Free Cinnamon and Gunpowder by Eli Brown

got some grand scheme, that one. He’s not just picking pockets anymore—he’s onto an altogether different game. He’s kept mum about it, but they’ll squeeze the truth out of him there on the Fist.”
    My wrist was already blistering where the shackles rubbed, and we had made but little progress through the hard wood.
    “We’re in the sauce, aren’t we?” Jeroboam laughed. “But don’t fret. Don’t spend a second worrying, Quincy, Jeroboam has a plan. She tricked me, that’s what she did. Didn’t even get the opportunity to die with my crew, good men and clean-shaven every morning. That’s how I ran my ship. Boot polish and tea at two. Other ships leave civility on the docks. The sea is a corrosive influence. Take a glance at this monkey crew and you’ll see my meaning. Not on my deck! ‘A clean face is an alert face.’ That was our creed. ‘If we die in the course of our duty, it shall be as gentlemen!’ It’s a distinction to sail with Captain Jeroboam. Where else does a sailor learn proper cricket while earning his stripes upon a forty-gun ship? Well, the proportions weren’t quite right for cricket, but all of the basics, bowling, batting we practiced every day … Fielding we had to get creative with, of course. ‘If you can catch a ball in twenty-foot waves, there’s nothing that can upset you.’ That was our motto.”
    Here he lapsed at last into a silence. We continued to grind our chain over the railing. My fingers began to go numb. It occurred to me that the man had perhaps not survived Mabbot’s assault with his wits entirely intact. The stubborn perch of his ruined monocle unnerved me.
    “I’m sure you did your best by them,” I said.
    At this he smiled sadly. “Only a few of them could really bat. I mean properly,” he said.
    “But what is Mabbot’s purpose?”
    “Who can tell? She wants to steal something. That’s sure. The Brass Fox is the key she needs. The man could steal the royal commode with His Highness still upon it. But her ultimate goal? I don’t know. Something ghastly, I assure you.”
    I could see a structure on the island now, a fortress of granite.
    “When we see the opening, we must take it with all speed and courage,” Jeroboam said. “A prison has plenty of nooks to hide in. We’ll not get a chance like this again. Once we’ve escaped we’ll bring back an armada to sink her. Have you a prayer? I’ve never had the tongue for it.”
    This finally was something I could do. “Deliver us, O Jesus, from all evil, from all sin”—even with our heads bowed, the man kept tugging on the chain—“from your wrath and from the snares of the devil.”
    “Amen. Just right,” he said, looking relieved. “Are you married?”
    “My wife is passed,” I said.
    “I’m sorry for you.” He tried to pat me on the back, but the chain brought him up short. “Myself, I have the sweetest wife at home and yet I philander. You know the kind of smooth-cheeked women who carry baskets near the docks? Who are not afraid to look you in the eye? Of course, now, in the thick of it, I can think only of my wife.”
    “You’ll see her soon enough,” I said.
    This, too, cheered him, and he smiled at me as if we were both already free.
    The prison was perched upon low cliffs where it had a clean view of the sea. It had been built so close to the edge and with native stones that it looked like a brief extension of the sheer face itself. From a distance the squat structure looked disproportionate, like a child’s sand castle. As we got closer, it was clear, by the action atop the walls, that they had spotted us long ago. Guards ran about making preparations. At the base of the cliff, sea lions lounged like drunkards after a bacchanal.
    I flinched when the fortress guns fired. The water danced where their missiles went under, but none reached us. The sea lions barked out their own response, and then slipped enviably away.
    “Unsporting!” Captain Jeroboam yelled.