ESCAPE TO PIRATE ISLAND

A LESBIAN ADVENTURE ROMANCE

BY

NIAMH MURPHY

COPYRIGHT

Niamh Murphy

ESCAPE TO PIRATE ISLAND

© 2017, NIM Publishing

(Niamh.m88@gmail.com)

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Any unauthorised reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, or transmitted by email without permission in writing from the author.

All characters within this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Produced in the United Kingdom for NIM Publishing

First Published 2017

ISBN: 9781521191354

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For Louise …

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to take the opportunity to acknowledge all my dedicated readers on the Wattpad app.

I would like to say how much I appreciate all their support, feedback, and their wonderful and funny comments throughout all my stories. I want to thank each, and every one of them for the time they take to let me know how much they love a story or a character and the way they pick out individual lines and tell me it made them laugh or gasp or drop their biscuit in their tea!

Every comment means so much and every time someone tells me they like my writing, it makes it all worthwhile.

Thank you. All of you. You make me feel like a writer.

I would also like to thank Maia Sepp for all her hard work and feedback in helping me to get the manuscript into shape – I couldn’t have done it without you.

And finally, I would like to thank Carl Denham (@LLCoolMage) for producing my wonderful treasure map. Thank you.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

PRONUNCIATION

PART I: ESCAPE

Chapter One At Smuggler’s Point

Chapter Two An Unfortunate Inheritance

Chapter Three The Swan

Chapter Four An Unexpected Guest

Chapter Five The Hideout

Chapter Six The Reading of the Will

Chapter Seven Queen of Diamonds

Chapter Eight  A Dark Duty

Chapter Nine A Sudden Departure

Chapter Ten The Overnight Crossing

Chapter Eleven Sea Captain

Chapter Twelve The Waterfront

Chapter Thirteen Wanted

Chapter Fourteen Jack Strong

Chapter Fifteen Quartermaster

Chapter Sixteen The Sailors’ Adieu

Chapter Seventeen Green About The Gills

PART II: THE SEA NYMPH

Chapter Eighteen A Sea Farers’ Life

Chapter Nineteen The Carpenter’s Task

Chapter Twenty A Turn About the Deck

Chapter Twenty-One Bad Usage

Chapter Twenty-Two The Captain’s Table

Chapter Twenty-Three Overboard

Chapter Twenty-Four Unmasked

Chapter Twenty-Five Insubordination

Chapter Twenty-Six Cat O’ Nine Tails

PART III: UNDER A BLACK FLAG

Chapter Twenty-Seven MUTINY!

Chapter Twenty-Eight No Quarter!

Chapter Twenty-Nine A Pirating

Chapter Thirty A Mutual Confinement

Chapter Thirty-One To the Aid of a Friend

Chapter Thirty-Two Treasure Map

Chapter Thirty-Three A False Promise

Chapter Thirty-Four Articles of Agreement

Chapter Thirty-Five A Loyal Second

Chapter Thirty-Six Sandbar

PART IV: MAROONED

Chapter Thirty-Seven Castaways

Chapter Thirty-Eight Tempest

Chapter Thirty-Nine Those in Peril on the Sea

Chapter Forty The Cave

Chapter Forty-One The Island

Chapter Forty-Two Campfire

Chapter Forty-Three Lightning

Chapter Forty-Four Shelter in a Storm

PART V: THE HERAKLES

Chapter Forty-Five Rescued

Chapter Forty-Six Mrs Meadows

Chapter Forty-Seven Clapped in Irons

Chapter Forty-Eight In the Hold

Chapter Forty-Nine Swallowed by the Sea

Chapter Fifty The Boldest Bandit in the Bay

Chapter Fifty-One Losing Heart

Chapter Fifty-Two A Desperate Plan

Chapter Fifty-Three Fresh Mutiny

PART VI: PIRATE ISLAND

Chapter Fifty-Four Pirate Trial

Chapter Fifty-Five Ships’ Landing

Chapter Fifty-Six Tea for Two

Chapter Fifty-Seven Sea Cave

Chapter Fifty-Eight Treasure Hunt

Chapter Fifty-Nine Bejewelled

Chapter Sixty Confrontation

Chapter Sixty-One A New Plan

Chapter Sixty-Two Piece of Eight

Chapter Sixty-Three Cat O’ Nine Lives

Chapter Sixty-Four Adrift

Chapter Sixty-Five Sea-Battle

Chapter Sixty-Six No Mercy

Chapter Sixty-Seven Hidden Treasure

Chapter Sixty-Eight And So…

ALSO BY THE AUTHOR

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

INTRODUCTION

Escape to Pirate Island is a book which has been with me for many years. I won’t spoil the story for you, but it all started in one of those half-dreaming times in the early hours of the morning. The very first scene that came to me was the sea cave scene, which ended up as far into the book as chapter fifty-seven.

I knew in that moment, that Cat Meadows was fiercely independent, strong-willed, adventurous, and, most of all, she was cunning. When I traced her journey all the way back to what became the opening scene of the novel, I did wonder if I had two stories and not one. I wondered if I had a smuggler novel, that involved chases across cliff tops in Cornwall, and a pirate novel, with treasure hunting, sudden betrayals, and great reversals of fortune.

But then I met Lily.

Lily and Cat could have had a story each. One involving a chase toward treasure, the other involving an escape from the law… but these two women were meant to be part of the same book and I simply could not separate them.

But in order to bring them together, I had to take the rule book and smash it to pieces. Their journey does not follow an expected path and the pair certainly do not meet in chapter one! It is my dearest hope that you will agree the rule-breaking was worth it, and that you will fall in love with these two just as much as I have.

Fortune favours the bold.

Enjoy!

PRONUNCIATION

Exquemelin - Ess-Kwem-Ellin

Boatswain - Bo’sun

Forecastle - Foaksul

The year is 1720…

King George I is on the throne of England. Colonial America is still under British, French, and Spanish rule. The wars of succession for the Spanish crown have created bitter enemies and hundreds of listless, plunder seeking, veterans.

The Golden Age of Piracy is booming.

And the lives of two young women are about to be changed, forever…

PART I: ESCAPE

Chapter One
At Smuggler’s Point

Cat Meadows didn't have a chance to shout before the gunshots blasted the air.

She watched as Luke Tyler was thrown backward into the sea. The world slowed as he stared at Cat. He reached out to her. He trusted her with his life. He thought of her as his fearless leader. He expected her to save him.

Then he was gone. Beneath a mist of red stained sea as his body sank under the waves.

Cat choked back the fear as a shot seared past her head. Gunfire echoed around Cadogan Bay, and mingled with the shouts and screams of her friends. She ducked into the cool water, making herself the smallest possible target as she looked out at the chaos.

A thin line of Revenue Men had come out of hiding to surround Cat and her gang. She recognised them from their uniforms; royal-blue coats, yellow vests, white trousers, and black hats. They marched forward armed with muskets. They were the officials sent to catch pirates in the nefarious act of landing illegal cargo; their duty was to kill them where they stood or take them for hanging.

Cat's crew wouldn't get past them without facing either a bullet or a noose. She could see three of her men on the beach. One of her horses had fallen, the other was rearing up and pulling at the reins of the cart loaded with kegs of illegal rum. Tommy Meadows, his height acting against his favour, had ducked behind the cart with Fletcher Greaves who was crouched low and only recognisable by his long black coat and tricorn hat. Their rudimentary barricade could only protect them for so long but Old Smithy, his foot bloody and twisted, was desperately crawling across the sand toward them, screaming for their aid. Young Joe was nowhere to be seen.

There was a sudden deep roar behind her.

Cat turned to see John Strong, her closest friend and a great giant of a man who she'd seen lift barrels still brimming with beer above his head, pulled underwater as the Dutch boat eased past him. They were trying to make their escape as a fresh hail of musket balls rained down.

Without a second thought, Cat dived.

The cold, dark water blinded her and she pushed off hard against the sand toward where she'd seen John disappear. The water wasn't deep nor was the tide strong but the ocean was lethal nonetheless.

She caught a thrashing hand and quickly grabbed the rest of John's arm to pull him to the surface but he was stuck fast. Confused for a moment, Cat realised he was trapped. Cat pulled herself down to his flailing feet. Searching in the dark, she quickly untangled his ankles from the ropes trailing from the escaping boat and they both broke the surface panting and spitting.

Cat didn't look back at the beach and instead swam out to sea. The shouting and gunfire told her all she needed to know. She didn't want to witness another of her gang fall at the feet of this relentless posse.

John was struggling to keep his bearded head above water and his limbs splashed around wildly.

"Come on, Man," she shouted, "swim!" But she may as well ask him to fly. His panicked eyes begged her for help as he gurgled, spat, and his head bobbed below the waves.

"Onto your back, Man!" Cat grabbed him around the neck and swam hard toward the cusp of the bay. She prayed the Revenue Men didn't know about the cliff path, few people did.

Cat fought against the water. Her already aching muscles were quick to weaken further at the strain of swimming with one arm as she pulled along a man twice her size. The waves jostled her as she fought to keep on a heading toward the smooth, flat, rocky outcrop further along the bay.

The rocks would be scattered with pools of saltwater, places where shrimp and seaweed had collected at the high tide but were now exposed. It was a place she'd clambered to as a child and spent many a warm afternoon playing happily. But now, as her body weakened and the sea gained strength, Cat struggled to fight the undercurrent and it threatened to drive her toward the sharp-edged boulders that lay directly below the cliff-face.

The swell pulled her up and inwards to the beach, back toward the muskets and further from the safe landing. For every stroke forward, the tide seemed to pull her back three.

She panicked.

Gasping for air, Cat realised she'd never reach those rocks.

She knew she'd be pulled under the swell and John would be nothing but a dead weight to her as they were smashed against the boulders. She knew she was about to die. The sun was stretching over the horizon on what promised to be a glorious spring morning yet she would drown here and her body would wash up on the sands of her beloved Cadogan Bay.

But the very inevitability of her predicament steadied her resolve.

Cat fired her determination and decided that she would not be pulled under, she would not accept her fate, and she would fight to rule her own damned destiny.

With a final rush of energy pulled from the deepest pit of her reserves, Cat surged forward just as a wave caught her, lifting her and John up and tossing their bodies, like rag-dolls, against the great jagged rocks at the cliff base.

She coughed in pain and surprise as she clung to the barnacles and cracks of the razor-sharp fragment of fallen cliff. To her great relief, John was at her side, clinging with first one hand and then the other, heaving himself up onto the rough boulder.

Cat's arms, weak and tired from the swim, struggled to hold her weight. As a second wave crashed over her she didn't have the strength left to hold on and was torn from her landing.

But the sea had not won.

The great, firm hand of John Strong grabbed hold of the cloth of her dress and, as the swell pulled her back, he held on tight and determined. Cat grabbed his arm. She was just inches from the solid ground but had to fight with every ounce of her spirit to prevent her body being swept away. Then, as a wave crashed forward, she was carried up and onto the rock, smashing hard against the surface.

Grasping onto the rough barnacles and jagged edges she found beneath her hands, Cat managed to cling against the cold, wet, and unforgiving rock. She spluttered and coughed trying to catch her breath. The water stung her eyes, she tasted blood and salt on her tongue, and there was an awkward trickle of water at the back of her throat that she tried in vain to swallow or cough away.

Cat's body was numb with cold. John began to traverse the uneven boulders, edging his way toward the safe landing and she followed his lead with difficulty. Another wave crashed against them but didn't have the height or strength to pull either of them from their perches and they could continue their careful escape.

It was only a few feet to safety but every inch forward seemed to take an eternity. The sun was clear of the horizon by the time the two smugglers finally crawled, bloody, soaked, and exhausted, onto the smooth, seaweed strewn, undulating surface of black rock. It was a natural pier jutting several hundred yards out to sea.

John took a deep, long breath. Cat noticed his hands and feet were bleeding and began to inspect her own wounds. Jagged cuts littered her hands and arms stinging from the salt and, without the sea to wash it away, blood was beginning to trickle across her skin. Her jaw was starting to throb and Cat realised that her face was likely to be in a worse state than her limbs.

Clawing their way up the old cliff path was always going to be hard but with their limbs torn to shreds, Cat thought it may just be impossible. At least she still had her boots but poor old John’s feet were bare.

From their refuge, the curve of the cliff surrounding the bay masked their view of the beach and the crashing of the waves muffled any sounds of shouting or gunfire. But they could be sure that the Revenue Men would still be there perhaps even attempting a chase.

The pair exchanged a glance. Nothing needed to be said; they could see the grim determination in one another's eyes.

It was Cat who made the first move. Unsteadily, she heaved herself onto her feet and did her best to wring the water from her clothes, staining them with blood in the process. She stood, hands on hips, assessing the climb.

There was a well-worn track, like a zigzagging scar, carved into the cliff-face by a thousand footsteps but it was narrow with many a sheer drop along the way. Cat hadn't attempted the climb since she was a child and, looking at it now, she thought she must have been possessed by a kind of madness to have attempted it then.

She called out to John, "We could hide out here, just until they've left?"

"Aye," he called back, nodding as he surveyed the task before them, "but the tide be on the turn, Lass. We've mayn't 'ave an hour."

They had the choice of the sea, the noose, or the cliff.

She chose the cliff.

The first few feet of the path were easy enough but it narrowed as it rose and she left a trail of wet, bloodied handprints where she reached out for support. The grazes on her palms and fingers quickly filled with grit and, as irritating as this was, she was certain it was nothing to the suffering of poor John's feet.

She moved at a steady half crawl, half climb. The wind whipped at her skirts and her damp hair kept lashing across her face, occasionally blinding her. Stones and pebbles dislodged beneath her feet and she found she had to slide along rather than walk to ensure a sturdy foothold. She looked down to John, still there, like a great, old goat; slow, steady and determined. Below him was the black, shining rock, its pools glittering in the sun. One slip and that would be her final resting place.

Cat steadied herself, her stomach swirled at the thought of the sudden freefalling plummet and then... she grabbed at the cliff, pressing her belly against it, closing her eyes, and trying to convince herself that she was on safe ground. But the wind at her back and the solid rock against her chest made her feel as if the world was on a sickening, tilted axis, and any moment it would tip too far and—

"Ye well, Cat?" called John from below.

She managed a nod but realised he would not have been able to see such a small gesture. She wanted to call back to him but her voice wouldn't come. Instead, she took a step onward and forced her body along the barely-there trail inch by painful inch.

If she focused her whole mind on each tiny movement; on moving her hand forward along the rock, grabbing the next handhold, sliding her foot along the smooth dirt of the narrow track and shifting her body weight sideward, slowly, carefully... then she wouldn't have the space in her mind to think about what was below or about what may be waiting for them above. If she focused on clawing her way along, Cat could push away thoughts of twisted bodies lying bloodied on the beach and of Luke's face disappearing into a mist of his own sea-tainted blood.

After what seemed like hours of painstaking climbing, she reached up and rather than bare rock she felt tufts of wiry, sand-grass that told her the summit was within her grasp. With wild relief, she looked up at the grassy fringe of the cliff top just yards away. Cat could have cried. She wished she could leap those final feet just as the sheep that frequented this path would do in summer but instead she took a deep breath, suppressing the joy that threatened to overwhelm her and edged onward.

Suddenly the fear of what, or whom, may be waiting for her at the top struck her. The image of another line of Revenue Men standing in readiness, with muskets poised stalled her for a moment. But Cat couldn’t bear to look down and couldn’t bear the thought of clinging any longer to the infernal rock. So, knowing she could be damned either way, Cat heaved herself up.

Her body strained almost beyond its limit, Cat reached up to the tufts of grassy fringe and felt around for a solid handhold to pull her body up. Grabbing a great handful of the dry grass and hoping the roots and earth would hold, Cat scrambled the last few inches managing to get her arm over the top and, with the help of a tentative foothold, she eased her head over the natural parapet glancing around for any sign of the posse.

There was no one.

The sun was long above the horizon and the promise of a warm, cloudless day was basking the coast in bright sunshine. The crash of sea against rocks was far below and the gentle breeze was filled with the familiar cawing of gulls.

Wherever the Revenue Men were, it wasn't here.

Cat heaved her torso over the top and rolled onto the grass, panting with exhaustion. She felt her limbs would never work for her again but a call from below reminded her of one more task. Belly to the earth, Cat leant over the edge and stretched down to John, supplying him with a firm handhold to beat those last few feet to the top.

Finally, the smugglers lay desperate and exhausted in the soft summer sun.

"You well?" John asked, through heavy panting.

"A few scratches, nothing more," she knew his question went further but for now she was only willing to assess her wellness skin deep, "and you?"

"Bruises, cuts, nothin' broke," he replied, matching her matter-of-fact tone.

Cat wanted to stay hidden, safe, and untroubled, and wait until the threat had passed. But she knew the posse was not going to simply pass through the village like a night shadow. Luke was dead. Most likely her men on the beach, Tommy, Fletcher, and poor, wounded, Old Smithy, were dead too. She hadn't even seen what became of her last man, Joe, she realised he must be lost too. As would be the Dutch sailors who'd delivered the rum. If they hadn't drowned or been shot already, then they certainly would be caught for the noose.

There was nothing more she could do for any of them. But her Inn, her home, and her village may yet be untouched. There was still a chance she could warn them and get people to safety.

"We have to get to The Swan," Cat said urgently.

Suddenly John reached forward and grabbed her hand. He looked at her and squeezed. His hand was cold, bloodied, and bruised but his gesture was warm. She looked at his gentle eyes, dark and kind, piercing through the rugged, sea-dog features, greying, badger-like beard, and tough, leathery skin. John Strong was as rough, hard, and weather-beaten as the cliff they had just climbed but his gentle soul was betrayed by those eyes.

The small gesture said so much more than his words ever could and Cat had to choke back the tears that threatened to swell up at this simple sign of sympathy.

It was then that they both knew, Cat Meadows had just lost everything.

Chapter Two
An Unfortunate Inheritance

Lily Exquemelin stood at the window.

She watched the bailiffs, in their tatty long-coats, struggle with her father’s belongings; a great sea-chest, his desk, his bed, bureaus, bookcases, and side tables. Her father’s life was being taken away from her piece by piece.

She was fully aware the men could see her watching and she cared very little.

One man, shorter, plumper, and far better dressed than the others, hurried from here to there shouting and gesticulating wildly as the men he attempted to control paid little heed to his bleating. Lily couldn’t hear a word he said but from his manner alone she could imagine his bombastic flustering; ‘don’t scratch it!’, ‘don’t jostle it!’, ‘whatever you do, do not drop it!’

She sighed.

Each new day seemed to bring a new merchant to take her deceased father’s belongings off to auction. First his most prized and precious possessions; his silverware, his gifts of state, his paintings, sculptures, musical instruments, books, and stuffed animals from around the globe. It seemed to Lily that there was a market for anything and everything.

It was as if Captain Lewen Exquemelin’s entire existence was being devoured. Yet still, the hole that he’d left in his finances was begging to be filled.

There were hardly any furnishings left in the house and what there was, was worth very little. Lily knew with cold certainty that the house would be next.

“Well, it’s good weather for it, Miss, so that’s one good thing!” Rita, a plump, eager, and slightly cross-eyed domestic servant of no more than fifteen, enthusiastically dusted the empty shelves.

Lily smiled at Rita’s observation. “Yes, it is good weather,” she conceded, finally turning from the window. “Have you managed to arrange your next appointment?”

“Oh yes, Ma’am,” Rita said, curtseying a little as she dusted the mantelpiece. Lily noticed that her cap was slightly askew but said nothing; she didn’t want to embarrass the girl but she also felt it somehow suited the young woman’s haphazard personality.

“A Mr and Mrs Rotherham, newly-wed and moving into Chester Street this Thursday, miss.”

“Well, that’s jolly good, I’m glad to hear it.”

“All thanks to your reference, Miss, glowing it was and you having known me only the sixth month! Very good of you it was to take the time, Miss, knowing how you was with all these… goings on.”

Lily assumed that ‘all these goings on’ was the death of her father and the liquidation of his estate. She wanted to explain to Rita that ‘having one’s money taken away takes up surprisingly little of one’s time but instead she decided to simply say, “You’re very welcome, Rita.”

“And where will you be off to now yourself, Miss?”

Lily considered. There were many options open to a young woman of her position. She could become a Lady’s maid; a companion to an honourable woman, no doubt an old and rather tiresome woman who talked of nothing other than; ‘oh, could you be a dear and pass me the comb,’ or ‘could you be a darling and fetch me some wine,’ which, although a comfortable appointment, would likely send her quite mad with its banality. She could become a governess. Thankfully she was well educated enough to impress the mother of even the most precocious of daughters and she could while away her afternoons teaching a little of her little Latin to a disinterested child whose only likely use for her smattering of Latin would be to teach it to an equally disinterested child should she, in the future, also find herself becoming a governess.

Lily could throw herself on the mercy of her relatives. There was an aunt somewhere and a few cousins; they might be able and willing to take her in… if she could remember where they lived. She could even get married; she’d had her share of proposals over the last few years and mused whether any of them would still stand now that she was utterly destitute. She almost giggled to herself at the thought of simply appearing on the young, impeccably dressed and fearsomely proper, Mr Heath’s doorstep and simply saying ‘oh, go on then!’

“I haven’t settled on plan… just yet,” she said with a smile that was meant to insinuate she had a great many ideas and offers, each one far more exciting than the last and before Rita could ask her any further questions Lily dismissed her and shut the curtains.

Watching one’s possessions being loaded unceremoniously onto the back of a cart was not the entertainment she had been looking for today but then neither was the realisation that Lily Exquemelin had just lost everything.

Chapter Three
The Swan

John was first to make a move. Keeping low, he crawled toward the dry-stone wall that ran along the track to the village. Cat was close on his heels, her clothes sodden, cold, and heavier with each passing moment. They left a trail of wet footprints on the dusty, mud track and Cat hoped the sun would dry them before any Revenue Men thought to look this far along the cliff.

The village was silent. The only folk awake at this hour were those who worked outside the law and those who tried to catch them.

They didn’t talk as they made their way to The Swan. There was only the sound of their soft footsteps. They both knew they needed to keep their journey as silent as possible as it would take just one set of eyes, one shout of ‘who goes there?’ or one cheery, morning greeting from a well-intentioned local to bring the whole of his majesty’s revenue and customs running in their direction.

Cat’s stomach tightened as she made out the familiar outline of The Swan in the early morning shadows. She’d known that old Inn her whole life, but only this last year had it been where she called home. She could only pray that no one was laying in wait along the road for the chance of a good shot or, even worse, that they were already inside.

Cat and John reached the small wooden door reserved for tradesmen and smugglers. She hoped that by using the side entrance they might avoid the ambush that could be waiting for them. Cat rummaged in her skirts for her key, which was fastened tightly to a string hanging from her belt; she then slipped it into the lock as silently as she could manage.

She glanced at John whose face was pale but impassive. He knew as well as she did of the possibility of capture and shared her dread of what lay beyond.

With a soft clunking of metal, she turned the key. Cat had barely ever paid heed to the noise before but now the lock sounded as though it were all the gates of hell crashing open and echoing against every surface for twenty miles.

The hinges creaked painfully as she eased the door open and she took a deep breath before edging into the darkness of her home.

Cat froze.

There were voices, raised but muffled.

She exchanged a glance with John who nodded for her to go on. As carefully and quietly as she could manage she crept along the stone floor of the corridor before peering around the wall at the end of the hall.

“Michael!”

She couldn’t help but call his name as she rushed forward at the sight of her husband, safe and well, seated by the empty hearth.

“Catherine!” Michael’s face turned instantly from bleak desperation to joy.

He hadn’t shaved, his dark, tousled hair was long enough to be unruly yet short enough to be unfashionable, he wore only his shirt, boots, and breeches, his stick, as ever, was by his side and acted as the only outward sign of his injury. That damnable carthorse from the brewery had kicked him when he’d gone to inspect a wound on the animal’s ankle. It smashed his thigh bone and he hadn’t walked more than ten paces since. He had the pallor and slight weight of a man that hadn’t been able to walk for months and it made him look like a weak old man, not a vibrant youth of twenty.

He held his arms out and Cat grabbed him in a hug, not caring that she soaked him with her wet and bloodied clothes, just relieved that he was still there, still breathing.

“How’d yer getaway?!”

It was only at the sound of Tommy’s voice that Cat realised Michael wasn’t alone. Just moments before, she would have sworn on the bible that her young brother-in-law had been lost on the beach, so dangerous had been his position when last she saw him; crouched behind the cart with Fletcher Greaves. Relief swelled in her stomach and she wanted to rush forward to hug him but the note of accusation in his tone made her falter.

“The cliff path,” she said, suddenly out of breath with relief, and realising what a frightful mess she must look. “What about you?” Tommy was bloodied and muddied, his light brown hair darkened with dirt and wildly unkempt, a bruise was starting to spread across his cheek, he’d lost his light jacket, and his breeches and shirt were ripped in places with various patches of mud and blood. He looked like he’d been through Hell and Cat wondered if he had fared worse than her, “last time I saw you, you were between the sea and the line of fire!”

“Luck,” said Fletcher, emerging from the shadows. He was pale, almost sickly, his usually smart clothes were ruffled and torn, his hair, usually neat and tied at the nape of his neck, hung loose with strands across his face, and he was leaning against a bench to hold himself steady. He was the fixer, he wasn’t part of their ring and had never even been inside The Swan before. Cat realised Tommy must have helped him find the way. But as the only outsider, bar the Dutch sailors, and with an escape more miraculous than her own, Cat wondered if Fletcher Greaves had been the one to alert the authorities of their early morning landing.

She glanced round for the rest of her crew in the hope that the barely lit room concealed others and that somehow, they had all made it.

“Smithy fell,” said Fletcher, reading her thoughts, “we made a run for it… but his foot was shot to bits… he held them back for us…” Fletcher trailed off.

“And Joe?” she asked, desperately.

Tommy shook his head. “Gone. But I didn’t see Luke.”

“Luke is…” Cat stopped as the image flashed again in her mind, the whistle of the shot, the thud as it hit his chest, throwing him back like a punch, a gaping hole, the shock and surprise on his young face as he drifted under the water, clouds of his own blood concealing him from view. “He didn’t make it,” she finished.

She felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Michael with a grim but reassuring smile. He hadn’t wanted her to have any part of this but he’d never been able to hold her back. More than simply getting involved, Cat had actively expanded their smuggling ring and, after the accident with the carthorse that took him off his feet, she’d eagerly taken it over.

“Dammit!” Tommy slammed a table with his fist.

“Easy, that helps none.” Michael spoke softly and Cat knew how frustrated he must have been. He had hardly been able to leave his chair let alone help with the landings these past few months and she couldn’t imagine how he felt now having had to ‘sit it out’ and hear second-hand how his lifelong friends were killed and his wife and brother shot at.

“Well, what is of help?” snarled Tommy, pacing, “sitting quiet in the dark? I for one can’t stand for it.”

“We’ve no chance of much else, Tom, lad,” John said, his voice weary, “we’ve to lay low… for a good long while.” He let out a long sigh and shook his head.

“Are we safe here?” Fletcher asked.

“As safe as we were at the landings,” Cat replied.

“Aye. They’ll be on their way,” Michael said.

Cat looked down at him. Hidden in his tired eyes was still the little boy who’d been her childhood best friend. He reached out his hand, warm and comforting to her cold, wet, bruised and beaten fingers. There was sadness but a resolute strength in his face. They’d lost everything they owned but still had each other.

“We’ll fight to the last man,” said Tommy, fierce and angry.

“We’ve one musket to the five of us,” Michael pointed out and Cat noticed the musket leaning against his chair, ready for use. Suddenly she realised that his comfortable chair by the empty hearth was also perfectly situated by the window. He had a clear view down the path beyond the front door and his bag of shot and powder lay neatly on the small table beside him; Michael had prepared for a siege. She wondered just how long he had kept this last resort in the back of his mind.

“Muskets be damned! I’ll take out a dozen with a blunt kitchen knife, just you see if I don’t!” Tommy snarled.

“Michael,” she said softly, knowing what his plan was, knowing she would be unable to shake him from it, “we can’t leave you here.”

“You can’t carry me.”

“Between us—”

“No, not through the tunnel, not quickly enough, not without someone to hold them back.”

The plan started to fall on the minds of the others.

“Tunnel?” Fletcher asked, his relief palpable; he was a desperate man who’d been pressed up against a wall and suddenly found it was a door.

“No man gets left.” Tommy was defiant “Least not my brother.”

“What of Smithy?” Fletcher pointed out.

Tommy stopped, his countenance altered, a look Cat had not seen on him before. She thought he might strike Fletcher, that he would attack him fists and teeth but he said nothing. He turned away and Cat understood his anger and realised that he must have committed an act that morning that he would never forgive himself for.

“Get to the barn,” Michael said softly but with a strength of resolve that wouldn’t be shaken. Cat opened her mouth to argue “I’ll meet you there at dusk,” he said before she could counter him. She nodded. She trusted him.

There was a glimmer of hope. She knew there was no reason for the Revenue Men to shoot a cripple and no solid foundation for an accusation of contrabanding against him. There was no way in heaven the posse could accuse Michael of having been on the beach that morning.

If she and the others could clear out to the tunnel before the Revenue Men got to The Swan, then there was still a chance. Still hope of escape.

“Which way?” asked Fletcher, desperate to flee and confused by their delay.

“Tommy, show him.” Michael looked at Tommy. There was not a further word passed between them and, with a reluctant nod, he led the way with Fletcher in quick pursuit.

Cat looked at Michael trying to search for the words to say.

Suddenly there was a bang at the door and her world fell out of her.

The colour drained from Michael’s face.

“Come with us!” Cat said, grasping at his shirt, and pulling at him to stand on his bad leg.

“No, I’ll hold them off, I’ll join you later. Now go!”

“Come on, Cat.” John Strong stood by the door, refusing to run without her. The Revenue Men began to shout. They all knew it would be seconds before they smashed the doors and windows, getting in from all sides.

Michael nodded to John who followed his silent order without hesitation and grabbed Cat, pulling her to the tunnel.

“Michael!” she called, there were no other words left.

“I love you,” he said, before looking away as Cat was pulled out of the door and down into the cellar. The last view she had of him was as he grabbed the musket and aimed it squarely at the door.

The entrance to the tunnel was wide open. John bundled her inside and turned to seal it behind them. He knew full well it would take no more than a few minutes before the Revenue Men found the entrance and followed them through but those few minutes were the only advantage they had.

As they ran, wildly, desperately in the dark, through the tight escape Cat had hope, a willful, powerful hope, that they would all make it and that everything could somehow stay the same.

Then there was a shot.

It echoed through the tunnel and Cat knew her world would never be the same again.

She stumbled, feeling sick at the realisation, unable and unwilling to go on. Then, in one swift movement, John picked her up and carried her toward the hideout.

Chapter Four
An Unexpected Guest

Lily was reading one of the few books that remained in her possession when she was interrupted by a small cough from Rita.

“Yes?” she asked pulling her eyes from the page for barely a moment.

“There is a gentleman here to see you, Ma’am.”

Lily sighed. She had very quickly learnt that there was little she could do to prevent these visitors. The first one had been a surprise; she had been genuinely unaware of a single debt her father had accrued. To learn of one was most shocking and embarrassing to the newly orphaned young woman. She had settled the debt immediately, apologising profusely and explaining that her father must have forgotten in the ill health of his last months.

But then there had been another. Then another. Until it seemed there was nothing but a succession of tailors, wine merchants, book-keepers, and every other trader and merchant in Bristol of both good repute and ill who had some debt of incredible proportion to settle with her late father.

“Show him in,” she said, putting aside her book and readying herself for whatever terrible news she was about to hear.

The worst part of all this business was that Lily had no knowledge or understanding of the manner in which her father had earned his income. She couldn’t believe he was still living off the profits from his years as a privateer, but she hadn’t been able to make head nor tail of any of his business dealings since. When she had made an attempt to go through her late father’s papers with his solicitors, Messer’s Lever and Stern, she had only ever managed to accrue more extortionate bills.

“A Mister George Herbert for you, ma’am.”

This visitor was a tall man, well-tailored, with a sparkling white powdered wig, a long black coat, black ruffled tie, a black waistcoat with bright silver shining buttons, black breeches, black hose, and black shoes with bright, shining silver buckles. Lily had never seen so much black on anyone but a chief mourner. Mr Herbert reminded her of an undertaker or, she realised with a familiar dread, a lawyer.

She stood and welcomed him with a forced smile, “Mr Herbert,” she said with an outstretched hand, “Rita, would you be so kind as to fetch us some tea? What brings you to my humble abode, sir?”

“I’m afraid I come with bad tidings.”

‘What a surprise!’ she thought, bitterly. “Do take a seat,” she said, her forced smile so wide she had to remind herself not to terrify the poor man.

He sat with his case upon his lap, then placed the case on the floor, thought better of it and placed it on his lap again.

“I’m not quite sure how to break the news, in fact.” He was dithering.

‘Spit it out,’ she thought. “Take your time,” she said, unsure now whether to smile reassuringly or appear sombre. It had been so long since she was socially permitted to demonstrate her true sensibilities that she had quite lost track of the appropriate disguise and eventually settled on sympathy.

“You see I’ve not had to deliver news like this before, I’m afraid, I… I don’t quite know how.”

Lily almost felt sorry for him, ‘what was it to be this time?’ she thought, ‘a hundred pounds? Two hundred pounds? A thousand pounds?’ She was quite beyond caring.

“I’m afraid, Miss Exquemelin, your sister is dead.”

Lily began to laugh.

Chapter Five
The Hideout

The barn had a secret cellar.

It had been dug out many summers ago and occasionally used for extra storage when the crypt in which they usually hid the contraband in became full. At Michael’s insistence, the cellar had become their armoury and, as well as pistols and shot, also contained a large chest with clothes, rum, salted meat, and brandy cake. It was a stockade they’d all hoped they’d never need.

Cat and John made it to the barn just as Tommy Meadows and Fletcher Greaves were closing off the trap door to the cellar. Strong helped Cat, numb and disorientated, down into the darkness and Tommy pulled closed the sealed entrance behind them.

No one dared breathe.

The Revenue Men would spend the next few hours covering miles of countryside looking for any trace of them but not knowing if they were close at hand or had made their escape. It was a small advantage.

All the smugglers had to do was wait and hope the King’sRrevenue gave up their search.

Cat lay in the blackness.

Exhausted from the long night, she drifted in and out of an uncomfortable sleep plagued by the image of Luke. She saw over, and over again his surprise, his pain, and the red of the blood as he sank into the water. Luke’s face became Michael’s: his happy smile, his joyous spirit, his wit, and charm all wiped away with the sound of a single…

BANG!

Cat woke with a start. Her heart pounding, she flailed around. John was there, his strong hand on her arm.

“Easy now, lass, ‘tis safe, ‘tis safe.”

She lay back down and tried to regain her breath. She didn’t know how many hours had passed in that dark stifling place but Fletcher had felt secure enough to light a candle and the small soft light brought some comfort to her.

“What time is it?” Cat asked, sitting up.

She was tired and uncomfortable, chilled to the bone from her time in the water. Much of her dress was still sodden and damp, her muscles ached from her battering against the rocks and her desperate climb as well as the awkward position of her sleep, and she felt weak from going many hours without food.

“Well after noon; nigh on three,” Fletcher replied slipping his watch back into his pocket.

Cat could hardly believe she had slept so long; it had felt like just a few short moments. Just long enough for those images to impress themselves on her mind.

She took to her boots to try to forget the memory, fighting with the laces and then peeling off the sodden stockings. She cared little that the men could see her bare feet; she had been through enough today without allowing the imposition of modesty to prevent her comfort. She rummaged through the trunk and pulled out a pair of breeches and a shirt that looked small enough to fit her slight frame. She cursed herself for not making sure there would be a set of spare clothes for her but it had never occurred to her that she would be the one in hiding.

She managed to find some clothes large enough to fit John and suggested that the others look through for any kind of a disguise. Cat was also relieved to find a bag of gold in the trunk that she had completely forgotten existed. They would need all the luck they had between them to survive the next few hours.

Once she’d changed, she handed out some food and rum, counted out the money between them, and hung her stockings up to dry. But then she had nothing to do but contemplate her future.

“What should our next move be?” she asked quietly. There was a long and awkward pause.

“Let us wait for Mike, he will have a solid plan in mind,” Tommy said as if to end the conversation.

Cat glanced at Strong. They both knew that Michael would not be joining them but neither had yet voiced that news.

“We’ll wait but…”

“What?” Tommy snapped, glaring across at her through the gloom of the roughly hewn cellar. It suddenly dawned on Cat how like a burial chamber it was.

“I… don’t know if he’ll come.”

“O’course he will! Michael Meadows is not a man to abandon his brother!” Tommy emphasised the word ‘brother’ and the sting of leaving out ‘wife’ did not go unnoticed by her.

Tommy was never one to make anything easy for her. She glanced again at John but it was her place to break this news, her place to voice it.

“We heard a shot, Tommy.”

His countenance changed. The growling irritation fell away and she saw a moment of sheer panic sweep across his face followed by a wave of determined anger.

“And ye’ve kept silent!?” he growled at her, standing as he did so and heading to the trap door. Fletcher pulled him back.

“What’s your thinking, boy?” he asked.

“That witch has left my brother to die of his wounds, that’s my thinking.” He went to unfasten the lock.

“Nay, lad,” John interrupted, his voice calm and soft, “he did his duty and we know not that he was hit. He may ‘ave been the one to fire. We can do naught but wait ‘til after sundown. Else we’ll put us all at risk and your brother would o’ gained nothin’ by ‘is stand.”

Tommy pulled away from the trapdoor, his whole body tense with anger, “The fault lies at your feet!” he spat the words at Cat, she said nothing; she had no defence.

Cat knew she should have stayed and fought by Michael’s side, she shouldn’t have agreed to a landing at such a late tide, she should have checked every last man for the possibility of betrayal, she shouldn’t have allowed such bold confidence to guide her decisions, she should have been humble, careful, law abiding.

“Mike cared nothing of gold afore he married you,” Tommy continued, “with your fancy silks and rubies and London balls!”

Cat stood angrily. On all other counts, he may have been right but this was enough to boil her rage. “You never complained when he kept you in women and gin!” she shouted.

“Mike loved you!” Tommy spat. “Mike loved you more ‘an the sun ‘n’ moon! An’ all you ever done was look down on him like yer still lady o’ the manor!” There were tears springing up in his eyes but this only served to feed her anger. He would not hold the monopoly on grief.

“The only man I look down on, Tommy Meadows, is you, and that’s ‘cause you spend your life in the gutter.”

Suddenly Strong grabbed her. A hand pressed against her mouth. Surprised, she struggled for a moment before she realised Fletcher had done the same to Tommy. She followed Fletcher’s gaze to the ceiling and with a sinking, twisting comprehension she realised there were guards in the barn.

Cat cursed herself. She cursed her foolishness and anger. But there was little else she could do as they stood in the darkness listening to the sound of boots above their heads.

It seemed like forever that the soft tapping of feet continued. The guards searched the hay, there were two pairs perhaps three pairs of feet; she wasn’t sure, but there was a slow solemnity to their steps that hinted at a lack of urgency which only added to the fear. The men were searching methodically and combing every inch of the barn above. Any moment now they would stumble upon the door, any moment now it would open and the bright light and Revenue Men would pour in. Would theirs be a final stand, a shootout, would they die in their hole? Or be led to the scaffold to swing?

Cat waited with a sickness overcoming her.

Then suddenly there was a shout, distant, muffled.

It was replied to; a sudden firm call from a voice directly above their heads. Then the patter of feet as the searchers left their task, left the hay croft, and disappeared into the distance.

For a long time, none of them moved. They didn’t know if it was a trap or if they had truly been overlooked.

Then finally, Strong lowered his hand. His whole body had tensed in fear and Cat realised she could suddenly breathe freely again.

She was apologetic but said nothing. Fletcher freed Tommy who was as sullen as a schoolboy given the rap.

“Now,” John said, firmly, “not a word from either of thee.”

“She killed Michael!”

Barely before Tommy had let the words slip from his mouth he was struck across the chin. Cat gasped. Giant as he was, she had never seen John in a temper and certainly never seen him strike another man.

“And thou’ll kill the rest of us,” John hissed as Tommy recovered himself, his hand stroking what was certain to become another mighty bruise. He nodded bitterly and Cat felt that both she and Tommy had lost their argument.

She sat back down on the hard earth floor and took a swig of rum. They had a long afternoon ahead.

Chapter Six
The Reading of the Will

“I’m so sorry,” Lily apologised, “whatever must you think of me?”

Mr Herbert was bemused but managed to stutter a reply. “Grief takes many forms, I… I completely understand.”

“I am quite taken by surprise… it … it must have been a sudden death?”

“I believe it was a lingering illness which took a sudden turn for the worse but I’m afraid I have little more information.”

Lily was desperate to know and had to prepare herself. She wondered if her sister, Hazel, had been hiding a fortune or a black hole of debt like their father. Was she to be burdened yet again or was this the great reversal of fortune such as the heroine in her novel was due to undertake any page now?

“I quite understand.” She tried to keep her tone even and repress the eagerness and tumult of emotion raging inside her.

“Here we go miss,” Rita broke Lily’s train of thought with a bustling entrance, “it’s all still nice an’ hot, Miss,” she began preparing the tea, “I shall pour it before it gets cold and let it brew as it cools, we hadn’t been prepared for guests and so we are at this moment quite out of victuals—”

“That’s quite lovely, thank you, Rita, you may go.” Lily held her smile and firmly held her gaze until Rita was quite out of the room and the door was sealed but she couldn’t restrain herself any longer. “So, you are here to read the will, Mr Herbert?” Lily took over the task of pouring the tea, attempting to appear as nonchalant as possible.

“Actually, the will has already been read. In line with your sister’s wishes her estate was divided amongst her… business associates.”

That was certainly one way of referring to the women that helped Hazel run that den of sin on the London docks, she thought.

“This,” Mr Herbert said, pulling a slim package from his case. It was wrapped in browning parchment, an unbroken wafer sealing it from prying eyes, “is all that she left you.”

Lily’s heart leapt. Her breathing caught in her chest and she felt barely able to take the package from Mr Herbert’s outstretched hand. With trembling fingers, she reached out and closed her fingers around it, feeling its solidity; it was real.

But she hesitated.

Perhaps it wasn’t… perhaps after everything, her sister had still held out. So, desperate to have the last laugh even if it meant no one would ever retrieve her father’s legacy.

Lily had written to her sister and offered to take on the full risk of the voyage herself so that they may divide their father’s final fortune between them. Lily had been certain that even half the hidden fortune would be more than enough to settle his debts and allow her to live comfortably. She could stay at her father’s estate in Bristol or make a fresh start in London. Live an independent life.

But Hazel had refused.

She had been certain that Lily would take the gold for herself and had instead asked her to return home, to their childhood home in London, to help run their mother’s business.

This time it was Lily who refused. The thought of joining the business was repugnant to her and so their feud had continued unresolved.

And now Hazel was dead.

“Do you…?” Lily began but trailed off unsure what answers she was looking for that wouldn’t be found by simply opening the package.

Mr Herbert sat up straight, “I’m afraid I’ve been prevented, by law, from having any knowledge of the contents,” he said professionally.

Lily tentatively turned the package in her hands. She would never know unless she opened it but then she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“I can leave if you wish,” Mr Herbert said, misinterpreting her reluctance as a desire for privacy.

“No,” Lily replied firmly, “I may yet require your assistance.” She didn’t know what for but decided to prepare for the worst. Her sister may have been cruel enough to leave her a large bill as a final joke from beyond the grave or, even worse, she could be about to discover herself the guardian of some illegitimate waif that her sister had hidden amongst her poets and dukes.

Lily took a deep breath and broke the wax wafer sealing the package.

An old, creased, tightly-folded parchment lay within. She could hardly breathe as she slid out the contents and unfolded it to look upon what was written there and…

There it was!

It was the very one from her father’s study, the one she knew so well from hours staring at it as a child. It had those same scrawlings and the mysterious symbols that she had later come to understand as her father’s secret code.

But there was something different, something new that didn’t belong.

Pinned to the top right-hand corner of her father’s great treasure map was a note. A small unassuming note written in her sibling’s hand, it simply read: ‘You win.’

“Oh, Hazel!” she said and, for the first time in her life, Lily wept for her sister.

Chapter Seven
Queen of Diamonds

Cat picked at a piece of salted meat as she watched Fletcher and John silently play cards. She wasn’t hungry but it kept her occupied.

Tommy sat alone in the darkest corner. The weak candlelight kept him in the shadows but Cat didn’t have to see his face to know he was weeping.

The others said nothing but Cat couldn’t stop herself from feeling angry with him and then angry with herself for lacking sympathy. It was as though Tommy was taking her place as the chief mourner of her husband and that through his display of grief, albeit kept in the shadows, he should make her appear as if to have no heart at all.

She was also angry at him for being right to hate her. For, try as she might, to feel the loss of Michael, no tears would come.

Trying to focus on something, anything, else Cat reached out to check if her stockings were dry but even after hours hanging in the stifling chamber they were still damp. Her skirts were un-wearable and if they were to make a move as soon as nightfall then she would have to go dressed in the men’s clothes she had found. If they travelled by night, then they were unlikely to be spotted however if by chance they were seen then a woman in men’s clothing would be a conspicuous and memorable sight and it would be certain to raise suspicions. It would be too much of a risk and Cat would have to ensure she could pass for a boy.

Fletcher glanced at his watch and sighed.

“Sundown has long since passed,” he said, “the night is too short for me to wait longer.” He stood and straightened his waistcoat before replacing his coat.

“Where do intend to go?” Cat asked.

“Bristol,” he replied, “word of this small business won’t have reached that far. I’ll lay low for a month or so.”

“Tha’ sounds good enough fer me,” Strong said, stretching and preparing to make a move.

“I cannot take you with me!”

“Yes, you can, Fletch,” said Cat, “you owe us that much.”

“I owe you nothing.’”

“This was your landing as much as ours, your smuggling run as much as ours, and we’ve given you shelter but as far as I know you may have given the tip off.”

She’d gone too far: Fletcher’s face reddened. “I put my neck on the block alongside yours! Do you honestly think I’d scupper my own landing to face the posse?”

“Aye, be fair Cathy, we’ve no reason to think Fletch dobbed hi’self in alongside us.”

“Then who did?” Tommy asked, his face still red from his weeping, his voice a low, growling whisper, reminding them all to keep their voices quiet.

The question silenced them.

“The magistrate?” asked Fletcher, not realising who he accused.

The words stung Cat. Hearing her father’s title still had an uncomfortable emotional power over her.

“Aye,” she whispered, “there’s little doubt of that. But who gave him word.”

“Billy,” Strong said the name slowly and with a hateful certainty.

“Who is Billy?” asked Fletcher.

“He’s just a local lad,” Cat explained, “he didn’t turn up to the landing as he should have.”

“Ye said he were heavy asleep,” Tommy argued.

“Aye,” John growled, “and I’d hoped the little bugger was. I called on him in passin’ but he never answered so I went on without him.”

“That’s not much testament against a man,” Fletcher pointed out.

“Billy’s a snitch,” Tommy said, “always has been.”

“You stood word for him, Thomas!” Cat said, angry he’d kept Billy’s lack of trustworthiness from her.

Tommy shook his head, “Michael wanted to give him a chance. With his Ma sickening, he needed the money for the doctor an’ so Michael was soft on him. But he was always the lad that spilt his guts to the schoolmaster first, you should remember that.”

“Ratting on your school friends is one thing, Tommy,” she said, “but you’re saying he would see us hung?”

“Billy’s the only man that wasn’t there,” Strong said with finality, “the only man ‘cept Michael who knew of the landing but weren’t there.”

Cat considered his point. There was no way the Revenue Men could have simply stumbled upon the landing. No letters had been written which could have been intercepted and no conversation was held in the open or in public, only in closed quarters and always between men due to attend. She knew the law and she had been careful.

It seemed clear that they had been betrayed and clearer still that the only man capable was Billy.

“Well, it changes little, if we are all indeed going to Bristol then we ought to take our leave,” Fletcher said, turning to open the hatch.

“No, we’re going pay a visit to Billy,” Cat said with certainty.

“I thought you wanted to come with me?” Fletcher looked back to her, confused.

“You’re coming with us first.” She stood and looked to John and Tommy, their faces were grim and she knew they agreed that this business couldn’t be left undone.

“Where to?” Fletcher asked, “this Billy of yours could be a hundred leagues from here by now.”

“No, not Billy,” snarled Tommy, “that little Judas will be sitting plump at home, counting his silver no doubt.”

Fletcher nodded. “I’ll join you to catch that little rat but if he’s made his escape I’ll not waste my one chance for flight in a hunt for a wild goose. I’ll take my leave and you if you want to keep your necks you’ll take leave with me.”

“That’s a fair deal, Fletch,” Cat conceded, “What of you two?”

“That bastard killed my brother and some of the finest men I’ve known.”

Cat couldn’t help but feel a guilty relief that Tommy’s anger was focused on someone else. But somehow his earlier harsh words came back to her and stung even more. Cat knew Michael had always loved her more than she loved him and she hoped that avenging his death would be the start of making up for that.

“Cathy,” said Strong, hesitantly, “just what are we to do with Billy once we get to him?”

“Give him this,” she said, holding out a discarded playing card.

“The Queen of Diamonds?” asked Fletcher, confused.

Cat smiled and turned the card around.

Their faces fell.

Chapter Eight
A Dark Duty

Cat had distributed the shot, pistols, and powder equally between them, and each, as silently as the next, had accepted his weapon sombrely.

None had said a word against her going out in breeches, shirt and jacket, and, along with her dainty stockings and heeled boots, she cut an unusually dandy figure for such a dark duty.

The breath of fresh night air that greeted them as they opened the trap door was a welcome relief after so many hours trapped below ground in the dark. The night was clear and the stars were bright across the bay. There was a chill in the air from the sea which carried on it the sound of waves crashing against the rocks. Her hands were still raw and bloodied from scrambling up those same rocks just a few hours before.

As she led the men along the road a distant memory flooded back; her, as a child, leading her small band of boys off on adventures in the nearby countryside. She would challenge each one to be braver than her as she dashed up trees, leapt over streams, clambered up rock faces, and swam in the lake and sea. There had not been a boy in the village that could beat her for swimming, save Michael. He was the only boy brave enough to risk a crack on the jaw for winning against ‘Kitty Cadogan’. But the girl that ‘Kitty’ had been was long gone and it was now the woman, Catherine Meadows, who steadied her resolve at the memory of that fresh-faced boy.

Billy was about to pay dearly for destroying that little world she had loved.

Cat caught sight of the roof of The Swan and stopped in her tracks. John was beside her in seconds his hand on her shoulder.

“Tha’s not a place we’ll be like on seein’ for a while, Lass.”

But it was her home.

It was the only real home she had felt a part of, felt safe within, and felt wanted. It was the centre of village life and the centre of her world.

At this time of night, it should have been alive with fishermen all come home to rest and looking for food, fun, and cider. Later their wives would arrive to collect them and agree to stay, for just one, but staying on until the early hours playing music, singing songs, the odd bit of dancing on a table.

Cat smiled at the memory and the pain of losing so much threatened to unsteady her. She breathed deeply and took off toward the little cottage at the other end of the village.

She’d already knocked hard and sudden on the door before the others caught up with her, taking away any chance they had of changing her mind.

There was no response.

“That’s the end of the deal. I’ll be on my way.” Fletcher tipped his cap but Cat grabbed his lapel and pulled him back.

“If you’d just killed four men would you answer a knock at the door?”

Fletcher shook his head and she detected a hint of fear in his countenance. She let him go. He wasn’t the enemy and it shouldn’t be Cat that was instilling fear.

“Tommy, John, you go round back.” They nodded and disappeared. Cat turned to Fletcher, “you and I are going in.”

She waited just a moment to give Tommy and Strong long enough to find their way to the back door of Billy’s cottage in the half dark.

Then she burst in.

