Black's Lair

BLACK’S LAIR

Rosa Marchisella

© 2022-2023

Digital ISBN: 978-1-989016-78-7

Chapter 1

Captain Black loomed over Young Gilroy Vance, pressing his attack. He winked at the lovely Miss Miranda Danesbury, who watched in wide-eyed terror. Just the way he liked his women. And she was his. Young Vance would never see his dreams of love come true.

The cold light of the moon glinted in his hard eyes, raced along the edge of his blade, and gilded the slick edges of the Bloody Mary. It accented Miss Danesbury’s lithe frame and the Bloody Mary’s sleek build with equal vigor. It caressed both brown curls and cannons.

Built for speed and agility, the Bloody Mary spent years ruthlessly hunting other ships and out-maneuvering them. Tonight, she was cheek-and-jowl with the plump merchant ship, Lady Sparrow. Her deck rang with the shouts and metal clash of desperate men fighting for their lives.

Black’s mistake had been sending the majority of his crew aboard the Lady Sparrow, though one could argue his mistake started earlier. He made so many bad choices since he boarded the rich vessel. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Black suspected this one may be the last.

Chaos swept across the Lady Sparrow. His crew screamed and scrambled to return to the Bloody Mary. Most either plunged into the cold waters or swung back to the Lady Sparrow. The ships were too far apart.

Black’s attention flickered from the Lady Sparrow to his surroundings. His crew on the Bloody Mary was outnumbered, and their force dwindled quickly. He needed to extinguish brash Vance quickly and restore order. Then, he’d settle his score with Miss Danesbury.

With his attention diverted, Vance’s cutlass struck his ribs. Black cried out in surprise and stumbled to the railing.

A high-pitched shriek sounded. Miss Danesbury raced toward him to slam her slight body into him like a rugby player. She bounced off his chest and skittered away. Black pitched off-balance. He reached for her, fingertips sliding across the soft ribbon of her dress before he toppled over the rail.

The sound of his body hitting water was lost in the roar of the Lady Sparrow exploding.

The fighting stopped as the stunned crew of the Blood Mary stared at the burning wreckage off their starboard.

Gilroy Vance raised his cutlass and gave a victorious cry. The Lady Sparrow’s crew cheered and moved to disarm their defeated opponents.

Miss Danesbury raced into Vance’s arms and they kissed, passionately.

♦

“You make it sound like our lives ended after that,” Miranda groused. She pulled a shirt from the clothesline and folded it with quick, precise movements. Her once lithe body had rounded out with age and grey streaks peppered her curls.

“Well . . .” Gill buried his ax in the chopping block and wiped his brow. “Things haven’t exactly been exciting since.”

Miranda shooed a chicken away from her basket of clean clothes. “Exciting? Who has time for ‘exciting’ between raising children and housekeeping?”

Gregory rolled his eyes and continued to stack split against the side of the house. Nearly the same age his parents were when they faced Captain Black, he’d heard this argument a hundred times or more with never a winner. It never stopped his parents from playing their parts, though.

“It’s not like it’s a big house,” Gill grumbled. Their modest house had seen better days and the repairs had been made by someone who lacked skill, but it was a good home.

Miranda put a hand on her hip. “Don’t you get started on that! You’re the one who had to do the honorable thing and leave all the treasure behind! We could have had a big fancy house and servants, but no!”

Gregory mouthed, “but no” in time with Miranda. She turned her fiery glare on him.

“Don’t you give me any sass, young man.”

Gregory blushed. “Sorry, Mum. It’s just that you two always argue about not going back for the treasure and I don’t understand why not.”

Gill’s frown deepened the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. “There’s blood on it. That’s why not. Good and honest people died because of it. If we were to take it and live rich off their deaths, it would be like we helped kill them.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Gregory snorted. “So long as their deaths were avenged, why should all that treasure go to waste?”

Miranda snapped a sheet she folded, narrowly missing Gregory’s nose. He jerked back, startled.

“It’s the honor of the thing.” Miranda dropped the folded sheet into her basket. “The dead don’t rest easy when someone profits from their demise.”

Gregory dropped the last piece of wood on the pile and dusted his hands. “Where’s the honor in living like dogs when the treasure could be doing good for people?”

Gill adjusted the cuff of his worn shirt, fingering the embroidered ivy pattern. “Better a living dog than a dead lion.”

“How about a new library? Or feeding orphans? Would the dead rest easy then?”

Miranda and Gill exchanged a concerned glance. “You’re an odd boy, Gregory. I don’t know where you get such ideas.”

Gregory frowned and crossed his muscular arms. “I’m not a boy anymore, Mum, and I get my ideas from you and Da. You wish you could’ve done more with your lives. Well, there is. You’re the only one who knows where the treasure is now that Black is dead. Why don’t you go claim it? Put it to good use.”

Gill smoothed his fingers over the embroidered pattern again and exchanged another uneasy look with Miranda.

Gregory frowned, confused by their silent communication. “What?”

Gill cleared his throat and pulled the ax from the chopping block. “Our adventuring days are long behind us.” His tone lacked conviction. He stared at the pile of wood, hands flexing on the handle. “Besides, the key to Black’s Lair went to Dave Jones’s locker, along with the rest of that rabble. It doesn’t do any good to waste time dreaming about what can never be.”

Gregory gave a disappointed shrug and watched the chickens peck in the shade of the shed. It was the same answer his parents always gave: No key, no treasure. His parents were both stubborn when they put their minds to a task. Why would they let the lack of a key stop them? There must be a way . . . He sighed. Arguing never changed their minds. Stubborn.

Gill blinked at the ax in his hand as if seeing it for the first time. “I think that’ll be it for me today. I’m not as durable as I once was.”

“Nor as dashing,” Miranda muttered, shuffling further down the clothesline. “That never stopped you from flashing your smile around when you want something.”

She winked to soften the impact of her words. Gill smiled faintly.

“I’ll finish up, Da.”

Gill handed over the ax. “All right, then.” His eyes wandered over the matching ivy pattern on Gregory’s cuff and the far-away look returned. “I’ll just toddle off to Murray’s for a bit.”

Miranda frowned. “Be back before supper or you’ll eat it cold.”

Gill dropped a kiss on her shoulder. “I won’t be late, sweet lady.”

“I’ve heard that before,” she muttered as Gill left the yard.

Gregory split his log with one smooth motion. “You’re too hard on him, Mum.”

Miranda tsk’ed in annoyance. “What do you know of it?”

Gregory shrugged loosely. “I know he regrets not doing better by you.”

He started a steady rhythm: place the wood, swing, and split . . . Thump, whoosh, crack!

“When he’s in his cups at Murray’s, he goes on about how you’re too good for him.”

Thump, whoosh, crack!

“How he should have let you marry the man your uncle picked for you.”

Thump, whoosh, crack!

“So you’d have all the fine and fancy things you deserve.”

Thump, whoosh, crack!

Miranda froze. “He says that?”

“And more.” Thump, whoosh, crack! “To hear him speak, one would think you’re still the ‘sweet lady’ he fell in love with.”

Miranda bowed her head to hide the tears in her eyes.

Thump, whoosh, crack!

“He loves you so much, Mum. It breaks his heart that things are hard for you.”

Thump, whoosh, crack!

Miranda turned away, shoulders shaking in silent sobs.

Gregory stopped. “Are you okay, Mum?”

“Of course.” The crackle in her voice belied her claim and she wiped the tears from her face roughly.

Miranda yanked the remaining items off the clothesline and dropped them into the basket without folding them. “I have to start supper if it’s going to be ready by the time your da gets back. Be a good boy and make sure the ax gets put away proper.”

She snatched the basket and hurried to the house. If she ever existed outside Gill’s love-fevered mind, his sweet lady was long dead. It was best to forget those days.

Chapter 2: The Past

Excitement sizzled through Gilroy Vance as he stood between his father and Captain Moore. He was nervous enough to vomit as he watched the crew load the Lady Sparrow for his first adventure with Vance & Font Trade Co.

Captain Moore checked his pocket watch as Mister Vance alternated between wiping the unnatural sweat from his pale brow and coughing into his brightly colored handkerchief.

“Now Gill, you mind Captain Moore. He doesn’t need you underfoot. You’re just a representative, nothing more. Font’s already taken care of all the details in Port Royale. You just smile, nod, and flirt with the pretty girls.”

The swirl of a skirt caught young Vance’s attention. Mister Vance followed his gaze toward the dock where a pretty lass smiled at something her elderly chaperone said.

Mister Vance stiffened. “Except her.” He thumped Gill on the head with a forefinger, then waggled it under his son’s nose. “Mind me on this, Gilroy. You’re taking Miss Danesbury to the Caribbean to wed a friend of her uncle’s with whom we’re trading. No mischief!”

Young Vance blushed and returned his attention to his father. “I’m not a wally, Da. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Moore assured. Ignoring young Vance’s withering look, the captain stepped forward with a friendly smile to offer his hand. “Miss Danesbury.”

The younger lady smiled sweetly, placing her gloved hand in his. “Good morning, Captain.”

“You look resplendent this morning, Miss Danesbury.” Moore bowed over her hand.

“Thank you, Captain. This is my companion, Miss Abigail Pennybuckle.”

Captain Moore nodded cordially to Miss Pennybuckle. “Welcome to the Lady Sparrow, Miss Pennybuckle.”

Miss Pennybuckle’s thin lips stretched into a smile, wrinkling the weathered skin of her cheeks. “Thank you, Captain Moore.”

Mister Vance shoved his handkerchief into a pocket and stepped forward. “Miss Danesbury. Miss Pennybuckle.”

The ladies turned to him with a smile. He extended a hand in greeting.

Miss Pennybuckle ran a critical glaze over him and put a restraining hand on Miss Danesbury’s arm.

“Mister Vance. How nice to see you up and about.” Her reed-thin voice cut the air between them.

Mister Vance’s smile faltered as he withdrew his hand. “All our hopes and aspirations for the future sail out with this ship. Nothing could keep me home today.”

Miranda glanced at her companion before offering a kind smile. “Of course.”

Young Vance cleared his throat. His father’s lips curled in a sardonic smile. “Forgive me, ladies. My son, Gilroy.”

Gill stepped forward and bowed over each lady’s hand. “Miss Danesbury. Miss Pennybuckle. It will be a pleasure accompanying you to the Caribbean.”

He flashed Miss Danesbury an extra charming smile. She threw an amused look to Miss Pennybuckle. The elder lady arched an eyebrow and looked down her nose at him in a bird-like stare. “How kind. Make yourself useful and bring our bags, if you would.”

Vance’s smile faltered.

Chapter 3

Groans and rough muttering echoed around the empty common room of Murray’s Tavern as Gill laid his cards. “Another one for me, boys.”

Murray, the tavern’s namesake, and owner threw his cards down in disgust. “Every bleedin’ time!”

Gill reached for the small pile of coins, looking at his companions for confirmation. Shep shook his balding head with a sigh. Neville clicked his tongue and sent his cards spinning across the table. Gill raked the pot with a grin.

Neville stretched his tall frame and rubbed his paunch. “You got anything to eat, Murray?”

Murray puckered his thick lips. “Naught but leftover stew the Widow Harris brought by.”

The men shuddered and Shep made a retching sound.

Neville slumped back in his seat and looked forlorn to the door. “Too bad Miranda’s not here. She’d whip us up some nice grub.”

He nudged Gill with his elbow. “Fancy yourself some company for supper, Gill?

Gill’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you think my sweet lady wants to see your ugly mug at her table?”

Neville blushed. The others laughed and thumped his back, good-natured.

Shep’s laughter turned into a cough and he took a swig of his drink. “Where is Miranda? Surely she’s not having to watch over your boy.”

“Nah. I just wanted a few rounds tonight. It’s no fun when she always wins.”

Murray grunted in agreement. “She’s got the devil’s luck.”

Gill’s smile lit up his eyes and color filled his cheeks. “I remember the look she got the first time I saw her roll the dice.”

Miranda loved to dice with the Lady Sparrow’s crew. Her eyes twinkled and a wild pixie grin flashed. Oh, how that look made his heart race.

“She blew on the dice and . . .”

Miss Danesbury whopped as the sailors shook their heads in disbelief. She’d beat them with their own dice. Again.

Then that stuffed hen of a chaperone called for her.

His companions waited for him to continue, but Gill was lost in memory.

The sun sparkled on her upswept hair and kissed her delicate shoulders. She gathered her winnings and stuffed it down her bodice.

“Until tomorrow’s nap, gents,” she promised.

Every eye watched her with admiration as she dashed off. She won a lot of coins that day, along with a few hearts, including his.

Gill smiled and shook the memories away. “She beats me fair and square every time. Problem is, she’s a bloody jinx. Even when she’s not playing, I can’t win a cursed thing so long as she’s in the room.”

Shep pushed his cards away. “Well, you’re doing fine enough now. I’m out. I need every copper I have left to pay the blacksmith.”

“Yuh.” Murray shoved away from the table and shuffled to the bar to refill his drink. “I’m out, too.”

Neville tucked his large hands under his arms. “Me too.”

