#billy bones

"Siren?"

I let my head tumble to the side, where that voice had come from. It was quite dark. How long had I been out...?

A figure approached me and leaned over. I realized it was Dr. Howell. "Siren. Can you hear me?"

"Aye..." The sound that came out of my mouth was as rough as two rocks being ground together. I had to clear my throat and swallow twice before I could make myself heard. "Water..."

Howell moved back for a moment, then held up my head with care and brought a ladle full of fresh water to my mouth. After taking in every last drop, I coughed again. "More."

Three ladles past, my brain began to function. Flashes of what had happened filled my mind.

The empty bay.

Gates.

The mutiny.

The Spanish warship.

Sayeed and Bjorn...

It was as if my heart had been lashed with a bullwhip and split in half. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, so I shut them tight to hold them off. There would be time to mourn when we were safe back home. Right now, I had to focus.

"What happened....?" I asked after Howell had rested my head back down on a pillow. "I remember jumping off the Walrus and swimming ashore... I... I tried to help as many as I could, but then I must have passed out..."

"Aye, we found you by the water and brought you and the other wounded further inland to be treated." The surgeon sat at my right, elbows resting on his knees. "Miraculously, you've suffered no grave injuries."

Only the ones in my heart, I thought miserably. No, deep breaths. Focus. "How long have I been out?"

"Nearly a day. It's early morning. The fog is still thick."

"Fuck..." I let out a huff and tried to sit up, much to my body's dismay. I felt like I had been immobile for a year rather than a day.

"Take it easy," Howell cautioned. "Don't over-exert yourself."

The world went out of focus for a moment, giving me a nausea that almost pushed out all the water I had just taken. I bent over with my head between my knees and waited for it to pass before sitting up straight.

To my left, two more men were lying on their backs, asleep. One of them was Luca. His leg was tied to a splint from the knee down. The other was Rutger, our carpenter. Half his head was wrapped up in bloody bandages.

"How many dead?" I whispered.

Howell grimaced. "Don't worry about that now. Try to rest."

"How many dead?" I repeated, a little less nicely.

He sighed, rubbed his brow. "Half the crew, at least."

I stared at him with horror, my breath caught in my lungs. Half?? It was far more than even my worst expectations! I buried my head in my hands and struggled to hold my emotions in.

God, who among them? Logan? Thierry? Folsom? I couldn't bear anymore losses, I couldn't. I would go mad with grief if this continued. Oh... God...

After taking a minute to get a grip and recover from the shock, I softened my grip on my hair and dried my cheeks with the sleeve of my shirt. "And Flint?" I croaked, face turned away from Howell's sight.

"He lives," the other replied with a note of bitterness.

Of fucking course he wasn't dead. It would be too much luck. Well... At least this way I could still see him hang, there was that small consolation. "Dufresne...?"

"Also alive, and well. He's out with a few others, scouting the next cove over."

I looked up with a furrowed brow. "What for?"

To my surprise, a grin spread wide on the surgeon's lips, giddy and almost delirious. "The Urca is here. She's here, Siren. The storm wrecked her on the coast only a handful of miles from our camp. The treasure is scattered all over the sand, ripe for the taking."

The hairs on my neck stood. I surged onto my feet, fell on my knees from the dizziness, tried again. My legs felt numb and tired, yet I forced them to hold me up by supporting myself on the tent pole. When they didn't buckle, I started to stumble out of the sick tent.

Howell followed me. "Where the hell are you going? You need to rest and eat!"

"I have to talk to Dufresne, first."

"He'll be back to camp soon enough!" He grabbed my arm in an attempt to make me stop. "You can talk to him then, but right now--"

With a sharp tug, I whipped my arm from his grip and kept walking. "I'm not about to watch anymore of my brothers die, Doctor."

He didn't try to stop me a second time. All the better for him; I didn't want to be forced to punch him in the mouth for my release.

The camp was small and rudimentary. At the top of a hill, the mess tent was set up, if you could even call it that. Lines of fish hung from racks built from sticks to dry in the sun, and I could smell a fire going. The few longboats that had escaped the warship's hell fire lied ashore by the water. The Walrus was also beached, mizzen sail laying limp and sad over the side. She was little more than a hollow husk of the ship she'd once been.

