Ocean Without End (10 page)

‘Bleedin' hell,' he muttered. ‘All right, let's go. I hope whatever's on the other side of that wall is better than what's on this side.'

‘Don't worry.' I slapped his shoulder. ‘We'll be back on board the
Mermaid
by sunrise.'

‘In the dungeon, more like.'

‘Out to sea and clear away.'

‘Roasted on a spit in the
piazza
.'

‘Will you come on?'

‘Aye, ma'am.'

He took the rope from me, checked again for the guards in the bastion, and let it fly, uncoiling, through the night air and out over the parapet.

‘You first,' said Jem. ‘I'll keep a watch. Whistle when you're down.'

‘If I can't whistle, I'll scream.'

He chuckled. ‘Over you go, then.'

I sneaked a last glance along the empty stone parapets and grabbed the rope in both hands as I clambered onto the edge.

‘Keep down,' Jem hissed, and I dropped low. Up here, a cool breeze ruffled the flags and chilled me in an instant. Or maybe it was fear. I crouched between two huge carved blocks of stone. From these ramparts, the soldiers on duty could see clear across the island. In the distance the sea glistened under the moon. I didn't dare look down, but wiped my bloody hands on my shirt and then lowered myself slowly over the edge.

It felt as if the whole of Malta could see me hanging there. I waited for a cry, a shot in the dark. None came.

Hand over hand, I kept going, slowly and surely down the rope, keeping close to the wall. It wasn't so different from racing Carlo down the shrouds, but I was tired, and my muscles began trembling with fear and exhaustion. I tried walking my feet down the rough stone walls — anything to stop me from
sliding down too fast. It didn't help. I wrapped my legs tightly around the rope and dug my fingernails deep into it at every grip, until I felt they would rip right out of my fingers. Sweat stung my eyes.

But then, below me, I felt the end of the rope between my bare feet. It was too short. A quick peep down revealed some straggly bushes and dry grassland a long drop away. This, I thought, is what they mean by being caught between a rock and a hard place.

My face toward the sky, I let out a long, low whistle. Jem answered, and a sudden tension on the rope told me he was starting his climb down.

I muttered a silent prayer to St Jude, Hope of the Hopeless, closed my eyes, and let go of the rope.

The fall wasn't as long as I'd expected, but I landed on all fours with a thump and a groan that should have woken the guards all across the island. I lay still, the breath knocked right out of me, unable to breathe, unable to move. But I didn't seem to be dead. Good old St Jude.

High above me came a questioning whistle from Jem, no doubt at the end of the rope and wondering if I'd survived the drop. I summoned the little air in my lungs to answer him, then rolled to one side — the fall hadn't killed me, but if Jem landed on top of me I was a dead duck.

He arrived with an almighty thud and lay where he had landed in the dust. A low moan escaped from his lips.

‘Come on, Jem, don't be a girl.'

One of his eyes opened. ‘You still alive, then?' he croaked. ‘Good. Come here while I murder you.'

I rolled over onto my hands and knees. My wrists and ankles hurt like Hades from the landing, but the rest of me seemed to be working. I spat a little blood out. I'd bitten my bottom lip on impact. Jem lay on his back, wheezing, then slowly lifted each arm and leg, flexing his fingers.

‘Still in one piece, then?' I asked.

‘Every bone in my body is shattered, but thanks for asking.'

‘Not as bad as a musket ball in the back, Jem, you have to admit.'

‘I'm not admitting nothing. Wretched child. That's what the Duke called you, but he didn't know the half of it.'

He sat up, gradually and painfully, and glared at me. Uh-oh, I thought, maybe I've pushed him too far this time.

But his eyes crinkled and he threw his head back in a mighty whoop of glee. ‘By Drake's beard!' he said out loud. ‘I don't know where we are, or how I got landed with you, but that was magnificent.'

I was laughing too now, with relief and amazement.

‘Let's go find the boys,' he said, and we linked arms and hobbled into the bushes.

All the way back to the boat we talked through everything that had happened. The others quizzed us, and cheered at Jem's tale of our escape. Although we were covered in bloody cuts, and Jem was limping badly, we were filled with the joy of a
close escape and the crisp early-morning air. But so much of our story made no sense. Francesco and Ricardo kept up a rapid-fire of questions — to most there were no clear answers.

‘What is Hussein Reis doing in the Old City?'

‘There's a price on his head. Is he mad?'

‘And why tonight?' asked Miller. ‘I don't like the sound of it.'

‘Perhaps he will collect our ransom for us?' said Ricardo hopefully.

