Across The Sea (22 page)

Modo, his vision scrambled,
leaped to his feet and turned to Lily – as, one after the other,
Lily lobbed three rope contraptions at him. She realized Modo knew
how to disengage them so she needed to let loose as many at him as
possible. Modo fell to the floor as all three contraptions bound
themselves around him.

Lily grabbed the last three
rope weapons and moved toward Mister Wazee who, with one free hand,
attempted to drag himself toward the door.

“How do I get out of this!” he
cried. “Modo, you silly man-child, tell me!”

Lily stood over him and threw
down a second contraption.

“Ugh!” Mister Wazee shouted,
frustrated as five new ropes enclosed themselves on all four of his
limbs. “Your ridiculous toys!”

Lily was already past Modo,
snatching his rapier off the floor and heading toward the door.

“I will kill you!” Modo
shouted, as he tried to move his arms to release himself but the
three contraptions together made it impossible.

Two deckhands in green uniforms
ran down the stairs with swords drawn. Lily took a step back and as
the first man entered the room, she hurled a contraption at him.
The ropes gripped around his body and his sword dropped before he
hit the floor.

“Be careful!” Modo yelled to
the second man, but it was too late. The sailor found himself
entrapped in five ropes, all seizing his body at once. His sword
bounced off the floor and he soon followed suit.

With bound feet, Modo kicked at
one of the discarded swords, trying to push it toward one of the
fallen deckhands. Lily moved and plucked both swords from the
floor.

“If any of you can reach the
bottom disks behind your back,” Modo shouted, “turn them now and
you shall be free!”

Lily no longer had any
contraptions. She turned to search about the room.
There must be
something else.

Various weapons still lay on
the table but Lily had no idea how to use them. She turned toward
one of the dark wood walls. A rope hung on a nail. She reached for
it.

“I’m the captain of this ship
now,” she announced, rushing toward the two deckhands with the
rope. “Open your mouth, and it’s the plank!”

She kicked one of the men,
rolling him toward the other. She would tie everyone together,
using knots her father taught her. She moved without pause, and
before one of her prisoners managed to set themselves free.

* * *

Through his telescope, Captain
Strick viewed the modest, black ship. There was no one on deck. The
ship had ceased all assault.
Perhaps they’ve depleted their
ammunition
, Strick thought.
Or perhaps they’re just playing
a game.

As the crew around him worked
to put the flames out and keep the Glide from sinking, Strick kept
his telescope up, feeling anxious. He wished he could determine
with certainty just what the black ship’s plan for them was. This
dark vessel held his and his entire crew’s fate in her hands.

He saw something; something
different. Something strange. A flag was being raised on the black
ship’s main mast.

“What shall we do,
Captain?”

“One moment, Kenworth.” Strick
was engrossed by what was taking place on the enemy ship. He tried
to make out the flag, but all that he could see, from this
distance, was that it was flapping in the wind, and that it
appeared to be white. He then saw three letter m’s, hand drawn onto
it.

“Lily…” he whispered.

“I beg your pardon, Captain,”
Kenworth asked.

Has she been abducted?
Strick thought to himself.
What does this mean? Perhaps…
No…

The black ship’s main sail,
black as well, was raised.

Strick smiled.

It just cannot be
…

* * *

Lily stood in the cockpit of
Modo’s ship, steering the ship’s wheel with one hand while holding
Modo’s telescope to her eye with the other. She was flabbergasted
as she saw that the ship Modo and Mister Wazee had been firing upon
was the HMS Glide, Captain Strick’s ship. She was relieved the ship
was still afloat as she put the telescope down and sailed toward
the sunken ship survivors who waded and floated in the distance.
She hoped Captain Strick had seen her flag and understood that she
had overtaken the trigger-happy craft. She did not want to be
attacked by her friend.

She soon noticed that the Glide
had stopped sailing away and was now moving toward the survivors as
well. She also realized that no cannons were being shot.

* * *

Through his telescope, Captain
Strick saw what he was looking for.

Lily.

She was alone, helming the
boat. She had done what he had imagined. He could not figure how.
He smiled again, and hoped her prisoners were locked away under
deck.

