Page 69 of Crossbones
With one more lingering look, he leaves.
“No fucking privacy,” I growl as soon as he’s gone.
Caspian laughs quietly. “Nope, not on a ship—”
He’s hardly finished speaking when Harrison darkens the doorway. Caspian hides a smile behind a hand rubbing his jaw.
“Captain, there’s a storm front headed our way.”
I share one last look with Caspian who still has humor dancing in his eyes, combined with the heady energy still rippling between us—the echoes of unfinished business. He shrugs and I slide off the table, moving to follow Harrison.
Yeah, there’s no goddamn privacy on this ship.
But I’m starting to wish there was.
CASPIAN
The mist of Draco Ignam is barely behind us before the storm hits us hard, and with a vengeance. It’s a bad one—Blackwell and I immediately split up, racing around the deck shouting orders. I’m quickly soaked through. I grab onto a rope and wipe water from my eyes in order to look up at the men scrambling to bring in the mainsail. The wind is brutally battering them, making the heavy canvas nearly impossible to drag up to tie down. There are men working in tandem higher up, securing the top sail. Visibility drops as the sky darkens and the crests of the waves become mountains. The ship rides up, steeply climbing before she plunges back down so hard my stomach rushes into my throat.
The wind is howling, cutting off shouts, and the deck pitches and falls out from under my feet as I attempt to walk the length of the deck. Waves crash over and send men to their knees, dragging them towards the rails. I immediately order most of them below deck and the rest to lash themselves to something stable.
There’s a loud crack, audible even over the roaring of the wind. I glance up to see a spar high on the foremast split. The boom attached to it whips free and swings across the deck in a deadly arc. I’m stumbling forward but I’m not fast enough to save the man it hits, dead the moment it strikes him, throwing him off into the abyss.
“Get back!” Blackwell shouts. “Clear the deck!”
I nearly collide with him as the ship lists, sending the boom flying towards us. We dive for safety as it swings wildly over our heads.
“If that thing hits the mast, we’ll lose the whole fucking thing!” I yell.
We share an unspoken look across the space separating us as I get back to my feet. I grab a coil of rope. Blackwell grabs an axe. Together we scale the rigging. The ship is pitching violently, giving the boom a chaotic path of destruction as it swings back and forth. The ropes are a tangled mess as I reach the brace.
Blackwell plants himself above me and starts hacking at the ropes. I loop mine and watch the upswing of the boom, timing it and preparing to lasso it on the backswing. I throw. It catches. The force is enough to send me pitching forward but I hold firm, even as my shoulder feels like it’s dislocating. I glance up at Blackwell, every swing is dangerous—the mast is swaying, the wood is slick. My heart lurches. One misstep and he’s dead—
I’m not paying attention, and only at his shout do I turn and duck just in time to avoid the boom as it smashes into the mast above my head. I slip, the rope burning through my hands as I start to fall. It’s only a few feet, but I catch myself and hastily loop the rope around, tying off the boom securely and halting its deadly rampage.
The spar cracks further and falls free, narrowly missing Blackwell as the ropes he cut twist off through the air like flying snakes. I slide down the rigging and land hard on deck, only to immediately lose my balance and fall into Blackwell as he lands beside me. My back hits the mast and he grabs me with one arm and a nearby rope with another. We only have a moment to share a look before I happen to glance over his shoulder.
“Oh fuck—” It’s a whirlpool.
A giant fucking whirlpool.
He sees it and immediately takes off towards Harrison at the helm.
“Hard to port!” He yells. “Hard to port!”
I’m right behind him as we slip and scramble our way up the quarterdeck steps to the helm. Together we help Harrison drag the ship hard to port while the force of the tide is doing everything in its power to drag the rudder out of our hands.
“That loose sail is killing us!” Harrison shouts.
I yank a nearby crew member to a stop by the shirt and throw him at the helm. “Hard to port!” I scream in his face. “Do not let up, you hear me?”
Blackwell pulls another to help Harrison and together we run. We stumble and slide our way to the front of the ship. We each take a side and with only our daggers, saw at the ropes holding the flapping sail to the bow.
My side goes first and I tackle Blackwell to the ground as the pulley flies at him. A wave takes us across the deck and for a moment I don’t know which wayis up. The ship lists hard to starboard and doesn’t stop. My stomach drops out from under me as Blackwell and I slide towards the rail, still tangled together.
I watch the edge coming for us, the whirlpool looming beyond. I scramble for anything to hold onto as the deck slides under me. The railing comes up fast and just as I’m about to hit it, my hand snags on a rope. I wrap it around my wrist and launch myself at Blackwell just as he hits the railing and goes over.
For one terrifying moment, I’m hanging over the edge of the ship and staring into the mouth of the whirlpool. My hand latches onto Blackwell’s forearm and together we hang there, my already wrenched shoulder screaming at me—our eyes clash—and I pray the rope holds.
