Page 39 of Of Magic and Rum
This woman is bound to be the death of me, and I can die the happiest, luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.
“Ready for your first sea battle that doesn’t involve melodious wenches trying to skewer us with jagged rocks?” I open the door and hold my hand to the exit.
Truffles stares at me indignantly before he plops his butt on the center of the map resting on my desk, his tail swishing, waiting for me to call him.
I sigh because I rarely allow my cat on deck, and he scarcely has an issue with it except for now, which is the worst possible moment for a feline to scurry the floorboards. “Sorry, Truff. Maybe next time.”
And as I close the door, he lets me know what he thinks of my answer by hacking up a furball that he’ll undoubtedly plant dead center on my desk—little bastard.
Anne rushes on deck but steals a glance at me—a sensual quirk of her brow, which I can only hope means something akin to “we’ll continue what was about to happen in your cabin later.”
I flash her a wink and a knowing smile before rolling my shirt sleeves to my elbows. “What do we have, gents?”
“Squid spotted a merchant due east. The first one we’ve seen since leaving Nassau,” Red announces, eagerly rubbing his palms together.
Thank Christ. The last thing we need is the Navy pricking our asses after dealing with the Sirens. What wedoneed is a win in a big, big way.
“Right then. You all know the drill. Hoist the colors, ready the sails, and for fuck’s sake, ensure your flintlocks are loaded and cocked,” I command, making my voice thunder across the deck.
Anne scurries to Mary’s side, shoving the pistol handle at her. Anne cinches her brow and shakes her head, pushing the flintlock away. Mary glares at her before shoving the weapon into her hand and pointing at Anne’s belt.
Better to have it and not need it, is what I’d be saying to her.
I storm for the helm, Ragnar tossing my hat as I pass him. He’s already barking orders to the men in charge of the rigging.
When I reach the wheel, Duke is peering into a looking glass, and he holds it out to me with an affirming nod. “Should be some nice haul on that one. Judging from the route, they seem to be crossing from the British colonies to Africa. They’re probably carting rum and gunpowder, if not other goods.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear.” Grinning, I lift the glass to my eye, squinting at the blurred image of the ship in the distance. They only have four cannons.
This was one of the advantages of stealing from merchant ships. Though they were armed to protect from pirates, it was never something we couldn’t handle. And that’sifseveral men became brave enough to take a stand. This is rarely the case. With any luck, it’ll be a quick job with new plunder below deck in time for supper.
With the black and white Jolly Roger skull and crossed swords flapping defiantly in the breeze atop the mast, I patiently wait as we edge closer to the vessel. The cargo ship doesn’t try to outrun us, nor does it attack, but it simply sails to a crawl so subtle it’s as if they’ve stopped altogether.
Once we’re resting side by side in calm waters close enough for the men on the other ship to hear me, I cup my hands around my mouth. “Which one of you do they call Captain?”
“I’m Captain,” one man says, holding a hand skyward as he steps forward from the crowd.
Like a proper jackass, I grin and wave. “Good afternoon. I’m Captain Rackham. By now, I’m sure you’ve noticed we’re not, in fact, a fellow merchant vessel.”
The other captain rolls his eyes before folding his arms in a huff. “We took note of your flag, yes. But you lot are shit out of luck. Another pirate crew already looted us.”
Big fat liar.
“Huh. Funny.” I tap a finger on my lips. “Because you’d think, if that were the case, you’d be headed east back to the Americas. And here you are heading straight on the trade route to Africa.”
A man beside the captain elbows him in the side as if to silently say he’d told him it’d never work.
The captain sighs and drags a frustrated hand over his silver beard. “Fine. Alright. Can you blame me for trying?”
“Not one bit.” Hopping from the helm, I move to the railing, looking at him dead in the eye. “Icanbe a fair captain. That choice is yours. Let us peacefully board and allow us to relieve you of most of your cargo. Or resist, and things will get ugly quickly. But know this—” I hang onto one of the rope riggings and hover over the ship’s edge. “—wewillboard either way.”
Grumbling, the captain tears off his hat. “Just get what you want and get the hell out of our way, pirates.”
Music to my sinful ears.
“Smart lad.” Flashing the fellow captain a wink, I turn to my crew. “Boys, would you be so kind as to drop anchor and lay out the planks?”
The crew is a flurry of activity, and Anne sidles beside me with her hands on her hips. “And you say I’m the one full of surprises.”
