Across The Sea (5 page)

“What are you doin’ here?” he
grunted.

“We need your help,” Lily
replied.

The man went to back to gutting
his fish. “I’m not offerin’,” he muttered.

“My friend here is Francis,”
Lily persisted.

The short man continued his
work, ignoring her.

“Well,” Lily continued,
catching her breath. “Francis was aboard the Red Mist.”

The short man stopped. He
looked up at Francis. Then Lily.

“What’s the game today?” he
asked. “Robert of Dreighton? Admiral Rogalles?”

“It’s the truth, sir,” Francis
said.

The short man eyed him, trying
to size him. “The Red Mist hasn’t been in these parts for years,”
he stated. “No one seen her since ‘cept for that busybody Noodles a
fortnight ago. And he claims to have been witness to her with
fifteen empty pints strewn in his wake.”

“She’s here, Finley,” Lily
said. “I saw her myself. I swear.”

Finley turned to Francis. “How
d’you get aboard the Red Mist?” he asked.

Francis began to relay his
tale. Finley’s ears pricked up when he heard of Francis’ account of
the long-haired giant holed up inside the lighthouse.

“Small, grey eyes, almost
white?” Finley was confirming. “Red rims around ’em?”

“Yes,” Francis confirmed.

“That man’s name is Bodin. He
was sailin’ the seas long before Lily’s father and I ever took to
the water. That man is a hired assassin. He’ll do anythin’ if you
fancy his price. He’s got no code of honour, whatsoever. The
pirates at least have a code. Bodin’s got squat. The Royal Navy’s
been tryin’ to bag that vulture for decades. Whatever the Red
Mist’s reasons are for bein’ here, this man’s are far worse.”
Finley focused on Lily. “Do not approach this murderer, Lily. This
boy should go to the authorities. And you, Lily, you should step
back home.”

Francis caught a flash of navy
blue in his peripheral vision. He turned to focus on it, and
spotted a Royal Navy sailor in full uniform, staring straight at
him as he walked through the market crowd. Francis then beheld a
handful of them, all behind the first, and all moving toward Lily
and him. Francis turned to move away; the village council had most
likely informed them that he was a pirate. Lily was at his side,
having already seen them as well.

“Hello children,” a voice
greeted with a refined English accent. Francis and Lily glanced up.
A tall man in a Royal Navy uniform stood in their way. Behind him,
a half-dozen Royal Navy sailors finished gathering.

The tall man smiled. His face
was clean, untroubled, and his dark, short hair faultlessly combed
under his Royal Navy hat. “I am Captain Addison Strick,” he said.
His youthful eyes found Francis’ own. “Where are you off to?” he
asked.

“They were just walkin’ back
home, Capt’n,” Finley answered.

Captain Strick smiled. “The
girl can go. However, you, Francis, must come with us.”

“How do you know my name?”
Francis asked.

“There is a lot that I know,”
Strick replied with another smile. “We have been searching for you
for quite some time now.”

“My parents…” Francis began to
ask. “Did my parents send you here to find me?”

“Yes, yes,” Captain Strick
replied. Lily stared the Captain up and down. Something about the
tone of the Captain’s voice just did not feel right to her. He had
also answered Francis much too quickly. “Your parents have been
wracked with worry ever since your disappearance,” the Captain
continued. “Making themselves sick, I dare say. Please, come. We
have a horse and carriage waiting.”

Captain Strick placed a hand on
Francis’ shoulder and lead him away. Lily stared up at the sailors.
They all had tidy, short hair, clean-shaven faces and moved in a
certain polished manner. They were most definitely Royal British
sailors and not scruffy, heartless pirates in disguise. Francis
turned back for a fleeting look. Lily smiled. She had really liked
her new friend.

“Thank you,” Francis said,
giving her a half grin weighted down with exhaustion.

“You’ll find out what happened
to your brother,” Lily assured him. “And I’ll find out why the Red
Mist is here. If we cross paths again, I’ll help you, Francis. You
can depend on me.”

Lily watched as Francis
disappeared into the crowd with the tall, young captain and his
crew of sailors.

“You’re to stay here a few
minutes,” Finley ordered her. “I don’t want you followin’ ’em.”

