Peter and the Starcatchers (14 page)

“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 pul ed 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 stil 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 fil ed with sand.

The Englishman gasped, snapped his head up, and looked out to sea, suddenly remembering Ammm’s message:
On Molly ship…

Black Stache fol owed 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 pul ed 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’l 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 fel .

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 sul en 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.

M
OLLY 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 Mol y 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, fol owed by the sound of a cheerful chitter. Mol y leaned over the stern rail and, despite her anxiety, smiled broadly as a familiar silver shape appeared.

“Hel o,” said Ammm.

“My teeth are green,” replied Mol y.

“Yes,” agreed Ammm, politely.

With the formalities concluded, Mol y clicked and chirped the message she’d been practicing al day.

“Ammm see Mol y father?”

“Yes.”

Thank goodness.
Careful y, Mol y chirped: “What news?”

Ammm hesitated, then: “Bad man have father ship.”

Mol y’s heart froze. “Mol y father…” She struggled to make the sounds. “Mol y father…”

“In water.”

Mol y could barely breathe. “Mol y father…” she began, but Ammm merciful y cut her short.

“We swim Mol y father,” he said. “Swim to island.”

Mol y almost col apsed from relief.
The other porpoises are taking father to land. That’s why Ammm came alone. But…

“Mol y father message,” said Ammm.

“What message?” said Mol y.

“Bad man hunt Mol y ship.”

Fear stabbed at Mol y.
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?

Mol y 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 farewel chitter, Ammm was gone, leaving Mol y 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.

Mol y 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 al y. 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.

T
HE SEA DEVIL AND THE WASP, tied side by side, roled 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 wil be set adrift in the
Sea Devil,
once we’ve moved her sails and provisions to the
Wasp.
”

“D’you think it’l hurt me reputation, Smee? Al owing them to die of thirst, rather than slitting their throats?”

“No, Cap’n,” said Smee. “I think it’s a grand humanitarian gesture.”

“Wel , tel 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 cal ed 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 thoughtful y 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 wil not feel fear in their hearts at the approach of the
Jellyfish.
”

“No, Cap’n.”

“I shal give this ship a
pirate
name, Smee.”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

“I shal 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 wil 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 tel 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 eyebal . “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 wel 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’l be flying Her Majesty’s colors.

She’l 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 stil 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.”

Fol owing 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.