If she closed her eyes, she could almost picture him aloft in the rigging of a ship, adjusting the sails and making repairs. The work of a sailor was physically demanding, yet Teach would never shrink from his responsibilities. He wouldn’t have hesitated to sew the dead man up in the hammock. Not because he was unfeeling, but because Teach knew there was enough filth and disease on a ship without a decaying body adding to the misery.
A part of Anne couldn’t help being grateful that she would soon reach land and have to stay there for some time. The trip across the Atlantic had been more challenging and difficult than anything she’d imagined. They’d endured unending hours of monotony, only to be surprised by storms so violent and fierce that Anne had been convinced the ship would send her to a watery grave.
Cara gave Anne a comforting squeeze. “You could never be a burden. If you hadn’t allowed me to share your cabin, I would still be forced to sleep with the passengers below and Coyle would never get any rest.”
“I still don’t get any rest. But at least I don’t worry as much,” Coyle said, striking the small biscuit in his hand on the railing. Several weevils fell out and he brushed the tiny black insects overboard, before dipping the hardtack into a mug of diluted brandy. “Care for some?” he asked, offering it to Anne.
She shook her head. They’d all learned the hard way that the simple wafers were unbreakable and had to first be immersed in liquid in order to make them edible. Hardtack might be inexpensive to make and long-lasting for a voyage, but flavorful it was not.
Coyle shrugged and took a bite. Cara wrinkled her nose at him. “Aren’t you going to offer me anything?” Cara asked.
“No. George ate your portion.”
“Which George?” Cara had taken it upon herself to try to name every rat on the Providence. An impossible task considering how many there were, but it was a simple game that helped fight the monotony of the voyage.
“How should I know?”
“Was he missing a hind foot? If so, it was George III. If part of his tail was gone, then that’s George I.”
“I’m too bloody tired for this, Cara,” Coyle muttered, rubbing his weary eyes.
Anne shook her head at him. “You don’t need to sleep outside our cabin, Coyle. You’ve heard Captain Oxley. He’s said no harm will come to us.” After weeks observing the coarse crew, Anne had come to realize that the sailors mostly kept to themselves, leaving the passengers alone. Cara’s outgoing nature bordered on flirtatious, but the men were too busy trying to keep the ship afloat to pay much attention to her. Especially with Coyle remaining nearby.
“I want to be close by in case anything does happen,” Coyle said, looking off the port side.
Anne followed his gaze, a thread of unease winding its way through her chest. In the distance, two ships cruised the open waters, their dark outlines visible against the stark blue of the sky. For weeks, the Providence had sailed along, separated from familiar landmarks without a glimpse of another vessel on the horizon.
But two days ago as they neared their destination, the call had gone out that a ship had been spotted. And shortly after, a second ship had appeared. Like two shadows, they followed the Providence, but made no move to get any closer.
Anne drew a deep breath. “Have they shown their flags?”
“No. We’re too far for them to raise an ensign,” Coyle said.
“What do you think they want?” Cara asked, her eyes narrowed. “We don’t have anything worth taking.” The Providence was a pitiable merchant vessel. With rotting timbers and old rigging, the ship transported more people than cargo. Whatever goods she did carry, it couldn’t have amounted to more than a few hundred schillings at best.
“I don’t know,” Coyle said, downing the rest of his brandy. “But it’s not normal.”
“It seems to me that they’re waiting for something,” Anne said.
“Like what?” Cara asked, her voice sharp.
Coyle wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Don’t know, but I think Anne’s right. See how they keep their distance?”
Cara looked between her brother and Anne. “But we’re only a few days away from Nassau. It’s to be expected that we see other ships.”
“Yes, but they should move on, shouldn’t they? If they’re merchants, they would be heading to their next port,” Anne said. “Do you think the tales are true?”
A few of the crew members had claimed that life was difficult for many settlers in Nassau. The Spanish had burned and destroyed the town in 1684. English settlers had arrived two years later and more continued to arrive each year, but stability was difficult to maintain, even with a governor in residence. In order to survive, many in the population had turned to piracy to earn their living. Nassau was rumored to be a lawless nest of adventurers and thieves.
“Surely they wouldn’t attack a ship flying under the English flag,” Cara said.
Anne remained silent, the Providence rising and falling gently beneath her feet. Was it possible that the life she’d left behind in Bristol was better than the one she now faced, living amongst thieves in Nassau?
The first part of their journey was nearly complete. In a few days’ time, they would make port. But what kind of future awaited her?
“Sail ho!”
Looking up, Anne raised a hand to shield her eyes, squinting against the brightness of the sun. In the distance, the unmistakable outline of another vessel dotted the horizon.
A murmur spread across the deck like a wave approaching shore as other passengers and crew crowded along the railing. If they hadn’t been so spooked by the two ships already following them, Anne doubted the appearance of a third would have caused such a stir.
But cause a stir it did.
The downy hair on Anne’s nape prickled. Glancing back up at the cloudless blue sky, she saw that there was no sign of an approaching storm, but she sensed danger on the horizon nonetheless.
CHAPTER 2
Teach
The coppery scent of blood tainted the briny air. A thin trail of red trickled across the slick deck of the Deliverance. The cat-’o-nine-tails whistled once more, striking the young boy’s back with parallel stripes and lacerating the skin. He let out an anguished cry as tears ran down his grimy cheeks.
“Captain Murrell, surely that’s enough,” Teach ground out, his shoulders tensing at the agony on the boy’s face.
The thin man at Teach’s side shot him a stern look, his cold gray eyes unforgiving. “If I don’t maintain discipline on this ship, then someone else might try to steal from you.”
“I realize that, sir. But perhaps the punishment does not fit the crime. After all, Matthew didn’t get away with it.”
“Because I saw him when he exited your cabin. Would you have reported the theft if I hadn’t caught him in the act?”
If Teach had caught young Matthew stealing the small chest of coins, he would have dealt with it in a different manner. Scarcely twelve years old, Matthew did not belong at sea.