Page 69 of If I Go Down with This Ship

“I thought we could stay for another day or two,” he says.

I scoff.“If we don’t leave soon, that lead will be inconsequential.”

“’S not my problem,” he slurs.There’s something calculating in his expression, but it’s gone quickly.He’s so drunk that he can hardly string together a complete sentence.

IknowI shouldn’t have eavesdropped last night in the trees, and I know he and I are not exclusive—or whatever the equivalent is here and now—but this has become completely irrational at this point.Silas has skewed this so far out of proportion, and I don’t know how to steer him back to the path he’s so carefully carved.

“Silas,” I start slowly, “can we talk in private?”

“You can say what you came to say in front of Charlotte.”

“Okay, well, you’re being a jackass, Silas.”I motion to the beach behind me, to the scattered, sleeping crew.“Astra and our crew rely on you,Irely on you, and you are letting every single one of us down right now to frolic around on the beach with an old pal.”

“Do you know what all I’ve given up to get here?”He steps away from Charlotte and toward me.His footsteps are hesitant, his feet dragging drunkenly in the sand.He stops just before me, and the bottom of my stomach drops out at the way those familiar, dark eyes are shining.“The sacrifices I’ve made to help people like Astra—you wouldn’t understand.”

I cup his face, smoothing my thumb over his stubble.“Then tell me.I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

He wraps his hands around my wrists, and for a fragment of a second, I enjoy the touch.But then he tightens his grip, and terror shoots through me.He is still not the Silas I know; he is Captain Night.This is the man who pressed his blade to my throat on that fateful day, the man who threatened to throw me overboard.

This is the man who ordered the shot on the captain of that trading ship, the same man who sliced a blade across Peter’s throat.How did I ever think he could change?

“Laszlo, you could never understand what I have—”

But his words are cut off as cannon fire splits through the otherwise quiet morning.We turn and watch in horror as the bow of a ship appears around the line of trees and a chunk ofShe Deceitful’s bow snaps off with the cannonball’s impact.There’s a line of open gunports along the side of the new ship.They have nearly double the number we do.A large crew runs across its deck, more below firing the cannons.

Instantly I know: We will lose if we fight.There are still a few crew members manningShe Deceitful, and even as they prep the cannons, I can feel Silas’s grip loosening as he crosses around me.

“It worked,” he whispers, starting down the beach.

“Silas?”I ask.

“By the stars, it worked,” he says, grinning.

“What worked?”I say, scrambling after him.“What did you do?”

Both crews are up and running, reaching for the weapons at their belts.Sir sprints into the brush, disappearing from the action.The longboats are being pushed into the water by a bleary-eyed, half-asleep crew.I step out of their way as they hurry past me, and Silas is farther away now.The crews run between us, yelling and calling for orders, sand flying everywhere.

But I’m not watching them, I’m watching Silas as he steps toward the water’s edge.He stops at the tide, water lapping against his bare feet as he looks out over the bay to his ship.What is he planning to do?

“Raise the white flag!”he calls.But they can’t hear him—the noise on the beach is too much, the cannon fire too loud.His lips move silently, and he pulls off his white shirt with a bit of trouble and raises it over his head, waving it back and forth in large, clear movements.

Surrender.He is waving for surrender.

This is highly unusual, especially for Silas.I’ve seen the renowned pirate Captain Night battle men.We are all wellaware of what he’s capable of, of the lives taken at his hands, but this is something else entirely.

And he is sober.It’s in the sureness of his stature, the steadiness of his frame as he stands on his tiptoes and raises his arm in the air.But how?He was drunk moments ago, wasn’t he?Was he just trying to fool Charlotte, to play at ease on this island?

Charlotte shoves past me and the frozen crew, stomping toward Silas.“What are you doing?”she yells as she skids to a stop in the wet sand.She gestures violently to the water.“We have two ships!We can destroy them!”She grabs his shoulders and shakes them, but he slips easily out of her grip.

Silas turns to Astra down the beach.

“No, don’t do anything.Not yet, anyway.”

I cross slowly toward them in a haze.The pieces fall into place with each sinking step.Silas led us into that stormon purpose.He took us to this island of all places becausethiswas the lead all along.It wasn’t some other port.

This was always about aroute.

And we have been waiting patiently in the middle of it.