The room was empty and dark. No candles had been lit, there was no food on the table, and no fire in the grate. Cat strode to the middle of the room listening.

Suddenly, a figure darted out from behind a curtain and made a dash for the back door. Cat didn’t have to move a muscle. Billy ran straight into the great, bear-like chest of John Strong. Billy staggered back, looking up before pulling his cap quickly off his head and turning it nervously in his hand.

“How’re you doin’ there now, Mr Strong?” Billy asked, his voice wavering.

“Not so good, Billy-boy. All in all, been a bit of a rough ol’ day.”

Cat almost smiled at Strong’s outrageous understatement. But this business was too dark to find humour in.

Billy looked at each of them in turn, spinning his cap in his hands furiously. “What does thou want with little me, then?”

Cat stepped forward and held out the Queen of Diamonds to him. Tentatively his shaking hand took the card and he looked at it, puzzled.

“Turn it over, Billy,” Tommy growled.

Billy did so and his face turned chalk-white as he fell into the chair behind him.

“The black spot!” he said, “ye- ye can’t mean it!” He looked desperately to Tommy, “ye can’t mean to kill poor Billy now, can ye?”

“And what do you think Michael would have to say?”

“Michael? What’s your brother to do with this, Tom?”

“He’s dead,” Cat said.

Saying those words made it real, final. He was gone. Her best friend, her closest ally, and the man who loved her more than life itself, was gone.

She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on it. She couldn’t open that well of sorrow now; she had business to deal with.

“As is Joseph Sawyer, Luke Tyler, and Elias Smith.” Cat needed Billy to hear their full names, without any emotion. She needed to make him feel as if she were a judge declaring his crimes and ordering his execution.

“I n-never meant for that!” Billy squealed, crawling back further in the chair, “I never did! They came to me, they saw me, last month, in Penzance, when I took the rum, they threatened, said they had to know where and when—”

“That was the day ye said ye got into that fight? Is that how comes yer was covered in ‘em bruises, Billy?” Strong’s voice had softened and the father in him was surfacing and warming to Billy’s tale. Cat could see John was starting to feel for the frightened little mouse that squealed before them.

Billy nodded furiously. “I-I didn’t think they’d hurt any of ye, I never thought—”

“You did think!” Cat snapped suddenly, “you thought of your own damned hide!” Her pistol flew out of its holster and she pointed it to his head, wavering in her trembling hand.

“Catherine!” Strong yelled at her, “leave this to us! Michael wouldn’t want thee stained by a man’s blood!

“I didn’t think they’d hurt ye! I never thought, Miss Kitty, I never thought they’d kill ‘em!”

The use of her childhood name stung.

“What did you think they’d do then, you artless scut?” Cat was almost screaming, “Join us for a drink in The Swan? Sing us a sea shanty as we moved the kegs? They came to kill us, Billy, they came to shoot us down or string us up. And you! You invited them!”

“I never knew, I never—”

“Then why weren’t you there?” she screamed, shaking the barrel of the flintlock inches from his face.

He looked desperately from between John and Tommy, hoping one of them would stand with him, would take the pistol from her, and stop this madness.

“I think he be scared enough now, Lass,” said Strong, finally.

“I didn’t come here to scare him!” Cat fired.

Chapter Nine
A Sudden Departure

Lily was packing ferociously. She was pulling clothes from drawers and throwing them into the great travelling trunk. It was bursting with far more than it could ever contain yet more luggage kept flowing. She had no idea what to take and no clue what she would need with her. She had never been to sea for this long before.

‘What does one wear?’ she thought.

Lily stopped. She had to start with the basics. She rummaged under her bed, pulling out the wooden instrument chest of her father’s. It was made of dark, weather-beaten mahogany and it had seen many an adventure. Lily had always known the contents were valuable but had not been able to part with them so she had taken to hiding the chest and concealing the key on a cord around her neck.

This box contained her last desperate hope. She opened it carefully. The velvet lining had long since worn down and now it was balding but still held its faded red. Sitting neatly inside were all her father’s precious and well-used brass instruments; a compass, spyglass, sextant, astrolabe, watch, and a beautiful brass knife. Each instrument was exquisitely crafted and, although they had faced their fair share of use over the years, each one was just as perfect as she remembered. Time could dull the shine but not the sense of pure adventure that rippled through her as she picked each one out and turned it in her fingers. She could hear her father’s words, echoing through the years, his words of encouragement as the young Lily struggled with learning the navigation, or held the instrument the wrong way. She smiled; a bitter joy at the memory, breathing deeply to avoid the tears that threatened to spring in her eyes.

Beneath these brass instruments was her father’s journal, a battered old book detailing the exotic locations he had visited, the people he had met, and the adventures he’d had over his many years at sea. His carefully folded atlas, just a few years old but now fresh exploration of the globe rendered it so far out of date as to be useless. Along with his maps, were kept his pair of spectacles, neatly placed in a velvet pouch, ready and waiting for the master who would never require them again. Then at the very bottom of the little wooden trunk was the little red, leather-bound book. He had given it to her years ago, the same day he had given Hazel the map. It was the only item she had been certain he had wanted her to have. It was her half of the jigsaw.

This small, unremarkable book contained everything she needed to unlock the encryption in her sister’s map. It contained all the codes she needed to understand the symbols, markings and measurements. Without the map, it was a useless tome and without her code book, the map had proven indecipherable.

Lily carefully placed Hazel’s map alongside the code book. She had forgotten how complicated the map was. It wasn’t simply the outline of an island, there was lists of coded messages, a series of numbers and symbols which, when deciphered, explained how to reach the hidden island. His final bequest.

Her father in his strange sentimental way had hoped that by giving one daughter the map and the other daughter the key it would somehow bind the two together and they would work through their problems to find the gold. She could only assume that he had imagined the two of them on a roaring adventure on the high seas and forming a sisterly bond that would never be broken.

He’d been wrong.

The prospect of the hidden treasure had torn the two ever further apart and created a rift that had never come close to being repaired. Lily couldn’t blame Hazel; they had both been just as much at fault and now there was no going back. Their rift had come to an end in the worst possible of ways. Lily would never be able to heal their relationship and her sister had died thinking it mattered to Lily that she had ‘won’. But now the treasure hunt was all she had of her family and it was the one hope, the one chance she had to put all this chaos behind her and start afresh.

She sat on the carpet staring at the wooden luggage trunk overflowing with everything she could think of that she might need to journey across the globe to find hidden gold; a treasure that would change her world.

It was madness.

She hadn’t been to sea in years, and only then it had been with her father on very short journeys to the continent. She was sure she had forgotten most of her lessons in navigation and yet if she were to pursue the hoard hidden on the island this map indicated, then she knew she would have to be at sea for weeks, possibly months, travelling to worlds she had only ever heard stories about.

How was she to make it all the way to this promised island filled with gold on her own?

She wasn’t even certain the gold would still be there after all these years. Her father could have been double crossed without ever knowing. Someone may have stumbled upon the treasure and taken it for themselves. Hazel may have got there first and given her this map as a last twisted joke. The whole island could have been washed out to sea in a tropical storm. Or, saddest of all, it may not be enough to fill the hole in her father’s finances and she could be in even more debt after paying out for the trip.

She picked up the little red book. The lettering on the front, embossed and picked out in still-shining gold leaf, read; ‘Fortune Favours the Brave.’

She laughed bitterly. “Does it?” she asked out loud.

Her father didn’t answer; he was long gone. As was her mother, her sister, her parent’s fortune, her so-called friends, and now even the servants had dwindled down to one.

‘What will become of me?’ she thought.

She had nothing of her old life left.

But she held in her hand the possibility of something new, all she had to do was take it.

A steady resolve building in her mind, Lily heaved her body off the bedroom floor and strode across the room opening the door and calling down the hall.

“Rita?!”

“Yes, Miss,” Rita replied, appearing from a corner, a feather duster in her hand.

“How does one find oneself a ship?”

Chapter Ten
The Overnight Crossing

‘What will become of me?’ Cat thought.

She’d grown up with a clear, vivid path ahead of her. Laid out before she was even born. Her parents had known exactly who they wanted her to marry, exactly how they wanted their lives to move upwards as a result and exactly how their daughter would change their fortune from poor but titled to the very peak of the aristocracy. They had never once thought about her and what she saw for herself or how she wanted her own future to play out. She couldn’t imagine turning into her mother and becoming the meek shadow of an arrogant man. Cat wanted and needed to be free. To find her own way in the world.

She’d cast away that life at the first chance she had. She’d torn up the dowry contract her father had made and run off into the night never to speak to him again. It had been the most exciting adventure she had ever had. Cat had leapt on the back of a horse and eloped with the eldest son of a landlord. She had never wanted to be get married at all but she found marrying a landlord’s son amusingly ironic. Her father, a land-owning Lord, did not.

Cat had relished her new life.

The past year had been the happiest she had ever known. It hadn’t been perfect, she was lucky that Michael had accepted their arrangement, but she had always strived for more. More money, more excitement, more danger. That’s what pushed her further, deeper into the smuggling; the exhilaration, the risk, and always, always the possibility of something wonderful she just couldn’t picture what it was.

And that something wonderful would never come, not now.

Now, she was a widow walking the cliffs at night running from the law. She hadn’t let herself think that word until now. But it’s what she was; a widow, an outlaw, and, most chillingly, she was now a murderess.

‘What will become of me?’ The question spun in her mind as she hurriedly followed the others. They were all just shadows in the moonlight heading toward a village a few miles along the coast from Cadogan Bay.

Fletcher was leading. He had a plan to get them to Bristol but there was no guarantee it would come through and no way of knowing if his contacts would be willing to help or even able. But it was all they had. They couldn’t stay in the barn cellar forever.

They had to run or be hung.

Cat could see the outline of a village up ahead. A few scattered lights like earthbound stars. The village swooped down from the top of the cliff to a low harbour, the high full moon shimmering in the sea.

Fletcher stopped and considered for a moment.

“Wha’s thinking?” Strong asked, his voice a low rumble.

“The man I know... he might be of help for enough coin.”

Cat considered. “So, what’s the problem?”

Fletcher’s brow furrowed. “He may be dead, he may be drunk, or he may hand us straight over to the law if their price is higher.”

Cat glanced at Strong, hoping he might give her some indication of his thoughts. “What do you think on it, Cathy?” he said.

“Do you trust this man?” she asked.

He looked down the hill to the village as if considering its honesty. “‘Bout as far as I can throw him,” Fletcher said after a while, “it’s dark, we’ve eaten, we’ve got weapons and coin enough, but… we won’t get to Bristol afore dawn on our feet and if the hue and cry 'as gone up they’ll smoke us out before we get as far as Dorset.”

Cat nodded firmly. She trusted Fletcher or at least she trusted his judgment when it came to saving his own skin. “Then we’ll risk it,” she said, “you sound him out, Fletch, the rest of us will wait down by the harbour—”

“Since when do you speak for all?” Tommy snapped, looking at her with the eyes of a wolf in the dark. He made her more uneasy than ever. His feelings toward her had gone deeper than a mere dislike and tonight Cat felt as though his lowest expectations of her had been met and far exceeded.

“You’re welcome to your piece, Tommy,” Strong said in a kind, even tone that Cat was currently incapable of.

“I say we run. We’re going too slow; she’s holding us back.”

Cat couldn’t restrain a bitter laugh.

“Don’t you laugh at me, bitch!”

“You want to run to Bristol, Tommy?” she said, dubiously “In the dark? Along a cliff edge?” she laughed again, “be my guest.”

He looked about to pounce.

“Now, Tommy, lad,” Strong stepped between them, a hand cautiously on Tommy’s chest, “I’m an old man. By rights, I should be in my bed not runnin’ around on cliffs at night. I can’t make that run, must be more an’ two ‘undred mile, no doubt. I’m willing to take the boat.”

“I’d rather risk the boat as well,” Fletcher said, “if you’re all willing then I’ll go sound him out.”

Cat nodded and Fletcher disappeared down the path.

Tommy spat on the ground at Cat’s feet and followed Fletcher.

“He needs time,” Strong whispered.

“We’ve both lost Michael,” Cat struggled to keep the break from her voice.

“I know, lass. But he ain’t got strength like thee. The lad needs time.”

Cat shook her head, angry. Angry with Michael, angry with Tommy, angry with Billy, but most of all she was angry with herself.

She let out a long deep sigh and took off after Fletcher and Tommy toward the harbour. John Strong followed closely behind.

The village was silent. Even the sea was still. It wasn’t often that Cat was out this late at night but she felt somehow it was appropriate that after this dark day she should be walking in the silence of the night.

They reached the low harbour. The tide was softly lapping at the stone wall. There was not a sound, just a gentle wind carrying the scent of the sea, and Cat couldn’t believe that the world could be so still after having been turned upside down.

It was several long minutes of silence before Fletcher appeared. The man with him looked tired and surprised to be awake and out on the harbour at this hour but Cat was relieved to see that he wasn’t drunk.

Without as much as a word of greeting, he led them over the wall and down a metal step ladder onto a jetty. His rowboat was floating gently on the tide and one by one they scrambled into it.

Quietly, Tommy and Strong took the oars. Their new companion whispered directions to his fishing boat bobbing in the harbour. It looked quite beautiful in the reflected moonlight and the few lights from the village.

As they pulled alongside it, Fletcher moved to climb aboard.

“Half now, half when we arrive.” The sudden growl was a stark contrast to the fisherman’s softly given directions.

“Let us get on the boat first, Jim.”

“Half now, half when we arrive.” His repetition was unsettling.

Fletcher glanced around the small crew and Cat was relieved for Michael’s presence of mind to squirrel away those emergency funds.

Between them, they managed to put together the gold agreed on. Cat was a little taken aback at the price Fletcher had settled on but the circumstances were desperate and she doubted there was another boatman within fifty miles who would take them.

It was only once they’d settled up that Jim allowed them to clamber aboard. Cat had always delighted at the chance to go to sea but tonight she was cold, wet, and tired, with a pit of grief and remorse digging in her stomach. She didn’t feel up to having the wind in her hair or seeing the sails fill, and the boat glide across the water. Instead, she went straight below deck and sat herself down on a pile of ropes and cloth. The boat was filled with the heavy stench of fish. At first, she thought it must still have a cargo but she realised that the boat itself had taken on the permanent smell as if it were always loaded with a hundred barrels of them.

The images visited her again stronger and stronger each time. First Luke, his face, his fear and shock, he was falling through the water the blood clouding his face for a moment and then suddenly it was Michael smiling and happy but a musket hole gaping in his chest. He turned into Old Smithy, screaming for help on the sand, then young Joe, bullet after bullet raining down on his young body. Then it was Billy begging, crying, and pleading for his life before the ball of lead pierced his features—

It was a blessed relief when she was suddenly shaken awake by John, a look of terror on his face.

“Move. Now!”

Chapter Eleven
Sea Captain

He breathed deeply, sat back in the chair, and gave Lily a long hard stare.

Captain Yates was a smartly dressed, nautical man of no more than thirty. His skin was dark from long hours out in the sun, he was fit, robust and healthy, and his eyes were kind but his face betrayed his displeasure.

“Sealed orders?” he repeated.

They were in a quiet corner of a busy coffee shop, surrounded by the soft chatter of many animated voices and the gentle clatter of crockery. They were far away from the busy waterfront and yet it was within these walls that most of the business of the harbour was arranged.

Lily kept her voice low, not wanting to be overheard by so many men of business, “Mr Yates, I—”

“Captain.” He corrected.

“My apologies, Captain Yates, it is imperative to the success of the voyage that the nature of our journey remains… completely confidential.”

“And the destination?”

Lily opened and closed her mouth, trying to find the words. She was aware that the more she spoke the more absurd her request became.

“I cannot say.”

The Captain let out another long sigh. “And the length of time required in reaching the destination?”

“I… I’m afraid I can’t be certain, a few weeks at least.”

He shook his head slowly then rubbed his temples before answering. His words were kind but the tone was firm.

“You wish me to gather a crew for an unknown journey for an unspecified length of time and for an unspecified payment which will only be paid pending the success of the mission. A mission of which we will know nothing and therefore cannot gauge the likelihood of success?”

Now it was Lily’s turn to sigh. It had seemed like such a straightforward plan but once put into words and repeated back to her she saw the irrationality.

“Yes,” she replied sadly, already knowing his response.

“Firstly, there is not a man of sense who would insure this voyage. I cannot, in good conscience, risk the lives of my men and the livelihood of my sponsors without the protection of a merchant insurer with a good reputation. Just think! An attack, a storm, a loss of trade wind, a navigational error; there are innumerable dangers out to sea that make insurance an absolute necessity.”

“So, if you could obtain insurance?”

“I’m afraid Miss…?”

“Exquemelin.”

He baulked at the pronunciation. “I’m afraid, Miss, that even if I could purchase insurance for this unknown journey I wouldn’t trust a crew that worked under sealed orders for an unspecified wage.”

“But—”

“And even if we were able to find a trustworthy crew and an insurer willing to cover the risk, how exactly do you intend to find the capital required to purchase supplies for the journey?”

“Your sponsor—”

“Owns my ship and gains a percentage of the profit. Nothing more.”

“I…” Lily looked down at her hands. She felt like a child put in her place after revealing her silly dreams, “I hadn’t thought,” she admitted.

“No,” the Captain said, “I don’t believe you have.”

Lily didn’t look up. She noticed Captain Yates pick up his tricorn hat from the table and she waited for him to leave. She could tolerate the embarrassment no longer.

But he didn’t stand.

After a long while, he spoke. His voice was softer than before. “I really do wish I could be of better service to you, Miss.”

She looked up and smiled at him, acknowledging his kindness. But she had nothing more to say. He looked to the door, clearly eager to leave but still hesitant.

“It is simply that the journey is too much of a risk… you are compounding danger upon danger.”

“I understand, Captain Yates,” she replied. But Lily couldn’t understand why he was so insistent on repeating his apologies. He had made himself clear. He could leave. They had no more business but there was clearly something that held him back. “If you feel there is any way you can be of assistance I would be most appreciative,” she said, hopefully, “Perhaps introduce me to a captain who would be willing to take the risk?”

A look of concern flashed across his face.

“I would not recommend that you take this voyage with any Captain and certainly there are none that I may be able to recommend.”

It was one thing to be refused by a single captain but it was quite another to suggest she give up on her quest entirely.

“I have accepted your refusal, Captain, but I would like to make this clear; I am taking this voyage. You may aid me or you may take your leave. That much, and only that much, is up to you.”

He sat up straighter and his countenance changed upon realising the ferocity of Lily’s determination.

“I must insist that you desist in your endeavours to make this voyage.”

“You can be certain of one thing, Captain, and that is; your ‘insistence’ has absolutely no authority over my decisions.” Lily thought that would be an end to it. That he would finally stand up and take his leave whilst complaining loudly of her rudeness but instead he smiled.

“I see,” he said, “you are aware of the folly of your intentions, are you not?”

“I am fully aware of your opinion of my folly, Sir.”

He spread his hands and sat back in his chair, clearly mulling over a thought. Lily waited.

“There is one way I may be able to aid you.”

“Go on,” Lily tried to keep her voice steady and her manner aloof as a mixture of relief and excitement washed through her.

“If you were to give me a hint of your destination I could secure a cargo for a nearby port and take you as a passenger. Once there you could secure a smaller vessel and crew, greatly reducing the length of your voyage and, therefore, the risk involved.”

Lily was disappointed. It appeared his plan would merely place her in exactly the same circumstances but in a completely foreign port.

Lily believed that Captain Yates was a good man and she had secured references that praised his reputation and character. She could see he genuinely wished to help her and she knew he spoke the truth when he talked of the danger of her voyage. She was starting to realise that her initial plan may never come to fruition. His idea would only take her part of the way. It would only be the first step. She could be stranded on unfamiliar islands just a few leagues from her father’s hidden cache with no way of reaching it.

But at least it would be a step closer.

She nodded to herself, confirming in her mind that indeed this was as solid a plan and as good a plan as she was likely to find on such short notice.

“When can we set sail?” she asked.

The Captain smiled and she could see he was relieved to have gained her approval.

“The Herakles is a fine vessel. You will be delighted to sail on her! She will be ready to set sail within the fortnight and if you let me know the name of the closest trade port to your goal then I should be able to secure a cargo well within that time.” He smiled broadly, believing his news was worthy of her delight.

But Lily’s heart sank.

Her house was now sold and she was due to leave it the day after tomorrow. She didn’t know where she would be in a fortnight and certainly didn’t think she would still be within the walls of Bristol.

The sale of the house had not been enough to satisfy her debt collectors, she was being hounded night and day. Some were polite but many others were not so and once the last of the money was gone she would be taken straight to the debtor’s prison.

She needed to escape the country or else she would be forced to throw herself at one of the paunchy, decrepit, merchants in the hope that he might become her benefactor. But her stomach was not strong enough for that desperate.

She cursed her luck.

If only she had the capital to purchase supplies and equip a ship. If only she could convince Captain Yates to take the risk. If only her father had died just a few weeks later. If only her sister had passed a few weeks earlier. If only neither of them had passed and instead she was living quietly and safely as they had all done before chaos greeted her like a great storm from the blue.

She smiled at the Captain in an attempt to demonstrate her gratitude but she knew that the end of her treasure hunt had come before she’d even left town. She was so very close to having a chance to turn her luck around but so very, very far.

“I shall be in touch,” she said brightly but in truth, she had just reached the lowest point of her young life and if some dramatic fortune did not land in her lap this very afternoon then she would be truly destitute.

Chapter Twelve
The Waterfront

Ships of all sizes clustered into the harbour at Bristol. Great masts of weathered pine formed a dense forest thick with tarred rigging, salt-stained sails, and the cacophonous sounds of gulls and men.

The waterfront was a haphazard collection of warehouses, sail lofts, timber yards, fish markets, taverns, and ships’ chandlers. Their contents spilled out onto the street as if the buildings were unable to contain the workmen, the traders, or their various wares. Dozens of horses and carts threaded their way among the throngs of dockworkers, sailors, traders, and drunks, mixing the potent smells of fish, tar, ale, tea, and spices with the pungent aroma of horse manure.

Early as it was, the waterfront was already bright and bustling with life as Cat, along with her three companions, still groggy, half asleep, and in need of breakfast, made their way along the harbour in search of Fletcher’s safe-house.

The four of them had been unceremoniously turfed out of their fishing vessel before the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. With the waterfront crawling with traders, sailors, and Revenue Men, Fletcher’s contact, Jim, had refused to drop them any further than the city walls and they’d had to pay heavily for the privilege. Now, as they came to the end of a long walk and an uncomfortable night, they barely had a few coins between them. Michael’s safety fund had got them this far but would aid them little more.

Tired, hungry, and dishevelled but alive, the four of them weren’t dead but they were desperate. With their last few pennies, they were able to buy themselves four crusts and a jug of weak ale. They hid amongst the crowd. Cat sat on the harbour wall as the others leant against it. The four of them looked to anyone passing like a bedraggled group of out-of-work sailors and it was the first chance they’d had to discuss the next stage of a plan.

“The Ship Ahoy,” Strong suggested. “It’s not got the coffee drinkers, like, but still… looks respec’able enough. They’ll be a few first mates looking to complement their crew I’ll wager. I’m reckonin’ on it bein’ our best bet.”

“Our best bet for what?” Cat asked, feeling as though a plan had been made without her knowledge.

“To make a run for it, Cathy,” Strong explained.

“Where to?”

“Anywhere,” Fletcher said.

“Aye, get aboard a ship and get ourselves as far as we can and wait for this trouble to pass us by.”

“Can we do that?” Cat hadn’t considered the idea of leaving the country and heading somewhere new. Everything was changing and moving so quickly she found it hard to keep up; the Revenue Men, The Swan, then Michael, and leaving Cadogan bay, and now leaving the country. It was so much all at once that she’d hardly had time to catch her breath.

But there was an obvious problem; “Can I do that?” she asked.

The men glanced at one another.

“They’ll think thee a lad! Ye’ve already dressed the part; don’t worry yesself on’t. They’ll look at us and see three strappin’ lads and an old goat. If anyone should be worried on getting the work it should be meself!”

“Why stay together?” Tommy asked suddenly.

Fletcher shrugged and Cat looked away.

It also hadn’t occurred to her that they would separate, not now, not after what they had been through. The thought of being alone, truly alone, without a friend, without family, with not a soul in the world she knew to help suddenly terrified her.

She glanced up along the bustling waterfront.

They had reached their destination. Taken flight from the village she’d known her whole life and landed here. But to what end?

Bristol Harbour was a chaotic nightmare compared to the languid routines of the people of Cadogan Bay. Everyone moved so quickly, men to carry cargo from ship to cart and from cart to ship, barrels, crates, livestock, silks, wines, spices, fruits, all going straight to market, be it in town or along the river or by horse into the country.

It was all so busy with everyone knowing what they were doing; there didn’t seem to be a place for her.

Strong sighed. “Well, I’m headin’ to ‘The Ship Ahoy’, ye can all come with or make yer own way. Makes no odds. Best of luck to yer Tommy. Comin’ Fletch?”

“No,” Fletcher said shaking his head. He wasn’t one of them, he was an outsider, and he’d had his own plan from the start yet Cat felt a pang of disappointment at his desertion.

“I’ll go to The Black Bouy, I know them well, I’ll see what the word is and try to lay low,” he said, “I can meet you in The Master’s Arms thereafter. We might not have to resort to passage.”

Strong nodded, visibly relieved.

“Cathy, what of thee?” he asked.

Cat didn’t know the first thing about laying low or earning passage nor did she fully believe she could carry off her disguise for longer than a passing glance but if she didn’t make the attempt… she wasn’t sure what she would do.

“I’ll follow you,” she said to Strong, “if you don’t mind the company.”

Strong smiled and grabbed her shoulder with a squeeze. “Aye,” he said gladly, “a father and son looking for work wouldn’t be out of place. Even if we do look as like we’ve fared a beatin’.”

Cat smiled when he said ‘a father’. The thought warmed her.

“So,” Fletcher said, before downing the last of his ale, “noon we all meet in the ‘The Master’s Arms’. May luck spare our lives.”

Chapter Thirteen
Wanted

Cat looked nervously about the shabby but lively bar room of The Master’s Arms. Strong seemed nothing but a sea of calm and he smiled weakly but he hadn’t spoken since their last rejection; not a ship seemed to be ready to leave port and those that were already had a full complement of seamen. It was only just past noon but their prospects of finding work aboard a ship, and therefore a quick and easy escape, seemed dim.

The tavern was loud and bawdy. Cat watched from their vantage point at the corner bench as the landlady berated her son who sat round-shouldered at a small table. He was hunched over a tankard and looked tired and raggedy, worn thin by her nagging. His mother managed to walk around the bar, serving customers their ale and chatting with them, all the while finding the opportunity to undermine him, call at him to find work, to get out onto the harbour, disappear from her sight, and not return without a bag of coin. But her demands fell on deaf ears; he merely looked down at his tankard, slowly spinning it with his fingers, as her calls vainly continued.

Cat felt for him; she had seen for herself the lack of work. But he wasn’t the only one. Many of the men in the bar she recognised as others who had been refused work from the same men she and Strong had petitioned. It had begun to dawn on her quite early that even without the hue and cry on their tail they would still be having a tough time of it.

The unemployed weren’t the only patrons of the bawdy tavern. There were many women, young and old, both fair and plain, who were interested only in gaining the temporary devotion of the disappointed men.

Cat turned her attention back to their drinkless table. She was fully aware of the opportunities for work available to a woman, especially in a port-town, but as far as she was concerned she was disguised as a boy and she would stay that way. The prospect of being a starving and unemployed young lad appealed far more than being a young woman of… business.

“Sorry to make you wait,” Fletcher said, as he and Tommy slid into the empty chairs at the table. Strong waved a hand as if to say it had been nothing, but Cat had noticed the sweat starting to build on his brow as the clock had crept closer to striking one.

“But we couldn’t come back without news,” Fletcher continued.

“You have something?” Cat asked daring to feel a renewed hope.

“Something,” said Fletcher, his tone was measured and Cat checked her optimism knowing that this may not be the news they were hoping for.

“There is a ship,” Fletcher explained, “it leaves on the next tide and it is desperately short-handed. It’s taking crew indiscriminately, even without references. I believe we can join them if we go today.”

“Well, m’boy, tha’ seems like providence ‘erself!” cried Strong.

“What’s the problem?” Cat asked, all too aware that Fletcher wasn’t sharing everything. Fletcher looked at them both in turn as if weighing up how to proceed. “There are no wages, only a share of the profits.”

“This is not uncommon, no need to be concerned—” Strong rebutted.

“There is no word on what the cargo will be.”

There was quiet around the table.

“But surely if it sails on the next tide someone must know?” said Cat.

“Word has it they are taking ballast into the stronghold, not cargo. They sail for the Americas rather than the coast of Africa so they don’t intend to profit from slaves…”

“It will be a sugar run or a coffee run or both, more likely.”

“Then why the secrecy? There are no coffers or trade items… I spoke to plenty of other men not willing to risk their lives or their pockets on such a venture and… there were whispers of piracy.”

Strong nodded, his face darkened, and his brow furrowed.

“What think you, Cathy?”

She took a deep breath. It was one thing to run but it was quite another to run from the pan to the fire. No ship so far had been willing to take them on and they could barely wait for the morrow on the few farthings they had, let alone the next good tide. Cat knew that desperation made people stupid; she needed time.

Bristol seemed big enough to hide in and they could find work somewhere eventually or find a way to live off the land for a few months, hide, or lay low until word had quietened down. Maybe even go back to Cadogan Bay.

“I think it’s safer to stay here. None of us knows the sea, we don’t know the risks. What of your contacts, Fletch? We can lay low with them for a while then find another ship or hide out till the heat’s off.”

“Aye, I spoke to the landlord of The Black Buoy. He’s a good man to have on our side but he can’t conceal the four of us, leastways not for more than a few hours and… there’s another thing.”

Fletcher and Tommy exchanged a glance. Cat didn’t like that look.

“There’s word on Michael,” Tommy said.

A previously lost hope swelled in Cat’s heart. “Word?” she asked desperately, “What word?”

“They say…” but Tommy’s eyes fell and he was unable to finish.

“It’s as we feared,” Fletcher continued.

Cat swallowed and nodded. She had known in her heart he was gone but the sting of renewed hope brought the pain back. “I still believe our best chance is to stay.”

“It ain’t yours,” Tommy said.

“I said to take care on how to broach this!” Fletcher reprimanded.

“Speak plain, lads,” said Strong.

“They’ve a likeness of you, Cat.”

“Me?” She was astonished. “Who has a likeness? What likeness?”

“It’s all about,” Tommy said, “a good likeness at that! Of you in your… better days. A poster no less! ‘Smuggler’ is what it says ‘Wanted’ is another word. What says you to that?”

Cat was shocked and suddenly terrified at the realisation that she had been wandering around all day, up and down the very streets where her likeness was placed. Any one of the townspeople could have recognised her for the outlaw she was. She was surprised she hadn’t come across the poster herself and suddenly she became very conscious of the busy pub. She slunk down in her seat, trying vainly to conceal her face.

“Why is mine the only likeness?” she hissed as if whispering would make her face unrecognisable.

Strong sighed. “‘Twas likely the only image of any of us they ‘ad… ye had a likeness taken in yer better days, I’ll wager?”

“They weren’t my better days,” she corrected, thinking back to the gilded cage in which she’d been reared like livestock waiting for market, waiting for a fat new friend of her father’s to draw up a contract to take her off her father’s hands. She had been determined to break away from that life and become her own woman. “But yes, I had a likeness taken. One that could be sent to… friends.” She avoided saying ‘prospective husbands’ for no other reason than she knew it would bring back Tommy’s anger at what he saw as the abuse of his brother’s kindness. He had made it clear, on more than one occasion, that he believed their elopement had been no more than a way for Cat to officially estrange herself from her father’s influence. She had never been able to admit to him he was right.

It then dawned on her with sinking certainty that her likeness must have been obtained from her father. There was no other way it could have been distributed so quickly and, despite everything, she was ashamed to think he knew of her current predicament and angry at herself for being ashamed.

“Then you need this escape more ‘an any o’ us,” Tommy said, “if your countenance is seen abroad on the streets then you’ll take the rest of us to the gallows for being associates. I say you get yourself passage aboard this venture an’ let the rest of us be all the safer for your absence.”

“Nay,” Strong was at her defence before she’d even had a chance to react. “I’d be wary enough taking young Cat aboard this vessel with all o’ us at her side. The merchant navy is a bad, bad place for a boy and ‘ell of a place for a woman. If Cathy wants to leave on this ‘ere ship, then I go with her.”

Cat looked away. She didn’t want the others to know that hot tears were swelling in her eyes as this kindly and good friend stood by her. “Now, ye boys are welcome to stay in this town, penniless and outlawed as thee are. But just a’cause they ain’t got yer likeness today it don’t mean they won’t ‘ave it on every alley wall by mornin’. They’re mayn’t be another chance to get aboard a vessel such as this, with such fortuity as this. Fletcher? What sayest thou?”

Fletcher looked down at his hands. He was a different man to the one that had stood so relaxed watching them unload his cargo. He’d been cocksure, and confident. The world had been his to play with as he liked and now the noose was swinging ever closer to his neck.

He thought for a long while before making up his mind and Cat found it interesting to see him ponder his decisions so carefully where others would leap into their choice through gut alone.

“I’m with you,” he said, forcing a half smile at Cat. She hoped he didn’t blame her for their predicament as Tommy did; she wasn’t sure she could carry the weight of his blame as well.

“I s’pose I ain’t got a choice then,” Tommy said with a shrug.

Chapter Fourteen
Jack Strong

Cat looked at herself in the polished mirror and sighed. She pulled the shirt this way and that, certain that anyone that looked could see the rough corset underneath. It was tied as such to hide rather than accentuate her figure. It was the first time in her life she was thankful that she was none too well endowed but, at nearly twenty, she had enough of a figure to warrant suspicion.

For once she was glad for the hours she’d spent in heavy toil because her hands were calloused, her nails were short, and the muscles of her arms were well defined. Any refinement from having been a young lady of leisure had long been hewn away with labouring and she now stood, almost convincing, as a boy of perhaps fourteen or fifteen.

The landlord of the Black Buoy had not let them down. He’d given her a few pairs of his son’s old boots and she’d been able to pick the best fit. Although not perfect they were more convincing than the ladies boots she’d been wearing and, as she slid on the jacket and buttoned it up, she could almost see her femininity disappearing under the disguise.

Except for one last thing.

“Are there any shears about?” she asked, poking her head out of the little room she’d been changing in.

“What’s the delay now? The ship will sail afore we ever reach it!” Tommy shouted as he paced the corridor.

“We don’t have time for tailoring, Lass,” Strong said.

“I need to cut my hair.”

“Nay, that is a sure way for them to know your disguise; most sailin’ lads keep their hair long ‘til they grow a beard, even then don’t get it trimmed. Keep the hair long as a lad would.”

“Are you certain?” Cat went and looked at herself again in the glass. The boots, the breeches, the slightly loose jacket all seemed well and in keeping but her dark hair trailing around her shoulders showed her to be nothing more than a girl playing at ‘boy’.

Strong appeared behind her and handed her a black ribbon.

“‘Tis Fletch’s. Tie your locks as he does and thou’ll be ready.”

She took the ribbon, dubiously tying her hair into a loose knot. She didn’t feel that it changed her countenance much. She sighed deeply and stared at herself with furrowed brow.

“That’ll do, Lad,” Strong said with a smile, patting her shoulder. His confidence reassured her and she decided to simply trust his judgement.

“Are we to be leaving now or playing dress up?” Tommy asked, striding into the room.

“We are to play dress-up a little longer,” said Strong, firmly. “Now, Cathy, take a walk about the room.”

She stared at him, startled, but then did as he said.

He sat and watched for a moment. “Thy stride is dainty for a lad; lay thy foot heavier.”

Cat tried to do as he asked; landing her foot square down on the centre with each footfall.

“Now ye’ve a swagger like a plump duck!” Strong laughed.

She tried to correct herself but only served to make him laugh louder and she gave in, exaggerating her gait for his amusement as she circled the room.

“‘Tis one foot in front of t’other, lass!” he said through his laughter. “How d’you get so jumbled?”

Fletcher came in to see what the raucous was about and stood beside the door, arms folded, sniggering.

“‘Tis just a walk!” Cat said feigning exasperation, “I don’t see the humour in it!”

“I once saw a similar gait to yours,” Fletcher said through chuckles, “I believe t’was in a circus!”

“Fletcher Greaves!” Cat reprimanded as she picked up a cushion and hurled it at him, “May I remind you that you are talking to a lady!”

“Aye, therein lies the problem,” Strong said, calming down, “thy natural walk is too much that of a lady.”

“More like a whore.”

The laughter ceased.

“Watch yer mouth, Tommy,” Strong reprimanded, “there ain’t no need for that.”

But Tommy simply shook his head and left the room, tired of the game and tired of the laughter. Cat felt a pang of guilt shoot through her like a shard of glass.

How could she be laughing? How could she be enjoying life when barely a day had passed since Michael had fallen? He may not yet be in the ground and when he was it would be no more than a pauper’s grave. With no family thereabouts to see him well done by, he would have the grave of a criminal, unmarked and unmourned. She wasn’t by his side where a wife should be but instead, she was laughing and joking as she made her bid to escape. An escape that could only be made because Michael had sacrificed himself to protect her.

“I can mimic a lad’s walk,” Cat said quietly. “What of the voice?”

“Your voice is fair,” Fletcher agreed, his merriment gone cold, “but I’ve heard many a young lad with fairer. We’ll call you a lad of no more than fifteen and the voice will suit it well enough. T’is the manner of your words you’ll need to watch, is that not so, John?”

“Aye, Cathy, forget thy learning,”

Cat wondered how she was supposed to even begin to do that.

“Stick to ‘aye’s and ‘thy’s,” Strong continued, “and lose a little of that bearing. T’is good to be noble and strong, it suits ye well and makes others follow thy lead no question but t’will not suit a lad not yet of age. Glance to me afore ye give answer to any questions and be thought a fool and a faithful dog rather than betray thyself.”

Cat nodded and hoped she could take in everything he was saying.

“Aye, a faithful dog,” Fletcher agreed, “think yourself no longer ‘Cat’ think yourself a dog.”

Cat laughed a little. It was good advice; she could imagine herself humble and faithful when she thought of herself as John Strong’s loyal sheepdog.

“Aye, and a dog needs a name…” Strong said.

Immediately Cat thought of Michael; it would be a way of honouring him, of taking him with her but it also felt a little like an insult to his memory by having her criminality concealed with his good name.

“Jack?” Fletcher suggested.

“Jack…” Strong mused over the name, “Cat to Cathy, Jack to Jackie, aye,” he said, “at a shout, it’ll turn thy head quick enough. T’is close enough to fool thy head into thinking it thy own.”

“Jack,” Cat said rolling the name around her mouth. She would have to live and breathe that name if she were to convince her new shipmates that it was the name given to her since birth.

“Jack Strong. Son of Jonathan Strong, what think you on’t?”

“Strong?” she asked, a little surprised, “surely we cannot use ‘Strong’, should we not change your name as well?”

John started to laugh. Fletcher looked at him, just as bemused as Cat, but John continued to roar a great barrelling belly laugh. He pounded on the arm of his wooden, throne-like chair and threw his head back.

“Change my name!” John managed to utter through his heavy laughter then he coughed and began to regain some of his composure, “Ah lass, I s’pose ye know no different. I guess I musta been ‘Strong’ to thee since the day ye came skipping down to the village from that manor o’ yours but I ain’t Strong anymore ‘an you is ‘Jack’. My name’s Miller, always ‘as been. I earned the name Strong on account of me bein’ well… strong.” He began to chuckle again.

“Oh,” Cat replied suddenly feeling rather foolish. It had always seemed fitting that such a giant of a strong-man owned such a moniker but she never thought to question it being his true name.

“Nay lass, well laddie from now on, I’ll ‘ave to watch meself on that count, nay laddie, Strong is a good enough name it bein’ both false enough to keep us hid and true enough for us to keep to.”

“Henry Fletcher,” Fletcher said suddenly, “No one is to know that ‘Fletcher’ is my Christian name so I shall respond to it well enough and Henry is my brother’s name so it is familiar to me. I will speak to Tommy on his choice but for now, we ought to leave lest we find the ship with an assigned crew, and us with no chance of escape.”

As Fletcher left, Cat felt her stomach twist into a knot. Until he’d said it was time to leave, the thought of dressing up and gaining work aboard a ship had seemed far away; no more than a game or story but once she was reminded that their task was imminent she could suddenly see every possible danger in it.

Strong must have noticed the change in her as he stood and laid a hand on her shoulder as she looked up at him.

“I and thy shall go abroad side by side; don’t think on this as a lonesome task.”

She nodded and followed him from the room and onto the street below. Fletcher was already there with Tommy, sharing the last of a pipe and talking in low voices. Cat felt she must have been the subject of their conference for they fell silent as soon they saw her.

“Tom and I shall go separate,” Fletcher said, “two more lonely sailors seeking work will not be out of order but four together may sound alarms.”

“Aye,” said Strong with a nod, “‘speshly if word of the number in our company has gone abroad alongside Cat’s likeness.”

Cat noticed Tommy glance at her at these words. She wanted to hate him for the constant blame and odium he launched in her direction but instead, he filled her with guilt and she struggled to hold his eye.

“Tommy and I shall go abroad as weathered seamen,” Fletcher continued, “for Tommy, this won’t be such an untruth, what with his summers spent fishing but for me, it is an utter falsehood. I know nothing of ports and starboards… I’m making a gamble of being a quick study or at least being too far out to sea to lose my position afore anyone sees how unfit I am for duty. What of you, John?”

“I shall not lie. I can say the boy is fresh-faced and green but eager and as for mine own self, well… I can be ship’s carpenter or cook and turn my hand to a fair few things between.”

Fletcher nodded, Tommy finished the pipe and they all stood nervously together in their little group for a long moment.

“If one is rejected…?” Tommy didn’t need to finish his question for the others to understand his meaning.

Although Cat had thought the same thing herself she was surprised that it was Tommy asking whether they intended to stay together no matter what. For one brief moment, Cat wanted to throw her arms around her brother-in-law’s young shoulders and swear that she would always stay by his side but it was Strong who answered first.

“They get’s left,” he said. Cat was shocked by his callousness, “This may be the only chance we get so if only one of us makes it aboard ship then g’luck to ‘em, I say. No point ‘em stayin’ back to be loyal when there ain’t no advan’age to either side.”

Fletcher nodded grimly, as did Cat. In truth, she wouldn’t want any of them to stay back and lose their lives out of loyalty if her guise was seen through.

“So,” said Fletcher, “we separate here and now for good unless luck joins us aboard ship.”

“Good luck then,” Cat said knowing it may well be the last time she saw any of them alive.

She couldn’t bear to hold the moment any longer so she turned and headed down to the harbour, glancing back only for a moment to see the others shake hands. Then they turned to follow her toward their fate.

Chapter Fifteen
Quartermaster

The great ship loomed closer as the two of them weaved in between horses, carts, dockers, and sailors bustling along the waterfront. A few women gathered here and there propositioning the odd sailor or dock worker as they passed. Suddenly Cat was grabbed by the waist and spun around, getting a face full of gin and perfume.

“Yer a pretty lad ain’t ya,” the woman whispered.

“Not today, Lassie,” Strong said, prising Cat from the woman’s grasp and continuing their journey.

As soon as they were out of earshot Cat spat in disgust, “I’d rather die than become a—”

“Then let’s ‘ope you ain’t ever offered the choice, eh?” Strong replied quickly.

He looked down at her with a mixture of warning and sympathy. Her disgust immediately replaced with guilt as she realised that must be the very choice these women made each morning.

They walked on in silence. Cat was keeping even closer to Strong’s side as more and more she realised that, outside of Cadogan Bay, she was truly lost.

As they made their way through the throng and toward the great beast of a ship Fletcher had pointed out to them, Cat could make out the name scrawled in high, dainty, white-blue lettering: Sea Nymph. It seemed such a delicate name for such a great and imposing vessel and the closer they came to boarding her the more Cat felt out of her depth. She pulled at John’s arm.

“Are you certain of this?” she asked desperately.

“Certain,” he replied.

He turned away from her to stride up the gangplank and was greeted by two sailors on their way out.

“There’s nowt good in that ship,” one of them said to John.

“There’ll be bad usage aboard, you mark my words,” the other warned. Both were weathered seamen far older than Cat though not yet having reached the grand age of whitening hair and wrinkles that Strong had hit. He looked at them and nodded politely.

“I’ll take thy warning with thanks, Gents.” Strong tugged his forelock, smiled warmly and beckoned Cat to follow him aboard. She picked up her pace and passed the two seadogs with her head down lest they notice a trace of femininity and call her out.

Her stomach swirled with nerves. She hadn’t felt this out-of-place since her coming out ball, a mortifying ritual suffered by every young woman of status when she is officially introduced to society at a ball. Most young women share the evening with a group of girls, Cat was forced to endure a ball entirely dedicated to her own introduction to the tedium of high society. It was there that she had first been placed in front of the suitors her father had found for her. The evening had been excruciating from beginning to end.

But even then, there hadn’t been the threat of death upon her head; merely the risk of social exclusion (which many of the young aristocratic women seemed to think was a worse fate than death, by far).

As they walked across the deck, Fletcher came toward them and gave a short curt nod that communicated his success. He passed them without any further acknowledgement and Cat watched as he fixed his cap then strode off the ship making a good show of having goodbyes to say or going to collect his belongings for the journey ahead. Cat was relieved for him but she desperately wanted to ask him what had been said, or how she might also convince the Captain of his need to have her amongst his crew but instead she was forced to wait in ignorant silence as man after man went in and then left the Captain’s office.

She couldn’t see Tommy anywhere but did notice three other young lads of around fourteen. They would be her new peers. As Strong had promised they wore their hair long. The first was thickly built, stocky, with reddish cheeks, skin full of freckles and thick, curling red hair, he laughed loudly as he talked with the other boys. The second lad was much smaller, with spindly legs and arms, he appeared no more than ten or so and Cat could barely believe he was looking for work; so like a mouse he was with light brown hair and dark eyes, ears that jutted out the sides of his head like handles on a jug, and a toothy grin. The third lad was fair-haired, light-skinned and the tallest of the three. His long hair fell down his back and was tied in a knot the same way as Cat’s now was. He was narrow as if his muscles had not yet caught up with his height. His fair skin was clear and his full lips were cherry red, Cat could almost see how Shakespeare’s boys were able to play Desdemona or Ophelia, those great and tragic heroines because this lad’s narrow height and youthful fair face could easily convince an audience of his femininity. For the first time since she had agreed to this plan, Cat was relieved. She felt as though she might just be able to maintain her mask of boyhood, at least for as long as the interview.

At that moment, a rugged, square-jawed, balding man emerged from the Captain’s office and glanced around before settling on Strong and beckoning to him in a strong Glaswegian accent.

“You,” he said.

John nodded and Cat took a deep breath and followed dutifully behind.

The Captain’s office was lit by just two candles, leaving most of the small, low-ceilinged room in shadow. The curtains were drawn across the vast window at the rear, as well as the few small windows along either side. It was filled to the brim with dark wood furnishings and red cloth. Brass instruments were scattered here and there, along with copious quantities of paper, both loose leafed and tied in bundles or scrolls, and there were large pieces of parchment folded over several times to make smaller pieces which were then held down by weights.

“More for ye, Sir,” the Scotsman said.

Seated at the vast desk placed in the centre of the room, with sheaves of paper scattered about in front of him, was a man with a neat powdered wig and wearing the immaculate officer’s uniform consisting of a fitted blue dress coat, its rows of brass buttons shining in the candle light, a clean white shirt with its neatly folded cravat at his neck, and his tricorn hat which lay on the desk to his right. “Thank you, Glenister,” he replied but didn’t look up. Instead, he worked at his papers, dipping the quill tip in ink and scribbling down a neat column of numbers. The scratching of pen nib against paper continued for a few long moments before John spoke.

“Captain—”

“I am the Quartermaster. My name is Kingsley. You will refer to me as ‘Master Kingsley’ or ‘Sir’ do you understand?”

“Aye, Sir,” Strong said firmly.

“You are come about the position?” It seemed odd to Cat that he should speak as though there was only one position available when she knew they were desperate for all the crew they could get.

“Aye, Sir.”

“What experience have you?” He continued to write and barely moved his eyes from the paper as he hurled questions. Cat felt Strong managed the situation superbly: he outlined his experience moving only just beyond the realm of truth, for Strong really had kept a mason workshop in Cadogan Bay and had also been the man to go to with any joinery or woodwork that needed doing. Cat had known him to work on all the fishing vessels at one time or another and felt certain that he would be able to take the position as carpenter’s mate.

However, the more Strong spoke of himself the more nervous Cat grew. She began to realise that the Quartermaster had not even noticed her and any moment he would look up and see her standing there. Even in the candlelight, he would see her for what she was immediately. He would demand to know why a woman had been brought aboard and why he had been so insulted. He may even recognise her countenance from one of her posters and have her thrown into the town gaol. She’d be locked in chains before sunset. Any second now he would look up, any second now her disguise would be seen through, any second now their desperate charade would be over.

“Aye, Sir, but not the lad.”

Cat glanced at Strong desperately. He’d done it. He had made her known and she wished desperately that he could take back his announcement of her. Perhaps she could run. Cat glanced behind her to see how far it was to the door but to her dismal dismay, the Scotsman who had beckoned them in stood in her way, paying no heed to her desperate situation.

“Can you climb rope, Boy?!” the Quartermaster barked suddenly.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned back to see him staring at her. She panicked, certain that he was about to demand who she was and why she was there.

“Answer me, Boy!” Master Kingsley yelled the question and stood at his desk, leaning over it with both fists on the table as if he were readying himself to leap over it. She opened and closed her mouth certain that although her face had not betrayed her, her voice would.

“I will not stand for insolence, Boy! Answer a simple question!” Master Kingsley strode the few feet around the desk toward her. Moving in closer, he stopped just a few inches from her face. She could feel his hot breath against her skin and it was all she could do to avoid showing her disgust at the rank stench of thirst and tobacco. She stared at him, trying to speak, trying to make her mouth move but nothing came out.

“Don’t be shy, m’lad, tell the man.” John’s calm voice felt like a rush of fire melting her icy panic allowing her choking throat to open.

“Aye,” she managed. To her great relief, Kingsley seemed satisfied. But only for a moment.

He looked her up and down slowly, “How many hours a day have you worked, Boy?”

“F-fourteen,” Cat answered.

“You’ll not get off so light on this ship, Boy! What weight can you lift?” Suddenly he grabbed her arm and squeezed the muscle. Instinctively she threw him off and immediately regretted the action.

“What’s this!” Kingsley shouted, “An unruly child too wild to be touched?”

“The lad ain’t accustomed—” Strong stammered.

“The lad will have to get accustomed if he is to be a member of this crew!”

“I’m sorry, Sir—” Cat, spluttered.

“And the lad will have to learn not to speak until he is spoken to! Do you hear?”

Strong nodded emphatically. “He’ll feel the rough end of me belt if he don’t, Sir, don’t you worry.”

Kingsley nodded at this and looked once again at Cat.

“How much?”

Cat stared at him open mouthed.

“How much can you lift, Boy?” he snapped angrily, “Are you foolish as well as wild?”

“No, Sir,” Cat shook her head quickly and desperately tried to think how much one of the kegs had weighed then doubled it, “seventy pounds, sir.”

Kingsley stared at her a moment longer then nodded his head, finally satisfied.

“I shall keep my eye on you, Boy,” warned the Quartermaster, spitting the words as if they tasted rotten in his mouth, “I am not beyond tossing insubordinate whelks into the Atlantic, do you hear?”

Cat was astounded he would make such a threat to a young man in front of his father but she nodded curtly and averted her eyes, unable to stand his gaze much longer. But he seemed to grow tired of their encounter and went back to his chair to resume his quill scratching.

