by Ted Bell
“I will remember that, sir,” Nick said. “Thank you.”
“Well, lad,” Gunner said, trying on a smile, “I think we should let His Lordship and the commander finish closing up the castle and go back and get yer little sister, Kate.”
“Yes,” Nick said, “here’s Kate’s note, Gunner. Will you enter the exact time and geographical location into the machine?”
“I will indeed. I became quite handy with this blasted thing on our last adventure, you’ll remember.”
Gunner spread the ransom note out on Lord Hawke’s desk and began to enter the time destination into the Tempus half of the orb, and the geographical location into the Locus half. Not until the two halves were rejoined would Gunner and Nick find themselves in Port Royal in the year 1781.
“Godspeed, Nick,” Lord Hawke said, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You, too, Gunner. The Commander and I wish you every success. If anyone can do this, and come home safely, it’s the two of you. And when you have returned, remember, I’ll be counting on you to keep an eye on those damnable Nazis for me.”
“We will, sir,” Nick said. “Are you ready, Gunner?”
“Aye,” he said, holding out his half of the golden ball.
“We’re off, then,” Nick said with a brave smile. He held his half out to Gunner, and the two halves began to glow and pull strongly toward each other, time and space rejoined.
There was the familiar tinkling of a thousand tiny bells as each atom of the two time-traveler’s beings turned into countless tiny fireflies, which began to wink out one by one until Nick and Gunner were no longer standing in Lord Hawke’s study.
In the wink of an eye, they’d returned to the year 1781, to a Jamaican town called Port Royal, a place where a man watched his every move and called no man his friend.
29
BLOODTHIRSTY CUTTHROATS GIVE CHASE
· Port Royal, Jamaica—1781 ·
Nick and Gunner found themselves in a foul-smelling back alley, perhaps a block from Port Royal’s harbor, judging by the sound of creaking rigging and snapping canvas nearby. A light rain was falling and the breeze off the sea was freshening. Nick had arrived seconds ahead of Gunner and so heard the soft tinkling bells and witnessed the millions of tiny fireflies swarming together to form Gunner’s physical being. Nick held his breath until Gunner was standing there fully in the flesh, praying that no passerby would chance to stumble upon the alley and the scene now taking place.
But as luck would have it, they were alone. No one had chanced to see them arrive, an event which surely would have caused a lot of unwanted attention.
“Bit o’ luck,” Gunner said, looking down the alley toward the deserted street.
“Yes, but—” Nick felt something nibbling at his boot and looked down.
Rats. Hundreds of them, it looked like. A swirling sea of horrible slick-skinned rodents, writhing and squirming, more like snakes or worms than any four-footed animals.
“Maybe we should get out of here,” Nick said, kicking away at the rats trying to climb up inside his trouser legs.
“I was just thinking that exact thing myself. Funny, ain’t it, two blokes arriving at the same conclusions at the same time?”
There was a cobbled street at the open end of the alley, angling downward toward the harbor. A flickering gas street-lamp cast a pool of hazy yellow light on the glistening cobblestones. There seemed to be no one about, and Nick ran through the swarming creatures, most eager to escape the alley. Gunner was behind him, walking gingerly, trying to avoid the slimy things. He’d lived with rats on shipboard most of his life and had special fear of the loathsome creatures.
“Harbor’s to the right, lad!” Gunner called ahead to Nick, who was nearing the street.
“How do you know for sure?”
“I can smell it. Hear it.”
Gunner saw Nick go flying around the corner into the street and then, in the mere blink of an eye, he came hurtling back, flying through the air now and landing on his backside with a hard thud.
Gunner was about to call out to him when he saw an unruly gang of five or six men arrive, all staring at the boy lying in the street. Obviously Nick had run headlong into the lot of them and been solidly knocked backward for his troubles.
Gunner meant to race forward out of the shadows into the street and help Nick to his feet, but some instinct told him to remain hidden for a moment or two more.
