Hook: Dead to Rights (Captain Hook and the Pirates of Neverland Book 1)
Page 14
An inviting hush fell.
Wielding the spell like a dagger, I drove humiliation into the heart of Kidd's ego. At the top of my lungs, I boomed, "Tell that coward Kidd to kiss his keister!"
Roaring with laughter, the crews of all five ships chorused, "Tell that coward Kidd to kiss his keister!"
Admiral Kidd's wounded bellow carried for miles. He charged to the prow, ramming his gut against the balustrade. When he blew, he frothed and stomped. "Damn you, Hook! Damn you! I'll have your head for this! I'll have you drawn and quartered!"
"Kidd, you simpering sand striker! You may kiss my—" What I said and did next was unspeakably rude and does not bear repeating. Afterward, I doffed my plumed cavalier hat and took a sweeping bow before my raucously cheering crew.
"I'll see you in Hades, Hook!" On Conquest, Kidd raged like a rabid dog. He charged across the fo'c'sle deck, shoving aside the dazed members of the gun crew to reach a carronade. While their leader ran amok, the crew looked on in confusion.
The admiral lit the fuse himself.
"Hit the deck!" I dropped, kissing the planks.
The entire crew followed suit, all except for Mr. Mullins at the helm. He hauled on the wheel and called, "Hard to port!"
"Aye! Hard to port!" In the tugs, the rowing crews bent to their oars with all-or-nothing fervor, and the towlines grew taut.
Conquest's gun boomed, spewing fire and smoke. A single ball passed harmlessly over Revenge into the ocean. The tugs kept at it. The towlines creaked and groaned, and the ship slowly turned.
"Stay down! There's another coming!" I repeated the warning as an explosive blast drowned out my voice.
The cannonball soared lower than the first. It struck a glancing blow to the foremast. My heart caught in my throat for fear the spar would fall, taking the sail and rigging with it. A shower of wooden shrapnel rained onto the deck below. Cinder and ash filled the air, but the foremast held.
I sprang upright and called the command, "Keep at it! Hard to port! Heave!"
"Ho!" the sculling teams responded, and row they did. I'd wager my life that not one pirate slacked off even for a second.
On Conquest, the ship was in disorder. While the enraged Admiral Kidd ranted at his gun teams to reload those two paltry forward carronades, the remainder of his crew stood in an idle daze. Their first mate dared approach his commander. Kidd struck the man across the face.
The tugs slipped into the Cook Strait riptide, and the powerful current caught hold. The choppy waters splashed over the sides of the boats, dousing the exhausted rowers. They collapsed over their oars. The towlines strained. Slowly, the current pulled Revenge along. Our progress was measured in feet, and I sweated every inch, looking over my shoulder at the devils on our tail. What if Kidd came to his senses or one of the corvettes' captains got it into his head to go rogue?
Conquest got off two more shots.
Thunder rent the air. In the dusk, the cannonballs streaked like fiery comets toward Revenge. The volley traveled a half mile, only to strike less than a dozen feet shy of their target. They plunged into the ocean and threw up a wall of water. The fringe of the splash rained across the decks.
Admiral Kidd turned his ship broadside, but by then it was too late. Revenge had passed out of range. Even Kidd wasn't quite reckless enough to enter the dangerous waterway in pursuit. We were safe.
I underestimated Kidd's madness.
By the final rays of day, Conquest turned and plunged headlong into the headwaters of Cook Strait. Mutiny among the mistresses, because none of those lovely ladies followed their flagship into the deadly shoals. Their commanders understood the peril.
Night fell, and we lost sight of Conquest. With her black sails and hull, Revenge disappeared against the moonless sky and opaque ocean. The atmosphere coalesced into a heavy fog; the funeral shroud to cover us. Securely moored on the swelling sea, we crouched, a fierce and wounded predator prepared to spring.
Revenge stood no chance of outrunning our foe, so we dropped the anchors and doused every unessential lantern. We moored the tugs and brought the exhausted rowers aboard. I called an all-hands meeting on the main deck, except for those manning the pumps. The bilge's constant grinding threatened to give away our location, but we had little choice if we wished to stay afloat. With luck, the sound would be drowned in the roar of the surf.
I stood among the men and women of my crew, the only family I'd ever known. We were all dead on our feet and stinking filthy. In a low voice, I said, "All right, this is the hardiest crew I've ever commanded. It's been a long haul, but we're not through yet. We're pressed for time, so I'll save the inspirational speeches till we're gathered about Diablo Tavern."
