Demons of the Ocean (14 page)

Grace hesitated, but there seemed no point in not following them down and seeing where they led--not after she had come so far.They propelled her into another corridor, similar to the last but perhaps just a little bit narrower and strung with fewer lanterns. Was this home to more of them? It must be. Walking along, she quickly counted another thirty doors, then halted.Again, she reminded herself that both Lorcan and the captain had promised her their protection. The captain's assurances swirled back into her head.We're not after your blood. We have other ways to cater to the crew's needs.What had he meant by that? she wondered, half expecting to stumble upon a hold stacked with barrels of blood--a grotesque twist on a wine cellar. The thought of it made her tremble. Perhaps it was best to return to her cabin now after all.Just then, there

 was the unmistakable creak of a door opening. Grace stopped dead in her tracks. Which of the doors was it? Pressing herself into the wall, she glanced back and forth, waiting for the telltale sliver of light to reveal itself.She held her breath as a man stumbled out from inside a cabin a few doors down from where she stood. If he turned to the right, she would be instantly discovered. She wasn't sure what would happen then but she was reasonably confident it wouldn't be a happy experience--not for her at any rate.The man looked a little dazed and hovered outside the open door of his cabin for a moment, unsteady on his feet. Grace realized with a shock that it was the poor old man she had seen at her window, fleeing Sidorio's demands.Should she approach him? She was worried she might scare him. Besides, what if he wasn't the poor old man he appeared to be? What if he was a vampire, too--one who needed blood so badly he would roam the decks to beg for it?She decided to follow him and watch, without making contact. Not until she knew more about him. He seemed in a kind of trance. Perhaps this was the depleted state the vampires existed in during the daylight hours, weakened even without direct exposure to the sun.There was only so long Grace could hold her breath. Wishing she'd attended a few more swimming classes, she saw to her relief that the man had set off along the corridor in the other direction, reeling a little from side to side and reaching out his hands every now and then toward the narrow corridor's walls to steady himself.Grace let out a quiet breath of relief, and then set off after him, very slowly and quietly, pressing herself into the shadows and keeping a good distance between them.He disappeared from view, but she could hear his footsteps and she imagined he must have found the stairs to one of the other decks. Sure enough, she herself came to another flight of stairs, leading down still deeper into the ship. Beneath her, she saw his head fleetingly before he set off along the corridor below. She waited a couple of beats, then followed him.The next corridor was different. There was no carpet here and far fewer doors. Up ahead, a door was open and bright light spilled out. The vampire quickened his pace and darted into the lit doorway. Grace scuttled after him, diving silently into the shadows behind the door.Through the thin gap between the door and the wall, she could see that a sizable galley kitchen lay beyond. She could smell food, too. It was good. She hadn't been aware of her hunger, but the aroma was so good, it was utterly impossible to resist the heady smell. She had stepped out of the shadows and into the heart of the light. She might as well have stepped onto a spotlit theater stage. She found herself looking into the kitchen and facing a harassed-looking cook and the vampire, who seemed somewhat irritated by her appearance."Don't just stand there, missy," said the cook--a round, red-faced woman--"come in here and take a seat. I'll see to you in a minute, just wait your turn."The woman turned her head as Grace obediently pulled out a stool and sat down at a counter."Jamie! Jamie! Where has that boy got to?!"She tutted and turned back to the vampire Grace had followed. In the bright kitchen, his skin looked as pale and fragile as tracing paper."You wait there, Nathaniel," the cook said. "I'll fetch you a nice bowl of soup."Soup? Vampires didn't eat soup. Did they?But sure enough, the cook dipped a ladle into a saucepan of bubbling liquid and transferred it into a deep bowl. She set the bowl on a tray, with a hunk of black bread, cut from a loaf fresh from the oven, and passed it to the vampire.Vampires didn't eat bread, either--Grace was pretty sure of that.He dipped his nose into the spiraling steam and broke into a smile."That'll see you right, Nathaniel," said the cook.The vampire nodded at her and ambled out of the kitchen, carrying the tray. Grace wondered if he'd make it back to his cabin without dropping it."Now then, a hot bowl of broth for you, too?" The cook did not wait for an answer before dipping the ladle back into the bubbling saucepan."Jamie," she called over her shoulder, "Jamie, I hope you're not sleeping. There are plenty of jobs to do and I've only got the one pair of hands! Jamie!"Grace wasn't sure whether the cook's red face came from the steam and heat of the kitchen, or from shouting so much. Wasn't she afraid she'd disturb the crew, wake them from their sleep? The sleep of the dead, Grace thought ruefully."There we go, dig in," said the cook, placing a bowl of soup on the counter in front of Grace and slicing off a generous chunk of bread to go with it.Grace pulled herself closer to the counter and hungrily tucked in. The soup was delicious, though she was unsure exactly what flavor it was--certainly nothing she had ever tasted before. It was a deep pink color, but the bowl was soon clean and white and empty again."Well, someone was hungry!" the cook said. "Have a drop more? Yes, of course, rude not to!"With that, she seized the bowl and filled it to the brim again.Grace was surprised at the intensity of her own hunger. It was painful waiting for the second bowl to arrive before her. Impatiently, she tapped her foot against the stool as the cook sliced her some more bread. Grace realized that her body was crying out for food, for this food.It was a wonderful relief to dip her spoon back into the bowl and capture another mouthful of the broth. She barely drew breath as she spooned every last drop of it into her mouth. The black bread was as tasty as the broth. She tore it into pieces, and used it to mop up every lingering smear of soup from the side of the bowl."Will you look at that, Jamie?" the cook said. "The new ones are always the worst, aren't they?"

