“The navy sent me here to kill witches,” Scarfield said with disgust. “Now find me that wicked lass, or you’ll swing in her place!”
The soldiers saluted and scurried off, back into the crowd.
Meanwhile, from her vantage point behind the wagon, Carina panted as she caught her breath. When she had set sail for Saint Martin, she never expected to encounter that. How blind were those men, that their sole duty was to search for witches? It seemed to Carina that their job was more to control the population through fear.
Still, they meant business, and the last call had been too close.
Carina had her own business to take care of.
It was time to pay Swift and Sons Chart House a visit.
SWIFT AND SONS CHART HOUSE was a small shop, tucked in the back corner of a cobblestone street. For the most part, it looked like an ordinary store. Just a typical building facade with tall windows and a green-painted door. However, Carina knew it was the right place by the large golden telescope protruding from the back of the building—that and the crude sign tacked to the front.
SWIFT AND SONS CHART HOUSE
NO DOGS OR WOMEN ALLOWED
Carina ignored the sign as she quietly slipped inside.
Compared to the town square, the chart house was deliciously quiet. Clocks and chronometers ticked softly, marking the time, and astronomical diagrams and ship’s logs were piled all the way to the ceiling.
Carina gazed around in awe. Aside from Lady Devonshire’s observatory, this was the largest room dedicated to astronomy Carina had ever seen. And in the corner of the room stood a majestic contraption, still one of the most marvelous things in the world, to Carina’s mind: a telescope, situated by the window to face toward the heavens.
Carina approached it with great regard. But when she looked through the eyepiece, Carina frowned. Something was wrong.
The celestial fix was off by at least two degrees! To the untrained eye, it was only a slight discrepancy. But to an astronomer…
Carina glanced up at the maps on the walls, disappointed.
To an astronomer, it could mean a lifetime of work. How could the senior Mr. Swift never have noticed?
She had begun tinkering with the telescope’s mechanism when footsteps echoed behind her.
“No woman has ever handled my telescope!” someone cried angrily.
Carina whirled around to find G. W. Swift, Esquire, the owner of the chart house, standing in the doorway. He was a short man with a white powdered wig and dark arched eyebrows. He was not nearly as esteemed-looking as his son, Carina noted. But then again, she had never seen the younger Swift when he was angry.
“Sir, your celestial fix was off,” Carina explained. “I’ve adjusted two degrees north. Your maps will no longer be imprecise. Though you will have to start over with these.” She motioned to the maps framed along the walls of the chart house.
Mr. Swift stared at Carina incredulously. That was when he spotted the chain dangling from her wrist.
“You’re a witch!” he sputtered.
“Sir, I am no witch,” Carina replied, annoyed. Whatever hope she’d had that Swift would be as learned as his son had quickly disintegrated. “I simply made application to study astronomy at the university—”
“You what?” he exclaimed.
“Am I a witch for having cataloged two hundred stars?” she asked indignantly.
“Witch!” Mr. Swift repeated.
Carina was growing exasperated. She could feel her temper getting the best of her. Perhaps money would speak louder than reasoning.
“There is a blood moon coming,” Carina said shortly. “I simply need to purchase a chronometer. I’ll pay you double for selling to a woman.”
She held up a chronometer and several gold coins. Surely the man would not pass up the opportunity for quick money.
But to her surprise, Mr. Swift shakily pulled out a pistol.
“Help!” he cried, nervously aiming the gun at Carina. “There’s a witch in my shop!”
Carina gasped. He was going to shoot her!
Carina was about to dodge when, suddenly, a wild, dirty long-haired man toppled into the store.
She had only a second to take in his appearance, but that was all Carina needed. The man’s eyes were blackened with kohl about the rims, and his hands were adorned with countless tattoos and rings. He wore a dusty tricornered hat askew atop his head, and a beaded braid of matted hair coiled down his shoulder. From the man’s tattered captain’s coat and gold teeth and the bottle of rum in his hand, Carina quickly pieced together what he was, which was quickly confirmed by Mr. Swift.