As for the survivors, they dragged their feet back and forth with nothing to do, or else sat and stared at the void. In the year I had sailed with those men, I had never seen them so beaten down, so depressed. It was hard to watch.

"Siren!" Someone called from further down the beach.

"Dooley," I sighed as he came to my meeting and embraced me. "Thank heavens you're all right."

"You too, girl." He gave my back a gentle pat and pulled away to take a look at me. "I thought you were dead, when we found you."

"Not yet. Has Dufresne returned?"

"He should be back in a minute." Dooley pointed at the hill on my left. "The Urca is wrecked on the other side of that ridge. We're trying to figure out how we can steal the treasure from the Spaniards."

Just then, five men emerged over the hilltop and made their way down into camp. I recognized Dufresne leading the front, but my skin went cold when I realized Flint and Silver were right behind him. I walked past Dooley to meet them.

When Dufresne saw me, his stern features softened with relief. "Constance, you're up. Thank God."

"Aye, I was lucky, I guess. I'm glad to see you've also made it."

"By very little. You're awfully pale, though. Have you eaten yet?"

"In a moment." I shot a glare at Flint, then turned back to Dufresne. "I need to talk to you. Now, if you don't mind."

He looked like he wanted to argue and insist I go have breakfast first, but reconsidered when I narrowed my eyes at him. Instead, he ordered the other two crewmen, Winston and Abel, to keep a close watch on Flint and Silver. Afterwards, we stepped aside, maintained a healthy distance from the camp for a minimum of privacy.

I crossed my arms over my chest and did my best to ignore a growing headache. "Is it true? The Urca is nearby?"

"It is." Dufresne pulled his glasses out of his pocked and started cleaning them to avoid having to look me in the eye. "And I know what you're going to say, I know what de Groot's stance is, but the men have expressed interest in trying to recover it, given it's so at hand. After everything we've gone through, they feel entitled to as much of it as we can get our hands on."

"Hmm." I nodded a few times while trying to refrain the anger boiling up in my chest. "I see. Tell me something: how many men are guarding that treasure? Double our number, I'll wager."

Dufresne neglected to answer.

"Triple?" I prodded. "Quadruple?" When he still said nothing, I moved on to my next line of questioning. "What about the warship that pummeled us, is it there?"

Now he looked at me with a deeply unsatisfied look. "Look--"

"And the Walrus?" I insisted a tad louder. "Is she sea worthy at the moment? Can she even sail out of this cove without falling apart? Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"I do, Constance. Those are all fine points, but if we get a shot at taking at least a portion of this prize, the others won't give me another choice."

"You're the quartermaster, Dufresne. Convince them to let it go."

"It's not that easy and you know it."

I huffed with a shake of my head. Unbelievable. "You mean you're not willing to relinquish that gold, even though there is no possible way of getting at it without dying in the process. Good God, you're just as bad as they are."

Dufresne's cheeks gained a rosy color. "That's not fair. Not that long ago, you wanted it just as much as the rest of us. You pushed for us to hunt that galleon, lied to make sure we would."

The sting of shame forced me to back down, until I was the one who had to look away. I changed the subject. "And how is it that you're going to managed this feat? Even if we could somehow get past all those guards plus the warship, we still have no way to transport all that treasure back to Nassau. It will take days, maybe weeks to repair the Walrus, and by then, those Spaniards will have massacred us. It's impossible."

He gave me this look. Not quite apologetic, but definitely regretful, like he was already anticipating my reaction to his suggestion.

My heart shriveled. "Oh, you can't be serious. After the absolute hell he put us through, you want to enlist Flint's help?? And let me guess, in exchange for this favor we let him go free? Jesus Christ."

"He has come up with a plan involving minimum risk of injury and death for us, and he even figured out a means of transportation. Given our lack of better options, I'm inclined to follow it."

Grabbing fistfuls of hair, I paced back and forth in an attempt to suppress the scream I wanted to let out. For all his preoccupations about Gates reverting back to defending Flint, he was making almost exactly the same mistake and it was infuriating.

