by Ted Bell
“Not without real gold, I’m afraid. No.”
“Hold on!” Hawke said, “There’s still solid gold flatware and cutlery in the drawers in the pantry. Place settings won’t be packed up and shipped over until this afternoon,” Hawke said, smiling. “Please feel free to melt down as many forks and spoons as you need, old fellow.”
Hobbes leaped to his feet. “Excellent! Come along, Nick, we’ll go grab as many golden knives and spoons as we can. Melt them down, and we’re off to the races!”
Nick had opened the Tempus Machina and held up both halves for Hobbes to see. “What about the interior, sir? That will be the most difficult. All these jewels and intricate etchings.”
“Yes, yes, but I think I can manage. We’ll need real jewels, too, I’m afraid,” Hobbes said, examining it closely.
The machine had an emerald button to initiate time travel and a brilliant ruby to stop any motion, backward or forward. And small diamonds representing various constellations, and secret Greek and Egyptian symbols.
“Hobbes,” Hawke said, “you know the silver jewelry box atop the dresser in my dressing room? Inside is an old necklace my grandmother gave to me just before she died. It’s a lovely thing, all emeralds and rubies and diamonds. You’re welcome to use it in any way you see fit.”
“Marvelous. Thank you,” Hobbes said, much relieved. Hawke laid a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “And, Nick, don’t worry. I’ll get a message to the Baroness de Villiers about your parents immediately. They’ll be quite safe while you’re gone, I assure you.”
“With all due respect, sir, how will you reach her? The Germans have cut all the undersea lines between the islands.”
Hawke smiled. “Some of us have undersea telephonic lines the Germans are not aware of, lad.”
Nick, who felt as it he’d been holding his breath all day, expelled a great sigh of relief. There was now a chance, albeit a very slim one, that everything might turn out all right after all.
Of course, it could all go dreadfully wrong, as well.
27
THE BRETHREN OF BLOOD
· Port Royal, Jamaica—July 14, 1781 ·
Now, Cecily,” Katie said, “I am telling you, you have absolutely nothing to be afraid of. As soon as my brother Nicky finds that letter I left for him in the pie basket, he will certainly come and rescue us. Besides, you have to realize that I have been in far more frightening situations than this silly one. Why, I was once kidnapped by real Nazis and held captive aboard a giant U-boat! But, in the end, my friend Hobbesie and I outsmarted them, captured the U-boat in Hawke Lagoon, and here I am.” She paused a moment and added, “Kidnapped again.”
Kate was lying on the thin mattress of the cot in her small white-washed room on the third floor of the Black Crow Inn. She was having a very serious conversation with a raggedy red-headed doll named Cecily about their impending rescue from the despicable pirates who’d stolen her away from her dear home and family.
Because of the white walls and the big tall window overlooking the Port Royal harbor, the room was filled with sunshine all day. She had a splendid view. It seemed that every ship in the world had come to Port Royal. The harbor was full to overflowing with ships of every description, but, she’d noticed, they all had something in common.
Every ship, be it large or small, was flying the skull and crossbones flag at their mastheads. Pirate ships! So many, in fact, there were at least twenty or so anchored well outside the narrow entrance to the harbor.
The streets were filled night and day with throngs of rowdy pirates, most of them drunk as far as she could tell. Coarse language, rum bottles smashed in the cobbled streets, fights breaking out every few minutes. It was great fun sitting in her chair by the window and gazing down at the pandemonium in the streets and out in the harbor, aboard the great vessels themselves. The sound of steel on steel would bring her running to the window—that meant a sword fight!
So far, no one had hurt or even threatened to hurt her or Cecily. She was locked inside her room, of course, and never let out, but a kindly old black man named Lucius, from the inn’s kitchen, tapped on her door thrice a day. With a key from the great ring of them hanging from his belt, he unlocked her door and came in with a tray of food and a glass of wine. She kept asking for water, but Lucius was a bit addled and never remembered.
“You got lemons, you make lemonade,” he’d said this morning when she’d complained.
“A lemonade would be lovely!”
