Treasure Lost

R. G. Cordiner

Createspace (2009)

Rating:

★★★★☆

Tags:

Juvenile Fiction, Action Adventure, General

Juvenile Fictionttt Action Adventurettt Generalttt

Product Description

What do you treasure and how far would you go to find it? Peter and Farren are two brothers who think adventure is sneaking into a pub or going rabbit hunting. Little do they know! Soon the youths are on a whirlwind trip of betrayal, daggers, self-discovery and a giant reticulated python! Somehow they have to find a way to stop fighting with each other, avoid a sadistic Navy Admiral and a mysterious pirate captain whilst remembering to tap the biscuits on the side of the ship - maggots are never good for breakfast! "If you came for treasure it lies within, if you did not, what you treasure lies beyond your grasp."

About the Author

R.G. Cordiner is a teacher and author residing in Australia. Treasure Lost was his first book. He has subsequently released Candy Wars: The Tooth Fairies vs The Candy King, Bug Island and Candy Wars II: Sweet Revenge. He is currently writing Alien Hunters: Discovery. He is married with two step-children and three psychotic cats. For more information go to cordiner.wordpress.com

What do you treasure and how far would you go to find it?

Peter and Farren are two brothers who think adventure is sneaking into a pub or going rabbit hunting. Little do they know! Soon the youths are on a whirlwind trip of betrayal, daggers, self-discovery and a giant reticulated python!

Somehow they have to find a way to stop fighting with each other, avoid a sadistic Navy Admiral and a mysterious cloaked pirate captain, whilst remembering to tap the biscuits on the side of the ship – maggots are never good for breakfast!

“If you came for treasure it lies within,

if you did not, what you treasure lies beyond your grasp.”

...

PUBLISHED BY:

R.G. Cordiner

Treasure Lost

Copyright © 2009 by R.G. Cordiner

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Whilst every attempt has been made to create historically accurate situations, all speech has been modernised.

...

To my wife Kim - You are the treasure I never want to lose

To the boys - treasure every moment

To my family - thanks for your constant support

To the kids I've taught - treasure your learning

Books by R.G. Cordiner:

OUT NOW:

Treasure Lost

Candy Wars: The Tooth Fairies vs The Candy King

Bug Island

Candy Wars II: Sweet Revenge

Candy Wars I and II: The Sugar Hit

COMING SOON:

Alien Hunters: Discovery

TREASURE LOST

R.G. Cordiner

Chapter 1

The Meeting

The sea crashed relentlessly against the rocks, in a hopeless attempt to destroy them. Further up the cliff face a lone gull huddled deeper into its feathers in a desperate attempt to stay warm as the storm drove bitter stakes of cold into it. At the peak of the sheer rock wall sat a lone building like the last fortress against evil. The wind whistled through the holes in the fragile timber boards as it crept inside and attacked the people within. The building was so much a part of its surroundings that it seemed almost grown from the top of the cliff. The voices within the pub strained to be heard over the howling storm and the creaking boards. The owners of the voices were a varied bunch of ruffians and thugs whose stories were etched on their faces and carved into their bodies … with two notable exceptions.

The youths were too young to drink, yet old enough to try. The publican had been in this situation many a time before. He figured that they were not just buying their first pint, but a lifetime of enslavement to the amber drop, and where better to become addicted, than in his ‘fine’ establishment. The two teenagers gratefully handed over their coins and quickly retreated to their alcove, lest the owner have time to reconsider. As they slowly sipped at their drinks they felt as if it was a form of magic elixir that immediately transformed them. No longer did they feel trapped in the chasm between child and adult. In one sip, they believed they had made the leap from one to the other without all of that impatient waiting. Their bony chests swelled out and they broke out in enormous grins. Little did they know that it was mostly flavoured water that they were drinking.

“This is great ale,” exclaimed Peter.

“You wouldn’t know a good ale if it landed in your lap.” said Farren, beginning to warm to the topic.

“Would too,” attested Peter

“Would not.”

“Would …” and the eloquent reply that Peter was going to make was, at that point, cut short by the door of the pub flying open. Silence enveloped the room as all eyes turned to watch the entrance.