"This is how he gets away with everything!" I exclaimed. "He starts talking and filling your heads with possibilities, and before you know it, BAM--!" I smacked my fist into the opposite palm. "He's got you all in his hand again. Well, not me! I'm sick of this! I don't give a damn about his plan, even if he's got a magic spell that can kill every single man on that beach instantly and blow that warship to smithereens! I'm done with Flint and I'm done with that fucking treasure. I want nothing more to do with it."

Dufresne inhaled sharply. "So that's it, then? You're giving up when we're so close to our goal, the whole reason why we're even here?"

"Damn right I am!" My voice echoed in the cove until whatever noise rose up from the camp suddenly went quiet. "Do you know why? Because I've already lost everything I could afford to lose to it and guess what, it's not worth it! Not to me! I already lost Billy, now Gates and half my crew, including some of my closest friends!" I stopped when the tears welled up and started to roll, but no matter how hard I tried, they just kept coming, much to my embarrassment. And Dufresne's.

"Constance... I--"

"Did you know I was there when Bjorn died...?" I forced myself to stare him down. "Yeah. Blasted through the stomach by a beam. I held his hand while he faded away right in front of my eyes and there was nothing I could do to save him. Do you know what his last words to me were...? "Save as many as you can, then save yourself, and don't waste a single second looking back." That's exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to figure out a way to get off this fucking beach alive, take as many of our men as I can and then I'm going home. If you and whoever the fuck else want to stay and throw away your lives for that cursed gold, be my guest. But I'm not sticking around to watch."

Having said my piece, I started to wobble back to camp, my shoulders heavy and slumped low. But Dufresne wasn't done. "What about your plans to free the slaves?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. I hadn't forgotten about them, I was just shocked that he would dare try to pull the guilt trick on me.

"Without that gold," he went on, "you won't have sufficient funds to liberate them. Not all of them."

Without bothering to turn around, I shut my eyes tight and mumbled: "I'll find some other way to help them. But not like this, Dufresne. I'm done." I resumed my walk.

"Constance." Though he tried to keep his tone even, I heard a faint note of despair when he made his last attempt to get me on his side. "Please. I need your help. Just one last try. Please?"

But, having nothing else to say on the matter, I just kept going.

For all my fatigue and the hours since I had last eaten, I found I had no appetite for more than a bowl of milk and some hardtack. And even those I only ingested so Howell wouldn't fuss like a mother hen. To my relief, I discovered most of my other friends were still alive and somewhat well. Thierry had burned his hand and Folsom sported a nasty bruise on half his face from hitting it on the mast coming down, but they would survive.

A few minutes after my fight with Dufresne, the crew was called to assemble to hear Flint's plan. I intended to stay by the mess tent, set on staying out of the treasure business, but in the end, curiosity gnawed at my edges and compelled me to approach and stay on the sidelines. Not because I was interested in hearing what our deposed captain had to say; I wanted to see how the crew would react, if their greed would really prevail over their anger and need for justice.

A scraggly, bleeding Flint presented himself, hair in disarray. Behind him, Silver kept his distance, no doubt already plotting a run for his life should things go wrong.

"The Urca gold is secure. A full complement of soldiers, reinforced batteries... Eighteen pounders, all of them..." He stopped to breathe. Though he was making a grand effort to remain upright, I could see him slouching, shifting on his feet like his balance was off. Too much blood loss, no doubt. I felt no sympathy. "And men who know how to use them. There's no way of approaching that beach from the land--"

"Why the fuck are we listening to him?!" Logan demanded. The others intantly joined the protest, shouting over each other, waving their fists. To Flint, he said: "We should be cutting your goddamn tongue out for all the lies you've told us!"

"Gentlemen!" Dufresne shouted, prompting them to quiet down. "No one is angrier about Mr. Flint's crimes than I."

Speak for yourself, I thought bitterly.

"Which is why you must trust me when I ask you to hear what he has to say."