Gill sighed. “Ah, well. I suppose I should get home before Miranda has reason to blister my ears.”

He pocketed his winnings and headed to the door. “G’night, boys.”

“‘Night, then,” Neville grunted. Murray waved his drink in way of farewell.

“Hold up, Gill.” Shep stood, leaning heavily on his gaff pole. I’ll walk with you a ways.” He hobbled around the table, wooden leg thumping against the floor in steady beat.

Chapter 4

Miranda stirred the bubbling stew with her long-handled spoon. She loved this spoon. Gill made it for her so she stopped burning her wrists and singeing her hem when shorter spoons forced her too close to the fire.

Mother said she could sew her way to heaven, but cooking would always be hell for her. Mother was right. She could make her food taste good, but cooking never got easier.

THUMP.

“You all done outside?” Miranda glanced over her shoulder, looking for Gregory.

He didn’t reply. Miranda shook her head. Typical boy. They only hear when you say something they like.

Movement in the corner of her eye warned her a heartbeat before someone grabbed her from behind. Hands closed around her arms and a body pressed against her. She could tell from the stench it was neither Gregory nor Gill having fun with her.

She stabbed over her shoulder with the steaming hot spoon, making contact with something solid.

A shriek blasted her ear, followed by a wave of fetid breath. Her attacker released her. She spun to confront an alarmingly thin man hunched over with both hands over his right eye. Greasy dun-colored hair swung around his face as he glared at her with his good eye. “You stupid slag! You nearly put my bloody eye out!”

Miranda lunged to go around him and he grabbed her arm. “Oh no, you don’t!”

She pulled her arm. Too light to resist, the man stumbled forward. Hoping she was strong enough to jerk free of his grasp, she bolted. The intruder had a two-handed grip on her forearm and dug his heels in, dropping his bottom like a child pulling on the lead of a donkey. The wrench on her arm catapulted Miranda back toward him. He fell completely on his behind, still gripping Miranda for all he was worth.

She tripped over him and slammed into the table which, in turn, smashed into the fireplace with a splintering crash. Flames gnawed the overturned table hungrily as the pair grappled on the stone floor. Miranda kicked her attacker and scrambled away from him.

Eel quick, he pounced on her back and snaked an arm around her neck. She jabbed desperately over her shoulder with the spoon again. This time, he caught the spoon and yanked it from her grip.

“Not this time.”

Miranda threw herself backward and landed hard atop him, willing herself to be heavy as an elephant. The man wheezed and his arm loosened. Miranda rolled away and stood.

The table was ablaze and flames licked the rafters.

Miranda dashed for the door and jerked to stop as a hand snagged her ankle. She pivoted and kicked her captor in the face with her free foot. The man yowled and released her.

Chapter 5

Ax still in hand, Gregory bolted toward the front door. The high-pitched scream frightened a decade off his life. He’d never heard a cry like that before. It was not something he wished to repeat.

A tall bald man stepped from the shadows to block his path. Gregory stopped short.

“Nice ax.” The stranger’s face split into an alarmingly wide grin, showing a set of jagged teeth. “Mine’s nicer.”

He hefted an ax with a blade as jagged as his teeth. Gregory took an involuntary step backward. The bald man laughed and swung at him. Gregory jumped back to avoid the savage blade. The ax bit into the side of the house, gouging a chunk from the wooden frame. Gregory gaped at the damage, then turned his stunned gaze to the bald man.

The man gave a satisfied grunt and advanced with another swing. Gregory parried. The impact jarred his arm and he grunted.

The memory of the scream echoed in his ears and the smoke eking from the house made his heart clench. Ma’s in serious trouble.

Gregory clamped his jaw in determination and attacked.

Chapter 6

Greasy smoke and flames reached greedily for Miranda’s hem. Breath rasping, her captor gripped the spoon in a white-knuckled grasp and dragged her into the living room by her hair.

Miranda knew she could outlast him if she kept fighting. Her hopes of escape dashed when she saw two men tearing her home apart.

The redhead with rat braids cussed. “Not one bit of jewelry, Quinn! Not a candlestick or even bloody hatpin in the whole place!”

The sound of her captor’s gasping made Rat Braids and his heavily tattooed companion, Quinn, turn. They spied her captor and burst into laughter.

Her captor stiffened and swiped at his bloodshot eye. “What’s funny, eh?”

“You, mate!” Rat Braids crowed. “You look like you got worked over by the blacksmith!”

He did. Besides the eye, his face was swollen where she kicked him, soot-covered his clothing, and his hair was smoldering in several places. By comparison, Miranda was mildly disheveled and with soot-smudged hands.

Her captor snarled and jerked Miranda’s hair until she squawked. “She’s stronger than she looks.”

His companions laughed harder. Quinn motioned to the spoon. “What do you intend to do with that thing, Jelly? Paddle her bum if she gets out of line?”

Jelly snarled. “She nearly put my bloody eye out with it!” He pressed his mouth to her ear and growled, “I intend to return the favor.”

Convinced of his sincerity, Miranda slammed her elbow into Jelly’s gut. He released her with a grunt.

Miranda raced toward the kitchen. A solid object slammed into the back of her head and she pitched forward into darkness.

Chapter 7

 
Sweat dripped into Gregory’s eyes. Heat from the blaze at the back of the house washed over him, but it wasn’t the only reason for the sweat. The bald man’s ax skill required every ounce of Gregory’s attention, strength, and speed. The longer he held off his attacker, the more aggressive and wild the man’s fighting became. He obviously hadn’t expected resistance. He was glad to ruin the man’s plans, but he needed to end things quickly before the other man overpowered him or his mother burned to death.

Gregory feigned a lunge. The bald man jerked back and swung his ax to block. Without Gregory’s ax to stop his momentum, the man went wide, giving him an opening to hook behind the ax head and jerk the weapon from his attacker’s hand.

The bald man stared at him in opened-mouth disbelief.

Gregory smiled, pleased. “Viking Combat Reenactment Club.”

The bald man’s eyes flickered over Gregory’s shoulder. Something slammed into the back of his head. His limbs unlocked and Gregory fell to the ground, head reeling.

A tattooed man stepped over him with a belaying pin in hand. “I have to do everything myself.”

The bald man snarled and snagged his ax.

The tattooed man tucked the belaying pin into his waistband as two more men arrived. One wore his red hair in matted locks like a Viking. The other looked like he’d been at the losing end of a boxing match and carried his mother over a shoulder. “Can we go now? She’s heavy.”

The one with Viking braids crossed his arms. “I ain’t leaving without some loot.”

The tattooed man rolled his eyes. “Quit your mewling, you pair of sods.” He motioned to the bald man. “Ripper, take the woman.”

The ax man hoisted his mother effortlessly.

Gregory struggled to stand and the tattooed man turned to him. “Nah, son. You stay put.”

He tried to move out of the belaying pin’s path, but his reflexes were too slow. The sound of the wood connecting with his skull reverberated in his ears.

Chapter 8

 
Shep drifted to a stop, eyes wide, and pointed to the horizon with the tip of his pole. “Ain’t that where your house should be?”

The night sky glowed orange above the treetops. The moon played hide-and-go-seek through heavy clouds. Gill squinted. “Yes, but what—?”

Fire! Not clouds. Smoke.

Shep forgotten, Gill raced home.

The house was engulfed in flames and the toppled woodpile turned the yard into an inferno. Gasping for breath and gripping his side, he staggered to the front door. “Miranda!”

The heat of the fire pushed him back and sucked the moisture from his skin.

Gill circled the house, looking for a safe entry. “Miranda! Gregory! Oh, God! Oh, God-have-mercy! Miranda!”

He choked back a sob. Useless. Flames lashed out every window and door.

Shep arrived. Grimacing in pain, he leaned heavily on his pole to catch his breath.

Gill looked at him with a haunted expression. “She’s gone. My sweet lady is gone.”

Shep’s face crumpled, tears in his eyes. “Oh, Gill—”

A groan from the shed’s shadow startled them. Gregory struggled to his knees. He touched his head and retched.

“Gregory!” Gill ran to his son and wrapped an arm around his waist. Gregory stared at the blazing house. Orange, yellow, and red danced in his glassy eyes.

Gill shook him to get his attention. “What happened, son?”

Gregory struggled to focus his eyes. “Men came.”

Gill’s grip tightened. “Men? How many? What did they want?”

Shep dragged the chopping block over and they helped Gregory sit.

“I - I don’t know. Three . . . No. At least four. One snuck up behind me and cracked me over the head. One had jagged teeth and an ax . . . One with Viking braids in his hair and another . . . The other one had . . .” The haze vanished from his eyes and he sat straighter. “They took Mum!”

Delirious from heat and euphoria, an eerie titter of relief escaped Gill. “She’s alive?”

Gregory touched his head gingerly. “I-I think so. I don’t know. She wasn’t moving.”

“They wouldn’t have taken her if she was dead,” Shep offered.

“Why take her at all?” Gregory asked. “What did they want? We haven’t anything worth stealing. All they took was Mum.” He looked around. “And the chickens.”

Gill looked at the burning house. “I don’t understand.”

“I think I do.”Shep shuffled, his wooden leg scratching in the dirt. They look at him in expectation. He refused to meet their eyes.

A hard knot formed in the pit of Gill’s gut. “What is it?”

Shep’s fingers knitted together. “Your boy said one of them had braids in his hair. That tickled me memory.” His eyes flickered to Gregory. “Was one of them covered in tattoos? Mermaids and the like?”

Gregory nodded and Gill’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Shep shifted, fingers weaving invisible yarn. “’Member a few days back when I went up the coast to get Merry Belle repaired?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I was enjoying a cup or two of ale at Sanders.”

Gregory dropped his head in his hands.

Gill groaned. “Aw hell, Shep. What did you do?”

Shep held out his hands like a shield. “Nothing. Just talked, that’s all . . . Though I guess it was enough.”

Shep resumed his agitated shifting. “There was these gents hanging around. One with braids like Medusa’s cursed shadow and the other covered in tattoos. They was talking about pirates and . . .”

Gill rubbed his face. “Heaven protect me from a blundering friend!”

Shep wrung his hands together. “I-I didn’t think nothing of it at the time. You’ve told that story a hundred times, yourself!”

Gill put a hand on Shep’s shoulder. “Peace, Shep. You couldn’t have known.”

“I still don’t understand, Da. What do they want with Mum?”

The corners of Gill’s mouth dragged deep. He looked grievous ill. “The location of Black’s Lair.”

Chapter 9: The Past

 
Alone in Captain Black’s cabin, young Miranda Danesbury rummaged through the papers atop the desk. “Come on! Come on!”

She yanked open the drawer and rifled through its contents. Frustrated, she slammed her hand against the top of the desk. “There must be some kind of weapon in here!”

She spied a plain, clear glass decanter. “Ah-ha! This’ll do nicely.”

Grabbing the decanter, she hefted it to test its weight. Satisfied, she pulled off the stopper and raised the decanter to an imaginary crowd. “Here’s to fortitude and a quick rescue.”

Up-ending the decanter for a swig, she froze. There was something on the bottom of the decanter. She put the stopper back in and turned the decanter upside down to inspect the tiny markings. “What the devil?”

She moved closer to the lamp and held the decanter up, peering through the body. The markings loomed larger, refracted through the liquid and magnified by the round glass.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Pandora with her hand on the box.”

Captain Black stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

Miss Danesbury fumbled the decanter. “I-I was just having a drink.”

Black closed the door. “And found the only map to my secret lair.”

She cringed. “I-it was a mistake.”

Black pulled his dagger and held it between them. It was a beautiful weapon, delicately inlaid with silver. If its razor edge didn’t gleam so wickedly or hover so close to her throat, she might have marveled at its elegance.

“There is no salve for mistakes, Miss Danesbury.”

Black spun and threw his dagger in a fluid motion. It struck the far wall and buried into the wood, millimeters from a familiar face, partly bandaged and pale.

“Come to feel my peaches before they’re ripe, Mister Lynch?”

A young man cowering in the shadow forced his wide-eyed gaze away from the blade to Captain Black. “I . . . came to see if you wanted refreshments.”

Lynch’s eyes strayed to the decanter.

Captain Black scoffed. “Is that so? Your fine Captain Moore used to let you wander into his cabin unannounced, did he?”

Lynch shrunk further against the wall he was pressed against.

“I-I don’t know nothing, sir.” His gaze flicked to the decanter again. “I-I swear.”

A crooked smile twisted Black’s lips. “Survival instinct makes blind men and mutes of us all, does it?”

Lynch swallowed heavily. “Y-yes, sir.”

Black made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “Get out.”

Lynch hesitated.

“NOW!”

The boy jumped as if physically struck and bolted from the cabin, slamming the door behind himself. Black stared at the door thoughtfully, stroking his beard.

Miss Danesbury struggled for breath. “H-how did you know he was there?”

Black crossed to his dagger and pulled it out of the wall. “The question is, how did you not? His smell should have warned you he was here long before I arrived.”

Black sheathed his dagger. “There’s an old Scottish toast. Perhaps you know it.”

