For now, he watched the men lower one of the cutters and row toward the quay. He waited until they were but a small dot in the water before going to his quarters. Surely there was a book there to help him pass the time.
A LITTLE over half an hour later, while enjoying a book about ancient civilizations, Brett suddenly heard a loud thud from the upper deck. He sat up on the bed, alert to any possible danger, but when he heard no further sound, he went back to his book.
Only to hear the same noise again.
He frowned. It sounded suspiciously like a body hitting the hard wooden floor. But there hadn’t been any other sounds—no shouts, no cries for help, no typical noises from a fight.
Brett put the book aside and rose from the bed, then quietly exited the cabin and moved to the upper deck. His first glance showed the ship to be deserted; not even the five sentries could be seen. But something told him he was not alone.
Reaching for his pistol, he walked to the bridge to get a better view of the vessel. And his blood froze in his veins. He could clearly see the bodies of his shipmates lying dead or unconscious, hidden behind the cannons. And spread throughout the deck was a group of five or six men he had never seen before, all of them aiming their guns at him.
One of the men left his cover and walked over to the middle of the deck, looking up at Brett. He was tall and well built, probably in his midfifties. His long brown hair flowed past his shoulders, while his dark eyes seemed to see straight through Brett. A gruesome-looking scar crossed his left cheek from the eye to the lips. He was dressed all in black, from the shirt to the tight pants and knee-high boots, all the way to the feathered hat.
“Mr. Campbell, I presume?” he asked. “Please, be so kind as to place your pistol on the deck.”
Brett obeyed, his eyes never straying from the man, obviously the leader of the small group of intruders. “Who are you?”
“Me? I am Captain Blackburn. And you, Mr. Campbell, are my prisoner.”
DEVON GLARED at Elijah. “Well?”
“I can’t find Jasper anywhere, Devon. I searched the whole town, and nothing,” Elijah said. “I don’t understand. He said he would wait for us.”
“Think he sold the map to that Captain Blackburn you talked about?” Cody asked.
Devon shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Jasper told us the map was ours, and he would not go back on his word. He even told us we could pay him only fifteen gold coins instead of the twenty I offered.”
“Maybe he is hiding,” Elijah suggested.
“From what?” Devon asked, frustrated. “He said he would stall Blackburn until we got back. There would be no reason for him to go into hiding until the map was sold.”
“Unless Blackburn got tired of waiting for Jasper to make up his mind. Especially if he knew we were the other possible buyer. He has lost quite a few ships to us,” Elijah said.
“So, now what?” Cody asked with a frown.
“Let’s go to the tavern, have a word with the owner. He is a friend of Jasper’s. Maybe he knows something.”
“HOW DO you know my name?” Brett asked as he was taken to Devon’s cabin and pushed into a chair by two of Blackburn’s men.
“Through a… let’s call it a mutual friend,” Blackburn said with a smile.
Brett frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, allow me to explain. About three weeks ago, I got word someone named Jasper was looking for me in Tortuga. I sent my second-in-command to meet with him and was informed about a certain map. I’m sure you are aware of all this?” he half questioned. When Brett nodded, he proceeded, “I was perfectly happy to wait until Mr. Jasper had decided if he should sell the map to me, when, to my surprise, I began to hear rumors of a second buyer. And none other than Devon Hall, the infamous Phantom, a man who has cost me more than you can imagine.”
“And I’m sure if Jasper had decided to not sell the map to you, you would have let him be,” Brett said sarcastically.
Blackburn laughed. “Actually, no. I intended to get that map one way or another, but as long as he would not try to sell it to anyone else…. He told my second-in-command the map was well hidden and would take some time to retrieve. He never mentioned anything about a second buyer. So last week, I had my men search for him, torture him until he told them where to find the map, then kill him. Slowly.”
“I still don’t see what this has got to do with me,” Brett said with a scowl.
“I am getting around to that, Mr. Campbell, patience. Mr. Jasper had suffered a somewhat painful demise, but now I had the map. So I went to meet with my associate, the mutual friend I mentioned earlier. We have been working together for years. He gives me information about certain ships carrying valuables, I attack the vessels, we split the spoils. There is nothing more beautiful than a relationship based on greed,” he added with a laugh. “But where was I? Oh, yes. I showed him the map, and we realized its instructions were in French. But not all was lost. My associate knew you spoke French and where to find you.”
“So you were going to attack the Courage,” Brett realized, relieved Devon had been the one to do it. Perry and his crew would have perished at the hands of this brigand. “But how does your… associate know I speak French? And why go to all this trouble? It would not be difficult to find someone on the islands to translate the map.”
Blackburn chuckled. “Getting someone else in on this secret was a risk neither I nor my associate was willing to take. Too many things could go wrong. But mainly, my dear boy, because my associate is your Uncle Rupert.” He laughed outright as Brett gasped, suddenly feeling faint. “And he does not just want the map translated—he wants you dead. Now imagine our surprise when Captain Perry and his crewmen showed up in Port Royal, on foot, and told Rupert you had joined forces with Hall. I thought your uncle would explode, he became so furious.”
