Isle of Swords (45 page)

“Aw, yer too old,” said Red Eye. “I'll go.”

“Right,” said Midge with a cough. “'Ave you ever had noble intentions?”

There was general laughter. But Captain Ross said, “I am the captain of this ship. I have led you into peril. But I will not ask any of you to do this task. Padre Dominguez said that the key is encased in a stone like any other, that he alone knew what to look for. I will dive and see if my knowledge of the sea is as vast as it should be!”

“But,” said Cat, standing rapidly on the rail, “this ship needs its captain!” And before anyone could stop him, Cat dove into the water.

“I'll go after him,” said Red Eye.

“No,” Ross ordered. “No. We will wait.”

As soon as he hit the water, Cat knew something was wrong. He'd dived close to the ship and begun kicking too soon. He felt a pinch on his ankle and knew he'd slashed it pretty deeply on a barnacle.

Still, he kicked and swam down, down, almost to the ocean floor.

His breath already beginning to thin in his lungs, Cat searched among the sea rocks and debris but found nothing.

From his perch in the crow's-nest, Midge cried out, “Captain, off the port rail!”

Ross and the others ran across the deck. There, not fifty yards away, three dark fins closed in on the ship. “Sharks,” Ross whispered.

“The devils,” said Red Eye, and he drew pistols from his bandolier and opened fire. Others did as well. But Ross yelled, “Stop!

You might hit Cat!”

They immediately stopped firing. Midge suddenly let out a high-pitched screech. “What was that, Midge?” Ross said. He'd never heard such a sound come from a man.

Midge jumped up and down in the crow's-nest, pointing at the surface. “The water!” he cried. “A shadow . . . a shadow in the depths!”

Cat saw it, just yards away in a great wide-open area of seafloor. It wasn't a sea rock at all, but a huge stone chest. A bloody cloud trailing behind him, he swam for the chest. As he closed in, he choked out a mouthful of air. The lid to the chest had been thrown aside.

He swam up to it, reached in, and felt frantically about. He found a hook. There was a small hunk of something soft on it, but no sign of a key. Cat felt a presence and looked up.

Three large sharks—dark on top, white beneath—raced toward Cat with alarming speed. Cat planted his feet on the chest and pushed off, dispelling most of his remaining air. He expected to feel the sharks' jaws clamp down on his ankle, but the water all around him surged rapidly as if an unseen current had just begun to stream through. Cat turned to look behind him, just as one of the sharks raced forward. Cat strained to see. Something huge was behind the shark. Jaws the size of a small ship's hull crashed shut upon the shark, and the shark was gone. Gigantic claws stretched out from the darkness. They grabbed the other two sharks, constricted, and released. The sharks floated slowly out from the claws but made no motion to swim.

Cat blasted out the rest of his air and clawed for the surface.

Through the bubbles and the graying fringes of his vision, Cat saw an enormous webbed fin and luminous yellow eyes.

“Lad, open yer eyes.” It was Nubby . . . and half the crew.

Cat sat up quickly. “Monster . . .” He coughed.

“What?” said Ross.

“Something down there,” Cat said.

“Sharks,” Red Eye whispered.

“No . . . something else.”

Ross squinted. “What about the key? Did you find it?”

Cat shook his head. “It wasn't in a rock at all. There was a stone chest.”

Ross thought of Padre Dominguez's story. “That son of a gun.”

“The key, it was gone!”

“Thorne has been here already,” said Jacques St. Pierre. “But how could he have done it so quickly?”

“I don't know,” Ross said. “But I'm not leaving the Isle of Swords until I'm sure. If Thorne is here, perhaps Anne is too. Stede, get the men ready to go ashore. Red Eye, make sure every man is armed to the teeth. Swords, pistols, daggers, grenades—everything.”

“Aye, sir!” Red Eye sped off with a spring in his step.

“Jacques, did you finish that special barrel I asked for?” Ross asked.

“Absolument!” he replied. “Light the fuse and let it fly. There will be enough smoke to see it for miles.”

“Good.” Ross turned to Ramiro. “You will have the helm. I will leave you with enough men to move the ship, but nothing more.”

“As you wish,” said the old shipwright. “I will take care of the ship as if it were mine—which, of course, it is.”

Ross patted him on the back. “Once we are on land, sail the
Bruce
to the base of the cliff beneath the castle. I don't know how long it will be or what we will find when we get up there. But when you see the smoking barrel, be ready to receive cargo!”

“Midge, make sure we have the rope and the baskets.”

“Aye, Cap'n.”

“Oh, and get the barrel of monkey pee. We can't forget that!”

“Awww, Cap'n!”

44
THE RED TRAIL

D
eclan Ross watched the
Bruce
come about and sail beneath the cliff.
Smart
, he thought. Ramiro had let the ship coast behind an outcropping, a sort of root at the base of the rockface. Ross couldn't see the ship at all from the shore. They formed three teams of twenty men. Some carried rope. Some carried woven baskets. All of them carried weapons. And Jacques St. Pierre and Midge each carried a barrel.

“Declan, look,” said Stede. “Footprints.”

“And not very old,” said Ross. “Let's go.” They had about thirty yards of easy footing as they marched across the narrow shore. But after that the ground became rocky and uneven. As they clambered up, they found long-cooled lava deposits and marveled at their size. Every few moments, the volcano rumbled. Midge cringed looking up at the smoking mountain. “You don't think it's goin' to go off, do you?”

“Nah, mon,” said Stede. “Those lil' rumbles b' just the mountain lettin' us know it's here.”

Still, the crew marched on warily. After an hour's uphill journey, they came to an area where they could climb no farther. There was no place to go . . .

But in.

In the side of the rockface, a wide cavelike entrance beckoned.

“Okay, men,” announced Ross, “it's time.” Midge came forward reluctantly and popped the top off his barrel.

“Oh, that is horrendous!” bellowed Jules, who stood near Midge.

“Yes, but that's what keeps the wee beasties away,” said Ross.

“Padre Dominguez said we need to rub it on every area of exposed skin.”

“You're kidding,” said Red Eye. “I'm not putting that on.”

“It's an order!” said Ross, and, being the captain, he went to the barrel first, put his hand in, and brought out a dripping fistful of the rancid liquid. In all of his years of commanding a crew, Ross had never heard so many complaints. In truth, he would have complained too, but he was the captain. A distant part of him wondered if Padre Dominguez had made this part up . . . some sort of practical joke.

A reeking, griping lot, the crew of the
Bruce
entered the tunnel.

And in the closed space of the tunnel, it was ripe indeed. Four crewmen in all—including Red Eye and Caiman—found a way to slip by without putting on the potent primate perfume. The sunlight ended almost immediately, and the men lit small lanterns. The walls became smooth, almost glassy, and the footing was fairly even. As they traveled on, they began to notice pockmarks and holes in the walls. Some of these were only an inch or two deep, but others went as far in as the men could see with the lantern light.

“What do you suppose these creatures are?” Cat asked.

“Mayb' some kind of bat,” said Stede. “But I've never heard of a bat that's drawn to the heat of the body.”

Jacques St. Pierre laughed. “And how in the world did the monk know that monkey pee would keep these—these things away?”

“It's keeping me away!” said Red Eye. “You gentlemen smell right horrible!”

“STOP!!” Ross shouted from the front of their line. He leaned over and held out his lantern to get a better look. The others gathered behind the captain, nearly pushing him over in their effort to see.