He took the decanter from her and held it aloft. “‘Here’s to you, as good as you are; And here’s to me, as bad as I am; But as good as you are, and as bad as I am, I am as good as you are, as bad as I am.’”

She struggled to understand the toast while Black yanked the stopper off the decanter and took a deep drink. Instead of handing it back, he threw the bottle against the wall. It smashed with a wet explosion. Shards of glass shot in every direction.

Black crushed the pieces of glass under his boot to make sure they were too small to put back together.

Miss Danesbury licked her lips nervously. “Aren’t you worried I might have memorized it? I might tell someone once you’ve ransomed me back to my family.”

Black crossed to her with a dark grin. “‘When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child.’” He put a hand on her cheek. “It’s time to put away childish things, Miss Danesbury.”

Chapter 10

 
Gill sat with head in hands. Shep patted his shoulder while Murray watched Gregory pace the floor of the tavern, ax in hand.

Neville leaned back in his seat, rubbing his face. “It’s not just a story? She really is a lady. I thought it was just a pet name you gave her. Like apple-cheeks or somewhat.”

“No.” Gill sighed. “She really is a lady.”

Murray licked his lips. “Then what the devil are you two doing living in a hovel out here with us?”

Gill barked a dry laugh. “Hiding.”

Gregory growled. “Not very well.”

Gill sighed. “I’ll start by going down to Sanders. Maybe I can find a trace of the bog-lickers who took my Miranda.”

Shep straightened. “I’m coming with you.”

“That’s not necessary, Shep.”

“Yes, it is. I’ll never be able to live with myself if anything happens to your missus because I couldn’t hold my liquor. I’m not much good in a fight, but I can sail a ship for you.”

Gill glanced at his son, reluctance tugging the corner of his mouth. Finally, he nodded.

Neville shot forward in his seat. “Me too! I’m coming, too.”

Neville looked at Murray expectantly. Murray held his hands in front of his chest and shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I have a tavern to run.”

“All right, then.” Gregory headed for the door. “Let’s go!”

Gill grabbed his arm. “Slow down, son!”

Gregory turned on him, wild-eyed. “Those villains have Mum! We have to hurry!”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m knackered and Shep needs to stare at the insides of his eyelids for a bit before he can set sail.”

Shep nodded. “Sanders is only up the coast a bit. If we leave at first light, we’ll have time to see if anything survived the fire before we set sail.”

Gregory ground his teeth and Gill patted his shoulder. “She’s been in worse scrapes than this. She’ll be all right ’til we get to her. Besides, your mother can be charming when she wants. She probably has that rabble eating out of her hand.”

Chapter 11

 
Tied hand and foot, Miranda dangled over the bald man’s shoulder. She raised her head and squinted to make out her surroundings in the dark.

She glimpsed a harrowing figurehead and gold lettering, Endeavor. Sleek and, by the number of cannon ports, heavily armed. This was a true pirate ship.

Why did it have to be pirates?

They climbed the gangplank.

Miranda thrashed. “Let go of me, you naffer!”

Baldy tightened his grip, and the one called Jelly wagged her spoon threateningly. Tattoos and Rat Braids, who carried the carcasses of her best laying hens, ignored her.

Baldy dropped Miranda at the base of the mast. She landed heavily on her shoulder.

“OW! You bloody ponce! Untie me ri—”

Tattoos shoved a skunky rag in her mouth, but Miranda continued to rant. Disinterested in her flow of garbled venom, he tied her to the mast while Rat Braids disappeared.

Jelly glared at her from behind Tattoos and pointed to his bruised eye with the spoon.

Tugging the knots tight, Tattoos flashed a mouthful of shark teeth and patted her head. “Night-night, pet.”

Then she was alone in the dark.

Chapter 12

 
Face twisted into a rictus of torment, Gregory stroked the ax tucked into his belt absently while Shep and Neville rooted through the smoldering rubble. Fueled by the woodpile, the fire had raged all night, destroying everything except the shed at the end of the yard.

Gill emerged from the shed wearing a ratty pack slung across his chest. “Well, this is it. Everything we own fits in this sorry bag.”

“OW!” Neville sucked his finger.

Shep eyed him with amusement. “Burn yourself?”

Neville shook his head and held out a sewing needle. “Pricked myself.”

Gill gave a strained laugh. “Leave it to you to find something that shouldn’t be possible.”

He took the needle with a bemused smile. “Things can’t be all bad, then. It’s Miranda’s lucky sewing needle. Mayhap it’ll save us again.”

Gill threaded the needle through the seam of his underwear and looked around one last time. “Off we go. My sweet lady hates it when I’m tardy.”

Chapter 13

 
Cold saltwater shocked Miranda from sleep with a harpy shriek. She blinked stinging water from her eyes. Jelly loomed over her with a bucket in his hand. Her spoon was tucked into his belt.

I’m going to shove that spoon right up his—

Quinn yanked the gag out of her mouth and both men stepped aside. An imposing man with a patchwork of ancient scars puckering his face crouched in front of her. Her lungs forgot how to work. White streaks peppered his sandy hair and the parts of his face not scarred were sea-scoured, making his age impossible to gauge.

The unadulterated hatred in his dark eyes terrified her in ways his scars didn’t. Enmity radiated across the distance and pressed her against the mast.

“Welcome aboard the Endeavor.” His voice chilled as fiercely as his animosity burned.

“W-what do you want with me? I’m not worth anything.”

“You are to me. Remember this, Miss Danesbury?”

The man held up a dagger.

The blood drained from Miranda’s face. She shook her head. No. It wasn’t possible. This wasn’t just any dagger he held. The silver inlay haunted her dreams—Black’s dagger.

“I-It can’t be.”

A cold smile slithered across his face as he purred, “But it is.”

Miranda shrank away. “He’s dead. I saw him die.”

The man’s smile widened, pulling at the chords of scar tissue. His hard marble eyes glinted. An icy lick of fear caressed her spine.

“No, my dear. You saw him fall. Only I saw Captain Black die. ’Twas nearly the last thing I saw as I took the key from him. His fingers were buried in my flesh as we sank into the brine. I had to hack his fingers off to be free of him. Even then, it was nearly too late for me.”

Miranda searched the humorless faces of the men around her.

The scarred man twirled a lock of Miranda’s hair around his finger with unnerving intimacy. How did this wretched man know her?

“I’ve spent twenty years looking for you, Miss Danesbury. Twenty years visiting your lovely kin, hoping one of them knew where to find you. Starting with your fat uncle in Port Royale.”

Releasing her hair, he dragged his forefinger across his throat.

“No!” She’d walked away from her relations to protect them. How many died? What cruel fate had this twisted man bestowed upon them?

He considered her soberly, fingers unconsciously tracing the scars on his face. “Not all my endeavors were as satisfying.”

“Rot in Hell!” Miranda sobbed.

His lips pressed together thoughtfully. “Perhaps I will, but first, you’re going to lead me to Black’s hidden treasure.”

He stood and motioned for Quinn to untie Miranda. She stared at the mermaid tattoo on his forearm while he worked.

“I don’t remember where it is.”

The scarred man raked her with those terrible eyes. “I don’t believe you. You’re far too clever to have forgotten something so important.”

He turned and Quinn dragged Miranda after him. Jelly whacked her behind with the wooden spoon. She squawked in indignation. Mocking laughter followed her below deck.

Chapter 14

 
The men followed Shep as he hobbled across the street. Thick fog blanketed the port, muffling the scuff and tap of his wooden leg and gaff pole.

“Bloody fog,” Gregory muttered. Neville grunted in agreement.

“Don’t curse it too loudly,” Gill admonished. “Right now, it’s our only ally against them what took your Mum.”

Gregory scoffed.

“If they’re traveling by sea, they’ll have to weigh anchor ’til the fog lifts,” Shep explained. “It buys us time to catch up.”

Gregory grumbled and shoved his hands into his pockets. Gill shook his head. Was I so childish at that age?

“Here it is.” Shep motioned to a dingy building with salt-crusted windows. The sign above the door read “Sanders Tavern”.

He held the door open for them and Gill got his first look at the infamous tavern while the others crowded in behind him.

Cleaner than its exterior, Sanders Tavern bustled with grounded sailors and chatty locals. Flickering shadow hid the face of a hooded figure in the corner. Gill dismissed them. He was looking for a group of men, not a lone traveler.

“Oi!” the burly man behind the bar shouted. “Leave that thing by the door!”

“Aye.” Shep stopped to prop his pole next to the door while the others headed for a table.

“Bloody fog,” someone grumbled. He caught a glimpse of matted locks from the corner of his eye. Viking braids Gregory called them. A bloody mess is what they were.

“Another couple hours won’t make no never-mind,” his companion replied.

Shep turned as the second man reached for the door. Mermaid tattoo! He clamped a hand on the man’s wrist. “It’s you!”

The men turned to him, confused.

“Gill!” Shep shouted over the din. “It’s them!”

The tattooed one cussed. “Let go of me!”

The man tried to pull from his grasp. Shep held on with both hands. “Gill! Gill!”

The one with the matted hair shoved him. Shep stumbled backward, tottering for balance on his wooden leg.

Gill, Gregory, and Neville raced to his side, scattering alarmed patrons. Neville caught him before he hit the floor.

Shep pointed. “Them’s the ones!”

The pirates reached for the door.

Gill grabbed the tattooed one by the arm. “What did you do with my wife?”

Tattoos turned on him with a belaying pin in hand, and Gill dodged, barely avoiding being clobbered.

Gregory snagged the other man by the ends of his Viking braids and caught a blow to the gut in exchange. He doubled over with a grunt of pain.

“Didn’t have enough last night, boy?”

“I’m . . .” Gregory wheezed for air. “Not. A. Boy!”

He straightened to deliver a punch of his own while Gill dodged another swing of the belaying pin.

“Here!” Gill’s head jerked toward the speaker. The hooded stranger tossed a bar stool at him. He caught it by the leg and swung at Tattoos, knocking his arm wide. The man howled and dropped his weapon. Gill used the opportunity to smash him in the face. Tattoos went down and Gill pinned him to the floor with the bar stool.

“Where’s Miranda?” he bellowed.

While he was fixated on the tattooed man struggling to get free of the stool, the redhead knocked Gregory and turned toward him, knife flashing. Shep’s gaff hook snagged the knife from the man’s hand, nearly taking a few fingers with it. A few vicious jabs of the hook tore the man’s cheek open and sent him reeling.

“What did you do with my wife, you bas—?”

The redhead staggered into Gill. Both men tumbled over the stool, shouting and howling.

Tattoos scrambled to his feet and looked around for options.

Shep blocked the front door with his gaff pole. Neville picked up the fallen knife and brandished it with incompetence and determination. Gregory and Gill struggled to stand. The redhead curled around his injured hand, yowling in pain.

Tattoos grabbed the nearest tankard of ale and tossed it in Shep’s face. Shep threw his arm up. Snagging his companion by the collar, Tattoos bullied his way past the sharp hook and disappeared into the fog with the redhead stumbling behind.

Gill raked the cowering patrons with a dangerous look. The hooded stranger had disappeared, but the rest of them . . . “Tell me what you know about those men.”

The patrons exchanged nervous looks.

Gill hefted the bar stool by the leg. “SPEAK!”

Everyone burst into babbling at once.

Chapter 15

 
Miranda slumped wearily on the bed. Her head still ached and the smell of the roast which filled the captain’s quarters made her stomach uneasy.

“I never thought you two would run back to England.” The scarred man shoved a slice of beef in his mouth. “Especially when you could have stayed in the Caribbean and gotten rich off coffee, tobacco, and spices.”

Miranda grimaced. He sounded like Gregory.

An urgent hammering rattled the door. The captain put down his fork. “Come.”

The door slammed open and Quinn dragged Rat Braids. The redhead had a blood-soaked rag wrapped around his hand and held another to his face.

“Her old man tracked us down. Nearly tore Fitch’s fingers clean off.”

Hope surged through Miranda. Her brave Gilroy never let her down.

The captain stood to inspect Fitch’s face. “So. The dog still has teeth.”

A sinister grin crept across his face. A worm of fear writhed in her belly and Miranda was relieved when he turned his awful gaze to Quinn. “Rouse the men. I want to weigh anchor the moment the fog starts to thin.”

Quinn glanced at his companion and swallowed furiously. “Aye, Captain.”

She watched the pirate’s swift retreat with envy.

“What about me?” Fitch whined.

The captain grabbed his wrapped hand. Fitch squawked in pain as the captain peeled off the bandaging to reveal a pulpy mess of blood-crusted flesh.

“You’ll never shit a seaman’s turd, now.”

The flat finality in his tone stole the warmth from her body. Miranda wrapped her arms around herself.

Fitch held his mangled hand to his chest and trembled. His voice took a pleading tone. “I-it’ll heal.”

“Not fast enough.” The Scarred Captain pulled the pistol from his waistband and shot him in the chest. Fitch’s limbs drummed a gruesome death beat as he hit the floor. Shock contorted his face. Miranda tore her eyes away.

“Jelly!”

Miranda flinched and watched the door to avoid the horror at her feet.

