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qqueenofhades · 7 years ago

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The Rose and Thorn: Chapter XVI

summary: Sequel to The Dark Horizon. The New World, 1740: Killian and Emma Jones have lived in peace with their family for many years, their pirate past long behind them. But with English wars, Spanish plots, rumors of a second Jacobite rising, and the secret of the lost treasure of Skeleton Island, they and their son and daughter are in for a dangerous new adventure. OUAT/Black Sails. rating: M status: WIP available: FF.net and AO3 previous: chapter XV

From the mouth of the harbor, Nassau looked both as if no time had passed at all since their long-ago departure, and a land too strange for any hope of recognizance. Emma had at least last seen it when she and Killian were leaving after the battle, but Flint and Miranda had not seen it since Flint’s duel against Blackbeard for command of the fleet and Miranda’s departure to the Maroons’ island. It had been their home for ten years, but its memories were far from unqualifiedly pleasant, and both of them were white-knuckling the railing as the ship started the approach. The closer they got to New Providence, the more abstracted they had become, until Emma thought she could set off a firework in front of them and not get more than a twitch. Still, it was bordering on surreal for her as well: pirate ships replaced by merchant galleys rocking sedately at anchor, the place looking altogether more smartly groomed and respectable than she had ever seen it, and – causing Flint to growl out loud – the Union Jack flapping proudly over the city. “Look at that,” he said furiously. “Woodes fucking Rogers still won in the end, didn’t he? Someone should tear that rag down and remind them what we – ”

“James, no.” Miranda sounded almost on the verge of tears, enough to make Flint and Emma look concernedly at her. “I can’t say I appreciate the sight much more than you, but promise me, promise me, you will remember who we are here to find, and to fight. This is dangerous enough. Don’t toss tinder on the blaze.”

Flint made a noise in his throat that clearly said as far as he was concerned, any fanning which might accidentally occur was not, of course, his fault. It had been a thankfully quick and uncomplicated voyage from Philadelphia, but now they had to reckon with the dread prospect of actually facing their past, and nothing more to put it off. The first order of business was to get ashore, find Charlie, and locate suitable lodging for Violet and the children, who were already somewhat unimpressed at the prospect of being uprooted once more from Philadelphia, where they had only just arrived, and shuffled off to Nassau for what seemed likely to be the winter at least. But as it was better than remaining behind alone and being exposed to any potential future assassins, they had agreed, and Richard was already of the conviction that it would be a fabulous adventure to see the pirates’ old hideout for himself. Utterly oblivious to the adults’ discomfort, he swung on Emma’s hand. “We’re almost there then, Grandma?”

“Yes, kid. Almost.” Emma smiled down at him; he looked very much as Henry had at eight. Or at least as she assumed he had, as she hadn’t seen him between the ages of five and eleven, had been here pirating, sending the money to him and Charlie in Virginia. God, this was strange. She didn’t have quite as visceral a reaction as Flint to seeing the Union Jack, but it rubbed her the wrong way nevertheless, in a way she had not expected. Nassau was different now, and if they had changed it, how they had changed it, and what they were about to face as a result, remained an unsettling, elusive mystery.

They reached the quays soon after, and the hands threw out ropes to tie up. David was of course the owner of the vastly profitable interests on the island that Charlie managed for him, and swiftly persuaded the otherwise extremely zealous port master that the berthing tariffs could be skipped. Flint watched with an expression somewhere between admiration and outrage, as time was it was him who would play by his own rules here, be the captain greeted in respect and wariness. As the port master strode off to tax some other unfortunate, wig brimming with self-righteousness, Flint put a hand to the pistol in his jacket and muttered, “I could still shoot him from here.”

One look from Miranda was enough to disabuse him of that notion, and once everyone had collected their things, they traipsed down the gangplank, Flint offering a polite hand to his wife, his daughter, his granddaughter-in-law, and Charlotte in turn. While he remained cautious of her presence, it was clear that she had impressed him, and she and Miranda had had a few quiet conversations on the trip down that had settled, more or less, Flint’s suspicion of her sincerity. Emma was in fact quite curious what exactly Charlotte had said to Miranda to convince them, but at least it was preferable to Flint glaring and breathing down her neck at every turn. Once Henry, bringing up the rear of the party of ten – seven adults and three children – had reached the street with the rest, he said, “I’ll go find Uncle Charlie, it will be good to see him again. Violet, Richard, Lucy, and Cecilia can come with me, I’ll get them settled, and the rest of you can ask a few questions. And I do mean questions, Grandpa.”

Flint grunted noncommittally, and turned to Miranda. “You should go with them.”

“I’m not the one with a crack in my skull,” Miranda pointed out. “If we’re stepping aside on grounds of infirmity, surely that includes you?”

“What?” Flint was startled. “No, I can’t. But – ”

Miranda gave him another look, this one the quiet, shrewd brown gaze that meant while she appreciated his concern for her safety, she knew that he was trying to send her away so he would have more scope to approach this reunion however he wanted, and she was not going to turn a blind eye, whether to protecting him from Nassau or protecting Nassau from him. Her deep-grained anger at him for nearly getting himself killed like an idiot remained apparent, especially as Flint seemed set to follow it up by restarting the entire war. There was an awkward pause as they silently challenged each other, two formidably strong-willed and stubborn people who had been married for a very long time, and finally Miranda, with a significant look at Emma and Charlotte clearly deputizing them in her place, said, “Very well, I’ll go with Henry and the others. I am quite fatigued. I’ll see you tonight, with no more damage.”

“No more,” Flint agreed, and bent to kiss her cheek quickly; Miranda let him, though with a slight stiffness to warn him that he had not permanently won the argument. Then she set off with Henry, Violet, and the children, and Flint, Emma, Charlotte, and David continued up the street to the main square. At least nobody was running to shout that the terrible Captain Flint had returned, though perhaps Flint almost wanted them to, to prove that the potency of his legend remained intact. He kept glancing around as if expecting one of their old associates to pop up like a toadstool after a hard rain, to the point that Emma felt sure he would never have agreed to this if there was any chance Silver was still present. Of course, it was not necessarily any better that Silver had attached himself to Thomas and Geneva, but at least it precluded the possibility of a face-to-face meeting – for the moment. Once again, the urge to press for details on Skeleton Island arose, what Silver could have possibly done or said to destroy their entire relationship in an instant, how they could remain in such wariness and damage over each other even now, but Flint would have become more tight-lipped than ever. This was utterly bizarre.

David cleared his throat, startling both of them. “We could find some of my warehouses,” he suggested. “Though the others are likely at Charlie’s office already, so – ”

“No,” Flint said. “Max is still here, isn’t she?”

David blinked. “Max? Yes, she’s the factor of the island, she works with Madi Scott. Were you friends?”

Flint barked a laugh. “I’d say that was a stretch. But we knew each other, at least, and I’d rather talk to one of the old crowd than any of these new stuffed-shirt English pricks. Besides, she’s the one who can start shaking cobwebs to see what spiders fall out. Come on.”