“A pirate!” he screamed. “There’s a witch and a pirate in my store!”
The pirate looked around, eyeing Carina, Mr. Swift, and then the wall behind them.
“And a bank,” he pointed out calmly.
Before Carina knew what was happening, the pirate grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away just as an enormous object crashed through the chart house walls, splitting the store in two.
Carina watched in shock as the entire store was demolished. Charts, globes, logs—everything went flying. But the pirate didn’t allow her to stand for long. He dragged her along, and she gripped the chronometer tightly. Together, they began running.
Carina and the pirate sprinted through the streets, dodging legions of guards and soldiers, before dipping down a shadowed alleyway.
“It would seem you’ve brought the entire British army upon our heads!” Carina hissed.
“You appear to be popular with them, too,” the pirate replied.
Carina huffed. To be sure, this man had a swagger about him, as though he knew exactly what he was doing. She glanced down at the half-empty bottle of rum in his hand. No, it looked like it was up to her to find them a hiding place—and fast!
“Come on, this way!” she hissed.
A few moments later, a band of guards hurried down the alley. They didn’t even notice the two heads poking up like mannequins behind a line of formal dresses outside a tailor’s shop.
The pirate looked sideways at Carina and frowned.
“Were you part of the plan?” he asked.
Carina had no idea what “plan” he was talking about, but if it involved more soldiers chasing her, she was not interested. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
The pirate pulled a face of disgust. “What a horrible way to live.”
“I need to escape,” Carina said matter-of-factly. “Can you help me?” She wished there were somebody—anybody—else she could ask, but she found herself in a desperate situation.
The pirate mulled this over for a moment. “That man called you a witch. And witches are bad luck at sea.”
Carina groaned. Was everyone on Saint Martin so daft that all they could think of were witches?
“We’re not at sea,” she said.
“Good point,” the man replied. “But I am a pirate.”
“But I am clearly not a witch,” Carina whispered through gritted teeth.
“One of us is very confused,” the pirate said.
“By all appraisals, that would be you,” Carina retorted.
Suddenly, the sound of more footsteps thundered down the alleyway. It was Scarfield and his men. They had spotted them!
Carina held her breath. It looked like they were done for.
“Jack Sparrow!” yelled one of the guards as they approached.
“Would you excuse me?” the pirate, who appeared to be called Jack Sparrow, said to the soldiers. “I seem to have misplaced a bank.”
With that, he grabbed Carina’s hand and they raced away just as the soldiers opened fire. They ducked and dove past whizzing bullets, slamming hard into the entrance to a narrow staircase leading to the building rooftops. Without hesitating, Carina and Jack rushed up, up, up, stopping only when they reached the edge of the rooftop overlooking the alleys below.
“We’re trapped!” Carina cried frantically. “What do we do?”
&n
bsp; “You need to scream,” Jack said.
Carina realized what was about to happen a split second too late. She gasped as Jack Sparrow shoved her—right off the rooftop.
Carina screamed. She was falling to her death!
THWOOMP!
In a giant poof of dust, she stopped. She had landed in a hay wagon rumbling along the street. Carina looked up in fury at the figure of the pirate, slowly getting smaller and smaller.
“Filthy pirate!” Carina shrieked.
But she didn’t have time to waste on being furious. The guards had heard her scream and were closing in. She needed to find another escape route, or she would be captured again. And she was certain that this time they would make her chains pick-proof.
Carina looked left and right. A distraction…a distraction…I need a distraction!
Then she saw it—another wagon bumping down the narrow road, about to pass them.
She had only one shot; she’d need to time it perfectly.
With a swift kick, Carina slammed the back of her wagon open, releasing the rear loading ramp. Bushels and bushels of hay began tumbling into the street.
“Look out!” cried the soldiers, momentarily taken aback by the debris.