“You may leave,” he said without looking up, “gather all you need and be back within the hour.”

They turned and left. Cat almost ran out before he could change his mind. She felt exhilarated that she had made it through the interview. The Quartermaster had been just a few inches from her face and yet he had been deceived. He had grabbed hold of her arm and yet he had been deceived. She had deceived him so utterly that she almost laughed at the game of it but managed to keep quiet. The thought of his hearing her mockery and putting her into the sea before they had even left port was all too much.

Both Cat and Strong did their best to keep a countenance of stone as they crossed the deck and left the ship by the gangplank. But once back on the harbour it was all too much to keep in.

“A sailor now ye are!” Strong said jubilantly as he patted her hard on the back, almost taking the wind out of her lungs with his exuberance.

“Would you ever have believed it!?” she asked.

“Aye! Ye have a natural talent for maskery, ye could have been a player. But ye doubt thyself too much. Watch that temper though, Jack. I’ve no doubt he meant his threat.”

Hearing him call her ‘Jack’ felt strange but she knew it was best that even in their own company they keep to it especially so close to the vessel they were about to sail out on.

“I didn’t expect him to grab me. I couldn’t help—”

“Thee will ‘ave to ‘help it’, Laddie!” His tone startled her. “This is too dangerous a game to be playing for you to keep those types of habit. All our necks are on the line.”

Cat nodded. She didn’t have the words to reassure him and didn’t know how she was supposed to prevent her instinctive reactions or how she was going to forget her learning, forget her voice, forget her manner, forget everything about herself and become someone else.

She had so much to hide.

She envied the men their freedom to walk about as themselves. Even now when the hue and cry was up and the Revenue Men were after them still they walked abroad as themselves. Only a false name to their face but they kept their sex, their voice, their walk, their words… yet every aspect of herself was to be hidden so deeply that she felt even her thoughts were not to be her own.

Cat looked up at the Sea Nymph. Aboard that vessel, she was to be Jack. She just wished she knew who he was.

Chapter Sixteen
The Sailors’ Adieu

A fresh, salty offshore breeze tugged at the washing newly hung out to dry, echoing the billowing sails fluttering from their masts. Returning to the harbour after an hour of laying low, Cat was surprised to see the waterfront even busier than before. The squawking of gulls, screams of children playing, and the laughter and shouts of the men and women of the port mixed with the calls of stall holders selling their wares. The smells of hot stew and cider mingled with the scent of spices and tea from cargo. Sailors in their patched-up coats pushed barrows carrying sea chests and sacks towards the waters’ edge, wheeling and ducking out of the way of horses and running children. Officers in their smart pressed uniforms exited carriages, tipping their driver before making their way haphazardly through the chaos to their new posts.

Out on a low jetty two rugged men, dressed in no more than their shirts and loose trousers, were lifting a laughing woman, her many skirts flapping in the wind, into one of the small rowboats before setting off to one of the ships docked further out in the bay. A one-legged sailor, with a light but unkempt beard and a once handsome uniform now tired, dirty and torn, scraped away at a fiddle and his tune rose high above the din of dogs and men.

Tapering flags streamed from the Sea Nymph’s mastheads and the fore-topsail was being raised.

“Tha’s the signal she’s leavin’,” Strong said. “We best be getting’ a move on.”

Cat followed as he picked up the pace, swerving this way and that through the jostling crowd. She tried to keep her head down as she followed Strong’s zigzagging through the crowds of sailors, their women, and their children running this way and that as they all said their goodbyes.

The Sea Nymph wasn’t the only ship readying for departure on the high tide and the docks were in a chaos of dogs, luggage, last minute cargo, and the burbling noise of a thousand voices. It was a blessed relief to finally get their feet aboard ship and Cat was relieved to see Tommy deep in conversation with two other men. He didn’t notice her but nodded courteously as he caught a glance from Strong, Cat was sure Tommy was pleased to see them, although none betrayed a shadow of acquaintance.

Cat cast her eye around the ship, seeking sign of Fletcher. Although he had given signal of his acceptance anything might have happened since then and it had occurred to her that he may have given false signal simply to keep their spirits up. She would be anxious for his safety until she saw him aboard in the flesh. As she glanced around, attempting to be surreptitious in her looks, she did notice many of the same sailors she had seen at her interview but there was no sign of Fletcher.

The Quartermaster stood on the main deck glaring down at the rambunctious new crew. He was firm faced with a curl at his lip as if the sight before him caused mild distaste. Cat had known there was little chance of his sudden disappearance but it was still a great disappointment to be reminded of his presence.

To Cat’s surprise, a young woman stood at Master Kingsley’s side. She looked the same age as Cat but fair, with hair that fell in golden ringlets around a proud face that looked over the crew rather than at them. She was not dressed for a sea voyage, but rather seemed ready for an afternoon in the park. She wore a large-brimmed, pale blue hat with several plush white feathers tied with a ribbon at the crown, a white frill-edged shawl was crisscrossed over her bodice and tied with blue ribbons at her waist, her large skirts were blue and white striped silk, and although it was a cool enough day she did not have a cloak. Cat knew how expensive those silks and laces were; she wondered how many hours the young woman had stood at her wardrobe deciding what to wear and how to display her wealth to the ragtag lowly crew. Cat carefully sidled behind another crewman. With her ill-fitting boys’ clothes, bruised face, and unwashed hair and body, Cat was suddenly ashamed of how she appeared, a shame she hadn’t felt since she was last at a ball. She wondered what this woman was doing aboard a ship, if she had ever been aboard one before, or if she was simply the consort of an officer or a rich passenger.

Cat smirked as she imagined this girl stomping her foot and demanding she go to sea, perhaps the Captain sighed heavily and gave in to her petulant wishes, perhaps she was his young wife or daughter. Cat expected that she wanted to be pampered with the finest foods and sleep on the plushest of beds while the rest of the crew made do with gruel and whatever space they found to rest their head.

Staring at this woman, with her fine blue silks, and her absurdly large hat, Cat was reminded of everything she had ever hated, everything she had escaped from when she eloped with Michael, and everything she was determined to never have in her life again. Cat knew she would never marry again, she would never be a man’s property, and she would certainly never dress herself up like a birthday gift.

The young woman’s lips echoed the same distaste for everyone beneath her that Kingsley’s demonstrated and together the two of them appeared to be the high and mighty King and Queen of the shambolic chaos on the deck below.

In that moment, there was nothing Cat wanted more than to see the both of them dragged from their lofty status and put in their true place with the rats.

Suddenly there was a tap on her arm and Cat swirled around to see Fletcher, a smile upon his lips. It took all her strength to resist the urge to throw her arms about him in relief and instead she had to maintain their deception.

“Aye, Sir?” she asked.

“Over there,” Fletcher said, pointing to the very same group of three young lads Cat had noticed last time she had been aboard. They were already at work on the lines and Cat realised the time had come for her to prove her mettle. She took a deep breath and nodded to Fletcher before running across the deck, avoiding boxes, crates, and chaos as best she could then introduced herself to the other young lads.

“Jack Strong,” she said quickly, and thrust out a hand to the tall, fair-headed lad she thought fair enough to play a tragic heroine.

“I’m Toby Davies,” he said, shaking her hand with a friendly vigour, “You sailed afore?”

Cat shook her head. She intended to avoid speech at all costs; she would rather be taken for bashful than let the truth be discovered.

Davies shook his head and sighed. “Seems as I’m the only one!” he remarked and Cat was relieved that she wouldn’t stand out for her lack of experience at least.

“Do as I do,” he said and then, to her amazement, he hopped onto the deck rail barefoot and shot nimbly up the rigging as if it were no more than a flight of steps.

Full of trepidation, Cat pulled off her boots and grabbed hold of a line of rigging. Unsteadily, she clambered onto the side of the ship where the eager waves churned below her. She closed her eyes for a moment.

Suddenly the memory of her last climb flashed before her. That fateful cliff scramble out of the bay as she had run for her life, the sound of shots ringing out across the beach, and the sight of fresh death in her mind. She felt herself sway and opened her eyes. She couldn’t lose herself in the past. She was determined it would not weaken her. If she could climb that sheer rock face in heavy, waterlogged clothes, and high-heeled boots then she could damn well climb rigging in the wake of a barefoot boy.

With renewed determination, she cast her eyes upwards and tried to ignore the swell beneath. The lad, Davies, was already twenty feet above her and busy at the lines. He was no doubt impatient for support.

Cat heaved herself upward. The breeze whistled around her, she could hear the gulls screeching anxiously, and see the horizon stretching out a thousand leagues before her.

Suddenly it began to sink in: as one journey was about to start it meant her previous journey was over. There was not a Revenue Man in sight. No one had discovered them and no one was there to prevent the ship from setting sail.

Her escape was over and her freedom was about to begin.

Chapter Seventeen
Green About The Gills

The Quartermaster stood at Lily’s side delivering his speech.

She assumed it was meant to be a rousing speech, a speech to inspire the new crew as they set off on a voyage they all knew would be a long and difficult. However, Master Kingsley seemed to have a particular skill of making even the phrase ‘good, morning,’ sound like a threat and she struggled to conceal her disgust at his treatment of those below him.

Lily wondered how anyone managed to stand such treatment, let alone a strong crew of fifty who could clearly overthrow him at any moment should they choose to.

She glanced across the quarterdeck to Captain Brindle, wondering what he thought of the manner in which his crew were being addressed. But he betrayed no thoughts, merely smiling emphatically as he stared into the middle distance and stroked a plump belly that threatened to pop open the shining buttons on his waistcoat. He was a short man, barely taller than Lily in her heels and far shorter than the overbearing Kingsley, even with his puffed-up, powered wig and tricorn hat perched perfectly on the centre of his head, he only came up to the Quartermaster’s nose.

He had almost been worse to deal with than the tyrant Kingsley. When she sat down with him to discuss their route she had found him to be a blustering, bumbling man fond of tangents and the sound of his own ramblings. Although if there was one thing he seemed to hate even more than listening to his equals it was dealing with his inferiors.

It was left to the Quartermaster to be solely responsible for dealing with the crew and anyone could easily have mistaken him for a Captain, except for when he dealt with the officers. Kingsley was lower in rank than the other uniformed officers and was forced to refer to each of them as ‘Sir’, Lily felt as though he spat the word each time he uttered it. He appeared fond of no one bar his loyal second, the Boatswain, Glenister; a well-muscled, Scotsman whose countenance was so livid that Lily wondered if the hair from his balding crown had been terrified into quitting his head.

Master Kingsley finished his speech and the crew obediently gave three loud but underwhelming ‘huzzahs’ before immediately starting to rush here and there about the ship, readying the Sea Nymph for departure. A few deep, clear voices rang out orders unfamiliar to Lily’s ear and, almost imperceptibly, the ship began to rock. Lily closed her eyes and grabbed the deck rail with one hand to steady herself as the great ship rolled after being freed from dock. It would take her a little while to regain her sea-legs.

A few low voices began to sing and, after a couple bars, it seemed the whole crew had taken up with the song. It was a tune that Lily had never heard before and yet the melody sailed over her and she found comfort in focusing on the tune.

“So, my dear it seems we are all set.” Suddenly Captain Brindle placed a hand upon Lily’s arm. She turned to him, startled that he should be so over familiar with her. He smiled broadly and, to her dismay, there was the distinct aroma of rum about the man, almost as if he stood within a cloud of it. She wanted to reprimand him and remind him of his position but she knew that there would be little to gain from discussing anything with someone already thick with drink and she hoped it was simply a celebration of the ship’s departure.

“Indeed,” she replied and moved away slightly to ensure his hand was forced to slide from her. She looked to the horizon, hoping that if she focused on something steady she would prevent the queasiness from taking over.

“And such a fine day for it!” he said, turning his eyes to the sky to admire the view, in doing so his neat powdered wig slid backwards slightly on his head. Lily glanced at him but immediately forced her eyes away and bit her lip to prevent what was sure to be an outburst of laughter. She silently prayed for his wig and hat not to fall from his head completely as the last thing she wanted was for the journey to begin on a farcical debacle that the whole crew would witness.

“Indeed,” she repeated, having no other words to supply him with but feeling certain that in his jovial mood he would not notice her lack of engagement.

The ship reared slightly as it came about and Lily’s knuckles turned white as her grip on the deck became firmer. She was starting to remember that the slow but continuous barrelling and rolling of the ship easing out of harbour was far more torturous to her stomach than any tempest could ever be.

“You know this reminds me of my first voyage,” the Captain began, “summer of sixteen ninety-two it was… or was it ninety-four?”

‘Oh, dear Lord,’ thought Lily. She couldn’t bear to sit through another story. Not now. Not while this ship reeled about the harbour at this slumberous pace and his wig perched on his balding head at that unfortunate angle.

“Well, it has been an absolute pleasure, Captain,” she cut in quickly, “but I really must confine myself to my cabin. Too much sunlight on a lady’s skin is not good for the complexion, you know.”

“Of course, of course!” he blustered and she smiled politely as she turned to leave the deck.

She caught Kingsley’s eye and was worried that he may come over to her but to her great relief he merely nodded and turned his eye back to the crew, unflinchingly maintaining his post.

‘At least he seems professional,’ she thought, ‘even if he is… firm.’

She had thought the same when she first encountered him in the busy little coffee house. It was just moments after her hopes had been dashed by Captain Yates. Kingsley had approached her politely as she stared dismally at the cooling black liquid in her cup. Although she didn’t warm to him, he did appear to know precisely what he was doing.

“I couldn’t help but notice your unhappy conversation, Miss,” he’d said. “Is there any way I may be of service?”

“Not unless you have a ship, a crew and the supplies for a voyage to the Spanish Main,” she’d replied.

He had then slid into the chair opposite her and, placing his hat on the table, said with sincerity: “My name is Edward Kingsley. I am the Quartermaster of a ship in want of a cargo… if you have a cargo in want of a ship then perhaps we can be of service to one another?”

Lily looked at him, studying his narrow, pointed features and hoping to glean some detail of his sincerity but his face was blank as a master at poker.

“I do have a cargo…” she replied carefully, “a cargo which is in need of collection. Payment for this collection will be made only once I have the cargo in my possession.”

Kingsley nodded firmly. “Then it appears we are to be mutually advantageous,” he said, “If you provide me with the details of where your cargo may be retrieved I could take my ship—”

“I intend to collect the cargo myself,” she replied firmly, “without disclosing its exact location until absolutely necessary.”

Kingsley narrowed his eyes slightly. “A ship is no place for a woman, Miss. Not only are there many hardships aboard but the crew simply wouldn’t have it; a woman aboard ship is bad luck.”

“Nonsense,” Lily replied. Kingsley was taken aback by her simple ferocity. “Women daily take passage aboard ship. Unless you mean to tell me that they all walk across the sea?”

He nodded but said nothing and Lily felt as though perhaps there was very little he could do for her after all. She remembered the words of Captain Yates warning her of the type of Captain that would agree to her request. Resigned to her bad luck she stood and thanked Kingsley for his time before turning to leave.

“If you insist upon passage then I would grant your request, of course, but I would also remind you of the hardships you would no doubt face.”

Lily stopped and turned back to him, her curiosity piqued. “Well,” she said carefully, “I would also insist upon sealed orders; only essential details given as needed,”

“I understand,” he replied.

“And you have a trustworthy crew that would be willing to take on such a journey?”

“I would hire only such a crew.”

“I have heard,” she said slowly, “that it would be impossible to have such a voyage insured?”

Kingsley laughed and his change of demeanour startled her.

“Forgive me, Miss…?”

“Exquemelin,”

“Miss Exquemelin.” To her surprise, he pronounced her name perfectly and without hesitation and as a result she couldn’t help but allow her estimation of him grow. “But there are some men who would call themselves ‘Captains’ who rely, in totality, on a guarantee of safety from a man who grows fat on the profits of false promise.”

Lily listened with interest as he continued.

“It is true that there are many dangers out to sea but a hefty payment to a coffee-drinking bureaucrat will never assure the safety of crew or cargo. Only the skill of the officers and the training of the men can do that. And if a man were to lose his ship, his cargo, and his crew, yet somehow keep his life and return to the coffee house in which the agreement was signed, well then I am certain he would lose every penny he was owed in the hiring of lawyers to wring blood from the particular stone whose contract he was fool enough to sign.”

Lily didn’t like this man’s presumptuous dismissal of everything that Captain Yates had expounded upon and yet she couldn’t quite disagree with what Kingsley was saying. She also didn’t like his eagerness to take her contract and yet she couldn’t wait for up to two weeks for passage with Captain Yates as she simply had nowhere to live and not a friend she trusted to go to. She was temporarily paralysed with uncertainty. She didn’t know if she should investigate further or simply leave.

Suddenly Kingsley stood. “But if you are not interested, Miss Exquemelin, then, I wish you well.” He smiled broadly and picked up his hat from the table. “Time and tide wait for no man.” He bowed slightly and turned to the door. He was only three steps from leaving when Lily called after him.

“When could you be ready to go?” she asked.

He stopped and turned slowly, appearing to consider her question. “It will take a good while to gather the supplies and a few good crewmen… we also have to consider the tide.”

Lily’s heart sank as he continued. Even this desperate hope would be out of her reach; she was foolish to have ever believed her journey could be straightforward. She realised that travelling halfway across the world was not something which could be acted upon in an afternoon.

“We would have to wait until tomorrow before we could set sail,” he finished.

Lily looked at him, startled.

“Tomorrow?” she confirmed.

He nodded.

“You are confident of this?”

“Of course,” he replied and he seemed a little annoyed at her doubt.

She was torn in two.

She could go tomorrow. Tomorrow would be perfect. She would finalise the business with the house and then leave the country without so much as a single day of uncertainty. She could set sail. She could go after her father’s inheritance and her troubles would be gone. She could live out the rest of her life without worrying where she would be next week. Suddenly, Lily had the chance to write her own future, she would never have to depend on the kindness of others or consider the hand of a man she didn’t love. She could be completely independent, travel the world, and maybe, just maybe, she could find people, or just a person, with whom she could be happy.

But was tomorrow too soon?

She had only just met this man. This man who appeared to her at just the right time and saying just the right thing, contradicting everything that Captain Yates had been so sure of... but then she had come looking for someone to take her on this voyage so it wasn’t as if he had knocked on her door like a suspicious peddler selling contraband…

Lily couldn’t bring herself to speak, unable to have both yes and no simultaneously; she was struck dumb.

“Should I prepare the ship, ma’am?”

“Yes,” the word slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. Kingsley nodded and left but as he did so Lily had a terrible feeling that she had made the wrong choice. Captain Yates’ warning came back to her and she wanted to call out to Kingsley to tell him she had changed her mind but he was already gone.

It was then that she decided perhaps a little ‘insurance’ may be no bad thing, and she set out that moment to acquire it.

Now, a full day later, Lily looked over to Edward Kingsley in the bright happy afternoon sunlight. A promising breeze filled the sails as they unfurled and the sound of the crew’s song carried on the air yet Lily still wondered if she had made the right choice.

Despite the initial reassurances of the Quartermaster, the officers had indeed wanted more information about where they are going, what kind of cargo they were collecting, and how they were to go about fetching it. She had struggled to manage the questions from the first and second officers. However, Captain Brindle had done a decent job of feigning disinterest but now Lily wasn’t sure if this was a masterful plan to dissuade inquiries or simply due to the quantity of alcohol he had imbued.

Without the secret of the map and its code, Lily knew she would have no protection against the will of this crew. They may currently demonstrate their good intention but without knowing more of their character she had no way of guaranteeing they wouldn’t simply put her off the ship and take her treasure for themselves the moment she handed the map over. She remembered all her father’s warnings to hold her cards close to her chest, and now she could see the danger in not following his words.

Lily shook her head, trying to dismiss her concerns before she made her way below deck, locking the door of her little room behind her. There was not a maid in the world who would accept living quarters of this diminutive size, let alone a woman of status. It always did her good to be reminded what people on land take for granted each day.

As the ship pitched and rolled she poured herself a stiff brandy from the decanter on the small sideboard and knocked it back quickly. But then all she could manage was to slide onto the bed and hold on tight to prevent from rolling onto the floor. She lay, staring at the ceiling, listening to the low rumble of men’s voices carried through the beams and the sound of the crashing waves against the side of the ship, pierced by the odd shriek of a gull.

She felt at home on board and yet at the same time she felt so far away from it.

She breathed deeply and wished she hadn’t been forced to make this decision. It had been a bad decision. She knew that. But then she couldn’t have faced the prospect of any of the other options open to her either.

Lily closed her eyes and hoped to sleep through as much of the journey as possible.

PART II: THE SEA NYMPH

Chapter Eighteen
A Sea Farers’ Life

All day, there were no breaks.

By the time Cat descended below deck, at the end of her duties, it was getting dark. She was almost dizzy with hunger and thirst, her hands and feet were red raw from the rough hemp, and her head felt as though the whole North wind had blown through it.

Blindly, she followed the other crewmen, not thinking where she was going but following the heat of a warm fire and the smell of a hot stew. Suddenly, John was at her side.

“Where you been at, Laddie?” The warmth of his bearded smile and his eyes shining in the light of the flames were a sweet comfort that swept through her bones.

“I don’t know,” Cat slurred, drunk with exhaustion. John chuckled and pulled her from the line heading toward the front.

“I’m Chief Carpenter, Laddie, that means I’m a Deck Officer, no son o’ an officer joins the line,” he told her warmly, the smell of the stew was beginning to overwhelm her and at the far end of the deck, she could now see the man responsible.

He was tall, hunched over in the small space and stirring the cooking pot over an open fire. His red shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal his thick, hairy arms, the hair on his head was the same dark shade, greying at the edges of his hairline and tied in a mixture of braids all pulled into a ponytail running down his back. He was a giant of a man to rival John and the two greeted each other as if they were old friends.

“This is ma boy,” John said, pushing her forward. “Jack, this man is Bartholomew Hood, you get caught stealin’ rations it’s him you answer to.”

John chuckled at his own suggestion but Cat baulked. Hood was made more devilish by the fire lighting him from underneath like a demon standing over a hell-fire. His black beard was speckled with white, but neatly kept, his dark eyes glinted in the firelight and when he grinned at Cat his teeth were brown from chewing tobacco, except one canine that glinted gold.

He looked her up and down then reached out a great hand with which he crushed one of her own.

“Boy, is it?” he said, barely above a growled whisper, “Don’t worry, Jack, you be good an’ old Bartholomew Hood’ll watch out fer ya.”

A small bowl of stew and a chunk of bread were thrust into her hands along with a tankard of weak ale, Cat glanced behind her as John led her away but Hood was back to his serving duties.

“What does he know?” Cat asked John as they sat down on the floor in a far corner of the crowded deck.

“A man like that?” John said, sipping his ale, “A man like that knows everythin’.”

Cat wanted to ask more but she was tired and needed to eat. She also reasoned that if John wasn’t worried about Bartholomew Hood, then she shouldn’t be either. A man like that was an asset, so long as he was on her side.

She finished her food quickly. It was nowhere near enough but she was about ready to keel over and asked John where the crew were to sleep.

“We’ll bunker down here, it’s a good enough spot,” John said, closing his eyes and settling against the hull.

“No hammocks?” Cat asked.

“Oh, aye, there’s hammocks. Bout ten o’ them I’d say.”

“But there’s forty crewmen aboard at least!”

“Forty-seven including officers and four o’ those gets a bed,” He said, quietly. “Then there’s a night shift o’ ten men, so that leaves thirty-two men to ten hammocks, no problem there that I see.” John laughed bitterly and shook his head. “I think we might be in for a bit of a rough voyage.”

Ten Weeks Later…

Cat was shaken awake by Joshua.

“Jack!” he called out, shaking her, hard. It took a few long moments to pull her out of a deep, deep sleep and when she remembered where she was, and what was going on she groaned.

The red-headed lad, Joshua, had been on night shift and the lads had all agreed together, weeks before, that the one who was on night duty would wake them all for day shift. He also wanted a good spot to sleep and, as Cat dragged herself up onto her feet, Joshua hunkered down in her place.

Cat had lost count of the number of days they had been at sea. She fumbled through every day as blindly as the first. Her duties had become as second nature and she often found herself at duty on a part of the ship she didn’t remember walking to and she was sure that half her shift was spent in sleepwalking.

She fumbled around the deck, trying not to trip over the sleeping bodies in the half dark. It was her duty each morning to empty the piss bucket over the side and she carried out her duty swiftly so as not to extend the annoyance. She was secretly glad of the task as it meant she had reason to go into the closet each morning without raising attention. It was no more than a plank of wood with a hole in it but it offered her the privacy she needed. She was also responsible for taking another bucket, filled with stinking and bloodied rags, for washing. This bucket had been empty the first few weeks. But now, well into the journey, it was overflowing each morning due to wounds from punishments, accidents, and ill-health alike. The wound itself was often bearable for the men, it was the danger of the sweats that a wound carried. They had lost three men to fever since leaving Bristol and there were two men still suffering.

Cat carried the emptied buckets back below deck and ran off to find Timpson, the youngest, mouse-like boy with ears like a jug. She and he would swab the deck all morning to make sure it didn’t dry out in the relentless sun. The dry planks would shrink and open gaps between in the wood, causing sea or rainwater to seep below.

But as Cat gathered the swab and bucket, Davies came running to her. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles ran underneath, and he was pale from lack of sleep.

“I need you up top,” he said, indicating the Boatswain, Glenister, the mad Glaswegian with a square jaw, thinning hair, and a joy of going shirtless. The Boatswain was clearly the one that had given the order and he was still prowling around the deck lash in hand. It was his duty to deliver the lashes and although he was only permitted to lash when ordered to by another officer, he liked to carry the whip with him at all times, often leaning against the mast, stretching and pulling the leather as if he enjoyed testing its strength.

“Ye was on night watch with Joshua!” she argued. It seemed the cabin boys were taking on more and more work of Able Seamen as the crew were struck down with injury and sickness.

Cat had known Davies for just a few weeks and yet their long days spent side by side, high up in the rigging, swabbing the deck, or down in the bilge, killing rats with no more than a marlin spike as a weapon, had forced them to grow close. He reminded her of the lad Luke who’d been shot that day on the beach; they had the same soft blond hair and eyes, as well as a similar wit.

“Aye, and now we’re up top, the lines ‘ave to be worked, there ain’t no one else fit or free.” Davies had been good to her, one of the few men on the ship that hadn’t constantly chastised her for her lack of skill or knowledge. He had been patient with her, trained her in the skills she needed and laughed with her through many hardships they suffered daily.

“Sampson’s still in the brig?” Cat was shocked, the man had barely said a word back to the Quartermaster but it was enough to incur the man’s wrath.

“Aye, that man Glenister enjoys his work; it was a bad floggin’.”

“Christ.”

“Don’t let the Boatswain hear that mouth o’ yours, Jack, or you’ll be next!” Davies warned, but there was a glint in his eye despite the fatigue.

One of the only good things about working up on the narrow yards, from which the sails were hung, was that there were no officers up there to threaten the whip.

It was bright and, although the sky seemed clear, Cat could see clouds rapidly moving in and the wind was picking up. She knew the lines were always poorly tied by tired men wanting to make a quick escape and she realised that they couldn’t raise the sails and make the most of the good wind. It meant retying the lines in blustery weather, even on a calm day Cat hated clambering high above the deck. It seemed that for every foot climbed the movement of the ship was intensified. As if climbing a rock face in a wet dress with high heels hadn’t been bad enough, she imagined it would have been a whole lot worse if the rocks had been swinging in the breeze. But there was nothing for it but to get on with the task at hand.

Once up on the yard, Cat noticed that ‘she’ was out on deck again. ‘The Lady’. She spent most of her time hidden away from view, below deck in her own cabin, no doubt sipping good wine and gobbling at exquisite rations.

‘All right for some,’ Cat thought bitterly.

There were as many rumours about Miss Lillian Exquemelin as there were crewmen. Some said that they had spotted her sneaking into the Captain’s cabin at ungodly hours, Cat had even seen her out on deck at night with a sextant and looking up at the stars, playing at navigation like a child.

She had at least changed from her ridiculous outfits and no longer wore the hat or the large skirts as if she were now pretending at being practical.

Cat hated her. Cat hated that she had to be up in the rigging, her knuckles raw, her hands numb with cold, and her belly growling for the next meagre rations, while that painted aristocrat wafted around the ship as if it were a parlour game.

“Eyes on the job, Jack,” Davies suddenly called from his arm of the yard, “You can moon over that beauty another time!”

“I ain’t moonin’,” Cat shouted back, defensively.

“Oh aye?” he teased, “I know that puppy dog look, Jack, I think you’ve gone soft on her!”

“She’s the one what’s soft, bet she don’t know what a line is let alone how to tie it!” Davies’ taunts had irritated her, and she tried to focus on her knots and ignore him.

“I bet you likes them soft, Jack! Soft hands, ay? Soft skin? Soft—”

“Hush your gums, scut!” Cat shouted. Davies laughed, throwing back his head laughing at her anger, which only served to further infuriate her. She noticed he’d brought up a marlin spike and was using it do undo the knots while she was struggling with bare hands, “throw me the spike, hog-features,” she ordered, hoping it would take his mind of his games.

“Come and fetch it, ya scrawny whelp!” he shouted back, his lopsided grin endearing and irritating in equal measure.

Cat looked down. A mistake. The deck seemed to be swinging a hundred feet below, she clutched the yard beam tighter and closed her eyes.

Davies must have seen the look on her face for he immediately shouted that he would bring it over now he was done. Thankful, she looked up to see Davies leap to his feet and ready himself to walk across the yard beam toward her, his deftness made her sick to her stomach with fear.

“Careful!” she shouted, as a fresh gust of wind swept around them.

But, as if to prove her fears, his foot caught. The moment seemed to take a hundred years; Cat watched helplessly as Davies’ arms flailed wildly and the marlin spike shot from his hands. He seemed suspended, hanging perilously, nothing between him and wooden deck so many feet below. He called out to her but she was too far for him to reach.

Then he was gone.

Chapter Nineteen
The Carpenter’s Task

Three days later…

Screams pierced the night air.

Cat’s stomach tightened and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the deck rail and waited for the sound to cease.

She stared out to sea and the clear, dark sky lay above her like a blanket littered with a thousand stars; steady, quiet, and unchanging. The ship creaked as it rocked on the waves, cutting swiftly across the water, the sails full, the gentle sound of the lines tightening and releasing, the occasional salty spray dusting the air.

His screams faded into a whimper.

Cat could barely hear Davies at all now. There was only the sound of John’s gentle words to Davies and his occasional muffled orders to his assistant.

Suddenly John’s voice became urgent and hurried and his assistant was panicking. Then they both fell silent.

Cat heard a bang as if one of the men had thrown his fist against a wall or table then John joined her out on deck.

His face was worn. He had aged terribly in the last few weeks; his greying beard was long and ragged and his hair was tied loosely at the nape of his neck. He cleaned his hands with an old, well-worn rag but the blood was splattered his apron and clothes from chest to feet.

He caught Cat’s eye and shook his head slowly.

That small gesture punched the air out of her lungs. She leant over the side of the ship, the wave of loss and grief making her stumble.

Toby Davies was dead.

His young bright face joined the ranks of Luke, Joe, Smithy, and Michael.

She tried these days not to think about Billy. About his pleading, his eyes and the way he stared straight at her before she’d pulled that trigger… but no matter how hard she tried to forget during the day she was reminded again each night when his face returned to her dreams.

She hit the deck rail in frustration, “Dammit, John!” she cried. “He was barely eighteen!”

“Aye,” John said sadly. There was a croak in his voice. He shouldn’t have had to witness Davies’ death. He shouldn’t have had to have any part in it at all; he was ship’s carpenter, not a surgeon. He was handy with a saw but there was a difference between a wooden post and a man’s leg.

“It’s a damned shame! They should have a surgeon aboard.”

“Aye.”

“He should never have been up in the yard; he’d not rested from the night, he’d likely not eaten! It’s no wonder he slipped. I’ve no doubt they expected it; they drove him to it!”

“Aye.”

“Are you not angry, John?” she looked up at him and immediately regretted her words. She could see the gloss of tears in his eyes. He was far from angry; he was close to breaking. “Don’t answer,” she said quickly trying to pull back the offence she must have caused with her suggestion, “it’s my own anger that speaks. I don’t mean half my words.”

He patted her shoulder but he barely had the energy to speak, let alone voice offence. Cat looked away, ashamed that she had lashed out in rage to him but Toby was not the first crewman to die on this hellish voyage and Cat was certain he wouldn’t be the last. Yet there was still no word on how much longer the journey was to be or where their final destination lay.

Part of her almost wished she had been caught by the Revenue Men and put to gaol. Living aboard the Sea Nymph was worse than any cell. In a gaol, there would be more room, better food and, no doubt, better company than the foul rogues who haunted the decks of the Sea Nymph. The crewmen weren’t a bad lot it was the officers who were as the Devil’s own brood.

“What of this? A family gathering?” Cat turned to see the Quartermaster. Illuminated by the weak lamplight he was at that moment the very vision of a demon with the light from a nearby lantern illuminating only half his face, exaggerating his pointed features and twisting his smirk further.

“Young Davies has died this hour, Sir,” John said, gravely. Cat couldn’t understand how he managed to keep his tone so even and his words so respectful when talking to the very man that had ushered Davies to his deathbed on the carpenter’s workbench.

Kingsley sighed as if it was yet another irritation that had to be taken care of. “Then you will take on his duties, Boy, and be quick about it! The watch was due for a change at sundown.” And with that, he turned sharply and was gone. Back to the hellish aftcastle from which he had come.

“That man!” Cat muttered.

“Aye, Laddie, that man that is your officer, and that officer has ordered you to your duty,”

“I swear I’ll—”

“Thee will do nowt, Jack,” he looked down at her, his eyes firm, “there ain’t an officer on board that would not ‘esitate to strike thee down. Ye will be a sailor for but one voyage. And there will be none o’ this talk o’ rebellion. Ye hear?”

She nodded. Her anger was ready to boil over; she couldn’t utter calm words to reassure him and instead she looked away and headed off to her post.

“Afore ye go,” John called after her. She turned and saw him disappear into his small workshop, returning after a moment. He held a tankard out to her, “‘Ave a little black strap,” he said.

She took the tankard gratefully. She was going to need the strong, sweet black liquor to get her through a cold night on watch. There were few who could it make it through without drifting to sleep and she knew if she was caught, she would be forced onto another watch and then another and that was when the real cycle of hell would begin.

She witnessed this cycle with a fellow crewman, Sampson, a thin Welshman. Deprived of sleep a second night he’d drifted off again. Once he was caught, he’d been denied food and water and forced to endure the day watch before he was lashed a dozen times in front of the crew. He had fumbled through his work, pushed beyond the reasonable limit of man. Then when he’d been too slow to respond to orders he was sent down to the brig. Cat had secretly taken him a little of her ale as she had been so troubled by his treatment, but she almost wished she hadn’t for the sight of the man dry-lipped, and red-eyed, starving and full of thirst, his open wounds from the twelve lashes had turned foul, and his pitiful moaning had made Cat feel both helpless and ashamed.

It was almost a relief to be out on the watch. Almost.

So far, Cat had been spared any punishments and she was sure it was due to John and Fletcher watching her back, as well as Davies while he’d been able. Cat knew it was luck more than skill or strength that ensured she hadn’t been caught sleeping, tying a bad knot, or dropping powder in the gun deck whilst training to be a canon monkey alongside little Timpson, them being the only two small enough for the task.

She’d quickly grown accustomed to the exercise and her strength had improved as had her speed and her skill as a sailor. But as the voyage wore on and sleep became harder to come by, as did sustenance, she was weakening and saw the same in many of the crew. No one knew how much longer the men could be pushed to work these hours or for how much longer the officers would be driving them to.

There was only one person aboard who had any clue.

Cat was certain that the young woman, a daughter of a Dutchman if her name was anything to go by, was the one who held all the answers. Cat had asked the others about her but no one knew who she was, save her name. However, most of the crew called her the ‘Perfume Princess’ on account of the stifling amount of perfume she wore, almost suffocating crewman as she walked past.

As Cat slowly climbed the rigging to her post, her black strap long consumed, she looked out toward the aftcastle and saw the young Miss Exquemelin taking her usual evening turn about the deck. She’d long lost her ringlets and her hair was loose and blowing gently in the cool evening breeze, she carried her shawl about her shoulders but no hat or fur muff for her hands. The lady’s beautiful, perfectly tailored clothes were a stark contrast to Cat’s, with her raggedy, dirty slops, bare feet, and loose, hemp shirt, although she’d secretly kept her bodice, it added to the heat but ensured her figure was hidden. Cat laughed bitterly and shook her head at the woman’s willful ignorance of the suffering of those around her, clearly caused by whatever personal vanity this aristocratic witch pursued.

“Cobham, you’re relieved,” Cat whispered, shaking awake the thin and gaunt man who’d been on watch for at least the last sixteen hours. He was a man with eyes so dark they were almost black and a moustache that curled around his top lip and hung down, limp and sad, either side of his chin. He reminded Cat of a raggedy old wolfhound.

He woke up startled. “I’m awake!” he stammered.

“You’re relieved, Cob,” she repeated, “go get some rest.”

“Aye, Jack.” He nodded, understanding that she was ignoring his dereliction of duty. She hoped that one day he’d return the favour.

Cobham clambered out of the tight space high up on the mainmast, he was clearly quite dizzy with exhaustion and Cat hoped he would make it safely down the rigging without incident. The space he left in the crow’s nest was just large enough for Cat to hunker down out of the worst of the wind and try to get marginally comfortable. She used the spyglass to briefly survey the black horizon, ensuring there were no unexpected ships or islands silhouetted in the dark, before settling herself in for a very long night watch.

So long as she could keep awake.

Chapter Twenty
A Turn About the Deck

The fresh, salty air rushed against Lily’s skin.

The cold clarity of it seemed to purify her lungs. The stuffy, stench of below deck was a distant memory when she stood out here staring into the dark sea. The night was clear and refreshing but cold enough for a shawl. A good breeze kept the ship moving fast through the water, every moment taking them farther from England and closer to something new, something utterly unknown.

Lily was so far from home she had begun to wonder if she would ever return to English society or anything resembling normality. Not that she had been a real part of society, to begin with. Some had been intrigued by her background but most saw her as the wretched daughter of a pirate and a whore. Her father’s loyal service to first Queen Anne and then King George mattered little when it came to a good tale. She wondered if perhaps she shouldn’t go back. Perhaps there was a new life waiting for her in the New World. She just couldn’t imagine how that new life might look, and here, so far from everything and everyone she had ever known, Lily felt lost.

A low, heavy note of song drifted to her on the night air.

One of the crewmen had started a melodic sea shanty. It was a mournful, funeral lament, one which she had heard before on this voyage. She knew this meant the screams she’d heard had resulted in the death of a crewman. Another one. Another man that her reckless voyage had killed.

More men joined the requiem and she listened sadly to the melodious tune of two dozen or so male voices, leaving her feeling more helpless and alone than ever.

There was no one aboard that she could speak to. Some of the men offered her the occasional nod of acknowledgement but said nothing. They wouldn’t dare speak unless spoken to and she wouldn’t know the first thing to say to them if they did.

Then there were the officers.

For the first time in her life, she was starting to see the other side to those strapping men in uniform that strut around the ballrooms of high society.

She had always felt that the Navy Officer’s uniform was more like a costume than a practical necessity; they were merely playing a part to impress the men and seduce the women about town. But now Lily had borne witness to Merchant Officers in action and she could see exactly the uses of an expensive dress-coat with shining brass buttons. She had watched as officers swaggered about the ship like peacocks on a manor lawn, barking orders at their subordinates without lifting a finger themselves. They treated boys and full-grown men as dogs, constantly shouting, constantly berating, and constantly ordering. It struck Lily that the shouting was far less about making the crewmen work harder and more about making the officers feel superior.

So easy in polite society, so well mannered, and so full of the sensibilities of their position, yet out here aboard this island in the sea, this temporary nation, officers were the law. And never had she been forced to witness the law in action so frequently and so harshly.

Men were punished for being slow, for talking out of place, or for falling short of perfection when pulling the lines. Their punishments would involve more demanding work, more duties, fewer hours sleep, less food, and some of the men had even been punished by being deprived water. Most of the crew were being punished simply for being exhausted and she couldn’t blame them.

Night after night Lily had suffered from poor sleep. She was restless during these warm nights and weary during the day. This was the longest voyage she had ever taken at sea, made longer by delays, and she felt weak and lightheaded from the constant pitching and rolling of the ship, even in calm weather, and there had been days when she could barely move to sit upright in bed. She found it impossible to imagine the added burden of physical labour.

Lily greatly admired the crew but there was nothing she could think of to do to prevent their punishments. Her darkest acknowledgement was that she was responsible for their misery and she had taken to keeping her father’s brass knife on her at all times, lest someone see fit to seek his revenge. The Sea Nymph had been forced to sea with fewer supplies and fewer men than she might have had on a better-funded voyage and this was the root cause of the low rations and double shifts which in turn led to errors from hunger and exhaustion. When the punishments didn’t improve standards, it led to more lashings.

She couldn’t bear to watch.

With a shudder, she remembered the canings she’d received as a child. A brush across the back of the hand or rushes against the backside delivered by a particularly stern Sister Gabriel during her day-schooling at the convent, which had only ever served to make her more resentful and better at deceit. She had expected something similar here; a simple, short, sharp and painful reminder of the lesson the men were forced to learn. But the whip, with its nine ferocious strips knotted at the ends, cracking in the air and tearing into the flesh was like nothing she had ever imagined.

After witnessing the first strike of a lash Lily had buckled. She quickly left the deck, charging into her quarters feeling a ferocious sickness. With every further crack that reverberated through the ship she could feel herself wanting to join the cries of the young man; almost as though the strikes were against her own skin.

She stayed in her cabin for days after that but the small windows let in only a little light and air. She was stifled and repressed; an animal trapped in a cage. The pitching and rolling now rendered her stomach useless for anything but rejecting the few terrible meals she could manage and she knew she would have to gain air or die in that wretched place.

The rest of the ship was like another world to her.

But she still had to take a turn about the top deck at night and try to take their bearings. The Navigation Officer had ignored his duty since they had left port and the Captain had done little but drink. It was down to Lily to secretly check their bearings and then sneak into the Captain’s quarters to update the charts. No one questioned who was doing it, so long as the Helmsmen got his orders, and the officers had their rum, no one asked questions.

No one except the Quartermaster.

“Lovely evening, don’t you agree?”

Lily didn’t have to look to know it was Kingsley. His voice had become so wretchedly familiar.

“Good evening, Master Kingsley,” she replied, quickly hiding the sextant in the folds of her skirts and hoping that their mild formalities would be the limit of the conversation.

“This may be the last night of our journey.”

Lily looked up at him sharply, surprised.

“Or we may have another three weeks at sea…”

She sighed. He wasn’t going to break her that easily. “I suppose you will discover the truth soon enough.”

“Perhaps you could provide me with some indication, Miss Exquemelin, in order that I may ration our remaining supplies accordingly.”

“I think perhaps you mistake me for the Captain, Sir.”

Kingsley smiled; a broad, thin-lipped smile.

“Speaking of the Captain,” he said, maintaining his composure beautifully, “Perhaps you would care to join him and me for dinner tomorrow evening?”

“I wouldn’t want to be an annoyance,” she said quickly.

“Not at all, in fact, the Captain has requested your presence personally.”

Lily longed to be back in Bristol or anywhere that wasn’t a small ship in the middle of the ocean where she couldn’t avoid prying eyes and requests for dinner from fascinated voyeurs by simply feigning a prior engagement. What possible prior engagement could she feign aboard ship? Dinner with a bilge rat?

She tried not to give any sign of her annoyance.

“In that case,” she said smoothly, “it would be my pleasure.”

Chapter Twenty-One
Bad Usage

Tired, troubled, and disgusted, Cat made her way to John’s carpentry workshop. She glanced around the dark and quiet deck to make sure she hadn’t been followed then slid through the door. Fletcher was already there sucking out the last of the juice from a sad, dried-out lime.

“Jack, lad, get that down yer gullet,” John said, tossing her a lime from a small pile he had gathered.

“Where did you get this?” she asked, unsure if she wanted to be caught with it but desperate enough to dig into anything. After picking out a fair few maggots from her salted meat ration she was fast losing any preferences she used to have for food.

John tapped his nose, “Ne’er you mind.” He winked.

“You seen Tommy about?” Fletcher asked, tossing the skin of his lime into a bucket. Cat noticed John carefully pick it out again.

She shook her head. The lime juice was limited but still managed to spill out over her chin. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and instantly regretted it: she still stank of the bilge. The bilge was the lowest section of the ship, no one had pumped it out for days and so it was flooded with stagnant, rotten seawater where the filth of each deck had accumulated. It was there that the rats had found a safe-haven to breed. It was also where she’d spent the afternoon.

“What’s that stink?” Tommy asked as he slid in the door. With the four of them in John’s tiny carpentry workshop, there was little room for Cat to disguise her smell.

“The lad was Chief Rat Catcher today,” John said tossing the last lime to Tommy.

“I thought you was on watch last night?”

Cat nodded. She’d spent most of the day in a haze. The only thing keeping her awake was chasing rats and she knew that the moment she stopped she’d likely keel over into a dead sleep. But working alone kept her out of the way of officers who were quick to punish, and other crewmen who she always avoided for no other reason than they might become suspicious of her sex.

Tommy didn’t answer. Nor did he mock, deride or chide; he simply nodded. It hadn’t passed unnoticed by Cat that the more she worked, the harder she worked, and the longer hours she worked, the more respect Tommy had for her. He had always suspected her of being slothful and of wanting Michael to run the inn and household while she ran around playing smuggler but she hoped he was now starting to see that she wasn’t just a rich girl playing a game.

“All’s clear on deck,” Tommy said.

Fletcher nodded, “I been hearin’ a lot of rumours,” he started.

“Aye, there be a lot o’ that about,” John replied.

“The Miss Lillian has a treasure map.”

John laughed. “Load o’ codswallop if ye ask me.”

“I ‘eard the same,” Tommy said as he finished the last of his lime.

“There ain’t no such thing as treasure maps! Men don’t bury their gold, they spend it! And fast as they can at that. Is this all ye called this confab for, Fletch? I always thought ye ‘ad more sense an’ that!” He laughed, but there was irritation in his voice.

“Nay,” said Fletcher. The firmness of his words made Cat look up from her half-daze with interest, “I wish it were but the rumours of gold are not my main concern… it is what they are sparking.”

“Speak clearly, now, Lad.”

Fletcher leant in and the others did the same. He dropped his voice to barely above a whisper, “I’ve been sounded out by Bartholomew Hood…” he looked around as if worried that there was someone else squeezed in the tiny workshop along with them, “for a mutiny.” He said the last word so low that Cat had to study his lips to be certain of what he said.

There was silence.

“I hear men each day grumbling when they are set about their duty and wishin’ to God Almighty that they meet the pirates, but mutiny?” John studied Fletcher, “Are thee sure of this, lad?”

Fletcher nodded slowly.

“Do it matter?” Tommy asked, Cat looked at him, “We’re already outlaws, what of a mutiny? What if the ship turns pirate? We can still make our escape in the New World.”

“Only if the new Captain is willing to allow it,” Cat said.

“And we can’t be sure of which way a mutiny might fall… we have to be on the right side of it,” Fletcher warned.

“I’ll be with the mutineers,” Cat said, “damn those Devils at the helm.”

“Keep thy voice to whisper, lad!” John said quickly. But Cat felt the rage she had bottled up for so many weeks bubbling to the surface.

“They have no damned right to treat us worse than animals! Starving us, driving us mad with thirst, then working us without sleep until we fall and break our legs and the rest of the crew has to watch uselessly while the wound turns foul and there is nothing for it but for the leg to be taken—” She couldn’t continue, the rage at the injustice of it choked her.

“You’ll kill us all with talk like that,” said Tommy, slowly breaking the silence that followed her tirade.

“Who of us would serve willin’ under the death’s head and black colours?” said John, looking from one to the other, “Aye, none. We’ll not mutiny,” he said with finality. “But we’ll ‘ave to know what we’re about if one occurs.”

“I agree. We can’t join quarter with a mutiny,” Fletcher said.

Cat looked up at him sharply “Have you been serving on a different ship?” she began.

“Whatever bad usage we have suffered,” he said, “we will still need money in the New World, or where ever this damned ship is headed, so we need whatever wages we may receive.”

“What of this map?” Tommy asked.

“John is right; there may not be a map.”

“But if there is?” Cat asked.

“I will not let thee stake thy life on a treasure hunt.” John looked to her and then to Tommy. “None o’ ye. Our treasure is our freedom. I ain’t about to see thee go along on a golden goose chase.”

“But whatever way this falls out we need to be on the winning side,” Fletcher pointed out.

“Aye,” John agreed, “Fletch, keep yerself in with this mutinous gang o’ thee’s; make pleasin’ noises an’ such like. I’ll keep in with thems grizzled old sailors what are tough as bootstraps but loyal to command. Tommy, I reckon ‘tis best ye stay close to that gun deck and armoury. Whosoever has that under their banner has the ship so let’s make sure that’s us. Aye?”

“Aye,” Tommy and Fletcher nodded in agreement.

“What of me?” Cat asked.

They all looked at her.

“Sit tight,” John said.

Cat shook her head in irritation, she wasn’t about to be cast out now. “We need to know what the situation is,” she said, “We need to know if there really is a treasure map.”

“No one would be fool enough to make a map then bring it aboard a ship of thugs and mutineers,” Fletcher said.

“She would,” Cat said firmly. None of them had to ask who ‘she’ was. “I think I have a way to discover the truth for certain.”

John sighed. “Long as ye don’t start a mutiny,” he said looking down at her.

“I won’t.”

Chapter Twenty-Two
The Captain’s Table

Lily was seated at the Captain’s table.

The room was poorly lit and there was little air. She picked at the meagre food not sure what it was and not sure she wanted to know. There was wine supplied from a large, flat-bottomed decanter and she’d already had several glasses, simply in an attempt to make it through the evening.

The Captain sat at the head of the table his plump round head bobbing atop his plump round belly, his waistcoat buttons straining, and his shirt-sleeved arms waving about as he droned on full of hot air and thoroughly enjoying the sound of his own voice. The decanter was nearly empty but for quite some time he had been topping his glass up from his own bottle which contained a much darker liquid. Lily assumed it was a port or sherry but wasn’t sure which as he hadn’t offered it to either her or Kingsley who sat opposite her stiff-backed and occasionally taking small, obviously distasteful, bites from the substantial portion in front of him.

A small grandmother clock chimed. The out-of-tune bells seemed to go on for an age and she lost count of the number as if she was even losing her grasp on time itself.

She fanned herself gently but only served to move the stagnant air around her features. These days she was no longer able to get cool and her clothes had become heavier, hotter, and more restrictive as with each passing day the weather warmed further. The humidity only added to her discomfort, she wished her clothes were lighter, fewer even. She was envious of the men who often stripped down to the waist; however indecent it appeared there were at least able to cool off.

“We have enough supplies to sustain us for a week or so,” Kingsley said suddenly in a whispered voice, ignoring the Captain, “should I be concerned?”

Lily looked at Kingsley, blinked, and then shook her head languidly. She had little energy to play games with him. He would discover soon enough where they were heading and until then there was no possibility of him even glancing at the route she had carefully maintained on the Captain’s navigation charts. She had noted, with not some little pleasure, that the Quartermaster had been quite put out by being excluded from the initial meetings to discuss the route but the Captain had been quite sober in the days before they left port and he’d firmly reminded Kingsley of his place. He had been all courtesy at the time but now, as the Captain allowed his control to slip further regarding the drink, Kingsley was becoming more determined with his requests.

“I do think our route ought to be checked,” he whispered loudly, “by someone who knows how to navigate a vessel…” He allowed the insult to hang in the air and Lily decided to hang him with it.

