“You can tell it to me from there,” I said, and he paused a dozen feet or so from me. Madsen was not the largest of the crew, but he could still easily overpower me if he wanted to.
Madsen lowered the handkerchief and mopped his brow with it, a lighter line appearing where the cloth wiped away the grime. “Cap’n Ambrose says ’e wants ta make a trade with yeh,” he said.
“What kind of trade?” I asked cautiously.
Madsen smiled, the space between his front teeth looking even more pronounced than usual. “’E’s got Cross.”
My stomach suddenly dropped inside of me, and I nearly crumpled. Madsen grinned his gap-toothed grin. “’E’s givin’ yeh til tomorrow mornin’. ’E says yeh can give ‘im the map an’ the compass, or ’e’ll send Cross ta the great beyon’. Affer ’e takes off ’is other leg fer the trouble.”
I started to shake. “If I give him the compass and the map, what then?”
“’E says once the treasure is aboard the ship, ’e’ll let both you an’ Cross go. ‘E’s willin’ ta negotiate them terms with yeh. And,” Madsen reached for his belt, holding up a skin of water that sloshed, and my parched tongue ached. “’E sens this ta yeh, as a jester o’ good will.”
I wanted to grab the waterskin, fairly certain that Ambrose would not try to poison me without having the map in his possession, but I was learning very quickly not to trust Captain Miles Ambrose. “You take a drink first,” I said to Madsen.
He smirked. “Cap’n said you’d say tha’.” He flipped open the cap of the skin, pouring a few drops onto the handkerchief in his hand, which stayed its dirty white, and then he lifted the skin to his mouth and took a big swallow, smacking his lips with obvious relish. I watched him carefully, and he wiped at his brow again with the damp cloth. When a minute had passed and nothing had happened, I held out my hand for the waterskin. Madsen tossed it, and I caught it with a heavy slosh in my hands. I am not ashamed to admit I tore the cap off and poured the water into my mouth almost enough to drown in it. The first few drops were the sweetest thing I had ever tasted in my life.
I slowed my drinking, knowing that to have the water come back up again would be a terrible waste, and the skin was only a third full when I stopped and hung it at my side. Madsen watched me with obvious amusement. The water seemed to have returned the thoughts to my brain. “Tell Captain Ambrose I will come tomorrow morning with the compass and the chart,” I said slowly. “But if he harms Silas in any way before then, I swear on my life I will burn the map to ash.”
Madsen nodded, giving me an exaggerated bow before he turned and disappeared into the trees, leaving me once again alone in the tropical wilderness.
I sat down to evaluate my options. I could not leave Silas in Ambrose’s hands. But once I handed over the map and compass, what reason did he have to keep either of us alive? He could give his word, but I had learned the hard way that Captain Miles Ambrose was not someone whose word could be trusted. With no more than myself on my side, I was hopelessly outnumbered. I settled back against a tree with black despair in my heart.
And then it came to me, like a flash of lightning. For Ambrose to ‘have Cross’, he would have brought him to their fort. Perhaps if I slipped in during the night, when they were sure to be heavy with drink, I could free Silas, and we could make our way back to the MORAY where we might find help. It was not a great plan, but it was the best I had at the moment.
The compass was heavy in my pocket as I started toward the beach to find the pirate camp. It was not very difficult, for thirteen pirates, a captive, and a parrot were not a quiet bunch. I found their encampment, the area surrounded by a hastily constructed fence. I took up a place just inside the tree line, and I thankfully also found a tree laden with bananas, so I was able to fill my cramping belly. And then there was nothing I could do but wait until darkness fell.
They caroused far into the night, drinking more and more until most of them stumbled and slept where they fell. Ambrose himself did not join in the drinking, and this worried me, for his senses were as sharp as the edge of his blade. But long after the moon had risen, I could only hear snores from the assembly. One man, I thought it to be Thomas, stood guard with a torch by his side, but even he had imbibed enough that he was not entirely awake, and I circled around to the back of the enclosure with the lightest steps I could muster. I found a place where there was a gap between the fence posts, and I squeezed through it, grateful in that moment for my wiry nature. Silas and I would have to leave by the guarded entrance, but one lookout was much easier dealt with than a crew.
