I'm already crying when I dodge between two slow-moving carriages and cross the street. Elated at finally seeing the survivors, but disappointed knowing who's not among them, I sniffle before wiping my eyes.

Sam Bellamy – Charlie's best mate and almost likeness save for his dark hair – leads the group. His long strides carry him ahead of Master Gunner Daniel Tew, as well as former Dutch-colonial slave and current ship's cook Jonas. But it's the sight of the final sailor from the Phoenix Rising coming up the pier, which makes me lose control of all my emotions.

I haven't wanted to admit it for fear of the worst, but I now realize that after Cade, my greatest worry has been for Henry's safety. As he pushes past the others to reach me, I feel myself getting faint. Sam gets to me just in time as I drop the bag and collapse into his arms.

"Miss. Miss! Are you all right, Miss?" I open my eyes to see the boy hovering over me, as the others look on with equally worried expressions.

I rub my temple and attempt to push myself up. "Yes. It's just the heat and worry of the last few days, that's all." Sam helps me to my feet and steps away. "Thank you, Mister Bellamy. It's wonderful to see you. It's wonderful to see you all."

I briefly look into each of their faces, which now display a mix of relief, weariness, and perhaps a bit of guilt. Although Jonas' arm is in a sling and Tew's spectacles are bent, none look too worse for wear. At least they're alive, which is more than we can say about many others who sailed among us.

Thoughts of Charlie as he lay dying in my arms flood my memory, and my eyes fill with tears. I may regret it, but there's one question to which I must immediately know the answer.

"The captain. Do any of you know of Captain Kincade's fate?" I blurt out.

Henry looks at Jonas, who in turn glances at Tew. The spry, old man then faces me, but instead of looking at my face, he stares past at Sam in the background.

"What is it? Why aren't any of you answering me? Is he dead? Because if he is I want to know." I turn around. "Please, Mister Bellamy. I need to know."

He shakes his head and touches my elbow. "No, Miss Ana. The captain's not dead. Or he wasn't when I last saw him."

My heart skips a beat at the news, but Sam's tone warrants pursuit. "Why don't you sound happier about that, Mister Bellamy? What are you keeping from me?"

Sam pulls away and looks at the ground. "The French may have pulled him out of the water, but he was hurt, Miss."

"How bad?"

He bites his lip before answering. "Bad enough that we're not sure if you should get your hopes up."

I cover my mouth with my hand and squeeze my eyes shut, but nothing can bring back my prior ignorance. I have no choice, but to accept what Sam is telling me. In fact, I must use it spur on our undertaking to find Cade.

I take a deep breath and open my eyes again. Squaring my shoulders, I intertwine my fingers in front of me before licking my dry lips. "You'll need to tell me everything in detail, but not here."

"With no ship nor currency, we'll have a right time finding a proper place to talk in private," Tew interjects, adjusting his crooked spectacles on his nose.

For the first time in hours, I smile and tap my carpetbag with my boot. A disgruntled meow follows, prompting Henry to run over and kneel beside it. Before I can object, he opens the clasp and the sleepy cat pokes her head out.

"Ginger!" The boy exclaims, scooping the furball into his arms. As he rises, I see a tear roll down his cheek and almost being crying again, as well.

"Well, whadda ya' know." Tew scratches his head at the sight of another survivor, albeit a feline one. "But that there still doesn't solve our monetary dilemma."

I nod. "Agreed, Mister Tew, but this and its companions on the bottom of that bag might." Pulling the gold bar halfway out of my pocket, I turn just enough to let my companions see. One-by-one their eyes widen and a smile forms on their lips before I tuck it out of view again. "The problem is converting it into a usable form."

Sam shakes his head and turns his palm upward to me. "Oh, that won't be a problem at all, Miss Ana. Just leave it to me."

I look past the man and observe Tew nodding in the background. Sticking my hand back in my pocket and palming the gold, I give it over to Sam as discreetly as I can. "Very well, Mister Bellamy. I'll trust your judgment, but what shall we do in the meantime?"

Taking the lead, Sam ushers us away from the docks and quickly finds the local tavern. We sit at a table in the corner, drinking ale as he converses with the proprietor. Soon enough, the burly man leads us up the stairs and provides two adjacent rooms for our use. He also sends up supper, and we gather around a table in my chambers. Tired and over the initial high from our reunion, we eat in silence. As I lean forward to take another piece of corn bread, the necklace with Charlie's ring swings out from the confines of my top.

