“Be a good lad and go listen at the flap if you can,” Ambrose said. “I’m curious as to how they may go about it.”
“Shiver me timbers!” Bosun screeched from his perch on a nearby box.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what ‘it’ was, but I obediently moved over to the tent entrance. I could not hear all of what was being said, but I listened faithfully. “ …the dandy that brought us all here and blundered us down to this, and that cub that I mean to have the ass of,” Roderick was saying, grabbing lewdly at his crotch.
A couple of the crew laughed at that. “I say we cast him off right here,” Reed said. “We have the treasure. If’n we off him and the cook, there’s no one to put the finger to us ‘cept the boy, and he ain’t no concern.”
“We can dispose of him a’fore we reach land,” Duncan said.
“But we needs to do it proper-like now,” said Franklin. “Rules o’ the sea, and all.”
There were a few mumbles that I could not make out, and my heart in my ears did not help the matter.
There was the sound of rustling, and then the rip of paper, several men letting out a hoot of laughter. “You don’ soiled it now, Morgan,” someone, maybe Clark, said. “’Ere come lightning from the sky to smite ya.”
“I’ll give the church double me tithe,” Morgan said with a snicker. “The goo’ Lord Almighty cares more ‘bout that, I reckon.”
“’Ere,” said Reed, and I heard the scratch of something over the paper. “We need a time?”
“Nah,” Roderick said. “No reason to give ‘im time to think abou’ it.” And then footsteps began approaching the tent again.
I returned to my former position, for it seemed a head wise that they should not find me watching them. The group entered in a much more lively manner than they had exited. Once assembled, Morgan stepped forward and held out something to Ambrose. He took it between his bound hands, and I saw that it was a piece of paper with a circle filled in on it from one of the fire coals. My mind flitted to the similar paper George Conley had received from Ambrose that had signified the end of his miserable life.
“The black spot,” Ambrose said, gazing down at the blackened paper. It had words printed on it, and I realized it was a page from the Bible that Morgan always carried. “Well, I suppose it’s done then. Who amongst you shall be taking over as captain?” he asked pleasantly.
“Roderick,” Duncan said, and I felt ice prickle in my heart as the burly man gave me a lascivious grin. I felt Silas stir just a bit at that.
Ambrose chuckled softly as he looked down at the paper, reading aloud. “‘And said unto them, What will ye give me, and I will deliver him unto you? And they covenanted with him for thirty pieces of silver.’ Well now. Was someone being poetic, or are you all really just a Judas lot?” Morgan suddenly looked very uncomfortable, shifting his feet uneasily. I suspected he had torn a page at random but might now be feeling the weight of the Almighty upon him for his irreverence.
Roderick snarled softly, then suddenly snatched me to my feet by the hair, and I could not stop a cry of pain as he hauled me up. Ambrose watched him with an impassive stare that chilled me to my core. Roderick pulled me back against him, and I flinched when I felt his cock press against my backside, his fingers bruisingly across my collarbone to hold me in place. “What say yeh, Ambrose? Yeh wanna meet yer maker before or after I have some fun wit’yer li’le bitch?”
I tried to pull away, but I was hopelessly pinned by Roderick’s tree branch of an arm.
Ambrose gazed back at Roderick. “I told you not to touch him.”
Roderick spat into Ambrose’s face, and the former captain turned his head aside, reaching up to wipe the saliva away with the bindings that still held his wrists. “You ain’ the one givin’ orders ‘ere now, Miles,” he said. His other hand slid up to grasp the back of my neck and squeeze, making me wince. “Iyu’ll let ya lissen while I make ‘im scream. Then when I come back, I’ll cut yehr beatin’ heart from yehr chest and give it to ‘im as a gift. Real poetic-like, don’cha think?”
Ambrose only gazed solemnly back at him. An icy chill went through me as Roderick shoved me by the back of the neck toward the tent’s entrance. Raw, animalistic instinct kicked in, and I began to yell and thrash with all my might, even as he shoved me out into the island’s cool night, the tent flap closing behind us. I screamed and kicked and bucked, as if possessed by the very devil, trying to pull my bound arms from his grasp, to run, to do anything, but Roderick gripped my neck like I was a newborn kitten, hauling me across the sand. I purposely slipped and sprawled, trying to roll away from him, but he caught me around the waist and picked me up under his arm like I were but a chunk of firewood. “Keep up tha’ fightin’, boy,” he said, giving me a grin that showed his gruesome teeth. “I like when they scream.”
