Christina, one hand holding the wheel steady, pored over a few instruments to double-check the heading, but Anne already knew her movements were correct. Christina was steadily treating the helm as an extension of herself, intuitively recognizing the shifting of the ship with each bob of the waves. She only needed the instruments for more significant changes or double-checking that the movement she saw and felt was correct.
Anne recalled a time during one of the trials left by the ship's previous owner, Benjamin Hornigold—whom they now knew to be Edward's father—where Christina had been able to navigate an ever-shifting maze. She had somehow managed to find her way through and back from the labyrinth by memorizing the changes and returning the way she had come. At the time, it had seemed nearly impossible, but Christina's mind and memory were unparalleled, and any other crewmate, even Anne herself, probably wouldn't have been able to manage the task.
That memory was a part of her; working out the way the ship moved, how it pitched and rolled, and how her movements of the wheel translated to movements of the ship. As she gained confidence, and provided that the crew followed orders, Anne didn't doubt that Christina could forgo using those instruments except in the direst of circumstances. The ship would become an extension of herself, like a sword to a fighter, until without thought she could wield it as though it were her own arm.
Anne stopped staring at Christina, then took one last look at the approaching land. Their course was righted, and if Victoria's information was correct, they would make landfall on the eastern side of the island farthest from the town Silver Eyes made his base in.
"Relief," Anne called out. William looked up to Anne, then ordered a crewmate up to the crow's nest.
Anne jumped over the side of the railing keeping her secure in the nest, and with deft hands trained over the years, she climbed down the rope ladders secured in a chaotic pattern from the mast to the deck. Her fingers were no longer the dainty fingers of a cultured woman; they were the rough fingers of a sailor sanded and scoured by handling rough rope, rough work, and the occasional rough rogue.
She landed with a thump on the quarterdeck and walked over to Christina. The noise and jolt brought Anne a glance from Christina and the cautious animal underneath the table nearby. The younger woman's strawberry blond hair fanned out in a great wave across her back despite the tie holding it in at the base of her neck. As Anne came closer, she noticed that the wooden rose Christina typically wore around her neck was what kept her hair in place now.
She touched the rose, gently caressing the beautiful carving of Caribbean pine, the same as the Queen Anne's Revenge's deck. As she did, Christina glanced over her shoulder and smiled, though tinged with sadness.
Christina pivoted on her heels, and the hair fell from Anne's hand. Christina then pulled her unruly hair over her shoulder in front of her, closer to her heart. "It looks nice on you," Anne said, smiling widely.
Christina looked at the rose as best she could as she ran her fingers through the wind-swept strands of her hair. "Thank you." She returned the smile, but it was the same marred smile as before. Then, after a reflective moment, her eyes focused on Anne's hip, and she pointed to the cutlass at Anne's side. "That looks nice on you as well," she said with a more genuine grin curling up at the corners.
Anne followed the finger to the golden cutlass, Edward's cutlass, resting on her hip in its sheath. She appreciated the unique steel at her side. It became a comfort against the anxious energy creeping up from her gut.
"A shame to waste a good weapon by saving it for the fool of a man who left it behind."
The two women chuckled at the barb for a moment, and Christina seemed back to her usual self. The worry creasing her forehead relaxed a touch, and she let out a large breath. She turned away from Anne and looked back to the horizon. "What do you think we'll find there?" Christina nodded her chin towards the open ocean.
Anne stepped forward and placed one hand on the quarterdeck railing just in front of the wheel, and another on the cutlass at her side. "Victoria said that the island is a major resource for Nassau, providing crops and other supplies to the pirate haven. I can't imagine the relationship is mutually beneficial, so perhaps we can convince the people around the island to join us."
Christina nodded. "And if we can't?"
Anne gave Christina a sidelong glance for a moment and then turned back to the speck of black on the horizon. "Then we burn it and salt the earth."
Christina's jaw went slack for a moment. "Remind me not to become your enemy."
Anne chuckled. "I get it from my parents."
She let out a long sigh, turned around, and leaned against the quarterdeck railing with her arms crossed in front of her chest. "My father, though his station is mostly a formality, wanted to avoid being seen as weak, and pursued an education in war as well as fitness for combat. He doesn't generally take an active role in battles… except in that one instance…"
"Except in that one instance," Christina repeated, no doubt recalling the incident that had seen Edward eventually imprisoned so long ago.
"And," Anne continued, "he ensured that interest was passed on to his children."
Christina's brow raised. "Children? You have siblings?"
"Had," Anne corrected. "They passed from sickness. Some survived longer than others, but I outlived them all." Anne tried her best to keep her composure, but her last few words came out ragged, stilted by remembrance. Childhood images, marred by age
