Chapter 52

A MAN TRIPPED over the rigging on the deck and knocked into barrels, drawing Jack’s attention.

“Is that him?” Jack asked.

“No,” Ben replied. “We will point him out to you when he surfaces.”

Jack fixed his gaze back on the door and thought about what Captain Hancock had said. Nora believed in her cause, and she was the most determined person he had ever met. Jack did not—possibly could not—believe in her cause. Did that make him beatable? Did that mean he was destined to fail at protecting her?

He wondered if he would ever fully believe her story. She made a strong case. But to Jack, seeing was believing, and he wasn’t really sure he had seen anything as yet to help him believe. And what if he did? What if he did come around to Nora’s way of thinking?

Living forever was not something that Jack could fully wrap his mind around. He would be guaranteed to outlive everyone he knew. His life would become watching people he knew die. But as he thought about that, he wasn’t sure that truly bothered him, never having been emotionally close to anyone other than Running Bull and his parents. Ben was much older than Jack, so Jack would naturally outlive him, and that was to be expected. However, Captain Hancock did not appear to be too much older than Jack, and if Jack took the elixir as Nora wanted—expected—he was guaranteed to outlive Hancock.

He started to push the thoughts from his mind, but how long could he reasonably expect to force himself not to think about them before he had no choice? How long could he really stay a peripheral participant in this odd game?

Then there was the issue of his dreams. If he were to live forever, those dreams should be used somehow to aid in their quest. Was this his destiny? Was this why he had been given this odd but reliable gift of sight? To use them, he had to remember what it was he dreamt when he awoke again. How many important events did he see in his sleep but didn’t remember when he woke up? Could he control this gift? If he went to sleep thinking about something he needed answers to, could he make himself dream about it?
He thought that was worth exploring. Before now, he’d never taken the time to analyze this ability of his. But Ben had told them to trust their instincts, and Jack’s screamed that there were answers in those dreams.

Jack ran a hand down his face and blew out a breath. As he circled back around in his thoughts, he realized that he did not believe in this quest. He did not believe in eternal life. He didn’t believe in the powers of the stone, and he certainly didn’t believe that he could become nearly immortal.

But he was coming to realize that he believed in Nora. He believed in her with every fiber of his being. He believed in her goodness, in her faith in him. He believed in her as a woman, and he believed in her as his partner. Not just his partner in this surreal quest they were now on together, but his partner in what was becoming his life.

Jack could admit that something had brought them together, and he had come to believe in her absolutely. And if he believed in her with all his heart, then by Captain Hancock’s theory, he couldn’t fail her. This thought hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. Whatever this adventure was, he didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want to have to say goodbye to her. Ever. Eternal life might not be so daunting with the prospect of spending it with Nora.

This new development warranted further thought. Perhaps it would be his first experiment in trying to control what he dreamt about.

Just as he resolved to try that night, a loud crash and thud came from his and Nora’s cabin, and Jack sprang into action.

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NORA HUMMED TO herself as she went about restoring the cabin to rights. With the portholes open, the cabin was starting to smell much better, but the winter air was biting, and she pulled her cloak tighter about herself as she worked. She realized she liked the domesticity of cleaning their shared cabin. For now, and for the coming weeks, this little room was home, and she did like the idea of having a home with Jack.

Of course, that was virtually impossible. Ben’s home was the closest thing she’d had to one since she’d fled her father’s holdings and left her noble life behind. Once the voyage ended, they would be gypsies once again. Would they settle at all? Or would they constantly search the world over for her friends and her brother? What if they kept missing each other? What if the others were just leaving the town as Jack and Nora arrived? How could they know? They couldn’t just roam the earth—they needed a plan.
Thoughts of the future were moot, though, if he didn’t take the elixir. She just had to trust Jack’s vision. Metal birds and buildings that touched Heaven didn’t exist in the eighteenth century. That meant that Jack lived longer, and if he lived beyond that, he must have taken the elixir at some point. Ben had many ideas for many inventions. Some he said he just didn’t have the science to support. These metal birds and tall buildings must be far into the future.

Ben had already said things happened in a sequence—each step improved upon something, so that the next step created something even better. Ben’s current passion was creating something that could light up houses at night without a flame. Nora couldn’t imagine such a thing, but there was no limit to Ben’s imagination.

Nora never heard the door open and close. She never even sensed there was someone else in the cabin with her until she felt the knife against her throat and a painful hand upon her breast.

“My lady, I have a score to settle with you. You killed my friends,” a voice sneered into her ear. She knew at once that this was the man who watched her. Ben and Captain Hancock followed her everywhere because of this man. Rage and disgust ran through her.

“You are a fool,” Nora hissed in return. “My husband is near. He will kill you for this.”

“He is no more married to you than I am,” the man replied, squeezing her hard enough that she cried out in pain. “Lord Rogan was not happy to lose such good men, and neither was I. You’ll give me the stone, then I’ll slit your throat and throw you overboard. You’ll sink to the bottom of the ocean before they even know you’re gone, but not before I take some payment for my friends.” He tweaked her breast and Nora swallowed bile building in her throat.

“I don’t have the stone,” Nora lied, surreptitiously trying to reach for her knife. “My husband carries it with him. Go fight him for it, I dare you.”

“You have spirit, milady, but I will break it just the same.”

He wrestled her over to the bed and pushed her down. In that brief moment with his knife no longer at her throat, she lashed out with her legs, kicking him solidly in his gut.
She tried to roll off the bed while he was still distracted, but her damn skirts tangled her legs and she fell to the floor with a crash.

He was on her in an instant, and she used every trick she knew to fight him off—clawing, punching, kneeing him—but between his strength and her skirts, it was a losing battle. The man broke through her defenses and pressed his thumbs on Nora’s windpipe, cutting off her air. Even though her vision began to blur, she was able to use the fact that his hands were occupied to finally grasp her knife. With all the speed she could muster, she plunged the knife into the man’s side, aiming for his heart. The blade sadly struck bone, but it was enough to make the man scream and release her throat.

She gasped for breath, vision returning, and aimed to strike again when the door flung open with a crash. Jack strode into the room, the rage in his eyes stunning. He pulled the man to his feet and hit him square in the jaw with a right cross as hard as he could. The crack of bone as her assailant’s jaw shattered seemed to echo off the ship’s interior walls.

Blind with rage, Jack dragged the man above to the main deck, past the surprised faces of fellow sailors.

“Jack!” Nora called, her voice hoarse, as she stumbled her way onto the deck. “Jack! I am unharmed!”

Jack didn’t seem to hear her, his anger holding him in a thrall. He pushed the assailant against the railing, knife to the man’s throat, intent on slashing him ear to ear. Blood began to dribble down his neck.

“Jack!” Nora screeched as best she could with the strain on her raw throat. “Look at me, Jack. I am unharmed. Look at me!”

Jack finally turned his head and studied Nora. She could only imagine what he saw—her red throat, clothes covered in blood spray and obviously askew.

Jack turned back to the man, grabbed him by the collar and waistband, and hurled him over the railing into the sea.

Nora rushed to Jack’s side and grabbed his arm as they all looked overboard.

“Not the way I would have done it, but the end result remains the same,” Hancock said.

“And just how would you have done it?” Ben demanded of his friend. “When have you ever killed a man?”

Hancock shrugged then looked back into the sea. “Oh, what a pity! Mr. Collins has gone overboard,” he exclaimed to the man in the sea, now struggling to stay afloat. “And here we are well on the way to the mother country. Tell me, sir, which way shall you swim?”