I flailed and kicked, but my current position prevented me from effectively being able to do much. He carried me over to where the four large wooden chests of treasure had been loaded into the jollyboats in preparation for the morning’s departure. He dropped me to my feet and then shoved me down face-first against one of the chest’s lids. My feet slid in the soft sand as I struggled and fought with every bit of spite I had within me. My fists clenched and strained against the rope that held me, burning fire into my wrists. I heard the rustle of fabric, and my heart seized in dread as I realized he was undoing his trousers. It took him a moment to do so with only one hand, the other pressed to my shoulder to keep me in place against the dirt-encrusted wood of the chest, but then he grunted, and I felt him press against me from behind. He reached for the back of my breeches, and I closed my eyes, willing myself to not give him the satisfaction of tears. If he wanted a fight now, I would not give him the pleasure.
Something bowled into Roderick, knocking him sideways, and I rolled onto my back to see Bosun squawking and beating his wings about Roderick’s head as the man tried to protect his face from the enraged bird’s sharp beak and talons. His trousers were around his knees, and he tripped over them, falling into a heap in the sand. Bosun fluttered backward a few paces, just as a dark form materialized in the shadows. Bosun alighted upon it, and my heart skipped a painful beat in my chest as I recognized Ambrose coming from the darkness, unfettered and looking for all the world like a reaper of souls. He had a cutlass in his hand, and it gleamed silver under the moonlight, except where it was blackened with fresh, dripping blood.
Roderick backpedaled in fear, groping for his sword, but he had not thought to grab it when he had taken me outside, and his knife was tangled somewhere in the fabric around his ankles now. Ambrose stepped into the moonlight, the glow catching his shirtsleeves like a guardian angel. He glanced over at me, as if to be sure I was all right, before he strode over to Roderick, who was scrambling back across the ground, fighting his trousers and the slick sand to try to get to his feet and away. But Ambrose merely stepped up to him, gazing down at him like he was no more than an insect. He planted his booted foot between Roderick’s legs, pinning him in place, making Roderick stiffen in pain. And then Ambrose’s blade sank into Roderick’s gut, so hard that it passed through his body almost to the hilt. Roderick let out a keening sound that made me shiver. Ambrose twisted the blade, eliciting a strangled howl from Roderick, and then jerked his arm up and back, taking the blade with it. I was thankful for the shadows of the night as Roderick’s innards spilled over the sand, the man’s wail of agony echoing off the trees.
Ambrose turned away from him and moved to me, pulling me upright before making short work of the rope that bound my wrists. And then Ambrose leaned in and pressed a light, chaste kiss to my forehead before wrapping his arm around me protectively, leading me away from the sniveling man on the ground. Roderick’s groans faded behind us, and I could bring no pity to my heart for him.
Inside the tent were the remains of chaos. Besides Humbolt, there were three other men lying dead or dying upon the ground, but my heart leaped when I saw that the single remaining figure who was standing was none other than Silas. He had a dagger gripped in his hand, fire in his dark eyes. He was sporting a vicious cut across one arm, and his clothes were streaked with dirt, as if he had been rolling in it. From the state of the men by his foot, he probably had.
I dashed to Silas and threw my arms around him in a tight hug, and he caught me with an unexpected gasp of relief, dropping the dagger and pressing his three-fingered hand to the back of my head. “Jamie,” he said in his rumbly voice against my ear. “Are yeh hurt, lad?”
“No,” I said, pulling back to examine him as best I could. “Are you?”
“Jes’ a scratch,” he said, motioning to his arm. “It’ll heal quick’n on the ship.”
I nodded, then turned to Ambrose standing off to the side. I could see now in the lamplight that he also had blood splattered across his fine clothes, and I realized that he must have cut his way through the pirates to get outside to Roderick. I took a few steps toward him, holding out my hand to him. “Thank you, Captain,” I said softly.
He took my hand with that smile I had grown to treasure, giving it a squeeze. “I am just glad you’re safe,” he said.