Jelly stopped cold in the doorway and stared at Fitch for a moment before forcing himself to meet the captain’s hard gaze.

“A-aye, Captain?”

“Feed him to the fishes.”

Jelly’s eye twitched. “Aye, Captain.”

She couldn’t watch. No matter how many animals she’d butchered over the years for meals, she couldn’t bear to watch Jelly drag the body across the room. She wanted to cover her ears to block out the wet sound of Fitch’s seeping blood and the incessant scrape of his belt across the wood.

“Jelly.”

Miranda cringed and risked a peek.

Jelly froze in the doorway, eyes wide and fingers white-knuckled around Fitch’s ankles. “Captain?”

“Close the door behind yourself.”

Jelly’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Yes, Captain.”

He hauled the body over the threshold and closed the door.

Alone.

The captain placed his pistol on his table. The malice bubbling beneath his skin radiated through the room. It caressed her. Probed her. Smothered her.

Miranda scrubbed her sweaty palms across her skirt and summoned the pluck of her youth. She’d faced wicked men before, pirates and landlords alike. They fed on fear and she needed to starve this bastard. It was easier to find your spine when you had facts, though.

“Are you going to rape me?”

“Rape you?” The captain barked a dry laugh and raked a critical gaze across her body. She fought back a shudder, feeling naked and vulnerable. “That thought has brought me pleasure for many a year, but no. I don’t want you too traumatized. At least, not until we reach Black’s Lair.”

He crouched next to the bed, voice soft. “Then, I’m going to take back the last twenty years of my life from you. One way or another.”

Chapter 16

 
The men made their way through the heavy fog, shoulders curled under the oppressive ambiance.

“We could try to sneak aboard and make off with Miranda in the fog,” Neville offered.

“Four men against a shipload of pirates?” Shep scoffed. “Are you daft?”

“Just a suggestion,” Neville replied sullenly.

Gill’s sigh seemed wrenched from his very marrow. “I’m going alone.”

His companions protested, Gregory louder than the others. Gill stopped and turned on them. They fell silent.

“If all they want is the map to Black’s Lair, Miranda can draw it for them and we’ll be on our way.”

Gregory crossed his arms. “And if it isn’t? Then what? We let a bunch of pirates spill your puddings?”

Gill rubbed the back of his neck. “We don’t know they’re pirates.”

“Well, we know they’re not law-abiding folk,” Neville rumbled.

Gill scowled. “I’m going alone, under a parlay. If I don’t come back in two hours, go to the magistrate.”

Gregory opened his mouth. Gill shot him a hard look. His jaw snapped shut and muttered a reluctant agreement.

Gill gave a satisfied nod and resumed walking. Neville and Shep exchanged a concerned glance and followed.

A movement in the shadow caught Gregory’s eye. Seeing nothing amiss, he hurried to join the others.

Chapter 17

 
Gill grunted as he hauled himself over the railing of the Endeavor. The years of Miranda’s cooking and the damp of the fog made the task harder than he imagined.

A group of men waited for him. He recognized the tattooed man from the tavern. The man’s clenched fists and murderous glare unnerved him. Gill searched the group for his redhead companion until an imposing man with a horribly scarred face stepped forward.

“Out for a tour of the bay?” The question elicited snickers.

Gill stiffened his spine and pointed to the white handkerchief tied around his arm. “I’m here to discuss the release of my wife.”

“Are you, now?” The scarred man’s eyebrow arched. “What gave you the impression I’m willing to negotiate?”

Captain. Gill flashed his most charming smile. “Well, you didn’t open fire on me.”

The captain’s brows lowered. “Don’t let that lull you into a false sense of security.”

His stomach sank.

A towering man leaned in and snapped viciously serrated teeth at him.

“Uh-oh,” someone giggled. “Ripper’s hungry.”

Gill blanched. Time to change tactics. “I know why you took Miranda. If you let me talk to her, I can get her to draw the map for you. Then you won’t have need of us and we’ll be on our way.”

“Now, why would I do that? ’Tis true, your missus ain’t much to look at anymore, but ‘any port in a storm’, as they say.”

Gill flushed a violent shade of red and his fingers curled into fists. The crew around him reached for their weapons. He forced himself to relax.

“Knowing the location won’t do you any good without the key,” he reasoned. “The lair is impenetrable.”

“I know,” the captain replied. “I have the key.”

Gill’s mouth gaped, mind racing to comprehend.

“As you see,” he continued. “I hold all the dice.”

Dice! Yes!

“I’ll gamble for her release!”

The captain scoffed. “You’ve got nothing to offer me.”

“If I win, Miranda will tell you all she knows about Black’s Lair and you let us leave peacefully. If I lose, you keep Miranda and . . .” He forced the words out. “I’ll join your crew.”

The cruel edge of the captain’s laugh gutted him. “What would I want with you? The row out here nearly did you in! Look at you. You couldn’t lift your arm to scratch your arse if your life depended on it.”

The crew mocked him with fake crying and flapping of arms.

Gill grit his teeth and held his pride in check. “I’m a hard worker and I won’t expect a share of the treasure. My babes are grown and your men burned my home to the ground. Without Miranda, I’ve nothing. I’d rather rot in your crow’s nest than go home without her.”

The captain eyed him thoughtfully.

“Very well,” the captain finally replied. Gill’s hope rose for the first time since he saw the fateful smoke on the horizon. “But I have no interest in your services. If you lose and I keep your sweet Miranda, you’ve no reason to live. I’ll slit your throat and consider it an honest day’s work.”

No! Gill opened his mouth to protest.

“Swag, some dice if you please.”

A roly-poly fellow with beads in his hair dropped dice into the captain’s waiting hand.

“Quinn, have Jelly bring our guest out for a bit of fresh air.”

“Aye, Captain.

Gill’s heart leaped to his throat in panic. He was dead for sure if Miranda got anywhere near those dice. “No!”

Every eye turned to him and a nervous laugh escaped. “I mean. No need to fetch her just yet. You know how women are about gambling.”

The captain’s smug smile stretched wider. “I certainly know how your sweet Miranda is about gambling.”

Baffled by the comment, Gill watched Quinn hurry away.

Chapter 18

 
Gregory paced, hands in his pockets. His shoes thumped against the worn planks of the dock like a second-hand tracking time. “This is taking too long.”

“Patience, lad,” Shep replied, making himself comfortable on a stack of crates.
“We should never have let him go alone.”

Shep rubbed his leg with a grimace. “Your da’s managed to keep his skin this long.”

Neville grunted in agreement, rubbing the back of his head.

Gregory made a disgusted noise. “By hiding like a criminal for half his life!”

“Your da’s a good man!”

“Even good men can be cowards,” Gregory grumbled.

Shep bristled and shook a finger. “You watch what you say about your da! By the time he was your age, he’d already had his share of danger! You say it makes him a coward. I say it makes him a wise man. Even the devil knows when not to push his luck. May you never have to learn the lessons your da has!”

Gregory dropped his gaze in shame and Neville rubbed the back of his head again.

“What the devil is wrong with you?” Gregory grouched.

Neville shrugged. “Don’t know. Something’s itchin’ at the back at my head.”

Shep rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind, Neville. He gets like that. Last time he had this problem . . .”

Both men stiffened, instantly alert.

“We were being watched,” Neville whispered.

Gregory looked around. “Where?”

They scanned the shrouded dock, peering into the shadows of the barrels and crates around them. Empty.

Neville clicked his tongue. “Guess I was wrong.”

Shep clumped back against a crate and it toppled over with a clatter.

“Ow!”

A hooded figure bolted from behind the crates.

“Get him!” Gregory shouted.

The men lunged. The figure dodged past them, only to be tackled by Gregory. They struggled, but Gregory was stronger. He pinned the stranger to the ground and yanked the hood off.

A stout woman in her early twenties snarled at him.

“Who are you?” Gregory demanded. “Why are you following us?”

 The young woman brushed a strand of dark hair from her face. “My name is Alice. I’m hunting the man who killed my father.”

She pushed him off roughly and climbed to her feet while the men exchanged uneasy looks. Alice was dressed like a man!

Chapter 19

 
The dice clattered as the Captain rolled them in his hand. Clakity-clakity-clakity. Gill resisted the urge to slap them from his hand.

“Gill!”

At last!

Quinn and a reed-thin man – Jelly? – escorted Miranda toward them. Exhaustion dragged at her face, but she bounded toward him like an excited kitten. The pirates jerked her back. She glowered at them. Jelly patted a wooden spoon at his waist menacingly.

“Isn’t that—?”

Miranda shook her head in warning and Gill stifled his curiosity.

“Thank heaven you’re all right.”

“What took you so long?”

Gill flinched at her petulant tone.

“How touching.” The captain gave him a conspiratorial wink. “There’s still time to reconsider.”

“Reconsider what?” Miranda looked around for an answer. “What’s going on?”

“Just a friendly little wager on the toss of the dice,” the captain replied.

“Oh, Gill.” Miranda groaned. “What have you done?”

The pirates chuckled and ribbed each other.

“One toss each,” the captain announced. “Highest score wins.”

Gill pressed his lips into a grim line.

“I’ll just wait over there.” Miranda turned to leave. Jelly jerked her back to his side.

The captain shook the dice and tossed them on the deck. Everyone leaned in to look.

“Nine.”

The crew cheered, stomped, and whistled their approval. The captain bowed and motioned for Gill to take his turn.

Gill gathered the dice with a concerned look to Miranda.

“Please, God!” she whispered, lacing her fingers together. “Just once. Please.”

Gill tossed the dice and watched breathlessly as they tumbled across the planks.

“Three.”

Gill and Miranda groaned in unison. The crew hooted and jeered.

The captain clapped Gill on the shoulder. “You never could win when she was around, Vance.”

Gill squinted at him, willing his brain to make the connection. “Do I know you?”

“Don’t you recognize me, Gill?”

“Should I?” Gill and Miranda exchanged an uncertain look and peered closer. Under the age and the scars . . . something familiar about the eyes and the way the corner of his mouth hooked in contempt.

The captain placed a hand over his heart and feigned a wounded expression. “I’m hurt. After all, you both swore you’d always remember my unique cologne.”
 

♦

 
Young Vance and Miss Danesbury leaned on the Lady Sparrow’s rail, gazing at the waves.

“You’ve never met this man?” Vance asked.

“Never,” she confessed.

“What if you don’t like him enough to marry?”

The breeze assaulted them with a rancid scent like spoiled milk and they gagged. Miss Danesbury pressed the back of her hand to her nose. “What is that wretched stench?”

Vance looked around and laughed.

“There’s your culprit,” he pointed.

Miss Danesbury turned to find a young crewman glaring at them, face scarlet with humiliation. Her mouth dropped open in surprise and embarrassed. She knew him, but what was his name . . .?
 

♦

 
Miranda and Gill look at each other in horror. “Lynch!”

The scarred man grinned, venom dripping from his voice. “Yes, Lynch.”

Gill shook his head. “How?”

Lynch sneered with utter contempt. “How, indeed.”

Chapter 20: The Past

 
Lady Sparrow bobbed as she cut through the waves, forcing Miss Danesbury to aim her next stitch careful. The sun was hot and the crate she sat on numbed her bottom, but she was bored and embroidering would land her in less trouble with Miss Pennybuckle than gambling.

“Oh, cor!” someone muttered. “Oh, blimey!”

Cook appeared, wringing the cap in his hands. “The Captain’ll have me ’ead for sure this time!”

“Lose something, Cook?”

Cook gave a startled yelp, then sighed in relief when he saw her. “Oh, Miss Danesbury. I thought you was the Captain.”

“Indeed?”A smile played on the corner of her mouth.

“I’ve lost the key to the brig again,” Cook whispered.

“Well, as long as the crew stays in line, we have no need of it.”

Cook twisted his cap again. “It’s not that, Miss. We keep the water rations and good wine there, so’s we don’t run out afore we reach the Caribbean. You see?”

Her smile withered. “I’m afraid I do. I don’t suppose Captain Moore has a spare?”

Cook’s Adam apple bobbed nervously. “Aye, but ’e’ll have me keel-’auled if ’e finds out I’ve misplaced it again.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” She put her embroidery aside. “Where’s the last place you remember having it?”

“I was . . .” Cook’s brows lowered and he tugged the cap. Hope lit his face. “I was with the Captain at the ’elm.”

“Then let’s check there first.”

She led the way to the bridge. Farley stood at the helm and watched from under bushy brows while they searched.

“This is mighty decent of you,” Cook whispered.

Captain Moore’s heavy footfalls approached. They turned with guilty expressions before Miss Danesbury smiled sweetly. “Good afternoon, Captain.”

Moore tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, Miss Danesbury.”

“Captain.”

“Cook. All’s well I trust.”

Cook strangled his cap and cast a worried glance at Miss Danesbury. “A-aye.”

“Good.” Moore nodded absently, turning to Farley. “A word, Mister Farley.”

A metallic gleam from the rail caught Miss Danesbury’s eye. She grabbed Cook’s arm and motioned with her chin. Cook snagged the key on their way past and they hurried back to her abandoned embroidery.

