The non-broken routine became a habit, and they watched the dawn struggle to arrive the few following days, debating on relative merits of equity law, talking, meandering, or just listening to the ship sing at night as they sat in a companionable silence. All until she told him he didn't need to bring her water anymore, expanding it was because she didn't need it, no longer: he wouldn't have stopped failing that.
Candidly, Galloway did regret she had not embraced a subterfuge to stretch the string of the sociable nocturnal sallies, but she couldn't really entrench upon his time he was supposed to spend resting.
She turned her head. His hammock was empty. Gal could forego sleep for she was in for little to no strenuous activity at all, but Billy? The man did break a sweat. Is insomnia contagious?
The light was permeating the deck through the hatch above her head. The girl turned to the side. A lump was still jamming her throat.
A long wink. Someone was snorting to the God Save the King rhythm: she felt her hands tremble out of irritation in the truest sense of the word. What a zestful enthusiasm the ship had that night.
Her stomach turned and it barely had anything to do with the sway of the hammock. She hastened to sit up.
Shite.
Galloway let her feet dangle off the berth.
The girl wearily climbed to the aft deck and perched atop of the ladder.
Billy was on the quarter, she'd seen him, with his arms crossed on his chest marking the apparent desire for solitude as he watched the small waves crush against the board. Everybody needed seclusion, and she had been oh so shameless to invade his and force him to put up with her after a day full of putting up with other numpties. Good thinking.
She ran her fingers through her hair nape up and let her heavy lids cover her eyes.
It wasn't long until she heard dull thuds on the deck board behind her. Galloway moved aside to let the person pass, but that someone sat right next to her.
"Are you all night-birds now?" she breathed out turning to Joji.
He just beckoned to her hip.
"I cleaned it," the girl brushed it aside, but Joji produced a grindstone and that got her interested. "All right."
Galloway unbuckled the dagger and handed the hilt to the warrior.
She scooted over another inch to let the man get comfortable, but he chose to stand up, waving the knife he held by the blade, and leisurely walk away, with a mysterious smile on his face. Definitely purposefully, for in a second Billy's approaching figure was unhindered for her view.
Galloway peered at him as he stepped closer.
Moody again.
Repressing that wrath and grief, it did things.
But then a soft smile grew on her face.
"What is it?"
"You have a halo," she let out a tiny pearl of laughter. His face slid down, discombobulated. The girl dimpled up, "The moon, you're standing against the light."
Billy turned around. The moon indeed. He cast his eyes back at her. Halo.
"All's fine?" he lowered himself on the first step.
"Perfectly," she gave a nod of her head. "How's Jensen?"
Bones directed his eyes up. Galloway followed his gaze. The new rigger was twining the rope round himself, only half-intentionally.
"Feels like if there's a way to fuck up, he'll find it."
The girl pursed her lips, "It must be tough with a rope up there."
"Feeling wild to help him up?"
"Not necessarily," she chuckled.
"You know how to handle ropes…"
"You don't," she said in a roundabout way.
She must've meat the blunder of the couple of days before, but as she spoke, still looking up, the muscles in her necked moved – and something tickled in his throat – and he clearly saw the fading yellowish bruise.
"Jesus, I hope he doesn't fall," forced Bones.
"Or shite," she interjected and instantly sealed her lips.
"I'm not coping with the task," lamented Galloway and then elaborated when his face provided ignorance over the subject, "Abigail."
"Task?"
"I let it slip off my tongue once and her eyes got so wide," she said sadly. "Flint took me here because… Well, Miss Ashe, Mrs Barlow – if you have trouble with two women, the third one is a rescue…"
"I think it's meant for a different predicament," his eyebrows jumped as he grinned. "I don't believe she thinks ill of you."
Galloway's eyes roamed his face.
"How do you know?"
"Well, for one, she doesn't go white when Joji is around anymore…"
"She knows you're rescuing her…"
"But she still maintains a healthy measure of revulsion to the goddamned ship."
"Isn't it perfectly justified?" the girl gulped and looked up.
"More than."
"She says Charles Vane told her he'd throw her body into the sea should they not reach an agreement with her father. And she says he's the reasonable one. About Captain Low she doesn't even talk."
"Vane killed him. Not all the attempts at justice fail."
"She knows it wasn't justice. Not for her benefit, even if so. She doesn't believe in justice here."
"There's no justice for marginalized and unprivileged where she's heading, where we are heading, so she is quite right."
Galloway bit the inside of her lower lip, her face betraying an argument she hampered, and she pivoted, "Do you think she will be able to forget it like a ghastly dream?"
Billy didn't answer at first.
"We're just a few days shy of delivering her to her father. It shall be behind her."
Gal let her gaze fall onto the steps separating them as she nodded in a semi-faux agreement, hum vibrating from her throat.
"She calls bullshit on Silver," she smirked out of nowhere and Billy flickered his eyes at her.
"Well, she is indeed better informed about the colony…"
"It's not that. She's never been there for that matter..."
