Isle of Fire (46 page)

“Why don't you?” came a voice from behind. Two men of very different heights stood in the shadows. The shorter man came forward while the giant remained silhouetted. The smaller man was nonetheless fierce. He had a scar that ruined one side of his face and an eye that was blood red. This man lifted a pistol and pointed it at Teach.

“You know,” said Teach, “I've had just about enough of this job. Here!” He threw a set of keys at Red Eye's feet. When Red Eye looked down to pick them up, Teach kicked the gun out of his hand. But Teach did not stay to fight. Instead, he ran the other way out of the cell deck.

“That was easy,” muttered Red Eye. He picked up the keys and the pistol and said, “Hopper, you can come out now.” Jules came forward, and like a puppy emerging from behind his master, Hopper came out from behind Jules. He trotted over to Dolphin's cell.

“My lady, get up,” Hopper cried out. “It's time to go.”

Bartholomew Thorne gripped the spyglass so hard it nearly cracked. He could not believe his eyes. Declan Ross had somehow found him after all this time. “But how?” Thorne asked aloud. “How did you know?” The
Robert Bruce
kept its distance but was firing madly.

Three other ships sailed near Ross and fired at the Raukar forces. Two of them Thorne did not recognize. But the other . . . the other was the
Oxford
. The blood drained from Thorne's face. “Blake . . . it cannot be!” Teach had assured him that Commodore Blake was dead. “MISTER TEACH!!” Thorne turned to look for Edward Teach but then remembered he'd sent his quartermaster down below to watch over Dolphin. “Brandir, come here, quickly!”

The Raukar warrior ran to his side. “Take the wheel,” Thorne said. “Keep us clear of those three ships. Let the Merchant and the others take them on.”

“Yes, sir,” said Brandir, liking the feel of the wheel. “But, ah?”

“I've got to go below for a moment,” Thorne warned him. “But I will be right back.”

Lightning crackled overhead, but the thunder was lost in the blasts of a multitude of cannons. Just before leaving the quarterdeck, Thorne gazed at the dark, undulating sky. The hurricane and its winds seemed to have shifted somewhat to the north. Perhaps the storm would not strike the island with its full force after all. Thorne dropped down from the quarterdeck and ran to the hatch that led below. He had a few questions for Edward Teach.

“I see them,” said Stede, looking through the spyglass, through the spray and chop. “They've got Dolphin! They've got her.”

Ross grabbed the spyglass. He saw the little boat bobbing up and down between tall waves. “I just hope they can make it back.”

“We're not quite in range,” said the Merchant. “Closer, Cat!”

“I'm fighting the sea and the wind to stay on their stern!” Cat yelled back. “Ross's ship has teeth. Remember, if they are in our range, we are in their range.”

“Anne!” yelled Father Brun from the deck of the
Constantine
. “The Merchant is maneuvering to the
Bruce
's backside!”

“Two can play at that game,” muttered Anne. She spun the wheel and a stiff wind slammed into her sails. The
Constantine
lurched forward and gained on the
Perdition's Gate.

Thorne ran down the final flight of stairs to the cell deck. He turned the corner, ran into the chamber, and found Dolphin's cell . . . empty. Edward Teach was nowhere to be seen.

“NOOOO!!” Thorne bellowed, and he kicked the cell door shut. Thorne took his bleeding stick out of its holster and ran back up the stairs.

Edward Teach and two other men from the
Talon
's crew found a cutter unguarded and slowly lowered it down from the stern. Then, like spiders hatching, they clambered down strands of rope to get to their escape vessel.

As they began to row, one of the men, a swarthy fellow named Bonds, asked, “Where are we going?”

Richard, the second man, laughed and said, “Nowhere but down in this gale!”

“Get us to Saba,” said Teach. “We can ride out the storm there. After that, I don't know.”

“I've heard Jamaica's nice,” said Bonds.

Thorne appeared on deck and stormed toward the helm. He didn't see Dolphin. He didn't see Teach. They could be anywhere on the ship, but somehow, he knew they had gone. “Why?” he muttered. “Why would you take her?”

He put his bleeding stick away and grabbed his spyglass. He looked out on the water and scanned the waves. There! Off to the stern, he saw a cutter. There were three figures in it. He focused the spyglass. It was Teach! “You stealing maggot!” Thorne was about to take the ship's wheel from Brandir, but then he saw the other two people in Teach's cutter. They were men . . . crewmen from the
Talon
. Thorne was confused.
Then where is Dolphin?

Thorne moved the spyglass back toward the
Robert Bruce.
“No!” Throne cried out. He saw another small ship—another cutter. It had almost reached the
Bruce
. It was too far away to see clearly, but in the briefest instant, Thorne thought he caught a glimpse of Dolphin's red hair.

31
DESPERATE MEASURES

O
ut of the corner of his eye, Cat saw the mast of the
Constantine.
It was just a fleeting glimpse—the tip of the mast, the rigging, a bit of sail—but it was enough. Cat's thoughts reeled.
There was no one
on the
Constantine
who could fight the wind and still knife in on his
flank like that, no one except . . . Anne! Anne was alive!
Cat was sure of it. The Merchant and his two goons, however, were not so observant. The Merchant was too intent on getting his own prey to see the threat to the
Perdition's Gate
.

Lightning flashed. The mast again. The
Constantine
was gaining, but Cat didn't turn his head, didn't want to alert the others. No, Cat wanted to let Anne pin them down. He wanted Anne to sink the
Perdition's Gate
. And he needed her to do it before the Merchant's ship got the
Bruce
in its sights. Another flash and the immediate thunder made Cat jump.

Cat didn't want to die, but if he had to lose his life to rid the world of a malignant rogue like the Merchant, then . . . that was what he would do. The mast came into view once more, again just a flicker in his peripheral vision—that's when a new plan began to form in Cat's mind. If Anne stayed after him, he might be able to . . . It would be a one-in-a-million chance, but he decided to try it. In this wind, who knew if it would even be possible to steer with such precision. The thunder continued to roll.