However, the only arrival was the wind, which gratefully took the opportunity and swept victoriously into the building so that everyone drew their cloaks tighter. The door continued to bang on its hinges, straining to close, yet at the last minute being flung backwards. Again it tried to close, and once more the wind was having none of it and threw the door back, only to reveal a figure silhouetted in the doorway.

Before the door could attempt to shut again, the man had edged into the room and his tired face surveyed his destination. He hadn’t planned on being here, but there was little choice now. With the exception of Peter and Farren who continued to stare, all of the occupants recognised one of their own and returned to their drinks. The man scratched at his raggedy beard and grimaced. He noticed that there were two young men sitting in a booth. Too young by the look of them. Both were tall and gangly. “Brothers,” he thought. His eyes locked onto the youths who realised that they had been staring at the man’s bedraggled and bloody clothes and, not wanting to add their own blood, quickly stared at the floor. The new arrival stood a while longer and then, as if making a decision, began to make his way across the wooden floorboards.

Farren whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “Is he still looking at us?” Peter tentatively raised his eyes and to his horror saw that he was hobbling over in their direction.

“He’s coming towards us!” Farren’s eyes widened as he looked at his brother and then he turned, as if in slow motion, to see the old man was almost at their table. He quickly looked down again.

Still determinedly staring at the beer-stained floor, desperately hoping that an escape route would miraculously make itself known, the boys heard the tap-tap of the man’s staff sounding the death of their hopes of an enjoyable evening. Into their vision came two mud-encrusted boots and then a gnarled walking stick that could have almost passed for a club. They slowly raised their eyes, taking in the dark stains on the man’s pants, the large skull on his belt, the criss-cross of scars visible through the holes in his shirt and the giant, tattoo covered arms that were reaching towards their table. Their eyes slowly completed their horrifying journey by arriving at the gaping holes in the man’s mouth, where once teeth must have lived and his milky eyes that were boring into them.

“Mind if I join ya, lads?” the man’s query was accompanied by the fetid stench of old beer and vomit.

“Umm,” said Peter

“Cheers,” grunted the newcomer and promptly grabbed a seat and slumped into it.

“Uuhh … I’m Farren and …” said Farren

“I don’t have time for stuff like that,” said the man grimacing, and he furtively looked over his shoulder.

“Listen lads,” he said, leaning closer so that the two boys could see what appeared to be blood slowly drip onto the table off his matted beard, “I know most of the blokes here and the only thing they care about is spending money on more drink. Most of them would quite happily cut my throat for less than it costs for those pints,” he said, nodding towards the drinks. “I was sent to find something. But now … I’ve had second thoughts about where it should go and I don’t have a lot of time. I need someone I can trust and you two look pretty trustworthy, am I right?”

Both boys vigorously nodded their heads, too scared of the consequences of disagreement. A hacking cough from their guest brought the boys out of their thoughts of imminent death. With another glance around the room, he shuffled a little closer to the two scared youths and proceeded to reach into the depths of his ragged cloak. He brought out an equally tattered piece of what looked like parchment, reached across, grabbed Farren’s shaking hand and roughly shoved the remains into it. He then forcibly closed Farren’s fist around it.

He looked both boys in the eye and, with another chest rattling cough, said, “Now that there is the most important thing you’ll ever own. But make sure it nev …,” he paused, as if struggling to find the words. “It’s actu …,” he paused again. The boys glanced at each other in confusion.

The man’s face slammed into the table. Farren and Peter jumped out of their seats in shock. When they gazed down, his problem came sharply into focus in the shape of a large curved knife sticking out of his back. They noticed the growing pool of blood on the floor and a roomful of eyes focussed on them. Standing, they looked at each other. What was going on? A moment earlier they felt on the brink of adulthood, now they had fallen back into the roles of two scared boys. The room full of eyes that the boys had interpreted as accusatory, had seen it all before many times, and with a shrug and a drink, returned to their attempts to forget. Realising that attention had shifted away from them, Farren and Peter looked at each other.

“What’s happening? What do we do?” cried Peter.

“Let’s just get out of here,” replied Farren hastily.

“Well, what about him? We can’t just leave him!” asked Peter, his conscience getting the better of him.

“Peter, let’s go,” said Farren impatiently. “We can’t do anything for him now.”

