Peter and the Starcatchers (6 page)

“Your first officer, sir,” said Slank.

Pembridge blinked again.

“My head hurts,” he said.

“Perhaps the captain would like to go to his cabin,” said Slank.

“You don’t tel me what to do,” said Pembridge. “I’m the captain.”

“Yes, sir,” said Slank.

“I’m going to my cabin,” said Pembridge.

“Yes, sir.”

The round man took a step, then stopped, frowning, his round body teetering.

“Which way is my cabin?” he said.

“That way, Captain Pembridge,” said Slank, pointing aft.

Pembridge teetered off. Behind him, the crewmen burst into laughter, only to be silenced by a scowl from Slank.

“That’s enough,” he shouted. “Back to work.”

From behind a mast, Peter watched Pembridge stagger aft. Now seemed as good a time as any to try to talk to him. Peter stepped out from behind the mast and …

“YOU! RUNT!” bel owed Slank. The man saw
everything.
“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?”

“Nowhere, sir,” said Peter.

“That’s right,” said Slank, striding toward Peter. “You’re going nowhere. You’re to stay below, and you’re to come out when I say you can. We got work to do on this ship, and we don’t need you in the way. You fol ow me, runt?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you swim, runt?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Wel , you’l find out quick enough if I see you on deck again without my permission.”

“Yes, sir,” said Peter. Feeling Slank’s glare on his back, he turned and went back down the ladderway, back to the cramped and smel y little cabin. As he entered, the other boys al looked at him hopeful y.

“What did the captain say?” said Tubby Ted. “Can we have some real food?”

“Yes, Peter,” said James. “What did the captain say?”

“I … wel ,” said Peter, “… I didn’t talk to him just yet.” The boys’ faces fel . James looked down, and sniffed. “But I wil !” said Peter. “I’l talk to him. Just not right now. But don’t you worry,” he said, putting his hand on James’s shoulder. “We’l be fine. I have a plan.”

“You do?” said James, looking up. “Real y?”

“Of course I do,” said Peter, patting his shoulder.

“Oh, good,” said James. “Because I’m hungry.”

“I’m starving,” said Tubby Ted.

“We’l have real food soon enough,” said Peter. “I promise.” And as he saw the hope return to the eyes of the other boys, Peter thought:
I need a plan.

S
HE’S GETTING AWAY!” Black Stache belowed. “Hurry up with Preston and Harbuckle! And ready those barrels!”

“Aye, Cap’n!” came a shout from below.

Through his glass, Black Stache saw the
Wasp’
s gleaming black hul race for the horizon, cutting a foaming white wake in the deep blue-green of the ocean. Black Stache had never seen a ship sail like that. He knew now that he no longer wanted only the
Wasp’
s treasure; he wanted the
Wasp
herself. He’d strip her flag and fly his own on her mast.

“What flag should we be flying, Cap’n?” First Mate Smee leaned his bulging bel y over the open chest of flags captured from ships the
Sea Devil
had scuttled.

“Let’s make it something colorful,” said Black Stache. “The Union Jack would do just fine, eh? She’d like that wouldn’t she? Kissing cousins?” Black Stache liked the British flag—he had a dozen or more in his col ection—and felt especial y proud when he sank a ship belonging to the Queen. Black Stache had no love for the Queen, no love for women of any sort, except for his ma. He had a real soft spot for his ma, and was truly sorry for the time he’d marooned her.

“What’s the delay down there?” Black Stache thundered. On the main deck, several men were tying a fat crewman’s ankles to his wrists behind his back, so he looked like a rocking horse. A gag covered the man’s mouth, or he would have been heard screaming for his life.

The Union Jack was run up the
Sea Devil’
s mainmast and snapped loudly in the wind. Black Stache held the glass to his eye again, watching the retreating
Wasp,
getting farther away each minute.

“How do you plan to take her,” said Smee, grinning. “Fire?”

One of Black Stache’s many tricks was to sail close to another ship at night and, using a smoking barrel of tar, make it appear the
Sea Devil
had caught fire. His prey would turn and come to help, only to be rewarded for this act of mercy by being attacked. But Black Stache knew that even if he could get the
Sea Devil
close, the
Wasp’
s captain, Scott, was too experienced to fal for that ploy.

“We’l have to think of something better than that,” Black Stache said.

“The broken mast trick?” Smee slapped his leg. “I love that broken mast trick, Cap’n.”

Black Stache snorted. “She’s carrying the richest treasure ever taken to sea,” he said. “She won’t fal for the broken mast.” Below, the crew had finished hog-tying the first man and had started on a second, also a portly fel ow. He looked just as terrified, his cries muffled by a gag. Black Stache smiled. He loved other people’s misery.

“Cap’n,” said Smee, very timidly, “why’re they tying up Preston and Harbuckle?” Preston and Harbuckle were both very good sailors, and Black Stache seemed to be preparing to toss them overboard for no good reason.

Black Stache spat a gob onto Smee’s bare foot.

“Smee,” he said, “I’ve decided we’re going to take the
Wasp
the old-fashioned way.”

“Sir?”

“I mean without cheating,” said Black Stache.

“Without
cheating,
sir?” Smee said, shocked. Black Stache
always
cheated.

“Not this time,” said Black Stache. “Captain Scott won’t stop the
Wasp
for no trickery. We got to pure run her down, Smee.”

“But how, Cap’n?” said Smee. “Are we going to use the Ladies?”

Black Stache shot Smee a look of contempt, which sent a chil down Smee’s spine.