"Is it the high-sounding words that surprise her?"
"Right, and how they make up for the lack of … substance, sometimes."
"There's no might to keep it shut in this man."
"Oh, I know," she arched her brows. It was her who was stuck with him in the galley a good part of the day, "Bleedin' blether."
Bones didn't really know what Abigail was afraid of, he could only assume she harboured all sorts of feelings: but despite the fact she hovered around Galloway a significant amount of time, he never accorded nothing above polite attention to her. He resolved to get a closer look later, maybe. After all, she was a concern of Galloway's.
"Try covering the epithets, next time," he suggested.
The girl sniffled towardly, "Fair, on her account."
"Certainly not mine," the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. The girl smiled back.
Gal knocked and, upon hearing an invitation to come in, opened the door to the captain's cabin. Seeing the girl, Abigail rose to her feet.
"The fruit," smiled Galloway, setting a small bowl on the desk, and gestured for Miss Ashe to help herself. Another one-time turned routine. The girl bowed slightly, looking and James and Miranda.
"I hope, Mrs Hamilton, you wouldn't mind me catching a breath of fresh air," Abigail's eyebrows rose a little as her considerate voice filled the room.
Mrs Hamilton.
"No, darling," Miranda checked with Flint. "But take care."
The captain nodded, and Gal allowed the lady to catch up with her before they left the cabin.
"The sky is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" Galloway smiled as they walked to the board.
"It truly is amazing," Abigail fiddled with the twig of the apple she had snatched before going out. "I'm sorry to make demands on your time..."
"Not at all..."
"I simply can't be a handicap at the table there anymore. I believe the captain would prefer if I cleared the room, there's much to discuss … for them."
"Must be."
Mrs Hamilton.
The surmise was confirmed, and the girl felt her body go aflame. She reckoned the sole reason she hadn't yet collapsed was that the reduced capacity of her brain barred the mass of it all to sink in.
"Will you excuse me for a moment?" Gal touched the lady's hand, capturing her attention."I still have a thing to see to in the galley, but I shall be quick."
"Of course," murmured Abigail raising her eyebrows.
"Joji will keep an eye on you," she beckoned to her friend standing not far away. "A minute, not a second more."
Abigail nodded, smiling weakly.
The girl's fingers went trembling and she clasped her hands together. Galloway moved in the direction of the ladder to the deck below, back to Randall and that stupid pumpkin they struggled to cut. It all was incrementally making more and more sense and quite as much skidding to a halt. And then her step faltered: something flickered up the rig.
She squinted, trying to make it out, but it took a clearer form the following second, as Nicholas went crushing down.
He hit the deck and she believed she could feel the wooden planks tremble beneath her feet.
The crew flocked to his body like startled pigeons. Galloway walked forward, slowly, warily.
Someone was giving a shout for Howell, painfully pro forma.
And she saw him.
His skull fractured, limbs lifeless, bent at unnatural angles. The men around afoot.
"Don't let her come close, she's afraid", says an old lady, seeing the girl appear in the room. "She's going to faint…", "… pale…", "…trembling…", "…look". But she doesn't faint, she doesn't shake, her step is firm and determined. Lips pursed and brows straight. She makes her way to the coffin without faltering.
Decker hunched down to him.
Galloway receded, but only to bump into someone's chest.
She felt a belt and a handle of a dagger propping against her back. It was the body she had already felt that way before.
Billy put his hand on her shoulder, forcing her to step beside him, shielding her from the view. The girl didn't resist.
When he turned to sight her a couple of moments later, she wasn't there.
Galloway had rushed to Miss Ashe standing next to Joji, fright dancing in her large eyes, and grabbed her hand to lead her back to the captain's quarters.
Their unannounced entrance forced Flint up onto his feet.
He narrowed his eyes, alarmed, "What is it?"
"Nicholas," the girl breathed out and Abigail acknowledged the shaking in the hand circling her wrist. "Lost the footing or…"
Without a word, the captain shot off to the door. It banged against something outside when he left, having yanked it open. And now it was slowly closing, with a wailing sound.
"Come, sit," mourned Miranda in a whisper as she stood up.
Agitated, Abigail plopped on a chair next to Mrs Barlow's, but Gal stood still.
His face is pale, almost ashen. Prenaturally symmetrical. A line crossing his forehead.
Rest.
She thought she was bereft of reason, but Miranda's hands cupping her face pulled her back to her senses. The woman put a stray lock of Galloway's hair behind her ear.
Her name being called was battling through her attenuated hearing and she dumbly stared at Mrs Barlow's face for about a minute before nodding and closing her eyes.
"Can we talk?" she wheezed barely audibly.
"Later," Miranda answered alike, adjusting the hairs framing Galloway's forehead.
The girl's lids fluttered and she parted her lips again, but only to ask after Abigail, as if she herself hadn't gulped down fear and disturbance with practiced ease just a second ago.
Miranda had frustrated all Galloway's attempts to leave the cabin when Flint wasn't back fifteen minutes later, and seated the girls on a windowsill, stilling them. Something shadowy was now hovering under the ceiling like a fog.
