“Aye, aye, sir. I’ll do my best to shoot only pirates.”

“Good man.”

Though the sea was calm and the skiff’s crossing smooth, Kennan still clamped his jaw so tightly, his teeth ached by the time they stood on the shore. Sixteen men faced him. “We’re heading around the southern tip single file. Affix bayonets and have your muskets charged. If you fire your weapon, everyone on the island will ken we’re here. This is the battle of your lives, men. Aye, ’tis said Vane’s treasure is vaster than the queen’s coffers. Remain vigilant and you will survive to enjoy the spoils!”

Kennan led the way, passing a wherry tucked behind the rocks. “It looks as if there might be someone about. Step lightly.”

The scrub grew thicker as they traveled inland. Each man in the queue had his assigned checkpoint—Kennan took the nose, sweeping his musket from side to side. At his right flank, the man guarded the right quadrant and the next in line took the left and so on down the line, with the rear man sweeping the scene behind.

A flicker of movement ahead made him stop. Pressing his hand downward, Kennan signaled for everyone to drop. Grunting came from beyond. The brush in front of him rustled.

His heart hammering in his ears, Kennan set his musket aside, rose to his knee, and drew his dirk. If he had to kill a man, he damned well would do it without waking the dead.

Footsteps grew louder, snapping twigs.

Kennan tightened his grip on his hilt, readying himself to spring with deadly force. With a booming snort, a wild pig barreled straight into his path, followed by a mob of sows and piglets. But once the boar spotted him, the swine stopped and squealed, stamping its front feet.

“Off with you,” Kennan growled, baring his teeth.

The boar shook his head and backed off, then led his mob on a different trail.

“Holy hellfire,” said Cuthbert from behind him. “I nearly shite meself.”

Kennan smirked over his shoulder, imagining their entire mission being foiled by a passel of hogs. He wiped a hand across his mouth and collected his musket as he stood.

It took about an hour to reach the base of a small crag, right behind the narrows. Kennan took three of his best fighting men and ascended the rocks. Taking cover behind an enormous boulder, he peered out over the promontory. Just as he suspected, five enormous blackened iron cannons stood pointed at the inlet. And two of Vane’s guards sat atop one of the barrels.

“’Tis a boon Captain Finnes sailed in today,” said a pirate. “I can smell the pork roasting from ’ere.”

“I can smell the women.”

Dirk in his fist, Kennan motioned for Cuthbert to follow. Silently, they crept behind the cannon.

One of the guards emitted an ugly laugh. “Nothing better—rum, a good meal, and a saucy wench moaning beneath me.”

With a burst of speed, Kennan reached over the cannon’s barrel and slit the throat of one pirate while Cuthbert did the same.