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  “Well?” inquired Marianne, who was sitting across from her on a beautiful silk-covered chair, working away on her needlepoint.

  “The race is about to begin,” announced Lady Lockwood.

  Marianne grinned and set down her tapestry. “Shall I go and ready the others?”

  “Yes, my dear,” smiled Lady Lockwood. She rubbed her hands together briskly. “Goody, goody! I’m in the mood for some sport tonight.”

  17

  THE CAPTAINS’ RACE

  Smiling gracefully at the many well-wishers around her, Cheng Li took her seat in the stands, grateful to find a familiar face waiting in the neighboring seat.

  “Hello, Connor,” she said. “Mind if I sit next to you?” she asked though the seat already had her name on it.

  “Be my guest,” he said with a smile.

  As she sat, Cheng Li opened the race program she’d received from one of the juniors.

  “Now,” she said to Connor, “I assume you know how this works?”

  “Ten captains, in an eighteen-foot skiff, each with two assistants,” Connor said. “It’s a race out to Spider Island in daylight and a race back in darkness. First skiff back wins.”

  “Very good,” Cheng Li smiled. “You’re a quick student.”

  “I learned from the very best,” Connor said, turning to watch as the captains and their crews took to the water.

  Jacoby gave him and Cheng Li a thumbs-up before escorting Lisabeth Quivers down to their skiff. They were accompanied by one of Jacoby’s mates, Bastian, the last of their crew. Connor smiled. Leave it to the unorthodox Captain Quivers to have nabbed the strongest lads in the graduating class as her assistants!

  Jasmine was already seated inside her skiff, alongside a guy Connor vaguely recognized from his first visit to the academy. Aamir, that was his name. They were both listening intently as Captain Platonov gave them his final instructions.

  Across the harbor, Commodore Kuo seemed in amiable form as he chatted to his two young assistants, Zak and Varsha. Kuo exuded the confidence of the headmaster and the race favorite, but he had to know that you couldn’t be complacent with nine other former pirate prodigies all hell-bent on glory. Connor’s eyes scanned the remaining captains’ faces: René Grammont, Francisco Moscardo, Apostolos Solomos, Kirstin Larsen, Floris van Amstel, Shivaji Singh, Wilfred Avery. Together with Kuo, Quivers, and Platonov, these were ten of the most celebrated captains of all time. Each one a legend.

  One day, Connor thought, one day, I’ll join them. He smiled and turned to his side. Cheng Li was staring out at the harbor even more intently than he had been. He thought he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  As the six o’clock cannon sounded, the ten boats and their crews flew into action. Immediately, Connor was transfixed and wished he was out there sailing with one of the teams.

  “They’re so fast!” he exclaimed to Cheng Li as he watched the small vessels skimming across the harbor.

  “Better believe it!” Cheng Li said. “The eighteen-footer is the ultimate sailing boat. Its flat hull means there’s almost no resistance in the water.”

  Captain Singh’s boat led the fleet. Commodore Kuo was in second position, followed a length behind by Captain Grammont. Captains Solomos and Moscardo jostled for fourth place. “They’re getting awfully close, aren’t they?” Connor said.

  Cheng Li laughed. “Apostolos and Francisco are archrivals. But they’d better clear some space between them or they’ll take each other out of the race. It’s happened before!”

  The boats had gained speed so swiftly that most of the crowd were already reaching for their binoculars to monitor the race’s progress as the fleet raced out toward the stone arch marking the boundary of the academy harbor. Looking through his own binoculars, Connor saw Captain Quivers and her team making good progress. To prevent the eighteen-footers from capsizing, the crew had to use every ounce of their weight strategically, leaning out far over the side to achieve an optimum position. Connor hadn’t seen Captain Quivers in action before, and he was surprised by how agile she was. With Jacoby and Bastian supporting her, she looked like she had a very strong chance at victory. Good luck to them!

  He searched through his viewfinder for Jasmine. There she was! Captain Platonov’s boat was trailing a few lengths behind the leaders, but they were gaining fast. Connor watched Jasmine letting out the spinnaker.

  “Look at Jasmine go!” Connor cried.