"Drinks are on the captain!" Beaver proclaimed. He was a former Lost Boy who had buckteeth and a flat tail, as his namesake implied. The crew chortled, sounding their approval in low catcalls and wolf whistles.
"Drinks are on the captain," I agreed readily. A smile curved my lips. If we made it out of this with our hides intact, the crew could drink on my tab for a month. "Admiral Kidd is still out there, hunting us. We can't outrun her or overpower her in an even fight. My plan is this: to use a decoy to lure Conquest into an ambush. We'll outfit the dinghy's rigging with an array of lanterns to resemble Revenge's profile from the stern and load it up with barrels of powder—"
"The dimensions won't be right," Mr. Smee said.
"It doesn't have to be right. Not in this fog." Cairstine Wright, my chief engineer, bobbed her head. Doubtless, the Scottish woman had already begun drafting a workable design for what I'd described.
I waved at Cairstine with my hook. "Make it happen."
Cairstine rigged the dinghy in record time, which only led me to the part I'd not been looking forward to. "The dinghy will sail due east with the current until Conquest gives pursuit. Then, the pilot must turn into the countercurrent and sail straight into Conquest. We'll shove a boatload of powder down her throat as she crosses our portside. Our cannons will catch her in a full broadside. Conquest will never know what hit her."
Tension crackled. Ominous dread hung over the crew.
Now the hard part. "I need a volunteer to pilot the decoy."
Mr. Smee sputtered. "Captain, it's suicide!"
"Make no mistake. The decoy will come under fire. Should the pilot make it into the water, the currents are treacherous. I'd go myself, except my singing will have attracted every mermaid for miles around. I must remain here to protect the ship."
"I'll go!" Mr. Mullins said in a rough voice. A reflexive objection built in my throat, because the man was too valuable to lose.
"No, I'll go," Beaver interrupted. "Not like anyone would miss me."
My chest constricted, but the sacrifice was acceptable.
"I'd miss you!" Christopher Robbins burst from the crowd. "No one has to die! I can pilot the decoy into the countercurrent, secure the tiller, and then fly above it...." He drew a deep breath and added his own improvisation. "I'll sing at the top of my lungs to make sure it's not missed!"
"Absolutely not!" Mr. Smee objected. "It's far too dangerous."
"Mr. Smee is correct," I said. "Artillery fire is deafening, Mr. Robbins. If you were distracted from happy thoughts, you'd fall to your death."
"Captain Hook!" Christopher drew himself up tall and proud. "I'm not a fool! This mission is dangerous, but I'm the only member of the crew young enough to still be able to fly. If you send anyone else, they'll die. I'll plug my ears with wax. I won't be afraid. Please, I can do this. Let me prove myself."
"I'll accompany him, Captain. I swear I'll keep him safe." Buzz placed his hand over his heart. His offer constituted an act of bravery in and of itself. When their wings got wet, pixies couldn't fly. If he landed in the ocean, he would drown.
The boy's courage persuaded me. "Very well, Mr. Robbins. You've earned your chance."
By the light of hooded lanterns, the seamen readied the hoist, attaching lines to the corners of the dinghy now outfit
ted as a decoy. A halo of fairy dust engulfed Christopher. Gazing on his innocent face, I suffered an inconvenient attack of conscience. Put bluntly, I preferred the stroke of a flail over the lash of guilt.
"Mr. Robbins..."
Christopher glanced up. "Yes, Captain?"
I dropped my hand to his shoulder. "Cling to your exuberance. Turn your back on fear."
He grinned with the confidence of youth. "I'm not afraid. Not at all! Why, I could fly straight home, right this moment. Blindfolded! Hands tied behind my back!"
Home.
His offhanded remark drove past my guard, a piercing pain. The majority of Lost Boys were taken too young to recollect their origins. By the time I caught them, most lads retained only a few hazy remembrances. Christopher, however, had clear memories of his home in England. At any point over the past couple of days, Buzz could've flown the lad to his family in the Otherworld.
It hadn't even occurred to me, but it gave me an idea...
Gruffly, I cleared my throat. "Just remember, Mr. Robbins, you are doing this not just for your captain, but for your mates and your ship. You are a full-fledged pirate now."
