Demons of the Ocean Page 16

“Quite, quite. By the time the Dawning Bell sounds, we shall all be reborn.”

  “Yes, indeed. Bring on the donors, say I, and not a moment too soon!”

  This latest mention of the donors was enough to propel Grace, at last, toward her cabin. As she opened the door, she found Lorcan already waiting for her, a book in his hand. Had she really kept him waiting so long?

  As she closed the door behind her, he looked up and shut the book, too.

  “Tell me about the Feast,” she said.

  Unsurprised, he nodded and indicated that she should pull up a chair.

  28

  THE DIVIDING OF THE SPOILS

  The deck of The Diablo was crowded once more. And this time, it was not just full of people. The returning pirates had spread out the booty they’d taken across the Three Wishes. It had been a good haul. There were heavy oak chests, their gaping mouths dribbling purses of gold onto the deck. There was fine jewelry, paintings and sculptures, ornate clocks, antique urns, gilded mirrors, crystal chandeliers, and all manner of fine things. The foredeck, Connor thought, resembled a street market — but one where the merchandise was unbelievably rare and precious and where you could be confident that nothing was fake.

  In front of the booty, like a jocular street trader, stood Captain Wrathe.

  The whole crew of The Diablo was gathered on the deck. The sixty pirates who had participated in the attack were at the front. Connor looked at his fellows. They were sweaty and grubby from their efforts, but exhilarated. They’d all been given flagons of water on their return. Connor had quickly drained his dry. Others, who had better paced themselves, were still drinking. A few poured the water over their heads to cool off and clean up at the same time.

  Captain Wrathe addressed his crew. “Well, my fellows, that was a cheeky victory, was it not? Well done, well done indeed. Let’s have three cheers for our military mastermind, Cutlass Cate!”

  He pulled Cate out from the crowd and Connor was amused to see how she blushed as the pirates cheered for her. He joined in, loudly, as did Bart, who couldn’t resist throwing in an extra whoop.

  “Today we saw a fine piece of teamwork,” continued Captain Wrathe. “All of you played your part and I thank you all. But I want to pay particular tribute to one brave young lad who fearlessly took part in his first raid today.”

  Captain Wrathe scanned the crowd for Connor.

  “Where are you, Mister Connor Tempest? Come up here.”

  In the middle of the crowd, Connor stood frozen to the spot until a firm hand propelled him forward.

  “Go on, buddy, up you go.”

  Then the rows of pirates ahead of him opened up to make way for him. The other pirates squeezed his shoulders and slapped him on the back as he walked forward.

  “Here’s the very fellow,” Captain Wrathe said. “Fourteen years old and a prodigy, nothing less than a PRODIGY!”

  The captain set his hand on Connor’s shoulder. Now all eyes were upon him and Connor could feel himself blushing furiously.

  “Let’s have three cheers for Mister Tempest, boys. Hip hip . . .”

  “Hooray!” cried the crew.

  Connor looked out at the sea of faces as they continued their cheers. It was an incredible feeling. He belonged.

  As the final cheer came, Connor felt a sudden sadness. He wished his dad and Grace could have seen him at this moment. He and Grace had always been outsiders in Crescent Moon Bay. No one but their dad had ever cheered for either of them. In spite of his considerable talents at sports, he’d never felt welcomed into a team. The other kids viewed him with suspicion as the misfit son of the reclusive lighthouse keeper.

  At last, he was part of a team. He looked at Cate and Bart, both of whom grinned proudly at him and cheered. Even Cheng Li clapped and nodded. He realized that they were not just his crewmates. They were becoming his friends.

  “Well, now,” Captain Wrathe said, as Connor stepped back to the ranks. “Our ship is pointed in the direction of Ma Kettle’s Tavern . . .”

  The cheering that followed this announcement was long and loud.

  “But before we throw ourselves upon the mercies of that merry lady and her kegs, we have business to attend to. We must divide up these spoils, must we not?”

