Vampirates: Dead Deep Page 2

  Connor slipped down from his barstool and walked over to the jukebox. He took a coin from his pocket and surveyed the music choices. There had to be something better than this racket! But as he flipped through the pages, it became clear that The Dirty Dolphin had just about every thrash-shanty anthem ever laid down, and not much else.

  At last, he saw a tune he quite liked—“Cape Cod Girls.” It was one of his sister, Grace’s, favorites. Song B17. Connor slipped his coin into the slot, raised his finger, and punched in B, then 1.… But before he had the chance to punch the 7, a long white finger crowned with a bruised nail jabbed the 9.

  “Hey!” Connor cried. His words were drowned out as the same thrash-shanty began blaring. Not again! Connor turned around, his face as dark as thunder.

  He was facing a tall, thin boy, not much older than himself, dressed in worn black leather. The boy’s lank hair was as dark as his clothes and hung low over his face, obscuring half of it. The half that was visible was pale and waxy, with a smattering of acne and a small purple scar. On his pale lips, a nasty cold sore had taken up residence. The boy looked positively vampiric, but as he opened his mouth, Connor was assailed by the stench of garlic.

  “What’s wrong?” said the boy. “Don’t you like my taste in music?”

  Connor shook his head. “It stinks,” he said. “As much as you. That was my money. It was my turn to choose.”

  The other boy grinned. “Should have been quicker, then, shouldn’t you?”

  Connor had had enough. He reached for his rapier, which hung in its sheath at his waist. Drawing the sword out into the light, he smiled at the boy. “I think I’m quick enough, thanks.”

  The boy seemed unfazed by the sight of the sword. He reached his own hand into his pants pocket and removed a switchblade, opening it up as casually as if it were a cigarette lighter.

  Connor shook his head, amused. “Going to fight me with that, are you?”

  The boy’s one visible eye looked into Connor’s with disdain. “Oh, I’m not going to fight you at all.” He clicked his fingers. Suddenly, two men appeared at his side. To call these guys “hulks” was to do them a disservice—they were huge. They, too, were dressed in worn leather. Each brandished a razor-sharp rapier.

  “Yes, Master Moonshine?” said one.

  “You called, Master Moonshine?” said the other.

  The boy frowned. “I told you to drop the ‘master,’ remember?” He turned back to Connor. “These two will fight you.” He raised his switchblade, extending the merciless point to Connor’s neck. “I’ll just swing in at the end to finish you off.” Connor winced. Moonshine smiled and stepped back, allowing his goons clear access to Connor. “Make it swift but painful,” he said to them.

  Connor stood in front of the jukebox, his mind racing. How come these big guys were commanded by this runt? And, more important, how was he going to get away from here with all his vital organs intact?

  He didn’t have to worry for long.

  “Step away from the jukebox!” boomed a voice. “That’s right, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, I’m talking to you!”

  Connor smiled. Bart to the rescue! His shipmate was standing behind the two thugs, his broadsword raised.

  But the thugs didn’t move.

  “Let him go!” rasped another voice. Connor saw that Jez had Moonshine in a half nelson.

  The poor kid could hardly get out his words. “Let him go!”

  At their master’s words, the henchmen backed away from Connor.

  “That’s it,” said Bart. “Nice and easy and my friend won’t spoil Moonstruck’s pretty face.” He smiled. “Though really, it could do with a bit of work, I think.”

  Connor let out a breath and gripped his sword, back in attack mode.

  “Right,” said Bart. “And now for the complex maneuver I like to call…‘let’s beat it!’”

  He hurdled the bar, with Connor and Jez hot on his heels. Moonshine’s goons were too surprised to give chase immediately. Instead, they turned blankly toward their master. Moonshine was bent double, hands on knees. Nevertheless, he managed to yell, “What are you waiting for? Get after them! Mess ’em up!”

  By now, Jez and Connor were through the bar doors and back out on the deck of The Dirty Dolphin. Bart was already halfway down the gangplank.

  “Phew,” said Connor as he and Jez caught up with Bart. “That was close!” He grinned. “One for all and—”

  A roar of fury from the deck interrupted him. The two morons were giving chase.

