Swashbuckling on the Edge

Chapter Twenty-four

"Don't stand there gawking!" Tallera shrieked. "Can't you see she needs help!?"

Booted footsteps clomped around me, jostling me where I lay on the floor, feigning unconsciousness. I kept myself limp while Tallera continued to berate our guards for their uselessness.

Someone grabbed my wrist and squeezed. Then rough fingers pried my eyelid back. I let me eyeball drift lazily in its socket. My arm dropped with a thud.

"She just fainted," one of the guards grumbled, clearly annoyed that Tallera interrupted their lax guard duty. "She'll be fine."

Tallera scoffed with a drama that star actresses would admire. "Idiot men." I almost heard her eyes roll. "She didn't faint, she's ill. Go and get your captain, then! He needs her alive and functional, doesn't he?"

A second male voice spoke up. "You think we're the idiots? We're not leaving the captives alone."

"I'll go and get the captain. You stay 'ere, make sure they don't try anything."

"Oh, yes, leave one armed man here alone with us two feeble women," Tallera taunted. "You'll be safe."

The first guard muttered something under his breath, then his footsteps departed. Shortly after, the door closed behind him.

"Alright, let's see what--"

CLANK.

A heavy body dropped to the floor, crushing my legs. My eyes snapped open.

"Tallera!" I hissed.

"Sorry! I can't control where he falls!"

I wiggled out from underneath the unconscious pirate, ready to join Tallera at the window. Patting the pocket of my trousers where I'd hidden the page of Ramirez's journal containing the secret coordinates, I glanced back at the table to the pile of chart pieces and the remainder of the journal.

"Leave it, there's no time," she said in my ear.

Reluctantly, I agreed, following quickly and quietly as she pushed open one of the portholes and climbed outside. Lucky for us, the portholes in Barton's quarters was bigger than average, with just enough room for two women to shimmy through.

Tallera's boots cleared the window, and I watched as she crawled like a monkey along the ship's hull, hoisting her way up to the more secluded quarter deck. I dove out after her, finding treacherous grips in the ship's hull—I'd have used barnacles if I'd had no other options.

With our heads just below the rails, we paused to listen. Someone was conversing on deck, but the upper section of the ship was abandoned, so no one should have been watching.

As stealthily as we could, Tallera and I shuffled along, using the rails for handholds until we could grab the chains and continue our climb up the ratlines. Up here we were completely exposed. Barton and a crowd of pirates on deck came into view, and fortune favoured us as their fronts were turned towards the Ebony. And, of course, no one would think to look up.

I hoped.

Spying Dark and Sykes across from Barton, I reminded myself to keep climbing and not worry. The wind snatched any bits of conversation from my ears, anyhow.

"What are those imbeciles doing now?" Tallera hissed. I didn't dare look down, but I knew she would be trying to both balance and eavesdrop at the same time.

"Don't worry about it now," I snapped back, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached when my concentration was lost and I missed a foothold.

When we reached the first sail yard, we began the more difficult part of the plan, which was walking across the narrow beam of wood and jumping to its twin—an equally narrow beam—on the Ebony.