“Is it so?” Kenworth asked.

Captain Strick brought his
telescope down, smiling at his first lieutenant. “It is so,” he
confirmed.

Lily could see Captain Strick
and Kenworth standing at the bow of the HMS Glide.

“How’s the damage?” she called
out, approaching the much taller ship.

“We remain above water,” Strick
replied, still smiling. “No small thanks to you, I assume. Where
are your prisoners?”

“Below deck.”

“How did this come to be?” the
Captain asked. “You were supposed to be home by now.”

“And you, fish food. Aren’t you
glad I showed?”

* * *

Francis sat in the cockpit of
Bodin’s ship, listening as the men around him talked.

“A war awaits us,” Captain
Leonard said. “How will we remain covert?”

“If it weren’t for your
traitors,” Bodin answered, “we certainly would not be in this
position. Fortunately for us, the King’s Armada shall not be
anticipated.”

Francis could not help but keep
staring up at Bodin’s bleak face. How could this monster and Sir
Robert of Dreighton be the same man? Had the young assassin who was
sent after the legendary adventurer failed? Was Bodin really the
long lost hero? Dreighton was known to have performed many acts of
grand, heroic stature. Had those acts all been fabricated by a
writer? The brute fiend standing before Francis was ugly, greedy,
ruthless. He cared for no one. He was a cold-blooded, remorseless
murderer.

Francis felt a sharp pang of
sadness just then – as if he had just learned that someone dear to
him had died.

Bodin sat down on the bench,
beside Francis. “The Armada will be the distraction,” he told
Leonard and the rest of the crew.

The men continued discussing
the Armada and what would happen once they arrived on an island
they called Corralo. Bodin fell silent and listened. Francis looked
up at his profile.

“What happened to you?” he
asked, keeping the volume of his voice low.

Bodin did not move as the men
continued talking.

He didn’t hear me
,
Francis thought. “I know who you are,” he stated.

Bodin turned his head. “Who?”
he asked, his small see-through eyes targeting Francis’ own. “Who
am I?”

“Robert.”

Bodin continued to stare down
at him, albeit with a blank look.

“Your name is Robert,” Francis
continued. “Not Bodin.”

Bodin’s blank stare narrowed,
transforming into one of suspicion.

“You are Sir Robert of
Dreighton.”

“Dreighton was killed,” Bodin
replied, “a long time ago.”

“Well then,” Francis argued,
“you’re using his nickname. The name his son called him.”

Bodin’s face reddened. Francis
had never seen that look on Bodin before. Was it surprise? Fear?
Francis did not know. The look was gone.

“Enough,” Bodin dismissed,
under his breath. “No more nonsense from you.”

Francis stopped himself from
saying more, and watched, as Bodin stood and stepped away.

Even if
, Francis
thought,
decades ago, he was Sir Robert of Dreighton, this ogre
walking away right now is just some bloodthirsty madman everybody
calls Bodin.

* * *

Aboard Modo’s ship, Lily stood
in Mica’s stable, brushing his coat. She enjoyed this and relished
that she was finally able to do it. Earlier, she had given Captain
Strick permission to tie Modo’s ship onto the HMS Glide.

“Captain Strick told me
everybody is sailing toward the same place,” Lily told Mica. “It’s
a bunch of islands that Robert of Dreighton thought were the
highest mountaintops from Atlantis.”

“Lily,” said a voice from the
doorway.

Lily turned, and faced Captain
Strick. He smiled.

“We shall be engaged in battle
soon,” he informed her. “From the size of the armada that you
informed us the King of Spain has amassed, I can tell you that this
will be… a very violent confrontation. Lily… you must stay aboard
this ship, at all times. I am leaving you a guard. A very trusted
man of mine.”

“I’m the captain of this ship,”
Lily replied. “And you’ll need my special cannon. I know you want
to use it; that’s the only reason you let me keep the whole ship.
But I’m doing what I want from now on.”

“You can no longer be a part of
this. Lily, you’ve accomplished your mission. Successfully. You
told me that you’d see me again and you have. You’ve even saved my
life – once again. You saved my entire crew. And the survivors of
the HMS Clear. You’ve done what you set out to do. Let us, the
Royal Navy, mind the war which lies ahead.”

