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“Fair enough.” He looked out into the tavern and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “But know this. After tonight, don’t come looking for me anymore. You’ll mark us both as dead men if we draw attention.”
“You’re wasting my time.” If he could see my eyes under the shadow, he’d know I was holding a gaze strong enough to burn through the flesh on his face. My fists clenched at my side.
“Allright, damn.” He finally spoke. “Daven is my shipper.”
“He’s a shipper for many a company.” I rolled my eyes, aggravated with the way this man danced around giving me the information he promised. “What does he ship for you? What merchandise it that was so imperative that he filled every last ship in his fleet to the brim with?”
The man looked shocked. He stepped backwards uneasily. “How did you hear my conversation with him?”
Dropping my guard, I lunged at this hulking man, pulling my knife from my belt and digging the tip into the skin of his neck. I no longer cared what Codface saw.
“I didn’t just put a bounty on my own head for that shitty scrap of information.” I growled. “I know more than you think already. Yes, I heard your conversation yesterday. So, tell me what it is Daven transports for you or I’ll deliver you to Thane myself—piece by piece.”
I could hardly believe the words coming out of my mouth. I hadn’t negotiated like this for centuries. But this was how I survived then. And it was how I was going to have to survive now. A pirate’s life was anything but gentle.
Hook grabbed my wrist with his good hand before speaking again. I pushed the blade against his skin, drawing a thin line of blood.
“You’re just as unhinged as Thane.” He laughed. “Daven transports shipments for me and my company—The West Royale Trade.”
“You’re a slaver?” I spat, knowing all too well that dreaded company name.
“Is that a problem?” The man coughed.
I didn’t respond. I was too busy processing it all. As I loosened my hold on the man, unable to think properly enough to know what to do next. He shoved me backwards and sauntered past me, knocking me into a table, but I didn’t care. I straightened and picked up my knife as I watched him leave. But I couldn’t move from that spot. Because I couldn’t believe my father—the man who’d always preached nobility and the value of life to me—was shipping people across the Atlantic like stock animals.
18
Over A Barrel
Milo
As I connected the pieces, it slowly made sense, no matter how much I didn’t want it to. Father’s fleet was made up of large cargo ships, and at some point or another, I’d been aboard all of them, however briefly. But more recently, that year, he’d only assign me to the same ship— The Marietta’s Jewel— for the few voyages on which I accompanied. And each time I was ordered to stay behind and man the vessel while he took the cargo ships inland for a “quick exchange.” Or I’d be sent to a different port to offload that ship separately. The last voyage we’d made to the African coasts was supposed to have been a normal delivery of textiles and rum. But clearly Father had arranged some additional dealings. How long had he hidden it from me? When did he stop transporting merchant goods and switch to being a pack mule for the slavers?
A pit formed in my stomach. My life had been a lie. I hated many things about Nassau, but it was a place where every man was equal, free from the confines of societal expectations. It was a haven of refuge built by outcasts and fugitives, exploited poor men and aristocrats turned rebels, men born free and men who fought their way free alike. No one was lower or higher. The only thing that owned us was the sea. So, I couldn’t comprehend how my father was part of something that stood against everything I thought he’d always believed.
A part of me refused to believe it. My father wouldn’t do this. He couldn’t have been this desperate for money. I needed to see for myself. If not for the commotion going on at the harbor, I would’ve snuck aboard one of his ships right then to take a look at the other ships’ cargo holds or his captain’s log. But I couldn’t risk being seen. Not now.
For now, I needed to get as far away from here as I could. For all I knew, the man I’d pushed overboard had told everyone that he saw me cause the explosion. What had I done?
I took off into the night, stealthy and silent, making my way to the farthest corner of the island. There was one building where I knew I’d be safe for the time being. The old church.
It was a symbol of refuge on this night as I saw the white stone cathedral contrasting against the midnight sky. The bell tower was cracked, and the doors to the sanctuary were barely still hanging on to their hinges. I stepped inside the small building, not expecting to see anyone else here this time of night. The candles were unlit, but by the light of the moon streaking down in bands through the bell tower opening, I could see the inside well enough. Old wooden pews lined either side of the aisle I trudged down with echoing footsteps. It stirred up the vaguest of memories.
My mother came here often. She loved to pray. I’d come with her a handful of times as a child, but it wasn’t a place to which I typically chose to venture. How ashamed she’d be of the life her son had made. In some ways, I was glad she died before seeing what I became. She couldn’t have prayed for my forgiveness enough. But she would’ve tried anyway, I knew.
And did she know of my father’s sins? Maybe that’s why she was here so much. No. If Father worked so hard to hide it from me, I’m sure he hid it from her, too. But why? Why did he turn to something so vile when our merchant business had always sufficed? I supposed for the same reasons he turned to Valdez. The need for money. But I wasn’t aware of whatever great debt he owed that drove him to this.
I sighed, sliding down into the second-row pew just meters from the altar up front. It was a relief to finally pull the hood back from my face and let the cool air refresh me. My weary body ached, and I leaned forward, hanging my head over the back of the pew in front of me.
Suddenly I remembered the rosary I’d taken. With tired hands, I rifled through my pants pocket. I knew there was some method to this, but I didn’t know it. I remembered bits and pieces from watching my mother in passing…Somewhat. With uncertainty, I took the rosary beads in my hand. It was easy to see the dark dried blood on them against their vivid red. Making the cross symbol across my forehead and chest, I bowed my head.
“Forgive me,” I grumbled into the empty air, “for my sins and the sins of my father.”
Of course, I expected the silence that came after I spoke. But it was painfully deafening. “Please. I seek forgiveness.” I no longer knew if I was asking God or myself. I thought of killing that man on the shore. And nearly slicing open Hook’s throat. And lying to Katrina and then failing to keep her safe through all this. And all the things I helped Valdez accomplish. And now here I was—a pirate with three centuries of guilt weighing on his shoulders, praying for forgiveness in an empty, rotting church with a stolen, bloody rosary.
19
Overboard
