Isle of Fire (38 page)

“Wetherby told us,” Blake said, glancing from Thorne to Jordan and back.

“And what did Nigel tell you about my activities?”

“Nothing else . . . just that you would be here.”

Without a moment's hesitation, Thorne thrust the sword two inches into Jordan's right shoulder. Jordan screamed and struggled in his chair.

“THORNE!” Blake yelled, straining against the guards. “Wetherby didn't tell us anything else . . . nothing . . . I swear to you.”

“I believe you,” said Thorne, his voice thickening and hoarse. He did not remove the tip of the sword from Jordan's wound.

“Now, did you send word to London telling them where I could be found?”

“No,” answered Blake, now drenched in sweat. “They wouldn't have believed me if I did. I told you they stripped my commission.”

Thorne slowly began to turn the sword blade, widening the wound. Jordan winced and then groaned.

“How easy it is for you to harm a helpless man!” Blake growled. “You weak, conniving—”

“Be silent,” said Thorne. He removed the sword, and blood poured down Jordan's arm. “I am a reasonable man. Just one more question. Did you or anyone on your ship send word of my location to anyone who is not on the
Oxford
?” Thorne watched Blake and Jordan, looking for just a hint of betrayal. He saw it: just a flicker of the eyes between the two . . . a questioning and an answering.

When Blake answered, “No, we sent no word at Ipswich,” Thorne had already drawn back the sword. He rammed it into Jordan's upper thigh and pulled up. Jordan howled in agony, growing louder and more frantic as Thorne lifted the blade. “You're lying,” was all he said.

Blake's lips disappeared and his eyes bulged. He struggled violently with the Raukar guards. Jordan's screams filled the chamber, and Thorne continued to pull at the flesh on the quartermaster's leg. “Tell me!” Thorne growled.

“Don't you say a blasted thing!” Jordan cried out, but Thorne twisted the blade.

“ROSS!!” Brandon Blake bellowed. “I left word in Edinburgh . . . for Ross . . .”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him you're on Gotland Island . . . that's all. I didn't know anything else. I still don't!”

“Did he get the message?”

“No,” seethed Blake. “No one in Edinburgh had seen Ross for months, and . . . he didn't show up while we were there.”

“Thank you, Commodore Blake,” said Thorne. “That will be all for now.”

“Wait!” Blake exclaimed, as the guard dragged him bodily from the chamber and out into the sunlight. He heard Jordan cry out again—a wretched, guttural cry. “Thorne, wait! NOOOO!” And then there was silence.

Thorne had all of his belongings taken aboard the
Raven's Revenge
. Since the fire long ago, he never liked to put down roots on land. Thorne stared at the portrait and wondered if Heather would respond to his news.

Declan Ross?
she said in his mind.
Those are ill tidings.

“Likely he won't be coming to Scotland any time soon,” Thorne countered. “Last I heard, he was skirting around my old haunts in the Caribbean.”

Still, he must not be underestimated.

“No, I won't make that mistake again.” Thorne picked at something in his teeth. “Ross knows nothing of our plans. If he comes here, he'll be taken just like Blake. In any case, I'll lead the Raukar fleet by the most southerly route. If Ross sails from Edinburgh, he'll miss us entirely by a hundred miles.”

“Sir?” Teach's voice came through the door.

“What is it?” Thorne growled.

The door cracked open just enough to let Teach's head appear. “Lady Fleur wants to know what we'll do with the
Oxford
.”

“Do?” Thorne replied. “We're going to use it to destroy London. That's what we'll do with it. Few ships have that kind of gunnery.”

“And what about the prisoners . . . Commodore Blake and his wife?”

“There was a woman on the
Oxford
?”

“Yeah, a real fine lady . . .” Teach stopped suddenly, staring up on the cabin wall.

“What is it, Edward?”

“Well, sir,” he replied, swallowing. “If you'll beg me pardon. She looks a fair bit like the lady in your paintin' there.”

A chill scratched across Thorne's scarred hand. He found himself oddly short of breath, but he wasn't sure why. “Bring Commodore Blake,” he said at last. “Bring his wife here as well, and imprison them below. Tell Lady Fleur she can do whatever she wants with the rest of the
Oxford
's crew.”

Bright blue eyes gleamed from the
Oxford
's crow's-nest. They'd missed him somehow. Then again, he knew every place to hide on the ship. But they took everyone else . . . rowed away to shore. Hopper prayed they weren't killed. He waited silently up in the crow's-nest. He waited and watched, hoping there might be something he could do to help.

25
CLUES AND COLD TRAILS

W
ell, let Thorne take England!” said Cutlass Jack as he and Declan Ross stomped up a long pier toward their ships. They had just returned from a maddening discussion at the palace in London. “What did I tell ye, Declan? The Brits have cut us off.”

“I'll see to it that you and your crew get taken care of,” said Ross, glowering.

“I'll thank ye fer that,” he replied. “But ye can't be payin' the whole Wolf fleet! With the king cuttin' 'em off like this, men'll be twice the enemy of England!”

“And what's more,” said Ross, “they've stripped Blake of his command. He was the one man in the British navy I could trust.”

The two captains stopped on the pier directly between their two ships. “What now?” asked Jack.

“There's no sign of Thorne,” said Ross, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “No sign of Blake . . . ah! I need time to think this through.”

“Not here, though,” said Jack.

“No,” said Ross. “Our welcome is worn quite thin.”

“Well, I'm part a' yer plan, whatever it be,” said Jack, slapping Ross on the shoulder. “But I pray yer not plannin' to head back t' the islands . . . are ye? I mean the lads are half-mad from sailin' nonstop like we did.”

“No, you're right,” said Ross, his eyes brightening. “We do need a break. We sail for Edinburgh.”

“O'Lordan's?” Jack asked.

Ross grinned. “Is there any other place?”

“Ah . . . ,” said Jack. “I can taste the meat pies now.”

Anne had the wheel of the
Constantine
. She looked over her shoulder at the island of New Providence, now disappearing in the ship's wake. “I don't understand what has happened,” said Anne.

Father Brun stood at her side. “I want to know why Commodore Blake was so abruptly called away to England.”

“The servants certainly seemed concerned,” said Anne.

“As am I.” Father Brun's tone was unusually hard. “And just what does King George think he's doing reneging on our deal? He can spend or not spend England's wealth as he sees fit. But to stop payment to the pirate-hunting fleet and claim the Brethren's share of the treasure for England . . . we'll just see about that.”

Wind suddenly snapped the sails taut. Anne looked off the starboard bow where an angry thatch of dark clouds swirled. “Glad we're not sailing through that,” said Anne.

“Hurricane?”

“Hard to tell,” Anne replied, shaking her head. “I've only seen a hurricane at sea twice, and one was when I was too little to remember.” She watched a white thread of lightning reach down from the distant clouds to the sea. “Bad enough. But the wind out here on its fringe will give us a bit more speed.”

Father Brun also watched the storm. “Good. The faster we get to England . . . the better.”

Hopper saw the cutter come to the big ship next to the
Oxford
and then go. And now it returned once more with the same man at the bow. But this time, seated in the stern between huge, armored guards were Commodore Blake and Lady Dolphin. Hopper looked at the mooring lines between the
Oxford
and the other ship.
The lines will
get me to it, but it's not going to be much fun!
he thought.
And no mistake.
Still, he'd have to try. It wouldn't be the first time.