Nick got to his feet and brushed off the back of his trousers, smiling all the while at the five drunken ruffians looming over him.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Nick began, “I wasn’t watching where I—”
“Silence!” the largest of the pirates shouted at Nick, lunging toward him, slurring the word. “I’ve a mind to run you through for that, you scurvy little pup.” The huge pirate drew his sword and pointed the sharp tip dangerously close to Nick’s chest, flicking the buttons on his shirt.
“It was only an accident,” Nick said, not backing down. “Where I come from, sir, when a gentleman apologizes, no matter where the fault lies, the offended gentleman accepts his apologies.”
For a moment the gang was shocked into silence at the audacity of this mere cabin boy.
“Where he comes from? Is ‘at what he said?” a fat little matey said. His friends roared with laughter.
“Are ye sayin’ I ain’t no gentleman?” the big man said. He took another step toward the boy, raising his sword. He looked back at his men, a cruel smile on his lips. “What say ye? Run ‘im through? Or relieve him of his insolent head?”
“Off with his head!” the other four cried in rum-soaked unison. “Off with it now.”
“Aye. I agree,” he said, drawing his sword back to deliver a blow that would surely sever Nick’s head. Gunner saw Nick’s hand reaching behind him for his gun, but it was too late.
Just at the moment the blade began its swift descent, there came the sound of a sharp explosion in the dark alley and a flash of flame. The pirate’s sword clattered to the street, the echo of steel clanging on stone reverberating the length of it. The drunken buccaneer stayed on his feet for a moment, swaying, and then he fell face-first to the ground like a stone, blood pouring from a wound in his left temple.
Gunner stepped out into the light, his small automatic pistol trained on the remaining members of the rowdy crew, now staring in stunned silence at their fallen leader.
“Who’s for more of this?” Gunner said, taking aim at the street lamp atop the post. He fired the gun again, exploding the glass.
“Apologize to the boy,” he said to the nearest of them, putting the muzzle of the gun to the blackguard’s head.
“What do you—”
“I’ll kill you where you stand, sir, unless you do my bidding.”
“Beg pardon,” the bewildered pirate muttered to Nick, as the pool of blood flowing from the dead man’s head spread around his boots.
“Good enough,” Gunner said. “Now all of you be on your way, and quick about it. You can come back for that one later, if you think he’s worth burying. But trouble me and this boy again, and I swear I’ll blow all yer sodden brains out, too.”
The pirates stared at Gunner for a moment, looking at the small silver weapon still smoking in his hand, and then bolted up the hill and disappeared over the top of it. Gunner stuck his gun back into its holster.
“Thank you,” Nick said, stepping over the corpse and smiling at his friend. “I think he really meant to do it.”
“Oh, he was intending to do it, lad, no doubt. The Brethren of Blood these Caribee pirates call themselves. And every last one of them would rather kill you than look at you.”
“This isn’t going to be easy, is it, Gunner?” Nick asked.
“No, lad, it ain’t going to be the slightest bit easy.”
“The story will spread. Think they’ll come looking for us?”
“They might. If those four drunkards could find anyone to believe them.”
“You just save
d my life.”
“I did.”
“I’d like to repay the debt.”
“I’ve little doubt you’ll get the chance before this night is over.”
They walked down the hill to where the street dead-ended at the harbor. Both of them stopped dead in their tracks at the sight before them.
“Good Lord,” Gunner said, staring openmouthed at the sheer number of ships filling the harbor.
“All flying the Jolly Roger,” Nick said, a bit of awe in his voice. “Every last one.”
“It’s a bloody pirate armada,” Gunner said. “Never in me life seen the likes of it!”
“How many ships do you imagine?”
“A hundred at the very least.”
“Blood’s behind this. I’d bet me last guinea on it.”
Nick had noticed a lone woman standing on the corner of Harbour Road. She was under a street lamp and had smiled politely at him as he and Gunner passed. She was fancifully dressed, as if for some kind of gala, with great hoops of gold dangling from her ears. She wore a skirt of scarlet that touched the ground and a frilly white blouse that scarcely covered her gently heaving bosom.
