watching Lance as he leaned on the portside rail. John had considered killing him then.


    Now, a week after the raid, he blew into his hands and regretted his decision not to kill the piece of shit.


    ¡°Did you think what we did was wrong?¡±


    John started. Blackbeard had appeared in the night, a wraith stepped from the fog. Somehow his heavy boots made almost no sound.


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    Blackbeard had not spoken to him since the night he had given John the pistol. Now the captain leaned on the railing and looked around. Except for Mr. Goderick on the wheel, they were alone up here. ¡°The raid,¡± he said. His breath came out in tiny white tufts. ¡°Have you thought about it?¡±


    John shrugged. ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°Lying. I told you I can sniff it out.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°I¡ªthat is, it¡¯s not my place.¡±


    ¡°How old are you?¡±


    ¡°Eighteen soon, sir.¡±


    Blackbeard pushed himself away from the railing and paced around the quarterdeck. He produced a flask and drank from it. For a long while, they stood in silence. John watched the water. Then the captain said, ¡°You think it was wrong.¡±


    John shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s illegal. It¡¯s against the law. So¡­yes.¡±


    Captain Teach paced closer to him. ¡°The law. Who makes it, Laurier?¡±


    ¡°The government, sir. Kings, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Aye, the government. And what is government but theft by consent?¡± He handed the flask to John, who drank reluctantly and gasped and coughed at what was inside. Blackbeard took it back. ¡°They made the law because you and I weren¡¯t around to stop them. Because we weren¡¯t yet born when they set the whole World in stone. Then they tell you how to live, who you are, what you have to love, the songs you sing for the sake of the king or the queen or some dead lord¡¯s victory that happened five hundred years ago.¡±


    Teach sighed. And sipped from his flask.


    John shifted his weight. And blew in his hands.


    ¡°This World is old, Laurier. They made their rules long before we came along, and when we were born they told us how things are, how things will be, and we said, ¡®Yes, Mother¡¯ and ¡®Yes, Father¡¯ and ¡®Yes, my lord,¡¯ and never gave it a moment¡¯s thought.¡± He shook his head ruefully.


    ¡°Captain?¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Are we¡­are we ever going to be allowed to go home?¡±


    Teach tilted his head quizzically. ¡°What¡¯s there, Laurier?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°I hope to return and have my freedom. We only ran because we were¡ª¡±


    ¡°Freedom? My God, Laurier, do you not realize you are now freer than any man back in England? Free to go where you want, chase after who and what you want, kill any man that wrongs you, and befriend anyone who loves you, no matter where they come from. Do you not see that?¡±


    John nodded. ¡°As you say, sir.¡±


    ¡°No, not ¡®as you say, sir.¡¯ You¡¯re a man now. Despite me and everyone else calling you boy, you¡¯re a man. And it¡¯s time you realized that there hasn¡¯t ever been a government built by men like you and me. Well,¡± he added, ¡°not yet, at any rate. But that¡¯s about to change. Something is coming, Laurier. A change in the winds.¡± He gave a judicious nod to himself. ¡°And only I know about it. But it¡¯ll come. The moon and stars shall all change and the rest of the World will be in upheaval, when demons rise from the sea, and many more moons than just our one will appear in the sky. I have seen it. In my dreams. After that, there will only be Libertalia.¡±


    This all sounded rather outlandish, but John could not help himself. ¡°Libertalia, sir? What is that?¡±


    After a moment, the captain whispered, almost too low to be heard, ¡°Freedom. As no man has ever known.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    Blackbeard took another long swig, smacked his lips, and made a howl like a wolf while beating his chest. He cleared his throat, and said, ¡°Have you ever done any acting?¡±


    ¡°Acting, sir?¡±


    ¡°Performance. Line reading. Stage plays. Any of that in your background?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, sir. A bit of theater. One of my uncles used to put on plays. He taught me to project my voice, to enunciate so people at the back of the crowd could hear me.¡±


    ¡°Thought so, with your accent.¡±


    ¡°My accent?¡±


    ¡°What part of London are you from?¡±


    ¡°St. Giles, sir.¡±


    ¡°St. Giles. Rough patch of land. Been through there once, just before Queen Anne¡¯s War. Your accent sometimes slips and I hear such articulation.¡±


    ¡°You fought in that war, sir?¡±


    Blackbeard made no comment on that. ¡°The lads like to put on plays. I¡¯m sure you know, us sailors tend to get bored out here with no entertainment. But there are rarely any ladies, and so some of the slimmer lads have to take on the roles. Have you ever worn a dress?¡±


    John tensed, and shook his head. ¡°No, sir. Think I might look a bit silly in one, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Not at all. It¡¯s bracing. And very freeing on the balls. I¡¯ll have Mr. Belcher find one that fits you tomorrow morning. And don¡¯t tell anyone, not even your friend Ellis. Let it be a surprise to everyone.¡±


    ____


    The dress was simple, merely a wool thing with red and yellow flower designs, and with loose sleeves and hem that were too short for his tall frame. But it was the gloves that he found most intriguing. The feel of them. Not at all like men¡¯s riding gloves. Softer and rolling on like a sock up to the elbow. The low-heeled shoes pinched his toes but he liked the slightly elevated feel. Belcher, a carpenter¡¯s mate, allowed him to see himself in front of a mirror. The makeup was caked on, his lips so red they almost looked bloody.


    And yet he did enjoy it. He¡¯d lied to Blackbeard, of course, he¡¯d worn dresses before, but mostly as a joke when with a lover, or when he and Ellis were trying to lure in a mark. He agreed his balls were freer than in pants, and before wearing a dress he¡¯d never thought he needed that. And the bodice was a surprise. The tactile feel of the lace against his bare back, where his shirt had gotten ruffled while trying to squeeze in, gave him a thrill. John had always been sensitive to touch, though he tried to suppress it. Certain touches, at least. The feel of a lover¡¯s lips, the feel of Thomas¡¯s beard on the back of his hand¡ª


    Thomas.


    He had not thought of his friend since they had been caught by John¡¯s father. Another bit of suppression that kept him going.


    He wanted to show Ellis but the play was about to start and his reveal was to be a surprise at some pivotal moment that Mr. Belcher had scripted. He was supposed to step outside when he heard one of the actors yell, ¡°There be a fair maiden aboard this ship, and I will save her yet!¡±


    Then John was to come out and say his one line. And somehow he wasn¡¯t nervous. He had suddenly discovered a species of confidence he had not felt even when performing in his uncle¡¯s plays. I¡¯m beautiful. He was smiling at himself in the mirror, partly because it seemed like a joke, something he and Ellis would laugh about forever, and partly because he felt transformed. He wondered if this was what a butterfly felt like after leaving its cocoon.


    Outside, there was a ruckus. Men laughed as music was played and he heard swords clanging. Then he heard it: ¡°There be a fair maiden aboard this ship, and I will save her yet!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your line, Johnny! Go, go, go!¡± Belcher shoved him out.


    When he stepped out of the curtained doorway of the companionway, John received laughter and applause from everyone. He walked up the steps, onto the plank laid across the barrels, to serve as a stage. He looked for Ellis in the crowd, momentarily afraid he wasn¡¯t there. When he found his friend standing at the back, hands in his pockets, he almost waved to let Ellis know it was him, but decided that he¡¯d know soon enough.


    ¡°The fair maiden be here!¡± he called. And then rested his cheek on his hands and fluttered his eyes at his savior. ¡°And she is well in distress!¡±


    Mr. Cawley served as the hero of the story, done up in big clothes stuffed with pillows to make him look muscular. Four other pirates lay on the deck, having been slain in the first act. The audience sat on the rails or up in the ratlines, and they cheered Cawley¡¯s name as he swaggered across the deck, aiming to rescue the ¡°fair maiden¡± when suddenly Blackbeard appeared in nothing but his nickers, much to the joy of his men, who threw coins and cups at him and jeered. Blackbeard played a parody of himself, waving two swords like a maniac with a brace of pistols hanging ridiculously around his waist, like he didn¡¯t know how to put it on.


    The sword-fighting went on for several moments, each man clanging blades and leaping out of the way. Blackbeard received a swipe across his arm, and it brought blood. The men cheered louder.


    While this went on, Mr. Moore and Mr. Gently played their fiddles, and here John was meant to dance and toss his skirts around while the two brave men fought for him. Someone put a mug in his hand, and John drank the grog and the men all cheered, and then someone handed him another. It was all so ludicrous, a farce of a farce, Blackbeard and Mr. Cawley kept fighting and slicing at each other and occasionally falling down in a bumbling way, and some of the ¡°dead¡± pirates rose up and joined in. The story no longer made any sense but nobody cared.


    And John was laughing. Until he spotted Ellis near the prow, watching it all with a look of disappointment, even reproach. When their eyes met, Ellis put his hands in his pockets and turned away in what John could only describe as disgust.


    John started to go after him. But someone grabbed his arm. ¡°Here, let¡¯s have a kiss, luv!¡± someone said. John pushed the lout away. And then the same someone grabbed his arse. ¡°C¡¯mon, then! Dress like a whore, might as well be a whore!¡±


    John would never recall the exact sequence of events. One moment he¡¯d rounded on the man, saw that it was Lance, and shoved him away. The next moment Captain Teach¡¯s words were in his head¡ª


    ¡ªthe time and place are yours to choose. When you¡¯re ready¡ª


    ¡ªand John felt seething rage at the indignity of that night, when his pants were pulled off and there wasn¡¯t anything he could do about it and he would¡¯ve been raped if it hadn¡¯t been for luck and now the man was staring right at him and was grinning and groping him¡ª


    ¡ªit¡¯s ready to fire, just pull back the hammer¡ª


    ¡ªthen there was a loud bang and smoke swirled in front of him and they were all looking down at Lance, no longer smiling, clutching his stomach.


    The fiddlers stopped playing. Someone shouted. Blackbeard, sweating and panting, dropped his swords and pushed past Mr. Cawley, who was looking around for the source of the shot. John was numb, thinking he was only dreaming, standing over the dying man with the pistol in his hand, the same pistol he¡¯d been carrying since Blackbeard gave it to him and he hadn¡¯t even realized he¡¯d gotten so used to carrying it that he¡¯d tucked it underneath the dress.


    ¡°Peace! Order!¡± Blackbeard cried, when two men started to advance on John with sabres drawn. ¡°Order! Order! This killing has been sanctioned! This man,¡± he gestured to Lance gasping on the deck, his wound sucking blood, ¡°has violated one of our most sacred rules! He tried to bugger and harm a fellow pirate! Worse, the filthy piece of scum thought he could do it on Blackbeard¡¯s ship!¡± Pointing at John, ¡°And this boy was given the same choice I gave some of you sorry bastards! I allowed him to pick the time and place of his vengeance!¡±


    The men all shifted uncertainly.


    ¡°Mr. Felt! What is the name of this ship!¡±


    ¡°The Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge, sir!¡± the first mate shouted.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. So listen here, you scallywags. No man gets vengeance on John Laurier, not for this, for he had my blessing. Many of you have had that same blessing. Some of you chose to get your revenge, some of you allowed your chance to slip away.¡± He wiped blood off his face, either his or Mr. Cawley¡¯s, and clapped John on the shoulder. ¡°It was a hell of a performance, nipper. Wasn¡¯t it a hell of a performance, Mr. Sully?¡±


    ¡°Few better, skipper,¡± said the quartermaster, smiling proudly.


    ¡°Aye. I would agree. Now, an extra ration of rum for you, Laurier. Off with you now. Take whatever time you need. Well done. Well done, indeed.¡±


    ____


    John wasn¡¯t quite crying, and he wasn¡¯t quite inconsolable, yet he did mourn alone. Mourn whom, he did not know. Certainly not Lance whatever-his-name-was. Was it himself he mourned, or the constable in St. Giles? Or was it just the fear that this was him now, and that somehow he had crossed an invisible sea that could never be crossed again?


    Return to London if you like, Johnny, but you¡¯ll never go home again. That voice sounded frightfully like his own.


    He looked around.


    Where was Ellis?


    John had been looking for his friend ever since he went below. Above him, the music returned and men went back to dancing and revelry. But down here in the forecastle, down here in the dark with only a lantern to light his small world, there was no one but him. And the cat, Alder, running around somewhere in the shadows chasing mice.


    ¡°Take off the dress.¡± The voice came from somewhere in that darkness and John recognized it.


    ¡°Ellis?¡±


    ¡°Take it off, you look ridiculous.¡± He emerged from the doorway leading to the galley, thumbs in his waistline.


    ¡°It was just for the play.¡±


    ¡°I said take it off!¡± Ellis hissed.


    John stood up. ¡°Why? What do you care? I used to dress like this all the time for your little scams!¡± John fumed. ¡°You left me up there. Alone. I had to defend myself against¡ª¡±


    ¡°You wear that dress and you put out signals like a poof and you wonder why men¡ª¡±


    ¡°Put out signals?¡±


    ¡°Take off the dress, Johnny! Put on proper clothes. You¡¯re forgetting who you are.¡± Ellis paced around the hammocks, then screamed up at the ceiling, up at the revelers abovedeck. ¡°All these fucking bastards and their fucking music! Learn to play something proper!¡±


    ¡°Ellis, what is it? What¡¯s happened?¡± He knew his friend all too well, and just as he had learned how to judge the ship¡¯s mien by touching the steering, he knew when Ellis was veering off course.


    ¡°I had a dream, John. I saw God.¡±


    John blinked. ¡°God?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I saw Him standing on top of a hill, surrounded by smoke and light. The hill was muddy, and there were hundreds of people around me, all trying to climb up, all slipping and falling back down to the bottom. But not me. And not you. That¡¯s right, you were there, too, Johnny. You and I climbed up together and found God there, in a golden robe. He said, ¡®Step away from the path you¡¯re on.¡¯ I heard it, such a crisp and clear voice. He wants us to veer off, Johnny. Your¡­perversions. He wants you to repent. And he wants us both to¡ªwhat the fuck? Why are you laughing?¡±


    John had not meant to, but his whole body still had the jitters. He actually thought he was crying at the moment, but it only came out sounding like mad laughter. Or perhaps he was laughing? After all, it was funny. ¡°Ellis, mate, you¡¯re angry with me for dressing up, but you¡¯re not mad at me for killing another man. You killed your own man the first time Blackbeard offered you the chance. But now, suddenly, you¡¯re what, a Protestant? A Lutheran? Which one?¡±


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    Ellis stood an inch from his face. ¡°Do not mock God.¡±


    ¡°You mean don¡¯t mock you.¡± John was suddenly serious, his voice icier than he¡¯d meant it.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°When we went after that woman and her purse, it was your plan. When we came aboard the Equinox, it was your plan¡ª¡±


    ¡°You told Agatha it was a good idea!¡±


    ¡°Yes, and then I changed my mind when we were in that dung-filled wagon and you made my decision for me! Then, when pirates take us prisoner, I tell you I want to go home and you say we are home, that the Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge is our home now! Now you¡¯ve found God and you¡¯re telling me I have to go with you again? On some sort of¡ª¡±


    ¡°What the bloody hell is this? You¡¯re getting an attitude with me? Need I remind you that I saved you from¡ª¡±


    ¡°Being buggered? Yes, I know. And I saved us both from being beaten to death for a stupid scheme of your devising.¡±


    In the lanternlight, Ellis¡¯s eyes twitched. The edges of his lips upturned into a sinister smile. ¡°You¡¯re making friends with these pirates now. Performing for them. You¡¯ve made a friend or two and now you like it.¡±


    ¡°As did you, in the beginning.¡±


    ¡°I thought you wanted to leave!¡±


    ¡°I thought you wanted to stay!¡±


    ¡°I said we were home, Johnny. I meant the sea is our home¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just like ol¡¯ Ellis Cockrell. Never admit you¡¯re wrong, never admit you made a mistake, keep changing your mind until you land on something that works, a story that lets you be right, and then claim that was your plan all along. Isn¡¯t that just¡ª¡±


    The fist crashed across his jaw, and John tasted blood and felt his neck crack. When he recovered, they stood there a moment amid the swinging hammocks and stared at one another. Finally, John cracked a smile. And Ellis chuckled and said, ¡°You took that well.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, I¡¯ve learned how to take a beating.¡±


    ¡°Sorry for calling you a poof.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Johnny, what are we doing here?¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s obvious, mate. We¡¯re finding a new place for ourselves.¡±


    Ellis paced. ¡°But there¡¯s nothing for us here. We have nothing out here.¡±


    ¡°We do have something.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    John fidgeted with his dress. ¡°Libertalia.¡±


    ¡°What the bloody hell is that?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªwell, I don¡¯t know, exactly. But the captain says it¡¯s something that could give us all the freedom we ever wanted.¡± John hesitated on telling the next part, but Captain Teach hadn¡¯t told him it was a secret. ¡°And he mentioned something about a change in the World. Something about a reshuffling of the stars and moon. Ellis¡ªhe made it sound like something terrible was going to happen, like the heavens were going to fall.¡±


    Ellis¡¯s eyes narrowed in concentration. ¡°You mean like the Book of Revelations?¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t say. But Ellis¡­I think you were right before. I think there is a place for us here. Perhaps a place for us in the lands beyond, in the New World, the Colonies, a place where we can be whoever we want to be.¡±


    His friend nodded to himself. But John saw that it was for his benefit only. Something had changed within Ellis, and had been changing ever since the day of the constable¡¯s death. John only now recognized the stages he¡¯d missed¡ªEllis¡¯s fear of leaving England, then his fear of staying, then his uncertainty at every turn. He was always lost, just like me. He never had a plan.


    And now he¡¯s changed tack again.


    Had it merely been a dream of God and some holy message? For the first time in ages, John could not read his friend¡¯s demeanor.


    ____


    A year at sea did nothing for their friendship. Neither did two years, nor three. Their beards thickened and their skins tanned and soon they were indistinguishable from men born at sea. They took up swords together when it was time for a raid¡ªCaptain Teach liked to hit the western isles in the spring, the eastern isles in the fall. John and Ellis sometimes spoke in passing, sometimes sang a shanty when Mr. Cobb called for it, but they never came too close to one another.


    John put on more of the plays. He wore stranger dresses, learned that sometimes swooning and faking a tumble got the men to laugh. He used his amateurish fencing skills to occasionally choreograph a fight, and Captain Teach made sure that John and Ellis and the other men trained for real from time to time. They always sparred with real swords, sharpened by Mr. Namold¡¯s spinning grindstone. Namold took John under his wing, showed him how to use the grindstone, because the surgeon, Mr. Sadler, said there was something wrong with his liver and he hadn¡¯t long to live. John took over Namold¡¯s duties as smithee and rarely did he and Ellis ever meet on the same task again.


    Ellis was given a lashing for trying to proselytize to the men about Jesus Christ at night in the forecastle. Blackbeard would not have religion on his ship, not openly, and the beating was severe.


    John said nothing. One evening Ellis passed him in the companionway when they were changing the watch, and he muttered, ¡°I protected you from pirates, but you wouldn¡¯t stand with me when the cat-o¡¯-nine laid open my flesh. Judas.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± John said.


    But Ellis ascended to the top deck and said nothing else on the matter.


    ____


    The crew careened on dozens of islands and sat in the sun and fucked any women they abducted or brought with them from port. John pretended to see and hear none of it. Best that way. He wore his dresses ashore, even after the plays were over and none were scheduled. Someone once called him ¡°Ladyman¡±, he would never remember who said it first, but it soon stuck.


    Then, while leaving St. Kitts Island, they were attacked by a British man o¡¯ war. It was the first time ever that anyone had attacked them. Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge had been taking and taking, never once fearful of anyone at sea.


    The battle was fought as a chase, over several hours, and ended in a draw when both ships had hammered each other enough that it was best to call it a day. The Revenge vanished into a fog that grew thicker as night fell, and Blackbeard disappeared into his cabin for hours before emerging to see the dead men tossed overboard. He allowed someone to sing a hymn just this once. They had lost a lot of cannoneers, so Blackbeard had Braithwaite teach John and the younger crewmen all about cannons.


    They careened on a small island to repair, then sailed to the small harbour town of Nassau, and there rested in a wharf while Blackbeard went ashore to start building new contacts, and looked for leads on any Spanish or British merchantmen in the area that they might target next.


    John hadn¡¯t been on land this long since leaving home. They stayed for months, and during that time he met someone, a young man his age named Matthew, who was a carpenter on a privateer vessel called the Lively. They fell for one another. They made love a dozen times, Matthew teaching him all the while how to take what he wanted, and how to show when he wanted more.


    Their love was a whirlwind that lasted a season and John thought he would die happy with Matthew. Then Matthew sailed away on the Lively, which was gone for months, and when she returned her first mate informed John that Matthew had gone overboard in a storm and drowned. Each night for a month, John got drunk in the local drinking hall and wept in his tent by the shore. For the first time ever, his face was unshaven, his beard grew long.


    Ellis, meanwhile, found friendship with a priest named Athens, and had gone into the jungles for all those months John was falling in love, and emerged with a Bible, a robe, and a gold cross hung from his neck. He meant to begin spreading the Faith, here in Nassau, along with Athens, who, as it happened, had the authority to accept some of Blackbeard¡¯s money in exchange for information on a group of slave traders shipwrecked somewhere on the island. Sitting ducks for the crew of the Revenge.


    Nassau was then deemed safe for pirates, and, slowly but surely, the village would become a city.


    It all happened so quickly. Or seemed to. One moment John Laurier and Ellis Cockrell were the sons of well-to-do businessmen in England, with bright futures ahead of them, and then, in the blink of an eye, the tides came in harshly and eroded the shores of their proper lives, carrying their joys and loves and dreams out to sea like so much flotsam and jetsam. And now they were pirates, yo-ho, and false priests, amen, and sailors and killers and thieves.


    And the Caribbean was their home.


    ____


    One night John lay on the roof of a building in Nassau, staring up at the stars. He meant to fall asleep up here, drinking and thinking about Matthew. Many people did this in Nassau, just fell asleep wherever they felt like. Rooftops, streets, on the cliffs, or down by the shore when they were finished fucking in orgies surrounded by bonfires. This night, someone climbed up here with him, and he drew his knife.


    ¡°Peace, brother,¡± Ellis said. He wore a brown robe with the hood pulled over his head. He sat down on the thatch roof next to John. ¡°We haven¡¯t talked in a while. Thought I should come over and say¡­well, goodbye.¡±


    John stood up, and looked down at his oldest friend. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I mean Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge sails tomorrow for Havana, if you can believe it. Lots of British ships headed that way, trying to push the Spanish out, and the rumours Father Athens is hearing claim Captain Teach means to pick the bones of the wounded. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll all do very well.¡±


    John felt like spitting. ¡°What are you talking about? You¡¯re coming, too. You have to come, Ellis.¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t, Johnny. I¡¯m staying. Braithwaite is staying, too. Captain Teach has finally had enough of him, for whatever reason. A few others are staying, too. The seas¡­they¡¯re becoming too dangerous. Even Blackbeard isn¡¯t as invincible as he once was.¡±


    John¡¯s mouth was agape. He tried to find the words.


    Ellis sighed and looked over the rooftops, passed the palm trees, to the sea. ¡°We cannot go back home, Johnny. You know that by now. Our real names have been spoken to too many people out here, they know us as pirates. Even if we returned to London today¡­a year, maybe five years from now, our reputations would catch up to us.¡± He snorted and laughed. ¡°S¡¯funny, innit? We came all the way out here to clear our names, and only ended up dirtying them even more.¡±


    ¡°We can go home,¡± John said.


    ¡°Will you listen to yourself? One moment you¡¯re terrified of leaving London, then you¡¯re terrified of pirates, then you¡¯re making friends with them, dancing with them, fucking one of them, and now you want to go back home again¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I want, Ellis! But I haven¡¯t had much of a choice, just like you! I just know I didn¡¯t want it all to be like this!¡±


    Ellis stood up and dusted off his robe. ¡°We were fucked, you and I. Wasn¡¯t our choice to leave our homes. That was our parents¡¯ decision, tossing us both out like that. Wasn¡¯t our choice to pickpocket and steal, we had to do that to survive. Wasn¡¯t our choice to leave London, that¡¯s just the way things shook out, because it was our best option. And it wasn¡¯t our bloody idea to join up with pirates, that was Blackbeard¡¯s doing.¡±


    ¡°Or God¡¯s,¡± John said.


    Ellis looked at him, his features limned by the moon hiding behind his head. ¡°My God, you hate Him too, don¡¯t you? Blackbeard¡¯s got you believing God is your enemy.¡±


    ¡°Not God,¡± John said, more defiant than he¡¯d ever felt in the face of a friend. ¡°But religion? Government? Every order of Man?¡± He shrugged. ¡°As you say, we chose none of this. They put us here. All of them.¡±


    ¡°And what now? You mean to make them all pay?¡± Ellis chuckled.


    John smiled and looked out to sea. ¡°What a famous thing that would be.¡±


    Ellis winced as if he had some stomach pain or injury. He looked offended. He started to say something. Stopped himself. He stood and touched John¡¯s shoulder and walked to the other end of the roof. When he started to climb down, he said, ¡°I¡¯ll always be here, Johnny. Here on New Providence. Father Athens and I are going to build something. Something wonderful.¡±


    ¡°Off the payment of men like Teach,¡± John said acidly. ¡°You¡¯re not leaving piracy behind. You¡¯re just graduating to a different side of the business.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, Johnny. I¡¯ll say prayers nightly for you. I swear. Every night.¡±


    ____


    The stranger arrived on a blisteringly hot day. He was a severe man of tall stature, a long face, a hand burdened by many rings, and a receding black hairline touched with grey. When he approached the table at the coffee-house where John was sitting alone, the stranger wore a yellow coat, almost like one of them Spaniards, and he cleared his coat tails from the chair as he took a seat, like some high lord. Not far away were two large African men, both armed with pistols, watching over the stranger. His guards.


    ¡°John Laurier?¡± the stranger said.


    ¡°Who wants him?¡±


    The stranger smiled briefly. ¡°So, you¡¯re the one they call the Ladyman.¡±


    John had been trying to drink away his lingering torpidity. He¡¯d had his fill of Kill Devil Rum the night before and never quite gone to sleep, sort of waking up every few minutes to lay down some of the coins from his share of the Revenge¡¯s take, ordering more rum, sometimes a beef stew or some conch. This whole bloody island was overrun with people selling and eating the oversized sea snail. Now that he was on land for a prolonged stay, he finally had use of his doubloons, and had developed a kind of sport of seeing how much rum and conch meat he could hold down before vomiting. He was up to three tries.


    ¡°You¡¯re him, then,¡± John mumbled. He was sure it came out slurred. ¡°You¡¯re the Devil?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Captain Arthur Vhingfrith, yes,¡± the man said.


    ¡°The Devil of Isla de Providencia.¡± John looked up and saw a blurry fellow looking back at him. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine you with horns,¡± he snickered.


    Captain Vhingfrith smiled back politely. ¡°I had them filed down.¡±


    John laughed, and coughed, and sipped his rum. Once he¡¯d let out the belch that had been building, he said, ¡°You really strand those men on that tiny little island with naught but sand and a single tree? A tiny little island¡¯s what I heard, within sight of a much more lush island juuuuust on the horizon. Just so¡¯s they could see it, but couldn¡¯t swim to it.¡±


    ¡°They were mutineers. Mutineers are dealt with severely. But it wasn¡¯t my decision alone. Unlike yourself, I¡¯m a privateer, we carry Royal Marines with us. In some matters on his ship, even the captain does not have a say.¡±


    ¡°Credit me with enough intelligence to know horseshit when I hear it, Captain Devil.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I credit you with ample, Mr. Laurier. I¡¯ve asked around. You come from very good stock. You¡¯re well educated, well versed in worldly matters, and a fast learner when it comes to sailing and fighting. So, I asked myself, ¡®Arthur, how does a man of good stock come to be a loathsome pirate way out here?¡¯ So I looked around, and was directed to a priestly friend of yours who told me a very interesting story. Of your connections back home. Of your family.¡±


    John looked up at him warily, looking for the trap.


    Vhingfrith held up his hands defensively. ¡°No, I¡¯m not here to arrest you, Mr. Laurier. In fact, I¡¯m here to do business. Many men on this island speak highly of you. They say you¡¯re a good man to have in a pinch, that you keep your word and never shirk duty, that you can handle a cannon as well as a bilge pump or a smithee¡¯s grindstone. That you¡¯re something of a prodigy in all matters seafaring.¡±


    John shrugged.


    ¡°I find myself in a precarious situation. The island governors are being quite slow with dispensing their letters of marque¡ªwithout which I am only a lowly pirate such as yourself and Captain Teach¡ªand so just now we privateers find ourselves in a sort of competition to be the next one to get our letters.¡±


    John shrugged.


    ¡°I could sail right now and chase down one or two leads¡ªthe San Miguel for one, the Santo Domingo de Guzman for another¡ªbut if I went after them, it would be unlawful. So, for the moment, I am unable to privateer, and therefore can only use my ship¡ªthat¡¯s her down there in the docks, the Lively, I¡¯m sure you know about her thanks to Matthew, who, incidentally, was the first to mention your name to me, just before he died¡ªI can only use the Lively for ferrying cargo back and forth across the Caribbean right now. It¡¯s good pay, but meagre when compared to privateering work.¡± He sighed wearily.


    John eyed him. ¡°How did Matthew die?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you heard, it was a storm¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, but how? He was smart. He would never have been near the railing if he knew the storm was that strong.¡±


    Captain Vhingfrith pursed his lips. ¡°I asked him to go aloft, up the mizzen. One of our masts had snapped and was in the water, still connected to the Lively by rope¡ªit was dragging in the sea, dragging us down. He went up to cut the rope on my command. A rogue wave hit us and we tipped hard to starboard and he fell into the sea.¡±


    John glared at him. ¡°You gave the order?¡±


    ¡°I did. Now may I continue with what I was saying?¡±


    John drank his rum.


    ¡°You see, Mr. Laurer, it is very easy to find a crew that wants to go privateering. The share of the prize money is enticing enough. But ferrying goods?¡± He made a face. ¡°I find it difficult to invigorate men to sail with me just now, they¡¯re all jumping aboard the ships who already have their letters of marque. Or,¡± he added, ¡°aboard pirate ships.¡±


    John shrugged. ¡°So why would you think I¡¯m any different?¡± he said, and took another swig.


    ¡°Because you present a new option. I¡¯ll be frank with you, Mr. Laurier, I sometimes see opportunity in even a short-legged horse. It¡¯s a gift. Where others see the horse cannot win any races, I see an animal only grateful to at least have a friendly hand feeding it, and who, with its shortened stature, can squeeze through tight paths in the jungle. The poor creature may yet have a purpose.¡±


    ¡°So, I¡¯m a short horse?¡±


    Vhingfrith laughed. ¡°Benedict Laurier is a name I know. Last I was in England, I heard his name mentioned, among many others, in reference to families suffering misfortunes. These were families being affected by the Royal African Company. Have you ever heard of them?¡±


    John shook his head.


    ¡°They¡¯re an English mercantile company, set up by the royal Stuart family and the City of London merchants to trade along the west coast of Africa. They are led by King James himself.¡±


    John winced. ¡°The king¡­owns a company?¡±


    ¡°Oh dear, your father seems to have missed a very important part of your education. Yes, indeed, the Royal African Company are owned and operated completely by the British Crown, they have shipped more slaves across the Atlantic than any other slave traders in history.¡± Vhingfrith gestured at John. ¡°Your father, and two of his business partners, a Mr. Franklin and a Mr. Loughlin, have pooled their money and purchased two sloops and two brigantines, and are loaning them to the Royal African Company.¡±


    ¡°So, the old man¡¯s a slaver now. Brilliant. Always knew¡ª¡± he hiccupped, ¡°¡ªhe had it in him.¡±


    ¡°I want you to sail with me, Mr. Laurier. In so doing, I can promise you a ride back across the Atlantic, aboard a completely legal ship and under the Union Jack. You would also have far better company, I surmise, than those you sailed with on the Revenge.¡±


    ¡°In exchange for what?¡±


    ¡°An introduction,¡± Vhingfrith said, leaning forward. ¡°And your word as a gentleman that you will do everything in your power to convince your father that mine is an enterprise worth joining, and that perhaps he and I can help one another.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a stupid old man,¡± John laughed. ¡°You think because he¡¯s gone into business with the Crown he¡¯s clever, but he isn¡¯t. It¡¯s Franklin and Loughlin that were always the brains. Mother always said so and she was bloody right.¡±


    ¡°That is exactly the sort of insight I require in my venture. I need to know who¡¯s who, and what¡¯s what, when it comes to the inner circles of British nobility.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s obstinate. And stupid.¡±


    ¡°Be that as it may, I still require the introduction.¡± Vhingfrith sighed and stood up. ¡°Think about it. My ship leaves in two days. If you¡¯re at the docks then, I can assure you, you will have far better quarters than you¡¯re used to. Think about it,¡± he said again, and dropped a small jingling pouch on the table. ¡°For your time. And, Mr. Laurier, if you¡¯re afraid of seeing your father again, or if you think he¡¯ll be ashamed of you, I wouldn¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve a son of my own, and I can tell you that all fathers¡ªall fathers¡ªwish to be with their sons. It just takes some of them reaching their deathbeds before they realize it. I would say you¡¯ve been gone long enough. So, if you convince him to take me in, I will do my best to convince him to take you in.¡±


    John looked at the coin pouch. Then up at Vhingfrith.


    ¡°Think about it,¡± the captain said once more. Then he turned and walked down to the wharf.


    ____


    That night, John lay in a bed in an insalubrious hotel with curtains drawn and wept in darkness. Rain had set in, thunder beat at his walls, and all he could think of Matthew and what they had shared, and Thomas and what they had sworn to one another, and Ellis and all they had meant to each other. He saw his brothers and his sisters there, on the black canvas of the ceiling, and remembered them all as children. He, the middle child, looking up to some of them, while also protecting the younger ones. His drunken vision also showed him his dog, Dolly, snoring in the shade of the portico. His mother was there, too, sobbing as his father threw him out of the house. Out of his home.


    John drank the last of his rum. He walked over to the mirror and looked at his face and despised everything about it.


    ¡°What are you?¡±


    He touched his face. The beard had to come off, he was sick of looking at it. Then he decided to bathe in the tub, and then, at some point, tried drowning himself. It seemed like something to do. But he convulsed at his first gulp of air and came up, vomiting and spasming and laughing.


    When he climbed out of the tub, he slipped on the floor and almost fell. He steadied himself on the bedside table, where Captain Vhingfrith¡¯s pouch sat. John picked it up, turned it upside-down, and poured the silver coins onto the floor. Outside, he heard men laughing in an alley, laughing in the rain. He sat on the bed and thought about Matthew, and his hand went between his legs and he touched himself. He began stroking, and when he was finished, he climbed back into the tub and washed himself again and then stared into the mirror at a different man.


    He dried off, clothed himself slowly in a new dress he¡¯d bought days before, watching himself in the mirror as he pulled on each new article. He painted his lips, brightened his cheeks with rosy-red rouge, then combed his hair back and stared at himself.


    ¡°Libertalia.¡±


    He walked over to the window, opened it, and leaned against the windowsill and stared out into the rain. From here, he could see over the treetops, and out to the black sea. Blue lightning flashed and showed him the angry waves.


    ¡°Who are you, John Laurier? Are you out there somewhere?¡±


    The thunder answered. It rolled over the whole world.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go find you. What do you say?¡±

 Chapter 39: The Messenger is Not Important

    seadog ¨C A veteran sailor or old pirate.


    THE LETTER FROM Woodes Rogers¡¯s uncle confirmed what the man had long thought inevitable: his wife Jessica was dead, likely by her own doing. There was an investigation by the constabulary but the long and short of it was that she had been found in their home in Bristol, with her wrists opened and the knife not far from her hand. Rogers knew of his wife¡¯s lifelong melancholy and often chastised her to show more cheer around the home, and she had said more than once that what little joy she got came from Elana. With their daughter gone it was no surprise Jessica chose this path.


    He sat before the fire, letter in hand, tapping his chin with forefinger and watching as his own thoughts vacillated between his family that had now been utterly wiped out, the imprisonment of his friend Vhingfrith, the terrifying ordeal with the boy named Swanson, and the greater problem of the World ending. He had read more on the matter, from books he gathered from an erudite away in Kingston, an anthropologist of some repute who came to the Caribbean to study its natives. The books he¡¯d lent Rogers on past worldwide cataclysms had not been very helpful, mostly they were collections of myths from various religions around the globe.


    Rogers thought again of Jessica, her hair done up on their wedding day, the calm words of the priest, Jessica¡¯s nervous demeanor but brave smile¡ª


    He heard Swanson¡¯s voice. Could practically smell the breath even now¡ª


    Then his mind flitted back to the one story that caught his interest from all the anthropologist¡¯s books. It was the story of a Scandinavian monk who recorded a tragic famine brought on by years of complete darkness. Somewhere in the 6<sup>th</sup> century this took place. Could it have been the same years as recorded by Procopius and Cassiodorus?


    The smell of Jessica¡¯s perfume came to him, roses and jasmine¡ª


    There came an image of Benjamin Vhingfrith, an old friend, locked up in the dungeon, all along and freezing on this Long Night¡ª


    He glanced at the letter, reading the last few lines from his uncle: No appearance of suffering. The blood was such that all agree she went to sleep Peacefully and her last breath came quick. You should know that in her last days, your Wife spoke fondly of you. She also spoke of strange Apparitions in the Long Night, and she was known to go on and on about the firmament, even sought counsel in s¨¦ances with benandanti. She surrendered her Faith, and ceased all prayer. Her Towne particularly was besieged with the Disease, its population ravaged. The Disease took all her Neighbours, all the important people to her. Bristol is a lonely place now. You do not know what it is like here, dear Nephew, pray you never come home. Godspeed to you. And God grant you Peace. They say the King himself may be ill. Stay in the Caribbean. Never come home.


    Rogers sighed and tossed the letter into the fire, to join the ashes of the letter concerning his dead daughter, along with all the letters he¡¯d received concerning the problems of failing crops, old fort defences that needed shoring up, and a drop in morale among the King¡¯s Militia. He supposed that was where all letters wound up, sooner or later, in the fire. And though one or two tears were spilled he felt they were about as useless and as transient as the words on paper.


    The story of the Scandinavian monk tore at his mind. Stories of famine, even cannibalism in the villages that had surrounded his monastery.


    Stay in the Caribbean. Never come home.


    He saw Benjamin Vhingfrith lying on a dungeon floor. Perhaps I was too harsh.


    Rogers saw Jessica as she was in the ballroom the first time they met¡ª


    The messenger is not important.


    Never come home.


    A knock at his door.


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    It was James. His servant nodded curtly upon entering and said, ¡°Sir, are you all right? You look ill.¡±


    ¡°Word from home.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And how is Mrs. Rogers?¡±


    Woodes sighed and looked into the flames. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s bad news, James. She¡¯s dead. Killed herself.¡± He held up a hand to stop James right there. ¡°No. No need to bother with it. I know that I have your condolences and I thank you. Now let¡¯s move on. Are they here yet?¡±


    ¡°Erm, yes sir, they are.¡± James looked a bit awkward about not having a chance to grieve with him.


    But why should we grieve? I haven¡¯t seen my wife or daughter in years, and she miscarried enough to make this all seem rather routine. I know the whores in Port Royal better than I ever knew Jessica or¡­ah, well, why even revisit all that? It¡¯s in the past. People are dying all over and the firmament may end us all. ¡°Let¡¯s go and meet them, James.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    Rogers checked his sangfroid expression in the mirror and headed downstairs. He often slept inside his office at Fort Carlisle and had his appointments waiting for him at the main entrance. It was a Long Night when he emerged out in the area filled with scribes at their tables. It was truly ten o¡¯clock in the morning, and they were writing letters for all the illiterate sailors to send back home.


    The brothers Trenton and Thornton Clement were waiting for him just outside, both gazing up at three harsh moons¡ªone full, one gibbous, one crescent. ¡°There they are, the old seadogs,¡± he said, shaking their hands. ¡°And how was the long voyage? Not too dangerous, I hope. Thornton, looks like you got some colour.¡±


    ¡°The African sun is harsh, Captain,¡± answered Trenton. ¡°We spent almost three weeks in that blistering heat. We would have killed for a Long Night then.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure, I¡¯m sure. Well, it appears you survived your time among the savages. Hope it wasn¡¯t too much trouble.¡±


    ¡°We lost two good men,¡± said Thornton. The younger brother looked grimly over at Rogers. ¡°Two men who had been with us for years.¡±


    ¡°Good heavens.¡±


    ¡°Men with families.¡±


    ¡°Was it a storm?¡±


    ¡°Natives,¡± said Trenton, taking back over. He waved Rogers down the lane that was lit by dozens of torches and lamps. Some folk had taken to calling it Fire Lane, and it was the man thoroughfare leading to and from the docks. As they walked, Trenton explained, ¡°We used the same tactics as last time, inviting the tribal chiefs onto our ship for dinner, convincing them we were pirates and that there was treasure to be had in the bilge, then pulling up anchor and sailing away before they knew what was happening. For the most part it worked, but there was one fearsome tribal elder who fought back against our crew. He led the attack and the African bastards slew two men and gravely injured six others before we detained them all below.¡±


    ¡°My dear friends, you are heroes for facing such trials and keeping it from turning into calamity. You are to be commended.¡±


    ¡°You are to be commended, Captain,¡± said Trenton. ¡°I understand you had quite the hunt out on the sea. Brought the Le¨®n Coronado finally to justice. But what¡¯s this scuttlebutt I hear? You and Captain Vhingfrith in some sort of argument? The Devil¡¯s Son locked away in a dungeon? And I hear he¡¯s accused of somehow being in communion with devils?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t concern yourselves with all that, my friends. We took the Coronado a prize and that is victory enough for the Admiralty. I should be much more interested in your adventures.¡± Rogers put on a brave smile and nodded to two officers coming up from the docks. Their names were Merrick and Dobson, and they had orders to follow him down to the docks. The Clement brothers did not know this, and was unaware when Merrick and Dobson spun around and shadowed them from a distance. ¡°Was there any trouble in Tortuga? I spoke with the lieutenant-governor, and he and I came to an understanding.¡±


    ¡°His people relayed that understanding,¡± Trenton sighed irritably. ¡°I was none too happy that he got first pick of our stock, Captain. None too happy.¡±


    ¡°But you see why it must be done. It was either that or Ren¨¦ may have taken them all instead.¡±


    ¡°I see that, and I understand, Captain. Still¡­¡± Trenton let it go, and went silent a moment.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    They walked through crowds that grew thicker every day, people now used to the Long Nights and adapting, making frequent trips to the Fish Market. Fishermen were working round the clock to keep up supply.


    They passed in front of the pillories, where three pirates had their arms and heads stuck through wooden planks, bent over, and were bleeding from the lashes they had received. Beside the pillories were the platforms where two empty nooses were being prepared to receive their next customers. The hangman was checking the mechanism on the trapdoors.


