Isle of Fire (44 page)

On board the
Perdition's Gate
, already sailing with all speed across the Atlantic, Cat had fallen from his cot to the cell floor. The ship rolled on heavy swells, and the wind had made the passage rougher than usual. But Cat had not woken up. He merely stirred in his sleep as he dreamed. He was back in Dominica, and Thorne was leading him down that familiar, dreadful set of stairs below ground. Cat watched again as his father unscrewed the spiked head of his bleeding stick, transforming it into a flail weapon even more fierce and destructive than a cat-o'-nine-tails. Cat watched with revulsion as Thorne approached the prisoners chained to the ceiling and floor. This time Cat heard the blows each time his father swung. He heard the screams, the moaning agonies, and then the silence.

Then Thorne handed the weapon to Cat and gestured toward the next prisoner. This captive was still very alert, and he looked up at Cat and formed the word
no
with his mouth. Cat looked at the head of the flail weapon, saw the blood glistening. Then he looked at his own hands and saw the smeared blood from the handle. He heard his father's thick, scraping voice:
“Get on with it! Hit him! DO IT!!”

Cat felt himself lift his arm. He could feel the weight of the weapon's head dangling behind his shoulder. And then he swung the bleeding stick. He swung it with all his might and struck his target with deadly accuracy. The weapon's head stuck hard into the oaken beam that ran along the ceiling. Cat turned to his father and said,
“I am not you!”

Bartholomew Thorne's face contorted. He said,
“You are not
worthy of my name.”
Then he drew back his fist and sent a crushing blow into Cat's jaw.

Cat suddenly woke. His nose had been bleeding from the fall, and his blood left a puddle on the cell floor. He stood up, wiping his nose with the back of his arm. He looked down at that puddle of blood and was reminded suddenly of the nails from the Isle of Swords, the Nails of Christ. And he remembered something Father Brun had told him.
“You know, the Holy Scriptures say, ‘Old things
are passed away; behold, all things are become new.'”

What was it that the Brethren said to pray? Cat couldn't remember.
Something in Latin
, he thought.
But I don't know Latin!
They kneeled, that was it. But sometimes they stood. Other times they linked arms and looked toward the sky. Cat shook his head and decided it didn't matter. He'd just do it. And for the first time in his life, Cat tried speaking to God. Right there in his cell in the bottom of a ship full of enemies sailing on a violent sea . . . but none of that mattered anymore. And when he was finished, Cat knew just what he needed to do.

It hadn't taken long to liberate the
Oxford
. It was a small crew consisting of several Raukar warriors and only a few of Thorne's men from the crew of the
Talon
. When the others had fallen, Jules picked up a man named Tarber by the neck with one hand, held him at eye level, and said, “CHOOSE.” Tarber promptly surrendered.

Back on board the
Bruce
, Ross had a few questions for Mr. Tarber. “Where is Commodore Blake? How many of your men are still on shore in London? Where has the rest of your fleet gone? Where are Captain Thorne and the Merchant?” Tarber did not answer, so Ross said, “Apparently, Mister Tarber is doing his best imitation of a clam.

Red Eye?”

“Aye, sir?”

“Feel like cleaning your teeth again?”

“That I do, sir,” said Red Eye as he slid a dagger from his boot. He grabbed Tarber by the shoulder and said, “Come with me.”

Red Eye's skillful interrogation techniques had answered all but one of Ross's questions. There were close to three hundred warriors still on the shore. Thorne and the Merchant had taken more than half of the Raukar fleet to the Caribbean to conquer the Brethren on their island stronghold at Saba. But Tarber wasn't sure what became of Commodore Blake. The last he knew, Blake and his wife were still prisoners on the
Raven's Revenge
.

“Declan!” called Stede from the prow. “Yer not going to b' believing this, but there b' a little bald fellow in a rowboat over here. And he b' asking for ya by name.” Stede looked back over the rail. “There b' another man with him . . . I think it's the commodore.”

The crew raced over and worked together to carefully haul the rowboat up. Blake had been shot in the shoulder, and there was a lot of bleeding. He was not conscious, but he was breathing normally. Jules carried him below decks to the infirmary where Nubby would look after him.

Back on the deck, Hopper pleaded, “Please save him, sirs. He's a good man, he is.”

“Commodore Blake is in the best hands—er, hand—possible with Nubby, our ship's doctor.” Ross realized suddenly that Hopper was very young. “What is your name?” Ross asked. “And how did you come to be in the care of the commodore?”

Hopper told his tale, and during it, a hush fell over the crew. They could not believe a boy of maybe ten years had done so much. “And, sir,” said Hopper, “they still have Lady Dolphin. I had to decide. Lord, please, I don't want anything to happen to her. Please go after them, won't you?”

“We can't leave the Londoners with all these Raukar soldiers milling about,” said Ross.

“Let MacCready and a few of the Scottish lads stay here,” suggested Red Eye.

“Yes,” said Ross. “They're more than capable.” Ross thought for a minute. “We'll need to cobble together a crew for the
Oxford
. We can't leave that kind of firepower behind. Perhaps Mister Hack would care to command.”

“I think he just might,” said Red Eye.

“Good.” Ross nodded. “Thorne and his fleet are nearly a day ahead of us. But we will pursue. Get word to Cutlass Jack and Anne. We've a long journey ahead.”

29
SIEGE OF THE CITADEL

T
horne had been forced to change course due to a massive storm front that was building to his south. He'd already lost three of the lighter Raukar ships just on the fringes of it. He feared it might be a hurricane and might disrupt his attack on the Brethren. But the storm had been churning in his mind. He had gone to see Lady Dolphin almost every one of their ten-day journey across the Atlantic. He had tried every approach he could imagine. He'd brought her good food. He'd threatened her. But no matter what he tried, she still would not speak.

But the more he looked upon her, the more certain he became that she was his own daughter. Heather had been near the end of her pregnancy when the fire took her away, but Thorne had always assumed that the child had died. Dolphin looked so much like Heather it pained Thorne to look upon her. And yet he couldn't stay away from Dolphin. Making matters worse, Thorne found that he could barely stand to be in his own quarters. He felt oppressive guilt whenever he looked at the portrait of his dead wife.
She is dead
, he told himself.
No matter the voices. Heather is dead.
Still he felt as if she stared at him, accusing. All these matters had left Thorne with no sleep for days on end.

Thorne checked his instruments. They were just a few hours from Saba. Then he went back to pacing the deck of his ship.

Even with nightfall looming, Brother DiMarco could see the storm building in the east. He had rung the Citadel's heavy bell, and all the Brethren stirred like ants in the courtyards and in the fields. Terrible storms were not uncommon for the island of Saba, so the Brethren had gone to great lengths to make their fortress as sturdy as possible. But still, when a tempest arose, there was much to do to prepare.

And that is why Father Henry and Father Hoyt, who usually manned the Citadel's two battlement towers, did not at first see the approach of the dark ships.

“FIRE!!” Thorne yelled, and Brandir unleashed the first salvo of eldregn canisters. The Raukar fleet did the same. But to their dismay, the wind took the canisters and pushed them all hard to the west. Only a third of the initial volley exploded over the Citadel's walls or beyond. Still, that was destructive enough for such a small target. The front gatehouse went up in a wall of flame. The eldregn did not consume the stone, but anything not made of stone ignited and burned.