  Connor fully expected Captain Wrathe to pick first, but the captain insisted that Cate step up ahead of him. Connor could see from Cate’s expression that this was unexpected and an honor.

  Cate briefly surveyed the vast array of items set out across the deck. Would she choose a fine set of jewels? Perhaps an ornate mirror? Or a painting of Old London, before the flood?

  Cate stepped over all of these items and selected a simple bag of coins.

  “Is that your best choice?” Captain Wrathe asked.

  Cate nodded.

  The captain did not try to dissuade her. He clearly respected Cate and the fact that she knew her own mind.

  Rubbing his hands, Captain Wrathe stepped forward and appraised first one treasure then another. Now he seemed like a confident buyer, checking out the goods before entering confidently into negotiation with a trader. But there was no trader here and no need to negotiate. The captain could choose whatever he wanted. The pirates clearly enjoyed this part of the ritual.

  “Look there, Captain. That’s a wondrous painting.”

  “No, I’d take the whale carving, if I were you.”

  “That’s a fine clock to set your time by!”

  After lengthy deliberation, Molucco Wrathe reached down and plucked a large blue sapphire from a chest of gems. As he held it aloft, there were roars of approval from the crowd. Connor had a feeling that the captain had never been in any doubt as to what he would select.

  There was cheering, then hushed anticipation as the next man came up to make his selection. And so the ceremony continued as each pirate in turn was invited up to survey the booty and take his pick from the treasures there. The whole process seemed as organized a ritual as the attack itself.

  Connor wondered how these practices had evolved. It was curious to think that a few days ago, he’d known nothing of this world. He’d overheard tales of pirate ships on the quayside and sometimes thought that he’d seen them from the lighthouse window. But now here he was — not just in their world, but part of it.

  But while he was starting to understand the pirates’ way of life, he wasn’t yet comfortable with all aspects of it. He could not forget that the treasures spread out before him had belonged to a wealthy man and his family. Was being wealthy in itself a crime? And was not being wealthy sufficient excuse for seizing another person’s property? Connor’s feelings were further complicated by the sense that Captain Wrathe himself appeared anything but poor. As Connor watched each pirate in turn carry away his treasure to a storage container on the lower decks, he had cause to wonder quite how poor even the most seemingly humble of the crew might be.

  “Come on, Mister Tempest, come and have a rummage.”

  At Captain Wrathe’s bidding, the pirates around Connor stepped aside to let him through.

  Reluctantly, Connor approached the spread of possessions. He surveyed the haul, casting his eyes across the clocks and mirrors and jewels. His eyes came to rest on a pile of books. Instantly, they made them think of his home in the lighthouse. His dad’s most treasured possessions had been his books. They had filled every shelf in every room, sometimes double-stacked and creeping up in stacks from the floorboards, too. Connor had never been much of a reader himself but he missed seeing those books around him every day. Maybe if he took just one of these books, it would bring him back a piece of his dad.

  He crouched down and lifted one of the volumes. It was a copy of Peter Pan. An old one with fine illustrations — not unlike the copy his dad had read to him and Grace. Connor flipped through the well-thumbed pages. The book came open at the front. There was an inscription.

  To my darling son,

  on his seventh birthday.

  With all my love, Dad.

 
Connor closed the book. It had been a gift from another father to his beloved son. It wouldn’t bring Connor’s dad back. Nothing could do that.

  Suddenly, Connor felt floods of anger that this book had been taken from the child it belonged to. Anger that he and Grace had been forced to leave Crescent Moon Bay without their dad’s possessions. Anger that their dad had been taken away from them. And Grace, too. This was too much, too hard. He could play at being a man — a pirate — but he was only a boy and he wanted to go home. Only there was no longer any home for him to return to.

  “What’s the matter, Mister Tempest?” called Molucco Wrathe. “Can’t find anything to tempt you?”

  Connor shook his head. Tears were pricking his eyes but he didn’t want Captain Wrathe or the rest of the crew to see him crying. He pushed through the crowd, desperate to get away.

