Peter and the Starcatchers (39 page)

“Peter, don’t do it!” It was Alf yel ing now. “Once he’s got the trunk on the ship, he won’t have no reason to let her go!”

“That’s right, Peter!” shouted James, sitting up. “Don’t do it!”

“Shut them two up!” barked Slank. Little Richard shoved the two protesters back to the sand with his huge right boot. Slank shouted to Peter: “What do you say, boy? Do we have ourselves a bargain?”

“How do I know you’l let her go?” said Peter.

“Because I’m giving you my word,” said Slank. “And if you don’t agree to my bargain, I give you my word I’l start cutting throats here, and you’l see that my word is good. So what do you say?”

Now the silence was total; even the sounds of surf and water went momentarily quiet, as if the lagoon itself awaited Peter’s answer.

“Al right, then,” said Peter. “I accept your bargain.”

Mol y tried to shout something, but Slank, anticipating her reaction, kept his hand clamped hard on her mouth.

“There’s a good boy,” he said. “You just saved your friends’ lives. Now, here’s what you do. You have two of those devil-fish swim that trunk to shore and shove it ashore right by that dory there. Just two, no more. Then I want them to swim back with their heads high, where I can see them. I want to see
all
of them creatures’ heads when we row out of here, and I want you to stay on that rock ’til we’re gone. You understand al that, boy?”

“Yes,” said Peter.

“That’s good,” said Slank, “because I’l have my knife to this young lady’s neck, and there’s no human nor fish can move fast enough to keep me from cutting her. You understand, boy?”

“I understand.”

“Good,” said Slank. “Now, send them devil-fish over with the trunk.”

Peter crouched on the rock, exchanging a look with Teacher, who turned to the other mermaids and emitted a long and complex series of guttural sounds. Two of the mermaids, both auburn-haired, swam to the rock. Peter slid the trunk into the water, where it bobbed, corklike, on the surface. The auburn-haired mermaids got behind it, and began propel ing it swiftly toward the beached dory.

“That’s a fine lad,” said Slank, watching the trunk’s approach. “A fine lad, indeed.”

Peter didn’t answer. He stood statue-stil on the rock, his eyes trained on Mol y. She, too, seemed to be looking at him, but, even given the bright moonlight, was too far away for him to see her face clearly. It was probably just as wel , because the look in her eyes, as the trunk came closer and closer to shore, was one of cold fury.

But Slank saw the girl’s look, and understood it. It gave him great pleasure.

“The boy likes you very much,” he whispered harshly to Mol y, keeping his hand firmly clamped over her mouth. “But he’s not very savvy, is he?” Then he laughed as Mol y struggled, uselessly, to reply.

“
P
ADDLE, YOU DOGS!” SHOUTED STACHE. “Paddle and kick! We’re making headway!”

The exhausted pirates groaned, but complied, for they could see that Stache was right: the capsized longboat, with agonizing slowness, was curving toward the far leftmost of the two points of land that framed the lagoon. As veteran seamen, they al understood the urgency of the situation: if they could not push the longboat over to the point in time, the current would sweep them past it, and out to sea.

So paddle and kick they did, at Stache’s urging. So desperate was the situation that even Stache, tucking his sword into his belt, paddled and kicked—it was unheard of: the great pirate himself, reduced to this.

They were nearly even with the end of the point now; it loomed in the moonlight fifty yards away. Too far. None of them could swim that distance; most of them—typical y, for pirates—could not swim at al .

“Cap’n,” cried Smee. “We ain’t gonna make it.”

“PADDLE AND KICK!” roared Stache in response, but he, too, saw that it was hopeless; they were clearly past the point now. He considered his options: if he could right the capsized longboat, and bail it, he might have a chance to survive. But there were ten men clinging to the overturned hul . Too many to get the boat floating again. He’d have to get rid of some.

“You men on this side!” he shouted. “Let go!”

The pirates closest to Stache—there were five of them—stared back at him, too stunned to answer.

“I said
let go
!” shouted Stache, awkwardly drawing his sword.

“But, Cap’n,” protested the man next to him. “If we…”

“LET GO!” roared Stache, making his point by clubbing the man’s hand with the hilt of his sword; the pirate screamed in pain and released the boat, sliding back into the water.

“Now, you!” shouted Stache, starting to bring the sword down on the next man—this time, blade-first. The second pirate leaped backward, fol owed quickly by the other three.

Ignoring the men he’d just sentenced to drown, Stache turned to the remaining pirates, who watched him fearful y.

“Now,” he said. “We’re going to turn this boat over and bail. You men move to…”

“Cap’n!” interrupted Smee.

“WHAT IS IT?” bel owed Stache, very close to running Smee through with his sword just to shut him up.

“The men you knocked off?” said Smee.

“What about them?” said Stache.

“They ain’t sinking, Cap’n,” said Smee.

Stache whirled around and saw it was true: behind him, five heads, and five sets of shoulders, poked up from the surface of the lagoon, steady as rocks.

