Edward and Herbert glanced at each other, relief in their eyes but not reflected in their faces. This was just a step back on the plank, a small step to their final goal.
"I'm ready," Edward said, despite not knowing what was going to happen next.
O'Malley eyed Edward skeptically. "Nigel, Tiege, Grant, get yer asses over here."
The man who had first accosted them when they'd tried to board stepped closer, along with two other men of equal stature and similarly weathered faces. All established sailors, all established fighters. All three were not ones Edward wanted to be facing in a fight, especially all at once. Especially in a test he needed to pass.
"Yes, ma'am?" Nigel asked, though to Edward it felt as though they all knew what was coming next.
Edward ignored the next words from the captain of the Black Blood and instead chose to take that time to steady his breathing and center himself. He breathed in through his nose the full, unfettered sea air tainted with hints of the vile town and odorous men around him. The smell threatened to break the calm he was forcing onto himself, but he pressed forward, and his heartbeat steadied.
Upon opening his eyes, the three men had surrounded him, the weight of their hard, blood-hungry eyes pressing on him from all sides. Edward focussed his senses on his immediate surroundings, filtering out the noises of gulls squawking above, of the wind rustling the trees and myriad sails along the harbour, of the shouting men and clamour of boots and wood knocking about. He filtered it all out just as he had been trained until it was just him and the three men.
Edward felt a shift behind him, and he stepped aside. One of the crewmates of the Black Blood stumbled past him, his balance shattered with a too-confident punch. Edward spun around and punched the staggered man in the back of the neck. The force, multiplied by Edward winding up as well as punching down due to his superior height, sent the man crashing to the floor of the deck. His chin hit the wood with a loud crack, and he lay there slack and unconscious.
Edward faced the other two men, who at first were shocked, then snarled in anger at their crewmate so quickly dispatched. Before they could rush Edward, O'Malley stopped them with a shout. They backed up a pace or two; one man calmed a bit with O'Malley's order, but the other, Nigel, kept the snarl of anger plastered on his face. The more time passed, the angrier he seemed to get.
O'Malley walked over to the unconscious crewmate, her greaves clanking slightly as she nudged the man with her foot. She frowned.
"Impressive," she commented. "I suppose we don't need to see how well you fight if you can do that with one punch." She levelled her gaze at Edward. "Now I want to know how well you follow orders." O'Malley walked back behind Nigel and the other crewmate still conscious. "You're going to let these two fight you, and you will not fight back under any circumstances. I don't even want to see you block any of their punches. Hear me?"
Nigel's snarl turned into a sneer of glee at the prospect. Edward didn't like that look, nor what it meant.
"And what is this to prove, exactly?"
"As I said, it will show that you can take orders," she replied, her Gaelic hints making the words more sinister in their intention. "If I'm to be your captain, I need to know you will do what I say. I can't tell you how many come aboard, wide-eyed and ready to please, only to balk at taking orders from a woman. If I must beat it out of you now, all the better."
O'Malley's smile was even more sinister than Nigel's, and Edward started regretting their leaving the Queen Anne's Revenge already. He glanced over to Herbert, who was watching the scene with a mix of horror and coiled rage blanching his face. Edward guessed he was regretting a few things as well.
But they couldn't back down now.
"I won't be much use if I'm dead or have a broken bone," Edward said flatly. He knew there was no way out of this, but he had to try.
O'Malley grinned. "Don't worry yer pretty little head on that, son. The boys'll make sure not to damage the goods. Ain't that right, boys?"
"Yes, ma'am!" the two replied without looking back at their captain.
Edward took a deep breath and prepared for the onslaught.
5. They Don't Bother Us None
The sun was just past high noon when they caught sight of land on the horizon. The small speck of black jutting out on the horizon was still too far off to recognize colours, but was unmistakably a piece of earth in the middle of the vast ocean—too irregular and too small to be a storm, and, should Christina's navigation prove accurate, just in line with their calculations based on their maps and Victoria's approximations of where the island was located.
Anne, through her lookout on the crow's nest, coupled with a spyglass built into the wooden apparatus, was able to see the point of land well before her companions on deck. Unless particularly well endowed with vision above that of a normal man, they wouldn't be able to tell the land was there for some time yet.
"Land spotted," she shouted to Christina below. "Half point to port."
Christina nodded and repeated the order in a carrying voice she had been practicing for days. "Half point to port, aye Captain!"
The loud boom, almost unnatural coming from Christina's mouth, half-woke the wolf, Tala, lying underneath a nearby table. Anne could just make out the coppery-furred muzzle of the creature opening in a yawn as it looked around for a moment, and then, satisfied there was nothing of note occurring, went back to sleep.
Anne watched Christina turn the giant wheel of the helm clockwise, and the unseen rudder shifted with it. Slowly