    ¡°And how has law and order gone here?¡± said Trenton, nodding towards the hangman. ¡°Are your methods bearing fruit?¡±


    ¡°They are. Slowly. But the firmament business has tossed us all into a tizzy. More people arrive daily from Kingston, telling us of deadly natives that ritually attack them. Port Royal has become a sanctuary of sorts. It will need increased defences, though, and soon. More fighting men, and more workers to repair the forts. That is why I am glad you brought your stock here.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. While I was in Tortuga, the lieutenant-governor told me of the natives becoming violent there, and how he was responding, since his government, like ours, has largely withdrawn support for the Caribbean. His idea is to use African slaves as a fighting force, promising them their freedom after several years of leal service. I thought that a cunning idea.¡±


    Trenton stopped in his tracks. ¡°Africans? Enforcers of law?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I share your astonishment, Trenton,¡± Rogers said, resuming their walk, ¡°but I would point you to our lack of food, the post-Cataclysm panic, the sightings of monsters that are reported daily, both at sea and on land.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Trenton in a low voice, his eyes searching around to make sure no one could hear. ¡°And¡­not to start a panic, sir, but can you tell me¡­what is the current situation with food stores? I have been told in Africa, in Tortuga, and in England itself that crops have continued to fail. There were attempts to increase the use of dung as fertilizer, I understand, but as plants die, animals grow hungry, and sick, and then die, so there is not animal dung enough to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I hear all your fears, Trenton, and to answer them, I will only ask if you brought what I asked from St. Lucia.¡±


    Trenton stepped around a mother and her young daughter who were bickering, and said in a low voice, ¡°I did, sir. The mushrooms, the spore samples, the materials to create a mushroom farm, all of it.¡±


    ¡°And the drawings from the mushroom farmers? The instructions on how to make a mushroom farm grow and flourish over years? Because it is difficult to keep such a farm going in certain soils and without the exact proper conditions.¡±


    ¡°As I say, we have it all, sir.¡±


    ¡°Then there you have it.¡±


    ¡°Is this really the only way forward?¡± asked Thornton. The younger brother now looked almost chilled to the bone. ¡°Are we all truly to become mushroom-eaters? Are we to subsist off of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Only until this Firmament Crisis passes, which I¡¯m told many learned men believe will happen soon.¡±


    ¡°How soon? How can anyone know when it¡¯ll end when this phenomenon is completely unprecedented¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not completely.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I said it is not completely unprecedented.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked Trenton.


    Now Rogers kept his voice low. ¡°In 536 A.D., most major civilizations on Earth report a total darkness that blanketed the Earth. It is a total mystery. It lasted eighteen months. That is a year and a half, gentlemen.¡±


    Trenton appeared mystified. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of this. But then, I am not a scholar. How did this happen?¡±


    ¡°It started when a mysterious fog rolled over Europe, the Middle East, and most of Asia. This caused temperatures to drop, and they stayed that way the entire eighteen months. It was, you might say, a literal Dark Age. And even after this Dark Age had passed, years of famine still followed as crops struggled to recover.¡± Rogers didn¡¯t know why he was sharing this, but what could it hurt? He had been reading further into the histories and come to the conclusion that some such phenomenon was taking place now, and with Vhingfrith in custody, there were few true intellectuals to converse with. ¡°Our ancestors were not prepared for it, but thanks to their historical records we have the gift of foresight¡ªwe know what¡¯s coming. At least, most intellectuals do. And it is time to prepare for it.¡± He smiled at the Clements. ¡°Which is why I am so happy to see you two heroes returned. Now, show me what you¡¯ve brought us.¡±


    At the dock they came to the three ships the Clement brothers had used to get their venture underway. Three brigantines, all with battered sails and with timbers looking the worse for wear, but by God they had made it. The slaves were just being brought up from the bilge, and the offloading was being overseen by the King¡¯s Militia. The Africans they had in chains were fine specimens, tall and sturdy-looking, if a little thin.


    ¡°They look underfed,¡± Rogers said.


    ¡°It was a long journey, Captain,¡± Trenton reminded.


    ¡°I can see that now. Excellent job, my friends,¡± Rogers said, watching the slaves being marched up the hill to the Admiralty Office. Their chains rattled and clacked and their big white eyes gazed around at Port Royal, which Rogers imagined must appear as strange as the three alien moons hovering above them. ¡°Just a splendid job, indeed. Cunningly done. And have you what we agreed upon? For our arrangement?¡±


    The Clements exchanged a tired glance, but they waved him over to where a net filled with chests was being hauled down from the yardarm. ¡°We already sold half our stock to the auctioneers, even before we got off the boat,¡± Trenton laughed, opening one of the chests to remove a large, jingling purse. ¡°They all rushed down here to have a look, they could hardly wait.¡±


    Rogers accepted his payment, and it disappeared inside his coat. ¡°Excellent. So you¡¯re already paid up?¡±


    ¡°Almost. As we agreed, the rest of them will be sold at a discounted price to any local farmers currently suffering collapse of their farms. Those that don¡¯t sell¡­well, my brother and I reserve the right to re-auction them.¡±


    ¡°I see. And where did you take these slaves from?¡±


    ¡°I already told you, from off the coast of the Dutch encampment.¡±


    ¡°So¡­not your own property? Not any lands you own?¡±


    ¡°Er, we don¡¯t have any property in Senegal, Captain,¡± he chuckled. ¡°You know that.¡±


    ¡°So, to be clear, you took these slaves off Dutch land. Land that England has a shared interest in. The colony in Yof Bay, in Senegal.¡±


    Trenton shrugged. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Excellent, excellent. And where is your commission statement?¡±


    Trenton smiled awkwardly. ¡°Our¡­?¡±


    ¡°Your commission. The paper that says you had a right to conduct this operation on Dutch and English territory.¡±


    Trenton looked over at Thornton, and then the two of them laughed. When they saw Woodes was not laughing, they both stopped. ¡°Captain Rogers, whatever are you¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Serjeant Merrick, Serjeant Dobson, have you heard enough?¡±


    ¡°We have, Captain,¡± said one of the militiaman stepping out from the shadows. They had been hiding away from the torches, standing behind the Clements, who swung around to face the redcoats and their sabres. Suddenly the docks were swarmed by men carrying rifles, and a dozen men pointing their weapons at the Clements, who both frowned and looked around at the trap in wide-eyed fear.


    ¡°What is this?¡± said Trenton.


    ¡°Serjeant Merrick, bind and gag them,¡± said Rogers. ¡°I don¡¯t want them shouting foul and declamatory lies as they¡¯re dragged to the pillory.¡±


    ¡°The pillory?!¡± Thorton said.


    ¡°What is the meaning of¡ª¡± said Trenton.


    ¡°Rogers, you snake! You said we¡¯d¡ª¡±


    Rogers drew his pistol and said, ¡°Now, Serjeant Merrick! I said bind and gag them now!¡±


    Thorton tried to run but was tackled to the dock and quickly gagged and bound. Trenton, seeing how they had been duped, tried at least to retain some of his dignity as he was bound and gagged and then hauled away from the dock. The other redcoats stormed onto their three ships, arresting the Clement brothers¡¯ crew and seizing all cargo, including any unsold slaves.


    A crowd of onlookers had gathered around the dock and were gazing at the two well-dressed men being hauled away.


    Rogers stepped off the boat and walked off to the dock, giving Serjeant Merrick his last instructions. ¡°You have enough to forego a trial, you heard them both confess.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    As the Clement brothers were shoved past Rogers, Thornton lunged at him. Serjeant Merrick clubbed him with the hilt of his sabre.


    ¡°The pillories are your first stop, gentlemen!¡± Rogers shouted, loud enough for all at the docks to hear. ¡°And I trust you saw Jack Ketch getting those nooses ready? Aye, he¡¯s got everything all set for you, after your penance is paid!¡±


    The crowds seemed to catch on and cheered that a hanging would soon take place. While they followed the militiamen and the Clements, Rogers went aboard each of the three ships he¡¯d confiscated, which would make great new prizes for Port Royal¡¯s defences. Their cannons were all in order and the decks seemed well-maintained. He would offer pardons to any of the Clements¡¯ crew who testified that they had been tricked into thinking they were sent to Senegal on a legitimate slaver¡¯s raid, and in return they would be allowed to man these three ships to defend Royal.


    Satisfied the ships would work out, Woodes went to inspect the slaves. He had a translator present, an African boy who worked in the Admiralty Office. Rogers told them, ¡°Every man here may earn his freedom, if he defends this island and its shores for the entirety of his three-year service, remains in good standing with the Admiralty Office there,¡± he pointed up to the castle on the hill, ¡°and all its lords within.¡±


    He smiled at some of their confused and awed looks as they looked upon the castle.


    ¡°You are all men of the Yoffoi tribe, I take it, down in the bay on Senegal. You committed crimes by trespassing on Dutch and English land. The penalty for that is death or slavery for life, but I am offering you this one mercy.¡± He stood in front of them, hands clasped behind him, the glow of three moons allowing him to see all their faces. A cold wind caused them all to shiver. ¡°You now begin to repay your debt to England. Be grateful. Few others ever get this chance. Not even those men.¡±


    Rogers pointed so that they could look up Fire Lane, away from the docks, at the Clement brothers being stripped naked, still bound and gagged, and their heads shoved through the holes of the pillories.


    ¡°Now,¡± Rogers said. ¡°Tell me now. What is your position?¡±


    The Africans all looked dumbly around at each other. Some of the women wept. Some of the men, too. After they were led away Rogers went aboard the ships again to inspect their holds. He found the apparatuses and materials needed to grow mushrooms, the large lattices and collections of spores, the schematics of the large mushroom farms, the instructions the Clements had written down from the farmers on what kind of soil worked best and how often to cultivate.


    It wasn¡¯t enough to simply grow mushrooms. Farms had to be converted, the environment had to be just right to grow enough to matter. Anyone might grow a few mushrooms here and there, but to reliably do it in the Caribbean, on islands where only certain kinds could grow, and to make them grow in enough numbers to actually matter¡­This will require a whole new paradigm shift, from cattle to spores.


    A paradigm shift that will need to last us months.


    Maybe years.


    Maybe decades.


    Forever?


    He dared not think of the possibility.


    The messenger is not important.


    Those words plagued him day and night. For if the messenger was not important, who then did he speak for? Perhaps Benjamin knew. Perhaps he ought to stay the order of execution and go ask.

 Chapter 40: Before the Devil Knows Youre Dead

    ¡°May you be in heaven half an hour before the Devil knows you¡¯re dead.¡± ¨C Old Irish saying


    ¡°LAND!¡± CAME THE call from the maintop. It was Nedry, the young boy who¡¯d had his arm amputated. He¡¯d also lost a foot to the Disease, had seen it turn to Tam, according to him. Those two missing limbs made him inadequate for most other duties, but Oddsummers had found a place for all his sickly crew. ¡°It¡¯s Port Royal ahead, sir!¡± Nedry still had a good set of cat¡¯s-eyes, and often had trouble sleeping. Perfect for staying awake during the Long Night and spotting sails. The cat¡¯s-eye was a strange new occurrence, many men and women were developing them throughout the Caribbean, even after having had no previous affliction. Some children were now being born with them, as if in answer to the Long Nights. Some said the privateer Benjamin Vhingfrith had had his cat¡¯s-eye since birth.


    No one knew what it meant. No one knew what any of it meant. There were only guesses, and those usually came soaked in superstition.


    I wonder how long before people start to realize the Cataclysm hasn¡¯t just changed the World, it¡¯s still changing it, it¡¯s changing the creatures in the sea, the clouds, and it¡¯s changing us, thought Oddsummers, walking up onto the bowsprit. With one hand he held onto rigging to keep his balance, and with the other hand he pulled down his plague mask and lifted the spyglass from his pocket. Three white moons¡ªone full, one gibbous, and one crescent¡ªallowed him to see clearly to shore. He sighted a small felucca ahead of them, pulling into the busiest and most cluttered docks he¡¯d ever seen. Ships of every class¡ªxebecs, man o¡¯ wars, settees, brigantines, trabacaloes, tartans, sloops, dinghies, even a carrack, probably captured from the Portuguese and turned into an English privateer¡ªthey were all stacked in whichever way the captains had deigned to bring them in, and turned in whichever way the dockmasters decided was most accommodating for the next incoming ship.


    It looked like a graveyard of ships.


    The Edinburgh was never going to fit in that chaotic mess. About a dozen ships seemed to have decided it was best to anchor away from the island and boat to shore. That was likely the best choice for the Edinburgh, Oddsummers declared to his men, and had his first mate Bainbridge pass it down the line. ¡°And make sure to pull down the yellow flag, Mr. Bainbridge. No need to keep up the ruse here. Though, they will probably assume we all have the Disease once they see you lot.¡±


    ¡°Aye, thirr,¡± Bainbridge slurred.


    ¡°Mr. Rollings?¡±


    ¡°Aye, Cap¡¯n.¡± The one-armed engineer he had picked up back in Newcastle was just coming up from belowdecks. He had three yellow-fleshed nippers with him, all survivors of the Disease. They followed him constantly, taking notes. Since leaving Newcastle, they had been soaking up every piece of knowledge about ship repair from him.


    ¡°We cannot careen anywhere near harbour,¡± Oddsummers said. ¡°But the Turtle Crawles are said to accept all sorts of ships, for a price. Worse than usual wharfage fees. Take Mr. Daltry with you, he was a trader once, he ought to be a keen negotiator. We need oakum to plug the holes we got when scraping through the Serpent¡¯s Corridor.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard only pirates moor in the Turtle Crawles, sir.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°Are we pirates, sir?¡±


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have letters of marque, yet we¡¯ve also not plundered anyone on the way here.¡±


    ¡°Then there you have it. We are enterprisers, Mr. Rollings. We are the Edinburgh and never forget, and that¡¯s enough.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Gandross, at the waist there! Lively now!¡± Oddsummers pulled his plague mask back on and went to join Corbin on the quarterdeck. He clapped the helmsman on his bony shoulders. ¡°You did well, Mr. Corbin. You made Jamaica in commendable time.¡±


    ¡°Believe ¡¯twas the Altered Night, sir,¡± Corbin muttered, never looking up. He never looked anyone in the eye, not even the captain. The Disease had left him with a fear of holding a person¡¯s gaze, but his was the only instance of such an aftereffect. ¡°Those islands¡­they weren¡¯t where they was s¡¯pposed to be. And I believe Mr. James was correct with his charts.¡±


    ¡°I believe he was, also. And you are right, the Altered Night seems to have shortened the distance between England and the Caribbean, though I had read it typically lengthens the distance between two points. Odd, that. Even so, you kept it together and never abandoned your post, even when the lights in the water showed you the ghost of your dearly departed wife. You remained strong. Commendable.¡±


    ¡°Thankee, Captain. Now, you¡¯ll keep your promise?¡±


    Oddsummers looked at his helmsman. He had hoped the pilot would forget their conversation from two nights ago. Oddsummers felt strange about making promises. He never kept them to enemies, but he tried to keep them whenever he made them to someone loyal to him. ¡°If your wife¡¯s ghost told you to follow her through death¡¯s door, and if you truly believe it was her that you saw on the deck, and not some illusion from the firmament, then yes, Mr. Corbin, I will help you on once we¡¯re ashore. Once we¡¯re settled in.¡±


    Corbin nodded. Never looked at the captain. Never looked anywhere but at the course ahead of him. ¡°How will you do it?¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t see it coming, Mr. Corbin.¡±


    ¡°Thankee, sir. It¡¯s been a pleasure serving with you. I hope you find whatever ¡¯tis you¡¯re looking for out here, Levasseur¡¯s treasure or otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Corbin. And I hope you find your wife waiting beyond the veil of this mortal world.¡± Oddsummers meant it, too. He liked nothing better than seeing a good man get what he was owed.


    Oddsummers took up the oars himself once in the boat, and only brought six men with him, including Corbin. The rest he left to watch over the Edinburgh. When they got to the docks, it was immediately evident that none here had seen any survivors of the Disease. Their yellow-fleshed bodies and drawn, etiolated eyes made some of his crew appear like skeletons with cracked, yellow leather pulled over their bones. Oddsummers himself was a survivor of the Disease, but he kept his flesh completely covered, and the plague doctor¡¯s mask made him look more like their keeper than their kin.


    On their way across the briny deep, the Edinburgh had intercepted a packet ship called the Saint John, bound for Madagascar. Her captain was a man named Rothchild, who hadn¡¯t boarded, due to Edinburgh flying the yellow flag of a plagued ship. But Rothchild had shouted across the waves that so far the Disease had not reached any Caribbean shores. And he had also exchanged a few rumours, starting with one concerning Woodes Rogers and his friend Benjamin Vhingfrith. It seemed the Devil¡¯s Son was soon to be on trial for ¡°conspiring with dark forces.¡±


    Upon hearing this report, Oddsummers had called for all stunsails loosed, to catch every last scrap of wind to reach Port Royal before the trial.


    But they had heard other reports, too. Stopping by St. Kitts, they learned of Munt¡¯s supposed whereabouts in Nassau, of increased attacks against pirates by the Royal Navy, of rebellious Caribee natives worshipping new gods they claimed spoke to them from the firmament, and, in Nassau, rumours of the Hazard¡¯s return, her belly bloated with untold treasures, weighing her down so that she moved sluggishly. There were rumours of a secret Spanish fort being hit in Panam¨¢.


    There is so much going on in the Caribbean. Why didn¡¯t anyone tell me? he thought, laughing to himself. Far more exciting than the bloody Indian Ocean.


    Presently, Oddsummers sent a prayer up to Holda and Venus to oversee his journey, and see that its end bring him fortune. He moved past the militiamen at the dock. Or, rather, the militiamen moved out of his way, probably assuming, what with his plague mask, that he was some sort of doctor accompanying his patients.


    A murmur of panic moved through the docks and Oddsummers saw some of the workers turn and run. One man even jumped into the water to avoid the sickly-looking men. Oddsummers made no attempt to explain that his men were cured, and that their bodies were only cursed by the aftermath of the Disease. It suited his purposes if everyone stood out of his way. No one would likely even attempt to rob them.


    He knew generally the layout of Port Royal and walked straight down Queen Street to stand outside the gate of the Governor¡¯s Mansion. ¡°Wait here,¡± he told Corbin and the others.


    The guards at the gate looked wary. One of them shouted, ¡°Stop right there!¡± and brandished his sword.


    ¡°I need speak with the governor,¡± said Oddsummers. ¡°The matter is most urgent.¡±


    ¡°Oy, yeah? And I¡¯ll be wanting an audience with Lucky George himself.¡±


    ¡°I believe I might be able to arrange that,¡± he said, removing his mask. And the guard paled visibly. ¡°I¡¯m told by my mother that I am actually the son of some duke or other that took a fancy to her when she was thirteen. I never caught my mother in a lie, so we can assume that puts me somewhere along the royal bloodline¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fuck off! And take your Diseased back wherever you come from, or you¡¯ll be strung up in the¡ª¡±


    ¡°My name is Captain Belardino Oddsummers. Formerly of the Spirited, I now captain the Edinburgh, which you can see just there.¡± He pointed beyond the docks. The three moons lit the inlet spectacularly, every ship was easily spotted. ¡°I¡¯m a known privateer and pirate, a traitor to England, a man who has helped the French government sink many of your ships. I¡¯m here to surrender myself either into your governor¡¯s custody or into his service. I think he¡¯ll want the latter. Tell him if he accepts, he¡¯ll have his share of Levasseur¡¯s treasure. But I must have two things from him¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask for much, do you¡ª¡±


    ¡°First, there is a man somewhere either on this island or on New Providence called Munt. Some call him Cartera, others call him Dodum. He¡¯s a corpulent man, but well dressed. You cannot miss him. I want a reward put on his head, I want him seized and brought to me. Secondly, I understand you¡¯ve got a man by the name of Benjamin Vhingfrith in custody here in Royal. The Hero of Port Royal. Helped you boys fend off a couple of Spanish naos. I¡¯ll also want him brought to me.¡±


    ¡°You do, do you?¡± said a second guard, stepping forward, the bayonet on the end of his musket aimed at Oddsummers¡¯s chest. ¡°Why would anybody listen to¡ª¡±


    ¡°The men behind me are not Diseased. Both they and I survived the new plague in England. But there are others aboard the Edinburgh that are sick, and they will simply rush this island if I don¡¯t return to them soon with an answer from Lord Hamilton. So tell the governor he either comes to speak with this traitor, or he¡¯ll have pestilence on his island that he¡¯ll not be rid of for years. Ask any priest in England how goes the search for a cure. Those are your choices.¡± He smiled and added, ¡°And my men are most faithful. They¡¯ll do whatever I say. Isn¡¯t that right, Mr. Bainbridge?¡±


    Bainbridge was standing directly behind Corbin. He stepped forward. ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    Oddsummers looked upon his men and pretended to have a hard time choosing. Then he pointed at Corbin and said, ¡°Him.¡±


    Bainbridge drew his pistol and pointed it at Corbin¡¯s head and shot him and some of the brain matter spattered across Oddsummers¡¯s face. ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    The two guards had been living in Port Royal a long time, and so death could not shock them. These men had likely seen and committed degradations beyond measure. But the randomness of it, of a captain ordering the death of one of his crew, without having to say the words, and the others seemingly unmoved by it, would surely shake any man. Especially under a Long Night like this. Oddsummers had learned that the Long Night often made many threats easier.


    But the other crewmen had been secretly prepared for this moment. Oddsummers had told them what would happen. Only Corbin hadn¡¯t known it was coming, as per their agreement. And while Oddsummers hated to shoot a man into the mud, he hated even more to waste any resource without first using it to advance his goals.


    I hope you find your wife there, beyond the veil, his heart whispered.


    ¡°One hour,¡± Oddsummers said, pulling his mask back on and stepping backward to rejoin his men. ¡°That¡¯s how long Lord Hamilton has to send an envoy to a drinking hall I passed back there¡ªI believe it¡¯s called The Golden Goose? I¡¯ll be waiting out in front of it. If I don¡¯t have an answer and am not returned to my ship within the hour, those Diseased men are all coming ashore. And make sure you emphasize Levasseur¡¯s treasure. That part particularly will interest the governor.¡± He tipped his hat. ¡°Good day to you, gentlemen.¡±


    ____


    Drip-drip-drip¡­


    Vhingfrith awoke to the sound. He looked up at the one-foot-wide slit of grating on the ceiling, where a silvery shaft of moonlight was coming through. It was the only source of light in the room. Stinking water dribbled in from outside, lightly dripping from the bars and onto the widening puddle at the center of his cell. Faintly, he heard voices from outside. A wagonmaster admonishing a horse or ox.


    Drip-drip-drip¡­


    All of Marshallsea Prison¡¯s dungeons were belowground. He knew, because he had been in Port Royal when they were being built, watched as the foundation was laid over three weeks. It had been his second or third sailing trip with his father, when the old man finally decided to allow Benjamin to start learning the business. He had looked into those fourteen gaping pits, and the mud-covered men digging them, and asked what they would be used for. Long as you follow everything I say, Benjamin, you need never find out, Father had said.


    Drip-drip-drip¡­


    Benjamin pushed himself off the floor. They had left him his coat, which he bundled into a pillow. But now he stood up and put it back on. The room was small enough that if he stood in the middle and reached out both arms his fingertips touched the walls. So there was no way to avoid the water dripping on his head. His scratched at his beard. Cracked his knuckles and leaned backward to stretch his back. Touched his neck, where the silver locket had been. They would have taken it, along with his rings, had Munt not been able to pay him a visit in the stocks where he was pilloried for a day.


    The guards took everything worth anything. For some reason they even took his shoes.


    He paced through water he was certain was runoff from one of the many sewage pipes that had been inadequately installed the year before, back when Port Royal had an influx of money from the Treasury, before the Cataclysm suddenly made the Crown tight with its purse, not knowing what to expect next.


    He walked in a circle. Because what else was there to do?


    Drip-drip-drip¡­


    Benjamin thought about nothing and no one. But he did sing. He had heard men somewhere that were marooned talked to themselves, sang, and tried not to think of home. At least, the ones who succeeded at both surviving and keeping themselves from going mad. He had read the accounts of Hornigold and his time on a small island near St. Kitts, and the key seemed to be not pining for what was lost and hoping for rescue, but to simply stay busy. Do not think of the treachery that brought you to this point¡ª


    Rogers.


    ¡ªand certainly do not dwell on what you would do once you were free¡ª


    Skin him and boil him alive.


    ¡ªjust stay focused on moving, singing, improving yourself through exercise. Benjamin willfully kept his mind away from Rogers¡¯s promise that he would get a speedy and fair hearing, and he refused to look at the dark corner of his mind where he had locked away all thoughts about his crew and John Laurier and hopes of fleeing to the Colonies, and he bit his tongue any time his mind went near wondering what had happened to the Lively.


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    And he walked. He ran his fingers over the grooves in the wall, the messages carved by past residents. Residents who hadn¡¯t known how to spell.


    Drip-drip-drip¡­


    Benjamin¡¯s mind betrayed him, though, many times. It would always happen when he ran out of songs to sing and would have to start all over again. That¡¯s when he would look up at the bars above him and wonder if he could jump to them. They seemed almost within reach. If so, he wondered if he could take off his coat and loop it around one of the bars and still have enough slack to form a noose. Don¡¯t let them hang you, his father said. If you can, die on your own account. Don¡¯t give the bastards the satisfaction. Your mother and I will be waiting.


    And then he paced again. And sang. The puddle had been getting deeper these days, for the water had nowhere to go, and the sun hadn¡¯t come out to evaporate it. It was going to be another Long Night, he reckoned.


    He licked his lips. No water in a whole day, even though he¡¯d been promised good treatment¡ª


    Rogers.


    Drip-drip-drip¡­


    He kept walking and singing. Now he was on to his mother¡¯s hymns, and those sometimes made him cry.


    Benjamin touched the place on his neck where the locket had been for so many years. John Laurier entered his mind again. How could he not? Benjamin had never felt true romantic love¡ªor perhaps he had and hadn¡¯t known it? He had known friendship and closeness and attraction, all of it for John, and perhaps one or two others. But never more fiercely than him.


    Benjamin now worried that he had experienced love, and had somehow missed it, somehow failed to marvel at it and appreciate it.


    ¡°I should have gone with you, John,¡± he said to the damp stone walls.


    The next time he ran out of songs to sing, Benjamin stopped pacing and looked down at the puddle. He had heard that a man could feasibly drown in one inch of water. Drunken men who fell face-first into puddles had been known to. Was that a better way to go? Could he even do it? He had heard men hung themselves because, if done right, there was no going back, but the body would fight naturally against drowning and usually succeeded if not weighted down in a deep body of water. So, the bars were looking good. He could perhaps make a noose out of his clothing and throw it up and over the bars¡ª


    The messenger is not important. The last words spoken by Swanson came back to him. Benjamin had been occupying his mind with theories again. He had been taking inventory of the creatures of the firmament. Swanson was still a mystery, but his existence proved that the firmament had Mimics. What had his mother called them?


    Pantomime spirits. Ghosts that do not speak¡­until they do. And then their voices are a terrible thing to behold.


    Then there were the Beasts that attacked Port Royal, on the same day some huge demon appeared on the shore. And of course there were people saying they saw the ghosts of dead relatives. Spectres.


    Mimics, Corruption, Disease, Leviathans, Spectres, Demons, Beasts. The list was getting longer without any indication of a common ancestor. All as diverse as Earth¡¯s natural wonders. But were they related? Benjamin wracked his brain. He recalled a book a friend of his father¡¯s had loaned him, written by some French naturalist¡ªWhat was his name? Never mind, doesn¡¯t matter¡ªand in it he proposed the idea of some sort of transmutation of species over time. A radical notion, that God may have worked out all life over time, rather than instantly, that He had slowly changed one lifeform into another, over hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. Not only that, but the naturalist had proposed that God was perhaps still tinkering with Earth¡¯s flora and fauna. Like an ongoing experiment.


    That could account for commonalities in Nature, he thought, trying anything to keep his mind off the blood stains left in the corners of the room, and the tally marks scrawled into the walls around him. Whales and dolphins need to breach the surface to take in air, unlike fish that breathe water. Perhaps whales and humans both stem from common designs of the Creator¡¯s. Or at least a portion. Maybe God used similar components in different projects. If that is so, then Whose design do the Leviathans and Mimics follow? Who is the Creator of the firmament¡ª


    He shook himself. It was no good trying to unriddle the power of one Creator, let alone two. And besides, that French naturalist had been hanged and the book Benjamin had read had been among the last, all the other copies burned by the Church. These thought experiments were probably less helpful than just singing.


    And yet.


    The messenger is not important. Those were Swanson¡¯s words. And the odour that emanated from his mouth when he spoke, it had been the same as the odour when Olaf dissected the Beast. Ammonia and feces. What did that¡ª


    There was a sound like creaking wood, like a footstep on old stairs. Benjamin turned and looked around his cell. Nothing there. He started pacing again, but stopped when the sound persisted. Creaking wood, the sound of it breaking. He looked around again, and saw nothing, but then something went by his face. A shadow. He looked up and his cat¡¯s-eye allowed him to see it clear. And he screamed. Horror filled his every organ. Hanging from the bars over his head, impossibly, was the small shadowy form of a boy, and his body swung slowly back and forth. And though the rope around his neck was lashed to the bars above, Benjamin heard the creaking of the barn rafters, and saw Toby¡¯s eyes, opened wide, gazing down at him.


    ¡°No,¡± he whispered. ¡°No, no, no, you¡¯re not here! No, no, no!¡±


    Toby¡¯s lips moved. No words came out, but they moved. And Benjamin somehow knew what Toby was trying to say. The messenger isn¡¯t important.


    Benjamin buried his face against the wall and clenched his eyes shut. Then, snarling, growling, enraged at his dark fate, he spun around and gazed up at Toby. At the Messenger. ¡°You¡¯re him? You¡¯re the Thing That Was Swanson?¡± Toby kept swinging lightly back and forth, and the wood-creaking sound filled the dungeon. He would not blink or look away from Ben. ¡°You¡¯re the Messenger. So what else are you? What are you? Whom do you serve? A messenger serves someone.¡± The body kept swinging in a sourceless breeze. Kept staring at Ben. ¡°Bastard! Speak! Speak to me! If you¡¯re a Messenger then speak¡ª¡±


    ¡°What is this world?¡± Toby said, and as before the air became foul and Ben gagged and pressed his sleeve to his nose and mouth.


    ¡°What¡ªwhat do you mean? This is world is¡ªit is the World!¡±


    ¡°You are moving. Why?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re moving? To where? Are you saying¡­are you saying the whole world is moving? It¡¯s changing its position?¡±


    ¡°You keep moving. It is hard to pin you down.¡±


    ¡°Then where is this place? Please, tell me, help to understand. Where are we when the Long Night comes?¡±


    ¡°You slipped and fell,¡± said Toby, his eyes piercing Benjamin¡¯s. ¡°Into a teeny, tiny hole, you slipped and fell. A hole in the ground. You try to crawl out, but you are sinking, deeper and deeper. Why are you all so soft? How is it you are so soft and yet still live? Why is it so pleasant to squeeze you?¡±


    Benjamin gagged again, almost vomited. He looked up at the Messenger and started to shout something back, something about how he did not understand any of this.


    But then something hit him on the head. A glass bottle bounced off him and landed on the floor, its neck shattering, its contents partially soaked in the puddle.


    Stunned a moment, Benjamin looked up at the grating. He saw a dark form break the moonlight. Then the form was gone. As was Toby.


    ¡°No.¡± The word was spoken as a ward against something encroaching on his mind, a madness imposed by the firmament. ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t¡­it wasn¡¯t real, Ben. God Almighty, help me to keep my sanity.¡±


    The Messenger is not important.


    The words lingered in his mind


    He picked up the remains of the bottle and removed its contents: a scroll of paper no wider than his forefinger. When he unrolled it, the writing was tiny but elegant. He knew its owner immediately. Munt. Benjamin moved away from the door in case a guard looked through the peephole, and closed his left eye to read the message in the safety of shadow.


    If this doesn¡¯t work, my Friende, my deepest Apologies, and I hope to meet you in the Worlde beyond this one to give you my Condolences in person. But if it does happen, it will happen quickly, and so you must be Prepared. There are three possible Outcomes, and they all will transpire during your Transfer. You are to be sent from Marshallsea to Fort Carlisle, and there a Sentence will be passed down, not in your Favour, and in a Secret Tribunal.


    So, when you pass by the Graveyarde, be ready, for your escape might come from There.


    If not, look to the Clocktower being built near the Produce Market, you may find Help waiting.


    And if not there, either, then look to the Old Church, at the Statue of the Virgin Mary.


    Oddsummers is in Port Royal and has asked for your Transfer. He¡¯s demanded to have both you and I brought to him. I know not why. But my Sources tell me that you will not be handed over to him, you will instead be charged with Conspiring with him and Hanged alongside him. This will be dangerous. But I brought Help.


    I hope this Works, old Friende. God love you, and God keep you. And if this doesn¡¯t go Well, then may you be in Heaven half an hour, as the Irish say.


    Benjamin read the letter again, memorizing every word. If it was not for the fact he knew Munt¡¯s handwriting so well, he would be inclined to believe this was a test from the Admiralty or the Tribunal, to see where his loyalties really were.


    It still could be. They could have Munt, and be forcing him to write the letter.


    But the letter did not ask him to do anything, only wait for some unknown event or events to transpire. A window of opportunity, that was all Munt was promising.


    And now his guts were in knots. He looked up again, to where Toby had been swinging¡ªto where the Messenger had been. The Messenger was gone.


    Ben¡¯s hands were trembling.


    One chance. Just one chance to escape, or a group of men who have already decided my fate will pass judgment on me and that will be that.


    Benjamin started to pace.


    Help, he says. But who would help Munt to¡ª?


    There was a loud thump on the door. The bar being moved aside. Benjamin wadded up the paper and shoved it down his pants, and when the door opened, three armed men entered carrying shackles. They clapped the irons on him and yanked him out and shut the door, leaving the dungeon once more empty and awaiting its next guest. A mouse that had been hiding this whole time now crept out from a hole and began sniffing around. It heard the sound of creaking wood, and sensed a cold presence, and fled back into its hole, leaving Toby to his tomb.


    Drip-drip-drip¡­


    ____


    Oddsummers did not meet the governor¡¯s envoy at The Golden Goose as he promised. He would have been a fool to do so, because that would have led to his arrest. So, he left one of his crew, the carpenter Mr. Earley, to stand at the doorstep of the drinking hall and await the militiamen sent to arrest him. Earley would inform them that Captain Oddsummers was, in fact, not to be found inside the hall, but rather at the graveyard, surrounded by a cadre of his armed men.


    Oddsummers waited in the graveyard humming a chanty and glancing over the headstones. He did not have to wait long.


    When the militiamen arrived, they stood at the entrance to the graveyard, under the light of the three moons, and saw that they were outnumbered. More, they could not be sure how many of his crew Oddsummers had hidden in the trees at the edges of the mausoleum. More, they could not be certain that simply by approaching the Edinburgh¡¯s crew they wouldn¡¯t be infected by the Disease themselves.


    Ravens swirled like mad, driven into a frenzy by the triple moon showing. The militiamen departed, and returned with a handful of Royal Marines to support them.


    Behidn his mask, Oddsummers smiled. They don¡¯t know how to proceed. It¡¯s almost adorable.


    One of them had the rank of major, and stepped forward with his hand resting on his undrawn sabre. A pointed threat. This man¡¯s temperament was cool, even a little cavalier, as he strutted alone into the graveyard. Oddsummers respected him immediately. The major opened his mouth to speak.


    ¡°Captain Vhingfrith isn¡¯t coming, is he?¡± Oddsummers cut him off.


    The major gave a then smile that was, by turns, placating, apologetic, and sarcastic. ¡°No, Captain. I¡¯m afraid not.¡±


    ¡°I see. And I am to be escorted to Marshallsea to join him?¡±


    ¡°You have the right of it.¡±


    ¡°I see, I see.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re him, then. Belardino Oddsummers. ¡®The Villain¡¯ is what they call you in the Indian Ocean, is it not?¡±


    Oddsummers didn¡¯t answer him.


    The major¡¯s eyes glanced at the dozen armed men standing behind Oddsummers. ¡°None of you have committed treason yet. It is only your captain that is known to have betrayed his country. But should you strike against us¡ª¡±


    Oddsummers walked forward. Twenty feet behind the major, at the graveyard¡¯s entrance, militiamen and marines alike pointed their muskets at him. Oddsummers stopped in front of the major. He stood a head taller than the marine, but the marine didn¡¯t seem fazed. ¡°If you think you¡¯ll get my men to turn on me, Major, please understand I am likened unto God. For I gave them a purpose and respect. They sail again, aboard the Edinburgh. Where England took their souls, Oddsummers gave them back. Where the rest of the World saw them fit only for the ditch, the Villain saw them fit to bend a sail. What can you do for them that I haven¡¯t already? What can you give them that the Villain hasn¡¯t already bequeathed? Arrest me, and you hold the one thing in the World they still value, and will fight with their fingers and teeth to get back.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t intimidate me, sir. I¡¯ve endured the Cataclysm and fought the Beasts when they came, and I¡¯ve dealt with pirates like you all my life. But I do rather prefer to see pirates stand trial.¡±


    ¡°I know. And then to swing from a gallows, to then put their heads on pikes for all on York Street to see. Like you did with Roberts and McMillan.¡±


    ¡°If you want to die here tonight, Captain, you merely have to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Walter Tate.¡±


    The major blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You should know the name of the man upon whose grave you now stand.¡± He gestured.


    The major looked down at the tombstone to his right and read the name there. ¡°Friend of yours?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve no idea who he was. But would you like to meet him?¡±


    ¡°Come again?¡±


    Oddsummers reached into his coat and pulled out the glass vial. The Tam¡¯s glowing pink colour shone brighter in the darkness. The major had seen Oddsummers go for the vial and so gripped his sabre hilt. Oddsummers poured just a dab of Tam onto the soil between his feet. ¡°It doesn¡¯t always work, I¡¯m told, but that¡¯s all right. If first time¡¯s not a charm, we have others around we might introduce ourselves to¡ªah.¡± Oddsummers heard the thumping. He stepped back from the major to give Walter Tate some space. ¡°I thought this might work.¡±


    ¡°What are you¡ª?¡±


    The thumping got louder, and now the major heard it and looked at the ground.


    ¡°I recall hearing that when the last tsunami hit Port Royal, many bodies in the graveyard were washed into the streets, and out to sea. That¡¯s because the soil is so loose and mushy, and the lack of space means you people often bury your dead in piles, one on top of the other, and therefore corpses are usually just a foot or two below the surface. Whole heaps of them.¡±


    The major stared at the ground. The thumping became loud.


    Oddsummers put a finger to his ear. ¡°Wait¡­just wait.¡± He knelt, and started raking away the leaves, then pulled up huge chunks of earth. When the blue-skinned, worm-eaten hand stabbed up from the ground, Oddsummers grabbed hold. ¡°There we go. Welcome back, Mr. Tate. Pleased to meet you.¡± With a swift jerk, he pulled the rest of the arm out of the soil, where some of the flesh sloughed off. ¡°Tombstone says he died last month, so I assumed he¡¯d still have some meat left on his bones. Eh¡ªMajor?¡±


    The major had drawn back, sword half drawn, gazing wide-eyed at the blasphemous vision.


    It looked like Walter Tate was struggling to get out, sliding back into the slippery earth. Oddsummers chuckled as he helped clear away the muck for him, pushing the worms away from his busted brown teeth. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m eager to see how this works. I¡¯d only heard rumours before I left England, but the ursulas are rarely wrong, and I thought I¡¯d show you¡ª¡±


    ¡°God!¡± the major hissed.


    ¡°They are being called draugr, or dr¨¹r, an old Scandinavian word¡ª¡±


    ¡°God in heaven!¡± the major hissed.


    ¡°You sure He¡¯s still at His post?¡± Oddsummers laughed. He stood up and dusted himself off, allowing the creature to find its own way out. ¡°But please, Major, just listen. I am benandanti. We have our ways, I¡¯m sure you know. We know things. We collect things. I am a hunter for the Order, and right now I am hunting something that belonged to Olivier Levasseur. French pirate, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard of him. I asked your guards¡ªare you listening, Major?¡ªI asked your guards at the Governor¡¯s Mansion to relay that message to Lord Hamilton, but it appears you all did the predictable thing and assumed I wouldn¡¯t raise Hell¡ªliteral Hell¡ªand send my Diseased men ashore to Corrupt all of you.¡±


    The Major put a hand over his nose and mouth, either to cover his horror or the odour or both. Walter Tate continued crawling out of his grave. Worms and mud fell from his mushy eye sockets.


    ¡°It seems you think me an ordinary man. I am not. Nor is my crew ordinary. Nor my ship, whose guns face the shore right now but aren¡¯t within sight of any of your fortress¡¯s batteries. Or hadn¡¯t you noticed? Just what had you hoped to accomplish when you walked out here all alone?¡± Oddsummers sighed. ¡°Was there even a plan?¡±


    ¡°God¡­God in heaven¡­¡±


    Walter Tate found a way to get his head all the way out, and what hair he had left was peeled away, along with half his scalp, to reveal a blackened skeleton. The shirt he was buried in looked like a dockworker¡¯s uniform, and a mouse leapt out of the shirt pocket. The stench was thick, even through the herbs in the plague mask, and Oddsummers felt sure the major had never smelled anything like it. Not from anything still moving. Walter Tate¡¯s jaw hung open and his half-eaten tongue teemed with maggots. Tate opened his mouth in a loud breath, and mud pouring from his throat.


    The major turned and started walking away. Slowly. He didn¡¯t run, he just walked. Stumbled. Like a man caught in a dream. Then he fell to his knees and calmly stood back up, swaying on his feet like seaweed, and had just started to run when Oddsummers caught up to him and snatched him backward by his collar. He pressed the beak of his mask against the major¡¯s nose.


    ¡°Captain Vhingfrith, you fucking cunt! Bring him to me! And Munt, too! Or I¡¯ll find your mother in here, or your brother or your son or one of your dead friends and I¡¯ll bring the rotten fucker back to life, I swear to God! This was just one vial! I¡¯ll drown this whole fucking graveyard in this shit, bring them all back to life like Christ Risen, every little girl dead of pneumonia, every fucking rapist and cunt father and cunt sister! And if you think you¡¯re afraid of me now, if you think you saw something sinister when you faced the Beasts of the Cataclysm, wait until you see every fucking pirate you hung resurrected and charging through these streets, fucking you up the arse with their rotten fucking cocks! Tell Lord Hamilton what you just saw, and tell him to bring me Captain Vhingfrith tonight, here, now! Tell him I command the draugr! Tell him I¡¯m Captain-fucking-Belardino-Oddsummers, and I wake the dead!¡±


    The major saw something over Oddsummers¡¯s shoulder. Oddsummers sensed someone approaching behind him. The major, pale-faced and with tears in his eyes, whispered, ¡°My God,¡± and pushed himself away from Oddsummers and ran back to his men.


    Oddsummers turned and saw Walter Tate staggering like a man on stilts, teetering to the side. A baby learning to walk again. The slabs of muscle hanging from his legs were going to make that difficult. Oddsummers walked past him, wondering if the dead man could see without eyes. Those two black sockets were filled with nothing but writhing maggots. He stood a moment, fascinated, then continued back to his men, some of whom were visibly shaken, despite having been prepared for the show.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± he said. ¡°You all did very well. Mr. Garfield, would you be so good as to light an arrow and fire it yonder? That¡¯s the signal they¡¯re waiting for back on the Edinburgh.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡± Mr. Garfield said it in almost a whisper, gawking at the draugr.


