The Restitution by M. L. Tyndall

Author:M. L. Tyndall
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781618430304
Publisher: Mission Books

Isabel snatched up the smoldering pipe, lifted her skirts, and darted down the stairs, ignoring Kent’s beckoning call behind her. Terror raked over her, prodding her forward. The only thought racing through her mind was that Hann was hurt, possibly dead.

A blackened, smoking hole gaped at Isabel from the starboard bulwark. Spears of charred wood littered the deck. Two pirates grabbed Hann’s legs and arms and lifted her. Isabel peered between them to see a blotch of deep red creeping across Hann’s waistcoat. At its center, a wooden spike at least one inch thick protruded from her side. Droplets of blood marred her face and neck.

“Easy men, easy,” Cutter admonished, fear quaking in his voice.

Isabel flew to his side. “Will she—he—be all right?”

“I don’t know yet.” He nudged her out of the way and assisted the men down the companionway.

Isabel followed them into the darkness below, down two flights of stairs, past the gun deck, and into the berth where the crew slept and ate. A chill swept over her despite the stifling heat. She’d never ventured this deep into the bowels of the ship before, and the stench of rot, filth, and urine suffocated her. Hammocks swung from beams overhead. Rats scurried across tables littered with rotted food and spilt grog. Faces, their expressions twisted in the lantern light, emerged from the shadows. Toward the aft of the ship, slaves huddled in the darkness as if unaccustomed to the light.

With a frenzied sweep of his arm, Cutter cleared one of the tables in the corner, sending bowls, mugs, and utensils clanking to the floor. The pirates laid Hann’s unconscious body across the filthy slab of oak.

“Get my satchel,” Cutter yelled to one of the pirates as he tore off his doublet and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The skin on his left arm curled in a weave of purple and red. “And some water and rum!”

Isabel rushed to Hann’s side and grabbed her hand, so cold and lifeless. “Hann,” she sobbed, forcing back a flood of tears.

Cutter leaned his head over Hann’s mouth and hesitated, his eyes closed. “He’s alive,” he announced with a sigh of relief. Then, stepping back, he began unbuttoning Hann’s bloody waistcoat.

Isabel gasped and Cutter lifted his gaze to her as if he’d just noticed she were still there. “You should go. This is a bloody business and no place for a lady.”

Isabel shook her head, but no words came to her lips. She must tell him Hann was a woman before he found out for himself. But as her eyes shifted from the blood spurting from Hann’s wound to the white pallor of death shrouding her friend’s face, Isabel thought it best to allow the doctor to work undistracted.

“Very well. If you’re staying, make yourself useful.” Cutter ran a bloody hand through his hair, lifted the lantern from its hook above them, and handed it to Isabel. “Hold this over him.”

The pirate returned, and Cutter plucked a knife from his bag and began slicing Hann’s clothing from around the spike that still protruded from her body.

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