toward the stairs, their eyes gleaming with fear in the poorly lit cells.
It wasn’t a pirate, however, who descended the steps, but Captain Rogers’s nimble-footed cabin boy. As soon as the women saw him, they let out a collective sigh and surged toward the stairs.
Cries of “What’s going on?” and “Is it truly pirates?” filled the air as he stopped halfway down the steps.
“I been sent to tell you to gather your things and come on deck,” the cabin boy said. His skin was pale beneath the grime on his cheeks, and his skinny legs were shaking.
“Sent by whom?” Sara came forward to ask.
“Captain Horn, miss. Of the Satyr . ’Tis his ship that has taken us.”
The Satyr . She thought perhaps she’d heard of it, but she couldn’t remember what she’d read. “This Captain Horn is a pirate?”
The boy looked at her as if she were mad. “Aye, miss. Everybody knows that.”
It didn’t cheer her to have her fears confirmed. “And why has he asked that the women gather their things?”
“I don’t know, miss, but—”
“Come on, lad, that’s enough prittle-prattle,” shouted a coarse voice from above, cutting him off. “Tell themto be up here at once. Captain Horn wants the lot of them to present themselves on deck now or risk his wrath!”
The sound of that menacing voice sent the women into a frenzy. They dashed this way and that, gathering their meager possessions, cautioning the children, and drawing on their shoes, for many of them had begun going barefoot once they’d reached warmer waters.
Soon they were heading toward the stairs with rough canvas bags clutched in their hands. Most of them even carried the makings for their quilts. Before they could climb the steep ladder stairs, however, Sara moved in front of them. She wouldn’t let them go into this alone. Someone had to speak for the women, and it might as well be her.
“Listen to me, ladies. Remember all we’ve been talking about. No matter what they do to you, your soul is your own. They can’t touch it if you hold it safe within you.”
Her words seemed to give them courage, though it was a somber group who followed her up the stairs through the ’tween decks and then up to the top deck. The sight that met Sara’s eyes as she emerged into the brilliant sunlight was a sobering one. The Chastity ’s crew lined the sides of the ship, guarded by the most presentable bunch of pirates she’d ever expected to see.
For one thing, they were clean and orderly, quite the opposite of Captain Rogers’s none too fastidious crew. How could these men be pirates? Why, there wasn’t an eye patch or a hook among them! And as the women massed on the deck, they didn’t hoot or grab at them or make any lewd remarks.
But their indecent attire certainly befitted pirates. Leather vests predominated, often without so much as a scrap of a shirt. She’d never seen so many bare-chested men in her life…nor so many heads of shoulder-length hair.
Then she caught sight of their weapons and her bloodfroze. Knives with carved bone handles gleamed in their hands, and a few had pistols tucked into their belts. They might be clean and orderly, but those weapons made it clear what they were here for. All too clear indeed.
Before she could brood further on it, however, a stocky, bearded man with a wooden leg ordered the women to proceed along the deck to the bow. There they found more pirates, a crowd that far outnumbered the Chastity ’s crew and even perhaps the women themselves.
Then the crowd parted, and she was given her first glimpse of the man who could only be the Satyr ’s captain.
He stood with his legs splayed apart and his arms crossed over his open-necked white shirt and leather vest, a serious expression hardening the already harsh angles of his face. With narrowed eyes, he watched the women crowd onto the decks.
She didn’t know how she knew he was the captain; she just did. There was a certain haughtiness in him that was
It wasn’t a pirate, however, who descended the steps, but Captain Rogers’s nimble-footed cabin boy. As soon as the women saw him, they let out a collective sigh and surged toward the stairs.
Cries of “What’s going on?” and “Is it truly pirates?” filled the air as he stopped halfway down the steps.
“I been sent to tell you to gather your things and come on deck,” the cabin boy said. His skin was pale beneath the grime on his cheeks, and his skinny legs were shaking.
“Sent by whom?” Sara came forward to ask.
“Captain Horn, miss. Of the Satyr . ’Tis his ship that has taken us.”
The Satyr . She thought perhaps she’d heard of it, but she couldn’t remember what she’d read. “This Captain Horn is a pirate?”
The boy looked at her as if she were mad. “Aye, miss. Everybody knows that.”
It didn’t cheer her to have her fears confirmed. “And why has he asked that the women gather their things?”
“I don’t know, miss, but—”
“Come on, lad, that’s enough prittle-prattle,” shouted a coarse voice from above, cutting him off. “Tell themto be up here at once. Captain Horn wants the lot of them to present themselves on deck now or risk his wrath!”
The sound of that menacing voice sent the women into a frenzy. They dashed this way and that, gathering their meager possessions, cautioning the children, and drawing on their shoes, for many of them had begun going barefoot once they’d reached warmer waters.
Soon they were heading toward the stairs with rough canvas bags clutched in their hands. Most of them even carried the makings for their quilts. Before they could climb the steep ladder stairs, however, Sara moved in front of them. She wouldn’t let them go into this alone. Someone had to speak for the women, and it might as well be her.
“Listen to me, ladies. Remember all we’ve been talking about. No matter what they do to you, your soul is your own. They can’t touch it if you hold it safe within you.”
Her words seemed to give them courage, though it was a somber group who followed her up the stairs through the ’tween decks and then up to the top deck. The sight that met Sara’s eyes as she emerged into the brilliant sunlight was a sobering one. The Chastity ’s crew lined the sides of the ship, guarded by the most presentable bunch of pirates she’d ever expected to see.
For one thing, they were clean and orderly, quite the opposite of Captain Rogers’s none too fastidious crew. How could these men be pirates? Why, there wasn’t an eye patch or a hook among them! And as the women massed on the deck, they didn’t hoot or grab at them or make any lewd remarks.
But their indecent attire certainly befitted pirates. Leather vests predominated, often without so much as a scrap of a shirt. She’d never seen so many bare-chested men in her life…nor so many heads of shoulder-length hair.
Then she caught sight of their weapons and her bloodfroze. Knives with carved bone handles gleamed in their hands, and a few had pistols tucked into their belts. They might be clean and orderly, but those weapons made it clear what they were here for. All too clear indeed.
Before she could brood further on it, however, a stocky, bearded man with a wooden leg ordered the women to proceed along the deck to the bow. There they found more pirates, a crowd that far outnumbered the Chastity ’s crew and even perhaps the women themselves.
Then the crowd parted, and she was given her first glimpse of the man who could only be the Satyr ’s captain.
He stood with his legs splayed apart and his arms crossed over his open-necked white shirt and leather vest, a serious expression hardening the already harsh angles of his face. With narrowed eyes, he watched the women crowd onto the decks.
She didn’t know how she knew he was the captain; she just did. There was a certain haughtiness in him that was
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