One

Mary

A sharp whistle pierced the air. "Sails!" cried the lookout from the crow's nest. "Sails, to the port side!"

Mary took the stairs to the quarterdeck two at a time. She turned toward her left and lifted a spyglass to her eye. Sure enough, against the bright horizon was a three-masted ship with red crosses on its sails. A Spanish galleon. Down from Port Royal, probably. Ripe for the taking.

The entire crew buzzed with excitement.

"She's riding low," said Quint at Mary's side. "She's sure to be hauling a heavy cargo."

Mary peered across the water until the ship's name came into focus: El Chango . Translated from Spanish, it meant: The Monkey .

"She's carrying rum, do you think?" guessed Diesel, the ship's gunner. "Molasses? Tobacco?"

"Could be anything," said Quint, rubbing his hands together. "I hope it's Spanish gold."

Mary lowered the spyglass. "Whatever it is, it's about to be ours." Then she noted the conspicuous absence of their fearless leader. "Where's the captain?"

"Haven't seen him all day," said Diesel with a shrug.

Nor had she, but she wasn't about to let this prize get away. "I'll find Vane," she told Quint. "Keep on them, DuPaul," she ordered the helmsman.

"Aye, Mr. Read." The man nudged the wheel.

She turned to the assembled crew. "Are you up for a little hunting?"

"Aye!" called the crew in unison.

A thrill shot through her, adrenaline flooding her veins. Her heart was already drumming sweetly, her breath quickening, even her skin atingle with the anticipation of the chase.

It turns out, dear reader, that Mary had broken her promise.

She'd fallen in love again, almost immediately.

With being a pirate.

She hurried to the captain's cabin and put her fist to the door.

Tobias opened it. "Ah, Mr. Read." He stepped aside to let her in, revealing Captain Vane sitting on the edge of the four-poster bed in the back, a bottle of rum dangling from his fingers.

"What's all the noise about?" Vane peered up through bloodshot eyes. "What all-important news do you bear, Mr. Read, that you would interrupt my heartsore seclusion?"

Mary exchanged glances with Tobias. He gave the smallest of eye rolls, which Mary interpreted easily enough: Captain Vane was (still) feeling wounded over Bess, the pretty lady who'd broken things off with him during their last visit to Nassau, and he was (still/again) attempting to drown his sorrows in rum. Which Mary knew from experience wouldn't work.

She cleared her throat. "A ship, sir. A fat Spanish galleon. Shall we pursue?"

Vane heaved a sigh. "I pursued Bess, you know. Really gave it me best effort. Flowers. Fancy dresses. Jewels. And she just took me heart and—" He opened his hand, palm up, and pantomimed crushing.

This was exactly why Mary had sworn off love. The Ranger was one of the most profitable ships in the business, and Vane one of the most feared and well-respected of pirate captains, and yet here he was, brought low by an ill-fated romance. She fought the urge to grab Vane by the shirt collar and tell him to pull himself together. "Yes, so tragic," she said instead. "But about this ship. We've got the wind on her, sir, but who knows for how long."

Vane took a deep swig from his bottle, groaned, then finally nodded. "Fine." He got to his feet, staggered, clutched at his head, and fell back again. "You handle it, Mr. Read. I'll come out for the fighting."

A second glance with Tobias. This was the third time this week the captain had been too heartsore/drunk to do his job.

Tobias's look said, Save me from this nightmare.

Mary's responding look said, Sorry. Sucks to be you. Then, out loud to Vane, she said, "Very good, sir." With another nod at Tobias, Mary jogged back to the main deck. "He'll come for the fighting," she reported to Quint.

Quint's expression went carefully blank. "Again? That's the third time this week."

Mary shrugged, then cupped her hands around her mouth as she called out, "Make ready! We're going after her! Raise the canvas!"

The crew cheered again and hurried to their stations. Mary returned to the helm.

And just like that, the chase was on.

Wind caught the sails and the ship surged forward, quickly closing the distance between itself and the Chango . By now the other crew would have noticed they were being pursued. They, too, had fully unfurled their sails and were moving away as fast as they could, but their ship was large, heavily laden, and couldn't possibly outrun their attackers. The men on the Chango would know that. The fear would be building. The gravity of their situation would be sinking in.

Mary smiled. This next part was delicate.

"Fifty more yards, and we're in range," yelled Diesel.

She nodded. She waited until they were quite close—almost on top of the other ship—and then rolled up her sleeves. It was time. "Hoist the black!" she yelled, and soon, Vane's personal pirate flag—three red symbols on a black field: a dagger, a skull's profile, and an oddly shaped heart—was flapping in the wind. Mary had always thought the flag looked silly (the heart, she thought, was a bit much) but it got the job done.

