Dusk was already settling in. On the horizon, the sun sank into the west as twilight crept in from the opposite end of the sky. The boatswain ordered most of the canvas taken down. The Garnor lay hove-to, barely making headway through the swell, drifting without a clear course while the entire crew gathered on deck.

  Everyone spoke at once, murmuring all manner of speculation and rumor.

  “Maybe they’re going to hang someone…”

  “I didn’t say anything,” one of the carpenter’s lads protested.

  Sammy and Kayin stood among the crew, sharing in the general excitement.

  “Maybe he’s going to announce an attack on the citadel to rescue everyone,” Sammy said.

  “I doubt it… you saw how that went,” Kayin replied.

  “Then why are we all here?”

  “Maybe to say a prayer for the fallen… and hand out new duties.”

  Sammy breathed through her mouth. She felt the urge to punch Kayin, but just then the boatswain’s shout rang out, calling for silence as the ship’s bell was struck.

  Quiet fell over the deck. Only the sea slapping against the hull and the creak of ropes could be heard. The captain stepped out of his cabin and climbed onto the forecastle, followed by Kwame. At the sight of him, the crew began to murmur.

  “SILENCE, YOU GOSSIPING HAGS!” Trumper bellowed.

  Skippy surveyed them all and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “It has been a harsh and exhausting day,” he began, “one in which we mourn the loss of several members of our crew. I wish to make special mention of the boatswain’s mate, Mr. Knox, along with three others reported missing. For their eternal rest, let us offer a prayer in their memory.”

  A solemn silence followed.

  Sammy felt a knot tighten in her throat and began to fear where this gathering might be headed.

  “God… no… please, no… poor Cody,” she murmured.

  Kayin leaned in close to her ear.

  “I remind you that your attitude is not that of a man,” he whispered. “If you don’t want trouble, act like one.”

  She straightened and forced the same indifferent expression worn by the rest.

  After a minute, Skippy raised his head.

  “We have been duly informed by Kwame, former assistant to Toby, administrator of Xul-Kan, that members of our crew are still alive.”

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  A murmur rose, quickly silenced by the boatswain’s glare, while the secretary—standing near the ladder—watched the captain nervously.

  “When you signed on with me, one of the clauses in your contract was that you accepted the risks of this enterprise, in addition to fulfilling your duties aboard. Is that not so?”

  The crew answered in the affirmative.

  “Very well. In return, my obligation toward you is to keep you alive to the best of my ability. There are dangers we cannot avoid, but there are others we can work to lessen. Knowing that members of our crew are alive makes me feel duty-bound to go after them and bring them back.”

  A wave of surprise swept through the deck as everyone began speaking at once.

  “Silence! This isn’t Covent Garden!” the boatswain roared, cracking his whip when the voices grew too loud.

  “Gentlemen, it is my duty to recover my men whenever the situation is justified and viable. And with the information provided by Mr. Baptiste, this is one such case.”

  When silence returned, Sammy felt like leaping for joy.

  “For this purpose,” Skippy continued, “we will require a group of volunteers to carry out the land assault, while from the coast the Garnor will provide bombardment to create a diversion.”

  “And the batteries on the headland?” someone asked.

  “For that, we will rely on the leadership of Mr. Baptiste, who, according to the plan we have reviewed, will allow us to neutralize them and enter the estuary without difficulty—thus facilitating the assault and, by extension, the rescue of our men.”

  The crew murmured among themselves. Sammy listened, thrilled.

  “We need twelve volunteers for the assault patrol,” Skippy said.

  The boatswain frowned, sweeping his gaze across the deck.

  “Who’s stepping forward?” he shouted. “Or do you want me to assign you?”

  The captain scanned the crew. Only Kayin and Sammy raised their hands.

  “I want real men,” the boatswain growled.

  Skippy pressed his lips together at the sight of such apathy.

  “Gentlemen, this falls within our duty, but I do not wish to impose it. Therefore, I propose that those who volunteer will receive financial compensation for their support.”

  The secretary hurried up to the quarterdeck and leaned toward the captain.

  “We don’t have any money,” he whispered.

  A hush fell.

  “You will receive ten doubloons per man,” the captain announced, his voice carrying from stern to bow.

  The silence shattered at once, turning into a clamor.

  The captain raised his hand for quiet, reinforced by the crack of the boatswain’s whip.

  “Those who sign up will receive one doubloon in advance before departure,” he added, “and the remainder after the operation.”

  The secretary nearly fainted.

  Men began shouting again, raising their hands and shoving one another to be noticed.

  The boatswain scanned them once more and stepped up beside the captain.

  “Now everyone wants to go,” he remarked.

  Skippy looked at Trumper.

  “Then choose the most seasoned men… and begin preparing them for the assault.”

  “When do you intend to carry it out?” Trumper asked.

  “Tonight.”

  With that, Skippy descended from the forecastle, followed by Kwame and the secretary, who nervously took up position at his side.

  “Captain… we don’t even have twelve doubloons to pay the advance, much less the rest,” Mr. Paine said.

  Skippy shot him a sideways glance as he headed for the cabin.

  “Take them from the secret chest,” he ordered without slowing.

  Sammy hurried over with Kayin toward the boatswain, who was being mobbed by would-be volunteers shouting to be listed.

  “Silence!” Trumper barked. “By all the devils, not even a cat would leave a mark on you now, you’re so ravenous! I’ll do the choosing.”

  “That’s not what the captain said!” one pirate protested.

  “We want to volunteer!” cried another.

  “Why should Rothchild go when I can?” demanded a third.

  The argument swelled until the boatswain cracked the whip through the air.

  “Enough! Behave like men, not like old women at a vegetable market.”

  They all fell quiet then, waiting anxiously to be chosen.

  “This won’t be easy,” Kayin murmured.

  “It’s not fair… only you and I raised our hands at first,” Sammy complained.

  “That was before there was money involved,” Pete said at her side.