  No one took much notice and the men were grateful to move forward an inch to gain a better sight of the goods. Finally, Connor broke free of the swarm of pirates and climbed up to the upper deck. He found a perch there, right at the prow of the ship. Beneath him, the pirates swarmed over the stolen treasures, looking more predatory than ever. Connor lifted his eyes from them and out over the darkening sky and sea.

  The beauty and peace of the scene made him lonely once more for the company of Grace. His dad had said she was coming back but it was hard holding on to that belief. How could he be sure he could trust that voice? Was it really that of his dead father, reaching out to him across time and space, or had he somehow conjured it up himself? As Captain Wrathe had suggested to him once before, had he confused what he felt with what he wanted to feel?

  Suddenly, Connor felt an outpouring of grief for Grace. All the emotions he had somehow kept tightly controlled now bubbled up furiously inside him. All was still and silent around him. But inside, his mind was turmoil and his stomach tied itself into a thousand angry knots. Was this a sign that Grace was dead? Was she letting go? What had happened? Had the Vampirates killed her? His thoughts and fears began spinning out of control.

  There had always been one surefire way to calm himself down. Connor closed his eyes and began to chant . . .

  I’ll tell you a tale of —

  He broke off and opened his eyes again. The old shanty no longer brought him any comfort. It only made him more anxious about Grace.

  Connor turned his eyes up to the star-filled sky. His thoughts settled upon the soothing memory of nights in the lamp room at the top of the lighthouse. Nights when the harbor was quiet and Dexter Tempest had settled his young twins on either side of him and taught them the names of the different stars and constellations. As Connor lifted his eyes to the heavens, he remembered how he and Grace had taken turns identifying them. He could hear their childish voices, chanting the exotic names.

  Aquarius.

  Aquila.

  Carina.

  Centaurus.

  Corona Borealis.

  Dorado.

  Eridanus.

  Lupus . . .

  “Here he is!”

  Connor’s reverie was interrupted as Bart and Cate sat down on either side of him.

  “We were worried about you,” Bart said.

  “I just needed some time to myself,” Connor said.

  Cate nodded. “You’ve had quite a day. And you’ve been through so much.”

  Though she had always been nice to him, this was the first time that Cate had really let down her guard.

  “Here, buddy,” said Bart, “the captain let us pick for ya.”

  Bart opened his palm and dropped a silver locket into Connor’s hands.

  “A locket?” Connor said, smiling and looking askance at Bart. “Is this a joke?”

  “It’s not for you, mate,” Bart said, completely serious. “It’s for yer sister. For when you see her again.”

  Connor was too touched to speak. He closed his eyes and gripped the locket tightly.

  “Yeah, well,” Bart mumbled. “It wasn’t just my idea. Cate and I thought . . .”

  His words hung in the still air.

  “We think it’s far too soon to give up hope,” Cate said, coming to Bart’s rescue.

  Connor nodded, feeling the tears starting to recede. “I won’t give up hope. I’ll never give up hope.” He unclasped the chain, slipped the locket around his own neck, and fastened it again.

  “Does that look weird?” he asked.

  “No, mate, it’s working for me.”

  “Not at all girlie,” Cate added, with a friendly shake of the head.

  “Best keep it hidden at the tavern, though,” Bart said. “There are wicked eyes and loose fingers aplenty at that place and they’d kill for a nice trinket like that.”

  Connor pushed the locket under his shirt. The metal felt cool and soothing against his heart. It seemed just the right place for it.

  “What is Ma Kettle’s Tavern anyhow?” he asked the others. “Everyone seems very excited about it, but I don’t know what to expect.”

  “That’s easy,” Bart said. “The only thing you can safely rely on at Ma Kettle’s is to expect the unexpected! It’s the place where every pirate crew in this region lets off steam, with good booze and bad company. Look there, buddy, we’re not far away now.”

