The Lost Prince (5 page)

“Like I said, you impressed me back there. Also, I think I can help you.”

“Help me?” Dean squinted at Gentleman Jim. “What do you care what happens to me?”

“I’ve got a bad habit of taking in strays and other lost causes. Used to be one myself.” Gentleman Jim paused. “I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong about you. Could be your life’s filled with promise and you don’t need my help. Is that it? Are things really going that well for you?”

Dean looked down at his shoes. Taking stock of his life always had a negative effect on his mood. He had heard it said that the ocean made all things possible. That the world was filled with wonders, and a man could set sail with one life and come home with another. In Dean’s experience, nothing could have been further from the truth.

“No, sir. The way things are headed, I’m not going anywhere at all.”

As long as Dean could remember, he’d been part of One-Eyed Jack’s crew, trapped in the service of the pirate king. He had been raised by pirates, which was a lot like being raised by no one. That was what Dean’s life had in it. Nothing and no one. That was all he’d ever have. His course was firmly plotted, never to change.

“Only one man on this island couldn’t benefit from a change of scenery,” Gentleman Jim reminded Dean. “Be honest with me. What have you got to lose?”

Dean felt a pang of guilt. His plan had worked. He was in. The real question was, what did Gentleman Jim have to lose? The answer was probably everything.

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know. A complete stranger who wants to help me? Sounds too good to be true.”

“It’s not. Before you decide, you should know this offer comes with a warning. If you sign aboard my ship, you’re enlisting in the pirate king’s Black Fleet, just like me, Ronan, and every other pirate out there, regardless of age. Once you’re in, you’re in for life. There’s no way out, save a trip to the great beyond. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Dean nodded. He understood all right. Not only was his name already in the pirate king’s book, but he had almost made that trip in the belly of a shark. “I understand.”

“If you want in, you better be sure. Now or never, lad. I won’t ask again.”

Dean thought it over a little more, got on his feet, and stood up straight. “You don’t have to. I’m in.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Gentleman Jim clapped his hands. “Good, then it’s settled. What’s your name?”

“Dean Seaborne.”

Gentleman Jim shook Dean’s hand. “Welcome to the
Reckless
, Dean Seaborne. I’m Jim Harper, better known as Gentleman Jim. Captain Harper to you. You’ve met my first mate, Ronan MacGuire.” Dean offered his hand to Ronan, but the first mate folded his arms and looked away.

Dean withdrew his hand with a shrug. “I guess if I’m going to be an honest thief, I’d better get started. These are yours, Ronan. You, uh … dropped them.” Dean pulled a handful of coins from his pocket and held them out in an open palm.

Ronan looked down at Dean’s hand in disbelief and pulled out his own pockets. Sure enough, they were empty. “Why you little—give me those!”

Gentleman Jim laughed as Ronan snatched the coins out of Dean’s hand and counted them twice for good measure. “You mean you actually had the nerve to pick his pocket on the way in here? After he caught you?”

Dean turned up his palms. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Hah! You’ll fit right in, Seaborne. Let’s go introduce you to
your shipmates.” Gentleman Jim led the way outside. Dean went to follow him out, but Ronan blocked the door with his arm and stared at him, looking like a volcano ready to blow.

“It was nothing personal, Ronan. What do you say? No hard feelings?”

Ronan shook his head. “Don’t get too comfortable here, Seaborne. There’s something about you.… I don’t know what it is yet, but I can tell you don’t belong. You’re not one of us. Don’t go thinking you are.”

Dean grimaced and pushed his way outside. Ronan had him pegged from the jump. He was right. Dean
didn’t
belong. It was the story of his life. Dean didn’t belong with One-Eyed Jack and the Black Fleet, and he never got to stay anywhere else long enough to belong there, either. He had no real home. No real mates. He spent all his time on the go, hopping from one foot to the next … from one
lie
to the next. This Ronan was a sharp one, but Dean wasn’t worried. This was just a job like any other. He wasn’t there to make friends, and he wasn’t staying long enough to make enemies. As soon as he found out why Gentleman Jim’s payments were coming up short, he would jump ship and be nothing but a memory.

Outside, Gentleman Jim had gathered up the crew. “On your toes now, mateys! I’ve got an announcement. We set sail with the evening tide, and when we shove off, it’ll be with a new point man. You know him as the boy who just made a monkey out of
all of you, riding around here on a plank of wood with wheels. Who knows? Maybe he can teach you a thing or two. His name is Dean Seaborne, and he’s one of us now. Let’s give him a real Pirate Youth welcome, eh?”

The crew stared at Dean in absolute silence. The only sound came from the gulls flying overhead and the waves breaking against the cliffs. Dean’s new shipmates looked at him as though they wanted to break him in half.

Gentleman Jim clapped a hand on Dean’s back. “That’s a real Pirate Youth welcome, all right. Don’t worry, lad. It takes time. They’ll warm up to you.”

Dean shook his head.
Not likely.
“What happens now, Captain? What does that mean, a new point man?”

“It means we’re gonna throw you to the sharks and see if you can swim. Think you can manage it?”

Dean’s lips formed a crooked smile. “Believe it or not, that’s how I ended up here in the first place.”

