The Devil's Tide (41 page)

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Authors: Matt Tomerlin

Tags: #historical fiction

BOOK: The Devil's Tide
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"You knew this couldn't last forever," Dillahunt told him.

Blackbeard looked at him. From the creases in his cheeks, he might have been smiling sadly beneath that nigh impenetrable beard. "Aye," he said. "The end always comes too soon."

The ship began to list toward its starboard side. The fire quickly reached the mainmast, slithering up to the sails. The heavy winds urged the fire across the sails in successive beats. Before long, blackened hemp was flaking away like dried leaves that had been dead too long. Dillahunt would have marveled at the sight, if he hadn't been fighting for his life. An explosion of that size could only have originated from a powder keg, which meant
Revenge's
lower hull had likely ruptured, and water was already filling in.

Blackbeard hacked at Dillahunt's blade and gradually inched toward the six pistols he had discarded during his attempt to make a hostage of Calloway. Before he reached them, the harness of pistols slid down the slanted deck, right through two rail posts, and landed somewhere on the quarterdeck.

Dillahunt grinned. "Now you'll just have to kill me fair."

Blackbeard returned the grin. "I seek merely to curtail the inevitable. That's all I've ever done. The only certainty in life be death."

"Even for you, Teach."

"I've never claimed otherwise."

The men on the quarterdeck made a mad dash for the stairs. Five were on fire, shrieking and thrashing. Several of
Revenge's
crew ran right past Dillahunt and Blackbeard, darting up the ladder to the poop deck. Dillahunt's men joined them, their quarrel momentarily discarded.

"Cowards!" Blackbeard spat at them. "Do not flee the cleansing fires nipping at your back, for you'll be immersed eternally soon enough!"

Dillahunt thrust at an opening, but Blackbeard parried. "And where are you bound, Teach?"

His remaining eye rolled back to Dillahunt. "That's for God to determine. I have only ever served by his design."

Dillahunt laughed. "You have no idea how insane that sounds, do you?"

"Mayhap," Blackbeard admitted. His voice lacked the fury Dillahunt would have expected, but his resolve was unhindered. "One thing be a certainty. If my beloved ship be destined for the depths, you shall follow."

The muscles in Dillahunt's arms ached as Blackbeard's cutlass beat down upon his repeatedly. With his back to the rail, he could retreat no further unless he leapt into the sea, and he wasn't about to run away like a coward. He would see the monster dead before he left this ship, or he would never leave at all.

As he blocked every blow, waiting for an opening, his mind inevitably wandered to Calloway. Last he saw, Lindsay was dragging her toward the capstan. When he looked again, they were both gone. If they were in the hold when the powder ignited, they were both surely dead.

Blackbeard lowered his blade and jabbed at Dillahunt's waist. The tip pierced his belly, and he jerked sideways before it could enter further. Pain pinched the muscles in his stomach, and he clenched his jaw. He brought his blade down on top of Blackbeard's, pinning it to the rail.

"Your thoughts meander," Blackbeard said, pulling his blade free. "You make this easy for me. Your mind be easily fogged. I see that much in your eyes. You are assailed by questions, too many at once, yes?"

Dillahunt winced, a red spot blooming in his bandages from the fresh wound. "What would you know of it?"

"All too much," Blackbeard sighed. "We be of like minds, I think. We do not settle on simple answers to thorny queries, and thus we find hidden truths others do not see. That be equal halves boon and burden. If I were to pose a troublesome riddle, your mind would not readily relinquish it, no matter how badly you wished it gone. Should you leave here alive, with me dead, that riddle would gnaw at your mind long after the fish have gnawed at mine."

"Speak plain English," Dillahunt spat.

"Oh, I think you understand me."

Dillahunt slid around a cannon, making for the ladder to the poop deck. Blackbeard advanced fast. "Seek refuge with cowards and I'll split you down the spine."

Dillahunt glanced up at the poop deck, where men were scrambling for purchase as the rear of the ship lifted out of the water.

"We can't stay here," Dillahunt said. His feet were starting to slide. The deck slanted as the starboard bow inclined toward the water. The fire had made its way up the stairs, touching the quarterdeck. Beyond that, the ship was engulfed. A sail fell away from the main mast, disintegrating in the wind. If they lingered much longer, both men would be pitched into the fire.

