Page 97 of Paid to the Pirate

Limp and sobbing by the time Colt stopped the awful strapping, I had no fight left in my body nor room in my heart for anything but two feelings. One was the desperation to stay awake long enough to find the Crimson Eye while Colt slept. The other was a curious and nagging guilt that I’d destroyed Colt’s favorite book.

The captain summoned Conks to retrieve the same salve he’d given me the first time he belted me, and I was allowed to stay in Colt’s bed once more. This time, the captain climbed in beside me. But he did not touch me -- not in that manner. He seemed as drained as I was and promptly fell asleep after one coating of the ointment on my punished rear.

When I heard Colt’s even breathing, I rose from the bed, wincing.

It took the entire night to find the Crimson Eye, hidden beneath one of the floorboards in Colt’s cabin.

Part one of my plan was complete. I was closer to freedom than I’d ever been.

So why, when I looked at my sleeping captor, did it feel like I’d just taken a giant leap back?

Chapter 40

Charlotte, the past

Something was missing inside me, as if I’d left a piece of myself in Colt’s room that night. He stole it from me when he touched my bare rear with his bare hand, as if he’d sucked it right out of my flesh and absorbed it into his.

But whatever happened between us in that moment when he’d sat me on his lap, only solidified my resolve to escape, quickly. To do so, I needed a time whenThe Dark Bladewas close to land and hopefully, with the promise of inclement weather. Each day I watched the skies, looking for signs of impending rain, and I had my chance when we departed Saint Augustine.

Did I feel guilty when I let the chicken spoil and discreetly added it to the turtle soup, ensuring everyone would fall ill?

Maybe, but not so much for the men who’d wanted to see me whipped, more for Conks and Johnson and Miguel.

No guilt for Colt, either. He deserved it.

It was easy to refrain from eating the soup that evening, everyone knew I hated it.

I never heard a sweeter sound than that of the first crewman’s groan. It was quickly followed by several more and I had to hide my smile. Soon, everyone retreated to their hammocks, desperate to find some comfort as the ache in their stomachs grew. By nightfall, I finally had a flash of good luck after years of misfortune. Rain pelted the ship hard enough to keep everyone below deck, yet the seas didn’t toss so much that I wouldn’t be able to escape in the jolly boat.

Dutifully, I flitted about the ship as I tended to the very men I’d sickened. I brought clean rags and fresh water, as well as emptied many soiled buckets. The smell of sick was so pungent I nearly vomited myself.

I wondered if the illness would come out the other end, and hoped I escaped beforehand.

The moon was high when most of the crew had fallen into a fitful slumber. Those who remained awake paid me no mind as they were too busy vomiting the contents of their stomachs every quarter hour. Not a single man climbed the rigs or stood watch upon the deck. I’d never heard the ship so quiet before.

It’s time.

I crept down the stairs and into Colt’s cabin. He was fast asleep in his bed, a sheen of sweat covering his body. The captain was bare from the waist up, and perhaps below as well, though I couldn’t tell with the linens pulled across his midsection. Quietly, I retrieved the Crimson Eye from its hiding place beneath the floorboards and approached Colt’s bed.

Slumbering, he didn’t seem as much of a beast. His brow furrowed in pain and his face was deathly pale. Remembering he’d eaten my share of the turtle soup so it would not go to waste, I realized he was sicker than the others and I almost felt bad. Almost.

Quickly, I used my dirk to cut a small hole in the seam of Colt’s mattress. Careful not to disturb him, I shoved the Crimson Eye inside and got to work on the longest part of my plan -- sewing the mattress without allowing the stiches to give me away without closer examination. A normal man wouldn’t notice something like that, but Colt was fastidious and I needed to keep him occupied in searching for the Eye. It would buy me time as I drifted… hopefully to shore.

I gulped. It was a huge risk. But I’d packed food and fresh water to keep myself alive for several days, if necessary.

I completed my sewing and had turned to leave when I spied Colt’s dirk on the dining table. The shining blade beckoned, and, entranced, I slowly walked forward and grabbed it.

I could kill him before I escape.

Then I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone chasing me; the men would be too busy fighting amongst themselves as to what to do next.

I crept back to Colt’s sleeping form.

I could avenge my father. Myself.

I held the blade aloft.

All those times Colt put me over his knees. How he’d dared to look at my backside.

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