Demons of the Ocean (5 page)

"We were caught in the storm. Me and my sister, Grace--we're twins. We came from Crescent Moon Bay..."As Connor talked, he tried to keep Captain Wrathe's gaze, but was distracted by the man's hair. The wind was blowing it about and a long dark lock was now hanging down over one eye."You're not much of a storyteller, are you, boy?"Connor opened his mouth to continue, but as he did so, the lock of hair turned and moved back across Captain Wrathe's forehead. And then Connor realized. It wasn't a lock of hair at all. It was a small snake."What's up? Cat got your tongue, kid?"

"I'm sorry, Captain Wrathe, but I think you have a... a snake in your hair."There was no doubt about it. The creature had almost escaped from the tangle of hair and seashells and was easing its way down past the captain's ear."Aha," said Captain Wrathe, smiling. "Hello, Scrimshaw, have you come to say hello to Mister Tempest?"He raised his hand and the snake slipped onto it, curling itself fondly about his wrist, like a living bangle. Connor watched, fascinated, as Captain Wrathe

 held out his arm in front of him, so that Scrimshaw could come nearer. The snake raised itself to look Connor in the eye. Connor wasn't sure what he was supposed to do in response."Say hello to the deputy captain, boy!" Molucco Wrathe chuckled. "Oh, I'm only joking, Mistress Li! Just my joke. We all know you're second-in-command."Connor said nothing. He didn't want to make any sudden movement. This snake was small but it wasn't a breed he recognized. It could be venomous, and its open mouth and outstretched tongue were rather too close for comfort.Captain Wrathe eventually moved his arm and Connor let out a small sigh of relief as the snake was carried away on it."All right, Scrimshaw. You've gawked at Mister Tempest enough, now let's pop you back." Captain Wrathe lifted his hand up to his head and Scrimshaw obediently burrowed back into the unruly thicket of hair."Now, where were we, kid? You were telling us about Harvest Moon Gulch?"

"Um, Crescent Moon Bay, Captain. We live there. Well, we did. Our dad was the lighthouse keeper but he died and we lost everything. They were going to put us in the orphanage, or worse. We had to leave. So we put out to sea in our dad's boat. We only meant to sail down the coast, but the weather changed. The storm caught us."Connor's words came out in a torrent. "The boat capsized. We were thrown into the ocean. The boat was breaking into pieces. I swam as hard as I could to the surface, trying to avoid all the stuff that was falling on me. I couldn't see Grace. I got to the surface. There was a broken bit of seat that I made into a float. I looked for her. I searched in the water and all around me, but I couldn't see her... I couldn't see her."Molucco Wrathe's eyes were wet with tears. He lifted a large lace-edged handkerchief from his pocket to dab them dry."What a sad tale, Mister Tempest. What a terribly, terribly sad tale. I'm just glad Mistress Li found you when she did. You'll be a welcome addition to our crew. We need more young ones."

"Thank you, Captain Wrathe, but all I want is to find my sister."

"Your sister?" Molucco Wrathe raised a confused eye at him. "But I thought you said she was lost."Connor shook his head determinedly. "I saw her being carried onto another ship. At first I thought it was this one..."

"Another ship? Another pirate ship? Well, it seems your tale shall have its happy ending after all. We'll find the ship and you shall be reunited with your sister."Connor shook his head. "It wasn't a pirate ship, sir. It was a different kind of ship."He could feel Cheng Li's stare burning into him, though he didn't dare look in her direction."A different kind of ship," Captain Wrathe echoed. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

"Have you heard of the Vampirates, Captain?"

"The Vam-pi-rates? Can't say that I have, my boy."

"There's this shanty, sir--"

"Captain Wrathe." Cheng Li's voice cut through the air, as sharp and potent as a sword.Captain Wrathe ignored her."Captain Wrathe." She would not be easily deterred. "Hold your thunder, Mistress Li."

"But Captain Wrathe, the boy is confused."

"I'm sure we're all a little confused, Mistress Li, but I asked the boy a question and I intend to have his answer."

"The Vampirate ship is a dark ship that has been sailing through all eternity," Connor said, realizing that he might not have much time. "It's crewed by demons or, at least, vampires."

"What a tale!" Captain Wrathe said. "And how did you come to this knowledge, my boy?"

"My father," Connor said. "My father sang us the shanty."

"A shanty, eh? I love a good shanty. We all do, don't we, lads?"The crowd of pirates shouted their approval--men and women, all but Cheng Li, who looked angry and bored. At least, thought Connor, the thrust of her anger now seemed directed at Captain Wrathe rather than him."Well, let us hear this shanty," Captain Wrathe said. "Come, Mister Connor Tempest. You sing us your father's song and we'll see what we make of it."Connor took a deep breath and began to sing.