“Are you insinuating that the Captain is not fit for his rank?” she asked with a smile that she hoped was both innocent and accusatory.

Kingsley sniffed.

“We could be a thousand leagues off course,” he said, “and you would have no way of knowing.”

She wondered why he suspected that she was the one updating the navigation charts. Lily also realised that with no one to double check her work he might be right to be concerned, they were already far behind schedule, it might be that they were lost as well. But Lily shook the thought away, she was confident, she knew exactly where they were and they would all have to suffer this voyage for just a few days more.

There was no way that she would allow the Quartermaster access to her most precious possession. It was her only asset and its secrecy was the only thing keeping her safe, she wasn’t about to hand it to him simply because he wished it. Even if the look he now gave her was positively ferocious.

“I would like to remind you, Master Kingsley,” she replied, doing her best to keep the quiver from her voice, “that the Captain is perfectly happy with our current arrangement. And it is he who is in command of this ship, is it not?”

Kingsley leant forward across the dinner table and Lily couldn’t help but lean back as his threatening gaze moved closer.

“And you entrust your life to that man?” his voice was so low it was barely more than a growl, his teeth glinting white in the weak lamplight.

Lily opened her mouth to say that she did indeed trust the Captain and that by insinuating that she shouldn’t, the Quartermaster was surely committing the most heinous of acts but just at that moment she made the unforgivable mistake of glancing across the table at the man who was supposed to hold their lives in his hands. He had ceased his infernal prattling and his fat, shining, bald head lolled heavily on his chest, both decanters were now quite empty and a low snoring began to emanate from deep within the nasal region of the great blubbering, red-faced, beast.

Unable to justify a positive report of the Captain in such circumstances Lily had no alternative but to quickly change strategies under the heavy gaze of the Quartermaster.

“You have sworn to serve under him, have you not, Master Kingsley?”

Kingsley’s lip curled into a snarl, he sat back and she almost felt rather than heard the loud growl of dissatisfaction he produced.

“I am an Officer aboard this ship,” he said and she noted how slowly and how carefully he chose each word as he spoke, aware of his betrayal so close to his serving Captain, “and I have a right, indeed every right, to the navigation charts you have created, the map of our destination, and to the codebook needed to decipher that map.”

Lily’s eyes shot up; she had never mentioned that book to Kingsley. She glanced across at the snoozing Captain. She thought she had never mentioned it to him either. It was mystery enough that he should know of her secret navigations, ‘but how does he know of my book?’ she wondered.

Lily looked back to Kingsley. She couldn’t help but notice the look of smug satisfaction on his face; he knew he had unsettled her with such a demonstration of his knowledge.

She wondered, fleetingly, if he had been through the belongings in her room if he had discovered the book amongst her things, ‘but then why is he so demanding about seeing it if he’s already gained access to it?’ she thought.

She looked once again at the Captain. Kingsley had been right to suggest she shouldn’t trust him. In a normal situation, she wasn’t sure she would trust him enough to ask for directions to the theatre. But he was a sea captain. He had sailed for years, they had originally drawn up the navigation charts together, he had talked her through their route to St Thomas, the nearest port. He had seemed to know what he was doing then… but she was the only one checking the route now.

She was deeply annoyed at Kingsley. He had started as the pinnacle of politeness but now that façade had descended. At best, he was a rogue. He unsettled her. Above everything else, above the fears for the safety of the ship, above the worry that they may be lost at sea, above her concern for the capability of the Captain, there was the simple fact that she did not like that man.

“I am afraid, sir,” she said, finally, with her chin up and doing her best to remain strong, “that you have precisely no right to look through my personal belongings.”

He banged the table, one quick ferocious swipe of his fist, making her, and everything on the table, jump. The Captain’s snoring faltered momentarily but otherwise, he was undisturbed.

“You will not defy me!” His eyes were like fire and his perfectly neat periwig was slightly askew which only added to his air of discord and menace.

In that moment, Lily was further reminded of her utter vulnerability. So far out to sea this ship and the men aboard were a law unto themselves. Who could she go to? Where could she seek shelter? Lily felt as though she were clinging to a high ledge by just her fingertips, the wine and the heat of the room only added to her dizziness.

“It is late,” she said, trying to recover the situation, and stop the twisting fear in her stomach from taking over. She needed to get out and she needed to breathe. She couldn’t escape this damned ship but she could at least flee this room and this moment, “I believe we are both in need of some rest,” she added.

Lily stood and nodded to Kingsley as if what had happened had been no more than a slight disagreement over a game of bridge. She knew he could stop her; he had the strength to force her to stay or indeed carry her to the side of the ship and toss her overboard if he wished. She swallowed hard and turned away from the Quartermaster, unable to utter another word. Carefully, she walked to the door but didn’t want to betray her fear or lack of sobriety by moving any faster that seemed natural.

Hot tears burnt her eyes as she finally closed the door behind her. She had no one to turn to, no one to ask for advice or protection. She was utterly alone and had no idea how long she could hold this stalemate before Kingsley would decide to simply take what he wanted.

Lily desperately needed someone, anyone, she could trust.

Chapter Twenty-Three
Overboard

The ropes creaked as the small wooden plank took Cat’s full weight and she wriggled into position on the little platform. She closed her eyes and reminded herself that she had taken this same journey more than a dozen times. She had worked for hours over the side of the ship, on hot days feeling faint, on freezing cold days with a wind biting at her neck and swinging her about, her fingers almost too numb to hold on and all the while having nothing but this short plank of wood between her and the ocean below.

She signalled to Fletcher and John to start easing her down. It had to be now while Tommy was on watch and they had to be quick.

“Are you certain of this, Cat?” Fletcher asked in a hushed whisper as he cautiously pulled on the ropes keeping her from plunging into the black water.

“Jack!” John corrected with a hiss, florid with concern.

“Aye,” Fletcher said, shaking his head with irritation, “Jack.”

“Certain,” Cat lied fluidly, keeping her voice as low as she could manage while still being heard, “if I have tarred this ship once, I have tarred it a thousand times, over the side at night is the same as day once you’ve a feel for it.”

She was eager to get on her way and concentrate on the task at hand. It wouldn’t take much to dissuade her at this point; the waves lapped hungrily below her. If she were to slip there would be no coming back. Even if she survived the fall and managed to keep afloat there was no chance of rescue. The ship was moving so fast and the night was so dark that by the time they had turned, they would never find her again. Cat hoped there was still a Saint willing to hear to her prayers.

“No heroics,” Fletcher said as he and John lowered the platform, “don’t linger, don’t upturn the room, simply glance around, look lightly. If ever there were such a map it is likely with the Captain anyway.”

Cat nodded, readying herself for the adventure. She gripped the rope tightly and did her best to remain calm as if throwing herself over the side of a ship at night was a mere trifle.

“I ain’t so sure I like this,” John said through gritted teeth, “plan or no plan, this cloak and dagger don’t sit right.” He was looking each way along the deck, the strain of nervousness and the pull of the ropes clearly marking his features. John seemed fearful that at any moment they may be seen, questioned, interrogated, found out.

“There’s no need to be fearful, John,” she hissed, as reassuringly as she could muster, “The sooner I go the sooner I get back.” But her attempts to put an end to the delay only seemed to further inflame his concern.

“I sure I seen bad omens this day, lads reckon there were a black albatross flew over head—”

“You’re acting like an old woman!” she hissed.

“Well,” he replied, leaning over the deck rail, “if the young woman I know is anythin’ ter go by then being an old woman is by no means an insult.”

She laughed and nodded. “Aye, fair enough. But lower me all the same.”

Creak by creak the ropes eased her further into the darkness. Just a few feet below the deck rail was enough to muffle the sounds of the ship, of the people aboard and of the life just out of reach. She was alone. Nothing but the sound of the sea as the ship seared through the water.

Cat could do little more than patiently wait, putting all her trust into the men at the ropes to pull her little platform along the side of the ship. All the new tar had set in, she ran her hand across the planks feeling her way across the ship as her platform was guided further toward the stern.

She remembered the first time she’d had to go over the side, how terrified she had been and how exposed she’d felt. It was all she could do not to cling on to the side and cry! But then she had seen fear in the eyes of Davies, she hadn’t realised it was his first time over the side as well, she smiled as she remembered taunting him. Once she was able to tease him for his cowardice it eased her own fears and together they had laughed through their shift, even endangering themselves further to make the other laugh and prove their boldness. She smiled to herself at the memory but then, up ahead, she caught sight of the lantern hanging from the stern and she knew she was close to the officers’ quarters.

These last few weeks of muggy nights had ensured that any porthole or window had been open to its fullest and she was relieved to see that it was no different in the aftcastle. The heat had been like a constant veil of a scorching summer afternoon, no longer lifting and clearing at night but hanging heavy and sweaty. Between decks had become unbearable. Cat was no longer certain what she preferred; a sleepless night on watch duty or a sleepless night restless in a corner with sweat pouring from every inch of flesh, her nostrils filled with the heavy stench of twenty unwashed sailors, and her ears filled with their heavy snores or retching.

Although open, the casement was small. It would be a tight squeeze but not an impossible one.

She knew the top window was the Captain’s. She could see the light from his rooms clearly and hear the drone of his voice as he entertained.

The window directly underneath belonged to Miss Lillian Exquemelin. Although Cat had never been anywhere near the officers’ quarters, Fletcher had assured her of the right location, and she was certain that information had come from the ever-knowing Bartholomew Hood.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but worry that she might be just about to slide herself through completely the wrong window. She imagined landing on an officer while he slept and struggled to think how she would talk her way out of that situation.

Cat took a deep breath and clambered up, standing on her wooden platform with one hand holding firmly on the rope. She leant ever so slightly forward to take hold of the window frame and then, with a quick leap, she was off the platform and clinging, bare-handed, to the side of the ship. Nothing between her and the ocean but her grip on the window frame as the platform swung loosely behind her.

Refusing to think or glance below, Cat heaved her body up to the window. With a little twisting and pulling she was just barely able to scrape through. It was the first time she was thankful for her lack of food as she was certain that had it been a few weeks earlier she would have got stuck fast.

Cat landed gently on the smooth, sweet-smelling sheets of the bed. It took her a moment to realise what it was, so long was it since she’d been near anything soft that she’d almost forgotten how normal people lived; that they slept in a bed and not hanging from the rafters on a piece of sackcloth that stank of the last man that had used it. If they were lucky.

The room was dark and lit only by the moon and the lantern at the ship’s stern. Cat fumbled in her pockets for a match and took the risk of lighting a candle that rested on the bedside cabinet.

She held the candle aloft and wondered where to begin her search.

Every surface in the room was littered with parchments and papers. A small leather bound book lay open on the desk and Cat flicked a few pages noting a few attempts at journal entries, none longer than a few lines and all little more than notes about weather, wind direction, and a few random numbers.

The drawers of the desk contained nothing more interesting than quills, bottles of ink, and parchment, as well as a few careworn novels. There were silk stockings, scarves, and some pieces of jewellery that Cat noted were of considerable interest if only for their complete lack of value. It struck her that the Miss Lillian was either so untrusting she wouldn’t bring her good jewellery aboard or so without funds that the valueless but pretty stones Cat held were all she had in the way of good jewellery.

She carefully replaced the items, making a note to ask Fletcher what he made of the discovery before she moved on to look over the rest of the cabin.

She searched under the mattress and in the large drawer which slid out from under the bed, after finding nothing of note she set about the cupboards, where she rifled through folded clothes, cloaks, heavy skirts, and bodices but nothing resembling a map. She then opened the large travelling trunk at the end of the bed and discovered much the same. Then, just as she was about to dismiss the travelling trunk, she pulled back a blanket to reveal a wooden box.

Cat’s heart beat faster as she slid the wooden box out and carried it over to the bed. It was locked.

She sighed heavily, certain that inside this innocuous looking container was everything she was looking for. She must have been searching the room for close to thirty minutes already but at this point, she had to go on, she had to find out.

Quickly she went back to the drawer with the jewellery and dug about for a few good hairpins. Then she set the candle back in its holder and went about picking the lock.

She’d only ever picked a lock once before. It had been just over a year ago when she’d been looking for the dowry papers regarding her father’s choice of potential husband for her. She’d ripped them to shreds the moment she’d found them. So disgusted was she at the amount needed to bribe a rich old man to take her as his bride. That was the night she had escaped from her father. Charging into the night on horseback and seeking her freedom with a marriage to Michael. He had wanted no dowry; he loved her without payment. Cracking that lock had opened a new world of adventure to her. She wondered what this new treasure box would bring.

It was a slow and careful business. She’d had hours of undisturbed time in her father’s study but now she didn’t know how long she had before being discovered and she had only the light from the flickering candle to help.

Cat stood with her eyes closed, concentrating hard on the movement of the pins inside the lock. She had little idea how long she was standing in the dark but the candle had almost burnt out when she finally heard the satisfying click. She took a deep breath filled with nervous excitement as she lifted the lid on the wooden box.

It contained a few brass instruments which she recognised as a compass, spyglass, astrolabe, and the sextant she’d seen the Miss Lillian playing with. They were all instruments she had only recently learned about as she had seen them carried about by the officers aboard ship, although those didn’t look nearly as expensive as the ones the wooden box contained. It struck Cat as more than a little odd that this woman would have only cheap jewellery and yet hidden away were expensive brass instruments that she couldn’t use.

Cat put the instruments aside and pulled out a small red leather book that lay underneath. Embossed on the front, in gold lettering, were the words ‘Fortune Favours the Brave’ and she knew this must be what she had come to find. Excitedly she opened it and began flicking through the pages by the light of the candle. But it contained little more than gibberish; signs and symbols that meant nothing to her. She felt she recognised some of them as Greek letters or astrological symbols but it was utterly indecipherable.

Frustrated, Cat tossed the book aside with a deep sigh and went back to the box.

Empty apart from a last piece of parchment, folded and squashed at the bottom.

Cat didn’t want to get her hopes up; she knew it may just be another blank scrap or a half-finished letter. But filled with nervous excitement, her fingers trembling and the candle flickering, she pulled out the parchment. Her breath caught in her chest as she carefully unfolded it then lay the mysterious document on the bed.

It was a map. She laughed in excited disbelief.

It showed an island and a great curving line of symbols she recognised from the red book. Alongside the island, a scroll had been depicted with columns of strange lettering clearly not in English or any other language she recognised. But what caught her eye, what made her heart beat faster in her chest was, just at the Northern curve of one of the bays, a great, black ‘X’.

Quickly, she went back to the red book, searching through to find the symbols she’d seen. The symbols weren’t entirely unfamiliar there were alchemical symbols, astrological symbols, and she even recognised a few nautical symbols. Cat wondered if the map was encrypted and it struck her that the book must be the key.

Within moments she started excitedly cross-referencing, wondering if she could work out which island the map referred to, if it was indeed where they were heading if there really was treasure to be found. Then suddenly there was a loud bang overhead.

Cat stopped. Her heart pounding, she strained her ears to listen further.

There were raised voices in the room above. She had outstayed her welcome. So close to uncovering a mystery she had only gone and stumbled on another and now she had to leave.

As quickly and as quietly as she could, she hurriedly replaced the items in the box and then placed the box back in the trunk, trying to do a sweep around and return the mess she had created to a sense of normality, hoping that the box being unlocked would somehow go unnoticed when suddenly, just as she closed the lid to the trunk, the door to the cabin swung open.

“Who the hell are you?”

Chapter Twenty-Four
Unmasked

Lily held her brass knife up to the intruder’s throat.

Fear and anger coursed through her body in equal measure and the blade trembled slightly as she held the boy’s gaze.

She wasn’t sure if she recognised him. She’d kept herself so far away from everyone that she wasn’t sure if this boy was a crewman or a stowaway.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my quarters?” she repeated angrily.

“I was lost, Miss.”

There was an arrogant, superior roguishness about the boy that Lily did not trust.

“Lost!” she said with incredulity, “Aboard a ship you have served upon for over two months?” She grabbed the boy’s shirt and pulled him closer, wanting to look him straight in the eye as she reprimanded him.

But something about him was odd. Very odd.

Lily scanned the boy’s delicate features and his smooth, soft skin.

She was reminded of her childhood, growing up in her mother’s chaotic house of twenty or so women, visiting strangers, and all night soirees. There was one particular party which would happen only by special request when the specially tailored suits would appear and the pretty girls would become very pretty boys…

Lily lifted the intruder's chin and confirmed her suspicions.

“You’re no boy,” she hissed, throwing the imposter backwards.

The girl looked at her, startled and stammering, her face was a picture of confusion and panic.

“I… I—” The girl frantically looked around the room as if for a weapon or a way out. Lily thrust her knife forward again. She wanted to make certain this intruder knew who was in charge here.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” Lily almost growled the words, “Now, who exactly are you?”

“My-my name is Catherine,” the girl whispered.

All the roguishness of her previous statement had gone and Lily was a little taken aback when she recognised a hint of status in the girl’s new accent.

“I’m Lady Catherine Cadogan… and I am in terrible danger.”

Lily lowered her knife, “Danger?”

“I am being… pursued. It’s… that’s why I’m in disguise and why I had to find a way to work my passage out of the country. I-I had to escape. I couldn’t let them find me and if the crew find out I’m a woman I… I don’t know what will become of me! Please! You must help me.”

Lily was struck dumb by this strange reversal.

“You have to protect me!” Catherine continued, “You mustn’t let anyone know what you have discovered.” She spoke quickly, the words falling from her mouth, desperate and beseeching.

Lily knew this girl, this ‘Catherine’, was right about the consequences, and her heart was pulled a little by her plight but she held back. Despite the wine in her blood, she was still cautious and unwilling to be so favourable so quickly.

“Who’s after you?”

The girl looked away. Lily couldn’t tell if she was ashamed, embarrassed, frightened or perhaps just thinking up the rest of her story.

“My father,” Catherine looked up and Lily noticed there was a glisten in her eye as if holding back tears. “My father arranged a marriage for me, an older man. He is very wealthy, but he made his money from trade… the worst kind of trade, you understand. He wants me for my father’s title and the class it would allow him but you must believe me he is a terrible man! I couldn’t marry him, I couldn’t. I ran. I escaped in the night and we ran—”

“We?”

“I was helped. The ship’s carpenter, you know him?”

Lily thought quickly; she was sure she remembered a man referred to as the carpenter; a giant of a man, more than six feet tall, bearded, kindly, one of the few aboard she didn’t feel threatened by. She nodded. “I know him.”

“He helped me escape, to get to Bristol, disguise myself as his son and get aboard a ship. He has risked everything to help me escape.”

“Are you two…?” Lily let the question hang in the air. She wasn’t certain why she asked it and Catherine seemed to take a moment to understand what she was getting at.

“No!” she said suddenly, “no, no nothing like that. He is like a father to me. A real father.”

Lily nodded. She held the knife limply at her side. This girl, who couldn’t have been much younger than herself, suddenly didn’t seem like so much of a threat, but then…

“Why you are in my room?”

“I…” the girl floundered and Lily’s grip on her knife tightened.

“I’m a woman,” Catherine said stupidly.

“We have established that,” Lily replied, not without irritation.

“You’re a woman.”

Lily looked at her, dumbfounded. “You are not answering my question!”

“I … needed…” Catherine said slowly. She raised an eyebrow and glanced around the room.

Lily noticed that her sheets were rumpled as if they had been pulled about, there was a drawer hanging open and for the first time, it dawned on her that her room had been searched. She opened her mouth to admonish and then a thought struck.

“Oh!” Lily’s countenance was utterly transformed. Hurriedly she put her knife away, suddenly feeling foolish and apologetic. “I… erm…” she glanced around her room uncertainly, “did you… did you find what you were looking for?” she asked, not wanting any details of what the poor girl must have gone through for two months aboard a ship with an all-male crew and having to conceal everything about her physical self.

“I did,” Catherine replied with a smile and Lily was relieved that they wouldn’t have to discuss the issue in further depth.

“Right. Good,” Lily said, at a loss as to how to proceed. She had met titled, noble women before but she didn’t know of the accepted societal etiquette for when you found a social superior skulking in your room wearing men’s clothing.

“So… what will you do with me now?” Catherine asked.  Her voice had a softness to it yet she commanded attention, as if she was naturally at home when in charge; a true noblewoman.

“I don’t know,” Lily replied, “I’m not going to turn you in.” She was gratified to see Catherine breathe out as if she had been holding onto that breath since the moment Lily had walked in but she remembered not to give away all her cards in one go, “At least, not yet,” she finished.

Catherine nodded, narrowing her eyes slightly and standing up straighter as if weighing up her opponent. “So, what do you want from me?” she asked.

Lily was taken aback; she had not intended to insinuate it was some sort of blackmail attempt. “Nothing! I…” she floundered, “I simply want to make it clear that I have not yet confirmed my thoughts on the matter. I am not some foolish child that trusts anyone with a tragic tale!”

“No! Of course not, I apologise. I didn’t mean to offend!” Catherine bowed slightly, lowering her gaze and Lily suddenly wondered if she had been too harsh. As if this poor girl hadn’t been through enough already, she was now being accused of being a fraudster and threatened with the revelation of her secret.

Lily quickly reassured. “I will, of course, protect you,” she said softly, and to Lily’s relief the girl looked up with a smile, “I have heard of other young women in a similar plight to yours, although none brave enough to join the merchant navy. I will do all that I can to … to aid you in your escape. Besides,” she added suddenly, “it will be nice to have a friend.”

Lily wondered if perhaps she had gone too far and worried that the wine was making her insensible, but Catherine smiled a deep, warm smile then reached out and took Lily’s hand. Her hand was warm and gentle, it had been so long since Lily had been touched by anyone she didn’t realise how much she had longed for contact.

“Thank you,” Catherine said, “you have been so kind. I almost feel a fool for not coming to you sooner.”

“Well, you are here now, and that is the most important thing.”

Catherine nodded and pulled her hand away. “I must go before I am missed.”

“Of course.”

“But,” Catherine looked at her, she had deep, dark eyes, “perhaps we could talk again?”

Lily’s heart gave an impromptu flutter and she found herself becoming suddenly shy under the gaze of this girl at the thought of having a companion, a friend in such a barren and alien world, someone whose secret she was defending and someone she might just be able to trust.

“I should like that,” she said.

Chapter Twenty-Five
Insubordination

Cat stood in the unfamiliar corridor and shook her head, suppressing a laugh.

“Fool of a girl!” she whispered.

Everywhere below deck was cramped, narrow, and with low ceilings; the aftcastle was no exception. There was a little light from a lantern with a dying candle and Cat could see she was between four small doors.

She wanted to get straight back and tell the others everything. She could still remember enough of the map to draw the outline of the island, she was sure of it. She recognised some of the symbols and wondered if John or Fletcher might have some insight, even Tommy could be helpful. He had been less hostile to her as each day passed and she hoped her discovery would finally start to put all the bad blood behind them. It was as if the veil in front of her was lifting and the uncertainty facing all of them was clearing: riches would bring power. They could go where they wanted and do as they wished. Cat could be free in the New World, never dependent on anyone again. She realised she could buy herself a farmstead or an Inn, perhaps even get herself a ship: it didn’t matter what, just as long as she was free to do as she wished.

Quietly, hardly making a sound with her bare feet on the wooden floor, Cat eased open the door in front and peered into the blackness beyond before slipping through.

She wondered how close the ship was to this island and who among the crew knew of it. She’d found it so easy to turn her capture on its head and get that silly girl to believe they could be friends. She was sure she could go back, get more information, perhaps discover every last detail. But that would be to no end if the accursed ship was still in the hands of the fat captain and his devil of a Quartermaster.

Standing still in the dark Cat listened to make sure she was still alone.

There was no real assurance of pay at the end of this voyage and so they might be forced to sign up for the return journey just to see some funds. Their desire to leave the ship at their destination could be seen as a desertion and that’s if their destination was at all desirable. What if they travelled all that way, patient and humble under the authority of these rogues, only to have nothing to show at the end of it? To be starving wretches begging on unfamiliar streets? Or an unfamiliar jungle?

The treasure map would put an end to that concern.

Cat ran her hand along the wall, trying to remain silent and hoping that she was in another corridor and not some cupboard or officers' quarters.

If this voyage was paid for on the promise of that hidden treasure then surely it was a treasure worth finding, even if it meant a fight. Every day aboard this damned ship was a fight; a mutiny would be a pleasure!

Everything was already in place; she had a man in each faction. By distancing themselves from each other, Fletcher, John, and Tommy had each made friends, each worked out loyalties of various crewman, each learned of the workings of the ship from a different perspective. With just herself and her three chess pieces, she was certain she could come up with a strategy to take charge of a mutiny. But everything would have to be perfect and planned to the very last detail.

Cat fumbled forward and found the handle of another door. Relieved, she opened it a crack and found it was lit from below and contained a ladder leading further down.

She would have to carefully plan each step. She would run through strategy with John. In the past, he had always been instrumental in the smuggling ring. This venture would be utterly different and yet she started to feel a sparkle, something of the joy from what they had all comfortingly come to call ‘the good old days’.

Filled with an excitement that made even her fingers tingle with exhilaration, Cat hopped onto the ladder and descended into the lower corridor.

“What are you doing in here, boy?”

Cat spun around. Her stomach twisted at the familiar tone of the barked question and to her horror there, in the lower deck of the aftcastle, stood Master Kingsley, his face half lit by his lantern and crimson with rage. Cat felt certain she was not the first person to have angered him this night.

“Goin’ about me duty, Sir,” she lied, praying he would simply send her on her way with a barked order or angry reprimand.

“What duty?” he spat.

Cat opened and closed her mouth several times, thinking hard.

“Checking lanterns, Sir,” she said finally, congratulating herself for her quick thinking.

Kingsley loomed over her. She dare not look up into his face, so stood staring at her feet waiting for her cue to leave. She could feel him adding the duties on to her schedule and she wondered how many nights of watch duty she would be punished with.

“Where are your candles?”

“Used ‘em all, Sir.”

But, rather than appease him, her answer made him fly into a rage. He grabbed her shirt tightly and pulled her forward, forcing her to look up at him.

“And your tapers, Boy? And your flint? And who gave you the damned orders to check the lanterns?”

Cat was startled into silence, she had never seen him this angry, never seen him grab at crewmen before.

“WHO GAVE YOU THE ORDERS?” he screamed at her.

There was only one person aboard ship whose orders he couldn’t question, so it was the only card Cat could possibly play.

“The Captain,” she managed to utter.

“Liar!” he cried and threw Cat backwards. She slammed against the wall and it knocked the wind out of her.

“Why are you down here, Rat? What are you thieving?”

“I’m no thief!” she said in quick defence but as soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. However, she was not prepared for Kingsley’s reaction.

With one good clean swipe of his fist, he punched her square in the side of her face, the shock sending her reeling. She stumbled to the floor and felt as if a cloud had crossed her vision, taking her senses and leaving her with nothing but rage.

She was instantly on her feet and fighting back.

A strike to Kingsley’s chin, a punch to his stomach, and a kick to his shins. She lashed out with everything she had. She barely felt his retaliatory strikes.

But she was no match.

He was nearly twice her size and had years of brawling experience. He had her in his grip before she’d managed a few clean strikes.

He held both her arms and twisted them behind her. She wriggled and pulled but only served to tighten his grip.

Then the realisation of what had she’d done struck home.

She wasn’t a free woman defending herself against unlawful attack. She was a boy serving aboard a ship. A ship with rules and with punishments.

She felt more than heard Kingsley chuckle as he held her.

“You’ve struck an officer, Boy,” he said with a sinister whisper close to her ear. The warmth and closeness of his breath made her sick, “You’re going to regret that.”

Chapter Twenty-Six
Cat O’ Nine Tails

Jonathan Strong stood, wringing his hands, on the lower deck of the Sea Nymph. The morning was bright, clear, and warm with a good breeze filling the sails. Some men aboard said they must be heading to the Cape of Good Hope, others thought that they were on the far side of the Atlantic and would hit the Spanish Main any day now. But Strong paid little heed to the weather. He cast his eyes up and down the deck, pacing this way and that like a dog whose master has not returned.

“Fletcher!” he shouted, suddenly leaping forward and grabbing the man’s arm as he saw him pass, “Fletch?”

“Aye, Strong?” Fletcher replied, a little taken aback at his sudden harassment.

Strong lowered his voice and cast his eyes about for eavesdroppers, then whispered, “You ‘ear word o’ Jack? He’s been gone this whole night! No one’s seen her— him!”

Fletcher took Strong’s hand and removed it carefully from where he was grabbing at Fletcher’s shirt.

“Jack,” Fletcher replied in the calmest voice he could muster, “is likely with the other lads, resting or working in the bilge. There is no cause for worry, Strong, you’re like an old Mother Goose!” Fletcher smiled broadly and turned to walk away but Strong grabbed his shirt and pulled him back again.

“T’other lads ain’t seen hide nor hair, Fletch!”

“Strong, I am certain that—”

But Strong never discovered what Fletcher was certain of, for at that moment there was a shout from the aftcastle. The Quartermaster demanded their attention.

“Crewman! Gather round! We have a new taker for the lash.”

The crew used any excuse to drop their work at the best of times and with Kingsley giving them permission to cease their labour and witness the lash it would have been an opportunity for celebration, had it not been such an unpleasant spectacle. There was a general murmur about the deck and Strong’s grip on Fletcher’s shirt tightened as his skin turned a greyish white.

There was a hush over the crew as the small figure was brought out from below deck. Strong moved this way and that, trying desperately to get a clear view and then, as Catherine Meadows stood up straight with her hair loose about her shoulders and her face defiant, Strong felt his knees give way.

“Careful, Old Man!” Fletcher said, catching Strong before he fell and helping him regain his footing, “we’ll take care of the lad, it’ll be grand, you wait.”

“For the crime of insubordination, Jack Strong has been sentenced to twenty lashes.”

Some of the crew cheered but Strong turned a greyer shade of pale. “Twenty! No man ‘as had more an’ a dozen! I gotta stop this!”

“Can you stand?” Fletcher said quickly.

“Aye. Aye, I reckon so,” Strong said as he leant on the deck rail, extricating himself from Fletcher’s stabilising grasp.

“Wait here. Do naught,” Fletcher whispered. Any jaunty, reassuring smile had gone, his face was grave and thoughtful. “I may have an idea.”

Strong nodded carefully but Fletcher didn’t see. He was already looking off into the distance as he began making his way through the crowd of crewmen, which was growing steadily with men being pulled from duty or roused from their slumber for the display.

Glenister, the well-built, stubble-faced, chiselled and grizzled Boatswain, stepped forward with his cat o’ nine tails. Strong was proud to see that Cathy was stoic. As her hands were untied, she was defiant with not a trace of fear or concern upon her face.

“Remove your shirt, boy.”

Cathy and Strong baulked at the same moment. He took a step forward and stopped. He was desperate to do something, anything, but not certain what. Frantically, he tried to think what he could do, what was safe to do, and what was sensible to do. But Fletcher’s advice that he do naught was still at the forefront of his mind.

Cathy remained silent and still as Kingsley furiously repeated his order.

“Thirty lashes, Boy! Now remove your shirt!”

Some of the crew were murmuring, unsure if it was bravery, rebellion, stupidity, or fear that made the young lad so defiant of his masters.

“Thirty-nine lashes!” Kingsley ordered.

It was the maximum. One more was a death sentence. But everyone knew men died from fewer.

Desperately, Strong pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He had no plan.

Suddenly that woman, Exquemelin, appeared all hat and no substance. She distracted Kingsley for a moment trying to talk to him, pawing at him, but he ushered her away and turned with even more rage to the men guarding the prisoner.

“Remove the boy’s shirt,” he ordered them.

The men stepped forward and, to Strong’s horror, they ripped off the shirt.

They laughed and stepped back to reveal what appeared to be a boy in a girdle.

“What’s this?” Kingsley spat, infuriated, “Armour, is it? Did you hope to spare yourself the pain? One hundred lashes!” He pulled a knife from his belt and tossed it to one of the guardsmen. “Cut it off.”

Strong looked round for Fletcher. ‘Where’s the man gone?’ he thought. He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t next to him, ready to partake in whatever action they could.

‘Few men can survive a hundred lashes,’ he was panicking, ‘few men.’

Then suddenly there she was.

No longer ‘Jack’. By a long way, she was no longer Jack; her hair was loose in the breeze, her eyes defiant, and her chest bare. There was no shame about her manner. She stood like Queen of the Amazon held captive by savages. The deck-full of crewmen were struck silent. Not one had even suspected.

There was no laughter now. All faces turned to Kingsley. He had been fooled, just as they. But an unspoken question hung thick in the air: how would he react?

Master Kingsley glanced at the Captain who stood a little way off barely paying heed to the situation. Strong thought the look was less to seek encouragement and more to ascertain that it was indeed Kingsley himself who ruled.

The Quartermaster turned to Cathy.

The crewmen held their breath.

“One hundred lashes for striking an officer, one hundred lashes for defiance of orders, and one hundred lashes for your vile deceit!”

The crew erupted. Arguing and shouting against the death sentence but not one man stepped forward to challenge the ruling. Cathy was thrown against a wooden grating, her feet and arms spread and tied, her bare back awaiting the cat o’ nine tails.

Strong fought to hold his place as the crewmen all jostled forward for a good view. He had to save her. He couldn’t allow this. He had to prevent her harm at all costs. He’d been helpless in the past. He’d lost a son. He’d lost a wife. He could only stand by while sickness took them. He had been unable to save them but he would be damned if he was going to stand by now.

The first strike cracked the air and was followed by a guttural howl from Cathy. Anger, fear, and rage combined in one cry and, upon hearing it, Strong snapped.

He leapt forward and wrestled with the Boatswain, wrenching the cat o’ nine tails from his grasp. Then, in a moment of mad defiance, he cracked the whip, lashing the Boatswain, who reeled back in shock.

A great roar exploded from the crew. Strong turned to face the seething mass of bodies and faces and readied his whip to defend himself and Cathy against every last man aboard ship.

But, to his astonishment, rather than turn against him, the crew of forty men, haggard, exhausted, and unarmed charged at the Boatswain and the Quartermaster.

Kingsley, his face a picture of surprised fear, drew his sword and swung wildly but was set upon by five men, two to each limb and one who struck his face without restraint. Whilst the disarmed Boatswain was knocked to the ground and a rally of kicks and punches was rounded upon his crouching figure.

The mutiny had begun.

PART III: UNDER A BLACK FLAG

Chapter Twenty-Seven
MUTINY!

Tied to a wooden grating, Cat could see nothing of the chaos behind her.

She could hear shouts and crashes as men tumbled around the deck. She fought with the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles, the searing pain of the wounds from the lash were like fire. It felt as though the whip had struck across her whole body, tearing flesh out as it went. She never wanted to feel anything like that pain again and didn’t think she could have lived through twenty let alone three hundred.

Kingsley had meant to kill her. She had no doubt of that.

Suddenly there was a cry to her left, she managed to turn her head as a man was thrown against the grating. His eyes met hers for a moment and it took Cat a second to realise that his gaze was lifeless before he slumped to the floor.

She pulled desperately at the ties. She had to get free; she was utterly defenceless and at any moment she could be struck. Suddenly an ankle was free. She looked around.

“John?” she called, desperately as the other ankle was cut loose from its tie. But to her surprise she saw Lily, standing over her holding a small brass knife. “You...?” she started but had no words.

“It’s all right,” Lily said as she cut the ropes on her wrists. Cat stumbled as she stepped away from the grate, looking at the chaos on the deck. Everywhere, there were men fighting with planks of wood, lengths of rope, and bare fists, and there were scattered bodies of the dead and wounded, but neither John nor Fletcher were anywhere to be seen.

Suddenly Miss Lillian wrapped her shawl around Cat’s shoulders. Cat winced as the silky material brushed her wounds.

“I’ve got you,” Lily said, guiding Cat toward the door of the aftcastle.

“No,” Cat said, turning to try to get back into the melee. “My friends…”

“You’re wounded,” Lily said, pulling her back, “You’re in no shape to aid them now.” Lily half dragged Cat away from the mass of bodies, gunshots, shouting and screaming. The sound of sword against sword and the cries of pain were all muted as they closed the door of the cabin behind them.

Lily led her to the bed and told her to lie still as she hurried about fetching water and cloth, but Cat was desperate to know what was going on.

“Did you see my friends?” she asked, trying to suppress her pain.

“Shh,” Lily said as she returned with a bowl of water and a cloth. “Lay on your front, I’ll take care of those wounds—”

“I’m all right, I just—”

“I know,” Lily replied, “but get on the bed.” She was firm, holding Cat’s gaze until Cat realised that she wasn’t going to give in. Reluctantly she let the shawl drop and clambered onto her front on the bed, her whole body tense waiting for the pain of Lily’s fussing.

She winced as the cloth made contact with her skin.

“Sorry,” Lily said, but continued to gently tend to the gashes that ran across Cat’s back.

Cat held tightly onto the bed, her knuckles white and her jaw clenched shut as Lily delicately cleaned the congealing blood.

“It’s alright,” Lily cooed, as Cat writhed at her gentle touch. She was unused to such sensitive, careful treatment and when Lily placed a soft, warm hand on her shoulder to tell her it was over, she could have cried in relief and gratitude.

“How bad is it?” Cat asked through gritted teeth.

“It will heal… I’m sure,” she said, starting to tear a white cotton shift into long strips.

Cat sat up slowly on the edge of the bed, only now allowing her jaw to unclench. She felt vulnerable, not just for her nakedness but also her pain. She didn’t want to reveal her weaknesses to anyone and yet Lily’s careful nursemaiding somehow put her at ease. Cat looked up at her and realised she felt safe with this girl. The realisation made her feel even more vulnerable and when Lily began to tenderly bandage her naked torso Cat became agitated, her heart started racing at Lily’s closeness and she was eager to leave. She needed to get out of the tiny room and be anywhere but cooped up with this girl.

She had to go.

“Done?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

“Yes, all done.”

“Thank you,” Cat replied, and stood up to go.

“What are you doing?” Lily asked.

“I have to go back.”

“You’ll be killed!”

“There are men who risked their lives for me and they might already be dead. Do you honestly expect me to cower in here?” Cat couldn’t suppress her disgust at Lily’s cowardice. This woman was typical of a kind Cat knew well; women of status and dignity but no substance. Women who were ready to prance around a ship, willing to walk the deck like queens of the ocean but swooning at the first sign of trouble and forcing men to fight in their stead.

“Then I’m coming with you,” Lily said, grabbing her knife.

Cat was dumbstruck. She opened her mouth to speak but at that moment the door burst open.

Cat turned, ready for a fight.

“John!”

His breath was heavy, there was a cut on his cheek, his hair was ruffled, he’d somehow gained a sword, and his clothes were torn and bloodied. But he was alive!

“How dare you enter my room unannounced?” Lily demanded, holding her knife aloft.

“I got yer shirt,” he said holding it out to Cat as if this were some summer afternoon and she’d left a shawl in the garden and not a mutiny aboard a ship out to sea in which he had just saved her life.

“You’re wounded,” she said.

“‘Tis nothin’,” he said, wiping the blood from his cheek, “What of yer…erm…” He left the rest unsaid.

“I’m well,” she replied, “thanks to you.”

John smiled warmly and Cat could see the relief washing through him.

“How goes the fight?” she asked.

“I know not, I saw ye were pulled off and thought of nothing but fighting my way through to this cabin. I’ve not seen Fletch… nor young Tommy.”

“Then let’s be off,” Cat said, making to leave.

“Lady Catherine,” Lily said, “your shirt.”

Since her dignity had been forcibly removed from her not half an hour before she hardly saw the need for false modesty now. But she relented and slipped her shirt back on.

Then all three of them headed out into the fray.

Chapter Twenty-Eight
No Quarter!

The corridors of the ship were awash with noise and fighting.

It was impossible to tell who was with whom. Only the officers had ready swords and pistols, all the other weapons were locked in the armoury so the crewmen were relying on whatever they could lay their hands upon to try to gain the advantage.

Almost as soon as the three of them stepped from the officers’ quarters into the lower deck they were faced with a thin but muscular man who wore a ragged waistcoat over his bare chest, he brandished a stolen officer’s cutlass and a marlin spike.

Cat knew the man as Parsons, often full of laughter with a filthy joke. The last few weeks, as his sunken eyes grew grey, tired, and watery and his shoulders began to bow, his temper had become more hostile.

Cat stepped back to gain her footing, ready to take Parsons on, certain that the three of them together could take on one foul loyalist. But to her surprise, he grinned broadly at John.

“How goes it?” John asked, patting him so hard on the shoulder he staggered slightly.

“Tommy’s leadin’ an assault on the armoury, once we’re in, they don’t stand a chance!”

“Lead the way then, Son.”

Parsons looked over at Cat and Lily, then shook his head, “They need hands on deck, there’s still officers holding the helm.”

“Aye, deck it is.”

Parsons nodded and continued off toward the armoury.

“I say we go to Tommy,” Cat said, angrily, certain he had simply wanted the women out of the way.

“Nay,” replied John, heading up on deck, “We go where we’re needed.”

Cat shook her head and followed him up and outside. The day was bright and clear, the sun was already warm and there was a good breeze to carry the ship forward, despite no-one at the helm.

The three of them stood, taking in the scene, unsure what to do next. A dozen or so men were at each other’s throats, a pair of uniformed officers were on the quarter deck fighting to hold off an attack from an armed crewman forcing his way up the ladder toward them. Two Able Seamen, bloodied, bruised, and evenly matched were wrestling for a cutlass, and there were bodies strewn across the deck, some moaning in agony, others so still they would never move again.

Desperately, Cat looked around for Kingsley, she knew he would be at the root of the defence but he was nowhere to be seen.

She turned to see a man charging across the deck toward her, it took her a moment to realise it was a grinning Fletcher. He held an officer’s sword and his cheeks were ruddy and flushed as if he had been running for his life.

“Apologies,” he said quickly and then ran past them down to below deck. Although Cat had never known him to have raised a sword in his life he looked natural, fearsome and in control.

Cat suddenly caught a glimpse of the Quartermaster, just a flash of his uniform through the window of the Captain’s office, she took off at a run.

“Lady Catherine!”

She heard Lily call out but ignored her. Nothing mattered except ensuring Kingsley fell.

But as she charged across the main deck she caught sight of Tommy. Flat on his back, his throat squashed by the knee of the fearsome uniformed officer atop him. He should have been leading the charge on the armoury. She couldn’t understand why he was there.

Looking between her brother-in-law and the Captain’s office, Cat hesitated for just a moment before running over and shoving the officer so suddenly and with such force that he splayed out on the deck and she landed flat on Tommy’s chest. They all scrambled to their feet and the officer made a dive for Tommy. Cat lashed out with her bare hands. She grabbed hold of the man’s head and he cried out as she bent his head backwards, her fingers pushing in his eye sockets as he flailed wildly.

Tommy landed punch after punch on the man’s exposed chest but the officer grabbed hold of Cat and dug his fingers into her flesh, tearing her arms from his head then twisting her off and throwing her to the deck.

Flat on her wounded back with the enraged officer looming down upon her, Cat was scared for just a moment when suddenly he collapsed to the ground as Tommy struck him hard on the side of the head. He didn’t move again.

Breathing heavily, she looked up at Tommy expecting a scowl or a reprimand for barging in where she wasn’t wanted but instead he extended his hand.

“Thanks,” he said, helping her to her feet.

“T’was nothing,” she said, knowing this was the most important moment they had ever shared. “What of the armoury?” she asked.

“‘Tis already cracked,” he said with a smile as he picked his cutlass off the floor, “Where’s John?” he asked

Cat didn’t know, she had assumed they were right behind her. She looked around the deck in a panic.

Back to back, squaring up to two officers and two loyal crewmen, Strong was flailing wildly with a sword he’d never been trained to use, and Lily, showing not an ounce of fear, was ready to fight off the advance with nothing but her little brass blade

“Let’s even the odds,” Cat called to Tommy. He nodded and they charged forward.

Cat leapt onto one of the officers, piggybacking him as she squeezed his throat with her arm. He dropped his sword and desperately clawed at her, spinning this way and that before falling hard to the floor, with Cat trapped underneath. The fall knocked the air from her lungs but her grip didn’t loosen.

Then John was there and with a thud, he struck the back of the officer’s head with the hilt of the sword. The officer stopped moving, Cat released her grip, and John kicked the man off her.

She stood noticing the other two crewmen were now on the floor and Lily and Tommy were tying the other officer to the mast as he called out curse upon curse in their name. Cat laughed and as she looked around, she saw more officers down or being rounded up with a blade to their necks.

Victories were being claimed across the ship and presently it appeared the mutineers had gained the advantage.

“I suppose,” Cat said breathing hard, “we are now a pirate ship.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine
A Pirating

While the rest of the crew checked on the wounded, Cat noticed Bartholomew Hood quietly walk up toward the Captain.

He lay, wide-eyed and slumped against a barrel. Hood stood over the dead man for a moment before shutting the corpse’s eyes, then taking the Captain’s sword and hat.

No one remarked on this silent exchange of power and Cat realised that the true mutiny had started long before that morning.

There were four men, including the Captain, who could not be saved and the remaining crew made short work of wrapping them in cloth, weighing their bodies down with shot and sand from the ballast, then throwing them overboard. Many of the crew had mumbled their complaints at having to make the effort but, to Cat’s surprise, Hood had insisted that they would deal with the dead respectfully and this had immediately silenced dissent.

The living were more difficult to deal with.

Under Bartholomew Hood’s instruction, the remaining uniformed officers and crewmen who had been loyal to the Captain were rounded up and made to form a line on deck.

Cat watched from the crowd as Bartholomew Hood paced up and down in front of the men.

He spoke of the poor treatment that had been thrust upon the crew, but then told the men that he was merciful and was going to spare their lives.

At this proclamation, shouts of rebellion rose from the crewman, scattered around the deck. Hood silenced them with a stern look and a wave of his hand, he then ordered two of his loyal men to ready a launch boat.

“As I am sure you can understand,” he said, “I must have only loyal men aboard this ship, however, I have readied a vessel for the men still loyal to Captain Brindle.”

He indicated the small mastless launch, and Cat noticed Hood’s men remove the oars and put them aside. Brindle’s loyalists turned varying shades of pale as each began to realise they would end their lives in that boat.

The young, trembling redhead, Joshua, was first in the line. Hood walked slowly up to him, stared into his face for a good long while, and then asked, “Where does thy loyalty lay, son?”

“To you, S-Sir,” Joshua stammered.

Hood turned to the rest of crew, a look of sheer delight on his face. “Did you hear that, lads?” There were a great many ayes in response.

Cat wondered what would happen to the boy. He had always been kind to her but he’d worked with the officers and the Captain, running errands for them on many a shift and she could understand why he thought he was doing right by staying loyal to those wretches.

Suddenly, Hood grabbed him by the head, pulled him out of the line-up, ruffled his hair with a deep belly laugh and threw the boy into the crowd, who all grabbed him while cheering. Cat was relieved to see that they had been willing to overlook the boy’s naive loyalty to his masters.

It was not so easy for the next man.

“And where does thy loyalty lay?”

“You’re a murderer!” It was Cobham, the loyal wolfhound, with the long moustache. A man Cat herself had overlooked for sleeping on duty. His eyes were red-raw with exhaustion, he was frail and shaking, Cat was surprised that a man so ill-treated by the officers could remain loyal to them, she couldn’t comprehend his thinking. She wanted to scream at him, tell him he was a fool.

Cat expected Hood to counter him with words, or strike him with a fist, to demonstrate his superiority in some way. Instead, Hood simply shook his head sadly and pushed Cobham toward the launch boat, where the two loyal crewmen forced him to climb in. He sat proudly not looking at the crew but instead looking out to sea. And Cat realised he was looking out at his deathbed.

Hood went through the other men, one by one. He gained another crew member, but the others remained loyal to the old Captain as did the uniformed officers. Including, to everyone’s delight, the vile Boatswain, Glenister. When Hood reached Kingsley, Cat could almost hear the tension onboard rise.

How would Hood treat this man?

Hood was tall and he came nose to nose with the snarling Kingsley, whose thinly curled lips were ready to spit an answer to the question.

But Hood said nothing. He stared at Kingsley for a long time. So long, Cat began to wonder if he had forgotten what he was at.

Suddenly Hood grabbed Kingsley tricorn hat and he threw it into the crowd, who cheered and began to play with it. Then he pushed Kingsley toward the launch without ever giving him the option to plead his loyalty.

Cat cheered with the others.

As the launch was lowered into the water, Cat noted that Kingsley didn’t look up; he remained perfectly still, staring into the middle distance as his remaining forlorn officers sat sad and bedraggled around him.

Cat almost felt sorry for the others, having to be stuck in a launch with Kingsley. But she reminded herself that each one of them had been given fair chance to renounce their loyalty and stay aboard. For the first time since leaving port, Cat felt as though they had a Captain capable of running a ship.

Suddenly a shout came from up in the rigging. Cat looked up to see one of the men, she couldn’t tell who, bare-bottomed and slapping his backside in the direction of the launch boat. The rest of the crew cheered amidst raucous laughter.

Lily, standing close to Cat and looking as pale as her namesake, gripped the deck rail as if it was all that was keeping her from a swoon. She shook her head in disbelief. “This is awful,” she muttered, “just awful.”

“Who’re you to say what’s what?” It was Parsons, making a nuisance of himself. He looked angry and tired, the stubble of his new beard was flecked with grey and seemed to cling to his sunken cheeks like lichen on a rock.  “This ain’t your voyage no more,” he said, looming over Lily with a snarl that angered Cat in the pit of her stomach.

“She’s with me now,” Cat said, stepping between Lily and Parsons.

“And just who the ‘ell are you, ‘Jack’?” he spat.

“Jack’s with me,” Strong said from the crowd and all eyes turned to him, “I brought her aboard. She saved my life so t’was the least I could do to get her safe passage.”

“And what are you to us, Old Man?” a voice came from up in the rigging, Cat turned her eyes up but the sun was too bright to look for the speaker.

Cat knew the men were pumped up from their victory. They wanted to ensure a clean sweep, make sure no one hidden in their ranks would betray them or go against their wishes.

Cat did not want to be caught in their wrath and was angry with herself for stepping forward to protect Lily. John was in danger because this girl had shown her kindness, been tender to her. She cursed her sentimentality and decided she would not be so foolish again. She opened her mouth to condemn Lily, to throw her to the wolves before she sacrificed John.

“She saved my life an’ all,” Tommy called, standing forward and nodding to Cat. There was no smile but it warmed her almost more than she could bear to have her brother-in-law back on her side.

“Aye, she’s been a good crewman, lads,” Fletcher concluded but she noted he didn’t declare his solidarity with her. She didn’t begrudge him, in fact, she admired his full mastery of this new persona. “As I see it, there’s no sound reason to cast these ladies out. I see no sense in changing course neither. Not until we have all the facts at our disposal leastways.”

All eyes turned back to Cat and the woman she protected. She moved aside, there was no reason to protect Lily any longer; she wanted to make it clear she was siding with the crew. She wouldn’t be so stupid again.

As Cat turned she noticed Bartholomew Hood, he stood at the side of the ship, still watching the launch drift away, he was close enough to hear the dispute but it seemed to Cat that he was waiting.

“If you would be so kind,” Fletcher said to Lily, with a small bow, “As to divulge our location, route, and destination.”

“You have been told all you need to know,” Lily said, her chin raised, standing alone against the hoard.

Cat shook her head. Lily was not going to build their trust with that attitude.

“There is your need,” said Fletcher moving forward, he was quickly becoming the man to be reckoned with and Cat was beginning to quite enjoy his swagger, so long as it was working in her favour. Fletcher held his sword up, a gentle but menacing threat to Lily, “And then, Miss, there is ours.”

The crew bellowed, whooped and whistled their approval at his sass. They were thoroughly enjoying watching the day’s entertainment. Cat knew that so many of them, herself included, had dreamed of turning the tables on the haughty officers and the mysterious and aloof woman who appeared to be the grandmaster of the voyage. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t enjoying this interrogation as much as she should be. She shifted uncomfortably, looking from Fletcher to Lily and willing them both to say the right thing.

