Peter and the Starcatchers (13 page)

Scott felt the eyes of his men, awaiting his next command.

Nobody understands how hard it is, being captain.

Smee knelt next to the prisoner’s cage and fumbled with a heavy ring of keys, nervous under Stache’s glare.

“Hurry it up!” Stache said, glancing up to check the
Wasp
and then the dory, now abeam of his ship and slipping behind.

The prisoner, not knowing what was happening, watched apprehensively as Smee unlocked the padlock and opened the cage door.

Stache pushed Smee away, grabbed the trembling prisoner by his uniform coat, and again pul ed him close.

“You’ve been most helpful,” said Stache, his voice oily.

“Th—thank you, sir,” said the prisoner, daring to hope that his cooperation had won him freedom from the cramped cage.

“Yes,” continued Stache, “very helpful. So helpful, in fact, that I’ve decided to let you go.”

“Thank you, sir!” said the prisoner. “Th—NO PLEASE SIR NO…”

His gratitude turned to horror as Stache, in a startling display of speed and power, dragged him swiftly to the starboard rail and hurled him overboard.

“Cap’n!” shouted Smee, shocked.

“Yes, Mr. Smee?” said Stache, leaning over to watch as the prisoner thrashed, gasping, to the surface.

“But he was…” sputtered Smee. “I mean, I thought he had information that…”

“He gave us what we needed,” said Stache. “And now he is providing another service.”

Smee looked puzzled.

“Behold,” said Stache. “As a British seaman, he knows how to swim, at least a little.”

Smee remained puzzled.

“And as a British seaman in distress,” continued Stache, “he cannot be abandoned by the gentleman in the dory, now can he? A proper Englishman would never leave another Englishman to drown. Behold our gentleman, Smee.”

Stache gestured toward the dory; Smee saw that the gentleman was reaching for his oars.

Stache said, “Have the harpooners make ready at the stern.”

Smee relayed the order, noting as he did that the dory was now turning toward the drowning sailor.

His chapped lips broke into a broad smile of pleasure, both at the cleverness of his captain, and the foolishness of proper Englishmen.

Leonard Aster had been studying the trunk, wondering how he could get past its padlocks without tools or weapons, when he heard the scream from the
Sea Devil,
and saw the man—a man in the uniform of a British seaman—hurled overboard. He saw the man struggle to the surface, thrashing desperately to stay afloat, but clearly unable to last much longer.

With no hesitation, Aster seized the oars. He understood that the pirates had thrown the seaman overboard in the expectation that he would do exactly this. But trunk or no trunk, Leonard Aster was not going to sit by and watch an Englishman drown. He clung to the hope that, as he approached the
Sea Devil,
she would turn to him, thus exposing herself to the
Wasp’
s cannon.

But to his disappointment, the
Sea Devil
did not turn.

He's clever,
he thought.
He intends to slow my escape, while he wins the Wasp
.
Then he’ll come for me. For the trunk.

Aster glanced back, and saw he was close to the sailor, stil afloat, but just barely.

I can still do it,
Aster thought.
With a bit of luck, I can save this man, and still be far enough away that the pirates won’t be able to find this tiny boat.

The thrashing sailor slipped beneath the surface. Leonard pul ed harder on his oars.

Scott saw now that Stache had no intention of tacking to chase the dory.

He’s a clever one. He’s coming for my ship first.

Scott made a decision, and gave an order, instantly repeated by the first mate.

“Hard to starboard!”

The helmsman spun the wheel and the obedient ship quickly heeled, masts creaking, lines becoming taut. The sails went slack, shifted, then fil ed anew with wind. The
Sea
Devil
was now coming up fast on his starboard side. He had a better angle on her now—better, though far from ideal. But there was no more time; in moments the
Sea Devil
would be on them.

“FIRE!”

The cannons roared, and Scott’s heart sank as he saw the bal s fly over the
Sea Devil.
The cannoneers had aimed almost level, but the heeling of the ship had pointed the barrels high.

It had been gamble, tacking and firing, and now Scott was paying. The
Wasp
had lost speed; the
Sea Devil,
undamaged, was bearing down. There was barely time for another round.

“LEVEL HER OUT!” Scott roared.
This time, we must not miss.

Leonard Aster heard cannonfire, then saw a bal, then two others, splash near him, as he shoved an oar deep into the water at the spot where he’d seen the sailor go under. He fought to hold the oar down, moving it side to side…

Come on…Take it…

He’d almost given up when he felt a tug. Straining, he slowly pul ed the oar toward him, then grabbed the sailor’s arm and heaved him up with an effort that almost overturned the dory, which rode dangerously low in the water now from the weight of two men and the trunk. The man coughed and spat seawater, but seemed to be al right.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, stil coughing.

“It’s quite al right,” said Aster.

“That madman…” began the sailor, but he was interrupted by two loud reports. Aster spun and saw twin dark lines coming from the stern of the
Sea Devil
and streaking directly
toward the dory.

“DOWN!” he shouted, yanking the sailor with him to the cramped bottom.

The two harpoons, wel aimed and shot with gunpowder, hit almost simultaneously, their barbed heads thunking into the transom. Ten-foot chains connected the harpoon shafts to thick rope leading back to the ship. In a moment Aster felt a tug as the lines tightened. The dory began to move backward; the pirates were using winches to drag it to the
Sea Devil.

Black Stache is having it both ways,
Aster thought, with grudging admiration.
He’s going after the trunk
AND
the
Wasp.

He lunged to the stern and tried to work the harpoons loose, but they were lodged too firmly in the transom. Desperately, he turned back and shouted to the sailor.

“Help me untie the trunk!”

“What’s that?” The man was stil groggy from near-drowning.

“Untie the trunk!” Leonard repeated, struggling with a thick knot. “And hurry!”

The sailor managed to sit up and reach for a knot on the other side of the trunk. After a moment he shook his head. “Wet line,” he coughed. “This knot’s not coming out until the line dries.”

Aster yanked desperately at the rope. He looked back; the dory was almost to the
Sea Devil
now, the pirate ship’s stern looming overhead. At last he managed to loosen the knot. He got his hands under the trunk and tried to lift it, hoping to work it free from the rope on the other side. He could barely budge it.

Why is it so heavy?
He tried to move it again, but could not. He looked back again and saw that he could touch the stem of the
Sea Devil;
pirates were clambering down rope ladders to grab the dory. He gave one last desperate heave on the trunk, but it barely moved.

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 bal 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 fol owed the
Wasp.

He knew about the trunk. And now he has it.

He saw that the
Sea Devil
was stil 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. Tel the men to get swords and sabers and move to the stern. At my command, luff the sails. He’l 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 wel 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.

“Excel ent,” 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 fel 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?”