  “Come on, boys,” said Bart. “We’re out of here!”

  The three pirates ducked down onto the pier.

  Just then, something whistled past Connor’s ear. Dazed, he looked up as a circle of metal took root in the wooden pier, one step ahead of him. As he got close, he saw that it was a vicious-looking multipointed blade.

  “A starfish shuriken,” said Jez, grabbing Connor.

  “Where did it come from?” Connor asked.

  “Up there, by the looks of things!” Bart said. He pointed up to the deck of The Dirty Dolphin. There was Moonshine, his face almost luminous in the darkness. He raised his hand and, suddenly, another shuriken whistled through the air, aimed directly at their heads.

  “What now?” Connor asked.

  “What do you think?” Bart said. “RUN!”

  Connor needed no further encouragement. The three pirates raced along the pier as a third blade sailed over their heads.

  “He must be gaining!” Jez rasped as they ran. “Who is that guy?”

  “Trouble,” said Bart. “That’s who.”

  “Speaking of trouble,” Connor said, “what do we do now?” He pointed a few feet ahead to where the pier ran out. All that lay beyond was cold, dark water.

  “Quick! Up here!” Bart cried, hanging a right and racing up the gangplank of another tavern. Jez and Connor raced after him onto The Bloody Parrot.

  The tavern crowd turned as the three strangers thundered onto the deck. Suddenly, out of the throng emerged two familiar figures dressed in black leather—Moonshine’s men.

  “Of all the gin joints in Calle del Marinero…” cried Bart.

  “Now what?” yelled Connor as the thugs lurched toward them.

  “Follow me!” Jez cried, jumping up onto the side of the ship. He leaped over the edge, landing on the craft moored at its side.

  Connor followed and heard Bart’s footsteps behind him. There was no time to waste. Moonshine’s men were hot on their heels.

  “Keep running!” Bart called, racing across the deck. As he did so, he used his broadsword to cut through the sails and rigging to make their path easier. Confused revelers dove out of the melee and raced to the ends of the ship.

  A now familiar whistle hovered above them. Another shuriken!

  “Duck!” Bart commanded as the spinning blade shot past them.

  They had run out of ship again, but there was another tavern vessel moored next to this one. Together, the Three Buccaneers launched themselves over the side and onto the next boat. As they jumped through the air, Connor couldn’t help but smile. Even in the midst of danger, he was strangely enjoying himself—his best buddies on either side of him.

  But as they landed, there was no more time for smiles. Moonshine’s thugs were gaining on them once again.

  Bart sliced through the sails. This time, instead of racing away, the people on deck turned and drew their own swords, angry at having their party interrupted. The boys were getting some ugly looks. Connor could see the edge of the ship, but this time, there seemed to be nothing but ocean beyond. Had they really reached their journey’s end?

  He looked desperately at Bart and Jez, but they were equally flummoxed. Then two things happened: First, Moonshine’s henchmen arrived on the deck, drawing attention away from Connor and his buddies. Then, another shuriken sailed through the air and landed like a dart in the ship’s mast.

  “Jump!” cried Bart.

  As they sailed through the air again,
Connor readied himself for the icy waters below. Instead, he hit wood. They had landed on another boat, much lower and smaller than the ships on either side. And, Connor realized as he staggered to his feet, it was moving.

  Looking up toward the deck they had jumped from, he saw Moonshine’s men gazing down at them in frustration. Already, too much water had opened up between the ships for them to jump across. A final shuriken sailed through the air, missed its mark, and descended into the ocean—but not before spearing an unfortunate seagull.

  Connor let out a long breath. The seagull’s fate could so easily have been his.

  “That was close!” Jez said as he and Bart stood up, brushing themselves off.

  “Well, you guys certainly know how to make an entrance.”

  The voice was familiar. So, too, was the girl who wheeled her chair along the deck toward them.

  “Welcome to The Lorelei,” she said. “You know, I had a feeling I hadn’t seen the last of you.”

  Bart looked at Kally and beamed. “Aquamarine,” he said at last. “Definitely aquamarine!”