She kept stealing glances at them: both trying to feed their presence of mind on small talk and peeling oranges with zero intent to eat them.
Another fifteen minutes and there came a knock on the door. Mrs Barlow turned short. James wouldn't knock on his own door...
It clicked open and Bones ducked his head, walking in.
"I'm sorry to bother… Galloway," his raspy voice forced the girl to unglue the eyes off the juicy flesh and acknowledge his presence. "It's Randall."
Galloway flicked a glance back to Miss Ashe, and the lady gave her a whisper of a smile.
Abigail trailed her movements as the girl stood up hesitantly and strode to the door that the tall pirate held open. He let her walk out first, surveying her somnambulate past him, mumbling a 'thank you.'
And he gave the ladies in the room a nod before following Galloway out.
Perhaps it all was not as putrid as her father had painted.
"Is he done with the pumpkin?" she fired before he could open his mouth.
"Yeah, had to help."
"It was adamant, never believed pumpkins were so tough to cut..."
"They can be," he frowned at the crown of her head as she kept avoiding looking up.
"Well, thank you..."
"Hey," Billy's knuckles brushed against the rolled part of her sleeve and she uneasily turned to face him when they reached the companionway. "You all right?"
He had already learned what her face looked like when she cursed inwardly, and that was the face, and that was the question she was tired of lying answering to.
"Are you?" Galloway shrugged, not truly angry. She cosseted him with a tender smilet she rarely bestowed upon anyone but Abigail and Miranda (a few times, Randall).
Bones sucked in his cheeks, breathing in deeply. Touché.
He missed how, but her hand cupped the back of his and she fit an orange into his open palm.
"Scurvy is a nasty lass," she explained and left to never appear on the deck until the next day.
Hew dewy touch fled as abruptly as it had come, leaving Billy dumbfounded, but with a conveniently peeled fruit.
The mess the following morning was dead silent.
Gal sat at a table, with Decker by her side, and sadly gazed at Abigail, drinking in her dear features.
She hadn't failed to notice the looks they shared. Miss Ashe and Billy. Right before Flint disclosed the story of Bones' past. The story Galloway had heard from Gates, but much more detailed, tinted by woe and paternal affection. Oh, Gates. Oh, Billy.
Galloway gulped down a lump.
Abigail was a flower. So pure. With her big eyes and big heart, with her soft voice and soft skin, smelling sweet and smiling sweet…
Did he fancy her?
The whole crew fancy her, save for Randall... and Joji, possibly.
That was a girl to desire. That was a girl to fall in love with.
Overcoming obstacles with gallantry, helping others on that way. With enough brains and luck not to fall from grace. Not to lose her virgin value by force of a night between the sheets with a man...
Bullshit. No sheets. No man.
You should've fought for it. You should've fought for it more desperately, you shouldn't have been afraid of death. He wouldn't have killed you. He is too much a coward for that… As if cowards don't kill.
She looked down into her bowl. Oh, was she sailing close to the wind: being sick right in the middle of the mess would be a performance to see. She pushed the food away.
Galloway was sinking lower and lower, the lasting humiliation and the notion of being, and staying, worthless burned itself into her mind. She'd changed, but she hadn't been given a choice. Of course she came across as questionable to Miss Ashe: her whole being incongruous with any setting, be it the pirate ship or high society.
Shite. The epitome of what her life turned into. Galloway squirmed, picturing her own face. Her dress long forgotten, her hair a mess since day one, the skin on her hands coarsening... she knew had she let all her strength concentrate in her hand, she would've bent the spoon she was holding. Frustration was building at a rate of knots.
The girl gulped down.
Bones registered the tension in her hand. And the degree of focus in her eyes set upon the lady.
He was seated not far from Galloway. Just looking. Since she didn't demure anymore.
She wasn't eating, just staring, her jaw loose, eyes tired and full of sorrow. And he followed her gaze only to find Abigail studying him.
Miss Ashe offered him an innocent smile and averted her regard to look at the person Billy was so lost in. Tables were slowly turning, and when Gal finally had the object of her observations cast her eyes upon her, she smiled.
She knew whom the lady had been watching. And that stupid feeling inside seemed absurd.
Gal stood up, rolling her sleeves.
"Ain't gonna finish?" Decker beckoned to her plate.
"No," she smiled again, shaking her head.
Galloway sidled in between the tables, and went up the aisle to the cook room, trying to ignore the feeling that at least a couple of people were staring at her. Then she felt something more tangible: a slap on her bottom.
"Ahoy, lubber, if he gets your food, what do I get?" laughed the pirate, not retrieving his hand.
"Remove it," she said plainly, looking at the man over her shoulder. The spite in her eyes clear and sharp, but underfoot. "'s awful stupid," well, the crew was in the middle of the mess. The captain was there, and the two lady-passengers, not to mention the people who had all the makings to become the pirate's undoing. Mr Nocks was a new addition to the crew, Gal knew, and he hadn't been among them when they got the Man o' war.