“Excuse me, madam,” Nick said, walking toward her, “we’re new to this town and could use some help.”
“Help is my stock in trade, lad.” She laughed, her dark eyes flashing. She was even prettier when she laughed, Nick thought. “How about your handsome friend there, does he need help as well?”
“Yes,” Nick replied, motioning for Gunner to join him. “We both need help, to be honest.”
“Well then, you’ve come to right spot, laddie. I’m the most helpful girl on the island.”
“Eve ning,” Gunner said to her, tipping his three-cornered hat.
“And you the same, sir.” She smiled at him. “The boy here says you could use some help.”
“Indeed we could.”
“Exactly what kind of help might you gents be interested in?”
“Directions,” Nick said.
“Directions?” she said with a puzzled look. “What kind of directions?”
“We’re looking for a tavern, ma’am. Called the Black Crow.”
“The Black Crow, is it? she said, laughing. “Well, I can direct you there, to be sure. I work there some nights as a bar-maid. Tonight’s me night off.”
“What’s your name?” Nick asked, extending his hand to her. “I’m Nick and this is my friend Gunner.”
“Sabrina’s my name. Lovely to make your acquaintance, Nick. I had a boy, y’know, looked remarkably like you, he did. Same smile. His name was Henry. Died at age nine at the hands of drunken pirates nigh on five years now. Did it for a laugh, they did. A lark.”
“I’m sorry,” Nick said.
“The Black Crow lies in that direction, about four blocks. You see that footbridge over the canal? Right beyond that, you’ll see it. But I wouldn’t recommend that place.”
“Why not?” Nick asked.
“Because it’s the most dangerous tavern in the most dangerous town on the most dangerous island in the Caribbean, that’s why.”
“Why?”
“Because a bloke named Billy Blood owns this town now. And there’s nary a more dangerous man to cross that walks this earth. You’ve had your warning. Give ‘im wide berth and leave him be.”
“Is that his fleet in the harbor?” Nick asked. “Blood’s armada, it is. Did you ever—?”
“We better be off!” Gunner interrupted. He was looking back up the street they’d just descended. Where the hill crested, a mob of angry men with torches and swords raised were marching toward them. A lot of angry men.
“What do they want?” Sabrina asked, warily looking at the mob, quickly moving Nick and Gunner out of the lamplight.
“Our lives,” Nick said. “We killed one of them. In self-defense, of course.”
“Quick. Come with me. I know a place you can hide. Fast as you can to the footbridge! Now!”
Sabrina lifted her skirts and raced along Harbour Road in the direction of the Black Crow. Nick and Gunner were right behind her. They could hear the swelling cries of the mob descending the hill.
Sabrina cried over her shoulder, “When you get to the bridge, leap into the canal. It’s shallow, don’t worry. We can hide under the bridge. But we must reach it before they turn the corner!”
Nick, who could run very quickly, raced ahead. A moment later he was vaulting over the railing of the footbridge, landing on his feet in the black water below. His heart was pounding. He knew Sabrina could make it in time, but what about Gunner?
A second later he saw Sabrina flinging herself over the rail. Gunner was right behind her, and the three of them quickly waded through the filthy, waist-high water, stopping under the old wooden bridge.
“Did they see you, Gunner?” Nick whispered, breathing hard.
“I took a quick look back as I reached the bridge,” Gunner said quietly. “I saw the light of their torches reach the harbor, but not one had rounded the corner when I jumped.”
“Quiet,” Sabrina said. “Here they come!”
Nick and Gunner both pulled their pistols from behind their backs.
30
“WELCOME TO THE BLACK CROW, GENTS”
The bloodthirsty cutthroats couldn’t be more than fifty yards behind them. They were in a frenzy now, bellowing curses that echoed off the walls beside the canal. Then they were on the bridge proper, just three feet above Nick’s head, and a stampede of wild horses couldn’t have been louder than the sound of pirates’ boots on that wooden bridge.
