Then, for a brief moment, no one else came for her. The battle hadn’t stopped; crashing weapons and shouted curses still dominated, drowning even the splash of waves against hulls and the rippling of sails. Jill came to rest against the foremast, leaning against the stout pole to catch her breath.
Across the ship, she caught sight of Captain Cooper. The captain was staring toward the deck of the Heart’s Revenge with murder in the set of her jaw. The woman sheathed her sword.
Captain Cooper hauled herself up the shroud, as skilled and nimble as any of her crew, and hacked at a line, one of the ropes hanging off the yard of the mainsail. Then she climbed it, pushed off the mast, and swung to the deck of the Heart’s Revenge. She actually swung—just like in the movies, after all.
When the captain reached the enemy’s deck, she drew her sword and looked around, urgent. She was on the hunt and out for blood.
Jill put her sword in its hanger and dagger in her belt and followed.
She climbed the shrouds to reach the level of the other deck and hesitated. It must have been ten feet from here to there—a long space, with a fall on hard wood when she missed. Captain Cooper had made it look easy, had known exactly which rope to slice to carry her over the space. Jill looked around, stricken, unable to figure out the trick of it. She could see it now: She’d try to swing over and end up hanging there like a caught fish, swinging crazily and wondering how to get down.
Jill didn’t want to mess with it. She jumped.
Arms out, she grabbed for the side of Blane’s ship, hooked her elbows over, which left her feet dangling. But she didn’t fall. Hoping no one decided to attack her while she flailed, she pulled herself up, swinging and hooking her leg over and finally rolling onto the deck of the Heart’s Revenge.
She glanced below, to the deck of the Diana. The battle there was a mob, a tangle of bodies, weapons, shouting, and blood. She’d never get the blood off the deck.
But she was on enemy territory now. Pressing her back to the side, she took in the deck of the Heart’s Revenge.
There in the center, swords drawn, Marjory Cooper and Edmund Blane circled each other. A few of Blane’s crew remained on the ship, but they held back, watching with a mix of anticipation and fear—jaws clenched, hands on hilts, but swords left in hangers. Like they wanted to help Blane, but they didn’t dare. They didn’t dare cross Cooper.
Jill drew her sword. Blane’s sword; hers now that it was whole. Sunlight gleamed along its length and turned it to silver.
Blane’s men saw it, recognized it, and began to whisper among themselves. She moved forward, and Blane’s crew backed away—calmly enough, but with trepidation in their gazes. Jill didn’t think she was all that scary—but if they saw her as the apprentice of Captain Marjory Cooper, the fearsome pirate queen? And if they feared Blane’s sword? Maybe she was scarier than she thought. That made her straighten and put a wicked curl in her lips.
Then, his attention drawn by the commotion, Blane saw her. He glanced at Cooper and chuckled.
“What have you done, Marjory? Mended the rapier?”
“Never you mind, you bastard. Fight me, will you!”
But Blane circled around Cooper, creeping past her in order to get closer to Jill. “No,” he murmured. “I’m going to take back what’s mine. Perhaps a second sacrifice would make me even more powerful.”
Jill squeezed her hand around the hilt, rearranging her grip. She could fight him. This was what she’d come here to do.
“Keep away from her,” Cooper said, and put herself between Blane and Jill. “She’s just a child. Be a man and fight me!”
No, Jill wanted to shout. They’d agreed on it. This was her fight—she would face Blane. But that wasn’t what Cooper had in mind. The captain of the Diana launched an attack, sword raised, lunging at Blane as she roared in anger. Blane smoothly raised his sword to parry and knocked the attack out of the way.
Cooper didn’t stop. She swung the blade around for another attack, hunting for the next opening, pressing as she did so that Blane had to scurry backward to maintain distance between them. She had him on the defensive, delivering blow after blow. Jill had to focus to work out all the movements. But none of the attacks got through. Blane repelled them all. In her fury, Cooper was less careful of her own defense.
Blane sidestepped, removing himself from her line of attack and countering with his own thrust at her face. She retreated a wide step, nearly falling into a couple of watching crewmen who scrambled out of the way. This broke her rhythm. Now Blane had the advantage. Now he was the one who pressed.
Captain Cooper swung out of the corner that Blane was trying to trap her in and ranged back to the center of the deck. Blades struck in earnest now, steel smacking and scraping against steel. Cooper met each of Blane’s attacks with a strong parry and each time delivered a counterattack. But Blane never let an opening stay open for long. They were both good, really good. Jill could have just watched them, in awe of their skill and effort. It was because they fought for blood. They fought with everything they had. That made the fight different. Made it terrifying.
Sweat soaked Cooper’s long hair, making it stick to her cheeks and back; her shirt grew damp with it. Blane’s expression was grim, his face flushed. He still wore his coat and must have been roasting in it; at one point he rubbed the sleeve across his face and the velvet came away dark with sweat. But their movements never slowed, their intensity never faded. By her snarl, Cooper clearly wanted to kill him. By his grimness, Blane clearly wasn’t about to let her.
Noises thumped on the side of the Heart’s Revenge—hooks coming over the side and people climbing up the ropes attached to them. Jill leaned over, uncertain, fearful—were they Blane’s crew, returning after a slaughter, or Cooper’s crew, victorious? If the Heart’s Revenge crew had slaughtered the crew of the Diana, they might as well let Blane win the duel—they were all dead then anyway.
It was Henry who appeared over the side of the Heart’s Revenge first. He had blood smeared across one cheek.
He saw Jill and grinned. “What’s going—” But he saw, and his mouth opened in shock.
Apart from the constant background noises of waves and wind always present on a ship at sea, they only heard the beat of boot steps on the deck as Cooper and Blane moved back and forth, their gasps for breath and huffs of effort. The sounds of fighting had faded, and even the fog of gunpowder had blown away. Everyone else just watched.
There came a hiccup in the rhythm of swords crossing and bodies moving. The fighters closed for what seemed just a moment, their blades caught against each other as the two crashed together in a failed attack. With a cry of rage Blane disentangled himself with a slash of his blade. Cooper shouted back, right in his face, and her own weapon turned.
Jill thought it was done, that it was all over for him. But it was Captain Cooper who fell away, a slash of red marring her side.