The Republic of Pirates
lower in the water with treasure aboard, but the captain was eager to remedy this. After spending the night off the island’s coast, they sailed into Nassau.
Copson paid his crew well, even granting bonuses for the pleasure at having found the wealth that was rightfully his. As promised, Aurelia was no exception to the payout. While the others collected their salaries from Greyson or Fenner or Ralph, Copson himself handed her a small, heavy bag that chimed with gold.
“Spend it wisely,” he told her as many of the crew started for the shore. “And please, Miss Rowe, don’t get into too much trouble.”
She held the money in her palm like an offering. Even with far more riches to her name stored in the belly of the ship, she’d never held so much money all at once. Aunt Clara would’ve called it obscene, but Aurelia felt only pride. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what kinds of trouble I should avoid.”
“Preferably all of it,” Copson replied simply. “Unless it is entertaining—then at least be judicious about what you seek out.” His gaze moved to Ralph who was explaining the history of a certain design stamped on a gold coin while Lavinia watched him with a wistful grin. “Go with them and watch them bicker over the meaning of fun.”
As the pirates descended on the city and scattered through the streets and taverns to debase themselves in all the ways that suited them, Aurelia stuck close to Ralph and Lavinia with hopes they wouldn’t lead her anywhere that would make her blush or rob her of her innocence too quickly.
Too quickly, Aurelia thought, because she was sure it would all be gone at some point. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to face all life’s truths at once. And since her conversation with the captain, she was nervous Nassau might subject her to just that.
Nassau, Ralph and Lavinia told her, was run entirely by pirates, making it a safe place for Copson and his crew to dock. In fact, Copson had even been invited to help govern the city, which he’d turned down in favor of “pirating, pillaging, and promiscuity,” as he so proudly announced to the council of captains who’d offered him the position.
Even in turning it down, Copson was still regarded as highly as the pirates who presided over the city now, which garnered his crew a certain elevated favor. This came as discounts, nicer rooms at the inns, and whatever else the citizens might do to impress Copson and his sailors so they would return with their gold.
By the time Aurelia reached the small city, the streets were abuzz with the news of Robin’s treasure, and the gold had already found its way into bars and brothels. Aurelia was not inclined to visit these places, so she looked instead for new clothing. Thanks to Lavinia, she found several things that fit her better than the borrowed garments she’d worn these past weeks. She bought a sword that cost more than the average pirate was willing to pay, after which she found a laundress to wash the clothing previously loaned to her, and purchased a satchel to carry it all.
Lavinia and Ralph spent their gold on various pursuits. Ralph found a diary and a new pot of ink, and Lavinia got a long purple scarf to tie around her waist because she liked it and Aurelia said she should—and because Ralph would appreciate its fine fabric. She didn’t say that, though, and enjoyed the simple reward of being right when Ralph noticed and complimented Lavinia’s taste.
And Lavinia, for all her teasing and banter, blushed deeply and thanked him.
That evening, they pulled Aurelia into a tavern, where pirates imbibed all around her. She didn’t mind so much as a steaming plate of food was set before her. She imbibed herself, even, and tried mead for the first time. After champagnes and bitter wines served at balls and horrid social events, she didn’t expect the sweet taste of the honey wine, or that she would find it so delightful. She was a bit peeved she’d never been offered it before.
By the time evening fell, the three made their way back to the Destiny’s Revenge. While Ralph and Lavinia disappeared to their quarters, Aurelia stayed on the main deck to watch the city. Gunshots, screams, music, and drunken laughter carried over the harbor.
Stars winked overhead, silently judging the debauchery she’d been warned from and was still unsure of. Maybe it was purposeful on Ralph and Lavinia’s part—Ralph took pride in being the one to show her these more palatable parts of pirate life, even as Lavinia teased and taunted his goodness, but she stayed by his side and never once tried to lead him from it. They bickered over what they considered fun and interesting, as William had said they would, but Aurelia saw nothing that made her feel less innocent than she’d been this morning.
Her satchel weighed on her shoulder. Reminded of William’s clothes inside, she peered over her shoulder at the light glowing faintly from beneath his door. She padded silently over the deck and hesitated for a breath before softly rapping her knuckles against the wood.
“What,” came the snapped reply.
Aurelia slowly turned the handle and only swung the door in far enough to let her stand on the threshold.
