Chapter 9
Annabelle stood in the bow, leaning her forearms on the bulwark rail.
She glanced at Calypso, thinking of how just days earlier she’d felt so brave and strong.
Now, after hearing Hawke’s story, she felt uncertain.
She did not for a moment consider abandoning the rescue mission.
Nor did she believe in curses. But she was worried about what lay ahead and how it might affect the crew.
Hearing a noise, she turned around, finding Tim Kelly carrying the swabbing bucket and a mop. He inclined his head when he saw her. “Beg yer pardon, Lady Annabelle. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You’re not disturbing me at all,” she said, smiling. “And please call me Belle. The rest of the crew does.”
Tim didn’t smile back, which she found unusual. He set down the empty bucket and stared at the deck.
“Are you well today, Tim?” she asked.
Tim shook his head. “Worried, my la—Belle.” He glanced back to where the crew had listened to Hawke’s story. “’Bout the curse.” His thumbnails dug into the mop’s wooden handle.
Annabelle’s impulse was to tell him there was no need to worry, that the curse didn’t exist. But she wouldn’t make light of his fears. “I’m worried too,” she said.
Tim looked at her.
“But you can rest easy,” she told him. “Hawke won’t allow anything bad to happen to you.”
Tim nodded slowly. “Hawke’s good to me. Takes care of me.”
Annabelle pushed away from the rail and picked up the bucket. “Come along, then,” she said, making her voice cheerful. “We’ve swabbing to do. I’ll fill the bucket, and you fetch another mop.”
At last Tim smiled. He leaned the mop against the rail, making sure it was balanced against a belaying post and wouldn’t fall, then hurried off.
Annabelle took the bucket to the side, lowering it down on a rope.
Tim returned just as she pulled it up.
She set down the bucket between them, took the offered mop, and the two set to work, sloshing the salt water onto the planks and spreading it over every inch of the deck.
“Careful not to leave puddles, Belle,” Tim said. “Don’ want anyone to slip.”
They fell into a rhythm, swabbing and dipping, refilling the bucket as needed.
Once the main deck was finished, they sat for a rest in the shade beneath the quarterdeck.
Annabelle drew her knees up to her chest, putting her arms around her legs, and Tim leaned back against the gunwale, an arm resting on his bent knee.
“Do you have a family, Tim?” she asked.
“Had a family,” he said. “Long time ago. Had a wife.” He gave a gentle smile. “Her name was Elizabeth.”
Hearing the woman referred to in the past tense, Annabelle felt an immediate swell of pity. “What happened to her?”
“She died in the Great Fire. My parents too. And my sister.” His smile faltered, and his eyes were sad.
“Oh, Tim, I’m so sorry.” Although it had happened before she was born, she’d heard stories of the Great Fire and the devastation it had brought to London.
Tim nodded. “I’m sorry too.” He drew his knees up like hers.
“A terrible time, it was. I had a good job, then. Worked at a printer’s shop making books.
” He rested his chin on his knees. His eyes were distant.
“It started in the night, you know. Smelled smoke. Heard yelling. In only a moment, the whole world was burning. Before we could get out, the roof fell in. It’s just me now.
Doctors said I’m lucky to have survived.
” He dropped his arms, flattening his palms on the deck and pushing his legs out straight. “Don’t feel lucky, though.”
Tim took a round stone from his pocket. “Elizabeth gathered rocks,” he said.
“She loved sparkling ones. Put them on the windowsill to catch the sun. Had one shaped like a heart. Another like a toad.” He turned the stone over, studying it as he spoke.
“Everything burned away. The house, the bookshop, the windowsill. But rocks—they don’t burn away.
” He squeezed the pebble in his fist. “Love doesn’t burn away. ”
Annabelle swallowed against a tight throat, blinking away tears. She thought of the rock Tim had given her the first day they’d met. It had seemed such a silly thing at the time, but she realized now he’d given her a piece of his heart. She took hold of the toe of Tim’s boot, wiggling his foot.
When he looked up, she gave a smile. “You may not feel lucky, but the crew is lucky to have you. I feel lucky that you are my friend.”
He studied her for a moment, then gave a shy smile. “Thank you, Belle.” He pushed himself up, then reached down to help her to her feet. “I best swab the lower deck.”
Annabelle stood in the shade below the upper deck and watched Tim for a moment.
Her gaze moved to the steps up to the inner cabin, and a memory came into her thoughts.
She had been six, perhaps seven, and she and Court had been sitting side by side on a step, his arm around her shoulders as she wept.
“I thought you’d forgotten me,” she’d said through her sobs. “June first came and went, and you weren’t there.” She held her spyglass tightly in her fist and wiped at her wet cheeks.
Court rubbed her shoulder. “My darling Belle. I will never forget you.” He lifted her chin, raising her bleary gaze to his. “I may arrive late, but I will always come for you.”
She could feel the weight of his promise. “I will never forget you either, Court.” She sniffled and then wagged her finger at him just like her governess did when she misbehaved. “But you must try to arrive on time. Punctuality is very important.”
Court grinned. “Understood. In the future, I shall not allow a becalmed sea or contrary currents to detain me. Not when you are waiting.”
Annabelle had laid her head against him, breathing in his familiar smell as the panic of being forgotten, of being left behind, dissipated.
And while her worry had been a child’s misunderstanding, the feeling had been strong enough that even now, all these years later, she still felt the hardness in her belly.
Court had made her a promise, one that he had always honored, and now it was her turn.
She would find him, and no force on land or sea would slow her.