"Truly, Captain?" Christopher covered my fingers and gripped them. He smiled from the heart, looking at me with remarkable wonder. It made me believe... made me want to believe. Maybe, just maybe, even the reprehensible Captain Hook could be redeemed.
The maudlin sentimentality sickened me. I jerked my hand free from the boy's grasp. "Into the dinghy, Mr. Robbins. No time to waste."
Mr. Smee hugged the boy. "Godspeed, Christopher. Stay safe."
"Buzz, a quick word." I took the pixie aside and whispered, "If he runs into trouble with his happy thoughts, I have a plan. Listen carefully..."
Manned by its crew of two, the dingy was hoisted over the side. The wheels spun, the ropes unreeled. Once in the water, the current carried them away. We waited with nothing but the lap of the waves and the thump of the pumps to count the time.
A while later, we reaped our reward.
Brightness flashed across the skyline like balled lightning, and I felt the thunderous boom deep in my chest. Ravenous fire spread across Conquest. Hungry tendrils licked at the sky. A flaming figure dashed across the deck and plunged into the inky depths. Firelight illuminated the churning sea. The sailor surfaced and screamed, only to be yanked under for good. Fluked tails flashed above the waves. Those weren't dolphins...
My sisters.
"Weigh anchor!" I shouted, and the windlass cranked. The Cook Strait riptide swept us along. As we passed the doomed ship, I howled, "I am Captain Jayden Hook! Hear me roar! Fire!"
Our entire artillery battery roared, breathing fire and smoke. Conquest split in half and went down in flames. Admiral Kidd spilled into the water, cursing my name to the gods. While mermaids swarmed Kidd and his doomed crew, pulling them beneath the waves, I laughed cruelly. By all things divine, I hoped and prayed my laughter was the last thing he ever heard.
We spent the rest of the night bailing and making sure Conquest's wreckage didn't cause Revenge any trouble. I thought more than once about Mr. Robbins and Buzz, but my duties kept me busy. I hoped all had gone well, but at dawn we spotted a blot of red atop a rocky outcropping. We had to evict a pair of pushy sea lions from the tiny isle to recover the red scarf that'd belonged to Christopher Robbins. I wound the scarf about my hand and clenched my fist. My plan must have failed.
Mr. Smee’s voice warbled, “Captain?”
I shook my head. “It has been too long, Mr. Smee.”
Smee moaned and removed his cap, clutching it to his chest. “Oh, no, poor Christopher...”
And poor Buzz.
Grimmer than death, we got back to work.
By midday, we were underway again when Buzz dropped out of the sky and collapsed into a heap on the main deck. It made my heart gladder than I would ever admit to greet Buzz, but what of Christopher...?
The crew all gathered round. Carefully, I placed the exhausted pixie on my palm, and held him out so everyone could hear.
"What happened, Buzz?" I asked, and the crew strained their ears.
Buzz launched straight into a rapid-fire speech. "Sorry, Captain! It was like you said—all that noise and fire! Christopher started to fall, but when I told him I was going to take him home, you should have seen how he soared! But I've never been to England. We got lost twice, and Christopher insisted we stop to play in the clouds. After I delivered him to his family, I returned straight away but gosh, that's a long flight!"
Resounding shock rolled across the crew, then joy. No one spoke, but everyone smiled... except the captain, of course.
"Are you saying you discharged a crewmember without my permission?"
Buzz's eyes rounded and his jaw dropped. "But, Captain! You said to take him—"
"In my cabin, now, Mr. Buzz!" I bellowed and stormed across the main, heading aft. Pirates fell over themselves to clear a path.
I slammed the door behind me after we entered the great cabin and turned on Buzz. A wide grin split my face. "Well done, Buzz!" I poured us some mead and toasted, "To Mr. Robbins! May he live a long and happy life."
"To Mr. Robbins!" Buzz clinked his thimble against my tumbler and we drank.
"Unfortunately, I must shout and smash a few things now," I said, hefting a chair. "I hope you understand the necessity. I do have my reputation to think of."
Buzz grinned. "Of course! Would it help if I shriek and beg for my life?"
"Quite."
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About the Author
Melissa Snark is a fantasy and romance author with a particular interest in pirates, werewolves, and mythology. Her Loki's Wolves series combines elements of both in a contemporary fantasy setting. She lives in Northern California with her husband, three children and a glaring of cats.
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