Peter and the Starcatchers (8 page)

The water in the dory was definitely higher now. Preston, who was not the world’s foremost thinker, was doing his best to formulate some kind of plan, when he heard Harbuckle, in the front of the dory, say something through his gag.

“Bmmmgh!” it sounded like.

Preston craned his neck to see his shipmate, who was looking back at him with a certain urgency in his eyes.

“Gmmmmph!” Harbuckle said, arching his eyebrows in a meaningful way.

Preston sensed that Harbuckle was trying to tel him something.

“Wmmmmbh?” he queried.

“Gmmmmph!” repeated Harbuckle, adding, “GMMMMPH!”

Harbuckle rol ed sideways, so his back was to Preston. He looked over his shoulder and made a violent, look-down-there nod with his head toward his bound hands, the fingers of which were wiggling.

“GMMMMMMMMMPH!” he said, sounding very impatient now.

Ah!
thought Preston.
He wants me to do something.
This seemed to Preston like a sound idea, doing something. But what? Preston made a frowny face at Harbuckle, to indicate,
What?

Looking exasperated, Harbuckle rol ed toward Preston, then rol ed away again, again nodding violently toward his hands.

“GMMMMMPPPHH!!” he said, and suddenly Preston understood.
He wants me to roll over, so he can untie my hands. What a good idea!
He nodded his head violently, to indicate that he understood. Then, with a massive heave, he rol ed his bulky body toward Harbuckle’s.

The good news was, Preston’s rol took him just the right distance; he and Harbuckle were now back to back, their hands just touching.

The bad news was, by shifting his massive weight forward to join Harbuckle’s, he had overburdened the bow of the dory, and cold seawater was now sloshing into the tiny boat.

“GMMMMMMMPPPHH!!!!” shouted Harbuckle, and Preston felt his shipmate’s hands clawing frantical y at the knots on his own. He tried to hold stil , but as the water rose, he had to squirm and struggle to keep his head above it—but the water was coming in fast, and Preston could no longer grab any gasps of air, and so he held his breath as long as he could, until his lungs screamed in agony and he grabbed at his aching chest and …

Wait a minute.
He was grabbing his chest, which meant…

His hands were free!

Desperately thrusting himself up, Preston got to his knees, tore the gag from his mouth and gulped sweet sea air. He saw that the dory was now swamped, but he was stil alive! He could barely believe it: a moment ago, he’d been at death’s door, but now here he was, stil breathing, and he owed it al to …

Harbuckle!

Preston plunged his head back underwater and found his shipmate’s body, not moving. Frantic, Preston grabbed Harbuckle by the hair and yanked his head to the surface, where—
thank goodness
—it made a faint moaning sound. Preston yanked the gag from Harbuckle’s mouth, which began to cough, and then spew seawater, and then, final y, to speak.

“You
idjit
!” it said. “You rock-headed, lobster-brained MORON!”

“I’m sorry, mate!” said Preston. “I forgot you was down there!”

“You forgot I was down there?” said Harbuckle. “I untie your hands and save your worthless life and YOU FORGOT I WAS DOWN THERE?”

“Only for a minute,” said Preston.

“Untie my hands,” said Harbuckle, “so I can wring your neck.”

Harbuckle calmed down as Preston untied him, and both men began to understand that, although they had escaped immediate death, their long-term prospects were not good.

They tried using their hands to bail out the dory, but it was hopeless: for every handful of water they scooped out, the waves brought more in. Eventual y they stopped trying, as exhaustion, cold, and despair settled in.

And then Preston saw it, on the horizon.

“Look,” he shouted, pointing.

Harbuckle squinted, and he saw it, too.

A mast.

Harbuckle said, “You don’t suppose … ?”

“They’re coming
back
for us?”

“That couldn’t be good,” Harbuckle said.

“No,” agreed Preston. Perilous as their situation was, it was probably better than whatever Black Stache would have in store.

“Wait a second,” said Harbuckle, squinting hard. “That ain’t the
Sea Devil.
”

Preston took a long look.

“It ain’t the
Wasp,
either,” he said.

