Steel

“Damn. Well then, looks like we may have a fight on our hands after all.”

The crew who weren’t on the rigging, manning the sails, or helping with the ship, spent the time cleaning and loading muskets, pistols, and making the cannons ready. No longer sure they could outrun Blane, they prepared for battle. Jill cleaned and sharpened her borrowed rapier, which seemed dull and useless.

None of them slept that night. Around what must have been midnight, Jill found Captain Cooper still at the helm, still watching behind them. Blane’s ship, lit by lanterns, was visible as a faint glow, like a star come to rest on the waves.

“What are we going to do when he catches up with us?” Jill asked. She’d moved quietly, didn’t announce herself, but Cooper didn’t seem startled when she spoke.

“We’ll make our stand, I suppose,” Cooper said, a little too fatalistically, a little too willing to give in to the inevitable.

“We can’t win against him,” Jill said. “How many cannons does he have? A dozen?”

“Twenty,” Cooper said, and Jill imagined her counting each one on their last encounter, and knowing exactly what that many cannons on a ship that size could do if it cornered a schooner like the Diana. “But we have speed. We can keep ahead of him, just watch.”

“But we’ll have to stop eventually, and he’ll find us.”

“Here now, who’s been at sea half her life and knows far more about it than you, you wee tadpole?”

It sounded like bluster. Cooper could be standing with a sword at her throat and she’d never admit she was beaten. Blane’s ship was bigger, better armed, with more crew. All the Diana had was speed, and if that didn’t work—

Well, no. They had something else that Blane didn’t—both pieces of the cursed sword. And Cooper had her, her and the sword together, which Blane had never had.

She almost hated to bring it up. “You said you’d thought about using Blane’s sword.”

Cooper huffed and shook her head. “It’s cursed. Haunted. I can’t even tell you all that sword’s about.”

“What would happen if we fixed it? Put the two pieces back together.”

“That’s what Blane wants. No, we can’t do it.” Cooper bowed her head so her thick hair fell over her shoulders. Hiding some expression. When she looked up again, her expression was cold. “If we repair the sword and Blane gets ahold of it again, we’re done for. I’ll not have that. I ought to bury both pieces on different islands and watch him scramble.”

Jill took a breath. “If I have that sword, I think I can beat him.”

The words shocked her—she was sure she hadn’t meant to say that. Then she thought, maybe that was it. Maybe fighting Blane—and winning, beating him with his own power—would send her home. It made sense: The only thing that would defeat Edmund Blane was Edmund Blane’s own power, his own curse, confronting him with the blood he’d spilled. She remembered the feeling of the sword in her hand, the sensation of leather and wood against her palm, and she knew it had power. Her hands itched to hold the sword, whole and ready for fighting, again. Even if it was haunted.

Rather than refusing and cursing at her, Cooper considered. Jill couldn’t guess what the captain was thinking when she looked at her with that narrowed gaze.

“You faced Blane, didn’t you? You fought him?”

“Yes, sir,” Jill said.

“You aren’t lying about it.”

“No, sir.”

“And you held your own against him?”

“I didn’t beat him, but I didn’t lose, either.”

“And what makes you think you can beat him now?” she demanded.

“It’s the sword. Not by myself, but with that sword.” She had to try….

Then Cooper shook her head. “It sounds all high and mighty, but we can’t risk getting close enough to Blane to see if you’re right. Now get up on the mainmast and take the next watch.”

Jill almost argued. She had stood up to Blane, however briefly; standing up to Captain Cooper ought to be easier. She was planted on the deck, her jaw stiff with the arguments she wanted to make—if the sword had power, couldn’t they use it, too? They glared at each other, neither of them flinching, Cooper daring her to make a challenge and Jill almost doing it. But unlike facing Blane back on the island, she didn’t have anywhere to run to on the ship.

Jill marched to the mainmast, where she swung into the rigging and pulled herself to the lookout perch, working out her frustration through her muscles.

Looking out over the ocean, a tiny sphere of lantern light reflected on distant water. The Heart’s Revenge, still trailing them.