    He looked at all their uneasy faces. All of them were staring at Walter Tate, who went stumbling off into the night. He chuckled. ¡°Lively now, boys. This is just the start. They haven¡¯t even seen our third act.¡±

 Chapter 41: The Doldrums

    the doldrums ¨C A term referring to the belt around the Earth near the equator, where ships sometimes get stuck in windless waters.


    THESE STARS LOOKED familiar to him. Laurier stood on the roof of a cobbler¡¯s shop on a corner of Queen Street, facing east towards York Street, studying the red splash of hazy light that encompassed the stars, thinking they looked like a painter¡¯s careless strokes across a black canvas. Three moons¡ªone crescent, one gibbous, one full¡ªappeared to stand still. The full one he studied through spyglass, and, by straining his eyes, he caught a shape every so often that looked rather dark and mysterious, almost serpentine in form, moving as though it was on the moon¡¯s surface. But that could have merely been something in his eye, couldn¡¯t it?


    ¡°The world is no longer as it was, is it, Akil,¡± he said.


    From the other edge of the roof, a shadow spoke. ¡°No, Captain.¡±


    ¡°No. And I think it¡¯s now time we admit it isn¡¯t going to return to normal. That this is normal. A mystery written across our skies each night, which robs us of sunlight and affects tides, crops, birds, geography, even time itself.¡± He sighed. ¡°Is this what Blackbeard saw?¡±


    ¡°Blackbeard, Captain?¡±


    John opened his timepiece and observed that it was meant to be eight o¡¯clock in the morning. But what did that mean, anymore? Why tell time at all when not even the rooster could tell the farmer when to start the day?


    ¡°Do your people have a story for the end of the world?¡± he asked.


    Akil spoke, but his shadowy silhouette never moved. ¡°We believe first man was born from a bamboo stem, and the rest of the world grew up around man. First the plants, then the animals that ate the plants, and then all the, eh¡­animal-eaters.¡±


    ¡°Predators.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t say?¡± John pointed his spyglass back down to earth, to the long lane that led to the Produce Market. ¡°And what about death? Where do you go when you die?¡±


    ¡°It is complicated. A long time ago come the chameleon, who was sent by the gods to say, ¡®All men will never die.¡¯ But on his way to give message, he stopped to eat. While he ate, a lizard was sent to say, ¡®All men shall die.¡¯ Him being much quicker than chameleon, lizard¡¯s message was delivered first, and the law of death was made.¡±


    John smiled. ¡°So all men die because the chameleon was late? Fascinating. I don¡¯t know that the Bible ever gives a reason for why men are supposed to die, only what happens after we do. But you didn¡¯t answer my first question. What happens at the end of the world?¡±


    ¡°There be no end, Captain. Everything is eternal, nothing vanishes forever.¡±


    John lowered the spyglass and swung his gaze out to sea. ¡°I hope you are right, brother.¡±


    They waited a few more minutes. Elsewhere, the Hazard would be coming around to the southeastern side of the island with all lights doused. Hazard could no more anchor at Port Royal¡¯s harbour than John could walk openly in public¡ªhe and the entire crew risked arrest and seizure of the ship, so from afar she signaled by lantern-flash to the Africans sent ashore in boats, who in turn signaled from atop the hills to more Africans waiting at the peak of Blue Top Mountain, who then signaled down to yet more Africans waiting in the valley, who finally sent the last signal flare to the men who swam to shore in cold waters.


    The message was relayed across the island, all the way to wherever the Hazard was now.


    Because Port Royal was so lit up at night, there was no way for Laurier to receive a light signal from the shore and pick it out. So, he waited for the trio of gunshots to ring out from somewhere near the docks in quick succession. There were usually shots ringing out in Port Royal at all hours of the day. No one would notice anything peculiar.


    When the shots came, he said, ¡°There it is. Hazard is in position. We have twenty minutes. After that, Okoa has orders to leave and sail for the other side of the island. If any of us survive and make it that far, we rendezvous with Hazard at Hope Bay. Do you understand, Akil?¡±


    ¡°I understand, Captain.¡±


    ¡°Good. Then you and your men have my leave.¡±


    Akil nodded wordlessly and he, Bogoa, and three other African warriors swung their legs over the roof, hung from the eaves by their fingers, and dropped silently into the alley and vanished.


    ¡°Dobbs,¡± he said, turning to the young man who had been waiting quietly behind him, one of three rifles aimed down the street towards Marshallsea Prison.


    ¡°Sir?¡± The young man was lying on his belly, his one eye trained down the length of the barrel. ¡°You know what to do.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    ¡°Like God¡¯s judgment.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    ¡°If we make it out of this, I¡¯ll want you to consider sailing up to the Colonies, as I¡¯ve told you before. I want you to marry a sweet girl and have children and forget this life. You¡¯ve done enough, and earned your share of treasure, enough to live an easy life. You¡¯re not notorious yet, your name isn¡¯t on the account, and no lawmen are looking for you. You should have a clean life. And if we don¡¯t make it out of this, well then, I¡¯ll meet you on Fiddler¡¯s Green. Those are my orders.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir. My father is waiting there. He¡¯ll have a mighty fine haggis waiting for us, and a porridge like his gran used to make. You¡¯ll love it.¡±


    ¡°Fiddler¡¯s Green it is, then.¡± Laurier pulled his pistol from its brace. Made sure it was primed.


    Laurier dropped off the opposite side of the roof than the Africans had done, climbing down the stack of crates they¡¯d used to climb atop it, and walked quickly. He moved in men¡¯s clothing, long coat over a stained white shirt, with fur-insulated gloves and his collar pulled up because of the cold. Even John¡¯s hair had been cut short, so as to alter his appearance, and his neck was also suffering from the cold. The longer the sun stayed away, the colder it got, and often there was a keening wind that came up from the water and trespassed down each alley.


    The harbour town had grown to a full bustling city in the decade since he¡¯d first come here. Perhaps someday Nassau would be the same, then Kingston, then the villages on St. Kitts and Dog Island and all the others. Perhaps the Republic of Pirates would truly grow and expand exactly as the Pirate Kings planned. Or perhaps the firmament would kill the world before the Republic ever had a chance to grow.


    The end of the world did not deter throngs of people from moving through the streets of Port Royal. Lamplighters had their work cut out for them, constantly refilling the oil in every lantern multiple times a day. People lit torches outside their tents because, as John had heard it, thievery had begun to accelerate. Devious men worked better in the dark, and now they had darkness in abundance and it gave them every opportunity. John could certainly relate, for without the Long Night he doubted very much their ability to do what he and his crew were about to do.


    As he approached the Produce Market, John passed by Anne and Jenkins, who stood up from the bench near the caf¨¦ and walked towards the graveyard. They signaled him that they were ready. John also saw Isaacson leaned up against a post, and tipped his tricorne to signal Isaacson to move towards the church.


    John walked up the cobblestone steps of what had once been the attempts to make cobbled streets, but had partially sunk due to the last temblor and tidal wave. The market was open, for it was supposed to be morning and by God the people of Port Royal were determined to try and stay on a theoretical schedule.


    John slid into the seat of an outdoor tavern and ordered arrack and drank while casting glances down High Street.


    ¡°¡ªbeen asked to move all o¡¯ that dung down to those pits they¡¯re digging down by the Governor¡¯s Mansion,¡± a man was saying in the stool next to him. It was an old fellow, talking to the barkeep. ¡°Shovelin¡¯ shit now, that¡¯s me. And fer what? So¡¯s they can grow mushrooms? What kinda sense duzzat make? We¡¯re all done fer, anyways.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one,¡± said the barkeep, refilling the old fellow¡¯s rum. ¡°You know Davidson? Farmer up in Kingston with all the cattle brought over from the Netherlands? Well, they got a King¡¯s Order or some such on him, demanding all his pigs. All his pigs.¡±


    ¡°What the bloody hell?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I said. But I know a fella with the militia group that went to seize them pigs. He was here yesterday¡ªer¡­last night, this morning, whatever¡ªbut anyways he said the pigs are for sniffing out truffles.¡±


    The old fellow blanched. ¡°Truffles?¡±


    John was only half listening. He saw lots of movement on High Street, the normal crowds going about their business, some drunken louts firing pistols into the air before the militia showed up to disperse them. Then a carriage came rolling down, moving west to east. A carriage with bars on the back door and windows. Meant for carrying prisoners.


    ¡°¡ªaye, and what if that¡¯s all we¡¯ve got to eat soon? Fuckin¡¯ mushrooms! Christ, izzat our fate if the sun don¡¯t come back?¡± the old fellow was asking.


    The barkeep shrugged, and picked up a mug to clean. ¡°That¡¯s what my mate in the militia said. Said, ¡®If¡¯n the sun don¡¯t come back, Charlie, and stay put, everything will just keep dying off.¡¯ He said, the only thing that grows in darkness is mushrooms. Fungus and such. There¡¯s that mushroom farm on St. Lucia, you know? And they¡¯re talking about building others just like it. Saying the islands in the West Indies are nice and damp for oyster mushrooms and such.¡± He snorted. ¡°Imagine, all them fields of sugarcane and wheat becoming useless, and the Caribbean instead becomes a leading exporter o¡¯ mushrooms to the world.¡± The barkeep had a laugh at that. ¡°Imagine all them fields full of slaves suddenly having nothing to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± John said, suddenly interested. ¡°But what are you saying? A Royal Order has been issued¡­for pigs? And mushroom farms?


    The barkeep snorted. ¡°Aye, haven¡¯t you heard?¡±


    ¡°This is happening right now? Right now as a we speak?¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± the old fellow belched, and pushed himself away from the bar and tossed a reale to the barkeep. ¡°All the wealthy bastards¡¯re preparin¡¯ fer it. Digging trenches all ¡¯round their estates, filling them full o¡¯ manure, sendin¡¯ people out to St. Lucia to learn how those folk make the mushroom farms work. Apparently, the Caribbean may have a new gold mine.¡± The old fellow hiccupped and thumped his chest with his fist. ¡°It¡¯s all changin¡¯, my brothers. All of it. We be in the doldrums now, just waitin¡¯ to see which way the winds¡¯ll take us next.¡±


    John watched the old fellow walk away. Then he looked back at the barkeep. ¡°Is any of that true?¡±


    ¡°Far as I know, friend. It¡¯s all changing. Not enough days of sun, and with the cool streaks the plants can¡¯t figure out what time o¡¯ year it is. Haven¡¯t you noticed the trees in the forest dying?¡±


    John shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve been out to sea for a while.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, if there¡¯s not enough green, cattle can¡¯t eat. Cattle can¡¯t eat, cattle can¡¯t live. There¡¯s been fewer meats around. Fish was doing fine until a month ago, then the fishermen said they found bunches of ¡¯em just floating. Dead and rotting. Dead whales, too. And dolphins beaching themselves¡ªconfused about which way is land, maybe? Like the birds? I dunno.¡±


    ¡°But people can¡¯t live off mushrooms alone.¡±


    ¡°They can¡¯t,¡± said the barkeep. ¡°But pigs and rodents can eat almost anything. So, the plan is, people eat what truffles they can, and start feeding their livestock the same. Then, they can eat their livestock. Governor Hamilton is having a special pig farm built right here in Royal. The thinking is, folks¡¯ll have to pay the government for meat¡ªpay with mushrooms. Or else build their own such livestock racket.¡±


    ¡°Pay for meat with mushrooms? But what about coin? What about¡ª¡±


    ¡°What about the value of gold and silver and such, yes, that is the question. You want another?¡± He pointed at John¡¯s mug.


    ¡°No, thank you, friend.¡± John laid down his reales. He saw the carriage pull to a halt in front of Marshallsea Prison. ¡°I think I¡¯ve had enough for one day.¡±


    ¡°Sure you don¡¯t want one more? Looks like it¡¯s going to be another Long Night.¡±


    John watched men file out of the carriage and into the prison. He looked across the street to the Old Church. Saw all his people in position. Akil and Bogoa leaned against a post, pretending to talk. Roche sat on a bench with two men arguing. Those two men were Jenkins and one of Hazard¡¯s carpenters named Starr. Noala was crossing the street, her child strapped to her back, sleeping. LaCroix was at a fruit stand haggling over melons that had gone bad. Anne wasn¡¯t anywhere to be seen, but that usually meant she was in position. John looked at the cobbler¡¯s shop up the street, where Dobbs was ensconced in shadow. Four of the Africans stood talking to a constable¡ªtheir job for the moment was to keep any militia or law officials distracted.


    When he looked back at Marshallsea Prison¡¯s front gate, he saw the front door open. A dark man came shuffling out, hobbled in chains.


    John¡¯s heart beat faster, and then was squeezed.


    ¡°Did you hear what I said?¡± the barkeep called after him. ¡°Said it¡¯s going to be another Long Night.¡±


    John started across the street. ¡°They all are. Now.¡±


    ____


    It was cold. Benjamin thought it had never been so cold in all his years in the Caribbean. God be good, where is the sun? The horror of this new reality they had all recently accepted struck him anew. What is happening to the World? What has the Messenger and his Master wrought? Does he have a Master? Or Masters? Where is the sun? What hole did we fall into? And look at how we all just accept it. God, those three moons, and this air¡­The dampness that was always so omnipresent, and which usually made the air humid, now lent a frigidity to the world. And those stars¡­White spackles he no longer recognized, set against a red Milky Way-like structure that spanned the Long Night sky. Three moons of varying phases dominated the sky, their combined light making the lanterns along High Street redundant.


    ¡°Move,¡± a guard said.


    A carriage awaited him. Two horses would take him to Fort Carlisle, if what Munt said in his letter was true, and there he would be tried in secret and executed. Two horses to draw him to his doom. His father had warned him. Told him his African heritage would someday overtake his White heritage in the eyes of England and the World. Two horses to carry him towards his destiny.


    Benjamin looked at his shackled wrists. His hands weren¡¯t shaking anymore. In fact, his mind was still turning with the wonders of the firmament, and the eternal mystery of what had gone wrong with God¡¯s machinations that sundered reality so. Cold detachment. It removed him from the truth.


    The man stepping down from the carriage¡¯s bench held a torch, and he sifted through a large keyring to find the right key to unlock the door on the carriage¡¯s side, and opened it for Benjamin. Inside was a dark maw, and once he stepped through the rest of his story would be written as simply a date, the time of his execution, nothing else of significance to record. Benjamin Vhingfrith would exit history as quietly as he had entered it, his brief time on this Earth and on the plantation and learning to read by his father¡¯s side and learning his mother¡¯s African recipes and songs¡ªnone of it had amounted to anything. Not the love he had shared with John, not the battle to be seen as an equal with all other white businessmen, none of it. None of it would matter.


    I will simply vanish.


    Benjamin experienced what all men must, that while he had not been so vain as to suppose God would choose him above all men to live forever, having his life abrogated and tied off so unceremoniously was stark and horrifying¡ª


    Look to the graveyard.


    If not there, the Produce Market.


    And if not there, the Old Church.


    Benjamin had not allowed hope to steal his courage. The sight of the augmented Milky Way and the reminder of the Messenger¡¯s last words and the look of the carriage¡¯s dark inner maw was enough to have distracted him temporarily. He was glad of the distraction, because he did not want to hold out hope without good reason. But now, feeling himself pushed towards the carriage by the hands of his countrymen, he permitted himself to look around High Street.


    The messenger is not important.


    His senses were never more heightened than now. A horse passed in front of him, shitting as it went. The wind let him smell it. A pair of small girls held onto their mother¡¯s dress as she crossed the street with a basket of fruit in her hand. A group of drunken sailors held their bottles of rum high and sang ¡°Goodbye, Fare Thee Well¡± while one of them danced in a circle. Oh God, how many times have I heard the crew sing that song when the waters were choppy and the ship was wind-rode¡ª


    A form caught his eye. A man walking in a grey long coat. The swagger was unmistakable, though he wasn¡¯t accustomed to seeing it in man¡¯s clothing. The form moved at the intersection around the graveyard and the Old Church. A cluster of slaves being led by their masters blocked his view. Benjamin¡¯s eyes raked High Street to find the form again, and then caught sight of five or six men standing at the statue of the Virgin Mary. He thought he recognized one or two of them¡ª


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    I brought help, Munt¡¯s message had read.


    ¡°Go on, get in,¡± said one of the guards. A pair of militiamen walked up with muskets drawn, bayonets aimed at him. Benjamin started forward, the chains around his wrists and ankles chattering like imps drawing him into Hell.


    I brought help.


    Benjamin was pushed towards the black maw. His right foot touched the step. His eyes stayed fixed on the statue, then moved across the group of slaves¡­all of whom he now noticed were not in chains, and the white man leading them¡­he appeared awfully familiar.


    I brought help, Munt¡¯s message had read.


    Benjamin¡¯s mind turned, and rapidly caught on. He looked again for the dark form in the long coat. Couldn¡¯t find him.


    Oh, God. No. No, no, no. He¡¯s going to get himself¡ªNo! Not for me. No, God, please¡ª


    And yet hope filled his heart. For the briefest moment he felt as if anything might happen.


    But it will get John killed. There will be no surviving the full wrath of the King¡¯s Militia.


    ¡°Lads,¡± he said, and pushed back slightly against their urgent hands. Benjamin could not believe he was doing this, but he suddenly felt himself fastened by duty. And love. ¡°Lads, I have to tell you¡­put me back in the dungeon. I¡¯ll sit there peacefully and await the Court¡¯s ruling there. If it be my day, then execute me down there. Down there in my cell¡ª¡±


    ¡°I said get in!¡±


    A hand was on the back of his head, pushing him forward. But Benjamin had to stop them. Death of Englishmen on his account was unacceptable, as was the death of John Laurier. But he could not tell the guards John was here, no more than he could tell John to call this off. ¡°No, wait! Listen! Just leave me be! Leave me be down in the bloody¡ª¡±


    It felt like a sledgehammer hit him in his gut. He didn¡¯t know which guard hit him, but Benjamin collapsed to his knees, his lungs and guts feeling constricted by a great fist. Many fists hauled him to his feet roughly and shoved him up the ladder and into the carriage. They were laughing at him.


    Then unfamiliar rage overtook him, and he thought, Kill them, John. Kill them all.


    ____


    ¡°Cold,¡± said Bogoa, shivering.


    ¡°Mm.¡± Akil glanced west up High Street and saw that the others had adequately delayed a constable and a pair of militiamen. Mosi and Omari were in the guise of buccaneers, recently left ashore and looking for work. They feigned not understanding any English¡ªnot very hard for them¡ªand pawed at the constable and militiamen, beseeching them for work. The two militiamen were becoming visibly annoyed.


    Fifty-seven. Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine.


    ¡°Do you think¡ªthe sun shines¡ªback home, rafiki?¡± Bogoa wheezed, leaning against a post. The machete in his left hand was hidden behind his back. ¡°Do you think perhaps¡ªthese Long Nights¡ªare only a curse set upon the white men?¡±


    Akil kept counting. Sixty. Sixty-one. Sixty-two.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Akil¡¯s eyes ranged across the street, to where Laurier had been standing. Where did he go?


    Sixty-three. Sixty-four. Sixty-five.


    ¡°If we¡ªpool our shares¡ªof the treasure, we have¡ªenough to buy¡ªour own boat,¡± Bogoa went on, slurring most of his words.


    ¡°Who told you that?¡±


    ¡°I worked it out¡ªon my own.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t count above ten.¡±


    ¡°And I counted¡ªmany tens¡ªof coins¡ªin our share.¡±


    Akil looked back at him. Korbu and Yaman stood behind Bogoa, ensconced in the alley¡¯s deep shadow. ¡°Do any of you know how to navigate? How to pilot?¡± he asked. Seventy-one. Seventy-two. Seventh-three. ¡°I thought so. And none of us knows how to navigate during the Long Night when even the whites don¡¯t yet have a system for it. So tell me, how do we reach Africa from here? Do any of you know? Which way is it? Point and show me.¡±


    They all remained silent, until Bogoa wheezed, ¡°With spare coins¡ªwe can buy navigators¡ªand pilots to take us there.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s discuss this later.¡± Seventy-eight. Seventy-nine. Eighty. Eighty-one.


    ¡°We should discuss it¡ªnow. Before we¡ªthrow our lives away for¡ª¡±


    ¡°Eighty-two.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Akil had counted the people in the street. Not only that, but he¡¯d mentally grouped them together, clocked their apparent trajectories and intended destinations¡ªthe fruit stands, the Court House, the brothel down the street¡ªhe could guess where each person or group was heading the same way he¡¯d gotten to sense the change in winds at sea before it actually happened. ¡°Eighty-two people.¡± Akil pointed to the carriage, in which Vhingfrith had just been abused and tossed. The driver flicked the reins and it started forward. ¡°As it comes, they will part like the sea before the cut-water,¡± he said.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The people. They will part around the wagon. We should be on either side of the crowd.¡± The plan just sprang to mind, but he instantly believed in it and knew the Ladyman would approve and follow his lead. They were not close friends, he and Laurier, but there was some kind of rigid respect that formed during the planning stages of the attack on Raymond Smith¡¯s plantation, the many arguments and refinements on the plan to attack Bateria de la Lanza, and trust had formed in the battle to escape. ¡°Yaman, Korbu, go to the left of the carriage. Yaman, lean on Korbu like you¡¯re injured or drunk. Bogoa, join me on the right. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    They obeyed wordlessly. As the carriage approached the Produce Market, the four Africans merged with the crowd on the street. Akil blended in, looking over at Bogoa and speaking nonsense in their own language while laughing like they shared a joke. When the crowd parted for the carriage, they went right, pretending not to care.


    Akil then gave a loud bird call. The green pigeon of his homeland, one of the first bird calls his father ever taught him, and a distinct sound Noala knew to listen for. It meant Akil¡¯s team had found a suitable position.


    They were ready.


    Two prison guards lounging on top of the carriage with their rifles in their laps heard the strange bird call, and now looked around for a moment in puzzlement. Three militiamen riding behind on horses came around the front to see what was the commotion. Akil, Bogoa, Yaman, and Korbu came in behind them.


    Then, from the graveyard, Noala went running, clutching her baby as Jenkins and Isaacson came chasing after her, laughing and picking up horse dung from the street and flinging it at her. Noala cursed them, Isaacson pulled out his prick to wiggle it at her, and Jenkins blocked her path as she tried to run. A few people along the street laughed. A woman gasped and covered her son¡¯s eyes as she ushered him away.


    The carriage slowed down and the driver shouted at them to move. Somewhere on High Street someone fired a pistol into the air. Perfectly normal for Port Royal. The driver shouted at Isaacson and Jenkins to leave the Negro woman alone or else take their game someplace else. Akil saw one of the guards sitting atop the carriage slump, then slide off. Distantly, there came the report of a rifle. No one noticed the dead man fall, because someone else fired elsewhere along High Street, to help mask Dobbs¡¯s shot, and people were still laughing at Isaacson¡¯s and Jenkins¡¯s play.


    Noala¡¯s baby started to cry, and she played it up, dropping to her knees and weeping until the constable Omari and Mosi had been distracting came running over to drag Noala out of the street. The constable chastised Isaacson and Jenkins.


    It all happened so fast, and by the time the second guard on the carriage roof realized his partner was in trouble, Dobbs¡¯s second shot ripped through his throat. Both guards fell into the mud. One of the militiaman saw the movement in the dark, spun his horse around, and pulled out a sword. ¡°Hey!¡± he cried. And then Korbu grabbed him off his horse and dragged him down into the mud, where Yaman put his hatchet in the white man¡¯s skull.


    The militiamen shouted in alarm. One drew his pistol. But he didn¡¯t know he was surrounded. Akil was already behind him, machete drawn, and he hacked at the horse¡¯s hind legs and it fell over, the militiaman¡¯s shot going wild. Bogoa leapt on him with machete and ripped the white man¡¯s throat open.


    Screams all over High Street.


    ¡°Murder!¡± someone cried. ¡°Murderous Negroes!¡±


    The other Africans who had been walking in chains, pretending to be slaves following Jaime, now pulled knives and leapt into the fray.


    Akil ran for the carriage, but the driver snapped the reins and the horses wasted no time. Someone fired a shot through the crowd and Akil heard it go past his ear and he threw himself behind a stack of boxes outside the brothel. Peeking around the side, he saw the constable standing in the street, tossing his spent pistol to the ground and drawing a club.


    The final militiaman turned his horse round and round in circles, unsure of the treachery, aiming his pistol at a panicking throng of people. Bogoa, Korbu, and the other Africans all grabbed the final militiaman off his horse and wrestled him to the ground and hacked him to pieces. Akil watched the carriage tear away down the street. He thought about grabbing the first militiaman¡¯s horse but he didn¡¯t know how to ride. Then, in a blur of motion, a dark shape ran out from the Old Church and leapt atop the horse. It was the Brazilian, and he was in pursuit.


    ____


    Roche Brasiliano kicked his heels into the horse¡¯s side. He heard the beast¡¯s confused, panicked breathing, obeying a new master that had leapt into its saddle. He grunted in time along with it, coming alongside the carriage¡¯s driver. As he raced past the carriage door he saw a pair of black hands grab hold of the bars. Captain Vhingfrith looked out at Roche, cat¡¯s-eye glittering in the triple moonlight. Roche laughed as he stood up in the saddle, pressing his feet into the stirrups. All around him people screamed, unclear about the purpose of the all the violence. A one-legged sailor didn¡¯t get out of the way of the carriage in time and was trampled beneath the horses¡¯ hooves and the wheels smashed into the dead man and the carriage jumped, just as Roche leapt over.


    And as soon as his hands grabbed hold of the carriage¡¯s roof, that¡¯s when the sky decided to let loose a volley. The rain began suddenly, clouds congealing fast and swirling around the moons with impossible speed. Roche clung to the carriage¡¯s side, putting a foot in between the bars of the door, and looking up into the unnatural storm and laughing.


    Someone shot him. A bullet entered his back and exited his side. He climbed up to the roof, still laughing, and weeping, and yelling. A storm of emotions moved through Roche at almost all times, sadness and happiness were the same thing, as were joy and rage. Kneeling, he reached behind and pulled one of the axes from his belt loop. The rain and the moonlights drew an ominous figure standing up from the driver¡¯s seat. Another guard, a rifle in his hands. Roche lunged and batted it away, the bullet went somewhere in the night. He collided with the guard, still laughing, still crying.


    The guard tried using his rifle as a shield against the Brazilian but he was too slender, too slight to deal with Roche¡¯s strength, and they fought awkwardly in the seat beside the driver until Roche hauled off with his axe and struck low. The first chop smashed the guard¡¯s knee, but Roche respected him because he did not buckle. The second chop embedded the blade in his thigh, and this time the guard fell off the carriage and grabbed hold of Roche¡¯s collar on the way down and dragged them both off the carriage and into the mud.


    As the carriage raced on without him, Roche laughed, and cried, as he stood over the guard and chopped his neck until the head came off. Then he held the head up high just as lightning struck, and when he spotted the Behemoth rising up from the docks, up from the sea, shedding parts of his robe made of human flesh, Roche fell to his knees, clutching his side and laughing.


    And crying.


    ____


    Dobbs took another shot at the driver. The bullet appeared to rip his shoulder but the driver, goddamn him, never let go of the reins and the carriage went roaring past the cobbler¡¯s shop where Dobbs still sat on the roof. He tossed his spent rifle next to the others and left them there, jerking out his pistol and running to the edge of the roof and leaping to the neighbouring one. The rain made it slippery, difficult to see, difficult to hear. He stumbled when he landed and ran over a thatched roof, then leapt onto the scaffolding surrounding a livery before jumping down onto the wooden roof of a scribe¡¯s office and darting across a row of more uneven rooftops.


    A whistle had gone up. And now an alarm bell.


    ¡°Up there!¡± someone shouted. ¡°There! The shooter is there!¡±


    Dobbs didn¡¯t have to look for the source. He finally came to a gap too wide to jump, bit down on the rope hanging from his pistol¡¯s handle, and used both hands to lower himself over the ledge and dropped into a puddle beside a sailor fucking his whore. He went through the zigzagging alleyways, climbed over a wooden fence, then a stone wall, got caught in a clothesline like a fly in a spider¡¯s web and fought to get free. A pair of Africans he didn¡¯t recognize were up ahead, dancing in the rain with a naked paike. When one of them saw him rushing them, they mistook him for an ambusher and drew their pistols and fired just as he ducked for cover behind a seamstress¡¯s shop. Then a militiaman appeared and mistook them for assassins, and fired upon them.


    Bent lightning lit up the night, revealing to him Abner Crane standing at the mouth of the alley, coated in seaweed. Dobbs gasped, froze, and aimed his pistol. The thunder was deafening and Abner¡¯s words were lost in the cacophony of bells and whistles and shouting. In the blink of an eye, the lightning was gone, and so was Abner.


    Dobbs stood a moment, panting. Then he ran forward, inspected the area where he¡¯d seen the old quartermaster, and found footprints in the mud, precisely where Abner had been standing.


    ¡°Almighty God,¡± he whispered. ¡°Where¡¯ve you gone?¡±


    ¡°You there!¡± said a black-coated man emerging from the alley behind him.


    Dobbs turned. Saw the man¡¯s face. His hat. His manicured beard. The club in his hand. His instincts told him to do it, and so he fired into the constable¡¯s face. The constable dropped dead there in the mud. The smoke filled Dobbs¡¯s nostrils and he staggered backward. It was the first time he had never killed a man of the Law.


    ¡°Oh, son,¡± said Abner. Dobbs looked around but couldn¡¯t see him. ¡°What have you done? There¡¯s no going back now. No. No going back.¡±


    ¡°God in heaven¡­¡± Dobbs whispered it again and again as he backed away from the corpse he¡¯d made, and dropped the pistol and pulled out another one and ran in a direction. He didn¡¯t know to where. Eventually he emerged onto Queen Street and was nearly knocked over when a panicking mob ran screaming into him. An old fellow bounced off him and fell spiraling to the rutted street and looked towards the docks like God had forsaken him.


    And when Dobbs looked to the docks, he understood the man¡¯s terror. The Behemoth was here, upon the shore, looking just as it had half a year ago, three colossal and malformed legs, reverse-jointed like a dog¡¯s, each one coated in the writing bodies of humans that had been skinned alive.


    And the people, they ran for their lives. Some of them, God bless them, they scooped up lost children or old women that had been knocked over. But most of them stepped over the fallen and never looked back. The Behemoth towered above them, its head reaching the gibbous moon as it swayed like doom, each thundering footstep causing tremors that Dobbs felt in his chest. Horses ran like headless chickens, every which way without regard for other life. A hot breath¡ªand he knew it was breath, and not just wind¡ªblew through the streets and stank of decay and ammonia and old moss.


    ¡°Dobbs!¡± someone shouted. He turned and pointed his pistol into the crowd. He saw Isaacson coming towards him. Limping. Smiling. So happy to see a friendly face. Laurier¡¯s words suddenly returned to him: You have my permission to kill him. The time and place may be of your choosing. ¡°Dobbs, my boy! Come on, we have to get to the ship¡ª¡±


    The memory assailed him. Isaacson huddled over him in darkness in the forecastle, one hand clamped over his mouth, the other reaching into his pants and groping.


    ¡°Come on, lad!¡± Isaacson grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him up the street. ¡°Come on, the others¡¯ll be waiting for us there!¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Dobbs said, joining him. ¡°Yes. We have to¡­get back to the ship.¡±


    ____


    The carriage roared down the street but it had to slow down to make the turn away from Queen Street. Anne Bonny ran parallel to it from the alleys, never losing sight of it for long. The Behemoth rose above everything, every building and hill, but it was moving slowly and she had a job she had sworn to do. She never let the carriage get too far. She was now close enough to see the driver slumped on his bench, clutching where Dobbs had nicked him.


    She knew Port Royal well enough. If the driver wanted certain help, then he would carry on to his intended destination. To get to Fort Carlisle, you had to go all the way around the Produce Market. No other way to reach it.


    Long ago, Anne had sworn to her man Jack Rackham that she would never come ashore without him. It was a dream of his, that if she ever did, she wouldn¡¯t ever leave. But Captain Laurier said this needed doing and the others had voted on it and agreed to come. And let¡¯s be honest, Anne, she told herself, you were starting to believe all that stuff was horseshit. It had been easy to dismiss it all. Until she saw the Behemoth rising higher.


    Now all dreams and nightmares seemed possible.


    But the carriage was within reach, and she had given her word. So when the carriage rounded the north end of the Produce Market and she saw her chance, Anne tore out from the alley and ran up behind the carriage and jumped. Her fingertips just barely touched the back handles and her legs dragged in the street until she could pull herself up onto the back step. She climbed up onto the roof, the rain blinding her with great gobs, and she half slid and half crawled over the roof. She reached for the pistol at her side. Realized it had come out of its holster somewhere. Reached for the one tucked in her waistline and jerked it out and pressed it to the back of the driver¡¯s head and fired.


    The head snapped forward and the body sagged and fell against the horses and was trampled.


    Anne climbed into the seat, clambered around in the darkness and the wind and the wet for the reins. A bolt of lightning showed Fort Carlisle ahead. People who hadn¡¯t yet seen the Behemoth were holding jackets over their heads and running home, running towards their apartments and hovels on Lime Street. They thought the worst thing right now was the sudden storm.


    Anne heard Abner Crane¡¯s voice in her ears, ¡°You¡¯re about to witness all I have, Anne Bonny. And it ain¡¯t pretty. Sweet Jesus, girl, it ain¡¯t pretty at all.¡±


    She straightened herself in the bench. Finally found the reins. Ignored Abner¡¯s voice. Pulled the carriage to a stop. Panting, shivering in the freezing rain, she looked up and down the street and saw all the ghosts.


    ¡°God Almighty, Jack. Good God in bloody fuckin¡¯ heaven.¡±


    They filled the streets like mourners, come to give a fare-thee-well to a dead king. Sixty or more. They looked at her, and at each other, as though something had woken them all in the night. They wore shabby clothes and were untouched by the rain. Their faces were pale and glowed faintly in the moonlights. Anne somehow knew it was the moonlights that did that. But the glow faded the farther down from their heads it went, until their feet were nearly transparent. They were half corporeal, half incorporeal, sort of floating over the ground yet also trudging their feet through the mud.


    Anne¡¯s guts were twisted. To her, it did not look like any of them understood how they¡¯d gotten here. They appeared lost, confused. When the first one, a small girl, started walking into the street, the others watched Anne. As if learning from her, they started walking towards the carriage.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± someone said. It was Vhingfrith, hollering from the back of the carriage.


    Anne backed away from the crowd of spectres, pointing her spent pistol at them. ¡°I¡¯m your driver now, Captain Vhingfrith.¡±


    ¡°Anne? You see them, too?¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± she croaked. ¡°I see them.¡±


    ¡°What do you think we should do?¡±


    ¡°Seeing as how you¡¯re the one¡¯s locked up, only thing that matters right now is what I do.¡±


    ¡°Fair point. What are you going to do?¡±


    The spectres kept shambling towards the carriage. Their eyes shimmered green, and Anne thought she had never seen such a shade of green. She felt something moving through her. Heard voices all around, almost conversational, none of them quite human. The horses stirred and whinnied and tried to back up¡ª


    ¡°If you¡¯re looking for suggestions, I think we turn around and run. Now.¡±


    ¡°You hear that?¡± she called back.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°What are they doing?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one knows all about the bloody firmament!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m no expert, but if they¡¯re anything like the Messenger I encountered, you don¡¯t want to be hearing their voices. Not up close.¡±


    ¡°Messenger?¡±


    ¡°Anne, get us out of here!¡±


    The voices pressed on her heart, her chest, her loins and guts and joints, and she thought she might¡¯ve wet herself. Hard to tell in all this damn rain. The rain¡­it still doesn¡¯t touch them. ¡°Do¡­do you think they know where Jack is? What happened to him?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Bloody Jack Rackham! Is he in here somewhere¡ª¡±


    ¡°Anne, if you¡¯re feeling what I¡¯m feeling, you must resist it. I don¡¯t know what force this is, but it wants us fixated on it! Anne, on your life, do not let us just sit here¡ª¡±


    A cold hand touched her. She looked to her left and gasped. She hadn¡¯t seen the woman¡¯s ghost approaching from there. A fat woman, with a kind smile and plaintive eyes. She made Anne feel loved. Nothing could have horrified her more, and she snapped the reins and the horses were only too glad to surge forth and tear through the ghosts, which, to Anne¡¯s shock, dissipated like chalk dust blown to the wind, swirling and gathering around her. She breathed some of it in and coughed because it tasted like copper and rancid water. She heard Vhingfrith coughing, too.


    Anne directed the horses into an alley that led through the middle of the Produce Market and away from Fort Carlisle. Now she was pointed south, towards the tall rooftops, towards the rising black shape of the Behemoth. She stared at it, and wondered, Is this what you saw, Jack? It is, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯m not leaving here alive.


    ¡°You did well, Anne! You did very well!¡±


    Ahead in the rain, a man stepped out from the cover of a shop stall. He aimed his rifle and fired, hitting one of the horses and the beast went down and the other horse jerked sideways when it tripped over the first. The carriage slewed sideways, its rear end smashing through stalls that had been abandoned in the tumult and one of its wheels got lodged on something and brought the carriage to an almost complete halt, flinging Anne from the driver¡¯s seat. When she hit the cobblestones, she did so headfirst, feeling her brain crash against her inner skull. She rolled past the feet of a spectre, a little boy who saw her take her spill and covered his mouth with his hands to try and stifle his laughter.


    The world spun. She blacked out a moment, then woke up.


    The downpour had intensified. She was lying in a deep puddle.


    Anne tried to stand. But a rifle stock hit her in the chin and knocked out a tooth. She went down tasting her own blood and the ghost-dust. Lying on her back, in the stinking offal, she gazed up at the moons, around which the storm clouds circled like giant whirlpools. Something was flying down from them, eel-like but with many sets of wings. They flew towards the Behemoth and Anne never saw them again.


    The world went blurry. She felt like sleeping. When she closed her eyes, the spectral boy was still tittering to himself.

 Chapter 42: Yo-ho!

    athwartships ¨C At a right angle to the midline or centerline of the ship¡ªan imaginary line drawn from bow to stern that equally divides the ship.


    FROM OKOA¡¯S PERSPECTIVE aboard the Hazard, coming around the bend to face the Turtle Crawles, he saw only the lumbering form the Ladyman had described to him months back. The Behemoth. He and every other man and woman aboard the ship stood a moment on the swaying deck and took it all in. Perhaps because most of them had already seen it, they laughed and whistled and even sang a chanty about it that they¡¯d been working on. Sailors could be like that, Okoa mused, for they already believed in krakens and sirens and all sorts of strange things things, so their superstitions had perhaps prepared them (somewhat) to accept a colossal demon on Earth. Seeing his first Leviathan only convinced Okoa further that he would never question the Ladyman¡¯s accounts again.


    It was indeed the largest, most frightening monstrosity he had ever seen. Not even his nightmares had conjured anything like it. Tendrils came down from the clouds and joined with the Behemoth, attaching themselves to it, and those tendrils looked like the black strings of a devil¡¯s marionette.


    A dark puppet, raised from hell, a toy of the Dark One.


    His first thought wasn¡¯t to pray¡ªCaptain Laurier forbade that on his boat¡ªbut there was no mistaking that they were witnessing something earth-shattering, world-changing, and Okoa had at least the wits to know he should have reverence for it. A god rose from the sea and walked ashore, crashing through the North Docks and moving inland on deformed tripod legs. The upheaval it created caused the ships at dock to sway and tip and crash into one another.


    But Okoa saw his target amongst them. The Lively was anchored on the second-longest pier, bobbing up and down like a top.


    ¡°Orders, Mr. Okoa?¡± Irwin called above the wind. The fellow they had picked up in Nassau was indeed a good pilot, if a little inexperienced in storms.


    ¡°Get us closer, Mr. Irwin,¡± he replied.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±


    ¡°Certain.¡± He grabbed hold of the railing and limped down the stairs on the wooden leg he¡¯d purchased while in Nassau. But while he was no longer hopping, the wooden leg still made uncertain footing on a heeling ship. He alternately grabbed netting and railing, depending on which way Hazard tipped, and water ran over the deck, almost up to his stump, and washed overboard through the scuppers with a soft sigh. ¡°Mr. Adetomb¨¦!¡± he called to the fifteen-year-old former slave. ¡°My dear boy!¡± He clapped the nervous youth on his shoulder. ¡°Are we ready?¡±


    The boy was all wiry muscle, covered in scars from the cat-o¡¯-nine-tails. ¡°Aye, Mr. Okoa.¡± He¡¯d learned English well while serving Raymond Smith.


    ¡°Good! Then let us use this momentum! The Behemoth returns, boys!¡± he called to all of them. He said it almost as if it was a good thing. ¡°The Behemoth helped the Ladyman and his people when last we were here, and I think it¡¯s come back to help us again!¡±


    Almost all the crew left aboard the Hazard were Africans, and some of them still had not gotten used to storms. Some vomited over the rail while others hung comfortably in the ratlines above. All of them gawked at the Behemoth. ¡°Do not be afraid! You see every time the captain stands his ground against the English of Port Royal, the Behemoth comes to lend him a hand! This is not a curse, it is a good omen!¡± He used a mixture of English and African words to make himself understood. ¡°Courage, my boys! Mr. Orombo, help reel in the stuns¡¯ls! We¡¯re going for the Lively! Uri, Ad¨¦, Koko, to the capstan bars! Handsomely now!¡±


    Some moved nervously, others moved lively.


    Okoa half stumbled over to the portside railing and hung on tight while he gazed at the ships swaying by the docks. The Behemoth was all the way out of the water now and onto the shore, walking the streets of Port Royal. The water was settling, the ships weren¡¯t crashing into each other as much. And the clouds had left gaps around the three moons, swirling around them like water down a drain, allowing their light to shine down, giving Okoa a clear view of the sea and the North Docks.


    Okoa took one more look back at the Behemoth and shook his head in bemusement. How many decades had it been since he was taken from his mother? He still recalled the story she told of the giants that lived in the sea, and sometimes came to shore to feed.


    Mother, I was stolen from you, and we were robbed of each other¡¯s presence and love. But, oh, what things your child has seen, Mother. What things he has seen.


    ¡°Ship to larboard!¡± one of the linemen called above the wind. ¡°Fifth-rate! Big bitch, her!¡±


    Okoa swung to port. Aye, he¡¯d seen the fifth-rate yonder. A big bitch, indeed. A two-decker with a long prow. Her escutcheon had her name: the Edinburgh. Warship, Scottish make, Okoa had been sailing long enough to know by the size and breadth of her sails, and the number of her gunports. ¡°I see her!¡± He called over to Irwin, ¡°Keep an eye on her, helmsman!¡±


    ¡°Aye, Quartermaster!¡±


    Okoa gave the warship one last look. He saw almost no one on deck. The ship looked frankly dead. His gaze was drawn more to the Behemoth, and soon they had sailed around the Edinburgh and he forgot all about her.


    ____


    Vhingfrith felt around his head. Blood. It was dark inside the carriage, but his cat¡¯s-eye allowed him to orient himself a bit. He¡¯d been flung around the room when the carriage wrecked. Rain was coming in from the window, which he realized belatedly was somewhat above him. He reached up for the bars. That¡¯s when he realized, also belatedly, that the carriage was almost on its side, like it was leaning against something. The manacles around his wrists and ankles had been latched to a chain on the floor, so he couldn¡¯t do more than reach the bars, he couldn¡¯t stick his head to the bars to see out.


