The Sea Wolves

Page 14

He paced the hold, thinking of those who had been in here so recently. Their scents still hung in the air. It was the smell of desperation. He wondered why Ghost wanted Sabine with him now, how the attack would unfold, and what the results would be. Over a hundred people on that ship, Sabine had said. Soon this room would be full once again.

At last Jack sat down, heart heavy with the knowledge that there was nothing he could do. Fate had brought these two ships together—fate, and Sabine’s unnatural skills—and all that was left was for their encounter to play out.

It was several hours until they drew close to the other ship, and then there was shouting, and the thump of hulls nudging against each other. Following that, a strange kind of calm for a while—casual footsteps on the deck above him, the hush of the sea forced between hulls, and once or twice Jack was sure he heard laughter. Down in the dark hold, he stood in silence and tried to imagine what might be happening. He knew that the quiet was misleading.

The first time he heard the sound, he wasn’t sure it was gunfire. He caught his breath and pressed his ear to the door, feeling the cool draft where door met the uneven frame. Then it came again, and again. Crack … crack crack! He’d heard enough shooting in his life to recognize the sound, and now he knew for sure that the attack was on.

Where’s Sabine, where’s Ghost, what is he having her do, is he keeping her safe? These ideas tumbled, stirred by confusion and concern. He paced the room, then started slamming into the door. It rattled in its frame but held fast. He kicked at where he knew the bolts to be, but though the wood creaked, they were firm. He knew that the room was built to keep people in, sometimes for many days, but there was little else for him to do.

“Damn you!” he screamed, frustration getting the better of him. Shouting would achieve nothing. “Damn you, Ghost!”

More gunshots, some screaming, and then a low, deep boom that vibrated all through the ship and seemed to knock the breath from his lungs. He staggered against the wall and felt the echo of the noise passing away through the wood.

With a crash, one of the doors leading into the hold gangway was thrown open. Here they come, Jack thought, and he pressed himself against the wall beside the door.

A terrible idea settled in him then, and it took his breath away that he had not considered it before: prisoners from the Weyden would be thrown inside, and he would be left with them, able to tell them everything that was to come, but powerless to resist … because what if Ghost had tired of him already?

Panic gripped him, more from the idea that he might never see Sabine again than from anything else. Preparing to fight and run, he listened for voices outside but heard only two sets of footsteps.

The door opened and a huge arm swung in, grabbing Jack around the throat and pulling him out. It was Ogre. He flung Jack along the gangway without even looking at him, casting him away like a bag of flour. Kelly was there to catch him.

“Fun’s almost over, Cooky,” Kelly said. “Captain says you can come out now.”

Jack blinked in confusion, and then the truth struck him hard. The full moon had just passed. They took prisoners so that they had something to feed upon when the moon forced them to change, when they were so bestial that they could not think clearly and might end up killing one another if they didn’t have humans to slaughter. But with nearly a month to go before the next full moon, if they took prisoners now, there would be screaming and crying for an entire month, and those unfortunates would need feeding and watering.

Which meant there would be no survivors from the Weyden today.

Jack felt sick. He wanted to kill Ghost there and then. Kelly smiled at him. Ogre saw the look of fury and hatred in Jack’s eyes and backhanded him. Blood sprayed from Jack’s nose and he crashed against the wall again, hauling himself upright only a foot from Kelly. There was a knife in the pirate’s belt. If he was quick, if he moved silently, and if he didn’t hesitate for one instant, maybe—

“Don’t be stupid,” Kelly said. “You think you’re faster than me?”

The pirate glanced sidelong at Jack, and there was blood streaking the man’s shoulder and chest. His shirt was holed, and he held his arm awkwardly. Jack thought it almost certain that Kelly had been shot.

“I hope it hurt,” Jack said, stepping out into the gangway.

“What’s pain?” Kelly asked. Then he slammed the door closed and fixed the padlocks again, and he and Ogre walked away without sparing Jack another glance.

Jack fled in the other direction, back toward the mess and galley. He plucked up a knife and tucked it into his belt. He paused for a moment, breathing deeply and gathering his thoughts. There were priorities here, and he had to ensure he kept them straight in his head. Otherwise—

Another boom pounded through the ship, carried on the air and conducted through the Larsen’s structure, and Jack’s ears ached with its aftermath. He ran back through the mess and up the steep staircase onto the deck, making sure his loose shirt covered the knife’s handle.

Sunlight struck him, unexpectedly bright and warm, and he took a moment to absorb what was happening.

The ship was not as large as the Umatilla, but its deck rail was still several feet higher than the Larsen’s. Smoke billowed from its stern, and he could see that the vessel sat low in the water. One of the twins—he could not tell if it was Huginn or Muninn—appeared for a moment, tilted back his head to scent the air, and then slipped toward a doorway and vanished within. A huge wolf shape dashed across the deck, and more gunfire erupted from somewhere out of sight. Jack ducked down and heard laughter from behind him.

“Scared of catching lead, Cooky?” It was Louis, standing close to the Larsen’s locked wheel with a rifle in his hands.

Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he walked along the deck toward the forecastle, keeping to starboard, away from where the ship was tied portside to the Weyden. He passed the place where the skiff had been ripped away by the storm. On the deck stood a collection of trunks, baggage, and leather bags, one of them ruptured and spilling jewelry and coins. Tree hoisted one of the trunks and went into the forecastle, headed for the hold, and Jack realized that the food store down below must also hold the riches the pirates had stolen from the Umatilla and other vessels. Treasure, every piece stained with the blood of its original owners.

Ogre and Kelly emerged from the forecastle—they must have passed Tree—and Jack thought they would carry more of the looted valuables below. Instead, they clambered up ropes to the Weyden’s deck, neither of them sparing a glance for Jack. For such a monstrous mass, Ogre climbed with an unexpected grace, dropping onto the slightly higher deck in a crouch. Kelly stood beside him, scratching at his gunshot wound as if it were an insect bite. He clapped Ogre on the shoulder, and they disappeared through a door into the other ship’s superstructure.