CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

WAPPING, LONDON—1717

MARY BUZZED AROUND THE TENEMENT ROOM LIKE A FLY TRAPPED IN A bottle, throwing herself down on the pallet, then bouncing up to the chair, then bolting to her feet and pacing. Beth would tell Granny—she probably already had. Would Granny call the constable and send him after Mary? It wouldn’t be too hard for him to find her—Granny knew she’d be in Wapping, and the constable wouldn’t have to ask around long before being pointed to the right kip. Maybe there was a chance that Granny wouldn’t come after her, but she couldn’t bet on that, and then there was Mum, Lord knows where she was right now but she’d be back soon, and when Mary told her what had happened—she couldn’t tell her what had happened. Mary flung herself onto the pallet and pressed her fists into her eyes. She’d ruined the one thing that made her worth anything in Mum’s eyes—and whether it had been God’s plan for her to masquerade as Mark or not, Mary was just a girl who had lied her whole life. She couldn’t go back to living with Mum in this filthy room as the nothing she would be to her now, she couldn’t.

A thump from the landing pulled her from her thoughts in a panic. But it was Nat’s door across the hall slamming open and something heavy crashing down, followed by a smattering of footsteps and a curse—“Christ almighty!”

Nat’s voice.

Whether she ended up in gaol or fleeing the city, the thought of never seeing his face again was suddenly unbearable. Mary jumped from the pallet and crept to his door.

Nat crouched over a lockbox on top of the table, fumbling with a key. A floorboard creaked under Mary’s foot and his head snapped up, the key clattering to the floor.

His face was a mess. “Would you look at this?” He sounded oddly triumphant as he gestured to his eye. “When I got home last night he was back.” His left eye was swollen shut, his cheek puffed out, crusted and purple. His other eye had a mad look in it, his breath coming short and fast. He bent and picked up the key. “Me da’s back, been laid off from his ship same as everyone, and it’s no use I got a job now. He’ll do nothing but drink me money away, as he’s got none of his own.” His hands jumped about, key rattling against the lock as the metal touched. “But no matter. This is the last of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You finally going to make good on your threat and finish him off?” She wouldn’t put it past him, in this state. Nat didn’t seem himself at all.

“I’d kill him soon as look at him again.” His gaze landed on her and he stilled. “What are you doing home, mate?” he asked. He dropped the key, grabbed her arms and gave her a shake. “You finished with that bloody boring life you have with Granny? You ready for an adventure?”

“Bloody hell,” she said, her voice catching a little. “I think I am.”

He was leaving. They could leave together.

“That’s brilliant, mate—listen to this!” Nat began pacing back and forth. “I was up early for me shift at the yard, and the cove I work for there, Johnny Thresham, told me about the reward the king’s just posted for pirates—twenty pounds for regular pirates, up to one hundred for the ringleaders! There’s a fortune to be made hunting down men like me da that take what’s not theirs!”

He was leaving to go hunting pirates? “Aye. That’s a fortune sure enough, but—”

“The West Indies, mate! There’s money, endless sunshine, and plenty of land to be had. Johnny’s got a plan to chase down pirates, a ship, and a scheme to get the shine to back it! We’ve got to be on that boat tonight if we’re to leave in the morning—we’re sailing straight for Flanders first thing. There’s a rich man there he’s worked for that owes him a favor, and hates pirates besides—Johnny’s sure he’ll want to buy shares in the venture. How’s that for you?”

Mary sank down on a chair. “Chasing pirates, then.” It wasn’t what she dreamed of, when she imagined the New World. She’d been more inclined to envy the pirates than the men hunting them. For all their treasure. For starting a new life, out of reach of London law …

And then—she couldn’t possibly survive a journey on a ship full of men. Where would she relieve herself? Where would she sleep? Could she really fight pirates, if she had to? And there’d be nowhere to run, should she be discovered.

Nat squatted in front of her. “You’ve got to come! Johnny’s still looking for able men that can leave in the morn, and I know you’re as wild to get out of here as I am. I’ll vouch for you—he’s sure to take you on!”

Nat wanted her to come. Even if it was just as his mate.

“Mark,” Nat said. “You living in Westminster—it got you out of Wapping, but you’re still Mark Reade. Your Granny’s still breathing down your neck, and your mum’s still a drunk, and that’ll never change.”

“Aye, that’s bloody well true,” Mary said bitterly.

“You sail to the other side of the world—you could be anyone you want!”

Mary’s heart started to beat faster.

“We could find our fortune.” He nudged her. “Buy our island.”

She nudged him back. “Find you a parrot to sit on your shoulder.”

He laughed. “Aye! Exactly.”

The New World—and Nat would be with her. Mary would get out before Granny or the constable came after her.

She looked at Nat. The eye that wasn’t swollen shut was so hopeful, so black and deep and promising. She let herself imagine running her hand along his jaw, across his bottom lip. Pushing the hair from his forehead.

She rose to her feet and banged the table. “I’m in, mate. Let’s get the bloody hell out of this city!”

He cheered. “That’s it! That’s the spirit!”

When she laughed it sounded almost like crying, coming from somewhere breathless and deep inside her chest.