Alexander's POV  - chapter 9

His heart pounded in his ears as he waited impatiently for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. A single lantern creaked as it swung, casting eerie shadows that danced with each rock of the ship. 

 “Lookin’ for somethin’, kid?”

 Alexander froze, scanning the darkness for the voice. He wondered, vaguely, if it was a common slang among thieves to call someone a young goat—and whether he should be offended. “No,” he lied. “Why aren’t you up on deck? Participating in the…” His mouth twisted. “...entertainment?”

 The silence stretched for a moment. Alexander crept forward, still searching the dim for something he could use.

 “I don’t care for mutinies,” came the drawl at last.

 Curiosity unfurled within him. “You liked her?”

 “Whatever. She’s dead now.”

 “Not yet, she isn’t,” he muttered softly. Why he was so determined to save her, he couldn’t explain.

 “Rope’s over there, in the crate by the ladder.”

 Alexander’s feet halted. Surprise shot through him. “Thank you.” He rushed back to the ladder, looping the heavy length of rope over his shoulder. Halfway to the main deck, he paused. “What’s your name?”

 It took a moment for the pirate to respond.  “Johnny.”

 In a ship full of enemies, it seemed he’d found an ally. It took him all of ten seconds to sneak up to the poop deck, and when he looked back down on the crowd of jeering men and saw her—saw her— 

 His thoughts stuttered to a stop.

 She was standing so close to the edge, her heels were practically hanging over the side. She was missing her shirt—clinging to her last bit of modesty by a linen wrap around her chest—but rather than embarrassment, a wave of outrage swept over him, tightening his fist around the coil of rope. Those bastards, he thought furiously. 

 The wind caught her hair, whipping it away from her face, and the bright anger in her eyes, the stubborn set of her lips, the defiant tilt of her chin…

 He’d never seen a more breathtaking woman in his life.

 Not that it mattered—he was only doing this because it was the right thing to do. She was a woman in distre— 

 Shock tore through him.

 One blink, and she was gone. The splash was immediately drowned out by raucous cheering.

 He only had moments. Alexander raced to the taffrail, peering down. A balcony jutted out of the captain’s cabin below, and he didn’t hesitate before swinging himself down, dropping with a quiet thud. 

 Alexander cursed his shaking hands as he tied the rope around his waist, then turned to the railing. Round turn, he chanted to himself. Their jeers and cat calls changed pitch. First half hitch. He crossed the rope over and tucked it beneath the first loop.

 “She’s under!” someone shouted delightedly.

 Second half hitch. He cinched it, the rope biting into his palms.

 But as soon as he gripped the railing, intent on flinging himself over, he froze. The water looked like ink, some twenty feet below. This was insanity. 

 But she was drowning. 

 Alexander took a deep breath and dove off the ship.