Page 49 of Captive of the Pirate King
Amid the contradictory shouts, Locke walks untouched, still clutching Gorm’s throat. He marches Gorm up to the forecastle deck, but Tir blocks the way.
“You’ll not set her free until the Captain gives the word,” Tir says, folding his massive arms.
“Is that so?” Locke tightens his grip on Gorm and slams the hilt of his knife onto the pirate’s skull. Gorm’s knees loosen and he slides to the deck, unconscious.
“Out of my way, Tir,” Locke snarls.
Tir cracks his neck and knuckles. “Come on, pretty boy.”
At that moment, Captain Neelan’s voice rings across the main deck, all the way to the forecastle. “What in the gods’ names is going on out here?”
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Captain Neelan is wearing a quilted dressing gown in his favorite color, peacock blue. He advances across the main deck, while the pirates shout explanations and point at me.
In the midst of the chaos, while Tir is momentarily distracted, Locke darts in and strikes the bigger man on the back of the head with his knife hilt.
But Tir’s skull is thick and tough as an old barnacle, and he doesn’t go down like Gorm did. He turns his head slowly, then makes a grab for Locke with one meaty hand.
Locke pivots and ducks, landing a sharp blow to the back of Tir’s elbow. He must have hit a nerve, because Tir yells in pain.
“Stop!” shouts the Captain. “Stop it, both of you. Stand back, Tir! Locke, that’s an order!”
Tir retreats, clutching his arm. Locke seethes, his eyes blazing. He backs up, placing himself between me and the Captain, shielding my body with his.
“So our little Nick is a woman,” Captain Neelan says. “Fooled us all, didn’t she, men? Well, not all. Our friend Locke knew. And so did the sailors of theWending Willow. This girl broke one of the Pirate King’s laws. She made us all complicit, and guilty. How should we punish her?”
“Nothing has to change,” Locke says, low and terse. “She can keep serving as cabin boy. She’s good at it, you know she is. She’s a useful member of the crew.”
“That she is,” says Captain Neelan. “But she’s also a traitor, for she pledged her service to the Crowned Skull under false pretenses. Perhaps we should toss her into the drink, eh lads? Do what we should have done that first day?”
The pirates rumble in agreement.
All I can do is stand against the mast, bound so tightly my bones ache, mute from the gag in my mouth. I stare back at the faces of the pirates to whom I’ve served so many meals—faces that leer or glower at me. Past Locke’s figure, I can only see a sliver of Captain Neelan’s face—one dark eye, fixed on me.
I won’t let the tears come. Even if I weren’t gagged, I wouldn’t cry and plead for my life. If they toss me into the dark water, if I plunge into gurgling, black, bottomless depths—if I resurface, salt-choked, only to see theArdent’s massive shape sailing away—if I breathe the sea and drown, so be it. I tried. Gods, I tried so hard to make it through this, to survive.
“Into the sea she goes, then,” says Captain Neelan. “Unless—”
The entire crew hangs on his words. Silence tightens across the ship, and the only sound is the rush and slosh of the water, and the creak of timbers, and the faint whistle of the wind.
“Unless, since the Pirate King’s law has already been broken, we consider another possibility. A punishment for her and a reward for us, you might say.”
“Like what, Captain?” calls a pirate.
“Well, she is a woman, isn’t she?” Captain Neelan purrs. “What are women good for?”
My stomach twists.
“What say we all take a turn, andthentoss her in, along with those that collaborated in her treachery?” The Captain tilts his head, peering at me around Locke. “What do you say, men? We’ve been wronged, we have, and why shouldn’t we be repaid?”
Just as before, when Neelan sent the merchants who surrendered to their deaths, the crew is divided. Some surge forward eagerly, a grotesque lust shining in their eyes—animals, acting on baser instincts. But others frown, and mutter, and withdraw a step or two.
“It’s against the Pirate King’s law!” shouts a voice from the back of the crowd. It’s Cook, gripping a pallid Dez around the shoulders. Dez looks as if he’s going to fall over, like Cook’s grasp is the only thing holding him up. “You’ll not touch her,” Cook adds, and he brandishes the butcher knife in his other fist.
My heart swells tight with gratitude.
“Trust me, lads,” adds Hanschel, the crewman who whipped Locke. “Ye don’t want to be doing anything against the Pirate King’s law. He has ways of knowin’ what goes on aboard his ships.” He clamps his mouth shut after speaking, as if he’s afraid he’ll let something slip out.
