Between Two Ends (22 page)

“Mr. Sutcliff!”

“Quickly, my boy!”

Mr. Sutcliff loomed over them. Bones set the
girl back on her feet. There was an intake of breath.

“Shari!”

“Grandpa!”

The girl embraced the old man. “I can't believe it's you,” she said.

“It is indeed, dearest!”

“I only wish my parents were here too,” she said. “I thought that perhaps, somehow, they might … ”

“My dear,” said Mr. Sutcliff, “I cannot express the overflow of my heart at this moment—”

“Good!” interrupted Bones. “ 'Cause yer heart will be overflowing with something else once those arrows find their mark!”

Rocks clattered behind him and Yeats spun around. Something whizzed overhead.

“Oars out, Sutcliff!” Skin hollered. “Anchors away!”

“Wait till we're afloat. Then all get in the boat,” Bones shouted.

“To me, Yeats!” Mr. Sutcliff handed out orders. “Untie that rope! Here now, take hold of the other side.”

Yeats hurriedly grabbed the side of the small craft. The pirates took the other side. The bottom scraped along stones. It was dreadfully heavy.

“Heave ho, lad!” Mr. Sutcliff threw in the tie rope. “Angels and minstrels of grace help us if we can't all fit.” With a last effort, the boat slid into the water. Mist already covered the bow and Yeats desperately hoped it would be enough to hide them from the guards on land.

Skin gave Yeats a crooked grin. “Cutlass out, my boy! If ye can think of anything witty, this may be yer last chance to say it. Sutcliff and the girl, get in!”

Yeats stared dumbly at the pirate.

“No.” Shari stepped away from the boat. “I know what to do with a scimitar. And I'm seeing a little better now.”

The roaring guardsmen were fewer than thirty feet away and there was no leaving shore without a fight. The arrows had ceased. The guards had finally seen Shari. They fell silent at their final approach, and at a motion from their captain, all raised their scimitars.

“Hand-to-hand combat! My favorite!” Skin smirked. “And so many! I hardly know where to start.”

“Sutcliff!” Bones yelled. “Push off and get in the boat. Hold her steady about forty feet out.”

Shari and her grandfather shook their heads as one. “No!” the girl said emphatically. “I'm staying. Even blind, I can fight better than Yeats.”

“I wouldn't say that,” Yeats said angrily. But there was no time for more conversation. The soldiers were upon them at last. His teeth chattered. He gazed in horror at the imposing figures, all in black save their leader, whose white turban set him apart.

“Yeats!” Shari called.

“I'm right here. But I don't have a sword.” The sight of Shari standing beside her grandfather with her scimitar aimed at the guards made him pause. All this way to be caught at the beach! Anger boiled inside of him. He took a deep breath and a grin began to spread. “I don't need a weapon,” he said. “I'm not a killer. So let's see how many I can knock down with my fists.”

Mr. Sutcliff gave Yeats an encouraging wink. “Good boy.”

“Stay beside me, Yeats,” said Shari.

The guards attacked like a pounding wave. Even with the pirates taking the brunt of the assault Yeats was bowled over into the sea. Someone hauled him up. Choking and spluttering, Yeats caught sight of a guard lying at his feet and rubbing his chin.

“Beginner's luck!” Bones cried. Skin had taken an opponent's weapon and was wielding a sword in each hand, singing as he fought. Shari struck expertly at the attacking soldiers, who fell back, astonished at her ferocity.

“Look out, Yeats!” Mr. Sutcliff roared.

He ducked instinctively. Someone flew over his shoulder and a knee struck his head. Reeling, he lost his footing on the sand. Everywhere, guards poured onto the beach, their torches lighting up the fight. Their little group was vastly outnumbered. It was only a matter of seconds before one of them was killed. I'm going to die! Yeats thought as he took aim at another head.

A sudden loud crack filled the air and there was a pause in the fighting. Two soldiers fell back and Yeats sank to one knee, gasping for breath.

Skin held a smoking pistol and the acrid smell of burning shot wafted over the beach. The leader of the guards grasped his shoulder, dumbfounded at the blood spreading over his tunic.

“There be more where that came from!” roared Skin. Bones dropped his cutlass and pulled two pistols from his belt.

