Page 34 of The Sea Witch
If she made a poor choice with Benjamin Priestley, everyone aboard this ship would pay the price.
She took her midday meal. Stayed above decks all afternoon. After eating, she kept herself busy for several hours by cleaning muskets and pistols, carefully avoiding her cabin and the man that currently dwelled there. Even so, his unrest and determination mingled with doubt still hummed through her. He was an ember smoldering in the hold that only she could feel the heat from.
Anything to keep from going to her quarters, and facing him.
No one could fault her hospitality. Food and good ale were brought to him on a regular basis, entertainment in the form of books were provided, she even had a pitcher of fresh water and a cake of soap brought to him so he could clean his face.
None of that had soothed him. If anything, she was aware of his growing edginess, a knife being sharpened for too long until it cut the bladesmith.
There was curiosity, too. Aboutwhat, though, she couldn’t tell.
He hid something from her, too. But she’d once anchored theSea Witchfor eight days in a cay, waiting out a Portuguese ship that had hoped she would lose interest in the gold and silverstowed in its hold. She didn’t lose interest. She knew something of patience.
“How fares our guest?” Standing in the prow, she spoke to Inés, who had brought him the water and soap.
The other woman rolled her ink-dark eyes. “Ricocheting off the bulkheads like he was fired from a musket. I wager he’s not the sort used to doing nothing.”
Six bells rang out. Ashore, it would be three in the afternoon. He’d been alone in her cabin for the duration of the morning, and a few hours after the midday meal.
“He’ll have to accustom himself to the practice,” Alys said. “He should be grateful he’s not confined to the brig.”
“Gratefulisn’t the word I would use to describe him,” Inés answered. Her long tawny fingers picked at a thread that had come loose from her embroidered tunic, which was tucked into breeches that buttoned up the side. “I have seen more placid racehorses at the starting gate. I would bet on him, too. Snorting and stamping like a prized stud.”
“That stud’s not for breeding.”
Inés chuckled. “As though Susannah would look kindly on me sharing my charms with anyone but her. Besides, our navy man will soon turn his spyglass to another star.” She gave Alys a meaningful look.
“This ship’s run with too liberal a hand,” Alys answered gruffly, even as her cheeks heated. “Get to your duties.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” Inés saluted before climbing down the companionway.
After an hour spent practicing levitation spells with several members of the crew, Alys whittled and watched Cora challenge Polly to see who could make the heaviest object on deck move the farthest. It was a draw after they both managed to float a cannonball from the ship’s bell on the foremast to the capstan. All the bets that were placed sadly had no outcome, and the crew adjourned, grumbling good-naturedly.
Soon after, Luna reported that she had consulted with the sailing master several times to double-check their heading as they sailed toward the island of the Weeping Princess. Stasia sent Eris ahead to scout any possible traps, and everyone on watch had kept careful attention, in case the navy man led them into an ambush. Nothing was found.
Alys didn’t ask after him. They needed distance between each other.
It was late afternoon when Dorothea came to her, moving her square body with purposeful haste.
“Cap’n, we’re not alone,” she announced. “I been in the crow’s nest and just before my watch was done, I caught sight of a ship trailing us. About a league south by southeast.”
Alys looked meaningfully at Stasia, standing nearby. Together, they went to the railing and looked in the direction Dorothea had indicated. As Stasia sent her magpie familiar skyward, Alys pulled out her spyglass, and summoned the sight of a hunting hawk into the device. When the spyglass glowed with tawny light, she aimed it south by southeast. The enchanted lens immediately found the ship, a sleek schooner flying a black flag adorned with a skeleton in a tricorn, the ship’s crew moving quickly around the vessel as it pursued theSea Witch. A mage had positioned himself in the foredeck, his hands outspread as he summoned winds to push the ship forward, his black sash flapping in the breeze.
The captain of the tailing ship stood on the quarterdeck, clad in a skirted green coat with wide cuffs, the jade plume of his hat dancing in the wind. Alys’s spyglass was so powerful she could make out the emerald adorning the captain’s ear.
“Jacob Van der Meer,” Alys muttered.
“Craftiest pirate this side of Santo Domingo,” Stasia added grimly.
“He was at the Wig and Merkin, when Little George’s letters were read. I kept well away from him.”
“Old lovers can be such irritations.”
“And he knows about the fail-safe. But not where to find it. Reckon he believes we know. Which,” Alys went on, “we do. But we’re keeping that to ourselves.”
“Orders, Captain?” Stasia asked.
“Get Luna up here,” Alys said to Dorothea. “We need her guidance. Go with haste,” she added, though the crewwoman was already hurrying to fetch their navigator.
