I look back at the house. A sailor hangs out a front window, a bottle in one hand, as he sings as loudly as he possibly can. Anne is still telling her story inside, and a few more pirates spill out onto the porch with bottles in their hands.
There’s no way I can make it now. Shit.
I scurry back beneath the bushes and look around again. If I go slowly and stay low, I can get back to the side of the house and try to make it to the beach from the backside. The way doesn’t have much cover, but hopefully no one will be looking.
Struggling through the sandy undergrowth, I crawl along until I get out of sight from the porch. Then I stand and limp to the back of the house. Once I check to make sure it’s clear, I take off across the sandy expanse and head for the trees.
When I make it and lean against a trunk, the sea ahead of me and the house behind, I let out a breath of relief and listen to see if anyone sounds the alarm.
I wait a while, but no one comes, no bell rings—nothing happens. I’m in the clear.
The moon shines down on me as I go from tree to tree, crabs skittering away into the surf where seashells gleam.
The pier is ahead, Sally still keeping watch. I sneak up to it, the house loud with singing and yelling. At least no one’s shooting anymore.
There are several boats pulled up on the other side of the pier. I’ll have my pick. The water draws my eye, and I stare at it. The waves seem relatively calm, but the black water gives me some flashbacks that make me have to take a deep, shuddering breath. I catch the scent of smoke, probably from a cigar. The pirates are in full party mode. This won’t be easy, especially in my weakened state, but I have to escape. Facing Hook isn’t going to end with me still breathing. At least this way, I have a chance.
I keep close to the pier and try to see if there’s a way underneath it without getting into the water. There isn’t, and I can’t bring myself to swim for it.
I creep back to the trees and wind my way through them to the other side of the pier. Once I’m back at the surf, I choose the boat closest to me. It seems sturdy, especially when I try to push it into the water and it doesn’t budge.
“Shit.” I grit my teeth and push again, my leg burning from the effort.
“There she is.” A surprised voice. “No wonder she wasn’t in her room. Fuck me at our luck. Grab her!”
I spin and see two pirates coming at me, one of them carrying a burlap sack.
“No!” I run, but the only direction open is toward the sea. When my feet hit the water, I freeze, fear rooting me to the spot.
Rough hands grab me, and I scream as the sack comes down over my head. It smells of fish and grease, and I thrash as a pirate picks me up and throws me into a boat. I yelp with pain as I land hard against the unforgiving lumber, and then the boat rocks more.
“Shut up or we’ll shut you up.” One of them kicks me, not hard enough to hurt, but he gets his point across. “Go and fetch the captain. He’ll want to get on back to the Ranger.”
“I’ll get him. Keep her quiet.”
“My pleasure.” A rough laugh, and then I feel a weight settle on my side. No, not a weight, it’s a boot.
I try to roll away from it, but the pressure only increases. The bag grows more claustrophobic, and I inch my hands up to my face to push the fabric away from it.
“Don’t bother. You aren’t going anywhere.” The pirate rocks the boat a little, then I hear aglug-glugnoise. “Want some?”
Something drips onto the burlap, wetting it and my face. Bitter alcohol, the scent of it stinging my nose. I cough and try to roll to my side, but his boot presses down harder, forcing me onto my back.
“A little more?” He pours it right over my face, the caustic liquid going up my nose as I turn my head and keep my eyes shut tight.
“Cock, what are you doing?” The boat rocks violently as the pirate stops waterboarding me with alcohol and I try to breathe.
“Just wetting her whistle for you, Captain,” the pirate mumbles.
“Row. Fast.” Someone grabs the bottom of the sack and starts yanking it up. “No, Balls, you row. You’re stronger.”
“Aye, Captain.” The boat shifts again, and then I hear theshick shickof oars in the water.
When the burlap is lifted from my face, I use the sleeve of my nightdress to wipe the liquor off my face. Looking up, I only see the brim of a giant black hat with the moon high behind it.
“Puny, ain’t she?” one of the pirates says. “Not worth the trouble.”
The hat moves, and I hear the sound of a hand hitting flesh. “When I want your opinion, I’ll give it to you, Cock.”