Lily glanced at Cat, her large eyes desperately seeking an ally and a shard of icy guilt pierced Cat’s stomach. She looked away.

Fletcher was Cat’s friend, Tommy was her brother-in-law, and John Strong was the most loyal friend a soul could have. She was on the side of the crew, and she was determined to get the treasure. She would be damned if she was going to help this haughty woman protect her secret. But she still couldn’t bring herself to meet those eyes.

“I…” Lily stammered, looking back to Fletcher, and Cat could see she was struggling to decide how to proceed.

“Throw her to the fish!” someone yelled.

“Aye,” came a voice from the rigging, “raid her rooms, we don’t need that little bitch!”

“I dunno lads, I reckon we could find a use for ‘er,” Parsons laughed as he shouted and the crew cheered his suggestion.

Cat closed her eyes. She couldn’t stand by and watch as these men harmed this girl, she would have to stand in their way… but if she did, what was to stop them turning on her?

She couldn’t face it if her own men turned on her.

She couldn’t face it if these men tore this girl to shreds like a pack of wolves.

Cat couldn’t move.

“I have a map,” Lily said, silencing the laughter.

“Many folks have maps, Miss.” The crew were in such a jubilant mood that they cheered almost every syllable Fletcher uttered, he was lapping up the attention like a player on the London stage and Cat noted he was playing his part to perfection.

“My Father was Captain Lewen Exquemelin.” There was a slight murmur amongst some of the crew but Fletcher seemed at as much of a loss as Cat, “He fought as a Privateer in the Spanish war of succession on behalf of Queen Anne but then, once he had news of her passing he was forced into hiding; uncertain if his Letter of Marque would still be valid. But he needn’t have worried for, a few months after his accession, the King granted the same licence and my father was permitted to continue in his cause.”

“That’s a pretty enough tale, Miss, but please forgive those lads that have fallen into a slumber whilst hearing it.” Laughter echoed around the deck.

“Whilst in hiding,” Lily continued, unperturbed, “my father took precautions and concealed… a certain amount… of gold, before making his way home to the King.”

“And this map leads to his forgotten horde?” Fletcher’s manner had changed and a pin drop could have been heard at the mention of gold. Cat noticed Fletcher’s eyes flicker to Hood, who was now watching the events with interest.

“Not forgotten,” Lily corrected, “remembered well enough, and bequeathed to me.”

“And so now you mean to collect your inheritance?”

“I do, and had agreed on a fair exchange with Captain Brindle which I will graciously extend to all of you, should you wish it.” Lily had been so close to gaining the support of the crew but had thrown it aside with her haughtiness. Cat sighed with annoyance.

“She graciously extends it, lads!” Fletcher yelled and the crew cheered and fell about laughing.

“Captain Brindle is, I’m afraid, no longer with us,” Hood spoke suddenly and the crew were silenced. Lily turned and he stepped toward her, suddenly Cat panicked that she couldn’t get between them if she needed to, then she admonished herself for even thinking such a suicidal thought.

“You have a new Captain,” Hood’s words were slow, purposeful, he spoke as if he carefully selected each and every sound before uttering it, “with whom you must negotiate… a fair exchange.” He licked his dry lips and stood, looming over Lily with a hand upon the pommel of his cutlass. Cat was reminded of that first time she had seen him, stirring the cooking pot below deck like a demon preparing a feast of souls. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you, and,” he waved a hand at Cat, “your little protector here, cast in chains and tossed in the bilge.”

‘Dammit,’ Cat thought.

She was ‘with’ Lily in Captain Hood’s eyes and she couldn’t think of a way out. She considered volunteering the map on Lily’s behalf, she knew where it was hidden, but then she realised that Hood would think she had been hiding the map until now and that she was only handing it over in fear.

“The map is encrypted,” Lily said, quickly, “and I am the only one that knows the key.”

Cat had seen the codebook, she was sure she could decipher the code, a task which would be impossible for many of the illiterate men aboard.

Bartholomew Hood stared hard at Lily for a long time.

“Very well,” he said finally, with a sharp nod. “Tonight lads, we celebrate, and tomorrow, we go and find ourselves a pirate’s gold!”

The crew cheered and Cat released a long sigh of relief, then chuckled as she heard Lily mutter ‘he was a privateer,’ under her breath.

Even in the most arduous of circumstances, Miss Lillian Exquemelin had to have the last word.

Chapter Thirty
A Mutual Confinement

They were locked in Lily’s cabin.

They had been imprisoned all afternoon, with nothing but the sound of the crew celebrating to amuse them or let them know what was happening above. Cat was straddling a backward-turned chair, leaning on the backrest lazily to avoid hurting her wounds. She had noticed Lily look at her sideways once or twice but she said nothing about her unladylike pose.

“It is absurd to keep us locked up like prisoners!” Lily said suddenly. She had taken to pacing, and Cat was losing her patience with Lily, with her imprisonment, and with the discomfort of her injuries. “Especially,” Lily continued as if she were debating at a council meeting, “when the crimes have all been committed by this new ‘Captain’.”

“Would you rather be up there?” Cat snapped, “Dancing with Hood? Drinking with the crew? You wouldn’t last a minute out there.” Cat shifted her position, she was starting to ache everywhere, “But I don’t see why they had to bundle me in here with you. I should be out there singing and drinking to our freedom with the rest of them!”

“I’m afraid I simply do not understand how you can possibly think of celebrating the death of four men! Not to mention those poor men put to sea,” she turned to the window, wringing her hands. “We are a Pirate Ship, Lady Catherine! This ship is a danger upon the seas! Our lives are risk!”

“My life was at risk this morning!” snapped Cat, “under your bloody Captain! Those bastards would have killed me! Or do you have a poor memory? Is it only uniformed men who are to be mourned?”

“I’m sorry, I would never—”

“It is only thanks to this mutiny that I am safe at all! I’m scarred, and I’m confined in this accursed box with a whining brat… but I’m safe nonetheless.”

“A whining brat! How dare you—”

“Well, if you cease to act as one, madam, then I would cease to have the grounds on which to place that name upon you.” Cat replied with a mocking flourish of her hand.

Lily looked at her, open-mouthed, “You, m’Lady, would you honestly side with pirates? Murderous pirates, over an honourable woman who has done nothing wrong?”

“Those ‘murderous pirates’ saved my life.”

Lily laughed angrily. “I risked my very safety to release you from that wooden grate! Or are you the one with the poor memory?”

Cat dismissed Lily with a shake of the head. “You wasted your effort; someone else would have got to me eventually.”

Lily stepped toward her, furious, “You yourself declared to the crew that I saved your life!”

Cat shrugged, “I needed to lie to save you. You ought to thank me.”

“Nonsense,” Lily’s cheeks were flaring red with rage as she spoke, “You stood aside the moment I was threatened by that sword-wielding brute!”

“Fletcher Greaves is not a brute!” Cat said, standing. “He is one of the finest gentlemen I know!” Cat paused and relented, “perhaps not the finest, he is slothful, overconfident and full of a swagger that can be as infuriating as it is endearing… but he is a half decent fellow and a man that has been a friend when others have fallen short.”

“So, you really are on their side,” Lily said, and the disappointment in her voice pierced Cat’s chest. Lily turned and sat on her bed in defeat, “you would have let him run me through, had the fancy taken him?”

“He would never!” Cat said, as desperate to prove Lily wrong as she was to defend her own loyalties, “Besides I’m just as interested in this voyage as he is. I have a right to know where in hell we’re headed!”

“You have a right to know?” Lily said, standing again and moving toward Cat, so fearsome was her sudden quiet rage that Cat took a step back in alarm. “You might well be ‘Lady Catherine Cadogan’, but you are a stowaway! You have committed fraud to gain passage on this vessel, you have been convicted of insubordination by a uniformed officer, who was hired by me, and you have caused a mutiny that has resulted in the death of a Captain and several of his men! How dare you?” Lily said, almost spitting her incredulity at Cat’s face, “How dare you claim to have any rights aboard this ship? You have no rights at all!”

Cat stood for a moment, opening and closing her mouth, “A fine one you are!” she said, finally, “Bribing a Pirate Captain to fetch Daddy’s Pirate gold!”

“He was a Privateer!” Lily growled, looking as if she were ready to strike.

“He stole for his own damned benefit!”

“You know nothing of my father!” Lily growled, shaking with rage, “He fought for the King!”

“And does the King know about this little treasure trove of his?” Cat smiled smugly, preparing for the retort.

But Lily was silent. She turned away, shaking her head and determinedly looking through the little window for a long while.

Cat returned to her chair and rested her chin on the back, feeling rather self-satisfied at having won the argument and silencing the haughty young Miss Lillian.

“I have been such a fool,” Lily said, barely above a whisper.

Cat was suddenly no longer certain exactly what it was she had won.

No longer part of the crew, Cat knew that if she didn’t find favour with Lily, then she would be truly alone.

Cat went to stand, to go to Lily and apologise to her, make her smile again, take the uncertainty away from her, but she paused. It wasn’t Lily she wanted. She shouldn’t want to become friends with a haughty noblewoman who thought nothing of the people that served her. Cat had said ‘farewell’ to that world a long time ago. Her loyalty lay with John, with Fletcher, and with Tommy. They were her family. She needed to leave this silly girl’s room and go back out on deck and be treated like an equal once more.

Cat thought back to the days when they would plan the contraband landings, when they would gather after dark in The Swan and sit around a table, her at the head, in the thick of things where her voice was listened to, responded to. She was never their superior but she was their leader. She needed to prove this was still true.

Cat needed that map.

But to get it, she would have to gain Lily’s trust.

She realised that she did have an advantage that no one else on board had; she was alone with Lily. But, being the supreme fool that she was, rather than make use of her advantage, she was creating a divide between her and this girl.

Cat took a deep breath, stood from her chair, and walked across the room to Lily, “Thank you,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Excuse me?” Lily said, turning to face her.

“Thank you… for… saving my life,” she dropped her hand.

“A moment ago, you said it was I who should be thanking you!”

Cat sighed in exasperation, wondering how in the world she was supposed to gain the trust of a woman she could barely stand to communicate with. “I… see the error in my judgement.”

“What error? Just a moment ago, you seemed certain enough.” Lily’s cheeks were flaring red once again and Cat was growing impatient with her unwillingness to accept the apology.

“Do you wish to have my thanks or nay?” she snapped. “Because I can just as well take them back and we can sit here in silence for the rest of forever!” Angrily, Cat returned to her chair and sat with her back to Lily, silently congratulating herself for having managed less than a minute of civility.

“I do not want the reluctant thanks of a sulking brat.”

“I’m a brat?!” Cat said, spinning around.

“Well, if you cease to act as one then I would cease to have the grounds on which to place that name upon you.”

Cat laughed. “Touché,” she said.

Lily smiled. “I think,” she said, “that perhaps our patience has been affected by the excitement of the day.”

“Not to mention being locked in a bloody cupboard.” Cat stretched her limbs as best she could, she was becoming increasingly frustrated at her captivity.

“Is there no way out of this dreaded prison?”

“There’s little advantage,” Cat said shaking her head. She pointed to the ceiling, the distant sound of music and laughter could be heard through the floorboards. “That lot,” she said, “will do naught but drink and gamble ‘til sunrise, perhaps we should just do the same?”

“Oh, no,” Lily replied, opening a drawer and taking out a book, “I don’t think so.”

Cat sighed as she watched Lily sit on the bed and begin to read.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Thirty-One
To the Aid of a Friend

Cat and Lily froze at the sound of the key unlocking their cabin door, followed by a quiet knock.

They glanced at one another, equally uncertain. Lily slowly put down her unread book and, more curious than scared, Cat eased out of her chair and grabbed Lily’s knife from the sideboard before moving to the door.

“Who goes there?” she said fiercely. She could guess what the men would be wanting after they’d had a few drinks.

“Tis only I,” came the familiar voice of Fletcher Greaves.

Cat quickly unbolted the door.

“What are you doing?” Lily cried in panic.

“It’s Fletch.”

“Isn’t that the man who threatened me?”

Cat merely shrugged and opened the door.

Fletcher smiled warmly and held up a jug. “I bought you some ale,” he said.

“Wonderful,” said Cat drily, “I’m sure Her Majesty will approve.”

He looked at her with confusion as he handed over the jug and Cat went to close the door but Fletcher stopped her, his hand against it.

“I was wondering,” he said quietly, “if I might have a word?”

Relieved that he had indeed visited for more than just a delivery of weak ale, Cat eagerly opened the door wide to let him in and dispense his news.

“Not here,” he added quickly.

She nodded and turned to pass the jug to Lily, who looked quite disgusted with the thing.

“I shall be back shortly,” Cat said to a startled Lily and placed the brass knife back on the side table before adding, “Bolt the door after me. Open it to no one else.”

“I hadn’t intended to!” Lily replied.

“And here,” said Cat, pulling the key from the far side of the door and tossing it to her, “we’re our own guards now.”

Lily opened her mouth to reply but Cat was too eager to talk to Fletcher, she closed the door firmly behind her before following him.

It was cold and quiet at this late hour on deck. Apart from the odd fellow here and there it seemed all the crew were in the galley below singing the last of their songs and drinking everything they could before it ran out.

Fletcher led her to the foredeck. They leant over the side, looking out into the darkness. He tapped the deck rail impatiently with his finger. Cat said nothing and simply waited for him to find his words. She hoped he would tell her she could be part of the crew and go back to her position with no questions asked but she knew that the only reason he would have brought her out of the cabin was to press her for information about Lily and the map.

“I know you have a soft spot for that woman—”

“I do not!” she said quickly countering any suggestion that she would choose Lily over her own people.

“Oh… I thought—”

“Whatever you thought is wrong, I can’t stand her I can barely face being in the same room with her, it's torture to be down there!” Cat was hoping he would take her hint.

“So, you don’t think you could get her to give you the map?”

She could have punched herself. “She doesn’t know I hate her,” she added unconvincingly.

“So, you are friends?”

Cat thought back to their relentless bickering. “Undoubtedly,” she said with false confidence.

“And this map of hers… ‘tis genuine?”

She hesitated, surprised to realise that she did trust Lily to be telling the truth. But that wouldn’t be enough for Fletcher and she knew it. “I’ve seen the map,” she said, although she didn’t think it was necessary to admit Lily hadn’t quite ‘shown’ it to her, “and she certainly believes there is a valuable treasure to be found… whether she herself has been hoodwinked, I couldn’t know.”

Fletcher pursed his lips and looked out over the dark ocean.

Cat sighed. She had given him nothing. At least nothing he couldn’t have deduced for himself. She’d always known he was wily but in the last few days and weeks, he had proven just how cunning and in control he could really be. He was her superior now; he had all the pieces on the chess board and it would be up to him to make any decision. Cat knew that if the roles were reversed she wouldn’t give Fletcher any leeway for the same amount of non-information and she knew she wouldn’t respect him if he gave way out of kindness or pity.

Even before he spoke Cat was certain she would be stuck in that cabin until she had something more solid to give him. Suddenly she wondered what would become of Lily once her bargaining chip had been given away… but she shook off the thoughts. If she was to be a member of the crew, then her loyalty had to be to them and to them only, not some silly girl.

“You’ve always been a fair leader,” he said finally, she could hear in his tone he was building her up to let her down and Cat’s last remaining glimmer of hope flittered away, “I won’t insult you by claiming my influence is greater than it is. This new Captain of ours…” Fletcher glanced around and dropped his voice, “there are men who know this man better than I, have known him longer, served with him before. Yet… he chose to put me forward for the position of Quartermaster—

“Quartermaster!”

“Aye, ‘twas voted on by the crew just an hour past.” He had a bashful smile and Cat could tell he was proud of his new position. The rank was a high one, especially on a ship where the crew had the power to vote; he would be their representative, higher even than the first mate. Kingsley would have been green with envy at such power. “However,” Fletcher added with a downward glance, “There is more than one man that feels he should have been put forward for Quartermaster, it was a stroke of luck-”

“Not just luck.” Cat felt she had to give him credit for the guile and wit that had gained him such favour with the new Captain and crew.

“It was a stroke of luck that Hood chose me above others and I will not last long if I ask for more favours. I can’t help you Cat,” he said with a sigh, and then shook his head and lowered his voice even further, Cat was forced to lean closer to listen, “because I need you to help me.”

He glanced around again and Cat realised there was a touch, the smallest hint, of fear in his eyes. With that one glance, she knew just how tenuous his hold on the position was. Cat also had the distinct feeling that any jostling of positions among the new officers on board would involve a blade in the gullet on a dark night, followed by a long swim. Fletcher needed something to maintain his position with the Captain and to prove his worth to the crew.

Cat tried to keep a poker face but she could have squealed in delight; he needed her! He needed her help and they were conspiring together. Just like before, back in the days when she would meet Fletcher in secret to arrange the landings, she was right back in her gang again, back to plotting to come up with a plan together that only she could execute. She let him wait. She listened to the straining lines, the gentle sound of the water lapping against the hull as the ship soared through the ocean, and  she took a deep breath of clean salty sea air before answering.

“I’ll need time,” she said, keeping her expression grim, business-like.

“How much?” The desperation in his voice was palpable. “The crew are merry now, but come morning when we have to talk of course changes…” Fletcher looked about the deck again, “They have the taste of blood. If the Captain and I agree to hand control of the helm over to that girl…” he shook his head, “I cannot see any one of us living to the end of the day.”

Cat closed her eyes. The danger she was in was now was just as strong as it had been on that beach all those weeks ago. After everything, she had been through. The beach, the escape, the disguise, the weeks of overwork, the threat of the lash, the mutiny… she was no closer to freedom. Her life, and the lives of those she loved, now depended on her ability to somehow acquire this damned treasure map from Miss Lillian.

“Give me ‘til morning,” she said, determined that she would be the one to get them all out of this.

He smiled. “I knew you’d prove yer salt.”

She grinned back. As he turned and walked off along the deck, he had a hint of his old swagger back.

Cat looked out over the black ocean, thinking. Her men were all depending on her now. She knew that all she had to do was steal the map and then decode, it right under Lily’s nose.

She just had no idea how.

Chapter Thirty-Two
Treasure Map

Lily placed the jug of ale on the sideboard and locked the door to her cabin. She was relieved that she now possessed the key but it did not assuage all her concerns. Far from it.

She was alone, locked in a small room on a ship in the middle of the ocean with only a crew of drunken, mutinous pirates aboard.

She thought back to the moment when she had watched those poor men being lowered in that little boat into the water. The thought of the death they were about to face had made her feel sick and now, as she thought of them lost somewhere out there on the dark water, thirsty, sun-beaten, starving, and afraid, she could hardly bear it and yet she was powerless to help them.

She may as well have been manacled in a cage.

She paced the room, determined that there was something, some thing that she could do, if not to save those men, then at least to punish the ones who had put them there.

Except there was nothing.

She sat on the bed and picked up her book again. If there was nothing she could do, she thought she may as well try to pass the time. But anger and frustration coursed through her, blinding her, she couldn’t think clearly let alone read.

She began to wonder where Lady Catherine had gone to. If she was safe with the man she had left with. She had certainly seemed to prefer his company over hers. Lily shook her head, she didn’t know this young woman, and she could never understand what she had been through.

But, even though she knew the girl had lived amongst coarse sailors for the past two months, Lily hadn’t quite been prepared for her rough manner, her casual curses, and her willingness to argue every point. The girl had even stood by and watched as she was interrogated and threatened, ‘would she have intervened if worse had occurred?’ Lily wondered. But then berated herself, it wasn’t her place to expect loyalty from someone she had just met, especially not if that loyalty only served to place them both in danger.

If Lily wanted to be saved, she was going to have to do it herself.

She still had her map and she was likely the only person aboard who knew the ship’s current location. She smiled to herself as an idea started to form.

She rifled through her sea-chest and pulled out the map, examining the detail under the light of her dying candle. She could direct the ship straight to the port of St Thomas. It was just a day’s journey from the island, it would be too late for the crew to change course before they sailed blindly into the harbour, she could leave the ship, perhaps secure a jolly boat or a cutter. Anything.

She laughed bitterly, suddenly realising that this had been Captain Yates’ plan from the very beginning. He had warned of almost this very outcome. She had been so stupid. So blinded.

She had told herself at the time that she was taking the only suitable option… but now she wondered if she had simply been impatient and greedy.

Suddenly there was a tap on the door. Her body froze.

“It’s me,” the familiar sound of Catherine’s whispered voice came from the corridor.

A wave of relief soaked through Lily but she was still uncertain, “Are you alone?” she called, quickly placing the map back into the sea-chest.

“Quite alone.”

Lily stopped, looked down at the code book and then opened it at the last page. It had a small list of directions and a smaller map. It was the route from the secluded beach all the way to the cavern of hidden gold. Without these directions, it was likely impossible to find the hidden treasure.

“Do you intend to let me in?” Cat asked impatiently, “or should I get back to the merrymaking?”

“Just a moment,” Lily replied quickly, “I’m not decent!”

She heard a soft muttering of obscenities from outside as she tried to quickly rip the page from the code book without leaving an obvious trace. Then she hid the book back under the blankets, closed the sea chest, folded the page of parchment, slid it into her bodice, and rushed to open the door without looking ruffled.

Cat stared at her, “You’re fully dressed.”

“I am now,” Lily replied, hoping she would be thought a fool before a conspirator. “So, what did you discover?” she asked as Cat walked back to her seat and Lily locked and bolted the door.

“Discover?”

“Did you not see the Captain? Did he tell you their plans? Is he a man likely to keep his word? Does he intend to hang us from the yardarm?”

Catherine hesitated. “Fletcher wants to help us but there is very little within his power.”

Lily looked at her, wondering if there was more to the relationship between Catherine and that man than she was revealing. “Could he not have told you that here?” she asked dubiously.

Catherine shrugged and picked up a set of cards lying on the sideboard, absentmindedly shuffling them. “How about a game?” she asked, holding up the cards.

Lily laughed. “Are you quite mad?”

“What?”

“You wish to play cards while we are being held prisoner by pirates?”

“What else can we do? Read a novel?”

Lily let out an exasperated sigh. “Plan?” she said, “Plot our escape? Think of a way to convince the Captain to go back and try to save those men he abandoned?”

“Curse those bastards to hell!”

“Lady Catherine!”

“Cat. My name is Cat,” she said, more furious than ever, “The moment I left my father’s house I was no longer ‘Lady Catherine Cadogan’ so you can stop expecting tea and polite conversation from me.” She was no longer looking at Lily, instead, she was determinedly laying out the cards for solitaire on a little wooden table. “You have no idea.” Cat shifted in her seat as if her wounds had begun to sting at the memory.

Feeling guilty, Lily sat in the chair opposite, attempting to demonstrate solidarity without having to think what to say.

“I will never forget that lash,” Cat said after a while, looking at the cards laid out and making her first move, “and there were men who faced twenty of those…. Twenty.” She shook her head in disbelief, “and then there were those who were worked and worked and worked until they fell from the yard and—” her voice cracked, she bit her lip and took a deep breath moving a few cards around the table. Suddenly she looked up at Lily, “did you hear his screams?”

Lily looked away. She nodded.

“So,” Cat said as if she had settled a business matter, “Curse those bastards to hell.”

Chapter Thirty-Three
A False Promise

Suddenly Cat felt Lily’s hand against her own.

Her touch was warm, soft, and gentle against her skin. The intensity of the contact shocked her and Cat pulled away quickly as if she had been burnt.

But Lily’s touch seemed to linger on like a ghost, and Cat could feel herself getting angry again. Angry that she had pulled away, angry that she didn’t want to pull away, angry at her own confusion.

“I can’t begin to imagine what you have been through,” Lily said, cutting through Cat’s thoughts, “your father was terrible to you… my father, well… he saved me.”

“From what?” Cat tried to keep the incredulity from her voice, ‘what could little Miss Lillian ever have needed saving from? A dull party?’ she thought, bitterly.

But Lily looked away, letting out a deep sigh as she shifted in her chair.

“My mother,” she said after a while. Cat looked up at her, curious as to what she meant, and Lily continued, “My mother owned a… a house of ill repute.”

“A whore house!” Cat exclaimed before she could stop herself, “were you a…?”

“No! No, I… my mother kept me away from all of that. I was just a child, barely twelve years old, when she died.”

Cat stared at Lily as if trying to find some vestige of this upbringing tainting the young woman’s countenance. She hadn’t imagined the little Miss Lillian living anywhere except the lap of luxury. The very best of everything and showered with gifts, and then, Cat realised bitterly, that she had assumed Lily had shared the same privileged upbringing she’d had. “What was it like?” she asked.

Lily sat back in her chair for a moment, thinking, “It was a… strange place for a child to be,” she explained, “My mother’s moods were… varied, she would be jubilant some days, in a desperate melancholy the next and the house would be alive with parties and visitors but then a shadow would fall over it. New girls would arrive, others would leave without warning… and then one day my mother was just gone…”

“Gone? Left you mean?”

Lily looked up at Cat, almost pityingly, “She was dead, Cat.”

“Oh. I…yes, you said. I’m sorry.”

Lily shrugged. “It was a long time ago… and I realise now that it was her death that set me free.”

“How so?” Cat was starting to find Lily’s life fascinating, she had never known anyone but the villagers she grew up with and the pretentious, high-class nobles she was forced to endure at high society balls, she had certainly never met anyone that was the daughter of a Pirate and a doxy. Perhaps Lily wasn’t so noble after all.

“My father would be at sea most of the year then he would live with us while his ship was in port. When he came home after my mother’s death… I thought he would simply go back to sea and never return… but he didn’t. Instead, he took me away and never left me again.”

“Where did he take you?”

“A house he owned in Bristol. He sent me to a convent school, it was a hard place but it provided me with an education, and he took me to sea and taught me how to navigate using the stars—”

“You mean you actually know how to do that?”

“Oh, yes, it’s quite easy once you understand the basic principles, I could teach you if you like?”

Cat couldn’t think of anything worse than staying awake all night to measure stars, but she wondered if she had an opportunity to get Lily to tell her everything. “So, is that when he gave you the map?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“No.” Lily looked away and was quiet for a moment, “he gave the map to my older sister. She hadn’t left my mother’s house. Father tried to persuade her to leave the profession, but he wouldn’t force her.”

“So how do you know your sister doesn’t already have the treasure?”

“The map really is useless without the codebook and she died as well so…” Lily’s voice cracked a little and she looked down at her hands.

Cat felt immediately guilty, she shouldn’t have assumed. There was so much about this girl that she shouldn’t have assumed. Everything she’d thought was peeling away and the proud and haughty woman she had imagined was replaced by a girl who was kind and brave. “So, you’re… all alone?

Cat was surprised to hear Lily laugh, “Yes, yes I suppose I am. Unless...”

“Unless what?” Cat said hopefully.

“Well, now that you and I have been confined together, perhaps it might be of benefit if we should choose to work together?”

Cat was silent. She wondered what Lily might be asking of her.

Lily held out her hand, “A pact, if you will, so that, no matter what occurs, we will stay loyal to each other?”

Cat looked down at Lily’s hand, so delicate and small compared to the rough handshake of one of the crew. She wanted to take Lily’s hand in her own, she wanted to reassure her that she would stand by her side and watch out for her, for this girl that had no one else.

But she faltered.

She couldn’t betray her friends. Cat could never betray John or Fletcher, or even Tommy for all he had hated her, yet if she aligned herself to Lily completely, she would be doing just that.

Cat took Lily’s hand, clasping it firmly but knowing that she was lying, right to her face. “No matter what,” she said, holding Lily’s gaze and feeling a twisting sense of betrayal already creeping upon her.

Lily smiled broadly. It was the first time Cat had seen her smile, really smile, it altered her countenance completely. Her eyes shone and a brightness filled her features so much so that Cat couldn’t help but smile back.

Suddenly Lily withdrew from the handshake, Cat missed the warm touch against her hand and an ache of longing, deep in the pit of her chest, began to stir.

“Well,” Lily said, breezily, “I don’t know about you, but I simply have to get some sleep.”

“Oh,” Cat said, unprepared for such an abrupt end to their evening. She looked about the room for a place to rest her head and decided on an empty spot of floor near the door.

“You can’t lay there!” Lily said, as Cat eased herself down on the wooden boards.

“Sorry!” she said, standing awkwardly. She was unsure where to go and realised she could just go back to her usual spot, she thought perhaps the crew would treat her no differently despite now knowing her to be a woman.

“If either of us is to take the floor it is to be me,” Lily said.

Cat was dumbstruck for a moment “No, you can’t—”

“Then it is settled, we shall both have the bed.” Cat stared at Lily, open mouthed and Lily must have noticed her astonishment because she added: “have you never shared a bed before?”

“Not unless you call sleeping on the same floor as twenty sailors ‘sharing a bed’?”

“I do not.” Lily laughed and seemed so much more relaxed after their talk. “You’ll have to get out of those clothes, though.”

Cat looked down at her filthy slops and tattered shirt, about to protest, but realised she was right.

“And you ought to wash,” Lily said, handing her a nightshirt. “You stink something rotten.”

Cat couldn’t argue and she felt somewhat perturbed by Lily’s sudden exuberance. Meanwhile, Lily didn’t seem to be the slightest bit uncomfortable and turned her back to begin to undress.

Nervously, Cat followed suit. She did her best to clean herself up with the cloth and cold water in the wash basin. It had been a long while since she’d had access to clean water and it was nearly black once she had finished.

She took her time, uncomfortable at the thought of sleeping so close to another person in such a confined space. She’d always been grateful to Michael for accepting that theirs was a marriage of convenience and a matrimonial bed was out of the question. She’d had her own rooms at The Swan from the first night she’d spent there and had never expected she would have to share a bed with anyone, let alone this woman.

Cat was determined to stay awake. She intended to wait until Lily fell asleep so she could search the trunk and retrieve the map and codebook. She knew that the longer she stayed with this girl in this room, the harder it would be to have to eventually betray her.

But as soon as Cat slid into the soft bed between the warm blankets she was overwhelmed with weariness and fell into a deep, heavy sleep.

Chapter Thirty-Four
Articles of Agreement

Cat dozed.

She couldn’t remember why her back hurt so much. She knew she had to get up for something. ‘Church?’ she thought, ‘a landing?’

Suddenly she was wide awake. Everything was flooding back into her mind and she felt sick with the dizziness of it.

She wasn’t in Cadogan Bay anymore. The last time she had been tucked up comfortably in a bed was at home in The Swan, the night before it all started.

The grief hit her like a wall.

She breathed deeply, closing her eyes, and trying to push everything away, and concentrate on today. The past didn’t matter if she didn’t have a future.

It was still dark outside but the first signs of dawn were on their way and there was a weak light easing in through the open windows. Cat cursed herself for falling asleep so easily. She had a job to do and no doubt Fletcher would have been waiting up for her all night while she cuddled up under warm blankets.

With as little movement as possible Cat eased herself, legs first, out of bed. Her muscles were stiff and her back was raw, she didn’t want those wretched scars to reopen. Sitting on the edge of the little bed, she turned to check on Lily, praying she wasn’t wide awake.

She needn’t have worried.

Like an ancient goddess in an Italian painting, Lily slept on her side with one hand drawn up near her face, a few loose strands of hair falling across her face, her reddish lips parted slightly as she breathed slowly, calmly. Cat wanted to reach out and brush the strands of hair from her cheeks but restrained herself; she couldn’t risk waking her. She looked away.

Now wasn’t the time to get distracted; she had to focus on her goal, stay calm, stay quiet, get what she needed, and get out.

Trying desperately not to wake the sleeping figure, Cat crept to the box at the bottom of the bed that she had investigated just two nights before, the world seemed to have turned a thousand times since then, but to her relief, the little wooden chest was still unlocked.

She removed the red leather book and then carefully unfolded the map, wishing she had thought to have stolen them when she first found them, then slipped straight out, and back to the others; the world would have been a different place for her if she’d only done that. She had taken a good look before, but now in the dawn light, Cat traced her finger around the edge of the island marked on the old piece of parchment, along its bays and its outcrops and back around to the thick black ‘X’ marking the area the treasure must be located.

That ‘X’ was going to change her life. She smiled at the thought, then folded the map up once again and slipped it inside the red leather book. Quickly and quietly, she changed back into her old breeches and shirt then went to unlock the door.

She took one last glance at Lily, sleeping so peacefully and so unaware of the betrayal that was happening to her at that very moment. Cat hesitated. She had seen so much death, and so much fighting she really didn’t want to cause any more hurt least of all to a girl who had lost so much already.

But she remembered Fletcher’s words and knew that if she didn’t act to prevent it, then there would be a lot more death and fighting to come.

Cat nodded to herself, confirming her own thoughts, and then unlocked the door and slipped out of the cabin.

Fletcher was indeed pacing up and down the main deck, his collar pulled up and his hat pulled down low as a defence against the light rain just passing overhead.

“Storm’s on its way,” he said, with a nervous tone to his voice. Cat noticed that he was glancing up and down the deck checking none of the crewmen were watching them.

She leant in closer. “I have it,” she whispered.

She didn’t have to elaborate, his countenance altered immediately, a smile bit at his lips and he nodded curtly. He turned and strode off, she followed quickly behind and was surprised to realise he was taking her not to John and Tommy but straight to Captain Hood.

A twinge of nerves somersaulted in her belly. She didn’t know if she should protest or trust to Fletcher’s judgement. Suddenly she felt as if everything was wrong and upside down and that she shouldn’t be handing over Lily’s map to the dark and dangerous Bartholomew Hood.

But it was too late.

As soon as they were in the Captain’s office, Hood threw down the compass he was drawing with on the navigation chart and stood up to his full height, his bare head brushing the beams of the ceiling, he tucked his thumbs into his belt and narrowed his eyes at Cat but said nothing.

Cat hadn’t been frightened of anyone since her father but here stood a man so powerful in both confidence and physique that she almost lost her voice and could sense Fletcher falter beside her.

“I believe you wanted these, S-Sir,” she said, casually as she could muster whilst holding the book and map out to him. It took all the strength she had to keep the book from shaking in her hand.

Hood raised his eyebrows and took them from her, leafing through the pages with disdain until he eventually chuckled.

“Aye, Lass,” he said with a smile, although she could hardly tell beneath his thick black beard, “That’s right.” He tapped Fletcher on the hat with the folded map. “This lad said from right off that you’d come through. Never doubted ye.” Fletcher turned and she caught a bashful smile, she couldn’t help but return it as relief washed over her.

Cat was delighted. Fletcher hadn’t doubted her; even as she had been cast out he had never truly brushed her aside. She thought then that her confinement with Lily may even have been a ruse or a test of her commitment, ability, and spirit, but it didn’t matter! She’d come through for them.

“So, am I to be a member of the crew?” she asked hurriedly.

The Captain looked down at her for a moment, then nodded. “If ye can hold yerself as well as yer ‘ave been, I see no reason not.”

She laughed in relief, as Fletcher patted her hard on the shoulder. She felt as though the very walls were melting away and the ceiling above her was lifting into the sky; she could breathe again.

“Thank you—”

“But ye’ll sign the ‘Articles’ as like every other lad aboard.” The Captain turned and began rifling through some of the papers on the desk.

Cat was confused and looked to Fletcher for an explanation, he opened his mouth as if to say something—

“Here,” said the Captain, turning and holding a leaf of paper out for Cat. Written at the top in poor hand and blotted ink was an unfamiliar word.

“The Kraken?” Cat asked.

“Aye,” Hood said, with an unsettling grin, “A new ship needs a new name. You sail under the banner of The Kraken now.”

Also on the document, under the title ‘Articles of Agreement’, were several poorly written ‘rules’, and at the bottom were marked various crosses and a few signatures which she guessed belonged to the crew as only a few would be able to sign their name.

Cat glanced quickly through the articles, dreading what she might find there, knowing the notoriety under which pirates operated. She just hoped that the standard of discipline wouldn’t be any more brutal than their last rulers.

But to her surprise, these rules were more reasonable by far; every crewman had a vote, equal division of pay, no brutal working hours, no lashings, no one was to strike another aboard ship, lights out at eight of an evening, no gambling, and no music on the Sabbath. Cat had no trouble agreeing and quickly went to add her own name but she hesitated for a moment unsure what name to write under. She realised it would be utterly foolish to admit to being ‘Catherine Meadows’ but Hood would know that ‘Jack Strong’ was a lie.

She added a cross, deciding that the pretence of illiteracy was the safest course of action.

The Captain took back the articles of agreement with a satisfied nod and went back to his chart without another word.

She took his silence to be a dismissal and left the Captain’s office, walking out on deck a full member of the crew once again. Not just the crew of The Kraken but a member of her own crew again. She couldn’t wait to find Tommy and John so they could all start conspiring together, making plans, depending on one another, and working together as equals. Suddenly it was as if the brightening dawn sky was the heavens and the ship gently rocking on the choppy water was the paradise to which she had successfully gained entry.

She looked around seeing where she could be useful, eager to use her body again after so many hours confined, first as a prisoner in the hold overnight, and then in the cabin with Lily.

Lily.

She would still be in the cabin, asleep, believing herself to be safe, to have an ally, to have one last hold over the Captain, able to prevent whatever fate he and the crew had in mind for her.

But Lily wasn’t safe. Cat hadn’t even locked the door to the cabin on her way out.

She stood uneasily on deck, a few smatterings of rain dampening her clothes. She wanted to go back to her but she wasn’t even sure what she would say.

“Yer a better sight without yer shirt!”

Cat spun around to see a thin grinning face laughing at her from the rigging.

“Come here and say that, you bilge-rat, Parsons!” she yelled back, she was filled with rage, she wanted to hit something, kill something, smash something and if that was going to be that skainsmate, Parsons, then all the better.

He laughed again. “Ye best mind yer manners, Missy: a fella might box yer ears.”

“I’d like to see you try, whoreson.”

“Whoreson? Is it?”

“Aye, better stay in yer nest of ropes, yer vermin.”

He dropped down on the deck in front of her. “I’ve a damned good mind to give ye a thrashing ‘little Jack!’” He edged forward, he was a clear foot taller than her but he was a scrawny fellow and she felt ready to take him on, “I’d not take yer cheek from a lad and I’ll be damned if I take it from a mongrel bitch.”

“Parsons, let it be, get back to duty,” Fletcher said, suddenly behind her, but she ignored his intervention.

“Oh? And just what do you intend to do about it, whoreson?” she said, so filled with rage she was certain she could crush him with her thumb

“Damn you, bitch,” he said, “if it weren’t for the articles I’d kill yer here and if it weren’t for the fact that yer a woman I’d challenge yer to a duel.”

“Don’t fear for my safety, Pignut, ‘tis you that should be fearful!”

“Oh aye, is that so, yer little hedge-born-squit? And just what do you intend?”

“I intend to challenge you!”

“Cat!” Fletcher said, pulling on her arm, “she means naught by it,” he continued, “she knows not what a challenge entails.”

Cat laughed. “‘Tis none of your concern, Fletch!” She pulled her arm from his grip, knowing she could ever be equal to any man while she was under the protection of one of them, “I mean it.” She turned back to Parsons and looked him full in the face. “Do you accept the challenge?”

“Aye,” he said, laughing. Then he spat at her feet.

Chapter Thirty-Five
A Loyal Second

Lily awoke.

The ship was rocking heavily and she was almost thrown from her bed. But the weather outside her window was calm, the morning sun streaming in the window. The ship must have cast anchor; she remembered the dizzying feeling from Bristol. But they couldn’t be at port. Nor could they be at the island. She sat up in bed and looked around to ask Cat.

But she was alone.

It didn’t feel right. She couldn’t understand why Cat would leave without waking her, ‘what could have happened?’ she wondered, cursing herself for not having woken sooner.

Hurriedly she dressed, throwing on her clothes from the day before and not worrying over her hair; she had little time for frivolities and doubted a ship of pirates deserved her usual attention to detail.

Grabbing her knife, she went to unlock the cabin and was struck with horror when she realised the cabin door was unlocked. Cat could have locked it and slipped the key back underneath but instead she had left Lily unprotected. It didn’t seem right. These careless actions didn’t seem to match the character of the girl Lily had spent the evening with.

A new wave of dread filled her. She knew she had to make her way to the deck but wasn’t certain she would be ready for whatever she about to find.

She opened the door; the day was bright, with a good wind, but the ship was rocking heavily against the waves rather than gliding through the water.

Crewmen were gathered together mid-deck and there was shouting, berating, and a hubbub of noise. Cat’s voice was distinct among the rabble. She was at the centre of whatever was going on.

Lily rushed forward, readying herself for the crewmen to turn on her at any moment but they barely paid her any heed, and she had to squeeze through the melee to find out what was happening.

As she reached the centre of the group she was just able to hear the last of the Captain’s words.

“So, have ye nominated a ‘second’ then, Man?” he growled.

Lily could tell he was quite infuriated but she was at a loss as to what was the cause. She could barely see what was happening for all the shoulders, backs, and hats that were blocking her view.

“Aye,” said another man, there was some jostling as a tall, thick-set man with leathery skin stepped forward with a low gruff voice, “I’ll stand by ‘im, I’ll be his ‘second’.”

“And you, Jack, do ye have a ‘second’?” It took Lily a moment to realise the Captain was talking to Cat.

There was but a flash of fear in her mind, she needed to know why Cat would need a ‘second’, what was going on? Desperately she forced herself to the front, sliding between people and under arms, to find out what could possibly be happening.

“Is there no one to step forward for Jack?” the Captain asked, turning and looking at the crew, his arms wide and expression of disbelief upon his face,

“Me!” Lily called out, and to her relief, the crowd parted a little to let her through the final few feet to the front, “I’m her second.”

Some of the crewmen laughed. Even the Captain, who had seemed so exasperated just a moment ago, let out a great roar.

Cat grabbed her arm and looked into her eyes, pleading. “What are you doing?” she said desperately. But Lily wanted her to know, needed to let her know she was her friend.

“It’s all right,” she promised.

“Aye, she can’t withdraw now,” the Captain said, recovered from his bout of mirth.

“But she is not the ‘second’ I chose,” Cat pleaded, and Lily was grateful that Cat was so willing to protect her from whatever plight had befallen her but she was determined to remain loyal to her, if only for the simple fact that Cat was all she had.

“Miss Lillian has volunteered as yer second,” Captain Hood replied firmly, “that is the agreement, no one can step in her place and if she forfeits then the both of ye forfeit the duel.” He looked down at Cat, carefully, “do you forfeit?”

Cat glanced at Lily but her countenance was inscrutable.

Several voices chipped in at once, “forfeit!” they called, several times over until a chant was started.

“Forfeit! Forfeit! Forfeit!” They men all called.

Lily noticed the man ‘Fletcher’ talking to Hood as if attempting to persuade but he was brushed away. Another man, a tall, bearded man with a kindly face, was tugging on Cat’s arm, “Forfeit and end this rough matter,” he was saying, but Cat shook him off.

“I do not forfeit,” she said, her face determined, her jaw locked and now more than ever she was fierce.

Cat was more passionate than any woman Lily had laid eyes upon and a thousand times more fervent than any man aboard ship. Lily was proud of her then, and she was proud to be her second. Whatever trouble Cat was in, they would face it together.

“Well then,” said the Captain slowly nodding, “since all is decided, the parties in question will each be rowed out by Jolly boat out to that there sandbar.”

Lily was confused and looked out in the direction the Captain was pointing. There she saw dozens of islands, a whole archipelago of miniature landmasses, some large enough for trees but many lay bare and she realised it was to one of these they were to be sent.

She scarcely heard the rest of the Captain’s explanation.

“Each party will have a pistol and shot, do as you will on the island but we expect only one party to return.”

Lily baulked. ‘It was to be death or murder! What cruel minds had thought this punishment up?’ She looked to Cat to see how she was taking the news but she was as stoical as ever and did not look in Lily’s direction. Lily wanted to shout at the Captain, to scream at him and tell him what a cruel heart he had for creating such a punishment.

But she feared if she did it might be seen as the forfeit Cat was so unwilling to take and she dreaded what worse fate she may inadvertently land them in.

“Miss Lillian?”

Lily looked around to see Fletcher holding open a small case for her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to step forward, in fact, she wanted to spit at his feet, not just for his behaviour toward her but also to Cat. He had told her he wanted to help; this didn’t seem as though it was his best effort.

For Cat’s sake, she bit her tongue and stepped forward. The case held a fine brace of pistols they were polished flintlocks with intricate engravings on the steel.

“Choose one, then dearie, unless ye intend to duel with parasols?” said the Captain, small bursts of laughter began to erupt but he silenced them quickly and Lily did her best to ignore the mockery.

The pistols were completely identical, Lily knew the decision was arbitrary yet which ever one she left behind could end up being the weapon that killed her. The thought was horrifying.

She picked the one closest to her, it was a good weight and the die cast metal was so black and so polished she could almost see her face in it. It would have been a beautiful thing if its purpose weren’t so deadly.

She hoped that Cat was a good shot. She hoped that at some point in her life Cat had taken the time to become accustomed to weaponry, that somehow, they would survive this, and that somehow, they would use this very weapon to kill those two men. ‘Those two pirates,’ Lily corrected herself, for she couldn’t abide the idea of murder yet the execution of a pirate was almost acceptable.

“I’ll show you how to load it, Miss.” It was that damned Fletcher again, eagerly holding his hand out. He had put the case aside and was now holding pouches of shot and powder in his hand, offering his services to the ignorant damsel in distress, as if he thought she had spent her entire life hiding in that wretched cabin. She wanted to scream at him and tell him that ‘no, it is only since I met you that I have felt the very real need to keep out of sight’, but all she could manage to say was: “I am aware of the fundamentals, Sir,” then held out her hand for the shot and powder, and promptly began to load the pistol herself.

He seemed put out and moved away from her. She was satisfied with that reaction and turned to Cat, somehow hoping for approval of her treatment of him. However, Cat didn’t look at her, instead, she was absorbed in watching the Captain who was himself looking over the edge of the ship, suddenly he turned and called out, “Bring her up!”

Immediately, two crewmen sprung into action on the ropes and pulleys which squeaked and strained as they heaved the large wooden rowing boat up to a height parallel with the deck.

Lily was reminded of the crewmen put to sea the day before. She wondered where they were. How they were faring, whether they were still alive.

“Ladies first!” the Captain announced, Lily’s stomach twisted with anxiety.

Adamantly refusing assistance, she clambered into the jolly boat, followed by Cat who looked to John Strong before she took her seat but he said nothing, merely nodded.

Two more men clambered aboard to act as oarsmen to bring the boat back once it had landed its first passengers. They took their positions and the little boat rocked and shook as suddenly they were being lowered down, out of the ship, and into the sea.

Chapter Thirty-Six
Sandbar

Lily watched from the edge of the sand as the jolly boat returned to the ship. It wouldn’t take them long to collect their opponents and return. Lily wondered if they were as nervous as she. “Do you suppose they really mean to kill us?” she asked.

“Of course, they do,” Cat said sharply, “and now they will likely succeed,” she added irritably, brushing strands of dark hair from her face and pacing awkwardly, unable to stand still.

“Is there really no other way?”

“You didn’t have to volunteer!”

Lily was taken aback by Cat’s sharp tone, “I know,” she replied defensively, “I just…” she wasn’t sure what to add and looked away. She knew she was missing something but she didn’t know how to broach it while Cat was so quick-tempered. She closed her eyes and listened to the little waves lapping at the beach. If felt so odd to be on land again. Her legs were quite unused to it and she had almost forgotten what it was like to be without the constant shouting of commands from somewhere onboard. Instead, she could hear the distant sound of birds and, without the ship’s stench of sweaty sailors, the smell of the ocean was clean and clear. But it was all was tainted with the knowledge of what they were about to face.

“What would happen if you did forfeit?”

“You are not dragging me into an accursed forfeit!” Cat said, her voice raised. She was as furious at Lily as she had been at those crewmen. It was one thing to witness her ferocity but it was quite another to be on the receiving end of it and Lily wasn’t certain she wanted to push her further. “You are going to damned well go through with this!”

“Of course! I will! I would not have stepped forward unless I intended to see this out to the end,” Lily stammered, feeling both confused and irritated, “but… how did this start? Was it that Fletcher man of yours? Did he cause this?”

“What? No!”

“So, what happened?”

“A man insulted me.”

Perplexed, Lily waited for the rest of the story but nothing was forthcoming. “And…?” she asked hopefully.

“And…” Cat said after a moment, “I challenged him.”

“You challenged him?” Lily repeated, confused. “You challenged him!” she grew angrier as she began to comprehend, “What on earth for? What on God’s green earth could he have possibly done that would make you willing to be shot at?”

“You weren’t there. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No,” Lily replied, having quickly lost all sympathy, “I was not there. I was left alone, asleep, and completely unaware! In an unlocked cabin that any man aboard ship could have entered had he wished!” Lily was angry with Cat but she was even angrier at herself for having ever been concerned about the selfish whelp.

“I’m not your little pup. You can’t keep me hidden under your skirts like a lapdog to scare off unwanted advances.”

“No. But I was under the, obviously false, illusion that we were at least friends.”

“Ha! Shall we curl one another’s hair and take tea at the baths?”

“It would certainly be an improvement on getting shot at.”

“A man insulted me! I had no choice.” Cat’s voice no longer held its usual swagger and she turned away. Lily wondered if she might finally be realising her foolhardiness.

“My word, Catherine!” Lily struggled to contain her fury, “there is not a day goes by that I am not insulted by someone! Do you see me pulling pistols on every other man aboard ship?”

“Well, if only we could all be blessed with your sainthood, what a fine world it would be!”

Lily threw up her hands in despair at Cat’s thick-headedness. The breeze was growing and it cooled Lily’s skin. She wondered how much longer they would have to wait, how much longer this well of dread would grow in her stomach.

“This is madness,” she said finally, “surely whatever the forfeit, it would be better than this! No one would think twice if you were to—”

“Why? Because I’m a woman?” Cat snapped, turning back to Lily with eyes of fire, “Because I am weak and small and frail and dainty and pretty and no one expects any less of me? Is that why?” she was ferocious, magnificent, and infuriating.

“Because it’s bloody dangerous!” Lily shook with rage. She was outraged that Cat would somehow try to prove that she was equal to a man by killing one.

“You volunteered!”

“Yes. I did! And a damned fine thanks I am getting for it now.”

“I would have been better without you. Now I’m stuck with a governess instead of a ‘second’.”

Cat’s casual dismissal of her only served to rouse her temper further. “What was I supposed to do? Watch?”

“Yes!”

Lily laughed bitterly, defusing her fury into a bewildered apathy. “You know, I’ve half a mind to shoot you myself.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Cat seemed to almost enjoy the insults she was launching at Lily, “I dare say you’d miss if you held the pistol to my head.”

“Don’t make me prove my skill.”

“This isn’t some afternoon game of target practice! These men mean to kill us! And all I have is a lady’s maid!” Cat turned from her as if to walk off but there was nowhere to go on their little stretch of sand.

“Curse you, Catherine! That’s all this is about, isn’t it? You’re ashamed to be a woman! Well, I am not ashamed. I am damned well proud of who I am. And it’s not as if I saw any great strapping man leaping to your side!”

“You barely gave them a chance!” There was anger, defensiveness, and a touch of hurt in Cat’s voice.

“They had plenty of chance,” Lily said, determined not to blandish Cat’s illusions, “there was nothing preventing it except their cowardice… or disloyalty.”

“Don’t you dare question their loyalty!” Cat roared. Lily stepped back, surprised at her savagery. “Those men have risked their lives for me, and I for them! There are men on that ship who would die before seeing me hurt.” Cat was edging toward her as if she was ready to start another duel, “They have stood by me through a hell you could not possibly imagine. So, don’t you dare think of questioning…” but Cat stopped short. Her attention was taken by something behind Lily.

“What?”

“I…” Cat’s voice trailed off as she stared, frowning. “Surely not…” she whispered, “surely they wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t what?” Lily demanded, turning to look, “What wouldn’t they do?” She could make out the ship a little further away than she would have expected but she couldn’t see what Cat was concerned about. The vessel was a novelty to see from afar. Its great sails catching the wind as it drove through the water… away from them.