"Come on, don't be a prude," judging by the fact he even ventured to lay his paws on her meant nobody had informed him about what happened to Vincent back there.
"Please?"
It had no effect. She expected as much.
"The code of conduct reads no striking one another on board, have you happened to acquaint with it? I wish not to get flogged over your cavalier attitude and moronic appetence to answer the call of carnal desires..." she slapped him hard on the wrist, throwing his hand down.
"Leave her alone," said Silver, bowing down to his place again, seeing the situation had resolved.
"Where do you think you're goin'?" Nocks' gripped her forearm.
His grasp brought her to spin and she faced him standing up.
"What part of 'remove you hands' is beyond your depth?" she pronounced in a lived-in voice.
"I didn't see it that you cunts aren't on a tight leash here," hissed Nocks right into her ear. "The code reads no she-dogs on board. If you happen to acquaint with it. And if you hold it that you are a part of the crew, you are under a vast delusion. So I advise you not to peacock and make it up to me before it hits the rocks," the man was leaning in and the girl could smell the stench of his breath.
"Look, brotha', you a' in no favou'able position," growled Joshua, quite under his breath, from not that far.
Miranda glanced up from her food, taking a pull from her mug, upon hearing it, and froze. That subtle shift of her expression led Flint to recognise the unrest just in time. He stretched his arm out to catch Joji by the wrist. The man was near rage. So was Bones (albeit he knew it perfectly well whatever he did would earn him another batch of moodiness on her part, but fuck it), Howell, Decker, Joji, DeGroot (even), a large group of no-names; some of the crew (Muldoon included) took to their spoons, twisting them in their hands. Some of the crew, though, seemed to be amused.
Flint kept holding Joji's arm and Mrs Barlow wished he had not. The girl would never overpower Nocks.
Galloway was aware of that. And she was also aware she didn't have to, she didn't even ponder it apparently, for the next thing Miranda saw was her giving an abrupt pluck at the longish hemp necklace decorating the pirate's neck. Galloway coiled it round her palm in one swift movement, pulling up. Silver aptly held the table in place as the man tumbled, his uncontrolled motion threatening to worry the spread ware. Nocks produced a sorry wheeze and the veins above the thread almost cutting thorough his skin went popping a little.
"Fuck off," she said almost entreatingly, defying Billy's advice regarding profanities.
He heard it, she knew.
Galloway didn't see Randall spit right into the man's bowl to ensure the meaning of the code sunk in quite sufficiently, as Nocks tried to flop back down. She didn't see he never managed to sit down as Flint let go of Joji's arm, giving a nod of his head, and the man took the assaulter under the arms to drag him to the main deck.
Billy followed the warrior with his eyes, knowing he alone would be more than just enough to deliver a legitimate scourge, and met – almost bumped into – Abigail's gaze. And if Bones wasn't mistaken, it wasn't unintentional. And if he wasn't mistaken, they were on the same page.
He already turned to the galley when Mrs Barlow crossed his path, quickly, but stealthily, not attracting much attention, and hurried after Galloway.
The girl fetched a pot off a hook on the go.
The seething anxiety burst out with coveted fervour. She sat on the floor, crouched like a wounded animal.
A light hand landed on her back.
Right, it wasn't her who closed the door.
Miranda rubbed her shoulder.
"Can we talk?" the girl almost wept as Mrs Barlow's palm stroked simple patterns on her back. The huge chunk of the transpired was still pending.
"Yes," murmured the woman. "But I shall pour you some water first, all right?"
The girl nodded, her pointer finger ran under her tearing eye.
Miranda planted a kiss to her temple.
The body bad disappeared, succumbing to the water.
Billy lowered his eyes, the jaw stiffened. It was his ultimate fate as well.
It shouldn't become hers.
She stood within call, Miss Ashe left her on her ownsome, joining Mrs Barlow on the quarterdeck. It was plainly visible she'd done so for Galloway: Abigail easily preferred the keen display of support the girl offered. But the girl longed for space.
Gal closed her eyes, banishing the thoughts out of her head. She wished not to think of the duties that awaited her below the deck. The mere mind of food retched. Randall was acting off: must've been because of the death that had crept up on them in such a barbaric manner, and because of the proximity of the uncertainty that was Charlestown.
She just wanted him by her side, teaching her things, telling her stories, making her laugh, hugging her, sniffing her hair.
Her hand balled in a relaxed fist as she imagined squeezing his hand. He would stand next to her and point forward, explaining why they could see the moon in broad daylight. And then somehow he'd drift away to another topic, his university lads, or recollecting his fist voyage to the West Indies. Please, guide me.
Her stomach muscles tensed and she swayed a little.
I miss you. So much.
All it took was crying, but she couldn't afford it. She never had a moment, a proper moment to mourn. They started kicking her the minute he stopped breathing. If not earlier.
I'm desperately afraid, father.