With much reluctance, the small crowd calmed down. Flint continued: "And even if it weren't for the soldiers, even if it weren't for the guns, there's a fucking warship watching over every inch of the bay. A fucking warship that has already killed half your number. A fucking warship that would prevent any approach to that beach via the sea. There's simply no way of stealing that gold."

A pause, whilst the men internalized this bitter disappointment. Well, at least Flint and I were in accordance on something. Which just left me to wonder what his angle was, then, if stealing the treasure was out of the question.

The former captain raised a tired eyebrow and almost managed his trademark smirk. "But there might be something else you can steal... The fucking warship."

A small chorus of laughs made a round around the group.

"What?" Logan exclaimed, mirroring my feelings exactly.

"Too many soldiers on the beach, which means that the watch on the ship is spare. Two men approach quietly, evade a handful of sentries and eliminate the watch on the main mast. Now at this point, while the sun is failing but before the night watch arrives, an assault could be made. That ship--" He pointed in the direction of the Urca's wreck. "Is your only means of escape, and that ship is your only means of taking anything of value out of this ordeal. And once it is in your possession..."

Mr. de Groot stepped up, clearly fed up with Flint's horseshit. "Enough of this."

But Flint simply tried again, louder. "Once that ship is in your possession--"

De Groot again: "Do none of you remember his crimes?!"

"Mr. de Groot!" Dufresne warned, but the rest resumed their shouting - only this time they argued amongst themselves between those who agreed with de Groot and those who wanted to hear the rest of Flint's plan. I was certain they would soon pass from words to fists, with the way things escalated so quickly, until Flint bellowed:

"Once that ship is in your possession, you will be invincible!"

Just like that... he had them hooked. Bait, line and sinker. All eyes were pinned on him, like he was the centre of the fucking universe.

"Now, the risk falls almost entirely on the first two men out." Here, he hesitated. "I would volunteer... in exchange for your pardon."

The men traded looks between each other. Flint paced around as he took them in. "That leaves one man to go. One volunteer--"

"I'll do it."

Flint's face fell, then pinched with confusion as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder... at Silver. He had his hand in the air, enthusiastic, and smiled with an eagerness that caught us all off guard. He half-shrugged. "I'll... I'll go."

If looks could kill, Flint's would have reduced that man to ash in an instant.

"Then let's put Mr. Flint's plan to a vote," announced Dufresne. "All in favor?"

As much as I might hate it, I admit to being intrigued by this plan. We weren't going anywhere with the Walrus in such a state of disrepair, but the warship we could use to go home before the Spaniards found our camp, provided we could take it. And then, after assembling a stronger force, theoretically we could come back to this same bay and...

I closed my eyes with a despondent sigh. See? A few choice words and he had us all wrapped around his finger once more, because unfortunately... he was right. That man-of-war was our only hope and Flint was the only bastard among us crazy enough to claim it. I watched the faces of my mates while they turned the plan over in their minds. Maybe it was the prospect of still salvaging their prize, maybe it was the lack of alternatives that swayed them, but I could see they were being seduced by the chance of getting away from that place alive and still become rich. Just as I had predicted, Flint had found a way to save his skin yet again. To my extreme disappointment... the ayes won.

***

Sitting atop a dune overlooking the beach, I watched my crewmen raise camp and bring whatever belongings they couldn't part with from the Walrus. Somewhere to the side, a growing line of shrouded bodies was deposited on the sand while Dooley and O'Neill dug up a wide trench. We had no way of burying our dead at sea given that our girl was out of commission, and taking the warship would require a fast escape, so there would be no time to bring them aboard.

None of us enjoyed the idea of putting our brothers to rest in a common grave on an unremarkable cove, much less Mr. Gates, but... we literally had no choice. The dead don't get precedence the living.

I fiddled with my cross and pondered on what would happen after we took the warship. I had yet to confess my complicity in Flint's crimes to the crew. Even if they forgave me, would I still agree to join them after mounting a force powerful enough to quash those Spanish soldiers and take the gold? Or would I stay behind in Nassau and let them shoulder that burden themselves?

