Swimming deeper, she hovered over the spot where the main deck would be, now covered by coral and time, and carefully brushed away centuries of silt.And there it was again.The Ring.
It glistened unnaturally beneath the water, as if untouched by time.Heart pounding, Desi reached for it.
The moment her fingertips grazed the golden band, a flash of blinding white engulfed her.The sea rippled, expanding, contracting, pushing, pulling.Gripping the Ring tight, she started for the surface.
And then—
Wind roared in her ears.Salty spray slapped her face.The sharp crack of cannon fire split the air.
She stumbled, drenched and gasping, onto solid wood.The deck of a living, breathing ship.
Sails billowed overhead against a storm-gray sky.Crewmen shouted orders as the ship pitched beneath her feet.Cannon smoke drifted across the deck like spectral hands.
She tore out her regulator and gasped, then coughed as her lungs filled with smoke.
Men dashed about in a frenzy, some leaping into the shrouds, others shouting obscenities and raising their fists at something across the water.Desi clung to the railing and followed their gazes to a Spanish galleon looming off the starboard side, its black and gold hull cutting a fierce silhouette against the horizon.
A stream of fire burst from its hull.Aboomthundered across the turbulent sea.
What was happening?Desi barely had time to find her footing before a cannonball slammed into the bulwarks, splintering wood and firing knife-like shards in all directions.
Two men dropped to the deck, screaming in agony.
“Starboard guns, ready!”a deep voice shouted—one she recognized even above the chaos.
He was there, coat billowing like a flag in the wind, eyes flashing across the deck.They locked onto hers, wide with both disbelief and recognition.
“You!”he bellowed, striding toward her through the smoke.
She opened her mouth to speak, but words vanished in the deafening crack of another broadside.
“All hands down!”he barked.
Desi stared at the oncoming shots.This can’t be happening!I’m not here!
The man threw his body on top of hers as the ship trembled beneath two more blows.Screams blared.Shouts ricocheted.But all Desi could feel was the strength of the one who sheltered her from harm.His chest heaved, his breath showering her, and his scent of salted leather and smoke flooding her nose.
Then he was gone.
“Get her below!”he ordered one of his crew as he marched off.“Rourke, Haines, take the injured to Brandt.”His intense gaze traveled from their enemy, then to the churning sea, and finally to the gray sky above.
“Well, burn and sink me, ne’er saw the likes o’ that!”one sailor shouted.
“Indeed.”The captain glanced back at her before issuing further orders.“Alden, raise all canvas to the wind!Prepare to tack.Shorty, three points to larboard.”
“Are we runnin’ away like yellow bellies, Cap’n?”one man complained.
“To fight another day.A better day.”Wind gusted over them, whipping away some of the smoke and flapping the captain’s coat.“Keg, fire stern guns when ready.Let’s give them our best farewell!”
Two sailors scrambled toward her and grabbed her arms.Struggling, she tried to free herself, but it was no use as they dragged her across the deck toward a hatch.
The ship heeled hard to port as another volley roared overhead.Smoke, fire, salt, and steel surrounded her.
And all Desi could think was:
This is no dream.
The Sentinel, Caribbean, 1718