If she went soft, it all would be over. As much as she needed to get rid of the water weighing down the boat she was sailing, she had no time for it. She had no aid. Idelle was the first person to see her cry in months, she was the first one to help her unburden, but that tiny hysteria was equal to dragging water out with a cup. And Galloway was taking on much more every day, the boards hardly half a foot above the surface.
I nill to live without you.
The girl opened her eyes. The crew set to work. Yet someone was burning a hole in her and she got aware of the feverish thrill possessing her body.
Joji. Is he judging me for swinging the lead?
She sheepishly turned her head. Not Joji.
She smiled at him and reverted her eyes to the horizon again.
I know you are displeased with me. But let me wish death on myself when it is all over.
Please, answer.
Father.
Let me know when you want to see me there.
Don't be vexed if I rush in.
Dad.
I miss you.
This is stupid.
Why is it that way?
Dad. I love you. I always will.
A treacherous tear run down her face. Oh, quit looking at me, Billy.
Galloway dropped her head, turning away – there was nothing for it but that - only to see the most unsettling scene since when she walked on the carpenter jerking off. No, that was downright unparalleled.
She left her spot the same second, for Randall went on the deck, enunciating profanities in a painfully high-pitched voice.
Billy grimaced at the sight of him trying to chase one of the crew, claiming the pirate had stolen his peg leg. And Galloway had to take Randall by the arm, reassuring him that the leg, for that matter, was attached to his stump at that exact moment.
"Will you see to it? While I'm away."
Billy wrung his head round to see the captain approaching. He pointed at the main mast.
"Sure," Bones squinted at the sails.
"Funny it is," Flint locked his hands behind his back. "We never know when death will welcome us into her shady embrace, do we?"
Billy eyed the captain, staring down on him.
"If I didn't know you I could say it was a threat," he translated his look onto the sky.
"An advice," James arched an eyebrow. "Time and tide..."
His hand landed on Billy's back with a dull clap.
The advice was an omen. For both of them.
The man of war steered into the Charlestown bay and manifested an item for the crew: tension. Gooey like honey, thick like pudding, detestable.
Galloway tucked some locks behind her ears and smoothened her hair yoked into a braid. Abigail was hesitant at first, but came up to the girl nevertheless.
Gal beamed, stretching her hand forward to squeeze Miss Ashe's palm, but the lady stepped closer.
Neither of them knew how improper it was, if it was so, but neither of them cared. What were the rules of decorum anyway? Their embrace was feather-light, more sisterly warm than awkward.
"Fare you well," Galloway bit her lower lip, inclining her head, as they drew back.
"Take care, Miss Gates," there was so much more she was willing to say to the girl, but she reckoned they reached a tacit understanding, and that was the best way to transmit that caring. "Thank you."
"She will be all right."
"I know."
Galloway turned to Miranda.
"Good luck," mouthed the girl.
"Thank you, it might be an asset," Mrs Barlow pulled on a strained smile, but her face relaxed after a moment.
They clasped their hands in a goodbye.
The girl watched Abigail gracefully struggle getting in a longboat, and only when the last sentiments in the form of weak smiles and waving hands were rendered, Galloway stepped away from the board.
She opened the journal and the crisp, blank pages easily separated from the ones covered with Abigail's neat writing. The paper was slick and smelled old, and the ink that bled through the pages swirled, taking after the lady's calligraphy.
All doubt had evaporated when Abigail had closed that log earlier that morning, and parked it on the desk, raising those deer eyes at the girl.
"Do you want it destroyed?"
"I don't see why it shall be kept, but…" she pressed her fingers on the cover and pushed it an inch towards Galloway.
It took a moment to sink, and when it did, the girl dimpled up, from the bottom of her heart.
She wasn't lost. That girl, the purest person that had ever set her foot on those decks, trusted her. Despite everything.
There wasn't any 'despite' for Abigail, really, "With you I'm… certain."
Galloway was granted the permission and she ran her open palm against a page, stroking it.
She read it with due consideration, wandering closer to the big windows of the captain's cabin, drifting free…
"Hey. Heyheyhey," Muldoon rushed in. "Go calm that madman down!"
"Excuse me?" she lowered the journal, turning round. Billy steadily walked in behind the eggshell.
"Randall be up again..."
"And instead of dealing with him you went looking for me?" one of her eyebrows sank.
"Aye!"
"Pure dead brilliant," the girl shook her head, turning back to the diary. "Find Silver, it's his turn."
"'e's in the privy."
"Valid point," she didn't look up. "Then you do it."
"But..."
"I'm going to not do that."
"Are ye readin' the lady's inkshed?" Muldoon crept up to her side, but she pressed the journal to her chest before he could get a glimpse of a word.
"I am," she finally scanned him. "And she writes you are a sharp lad, who keeps his head and puts things that fly into a rage in order."
"An' whom else she writes about?" the bald man was indomitable.
"It's only just you," Galloway put on a sugary smile and Billy chuckled, sitting on the edge of the table.
