Isle of Fire (47 page)

“Captain Ross!” yelled Jacques. “Dolphin, Red Eye, Jules, and Hopper are safely aboard.”

“Yes!” Ross slapped Stede on the back.

Stede did not join in the merriment. “Declan,” he said, “we b' having a bit of a problem, mon. Thorne must know what we done. He and the whole Raukar fleet b' after us now.”

“The Merchant as well!” yelled Jacques. “That ship is moving up fast!”

In the flickering illumination of the lightning, Ross saw all the Raukar warships headed their way. Even with the wind kicking up, there was no chance they could outrun them all.
Wind
.

“I have an idea,” Ross said.

“Ya worry me when ya say that, mon,” said Stede. “I don't mind telling ya.”

“Sail into the storm,” Ross said.

“What?”

“Stede, I want you to sail into the hurricane.”

Stede looked from Ross to St. Pierre, to Hack and Slash. “Declan, have ya gone mad? The tempest will tear the ship apart!”

“No, it won't,” said Ross. “We sail into the outskirts of the storm . . . stay away from the eye.”

St. Pierre's eyes suddenly opened wide. “Ah, magnifique!” he shouted. “It will work! Mon capitaine is crazy . . . crazy like a fox, or perhaps . . . like a wolf. Ha-ha! Let's do it!”

Cat saw the
Bruce
's sudden turn, heading north into the storm, and all hope of trying his plan vanished like sea spray in a stiff wind. Sailing into any severe storm was taking a great risk, but attempting to endure a hurricane was nothing short of suicidal.

“The
Bruce
. . . they've seen us!” the Merchant yelled. “Go after him!”

“Into the storm?” Cat objected.

“My ship has endured worse,” said the Merchant, a dangerous edge to his voice. He drew his dagger. “Follow him, or someone else can take the wheel.”

“Since you put it that way,” Cat said, turning the wheel. And suddenly, his plan came back to life. The
Constantine
was right behind them. He'd never have a better chance. He just hoped Anne would continue to close.

Cat turned the wheel sharply. The Merchant, Guinness, and Lambec stumbled sideways. Then, using the ship's wheel for leverage, Cat launched a sharp backward kick into Mr. Guinness's stomach. The big man doubled over. Cat dodged a lethal dagger swipe from the Merchant and ducked under Lambec's powerful slash. Then he grabbed Guinness's sword, stepped up on the man's prone back, and leaped to the rigging on the mainmast. He clambered quickly out of everyone's reach and raced to the horizontal spars. Then Cat slashed the ropes holding the main sail. The great white expanse of material flapped in the wind but no longer propelled the ship. The
Perdition's Gate
slowed markedly, but Cat wasn't finished. With several of the Merchant's men climbing after him on the rig ging and pistol shots zinging past his ear, Cat continued up to the next horizontal spar. Then he slashed the topsails, and they, too, flapped uselessly in the wind. Deprived of two of its biggest sails, the
Perdition's Gate
lost its lead on the
Constantine
. In fact, the other ship was coming so hard and so fast that it was in danger of crashing into the Merchant's vessel.

That's what Cat was counting on. He continued to climb until he stood precariously on the highest spar and clutched the top of the mast. His foot slipped once, but he recovered. The fierce hurricane winds threatened to blow him off at any second, and the pelting rain made it so that he could barely see. “Come on, Anne!!” he yelled, but the wind carried his cry away.

“What is the Merchant doing?!” Anne cried out. She spun the wheel, but she saw the
Perdition's Gate
growing huge in front of them. It seemed to be turning right into their path and slowing rapidly all at the same time.

“Turn, Anne!” bellowed Father Brun. “TURN!!”

“I'm trying!” Anne saw the massive hull of the Merchant's ship. She saw the dark holes of the cannon muzzles.
If they fire
, she thought, and then she said, “If they fire . . . what am I thinking? FIRE STARBOARD CANNONS!!”

Brother Dmitri and the other gunners lit their fuses. The bow of the
Constantine
cleared the enemy ship by a few feet, and as they passed, seven cannons fired—all from the
Constantine
. At such close range, every cannonball burrowed destructively into the flesh of the
Perdition's Gate
. One even blasted out of the other side. The barque's stern was ruined and began to collapse in on itself. Still, the Merchant fired back, but it was too late. One shot connected. It smashed into a cannon bay, ruined a cannon, and scared the daylights out of Brother Javier . . . but did very little damage.

“Anne, look!” Father Brun pointed high up to where the tops of the two ship's mainmasts passed to within thirty feet of each other. Anne saw it. Someone was high on the Merchant's mainmast. He suddenly leaped out and fell. His dark silhouette hung in front of the clouds for several breathless moments. He landed awkwardly in the weblike rigging of the
Constantine
, but could not grasp it. He rolled once, scrabbled for a handhold, rolled again toward the edge. With a last great effort, this man snagged the bottom of the rigging and held on.