    ¡°Anne? Anne!¡±


    When no reply came, Vhingfrith looked around the carriage for anything that might help him out of this predicament, knowing full-well there was nothing. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead.


    ¡°Anne!¡± he shouted again.


    ¡°Easy in there, Captain,¡± someone laughed. A man. Enjoying himself. ¡°Your lady friend¡¯s doing just fine. And you¡¯re safe and sound, where you need to be.¡±


    ¡°Anne, are you all right?¡± Vhingfrith called out. He didn¡¯t believe them.


    ¡°She¡¯s doing just¡ª¡±


    ¡°Christ!¡± someone else shouted. Another man.


    ¡°What are you¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Look behind you!¡±


    A brief pause.


    The first man said, ¡°God Almighty, grant us mercy¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on out there?¡± Vhingfrith shouted. Another trickle of blood went into his eye and he wiped it away. ¡°What is happening?¡±


    ¡°God Almighty¡­God Almighty¡­¡± the man outside kept saying.


    Vhingfrith tried to get a good look through the bars but suddenly the carriage dropped from whatever obstacle it had been half propped on and landed back on its right-side wheels. He fell to his knees. Stood up.


    The window was facing the wall of a shop. He heard more raised voices outside. Some shouting. Sounded like a mob of people screaming. Vhingfrith searched the carriage in panic. That¡¯s when his cat¡¯s-eye landed on something. A wooden board in the floor had split. The hook that was bolted to the floor, the same hook his chains had been fastened to, was right about on that split. Must¡¯ve gotten damaged when we crashed. Frame probably came loose underneath. He tried tugging his chains a few times, and saw that the plank came up a little.


    Not daring to taste hope yet, Vhingfrith grabbed up the slack from his chains and stood over the split plank, and gave it a harder tug. It barely budged. He yanked harder, again and again. Outside he heard more screaming. A shot fired in the air. And, unless he was mistaken, he sensed a temblor. An earthquake? The carriage vibrated just a little and he felt it through his bare feet. Tidal wave? Is that what that screaming is about? Everybody running away from the shore¡ª


    On his next tug, the plank split some more and rose from the floor half an inch.


    ¡°God in heaven, please be good today,¡± Vhingfrith breathed, and pulled again. And again the plank rose another inch.


    Keys rattled in the lock outside, and the door swung open and Vhingfrith felt his stomach sink when facing the business end of a musket. It was a militiaman, standing in the rain, his lower half soaked in mud like he had fallen. Behind him was another militiaman doing something strange; his back was turned to his friend, and he was looking up at the sky, saying over and over again, ¡°God Almighty¡­God Almighty¡­¡±


    ¡°Step out, Captain,¡± said the militiaman with the rifle.


    ¡°Sorry to say, gentlemen, but I am currently indisposed. As you can see.¡± He held up his chains.


    The rifleman glared at him. Looked up at the sky. Back at Vhingfrith. Tossed him a set of keys. ¡°Undo y¡¯self. Then step out. Very slowly.¡±


    The keys hit the floor and slid towards Vhingfrith, who stopped them with his foot and said, ¡°Which one?¡±


    ¡°The big one.¡±


    It took a moment, the key did not turn intuitively, which Vhingfrith assumed was the point. While he worked on his ankles, he called out, ¡°Anne? You all right?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s just fine, Captain. Stop wasting¡ªCarlson! For God¡¯s sakes, we still got a job to do! Get your weapon and watch this prisoner!¡±


    ¡°God Almighty, what is it, Nelson? What is it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Nelson said, his eyes and weapon still trained on Vhingfrith. And his eyes said he was afraid.


    But this man is a man of duty, Vhingfrith thought. He¡¯ll not shirk it. Indeed, whatever it is that has Carlson aflutter, Nelson seems bound and determined to refuse it¡¯s happening.


    Vhingfrith knew he couldn¡¯t make a move with this man¡¯s weapon trained. So, once the final manacle was removed, Vhingfrith stood up, hands up, and approached the doorway slowly.


    ¡°That¡¯s it. Nice and slow like, Captain,¡± said Nelson. ¡°Nice and¡ªabout time!¡± he called over his shoulder. Just as Vhingfrith stepped down the ladder and into the rain, he turned and saw four militiamen approaching on horseback. Vhingfrith looked around for Anne, and found her still body lying in the street, turned on her side, her face half in a puddle and covered in blood.


    The horsemen pulled to a stop and two of them swung off their horses and ran splashing through the mud with pistols out. ¡°We blew the whistle five minutes ago! Where the bloody hell¡¯ve¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Nelson, shut it!¡± a blond-bearded man bellowed above the rain. ¡°Get you to the fort! All haste! Now! Our orders are to spread the word! We are evacuating Port Royal and moving the governor to Kingston¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why in bloody hell would we do that?¡±


    ¡°Why do you think?!¡± the bearded man cried, and pointed south.


    That¡¯s when Vhingfrith swung his gaze south and finally saw it. And felt it. The muddy ground beneath him didn¡¯t just tremble, it seemed to shift like when he stood barefoot in the tide and felt it recede, taking much of the sand around his feet with it. And he felt himself sink an inch or two. At the same time, he saw the monstrosity towering over the rooftops of the market, and his cat¡¯s-eye allowed him to see such detail that Vhingfrith gasped, staggered backward in disorientation, and collapsed to one knee, barely stopping himself from falling on his arse.


    ¡°God in heaven,¡± he breathed. ¡°It¡¯s the Master.¡±


    The shape of the creature made no sense to him. It only vaguely resembled a man-ish build, but its body was made of the interwoven sinew that split apart from the fleshless bodies that made its frayed, hanging moss-like exterior. It stood forty or fifty feet tall, swaying with each step, like it was uncertain of its balance, and occasionally it bowed low enough that it vanished behind the rooftops before emerging again.


    The messenger is not important.


    So is this the Master? Must be. What else is it?


    Vhingfrith tried to stand. That¡¯s when he heard creaking wood, and looked back through the doorway of the carriage, to where he saw Toby. To say fear skewered his heart would be an understatement. Vhingfrith was looking at the slave boy hanging from a rope inside the carriage, his feet somehow passing through the floor. Toby¡¯s body swung almost imperceptibly, his eyes as fixed on Vhingfrith as they had been decades ago.


    His father taught him long ago to master his fears and face them head-on, as he had done not half an hour ago in the dungeon when he formally met the Messenger. Benjamin gritted his teeth, willed himself to his feet, and stared at the spectral agent. ¡°I see you,¡± he said. ¡°I see you. You have no power over me. Torment me as you please, if it will make you feel better. But know that I see you. Tell your Master and whoever else commands you all, or leads you, or feeds you. Tell them I see the firmament for what it is. You¡¯re an accident. You¡¯re all God¡¯s accident, just like we are. But, by God, I shall undo you. I swear it. On my honour, I swear I¡¯ll undo you all.¡±


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Toby¡¯s head cocked sideways. A needle of ice went through Vhingfrith¡¯s heart, but when he blinked again, the spectre was gone and he¡¯d sunk another inch into the mud upon the monster¡¯s next step.


    Nelson and the other militiamen had been arguing amongst themselves about what all was going on and what needed to be done, but now they stopped and looked at Vhingfrith. ¡°Who is he talking to?¡± the bearded man shouted. ¡°Is someone else in there?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no one else,¡± said Nelson, who walked over and grabbed Benjamin by his arm and yanked him away. ¡°He¡¯s coming with us.¡±


    ¡°No room for prisoners!¡± said the bearded man. ¡°Cut him loose and get to one of the boats on¡ª¡±


    ¡°Cut him loose?¡± Nelson bellowed incredulously.


    ¡°God Almighty¡­¡± Carlson was still saying. His gaze was stuck on the monster. ¡°God Almighty, be merciful¡­¡±


    ¡°You heard what I said,¡± said the bearded officer. ¡°Let the Devil¡¯s Son go. We don¡¯t have room for¡ª¡±


    ¡°Woodes Rogers had him brought in on suspicion o¡¯ having something to do with all this firmament business,¡± Nelson argued. ¡°Consorting with devils and whatnot! And the Admiralty was probably going to hang him later tonight! So this bastard comes with us.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not arguing with you! We¡¯re clearing out of here and we¡¯ve not got room¡ª¡± The bullet that tore through the bearded man¡¯s head did so at the same time Benjamin heard the crack of the pistol.


    Many things happened at once. Nelson released his grip on Vhingfrith, who lunged behind the carriage for cover. The militiamen still on their horses turned about and aimed pistols wildly. Pistols barked and their smoke plumed out into the streets and filled the air. The militiamen on foot fired once into darkness before drawing their sabres. Four or five horses rushed in from another alley and atop one of them was John Laurier.


    ____


    John held onto the reins one-handed, jerked a pistol from his brace and fired, missing one of the horsemen, dropped the pistol and pulled another, fired, and nicked his target, sending the militiaman from his saddle. A round whizzed by John¡¯s head a second before he heeled the horse to a gallop and aimed it at the final horseman and leapt off, hitting the mud hard and rolling and sliding. Beside him, Jenkins, Jaime, and LaCroix charged through the group ahorse.


    The militiamen all fired. One round hit LaCroix¡¯s horse and sent both of them to the ground.


    Jenkins and Jaime trampled two foes.


    John felt something in his shoulder crack as he stood up, and, with his Corrupted hand, drew his cutlass, and threw himself into the fray. The Corrupted hand wove god-like through the enemies, moving in ways it ought not have been able. Inhuman ways. It was fleshless and had no sensation and yet it obeyed his commands. John parried the first sabre with lightning speed and slashed his enemy¡¯s throat before push-stepping forward, splashing through mud and around Anne¡¯s body until his foot hugged the foot of another enemy. He shin-pressed the other¡¯s leg and reaped his foot to off-balance him and parried away his blade before thrusting into the femoral artery and shoulder-checking him and knocking him to the ground.


    It was a maelstrom of limbs and nervous slashes and unsure thrusts and angry screaming. Riderless horses galloped in circles and reared up, kicking wildly. Men slammed up against one another, sometimes slashing or punching their friends until lightning revealed their true foes. Jenkins rode by a militiaman and slashed open his face and the militiaman turned and ran, holding the fleshy slab of his cheek. John pulled LaCroix up from the ground before he was trampled by a horse. One of the militiamen grabbed Jaime¡¯s leg as he rode by and pulled him off his horse and started kicking him. A blade jabbed John in the hip but bounced off the bone and he screamed and spun and performed a gissard to slice the offender¡¯s hand and disarmed him. A militiaman slipped and fell, grabbed fistfuls of LaCroix¡¯s pants and climbed up the Frenchman and started strangling him up against the carriage until Benjamin appeared and pulled the militiaman away, giving LaCroix a moment to pull out his dagger and put it in his enemy¡¯s gut. One of the militiamen locked blades with John, parried it tip-down to the ground. On instinct John let his sword go and used the talons of his Corrupted hand to rake the man¡¯s face. Instead, he skewered both of the man¡¯s eyes, on forefinger and ring finger, and plucked them out of his skull before he knew what he was doing. The man fell backward screaming and clutching his face before Jaime knifed him.


    It was a milling mass of desperate bodies, all flailing about for less than a minute before it was done. And when it was, they stood there panting while the Behemoth¡¯s foot planted onto a house the next street over and leveled it.


    ¡°Everyone all right?¡± John called. ¡°Jaime?¡±


    ¡°Gah! I¡¯m all right!¡± the Scotsman called out, leaning against a wall and holding his ribs. ¡°The fucker didna break much, Captain.¡± His wincing face made it look a lot worse, but John let it go.


    He turned and looked at LaCroix and Jenkins. And then at Benjamin, who was on his knees beside Anne. John sheathed his sword and said to his men, ¡°Grab their pistols. Them that haven¡¯t been fired yet. Make sure they didn¡¯t get wet enough to misfire.¡± He checked his hip. Still bleeding. Then he walked over to Benjamin and knelt beside him. Neither of them acknowledged the other, for a moment all their focus was on Anne. ¡°Is she dead?¡± he finally said.


    Ben shook his head. ¡°No. But they knocked her good.¡± He looked over at John, his own head bleeding. ¡°John, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°No time to discuss. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°John, your hand. What¡¯s wrong with it?¡±


    ¡°We have to go.¡±


    ¡°What in God¡¯s name¡ª¡±


    ¡°No time, I said!¡± John turned and pretended to reach inside his jacket so as to hide his shame. ¡°Jenkins? How are we on pistols?¡±


    ¡°Salvaged one, Cap¡¯n. Rest of ¡¯em have been fired or soaked.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s the better shot of us?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯d be me, sir.¡±


    ¡°In a fuckin¡¯ dream, per¡¯aps¡ª¡± Jaime laughed.


    ¡°Jenkins, you take the pistol and take the lead with me.¡± John pulled out his final unspent pistol. ¡°Jaime, help me put Anne on that horse there.¡± Only one of their horses had not yet fled or been shot. ¡°LaCroix, watch our backsides. Ben, are you hurt? Can you walk? Good. We¡¯re heading to the Turtle Crawles. We can see the North Docks from there. If all¡¯s clear, we head for the docks. For Hazard. Okoa should have her brought ¡¯round by now.¡±


    ¡°My crew,¡± Benjamin said. ¡°The Lively. I have to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Okoa has orders to board her if possible, and send a skeleton crew aboard to sail her away.¡± There was a loud crunch that rent the night¡ªwooden boards being broken. John glanced at the Behemoth, already striding higher up the hill, deeper into Port Royal. ¡°If the Behemoth didn¡¯t destroy them both on the way in, Hazard and Lively ought to be waiting for us at the North Docks, but we have to move quickly! Double-time, no slouching, you bloody fucking scallywags! And if we see any more militia along the way, the first of you to gut one gets ten fucking doubloons from me!¡±


    ¡°Aye-aye, sir!¡± shouted Jenkins, Jaime, and LaCroix as they got to it.


    John took one look back at Ben. The cat¡¯s-eye was easily spotted in the dark, and it was clear what it was staring at. John pushed his Corrupted hand deeper into his jacket. ¡°Let¡¯s move!¡±


    ____


    The Hazard drew closer to the docks. It now was coming alongside the Lively, which was to port. Okoa limped-slid-staggered back over to the stairs and climbed up to the quarterdeck, swinging his gaze from the moons to the Behemoth, which was still climbing the hills of Port Royal. He shouted into Irwin¡¯s ear, ¡°Steady, my friend! Steady there!¡±


    ¡°This is as steady as she¡¯s gettin¡¯, Quartermaster!¡±


    Okoa looked up at the three moons, clouds swirling around them. He called down to the men on the capstan bars. ¡°Drop anchor, lads!¡±


    The three Africans pulled the bars back a bit, then pushed forward hard, and they could all feel the deck judder as the massive chain was unrolled belowdecks to lower the anchor. Much of the seafloor around Port Royal¡¯s shore was just loose sediment, but a few ships had been sunk rather than taken to the shipbreaking yards for scrap. The sunken ships gave visiting ships plenty to anchor by, but in a high storm it could be bloody unreliable, what with the tide knocking the ships around.


    Crews knew when the anchor hit the seabed because the thump was felt all the way up the chain and onto the ship, and there would be a few breaths while they waited to see how well the anchor held. The ship would either drift or she wouldn¡¯t. Once Hazard steadied, Okoa grinned and clapped Irwin on the shoulder and limped over to the portside rail. ¡°Ropes out! Planks out! Get aboard her, you scallywags!¡±


    In moments the grappling hooks were tossed over and the men pulled on the ropes in teams of five or ten, getting Hazard within kissing distance of Lively. ¡°Mr. Reginald,¡± Okoa shouted to the cook. ¡°You be the Lively¡¯s captain, yes?¡± He gestured over to the brigantine.


    The cook looked unsure. Captain Laurier had nominated Reginald just before he left, as he had some training in steering, but Okoa could see the man¡¯s uneasiness now that the moment was nigh. ¡°Aye, Mr. Okoa,¡± the big man finally said. ¡°I reckon I can.¡±


    ¡°Then go! Today is your day! From cook to ship captain!¡±


    Planks were laid between the ships, but they were slippery footing. Some of the men crossed just by hanging from ropes and crawling, or else swinging over. Okoa clapped men¡¯s backs, encouraging them as they went. He was proud of them. Africans, Englishmen, Dutchmen, and Irishmen, all of them tossed aside by their governments for one reason or another, perhaps left for dead, perhaps forgotten, perhaps shunned after a lifetime of leal service, perhaps stolen or sold into slavery.


    Only one stood out. Captain Belmont came up the ladder from the forecastle and stood in the rain, holding onto the capstan bars for support while he watched pirates sneak across under cover of darkness and storm. Okoa called down to the militiaman, ¡°Captain! Up here!¡± Once Belmont climbed up the stairs, Okoa shouted above a growl of thunder. ¡°Captain Laurier say you stay belowdecks until this is all over.¡±


    ¡°I understand he doesn¡¯t want me going ashore and warning anyone what is happening. But I heard¡­good God, there it is.¡± Belmont faced north. A flash of lightning revealed the Behemoth. ¡°There it is. Just the same as the night you all took me from here. My God¡­just look.¡±


    ¡°Fill your eyes, and then go back belowdecks. That is an order, Captain.¡±


    But he may as well have commanded the waves to settle down, for Belmont could not tear his gaze away. He went to the portside rail and clung to it, holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the rain. He peered through the flapping ropes of the many ships moored here at the North Docks, moving his head side to side, craning his neck for a better look as the Behemoth kept climbing the hill. Okoa joined him by the rail, and said, ¡°Your religion. It speaks on the End of Days.¡±


    Belmont nodded. ¡°It does.¡±


    ¡°What does it say happens next? Captain won¡¯t say.¡±


    Belmont shook his head, then looked up at the three moons, visible through holes in the clouds. Holes fitted perfectly for those moons. The moonlights were unquenchable, and between that and the lightning all of Port Royal had a strange glow. Absurdly unusual in a rainstorm. Then he looked over to the Lively, the pirates crawling all over it like ticks.


    Okoa noticed something just then. The militiaman¡¯s face went through a change. Like something had just occurred to him. Belmont looked out to sea, at the ships anchored away from the North Docks. Then he looked back to shore. Then back to the Lively. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Is that what you all came here for?¡±


    Okoa nodded. ¡°The Lively. Didn¡¯t you know?¡±


    ¡°No. The Ladyman didn¡¯t want me knowing the plan. Foolish of him.¡±


    ¡°Why foolish?¡±


    ¡°Because if he had told me, I could have advised him against it.¡±


    Rain fell down Okoa¡¯s face. ¡°Why advise against?¡±


    ¡°Look at those ships out to sea. Good God, man, their gunports are open! Their starboard guns! The ones facing shore! Facing us! Did you not see them when you came in?¡±


    Okoa looked. No. For all the brightness of the night, there were still curtains of rain obscuring his view of his surroundings. But he still did not understand, not even when he heard the alarm in Belmont¡¯s voice. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Your captain¡¯s lover was taken by Woodes Rogers, yes? Never a cleverer beast than him. He figures ¡®Why kill the fox that¡¯s been looting your chicken house when you can wound it and lure in the rest of the pack?¡¯ Savvy?¡±


    Belmont looked over at Lively.


    ¡°There¡¯s a trap waiting for your men on that ship, sure as I¡¯m standing here seasick. I don¡¯t know what it looks like, but it¡¯s there. And those guns¡­¡± He pointed back to the ships anchored away from the docks. ¡°You flew us straight into a pincer, Mr. Okoa. And the only reason I¡¯m telling you this is because I mean to spend my last days at home with my family, not dead alongside you fucking maggots. Now, if you don¡¯t listen carefully, and do exactly as I say, we¡¯re all going to be joining the shipwreck we¡¯re currently anchored to.¡±


    ¡°You are not in¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in command now if you want to live. First thing is, abandon those men on the Lively. You cannot get them back in time. You need to unhook us from that brig. Tell your men to be ready to drop all sheets they¡¯ve reeled in, but don¡¯t drop them just yet. Then you need to get that fellow¡ªwhat¡¯s his name? Irwin? Get Irwin to turn the wheel far as he can thataway.¡±


    He pointed east.


    ¡°Then let sheets fly. We¡¯ll sail in front of those merchantmen moored over yonder, and that might make them squeamish about firing at us¡ªout of fear of hitting innocents on the docks and on shore. With any luck, these winds¡¯ll turn us so¡¯s our starboard guns are facing those out there. Perhaps we can make enough commotion we can leave. Perhaps they¡¯ll fix their guns on the Behemoth if it comes back. We have an opportunity here¡ª¡±


    ¡°We not leaving Captain Laurier,¡± Okoa said, even as he looked out at the ships anchored in the bay and cursed himself for being so blind. Flew right into the trap. Belmont is right. I flew us directly into it¡ª


    ¡°Didn¡¯t say you needed to leave him, just sail away, perhaps circle the island and send a boat with some of your crew to shore later, find him, then bring him back to some rendezvous point. I don¡¯t care, you just need to get us clear of this trap, which is about to spring any moment.¡±


    Belmont looked calm yet intense, a look Okoa had seen on the Ladyman¡¯s face too many times to count. A man with certainty in his deductions and his commands. It was clear why he had been entrusted to lead a militia unit.


    ¡°You need to decide now, Mr. Okoa. If we delay, then even if we decide to leave later, they will have us athwartships. I¡¯m no sailor, sir, but I know enough to know that we will be mincemeat and tinder wood before their cannons.¡±


    Okoa looked over at the Lively. Every instinct in his gut told him not to leave Reginald and his men. His crew. Then, all at once, he shouted to Irwin to keep an eye on Belmont, and limped as fast as he could down the stairs and hollered as loud as he could, ¡°Cut all ropes! Cut all ropes! Drop all planks and cut all ropes! Untie us from the Lively! She¡¯s a trap! Ship capstan bars and ready to weigh anchor! Treadwell, Conroy, signal the men aboard Lively to get off the ship, and run for their lives! We will regroup later on far side of island!¡±


    If there¡¯s anything left of Jamaica later, he thought, watching the Behemoth continue slogging up the hill.


    He shouted to the men hanging in the ratlines to climb up and be ready to let the sheets fly, then limped back up to the quarterdeck and gave Irwin the command to turn the wheel hard to starboard. Belmont was still leaning on the portside railing, his gaze flitting from the Behemoth, to the Lively, to the ships in the bay, as if wondering which of them would kill him first. In fact, Okoa believed that¡¯s exactly what the militiaman was thinking.


    The anchor was carefully raised, and slowly the Hazard began drifting away from the docks. From the Lively, men began yelling in shock and anger as some of them leapt over to grab hold of the netting, and others either missed and fell into the water or were forced to remain aboard.


    And no more than half a minute later, Okoa saw revelation, as Belmont¡¯s prediction came horribly true. A flash of lightning allowed him to see twenty or thirty men rushing up from Lively¡¯s belowdecks and onto the top deck. Men armed with blades and guns. An ambush! Two shots were fired. Okoa¡¯s heart raced as he watched more of his men leap from the Lively and into the waters. Most of them could not swim, and so they sank.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be long now¡ª¡± Belmont was just saying as he pointed to the ships in the bay.


    But Okoa was already shouting, ¡°Avast there, you bastards! Sheet home! Sheet home! Hoist away, lads! Quickly there, in the foretop! Look alive you scallywags! Stuns¡¯l sheets, let fly, let fly! Hands to the braces!¡±


    Every sheet bloomed in the chaotic wind and almost instantly they all felt Hazard surge as she caught it at broad reach and swam her prow from north to east. The wheel had been pre-turned so as to put the rudder in the right place to carry her where she needed to be. Hazard turned smartly, her starboard side coming around to aim out at the bay. Out at the ships parked there. The ships Belmont claimed were part of the trap and which Okoa now believed wholeheartedly.


    They had just pushed past the Edinburgh and were heading away from Port Royal when Okoa became aware of a shout of alarm. He looked down to the main deck and saw men running from starboardside to portside railing. He couldn¡¯t make sense of it. Are we being boarded? I saw no one swimming over from the Lively, they all sank when¡ª


    And then he saw it. Long, wet, and eel-like, the tenebrous thing emerged from the water and crawled up over the rail, slithering, at least twenty feet in length, like a colossal earthworm. An oil-black kraken! Its girth was at least twice as thick as a man¡¯s chest, and it already had in its split-faced head one of Hazard¡¯s crewmen. It moved fast yet clumsily, blindly smashing the barrels on deck and groping around for any other prey, as the first crewmen¡¯s feet disappeared down its gullet.


    The crew screamed. The tentacle shot back below the waves.


    Then thunder rang out. Too much thunder. Okoa saw the numerous flashes from the bay, and shouted, ¡°Brace yourselves!¡± just as the first volley of cannon shot tore through their ship.

 Chapter 43: Monsters in the Fog

    raked ¨C Said of a ship when an enemy vessel has come up behind her, with broadside cannons facing her rudder. All guns firing into her arse. The worst possible position to be in during ship-to-ship combat.


    THEY HEARD THE familiar juddering report of multiple cannons firing all at once. Not one of them failed to recognize what it was. Laurier looked back at Jaime, guiding the horse with Anne laid across its saddle. She was still unconscious. Up ahead, Jenkins peeked around the side of an apartment on Lime Street, held up a hand to signal them¡ª¡°hang on a minute¡±¡ªand then waved for them to follow as he dashed around the corner.


    Laurier looked back at his haggard men. He could barely see them through the rain. He waved for them to follow, unsure if this harebrained scheme was going to work after all. It was a stretch upon its conception, before the Behemoth showed up, now this storm and these spectres had turned everything on its head.


    And those cannons¡­they didn¡¯t bode well. For if someone was firing in the bay it was a good chance they were firing at the Hazard.


    There wasn¡¯t a soul to be found on Lime Street, and almost every building had been leveled, like an angry child had stampeded across their dollhouses. The rain fell on two or three corpses in the street. Laurier stood for just a moment in wonder at all the destruction, the splintered wood dragged out into the street, floating in the mud puddles that, upon closer inspection, were the impressions of gigantic feet, at least the size of a carriage.


    ¡°Hear that?¡± said Jaime. ¡°That a cryin¡¯ baby?¡±


    It was. John heard it, too. But after a few moments, it stopped. Jaime went looking for it.


    ¡°Jaime!¡± John called. But the Scotsman was gone.


    They ran on, past the Fish Market. Laurier saw the fleshless body of a woman, still alive, her breasts peeled off in sheets beside her, as she screamed up at the heavens and reached for someone, anyone, to help. They ran past her. Past the two children floating facedown in the mud. Past the horse that had been half stepped on, its belly split open, intestines floating in the puddle like dead eels. And all around them, the smell of sulfur and ammonia.


    Motion from their left. Laurier turned his sword at the dark shape coming at them. It was Jaime, a sniffling babe in hand.


    ¡°Keep that thing quiet,¡± John said.


    ¡°Poor thing, she canna help it, sir¡ª¡±


    ¡°Keep her quiet, I said!¡±


    Jaime put a hand over the child¡¯s mouth.


    At the Turtle Crawles, they came upon strays. Men and women dashing from shadow to shadow. A woman on her knees, weeping by the body of an old man, hands reaching up to the clouds as she shouted a prayer in a language Laurier vaguely recognized as French. In the distance, the cannons continued firing, and he could tell by their pitch that some of them were Hazard¡¯s guns. She¡¯s fighting back.


    ¡°Okoa¡¯s fighting, Cap¡¯n!¡± Jenkins shouted back. ¡°You hear her? She¡¯s fighting¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sshhh!¡±


    A pair of militiamen ran at them from out of nowhere. One of them stabbed Jenkins in his side with a bayonet before LaCroix could gut the redcoat, and the second one was dead from the shot Laurier fired. Laurier dropped his pistol, picked up their unfired rifles, tossed one to Vhingfrith, and ran on.


    ¡°You all right?¡± he said to Jenkins, who was holding his bleeding wound.


    ¡°I¡¯m a¡¯right, Cap¡ª¡±


    ¡°Good. Rendezvous¡¯s up ahead. If the others made it out, they¡¯ll be waiting on us. Keep moving, all of you,¡± the Ladyman commanded.


    They passed a woman in her apron, staggering in the mud, looking around in terror. John made a snap decision. He tore the baby out of Jaime¡¯s hands and handed it over to the woman. ¡°Take care of it!¡±


    The woman gaped at him. Then at the child in her arms.


    They ran on.


    ____


    Akil fought against the throng, all of them going the wrong way. Bogoa was by his side, shouldering through the river of people, Mosi right behind him, hacking at the things leaping out from the dark, sometimes hacking the innocent by accident. There was something loose in the streets, some new Monster, with its black, surging, semi-liquid tentacles that swam down through the alleys and snatched at their throats or wrists or ankles and tried pulling them into the darkness. Some of them flew, like serpents in the air. Omari had already been grabbed by them¡ªthose tentacles with chittering, bladed needles like small mouths and tiny teeth¡ªand he had been pulled into the darkness and lost. They searched but never found him, only pools upon pools of blood, and belly sacks, and tongues, all discarded like they were not the tastier bits.


    A hand grabbed Akil¡¯s shoulder. He did not think, only reacted, and hacked at the arm and kept running. Someone in the crowd shoved him. He shoved back. He stepped on the half-flayed corpse of a dog. Saw a chittering tentacle slash past his face and pluck a small boy from his mother¡¯s arms and lift him screaming into the sky.


    Akil had no idea what was going on, only some vague notion that he had accidentally stepped into a bad dream kept him from going mad. And yet part of him understood. This was the Long Night. The firmament acting up. This was what it did. This was how it was now. This was how it would be forever. Unless we escape it, find a way out of these Long Nights, set the World right again.


    Until then, they were trapped inside a cave of horrors, designed by a terrifying god.


    Mosi was grabbed by two militiamen. Bogoa hacked the nose off one of them, while Akil kicked the other in his chest and sent him to the ground. They grabbed Mosi and ran on. Ahead, they found a familiar form standing over a militiaman, hacking repeatedly with an axe. Roche saw them, briefly made eye contact with Akil as he ran past, and smiled as he got back to work hacking the militiaman to pieces.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we¡ª?¡± Mosi started.


    ¡°Let him find his own way!¡± Akil ordered. ¡°Keep moving! For the love of your fathers and mothers, keep moving!¡±


    Akil and his people did not know their way around Port Royal very well, they¡¯d had to trust the Ladyman¡¯s earlier instructions on how to find their way back to the docks. It had been this sort of chaos since they failed to secure the carriage with Vhingfrith in it. Constables and militiamen and even Royal Marines had flooded the streets, shooting and killing anyone that looked remotely like a pirate, chasing down any Africans they spotted. Some of them fired wildly up at the Behemoth. No one seemed to know which was the greater threat, none of the militiamen or marines seemed to know what was the greater duty.


    Akil hacked off the arm of another militiaman that appeared from an alleyway. Bogoa shoved a Royal Marine to the ground. They ran in, into the Long Night.


    Akil had never seen nor dreamt anything like this scene. People were trampled to death in the street. Mounds of them. Some piled up around dead ends where they had tried to climb a fence and trampled and suffocated one another, while the living used those mounds as stepstools to leap over fences to reach the rooftops.


    A wagon slashed by. Bogoa was clipped by the wheel, and fell to the ground. Akil helped him up, and ran on. They made it onto a wider street and found landmarks that the captain had said to look out for, like the drinking hall Akil had been taken to his first time in Port Royal¡ªThe Golden Goose.


    ¡°This way!¡± he shouted, emerging onto a mostly empty street. Just then a chittering tentacle came down from the sky, licking after a pair of white horses that had gotten free of their stables and come charging at them. Akil moved out of the way, but the horses forced Bogoa and Mosi to leap back into another alley. Suddenly, the tentacle gave up the horses, and now chased the two of them down the alley, away from Akil.


    ¡°Bogoa!¡± he shouted, running after them. ¡°Mosi! Run¡ª¡±


    Something hit him square in the chest. Something as round as an oak tree, just as solid, but slimy, mushy, and with chittering teeth that sliced through his shirt, through his flesh, and knocked him to the mud. Akil slid backward. Tried to stand. The tentacle wrapped around his ankle and whipped him off his feet and lifted him into the air. Ten or fifteen feet. Now twenty. Akil roared as he slashed at the tentacle, ripping open a wound and pouring black viscous liquid onto himself as he plummeted.


    He landed on a thatched roof. The wind was knocked out of him. The machete fell from his hand and went clattering somewhere. He slid off the roof and onto the street, facedown in the mud, trying to catch his breath.


    Akil¡¯s eyes were coated by fog. He closed them. When he opened them again, he was alone. Except for the ghost of a dead child, slowly walking towards him. He knew it was a ghost, for no white child was that pale, and none of them were translucent like foggy glass.


    Akil forced himself to his feet. Looking around, two more spirits came towards him, a man and a woman, their bodies translucent but covered in blood, mud, and writhing in an unnatural way. They came towards him with keen interest. The ghost-child tilted his head to the side playfully, his eyes were milky agates inside deep, dark sockets. Then the eyes flashed purple and he started skipping over to Akil. Akil tried to run but his legs gave out. The fall had taken it out of him. His lungs felt constricted. Wheezing, holding out his hands, half interested in joining the dead¡ª


    ¡°Akil!¡±


    There was a child crying somewhere, but it was not the ghost-child. The ghost-child was walking towards him now with a sinister smile, hands outstretched, eager to touch Akil¡¯s hand¡ª


    ¡°Akil!¡± A woman¡¯s voice. It grew louder, as did the child¡¯s cries.


    Then, the woman stood in front of him. Her back was to him, and Akil saw the child tied to her back. The woman held a pistol in one hand, a dagger in the other. ¡°Can you stand?¡± Noala shouted.


    ¡°Songiya¡­Songiya¡­¡±


    ¡°Can you stand, Akil?¡±


    He blinked. He no longer saw his wife, but saw Noala. ¡°I¡­yes.¡±


    ¡°Then get up! Get up and let us go! I cannot carry you so you¡¯ll have to do it yourself! Get up, my prince!¡±


    Akil rose to his feet. Searched around in the mud a moment before he found his machete. Once he hefted it, he tapped her shoulder and said, ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± The ghosts were closing in. Akil pulled Noala down an alley and they ran on, not knowing where they were going. They started down another alley, then turned back when they heard something approaching in the darkness. Something chittering. They came across two flayed bodies, still alive, still moaning, their lipless mouths opened in permanent screams, their lidless eyes looking wildly as they crawled in the mud and tried pulling sheets of their skin back onto themselves like bloody blankets. Their eyes suddenly glowed purple.


    Whatever was doing this, it liked to skin people, eat parts of them, but left them half alive to join the spirits. The spirits themselves were trying on the skins of other corpses like trying on clothes.


    ¡°Akil, what is this?¡± Noala panted. On her back, Yame was squalling.


    ¡°This is the world now, sweet woman,¡± he said, guiding her down another alley. ¡°This is what happens when the Long Night stays too long.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t let them take my child¡ª¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t either. Just stay close. Stay close to me and keep moving.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my prince.¡±


    ¡°No matter what happens to me, just keep moving. Don¡¯t risk yourself for me again.¡±


    ¡°I will not leave you, my prince.¡±


    Ahead of them, through the rain, a form came running at them. It was another militiaman. The redcoat ran right past them in a panic. A moment later, Roche appeared right behind him, and chased the redcoat down another alley, grinning ear to ear.


    Noala shouted, ¡°Roche? Roche! Come back, you fool! The Turtle Crawles are¡ª¡±


    ¡°Leave him.¡±


    ¡°We need everyone we¡ª¡±


    ¡°Leave him! He¡¯s got his own demons to chase.¡±


    Akil turned them down another lane. Yame¡¯s screams marred his thoughts. All around him he saw windows and shutters closing as people piled into the homes of their neighbors and sought shelter in numbers. Something leapt out of the shadows to their left. Noala fired at it, the smoke plume made it impossible to see the size of the tentacle, and Akil grabbed her elbow and pulled her down yet another lane. Up a set of stairs. Across a muddy street filled with half-eaten torsos and dogs baying angrily at the moons and a horse trotting around in circles, in search of a master.


    ¡°Akil,¡± said Noala. ¡°Something¡¯s behind us.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t look, just keep running.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s getting closer.¡± Yame¡¯s cries reached a crescendo, it sounded like the child¡¯s throat would break. ¡°Akil¡ª¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    He looked behind. Saw the large lumbering shape coming for them. He grabbed Noala and shoved her out of the way and brought his machete down on the Beast¡¯s head. It was too dark to make out its true form. Boar-like, with tusks, but the rest of it was multi-limbed and malformed. It screamed and collided with him with all the power of a raging bull, and Akil held on to its head, to those horns protruding like an antelope¡¯s. The wind knocked out of him, he clung to its fur and face, then felt as though his back was crushed when he collided with a door, which broke easily, and the Beast continued charging forward, into a house of screaming women and children. Its face split open like a sunflower and he smelled ammonia and plunged his machete into its gullet. Black bile poured onto his face, into his mouth, and he retched as the Beast lunged backward and snatched one of the children in its claws and retreated into the night.


    ¡°Nooooo!¡± screamed the child¡¯s mother, running after it.


    Akil stood up, gasping for air. He stumbled out into the street, looking for Noala. For a moment he could not find her. Behind him, inside the house, the children were all screaming in terror. He looked back at them. Considered staying for them. Staying and protecting. But what could he do? What could anyone do?


    Akil strained his ears. He could still hear the Beast somewhere close by, though the child¡¯s screams had gone silent. He heard its heavy footsteps, splashing around in the rain¡ª


    ¡°Akil?¡±


    Noala. She emerged from the doorway of a privy. She started to run towards him, but he held up a halting hand, and she retreated back into the privy and closed the door. Akil waited several minutes, listening to the sounds of Port Royal dying. An old man ran through the street, clutching the bloody stump of his right arm. Akil waited another moment, then ran across the street and opened the privy and pulled Noala and Yame out and ran down another alley.


    Unarmed and lost, he felt hunted. He swore he heard those tentacle-things slithering on the walls all around him, over the rooftops. Once or twice, he saw them swim through a puddle, directly towards them, and he and Noala changed direction. Dozens of sets of purple eyes peered at them from almost every alley.


    Then, something grabbed hold of Akil, and he spun to strike.


    ¡°Shhh,¡± said Roche. The Brazilian was coated in a film of blood and black bile. None of it looked like his. ¡°I think they smell fear. Or are attracted to it. Like a lion chases that which runs. That¡¯s why they run from me.¡±


    Akil and Noala stood there, panting. Akil started to ask something, but just then multiple detonations close by muted him. Cannonfire, and no mistake.


    ¡°This way,¡± Roche said. ¡°The Ladyman is waiting.¡±


    ____


    ¡°If you don¡¯t hurry, Mr. Okoa, they¡¯re going to rake us!¡± Belmont shouted.


    Okoa looked astern. Saw the lead ship bearing down on them fast, firing just within range but still missing. Geysers sprouted from the sea as cannon shot plunged into the waters. The rain had eased up, but the wind was still battering them, kept changing its mind, putting them at first broad reach and then close reach. That was giving the brig chasing them all the chance it needed to maneuver in a way to start turning to starboard and bring its portside battery to bear. Okoa saw the brig trying to do just that, but the wind was making it barely impossible to do while keeping pace with Hazard.


    But that was about to change, what with the shore reaching out ahead of them. Soon they would be forced to turn south, away from the shore and the shoals, and that would allow their pursuers to catch up. A change in course always slowed a ship down. The ship directly behind them harassed them with cannons, making a course change dangerous, while the four ships behind it were already changing course in anticipation of Hazard doing the same.


    They anticipated this. They¡¯ve done this before. They¡¯re coordinated and trained and we are now missing half our crew because I was stupid and offloaded them onto the Lively, into a trap, and we¡¯re also missing our captain¡ª


    ¡°Mr. Okoa,¡± said Belmont. ¡°You have to do something! I¡¯ve no love for you people but I cannot swim and I have no desire to be blown to flinders by my own countrymen and die as a bloody pirate!¡±


    Okoa thought quickly. The decision leapt to mind, and he had nearly zero confidence it would work, but he¡¯d seen the Ladyman do it enough times and decided it might be their only shot. ¡°Ship capstan bars! Prepare to drop anchor!¡±


    Belmont looked at him in shock. ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°Mr. Irwin, we going hard to starboard on my command!¡±


    ¡°Aye, Quartermaster!¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Belmont demanded.


    ¡°We going to club-haul this ship, Captain Belmont,¡± Okoa said. And he could tell the militiaman¡¯s mind was racing to make sense of that.


    ¡°But¡­won¡¯t that just turn us around?¡±


    ¡°Aye. And we going to race right back at them. With luck, we go between two of them instead of being surrounded by five.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s madness! Going between two ships¡­that puts us between the starboard guns of one ship and the portside guns of the other!¡±


    ¡°Better than being raked! Raked, we die. If we strafe between them fast enough, some of their shots maybe miss.¡±


    Belmont shouted something but it was lost in the thunder. A moment later the anchor was dropped. Okoa grabbed hold of a rail and a rope as the ship heeled hard to starboard. Belmont did the same, but a wave hit them and water rushed up to his knees and knocked him on his ass. Hazard moaned and creaked under protest, but she persevered. Irwin straightened her out, pointing her prow directly at one of the four ships that had been heading southeast, trying to head them off.


    ¡°Weigh anchor!¡± Okoa cried, and the men at the capstan worked double time to reel it in.


    The maneuver slowed them down considerably, but the ship that had been following them hadn¡¯t seen it coming, so they only got a few shots off from their broadsides as Hazard swam away from her. Okoa ordered the stunsails drawn in for a bit, allowing them to not be so much a slave to the wind¡¯s chaotic mood, then ordered them released once they were coming directly towards the two brigantines.


    ¡°Luff and touch her, Mr. Irwin!¡±


    ¡°Aye, Quartermaster!¡±


    ¡°Prepare cannons!¡±


    ¡°Aye, Mr. Okoa!¡± cried McConnell.


    ¡°Here we go, lads! Brace yourselves!¡±


    ____


    Vhingfrith stood and listened to the arguing and confusion. ¡°I dunna understand,¡± said Jaime, limping over to the lanternpost to prop himself up. ¡°What¡¯s ¡¯appened? Why did Okoa leave us?¡±


    ¡°Are you deaf?¡± Jenkins barked at him. ¡°D¡¯you not see the bloody ships firin¡¯ on them?¡± The lightning and three moons allowed them to see everything from here. ¡°Okoa had no fuckin¡¯ choice but to leave¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Dobbs?¡± LaCroix shouted. There were few of Laurier¡¯s pirates here. Four of the Africans had arrived at the rendezvous point near the Turtle Crawles, and none of those were Akil or his warriors. ¡°Or Isaacson? Anybody seen¡ª¡±


    ¡°How the fuck¡¯re we supposed ter get off this bloody island?¡± Jaime shouted.


    ¡°Has anybody seen Dobbs?¡± LaCroix insisted.


    Vhingfrith looked at Anne Bonny, who was still lying over the horse¡¯s saddle and had just stirred and mumbled. He checked on her while the others argued.