"Bullshit," Muldoon moved his head back. "She 'as to mention Bones. 'eard the ma'am say the lady took interest in our mate."
"No surprise," Gal raised her eyebrows, trying to duck from his attacks on the diary.
"Whatever, back on me," he grinned. "What else?"
"She says you are marvellous and awesome," Gal dug him in the soft of the stomach with the spine of the diary as he kept dancing around her. "But she's not too fond of that dreich...hairdo layout..."
Muldoon straightened, putting his fists on his sides and bending his spine back a little.
"She's not that Irish, Galway," he quipped.
The girl, pursing her lips, fixed her eyes on Billy, who simply laughed, hanging his head.
"I'll tell Randall ye stole 'is leg…" Muldoon went on.
"Success attend you!"
The pirate nodded, reassuring her.
"Now will you please sort him out? Just take him below the deck and..."
"Don't teach granny to suck eggs, I know what to do."
Her eyes didn't bug, as Billy'd expected, but she rubbed her brows, frowning.
"Will you let me be already? What is that with you today, worm?"
Muldoon didn't answer. He retreated, smiling and wagging his finger at her.
The girl breathed out through the nose and looked at Billy.
He kept grinning.
"It's amusing how you still tolerate us."
"It's amusing how you still tolerate me," she put the diary on the table.
"What is there to tolerate?"
"You tell me," the girl smirked and reached for a quill.
"What is it?" he leaned over to get a closer look when Galloway tapped on the quill lightly and let a drop of ink fall onto the paper, blotching over something.
"Miss Ashe wrote 'her', clearly referring to... not Mrs Barlow."
Billy skimmed the page to spot 'the tall man' and 'he' scattered around it, clearly referring to someone he was acquainted with.
"No surprise?" he said over, glancing at Galloway.
"Hmm?"
Bones simply pointed at his appearance in the log.
"Oh..." it was a feathery frown followed by a tight smile. "Well, you are the Billy Bones, aren't you?"
"Um... yes?"
Galloway shrugged, as if it really answered it, and held the book up, level to her eyes, flicking the page back and forth to make certain there was no trace of her left.
"Do you intend to keep it?"
"Miss Ashe said I could and... yes, I guess."
Billy nodded, letting his eyes soak in some more words, but her fine hand slowly closed the journal. Bones peered up at her, raising the brows in query, and Galloway smiled.
"I don't think... she would appreciate it."
"Right."
"There's nothing bad about you," she assured, seeking to smoothen the rude interruption. "Nothing bad about any of you, for that matter."
"And what about the perfectly justified revulsion?"
"It's not...that," Galloway inhaled deeply and then sharply breathed out. "She is intimidated. But she's devoid of prejudice and preconception... not entirely, but... You see, she is asking questions," the girl was looking into his eyes searchingly, checking for comprehension. "Instead of making up the answers. She questions what they take for granted, but, God, it might not aid her there," she swayed her head in desperation.
"Hey, she will be all right. Home, tended, sheltered, secure. Miss Ashe is smart and educated enough to resist being kept in endearing ignorance, you say she is so…"
Galloway chewed her lower lip and, throwing a glance at Billy, folded her arms and slowly turned to walk to the window.
"I know what you imagine, but her being abducted by pirates, continuing captive and sailing under the death will not get her shunned and shamed, ostracised," he exhaled and licked his lip, looking at her back. "You will not be ostracised there, for none of it."
"What do I have to do with it?" she said absently.
"Wait…"
Galloway wrung her head and arched an eyebrow at him.
"Captain is there… to arrange for you as well."
"All of us," she corrected, shrugging.
"No, us and you."
Her countenance darkened and as she looked at him, he felt Muldoon.
"He's there to seek reconciliation and furnish you a home, rescue there."
Her neck moved when she swallowed, and Galloway turned back to the window.
"He'd better not."
"What?"
"I don't want to stall there."
"Galloway, don't be foolish," he stood up slowly.
"I'm not being foolish."
"You aren't serious: you cannot choose this over decent life..." his tune gone surly.
"You did," she peered at him again.
"Yes, I did," the bitterness tainted his words. "Because I grew enough of a beast to rip a man open."
"You're not a beast," she pleaded.
"I chose it because I had no route back..."
"He would've absolved you..." she whispered.
Rage came surging inside him, but it flattened. It wasn't her he was mad at. She only dared to assume so because she wanted it to be that way.
"You don't know it," he spoke cooly. "I don't, really. But it doesn't matter. I have blood on my soul, I made a brutal choice and I opted to never put him in the situation where he would have to choose between his son and his philosophy…"
"He could've been so cruel," she muttered, her preoccupation too heartfelt to let her know how disturbing it all was.
"You understand it is anything but simple."
"Did he not love you?" her brows bumped together.
"He did," Bones locked his jaw and gazed at the sea. "That is the reason," she evoked something he'd not touched in a good while and that wound opened to let out a runlet of warm. "He had a fascinating brain full of earthshattering ideas. But, essentially, his faith in his creed and purpose was fraying at the edges round that time, for no matter what we did, we were nowhere near truly changing things. What happened must've spurred, rekindled him. I hope it did, I'm sure it did. That must've been the virtue of it," he jerked one shoulder.