It took some searching, but they finally found Max’s place of residence, were showed in, and told to wait while the maidservant went to fetch her. Max had indirectly helped Emma rescue Killian when he was being tortured by Rogers and Jennings, and they’d never had any personal animus – they’d done business of a sort when Emma worked with Eleanor, and several members of the Blackbird’s crew had been regular customers at Max’s brothel. As well, Max and Charlie had been business partners for years, so there had to be at least the chance for a somewhat favorable reception. But she had always been independent, enigmatic, and hard-nosed, caring deeply for her friends but not easily forgiving of slights, nor unduly moved by pity or sympathy. If they were going to convince her to do something as dangerous as smoke out Robert Gold for them, they would have to earn it.

At last, the door opened, and Max appeared: a striking woman with dark braids streaked in silver, a line or two around her eyes, but otherwise looking much as she had. They had given their names to the maidservant, so as to provide her some advance warning, but it was clear from the expression on her face that she had not quite believed it. She tilted her chin back and regarded Flint piercingly, glanced at Emma, and then finally said, “So it is you. I did not expect that either of you would ever return to this place.”

“We were not planning to, believe me.” Emma smiled awkwardly. “You’ll know David Nolan?”

“I will,” Max said, coolly polite. “We have done business. Who is this?”

“Charlotte Bell.” Charlotte stepped forward. “What shall I call you?”

Max looked at her for a slightly long moment, then smiled in turn. “Only Max. Everyone does. You have not, I think, been to Nassau before?”

“No,” Charlotte said. “I’m looking for my husband.”

A brief hint of what might have been disappointment flickered in Max’s eyes, but was gone almost at once. “And have all of you also come to look for her husband?”

“Er, no,” Emma said. “We’re actually looking for mine as well.”

Max’s expression said that in her opinion, if women were to go to the bother of encumbering themselves with husbands, they should at least keep track of them properly. “I met your daughter Geneva, a few months ago. She left here with Madi, and with John Silver. Did you know that?”

“Yes. Unfortunately. But that is one of our lesser problems at the moment. I am sure you remember Robert Gold?”

“I do, yes.” Max’s kohl-lined gaze remained inscrutable. “Why?”

“Have you heard anything about him being back? In the Caribbean somewhere? We think he’s behind some troubling recent events, and we’d like to find him. Apparently the new governor of Charlestown, Lord Gideon Murray, is his son. We’ve had entanglements with him too.”

Max raised an eyebrow, as if impressed by the mischief they had managed to get into in just a span of weeks. “I would have expected that you had learned long ago not to meddle with Charlestown.”

“It’s complicated.” As usual, Emma thought, that was underselling it. “One other question. What do you know about Billy Bones?”

“Only what I told your daughter. That a half-mad sailor by the name of Gunn claimed he was alive, had been in Charlestown recently, and then set sail for England. That, perhaps, is why you decided to risk the trip?”

“Among other reasons, yes, but we didn’t hear about him until we were already there. Where is this Gunn? May we speak to him?”

“He is dead. So no, you may not.”

Emma sighed. “Billy met with Lord Murray in Charlestown, but Murray wasn’t the one to tell him about us in the first place. There was some secondary plot with his adopted mother – well, his aunt, Gold’s sister, Lady Fiona Murray. I think Gold told Billy that we were alive, and promised revenge on him – ” she tilted her head at Flint, who looked insulted that anyone would want revenge on him – “if Billy cooperated. But Billy decided to double-cross him and sell the information about Skeleton Island to Lady Fiona instead, Gold’s principal rival. Billy never forgets anyone who’s wronged him, and Gold was a dangerous enemy to all of us. So now Gold’s agents are trying to kill us, partly because that was his bargain with Billy and partly because he just wants to. But Billy is really working with Lady Fiona, not Gold, because he wants Gold and Flint dead. And as complicated as all of this is, it doesn’t make sense unless Gold is alive and actively involved. There are too many connections for him not to be. His son, his sister, his old enemies, his unfinished business. So. . .”

Everyone looked unsure whether to be impressed with Emma for putting all of this together, or to ask her to run it through again from the start, more slowly. It took Max a few moments, but she seemed to follow the thread. “And how do the missing husbands factor into all this?”

“Charlotte’s husband is named Jack, he. . . has connections among the Spanish. As for mine, Lord Murray kidnapped Killian trying to force us to cooperate. He also wants the Skeleton Island treasure, though in his case it’s because he seems to be a Jacobite.”

“An impressive tangle,” Max said. “It reminds me of the old days, everyone working for their own purposes and motives, in expectation of their own reward. Well. I will make some enquiries. I assume you are suitably lodged?”

“We’ll be along to my brother Charlie, yes.” Emma was ready to stay in one place for a while after all this traveling, not that she thought it was terribly likely. “Thank you. Is there anything we can do in return?”

“I am no more eager to see Robert Gold returned to power than you,” Max said, after a pause. “Nor am I eager to see everything that Madi and I have built over these years be overturned by an act of recklessness – ” her eyes lingered pointedly on Flint – “especially from one who feels that his old mastery has been challenged or, as he would see it, usurped. You do not rule in Nassau any longer, Captain. It is best for all concerned if no one ever knows you were here. You are merely James so long as you are on these shores, and I expect you to remember that. If I am to ask about Gold for you, you will repay me by keeping order in my streets.”

“We can manage that.” Emma dug an elbow into Flint’s ribs. “Thank you, again.”

Max nodded regally, clearly signaling that the audience was at an end, and turned to leave in a sweep of skirts. Dismissed, Flint, Emma, David, and Charlotte left the house, the latter openly admiring. “She runs this place? She’s amazing! A woman like – like her can be that powerful? It’s wonderful.”

Flint ignored this, clearly still feeling rather chafed, but Emma smiled wryly. “Aye, that’s Max. I think she liked you too.”

Charlotte blushed a delicate shade of pink, and seemed to be resisting the urge for further questions as they made their way down the street in the early evening light. David steered them to Charlie’s office, where they were informed that Mr. Swan had gone home early to deal with an unexpected invasion of family, and perforce removed after him. Finally they reached his handsome half-timbered townhouse, knocked, and shortly thereafter, Emma was being warmly hugged by her little brother for the first time in years. “You finally decided to visit me here? I thought you never would!”

Emma felt a brief pang of guilt, thinking of how she had avoided returning to Charlie in Nassau, and Killian had avoided returning to Liam in Paris. For different reasons, but still. “Well, here we are, we’ve brought the whole lot. Except for Killian and our children, unfortunately, but then, you saw Geneva earlier, didn’t you?”

Charlie squirmed. “Look – Emma – you know I wouldn’t have asked her if I could have avoided it, but the situation with Mr. Silver was quite. . . it was quite. . .”

“Oh, I’m sure it was,” Flint remarked coolly, surveying Charlie with a gimlet eye. “Mr. Silver has outwitted and outplayed men far cleverer than you, so you never stood a chance. I suppose stupidity can excuse you once, but if Thomas and Jenny come to any harm on your fool errand, you can be quite sure that promise is null and void.”

“James, for heaven’s sake!” There was something in Miranda’s voice that went beyond her usual brisk managing of him, something sharp and raw and truly furious. “Perhaps you could at least pay your compliments to our host before you commence threatening him to his face? Or is even that bare bit of decency too much to expect from you?”