* * *

At the edge of the Pond Vale
Isle market, Francis and Captain Strick boarded a sizable carriage
guarded by a pair of uniformed sailors. All the sailors climbed
atop the vehicle, taking up their positions.

The two horses pulled off.

Inside, Captain Strick was
seated alone beside Francis. “Many people have been looking for
you,” he informed him.

“Is my father angry?” Francis
asked.

“Not to worry, not to worry,”
Captain Strick replied. “He shall be thrilled that no harm came to
you.”

Francis looked out the open
window beside him. The carriage was now moving along a path which
looked down at the sea from a great height.

“How did my father get the
Royal Navy to look for me?” Francis asked.

“Well, you are a very special
boy, Francis. And…” Captain Strick hesitated, as if pondering what
next to say. Francis was now certain he was hiding something.

A patch of red flew past
outside the open window next to Francis. Francis turned. Through
the window, he could see one side of the path ahead. A biting frost
rooted throughout his body as he caught sight of a group of men in
blinding red cloaks, all rushing at the carriage with swords drawn.
The carriage halted, its two horses up on hind legs, squealing.

“What in the name of…” the
Captain began to say.

The door beside him was
wrenched open. “Get out!” a red cloaked pirate ordered. “With hands
on top of head!”

Captain Strick did as he was
told, as the pirate seized the hilt of the Captain’s sword,
unsheathing the blade.

Francis’ door was opened next.
A pirate yanked him out, making him land onto his feet outside, the
pirate still clutching his shirt. Francis skimmed his surroundings.
The bulky pirates were ordering all the British sailors off the
carriage as they confiscated their swords.

“What pray tell is taking
place!” Captain Strick shouted, offended.

A hulking man, also wearing a
red cloak, stepped onto the path in front of them. Francis looked
up.

The man from the lighthouse.
The man Finley called Bodin.

Francis now had the best
opportunity since yesterday afternoon to get a good look at this
villain as he stepped closer. His greying hair fell to his
shoulders. His unusually wide face was miraculously in proportion
with his broad frame. And his eyes… his small, grey, red-rimmed
eyes were a mile apart. He looked down at Francis and gave him a
shock-inducing smile. All the teeth at the front of his mouth had
sharp pointy ends, like thick, sharpened spears.

“Pray all you like, Captain,”
the man said, turning to Captain Strick. “And we may let you
live.”

“The infamous Bodin,” Strick
hissed, taking a step forward, and endeavouring to appear his most
defiant self.

“You took something that
belongs to me,” Bodin said to the Captain. “I’m afraid I must have
it back.” Bodin moved unhurried toward Francis, dropping both
weighty hands onto the boy’s meagre shoulders. Francis, trying his
hardest not to show how he had begun to shake, looked up into his
grey eyes. He had not known before just how terrifying this Bodin
truly was.

“We finally meet, face to
face,” the beast greeted.

Francis swallowed. It felt like
his heart was trying to beat out of his throat.

“Whatever this monster is to
you,” Captain Strick shouted out to the pirates, “he will betray
you. All of you. You’ll most likely end up with your back halfway
down his sword.”

All the pirates smirked. One
even laughed.

“It looks rather like your
back,” Bodin shot back, “who shall meet a piercing new friend.”

Now all the pirates
laughed.

Captain Strick looked over in
Bodin’s direction. “This is leagues from being over,” he said.

Bodin smiled. “Well, it looks
about over to me.”

The pirates laughed more.

“You’ll not be able to carry on
as you like forever,” Strick warned Bodin. “One day, someone will
put a stop to you, and I will be there, laughing myself.”

Bodin’s stare transformed from
one of amusement… to deadly – in an invisible second. Captain
Strick’s face turned apple red.

“And you truly believe,” Bodin
asked, stepping toward Strick, “that on that day, you’ll still be
alive?”

Captain Strick wanted to look
away from Bodin’s intense gaze, Francis could tell, but Strick, as
scared as he was, was too proud. He held Bodin’s stare.

“Answer me!” Bodin yelled.
Francis trembled. He did not want to dwell on what he knew was
coming. It was too dreadful. He did not want to see this Bodin kill
Captain Strick. The Captain remained silent. That quiet spell,
however, was broken much too soon.

