“You… you killed them,” I heard myself force out from between shaking lips. Ambrose’s smile actually looked slightly apologetic, though not the least bit sorry.
“I had them killed,” he agreed, though the semantics of it felt pointless right now.
“Why?” I shuddered, wanting to back away, but I still felt trapped in his monstrous shadow.
“Oh, Jamie. Do you really think that the squire was intending to share the treasure with the likes of us?”
I realized that I had no idea what deal had been struck between Squire Harrington, Mister Kearns, and Captain Ambrose, but whatever it was, evidently it had not been enough for Ambrose. “He would have,” I said desperately, as if that could bring the squire and his friend back to life. “He would have, you did not have to murder him!”
Ambrose’s smile was cool and unflinching. “Such a tragedy,” he said, his voice dour with false sorrow. “The voyage’s contractors both dead from a terrible accident. The sea is such a dangerous place, after all. But no reason to not still seek the treasure now that we are here. We’ll be needing your compass, though.” He held out his palm, and I flinched as if he had struck me, though he had not laid a hand upon me.
“No,” I said softly, feeling the lump in my pocket that suddenly felt like it weighed more than the MORAY’s anchor. And I became very aware of the oilskin packet that held the precious map inside my shirt, that the squire had handed to me only minutes ago, not knowing that his death was to swiftly follow.
“I’ll be taking it either way, Jamie,” Ambrose said, his tone pleasant but firm.
“Cap’n,” came a grunt from behind him where Vanders had been searching the squire and Mister Kearns’ pockets and jackets. “The map ain’ here.”
Ambrose turned away from me to look at Vanders. “The squire had it in his jacket pocket.”
“I jes looked, it ain’ there,” Vanders said, holding open the tattered, blood-stained jacket to reveal its inner pocket turned inside out. “Jes this wa’er pouch.”
Perhaps my foolishness got the best of me, but I saw the moment and took it. I turned and ran with all of my strength for the dense jungle, already several steps inside the tree line before my absence was noticed. I ran fast and long, clutching the map to my chest under my shirt, the compass beating itself against my hip with each step. And then a great shout went up, and I knew that Ambrose had realized that my flight coincided with the departure of both the map and the compass. I forced my legs to go faster than they ever had in my life, as if the very devil were at my heels.
At first, I heard some crashing through the trees behind me, but I dodged left and right, hoping to discourage their pursuit. I do not know how long or how far I ran; it did not help that I had no idea where I was either. It was only when I was so exhausted that I nearly blacked out that I finally stopped. I had a stitch in my side, sweat pouring down my back, my hair clinging to my wet face. I collapsed against a large rock, willing my heart to slow its frantic drum beat. I bent double, coughing as I struggled to catch my breath. I listened but could not hear anyone or anything approaching through the brush.
I sat down on the rock and pulled the oilskin pouch from my shirt, undoing it to stare numbly at the map as I held it with shaking hands. My whole being felt too heavy as I stared at it. My mind was still racing, as if it had run ahead of my body. Squire Harrington and Mister Kearns were dead, by the crew that Ambrose commanded. The handsome dandy, with the silver smile that made my whole body feel like it was on fire, whose bed I had shared, whom I had let defile me in every possible way, was not the man I had met all those weeks ago in the tavern, or even the man who had stood behind me on the deck staring at the island only a short while ago. Perhaps that man had never existed, and I was only just now seeing through the veil he had draped about himself, darker than any shroud. I felt like I wanted to cry, but my heart was too numb to do anything except stare at the blasted map I held, the sole purpose for all of our grief.
I wondered if I could figure out where I was, but there were no obvious landmarks around me. I could see where we had landed ashore in the jollyboat, and where the crew had been building their makeshift camp. I had a general idea of which direction I had run, which would have put me somewhere toward the western side of the island. The treasure was closer to the northeastern side; our locations to it formed a haphazard triangle. At least I knew the pirates would not be able to find the treasure without the map. I had some manner of bargaining, though whether that would help me in the end, I knew not.
I wished I had thought to grab a waterskin, for I had no idea where water might be, or if it would be safe to drink if I did find any. I could already feel my throat aching from dryness. I remembered one of the survival tips Silas had conveyed on one of our long afternoons in the galley.“If yeh can’t find water right away, put a pebble under yehr tongue, it will keep yehr spit goin’ and make i’ easier tah swallow.”Rocks were plentiful in this dense foliage, and I found a small one, wiping it on my shirt before popping it into my mouth. It was warm from the sunlight, but still cooler than I was, and while it was not a solution, it provided me some relief.
I realized I was going to have to sleep out here tonight, a prospect that filled me with utmost dread, for I had never been much of an outdoors adventurer in my childhood. I had no idea what manner of beast might make its home on an island such as this; I could not even be sure that I could identify a creature if I saw it. But leaving myself exposed to the elements seemed less wise, so I studied the map further. There was a sort of mountainous rocky area further west, and I figured that was as good of an option as any for finding shelter. I pulled the compass from my pocket and held it until I was sure of my bearings before setting off toward where the sun had started its slow descent.