“Oh, my word,” Lily whispered, “But… they wouldn’t—” She wondered if perhaps it was an error if they hadn’t noticed the wind picking up and they were now trying to pull at the sails or find a better place to put the little jolly boat out again.

But Lily could see the ship clearly. Its sails full with a good wind, no crew in the rigging, no sign they were trying to put down the anchor, no sign of error, no sign of stopping. This was no mistake.

Cat and Lily had been marooned.

PART IV: MAROONED

Chapter Thirty-Seven
Castaways

Everything she owned: gone.

All her belongings, her silks, furs, dresses, and slips were all gone. Her money, pictures, cards, watches, and Mother’s cheap, but oh so precious jewellery: gone. Her father’s chest, the spyglass, sextant, map, and the rest of the encryption book: gone.

Lily thanked her mistrustful mind she had thought to take the last page of directions with her, folded up and placed inside her bodice. At least she’d made the pirates’ task more difficult, they could get to the island but they may never uncover the treasure. Yet, as she looked around the sandbar, with water lapping at the edges and the dark clouds gathering on the horizon, she realised it was a small comfort.

Lily laughed.

Cat stared at her. “You think this funny?” she said, wide-eyed.

“It’s dreadful,” Lily replied, but she was struggling to hold back her laughter, and Cat rounded on her.

“You find it funny that I am betrayed? You think I am a clown for your amusement? A fool?”

“We’re both fools! Look at us!” Lily waved the pistol around, “Look at our little kingdom, its twenty square-foot of Empire!” She laughed again, unable to contain herself.

“Those guttersnipes have left us to die, we’re condemned out here!”

“We’re ridiculous!”

Cat snatched the pistol from Lily’s hand.

“Cat, no! I didn’t—”

But Cat turned away from her and fired a shot at the now distant ship.

Lily laughed again, relief mixed with absurdity washing through her uncontrolled. “Oh, now that really showed them!”

“Would you have preferred me to use it on you?” Cat stammered before slumping to her knees on the beach. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, her frame hunched over, and her arms were limp at her side. She looked empty: no sarcasm, no wit, no anger, and no hope: nothing.

The pistol fell from her grasp into the wet sand and Lily was shocked to realise Cat was sobbing.

“This is all my fault,” Cat managed.

“I can’t argue with that,” Lily said, sadly. Cleansed of laughter, she felt nothing but the dread of their predicament. The wind was growing stronger and she was certain that the small bank of sand had grown smaller since they had been there. As her eyes scanned the horizon she could see that the vessel was only a speck on the horizon in the shadow of a great cloud, dark and ominous.

“No…” Cat was struggling to say the words, “I mean, they, my shipmates they abandoned us because they don’t need us anymore…” she took a deep breath… “I gave them your map… and the book to decipher it.”

Lily sighed and nodded. “I see,” she said after a while, annoyed at herself for being naive enough to trust Cat so soon. She was foolish to believe Cat had wanted anything other than gold and that the loyalty to her crew mates could be transferred to Lily so quickly. She couldn’t pretend she was surprised.

“Are you not angry?” Cat asked

Lily shrugged and then smiled; thinking of the final instructions to the treasure tucked inside her bodice.

“But don’t you understand what I’m telling you? They have the ship, they have the map, and before long they will have the treasure! As for us… we have been stranded! No food and no fresh water we may not even have any land beneath our feet before nightfall! We are dead, Lily, we are good as dead and you… you shrug?”

“Honestly,” Lily replied, “I am just relieved to be out of that damnable hell-on-water. Every moment I was there, I felt some terrible shadow hanging over us all, and now… it’s all over!” She laughed again, relief washing over her and mixing with a bitter irony; she realised that after all, she had been through she was going to die out here.

“But… your gold! Your treasure! Why aren’t you angry?” Cat stood, bearing down on her, with the dark cloud looming behind her she seemed almost a goddess of rage.

Lily knew she should be angry. She knew she should be furious that so much hope had been cast aside by Cat’s ill temper and petulance. But she knew the true villain was her own pride.

It was her fault. She had refused to forgive Hazel or to seek forgiveness from her. She had always refused to become a wife or a governess because she hadn’t wanted to supplicate herself at someone else’s altar especially someone she didn’t love. She had wanted to be obedient to only herself. It was because of this selfish and childish desire to be her own woman that those sailors had been condemned to such a hellish voyage; they’d been given no choice but to mutiny.

It wasn’t Cat’s fault, or the pirate's fault, the fault didn’t even lay at the feet of the officers whose cruelty was nothing more than the direct result of such short supplies and a lack of hands. This was all her doing. Now she had been condemned and Catherine was condemned with her.

“I’m tired,” Lily said, finally, “Tired of fighting over this damnable gold, tired of being chased for gold, tired of worrying about gold, and I’m tired of being angry about gold.” She slumped down on the wet sand, the small waves lapping at her boots. “You know I didn’t want to die like my mother surrounded only by those who wanted to take from her. Or like my father dying in Bristol, on land, forever filled with regret at the things he hadn’t done, and I certainly didn’t want to die on that accursed ship, with no one to give tuppence about my fate or funeral. But out here?” She looked up at the sky, the wind was sweeping around her, cooling her skin as she burned under the hot sun. Above her was a piercing blue expanse, the only cloud was the distant storm bringing fresh, cleansing rain, and she breathed it all in. No city, no ship of sweaty sailors could ever smell as pure as the ocean on a hot day. “I could die here.”

“Well, I have no intention of dying here.”

“And what would your ladyship have me do? Fetch the horses? Call for a carriage?” Lily said with a bitter laugh.

“How in hell do you keep finding a joke in this?”

“Because,” she threw her arms up in despair, “If I don’t laugh then I shall cry, and frankly how much worse can it get?”

A flash of lightning made Lily jump. Suddenly the dark, gathering clouds looked more menacing than beautiful. She had to hold her hair to keep it from blowing in her eyes as she stared at the beautiful blue ocean growing darker and angrier, like a witch’s cauldron: agitated and churning. Cat stared out to sea, her hair was whipping around like a crackling fire and she looked ready to challenge the incoming storm to a death match. Lily stood and moved closer, finding comfort in Cat’s relentless determination.

The sky cracked, echoing with a deep thunder that had been building since that first flash.

“We're going to swim for it,” Cat said.

Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tempest

Lily looked at Cat, searching her features for any trace of irony.

“Where in hell to?” she asked.

“That main island,” Cat said, pointing out to sea.

Lily looked out toward the rest of the archipelago. A larger strip of land stood out on the horizon, it was large enough for vegetation but at this distance, there was little else to see. “That’s more than a league away, Catherine! Are you mad?”

“Please, tell me you know how to swim,” Cat said, meeting her gaze for a moment. Her eyes flashed like steel; hard and unforgiving. Her strength was comforting and terrifying in equal measure.

“I understand the basic theory but… a league?”

“Well, I’m not staying on this sand-dune waiting for death. If I am to die today I shall die fighting.”

“But…” Lily looked from Cat to the great clouds building and sweeping ever toward them like an army of the devil himself. In the opposite direction lay the distant island Cat suggested. It was calm, untouched, and a world away. Lily doubted she could outrun that storm on a horse, let alone out-swim it. But there was no choice.

“We have to go,” Cat said, grabbing her hand.

The contact was sudden. Cat’s hand was strong, warm, and her fingers intertwined with Lily’s own. She could almost sense Cat’s pulse through her fingertips.

“Lily! Now!”

She gasped as Cat pulled her to the water’s edge.

“I can’t!” She had to shout above the rising wind howling around them and the sound of the waves crashing against one another.

“We’re wasting time!” Cat shouted, she was already calf-deep in the water and her bare feet were sinking into the wet sand. While Lily stood on the water’s edge, her boots covered with each wave as it rushed in and then out again.

“You’re not scared, are you?” Cat taunted.

“Of course, I bloody am!” Lily shouted, angry that such a preposterous suggestion like swimming across the ocean should be anything but terrifying to a rational individual.

Cat looked shocked then confused for a moment. She glanced backwards at their island destination but when she turned around again her features had softened. She crossed the two paces back to Lily’s side, took hold of both of her hands, and stared deep into her eyes.

“I will help you,” she said.

The knot of dread in Lily’s gut loosened at Cat’s words but didn’t disappear. “I’ll drown us both,” Lily said, certain she was right and unwilling to condemn Cat twice in one day.

“No, you won’t.” Cat’s eyes flickered to the storm clouds then back to Lily. Her gaze was firm. “But you must take off your boots and dress.”

“You want me to strip?”

“Down to your shift. The weight of wet skirts will take us both down, I should know.”

“Dare I ask?” Lily questioned.

“Not now,” Cat said, “we are losing time. Here I’ll help.”

Lily’s breath caught in her chest at the touch of Cat’s hands loosening the laces of her bodice. Her fingers so close to the folded parchment of the codebook hidden underneath. Lily was aware of Cat’s eyes on her body as the dress fell to her hips. She tried not to feel self-conscious as her nearly naked figure, in nothing but her stays and shift was revealed below the heavy skirts. The heat of the heavy material was gone and the sensation of the soft breeze against her skin was comforting. Lily threw off her boots and then searched in her dresses for the brass knife and sheath that hung from a belt and the gunpowder in its wax treated leather pouch. Glancing back at the heavy storm cloud, Lily still didn’t feel ready for the journey ahead.

“Come on,” Cat urged, she was growing impatient and Lily wished the day’s events would cease. That the world would just hold its place for a moment so she could catch her breath. But there was no chance of that.

She took Cat’s hand and together they plunged into the water which was ferocious and cool against their skin.

Her breath haggard in fear, Lily followed Cat as she waded deeper into the sea. Her strides slowed as the ever-swirling waves battered against her and then Cat dove under. Lily watched her plunge beneath the surface and rise again further out, out of depth and out of reach. Her muscular arms, one after the other, taking her ever further away. While Lily remained, uncertain and cursing her weakness. She closed her eyes and reprimanded her fear for preventing her from acting.

‘Damn you, find a way through this,’ she thought.

Knowing that her delay was killing her faster than any deed, Lily pushed onward, deeper into the water. The strain of holding her head above the waves pulled at her neck and the water washed up her nose with every stroke. Lily’s weak arms floundered where they should be pulling. Cat soared ahead while she barely moved a yard.

A wave crashed over her head pulling her briefly under. Panic rose within her as she struggled for air.

“Catherine!” She managed to call out desperately. She was determined to pull herself through the water but the ocean had a different idea and again a wave crashed over her. The saltwater filled her nostrils and burned the back of her throat, she coughed as she gasped for air, unable to see with the water stinging her eyes. Her hair covering her face, Lily tried to call out again and tried to see where Cat was but she had no idea which direction she should have been heading.

A flash of lightning streaked across the sky and Lily saw a black wave rise high above her. There was nothing for her to do but witness as it crashed down. The weight of the water pulled her deeper and the light disappeared as Lily realised she was never going to pull herself above the surface again.

Chapter Thirty-Nine
Those in Peril on the Sea

Cat was swimming hard against the current.

She struggled with the waves, going over them where she could or holding her breath and diving under. She fought through the water every way she knew how. The rain battered hard against her head and the wind battered her further. The sound of crashing waves almost drowned out the rolling thunder in the clouds which were fast catching up to her. Each time she surfaced she was disorientated and a moment of panic would rush through her as she searched the horizon for any sign of land.

She heard a call. Distant, small, and hard to hear over the crashing waves and the pelting rain but it was there. She scanned the water for Lily expecting her to be only a few feet behind. But there was no sign of her. She cursed herself, Lily had said she would struggle and she had promised to help but she’d abandoned her instead.

“Lily!” she screamed out but there was no reply. Desperately she turned and headed back.

She saw an arm appear for a moment above the water. Cat dove forward using all her strength to fight through the waves. The black water made it impossible to see but again and again she went under searching.

A flailing hand caught Cat’s thigh and she grabbed it, hauling Lily to the surface. She spluttered and coughed but there was no time for comforting. Cat held her head above water with one arm and swam backwards with the other.

Cadogan Bay flashed in her mind. That desperate escape. How frightened she’d been that she would lose John, that she would die herself, that she would get thrown against the rocks, or caught and hanged. How she’d fought through the water then, how she’d almost lost her battle, and how that had been a calm day at sea. A peaceful and quiet summer morning.

Now, she fought a tropical storm, a swirling wind that seemed to pull the waves higher until they crashed over them, spinning the pair about under water, filling their nostrils, and threatening to silence their shouts forever.

Every time Cat hauled them both to the surface, coughing, struggling for breath and only just catching it, the sea would sweep them under again. She’d fought so hard against drowning, against the thought of her body washing ashore on her childhood playground and yet here she was and the sea was taking her anyway. Only now her body would wash up on an unfamiliar beach, a deserted island where she would be left to rot like the carcass of a wild animal.

Lily pulled her to the surface, her hands gentle in their force. The two of them helped one another through the waves. Cat had almost accepted that she might die, that the devil in the deep blue sea had finally come to claim her but she would be damned if he was going to take Lily as well.

“Go,” Lily called out as they broke the surface. She let go of her hold on Cat, her eyes pleading as she struggled. “I’m dragging you down, leave me!”

“Quiet!” Cat reached out and pulled Lily into an embrace, her body was warm and soft.

Cat knew she was right. She knew that by trying to save her she was bound to condemn them both. But memories of death were too fresh in her mind; Luke, Joe, Smithy, Michael, Billy, and Davies. Each one weighed heavy on her heart and she wasn’t willing to have the sea defeat her. Then, as another wave crashed over them, she wasn’t sure she had the choice.

As they surfaced, spluttering and choking, Cat caught sight of an unfamiliar black shape in the water. At first scared, she made out a large trunk of driftwood bobbing up and down in the water. She laughed in relief.

“Lily,” she called out as she headed toward it, “quick!”

It took Lily a moment to understand. Cat had to abandon her in the water as she reached out to grab the driftwood. Pulling herself up onto it she then turned to help Lily and hauled her tired body up onto the trunk.

Next to one another, their torsos slung over the driftwood, they rose up and then plummeted down in the waves with the rain battering the from above. Holding onto the wood as the storm threw them about in the choppy ocean ignited a queasiness inside Cat that she prayed would dissipate.

Lily looked desperate; her arms were slung over the log and she could no longer hold her head up. Her wet, straw coloured hair was straggling over her pale shoulders and back. Her shivering frame reminded Cat of the abandoned kitten she and the village lads had saved from the river one winter many years before. They had brought it to school wrapped in a sack and left it by the fire to warm through. But now she had no fire. Cat wrapped an arm around her. Lily’s skin was cold to the touch, her body shivering, her teeth chattering, her muscles taught where she clung to the driftwood for dear life. But the warmth of another human body warmed her cold bones.

“Can you hold on?” Cat managed to ask. Lily nodded but Cat knew the two of them couldn’t hold on forever.

The rain pelted at them, firing at the ocean like grapeshot, hitting their heads and bodies hard while the wind bit at their wet skin. Cat started to drift off into a queasy sleep when, as they rose on the crest of a wave, she caught sight of land.

“Lily!” she called, shaking her.

“Wha-” Lily was dozy with cold and exhaustion.

“We’re nearly there!” She shook her again. “Come on,” she said, “come on, paddle with me.”

Her arms holding on tight, she sunk down into the water a little more and put her feet out to paddle, calling out for Lily to do the same. Drowsily, Lily copied but Cat saw that she was weak, almost too weak. This only furthered Cat’s resolve; she would simply have to work twice as hard. Calling to Lily to prevent her dozing into an unnatural sleep, she pushed hard toward the island. Her muscles burned with fatigue but they had completed the worst of the crossing. The tide was in their favour and each wave brought them closer and closer to the unfamiliar shore until finally, as Cat felt she had pushed her body beyond its strength, there was sand beneath her feet.

She could have cried with delight but she had to push further, just that last bit further. Then she tossed the driftwood aside and grabbed hold of Lily as she fell to her knees in the shallows. The rain assaulted them but Cat could see clearly enough through the storm to make out a rock formation on the far side of the beach that might offer them some shelter.

Cat half carried the unstable Lily up the beach. She felt almost drunk having been in the water for so long and they both struggled to find their land legs.

They found a gap between the rocks. It wasn’t deep but it was dry inside and they staggered toward the back. Out of the rain and the worst of the storm, they could shelter from the wind. They were both soaked through but there was nothing to be done about their clothes and nothing with which to make a fire.

The cold bit at her skin and Cat could see Lily shivering in the half dark, hunched over, and holding her body, trying to warm her shoulders and bare skin.

Cat thought back to how strong and superior Lily had seemed that first day. As if she were Empress of the known world but looking at her now, sitting in the poorly lit cave in growing puddle of seawater like a washed-up gutter rat, Cat realised how frail, small, and in need of help she really was.

Cat edged along the cave floor, she was just as cold and soaked through but she hoped their combined warmth would help. Tentatively she slid an arm around the shivering girl.

“Th…ank…you,” Lily stammered through chattering teeth.

“S’all right,” Cat replied, her insides choked with cold, “I’m freezing too,”

“I… I mean… ffff-for… saving… me.”

Cat couldn’t answer, couldn’t explain the deaths she had witnessed and the desperate need she had to keep Lily alive. She knew it would do little to comfort her but there was something more that made her determined to make sure Lily lived. She wondered if it was the guilt of causing her to be marooned, the promise she had made on the beach, the desire to prove herself capable, or a combination of all three.

She held Lily a little tighter. Rubbing her limbs to try to get the warmth through them both.

“I was so scared,” Lily said, her teeth still chattering, she rocked back and forth as if willing her body to warm up.

Eventually, Lily melted into her, resting her head against Cat’s shoulder as Cat leant back against the wall.

“I don’t know how you weren’t scared.” Lily’s voice was weak, slow, and growing ever more tired.

Eventually, her chattering stopped and her breathing steadied. Cat realised she was asleep. She stroked her skin softly and then kissed her gently on the top of the head.

“I was terrified,” she whispered.

Chapter Forty
The Cave

Cat awoke sore, stiff, and cold through to her bones.

She was sitting at an awkward angle slumped against the wall. It took her a moment to realise she was no longer aboard ship, that she wasn’t stuck below deck with twenty sweaty sailors, and didn’t have to go on duty. But her temporary relief was washed aside the moment she remembered what had occurred.

The bright sunlight told her it was early afternoon. So she couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours but she felt as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks, and thirst bit at her throat drying out her sore lips.

Cat needed to find food and water fast. She would have to scout the island and see what riches if any, her new home had to offer. But laying on her shoulder sleeping soundly, warm and content, was Lily. Despite the discomfort, Cat couldn’t bear to leave.

She knew that the smallest movement, the smallest touch, would wake her. Still and silent, her chest gently rose and fell with each breath. Cat studied her gentle curves, smooth, soft skin, pale from staying indoors, and her hands, soft from not having to pull ropes or lift crates.

Cat gently brushed her hand along Lily’s bare shoulder.

Lily stirred.

Cat stopped still, shocked and ashamed at nearly being caught in her admiration as Lily stirred further; waking from her deep sleep. Cat wanted to move. She had to get away from her. She couldn’t stand the thought of this sudden shameful desire being discovered.

She stood up quickly, forcing Lily to wake.

“I had forgotten…” Lily said, a croak in her voice telling Cat she wasn’t fully awake yet.

“We need to find food and water,” Cat said firmly, business-like as if they hadn’t slept curled up together like renaissance lovers.

“Yes, yes of course,” Lily replied dreamily, as she unsteadily got to her feet. “I’ll come with you.”

“We’ll cover more ground if we split up,” Cat replied, moving to the mouth of the cave and surveying the beach.

Large chunks of driftwood, empty seashells, rocks, and the remnants of ships packing crates were all scattered here and there about the shoreline as if the sea had dredged everything up and left the beach untidy after a game.

“We should stay together,” Lily said, moving to Cat’s side and peering nervously out from the cave. “We don’t know what’s out there.”

But Cat was firm. “Precisely,” she said, “we don’t have much light left, and we need to find water.”

“But what if we can’t find each other again?”

“Just walk along the beach for a while, then turn and come back to the cave. It isn’t difficult.”

“I still think we should stay together.”

“Why must you paw at me so?” Cat snapped, “You can’t just follow me wherever I go, like… like a stray dog!”

“There could be anything out there,” Lily said, her voice stronger, angrier, “wild beasts, savages, pirates! I am as concerned for your safety as I am for my own. We are far better able to face a danger together than if we run off in opposite directions. We shall both get killed in different ways.”

“Look, if you get scared then scream and I shall come running to save you. Again.”

“Do you know something?” Lily said, leaving the cave and turning back to Cat, “If you find yourself facing a horde of savages or a pit of snakes, don’t bother calling out. For I shall be too busy watching my own back to lift a finger to help you.” And with that she turned and strolled off along the beach, her bare feet trudging through soft sand turned hot in the sun.

Cat watched as she went, her back straight, proud, and haughty, the belt with her knife and leather pouch slung loosely at her waist, her cotton shift and stays still damp, clinging to her skin, revealing her curves, her blonde hair hung loose and damp down her back.

Cat thought of going after her, apologising. She hadn’t meant to be so harsh. The further Lily walked away, the more Cat realised that she did have concerns about what she might encounter on the island. But she didn’t move, instead, she watched as Lily walked further and further out of reach.

Chapter Forty-One
The Island

The sun was threatening to dip below the horizon but Cat was still scouring the shoreline and the trees along the beach for signs of fresh water, or anything she could eat.

She’d been combing for hours. She was hot, tired, and desperately thirsty but didn’t want to return empty-handed. She couldn’t face it after what she’d said to Lily.

The pain of embarrassment spun in her stomach as she remembered how unreasonable she’d been. It wasn’t as though she didn’t want to be near Lily, she did, it was simply that she didn’t want Lily to know she wanted to be near her.

It was confusing and absurd. She tried to concentrate on continuing her search, unsure exactly what she was hoping to find. She was simply walking further and further away from the cave. But it was fast becoming time to turn around. If she waited until after dark she might not find the cave again and would have to sleep exposed on the beach or hidden in the tall trees.

It was then, as she turned to head back, that she stumbled upon a pool of clear water. It was small and shallow but far enough from the shore that it might be pure rainwater.

Carefully, she crouched down and brought a little to her lips. It was clean. Not a trace of salt.

Overjoyed, she cupped her hands and began to lap up the drink. It was only once she had sated her thirst that she wondered how to carry it back to Lily. She ran down the shoreline and took up one of the large shells. Cleaning it in the sea, she poured out the contents to clear the inside of sand, then rushed back to the small pool to fill it.

Cat felt reckless for abandoning Lily, especially her after doing everything she could to save her. Suddenly she knew she had to get back, she might have been hurt or become lost. She shouldn’t have left her alone, she had been stupid.

Careful not to spill the contents of the shell, Cat hurried along the beach making quick progress now she was no longer scouring every inch of sand for food or bottles of long abandoned rum.

As she came around the headland she saw the cave and gasped at the sight of a fire.

Panicking, she ran forward and spilt some of the water before realising it wasn’t a forest fire. Lily must have built it from the driftwood scattered along the beach.

As Cat drew closer it became more and more apparent that Lily was far more capable than she had given her credit for. The fire was just inside the entrance to the cave, so it was blowing the smoke out but wouldn’t be drowned if there was rain.

Lily had also gathered a large pile of shellfish, her clothes were dry, as was her hair which was curling slightly as it hung loosely about her bare shoulders. She didn’t look up as Cat approached and Cat understood that to mean Lily was still angry with her.

She wanted to apologise but didn’t have the words. Instead, she held out the shell. Lily glanced up briefly and then took the water.

“Thank you,” she said before taking a sip and handing it back.

“No, I had some, it’s all yours.” Cat was delighted to see a smile cross Lily’s face and watched as she greedily gulped the contents of the shell. A single drop fell from her lips as she drank. It made its way from her mouth to her jaw, down her throat to her chest, and slid down between her breasts. Cat quickly looked back to her face as Lily finished drinking.

“How are you planning on cooking those?” Cat asked, indicating the two dozen or so shellfish. She wanted to make conversation and concentrate on something other than that rogue droplet of water.

“I… I don’t know.” Lily shrugged, “I think I’ll just have to throw them on the fire.”

“We used to use seaweed.”

“What?”

“When I was younger, we’d collect mussels and cockles and cook them on an open fire wrapped in seaweed.”

Lily looked at her dubiously, “Why were you cooking on an open fire?”

Cat realised that Lily only thought of her as the young Lady Cadogan and would never have guessed she spent most of her childhood in the local school with children from the village. No one would have imagined that the young daughter of the Lord of the Manor would spend the afternoons of her early years exploring the countryside with her friends. Until one-by-one, each of them was sent away to apprenticeships or suitable marriages and Cat was reluctantly forced into a cheap finishing school.

“I didn’t want to go home,” she explained, before heading down the beach to gather bundles of brown seaweed that had collected on the rocks below their little cave.

Cat used a stick to flatten out a section of fire and threw the seaweed over the burning charcoal. It sent up a great cloud of smoke and Lily looked at her as though she had gone completely mad. Cat then tossed all the shellfish onto the hot seaweed and covered them up with another layer.

“Are you certain of this?” Lily asked, no doubt concerned that all her good work was being undone by a lunatic.

“Should only take a few minutes,” Cat replied, confidently. Relieved that she could prove herself with more than just a cup of water. They sat together inside the cave as the fire continued to spit and crackle and the smoke billowed up from the fire and into the heavens.

As the sun eased below the horizon the heat from the day was melting into the evening sky and a brisk coolness was settling onto the beach. The fire warmed Cat’s skin and the smell of burning wood reminded her of the galley on board ship and the fireside back at home with Michael and their friends.

She wanted to talk to Lily, to tell her about those memories but she held back. She hadn’t told her about Michael or The Swan. As far as Lily understood, Cat had run away from Cadogan Manor one night and been serving aboard the Sea Nymph the next. Her elopement, her year as a landlady, her smuggling ring… none of that existed to Lily and Cat saw no reason why it would ever have to.

The aroma of steaming clams wafted through the air and Cat picked up the stick, brushing the layer of seaweed off the shellfish and there they sat, like buried treasure. All the shells had opened to reveal the succulent fresh meat. Cat wished she had some salted butter and bread so she might serve them as she would have at home.

They were piping hot, tentatively she tried one as Lily watched. They were as pure and clean as the cockles and mussels from Cornwall.

She nodded to Lily. “They’re good,” she said.

And Lily hungrily joined the little feast.

As she ate, she looked out at the red streaked sky and felt the heat from the fire soak into her chilled bones. She decided that perhaps the island was not so bad a place after all.

She glanced at Lily, sitting cross-legged and leaning against the cave wall. She looked comfortable and content, the firelight danced in her eyes and her bare skin looked warm and soft. Cat wanted to reach out and touch her. Lily turned to her and their eyes met.

For a moment, Cat was frozen with embarrassment.

She turned back to the fire, watching flames and shadows dance as she desperately tried to ignore her growing and unfathomable yearning for Lily.

Chapter Forty-Two
Campfire

Lily threw a final piece of driftwood on the large stack.

She’d piled it high with as much wood as she could find and decided that the best place for a pyre was on a low rocky outcrop a few hundred yards from the cave. The smoke from their small fire the night before had been impressive. Lily hoped the smoke from this pyre would be seen for miles. If a ship did pass close by—No! She was certain that ‘when’ a ship passed close by, then she would be sure to catch their attention.

Scanning the horizon, she knew she wasn’t in luck today. She would have been surprised if their saviours had appeared on the darkening horizon the moment she was ready for them, but she was still worried. There wasn’t enough food or water to sustain them both for long and she hoped, desperately hoped, that a trading vessel would pass any day now.

But instead of a ship, it seemed as though another tropical storm was on the way. She reminded herself that the storm would bring rain and they badly needed more water but on such a small, low-lying island, the thought of a savage gale worried her.

She turned and headed up the beach back to the cave, her stomach growling in hunger. They had found more shellfish to eat and Cat had been determined to create a slingshot to catch birds but Lily wasn’t hopeful for success. They needed help.

Cat was stoking the fire as she returned, keeping it warm without burning too much of their fuel. Lily didn’t have enough gunpowder left in her little wax-sealed leather pouch to keep relighting it and, secretly, she wanted to save what was left for her pyre.

Lily enjoyed watching Cat work. Her movements were so confident and thorough; there was nothing hesitant or afraid about the young Lady Catherine Cadogan. Lily noticed that Cat had dug a hole in the sand which she’d filled with seawater to keep the shellfish fresh and was impressed by her ingenuity. She remembered that Cat had somehow managed to conceal her figure on board ship for months and fool everyone aboard into believing she was a man. Looking at her now, her dark hair falling about her shoulders, her shapely hips under the tight breeches, the curve of her waist… Lily wondered how anyone could have been so deceived.

Cat looked up as Lily arrived and there was a gentle smile of greeting on her lips. Lily could never be sure if Cat would be pleased or irritated to see her. She felt a fool for hoping but the occasional smile filled her with fresh optimism for their friendship. She knew she should have been angrier with Cat, she had lied to her, betrayed her, dragged her unwittingly into the duel that had abandoned them on the island yet Lily couldn’t help but be drawn to her strength, her courage, and her sheer ferocity. She also couldn’t forget that Cat had risked her own life to ensure Lily reached their island alive.

“I…” Lily started, “I don’t think I ever had a chance to properly thank you,”

“Thank me?” Cat said, looking up briefly from attending the fire.

“For yesterday, for…” she was reluctant to say the words, she was aware of how ridiculous it sounded, how like a maiden in distress she had been, “for saving me.” She finished, unable to think of alternative phrasing.

“You’re welcome,” Cat replied, a fresh smile on her lips, “The food is nearly ready if you’re hungry.”

Lily was ravenous and nodded enthusiastically but she didn’t believe the few scraps of flesh from the clams would begin to cover the hunger or the thirst. She tried not to think about how long they might have to wait before another ship came close enough to the island for her to see it and light the pyre. She would have to be vigilant.

Lily watched as Cat carefully pulled the top layer of seaweed from her make-shift oven and the fresh salty smell of the cooked shellfish filled the little cave. The scent took Lily right back to London, to the fish markets where she would often be taken as a child, sometimes by her mother, sometimes by one of the other women. There would always be cooking on open fires and she would be allowed to taste fresh cockles, mussels, and oysters in return for helping to carry the fresh fish home for supper. The memory warmed her, reminding her of a time when she lived without worries, a time long before any death had affected her, when she was surrounded by people that took care of her; it was a time when she didn’t feel alone or deserted.

Sitting on the cave floor beside Cat, looking out over the fire and across the sea, with the warmth of the hot charcoals, and the hot supper in her hands, it almost felt like home.

“There should be rain overnight,” Cat said, after a long silence.

“We need the water.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to sleep in it,” Cat replied.

The clams were hot and burnt Lily’s tongue. She longed for bread or potatoes to go with them and a little ale or white wine to wash them down. She reached down to take another and her hand brushed Cat’s. The sudden contact shocked her and she recoiled quickly but immediately regretted her action and hoped Cat hadn’t mistaken her surprise for contempt. Suddenly the long silence between them was agony.

“I’d hate to be out there in a storm.”

“At least they can sail through it,” Cat said, bitterly. “We just have to sit here and hope we don’t get washed away.”

“I think the island has been here a while, it won’t get washed away by one storm.”

“It would be just my luck.” Cat threw one of the empty shells into the fire, her voice was tainted with frustration and Lily wasn’t sure if it was because she was still hungry or if the pain of her abandonment was getting to her. Lily knew that the betrayal would be all the more bitter to Cat after having spent so many months believing her shipmates to have been her friends.

Lily reached out and tentatively placed a hand on Cat’s arm. She wanted to comfort her and show that she regretted pulling away the moment before. “At least we aren’t alone,” she reminded her.

Cat placed her own hand upon Lily’s and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, “and… I am sorry I dragged you into all of this.”

Lily shook her head, unwilling to let Cat take all the blame, “It was my glory hunt that dragged everyone into this godforsaken voyage.”

Cat smiled again and Lily was all too aware of the heat of Cat’s touch against her skin and the weight of Cat’s hand against her own. As Cat gently brushed the back of her hand with her thumb, gently stroking Lily’s skin, all the hairs along her arms stood up and she shuddered as if with a chill.

“Are you cold?” Cat asked with a look of concern.

As the wind picked up, swirling the flames of the fire and the heat of the day slowly ebbed away into twilight, Lily realised she was starting to feel uncomfortably cool.

“A little,” she said, withdrawing her hand and rubbing her goose-bumped arms for comfort. Cat sidled up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she had done the day before. Lily was embarrassed by her vulnerability yet she found comfort in Cat’s strength and was grateful to her just for being there and sitting with her in that cave, holding her.

“Do you think they’ve found the treasure yet?” Cat asked.

Lily smiled, “They should have reached the island but…” she contemplated whether to confess and decided there was no reason not to, “They’ll never find the treasure.” She drew out the square of folded parchment concealed in her bodice, a little smudged but otherwise undamaged from their swim, and handed it to Cat.

“What’s this?” Cat asked, unfolding it with her free hand, before staring at it for a long while, “these are directions…?”

“From the smallest inlet, up the mountain path to a concealed cave.” Lily giggled, thinking of the pirates combing the beach, digging in the sands, cutting through jungle, “They could be searching for months!”

Cat chuckled. “You, clever woman!” Her eyes were bright in the light of the fire, she was animated and joyous as she laughed, “That bastard, Hood,” Cat added, “and Parsons they will be driven mad with it!” she looked down at Lily, their eyes both held the same intense gaze.

Moments passed. Lily couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and did not feel her heart beat once. She wondered if Cat felt the intense pull between them or if it was a phantom only she could feel.

“You are brilliant,” Cat said, and Lily was sure that in those eyes she saw the same intensity of passion reflected back. She was certain that Cat’s softly parted lips were eager for her own and, in that moment of certainty, their lips touched.

But Cat didn’t return her kiss.

She gasped with surprise and Lily pulled back, stunned at what she had done, ashamed. She saw the look of astonishment on Cat’s face and, blinded by panic, and humiliation, Lily ran.

Chapter Forty-Three
Lightning

Cat took a moment to react, to realise what had happened.

But as a loud clap of thunder rumbled across the island, she knew she didn’t have time to think things through; she had to go after Lily.

The rain had started to pour, hitting the sand like shrapnel, the black sea was rising and stirring tumultuously, angry and swirling like the storm clouds hanging low above it.

It was dark enough that it could have been the middle of the night but the sun still had some way to go before falling below the horizon completely. Cat scanned the deserted beach looking for any sign of Lily. She could see their footprints from the day, running back and forth through the soft sand and the tall thin trees, their great leaves swirling in the wind but there was no sign of her.

Then, in a flash of lightning that lit up the beach for less than a second, she saw Lily, her white cotton shift standing out against the darkness as she ran toward the tree line.

Cat took off at a sprint but her bare feet were not used to the rise and fall of the loose sand and she was blinded by her hair whipping around her head and by rain slapping against her face and skin.

By the time she reached the tree line of the little, unexplored jungle at the centre of their island, Lily was nowhere to be seen. In a panic, Cat ran forward crushing leaves and vines under her bare feet, running this way and that.

She knew Lily could not have gone far but, in the darkness, she could barely see.

She caught a flash of her white figure silhouetted against the black sky. The last rays of the sun were forcing themselves through a parting in the clouds and Lily was stood leaning against a tall, thin tree, looking out toward the ocean. Her soft hair blowing gently and her hand gently rubbing at her bare arms, cold in the wind.

“Lily!” Cat cried out, not knowing what else to say, unsure now why she had followed her, or what she had expected to do when she found her.

Lily turned to her and Cat realised there were tears in her eyes but she wasn’t ashamed, her chin was raised, proud and defiant. Suddenly Cat was the one who was ashamed. Embarrassed that she’d followed her and invaded the privacy Lily had demanded by her flight.

Cat was annoyed at herself for not reacting in the right way, for not understanding what was going on, what was happening between them, or how she felt about it.

She shouldn’t have followed. She shouldn’t have gone out into the night, out into the storm. She should leave. Just leave Lily alone.

Cat took a step back, embarrassed at whatever Lily might think of her.

“I’m sorry… I—” Lily said.

Cat was surprised; she should be the one apologising to Lily. “It’s alright,” she said, wanting to comfort but unsure how. She reached out to touch Lily’s bare arm, her skin was cold and wet with rain. Cat wanted to protect her, to bring her into their shelter. Lily looked up at her with eyes deep enough to fall into and Cat pulled her into an embrace.

Lily slid her arms around Cat’s waist, holding their bodies together as the storm blew around them, churning the sea and filling the air with noise. But the only thing Cat could hear was the sound of her heart racing, all she could feel was the heat of the embrace, and all she wanted was the touch of Lily’s lips against her own.

She took Lily’s cheek in her hand, stroking the soft skin of her jaw, her full lips gently parted, waiting. Her nerves seemed to swell and flicker across her fingertips where she touched Lily’s skin, burning through her until she could no longer bear to resist and she kissed her. With full lips against her own and lightning running through her body, the storm, the sea, everything was drowned out by that kiss.

As she felt Lily’s hands tentatively explore her body, the excitement burned through her and her own hand slid down to Lily waist and then her thigh. Cat’s desire outweighed her reservations and she clasped the firmness of Lily’s backside, almost nothing between their bare skin but the thin layer of cotton shift.

The forest was lit with a sudden flash and a deafening roar of thunder cracked the sky above them.

They broke apart, Cat’s heart racing. “We have to go!”

Chapter Forty-Four
Shelter in a Storm

Cat kept a tight hold of Lily’s hand as they ran back across the beach.

Lily’s skin tingled with the pelting rain and she kept her head down, trusting Cat’s footsteps as they ran across the wet sand then clambered up the slippery rocks toward the cave where the fire still burned. Bright and warm.

“Do you think it’s safe here?” she asked, but knew Cat could only guess.

“Safer than out there.”

Now in shelter, it seemed that all she could hear was the crackling and spitting of wood and the pounding of her heartbeat. She still held tightly onto Cat’s hand, not wanting to let go, not wanting the moment they had shared to be lost.

She felt Cat’s hand against her arm. “You’re soaked,” Cat said, her shirt open at the neck, sodden and hanging from her like rags. Her hair, usually curled was flattened with water, loose strands clinging to her face, her cheeks red with exertion.

Lily laughed. “So are you.”

Cat smiled and Lily’s breath caught in her chest as she reached out and brushed the wet strands from Cat’s face, their eyes seemed to hold one another still. Lily couldn’t hold back, not now. She had felt Cat’s desire, a desire that matched her own and nothing as trifling as a tempest mattered.

Their lips met.

Lily grabbed the wet material of Cat’s shirt and pulled her closer. She wanted to feel the softness of Cat’s skin, her flesh. Lily’s hand slid under the cotton shirt and found her waist, just a few inches of hot bare flesh between the waistband of her breeches and the tight binding around her torso.

Cat gasped as Lily’s fingers touched her skin, she wanted more, she wanted to be rid of her sodden heavy clothes. Nervous but impatient, she pulled back and lifted her shirt from her body. She couldn’t bear to be parted from Lily’s lips for long and returned to her, fumbling blindly with the bandages. Lily took over. Her nimble fingers were cold and slow but the wrappings quickly fell away and Cat could hardly breathe as Lily finally stroked the bare flesh.

Cat pulled at the laces on Lily’s bodice loosening the garment until it fell away from her, leaving Lily in only her white cotton shift. Sliding her hands up Lily’s bare arms Cat found the straps of her shift and loosened them from her shoulders. Lily let the cotton fall to her waist and Cat pulled away to marvel at the sight of her, her full breasts, hard pink nipples, her soft flesh, and the material of the shift resting upon her round hips. Softly, Cat stroked Lily’s cool skin, her nipples were hard, and she had gentle goose-bumps from both the cold and the anticipation. Slowly, Cat moved her hand upwards then finally cupped Lily’s breast in her hand and Lily’s eyes, black with desire, met her own.

Lily cast off the rest of her shift. Challenging Cat to want her more, she stood naked in the firelight. Impatience crushing her nerves, Cat ran her hand down Lily’s torso feeling the softness against her palms and Lily moved forward, taking Cat’s cheek in her hand and pulling her lips towards her own. Pressing her naked breasts against Cat’s, their bodies longed for more of one another.

Loosening the ties on her breeches, Cat let them fall to the floor. Her body was burning with desire as she pressed Lily against the cave wall, moaning as their bodies finally touched.

She ran her hands down the curves of Lily’s waist, grabbing her thighs, then her backside, firm and squeezable. Lily raised her hips pressing herself against Cat’s thigh, writhing against her and Cat mimicked her movements.

Their desire was growing, taking over them, pushing all other thoughts away. Cat buried her face in Lily’s neck, kissing, wanting to consume her, gently biting at the flesh as Lily moaned softly in her ear. Her lips searched down and she found Lily’s right nipple, hard and pink. She kissed it, sucked, let her tongue play with it as Lily writhed under her touch, moaning and wanting more.

She glanced up, Lily was calling out to her with those eyes, begging her as Cat’s own body was screaming out for more.

Cat returned to those lips, kissing, gently playing yet uncertain and Lily seemed to read her thoughts. Her soft hands stroked Cat’s pale skin, soft flesh that had been bandaged for so long. Cat gasped as she playfully pulled at her nipple, stroking her breast and then her abdomen.

Cat watched Lily’s breath catch in her chest as her hand slid further down. Cat gripped Lily’s flesh and looked into her eyes; strong, playful, and full of fresh desire. She gasped at the shock and delight of Lily reaching her destination.

Her touch was light and delicate, sliding against her and Cat couldn’t prevent the moans escaping her lips.

She cried out Lily’s name as her hips rocked against her hand. Nothing had felt like this, nothing had ever felt like this to her. Her body screamed for more and all she wanted was for Lily to feel the same. Between gasps, as Lily’s slow movements rendered all thoughts useless, she followed Lily’s soft smooth flesh from her thigh upwards. Lily’s hips rose to meet her fingers and her body fluttered in response.

Cat watched her. There was no need for clumsy words to interrupt them and Cat watched Lily respond to her as her own desire almost crippled her into blunt action but delicately Lily writhed against her. Her moans encouraging in the most beautiful way and Cat’s confidence grew and her movements become steadier, learning how Lily liked to be touched.

Lily’s eyes seemed to grow wider and more pleading as Cat continued and her own desire was growing at Lily’s touch.

They looked at one another, mirroring one another’s movements, gently showing one another and learning what the other wanted.

Cat fought to keep her eyes open, fought to maintain her connection with the beautiful woman who was doing beautiful things to her, but she was overtaken.

Blinded by a wave of irresistible ecstasy flooding through her, she cried out; a primal moan from deep within her as she trembled and shuddered. With Lily crying out as she found her own climax against Cat.

Her body weakened and sated and her muscles no longer able to tense, Cat slowly kissed Lily.

They moved to the floor of the cave and lay naked together as the heat of the fire warmed their bodies and they listened to the sound of the rain softly pattering outside.

The worst of the storm had died out and although Cat tried to keep awake, as she held Lily tight against her, she was pulled under a deep swell of sleep.

***

Cat woke. A little dreamy, with a smile forming on her lips as she remembered the night before. She laughed to herself, amazed that her body— their bodies could achieve what they had managed together. She was amazed that such glory was possible. She understood now. She finally understood how men were driven mad with lust, why women succumbed to seduction, and finally she allowed herself to admit that she understood what love meant.

She had never thought it possible. Never thought she could be with someone, that there could be someone that she might want to be with.

Perhaps everything she had been through had led her here, to this island with Lily, and now they would make their lives here away from the eyes of the rest of the world. Just the two of them

She looked around the cave for her. The morning was bright but the sun hadn’t yet reached her naked body, she was cold, and she wanted Lily’s bare skin against her own once again.

But she was gone.

Thinking that she was roused by thirst or hunger, Cat decided to seek her out and pulled herself to her feet before replacing her breeches and shirt. Her back was a little sore but had healed enough that she no longer needed the bandages and she was glad to be free of them.

She stepped out into the bright light of the fresh morning and was surprised to see a great pillar of smoke rising from the rocky outcrop a few hundred yards down the beach. She wondered if the storm had caused a fire if it had raged all night without their knowledge. Fearing for Lily’s safety, Cat darted forward.

“Lily!” She called out as she ran and was relieved to hear a reply. Up ahead she could see the figure of Lily running toward her. “What’s happened?” she asked as they reached one another but Lily was too out of breath to answer right away, “What’s happened?” she asked again.

“It’s a ship!” Lily said, grinning as she looked up at her, her cheeks red, and her eyes filled with delight.

“What?”

“A ship, Cat, we are rescued!”

PART V: THE HERAKLES

Chapter Forty-Five
Rescued

Cat and Lily sat in silence as they were rowed out on a little clipper boat toward the large three-masted ship.

Cat looked longingly back.

She was tired, her muscles ached from sleeping on the bare rock, she was hungry and so parched she believed she could drink a dozen gallons, but she didn’t want to leave that little island. She glanced at Lily, wrapped in a jacket one of the sailors had given her, an eager smile on her lips, and her eyes fixed on the looming presence of the tall ship. Cat knew she was losing something very precious and she wasn’t certain if she would ever get it back.

The ship, their new home on the sea, was slightly larger than the Kraken. It held a gun deck, three masts, a large aftcastle for officers, and, Cat thought, a rather stupid name.

“It is!” Lily exclaimed.

“What is what?” Cat asked, sulkily.

“It’s the Herakles!”

Cat searched her mind for any mention of a Herakles but she was certain she had never heard it and couldn’t understand Lily’s excitement.

“I know the Captain!” Lily added.

Cat was dubious, “Out of all the ships in the ocean, it so happens we are rescued by a friend of yours?”

Lily laughed. “Not quite a friend… and it’s not exactly unlikely.”

“I don’t think—”

Lily leant across and whispered to Cat, “I told him where we were going.”

“You told him of the treasure but not your own shipmates?” Cat hissed back, aware that the two crewmen rowing their little boat were more interested in what they were saying when their voices were low.

“I only told him the nearest port.” Lily looked a little disappointed at Cat’s reaction, “It was… an insurance policy.” But the smile was long gone from her lips.

Cat turned back to look at the encroaching ship and not another word was uttered until the oarsmen called that they were clear to board.

The clipper was raised with a few shouts and the Able Seamen went to work with ropes and pulleys raising the boat with its four occupants until they were level with the deck. Waiting for them as they arrived were three men in the smart blue jackets and clean white breeches of officers. One was clearly the Captain standing a little in front of the other two. He was a tall, athletic man, with a beaming smile, and eyes as dark as his long hair which he wore simply, tied at the nape of his neck. His hat came off in one sweep and, with a gracious and beaming smile, he stepped forward and offered his hand to Lily.

“Welcome aboard, my lady,” his voice was rich and deep.

“Thank you,” Lily replied, taking his hand and stepping from the boat onto the deck, “I must say, Captain, I wonder if perhaps I could hire your services after all.”

He let out a roar of laughter and as they talked Cat made her own way out of the boat. She hardly wanted to listen as Lily prattled on, apologising for not being dressed for the occasion, and for not having bought a gift aboard. Cat on the other hand, stood defiant and proud in her shirt and slops with her arms folded as various crewman worked around her. She noticed they were efficient and quiet, the ship was almost gleaming, the knots looked properly tied, and the lines well tarred. But despite their busyness, the men kept sneaking the occasional curious glance while attempting to conceal their interest.

Briefly, Cat caught a glimpse of a man who looked bizarrely familiar. He turned away almost instantly and before Cat had any real chance to look at him. But his resemblance to that timid wolfhound, Cobham from the old Sea Nymph was remarkable. A twist of knots swirled in her belly. She kept close to Lily and the Captain as they walked toward the aft castle and, as casually as she could, she tried to look for other men she recognised. She knew she was likely going mad from the hunger and desperately wanted, needed to be wrong, ‘because,’ she concluded in her desperate mind ‘if Cobham is here, then so is—’

“May I present, Master Edward Kingsley.”

As if the doors of hell themselves had opened and spat him out from the depths, Kingsley swept forward from behind two officers and bowed curtly to Lily.

“We’ve had two rescues on this one voyage alone!” the Captain said, oblivious to the fear crippling Cat and threatening to make her crumble, run, or leap at Kingsley with nothing but nails and teeth. “Would you believe we found him and ten men floating about at sea in a launch!”

“Actually,” Lily replied, the tone of her voice so perfectly even it was almost impossible to tell that she uttered the words through gritted teeth. “I do believe I would.”

“We’ve already had the pleasure of acquaintance, Captain,” Kingsley explained and Cat didn’t realise quite how strongly she’d wished never to hear that voice again. “As have we,” Kingsley continued, suddenly turning his ice blue eyes directly to Cat making her stomach swirl with a freezing nausea that threatened to choke her, “Madam,” he spat the word with such disdain that Cat was sure she felt the spittle of his fury a full ten feet away.

The Captain spun around and seemed to see Cat for the very first time. He looked her up and down with a mixture of disdain, confusion, and humour. “Madam, please forgive me!” he said, his voice dripping with excellent breeding, “Captain Frederick Yates,” he held out a hand which Cat simply stared at.

“This young… woman,” Kingsley interrupted, “is not fit for your apologies, Sir.”

“Master Kingsley, I don’t believe you are being entirely fair,” Lily tried.

“I see that your new pirate crew tired of you quicker than even I,” Kingsley continued, clearly enjoying the shock and surprise that had rendered Cat momentarily mute.

“Kingsley, man, I would have you explain your motive for treating our new guest with such disrespect.”

“This woman, Captain, is the very reason you found my crew and I put to sea without food, without water, and left to die a slow and painful death. This woman, who shows not a shadow of remorse for her actions, is a mistress of deceit and was, no less, the lead mutineer aboard the Sea Nymph.”

“Now, Mr Kingsley,” Lily interjected quickly, “I must say that is entirely without justification, she was indisposed in my quarters during the mutiny,” then added, “she was wounded, it was because of a wound… that she was there.” The defence of their actions was so awkward and unnecessary that Cat was certain it raised more questions that it put to rest and she was furious as to why Lily even wanted to defend herself in front of this handsome young Captain Yates.

“I have to say, Mr Kingsley, I am going to need more evidence for such a serious allegation against this young woman. If Miss Lillian says that she played no part in the mutiny then I am predisposed to believe her.”

“I understand,” Kingsley said, nodding dutifully to the Captain and for a brief moment Cat almost believed that he had somehow been tamed by this man.

But she was mistaken.

“However, I have discovered evidence of this girl’s guilt amongst your own papers, Captain.”

Cat smiled in relief. She knew whatever Kingsley had ‘discovered’ in a complete stranger’s office was irrelevant and could only serve to demonstrate his willingness to search through the private quarters of a superior.

“Kingsley!” the Captain snapped, “What the devil is the meaning of this? What do you mean by going through my papers?”

Cat could hardly conceal the grin that threatened to break out across her features.

“Forgive me; I merely glanced through a few non-confidential documents, Sir. Your collection of leaflets from the port of Bristol, including the likenesses of several wanted criminals, issued the day my last ship left port.” Cat’s stomach turned cold, “Incidentally,” Kingsley continued, “I had seen the likenesses myself but had not the chance to go back to my office and examine it once this girl’s true nature had been revealed, for it was her unmasking that triggered the aforementioned… mutiny.”

The whole world slowed down and Cat watched helplessly as Kingsley produced a rolled piece of paper from his pocket and held it out. Letting the poster unravel to show the likeness of the young Lady Catherine Cadogan, an image sketched just the summer before and yet it seemed like three lifetimes ago.

Above her smiling face were the incriminating words 'Mrs Meadows' and, at the bottom of the poster, were the words ‘Wanted: for smuggling, theft, and murder.’

Chapter Forty-Six
Mrs Meadows

Captain Yates snatched the poster and looked down at it, then up at Cat with disturbed realisation. Lily stared at the poster in the Captain’s hands. She stared at the features of the girl in the drawing. Despite the change of hairstyle, the absence of fine clothes, and the change of composure, the features were unmistakable; the artist had captured an uncanny likeness. It was Cat.

