The Devil's Tide (20 page)

"Oh, of course." Candler slapped a ring with near a dozen keys into Nathan's hand. "It's the littlest one," he said.

"I won't need you," Nathan said, and Candler gladly took his leave. The first mate didn't like associating with the prisoners. He was extremely agitated when Nathan assigned him to look after them, but Nathan knew he could trust Candler not to stray too close.

Nathan reached the prisoner tent and pushed through the flaps. Most of them were asleep, sitting upright with their backs to each other, heads dropping. Hornigold was wide awake, staring expectantly. "I heard someone say
Queen Anne's Revenge
. Did I hear someone say
Queen Anne's Revenge
? I heard someone say
Queen Anne's Revenge
. He's come for me, Adams. He's come for me at last, as I always knew he would. He's come for me."

Hornigold had deteriorated considerably over the past week. He hadn't eaten much or taken much water. His cheeks were starting to sink in. His skin was a shade paler, lips cracked and bleeding, and he was constantly sweating. His hair was wet and stringy, resembling seaweed. Nathan was starting to feel sorry for the man. It was cruel to search for treasure at a leisurely pace while prolonging Hornigold's certain execution, but how could anyone pass up such an opportunity? Hornigold had made his choice.

"I was hoping you'd tell me," Nathan said as he bent down to unlock Hornigold's chains.

The one named Bastion was awake, eyes bright in the dark, though no other part of him was visible. "This is no good," he was saying, shaking his head.

"Thank you, Bastion," Nathan said.

"This is no good."

He freed Hornigold's wrists and helped him up. Nathan's knuckles raked over the notches of Hornigold's ribs. The disgraced captain was surprisingly easy to lift with just one arm. How had he lost so much weight so quickly? If they lingered much longer, Woodes Rogers would have to settle for dangling a skeleton from the noose.

Nathan helped Hornigold step out of the tent, steadying him from behind. Before the flaps closed, he heard Bastion say, "This is no good," one more time.

"So tell me," Nathan said. "Is that
Queen Anne's Revenge
?"

Despite the dim light, Hornigold squinted as though it pained his eyes. Nathan watched his face decline from anxiety to a state of sheer terror. "You lingered here too long," Hornigold quaked. "Too long, Adams. You've bloody killed me. You've bloody killed me."

"That sounds like a 'yes,'" Bellamy quipped as he approached, bracelets clinking. His silver hair resembled polished metal in the low light.

Nathan handed Hornigold over to the surgeon. "See that he doesn't die before Blackbeard sets foot in the sand. That would be bad for all of us."

"You've killed me, Adams!" Hornigold shrieked.

Nathan glared at him. "Oh, now it's me who's killed you? I thought it was Katherine Lindsay."

"The whole bloody lot of you!"

Nathan chuckled bitterly. "Anyone but you, it would seem." He handed the keys to Bellamy. "Take him back inside and keep him as quiet as possible." Bellamy nodded, dragging the prisoner back through the flaps. Hornigold's enlarged, terror-ridden eyes flashed at Nathan before he was drawn into the darkness of the tent. "You've killed me!"

Nathan snapped his fingers at Dick Maynard (Dick had slightly shorter hair than Richard). "Maynard, stand watch over this tent. Make sure Hornigold doesn't leave."

Dick grunted and lumbered to the tent.

Nathan joined the crew by the firepit, stepping between Peter Lively and a middle-aged black man named Yarlow, who had very short, curly white hair and an equally white beard. Yarlow handed Nathan a telescope. The silver shaft was dotted with blood. It had belonged to Jones Thompson, the navigator who was killed in the accident that had earned Nathan his surprise promotion.

Yarlow gestured to the approaching frigate, which was coming to a halt parallel to
Crusader
. No doubt the token crew Nathan had left aboard were preparing the guns. "Look at her colors," Yarlow said.

Nathan peered through the scope, scanning the horizon until he found the ship. He scaled the long mainmast, and at the top he saw a white flag fluttering in the wind.

"Mighty nice of Blackbeard to surrender before the fight," quipped Lively. "Not in his character, but let's not look a murderer in the mouth, eh?"

"He's not here for a fight," Nathan said. "He's here for Hornigold."

"Then we'd best give him over," Yarlow urged. "That ship could sink
Crusader
by looking at her."

