Isle of Fire

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  Cat suddenly woke. His nose had been bleeding from the fall, and his blood left a puddle on the cell floor. He stood up, wiping his nose with the back of his arm. He looked down at that puddle of blood and was reminded suddenly of the nails from the Isle of Swords, the Nails of Christ. And he remembered something Father Brun had told him. “You know, the Holy Scriptures say, ‘Old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.’”

  What was it that the Brethren said to pray? Cat couldn’t remember. Something in Latin, he thought. But I don’t know Latin! They kneeled, that was it. But sometimes they stood. Other times they linked arms and looked toward the sky. Cat shook his head and decided it didn’t matter. He’d just do it. And for the first time in his life, Cat tried speaking to God. Right there in his cell in the bottom of a ship full of enemies sailing on a violent sea . . . but none of that mattered anymore. And when he was finished, Cat knew just what he needed to do.

  It hadn’t taken long to liberate the Oxford. It was a small crew consisting of several Raukar warriors and only a few of Thorne’s men from the crew of the Talon. When the others had fallen, Jules picked up a man named Tarber by the neck with one hand, held him at eye level, and said, “CHOOSE.” Tarber promptly surrendered.

  Back on board the Bruce, Ross had a few questions for Mr. Tarber. “Where is Commodore Blake? How many of your men are still on shore in London? Where has the rest of your fleet gone? Where are Captain Thorne and the Merchant?” Tarber did not answer, so Ross said, “Apparently, Mister Tarber is doing his best imitation of a clam.

  Red Eye?”

  “Aye, sir?”

  “Feel like cleaning your teeth again?”

  “That I do, sir,” said Red Eye as he slid a dagger from his boot. He grabbed Tarber by the shoulder and said, “Come with me.”

  Red Eye’s skillful interrogation techniques had answered all but one of Ross’s questions. There were close to three hundred warriors still on the shore. Thorne and the Merchant had taken more than half of the Raukar fleet to the Caribbean to conquer the Brethren on their island stronghold at Saba. But Tarber wasn’t sure what became of Commodore Blake. The last he knew, Blake and his wife were still prisoners on the Raven’s Revenge.

  “Declan!” called Stede from the prow. “Yer not going to b’ believing this, but there b’ a little bald fellow in a rowboat over here. And he b’ asking for ya by name.” Stede looked back over the rail. “There b’ another man with him . . . I think it’s the commodore.”

  The crew raced over and worked together to carefully haul the rowboat up. Blake had been shot in the shoulder, and there was a lot of bleeding. He was not conscious, but he was breathing normally. Jules carried him below decks to the infirmary where Nubby would look after him.

  Back on the deck, Hopper pleaded, “Please save him, sirs. He’s a good man, he is.”

  “Commodore Blake is in the best hands—er, hand—possible with Nubby, our ship’s doctor.” Ross realized suddenly that Hopper was very young. “What is your name?” Ross asked. “And how did you come to be in the care of the commodore?”

  Hopper told his tale, and during it, a hush fell over the crew. They could not believe a boy of maybe ten years had done so much. “And, sir,” said Hopper, “they still have Lady Dolphin. I had to decide. Lord, please, I don’t want anything to happen to her. Please go after them, won’t you?”

  “We can’t leave the Londoners with all these Raukar soldiers milling about,” said Ross.

  “Let MacCready and a few of the Scottish lads stay here,” suggested Red Eye.

  “Yes,” said Ross. “They’re more than capable.” Ross thought for a minute. “We’ll need to cobble together a crew for the Oxford. We can’t leave that kind of firepower behind. Perhaps Mister Hack would care to command.”

  “I think he just might,” said Red Eye.

  “Good.” Ross nodded. “Thorne and his fleet are nearly a day ahead of us. But we will pursue. Get word to Cutlass Jack and Anne. We’ve a long journey ahead.”

  29

  SIEGE OF THE CITADEL

  Thorne had been forced to change course due to a massive storm front that was building to his south. He’d already lost three of the lighter Raukar ships just on the fringes of it. He feared it might be a hurricane and might disrupt his attack on the Brethren. But the storm had been churning in his mind. He had gone to see Lady Dolphin almost every one of their ten-day journey across the Atlantic. He had tried every approach he could imagine. He’d brought her good food. He’d threatened her. But no matter what he tried, she still would not speak.