Immediately, the Chango 's crew began to panic.

"?Piratas!" The shouts could be heard across the water. They were speaking in Spanish, but everyone basically knew what they were saying: Pirates! (The tone of "Let's get out of here!" is universal, dear reader, as is "We're all going to die!")

Mary knew the captain of the Chango must be giving up now on the idea of getting away.

"There she goes!" bellowed Quint, and, as expected, the merchant vessel slowed and began to turn. Fifteen cannons slid from the gunports, compared to the mere six the Ranger boasted. But Mary wasn't worried. Much.

At her command, the Ranger , too, came about. "Fire a warning!" she shouted.

A great BOOM rocked the ship. A cannonball flew across the water, just missing the galleon's bowsprit.

Now she was giving the captain of the Chango a choice: surrender, or fight.

Plenty of captains surrendered. That gave them a chance of survival, after all. Their crew might be spared. Sometimes, even the captains were spared and left to sail away, their holds empty of everything valuable. But they got to live... as long as they found somewhere to make port before they died of hunger or thirst.

Mary preferred the ones who chose to fight. She liked the challenge, the thrill of battle. The danger. She lived for it, actually.

"Come on," she whispered, peering through the spyglass. At the helm of the other ship, the captain, a tall white man with a powdered wig and fancy coat, was looking back at her through his own spyglass.

She gave a playful wave.

The man dropped his spyglass, sending it spinning across the deck as he shouted orders. He raised his arm as though to make a chopping motion.

"Guns!" Mary grinned. "On my mark!"

At the rails of the Ranger , the men who were crouched there cocked their various muskets.

"Fire!" Mary shouted.

The men stood and fired. A flurry of iron musket balls screamed across the water. Some hit the Chango 's crew above decks, but most were aimed toward the gunports. The idea was to take out the men on the gun deck so they couldn't fire on the Ranger . But muskets weren't terribly accurate, so most of the bullets just bounced harmlessly off the galleon's sturdy hull.

And then the Chango fired back. With cannons.

(Reader, this is one of the more unbelievable parts of the age of sail. When two ships got into a fight, they really did come parallel to each other, giving the enemy the biggest target possible. The goal was to hit the other ship with more cannonballs than they could hit you with. But put too many cannonballs in another ship and you'd sink it, which was undesirable when you were a pirate and you wanted to loot the other ship before all that treasure sank to the bottom of the ocean. Hence the Ranger firing at the cannon people. And why the Chango had no problem opening with cannon fire—they would have liked nothing more than to sink the Ranger and sail away safely.)

The cannonballs from the Chango slammed into the side of the Ranger , sending splinters of wood flying everywhere. Thankfully, nothing tore through—yet. She was a good and sturdy ship.

"Fire!" Mary shouted again. More muskets. A few faces from the opposite gun deck vanished, but were quickly replaced. They weren't leaving Mary much of a choice. "Cannons, Mr. Diesel!" she cried. "Fire! Fire at will!"

The fuses were lit. Within seconds, nine-pound iron balls hurtled across the water, some striking their marks, some falling short. Both ships rocked on the water, waves cresting the side of the decks.

After a bit of back-and-forth with this, Mary's men (ahem, Captain Vane's men) managed to slow the barrage of cannon fire from the other ship.

Now it was time for the fun part.

"Board!" she yelled. Pirates echoed the order along the ship until, on the gunner's count, half a dozen men threw grappling hooks at the Chango , grabbing the side of the ship so they could maneuver themselves closer.

"Heave ho!" they cried, pulling the lines. "Heave! Ho!"

Slowly—so slowly—the ships came together until their hulls nearly touched.

At once, men high in the rigging swung out toward the other ship. Of course, that meant the Chango 's musket men started firing on the Ranger 's men. But Mary's musket men (er, Captain Vane's musket men) fired back. For several minutes there was utter chaos—until Mr. Quint gave a sharp whistle, signaling for the rest of the men to come aboard.

"On the rails! Come with me, lads!" Mary said, throwing her body over the top of the rail and onto the nets they'd thrown below. "Let's show them what we're made of."

Tobias landed beside her. "I know you weren't trying to leave me behind, Read."

Mary pulled herself onto the deck of the Chango and drew her cutlass. "Well, I wasn't about to go back into Vane's cabin and risk getting trapped there."

A huge orange-bearded man ran at them, bellowing, but they easily slipped out of his way and pushed him over the side.

