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My surgeon's mate crossed himself. "Witchcraft!"
All-Thumbs grinned. "Don't worry, Wiggins. I recited the Lord's Prayer all the while I was forging this."
The other Bakers laughed – but I saw that Wiggins was not the only relieved face in the crowd.
I could hardly blame the lad. The device the ship's carpenter and captain had assembled together, that lay in a cloth-lined box in All-Thumbs' hands as if it was a diamond necklace, looked like some piece of arcana from a sorceror's lair. A strange device of brass and glass and screws and mirrors, it featured a sweeping arc of brightly-polished brass marked with numbers at the bottom, a brass indicator arrow attached at the centre, and a small spyglass at the middle, surrounded by tiny looking-glasses set at precise angles.
Captain Shear-Lock smiled at his former cabin boy. "Mathematics, Mr. Wiggins, not devil's work. Observe." Taking up the instrument by a handle built on the right-hand side, careful not to touch the numbered brass arc below, the Baker's master held the device up, winced a little, and turned a small screw that lowered one of the tiny mirrors. "A triangle is the first and most sturdy of geological shapes; it is also the surest way of getting your bearings. Use the sun by day, the stars at night for one side, the horizon for the second side, and…" He delicately moved another knob that edged a pointer along the brass sweep. "Voila. Our heading. In seconds, and far more accurate than with a compass and spyglass."
"St. Elmo," Murray breathed, looking at the number the arrow pointed to. "This will revolutionise navigation!"
"You're a genius, Cap'n!" the cabin boy cried.
Shear-Lock laughed. "Sir Isaac Newton was the genius, Billy. I merely worked from his notes. What I did was alter the size of the sweep."
"How so?" asked I. This was brilliant. Even in fog you could find the sun and the horizon, and the rocking of the ship would not alter this instrument's functionality.
"Newton called his device a quadrant as it was a full quarter-circle sweep. Mine…" The captain held up the brass arc.
"A sixth," Wiggins said promptly. Even sailors who couldn't read knew their compass points.
My grasp of Latin had not deserted me aboard a pirate ship. "Which would make this device," said I, "a sextant."
Angel grinned. "Goddamn, Cap'n! We don't need to loot other ships – show this to any country's Navy and they'll give you five shiploads of gold without us firing a shot!"
The captain laughed as heartily as his crew. "Mr. Angel, I am fully aware of this item's value. However, rewards for our heads or no, I would prefer to gift this to Their Majesties in London before I go to France or Spain. I am still that much of a loyal Englishman."
My gut filled with ice and twisted at this reminder. England; I would be hanged, drawn and quartered if I was ever captured and brought back to her shores again. The official charge was "treason"; the actual crime was that I had recognized a wicked and soulless captain when I saw one and defied his cruelty to his men.
"Let us test this little item for a few months, before I send notice to Admiral Holmes." The captain carefully laid the delicate instrument back into the cloth-lined box.
Angel shook his head. "Will Holmes even come near us now except to hang us? We're officially pirates now, not privateers any more."
Shear-Lock smiled a little. "Oh, I think I still have a connection with the man."