In that instant, Carina jumped over the sidewall and leaped into the wagon passing on the other side.
“Oof!” she cried, hitting the floor.
But her plan had worked. The guards were distracted enough that they hadn’t noticed her switching rides.
Both the hay cart and the one she had jumped aboard screeched to a halt. Carina ducked down low. She heard both drivers hopping down to speak with the guards.
“Where is the witch?” screamed Scarfield, irately sifting through the hay covering the ground.
“She’s vanished, sir!” said one of the soldiers. “An act of dark magic.”
“These are bad times,” another soldier commented. “First the boy washed ashore babbling of pirates and tridents. Now a witch capable of vanishing into thin air!”
“She may have shape-shifted!” another soldier exclaimed. “They can do that, you know. Transform into goats!”
“Into goats?” another soldier asked.
“Yes,” the first soldier said grimly. “Nasty goats.”
“Enough!” Scarfield kicked the hay. “I will have that witch’s neck if it is the last thing I do.”
Carina, meanwhile, barely dared to breath inside the wagon.
A boy washed ashore, babbling of pirates and tridents.
The timing couldn’t be a coincidence. With the blood moon coming, perhaps this boy was also seeking the great treasure. There was no way of knowing for sure. But so far, she hadn’t had much luck on her own. It would certainly be a relief to have some help on her quest.
If such a boy was on the island, she needed to find him.
The blood moon would arrive that night.
CARINA SCRUBBED THE FLOORS VIGOROUSLY. All around her, soldiers and nuns passed this way and that, carrying bottles, salves, and bandages. An elderly nun approached the bed just behind Carina and placed a hand on the forehead of the young man who rested there.
“Alas, poor Henry Turner,” the nun whispered. “I will pray for you.”
Though Henry was asleep, his hands were shackled to the bed rails. Carina noted his appearance. He couldn’t be much older than she was. His hands and face were covered with scrapes and bruises, and his forehead shone with fever. Still, Carina thought he was handsome. Tall, with skin tanned from the sun. And his light brown hair was swept back in a loose tie away from his chiseled features.
Carina pulled awkwardly at the neckline of her habit—part of her disguise as a nun. “This definitely does not suit me,” she muttered.
But she supposed it was the only way to speak to the young man who might be able to help her.
It hadn’t been hard to find him. Practically the whole town was talking about the mad soldier—the news of a ship gone down at sea and the sole survivor washed ashore, talking wildly of pirates and ghosts and tridents. Apparently, the only news that traveled faster in Saint Martin than stories of witchcraft was tales of the supernatural at sea.
But the whole town was also still buzzing with news of her: a young escaped witch with piercing blue eyes and the tongue of the devil. Carina had needed a disguise.
Suddenly, three soldiers marched into the hospital. Carina turned away. It was Lieutenant Scarfield, along with two burly soldiers.
Scarfield strode up to the young man’s bedside and gave him a rough shake.
“The whole town speaks of you,” Scarfield announced as Henry moaned, opening his eyes. “The only survivor of the Monarch—a boy who paddled all the way to Saint Martin on a piece of driftwood.”
Henry tried to sit up, but the restraints held him back.
“Sir, let me go of these chains,” Henry rasped, his voice dry. “I have to find Captain Jack Sparrow.”
Scarfield scoffed. “It’s my job to protect this island and these waters. Your sleeves have been ripped. The mark of treason!”
“We were attacked by the dead, sir,” Henry insisted. “I tried to warn them!”
“You are a coward who ran from battle,” Scarfield said. “And that is how you’ll die.”
Henry groaned and fell back to the bed, which elicited laughter from Scarfield and his men. As soon as the soldiers had stepped away, Carina hurried to the bedside.
“I don’t believe you’re a coward,” she said, handing him some water.
Henry took the water and drank eagerly. But as soon as he had finished, he turned away. “Please leave me, Sister,” he said.