“We ain’t got lemons, miss. Or potable water. We got wine.”
She hated the taste of the wine, and it made her hiccough, but she was ever so thirsty and so she drank every last drop. It made her feel a bit odd for a while, but the feeling soon passed if she lay down and slept. She hated to think what her mum would say if she knew her precious daughter was drinking three glasses of wine a day. Of course, the only one who could tell on her was Cecily, and she wasn’t much for conversation.
Kate awoke that very morning to the sound of loud shouts and violent arguing in the room right next to hers. Blood and his crew often stomped up three flights of stairs to that room. The plastered walls were not very thick, and she heard the booming voice of Captain Blood and then the voices of other pirate captains raised in disagreement or shouting their approval. What on earth could all the fuss be about?
She’d taken her wineglass and put it to the wall so she could hear more clearly. It was a trick Nicky had told her about in a Sherlock Holmes mystery story. It actually worked, she discovered. The room next door sounded full of men, shuffling their boots and cursing. It must be a much larger room than her own. Some kind of meeting room like Gunner’s Armoury.
And Captain Blood must have been standing pretty close to the wall that separated them because she could hear him through the glass the most clearly. She knew eavesdropping was impolite, but she and her brother were officially spies, indirectly working for the British government, so she supposed it was all right. More than that, it was her professional duty. She knew any scrap of information she could pick up would be invaluable to Nicky when he showed up to rescue her.
She heard Blood say, “You captains, you hearty souls, you all know why we’re here. We’ve assembled the largest pirate armada the world has ever seen! Nigh on a hundred or more vessels! We come from every point of the compass. But we all have only one thing in our minds. What may that be, now, captains?”
“Rule the seas! Rule the seas!” the men cried out in unison, and in her mind she could see Billy standing there, waiting for them to stop.
Finally, he said, “Right ye are and, by God, we will rule the whole world and own all the riches of the Seven Seas afore we’re done!”
There was another deafening cheer, and then Blood continued, “And, afore we’re done, the world will shiver in terror at the mere mention of our name. Snake Eye here and I been thinking on a good name for our pirate fleet. I even had a flag sewn up. Snake Eye, give ’em a look. The Brethren of Blood! That’s who we are and forever more shall be!”
At this point, Kate didn’t need the wineglass. There was a great stomping of heavy boots, fists pounding on the table, and howls of approval and shouts of “Brethren of Blood! Brethren of Blood!”
“Quiet down, now, the lot of you, whilst I move on to the important part of this meeting. We all decided our first foray. We unanimously agreed we would strike the coast of France. But one of our brave number, a Frenchman who survived one of Nelson’s swords by a whisker, brings vital information to our midst. So give him your attention. Captain Guy de Vincennes, take the floor!”
“Merci beaucoup et bonjour, mon capitaine et mes amis! I’ve just come from Saint George’s on the isle of Grenada where I witnessed a mighty battle for control of that island from a cell in King George’s prison at Fort Frederick.
“A huge fleet, flying the colors of the French Navy, and under command of a certain Admiral de Grasse took that island. And, I hear, the isle of Tobago before that. And de Grasse looted t
hem both of enormous treasure, too. He’s loaded to the gunwales with it, I’ll tell you! I escaped when the French set fire to the fort. Flames were licking at my heels, by my oath. A fellow French officer saw my plight and released me from my cell and certain death.”
“Rule the seas! Rule the seas!”
“How many men has he under his command, this here Admiral de Grasse and his fleet?” Blood asked.
“The fleet carries five thousand French troops en route to America. They say it’s to help the Revolutionaries defeat Cornwallis and the British at Yorktown in Virginia.”
“That fleet must be loaded down with so much booty, I’d be surprised if they could make headway!” someone shouted.
“Aye, but they’ll use the Gulf Stream and sail up through the passage between the Florida Keys and Cuba. The stream itself will give ’em seven knots.”
Kate heard Blood raise his voice above the hubbub. “Silence, you scoundrels! I have a proposal to lay before ye. I say we surprise this Admiral de Grasse en route to Virginia and relieve him of all that ill-gotten booty! What say you? All in favor, signify by saying ‘Aye.’ ”
Kate had to step back from the wall, the chorus of “Ayes” was so thunderous. When they quieted down, she put the wineglass back to the wall.