But the words in the poster were wrong.

The words were so wrong.

Cat was ‘Lady Catherine Cadogan’, not ‘Mrs. Meadows’, not ‘wanted’, not ‘smuggler, and certainly not a ‘murderer’. It wasn’t conceivable to Lily that the word ‘murder’ would have anything to do with Cat…

‘Except,’ Lily thought, ‘she had challenged a man to duel,’ What if the ‘Cat’ she knew didn’t exist? What if there were only lies, deceit, murder, and… a husband. She didn’t know how to feel she only knew it couldn’t be true.

She looked to Cat hoping for a denial or an explanation.

“I…” Cat started to say, her eyes pleaded with Lily, and Lily was so willing to listen, “I meant to tell you.”

“You meant to tell me?” Lily gasped; the shock of Cat’s admission threatened to cause her legs to give way beneath her. “It’s true?” she said dumbly. “How much else?” Lily asked. ‘How much more of you is there that I don’t know?’ she thought, ‘how much of you is false? How much of ‘you’ is real?’ but she couldn’t ask. She didn’t want to hear any more. She didn’t want to admit that the young woman who stood before her was a stranger and that the girl she had known, the girl she had… Lily couldn’t bring herself to even think of it. So quickly and so violently had her affection been torn from her that she was struggling to even breathe.

She watched as Cat was dragged away, an officer grabbing each arm and pulling her below deck. Cat didn’t resist and Lily was in too much shock to react, to protest, or even to comprehend.

“Come along, Miss,” Yates said softly, an arm guiding her toward the aftcastle, “you’ve had quite a surprise.”

He led her into the Captain’s office, an almost exact replica of the office aboard the Sea Nymph. A long wooden table was scattered with instruments and charts for navigation and would also double up in the evening for the entertainment of the officers.

Yates fetched a decanter and poured a generous amount of brandy. Lily was surprised to realise that she needed it. Her hand was trembling as she took the glass.

‘If Catherine wasn’t who she said she was, then who was she? How much was true, if anything at all?’ the thoughts rang in her mind, over and over she asked herself the same questions.

“Where will you take her?” she said finally.

“The ‘hold’ is in the lower deck. You will be safe from her while she is there.”

“And… after that?”

“She will be dealt with once we reach port.” It was Kingsley that spoke and Lily was surprised he had followed them into the Captain’s office, she hadn’t been aware of his presence looming by the door which made her even more wary of him. She couldn’t help but notice how much pleasure he had taken in revealing Cat’s secret… ‘That’s if her name really was ‘Cat’.’

“I’ve not had to deal with a murderer before,” Captain Yates admitted, as he poured a brandy for himself. Clearly, he was almost as shocked as Lily at the turn of events.

She wondered if he was lacking experience or if murderers at large on the ocean were far rarer than the sensational news stories would generally have the public believe.

“I’m finding this all very… hard to accept,” Lily said, “I… thought I knew her.”

“Deceitful,” Kingsley said, not without some satisfaction in his tone, “she fooled many of us. Although I, of course, was always aware of an air of menace about the craven little maggot but I could not have known how deeply that malevolence plunged.”

“What do we know of these crimes of which she is accused?” Yates asked.

“Only that which is on the poster. However, when I uncovered her fraud she set off a mutiny amongst the men that saw several wounded and even more dead. Including the Captain. For these crimes alone she will hang.”

“Hang?” Lily was startled.

“Of course,” the Captain added, sadly.

“You wouldn’t hang her though, surely?” Lily was in a panic, she hadn’t thought, she hadn’t made the connection between the crime and the punishment, this was all happening too fast.

“If, as Kingsley attests, she was the leader of a mutiny or even involved in a mutiny and the subsequent piracy, then the punishment is hanging. If she is also guilty of murder… then I see no alternative.”

“But…” Lily began to plead then stopped short. It would do no good. The Captain could change the law no more than she could. But if there was a chance that Cat, her Cat, was really in there somewhere, buried under layers of deceit and crime and lives she didn’t recognise… if her Cat was real, then she had to do something. “May I see her?”

The Captain was a little taken aback.

“No,” Kingsley said quickly, “I do not think that would be… fortuitous.”

Lily ignored him and looked to the Captain, doing her utmost to plead without uttering a word. Yates held her gaze for a long minute then nodded.

“I can see no danger in it.”

Chapter Forty-Seven
Clapped in Irons

Chained in the dark, Cat sat with her back to a pile of folded sailcloth and hemp, her head resting on her manacled hands.

She was exhausted.

Her life had been a mad tornado of events since that first morning on the beach. Nothing had stopped. The escape from the Revenue Men, Michael, the fishing boat to Bristol, the weeks of working aboard ship, wondering if her secret would be discovered, hoping she wouldn’t fall behind with her work, or have her rations cut, the chaos of the mutiny, the betrayal of being marooned, the whirlwind of Lily, just her and Lily, on their island…

After everything, after all her running, the past had caught up with her anyway. In the middle of the ocean, she was so far away from home but the past had still tracked her down. She could have just given herself up to the Revenue Men in Cadogan Bay and saved herself the trouble.

But then she wouldn’t have found Lily.

Cat remembered the softness of her skin, the touch of her hand…

Lily, the uptight and haughty aristocrat who had proven to be everything Cat hadn’t expected, had made all of it; the running, working the ship, the mutiny, everything was worth that one night on the island.

Everything. Except for the look on Lily’s face when she’d discovered the truth.

Cat moaned at the agony of it.

She had meant what she’d said: she had intended to tell Lily the truth. Maybe. Someday. There just hadn’t been the right moment, she hadn’t found the right way to admit she’d lied. Now she was lying to herself. Cat had never intended to tell Lily about the past because the past didn’t matter to her anymore. It wasn’t who she was.

But she was still going to have to pay for it.

Suddenly the hatch in the ceiling opened, a beam of light illuminated the wooden ladder, and a pair of bare feet, unmistakably Lily’s, began to descend. Cat scrambled to stand, the manacles were chained to a wooden post and she could only move a few feet around the small, low ceilinged storeroom. It was no better than a prison cell and she hoped that Lily’s arrival might mean she was free. That somehow Lily had convinced Kingsley and this new Captain they were wrong.

Lily turned to her, she had a small lantern and was still wearing the oversized officer’s jacket buttoned up over her shift. It seemed that all her old decorum and protocol had gone.

They stared at one another, each waiting for the other to break the silence.

“I’m sorry,” Cat said, unable to wait any longer.

“Sorry?” Lily repeated softly, she was somehow able to convey shock, sadness, disappointment, and hope all with that one little word. “You lied to me,” Lily said, her eyes bright in the lamplight, full of pain that Cat had inflicted, “about everything.”

Suddenly Cat realised just how far Lily had been betrayed, just how deep the wound had cut and just how much Lily thought had been taken away.

“No!” Cat wanted to pull everything back, hold back the flood of pain. “No, no, no! Not everything! Not everything, Lily.” Cat held out her hand, desperately hoping Lily would take it, would hold her again. She needed to know that Lily hadn’t lost faith in everything. “Please, Lily, you have to believe me!”

“How?” Lily looked defeated, her shoulders slumped, she was so tiny in the oversized jacket, her feet, bare on the hard wood, her hands pale and cold, her hair loose, uncombed, and falling about her shoulders, her eyes so dark, so big, and so betrayed. “How can I believe anything you say? All that nonsense! Forced into marriage, running away, a rich father—”

“No! No, that IS true, I just—”

“You’re a criminal, Cat, you are a criminal, and you got caught, so you ran, and you lied and now you’ve been caught again, so you are lying again,” Lily spoke with fury but her eyes were bright with tears. “I don’t even know why I came down here,” she added before turning to go.

“You’re right. I am a liar.”

Lily stopped and turned back.

Cat knew that the only chance she had now, the only way she could convince Lily was if she was honest, honest about everything.

“I lied and cheated my way out of a marriage I didn’t want. I…” Cat took a deep breath, “I lied to a boy, a boy I had known all my life, a boy I knew loved me.” She was struggling to admit things to Lily that she had never allowed herself to admit to anyone, not even herself, “I told him I loved him and wanted to marry him and- and so we eloped together and I took from him the chance to marry anyone else, someone who would have loved him. I took his chance for a real marriage with love and with children because… because I just wanted to get my own way.” Cat looked down, she had hated Tommy for seeing the truth of the sham marriage. He had been right to hate her and right to be angry at her selfishness. She struggled to continue, “I wanted to make money and to annoy my Father. He is a magistrate, and I knew that smuggling would be the one thing that hurt him most and I loved it. I loved it. And when a stupid fool of a boy betrayed me…” Cat stopped to breathe, tears were running freely down her cheeks and she knew that now was not the time for more falsehoods. “It wasn’t his fault,” she admitted, “I wasn’t careful and I didn’t believe I would get caught and because of that three men were shot dead on the beach of my home. Then the man that I had fooled into becoming my husband died to save me, and rather than admitting that I was at fault, that the blame lay squarely at my feet, rather than standing up and taking responsibility…” struggling to catch her breath, fighting back the tears that choked her, Cat fought to speak, she needed to admit her mistakes and she needed to admit them to Lily, “I killed a man out of spite.” Cat broke, her legs gave way from under her and she fell onto her hands. “I killed him,” she repeated, “he shouldn’t have been involved, it wasn’t his fault, he was just weak.”

“They’re going to hang you tomorrow,” Lily said, her voice flat.

“What? Tomorrow! I… what are we going to do?” She looked up at Lily hoping for some plan, some idea, a promise to do something but she was greeted with a face of stone. “Lily? It’s still me! You know I haven’t lied about… about us?”

“I want…” Lily said, but she struggled to look Cat in the eye, “I want to believe you but…”

“But what? Lily, please! You have to get me out, get me the key to these chains at least!”

To Cat's relief, Lily fumbled inside her jacket before pulling out her brass knife, "This is only sharp enough to cut through rope," she said, then threw it on the ground just within Cat's reach, looking at her sadly. "But it’s all I have."

Without looking at Cat again, Lily turned and headed to the ladder.

"I'm in love with you," Cat cried out after her.

Lily paused but didn't turn. She left, and the hatch closed with a soft thud taking the light, and Cat's last hope, with her.

Chapter Forty-Eight
In the Hold

Cat was awake all night.

As soon as Lily had left she’d dived on the knife and, in the dark, she had frantically picked at the catch on her manacles. Scraping and scraping the brass blade against the rusting iron lock. But although the tip would just about fit into the keyhole, it could do no good, no matter how desperate her attempts became.

Then she picked at the hard oak where the manacles were fixed to the beam, hoping she could free the chains but tired and making no headway, she eventually gave up, resting her head against the wood. Too exhausted and too filled with panic to sob.

But even if she hadn’t been kept awake by the dread of execution, the scratching and squeaking of rats rustling in the darkness would have been enough to keep her wide-eyed in fear. She hated those accursed animals. Hated chasing them around the bilge water, hated biting into food she knew had been half eaten by them already, and hated picking droppings out of anything that had rested in one place for more than a moment. But in the dark, chained to a post, hearing the blighters get closer, feeling a brush against her foot, she hated them more than ever.

She clanked and shook her chains, scaring the miscreants back into the shadows.

Cat didn’t know how many hours she had been down in the dark. She wasn’t sure if it was night or day, the same day or two days hence but as she sat in a haze of half-dozing she heard the noises of the ship above her change.

There was the running of feet, a whistle, and shouts of orders. She listened, straining her ears for the words she feared but knew were coming.

“Land Ahoy!”

The fear had twisted itself into such a tight knot in her stomach that she was almost relieved to hear it. Relieved that the waiting was over and she would now have to face whatever was out there. Be it a trial, prison, or, if Lily was true to her word, execution.

A sudden bang and a blast of light above was followed by a thundering of feet as three men came down to fetch her. Hurriedly she hid Lily’s knife in the waistband of her breeches, thinking she could still use it, she could still fight. She could take the three of them on with the knife once they freed her from the chains. She could overpower the first with surprise, toss the second overboard, and run from the third, taking advantage of surprise.

But they were on her in an instant, dragging her to her feet and unchaining her wrists and ankles. Cat was numb with fatigue and hunger, and the brightness of the light from above blinded her. She could barely see the faces of the men as they replaced the manacles with ropes and led her from the hold.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice cracked with thirst.

There was no reply just an ushering, a pulling, and a pushing as she was forced to climb the ladder.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked. Still hoping, praying to whatever saint would take mercy upon her, that there would be a way out. That Lily had worked magic, struck a deal, or even that somehow John had found her, together with Fletcher and Tommy they had infiltrated the ship above and come to her rescue.

As she was thrust up into the blinding sunlight of the main deck it took her a few moments to see the world around her.

It seemed that the whole crew was out on deck, every man standing to attention, staring at her as she stood ragged and tired. She caught sight of the man Cobham, he looked as wretched as she felt; tired, with hollow cheeks and glassy eyes. He looked away.

The ship was close to land. She could hear the familiar sound of gulls and there was an earthy scent in the air of spices and manure. Scanning the deck, she saw no sign of Lily but up above, flapping in exuberance and cheer was a bright yellow flag.

She knew that flag, she knew that every sailor aboard knew that flag, every magistrate in the land and most likely every other magistrate’s daughter would know that flag.

It was the flag of execution.

Cat remembered the last time she had been led out from the hold, she’d faced a death sentence then as well. She had faced humiliation and the lash. A tingle of memory ran across the freshly healing scar along her back. But rather than fill her with fear, the memory roused her pride.

She adjusted her shoulders and her stance, if this was to be her last walk, she would not give them the pleasure of seeing her knees buckle beneath her. She took a proud step forward, back straight and chin up; she was not ashamed.

A path cleared in front of her, crewman moved to either side of the deck for her to walk, like a paraded beast, between them and down toward the bow of the ship. The yardarm was dead ahead and, swinging slightly in the breeze, as brightly and as innocently as the yellow flag above, was a noose.

Suddenly her bound hands knocked against the knife in her waistband. She almost laughed at the thought of trying to overpower the whole crew with such a tiny blade.

But as Cat stared at her final destination, she knew there was only one way out.

Chapter Forty-Nine
Swallowed by the Sea

Lily stood with the Captain and the other officers on the quarter deck.

She held her hands in tight fists by her side to stop her incessant hand wringing. Holding herself perfectly still was the only way she could fight the desire to scream or run.

She wanted to believe that ‘Cat’ was gone, had never even existed. That she had been fooled by a criminal, a woman able to put a bullet through a man without a moment’s hesitation. She pushed away those thoughts of them together, of holding one another. She buried the memory: none of that had been real. She had almost faltered the night before when Cat was in the hold, begging for her life. But what could she have done for her then? Better to know that she was false and watch her go to the noose than believe she was true and fail to save her.

But then, when Cat was dragged onto the main deck, Lily felt her resolve rush from her.

Cat was pale. She was obviously exhausted, her shoulders were slouched, and she looked defeated. Lily wanted to cry out and tell her to look around if only to see her eyes again but it would do no good. As she watched, Cat glanced around the deck and saw the noose swinging from the yardarm at the bow of the ship. She would know it was for her and Lily didn’t want to watch, she didn’t want to see the fearless woman she had admired buckle under the realisation that her life was coming to an end. But rather than falter, Cat stood straight and steadied herself. As she did so, the crewmen seemed to part like the red sea in front of her. Not a man jeered, not a man shouted a word of abuse, all were silent. Some even bowed their head as she strode toward her fate, like a queen.

Lily baulked. Her stomach twisted in nausea and she leant forward grabbing the deck rail for support. Captain Yates was at her side immediately.

“Miss Lillian!”

“I’m just a little hot,” she lied.

She dragged her gaze from the deck, forcing herself to look up and watch the result of her own actions. A thousand ‘if only’s barraged through her mind: if only she had not set the pyre alight, if only she had forfeited that damned duel, if only she had told the crew of her plan, if only she had waited for Captain Yates, if only she had never left Bristol. Every action she had taken, everything she had done had led directly to this moment. The moment the Provost Marshal placed the noose around Cat’s neck, the rope that was to squeeze her throat until her life drained from her body.

It was too far away to hear but as she watched Lily realised that Cat was arguing with the Provost.

‘A last plea?’ Lily wondered. She knew it was an impossible plea and it was difficult to watch her beg for her life but then the Provost Marshal pulled the rope from Cat’s neck.

She had succeeded! Cat had talked her way out of the hanging!

Lily stood up straight. The knot in her stomach disappeared as she wondered what would happen next. She looked to the Captain to see confusion furrowed upon his brow and next to him Kingsley had taken a step forward with rage upon his lips. She knew Kingsley would not stand for a pardon but perhaps whatever the silver-tongued Cat had said would work on the Captain too.

But Cat wasn’t walking away. She was watching as the Provost inspected the noose. She seemed to be scolding him. Suddenly he began to untie the knot.

“What is happening?” Lily muttered.

“Some delay tactic?” Yates replied. He seemed as confused as she.

Then, to Lily’s astonishment, the Provost retied the knot and handed it to Cat. She inspected it, nodded in satisfaction, and then placed the noose around her own neck.

Lily wanted to scream at her, demand to know why she was giving in, why she wasn’t fighting, wasn’t running from the Provost, wasn’t slicing through her bonds and taking on the entire crew, fighting with everything she had.

It was only then that Lily realised she had expected Cat to find a way out, to disappear in the night, or to prove she was innocent. She had expected Cat to find a way out that she had not seen.

She hadn’t expected Cat to just die.

“Is the gun primed?” The bellow from the Captain made Lily jump in surprise.

“Aye, Cap’n,” came the shouted reply. Everything was happening so fast, Lily could hardly think.

“Is the match alight?”

Lily needed to do something. It was up to her. She was the only one who could save Cat and she had done nothing.

“All is ready, Cap’n.”

The Captain gave a nod and the gun fired with a shattering boom that echoed across the water.

Lily stepped forward. There was still time.

But as the Provost went to push Cat from the platform to her death she suddenly took a running jump.

“No!” Lily cried, too late.

Cat was gone.

The men rushed to the side of the ship as the smoke of the gun cleared.

Lily was empty. Cold, hollow, and empty inside as she waited with twisted dread for the confirmation. She imagined the sight of Cat’s lifeless body swinging from the creaking rope. She had been a fool. The purest, idle-headed fool.

Without Cat, she was nothing.

It didn’t matter if Cat had been deceitful from the start. It didn’t matter because no matter what else may be true, no matter what else had happened, Lily had fallen in love with her, and now… she was gone.

There was a commotion as the men called amongst themselves, some unable to see.

“What is happening?” The Captain bellowed.

“She’s gone, Cap’n,” the Provost replied.

“Dead, you mean?”

“Nay, sir.” He pulled up the rope, the noose was split. “Like a spirit.”

“What the Devil do you mean?” The Captain strode toward the bow, bustling through men as he went, Kingsley in quick pursuit. Lily stayed behind, in disbelief.

“I’ll take a contingent of men,” Kingsley shouted, “I shall sweep the shore and the docks, we shall have that harpy back here within the hour and I shall run my sword the strumpet’s neck afore—”

“Nay,” Captain Yates replied, glancing at Lily, “I’ve not the will to hunt down a young woman like a wild dog.”

Lily listened, frozen to the spot, running through those last few minutes in her mind trying to see how Cat had done it, how she had escaped.

“Whatever spirit intervened today,” Captain Yates went on, “we have done our duty, have we not?” he said turning to the Provost Marshal

“Aye, Captain,” the Provost replied, “She was hung by the neck even if the rope snapped she was no doubt stunned,” he looked out to the port, “her body fell into the sea where she will have drowned. The port authorities can take it from here.”

Lily’s stomach turned at the thought of Cat’s body, cold and abandoned on the seabed.

“Thank you, Provost, no doubt you are eager to get back to the harbour.” The Captain signalled the men to prepare the jolly boat and Lily overheard him as he turned to speak to his First Officer, “Let’s be away from this accursed, lawless place.”

As the crew turned to their duty, Lily walked over to the side of the ship and scanned the shore, docks, jetties, and the calm water between her and the quay. She was hoping to catch sight of a figure swimming swiftly through the water. But there was too much going on to see anything clearly. The harbour was busy with the hustle of loading and unloading a thousand cargoes. As she watched, Lily knew that even if Cat had survived the fall, even if she made it to shore in this foreign land, they would never lay eyes on one another again.

Chapter Fifty
The Boldest Bandit in the Bay

Up to her chin in filthy seawater, Cat watched from underneath a busy wooden jetty as the Herakles slowly eased its way from the port.

‘Freedom,’ she thought as the water lapped at her face and her bare feet sank into the silty mud of the harbour, ‘stinks.’

She was afraid to move from her hiding place. She knew if she was spotted emerging from the water, like some drowned beast stinking of bilge water and harbour mud, then she would be apprehended for vagrancy. She had no clue where she was in the world and above her head, mixed with the pounding of feet and the clunking of cargo being lifted and dropped, she was certain she heard a hundred languages spoken but recognised none.

She smiled, remembering her cleverness at distracting the Provost Marshal while she pulled the knife from her belt. Her imminent death had made her bold and she’d sliced clean through the rope once she’d lifted the noose over her head. The knot was still tied for all to see but the loop of the noose was broken and when she leapt from that ship there was nothing holding her back.

It had been more difficult to slice the rope of her hand ties after plunging deep into the crisp, cold seawater and she’d almost burst open her chest so long was it before she dared break the surface again.

She had thought it an unlikely plan. Cat was certain the crew would give chase and she would be surrounded by boats packed with musket bearing guards within moments. Even if she made it to land, she had expected that she would be chased across the unfamiliar country and be forced to re-live her previous escape only this time she would be alone, without food, friends, or money.

The last thing she had expected to happen was for the ship to simply leave her stranded.

From her hiding place, she was certain she had seen the distant figure of Lily looking out to the harbour. Cat wondered how much Lily hated her. She had let her down and betrayed her so deeply that she deserved nothing more than her contempt.

Cat thought back over everything that had happened. It was her own fault Luke was dead, along with Joe, Smithy, and Michael. She had murdered poor Billy and watched uselessly as Davies had plunged to the deck, only to die from his wounds. It was no wonder John and the others had abandoned her and no surprise at all that once she knew the truth, Lily had turned her back.

Cat wondered if she ought to have died at the noose. If that was all she deserved.

Dark thoughts plagued her mind all day.

Her head ached from clenching her jaw and the hot tears that occasionally defeated her resolve worsened her thirst. As the harbour slowly began to quieten, and the light faded, the fierce gnawing hunger of her empty stomach finally forced Cat out of hiding.

Quietly as she dared, her muscles numb from staying still for so long, she eased out from under the jetty and swam further out into the bay.

She glanced back to make sure there were no witnesses to her departure and, seeing that she was safe, she continued. She needed to find food, drink, and a disguise.

Her best chance for all three was to sneak aboard a ship.

There were tall ships far out in the bay and smaller cutters and jolly boats moored in the quay and taken up onto the beach. None of these were any good to her.

Cat needed to find a ship that she could easily swim to and with only a few people on board. Docked at the far side of the harbour there were several small ships, some only a quarter the size of the Herakles. Many of them had lanterns lit and, as she drew closer, she could hear carousing and revelry aboard but a few ships were dead quiet and she knew she would have to try her luck with one of those.

Soundlessly, she edged toward the stern of the nearest ship constantly checking for patrols. She reached out of the water to grab the lowest end of the rigging. As silently as she could manage, her arms aching from the pain, she hauled her body up onto the side and began to climb. She couldn’t risk going on deck, instead, she was aiming for the officers’ quarters. Many of the windows in the aftcastle had been left open, no doubt due to the heat, she hoped this didn’t mean the men were still inside.

Cat listened at the first window hoping the silence from within did indeed mean it was empty. Another glance around told her no one was watching, so she eased herself up and poked her head through the small opening. It was dark and quiet, no sound of breathing, no little candle. She was too hungry and too tired to explore any further so she wriggled through like an eel and landed on the soft bed sheets.

Cat knew that when the poor officer returned he would immediately know someone had been inside. She was wet and filthy and she would certainly leave marks and a ripe stink but hopefully, she would long be gone by the time anyone returned.

She dared not light a candle and had to blindly search through trunks and cupboards. She found hose, breeches, a shirt, jacket, and a cravat, but could find no boots, nor a hat, which meant the officer was wearing his only ones. She did, however, find a small bag of coins tucked away in a drawer and hesitated for a long moment before snatching it up. Her need was greater than his.

There was a jug of cold water and a cloth on the wash stand, so she decided to push her luck further and cleaned up as best she could. She then threw her old rags from the window and was glad to be rid of the foul stinking things.

The new clothes were loose but not absurdly so and she prayed that no one would look at an officer long enough to notice he had no boots. But she would be a spectacle if she was soaked through so she couldn’t go back into the water. She would have to risk walking across the deck and down the gangplank to the jetty.

Taking a deep breath, Cat opened the door from the officer’s quarters and crept out into the small corridor leading to the main deck. She listened for any sound and crept quietly to the next door opened it carefully and then looked out.

There was a patrolman on duty. He stood at the top of the gangplank leading to the waterfront he was guarding the ship’s cargo against whatever rogues frequented the harbour. She would never make it past him without being noticed. She tried to think what to do. She still had Lily’s brass knife tucked safely in a pocket. She could creep up behind him, slice his neck, and hold his mouth as he cried out then throw his body into the water.

Except she couldn’t.

She would be forever haunted by him, forever haunted by another man that had died at her hand. She thought of going back to the cabin, of giving up, or searching for food and hiding aboard somewhere, becoming a stowaway… Then, as if hearing her thoughts, the patrolman moved, marching off toward the bow of the ship.

Cat didn’t wait. She didn’t wait to see if there was a second patrolman or if he would swing back around. She took her chance. She marched from the aftcastle and walked straight across the deck and down the gangplank.

“Who goes there?”

Cat waved her hand dismissively but didn’t break her stride as she reached the jetty. Every muscle in her body urged her to run. But she held herself upright and marched, hoping her uniform would be enough to silence the patrolman.

She didn’t hear another call after her nor any sign of a chase.

Laughing in relief, Cat headed straight to the nearest tavern feeling as though she truly was the boldest bandit in the bay.

Chapter Fifty-One
Losing Heart

Lily was clean and dry. Her stomach was full of good food and there was the taste of good wine upon her lips. The officer’s clothes she wore were surprisingly comfortable and they allowed her a freedom she wasn’t used to. Her heavy skirts, dresses, and bodices had always held her so tightly that she’d often struggled to breathe, especially in hot weather. The shirt, breeches, and jacket were like bedclothes in comparison.

She sat with Captain Yates in his office, now a dining room for just the two of them. The officers had been relegated to the navigation room for their supper and Lily was glad for it, she hadn’t wanted any company at all. Yet the Captain had been quiet and understanding, hardly saying a word throughout dinner. He hadn’t attempted the slightest conversation and she would be forever grateful to him. Not just for his manners but she realised that he had been better to her than anyone she had known since her father.

Lily thought back to Cat. She had believed Cat was good, even now there was such a large part of her heart that truly wanted to believe Cat was a good person. But she couldn’t silence the doubt, the memory of her lies, and the truth that after all the trust Lily had put into her, she had simply been a murderer on the run.

She wanted to forgive her but didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, didn’t know if it even mattered. Didn’t even know if she was still alive.

She shook that thought away immediately. Cat was alive. Had to be alive.

But then the thought of never seeing her again was so painful that she tried to rid herself of that thought as well and to believe instead that Cat had never existed, that she had been a fabrication of a criminal who wanted only gold.

But Lily had found that too painful also.

Every which way she thought about it in her head made her miserable and she could do nothing to alter the subject in her mind.

“Kingsley has suggested we pursue the Sea Nymph,” the Captain said suddenly, forcing Lily from her reverie. “He wishes to chase them down and put to justice every single mutineer and pirate aboard.” Yates smiled ruefully, shaking his head as if he thought the notion to be the very definition of foolishness.

Lily thought about her father’s gold. She had a ship now, a good Captain, and a loyal crew. She realised that although she had been somewhat distracted by recent events, her circumstances had not changed. She was still destitute. She had nowhere to live, no home, and no good way of earning money. Her father’s gold was hers by right and if there was enough to make her life comfortable then she ought to pursue it.

“Perhaps there is some merit to his plan,” she said.

Yates seemed surprised, “I have already explained to Master Kingsley,” he replied, “that we will not be pursuing the Sea Nymph.”

Lily was confused; why would Captain Yates bring forth this discussion only to dismiss it immediately?

“If we go after the ship,” she argued, “we can not only put that crew to justice but I can also find my… cargo.”

“You mean your father’s treasure?”

She was shocked. She had never mentioned anything to Captain Yates about treasure or her father’s involvement in her mission. She opened her mouth, about to feign ignorance.

“Master Kingsley informed me of your true goal.”

“Oh,” Lily replied, still a little confused.

“I feel that without your map and without the code book then we are at a loss as to find the island they were heading toward.”

“But I know the location,” Lily pleaded, “I could find it on your charts I could take us there without the map, I know that map, I have studied that map and code book nearly every day since I left England, I know I could get us there.”

“And then?” Yates asked with a shrug.

“I…” Lily stumbled, “well… we could capture the other ship then fetch the hoard—”

“It’s that easy, is it?” He smiled at her, she knew he was patronising her but she also realised how absurd she sounded. “I am not willing to risk the lives of my crewman in a sea battle with pirates. This is a merchant ship, these men have signed up to carry cargo, not to chase down the fantasy of treasure, and face death in the adventure of it.”

“The gold isn’t a fantasy,” although Lily was starting to realise it might be.

“I owe my men more,” he said, and Lily knew he was right. So many had died already for her voyage that she could not justify further bloodshed. “I owe you more as well.”

Lily looked at him, startled. “You owe me nothing,” she replied, firmly.

He shook his head and spoke softly, “The moment…” he struggled, “Do you…” he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, then stood suddenly and turned his back to her. She wondered what he was getting at, then he took a deep breath and turned to her.

“I have been able to think of no one else but you since we met in that coffee house in Bristol.” He spoke quickly as though he wanted to get all of his words out before she could stop him or he could change his mind, “I believe, I really do believe that it was fate that brought us back together—”

“It was hardly fate, Captain. I told you I was headed to St Thomas.”

“Well, even so, I missed a chance before and I do not intend to miss that chance again… the lives we have, Miss Lillian, the lives we have are so fleeting that we ought to live them to the fullest, do you not think?”

She nodded blankly, having no words to say.

“I want to keep you safe, I want to get you away from mutineers, and murdering pirates, I wish to see you safely back to England. Back to where you can live out your life quietly with no need for all this treasure hunting. I’m not a rich man but I am not a poor one either and I would see to it that you would want for nothing, you have my word on that.”

Lily closed her eyes. Her world was being spun in so many directions she felt dizzy with it all.

“Would you do me the honour of becoming my—”

“Don’t say it,” she said, holding up a hand to prevent him going further.

“I… I understand.” He nodded and turned from her then reached out to pour another brandy.

Heartbroken and exhausted, Lily looked down at herself. She had been deserted a hundred times over and then lost at sea. She was unkempt, unwashed, and wearing ill-fitting men’s clothes without even a dress to call her own. She was utterly alone and had absolutely nothing to her name. Yet this kind and gentle man still saw something in her he could love.

She sighed deeply and wondered if perhaps the right choice was the simplest one.

Then the door burst open.

Chapter Fifty-Two
A Desperate Plan

The tavern was overflowing with people. Many had spilled out onto the street and were drinking, dancing, sleeping, vomiting, and one man was even playing a fiddle. Cat was impressed that he was managing a tune despite struggling to stand upright. The inside of the tavern was no calmer; men who’d not seen land or women for weeks were free for the first time and had money to spend. They were rowdy and some clambered on the rustic furniture or danced a jig on the hard earth floor.

But Cat had only one thing on her mind. She rummaged in her pockets for the stolen purse and quickly checked to see how much she had. A dozen gold pieces shone guilt-fully at her from the cloth. At once delighted and ashamed, Cat knew this must be the carefully concealed savings of the officer whose clothes she wore. But her parched throat and whining stomach reminded her of what she was here for.

She pushed her way through the hustle of patrons toward the bar where a buxom tapster, heavily made-up and with a ready smile, greeted her with a wink.

“What’ll it be?” she asked and Cat was surprised to hear the familiar West-Country accent of home.

“Food and drink,” she said holding out a gold coin.

“What’s yer fancy?”

“Whatever is good.” The woman nodded then disappeared and Cat slid onto a stool and waited impatiently, tapping at the bar until a steaming bowl of stew arrived with a mug of ale. She handed over the coin without looking up and set about devouring the glorious food. She was halfway through a third bowl before she even began to slow down.

It was only then that she began to wonder what in hell she was going to do. She realised that for the first time in her life she was completely free from obligation. No father, no husband, no Quartermaster to bark orders, gold in her pocket to feed and clothe her; she was free.

Yet all she wanted to do was find her way back to that damned ship. She finished her fourth weak ale and shook her head in consternation. She was a fool. Here she had the real chance to live a life that was truly her own and she wanted to chase Lily and get back what she had lost. She didn’t know what would happen after or how they might live their life. But it didn’t matter. Her pain was like a curse. A beautiful, terrible curse.

Cat could think of a hundred and a dozen things she could do with a free life, a new name, and a pocket of gold, but it didn’t matter.

She would be hollow.

All that mattered was finding her, winning her back, proving her love, and making herself whole again.

But the Herakles was gone.

Lily could only have been heading to one place. Her father’s treasure was all she had and even if the Kraken, or the Sea Nymph or whatever that damned boat was called, had reached it first, Cat was now the only person apart from Lily who knew how to reach the hiding place.

‘But how to get there?’ she wondered.

She looked around at the half drunk and drinking sailors, many of whom she was sure were pirates. But most would know these waters and they would be familiar with the islands. She just had to find a sailor that knew of the one she was looking for.

She called over the barmaid, “I need some parchment, or cloth and… some charcoal.”

The woman eyed her curiously.

“What you up to?” she asked.

“I’m going to draw a treasure map.”

The tapster laughed and disappeared, re-emerging a moment later with an old white cloth and a few pieces of charcoal. Cat closed her eyes, in her mind’s eye she could clearly see the unique outline of the island. She had stared at that map and traced the outline with her hand, and she was sure she could replicate it.

She drew a light sketch of the curved bay, the jagged edges of the north and east coasts, and the strange little inlet on the south side. It was rough but it would do.

“Are there any regulars in? Sailors who know the islands of these waters well?”

The barmaid looked about. “There’s not many I’d trust with a young lad such as yerself,” she said with a warning look.

Cat smiled, she had almost forgotten how easy it was to be mistook for a lad, “I can fend for myself well enough,” she replied.

“Them’s two are harmless enough,” she said, pointing to a couple of ruffians laughing at a corner table. A fat, bearded man with a girl on his lap and a thinner man with long dirty, blond hair, drinking ale, “but watch yerself, mind.”

Cat nodded feeling confident. Her belly was full of food, and her pocket full of coin. She may not have any boots on her feet but she had the beginnings of a plan and she was damned well going to see it through.

She walked over to the corner table and sat down without introduction.

“Who invited you?” the blond man snarled over his drink.

“I need your help,” she said simply.

“Lost yer mammy, ‘ave ya? Ya bootless measle?” The fat one laughed and the other joined in.

“I need to find an island,” she held out the cloth, “do you recognise the outline?”

She realised the fatter man had a single, gnarled brown tooth in the middle of his lower gums, his other front teeth seemed to have gone the same way as his hairline. He threw the girl off his lap and held Cat’s cloth up to the lantern, unable to resist the puzzle while the other man chugged back the last of his ale and slopped the empty tankard on the table.

“Looks like Pirate Island…” snaggle-tooth muttered to himself.

“He’ll tell ya for another round,” the blond said.

Cat nodded and went to the bar for three ales. When she came back the men were in deep discussion, pointing to different sections of her outline.

“Why d’ya need to reach this land, what’s in it for yer?” the fat, snaggle-tooth asked.

Cat stopped and considered the men. They were not about to help her out of the kindness of their hearts, in fact, she was certain they would betray her at the first opportunity. But if she was going to use this gold to get to Lily she was going to need help. The two ruffians together would overpower her easily and so Cat decided that the only way she could possibly take advantage of them was to make sure they believed they were taking advantage of her.

“I heard there is gold,” she said, gauging their response.

The blond one laughed, but snaggle-tooth seemed angry. He slammed the crude map on the table. “Aye,” he said, “we all ‘eard that about Pirate Island.”

“I heard that an old Privateer hoarded it to avoid the King’s tax but now he’s dead, so it’s just there for the taking.” She chugged back some of her ale, attempting to appear nonchalant but for the first time, she was beginning to wonder if the hoard had already been plundered.

“There ain’t no sailor in the Spanish Main that ain’t gone looking for the treasure on Pirate Island.” The blond man shook his head with a laugh and chugged his fresh tankard of ale.

“I know where it’s hid,” Cat said, as casually as she could muster but desperately hoping this would be enough to sway them, “I know the route from that bay,” she pointed to the inlet on her own drawing, “to the secret cave where he stored it, and I know it is still there waiting for him to come back and fetch it. Only now it don’t seem so likely that he’ll be visiting. Course, if you don’t want in…” she reached forward to take back the cloth but the snaggle-tooth snatched it out of her grasp and she knew that she had him in her net.

“I never said I didn’t want nuthin’ just that it’s like be tricky, is all,”

“Oh, come on Drew, how’s we even s’posed to get there?” said the blond, looking around impatiently for another girl.

“We split it even, right?” The fat one, Drew, said looking at her, she struggled to avoid looking at his brown snaggle-tooth.

“Three ways,” she nodded.

“Nay,” Drew said ferociously, “half and half!”

“You berk,” the gangly one interrupted, “that means she’d get more,”

“Oh!” He nodded, feigning understanding, “Aye, three ways it is.”

“Why we sharing gold what we can’t get, you joit-head! How we supposed to get to the island?”

Drew tapped his nose and grinned, but the blond man was having none of it, “I don’t want no nose tapping, I’m stayin’ right here with these wenches or I’m knowing what’s spinnin’ through that ugly mug o’ yours,”

“The Blackbird,” he replied.

Chapter Fifty-Three
Fresh Mutiny

Kingsley stood, pistol in one hand, sword in the other, and flanked by two men. The first man Lily knew as Glenister, the boatswain from the Sea Nymph, but the second was a man from the Herakles whose name Lily had not yet learnt. She was surprised to see they were all armed and she wondered if the ship was under attack.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Yates demanded.

“I insist,” Kingsley said, “that we change course immediately to intercept my ship and put those damned pirates to justice once and for all!”

“To Justice!” his two crewmen bellowed in support.

The Captain smiled. “I am impressed by your commitment to your duty as Quartermaster and believe me when I say I will be putting this in a letter of recommendation for a new post.” Lily could tell he was irritated but he made no outward display of it, “However, you must accept that the Sea Nymph is gone. We have informed the British authorities at St Thomas that it has been taken by pirates and it is now for the Royal Navy to deal with. We have done our duty, Sir.”

Kingsley shook his head in anger and frustration, “If you do not go after the Sea Nymph,” Kingsley said stepping forward, “then I have no choice but to take command of this ship as you are clearly unfit for the position of Captain.”

Lily was shocked and went to interrupt but suddenly Kingsley turned his blade to her. With the tip of the sword just inches from her throat Lily silenced the thought that had nearly made it to her lips. She’d known Kingsley to be fierce but had never expected such an outward display of sheer rebellion. He was committing the very act of piracy he was so determined to put to justice.

The affable smile disappeared from the Captain’s lips. “I am willing to overlook your behaviour, as I understand that you have been through an ordeal. Those days at sea in the launch boat must have been unimaginable. However, we simply have no clue as to the heading of the Sea Nymph,” Lily was impressed by Yates’ calm reasoning, “and there is none aboard who knows the location of this mysterious island to which you claim they were headed.”

The Captain was firm but Lily could tell that his calm exterior was being severely tested.

Kingsley looked down at Lily. “You know.”

“I—” Lily tried to stammer a reply.

“She certainly does not know, Master Kingsley. And what’s more, she is not to be threatened. If you insist on this campaign of intimidation, then I will have no choice but to call my men and have you taken to the hold!”

“You have no men.”

“What?”

“The men are mine. You are alone. But I am giving you a chance, Yates, you are with me or you are against me.”

“I am certainly not with you,” he said, drawing his sword.

The bang reverberated around the room and it took a moment for Lily to grasp what had happened. Captain Yates staggered backwards, falling onto the sideboard, and looking up at Kingsley in confusion.

Without thinking, Lily rushed over to him as he fell to the floor. He held his hand out to her and tried to speak. But, instead of words, he coughed up blood and the gaping pistol wound on his chest seeped out onto his shirt and jacket.

“Frederick!” Lily cried, but his hand fell to the floor and his body went limp. A sob of shock and sorrow escaped from her before she was grabbed by her arm and hauled to her feet. But she couldn’t pull her gaze from the dark, dead eyes of Captain Yates.

Kingsley grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. “You will take me to that damned island, do you hear?” Defiantly, Lily tried to pull her chin from his claw-like grasp, but his hold only became stronger. “Do you hear?” he repeated.

“I will never do as you ask.”

He threw her against the wall. Then slapped her hard her across the cheek with the back of his hand. “I am not asking,” he growled, “you will take us to this island or I will let every man aboard this ship have his way with you until you do.”

Glenister glanced at his brother-in-arms and they grinned conspiratorially behind Kingsley.

“How could you—”

“It would be no more than you deserve,” he said moving closer. Then, his face mere inches from hers, he added with a whisper, “Your mother was a whore and your sister was a whore. What makes you any better?”

Lily looked up at him startled. How did he know that? How could he know? There was no one aboard that could have told him where she was from, who her family were. He couldn’t have discovered the truth. But why would he say those things unless he knew them to be true? Unless he knew of her mother and her sister. But who aboard could have discovered her bitter secret? Who could have told him?

Kingsley laughed at her. “Leave,” he said turning to the Boatswain who nodded and the two men turned from the room and closed the door.

Leaving Lily alone with the Quartermaster.

“Take a seat,” he said, a note of courtesy in his tone. She didn’t move. “Take a seat!” he shouted.

Hardly able to breathe, Lily was forced to step over the sprawled body of Captain Yates to get back to her chair. She knew that Kingsley would be true to his word and she was desperately trying to look for a weapon with which she might defend herself from such advances.

“I have put everything into this accursed voyage,” Kingsley said, and Lily wondered what he meant, “ever since your whore of a sister told me of her father’s gold I have done nothing but think of discovering it.”

Lily stared at him, her mouth agape. He’d known Hazel. He had known her sister. Suddenly she began to understand why this man had been so determined. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place and she knew why he had been there just when she needed him, why he had been so willing to help her, why he knew things he shouldn’t have done, and, she cursed herself for not having seen it at the time, why he was so swiftly able to pronounce her damned name.

“I was willing to share it with Hazel,” he continued, sounding almost reasonable, “I was even willing to pay her a stipend, whatever that damnable strumpet wanted to keep her in gin. But that bitch was stubborn. She wouldn’t ask you for the code book, said you were conceited, arrogant, thought yourself too good to have anything to do with her.” Suddenly Kingsley laughed, “she was right about that, wasn’t she?”

The truth of his words stung and fresh shame nagged at her for her pride.

“So, she had to go,” Kingsley finished.

“To go? ...” It didn’t seem possible, even now, even with the body of the Captain at her feet she hadn’t thought… “Did… Did you kill my sister?”

“It was simple enough,” he shrugged as if it had been a mere trifle, a minor errand not worth a thought, “a whore like that, a drunk that no one cared for; no one thought much of her getting sick.” He chuckled darkly, “Even when she told them all she was being poisoned that cheap doctor said the sickness had addled her mind.” Kingsley laughed.

Lily’s fingers dug into the arms of her chair and she thought she might be sick.

“When she finally succumbed, her little tribe of harpies were glad of the extra coin and I took the map. It only cost a few shillings slipped into the pocket of that whelp of a clerk, to get the map to you and lead you to believe that it had been left to you in her will. As if that half-witted strumpet ever made a will!” He laughed, obviously enjoying the opportunity to finally reveal his cunning, “That was particularly nimble-minded of me, sending it to you just as you were desperate enough to do something so utterly artless.” Kingsley paused for a moment, sheathing his sword and pouring himself a glass of the Captain’s brandy. “That drunken fool, Brindle, hadn’t had a decent commission in years. There was little difficulty in convincing him and complementing our crew with anyone who didn’t ask questions.” He looked grim for a moment, “Of course that did cause its own problems.” He was quiet for a moment before turning to her, glass in hand, “So, you see, Miss Exquemelin, I really have gone to a lot of… effort to retrieve this fortune and I intend to complete my mission.” He appeared calm as if he were making no more than a modest business proposal, “If you hinder me in the slightest I shall find ever new ways to cause you fresh miseries that you had never conceived possible. So, I suggest, madam, you acquiesce to my request.” He took a sip of the dead man’s brandy. “What say you?”

PART VI: PIRATE ISLAND

Chapter Fifty-Four
Pirate Trial

Fletcher Greaves’ toes barely reached the ground.

His arms were pulled above his head and tied by a rope to a branch of the tall tree over-hanging the clearing.

It was a hot day, made all the hotter by the humidity of the forest, noisy with the calls of animals, birds, and restless pirates. Fletcher was drunk with fatigue and thirst but he was trying to keep a clear head and focus on the proceedings around him.

Captain Hood sat in the fork of a tree overlooking Fletcher like a judge. Other crewmen had gathered sticks, muskets, and swords, surrounding Fletcher in the guises of court ushers taking great joy in mocking legal procedures that some of them knew well.

“What sayest thou?” Hood repeated.

Fletcher’s mind raced.

Over the last few days, they had scoured what seemed like every inch of shoreline, every crevice, every patch of land underneath where the cross lay on that infernal map. They had spent hours going over and over the notes in the codebook, only Fletcher and Hood could read and tried in vain to discern what had been missed.

But they found nothing.

The men became impatient. They were running out of supplies, they were hungry, and they were restless. They needed someone to blame.

That someone, was Fletcher.

“P’rhaps,” Fletcher said, struggling to speak through the pain of his tied arms and with his parched throat, “we could go back for Miss Lillian—”

A roar of dissent silenced him; they were long bored of treasure hunting, these men wanted only blood.

“Tis not such a fool plan,” John stepped forward pleading with Hood. He had been devastated to leave Cat behind, he had argued and fought, eventually being confined to the hold until he ceased his raging.

“Leave those sluts where they are!” one man called.

“Aye,” said that cocky miscreant Parsons. Fletcher squarely blamed that lewd fool for Cat’s abandonment but he was quickly becoming a man to be reckoned with, “we can find other whores!” Parsons laughed and many of the crewmen joined in.

“Not without gold you can’t,” Fletcher replied, “and they know where it’s hid, I’m certain of it.”

“As certain as you were of the map?” Hood asked, his words were infrequent but devastating. Fletcher had let him down badly and he knew he would have to pay for it. He hadn’t wanted to abandon Cat but Hood had pointed out she was more trouble than she was worth and Fletcher had agreed.

If there was one thing he had always known, it was that Catherine Meadows was trouble. He knew it the moment she had appeared in the smuggling ring, she was beautiful, intelligent, and completely fearless. A deadly combination. He should have known to keep away from her but Fletcher Greaves had never been one to keep away from trouble. Especially when it earned him good money.

But if there was one thing Cat was better at than getting into trouble, it was getting out of it. As Fletcher swung painfully from the branches of the tree, surrounded by men who wanted him dead, he realised that he really could have done with her help in that moment.

“Why not go back?” Tommy stood next to John, Fletcher had been surprised at Tommy’s loyalty to Cat. He had seemed to hate her and yet once she was gone he could do nothing but plead for her safe return at every opportunity. “We gain naught by standin’ ‘ere all day! Let’s fetch the girls and get this damned treasure!” he shouted, “Then we could buy ourselves a Letter of Marque, become free men and privateers!”

Tommy was mocked, most of what he said was jeered at by the crew, who erupted at his suggestions. It took a long while for Hood to calm them once again and restore a semblance of order.

“This ain’t about gold no more,” Hood said, staring fiercely at Fletcher, his brow wet with perspiration, “It’s about loyalty,” a few men cheered the word and Fletcher started to panic, unsure what Captain Hood was getting at, “and you have been most disloyal.”

“Hear! Hear!” Parson’s shouted and a few men followed his lead.

“By the power invested in me,” Hood said with a tremendous sense of ceremony, “I hereby sentence thee, Fletcher Greaves, to death.”

The pirates cheered. But their cheers were immediately drowned out by the sound of cannon fire ricocheting around the cliffs of the bay. All eyes turned to the sea and they watched in horror as a ship that seemed to have appeared from nowhere, opened fire on the completely defenceless Kraken.

Parsons called out, before turning and running into the forest, the men stumbled about, dropping their weapons and fumbling to grab them again before following him into the trees.

“John!” Fletcher called, but he was already there, pulling at the knot. Tommy grabbed Fletcher by the waist, lifting him to ease the strain on the ropes for John to untie him. But as Fletcher looked out over the water he could see launch boats already landing at the beach.

“Hood!” Fletcher called, the Captain was scrambling, half-drunk down from the tree, “Come on, Man, don’t leave me here!”

The Captain, awkwardly gaining his footing, looked old and tired. He hesitated for a moment, looking to the forest where Parsons had led the crew. Fletcher could see uniformed men making their way up the beach. John was still fumbling with the knots, his bare hands awkward and arthritic.

But then Hood drew his sword and marched over to Fletcher, he swung the blade wide above his head and slashed through the rope. Fletcher fell to the ground and landed in an awkward heap of thankfulness before stumbling to his feet.

But it was too late.

Already surrounding the clearing, two dozen men at arms by his side, Kingsley grinned at Hood, Tommy, John and Fletcher.

“I think, Gentlemen, I seem to have caught you at a bad time.”

Chapter Fifty-Five
Ships’ Landing

Cat snapped the spyglass shut with a smile.

Both ships were there; the Herakles and the Kraken sat in the bay oblivious to her fast approach. She guessed that the fine young Captain of the Herakles had decided to capture the pirates before he went after the treasure. She would have a head start and, once she found it, she would have the upper hand.

“There’s ships there already! You never said nowt about more ships,” the dirty-blond haired man, Caleb, was far more jittery than his fat, snaggle-toothed friend, Drew.

“All part of the plan,” she said, lying calmly. She still had no idea what her plan was beyond ‘get the treasure, then get to Lily’. “Further to port, Drew,” she ordered her new helmsman, “We need to head for the south side of the island.” He nodded, but it was Caleb who wouldn’t give in.

“So, what’s the plan then?” he demanded, “Who are those buggers?” Cat waved her hand dismissively and he spat on the deck, “Drew, can you believe this?” He marched off, sulking.

The two sailors had been both mad and clever in getting her a ship, the Blackbird. It was a small ship, only two masts, and at barely more than a hundred feet long it was one of the smallest ships Cat had ever encountered. Drew told her it had a crew of sixty but Cat couldn’t comprehend how sixty men had been able to fit aboard the damned thing and thought the Sea Nymph had been luxurious in comparison.

Caleb had discovered a few days before that the crew were in the town gaol on suspicion of piracy and that overnight the ship was guarded by just one man who could be tempted away with a strong drink.

The three of them had been able to stroll aboard, set their lines, and take the ship without so much as a shout from a passer-by.

Once onboard Cat had little choice but to trust the two men to navigate the stars and find the island, while she took to a cabin and slept. She slept for thirteen hours straight and the sun was high by the time she emerged on deck feeling alive for the first time in months.

They skirted around to the far side of the island. Cat had taken a risk by putting the Blackbird in full view of the Kraken and Herakles but she had to be sure they were both there. She had to be sure this was the right place and she just had to hope that everyone would be far too interested in chasing one another to notice her sneaking in and taking the gold from under their noses.

