Hawk didn’t know if it was true or not, but it certainly garnered a reaction, the men buzzing with murmurs, resentment and anger simmering hotter.
Tully gazed around, his face going even redder. “I have not! You’re a fuckin’ liar!” he spat at Snell.
It was a grave miscalculation.
“Ah, so it’s not just Captain Hawk who is a liar. It’s me as well. Your quartermaster. Well, men, if you believe this true, perhaps we should have two votes here this morning, Royal Navy heading for us or not.”
Of course they had no idea if the navy had seen the explosion, but it mattered not. Hawk watched with satisfaction and appreciation for Snell’s skills at handling the crew as the men clamored to defend Snell, sentiment toward Tully turning dark.
Deeks, who had been one of the men talking mutiny with Tully the other night, shouted, “I say we leave ’im here! Don’t want no rats aboard.”
In the din of agreement, someone shouted, “Let’s vote!”
Tully snarled, stamping his foot like a child having a tantrum. “Fuck you all! I don’t need you!”
“No?” Snell asked, lowering his voice even further to a deadly quiet. “Then you can stay here. Blissfully free of us.”
Tully paled. “What?”
“All in favor?” Snell asked, and the ayes had it resoundingly. “Mr. Jones, Mr. Grady. Restrain him by the trees. We’ll cut him free before we go. I’m sure you’ll be very happy here, Mr. Tully.” As Tully began a barrage of abuse, Snell added, “Gag him too,” then watched dispassionately as he was hauled away, kicking and screaming.
How he would survive alone, Hawk had no idea and didn’t give a damn. He spoke calmly to the crew although his heart thumped. “That’s settled. Soon we will exchange our prisoner for the ransom. If there is no ransom to be had, there will be blood.” Since he didn’t specify whose, it wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Now let’s get the fuck back to work,” Snell commanded.
Hawk turned on his heel and headed back to the tent, where he knew Nathaniel had surely heard every heated word. What Hawk would say to him now, he had no idea.
Snell caught up. “Been looking for a way to get rid of that annoying little prick since he came aboard.”
Hawk murmured, “Thank you.”
Snell nodded but captured Hawk’s arm tightly. “Don’t make a liar of me.”
“I won’t,” he rasped.
“You go to the ship. I’ll bring Bainbridge aboard.”
Hawk wanted to argue but couldn’t, not after what Snell had just done for him. Perhaps it would give him time to figure out what he wanted to say to Nathaniel.
Or what he could say.
They ferried supplies on board, including anything salvaged from the east beach, and as the sun rose in the sky, merciless as ever, Hawk once again stood on the deck of his ship, hands clasped behind his back, Nathaniel at his side, tantalizingly close.
Nathaniel stared toward the wisps of black smoke still rising in the distance, quiet as he’d been when they’d leaned into each other and that tree, gathering their strength between kisses.
“I killed a man,” Nathaniel murmured after a long silence, breath warm on Hawk’s neck. “I’m… I…”
“It’s normal. This guilt. Of course you’re sorry you took a life.”
Nathaniel raised his head, eyes clear. “That’s just it. I’m not. He would have taken mine. He almost did. And I’m not sorry I stopped him.”
Hawk traced the blossoming bruises on Nathaniel’s throat with his fingertips, trying to quell the simmering rage and terror and fucking helplessness.
He swallowed thickly. “Nor am I. It’s the way of this world. You had no choice.” He tried to imagine what was going through Nathaniel’s head, behind his furrowed brow. “Even if you could have outrun him—”
“I wouldn’t have tried. I probably could have. But he’d have sounded the alarm. Couldn’t risk it. I had to stop him. I couldn’t risk you.”
Hawk had been powerless to do anything but kiss him.
The livid bruises on Nathaniel’s throat were purple now, and Hawk remembered how he’d left his own marks on that pale flesh when Nathaniel had first come aboard. Shame flooded him, becoming a deluge as he thought of the insults he’d spat yesterday. All lies, lies, lies.
Nathaniel deserved so much better.
He deserved the quiet existence Hawk knew he could never have for himself, his pathetic dreams of leaving the sea and sword laughable in the face of all the fresh death he’d wrought—fire and blood and wringing the life from men with his bare hands.
He’d blamed Walter Bainbridge, but the truth was undoubtedly laid bare now. He was a monster, and he’d chosen it. It was he who was clutched in the Sea Hawk’s talons. He’d allowed bitterness and anger to reshape him, and now he must accept the consequences.
The sails were unfurled, the wind easing The Damned Manta away from the beach where Tully ranted and raved, his curses echoing across the water. Hawk smiled sharply. Perhaps it would have been more merciful to kill the man quickly, but Hawk had never pretended he wasn’t vindictive.