Everyone looked around at her in surprise and consternation, and even Miranda seemed taken aback by her outburst. Then, with a considerable and visible effort, she pulled herself together and smiled apologetically – at least with her mouth, as it did not touch her eyes. “Please do forgive me. I’m not hungry, I think I’ll go to bed. Oh, and James? Do feel free to sleep in another room tonight.”

With that, she picked up her cane and walked sharply away. Flint started after her, a look of deep distress on his face, but David got to his feet and caught him by the arm. “Hey, mate. I’m sure there’s somewhere to put you up in mine. I think she needs some space tonight.”

Flint looked as if he might reprimand David for presuming they were mates, but even he seemed aware that he could do with a bit of marital advice – as well as friendly male companionship, as that was the role Killian usually filled for him, and Emma knew that Flint missed him much more than he wanted to let on. If Flint could restrain from biting David’s head off, he might even learn something valuable, and since he had established a working détente with Charlotte, it would be useful for that next to extend to David. Emma did love her adoptive father very much, but “people person” had never appeared on any list of his positive qualities.

They managed to find enough space in Charlie’s spare rooms for the ten of them, but it was a tight fit, and it was clear that if they were going to stay more than a few days, they would need a second arrangement. Nonetheless, they woke up the next morning refreshingly un-murdered, and over breakfast, made plans to go out and turn over a few stones of their own. Nothing overt or openly shit-stirring, but none of them took well to sitting and waiting for others to do work for them, and if they could give Max’s efforts a nudge or two, so much the better. Miranda was once again cordial, though her eyes were red, and she did not permit Flint to kiss her cheek before he departed. She turned and followed the children out to the back porch without a second look.

“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” Flint asked Emma in an undertone as they, David, and Charlotte set out into the bright morning. “Is it still me getting myself wounded that she’s angry about, or is it something else?”

“It’s. . . that, yes, but there’s more to it.” Emma debated how much she should reveal, and what Miranda would want kept confidential, even from her husband. “She’s worried, she’s worried about Thomas, she’s worried about you, she’s worried about the whole family, and she’s had to face first Charlestown and now Nassau in short order. Charlestown was more obviously terrible for both of you, but. . . Miranda’s life here was scarcely happy. Often alone, viewed as a witch by the townsfolk, struggling to care for you, feeling that all you saw was the war and Thomas’ absence and the injustice and the rage, having that burning desire for revenge herself, but only ever getting it indirectly, through you. Thinking it was enough and then some, and then hearing of Peter Ashe’s betrayal. Now to return, when you seem too willing to pick up the war and start from scratch. . .”

Flint looked somewhat chagrined. “I don’t want the war,” he said, after a moment. “I just want her and Thomas, I want them safe, I want them with me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And, of course, the rest of our family. Miranda has never stopped me before, from doing what is – ”

“I think she wonders if you know any way to keep them safe apart from the war,” Emma said quietly. “And no, she didn’t stop you from being Flint. But part of her cannot help but fear that she made a terrible mistake in standing aside and letting it go on as long as she did. Don’t do that to her again. She can’t bear it.”

Flint started to say something, then stopped. Finally he said, “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to find Gold, and only that, I swear. If nothing else, I did learn that I cannot fight the way I used to. But we can’t just let him – ”

“No, we can’t. But Miranda has already had so much taken from her, and borne it. But she can’t lose you one more time, and survive. Not after. . .” Emma paused. “Especially not after Sam.”

Flint flinched at the name, knowing as always which Sam she meant. Not looking at her, he said, “That was years ago. It’s done with.”

“Yes,” Emma said. “And Miranda’s never spoken about it, not after the three of you were reunited. None of you have. She loved him so much, you know she did, and yet she did not say a word, if you would think it meant she loved Thomas less, or begrudged that it was him, and not Sam, that you two returned to. And it might be years ago, but none of us have grieved it properly. It was too much, too huge, too impossible, so we. . . we shut it away and got on with it, the way all of us always have. But I don’t think that’s working anymore.”

Flint did not answer. Emma, stealing a sidelong look at him, thought his eyes might be slightly wet. But perhaps it was only a trick of the sunlight, for it was gone when she looked back. Then at last Flint said, “I would not give Thomas back for the world, no. But Sam, he. . . he was unique. There was no one like him, whether before or since. And I wish I had seen it back then, not merely in flashes and bits and brief moments. I wish I had been able to. But I wasn’t, and I didn’t, and. . . there was so much neither of us ever told him. Perhaps I hope that with enough time, I will forget those words. Instead, I only remember them more keenly.”

It was Emma’s turn to be caught off guard. Finally she said, “Then you should talk with Miranda about this. It’s not dishonoring Thomas if you do, you know. I don’t know him quite as well as you, but I’m sure he’d understand.”

“It’s not Thomas’ reaction I’m worried about,” Flint said, very softly. “Not entirely.”

Emma looked up at him, grasping in some unspeakably poignant way that Flint feared that Miranda wished she had in fact died, that she had gone to be with Sam and at peace, rather than suffer the continued trials and misfortunes and disappointments of loving him. That if it was at all possible, she would choose Sam over him, and that she would be justified in doing so, if he could not try harder, could not give her what she needed so sorely, and patiently, silently gone without for so long. That he thought he understood, at last, why she was so angry, and would give anything to make it so that he had not.

Neither of them said anything after that, concentrating more than necessary on reaching the docks. David went off to find some of the merchants who sailed for the Nolan interests, and Flint, Emma, and Charlotte began to search for any new arrivals from elsewhere in the Caribbean, who might have heard or seen something at their ports of origin. After a bit, they spotted a small trading sloop flying Portuguese colors, and since it would be able to get into places that an English ship could not, they decided it worthwhile to investigate. They went up, and Flint bellowed, “Hey! The captain!”

A pause, and then the presumable individual appeared on the deck above, trailed by a mangy cur of a dog. The man had the look of a genial, rough-cut scoundrel, though one who had not been enjoying his best days recently. There was yellowish bruising that suggested healing black eyes, a gash across the bridge of his nose, and other assorted injures. Nonetheless, he doffed his hat at Emma and Charlotte with somewhat spurious gallantry. “My ladies. What may I do for you? João da Souza, master of the Senaita, at your service.”

Flint cleared his throat. “I was the one who hailed you.”

“Ah, yes. I hoped you were not the port master, back to rob me again. They told me that this was no longer a haunt of pirates, but I am not sure I believe it.” The Portuguese captain cocked his head, considering Flint critically. “Do I know you? I feel as if I know you.”

“No,” Flint said. “Where did you come from, Da Souza?”

“I have told that fat man in the bad wig, I am telling you. . . why?”

“Because there may be a lot of money in it. Eh?”

All of them were expecting these to be the magic words, as they often were for gentlemen of fortune like João da Souza, but instead he raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I have recently spent some time on a similar venture, and it went – less than well. I nearly lost my command, in fact. Why exactly should I concern myself with you?”