It was tempting. I had spoken the truth when I'd said I wanted nothing more to do with that treasure. It wasn't worth all I'd had to sacrifice for it. If someone presented me with the choice between taking the Urca gold and getting Billy, Gates and the rest back from the dead, I would have chosen the second option in a heartbeat. Still... I had made promises to both living and departed souls, and I kept my promises no matter the personal cost. Which meant that it didn't matter what I wanted. My course was charted and there was no correcting it, now.

I dropped my cross over my chest and pressed the balls of my hands into my eyes with a heavy sigh.

The sound of muffled footsteps made me raise my weary head: Dufresne was climbing the dune to join me. His forehead dripped with sweat, now that the sun was out in force, bringing soaring temperatures with it. He stopped when he reached my side and waited to see what I would do. When I said nothing and instead turned my gaze to the ocean, he sat next to me.

"Constance..." He stammered and turned his focus on the vast and endless blue as well. "I don't wish for us to fight. I respect your opinion and know you are more than entitled to being angry. Even if Flint and Silver succeed, they will still be cast out from the crew forever. We'll get to go home without any more casualties and still have justice, all right?"

I rolled my eyes. Justice would be to see Flint hang for murdering Gates, possibly Billy. Justice would be for him to be drawn and quartered for leading us into this mess. Letting him live after using us and discarding us like pawns on a chess board was not justice. I was not cruel by nature, or at least did my best to refrain the impulse toward it as much as possible. This... this was one of those instances where, for justice to prevail, one must give in to cruelty and harden the heart into stone to go on living after.

Dufresne hung his head at my silence. "When we arrive in Nassau, I would like for you to remain in the crew. More than a powerful asset, you are a valuable member to it. You were only trying to do the right thing, after all."

My mood mellowed out. I was still pissed, but... it's good to hear you're wanted every once in a while. It reminds you of your own worth. Still, I shook my head and said: "It's not up to you if I stay or not. I'm yet to reveal mine and Billy's involvement in their misery. They have to know."

Dufresne picked up a clam shell from the sand and turned it in his hands. "We could omit it, you know? I'm sure Howell wouldn't mind letting it go and put this whole ordeal behind us. And de Groot... He's angry, but he knows as well as the rest of us you've paid enough for your mistakes."

"No..." I brushed back my hair, then rubbed my hand down my face. "Sooner or later, they will realize that Billy lied about the page and that if he was in on the scheme, so was I. This crew is going through a crisis of trust as it is. Better they hear the truth from my mouth than from someone sufficiently clever to do the equation. It's the right thing to do and I should have done it long ago. Besides... I don't want you to get into trouble on my account."

At last, I turned to look at him and even managed a tiny smile. "But I appreciate the gesture, either way. Thank you. You're a good friend, Dufresne."

He returned my smile with his own. I could see his cheeks blushing as he stared down at the clam, all bashful. For a moment, he looked like that young man who had been scared to death of going over the side to fight. He had grown so much in so little time and I hadn't even realized it.

I took a lungful of sea air and felt my mind settle despite what I was about to face. "I've evaded judgement long enough, too."

Together, we stood up and trekked back to camp.

We picked the very center of the camp for my confession. Dufresne whistled loud to get the men's attention and waved them over one more time.

As they slowly approached, a mix of curiosity and exhaustion on their faces, my stomach began to twist painfully from the building anxiety. What would happen to me after I brought all my sins to light? Would they run me out of the camp and leave me to die? Would they hang me until dead, the way they intended to do with Flint? Would I even live to see another day...?

God... I almost wanted to laugh at myself when it occurred to me that I didn't want to die. Not like this. To think only days ago I had craved death, welcomed it, even. Well... if they voted to execute me for my betrayal, at least I would get to join Gates, Bjorn and all the others. I would be with Billy again. And at least this way, I could tell him it wasn't my fault I got sent into the Afterlife early.

"Are we all here?"

Dufresne's voice pulled me out of my musings and back into reality. My palms had gone sweaty, my heart hammered against my ribs to the point I could feel it in my ear drums. One of my friends eyed me with confusion, wandering what was going on. I swallowed a lump in my throat, scared and helpless, but I wouldn't falter. Whatever happened to me, my conscious would be clear.

