He was right, she supposed. “What about Blane?”
Henry watched the fire a moment and took a drink of rum. “He’s evil. He’s the kind of pirate that other pirates despise. How’s that for a hated man?”
“What’s he done?” Jill asked.
“What hasn’t he? Burned, destroyed, raped, looted. He’ll give a ship quarter, then slaughter everyone aboard. I don’t know what exactly he did to our Captain Cooper, but I do know they started a voyage on the same boat, and when it ended he had the boat and she was a castaway.”
However Jill felt about Captain Cooper, even that shred of story made her angry at Blane on Cooper’s behalf.
“If he’s so bad, how does he even get a crew to sign on with him?” Jill asked.
“Because some men like the kind of power he has. It’s like they hope it’ll brush off on them. But they’ll end up worse than the folk we rescued off that slave ship.”
“And Captain Cooper wants to take revenge on him.”
“I expect so.”
“What’ll she do when she finds him?”
“Oh, that’s an easy one. She’ll try to kill him. We’re all headed for a battle with him and his ship. We followed him to the Newark, where we found you—and nothing but wreckage. Then he got away from us.”
The singing started again, and the drinking progressed in earnest until Jill could smell the rum on the air. Captain Cooper, out for revenge, was apart, perched on a barrel, looking to the sea, as if she could find Blane just by staring at the horizon.
And what did any of it have to do with Jill?
Maybe you’ll get back…. And what if she didn’t? She couldn’t think like that—she’d get home somehow. Because she wanted to get home—to get back to her life. She missed her old life, she realized, all of it. But that meant she had to stop sitting around, just another member of the crew, waiting. If they were heading for a fight with Blane, she had to be ready.
Jill said, “I can fight, you know. I am a fighter.”
“What?”
“When we boarded the other ship, you said I’m not a fighter. But I am, even though no one fights for real anymore where I come from. At least not with swords. But I can.”
“You’re not. You’ve never drawn blood.”
“Have you?” she countered. “You didn’t exactly do any fighting on the slave ship. Is it really a battle if no one actually hits anyone?”
“You can’t deny us the victory.”
She couldn’t, but it still seemed like something other than a battle. Then again, they were pirates, not the navy.
“Let’s practice,” she said. She had blisters on her hands and her arms still ached from all the work. Despite all that, she itched to show him that she did know how to fight. At least, she thought she could.
“Practice?” he said.
“Yeah. How else am I going to get good enough to draw blood?”
He seemed to consider her a moment—maybe deciding whether or not to treat her request as a joke. Then, he smiled. “Don’t want to stand around and miss out on the fun next time, eh? When we meet Blane, maybe?”
“Maybe I just want to hold a sword again.” Prove to herself that she still could. Prove that the bout in the tournament was a fluke, and that she could fight. If not back home, then here.
“Fair enough. And you have a good arm, I remember. All right, then. Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, before the sun gets too high and before Jenks or Abe gets on us for slacking our work.”
ALLEZ
Exhausted, Jill slept well that night and woke with a start at first light, wondering if Henry would go through with the practice he’d promised her. She hadn’t held a sword in weeks, and she missed it. She was surprised—but pleased.
She got up, drank a mug of water, rinsed her face and hands, and looked around. Most of the rest of the crew weren’t up yet. The surgeon was awake, sitting with his back propped against a crate, his hands still bound before him. Captain Cooper wasn’t around at all.