The Time Pirate (35 page)

Gunner looked at Kate. “Kate, God love you, please tell us you remember at least some of what Blood said.”

“All of it.”

“All of it?”

“Of course, silly. I made sure I wouldn't forget.”

Kate reached into the deep pocket of her ragged sweater and pulled out what appeared to be sheets of writing paper, folded into the smallest square possible. For the first time,
Nick noticed what a bedraggled little ragamuffin he now had for a sister. Well, hardly her fault. She'd been dragged halfway round the world into another century and spent her time in the company of filthy pirates.

“I wrote down everything I could. I couldn't spell a lot of the words, and I missed some, but it's mostly all there. What I heard with my glass to the wall.”

Nick hurriedly unfolded the pages and scanned the words, his eyes racing down each page. “She's got it all, Gunner, Blood's immediate naval plans of battle for his armada. An attack on some French admiral named de Grasse.”

Nick refolded the paper and stuffed it into his pocket. He'd go over the charts carefully with Gunner in the morning. At this moment, he had no urge at all to take on the greatest pirate armada in all history. But something told him Blood's plans held some future importance for him. It was only a hunch, but he'd learned to trust those feelings.

Kate and Nick walked hand in hand along the Coast Road in the fading light. The road finally ended at a rocky path that led up to the lighthouse. The sun had set, leaving a bright orange band on the blue horizon. Nick had been quiet for most of the walk. He was carefully considering the words he might use to tell Kate what had befallen their parents. In the end, with the lighthouse clearly in sight on the cliff top, he chose to be completely straightforward.

“Kate, I'm afraid I've some more troublesome news. I've not had the chance to tell you, but I think you should know before we get home.”

She gripped his hand more tightly. “Know what, Nicky? We're home, aren't we? What could be better news than that?”

“It's about Mum and Dad.”

“What about them?”

“I'm afraid the Nazis have taken them away.”

“Taken them?” She looked up at him. “Taken them where?”

“Not far away. Just over to Guernsey.”

“Why on earth would they do a thing like that?”

“An investigation. They took many of our neighbors, too. They're looking for that German soldier we found in the tree. They think someone on the island has murdered him and is covering it up.”

“But it's not true!”

“Of course it's not. It's just that I wanted you to know they might not be home when we get there, that's all. If they're not, I don't want you to worry. I've got a new friend over on Guernsey who can help us. We'll get Gunner to run us over in his motorboat and visit her in the morning. She'll have them home in jig time.”

“Oh, Nicky!” Kate cried. She turned and ran up the steep path to their front door, calling out for her parents. She flung the door open and burst inside, Nick right on her heels, a minute behind. Strangely, Nick thought, all the lights were off in the house. A single candle was flickering on the kitchen table. Nick saw his mother seated at the table, holding Kate to her in a tight embrace. They both seemed to be crying.

“Mother, you're home!” Nick said, going to her.

“Yes, Nicky, I'm home.” Something was wrong with her voice. And her face. Her right cheek was badly bruised, he could see in the candle's light, and her left eye was black and blue and swollen shut.

“Mother, tell me what happened,” Nick said, sitting down at the table across from her and reaching for her hand.

“A Nazi soldier,” she said, looking up at her son and trying
for a brave smile. “When we were all being processed at Gestapo headquarters. He—he made some very vulgar remarks to me, said he had to search me and—and he—he touched me in a terribly improper fashion. When I raked his cheek with my fingernails, he threw me against the wall and hit me in the face. I must look horrible, mustn't I? I haven't had the courage to look in a mirror.”

“Those filthy Nazis!” Nick said, his face flushed with anger. “I'll get them, don't worry, Mother. I'll make them sorry for what they did, every last one.”

“It's all right, darling. I'm not badly hurt. But they are vicious brutes, and we shall all have to be very, very careful around them until this dreadful occupation is over. Luckily, we have someone on our side. A wonderful woman named Fleur de Villiers. She came to the hospital, to visit your father and—”

“Father's in hospital?”

“He'll be all right, Nick, it's nothing serious,” Emily McIver said. “When he saw that horrible soldier attacking me, he broke out of line and pulled the man off me. He did a lot more damage to the German's face than the German did to mine, you'll be glad to know.”

“But why is he in—?”

“He's in hospital because the guards hurt him badly, ripping him off the beast who'd been abusing me, beating him mercilessly. No broken bones, but he's horribly bruised. But he'll be out soon, possibly tomorrow. This friend of your father's is named Baroness de Villiers, pulled some strings with the German High Command. Your father had been arrested. After release from the hospital, he was headed straight to prison. But Baroness de Villiers took care of that easily enough. A few quiet words with the Kommandant and your father was a free man.”

