The game of dice was in full swing; the pirates argued, joked, and bickered over their wagers, while Sammy sat nearby, a little absent-minded.
Knox took a pull from his ale and looked at her.
"Mr. Worthy, shouldn't you be in the pilot's cabin?"
"Indeed," one of the pirates said wryly. "What brings you down here, in this dark, stinking hole, instead of enjoying the fresh air up by the castle?"
The men burst out laughing and muttering in jest.
Sammy cleared her throat and drew a breath.
"After Mr. Wells finished his three days of punishment—locked in the forecastle…"
"Three days for the losses he caused! They should've tied him to the mainmast!" interrupted another pirate, provoking laughter until Knox called for silence.
"Mr. Wells convinced the captain he'd had an epiphany," Sammy continued.
"God speaks to us in the strangest moments," said old Smith, a gray-bearded pirate with long hair parted down the middle.
All eyes turned to him at once.
"Shut it, Smith," someone muttered, and the laughter died down.
"As I was saying," the girl went on, "Mr. Wells told the captain he was reformed after deep reflection. Therefore, my assistance was no longer required. In fact"—she hesitated under the weight of the silence—"he claimed I wasn't capable of helping with anything related to navigation, that I lacked the intellect of a white man to be educated in the nautical arts. So, I've been reassigned to deck duty."
A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the creak of ropes and the shifting of cargo.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Worthy," said the mate.
"Nonsense," replied a man lounging against a barrel, puffing his pipe. "You're an educated young man with potential."
Sammy looked at him and smiled. "Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Pete."
"All that rubbish from that fat oaf was just to get you out of his way," said another pirate.
"Obviously heard footsteps overhead," joked one with a round face and braided beard.
"After you risked your hide for that swine," added a third, rolling the dice and grinning when luck favored him. The men laughed again, and Kayin clapped him on the arm.
Sammy watched the candle flame flicker at the center of the table.
"You all right?" Kayin asked softly, seeing the sadness in her eyes.
The girl smiled and nodded.
"I don't think so," Cody said. "I caught her talking to the ghost."
"Shut up, you lying sneak," Sammy snapped, offended.
The pirates glanced sideways but kept playing.
"Has any of you ever seen the ghost?" Sammy asked.
They cleared their throats and exchanged looks.
"Many claim they have… but I, for one, have not," said Mr. Knox.
"Just in case, some of us carry garlic," added another, showing a clove tied around his neck.
"But it's not a vampire," Kayin said.
"The only true protection is the Word of God," declared old Smith, standing and pulling out his Bible.
"Oh no, here we go," the men groaned, and soon they were debating which was better—amulets or scripture.
"Gentlemen," Knox interrupted, "if this turns into a sermon, I'll end the session."
They all nodded and returned to the game.
Then Sammy cleared her throat again.
"Does anyone know its story?"
Knox sighed. "Mr. Worthy, I thought I made it clear we don't discuss that."
"Apologies," said Sammy.
"Not at all," replied Mr. Pete in his mild, almost gentlemanly tone, more Boston merchant than pirate. "It's an interesting question. As far as I know, no one truly knows who it was. Some say it's the spirit of the old crew."
"I heard that too—back when the Garnor was a Dutch merchant ship before it was taken," another added.
"In fact, the ship's history is steeped in tragedy," Pete said.
The others fell quiet, watching as he calmly drew on his pipe.
"Before it was known as the Garnor, she was a Dutch galleon of the West Indies Company—famed for her speed and a hull reinforced with teak and copper plates. Her original name was lost; some records call her De Zwaluw—'The Swallow'—others Helder or De Rots."
"According to the story, or so they say, during one voyage the crew mutinied and killed the captain," added the pirate with the braided beard.
"And that's how she became a pirate ship?" Kayin asked.
"That's where it turns darker," Pete said, lowering his voice. "The ship was found adrift near the Azores, not a soul aboard. No one ever learned what happened to the crew—or what really took place."
Everyone listened in silence while Pete drew another slow puff from his pipe.
"After she was recovered," he went on, "the West Indies Company auctioned her off, and she was bought by the Sylvandria Company."
Cody raised his hand; Pete pointed his pipe toward him. "Go on."
"If no one knew what happened, how did they decide it was mutiny?" Cody asked.
"From the logbook," Pete answered. "The last entries from the captain said the crew was angry about a change in course and afraid of being attacked by spirits—they believed themselves cursed. And it's said that the cabin walls were covered in star charts painted in dried blood."
The silence thickened. Only the creak of the timbers could be heard.
"Stories… just stories," said old Smith. "The only truth is what's written in the Good Book: 'For the living know that they shall die, but the dead know nothing'—Ecclesiastes 9:5-6. In short, the dead have no power nor knowledge among the living."
"'And a spirit passed before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up. It stood still, but I could not discern its form…'—Job 4:15-16," Kayin added.
They all fell silent again. Sammy looked at Cody, who met her gaze with a smirk, one eyebrow raised.
"What do you think, Mr. Pete?" Sammy asked.
The sailor exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"Whatever it was… it must want attention. Or to reveal something. Perhaps a treasure."
The men's eyes widened before they broke into laughter.
"Most of those specters are demons sent to mislead men—told you, it's in the Scriptures!" Smith insisted.
"Easy, preacher, don't forget you still owe me money," said one pirate.
Footsteps echoed from the deck above. A sailor descended into the hold.
"Mr. Knox, Mr. Trumper says to resume work—land in sight! And did I win anything while I was gone?"
"Yes," a pirate replied. "Everyone's contempt for ruining the moment."
"Thank you, Mr. Todd," Knox said, standing. "You heard him, lads—back to your posts."
The men rose amid laughter and groans, heading for the ladders.
"You're very interested in this ghost," Cody said.
"If I didn't know you, I'd say it's genuine curiosity," Kayin added.
Sammy pursed her lips. "What, can't I have a hobby?"
"How are you taking Mr. Wells's return?" Cody asked.
"For all I care, he can rot in hell," she said.
The boys followed the others toward the stairs. Sammy patted Kayin's shoulder.
"How come you know so much about the Bible?"
"As part of our 'education' as slaves, we were forced to church every Sunday," the boy said. "If we didn't learn our verses by heart, we got ten lashes before the whole congregation—from the preacher himself."
Sammy looked at him, troubled, then quickened her step toward the upper deck.
Above, they emerged into the light, shielding their eyes from the glare of the calm sea.
Far off, barely visible, a thin green line broke the horizon.