It had nearly disappeared behind the rocky area when I finally emerged from the jungle to find it. The shadows made it hard to tell what was rock and what was crevice, but after a bit of searching, I found an opening of a cave that was blessedly uninhabited by creatures, save for a few small crabs who scuttled away as I entered. It was not auspicious by any means, but it was cool and covered, and I was too tired from my grief and my escape to care about anything more than sleeping. I pulled the pebble from my mouth, stuck the oilskin packet under my head as a makeshift pillow, and I was soon asleep in darkness and dank.
Chapter Ten
Thesunwasonlyjust rising when I awoke, stiff and cold in my makeshift shelter. Lying on the hard ground in a briny cave was a far cry from my last few weeks of waking up under silk sheets, but at least I was alive. I tucked the map away in my shirt again, checked the compass in my pocket, and then set about finding something to eat. I was shaky with hunger, and my throat felt dryer than the sand beneath my feet. I made my way into the jungle, finding some morning dewdrops on a few lower-to-the-ground plants, and I licked them up, praying that the plants were not poisonous. There were many trees with various unknown fruits hanging off of them, but my knowledge of such fare was untested. I found several birds pecking away at a citrus-type fruit that had fallen from a tree, and I figured if it was safe for the birds, it was likely to be safe for humans as well. So I plucked one of the lower-hanging ones and sliced it open with a jagged stone. The inside was sweet and a little sour. I made short work of its innards and then another one as well until my stomach no longer pinched with hunger. I was sure I could have eaten the whole tree-full of whatever these were, but I had to keep my wits about me.
And then I found myself quite at a loss of what to do. The squire and Mister Kearns were dead, killed by Captain Ambrose and his crew members on the beach. Was there anyone on the ship I could trust, or were they all under the sway of Captain Miles Ambrose? Had he enchanted all of them the same way he had enchanted me, with his rakish grin and poisonous words? Words that he had dripped into my ear night after night, words that I had absorbed like a sponge because he was handsome and made me feel special. My heart ached in my chest as I wondered if anything that had come out of Miles Ambrose’s mouth had ever been true, or if the man was a construction of nothing more than lies and charm.
I could not trust anyone currently on the island with us, that much I knew. I remembered Ambrose mentioning that first day we had met him at the inn that he was looking for a few more hands, and I thought these last few men he brought on were the least likely to be under his power. But for the life of me, I was unsure if any of them could be trusted, save for one. My friend and kindly companion, Silas Cross.
As I considered my interactions with Silas during the weeks we had been in each other’s company, it made sense in my head that he was not likely to have anything to do with Captain Ambrose’s mutiny. He had come on late; he was an ex-privateer in the King’s Navy; he had taken the lowly job of cook; and due to his scarred face and darker skin, many of the men thought him to be simple, which I thought laughable. Silas Cross was as clever a man as Ambrose, perhaps more so. I felt sure that amongst any of the crew, Silas Cross was the one man I could trust.
Reaching him, on the other hand, would be a challenge. He was still on the ship, as far as I was aware, and there was no way to steal one of the jollyboats by myself. I could attempt to swim from the beach to the ship, which was a terrifying prospect considering that I did not know how to swim, and the waves had buffeted even our proper crafts about. I was far more likely to be dashed upon the rocks than I was to make it safely to the MORAY. The other possibility was to hide in one of the jollyboats in the hope that they would return to the ship for supplies, but that could be hours or even days away, and there was no guarantee which jollyboat they would select. Once I was hidden in one, I would have no opportunity to change boats or deviate from my plan without risking exposure.
Even if I did reach the MORAY and Silas, I could not be sure that the remaining crew members aboard could all be trusted, and there was no way that Silas and I could bring the ship safely across the sea by ourselves. Dread gathered in my gut as I realized that there might not be a way off of this island that did not involve returning to Ambrose. The only bargaining chip I potentially had to save my own neck was the map and the compass. I could not let him have both, or my life would be as easily forfeit as the squire’s.
I found a hollow tree and stuffed the map deep inside its rotting core. To be sure I could find it again, I scratched a deep gash into the bark at its base, and then I made small arrows with rocks, from several different angles, pointing the opposite direction of the tree so it was in the center of its own compass. Hopefully, if anyone were able to find my arrows, pointing them in the opposite direction would send them on a merry chase. The compass I kept in my pocket, for it would serve me in retrieving the map and finding my way back to the fort, and I was reluctant to part with it in any case.
I spent much of the day foraging for food and water, hiding in my cave during the hottest hours. I was nearly giddy with heat and lack of nourishment by the end of the first day, and the night was cold and lonesome and miserable.
The second morning after my flight from the pirates, I checked that the map was still securely hidden, and then I proceeded to forage again. I could not seek out the treasure on my own, for I had no means to dig it up even if I did find it, nor would gold mean anything to me without sufficient water and food. Several times throughout the day, I heard or saw glimpses of the pirates in the jungle, no doubt looking for me. But if any of them were aware of my presence, they did not betray it, and I returned to the cave for another night in my grief and loneliness.
The third day brought one of the pirates into my path as I was foraging. He approached me, waving a dirty handkerchief as a white flag of truce, as if afraid I might decide to shoot him where he stood, though I had no weapon. I held my hands out from my sides so he would keep his own weapons stowed.
“’Ey, Jamie,” the man said, and I recognized Madsen. “I’ve come ’ere with a message from Cap’n Ambrose fer yeh.”