Her attention divided between the Merchant's foundering ship and the man in the rigging, Anne steered the
Constantine
into better position. “Fire!” she yelled. And again, her cannons came to life. The damage this time was fatal. A gaping rent had opened on the stern of the
Perdition's Gate
, and it began to take on water. Then it began to sink.

Anne turned her attention to the acrobatic man in the rigging. He had made his way to one of the long ropes and now began to slide down it to the main deck. Brother Dmitri had his staff ready when the man landed. Anne gave the wheel to Brother Keegan. She drew her cutlass, leaped off the quarterdeck, and ran across the main deck.

The man hit the deck awkwardly and fell onto his back. “Well, I guess he's no threat to anyone,” said Brother Dmitri.

But Anne dropped her sword and ran to him. “Cat!” she cried, taking him into her arms. His matted blond head fell against her shoulder. His eyelids flickered and closed. Anne couldn't tell if he was breathing.

“I hope you don't mind me dropping in,” he whispered. Then she kissed him, and it was the first time anyone on board the
Constantine
had seen a captain kiss a quartermaster.

Brother Keegan called down from the quarterdeck. “One of you two want to come take the wheel? The
Bruce
, the
Raven's Revenge,
and the
Oxford
are all sailing deeper into the hurricane, and I don't really know what I'm doing.”

“Can you stand?” Anne asked.

“Yes,” Cat replied. She helped him to his feet, and they walked arm in arm to the quarterdeck ladder. Suddenly, the sky lit up with orange light. They looked out to sea and saw a gout of flame rise up from the water where the Merchant's ship had gone under. They also saw at least a dozen Raukar warships right behind the
Constantine
and closing fast.

“I'll take the wheel!” Cat and Anne said simultaneously.

“Tell you what,” said Cat. “You take the wheel, and I'll just yell at you a lot.”

“Deal,” said Anne.

“Them b' coming, Declan!” bellowed Stede.

“Good,” said Ross. “That's just what I wanted.”

“Ya want to b' sailing into some treacherous storm, all the while we b' chased by a fleet of angry Viking warriors and a murderous madman who want nothing better than to skin ya alive?”

“Yeah,” said Ross. “That about sums it up.”

The
Robert Bruce
, the
Oxford
, and the
Constantine
had now passed under the outer canopy of the hurricane, and it was like entering a different world. The wind shrieked and snapped at the sails. The rain felt like pellets of rock, and lightning flashed incessantly overhead. But most perilous of all were the mounting swells that rose up suddenly out of the sea and threatened to capsize any ship whose captain was unskilled or unwary. Ross was neither.

“It's like being in the crosscurrents again!” yelled Ross, referring to the intensely rough sea barrier that surrounded the Isle of Swords. “JULES!! Get down to the swinging bowsprit—Hack and Slash will need your muscle!”

“Aye, sir!” The massive sailor slip-slided his way to the front of the ship. Ross was glad to have a man with such brute strength.

St. Pierre suddenly appeared at Ross's elbow. “Mon capitaine, may I show you something?”

“Jacques, now isn't the time,” he replied. “We're in the midst of chaos with dozens of ships right behind us!”

“Those pesky ships are why I have come. Ha-ha!” St. Pierre cackled. “Allow me to introduce my newest invention!” Jacques stepped out of the way, revealing a square crate resting on a small raft of planks. A very long string slithered out of a crack in the top of the crate and coiled on the deck next to it.

Ross squinted. “What does it do?”

“It explodes, of course!” Jacques laughed maniacally. “The fuse is waterproof, you see. This little bomb will float along and hopefully go BOOM just as an enemy ship goes by. Do I have your permission to launch them?”

“How many have you made?” Ross asked.

“Not enough, I am guessing,” replied the Frenchman. “Fifty, maybe.”

Ross scratched absently at his sideburns. St. Pierre's weapons would work better at close quarters. In the open sea, even fifty such weapons could miss entirely. Still, it was better than nothing. “Fire away!” he said. As soon as Jacques was gone, Ross turned to Stede and said, “I know we'll lose some of our distance, but sail east a bit . . . allow Saint Pierre to spread his floating bombs.”

“Aye, Declan,” Stede replied.

St. Pierre, Red Eye, and a host of deck hands lit fuses and threw their floating weapons into the sea.

As the others watched below, Declan scanned the seas from the quarterdeck. Suddenly, the floating bombs began to go off. One after the other, they exploded, sending founts of sea spray up into the wind. But all missed. The
Raven's Revenge
and the other Raukar vessels continued to pursue. Jacques yelled and hopped around on the deck. “All that work for noth—”