It’s no use.
Captain Scott held off as long as he dared, waiting for the Wasp to level its cannons at the onrushing Sea Devil. When he could wait no longer, he gave the order.
“FIRE!”
The cannons boomed. One ball struck the pirate ship’s prow, beheading the wooden mermaid. The rest flew wide. The Sea Devil came on.
We’re going to be boarded, he thought. At least Aster may escape.
But that hope was dashed almost immediately.
“Captain Scott,” the first mate said. “Lookout reports that the pirates have the dory.”
“What!” said Scott. “How?”
“Harpoons, sir. They got it when Mr. Aster turned back to rescue a sailor from the sea, sir.”
“One of ours? I did not hear of a man gone overboard.”
“No, sir. It’s Bingham, sir.”
“Bingham?” Scott could not believe what he was hearing.
“Yes, sir. Lookout says the pirates threw him overboard, sir.”
“Bingham,” Scott muttered. The sailor had gone missing at the last port. Scott now understood why Black Stache had followed the Wasp.
He knew about the trunk. And now he has it.
He saw that the Sea Devil was still coming hard, pirates on the foredeck howling for blood.
He wants the Wasp, too.
“Archer!” Scott shouted.
“Sir?”
“Can you cut their halyards at this range?”
“A little closer, Cap’n, and I think I can.”
“Then do it. Bring down as many of their sails as you can.”
“Aye, sir.”
Scott turned back to his first mate.
“He means to board us,” he said, “but I mean to board him first. Tell the men to get swords and sabers and move to the stern. At my command, luff the sails. He’ll catch us more quickly than he suspects. And when he does, we board him.”
Scott knew he was taking another gamble.
I hope this one turns out better than the last.
Black Stache could not believe how well things were working out. He had the treasure, and he was about to take the Wasp, which might have outrun him had Captain Scott not chosen to turn and fight.
Idjit Englishmen, always doing what was right. “Dory’s aboard, Cap’n,” Smee informed him.
“Excellent,” said Stache, glancing back. He saw the retaken prisoner and the idjit Englishman who’d rescued him. The trunk had been hoisted onto the deck.
“TWENTY LENGTHS AND CLOSING FAST!” came the shout from the crow’s nest.
“Prepare to board!” Stache shouted, his excitement building. This was the moment a pirate lived for.
His men readied their swords, knives, and guns. Stache estimated that the two ships would come together in about five minutes. Glancing around the deck, he was seized by an impulse.
“Open the trunk!” he shouted.
“FIFTEEN LENGTHS AND CLOSING.”
“But, sir,” said Smee, “perhaps we should wait until after…”
“NOW!” Stache roared. “OPEN THE TRUNK!”
The greatest treasure ever sent to sea. Stache meant to see it now, in his moment of glory.
Two sailors fired pistols at the locks. The chains fell away. Stache saw the idjit Englishman move forward, staring intently at the trunk lid.
“What’s that look in your eye, Englishman?” Stache thundered. “You think a genie’s going to jump out and save you?”
“Something like that,” the Englishman answered, and something in his voice unsettled Stache for just a moment. As he watched, the Englishman’s hand reached inside his shirt.
“Grab his arms,” Stache shouted.
A burly sailor quickly pinned Aster’s arms behind his back.
“TEN LENGTHS!”
“Cap’n,” said Smee, “we…”
“Quiet!” said Stache, striding over to the Englishman and ripping open his shirt. A bright gold locket sparkled in the sun.
“What have we here?” said Stache. He reached for the locket, and as his fingers touched it, he felt the strangest feeling, as if…
“FIVE LENGTHS!”
“Sir!” shouted Smee. “I think they’re going to board us!”
The Englishman pulled back, drawing the locket from Stache’s grasp. Stache shook his head, as if awakening from a dream. He saw that the Wasp was less than three boat lengths away, its aft deck swarming with armed sailors.
He turned, stared for an instant into the intense green eyes of the Englishman, then leaned over to open the trunk. Time seemed to stand still as the lid slowly came up; a smile formed on Stache’s lips as he readied himself to gaze upon the greatest treasure ever sent to sea.
