Sailing by Carina's Star, page 18
Jerome’s hand trembles on the hilt of his cutlass as he sheaths it, his breath coming in and out sharply through his nose. Danso’s hit the spot he aimed for.
“Hostis humani generis.” Hatred twists Jerome’s words, and they curl into the air like wisps of smoke. “The enemies of all mankind. That’s what you and your lot have been branded. And one day all of this”—he gestures back at Nassau—“will come tumbling down. When that day comes, when I find you, wherever you’re sailing, with all the power of an empire behind me, I think I know who else I’ll find. You can’t protect yourself forever, Danso. And you can’t protect them, either.”
Yes, he can. Yes, he can.
“Your paranoia is going to get you in trouble, Lieutenant Jerome.” Danso leans toward the man who can be nothing less than his enemy, and yet he’s something else, too—a man who might have been a friend if things were different. “Tell me, if you’re so convinced that I’m not killing you for the sake of a young man I don’t have on my crew, then why do you suppose I didn’t kill you the first time, all those years ago?”
Jerome’s eyes widen before narrowing again, and for a long moment, it might only be the two of them on this island. He stalks off across the sand, limping but refusing to run. Danso can’t help but note his courage for not turning tail, even here on this island full of men out for his blood. Finally, Danso sheathes the cutlass he didn’t need to use.
He watches until Jerome disappears into the darkness, nothing more than a speck against the night. Danso turns out toward the ocean, contemplating its age and the ancient mysteries and myths sunk deep down to its depths: Davy Jones and ghosts ships and the Flying Dutchman, mermaids and sirens and all manner of stories sailors tell one another. None of them are true, but none of them are false, either. Even the tallest tales are based on something real. Will the pirates here on this island be a part of history one day, or will they only be characters in a book full of falsehoods? Whose story will win a century from now, no matter what really happened?
He has to believe it will be theirs and not the distorted legends peddled by cruel men clinging to power. He must believe that someone will uncover the truth, maybe even find René’s journals.
He must believe in the story they’re telling and the life they’re making. Still, he wonders how they missed this. The spy. They’ve had a good run of outdoing the anti-piracy alliance, but he knows that can’t last forever.
A shadow casts itself over the pool of moonlight, disturbing his anxious thoughts.
Tiena.
She stares at him, unmoving. Her long black hair blows in the breeze, and she looks in the direction where her son walked away.
She doesn’t follow.
Danso almost goes for Abeni or Chantal, both of whom know Tiena better, but by then she’ll be gone, and he senses that she needs a friend here and now without delay. He walks toward her, leaving damp, sandy footprints behind him, a wave coming up just far enough and lapping at the soles of his boots.
“Captain Danso,” Tiena says, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“How much did you hear?” he asks.
“Most of it.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I was walking to the tavern when I saw you pulling him out. Chantal and Abeni had asked me to come. I’m sure you’re wondering why I didn’t interrupt you, but I knew he would ... I knew if he was here it meant—”
She grows unsteady on her feet, both knees buckling.
Danso knows what it means for someone like Tiena to break. He catches her before she falls, pulling her into an embrace even if he feels unsure. She stiffens in embarrassment before giving in, her forehead resting heavily on his broad shoulder as if no one has hugged her like this in a decade.
Tiena’s whole body trembles. “I thought maybe he was here to see me. To see René. That he was here to—” She pauses, one half-held back sob cracking her words. “—that he was here to come home.”
“I know.” Danso doesn’t let go. “And I’m so sorry.”
René sneaks out the door when Frantz and Auden aren’t looking.
He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But if he doesn’t get to the sea, if he doesn’t get a moment alone, he’s going to vomit. Pass out. Scream until there’s no air left in his lungs.
Old panic, Kingston panic, forms like sludge in his blood, and he can’t run fast enough. He can’t breathe well enough. Nassau is safe. Nassau is supposed to be safe.