  Chapter Four

  The Lorelei

  “Couldn’t stay away, huh?” Kally beamed at the pirates. “Well, it looks like you’re with us for a spin out to the reef tonight.”

  Connor glanced around The Lorelei. A small windjammer, its hull sat low in the water as it rocked gently on the ocean. Its billowing lateen sails shimmered silver-blue in the moonlight. The boat was strung with lanterns, and there was the sound of chatter and soft, sweet singing. The deck, however, was much quieter and more sparsely populated than that of The Diablo or, indeed, The Dirty Dolphin.

  “Come and meet the rest of the crew!” Kally whizzed over to the center of the deck, coming to a standstill beside four of her crewmates. Like Kally, they were all in wheelchairs. They were gathered around an upturned chest, which was covered in playing cards.

  “Everyone,” Kally announced, “meet my new friends.” She beamed. “Three of the finest young pirates who ever roamed the ocean…if you believe what they say.” She winked. “Guys, this is Diani, Teahan, Lika, and João.”

  There was a lot of hand-shaking and high-fiving as they introduced themselves, and before they knew it, the guys were being offered drinks, quizzed about where they’d come from, and invited to join in the card game. Kally’s crewmates were clearly bursting with as much energy as she was. And they were all young and fit. Like her, they kept their legs bound tightly in oilskin bags, with only the upper parts of their bodies visible. And as they were dressed in a variety of tank tops and sleeveless shirts, it was easy to see that they were all strong, with the same well-developed shoulder and arm muscles as Kally. Connor certainly wasn’t about to challenge any more of them to arm wrestle.

  “Welcome, friends,” said João when everyone had a full glass. “Welcome aboard The Lorelei.”

  “Okay, you’ve met these reprobates,” said Kally when they’d finished their drinks. “Now it’s time you met Flynn.”

  “Who’s Flynn?” asked Connor.

  “Flynn,” said João with a smile, “is our esteemed captain.”

  Connor already had the feeling this was a rare kind of boat. No crew member would dare to say to a stranger arriving on The Diablo, “Come and meet Molucco.” He was always referred to as Captain Wrathe. But then, this wasn’t a pirate ship. And The Lorelei was far smaller than The Diablo.

  “How many people are in your crew?” Connor inquired as the pirates followed Kally along the deck toward the stern.

  “Counting Flynn, there are thirteen of us,” she said. “Unlucky for some, eh? As you can see, boys, The Lorelei’s not the largest of boats, though she suits us just fine.”

  Connor heard a sudden screech of wheels. One of Kally’s crewmates was racing down the deck, straight toward her. Connor winced, preparing for disaster, but at the last second Kally swerved, expertly avoiding a collision. “Happens all the time,” she said with a grin. “Any more wheels on board and we’d be gridlocked!”

  “How do you cope with the sails and rigging and stuff?” Connor asked as they moved past the central mast. “I mean…” He couldn’t work out the most diplomatic way to ask the question.

  “You mean from our chairs?” Kally said lightly. “Well, there’s a lot we can do from deck level.” She pointed over to where another of her crewmates was adjusting the tilt of one sail, manipulating the rigging from below with ropes as if they were the strings of a kite.

  “Nice one!” said Jez.

  They had almost reached the boat’s stern. Up ahead was the steering deck. The Lorelei had been adapted so that ramps replaced stairs to the raised platform.

  “I need a little bit of a run-up to this,” Kally said, spinning her wheels furiously before propelling herself forward, straight up the ramp.

  “Well, what do you think?” Bart asked the others.

  “It’s an awesome boat, isn’t it?” Connor said.

  “I’m not talking about the boat, doofus! I’m talking about Kally. Isn’t she amazing?”

  “She’s great,” Connor agreed, seeing a warning look in Jez’s eye. Bart caught it, too.

  “Look, don’t worry, guys,” said Bart. “It’s not like I’m going to do anything crazy. I’m just saying she’s a really cool girl, that’s all.”

  “Okey-dokey,” said Jez. “Then let’s follow her up to meet the captain, shall we?” He gestured for Bart to go first.