"He's dead. Ain't he?" The jewelry catches Sam's attention, and everyone stops mid-meal to look at me.

Swallowing my squash soup, I put the spoon down before answering. "He was badly hurt, but still conscious when the men from the Bedford pulled him on board. There was nothing the physician could do for him, but he went to the Lord peacefully," I state flatly, almost glad to finally get the worst news I have off my chest.

"Master Crane is gone, too." Henry looks down, staring into his bowl. "Saw him blown straight right off the deck of the Phoenix."

I place my hand on top of the boy's in an attempt to comfort him, and he returns the gesture with a weak smile.

"Aye, we lost Cox, as well." Tew breaks a chunk off his bread and pops it into his mouth. "Don't know how we'll replace him. Best damn gunner I've seen, he was," he laments between chews.

The rest of my companions also begin to eat again, and I realize we may be done with eulogizing the dead. I didn't get to know either man well – the gunner mostly kept to himself and the carpenter turned off my attention with his lecherous glances, – but now it's too late to regret my ignorance. Instead, I focus on satisfying my curiosity about that fateful day.

"And the others? Apart from the three dead and the four of you, nine men are unaccounted for." I scoot my chair forward. "Were the rest taken onboard the Saint Esprit? Is that why she hung back after the final confrontation?"

Sam balls his hand into a fist, but instead of slamming it down, he only taps the tabletop. "It was chaos, Miss. Between the smoke and the floating wreckage, it was hard to keep count, much less see who may have been taken."

I sigh. "My apologies, Mister Bellamy. I know it must have been a terrible ordeal."

"Aye. That it was." He rubs his face in his hands, and it occurs to me that Sam's frustration is more from being unable to help his crewmates than anything else. Sitting here – physically unhurt and safe from further harm – most likely exacerbates that feeling. I need to let him know his survival wasn't in vain, but rather an asset in our upcoming endeavor.

"We're going to get them back, you know." I reach over and take one of his hands in mine.

He looks up at me with wide eyes. "Get them back? You mean a rescue?"

Next to me, Henry stirs in anticipation, but I keep my focus on Sam as I nod and smile. The man's expression, however, remains dubious. "Forgive me for sayin' so, Miss, but a woman, a child, and two old men are no way to stock a rescue party."

I glance at Tew and Jonas, but the Master Gunner just shrugs and the cook doesn't appear to have understood the slight. "I couldn't agree more, Mister Bellamy." I get up from my chair and head toward the bed. After pulling my carpetbag out from under the mattress, I lug it back to the table. "And that's where this comes in."

Reaching in the bag, I remove the gold until there are only three bars remaining on the bottom. I continue to equally distribute the loot, pushing three bars in front of each of my four companions.

"You'll use this to secure us a ship and crew, preferably before day's end tomorrow." I sit down again and interlace my fingers on the tabletop. "We know our friends were likely on board the Saint Esprit three days ago when she returned to Yorktown. There's no guarantee that's their final destination, so we'll need to set sail as soon as possible to make sure we're on the right trail."

"Are you sure, Miss? Trusting us with this gold, I mean?" Tew raises a brow while glancing at the other men.

"Captain Kincade trusted you with his life, and a few gold bars are nothing compared to that." My voice cracks at the thought of the man I love, but I raise my chin and continue. "But I can't force any of you to do my bidding, and you're free to refuse what I can only politely request. If you would rather go off on your own, I will neither stop nor hold it against you. All I ask in that case is for you to give the bars to your companions and take a smaller sum from the coins Mister Bellamy has exchanged."

"I go," Jonas speaks up for the first time today, and his smooth baritone voice makes me jump.

"Are you making your choice now Mister Jonas?" I look into his brown eyes, feeling a slight disappointment. Although I can't blame the old man for wanting to avoid further trouble, I had grown quite fond of his quiet fortitude.

He clears his throat and speaks again. "I go . . . with Miss Ana. Save captain and friends."

Tears of job flood my eyes and I swallow before attempting to speak again. "Thank you. Thank you, Mister Jonas."

"How will we get into Yorktown?" Henry pipes up next to me, diverting the conversation back on track. "It's occupied by Colonialists, guarded by the French, and we're on the losing side at the moment."

"We'll worry about that when the time comes, but now there's still one thing that I must know." I look at the wry old man across the table from me. "How did things turn out this badly, Mister Tew? The French fleet ended its engagement, yet the Phoenix attacked even after the Admiral called for a retreat."