A dumbfounded look covered
Lily’s face. “My mission? I don’t have a mission. I made a promise…
and that hasn’t changed since the day I met you. I made a promise
to help a friend… to help him find his brother. And I’m not
done.”

* * *

Francis sat alone on the port
side deck. A fear had set in. What if Bodin wondered how Francis
had uncovered his true identity? What if he had begun to suspect
that Francis had been through his books? Bodin had not spoken to
him since this morning, when Francis had accused him of being
Robert of Dreighton. It was now just past noon. Francis began to
get nervous that perhaps Bodin was planning a severe punishment. He
rocked back and forth, pondering this latest dilemma.

The men at the bow, all at
once, burst into loud talk.

Then everyone was silent.

Francis stood.
What’s
happening?
he thought, staring in their direction.

Beyond the men at the bow,
islands came into view: three small islands surrounding a much
larger, mountainous one. All four were grey, rocky, with little
greenery.

Francis looked down at the
water. Something caught his eye, and then disappeared from focus as
the ship raced on. Francis thought he had just seen the top of a
golden, shimmering statue’s head, deep in the sea.

“No one has ever known for
certain,” said a voice on Francis’ right, “that what remains before
you was once Atlantis.”

Without looking up, Francis
knew that this was Bodin.

“We never really knew what we
found here.”

“You’ve been searching for
something here your entire life,” Francis said.

“And nothing is what I found,
every time,” Bodin replied. “Your brother believed he was a hero
getting involved with that group of people. They all thought they
were being heroes.”

“What do you mean?”

“They all ended up dead; every
one of them, but your brother. And all he managed to do was end up
a prisoner.”

“I don’t know what Michael was
doing but I’m sure it wasn’t trying to be a hero.”

“And it begins,” Bodin said,
turning away. Francis turned as well, and stopped breathing.

In the distance, on the
horizon, hundreds of ships advanced.

“Who are they?” Francis asked.
“The Royal Navy?”

“They’ve come for the
Treasure,” Bodin responded.

Francis looked up at him. He
wanted to see his reaction as he asked, “Do you mean the
‘Acadae’?”

Bodin smiled. “You’ve been
snooping. We’ll soon fix that.”

Bodin moved back toward the
cockpit.

“They’ll stop you,” Francis
proclaimed after him.

Bodin stopped.

“They’ll put an end to you,”
Francis added.

“Turn around, my dear boy,”
Bodin said, as he, himself, turned to face Francis.

Francis hesitated, and then
turned to look in the starboard direction.

On the horizon was the Spanish
Armada, and it appeared to have gathered even more ships.

“This time,” Bodin began, “the
British shall be levelled.”

“Bodin,” called someone from
the stern.

Bodin turned, and stepped
toward the call.

Francis surveyed the two small
islands they were now sailing between. He then turned toward the
larger one. Rocky mountains and hills shaped this mass of land. A
figure ran toward the shore. A man. He wore a dark green
uniform.

Bodin’s ship veered toward the
port side, toward a high cliff wall. Soon a tall tunnel opening
loomed before them. As they moved inside, all three masts from the
ship were lowered until they were almost horizontal. Everything
went dark. The sound of water dripping echoed off the walls. Four
lit torches appeared in the distance. Then two men. They stood side
by side on a flat slab of stone which jutted out from the tunnel’s
rock wall. Both wore the dark green uniform and waited under the
four lit torches which hung on the wall behind them. Off to the
men’s left was a cave opening, high enough for a man to walk
through. Francis was in awe. This was some sort of miniature,
underground port.

Bodin’s voice echoed as he
exclaimed, “He should not have left his post!”

The ship was steered alongside
the rock slab. Ropes were thrown from the vessel to the two men
waiting who tied them to cleats which were screwed into the
slab.

“Our goal here remains the
same,” Bodin announced to his crew. “Move out with the Treasure.
Let the others battle. Their war will allow us to move our cargo
unnoticed. We remain invisible our entire stay.