“So you decided to attack Hall’s ship?”
“Not really, no. When we realized you two were together, we knew Hall would be coming to Tortuga for the map. So I set sail immediately and arrived just a little behind you. I had no real plan to capture you. Maybe wait until you went to town, ambush you when you went searching for Mr. Jasper…. Hall saved me the trouble when he sent his whole crew ashore and left you behind with only five men to watch over you. They are all dead, by the way.”
“Now what?”
“Now I am going to leave you alone to translate the map. And I advise you to do it. There are a lot of things more painful than death. And I know every single one.” He placed the map, a sheet of paper, ink, and a pen on the table. “You can start right away. I’ll be back in half an hour to see how you are doing. It should not take you long. It is only a couple of lines.”
Brett watched Blackburn and his men leave the cabin, heard a key rattling in the door, and realized they were locking him inside. He looked down at the map. Blackburn was right; the French was easy to translate. A few minutes would be enough for him to write everything down.
Not that he was going to do it. He had every intention of escaping.
He folded the map and placed it inside his shirt, taking care so it wouldn’t fall out. If his plan worked, the map would get wet, but since it was drawn on some kind of animal skin, he didn’t foresee it getting too damaged. The hide had definitely seen better days, and the instructions hadn’t faded over time, so he would just have to risk it.
He went to the door and looked through the keyhole. The key was not there, and there was no one guarding his temporary prison.
He grinned wolfishly. “Amateurs,” he muttered.
After pulling off a boot, he turned it upside down and shook it until a small piece of wire fell out. During his many years accompanying his mother through her escapes in Europe, such a small piece of equipment had come in handy. Especially if they happened to get caught during one of his mother’s schemes. There was no lock he couldn’t pick, given enough time.
Brett pulled on his boot again, then turned his attention to
the door and tackled the lock with gusto. It took him a while; the wire was too thin and the lock was obviously new, but he finally did it. There would be nothing stopping him now.
Chapter III
“WHAT DO you mean Jasper is dead?” Devon growled at the tavern owner.
The man cowered behind the counter, nodding frantically. “It is true, I swear. I went to his house last week and found him. He was tortured to death. The place was completely wrecked.”
“Any idea who did it?” Cody asked.
The man looked around nervously. “Not for certain, no. But there are rumors. I heard it was Captain Blackburn.”
“Goddamn it!” Devon snapped. “He has the map for sure.”
“What map?” the man asked curiously.
“Never you mind. Come on, let’s go back to the ship. We have been gone long enough.”
BRETT REACHED the upper deck easily. Looking around, he could see only two of Blackburn’s men; the others were probably somewhere on the lower decks with the captain. No doubt looking for anything they could take with them when they left.
He was about to jump overboard when a sudden shout startled him. “You there! Stop!”
Brett did not obey this time. He rushed to the side of the ship closest to the quay and jumped over the rail. His whole body was shuddering as he impacted the cold water. He surfaced gasping for air, taking enough deep breaths to regain his balance, then began to swim as rapidly as he could.
He heard Blackburn cursing him from up above but did not stop, not even when the shooting started and the bullets began to fly around him. A bullet hit him in the right arm with enough force to drag him under the water, but he came back up fighting and kept going. Blackburn would not win. His uncle would not defeat him yet again.
DEVON AND the others were boarding the cutter when the sound of guns firing reached their ears. Momentarily confused, Devon suddenly realized where the noise was coming from.
“It’s coming from the Horse,” Cody shouted, practically dropping into his seat and grabbing the oars.
“Let’s go,” Devon ordered, and they began to row with all their might.
“Someone’s in the water,” Elijah yelled. “It’s Brett! He’s coming our way!”
They kept going until they were close to Brett, who, having seen them, swam straight for the boat. Elijah and Devon helped him climb into the cutter.
“You are hurt,” Devon whispered worriedly, allowing Brett’s soaked frame to lean back against his chest.
“Not… seriously,” Brett panted, letting Elijah tie a piece of cloth on the still-bleeding wound.
“Who is that, Brett?” Cody asked.
“Blackburn…,” Brett huffed, still out of breath.
The others exchanged a worried glance.
“Captain Blackburn?” Elijah asked.
“Yes….”
“What did he want?” Devon growled angrily.
“Me,” Brett replied softly, his forehead resting against Devon’s throat, his whole weight resting entirely on Devon.
“ARE YOU sure we are safe here?” Devon asked, looking around the inside of the run-down church.
“Yes,” Elijah replied. “Tortuga hasn’t had a priest for some time. No one will come here.”
“Good. Cody, go look for the rest of the crew. Tell them not to return to the ship. Explain what happened. And tell them to meet us here tonight at midnight. Elijah, search for something you can use to bandage Brett’s arm.”
The others nodded, and Cody rushed out of the abandoned church with a parting wave. Devon turned to Brett, who was sitting quietly in one of the pews.
“How are you doing?” he asked softly.
“I am well, Devon,” Brett said, giving him a weak smile.