Her eyes, moving fast as she looked in his eyes, tore up and her lip trembled when she uttered, "No…"
"It all lingered in a situation barely acceptable, and the only way to acknowledge the gravity is to feel it on your skin…"
"Billy," she let out a shuddering breath. "It is. But he would've…"
"Maybe. I don't know for certain. I chose to choose."
"And do you regret it?"
Did he regret it?
His breath didn't flicker and he moved no muscle, but he knew her perusal was too sharp to notice what his eyes were telling her. He didn't regret taking farewell from the reign that put the ideology and doctrines before concerns and interests of ordinary people. And he did regret it to the same extent.
"You have a way back," he muttered after a long halt.
"You had someone to go back to. I don't. I didn't get to chose. The sole reason I didn't end it there and then and travelled all that way to Nassau was because my father told me to do so."
"Your father told you so?"
"Yes. He didn't say Charlestown, he didn't say Boston, not Spain, not France, not anything, but Nassau and Flint. He didn't trust anyone and justly so. The only person he trusted was the captain, and my father was the only person I could trust…"
"And you trust Flint? Reconciliation means bringing all of it to Nassau..."
"Not necessarily."
"And what if?"
"Oh, Billy, I don't know," she spun round, letting the dismay leak away. "There're other places out of royal reach or... I can't answer it. I don't know what to do, but I do know what not to do. Does it make sense?"
"Sometimes."
"I understand what my father wanted me to find there, in Nassau. What I don't understand is how he was so sure I would make it – perhaps Gates had the point and I am fucking tougher than I think. And I'm not 'rejoining society'," she said mockingly. "You know how much civilization is left there? It's now only a hollow word hovering over the turmoil like a ghost, like a shield that is see-through. I've been to Charlestown on my was to the islands, I've seen it, and it is no different from the places I fled."
"What the hell did he want you to find in Nassau? Forgive me, but I fail to see what convenience the Bahamas have against the colonies for you," he was galled, he didn't conceal it, but Galloway didn't seem to have trouble with that.
"Life? Without having to explain myself, knee in front of people imploring them to believe me."
"I'm sorry," he uttered and Galloway moved her head to perceive him standing next to her.
"For…?"
"What they've done to you."
The girl blinked.
She realised then that she had been enjoying the privilege of being the only person who could start that talk. She was far from the place where people knew about it. Here, no one did unless she wanted them to. And she didn't know what to feel now.
"Was it Flint?" her hand reached to rub the base of her neck and collarbones, trying to soothe the panic erupting inside. "Who told you?"
"Yes," he almost choked on the word.
"So that's where the pity comes from."
He made use of her eyes being closed and rolled his own.
"See now?" she whispered.
He didn't answer and she recognized the futility of the question – he knew it all along that conversation, for him there was no change. She was feeling sick again, and she opened her eyes. Bones was watching her, concern painted on his face unmistakable, and she knew she could use a way to avoid the second purge of the day.
"What is the point of going back? To the protocols and no swearing and enduring the looks and being frowned upon no matter what. What is there for me? Indulgence? If I go back I will let them ordain my fate again, and you bloody know how royally they can fuck up there. See, however stupid it sounds, aren't we… free that way? Am I finally not out that space where those men with water in their veins instead of blood, who seek to deny things to others for all the right and wrong reasons, believe they have the right to decide for me, as if I'm not equipped to do it myself?"
"You fucking are," like nobody else Bones knew that all the difference between Nassau and civilization was erased: it all came down to money, vengeance, collaborationism and pure treachery. "But don't you see what you're sacrificing?"
"Nothing," she almost raised her voice, her eyes gashing him. "That day… a lady on the street reached out for me with a coin in her hand. Because of how shoddy I looked," her nostrils were flaring. "And I refused, but I knew that second that this is what I chose over death that day. Then I thought it would simply be… dying from a disease, or freezing to death under a urine soaked wall in the slums of London surrounded by bastards desperate for a goddamn fuck with an easy woman that I, by that moment, already aligned with. I believed then it was the worst outcome that I would see – and Nassau is still much better than that but…" she trailed off and steadied for a breath. "But I caused his death. They killed my father. They allowed for it to happen, they all allowed for all of it to unwind and… There's nothing to sacrifice. And the last thing I want is to return that shite of a world that my father was fighting against and paid with his life and… I don't know how stupid it looks to you. You're welcome to judge, but unless you shove me into a canon and fire me onto that beach, no way in hell will you see me set my foot there."
There were doors Billy didn't fit through - that was true. He also had to bow down walking into the captain's quarters, but he felt had she had a poor hold on her emotion, she would've taken him by the collar and given him a shake he'd have remembered. She never raised her voice, but he felt small. Gates told him the strongest protest always burst from the most delicate chest…
But Gates also would've punched Bones in the face for making her so upset. And, fuck it, Billy was itching to punch himself. She breathed out shakily, lowering her head, and he felt her breath on his chest to finally realize the nearness they unconsciously reached. It felt so native to just reach for her and reassure, hold her by the shoulder, but he wouldn't.
