Isle of Fire (50 page)

Anne saw Cat fall and then her father, but there were too many enemies around her. She couldn't fight her way through. She was forced to watch from a distance while fending off attacks. “Cat!” she screamed. “Da!”

Dolphin stood on the main deck of the
Bruce
and saw Ross fall. She watched as Thorne cut a leather strap from his boot and lashed Ross's arms to the rail. Then he unscrewed his bleeding stick so it became a flail weapon. Dolphin cried out, but no one heard. She had no weapon. There was nothing she could do. Then, suddenly, it came to her. But she needed to get closer.

Thorne let the perilous head of his bleeding stick dangle and swing. Then he retreated a few steps and let the weapon fly at Ross's back, opening a huge bloody gash. He raised the weapon again and—

“Bartholomew, STOP!!” came a voice from behind.

Thorne knew that voice, and his next swing went errant. The head of the weapon embedded itself on the rail.

“How could you let the British get to me, Bartholomew?”

“Heather?” He dropped the handle of his weapon and turned slowly.

Lady Dolphin stood at the bow rail of the
Bruce
. Her eyes seemed vacant. Her crimson hair was matted from the rain, and thin red locks curled down her forehead and cheeks like blood trails from small wounds. Dolphin lifted her hand and pointed accusingly at Thorne. “You let me burn!”

“No!” Thorne lifted his hands.

Just at that moment, Ross revived. He took in the scene, saw Thorne distracted, and knew he had to act. The leather strap that bound his arms to the rail was not tight. Ross freed one arm and then the other.

Dolphin's voice rose to an agonizing shriek. “You let the fire take me . . . and our child!”

Thorne's mouth opened and closed, voicelessly mouthing “no . . . no . . . no.”

Ross rose behind Thorne. Quick as lightning, he grabbed Thorne at the shoulder and waist and rammed his head into the rail. Disoriented a moment, Thorne fell to one knee. But he managed to draw his cutlass and began to rise.

Without a weapon himself, Ross grabbed the handle of the bleeding stick and slung a loop of its chain around Thorne's neck. He shoved the handle inside the loop, pulled it down, and tightened it like a noose. Thorne gagged and dropped his sword. He flailed, pulling at the handle for several seconds, and then slumped to the deck.

Streaks of rain and blood ran down Ross's face, but he wiped them away. He could only stare at the nearby still form of the man who had murdered his Abigail, had killed so many, caused so much agony . . . now dead at last. Ross backed away a few steps and then turned to look for Cat.

“Declan!” Stede appeared at the top of the forecastle ladder. Ross's old friend ran to embrace him but then he saw Cat lying in a heap near the starboard rail. Neither Ross nor Stede saw Bartholomew Thorne as he slowly clambered to his feet. The flail weapon's chain was still knotted around his neck, but Thorne drew a pistol and leveled it at Ross's back.

Dolphin saw the scene unfold from the
Bruce
. “Captain Ross!!” she cried.

A powerful gunshot blast thundered. Ross's eyes went wide and he swayed.

Thorne dropped his pistol and staggered backward. Blood spread from a dozen new wounds on his chest and stomach, and his mouth fell open. One raspy breath escaped before he slammed into the rail and fell overboard. The chain of Thorne's bleeding stick held, the noose tightened, and Thorne hung from the bow of his own ship.

Ross, still wide-eyed, stared at the smoking muzzle of Stede's thunder gun. “But just after we boarded, I heard you fire . . .”

Stede grinned. “I reloaded, mon.”

Ross grabbed Stede by the cheeks and kissed his forehead. “That's another lifetime of friendship I owe you.”

“I b'thinkin' that's seven now.” Stede laughed. But the levity was short-lived. The
Raven's Revenge
pitched suddenly and began to shudder. Ross and Stede ran to Cat's side even as the ship began to list. Ross looked up and saw that the ships were shifting, separating from each other. Ross ran to the edge of the forecastle and bellowed, “Crew of the
Robert Bruce
. . . return to the ship!”

Ross and Stede managed to hand Cat up to Jules, who leaned over the rail of the
Bruce
, and then they went to work on the ship's wheel. Stede blasted the hub with his thunder gun, and he and Ross kicked at it until the wheel cracked and fell free. Then they tossed the wheel of the
Raven's Revenge
into the sea.

Just as the ships pulled apart, Ross and Stede went to the rigging and climbed for their lives. They dove from one ship to the other. Ross found Anne and Father Brun waiting on the quarterdeck. “Did we all make it?” Ross asked.

Father Brun looked up grimly. “All who were still living are back on the ship.” They turned and watched the
Raven's Revenge
plunge back into the storm. They could still see Thorne's feet dangling as the wind swallowed up the ship.

Stede looked up at the approaching wall of clouds and said, “The
Bruce
b' not surviving another bout with the storm. B' no chance at all.”

“I know,” said Ross, glancing at Anne and the others assembled there. “At least we're all here together.”

“It ain't so bad here, is it, my lady?” Hopper smiled at Dolphin, and then looked up through the hurricane's eye at the stars and said, “I like it here.”

Anne said, “I like it here too.”

Cat gave Anne's hand an affectionate squeeze. He looked up at Captain Ross and smiled.

34
OUT OF THE GRAY

C
ommodore Brandon Blake grabbed another armful of palm fronds and debris and carried it to a massive pile fifty yards from the Citadel's gatehouse. He was one of many moving silently from the fire and storm-ravaged walls to various mounds and heaps of wreckage. But even among the monks of the Brethren, Commodore Blake felt like the loneliest person on the face of the earth. He'd made a decision to let his beloved Dolphin sail out of his sight. She and the others had disappeared into the hurricane and had not returned. In fact, no one who sailed into that storm had returned.

The storm had indeed turned north, so it spared the island of Saba its most intense winds and rain. And even as the Brethren defeated the last of the Berserkers and Raukar invaders, the rain put out the last of their fires. The damage to the walls was considerable, but not permanent. The main keep was barely touched at all. But the Brethren had lost many of its faithful including Father Henry and Father Hoyt. Brandon Blake had lost everyone.

The mid-afternoon sky was still leaden and overcast. The winds still swirled and spat moisture, but the storm was gone. A merchant who arrived earlier in the morning reported that the storm weakened a great deal before dissipating over the Turks. Blake dropped off another armful of debris and stared out to the horizon. All the while, staring out to the gray, he walked to the shore, took off his boots, and let the water run over his feet.

The
Oxford
, what was left of it, was moored just offshore and floated ponderously on the light surf. Blake looked at the tattered sails and thought about the last several years of his life. He'd witnessed some of the vilest atrocities ever committed by a man. He'd also seen men change, seen them do good when they had every reason to do evil. And Blake wondered about that.

Something caught Blake's eye, and his heart jumped. There was something on the horizon—a ship. But as it came closer, he saw that it had only one square sail.
Just another merchant or fisherman.
Gulls cried overhead, and Blake watched them drift on the breeze. He turned back and looked again at the sail.
It is a tall ship for just one
sail
, he thought. In fact, Blake didn't know of any ships of that size with one mast and one sail.

The bell in the Citadel's keep tower began to ring. Members of the Brethren streamed out of the keep and joined Blake at the shore. They pointed to the sea and whispered. The ship drew nearer still. Commodore Brandon Blake dropped to his knees. For even with its swinging bowsprit broken clean off, Blake knew the ship was the
Robert Bruce
. And standing at the bow rail was a woman with scarlet hair blowing in the wind.