Where would Danso take Jerome? There’s that bit of secluded beach set off by palm trees. That must be where. Why is Jerome here? Is he a spy? The pirates have long played a better reconnaissance game, and maybe England couldn’t let that stand anymore. René tucks his bright fair hair under his hat, tugging his navy-blue coat around his shoulders so he’s less obvious in the dark.
Seeing Jerome walk into the tavern was ... it was like someone took his body and broke it on the ground. The pain thuds through his bones even now.
Once he reaches the suspected strip of beach, a voice confirms that he was right.
That voice sears so many of his childhood memories, burning them black at the edges. He could recognize it anywhere. Mostly Bristol. A touch of France. A breeze blows through, rattling the leaves of the sturdy trees, and he ducks behind them so he’s out of sight.
God, he shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have come, but it’s too late to turn back.
“Hostis humani generis,” Jerome growls with all the danger René remembers from the night he ran away, but deeper. “The enemies of all mankind. That’s what you and your lot have been branded by every civilized nation. And one day, all of this will come tumbling down. And when that day comes, when I find you wherever you’re sailing with all the might of an empire behind me, I think I know who else I’ll find.” René jolts at the certainty in Jerome’s tone. How long has he suspected? “You cannot protect yourself forever, Danso. And you cannot protect them, either.”
René’s heart beats harder and faster and louder. His hands turn slick and clammy. If Jerome is here, is his father nearby too? Danso keeps his voice steady, and René’s admiration only grows, because this is the biggest lie Danso’s ever told, and it’s all to protect him. Both Danso and Jerome have their cutlasses drawn, and René’s own is on his belt. Scared as he is, if Jerome makes to harm Danso, René will go out and help. He must. Danso has saved him a thousand times over, and if it comes to it, he'll save Danso too, whatever the cost. For now, he’ll honor what he knows Danso would say.
Stay put.
“Your paranoia is going to get you in trouble, Lieutenant Jerome. Tell me. If you’re so convinced that I’m not killing you for the sake of a young man I don’t have on my crew, then why do you suppose I didn’t kill you the first time, all those years ago?”
René draws in a shallow, shuddering breath.
He knows. Jerome knows. There is no doubt.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. But he knew this could happen. He knew. If he didn’t want to risk it then he shouldn’t have become a pirate.
Is Jerome going to fight Danso? Try to kill him? The gleaming edge of Jerome’s cutlass spells danger, but he sheathes it before that particular fear of René’s comes to fruition.
Jerome glares at Danso before walking in the other direction toward the interior of the island. He doesn’t run, because of course he doesn’t—a power play. Proving he isn’t weak. There’s a slight limp in his gait, and René is sure he missed something.
Soon after Jerome leaves, the moonlight reveals someone else.
Tiena.
René can’t hear what either of them say, but he does see Danso pull her into a tight embrace. Tiena departs soon after that, and before René realizes it, before he means to, a soft, broken sob bursts past his lips. His grandfather’s ancient words ring inside his head.
None of that.
He claps his hand over his mouth, but Danso’s already heard him. René moves from behind the palm trees, walking toward where Danso is at the waterline. He pulls the decrepit, coffee-stained red ribbon from his pocket. Part of him wants to toss it out to sea so he can just forget Jerome, so he can forget the chosen brother he loved so dearly.
He can’t. He can’t because he still loves Jerome even after all this time. He can’t even wish that he didn’t. Damp sand flies up into the air when René sends a well-aimed kick with the toe of his boot. Not loving Jerome, his father, anything about his former life, would be so much easier.
“I’m sorry.” René sobs again, hating himself for it. “I’m sorry, I—”
He sinks to the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest and letting the red ribbon fall. The tears won’t stop. He wishes he could make them stop.
Nausea sweeps through him, stronger than before. Shame.
God damn it. God damn it.
“Shhh, it’s all right.” Danso sits down next to him, the ocean humming nearby. “Jerome’s gone. I sent him back to his ship.”
