The Pirates and the Nightmaker (5 page)

‘Closer?’

‘They should row their boat on a course that brings them nearer to the
Medusa
, if they can find the strength.’

‘I will tell Mr Wicker …’

‘Do so, but I must to my mother.’

All at once my need to get back to Mr Wicker became pressing again, as if I had kite-strings attached and they were gently but urgently being tugged.

Sophie hurried across the deck, but paused at the top of the companionway, to watch as, obeying the summons, I leapt into the sky and climbed higher and higher before veering to my right. I waved down at her and she half-waved back, and then I flew directly back towards the jolly-boat where waited both my old master and my new.

From on high, I glanced back at the
Medusa
as she sat unmoving in a world of blue, for the ocean and sky were as one. From this height the distance between ship and jolly-boat seemed a small thing but I knew that at sea level they were separated by a horizon of unremitting emptiness. Moreover, to bring the vessels together, the men on the jolly-boat must bridge that gap, must man oars and pull despite cramped stomachs and weakened arms.

For the second time, I alighted effortlessly in the prow of the boat where Mr Wicker still lolled.

‘You have been a considerable time, Loblolly Boy,’ he remarked. ‘What have you discovered?’

At first, I thought I would reveal all I had learnt in one swoop for I was proud of myself and not averse to seeking his favour, but something gave me pause. I felt I would hold back that I had met a girl on board, a girl who could see and hear me, one with whom I had talked.

Instead I spoke of the figurehead and that the barque was called
Medusa
. I said it looked to be crewed by Englishmen
and not Spaniards, but that I had not learnt whether it were a privateer or a pirate ship. I told Mr Wicker it had not flown any flags and that it was utterly becalmed. I did not mention that I had learnt the name of the captain, or that astonishingly the captain was a woman.

‘So not the
Firefly
?’

I shook my head.

‘That was too much to hope for, I suppose, for I would have liked my trunk back. However the
Medusa
is more than satisfactory, more than satisfactory. Ideal, in fact …’

I considered that, given the desperation of their situation, getting his trunk back was a strange desire in the circumstances, but I had already learnt what a strange being the man was. I thought, too, that the
Firefly
under its present regime would have offered even less comfort than the
Medusa
.

But there was an even stranger thing: Mr Wicker seemed especially gratified that the vessel was the
Medusa
. It was as if he knew of her.

‘Well,’ he said decisively. ‘Clearly this barque cannot move to us, so we must row this boat to it.’

I was glad he had made the suggestion. I was not sure I could have made it myself without revealing I had been able to talk with Sophie, and more than ever I felt I needed to keep that knowledge to myself.

‘Captain!’ cried Mr Wicker, then, in a firm voice. ‘I believe that there is a vessel not many leagues from here yonder.’

He pointed over his shoulder in the direction from which I had come. He then added, ‘We must find the strength to
draw nearer to it. The men should take shifts at the oars.’

Captain Lightower opened one sceptical eye and then stared at Mr Wicker in astonishment.

‘I see that you have assumed command of this craft, Mr Wicker,’ he observed. ‘And furthermore would have me and my men ordered by your delusions.’

‘Certainly not, Captain,’ said Mr Wicker amiably. ‘And I am certainly not deluded.’

‘You have been too much in the sun,’ growled the captain.

‘You will recall, Captain,’ said Mr Wicker, ‘how I was able to persuade you to grant me passage on the
Firefly
?’

The captain stared at him balefully.

‘You will remember, gentlemen, the unfortunate end of Jacob Stone?’

The men, who had been staring at Wicker, shifted and looked away.

‘With those things firmly entrenched in our memories, Captain,’ said Mr Wicker easily, ‘I really do consider it important that we row towards the barque
Medusa
which lies just beyond and where I am sure we will receive a welcome from her captain, Jenny Blade, well known in these waters for both her barque
and
her bite, although which is worse, I cannot tell …’ He laughed at his own jest, although it was greeted with silence by the others.

I looked at Mr Wicker in surprise. I was certain I had not mentioned the name of Jenny Blade. Had he been able to read my mind? That was a most disconcerting thought and it troubled me deeply. Did that mean, then, that he must know of Sophie and how she could see me and speak to me? On the
other hand, he had seemed familiar with the
Medusa
, and if that were the case it might only mean he knew the name of her captain. Once again I realised what a deep and mysterious man Mr Wicker was and I reminded myself that I must never take him lightly or underestimate him.