“Look, you – ”

“Or in fact. . .” Some gear was turning behind Da Souza’s eyes, which Emma was not entirely sure she liked. “Perhaps you are already involved in it? I have recently arrived in Nassau, you see, on a tip from a boy. This boy claimed, of all the things, that he was the grandson of a certain famous pirate. And your face does look familiar, I am sure I have seen it on a wanted poster. Is it you then? Captain Flint?”

Everyone started badly, no one more than Emma. “Grandson?” she blurted out. “Did you – did you meet – ”

“You are the boy’s mother, I am wagering?” Da Souza smiled at her, picking his teeth with a finger. “He was a nice lad, your Sam.”

Emma’s feet felt frozen to the ground. She wasn’t sure how Da Souza could be lying about this, if he had not in fact met her younger son and Sam had been in an inconveniently talkative mood, whether to save his neck or some other reason. “He was a nice – what did you, I swear, if you – ”

“Calm down, calm down. There is no need for female hysterics.” Da Souza leaned on the rail. “I can describe him, if you doubt me. About nineteen, tall and very skinny, with black hair. No cleverness or subterfuge whatsoever, but more than enough of stubbornness. Oh, and his friend, a few years older and far smarter. He, I do not doubt, has already stabbed me in the back. Very much a temper, that Jack Bell.”

It was Charlotte’s turn to look stunned. “Wh – Jack is with you?”

“He’s with Sam?” Flint and Emma said in unison. “Where?”

Da Souza looked pleased at the effect of this little tidbit. “Yes, they were together. They were charged to find Skeleton Island, in fact, and Sam told me that it was near to Nassau. And here, of course, I find you. How fortunate.”

“I don’t care about Skeleton Island. Where is my son?”

“You laid one of those filthy fingers on my grandson,” Flint added, “and you – ”

“Pirates, pirates. Always with the threats. Yes, I know where your Sam is. I can take you to him. But I am not going back with an empty hold. If you were to provide me with, say, an inducement, I can tell you?”

“Jack,” Charlotte broke in. “Is Jack still with him?”

Da Souza shrugged. “As far as I know, yes. Jack was the one who caused that little disturbance for me, I will throw him in for free. What do you say?”

Flint, Emma, and Charlotte exchanged a wary look. It was unfortunately clear enough that Da Souza had in fact met Sam (and apparently, Jack), and thus they could not dismiss him out of hand. It was equally clear, however, that he planned to trick them into giving him something of value for the information, then turn around, stab them in the back, and be on his merry way. Flint and Emma were too used to scoundrels of his make to buy the apparent friendliness at face value, but if they could play his own game back on him, string him along enough to get him to reveal Sam’s location and what villainy he might have done with him, they could teach him a valuable life lesson about picking fights with full-grown pirates, and not merely their hapless offspring. If he had hurt Sam – but no. Emma was not going to think that.

Instead, she made herself smile as brightly as possible, until her teeth ached. “I see no reason not to accept your bargain. Can we meet tonight, then?”

Da Souza readily agreed that they could, and gave them the name of a tavern where they should present themselves at six o’clock that evening, if they wished to further this acquaintance. It was one that Flint and Emma did not know, having apparently been built after the pirates’ war, and she made a note to ask Charlie if there was anything unsavory associated with it that they should know about. With a final forced smile and nod to Da Souza, they departed.

The instant they were out of earshot, Flint dropped all pretense of civility. “That filthy, fucking, sniveling, groveling, cheating blackguard! Even if we did have a convenient chest of money to hand over, there’s no way I’d think it was a wise investment to give it to him. He’ll try to rob us blind and then get out while the getting is good, or he – ”

“I know,” Emma said wearily. “But he knows something about Sam.”

Flint paused on whatever else he had been about to say, snapped his mouth shut, and nodded curtly. “Even if so,” he added after a moment, “we’d need to go to the meeting – together, I did learn from my misadventure last time – prepared to shoot our way out of it, or whatever else would be necessary when it emerged that we were both deceiving the other. And against whatever thugs he’s certain to have backing him up, you and I – or even ourselves, Nolan, and Mrs. Bell – would not be much of a defense.”

“I can help,” Charlotte insisted, overhearing this. “I doubt anyone, especially a man like Da Souza, expects to be threatened by someone like me. That would be the element of surprise, at least.”

Flint gave her a grimly approving look. “You think like a soldier. Good. But I’m still not taking four people, including two men of grandfather age, one woman of similar, and you, against him and his miscreants. Aye, it could be he intends to peaceably negotiate and hand over the information, but I bloody doubt it. So – ”

“You can’t go canvassing for a new crew,” Emma interrupted, sensing where this train of thought might be going and determined to head it off at the pass. “We have to stay inconspicuous, remember? That was the bargain we made with Max. If we put it out that Captain Flint is recruiting new men – or that anyone is recruiting a pirate crew, when this place has been at peace for many years – it will raise hackles. Besides, if we walk in with a dozen berserkers armed to the teeth, Da Souza will know something’s awry. If it’s just us four, well, he’ll be more complacent. He won’t realize – at least at first – that we’re on to him.”

“I thought you were the one against carrying out dangerous missions single-handedly.” Flint sardonically indicated his still-bandaged skull. “Now I suggest getting help, and you’re against that too?”

“This is different,” Emma said. “You know it is.”

Flint grunted, as if everyone was determined to crush his dreams today, and maintained a rather standoffish silence the rest of the way back to the house. Upon hearing the news, Charlie announced that he had some money which they could use as a lure, reel Da Souza in close enough to administer the knockout punch. He hoped they would consider it some small repayment for his unfortunate part in sending Thomas and Geneva off with Mr. Silver, and as well, he had a few men who provided security for his warehouses and goods, who could unobtrusively accompany them to the rendezvous and burst in if they heard any sounds of a struggle. As for the tavern, it was known as the sort of place you went if you wanted a deal done below the notice of the law, with a proprietor who could be paid for selective blindness, a relic of Nassau’s olden days. Da Souza’s intentions might be benign, or might not, but either way, he did not want English interests interfering with them.

Emma looked at her brother gratefully, but Flint, who plainly felt that a great deal more remained to be forgiven, merely grunted again. He had just left the room when Miranda entered it. “What’s this? There’s a man who knows where Sam is?”

“We think he does,” Emma cautioned. “We’re working on a plan to finagle that information out of him, while not falling straight into whatever trap he thinks he’s setting. And of all the mad coincidences, we think Jack might be with Sam to boot.”

A brief, strange expression flickered across Miranda’s face at that, but she nodded composedly. “Well then, how fortuitous. That would make it easier for all of us, of course.”

“Do you…” Emma hesitated. “Do you think this is the right thing to do?”

“Your son’s life might be at stake. I certainly would not tell you to disregard that.” Miranda looked at her levelly. “But you and I both know that James is far more tempted to break his word to Max than he would admit to either of us. He hates returning to Nassau, hates seeing it like this, this reminder of flaws and failures. But he also still loves it, loves the memory of who he was here, the power he wielded, the terror he inspired, the shadow he cast. I rather suspect there is nothing he would like more than an out-and-out war with Da Souza, whether for Sam’s sake or otherwise. And I…” She hesitated. “I feel foolish, almost, for wondering if twenty years with myself and Thomas is enough to ever fully take that urge from him. If gentleness and ease will ever suffice to mend his soul altogether, if what James still needs, on some fundamental and unchanging level, is violence.”