I'll tell you a tale of Vampirates.A tale as old as true...As he sang, he watched the captain's face. He seemed to be listening intently. Even his snake, Scrimshaw, leaned forward as if charmed by the singing.Connor's voice was tired and cracked from the sea water he'd taken in while fighting for his life. He was grateful to reach the final lines.That thine eyes never see a vampirate...... and they never Lay a hand on thee.As he finished, there were shouts of approval from the crowd and a flurry of clapping. Then silence. Connor looked from Cheng Li to Captain Wrathe. The captain stepped forward and put his hand on Connor's shoulder."It's a fine song, my boy. But I fear that's all it is. I've been sailing the oceans since I was a babe in arms and I have never seen nor heard tale of such demons."Connor shook his head. "I saw the ship."

"You saw it?"

"I think so. It turned in the water. It was an old galleon with sails like wings, flapping--"

"The boy is tired and confused," Cheng Li said, stepping forward to the captain's side.

"No," Connor said. "No, I did see it."But he could see that, as much as he might want to, Captain Wrathe didn't believe him, either. Now Connor was starting to lose trust in his own memory. Maybe he had been delirious and had summoned up the image himself. He didn't know what to think anymore."Back to business, everyone," said Captain Wrathe. "Wait--Bartholomew, you stay here."Obediently, the pirates peeled away. Bartholomew hung back, as requested by Captain Wrathe. And Cheng Li hovered, unasked, behind him.Captain Wrathe reached out his arm to Connor's shoulder, gripping it in a way that made Connor think of his own dad. He tried to push away the memory, biting down on his lip to prevent tears from falling."I have two brothers, Mister Tempest. Two pirate brothers. I don't always like 'em, but I love each of 'em to the very depths of my soul. I can see why you'd cling onto anything to believe your sister--Grace--was safe. But, for your own sake, you must face the truth--however awful a truth it may be."Captain Wrathe looked deep into Connor's eyes."You've come to us on the darkest of your days, Connor Tempest, but we'll steer you back into the sunshine. You just see if we don't."Connor nodded uncertainly, looking up from Captain Wrathe's face to the ship's mast. His eyes climbed higher still, up past the crow's nest, until they settled on the skull and crossbones, flapping in the breeze. The sky was an almost perfect indigo now but the moon had risen, sending its cool rays onto the white skull.

CHAPTER 9

CABIN FEVER

Grace was awakened by the sound of a bell tolling. Like the captain's whisper, each toll seemed to seep into every chamber and crevice of her brain.Opening her eyes, she found herself in a four-poster bed. She was propped up amid a sea of fresh white pillows and tucked under the softest sheets she had ever felt. She lay there for a moment, utterly still. The sound of the bell gave way to a strange music--punctuated by a rhythmic, almost tribal drumming.Her arms were bare and, lifting the sheets, she saw that her old, wet clothes had been removed and she was wearing a pretty cotton nightdress, embroidered in intricate detail. Where had it come from? Who did it belong to?

And who, she wondered with embarrassment, had undressed her?The music was growing louder. Easing herself up onto her elbows, she glanced around the room. It was lit with candles in glass lanterns, which cast the softest light flickering across the wooden walls and floorboards. As she set her feet on the floor, the ship rocked to one side. It took her a moment or two to get her balance.She stepped away from the bed, noticing that the wooden posts ended in intricate carvings. The canopy above the bed was heavily embroidered. To one side of the bed was a small, open washroom with a china basin and a jug of water. Everything in the room seemed exotic and luxurious. Perhaps these items had been acquired on the ship's many voyages, thought Grace.Outside, she heard voices over the persistent music. Grace turned toward the noise. She saw that there was a curtain, evidently covering a porthole. A note had been pinned onto the curtain. She stepped closer to read it.[handwritten text:Grace, please keep this curtain drawn at all times. For your own safety.Your friend,Lorcan Furey]

His writing was rather old-fashioned but wild. He had used a fountain pen, and ink had splattered over the page. What did he mean by "for your own safety"? Both the words and the apparently hurried fashion in which they had been written made her shiver.She reached for the curtain. It was very tempting to ignore Lorcan's request. Something the captain had said earlier came back to her. We don't want the others to know about this. Who were the others? What kind of ship was this?Just then, she caught a snatch of conversation, right outside the porthole."I have such a hunger tonight."

"As do I. I have never needed the Feast so much as this night."The Feast. The Captain had mentioned that, too. It was clearly an important and eagerly awaited event. The crew sounded extremely hungry. Perhaps they hadn't eaten properly for some time. Maybe the ship had only just stocked up on fresh provisions.Grace pressed her head closer to the curtain to hear more, but the people who had been speaking must have moved on. She waited for a while, fighting the temptation to draw back the curtain and look out onto the deck. Glancing at the candles in the cabin, she wondered if she might extinguish them, so that there was no light, and then risk drawing back the curtain.

Before she had a chance to act on this impulse, a rough voice--right outside the window--caught her attention. "Midshipman Furey."

"Lieutenant Sidorio."She recognized Lorcan's Irish brogue."Ready for the Feast, Mister Furey?"

"That I am, Lieutenant."

"Thought I heard you out

 on deck earlier."

"No, Lieutenant. Out on deck? When would that be?"

"Before the Nightfall Bell."

"Before... how could I? No one but the captain ventures out into the light."