"That's fair." Tobias blocked as another man lunged at them, his sword swinging. "If I didn't have to be there, I wouldn't. I'd rather swab the deck than listen to his moaning about."

Mary thumped the newest opponent on the head and tossed him overboard, too, to join his friend. "What do you say we play cards after our shifts? That'll give you some time away from Vane. And I wouldn't mind winning some money off the other officers. They're sure to be feeling rich and foolish after this raid."

"Aye," Tobias said, fighting another man from the Chango . "That'd be good."

Mary swung her sword at a different sailor, their blades meeting with a bone-jarring clang. The other man was stronger, but she was faster, lighter on her feet. She spun and dodged and ducked, then kicked him over the side to join the others. Then she turned to meet her next foe.

"I was thinking"—Tobias ducked a blow—"that we should get a better table for the shack."

"What's wrong with the one we have?" Mary knocked her opponent to the deck; he didn't get up.

"It's got three peg legs and the top gives you a splinter every time you touch it."

"Oh yeah." Now that he mentioned it, she hated that table.

"I'd like something better for drawing."

Mary grinned. Maps—that's what Tobias loved to draw. He was good at it, too, which was part of why he was the ship's navigator. "Fine," Mary said, pulling on a rope; the boom swung around and smacked several of the Chango 's sailors. "We'll get you a new table. An extravagant one with four original legs and a smooth top."

Tobias laughed as they came back-to-back to fight off the next guy, and the next.

Sometimes it was hard to believe this was her life. Every day since she'd jumped off the Fancy with no plan except sea foam, she'd discovered a new kind of strength in herself, and a new sense of purpose. At first, that purpose had been simply to take Captain Vane's messages to and fro, as she'd been a mere cabin boy. Then her purpose had been to mind the rigging and learn how to go aloft, trim the sails, and not get splattered across the deck for poor Nine Toes to clean up. And now she bested men and captured ships, alongside her best mate, Tobias.

They made a fine pair, she thought. She felt comfortable with him in a way she hadn't felt with anyone in a long time. But Tobias didn't know about the mermaid thing. Or the princess thing. She didn't know how she would even begin to bring that up.

The fighting was over quickly, after that. Her men were fierce and seasoned pirates, and the young sailors of the Chango were no match for them.

"Mr. Read," Tobias said quietly. "Your hair."

Mary felt around the back of her head, where, indeed, her hair had come loose from its tie. Well, she couldn't threaten the Chango 's sailors like this. "Check on the cargo, Mr. Teach," she said to Tobias. "I'll join you in a minute. Also," she added more quietly, "thanks for the warning."

"Glad to be of service." He grinned, tipped his hat, and turned to see about the cargo. Mary's gaze may have lingered on his backside a bit too long, but then she spun and strode quickly into the captain's cabin where she could fix her hair situation.

The room looked empty. But if Mary's experience told her anything, it was that on a pirate ship, looks can be deceiving.

"Come out from there!" Mary barked. "I'm going to count to five. , two—"

"Don't kill me!" A man slid out from under the bed.

"Get out!" Mary ordered.

The man didn't have to be told twice.

When the door slammed shut after him, Mary took a moment to root around the chest of drawers and wardrobe until she discovered a brilliant yellow ribbon. She stuffed her hat into her pocket and, finger combing her hair, moved to stand in front of the mirror.

At the sight of herself in the tarnishing silver, she went still. In the year since joining the crew of the Ranger , she'd grown tanned and strong. Her face (which, according to some people , had suffered from RBF, aka Resting Bossy Face) looked right under the cap she always wore, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones.

This was the life she wanted, one of high seas and adventure. And if the price for having this life was needing to keep her hair tied back every day, bind her chest, schedule bathroom breaks for when she could be alone, pretend to shave, deepen her voice, and act like she thought the men were actually funny—well, then so be it.

The door flew open just as she finished pulling her cap back down.

"You'd better come," Tobias said urgently. "There's a problem with the cargo."

"What problem?" Mary frowned.

"It's bananas," Tobias said.

"Bananas? How so?" Mary followed him out of the captain's cabin.

"As in, the cargo of the ship consists entirely of bananas." He gestured to a huge stack of the bright yellow fruit on the deck.

"No," Mary said in dismay.

Tobias then took her down to the cargo hold, where there were boxes and crates stacked everywhere—all full of bananas.

"No," Mary groaned.

Tobias led her to the next room. More bananas. Bananas from floor to ceiling.

"Has Captain Vane seen this?" Mary asked.

"Nope." Tobias popped the p on the word. "Which is a good thing, because the only items of value on this entire ship that aren't bananas are a bottle of banana rum and... this." He held out a worn-looking book. Mary snatched it and flipped through it.