Emma did not know what to say to that. She could not tell Miranda that she was mistaken, thinking of her own conversation with Flint earlier and what she had tried to explain to him about the cause of Miranda’s anger. They had all known that coming back here would be a challenge in more ways than one, reawakening old impulses that had been long buried, and Flint’s innate chaos-causing inclinations, like a cat that saw a beautiful vase on a high shelf and could not rest until it had knocked it to the floor. Finally Emma said, “If Da Souza does know where Sam is, and gives us the information, he can have any money he wants. If not, or if he’s hurt him in some way, Flint won’t be the only one who wants the war.”

Miranda absorbed this quietly, as if she had not expected another answer, nor blamed Emma for giving it, but could not help being hurt nonetheless. “You know,” she said after a moment. “If – God absolutely forbid – Sam was gone, if he – ”

“He’s not,” Emma said, with something close to panic. “He’s not.”

“Aye, of course not. But if he was. Killing Da Souza, giving rise to the renewed reign of Captain Flint, none of that – none of it would bring him back.”

Emma started to say something, then stopped. She had a feeling that Miranda was reminding herself as much as Emma, after what she had said earlier about being willing to burn down the world if it would bring Sam senior back to them – but it wouldn’t, and no amount of burning would change that. It was no wonder that Miranda would want to stop the rest of the family from plunging over the cliff into oblivion, in fruitless vengeance for Sam junior. It would not heal that hole, or save him as they could not save his namesake, but only rip it further. But the thought of that, of having to make that choice, of once more accepting that a Sam was lost, and this time her son, was unbearable.

“I’ll look after James,” Emma said at last. “You know I will.”

Miranda gave her a polite, remote smile. “I am sure you will, my dear. But as Juvenal said in his Satires, quis custodiet ipsos custodes?”

And with that, not waiting for Emma’s answer, she left.

The mood remained tense that evening. Miranda and Charlie had accepted Max’s invitation to supper, which they all suspected was a thinly disguised ruse to press them for more information about what they were really doing there and if their word could be trusted, but Miranda was the best at this sort of drawing-room diplomacy, and if it led them any closer to Gold, it could not be passed up. Henry and Violet stayed at the house with the children, and Flint, Emma, David, and Charlotte, after the addition of a few more weapons apiece, met up with Charlie’s guards, collected the money they were using to inveigle Da Souza, and headed off for the tavern.

Da Souza was not yet there when they arrived. They found a corner table among the rest of the slightly shifty-looking patrons (“Ah, nostalgia,” Flint remarked sourly) and settled in to wait, refusing drinks just in case; if there was going to be some sort of brawl, it was better to keep a clear head. Finally, just when it was late enough that they thought he wasn’t coming (and Flint had all sorts of comments on how “six o’clock” must not mean the same thing to the Portuguese), they spotted him come through the door, with a few henchmen in tow. He wended his way through the thinning crowd and smiled at them. “Ah, my friends. You are here.”

“Yes,” Flint said coldly. “And on time, unlike you.”

Da Souza shrugged. “Only a chance for a little business. You must not hold it against me. Shall we go somewhere a bit more private?”

“I imagine you’re already trying to fuck us in one way, nobody wants it in any other. So you can talk to us here, and now. Where’s my grandson?”

“Did you bring the money?”

Flint nodded at Emma, who pulled out the sack and threw it at Da Souza, not caring if it hit him in the head, but he snatched it expertly out of the air, weighed it in his hand, and then arched an eyebrow. “This is all your boy’s life is worth to you?”

Flint shifted in a way that meant he had reached for his gun under the table. “It’s more than you deserve. Well?”

Da Souza’s eyes followed the movement, and there was a brief, tense moment. Then the Portuguese captain smiled deferentially. “Of course. You are right. As a matter of fact, your son is nearby. Come.”

Flint and Emma were startled. “Sam’s here?”

“That’s what I said, is it not? Or unless you still do not wish to see him…”

After a pause and a sharp glare, they got to their feet, as Charlotte and David did the same. Da Souza held up a hand. “No, not them. Just you.”

Emma liked this less than ever, and was on the very point of turning and walking out, but the tiniest whisper of a chance, however absurd, that Sam was somewhere on the island stopped her. She glanced at Charlotte, who said, “Please, Captain, I should come too. If Jack is with him, perhaps I can talk some sense into him. I am just a girl, how could I be any threat to you?”

Da Souza considered, then shrugged again. “If you wish. We will leave your companion here to hold down the fort. Now then. Yes?”

With David left to glower suspiciously across the table at Da Souza’s minions, Flint, Emma, and Charlotte warily followed the captain himself out the back of the tavern, into the dark courtyard, and down the narrow, muddy alley. They walked for a few minutes, every nerve on screamingly high alert, until Da Souza beckoned them through a gate. “In here, please.”

Emma took a grip on her pistol beneath her jacket, as she saw Flint doing the same, unable to repress a terrified, desperate hope that its use would not be called for at all, and it would in fact be her son in there, somewhat baffled and battered but whole. Then with a sharp indrawn breath, they faced up to the breach, and, with Charlotte on their heels, plunged through.

Inside, there was another nondescript courtyard, closed in with whitewashed walls, as Emma’s eyes swept in every direction for Sam. Then there was a boom and a clank as the gates shut behind them, and Da Souza rammed in the bolt, turning back around with an expression of cold resolve, all assumed friendliness gone. “Where,” he said, “is Skeleton Island?”

“You fucking bastard,” Flint said. “Of course Sam isn’t here, is he.”

“No, he is not.” Da Souza seemed completely untroubled by this admission of bald-faced deceit. “But as I said. He is nearby. I can tell you, if you give me the bearings to Skeleton Island. I know you know them, and one measly sack of silver does not seem a fair price for the boy’s life. How much do you love him, really?”

“Plenty,” Flint said. “So you can offer some proof of this shit you’re spinning out of your arse, or I can just kill you right here and save us the trouble.”

Da Souza’s smirk said that he did not think this senior citizen had any likelihood of causing serious harm to him. “Very well. We can go with that. You know that it pains me to hit a woman, but which one should I start with, until you talk? Your daughter, or Jack Bell’s wife? Though if she is married to him, perhaps she enjoys a beating from time to time.”

Emma and Charlotte opened their mouths in outrage, as Flint went for his gun, but Da Souza was faster. He cocked the hammer with his thumb and trained the heavy pistol dead between Flint’s eyes, warning him not to do that if he had any interest in still having a hand when he was done. “I would not, Grandfather. You are old, and slow, and nobody is frightened of you any more. By the looks of things, you’ve recently had that proven to you, but I do not object to doing it again. This can be easy, so easy. Where is Skeleton Island?”

Flint’s eyes burned like green fire. “Fuck you.”

Da Souza sighed, as if to say that his hand had been forced, and swung around on Emma. “So it’s her I am starting with, then?”

Flint tensed as if to spring, an action that would doubtless have had very bad consequences for all concerned, but at that moment, there was another click and clunk as Charlotte pulled out her hand with her own pistol in it. “No sudden moves, Captain da Souza.”

