by Perrin Briar
“Consider it issued,” Smithy said.
He turned to the family, still on their knees. He locked eyes on Bryan’s furious expression.
“Now, let me tell you what’s going to happen,” he said. “You and the boy are going to join us on our ship. You will work the deck. It will be difficult and hard work, but you will do it. Why? Because I’m doing you the favor of not bringing the ladies with us.”
Bryan breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you, thank you. I swear, you’ll never hear a word of complaint from either of us.”
“I’m not finished,” Smithy said, licking his lips. “The three of us will be the only ones who know about your ladies marooned here on this island. If they try to escape, or aren’t here to satisfy our needs whenever we make port, then you die. If you misbehave as a deckhand, they die. Am I making myself clear?”
Bryan’s world was shattered. A high point of hope followed by a precipice of despair.
“You’re a monster,” Bryan said.
“No,” Smithy said. “Just an ordinary man with ordinary needs. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take the girl first.”
“No…” Cassie said.
“No!” Zoe said. “Take me. Please. Take me first.”
“The girl needs to be broken in,” Smithy said. “I’m afraid my friends here won’t be altogether gentle with her, and I doubt they’ll wait until I’m done with both of you before insisting they take their turn.”
“Please!” Bryan said. “Don’t do this. I’m a very rich man. I can give you anything you want. Anything!”
“And where is this fortune?” Smithy said.
Bryan’s mouth was dry.
“It’s on the surface,” he said.
“The surface,” Smithy said, nodding.
“A house?” Bryan said. “A car? An airplane? Just tell me, and they’re yours.”
Smithy pursed his lips.
“I’ll take my chances with what we have here, thanks,” he said.
“No!” Bryan said.
“I’m doing you and your family a kindness,” Smithy said. “Believe me, it’s for the best.”
“No, Smithy,” a voice behind them said. “I’m afraid it’s not.”
5
SMITHY’S NECK turned slowly to peer back at the figure standing behind them. His shoulders fell with recognition. Smithy stood up.
He towered over the other figure, who was a boy, not much older than Aaron and Cassie. He wore shabby clothes, but he held himself with something approaching pride. Earl and Skinny seemed much less sure of themselves.
“We found these people here on the island,” Smithy said. “They attacked us, injuring Skinny, as you can see. We’re just taking our pound of flesh, that’s all.”
“Is that what happened,” the boy said, his inflection making it clear he didn’t really believe him, that perhaps he had seen more than Smithy thought.
“Yes,” Smithy said.
“Mm-hm,” the boy said. “The reason Skinny has his pants around his ankles will have to be explained. Otherwise it might appear the family were simply defending themselves against a trio of assailants.”
“I should get something back in exchange for the harm they did me!” Skinny said.
Smithy took a step forward, towering over the boy, who didn’t flinch.
“Stoneheart won’t hear a word about this,” Smithy said. “Or he’ll be losing a deckhand mighty soon.”
“Take your empty threats elsewhere,” the boy said. “Stoneheart will hear the truth.”
Smithy grunted in the back of his throat. It was an ugly sound. It was meant to be. He leaned over the boy to appear as threatening as possible.
“When Stoneheart’s time has passed, you’ll be mine, Jim,” Smithy said, barely a whisper.
“You’re planning a mutiny?” Jim said. “I’ll make sure to let Stoneheart know.”
Smithy gritted his teeth. He dearly, clearly, wanted to throttle Jim, but something held him back. He spoke without turning to face the others.
“Come on, boys,” Smithy said. “We’ve got some rum to deliver.”
Skinny glanced at Cassie, on her knees before him. He looked like a boy who had been denied his favorite toy at the store.
The three men left, disappearing into the foliage.
Jim was left with the family. His eyes met each of them in turn. He had a grubby face, but his eyes shone like emeralds, strong and determined. There was no way a boy of his age survived aboard a boatful of such men without learning a thing or two about manipulating others. Bryan and his family were chess pieces to be moved and controlled by the boy and anyone else who wanted to use them as leverage.
What kind of place have we come to? Bryan thought.
Jim approached Cassie first. Bryan struggled to his feet, his hands behind his back. He needn’t have concerned himself. Jim extended a hand to Cassie.
“Please, let me help you up,” he said.
Cassie looked from his proffered hand to his face and seemed to find something she trusted there. She allowed him to take her restrained hands and help her to her feet. Jim removed the bar from the handcuffs. Cassie rubbed her wrists.
“Don’t be thinking you’re safe,” Jim said, releasing Aaron’s hands. “This isn’t my decision. Only Stoneheart can make that choice, but I will help you as far as I’m able.”
“Nonetheless, thank you for helping us,” Bryan said, rubbing his own wrists.
“Can you help us?” Zoe said.
“I already have,” Jim said. “But I may have only delayed what you might have to experience at the hands of these men. Having women aboard is bad luck, but I fear it’ll be even worse luck for you. Men at sea a long time become animals. Only Stoneheart can protect you, but he is just as likely to condemn you.”
“I understand,” Bryan said.