“When does he sail for the American colonies?” Blood asked.
“Three weeks hence. The French fleet now lies at Saint George’s while de Grasse makes repairs and re-provisions.”
“Slide that chart across the table, will ye, and be quiet whilst I study it.”
The room went dead quiet for a few minutes, and then she heard Blood’s voice rising again. “Roll up that chart and put it under lock and key in this here table. We sail in a fortnight. And regroup ten leagues off the nor’east tip of Nassau Town. Admiral de Grasse will have the distinction of being the first to feel the might and steel of the Brethren of Blood!”
There was a mighty roar, and then Blood screamed, “And now let us repair to a day of rum and wenches! Tomorrow we begin to plan this ambush in earnest.”
She heard the door creak open and the sound of heavy boots as the laughing and shouting pirate captains strumbled down the hall toward the narrow staircase. One of them, probably Blood himself, pounded on her door hard enough to splinter it. Then he roared with laughter at the notion of scaring the little girl to death, and stomped away.
The one staircase to the left led to the ground floor. There were two staircases, she’d noticed. The one for guests on the harbor side, and the one at the rear for the staff and Lucius.
“Cecily, now you listen to me,” she said, picking up her doll and seating herself at the small wooden desk beneath the window. “This is a very serious business. Do you realize what has just happened? I, the only true British spy on this island, am now privy to the most secret plans of that awful Captain Blood. Now we know why he has this huge armada. Why, when Nick learns of all this, there’s no telling what he might do with such important spy information. Now, you take your nap while I write down all the details of Blood’s plan before I forget them.”
She opened the drawer of the desk beneath the window and took out several sheets of writing paper. There was a quill and inkpot on the desktop. She dipped the quill in ink and wrote BRETHREN OF BLOOD at the top of the page.
This, Kate thought as she wrote, was surely the pinnacle of her entire career as a spy. She had secret information that could affect the lives of hundreds. All of it, every word, in exquisite detail. Now, all she had to do was get it on paper and turn it over to her brother, Nick, for his consideration. She had no doubt he’d come up with a brilliant plan to thwart Blood’s ambush of Admiral de Grasse and his fleet en route to Virginia to help the American rebels.
At school she’d learned a bit about George Washington and these American colonialists and their disloyal rebellion against the crown. But something about their stalwart bravery, farmers and cobblers standing up to the world’s greatest power, gave them a tiny piece of her heart.
She’d seen a portrait of the American general in one of Nick’s many history books. A big man in a splendid uniform, he looked quite formidable astride his white steed.
Her brother, Nicky, was clever, maybe not quite so clever as she was, but when it came to taking action against evil men like Billy Blood, there was not a braver boy in all of England. Or, maybe, all the world!
Nicky, where are you? she thought, staring out the window at the forest of swaying masts and wind-whipped black flags in the harbor, thinking of the foggy night she’d first seen Blood and Snake Eye, for the very first time, sitting there in the flickering shadows by the fire at the Greybeard Inn.
The two pirates had scared her then, and though she would scarcely ever confess this dreadful secret to Cecily, they’d scared her in the forest and they scared her now.
Don’t you fret, Cecily, Nick’s coming.
She could feel it in her bones.
28
“GODSPEED, NICK,” HAWKE SAID
· Greybeard Island—July 14, 1940 ·
Three hours after he’d disappeared down into the laboratory, Hobbes reappeared in the lift and stepped into Lord Hawke’s circular study atop the castle tower. He carried two round objects, each draped in black velvet. Smiling, he placed the objects on Lord Hawke’s desk. Every candle in the chandeliers above had been lit, and the room was ablaze with light in anticipation of this moment.
“Have you done it, Hobbes, made its match?” Nick cried, leaping to his feet. “A perfect match?” Hobbes saw that Nick was now wearing the clothes of a ragged eighteenth-century cabin boy. Gunner was attired as a typical scalawag from the Spanish Main, with a bandanna tied round his head, a black patch over one eye and a golden hoop dangling from one ear.
