All this time, Captain Cooper stayed at the helm, staring through her spyglass to open sea, or checking the direction of her makeshift compass. The rapier tip always pointed away, to where the Heart’s Revenge had sailed.
In a moment of quiet, Jill crept toward the helm, expecting the captain would yell at her to get back to work, and find some new chore for her. The captain glanced at her—and didn’t yell. Encouraged, Jill nodded at the rapier point, resting in Cooper’s hand.
She wanted to touch it—it was why she’d picked it out of the sand in the first place, and kept it. It still seemed to whisper secrets to her, just out of her hearing.
“How does it work?” Jill asked.
Cooper gazed over the water. “That’s ‘How does it work, sir.’”
Jill glared. “Sir. How does it work? How does it know?”
“Blane’s got the rest of the sword,” she said. “That’s how.”
“Can it do anything else?” Jill asked. Like reveal the secret of how she got here, and how to get home.
Regarding the pitted steel, Cooper shrugged. “I don’t know. The sword it came from has power—that’s why it wants to get back. What do you think it can do?”
“I don’t know. But I think it has something to do with me.”
This time, Cooper looked at her, her eyes narrowed, showing wrinkles from so much time squinting in the sun. “You do, do you? What, then?”
If she could explain it, she wouldn’t need to ask. “All I know is I found it, then I fell into the water, and then all this happened.” Jill spread her arm to show the Diana, its crew, and the ocean around them.
“And you think, somehow, this has the power to undo it all?”
“I don’t want to undo it—” And Jill stopped, because she didn’t want to forget this. She didn’t want it to have never happened, even the worst parts, like the battle, the amputated arm, and the slave ship. She wanted to remember Nanny, the nighttime sky, and learning to fight with Henry. “But I want to go home. And if some kind of magic brought me here, then it can send me back.”
Cooper might have yelled at her about being part of the crew and never going home; but she didn’t. Instead, she looked sad, her expression turning soft. Jill hadn’t expected that.
“Get back to work, Tadpole,” Cooper said finally. Jill did so.
During the evening meal, Captain Cooper called for order and addressed the crew.
“Blane’s headed east, that’s all I know,” she said, her voice carrying.
“It’s what a bit of rotten steel told you,” Jenks said, a thought echoed by noises of agreement. The soiled bandage over his eye made him seem even more surly.
“Aye, and we all have reason enough to curse the man and do what we can to keep him off these waters. He’s never done a one of us any favors.”
“None’s arguing with you there, Captain. But we haven’t taken a real prize in weeks. We signed on for the loot, not a bloody foxhunt.”
“We take Blane, we take his loot,” Cooper said.
“If he don’t sink us first,” another man said—John, one of Jenks’s mates. More grumbling followed.
The captain went on. “Here’s my notion: We sail to Nassau. Refit what we need, unload what we have to unload—drink us a bit of ale while we’re there.” Murmurs of agreement met this idea. “And we can also get word about Blane and where he’s gone to, and what he’s planning.”
Jenks was still frowning when he stood and said, “I call for a vote.”
“Where else do you suggest we go?” Cooper said.
“No. Not a vote on destination. I call a vote for captain,” he said.
The ship was quiet for a moment, everyone falling still and looking at the first mate. His face was shadowed in the setting sun, making his glare and his scowl seem worse. He gripped his mug in both hands and ignored the wondering looks that turned to him. Jill thought he might have been drunk.
Jill leaned close to Henry to whisper, “What’s happening?”
Quietly and urgently, he answered, “Jenks is tired of chasing after Blane. He wants to replace Captain Cooper.”
“With who?” she said.
Before Henry could answer, Captain Cooper gave a brash laugh, drawing their attention.
“What?” she said to Jenks. “And vote for yourself instead? Think you can do better, then?”
Jenks nodded. “Aye, you’ve forgotten what we’re here for. For prizes, not revenge!”
Jill felt cold—she didn’t want Jenks as captain. She thought of what would have happened to her that first day if Jenks had been in charge—and thought she’d have ended up back in the water, or worse.
“You think I’m afraid of a vote?” Cooper said. “You think I’ll start sobbing like a wee maid? What about the rest of you? Are you with him or me?”
The crew was silent.
“A vote’s been called,” Abe said, his voice clear. He climbed into the shrouds, putting him above the gathering. “Are you sure, Jenks?”
“That fight today never should have happened. Of course I’m sure.”
Some grumbles of agreement echoed him, and some of dissent. Surely this wouldn’t end peacefully.
“Then we vote.”
Jill gripped Henry’s arm. “What happens now? What happens if Cooper loses the vote?”
He shook his head, his jaw set, his brow furrowed with worry. “The captain and those loyal to her will be set ashore, and the Diana sails on.”
“She won’t lose, will she?” Jill said. Henry didn’t answer.
Abe brought out two wooden buckets. Meanwhile, the crew passed out markers among themselves—they looked like buttons of metal and bone—then lined up in front of Abe. Jill hung back, but Henry pulled her in line.
Abe held up the bucket in his right hand, then his left. “This is a vote for Captain Cooper. This is a vote for First Mate Jenks. Captain?”
Cooper was first, and she held up her marker for all to see with a flourish and placed it in the right-hand bucket. Many of the crew cheered, which made Jill feel a little better. Cooper couldn’t possibly lose. Jenks was next, and of course he put his marker in the left-hand bucket. More people cheered. Jill didn’t like the way Henry was frowning.
Abe put his marker in Cooper’s bucket.
One by one they cast their votes. Jill tried to keep track of how many people dropped buttons in Cooper’s bucket, but the line moved quickly and she lost count. Far too many people put their markers in Jenks’s bucket. The line stepped forward, and Jill was standing before Abe.
“Last vote, Tadpole,” the quartermaster said. He pointed to the buckets. “Cooper or Jenks?”
She dropped her button for Captain Cooper.
“Henry, boy. Help me count,” Abe said. The two hunched over the buckets and began counting.
The crew watched while Abe counted, slow and careful, putting each button in a pile by its bucket. Henry counted out the buttons a second time. Jenks paced, taking swigs from a bottle tucked in his hand. Cooper stood at the helm, waiting calmly.
“I’ll have you fined for drunkenness, Jenks,” Cooper said to him.
“Not if you’re stuck by yourself on a godforsaken spit of land, you won’t,” he called back.
When Abe stood, everyone turned their attention to him.
“I have the count!” He waited for a dramatic pause. Jill was about to scream at him, but someone did it for her.
“Just tell us what it is, you black dog!”
Then Abe smiled. “Jenks has eighteen votes. Captain Cooper has twenty-seven and is our captain still.”
A cheer went up—and most everyone cheered. Probably even a few who had voted for Jenks. No one questioned Abe or asked for a recount—he’d been voted quartermaster and everyone trusted him. They’d all watched him count. Jill might have expected fighting to break out, the whole rowdy crew taking sides and battling for control of the ship. But they respected the vote. Not even Jenks protested.
Cooper stepped slowly across the deck to where Jenks stood, his bottle of rum hanging at his side.
“Jenks, you’re the best sailing master on the seas. But I can’t let this pass.”