The Master Gunner removes his bent spectacles and begins wiping the glass on his dirty shirt. "You're mistaken. There was no such order."

I wrinkle my brows. "Of course there was. I was standing next to Graves when he gave it and then watched the men raise the signals on the mast."

Sam leans forward, putting his arms on the table. "I must concur with Master Tew. We received no such signs. In fact, the Captain gave the command to fire our cannons after observing the flags on the Princessa. Isn't that right, Henry?"

"Aye, sir." The boy next to me straightens up at being invited to join the conversation. "There was no question the signal meant to attack."

I rub my temple to temper the growing headache I'm getting. "Then it was either a mistake or deception, and neither paints a favorable picture of His Majesty's Navy." I close my eyes and sigh. "But the cause now is irrelevant. What happened next?"

Tew places his spectacles back on his nose. "We attacked and waited for the others to join in, but help never came."

"They left you to die," I whisper, concluding what must have been on all their minds at that moment.

"Aye, but the Captain's quick thinking saved many of us." Sam takes over. "As soon as he noticed our dire predicament, he called for the crew to abandon ship. He himself didn't flee until everyone standing had already jumped overboard. Almost didn't make it because of it, too."

"Is that when he got injured?" My breathing has suddenly become shallow.

Sam nods. "He'd made it to the top of the railings when the ship blew. The force of the blast pushed the Captain clear off the vessel."

I squeeze my fingers together tight. "Was it shrapnel then?"

"From what I could tell . . .." Sam hesitates and looks at Tew. The older man gives him an encouraging nod so he continues. "It was more the fire, Miss. Singed the Captain mighty good on one side."

"Oh, dear Lord." My hands begin shaking as I imagine the possible damage an explosion like that could cause to a man at such close range.

"I tried getting to him, I really did." Sam blinks rapidly, looking at each of us. "But the tide . . . it swept me further away with every stroke."

I reach across the table and put my hand on his. "It's not your fault. None of this is our fault." I look at the others, feeling just as dejected as they look. Although their reaction is natural – caused no doubt by a combination of fatigue and helplessness – mine is shameful, coming from mentally blaming Cade for this situation.

I know I shouldn't. He was just following some ingrained duty as a loyal subject of King George III. But he still had a choice. And he chose to put his crew, himself, and me into unimaginable – and unnecessary – danger. If he'd listened to me, we'd be halfway to England by now. Instead, three men are dead and nine – including my beloved pirate captain – are missing. If we're lucky, they're prisoners of war, but getting behind enemy lines and attempting a rescue will take much more than luck.

And I'm tired. I'm so, so tired.

"I'd say it was time to get some rest, gentlemen." I push my chair back and rise. My companions do the same, stuff their pockets with the gold, and take their leave. Ginger runs after Henry, nearly tripping the boy on his way out. "You can take her for the night, if you'd like," I offer and his face lights up in response.

Shutting and locking the door behind them, I change into my nightclothes and hastily wash up in the porcelain basin on the dresser. After blowing out the candles, the only source of light is hearth's dying embers and room falls into a muted, orange glow. I slip under the bed's covers and hope for sleep to temporarily carry me away from the pain of reality.

Even after a few hours of tossing and turning, this relief doesn't come.

I eventually get up again and throw two logs onto the fire. Sparks crackle before floating up and out through the chimney. A waft of smoke manages to escape, so moping to the window I open the shutters and breathe in the cool night air. It's filled with the familiar scent of the sea, which sparkles under the light of the moon in the distance. But there's more. The smell of horses, dirt, and vegetation – none of which have entered my nostrils in weeks – enliven my senses, knocking the chance of sleep right out of my prospects.

Leaning on the sill, I observe the street below, watching as a stray dog runs through the darkness. His tail wags happily until something else stirs beyond a bend in the road. The canine abruptly stops and throws his ears back, before turning around and disappearing into a nearby alley.

It doesn't take long for the source of the interruption to appear, as a small group of British soldiers in their standard, red coats march into the moonlight. With muskets against their shoulders, they quickly advance until it becomes indisputable they're heading for this very building. They disappear from view as they enter the tavern on the floor below, and moments later I can feel the thump of boots coming up the stairs.

I say a hasty prayer, but it's too late. The footsteps get increasingly louder until they cease, followed by a knock on my door.