Of Magic and Rum (Beyond a Contemporary Mythos)

Chapter 26

After the seemingly unending string of incidents, it’s been days of blissful quiet on the seas. As much as I love adventure, the rare moments you can breathe and simply be are most appreciated. There have been times, much like now, when I sit on a barrel, watching Jack in his element. He rests his hands on the wheel, running his thumbs over the wood, and lifts his chin when a stronger breeze graces the deck. He’ll tilt his head toward the sun when the clouds part and never fails to gaze at the water when dolphin pods breach the surface. Jack Rackham is one of the most fascinating mortals I’ve ever met. And I get to call him mine .

Truffles has been spending more time on deck lately, and we have Laust to thank for this. The two of them have become nearly inseparable except when they wish to nap and fight over the prime spot, also known as my lap . Laust won today and curled himself into a ball atop my thighs. His tail wraps around his torso, and his hands are tucked into his chest to keep his claws from accidentally scratching me.

As usual, Aranck keeps to himself in a corner, mixing and organizing his herbs. It dawns on me that I’ve never had the chance to introduce myself to him formally, let alone have an entire conversation. Carefully cradling Laust in the crook of my arm, I approach Aranck and nudge my chin at his stone bowl. “May I ask what you’re making?”

Aranck lifts his dark eyes to mine, a familiarity settling there like we’ve talked numerous times before this. “A mix of ashwagandha and turmeric. I am using what I have left from my supplies to make a healing salve. I get the feeling we will need it.”

One of Laust’s legs falls, his hoof dangling from my arm. “That’s a bit ominous.”

“Perhaps, but the odds are against us. We have no choice but to enter English waters, and there is a great chance we will fight for our lives.” Aranck’s squared jaw tightens as he grinds the herbs with extra force.

It astonishes me that Aranck hasn’t even glanced at the imp snoring in my arms. His intense fixation on tasks impresses me.

“Not that I’m not thankful for your talents aboard the ship, but I’ve been curious why you chose a pirate crew?” I continue to watch him working with the herbs, dusting his hands on his trousers before grabbing something different. The way he moves so meticulously is mesmerizing.

A smile cracks his usual stoic face, and Aranck nudges his head behind me. “Jack is the biggest reason, honestly.”

“Jack?” My brows launch skyward, and I point at the ship’s wheel. “Jack Rackham?”

The grin continues, and Aranck pauses what he’s doing, resting his palms on the barrel he’s been using as a table. “Yes. Before he earned the title of captain, he spent some time with my people, the Cayuga. He had been sailing for months searching for a crew and docked at the first land he came across—our land.”

As much as I know about Jack, this extra information makes me feel even more for him. I steal glances at the pirate captain during Aranck’s story.

“We became quick friends, and I told him I desired to see more than the same lands. I wished to see oceans, seas, and beyond, and that is when he offered to take me on as part of his crew. I gave him the ink markings on his left arm in gratitude.”

“You were one of the first?”

He nods. “Yes. Me, Duke, and then Ragnar. We were also a part of the mutiny that replaced Jack as captain over Vane.” Aranck shakes his head and returns to his herbs, his jaw setting. “That man was far too cruel for no reason. And I knew Jack would not be such a tyrannous leader.”

Now, the feud between Charles and Jack makes more sense.

“I—” I start, ready to ask more questions, but I’m interrupted by the furious clanging bell alarm from the crow’s nest.

Squid points to the north, and in the hazy distance, a ship appears with radiant white sails—an enormous ship. Even from this distance, its sheer size has my heart thundering in my chest.

Aranck hastily gathers his supplies. “Prepare yourself, Anne. This will get worse before it gets better.”

The deck becomes a sea of chaotic activity, Jack and Ragnar barking orders to the crew. I’m sprinting with a bouncing Laust in the crook of my arm, and in just that short amount of time, the ship has gotten close enough that I can make out the red flag flapping from the mast—the Royal Navy.