Caught off guard for the first time, Da Souza stared at her, then laughed. “That is very fierce of you, darling, yes. Now, if the men get back to their business, we can – ”

Charlotte smiled the exact sort of smile that he had earlier, in amused disbelief that any feeble threat had the power to hurt her. “I believe Captain Flint has a question for you.”

Da Souza raised an eyebrow, as if to say that he didn’t recall that happening recently, but that was when – an instant too late – he realized the mistake he had made by turning his back on him. He whirled around, just in time to be greeted by Flint hauling off and slugging him hard enough to make the younger, stronger man stagger back into the courtyard wall. “I do have a question, yes. Where the fuck is my grandson, you fucking shit?”

Da Souza spat blood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He started to lunge at Flint, but Charlotte pulled the trigger, and a boom went off directly beside his head, leaving a bullet hole less than an inch from his ear. He stared at it, then turned to her with an attempt at his devil-may-care smile. “You missed.”

“You really think I missed?” Charlotte stowed the spent gun back in her jacket and pulled out another, with a sweet smile. “I am Black Jack’s wife, after all.”

Flint briefly looked as if he was going to say something, then didn’t. He cracked his knuckles with deliberate thoroughness, swinging his arms over his head, as if to be plenty sure that he was limber. Then he turned back to the job at hand. “Where’s Sam?”

Da Souza tried to keep his eyes on Flint’s fists and Charlotte’s gun at the same time, evidently not feeling quite as cocky as before about the odds of three on one. Just to make the point clear, Emma drew her own pistol. “Oh, but of course,” she said. “We’re old. Has-beens. We couldn’t possibly hurt you. Now, my father has in fact asked you a question. Where’s Sam?”

“I…” Da Souza licked his lips. “I left him in St. Kitts. He was a very brash boy, your Sam, but useless. For what we had been asked to do – ”

“My son is not useless,” Emma said. “Where did you leave him in St. Kitts?”

Da Souza hesitated.

“Answer her, you pustulant arse-licker.” Flint examined his scraped knuckles, blew on them, and then produced a gun in each hand, causing Da Souza’s eyes to whiz between the four different muzzles. “Or is it the head, the chest, or the balls you want to be shot in first?”

“I…” Da Souza finally had to accept that everything had turned on him rather badly. “Fine. I threw him overboard. Jack Bell caused a great disturbance, stole my boat, and went after him. I have no idea where they have gone. Perhaps he drowned, but if not, when I find him – ”

“You were lying?” Emma felt her heart turn over, as she had expected this to be a ruse of some sort, but still managed to be surprised by the depths of Da Souza’s chicanery. “You knew you’d already tried to kill him and you couldn’t bring him to us, but tried to lie and manipulate us and lead us on for the bearings of Skeleton Island anyway? You son of a bitch, you – ”

Da Souza might have been about to answer, but Flint pointed both guns at him, face a steel mask. Cornered, the Portuguese captain raised his hands, blood still running from his smashed nose and lip. “You do not want to kill me. This is unfortunate, yes, but it can be overlooked. We can search together for the treasure, for – ”

“We don’t want treasure,” Emma said tightly. “And we know more than enough of men like you. So that’s the last time you saw Sam? Throwing him off your ship at St. Kitts?”

“Yes, all right? I did try to find Skeleton Island by lying about your son. Of course I did. All that treasure, you and your father are the only ones in the world who know exactly where it is, and you never went back for it? Are you insane? You could have had it all for yourselves, and laughed at the world trying to search for it. So what, you will let it sit there and rot? Foolish.”

“There are more important things in the world.” Emma’s finger tightened on the trigger. Her hand was shaking violently, and she felt something hot and hard and red hammering under her breastbone like a lump of molten iron, blinding her with hatred that this man had tried to kill her son – might have succeeded, if Jack hadn’t gotten there in time – and could just stand there talking about it so casually, without any remorse or care for anything except the lost fortune of Skeleton Island. Something burned through her then, wild and uncontrollable as a bonfire, and she jerked the pistol up, slammed the hammer back, and fired.

Da Souza staggered, a red bloom of blood unfolding on his shirt from where Emma had winged him in the upper arm. He stared at her as if confused and indignant that she had actually had the temerity to shoot him. “Crazy bitch, how could you – ”

Flint swung his own gun around and fired, which would have caught Da Souza in the other arm if he hadn’t ducked just in time. “Don’t you speak to my daughter that way, or the next one goes through your eye. Crawl back to your Spanish masters and tell them there’s no fucking way they or anyone are getting that treasure, and they’ll just have to live with the knowledge that they lost it, forever. And next time we meet, if my grandson is dead, so are you. Get it?”

Da Souza hesitated. Charlotte took the opportunity to shoot a hole into the wall on the exact opposite side of him.

Beleaguered, baffled, bested, and bleeding, the Portuguese captain had to concede defeat. He backed away, hand clasped to his wounded arm, gave them a final baleful stare, then turned and scuttled into the night, leaving a ringing silence in his wake. Emma thought they should get out of there, as the sound of gunshots would likely attract someone to investigate, but she remained rooted to the spot, shaking, until she felt Charlotte’s hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“I…” Emma struggled for a breath through the ache in her chest. “Do you think Jack managed… I don’t know how he met my son, but… Da Souza tried to kill him, he…”

“If Jack set his mind to something, I’d not fret about it,” Charlotte said wryly. “I don’t mean to mock you, or diminish your worry, but… Da Souza only said he tried to kill Sam, I don’t think he actually did. And from what I can tell, your family has a few extra lives apiece.”

“We do, at that.” Flint finally holstered his other gun, crossed to Emma, and put a hand under her elbow. “Next time we see that slime, if Sam – well. I’ll make sure there are no mistakes.”

Emma didn’t think she could answer just yet, and was grateful for them steering her out of the alley and back to the tavern, keeping a weather eye out for anyone who might feel inclined to jump them. They reunited with David and Charlie’s men, who were annoyed that they had gone off by themselves, but impressed to hear how they had handled the resultant situation. Everyone was particularly taken with Charlotte’s marksmanship. “Jack taught you that?” Flint asked. “What you called him earlier, Black Jack – is that something he’s known by?”

“Jack taught me how to handle a gun in the first place, yes. I was the one who practiced until I was good with it. He does not get the credit for that.” Charlotte shrugged. “Come on, it’s late.”

Flint gave her a look as if to say that she had once again evaded his other question, but she had managed to get herself far enough into his good books for him not to press. They made it back to Charlie’s house, where they found Miranda sitting up in the living room by the light of a single candle, book open on her lap but clearly long forgotten. At the sight of them, she started to her feet, and it clattered to the floor in a soft flutter of pages. “What happ…?”

“We met Da Souza,” Flint said. “Turned the tables on him. He was lying through his teeth the whole time, the fucking bastard. He tried to kill Sam in St. Kitts – threw him overboard – but we don’t think he succeeded,” he added hastily, as Miranda had gone white as a sheet. “At any rate, he doesn’t know where Sam is now, he was trying to trick the coordinates for Skeleton Island out of us. I told him to go groveling back to the Spanish, but Emma managed to leave a token of our esteem on his way out.”