Sails had been erected with poles to create a sort of tent-like structure to protect the pirates from the elements. Silas had to be inside with them, as I saw nothing beyond a few men lying about in the throes of intoxication outside the canvas structure. I slipped into the tent and nearly trod upon a man who had taken up sleeping quarters against the edge. He merely snored louder, and I stood still in the dimness until my eyes had adjusted.
Makeshift hammocks and berths had been scattered around in a haphazard fashion. I was going to have to move like a maiden at a dance to get through them. I was starting to regret my choice to be here, until I caught sight of Silas. He was nearly all the way across the tent from me, lying on his side. His hands were bound behind him, and the rope was then secured to his single ankle, essentially hog-tying him in place. His back was to me, so I did not know if he slept or was awake, though I could see the rise and fall of his chest to know that he yet lived.
I cautiously picked my way through the sleepers, having to jump aside more than once as someone would toss about in their stupor. I had just begun to think that perhaps I would make it when a screech sounded above my head, a sound that might have turned my hair white. Bosun dove at me, and I found myself beating at his bright blue feathers as he flapped about my face, squawking to wake the dead.
I turned to flee and ran full into the arms of Captain Ambrose, who for his part closed upon and held me tight. “Ah, Jamie,” he said as I kicked and struggled. The noise around me was suddenly deafening, and my eyes burned as several torches were lit, nearly the entire crew staggering to their feet like monsters risen from the grave. I screamed and thrashed, but Ambrose held me tight. “You are only wearing yourself down, lad.”
I knew he was right. Even if I managed to break his hold, there was nowhere to run, as I now had a score of pirates between me and any sort of escape. I had been played the fool, and now Ambrose had me too. I stopped fighting, my limbs going limp in his embrace, and I chanced a glance at Silas. He had rolled to the other side so I could see his face now. He sported a black eye, and dried blood crusted his forehead from a wound there, a dirty handkerchief tied around his mouth as a gag, but he seemed alert and otherwise unharmed. How long that would last was anyone’s guess.
Ambrose tied my hands behind me but left my feet unbound, for where would I possibly be able to run? Some of the crew went back to sleep, others stayed awake and began a spirited game of dice. Ambrose led me outside of the tent and over to a nearby pile of firewood, pushing me down to sit upon it, and he perched next to me, the vision of sincerity.
“Well now, Jamie. It seems we have found ourselves at a crossroads. You’ve put me in a rather difficult position, you have.”
I glared at him but said nothing. Ambrose sighed. “I’ve always liked you, lad. You’re the picture of my own self when I was younger.”
“I am certain I am more honest than you have ever been,” I forced out, and Ambrose let out a guffaw of laughter.
“There ain’t no fortune in honesty, Mister Davis. I’m sure you will understand that one day soon. But now, let us have a discussion, man to man, as it were.” He gave me a smile that reminded me much of my Uncle Ned when he would ask me a question and I would give the correct answer in return. “The way I see it, you have two choices. You can join my crew, seek out the treasure with us, and get a full share. Or you can die here, with no one to mourn your passing save for Mister Cross, who will presently suffer the same fate.”
I shuddered at this. Ambrose wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer against him. Despite the revulsion that turned my stomach rancid, I was oddly grateful for his warmth in the chill of the ocean’s breeze. Suddenly, being in his embrace again was so familiar that my heart gave a quiver under my ribs, like a bird woken momentarily from slumber.
“Am I to answer, then?” I asked with a very tremulous voice.
“If you have your reply,” Ambrose replied. “But take your bearings. You’re free to answer no, but what would be the good of that? There really is only one path for you, my lad. I always wanted you to join and take your share. We’re shipmates, aren’t we, Jamie? And we could be so much more.” Ambrose’s thumb ran down my cheek. “Time goes so pleasant in your company, you see. And with the treasure, we’ll be rich men.”
A shudder went through me as Ambrose stroked my face. “You killed Squire Harrington and Mister Kearns. Why do you think I would help you?”
Ambrose’s face visibly darkened even under the moonlight. “Now, look you here, Jamie Davis,” he said in a steady whisper that was no more than audible, “you’re within half a plank of death, and what’s a long sight worse, of torture. If you refuse my offer now, well… I can’t be responsible for what my crew decides to do with you. But if you are with me, you mark, I’ll stand by you through thick and thin.”