“WHAT?” he screamed. He looked up, his face twisted with fury. “What trickery is this, Englishman?” He grabbed Aster by the coat and dragged him around the trunk lid so he could see inside.
The trunk was filled with sand.
The Englishman gasped, snapped his head up, and looked out to sea, suddenly remembering Ammm’s message: On Molly ship…
Black Stache followed the man’s gaze. He’s as surprised as I am, he thought.
And then Stache remembered: there had been a second ship leaving port on the day he’d been watching the Wasp. It, too, had taken many trunks aboard.
“They pulled a switch, didn’t they, Englishman?”
Aster stared defiantly at the pirate.
“It’s on the other ship, isn’t it?” said Stache.
Aster’s jaw clenched, but he remained silent.
“TWO LENGTHS!”
“It seems you’ve been had, Englishman,” said Stache. “And so have I. But unlike you, I can do something about it, as soon as I have the Wasp.”
“BRACE YOURSELVES!” came the shout from above. “WE’RE GOING TO RAM!”
Stache gestured to the burly sailor. “Take the Englishman below and lock him up,” he said. “I’ll deal with him later.”
The burly sailor reached for Aster, but just as he did the prow of the Sea Devil struck the stern of the Wasp. The deck shuddered violently, and the sailor fell.
Before he could get up, Leonard Aster had leaped overboard.
Stache cursed and raced to the rail. Looking over he saw nothing at first, and then…was that the back fin of a porpoise?
There was no time to look further. An arrow whizzed overhead, and the Sea Devil’s mainsail came cascading down on Stache and his crew.
The battle had begun.
It took only a few bloody minutes for Captain Scott to understand the awful truth: his second gamble had also failed. His men fought courageously, but the pirates outnumbered them two to one. He could not stomach watching his men be slaughtered in a hopeless cause.
Despair seeping into his soul, he tied his white handkerchief to the tip of his sword and gave the signal for surrender. The flag was greeted by sullen acceptance from his brave crew, and howls of triumph from the pirates. Scott’s last, desperate hope now was that he could bargain, somehow, for the lives of his men.
But he held no hope for himself. He was the captain, and he had lost his ship.
The Wasp now belonged to Black Stache.
CHAPTER 16
BAD NEWS
MOLLY CROUCHED ON THE AFT DECK of the Never Land, watching the water, waiting. The hours had crept by with agonizing slowness. But it was almost time.
At least tonight she didn’t have to worry about the men on watch. They’d found some rum somewhere, and when Molly crept by them earlier, they’d both been flat on their backs, snoring.
Heaven help this ship if we ever face any real danger.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the welcome sight of a dorsal fin breaking the surface, followed by the sound of a cheerful chitter. Molly leaned over the stern rail and, despite her anxiety, smiled broadly as a familiar silver shape appeared.
“Hello,” said Ammm.
“My teeth are green,” replied Molly.
�
�Yes,” agreed Ammm, politely.
With the formalities concluded, Molly clicked and chirped the message she’d been practicing all day.
“Ammm see Molly father?”
“Yes.”
Thank goodness. Carefully, Molly chirped: “What news?”
Ammm hesitated, then: “Bad man have father ship.”
Molly’s heart froze. “Molly father…” She struggled to make the sounds. “Molly father…”
“In water.”
Molly could barely breathe. “Molly father…” she began, but Ammm mercifully cut her short.
“We swim Molly father,” he said. “Swim to island.”
Molly almost collapsed from relief. The other porpoises are taking father to land. That’s why Ammm came alone. But…
“Molly father message,” said Ammm.
“What message?” said Molly.
“Bad man hunt Molly ship.”
Fear stabbed at Molly. The trunk. Somehow, Black Stache knows about the trunk. Father must know as well, so he…
Ammm chittered again: “Father come. Soon.”
But would he be soon enough?
Molly took a deep breath, fighting to control her feelings of panic, to form the right sounds.
“Message father,” she said.
“What message?”
“Hurry.”