Miranda’s eyes moved to Emma, searching her face, before they turned back to her husband. “And you… let him go alive, then?” It was hard to tell whether or not she approved.

“Aye.” Flint blew out a slow breath. “I can’t deny it, I wanted to kill him, very much, especially after he taunted me that I couldn’t possibly hurt him. But we managed to show him that he was bloody mistaken, and… it was good to know that I could still be Flint. That I could come out on top and defeat someone else who underestimated me. But that’s it. It was enough. I did not want to stay as him. I wanted to take off that skin, that other self, that man I gave back to the sea long ago, and come home to you.”

Miranda did not answer, but her eyes were bright, her lips less than steady. Then without a word, she lifted her arms, put them around his neck, and James drew her close against him, burying his face in her loosened brown-silver curls, breathing deep. They stood there for the longest moment, foreheads pressed together, and then he lifted her with only a slight grunt of effort and carried her to the stairs, clearly to effect further reparations in private. Emma watched them go, feeling raw and poignant and tender and heart-rendingly, bone-bendingly lonely. Killian, where are you? Oh God, where are you? Come home. Come home to me.

The night did not answer, the Nassau wind whispering through the palms, keeping its mysteries and its secrets. She stood there, in a prayer beyond words for her husband and her daughter and her son, and then went to lie down alone.

Jim was climbing past the bulkhead when he heard the voices. He almost didn’t, as they were hushed for most likely this exact reason, but he let go of the ladder, dropped down light as a cat, and made his way stealthily toward the source of the noise. He wasn’t ordinarily a no-good spying sneak, listening in on things that didn’t concern him, but he had also gotten the distinct impression that something was not at all right aboard the Rose – and not just Geneva kissing him, either. That had caused Jim to wake up in embarrassment from some highly inappropriate dreams last night, and still flipped his stomach over every time he thought about it. A woman so far beyond his league, who had not been altogether interested in his mooning gazes (he knew they were mooning, but she was just so amazing) who had teased him after he inadvertently caught her in the bath, but more with pitying amusement than passionate arousal… she had kissed him. It had been the most wonderful moment of Jim Hawkins’ life at the time, and in some way it still was, but… hard as he tried, he could not entirely put aside a lingering doubt.

Much as Jim wanted to believe that Geneva had kissed him simply because – well, she just couldn’t resist, or something – it did not fit with her shrewd, stubborn, no-nonsense nature, which in fact was one of the things that had attracted him to her. She was too smart and too in control of herself to do something like that, and he had the distinct feeling that he had been going to do something, or ask about something, before she knocked it out of his head so effectively. Aye, well, he was a young man, and she was a beautiful woman, so of course it worked. But seeing the way she kept flinching when anyone spoke unexpectedly, and looking around warily, and how Jim, observing Mr. Silver, had seen a flicker of disquiet on his face as well… no. He did not think he was imagining it. Something else was going on here.

Jim crept to the end of the narrow catwalk and came to a halt, pressing his ear to the wall. It sounded like two voices on the other side – one in fact Mr. Silver’s, and the other’s a woman. It was not Geneva or Madi, the two women that Jim knew to be aboard, and he edged closer, frowning. What the –

“ – fascinating tale how you came to be aboard, of course?” Silver was saying. “Though I suppose it was foolish for any of us to assume we’d seen the last of you.”

“Did you think I’d do anything else?” The woman’s voice was sharp, and just then, Jim recognized it: Mrs. Rogers, the one they’d met outside the church in Bristol, who Silver and Madi had had such an odd reaction to seeing. What in the hell was she doing here? She had to have stowed away, as there was no way she had done so legitimately; they would have seen her, and Jim knew that Silver and Madi, no matter how hard they tried to hide it, had been arguing about whether to permit her. Unless Silver had agreed to spirit her aboard without telling the others, to keep her as an extra chess piece in his back pocket – in even a comparatively short acquaintance, Jim had gotten more than an idea as to the older man’s tendencies – but that reference to a fascinating tale seemed to indicate that for once, this was not his fault. Still, to know that an intruder was aboard the vessel, and not inform –

“No,” Silver said, after a long moment. “I confess, I did not think you would.”

“So, then. I – I realize my presence may not be the most welcome, but I heard you’ve become first mate. You can talk to Geneva, can’t you? Convince her to let me above-board, or at least to a berth with the crew. I wouldn’t have to see Madi, but I wouldn’t have to sleep in the filth either. Down there, it’s…”

“Indeed. What is down there? Apart from yourself, of course.”

Mrs. Rogers hesitated. “Nothing. And I don’t advise you going down anyway. A man like you in the dark. It would be quite dangerous.”

“Of course,” Silver said. “It’s my safety you’re concerned about.”

Jim shifted, trying to free his foot, which was falling asleep, without tipping them off that he was there. This all sounded, to his lookout, highly fishy indeed, and while it was of course possible that Silver was intending to depart straightaway from this conversation to report to Geneva, it was just as possible that he wasn’t. Jim remained low, waiting.

“I am,” Eleanor Rogers answered coolly. “Concerned about your safety, and that of everyone on this ship. I want to get to Barbados, soon and alive. That’s why I came up when I heard you thumping around on that iron leg of yours. You’re going to get yourself into trouble, again. Why don’t you just trust me on this?”

“Is that what you would do, in my place?”

“Yes, I know.” Eleanor’s voice turned bitter. “Know what is said of both of us, that anyone who ever trusted us did so in grave error. Do you wear that easily, then?”

That seemed to catch Silver off guard, and he had no immediate response. Then he said, “And why do you think I could persuade Geneva?”

“Why do you think you couldn’t?”

“I could try, yes. But that would entail revealing that you came aboard her ship without permission, and – ”

“You fucking idiot.” Eleanor’s voice rose, and she had to quickly catch it. “Geneva already knows about – about me. She found me belowdecks, that’s likely why you got suspicious and came to look yourself, isn’t it? Something about her tipped you off, and you didn’t believe her when she tried to deflect you. Am I wrong?”

A long pause. John Silver said, “No.”

“So. She knows I’m here. You won’t be surprising her with that information, for once. When we reach Barbados, Matthew will be grateful, he’ll pay her. That, or Gold will. Either way, it will be profitable, if that’s all you – ”

“Gold?” The man named for the other precious metal sounded flabbergasted, though Jim had no idea why. “Gold is – Robert Gold, your old bedfellow? Christ, he’s still around causing – ?”

It was clear from Eleanor’s marked silence that she had not meant to let that slip. Finally she said grudgingly, “Yes. Robert Gold.”

“Jesus.” Silver sounded as if he couldn’t decide whether to be enraged or blackly amused. “And people call me treacherous and unreliable. So what, you think Geneva would want to sail for the haunt of the man who destroyed her father’s life and was the pirates’ most notorious and dangerous enemy – alongside, of course, your late husband? Do you think there’s any way I could, or should, talk her into that?”

“Why not?” Eleanor said challengingly. “What is this, a personal scruple for Long John Silver? Don’t tell me you care for her as much as that.”

