Ocean Without End (2 page)

But she was weary to her bones, and every
Sunday morning, when everyone else was at Mass and the bells were ringing in the
towers, she walked alone to the headland and stared out to sea. Lucas and I
followed her once and hid behind a tree to spy on her. But he got bored, and I
got a creeping guilty feeling as if I'd sneaked into the cathedral all by
myself. We weren't supposed to be there. It was Mama's private time.
We crept away and never said a word, but I swore to myself I would never let
anyone hurt my mother ever again.

She was sad enough already. Papa had gone
down in a storm, somewhere off Malta, they told me. There was no sign of him
now, no sign even of the old blue boat. The
Cygnet
,
he'd called it, a joke about our name. Rafe Swann and his little ship, the
Cygnet
.

‘One day,' he'd said,
‘I'll have a great ship. That'll
be a ship
worthy of a Swann. In the meantime, I'll make do with the
Cygnet
, the mightiest but smallest ship in Santa
Lucia.'

He'd smiled, blue eyes gazing at the
horizon as always. I do remember that.

We tramped for an hour up a dusty track into the hills, then Mama led us off through some bushes, skirting huge limestone boulders, and into a valley. A narrow goatherd's path threaded along the side of the hill and down towards the stream. Even here we could hear the cannon, still firing in the distance.

Lucas was tiring quickly, so we sat down under an old cedar to munch on some bread. Nobody spoke much. We were all too exhausted.

Mama roused us, and we pressed on again, dipping down into the valley and then heading up a steep climb to the very top of a boulder outcrop everyone called Lion Rock. You could see it from all over the island, but I'd never been so close to it before. As we clambered up the last few steps underneath the lion's mane, Lucas gave a yell and ran forward. ‘It really is a cave. Woo-hoo!'

Mama followed him into the darkness, calling out. ‘Watch out for snakes. They probably haven't had any company up here for years.'

‘There's an old fireplace. See, Lil?' Lucas shouted. ‘Someone's been here. There's fish bones everywhere.'

I turned around and looked back along the way we'd come. The path was invisible from here. A few miles away, the old stone town nestled around the harbour. The water still glistened in the sun, and out to sea the fishing boats bobbed on the gentle ocean.

All my life, there had been alarms of wars and pirates approaching our island, Santa Lucia, and on many a moonlit night there were smugglers in the rocky coves around the coast. Many's the time the fishing fleet had kept to its harbour for fear of being taken by Arab marauders. But the town itself, with its fine ramparts and English garrison, had never been attacked. Not in my memory, anyway.

It was a different place now, filled with gunfire and explosions. From up here, it looked as if the quayside warehouses were on fire, with great clouds of black smoke billowing up. The cannon on the hill were pouring shot down into the harbour, where boats were aflame and the great ship still floated, further out of range now, firing its massive guns.

Our little island was no longer a safe haven in these dangerous waters.

I waited until it was dark and Lucas was asleep before moving closer to Mama to ask the question that had troubled me all afternoon.

‘What really happened to Papa?'

She stared at the tiny campfire we'd built in the shelter of the cave.

I waited for her to speak, but it was a long time before she began.

‘I don't know. That was the worst of it, never really knowing what happened.'

‘What did they tell you?' I urged. ‘You must have heard something.'

‘It's all very confused.' She stoked the fire with a burnt stick. ‘I heard so many tales. First, I heard he was taken as a slave by corsairs, probably from Tripoli. But there was one story that he'd given too much trouble and been marooned on a rocky island somewhere in the middle of the ocean. Someone told me they'd found a body … a skeleton. Once I heard he was still alive and sailing along the Barbary Coast. But I just can't be sure if it was really him.'

‘So he might still be alive somewhere?' My eyes searched her face for clues.

‘If he was alive, he'd have come home by now. Only slavery or death would keep him away from us. I want you to remember that.' She was grinding the stick deep into the ashes of the fire, sending sparks floating up to the blackened roof of the cave.

‘They weren't corsairs,' I said.

‘What do you mean?' She was watching me closely.

‘The ship that attacked us this morning. It wasn't a Barbary galley — it looked more like a Spanish or Dutch ship. So you don't have to worry that the corsairs have come back to take us.'

She smiled, just a little.

