Her arm became very tired, then. The sword she held no longer called out for blood, no longer surged with power. It was just a weight of steel. Well-made, beautiful steel. But nothing more.
Mostly, then, it was done. With their captain defeated, Blane’s men turned docile. They sat by the gunwales and didn’t make trouble. They’d been loyal to Blane’s power, which was gone now. The crew of the Diana had defeated the boarding party. The cannons were silent.
Captain Cooper got to her feet, aided by Abe and the doctor. But she walked over to Jill under her own power, limping, hand pressed to her side over the bandage wrapped around her middle.
“Come to gloat then, Marjory?” Blane said, hateful as ever.
“Henry,” she said softly. “Tie the bastard up. Good and tight.”
Henry did, tying Blane’s hands and feet with yards of rope, tying another loop around the pirate’s neck so if he tried to move too much he’d strangle himself.
Finally, Jill could lower the rapier. It was just a sword now. It had defeated its master, tasted Blane’s blood. Any mysticism she’d felt from it, any power it had given her, seemed to have dissipated. She felt weak, like she wanted to melt. Her muscles were loose, exhausted.
Captain Cooper stood beside her, in front of Blane, now trussed and lying by the forecastle of the ship.
“Are you all right, Tadpole?” she said.
“Aren’t I a frog yet?”
Cooper chuckled and squeezed Jill’s shoulder. Jill sighed. “I couldn’t kill him. Was that wrong?”
“No. It’s never wrong, that’s what the preachers say. But I think it means you don’t really belong out here.”
That was what Jill had known all along.
“On the other hand, a quick death’s too good for him, isn’t it? I’d like to see him hang in a gibbet,” she said. Jill just stared.
“Ahoy! Ship ahoy!” The call came from the Diana. No lookout had been posted during the battle, but one of the sailors leaned over the prow of the smaller ship and shouted. Everyone looked.
Beyond the spit of shore that marked the end of the island, an incongruous shape emerged, a bright glint against the water. Jill squinted, trying to bring the spot into focus, wishing for the captain’s spyglass. Then the spot moved, gliding upon the water, coming into full view. Another ship, three-masted, under full sail, moving fast. A spot of color flashed amidst the sails—the red and white of the British navy.
“It’s the bloody navy, just what we need right now,” Cooper muttered. She marched to Emory and grabbed his collar, curling it in her fist—then wincing and pressing a hand to her bandaged side. But her voice was no less fierce. “One of your friends, then?”
Emory glanced out at the navy ship, circling the area like a predator.
“She’s the HMS Ivy. I believe she’s been tracking you since Jamaica.”
“With your help?”
Emory wouldn’t look at her. “I imagine they were waiting for the battle to end.”
“So they could sail in pretty as birds to clean up the scraps? I ought to hang you from the bowsprit and ram you through their hull!”
“Captain,” Emory said. “Let me signal them. I’m sure we can work out a deal. The reward for Blane is considerable—”
“I don’t trust you. You’re just trying to find a way off this boat and sell us all out besides.”
“I can’t deny it.”
Cooper snarled at him.
“Captain!” Abe called. “Speaking of gibbets, maybe we should let the English sharks have him?”
Emory brightened for the first time since Jill had seen him. He made a quick nod. “That sounds very agreeable. I can raise flags to signal the Ivy and have them come alongside—”
The captain shook her head. “We’re not talking about you, we’re talking about Blane.”
“Captain, please, I won’t say a word against you—”
“No.” Cooper turned to her quartermaster. “Abe. How’d you like your own ship?”
Abe glanced over the deck of the Heart’s Revenge, her masts and sails the worse for wear after the battle but still whole, still seaworthy. If possible, his grin grew wider. “I think that would be a very fine thing. But I think she’ll need a new name.”
Cooper regarded the captured ship, squinting into the sun, thoughtfully pursing her lips. “Aye, I think you’re right. You have a thought?”
“I do,” he said. “Heart’s Ease. It’s a good name—and it will drive Blane mad.”
Cooper addressed Blane’s surviving crew who’d been gathered, battered and bleeding, to face their conqueror. “All right, you scurvy lot. You’ve got a choice. You keep your old places on your old ship with one of my crew as your captain, you sign my articles and forget all the tripe that bugger fed you—you do all that, you’ll be free as you ever were on these waters. Or you can follow your captain into irons and the admiralty’s prison.”
All of Blane’s men agreed to become part of a new crew.
Cooper turned to the gunnery mate next. “Tennant? Prepare a boat for our friends so we can deliver our package properly.”
“Aye, sir!”
“The rest of you—get to your posts and ready to make sail, unless you want to hang in a gibbet tomorrow!” Abe repeated the command, and the crews of two ships rushed to action.
Captain Cooper and most of her crew made their way back to her own ship. The captain was weakened, everyone could see it. Her face was pale and she moved slowly. But her attitude remained intact. She glared and shouted and berated her crew, same as always, which made the world feel like all was well.
“Is she going to be all right?” Jill asked Emory when she had a chance, back on the deck of the Diana.
“She needs to rest,” he said. “But yes, I think she will be. Curse her, I’ve got to get off this ship.” He gazed at the navy ship as if he was considering swimming for it.
A familiar boom thudded across the water; smoke rose from the Ivy’s side—they’d fired a cannon. It seemed to be just a warning shot—nothing was hit. But if the Diana was going to run, they’d have to do it soon.
“You don’t need to leave,” Emory said. “Once I’ve explained the situation, they’ll grant you amnesty—”
“What exactly will you explain to them?” Cooper said. “That you’ve captured one infamous pirate captain—or two?”
The rowboat was ready. Overhead, sails were rippling, tugging at masts, and the Diana lurched like a dog at a leash.
“It’s time,” Cooper said. “Put Blane over and we’ll leave him for His Majesty’s friends.”
“What about the reward money?” Emory said. “You could—”
“We’ve got Blane’s ship, and that’s reward enough for us.”
Blane, secured by ropes and burdened by chains—Abe had found the chains they’d broken off the Africans and used them to make him doubly secured—was dragged to the side and lowered over, like so much cargo. At the bottom of the boat he thrashed against his bindings, which caused the little boat to rock until ocean water sloshed over the sides.
“I curse you, Marjory Cooper!” he shouted at her. “With all my blood and spit I curse you!”
“No less than I expected, love!” she hollered back at him. Then she turned to the surgeon one more time. “Mr. Emory, your turn. You can explain to the navy all you want.”
“Pardon me?”
“I’m sick of you. You want to talk to the navy so badly, you go with Blane and talk to them. Collect the reward money yourself if you want it. Unless you’d rather stay here?”
The surgeon smiled wryly. “Aye, sir. I mean, no. That is—as you wish, as always.”
Without further argument, he took hold of the line that had been used to lower Blane. Then he turned to Jill, who was leaning on the nearby shrouds, watching the proceedings like a regular sailor.
“Miss Jill? How’s your arm? Is it hot to the touch?”
Jill checked the stitched-up wound on her left arm. It was healing, pink flesh bound up with dark threads. It itched and was tender when she touched it, but it wasn’t hot, it didn’t hurt.