  “Yes,” said Cheng Li. “You see what she’s doing? The spinnaker is like a wall of silk. You need as much of its surface as possible to connect with the wind. That way, the skiff can sail just as fast as the wind is blowing.”

  They both watched as, thanks to Jasmine’s prowess, Captain Platonov’s skiff zipped up to the leaders just as they reached the arch. They gained a good angle and overtook Captain Singh in second place. But there was no catching Commodore Kuo yet. His skiff had already darted through the arch. If he kept up this pace, it would be impossible to catch him. Connor could no longer make out the expression on the headmaster’s face, but he knew that Kuo wouldn’t be complacent, even with such an early advantage. There was plenty of this race to go.

  Suddenly, there was a huge gasp in the crowd, followed by a communal sigh. What had happened? Connor dropped his glasses for a moment, scanning the full scene out in the harbor. One of the boats was languishing far behind the others, dead still. But which one was it? Lifting his binoculars again, he zoomed them straight into the irate face of Kirstin Larsen. He watched as the captain dropped her head into her hands.

  “That’s Kirstin out of the race, I’m afraid,” sighed Cheng Li. “Forced out by a broken spinnaker pole. She won’t be happy about that. But it could happen to anyone. It’s a tough northeast wind this evening. They’re going to encounter big seas on the way out to the island and back.”

  Connor watched as a rescue craft set out to assist Captain Larsen and her crew. He noticed that several other vessels were also taking to the water. “Are those more rescue boats getting prepared?” he asked. “Just how dangerous does this race get?”

  “No.” Cheng Li shook her head. “They’re not rescue boats. They’re scouts going out to light the fire beacons, to guide the boats home during the second half of the race. They’ve been waiting for some clear distance so they don’t get in the way of the competitors.”

  “Ah!” Connor turned his focus back to the race, watching as the final two skiffs, those belonging to Captains Avery and van Amstel, sped toward the arch. As they swept through to the other side, it was no longer possible to distinguish one vessel from another. The leaders were out in the open ocean, and the fleet was starting to fan out as the captains embraced the wider channels open to them. Connor wished he could continue to follow the race, but short of flying overhead there was no chance of that.

  “What do we do now?” he asked, setting down his binoculars.

  “Oh, there’s plenty to keep us entertained until the skiffs return,” Cheng Li said. She turned over her program and tapped it. “Up next is a combat demonstration from the reception class, then the second years will perform a short play inspired by the history of the Pirate Federation. Then it’s the third years’ turn, and then we break for supper. By then, the skiffs should have made it to the island and be turning back. That’s when things really start getting exciting.”

  After the combat demo (quite impressive actually), the play about the Federation (a major snooze), and the third years’ performance of an original shanty (no comment!), Connor was more than ready for the supper break. He accompanied Cheng Li up the hill to the terrace, where an array of tempting food had been set out for the academy students and their VIP guests.

  Connor noticed that a row of telescopes lined the terrace. “Take a look!” Cheng Li said. “They’re very high tech. You might just be able to catch one of the boats beginning its return now.”

  Connor pressed his eye to the telescope and searched for signs of life out at sea. All he could see we
re the blazing fire beacons lit by the scouts. As the sun fell away and the day slipped into twilight, the fires seemed to blaze brighter and brighter.

  “Nothing yet,” he announced, stepping back from the telescope.

  “Oh, well,” Cheng Li said, passing him a plate. “Better stock up on protein then.”

  Connor needed little encouragement. He hit the buffet with a vengeance, while Cheng Li found herself suddenly surrounded by well-wishers. As Connor piled his plate high, he watched her chat with each and every one of them, from a gaggle of overexcited juniors to a doddery old pirate intent on joining her crew. She dealt with all of them with equal grace and enthusiasm. She was in fine form. It was her big day, and it was good to see her enjoying it. All in all, Connor had never seen her so happy and relaxed.

  For the boats pelting toward Spider Island, there was no time to relax. The seas were as big as Cheng Li had predicted, and a momentary lapse in concentration could prove very costly. Commodore Kuo was still enjoying a healthy lead, but this did not stop him from urging his crewmates to work harder and faster.