Banana recipes. Every single page held banana recipes.

"Ugh! This is a nightmare." She shoved the book back at Tobias.

They returned to the main deck, where the crew of the Ranger was in an uproar, apparently having discovered the banana situation.

Mary climbed to the quarterdeck to address them.

"WHERE'S OUR TREASURE?" bellowed the pirates, seemingly in one voice.

Mary held up her hand, nodding, and the men quieted down to listen.

"We all know that treasure's a relative term," she yelled. "We're pirates, aren't we, lads? Which means we make the best of what we find. When life gives you bananas, you make..."

"You make what?" asked one of the surlier men.

Tobias flipped through the banana cookbook. "You make banana cream pie?" he offered.

"You make banana cream pie!" Mary agreed.

"I do like banana cream pie," mused the man, apparently mollified.

"So let's gather up the fruit and get back to our own ship," said Mary, and the pirates set to work.

"Thank you," she said to Tobias as she stepped down from the quarterdeck. "Now, we must see to the Chango 's crew."

They were all bound and lined up on the deck, awaiting their fates.

The Chango 's captain was tied to the mainmast, looking miserable in his powdered wig. Mary was glad Captain Vane hadn't showed yet. He would likely want the other captain dead as an example to those who would cross him. (He wasn't one of the most feared pirates for nothing.)

She drew her cutlass again and stepped toward the line of men. "So you've been captured by pirates. Now what?" She looked down the line. All the men looked nervous. And rightfully so.

"Are you... Captain Vane?" asked one of the men, literally shaking in his boots.

"My name's Mark Read," she answered. "I'm the quartermaster of the Ranger . Captain Vane is currently occupied with far more important things than you lot, so I'll be the one taking care of you today. Know that you'll come to no more harm, so long as no one decides to be foolish. I'm what you'd call a gentle pirate—I've no heart to injure you, but that doesn't mean I won't disembowel you if provoked. Now, I'm sure you already know your options, but for any of you who might be new to this business: you can either join the crew of the Ranger and live—or you can walk the plank and brave the drink. There is no third option."

How easy she found it to talk now. Even if she had to slightly alter her voice so they'd believe her a man. The words just flowed.

of the Chango 's crew raised his hand.

Mary used her cutlass to point at him. "Yes? You in the back?"

He lowered his hand. "Can we have a few minutes to think about it?"

Mary considered. "I'd like to give you the time. Honestly, I would. But this is one of those decisions you're going to have to make right now. Either line up there, over by the plank"—she pointed—"or be ready to sign on as a pirate. I recommend the pirate life. If you find it disagrees with you, you can always walk the plank some other time."

"Aye, that's a good point," said the man. "I'll be a pirate."

"Me too," said another.

"But if you're a pirate, you'll be marked for death anyway," the captain of the Chango burst out suddenly.

"Wait, how's that?" said the man who'd just decided to be a pirate.

"Haven't you heard of the great pirate hunter, Jonathan Barnet?" the captain asked dramatically. "He roams the sea, looking for pirates, and when he finds them, he always bests them. If you become a pirate, he'll hunt every last one of you down, and you'll die on the end of his sword, or he'll take you back to hang for your crimes."

"Could somebody get this guy a gag?" Mary asked.

"Better to jump ship now than meet your demise at the end of a rope!" the captain cried. "Beware! Bewaaaaaaaaaare!" Then Quint stuffed a rag into his mouth.

The men of the Chango looked a lot less certain than they had moments before.

"Oh, please," Mary laughed. "It's a simple choice here, lads. Live as a pirate. Or worry about some Barnet boogeyman and take your chances with very real sharks."

Every single man on the Chango chose piracy (spoiler alert: no one ever chose the plank), which meant they formed a new line where they'd march up to Mary and Tobias, who would record their names and jobs, and swear to work hard and serve faithfully on the Ranger . There had only been one casualty from her crew (poor Judd was dead). Her ship was largely undamaged, except for a cannonball hole here and there. And they'd gained thirty-six men, among them a new cooper, which was great because they'd really been scraping the bottom of the barrel when they'd hired the old one. In spite of the unfortunate situation with the bananas, Mary felt the day had been a success.

"Stop everything!" Captain Vane's raspy voice came from the rail where he was crossing over onto the Chango . "I see a woman! There's a woman on my ship!"

Mary's heart jumped into her throat. Tobias took a step toward her, panic written on his face.

She'd known this time would come, hadn't she? Something would give her away, some stray lock of hair, a loose piece of clothing. She had to do something. Now.

