Across The Sea (13 page)

They had stolen this fishing
boat soon after the Glide had left the docks of Grand Marine. The
two pirates had forced the small crew off their boat by holding one
of them hostage with a sword held up to his throat. The rest of the
crew had no choice but to watch from the docks as their boat sailed
away with their friend held prisoner aboard. Leonard had warned
that if any of the crew told anyone what was taking place, the
prisoner would be killed. Once the pirates had been at a fair
distance from Grand Marine, Captain Leonard had Ratwell throw their
hostage overboard.

* * *

Lily readjusted her sail to
catch more wind. To her horror, the fishing boat loomed over
her.

Ratwell jumped down onto Lily’s
deck and drew his sword. “Bring her up alive,” Captain Leonard
ordered.

Ratwell looked to his right,
then left. There was no one on deck. He got down on his hands and
knees and looked into the small cabin, which was more of a dwarfish
storage space than a cabin. He snatched a folded blanket and pulled
it out. The cabin was empty.

“Where is she?” Leonard
shouted.

“She’s not here,” Ratwell
answered.

“We don’t have time for this.
We have an appointment to keep. She must be hidden in some secret
compartment.”

Following Captain Leonard’s
orders, Ratwell released their anchor onto the small sailboat’s
starboard side, pushing the vessel down and making it fill up with
water. He and Captain Leonard then dropped a chest belonging to the
fishermen to add weight and watched as the tiny craft went down,
sinking deep into the ocean.

They waited for the child to
swim up to the water’s surface, but she never emerged.

“She got trapped,” Captain
Leonard deduced. “She’s drowned.”

* * *

Bodin and Francis sailed for
days. Bodin did not speak again. Every morning, Francis, remaining
tethered to the chain, stepped out from the cabin to the cockpit
where he found dried biscuits on an open cloth and a chalice of
water. He ate and drank the tasteless food, never asking Bodin
permission. He just assumed the breakfast was laid out for him. The
rest of the day was spent staring at the water, or falling back to
sleep.

One day, as Francis dozed,
sitting in the cockpit, his head jerked up from sleep. Before him
he saw buildings. He jumped to his feet, and then felt dizzy from
jumping up.

Buildings were standing
straight up from the water. Francis looked on in disbelief. He
rubbed his black eyes and looked again. He saw now that these were
not buildings but ships. Tall ships. Hundreds. All tied together.
In the middle of nowhere.

In the middle of the sea.

Bodin, standing, steered toward
this floating metropolis.

Francis glanced up at the high
ship closest to them. The blood coursing through his veins stopped.
On deck stood many men staring down at them – and all wore bright
red cloaks.

Ropes were thrown down and
Bodin tied the small boat to the ship. He then removed the chain
from Francis’ wrists and both climbed a rope ladder to the higher
deck.

Aboard the tall ship, Francis
was surrounded by men in red cloaks. Pushing through the pirates
was a tanned, well-groomed man wearing a dark green uniform. He
glimpsed down at Francis, and then looked up at Bodin.

“Where is the Red Mist?” he
asked.

“The British sank her,” Bodin
replied.

“What?”

Francis could hear from the
other man’s voice that he had a slight accent.

“They sank her,” Bodin
repeated, “and took most of her crew prisoner. It was the Whisper
and the Glide. I need to speak with His Majesty.”

His Majesty?
Francis
thought, confused.
The King of England?

“Come this way,” the tanned man
said, stepping backward. “Quickly.”

The man glanced at some of the
cloaked men behind Francis and ordered, “Take the boy.”

“No, Martino,” Bodin
interjected. “The boy stays with me.”

Martino put his hand up to
signal his men to stop.

“Very well,” he replied,
turning to move onward. “His Majesty awaits.”

Bodin and Francis followed.

“Is my brother here?” Francis
asked, toward Martino.

Bodin clutched Francis’ arm and
yanked up, hurting him. “You’re not to say a word here,” he groused
into his ear.

Francis looked up at Bodin’s
beady, translucent eyes. “Do we understand each other?” Bodin
warned.

“Is my brother here?” Francis
repeated.

Martino ignored him.