Lanterns cast the room in shades of orange and yellow, dim enough to leech the brilliant shades of green from the walls and leave them in murky shadow. Clad in a loose black shirt, William glared at a log book on his desk and spun a pen through his fingers. When his gaze lifted, his expression thawed.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said, his tone lighter. “I assumed you’d stay in the city.”
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I only came to return these.” She pulled his clothes from her bag.
He stood and strode to her. “You’re not interrupting. I’m only updating my books and praying for relief from it. It’s honest work, so naturally it’s my least favorite.” His easy smile appeared, and her toes slid another inch into the room. He took the proffered clothing and smoothed his hand over the clean fabric. “You washed them.”
“Had them washed,” she clarified, ignoring the way the lanterns lit his dark hair with gold. “I probably would have ruined them.”
“I’m afraid there’s not much to ruin.”
“Oh. Well. I’ll know that for next time.” She barely stopped herself from sinking into an awkwardly unnecessary curtsy. “I’ll leave you to your books.”
“Don’t bother. Truly, I was doing nothing I wish to return to tonight.” He waved her inside and moved to a low cabinet by the fireplace. “Come in, have a drink.” He set the folded clothes aside and opened a door to reveal glasses and a half dozen bottles of varying sizes.
Two glasses sat on top of the cabinet, which he filled amber liquid. He tipped one back, swallowing the drink in one gulp, and immediately set to refilling it.
Like the first time she’d been in his quarters, she was taken aback by its opulence. Tonight, it was cozier with the flickering lamps, the bed covers turned down, and save for the log book still on the desk, the room was spotless.
William returned and handed her a crystal glass. “Have you had whiskey before?”
She shook her head. The glass sparkled as she swirled the alcohol inside, intrigued by its burning, woody scent. “Aunt Clara locked her liquor away because she said it was the devil’s way of turning young women absurd.”
“What about old women?”
She smiled. “They’re already plenty absurd.”
A laugh puffed through his nose. He clinked his glass against hers. “Sip it. Don’t shoot it like I just did.”
Raising the glass to her lips, she did as recommended. The small sip melted over her tongue, warm and smoky and tasting vaguely of caramel. She ran her tongue over the inside of her lips to catch the comforting burn.
His eyes dipped to her sword. “Is that new?”
She followed his gaze. “It is.”
He held out his free hand. “May I?”
Aurelia slipped the sword from its sheath and set the hilt in his palm. He stepped out onto the empty, moonlit deck and strode a few paces away, swinging the blade with deadly precision, his face drawn in concentration as he ran through the very same movements his mother had taught her. Then he held the sword horizontal and eyed it from point to pommel, his whiskey secure in his left hand.
“You picked a good one,” he said. “Well made.”
“I asked a lot of questions.” She’d actually asked the shop owner so many questions that he was practically sweating by the time she left his store, and he’d nearly forgotten to take her money.
She accidentally brushed William’s skin as he handed it back, sending a jolt of heat up her arm. Thankfully, she managed to slip the sword back into its sheath one-handed without shaking, and by the time she met his gaze again, she was certain of her composure and her ability to keep it. Regardless, she moved out of the light spilling from his doorway, lest it reveal her blush.
“You said you learned from a countess,” he said quietly as she joined him in the darkness. “Did you mean…” His eyes dropped to the turtle at her throat.
Aurelia touched the pendant. He’d heard what she’d told Ralph the day before—she hadn’t realized he’d been listening. “Yes. She’s a fantastic teacher.”
“And her husband?” A veiled way to ask about his father, in case there were listening ears, even though she was sure they were alone.
“Gave me bad advice so she’d win.”
He smirked. “Sounds right.”
Aurelia lowered her satchel and sat on one of the crates near the main mast while he remained standing in the middle of the deck. “May I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
She hesitated. As much as she knew him through letters and watching him as Captain Copson, she wasn’t sure what she was allowed to say, or if some questions might be dangerous. She held her drink in both hands and said quietly, “Lavinia told me a story about the countess… Was she really a prisoner?”
William wandered over and leaned against the mast, close enough that she might touch him if she held out her arm. “Yes,” he answered simply. “Though it’s not a story she tells often. She wasn’t pleased to be on the Fortuna Royale, and he wasn’t particularly keen on her being there either. They tried to kill each other but enjoyed the experience so much that they married instead.”
She swung her feet, lightly kicking her heels against the crate. “So she was a pirate.”
“For a time.” He stared at her for a long moment. “May I ask you something now?”