  But the more he looked upon her, the more certain he became that she was his own daughter. Heather had been near the end of her pregnancy when the fire took her away, but Thorne had always assumed that the child had died. Dolphin looked so much like Heather it pained Thorne to look upon her. And yet he couldn’t stay away from Dolphin. Making matters worse, Thorne found that he could barely stand to be in his own quarters. He felt oppressive guilt whenever he looked at the portrait of his dead wife. She is dead, he told himself. No matter the voices. Heather is dead. Still he felt as if she stared at him, accusing. All these matters had left Thorne with no sleep for days on end.

  Thorne checked his instruments. They were just a few hours from Saba. Then he went back to pacing the deck of his ship.

  Even with nightfall looming, Brother DiMarco could see the storm building in the east. He had rung the Citadel’s heavy bell, and all the Brethren stirred like ants in the courtyards and in the fields. Terrible storms were not uncommon for the island of Saba, so the Brethren had gone to great lengths to make their fortress as sturdy as possible. But still, when a tempest arose, there was much to do to prepare.

  And that is why Father Henry and Father Hoyt, who usually manned the Citadel’s two battlement towers, did not at first see the approach of the dark ships.

  “FIRE!!” Thorne yelled, and Brandir unleashed the first salvo of eldregn canisters. The Raukar fleet did the same. But to their dismay, the wind took the canisters and pushed them all hard to the west. Only a third of the initial volley exploded over the Citadel’s walls or beyond. Still, that was destructive enough for such a small target. The front gatehouse went up in a wall of flame. The eldregn did not consume the stone, but anything not made of stone ignited and burned.

  When the Brethren heard the explosions and saw the fire spring up, it did not take long for them to man their defenses. Brother DiMarco rang the church bell urgently, and Father Henry and Father Hoyt gathered their men at the Citadel’s walls. In spite of the fire pouring down from the skies, the monks made their way to their posts.

  Most visitors to the Citadel thought the square openings throughout the Citadel’s walls, as well as those in its towers, were windows. They were not—they were cannon bays. And not just any cannons: Father Henry and Father Hoyt had nicknamed their heavy cannons “The Wrath of God” because each one fired twenty-five-pound cannonballs. They didn’t have much range, but if anyone dared to get too close . . . it would be over before it started. When Father Henry and Father Hoyt gave the order, cannon muzzles appeared in those windows, and the Wrath of God was unleashed.

  A twenty-five-pound cannonball slammed into a Raukar warship as it was setting up to launch a round of eldregn. The cannonball collapsed the ship’s upper deck, and the eldregn canisters rolled into the gaping chasm. An explosion followed, sending a fountain of water laced with liquid fire spreading high into the air. The fiery flood came down on another ship that had been trailing near the first. It, too, went up in a fireball.

  Thorne was livid. He took the wheel from his quartermaster. “Mister Teach, you’re done here,” he growled. “Go to the cell deck and make sure Dolphin is safe.”

  Edward Teach had just about had enough of being kicked around by Thorne. Still, he obediently went below.

  “Brandir!” Thorne yelled. “Target the towers—those cannons have the greatest range!”

  “Yes, Captain!” Brandir
adjusted his dragon necks for the wind and fired.

  Father Henry never saw the shot. There was a bright flash, followed instantaneously by a roaring explosion. And then an inferno poured into the tower.

  Father Hoyt saw his friend’s tower engulfed in flame and thought he saw the ship that had fired. He and three Brethren monks adjusted the heavy cannon and lit the fuse. The twenty-five-pound cannonball arced into the sky, heading straight for the hull of the Raven’s Revenge. If it had had twenty more yards of range, it would have smashed out a section of the starboard bow. The Raven’s Revenge would have sunk right there. But the range was just shy, and the cannonball fell just short. Father Hoyt had already begun reloading, but it was too late. He, too, saw a flash of orange light.

  Ross stood on the quarterdeck next to the helm and had much on his mind. On the ten-day voyage, Nubby had managed to remove the bullet from Commodore Blake’s arm. Blake had recovered enough to resume command of the Oxford. Hack was disappointed, but he honorably relinquished the ship to its proper commander. But before Blake left the Bruce, he’d told Ross about Dolphin. Amazing, he thought. All this time and she never knew.