“He is,” Elijah said, carrying a small pot filled with fresh water, a bottle of whisky, and a few pieces of linen to use as a bandage. “The bullet merely grazed him, and the wound has stopped bleeding. Once it is properly cleaned, there shouldn’t be any problems.”
Devon nodded and allowed himself to relax for the first time since seeing those men shooting at Brett from the ship. Blackburn would pay dearly—for taking the Flying Horse, killing his men, and especially for hurting Brett. He began pacing the expanse of the church, impatient to take some kind of action but knowing he would have to wait.
Devon watched as Elijah cleaned Brett’s wound with the water, then used the whisky as a disinfectant, apologizing when Brett hissed sharply. That done, Elijah wrapped the wound and patted Brett gently on the shoulder.
“All done. I’ll have another look at it tonight, just to make sure it is not infected.”
Cody burst through the large wooden doors, looking a little out of breath.
“I’m back. Everyone knows what happened,” he said. “They will be ready at midnight.”
“What are we going to do at midnight?” Brett asked Devon with a knowing grin.
“Get our ship back,” Devon said angrily. “I’m not letting that degenerate keep the Flying Horse. That ship is mine,” he snarled, then looked down at Brett. “Now, what did you mean when you said Blackburn was here for you?”
Instead of answering, Brett removed something from within his shirt. “I believe this is what you came here for,” he said, handing it to Devon.
Devon accepted the object, unfolded it, and looked at the crude drawing on the animal skin. He blinked as he recognized what he held in his hands.
“Brett, how did you manage to end up with Jasper’s map in your possession?” he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Blackburn asked me to translate it, since it is in French and both he and his associate are unfamiliar with the language.”
“Associate?” Cody said.
“My uncle,” Brett sighed tiredly. “Apparently they have been working together for years. My uncle provides information on ships carrying valuable cargo, and Blackburn attacks them. Jasper made a terrible mistake when he contacted Blackburn about that map. When he heard you were also looking to buy it, Blackburn sent his men to kill Jasper, after torturing him until he revealed the location of the map. Blackburn then met with my uncle, probably to discuss how to go about such a venture, and found the map was in a foreign language.”
“Your uncle does not speak French?” Cody asked.
Brett snorted. “My uncle, speak another language? My uncle believes England should rule the world and all other nations should bow to the British Empire. They should be the ones to learn English, not the other way around.”
“I get the idea,” Devon told him. “And, of course, you speak French?”
“Yes. My mother and I spent a few years living in France, and my uncle is aware of that. Blackburn was going to attack the Courage in order to get me back, but you were faster.”
“Why didn’t your uncle just pardon you?” Elijah asked with a frown.
Brett shrugged. “I didn’t ask. But I believe a pardon takes some time to arrange, months I think. And I’m guessing they were afraid you would somehow get ahead of them and find the treasure first. Not to mention, my uncle knew I would never help them out of my own will, even after being liberated. Plus, the Courage would be out at sea for at least six more months. Even with the pardon, they could not wait that long for me to return.”
“How did Blackburn know you were staying aboard the Horse?” Devon asked.
“He didn’t. From what I understood, he was with my uncle when Captain Perry arrived at Port Royal. They realized I was with you, and now that you were back, you would obviously come for the map. Blackburn set sail right after us and followed us here. He is probably anchored on the other side of the cape. He watched the crew come ashore, saw you leave, then realized I had stayed behind, so he tried his luck. He killed the others and tried to force me into translating the map.”
“And did you?” Cody asked with a grin.
Brett chuckled. “No. I stole it instead,” he said, making the others laugh as well.
; When the laughter had died down, Devon looked at his friends. “It is after midday. We need to find something to eat. Cody, Elijah, see to it. We are going to spend the afternoon here, maybe rest for a few hours. There will be no sleep for us tonight. By this time tomorrow, I want to be back on board the Horse and on our way to the treasure island.”
“Island?” Cody said, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Yes. I can’t understand the words on the map, but the drawing represents a group of small islands close by. One of them is marked with a cross. We should find McKenzie’s hoard there.” Devon looked at Brett, who nodded his agreement. “It should not take us more than a day to reach it. Providing Blackburn did not do anything to our ship.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “And Lord help him if he did. He will regret it for the rest of his short, miserable life.”
IT WAS already dark outside when Brett woke from his afternoon rest. His arm throbbed a little but nothing that would lead his attention astray. He rose from the pew where he had been lying, noting the others were still asleep.
He walked closer to the altar, his mind wandering over the past months. How much his life had changed since his chance meeting with Devon Hall nearly four months earlier. The pirate had stormed into his life and turned everything upside down, changing his peaceful—if not always pleasant—life into a never-ending adventure. And what was even more amazing, Brett was loving every minute of it. Even after having been whipped, imprisoned, sent to the galleys, threatened by bloodthirsty pirates, and shot at, he wouldn’t change a thing if it meant not having met Devon.
Brett shook his head ruefully. He had been right before; he was insane. And apparently getting worse, for now he was one of Hall’s men, a pirate himself, on the way to a treasure hunt with a ruthless villain on their trail.
Changing Tides Page 6