Scuttle (The Pirate King Series, Book 2)

Chapter 4: Nothing of Value

"No, no, no, no, no." I repeat the lone word, hoping it will negate what the Lieutenant just said. His previously stoic visage, however, now reflects genuine sympathy, forcing me to face the truth.

Cade's ship just exploded right in front of us.

Not wanting to think of the consequences, I take a deep breath and focus on being pragmatic, instead. "We have to search for survivors." I turn toward Graves.

"By the time we reach them, and in the approaching darkness . . .." He avoids my eyes. "I assure you, the four English ships that are closer will collect-"

"Admiral, sir," the Lieutenant interrupts. "The Saint Esprit is hanging back."

Graves appears relieved to have an excuse to turn away from me. "What's that?" He grabs the spyglass out of the officer's hand. Silently observing the distant silhouettes lit by the flaming wreckage, he eventually concurs. "That is odd, indeed."

"What's happening, sir?" My voice is filled with a hint of optimism as I step to his side.

He clears his throat and puts down the shiny instrument. "The vessel that took out the Phoenix seems to have stopped at the debris field." He furrows his brows.

"Why would it do that?" I widen my eyes. "Why isn't it following the rest of the French fleet?"

Graves scratches his chin. "I'm not sure. Unless it's looking for something-"

"Or there are survivors!" I exclaim.

"No, that's impossible. With an explosion like that-"

I step to the Admiral and grab both of his hands. "Please, sir. That was my only family on board that ship. I have no one left in this world, but the crew of the Phoenix Rising. I beg of you, please don't take this glimmer of hope away from me."

He purses his lips. "Quite." Turning to his second-in-command, he continues. "Take us closer, Lieutenant. Let's see for ourselves."

The next span of time feels like the longest in my life. Unsurprisingly, the Saint Esprit is long gone - along with its companions - by the time we reach our destination. Graves has ordered the rest of his ships to follow the enemy, leaving us temporarily bringing up the rear.

I haven't yet allowed myself to cry, but when I see how very little is left of the Phoenix Rising, I lose control of my emotions. My body shakes, and I struggle for breath as I look across the water covered with broken bits and pieces of wood, canvas, and rope.

The currents are quickly dispersing the debris, but some of the remaining, larger pieces of the wreckage are still burning. In spite of the late hour, the flames illuminate the morbid, final search effort.

"As expected, there's nothing of value left here." Graves straightens up after leaning over the railing for a better look. "The captain of the Saint Esprit was most likely taunting us-"

"But if they did pick up anyone who managed to leave the Phoenix before she blew, where would they take them?" I press on, not letting him dash my hopes just yet.

He sighs, the wrinkles on his weary face appearing even deeper than earlier today. "Yorktown, I suppose. Although don't think we're done with this battle, Miss. Tomorrow's a new day, and we will confront de Grasse again."

I nod. Right now, that answer is good enough for me. Good enough to finally return to my bed and try to rest. I don't want to invite dreams of those who I may never see again or nightmares of their suffering, but I'm so tired, I can almost hear my cat's faint, familiar meow.