The Voyage of the Sea Wolf (14 page)

And then the night burst open with noise, the terrible hiss of cannonballs roaring through the air, the sharp crackle of gunfire, the screams of men in agony. Flashes of blinding light lit up the dark clouds.

On the
Sea Wolf
there was a stunned silence followed by commotion.

“What's happenin'?”

“That's cannon fire.”

“Cod's breath, they be's attackin' our boats! 'Tis not us attackin' them.”

“They waited for us. They knowed all along that we was here,” the quartermaster shouted. “They're blowin' our boats out o' the water.”

“Turn our ship about,” Finnegan shouted. “We cannot leave them to perish.”

The quartermaster stood as if undecided.

“What's keepin' ye, Quarter? Can't ye hear what's occurrin'?”

It was as though the quartermaster came awake then. Had he been taking time to consider... to consider maybe leaving them, taking the
Sea Wolf
and fleeing?

“Hurry!” I screamed. “Hurry!”

“We'll not be able to get close,” he said at last. “Ye heard Cap'n. The sea be's too shallow.”

“We can get closer than here,” someone yelled. No need for quiet now. All was disorder.

There was the creak of the rope as the anchor was pulled. The men rushed to raise the sails. Slowly the
Sea Wolf
came about.

I could barely breathe. William! In the midst of that? My William? Hurt? Shot? Blown apart?

I ran to the bow, leaning over to lie against the bowsprit, hastening her on. Hurry! Hurry! It was all I could do to stop myself from jumping into the sea and swimming to where the guns blasted. But what could I do, even if I made it that far? I made a promise to Neptune. Let William live and I will do whatever you ask of me. Even give him up.

But not that. Please, not that.

The pandemonium, the boom of musket and roar of cannon, seemed to tear the sky. I looked up. Unharmed, the cloud still hung above the
Sea Wolf
.

Slowly, slowly our bowsprit rounded the point. Behind me was a shouted command. “This is far as we can go! Drop anchor.”

The ship shuddered to a stop.

Now I could see through the murk of gun smoke, but I could not bear to see. Someone wailed and I think it was me.

On the dark sea two of the longboats lay, torn apart, ripped from stem to stern. Bodies were strewn around them, some motionless, some swimming or struggling to reach the one boat that remained and was drifting away from them.

Cannonballs slammed the water. The noses of guns sprouted from the underbrush behind the
Isabella
. I knew immediately what had happened. They had spotted the
Sea Wolf
earlier, moved their cannon into cover and waited for us to attack the way a mongoose lay in wait for a snake. Small-arms fire splattered, like deadly rain, around the men in the water. There were screams, moans loud enough to be heard, voices raised in panic.

Oh where was William? Was he one of those, floating facedown, or was he that one, missing a leg, floating in a pool of oily water.

I snatched the spyglass from the quartermaster's hand, ignoring his order to hand it back, pushing him away when he tried to grab it.

Where is that golden hair?

Please, let me find him among all the others.

I could not see him.

And then I did.

It was not the gold of his hair that helped me spot him because his hair was dark with seawater and perhaps blood, I could not tell. It was my heart that led me to him, that found him for me among all the other struggling bodies.

He was on his stomach but moving, one arm flailing, the other dragging at his side.

“William,” I shouted and even as I called his name he slipped under the water.

Without another thought I climbed onto the railing, aware of the shouts of the crew, of the quartermaster screaming, “What are ye doin,' ye heedless girl,” aware of his voice fading as I jumped and the sea swallowed me, dragging me down and down and down.

The sea was cold, so cold.

Something was pulling at me, trying to keep me down, some creature, but it was not Davy Jones, it was my green pantaloons, filled with water. I wanted to kick them off but the movement was too difficult.

My chest was ready to explode.

My ears thumped.

I knew I was drowning.

But I wasn't. I was up, up into the blessed air, taking deep gulps of it, feeling it burn my chest, my body sinking a little, coming back.

Around me were feeble shouts, voices calling for help.
Shots dimpled the water. The whine of them was like some strange insect. I saw Puce and made to touch him and saw that he was dead, his eyes still open and staring.

