Page 53 of The Sea Witch
“Luffing sails,” several members of the crew answered, hurrying to follow his command.
As they did this, the sails slackened, slowing the ship’s speed. Canvas shook in the wind.
Alys noted Ben’s hands on the wheel were secure and certain, turning theSea Witchinto the wind to ensure a careful and steady approach into the island’s treacherous anchorage. Land had been spotted early that morning, and, with Alys’s leave, Ben had taken his place on the quarterdeck to serve as helmsman, navigating the brigantine through the dangerous shoals.
She’d witnessed many people steering a ship. Hell, she’d grown so used to the sight of Samuel at the tiller of his fishing boat, it was as familiar as her own fingernails. There was nothing remarkable in observing anybody piloting a ship.
Alys had even braced herself for being annoyed to see the Royal Navy man at the helm of her ship. It washers, after all, and she’d hand-selected the crew that made theSea Witchrun as smoothly, as efficiently as it did.
Except watching Benjamin Priestley take sure and confident control of the ship’s helm stirred a hunger in her.
It wasn’t possible for him to turn the wheel with his hands manacled, so the irons around his wrists had been removed. Evenso, Stasia stood nearby with her pistol trained on him, ready to fire should he do anything that could be considered suspicious, such as deliberately scuttle the ship. He hadn’t objected to the fact that the quartermaster was poised to shoot him, and he calmly went about his business as if his life wasn’t constantly in peril.
Now he feathered the ship, quickly turning the helm from one side to the other as he continued to reduce theSea Witch’s speed. The ship immediately slowed—she could feel it was losing too much velocity to successfully negotiate the narrow passage into the island’s anchorage.
“Sheet in on the main,” he shouted.
The crew quickly obeyed, tightening the mainsail to gain a little more speed while the ship cut between two coral reefs that formed a natural protective barrier to the island’s inlet.
Once they’d breached the bay, he guided the ship through the reefs before he called, “Back the mainsail.”
When the crew followed his directive, theSea Witchslowed to an almost complete stop.
“Drop anchor,” Ben called.
Finally, they were in the bay at the far end of the island of the Weeping Princess. Where they would—hopefully—find Little George’s fail-safe.
And then she would be free of Benjamin Priestley.
A stone formed in her gut. Clearly, missing breakfast in her eagerness to catch sight of the island had been a mistake. She was a woman of appetites—fasting never sat well with her. After they concluded their business ashore, she’d return to the ship and sup heartily.
“Admirably done, Sailing Master,” she said as the jolly boat was made ready to bring them to the shore.
Lines briefly fanned in the corners of his eyes, then he gave her a clipped nod. Even so, there was pleasure in him. Like her, he enjoyed executing his tasks well. Deep within, he was glad he’d performed well in front of her.
Stasia moved to put the manacles back around his wrists, and he stepped back.
“I’ll need my hands free when we’re traversing the island,” he said by way of explanation.
“That’s supposing you come with us,” Alys answered.
“No one else has been here. You’ll have need of me once you’re ashore.”
She exhaled as she shared a look with Stasia. Unfortunately, he was correct, and so Alys silently told her quartermaster to keep the manacles off him.
“Leg irons, too,” he had the nerve to insist.
Stasia glanced at her again, and Alys nodded. Her second-in-command muttered Greek curses as she unlocked his shackles. For his benefit, she added, “My pistol is going to be pointed at your back, navy man. If you scratch your arse suspiciously, there will be consequences.”
“I don’t do anything that crass in front of a lady.”
Alys laughed, and Stasia and several other women joined her.
“This ship is crewed by women,” Alys said, “but not a single lady amongst us.”
She, Ben, and Stasia were joined in the jolly boat by Susannah, while Cora and Thérèse took the oars. Eris perched on Stasia’s shoulder, already twittering with excitement at the prospect of exploration ahead.
Each of them was supplied with a skin full of water, and Susannah carried a pack with some bread and salted meat. Hopefully, they’d be back before dark, but it was best to be provisioned in case anything went awry.
