“Move aside, Tadpole, if you can’t be of any use,” Jenks grumbled at her when he came over the side, too close to where Jill was lurking. She scrambled away, but glared after him. He’d gone out of his way to bother her.
The whole operation took an hour or so. Then Captain Cooper shouted, “Let’s away from this cesspit, don’t make me tell you twice or I’ll throttle ye myself and hang you out to dry!”
The crew, shouting and jubilant, scrambled back over to the deck of the Diana. Jill crouched by the side, hiding.
Cooper had put a booted foot on the gunwale, ready to cross back to the Diana herself, when one of the other crew broke away.
“Take me with you!” the man called, and fell forward, pleading. Really pleading, on his knees, hands clasped and everything. He looked sick, with a long, sallow face and an almost toothless mouth. His hands looked arthritic. But he didn’t seem old. “I’ll sign your code, I’ll scrub your decks, I’ll do whatever you say. Take me with you!”
Cooper looked down at him. Still imperious and avenging, she seemed to be considering, but no—she was only taking a moment to sneer at him.
“Keep to the lot you chose, scum.” She returned to her ship.
The captain of the slave ship took this moment, when the pirates had already left and he didn’t risk retribution, to vent his anger. Sputtering, he clutched the side of his ship with one hand and shook the other, in a fist, at the Diana. “God damn you! You’re not a woman at all, you’re a whore! You’re the devil’s own whore!”
“Better the devil’s than yours!” Marjory Cooper shouted back at him. “Give my regards to your wife!”
With more laughter, the ropes between the two ships were cut, and the Diana drifted from her victim.
The crew did the work of setting sail and steering the Diana away, quick and smooth, in high spirits. The deck was crowded, because the slaves from the other ship were still there, huddled together, looking furtively around. Maybe wondering if they were in worse danger now than they had been.
Abe passed by Jill on his way to keep watch over the string of prisoners they’d rescued. He glanced at her. “You’re frowning.”
She was frowning to keep from crying. “I’ve read about this in books. I mean, everyone knows it happened. But I didn’t know…I didn’t realize…”
How could she realize? Compared to this, her life back home was the dream. She wanted to go home.
“You have never had to look it in the face, yes?” She nodded, and his smile turned kind. “That it makes you sad is a good thing.” He moved away, to the people in chains.
Captain Cooper was still hollering orders, and Jill still didn’t know what to do but watch. Abe said something in another language to one of the prisoners; the man shook his head and pointed to another, who came forward and replied. They had a conversation. Meanwhile, somebody ran forward with a hammer and chisel, and another brought up a big piece of metal—an anvil maybe? The shackles around their feet didn’t have keys. They had to be cut open.
Jill couldn’t watch, but she couldn’t go anywhere on the ship to avoid the noise of it, and the cries of pain.
But they were being set free.
She was about to go belowdecks, to hide away—to stay clear of anyone’s attention. There was a shout.
“Tadpole, fetch the surgeon!”
Jill only realized Cooper was talking to her because she was pointing at her. The captain stood near the helm, scrutinizing her. And there was a doctor?
“Surgeon?” she asked.
“The prisoner! Go fetch him!”
That strange, bitter man was a doctor? She had a hard time believing it, but she did what she was told.
Belowdecks, she unbolted the door to his tiny room and said, “You’re a doctor?”
The prisoner smirked at her. “Surgeon. What is it, then? Have you stubbed a toe?”
“The captain—”
“Ah yes,” he said, sighing, heaving himself from the wall with a great show of effort. “Her majesty the captain has stubbed a toe.”
“We captured a slave ship,” Jill blurted.
The man’s indifferent mask slipped, revealing a moment of disbelief. But the scowl returned. “Bloody hell. That’s what all the commotion was, then? Well, let’s get on with it.” He gestured forward for Jill to lead the way.
She watched the doctor—surgeon—emerge from the hold onto the deck. He squinted into the late afternoon sun, shading his eyes as he regarded the scene. The twenty captives were seated. The crewman with the hammer was still working to free them. Jill could see now that they all had bleeding wounds, either from the shackles or other injuries. The doctor frowned.
No matter where she stood, Captain Cooper was the focus of attention on the ship. No matter what other activity swarmed around her, the woman was easy to find, even if she was standing still, saying nothing. Now the captain was marching toward her and the doctor.
The captain didn’t spare Jill a glance, but to the doctor she said, “You’ll keep them alive.”
“It might be kinder to let them die,” the man answered. “I don’t know where you plan on setting them ashore, but chances are they’ll be captured again and end up worse than they are. Might as well drown them now.”
Jill couldn’t tell if he was joking. He sounded so harsh.
The captain didn’t seem bothered. At least her expression didn’t change from its usual hardness. “Treat them as you would any other patient, Mr. Emory, if you please.”
“Do you take me for a complete brute?”
“I don’t take you for anything,” she said, already walking back to the helm.
The doctor stared after her a moment, as if astonished. “Harpy,” he muttered. Then he shook his head and got to work. He pointed at Henry. “Boy! Fetch me some water. Fresh from the scuttlebutt mind you, none of that bilge.” Henry, hanging from some of the rigging to watch the proceedings, scowled but complied.
Jill continued to stay out of the way and out of notice.
Supper came late that evening, and the rations were slim since a portion of the food was distributed to the new passengers. Jill didn’t mind; she wasn’t very hungry. The liberated slaves might not have eaten for days, the way they took in the watery soup and hard bread. She could make out ribs on all of them. While eating, they began to smile, and even laugh, almost delirious. Their interpreter spoke to Abe, who answered him as kindly as he’d spoken to her. Jill couldn’t imagine what they were thinking.
She’d been feeling sorry for herself ever since that tournament, so upset because she couldn’t make a decision about what to do next—but at least she had choices, and a future to go with them. And all she’d done since coming to the Diana was complain that she didn’t belong here. Well, neither did they. And she hadn’t come here in chains. She had nothing to complain about. Nothing. While she still felt trapped here, she suddenly felt lucky.
Well after dark, the new passengers began to sing. The voices were soft, wavering—still weak. Like the lantern light, the words and tunes seemed to rise up among the sails, to echo above them, sounding larger than they were. Jill sat against the side of the ship, near the stern, just out of sight of the small celebration. She didn’t want to be seen. But she tipped her head back and stared up, watching the patterns of light and shadow on rippling sails, feeling the vibration as someone pounded a beat on the deck.
When Henry bounded in front of her, dropping from some unseen spot above, she gasped, flinched, and banged her head on the ship’s rail. He laughed, taking a cross-legged seat nearby, a shadow just at the edge of the lantern light. His eyes gleamed, like this was all a big party to him.