My brows pinched, still stuck on their appearances. Before I could ask, Lanard added, “It’s a pirate ship, closing in fast.”

Without turning around, I called my first mate into action. “Krinny, get everyone to their battle stations.” I flew out the door and up the steps. I heard boots behind me as I took to the main deck. Half of the crew stood at the rails, squinting at a growing speck in the distance.

Smitter stopped between Rylander and I to pull a spyglass from inside his vest pocket. He threw it to the barrelman stationed on the crow’s nest.

“Catch,” he yelled.

Delmar leaned over the barrel rail and caught it. He twisted the lens, studying the open ocean.

“What do you see on their flag?” I shouted.

“A black skull with two crossing swords beneath,” he hollered.

The Black Hollow. We’d boarded and nearly scuttled her last winter. Captain Fredrick and his crew had sworn vengeance, and now they had come to make good on that promise.

Upon hearing the news, Krinny yelled, “Don’t just stand there, get to your battle stations. Go, go, go!”

“Marksmen, to your posts!” I barked. “Load every musket and pistol on this ship. Via, get your team and prepare the cannons. Fire at my signal. Move. Now!”

Heels thudded a rapid beat over every deck as my crew prepared to strike.

“Why are we being attacked?” Rylander asked, striding behind me at a pace calm as summer waters. His arms crossed over his chest.

My head swung in his direction. “We are a pirate ship. Pirates steal from other pirates.” My forehead crinkled. “What sort of swashbuckler ship did you captain? Did you willingly hand over your treasures to other brigands?”

His face slackened, eyes dipping to his shiny boots. Was that guilt?

Then, like a typhoon, it broadsided me. I smacked Rylander across the arm as hard as I could. Then swatted him again, twice more.

He winced, grabbing his afflicted bicep. “Ow. Why are you always hitting me? What was that for?”

“The Sea Singer isn’t a pirate ship, is it? You’re a cover! But why?”

Before Rylander could answer, Via charged up the stairs to us. Strands of hair slipped free of her braid, whipping across her wide, violet eyes.

“We’ve got a big, big problem, Captain,” she said, chest heaving as she stood before me. She shot Rylander a wary glance. “We have no cannons, muskets, or gunpowder.”

“What?” I screamed. “How is that possible? Didn’t we check the ship before we set sail?”

Via’s hands fidgeted. “Well, we’ve never had to check the cannons. We’d never thought to remove them. And they’re a heavy, obvious load for a thief. The crates labeled gunpowder are below, but they are filled with mead and rum.”