Page 75 of If I Go Down with This Ship
“And what about the group of privateers who surrendered?What will happen to them?Will they sail with us forever?”
He taps his thigh, weighing his next words.“I have already offered places on my crew for any who want to join, you know that.The others have chosen to go with Charlotte.They could have kept the ship and sailed it themselves, but they did not want it.They could have fought like the others and died.Therewere any number of outcomes they could have come to, but most have chosen to live.”He sighs and drops my hand, pulling his knees up to his chest.
Like this, he looks almost boyish.
Innocent.
“It is a harsh reality of this world we live in,” he says after a long moment.“I could have lived an easy life in Boston, but instead I have fought for decades to sit in this sand beside you, sailing with my crew, taking lives when absolutely necessary.For many pirates, the sea is the only safe place, the onlyfreeplace.But privateers work both under the law and over it, oftentimes falling to piracy when they want, with papers to protect them.Papers that a crew like mine don’t have.I refuse to work with the British, to do their bidding all for a paper that forgives me of my actions.I refuse to live in their world, so I’ve forged my own.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.“That nothing is as easy as it should be, for you and your crew.”
He doesn’t respond, and my throat constricts, my tongue suddenly too heavy, my lips dry.Swallowing, I look out to the water, where the last rays of the sun bounce off the sea.
“You know, I’ve always been terrified of the ocean,” I say.
He chuckles.“That explains so much.”He’s quiet for a beat.“What changed?”
I shrug, searching the tide.“You, I think.”When I turn back to Silas, the hues of the sky are dancing in purples and pinks across his skin.“I think I was always terrified of the ocean because I felt likeIwas drifting.But with you, the world doesn’t seem so scary.”
I lean forward and press a kiss to his bare shoulder, tasting salt.
“The storm is shifting,” Silas says, running a finger down my arm.
“How do you know?”
He covers my hand with his and points to a spot of particularly dark clouds with our joined hands.“The purple.It’s often a sign of a coming storm.”
“Do we need to prep to leave?”
Silas shakes his head and drops my hand, falling back in the sand with a sigh.“Not until tomorrow.The ship is nearly ready.For now, let’s take a moment to just… be.”
I turn onto my side, cheek resting on my knuckles as I draw lazy circles across his skin.He closes his eyes, a soft smile curving his lips, and it’s in the stillness that I realize with a jolt that I want to tell him.I want to tell him about me, aboutwhenI came from, and how I came to be on his ship.There are moments on the ship, on the beach, with our crew, and in his arms that make me forget who I am and where I should be.
But I can’t play pretend forever.
And I know he has questions.Between the phone, my accent, and my obvious lack of knowledge of anything in this world, I have been nothing if not obvious, and he’s caught on to some of it, even if he isn’t asking.
His eyes flutter open, long, dark lashes sweeping over his cheeks as he cranes his neck to look at me.“What is it?”he asks quietly.
“Why didn’t you ask me about the phone?”
He frowns, propping himself up on his forearm.“The… what?”
“The phone—the thing I used to take photos and videos.”
“I don’t understand,” he says.
“Silas.”My pulse thunders as I lean toward him and take his hand in mine.I run my thumb over his turquoise ring, catching my reflection in the band.“What if I told you I’m not from here?”
“Laszlo, you have made that abundantly clear.We had an entire conversation around it.”
“No, no.”I sigh and run a hand through my hair, pushing the mess of curls from my eyes.“I’m not from…here.”He stares at me silently, lips quirked.“Like,herehere.”
“Laszlo, I’m not understanding.”
“You know the phone?The weird rectangular thing I showed you yesterday?”He nods slowly.“Thatis not from… how do I say this?”
“I’m not sure,” he quips.
