Ahoy!
Thank you to Mel, Jill, and Gemma!
NINETEEN
It has been a long time since I've stood as captain of a ship. It feels wrong to be doing so as a form of deception, but as I stand upon the deck, gazing at the isle that hosts Cape Verde, I cannot deny I've missed this.
A portion of the crew is gone, tucked away in smuggler's hatches that I had no previous knowledge about. When I heard Captain Thorne speak of them for the first time, I'd nearly jumped ship then and there. I should have expected that any associate of Isabella's would be as morally corrupt as her.
Jasper stands beside me as we sail into the port of Cape Verde, and though he says nothing, his presence is a steady rock beside me.
His calm confidence helps me find my own again, and by the time we are ready to board the long boat and row to shore, I feel competent and able once more.
I am a captain; there is nothing to which I am unaccustomed.
Jasper and I travel to shore with a small selection of sailors. Though I don't care if men and women sail together, the superstition is still so great that I ask female sailors to stay aboard the ship while we go into town for supplies. I can feel the tension in the crew from my request, but it's a matter of strategy. I need to be in and out of this port with the least amount of attention upon me as possible.
The men row us toward land, and Jasper looks me over. "Are you armed?"
I turn to him in surprise. He knows I keep a flintlock pistol on me whenever we are at port. I tap my waist to remind him, and he shakes his head.
"Here," he says, producing a thin but wicked-looking blade from a sheath at his waist. "This is by far faster than the pistol."
I take the dagger, looking up at Jasper. I'm surprised to note that he has a cutlass at his waist.
"Where did you get these?" I ask him.
He shrugs one shoulder, leaning back from me. "I've been practicing with a few of the crew," he says lightly. "They are rather useful."
Cutlasses are not unknown to me, of course, but Jasper and I have not used much more than flintlock pistols in many years. They are slightly less conspicuous than the blades, and often the threat of them is great enough to deter any conflict, even before it's started.
I take the proffered blade, attaching it to my belt. It is a foreign weight against my hip, and though I hope I have never a need to wield it, I must admit it brings me some small degree of comfort.
We continue to row closer to shore, and I can't help but take in the spectacular jagged spires that make up the isle's coastline. Carved by relentless winds and covered in thin sheens of green vegetation, the isles look impenetrable and foreboding.
We continue, the sailors aiming our small vessel just beyond a bend in the landscape. Cliffs give way to a glittering bay, and at the heart of it, a small bright town.
It is less established than the ports of the Caribbean, but it is no less inviting as we make our way to the docks.
Once we are able to tie up our vessel, I dole out instructions, assigning each sailor a task of acquiring different items. On top of the repairs we need to make, our stores need replenishing, and we don't have much time for me to barter everything.
Captain Thorne has assured me that all her men are prepared to obtain the required items. I am forced to operate on faith that she is correct.
I send the men off, trying to ignore the hungry gaze in their eyes as some set sights on the taverns near the docks.
"Will we be successful?" I ask, turning to Jasper.
He hums. "I believe so," he says after a moment. "Captain Thorne is deeply admired by her crew. I doubt they will so easily let her down."
I let out a heavy breath.
"I pray to God that you are right," I tell him quietly. He claps a hand on my shoulder, and it's a reassuring gesture.
"Come," he says softly. "It is a beautiful day, and for the first time in nearly a month, we are upon land. Let us enjoy the sights of West Africa."