Page 28 of If I Go Down with This Ship

Finally dressed, I hurry up to the deck.Oh, I know I look ridiculous.The crew snickers and laughs as I pass, and I press my lips into a thin line even as I wave and nod to them, trying not to let it get to me.As soon as I’m on deck, Mick thrusts a line at me, ordering me to pull.The new blisters on my hands scream as I grip the rope, but still I pull as hard as I can, hand over hand.I don’t know the calls; they’re still garbled wordsthat everyone but me seems to understand, so I follow Mick’s lead, clinging to his side like a sea urchin.

“Faster!”Captain Night yells from the helm.

I glimpse him across the ship, my body seemingly drawn to him by some magnetic force.My cheeks are flushed from working the lines, and sweat trickles down my forehead and cheeks and over my lips, but I don’t stop, pulling and maneuvering until my muscles are screaming.Wiping my sleeve across my face, I blink against the day’s sun, scanning the ship until I find Captain Night again, but his attention is caught by something on the water.What is he after on that ship in the distance?What are we going to do once we’re in range?

It’s only a speck on the horizon, but it grows larger and larger with eachdu-dumpof my heart.I have seen countless pirate battles made in Hollywood’s vision.They were always fast-paced and brutal, over in mere minutes.But this is real, and I have a feeling it’s going to be nothing like I’ve imagined.

Worse.Quite possibly worse.

“Lasz,” Mick calls.Water pounds against the side of the hull as the wind picks up and carries us ever closer, the white sails stretched taut with the breeze.I swallow down the lump forming in my throat and squint up at Mick.“It’s going to be fine!”he tells me.

“How do you know?”

“Because the only time we’ve ever lost, we were betrayed.”

That’s comforting.

I tie off the line like Mick showed me.Stepping back, I grimace and rub my thumb over the new blister forming on my palm.Being a part of a small crew means running around and filling in as needed, and my once-smooth hands are beginning to reflect the busy work.

Scowling, I drop my hands and survey the crew before finding Astra and Captain Night standing at the helm, intently studying the other ship.Neither Astra nor Jack slept in their hammocks last night, and here they are, heads still bent over that map.What are they up to?What’s aboard that ship that they so desperately need?

Jack claps Captain Night on the shoulder before whispering something into his ear.Captain Night responds, and Jack’s head snaps up, finding me across the ship.He jogs toward me, and reaching behind him, he produces a pistol and holds it out to me.

I take half a step back.“You can’t honestly think—”

“Take it,” Jack says, pushing it into my hands.“You’ll need it when we board.”

The pistol feels wrong in my hands, too heavy, too dangerous.I don’t know how to work the thing, but before I can say as much, Jack passes me gunpowder and ammunition until my hands are full, the pistol precariously balanced in my palm.

“Jack, what’s aboard that ship?”I ask as he shows me how to load it, pouring in the gunpowder before shoving a strip of cloth and one of the round bullets into the barrel with something that looks like one of those metal scrubbers used for straws.

Jack gives me a once-over as I pocket the rest.He grins, pinching the large, billowing sleeve of my tunic.“Nothing you need to worry ’bout.Glad to see you found some new clothes, though.”He squeezes my shoulder and nods to Mick before rallying the other pirates, his hands raised in the air in triumph.

I clench my teeth, hands tightening around the pistol as we come closer to the ship.We’re splicing through the water fast,faster than I thought possible, the waves crashing against the hull and making my stomach a mess of knots, but I can start to make out the details of the other ship.Their crew waits on the deck as we approach.

“Hoist the black!”Captain Night calls out.

I watch as our crew hoists a pirate flag high, the skull with a single dagger splitting through it stark against a blue sky.Though the crew ofShe Deceitfulcries out, teeth bared and flashing, all I can hear is ringing in my ears as the other ship raises a white flag in surrender.

Our crew does not hide as we near it, standing proud in their places around me, some poised at the cannons, others crouched with grappling hooks and netting at the ready.They’re thoroughly prepared, and they have every intention of seeing this through.

Whatever it is.

“Prepare to board!”Captain Night orders.

He strides from his place at the helm, and the crew parts for him as he stops and leans out over the railing, grinning.He has come alive since this morning, a strange sort of excited energy about him as we pull in alongside the other ship.There’s nothing left of the gentle man who nursed me back to health, who pressed a damp cloth to my forehead and whispered sweet words.Even still, though I know nothing will come of these feelings, I can’t help but track his every move.

The crew adjusts the sails, untying and easing up on the lines until the fabric slackens, and the movement of the ship begins to slow, a sudden surge of energy running through the crew as we slide to a stop in the water.There’s no walking away now, no lying about what I’m going to have to do if this turns to shit.

The other ship lies in wait as the crew around me throws hooks and netting, preparing to board.On the quarterdeck, Astra folds up a piece of paper and pockets it before crossing the deck and murmuring something low in Captain Night’s ear.He nods to them before motioning to the rest of the crew.

“This is it, crew,” he says.

Around me, the crew holds up knives and swords and pistols in response to his words, sweat trickling down their faces, expressions twisted with excitement.They love raids, it would seem, love this part of being a pirate.

“It can’t be this easy,” I whisper, searching the deck of the other ship.There are no weapons in sight; they just stand in wait.Who would give in so easily, and why?

“It is.”I jump in surprise, but Astra is unfazed.They watch me quietly, head dipping low, one hand on their gun and the other on the hilt of a knife.Their voice is a soft tenor, a Surrey accent, I think.“It’s a merchant ship.They want as little trouble as possible.”