‘Or get thrown in the dungeon for helping us escape,' said Jem.

‘Mother Mary!' cried Francesco. ‘What will Diablo do to us for giving up the boy for no gold?'

I kept my other thoughts to myself: of poor Carlo's humiliation as he shuffled from the room; of Hussein's blue eyes peering into the dark courtyard after us; of him standing beside a Duke as an equal. There had to be a clue in all of this. I needed time to think.

‘Jem?' He was some way behind on the narrow goat-track, leaning on Miller for support as he hobbled along. ‘Have you got that letter from Hussein? Those sealed orders he gave you?'

‘Aye, right here.' He pulled a crumpled paper from inside his shirt. It was still sealed. I flipped it over.

The letter was addressed to me. Miss Lily Swann.

How did he know my family's name?

‘Jem, what did he say when he gave you this?'

He shrugged, trying to remember. ‘He asked if any of the rest of us could read, and said to give it to you … well, about now, I suppose.'

I tore open the packet with fluttery fingers.

There was no signature, but underneath a quick sketch of two scimitars, crossed. I read it again, as best I could as the sun peeped over the distant cliffs. Fine, dignified handwriting, orders that brooked no disobedience. Whoever he was, whoever he had been, Hussein Reis was a man to be reckoned with.

Whatever he was playing at, we would have to play along. The
Mermaid
was going into action.

It took less than a day to sail around the island and find the cove with a lonely whitewashed house high on the cliff top. We sailed past in the daylight, pretending not to be gawking, and then doubled back in the dark for our raid later that night. I was down below, listening and waiting, when Miller called down the hatch.

‘Jemmy wants you on deck, Cyg. Looks serious, too.'

Lord, I thought, what have I done now?

I scrambled up on deck as fast as my feet would carry me. The crew was gathered in a rough circle around Jem, who stood with a grim face as I approached. There was a sword in his hand.

‘What is it, Jem? What's wrong?'

He stared at me for a long moment and finally raised the sword in front of him. My stomach squirmed, and something turned over deep inside me.

Suddenly, he smiled, as wide as I'd ever seen.

‘We figured that if you're going to lead a pirate raid, you ought to have a proper weapon.'

He held the sword out to me.

‘This is for you, Cygnet, from all of us. Make sure you don't disgrace us.'

They were all beaming at me now.

I gazed up at the blade. I'd never seen anything so beautiful.

‘Where did you get this?'

‘Let's just say we borrowed it from Diablo.'

I held it in my hands. The hilt was heavy, too large for my small fists, and the guard circled my knuckles with inches to spare. The leather wrapped tight around the grip warmed to my touch. I clenched my fingers and slowly lifted the tip of the blade off the deck and high into the air. The steel glimmered, even in the dark.

‘I … I've never seen such a sword.'

‘It's a scimitar,' said Ricardo. ‘Very precious, very famous. The greatest weapon of the Barbary Coast.'

My sword. My very own Excalibur.

‘You're a real swashbuckler now, little Cygnet,' Max whispered. ‘There's no going back to Santa Lucia.'

He was right, of course, but at that moment I didn't care. I couldn't take my eyes off the inlaid gold tracing fine arabesques along the blade. Long after my shoulder had started aching and I'd had to rest the tip on the deck, I stared at my sword, moved the curved blade ever so slightly to catch the starlight, and wondered at its gleam.

How many men have you killed, friend? I wondered. How many more dark hearts will tremble at your touch?

‘Time to go ashore, Cygno,' Moggia whispered.
‘Lights are out in the big house.'

I nodded.

‘You take the first watch, Max. If we're not back by dawn, up anchor, circle the island, and come back tomorrow after dark.'

‘Aye, lass. You'll be back all right.'

I wrapped the scimitar in its oilcloth again and stowed the precious package in the locker below the tiller. It would be small arms only tonight.

I stuck a dagger in my belt and clambered down the ropes into the boat. We made our way quietly into the rocky cove, oars muffled, nobody speaking. The darkness felt like fog against my face. As the boat ground onto the sand, Miller and Francesco leaped out to pull us into shore. With a signal, I sent them all on their way — two small groups of men scrambling over the rocks and up the cliff towards the silent house.

It was a good night for it: cloudy with a light nor'easterly breeze whipping up the grass to mask the sounds of our creeping.

At another hand signal, two men slipped onto the veranda and tried a window or two before they slid one open. Pale curtains fluttered out in the breeze. Two other men crossed the yard to sneak into the barn. They would take whatever they could from the smokehouse, from the granary. Those fat sheep we'd seen through the telescope were safe tonight — no point trying to get beasts back down the cliff — but we might as well eat decent food for a week or two more.