Jack lifts a spyglass to his eye and curses under his breath. “It’s The Ambition.”

Duke jerks his head. “We’re never going to be able to outrun them, Rackham. We barely out-gun them.”

“We’re going to damn well try.” Jack collapses the spyglass and hangs it from his belt. “This girl has a few tricks up her sleeve.” He trails his fingers over the ship’s wheel.

“Jack, if we turn back now, we may be able to lose them when the wind picks up at our backs.” Duke lowers his voice to say this, his mouth near Jack’s ear.

“Since when do I retreat with my tail between my legs?” Jack does not lower his voice. “I’d much rather go down fighting versus rolling over and taking it in the ass. But we won’t go down.” He harshly yanks the wheel, banking the ship from going head-on with the other. “Pull in the sweeps,” Jack shouts over the roaring waves. “Red, handle the guns below deck. Read, be on those lines. I’m going to be maneuvering the fuck out of her.”

Laust has woken up and is now trembling in my arms. “Jack, where do you normally keep Truffles?”

“Take them to my quarters, then get your ass back here, Bonny. Going to need you on those upper deck cannons.” Jack’s face flashes a troubled expression. One that displays so much with so little—he’s frightened for my safety but knows this is part of being a crew.

I catapult to Jack’s cabin after scooping Truffles into my other arm. Securing them inside, fluffing pillows around them to hopefully block out some noise, I secure the door behind me and bolt to the deck. The British vessel has gotten seven ship lengths from us now and turns to give us its broadside.

“They’re getting in attack formation. Everyone, prepare to duck,” Jack barks, grunting and gritting his teeth as he keeps our side from paralleling theirs.

Duke and another crewmate are ready at one cannon. Ragnar waves me over to one several down from theirs.

“I’ll load. You fire. Got it?” Ragnar points at a pile of cannonballs.

Nodding and forcing away a nervous lump forming in my throat because I’ve never participated in warfare like this, I duck my head and grip the railing for dear life.

“When I say fire, you give it all you got,” Jack orders. “Aim for the stern and the rigging. I want that ship stuck in the middle of the fucking ocean. Everyone understand?”

Mary shoves one crewmember away from the ropes and grabs it herself. “You keep being one step behind like that, you arse, and you’re going to hang yourself accidentally.”

Squid shimmies down the mast to the upper deck before the naval ship fires. With Jack’s maneuvering, he’s kept us at a distance, and the shot lands in the water, sending a spraying geyser near the bow.

“Ready yourselves.” Jack furiously works his hands over the pegs, turning our broadside to the massive British frigate. “Fire!”

The sky becomes a barrage of smoke as cannons from both decks fire at the naval ship. Most miss because it’s nearly impossible to aim with these damn things, but one successfully slams into the rigging, taking several ropes with it. Several more could take out the mast if we time it right. Jack narrows his eyes, waiting for the smoke to clear, and his face falls, quickly turning our ship in the other direction.

As two cannonballs launch into the lower decks, the ship lurches and rocks. There’s a loud splash as one of our cannons falls into the water. Hundreds of pieces of wood float in the ocean now, and the sight ignites something in Jack. He moves us into an attack position instead of turning our broadside away from them.

“Forget the rigging. Aim for the goddamned stern. That’s where most of the officers will be.” A steeliness settles over Jack, a sneer bouncing in his lip when the naval ship’s flag comes into prime view. “Fire! Fire!”

Both ships are launching cannons at the other now. Each blast from The Revenge sends sprays of splintering wood cascading around the English ship. Most are somehow missing us or barely grazing the hull. One slams into the railing near me, and I squint at the wooden projectiles the splinters become, blocking my face with an arm. We fire over a dozen rounds at the stern before the rudder becomes unusable. A grin as wide as the Baltic Sea spreads Jack’s lips, and he hurls the wheel back in the direction we’d been heading before the Navy’s interruption. Relief washes over me because I half expected him to command us to board the ship. But no, Jack had intended to incapacitate them so we could continue our journey in peace. I adore him for that.