“Your brother is still very
far,” Bodin cautioned. “His safety, however, resides in your hands.
Speak again and your brother will hurt.”

Francis stared right back into
Bodin’s eyes, incensed. How dare he threaten his brother. He wished
he could harm Bodin then. Bodin pulled him along by the arm, and a
trio of cloaked men followed.

They walked onto a plank,
crossing over to another ship. Men worked all around them. Some
washed the deck, others moved crates, and others worked repairs.
They walked several planks like this. Francis noticed that not all
the men they encountered wore the red cloaks. Some groupings wore
the same dark green uniform as Martino, and these men tended to be
better groomed.

When they reached what seemed
to Francis to be the centre of the city of ships, Martino stopped
at a door guarded by four dark green uniformed men. Francis could
tell that these guards were not mere pirates. Not only was their
hair neatly cut and their faces clean-shaven, but these men stood
erect, emanating an air of regalness. These guards were most likely
the King’s own, whoever this King was. These were royal guards.

Martino walked toward the door
but Bodin stayed behind, letting go of Francis’ arm. One of the
guards opened the door for Martino and he entered. The door was
shut behind him.

Bodin and Francis waited. After
a few minutes, Martino stepped back out.

“His Majesty will see you now,”
Martino said to Bodin. “He is most anxious to speak with you.
Especially regarding Captain Leonard’s disappearance.”

Bodin stepped forward and
Francis followed. They walked past Martino and the royal guards,
through the doorway. The door was shut behind them and in dim light
they stepped down a narrow stairway. At the bottom, they entered a
mutely lit hallway and continued along. Francis looked up to see
lanterns with tiny flames burning along the two walls. At the end
of the hallway, they faced two more royal guards who stood at
another doorway. The guards stepped aside as one of them opened the
door for them.

Light blasted from the room
before them, making Francis squint. Inside, the room was spacious
and open, its walls gold and its carpets a lush wine. Francis felt
like he had just entered an exotic, royal palace.

He noticed a lean figure
sitting at the far end. It was a man and he wore an iridescent,
gold crown. The man’s head was completely shaved, and from where
Francis was standing, it looked like some sort of black design had
been tattooed onto his bald scalp but his crown covered most of the
image. The man sat in an oversized chair which was set on a raised
floor. Francis focused on the man’s face. The man appeared to be
older than Francis’ father; perhaps the same age as Bodin.

Whoever this man is
,
Francis thought to himself,
he’s not the King of
England.

Bodin kneeled, bringing a heavy
hand down onto Francis’ shoulder, making him kneel as well. As
Bodin bowed his head, Francis decided to do the same.

Bodin stood, so Francis
followed suit.

“How did the British find you?”
asked the man in the crown. He had a deep voice with a slight
accent; the same accent as Martino’s.

“There was a traitor aboard the
Red Mist,” Bodin answered. “A man by the name of Keeb. He was
informing Captain Strick of the HMS Glide.”

“The Admiral’s son?”

“Yes, your Majesty. Not of the
same warrior stock, but just as annoying.”

“How much did this spy
know?”

“He knew where our source is
hidden.”

Source
, Francis thought
to himself.
Does he mean Michael?

“Did he know of the Dream
Finder?” the crowned man asked.

“He did not, your Majesty.”

The Dream Finder? What’s a Dream
Finder?

“They were always getting
closer to the Treasure,” said the man in the crown. “They have
always known of the islands.”

Bodin said nothing.

“Our time has come,” the man
continued. “We have never been this strong.”

What does all this mean?
Francis thought.
All these ships. Their time has come… It can
only mean one thing. They’re getting ready for battle. With all
these ships, they’re about to start a war.

“It is time England is forced
face to face with the newfound might of the Kingdom of Spain,” said
the man in the crown. “They will not be ready for me. Not this
time.”

Spain? England’s long time
enemy. This man
, Francis realized,
is the King of
Spain.

“Before my Armada sails,” the
King continued, “you must set out at once for the Dream Finder. A
top crew with men from the Brotherhood has been assembled for
you.”

“I’ll sail my own vessel,”
Bodin said.

“No one has touched her, just
as you requested. Will you journey through the Stream Blade?”