“Anything,” she said, and regretted both the answer and how quickly she spoke it.
“What do you think of it? Piracy, sailing, being on the Destiny’s Revenge with the dreadful Captain Copson.” He said his name with a note of sarcasm, as though he found the infamy ludicrous. Which she knew he didn’t because he seemed to enjoy the position far too much.
She sipped her drink and set it down beside her, mulling over the right words to say. He shifted his weight as he waited. “It’s probably the most incredible thing I’ve ever done,” she finally said, softly enough to not draw the silent stars’ attention, lest they judge her too. “Here I feel like every character I’ve ever read about and loved. I even found treasure yesterday.” She planted her hands on the crate and tipped her body forward like she could pour out her enthusiasm before him. “There’s nothing like it, and my only disappointment is that I didn’t do this sooner.”
His teeth flashed in the moonlight. “I’m glad to hear it.”
She glanced at his open door and the golden stripe of lantern light over the deck. “Why aren’t you on land tonight?”
He peered up at the lowered sails. “For the same reason I’m careful where I sail this ship,” he said. “Too much fanfare.”
She tilted her head. “Really?”
“Yes,” he said with a small laugh. He brought his gaze back to hers. “There are many perks to being me, but it can be suffocating.”
“I thought you wanted everyone to know you found your treasure.”
“I do, but I’m also tired, and a couple shots of whiskey before bed sound as nice as a hero’s welcome.” He lifted his glass in a salute. “For that matter, you didn’t stay on land either. You seem keen to embrace every experience you can—does a pirate city not fit the bill?”
“It fits,” she said, swinging her legs again. “In truth, you frightened me.”
A peculiar look crossed his face, his brow furrowing with a hint of apprehension. “Frightened you how?”
She swung her feet faster, staring at the moon now. “What manner of trouble is so terrible that you, of all people, would tell me to avoid it?”
“You already know the trouble.”
Her nervous kicking stopped. She looked at him and found laughter shining in his eyes. “I do?”
“You were out in society.” After a moment of silence, he seemed to realize this was not enough of an explanation. To affirm it, she raised one brow and shook her head. His smile faded into something more understanding. “Several years ago, you asked me the proper way to strike a man. Why?”
She’d hoped he might simply tell her what he meant, but from his letters and sailing with him these past weeks, she’d learned William was rarely simple or brief when there was a journey to be had. “I told you then.”
“Tell me more.”
“I hardly remember,” she said, which wasn’t the truth. She wished she could so easily forget Lawrence Talley’s hands on her neck and his tongue in her mouth. It had been her first kiss. The kiss she’d once fancied to give to William.
She plucked her whiskey off the crate and drank more. It burned all the way down.
“He forced himself on you,” William said evenly, “didn’t he.”
Staring into her glass, she nodded.
He was silent for a moment, then said, “I assume there were other suitors? I don’t imagine you had any shortage, being who you are.”
A Danby. An heiress—virtues she’d learned to despise. “Yes, there were others.”
“Proposals?”
“Some.” She remembered what it was like at sixteen when she’d told herself William would one day see how desirable she was when men were throwing themselves at her and the ladies were clambering to be her friends. How funny it was to think he’d be so impressed by such a thing when he clearly disliked society as much as she did.
His stare was unwavering. “Why’d you turn them down?”
She wouldn’t say the first thing that came to mind—that it was because none of them were him. Other, better answers came in quick succession, a list of sins so unattractive she wanted to choke.
“You already know the trouble.” He spoke softly, plainly. “The people in that city aren’t so different. Our drunkenness is louder and more violent than that of the high and mighty folks back in England. The prostitutes don’t hide like their mistresses do, and the murders come without the trappings of a gentleman’s duel.” He shrugged and sipped his drink. “It’s the same.”
Her brows knitted. She struggled to picture a slovenly pirate getting along with—being the same as—someone as refined as Lawrence Talley. But she thought of the men she’d entertained—the proud, the greedy, the wrathful, the boring, and any number of sins besides. They were disappointing and awful compared to the boy who’d assuaged her frustration at their inadequacies with his letters.
She met William’s gaze. “You’re right.”
“It’s not my favorite thing I’ve ever been right about,” he told her quietly. “I’m rather sorry.”
“You shouldn’t be. Your letters were a boon,” she said. “Especially then.”