The two pirates looked at each other, then both rose up, nearly capsizing the swamped dory, and began waving their arms frantical y.

“Over here!” they shouted. “We’re over here!”

With agonizing slowness, the distant ship drew closer; the two castaways, their voices growing hoarse, kept shouting and waving, desperate for a sign of recognition. Final y, Preston saw it.

“Someone’s waving at us!” he shouted, jumping up so violently that the much abused dory final y did capsize, leaving the two pirates swimming, or trying to.

But there was no question; the ship was steering toward them now, and as it drew close, both men could clearly see the person who’d been waving at them, the person who’d seen them first, and saved their sorry lives.

“Why,” said Harbuckle, “it’s a
boy.
”

P
ETER LEANED OVER THE PORT RAIL to watch as the two fat, wet men, clinging to knotted ropes, were hauled slowly aboard the
Never Land.
The seas sweled and shifted, the fat men crying out as they swung like pendulums.

Peter had seen the drowning men first; he’d pointed them out to a sailor, who’d run to tel Slank. Peter had kept waving as the
Never Land
drew closer, to let the men know they’d be rescued.

And now, as they were hauled aboard, Peter was as curious as everyone else to learn who they were, and how they got into their predicament. He joined the crowd forming a circle around the men as they sat on the deck, dripping, panting, looking apprehensively up at their rescuers. Peter noticed Mol y on the other side of the circle. Their eyes met for a moment, then Peter looked away.

Why do I always look away?

“Move aside!” said Slank, shoving his way through the crowd. He stood over the two men and said: “Do you speak English?” The fatter of the two (though not by much) nodded, coughed, and said, “Yes, sir.”

“What’re your names?” asked Slank. “What ship are you from? And how did you end up in the sea?”

“My name is Harbuckle, sir,” said the fatter one. “This here is Preston. We thank you, sir, for saving our lives. We was surely—” Slank interrupted. “I asked you what ship you’re from,” he said. “And how you wound up in the sea.”

“We’re from … the … ah… the
Marcelle
,” said Harbuckle.

The slightly slimmer fat man, Preston, look at his mate, puzzled. “No we’re not,” he said. “We’re from the UNH—” His sentence was cut short by a sharp blow to the side of his head from Harbuckle.

“Hey!” said Preston, rubbing his head.

“Don’t pay him no mind,” said Harbuckle to Slank. “He’s confused from swal owing seawater. He knows good and wel we’re from the
Marcelle
.” Harbuckle was glaring at Preston now. “Got that, mate? The
Marcelle
.”

“Is that so?” said Slank, quietly.

“Yes, sir,” said Harbuckle. “It surely is. She went down in a storm, a bad one. We was lucky to get the dory launched, sir, and if you hadn’t come along, we—”

“I know the
Marcelle
,” interrupted Slank.

“You do?” said Harbuckle, looking surprised.

“I do,” said Slank. “Tel me, did Captain Ferguson go down with the ship?”

Harbuckle hesitated, then said, “Aye, sir, that he did. He was a courageous man, Captain Ferguson.”

“Yes,” said Slank. “He was. Now, there’s one more thing I need you to tel me …”

“What’s that, sir?” said Harbuckle.

Slank drew his knife, the blade’s honed edge glinting. “What part of you do I feed to the sharks first?” The crowd gasped, some drawing back, some moving in for a better view.

“No!” said Harbuckle, his fear-widened eyes riveted on the knife. “Please, sir!
Why?
”

“Because you’re a lying piece of kelp,” said Slank. “The
Marcelle
is commanded by Captain Paige. Captain Ferguson died twenty years ago.” Slank took a step toward Harbuckle, who scrambled backward.

“Please, sir!” he screamed. “No! NO! I’l tel you the truth!”

“And what would that be?” snarled Slank.

“We was thrown off the Sea
Devil
,” said Harbuckle.

Another gasp from the crowd.

Slank barked out a laugh. “D’you expect me to believe that Black Stache would sail with a pair of fat slugs like you?”