Cook clasped the key to his chest. “Cor! Thank the saints we’ve ’ad calm weather! I’d lose me ’ead if it weren’t attached.”

“Oh!” A sly grin crept across her face. “That gives me a splendid idea!”

She pulled the needle from her pattern and measured a new length of thread. “Key.”

“But, Miss—”

“Faith, Cook.”

He reluctantly placed the key in the outstretched hand.

“Hat.”

He handed over his cap and watched nervously while she sewed the key to the inside.

“Now, as long as you keep your head, you’ll never lose the key.”

She returned the cap to Cook.

He stared in wide-eyed reverence. “I-I don’t know ’ow to thank you, Miss.”

“Sails to the port!”

A sleek ship approached at an angle, riding high and sails full.

Miss Danesbury hurried back to the bridge and waited anxiously while Moore looked through a telescope.

Vance arrived, disheveled and gasping for breath. “Captain?”

Moore grunted. “I can’t see her colors.”

He passed the telescope to Vance.

“Another merchant ship?” Miss Danesbury searched his face for some clue to the situation.

Moore’s face was impassive. “Perhaps.”

“They’ve a lot of cannons,” Vance noted.

Moore scowled and snatched the telescope from him. “Go below, Miss Danesbury.”

She cast a concerned look to Farley. His weathered face remained indecipherable. Blast it. The sea scoured all useful emotions from them.

“I’m fine where I am, Captain.”

Moore snapped the telescope closed with more force than necessary. “That was not a request.”

His forbidding tone sent a chill through her. She cast a glance at the approaching ship. A lot of cannons.
Miss Danesbury grabbed her skirts and fled.

Chapter 21: The Past

 
The other ship was upon them by the time Vance armed himself with a cutlass. He could just make out the words “Bloody Mary” on the bow and they hoisted the Jolly Roger. Pirates. His heart sank.

“Prepare to be boarded!” Captain Moore shouted. “Repelling poles!” The crew scrambled to obey. “Stand ready the cannons!”

The crew of the Bloody Mary stood at her rails, weapons drawn and grappling irons at the ready.

A bearded man’s voice floated to them on the wind.

“’Twas fear that first made gods in the world, Mister Tupper.” His ruddy face flushed with excitement.

“Aye, Captain,” a broad black man replied.

“Let’s make ourselves gods to these poor souls!”

“Fire!” Moore commanded as the ships drew even.

Cannons boomed, shaking the ship beneath their feet. The crew jabbed with repelling poles to deter the crew of the Bloody Mary. Others rushed forward to meet those who boarded.

Vance joined the melee, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with Lynch.

A woman’s scream cut through the cacophonous brabble of combat. Vance turned toward the sound of her cry, leaving Lynch vulnerable. “Miranda!”
Attention focused on the pirate in front of him. Lynch was unprepared to block a second attack. He dodged, but not far enough. The blade slashed his face, nicking the edge of his eye. Lynch shrieked and dropped his weapon, grabbing for his wound.

Vance jerked back to the fight, too late. Lynch was down, half-blinded by his own blood. Vance stared in horror and something slammed into the back of his head.

Darkness.
 

♦

 
Sharp pain throbbed through his skull. Vance groaned. He struggled to open his eyes and groaned again. The battle was over. His side had lost. Moore and what remained of his crew were gathered around the main mast. Most were injured but remained upright. He and Farley lay at their feet. Gill climbed to his knees and inspected Farley. The helmsman had a serious wound in his belly. He wasn’t going to make it.

Using the mast to support himself, Gill stood and came face-to-face with Lynch who held a bundled shirt to his face. Blood soaked the cloth. Gill winced an apologetic look. Lynch answered with a hate-filled glare. Gill dropped his gaze in shame.

Bloody Mary’s crew surrounded them with a fence of sword tips, cudgels, and axes. The bearded man who’d shouted about being gods approached, pistol in hand. He grinned as if they’d gathered for a friendly picnic.

“Well, now! What was a good bit of fun! Those who don’t know me, I am Captain Black.”

The large dark-skinned man escorted Miss Danesbury and Miss Pennybuckle by their arms.

“Unhand me!” Pennybuckle demanded. “I am a lady.”

“Sirreverence!” Black gasped, throwing a hand to his mouth in mockery. “However did that escape our notice? Why, Mister Tupper, we must let this dear lady fly free! ’Tis not decent to cage such a fine old bird.”

“Aye, Captain.” The dark man scooped Miss Pennybuckle into his arms and carried her to the rail. The elder woman flailed in protest.

“Stop!” Miss Danesbury pleaded, pulling his arm. “Stop it!”

The men of Moore’s crew moved to help, only to be held back at weapon-point.

“Fly free, old bird.” Black waved farewell. Tupper tossed Miss Pennybuckle overboard.

SPLASH!

Miss Danesbury shoved past cheering the pirates and lunged for Black, pummeling his chest in a flurry. “She can’t swim!”

Amused, Black snagged her wrist and yanked her against his chest. Miss Danesbury gaped wide-eyed at him, mouth in a surprise “o”.

Black grinned. “She can’t fly either.”

Her chin quivered and hot tears leaked down her face. “Y-you bastard!”

“Such unsavory language.” Black clucked, taking a deep whiff of her hair. “But a fine diversion.”

He shoved Miss Danesbury toward Tupper, who caught her in his arms. Miss Danesbury curled into herself, trying to block out the last of Miss Pennybuckle’s gurgled cries for help.

“Well now.” Black turned to Moore’s crew. “We’re all businessmen. Whether we can ransom her back to her family or not, this fine young miss has value to me and mine.”

Black’s crew murmured in agreement. Vance lunged forward. Black kicked him in the face, knocking him back. Cradling the side of his face, Vance glared murderously.

“The question is,” Black continued smoothly, “do any of you bletherskates have anything to offer? If you can be ransomed to your families, you’ll earn yourself a few more days of living. Anyone?”

Moore’s crew shook their heads.

Black shrugged. “I’ve got a few men I’ll need to be replacing. I’ll show mercy to any one of you who’ll swear on to my crew. Except you.”

He pulled his pistol and shot Moore between the eyes. Miss Danesbury screamed as Moore fell dead atop poor Farley.
Black scrutinized his captives while they looked among themselves, frightened and hopeful. They wanted to live, but none wanted to be the first to betray their mates.

“I’ll swear.” Lynch shoved past Vance to Black.

“What’s your name?”

“James Lynch, sir.”

Black pulled the shirt from his face to inspect the gash. “Well, Mister Lynch. You won’t lose the eye.”

Black returned his attention to the captives. “Anyone else?”

Four other men timidly crossed to stand with Lynch.

Cook spat at their feet in contempt as they shuffled further into the shelter of their new crewmates.

“Do you swear to forsake all former vows, answering only to Captain Black as your captain?” Mister Tupper asked.

“Aye,” the five turncoats agreed.

Black looked each in the eye to judge their sincerity. Satisfied, he smiled. “Welcome to my crew. As mates of the Bloody Mary, you’re each entitled to an equal share of all plunder, including whatever’s aboard this wreck.”

The turncoats sighed in relief. Lynch’s gaze strayed to Miss Danesbury.

“As I said before, we’re businessmen. Piracy is not a way of life for us. It is an investment in our future. Fifty percent of all goods captured gets shared among the crew when we return to port. The other half gets sacked away in a secret lair which I have the only map and key to.”

The newcomers exchanged apprehensive looks while Lynch continued to stare hungrily at Miss Danesbury.

“At the end of each year, anyone who wants to retire gets his proper share and is free to go as he pleases. Anyone willing to stay on keeps adding to the pot for another year. How long you stay on is up to you. Mister Tupper here has been with me for five years. When he retires, he’ll have enough booty to make him a prince.”

The turncoats looked at Tupper, eyes shining with admiration, and he grinned in pride.

“Any one of you have a problem with that?”

The other turncoats shook their heads.

“What about you, Mister Lynch?”

He dragged his attention away from Miss Danesbury. “You’re a shrewd businessman, Captain. But . . . What about her?” He motioned to Miss Danesbury. “Do we get an equal share of Miss Danesbury?”

All eyes turned to Miss Danesbury. She crossed her arms over her chest, cringing from their attention.

“Fair question. Mister Tupper?”

Tupper leaned into her ear. “Yes.”

Miss Danesbury whimpered as Lynch grinned in triumph.

“And, no,” Tupper continued.

Lynch scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means we each get an equal share of the ransom money her family pays. If her virtue stays intact, they’ll pay handsomely, but for some reason, the upper-crust don’t like to pay for plucked birds.”

Miss Danesbury released a shaky sigh.

Frustrated, Lynch turned his wrathful gaze on Vance. “And them?”

“Kill them.”

Lynch snatched a sword from the nearest pirate.

“NO!” Miss Danesbury shouted. “Captain Black, please! A barter!”

Intrigued. Black held up a hand. Tupper grabbed Lynch’s arm.

“Spare Mister Vance and the crew,” she begged. “Lock them in the brig and sell them for slaves. They’re strong men. They’ll get you good money.”

“Slave-trading?” Black’s nose wrinkled. “Not my style.”

“Please!” she insisted. “I-I’ll make it worth your while.”

Black cocked an eyebrow and turned his full attention to her. “Just what do you think you have to barter with?”

Miss Danesbury glanced at Vance. He shook his head.

 “You can have me.” Miss Danesbury replied.

“No!” Vance objected.

Black’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “In case you haven’t noticed, Miss Danesbury; I already have you.”

“All of me,” she clarified. “I’ll make sure my family pays full ransom. Whatever you want, I’ll do willingly.”

Hungry hope lit Lynch’s face and she hastened to add, “Just you, Captain.”

Black looks at Vance’s tortured expression with a smile. “Very well. Throw them in the brig!”

“NO!” Vance struggled against the men who hauled him away. “Touch her and I’ll kill you, Black!”

Chapter 22: The Past

 
Face bandaged, Lynch was put straight to work, swabbing the deck with an older fellow named Loris. Chewing his lip, he glanced at the bridge where Black manned the helm. Something about what Black said, enough booty to live like a prince. That’s what they all said to make their crew fall in line. Right?

“Oi, Loris.”

Loris looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Keep working while you gab. The Captain don’t suffer slackers.”

Lynch ran his mop along the boards absently. “What’s this bunk about a secret lair?”

“T’aint bumf, mate. Captain’s taking us there now. Why else do you think he’d be manning the helm with a pretty piece to warm his bed?”

“No one knows where it is?”

Loris dunked his mop. “None but the Captain. I heard he has a map in his cabin somewhere. Never seen it, though. Don’t know anyone who has. The key neither.”

Lynch huffed. “Why all the parlor games?”

“So no one takes it in his head to steal the key and make off with the hoard.” Loris’s tone said it should have been obvious. “Captain Black’s been saving for ten years so’s he can retire with his own empire. If you got enough coin, they’ll make you Governor of one of these dunny piles.”

Lynch chewed his lip again. “What’s it like?”

Loris shrugged. “T’aint even a real island. Just a big rock with a tiny little hole in it. Looks like Poseidon’s arse sticking out of the brine. We load everything in the longboats and row into the cave.”

“Where does it go?”

Loris chuckled. “Nowhere, mate. It’s nothing but rock and more rock. That’s the trick. See, there’s a gate in the rock . . . Under the water. It’s bloody brilliant. Can’t hold your breath long enough to pick the lock. Can’t use explosives to blow the gate open. Captain Black dives down to unlock the gate.”

Lynch stopped and gaped at Loris.

“We sink the goods and dive down after it. Gotta be quick and have good lungs, though. The gate’s in a tunnel near ten feet. We got to drag all that loot through the tunnel to the other side.”

“What’s on the other side?”

“Keep working,” Loris reminded him.

Lynch resumed swabbing. “What’s on the other side?”

“Heaven, mate.” Loris grinned.” A cave in the middle of all that rock. So big you could entertain the king of Merry Old England and his hoity-toity suckholes in it.”

Imagination took over and a smile spread slowly across Lynch’s face.

Chapter 23: The Past

 
Vance paced their small cell, stumbling over someone’s foot.

“Give it a rest, boy,” Cullyn, an older sailor with red hair grumbled. “You’re not doing any good this way.”

Cook mumbled in agreement, pulling his feet out of the way. Again.

“I can’t just sit here, Cullyn.”

Cook perked up. “You could tell them your family will ransom you.”

“All my family’s wealth is on this ship.”

Cook deflated. “Oh.”

“If only we had some way out of here!” Gill ranted. “We could take the ship back. Black left only a skeleton crew on board.”

Cullyn nudged Cook, “Don’t you have a key to the brig?”

Vance spun on him, excited. Cook cringed and shook his head. “I’ve lost it again.”

Vance swore and slammed his hand against the wall.

“I’d lose me ’ead if it weren’t—” He grinned. “Wait!”

Cook pulled off his cap and Cullyn cocked his head. “You finally trained your fleas to pick locks?”

“No. Look!” Cook held his cap out to show the brig key nestled in its interior. “Miss Danesbury stitched it into me cap so I wouldn’t lose it anymore.”

