Isle of Fire

by Wayne Thomas Batson

  “Three cheers for Hopper!” St. Pierre shouted, raising his goblet high.

  When the cheers quieted, Declan Ross said, “Things would have gone very ill had it not been for your courage . . . and your cleverness.”

  Father Brun patted the young lad on the shoulder and said, “How very like the Almighty to use the weak to confound the strong.”

  Blake leaned over and whispered to his wife, “Was it Hopper’s idea to stay in the hurricane’s eye until the storm died out?”

  “No,” Dolphin replied. “Cat thought of that. But Hopper was the one who got Cat thinking about it.”

  “Our son is quite brilliant, wouldn’t you say?” Blake asked with a wink.

  “Son?” Dolphin embraced her husband. “So you’ve decided then?”

  “I have.” Blake looked at his wife and took in her beauty. “We’ll make it official as soon as we get back to London.”

  Ross took Father Brun aside and led him to a small table next to Hack and Slash, who were busy playing chess. “It will take some time to rebuild London,” said Ross. “And the British Royal Navy.”

  “There is much to be done here as well,” said Father Brun. “But, ah . . . with the Merchant and Thorne gone for good, it may be that the Brethren can help. There are other treasures in our possession besides that which we retrieved from the Isle of Swords.”

  “You mean more gold and jewels?”

  “You and I define treasure very differently, Declan Ross.”

  “You know, someone else told me the same thing,” said Ross.

  “And at last, I think I know what it means.”

  “Do you?” Father Brun smiled. “I am glad to hear that.”

  35

  NO REGRETS

  He admired his reflection in the mirror in his little room above the Jamaican tavern. “Ha! Never grow a beard, he said! Now look at me.” Edward Teach pulled at the thick black locks that grew down from his sideburns and finished with long, ragged braids below his chin. “I look positively terrifyin’!”

  Teach picked up a dark tricorn hat and placed it on his head. He checked his bandolier. All six pistols were loaded and in their proper place. A dagger in each boot, one on his hip, and of course, a very nasty cutlass. He looked once more at his image in the mirror. Terrifying, he thought again.

  “I need a name, though,” Teach muttered. “Every good pirate needs a name. Hmmm . . . but what?”

  Just then, Portis, the tavern keeper, cracked open the door. “Hey, you . . . blackbeard, your guests have arrived.”

  Teach waved the man off, but he did not follow directly. He stroked his beard once more and thoughtfully stared at his reflection.

  Cat knocked on Captain Ross’s door. “Come in,” said Ross. Then he saw who it was and said, “Cat, you know you don’t need to knock. You and Stede . . . and Anne, but everyone else has to knock!”

  They shared a laugh. Then Ross said, “Have a seat, lad. What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, sir, do you remember when we were at the Citadel before?”

  “You mean before everything,” said Ross. “Yes, of course.”

  Cat’s lips curled in a slight smile as he spoke. “Well, you remember, I came to your chamber to ask you if you’d let Anne sail with me.”

  “I do,” said Ross. “I remember it well.”

  “Do you regret your decision . . . to let her go?”

  Ross thought hard for a moment. “My first thought was to say, yes, I regret it. Anne nearly lost her life. But now, no, I don’t regret that decision. You kept her safe . . . well . . . you and the Almighty. Why do you bring this up now?”

  “Because, Captain Ross, I have another question to ask you.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you, Mary Lu, for enduring so many hours sailing our family ship solo while I sat, sequestered at the library or Panera, pounding the keyboard. 1C13. To my faithful crew Kayla, Tommy, Bryce, and Rachel: No captain’s had finer lads and lasses. I love you!

  Brian, Jeff, and Leslie: Thank you for filling my sails with love, encouragement, and imagination. Mom and Dad: Please remember that, in a very real sense, every word on every page that I write belongs to you as well. To the Dovel family: Thank you for being the best extended family a guy could ever ask for.

  To my friends Bill and Lisa Russell, Dave and Heather Peters, Doug and Chris Smith, Danny Sutton, Warren Cramutola, Chris and Alaina Haerbig, Dan and Courtney Cwiek, Janet Berbes, Chris and Dawn Harvey, Don and Valerie Counts, Mat and Serrina Davis, and Jeff and Leslie Leggett: I look forward to sailing with you into many uncharted waters. Todd Wahlne, a great friend: Special thanks for the Swedish translations. Anne Marie, Pascal, and Juliette LaChance for providing French language assistance! Michelle Black: You continue to be a special encouragement in my writing.

  The brilliant students of Folly Quarter Middle School: Thank you always for igniting my imagination and encouraging me to write on. Dr. Carl Perkins and Mrs. Julie Rout: Thank you for the time to share my books with others. To the sixth-grade team: Thank you for being such great friends and for your inspirational teaching.

  Gregg Wooding: Thank you for bearing so many burdens and wearing so many hats on my behalf. All my friends at Thomas Nelson: Thank you for the opportunity to follow Cat into this new adventure. Thanks to Laura, Troy, and Jackie for your tireless efforts to bring my stories to the world. To Patti and the art team at TN: You produce the greatest covers in the world! And to Beverly and June for helping me make Isle of Fire worthy of being published.

  To my writer friends Bryan Davis, Sharon Hinck, Christopher Hopper, Donita K. Paul, Jonathan Rogers, James Somers, and L. B. Graham: Thanks for sharpening my iron with your own phenomenal stories. And finally, to my readers, the most extraordinary horde of crazy, wonderful, enthusiastic pirates the world has ever known: Draw your sword and raise your mug with mine. There are stormy but wonderful seas to conquer.