Leon glanced at him, then dropped his gaze. “Don’t depress me.”
Chapter Twelve
Noel’s head was throbbing through the temples. It felt like it had been stuffed with wool, overstuffed in fact, for it was nearly bursting. Pressure roared in his cars. He yawned, making his jaw pop, but that didn’t alleviate the discomfort. He cracked open his eyes, saw the deck shifting beneath him, and closed them quickly.
At the moment life was not good. He was hanging upside down; the ropes lashed around his ankles dug too tightly into his skin; and too much blood had pooled in his head.
He curled his abdominal muscles a bit to lift his head, and the change of position helped enormously. It also enabled him to see Lady Mountleigh and Neddie sitting huddled on a stack of coiled rope in the bow of the brigantine. Kona and three more escaped slaves found hiding in the jungle stood in chains. Leon, stripped to the waist, was being tied to the mast while Black Lonigan shook out the weighted cords of a cat-o’-nine-tails.
“It’s Moses’s punishment fer ye, matey, if ye don’t talk now,” Lonigan roared. “Forty stripes less one, and I promise ye they’ll each and every one hurt like Judgment Day.” He whipped the cat across Leon’s back. “There’s the first, aye, ye scoundrel. Now where’s me treasure, eh?”
Leon gasped against the mast and made no answer. The cat struck again, crisscrossing his back with red welts. Nearby, hanging upside down from an iron hook like a marlin caught for a fishing contest, Noel winced in sympathy.
He had finally realized that Leon was affecting Lonigan’s mind so that the pirate hadn’t seen through their trick in the cave. Otherwise the man would have surely noticed the still-wet mud walling up the passageway. He should have connected that to the mud smeared on both Leon and Noel and the wooden pail Noel had been carrying when they’d been captured. But the whole flimsy ruse had fooled Lonigan, so the pirate had to be under some kind of mental control from Leon.
Which exasperated Noel all the more. If Leon could do this much, why couldn’t he persuade Lonigan to let them go? Why couldn’t he convince the pirates that their prisoners didn’t exist at all? Why let Lonigan whip him?
Of course, to be fair, Noel knew that Leon’s gift didn’t always work. Leon wasn’t very skilled at using his ability. Sometimes he was too forceful and damaged his victims; sometimes he had no effect at all.
Still, remaining stubbornly silent wasn’t doing any of them good.
Another lash cracked out. Leon yelped that time.
Noel frowned with reluctant sympathy. He himself had been flogged before. In other circumstances he might have felt that Leon deserved what he was getting. Right now, it brought back unwelcome memories of agonizing pain, of the sobs for mercy that couldn’t be uttered, of the rage and the humiliation, of the dreadful wait through the seconds between each blow.
The next time Leon screamed. The pirates cheered and started laying bets on how long Leon would last before he begged for mercy.
Noel hadn’t expected him to last this long. Leon’s greed must be stronger than he’d realized.
But the deal between Noel and Leon had been that they would hide the treasure to use as a bargaining point with the pirates, not that they would die rather than give it up.
Noel said, “I’ll tell you where it is.”
Lonigan’s head swiveled around. “Eh? What’s that?”
“I said, I’ll tell you where it is.”
Leon raised his head. His face was wet from tears and sweat. “No!”
“By God, at last!” Lonigan flung down the cat and strode over to Noel. “Cut this piece of cod fodder down.”
Natty Gumbel and another pirate lowered Noel to the deck with a thud that wrenched a grunt from him. Gumbel’s foot rolled Noel over onto his stomach. The cold steel of a dagger slid between Noel’s wrists. There was a brief tug on the rope before Noel’s hands were free. His swollen arms fell like lead casings on either side of him.
Gumbel kicked him. “Get up, then! God’s my witness, but ye’ve made things sorry fer yerself, ye have.”
Noel dragged himself upright. The blood drained through him, and he felt strangely light-headed. Swaying, he glanced at Gumbel, who glared at him with one sightless eye staring out to port. Noel faced Lonigan.
The pirate captain towered over him, and the scowl on his bearded face was thunderous indeed. “Now,” Lonigan said. His meaty paw gripped Noel’s shoulder and pulled Noel up to his tiptoes. “Ye’ve got one chance to tell me what ye’ve done with it, or I’ll slit yer gullet and feed you to the fishes. So help me God I will!”
