He could still envision Father’s red-faced fury at these “radical” ideas, spittle flying from his lips as he’d demanded to know if Nathaniel had learned them from his tutor.
Protecting Mr. Chisholm, Nathaniel said he’d seen a Quaker pamphlet on a trip to London. “And how did you read it, you simpleton?” Nathaniel had insisted a neighbor boy relayed it to him. Truthfully, there had been a Quaker publication, but Mr. Chisholm had read it to him.
Perhaps Nathaniel could argue for fairness on Primrose Isle. Not that he would be much good at it with his dim wits. Still, he would try—if he survived. He curled in the corner of his prison, where he’d remain for the next, what? Four weeks, the devil had said. And if Walter refused to pay…
No, Nathaniel couldn’t dwell on it. All he could do was hope this wouldn’t be his bloody end. He touched his tender throat again, remembering the crush of Hawk’s powerful hand. He had to withstand his captivity, and he’d drive himself utterly mad if he didn’t push aside his fear.
Nathaniel was powerless over everything but his own mind, and if he could just keep himself occupied, he’d survive this. He glanced around his prison, heart sinking. Of course, keeping occupied was easier said than done when he couldn’t move.
Even after being kidnapped by pirates, restless boredom would apparently be his companion once more. The captain’s cabin was surely the largest on the sloop, but trapped inside it, Nathaniel would go mad in a matter of days.
Chapter Four
The boatswain’s whistle for all hands on deck cut through the air, and the men gathered. Standing at the helm, Snell at his side, Hawk surveyed them silently, waiting for the shuffling and jostling to cease. Waiting until he had their undivided attention.
He still carried all his weapons, including the dagger confiscated from the prisoner. His lower back protested at the extra weight on his belt, and he cursed himself for not locking it all away safely before returning up top.
He made sure his voice carried across the deck. “By now, you are all aware of the unexpected treasure we’ve captured. My brothers, this windfall will reap us a reward greater than we could have dreamed when we spotted that merchant ship. Our new mission is to ransom Walter Bainbridge’s son.”
“For ’ow much?” a voice called.
“One hundred…” Hawk paused for dramatic effect. “Thousand pounds.”
The men looked at each other, murmuring and smiling, visions of their share of the bounty dancing in their heads. Yet one, Deeks, asked, “Shouldn’t we have taken a vote?”
Hawk sighed internally. Yes, they should have, and he hadn’t even paused to consider it, his vision narrowed on the dual prize of revenge against Bainbridge and the possibility of a peaceful retirement from the sea. But he also wanted to leave the crew in good stead, with enough money that they could live well unless they squandered it, which some surely would. That was out of his hands.
He nodded. “Yes. Forgive me, my brothers. I was swept up in my excitement over our future riches. By all means, of course we will vote. Your choices are these: Continue to sail without a plan, hoping we stumble upon a prize. Perhaps some tobacco or sugar we can trade in Nassau for enough coin to spend a few days drinking and whoring before we set out to do it all again. And again. And again.”
He waited, letting that option sink in. “Or, we ransom lying, cheating Walter Bainbridge’s only son for a hundred thousand pounds.” Or however much Bainbridge could raise, but the men didn’t need to know that.
Hawk had set the bar high for the men’s sake as well, and hopefully the ransom would come close so they could share a generous bounty. More than they could ever expect to win unless they miraculously stumbled upon a ship with treasure in its hold.
“For the next month, we relax. We don’t fight over scraps with other ships flying the black. We don’t risk death battling said ships. We stay out of the trading channels. Then we simply deliver this one piece of cargo and become richer than we thought possible with one haul.”
He let that sink in as well. Then, “Mr. Snell, the vote, if you please?”
Doing an admirable job of not smirking, Snell cleared his throat. “We all know the captain is a man of his word. While most privateer captains take up to fourteen shares of a prize, Captain Hawk only ever claimed two, the same he does now. A fair share for the work he does guiding us. Protecting us. Mr. Walker, you made how much doing backbreaking work at a rich man’s estate in Boston?”
Walker answered, “Twelve stinking pound a year.”
Snell gazed over the men. “Twelve pounds. A year. There are forty-six of us on this ship. Captain will get two shares; one and a half for me. Part will go into the fund for the injured, and so on. But when all is said and done, it will be two thousand pounds for each of you. I know we all dream of striking Spanish gold in the next ship on the horizon. While this may not be millions, it is not a prize to be underestimated. All in favor?”