“Hurry,” repeated Ammm.
“Yes.”
And with a brief farewell chitter, Ammm was gone, leaving Molly staring at the water, wondering how long it would take her father to reach land, to find a new ship, to set out to find her…
Meanwhile, the world’s most vicious pirate is hunting us down in the fastest ship afloat.
Molly had never felt so alone in her life. If Black Stache arrived before her father did, she had no choice: she would have to deal with the situation herself. She had to. And she could not fail.
She needed an ally. Someone she could trust.
She turned from the rail, to go looking for him. As she entered the ladderway, she cast one last glance back at the sea.
Please hurry.
CHAPTER 17
THE NEXT TARGET
THE SEA DEVIL AND THE WASP, tied side by side, rolled in the dark waves as Stache’s crew, working by torchlight, finished the hard labor of moving barrels and crates from the conquering ship to the conquered one.
Belowdecks on the Wasp, Black Stache surveyed the tidy cabin that had once belonged to Captain Scott.
“A fine cabin, Mr. Smee, is it not?” he said.
“Aye, Cap’n, it is,” said Smee, thinking, and it smells much better than your old one.
“Have the prisoners been dealt with?” asked Black Stache.
“Aye, sir, as you ordered. Captain Scott and the others you wanted kept for ransom and barter are locked below. The rest will be set adrift in the Sea Devil, once we’ve moved her sails and provisions to the Wasp.”
“D’you think it’ll hurt me reputation, Smee? Allowing them to die of thirst, rather than slitting their throats?”
“No, Cap’n,” said Smee. “I think it’s a grand humanitarian gesture.”
“Well, tell our boys to hurry, before I change my mind,” said Stache. “It’s turning to daylight, and I want to get after that other ship—the one with me treasure—the . . . what’s it called again?”
“The Never Land, sir.”
“Stupid name,” said Stache.
“Yes, Cap’n.”
“I don’t much like Wasp, either.”
“No, Cap’n.”
“A wasp is an insect.”
“It is, Cap’n.”
“We’re pirates, Smee. Not insects.”
“No, Cap’n. I mean, yes, Cap’n.”
“A pirate ship needs a name that inspires fear in the heart of every sailor who hears it,” said Stache. He drummed his bony fingers thoughtfully on the desk that once belonged to Captain Scott.
Smee said, “What about the Jellyfish?”
Stache turned and stared at Smee with a look that Smee, unfortunately, mistook for encouragement.
“I mean the stinging kind,” Smee continued brightly. “I’ve seen grown men cry when they—”
“SHUT UP, YOU IDJIT,” thundered Stache, slamming the desk with his fist. He took a long, deep breath, then continued in a calm voice: “You don’t name a pirate ship the Jellyfish.”
“I just thought…”
“Shut up, Smee.”
“Yes, Cap’n.”
“Sailors will not feel fear in their hearts at the approach of the Jellyfish.”
“No, Cap’n.”
“I shall give this ship a pirate name, Smee.”
“Yes, Cap’n.”
“I shall give it the name of the most feared flag on the seven seas. The pirate flag, Smee.”
“That’s a fine name, Cap’n.”
“What is?”
“The Pirate Flag, Cap’n.”
Black Stache pressed his face into his hands.
“Smee,” he said, through splayed fingers. “You have seaweed for brains.”
“Yes, Cap’n.”
“The name of the ship will be the Jolly Roger.”
“But you just said…”
“THE JOLLY ROGER IS THE PIRATE FLAG, YOU KELP-BRAINED IDJIT.”
“Yes, Cap’n.”
“Now, get out of my sight, and send in Storey. We’ve work to do.”
Storey, who’d been waiting outside to be summoned, entered the cabin.
“Yes, Cap’n?”
“Have you found the Ladies?”
“Yes, sir. Wimple went out in a boat and got ’em back.”
“Good. We raise sail as soon as we’re done offloading the Sea Devil. We’re after the Never Land next.”
“Yes, Cap’n.”