“Only
two more shots before he has to reload,” muttered Mr. Sutcliff. “And there are many more needed to stop this tide of guardsmen, but they don't know that. It's a clever trick. I hope the guards believe it. They've likely not seen a pistol before!”

The soldiers stared at their leader in disbelief. The man fell to the ground clutching his shoulder.

“Now for it!” said Mr. Sutcliff. He hurried a protesting Shari into the shallows and they climbed into the boat. Skin caught Yeats by the back of the neck. “That's enough for ye. Fly like an albatross!” With a mighty heave Skin flung him deep into the water toward their drifting boat.

Shari gripped the bow of the boat as her grandfather swung himself on board. “Where is he, Grandpa? Where's Yeats?”

Yeats gasped from a few yards away. “Here!”

Mr. Sutcliff hauled on the oars. “Wait, my dear. Let me reel in our fish.”

“Hurry, Grandpa!” Shari called.

Two more pistol shots ripped through the night air. Yeats glanced back to see the line of torches retreating, regrouping, then surging forward again. Skin and Bones had jumped into the water.

“There we are,” said Mr. Sutcliff, positioning the boat as close to Yeats as possible. “Lift him under the shoulders, Shari! That's it. Easy now. Ah! Here come our pirates!”

When Yeats looked up from the bottom of the boat, Shari was hovering over him.

“Are you all right?” she asked breathlessly.

“I think so.”

“You've got a cut above your eye,” she said. “I expect it might hurt a bit.” She touched his forehead.

“Can you see again?” he asked.

“A little. You look fuzzier than you did earlier tonight. It sort of comes and goes.”

The boat suddenly dipped and they fell together to the port side. A pair of knuckles gripped the gunwale. A second later the opposite side plunged.

“For goodness' sake, are you trying to sink us?” Mr. Sutcliff shouted. The two pirates lay dripping on the bottom of the boat with Yeats and Shari squeezed in the middle.

Skin and Bones waved their arms frantically. “Row, Sutcliff, row!” The cacophony that followed, as the soldiers entered the shallows and Mr. Sutcliff started rowing, was deafening.

Skin stood. “Let me do it.”

“Down, pirate!” Mr. Sutcliff roared. “You'll tip us.”

“Then row like a pirate yerself,” Skin retorted.

“Sit still like a good bookend,” wheezed Mr. Sutcliff. It was awful for Yeats to have to lie motionless, unable to see over the side of the boat, just waiting for the guards to overtake them. His only comfort was Shari, pressed next to him.

Skin leaned up on one elbow. “Well?”

“Down,” Mr. Sutcliff gasped. “Or I'll whack you with my paddle. They are aiming arrows again.”

But the arrows did not reach them. The noise faded. Yeats and Shari stared up at the star-filled sky. It looked very much like the stars at home, thought Yeats.

He glanced at Shari. They were far from safe yet.

“We'll take it from here,” Bones said. Mr. Sutcliff did not argue.

“That was too close,” Yeats said. “I'm not much of a warrior.”

Shari's smile flashed. “You were wonderful back there, Yeats! Marvelous. For someone who's never been in battle you held your ground like a hero.”

He smiled weakly. “Skin said it was beginner's luck.”

He wanted to tell her that she was the bravest girl he'd ever met, but she was faster. To his astonishment, she kissed his cheek. “Maybe so. But I'll think otherwise.”

He looked at her hopefully.

“It's strange,” Shari murmured. “I'm leaving my home that is not my home. I have memories of every part of that palace.” She brought her gaze back to Yeats. “And they are not real.”

Yeats raised his eyebrows. “Shari, you've been gone for twenty years. No wonder you are confused.”

“Twenty years!” she groaned. She fell silent and Yeats wondered what on earth he could possibly say to make her want to go home. The slap of water against the boat's sides was soothing and both of them fell silent. Mr. Sutcliff watched them intently. The pirates, Yeats noted, kept a close eye on Mr. Sutcliff. There was a tension in the air as thick as the fear they had on the beach when facing the soldiers. Everyone was waiting. Everyone was waiting for Shari.

“I had to make a decision back there,” the girl said suddenly.

“What's that?” Yeats perked up.