The last time Nick had traveled back in time, he’d been wearing his normal clothes. It had caused much astonishment and consternation aboard the English warship they’d gone back in history to save. At Lord Hawke’s suggestion, they’d been raiding His Lordship’s costume wardrobe, which, long ago, had been used for the many fancy dress balls held in those days at Hawke Castle.
“A perfect match, you say? Only you three can be the judge of that,” Hobbes said, now placing his hands atop the treasures. “Come have a look!”
Hawke, Nick, and Gunner gathered round the desk, staring at the black-draped balls.
“Confound it, Hobbes,” His Lordship said. “Enough drama. Show us what you’ve done!”
Hobbes, with a dramatic flourish, whisked away the velvet covers. Two golden orbs sat upon the desk, gleaming like the sun itself.
“Someone please point out the original,” Hobbes said, puffed up a bit with pride.
Hawke picked up his large ivory-handled magnifying glass and leaned in to inspect one, then the other.
“Impossible to tell,” he said, handing the glass to Gunner. “Have a go, Gunner.”
After a close inspection, he, too, deemed it impossible to choose. “Identical,” he declared, handing the glass to Nick.
The boy took his time, peering at the gleaming golden balls through the glass from every possible angle. “Circumference looks the same,” he said. “Engraving is perfect.”
“Exactly the same,” Hobbes said. “And the weight?” Nick asked. “The weight will be very important.”
“Not a gram’s difference between them.”
“You’ve done it, Hobbes!” Nick said, smiling up at his friend. “Can we have a peek inside?”
“But of course. You open one and I’ll open the other.”
The machines opened along the equator by twisting the top and bottom halves in counterclockwise directions. Once opened, Hobbes and Nick placed the machines side by side on the table. His three companions leaned over the desk and examined each machine in turn.
Hobbes said, “I had a bit of trouble cutting the stones to fit exactly, but as I’ve often said, it’s a poor craftsman who blames his tools.”
“They look perfect,” Nick said,
admiring his friend’s handiwork.
“The glass, M’lord?” Hobbes said, offering the magnifying glass to Lord Hawke.
“I don’t need it. By heaven, you’ve done it, Hobbes. Not a man on earth could distinguish any difference between the two. Not even an expert jeweler at Van Cleef in Paris. Well done, old fellow, well done indeed!”
Nick turned to Hobbes and flung his arms around him, hugging him. “I can never thank you enough, Hobbes,” Nick said. “If Gunner and I have any chance of success in saving my sister and holding on to the Tempus Machina, it will only be through your magnificent efforts.”
Hawke opened a drawer in his desk and removed a beautifully ebony box inlaid with ivory. “Nick, Gunner, I want you to take these with you. To be used in case of an emergency. You’re going into a pirates’ den, and I think it unwise for you to enter such a place unarmed.”
Inside the felt-lined case were a pair of matching pistols, small silver automatics with ivory grips. Hawke handed one to Nick and one to Gunner. “A Walther PPK. It fires a small .25-caliber round, so it’s no good at any distance. But for close-in work, it will come in handy. These leather holsters should be worn in the small of your back, under your shirts. The magazine holds nine rounds. If you must use them, use them wisely.”
“Nick,” Hobbes said, “I took the liberty of working up an identical leather orb pouch to the one you conceal under your arm. My thought is you should entrust the real machine to Gunner and carry the replica in your own pouch. And do not, under any circumstances, hand over the duplicate machine until you’ve seen Kate alive, unharmed, and in your presence. Do you understand? He releases her into your hands before you hand him the orb.”
“Won’t he wonder how we intend to get home without it?” Nick asked.
“An astute question. But I would stake my life on his euphoria driving him to distraction. The miracle of finally possessing the twin orbs will send him into such paroxysms of ecstasy, he will scarcely care what happens to you. But if he tries to trick you in any way, shape, or form, tries to take the three of you against your will, you must use the guns, Nick; you must escape his sight and use the real machine to return home.”