“It’s true, sir!” said Harbuckle. “I swear it!” He turned to Preston. “Tel him, Preston! Tel him what ship we’re from!” Preston frowned. “The
Marcelle
,” he said.

“NO!” shouted Harbuckle.

“But you said …”

“TELL HIM THE TRUTH BEFORE HE KILLS US, YOU IDJIT!” screamed Harbuckle.

“Wel , make up your mind!” said Preston. To Slank, he said: “I tried to tel you. We’re from the
Sea Devil.
” Slank studied the two men. “Al right, then,” he said. “If you’re from the
Sea Devil,
what were you doing in the sea? And before you answer, know this: if I think you’re lying, you’l go right back into the sea.” He flashed the blade. “In pieces.”

Harbuckle gulped. “Sir,” he said, “Black Stache put us adrift in a dory.”

“And why would he do that?” said Slank.

“To lighten the
Sea Devil,
” said Harbuckle. “To give her speed. He even threw most of the water barrels overboard.” Another crowd gasp.

“You’re lying,” said Slank, stepping forward again. “No captain throws water overboard.”

“It’s true!” said Harbuckle. “Black Stache is mad! He says now the crew wil have to catch the
Wasp
. To get the water.”

“The
Wasp
?” said Slank. “Black Stache is after the
Wasp?
”

Peter noticed that, across the circle, Mol y had moved forward a step.

Her father is aboard the Wasp.

“Yes,” said Harbuckle. “He says there’s a treasure on the
Wasp.
”

“And what would that be?” said Slank.

“He didn’t specify,” said Harbuckle. “He just said it was a great treasure. The greatest treasure ever taken to sea, he says.” Peter saw Mol y frown.

“The greatest treasure ever taken to sea,” repeated Slank, softly.

“That’s what he says,” said Harbuckle.

“Any clue to the
nature
of this treasure?” Slank asked.

“A trunk,” Harbuckle said. “It’s in a trunk. Black Stache has a prisoner, an officer of the Royal Guard. He’s the one told Black Stache about the trunk. Says a fine trunk was brought aboard just before the
Wasp
set sail, escorted by a dozen armed men.”

“What’s in this trunk?” said Slank.

Mol y was staring hard at the pirate now.

“I dunno,” said Harbuckle. “The Guardsman prisoner don’t know, neither. Just that it’s to go from the Queen of England to the King of Rundoon by the fastest ship afloat, under the heaviest guard. Whatever it is in there, it’s important enough to have two royals concerned about it.” Slank stared out to sea for a long moment, then looked back down at Preston and Harbuckle, who watched him fearful y, awaiting their fate. Another long moment passed.

Final y, Slank spoke.

“You’re pirate scum,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” said Harbuckle, “but we …”

“Shut up,” said Slank. “You’re pirate scum, and what I should do is throw you both over the side right now.” Harbuckle whimpered. Preston wet his pants, but nobody could tel , as his clothes were already soaked.

“But I’m going to let you live,” said Slank.

“THANK YOU, sir!” said Harbuckle. “A thousand …”

“Shut up,” said Slank. “I’m going to let you live
for now,
because you might be useful. For
now.
Little Richard!” The giant loomed behind Slank, his whip coiled on his fat leather belt. “Take this pirate scum below. The rest of you men get back to work.”

The crowd dispersed, the sailors murmuring about the drama they’d just watched. Peter edged his way toward Mol y, who was stil staring at the spot where Harbuckle had lain.

“Mol y?” he said.

She looked up at him, her face blank, her green eyes devoid of their usual sparkle.

“What?” she said.

“I, uh … I… I know your father is on the
Wasp,
” he said.

“Yes.”

“Wel , I hope he’l be al right.”

“Thank you.”

Mol y turned to go. Peter could see she didn’t want to talk, but he burned with curiosity.

“Mol y,” he said.

She turned back.

“I wanted to thank you for last night,” Peter said. “For helping me.”

“You’re welcome.” She started to turn again, but Peter put his hand on her arm.

“Wait,” he said. “How did … I mean, what were you doing in that room? What are they keeping in there? And did you see the rat? In the air? Did you
see
it?” Mol y was staring at him now.