Nick tried to figure their number, but it took so long for all of them to cross the bridge, he gave up at fifty or so. As the last of them crossed and the loud shouting grew more distant, Sabrina put a finger to her lips, telling them to remain quiet. Sure enough, a few minutes later, a group of rowdy stragglers crossed the bridge, trying to catch up with the main body.
Then, silence.
But taking no chances, they stayed where they were, silent and unmoving, as the foul sludge of debris and garbage from the old town flowed past them and out into the harbor proper.
After ten more minutes Gunner said, “Any chance of getting out of this bleeding cesspool?”
Sabrina laughed and started wading away from the harbor. “Follow me. Only a short way.”
“Where’s the Black Crow, Sabrina?” Nick asked, just behind her.
“Right here,” she said. “It’s this very building on your left. To your right is the warehouse where Blood is storing black powder and ammunition for the coming war.”
“War? Who’s he fighting?”
She laughed. “The whole bloody world, as far as I can make out. I hear things, you know. Keep my ears open.”
Nick looked up at the four-story tavern rising up beside the canal. It was built of crumbling old brick, oil lamps were burning in most of the windows.
“I think my sister is somewhere inside that building,” Nick said.
“What?” Sabrina said. “You must be joking. What’s her name? I’d know her if she works there, believe you me.”
“Her name is Kate. She’s only seven years old.”
“A child! What’s she doing in a place like that?”
“Blood kidnapped her. He’s holding her for ransom. That’s why we’re here. To rescue her.”
“You’ll have a hard time rescuing anybody now, I’m afraid, with half the pirates in Port Royal screaming for your head.”
“We’ve dealt with Old Bill before, Gunner and I have. We’re not afraid of him.”
“If you ain’t afraid of Billy Blood, maybe you’ve got rocks in your head, Nick.”
“I know Nick’s got a few loose rocks in his head,” Gunner said. “But so far, it hasn’t been much of a problem.”
“Here we are,” Sabrina said. “There’s a set of steps that lead up to the rear of the Crow. There’s the back entrance right there. Nobody uses it but the barmaids and Lucius.”
“Who’s Luci
us?”
“Kitchen man at the Crow. A Barbadian. As fine a fellow as there is around here. But a little addled in his old age.”
They climbed the slippery steps up from the putrid black canal and stood for a moment at the rear entrance of the Black Crow. Sabrina put a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Listen to me, Nick. Your sister may well be held captive here, and she may not. If she isn’t, don’t fret. I know where to find her.”
“Where?” Nick asked.
“There’s an old English fort out at the entrance to the harbor. Blood’s taken it over and installed a garrison of men and countless cannons. He’ll defend Port Royal and his fleet, should anyone be foolish enough to attack. It’s called Fort Blood now, naturally enough. The dungeons, I hear it said, are full. That’s where Bill imprisons his enemies or anyone who looks at him sideways or crosses him. I think that’s where you’ll find your Kate, sorry to say.”
“Blood’s ransom letter told me to come to the Black Crow by sundown if I wanted to see her alive. My guess is she’s imprisoned here.”
“If she is, Lucius will know about it. We’ll find him in the kitchen.”
As they entered the rear of the tavern, Gunner leaned over and whispered to Nick, “Keep yer gun handy, Master Nick. In yer hand with yer hand in yer jacket pocket. We don’t know what we’re up against inside this den of thieving scoundrels.”
“Good idea,” Nick said, pulling his gun from the holster at his back and sliding his gun inside his pocket.
“This way,” Sabrina said, leading them through the door and through some kind of storeroom, or larder, where the smell of overripe meat and rotting vegetables attacked Nick’s nostrils.
“Customers don’t come for the food, I guess,” Nick whispered to Sabrina.
She laughed. “Grog and ale and strumpets, that’s what they come for. This door leads directly to the kitchen. We’ll find out soon enough about your sister.”