“One of the prisoners was kind enough to tell me a few things about the Never Land,” said Stache, not bothering to mention that the officer had been staring at the point of Stache’s cutlass, an inch from his right eyeball. “He says she left port the same day the Wasp did, and she’s bound for Rundoon, same as the Wasp was. She’s a fat sea cow of a ship that can’t make better than five knots. So she’s well behind us.”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“I want you to do your figuring, and put us on a zigzag course back in her direction, twenty mile tacks ’til we spot her masts. Understand? We’ll be flying Her Majesty’s colors. She’ll sail right to us, thinking we’re the Wasp. And then she’s ours. Get to it.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” said Storey, leaving. Stache drummed his fingers on the desk for another minute, wondering if he should go up and make a few prisoners walk the plank. He was tired, but it was important to keep up appearances. He was still pondering when there was a rap on his door; it was Storey again, looking ashen-faced.
“What is it?” said Stache.
“Cap’n…it’s…I think you need to come on deck and see for yourself, Cap’n.”
Following the navigator to the deck, Stache saw it instantly: a dark roiling mass of clouds spreading across the horizon, already huge, and…growing. Growing fast.
Black Stache had spent his life at sea; he had long believed that he’d faced the worst that the sea could hurl at him, and that he had nothing more to fear.
But seeing this thing coming toward him now, Black Stache, for just a moment, was afraid.
CHAPTER 18
THE PLAN
PETER’S PLAN TO GET PAST THE GUARD named Leatherface was simple, but effective.
It involved rum. Peter was still not sure exactly what rum was, but he knew two things about it, from watching the Never Land crew.
The first was that the sailors loved to drink it, and gulped it down whenever they had any. The second was that it made them sleep. Sometimes it made them do strange things first—laugh, cry, sing, fight, talk about their mothers—but in the end, it always put them into a deep slumber, from which it seemed nothing could awaken them for hours.
Peter had also lea
rned, from his many secret food forays around the ship, that the cook kept a barrel of rum in the galley. This was one reason why the Never Land’s food was so bad: the cook spent far more time drinking rum than cooking. He guarded his rum supply from the rest of the crew by sitting on the barrel virtually all the time, day and night. But much of the time, because of the rum, he was slumbering, which presented an opportunity for a small, clever person to creep up, quietly open the barrel’s spigot, and fill a jar. And that is what Peter had done.
The other part of the plan involved the foul pot of revolting “food” that Hungry Bob brought each morning in the crockery pot. Most days the boys left it untouched, which was fine with Hungry Bob, who collected it each night and happily downed its contents, wriggling bits and all.
But not this day. This day, Peter had taken the pot and dumped the rum jar into it. Both the food and the rum smelled foul to Peter; the mixture smelled no different.
He’d waited until dusk, then carried the crockery pot to a secluded spot on the forward deck, where Alf was waiting, as they’d arranged.
“Try to hurry,” Peter said. “Hungry Bob will be coming for this soon.”
“Right, little friend,” said Alf, taking the pot and heading aft. At the ladderway, he glanced around, then ducked down the ladder and scuttled along a dim passageway, and down a second ladder.
“Who’s that?” came a gruff voice. It was Leatherface, a tall, rawboned man whose skin had been ravaged by too many years in the wind and the weather. He stood in front of the door to the hold where the trunk was kept, his hand holding a club.
“It’s me,” said Alf. “Alf.”
“Nobody’s allowed down here,” barked Leatherface. “Slank’s orders.”
“But it was Slank who sent me,” said Alf. “He sent you this here grub.” He held out the pot.
Leatherface eyed it suspiciously. “I already had me grub,” he said.
“I know, I know,” said Alf. “It’s extra rations, for the extra work you’re doing.”
Somewhere deep in Leatherface’s brain was the beginning of a thought—that it was very much unlike Slank to make thoughtful gestures to the crew. But Leatherface was not one to encourage thoughts, and, like the rest of the underfed sailors on the Never Land, his instinct was to eat whatever there was to be eaten. He leaned the club against the hold door and took the pot from Alf.
Starcatchers 01 - Peter and the Starcatchers Page 9