René reaches for the ribbon again and closes his fingers around it, lifting his fist as sand pours through the gaps in his grip. “He knows I’m here, doesn’t he?”
“He suspects it, yes,” Danso says with great grief. “I won’t lie to you about that.”
“Did they send him to spy?”
Danso only nods.
A spy. A spy in Nassau. Jerome as a spy in Nassau.
Jerome could have seen him. Easily. That was the chance he took, wasn’t it? When he came here. When he decided to come here. When he took his mother’s advice and sought out not just an escape from Kingston, but a direction. A place where he could run.
Jerome wants to destroy piracy, yes, but he also wants to destroy Danso. He wants to destroy René’s life here.
René casts a prayer out to the sea. God is a question, but the sea is infinite. Immortal.
He’ll take his chances with her.
“He doesn’t have solid proof about you yet,” Danso continues, “but he’s trying to get it. He had a notebook full of other information, but I destroyed it. I don’t know what else he might have learned.”
René finally breaks his contemplation of the water, meeting Danso’s eyes as his voice cracks. “Is my father out there on whatever ship they took here?”
“I’m not sure. Regardless, Jerome made it clear he would pass on his suspicions.”
René sucks in a breath, wiping the stray tears from his eyes while Danso slips an arm around his shoulders. Part of him wants to push Danso away. He doesn’t deserve Danso’s affection or his protection. What has he risked being here? Was it selfish to even come in the first place? Danso is too kind not to make good on a promise, so of course he took them in.
Maybe René backed him into a corner.
“I shouldn’t be here, should I?” René’s heart pounds against his chest, threatening to break the bone. “If Jerome suspects I’m here? That could ruin everything for you. It could ruin everything for Nassau as a whole. I should have thought before I—”
Fear curdles in the pit of René’s stomach. Leaving Nassau seems impossible. Where would he even go? But he wants to keep Danso safe. Would he ask Frantz to go with him? Frantz would be furious if he didn’t. Auden too. His heart beats harder and then it breaks, a sharp pang shooting through him. He wants to belong here. He wants to stay. He wants to fight. But he doesn’t want to be a burden. He can’t be a burden to this family. His family. He’s useful. He knows that. He’s an experienced sailor, a good swordsman, and smart too, whatever his grandfather might have said to the contrary. He knows the people on his crew care about him, that Danso and the others love him. But if he is more valuable gone then ....
“René,” Danso protests, interrupting this thought spiral. “Come now, lad. Jerome’s been angling to come after me for more than a decade and finally got his chance. The British Empire wants me dead. France and Spain probably wouldn’t turn down the opportunity either. You being on this crew doesn’t change any of that. If they did figure it out, I’d be worried for you, Frantz, and Auden more than I would for myself or the rest of the crew. We’re pirates. That’s all that matters to them. As for Nassau, it would take more than just you to make the British Navy try to take this place back. If Jerome sorts out the truth, he’ll try to catch you at sea, not here. It’s too risky. When they invade this place, there will be bigger reasons. That I’m sure of. And they won’t do it when the war is still winding down, regardless.”
When, René notes. Not if.
René shakes his head. Danso doesn’t understand. How could he? But René does. He knows his father, Jerome, and his grandfather. He knows how far they’ll go to get him back and who they’ll destroy in the process.
“If Jerome thinks I’m on your crew, if he thinks I’m here, if he tells my father that ... he won’t ... they won’t give up until you’re dead. You. Abeni. For daring to hide me from them. The world is one thing. They’re something else.”
“René—” Danso tries, but René plows forward.