"You've somewhere better to be?" Blackbeard taunted, spreading his arms. The wind swept over him, whipping at his coat and nurturing the fuses in his beard. Smoke swirled before his face.

Dillahunt swiped at Blackbeard's blade. "I would spend my last moments in fairer company."

Blackbeard cackled a laugh. "And what company be that? Your dainty lover is likely dead by now. If it's any consolation, I didn't intend to harm her. She forced my hand." He jabbed a thumb at the black hollow where his right eye had been. "Quick thinking, it was. Impressed though I be, I'd gladly return the kindness. Eye for an eye."

"Ha!" said Dillahunt. "You would've murdered her either way."

"Nay," Blackbeard protested. "She be much more interesting alive."

Dillahunt delivered a jarring blow, leaning into his cutlass, and Blackbeard stumbled back a few feet. "For once we're in agreement."

Blackbeard's teeth emerged, tightly clenched, as his lips split in a macabre grin. "You simple fool. Have you not yet realized who shares your bed?"

Dillahunt halted his blade mid-swing. He frowned. "What?"

Blackbeard opened his mouth to give answer . . . but so too opened the deck. The planking split apart beneath his legs like rows of gnarled teeth along a yawning mouth. Fire burst from the fissure in a bubbling cloud, enveloping him. Blackbeard's final expression was strangely impassive as he looked down to consider his fate. He didn't scream. His lone eye reflected the blaze as he plunged below, and his beard took flame along the way. And then he was gone, supplanted by fire. His tricorn hat landed on one side of the disjointed deck, smoldering.

Dillahunt stared into the blaze until his eyes could no longer endure the heat and light and most of all the swirling, endless patterns. He cast aside his sword, crawled over the port rail, and dove toward the water below. And all the while, Blackbeard's final riddle gnawed at his thoughts.

KATE

A dense black cloud that reeked of sawdust and gunpowder rolled into the crew's quarters. The deck jolted violently beneath Kate's hands and knees. The roar of fire was reciprocated by a thunderous current of water splashing into the hold.

Kate shook her head, fighting off fatigue. The gash in her forehead had swiftly manifested a throbbing headache. Thick drops of blood pattered the floor, dripping from the matted strands of her hair. Her head felt light and vacant, but her muscles were tight and cramping all over. She was all but spent, but this wasn't over yet.

She crawled over to Calloway, who had remained safely tucked in the space between the two bunks. "What happened?" the girl asked, hugging her knees and trembling.

"I found the powder kegs," Kate replied.

Smoke wafted into the room, trailing after the dust, and they both started coughing. "We have to get out of here before we suffocate," Kate choked.

"Your forehead," Calloway gasped.

Kate blinked as blood spilled over her eyes. "Is it bad?"

Calloway was staring up, mouth hanging open in fascination. "I think I see your skull," she answered. She raised a hand. "Can I touch it?"

Kate snatched Calloway's wrist. She suppressed the nausea rising in her stomach. "I've had worse."

Kate looked around, blinking dust and blood out of her eyes. She took the red bandana from the corpse and fastened it tight around her head. She crushed a palm against her forehead, and already she felt the cloth soaking with blood. She hoped the pressure would be enough to stop the bleeding.

She tried to stand and nearly toppled. She grasped one of the bunks and looked at the floor. "We're sinking."

"Oh god," Calloway said. "What did you do, Kate?"

"Maybe saved us. Maybe killed us. We'll find out." She offered a hand. "Get up. We're leaving."

Calloway took her hand, and Kate lifted her up. They stumbled toward the exit, slanting forward to compensate for the upward slope in the floor. The thick smoke made it difficult to see more than two feet. They reached the stairs, and the hatch they had entered through was blocked by flaming debris. Cinders rained down the steps, and smoke was swirling down.

"So much for leaving," Calloway said.

Kate looked down the stairs to the hold. Water was splashing below. The ship creaked, wood buckling as it was slowly being pulled under. "We're still leaving," Kate said. "Just not the way we came."

She yanked Calloway's hand, pulling her down the stairs. "Wait," Calloway said. "Wait, wait!" she cried.