    ¡°Captain, we canna stay here!¡± Jaime said. ¡°We need ter take one o¡¯ them ships!¡±


    ¡°Are you mad?¡± Jenkins countered. ¡°Do you still not see those fucking ships? They¡¯ve got the whole bloody bay blockaded! They lured Hazard into a trap! And Okoa sailed right into it!¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t his fault,¡± said the Ladyman. ¡°I told him where to go, what to do, but the storm would blind any seasoned sailor, so we must forgive Okoa¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait, why didn¡¯t Okoa secure the Lively?¡± asked LaCroix.


    ¡°We canna stay here!¡± Jaime said again. ¡°An¡¯ we canna wait for any o¡¯ the others! We ¡¯ave ter save ourselves!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll wait right here for Dobbs, at least,¡± Jenkins said.


    ¡°You can wait, but I¡¯m¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t they secure the Lively?¡± LaCroix asked again.


    ¡°Captain¡­¡± Anne was trying to say. She had woken up and was now sliding off the horse and leaned against Vhingfrith. ¡°Captain¡­did you see it? Did you see the Behemoth? And all those¡­ghosts?¡±


    ¡°I saw them, Annie girl.¡± John walked over and kissed her forehead. ¡°Damn, but you did a good job securing Captain Vhingfrith for us.¡±


    For us? Ben thought.


    ¡°I¡ªI tried to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Easy, Anne,¡± said Jenkins. ¡°You done good, girl.¡±


    Vhingfrith handed her over to Jenkins and walked to the edge of the dock. He was still barefoot, still bleeding from his head, but he¡¯d almost completely forgotten both burdens. He was soaked to the bone and watching the sea heave while five or six ships fired on the Hazard as she raced away from the North Docks. He cast his eyes to those docks, focused his cat¡¯s-eye on the Lively, lightly bobbing there amid the other moored ships. He saw a dozen men moving all around her, none of them looked like his people, nor did they look like any of John¡¯s. But something was familiar about the movement of one or two of them, their strides and their gesturing. He¡¯d seen it somewhere before.


    ¡°I know why they didn¡¯t secure the Lively,¡± Benjamin said. Most of the shouting died down, and they all turned to him. ¡°I can see them from here.¡±


    ¡°See who, Ben?¡± John said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who they are, but they aren¡¯t your people or mine. They¡¯re crawling all over my ship. And I see¡­two¡­maybe three men lying dead there on the quarterdeck.¡± He nodded to himself. ¡°Yes¡­yes, that¡¯s your cook there. They¡¯ve killed him.¡±


    ¡°Reginald?¡±


    ¡°I believe so.¡±


    ¡°Who are the men you see aboard the Lively?¡±


    Before he could answer, Vhingfrith heard one of the pirates ask, ¡°How can he bloody see them from here?¡± and another one answered, ¡°It¡¯s that bloody devil¡¯s eye. Cat¡¯s-eye. Whatever. Have you been asleep these last few¡ª?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t make out their faces,¡± said Benjamin, straining to see through the sheets of rain and intervening distance. ¡°But something is familiar about one or two of them. The way they walk¡­their gaits¡­¡±


    ¡°Gates?¡± said Jenkins. ¡°They have gates blocking us? There¡¯s no gates at the North Docks.¡±


    ¡°Not that kind of gate, Mr. Jenkins,¡± said John. ¡°He means the way they walk. What about their gaits, Ben?¡±


    Vhingfrith shut his right eye, and held a hand above his head to block the rain and the light of the three moons. He watched for a few moments while men with blades and pistols walked about the Lively¡¯s deck. His deck. ¡°They¡¯ve got swords. Pistols. Most of them look like they know how to use them.¡± He kept scanning. A big man appeared from the forecastle, striding confidently, with broad shoulders and a large, shimmering, bald head. ¡°Jacobson.¡±


    Laurier stepped to his side. ¡°Jacobson?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He¡¯s down there. It was a trap, I suppose. Someone knew you would come for me. Or, at least, they suspected.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure? You¡¯re sure it¡¯s Jacobson?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Those bastards!¡± Jenkins growled. ¡°Fucking traitorous scum! They¡¯ve turned against their own kind!¡±


    ¡°They were waiting on your ship,¡± Ben said. ¡°When Okoa sent some of your crew over, they were slaughtered by Jacobson and his team. I am sure this was Rogers¡¯s plan. The Admiralty may have authorized it but it was his plan.¡±


    LaCroix spat. ¡°Raclure de bidet! Fucking bastards!¡±


    Vhingfrith heard footsteps splashing in mud. Looked to the right, cat¡¯s-eye piercing the veil of dark. ¡°You¡¯ve got friends coming, Captain.¡±


    John turned and looked.


    ¡°Who goes there?!¡± the Scotsman barked, rounding on the three shapes emerging from the dark.


    ¡°I told you, it¡¯s friends!¡± Vhingfrith shouted. ¡°It¡¯s the Brazilian. And isn¡¯t that your liberated slave, John? Who¡¯s the woman and child?¡±


    ¡°Akil!¡± John beamed, and ran to the African and embraced him so fast and powerfully that it seemed to jar the big man. John slapped him, good-naturedly, on the face with his left hand. His Corrupted hand clutched his sword. (Ben had been eyeing that hand.) ¡°Wonderful to see you, friend. And you, Noala. Yame¡¯s lungs are still working, I see. Roche, you bastard! I knew you¡¯d make it out! So glad you could join us. Well done! Well done, indeed, all of you!¡±


    ¡°We lost some of our people to Monsters, Captain,¡± Akil panted. ¡°I¡¯m happy you waited for us.¡±


    ¡°We weren¡¯t going to wait much longer, faith. Yonder goes our beautiful Hazard, chased by English devils, and over there is the Lively, guarded by enemies who seem to have slain Reginald and some of our people.¡±


    ¡°We kill them?¡± said Akil.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I feel a brotherhood with you, Akil. You see what must be done and bluntly state it. Yes, we have to take the Lively out of here. These other ships, they¡¯re all boxed in with no way out, and most of them aren¡¯t fast enough to outrun this blockade. And we¡¯ll need her guns.¡±


    Vhingfrith walked over and appraised the men and the woman. Akil was covered in some black, shit-smelling liquid, while Roche was covered in equal amounts of blood. ¡°What happened to you?¡±


    Akil looked uncomfortable addressing him, and Benjamin suddenly realized this was probably the first time Akil had ever spoken to a half-white man, much less one with a cat¡¯s-eye. ¡°Beasts. I not know what kind.¡±


    John looked over at the Brazilian. ¡°You all right?¡±


    Roche shrugged, and spat. ¡°S¨ª.¡±


    ¡°Are you armed?¡±


    Roche pulled the axes from his belt loops. ¡°S¨ª.¡±


    ¡°We lost our weapons, Captain,¡± said Noala, shushing her baby.


    ¡°Well, grab something. Fast. A club, a stick, anything. We¡¯ll be heading to the Live¡ª¡±


    ¡°Someone¡¯s coming,¡± Vhingfrith said, pointing east up Lime Street. ¡°Your man Dobbs, I believe. He¡¯s alone.¡±


    ¡°Dobbs!¡± LaCroix shouted. The Frenchman ran to the young man, who came splashing through the rain carrying a musket. LaCroix gave him a bear hug and looked him over. ¡°You fucking little nipper!¡±


    Jenkins rushed over and slapped Dobbs before hugging him. Dobbs walked over to check on Anne.


    Vhingfrith ignored the reunion, his thoughts were marshalled around how to get his ship back from his former first mate. He knew that if he went down there, there would be no negotiating with the likes of Euric Jacobson. Vhingfrith could only imagine that if he¡¯d been bought off by someone in the Admiralty to act as an assassin to his old captain, then the rest of them must be there, too¡ªGalbraith, the other mutineers, and Gordon and Hoyt Burr, who would still want revenge for Vhingfrith killing their brother Lawrence. Vhingfrith felt his father¡¯s words coming true, that there would come a day when all the World would shun him, and he would be surrounded by enemies, and his only allies would be villains.


    ¡°What about the others?¡± Jenkins was asking. He looked at Akil. ¡°Your friends, Bogoa and Mosi and all the rest.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure they made it,¡± Akil said.


    ¡°What about Isaacson?¡± Jaime said, wincing as he held onto his ribs. ¡°Anyone o¡¯ yeh seen that cunt?¡±


    ¡°I lost him right after the carriage took off,¡± Jenkins said. ¡°Anne, you seen him? Dobbs?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Anne.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t seen him,¡± said Dobbs. In the darkness, no one else could¡¯ve caught it but Vhingfrith. The look in Dobbs¡¯s eyes, a glance over at the Ladyman, a strange exchange between the two of them. An understanding. Vhingfrith made a note to pursue it later, if he survived this Long Night.


    There came another report of cannonfire and they all turned to watch the Hazard disappear across the bay, and all of the ships that had been in the bay were in pursuit.


    ¡°If we¡¯re decided, then let¡¯s move now,¡± John said. ¡°The small mercy is we¡¯ve got an opening now that they¡¯re chasing Hazard. This is it, we won¡¯t get another chance like this.¡±


    ¡°What is he talking about?¡± Dobbs asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re a-thinkin¡¯ we need to take back the Lively ourselves,¡± said Jenkins, catching him up. While he was talking, two more Africans showed up¡ªBogoa and Mosi, both of them bloody yet intact. They through their arms around Akil in a brotherly hug. Vhingfrith was aghast at Bogoa¡¯s blackened, Corrupted face, and saw that it bore similarities in color and texture to John¡¯s right hand.


    While the others debated what they should do next, Vhingfrith stepped next to Laurier, and said, ¡°I have to go in as advance. Alone.¡±


    ¡°Ben, you can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can see them, John. But they can¡¯t see me. Not in all this.¡± He gestured at the darkness and the storm all around. ¡°You bring your people from the docks, use the barrels there by that felucca for cover¡ª¡±


    ¡°What barrels? I don¡¯t see any.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, they¡¯re there. Approach from that direction and use them as cover.¡±


    ¡°Where will you be?¡±


    ¡°Give me a blade. I¡¯m going for a swim.¡±


    Laurier hesitated a moment, then took the musket from Dobbs and unscrewed the bayonet and gave the blade to Vhingfrith. ¡°Ben¡­we¡¯ve been out to sea for months, and been through a few Long Nights. There are creatures out there in the sea, things born of the firmament.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve seen some of them.¡±


    ¡°If you go swimming, watch out for anything. I mean it. They are not like sharks or squids or even krakens. They are¡­fiendish. Gargantuan. Or sometimes small devils with purple eyes¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Benjamin looked around at each of them. ¡°I will scout in, try and take out one or two stealthily. When you hear the fighting start, move in fast.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we take one o¡¯ the other ships?¡± Jenkins said. ¡°There ain¡¯t anyone guarding the rest of them in the Crawles or the Docks.¡±


    ¡°Because, Mr. Jenkins,¡± Ben said, ¡°you¡¯ll notice the rest are all bunched in. Rogers made sure the Lively was parked on the perimeter of the Docks, outside the cluster of ships, so that she would be easier for us to get clear of the docks¡ªthat was the bait. We would probably need to move the Lively in order to get the others clear.¡±


    John looked back at him. ¡°Ben, this isn¡¯t safe. You¡¯ll be outnumbered.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re already outnumbered, John, we have no more pistols or rifles, and I¡¯m sure they will have some. I just need to get in there and even it out a little, before they know what¡¯s happening.¡±


    ¡°Ben¡ª¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s one thing I know, Ladyman, it¡¯s how to win hide-and-seek in the dark.¡±

 Chapter 44: Mr. Burrs Return

    coaming ¨C A vertical rim surrounding hatch openings on a ship, to help keep any water on deck from leaking to the deck below.


    SIX OR SEVEN died in the first few seconds. The first barrage nearly tore off their mizzenmast. A splinter flew into Okoa¡¯s right cheek and he pulled it out and ignored the bleeding for the moment. By the time he stood up the Hazard¡¯s own retaliatory cannonfire was over. He had conducted the cannoneers himself, but it had not mattered. The batteries of the two brigantines were even more devastating than he had expected. Now he looked to the wheel and for a moment despaired because he did not immediately see Irwin. He thought the pilot was dead. Then Irwin¡¯s head suddenly popped up, and he gripped the wheel in his fists and flung it hard a-larboard.


    Okoa struggled to stand. There was a fire somewhere in the aft castle but the rain and the sea were putting it out. He stepped over a man clutching the stump of his leg and screaming, staggered up the stairs, and shouted, ¡°Does the steering answer? Did they get our rudder?¡±


    ¡°No, sir!¡± Irwin replied. ¡°We¡¯re still able to maneuver!¡±


    Thank the gods and spirits for that much, at least.


    ¡°But we¡¯re almost in irons, Mr. Okoa! The wind¡¯s not in our favour, slowing us down! They¡¯ll be able to turn around and hit us before we can make it to Bull Bay.¡±


    Bull Bay. Where most ships opened all their sails and made their first push away from Port Royal. It was a clear patch of sea, good for starting a journey. If they didn¡¯t make for Bull Bay, the only other options were shallow shoals that could beach them, or heading right back into the North Docks. A dead end that way. And even if they made it to land they¡¯d be stuck with the Behemoth¡ª


    There came a loud scraping. Doubtless, a piece of one of the shipwrecked vessels underneath them. The swells in the water took them up one moment, just a couple of feet, and then they dropped back down into the plunges. A small eddy swirled to their port. Okoa looked to the sky, at the three moons, like the three eyes of a vengeful god, surrounded by angry black clouds spitting out lightning. The firmament¡¯s power at work.


    ¡°You¡¯re bleeding, sir!¡± Irwin said.


    Okoa touched the hole in his cheek. ¡°Just keep us out of irons, Mr. Irwin!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try, sir!¡±


    ¡°Okoa!¡±


    He swung to see Belmont at the lee rail, pointing behind them. ¡°They¡¯re coming ¡¯round!¡± All five ships were turning hard, some of them using the same club-hauling tactic. Two of the ships were coming close enough they were scraping each other, and blocking the path of another of their fleet. It was a bit of luck, jamming them up like that, but it wouldn¡¯t last.


    ¡°I see it, Captain Belmont,¡± said Okoa. ¡°I see it. Nothing to do.¡± He looked at the militiaman. ¡°How do you feel about firing cannons back at your own countrymen?¡±


    Belmont glared at him. ¡°Fire your rear cannons, you mean.¡±


    ¡°Just to ward them off. I assure you, they will pull their crews away from the bows of their ships, to keep safe. We just need to make them aware that we are still dangerous.¡± He added, ¡°We are short several cannon men just now. We could use you now, Captain.¡±


    Belmont was visibly conflicted. He shook his head, but more to himself than in answer to Okoa¡¯s request.


    ¡°Belmont?¡±


    The militiaman¡¯s voice cracked. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to load them.¡±


    ¡°I get a man to show you. He show you how to aim, too.¡±


    ____


    The water was typical of a storm¡ªchoppy, angry, the current changing its mind from moment to moment. Vhingfrith dove beneath the waves to avoid being slapped around by them, and to avoid being seen. Underneath the water, he saw almost as clearly as he did above. The cat¡¯s-eye revealed all. Skeletons of old boats, some of them sunk purposefully, others had sunk in storms just like this one. Well, not like this one. Barnacles and seaweed clung to the huge wooden columns that propped up the docks. There were makeshift structures down here, where artificial embankments had been built up ages ago, during low tides, for the workers that had walked around the columns as they inserted some of them into the soil. Sunken canoes. Old scaffolding. Wooden walls and even rugged stone columns stood as ghostly reminders for the part of Port Royal that sank beneath the water in the earthquake twenty-four years prior.


    Vhingfrith surfaced to take a breath, then fought against the seawater, which made him buoyant, and dove deep beneath small boats, swimming past someone¡¯s old stone hut, the wooden columns and struts that had collapsed and been replaced, the mast of a wrecked sloop, the prow of a brigantine. And he was sure something was swimming down here with him, something huge, and Vhingfrith swore that he saw black, bulbous things, like the eyes of Old Charley, only a little smaller, off in the black distance.


    And purple opals. Eyes. There were dozens of them moving out there somewhere, far away from shore yet getting closer.


    He did not know if these things noticed him, or if they meant to eat him if they did. It was either this or take Jacobson¡¯s people head-on, in which case he was sure he and John¡¯s people would lose. Benjamin would lose. Lose the Lively, lose his freedom, lose his life. So this was it, his last play.


    The storm raged on above. Each time he surfaced to catch his breath he heard the rippling thunder of cannons firing on the Hazard. He imagined she would founder soon, sink like the rest of these. Lively was their only bet while the blockade ships were occupied¡ª


    Vhingfrith became aware of a form moving close to him. Each time he surfaced, he lost sight of it, but it returned not long after he went back under. Beneath the keel of a small felucca, his cat¡¯s-eye revealed that the form was not large¡ªfive, maybe six feet in length, and swimming towards him with limbs like a man. But he¡¯d learned from the Leviathan, from the Beasts that assaulted Port Royal, from the Behemoth now destroying the town, from Swanson the Messenger, that the creatures of the firmament could take countless forms.


    Vhingfrith swam behind a pillar. Waited. Peeked around the pillar and waited a moment longer, until he saw the form disappear behind a stone hut below him. He planted his feet against the pillar and pushed off, paddling hard, resurfacing to fill his lungs and checking his distance. Lively was bobbing in the waves ahead, about a hundred yards ahead. The pier beside it had a dozen men, one of them carrying a lantern. Vhingfrith took a gulp of air and dived just as one started looking his way, and paddled hard to get at least a dozen feet below the surface.


    The same dark form as before followed him. Long and lanky, and now swimming towards him. Not fast, not with any urgency, but definitely coming towards him. Fist-sized eyes, each one onyx-black and spherical, swam off to his right, and quickly vanished behind the keel of a small ship. The disturbance it caused in the current was enough to tell him its size and speed. It tossed him about in the water a moment before he resurfaced, grabbed hold of a pier¡¯s wood column, accidentally gulped water and gagged, then grabbed some more air and dived back down.


    That¡¯s when he came face to face with Lawrence Burr. The dead privateer¡¯s haggard green face was inches from Vhingfrith¡¯s, and he reached out, almost curiously, his purple-glowing eyes vacant as the entrance to a cave.


    Vhingfrith screamed underwater and kicked him away, but a pair of hands¡ªstrong, cold hands¡ªgripped his ankles and dragged him down. Down, down, down.


    Down.


    I¡¯ve got you now, Captain.


    Down. Past the masts. Past a stony roof.


    You¡¯re down here with me now. Quite cozy, isn¡¯t it?


    Down past the keel of a sloop. His lungs were burning.


    Fancy Negro, presuming to give yourself airs. Let me show you where I¡¯ve been staying.


    Vhingfrith didn¡¯t think he was imagining the voice. In a way, it felt like Swanson¡¯s had, like it wasn¡¯t meant for human ears and was somehow defying the physics of the water and coming through clear as a bell and crawling on the inner walls of his skull and detonating in his eardrums.


    Down.


    Onto the deck of a ship. His throat wanted to open. Wanted to release the bad air and let good air in¡ª


    Down. Down.


    He kicked and thrashed. Felt panic rise in him, his heart pounding, cold seaweed wrapping around his limbs like tentacles. Dozens of sets of purple eyes moved all around him in a storm of dark light. His right hand grabbed the bayonet from his waist and stabbed at Burr¡¯s face. The blade went through his cheek and Burr hung on, but only for a moment, and then he let go. Vhingfrith turned in the water and swam away, realizing, belatedly, that he¡¯d gotten turned around and didn¡¯t know up from down. He swam towards the coaming and grabbed hold of the edge. Swam through an open hatch, into the forecastle. Slammed his head against a wooden brace.


    He swam away from the dark form below him.


    Vhingfrith¡¯s head suddenly came above water in a darkness only his cat¡¯s-eye could penetrate. He gasped and screamed from both fear and surprise and exultation at fresh air. He was inside a giant air pocket, trapped along the wall of the forecastle¡¯s nose. He scraped his feet along the wall, which was canted, like a rising floor, and he flopped and crawled as far as he could go, getting everything but his feet out of the water. The ship was on its side and this small haven of trapped air had been waiting for him all these years.


    And waiting for Lawrence Burr, whose seaweed-covered dome just then emerged from the water, slowly, and looked around. Vhingfrith held in his scream. Burr¡¯s empty sockets looked around the room, until at last the Apparition¡¯s gaze fell on Vhingfrith. ¡°Devil¡¯s Son,¡± said the Apparition.


    The voice wasn¡¯t like Swanson¡¯s now, but it was penetrating, and it burrowed into his brain like a worm, and it stank. Benjamin made a feeble attempt at making one last stand, rising up as much as he could while holding the bayonet out in front of him threateningly, somehow knowing an Apparition would be unfazed by a simple blade.


    ¡°I can¡¯t see, Captain. But I know you¡¯re in there. I can feel you. It¡¯s strange, being on the other side like this. You should see it. You should all see it. Ain¡¯t at all what I imagined.¡±


    Benjamin gagged from the fumes of Burr¡¯s breath.


    Burr took a step out of the water, slipped, fell to his knees, and so started to crawl. Benjamin hunkered down, waiting to spring. He didn¡¯t know what his plan was. Fear rose in him like never before, choking him. He felt himself pulled back to childhood, such a rich and potent terror that recalled all those moments of lying awake in bed, waiting to take a piss, but not wanting to swing his feet off the mattress for fear that something underneath the bed would grab his ankles. And here it was, that Thing That Grabs Ankles. It was real. It existed.


    Burr did a half lunge at him, slipped again, his cold hands raking across Benjamin¡¯s legs. Benjamin backed up as far as he could, his neck turned at an unnatural angle in the cramped confines¡ª


    And his cat¡¯s-eye saw it. Burr was crawling up towards him, but his right arm, having barely missed Benjamin, temporarily got snagged in netting. All at once, Benjamin recalled the last argument he¡¯d had with Lawrence Burr. You¡¯re not much good with knots, Mr. Burr, so I have to make use of you somewhere¡ª


    Burr struggled to free himself. In that moment, he realized the Apparition had made an error. It had revealed that it was Burr. Or, if not Burr, then an imitation. It knows only what he knows. The Apparition was not as intelligent as the Messenger, it was not as omnipresent or omniscient. It was a shallow replica of Burr, something the firmament had spat back up out of Burr¡¯s old moulding.


    Burr wrenched himself loose, like a man fed up, and Ben leapt at the netting, grabbed fistfuls, and wrapped them around Burr¡¯s neck. Around and around, many times. Then he rolled onto Burr¡¯s body¡ªhis cold, stiff, mushy body¡ªand landed in the water behind him and quickly tied the netting around Burr¡¯s foot in a fisherman¡¯s bend knot. First knot his father ever taught him.


    Then he took a deep breath¡ªbut probably not deep enough¡ªand leapt over Burr¡¯s hunched body and plunged back into the water and swam. Back out of the hatch, planting his feet on the edge of the coaming and launching himself up, towards the surface, aware of several other dark forms swimming all around him, all about the size of Burr himself. More Apparitions with bones to pick with someone, no doubt.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    When he breached the surface, Benjamin was tumbled two or three times by the waves. In the distance he heard the detonations of cannonfire. He swam hard for the pier, which was much closer than he¡¯d estimated, and clung to the rope lashings and a net some fisherman had left hanging over the side. He pulled himself up, the whole time waiting for the pair of cold, stiff, mushy hands to grab his ankles and pull him back under. But they didn¡¯t. Apparently even in death Lawrence Burr was still hopeless when it came to tying or untying knots.


    Once Vhingfrith was on the planks, he sagged to his knees a moment, catching his breath. For a moment he forgot what he was supposed to be doing. He could still smell Burr¡¯s breath, could still see those vacant sockets with the occasional flash of purple. Then he looked at his right hand and was surprised to see he still had his bayonet. He shook himself, got himself into a crouch, and crept along the pier. Occasionally, he glanced over his shoulder, certain he would see Burr following him.


    ____


    The Edinburgh had now joined the chase, and Okoa felt their small chance of escape slipping away. The fifth-rate ship had appeared through the rain and darkness, rearing up behind the two brigantines currently pursuing the Hazard. The brigs were about a hundred yards apart and the fifth-rate appeared to be cutting right between them, having come off a broad-reach heading and now running. With that much momentum, her prow cut through the water like a hot knife to butter.


    ¡°Level your gun! Out tompion!¡± Okoa shouted to the rear gunners, knowing full-well it was over, this wasn¡¯t going to work. ¡°Run out your gun! Prime!¡± Lines of powder were poured down the touch hole of each cannon. ¡°Point your gun!¡±


    The men did as bidden, with Captain Belmont helping. The militiaman had been reluctant, but seeing as how they were nowhere close to shooting his fellow countrymen, he was going along. Okoa had noticed Belmont glancing over the side more than once. Doubtless, he was wondering how deep the water was, if he could luck out and find a high enough sandbar to jump onto. But if that was Belmont¡¯s reasoning, he found no way out. He saw his doom coming for him. Coming for all of them. Three ships of the line had managed to stay close¡ªthe others had fallen a little behind and were gaining, but if it weren¡¯t for the Edinburgh and the other two¡­


    We might have gotten away. We might have done it.


    Okoa sighed and looked around at the damage to the ship. It had been a good fight, and a terrific chase, but they just couldn¡¯t break free. They had been outmaneuvered, chased into a position where the wind was never on their side. Whenever they¡¯d outrun one or two of the ships, another one was waiting to cut them off.


    To starboard, he could just make out the shore, and the Behemoth¡¯s great looming shape could be seen at the top of the hill. Whenever lightning struck, he could see it do something strange. Stabbing its hands at the sky, its fingers elongating, almost like branches, and glowing yellow clouds pouring out of it before darkening.


    There came several percussive booms. Cannon shot splashed all around them.


    ¡°Fire!¡± he shouted.


    Another useless salvo, serving no purpose except to encourage the crew to fight till the bitter end, till Fiddler¡¯s Green.


    Another boom. A cannon shot sailed over their heads and ripped through a sheet. The ship heeled in the wind and waves, and a man fell from a mast and smacked against the deck and never moved again. Another shot whistled over their heads.


    ¡°That one was the Edinburgh!¡± called Irwin. ¡°Her guns seem to reach farther than the others! She¡¯ll be on us quick!¡±


    ¡°I see that, Mr. Irwin. Keep us steady. Just¡­¡± Okoa was out of things to say. Out of commands to give. He looked south to Bull Bay. They were within sight of it, but they were never going to reach it.


    ¡°Sail ho!¡± someone called from the crow¡¯s nest.


    Okoa had already spotted it. A dark shape. No mistaking it for a three-master. One of the other ships of predation, moving in on them like a wolf out of the snow, and they were the hare with nowhere left to run.


    ¡°Mr. Irwin.¡±


    ¡°Quartermaster?¡±


    ¡°It has been an honour.¡±


    The helmsman looked over at him. Sentiment was exchanged in that moment, two men cast away from their homes against their will, made pirates against their will, and now at the end of each of their stories. Irwin nodded, said nothing, and kept on steering. Because what else would a pilot do? Okoa prayed to gods, many of their names forgotten or misremembered.


    ¡°Mr. Okoa?¡± said Belmont.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Captain. Just make your peace now. All of you, make your peace.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s she doing?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Okoa turned and looked at the three ships pursuing them, the two brigs and the fifth-rate between them. The brigs were continuing forward as normal, but the Edinburgh, which had pulled ahead of them, now swayed back and forth. Her prow went left to right, and then right to left, which cut her speed and allowed the other two ships to come up alongside her. Slowing down so suddenly like that usually indicated a change in tactics. And whatever Okoa was expecting next, it wasn¡¯t what happened.


    Both Edinburgh¡¯s portside and starboardside guns fired, all at once, to the ships on either side of her. And they hit. And in less than thirty seconds, they fired again. The two brigs suddenly turned away, betrayed, and moved so sluggishly that within moments Okoa was certain the Edinburgh must¡¯ve fired low, into the ships¡¯ keels, rupturing them, forcing them to take on water. The two brigs tried at a feeble defence, but likely their gunnery teams had not been prepared for sudden treachery and so had no response ready. And likely some of their gunnery teams had been taken out.


    Okoa did not believe his eyes. He shielded them from the rain, straining to see what really happened, for there was no conceivable way the Edinburgh had just done what it had done. ¡°Why would she do that?¡± he asked the wind.


    ¡°Mr. Okoa?¡± said Belmont.


    ¡°I have no answers, Captain. None whatsoever. Mr. Irwin?¡±


    ¡°Never seen anything like it before, sir,¡± the helmsman said in awe.


    They all watched the Edinburgh gain speed again, changing course temporarily to go broad reach, borrowing power from the wind, then changing course back to running, headed north. Directly towards the Hazard.


    A rogue wave splashed up against their port side and everyone held on as Hazard heeled to starboard and the water went briefly up to their thighs before rushing overboard. One man was carried away. Okoa felt himself nearly knocked over the railing and was surprised to find it was Belmont¡¯s hand on his collar, pulling him upright.


    Before Okoa could utter thanks, Belmont pointed. ¡°There.¡±


    Okoa turned. Lightning lit up the world, showing him what Belmont meant. Up ahead, another ship had just appeared alongside the first. They were still outnumbered, still outgunned¡ªbut, looking back at the Edinburgh, it appeared they had an ally out here on the water. And though he did not understand it, Okoa gave the order to change tack. ¡°Slow us down, Mr. Irwin! Let that fifth-rate catch up to us! Guard her port side and hope she guards our starboard! Man broadsides, you scallywags! We¡¯re not out of it yet!¡±


    ¡°Yo-ho!¡± they cried.


    ____


    The greatest threat was Jacobson. Laurier knew that if Euric Jacobson was not slain stealthily by Vhingfrith, then it was going to be a very bloody fight. He and the others watched from the place Vhingfrith had told him to wait, behind a row of barrels and a crane holding up an empty fishing net, about thirty yards from the Lively¡¯s gangplank. If we do not seize this ship, we¡¯ll never leave Jamaica alive. The rain had eased off, but it was still coming down at a constant slashing angle. Looking behind, he saw Dobbs, Akil, Mosi, Bogoa, Noala, Anne (still have dazed), Jenkins (still bleeding), Roche, LaCroix, Jaime (still bleeding), and three other Africans liberated from Raymond Smith¡¯s plantation. No sign of Isaacson or any others.


    Laurier looked at Dobbs, whose face was a mask. He wondered if vengeance had been as satisfying for the young man as it had been for him that night on the Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge. He wondered how it happened. Wondered if Isaacson had seen what was coming, and why.


    ¡°I see something,¡± said Dobbs pointing.


    Laurier looked where he was gesturing and saw, by grace of a double-bolt of forked red lightning, a shape moving along the pier. He strained his eyes, but the dark form was hunched over, impossible to make out, and soon vanished. He wanted to believe it was Benjamin but it had been so long now¡­He probably drowned. Please, say it was only drowning, and that it was quick, and that he won¡¯t return as another Spectre¡ª


    Two men appeared on the Lively¡¯s deck carrying lanterns. The large form of a man, which he assumed was Jacobson, appeared to be directing them to get back aboard. They moved quickly to the quarterdeck and aft castle. Two or three of them looked like they were about to climb the ratlines. Laurier knew what this meant. They¡¯d all seen and heard the battle moving far off, into Bull Bay, and Jacobson wanted to weigh anchor and launch Lively from the pier. He desirous to engage and destroy the Hazard.


    ¡°And there,¡± Dobbs said, gesturing to the bowsprit, where just then, it appeared some dark shape had leapt from the pier and grabbed hold of the side netting, then disappeared around the bowsprit. ¡°Is it him, Captain?¡±


    The Ladyman said nothing. He would not allow himself to hope.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s a-comin¡¯,¡± Jenkins said.


    Laurier turned and saw where the portly man was pointing. Just now, along the main pier of the North Docks, six or seven men were approaching on foot, hobbled in chains. At first he thought they must be African slaves but another flash of lightning revealed they were white men, and behind them were four redcoats, rifles out. The bayonets prodded the prisoners forward.


    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± said Dobbs.


    Laurier shook his head. The newcomers approached the Lively and another flash of lightning revealed they were being led up the gangplank. He squinted. For a moment he was sure he made out a familiar form, tall and absurdly lanky. Tyndall. Scarecrow, they call him on the Lively, if I¡¯m not mistaken. Then Laurier realized who the rest of them must be. ¡°Some of Lively¡¯s crew. No doubt Dawson is among them.¡± He nodded, watching one of the hobbled forms directed to the quarterdeck and to the steering. ¡°Rogers must¡¯ve needed a crew ready to go, someone who knows how to handle Lively. Jacobson¡¯s her captain now, but Lively is undermanned. Rogers prepared for this. Ben¡¯s crew are being forced to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I see ¡¯im!¡± Jaime exclaimed. ¡°There! The fuckin¡¯ Devil¡¯s Son! Seen ¡¯im right there, just past the coaming.¡±


    ¡°I did, too,¡± Anne wheezed, still rubbing her bleeding head. ¡°Saw him just before one of the fuckers near the aft castle went overboard. Don¡¯t think anybody saw him.¡± She bared her left breast and spread blood over it in the shape of a pentagram.


    ¡°That¡¯s one down, then,¡± said Dobbs smiling.


    Laurier looked back at the Lively. Not daring to hope.


    ____


    Don¡¯t hide in obvious places, his mother had taught him when dragging him out of the outhouse by his ears, even if the unobvious ones are more uncomfortable. The best hiding places will hurt you or frighten you to stay in them. Hanging from the portside railing had definitely hurt, the keel bent away and went under the water, leaving nothing below him but the choppy black waves. So, Benjamin dangled there, fingers aching, bayonet clenched between his teeth, waiting for the lanternlight above to recede and for a voice to approach in the dark.


    When both those things happened, he pulled himself up enough to put one foot on the railing beside his right hand, then, slowly, he pulled himself through the gap in the railing. The young man was skinny, and had just leaned his rifle against the place where the capstan bars were stored. Benjamin kept low, snuck up behind him, then sprang up and clapped one hand over the young man¡¯s mouth and jabbed the blade deep into neck while pulling them both over the rail.


    He and the young slammed into the water. His cat¡¯s-eye caught side of the large bulbous eyes moving around, just beneath the waves. Ben withdrew his blade and kicked his enemy away and watched him clutch his throat as he sank and vanished. Ben resurfaced, grabbed a breath, and dove back under and swam around to the starboard side of the prow, hoping Lawrence Burr hadn¡¯t yet freed himself.


    He climbed the ladder on the starboard side, shimmied sideways to the netting, climbed until he was once more at the railing, but this time on the side of the pier.


    That¡¯s when he heard the voices. And chains rattling. Turning, he saw Dawson, Scarecrow, and one or two others he recognized all cuffed in manacles, being escorted down the pier by four of the King¡¯s Militia. He hugged the netting tightly, hoping luck remained on his side and lightning did not reveal him. The three moons might be enough to do it, the clouds still swirling like water around a drain, and the moons gazed down on the whole world. But the rain might keep him hidden.


    And then, hanging there, Vhingfrith had to chuckle. He had just realized that the militiamen had brought him reinforcements. Just need to give Dawson and the others a chance¡­


    Lively heeled side to side. He noticed Jacobson disappear belowdecks. The rest of the crew put hands to braces and attended the capstan to weigh anchor.


    He waited for a moment when no one was watching, when the crewmen were all interacting with the militiamen and the prisoners, then Benjamin leapt from the netting, landed with soft knees on the deck and shuffled up behind the mizzenmast. There was a dead body by his foot. Laurier¡¯s cook, Reginald, lay on his side, bleeding from his gut, eyes vacant.


    Vhingfrith peeked around the mast and spied two men getting ready to ascend the ratlines. One of them was telling the other how slippery it was going to be, and to be careful. Their backs were to him. Vhingfrith slipped out from shadow and slashed their throats. Though the cat¡¯s-eye allowed him to see them, neither of them ever saw him. They both clutched their necks and opened their mouths, but they could only gargle on their own blood. One of them fell on his stomach into a pile of rope, and Vhingfrith saw a pistol tucked into his waistline. He took the pistol and retreated back behind the mizzenmast. Peeking around, he saw Dawson being led up to the steering.


    They were getting ready to shove off. Time was short.


    Vhingfrith slinked behind a barrel of rice, hunkered down, and waited. He tucked the pistol in his waist. Looked up at the clouds, at the moons.


    Footsteps.


    Another crewmen happened near him, and when lightning struck, he looked over at the two dead bodies beside Reginald¡¯s. The fellow must¡¯ve been confused, wondering if these dead men had always been here. That confusion cost him, and Vhingfrith rushed him. The crewman turned, though, perhaps having sensed his doom, and Vhingfrith clapped his hand over his enemy¡¯s mouth and jabbed his knife in his throat and twisted and slashed outwards.


    ¡°Oi!¡± someone screamed. ¡°There! There¡¯s someone over there!¡±


    This was it. As far as he could go. The crewman rushed him from the forecastle and brandished a cutlass. Vhingfrith drew the pistol, cocked it, took cover behind the mizzenmast once more and then peeked around to fire when the enemy was close enough. The round tore through the man¡¯s throat and sent him spinning to the deck. Vhingfrith leapt to his body, lifted the man¡¯s cutlass, and backed away from the ten or twelve forms he saw rushing him. Five. I killed five. Perhaps that will be enough.


    Darkness was still on his side. He could see them all clearly, but they lost him in the rain and the shadow of the mizzenmast. He maneuvered behind barrels, around masts, ducking, even as the enemy spread out across the deck. ¡°Find him!¡± someone yelled. ¡°Find the bloody bastard!¡±


    Where are you, John? You must¡¯ve heard the pistol¡ª


    A young crewman spotted him. Rushed him.


    ¡°Dawson!¡± he screamed. ¡°Scarecrow! Fight! Fight now! Fight for your fucking lives or else be tossed into Davy Jones¡¯s locker!¡±


    The deck erupted into chaos. Vhingfrith shuffle-stepped backwards against his first two attackers and parried their attacks. One of them slashed him across the arm. His cat¡¯s-eye found Jacobson emerging from the forecastle and running to join. Someone fired a pistol from somewhere but missed him. Vhingfrith parried another attack, cut one of his enemies across his brow, and received a jab to his own left thigh. Jacobson was coming on fast, leaping over barrels, cutlass in one hand, dagger in the other. Galbraith was right behind him. The look of vicious vindication on Jacobson¡¯s face told he was going to savour this.


    But a shot rang out. A round ripped through Galbraith¡¯s skull and he fell forward, dead as a doornail. Jacobson spun, and saw the very thing Vhingfrith had been praying for. The Ladyman and his half-dozen pirates stormed the deck of the Lively, blades out, screaming.

 Chapter 45: Jacks Turn

    auchs ¨C An overhead parry done by holding the sword high above one¡¯s head, with the blade tip pointed at the enemy and slightly downward. Meant to have the enemy¡¯s blade impact high, near the practitioner¡¯s hilt, allowing the enemy¡¯s blade to slide down the length of the practitioner¡¯s blade, leaving the enemy open for attack.


    WHOEVER THE CAPTAIN of that ship is, Okoa thought, gazing at the Edinburgh moving swiftly through beams of moonlights, he is clever. Savagely clever.


    Just moments ago, the Edinburgh had moved away from the Hazard and fired on her, but purposely missed, it would seem, while still coming close. At first this made no sense to Okoa, and he worried he¡¯d somehow fallen into a trap. But then he realized the ploy. The two ships coming straight towards them had been too far away to see the Edinburgh betray the other two brigs, and so her captain was keeping up the ruse of firing upon the pirate sloop-of-war.


    Okoa sensed he was being asked by the fifth-rate¡¯s captain to do the same. To keep up his end of the ruse, Okoa commanded his men to fire upon the Edinburgh, but to make sure the shots either went too low or too high. In response, the Edinburgh broke off, bearing west away from the Hazard, as though she was wounded and needed to peel away. But she kept on a parallel course with the Hazard and still fired wildly and uselessly.


    ¡°Mr. Okoa?¡± said Irwin, who was wrestling with the wheel. The current kept wanting to take them northwest, against the wind, slowing them down to a sluggishly fatal speed. They would be easy pickings for those ships trying to catch up.


    ¡°Steady on, Mr. Irwin.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not gonna take much more o¡¯ this from me, Quartermaster! She¡¯s fighting me! Think we must¡¯ve taken a nick to our rutter, sir! She¡¯s not handling right¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stay on your course, Mr. Irwin, on your life. We won¡¯t get a second chance at¡ª¡±


    The forward guns from the two ships of the line boomed, and cannon shot ripped through their belly, across their deck, slicing a man in half and tearing the arm off another. They¡¯d just come in range of the Hazard, and had tested that range. Now they would reload and fire posthaste, while their broadside battery teams would prepare to fire as they streaked past. But the Edinburgh suddenly moved in, suspiciously slow at first, then gaining speed. When the two enemy vessels were about a hundred yards out, Edinburgh passed in front of them, between Hazard and her enemies. Surely the captains of those enemy vessels thought Edinburgh had only made a mistake in course correction, and held their fire a moment so as not to hit a friendly.


    A moment after Edinburgh fired her starboardside cannons at the oncoming ships, she heeled suddenly to starboard, fighting against winds and currents. The oncoming ships, to their credit, broke away from the shocking attack, splitting up in different directions. But by this time Edinburgh already had the speed and circled one of them, evened out, and fired again from her broadsides, raking the English vessel before moving on to the next one.


    ¡°Mr. Irwin¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know what to do!¡±


    Irwin turned them hard to port, bringing their own portside batteries (such as they were now, what with so many injured, dead, or thrown overboard) to bear on the enemy.


    ¡°Fire!¡±


    The firing line could not have been more disorganized, firing almost simultaneously, which was bad, as it put too much strain on the ship¡¯s timbers and knocked them off course and forced Irwin to fight even harder against the steering. But by God, it sure shocked the crew of the English vessel. They passed so close Okoa saw the disarray on deck. The moonlights showed a dead man hanging over the enemy¡¯s rail. One of the masts was busted nearly to splinters, about to snap and fall like a tree in the woods. Her rigging sagged pitifully, like a spider¡¯s web thrashed by a careless animal.


    ¡°A-hoooo-raaaahhh!¡± the Hazard¡¯s crew shouted madly. Haggard, half dead, exhausted, and this close to Fiddler¡¯s Green, they rallied and cheered and readied their cannons for another salvo.


    Percussive hits sounded across the water. Edinburgh had raked the other ship and was chasing her down. Okoa thought again that all of this must be a dream. Why was a fifth-rate vessel helping them? There was no way it was a pirate vessel. And even if it was, even if some madman had taken control of it and set to sea, why in all of Hell had it allied itself with the pitiful, condemned pirate crew of the Hazard?


    A shot whistled over their heads. More booms sounded across the water.


    ¡°Mr. Okoa!¡± Belmont shouted.


    Okoa had almost forgotten the militiaman was there. Moments before, Belmont had saved his life, kept him from being washed overboard. Now the militiaman sagged against the stern railing and pointed north. ¡°They¡¯re still coming!¡±


    Okoa looked. Yes, indeed, the Edinburgh had bought them some time, but the winds and currents and misfires with the cannons had thrown the Hazard off course enough that she was no longer aligned with the wind. Her speed was cut dramatically and now the enemy was catching up again. And the Edinburgh was preoccupied a quarter-mile west, chasing the other ship away.


    ¡°What do we do, sir?¡± asked Irwin, straining so hard that Belmont had now gone over to help him with the wheel.