We had other business inside. Jem and I quietly
prised open a back door. The kitchen was cold and stank of old food scraps and cats. Through the archway, we tiptoed through a servants' dining hall and into the main house.

I could hear the chickens kicking up a bit of a fuss in the coop. Gently does it, lads — gently and silently.

We could see a long hallway with many doors and a grand staircase. A gold-framed mirror set our reflections upon us. Jem raised his eyebrows and blew a kiss to himself.

Third door on the left. I tried the door handle. It turned. All too easy so far.

I stepped into the library, Jem close behind me. Ebenezer Black stood in the middle of the room, his musket aimed at my face.

‘Hold, scum, or I'll shoot!' he hissed.

‘No need to worry, sir,' I whispered. ‘We won't harm you. We're only here for the chalice.'

He laughed quietly. ‘That's all?'

‘No point beating about the harbour, is there, sir? So hand it over and you'll go unharmed.'

His smile was ghastly. Yellow teeth and thin, bitter lips.

‘You seem to forget, young lady, that you are the one with the gun aimed at your head.'

‘I thank you, sir, for the reminder.' I bowed, ever so slightly. ‘But may I remind you that scum such as me rarely travel alone? So you'll no doubt be aware that my men are standing by in your nursery, ready to grab your children should anything go wrong.'

‘You're bluffing.'

‘I may be. You never know. Let's find out, shall we?' I took a deep breath as if to holler.

‘Hold still, I said!' he snapped.

‘Hand it over and you'll come to no harm — we'll be gone before you know it.'

‘Insolent pup!' His fingers were tightening around the gun. ‘Who are you to raid my house in the middle of the night and issue orders like the Grand Master himself?'

‘There's your clue, sir.'

‘Nonsense. You claim to be a messenger from the Grand Palace? Impossible!'

‘He wants no fuss, sir. Allow the chalice to return to its rightful home and you'll hear no more about it.'

‘Ha!' Black snorted. ‘That proves it. You foolish girl. If the Grand Master wants that damn cup back, all he has to do is ask.'

‘Of course,' I nodded knowingly. What on earth was going on here? Nothing for it but to take a chance. ‘He gave it to you for safekeeping.'

He shrugged. There was some kind of strange truth in my storytelling. Worth another punt.

‘There has been a change of plan, and now the time has come for its return. But he wants it kept quiet.'

Black tried hard to control his demeanour, but a terrible grimace flashed across his face. ‘So soon?' he whispered. ‘It can't be!'

‘You'd best give me the chalice.'

‘Never! You expect me to believe this nonsense?'

I sighed.

‘Jem,' I motioned at him, ‘take the children to the boat.'

‘You'll not touch my children!' Black stepped forward, menacingly.

‘It's your choice, sir. I'm sure they'll make fine pirate slaves — it's not such a bad thing. I used to be one myself, and you can see how I've turned out.' I grinned in spite of myself, in spite of the danger.

‘I'm warning you!'

Enough of this! ‘No, I'm warning you, Mister Black. We can slaughter you now and take the chalice or you can save us all the bother. My master will not rest until he has it. Shoot me tonight, and another will come tomorrow. And the night after. You will never sleep safe in your bed again.'

For a long moment, nobody even breathed, but at last he sighed and lowered the gun.

‘Take it, the damned thing. I never wanted it anyway. I don't care who sent you. You don't need to make up any more of those silly stories. Leave my children alone.'

He fell backwards, heavily, into a chair, his head sagging down on his chest. Jem scrambled over to the desk and began dragging open the drawers.

‘Blast you, where is it, then?' he cried.

I watched Black's eyes flick around the room.

‘The bookcase,' I said quietly.

Jem stumbled towards it in the gloom and flung a book on the floor to search behind it.

‘Careful with those, Jem, they're precious,' I warned. He looked up at me, shook his head slowly as he did so often, and resumed the search.

The door opened silently, and Miller peered in. ‘What's up, Cyg?'

‘We'll be ready in a moment,' I replied. ‘Gather up the boys. Mister Black's been most obliging, so there's no need to make a fuss.'

‘There's a pretty little kitchen maid,' he said hopefully.

‘Leave her alone, and get moving.' I tried to sound gruff.

‘Aye, Cyg.' He disappeared.

When I turned around, Jem was holding the chalice tight in both hands, mouth agape.

‘Come on, wrap it up and get a move on.'

I stepped closer to Black.