"Very well, then. Constance has something to tell us and I would appreciate if you listened until the end and saved your judgements for when she is finished. This is important. Please."

He turned to me, looking about as nervous as I felt. "Whenever you're ready."

I nodded a thanks and took a step forward. No turning back now. God help me.

"I wasn't entirely honest with all of you." I noticed Mr. de Groot at the very front of the group, arms crossed, waiting. I looked at him with regret, then hung my head... and I told them everything.

I started with the day we attacked that last merchant ship before Flint came to us about the Urca story. I told them Singleton was innocent and Silver the true thief. I told them about Billy's lie. Told them about how we both agreed to keep up the ruse to preserve Flint's captaincy and of our efforts to capture Silver when he tried to escape with the schedule. I left no detail out. The more I spoke, the stronger their anger grew, I could see it in their dark expressions. Finally, I told them about Mrs. Barlowe's letter and Billy's intent to reveal all the lies when we returned from the Andromache, until his death.

"He wanted to tell you the truth from the start," I pleaded. "He lied because he was afraid of what Flint might do otherwise, to him or to me. But believe me, not a day passed since that moment that he didn't regret his actions. It was Mr. Gates and I who convinced him to stay quiet, which I deeply regret now. He was the only one of the four of us who wanted to do the right thing. So... please don't judge him too harshly. Or Gates. He was swayed by Flint's schemes because he thought it was in your interest. It took him losing Billy to understand supporting a tyrant would serve no one because a tyrant doesn't give a shit about anyone except himself. He wished to be here with me in this moment to tell you all this in person, but... That's why he wrote down his confession. He knew there was a high chance he would end up dead before coming clean and so it was."

I wrapped my arms tight around my body. "As for me... I know I was an accomplice from beginning to end and no amount of good intentions will ever change that. I should have sided with Billy when he was alive and I didn't. I should have sided with Mr. de Groot as well, when he told us to careen on a safer beach, and I didn't. Singleton's death I couldn't avoid, but Morley could still be alive if I had made a different choice. I don't expect your forgiveness, but I am sorry. I'm sorry for lying over and over again. I'm sorry for manipulating you into this mess... and I'm sorry for protecting Flint when I should have defended you. If you wish to expel me from the crew, I won't resist. If you wish to hang me along with Flint and Silver, I won't resist. If that's what it takes for justice to be made, then so be it. All I ask is that you return home safe and sound, and to not waste your lives needlessly for that gold. It's not worth it. At least... it wasn't to me. Thank you for listening."

With eyes closed, I waited for their reaction, expecting to hear all kinds of accusations, insults and demands for my head. But they said nothing. I could feel how furious they were with me, so why the silence?

I heard Dufresne speak up next. "Would anyone like to say anything before we vote?"

"I do."

All eyes turned to O'Neill as he pushed forward through the crowd. He stomped over to me and I prepared myself for shouting, maybe even a good old punch to the face. It took every bit of my self control not to run, and even so, to my shame, I stumbled back a couple of steps out of fear.

And then... he stood by my side and turned to the others. "Yesterday, when we were getting blown to hell by that warship, Luca got trapped beneath a cannon. I couldn't lift it up to free him on my own, so I called for help. Constance was the only one who came. She and Silver, if you can believe that. They helped me save my love's life when everyone else was preoccupied with saving themselves." He looked down at me, accent thick with emotion. "I don't know why you thought keeping secrets from us was a good fucking idea, but this I know: you're a good woman and an even better friend, so I can only assume you did it thinking it would benefit us in the end."

I frowned, bit my lip hard and nodded.

O'Neill patted my shoulder. "Then I forgive you."

Tanner, de Groot's replacement after he assumed the position of boatswain, walked out of the crowd to speak up next. "Siren pulled me to the beach afterwards. She knows I'm a lousy swimmer, so she found me something to use as a floating aid and stayed with me until I was safe. Then she went back out to help someone else. I saw it."

"And on the Andromache she saved many from death by helping me tend to the wounded," said Howell from somewhere at the front. "I would have lost half my patients that day if it weren't for her."

