The Pirate Captain - By Kerry Lynne Page 0,7

three, mebbe four days.”

The announcement was a bit redundant, since that had been the subject of conversation every meal since sinking England. Still, the prospect of the seemingly endless journey coming to an end left her feeling a bit odd.

And then what?

“We’ll be putting on cargo—molasses and sugar and such—bound for Virginia Colony.” He drew thoughtfully on the cold pipe. The green eyes darted from the fish briefly to her, and back. “I was thinking…perhaps if your brother has no place for you, I have a sister there—in the Colonies—with a household. I was thinking perhaps if you wished…”

The suggestive lilt in his voice said everything else. A cold pit grew in her stomach, Cate’s knuckles whitening as she gripped the rail. “How long have you known?”

He smiled around the pipestem. “If there’s one thing you learn at sea, it’s to judge a person. You’re running from a husband?” He pointed his gaze at her wedding ring, the silver gleaming as brightly as the dolphins.

“No, not exactly.” She clutched her ring if for no other reason than to protect the memories it held. His concern seemed sincere, but she worried of how far he intended to probe.

A cry came from the foretop, followed by Mr. Ivy appearing at Chambers’ elbow.

“Beg pardon. Sail, sir.”

“Where away?” asked Chambers.

“Larboard quarter astern.”

The news was received with no more than the lift of a sandy brow. More revealing was the flexing of his jaw muscles and lips tightening to white around the pipestem.

“Tell your man there’s an extra half-ration if he’s correct. The eyes can play tricks on a man out here; no sense in rewarding false alarms.”

Heart pounding, her attention had swiveled instantly to the horizon behind them. It was one of those days when the running seas took them to the top of the world one moment, only to be surrounded by water the next. The ship maddeningly seemed doomed to the latter just then, a wall of deep blue blocking her view.

Chambers paused before turning away to look up once more at the soaring petrels. “Seems they brought a storm after all.”

###

Reports came throughout the day. The moment finally came when the Constancy and the distant ship crowned a wave simultaneously and Cate saw the ship for the first time. A speck barely the size of her thumbnail, the sails stood strikingly white against the backdrop of deep-colored ocean and gunmetal clouds. The next instant it was gone, leaving her to wonder if she had actually seen it, or after having strained for so long, her eyes and imagination had obliged.

Cate closed her eyes. The image remained. It was no figment.

Once seen, the ship was twice alluring, and Cate stood through the intervals of watch bells, waiting and watching. As wind and water allowed, she spotted it, always at the same angle, always incrementally closer.

In the last rays of daylight, Chambers sent a man aloft with the spyglass, pacing the decks until the report finally came, in breathless, eye-rolling gasps.

“’Tis the Sarah Morgan, sir!”

“By what means?”

“Black ship with blood dripping the sails, sir.”

“Blackthorne’s ship,” was Ivy’s whispered aside to Cate. “Her decks run red with the blood of her victims. She’s carried on the back of Calypso.”

“Nay, ’tis Neptune hisself, a-risin’ on a prodigious sea-horse a-pullin’ her. I spoke with a tar what seen it with his own two eyes,” came a voice from behind her.

Chambers swore an uncharacteristic obscenity as he looked aft. An awed murmur emitted from those nearby and word echoing down the deck. He glanced west, toward the impending sunset, and then told Ivy, “Douse the lamps. They’ve spotted us, but no sense in advertising our whereabouts. They’ll lay off for a bit to size us up,” he explained to her questioning look. “See who we are, how we’re armed, or if we’re worth taking. ’Course, it could be just another ship, crossing paths. It happens,” he added, without conviction.

It seemed a blessed unlikely proposition: since sighted, the ship had veered straight for them, like a hound on a scent.

“We can only pray for a dirty night in which to hide. Otherwise, we’re as plain as a...a...as black on white,” he finally managed.

Contrary to Chambers’ hopes, the night was regrettably clean, with friendly winds and forgiving seas, the water no more than a rustle at the hull. Once the sails were reefed and trimmed for the night, the decks fell quiet, leaving everyone with nothing but their own thoughts. Sails aglow in the moonlight, the pirate ship was