"My mom always told me I had the best timing," said Jake, indicating.
"You had a mom?" asked Turner.
"Was that supposed to be a joke?" asked Cordelia. She wasn't chiding Turner. She was genuinely asking. Turner sometimes had the worst timing in humor.
"Turner," said Jake, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You truly are an idiot." He wasn't, actually. He was the only person Jake trusted.
"Sorry, Captain."
Jake, Turner and Cordelia were standing abreast, looking at the sandstorm. If they left now, they'd be right in front of it.
And there it was, in the direct path of the sandstorm:
"The Ginger Star," said Turner, looking through a long spyglass. He took the spyglass from his eye. "I never heard of it."
Turner looked to Cordelia.
She shrugged.
Captain Jake tilted his head, had a thought.
"If I remember correctly…"
They waited for his thought. It wasn't forthcoming.
"Cordie," Captain Jake asked affectionately. "Please run down to my cabin. Fourth drawer down on the right side of my desk is a pile of bounties. Thanks."
She dipped her head, ran for the cabin.
Now only Jake and Turner stood on the poop deck of the ship—Miner's Danger. Their ship was much larger, at least twice the size of The Ginger Star. Their sails were twice as tall, twice as wide, catching twice as much wind. They had more mass, more weight, more room for supplies.
And they were aimed for just in front of where The Ginger Star was headed. At this speed, they'd collide. Which was the point.
The sandstorm was behind them. It would probably overtake them before they reached The Ginger Star but that was fine. Their ship could handle it. They lived and operated out here, were used to brutal storms that overtook and broke most ships. Their ship was designed for the harshest of deserts—this desert.
It had belonged to miners who worked the land, until all the miners went bankrupt and were forced to sell. Jake purchased the ship outright.
First thing he did was purchase reflective sails.
They were at full mast now. The outside material of the sails was reflective, like a hazy mirror. From a distance it rendered Miner's Danger nearly invisible.
If a crewmate from The Ginger Star were to look this way with a spyglass, they'd be able to see the hefty hull of the wooden ship, maybe. But, the reflective sails, being as large as they were, created a lens flare that could temporarily blind the spyglass holder.
So, nearly invisible.
Jake had been working the desert most of his adult life, being in his late forties now. He was getting somewhat tired—tired of the desert elements. Sand, hot days, cold nights. Used to them, though. They were practically part of him now.
This would be another run of the mill day.
Drive—ram—their ship into the side of The Ginger Star, destroying it. Then his crew would jump to the unsuspecting ship; loot, kill, plunder.
"Captain," said Turner, "in twenty years we haven't once overtaken a ship where a bounty was present."
"What does that mean?"
"That I wanna make a bet. I bet there's no bounty on that ship."
"How much?"
"Twenty thousand," said Turner.
The reason Turner was making such a large bet was because he had worked for Jake for twenty years. He knew Jake was hopelessly hopeful. Even though there hadn't been a bounty available on a ship they'd raided in twenty years, Jake still held out hope. See, Jake's very first mission as Captain of Miner's Danger, they overtook a ship that was harboring a man who had a twenty thousand gold-piece bounty on his head.
It was the greatest raid of Jake's career.
His first.
Since then, he'd always collected all the bounty notifications he could get his hands on. Picked up a stack of them at the post office in Murrieta once a month. Had picked up the new ones about a week ago. In the past twenty years, he'd reviewed the bounties before attacking each and every ship. In case. Because he was a good captain.
If there was no wanted person on The Ginger Star, they'd still make great money from general supplies AND from the ship itself.
After overtaking a ship, they would take it to the shop—Jake knew a great guy he'd been working with for many years—get it fixed up, change the name, and sell it.
The Ginger Star was worth maybe one hundred thousand gold pieces. With Jake's cut of that money, plus the loot they'd find on the ship, his cut would be well over twenty thousand.
He decided, since he was hopeful, to take the bet.
Jake and Turner shook hands.
Then spit off to each side.
Jake took out a cigar, lit it. Put his hands down on the thin railing in front of him. Turner was his first mate. Had been with him all this time, through it all.
They were overlooking the middle deck of the ship, their meager crew of seven others—four of which were in sight, on the deck, sweeping the ever-present dust, making sure the sails were tight.
"Being a pirate isn't an easy life," said Jake.
"You're a pensive pirate, you know that?" Turner said. "That's what happens when you read all those books you do."
"Books are food for the soul."
"What do they do but make a person question their existence?" Turner said.
Jake puffed on his cigar, thinking. "Perspective."
Turner was older than Jake. Sixty. His skin was like leather. He never ran out of energy. He never gave much thought beyond anything immediate. He didn't have a family. He was a pirate for life, a pirate always had been. A tough, tough guy.
"You're thinking of retiring?" Turner said.
"After today. Yes."
"Today's your last day, then?" said Turner.
"I think so," said Jake. "Take over one final ship. Then retire."
"Good news," shouted Cordelia from the deck below. She had a wad of papers in one hand. She began climbing the ladder up to the poop.
Jake nudged Turner.
Cordelia, slightly breathless, but otherwise in tip-top shape, announced, "There's a bounty on board The Ginger Star. A girl named Kora Diaz."
Turner cursed under his breath.
"What's the matter, you know her?" asked Cordelia.
Jake laughed to himself. Cordelia was always confused by Turner.
Jake took the cigar from his mouth. "Is she wanted dead or alive?"
"Either or," said Cordie.
"How much?" Turner asked.
"Twenty thousand gold pieces."
"I"ll be damned," said Turner.
"Turner," Jake said. "Full speed ahead."
Turner laughed. "The first time in twenty years had to be today."
"My luck hasn't run out, Turner," said Jake.
Turner leaned over the railing. "Boys!" he shouted in his practiced booming first-mate voice, bursting from the diaphragm, getting the attention of the four on the deck below. "And Cordie," he said quietly to her, nodding his head. Then loud: "Full speed ahead. Twenty thousand gold pieces on Kora Diaz. Dead or alive."
Turner looked at the young girl's picture.
"Looks a little like you, Cordie."
Cordie looked at it. "Yeah, I suppose so. She's pretty."
"Run the picture down to the mates. We need to be able to identify the persons. Tell them no headshots. We need her face intact to collect the bounty."