Wait , Tobias mouthed. His gaze cut to Captain Vane.

And just like that, Mary became aware that everyone was looking at Captain Vane, who was pointing. Not at Mary.

Everyone swiveled to look at a young Black sailor from the Chango , her hair tightly braided and shoved down the back of her shirt. She was small but strong-looking, with cords of muscles running up her forearms.

"Aye," she admitted. "I am a woman. What's it to you?"

There was a single collective gasp from both crews. Someone dropped a banana.

Mary's panic for herself sank into dread. This was going to get bad. She just knew it.

"A woman," Diesel muttered. "Haven't seen one of those in... a while."

"Ye think she knows the rules?" Mr. Swift (the Ranger 's musician) asked.

"She must, or she wouldn't have been hiding, you dolt."

"When you say rules," the woman asked almost primly, "are you referring to guidelines?"

"There are rules on my ship." Vane snapped his fingers at Tobias. "Mr. Teach, the rules, if you please."

"Yes, Captain." Tobias drew a small leather book titled Captain Vane's Definitive Guide to Piracy and Mayhem from his inner pocket.

"Read the rule about women," Vane commanded.

"Yes, Captain." Tobias scanned through the book. "Let's see. Every man has a vote, every man gets his fair share of the booty, lights out at eight o'clock, keep your piece, pistols, and cutlass clean and fit for service, ah yes. Here it is: no woman is to be allowed among us ."

"That rule makes no sense," said the woman. "I'm as good a sailor as any man here. I dare you to prove otherwise."

It was a sound argument, one that Mary would have made herself if she had ever been found out. She was a good pirate—a great one, even. But she also knew that Vane would not be won over by reason.

He drew his cutlass. "Women at sea are bad luck. Very bad luck, I say! I knew the moment I came aboard that there was something off here." He kicked at the pile of bananas. "No treasure—bah! I want her off this ship immediately."

There was only the rolling blue ocean on every side of them.

"Mr. Read," Vane directed. "Fetch the plank."

"It's already fetched," Mary said hoarsely. She'd had it set up during her "join us or die" speech earlier.

The woman's eyes widened slightly. Then her expression went carefully blank.

"Not so bold now, are you, honey?" Vane sneered. "Go on, then. Walk the plank."

"No," the woman said.

Vane nodded to Nine Toes and Squinty. "Help her, lads."

Each of the pirates took one of the woman's arms and began to drag her toward the plank.

Mary had to do something. She had to stop this.

"Wait!" She stepped forward. "We can't go throwing people off the ship. That's murder. It's immoral."

Vane sighed. "Mr. Read, we've had this discussion before. We're pirates. We have no moral code but the one we make for ourselves. We force people to walk the plank all the time. They need to fear us."

But at the plank, Nine Toes and Squinty had stopped, waiting for their captain and quartermaster to finish arguing.

"Wait," Mary said again. "Doesn't she look familiar to you?"

Tobias shifted his weight. "She looks familiar to me. What's your name, miss?" he asked the woman.

"Effie." She lifted her chin. "Effie Ham."

A groan spread across the deck of the ship and Captain Vane said, "Effie Ham as in John Ham's sister?"

"That's right. John's my big brother." She wrested her arms free and crossed them over her chest, staring coldly at Vane. "I was making my way to Nassau to meet him. Won't he be angry when he finds out you fed me to the sharks?"

"Captain," Mary said, keeping her voice low. "You can't throw John Ham's sister off the ship. It'd be like a declaration of war."

Vane scoffed. "John Ham doesn't scare me. He has one little ship—a pink, no less."

"But he's a fierce one, Captain. He's been known to take down ships twice his size," said Quint.

"And he's also known to hold a grudge," Effie said.

"I think we can risk the bad luck just this once," Mary said. "We're handling the banana situation just fine."

The captain seemed to be thinking for a few moments as he looked back and forth between Tobias, Mary, and Effie Ham. Then he heaved a sigh. "Fine. This once. But never again." He turned and picked up the bottle of banana rum and marched off the Chango and back to the Ranger without another word.

Effie strode over to Mary and Tobias. "Thank you," she said. "You stuck your necks out for me. I'll be sure my brother knows who spoke up and who kept silent."

Mary wasn't so sure that sticking up for Effie had been a good idea. The look the captain had given her sent shivers down her spine. But keeping Effie out of the drink had been the moral choice—one she wouldn't take back.

"Don't worry about him," Tobias said as they watched Vane disappear into his cabin. "He'll forget all about this by the time we reach Nassau. He might not even remember Effie Ham at all."

Mary wasn't so sure about that.