  “Come on!” he cried. “Give me everything you’ve got! And then more!”

  “Aye, aye, Captain!” cried Zak and Varsha in unison, throwing their weight once more out to the side.

  Commodore Kuo laughed. “We’ve left Singh and his crew in the dust! At this rate, we’ll be back at the academy before they finish supper!”

  “Stay focused, Jasmine!” Captain Platonov commanded. “You, too, Aamir. We’ve had some bad luck so far, but we can still catch up and win this.”

  Jasmine nodded, her face as determined as that of her captain. Her hands had been burned by the force of the ropes. The pain was intense, but she pushed it to one side. Nothing mattered at this point besides gaining on the leaders.

  “Isn’t this marvelous?” Captain Quivers beamed at Jacoby and Bastian as they leaned out, riding the crest of a wave. “I just adore the Captains’ Race. I really should get back out on the oceans more often.”

  Jacoby laughed. “Makes a change from knots class, eh?”

  “Indeed it does,” said Captain Quivers. “So, tell me, are you excited about becoming deputy captain of the—” Her words were drowned out as a tall wave threw water all over them. In spite of the drenching, Captain Quivers merely whooped and waited for Jacoby to answer her question.

  He grinned back at her. “Can’t wait!” he said. “I truly cannot wait!”

  Out at Spider Island, the Vagabond idled in the dark waters. The sun had finally set, and Lady Lockwood and several members of her crew took to the deck. Most of the sailors were simply relaxing and enjoying the fresh air and the promise of night. Lady Lola stood alone at the prow of the ship, her antique binoculars trained across the ocean.

  Arriving at the captain’s side, Marianne gave a light cough. “You requested a pot of tea, Captain,” she said.

  Lady Lockwood lowered her binoculars and smiled to see the fluted silver tray that rested on a small table nearby. “Mother’s silver tea tray,” she murmured with some pleasure.

  The tray was set not only with a silver teapot and a china cup and saucer and matching milk jug but also with a proper tea strainer and its rest. Lady Lockwood was, as her crew had come to know, exceedingly particular about how she took her tea.

  “Shall I pour?” offered Marianne. “It has steeped for three minutes exactly.”

  “Very good,” said Lady Lockwood with a nod.

  Carefully, Marianne lifted the teapot and strainer and poured the honey-hued tea into the china cup, which was decorated with a quaint scene of shepherds and lambs gamboling on a riverbank. Nestling beside the cup and saucer was the matching china milk pitcher. It was not, however, filled with milk. Lady Lockwood preferred something a little stronger in her tea. Marianne, who was well versed in these matters, lifted the jug and poured a precise measure of the liquid into the cup. A swirl of crimson cut through the golden tea. Marianne placed a silver teaspoon on the saucer and passed it to Lady Lola.

  “Thank you, my dear,” said Lady Lockwood with a smile. She gave the cup a stir, then lifted it to her nose and inhaled its aroma. “Nectar,” she murmured. She took the cup and drank down the liquid.

  “Would you care for a second cup, Captain?” asked Marianne.

  Lady Lockwood shook her head. “Watch this,” she said. “I think it might rather amuse you.”

  Intrigued, Marianne stepped closer. She watched as Lady Lockwood lifted the empty teacup and saucer in one hand, and with the other, stirred the spoon once more. Marianne was puzzled. No liquid remained inside the cup.

  “No, my dear,” said Lady Lockwood. “Don’t watch the cup.”

  Whatever did she mean? Marianne turned her head. As she did so, she heard the sound of rustling branches above. The trees lining the island had started to blow in the ocean breeze. It sounded as if a storm might be approaching.

  As Marianne stood there, she felt the breeze grow stronger. She glanced at Lady Lockwood, whose trance-like face was fixed out to sea as she continued to turn the silver spoon round and round in the china cup, faster and faster.

  Marianne watched, amazed, as the waters beyond the ship grew choppy, then began swirling and spitting like a miniature maelstrom.

  “That should just about do it,” Lady Lockwood declared at last, setting the spoon back on the rim of the saucer.

  Marianne pointed out to the swirling ocean. “You did that,” she said, “didn’t you?”

