Raiders' Ransom (27 page)

Lilly nods, and pulls the sail about, heading us out of the main flow of the river. Her stupid little fishing boat cuts a slow pace through the water, slopping and slapping at the waves. Seems like it takes forever to get level even with Sheepshead. As we go round it, the island blocks sight of the southern bank and Ramseye Creek. All there is to see are the yellow, end-of-summer grasses growing all over the island, and the high tide lapping at all the bones scattered about the shore. We're going so slow I got time to count the skulls.

“What are they?” says Lexy.

“It's dead English,” I say.

“Is that where I'll be put if your father kills me?” she says, sounding scared.

“Zeph's talking trash,” snaps Lilly. “Those ain't humans, they're sheep skulls. Look at the horns.”

Lexy checks me like I hit her or something.

“It was only a joke,” I say. But I feel bad, so I tell her what Faz says about the island.

“This used to be farming land. But when the storms came, and the sea started swallowing up the land, the farmers legged it. And they was so scared they didn't even take their animals. The animals didn't have the sense to leg it, so they just headed for high ground. And when they'd done that, there was nowhere else to go. They waited for the water to go down, but it never did. And when they'd eaten all the grass, they died of hunger.”

Lexy's checkin' the island. At the pointy, horny, toothy skulls sticking out from the grass.

“Why didn't the farmers try to save them?”

I can't help laughing at that. “Coz they was English, and that's what you lot are like. Looking out for yourselves. That's why the Families got this land after we left Lunden. Coz it was empty.”

“We ain't all looking out for ourselves!” snaps Lilly. “And, anyway, I bet any bits that weren't empty of people got cleaned out sharp.”

I shrug.

“Too right. This is our land! No one helped us when Lunden was drowning and burning. When we was starving, or fighting off cannibals, or dying of plagues. We was saved coz the wind spirits led the first Families to the drowned lands, and showed them how to live here. And now they're ours.”

“Nice story,” says Lilly.

The boom snaps across, taking the sail with it. But I know well enough by now to get out of the way.

Lilly don't say anything for a bit, only frowns as she sails us slowly past the island. The sun's getting into the sky, lighting up everything in yellowy-orange, and when we finally get past Sheepshead, I check the southern shore again. But now Ramseye Creek ain't so dark and empty. There's a flash of red. A red sail easing out into the Maulden.

“Look! Over there!” squeaks Lexy. But she ain't pointing at the Ramseye, she's pointing way over at the northern shore. At a gang of red-sailed dragonboats sailing out of the creeks, and onto the river.

“Behind us!” cries Lilly, and when I swivel round, there's even more red sails following us up the river. It's like every creek and every island has coughed up an Angel Isling boat. And they're all sailing out into the Maulden.

“It's my father's fleet!” And I'm filled up with pride to see them all. Coz every one of them ships — big ones, little ones — has got weapons glinting and shields sparkling. And they're all in red. And they're everywhere.

“Look at it! There ain't been anything like it for fifty years! My father's gonna smash the English!”

“What's that?” says Lilly. She's pointing at Ramseye Creek, at the dragonboat. But there ain't just a warship now, there's something else. A dark spot, a black dagger cutting across the sky. It screams through the air, leaving a white trail of smoke. The trail leads back down to the warship. Look at it go!

“What is that?” asks Lilly again.

The rocket splits the blue-pink-orange of the morning sky. It could be a crow flying out of the dawn, but it don't have any wings. And it's going faster than any bird ever flew. Back on the dragonboat, there's the bright flash of swords and shields. That's where I should be! Not out here, on this stinking white-sail. The black dagger dips. It starts a downward
curve, whining out of the sky toward the water. It's beautiful.

“What is it?” screams Lilly.

The rocket touches the water.

BOOM!

Roaring, white, choking water. Above, around, I'm breathing it in. Waves slam like a storm, throwing the boat about. Screams. Lexy screaming. I'm trying to hold on, but it feels like the boat's being pulled to pieces. More water. Inside the boat, sloshing me about. I see Lexy through the white-water spray. Push an arm through all the roaring, cracking waves. Grab hold of her. The water around her is pink and frothy. The rocking gets less, the waves start to settle. The water falling on us is like a downpour, then a rainstorm, then drizzle, then it stops. I'm up to my knees in water. I'm soaked. The sail is swinging and flapping. It's half burned, ripped down one side. Through it I can see Lilly. She's clutching the tiller and that mog of hers. It looks like a rat. Lilly's brown face is gray, she's gasping and spluttering. Next to me, Lexy is struggling and crying. She's got a cut on her arm; she looks even littler and more draggled than ever.

I try to speak, but first I have to cough up a load of water.

“Rocket,” I say at last. “My father bought rockets.”

Lilly's eyes go black as I've ever seen them.

“Why did you bring us here?” she screams. “Do you want us to die?” She stops, checkin' her boat, checkin' out the water sloshing around inside. We're riding low, the waves nearly breaking over the sides.

“Bailing!” shouts Lilly. “Get bailing!”

Next to me, Lexy stops her crying. “My arm hurts,” she says.

I turn round to check her wound, but Lilly shouts, “Bailing first! Everything else after, or we'll be under.” And Lexy don't even quarrel, even though there's blood dripping down her arm. Just picks up a bucket and starts splashing water out. Lilly helps for a minute, then stops. She stares like she's working something out, then she starts hauling at lines. The sail swings about, with a flapping, dragging noise as it fills. Sunlight pours onto my face as the boat starts turning. I'm facing the sun, eyes squinting into the east.

“What are you doing?” I stop bailing.

“I'm heading for the English fleet.”

“No! We can't go that way!”

“Why not?”

“We've got to get to my … We'll be attacked!”