    ¡°We make for Bull Bay.¡±


    ¡°Sir, we¡¯re not going to make it that far.¡±


    ¡°We make it to Bull Bay, Mr. Irwin, or we never see sunrise again!¡±


    ____


    The battle aboard the Lively was reminiscent of that aboard the Nuestra Se?ora de la Purificaci¨®n, where the ship swayed in stormy waters while wind and rain whipped the fighters¡¯ faces and men slid across the wet deck and it was difficult at times to tell friend from foe. Laurier¡¯s blade parried that of a militiaman¡¯s, he shoulder-charged his foe¡¯s chest and sent him into Roche¡¯s path, who hacked the man¡¯s skull with his axe. Laurier parried another attack, side-stepped the next, spun around the next, front-kicked one man in the stomach and shuffled sideways to attract many different attacks. He delayed them, gave Akil and the others time to come up the gangplank behind him.


    Lively heeled. Loose barrels of rice rolled towards him. He stumbled over one, leapt over another, charged an enemy so hard he tackled him and shoved him overboard.


    ¡°For the Ladyman!¡± shouted Jaime.


    ¡°A-HOO!¡±


    ¡°For the bloody fucking Hazard!¡± cried Jenkins.


    ¡°A-HOO!¡±


    And now they moved about in a gnashing of blades and pressing bodies. Someone cut Laurier across his right thigh, stabbed his left shoulder. Akil grabbed a militiaman by his throat and lifted him off his feet and flung him bodily overboard. Bogoa and Mosi each ran into the fray, using what machetes and knives they had. Jaime fired his pistol into the face of an oncoming enemy, and behind him Osterholm, the Lively¡¯s quartermaster, was still hobbled in chains, but that didn¡¯t stop him from throwing himself at a man with a hatchet. Anne, weeping as she always did in battle, ran and tackled another enemy and dragged him to the ground, wrestling him for his sabre. Noala grabbed the sword off the man Jaime had shot and ran into the fray, her baby screaming on her back.


    Laurier saw Jacobson amid the chaos, slashing across Scarecrow¡¯s face as the tall surgeon tried to hit him with his chains. And beyond Jacobson, Benjamin was near the prow, his back against the railing as two men flanked him.


    John shoved his way past a militiaman, parried his next opponent high with auchs, stomped his foot, head-butted him, and pushed him towards Dobbs who skewered the man with his bayonet. Someone slashed at John¡¯s face, came awfully close, but his Corrupted hand snatched the blade in mid-stroke, and held on to it, while he rammed his blade through the teeth of his attacker and sent him to the deck. Someone else swung a dagger at him and, without thought, John raked his talons down the man¡¯s arm, fileting his flesh before gouging one of his eyes.


    A few of his enemies now pulled back, dismayed by the speed of his Corrupted hand and the ferocity of his claws. Anne hamstrung a man with her dagger. Roche opened a man¡¯s skull with a ferocious cut. All around him was screaming and blood and madness.


    He turned. Saw Jacobson stab Jaime in the leg with a dagger before punching him in the face with the pommel of his sword. Jaime fell backward and Jacobson brought his sword up to gut him. Just then Anne charged into Jacobson and rammed him and knocked him sideways. Jacobson turned and elbowed Anne on the bridge of her nose, stunning her, sending her to the deck.


    ¡°Jacobson!¡± the Ladyman bellowed.


    Euric Jacobson paused for only a moment, enough for him to see Laurier coming and prepare himself. Enough time for Jaime and Anne to crawl away.


    They sized one another up for only a moment. Only a heartbeat. Then Jacobson came forward with a series of questing moves, first with sword, then punching out with his dagger to slap Laurier¡¯s blade away. Then Jacobson smiled savagely and leapt at him. Their blades crossed and sang their one-note song. Jacobson parried easily using his sword, stabbing viciously with his dagger, glancing off John¡¯s ribs once. But the Corrupted hand wielded the cutlass one-handed and spun it in confusing patterns. Jacobson¡¯s smile wavered.


    ¡°There! Ready the line!¡± someone cried. ¡°Ready the bloody line¡ª¡±


    John swung around in time to see a horrifying sight. Africans, all running up the gangplank and forming up firing lines at the portside rail. They all carried rifles and aimed them at the pirates. All of the pirates, including Jacobson¡¯s people. And they were led by none other than Captain Woodes Rogers, who was unfolding the last stage of his trap, it seemed, and shouting above the storm¡ª


    ¡°Ready! Aim!¡±


    ¡°Seize them!¡± John cried and some of his pirates tackled the Africans before they could fire. Akil took one down and another fired wildly and missed. The rest of them got their shots off and John couldn¡¯t tell who they hit. Then Rogers¡¯s Africans drew sabres and charged Akil¡¯s men, who looked befuddled to be fighting their own kind¡ª


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    Jacobson rushed Laurier. A dying African fell in his way and Jacobson shoved him to one side.


    Woodes Rogers leapt into the fray with his sword singing.


    Someone bumped into Laurier, setting him off his balance. It was LaCroix, having been knocked back by an enemy. Jacobson seized the opportunity and slashed at his neck. A glancing blow. Laurier felt blood trickling down his collar. He parried the next attack and slashed with such speed he surprised himself and lopped off Jacobson¡¯s left ear, but his enemy merely growled and kept coming forward.


    Parry, thrust, parry, parry, push-step, shuffle-step, parry, thrust, thrust, parry, thrust¡ª


    The flurry of attacks and defensive moves had Laurier breathing heavy. More than once, the Corrupted hand saved him by being able to catch the blade or parry it. Laurier wielded the cutlass for a moment in his left hand, parried, and slashed out with his right hand, the talons ripping Jacobson¡¯s face. Blood ran rivers down his enemy¡¯s face¡ª


    Someone grabbed John¡¯s hair. Yanked him backward. Brought a dagger down to his neck but the Corrupted hand snatched it just in time and twisted it from his attacker¡¯s hand. The butt of Dobbs¡¯ rifle bashed the attacker¡¯s skull and sent him to the deck, where Noala skewered him with her sword. For a moment Laurier met Rogers in the fracas, their swords met briefly before other fighters pushed in between them and Rogers swung around to face off against Akil. Laurier saw Rogers draw a pistol and prepare to fire.


    ¡°Akil¡ª¡±


    But the African war chieftain batted the pistol away before it fired. Then he grabbed Rogers by his throat and lifted him and threw him ignominiously overboard.


    John felt blood trickling down his neck. The dagger had only gone in an inch. Another inch, and he¡¯d be dead.


    The last few moments had delayed him long enough that Jacobson had time to recover and he launched himself at Laurier, who prepared himself¡ª


    Suddenly, Jenkins slammed into Jacobson by mistake, pushed by some other foe, and Jacobson whirled and slashed Jenkins¡¯s throat in a motion so fast it was nothing but a blur, then turned back to Laurier, who screamed and charged at him. They parried each other¡¯s sword and caught the wrist of each other¡¯s secondary-weapon hand. Head-butted one another. Spun around and around, locked like deer and their antlers. Jacobson shoved him up against the capstan. A chain whipped around Jacobson¡¯s neck and yanked him off the Ladyman. It was Dawson, trying to choke the man, but before Laurier could attack, Jacobson pushed his rump into Dawson¡¯s waist, lifted him bodily, and performed a hip throw and Dawson was flung to the deck. A vicious kick to Dawson¡¯s head stunned him, just as the Ladyman leapt over him to tackle Jacobson. Laurier¡¯s momentum sent them both tumbling down the ladder, down into the darkness of the forecastle.


    Lively was suddenly struck by a rogue wave, which washed up over the deck and leaked down into the forecastle, right when Laurier had stood to his feet and stumbled backward into a swinging hammock. Jacobson stood, his foot temporarily snagged in a rope some careless sailor had left lying about.


    Their blades met, and they quested for tactical openings as more water rushed in. In near dark, Laurier could barely make out his enemy, some of their slashes either missed or landed by pure chance. Laurier managed to catch the dagger hand with his Corrupted hand, gripped it, heard bones pop as Jacobson howled and dropped the dagger and head-butted Laurier again. Laurier heard his own nose crunch. Felt blood running over his lips. Tasted it. He drove a knee into Jacobson¡¯s gut, creating space, shin-pressed his lead leg and reaped him, sending him to the deck. Jacobson rolled away from the downward thrust, sprang up, parried Laurier¡¯s next attack and performed a gissard on the second one. His blade glided down Laurier¡¯s and stuck him in the stomach.


    The blade went in deep. John screamed.


    ¡°You¡¯re dead now, Ladyman! Tell the Devil that Euric Jacobson was better than you!¡±


    Then he heard someone else screaming. Laurier turned and saw a boy of maybe ten or eleven, a brown mop of hair, coming out of the darkness with a pistol. The boy pointed the pistol and for a black instant John thought he would die to some stowaway or cabin boy. But when the shot was fired it sliced through Jacobson¡¯s right ear and he cried out.


    In a flash, the Corrupted hand grabbed the blade. Held it in place. Didn¡¯t remove it, didn¡¯t even try to disarm it. Laurier¡¯s blade came up fast in his left hand and he drove it into Jacobson¡¯s gut. Drove it up, up, up, and each time he did Jacobson¡¯s mouth opened wider in a silent scream. He twisted, mangling his enemy¡¯s insides. Then Jacobson let go of his own sword and pulled away. Laurier¡¯s cutlass remained where it was, covered in blood. Jacobson kept staggering backward until he stumbled and landed in a sitting position in someone¡¯s hammock. He swung there a moment, holding his bleeding stomach.


    Laurier caught his breath. A dull wonder that he had somehow survived first made itself manifest. He had never fought one so savage and clever with a blade, not even Capit¨¢n Del Campo.


    Slowly, the Corrupted hand removed the blade from his belly, almost of its own volition. Panting, he gave one last look at Jacobson, then all his thoughts drained from him and he existed in some place between dream and reality. Then he gasped from the pain in his gut, and his thoughts went to one thing. Ben! He was still up there on the deck, possibly still surrounded.


    Laurier swung round and looked at the boy that had saved him, huddled there in a dark corner with smoking pistol clutched in his hands. He was weeping. When Laurier started up the ladder, Jacobson called out, ¡°Ladyman!¡±


    He glanced over his shoulder.


    ¡°In this new world¡­with this new order¡­I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be seeing¡­each other¡­again. Dead is not dead anymore. Or hadn¡¯t you heard? Dead¡­is¡­is not¡­¡± He gave a brief spasm, then sagged back into the hammock. His eyes flashed purple. ¡°Dead isn¡¯t¡­it¡¯s not¡­¡± He spasmed again. ¡°It¡¯s very cold¡­just like Da said¡­when he died at our home¡­by the river¡­it¡¯s very¡­very¡­¡±


    Laurier didn¡¯t hear the rest. He turned and ran up the steps. The numerous head-butts had caused him dizziness and when he came up to the deck he was seeing doubles for a moment. Blurry trails. Especially if he turned his head too quickly.


    He saw Jenkins lying on the ground, his throat opened and gushing. Dobbs fought side-by-side with Bogoa. Mosi was gone, Laurier couldn¡¯t find him. Roche was still taking his axe to the same man he¡¯d killed when he first came aboard, not caring the man was already a corpse. Laurier let him be and ran to help Vhingfrith, who had gotten some help from Akil and LaCroix, fighting off five swordsmen. Laurier ran past Dawson, who was on the deck, straddling an enemy¡¯s chest, strangling the fellow with his chains. Scarecrow had survived and was bleeding badly, also strangling someone with his chains.


    Laurier came up behind one of the men flanking Vhingfrith and ran him through, yanked out his blade, and stabbed a talon into the eye of another foe. He shuffle-stepped towards another, forcing the man to back up, trip over barrels, and fall to the deck, where Laurier skewered him.


    Two men jumped over the rails, into the water, and another pair of men escaped the Lively on the gangplank. Of the Africans Rogers had broad aboard to help him, half a dozen threw their weapons to the ground and dropped to their knees in surrender.


    John caught Ben¡¯s eyes. The one twinkling cat¡¯s-eye was eerie and beautiful in the moonlights. Drenched in blood and rain, John walked over to him. It looked like Ben was going to say something, but before he could the Ladyman grabbed him by collar and pulled him in and kissed him. All over the deck, men were calling out their injuries. Someone hollered out that Mosi had been knocked overboard, but they were fishing him out of the drink.


    Laurier barely heard this. He held his companion close, not caring about the monsters or the Behemoth still stomping across Port Royal or Noala¡¯s baby¡¯s cries or Jacobson¡¯s promise to see him again or that brief flash of purple in the man¡¯s eyes or any of it. For a moment, all of time evaporated, and the ship bobbed there on the water, amid a lagoon of shadows and swirling rain and unnatural moons.


    When he finally pulled his lips away from Benjamin¡¯s, John said, ¡°Sink me. You did it.¡±


    ¡°We did it,¡± Vhingfrith said. He stared at Laurier a moment longer, then suddenly barked out, ¡°You there! Look lively! Get you to the steering, Mr. Dawson! Dobbs, I understand you¡¯re a good man to have in the crow¡¯s nest! Let¡¯s see it! You,¡± he pointed to the Africans, ¡°to the capstan bars! Weigh anchor! You there, Scotsman, I forget your name¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Jai¡ª¡±


    ¡°Take Bonny and whoever else up to the mizzen, these men only got their sheets half free. Handsomely now!¡±


    ¡°I only take orders from the Ladyman!¡± said Jaime. ¡°An¡¯ ¡¯ow about a fookin¡¯ thank yeh, eh? You damn ungrateful bastard! We came all this way for you! Ye¡¯re the reason ¡¯alf my mates are dead!¡± Jaime limped over to Vhingfrith, clutching his bleeding leg. ¡°We¡¯re at the end o¡¯ the bloody fookin¡¯ world an¡¯ ye¡¯re out ¡¯ere barkin¡¯ orders like some¡ª¡±


    ¡°Jaime!¡± the Ladyman shouted.


    Everyone stopped and looked at Laurier.


    ¡°Do as he says. We have to push off. Now. Just do as he says and let¡¯s get underway you rotten fucking scallywags. After all,¡± he added, clutching his bloody nose, ¡°it¡¯s his ship. Now, someone search the bodies of these redcoats, one of them must have the keys to the prisoners¡¯ chains. Mr. Akil?¡±


    ¡°Captain?¡±


    ¡°Where is Woodes Rogers?¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°The man you threw overboard.¡±


    Akil looked over the railing. ¡°He gone, Captain.¡±


    John looked around at the half-dozen Africans Rogers had brought with them, all on their knees looking confused and frightened. ¡°If you would please, tell these men they can choose to remain here and continue to serve Woodes Rogers, or they can take the same deal you did and come with us. They¡¯re either slaves or they are pirates, I can do nothing else for them.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Captain.¡±


    John looked around at the rest of his pirates. Injured as they were, they had no time for their sorrows, no time to lick their wounds. But some of them were still stunned to inaction.


    ¡°What are you all looking at? I said move!¡±


    Some started to shuffle, but weren¡¯t too sure about obeying Captain Vhingfrith.


    John pointed north¡ªhe pointed with his index finger¡¯s talon. ¡°Look there.¡± They all turned and saw the Behemoth sprouting branches, which lengthened minute by minute, stretching up into the sky, spreading yellow-glowing clouds. ¡°Yonder is the doom of us all. And you¡¯ve all witnessed the Devil¡¯s work tonight while in Royal. But Royal may be dead now, and we have to leave her.¡± He pointed out to sea, where they heard the thunder of cannonfire. ¡°Because out there is Liberalia! You hear me? Libertalia! And out in that bay is the Hazard, and she needs us. Now be about your work, you bloody scallywags!¡±


    There was only a moment¡¯s hesitation, then they started moving, and quickly. Anne moved spryly up the ratlines, and Jaime, after giving Vhingfrith a baleful stare, was right after her, as was Noala. Akil, Bogoa, and Mosi manned the capstan to raise the anchor. Roche was still hacking the corpse to a mulch. Dawson was working the wheel even as the stunsails bloomed. Maxwell, Lively¡¯s cook, was among the chained prisoners, and seemed to be the only person unhurt, and so he and Osterholm attended Scarecrow, pressing cloth against the surgeon¡¯s bloodied face and neck.


    John felt a hand on his right arm. He turned. Ben¡¯s hand trailed down his arm, touching his Corrupted hand. John hadn¡¯t felt it. He looked down and pulled away from him.


    ¡°There¡¯s a boy,¡± John said. ¡°Down below. He saved me when Jacobson just about had me. Send someone to help him. Looks scared.¡±


    Ben nodded to someone and they went running down to the forecastle.


    Cannons roared on the water. Out there somewhere, the Hazard was still fighting.


    When the Ladyman walked past Dobbs the young man was hunched over Jenkins¡¯s body, holding his hands. ¡°He¡¯s gone, sir. Him and Tomlinson, they were the ones saved me from Isaacson.¡±


    ¡°And Isaacson?¡±


    Dobbs looked up at him. Said nothing.


    Laurier nodded. ¡°Then the whole wicked chapter is over. Come, we may yet survive this day, and get you that wife in the Colonies. Yo-ho, Mr. Dobbs.¡±


    Dobbs reached down and closed Jenkins¡¯s eyes. ¡°Yo-ho, Captain.¡±


    ____


    Jack hid from the pirate that came below and called out to her. ¡°Boy? You there?¡± She kept to the dark and looked over at the body of the man she¡¯d helped kill. She still held the pistol out in case anyone came for her. The pistol was not reloaded, it could not fire again, and yet she pointed it at the pirate who walked past her hiding spot unknowingly.


    And when she felt the ship lurch, Jack felt fear like she hadn¡¯t felt before. She¡¯d never left home, never been away from Port Royal. And now that she was finally leaving she didn¡¯t want to. It meant leaving Mother and Father behind in their graves, with the candle for Mr. Cowert¡¯s memory resting there, forever unlit, and her treehouse falling into disrepair, and the dogs left alone. But it also meant leaving the horrors she had seen, the Monsters that had been walking the streets. When all the mayhem had begun she could only think of getting away, and ran to the only place she could think might be safe. She had hidden here before the sailors came, had listened while the first group came and fought and died, and then the second group.


    Jack had saved the Ladyman. And she knew it was the Ladyman despite him not wearing his usual feminine garb, because the man she¡¯d killed had called him that during their fight. In an instant, Jack had a decision to make. She knew that someone would have control over the Lively in a few moments, and that she would be stuck onboard. Now she felt the ship heeling to starboard, heard water sloshing in the bilge below.


    She closed her eyes and thought of Father, and sang the chanty he sang whenever he took her down to the docks to meet the other sailors. ¡°As I was walking down the street / A pretty young damsel I chanced to meet / Weigh, hey now¡­Weigh¡­hey now¡­¡±


    Soon, she heard cannon fire getting closer.


    ¡°Weigh, hey now.¡±

 Chapter 46: The Final Push

    abaft ¨C Toward the back end or stern of the boat.


    THE LAST SHOT clipped the top of the mizzenmast, nearly killing the man up in the crow¡¯s nest. Okoa heard the call from below, ¡°We¡¯re taking on water!¡± and was just about to call for men to work the bilges, and to rush down with oakum and tar and wooden wedges to stop up the holes. But it doesn¡¯t matter now, he thought. We are below a skeleton crew, and cannot spare a man. We need every man on cannons. Our only chance is to¡ª


    ¡°Mr. Okoa?¡± said Belmont, wrestling the steering wheel with Irwin. ¡°We¡¯re going to sink if we don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Our only chance is to fight them off, hopefully wear them down. No other choice. Pray the Edinburgh can get here in time!¡± He called down to the cannoneers. ¡°Ready guns! Ready them, lads!¡±


    Another tall wave hit them, pitched them sideways, the water took Okoa¡¯s foot and pegleg out from under him and he slid down the stairs, clinging to the railing. For a moment he was underwater and heard naught but the rush of water over his ears. Something hit him in his chest, something hard, some piece of debris slung about the deck. It sucked the wind out of him and he breathed water. Hazard corrected herself and he recovered, spitting up seawater, scrambling abaft to see if they¡¯d gotten lucky, if the same big wave had taken out their pursuers. No such luck. Edinburgh was coming up behind the two brigs chasing Hazard, but their unlikely ally would not get here in time.


    More shots were fired from the enemy¡¯s bow guns. One of them nicked Hazard¡¯s stern at the waterline, the others barely missed.


    Then there came more thunder. It wasn¡¯t from the sky. He knew the sound of guns but couldn¡¯t believe it, because the Edinburgh had not fired, and their enemies hadn¡¯t had time to reload¡ª


    Suddenly, one of the ships broke off. Over the next few minutes, Okoa saw them firing their rear guns, but nowhere near the Edinburgh¡¯s direction. The Edinburgh herself continued on an easterly course, chasing the other ship, the one that hadn¡¯t fired on her.


    Is there another ship out here? Is it¡ª


    He didn¡¯t dare let himself hope. But for the moment their two pursuers had broken off or become harassed by someone else, so Okoa looked south, towards the tiny islands beyond Bull Bay. If we can make there¡­.if we can just make it to them¡­


    ¡°We may have a chance here, Mr. Okoa!¡± Irwin said. ¡°Just one chance!¡±


    ¡°Ease off the wheel, Mr. Irwin! Broad reach to port¡ª¡±


    ¡°God in heaven!¡± Belmont screamed. ¡°What the bloody fucking hell is that?!¡±


    Okoa ignored the militiaman a moment, then he looked at Belmont. His face was a horror, and he was pointing south, the direction they were going. From there came a large, swirling mass of foaming water, as though the sea was splitting before them. The moonlights and the lightning allowed him to see its sheen, a Monstrous Thing, easily five or ten times the size of a sperm whale. Black and many-tentacled, it swam through the water and sent a cascade of waves over itself. The wave it caused was towering, and it came at them head-on and they climbed it while arching seawater fell over them, drowning them, making it so that Okoa was temporarily swimming.


    He said his prayers. Surely this was it this time.


    Surely this was the end.


    And then the water cleared and he was sloshed against the portside railing as the water nearly swept him overboard. He heard screaming. ¡°Men overboard!¡± He tried to stand. A piece of the Leviathan was still swimming past, a thing with five or six tumorous growths on its back, translucent, with spherical white things swimming around inside them. It took him a moment to realize they were eyes. Enormous, bulging eyes.


    The Leviathan tore through the water, heading towards the Edinburgh and the enemy ships.


    ¡°Men overboard!¡± someone shouted.


    Okoa saw that it was Belmont calling out, his arms clutching one of the spokes of the steering wheel. He sagged there, drenched, spitting up seawater. Belmont was alone. Irwin was gone. Okoa stood and looked all around the heaving water. He thought he saw two or three men bobbing there, trying to swim before being sucked down. He never saw Irwin again. But he did see the second giant wave just before it hit.


    ____


    ¡°It¡¯s him,¡± Vhingfrith said. They had just closed in on one of the brigs chasing Hazard and were preparing to rake her, until Vhingfrith spotted the familiar colossal lump rising up out of the ocean. ¡°It¡¯s him! He¡¯s coming! Brace yourselves, lads! Grab something! Grab hold of anything you can!¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± Laurier said, holding onto the railing. Then he saw the surging wave coming their way. ¡°Who is it, Ben?¡±


    Dawson shouted from the helm, ¡°It¡¯s him, boys! Here comes Ol¡¯ Charley! Brace yourselves, lads! On your lives, brace yourselves! He looks bloody pissed!¡±


    ¡°Benjamin¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not now, John! Grab hold of¡ª¡±


    ¡°What the fuck is¡ª?¡±


    All around, the world became white and gold light, and it took them all a moment to realize what had happened. The clouds were suddenly dispersing, repelled like oil against water, and the three moons shattered like great eggs and their rocky components and dust were scattered across the sky, mottling the stars. Suddenly, the stars began spinning, like the whole World was turning fast on its axis, yet there was no sense of increased motion. The stars streaked into long, thin lines. White clouds dashed against the black ones in retreat. Two suns emerged, one on the east horizon and the other on the north. One of them dipped back below, like a thief being found out. The other one became smudged, like a water-damaged painting, and smeared across the sky before it too vanished.


    All this happened while a Leviathan rose up out of the depths, tentacles stretched far to the heavens, and opened three or four mouths across its midsection and swallowed whole the two ships pursuing the Hazard.


    ____


    The destruction was absolute. Oddsummers watched from the Edinburgh¡¯s quarterdeck as the Leviathan pitched and rolled like a whale, and when it fell back into the sea the waters parted enough so that, briefly, he saw one or two shipwrecks settled on the seabed, and a stir of black, human-like creatures walking their decks, their eyes glowing purple, their flesh gleaming black and red under a final wrathful bolt of lightning.


    Oddsummers held on while Edinburgh heeled. Watched one of his plaguemen go overboard. Once she settled, Edinburgh¡¯s crew cried out jubilantly, and Oddsummers walked her deck calmly, from stern to prow, and stood holding the forestay for balance. He watched in fascination as the Leviathan rolled and rolled in the foaming water. The Sun rose. Their Sun. As did the Moon, now almost full. They rose together with the speed of a gull across the water.


    And then, all at once, the water settled and so did the Sun and Moon and the white clouds piled high on the east horizon. Oddsummers was soaking wet. Water was still sloughing off the deck¡¯s scuppers¡ªit was in his boots and everywhere else. The ship¡¯s timbers moaned. Planks from the destroyed ships floated in the water and scraped against their hull. Ten or twelve men floated in the water, dead, some of them tangled up in rigging.


    Oddsummers looked south about two hundred yards, at the Hazard, bobbing up and down, her sails and rigging all torn and sagging. Oddsummers turned back to his plaguemen, their yellowed flesh looking particularly pale. Most of them leaned on the portside rail, necks craned, looking for another sign of the Leviathan, which had gone, and also looking up at the sky in disbelief.


    But Oddsummers looked yonder at Port Royal, which appeared like a child¡¯s play area and sandcastle destroyed after said child had a tantrum and stormed through it. At the center of the port town was that great three-legged creature, its monstrous arms still stretched to the sky, fingers elongating, branching off into more fingers, and more fingers still, spilling a yellow fog all over the area, blanketing it.


    Oddsummers turned to his first mate. ¡°Mr. Bainbridge, damage report, if you please.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    ¡°Mr. Pullings,¡± he said to his quartermaster. ¡°If you would be so good as to send up the red-and-white.¡±


    The one-armed man winced. ¡°Palaver, sir?¡±


    ¡°Yes. And drop anchor. I¡¯d like to have an audience with the captains of those two ships yonder.¡±


    ¡°Sir¡­beg your pardon¡­but oughtn¡¯t we have palaver farther on, past Bull Bay? Y¡¯know, well out to sea? Them be pirate ships, sir, and we just helped them. If the authorities catch us out here¡ª¡±


    ¡°Mr. Pullings, you are missing an arm, correct? Not an eye? Not your good sense? Look around you, man. What authorities are left in Jamaica? What ships currently dominate Bull Bay if not ours? There is not an ounce of sea but what we now own. I¡¯ve no doubt the authorities will be about, but not at the moment.¡± He pulled his plague mask down from his face and looked at the smashed ships along the Turtle Crawles. ¡°Just send up the red-and-white, Mr. Pullings. That¡¯ll be all.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir. Send up the red¡¯n¡¯white!¡±


    Oddsummers turned back to face the Hazard, already limping towards them, as was the Lively. Doubtless, the captains of those two ships had questions for him. Which was only fair, because Oddsummers had questions for them, too.


    ____


    The men were not singing and dancing like they had been after that first Long Night half a year ago, Laurier noted. After that first Long Night, they¡¯d rejoiced when the sun came back. But not now. Now they realized it was only temporary, that any moment now the sun could simply vanish again, and another Long Night¡ªor worse, an Altered Night¡ªcould return. The Lively pulled alongside the fifth-rate from her portside, and Laurier watched as Hazard slowly, slowly limped along her starboard. He had read the fifth-rate¡¯s name as Edinburgh upon approach, and she did have that clear look of a Scottish make. His curiosity was running wild, his thoughts drawn back to whatever Dawson had meant by ¡°Old Charley,¡± his eyes drawn north to what was left of Port Royal and the Behemoth standing among its ruins, and his emotions torn over Jenkins¡¯s death and his obligation to Dobbs and Anne and Akil and all the others.


    Port Royal has survived tidal waves and earthquakes before, he thought, looking upon the seaport. I daresay it will rise again. But who are its residents now?


    John winced. The pain in his side was occasionally numb, occasionally excruciating. He¡¯d stuffed it with powder to help stop the bleeding but he needed bandages, and soon.


    When they extended a plank and walked aboard the Edinburgh, Laurier went first, followed quickly by Vhingfrith and a handful of pirates. They immediately stepped back onto the plank when they saw the sallow flesh of the plaguemen.


    ¡°Sacr¨¦ bleu,¡± said LaCroix. ¡°They¡¯re all plagued.¡±


    ¡°What in God¡¯s name¡­?¡± said Jaime.


    A dozen sallow-skinned men, their cracked leathery flesh sagging from their bones, stood there looking like the crew of a ghost ship.


    A man stepped forward. He wore a long black coat, black shirt, and black breeches, with thick black boots and a tricorne hat atop a plague doctor¡¯s mask.


    ¡°If you¡¯re a plague ship, you should¡¯ve raised the yellow flag!¡± Laurier growled. ¡°Who the fuck are¡ª?¡±


    ¡°The Ladyman, I presume. And the Devil¡¯s Son? A pleasure, a pleasure. I am Captain Bernardino Oddsummers. You know me¡ª¡®The Villain.¡¯ Let us skip past the part where you deny who I am, skip past the part where you demand to know what I am doing here, skip past the part where I inform you that you¡¯ve not yet said so much as a thankee for helping you, and just get down to business. Shall we?¡±


    Laurier glanced back at Vhingfrith, who said nothing.


    From the starboardside rail came Okoa, Belmont, and three armed crewmen.


    ¡°Ah, good! We¡¯re all here! Shall we talk in my cabin? No? Yours, then.¡±


    Moments later they assembled in the Lively¡¯s captain¡¯s quarters, which had been mostly tossed and robbed of all its books, paintings, and most of its furniture. Only the oak desk remained, probably because Woodes Rogers and his militiamen couldn¡¯t figure out a way of getting it out in one piece. The denuded shelves sat lonely, collecting dust, and Laurier watched as Vhingfrith inspected them. But Laurier never took his eyes off the Edinburgh¡¯s captain. He had removed his plague mask, revealing a handsome face with deep crow¡¯s feet, light-yellow skin, and he walked around the large desk, looking over the charts spread atop them.


    ¡°How queer. You would think they would take these charts,¡± said Oddsummers. ¡°If the thieves who came here had known how valuable these are¡­Is that an actual Sampson?¡± He picked a chart up off the floor and pored over it. ¡°Man was a genius at cartography. Did you know there was a nine-year period when people actually believed the area of California was a massive island, and not connected to the New World at all? Everyone else was fooled because they found no river inlets, which would¡¯ve suggested a connection to the mainland. But Sampson, he¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not Oddsummers,¡± Laurier said, removing his shirt to tie his bandage around his midsection. Benjamin was helping him.


    ¡°I am, indeed, sir.¡±


    ¡°That man is halfway around the world¡ª¡±


    ¡°In the Indian Ocean. And do you know that when I was in the Indian Ocean, most countries looking for me thought I was somewhere in the Pacific. And when I was in the Pacific, they thought I was in the Caribbean. And do you know why?¡±


    Laurier said nothing.


    ¡°No? Neither do I. It wasn¡¯t any cunning on my part, just dumb luck. Although my work with the French did make ol¡¯ Louis happy, even if I never met him, and for a while the King did have his fleets spreading gossip that I was¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why did you help us?¡± Vhingfrith asked, using scissors to cut off the excess of John¡¯s bandage.


    ¡°Good question,¡± Laurier said.


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Oddsummers sighed. He seemed to be looking for a chair to sit in, until he remembered. He walked to the rear window and opened it. ¡°Sun is out. Good God, the feeling of its warmth! Bracing.¡± He looked back at them. Reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of cloth with a rough drawing of an inscription. He laid it down on the desk. ¡°For your inspection, Captains.¡±


    John and Benjamin both stepped forward. John lifted the cloth and inspected its strange letters, then shrugged and handed it to Benjamin who had a much different reaction. ¡°Ben?¡±


    ¡°Where did you get this?¡± asked Benjamin, looking astonished.


    Laurier was now much more interested.


    Oddsummers shrugged. ¡°An ursula.¡±


    ¡°An ursula. You¡¯re benandanti? A ¡®Good Walker¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Of a sort.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a witch?¡± the Ladyman asked.


    ¡°Not really. That¡¯s a misconception of our Order. Our methods are as varied as our ethnicities and nationalities, but our mission everywhere is all the same.¡±


    Vhingfrith paced around the table. ¡°Battle against malevolent forces.¡±


    Oddsummers pointed at him like he¡¯d won a prize and sat on the edge of Ben¡¯s desk. ¡°The goddess Diana guides us hunters, Hermes protects us on our travels.¡±


    ¡°What malevolent forces?¡± Laurier asked. His Corrupted hand touched the sword sheathed at his side.


    Oddsummers¡¯s eyes were drawn to it. ¡°That hand. How did it come to be that way?¡±


    ¡°Answer the question.¡±


    ¡°I am answering the question. You had your hand removed by a creature summoned here to this Earth by malandanti. Bad Walkers.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean they ¡®summoned¡¯ it? Who are the malandanti?¡±


    ¡°Men and women who call out.¡±


    ¡°Call out to whom?¡±


    ¡°To whomever is listening out there.¡± He pointed up. ¡°To the places between the stars, where there awaits great old things, still slumbering from a time before we men ever set foot on the soil God laid down for us. Long before even the dirt was even here, long before there was a sky under which dirt can rest.¡±


    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡±


    Oddsummers tsked, and paced. ¡°You know, I visited your father. Benedict. A decent man who did an indecent thing. To turn away one¡¯s own son like that¡­¡± He shook his head.


    Laurier stiffened. ¡°You¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dead, Captain. Dead and turned into soup. Tam. The other yellow-skinned men you saw on my deck, they¡¯re survivors of the same Disease. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard of it. They survived and I brought them here, all the way across the World, the West Indies, on the Edinburgh, after my last ship foundered in battle against two galleons of His Majesty¡¯s Navy.¡±


    ¡°My father is dead?¡±


    Vhingfrith was watching Laurier, but Laurier kept his eyes focused on Oddsummers.


    ¡°I¡¯m a man of will, Captain Laurier. Not unlike yourselves. I took an iron-sick ship and crewed her with men barely fit to walk and I brought books of physic and medicine and I provided palliative care and attended every fucking ailment along the way. So yes, finding your father was a simple thing. Small. The most trivial. Insignificant.¡±


    ¡°Why did you¡­how do you know he¡¯s dead?¡±


    ¡°Because I sat with him as the Disease slowly devoured him, turning his flesh into soup. Into Tam.¡± Oddsummers reached into his coat and pulled out a vial of some strange pink liquid. ¡°Into this. Take a good look, gentlemen, because this is what awaits us all. This is our future¡ªyours and mine. If not hanged by England or devoured by the Leviathans, then taken by the Disease and transformed into soup. To feed the creatures leaking into our World from another.¡±


    He sat the vial down, and both Laurier and Vhingfrith stepped back from it. Something in his words made it seem as though everything he said was completely true.


    Oddsummers sighed. Scratched his chin. Chuckled. ¡°I was in England by chance, just looking for a way to recover myself. But while I was there, I decided to make the most of it. I¡¯d heard stories, you see, about a man named Munt. Many in France know him, for he has something very special. I think you know what it is, don¡¯t you, Captain Vhingfrith?¡±


    Laurier turned and looked at Vhingfrith, who said nothing, but glanced at back John.


    ¡°It¡¯s a thing that looks very much like the drawing I just gave you, doesn¡¯t it, Captain? That¡¯s because it is a rubbing of the very locket in Mr. Munt¡¯s possession. He showed you that locket, did he not? Captain Levasseur¡¯s locket. And he made you the same offer that he made to your father¡¯s friend, Mr. Blakely, who was never seen again.¡±


    Benjamin shook his head. ¡°How can you know all this?¡±


    ¡°Please. Royal is¡ªwas¡ªthick with spies. We¡¯ve long known Munt was in the Caribbean but that he moves around a lot. Half a year ago, word reached certain years that Munt was often seen engaged with a half-black man, one with a strange glittering eye. And you had made quite the name for yourself writing all those papers on the ¡®firmament¡¯. It wasn¡¯t difficult linking the two. And, of course, I heard about the supposed scandalous relationship between the Devil¡¯s Son and the Ladyman. Who hasn¡¯t now? I wanted to know more about the two of you. So, while I found myself stranded in England for a bit, I turned misfortune into opportunity and, well¡­I learned a great deal about you both.¡±


    Laurier had had enough. ¡°Say what you mean, Captain Oddsummers. Tell us what a benandanti came all this way for.¡±


    ¡°Treasure.¡± He opened a desk drawer. ¡°Oh, look! The fools left some wine. Not very thorough, were they? But then, perhaps they believed the old superstition that it¡¯s bad luck for a ship to be left without wine.¡± He pulled out a bottle and popped the cork. To Vhingfrith, ¡°May I?¡±


    Vhingfrith said nothing and Oddsummers took it as consent and drank straight from the bottle.


    ¡°Treasure?¡± Laurier said. ¡°But you¡¯re a fucking Good Walker. Your whole point is to serve Mankind and be rid of¡ª¡±


    ¡°There are many ways to serve. Some of them allow you to serve yourself along the way. We mean to put an end to the firmament, but while we do, is there any harm in a hunter such as myself turning a profit?¡± He shrugged. ¡°I came here with many different plans, any of them could have worked¡ªone of those plans included possibly allying myself with Lord Hamilton, possibly even Woodes Rogers, using a portion of his fleet to sail the Indian Ocean. But Hamilton rejected my offer by sending men to the graveyard in Port Royal to kill me. Ah well, his loss, your gain. Now all the profits are potentially yours.¡±


    ¡°What profits?¡± John demanded.


    ¡°And what do you mean, put an end to the firmament?¡± Ben asked, stepping forward.


    ¡°The second question first. The benandanti have long had their prophecies about such an event as the firmament. And we even know who turned this World upside-down like this. Faith, you can believe it was the work of malandanti. Others knew it was coming. Avery, Madsen, Teach¡ªthey all saw it coming.¡±


    John had been pacing, but now swung back to Oddsummers. ¡°Blackbeard is a malandanti?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s¡­something else entirely. He is interested in an upset of the established order, while we benandanti wish to set the World aright. It will be a long struggle, a long, terrible war against those forces. But I shouldn¡¯t want your help in all that¡ªafter all, you¡¯re pirates! We will handle that part ourselves, in due time. But in the meantime, I¡¯ll answer your first question. What profit, you ask? Why, Levasseur¡¯s treasure, and what else?¡±


    Laurier tilted his head, and chuckled. ¡°So, you want in on what Munt¡¯s cooking, too.¡±


    Vhingfrith touched his shoulder. ¡°John¡­you know?¡±


    ¡°Munt told me. When last I was in Nassau. He offered me a portion of the treasure if I came to save you.¡±


    Vhingfrith looked confused. Wounded. ¡°So¡­you weren¡¯t actually¡­¡±


    There was a moment of uncertainty and mistrust that transpired, unspoken.


    ¡°When Levasseur was executed,¡± Oddsummers said, ignoring their private quarrel, ¡°he tossed a necklace with a locket into the crowd of people watching. He claimed there was a puzzle to be solved, a kind of map to his treasure. This is that locket¡¯s inscription, or part of it,¡± he said, holding up the cloth rubbing. ¡°Levasseur¡¯s treasure is a blasphemous amount of money. But it¡¯s money that belongs to the French government. They want it back and they¡¯ve hired professional sailors and treasure hunters like me to find it. King Louis is very close with the benandanti. And we¡¯ve gotten close to finding Levasseur¡¯s treasure. We think.¡±


    ¡°Then why haven¡¯t you gone after it?¡± Laurier asked. ¡°If you have a rubbing of the same inscription¡ª¡±


    ¡°Which I paid well for. But it is incomplete. I knew I was coming here to find Munt and the Devil¡¯s Son, but just in case I couldn¡¯t find them, I purchased the next best thing. This here rubbing. And to be sure I could find the Devil¡¯s Son, I came looking for the Ladyman. And to make sure the Ladyman could be reasoned with, I spoke with Benedict Laurier, who told me of your return to England to try and convince him to go into business with Arthur Vhingfrith. You sounded most agreeable to me, your father erred when he turned you away a second time.¡± He looked over at Benjamin. ¡°Where is the locket, Captain Vhingfrith? Please tell me those devils didn¡¯t take it when they arrested you.¡±


    ¡°Munt has it,¡± he said.


    ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡±


    John said, ¡°I saw him in Nassau not two weeks past. I assure you, he still has it.¡±


    Oddsummers took a final swig of the wine and put the cork back in. ¡°Then what are we waiting for? I think my ship ought to lead the way, since both of yours seem ragged at the moment, but I¡¯m not averse to falling back to cover our tails in case¡ª¡±


    ¡°Who said we¡¯re going anywhere with you?¡± Vhingfrith said.


    ¡°Yes,¡± John said. ¡°Who said?¡±


    ¡°I did. And you will. Because you¡¯re both tired. Still bleeding, in fact,¡± he pointed to their various injuries. ¡°I doubt either of you could kill a man fresh as me. Your ships and crews are diminished. Hazard herself may sink within the hour if we don¡¯t hurry to repair her. My sickly crew may look haggard, my dear captains, but they know how to drive oakum and tar into a ship¡¯s wounds. And since I now know where Munt is, I could easily beat you there, for my sails are not so torn as yours.¡±


    He handed them the bottle. Neither of them took it.


    ¡°The firmament phenomenon will boil on, and shall never end except by the light of the benandanti. But this global catastrophe presents itself many benefits in the meantime. Disorganized fleets, mass starvation, countries diminished, the people panicking and unfocused. A more perfect storm of chaos I cannot imagine.¡±


    ¡°To do what?¡± John asked.


    ¡°To make ourselves aggregable. To combine our forces and ravish these seas like no pirates in history. To create a thalassopolis, a city-nation at sea. Libertalia.¡±


    John winced.


    ¡°Libertalia?¡± said Benjamin skeptically. ¡°That¡¯s just some pirate¡¯s fairy tale, a myth of Madagascar.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s where the idea started, but that¡¯s not where it is. Blackbeard¡¯s paradise for pirates is all around us, but it needs funding to solidify. Gold. Lots and lots of fucking gold.¡± Oddsummers smiled. ¡°And there¡¯s the Colonies. Such rebellion waiting to foment there¡ªor, at least, so I¡¯m told. I¡¯ve never been there but word has reached back to me from educated men who have. Imagine it, a entire nation of rebels.¡±


    John was fascinated, despite himself, and despite all his doubts about this man. ¡°Libertalia is real? Is that what you¡¯re saying?¡±


    ¡°Libertalia is a dream, but like any good idea, it grows more real every day.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve met him? You know Blackbeard? Is that where you heard this?¡±


    ¡°Libertalia is Captain Teach¡¯s dream, he first spoke its name into the Universe, but now its promise spreads across the Caribbean, down the West Indies and even up in Havana. But who will build it first? The Pirate Kings? Black Caesar? Teach himself? The benandanti? You?¡± He splayed his hands like he was offering a gift. ¡°All of us?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Benjamin interjected. ¡°A moment ago you wanted to save the World from malandanti and the firmament, and now you want to use piracy to fund a new pirate nation?¡±


    ¡°We already have the Republic of Pirates,¡± John said.


