Page 58 of If I Go Down with This Ship

“It is because of me that we were betrayed.Because of me that we were caught in the storm.”

“No,” I say with a shake of my head.He shifts against me, and I wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him closer.I swallow and barrel on, offering him this small piece of me.“I was betrayed once, too, Silas.I trusted someone very close to me.”

“What was their name?”

I hesitate.“Julian.I trusted him with something very special and private of mine, and he stole it.But it wasn’t my faultthat I trusted him; it was his fault for taking advantage of my trust.”

“You don’t deserve that,” he whispers.

“Neither do you.”

He’s still for a long, quiet moment, and then he’s shaking.Silas makes no sound, and says nothing, but I tangle my hands in his hair and pull him close, lips pressed into a thin line as I rest my chin on his head and let him cry.

Sometimes, that’s all people need, a good cry.Him most of all.

19Sand-Sational

I wakealone as the first bit of pink light seeps in through the windows, the place where he was curled into my side only hours before cold to the touch.Tamping down my disappointment, I slide out of bed and dress.When I reemerge on deck, Silas and Astra are already at it, heads bent close as they peer over the map.Astra looks up, but Silas’s eyes remain cast downward.

Is he embarrassed?Fearing for the lives of his crew is rational.Sometimes, the only way to grieve is to cry.

Or did I tell him too much?Did he sense my half-truth when I told him about the journal?

Silas knows I’m here, though.There’s a twitch of his hand, and his left foot slides out and points to me, pulled like a magnet.Sighing, I climb the steps to the main deck and squint out over the water.The sky is on fire.Oranges and pinks casteverything in a warm tone that feels at odds with the gloom of the crew.

Jack claps me on the shoulder, startling me.“We’re making land.”

“How?”

He motions over my head to the mainmast.“We’ll make do.”

Jack waits a beat, brow raised as if he’s expecting something.Forcing a smile, I nod and hurry down to the mess to help Pip with breakfast.

There’s a somber feel about the ship as I hand out bowls and mugs to the crew.They take them with weak smiles or blank expressions, and I wish I could console them, tell them something that will quiet the grief, if only for now, but I have no words, no magical solution for any of it.

With even fewer crew members than before, it takes me no time at all to make the rounds, a sobering thought.They watch the main deck as the rest of our crewmates slowly wake, as if expecting the five missing pirates to reappear.Even Pip is silent as I return to the mess with empty bowls and cups.

“It’ll get better,” he promises as I scrub them.

I wipe my forearm across my forehead.“How do you know that?”

“You spend ’nough time at sea, you get a feel for these things.”

I nod slowly before stacking the last bowl.My knuckles creak as I open and close my hands.After holding on to the lines and scrubbing the dishes, the exhaustion is setting in.I want to sleep, to relax in a secluded place somewhere, and justrest.

But then I hear shouting up top, and nodding to Pip, I hurry down the hall and up to the main deck.Adrenaline zapping through me, I spot it, there on the horizon.

Land.

I laugh giddily, my muscles uncoiling as I spy the large piece of land rising out of the water.It’s not Nassau, not anywhere I know, but it is land, and using the few sails we still have, we’ve made it.

Silas has beaten the odds once again.

There is relief on the others’ faces.This ship is their home—myhome—but after the harrowing journey, we need a moment of respite from this place.It is full of dark memories, made darker by the storm, and a small slice of paradise is exactly what this crew needs.

With newfound energy, I help Mick and Hux ready the longboats as we near the island.Silas calls to drop the jib sail, and then the mainsail.As I tie off the line to the jib, Silas orders, “Drop anchor.”One of the crew members pulls the pin from the capstan, the chain rattling as the anchor plunges with aplopinto the water below.

It’s a sweltering day, a strange contrast to the biting storm we’ve braved.I wipe an arm across my sweaty brow and look out to the island.It grows larger as the anchor drags, tall, green mountains rising along a narrow coast decorated with palm trees.And before we know it, we’re stopped, the waves gently slapping against the hull as we bob in the water.