And now it was Jill’s, and maybe it really could help her get home.
Whatever had happened to the metaphysical fog that made her lose her way when she passed through here last time, she still had to contend with the forest itself, its tangle of vegetation, crawling vines, and jutting branches. She couldn’t pick her way and choose her path; she just ran and shoved her way past obstacles, letting them claw and scratch at her. The wounds stung, a sheen of sweat covered her, and her whole body felt sticky. It was too hot to breathe. She expected that at any moment she’d hear a musket fire, and that Blane would be standing behind her, shooting her dead. She ran as if she could outrun the sound of gunfire.
“Hey! Oy there!” The shout came from off to her left; the speaker was hidden in shadow and foliage. Jill automatically veered away.
“Get her! She’s here!” another voice said, this one right in front of her, and she realized too late that she’d fallen for a trick, and the voices meant to steer her where they could best capture her. It probably didn’t matter where she ran now.
She kept on, shoving her way past shrubs and branches that seemed intent on catching her and holding her.
Suddenly, so quickly she stumbled at the freedom of it, she left the forest and entered open country near the edge of Nassau. And standing before her were Henry, Abe, and Captain Cooper. Jill stared, gasping for breath, disbelieving. Behind her, two more of the crew tore out of the trees. They looked hot and sweaty and were brushing dirt and debris off themselves. Jill, holding back a sob of relief, wondered how long they’d been chasing after her.
Henry looked like he’d been running, trying to catch his breath. He had his sword drawn and grasped it like he was anxious for a fight.
“God, Jill!” he said. “You’re all right! You an’t hurt!”
She wasn’t sure that was entirely true, but she was here and alive. She nodded, sheepish at the panic. He went on, still desperate. “When I’d heard you were after Blane, I thought—you were gone, we’d find you hacked to pieces and that would be the end of it. Are you barmy, are you trying to get yourself killed?”
He was truly worried about her. All his joking had disappeared, and if he really had found her dead, he would have gone after Blane himself, and Blane would have thrown him over the cliff, too.
Jill stared at him. If they’d been alone, if they hadn’t both been holding swords, she would have flung herself at him and kissed him.
Instead, before Jill could do anything, Captain Cooper smiled and let out a sigh. She said, “Bloody hell, you’ve got his sword.”
13
PASSÉ
They moved quickly from the woods back to Nassau and to the wharf. Arranged like a military squadron, Cooper and Abe in the lead; Tennant and Matthews behind, pistols drawn, keeping watch; Henry stayed at Jill’s elbow, gazing outward like he expected demons to attack them. And maybe Blane really could send demons after them.
Cooper let her keep the broken sword. Jill slung her own, whole rapier back in its hanger on her belt, and held the broken one in sweaty hands.
“What happened back there?” Henry asked. “What the blazes were you doing?”
“I thought maybe Blane would know how to get me home,” she said, weakly, sad now that the thought had ever occurred to her.
“So what happened? Did you find him? Obviously you found him, or at least his sword. Did you talk to him? What did he—”
“I challenged him to a duel,” Jill said, wincing.
“Bloody hell, you did not,” Henry said. His lip curved, a hint of his usual smile. “Please tell me you killed him dead.”
“No. I ran. I guess that makes me a coward.”
“Never!” Henry said, laughing. “Real pirates always run from fights, and I knew you were a real pirate the moment we fished you out of the drink.”
“Captain, look ahead there,” Abe said, holding out an arm to stop the company. He nodded ahead but didn’t point. Jill saw a small group of men, four or five of them, pistols drawn, emerge from an alley ahead, looking back and forth, searching.
“Right, this way,” Cooper said, turning to cut through the yard of a squat clapboard building, a maze of rotten coils of rope and broken timbers. The way was dark; Jill couldn’t see the ground more than a few feet before her, and every step was treacherous. Single file, the group picked a path through the debris, past the building, and out of view of their pursuers.
They made their way to a rocky shore.
“They’ll be watching the pier,” Cooper said. “Abe and Tennant, bring us a rowboat and we’ll try to sneak out from under them. Matthews, go through the town, get everyone back on the ship. We’ve got to fly and we only have a little time before the tide turns against us. Anyone who’s left is left. Go!” The men ran.
The remaining three of them waited, backs together, looking out in all directions. Henry and Cooper had pistols drawn, and Jill suddenly felt defenseless with only two swords. A sword and a half, really.
Captain Cooper took the opportunity to berate her. “What did you think you were doing then, running off on me like that? Going to sell me out to my enemy then? Deserting the ship and going turncoat?”
“I don’t know what I was doing,” Jill said, sullen. “You didn’t seem to care all that much about what happened to me, so I had to take care of myself.”
“By running to Blane?” she said, scowling.
“If he brought me here, even by mistake, he ought to know how to send me home, right?”
“And what did the man do, then? Apologize and offer to send you home straight away?” Cooper said.
“No. He was going to throw me off a cliff.”
“There, you see?”
“But I got his sword,” Jill said.
They were glaring at each other, with Henry to the side, looking back and forth between them. Cooper grumbled at him. “What are you staring at, whelp?”
“Um…” Henry’s eyes went wide and he pointed his pistol past Cooper’s shoulder. “Look there!”
Henry fired; Jill and Cooper dropped to the ground. The shot sounded like a miniature cannon, an echoing pop. The smell of burned gunpowder was the same.
There were two of the enemies hiding behind a tower of barrels at the end of the block. Jill was pretty sure Henry had missed, because they leaned out, stealing looks, waving their own pistols—and firing. Puffs of white smoke rose up. Jill covered her head, but they missed as well. The three of them took shelter behind their own pile of crates and debris.
Cooper fired next while Henry reloaded, which required ramming powder and ammunition down the barrel of the weapon. Her targets ducked back without being hit. Blane’s men fired a second time and missed again.
This could go on all night.
“Here, girl. Keep them distracted.” Cooper put the pistol in her hand and ran, disappearing around the street corner.
“I don’t know what to do with this,” she hissed at Henry.
“Here. You fire, I’ll reload.” He handed her his own pistol and took Cooper’s empty one from her.
How hard could it be? Especially since the pistols didn’t seem able to hit anything. She sighted down the barrel and waited for one of the targets to appear.
Half a face emerged and a pistol fired toward her. Jill pulled the trigger—the brass mechanism on top of the pistol snapped forward and the weapon fired, jumping in her hand. A cloud of white smoke expanded and partially blinded her. She coughed and waved it out of her face.
The two men were still there, still firing. Her shot probably flew out over the harbor. She huffed in frustration. She hated missing.
“Next shot,” Henry said, handing her Cooper’s newly loaded pistol and taking the empty from her.
She repeated her fencing mantra. Stay calm, keep breathing, don’t panic. She just had to be careful and take her time.