Randall wobbled up on his crutch. "She went and found my Betsy. Everyone had forgotten about her, but not Constance. She's got a good heart. She's good for this crew. Good luck."

There were no words to describe the gratitude I felt in that moment. Here I was confessing to lying, manipulating and being responsible for the deaths of so many, and yet I was being lauded instead of punished. I wanted to weep - with shame, self-loathing, guilt. I didn't deserve all this. Bjorn had been wrong about me. I wasn't worthy of such great men.

"On my first time participating in an attack--" Dufresne added. "Constance was there beside me. She knew I was terrified and offered counsel and compassion instead of mocking me or calling me weak. She encouraged me and looked out for me for as long as she could. With the exception of Billy, there's never been anyone more dedicated to this crew than her. I'd say that warrants her a second chance." He smiled at me before scouring the men. "How about you? All those in favor of absolving Constance "Siren" Tilly of betrayal?"

Several hands raised in the air, some more eagerly than others. Through my hazy vision, I realized... they were all up. Every single one of them.

"All those against?"

All hands dropped. Unable to hold back anymore, I hid my face in my palms and fell on my knees. They forgave me. They... forgave me. I let out a breathy sob, shaking like a leaf in the wind, overwhelmed by their love and understanding.

"One condition, though." Folsom walked up to me, grabbed my arm and pulled me up to my feet unceremoniously. He'd never been the sensitive type, after all. I looked at him with swollen red eyes and cheeks stained by tears, and in turn, he smack me up the head with a scowl.

"Ow--" I moaned.

"No more brooding in the fucking corners, you dumb fuck. You're still mourning over Billy and that's all well and good, but guess what? So are we. We all lost people during this goddamn mess, so you don't get no special treatment. If you're gonna stay, then you eat with the crew, you drink with the crew, you sing shanties with the crew. And you let the fucking crew make you laugh when all you want is to cry. Or else we're burying you up to the fucking neck and leaving you to bake in the sun, understood?"

I dried my cheeks on my sleeve. "I would deserve no less after what I put you through... I thought you would. I thought you would do worse."

"Oh, there will still be punishment, don't you worry," he told me. "But I guess it can wait until that treasure is ours and we aren't about to get shot in the ass by Spanish soldiers."

That got me to chuckle a little bit. "You're going to make me scrub the piss buckets every watch and sleep in the pen, aren't you?"

The men laughed in response.

"Don't go giving us ideas!" Joshua shouted.

"Seriously, though..." I took a deep breath and straightened up. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, which is why I am so grateful to receive it anyway. I made a grave mistake by lying and keeping secrets from you. I promise I shall never do it again. If I do, feel free to also abandon me in a remote island with a pistol and a single bullet."

"We'll be sure to keep that in mind," said Muldoon, who punched my arm firmly, though not enough to bruise.

"All right, gentlemen!" Dufresne called after everyone had come forward to have a go at either playfully strike me or make ever-more dreadful suggestions for my punishment. "Flint and Silver might hoist their signal soon. We should prepare the longboats... And we still need to put our dead to rest. Let's get back to work, shall we?"

We split up into teams to disassemble our camp and load the boats with weaponry, plus what little provisions we had. Meanwhile, the shrouded bodies of our fallen brothers were laid down into their long grave, side by side, with the same amount of care a parent put their newborn to sleep.

Nobody spoke during our solemn task unless absolutely necessary. We opted to leave their faces uncovered, this time; their shrouds would be closed after the ceremony. Once they were all tucked into their final resting place, what was left of the Walrus crew stood shoulder-to-shoulder over our friends and we prepared to say goodbye. I was at the centre, Dufresne at my left. We both looked down at Mr. Gates' ashen face.

"Well..." Our quartermaster hummed. "I suppose we should get started, then. I couldn't find our Bible, but given the diversity of faiths and creeds in this crew... Maybe it's a better fit for us to pray individually for our fallen brothers."

