Gripping my father’s wrist, I found a thready pulse. He was still hanging on, but just barely. I managed to staunch the bleeding by wrapping my shirt around his stomach like a tourniquet. Then I hung my head and stopped fighting the tears that now fell unchecked, incredulous that so much could go so wrong in just 24 hours.

The day had begun so promising – this very morning I had been marooned on a deserted island, praying for rain so I wouldn’t die of thirst, and then who should come to my rescue but my own father. I hadn’t seen him since I’d defected from the Navy and I had been feeling lonely and depressed after the deaths of Ben and Henry (not to mention the prospect of living on a deserted island for the rest of my life). So it had cheered me up to see the old coot again and it was good to be reunited with the rest of his shipmates, like Bertha and Violet.

Violet… God knows where that damn pirate had taken her. But she’d have to wait. My father needed help, as soon as possible. I had to find Bertha.