Jobah’s dark eyes blazed down at me, igniting a fire in my soul.

I hurried up the ladder to his side to prepare our attack and rid the sea of men more evil than me.

12

I balanced my boots on the jib-boom, a spyglass to my eye, and a hand clenched around the tack for support. The smoke of cannon fire lingered, the raw scent of it clinging to the back of my throat. With it came the bitter taste of disappointment.

The cargo ship had surrendered upon the first shot we lobbed across her bow. Had they been anything other than slave traders, I might have let them live.

Evidence of their evil lay in the hull, which had been divided into holds with little headroom and endless chains swaying from beams and snaking across the decks. All meant to restrain hundreds of captives. And all of it empty.

The slave ship had already delivered her cargo to St. Christopher island.

I lowered the glass and found Jobah standing beside Reynolds near the helm. Together, they watched the sea swallow what was left of the burning ship off the larboard beam.

We’d killed every man on board, save two.

Two badly beaten, malnourished slaves.

They were now on my ship, under Ipswich’s care. It wasn’t the first time my surgeon had nursed outsiders back to life. He grumbled and griped, claiming he didn’t have to obey a woman’s orders. But the cantankerous old fool secretly enjoyed it. He wouldn’t have stayed with me all these years otherwise.

When the last spar of the slave ship sank beneath the tide with a bubbling burp, I pulled in a deep breath and shouted, “Weigh anchor! All hands prepare to make sail!”

I jumped down to the forecastle and crossed to the rail that overlooked the expanse of Jade’s stunning upper deck. With her topsails clewed up from battle and her stalwart stem poised to smash through wind and water, I tilted my head back and let the splendor roll through me.

Sunshine heated my face. The breeze whipped my hair, testing the grip of my hat. Sea spray misted my clothes, and I soaked it all in.

My father had once stood in this very spot, commanding a different crew and earning their loyalty, battle after battle. How fortunate was I to follow in his footsteps.

I would never forget that. Never take it for granted.

Seamen clamored fore and aft, bare feet pounding across the deck. The windlass groaned, and the kelp-slimed anchor cable snapped taut, swinging out of the sea.

“Get those jibs up.” I descended to the main deck. “When we clear the wreckage, raise the mainsail.”

Shouts rang out in acknowledgment, followed by the cheerful song of working men. Their chanting tune narrated each maritime task, setting the rhythm as they hauled lines and swung yards.