  “Her b’ one terrible tempest!” Stede exclaimed, snapping Ross out of his thoughts.

  “Can we get around it?” Ross asked, his voice high and desperate.

  “Yes, mon,” his quartermaster replied. “I’ll get ya round it, but we b’ getting to Saba right before the storm hits. I b’ thinking that.”

  Ross looked over his shoulder. Only Anne, Cutlass Jack, and Blake were keeping pace with him. The Scottish schooners and sloops had all fallen way behind at sea. They just didn’t have the sails to match the Bruce’s speed. In a way, Ross was glad. Perhaps, they’ll have the good sense to stay away from this hurricane. He stared off the port rail at the curving black storm wall. It’s going to be a bad one.

  “They have abandoned the walls,” said Brandir.

  “Good,” said Thorne. He looked at the burning walls, but the main buildings, the keep far beyond, were still unscathed. “Why aren’t we hitting their fortress?”

  “Wind and distance,” said Brandir. “The monks were smart to build their keep so far from the shore. The storm robs us of even more range still. Our cannons will not reach them from here.”

  “Then,” said Thorne, “we’ll have to take the battle to land. Brandir, see to it that the Berserkers are ready. I will signal the rest of the fleet.”

  The main gate of the Citadel still burned and was uncontested. But when the Berserkers and other invaders came through it to the other side, they found more than they had bargained for. The monks had dug dozens of trenches, and the moment the invaders charged into the courtyard, the Brethren emerged and fired crossbows. The volley of arrows slammed into the attackers. Many fell. The Berserkers, numbed by their maddening elixir, took several darts each but still approached. They fought on, not caring or not realizing that they were already mortally wounded.

  Ross saw the flames and smoke and feared that again they were too late. But as he looked through his spyglass, he saw that the Citadel’s keep looked to be unharmed. The Raukar ships, including Thorne’s, drifted ominously just off shore. But they had stopped firing, apparently content to let their ground forces finish the fight. But from the look of things, the monks of the Brethren were holding their own on shore.

  Still, he thought, there are so many ships.

  “We won’t survive a fight with them,” said Stede.

  “I know,” said Ross. “But we’ve got to try.”

  Red Eye appeared by the captain’s side. “Sir, if I may?”

  “Of course, Red Eye, what is it?”

  “I’ve been talking to that Hopper lad, and he has an idea how we can get Lady Dolphin back.”

  “I’m listening,” said Ross. When Red Eye told the plan, Ross looked up sharply. “You can’t be serious. In these seas?”

  Red Eye nodded. “Jules can row through that.”

  Suddenly, Hopper was right behind Red Eye. Ross looked at the brave young lad and shook his head. “I cannot allow this. You could be killed.”

  “If you’ll pardon my sayin’ so, Guv’nor,” Hopper said, “we’ve all got to die some time. Might as well be tryin’ to help someone as needs it. And I’m the only one who knows that ship. I know it top to bottom, sir.”

  Ross couldn’t argue that. “Go ahead,” said Ross. “But, Red Eye, don’t—”

  “I know,” Red Eye interrupted. “Don’t kill unless I have to.”

  “That’s not at all what I was going to say,” Ross said. He stared at Red Eye and felt they had reached an understanding.

  As soon as the cutter bearing Jules, Red Eye, and Hopper was gone, Ross gave the order. Jacques St. Pierre commenced firing. Cutlass Jack and Commodore Blake opened up as well. Ross hoped the diversion would work. He wondered if Thorne would notice that not one shot was aimed to hit the Raven’s Revenge.

  30

  THROUGH THE SPYGLASS

  You made the right decision, Cat,” said the Merchant. He stood by the helm of his ship, the Perdition’s Gate. Cat was steering the ship through the rough seas two hundred yards from the Brethren’s shore. “But I assure you, I am not very trusting.” He pointed to two very strong sailors who stood three paces from each of Cat’s shoulders. “This is Mister Guinness,” said the Merchant. “And this is Mister Lambec. They will watch your every move. Should you do anything . . . out of character, you’ll wish I’d killed you with my dagger.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Cat. “I know what I’m doing behind the wheel.”