“How did you get home, Mummy?” Kate asked. “The Baroness was kind enough to bring me home in her little steam yacht this afternoon, after I saw your father.”

Nick stood up. “I want to go to the hospital and see Father. Right now.”

“Nick, no. He's quite all right. They've given him some pain medication and muscle relaxants, and he needs his sleep. Anyway, I want you to stay as far away from these Germans as you can. Promise me that, both of you.”

“I
hate
Nazis,” Kate said.

“All right, Mother, I won't go near them,” Nick said, thinking of just how close he'd come to the Nazis lately. The patrols on the beach and in the woods the night he'd ditched the Camel. Nick hated lying and keeping secrets. And so he always felt a twinge of guilt when it came to his parents' lack of knowledge about his adventurous exploits. Especially about the existence of the Tempus Machina. But it couldn't be helped.

Only five people on the island knew of the machine. Kate, Gunner, Lord Hawke, Hobbes, and himself. Hawke had sworn them all to secrecy about the miraculous machine and its powers. And Nick, knowing first hand the dangers associated with knowledge of the golden orb, would never break that vow.

But he was determined, if nothing else, to help his country through this dark period of war in any way he could. That's what he had learned from Admiral Lord Nelson. Duty. Duty to country first. Everything else was secondary.

And he knew for certain that his mother would recoil at the danger he sometimes placed himself in. Why, she'd never again let him out of her sight if she knew even
half
the things he'd been up to lately. Until the age of about nine, when he'd learned to sail the little sloop,
Stormy Petrel
, that his father
had built for him, he'd been tied to his mother's apron strings. But there were no strings now, not a one.

Not since he'd discovered what a grand adventure life could be if you jumped in headfirst without fear and were prepared to take your knocks. Nick had two great heroes in his life: Winston Churchill and Admiral Lord Nelson. Thanks to the machine, he'd been able to help Lord Nelson in the year 1805. Nelson had personally pinned a medal for heroism on Nick's chest.

But shiny medals did not a hero make.

Only a lifetime of bravery in the face of danger, and a willingness to sacrifice all in the pursuit of one's sacred duty to country, would ever give him a chance of becoming a true hero.

Before a quiet candlelit supper, just the three of them sharing a shepherd's pie his mum had made, they all joined hands and said a prayer. They prayed for Father, of course, and they prayed for their tiny island's survival and ultimate victory over her invading enemies. And, finally, they prayed for dear old England, whose very future this night was far from certain.

“To bed with you children,” his mum said after supper. “I'll clean up the kitchen. It will give me something to do. School will be starting soon, and I don't think either of you has even begun your summer reading assignments. Katherine, you haven't cracked a book since June, have you?”

“Only
Black Beauty
.”

“Doesn't count. And you, Nick?”

“I've been a bit busy, Mother.”

“I don't care about old aeroplanes. I care about the education of the mind. And Nick, if you want to keep up your marks in history this term, I suggest you pull that big blue book
down off your shelf. It's not mere decoration, you know; it's meant to be read. Without the lessons of history, we'd all be savages. What are you studying this coming term?”

“Eighteenth-Century English history.”

“Should be enough excitement there to keep your eyes open. Off now, to bed with the both of you! With any luck, your father will be home tomorrow. I'm going to get up early and fill the house with roses.”

“Yes, Mother,” Nick said.

Nick thought there were still plenty of savages around in the Twentieth Century, but he kept that thought to himself as he climbed the stairs to his small bedroom at the top of the tower. He loved the study of history and actually looked forward to cracking the big blue book.

Mounting the winding steps, however, he realized he was desperately tired. Still, he would climb into his bed and delve into the stories of heroes and villains for as long as he could keep his eyes open.

An hour later, Nick McIver was still wide awake. He had opened that great door-stopper of a schoolbook, Fitz Hughes's
A History of England
, to a random chapter. It was the tale of George Washington's siege against General Lord Cornwallis's British Army troops at Yorktown, Virginia. Not quite random, he'd corrected himself. It was the date at the top of the page that had caught his eye. The year 1781, to be exact. Why, Nick had just returned from a brief but exciting holiday in the Caribbean in that very same year. That was why he had stopped at this particular page. And now he began reading the chapter feverishly.

The British, harried and pursued by Americans under the
command of General Lafayette, were well fortified on open ground, good fields of fire in all directions and their backs to the sea. There were 7,200 British soldiers inside the fortifications. On August 19, General Washington with 3,000 soldiers under his command, and his ally the French commander Comte de Rochambeau, with 4,000 troops, began their steady march to Yorktown for a showdown with the British and Cornwallis. Lafayette, with his 4,000 troops, was eagerly awaiting the arrival of Continental Army reinforcements.