Silver was quiet, long enough that Jim almost lost his balance trying to peer around the corner. Then Silver said, struggling audibly with the words, “Yes, in fact.”

“I don’t want to hurt her, as I said. I just want to see my son. I wasn’t lying about that.”

“So you’d lead the rest of us straight into the lion’s mouth, as before?” Silver’s voice was honed to a finer and finer edge, like a blade grinding sparks from a whetstone. “After what the war cost us – cost me – to stop last time? All these years, and you have not changed a day.”

“Is that it, then? What’s at stake? Your selfishness, or mine?”

Another fraught pause. Jim slid far enough to get one eye out, very carefully, and saw the two of them – black-haired, one-legged old pirate, and blonde-haired, furious-faced society widow – staring each other down like gladiators about to commence the duel. Indeed, he wasn’t entirely sure that one of them wasn’t going to hit the other, but they didn’t. Then Silver shook his head and stepped back, rubbing a hand over his beard as if to disguise his rattled composure. “There are too many people I care about aboard this ship,” he said. “I can’t let you do that.”

“You should,” Eleanor said. It sounded half a threat, half real fear of her own. “You really should do as I say.”

“Or what? Then the little surprise in the hold plays its part?”

Eleanor crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Since you ask. Yes.”

“What the fuck is down there? What did you bring with you?”

“Just – just don’t. If you care about them, prove it. Stay away. Either way, you have to make a choice, just as much as I do.” Eleanor turned on her heel. “Their lives are in your hands. I suggest you think about that.”

With that, she made to go, and Jim flattened himself against the bulkhead in sudden panic that she was coming this way, but she went to the hatch that led into to the hold, pulled it open, and climbed in. Silver looked for a moment as if he was going to follow, his leg be damned, but there was a scraping and a scuffling as if Eleanor was wedging something heavy against it, in expectation of him trying just this. Hence Silver remained where he was, still looking pole-axed, until the sounds had faded. Then he turned to go himself, stopped, and blanched. “Mr. Hawkins.”

“Aye.” Jim took a defiant step forward. He had thought about skedaddling and pretending he had never been here, but not for very long. “Having a little chat, were you?”

“Jim.” Silver took a step of his own. “Let’s – let’s consider this carefully, all right? Did you – ”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “I heard it. Most of it, at least. Enough to know Mrs. Rogers is hiding down here, and you’re trying to decide whether to sell us out to what’s his name, Robert Gold, by telling Geneva to sail for Barbados. Difficult choice, is it?”

“Jim.” Silver still looked rattled – and somehow hurt beyond just this accusation. The two of them had been – well, it was too soon to say that they were anything, they had only just met, but despite Geneva’s warnings about the man, Jim had found himself accidentally liking him anyway. There was something about Silver that was in turns father and older brother and favorite scalawag uncle, and Jim, who had never had any of these – the uncle only, and them not particularly close – couldn’t help but be drawn to it. As well, he had the sense that Silver had a soft spot for him in return, for the same reasons in reverse: son or little brother or vagrant nephew, or perhaps just the first person in ages who had not met him and immediately hated him. “Jim, you have to believe me, I’m not going to – ”

He stopped.

“Not going to do what?” Jim folded his own arms. “Sell us out, or tell Geneva that you know about this, or meddle in it, or…?”

Silver seemed to be in a vain hunt for words, which normally came so easily. At last he said, “Geneva and I got off on the wrong foot, and it has been difficult to correct that course since. She’s too much like her grandfather. No matter how much you hit either of them with the ox-goad, they proceed down the path they’ve already chosen, and… well. You like her, don’t you.”

“I…” Jim would not be swayed over a tender appeal for the woman they apparently both had feelings for, in some confused shape or form, even as he wasn’t sure that that was what Silver was doing anyway. “Sure, it was a bit awkward when I thought her uncle killed my father, but since he didn’t…”

Silver looked very much as if he was about to say something, then nodded and forced a smile. “Aye. As I told you, Liam Jones didn’t do it. And Geneva is easy to admire. She’s a formidably talented young woman, among other qualities. You do want to help her, don’t you?”

Jim hesitated, wary of a trap. Finally he said guardedly, “Yes.”

“Very well. I must ask you a favor. Don’t tell her that we know this, not yet. I need time to work out what exactly is going on here, what Eleanor is hiding from us. I don’t think she’s lying about there being some danger, and… I did this, I did all of this, because I was trying to… the threat that Billy posed, what he wants to do to us, to…” Again, Silver stopped. Jim had not seen him quite this off guard before, struggling to explain himself, desperate for the younger man’s understanding and vindication, for anyone to remotely grasp what he had tried so hard to save. “I know it seems deceitful to you, but – ”

“Aye,” Jim said. “It does, in fact. So you’ll need to give me a better reason than just you want time to think. I’m not playing her false like that, I won’t – ”

“And you think she’s being entirely honest with you?” Silver, with his usual uncanny intuition, had somehow caught onto that small chink in Jim’s armor, that flicker of doubt that could not entirely be banished. “As I said, lad, she’s so very like her grandfather. What happened with us… I wouldn’t want that for the two of you.”

“Her grandfather,” Jim said. “Captain Flint, you told me back in Bristol. The one whose treasure we’re supposed to be after?”

“It’s not his treasure, exactly.” Silver glanced away. “Believe me, it’s complicated.”

“Shockingly enough, I can see that.”

Silver chuckled, very dryly. “Aye, I suppose that much was obvious.”

Jim was not going to permit the brief moment of camaraderie to distract him from the issues at hand. “You still need to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tell Geneva everything I just heard, and I don’t think you can. I’m not buying you time to get some trick or plot in place. Or perhaps I should just wait until tonight, climb down there myself, and see what’s – ”

“No.” Silver made a convulsive movement, as if to grab his arm. “No, lad, don’t go down there alone.”

“Then we’re going to Geneva and Madi right now, and we can see what, you know, the bloody captain of this ship has to say about Mrs. Rogers and her presence on – ”

“No!” For a moment, Silver sounded truly terrified. “Jesus Christ, you don’t understand everything that’s going on here, that would – ”

“No, because you never tell anyone anything, do you? Keep it to yourself until it’s of greatest use, just like Geneva said you did.” Jim himself felt hurt more than he should be, how quickly he seemed to have lost his grip on someone who had seemed to like him without an ulterior motive. He and Silver were equally hungry for it, had caught onto each other so briefly, and now saw it inexorably slipping away. “So if you even can, then – ”

Silver’s eyes met his. He looked backed into a corner in more ways than one, struggling to regain any sort of control or command or sense over the situation. Almost pleadingly, he said, “I can.”

“Aye?” Jim glared at him. “Prove it.”

“I… look…” There seemed to be no words for how much Silver did not want to do this, how he was taking no joy in it at all, and yet it burst out of him. “Very well, then. There’s something you should know. Liam Jones didn’t kill your father.”

“Yes, we just mentioned that, so unless – ”

“Not him, no, but a Jones did.” Silver’s gaze was burning blue, unblinking. “Liam’s brother, Geneva’s father. 1715, in Nassau. Killian Jones killed your father.”

#captain swan #cs ff #cs au #cs next gen #the rose and thorn #treasure island #black sails

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