Noel believed him. Feeling a little short of breath Noel replied, “One condition.”
“What?” Lonigan bellowed. He shook Noel fiercely. “Who the hell said anything about conditions? I’ll not have any of yer bloody conditions, nay, and be damned to ye!”
“Then you won’t have your treasure,” Noel replied.
Lonigan put his face so close to Noel’s that Noel could feel the man’s hot breath. It stank of tobacco and rum. “Ye’re playin’ with fire, me lad,” Lonigan said softly. “I can have yer eyes took out and yer tongue slit. I can cut off yer ears, aye, and maybe a foot. How would ye like to spend the rest of yer days hobblin’ about Tortuga as a charity beggar, eh? I can have O’Malley here stitch ye into a sail with a dab of iron on yer leg and put ye overboard like a kitten in a sack. I can put ye on a hook and drag ye in our wake fer shark bait. Eh? Which do ye like, lad?”
“I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to be tortured,” Noel said, forcing himself to meet the man’s gaze although he was afraid of showing his fear. “I’ll tell you where the treasure is if you’ll meet my condition.”
Lonigan shoved Noel away so hard he went staggering. “Ye’re in no position to bargain with me!”
Noel took a deep breath. “Then you won’t find it, ever. You can spend the rest of your life searching this island but you won’t see your gold again.”
Lonigan’s broad nostrils flared. His eyes bulged. His face turned red, then purple. With a roar, he charged, gripping Noel around the throat and driving him bodily back against the railing. “Ye lily-livered, conniving, pox-ridden scrap of vermin! I’ll teach ye to make threats against Black Lonigan. By God I will!”
Noel struggled, but his air was already choked off. The pressure on his throat mounted. Black dots swam before his eyes. He reached out blindly, choking, and felt his lungs convulse for air.
With the last bit of strength left to him, he whispered hoarsely, “Let…woman and…boy…go.”
Across the deck, Leon called, “You’ll never find it if you kill us!”
Lonigan roared again, shaking his big head like an enraged bull. But just as Noel felt the world sag out from beneath him, Lonigan released him. Noel dropped to his knees and gulped in deep lungfuls of sweet air. His throat ached so much he felt he would never talk again.
But he had to. He couldn’t trust Leon to finish making the bargain. Lady Mountleigh had to survive in order for history to remain intact. If Noel died today, his demise in this century would make no dent on events. If he lived, he would spend the rest of his life exiled in solitude on this island, so that he would not affect others. Somehow, he had to contrive it so that Leon would do the same.
But survival was by no means certain yet. Rubbing his throat, Noel looked up at Lonigan and slowly climbed to his feet. His LOC fell slightly warm on his wrist as though it was activating. He glanced at it, and saw with disappointment that it remained black and dead on his wrist. The sensation must be due to his returning circulation.
“What good is the woman to you?” Noel rasped out, his voice still hoarse. “Let them go.”
“Are ye her gallant then?” Lonigan asked in bewilderment.
“No.”
“Are ye her kinsman?”
Noel started to shake his head, then said, “I am responsible for her safety.”
Lonigan narrowed his eyes. “It’s plain to see ye’re a naive
man with little knowledge of the world. Governor Mountleigh has been in office a year, and already he’s made of himself a sore trial for the Brotherhood. He’s barred us from Port Royal. He sends those damned naval sloops out like wolf packs to hunt us down and keep us from a good living. Bah! It be time and above that the man learned a lesson. If he wants his lady and his heir returned safe and sound to his bosom, then he’ll have to meet our conditions.”
Noel didn’t blink. “Which would you rather have? Access to Port Royal, or your loot already stockpiled?”
Lonigan reached for him again. “By God, ye dog! It’s my treasure and I’ll not have ye keeping it from me!”
“But you can’t find it, remember?” Noel said. He held Lonigan’s baffled gaze a moment, then added with steel in his voice, “Let the woman and child go. Put them safely ashore with provisions, and I’ll return your treasure.”
“Ye’re mad. How can I trust ye?”
