What Doesn't Kill Us--A McKenzie Novel by David Housewright (best books for 7th graders TXT) 📕

every muscle of his body tensed, his senses sharpened, and his heart raced. A shiver seemed to grip his spine in defiance of the heat from the sun and every perceptible movement flooded his body with another wave of panic.

It seemed that he lay in a state of hyper alertness for hours, while the sun plotted its course toward the western horizon. His entire being was beyond exhaustion, staying balanced on the wooden boards had drained him to the point he was sure that if he slipped over again, it would be his end. Each time he began to relax his anxieties he would hear thrashing somewhere in the water surrounding him. He dared not move, even the slightest lean to gain perspective could tip his fragile balance and the platform keeping him afloat was his only barrier against whatever predator the seas had sent. He could only lay along the boards, tortured by the thought of what awaited him should he capsize again. All through the late afternoon he listened to the sporadic thrashings as the corpses disappeared from the surface down into the depths. Eventually he succumbed to his exhaustion, drifting out of conscious thought.

PART THREE

A Fitting Betrayal

Chapter 11

H.M.S Endurance

25 Sept 1808

17 Degrees 32 minutes N, 76 Degrees 12’ W

Rowing into the floating carnage left behind by the pirate ship they had just sunk gave the men in Will’s longboat a transparent uneasiness. At sea, all sailors are subject to many of the same risks and hardships. It fosters a kinship unlike other occupations, even between enemy nations and enemy vessels. The same crew that would blow your ship full of holes and set it ablaze was just as apt to risk their own lives to rescue imperiled men in a storm. It didn’t help, William thought, that sailors are the worst kind of superstitious. He had long ago learned not to fight against it, it was often better to work around the lion’s share of their ideas about luck and bad luck.

“The dead care nothing for your fears boys. Pay them no mind and they will do the same in return.” Will said softly, trying to ease their gaunt expressions.

“There’s women mixed up in them Sir. Have you ever heard of a woman pirate?” a sailor asked while pulling on an oar.

“Yes actually. There were several notable female pirates in the last century.” Will replied as he looked over the body of one they passed. “But I’m not sure I’ve heard of an African lady pirate before. Hold stroke lads.” Will looked over a woman, floating face up just feet from the longboat. She was young, perhaps in her early twenties, with a shot wound high in her abdomen and another near her shoulder. Her face had a strong beauty, even in death with her soaked braids floating around her head like Medusa’s snakes, she had a defiant look even in unconsciousness.

“Fish her over to the boat,” said Will, drawing a bewildered look from all aboard.

“That’d be frightful luck Sir…” said the sailor who had been asking about women pirates.

“You wanted to know about a female pirate, now you can have your look. Just pull her in next to us with an oar, I want to see something.” Will said.

“I’d thought you would’ve probably already seen it by now Sir,” another sailor jested, drawing a nervous chuckle from several others.

“Just bloody well pull the woman’s corpse over to the damn boat.” Will said resisting a laugh himself.

The sailors awkwardly reached out with two oars and as gently as they could, moved the body closer in toward their longboat, shuffling in their seats to the far side as she drew near. Will, reached down and took the woman’s hand in his, pulling her arm slightly out of the water. He gingerly pulled back her loose shirt sleeve, exposing her wrist. Closely inspecting the wet skin of her wrist revealed scars, not fresh scars, old wounds from being bound that had healed long ago. Gingerly, he lowered her arm down and then pulled up the other repeating his inspection to reveal similar scars. As he was about to lower her arm back down, Will felt the hand in his grasp tighten with such slight force that it might have been a whisper. It was like he had been bolted by lightning he almost threw the arms away it gave him such a startle.

“She’s alive!” he exclaimed. “She’s alive, help me haul her in lads, come on.”

The crew in the longboat tried as gently as they could, to lift her from the water. But as they lifted her from the tug of the sea the woman let out a painful groan.

“It’s ok miss, we’ll get you some help.” A sailor said.

“Why would we nurse her to health? So we can hang her as a pirate?” another quipped, cutting him short.

“She is an escaped slave lad.” Will said in a stern tone, “She’s probably been through hell and back. We will nurse her to health if we are able. On my order, if you need a reason, but I would expect your humanity would suffice you.”

“She’s a pirate Sir. Slave or not, if we don’t hang her, it’s our necks,” the sailor grumbled.

Will felt his face flush red, the line of conversation was gradually raising his blood in anger. He reached to his waistband and pulled his cutlass from its scabbard.

“She stays aboard, on my order. Now row for their longboat so we can finish this sortie lads.” Will said in a low tone.

Looks were exchanged aboard the longboat, some of the men seemed unsure of their situation, others seemed unsure of the challenges their Lieutenant was receiving. Will reminded himself that these men, most of them, were not of his crew from the Valor. Even if they were, the Valor had mutinied, tossing Captain Grimes overboard to leave him for dead. As the longboat approached the boat of dead pirates, Will felt completely and utterly alone,