The Time Pirate (47 page)

“True. Courage in a bottle, my friend Lord Hawke calls it, sir. The demon rum. I once saw Lord Hawke and Old Bill in a swordfight to the death. There was Blood with a sword in one hand and a jug of sugar rum in the other.”

“Our cowardly captain is likely now abed in his stern cabin at this hour? Stewed to a turn and dead to the world, perhaps?”

“I'd wager that's correct, sir.”

“We shall find out soon enough,” Lafayette said, and putting spyglass to eye, he scanned the main deck of the mammoth warship from stem to stern two or three times. They were rapidly closing on the darkened
Revenge
. Being spotted by a lookout now would prove disastrous. They'd be blown out of the water by short-range cannon before they'd crossed another hundred yards.

“Lookouts fore and aft,” Lafayette said quietly. “None up in the rigging. No sharpshooters. One fellow with a lantern headed aft, making his graveyard-shift rounds. He is paused on the quarterdeck now, having a smoke at the stern rail. Let's hope he stays there until we heave a grapnel hook up amidships and climb safely aboard.”

The men rowed ever so quietly now. Nick could barely hear the whisper of the blades in the water. This would be the most dangerous part. Should one of the watchmen see them, everyone aboard knew, death was certain.

Lafayette, speaking barely above a whisper, turned to face
his oarsmen. “Ship oars. Coast up and lay along her starboard side. Fend us off gently when we have her dead abeam. No noise.”

The oarsmen withdrew their oars, and the longboat, gliding silently now, approached the hull of the
Revenge
. Nick could reach out and touch the black hull now, and he did. One of the French Marines in the bow suddenly stood, rocking the little boat slightly. He had an iron grapnel hook, sheathed in hemp, and large coil of line in his hand, while another marine reached for a handhold on the hull and brought them swiftly to a stop.

“Now!” Lafayette hissed.

The marine swung the hook in a great arc and flung the grapnel arrow straight up the side of the
Revenge
. Nick was astounded at the accuracy of the throw. It caught on the rail, with little noise, and Lafayette expelled a sigh of relief.

“Not a word, now, you men,” Lafayette whispered.
“Cinq minutes.”

The men sat still as stones for a good five minutes, barely breathing, waiting to see if someone aboard
Revenge
had heard or seen the grapnel hook catch the ship's rail. Nick held his breath. The only sound was the gentle slap of water against the great warship's hull. And the thudding of his heart.

“
C'est bien
,” the Marquis finally said. “
Allons!”

He stood up nimbly, and grabbed the dangling boarding line with both hands. “I will go first,” he whispered, “then the boy, followed by you marines. Oarsmen, when the last man has left the boat, shove off. Lay off about fifty meters. Keep your eyes open and your wits about you. Follow this ship at all costs, wherever the battle takes us. At my signal—this white handkerchief from the larboard rail—return to this boarding line at once. We will need to escape in a great hurry.”

And so the twelve began the long climb to the uppermost deck. Lafayette, Nicholas McIver, and ten very professional, battle-tested French marines, muskets slung over their shoulders. Nick could tell by their attitude and ease of movement that boarding an enemy ship in the middle of the night was something they'd done many times before.

Lafayette reached the main deck, grabbed the rail, and hauled himself up and over. He stretched his hand down to Nick and helped him board. They moved away from the rail as the marines appeared one by one, easily mounting the rail and dropping silently to the deck. After them, the gun crews ascended.

“Affix bayonets,” Lafayette said, and the ten soldiers quickly attached razor-sharp, dagger-shaped blades to the muzzles of their muskets. In the longboat, Lafayette had ordered that not a single shot was to be fired onboard until they had the captain, Billy Blood, in chains.

The odds were not in their favor. Eleven men and one boy against a ship manned by four hundred some-odd hardened pirates. But Nick was not overly concerned. He had surprise and the Marquis de Lafayette on his side in the coming battle.

Nick shuddered at the thought of marines using bayonets on the two lookouts. It might not be pretty, but it would be effective. At the Marquis's signal, five of the marines headed forward quickly but silently to kill the unsuspecting lookout at the bowsprit.

The other five headed aft to offer the same treatment to the stern lookout. Only one more threat remained above decks, the graveyard shift, and he was still standing at the stern, smoking his pipe.

Lafayette and Nick, moving in a low crouch, quickly made their way aft past the mizzenmast to one of the two sets of
steps on either side of the ship. Each led up the quarterdeck and the helm. The doomed man on the graveyard watch was still standing at the rail, smoking and gazing out to sea. Surrounded by the great fleet of the Brethren, he was no doubt dreaming of the untold treasure that would soon be his.

They mounted the portside staircase, taking care to use the leading edge of each step to lessen the chance of creaking wood. When they arrived at the top, Nick saw that the man remained at the rail, his broad back to them, peacefully enjoying his last bowl of tobacco.

Lafayette withdrew his gleaming dagger and held one finger to his lips. “
Attendez ici
,” Lafayette whispered. “You must wait here.”

Nick waited as told, watching the Marquis steal up behind the daydreaming lookout. As soon as Lafayette was within arm's-length of the man, his left hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of greasy black hair, yanking the lookout's head backward. Then he drew the dagger deeply across his exposed throat. Vocal cords instantly severed, the man made not a sound. The gush of blood spattering the deck was black in the moonlight. Nick shivered, thinking, This is war.

Lafayette carefully lowered the dead man by the hank of hair still clutched in his hand. He plucked the corpse's pipe, still lit, from his clenched teeth and hurled it overboard. After pulling a white silken handkerchief from his sleeve and wiping clean his blade, the Marquis de Lafayette turned to Nick and summoned him with a wave of the hand.

Just as Nick reached his new friend, he heard the ship's bell strike seven bells in the middle watch—half past three in the morning.