"I know that. But I could have sworn it was you."

"Maybe you dreamed it," Lorcan said."I don't have dreams anymore."Their voices were drowned out by a rise in the volume of the music. Grace pressed still closer to the curtain, her forehead brushing Lorcan's hastily written note. But now all she could hear was the music. Lorcan and his rather suspicious-sounding companion appeared to have moved on.She weighed up the conversation she had overheard. Lorcan certainly had been outside. Clearly, he and the captain were intent on keeping her presence a secret. But what was the Nightfall Bell and why couldn't anyone but the captain go out into the light? It seemed a strange rule.She waited by the porthole, hoping to hear something further. She thought she could hear footsteps, but the sound was muffled and it might just have been the beat of the music. It lasted a while, and then gave way to silence. Utter silence. It seemed as if they had all come inside for the Feast.Grace turned away from the porthole. Facing her was a little writing desk, with a chair tucked beside it. She walked over to the desk. Its surface was crammed with pens, ink, sharpened pencils, and a stack of notebooks. There was something deliciously inviting about the bound notebooks. She lifted an old fountain pen, but it slipped in her hand and the nib pricked her thumb. A bulb of blood quickly formed on her skin. A drop fell down onto one of the notebooks.Instinctively, she lifted her thumb to her mouth to suck the wound clean. It was something she'd done countless times before, after a paper cut or pricking her thumb on a thorny rose stem. The blood tasted metallic but not unpleasant.When she removed her thumb, the narrow wound was clean. But there was nothing she could do to remove the mark from the cover of the notebook. She glanced down at the pen, its nib also now stained deep red, as if she had dipped it in crimson ink. She shivered and looked around for a distraction.Her eyes lit upon a lacquered chest of drawers, painted with unfamiliar characters, and set upon it, an ornately engraved silver hairbrush and mirror. Inset into both were gems that sparkled like freshly cut diamonds. She picked up the mirror, turning it over to look at her reflection. The frame no longer held a looking glass. It was clearly old and broken. What a shame.Beside the mirror and hairbrush was a small wooden incense burner. It was lit and sent out a rich, soporific scent of vanilla and jasmine flowers.She was aware of feeling very tired and retreated to the bed, sinking into the comfort of the mattress. Suddenly, she thought of Connor. What had she been doing, idly exploring this cabin? All her thoughts should have been of her brother and how she was going to find him again.Maybe he had already been found. But, if so, wouldn't they have brought him to her? The captain had told Lorcan to come to his cabin. She remembered that. What, she wondered, had been decided there? Panic flowed through her veins like icy water.She had to get out of this cabin. She had to speak to Lorcan and the captain. Had to find out if Connor was on board the ship--and if he was safe.Berating herself for not having done so earlier, she strode away from the bed toward the door. She reached out her hand and turned the door handle. It was a perfect brass globe, engraved with a map of the world. Her hand slipped off on her first attempt. She tried again. The globe twisted but the door did not give. On her third attempt, she pressed so tightly that her palm came away imprinted with the reversed outlines of the countries of the world. Still the door did not open. It was locked.Brimming with frustration and anger, feeling increasingly tired and weak, Grace staggered back across the cabin, toward the curtain. She looked again at Lorcan's warning.[handwritten text:... please keep this curtain drawn at all times.]Taking a deep breath, she lifted the curtain and pressed her face flush against the icy porthole.Her heart pounding, she looked out through the glass. She half expected an alarm to sound, or else to find herself staring into the angry eyes of Lorcan or the mysterious captain. But there was no alarm. And there was no one staring back at her. All she saw through the window was the deck. It was deserted. Of course it was. They--whoever they were--had come inside for the Feast.Lucky them. She was hungry herself, but they hadn't thought to bring her any food. She was hungry and tired and weak. Her father was gone. And now it looked like her brother might very well be lost to her, too. Feeling utterly dejected, Grace roughly pulled the curtain back across the porthole.As she turned around, wondering what to do next, she saw a bowl of soup on the bedside table. It hadn't been there before, had it? How could she have missed it?She cupped her hands around the bowl. It was piping hot and she quickly pulled her hands away. It could not have been sitting there when she awoke or it would have cooled by now. How had it got there? Where had it come from? She watched steam spiral from the bowl, puzzled. Her bafflement soon gave way to hunger. Like the rest of the crew, it had been some time since she'd eaten and the soup smelled so good.Beside the bowl was a spoon, wrapped in a cloth napkin. As she unwrapped the napkin, a note fell out and fluttered to the floor. Grace knelt down to retrieve it. It was written in the same spidery writing as before.[handwritten text:Drink this. It will make you feel better. Be patient!Your friend,Lorcan Furey]Be patient! Grace frowned. She had ended up on a very strange ship indeed. Where no one but the captain ventured out before nightfall. Where you wished for food and it appeared at your side. Where no one was supposed to know she was here. It was too much to take in.At least they had brought her some food. She lifted the spoon and dipped it deep into the bowl. It tasted like no food she had ever tasted before. Absolutely delicious.