“They'll try to say you kidnapped us.” René doesn’t know where the words are coming from, exactly, but he knows they’re true. “That's what my grandfather put in the papers, that some unknown person kidnapped me. And if they catch you? They'll do worse than hang you like they would any other pirate. They could torture you. Draw it out. My mother won’t be able to stop them. She’ll try, but it won’t matter. God knows what they’d—” René gulps, his hand grasping the ruined red ribbon tighter. “I’m a liability to you. To Frantz. Maybe if they could have me they’d let him be, maybe—”
Even the idea of being separated from Frantz steals René’s breath. What if they’re caught and his grandfather tries to send Frantz to the gallows, no matter his father’s protests? It’s not beyond the realm of reason. His grandfather could easily pick up where he left off. Next time the others bring up even the idea of him being a captain one day he’ll have to tell them no more firmly. With this development, that dream is well and truly dead. It was already dead, but now it’s buried.
Danso stops René there, turning to face him head on. His hands rest on René’s knees, their eyes meeting again. “They won’t let him be. Look at me, René.”
René obeys, even though it hurts.
“You know they won’t,” Danso continues. “Frantz couldn’t bear to hear you say this. You have been each other’s world for years. You can’t just take that away—or sacrifice yourself—because you think he needs protecting. That’s doing him a disservice. I know you wouldn’t speak that way in a right state of mind. You would say Frantz is more capable than anyone of protecting himself. They want both of you back, and that’s all there is to it. You come together, just like you came to me.”
René takes a deep breath, trying to stop himself from crying again, but his efforts are fruitless. Another sob shatters the quiet of the night. Danso pulls René to him in a snug, tight embrace, and it’s so warm, so safe, that René can’t say no. The world falls away, and it’s just him and the man who was his hero long before they ever met.
“Listen to me," Danso says softly. “You are not a liability. I will not abandon you. Hurt you. I won't, René. I will not do what they did. I promise.”
René’s words are muffled against Danso’s shoulder. “I'm not a child anymore. It's not your job to—”
“Protect you?" Danso cuts in. “Yes. It is. Ever since that day I saw the three of you in the tavern it has been, and not just because I promised your mother, even if that’s how it started. I knew what I was in for when I agreed to captain our ship. I knew I risked your father and Jerome finding out where you were when I took you in. I don’t regret it. I don’t regret you, my boy.”
More tears spill down René’s cheeks, staining Danso’s coat a darker green.
“We are your family now,” Danso whispers. “Even if the world comes knocking, that won’t change. Ever. I won’t just let you leave Nassau, lad. Not like this.”
Those words give René strength. Power. They remind him of his mother. They remind him of what he’s survived. Still, he wonders if he has it within himself to protect those he loves. He wonders if he is worth all this trouble. Danso says he is, and he wants to believe it, but that’s easier said than done.
René gives Danso a watery half-smile when he pulls back. “But I want to protect you.”
Danso squeezes René's shoulder. “I'm sure you will, my boy. But just let me help you, all right? For now, just promise me you aren’t considering leaving Nassau. Do I have your word?”
René nods. He looks out at the ocean before he speaks, trying to even out his breathing.
“Sometimes when I was small,” he says. “I worried I was wrong about being able to change things.” René confesses his secret to the darkness, his voice stronger now. “I believed that things could change, but from Kingston I wasn't sure where to begin, and my father and Jerome, they kept saying things were the way they were, and there was nothing I could do about it. My mother told me the opposite, but I could see how sad she was. And I saw Uncle Arthur die before he could change what he wished. Then I read those stories about you, and they taught me to hold onto my hope, to my faith in whatever better world I could see. Then I met you, and I saw that Frantz and I were right. That Arthur and my mother were right. That my father and Jerome were wrong. I saw that things could be better. You showed me that in action. It meant everything to me. It still does.”
“I was never certain I could do it,” Danso admits. “Sometimes I'm still not. But I knew I had to try. The belief all of you share with me keeps me going every day. At first, I was sure I needed to act, even if I didn't know how to believe. You believed so much but weren't sure how to act on it. We all taught each other something, don't you think?”
René smiles fully in reply, and he feels less awful amid the receding panic and grief, but fear has taken root. It can’t be pushed away. Not yet. He looks down at the ribbon as he uncurls his fingers, tempted once more to toss it out into the sea. He can’t quite manage it.