“Answer me!” Bodin shouted,
closing in on Strick, whose eyes and mouth strained to not denote
any emotion. “Do you truly believe that you will live today?” Bodin
kept on. “Are you that dashing and daring a captain to threaten me
to my face? Answer me!”

Strick shuddered, as Bodin
brought his face down close to the Captain’s own; and still Strick
held his steady gaze. Bodin smiled. “You get to live today,” he
revealed, in a renewed, calm voice, “to pass on a message to your
dear father.”

Strick remained still, which
Francis knew required immense effort.

“Whatever they think they
know,” Bodin continued, “they only know half.”

Strick just held the gaze,
saying nothing. Bodin turned away, and proceeded across the path,
toward the sea. The pirates followed, one of them gripping the back
of Francis’ shirt and pulling him along. They all descended the
steep hill toward the water.

* * *

On the shore below, Francis was
shoved aboard a rowboat. Bodin moved to the middle, one mammoth
hand clamping down on Francis’ stick-like arm and making him sit
beside him on the middle bench, with their backs to the bow. The
boat was pushed and soon everyone but Bodin and Francis was rowing
out to sea.

Francis had never, in his life,
been so filled with fear. But he still needed to do something. He
summoned all the courage he could find in his heart, and asked, “Is
my brother still alive?”

Bodin’s grey eyes locked on
Francis’ stare. He then turned his gaze back on the water.

“Your brother,” Bodin said, as
if contemplating the very words. “Your brother is the reason why I
trapped you.”

“On your boat last night? You
knew I was there?”

“I made sure you’d be there,”
Bodin answered. “I made sure you followed me, after having followed
you and your family all evening.”

“And in the lighthouse?”

“I overheard you and your
friend earlier in the afternoon, planning to scare that boy. I just
anticipated that you’d already heard of the Brotherhood of Blood
and of our red cloaks.”

“Why? Why would you trap
me?”

Bodin looked back down at
Francis. “Everyone is after you, Francis. Everyone needs you as
collateral… to draw your brother out.”

“He’s alive?” Francis was
staggered. Tears formed in his eyes. “Michael is alive?”

“Your brother is very much
alive and way too much trouble.”

“Why are you trying to draw him
out? Out of what? Where is he?”

“There’s much your father never
told you. Your brother was never taken, Francis. He left of his own
accord.”

“You’re lying.”

“Your brother belongs to a
group of marauders seeking to compete against the Brotherhood of
Blood. The Brotherhood will not stand for him. And now, I gather,
neither will the Royal Navy. One way or another, someone will wipe
your brother off the sea. And now we have the upper hand. We have
you.”

“My brother is good,” Francis
said. “He would never join a group like that.”

This statement made Bodin
laugh. Behind him, the Red Mist sailed into view. At the bow of the
ship stood a pirate wearing a red cloak, a wide-brimmed hat and
long, rusty hair tied in a tail at the back.
The captain
,
Francis thought.

Behind this captain stood his
crew, also all donning red cloaks and all staring down at Francis
with happy, hungry eyes.

“Welcome to the game,” Bodin
said, with a full-tooth smile, “and all its colourful players.”

* * *

Back on shore, villagers rushed
to the docks. Some gasped as they beheld the notorious pirate ship
with her crimson sails as she swept past in the distance.

Lily ran along the rocky
shoreline. She had just heard from a villager that a boy was seen
being taken away in a rowboat filled with red cloaked men. She
reached her boat and dragged it into the water. She jumped in,
pulling her sail up, and sat down as her boat launched off.

Once back around the rocky
shoreline, Lily could still see the Red Mist, but it was too far,
becoming small on the horizon. Lily relaxed her shoulders,
defeated. The Red Mist was out of reach. And with her, Francis.

With Pond Vale Isle disappearing
behind them, Bodin stepped toward Captain Leonard on deck. Francis’
arms were held by two pirates who flanked him. The pirates had
removed their red cloaks and were now all back to knee breeches,
shirts and vests.

Francis looked up at the
captain and saw the scar running from his forehead all the way down
to his right cheek.

“You have traitors aboard,”
Bodin said.