There was a tremendous amount of work to be done aboard
Revenge
before the burning red sun rose above the eastern horizon.

“Below now, sir?” Nick asked.

“Below.”

Nick followed the Marquis, knife in hand, as he dashed across the quarterdeck, descended the starboard staircase into the dark bowels of the ship and the great after-cabin of Captain Blood.

B
lood was out cold. He could have passed for a snuffed candle, save for his snoring and snorting like a wounded bull. Mouth agape, unconscious upon the velvet-cushioned banquette that curved under the great stern windows, dead to the world.

Nick could see pale starlight shimmering on the wine dark sea beyond those mullioned windows. The brightness of the sky made him worry for Valois. The young lieutenant's mission was vital. Risky enough on a dark night but extraordinarily dangerous under the glow of a scattering of stars. To slip unseen through the huge fleet, going from ship to ship planting bombs was not work for the unlucky or the faint-hearted.

Valois would need luck indeed, bags of the stuff.

“Nicholas,” Lafayette whispered, “I will need something to bind the captain's wrists and ankles to these posts. A bit of line would be ideal, but belts, scarves, anything will do. Look in his wardrobe, quickly.”

Nick opened the twin doors of the large piece of mahogany furniture and found it full to overflowing with every kind
of frippery and finery. Blood was famous for his fanciful manner of dress, and there were many silken scarves to choose from. Nick grabbed a handful.

“Here, sir, I hope these will do.”

“Perfect. Bind his ankles tightly to the post. Use two or three scarves. I'll do the same with his wrists.”

Lafayette held his dagger clenched in his teeth as he bound Blood's hands. Should the madman awaken, he'd find a knife at his throat before he could summon help.

“Secure at that end, is he?” Lafayette asked. “He is, sir.”

“Fetch that jug of water on his worktable, please. It's time our fearsome Captain Blood woke up to reality.”

Nick did as asked, and the marquis upended the brimming silver carafe, dousing Blood's face with a torrent of cold water. Sputtering and cursing, he came fast awake. “What? What? Who—dares—?” he said, slurring his words. Still drunk, Nick thought, but he'd get over that in a hurry.

“Silence, if you please, Captain,” Lafayette ordered, placing the dagger's tip to Blood's throat and adding, “Do I make my point, sir?”

“Aarrrgh,” mumbled Blood.

Then, to Nick, Lafayette said, “Light a lantern, Nick, so that the captain might better see his current predicament.”

Nick found the lantern match and lit the oil lamp suspended above Blood's head.

“Allow me to introduce myself, Captain Blood. I am Marie-Joseph-Paul-Yves-Roch-Gilbert du Motier. Also known as le Marquis de Lafayette. But you may simply address me by rank. General Lafayette. But speak softly, I warn you, or you'll speak no more.”

“I'll have yer bloody head, you French dog,” Blood said through clenched teeth. You could see murder in the pirate's eyes, but when he went for Lafayette's throat, he encountered the multicolored silk scarves that bound his hands to the post. Next, trying to lash out with his legs, he noticed the same problem with his ankles.

Blood writhed in frustration, twisting, thrashing, and straining against his unforgiving bonds. “
You!
” he hissed. Catching sight of Nick's hated face in the flickering lamplight, his face darkened to a deep, furious scarlet. Just the sight of his eternal nemesis aboard his ship was more than he could take. Nick thought Blood looked like he might have a seizure. Maybe even pop an artery or two.

“You damnable boy! Back again, are ye? You tricked me well in Port Royal, aye. But I'll cut out yer lyin' young tongue and spit on yer bleeding grave afore I'm finished with ye.”

“A pleasure to see you again as well, Captain,” Nick said, bowing slightly from the waist.

“You're in a pickle, Captain Blood,” Lafayette said calmly. “And I'll warrant there's but one way out of it for you.”

“Say what yer after and get off my ship or I'll—”

“You'll what, sir?”

“Call my guards and have you both strung by yer scrawny necks from the highest yardarm.”

“Your guards, you say? Dead or dead drunk, I'm afraid. Including those two sleepy laggards you'd posted outside your door. They went peacefully enough under the knife, though. Died in their sleep.”

Some of the fight went out of him then. He realized his situation was dire and said, “Name your price. What do you want of me, Frenchman?”

“Your ship, sir, the
Revenge
.”

“My ship? You're mad.”

“Actually, I'm not,” Lafayette said, pulling his pistol from his waistband and placing the muzzle between Blood's bloodshot eyes. “You shall do exactly as I tell you to do, and perhaps I'll show you mercy. But hesitate or show duplicity, and it's a lead ball to your pickled brain, Captain Blood. Tell me: Do we understand each other?”

“Aye. Get on with it, then. Speak yer piece.”

“In addition to four of my best gun crews, even now preparing your own cannon for firing, a large number of my most seasoned marines now await me on your main deck. Crack shots, all heavily armed, muskets, pistols, pikes. They will accompany you and me on a search from one end of this ship to the other, beginning in the crew quarters.

“Search as you please. Ye'll find no booty aboard
Revenge
.”

“It's not your treasure we seek. You will order your entire crew to peacefully throw down their arms lest you be killed where you stand. When this is accomplished, when all your crew's weapons are heaved overboard, you will then order your men to move peaceably into the largest of the for'ard holds. There the entire crew shall remain under guard, lock, and key for the duration of the coming action. Any attempt at resistance will result in instant death for you and them. Is this all quite clear, Captain?”

“Aye,” Blood said, and Lafayette studied him carefully. He was no buffoon and would require constant vigilance.

“Cut him loose,” Lafayette said to Nick. Nick pulled out his bone-handled knife and sliced through the bonds he'd tied with one swipe. He then moved to free the hands, and Blood saw the knife in Nick's hand.