  Then Jez grabbed Connor’s shoulder and pulled Connor toward him. “Word to the wise,” he hissed. “When Bartholomew Pearce tells you he’s not about to do anything crazy, that’s a very good indication that he’s about to do something crazy.”

  Connor smiled. What exactly could Bart do? They were only having a tour of The Lorelei and a drink with their new friends.

  “Come on, slowpokes,” Kally called from the raised platform. “Or do I need to get you some wheels to keep up with me?”

  Connor and Jez marched up the ramp. They joined Bart as Kally wheeled forward to the very back of the boat.

  “Flynn, I brought some people to see you.”

  “People? What kinda people?”

  The first thing they saw was the back of Flynn’s chair. The support was carved to resemble the curve of a fish’s tail, disappearing into the waves.

  The captain turned to get a look at them. He was older than the other members of the crew, with a face weathered by the ravages of time and a lifetime at sea.

  “Connor, Bart, and Jez,” Kally said, “it’s my great pleasure to introduce you to Flynn, aka Captain of The Lorelei.” She dipped her head and smiled before adding, “Aka my dad.”

  Connor saw Bart straighten up a touch as he leaned forward to shake Flynn’s hand. As Connor shook hands with Flynn, he looked into the captain’s face and saw his resemblance to Kally. Like her, his eyes were blue—but they were a paler, milkier hue. In the moonlight, his hair seemed silvery-blue like hers but, at second glance, was actually pure white.

  Then Connor noticed something he hadn’t seen before. Though Flynn was in a chair with wheels on its feet, it wasn’t a wheelchair like the other members of the crew had. Nor was his lower body bundled, like theirs, into an oilskin bag. Instead, he wore coarse linen trousers, and his bare feet rested on the deck, quietly tapping a rhythm as he spoke.

  “He’s not disabled!” Connor exclaimed.

  At once, the others turned toward him.

  “Ahhh…I didn’t actually mean to say that,” Connor said, mortified that he’d spoken aloud. Bart’s face was thunderous. Connor turned to Kally. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything.…”

  Kally shook her head and smiled. “No sweat, Connor. It can be a minefield being around us. No, Flynn’s not disabled.”

  “Sir,” said Bart, changing the subject, “Kally said that this is a dive-boat?”

  “What?” Flynn said, his thoughts evidently elsewhere.

  “Diving, Dad,” prompted Kally.

  “Oh,
diving.” He twisted around once more. “Yes, yes, the kids love to dive.”

  Connor smiled at the way Flynn called the other crew members kids. Though Kally seemed to be the captain’s only actual child, he obviously took a similarly paternal attitude to the rest of the crew.

  “So, how did you get into diving?” Connor asked.

  “I come from a line of sailors,” said Flynn. “My father was a captain, and his father before him. Diving was always our business. There isn’t a dive spot from Cozumel to Christmas Island I don’t know like my own footprints. But when my Kalypso was born, things changed. She was different…special!”

  Flynn reached out a hand to his daughter’s cheek. She turned her face and softly kissed his palm. “Others would have sheltered her—kept her safe ashore—but that would have been like clipping the wings of an angel. My Kalypso…she may need wheels to move about on land, but in the water, she can fly.”

  Connor wondered what he meant by that, but Flynn continued. “We’re the kind of people who keep to ourselves,” he said, “but even so, word gets around. Others came to us, other exceptional kids like Kalypso. I took them aboard The Lorelei. It wasn’t hard to adapt the boat for them. They handle ninety percent of the sailing themselves, and I just step in when I’m needed. Which, to be honest, is getting less and less.”

  Kally shook her head. “That’s not true, Dad.” She turned to the others. “Dad thinks he’s getting too old to be captain—that he needs to retire soon.”

  She looked sad suddenly, and her eyes lingered on Bart for a moment. Then she smiled, changing the subject. “So, you’ve heard how we all came to be aboard. Now remind me, how did you three come to be here?”

  Bart looked embarrassed. “You might say we got into a little hot water after you left The Dirty Dolphin.”

  “Really?” Kally was clearly amused. “Well, we’re on our way out past the reef. We could turn tail and drop you back in the harbor, if you like. Or you could hang out with us awhile. We’re heading to a major dive site.”