Now he was free, Bryan wanted nothing more than to run and hide until this nightmare was over. But there was nowhere safe to hide on this island. The sky was beginning to lighten already, and soon the fog, their only protection, would disintegrate around them.
“What kind of man is this captain of yours?” Bryan said.
“Mad,” Jim said. “Quite mad. He sways between mindfulness and madness daily. It’s difficult to keep a handle on him at times.”
“And that’s what your job is?” Bryan said. “Keeping a handle on the captain?”
“It’s one of my duties,” Jim said.
“Why were the men afraid of you?” Bryan said.
“They’re not scared of anything,” Jim said, “save death and evil spirits.”
“But they were cautious with you,” Bryan said.
“I’m Stoneheart’s first mate,” Jim said. “I’m closer to him than anyone else aboard. I’ve been known to sway him with certain decisions from time to time. But we must go now. I fear Smithy will attempt to cast off without us if he can.”
Jim turned and headed toward the foliage. He stopped when he noticed the family weren’t following.
“Aren’t you coming?” he said.
The family shared anxious expressions.
“This is a bad idea,” Bryan said.
“Yep,” Cassie said. “And yet it’s the only one we’ve got.”
6
THE FOG was thinning but still present as Jim led the family back to the beach where his ship’s boat floated offshore. Jim hadn’t come to the island alone. Three men sat waiting as they approached. None of them made a comment when they saw the family, but they all darted concerned glances at the girls.
“This is Aldo, Fritz and Joshua,” Jim said. “They’re the most honest men aboard the Celeste.”
They could have been background dressing of a back alley, complete with knives and pistols. Jim smiled when he saw they’d commandeered half the rum from Smithy. It was a clever move. The ship would not leave without their full supply of rum, not even by accident.
The boat rocked beneath them as
the family climbed aboard. Zoe gripped Bryan’s arm as she lost her footing. She fell into the stern of the boat. Jim pushed off from the coast and hopped into the boat. He took a seat facing the family as his men rowed.
“You’re dressed strangely,” Jim said.
“We’re not from here,” Bryan said.
“That much is obvious from how you speak,” Jim said. “You’re not British, are you?”
“We’re American,” Bryan said.
“What’s that?” Jim said
“It’s another country,” Bryan said. “Far from Britain.”
Jim eyed Bryan uncertainly.
“I’ve sailed the seas and never heard of this ‘America’,” he said.
“That’s because it can’t be found here,” Bryan said. “It’s on the surface.”
“Surface?” Jim said.
Bryan told Jim their tale, beginning from where they’d fallen through the sinkhole on the surface and their adventure through the lost world, and how they ended up here. Jim looked skeptical, but never made a comment.
“You’re due some good luck by the sound of things,” Jim said.
“What can you tell us about Stoneheart?” Bryan said. “Is there anything we can say or do that might encourage him to let us go?”
“Let you go?” Jim said. “Unlikely. The best you can hope for is to become part of his crew.”
“I just want to protect my family,” Bryan said.
Jim nodded.
“I can understand that,” he said. “And I understand that living on the sea isn’t for everyone.”
He checked over his shoulder, checking his men. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Look, there is something you could do,” he said. “But it’s risky. You should only do it if negotiations break down.”
“What?” Bryan said.
Jim took a pistol out of his waistband. He handed it to Bryan.
“It’s not loaded,” he said. “If the situation arises, you should grab me and hold me hostage. I can’t guarantee Stoneheart will care if I die or not, but it might give him pause.”
“Why are you helping us?” Bryan said.
“Call me cursed,” Jim said. “Everyone else on board does.”
“Cursed?” Cassie said. “Cursed with what?”
“A conscience,” Jim said. “It’s a weakness aboard the Celeste. It’s gotten many a man killed over the years.”
“That’s great news,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes.
Bryan tucked the pistol in his pants, hiding it under his shirt.
“You’re a good man,” Bryan said.
“Keep it down,” Jim said, checking over his shoulder to make sure the others couldn’t hear. “If they find that out, I’ll end up joining you.”
“We heard strange noises in the sea before,” Aaron said, eying the sea with wary eyes. “Something like wild animals.”
“Monsters,” Jim said. “They live here, coming out only when the fog comes. There are stories of them growing so big they can pull whole ships under. We wouldn’t be here either if it wasn’t a matter of life and death.”
“Life and death?” Bryan said.
In response, Jim tapped a crate of rum with his foot.
“The men are tough, but everyone needs something to keep going,” Jim said. “For these boys, it’s rum.”
“Is there anything you can tell us about Stoneheart that might help?” Bryan said.
“The tales of Stoneheart are as numerous as the dimples on the high sea,” Jim said. “It’s been said he was here since the very beginning, when it’s said people first arrived in this place two hundred years ago. The legend goes there were two ships battling in heaven, pummelling one another with their cannons and tearing each other to pieces. They were both powerful warships, one held by the British, the other a strong and proud seafaring race. They battled for so long and fiercely that they churned up the water, making it turn into a whirlpool. They continued to fight as they were sucked down into the abyss, and they were both of them doomed, falling from grace, and were sunk.