“We're already being attacked! And I reckon I got a better chance with Randall than you crazy raiders.”

Behind us, the dragonboat has pulled right into the river, swinging about to follow us. It's got a lion's-head pennant at the top of the mast. It's Father's dragonboat! My heart leaps up. I've gotta get to him. Tell him what's happened. Then my heart drops down to my stomach. Coz what's he gonna think if he sees me heading straight for Randall in a white-sail boat?

“You can't go for the English!”

“I ain't going any other way!” and she points north, south, and west, at the red sails coming for us from every direction.

“No. We can't go east!”

“Well, we are!” shouts Lilly, and turns away from me. I think about grabbing the tiller, but I remember what this bucket did when I tried it back on the Temz. Maybe it don't matter. It ain't like Lilly's gonna outrun Father's dragonboat, is it?

“Zeph,” says Lexy. “My arm's hurting.”

I search through the baskets and boxes until I find a bit of soggy cloth, then I wipe at Lexy's cut arm and bind it to stop the bleeding. Turns out it ain't too bad, not a really deep cut. But Lexy's tired, and shivering with cold, and there's nothing to warm her with coz everything's wet. So I take off my leather jacket and put it on her. It comes down to her knees, almost.

Then I look behind us. At Father's fleet filling up the Maulden with red sails, every ship filled with warriors. At Father's warship, the lion roaring above its sail, cutting through the water like a blade through butter. Every beat of the oar-drum bringing it closer. Lilly's little fishing boat ain't any kind of match for a Family dragonboat. Father'll catch us easy. We won't even make it to No Mercy Island, let alone the English fleet.

Fly, that's what I wish we could do. Pick up the sails like wings and take off. Get out of here, away from the raiders, away from these marshes and skull islands. 'Cept we ain't flying, we're barely even limping. I've trimmed that torn sail as tight as I can, trying to catch right into the wind, but the rip keeps slowing us. It huffs and sighs in stops and lurches, and every time the wind puffs out through the hole, them raiders make a gain on us. And the rip ain't all; the main halyard, which is holding up the mainsail, is all scorched and frayed by the rocket blast. I keep looking up, trying to work out if it's going to hold, or whether the fray's going to break the rope completely.

Cat's dried himself off now, and he's skittering about, yowling. When he ain't skittering, he's staring back at all them red-sail raider boats and the big dragonboat getting closer and closer.

“Yrowow!” he cries. And it doesn't take a cat's mate to know he means
go faster.
If only. Not with this ripped sail. Not with all them raiders rowing away on their big fat oars. And the raider drums thumping away just like my heart.

We've been chasing like this, just ahead of Medwin, for what seems like forever. I'm so tired it feels like my arms are going to fall off. And now the tide's sucking the river back out to sea, leaving wide beaches of thick brown mud, leaving less and less channel to sail down. And all the time, the raider warship's getting closer and closer, running us down.

The sun gives a blinding peek over the sail, and I'm squinting into the light. At the stacked-up sails of the English ships. There must be thirty of them, with their fat bulging hulls, and the white rigs like towers pushing up into the sky. They're just waiting — for the raiders, or for us. I hope Zeph ain't right about them thinking we're a raider trick. Maybe Andy'll see me, maybe he'll tell someone that I ain't a raider. But at least there's that chance with Randall. There ain't any with Medwin.

Out behind the English tall ships, there's other sails — smaller, silvery, flashing like metal. Scottish sunships, by the look of them. Maybe they'll help us? If only I had a talking box like Aileen, I could call them and beg for help.

Thump, thump, thump.
The sound of the raider drums. So loud. Right behind there's the dragonboat, with its carved dragonhead full of pointy yellow teeth. And it's trying to bite right into us.

Why can't we go faster? My neck, back, arms, and legs go tense, waiting for arrows, spears, and bullets to start flying. I scrunch down, trying to make as small a target as I can. And Zeph's no help, just staring back at the red sails behind us. He said he'd help us get away, but I'm starting to wonder. I can't figure him out. I
know
he saved me when I was on the wheel, and he helped us get away from Aileen. But then, he turned me over to them in the first place. And in the end, he's a raider and his pa is the Boss. So who knows what he'll do next?

I sneak a peek back at the dragonboat. There's Zeph's pa! Right at the prow, glaring down at us. Around him are his warriors, all wearing armor, all holding fearsome swords, and all angry-looking. The red sail fills the sky, the oars slam through the water. Medwin leans forward to get a good look at us, and his face goes dark with rage.

“Boy!” he roars across the water. “What are you doing on that boat? With the English spy-witch and my hostage?”

Zeph looks scared suddenly, like all the blood's been drained out of him.

“It was Aileen! She's a spy! She was chasing us!” His voice sounds small and scared; you can't hardly hear it over the sounds of the waves, the sail flapping, and the drums beating behind us.

“What are you talking about?” roars Medwin. “What's Aileen got to do with you, in a white-sail, when you should be fighting?”

“I didn't mean to …” cries Zeph. “I mean, it was an accident. I mean …” His voice trails into nothing. I don't reckon Medwin's even heard him.

“Father's gonna think I'm an English-lover,” he moans.

Medwin shouts again, roaring out over the waves.

“I should blast you out of the water! You traitor! You're nothing! You're no son of mine!”

Zeph looks like someone's pulled his heart out through his mouth.

“No, Father! Honest, I would never betray you …” But he's croaking, hardly speaking. His eyes are wide, and he's looking panicky at me and Lexy and the boat we're in.

“This is all your fault!” he shouts at me, and then he's crying.

But all I can think is how Medwin just said he's going to blast us out of the water. We've got to go faster, but I don't know if the sail's going to let us. It might not take the strain of close hauling, not with that rip.