Page 66 of The Noble's Merman

“Yes, Captain,” a chorus rang out.

The floor shook as wide wooden planks slammed down onto the edge of The Sterling Mer, connecting the two ships together. Kent had only heard about this in stories—how pirates would capture a ship, board it, and plunder it of all their valuable goods. Was that happening now? His mind was in a whirl as men from the other ship started walking down the plank, one particularly fierce-looking man leading the rest.

“Ahoy! Thank you for your cooperation. We wouldn’t want any more unnecessary bloodshed now, would we?” The leader smirked in a crooked grin, surrounded by his gruff black beard.

“Precisely.” Brooks nodded. “State your name and what you’re here for.”

The pirate leader laughed, coat buttons jingling as his large shoulders rose with each breath. “The name’s Forever Young. Captain Young, as you may refer to me.” Kent held back a snicker as he took in the man’s appearance. The pirate wasn’t ‘young’ at all—in fact, he could pass as the same age as Kent’s father. But perhaps he was younger than he seemed, and a dangerous life at sea weathered his sun-tanned face more than otherwise. He appeared to wear his natural hair and not a periwig under his tricorn hat, black curls hanging over his shoulders.

“You are one of the Crown’s merchant ships, are you not?” continued Young. “You must have goods of value here. Hand them all over to us, and I will see to it that the rest of your crew remains unharmed.”

Brooks grimaced, hovering one of his hands to the sword on his belt. “If I do as you say, you swear to not harm my crew any longer?”

“That is exactly what I said, isn’t it? Aye, now give me your answer.”

“Brooks, what of the medicine?” Davies called out, and Kent’s shoulders slumped in relief that the boatswain appeared uninjured, standing amongst the men and coming up to their captain’s side. “We cannot give that over. The people in Fall River need it?—”

“Yes, they do. But I do not want any more of my men to suffer for it. Look about you.” Brooks glanced at the pirates boarding from the planks, and Kent could see it too—armed with guns and cutlasses were the muscular pirate crew, tall and standing at the ready. If Brooks refused to hand over the goods, no doubt it would unleash a deadly bloody battle. Kent gulped; he wasn’t a fighter. His job was to heal wounds, not cause them. If they all wished to make it to land alive, they had to do this diplomatically. Negotiate. Not combat. Panic rose in his chest as Young kept up that vulgar, demeaning smirk on his face.

“Medicine, eh?” said the pirate captain. “Something like that could be worth quite a lot. If you please, my men are eager, and we don’t wish to wait around all day for you to discuss it with your crew. Surely, you can understand.”

Kent shuddered as he heard the growls of animals—no. Those growls were coming from the pirate crew themselves.

The medicine was worth quite a lot. The medicine was the whole reason The Sterling Mer needed to leave the shores of Portsmouth as soon as she did. It was why Davies came to Kent frantically in the tavern and Kent accepted the position as surgeon, rather than delay her voyage. Yes, Kent wanted to sail regardless due to the prospect of being together with Mo, but he could not ignore the urgency.

If Young was saying honest words—if they gave over the medicine to the pirates, the crew of The Sterling Mer would remain safe. He could tend to Allen without interference. He’d give Mo peace of mind that he himself was safe. But he couldn’t shake the fact that the people in Fall River needed this medicine. People were waiting on this medicine. It had to be delivered to the people who were ailing without it, and the goodness in Kent’s heart knew he had to do something about it. There had to be another way.

“Captain Young,” said Kent.

The pirate turned his attention toward him. “Aye? What is it?” he said roughly.

“You wouldn’t have a need for the medicine itself, would you? You plan to sell it. That’s why you want something valuable—for the money it’s worth, and not the goods in particular.”

“Aye. You speak the obvious that even a lunatic would understand.”

Kent forced back a grimace that threatened to cast on his face, but he remained standing confident, fists at his sides.

“What if I offered you a larger sum than what any of those goods are worth?”

Young raised a gnarly, bushy brow. “Such as?”

He swallowed, forcing his fear down his throat and urging his courage to rise to the brim. Should he even do what he was about to do? Was this even a good idea?

“Ten thousand pounds.”

The pirate captain’s face stretched wide in surprise. “Well now. How exactly would you supply these pounds to us, were we to agree?”

“I am of nobility. I am Viscount Fareham, first son of the Earl of Fareham.” While it hurt him to bring his father into this, he felt he had no other choice. He didn’t have the funds himself in his own coffers to offer, yet the idea formed in his head anyway. It was all he could think of—a way for the medicine to still reach Fall River and the pirates let The Sterling Mer go without any more carnage.

But what about Allen, would he be able to survive on The Sterling Mer without Kent’s help? What about the other thousands of people ailing, waiting for the medicine in Massachusetts? No, he could find a way. He had to. An idea arose, and he spouted the words out before he could think twice.

“Take me aboard your ship back to England as ransom,” said Kent. “My father will pay you the ten thousand pounds in exchange for my safe return, on the condition you let The Sterling Mer complete her delivery?—”

“No, Kent, don’t do it!”

He couldn’t finish his sentence; the voice came from down below—down in the water.

“Mo!”

---