    Oddsummers scoffed, ¡°The ¡®Republic of Pirates.¡¯ Little more that a loose conglomerate of ne¡¯er-do-wells who protect their own territories and claims, and then slap a name on their ships and sometimes vote on things while calling themselves Kings. Men are kept in line by laws, not blood pacts. Papers, official seals, organized government, these things grant legitimacy.¡±


    ¡°We have our own port haven, our own fortress,¡± John said.


    ¡°Nassau is not a strong enough fortress for them. You need something more substantial. More than a haven. A castle. A city. You need something tangible so people can see it.¡±


    Benjamin stepped forward. ¡°You still haven¡¯t answered my question, sir. Why would you want to build a pirate nation here? Why this¡ªthalassopolis, you called it?¡±


    ¡°An empire at sea. It¡¯s existed before, in ancient times. I can again.¡±


    ¡°But¡ªwith Levasseur¡¯s treasure?¡± John shook his head, not understanding. ¡°You¡¯ll build Libertalia as a thalassopolis with it?¡±


    Oddsummers, seeing that they weren¡¯t going to take the wine bottle, placed it back inside the drawer. ¡°I asked your father why you returned to England to speak with him. He said you came to ask him for a favour, on behalf of Captain Arthur Vhingfrith. It seems Arthur Vhingfrith needed money, and was hoping you could arrange a venture between himself and your father. Your father rejected the offer and cast you out a second time, ashamed of what you¡¯d become. But you learned back then, didn¡¯t you, that without money there can never be meaningful enterprise? That was Arthur¡¯s lesson to you.¡± He laughed. ¡°You pirates. You can talk about freedom and truth and liberty, but you cannot fucking cohere into a true fighting force to make it happen. And you never will. Not. Without. Fucking. Gold.¡±


    John looked to Ben, who was staring at Oddsummers.


    Ben said, ¡°Levasseur¡¯s treasure. You want it as an investment?¡±


    ¡°The benandanti hold sway in some King¡¯s Courts, but not many, and not nearly strongly enough. For this battle against the dark forces of the firmament, we will require laboratories, materials, ships for trade and exploration, a safe haven to conduct our work¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your s¨¦ances,¡± Benjamin said. ¡°Your sorcery. You want funding for dark arts.¡±


    Oddsummers said, ¡°I¡¯m going topside now. I¡¯m going to order my men to help your crews with repairs to your ships. You can try to kill me or work with me. We sail within the hour to New Providence. Assuming, of course, we don¡¯t get ourselves another Altered Night. So¡­stay close, my brothers. Don¡¯t want to get lost in the night, and this game has only just started.¡± He walked out of the captain¡¯s quarters, leaving them to stare at one another and stew on how they had few other options.


    ____


    They did not careen. They could not afford to waste the time. They worked on Hazard first because she needed it the most. Spare rigging and masts were brought up from the Edinburgh¡¯s belowdecks, the plaguemen commanded a wide berth in moving the materials and Hazard¡¯s crew were only too happy to give it to them. Useless bits were thrown overboard¡ªbusted rails, destroyed casks and barrels, a cannon that had taken a hit and would never fire again. All three captains removed their shirts and waded through the cold waters in the bilge to take turns either working the pumps or pulling out chipped or destroyed pieces of wood and hammering new sets into place. Men were pressed tight down here, LaCroix had to cling to rafters and shout orders down to the carpenters doing his repairs.


    Shot plugs were used to stem the flow of water. And yet it only got deeper in the bilge. One of the pumps came apart, it had taken a glancing blow and needed repair. Meanwhile, Hazard sat low in the water. And lower.


    And lower.


    Desperate times called for it. They did some fothering of a sail, by sewing pieces of rope fibers, yard, and twine through a spare sail, giving it the look of a quilt before rolling it up tight, increasing the density of the sail. They used the crane Laurier meant to use for the diving bell to lower the fothered sail onto the hole on the outside. Although not watertight, it would slow the leak and give more time to repair the hole.


    Hours went by. The sun rose higher.


    LaCroix found troubling gaps in the planks, and worried the structural damage could be far more severe. To be safe, the Frenchman organized teams to wrap cables around the ship and tightened them using the capstan, closing the gaps between the hull planks.


    Someone finally found the boy that had saved Captain Laurier¡¯s life during all the fighting, he was brought before the Ladyman and questioned. The boy said hardly spoke, other than to say his name was Jack. To Laurier, Jack looked starved and about to snap in two. Laurier thanked him for his courage, and asked if he would like to be taken back to shore by boat. The boy need only look at the Behemoth before he mumbled that he would sooner stay.


    ¡°Do you have any sea legs whatsoever?¡± John asked.


    The boy shook his head. The Ladyman looked him over. There was something about the lad that he found oddly familiar, some small part of him used to playing the impostor. The lad was hiding something, there was some other reason he¡¯d been hiding aboard the Lively, John was certain, but he let it go. At times the boy looked up at him with reverence, with eyes like glass, and a brittle soul equally delicate.


    He could not explain it.


    ¡°Do you think you can work a bilge pump? It¡¯s easy, the lads can show you how. Mr. Dobbs, show this lad how to help with the pump.¡±


    ¡°Aye, sir.¡±


    The bilge pump was repaired and now they were finally making headway. They did some of the repairs while within sight of Port Royal and the Behemoth. The Monster covered the ruins in a yellow cloud. Men and women stood at the rails at times, gawking at the sight of such destruction. Port Royal, the modern-day Sodom and Gamorrah, was at least partly gone, and with it the strange fever dream each of them had had about freedom, about running away from England¡¯s teat. It had been the first true civilization they¡¯d built. Perhaps each of them realized Port Royal had been the umbilical cord still keeping them attached to England, and now it had been severed.


    They were alone now. Exiting their mother¡¯s birth canal, cut loose, utterly abandoned.


    Some of the repairs they did after sailing half a day away. It was near dusk when they finally finished for the night. They were becalmed, on waters so smooth they looked like glass, not a wave to be found.


    They waited to see if it would be another Long Night.


    When dawn came, the men on all three ships rejoiced. Edinburgh took the lead, with Hazard in the middle and Lively beside her and just slightly behind. The weather changed drastically on the third day, with wind and storm clouds and rain moving in fast. They availed themselves of these winds and sailed close-hauled for a day, pausing only to make repairs now to Edinburgh and Lively. Hazard held strong, some of her cables around her middle needed to be tightened again, and some planks split and needed replacing, but all that could be easily done.


    They stopped at tiny islands here and there to careen. Then moved on. Then stopped again on a small, nameless island and careened one last time for repairs. The men went into the woods to chop down trees, the carpenters and the smithees took long shifts to properly carve the materials they needed.


    All this time, the three captains stayed mostly aboard their own ships, constantly keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of enemy sails on the horizon. Whenever they did palaver, they spoke of little more than repairs and speculations about whether or not this was going to be a Long Night.


    They sailed like this for six more days¡ªstop, repair, and then go, stop, repair, and then go¡ªand saw only a small packet ship on the horizon. But its captain must¡¯ve noticed they were sailing pirate latitudes, for it sailed away forthwith. The three pirate vessels remained unvisited again until they came within sight of New Providence.

 Chapter 47: Palaver

    palaver ¨C An improvised conference between two groups, typically those without a shared language or culture.


    NASSAU LOOKED ALMOST completely untouched by the Second Cataclysm¡ªas the crews of the three ships were calling the fate of Port Royal. The docks were in good order, sloops came and went pretty as you please, and the flags upon Fort Nassau snapped in a healthy breeze. Hazard waved her black flags, while Lively and Edinburgh sailed to her port and starboard. The pirates of Nassau would likely assume the Ladyman had taken them each a prize.


    But once they docked, the dockworkers could tell immediately things were off. For one, the Devil¡¯s Son came ashore with the Ladyman. The Devil¡¯s Son was a known privateer, he was not on the account. More, here came a strange, tall gentleman with a plague doctor¡¯s mask and a few crewmen who looked fit for the grave. Their sallow flesh caused rumour to spread fast. It was not long before the Republic of Pirates sent envoys with guns to meet them.


    ____


    Oddsummers remained on the docks by his ship and allowed both Laurier and Vhingfrith to go speak to the welcoming party without him. After a few moments, a fat man waddled out from a hut on the shore, making his way to them. Oddsummers recognized Munt from the descriptions he¡¯d gathered. He waited patiently for his introduction to the Republic¡¯s committee.


    He was not surprised when the welcoming party approached him, guns and sabres drawn, and asked him to lay down his arms and submit himself to arrest. Oddsummers gave a whistle, and over the Edinburgh¡¯s railing came thirty yellow-skinned men, most of them missing valuable body parts, aiming their own weapons at the pirates.


    ¡°I offer a counteroffer,¡± he told the welcoming party. ¡°Let¡¯s have ourselves a palaver, by Jove, what do you say?¡±


    There was general disarray on the docks. Groups of men ran into Nassau to alert more people, but those people they alerted did not seem to know what to do when they reached the Edinburgh¡¯s crew, either. And so those people alerted more people ashore, and this cycle continued until at last they decided to leave the Edinburgh and her crew alone for now. Still, armed men and women waited by the docks, muskets out, waiting in case one of the plaguemen tried to come ashore.


    Oddsummers watched it all from the prow, amused at the posturing.


    The Hazard¡¯s crew was allowed to come ashore and receive medical care. The Lively¡¯s crew seemed somewhat welcomed. Captain Vhingfrith was taken into custody, it seemed, but not shackled, and Captain Laurier stayed with him, leaving Oddsummers all alone against illiterate and superstitious criminals who only gathered news of the world by listening to rumours from afar and followed no laws save those laid down in the Pirate Code. And, as Oddsummers well knew, the Pirate Code really only served as guidelines for how pirates ought to treat other pirates, and it only defined pirates as those on the account, which Oddsummers was not.


    And so, he and his plaguemen waited, weapons drawn, staring at one group after the next that came to view the Edinburgh and the strange yellow-skinned crewmen and their masked captain. When finally someone of import arrived, it was an old African man dressed in lord¡¯s pants and jacket, and an aged Englishman missing all his hair from a bald and sunburnt scalp. ¡°You be Oddsummers, then,¡± said the African.


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°You come with us.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Why no?¡±


    ¡°We have a palaver here,¡± he said, pointing at the Edinburgh. ¡°Aboard my ship. We do it there or nowhere else.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not safe ¡¯ere,¡± said the white man.


    ¡°I understood Nassau had at least one rule when it comes to visiting ships. They¡¯re all safe in this harbour and their crews are to be unmolested unless they break any of the rules set in the Pirate Code. Have I broken any rules?¡± He smiled behind his mask. ¡°The Code keeps you all from slaughtering one another. You ran far and fast to flee England¡¯s laws, but you¡¯ve got to have some laws, neh?¡±


    That ruffled their feathers. The two representatives exchanged glances. Oddsummers tried to guess their positions in the Republic. Some sort of ambassadors? Local governors? Did Nassau even have governors in that sense? He looked beyond the docks to the rising, patchwork, piecemeal port city that went up the slopes and wove into the jungle. Buildings erected by a combination of clever stonework and sloppy woodwork, with planks serving as bridges across rooftops.


    ¡°Tell me when the Pirate Kings have assembled. I¡¯m sure they will soon. They will want to hear the tale of the Ladyman¡¯s assault on the Spanish fort in Panam¨¢ and hear the news from Port Royal. I should like very much to hear it all myself. And when they arrive, you¡¯ll be sure to bring them here. Them, as well as the Ladyman and his sweet love. They will all want to hear what I have to say, if they ever have a dream of making Libertalia a reality.¡±


    ¡°Liber¡­?¡± The black man looked surprised by the word. The white man merely stroked his scarred chin.


    ¡°The World is not yet ending, but it is changing. Tell them that. Tell them that we shall all want to work together for what comes next. Oh! And also, do tell them I have wine aboard the Edinburgh. The finest French wine, straight from Paris. And if they have any bread, ask them to bring it. This should be a day of celebration, faith.¡±


    ____


    Benjamin watched John from the window. John was out there talking animatedly with the pirates. The cabin where the pirates had put Benjamin had a bed, a filthy one covered in stains and reeking of sweat and rum, but Ben needed to lay down. Most of his crew was cooped up in here with him, and Scarecrow was seeing to his wounds. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Scarecrow, you should see to yourself.¡±


    The surgeon touched the hideous gashes on his cheek and neck. He¡¯d talked two of the others through the stitching, and it was jaggedly done, but Scarecrow kept reapplying poultices and assured his captain he was all right. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Captain. How¡¯s the leg?¡±


    ¡°Fine. How are the others?¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess we¡¯re all fine, then. What¡¯s say we set sail for the Colonies tomorrow and never look back?¡±


    Scarecrow snorted. It may have been a laugh.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I got you all into this. We were doing so well.¡±


    ¡°Not your fault, Captain.¡±


    ¡°If it isn¡¯t a captain¡¯s fault that his ship was stolen and all his men were put into a position to be taken prisoner, then at whose feet ought the blame be settled?¡±


    ¡°Not your fault,¡± Scarecrow repeated.


    ¡°It¡¯s all so strange. I feel as if I¡¯m in a dream. Ol¡¯ Charley just showing up like that¡­like he¡¯d been waiting out there to help me in John¡¯s¡ªer, Captain Laurier¡¯s mad escape plan.¡± He shook his head. ¡°And Jacobson.¡±


    ¡°He had it coming, sir. Galbraith and all of them, too.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps so, but I bore the man no ill will. Nor Galbraith. So many dead. And that Behemoth¡­what was it doing to Port Royal? Spreading its arms like that, making that yellow cloud. Like it was taking up root. Like the Monsters from the firmament are planning on making a home here. And what is Ol¡¯ Charley? Is he connected to the Messenger?¡±


    ¡°Messenger, sir?¡±


    Vhingfrith had not told anyone what all he had seen, not all of it. ¡°And I saw Lawrence Burr beneath the waves, Scarecrow. I saw him! I barely escaped him down in the briny deep. He nearly kept me down there with him. What would¡¯ve happened? Would I now be an Apparition like him¡ªow!¡±


    ¡°Sorry, sir,¡± said Scarecrow, tightening the bandage around Vhingfrith¡¯s thigh. ¡°Look, Captain, I¡¯m only a surgeon. I¡¯m not fit to decipher men¡¯s minds. But I know enough to know this: do not dwell on it all.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t dwell on what?¡±


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Nature¡¯s mechanics.¡±


    Vhingfrith snorted. ¡°A man of medicine advising me not to dwell on the natural sciences?¡±


    ¡°Aye, you make of me a hypocrite, and perhaps I am. But it¡¯ll only drive you mad, trust me. I long ago decided to accept the mysteries¡ªWhere does air come from?¡ªIf the heart keeps the blood pumping, what keeps the heart pumping?¡ªIf a man can survive having his appendix removed, why does he even have it in the first place? Why did God put it there?¡±


    ¡°Beg your pardon, Mr. Tyndall, but this firmament business is a bit more complicated than¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t. Begging your pardon, Captain, but it really is not. I¡¯ve already decided to just accept it and move on. This is the way things are now. You¡¯re a smart man to figure out we¡¯re passing through some disturbance in God¡¯s own firmament, but that¡¯s likely as much as we¡¯ll ever know. God has His mysteries, it¡¯s up to us to live through them. Savvy?¡±


    Benjamin had never known the surgeon to be profound. He found it off-putting. Just how much did he not know about his crew? Men he thought he knew so well.


    But I¡¯ll wager Mr. Tyndall has not met the Messenger or his like before.


    ¡°There is something out there, Scarecrow. A new malevolent force. Not God and not Satan.¡±


    ¡°Another god, perhaps?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°One we missed?¡±


    ¡°What the devil are you talking about?¡±


    Scarecrow sighed and checked Benjamin¡¯s bandages again. ¡°There was Thor and Odin, but we disproved the Vikings on them. Then there was Mars, Jupiter, and Venus, but the Romans all collapsed and their gods with them. The Greeks were failed by their gods Zeus, Demeter, and Aphrodite. The Orientals have their own strange gods but they¡¯ve been disproven, I should think.¡± He shrugged. ¡°But perhaps we missed one, an As-Yet-Unnamed-One.¡±


    Benjamin studied the physician¡¯s face a moment, then looked out the window again and saw John was now speaking with Dobbs and Akil. He spoke fast in that way Ben knew meant he was issuing commands. In that moment, John Laurier stood in the sunlight and Ben thought he¡¯d never seen a more beautiful sight, and once more he was filled with deep longing that frightened him. That man had come for him, when no one else could. When no one else would. He had convinced his entire crew to execute the rescue of a privateer. I¡¯m not on the account, and yet they came for me anyway.


    ¡°Did he tell you what he did?¡± asked Scarecrow.


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Captain Laurier. Heard some of his crew talking about it just before we left the docks. They did something in Panam¨¢, Captain. Something big. Something you wouldn¡¯t believe. They assaulted a Spanish fort that exists on no map. Totally secret, completely hidden, and heavily guarded. They found it, plundered it, and destroyed it. Made their way off with ungodly amounts o¡¯ treasure. That¡¯s what happened to the Ladyman¡¯s hand. He lost it to some creature from the firmament while he was there.¡±


    Benjamin leaned in close. ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡±


    ¡°I heard them talking to some of the Republic people that brought us here.¡±


    Benjamin shifted uneasily on the edge of the bed, and looked out at John. He looked at the Corrupted hand. Others John spoke to were also glancing at it, for how could they not? A long, black, demonic hand with talons like long needles of steel. The thumb of that hand was tucked in his belt. No longer did John try to conceal it. Benjamin followed that hand up to the wrist, to the elbow where it terminated, to the shoulder and neck, to the lips moving, to the hardened eyes.


    ¡°Go to him, sir.¡±


    Vhingfrith looked around. ¡°What did you say?¡±


    Scarecrow finished tying the bandage. ¡°I said go to him. I¡¯m no sage or great thinker, I¡¯m not even a great surgeon, I learned all that I do from my father, and a bit o¡¯ time in the navy. But in that time I¡¯ve seen men die in utmost agony, oftentimes screamin¡¯ for their mothers while shitting themselves. They called out for their mothers because that¡¯s who they loved most. But some of them said different names. Ladies they missed, wives they pined for, fathers and sisters they wanted to apologize to. And sometimes they¡¯d say a name nobody knew. A man¡¯s name. Not a brother or cousin. Someone they loved, and who they wanted me to find and tell them how they¡¯d loved them more than anyone else on Earth.¡±


    Scarecrow sighed and started to walk away.


    ¡°Anyone tells you you¡¯re a freak, Captain, they don¡¯t know what they¡¯re talking about. Many of us love those we¡¯re told we ought not. But, God, did those boys ever regret not holding their loves closer in life. Don¡¯t be like them, Captain. Don¡¯t die wishing. Hold what you love now, while you still can.¡± He snorted derisively. ¡°Neither God nor the Devil nor the fucking firmament can tell you you¡¯re wrong for that. Love the ones you can, while you can.¡±


    When the surgeon was gone, Ben stood there a moment pondering his words. Then he looked up and saw John was approaching the cabin. When the door opened, the Ladyman stepped in with Dobbs and Akil, and he addressed them all. ¡°You¡¯ve been welcomed into Nassau as guests,¡± he said. ¡°My guests. As privateers some of you may have targeted pirates in the past. The Republic¡¯s representatives are willing to overlook that for the time being.¡±


    ¡°Why would they overlook that?¡± Ben asked.


    ¡°Because I paid them.¡±


    Ben winced inwardly. How much of that Spanish treasure had John been forced to pay on his account? He didn¡¯t want to know. John had already sacrificed so much¡­


    ¡°Further, Captain Vhingfrith and I will palaver with the Pirate Kings and the captain of the Edinburgh later this evening. We will be discussing our next moves.¡±


    ¡°Our next moves?¡± Ben asked. ¡°In doing what?¡±


    John looked at him. ¡°Honestly, Benjamin, I don¡¯t know. Something has happened here on New Providence that I was unaware of. They had their own problems during the Second Cataclysm. While Port Royal was being destroyed, Monsters stepped out from these jungles, hunting people in the streets. And while it didn¡¯t cause the calamity Port Royal saw, it has shifted priorities around here. The Long Night for one has caused irreparable damages¡ªcrops are failing. Without constant sunlight all plants wither, you do not have to be a Man of Letters to know this. Food is getting scarce, making plundering more necessary than ever if we want to survive. There¡¯s been talk of cannibalism in some homes outside of Nassau.¡±


    Every man in the room took on a solemn look. Cannibalism was an especially frightful thing for sailors, who¡¯d often heard of shipwrecked men having to survive by eating each other. The fact that it might be happening even on land¡­


    God in heaven, what is happening? The horrors of the firmament struck him anew, and Benjamin sighed and looked out the window at the blue sky and warm sun and scattered clouds.


    ¡°You will all sit tight here while Captain Vhingfrith and I have our palaver. Once a plan of action is decided, we will inform you all of our decision and you will be released back to the Lively, where you will not raise anchor without strict permission.¡± He looked at Benjamin, and waved to the door. ¡°Captain, if you please.¡±


    They stepped out into the hot sun together. Benjamin looked up at it, only now realizing that he¡¯d half believed that he would never see it again, either because he was hanged or because the Long Night became permanent. It only hit him just now that he was actually, truly alive, that the escape had been successful, and that for the moment no one was coming for him. Not Woodes Rogers, not the Admiralty, not even Lawrence Burr. For right now, the sand at his feet and Fort Nassau were real. Nassau was his last bastion of freedom.


    But something was bothering him. The look on John¡¯s face said something was wrong. ¡°What are you not telling me?¡±


    ¡°They really don¡¯t want you here.¡±


    ¡°Who? The Kings? Dare I wager a guess as to why?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that eye of yours. Many people across the World have developed your cat¡¯s-eye. Since the first Cataclysm, some children have even been born with it. Or so say some of the people of Nassau.¡± John glanced behind them. He seemed to be making sure Dobbs and Akil were still armed, still guarding them. ¡°But something has stirred the Republic¡¯s representatives, which makes me think it has stirred the Pirate Kings. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it, Ben. The representatives took Oddsummers¡¯s demands back to the Kings and¡­you should¡¯ve heard the way they said ¡®Libertalia¡¯ over and over, whispering it to one another almost like schoolgirls delighted to know a boy likes them.¡±


    ¡°What is this nonsense about? This Libertalia. I thought it all a myth.¡±


    ¡°You know I sailed with Edward Teach.¡±


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s how my father found you.¡±


    ¡°Teach and I¡­we weren¡¯t close, but he did occasionally give me special attention. He¡ªwell, he gave me a lot of advice that I still follow. Advice that¡¯s kept me alive. But he also told me stories, some of them were sailor¡¯s tales, just horseshit. But he had this dream of Libertalia, a true haven for pirates. Not just a port and a place to stay, like Nassau, but a proper city, to be a hub for an Empire at Sea.¡±


    Benjamin winced. ¡°He confided this dream in you?¡±


    John nodded. ¡°In our last days together, yes, just before he and Caesar had their falling out. He dreamt of this Empire at Sea nightly, he said. Men and women with ships as their own vassal-states, any crew they had would be their willing subjects, who could easily leave whenever they wanted, no questions asked, but who voted in important matters of the Republic. Treasure split more evenly than amongst you privateers¡ªsorry, Ben. ¡®There will be no hereditary titles,¡¯ Blackbeard said. ¡®The only Kings we shall have shall be nominated by the people. As it was done in Rome.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Rome?¡±


    ¡°He had a predilection for history.¡±


    ¡°But Rome had consuls, senators, representatives who were nominated and elected¡ª¡± Benjamin broke off when he saw John¡¯s face. ¡°He wants to hold elections?¡± he laughed. ¡°Pirates holding elections for positions of office and state?¡±


    John said nothing for a moment, just looked out to sea. ¡°That was his dream, Benjamin. You can account for no man¡¯s dream.¡±


    As they stepped onto the dock, Benjamin looked at all the eyes staring at him. Dingy faces leaning in, some of them spitting in his general direction. ¡°But why has this cast such a spell over the Republic¡¯s representatives, do you reckon?¡± he whispered.


    ¡°As far as I can tell, it¡¯s because so many opportunities suddenly have landed in their lap. Namely the destruction of Port Royal, which puts Nassau as the absolute and official capital and pirate haven in these seas. But other things make them eager to mobilize: the general disarray the firmament has wrought, the rumour that you and Munt know of the whereabouts of Levasseur¡¯s treasure, and my arrival.¡±


    Ben winced at that last part. The others made sense, but not that bit. ¡°Why does your arrival in particular matter? You don¡¯t¡ª¡± It hit him. ¡°Ah.¡±


    ¡°Ah?¡±


    ¡°So, Scarecrow was right. You hit the Spaniards hard in Panam¨¢.¡±


    ¡°He told you.¡±


    ¡°How much did you take?¡±


    ¡°Enough that the Hazard sagged low in the water all the way from Panam¨¢.¡±


    ¡°She seemed to move nimbly enough on the way here.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because my men forced me to make a compromise. For their promise to help me save you, they asked only that I not bring the treasure with us to Port Royal, lest she was captured or sunk. So, on the way to Jamaica, we stopped at an island and buried the treasure. All of it. Took us the better part of two days, and all the while I worried I would be too late, that you¡¯d be hanged before I reached you. But the crew demanded it, and without them, I could not have devised a plan that would have worked. Not on such short notice. I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t arrive sooner. I¡¯m sorry you had to wait so long in that dungeon. I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±


    Benjamin grabbed John¡¯s collar and pulled him close and kissed him. They were both stunned by it, and for a moment Ben almost stopped himself. People were watching all around. Go to him. Scarecrow¡¯s words had suddenly leapt to mind. Love the ones you can, while you can.


    When they separated, Benjamin was aware of the awkward looks of others on the dock. Dobbs and Akil even looked a little nonplused.


    John smiled, and took his hand. ¡°You¡¯re a pirate now, Captain Vhingfrith. If not by deed, then by that kiss. Come. Let¡¯s hear what they have to say about Libertalia.¡±

 Chapter 48: Rogerss Meeting

    ¡°Avast!¡± ¨C Pay attention.


    WHEN THE GREY tide lapped back up onto shore, it brought with it half of Port Royal. It was the same as years before when the earthquake hit and the tidal wave, every so often the sea wanted to claim a piece of Port Royal. It was the toll sailors must pay for the right to cross the Caribbean¡ªthat¡¯s what some of the natives said. Rogers had heard it said.


    He barely clung to the barrel, and rolled end over end up the sodden shore along with the tide. He had survived by clinging to the ropes that hung from the side of galleys and brigs. He¡¯d pulled himself up onto a felucca at one point, only to have a massive wave overturn him and pull him under, where he saw a gaggle of purple glowing eyes in retreat, leaving Port Royal be for now. He¡¯d drunk seawater and spat it back up, swam hard as he could for shore only to be pulled back out by a ferocious riptide. Then he was pulled under by first one whirlpool, and then another, and then spat back up a mile out to sea or more and clung for dear life to a lifeboat with a madman trying to row in all directions.


    Rogers had tried holding out a placating hand. ¡°Easy,¡± he panted. ¡°I won¡¯t hurt you¡ª¡±


    The man swung an oar at his head and Rogers ducked it just in time.


    ¡°Please, sir! There is room enough for the both of us!¡±


    But the madman screamed some inarticulate words and launched himself at Rogers, which was a bad move, as Rogers still had a dagger fastened to his hip and withdrew it and jabbed it up through his jaw before throwing him into the sea. The man sank and Rogers remained there in that boat, underneath the new sun, roasting in the heat. In the distance he saw the Hazard, the Lively, and some other ship sailing away together.


    For a whole day, he¡¯d tried rowing for shore, but it did him no good. Currents always carried him back out. Bodies floated in the water. Sharks picked at them. As the day turned into night and the shore of Jamaica began to vanish in the north, he fell asleep. When he woke up a bloated pig was bobbing up and down in a tangled mess of rope and a half sunken raft.


    The water seemed calmer, so he tried rowing again.


    It took him the entire day just to come within sight of land again. His arms were filled with acid, and his chest muscles and abdomen burned with the effort as he rowed into the night. A blessing current seemed to help carry him more or less the direction he wanted to go. He fell asleep at some point, and when he woke up his boat was drifting half a mile out from one of the brigs he¡¯d confiscated from the Clement brothers¡ªher rigging sagged pitifully, and she leaned to one side in the sea, a sign she was taking on water. There was no crew, it was a ghost ship. When he swung north he saw the familiar shoreline of Port Royal, its docks hammered, mostly turned to splinters, half her ships sunk or battered.


    He rowed. Past a xebec, which was slowly sinking, and a tartan, which was adrift with all masts splinters and smashed.


    Then something struck his boat. Struck it so hard it tipped him over, and in terror he began to swim for dear life. He imagined a shark snatching his legs any moment and dragging him under, or those purple-eyed fiends returning to finish the job, or some firmament-born creature devouring him whole.


    He swam until he nearly gave out. He swam through floating debris. Wood planks and barrels and trees and ropes. He grabbed one of the barrels and paddled. His arms had given out, and now his legs would, too.


    As he got closer to shore he saw that the Monster that had risen from the sea and stormed the city had come to a halt. It appeared to have solidified like some dark tree, the fleshy bodies that had made up its exterior now hardened into what looked like from this distance to be blackened bark. At every moment Rogers thought he was dreaming. He became delirious from thirst and hunger, and when he finally flopped onto the beach his legs kept spasming with the effort of swimming. His legs kept trying to push water, even though he lay pitifully in the sand, beside dozens of bloated corpses, a dead donkey and two dead horses, all rotting in the sun. Seagulls pecked at them. One of them tried to have a taste of him, but he had strength enough to bat it away.


    When some living soul finally found him, it was nighttime again, and he was lifted and dragged over to a fire lit by the beach. A cup of water was put to his lips and he gasped at the touch. His throat constricted in such eager need of survival. A woman was trying to feed him bread, slowly, piece by piece.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    He was in and out of it for a day, vaguely aware that more people were gathering around their encampment, and through blurry vision he saw men gathering all the corpses on the sea and throwing them onto wheelbarrows.


    ¡°You¡¯re the only one¡¯s left in charge, ayuh?¡± some a dim-witted, foggy-eyed, half-toothless fellow that came to sit beside him. ¡°You¡¯re the only one c¡¯n mebbe talk to them.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± croaked Rogers.


    ¡°Them ones settin¡¯ up shop at the top o¡¯ the hill, ayuh.¡± The idiot pointed up the hill, towards Fire Lane and the castle that was the Admiralty Office. Being high enough inland and up the hill, that part of the harbour city had survived.


    ¡°Who¡¯s¡ª¡± He swallowed hard. Felt like sand in his throat. He took another drink of water. He looked down the beach at two children jumping up and down on a drowned horse. ¡°Who¡¯s up there? What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°I dunno. New pirate lords, they seem t¡¯think. Men from the bloody-damned firmament. Ne¡¯er seen their like, ayuh. But they needs someone to talk to who¡¯s in charge. That¡¯s what they asked, ayuh.¡±


    ¡°They asked¡­to speak to someone in charge?¡±


    ¡°Ayuh.¡± He spat and looked out to sea.


    ¡°And who are they? You¡¯re not making any sense.¡±


    ¡°Them Africans,¡± the idiot said. Then he used both his forefingers to pull back his eyelids¡ªfar, far back, until it looked like his eyeballs might pop out of their sockets. ¡°And them big Purple Eyes. He¡¯s up there, the Purple Lord.¡±


    Rogers tried standing up. He made it to his feet with the idiot¡¯s help. He looked up at the sun and squinted hard. It had been too long without a sun up there, and he¡¯d forgotten its brilliance. Imagine a day when the sun is gone so long no one remembers its warmth or brilliance at all. He looked up the hill at the colossal, black-barked tree growing out of the top of the hill, and extending its hundreds of branches across the sky, some of them even touching the clouds. ¡°What in God¡¯s name is happening?¡±


    ¡°Port Royal belongs to him now, ayuh. The Purple Lord, he¡¯s the one you prob¡¯ly want t¡¯speak to.¡±


    ____


    Rogers climbed the hill slowly, trudging through the sludgy muck that had been vomited up from the seafloor. Dead fish lay everywhere and the city reeked. A few sad souls flitted here and there, picking through the rubble to salvage whatever they could. But the further he went up the hill the less destruction there was. In fact, there was a clear demarcation line where the tidal wave had not reach, and it even appeared as though the Monster That Had Risen had made a clear beeline through parts of the city that had been under reconstruction. Buildings had been toppled, but those right beside them had been spared.


    He kept walking. Past Patrick¡¯s Tavern which still stood, its doors open and no one within. His favourite coffee-house was there, its only customers the gulls picking at the bones of fish someone had left out on a plate. Crossing Lime Street he saw a single dead militiaman, ripped in half at the waist, entrails spilt into the mud. A riderless horse milled about with nothing to do, its saddle askew. He tried to approach it but it was skittish and ran off.


    Rogers heard music, and followed it. The stillness and silence made him think of leaving, but he had never been a coward, and once had even been an explorer, and such a man had a need to see what was around any bend and to overturn any unturned stone. The stench of dead things filled the air.


    The music became louder. A fiddle and a drum, perhaps a tambourine.


    Despite the cramps in his legs, he kept walking. Up to the Meat Market, to the epicenter of all major commerce in Port Royal, where the Monster That Had Risen had set down its roots. The ground was Corrupted here, split in place like old clay, with runnels of mud flowing into the cracks, along the roots of this new Monstrous Tree. He looked up at the impossible tower of stone-like bark, the circumference must have been a hundred feet and there was no telling the height.


    He finally found the source of the music. It was emanating from The Golden Goose. Woodes walked over and stood in the open doorway, looking in on the dark room.


    ¡°Come in, Captain,¡± said the man seated at the center of the room. He had once been Otis, the proprietor, but no more. The deep purple light that came from his eyes also underlit the skin around his eyes, allowing Rogers to see the veins and skeletal structure beneath the flesh. Rogers could even count his teeth.


    Movement on the ceiling. Rogers glanced up. He steeled himself against the horror, a sort of spider of enormous size, the head of three paikes attached to black stalks, like necks, and each one was as long as a man is tall. The heads were not really alive, he knew that, only animated to look that way, and from the spider¡¯s belly there was a hideous bloated white bulge. Each paike¡¯s head glittered with purple eyes.


    Rogers cast about the rest of the tavern and saw more strange figures, forms that defied God¡¯s holy order. They all had different numbers of eyes, but all of them were purple. Except for the Africans, all of whom stood at the back of the tavern looking back at him. He recognized some of them as the men the Clements had brought over. The Africans were sodden, some of them coated in blood, and were joined by what appeared to be Caribee tribesmen. All of them were armed with spears and shields, all of them stared back Rogers with stern resolve.


    ¡°What¡­what is this?¡± he whispered. ¡°What are you¡ª?¡±


    ¡°That is why we are here to lay out¡ª¡±


    ¡°But what¡­what is all¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Avast!¡± barked the Purple Lord. ¡°I am told,¡± he spoke slowly, ¡°that this island¡¯s leadership retreated to a place called Kingston, and that you are the most senior man left in Port Royal to represent England. I am told you are the man to speak to.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡±


    The Thing That Had Once Been Otis tilted his head and smiled. ¡°Why, your surrender, sir.¡±


    ¡°The surrender of who? What?¡±


    ¡°The whole World, Captain Rogers. I am the Envoy. Our Master would like to discuss the surrender of your World.¡±


    Rogers looked down at his cuffs and noticed they were a little uneven. He fixed them, then sat up straight and said, ¡°What is your position, sir?¡±

 Chapter 49: Discussions of Libertalia

    picaroon ¨C From the Spanish word for rascal. Usually applied to a form of verse about pirates that was satirical or humorous.


    THEY GATHERED ON the top deck of the Edinburgh. The planks had been cleared away and swabbed with holystones, and chairs had been arranged in a big circle around the capstan. John sat beside Ben, watching him, watching the others for treachery. Ben shined his own boots, waiting. Oddsummers had already been made to stand at the center of the circle and address the Pirate Kings, and tell them all the why-nows. Why had he come to Nassau now? Why should they hear him now? Why come to the Caribbean now? Why leave his service to the French and throw in with Caribbean pirates now?


    John only half listened to the strange man¡¯s words. He heard enough to know Oddsummers was a gifted orator. John¡¯s attention was divided between the Pirate Kings and Ellis. His old friend was present for the proceedings not because he was a Pirate King¡ªhe wasn¡¯t¡ªbut he was a vital component to the pirates¡¯ operations in the Bahamas. Father Ellis Cockrell had often given them a safe haven back when things had been tense between the Kings and England, and he¡¯d offered his church¡¯s cellar as a storage house for much of their booty, and Ellis used his religious connections throughout the Caribbean to gather gossip for the Kings.


    John did not like Ellis¡¯s presence here. It rankled him. But he saw no other way to move this conversation forward¡ªEllis had long spoken highly of the Ladyman to the Pirate Kings, and he had arranged this meeting, just as he¡¯d sworn to John he would.


    There were seven Kings present, but that was merely a handful of the true number. The Republic of Pirates had more than thirty Pirate Kings currently, but, as would be expected, the majority of them were at sea, engaged in pursuits elsewhere. It wasn¡¯t even known if they¡¯d survived the Second Cataclysm.


    It wasn¡¯t even known if England had survived.


    Or the Colonies.


    For all they knew, the World had ended and they were all that¡¯s left.


    But not even Caesar made it. Where is he?


    John looked around. To his left was an empty seat¡ªit belonged to Oddsummers, still walking about, still orating like a Roman senator. But to the left of that seat was Captain Connor Belling, one-eyed, one-handed, and grey-headed, freshly from the raids in the Virgin Islands that burned almost every village to the ground. To Belling¡¯s left was Captain James Kidd, young and brash, with long curly brown hair that ran over both shoulders, and with fingernails painted black and ringed with gold and gems. Next to him were the twins, Conroy and Oliver Alexander. Oliver¡¯s fire-mangled face made him look like no brother of Conroy¡¯s, but Conroy himself had been mangled, part of his nose bitten off by a Beast that came through Nassau during the Long Night. The bloated Russian, Captain Kuznetsov, was to his left, dividing his attention between Oddsummers and the pet monkey he had on a leash. The Lebenev captain¡¯s grey beard was braided down to his bare, tattooed belly, and he scowled at the whole world. Finally, there was De Vries and Janssen, co-captains of the brig Bloody Fin out of the Netherlands. The two were known for having nearly killed one another three or four times, and the scars across their necks attested to how close it had been for each of them. Never were two men closer.


    John knew each of these captains in passing. He¡¯d been to Nassau enough times to have run across them and other Kings, but he¡¯d never been one to demand much respect from them. Not until now. Not until Ellis had spoken for him, and they¡¯d heard about the assault on Bateria de la Lanza and had seen the proof in the few treasure chests he¡¯d kept in the Hazard¡¯s hold. Some of that treasure had been used to purchase their patience for the Lively¡¯s captain and crew. But no such deal had been made for Oddsummers, nor would John have tried to make one, but the plague-masked captain seemed fine commanding an audience on his own.


    While the captains sat as captive audience, John could not but wonder if he would have received such attention had his original plan worked when he came to Nassau weeks ago, before Munt had told him he must rush to Port Royal if he ever wanted to see Ben again. I only wanted a seat at the table. To be a King¡­but now their eyes glitter with this new promise. Libertalia is their new dream. Oddsummers has caught the mood. I can already see it.


    Already the visions of the Behemoth were coming to mind and John was thinking up ways to exploit Port Royal¡¯s destruction. Surely there must be treasures left there in the warehouses by the beach. The Behemoth did not destroy everything, and the leadership fled the city. Think what could be left¡ª


    ¡°And so, my captains, there you have it,¡± Oddsummers concluded. ¡°Our chance to make a dream more than just a dream. As the World crumbles, as cities fall and nations struggle against the currents of the firmament, there is a gap here. An exploitable weakness we¡¯ve never seen before and shall never see again.¡±


    ¡°Why do you say this, comrade?¡± asked Kuznetsov, stroking his braids.


    ¡°Because food will be scarce. Scarcer than it has ever been in the history of our World.¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t be like this everywhere,¡± said Captain Kidd, leaning forward with elbows on knees. He spat on the deck. Disrespect meant for Oddsummers? ¡°The whole bloody World can¡¯t be sufferin¡¯ so much that their navies will turn their eyes from us.¡±


    ¡°Oh, they won¡¯t forget us, you can be sure on that. But they will turn their eyes,¡± Oddsummers promised. ¡°They¡¯ve no choice. They will have to tighten their belts, secure what crops they can so that the noble houses and wealthy don¡¯t all starve. You¡¯ve seen cannibalism already here in Nassau¡ª¡±


    ¡°I refuse to believe England, powerful as she is, has no answer.¡±


    At this, John sighed, and spoke up, though he didn¡¯t know why. ¡°Mushroom farms.¡±


    Kidd swung to him. ¡°Sorry, what the bloody fuck did yeh jes say?¡±


    ¡°When last I was in Port Royal, I heard men talking. Fungus is all that grows well in darkness, my Kings. Just need enough water. Some of the nobility have already been sending out people to see how the people on St. Lucia manage their mushroom farms. They¡¯ve already got pigs to sniff out truffles. The rich folk, I mean.¡±


    John looked at each of them meaningfully, wresting back some of Oddsummers¡¯ control.


    ¡°They¡¯ve got a plan to survive these Long Nights. Some are spreading word to other wealthy families to dig trenches all around their estates, making special gardens for mushrooms. They¡¯ll keep their own cattle, feed them mushrooms, as much as they can, and hope that works.¡±


    Oddsummers paused to look at John with renewed interest.


    Next to him, Benjamin¡¯s face winced as though in disgust. ¡°Dear God, John, is that true?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s what I heard, just before the Behemoth stormed Port Royal.¡±


    Captain Belling used one hand to scratch the stump of the other wrist. ¡°That ain¡¯t a bad plan, you know?¡±


    Conroy nodded. ¡°Lotta Caribbean islands are perfect for growin¡¯ mushrooms. They grow like mad in some places here, some of ¡¯em are unusually tasty, I hear¡ª¡±


    ¡°We could be sitting on a goldmine here, my captains!¡± said Oliver.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying, Oliver. And what have I said about interrupting me when I¡¯m¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just underscoring your point, brother.¡±


    The two of them started to fight.


    ¡°That was the thinking of the men I spoke to in Royal,¡± John said, feeling some momentum swaying back in his direction. The wind was in his sails now, away from Oddsummers. ¡°There is an opportunity here, my Kings. Something is happening that has never happened before. I think we now know it isn¡¯t going to stop happening.¡±


    ¡°So, what, are we mushroom farmers now?¡± Kidd laughed. He stood up and paced the deck, shaking his head skeptically.


    ¡°The Ladyman is right, we have a rare opportunity here, gentlemen,¡± said Oddsummers. ¡°One I¡¯d like to pass along to the other Pirate Kings. I want this rumour to spread to every island in the Caribbean. I want it to spread all the way to the Colonies, so that George, Philip, and Louis eventually hear us. All of them should hear.¡± He tapped his head. ¡°An Empire at Sea, just like you¡¯ve always dreamt about but never dared to seriously consider.¡±


    ¡°A pipe dream,¡± Kidd called before he went belowdecks.


