November 23, 1718 - Caribbean Sea
“God damn you for a coward, Robert Deal!” Rackham shouted as they watched The Ranger retreating in the distance. John had expected Vane to sit out the fight in the darkness of his cabin, but he hadn’t thought the man such a feckless coward that he’d order his men to fully turn tail.
“The Ranger is full before the wind, Captain,” T. said.
“Which means we have no hope of catching up to them,” Rackham said, “D.C., retrieve our guest from my cabin. T., take the helm.”
“Heading captain?” T. asked.
Rackham jerked a thumb back at The Indien, “Away from that. Fast.”
D.C. came out with Adresteia covered by a blanket. The men murmured with confusion, some of them bandying about the word ‘witch’ and ‘cursed’, but John hopped down to the deck to talk to her.
“I’m not an expert in the naval strategies of this century,” the woman said, “but it sounds like you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.”
“If I free you, can you save us?”
“My offer was to deal with Vane and his men for you, to kill monsters. Not to help you slaughter men serving their country – be they English, Spanish, or French.”
“I’m not asking you to sink their ship,” John pleaded, “Just to help us escape.”
“Justice would be to leave you to the fate you’ve invited upon yourself.”
“Are you willing to die for that?” Rackham said, “Because unless I take those shackles off of you, you’ll sink with the rest of us, won’t you?”
Adresteia slowly mused over the options, seeming to take pleasure in the crew’s terror.
“Whatever you are, you still know what it’s like to love someone,” John remembered their conversation about Odysseus as he tried to think of an appeal that would connect with her, “that has to be worth living for.”
“I have many things worth living for, Captain Rackham, but if you want my intervention, you need to do more than unchain me.”
“Anything,” John hurriedly unlocked the shackles.
Adresteia shook them off of her wrists, “Kneel captain, and pray for my mercy.”
John looked at her like the notion was absurd at first, but her face was deathly serious. Rackham fell to his knees, “Adresteia, goddess of justice and retribution, please have mercy on us. Please forgive our petty sins.”
“Petty?” Adresteia said skeptically.
“Our terrible sins, our wicked evilness.”
“And your hubris too…”
John took a moment to remember what that meant and then nodded, “Yes, I have been arrogant, foolish. I should have shown you the respect you rightly deserve from the moment we found you.”
“And…?”
“And…? I don’t know, what else do you want?” John was genuinely baffled.
D.C. threw himself down on his knees before the woman, “Please, spare us and I will give up this life of sin! I will live righteously from hereon! I will spill no blood and take no wealth!”
“Hm,” Adresteia said, “We can discuss that, but for now, I’ll call it good enough.”
Light crackled from her eyes like St. Elmo’s fire. John felt for a moment like he was shrinking, but soon realized Adresteia was growing. She grew larger, until she was more than a head taller than him, and she spread a pair of black-feathered wings from her back, like some sort of dark angel. At that, many of the men threw themselves to The Goblin's deck and began praying to their various gods.
Adresteia raised a hand behind them and the sky turned black – actually, everything behind the Goblin turned black. The wind from astern turned cold – so intensely cold flakes of snow blew past them. The light in Adresteia’s eyes pulsed, even as she squeezed them shut in concentration.
“What… what are you doing?”
“Apollo may have been a sun god, but darkness was always my friend,” Adresteia said, “I’m stealing the light, all of it - even the warmth in the air and water - so unless your pursuers are willing to sail blindly through icy seas into absolute darkness, they’ll break off their pursuit soon enough.”
John ordered the men back to the rigging – they needed to make the best speed possible, regardless of what happened, but when Adresteia finally released her hold on the light he could see she’d been right. The tropical waters behind them were dotted with ice flows, and The Indien had turned hard port to avoid the bizarre anomaly. Some of the men cheered, but many were too bewildered by what they’d seen.
Adresteia returned to human form and walked over to the stair to the aft deck to sit down, visibly exhausted. John beckoned for food as he took a knee in front of her.
“That was…” the words escaped him.
“A miracle?” Adresteia said, “Miracles were our trade back in the day. Miracles, blessings, and curses. Takes a lot out of someone, but the repentant prayers of dozens of terrified pirates? Exactly the sort of thing that gets my blood going.”
“I owe you my life. We all do,” John said, “whatever you ask of me, I will do it.”
“I’d ask you to renounce piracy, but I think that’s a bit unrealistic. And I’m not naïve, Captain Rackham. There’s little difference, morally, between the predatory actions of this little floating society you’ve created and the empire’s whose ships you often prey upon. So flaunt their laws as much as you see need to feed your people, but promise me one thing – never again shall you spill innocent blood.”
“… Just for the sake of clarity, how do you define, ‘innocent’?”
“Simple rule, Jack, if you think maybe you ought not to do something, don’t do it.”
“Yeah,” John nodded, “I understand. I promise. But when you say spill blood…”
Adresteia rolled her eyes, “A punch here or there is fine.”
“Thank you,” John said as D.C. brought forth an offering of fruit and dried meat.
“You, my darkly complected friend, are wasted aboard this ship.”
“Ma’am?” D.C. was puzzled.
“You promised to give up this life of violence, but I think pirates are too skilled at it to take up farming. The talents you’ve honed aboard this ship need to be put to service of a cause greater than yourself. Seek out the cimarrones in Jamaica, and you might find such a purpose. Perhaps one day your captain will follow your example.”
“Yes, ma’am.” D.C. nodded his head respectfully.
T. had been looking on, and at last he spoke, “You realize that many of the Christians aboard this ship saw those black wings and likely believed you’ve taken up with Lucifer, Captain.”
“I think there’s some non-Christians that’d likely say that too,” John said, “And some will be wondering if it was really Vane who killed the Spaniards on last night’s prize. But right now, Adresteia is our savior, and our betrayers are aboard The Ranger.”
“What do you intend captain?”
“I want my revenge on the devil himself, or as he calls himself right now, Charles Vane. Adresteia, will you still stay and fight beside us?”
“On the off chance that he hasn’t killed the women and children he took hostage?” Adresteia said, “Yes, I will deal with Vane and his men.”
“Stay on The Ranger, then, T. We’ll catch up to her and see what her crew has to say.”
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