“Ah, Captain Anne, I’m afraid the little thing has been bitten by a mermaid. Nasty wound.”
“Then bring her out so she can sit on my lap,” Captain Anne calls back. “I’d like to see just how much of a boon she really is; see howdeepthat good luck goes.” She laughs with lascivious mirth and is joined by plenty of voices.
I wrinkle my nose. Shouldn’t we women stick together?
“She’s not a toy for the likes of us, so you’d best shut your mouth if you want to keep all your teeth.” Hook’s voice cuts through all the others, and his reallydoesdrip venom.
“Hook doesn’t want to share his plaything?” Anne cajoles. “Doesn’t want to let me have a little taste?”
“One more word about her, Anne. One more fucking word.” I don’t know how death can become wrapped around a tone, like a suffocating black note played on a piano of bones, but that’s what Hook’s voice sounds like.
The pirates fall silent, and I can imagine all eyes are on Anne.
“Enough talk. More rum.” Blackbeard slices through the tension. “The agreement’s made, and Captain Hook sets sail tomorrow. Our work here is done. It’s time for the revel. It’s been too long,fartoo long since I’ve gotten shit-housed with all my closest friends and worst enemies—once again, looking at you, Jack. Now, who wants to tell of their latest victory? Anne, you start. I heard you sacked a galleon full of nuns. Is that true?”
The silence returns, heavier than before. I pause, straining to hear what happens next—will she taunt Hook or let it go?
After what seems like an unbearably long wait, Anne’s voice rings out. “Ah, I love that story. All true. I ran upon them off the coast of Isla de Puta, a whole—wait, what do you even call a bunch of nuns? Agaggleof them?”
“A spit roast for the likes of you,” one pirate yells, and they all fall out with laughter.
Cringe. I drop low onto my hands and knees and use some scratchy bushes as cover as I veer away from the house and try to find the quickest path to the tree line. I need cover, and the palmtrees can hide me from the pirates who’ve started up a sea shanty about a drunken sailor.
When I’m crouched beside the last bush between me and the trees, I look out at the expanse of sand that I’ll have to cover. It’s wide. Too wide. The chances of someone spotting me are good, especially now that the moon is half full and almost overhead.
I look back at the house. A sailor hangs out a front window, a bottle in one hand, as he sings as loudly as he possibly can. Anne is still telling her story inside, and a few more pirates spill out onto the porch with bottles in their hands.
There’s no way I can make it now. Shit.
I scurry back beneath the bushes and look around again. If I go slowly and stay low, I can get back to the side of the house and try to make it to the beach from the backside. The way doesn’t have much cover, but hopefully no one will be looking.
Struggling through the sandy undergrowth, I crawl along until I get out of sight from the porch. Then I stand and limp to the back of the house. Once I check to make sure it’s clear, I take off across the sandy expanse and head for the trees.
When I make it and lean against a trunk, the sea ahead of me and the house behind, I let out a breath of relief and listen to see if anyone sounds the alarm.
I wait a while, but no one comes, no bell rings—nothing happens. I’m in the clear.
The moon shines down on me as I go from tree to tree, crabs skittering away into the surf where seashells gleam.
The pier is ahead, Sally still keeping watch. I sneak up to it, the house loud with singing and yelling. At least no one’s shooting anymore.
There are several boats pulled up on the other side of the pier. I’ll have my pick. The water draws my eye, and I stare at it. The waves seem relatively calm, but the black water gives me some flashbacks that make me have to take a deep, shuddering breath. I catch the scent of smoke, probably from a cigar. The pirates are in full party mode. This won’t be easy, especially in my weakened state, but I have to escape. Facing Hook isn’t going to end with me still breathing. At least this way, I have a chance.
I keep close to the pier and try to see if there’s a way underneath it without getting into the water. There isn’t, and I can’t bring myself to swim for it.
I creep back to the trees and wind my way through them to the other side of the pier. Once I’m back at the surf, I choose the boat closest to me. It seems sturdy, especially when I try to push it into the water and it doesn’t budge.
“Shit.” I grit my teeth and push again, my leg burning from the effort.
“There she is.” A surprised voice. “No wonder she wasn’t in her room. Fuck me at our luck. Grab her!”
I spin and see two pirates coming at me, one of them carrying a burlap sack.
“No!” I run, but the only direction open is toward the sea. When my feet hit the water, I freeze, fear rooting me to the spot.
Rough hands grab me, and I scream as the sack comes down over my head. It smells of fish and grease, and I thrash as apirate picks me up and throws me into a boat. I yelp with pain as I land hard against the unforgiving lumber, and then the boat rocks more.
“Shut up or we’ll shut you up.” One of them kicks me, not hard enough to hurt, but he gets his point across. “Go and fetch the captain. He’ll want to get on back to the Ranger.”