The crew, too, were having similar thoughts albeit for different reasons. Perhaps it was the memory of Jacob Stone, perhaps it was the easy assurance of Mr Wicker, or perhaps it was the chapter and verse of his assertion: the name of the ship and the name of its captain, or probably all three, but after brief muttering and glances to organise themselves, four of the men took to the oars and began to row in the direction of Mr Wicker’s pointing finger.

To my surprise, the captain did not countermand the instruction, but remained scowling in the stern gazing at Mr Wicker with hate-filled eyes.

‘You have done well, little man,’ murmured Mr Wicker, turning to me. ‘We will make a perfect combination.’

I mentioned earlier that I had sought praise from Mr Wicker for my discoveries, but something in this praise chilled me. He had not said,
We have made a perfect combination
; instead he said,
We will make a perfect combination
.

He spoke of the future. He spoke as if what I was now, and what I was to be to Mr Wicker, would continue to be.

I felt a chill that I had experienced only once before. We had been not far from the Caribbean Sea when we had encountered a strange-looking brigantine, heavily armed and with a barricade of iron dividing the top deck.

‘What is that?’ I had asked Dr Hatch.

‘That, Master Loblolly Boy, is a slaver bound, I dare say, for Jamaica same as us. There’ll be more human misery below those decks than a man could possibly reckon. Give thanks you were born an English Christian and not an African heathen, or you could have been counted among the poor benighted souls below.’

The chill I felt then was the chill I felt now. Mr Wicker was hinting that from now on we would be a
combination
, a combination, I suddenly understood, of master and slave.

At least, unlike the slaves on the brigantine, I had no chains of iron. On the contrary, I had wings — and wings surely meant freedom? Without even thinking and without another glance at Mr Wicker, I leapt into the air and rose higher and higher and as I did so the horizons of the world beneath me grew wider and wider.

I then descended and made my way back to the
Medusa
. Apparently, her interview with her mother was over, for as I approached the vessel I could see the lone figure of Sophie Blade again on the poop deck as if she were waiting for me.

‘Well?’ she said.

‘I have made my report to Mr Wicker.’

‘And?’

I looked at her carefully. ‘I did not tell him everything,’ I confessed.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I did not tell him of you, Sophie. I was about to, when something begged me not to. I mean, he is a strange and mysterious man possessed of unearthly powers.’ I held
up my hands. ‘See, this is what he has made of me. He has made me invisible. I know not how he might react to discover some people can see me.’

‘I see,’ she said, wrinkling her nose once more.

‘If it’s possible,’ I said, ‘we should hide this from him. He may well be able to tell … who knows? But he may not. It would be better for you, perhaps for me, if he did not know.’

‘So I must pretend that I cannot see you?’

‘It would be best,’ I said. ‘And there is something else. I thought he had made me this way to save me from a horrible fate, that it was out of the goodness of his heart, but …’

‘But …?’

‘But I am beginning to think there is no goodness in his heart and that there was some other reason, some other purpose he has in mind.’

‘A secret purpose?’

I nodded. ‘It is just a feeling. But it is a feeling that I can’t escape and lies heavy on me.’

‘So, Loblolly Boy,’ said Sophie, ‘what is happening then?’

‘Mr Wicker has set the men a-rowing,’ I told her. ‘They will be heading this way.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘I anticipated this, so here is my plan. Presently I will climb the mast. When they come into view, I will sound
Boat ahoy
! Then matters must take their course.’

‘Climb the mast?’

‘Well I will have to, won’t I? That’s where the crow’s nest is!’

I looked at her disbelievingly. How could this young girl, in a cap and a red skirt, even contemplate the terrors of
that stomach-churning climb to the crow’s nest, let alone actually do it.

‘Wait,’ she said, and then hurried away. Sometime later she reappeared and I saw that this time she had a telescope tucked into the top of her waistband. She stood at the top of the companionway, and said, ‘Shall I see you aloft? You can help me spy the boat.’

Clearly she had been serious. I went to the poop rail, curious, as she dropped to the top deck and ran towards the main mast. Without pause Sophie seized the rope ladder and began to climb. Lost in admiration, I watched for some time as she clambered higher and higher without pause, passing each spar until she had cleared the topgallant and the final platform was in sight. Before she reached that final goal, I had leapt into the air myself and flew up towards her, just in time to meet her as she reached the crow’s nest.