  Connor followed Bart’s gaze. It was true. Out of the dark velvet of the sky, the shape of the coastline was coming into focus. A rocky outcrop, like a jagged piece of coal, loomed in the distance. Out of its darkness flashed a neon light, faint and small at first, but growing larger and stronger as the ship picked up speed.

  “That’s Ma Kettle’s,” Bart announced. “Best prepare yourself, buddy. You’re in for a night to remember.”

  Instinctively, Connor reached his arms around Cate and Bart’s shoulders. He was unbelievably touched by the gift of the locket.

  Inside his head, he heard his dad once more.

  “Trust the tide, Connor. Make yourself ready. I told you before.”

  “Yes, Dad,” he answered without opening his mouth.

  Then he returned to joking with his new friends.

  29

  DRESSING FOR DINNER

  “Why were you so cold to me before?” Grace couldn’t help but ask Lorcan the question weighing on her mind.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Grace hung her head sadly. “You know.”

  Lorcan was frowning, but his voice was soft now. “I was just trying to get Lieutenant Sidorio away from you. It would have been far better had he not seen you.”

  “Why?” Grace asked.

  “I’ve told you before, have I not, Grace? This is no ordinary ship and we are no ordinary crew. We may not look so very different from the likes of you, but we have needs you cannot comprehend. Now that you know for yourself what kind of ship this is, I’d have thought you might have been a bit more careful.”

  “Careful of what?” Grace said, preparing to play her trump card. “The captain told me I was in no danger.”

  “Really?” Lorcan’s eyes pierced deep into her own. “And I suppose he also told you to wander around the deck and introduce yourself to all the crew?”

  Grace blushed and dropped her eyes.

  “No, no, he didn’t.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “He asked me to return here before the Nightfall Bell. But I fell asleep in the galley.”

  Lorcan stared at her in disbelief.

  “You’ve been into the galley? Grace!”

  “Yes,” Grace said impatient at his tone. “The captain did say I could look around the ship as long as I came back to the cabin before the Nightfall Bell.”

  “But you chose to disobey the captain.”

  “No,” Grace said firmly, “of course I haven’t disobeyed the captain. They gave me some soup in the galley and for some reason it sent me to sleep. I must have slept for a long time because I’d only just woken when the bell started. Even then, I almost made it back here in time, but I ran into Miss Flotsam and she started talking to me
and I didn’t want to be rude and then, before I knew it . . .”

  Lorcan stood up from the chair and pushed it aside angrily. “Before you knew it, you were having a nice cozy chat with Lieutenant Sidorio?”

  “I would hardly call it a chat,” Grace said, taken aback by Lorcan’s aggression.

  Lorcan brought his hands up over his eyes, shaking his head despairingly, before dropping his arms again.

  “Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? We’re trying to protect you, but you’re not helping yourself.”

  “But what are you protecting me from?” Grace asked. “The captain himself told me I was in no danger.”

  Lorcan sighed, pacing up and down before her as he got his thoughts in order.

  “The captain is a fine man, and I would never do anything to flout his authority. He started this ship many years ago and gave me, and others like me, a haven from the darkest reaches of this world. And he looks after us, nurtures us, and gives us a peace we never thought to find again. He sees to our needs with our weekly Feasts. But,” he took a deep breath, “there are others on this ship who maybe don’t feel that way. They’d sooner not restrict their hunger to one feed a week. They’d sooner decide for themselves how much and how often. They think the time has come to do things differently. And the truth of the matter is, I’m not sure that the captain can make any guarantees for your safety anymore.”

  Lorcan looked sad and almost as shocked as Grace by his own words.

  “Until a short time ago, Grace, I’d never have even thought such things, but you’ve come to us at a time of great change and nothing is certain now. And here,” he prodded his chest, “here, where once I had a heart, I’m starting to think that the sooner we get you off this ship, the better.”

  Grace looked back at his pained expression. She realized she’d been wrong to ever doubt Lorcan Furey. He truly did seem to have her best interests at heart. But he was starting to scare her now. If he couldn’t protect her . . . If even the captain couldn’t protect her . . . Then what?