Page 57 of Of Magic and Rum
Glog hunches forward with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “Where do we start looking? If this thing that took her is mythical, he might be able to cloak.”
“Why are we bothering going after some wench we barely know? Weshouldbe concerned about finding the rest of that gold,” a crew member, whose name escapes me, bursts out brazenly.
The man’s back is against the nearest tree, my blade at his throat before anyone can blink. I snarl in his face and shove my forearm against his collarbone. “You call Anne a wench again, and I’ll have your fucking head.”
The man’s eyes blink once, and he holds his palms up. “Captain, all I’m sayin’ is we should be voting on this. Because it’s a matter that affectsallof us.”
“Yeah? You want to vote?” I slam my elbow into the man’s gut as I turn to the rest of the crew. “Is that how you all feel? You want to vote on whether or not we abandon one of our own?”
Mary, Red, and Glog stand firm, but the remaining crew glance at each other. Even Ragnar doesn’t look entirely convinced.
After grinding my teeth, I pace between them. “Before you answer, however, let me remind you this—you all took the same oath as Bonny. And one such part is never to desert your captain or crew.” I stare them down one by one. “Make of that what you will.”
Going silent, I let them mull it over and weigh the pros and cons of what is about to transpire. Most crew members lower their gazes, rubbing their heads and necks uncomfortably. Mary has her arms folded, scowling at anyone who so much as looks unfazed by my words. Red sighs, Glog kicks the man beside him in the leg, and Ragnar—doesn’t move his eyes from me. His decision in this weighs heaviest because he’s my right hand. He still has as much of an individual say as any other crew member.
“And now I ask you again, are we to put the matter of searching for the gold over Anne Bonny to a vote?”
More uneasy glances and unspoken words are exchanged, but ultimately, the island falls pin-dropping silent.
“Alright then. We split into four groups. Each takes a different direction and searches every inch of this island.” Pointing a stern finger, I pass it through the air before them. “And if I catch any of you looking for the treasure before we find Anne, you willnotbe re-boardingmyship.”
“Let’s move, people,” Ragnar barks, snapping his fingers.
The crew jumps and hurriedly creates four groups.
“Ragnar, Mary, you’re with me.” Despite Ragnar’s apparent indifference toward Anne, I need my best fighters. Something in my gut tells me that finding her will be easier than prying her from the water man’s fingers.
The man who entertained the idea of ditching Anne for the gold in the first place tries to sneak past. I grab his shirt and pull him toward me, his collar choking him on his way. He gurgles and claws at his neck.
“And you,” I seethe. “I’m tempted to leave you here regardless of your actions for betraying your oath.”
“Didn’t mean no disrespect by it, Captain. I know you’re sweet on her and all, but?—”
My nostril twitches, and I tighten my grip on the shirt, choking him now. “Don’t pretend you know anything about my personal life or that it’s any of your business, worm.”
“Captain,” Mary beckons, raising both brows at me as a cue that I’m taking things too far.
Reluctantly, I let the man go but shove him. “Get your ass moving. But I swear to the heavens, if I get even a whiff that you’re doing anything but what I commanded, I’ll stake you to this spit of land by your feet and leave you for the birds. Understood?”
The man is shaking now but nods before fleeing off with one of the groups.
“Captain, any idea where we should start this goose chase?” Mary asks, hanging her thumb from the cutlass on her hip.
No damn idea and it’s infuriating.
“South is the only direction no one has gone. But I’ll go wherever the wind takes me.” I grab a piece of twine from the satchel on my belt and tie my hair back.
Anne trusts me to find her—she sacrificed herself for us. And like hell I’ll let her down.
“I don’t understand how she got taken in the first place,” Ragnar grumbles.
We form a triangle and trek forward, my head constantly swiveling for any signs of movement in the sand, trees, or branches. I even keep my nose tilted to the surrounding air to pick up her scent—salt mixed with something floral and sweet.
Mary nudges Ragnar’s side. “Does it bloody well matter?”
“The man is something—folkloric. Made an impenetrable wall of fucking water between us and—” the next bit gets my blood fuming, and I gulp it down to the pit of my stomach “—he threatened to kill me if Anne didn’t go with him.”
Ragnar mumbles incoherently in Danish. Mary stalks closer to him, hops, and flicks him in the ear. He seethes at her. “What the hell was that for, Read?”