Grace looked up curiously, her tongue wiping the last droplets of soup from the sides of her mouth. The new ones. The new what? She was about to ask when she felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of tiredness. The cook and the boy in front of her became a blur. As her eyes clamped shut, she felt the spoon drop from her hand. It clattered on the floor, but the sound seemed far away in the distance. She fell backward but landed, thankfully, in a waiting pair of arms. After that, she relaxed into a deep, comfortable sleep.

CHAPTER 23

ACTION STATIONS

Connor and Bart took the second sitting of lunch. They were both ravenous after their morning's labors and tucked into mountainous portions of ocean pie, mashed sweet potatoes, and steamed seaweed. The seaweed was not only chewy, but tasted kind of nasty, and Connor pushed it to the side of his plate. "It's full of minerals," Bart told him, spooning an extra portion onto his own plate. "Great for building lean muscle." Connor tried another bite. It was like eating rubber shavings.As Bart lit a cigarette and went to fetch them both some tea, Connor let out a yawn. It had been a long morning and he was ready for a siesta. Looking around the mess hall, he could see the other pirates were in a similar frame of mind. A few had dozed off at the table and were lying on the benches or else slumped back against their neighbor. One unlucky soul had evidently been overcome by weariness during his meal and fallen headfirst into his mashed potatoes. Connor smiled--he was tired, but he wasn't that tired.Suddenly, a loud bell clanged. Connor jumped out of his seat. The bell clanged again. Pirates, who a moment ago had been snoring loudly, stirred into life and ran out of the mess hall, completely alert, swords jostling at their waists. All, that is, except the one laggard whose face was buried in his lunch."Come on, buddy, look lively."Bart thrust an enamel mug, brimming with tea, into Connor's hand."Bring it with you," he said."Where are we going?" Connor asked."Up to the main deck," Bart cried over the din. "Captain's briefing."

"Captain's briefing?"

"You'll see. Come on, get a move on. I want a good seat."The deck was filling up fast as Connor and Bart got there. Nevertheless, Bart managed to weave his way through the crowd and Connor followed in his wake. This was no mean feat, carrying a mug of tea, and Connor received more than one irate glance as he slopped hot tea on another pirate's jacket or over his boots. Somehow, they made it right to the front of the crowd. Connor sat down cross-legged and found himself at the feet of Captain Wrathe, who was deep in conversation with Cutlass Cate. Scrimshaw, Connor noticed, was circled around the captain's arm and appeared to be closely following Cate's words. Behind her, a large blackboard was propped on an easel and, as she talked to the captain, Cate's hand-flew across the board, leaving a blur of intricate chalk marks.Finally, the bell clanged again. Cheng Li arrived on deck, looking rather harassed."Why wasn't I told about this?" she snapped at Cutlass Cate, who shrugged and turned back to her blackboard."Captain Wrathe, I must speak with you," Cheng Li said.But the captain was having none of it. "After the briefing, Mistress Li," Connor heard him say."But, Captain, I really--"

"After the briefing." There was steel in his voice.Connor could see that relations between Captain Wrathe and his deputy were worsening every day. No wonder Cheng Li gave anyone who crossed her path a tongue-lashing. Her power on the ship appeared to be challenged at every turn. It didn't help that the pirates regarded Cutlass Cate with such natural respect and affection that anyone would think she was the deputy.