“But …” Peter began, but was interrupted by his brother who grabbed his shirt and began dragging him out of the pub.

They stumbled outside into the night. As they made their way down the hill, it was not the brisk wind that was making them start to shiver.

...

PMP, PMP, PMP

PMP, PMP, PMP

The boys ran, their footsteps echoing on the cobbled stones. They leaned into the wind’s embrace, trying to put as much distance between them and the pub as possible. Their legs felt leaden and it seemed to take forever to make their way along the path. Soon they came to the outskirts of the village.

It had once been a lively and popular place to live, however the sea had brought with it, not only a whiff of money, but others who were attracted to the smell like vultures. So if the boys were not so focussed on getting home they might have paused at the docks (although not for long) and seen its collection of nefarious characters and the daunting shadows of the ships. They may well have slowed as they came closer to the centre of town and noted that many of the houses were beginning to fray at the edges as the wealth that had swept into the town was so quickly being sucked back out. Curtains were drawn as they passed and candles hastily blown out. If they had looked down side streets, they may have heard the groans of men slumped in the shadows, their money taken from them either by force or by drink. They may have even realised that the streets seemed to clear in front of them as people scurried like roaches as fear dragged them back into the shadows. But no, the boys went on, oblivious to the world around them.

Finally they came to the familiar curved oak door, whereupon they turned, quickly jumped the hedge and made their way around to the side of the house. Their window was still ajar as they had left it and, trying to silence their bodies, the brothers climbed through the windows and then turned to face the shapes in their beds. They drew the covers back, removed the strategically placed pillows and took their place in the bed.

That night was a restless one for both Farren and Peter, as their dreams were frequented with visions of leering old faces, knives and blood that would not stop flowing. They awoke to find their beds and clothes drenched in sweat.

They made their way out to the kitchen. An elderly lady stood over the stove, sweat trickling down her brow as she stirred a large pot that simmered over the open flame. The room was filled with the smell of breakfast and the sound of bubbling and humming.

“Hey, nanna,” exclaimed Farren as he pecked her wrinkled cheek.

“Good night was it lads?” she asked, ruffling Farren’s blond hair.

“What do you mean? What are you saying?” asked Peter nervously.

She gave a wry smile. “I was just asking whether you enjoyed your night out, love.”

Farren glared at Peter, “Course we did nanna, just a … just a quiet night out.”

“Hmm,” she murmured a twinkle in her eye, “Well I hope you’re planning a quiet day as well, because there are plenty of jobs to do – and cleaning the privy is one of ‘em.”

“Yes nanna,” the boys groaned (although secretly they were pleased at the chance to return to normality after the previous night).

They both sat at the large wooden table and a rich creamy soup was soon placed in front of them. Nanna turned back and, taking deep breaths of its intoxicating aroma, slowly spooned soup into her bowl. She smiled to herself, blue sky, soup and the boys – what better way to start the day. “Look boys, how about today we ….” She turned and stopped. Two empty bowls stared back. She sighed. Kids!

...

The boys had quickly completed their chores under their grandmother’s watchful gaze and, it being a typical Saturday, were heading to the local market.

“Do you think she suspects?” Peter asked his brother.

“Lord Almighty Peter, let it rest! I’m more concerned about getting more bolts. I can’t believe that you wasted that many on one small rabbit!” Irritated, Farren pushed on through the crowds gathered around the two bedraggled roosters who were making a half hearted attempt to fight and made his way to his favourite stall.

“I just don’t want to get in trouble from Nanna, that’s all. And if you let me use your crossbow more often, then I wouldn’t need to use so many bolts,” Peter frowned. “Besides it was a really quick rabbit,” he added.

Farren laughed, “Yeh, right. Well all I know is that you can pay for them.”

“What!” cried Peter, “That’s not fair! You know I have almost saved enough for my own sword. That’ll set me back a couple of weeks!”

Frowning, Farren replied, “Look, it’s not my fault that you chose to be an apprentice for old Cleman. Everyone knows that locksmithing doesn’t pay as well as blacksmithing. I mean, it should, because everyone seems to want new locks these days, but it doesn’t. It still doesn’t change the fact that you used all my bolts.”