“But then something miraculous happened, and they emerged back up on the surface, only it wasn’t heaven they found themselves, but in a new world. Near-drowned and half-dead, the two crews looked upon one another, both knowing they had just been spared death, and sailed their beaten ships in peace, heading in either direction. It was the only time of peace between the two. The British founded New Britain and set up towns, while the vagabonds did what they had always done, and pillaged them.
“That was when Stoneheart was born, becoming a leader amongst the thieves, leading them to victory over the British, but only at sea. On land, the British were more powerful, and they could use their farmers to make themselves stronger at sea.
“No one knows how Stoneheart is capable of living for so many years. Some say he discovered the Fountain of Youth, others that he has the ability to steal other men’s bodies, transferring himself into them. How ever he does it, he has survived this long, and he will continue to survive into the future. He is a wise and good leader, but in recent years he has become more bloodthirsty and mad, his decisions more difficult to understand, even for those of us who trust in him.”
The sun had risen and dissipated the worst of the fog, revealing a large ship. It was an old ship from the nineteenth century, with huge sails, and men high in the rigging to manipulate them. Bryan had only ever seen something like it in movies and museums.
But what put a feeling of dread in him was the sight of the flag flapping at the end of the tall mast. It grinned down at the family through its hollow eyes as if it had planned for them to come here all along, that this was all part of an elaborate trap.
The others gasped beside him, seeing just what Bryan was looking at.
It was a Jolly Roger. These people were pirates.
They should have taken their chances on the island.
7
THE SHIP’S BOAT drew alongside the larger ship, a feeder fish beside a Great White. Bryan wasn’t the only one to feel a knot form in the pit of his stomach. He knew the kind of men these were, the kind of things they were capable of. He was one man, and though Jim seemed like a good sort, as did the men rowing the boat as far as he could tell, he couldn’t shake the feeling that when push came to shove he couldn’t rely on them to have his back.
The men held a crate of rum on their shoulders and scaled the rigging with their free hands. The rest of the crew relieved them of their burden and helped pull the men on deck.
“After you,” Jim said.
Bryan climbed first. He’d be able to help Zoe and Cassie onto the deck without the deckhands having to touch them. As they scaled, Zoe read the name of the ship.
“The Celeste?” Zoe said. “The Mary Celeste?”
“Yes,” Jim said. “Why?”
Zoe’s eyes darted left to right before she shrugged.
“No reason,” she said.
Bryan helped Zoe over the side and onto the deck.
The men high in the rigging swung from rope to rope, leaping like monkeys, at home in their surroundings. Bryan felt the deck move beneath his feet, unaccustomed to unfixed surfaces. The pirates moved with an ease telling of countless hours on such roving surfaces.
The rags they wore barely covered their hard tanned bodies, their muscles thick with use, their hands rough and worn working frayed ropes. To a man they frowned under thick weatherbeaten brows. The few new clothes they wore were ill-fitting and torn along the seams. Bryan didn’t like to think where they had gotten them.
The smell was overpowering, a heady mix of unwashed bodies, sea salt, wet wood, fish, and rum. The men turned to face them. Severe injuries appeared to be the norm; many sported missing eyes and limbs, and not one of them was over the age of forty. Being a pirate was clearly a demanding occupation.
The men sized Bryan up, sniffing, poking and prying at his clothes. They tugged on them, as if wanting him to take them off and hand them over.
Jim stepped forward, a delicate action, but it had the desired effect. The men glanced at him, and then took a step back. Clearly Jim’s influence extended over the entire crew. Bryan only hoped he would have the same effect over the captain. But with a name like Stoneheart, that didn’t seem likely.
The pirates stepped aside as if someone had issued an order, creating a path that opened up, a human curtain, revealing an especially average figure. There was nothing about him to suggest he was the captain by his style. He could have passed for any of the other crew.
His dress shirt was dirtied brown with use and frayed at the cuffs. His boots, originally black, were worn to light brown from scuff marks. As he stepped closer, his boots thudded, deep and resonant. His men flinched with every step.
And then Bryan saw the man’s face.
It was a handsome face, if a little thin. It was long, his cheekbones high, his hair black and shaggy, hanging in his eyes.
His eyes.
Dark, almost pitch in tone, glared like bottomless pools. They were the eyes of a killer, a murderer, a tyrant. His eyes moved from one family member’s face to another, piercing their souls, prying into their deepest secrets.
Bryan could feel the pressure of the pistol tucked in his pants and noted Jim’s insistence at maintaining close proximity.
“This is Captain Stoneheart,” Jim said.
Bryan wasn’t sure how to address the man. Finally, he stretched out his hand.
“I’m Bryan Angelo,” he said. “This is my family. Thank you for allowing us aboard your fine ship.”
Stoneheart didn’t move a muscle. He could have been carved from wood for all the movement and emotion he projected. Only his eyes moved, or rather, one of them. It was in a constant state of motion. It rolled backward, looking up at the sky, and then disappeared altogether. It was a glass eye, painted black to match his own, only it was too small for his eye socket, and it rocked and rolled too far in either direction, looking first left, and then right, and then rolled around so it wasn’t visible, facing inside his head.
“You speak strange,” Stoneheart said.