Lin had been in her mid-twenties when she met Slate. She’d have been born in 1841, or thereabouts.
I lifted my head, the breeze cold on my face. Salt dripped into my eyes as I treaded water for a long, still moment. Then I plunged below the surface, twisting in the cool clean water, holding my breath until it hurt, until my lungs clenched like fists, until I could not concentrate on anything else.
I burst into the night air and took a painful breath that cleansed like fire. Then I heard a short laugh from above. I blinked away the saltwater; there was Kash at the rail. “You were under so long I thought you’d drowned!”
“No such luck!” I called back.
“I’m beginning to think I’ll never inherit that hammock.”
I climbed up the ladder at the stern. The night breeze gave me gooseflesh after the warmth of the water. Kashmir met me on the quarterdeck with a thick towel. His own hair was still damp, and he’d changed into a fresh shirt. He started to wrap the towel around me, then he winced.
“Your shoulder.”
I glanced at the ugly purple bruise and made a face. “You know, you shouldn’t spy on a lady bathing.”
“Reconnoiter is a better word,” he replied easily. “Besides, it’s not a bath unless you use soap. You should try it.”
“I thought I smelled something strange.” I sniffed him; he smelled of bitter almond. Then I squeezed my hair into the towel. “Maybe someday,” I said, starting toward the hatch, but as I stepped away, Kashmir caught my arm.
“Amira—”
“Yes?”
“Are you really all right? You seem . . . distant.”
When the answer came to me, it was not a lie. “I’m fine.”
His eyes searched mine. “I . . . you did very well at the helm. I am—amazed.”
Pride, like a mouthful of sweet wine. “Thank you, Kash.”
“The captain was wrong,” he called after me. “You belong on a ship.” But it very nearly sounded like a question.
I went downstairs to find fresh clothes. As I pawed through the trunk, I caught sight of the map of Carthage, waiting for me. I pushed a jacket over it. Then I dressed and took a moment to look at myself in the mirror. My own eyes stared back.
It was only when I was leaving the room that I noticed Swag was not in his bucket.
I refilled the pail with fresh water and put out another dish of pearls, but he did not return that evening, and at dawn the next day, I emptied the bucket back into the sea.
At sunrise, we sailed into Hana’uma Bay, escorted by a pod of dolphins, and we dropped anchor in the still, protected waters while they played tag between the hulls. Honolulu Harbor wasn’t an option; if we were inspected, I could not think of a single way to explain the silent terra-cotta warriors or the ancient junk to the harbor master, or to anyone else.
Hana’uma Bay was thankfully deserted. Someday Elvis Presley would stand there on the beach in the movie Blue Hawaii, but in 1884, the entire bay was still part of the estate of Princess Pauahi, and no one dared to swim or fish on the royal beach without permission. The water was pristine; peering over the rail, I could see the bright colors of the fish shimmering in the coral twenty feet down.
Slate had risen early in the morning with his disgusting coffee and a distracted air. “It’s going to be a long hike to Honolulu,” he said to me.
“Yeah.” I sighed, pushing away from the rail. I knew what was coming.
“I want you and Kashmir to make final preparations, so we can set a day to . . . to conclude the transaction.”
“Right.” I watched him blow the steam off his coffee. “Any preferences?”
“D and Kashmir can work the schedule out between them. Oh, and find a place to hide the treasure. Not on the beach like some cut-rate pirate story. The erosion will expose it too quickly.”
I licked my lips. Since my outburst in the tomb, I had been considering where we’d leave the gold. “I already know a place.”
“Really?”
“I promised to help, didn’t I?”
He nodded. “Okay. Good. The trip to Honolulu is twelve miles or so, and the terrain’s not easy. It may take you a whole day. Bring supplies, and enough money for lodging and so forth. You’ll need to stay in town until you hear from Mr. D.”
“Aye, Captain.” I started downstairs to make ready, but he called me back. “Yes?”
He was quiet for long enough I almost turned again to leave, but then he smiled at me. “You did good, Nixie.”
Something in my chest came loose like a knot slipping, and I smiled back, so wide it hurt. “Thanks, Dad.”
He leaned close, as though he were about to tell me a secret. “I always find—for me—knowing I have a . . . an escape . . . makes a situation less difficult. I am hoping, now you know you have an alternative, we might keep course together awhile longer.”