Vance shook his head in wonder. “Clever girl!”

“Doubly clever for getting us put in the brig instead of turned into chum.” Cullyn grinned. “Let’s get out of here.”

“And, quickly,” Vance urged. “Our stinking hides aren’t worth Miss Danesbury virtue.”

Chapter 24: The Past

 
Lynch picked the lock to the captain’s cabin. Miss Danesbury rummaged through papers on the desk, muttering to herself.
Perfect. He slipped inside with one eye on her.

“There must be some kind of weapon in here!” she complained.

Keeping to the shadows against the wall, he crept further into the room.

“Ah-ha!”

Lynch froze.

“This’ll do nicely.” She held a decanter, testing its weight.

Lynch bumped his head against a sconce and came to his senses. He was here for a reason. He quickly searched the sconce and then whatever furniture he could reach without leaving the shadows.

“What the devil?”

Lynch froze again. Miss Danesbury peered intently at the decanter, then held the bottom to the candlelight.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Pandora with her hand on the box.”

Young Lynch’s bladder nearly released from fright at the sound of Captain Black’s voice.

“I-I was just having a drink.”

Black closed the door, cutting off his escape. “And, found the only map to my secret lair.”

The decanter? Lynch’s heart leapt with joy.

“I-it was a mistake.”

Lynch crept toward the door, determined to return for the bottle at a safer time.

“There is no salve for mistakes, Miss Danesbury.”

A dagger with silver inlay buried itself in the wall close enough to his nose to show him the whites of his own eyes.

“Come to feel my peaches before they’re ripe, Mister Lynch?”

Heart pounding and limbs petrified from terror, Lynch barely knew what he was saying. He must have said the right thing because Black mercifully let him leave.

Lynch raced from the cabin like the hounds of hell snapped at his heels and slammed the door behind himself.

Safe at last, he collapsed in the shadows, fighting off hysteria. He ignored the murmur of Black’s voice from his cabin, taking deep breaths to calm down. His composure slowly returned. A triumphant giggle slipped from him.

“Here’s to you, as good as you are, And here’s to me, as bad as I am; But as good as you are, and as bad as I am, I am as good as you are, as bad as I am.”

SMASH!

Lynch stiffened in horror. “No!” He pulled at his hair. “No, no, no!”

The alarm bell clanged aboard Lady Sparrow and Lynch sobbed. Now what?

“They’ve retaken the Lady Sparrow!”

“I’ll deal with you later,” Black promised, exiting his cabin.

Black stood outside his cabin while his crew assembled.

The alarm bell fell silent. An eerie hush settled over them. The crew looked to Black nervously.

“Well?” Black barked. “What are you waiting for? Go deal with them once and for all, you fools!”

The crew scrambled into action.

Black snatched Lynch by the collar and dragged him out of the shadow. “You, too, Mister Lynch.”

Black shoved him toward the railing. Lynch, he joined his new crew. With a glare at Black, he swung across to the Lady Sparrow.

The deck was empty.

Tupper motioned to the four new crewmen. “You four, check below deck. You . . .” he pointed to Lynch. “Check the captain’s cabin.”

“Aye.” Lynch headed for Moore’s suite.

Chapter 25: The Past

 
Black watched his crew cautiously spread out on the Lady Sparrow and frowned. “What skullduggery is this?”

“The kind which works against you, Black!”

Black spun around. Vance and the Lady Sparrow’s crew stood behind him with weapons drawn. He looked around. Most of his men were on the other ship. A red-haired man had taken control of Bloody Mary’s helm, steering away from the Lady Sparrow.

Black drew his cutlass and shouted, “To me!”

His remaining crew scrambled toward him.

Miss Danesbury poked her head out of his cabin. Black didn’t have time to worry about that troublesome pixie or the combat around him.

“It’s a trap!” someone shouted from the Lady Sparrow. “She’s going to blow!”

Vance lunged at him.

“Back to the ship!” The cry spread. “Back to the ship!”

Men swung across, but the Bloody Mary had pulled too far away and only a few made the gap.

From the corner of his eye, Black noticed Lynch clamber over the rail of the other ship and leap into the inky water.

Vance scored a hit. Black yelped in surprise, stumbling to the rail. The pain was minimal, the wound shallow. He’d survive, but he needed to keep his attention focused on—

Miss Danesbury flew at him, screeching like a Valkyrie, and plowed him with enough force to knock him backward over the rail.

The last thing he heard before hitting the frigid water was the ear-splitting explosion of the Lady Sparrow. Then the concussion of the blast slammed him into the sea.

Chapter 26: The Past

 
Burning debris rained down on Lynch. Waves buffeted him, slamming him down into its icy grip. Taking a deep breath, he dove below the turbulence until his lungs ached and his body rebelled.

He surfaced to calmer water and the smoldering flotsam of the Lady Sparrow. The Bloody Mary raced for the horizon, leaving him to live or die by his own wits.

Lynch swam to the largest bit of flotsam. It was already occupied. The other man didn’t stir as he clawed his way onto it. He rolled the man onto his back and an incredulous laugh erupted from him. Captain Black!

His luck had finally changed.

Lynch fumbled for Black’s dagger with stiff fingers. The captain’s glacial hand closed around his wrist and he screamed in fright.

Black grimaced in pain, eyes ablaze with fury. “So, the green-eyed monster has come for me at last.”

He wrapped his other hand around Lynch’s throat and squeezed.

Hissing for air, Lynch struggled to free himself. He flailed at Black with his free hand, but Black’s arms were longer. Lynch punched at Black’s arm, trying to break his crushing hold.

His thrashing jarred them from their perch and both men tumbled back into the water.

Lynch bunched his legs between them and planted his feet against Black’s chest. Heaving with his whole body, he slid from Black’s grip, earning himself deep gouges along the side of his neck.

Gasping for air, Lynch snatched the dagger from his captured hand and stabbed Black. The captain cried out and squeezed tighter, grinding his wrist bones.

Black sank beneath the waves, dragging Lynch with him. Lynch lashed out, stabbing Black over and over in wild panic until he noticed the captain’s eyes were staring unblinkingly toward the surface.

Lynch tugged to free himself of Black’s death grip. No use.

They sank steadily deeper. The edges of his vision dimmed. Lynch hacked at Black’s fingers and made one last desperate effort to pull free.

Black’s fingers gave. Lynch surfaced, gasping and wheezing. He stabbed the dagger deep into the wood he’d evicted Black from and hauled himself onto it. His eyes rolled and consciousness fled.

Chapter 27

 
Captain Lynch fingered the long scar which ran the length of his face. “You’re the one who earned me my first scar.”

Gill grimaced as the old guilt returned.

“But it’s thanks to you,” Lynch said to Miranda, “I figured out where Black kept his key. I never got to repay you proper.”

Miranda’s chin came up. “You can repay me by letting us go.”

“As settlement, I’ll let him keep breathing for a while longer.” Lynch turned to Gill. “Sorry, mate. Looks like you’ll just have to find yourself another wife.”

“I’m not done with this one yet,” Gill snarled.

Lynch threw his head back and shouted, “Man overboard!”

Hands grabbed Gill by the arms and legs. He struggled against them as the pirates swung and tossed him overboard.

SPLASH!

Captain Lynch smirked at Miranda. “You’ve no manner of luck with companions, m’lady.”

“At least this one can swim,” she growled through clenched teeth.

He shrugged. “For all the good it’ll do him. Mister Quinn?”

“Aye, Captain?”

Captain Lynch held Miranda’s gaze with a smile, savoring her silent rage. “Set sail.”

“But, Captain! The fog—”

“Is lifting!” Lynch’s eyes blazed. “If you can’t find your way out of this bay by now, I’ll find another First Mate.”

Quinn paled. “A-aye, Captain.”

Chapter 28

 
Gregory and Alice eyed each other suspiciously.

“Why follow us?” he asked.

“You were leading me to my father’s killer.”

“And, how exactly did you plan to avenge your father? Did you think a brutal murderer was going to let you slit his throat?”

Alice drew her cloak around her. “That’s my concern.”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “Did you give this any serious thought before you went on this rampage of madness?”

Alice quivered with barely suppressed outrage. “I’ve been thinking of naught else for most of my life. It haunted my dreams and consumed my every waking moment from the time I could comprehend the evil of having my father stolen from me. I made plans and discarded them so many times, I scarce recall them all. In the end, it came down to this; I let fate lead me. When the time is right, I will make my move and the man who murdered my father will die by my hand.”

The men exchange nervous looks.

“There is more to life than revenge, lass,” Shep said.

Alice’s eyes narrow. “I’ll have my revenge first. Then, I will reckon with the rest of my life.”

“There’s Gill!” Neville pointed with a relieved smile.

Gill approached through the thinning fog, soaked and rowing wearily.

Gregory’s hopeful smile faded as the men moved to meet Gill at the end of the dock.

“Where’s Mum?”

Gill pulled the oars in and lifted his arms. “A little help, if you please. My arms feel like hot iron.”

Shep hooked the edge of the boat with his gaff and pulled it against the dock while Gregory and Neville hoisted Gill onto the dock.

“Where’s Mum?” Gregory insisted.

Gill leaned heavily on Neville for support, shivering. “It’s a long story. I’ll need something warm in my belly and dry on my back first.”

“I know a place.”

Gill turned toward the new voice. A young woman stood behind them. Her cloak looked familiar. From Sanders?

“Who’s she?”

“Another long story,” Gregory replied.

“Abbreviate it for me.”

Alice crossed her arms. “My name is Alice. I followed you in hopes you’d lead me to the man who murdered my father, so I can kill him.”

Gill digested the information. “Right.”

“Listen,” Alice closed the gap between them. “The magistrate here won’t help. He’s paid well to look the other way. You want your wife? We’ll have to go after them.”

Gill shook his head. “How are we supposed to do that? They have a real ship, and no offense Shep, but Merry Belle will never catch them.”

Shep flinched, shoulders drooping. “I know she ain’t much, but—”

“She has no hope of matching the Endeavor for speed.”

Neville clicked his tongue and tucked his hand under his arms. “Other than the general direction of the Caribbean, we don’t even know where they’re going.”

“I do.”

The men look at Alice, surprised.

She rolled her eyes at them. “I’ve been hunting my father’s killer half my life. I’ve learned to listen when men don’t know they’re being heard. Besides,” she sniffed, “a pretty face and pitcher of ale will loosen any man’s tongue.”

Gregory ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “That still doesn’t put a ship under our feet!”

“Don’t get your whirligigs in a knot,” Gill grumbled. “I know someone who might help.”

“Might?” Gregory frowned.

Gill rubbed his eyes. “I don’t think he’ll be happy to see me. But food first. Please.”

Alice beckoned and headed back to town without waiting to see if they followed.

Chapter 29

 
Font scrutinized Gill from behind his rickety table. His nose wrinkled as if he smelled something rotten. Gill struggled to keep his face neutral. They needed this man’s help.

The cellar was cramped with Gill, his companions, the tubby old man, and his quartet of cutthroats. The groups eyed each other, dank air abuzz with tension.

“Well, well,” Font finally tutted. “If it isn’t Gilroy Vance. I thought ye were dead.”

“My name is Gill Webster now.”

Font laughed. “Webster? Ye named yerself after the cemetery where we buried yer da? Always were an odd boy. Never knew where ye got those crazy ideas, Vance.”

Gill’s teeth ground together. “Gilroy Vance is dead and buried.”

“It seems like he’s been dug up to give me indigestion,” Font grumbled, leaning back in his chair. “None of us can outrun our past.”

Gill tsked in annoyance. “I’m not here for philosophy lessons, Font.”

Font glanced at Alice, who looked around in boredom, then at Gregory, who was near bursting with the desire to interject.

“What are ye here for? Not for a piece of the business. That went to the bottom of the sea with the Lady Sparrow.”

“She wasn’t your only ship,” Gill replied evenly. “There was one other you used to outrun trouble.”

Font’s eyebrows crept toward his receding hairline. “And ye want to use her to catch up to trouble? I’ve been dodgin’ creditors and livin’ off dirt for two decades because of ye. With yer da dead and the Lady Sparrow decoratin’ Neptune’s bedroom, I had no way to pay back all those investors. Now, ye’ve come to rob me of the Specter, too? Ye can go to the devil, Gilroy Vance, or Webster, or whatever ye wants to be callin’ yerself.”

“They’ve taken my wife and burned our home.”

Font spread his hands. “And I might put a blade between yer ribs for spite.”

“He who is down needs fear no fall.”

“And he who is low knows no pride,” Font responded.

“Miranda is all we have left now.”

Font stiffened. “Miranda? Danesbury’s niece?”

“Yes.”

Font’s withered lips thinned and he shrank into his seat. “I ain’t interested. Hades grins at me from over your shoulder.”

He motioned to the cutthroats. They stepped forward.

Patience snapping, Gregory shouted, “We can pay!”

The cutthroats stopped and looked to Font for direction.

Gill scowled.

“There’s still the treasure, Da,” Gregory pleaded.

The room became preternaturally silent. Gill’s scowl deepened.