Captain Wrathe turned to face the expectant audience. "Okay. Is everybody here?"

"Aye, Captain," came the cry from a few of the pirates. As roll calls went, thought Connor, it was far from thorough."And is everybody in the mood to get filthy rich?" asked the captain.This time, there were rather more "ayes."

"Excellent, excellent," said

 Captain Wrathe, his eyes sparkling as brightly as the sapphires he wore on his fingers."Well, my friends, word has reached us of a ship that has lately departed from Puerto Paraiso, laden--I say LADEN--with fine treasures."Captain Wrathe's attention appeared distracted for a moment by the late arrival of one of his men."Sorry I'm late, Cap'n."A gawky pirate, his face half covered in mashed potato, squeezed into the space next to Bart."That's all right, Young Bobby," said Captain Wrathe. "You just finish your lunch now, eh?"There was a ricochet of laughter from the crew, but Captain Wrathe silenced it with a raise of his hand."As I say, this ship is heading up the coast. It seems that one of the richest dandies of Puerto Paraiso is shipping off some of his finest treasures to his summer house."

"Ooh, his summer house! That's posh!" cried one pirate."It is, Mister Joshua, isn't it?" answered Captain Wrathe, clearly amused. "I say 'house,' but really it's more like a palace."Connor was enjoying himself. He liked the way Captain Wrathe joked around with his crew. It was rather like watching a pantomime."Now, which of you fellows is up for a lark?" the captain asked."Aye, Captain."

"I'm sorry," said the captain, raising a hand to his ear, "I'm a little hard of hearing."

"AYE!" roared the pirates. Connor joined in the cry loudly. Captain Wrathe heard him and gave him a wink. Scrimshaw also appeared to look Connor right in the eye. It still unnerved him to be monitored by the snake."Marvelous," Captain Wrathe continued. "Well, by our calculations, the way their ship is sailing, we can catch it by teatime, board it, and be home with its booty in time for supper. You hear that, Bobby? In time for supper!"Bobby, who was licking the mashed potato off his face, nodded enthusiastically."Is everybody in?" Captain Wrathe cried."Aye, Captain," the crowd roared once more.But there was one voice that did not join in."Captain, a question."

"Yes, Mistress Li."

"Is this ship actually sailing in our sea lane? Puerto Paraiso is a way away."

"We've discussed this before, Mistress Li. I don't care for this notion of pirate captains being allocated sea lanes. If I see a ship of treasure sailing nearby, then why should I let another captain grab it?"

"Here, here!" came a hearty call from the crowd.Cheng Li shook her head. "With the utmost respect, Captain Wrathe, there are regulations laid down by the Pirate Federation..."Molucco Wrathe mimed a yawn, provoking a good deal of laughter in the crowd."I realize that you find this a boring topic, Captain, but--again, with utmost respect--I am the one who has to clean up the mess after we flagrantly ignore these regulations."

"I'm sorry that it affects you so."

"It affects all of us," Cheng Li said, her voice snapping. "If we enter another ship's sea lane, then we not only flout the rules of the sea, we invite attack from the pirates who we insult by trespassing into their waters."

"All right," Captain Wrathe said calmly. "All right, Mistress Li. Your point is fair. And The Diablo is a democracy. Let's put this to a vote. All those who feel we should let this treasure ship go, out of respect to our pirate comrades, say 'aye."There was silence on the deck. Connor winced to see Cheng Li humiliated so. He could only imagine the rage she was feeling inside. He knew it would find its way out at some time and he hoped he wouldn't be close by when it did.Captain Wrathe continued remorselessly. "Now, all those in favor of taking the treasure and taking our chances..."This time, there was a deafening response. Connor felt the deckboards resound with the noise. His heart beat fast and he felt a tingle all along his spine. He looked from Captain Wrathe to Bart, who had joined in the cheers spreading like wildfire across the deck. Connor looked over his shoulder and saw the sea of pirates chanting, hands raised in support of the captain."I think you have your answer, Mistress Li," Captain Wrathe said."Yes," she said, without granting him the courtesy of the formal greeting. Connor wondered if Captain Wrathe would bring her up on this, but he let it pass."I do hope you will feel able to still fight with us, Mistress Li. You are one of our more brutal attackers and I have no doubt we shall want you at the heart of this raid."