Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 817(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
“Prepare the larboard batteries.” I ascended the final ladder and rose from the dark belly of Jade, shouting into the sunlight, “Jobah! Gather your charts and meet me at the helm!”
“Your hat, Captain.” D’Arcy hopped into my path, holding out the black one I preferred that was cocked on three sides.
“Thanks, lad.” I jammed it onto my head as excitement washed over my heart.
Too bad Priest wouldn’t be up here to enjoy this. But he’d made his choice, and that choice wasn’t me.
Shoving away thoughts of my failed marriage and missing compass, I stared up at the mighty double-spoked wheel, which stretched almost as tall as the formidable African man standing behind it.
Jobah’s dark eyes blazed down at me, igniting a fire in my soul.
I hurried up the ladder to his side to prepare our attack and rid the sea of men more evil than me.
I balanced my boots on the jib-boom, a spyglass to my eye, and a hand clenched around the tack for support. The smoke of cannon fire lingered, the raw scent of it clinging to the back of my throat. With it came the bitter taste of disappointment.
The cargo ship had surrendered upon the first shot we lobbed across her bow. Had they been anything other than slave traders, I might have let them live.
Evidence of their evil lay in the hull, which had been divided into holds with little headroom and endless chains swaying from beams and snaking across the decks. All meant to restrain hundreds of captives. And all of it empty.
The slave ship had already delivered her cargo to St. Christopher island.
I lowered the glass and found Jobah standing beside Reynolds near the helm. Together, they watched the sea swallow what was left of the burning ship off the larboard beam.
We’d killed every man on board, save two.
Two badly beaten, malnourished slaves.
They were now on my ship, under Ipswich’s care. It wasn’t the first time my surgeon had nursed outsiders back to life. He grumbled and griped, claiming he didn’t have to obey a woman’s orders. But the cantankerous old fool secretly enjoyed it. He wouldn’t have stayed with me all these years otherwise.
When the last spar of the slave ship sank beneath the tide with a bubbling burp, I pulled in a deep breath and shouted, “Weigh anchor! All hands prepare to make sail!”
I jumped down to the forecastle and crossed to the rail that overlooked the expanse of Jade’s stunning upper deck. With her topsails clewed up from battle and her stalwart stem poised to smash through wind and water, I tilted my head back and let the splendor roll through me.
Sunshine heated my face. The breeze whipped my hair, testing the grip of my hat. Sea spray misted my clothes, and I soaked it all in.
My father had once stood in this very spot, commanding a different crew and earning their loyalty, battle after battle. How fortunate was I to follow in his footsteps.
I would never forget that. Never take it for granted.
Seamen clamored fore and aft, bare feet pounding across the deck. The windlass groaned, and the kelp-slimed anchor cable snapped taut, swinging out of the sea.
“Get those jibs up.” I descended to the main deck. “When we clear the wreckage, raise the mainsail.”
Shouts rang out in acknowledgment, followed by the cheerful song of working men. Their chanting tune narrated each maritime task, setting the rhythm as they hauled lines and swung yards.
“Destination?” Reynolds stopped me at the companionway, his gold earrings glinting in the sunlight.
I lifted my face, estimating the angle of the wind. “Put her on a beam reach. Due east.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
No, he wanted to know the long-term course. While we cruised the West Indies, plundering Spanish treasure ships and terrorizing the British navy, where were we ultimately headed? What did we want at the end of this? That was always the question, wasn’t it?
The answer resided in my father’s encrypted compass. I needed to find it, solve the puzzle, and follow the map.
“Locate the compass,” I said. “I’ll deal with Priest. Then we’ll go from there.”
But first, I needed to see how our new passengers were faring in the hands of surly old Ipswich.
Reynolds strode away, relaying my orders to the crew. A moment later, canvas rose, and the deck slanted as Jade heeled to leeward, luffing into the teeth of the wind.
I descended to the lower level and made my way to the infirmary.
Ipswich had his back to the door when I slipped in, his hunched sexagenarian frame bent over an occupied bed. I moved to the other bunk and rested my hand on the limp arm of a man who glared at me with glassy brown eyes. He jerked away from my touch and winced in pain.
Bones protruded beneath layers of old bruises and fresh cuts. Blood matted black hair, his face too young to grow a beard. Too young to be in a foreign place without family. My chest squeezed.