‘Pirates are pirates, my darling girl, whether they are raiders from Algiers taking Christian slaves, or Knights of Malta capturing Muslim slaves, or just fishermen down on their luck. It's best to be safe out of their way.'

‘I don't understand why they've attacked the town. It makes no sense.'

‘Perhaps there's gold in the fort, or maybe it's just gunpowder they're after.'

‘They've used enough of that today.'

‘Aye, indeed,' she said. ‘Maybe they were just hungry, and the sight of a market town made their mouths water. Some pirates don't need a reason.'

‘What would my father have done, if he'd seen them attack this morning?' I wondered aloud.

‘He'd have sent us up here, and then gone down to fight anyone he could lay his hands on.'

Mama laughed at some memory she couldn't share.

‘We used to come up here many a time, before you were born. Life was much more dangerous then. We lived through many days such as this when I was your age, when the seas were filled with marauders and not a month went by without a ship taken, people killed — your grandparents amongst them. But the last few years, with all those French and British Navy ships sailing about battling each other, the pirates seemed to vanish. I suppose they'd gone off to harass some other poor folk. Now they've come back. Mrs Brisket, bless her, and the others, they've forgotten how it used to be. But not me. I'll never forget.'

I was feeling sleepy now and nestled down beside her, my head in her lap. She stroked my hair.

‘My father wouldn't be afraid of pirates,' I murmured.

‘No, he was never afraid. It got him into strife, but I loved him for it.'

‘I don't remember him very well,' I confessed.

‘Never fear, my darling girl,' she whispered. ‘I'll remember for both of us. Now, sleep.'

I woke in the dark a few hours later. The dusty cave floor was hard as marble, and damp as winter. Every muscle hurt.

Down below in Santa Lucia township, the shooting had finally stopped, although from time to time, as I lay with my arms wrapped tight around me, I could hear a musket firing from the ramparts.

There was a glimmering of moonlight outside the cave. I struggled to my feet and tiptoed out. The town was quiet, but not still. It was an ancient groaning beast, stirring to defend itself from attack. Beyond it, the ocean shimmered silver, and against the light was a familiar shape — the pirate ship, tacking around Seal Rock outside the harbour. They were leaving.

I skipped down the hill to watch them go, and settled on a tussock where I could see the whole bay and clear out to sea. My whole body relaxed with a breath, so completely that I realised that I'd been tight with fear all day. Somewhere a nightingale sang. What a perfect night. There was just enough of a breeze to see the pirates on their way, and enough light for me to watch them go.

I thought of my friend Flynn, his hands tight around a musket, peering into the dark across the harbour. But perhaps he was wounded. Or dead.

Like my father. Or was my father marooned on a lonely rock somewhere in the vast Mediterranean? Somewhere near Malta. Waiting for someone to come to his rescue. Waiting for Lucas and me to come to his rescue.

As soon as we're old enough we'll go in search of him, I whispered into the darkness. As soon as we can buy some provisions and a bigger boat, we'll set sail to find our father. If he's still alive.

I wasn't watching the path. I wasn't even listening to the sounds around me. Still, I don't know how they crept up so close without me hearing. First thing I heard was the click of the musket being cocked just behind me.

‘Now then, what are you doing out here all alone?' someone whispered.

I turned around very slowly, hardly daring to breathe.

In the darkness I could make out a few faces, all strangers, all filthy and ragged. One of them aimed a blunderbuss right at me. ‘Answer me, boy!' he hissed.

I swallowed and tried to speak, but no noise came.

The men took a step closer. One, bald and toothless, was glaring at me. The others peered around carefully, as if fearing an ambush.

‘Ah, take him down to the boat.'

‘He'll slow us down. Just shoot 'im.'

‘No noise. Cut his throat, and quick about it.'

I jumped to my feet. ‘No!' I tried to scream, but it came out as a whisper.

One man, taller than the others, stepped forward, right up to me, close enough for me to smell him. He smelled rotten.

He brandished a dagger in my face.

‘Right then, son. You can show us the path to Cockle Bay, or we'll kill you on the spot.'

I nodded. This was no time to tell them I'm not a boy.

‘I know the way,' I whispered. ‘You're not on the right path. It's down there a-ways.'

‘Lead on, then, and quick about it.'