"Not quite," Nathan said. "Ours would do a fair amount of damage before she sank, and Blackbeard knows it. Hell,
Crusader
might even get a crippling shot in before she went under. Not worth risking his precious
Revenge
. He hasn't made it this far by being stupid."

Nathan hoped the men he'd left on
Crusader
knew the meaning of a white flag. Some of them were quite daft. So far no one had fired. That was a good sign, at least.

"A white flag," Lively muttered sarcastically. "The mighty Blackbeard doesn't disappoint. I think I just shit meself."

"Only just?" said Gabe Jenkins, except he wasn't joking. He looked genuinely horrified. A lock of his curly black hair was matted to his forehead, which was glistening with sweat.

They waited an hour. Nathan instructed the crew to act casually but remain on their guard at all times. He had Calloway light candles in the large tent and then asked her and Lindsay to remove themselves to another tent. He had been keeping both women sheltered and under close watch, along with Dillahunt, as those three were the most vulnerable members of the crew. He did not trust some of Dillahunt's men not to rape the women or murder Dillahunt in his sleep. There were too many former pirates here, and some of them had worked with Blackbeard.

The sun peeked as a boat from
Queen Anne's Revenge
slid upon the shore. A dark shadow stood tall at the bow, in a long coat and tricorn hat, arm resting casually upon a raised knee. He was flanked by five men. Four of them jumped off, and two of them helped their captain into the sand, taking care that his boots didn't get wet. He was at least six feet tall. He stepped in front of the quarter-sun that was ascending slowly from the water, and his towering silhouette seemed to swallow all light. He stood there, features indistinct in the gloom. The shadow emitted a guttural voice. "Where be Captain Dillahunt?"

Nathan stepped forward. "Captain Dillahunt is unwell. I act in his stead."

The shadow remained still. "Am I to guess your name?"

"Nathan Adams," Nathan said, doing his best to keep a firm, commanding tone.

There was a long pause. "That name be familiar to me."

Nathan frowned. "It shouldn't be."

"Nevertheless, it gives pause." Blackbeard turned and snapped his fingers at the two men who had remained in the boat. "Return to the ship."

"You arrive under a white flag," Nathan said.

"Aye. Normally I would take what is rightfully mine, but respect for Captain Dillahunt stays my hand."

Nathan smiled thinly. "Respect, or fear of
Crusader's
many guns."

"Don't fool yourself, boy," the shadow boomed. "
Crusader
would swiftly find herself at the bottom of the ocean if it served my purpose, and I would suffer a few holes in my beloved
Revenge
to see the deed done."

"And what is your purpose, exactly?"

"A thing best discussed away from prying ears," the shadow said.

Nathan motioned toward the big tent. "Your men wait here," he said.

"As do yours, boy."

"That's fair."

Nathan walked to the tent, hoping the tall man was following. He ducked through the flaps and into warm candlelight. Dillahunt was still comatose in his many blankets in a dark corner. Nathan turned.

The flaps parted, and Blackbeard stepped in. The top of his hat skimmed the ceiling. Even in the light, his face was shadowed by a bushy black beard. His piercing blue eyes, however, seemed to yield a light all their own. He glanced around. "A touch decadent for Captain Dillahunt."

Nathan took a seat behind the desk and gestured toward one of the two seats in front of the desk. Blackbeard walked over but refused to sit. He paced slowly, his hat gliding along the bowed canvas. He regarded Dillahunt for a moment. "If I didn't know better, I'd wager this man survived a battle with a shark."

"You might say that," Nathan replied.

Blackbeard's eyes found Nathan's. His right cheek was creased. Was he smirking under all that fur? "Did the shark survive?"

"I know why you're here," Nathan said, not in the mood for games. He knew he should be pissing himself with fear, but Blackbeard had nothing to hold over his head.

"And here I thought myself subtle."

"You want Benjamin Hornigold."

"Hornigold?" Blackbeard scratched his beard and looked up, as though searching for a clue. "That name be familiar to me as well, though far more troublesome. It's like I've put it away, for it harkens unsettling history."

Nathan smirked. "I doubt you've forgotten the man that made you."