“There is no treasure,” he replied, words heavy with meaning.

“There’s no key,” Gregory countered, “but there is treasure.”

Gill looked at Font, then back at Gregory, torn.

“Please, Da.”

Gill relented with a defeated sigh. “All right, boy. You win.”

He rubbed his eyes wearily and returned his attention to Font. “When Miranda was held captive by Black, she saw the map to his hidden lair.”

Font leaned forward with an excited grin. “So, there is a secret lair! I thought ’twas just a yarn.”

“It’s real enough. If you can get to it.”

“After ye disappeared, some of the surviving crew returned. Found out about yer run-in with Black and his devil’s bargain. Got a tally of who stayed true and who didn’t. Those who turned yet lived, I sent a special thank-ye.”

The old man ran a finger across his throat and Gill paled.

“Well, you missed one,” Gregory grumbled. “Lynch is the one who has Mum. Help us get her back and we’ll split the treasure with you. You can send a token of your appreciation to those who remained loyal, pay off the creditors, and live the rest of your days in luxury.”

“Gregory!”

“Lynch, is it? Why didn’t ye say so earlier? Seventy-thirty.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Gregory countered.

“Sixty-forty. I’m yer Mum’s only hope.”

“Fifty-fifty. Mum’s the only one who knows where the treasure is.”

Font tugged his lower lip, debating. “Fifty-fifty, but I’m comin’ with ye. By Neptune’s beard; we’ll be makin’ sure yer da doesn’t sink another one of me ships and disappear again.”

“Gregory!” Gill grabbed his son’s arm. Gregory shook free, eyes still fixed on Font.

“Done!”

“Done!” Font slammed a hand on the tabletop, sounding like a gunshot. Gill shivered and prayed it wasn’t a warning of events to come.

Chapter 30

 
The Specter was a thing of beauty. Designed for speed and stealth, her shallow draw made her perfect for smuggling ventures. Now, she was their only hope of catching Lynch.

Gill put a hand on Gregory’s shoulder and led him away from the bustle of loading the ship. “I want you to stay with your sister.”

“Bollocks to that!” Gregory snorted.

Gill stood taller. “Mind me in this, son.”

Gregory shook his head. “I made a deal with Font—”

“And, I’ll make sure it’s honored as best we can.”

Gregory’s chin jutted. So much like his mother. “It’s not your place. The man who strikes the deal must make it real.”

“You’re still a boy. You have your whole life—”

“I’m a man,” Gregory insisted, arms crossed. “If I don’t have my honor, what is my life worth? Besides, you need every pair of fighting hands you can find to get Mum back.”

“He’s right.”

Gill and Gregory startled as Font materialized next to them. For a fat man, he moved like a ghost.

“I’m an old man, Gill. And so are ye. No one sane would be willing to go after a bunch of pirates for the sake of yer missus. My crew is loyal to me, but they’ll not risk their necks for some bedtime story about hidden treasure. Bring the boy. You’ll have need of him.”

Gill hesitated, looking to Shep and Neville, who watched Font’s crew work. The dim light of the hidden cove accented their age and the mist highlighted the gray in their hair. Out of options. Gill sagged in defeat and nodded.

Gregory grinned in victory. Font raised an eyebrow. “Report to Captain Hammerfield. He’ll find good use for your eager hands.”

Gregory’s smile faltered and he looked to Gill.

“Go on,” Gill shooed. “Enjoy the fruits of your desires.”

Gregory set his jaw and stalked toward the Specter.

“Now, about this lassie yer thinkin’ about bringin’.”

“Not just thinking about,” Alice declared, approaching.

Font frowned. “The men don’t hold with having women aboard. We’re not a passenger ship.”

Alice placed a fist on her hip. “I don’t care what the men hold or how long they hang on it to. Either I’m coming or you’ll never find Lynch and his crew.”

Font glared at Gill, who shook his head. “Make it possible. Please. She refuses to tell us where to find Lynch until we’re in the Caribbean.”

“That way you can’t sail off without me.”

Font growled. “I can’t protect ye if the men want a taste of ye.”

In a blur of flashing metal, Alice pulled a dagger, cut off the top button of his shirt, and sheathed it again. Font jerked away belatedly, groping at his missing button.

“I can protect myself. And I can pull my own weight.”

“The devil you will!” Font fumed. “Find a dress and put it on. I’d rather the men lookin’ at that and knowin’ they can’t touch than have them workin’ side-by-side with ye, hot and sweaty like, starin’ at yer legs and forgettin’ their place.

“But—”

“No! I won’t be budged for all the gold in the Spanish treasury.” Font’s voice swelled. “I’ll not have people sayin’ I let a woman trim me sails.”

He stared at Alice, unwavering until she nodded.

Chapter 31

 
Alice smoothed her skirt. It was too long, too heavy, and too ridiculous, but she knew better than to trifle with Font.

She spied Gregory and headed toward him, passing Captain Hammerfield.

“Miss,” the captain greeted.

“Captain.”

The crewman splicing rope snarled at her and adjusted the bandage on his hand.

Alice ignored him.

“Mister Skive,” Hammerfield barked. “What happened to your hand?”

Skive glared at Alice.

Hammerfield followed his gaze. “Well, I hope you learned to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Alice smirked as she continued on her way.

Gregory noticed her and straightened. “Good day, Miss Alice.”

Alice laughed.

“What’s funny?”

“I’ve never been called Miss Alice before. It’s strange.”

“Well, you never did tell me your last name.”

“No. I like it. You say it in such a respectful manner. It . . . It makes me feel like I could be a decent person.”

“You are.”

“Not yet.”Alice gazed out at the ocean. “Did you mean what you said before? About your father being a coward?”

Gregory blanched. “You heard that? No. I was frightened and impatient.”

Alice looked at him from the corner of her eye. “And now?”

Gregory lowered his face. “Now, I’m embarrassed to have uttered such a horrible thing about my Da.”

Alice returned her gaze to the waves. “I never knew my own.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What’s he like, your father?”

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “He’s an honest, hardworking man. He loves my Mum and never once looked at another woman. He always made sure we had enough to eat and had clothes on our backs before he ever spent a copper on himself. I used to think he was too strict. I see now he was that way out of love. He only wanted us to grow up to be honest and hardworking folk, too.”

Gregory chuckled.

Alice looked at him over her shoulder. “What?”

He shrugged. “I used to think all those stories about being captured by Captain Black were make-believe to make us think he’d done something exciting in his life. It’s hard to believe something so terrible actually happened to him – to both of them. They’re honorable people, my mum and da, and they were nearly done in before they could experience life. I didn’t know how much I loved them until now.”

Gregory stared out at the ocean to avoid her gaze.

Alice studied his profile. “Bermuda.”

“What?”

Alice shrugged self-consciously. “Captain Lynch. He’ll stop at Bermuda for supplies. There’s no fort and limited military presence to contend with.”

Gregory smiled, grateful. She smiled back shyly.
 

♦

 
“It’s like looking back in time,” Gill sighed, watching Gregory and Alice bonding.

Font glowered. “By the powers, I hope not. Yer not sinkin’ another one of my ships for a lass with a pretty twitch to her skirt. She knows too much, Gilroy. Mark my words; that gel is trouble.”

Gill sobered.

Chapter 32

 
Night fell before they crept into the bay where Endeavor weighed anchor.

Captain Hammerfield peered through the telescope, ignoring Font’s close proximity. “No movement. The boats are gone. It looks like they’ve gone to shore. There will be a minimal crew onboard.”

“We can deal with them,” Gregory muttered.

Hammerfield closed the telescope and turned to the waiting men. “We’ll put anchor here and wait until dawn. If you’re not back by then, we’ll make for Antigua to restock and return to England. We want no encounters with the trouble you pursue.”

“Fair enough,” Gill acknowledged. “Thank you, Captain.”

Gregory scowled but held his tongue.

Shep and Neville waited by the rope ladder.

“We’ll be back quick as a whip,” Gill assured them.

Shep’s fingers tightened on his pole. “You don’t mean to leave us behind?”

Gill put a hand on his shoulder. “Shep.”

Shep scowled and lowered his head. “Bloody peg leg.”

“It’s not that. The fewer of us gallivanting around, the less likelihood of drawing attention.” Gill placed his other hand on Neville’s shoulder and looked from one to the other.

Reluctantly, the men agreed.

“You’re good friends.” Gill squeezed their shoulders and climbed onto the rope ladder. Gregory gave them a grim smile and followed his father down to the rowboat where Alice waited, once again in men’s clothing.

“What are you doing here?” Gregory demanded as Gill settled in the boat.

Alice looked at Gregory like he’d gone mad. “I’m coming to avenge my father.”

Gregory frowned. “It’s too dangerous!”

Alice laughed. “I’m not some fair maiden to protect. Now shut up and get in or I swear on my father’s soul, I’ll shove off without you!”

Muttering under his breath, Gregory dropped into the boat.

They closed the distance between ships in silence. The men quietly boarded Endeavor ahead of Alice to clear the way.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the old dog and his mangy pup.”

They gawked as Lynch as his crew drifted from the shadows. Ripper with the jagged teeth and Jelly with the spoon dragged Miranda on deck.

“How did you know?” Gregory demanded.

“I told you,” Alice replied from behind him. “I’m hunting the man who killed my father.”

She sauntered to Lynch’s side and favored Gill with a look of contempt. “And that man is you.”

“My da never killed anyone!”

Gill squinted at Alice, Font’s words ringing in his mind. “You planned this all along. Who are you?”

A sly smile hooked the corner of her mouth. “Alice Black. I was six months old when you killed my father. He was making one last trip to get his treasure from the lair, and then he was going to retire.

“Instead of a life of comfort and a decent education, I ended up slinging ale in a filthy tavern while my mother earned our keep on her back. The only reason I was spared that fate is because my mother saved enough money to buy me passage out of that hole. She gave me every coin she had and told me to find the man who murdered my father. Take back the treasure and life he stole from us.

“That’s what I intend to do. You stole my father from me and my mother died because of the life you forced us to live. I had no one until James found me.”

Gregory flinched, face wrinkled in disgust.

Lynch snaked an arm around Alice’s waist. She smiled at him fondly. “He told me how you murdered my father. How he found my father and held him as he lay dying. And how my father entrusted the key to him. Now, I can have my revenge and reclaim what’s rightfully mine.”

Gregory snarled at Lynch. “You lying sack of—”

Quinn backhanded Gregory, sending him staggering backward. He glared at the man but spoke to Alice. “It’s not true, Alice. You’ve traveled with us. You know my da.”

Doubt flickered across her face and disappeared behind a cold mask.

“Do you really think Lynch is going to share the treasure with you?” Gill asked. “He’s the one that killed your father.”

Alice took a threatening step toward Gill. “Liar!”

“It’s true, child,” Miranda confirmed sadly. “Lynch told us how he endeavored to steal the key. When your father tried to stop him, Lynch stabbed him over and over again to get it.”

“It’s not true! James would never!” She looked to Lynch for reassurance.

Contempt twisted his scars. “All I had to do was spin a yarn or two and you couldn’t wait to do what I wanted. A kind word, a sympathetic remark, and you were on your back faster than the turn of the tide. You stupid slag. You truly are your mother’s daughter.”

Alice shook her head, stepping away. Lynch jerked her back by the elbow and kissed her crudely while his crew laughed and whistled lewdly.

Lynch shoved Alice toward Gregory, who caught her.

“You bastard,” she sobbed.

“Well, it takes one to know one, dearie.” Lynch turned on Miranda. “Now, you’re going to tell me where Black’s Lair is.”

“I already told you, I don’t remember.”

“And, I already told you, I don’t believe you. You’d better start remembering quickly or I’m going to put holes in the people you love. Not big ones, mind. Just a lot of painful little ones until they’ve got nothing left in them to bleed out.”

Miranda hesitated.

In a cold and quiet voice, Lynch spoke one word. “Quinn.”

The tattooed pirate’s dagger was out with a snick and a flash, pressed against Gregory’s throat.

“Stop!” Miranda threw her hands out. “All right! I’ll tell you.”

She speared Lynch with a violent glare. “Gill, take your shirt off.”

“What?”

Miranda snarled in frustration. “For once in your life, do what I ask without arguing!”

Gill flinched and pulled his shirt off with a wounded expression.

Everyone watched Miranda in fascination. She laid the shirt on the deck with the cuffs together and pointed to the embroidered ivy. “Here’s your map.”

Lynch scoffed. “Slit his throat.”

“Look!” Miranda insisted.

Lynch knelt for a closer look.

“The ivy here. See the dark green thread? It’s the map. These leaves in the lighter green, that’s the coordinates.” She ran her finger along the carefully stitched vines and leaves. “The number of leaves on the right cuff is the longitude. The leaves on the left, latitude. I knew I’d never remember, so I sewed it on Gill’s shirts the first year we were married.”

Lynch shook his head, impressed. “You always were clever.” He turned to Quinn. “Strip them down. Make sure they don’t have anything sewn into their unmentionables and put them in the brig. Except for her.”

He pointed to Alice. “Her, you can have her for a bit of sport first.”