Despite the heat, she was scarcely more puffed than I.

‘You have done that before,’ I laughed.

‘Of course,’ she said airily.

‘Your mother …?’

I meant how was her mother able to countenance the dangers of her climbing the mast, when grown men would quail at the prospect.

Sophie turned to me and smiled. ‘In truth,’ she said, ‘my mother encourages me aloft, especially in times of action. She considers me safer up here and out of harm’s way.’

I saw what she meant. At the same time, she had just let slip another clue as to the nature of Jenny Blade’s activities on the high sea.

At that point, Sophie withdrew her telescope from her waistband and trained it on the horizon, swinging it from left to right. I flew higher than the mast, then, and scanned the ocean as well. When I saw the jolly-boat, I dropped to the crow’s nest and pointed Sophie in the right direction and she adjusted her telescope, and we waited.

It did not seem very long afterwards that Sophie exclaimed, ‘I have it!’

She continued to fix her telescope on the approaching boat until she could make it out clearly with her naked eye. At that point she lowered the telescope once more and shouted ‘Boat ahoy!’ in a surprisingly loud voice, while pointing towards the boat. Every few seconds she repeated the cry, if anything even more loudly.

Below, on deck, her cries soon attracted attention, and men gathered on the starboard side of the vessel staring out to sea, as more men emerged from below decks. I saw that one figure on the quarterdeck appeared to command most respect and I guessed that this must be Jenny Blade, the captain.

Like the go-between I had now become, I whispered to Sophie that I would hurry to the jolly-boat to let Mr Wicker know they had been spotted.

She put the telescope to one side and grinned. I liked her, I realised. She was brave and clever and I felt a growing trust that, pirate ship or not, the men would not be treated barbarously once they were taken on board.

The journey to the jolly-boat was not so long, for the oarsmen had made good progress. Once I landed beside Mr
Wicker, who was now standing in the prow like a figurehead, I understood why. The
Medusa
, with its tall masts and limp sails, was now clearly in view and this had energised the sailors who, despite their suffering, were rowing like men possessed.

‘The men on the
Medusa
have seen the jolly-boat,’ I reported to Mr Wicker.

‘Good,’ he murmured.

I turned to the others in the boat. The men were clearly now in some awe of Mr Wicker, even Captain Lightower was gripping the gunwales and staring at the barque in a kind of disbelieving wonder.

Beside him, my previous master sat, slack-jawed and open-mouthed. ‘Row, ye lubbers!’ he croaked. ‘Row, damn you! For there’ll be victuals enough soon and drink, I’ll be bound!’

I noted that this pleasing prospect was not sufficient to entice him to take an oar himself, although it was sufficiently pleasing for him to clench and unclench his fists in excited anticipation.

Slowly, remorselessly, the jolly-boat drew ever closer to the
Medusa
. By now we could see the figures on the deck watching our approach. I flew away from the jolly-boat and crossed once again to the barque. At some point Sophie must have descended from the crow’s nest for she was now standing not far from her mother on the quarterdeck. I landed as close to them as I dared, as I was curious about this woman who happened to be both a pirate captain and the mother of my new acquaintance.

Because of the tropic sun, she wore no jacket but a loose shirt and her long hair was wrapped in a red bandana. Unlike Sophie, she did not wear a skirt but pantaloons, stockings and boots of Spanish leather, like her men. In the manner of her men, too, she wore a scabbarded sabre by her side. Were it not for the fact that she was beardless, she might have been taken for a man, so berry-brown was her face from years of sun and salt-spray. This was not a woman who had preserved a complexion of ivory by reclining in darkened drawing rooms or brocaded chambers.

‘How many are there?’ she asked her companion, presumably her lieutenant, an older man with a
battle-scarred
face.

He lifted a telescope and counted under his breath. Then, lowering it again, he turned to Jenny Blade and said, ‘Nine, I believe: one in the prow, standing, two in the stern and six amidships, four of them rowing.’

‘It will be them, most like,’ said Jenny Blade, ‘unless by some strange chance they are Spanish?’

The lieutenant replied, ‘It is hard to say. The tall man in the prow could be I suppose. He looks swarthy enough. I cannot yet make much of the others. Who is to tell?’