“You idjit,” the captain sneered. “We can’t use the Ladies on this heading. We’ve got to get abeam of the
Wasp,
then turn downwind.
Then
we raise the Ladies and run her down.”

“But, Cap’n,” Smee said timidly, “how do we get abeam of her? She’s fast as the wind, and pul ing away.”

“Yes,” said Black Stache. “We need more speed, and that means we need to get rid of some weight. So I’ve ordered the crew to throw most of our water overboard.” He pointed toward the stern. Smee turned, and saw crewmen rol ing heavy wooden barrels toward the rail, and heaving them over the side.

Smee gasped. Even for Black Stache, this was insane. At sea, there was nothing more precious than water.
Nothing.
Not even rum. Nobody
ever
threw water away.

“Cap’n,” Smee sputtered, “sir, we can’t, I mean …”

“Smee,” said Black Stache, savoring his own malignant bril iance. “Water is heavy, right?”

“Yes, Cap’n, but …”

“And we’l run faster without the weight, right?”

“Yes, Cap’n, but…”

“And if we run faster, we’l have a better chance of catching the
Wasp
, right?”

“I s’pose so, Cap’n, but…”

“And when we catch the
Wasp
, we’l have the
Wasp
’s water, won’t we now?”

Smee fel silent now, final y grasping the lunatic plan.

“Don’t you see?” said Black Stache. “It’s a carrot for the men. They know we’re carrying just enough water for a few days. So they know we
have
to catch the
Wasp
in that time, or they die of thirst. Isn’t it a
fine
plan, Mr. Smee?”

Insane,
thought Smee. But what he said was “Aye, Cap’n. Bril iant.”

“Of course it’s bril iant,” said Black Stache. “And to make it even more bril iant, I’m going to give the crew another carrot.”

“Another one, Cap’n?” Smee did not like the sound of that at al .

“Yes,” said Black Stache, admiring his own genius. “Smee, aside from water, cannon, and cargo, what’re the two heaviest things on the
Sea Devil
?” Smee thought for a moment, then said, “That would be Preston and Harb—”

He looked down at the deck, where the two fat pirates had been hefted into the dory, which was now being lowered alongside the ship.

“You see, Smee?” said Black Stache. “This’l teach the men that they got to work hard. They must be worth their weight to me, Smee, or it’s over the side.” Smee looked down at his own bel y. It was not a smal bel y. Black Stache caught the look and smiled broadly, showing his brown tooth stumps. He continued to smile as the dory, with its squirming and terrified passengers, was cut loose, and quickly fel behind the
Sea Devil,
growing smal er by the minute, until it was gone. Along with most of the
Sea Devil’
s water.

“Good riddance,” Black Stache growled, and he spat again, a major gob, this time hitting Smee’s other foot. He turned to face the crew, now watching him warily.

“The deadweight is gone, men,” he said. “We’re picking up speed.” He gestured toward the dot on the horizon that was the
Wasp.
“She’s a fast ship, but we’re going to be faster. We’d better be, because your water rations are gone in three days’time. So work hard, men. Work hard, if you don’t want to join those two bales of lard drifting astern.” Black Stache glared at the crew, daring anyone to chal enge him. His glare was met by a fearful silence.

“Good,” said Black Stache. “Now, let’s get more sail up.”

The pirates scurried into action as if their lives depended on it, which they did. Black Stache turned to Smee.

“I’l be in my cabin,” he said. “When I come back, I want that ship”—he pointed to the distant
Wasp
—“to be closer. If it’s not, we’l have to toss some more weight over the side.” He looked pointedly at Smee’s bel y, then turned and stalked off.

Smee pushed the men hard al afternoon, and ate no dinner that night.

B
Y THE THIRD DAY the boys were so hungry that when Hungry Bob brought their daily slop, they actualy ate some of it. They picked carefuly through the lumps, stil (to Hungry Bob’s delight) passing on the wriggling ones, and choking down others as best they could. But it wasn’t enough food, not nearly enough. Hunger now clawed constantly at their bel ies.

Peter, stil wondering if it was such a good thing to be the leader, was feeling intense pressure to do something. He had given up on pleading the boys’ case to Captain Pembridge. Several times now, the boys had heard the captain staggering around on the main deck, shouting senseless commands (“HEAVE TO ON THE STIZZENS! FURL THE

YARDARM!”) to the vast enjoyment of the crew. Pembridge sounded even more confused than he’d been the first day; the sailors mocked him openly now.

No, Pembridge would be no help. And Peter didn’t dare approach Slank; to ask
him
for better food would be to ask for a lashing. And so, as the third day turned into the third night, and the boys prepared for another restless, hungry night in their dank little cabin, listening to James whimpering—and rats scuttling—Peter made up his mind: he would steal some food.

There had to be decent food on the ship. Slank surely wasn’t eating the swil that the boys got, and he just as surely wasn’t feeding it to the first-class passengers, like that girl Mol y and her governess. No, they were eating decent food, and Peter meant to have some of it.

He figured it was stored in the aft part of the ship, where the important people slept, and the valuable items were stored. He’d done some poking around, and determined that there was no way he could go aft belowdecks without passing through the crew’s quarters, where he would surely be seen. His plan, then, was to wait for dark, then sneak aft on the main deck.

He waited until an hour past sunset, then careful y detached himself from the clump of dozing boys huddled together on the floor for warmth, and protection from the rats. Tubby Ted continued to snore, but James sat up, rubbing his eyes, and said, “Peter, where are you going?”

“Quiet,” Peter hissed. “I’m going to look for food.”

“I’l go with you,” said another voice. Prentiss.