“No!” Gregory wrapped his arms around Alice and hauled her over the railing. They disappeared into the darkness.

SPLASH!

Lynch huffed wearily. “Young love.”

Quinn shifted uneasily. “Do we go after them, Captain?”

The captain raised an eyebrow. “How badly do you want her?”

The crew looked amongst themselves with a collection of frowns and head shakes.

“That’s what I thought.” Lynch scoffed. “Get on with it.”

Chapter 33

 
Shep and Neville hauled Gregory and Alice onboard, grunting and straining.

“What happened?” Shep asked.

Alice wrapped her arms around herself, shivering and staring at the water pooling at her feet.

Gregory pushed wet hair out of his face as Font and Hammerfield arrived.

“We weren’t sure what to do when they sailed past.” Hammerfield motioned to the empty bay.

“It was a trap,” Gregory replied flatly. “Lynch knew we were coming.”

Neville tucked his hands under his arms. “How is that possible?”

Font squinted at Alice. She blushed and ducked her head to avoid his gaze.

“It doesn’t matter,” Gregory answered. “I can’t save them alone. I need men who are willing to fight.”

Font shook his head. “I already told ye—”

“That was before I knew I had a map to the Black’s Lair.”

The men gawked at Gregory.

“Now, if you want your share of the treasure, you’ll fight for it like honest men or I’ll go ashore and find a crew who will.”

Font and Hammerfield looked at each other.

“Very well,” Font agreed. “We’re in this with you, but ye better not be foolin’ with us, lad.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“I’ll have some men go ashore for provisions,” Hammerfield said. “We can set sail in a couple of hours.”

The men headed off to make ready.

Alice touched Gregory’s arm tentatively. “I . . .”

He gave her a cold, hard stare.

“Thank you for—”

“Save it. I didn’t do it because I have any fond feelings. I did it because it was the right thing to do. My father taught me that.”

She flinched from the harsh words and watched him walk away, miserable.

Chapter 34

 
Gill held Miranda and stroked her hair. “My sweet, sweet lady. I am sorry.”

Miranda peered at him, confused. “Whatever for?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you all the nice things in life you wanted.”

Miranda smiled and stroked his cheek. “Silly goose. I never wanted those things for me. I wanted them for you. I knew the life I was choosing when I married you and I haven’t regretted a single day. I still love you more than life itself.”

“Then I have everything I could ever want.” Gill kissed her tenderly and smirked. “I have a present for you.”

“Oh?”

Gill fumbled with the seam of his underwear and pulled out the sewing needle.

“It’s your lucky needle. From the last time we were being held prisoner by pirates.”

Miranda laughed and took it from him. “You always knew how to pick the perfect gift.”

She threaded it into the seam on the sleeve of her slip and snuggled against him.

Chapter 35

 
Gregory spread his shirt on the captain’s table and laid the cuffs together. Font and Hammerfield stared at the embroidered pattern in amazement.

“Well, I’ll be,” Font whispered.

Hammerfield counted the leaves and pulled out his map to make calculations.

“Nothing there.” He pointed to an empty spot on the map.

“It’ll be there,” Gregory assured, gathering his shirt.

“One more thing, lad.” Font cleared his throat with a look to the captain. Gregory stiffened in apprehension.

“The gel. She’s one of them, ain’t she?”

Gregory grimaced. “Not anymore.”

“But, she ain’t one of us, either.”

Gregory sighed. “No, I don’t suppose she is.”

“There ain’t a man aboard willing to follow ye if that turn-tail is running loose.”

Gregory shrugged. “Stick her in the brig.”

Chapter 36

 
The sun disappeared as the rowboats slid into the cave on the northern face of the rock island. Bundled on the bottom of the lead boat, Miranda and Gill blinked to adjust their eyes as the pirates lit lanterns to allow the boats to penetrate deeper.

They rowed until they came to a dead end.

“What’s going on?” Jelly craned his neck to look around. “Where’s the treasure?”

“Patience, Mister Jelly,” Lynch advised. He quickly removed his coat, hat, and pistol. Black’s dagger glinted from his belt. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He dove into the water and disappeared.

Gill kissed Miranda’s forehead and they leaned back to wait.

The minutes stretched out. The crew shifted, uneasy.

“He’s coming back, yeah?” someone asked.

“Of course, he’s coming back,” Quinn assured them.

“Unless he drowned,” Jelly muttered.

Quinn cuffed him.

“Ow!” Jelly rubbed his head.

“You think the Captain spent twenty years getting here just to drown now?”

“Well—”

Lynch surfaced with a gasp. Everyone looked at him expectantly.

“Come in, boys,” he grinned. “It’s a fine day for a swim.”
 

♦

 
Darkness pressed in on them. Someone struck a match and lit a torch. The darkness retreated a few feet. More torches flared to life and Black’s Lair glowed with warm amber light. Gold, silver, and jewels glimmered and glinted in the torchlight in every direction.

Dripping and chilled, Lynch and his crew gawked around in awe. Even Gill and Miranda stared in wonder. Black hadn’t exaggerated. The lair contained enough treasure for each one of them to live in comfort until the end of their days.

Someone tittered an unsteady laugh and they slowly came to their senses.

“The ship’ll be bulging at the seams with all this loot!” Jelly laughed.

“We’ll all be kings!” The crew cheered and hugged each other while Lynch beamed like a proud father.

“Start loading the boats, men.”

Chapter 37

 
Skive leaned against the wall outside Alice’s reach. She gripped the cell bars, white-knuckled.

“Let me out of here! I have to avenge my father!”

“Captain’s orders,” Skive leered. “Nobody wants your pretty little blade between their shoulders.”

Alice lunged, her bellow of frustration drowning out his laughter.

Skive dangled the keys from his finger. “They’ve all gone on their fool’s errand. It’s just you and me now, Pet, and you owe me a little recompense for my hand.”

He unlocked the cell and Alice scurried to the back wall.

“Bet you wish you had your little blade now, don’t you?”

Skive cornered her and leaned in for a kiss. Alice punched him in the groin. He wheezed and doubled over. She brought her knee up to crack him in the face and Skive fell to the floor.

“Idiot.”

Alice snatched the keys from his hand and spat on him.

Chapter 38

 
Miranda leaned wearily against Gill under the watchful gaze of Jelly and Ripper.

The beautiful golden light had dimmed to regular torchlight without the cavern’s riches. Lynch sat like a king on his throne, watching the last load disappear into the water.

“The last of it is on its way, Captain,” Quinn reported. “We can go whenever you’re ready.”

“Very good, Mister Quinn.” Lynch stood with a leisurely stretch and strolled over to Gill and Miranda.

The couple craned their necks to look at him in resignation.

“You’re going to kill us now?” Gill asked.

“After all the trouble you’ve given me? You’ve been the proverbial thorn in my side. Killing you quickly wouldn’t be satisfying at all. No, mate,” Lynch assured him. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to leave you here to contemplate the choices you’ve made for the rest of your life. Which ought to be three days unless you can find fresh water in this hole.”

Gill straightened his spine. “At least we’ll die with honor.”

Lynch laughed. “If you call wallowing in your filth while wasting away to nothing, ‘honor’, then, yes. Ole Gilroy Vance will die with honor.”

He turned a gleaming eye to Miranda. “As for you, m’lady. You’re not as pretty to look at as my plump Alice, but twenty years dreaming of this day will make it just as sweet.”

Gill’s arms tightened around Miranda. She buried her face in Gill’s chest with a sob.

Lynch thumped Jelly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, faithful Jelly. I’m not forgetting your poor eye.”

Jelly giggled and stroked the wooden spoon.

Chapter 39

 
Distracted by the struggling woman, Quinn and Jelly carried Miranda by the arms while Ripper kept her legs locked together while they trailed behind the captain.

Lynch pushed the door to his cabin open and came face-to-point with a cutlass. He took a step back and Gregory followed him onto the deck. “Surprise.”

“Hardly,” Lynch snorted. “I’m evil, not stupid. I’ve been expecting some pathetic rescue attempt from you, but this is plain stupid. You’re surrounded, boy.”

Gregory smirked. “I may be young, but I’m not stupid.”

He motioned with his sword. The crew around them drew their weapons. The familiar faces of his crew had been replaced. Friends of the boy, no doubt.

The men dropped Miranda to reach for their weapons and she wobbled toward her son.

Lynch pulled the dagger from his belt, stepped behind Miranda, and pressed the blade to her throat. “Drop your weapons or bathe in your mother’s blood.”

“I don’t think so.” Miranda pulled a sewing needle from her sleeve and stabbed Lynch’s hand. He screamed and jerked away enough for her to duck out from his grasp.

Lynch drew his sword and lunged at Gregory, both blades aimed to kill.

Quinn, Ripper, and Jelly retreated to the rope ladder. Outnumbered and surrounded, Quinn and Ripper were killed quickly. With no one to hide behind, Jelly dropped his weapon and raised his hands. Miranda snatched her wooden spoon back from him and turned to find Gregory outmatched by Lynch.

The captain drove his sword toward Gregory’s chest.

“No!” Alice appeared with a sword of her own, knocking Lynch’s cutlass wide. “This dance is mine!”

She squared off against Lynch.

He grinned, tucking Black’s dagger back into his belt. “Name your tune, dearie.”

“Alas, my love, you do me wrong,” she hissed.

“Greensleeves it is, then.”

Alice swung with a snarl, putting all her weight into the blow. Lynch sidestepped and disarmed her in one swift move. Grabbing her by the throat, he lifted her onto her toes. “I must admit, you’re much better in bed than you are with a sword.”

Lynch shoved his sword through her belly with a grin. “Your father had the same look on his face when I killed him.”

“Y-you,” Alice shuddered. “You mean this one?

She yanked the dagger from his belt and drove it into his heart. Lynch looked down at the dagger, mouth agape. His knees released and he crumpled to her feet.

Alice struggled to remain upright. Gregory rushed to her side and carefully lowered her to the deck. She grabbed his shirt, panting against the pain. “F-forgive me?”

“Everything is going to be fine,” he promised.

Alice smiled weakly. “Liar.”

Her smile twisted into a grimace and her eyes fluttered closed.

Gregory lowered his head and gently pried Alice’s fingers from his shirt. “Search Lynch for the key.”

“Wait,” Miranda said. “It must have something to do with Black’s dagger. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Gregory pulled the dagger from Lynch’s chest and wiped the blade clean.

They examined the dagger. “You sure, Mum?”

Neville pointed to the silver inlay. “Look here.”

Gregory frowned. “Yes, it’s very nice craftsmanship, Neville, but I don’t see—”

“It’s not just decoration. Look.”

Neville fiddled with the dagger. A section of the silver inlay popped into his hand. The key!

Gregory laughed and patted Neville on the back. “Leave it to you to find something that shouldn’t be possible.”

Neville grinned and stood taller.

Chapter 40

 
Hands free, Gill hurried to untie his feet. The torch flickered. He only had a few more minutes before it guttered and plunged him into darkness. The rope gave and Gill raced to the water, diving in.

He followed the underwater tunnel to the gate and tried to force it open. It didn’t budge. The torchlight wavered. No time!

He reached through the bars to feel the lock in desperate hope Lynch had left the key. Empty. He tried to retract his arm. It didn’t move. He was stuck.

Pressure squeezed his lungs. He was nearly out of time. Gill pulled on his arm frantically while precious air leaked from him.

With a last sputter, the torch died and Gill was left in – not darkness?

Light glowed from the opposite side of the gate. Gregory’s beautiful face moved toward him with something glimmering in his hand. Gill fought the desperate need to breathe in. Gregory shoved his arm free. Consciousness eked away and his eyes rolled.

Gregory unlocked the gate and it opened. Grabbing Gill by the wrist, he swam back to the surface.

Hands pulled Gill into a rowboat. He coughed and gulped huge lungfuls of air while Miranda rained kisses on him. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“You nearly did.” He wrapped his arms around her weakly.

Neville leaned over him with a grin. “Good to have you back, Gill.”

Gill and Miranda lay on the bottom of the boat, holding each other, while Gregory rowed.

“I’ll have none of your ‘honor prevents us’ nonsense,” he scolded as they passed out of the cave. “You’ll take your share of the treasure. I’m not listening to another twenty years of your bickering.”

They looked at each other and laughed.

“We’ve raised a smart boy,” Miranda said.

“No, sweet lady,” Gill corrected gently. “We’ve raised a smart man.”

“Uh.” Neville looked past them, alarmed.

“What’s wrong?” Miranda helped Gill sit up. “Sweet Mother of Mercy!”

“What?” Gregory stopped rowing and turned to look.

The Endeavor sped away from them.

“They abandoned us!”

“Ahoy, the rowboat!”

The Specter appeared from behind the island with Font and Shep at the railing. The hook of Shep’s gaff pole hovered suspiciously close to Font’s throat. The old man gingerly pushed it aside.

“Ye didn’t think I’d be leavin’ ye behind?” Font shouted with a strained smile. “I’m a smuggler, Gilroy Vance. Not a thief.”

They exchanged nervous glances and laughed. “Never crossed our minds.”

♦ END ♦

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