    ¡°Perhaps before now, aye.¡± Oddsummers pointed to John and Benjamin. ¡°But now you¡¯ve got three windfalls plopped right into your lap. The Ladyman¡¯s treasure from the fort, Munt¡¯s knowledge of Levasseur¡¯s treasure, and my knowledge of the Indian Ocean.¡± Oddsummers looked at them all. ¡°There is no worthwhile rebellion without funding, my captains.¡±


    Captain De Vries spoke up for the first time. ¡°Wait a moment, rebellion? Who said anything about a rebellion? I thought we were only talking about creating a new port-of-call in the Bahamas. Libertalia, yes? That would show England we merit a second look. But rebellion¡­that word insinuates much more. Smacks of open war.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± his co-captain, Janssen, agreed. ¡°And if you piss off England, then the bitch¡¯ll leave us to the wolves. The French, the Spanish, even the bloody fucking Dutch will know we¡¯re completely unprotected. At least at the moment those countries dare not openly declare war on us because they can¡¯t ever tell if we¡¯re pirates or privateers, or whose side we¡¯re. But that will all change if we declare ourselves independent, and England just says ¡®Fuck the Caribbean¡¯ and abandons us!¡±


    Oddsummers suddenly threw his head back and laughed. They all looked at him as if he he¡¯d grown a second head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but you all want revolution without struggle. You want to run miles without first labouring in inches. You want open waters without fighting the tide or the wind.¡±


    John was glad when Benjamin finally stopped cleaning his boots, and spoke up, ¡°If you want something you¡¯ve never had before, you must do something you¡¯ve never done before.¡±


    John looked at him in surprise. It was the exact same thing he¡¯d said to Ben back in Port Royal, just after surviving that first Long Night, and just before he executed his plan against Raymond Smith¡¯s plantation. It astonished him that Benjamin had remembered it, and it shocked him that Benjamin had said it in a way that seemed in support of Oddsummers¡¯s cause.


    The Villain smiled and nodded. ¡°Now there¡¯s some words to etch into your planks so your men read them each day! Captain Vhingfrith has the right of it. If you want something you¡¯ve never had, you must do something you¡¯ve never done. Bravo, sir! Bravo!¡±


    Captain Kidd returned from belowdecks with a bottle of wine (presumably one of Oddsummers¡¯s bottles, and he had not asked for permission) and spoke as if he¡¯d never left. ¡°Levasseur¡¯s treasure, you said? And what of it? Let¡¯s assume it isn¡¯t some fairy story, what exactly would all that coin mean for our Republic? How can it help make Libertalia real?¡± He laughed skeptically, and popped the cork on his bottle.


    ¡°You¡¯ve all been in control out here so long you¡¯ve forgotten how you get things done with politicians.¡± Oddsummers leaned against the capstan and removed his plague mask. ¡°And politicians are the ones you will need to bribe. Slowly, over time. While at the same time buying ships, or building your own. Sending men out to St. Lucia to study these, eh¡ªmushroom farms you said, Ladyman?¡ªand spread that knowledge across the West Indies. Make ourselves self-sustainable.¡±


    ¡°Ourselves, you say?¡± said John, standing up. ¡°You¡¯re not on the account, Captain Oddsummers. You¡¯re a pirate, true, but not of the Caribbean.¡±


    ¡°Da, what the fuck are you?¡± said Kuznetsov.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell them all about yourself, and the benandanti?¡±


    If Oddsummers was afraid of the ambush, he impressed John by not showing it. ¡°Very well,¡± he said, and launched into an explanation of his Order and what they represented¡ªtheir beliefs, their goals, and their explanation of what had stirred up the firmament. This took until the sun was past noon, and when he was done, Oddsummers stood before the Pirate Kings and said, ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°Let me get this straight,¡± said Captain Belling. ¡°You wish to save the World by reorganizing its power structures, fighting back against these, eh, malandanti, or whatever, and make a profit while you¡¯re at it?¡±


    Oddsummers gave a disarming smile and held his hands out palms up, as if to present the logic. ¡°Heroes can¡¯t get paid for their good deeds? Constables do it all the time, do they not? And priests?¡± With a glance at Father Cockrell.


    John caught Ellis¡¯s eye, and Ellis remained stoically leaned against the mizzen.


    ¡°You¡¯re a priest now, Oddsummers?¡± said Kuznetsov.


    ¡°Actually, yes, of a sort. But my Order has many ways of defining the term, so I wouldn¡¯t put much stock in my¡ª¡±


    ¡°Before we set sail, you said your Order has prophecies, that you knew this was coming,¡± John said, pacing. ¡°How could you know the firmament would happen?¡±


    Oddsummers smirked again. ¡°Would you believe math?¡±


    ¡°Math?¡± Kuznetsov scoffed. The others chuckled.


    Oddsummers shrugged. ¡°None of you put faith into mathematics when you gauge the stars, when you count the fathoms beneath you? No? It doesn¡¯t come into your calculations at all?¡±


    They all went silent.


    ¡°Benandanti math is nothing sorcerous, only far more involved than what you¡¯re used to.¡±


    They all remained silent.


    Captain Belling finally said, ¡°All these words¡­they¡¯re just that, words. We¡¯ve heard what you have to say out of respect for a fellow pirate. But you are not one of us. You are not of the Republic.¡± He slapped his knees and started to stand. ¡°I don¡¯t see any more good use of my time here, lads, so I¡¯ll just¡ª¡±


    ¡°Libertalia,¡± said Kidd. John suddenly remembered the young captain was there. He leaned on the portside rail and sipped wine and belched. ¡°Look me in the eye and tell me you believe in it.¡±


    ¡°I believe in it,¡± Oddsummers said convincingly. ¡°In fact, I¡¯ve seen it.¡±


    Kidd blanched. John stopped pacing.


    ¡°What?¡± said Benjamin. ¡°You mean you¡¯ve actually seen it. I thought you said it was only a dream, not yet made real¡ª¡±


    ¡°It is. It was. But it has a seed, and that seed begins to grow. I¡¯ve seen that seed. A small path leading up the shores of Madagascar, deep into the jungle. Ships come and go from an inlet there, but they always arrive during the night and are gone by morning. Sometimes half a dozen ships at once. No docks, no shore presence of any kind. I went ashore once with a boat, snuck past a village of Caribee natives, and saw what some captains have already started assembling from the remains of shipwrecked vessels pulled inland. It rests upon an island at the center of the lake.¡±


    ¡°Madagascar is already an island,¡± John said. ¡°An island within an island?¡±


    ¡°Just so, Ladyman. Just so. But let¡¯s be honest, it¡¯s merely a secret cove right now, a place dreamt up by Blackbeard and Steve Bonnet and others like him. A pipe dream, like Captain Kidd over there said.¡± Oddsummers put his thumbs in his belt, and tilted his head quizzically at their assembly. ¡°Right now, Libertalia is nothing. It¡¯s a hiding place for a handful of pirates like Captain Teach, who have kept up their piratical activities without being on your account.¡±


    ¡°Teach is there?¡± John said. It felt like ages since he¡¯d seen the man. Few people had seen him in recent years. Almost impossible to imagine him now, still alive, still pirating, still moving about on the Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge.


    ¡°Libertalia is a gorgeous dream,¡± Oddsummers said. He reached a hand out to the air, like he could almost touch it, or pluck Libertalia from a tree branch. ¡°But it can be more. So much more.¡±


    John looked at the man¡¯s twinkling eyes, and for a moment he almost believed it. When he looked over at Ben, he saw him leaning back in his chair, one hand stroking his chin in the same way it had when he¡¯d first encountered the Long Night and tried to suss out what exactly the firmament was.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pretty dream, aye,¡± said Conroy.


    ¡°Aye,¡± agreed Oliver.


    ¡°But what¡¯s our part in it?¡±


    ¡°Aye, what¡¯s our part?¡±


    ¡°I told you,¡± Conroy said to his brother warningly. ¡°Stop echoing me.¡±


    ¡°You want to be a Republic of Pirates in deed and not just in concept,¡± Oddsummers said, in his closing statement. ¡°This is the way you do it. Bold movements, history-making consequences, taking advantage of a boon brought on by the sorcerers in the malandanti. Your enemies are scattered now, worrying about their citizens turning into cannibals. I¡¯ve told you what¡¯s happening in England, the Disease and the Tam and all of it. They will be suffering the same crop failures as us. They will be starving soon. You¡¯ve heard it from the Ladyman, the Caribbean makes excellent mushroom farms. Our population is far less than those of mighty nations, so we need less food. And all of us are built around sea life and plantations. And our people are a people made for adapting and surviving. We figured out the sugarcane plantations. We figured out the slave trade, and how to work with former slaves to crew our own ships. We are the halfway point for trade with the Colonies, all others must come either through or close to our waters.¡±


    John noticed Oddsummers kept say ¡°us¡± and ¡°we¡±. A clever way to keep the others forgetting he wasn¡¯t from here, nor on the account. He¡¯s good. He¡¯s very, very good. John hated him more by the minute.


    ¡°What would it take?¡± Benjamin asked. John looked at him. ¡°What would it take to fully undertake this journey to the other side of the world and find Levasseur¡¯s treasure?¡±


    ¡°A small fleet of ships. Three or five good ones, fully crewed with the best men in the Caribbean.¡±


    ¡°The locket¡­it isn¡¯t even fully deciphered yet.¡±


    ¡°I understand your man Munt knows a woman who has been working on that.¡±


    Benjamin said nothing for a moment. Then he nodded. ¡°He does.¡±


    John said, ¡°You want my crew to spend their treasure¡ªa fortune many of them lost friends for, and could retire on¡ªto fund your expedition instead?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m asking every pirate here to just think about this new World we¡¯re in. And consider the opportunity,¡± Oddsummers said. ¡°I¡¯m asking everyone present to spread the word. The pirates in the Caribbean are a force to be reckoned with. Hell, we¡¯ve even got a pirate captain with a pet Leviathan,¡± he laughed, pointing at Benjamin. ¡°Ol¡¯ Charley they call him, eh? Do you think he¡¯ll be at your beckon call all the way to the Indian Ocean?¡± The Pirate Kings all laughed. John could see Oddsummers was winning some of them over. ¡°And he¡¯s the same bloody captain who dubbed the firmament in the first place. The Devil¡¯s Son! And his lover, the Ladyman, who fucked the Spaniards up their arses like no one¡¯s ever done before!¡±


    There was a short silence. But most of the Pirate Kings nodded approvingly. John had braced himself for ridicule but relaxed when he realized it wasn¡¯t coming. No one here cared about his and Benjamin¡¯s intimate relationship. Indeed, the Villain had just covertly used it as a benefit in his call to arms.


    ¡°But yes, Captain Laurier, I am asking you to commit. I¡¯m asking all of us to commit. You know Levasseur¡¯s treasure is no pipe dream because the French themselves are committed to finding it. If we find it first¡­just think of it! So much wealth that France is counting on it to save their economy! Think of that treasure in our hands! Think what we could do with it!¡±


    ¡°A-hooooo-aaaahhh!¡± shouted Captain Kuznetsov, and stamped his feet.


    De Vries and Janssen joined him.


    John was shocked by this.


    ¡°We could be our own nation,¡± said the Villain. ¡°A true Republic of Pirates.¡±


    ¡°A-hooooooo-ahhhhhhh!¡± shouted Captain Belling.


    John looked around him, and realized which way the winds were blowing. Oddsummers had caught the mood, and was feeding their dreams. Their fantasies.


    ¡°Hell,¡± said Oliver, ¡°like you said, if you want something you¡¯ve never had, you gotta do something you¡¯ve never done.¡±


    They already think it was him who said that. Not me, not Benjamin, but Oddsummers. They credit him with that statement.


    A couple more cheers went up. Captain Belling stomped his feet.


    Oddsummers wasn¡¯t done. ¡°Levasseur¡¯s treasure is real! Believe it, brothers! The treasure is real! Our power is real! Nassau¡¯s destiny is real! And soon, Libertalia shall be real! Look out there!¡± He pointed east towards the open sea. ¡°That is Libertalia out there! Can you see her?¡±


    ¡°Aye!¡± said Belling. ¡°Her teets are the most beautiful in the world!¡±


    ¡°And jes look at her ass!¡± cried Conroy.


    ¡°Aye, that ass o¡¯ hers!¡± Oliver agreed.


    More stamping feet. Now even Captain Kidd joined in.


    John looked around at Benjamin, still sitting, still stroking his chin.


    ¡°And there is one other thing our enemies do not have, my captains,¡± Oddsummers announced. ¡°Mr. Bainbridge, if you please.¡± He gestured to one of his yellow-skinned crew, the Edinburgh¡¯s first mate if John wasn¡¯t mistaken.


    ¡°Aye, thirrr,¡± the plagueman slurred. He went belowdecks, and re-emerged a moment later carrying the mangled body of a man, his entire lower body missing, simply blown off. His yellow flesh had turned blue and grey, his eyes lolled back into his head, and rigor kept him stiff as a log, arms out to his side and locked into place. From the gaping cavity of his lower torso there was red viscera still dangling.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The Pirate Kings had all seen dead men before, but not like this. They held their breaths and stood up and took several steps back. Only Benjamin remained seated, John noticed, and leaned forward curiously.


    ¡°This man was struck by cannon when we came to the Hazard¡¯s aid,¡± Oddsummers said, reaching into his coat and withdrawing the vial of pink liquid he¡¯d shown John and Ben days before. He popped the cork and said, ¡°This they call Tam. At least, that¡¯s what the priests in England are calling it. There are two ways to end up if you contract the Disease, my captains. Either you survive and end up looking like me and my sallow-fleshed friends here, or else you die, and slowly come apart, melting, until you become this substance here, which has a few peculiar qualities. Observe one of them.¡±


    He tipped the vial, and a dab of the pink Tam fell onto the forehead and neck of the dead man. What happened next caused Captain Kuznetsov to lose control of his legs and stagger over to the railing to vomit, and caused Captains Belling and De Vries to draw their swords and aim them at Oddsummers.


    With his Corrupted hand, John unconsciously clutched Ben¡¯s shoulder. Ben, who still sat in his chair. Ben, who leaned forward even more and narrowed his eyes in concentration. Even after all John had seen from the firmament, the sight of the arms on the dead man suddenly twitching and the head looking around made him feel faint. Ben reached up to touch John¡¯s Corrupted hand reassuringly, even though John could not feel it.


    The dead man waved his arms like he was trying to swim in air. With his own sword, Oddsummers stabbed the dead man many times, in his chest, in his throat, in one of his eyes. Nothing stopped the dead man from moving. Oddsummers sheathed his sword and walked around like he was giving a lecture. ¡°The Resurrected feel no pain, and they are not violent. From what I¡¯ve seen they will do as they are told by whomever they bond with first upon resurrection.¡±


    ¡°What¡ªwhat¡ª?¡± said Captain Janssen, unable to form words.


    ¡°We shall soon see the full properties of Tam, once our scientists have had time to fully examine and experiment with it. I¡¯m told it allows one to conduct great power.¡±


    ¡°Scientists?¡± John said.


    ¡°Oh, apologies, it¡¯s a relatively new term. Eh, the men at the University of Cambridge coined the term to denote one who is a ¡®cultivator of natural sciences.¡¯ Benandanti have taken to calling many of our more gifted ursulas by this word. Has a more official ring than ¡®Men of Letters.¡¯ ¡± Oddsummers stepped back slightly when the dead man tried to touch his boots. ¡°You see what we have here, my captains? You see what a leg up we have? I¡¯ve just given you knowledge that Tam is a resource you can use, while much of the World still does not know the full uses of Tam.¡±


    ¡°A resource for what?¡± asked Kidd, kneeling, at a safe distance, to gaze upon the Resurrected.


    ¡°For whatever, Captain. To inject fear into our enemies. To have crew that have no need to eat or drink, who cannot die, who will not refuse an order, no matter how dangerous.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious!¡± said Captain Belling. ¡°You want that¡ªthing¡ªreefing our sails?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m only telling you of the possibilities. And I¡¯ll remind you all that you know very goddamn well that if it can be exploited, governments will exploit it. What I¡¯m suggesting¡ª¡±


    ¡°This is blasphemy!¡±


    ¡°What I¡¯m suggesting is that we get ahead of this. By making raids on those places where the Diseased have been. London is dumping thousands of barrels of Tam into the sea every month. Get your hands on that, lads, and see how far you can go. If you don¡¯t like the idea of raising the dead, then think of what this substance can do, how it¡¯ll change the World once electricity itself is mastered¡ª¡±


    ¡°Elec-what?¡± said John.


    ¡°Electricity,¡± Benjamin said, and they all looked at him. ¡°From Thomas Browne¡¯s Pseudodoxia Epidemica. From the Greek ¡®elektron¡¯, meaning ¡®shining light¡¯. A theoretical power behind lightning. Clever men in both Britain and the Colonies are angling to harness its power. Men of letters.¡±


    ¡°Impossible!¡± said Kuznetsov. The Russian¡¯s face had gone pale. ¡°You cannot harness lightning! You cannot take what slips from God¡¯s own fingertips¡ª¡±


    ¡°My captains, my lords of the sea,¡± Oddsummers said, corking the vial and returning it to his coat pocket. ¡°I bring you news of the greater world, of a momentous time of change.¡± He stamped his foot. ¡°I¡¯ve shown you what there is waiting for you, what opportunity is to be seized.¡± He stamped his foot. ¡°The Ladyman and I have told you all of how the wealthy intend to survive on mushrooms, while we all scramble in the dark.¡± He stamped his foot. ¡°I¡¯ve shown you power beyond comprehension, and extended an invitation from the benandanti.¡± He stamped his foot. ¡°This is destiny calling. It¡¯s godly work, you picaroons. Will you shrink from it?¡±


    He waited to hear from them.


    Then, Captain Janssen of all people stamped his foot. And he kept doing it until his co-captain De Vries did the same. They stamped in time with Oddsummers. Then Kuznetsov regained himself, wiping vomit from his chest and laughing. Laughing madly. It was like he was drunk. He stamped his foot. Then they were all stamping and cheering, while John watched the Resurrected man still moving, searching for purpose, searching for anything, it seemed. A strange spell had been cast here, and its incanter had been Belardino Oddsummers.


    John started to walk away. Then, while the others cheered, Ben stood up and spoke close to John¡¯s ear. ¡°We need to talk.¡±


    ____


    They left the Edinburgh and went inside the Hazard¡¯s captain¡¯s quarters. Benjamin dressed himself in fresh clothes John provided him and sat at the large desk, staring at charts. John sat on the opposite side of the desk holding a brandy in his hand but not drinking it. The two of them had said little since excusing themselves from the palaver. They both knew that topside, servants of the Pirate Kings had been placed on deck as guards, making sure Benjamin did not go anywhere. They may have listened to Ben¡¯s small input, but he still was not on the account.


    ¡°Well, what do you think?¡± John said.


    Ben looked at him. Remembered he had his own brandy, and took a swig. In his mind he heard his father saying, Head for the Colonies. When you find you have no friends left in the world¡ªexcept for that Laurier boy, he¡¯ll never leave you¡ªtake what you can and make for Massachusetts. Do you hear me? Yes, he heard the old man still. And yet.


    ¡°I have thoughts,¡± he said at last. ¡°Lots of thoughts about what Oddsummers is offering. There is something happening within me, John, that I cannot explain. I have seen the open ocean and know that it is now becoming something else, transforming by God¡¯s will or Someone Else¡¯s. A god that we missed.¡±


    ¡°A god that we missed?¡±


    ¡°Something Scarecrow said to me. An entity unaccounted for. The Master behind all of this. Our seas are changing by the Master¡¯s power, and I can empathize with their struggles, because my own soul is still in a state of becoming. A constant state of becoming. Becoming what, I don¡¯t know. But before I say anything else, I want to know what you plan to do with that diving bell.¡±


    ¡°Diving bell?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You went to a great deal of trouble to get it, as I understand, and spent most of your share of the Spanish treasure to buy it off of¡­what was his name? Braithwaite? So, what do you aim to do with it?¡±


    ¡°Why do you want to know?¡±


    ¡°Because everyone knows the Ladyman has a hundred reasons why he does anything. From the beginning of all this, you had a plan. You got my help from me to take out the Nuestra, but you didn¡¯t sell the slaves. At first, I thought that was peculiar, but then you showed me. You showed everyone. You took Akil and all the others and recruited them to help you attack Raymond Smith¡¯s plantation, and you took even more slaves from Raymond, and got some passphrase or other about a fort that my father told you about.¡±


    John kept quiet. Benjamin watched him closely, trying to see the Ladyman¡¯s mind.


    ¡°Then you sailed to the Colonies to do what, train your new slaves? Train them to reef and hand and swab decks? Then what? You spun that success into the next venture, by sailing with them to Panam¨¢, and got some of them killed before you escaped with an enormous fucking treasure most pirates could only dream off. But you weren¡¯t done yet. Next you sailed to here, to Nassau, and you bought a fucking diving bell and used your new clout to summon the Pirate Kings to a palaver. So, tell me, what has all this been about?¡±


    Benjamin watched John closely. The Ladyman drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment. Then he seemed to come to a conclusion and sighed, ¡°Fine. If you want to know, I¡¯ll tell you. But you must promise me not to share it with anyone until I¡¯ve decided if I want to tell anyone.¡±


    Ben nodded. ¡°You have my word, John.¡±


    ¡°Do you recall when we sat at that coffee-house in Port Royal last year, and I told you my plans come to me like dreams? That they come to me in fits and starts?¡±


    ¡°I do remember.¡±


    ¡°In a dream, you have some semblance of where you¡¯re going, a logic to what you¡¯re doing, even if your conscious mind wasn¡¯t thinking it when you went to sleep. It is like a fog lifting ahead of you, a road with more detail revealed as you go. And in the dream, you know you had a plan for being here, you somehow knew what to expect before you even arrived. But you didn¡¯t know that before. It¡¯s like your dream wrote the script without your knowledge, but once you arrived at your destination, it¡¯s like you always knew. Do you understand?¡±


    Benjamin shrugged. ¡°Mostly, yes.¡±


    John nodded. Scratched his chin. ¡°My whole life has been a dream, Benjamin. At least it feels like it. But all along the way, the path was being made clearer and clearer. I had no idea that when I served aboard Queen Anne¡¯s Revenge and listened to Blackbeard go on about Libertalia and heard Braithwaite talk about the sciences that I was going to do something with all that knowledge. And yet somehow I did know. Knowing and not knowing all at once, the fog being slowly lifted, the book of my life being written with my input but not by conscious knowledge. And every time I get a new piece of information, it adds to my goals, expands them in ways I never dreamed.¡±


    Benjamin looked at the Ladyman and suddenly thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. Such an exquisite specimen, both masculine and feminine, strong and vulnerable, a madman and a genius. Good God, how does anyone resist this allure?


    John sipped his brandy, and stood up to look out the window at a westering sun.


    ¡°Braithwaite told me ages ago about a Spanish treasure fleet that went down out here somewhere,¡± John continued. ¡°It happened ages ago, before I ever met him or Blackbeard. Only one ship, the San Luis, survived a savage storm, and Braithwaite alone had heard from one of her crewmen, a man named Salazar, where the Silver Train ships went down. It did not matter, you see, because it was the middle of the ocean and no one could ever dive that deep. So the treasure was assumed lost forever.¡±


    Ben arched an eyebrow. ¡°But?¡±


    ¡°But, as fate would have it, Braithwaite himself happened to be a Man of Letters, a man of no mean engineering skill, and while he served aboard the Revenge he was busy creating something called a diving bell for exploring the ocean floor.¡±


    Benjamin stood up and leaned on the desk. ¡°How much is down there, John?¡±


    John did not answer him immediately. He sipped his brandy. Watched that westering sun. ¡°According to Braithwaite, Salazar claimed that particular fleet of ships was the largest of the Silver Train at that time. At least two large ships¡ª Santa Rosal¨ªa or the Santa Eva Maria¡ªwent down, their bellies loaded.¡±


    ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how much is down there, Benjamin, but I do know that there is no way the Spanish could have ever reclaimed it. It¡¯s in highly contested waters. Deep waters. And nobody has the capability to dive down and get it all back up. Even if you had the best swimmers in all the world, even if they could hold their breaths that long and retrieve it piecemeal, the endeavour would take weeks. Months. Perhaps even years to get it all. And in no time an English ship would eventually spot any ships lingering there overlong.¡± John poured himself more brandy.


    ¡°But surely the Royal Navy will have found it?¡±


    ¡°How? Only Salazar knew where it was, and he died soon after telling Braithwaite about it. I bought the information from Braithwaite, along with the diving bell.¡±


    Benjamin rubbed his head. ¡°But surely it doesn¡¯t cost¡ª¡±


    ¡°The treasure I took from the fort wasn¡¯t just to pay Braithwaite for a diving bell. It was to pay him for his only working bell, and to fund him to finish making the ones he started when he first came to Nassau. But that¡¯s not all.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You asked me how much is down there, and I cannot even guess at a number. But, Ben, if it is true, and it is the wealth of the largest of the Spanish treasure fleets, then what lies below those waters is the treasury of an entire country. Perhaps even more than what Levasseur hid. Nations function off that kind of silver.¡± John sipped his brandy.


    It suddenly dawned on Benjamin. ¡°Ships. Once the treasure is pulled up from the seafloor, you¡¯ll need ships to haul it all. Lots of them.¡±


    ¡°At least two ships went down at that location, maybe all four, all of them fat with silver. Probably other jewels taken from Mayans, other natives, French and Dutch enemies, English nobles, who knows what else.¡±


    ¡°How many men can fit inside a diving bell?¡±


    ¡°Two comfortably. Three if you cram them in.¡±


    Benjamin began to see the plan, the many layers the Ladyman was working within, and it was astounding. ¡°Your plan is to buy a few more ships, equip them with cranes and diving bells, then use the diving bells to send down men who can swim, collect the treasure, tie it up in nets, then use the same crane you used for the diving bells to haul it all back up. Good God, John¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll need at least three ships to haul the treasure, and two more to defend us against attack if we get spotted doing our work.¡±


    Benjamin paced. Then he looked at John. ¡°And what will you do next?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°After you¡¯ve got the sunken treasure. Assuming you get it all, what will you do next? You¡¯ve just told me these plans reveal themselves to you as you reach a new part in the path.¡±


    John downed the last of his brandy and looked at the empty glass clutched in his Corrupted hand. ¡°There¡¯s a new world upon us, Ben. The Villain was right about that in his great speech. God knows what¡¯s next for us all. I suppose my plans will depend on the firmament, and the Long Night.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea for it,¡± a voice said. They both turned and saw Oddsummers striding into the room, smiling and looking very satisfied with himself. ¡°Sorry, I was coming to talk with you both, and heard you from out in the companionway, and I just couldn¡¯t help myself¡ª¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡± Ben asked.


    ¡°There¡¯s something else the Ladyman isn¡¯t tell you, Captain Vhingfrith. I spoke to his father, and he said that when Arthur Vhingfrith came to London and brought Laurier here with him, to speak on his behalf, Laurier told your father about his plans for the sunken treasure. Didn¡¯t you, Laurier?¡±


    John said nothing.


    Ben watched the Ladyman closely.


    ¡°Laurier said he wanted nothing to do with working for your father, that he was done with sea living and he wanted only enough money to fund this expedition beneath the ocean. Laurier here didn¡¯t want to be a privateer or a pirate, he wanted to return home. But once he was turned down, he had nowhere else to go, and so he took up with your father permanently, and, well, things took a turn when the Ladyman struck out on his own. He wanted that sunken treasure. He¡¯s been planning this since before you ever bedded him, Captain.¡±


    Benjamin looked over at John, whose face was one of stone. He looked back at Oddsummers. ¡°What do you want, sir?¡± he repeated.


    ¡°I came all this way to catch up to both of you. But now that I¡¯ve overheard the Ladyman¡¯s tale¡­Munt¡¯s treasure hunt is enticing, but so is this Spanish treasure. What an endeavour! I¡¯m here to offer my ship, my crew, and my services in your effort, if you will but come with me, across the World, to find Levasseur¡¯s treasure, and to use that coin to establish a new government. An Empire at Sea.¡±


    Ben looked at John.


    ¡°Three captains. Three ships. That¡¯s a good start for your sunken treasure,¡± said Oddsummers. ¡°Just one or two more, as the Ladyman said, to lend support in case we are attacked in our mission¡ª¡±


    ¡°That treasure is mine!¡± John rounded the desk and Ben saw the Corrupted hand flash wide, talons flashing in sunlight coming through the window. ¡°It is mine, do you hear? Mine.¡±


    ¡°And so shall it remain. I only ask for a deal. You see, I¡¯ve been recently put on the account. Yes, me! Captain Oddsummers of the Republic of Pirates, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.¡± He held out his left hand, with the cut he¡¯d taken for the blood oath. He stuck out his other hand to shake but neither of them took it, so he reeled it back in. ¡°I should think you men are used to pacts by now. God knows you¡¯ve helped one another out enough, especially during that battle with the Nuestra. All I¡¯m suggesting is that you recognize I saved your lives at Port Royal, and that without me the Hazard, and very likely the Lively, would have been destroyed.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going after Levasseur¡¯s treasure with or without you. I already have all that I need. But I came a long, long way to find you both, and stuck my neck out for you. You¡¯ve seen I¡¯m a man of will. I can put together a ship and a crew in the time it takes most people to put on their pants in the morning. Lacking resources doesn¡¯t hinder me. I can do a lot with a little. You¡¯ll need that. You¡¯ll need me.¡±


    Oddsummers pulled out the vial of Tam.


    ¡°And you¡¯ll need this.¡±


    ¡°Get that away from me,¡± John said in disgust.


    ¡°What good is waking the dead when it comes to hunting treasure?¡± Ben asked.


    Oddsummers sighed as if to summon all his patience. Then he shook the vial. Hard. And the more he did, the more it glowed. First pink, then a hot, burning red. Benjamin could even feel the heat from it. ¡°Tam has many fascinating properties, or didn¡¯t I tell you? You¡¯re going to go beneath the waves, Ladyman? You¡¯re going to be swimming into the long, black holds of crumbled ships? How are you going to see down there? Lanterns? Lanterns need air. Even if you found some ingenious way to seal one in glass, it would suffocate and gutter out before you reached the seafloor.¡±


    He shook the vial again. The Tam burned brighter, casting one side of Oddsummers¡¯s smile in grim shadow.


    ¡°Now tell me you¡¯re not thankful to have run across me.¡±


    ¡°What if we just kill you and take the Tam and your fucking ship?¡± John said.


    Ben held up a hand. ¡°John¡ª¡±


    ¡°You could,¡± the Villain said. ¡°But why would you? I¡¯ve a loyal crew. I¡¯ve connections to the benandanti. I¡¯m a beyond capable captain. Why waste perfectly good resources like those?¡±


    John said, ¡°We¡¯ll need to think¡ª¡±


    ¡°No you don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I said we will think on it¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll do it,¡± Benjamin said.


    John shot him a look.


    ¡°Excellent. I¡¯ll just go above and tell the Pirate Kings the news.¡±


    ¡°The Kings?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, I forgot to mention, the real reason I came to pay you a visit. The Pirate Kings have made a decree. They have a drawn up a Declaration of sorts, of their intent to make Libertalia real, and assert the entire Caribbean as the sole province of the Republic of Pirates. Isn¡¯t this jolly exciting! By Jove, I think I haven¡¯t been this thrilled in ages. Shall we make our announcement jointly, or would you prefer to make it yourselves? We should do it soon if we want to pick off the best crewmen in Nassau.¡±


    ¡°Give us a moment,¡± John said. ¡°We need to discuss something amongst ourselves.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Take all the time you need. I¡¯ll be on shore when you¡¯re ready, at The Settled Inn.¡±


    ____


    John was fuming. ¡°I don¡¯t trust him!¡±


    ¡°Neither do I,¡± Ben said.


    They stood at the Hazard¡¯s damaged prow, leaning on stays and watching the sunset. Laurier wondered if he¡¯d ever see it rise again. He supposed he would always wonder that. ¡°Then why are you so eager to help him, Ben?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say I¡¯m eager, but John¡­we need friends right now. Allies. The world is so uncertain¡ª¡±


    ¡°The world has always been uncertain for men like us.¡±


    Benjamin sighed. ¡°It has been, but you¡¯ve actually hit my point right on the nose.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°My father always told me that someday I¡¯d have to run. My mother told me someday I¡¯d have to hide. You¡¯ve even told me that. I tried to love England as my father did, and you mocked me for it. I hated you for that. God, how I fucking hate to see you proven right.¡± He sighed. ¡°But you were right. You, my parents, even Jacobson. I was never going to be accepted, not in the pre-Cataclysm world. It just wasn¡¯t in the dice for me.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying, Ben?¡± John moved towards him, reaching out to touch him, but remembering his Corrupted hand and stopped himself short, ashamed.


    If Ben saw the motion, he didn¡¯t show it. ¡°They¡¯ll know I¡¯m alive, John. The leadership of Jamaica, they all fled to Kingston. Right now, they¡¯re just trying to survive and figure out what to do about the Behemoth, but eventually they¡¯ll settle down and someone somewhere inside the Admiralty Board will wonder, ¡®Did anyone ever execute that bastard Vhingfrith?¡¯ They¡¯ll receive word that the Lively is still on the sea, captained by a half-Negro with a cat¡¯s-eye. They¡¯ll know, John. And then they¡¯ll come for me.¡± He added, ¡°And they¡¯ll catch me.¡±


    John shook his head. ¡°I won¡¯t let them. Do you hear me, Ben?¡± Tears were in his eyes but he kept them at bay. ¡°I won¡¯t let them.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your choice, John. Not forever. But if I¡¯m going to increase my chances, I¡¯ll need friends.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got me¡ª¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good start, but I¡¯ll need others.¡±


    John shook his head. ¡°You¡¯re not thinking¡­about going on the account, are you?¡±


    ¡°John, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Goddamn it, Ben! I know I¡¯ve teased you about your love for England famously, but¡­fucking hell, I¡¯m trying to get bloody Dobbs out of this shit life! I tried to do it for myself when I went back to England with your father. Oddsummers was right, you know. I tried to find a way back. I¡­I tried to¡­¡± The tears welled up now, then flowed down his face.


    ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you stay in England? John, you could¡¯ve done so without much money. You could¡¯ve started a new life, with a new name.¡±


    ¡°I was going to,¡± he said, wiping a tear. ¡°But then I sailed with your father. I thought it would only be a for a while. And then I met you.¡± Another tear fell. ¡°And so I stayed.¡± He reached into his pocket and pulled out a locket. Benjamin¡¯s locket. He returned it to him. ¡°I stayed for you.¡±


    Benjamin¡¯s face fell. He reached out and touched John¡¯s chin. Wiped his cheek. He pulled John in and kissed him and John let himself feel it. Then John tried pulling away but Ben put a hand around his waist. Their tongues met.


    When Ben finally pulled himself away, he stared at John¡¯s blue eyes, then guided him belowdecks, guided him by his hand, then when they were back inside his cabin he kissed John deeply before putting a hand on his head and guiding him down to his knees. John felt himself swelling while looking at the growing bulge in Ben¡¯s breeches. ¡°With your teeth,¡± Ben said, and John obediently pulled at the drawstrings with his teeth, then bit down on the cloth and pulled Ben¡¯s pants down to his ankles. He marveled at his cock, kissed it, took it in his left hand. John ran his tongue along the shaft and then took it in. Ben moaned and John opened the back of his throat to admit all of him. ¡°Yes¡­John¡­yes!¡± John took him in. All of him. Until Benjamin was down his throat and John ran his tongue along his lover¡¯s balls.


    Ben took handfuls of John¡¯s curly hair and started pumping him, his breathing becoming heavy. John could not help but be enraptured, feeling privileged and lustful and hungry. His chin became went and it ran down his neck and chest as Ben pumped savagely. He fucked John¡¯s mouth with total abandon and John held his Corrupted hand to one side and gripped Ben¡¯s ass with the other. He had never felt subservient to anyone, but he wanted to be Ben¡¯s servant. Bent thrust and thrust, and he did not stop until he arched his back and let out a final moan and was spent in John¡¯s mouth and John was kissing his shaft lovingly as it settled back down.


    Moments later they were lying in the hammock where John usually slept, and Ben caressed John¡¯s hair and kissed his forehead softly. John felt protected and sheltered as he never had before, and rested his hand on Ben¡¯s chest, keeping his Corrupted hand well away from Benjamin¡¯s body, afraid the talons would cut him. They both listened to the ship creak and moan.


    ¡°This makes sense, John. You know it does.¡± Benjamin continued their conversation as though it hadn¡¯t ever stopped.


    ¡°Goddamn it, Ben. Why not do as Arthur told you, and just go to the northern Colonies?¡±


    ¡°To where? To Massachusetts?¡± He kissed John¡¯s forehead. ¡°They may reject slavery more than most, but I¡¯ve heard plenty of stories of black men, women, and children being abducted and taken to plantations in the southern Colonies. I don¡¯t know that I¡¯d be any safer there than here.¡± He looked up at the ceiling. ¡°And there¡¯s other scores to settle here, John. You know that about me. The Santo Domingo. She¡¯s still out there, and captained by the man who killed my father. I vowed never to leave the Caribbean without settling up with him.¡±


    Laurier wiped his eyes. Touched Ben¡¯s fingers with his un-Corrupted hand. ¡°I thought I was going to lose you. When Munt told me about¡­I thought I was going to lose you, that I¡¯d arrive in Port Royal and find out I was too late and that you¡¯d already been hanged.¡±


    ¡°But you weren¡¯t too late, John, my love. You weren¡¯t late. You came for me.¡±


    John said nothing. Then he wept and fell into Benjamin¡¯s arms. It felt like a release of everything he¡¯d been holding back since he left England on the Equinox. It felt good, and yet it was agony. He hugged Ben close and sobbed. In all his dreams, where his plans were revealed to him through fog, he¡¯d never once seen a world in which Benjamin Vhingfrith wasn¡¯t in it. The horror of that thought outmatched any horror he¡¯d seen from the firmament.


    Finally, Ben gently pulled away, and kissed his hands. Both his hands. Then he got up out of the hammock and guided John, by his Corrupted hand, back up to the prow of the ship. They both looked out over the water.


    ¡°When they write about us, they¡¯ll do it with less and less words, you know,¡± John said, sniffling.


    Ben blinked in confusion, smiling. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Down through the centuries, I mean. Because history books are already filling up with names. Our names are just two more, and they won¡¯t have room on the page to say everything about us that needs to be said. So they¡¯ll write less and less. After a while, they just use two or three words to describe a person. Alexander the Great. Sums it up. Olga of Kiev. William the Conqueror. John the Ladyman. The Devil¡¯s Son.¡±


    He touched Benjamin¡¯s cheek.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what crimes we¡¯ve committed, or what good deeds we¡¯ve done, because they¡¯ll all just be forgotten. They won¡¯t care about you, Ben. Or us. They can¡¯t care about us, any more than you can care about them, because they haven¡¯t been born yet, those people who will read our pages. You¡¯ve always been worried what long-dead men like your father and not-yet-born men like these historians think. Fuck them all. They¡¯re either dead or don¡¯t exist yet. What say do they have in this moment you and I now occupy? So let them write, Ben. Let them all disapprove. And please, Ben, please, just let me hold you. Can you do that?¡±


    The world held its breath for these two.


    At last Benjamin said, ¡°I can, John. I can for a while. But there will come a time when I have to return.¡±


    ¡°Return to what?¡±


    ¡°To my job, John. What else?¡±


    ¡°Your¡­?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m no pirate, I¡¯m a privateer. For the moment I accept this, eh, errand we¡¯re on and I am grateful for the help. But I cannot do this forever.¡±


    ¡°So you will try to go back? To them?¡± He pointed east, and meant England. ¡°Why? They want you dead. All of them.¡±


    ¡°Not all of them. Not yet. And even if they do, who says I cannot seek redemption?¡±


    John scoffed. ¡°I cannot believe you! Ben, where will you go when they¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where will you go, John? Hm? You¡¯ve raided and sacked from here to Antigua and back. English, Spaniards, French. Small fishing villages. Forts. Brigs and galleons. Where will you go when the victims of your predations come seeking their well-deserved vengeance? How many innocents have died for¡ª¡±


    ¡°Innocents.¡± John said the word like the end of a funny story. ¡°What innocents? You mean in Porto Bello? You mean the soldiers who daily enforce the cruel taxations of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Men providing for their families, John. That¡¯s what they were. And how many more have to die in this growing scheme of yours to have a ¡®Free World¡¯? As if anything in this world can ever be truly free. You mocked me for chasing after a dream, but at least mine is not a delusion that has me believing there can every be equity and freedom for those such as us¡ª¡±


    ¡°So you seek acceptance instead of vengeance. Acceptance, to act as chameleon with sophist guile, changing your bloody fucking colours to blend with shit-eating poppycocks that have you scrub their floors before they¡¯ve¡ª¡±


    ¡°There is such a thing as having a lot in life, John! We are assigned these things at birth. Our lots. And we cannot change them! The best we can aspire to is some semblance of legitimacy and respectability, to minimize our exposure to the bloody whims of gods or tides or the firmament or what-have-you!¡±


    John¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You want to be one of them,¡± he said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be hanged, John,¡± Benjamin laughed ruefully. ¡°Are you listening? Is that so bad? I don¡¯t want to end up at the end of a noose. Better the sea take me. Or the firmament. Or a sword. Or a spider bite.¡± He added suddenly, ¡°And I want you.¡±


    John shook his head. ¡°Well you can¡¯t have me, not if you want to walk in their world. We are destined for two different places. You cannot have me in your world, Ben.¡± He smiled. ¡°But in Libertalia?¡±


    Benjamin looked at the sky, avoiding John¡¯s gaze. Then he looked back at him.


    ¡°Meet me there?¡± John said. ¡°When all this is over. Promise me that, Ben. Meet me there?¡±


    Benjamin sighed, and looked away again. ¡°Contemptible man. As if I can could ever be rid of the one thing that gives me joy.¡± He held John¡¯s hand. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you there. Wherever ¡®there¡¯ is. Libertalia or no, I¡¯ll always find you. Wherever you are. And even when you are gone, and your bones lay mouldering at the bottom of Galt Trench, I¡¯ll be there with you, as well. And on to Fiddler¡¯s Green.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± A tear fell from John¡¯s cheek, though he tried to remain stoic. ¡°Because I don¡¯t want to be alone. I want to know someone somewhere is thinking of me. And loves me.¡±


    ¡°It will always be me, John. Contemptible man. You should know that by now.¡±


    ¡°Swear it to me, Ben. For I am devoted to you as much as I am this dream. Swear it, and I¡¯ll know your love for me is real. Not merely a physical distraction, but real.¡±


    Now Ben touched John¡¯s cheek and felt the prickly bristles. He kissed him. ¡°You will not be alone. Wherever you go, I will find you. And should you die beyond my sight, I will find your bones, and there will lay mine, as well. I swear it, my love. It cannot be any other way.¡±


    Benjamin drew him into a kiss, and suddenly the sun flickered as though it was thinking of dousing, thinking of another Long Night. But it stayed. Just now, it stayed.