  “Very well then,” said the Merchant. “I propose a test.” He pointed out to sea, just beyond the Raven’s Revenge, at the silhouette of another ship. “I believe that is the Robert Bruce. Take us in close, Cat. I want to send Declan Ross to the bottom.”

  “Storm’s comin’ on now,” Edward Teach said to Dolphin. “You can hear the wind a’howlin’, can’t you?”

  Dolphin lay in the corner. She did not answer. “Aww, you’re no fun.” Teach threw a wood chip into an empty cell. He looked at his surroundings. “No fun at all,” he went on. “I can’t stand it. ‘Teach, do this. Teach, do that,’ Thorne says. I’ve a mind to slip a knife into his kidneys.”

  “Why don’t you?” came a voice from behind. Two men of very different heights stood in the shadows. The shorter man came forward while the giant remained silhouetted. The smaller man was nonetheless fierce. He had a scar that ruined one side of his face and an eye that was blood red. This man lifted a pistol and pointed it at Teach.

  “You know,” said Teach, “I’ve had just about enough of this job. Here!” He threw a set of keys at Red Eye’s feet. When Red Eye looked down to pick them up, Teach kicked the gun out of his hand. But Teach did not stay to fight. Instead, he ran the other way out of the cell deck.

  “That was easy,” muttered Red Eye. He picked up the keys and the pistol and said, “Hopper, you can come out now.” Jules came forward, and like a puppy emerging from behind his master, Hopper came out from behind Jules. He trotted over to Dolphin’s cell.

  “My lady, get up,” Hopper cried out. “It’s time to go.”

  Bartholomew Thorne gripped the spyglass so hard it nearly cracked. He could not believe his eyes. Declan Ross had somehow found him after all this time. “But how?” Thorne asked aloud. “How did you know?” The Robert Bruce kept its distance but was firing madly.

  Three other ships sailed near Ross and fired at the Raukar forces. Two of them Thorne did not recognize. But the other . . . the other was the Oxford. The blood drained from Thorne’s face. “Blake . . . it cannot be!” Teach had assured him that Commodore Blake was dead. “MISTER TEACH!!” Thorne turned to look for Edward Teach but then remembered he’d sent his quartermaster down below to watch over Dolphin. “Brandir, come here, quickly!”

  The Raukar warrior ran to his side. “Take the wheel,” Thorne said. “Keep us clear of those three ships. Let the Merchant and the others take them on.”


  “Yes, sir,” said Brandir, liking the feel of the wheel. “But, ah?”

  “I’ve got to go below for a moment,” Thorne warned him. “But I will be right back.”

  Lightning crackled overhead, but the thunder was lost in the blasts of a multitude of cannons. Just before leaving the quarterdeck, Thorne gazed at the dark, undulating sky. The hurricane and its winds seemed to have shifted somewhat to the north. Perhaps the storm would not strike the island with its full force after all. Thorne dropped down from the quarterdeck and ran to the hatch that led below. He had a few questions for Edward Teach.

  “I see them,” said Stede, looking through the spyglass, through the spray and chop. “They’ve got Dolphin! They’ve got her.”

  Ross grabbed the spyglass. He saw the little boat bobbing up and down between tall waves. “I just hope they can make it back.”

  “We’re not quite in range,” said the Merchant. “Closer, Cat!”

  “I’m fighting the sea and the wind to stay on their stern!” Cat yelled back. “Ross’s ship has teeth. Remember, if they are in our range, we are in their range.”

  “Anne!” yelled Father Brun from the deck of the Constantine. “The Merchant is maneuvering to the Bruce’s backside!”

  “Two can play at that game,” muttered Anne. She spun the wheel and a stiff wind slammed into her sails. The Constantine lurched forward and gained on the Perdition’s Gate.

  Thorne ran down the final flight of stairs to the cell deck. He turned the corner, ran into the chamber, and found Dolphin’s cell . . . empty. Edward Teach was nowhere to be seen.

  “NOOOO!!” Thorne bellowed, and he kicked the cell door shut. Thorne took his bleeding stick out of its holster and ran back up the stairs.