“No,” she said. “It’s all right, I think. Thank you.”
“Good. And—I meant what I said. If you want to come with me, I can get you a pardon and take you away from here. Take you back to wherever you came from.”
But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t understand the explanation. More so, because there was more than that reason not to go with him. He couldn’t take her home. And she didn’t want to leave Captain Cooper and Henry and the rest to go with him.
“Thank you, but no,” she said. “I’ll be all right here.”
Emory nodded to her, then went over the side. When he reached the rowboat, Tennant cut it loose from the Diana. By then, the schooner was already under sail. Canvas filled with wind on both ships. Within moments, sailing side by side, a tiny fleet of their own, they left the rowboat behind.
More explosions boomed; more cannon fire from the Ivy. This time, water splashed nearby—they were finding the range.
Cooper and her crew, and Abe and his, watched as the navy ship sent out launches of its own after the rowboat that had been set adrift, until they were too far away and the boats were no more than specks. The Ivy stopped firing, and seemed more interested in what had been left behind.
“Best of luck to them,” Cooper said lightly. The air seemed brighter now that Blane was gone.
Jill sat down on the deck, back to the gunwale on the port side, watching it all with a sense of calm, of satisfaction that was strange to her. She was exhausted. She’d won, she supposed. She may not have struck down Blane, she may not have fenced brilliantly with dazzling skill. Nevertheless, she felt like she’d won. She should be happy. All was right with the world, which at the moment was entirely encompassed by this little ship, her crew, and her captain.
But she still didn’t know how to get home.
A shadow fell across her; Henry stood over her, scowling, arms crossed.
“That was bloody stupid,” he said. “Bloodiest stupid thing I ever saw. You should have run him through. Killed him dead. It’s what he deserved, an’ he’d a done the same to you without thinking.”
Maybe that was the sense of calm that had settled heavily into her limbs, making her blood flow thickly, warmly: relief that she was alive. She’d survived. She’d never felt so relieved after a fencing bout—those were just for points, after all. This was brilliant.
Not that she ever wanted to fight for her life again. She’d be happy enough to go back to the strip and just have fun. After today, competitive fencing couldn’t be anything but fun.
She smiled up at Henry, which must have infuriated him. “It’s okay. It’s all okay. I did exactly the right thing.”
“You’re loony is what. Heat’s got to you.” He slumped to the deck beside her and studied her. “You could have been killed, Jill. Then what would I have done?”
“Aren’t you the one who’s always saying we’re all going to die young? Then what does it matter?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said.
She took his hand, squeezed it. He continued to look grim.
“All right, you stinking loafers, get off your bums, we’ve a schooner to clean up, and we’ll be following Abe to make sure he’s set to right with his crew. Lots of work and not many hours of light left, so move!”
Jill and Henry pulled each other to their feet and scrambled to follow orders.
Cannonballs had taken chunks out of the Diana’s mainmast, which needed to be shored up. Decks were split, pocked with musket shot, and spattered with blood. Lines had broken, rigging swung loose, tackle was lost, and some of the sails hung in useless tatters. Crewmembers climbed to bring down the damaged pieces. Jill was one of those who sat on deck, mending sail, splicing rope, knotting and reknotting until her hands grew raw and blistered.
The Heart’s Ease sailed several hundred feet larboard of the Diana. They could send supplies back and forth and help each other with repairs. And Cooper could keep an eye on Blane’s old crew. But they actually seemed relieved to have Blane gone.
By dusk, much of the work was done. Food and rum came out, and the party began.
Henry brought Jill a drink and sat with her. Jill could drink watered rum now without choking on it. She’d gotten used to the burn of it. Still, she’d have done just about anything for a cold soda right then. She leaned on the side, watching the celebration as the fiddles and drums came out and the singing and dancing started. She might have fought in a real sword fight, she might be able to climb the rigging like a monkey, like any seasoned sailor, and she could drink rum. But could she stay here? Could she be happy? She didn’t know much about the history, but she knew where Marjory Cooper, Henry, and all the crew were likely to end up: killed in a battle, taken down by cannon fire or musket shot, sunk and drowned; or captured and dragged to Port Royal, to be hanged and left in a cage for crows.
And they’d all tell her that they’d be proud and happy to meet such an end.
This time, it was Captain Cooper who blocked the light from the lanterns that blazed across the deck, when she came up and leaned on the side next to Jill and regarded the scene.
“That sword should go back to the sea. The whole thing this time. Send it to the bottom and be done with it,” Cooper said. She left the command behind the statement unspoken: that if Jill didn’t throw the thing over, Cooper would take it from her and do it.
She was right, Jill thought. Maybe Blane was gone, maybe the sword wasn’t dangerous without him. But why take the chance? Then she had another thought: The shard on its own had been her key here, and she was sure the whole sword was her key home, she just wasn’t sure how. How to find the way home when she’d come here by accident, and no one understood the magic of it, not even Blane?
But now, she thought she had an idea. Ruby slippers.
“What if it comes back again? What if someone like Blane finds it?” Jill held her breath a moment, thinking, hoping the faint idea didn’t fade. She straightened, gripping the hilt, tilting it so it flickered in the lantern light. If it didn’t work, she could swim. But she had a feeling.
“No one’ll find it,” Henry said. “The sea keeps its own.”
Except for me, Jill thought.
The captain stood, tossing back a drink from her flask. “Let’s do it and have done with it, then toast it to hell. You do the honors, Tadpole?”
Jill held the rapier close, point down and to her side. “Okay.”
She looked around one more time. Caught a few of her crewmate’s gazes—Tennant, Matthews, Bessie, Jane. They smiled at her, raising their mugs to her. She wished she could say good-bye to Abe. Beside her, Henry smiled, then frowned, because he guessed what she was thinking. She touched his arm.
She wouldn’t stay to watch them all die young, as pirates did.
Jill sat on the rail, swung a leg over, and remained astride it for a moment, looking over the place that had been her home for the last few weeks. She still wasn’t sure she understood this life. She was pretty sure it would all turn out to be a dream. Strange, though, how the smell of pitch, canvas, and salt water had become so comforting.
“Jill, no, have you gone barmy?” Henry reached for her.
“Henry, what’re you on about?” Cooper said. “Tadpole? Jill?”
They must have seen the farewell in her expression.
“Thank you,” she said to them both.
She swung her other leg over and took only a brief look down to the black water and waves chopping against Diana’s hull. Then she slid off, clutching the sword to her chest with both hands.
The water was cold and shocked the breath out of her; she thought she’d been ready, but she flailed, kicking and swinging with her arms, hoping to find the surface. Her lungs burned, her chest tightened. But she kept a fierce grip on the sword. She couldn’t let it go.