There was a pause. Farren stared into his brother’s brown eyes. “Alright, that’s fair,” Peter conceded. Farren smiled. “Typical,” he thought. Peter reluctantly bought the replacement bolts. He glanced longingly at the sword that now seemed even further out of his reach.

...

As they walked, Farren gazed at his new bolts, which he lovingly caressed.

“Twelve bolts … twelve dead rabbits!” he exclaimed. Noticing that there was no enthusiastic response about his rabbit-killing abilities from his brother, Farren glanced up from his beloved bolts and noticed that Peter was frowning.

“What, you don’t think I can kill twelve rabbits?” he asked.

“Farren,” Peter replied, ignoring his brother, “Last night that man gave you something didn’t he?”

“Oh yeh,” Farren’s brown eyes lit up, “I’d forgotten all about that. Here … it should still be in my pocket.”

“NO!”

Farren paused, his hand half inside his tunic.

“Wait until we get back. It must have been important for him to give it to us just before he … well … you know. We should look at it when we get home not out here in the street where anyone can see,” insisted Peter.

Farren looked into the determined eyes of his brother.

“Well, I suppose,” he reluctantly conceded.

...

Upon their return, the boys quickly retreated to their room and Farren fumbled through the pockets before he found the scrap. He uncrumpled and flattened it out on the bed.

“Beware! The … Ursula is an … What is all this?”

Peter paused and scratched at his short, brown hair, “… Well, I guess it’s a map, obviously. There’s clearly a piece missing, but that bit there looks like part of an island. I guess the writing is some sort of warning – but about what? And I have never heard of a ship called the ‘Ursula’ before.”

“Whatever it is, it sounds a lot more interesting than hunting rabbits!” Farren was beginning to get excited. “We could be talking monsters, treasure, pirates, excitement, you name it!” He began to jump around the room.

“Hmm, yeh, excitement. I don’t think we’re going to be too excited to find a knife sticking out of our backs.”

“Aw, c’mon Peter, don’t be a spoil sport. This could be our ticket out; our ticket to a new life of adventure!”

Peter frowned. “Farren, we have half a map that people will kill for. That’s a ticket alright … a ticket to an early grave.”

Farren reluctantly put the fragment away, muttering to himself, “The rate we’re going it’ll be death by boredom!”

...

Meanwhile at the wharf, a ship quietly docked. A huge man stood at the wheel, his face criss-crossed with scars and his body adorned with a variety of unusual tattoos. He grunted as they arrived. He turned to the hooded figure next to him.

“We here cap’n,” he muttered. A steady rattling noise came from within the figure’s cloak.

“Good, find out where Aron went,” the soft voice said.

“An’ if we find ‘im?” the bosun asked.

The captain slowly turned to face the large man.

“Get my map and then kill him … slowly”.

Chapter 2

Knock! Knock!

Farren lay as low as he possibly could in the dense shrub, ignoring the prickles that tugged at his tunic. He frowned. Had he been heard? It seemed that every beat of his heart was like a war drum and, what was worse, his breath felt like a siren giving out his location for all to find. Surely any fool could hear him? Speaking of which, he slowly turned to glance behind him, his eyes scanning the forest.

“Farren?” The low whisper drifted through the trees.

Crrk!

His head whipped towards where the twig had been. He fumed.

“Peter, for god’s sake … stay low and keep up!”

His brother crouched and came closer. “Hey Farren … slow down will you?”

“Look,” Farren pointed towards a thicket ahead of them, “unless we are very quiet and stick together then we’ll never catch them.”

“That’s what I’m saying. If you slowed down then I wouldn’t have to rush and make so much noise,” complained Peter.

“Shhh!”

“Don’t tell mmmmmmm,” Peter’s comment was cut abruptly short by his brother’s hand.

Farren motioned that something was ahead and, checking to see that Peter had understood that silence was a necessity, raised his crossbow. He then carefully placed a bolt in the bolt rest and, as quietly as he could manage, drew back the string until it was taut and resting on the latch.

A thin bead of sweat dripped onto his nose and, desperately trying to ignore it, he raised the crossbow and looked down the bolt at the thicket ahead. It quivered again. Farren glanced out the corner of his eye at his brother and noticed that his rusty sword was shaking slightly. He sighed, ‘typical!’ Suddenly there was a flash of grey from the bush!

