Page 70 of If I Go Down with This Ship

The new ship comes to a stop as the anchor is dropped, and a white flag is raised aboveShe Deceitful.It is a sight I never thought I’d see, one that sends a shiver down my spine.Silas swivels toward me.There is still something straining between us, but I know now what he has done, what he was trying to tell me without tipping off Charlotte and her crew.

Last night when he argued with her, he was arguing in favor of this quest, of standing up for his crew, for Astra, and for all the others who were hurt by careless people.And though there was betrayal in his eyes when I ran from the trees, and though there is a strange air between us, the jealousy thatpoisoned me is dissipating, and when I smile at him, there is a gentle tug at the corner of his lips.

Just enough to give me hope.

Two longboats begin their row to the beach, and I know without a doubt that Astra will find peace today, one way or another.

23If There’s a Will, There’s a Wave

There’suncertainty in the crew as Silas speaks to them.The offending ship sits in the bay, unmoving.Waiting.

The wait is the worst part, watching as the longboats from the other ship grow, minuscule specks in the distance turning into people with faces as they come closer.We are in the same position as the merchant ship we raided weeks ago.What do you do whenyou’rethe one raising a white flag of surrender?I’m not sure where to stand or what to do with my arms, so I cross and uncross them, anxiety piquing.

I watch as ten members of our crew disappear across the beach and through the trees.When I look back at Silas in confusion, he says nothing, just turns to the water, searching for something.

Astra paces on the sand as the longboats draw nearer.We’re still missing half our crew, but when I peer out to the water and beach, there is no sign of them.I wait with Silas on thesand, the half of the crew that’s still here—minus those aboardShe Deceitful—standing at our backs, hands on their pistols and knives, shadows of uncertainty across their features.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?”I whisper, leaning toward Silas.

“I have this handled,” he tells me instead.

Frowning, I pivot to scan the beach.Charlotte and her crew rest at the tree line, crouched in wait, hands reaching for their own weapons as they watch us in silence.

Silas hasn’t pulled his shirt back on, so I sneak a peek at him, my gaze dragging over his skin.My attention snags on the scar across his heart, then slides to the tattoo of a wave crashing on his left shoulder.A slight sheen of sweat glistens across his tanned skin as the sun rises higher, and I recall us rolling in the sand yesterday, falling back into the warm ocean as we laughed and kissed.

What I wouldn’t give to be back there.

“You’re staring,” Silas whispers, tilting his head at me.

“Sorry.”I clear my throat, but Silas’s pinky brushes the back of my hand, there and then gone, and it reminds me of the way our hands touched on the rock on the beach all those weeks ago, back when I was still formulating a plan to steal his coat.I smile, ducking my head to control the blush creeping up my neck.

“Do you want to hear a joke?”Eddie asks from somewhere to my right.

“Now is really not the time,” Mick says.

“Why was the crew’s morale low?”Eddie asks instead.

“Eddie,” Mick scolds.

There’s a long silence, and I think Eddie has given up on his joke for now, but then he sucks in a sharp breath and says, “They let themselves gettidedown.”

The beach is silent for a beat.And then Silas chuckles, and I can’t help it, I laugh, too, and soon the whole crew—or what’s left of it—joins in.We must look like a group of maniacs, holding our hands to our bellies, a cacophony of screeches and cackles as the other ship’s crew approaches the beach.

But Silas’s laughter cuts off too soon, and the rest of us fall silent in anticipation.

The incoming crew clamber out of their boats, wading through the water to the beach.They are dressed much the same as we are, although some are in finer fabrics and richer colors.The captain stands out among them, his cream brocade coat nearly blinding under the sun.He has lacy frills at the edges of his sleeves, and his gold pants shimmer when the light catches them just so as he crosses the sand toward us.

His cleaner, fanciful clothes paired with the rather large ship makes me think they’re wealthy.Certainly wealthier than us.

The captain steps forward, his jacket flung back to show his hand resting on his pistol.He doesn’t appear to be a man who can fight hand to hand, let alone beat Silas’s speed with a pistol.No, he looks tired and haggard, at the game too long.

“Who is the captain here?”he demands.

I straighten with a frown and glance at Silas.How can he not see it?The way Silas stands, the jut of his chin, the narrowed eyes, the way the crew surrounds him—he is a captain, through and through.There is no mistaking him for anyone else.

Silas steps forward.“Captain Rivers, is it?I’m Captain Silas Night,” he says with a polite nod.

But where Silas is cordial, the other captain is hostile.“How did you know about our route?Who told you?”