William, oh William! Don't die. I am here.

I tried to recreate where I had seen him when I searched from the deck. Over that way, over to the side. He had been making for the empty boat.

And then I saw him but he seemed so far away, across bodies, across broken pieces of the longboats, across the churned-up sea.

I took hold of a piece of planking and tried to lie across it but it was small and sank under me.

I found it again, held it in front of me and began to kick.

Hold on, William! I am coming!

I tried to strike out but the water felt cushiony, like a feather bed inviting me to rest, to allow it to comfort me. My strength was going. An oar floated ahead of me but I never seemed to reach it. I should just let go.

Someone was splashing beside me. A hand grabbed my arm.

I had a surge of energy. This person was holding on to me and he was going to pull me under. “Stop it!” I hissed. “Stop it!”

Then I heard his mumbled words.

“Keep movin',” he spluttered. It was Frenchy, whose green pantaloons I was wearing.

Then I saw William.

I tried to free myself from Frenchy, plunging toward my love. Frenchy let go of me, grabbed William with one hand, and struggled with the other to reach the gunwale of the floating boat.

I had renewed hope and with it a little of my strength returned.

I held William's head above water, lunged toward the boat and caught hold of the gunwale, hanging on to it, hanging on to William. Was he still alive? I could not tell.

Frenchy was behind us, taking William's weight.

I heaved and Frenchy heaved and we grunted and pushed, William a sodden weight between us. He was in the boat.

I tried to climb in after him but I was too tired and worn and Frenchy caught my legs in the water-heavy pantaloons and raised me up to tumble over beside William.

Now Frenchy was trying to pull himself in and I made myself crawl and reach over and grab the neck of his canvas shirt and haul him up.

The three of us lay like wet sacks of grain in the bottom of the boat.

“William,” I whispered and I forced myself up to crawl to him. “He's full of water,” I said. “Frenchy, help me turn him over.”

Between us we rolled him onto his stomach.

Water spewed from his mouth. He was coughing, and my heart rejoiced. He was alive! Relief warmed me through the chill of my dripping clothes.

He turned his head. “Catherine!”

“Be still, my love. You are hurt. Try not to move.”

Frenchy lifted William's limp arm. “ 'Tis his shoulder. I don't think it be's broke,” he said. “But 'tis pulled out o' place.”

“Catherine? How come ye... William's voice was weak.

“I came after you. Do not worry about that now.”

The gunfire was less. The cannon roar had ceased. There was a dangerous, nerve-racking quietness in the sea around us. Bodies floated, dark shapes in the water.

“We must check,” I said. “Some may still be alive.”

“I think them that is are makin' for that spit o' land yonder. The one we come around. Cap'n be's safe,” Frenchy said. “I see her, standin' there on the shore.”

I looked where he pointed and saw the shadows of the men, some already on the strip of sand, some still struggling toward it. I saw the captain, taller and more upright than any of them. And beside her I saw a small figure,
childlike. Sebastian? I blinked, the better to clear my eyes from the stinging of the salt. Yes. The captain and Sebastian.

It gladdened me to see Sebastian, safe from the guns and the sea. And Captain Moriarity? Yes, I would not have wished her to perish. Had it not been for her love of William we might have been comrades, the both of us daughters of sea captains. But she wanted William. She fought for him. Could I blame her?

“They'll head for the point where the
Sea Wolf
lies,” Frenchy said.

I nodded. “But we must look if there are others in need of our help.”

There were only three oars in the oarlocks.

“I saw one, floating,” I said. “I still see it. If we can paddle over there I can reach it.”

I fished it out of the water.

Frenchy and I took the oars, telling William that a one-armed rower would be more hindrance than help.

“You would be pullin' us around in circles,” Frenchy said. “Sit ye back.”

We rowed among the floating bodies. One, who at first appeared to be dead, reached weakly for the oar we held out to him but as we pulled on it he let go and fell back into the water. When we stretched out to grab him
we could see that he had used his last effort and had no life left in him. He was Flanagan who was of Ireland and would never see it again. We saw Ronan. He was alive still. We dragged him in with us and he sprawled at our feet, gulping in air.

