The De'il and the Deep Blue Sea

The reason that Tom Pullings had insisted – nearly to the point of insubordination – that he accompany the lady on this dangerous mission was to ensure that he would be there to protect her in case she faltered. Gerald Bantam had not yet noticed, but now was such a time. As well as he had come to know her, Tom saw she was exhibiting a fatal weakness when the pirate crew was liable to turn on them at any moment. This unexpected turn of events could not have been foreseen, and the lady could not be blamed. Did her children know of her past as a pirate? And Captain Hawkes, who had far more to lose than Rose Stirling… would the pirates aboard recognize him and expose his secret?

Thus, perceiving her distraction, Tom knew he had to intervene while she collected herself. Though unable to rattle the cutthroats and brigands the way she could, he could use the trick of exploiting their terror of Old Flint's ghost. "Captain, set the ship about," he commanded with more confidence than he felt.

Bantam lowered his glass and frowned at Tom and then at Rose who was still studying the distant ship. Before he could speak, however, Tom held up a hand for quiet and looked up into the rigging with a worried frown darkening his brow.

"What is it?" asked old Bantam in a hoarse whisper as he looked upwards as well.

"For pity's sake, sir, set about," Tom urged in a near whisper, and then cast a furtive glance over his shoulder at Rose. "Quickly."

To Tom's surprise, the pirate sniffed the air like a hound and swung his head to look behind him to one side and to the other before muttering an oath in a truly frightened tone and going to shout orders at the crew. Tom caught the scent of a lady's perfume – orange blossoms – as he went to Rose. "We must go," he said in a low voice.

She lowered her spy-glass and looked at him with uncertainty in her unguarded expression. "How?"

"Let the Walrus retreat," he whispered, placing his hand on her arm. "One last scene to play, my sweet."

Looking up into his kind face, she drew in a deep breath and seemed to calm herself. "Will they let us go?"

"They may if Flint wills it," he told her. "I'll give the orders, but you must follow my lead. They are not afraid of me."

With a final glance at the Gallant, she nodded.

"Stay close to me." He went over to Captain Bantam with the lady following behind him. "You are to leave us in the gig and retreat. That frigate is coming for her, not you, and she will stop them while you escape."

"Leave you?" asked the captain in shock and confusion. "Now?"

"No," cried George Morton, striding aft to the quarterdeck. "Ye mean to cheat us out of our fair share!"

"You threw your lot in with a man who has Flint's death sentence on him," retorted Tom, but Rose stepped up next to him and he glanced at her. Was she going to handle this?

Her face was composed but very pale. "What proof did the Lubber tell you to bring? That I was done for?"

Morton hesitated, and they could see that he was thinking, probably about what kind of lie he could get away with. "Just a token," he muttered.

"And a grisly one, I should think." The two stared at each other and the air seemed to crackle between them. Tom grew more uneasy as he forced down jealousy. What was between the two of them? "A bit of skin, I imagine," she finally said.

"It were Flint's way!" he fumed, but his deep, guilty flush showed that she had hit near the mark. Still, Tom could not make out what they meant by a bit of skin. What could they bring to prove they had killed her? At once, his mind stumbled upon the answer and his muscles tensed: the skin with her tattoo, he realized, feeling a chill of horror run through his body like a tremor.

"How well I know," sighed Rose, and then she gestured at the sailcloth flag with the dark red rose painted on it. "Take my banner to him and tell him I'm gone to Davy Jones. You haven't much time to collect, though, so go there directly. I shall come presently to put a pistol shot in his head."

"That we shall, lass," said Captain Bantam.

"I say we put these two – " Morton gestured at the Surprise and Gallant with a jerk of his head. " – at the bottom of the sea, and then shall we all go to get what's owin' us."

"What's owing you, George Morton, is a hornpipe and a rope's end at Execution Dock," shot back Rose with venom in her voice.

Anger and pride finally overcame common sense: the first mate drew out his pistol and cocked it. Tom had only a moment to react, and it was too late to cut Morton down, so he moved in front of Rose, turning squarely to face the shot. Someone put out a hand to help him, Bantam perhaps, but he only managed to stumble and push Rose further aside. The ball whizzed by his head close enough for him to feel the breeze in its wake and with it, the fragrance of orange blossoms.

"Ye've got no more sense than a sea-turtle, ye miserable son of a whore!" bellowed Bantam at his first mate as Tom straightened himself. Morton stood, shocked, facing the barrels of two pistols, carefully aimed, that would not miss.

"You were warned," said Rose in a shaky voice. She aimed at his head, and there was no doubt in the minds of anyone who watched that she was capable of putting both shots between his eyes.

There was a long silence where the only sound was the wind snapping the canvas of the sails. Tom hid his confusion and looked around, for he had either missed something or did not understand. "Rose, he is not worth your powder."

"Aye, the foolishness is over," said Bantam, looking and sounding strained and frightened. "We never meant ye any harm, lass. Just this lad has too long a memory."

"Leave us here," she replied, uncocking her pistols. "Leave us in the gig, and go and get whatever payment you were promised. We are all square." She looked at Tom with tears seeping from her eyes and spoke with quiet resignation. "Assemble the men who rowed me here."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied automatically and hustled the eight Surprises down into the gig. By then, the pirate crew was back at work, setting sail to the south to escape. Rose had been left alone at the rail, and at first Tom had thought she had been gazing out at the approaching Gallant but she seemed to have her sight turned within herself. Hardly a look she gave him as she went over the side and down to the waiting boat below, but once they had cast off and were out of reach of the pirates of the Walrus, she burrowed in his arms and wept.