Annabelle stepped back onto the main deck, raising her face to the afternoon sun. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hawke walk past, and she wondered if he’d overheard her conversation with Tim. He didn’t slow nor did he glance toward her as he climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck.
Out of habit, she turned away, walking in the other direction and concealing herself behind the mast. A moment later, Shadbolt and Grieg strode past with quick steps, looking determined.
They would have stopped if they had seen her, so she leaned around the mast, watching them ascend to the quarterdeck as well.
The boatswain and first mate joined Hawke. Grieg spoke, and Shadbolt nodded in agreement. Hawke rubbed his chin as he listened, and then he waved over Mr. Stanley to join them.
Grieg spoke again, this time to the quartermaster.
Annabelle squinted, studying his lips as if she might discern his words, but without success. She tapped her foot against the deck, frustrated, and considered how close she could get without any of the men spotting her. She must know what was happening.
Mr. Stanley summoned Li Chen to take the helm, and the four went down the stairs and through the cabin doors.
Annabelle guessed they were going to the chart room to speak privately. She waited, giving them what she estimated was sufficient time, and then followed, stealing along the corridor as quietly as her boots would allow.
Annabelle glanced around, and then, certain she was alone, she pressed an ear to the chart room door.
“—men are uneasy,” Grieg was saying. “If we are to continue the voyage, we must convince the crew they aren’t in danger.”
“I won’t lie to them,” Hawke said. “What awaits us on that island is death.”
“But you didn’t die,” Mr. Stanley said. “And neither did Captain Courtney. There must be a reason why.”
“I have pondered that very question for years,” Hawke said.
“And I have no definite answer. Perhaps Courtney and I spent less time in the jungle than the others. Or the illness weakened with each person infected, and we were the last. Perhaps we received better medical care after we were rescued. Or perhaps it is because we were the youngest on the crew.”
The men were silent, and Annabelle worried their meeting was finished. She almost had pulled away from the door, ready to hurry off, when Hawke spoke again.
“What happened to Courtney after the voyage? We were all separated, and I never discovered where he’d gone.”
“Jamaica,” Grieg said. “Shadbolt found him there, retching in the street, hardly able to walk.”
“The English ship must have discharged him as soon they made port,” Hawke said. “Worried the sickness would spread among them. That’s what happened to me.”
“Did it spread among them?” Mr. Stanley asked.
“No,” Hawke said. “Only those who were on the island became ill.”
Annabelle frowned. The navy simply abandoned them in their condition?
“I took him to Madame Dauphiné,” Shadbolt said.
“Who is she?” Hawke asked.
“And what did she do?” Mr. Stanley asked.
“She is a healer,” Shadbolt said. “She put a talisman around his neck and mixed a remedy.”
So many sailors believed a talisman could ward off a curse, but it was not logical. Court and Hawke had both healed from the sickness—for that was what it was, a sickness not a curse—and their healing could not be attributed to magic but to the strength of their bodies.
“Do you remember anything about this remedy?” Hawke asked. “Anything at all.”
“The liquid was black,” Shadbolt said. “And it smelled rotten. Like brimstone—or bad eggs.”
“Or sulphur?” Hawke asked.
“Yes,” Shadbolt said.
“Just like the remedy Molly gave me,” Hawke spoke slowly.
“If we were prepared with this remedy before we reach Isla de Plata,” Grieg said, “it could save our crew.”
“Is Madame Dauphiné still alive?” Hawke asked. His voice had changed, some of the worry gone. “How do we find her?”
“After the earthquake in Port Royal,” Shadbolt said, “she went to Tortuga.”
“Then we shall go to Tortuga as well,” Hawke said.
Annabelle’s stomach twisted. Tortuga was not on the way to the Devil’s Triangle. These superstitions had gone too far. And now they would delay Court’s rescue.
From inside, she heard the rustling of papers.
“Mr. Stanley, we need to chart a new course,” Hawke said.
“No!” Annabelle pushed open the door. “We cannot go to Tortuga!”
Hawke turned, looking exasperated. “Why am I not surprised that you’re listening in on a private meeting?”
Annabelle didn’t care what he thought. Her hands shook as panic clouded her thoughts. “The voyage cannot be extended. We cannot delay one more moment. Court’s life is at stake.”
“Belle.” Grieg stood closest to the door. He took her arm. “You must understand.”
Annabelle pulled her arm away. “No. I do not understand.” She pointed at the men. “You came to me, fearful of what might happen to Court if we did not go after him with all haste. And now you intend to add a detour for a magic potion? How can you do this? How can you desert him?”
“The remedy provides the best chance of the crew’s survival,” Hawke said. “It will save lives. And that includes Captain Courtney’s.”
“No.” Her eyes were betraying her, filling with tears.
“No. You’re wrong.” She clenched her fists to ease their shaking.
“All that matters is saving Court. And time is of the essence. We must continue on the course that’s laid.
” She looked at each of the men, searching for a hint that they understood. “You must see. Please.”
“Belle,” Shadbolt spoke in a gentle voice, “without the remedy, it won’t matter when we arrive. It is our only hope.”
Hawke pulled a rolled parchment from the shelf. “Lady Annabelle, your concern is noted, but you do not command this ship.” He spoke without looking at her as he spread the map flat on the table.
She shook her head, then left the room, her mind racing.
There must be something she could do. Perhaps she could convince Beattie to talk to Hawke.
Or Tim. Could she hide the map? Her ideas became more and more improbable as she went inside her cabin and lay on the berth.
Her head ached, and she could not hold back her tears as desperation turned to hopelessness.