Carina huffed. “I’ve risked my life to come here. To see if you truly believe as I believe—that the Trident will be found.”
At that, Henry’s eyes focused on Carina, and he saw her for the first time.
“Tell me why you seek the Trident,” Carina said, pressing him.
“The Trident can break any curse at sea,” Henry explained. “My father is trapped by such a curse.”
Carina frowned. She had hoped the boy would be a scholar of science, like her. Not a simple fool like the rest of the people on this bloody island. Was everyone there so blindly superstitious? Considering Mr. Swift, Henry, and the authorities trying to hang her, Carina was beginning to worry that traveling to Saint Martin had been a mistake.
“You’re aware of the fact that curses are not supported by science?” she asked.
“Neither are ghosts,” Henry replied.
Carina sighed. “So you have gone mad. The laws of modern science—”
“Have nothing to do with the myths of the sea!” Henry interrupted.
Carina stood to leave. “I should never have come here.”
The young man grasped her wrist. “Then why did you?”
“I need to get off this island,” Carina said, “to solve the Map—”
“No Man Can Read,” Henry finished for her. “Left behind by Poseidon himself.”
Carina stared at him, wide-eyed. Perhaps there was more to the young man than met the eye. “So you have read the ancient texts?”
“In each language they were written,” Henry replied. “And no man has ever seen this map.”
Carina smiled. “Luckily, I am a woman.”
Carefully, she withdrew Galileo’s diary from her nun’s habit.
“This is the diary of Galileo Galilei,” she explained. “He spent his life looking for the map. This is why he invented the spyglass. Why astronomers have spent their lives looking to the sky.”
Henry watched as she opened to the drawing of a cluster of five stars above the sea. “You’re saying the Map No Man Can Read is hidden in the stars?” he asked.
“Yes,” Carina answered. “But I have yet to see it.”
“Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it’s not there,” Henry said.
Carina stared at him. Even though he might be mad, she had the strangest feeling that for the first time, someone tru
ly understood her quest. And she couldn’t help being impressed by his dedication to reading the ancient texts.
“The diary was left to me by my father.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. “He believed I could find what no man has ever found, and I will not let him down. Soon there will be a blood moon. Only then will the map be read and the Trident found.”
Henry gazed at her long and hard. He, too, seemed to feel like he was being understood for the first time.
“Who are you?” he asked, his tone one of quiet wonder.
An angry voice pierced the quiet of the hospital. “Carina Smyth!”
It was Scarfield. Carina had been spotted.
Dread washed over her. There was no way to escape this time; they had her cornered.
Desperately, she slipped a small metal pick from her sleeve into Henry’s shackle lock.
“If you wish to save your father, you’ll have to save me,” she whispered urgently. “Find us a ship, and the Trident will be ours.”
“Turn to me, witch!” Scarfield commanded.
Without another word, Carina took off running. She crashed into nuns and leaped over beds, but Scarfield’s men were on her in a second. They pinned her down before the chase had even begun.
“Sir, he’s gone!” one of the soldiers suddenly cried out.
Scarfield whipped to face Henry Turner’s hospital bed. It was empty, the loose shackles piled in a heap.
Carina panted, catching her breath.
Henry Turner was her only hope now.
LATER THAT NIGHT, Carina was making calculations on the wall of her dingy jail cell, the only light coming from the cloudy night sky through the tiny window.
She finished the equation she was working on and took a step away, peering back and forth between her figures and diagrams and the ones in the diary.
What am I missing? she asked herself in frustration. She had come to the Caribbean for answers, and she was no closer to figuring out the map than she had been in England. And now she was imprisoned, to boot. She wondered what Lady Devonshire would have had to say about her present situation.
Sighing, Carina glanced around the gray cell, her eyes resting on the chronometer next to her. Miraculously, neither the chronometer nor the diary had been confiscated by the soldiers when she’d been captured. The only thing they seemed intent on was her hanging—which she supposed was enough.
The Brightest Star in the North Page 9