I nodded again and motioned for them to follow — to follow me away from Mama and Lucas, safe and asleep in their cave. I stumbled through the gorse, cutting around the bottom of the hill and towards the cliff that sheltered Cockle Bay.

I could hear the strangers shuffling behind me, but they were very quiet. Two of them hauled something heavy along between them. No smugglers, these. It must be a raiding party from the ship.

They must be pirates.

‘Boy!' called the tall man. ‘Stop a minute.'

I waited for him to catch up.

He didn't have such an evil face, close up, but there was a pistol stashed in his belt and his dagger was still drawn and at the ready.

‘I've lost my bearings, lad. You'd better not be leading us astray. Where's the bay?'

‘Down there,' I pointed. ‘You just follow this path around the cliff and watch out for the track down over the rocks.'

‘Tell me, did you ever hear of a lion cave around here somewheres?'

‘We don't have lions here, sir, not for years,' I said. ‘But there are caves everywhere. Hundreds of them.'

‘This one's up on a hill. It's a special sort of cave.'

‘Sorry, sir, no idea,' I shook my head. ‘Must be a secret cave.'

‘All right then. It doesn't matter. We're late enough already. Lead on.'

‘You can see the path from here,' I said, hopefully.

‘You go first. No tricks and no running off. Nobody will hear if I shoot you now.'

I plodded ahead, trying desperately to imagine Cockle Bay and recall if there were any hiding holes in the cliffs. If I ducked behind the rocks and then dived into the water, they wouldn't bother to chase me. Not in the dark. Not if they were already late. Late for what, though?

We reached the track and started down the cliff, slipping and sliding on the pebbles. I heard cursing behind me as someone tripped. Nobody was bothering to keep their voices down now.

Below us, on the beach, a knot of men waited by a small boat. One of them waved up, and the tall man whistled in recognition.

My feet touched the sand. I had to run now, or never, before the two crews met up. I looked about me for a place to hide — there, to the left, a boulder with the waves coursing around it. I braced for the sprint.

Something whacked me on the back of my head. Hard. There was a cracking noise in my skull, and I started to run, but my legs turned to water beneath me and suddenly I was on my face in the sand and somebody was dragging me feet first across the beach. I heard myself groan, with sickening pain circling my head and rocks and shells gouging into my skin.

Next thing I remembered was the bottom of the boat, my face in a pool of water and what tasted like
blood. Maybe it was my blood — it was too dark to tell. When I tried to feel the back of my head, my arms wouldn't work. They were numb.

No, they were tied behind my back.

There was laughter in the boat, relief by the sound of it. Whatever these pigs had planned, it sounded like they'd carried it off, along with me and whatever was in the bundle. Deep in my stomach was something like despair. Something worse.

I groaned, thinking of Mama waking up to find me gone, spirited away — another Swann taken by bloody pirates.

‘Hey, Jem, it sounds like your new cabin boy's awake,' someone said.

‘That's a bleedin' miracle, seeing as how hard you clobbered him.'

Somebody sniggered. ‘He's lucky he's not one of them port guards. We don't hit them, do we? We slits their pretty clean throats.'

They laughed. That's the kind of thing pirates find very funny — don't ask me why.

‘There she is, coming around the headland,' called the tall man.

‘Aye, Jem.'

‘Avast oars. We'll wait for her to come to us.'

I glanced up. They were all staring eastwards. There, dark against the moon, was the ship.

One last chance. One deep breath.

And over the side. Somehow I managed it — I don't know how. I pushed myself up and over. One foot caught on the gunwale, and I heard curses as the boat rocked violently. Then I was in the water.

It was freezing, but that brought me to my senses. My legs thrashed to keep me afloat as I struggled away from the boat, like a beetle in a pond. Two of the men had been flung in the water by the sudden movement, and were floundering around trying to get back on board. They were all shouting, oars banging every which way, and the old fellow let off a musket into the air. In the stern, the tall man, the one they called Jem, stood and watched me swim away.

I turned my back on them to concentrate on kicking my legs. God, it was hard. With each push my head went under. My arms were useless, tied tight and no way of getting them free. I was swimming nowhere, just swallowing water, spluttering, sinking and weeping now in desperation.

‘Please, please,' I cried.

Strong hands grabbed at my jacket and hoisted me back aboard the boat, just as the shadow of the great ship fell across us.