“How am I to trust you?” Noel countered. He knew Lonigan was wavering. The man stood with his powerful shoulders hunched and his head lowered.
“And what’s fer yerself out of this?” Lonigan asked finally.
Before Noel could answer, a cry came from the crow’s nest: “Sail ho!”
Lonigan rushed to the starboard railing with his spyglass. “God’s bones!” he shouted. “They’re barely a quarter mile offshore. Are ye daft to let them sneak up on us so close?”
“The sun’s goin’ down, Captain,” came the lookout’s aggrieved voice. “I couldn’t see.”
“Couldn’t see,” Lonigan fumed. “I’ll make ye think ye can’t see when I dig out yer eyeballs! What flag, damn ye?”
“British.”
“Beat to quarters!” came the cry.
The pirates snapped to action, changing instantly from a mob of hoodlums to an efficient, well-trained crew. One of the musicians pulled out a drum and began pounding on it. The pirates scurried into the rigging. Others turned the windlass and brought up the anchor.
“Dammit, faster!” Lonigan ordered. “We’re caught in harbor with our pants down. A pretty pigeon we are. Unfurl sail! Hard about!”
The other ship came at them under full canvas, closing fast with every passing minute. The Medusa turned ponderously, her sails luffing before they finally caught the wind. The brigantine headed toward the mouth of the little harbor, gliding past the half-submerged wreckage of her sister ship.
“It’s a sloop,” Natty Gumbel said. He crowded the rail beside Noel. He tugged a line taut and dallied it around a belaying pin with deft hands. “We can outgun her.”
Another hail came from the lookout. “Second ship!”
“Full sail!” Lonigan shouted. He ran to the helmsman and cursed him roundly. “Damn the course. Tate! Harley! Crowd on more sail!”
“We can’t outrun her, Captain,” the helmsman said. “We’re trapped.”
Already Noel could see the British sloop changing direction to intersect their path. She was a graceful thing, her simple lines gliding over the waves under the spread of her canvas. A puff of smoke suddenly wreathed her side. Moments later, Noel heard the faint boom of a cannon. The ball crashed harmlessly into the water more than five hundred yards off their prow. It was intended as a warning.
“Pass word to the gunner’s mate,” Lonigan said grimly.
A man scurried below. Along the sides of the Medusa, portholes opened and cannon were run out, making the lower deck rumble ominously beneath Noel’s feet.
“We dare not take on the British Navy,” the sailing master said. “Were it Dutch we faced or even the damned Frenchies, aye, then we should fight. But—”
“Where’s yer courage, man?” Lonigan retorted scathingly. “Do ye mean we should surrender to those dogs? Never! I’ll not hang from England’s gibbet.”
He whipped out his cutlass and swung it wildly to send his men scattering. “Natty!” he said and pointed at Noel. “Take that dog below and chain him where he’ll cause no mischief. I’ll deal with him later.”
“Aye,” Gumbel said. He glared at Noel with his good eye and gave Noel a shove. “On with ye.”
Reluctantly Noel obeyed. He didn’t want to be trapped below in the stinking hold. He had the unpleasant suspicion that in battle cannonballs would probably come crashing through the hull and land in his lap. He would much rather be topside, where he could see the action. But Gumbel jabbed him in the back with a pistol, and Noel climbed down the ladder.
The activity below decks was as hectic as up in the rigging. The gunnery crews were busy with measuring out gunpowder, cutting fuses, tamping in wads of cloth, and loading shot. A scrawny boy stood ready with a burning torch in his hand. At the signal he would run down the row of waiting cannon and light the fuses in rapid succession.
Noel tensed and slowed his pace. He had to try something, and an idea was coming to him.
Gumbel jabbed him in the back. “Get on! Here’s no place to be gawkin’. ”
At the end of the row, Noel gauged the distance between him and the boy with the torch. The gun crews had finished loading and were rolling the heavy weapons forward.
“Aim high,” said the gunner’s mate, squinting out a porthole and working out trajectory figures. “There’s no sayin’ we’ll wait until the range is good.”
