The third ship comes a few months after the second.
It is a foggy day. The sky is sullen and grey, the sea is as restless as a young child. There will be a storm tonight, and Captain Lawrence has everyone busy making the ship even sturdier.
I catch a glimpse of Pete, in a thick coat like the rest of us. He smiles at me briefly before continuing his task.
I have seen little of him since he was promoted to first mate. Rumor has it the Corporal will make him Private for his deeds in the battle against the pirates. I wish my old friend the best of luck.
George comes around with mugs of tea for the sailors. I thank him, and gratefully drink mine, enjoying the warmth.
Beside me, Amos shivers and pulls his coat closer as he drinks his tea. He has been deemed old enough to start 'man's work' (although a woman does it regularly).
He is so small, though, and I worry about him.
With a pang, I think of Robby, Nell, and Mama.
I imagine Susanna bustling about the household, tidying up for the holiday season.
I imagine father – I catch myself – the Commodore in front of the fire smoking his pipe.
No wonder there was so much resentment between us. I am the daughter of the man his wife once loved.
Hearing the story, I doubt Mama even loves the Commodore.
I know they are friends, at least, and he is good to her and my siblings. That, at least, comforts me.
I am so immersed in my thoughts I tie a knot wrong. John elbows me. 'Ray, pay attention!'
I mutter insults half-heartedly, and tie the knot properly. It is then the lookout sees the ship.
'Ship! A sail!'
The Corporal strides pompously out onto the deck. I can't help but sneer at him. Amos and John simultaneously elbow me.
I glare at them, but stop sneering.
'What are her colors?'
'A British flag, sir! From the looks of it, she's a merchant!'
'Then we have nothing to fear!'
She comes alongside us. 'Ahoy!' A man shouts from the deck.
He must be the captain.
He is dressed in a cream-colored shirt, brown velvet waistband, plum colored breeches, and a deep crimson coat. Rings shine from his fingers.
He has deep green eyes and smooth brown hair tied back into an elegant ponytail. He has a rather large nose, though.
I can't help but admire the man's style. Mama and Susanna were more of an influence on me then I thought.
The Corporal has obviously noticed how well-dressed the stranger is, because his eyes go wide with greed.
Once again, I thank whichever deities may be listening that I did not marry this man.
'Care to step aboard, sir?'
'Don't mind if I do.' The Captain summons two men with a wave of his hand. They are as well dressed as their captain.
One is dressed in a silvery shirt, green satin waistband, forest green breeches, and a navy coat with silver trimming.
He has golden-blond hair and light grey eyes. A faint scar runs along his cheek, as he surveys his surroundings with intelligent eyes.
The other has coarse black hair with streaks of silver.
His shirt is violet, with a blue waistband. His breeches are deep blue, and his coat is scarlet.
His eyes are brown, and they have a cynical look about them as he takes in his surrounding with interest.
The Corporal has obviously determined that these are visitors to be respected. He holds out his hand to the man I think is Captain. 'I am Corporal Bryant. You are - ?'
'Captain Smith.' I was right. 'And you, sir, are advised to put your hands up if you wish to risk bloodshed.'
Captain Smith brandishes a pistol, as do the other two men and the ones that have come aboard.
We are clearly outnumbered. The ashen-faced Corporal puts his hands up.
The Captain turns to his men. 'Find the other officers and tie them to the masts.'
When all the other officers are tied to the masts, the Captain turns to look at all of us. My hand is on my sword.
The Captain sees this movement, and he loses his fearsome look. In fact, he laughs.
'Easy, Lad. We won't kill anyone unless we need to.'
John steps up beside me, hand also on his sword. I make sure Amos is behind us. The Captain laughs again.
'Such spirit! I love it. As you may have guessed, we are, indeed, filthy pirates.'
He says this quite cheerfully, and I begin to suspect the man is mad.
'Now, you have a choice. You can join us, if you wish, or you can be put in a boat with these fine officers and enough food to make it back to land. What do you say?'
George comes out of the galley. The Captain sees him. 'A cook! Sir, we would be most indebted to you if you would join our fine company.'
He gestures to his pirates. 'Anthony can't cook to save his life.'
The pirates laugh, on one scowls in mock-indignation. John, Amos, George and I look at each other. We walk over to join the pirates.