The discarded crewmen were standing, chest deep. A sandbar extended off the point of land.

The pirates could walk to shore.

S
LANK CAREFULLY WATCHED the two auburn-haired mermaids swim back toward the rock where Peter stood. When they were nearly there, he addressed Little Richard.

“Turn the dory over and put the trunk in it,” he said.

“What about
them?
” asked Little Richard, gesturing toward Alf and the boys, who were facedown on the sand.

“They won’t be no trouble,” said Slank. “Unless they want the little lady here to get her neck shortened.” He kept a firm grip on Mol y as Little Richard waded out to the dory. The big man turned it over easily, and Slank was gratified to see that, other than the half-moon-shaped piece bitten from the transom by the mermaid, the little boat appeared undamaged. It would certainly get them to the ship. If necessary, he could try using the starstuff, but that could prove dicey: trying to fly the boat, and the trunk, and Little Richard, and the girl. Especial y the girl: she concerned him most of al . A Starcatcher by blood, she might be real trouble once near the starstuff.

Secretly, Slank had no intention—none at al —of letting Mol y go. The boy was a fool to believe otherwise. Instead, Slank could see himself returning to Rundoon as a hero: he would be bringing with him not only the largest harvest of starstuff in human memory, but also a member of a legendary Starcatcher family, the daughter of the great Leonard Aster. King Zarboff would be
very
pleased. The King
loved
pretty girls—he was sure to reward Slank heavily.

Little Richard loaded the trunk into the stern of the upright dory.

“Al set, sir,” he said.

Slank dragged Mol y through the water and lifted her into the bow of the dory. He crouched next to her, knife stil poised. Little Richard pushed off, then climbed into the middle seat and took up the oars.

Slank kept his attention fixed on the rock where Peter stood surrounded by the mermaids. None of them appeared to have moved.

“Remember our bargain, boy!” he shouted.

“I remember,” replied Peter.

Fool, thought Slank.

The oars dipped, pul ed, rose; dipped, pul ed, rose. Little Richard’s powerful strokes, aided by the seaward current, pul ed them rapidly away from the beach, toward the wide mouth of the lagoon. Slank kept his eyes on the rock, but stil saw no sign of movement. As it final y slipped from sight in the distance, Peter and the mermaids were stil positioned exactly as they had been.

Slank switched his attention to the water, watching for the dreaded
V
s. He saw nothing, heard nothing, except for the swirling eddies caused by Little Richard’s steady strokes.

In ten minutes’ time they reached the mouth of the lagoon, and began to round the rocky point. Slank now fixed his attention on the masts of the
Jolly Roger
and considered what he would do with the ship’s crew. They’d likely be unhappy, having been tied up al these hours. Some he would have to throw overboard. Some he would keep to sail the ship, using Little Richard—and the power the starstuff would give him—to control them.

Out of the lagoon, and into open sea, Slank checked the water’s surface again: Stil no signs of mermaids. He began, for the first time in many hours, to relax. He released his grip on Mol y’s mouth. She spat, as if disgusted by the taste of his hand.

“There now, young lady,” he said. “I’m not so bad, once you get used to me. Which you wil , on our voyage to Rundoon.” Mol y glared at him, but said nothing.

“He’s a fool, your trusting little friend back there,” taunted Slank.

“He’s a good person,” said Mol y. “He did what he thought was right. You wouldn’t understand that.” As they approached the
Jolly Roger,
which sparkled in the moonlight, Slank could see the inert forms of the hog-tied pirates slumped over the booms, just as he and Little Richard had left them.

“Almost there,” he said to Mol y. “Welcome to your new home.”

B
LACK STACHE SLOGGED TO SHORE, his sword drawn, his men in front of him, where he could see them—especialy the ones he’d thrown off the boat. They’d been muttering and grumbling among themselves, and he sensed mutiny in the air.

As they reached dry land, he decided that, given the unusual circumstances, it was time for a little motivational speech.

“Now, men,” he said. “I know some of you might be unhappy with the way things has been going.” The men stared sul enly back at him. Stache continued: “But if I hadn’t shoved you off the boat back there, you’d be lost at sea now, wouldn’t you? We’d
all
be lost! Think about it, men!”

The men frowned, thinking about it. Stache pressed on.

“So it’s thanks to me you’re standing here, isn’t it? Without your captain, you’d al be dead. Am I right, men? Wel ? Am I?” Some of the men were scratching their heads now. A good sign.

“Of
course
I’m right,” said Stache. “That’s why I’m the captain. And that’s why you men do what I say. And right now, I say we march back around to that beach, and kil them buggers what took our treasure, and get it and ourselves back to the
Jolly Roger.
Wel ? Then, let’s go, men!” And with that, he passed through the group of them and strode off in the general direction of the waterfal s. From there they could continue on around to the beach. After a few strides, he glanced back: his men, led by Smee, were fol owing. They looked none too happy, but they were coming. Stache looked forward, and smiled.

Pirates,
he thought.
It’s a good thing they’re idjits.