Noel went into action. He jumped forward, then whirled on Gumbel, kicking the man’s wrist aside just as the pistol fired. The ball whined past Noel and imbedded itself in a wooden bulkhead. The torch boy ducked involuntarily and nearly set a keg of powder aflame. While the men were yelling at the boy, Noel seized him and wrested the torch from his hand.
“Get him!” yelled Gumbel.
Noel knocked Gumbel aside with his shoulder and ran down the row, lighting the fuses over the howling protests of the crews. Men scattered, and the cannon belched forth their thunder. The violent recoil of the guns was something Noel hadn’t counted on. He leapt aside just in time to avoid being crushed as a twelve-pounder rolled back on its cart and crashed into the blocks. Gumbel, who’d been reaching for him, was less lucky. The cannon knocked him down and rolled over his leg. There was a spurt of blood and Gumbel writhed, screaming.
For Noel, there was nowhere to run. The others were on him now, pummeling him to the deck that was gritty with gunpowder. The torch fell from his hand, and fire blazed down a trail of spilled powder, heading quicker than thought toward the pile of kegs.
“God have mercy!” someone yelled.
Horrified, Noel tried to get to his feet and run, but he wasn’t fast enough. No one was fast enough although some of the men reached the ladder and tried to climb it.
The explosion blew out the starboard side of the ship with a crimson and orange fireball and a mighty gush of black smoke. Debris rained down, and with a groan the ship listed heavily to the right, going down already into the clear green waters.
Knocked bodily into a bulkhead rib on the opposite side of the ship, Noel came to in a daze. Blood was dripping into his eye from a gash in his forehead. He touched the cut numbly, unable to feel any pain from it. His ears rang, and he couldn’t quite pull himself together.
“We’re sinking!” someone screamed.
“Where’s the surgeon!” shouted another man.
Groans and cries of pain rose. To Noel they sounded far, far away. He shook his head in an effort to clear it. There was something important that he needed to do. If only he could remember what it was.
A dark shape appeared in the gloom and smoke. It knelt beside Noel, who had managed to sit up.
“Hurry, bwana,” Kona said. Concerned and bleeding from numerous minor abrasions, he patted Noel’s shoulder and tugged. “You must get up. You must hurry.”
Noel climbed to his feet, managed to stay upright, and staggered to the ladder. Kona shoved him to get him started and Noel finally made it topside.
Up here, smoke boiled from the burning guts of the ship. Part of the deck was gone, leaving a jagged edge that seemed somehow unreal. The sh
ip was listing badly to that side. A shudder went through her. Screams came from everywhere.
Noel’s wits returned. He looked around and saw Leon still tied to the mast. Plucking a dagger from the slack hand of a dead man, Noel handed it to Kona. “Cut Leon free.”
Kona shook his head. “I have saved the good bwana. I will not save the bad one.”
“Cut him free!” Noel plunged into the smoke in search of Lady Mountleigh.
He found her lying on the deck with a terrified Neddie at her side. For a moment Noel thought she was dead, but she had only fainted. Little sparks had burned holes in her dress. Noel beat on the places that were smoldering, and slung her limp form over his shoulder.
“Neddie, come!” he said sharply.
He held out his hand, and Neddie took it without hesitation. The boy’s eyes were wide and vacant. He seemed to be in shock.
The survivors of the blast were climbing overboard. Two dinghies had been broken out, but they weren’t big enough to hold all the men. Fighting broke out for one, with swimmers pulling passengers out and climbing in themselves.
Noel stared at the debris-strewn water and knew he couldn’t get both the woman and child to shore. Kona joined him at the railing and looked over dubiously.
“I cannot swim good. I am too far from land.”
The sloop was coming up now. They were hailed, and Noel waved.
“I have a woman and child!” he yelled. “Can you take them aboard first?”
“Aye! Do you surrender?”
Noel snorted. “Yes, yes. Just come on before we sink!”
The fine, aristocratic tones of the British officer carried clearly across the water. “Everyone, form orderly lines. Put down your weapons. If you resist capture you will be shot.”
The pirates were too shaken to resist. Noel glanced around for Leon, but his twin wasn’t in sight. Noel faced Kona with sudden suspicion.
The African youth’s face held a stony expression. Only his eyes betrayed his despair. “I am a slave again. I will always be a slave. Have mercy and kill me now.”
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