Grateful for his friend’s optimistic presence, Teach remembered another talk he’d had with John in the captain’s cabin of the Deliverance back in Bristol. Someone had accused Teach of piracy, and John had vowed then he would do everything in his power to make sure nothing happened to Teach.
“You’re a good friend, John. I’m lucky to know you.”
“Me and the crew feel the same about you. Now go find that chest.”
Teach made his way down the stairs to the weather deck, where the wounded were spread out, reminding Teach of pieces of leather drying under the sun. One of the men called to Teach as he passed and Teach knelt beside him. “Are you thirsty?” Teach asked, grabbing a nearby jug filled with brandy. The water had turned brackish in the heat, and they had been forced to dilute the brandy with it, to extend their supply.
The man clutched Teach’s wrist and sipped greedily from the mug. “The pain. I need something for the pain,” the man choked out, once he’d swallowed.
“As soon as we get to port, I’ll make sure you get something for the pain.”
With a solemn nod, the man closed his eyes, his chest expanding with each labored breath. Wishing there was something more he could do, but knowing he couldn’t do a thing until they reached land, Teach stood with a muttered oath. The men had fought valiantly. They didn’t deserve to suffer like this.
Heading in the direction of the captain’s cabin, he threw open the door, only to stop short when he saw Peter already there, taking some papers from the desk and stuffing them in the pocket of his waistcoat. In Peter’s left hand was Teach’s copy of Dampier’s book. Peter looked up, startled, and his face turned a furious shade of red.
“What are you doing here?” Teach demanded, his temper already frayed.
“Nothing.”
Teach’s eyes narrowed at the sullen expression on Peter’s face. “Then why are you taking those papers? They don’t belong to you.”
“They don’t belong to you, either. The only reason you’re captain is because you disobeyed Murrell’s orders.”
It was just as Teach had feared. If they managed to reach port, Peter would be trouble. Teach would have to tread carefully, so as not to anger him further. Teach spoke calmly, even though his every muscle clenched in anticipation of giving Peter a thorough thrashing.
“Despite what you think, I didn’t want Murrell to die like that.”
“But you did want him to die,” Peter sneered.
True. Grinding his teeth, Teach barely managed to stay in one spot. The desire to drive his fist into Peter’s smug countenance was overwhelming. “Get out.”
For a moment, Peter didn’t move.
“Leave the book,” Teach said.
Flushing angrily, Peter threw the book on the floor before stalking toward the door.
“The papers as well.”
“I think I’ll keep—” Peter cried out as his back hit the wall, Teach’s arm pressing against his windpipe.
Teach ripped the papers out of Peter’s pocket. The cargo list of the Deliverance. “Why were you taking these?”
Peter didn’t answer and Teach increased the pressure on his throat.
“I asked what you what you were doing with these?”
“I’ll see you hang before I answer to you,” Peter choked out, his eyes bulging from lack of air. “Once we get to port, you’ll be charged with mutiny.”
Teach brought his face close, his jaw clenched. “A dead man tells no tales.”
“Is everything all right?” John asked from the door.
“Fine,” Teach ground out. Although Peter hadn’t answered his question, Teach knew what Peter had planned, and it made Teach sick to realize he’d had the same thought. He tried to tell himself that his desire to sell the cargo was different from Peter’s. Peter simply wanted to sell it for his own personal gain, whereas Teach hoped to pay his men and continue his search for Anne.
Slowly, Teach loosened his hold. Peter gasped and jerked out of reach. Backing out of the room, Peter stumbled down the hallway before the sound of his footsteps disappeared.
John gave a low whistle. “What was that all about?”
Teach held up the cargo list. “This.”
“What did he want with that? Did you ask him to check what was lost during the fight?”
“No. I think he was hoping to sell some of it when we reach port.”
“How? Merchants are expecting their goods. They paid for their transport.”
Teach didn’t want to tell John that he’d contemplated doing exactly what Peter had considered. Yes, the Deliverance was well-known and recognizable, but there were always people willing to bend the rules or break the law in order to make a profit. It was only a question of finding them. And Teach figured breaking the rules was worth it in order to pay his crew and find Anne.
“Keep an eye on Peter,” Teach said, sitting in the chair behind the desk.
“Aye, Captain.” John turned to leave, but hesitated. “Before I forget, I wanted to tell you that we lost another water barrel. The cooper discovered too late that there was a hole in it.”
With a sigh of resignation, Teach shook his head. “Cut the water rations in half.”
John nodded and closed the door quietly behind him.
CHAPTER 7
Anne
A sheen of sweat coated Anne’s skin, and for a half moment she wondered if her sore muscles and tight skin were the result of some illness she’d caught. Surely if she closed her eyes again, she’d awaken to find herself still in Bristol in Drummond’s house. Her dream had been so vivid, so real.
Teach, with his dark hair and vibrant green eyes, was a figment of a fevered imagination. But as Anne rested her wrist across her eyes, blocking out the sun, she realized that Margery would never have allowed her to sleep till the sky was full bright.
Anne sat up, the heat oppressive in the strange room. She was alone. Everything came rushing back. Leaving England and sailing on the nightmare that was the Providence. Arriving in Nassau, the loud and crowded streets. The man falling with a knife embedded in his chest. Her surroundings were surreal, and she felt completely out of her element. But this was no dream.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she spied a small tub filled with water. A clean chemise, blouse, and skirt had all been laid out for her.
With a grimace, Anne shed every last stitch of clothing, tempted to set a flame to the salt-encrusted material. As she bathed, she marveled that she hadn’t heard anyone enter or leave the room. Where was Cara?