Cheers echo along the deck, and Mary slams into me, hugging me and Ragnar to her sides. “Good shooting, you two.” Cloth curls Mary’s palms, light blood stains on them from rope burn.

I pry away long enough from the brief victorious moment to scan the crew. Aranck was right. We’d gotten away from them—for now. But it didn’t come without a price. Several crew members suffered scrapes and bruises, or were impaled by shrapnel. One lies motionless in an ever-growing pool of blood beneath him, which lurks closer to my boot.

“Duke,” Jack bellows.

The anguish in his voice makes my throat squeeze. No.

Turning, I run to a kneeling Jack with Duke propped in his arms. Blood spurts from his mouth, and he has so many splinters sticking from his chest and stomach that it’s a wonder he’s still breathing at all. Tears prick my eyes, and I slowly sink to my knees, helpless and hollow.

“Duke, you hold on until Aranck can take a look at you. You stubborn old bastard, can you hear me?” Jack shakes Duke, panic flaring as he looks for Aranck.

Duke chuckles and coughs, spraying more blood over his shirt and beard. “Jackie boy, if the cannon fire wouldn’t have gotten me, my body was close to doing it its damn self.”

“What?” Jack barks.

Duke winces in pain, and I stroke his sweat-stained forehead, hoping it’ll comfort him.

“Consumption. I’ve known by days were numbered for some time now.” Duke smiles at me and places a shaking hand on my thigh. “You take care of him, Anne. He’ll need you far more than he’ll be ready to admit.”

Jack sniffs once and holds Duke closer. “You knew, and you didn’t think to tell me? To prep?—”

“Jack,” Duke interrupts him. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to die a pirate and not some old man having a coughing fit on his deathbed. If you knew, you would’ve ordered me below deck instead of letting me fight. Don’t try and deny it, son.”

Son . The word strangles my heart.

“Have I ever told you I hate how you’re always right?” Jack cracks a small smile and wraps his jacket around Duke when he starts to shiver.

Aranck arrives but frowns, bowing his head, knowing he can do nothing for him. Mary, Ragnar, and most of the crew have gathered in a circle around us. No one wears a hat, and everyone is stone-cold and silent.

“You remember which direction is north?” Duke asks, his voice cracking.

Jack sniffs again, and his jaw tightens before he points to the sky.

A final chuckle floats from Duke’s throat. “Don’t get lost without me,” are his final words before his body stills and the light flickers from his eyes.

“Not possible,” Jack whispers, his head held low, Duke still cradled in his arms.

Tears roll down my cheeks. I’ve been around so much death, but never like this. Mortal demise, though a natural part of life, is depressingly poetic.

Mary kneels beside me, her eyes glistening with tears, but none fall. She reaches for Duke’s glasses, delicately slipping them from his nose. She folds the stems and slips them in her pocket. With a still hand, she closes Duke’s lids.

“I’m so sorry, Jack,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say.

Jack’s sadness turns into irritation in a blink, and he clings to Duke. “You didn’t do this. What do you have to be sorry about?”

“I know he was like a father to you. I’m just sorr—”I rest my palm on Jack’s cheek and stop myself from apologizing again.

Jack softens against my touch but goes rigid moments later. “No. He was a father to me. Just one more fucking thing England has taken from me.”

I know that look in his eye. He’s going to want revenge. He’ll crave it at any cost.

“Jack, let yourself grieve before you think what you’re thinking.”

Jack rests Duke on the deck and slowly rises. “Prep him for a water burial. Come get me when you’re done.”

Jack takes one final look at Duke before he turns from us and heads toward his cabin. I chase after him, wishing nothing more than to comfort him, to offer an ear or a shoulder. But when I follow him into his quarters, he doesn’t so much as glance at me before slamming the door behind him.