CHAPTER
5

I
t turned out Gentleman Jim was only partly kidding. As the wind pulled Dean across the water on a short wooden board, sharks were the least of his concerns. He struggled to see where he was going. The shining glow of the Caribbean’s crystal water had been stolen by the night sky and a thick fog no man’s eyes could pierce. Dean sliced blindly through the murky haze. Leather straps held his feet in place, and in his hands he held a small crossbar with long lines tied at each end. The lines ran up to a miniature sail that pulled him along faster than any ship could go—faster than any fish, for that matter! His new shipmates in the Pirate Youth had called the contraption a kiteboard. No one had taught Dean how to ride it, but his wheelboard experience had helped him
pick it up rather quickly. Under different circumstances, he would have actually found kiteboarding to be great fun, even if he did feel as if his arms got ripped of their sockets every time the wind changed direction.

Dean rode up over swells of seawater like ramps, launching himself into the air. Once he was airborne, the sail lifted him even farther. The wind pulled him twenty, sometimes thirty feet up into the sky and just as far across the water. He twisted and turned as he went. When he wasn’t sailing high above the ocean, he was skidding across its face like a fisherman who had hooked a whale but was too stubborn to let go of his line.

All the while Dean raced across the waves, spinning and thrashing, he paid close attention to a length of rope that trailed behind him. The rope was hooked onto a harness on his waist that tethered him to the
Reckless.
He was careful not to run out of line as he flipped from wave to wave. The fog was thicker than paint, but with a little persistence, he spotted the soft glow of lanterns advancing through the mist. Ringing bells told him a ship was up ahead. Dean turned his sail into the wind and came about, heading for a large square-rigged merchant vessel christened the
Santa Clara.

He sped toward the ship, caught a wave, and jumped. A strong updraft carried him high into the air, and he let the wind carry him as far as it could. When he finally began his descent, he waited until the last possible moment and then let go of his sail, which
flew off and disappeared into the fog. Dean continued to fall, faster now, bearing down on the
Santa Clara
and its unsuspecting crew. He pulled his legs up to clear the ship’s gunwale as he closed in and just barely made it over the side. He touched down with a thud, and his board skidded across the deck’s wooden planes with rapid bumps. Sailors’ heads spun around from every direction as they let out shouts of shock, alarm, and general confusion. Dean sprang up onto the quarterdeck, snatching a cutlass from the side of a slow-footed seaman as he ran. Quick as lightning, he unhooked the thick rope tied to his harness and lashed it around the mainmast, thus connecting the
Santa Clara
to the
Reckless.
Once he was certain his knot wouldn’t come undone, he started reeling in the slack.

“Who the devil are you?” a voice called out. Dean raised his eyes toward the stern end of the quarterdeck, where a man stood in a cabin door. He wore a bright red coat with fine gold trim, and buttons made of polished brass. Oily black hair fell down around his shoulders in tight curls. He had a thin mustache and the air of a man who thought a great deal of himself. Judging by his formal dress and general tone of righteous indignation, Dean concluded he was the ship’s captain. “Well? Speak, boy!” the captain demanded.

Dean put up a finger, instructing the man to wait as he hauled in the rope that tied the two ships together. The captain stood dumbfounded as the boy went on with his work. Rope piled up
at Dean’s feet until at last he pulled and the line did not give. He gave it two good tugs to signal his mates, and dropped the line on the deck. “There.” He clapped his hands together and turned to face the simmering captain. “You, sir. You asked me a question just now. I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention. What was it you wanted to know?”

The captain scowled at Dean. “I want this boy in irons. Now.”

Two able-bodied sailors stepped forward to take hold of Dean. They were tough, weather-beaten men with leathery hides and fists the size of horseshoe crabs. Dean grabbed the cutlass he’d stolen as he came on board and cut through the air like a swashbuckler. “I give you fair warning. Any man who lays a hand on me will leave it at my feet.”

The two sailors paused a moment, then shared a laugh at Dean’s expense. They drew out their own blades and closed in on him. Dean stood his ground, waiting until they came close enough to strike. Once they did, he chose the man on the right and lunged forward with his sword, pushing him back. The sailor on the left swung his blade at Dean, but he ducked beneath its edge with time to spare. The sword sailed harmlessly over his head and lodged itself firmly in the mast. As the man tried to pry it loose, Dean delivered a kick to his stomach that knocked the man clean off the quarterdeck. Dean spun and pulled the sword free himself, then turned back toward his other attacker. Swinging both swords, Dean cut a wide swash through the air as he went at
the man. The sailor backpedaled and tripped on the tangled line Dean had just pulled on board. He fell hard on his backside, and Dean pressed his advantage.

“Do you yield?” The tip of his cutlass was dangerously close to the man’s throat.

The sailor nodded several times and scurried back like a frightened rat. Dean smiled as he shrank away. The man had taken him for an easy mark. Dean was nothing of the sort. You don’t last very long as a pirate spy if you can’t hold your own in a fight.

“What’s the meaning of this?” the captain demanded. “Who do you think you are, boy?”

Dean cleared his throat and recited the lines that Ronan had made him memorize. “My name is not important. What is important is the message I carry. As of this moment, your ship and its cargo are at the mercy of the pirate Gentleman Jim Harper. You might not believe it, but today is your lucky day. Gentleman Jim will gladly give quarter to any and all who lay down their arms and surrender. You can run up a white flag now, or wait until Gentleman Jim gets here, but it’s faster and more civilized if you surrender before he arrives. My captain is a busy man, and he appreciates your cooperation. I can assure you he will treat you every bit as well as you treat him.”