“I’ll need to, your Majesty. To
make up the time.”

“Will she survive?”

“She’ll have to try.”

* * *

As the dark seeped through,
pushing the sun down, both Bodin and Francis walked across many
planks and ships until they reached a much smaller and lower vessel
than the others which surrounded it. At once Francis noticed that
no name was inscribed on her.

Bodin jumped down onto her
deck. “Come down,” he ordered, without looking up.

Francis jumped and landed on
his feet.

“Get inside,” Bodin instructed,
as he unlocked the door, “and go to sleep.”

“Why would a king align himself
with pirates?” Francis asked.

Bodin placed his brass ring of
keys back into his robes. “He needed more ships,” he answered.

“Spain is no match for
England,” Francis stated.

“Perhaps. But change is on the
way.” Bodin lifted open the door. “Go to bed.”

Francis went down into the
cabin which was much larger than the cabin on the boat they had
arrived on. At the bottom of the six steps was a small kitchen
which had a counter and a few cupboards. Ahead was a narrow
corridor with three doors. Francis explored and learned that each
door led into a diminutive, unlit room. Only one room had a bed.
Francis gathered that this was Bodin’s bed. He entered and saw that
in the corner farthest from the bed was a hammock, hanging from the
two corner walls. Francis moved toward it and lay down inside.

An idea came to his head. This
was Bodin’s ship. What if there was something on this vessel which
gave Francis clues as to what had happened to his brother? Perhaps
there was something here that could assure him that his brother was
safe; maybe even where his brother was. Francis placed his feet
back on the floor and skimmed the room.
What should I be looking
for? Maybe notes or books or maps that he’s stored.

He saw a candle and flint on a
small table by the wall. He grabbed the flint and lit the candle.
He turned around. Below the straw mattress, in the dark, wooden
frame of Bodin’s bed, Francis saw the outline of a closed drawer
and a keyhole.

Francis remembered what Lily
had shown him. He whipped his belt from his breeches and jammed the
buckle’s pin into the lock. He jiggled it around like Lily had
done. Nothing happened. He kept trying, but he was making so much
noise.
Bodin will hear this for sure.

Someone stepped into the room
behind him.

Francis dropped the belt to the
floor.

“What are you doing?” It was
Bodin’s voice. The door shut.

Francis bent down to grasp his
belt. “Just getting my belt,” he replied. “I dropped it.”

“Well,” Bodin said, moving
further in as he tilt his head forward so he could fit under the
low ceiling. “You found the right chamber, but that’s my bed. Yours
is in the corner.”

Francis headed back toward the
hammock.

Bodin blew out the candle and
in the semi-darkness, got ready for bed. Francis slipped off his
own shoes and lay down. He stared up in the dark.
What is Bodin
hiding under that bed? And the King of Spain… why is he here in the
middle of an ocean? Doesn’t he have admirals and captains to do his
work this far away from his Kingdom?

* * *

Hours later, as the diffuse
morning sun hovered low, a fishing boat neared the Spanish Armada.
Standing at the bow was Captain Leonard. Steering was Ratwell. And
well hidden underneath a net on deck was another figure.

This smaller person watched,
wide-eyed, at the mammoth collection of tall ships. She too
shivered once she laid witness to all the men in the bright red
cloaks.

A few days earlier, when
Captain Leonard and Ratwell had reached her sailboat and found no
one aboard, Lily had been in the water, having had already dived
overboard. Attached to a rope which she had tied around her waist
was a jar of dried biscuits and a bottle of water. Both had been
stored inside the cabin of her sailboat in case of an emergency.
She swam under the fishing boat’s hull and came up on the other
side, at the stern. She reached up to the boat’s low gunwale,
climbed to the deck and slipped inside a sail storage compartment.
Captain Leonard never saw her as he continued to stare down at her
sailboat.

That evening, Lily began her
pattern of changing her hiding place at regular intervals. On this
present day, Lily had been hidden underneath the net for hours. She
watched as the Armada came into view. Once they were closer, Lily
would attempt to jump ship onto a larger vessel – one with many
hiding places – and begin to investigate if Francis was aboard this
conglomeration.