There was a murmur of consent from the others. Dufresne removed his glasses and put them away in his inner pocket. "I would like to say a few words before we bury them. If anyone else wants to do the same, please don't hesitate." He took a deep breath, paused a moment, then spoke:

"I've been on this crew for the better part of two years. I was never the strongest nor the wiliest. Still, I found my place among some of the finest gentlemen I have ever met. Hazed as I was, I still never felt like I didn't belong on the Walrus. I never lacked for nothing. Saying farewell to so many of those companions all at once... hurts more than I can describe. Not least among them is our Mr. Gates. To the majority, he was the first to welcome us aboard and guide us along the way. He recruited almost everyone who came after me. He had this gift for seeing the potential in people, often times when they didn't see it themselves. I was one of them and for that, I owe an eternal debt. Mr. Gates was not perfect. He made plenty of mistakes, his most egregious one being to protect Flint instead of protecting us. Even so, in the end he did everything in his power to rectify that mistake and do what was right. For that, he was brutally murdered and it's not fair. He was a good man, a great sailor, a fine quartermaster. I wish I'd had the opportunity to call him captain."

Dufresne stopped to wipe a secret tear from his cheek and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Mr. Gates, for your lessons and your service. May you rest in peace and may we see you again when our hour arrives. I hope that wherever you went, Billy is there beside you."

Having finished his speech, he stepped back to give someone else a turn. I waited a few seconds to see if someone would take the chance to speak, but when no one did, I advanced. I let out a long breath and balled up my fists in an attempt to contain my emotions before they would take me.

"I didn't know Sayeed as much as I would have liked... but I knew him enough to know he had a gentle, selfless soul. I don't think there was ever a day when I didn't see him smile. He was a talented rigger, taught me many new knots, always asked me if I needed anything when we passed by each other. And he always meant it. Plus, he knew how to make the best curry I ever tasted. I remember... Even before he had ever spoken to me, he made me some when I was sick to help me recover. That's how caring he was. May you find peace in heaven, because God knows you've earned it. Until we meet again."

Next, I turned to Bjorn, unable to hide a frown.

"I remember my first day on the Walrus like it was yesterday. I made many of my best friends that day, even if some..." I shot Folsom a jesting look that he mirrored with a smirk. "Made it seem like they would be my enemies. Bjorn was among the former, in this case. He taught me how to fight without any care for my gender. Never judged me, never thought me weak. It's thanks to him that I survived my first brawl with Cutthroat Fred. He helped me find my own strength and never once doubted my capabilities. I too owe him an eternal depth. Bjorn loved this crew, he loved the Walrus... He was entirely dedicated to us all no matter the colour of our skin, our sex, our faith or our ability. I had the privilege of being there with him when he died and... And I'm only sorry that I couldn't save him. I'm going to miss you, big man. May you feel proud as you go to meet your ancestors and may you rest in peace."

Lastly... it was time for the hardest goodbye I would ever bid.

"Mr. Gates..." I bit my lip and closed my eyes. "To most of us, you were our quartermaster. To a few, you were a friend. To me... you were all that and more. You were a mentor... And..." My breath shuddered as the words struggled to come out. "You once told me that you would have been proud to have me for a daughter. Well, I would have been happy to have had you for a father. I'm sorry I couldn't do right by you, or Billy. I loved you both with all my heart, yet I never had the guts to tell either of you. I'm so sorry...!”

A forceful pause to get a hold of myself. Dufresne patted me on the shoulder and held firmly. It helped, gave me the strength to straighten my back and finish. “Hopefully... when my time comes and by God's grace I see you two again... I can spend eternity rectifying that. Goodbye, Hal... and thank you. Thank you for your teachings, your advice, your support. Thank you for being my friend. Most of all, thank you for your love. I shall never forget you."

I backed away and did nothing to hide the tears, given that I wasn't the only one who had fallen victim to the water works. Dufresne wrapped one arm around my shoulders and I put mine around his waist in turn, as a silent promise from one friend to the other: I am here for you.

A few others also took turns to speak up about their friends, their mates, their colleagues. By the time we started closing the shrouds and pushing the sand in, there wasn't a single man among who wasn't at least sniffling. We were pirates, sea rogues used to death and loss, but never at this magnitude. I think we were all entitled to showing a bit of vulnerability, that day.