"Made me?" Blackbeard looked shocked. "You cannot make a man such as me; you can only watch in horror as I am born. Hornigold's name may find its way into a history book or two, but not without mine to context it. Give the man to me, and I will warrant him a chapter all his own. Unless Captain Dillahunt offers protest." Blackbeard turned, placed two fingers behind his ear, and favored Dillahunt with a moment's consideration. "It appears he does not." He turned back to Nathan. "Point me to Hornigold's whereabouts and I'll be on my merry way."

"Your merry way is littered with corpses," Nathan grated. "Don't think me evil enough to hand a man's life over to you with no better reason than making you happy."

Blackbeard feigned injury to his heart. "You wrong me, boy. I be nothing if not a fair man. You will of course be amply compensated. Emphasis on the 'ample.'"

Nathan spread his hands. "What could you possibly offer that I don't already have? A spare arm?"

Blackbeard shrugged. "Your life."

"Other than that."

"You do not wish to live?"

"Of course I do," Nathan said, confused.

"Of course you do not wish to live?"

Nathan hesitated. "Of course I wish to live. Doesn't everyone?"

"Do they not?"

Nathan sighed, quickly growing weary. "What are you playing at?"

"Strange," Blackbeard said, a crease in his brow. "Everyone claims a desire to live, but their words be so unclear when their life hangs in the balance."

"My words were perfectly clear," Nathan insisted. "It's your forked tongue that muddies them."

"Do not anger me, boy," Blackbeard suddenly glowered. "It's best to be clear with me, for my mind be easily scrambled, and my hand finds itself compelled by frustration." He laid his hand casually upon the hilt of his sword.

Nathan found a blade of his own tucked in the hollow of the desk. "If you came here to threaten me, you should have brought more than four men. I must say, I expected more from the mighty Blackbeard than childish word games."

Blackbeard was unfazed. "And I expected less from a child playing captain." He let his hand slide off the hilt. "I merely try your mettle, boy. Clearly there be more to you than meets the eye."

"Thank you."

Blackbeard slid out one of the chairs and slowly took a seat. Somehow, he still seemed very tall. His eyes held Nathan's. "You be quick to smile, but I see no glee behind it. Are you not a happy man, Nathan Adams?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"The inquisitive kind."

"Are
you
a happy man?" Nathan countered.

"I will be, very shortly. Fulfilled goals leave a man contented, would you not agree?"

Nathan sat back in his chair, trying to appear more relaxed than he actually was. His fingers did not leave the hilt of the sword concealed beneath the desk. "Some would say happiness is in the pursuit."

"Then mayhap you will not want what I have to offer. Not yet, anyway. Shall I dangle her just out of reach, only to steal her from your grasp once more?"

Nathan stiffened in his seat. "Dangle who?"

"Her name is Annabelle. She tells me you are acquainted."

Nathan didn't even realize he had stood until he heard the chair topple distantly behind his legs. The sword fell in the hollow of the desk, clanging loudly. Blackbeard smirked at the sound. Nathan backed away, his calves touching the overturned chair.

"I see she didn't lie," Blackbeard said.

"If you are lying," Nathan seethed, "you will not leave this tent."

Blackbeard choked out a laugh. "Ah, youth. I miss it so. Alas, my passion ignites only for revenge."

"Show her to me."

"My men row her to shore presently. I signaled them to do so when I first heard your name."

"A convenient bargaining chip," Nathan said skeptically. "How could you possibly know I would be captain?"

"I didn't know," Blackbeard admitted. "Your promotion be a stroke of fortune. I expected to bargain with you in secret, after talks with Dillahunt failed." He glanced at the wine cabinet. "My lips be parched."

Nathan moved over to the cabinet. He uncorked a bottle of wine with shaky hands and poured two goblets to the brim. He handed one to Blackbeard and then downed his own, wincing at each gulp. He had never much cared for wine, but he needed it right now. He quickly poured another. Blackbeard stared at him indifferently, sipping at his goblet. "Go easy, boy. Wine dulls the loins' ambition, and I suspect you'll need all you can muster."

"You are not what I expected," Nathan said, shuffling into the center of the tent.

"I am exactly what you expected," Blackbeard replied. "The present conundrum does not require the horrors foretold of me. They're all true. I would see your head mounted upon my bow, if it served my benefit."

"Lucky me," Nathan said, peering into his wine. He couldn't see his features within, only the outline of his head cast in blood.

"Do not mistake our bargain for amity."