  Lady Lola nodded, smiling. “It’s a little trick I’ve grown rather clever at. I call it my storm in a teacup.”

  “But what’s it for?”

  Lady Lola grinned. “Watch and wait,” she said. “Not much longer now.”

  18

  SPIDER ISLAND

  The eighteen-foot skiff captained by Commodore Kuo was caught in the heart of the maelstrom.

  “Captain, the sea’s getting rougher and rougher,” cried Zak.

  “I know,” called Commodore Kuo. “But we’re nearly at the island now. I can see the fire beacon.”

  “The boat’s out of control,” Varsha shouted, gripping so tight on the ropes that her hands were red and raw.

  “Focus!” commanded Commodore Kuo. “We’ve hit an isolated spot of aquatic turbulence, that’s all. We can ride it out!”

  Varsha’s eyes were as red as her hands and stung from the constant assault of salt water. Why couldn’t Commodore Kuo admit that they were in trouble? Big trouble!

  “Captain, look!” cried Zak. “Ship to starboard!”

  John Kuo turned. A moment too late. The eighteen-footer crashed into the hull of the pirate galleon. The vessel seemed to have come out of nowhere, perhaps due to the raging ocean and the thick sea-mist that hugged the waters close to the island.

  “Pull her around!” Commodore Kuo cried.

  “We’re trying!” answered Varsha.

  “Captain, look at the spinnaker pole!”

  Three pairs of eyes glanced up at the pole, which had rammed into the ship. They had all watched from a distance as Captain Larsen’s spinnaker pole had snapped and forced her out of the race. Now they watched as their own pole fractured before their eyes. They had lost any chance of finishing the race.

  “Are you in trouble?” A woman’s concerned face appeared at the side of the ship and called down to them.

  “Yes,” answered Commodore Kuo. “I’m sorry, but we’ve crashed into your ship. I don’t think any damage has been caused to your vessel.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” came the soothing answer. “How about your boat?”

  “Our spinnaker pole is broken. Other than that, I think we’re okay. We got caught in a sudden maelstrom out there.”

  “Yes, we saw you. You fought it as hard as you could. Sometimes the elements are just too strong.”

  “Captain!” Zak said. “I think the skiff is sinking.”

  Commodore Kuo turned. The small boat was letting in water. The collision must have caused more damage
than had first been evident.

  “You had better all come up,” said the voice from above. “Can you reach the ladder, or should I send help?”

  “We can reach,” said Varsha, her hands already stretching out toward the steel ladder that led to the ship’s deck.

  “But our skiff,” protested Commodore Kuo, “the race.”

  “The race is over, Commodore Kuo,” said Zak sadly, following Varsha onto the ladder. He watched as the skiff slipped farther into the dark water. Commodore Kuo was still holding on to his dreams of victory.

  “Come on, sir,” implored the voice from above. “Come up with your comrades, and we’ll take care of you.”

  Shaking his head sadly, Commodore Kuo reached for the ladder just in the nick of time. The skiff ducked deeper into the ocean and swiftly disappeared from view.

  As the three wet pirates climbed onto the deck, the ship’s captain, flanked by her two deputies, hastened to meet them. “Welcome to the Vagabond,” she said. “I’m Lady Lola Lockwood, and these are two of my crew, Marianne and Angelika.”

  “I’m Commodore Kuo, headmaster of the Pirate Academy. And these are my students Zak and Varsha. We’re competing in a race.”

  “So you said,” answered Lady Lockwood, nodding her head sadly. “What terrible bad luck that you got caught up in the freak weather out there.”

  “It’s called the Captains’ Race,” said Commodore Kuo. “It runs every time the Federation appoints a new captain. All the captains who work at the academy command an eighteen-footer. Well, you’d know about all this, of course, being a pirate captain yourself.”

  Lady Lockwood smiled indulgently. “Oh, but I’m not a pirate captain, Commodore Kuo. This isn’t a pirate ship.”

  “It isn’t?” said Commodore Kuo, glancing up the mast and seeing that the flag did not bear, as he had first thought, a skull and crossbones, but instead a design not unlike a playing card. “What kind of ship is this?” he asked.