“When I heard the bell and saw your face—so much like William's—it took me back to Gran's
house, to my old life.” She looked at Yeats. “It took me back to my own story.” She held the bell to her ear and smiled, remembering. “Dear William. I left him in such a terrible state, you know. The guards came from nowhere and called me Shaharazad. They bowed low and treated me like royalty. I guess I didn't have to believe it,” she said. “Poor William. He tried to warn me. But I wouldn't listen. I wanted to get away from everything that reminded me of my parents.”

Yeats nodded. “I can understand that. I've felt that way a bit myself recently.”

“My parents are still gone.” She closed her eyes for the briefest moment. “I remember now. When I'm in the story I didn't … I don't have to remember.”

A bead of sweat or water, Yeats couldn't tell which, dropped from the end of Mr. Sutcliff's nose. The pirates were becoming restless.

“Time to go,” Skin muttered. “She's not coming.” At Skin's words, Yeats felt his heart thumping. They were rapidly running out of time. If Shari didn't break her wish soon the pirates
would return alone. Mr. Sutcliff lowered his head and his shoulders sagged. He appeared old again. His eyes looked at Yeats pleadingly.

Yeats desperately cast about in his mind for something clever to say. He saw the bell and stifled a gasp. Reaching over, he opened her hand. He picked up the bell and in the face of the moon he held it up.

“I know why you need to wish for home,” he said.

The girl sat up. “Why?”

He held her gaze steadily. Then he took the bell and put it back in her hand. He wrapped her fingers around it. “Because you were born to rescue people. It's in your name. And it's the reason you wanted to come here, to be the rescuer. But now, the people who need you most are on the other side of this story. And you are the only one who can bring us back and make a happy ending.”

Shari frowned, but she was listening closely.

He pressed on. “My dad was messed up when you didn't return. My mom is ready to leave him because of it. Gran has faithfully dusted your
picture and hoped for a miracle. Your grandfather risked everything to come here. He's tried for twenty years to save you. Now look at him.” Yeats put his hand on her shoulder. “Shaharazad, your people need you. And they are waiting for you right now. Not outside a palace in a time from long ago. But now, at Gran's house, waiting, hoping beyond hope that you will come home.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. She gave a weak smile. “You sound so much like William and yet not like William too.” She sniffed and pressed the bell to her cheek. “You are right, Yeats. This isn't my story, no matter how much I feel that it is.”

Bones stopped rowing and stared at her.

Shari looked at Mr. Sutcliff. “Grandpa.”

“My dear,” he said.

She turned to Yeats and murmured, “I think I want to go home.” As her last word echoed over the water, the wind suddenly gusted and Yeats heard again a boy's voice calling, “I wish! I wish!”

The pirates heard it, too, for they sat up straight.

“That came from the well,” said Skin. “I thought it was broken.”

“'Tis,” said Bones. “It rattled and roared for twenty years while I was marooned in the garden.”

“Wait!” Yeats cried excitedly. “I've heard that voice. At the well. I threw a coin in and the whole thing erupted. That voice was calling from the well.”

Shari stared keenly at him. “That was William.”

“'Twas an old wish, no doubt,” said Bones. “Likely yer father's, finally making its way out. Not much strength to it.” Then he added with a wink, “Must have helped, though. Look to the girl!”

Shari's eyes were bright and hopeful, all doubt gone from her face. She looked at the pirates, then straight at Yeats. “I want to go home!” she said with conviction. Then, at the top of her voice, she shouted, “I want to go home!”

“Thar she blows!” roared Bones. “The old wish is broken.”

Yeats leaned forward and gave Shari a bear hug. Over her shoulder, he looked at the pirates. “Can we really go home?”

“Ye can indeed,” said Bones.

Skin leaned down to Yeats. “Well done, ye little
pirate,” he said. “It took a mite more than just wit to win the day.”

All at once, something pounced. A furry face peered up from Yeats's ankles.

“Odysseus!”

Shari scooped the cat into her arms. “Dear, dear Odysseus.” Odysseus stared at Yeats with his cat's smile.

Seconds later Yeats felt the sensation of falling. The air around them changed and he clung to the gunwale. Shari felt it, too, for she sat up straight as an arrow. A deep sensation of sorrow welled up inside him. Tears formed in the corners of Shari's eyes. Then, just as quickly as it came, the feeling left, only to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of confidence.