Half-hearted gunfire splashed around us. One bullet tore splinters from the side of our boat.

We threaded between bodies and debris, calling out, touching. We found none other to save.

“No use lookin' more,” Frenchy said. “We have to row ourselves out of range.”

We leaned on the oars and I closed my eyes and silently prayed for the souls of the dead. I opened them when William said, “Look at the rat! 'Tis a giant one. It looks like it came off the
Sea Wolf
. I never saw one as big or as black.”

“Witch,” I whispered but neither William or Frenchy or Ronan seemed to hear.

I watched the rat swim for the shore where the
Isabella
lay. I told myself it was just a rat. Nothing more. Going for a change of ship now that its job on the
Sea Wolf
was done. HER job?

“The
Isabella
be's tired o' the fightin',” William said. “They knows they won and their treasure is safe.”

I knelt beside him. “Are you in pain?”

“ 'Tis not much.” He smiled and even now, even in this horror of a night, that smile made everything better. “Thank ye for coming for me, Catherine.”

“I would always come for you,” I said and lightly kissed his salt-caked lips.

“Frenchy?” I touched his arm. “Frenchy? We thank you for what you did this night.”

“Aye.”

How strange, I thought. I wore his trousers, I saw him and heard his name spoken, but I never knew him. Now he had helped save us. He was a pirate who I'd thought cared for nothing but gold and treasure. But in him was some measure of honor.

“Frenchy,” I said, “you could row yourself across and join your old crew, if you have a mind to. Captain Moriarity would be glad to have you back. Though William and I would be obliged if you helped us to shore first. We want to escape, if that's not too strong a word.”

I turned to look once again at the far-off shadow shape of the captain and Sebastian. Had we escaped? Would she let us—let William—go?

Then I remembered her face when she spoke of the
Sea Wolf
, of her joy and pride in her ship. She would never forsake it.

“I understand, Mistress Catherine. I'll not be goin'
back neither,” Frenchy said. “Me time wi' the
Sea Wolf
is past. I'm an adventure-seekin' man and there're other adventures ahead. I'll tell ye true, I could use a change o' captain, too. Don't ye be worryin' about Ronan. I've seen men that's out o' their heads afore, and they've come back. I'll see to him.”

“It's good of you,” I said.

Frenchy's grin showed his small white teeth. “We be's maties, Ronan an' me. Ye've heard o' honor among pirates? There's not too much o' it but there's some.”

I leaned over and touched Ronan's arm. “Ronan? Frenchy's going to look after you.”

He did not answer or move, but perhaps he heard.

The three of us stared about us at the heaving water and the dead that floated on it.

“Sebastian saw all this before it transpired,” I whispered. “He warned the captain.”

Frenchy shrugged. “ 'Twould have been a struggle between her superstition and her greed. And her duty to her crew,” he added.

“Yes.”

I sighed, then bent down and wrung the water out of my pantaloons and the tails of my shirt.

“Is that yer flute?” William asked.

“Aye,” I ran my fingers across it where I had thrust it,
tight in the waist of my trousers.

“I fear I lost yer mother's petticoat.” William coughed a gurgly cough. “Half the Caribbean is still inside of me,” he said, wiping his mouth. “I'm sorry about the petticoat.”

“ 'Tis nothing,” I said, although it was. “You can buy me another, just like it.”

His gaze made me tremble.

“It's a hard pull to shore,” he told Frenchy. “I'm sorry I'm of no use to ye.”

“Rest,” I said. “Frenchy and I can do it.”

“Cap'n showed me the charts for hereabouts,” William told us. “The land is an island, but a big 'un. There will be game and water and fruit.” He laid his hand over mine, wincing at the pain as he moved. “ 'Twill not be like Pox Island, me love. There be's a settlement on the other side and we'll make for that. Ships'll come. Ships to take us home. Will you and Ronan stay wi' us?”