She switched to silliness. “Wagga wagga bing bong?”
“No!” The child giggled into her hair, then enunciated his name in two parts. “AD-LI.”
“Ohhh,Adli. What a lovely name.”
By this time, the crew had rigged up a stretcher for Adli’s father and were gingerly moving him elsewhere. His mother hovered in the background at first, clearly torn between following her injured husband and snatching her eldest from the arms of a stranger.
Wendy tried to alleviate some of the worry. “Do you like stories, Adli? My little brothers love stories, so I know quite a few.”
“Story?” The timid voice of interest was accompanied by a glimpse of his face.
Wendy, who had been scanning the deck for a suitable spot to settle in for story time, nodded. Guessing that her audience hailed from Sharamil, she said, “How about the Pied Piper? Do you know that one?”
An odd gurgle came from his mother, but when Wendy glanced over, the woman seemed to be hiding a smile.
“Let’s sit here on this crate,” Wendy said. She plopped the boy on a box that was hemmed in on two sides by taller containers and positioned herself to prevent falling or escaping. A convenient lantern provided a warm glow. Phillip dropped to the deck nearby, crossing his legs and settling in to listen.
Adli’s mother stayed for “Once upon a time,” then hurried in the direction the crew had disappeared with her husband.
Three stories, seven nursery rhymes, and a passingly melodic attempt at a lullaby later, Wendy looked away from her increasingly sleepy charge—who wore more cookie than he had consumed—to gauge the approaching dawn. At some point, her audience had grown to include Davi, Tam, and the blond man with a baby face who had helped row the rescue boat, in addition to Phillip, who she now recognized as the lookout.
Her surprise at so many young people on the crew hardened into cynicism as the night transitioned to early morning. Naturally, a scum bucket like Hook would want a young crew; they would be easier to indoctrinate in the ways of piracy. His recent heroic actions didn’t fit nicely with the strictly evil pirate profile she had built in her mind, but she ignored that as she tried to ignore the emptiness of her belly. Regular meals were something she hadn’t appreciated fully until she left home.
And if she hadn't left home, the boys wouldn't be in danger. Adli let out a soft snore, and Wendy let whatever nonsensical thing she had been murmuring fade to nothing. A cup appeared in front of her bleary eyes.
“Oh! Thank you,” she said to the blond crew member, who had soaked in her stories.
He waited until she took a sip of the water, then nodded and walked away. As the cool liquid soothed her dry throat, Wendy realized the rest of her audience had stopped listening at some point. Davi and Phillip were sleeping, the younger leaning against a barrel and the teen curled up at her feet. Tam was nowhere to be seen.
She set the cup on the crate and rested her head against the container at her back, closing her eyes.
“If you can carry Adli for me, I will take him off your hands.”
Wendy opened her eyes to see the young mother. Strain twisted the woman’s smile, but Wendy thought exhaustion played a bigger role than worry. “How is your husband?”
“He woke soon after they transferred him to the sick bay.” The babe in her arms made a sleepy gurgle.
“Is he there now?” Wendy asked as she wiggle-worked her way off the crate with Adli in her arms.
“No, the captain placed us in his quarters.”
Wendy raised both eyebrows at this, but the woman had already turned to lead the way. The growing dawn helped her cross the deck with the sturdy toddler in hand. Much as she wanted to snoop around Hook’s quarters, which were tidier and more spacious than she would have expected, Wendy merely helped situate the children with their parents, then hastened to her own accommodations.
Back in her cell, Wendy paced. Concern for her brothers occupied most of her thoughts, but increasingly irritated complaints about Hook played a part, as well.
“If John accidentally gives himself away, will Peter kill Michael, too, just in case?” Wendy scrubbed at her face with both hands.
“John is the best secret-keeper; it’ll be fine.” She twirled to pace the other direction.
“If that dumb pirate wasn’t so busy saving people from fires, I could be talking with the naval police by now.” Restless fingers plucked at her borrowed gown.
“John wouldn’t say anything to Michael, right?” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “He knows better than that.
“Uhh!” Wendy threw her hands in the air, then flopped onto the bed. “It smells like fish in here. Stupid pirate.”
Eventually, she fell into a fitful doze. The early afternoon sun hitting her face woke her up. Or maybe it was the heft of the deceptively small cat loafed on her chest. As soon as they made eye contact, the cat jumped down. The loss of the weight was both a relief and a disappointment. Wendy wished she could have feigned sleep a little longer to enjoy the comforting pressure.
Feeling only slightly better after her nap—and of a mind to share her vexation with others—she stomped abovedeck to find a target for her ire. The sun hurt her eyes, and the breeze tangledher hair. Everyone went about their work as if they didn’t care that she was in a mood.
