CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

CARIBBEAN SEA—1719

MARY SQUINTED AT THE LOW RIBBON OF LAND SLOWLY MATERIALIZING against the unimaginably blue water as Paddy finished cinching a knot beside her. The view from the mainsail yard was incredible. A spit of green curved out of a gentle slope of mountains, and the promise of a city—a warm, deep harbor surrounded by alehouses and markets and blessed dry land—lay just beyond that.

Willemstad, Curaçao.

After near three backbreaking, brine-soaked months at sea, she would not sail back to Europe on this ship. Apparently the captain and officers had ways of keeping the crew on board. Padlocks and keys, pistols and bayonets. But Mary knew from experience that there were ways to jump ship that the kapitein might not have thought of.

First bell, afternoon watch, clanged from the quarterdeck. She guessed the ship should be passing the tip of the island by third bell, no more than an hour from now.

An hour from now. And after that—might they make port by tonight?

Mary’s nerves jumped as she thought of dropping anchor. She looked at Paddy. “What do you think, is Kapitein Baas-tard letting us off the Vissen tonight?” she asked, legs dangling on either side of the yard.

Paddy shook his head with alarming resignation. “Speaking from me own experience, I’m inclined to doubt it.” He didn’t care; all he wanted was a way back to Wapping with enough coin at the end of it to woo his Katie. He’d given up on the notion of debarking. “A bit of fresh meat and water is the best we can hope for tonight,” he said. “The likes of us won’t be seeing the insides of an island alehouse, mark me words. Standard practice, it is.”

“I’m getting off this ship tonight, Baas be damned,” Mary said, then wished she hadn’t. She sounded petulant, defiant, like a child thinking she was entitled to something a wiser sailor knew he’d never get. “I have to get to Nassau.”

“So you’ve told me.” He gave her a sad smile and reached up to grab the ratline. “Believe me, son. I hope to God you get your wish.”

Mary followed him as he swung himself up the rungs. Paddy knew she planned to jump ship once they reached shore. It hadn’t worked for any sailors he’d known. But still, he was willing to entertain the idea that it might just work for her.

It had to work. She wouldn’t leave the Indies before finding Nat.

She couldn’t believe it had been over nine months since she’d seen him last. She’d wasted so much time in Rotterdam, working the docks, holding tight to her secret. Earning next to nothing mending sails and running messages, afraid to return to London. She’d met Paddy at a tavern one particularly maudlin night, and he’d convinced her it was worth it to sail west in October with him on a Dutch trader, the Zilveren Vissen.

Paddy turned once he reached the topgallant yard. “I never did tell you how I got me these tattoos, did I?” Paddy gestured to the faint nautical star on his left bicep, one of an almost-matching pair. They were said to protect those who inked them on their bodies from all dangers at sea. “Did I tell you about the time Katie was giving me the second one here—”

She rolled her eyes. “Why yes, I’m afraid you’ve bored me to tears on a number of occasions.” Mary swung herself onto the starboard side of the yard and reached for a handful of sailcloth. Once they climbed past the mainsail yard the wind picked up, and it was good to have an extra grip.

“I swear to you, she hadn’t a chance to finish the second tattoo when the press gang busted in.”

Mary couldn’t believe it; he was truly about to launch into this story again. Paddy settled on the far side of the topgallant yard, a leg hanging on either side. “You can see here where the line ain’t quite done—” He pulled his skin tight so that she might see the tattoo he’d shown her a thousand times. Mary did her best to look entirely uninterested, peering around for something more entertaining. Sea birds crowded the rigging all around them, screeching and roosting on the yards. The birds had colonized the Zilveren Vissen soon after they entered the islands, and they were disappointingly similar to the gulls back home, all black and gray and white. Not the promised swarms of rainbowed parrots—but they had thrilled her nonetheless. They’d signaled that she was almost there, where she’d longed to be ever since Nat had left her on that dock.

“I was yelling over me shoulder about how I’d be back for her, and she was crying, screaming that she’d wait for me—” Paddy shook his head and dropped his arm. “Sure, you don’t know what it’s like, do you? You’re too bloody young.”

She turned back to him. “What what’s like?”

“Love. Being in love.”

“I do, though!” What had carried her halfway around the world?

“No, you don’t. Whoever she was, she was a child. Just like you.”

“At least she wasn’t a loose woman,” Mary taunted.

Paddy narrowed his eyes. “Careful now.”

“I mean, how can you know it’s love with Katie? She lays with other men.”

He shrugged. “She may, but it’s different with me.”

“Sure, that’s what you tell yourself.”

Paddy rubbed his starred bicep absentmindedly. “Well, it’s not any different, mechanically speaking.”

Mary smirked. “So what makes you think you’re special?”

“See, this is how I know you haven’t been in love before.” He winked. “It’s how I know you haven’t lain with a woman, neither.”

“Hey now,” Mary protested.

“The mechanics—that’s part of it. But there’s all these other bits to it. And all those bits are different with everyone, and that’s what makes it beautiful, and that’s what makes it hurt, and that’s what makes it feel like there’s a point to everything—not the bloody mechanics. You’ll know the difference when it happens to you.”

“So you never felt anything like that before Katie.”

“No, I felt it before Katie. It doesn’t happen with just one lass ever, or even just one lass at a time. But it’s different with each person, and you only feel it if it’s something special. Otherwise—it’s just a transaction, and it doesn’t worry me none.”

The way Mary had longed to touch Nat—the heat of her dreams about him—she knew what she felt for him was special. Her feelings just hadn’t been enough. Nat didn’t feel the same way. She hadn’t given him the chance to. “What if you get back and you’re too late, you made a mistake, and now she’s married to someone else?”

“I can’t worry about that.” Paddy closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sun. “It feels good to believe I’ll make it to her in time. It keeps me going, thinking about how it is when I’m with her. How I’m going to settle down with her one day. It makes me feel like it’s worth it. All this shit.”

Sweet Paddy. Nothing had ever gone right for him—but still, he always had hope. He always thought things might just work out. “So it doesn’t matter that she might be engaged to some other cove? She’s just a nice idea that makes you feel a little less cold at night?”

“Jaysus, no, it matters.” He opened his eyes and gave her a piercing look. “Believe me, son. I might not worry about it now, seeing as there’s nothing I can do about it. But if I got back and she was promised to some other man? You better believe I would fight like hell for her.”