Kate stopped just before the water. The air was painfully thin, as though it was being sucked from her lungs before she could inhale. The entire ceiling was churning flame, splintered planks bowing inward at the center, threatening to collapse into the hold. The casks still above the water were on fire. The hold was filled to waist level, with the ocean pouring in from a black void in the back, where the powder room had been.

"The explosion gouged a hole right there," Kate rasped, pointing. "Given how fast the water's flooding in, it should be wide enough to swim through."

"Oh, no, no, no," Calloway said, voice rising to a panicked pitch. She gasped for breath. "I'm not going to drown."

Kate whirled, slapping Calloway hard across the face. "That's exactly what you'll do if you stay here, cowering and pissing yourself!"

"I can't swim through that!" Calloway insisted. Her face was twisted in fear, and Kate was reminded how much younger this girl was.

"You don't have a choice!" She yanked on Calloway's wrist, lugging her into the water. Kate trudged against the current, its icy fingers biting at her legs. Smoke swirled against the water, curling away before it could touch the surface.

Calloway was yelping frenzied protests, but Kate ignored her. She maintained a firm grip, dragging the girl through the water. A burning cask rolled off of the others, nudged by the slant of the ship, and splashed into the water behind them, prompting Calloway to increase her pace.

The deck wouldn't hold out much longer. Wood popped and cracked as the fire chewed away at it. Flaming chunks rained from above, sizzling when they hit the water. One of them struck Calloway's shoulder, hissing against her skin. She cried out, clutching the raw mark it left behind.

The ship dipped sharply toward its starboard side, and three more casks rolled into the water. The impact propelled Calloway into Kate, and both women collapsed in the water. They emerged, blinking water out of their eyes and coughing hoarsely. Smoke filled Kate's lungs with every breath she took for another cough. Calloway's face was bright red, her throat bulging as she hacked up water.

The ship had tipped to a ninety degree angle, and the sea was churning up out of the breach in the hull. Kate took hold of Calloway, ushering her toward the hole. "No!" Calloway said, struggling against her. "I can't do this!"

Kate touched Calloway's cheeks, drawing her near. "It's just a little swim, Jaq. Just a little swim and then all this will be over."

Calloway's eyes glazed with tears, and her chin quivered. "I'm scared, Kate."

"I know," Kate said. "I'm scared too."

"No you're not," the girl said. "You're not scared of anything."

"Who told you that?" Kate said. She attempted a laugh, but it came out as a throaty cough.

The deck above bent further inward, a crack forming down the middle. Flaming debris tumbled through the seam and into the hold, slapping the water. Steam rose from every impact. The ship shuddered.

"I need more time!" Calloway insisted.

"You can't have it!" Kate said, and shoved her headfirst into the bubbling water. She grabbed Calloway's upturned feet and heaved her downward with all her might. The girl disappeared into the black.

God, I hope she knows how to swim.
She had forgotten to ask.

She looked up just as the deck collapsed. A massive wall of fire descended toward her, breaking apart as it fell. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with smoky air, and dove into the breach.

The current did its best to push her back up. She grasped at the darkness until her fingers grazed a jut of wood. She grabbed hold and pulled herself downward, swinging her arms and kicking her legs. She found another piece of wood and used it as leverage. She glimpsed the jagged circumference of the breach, black against the faint blue glow of the deep, and knew she was almost there. She thrust herself forward, through the opening . . . and was suddenly jarred to a halt. She thrashed in the water but gained no headway. Something had taken hold of her back. She peered over her shoulder. The lace of her bodice was caught on another jut of wood. She beat her elbows against the hull and kicked violently in the water, but the bodice refused to come free.

She fumbled to unlace the front, but her fingers were clumsy, and the lace was tight. Seconds seemed like minutes. Salt water singed the gash in her forehead, sending throbs into her skull. She shook her head spastically, hoping that the frantic motion would somehow gain her lungs more air.

She was halfway through the laces when her fingers hit a knotted tangle that refused to budge. She threw back her head and loosed a warbled, bubbly shriek.

The tension left her muscles, and she let her arms and legs drift. There was no point fighting it anymore. She was out of air. She scanned her surroundings, but the water was too dark to see anything.

As fitting a place as any,
she thought. She braced herself. The first breath would be the worst. She had heard from Bastion that drowning wasn't so bad, once you got past the drowning part. She inquired how he could know such a thing, and he claimed to have drowned once. She had laughed heartily at that.

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