He continued to watch her without blinking. She might’ve handed over her little bag of gold and her whole dowry to know what he saw and thought of her. Whatever it was, she had no hope of him revealing it as he said, “I didn’t fear for you when I told you to stay out of trouble. I only worried because lascivious heathens are often more shocking in the streets than they are behind closed doors. Otherwise they’re everything you’re used to—just ugly, smelly, and obvious.” He lifted his glass. “But I know you’ll throw a perfect punch.”
“Yes, and I have a sword now.” She patted the hilt.
“A fantastic choice too.” He pushed away from the mast and stepped closer, his features edged with silver from the moon. The effect was unfairly beautiful. “I hope you’ll forgive me for frightening you. It wasn’t my intention.”
“You don’t frighten me.” As soon as the confession left her lips, she felt it was a lie as well. He did frighten her—both as William and Captain Copson. William terrified her for everything he made her feel, and Copson was unsettling for his wild, wicked grins and deadly threats, and especially his cool, swaggering nonchalance. Her safety, however, felt sure with both, so she added, “Not generally. Not like you scare so many others.”
“Oh, well I frighten them purposefully, and because it’s fun. But you are one of few exceptions to the rule because I’ve already seen you terrified—by an old woman, no less—and I went to such lengths to fix it.” He lifted his drink to his lips, peering at her over the rim. “I do hate to be counterproductive.”
There it was again—his memory of her as a shivering, scared child, even after she’d told him of her proposals and dodging men’s iniquities. She scowled. If she could go back, she would have written him after her debut if only to prove she’d grown up. But if this conversation hadn’t done it, perhaps nothing would. The thought left her feeling hollow.
Gunshots and laughter peeled over the water from Nassau, a constant, dim reminder they weren’t in the open ocean even as the ship creaked softly beneath them. But as she drummed up an answer for him—probably another lie, but something smart and grown up nonetheless—a haunting melody rose from the sea.
Aurelia’s ears pricked. “Do you hear that?” It was heartbreakingly lovely and unlike anything she’d ever heard. Perhaps it was the alcohol loosening her thoughts, but at that moment, memories of the lake and the forest flew from her mind as she hopped off the crate and wandered toward the edge of the ship.
“The singing?” William followed and looked out to the black expanse of sea. “I usually do when I’m here.”
She searched the water and scanned the islands in the distance. “Where does it come from?”
“It’s a mermaid.” He said it with no humor or malice, not an ounce of sarcasm.
She pulled her gaze to him. “What is it actually?”
He chuckled. “A mermaid, I swear. She’s been in love with me for ages, and she sings when she sees my ships in harbor.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If you’re making fun of me—”
“I’m not making fun of you.”
“Because I don’t know any better, and it’d be cruel to do that.”
“First of all, would that terribly surprise you? Do you know anyone crueler than I?”
“Yes,” she said, though a name didn’t come to mind.
Another low laugh. “Think what you like. I won’t tell you anything other than that voice is a mermaid. Most of the crew will tell you the same.”
“Why is she in love with you?” The words made her shiver for how close they were to the very declaration that sat in her chest.
“Why is anyone in love?” He turned his face to her, and she realized how close he stood—near enough to see the stars reflected in his eyes. “I suppose she saw my face and thought me handsome.”
Aurelia drained her whiskey. The singing continued.
“What is your opinion of your aunt now?” William asked suddenly. “You tease her without malice, but you also said she didn’t say goodbye.”
Aurelia watched the moonlight sparkle in her glass as the whiskey bloomed through her. “She’s the only mother I know, and she was beside herself with my engagement and hid away for the pain of my departure…” She looked up at him. “I love her dearly, and she loves me too.”
“Shame on the Danbys,” he grumbled, and the last of his drink disappeared.
Her eyes lingered on the sharp cut of his jaw before he met her gaze again. “Aunt Clara told me her opinion of my family, as did your father,” she said. “I appreciate the new name.”
William still studied her intently, as though she were the riddle on his map. He still didn’t speak about what he saw, and said only, “I’m happy you enjoy it. All of it.”
She could stay awake forever if only to keep talking to him, but his watching made her nervous in a way even the whiskey could not soothe. She held her glass between them. “Thank you for the drink.”
“Thank you for sparing me from drinking alone.” His fingers brushed her hand as he took it, and the same thrill as before lit through her chest. He stepped back to let her pass. “Goodnight, Aurelia.”
A full smile broke over her lips, loosened by the liquor. “Goodnight, William.”