‘Forgive me, sir, but it might look better if there were signs you'd fought like a tiger.'

He nodded.

‘It's only fair — you were game enough,' I said.

A snort, almost a groan.

I waved Jem from the room. ‘Get going. Meet me at the boat.'

He ran, and in a moment I heard a low whistle from the yard. At last Black looked up from whatever despair he'd been contemplating.

‘Who are you, child?'

‘Nobody of consequence.'

‘Ha! I assure you it is of some consequence to me. It's not customary, you must admit, for a young girl to be bounding about in the middle of the night with a gang of cut-throats.'

‘Tell you a secret, sir, it's the sorriest gang of cut-throats you ever beheld.'

‘Now I look at you, you do remind me of someone I knew long ago. What do they call you?'

‘Never mind that.'

‘Funny, really, that I should be thinking of him now.'

‘Your pardon, sir, I must be getting along. You'll excuse me if I just hit you on the head and take my leave.'

‘There's no need. The Grand Master is too lily-livered to take any action against me. But tell me, who really sent you here?'

‘You can tell the Grand Master it was El Capitán de Diablo who has deprived him of his precious chalice,' I lied. Anything to help send Diablo to hell or prison or both.

‘Of course, Diablo,' muttered Black. ‘That moron. He'll be the death of us all … yes, we'll all end like Rafe Swann.'

There was a dry, sardonic laugh. I think my heart stopped for a beat or two, and the skin all over my body became cold and creeping. I put my hand on my dagger.

‘Rafe Swann? What do you want to go talking about him for?' My voice was hoarse, gravelly in my throat.

Black stared at me for what seemed to be a very long time. ‘So it's true, eh? It's not just a passing resemblance? Well, I never. You must be Lily.'

‘I don't know what you mean!' I pulled the dagger from my belt, my heart all anger now.

‘You look like the ghost of him, girl.'

‘Shut your mouth!'

‘So now you're doing the bidding of the man who killed your father? It's a strange thing.'

I hit him.

He was the first person I ever hit, and just about the last, but I hit him with a fury and he fell to the floor. He still wouldn't shut up.

‘You're too young to have blood on your hands.'

‘I already have bloody hands,' I growled like a real pirate, and grabbed the musket, primed it, and aimed it at his chest.

‘Indeed, quite the pirate princess.' He smiled again.

I could trust myself no longer with the gun in my hands, spun around and shot the library shutters off their hinges. I threw the musket into the fireplace with a crash. Somewhere in the house there were cries and shouted alarms. Like a flash, I leaped over Black, still sprawled on the floor, and scooped up an armful of books scattered across the desk.

‘When you're ready to hear what happened to Swann, come back without your men, and if I'm still alive, I'll tell you the terrible truth.' Black was shouting now.

‘I don't give a damn about Rafe Swann!'

I leaped over the shattered remains of the window and ran out into the night. Jem and the boys were racing back up the path.

‘We heard a shot,' Jem panted.

‘That was me — let's hop it.'

I could see them glance at each other and back at me, admiringly.

‘I didn't shoot him, you idiots, I just made it seem like we're a much more fearsome lot of ruffians than we really are.'

‘Speak for yourself, Cyg,' spluttered Miller as we thundered down the cliff path to the beach. ‘We was fearsome enough until you came along.'

‘You're pussycats, the lot of you — you can't fool me,' I teased, and we were all laughing, with relief as much as anything else, as we piled into the boat and struck out from the shore.

Jem was beside me in the stern, the books stacked up between us.

‘Where is it?' I whispered.

‘Right under you, stowed safe. What was all that business about the Grand Master and the change of plan?'

‘I don't know, Jem. I was just making it up.'

He laughed aloud.

‘Who the hell's that?' The surprise in Miller's voice made us all turn to face the shore. A lonely figure jumped up and down, waving his arms.

‘Damn,' Jem swore, ‘what fool got left behind?' He made ready to turn the boat.

‘All hands are aboard, Jem,' said Miller. ‘Don't know who that is, but he's not one of us.'

I grabbed the telescope from my pocket and trained it on the shore. In the half-light it was hard to tell, but it looked for all the world like —

‘Carlo!'

Amid shouted greetings, we rowed back towards the beach. Carlo ran into the shallows to meet us, waving wildly.

‘My friends!'

‘Keep your voice down,' I hissed.

But Carlo's shouting was silenced as his feet
floundered on the rocky seabed. He wavered, struggled for balance like a beetle on its back, and then fell, diving face forward into the shallow water.

‘No doubt about it,' said Miller. ‘It's Carlo de Santiago.'