"You didn't cause it, Galloway. None of it is the fault of yours, please don't…"
She puffed, cutting him off, and pressed her hand to her forehead, "Of course I did. Had I been killed none of it would've happened. Had I killed myself he wouldn't have been dead. Oh, Jesus, I should've…" the girl covered her mouth with her wrist. The violent heartbeat was pushing the tears to the surface and she was fighting a losing battle. "I should've married him and murdered him in his sleep and then been tried, but then it would be for something I had committed…"
"Stop talking," he shook his head, clenching his fists.
"… should've killed myself and saved…"
"Please, do shut up," his voice went a sliver louder and she pursed her lips. He never believed he'd say that to her, but he did wish she would close her mouth. For once in his life he would rather see a woman cry - he could see it coming - since he knew of the appeasing effects of it. But she didn't only shut up, she stiffened. You fucking bastard.
"Listen," Billy sat on the windowsill so that he could see her face – lips pursed and nostrils wide. "Gates was right about you. Your father was right about you. I wish he didn't have to subject you to it at all," he wasn't even sure she cared what he thought, but she opened up to him so genuinely, on an instinct, on an impulse, spilled out all the bitterness, all the poison that had been brewing inside, and boiling and hurting; and he felt he had to respond in kind. "I'm sorry to have made assumptions and I feel the urge to assure you there is no condescending pity that you accuse me of, all right? I merely wish you didn't have to bear and suffer it all. There're things Miss Ashe speaks not of, but so do you. And I know what it feels. But please know none of your hardships are your fault," Billy could see how hard it was getting for Galloway to keep her mouth shut, but he appreciated that she did. "I wish you weren't deracinated…"
"I wish you weren't, too," he was too quick to judge. The girl acknowledged her babble and bit her tongue, but Bones only chuckled, raising his eyebrows. She smiled back, dropping her eyes. "It's not that there's any help for it," she let her teeth scrap over her lip.
"Nah," he breathed out. "Gates would say… hold fast to what you think is right," she blinked up at him. "And to you personally he would say, be tough, but not against yourself. There are still heaps of shite ahead, so do hold fast. But remember that should you need help… just quit being a mule. The crew like you. We're here for each other."
She laughed silently.
"Don't you believe Randall?" he marveled theatrically.
"It's debatable that he ever said it," Gal shifted her weigh onto one foot. "I never heard it, could be just a figment of yours."
"I am a crew," he shrugged. "And I'm saying... you're very easy to tolerate."
He widened his eyes - he customarily did that to certify his words – and she liked that.
"Well, with you saying that, I'm certain it's not the case," she cocked her head to the side.
Bones dissolved into a smile.
There were a few seconds of pure silence before her brow twitched.
The girl bit the corner of her lip, hollowly moving her eyes onto the blueness of the sea outside.
"She'll be fine," he said. "She'll manage."
Galloway looked back at him. She suddenly beamed, brightly and purely, the sole mention of Miss Ashe erasing all the corrosive grime in the blink of an eye.
"She is a wonder, isn't she?"
"Well, if she calls bullshit on Silver, she more than just fit to survive whatever life has in store for her…"
"Do you happen to jot down everything I say?"
Bones embodied a smile.
Another moment of calm. The water murmured behind his back through the tiny hinged pane of the window. It sounded somnolent, and the air was fresh and tender. Something sent a long, slender reflection of the sun onto her neck and dimpled cheek. The cabin looked warmed by the sunlight, even the silver inkpot bore a yellowish reflection. She was eyeing the azure water, her lashes moving curiously.
"Utterly sorry to terminate yer sweet discourse, but Randall just attempted to climb the rigging," Muldoon jolted them back to reality, pleasantly out of breath: thus they knew he did try. "I. Rest. Me. Fuckin'. Case."
Bones was actually glad he reemerged, for he was afraid where that knowing she could use an embrace could lead him…
"And Silver is still in the privy, I reckon," Galloway sucked her teeth, turning around.
"Go check yerself, woman," he flung his hands up. "Pardon me fer bein' so simplistic, I would definitely take all the time it takes cajolin' ye, but, please, just come. Now."
The girl made a flowing motion of her hand, gesturing at Muldoon, as she glanced at Billy with a nod.
"They are good people," he encouraged.
"Positively," and then she dropped, walking away, "Pardon me."
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
His gaze fell onto the diary resting on the table.
It now seemed harder than ever. He knew he wouldn't canon her into safety. He learned the concept of safety was way narrower than he'd reckoned.
For all that, Bones recognized they had to see to it that one day she wouldn't be living that ghastly nightmare. He didn't know what it would take, but he was certain whatever it was – once she was on that safe side, once it all would be behind her – he could never see her again.