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like that. He didn’t want to die, period. Thoughts spun around his head like the wheel of a ship with no helmsman there to steady it. He thrashed about likea fish caught in a net until finally he realized brute force wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He gathered up his wits, along with the hatchet he’d nearly forgotten, and cut himself free. By then, he didn’t know which end was up, but he followed the bubbles and swam for the stars. His lungs felt ready to burst.
    A few moments later, Dean broke through to the surface and breathed deep, grateful breaths.
    “Here!” Ronan yelled, pulling him out of the water and into the boat. Barrels of food and water floated all around them. The crew was scattered across the waves, fighting to stay on top of the rations.
    “Did everyone get off?” Dean asked.
    “Aye.” Ronan nodded. “Now that you’re here. You took your time, Seaborne. That was either the bravest thing I’ve ever seen, or the craziest.”
    Dean settled into the lifeboat, breathing heavily. “Probably a bit of both.” He looked at the wounded captain, then out at the wreck of the
Reckless.
“Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”
    Ronan watched the ship slip away. “No, I suppose it won’t, at that.” He patted Dean on the back. “You did right by us here, swabbie. Good job.”
    Dean leaned out of Ronan’s reach. “I didn’t do it for you. We’re dead without those provisions, remember?”
    Ronan laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. We’re dead either way. We already didn’t have enough gold to give One-Eyed Jack aproper tribute. That was bad enough, but now we’ve lost his ship as well! The only good news is the ocean will kill us long before he gets a chance.”
    Dean grimaced. “I take it the captain didn’t name you first mate for your optimism.”
    “Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong. We’re a few days from shore in any direction. We’ll never make land just bobbing along the waves, and any ship willing to rescue the likes of us will probably be filled with men who want to see us hanged. What do you think is going to happen out here?”
    Dean nodded gloomily as the waves lapped against the tiny boat. Something in the water caught his eye. “I don’t know. You never can tell what the tide will bring in.” Out of nowhere, the handheld sail Dean had discarded earlier when approaching the
Santa Clara
drifted up. He snatched it out of the water. More sails could be seen floating among the wreckage. With the means to catch the wind, land didn’t seem so impossibly far off anymore.
    “Look at that,” Ronan said. “First bit of luck we’ve had on this run. I’ll take that as a good omen. Lord knows we could use one.”
    More than you know
, thought Dean, feeling guilty again. He rolled up the sail and stowed it next to the sleeping captain. “We’d best get to work.”
    Over the next few hours, the former crew of the
Reckless
used the rope lines Dean had salvaged to tie up anything that would float. Dean’s efforts to save the barrels and rigging proved to be thedifference between life and death as the Pirate Youth fashioned together a giant wooden mound. It was an impressive construct, more island than raft, and large enough to fit the full crew of fifty pirates. Granted, nearly half of them had to hang off the side and float along, but that was better than being left behind.
    They spent the next few days floating around the Caribbean and trying to reach the nearest island. Dean and a few others used the miniature sails to catch the wind and pull the raft forward, while Ronan organized the crew and assigned tasks to keep them focused on the positive work of staying alive. He did an able job filling in for the captain, who was still passed out in a lifeboat tied to the raft. Ronan had done all he could to make Gentleman Jim comfortable. A satchel was placed beneath his head for a pillow, and a few swatches of fabric were propped up over his body to keep him in the shade.