She smiled as she thought of them finding empty an treasure chest. She would seek out Lily and hand the whole lot over to her, proving that she was never after the gold. Then if she could find a way to take down Kingsley and Hood while she was at it, all to the better.

With just three of them manning the ship, it took a little longer to bring it to a halt and drop anchor. Cat was glad the journey had been a short one and she was glad of her weeks of experience aboard the Sea Nymph.

“Now what?” Drew said, standing alongside Cat and looking out at the jungle. His voice was low as if they might be overheard and, staring out at the unfamiliar trees, listening to the sounds of unfamiliar beasts and birds, wondering who or what looked down upon them from the island, Cat could understand his trepidation.

“We explore,” she said.

Chapter Fifty-Six
Tea for Two

Lily was having tea.

She had been taken back to her rooms aboard the old Sea Nymph so that she might wash and change and then, once she was properly attired according to Kingsley, she was taken to shore.

A table, two chairs, and parasol had been brought to the beach and Kingsley, who in spite of the heat was still in his full uniform, was pouring fresh hot tea into a dainty cup and Glenister, doing an admirable impression of a butler, was serving brandy cakes.

The whole affair disquieted Lily, making her even more nervous of Kingsley’s intentions. It was as if the heat was addling his brain.

Kingsley had been delighted with his victory. He had taken the Sea Nymph with ease. Although he was not impressed that they had painted over the name of the ship with the gaudy lettering of a penny theatre and replaced a good solid ship’s name with the foolish piratical: ‘Kraken’.

His boarding party had taken the ship without obstacle and much of the pirate crew was now confined to the hold after having rounded them up on the beach. There were still a few pirates unaccounted for and Kingsley had the Herakles crew out combing the forest nearest the beach trying to find them. So far with little success.

As Lily half listened, almost drowning in the stagnant heat, he was talking about having a trial for every last pirate and the sound of hammering echoed around the bay as two men put together rudimentary gallows, indicating the sentences Kingsley had already made up his mind to dispense.

“I’m a reasonable man,” Kingsley said and Lily almost laughed at the absurdity of such a statement, “and I have no intention of killing you.” She looked up at him, waiting to discover where this conversation was leading. “So long as you comply with my wishes.” He produced her map and codebook, clearing a space so he could lay both on the table, “these pirates have searched day and night for the gold. I know it is hidden. I know you know where it is.” He leant forward, his breath was stale, and she could smell his sweat, she tried not to recoil in disgust, “take me to it, and you will live.”

He leant back and took up his tea, sipping it as though they were in an English country garden.

Lily picked up her map and unfolded it, trying to appear as if she were studying it. But instead, she was thinking, hard.

She was surrounded on two sides by dense forest. Behind her was the sea, two ships anchored, one imprisoned crew of pirates led by Captain Hood, another led by Kingsley, and hidden all over the island were hungry desperate men out for only themselves.

Lily didn’t know in which direction the most danger lay.

She could run into the forest and conceal herself but she might only last a few hours before running into pirates or a deadly animal.

She could make a bid for the Sea Nymph, try to release the other crew. But there was no way of knowing if they would treat her any better than Kingsley, it was Hood, after all, who had left her to die on a stretch of sand in the middle of the ocean.

There was also the option of simply taking Kingsley straight to the site of the treasure. The path started at the end of the inlet leading through the island from the south side, it wouldn’t take long to find it, climb to the top of the mountain and discover the secret cave.

But she did not, for one moment, believe that Kingsley intended to keep her alive once he reached his goal.

He was a murderer, he had murdered her sister, he had murdered Captain Yates, and Lily had no doubt that he would murder again. When her usefulness ran out he would soon cast her aside and the only thing she could hope was that it would be a quick death.

All Lily could think of to do was to delay Kingsley for as long as possible and hope that some solution eventually presented itself to her.

“I believe I can help you,” Lily said, folding the map again as if she had just now discovered the location, and Kingsley nodded in satisfaction.

Not for the first time, Lily’s thoughts drifted to Cat. She longed for her resourcefulness and sheer determination. She felt certain that if Cat were there on the island with her, she would already be enacting some wild plan to save them all. That woman had a defiant spirit, it was the very thing Lily was drawn to and no doubt the reason Cat might still be alive somewhere.

Lily missed her and hoped that wherever she was, it was far, far away from this.

Chapter Fifty-Seven
Sea Cave

It took hours to make any headway up the hill.

It was a steep incline and although there was a well-worn path it was difficult to follow due to many years of neglect. They were forced to cut their way through thick vines and long grasses.

The two men bickered constantly. Complaining of aches, pains, the heat, and the strength of the vines they had to cut. All the time convincing one another the expedition was for naught.

Many a time Cat was forced to point out that the presence of the other ships proved there was something here of value and when this no longer convinced them she said the path proved the map was true. But it was only Cat’s obvious determination to reach the top that kept the two of them going.

Finally, after many hot hours of walking, they threatened to leave her there.

Cat looked at them both, one after the other then shrugged her shoulders and turned back to cutting the path through the thick forest.

She didn’t need them.

They stood watching her for a while as she disappeared further up the track.

“The lad seems to think there’s something in it,” Drew said.

“Aye, but he’s mad. I say we go.”

“You are always sayin’ we go. You’re soft, happy in yer mammy’s skirts if she’d have yer.”

“Don’t you say nuthin about my mammy!” Caleb shouted.

“I’ve found it!” Cat called over their argument. They both turned to where she had disappeared up the steep slope and took off at a run after her.

Cat was standing outside the mouth of a crack in the mountain. They could see it lead down into the mountain for a few paces but beyond that point the light could no longer reach.

“Your torch,” Cat said, holding her hand out to Drew, the snaggle-tooth. Still open-mouthed in awe at their discovery, he took off his pack and dug around for matches, lighting their three torches so they could enter the cave.

For several hundred yards the path led downwards, undoing all their hard work of the climb. Then suddenly, as they turned a sharp corner, they were met with a wall of rock. The cave had come to an end.

Cat cursed.

“See, there’s naught in it!” Caleb threw up his free hand in anger, “I climbed all this way, with a bad knee for his damned menace of nuthin.”

“Look,” Drew said, pointing to a shadow on the floor near the wall. Cat walked over carefully. There was a hole, a part of the cave that led further down. But there was no way to walk it.

“You’ll have to lower me with a rope,” Cat said. The two men looked at one another.

“Rather you than me,” Caleb replied.

Cat dropped her torch into the hole and watched the light fall for a few seconds before it came to a rest on a heap of sand in what looked like another small cave. Cat knew they wouldn’t follow her down this tunnel. Wherever it led, she would be on her own.

With a rope tied in a loop for her foot and two large hessian sacks in hope of finding something worth her time, the lads lowered her down. Slow at first, their pace became faster as they grew tired and she shouted words of encouragement up to them, if for no more reason than she wanted to live through the journey.

The tunnel was narrow all the way down, no more than a crevice. Some of the wall was smooth but much of it was made up of uneven ridges. She imagined being stuck in there forever and the walls began to feel more like a tomb.

She wondered if this search for the gold was worth it. If she shouldn’t simply have gone after Lily, perhaps told the lads there was gold on the ships. But she knew there was no way to overpower all those pirates and buccaneers. With the treasure, she might have some bargaining power. She had to go on.

Finally, she reached close enough to the bottom that she called out to the lads, then let go of the rope and jumped the last few feet to the soft sand beneath.

The torch was starting to die out and she picked it up quickly then looked around the cave. It was empty and small ‘just big enough for a grave’ she thought. Cat began to panic. It was another dead end and now she was trapped down this hole. The path had been there, the cave had been there, but now it looked as though the treasure had already gone.

There was nothing in the darkness. She felt around the walls but they were solid: no gaps.

She could hear the voices of the two men calling down to her, asking what she saw, asking about the treasure and she wasn’t sure they would pull her up without it. They might just leave her there.

But then she stepped in a puddle. Cat looked down, hoping the water wasn’t rising, but she realised she must have climbed all they way back down to the waterline; it was seawater lapping at the edge of the sand.

She crouched down and saw a small tunnel leading further on into the darkness, just big enough to crawl through.

“You got it or what?” The words echoed down to her, sounding haunted and unholy.

“There’s a tunnel!” she called up. “I might be a while.”

Cat took a breath. It was already getting hot. The tunnel was too narrow and too tight and now it was about to get far worse. She wasn’t even certain this was the right way, she wasn’t certain that it would even lead anywhere, it might just get narrower and narrower until she could no longer move. She pushed those thoughts from her mind and focused on finding this damned treasure. ‘One step at a time’ she told herself.

Crouching down, she moved forward into the water and to her relief, the seafloor rapidly fell away and she could stand, chest height, in the pool. Holding the torch high and hoping the tunnel would open out, Cat edged along unable to see further than a yard as the tunnel twisted this way and that. She was careful not to move too quickly lest the seabed fall away from her and she was conscious that the water was getting gradually deeper and deeper.

She could no longer hear Drew and Caleb, she was totally alone deep in the bowels of the mountain.

Then, without warning, Cat gasped as the tunnel opened out into a vast cavern.

Sunlight poured in from a narrow fissure in the cavern wall. She could see the jagged rocks outside and hear the sea crashing against them as the sound echoed around the great flooded cave.

In the centre, piled high on an island of rocks, was what looked like a heap of crates but as Cat edged closer she saw clearly that they were treasure chests. Piles of old sea chests, far more than she could ever begin to carry out of the cavern in her two hessian sacks.

Delighted, she crashed through the water and clambered up on the little island easily breaking the rusty old locks with a stone.

Cat laughed as the gold glinted at her. More than she could have imagined. Gold coins and jewellery with stones of every colour, pearls, rubies, sapphires, even an engraved sword still glinting when she drew it from its scabbard.

Cat had no intention of taking all of this back to the men waiting for her but as she glanced across at the sunbeams glinting on the water, she had the beginnings of a brand-new plan.

Chapter Fifty-Eight
Treasure Hunt

“Someone has been here,” Kingsley said, examining the cut vines on the path.

It was humid and Lily was starting to feel faint with the warmth and weight of her many layers of clothes. Her wide-brimmed hat did nothing, it only added to the discomfort. She was light-headed, sweating, and felt sick with the heat. She wanted to delay if only so she could sit down but each time she tried Kingsley pulled her to her feet and demanded she take them further.

Lily wanted to take the longest route possible and delay the inevitable moment when they would find her father’s gold, and Kingsley would no longer have need of her. However, she was so exhausted with the walk that she was beginning to regret her decision.

They had finally cut through the jungle forest to the centre of the island and discovered the track but it seemed that the missing pirates had reached the path first.

Lily wasn’t sure how the pirates had found it. Whether it was dumb luck or she had overlooked something on the map. Perhaps she had left an important clue behind and they were all on their way into an ambush. She could only guess.

Although Kingsley had made sure to take a contingent of a dozen loyal men with him, all heavily armed, he still appeared to be anxious about the missing pirates. Not knowing where they were or what they were capable of concerned Lily as well. She wasn’t sure if the men from the Kraken would be her enemy or her friend.

There was no reason to believe that they would treat her any differently to Kingsley. She remembered Captain Hood and how he had so calmly murdered the officers and taken control of the Sea Nymph. Now he was locked in the hold she was frightened of what the rest of his men would do.

She thought she would have more time. She thought she could lead them all aimlessly through the jungle for hours until Kingsley would call it a day and return to the ship. She had wanted to buy herself time and try to think herself out of the mess she was in.

But discovering that the path to the mountain cave had already been cut by someone else was a blow that she had not been prepared for.

Lily sat down on a fallen tree. She needed a moment to breathe and she was glad that, for once, Kingsley seemed to be ignoring her.

He barked orders to his men, ensuring they surrounded him on all sides and had primed their muskets and pistols. He clearly wasn’t willing to take any chances.

As Kingsley walked over to her he was suddenly pulled aside by Glenister, who for once in his life had a look of concern rather than contempt.

“I kin feel the eyes on me back, Cap’n,” he whispered in his thick Glaswegian.

“Aye man, I feel it too. They’re following us. Be ready.”

Glenister nodded to Kingsley who then motioned Lily to stand. She did so, knowing well that he would haul her up if she didn’t and she had enough bruises on her body already.

Lily couldn’t decide if she would be glad of an attack or not, which group of rogues would she prefer held her captive. It mattered little, for it seemed that, moment by moment, the stark realisation was dawning on her that there was not a soul left on the earth who cared for her safety.

Chapter Fifty-Nine
Bejewelled

Cat dragged the half-filled sack of gold and jewels up onto the sand. Even half-empty it was a burden to carry through the water and she had been close to dropping it more than once. But now, hauling it up the little sandbank, she was close to victory.

She did her best to tie the sack closed and then tie the rope around it. It would likely kill her if it landed on her and she darkly thought how fitting that ending would be.

She tugged on the rope and called out as loud as she could with her exhausted lungs, “last one!” It was immediately hauled up. She could hear the muttering and swearing of her two new crewmates amplified by the cave as they strained to lift it.

“Damned glad this be the last,” Caleb shouted.

“Who would ‘ave thought this accursed gold would have such a weight?”

Cat watched as the bag was slowly raised out of the crevice. The light of the torches flashed brightly once the sack was pulled from the tunnel and no longer blocked the entrance.

She waited.

After a few minutes of hearing nothing, she called back up to them.

“Throw the rope back down, lads!”

But nothing.

She knew they were still there as she could see the light from their torches and then suddenly a single coin was tossed in, hitting the cave walls this way and that before landing on the sand at her feet. Then the light went out.

“Bastards,” she whispered to herself.

They had their two sacks of gold and now they were on their way. They had no loyalty to her nor she to them. For a moment, she wondered if she might find her way out of the cave through the cavern and onto the rocks under the cliff.

But she was weighed down with necklaces, bracelets, armlets, a golden diadem, and a ceremonial sword. She didn’t want to give the pieces up and didn’t want to drown with them so she would simply have to climb.

With bare feet, in the pitch black, carrying her own weight again in gold, Cat began to scramble up the sharp-edged rock face.

She made her way up along a narrow crack and every few feet she leaned against the far side of the tunnel to take the weight off her feet and hands.

Slowly, blindly, she edged her way up and up, until finally, Cat reached the flat surface of the cave floor above. She hauled her body over the top and rested a few moments in the dark, grinning at her victory.

The weight of the jewel encrusted gold adorning her body seemed to have grown heavier and Cat could barely lift herself into a sitting position. Her arms ached, her feet were sore and her body was tired but she had won.

The Blackbird would be setting off with their measly couple of sacks. She laughed a little at the thought of how Drew and Caleb were so quick to betray her that they didn’t even check to see how much treasure there was. She knew she would never see them again and she was glad of it

Now that she had the treasure it was time to win Lily back. To prove that she could be trusted and perhaps even buy off that clay-brained Captain Yates to clear her name. Cat knew well that money talked and she certainly had enough of it to say exactly what she wanted.

Her next challenge was to track down Lily on this labyrinthine little island. The path up from the inlet had been difficult enough to follow but without any clue where Lily might be she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She considered staying hidden where she was after all Lily must be on her way here. But getting caught here would make it appear that she was after only the treasure. She had to find Lily and give her the treasure. Not get caught making off with it.

With a deep breath, Cat hauled her heavy body from the cave floor readying herself for hours scouring the jungle landscape. With her hand against the cave wall for guidance, she hurried through the tunnel and out into the bright Caribbean sun.

Then headlong into Kingsley.

The two barely had a moment to react to one another. Cat drew her jewel encrusted sword from its sheath and Kingsley raised his pistol pulling back the flint with his thumb, his features contorted into a snarl.

But then the whole clearing was filled with wild shouts, whistles, and bangs as the hidden pirates from the Kraken attacked.

Two men ran from the tree-line, tackling Kingsley to the ground. Cat was about to charge into the fray when she heard a scream. Looking desperately around, she saw a flash of blue silk disappear into the trees.

“Lily!”

Cat took off at a sprint. Dashing over a body and around a fist fight she charged after her. She darted left and right through trees and up the hillside until suddenly the ground disappeared in front of her. She stumbled backwards to avoid falling from the cliff.

Staggering to her feet, she looked around desperately and was overjoyed to see Lily but her joy was poisoned with the realisation that she was being held by Parsons, the very man Cat had challenged to a duel.

He was almost snarling, his forearm choking Lily, his other hand holding a sword to her cheek. Lily’s feet barely scraped the ground, she was grabbing at his arm and fighting to breathe.

Cat pointed her sword at him. “Let her go!”

“Oh aye, ye have the upper hand does ya?”

“What do you want, Parsons, ya scabweed?”

He laughed, “Trust in thee to turn up like a rotten maggot.”

“Let her go.” Cat moved forward slowly. Lily was struggling and Parsons was dangerously near the edge she knew that if he fell he would take Lily with him.

“What’s she worth?”

‘Everything,’ Cat thought, but instead, she pulled a necklace over her head. It was gold and encrusted with jewels, she recognised the pattern from something she had seen brought back from the Americas by the Spanish. Aztec, Inca, she didn’t know who she should be thanking but she held it out to him.

“There are so many more like this,” she said holding it out. “How about a gesture of goodwill?”

“Throw it over,” he snarled.

Cat paused and glanced over the edge. It was a long fall to the clear water below. “Come here and fetch it,” she replied.

Suddenly Parsons switched Lily to hold her with his sword arm, he held his free hand out to Cat. “Throw it over,” he repeated.

Cat glanced at Lily and for the briefest of moments, their eyes met. Lily was no longer held too tightly. Parsons wasn’t looking at her and she gave the slightest of nods to Cat who immediately understood. Without another thought, Cat threw the necklace to Parsons. As he reached for it Lily turned and pushed him backwards.

Shocked, Cat rushed forward, grabbing hold of Lily both to prevent her falling after the man and to hold her close for the first time in what seemed like weeks.

Stood at the top of the cliff, they watched as Parsons hit the water. Cat wasn’t certain he could swim but she was damned relieved he was gone.

She held Lily tighter. She didn’t want to let her go, she wanted to soak up her smell and her presence and hold her closer. She kissed her head tenderly. She could have cried at the relief of being able to hold her again

But Lily wriggled from her grasp and turned to her with laughter. “It’s really you,” she said. Then Lily took Cat in her arms and kissed her. Their full lips met and their whole bodies pressed against one another with the joy of being together and the memory of the last time they had touched this way.

“Are you well? How have they treated you?” Cat asked urgently as soon as their lips parted. She inspected a bruise lighting Lily’s pale cheek.

“I am well enough, but your friends aboard the Sea Nymph—”

“I don’t have any friends,” Cat replied, thinking of how they had marooned her and left her to die.

“But you, Cat? What happened?”

“I’ve found your treasure!”

“I can see,” Lily replied laughing, “Look at you, you fool! How on earth did you get here?”

Cat laughed then. She was just glad to have found Lily again, nothing mattered now, “It’s a long story,” she said.

“I think we should all like to hear it,” said Kingsley as he emerged from the undergrowth, Glenister at his side, along with a half dozen men.

Chapter Sixty
Confrontation

Lily stood in front of Cat, a protective barrier between the woman she loved and the man who wanted her dead. She should have known he would be on her tail. She should have made Cat run when they had the chance but she was distracted just by seeing her alive and now she was likely to lose her all over again.

Kingsley stepped forward, a rare smile of delight across his features. It did not suit him.

“I am pleased to see you are both… well,” he taunted with a little bow, his sincerity undermined by his unwillingness to sheath his sword. Lily looked around at his men, a few of them had bruises and cuts to their features, torn clothes, and bloodstains. But she counted only eight. With Glenister as well that meant Kingsley had lost three of his most loyal. She wondered if it bothered him. He prowled around the pair of them. She could feel Cat behind her, drawing her sword and Lily hoped to God that she wasn’t about to be in the middle of yet another fight.

“Will you try and kill me again?” Cat laughed, “They say third time’s a charm.”

“There is no need for any killing,” Lily said, trying to broker a peace but as she glanced at Cat she felt she had betrayed her a little.

“None at all,” Kingsley said, putting away his sword, although he didn’t order his men to do the same, “we have but one purpose today and from the looks of you,” he was looking at Cat in her absurd finery, like a gaudy cart boy, “it appears you know the way.”

Kingsley marched forward but Lily didn’t budge. She stood fast between him and his goal. Kingsley stared at her for a moment, before he grabbed her by the shoulder and threw her into Glenister’s waiting arms, who immediately placed a pistol against her head.

Cat, her back to the cliff edge and armed with only the ceremonial sword, glanced around at the contingent of men, they were bruised and tired, but far from beaten.

Suddenly Cat flipped over her sword, holding it out, handle first to Kingsley. Kingsley stared at it for a moment before turning to his men.

“The whelp knows when it’s been beaten,” he said, then laughed and his men saw the opportunity to laugh and cheer along with him.

Although Lily hadn’t wanted to see Cat fight, when she watched her give into Kingsley so easily she couldn’t help but feel utterly disappointed. She had thought there was more zeal in her. Now it looked as though they were both captured.

Kingsley happily took the sword from Cat and held it up to the light as Cat threw down the rest of her weighty jewels in a pile in front of her.

“Holy Roman Empire,” Kingsley muttered as he admired the blade, “Looks like the crest of Maximillian, what think you?” He held the handle out to Glenister as the other men scrabbled at the jewels at Cat’s feet.

“If yer says so, Cap’n,” Glenister said, his grip on Lily didn’t loosen and he seemed, in fact, to drive the end of the flintlock further against her skull. She wanted to call out to Cat, but to say what?

“Stunning. Worth a fortune by itself.” Kingsley could barely take his eyes from it, “I say we locate the rest of this little hoard, bring her along.” He ordered his men with barely a wave of his hand and Lily was forced forward by Glenister, his hands were sweaty and vice-like, his odour pungent.

Their mood elated with their luck, the crewmen turned to trail off back down the hill. But Cat, now relieved of her heavy jewels, suddenly shot from the group and ran.

“Cat!” Lily called, unable to hold her tongue. She watched in horror as Cat darted to the edge then leapt off the cliff.

“Fire!” Kingsley yelled. His men fumbled for their guns but their arms were loaded with jewels. Lily heard a distant splash followed by a round of musket and pistol shot as the men rushed to the side and fired down at the water.

Kingsley marched forward and peered down. Lily longed to see but the hands holding her had not loosed their grip an iota.

“Did any man hit?” Kingsley demanded, clearly unable to see Cat.

“Aye,” one said, “I hit a clear shot, back o’ the head.”

Lily gasped.

“I hit an’ all!” another man shouted, “through the heart!”

Suddenly all the men had hit a death shot, none of them wanting to be outdone by the other, and Lily felt a wave of relief as she realised not one of them was telling the truth.

Cat had slipped from Kingsley’s grasp yet again.

Although what might happen to her now, she didn’t dare imagine.

Chapter Sixty-One
A New Plan

The water was ice cool against her skin.

She dove many feet under and hit the seabed, using it to springboard back up again. After going so deep she almost couldn’t hold her breath long enough and burst the surface panting for air. She was close to the cliff, underneath a sharp overhang, she heard the echo of the shots fired around her and the frustrated shouts of Kingsley.

She couldn’t help but smile at having outwitted that gloatish villain once again. She wondered how many hours he would search the cave for the rest of the gold before realising it had already gone. Cat laughed to herself but was struck dumb as she thought of Lily.

So brief had their moment been together it was almost more painful than to not have seen her at all and now she had left Lily in the kind of danger she hadn’t wanted to face herself.

She had to save her. But how?

As Cat clung to the cliff face underneath the overhang, the water cool against her hot skin, waiting for the men on the cliff above to leave and hoping they wouldn’t follow her on her mad dive, she noticed a dark shape floating on the water a few yards away.

It took her a moment to realise it was Parsons. Another man dead because of her. It wasn’t so long ago that she had been willing to shoot him dead on that beach but now his lifeless body saddened her.

She was so damned stupid.

Forever fighting. Forever at loggerheads with others. Where had it gotten her? At the bottom of a cliff with nothing but a dead man for company.

She thought of John. He had always been there for her. He had carried her to safety, watched her back, helped her with her disguise, and acted as a father when she needed him to. She thought of Fletcher, his cunning, his guile, and eventually, his friendship. Then she thought of Tommy. He’d been like the little brother she’d never had. He used to follow her around, trying to join in the games he was still too small for, he had always looked up to her, respected her, admired her even… until the day he saw through her.

When she eloped with Michael, Tommy was the only one who saw the marriage for the sham it was and saw the damage she had done. He hated her for it and it was only now, over a year later, that she could truly admit he had been right to.

She didn’t deserve respect because she was the strongest, or the fastest, or the quickest wit. It mattered not how many leagues she could swim, or how many gallons of rum she could smuggle. What mattered most was that she was there when someone she loved needed her.

Lily needed her.

But John needed her, Fletcher needed her, and Tommy needed her, and despite her boldness and her cleverness, she needed them too.

Nothing was worth anything if she didn’t have the loyalty of her friends, and she didn’t deserve their friendship if she wasn’t willing to help them when they needed her most.

It was at that moment that Cat came up with a new plan. She was going to capture the Kraken from Kingsley’s men. She was going to save Lily from his grasp and then she was going to destroy the man himself.

But she wasn’t going to do it alone.

Chapter Sixty-Two
Piece of Eight

“There’s nothin’.”

The voice echoed up from the tunnel and off the walls of the cave. Lily was dumbfounded, ‘how could there be nothing? After everything, how could there be nothing?’

Kingsley’s face, illuminated only by the light of the single torch they had between them, seemed like the visage of the Devil himself.

“Have you looked, man!” Kingsley yelled back, furious.

There was a pause, Lily wondered how much abuse even the most loyal of Kingsley’s men could take, especially now that it seemed it was all for naught.

“There’s a tunnel and a cavern, but nothing within except…”

Kingsley couldn’t contain himself and Lily thought his very body could burst with his ferocity.

“Except what, man?”

“A coin; a Spanish piece of eight.”

“Pieces of eight? How many?”

“One!” the echoed ghostlike voice replied, “One single coin!”

Kingsley let out a roar that Lily thought might bring the whole cavern in upon their heads. “That bitch!” he shouted, “How did she clear the damned cave alone?”

“She cannae be alone, Cap’n.” Glenister spoke up suddenly and Kingsley looked at him ready to snap, “she dinnae fly here on a broomstick, she’s hid a ship, and on that, I’ll wager ma sword.”

Kingsley stared at him for a moment. The rage boiling away as the logic hit him. Slowly he nodded, then turned to Lily.

“What do you know?” he asked.

Lily panicked. Of course, Cat must have found a ship somehow, somewhere but Lily didn’t have a clue how.

“I don’t—” but before she could utter the rest of the sentence Kingsley had hit her hard across the face. She was sure she would have a bruise on her cheek to match the first. A little blood swelled in her mouth from a cut on her lip and she looked up at Kingsley with all the rage and hate she had in her.

“She didn’t tell me,” Lily said defiantly, “perhaps if we’d had longer before we were so rudely interrupted—”

“You perverted whore,” Kingsley said through gritted teeth, “I doubt you would have been talking of ships if we had left you two alone much longer. I see now why you were protecting that wayward bitch,” suddenly he laughed, “you are fortunate to have been rutting such a filthy creature, it may have just saved your life.” He turned to his men and spoke louder, “The ill-tempered wretch will not have gone too far from her sweetmeat and the rest of the treasure must be stacked aboard her ship hidden hereabouts,” he began marching out of the cave toward the sunlight, “we have something she wants more than gold, let us see if we can lure the rat out of the gutter with it.”

Chapter Sixty-Three
Cat O’ Nine Lives

Cat swam around the Kraken. She could see no one aboard but that didn’t mean it wasn’t crammed with Kingsley’s men. But if she was to shake Kingsley off her tail and rescue Lily, then she had to keep to her plan.

She pulled herself up onto the rigging, reminded of her escapades the night before. The Kraken was a larger ship and she had to be even more careful of the guards. She traversed across the ship and onto the aftcastle near the officers’ quarters. There was no window left conveniently open and Cat sighed, knowing each step forward brought her closer to danger and yet at no step could she walk away. With her elbow, she smashed at a glass pane, it crunched under her force and the lead-lights warped slightly. If anyone was inside the officer’s room they were slow to react. Weedling out the glass pieces Cat slid her hand through, opened the window, and slipped inside.

‘How many times is that now?’ she thought to herself.

She didn’t have a chance to search the quarters for weapons or dry clothes because she knew it wouldn’t take long for Kingsley to search the cavern and give chase.

She left a trail of wet prints across the room then opened the door and walked straight into a crewman. They both stumbled and turned to one another in shock.

“Cobham?”

“Jack?”

Neither of them moved. Cat held her hands high and Cobham, even more like a dopey-eyed wolfhound than ever, held a shaking musket at her chest.

“You wouldn’t shoot me now, Cobham,” Cat said with hope more than certainty. Cursing herself for valuing speed over stealth.

“I ought. They’ll kill me else… You’d do the same to me, Jack.”

“I looked out for you, Cob,” she said, remembering the night she had caught him sleeping on watch duty, “made sure you didn’t get caught in dereliction of duty, saved you plenty I’d say.”

Cobham looked pained. He closed his eyes unable to look at Cat as he trained his musket on her chest, then reluctantly lowered it.

“Go,” he said, “go, an’ I’ll never say I saw thee.”

Cat let go of the breath she had been holding and looked at the door to her escape but she couldn’t go through it, not just yet.

“Are the others in the hold, Cob?”

“Now don’t be goin’ down there, they’ll have me neck if you set ‘em free!” He was panicking, he brought the musket up to her chest once again Cat raised her hands quickly and took a step back.

“If I release them, Cobham,” she said carefully, “You won’t have to worry no more, I’ll have your back.”

Cobham laughed. “You, Jack? You ain’t even a lad, let alone a man. How can ye have my back?”

Cat bit her tongue, she wanted him on her side and didn’t want to bite his head off at his foul remarks on her abilities. She put her hands down slowly and looked him in the eye. “I’m here ain’t I? I was shot at by the King’s Revenue but I’m still here. I was left to rot on a sandbar but I’m still here. I was hanged from a yardarm at port but I’m still here! And that bastard Kingsley has tried to have me killed every damned way he can think but I am still here, Cobham.” She was furious now at his dissent. “So, you will put that damned musket down and you had better be damned glad that I am watching your back because dammit Cobham I’ve left a trail of dead men in my wake and I do not want you to be another.”

“A-Aye, Sir-Ma’am,” he stammered, lowering the weapon, “they, they never trusted me with a loaded musket anyways.” He looked down sadly and Cat felt a shadow of remorse for her curses but this was far outweighed by the joy of her victory.

“Show me down, Cob.”

They jogged down the three decks to the trapdoor above the hold, Cobham didn’t have a key and he began fumbling at the lock. Cat took the musket from his hands and smashed the thing in, kicking the shattered pieces aside and opening the trapdoor. It was pitch black in there and for a moment Cat wondered if there had been a mistake but the smell of thirty trapped men hit her like a wave and she realised they were in the right place.

She grabbed a lantern from a beam and stuck her head down. The crew were a miserable ragtag group, tired, unkempt, and no doubt unfed and in need of water.

“Cathy!” Cat couldn’t help but grin at the familiar voice.

“Aye John!” she called down merrily, “didn’t think ye could rid yourself of me that easily?”

“You’re a Cat with nine lives!” He chuckled happily.

“Well done, Lass,” This time it was the voice of Bartholomew Hood that spoke as he eased himself off the floor and made his way to the ladder toward the light, “you’ve given me back my ship.”

“More like I’ve taken a ship for myself,” she said, he stopped in his tracks, then laughed.

“You’ve a wit about ye, I’ll give you that,” he went to climb the ladder but she didn’t move to let him up.

“This is my ship,” she said firmly, knowing she was pushing her luck but feeling the thrill of being back on top, “and I’ve men loyal to me, have I not?” she called out the last and was relieved to hear several of the men in the hold shout ‘Aye’ along with Cobham, who now held his unloaded musket at Bartholomew Hood. “I’d say, Captain, that you’ve not done well for your men, and it’s time for a new Captain.”

“Are ye serious?”

“Listen, lads,” she called out past Hood, into the darkness of the beleaguered men below, “I’ve a plan to send that bastard Kingsley back to the devil that he came from and fill this ship with more gold than a man could spend in his lifetime. Or you can stay loyal to your old Captain and keep to the comforts of the hold.” She smiled at Hood and he raised his eyebrows at her, “what say you all?” A cheer erupted from below and Cat laughed. “I’d say I’m serious, Hood, wouldn’t you?”

Chapter Sixty-Four
Adrift

Feeling decidedly wretched and as though her whole world kept twisting upside down, Lily was forced back aboard the Herakles.

“Ready the men,” Kingsley ordered Glenister the moment they stepped aboard, “we are to set off immediately, catch the wind and circulate the island, she can’t have gone far.”

As Glenister nodded, Kingsley pulled at Lily’s arm and headed toward the Captain’s office. She dreaded what was about to happen and could only hope that they would be alone and that perhaps she could somehow overpower him.

“Sir!” An eager young boy ran up to Kingsley as they were about to enter the aftcastle.

“What is it now?” Kingsley asked, the irritation clear in his voice.

The young boy pointed across the bay to the Kraken, “they’re on the move, Sir!”

Kingsley stared, wide-eyed at the Kraken. The ship was at half sail, barely moving. Kingsley grabbed a spyglass from inside his jacket and stared at the ship for a moment then slowly he put the spyglass away.

“Should we shout Ahoy and ask what they is about, Sir?”

“No,” Kingsley said firmly. “Glenister!” he called and the man was there in an instant, “Load the guns. Quietly.” The Boatswain nodded and was gone. Kingsley turned and seemed to see Lily for the first time. He opened the Captain’s office and shoved her through the door before locking it after her.

***

Cat watched the Herakles through the spyglass. She was sure that they would have shouted ‘Ahoy’ by now and asked what they were about but they were staying mysteriously quiet.

“They’ve yet to see us,” Fletcher said happily, he crouched next to her on the quarter deck. Neither were willing to stand and risk being noticed by the Herakles crew.

“There’s something about this I don’t like,” Cat whispered.

“But they haven’t noticed a thing,” said Fletcher, peering through his own spyglass.

Cat glanced at Strong, he was sat on the deck clutching a cutlass with two pistols about his waistband. He hadn’t looked over at the Herakles yet, his skin was deathly pale and Cat she was sure he had the same pensiveness as she.

“It’s them not noticing that I don’t like,” Cat said finally, snapping closed her spyglass and making a decision. “Tell the men to prepare for fire.”

Fletcher looked at her with surprise but nodded. He clambered away, keeping his body well below the deck rail to obscure his presence from the other ship. She saw him speak to Tommy who nodded and went off in the other direction.

Cat watched the Herakles. The hairs on her neck were standing up. She could feel the tension in the air; something in her gut that told her this would not be the swift take-down she had hoped for.

She glanced at the yards above her.

Five heavily armed crewmen were hidden ready to swing across to the Herakles at her word. A dozen crewmen were scattered about the deck, ready to board once the ships were aligned, and she knew the gun monkeys below had loaded the cannon, ready to roll them out on a word.

She looked again at the Herakles. By her calculation, it should still be a skeleton crew. She couldn’t believe that Kingsley would give up on a search of that cavern before he had gone through it thoroughly. The crew of the Herakles should have shouted to ask about the Kraken’s movements. When they received no reply they should have launched a clipper and headed out to them to secure the ship from drifting. But none of that had happened and Cat needed to know why.

Then she saw it.

A minor movement so small she would never have seen it had it not been for the nerves somersaulting in her belly. A minor shuffle, no more than a wobble. It could have just been the wind but she also knew it could just as easily have been a crewman aboard the Herakles unlocking the gun bay doors that made them shake that way and, with a dreaded certainty, she knew that’s exactly what it was.

They were on to her.

Chapter Sixty-Five
Sea-Battle

“FIRE!”

It was as if hell itself had opened and the canons of the Kraken fired only a moment before those of the Herakles.

Both ships shook with the impact and Cat readied the men to fire another round. She had to cripple the ship now, sink the damned thing.

But then as she opened her mouth to give the order she saw Kingsley. Her stomach twisted in knots. Cat knew if Kingsley was aboard that ship then so was Lily.

Now she knew why they were prepared for her, now she knew why the skeleton crew had outsmarted her, and now she knew above everything else, what she had to do.

She turned to Strong, “You’re in command,” she yelled then turned to the men in the yards, “Board!” she screamed, grabbing a line of her own and swinging twenty-foot over the ocean below.

In a hail of bullets, knives, cannon fire, and shrapnel, Cat and her boarding party flew across to the Herakles, tucking and rolling upon their hard landing. Immediately Cat was met with a cutlass but, before she could react, one of her men was there taking the man on.

Cat stayed low. She glanced around the deck it was a mess of wood, ropes and bodies. She had to find Lily but where to start? She ran to the aftcastle and tried the door. Locked. She ran at the door with her full force, knocked it through, and ran headlong into the navigation table.

“Cat!”

She looked up to see Lily, standing with two pistols at the ready and a sword at her waist. She had prepared for anything that might come through that door, anything except Cat.

Winded from landing against the hard surface Cat managed to stand, “We have to go.”

Lily nodded and they risked going back on deck. There was hand to hand fighting and her own men were being overwhelmed. But Cat had what she came for.

“RETREAT!” She managed to shout over the din.

Her men scrambled back to the lines, she watched them take off toward the Kraken and grabbed a rope to follow.

“Leaving so soon?” Kingsley asked.

She turned to see him holding out a cutlass and quickly drew her own.

Keeping her eyes on Kingsley she handed the rope to Lily. “Tell them to fire as soon as you get aboard,” she said.

It was time to face Kingsley.

Chapter Sixty-Six
No Mercy

Kingsley was stronger, taller, and better trained with a sword than Cat.

But she knew that all she had to do was keep the damned man occupied long enough for the ship to be sunk and for Lily to be safe.

That was all that mattered now.

“Did you think it would be easy to take me down?” he taunted.

“I thought it would be difficult,” she lied, “but I suppose I was wrong.”

He smashed her sword with his, she almost dropped it. They circled around one another and his snarling face grew angrier with every step.

The ship shook with the sound of further gunfire and Cat knew it was the signal that Lily had returned. A bittersweet mix of emotion; Lily was safe but she wouldn’t see her again. She knew Kingsley was stronger and even if she won this fight, the Herakles was sinking and that was a fight she could only lose.

“Where is your ship?”

Cat looked at him confused for a moment and wondered if he had gone quite mad because her ship was looming over his like the Devil itself but then it dawned on her; he was talking of the Blackbird

She laughed. “Flown away!”

All around them the ship was starting to burn. The mast had fallen and she realised that most of the men were jumping overboard, hoping to escape to shore or the Kraken. She hoped they could swim.

He flew at her again, frustrated. She leapt backwards, just about able to fend off his attacks but her sword arm was weak. She was untrained and unpracticed.

“Where have you hidden the gold?” he demanded.

“You’ll never find it!” Cat taunted, he may have the upper hand with strength but she was damned if she was going to give into him now.

Kingsley smashed her sword away and before she could recover her stance and leap backwards he sliced across her belly.

The pain was delayed. Sharp and dull at the same time. She couldn’t hold in her cry of agony and surprise.

“Tell me and you won’t die today,” Kingsley said looming closer. He smashed her sword away again and this time she let go.

“I’ll die happy if I take you with me,” Cat replied.

He laughed at her as she backed away desperately looking around for another weapon. One arm was holding the cut across her stomach, she didn’t know how deep it was but the blood was seeping freely.

“You’ll be screaming for death by the time I finish with you,” he said, closing in.

Cat turned to grab a loose piece of wood but as she did he took his chance, striking her across the face with such force she was knocked to the ground. She looked up at him as she scrambled backwards. Her defiance wavered as she pulled at a rope, and then at a man’s leg, frantically seeking a weapon as he glowered at her, enjoying watching her fear.

“I can cut you a thousand times before you die,” his voice was a low growl, his sword threatening her neck. Suddenly he sliced her shoulder. She cried out with the pain.

“Even,” she stammered, trying to keep the agony from her voice, “even if I told you, you’d never reach it now. Your men are gone, your ship is failing—”

As if to prove her point, the ship creaked loudly, the hull far below had finally been breached. Suddenly the Herakles lurched starboard turning Cat’s world to the side enough to cause Kingsley to stagger.

Cat took her chance and grabbed the musket from the dead man lying next to her, turning it on Kingsley with delight.

He turned back and a ferocious look of shock passed over his face as Cat pulled the trigger.

Nothing.

The shot had already been fired and Cat was truly at his mercy.

He laughed at her failure, “You will tell me where you have hidden that damnable gold or I will slit open that little whore of yours from hip to jowl.”

“Curse you, you bastard!” she shouted, launching the empty musket firmly at his head. He staggered back a step and Cat scrambled to her feet, thinking to at least try to run with her wounds.

But he was after her in a moment. The Herakles was lurching further to starboard, barrels, boxes, and crates were falling off the side as he slammed her against what was left of the main mast.

“We will both die here.” He almost sounded as though he was pleading, “Tell me and I will get us off this ship.” He said the words quietly and close to her face as he held her firmly against the wooden mast.

Cat wanted to live and for a fraction of a moment she considered giving in to him but she knew she couldn’t.

“I’d rather die,” she spat.

“Then you damned well shall!” He tore her from the mast, throwing her down onto the slanted deck and pulled a pistol from his waistband.

Cat looked straight down the barrel, defiant to the last, and then she heard the shot.

Chapter Sixty-Seven
Hidden Treasure

Kingsley stumbled forward. His mouth opened and closed in shock as he choked on the blood spurting forth from his throat

Cat stared at him as he fell to his knees.

"That's for my sister!" Lily said standing behind him. She then swung her musket and struck his head with a deafening crack. Kingsley sprawled on the deck blank-eyed next to Cat as she stared at him open mouthed.

"And that was for Captain Yates," Lily finished.

Cat was dumbfounded. Her heart swelled and then filled with panic. She had told Lily to leave. Lily should have been safe. Now they were both stuck on board a sinking ship.

"Are you coming or not?" Lily said, holding out a hand.

"You killed him?" Cat said, more in awe than shock.

"We couldn't leave you."

"We?" Cat asked as Lily helped her to her feet.

"You didn't think I'd come alone did you?"

"I didn't think—" But Cat's heart swelled again as she heard a familiar voice.

"Come on, Lasses!" John called, from a waiting rowboat, "she be sinkin' fast!"

Lily half dragged her to the edge of the ship, the starboard side was almost level with the water and there were waves lapping on deck. They scrambled in the boat and, as fast as he could, John rowed them from the swell caused by a ship the size of the Herakles falling foul of the ocean.

Delicately, Cat was helped aboard the Kraken. Her wounds had stopped bleeding and she was glad to see they were barely more than scratches. She brushed away attempts to take her below and dress her wounds; she couldn’t leave deck now, she had work to do.

“Take the ship around to the bay below the cliffs,” she ordered Fletcher, he nodded and, gathering a few crewmen, set to work on getting the ship moving again.

The crew helped the last few survivors of the Kraken board and they were led down to the hold. “The more crew, the better,” she said to John, “We’ll offer them the articles.”

“Oh, will we?” asked Hood, and Cat, in her weakened state, wasn’t certain if she could face another battle.

“Aye,” she said, “We will, I’ll not kill more men. Not for bad cause.”

“I’m not so sure you’re the Captain no more,” Hood said, walking toward her. Crewmen stood by menacingly waiting for the clash of Captains. John went for his pistol but, with a wave of her hand, Cat told him not to draw it.

“Mayhaps you hit your head while the Herakles sank? I can see no other reason you think I not be the Captain.” Cat stood as best she could without the support of Lily or Strong but she could feel the pressure of the hot weather and the loss of blood threatening to make her swoon. She could not afford to be seen as weak at a time when she needed to be her strongest.

“Aye,” Hood nodded, “I might a hit my head during the fight, how else can I explain my mem’ry of a treasure I was promised but don’t see in my hand,” he held out his hand in front of him and made a mockery of feigning surprise that it was empty. The crew laughed and, to his surprise, Cat laughed with him.

“Oh, you thinks a broken promise is a joke, Miss Jack?” His face darkened and she noticed his fist clench around the pommel of his sword.

“Nay, sir,” Cat said with a grandiose bow, “Just that you have the patience of a fat babe eager for tits,” she smiled as she noticed Hood’s most loyal of men smirk at her joke, “I’ve sent that bastard Kingsley to the depths!” She shouted the words and all the men that had hated Kingsley huzzar’d her announcement. She staggered forward a hand still clasping her wound but she was determined that she would win them over, “I believe I also promised to fill this ship with more gold than any man could spend in his lifetime?”

“Aye, that you did,” said Hood, and she could see his patience wearing thin. If she didn’t win him over she may have her own mutiny to deal with.

“Well, Sir, if you care to look,” she pointed to the bottom of the island’s main mountain as the ship eased into the north bay toward the cliffs, “hidden upon those rocks is more gold than the Privateer,” she made a point of saying that word and glanced at Lily as she did so, “Captain Lewen Exquemelin managed to spend in his lifetime, and I do believe, Sir, that it is now ours.”

Hood looked over at the rocks and then back at her with confusion. She took a spyglass from John and handed it to him. Hood took it then moved to the edge of the ship and looked out over the water. The whole crew seemed to be holding their breath.

Eventually, he put the spyglass away and turned to Cat, staring at her in disbelief for a moment before turning back to his own men. “Aye,” he said, nodding in approval, “It be there, sure enough.”

The crew erupted into cheering but Hood stepped closer to Cat as she stood with John and Lily. They all seemed to have only one question on their lips but it was Hood that voiced it.

“How the devil did you move that gold on your own?”

Cat smiled. Remembering how she had one by one emptied the gold from each chest into the two sacks, taken the empty chest out to the rocks and filled it up again, then repeated the process with the next treasure chest. All the while the men from the Blackbird waited for her.

“Patience,” she said, “and a touch of cunning.”

Chapter Sixty-Eight
And So…

That night there was much carousal aboard the Kraken.

Kingsley hadn’t bought many supplies over from the Herakles but what there was Cat ordered should be consumed. The music and singing was played well past curfew, the drink flowed, and the dancing continued throughout most of the night.

Cat had her wounds carefully bound but after sharing only a single ale she slipped away. She could still hear the celebration through the wooden walls of the ship but after the fierce fighting of the day, she wanted only the quiet solitude of the Captain’s cabin.

She searched the cupboard and was surprised to find half a decanter of brandy pushed to the back. She pulled out a glass and poured herself a good measure and thought of those who hadn’t lived to see this night.

She heard the door open behind her.

“The party is for you,” Lily said.

Cat shook her head, “I’m in no mood for it, I’d rather be alone.”

“Oh,” Lily said and turned to go, “I understand.”

“I meant…” but Cat wasn’t sure what she meant.

Lily stood by the door a hand resting upon the handle as she looked to Cat waiting for a cue.

“I would rather you stayed.” Cat was relieved to see Lily smile.

“I did wonder…” Lily looked away and gently bit her lip.

“What did you wonder?” Cat stepped forward needing to be closer to Lily and suddenly feeling as though she might be pulling away.

“I wondered if perhaps you had…” Lily looked up at her with those deep, trusting eyes, “reconsidered your quick forgiveness?”

“What could I possibly need to forgive you for?” Cat asked, still riddled with her own guilt, “You saved my life!”

“I risked your life!” Lily replied, looking away from her, a crack in her voice, “When they ordered your death- I should have done something, I should have trusted you more, I should have…”

Cat reached out and delicately touched Lily’s chin, bringing her face up again. There were tears in her eyes making them all the more beautiful in the light of the lamps.

“I was so scared,” Lily whispered, “I was so scared of losing you that I was foolish enough to let you go.”

“You never lost me,” Cat said, “I’m yours. I think I’ve been yours since I first saw you on deck. It just took me until my execution to realise it.”

Lily laughed at that. “I love you.”

Cat nodded, “Good. Because I love you too.”

Lily touched Cat’s cheek and moved forward, brushing her lips against Cat’s. They held one another, never wanting to be parted again and desperate to make up for the time they had lost.

Suddenly the door burst open. In poured Fletcher, John, and Tommy, cheering with merriment. The music from deck had struck up a jig and John was singing without knowing the words.

When they saw Lily and Cat together they halted for a moment and then cheered. “To the Captain!” Fletcher said, raising his glass and the others followed.

“The Captain!”

“The jig’s in full swing, and in need of lassies!”

“Nay, I’m not for dancing tonight, Fletch,” Cat said, her arm still around Lily’s waist.

“Oh, aye?” Fletcher said, nodding to Lily with a wink.

Cat laughed, “I’m for making plans tonight. Tomorrow we have a new life to face, there must be at least one of us sober enough to face it.”

“Oh! What’s the thinking?” said Fletcher, putting his drink down.

John took a seat at the Captain’s table, a soberness across his features, “Let’s hear thee’s thoughts,” he said.

“Whatever’s for tomorrow,” Tommy said, taking a seat next to John, “I’m in.”

They all looked up expectantly at Cat and, with Lily stood next to her, she felt for the first time in her life that she was truly free.

She couldn’t help but smile.

“Well,” she said, “if we are to gain pardons and become legitimate privateers, we shall need a new name for the ship and a letter of marque. So, tomorrow I say we head back to the Island of St Thomas and see about getting a royal sanction for our new vessel.” She looked around the table.

“What’s she to be called, then?” asked Fletcher.

Cat took a deep breath and glanced at Tommy. She knew the weight this new name would carry and it meant as much to him as it did to her It was so important that, after all the bad blood between them, he approved of her choice. “The Swan.”

Tommy smiled and gave a gentle nod, “‘Tis a fine name.”

“Aye,” said John, a grin across his face and Fletcher nodded in agreement.

“And John,” Cat said, returning to business, “You’ll be the First Mate, Tommy you’ll be Second, and Fletch, you’ll be my Quartermaster.”

The three of them looked at one another with grins and clanked their tankards together, each man happy with his rank.

Then Cat looked to Lily, suddenly nervous. “Have you thought of what you’ll do?”

Lily glanced at the faces of the men and then back to Cat, “I hadn’t thought beyond today,” she said.

“Would…” Cat started but she struggled to find the words, “I’m in need of a Navigation Officer… if you would care to join us?”

Lily laughed and took Cat’s hand in her own, “I would follow you to the ends of the Earth,” she said.

“That’s settled then,” Cat said, looking around the room at the people who meant most to her in all the world. “Tomorrow, we start a new adventure!”

THE END

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GRETEL: A FAIRYTALE RETOLD

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Niamh Murphy is a historian and novelist specialising in romantic lesbian fiction.

In 2012, she committed herself to writing professionally and published her debut novel ‘Mask of the Highwaywoman’, a swashbuckling historical romance that combined her love of history and adventure. She went on to complete a MA in Creative Writing at the University of Essex in 2016 and is now working on putting all her fantastical stories on the page.

She is passionate about experimenting with different genres and has a fondness for romantic action and adventure. She has written stories with vampires, werewolves, elves, magic, knights, sorceresses, and witches as well as contemporary and humorous stories, but always with a lesbian protagonist and a romantic element to the tale.

Niamh spent her childhood in rural Wales where she gained a love of the wild countryside and became fascinated with the myths and legends of the ancient country. She developed a passion for fairy tales, myth, legend, and fantasy early on and devoured the works of Robert Louis Stevenson, Tolkien, Elizabeth Beresford, C.S. Lewis, and, of course, J.K. Rowling. She wrote her first story, about a child that finds a magic broomstick, at the tender age of six and was always coercing her friends into acting in her plays. As a teenager, her love of writing continued, and she developed an interest in poetry and romance. But her taste for adventure has only grown and she continuously finds herself drawn to books with an exhilarating plot and fascinating characters.

She currently lives in the historic town of Colchester, England, where she can indulge her passion for archaeology and history. Her greatest ambition is to own a medieval castle, complete with turrets, towers, a moat, and a drawbridge.

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