He flicked the latch.

The bolt flew through the air.

WHHW!

PHMP!

“Did you get him?” Peter asked.

“No, Peter, for the fourth time, I didn’t get him. I don’t know why I bother sometimes, I really don’t.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault.”

“No, well here’s another bolt stuck in a tree and now it’s completely useless.” Farren was getting increasingly agitated. “Not that it’s the only completely useless thing around here!” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Never mind, let’s just go home.”

...

They made their way through the forest, the rustling of the trees and the crunching of leaves underfoot providing the only noise as both boys trudged home, lost in their own thoughts. They emerged, blinking in the sunlight, at the familiar cottage.

“Hey look, there’s smoke over there,” Peter noticed.

“Probably just kids,” replied Farren as he opened the back door.

As the boys stepped onto the stone floor there was a loud banging on the front door.

BOOMPH! BOOMPH!

“Now who could that be?” Their grandmother cautiously drew aside the curtain and the boys heard her gasp.

“Boys – lift up the rug – there’s a trapdoor underneath.” They both looked at her, puzzled. “Quickly!” she whispered. Sensing the urgency in her voice, they went to the rug and lifted it up. Sure enough, for all this time, there was a rusted iron rung underneath and the vague, dusty outline of a door. They tugged at it, as more frantic knocking sounded at the front door.

BOOMPH! BOOMPH!

The boys scrambled down the moss covered stones into a confined, dank room that seemed to be filled with boxes and odd shapes. As the rug descended over the floorboards, the boys could see a glimpse of light in the corner of the cramped little area. They huddled over closer to it, but they could barely make out any of the room above. They could hear footsteps as their nanna walked over to the door.

“Coming, coming,” she said.

They heard the door slowly creak open.

“Righ’ miss, out the way,” a deep voice rumbled.

“Chad that is no way to treat Madame. I apologise for my companion. He is, ‘ow you say … direct. We were told you have two boys staying here, non? We think they ‘ave something of ours.” The voice’s owner had the unmistakeable sound of a French accent.

“They must be out,” their grandmother replied abruptly.

“Well, Madame, I’m sure you won’t mind if we have a look, non?”

“Actually I do mind. Get out of my house.” The boys could hear that their nanna’s voice was shaking.

“Madame, now that you are an old lady that commands only a cottage, what makes you think I care what you want? So, either we look around or Chad ‘ere will ‘ave no ‘esitation in slitting your throat.”

“Uggh,” the other man grunted.

They heard a sword unsheathed. “Don’t think that because I know you that either of us wouldn’t think twice about it. Chad, take some men and look around.”

In the musty basement below the boys lay tense, straining to hear what was happening above. The little light that filtered through flickered as people passed overhead. They couldn’t work out how many there were in the house.

Farren turned to Peter and whispered in his ear, “I’ve had enough of this – let’s go up there and take them!”

Peter turned, “Farren, there are at least five guys up there, who all sound bigger than us and, not to mention it, are most likely trained killers. But you seem to think that you and I, who are currently unarmed although, of course, we do have extensive fighting experience against rabbits, will somehow leap forth from here and defeat them. Oh, I almost forgot – with the able assistance of our old nanna – who’ll fight them with what? The frying pan??”

Farren gritted his teeth, “Fine, we’ll just stay here and do nothing … as always!”

Peter turned and put his fingers to his lips and pointed. The thumping and crashing around above them appeared to have ceased and the boys heard the deep voice of the bosun. “Renard, they not here.”

“The captain will not be ‘appy. First Aron gets lost on a simple mission and somehow goes and gets ‘imself killed. Then ‘e gives it to two brats we can’t find,” the Frenchman paused. “Alors, we do not ‘ave much time. Take Madame ‘ere and let’s go. The Captain can decide what to do with ‘er.”

Above them they heard their grandmother say, “Alright, I wanted to see the Nemesis again anyway.”

The man called Renard laughed. “I will make sure that this time it will be au revoir.” And with that, they left.

Farren reached for the latch but was pulled back by Peter. “Wait until we know they are gone.”

The breathing of the two boys was the only sound in the confined space.

Hhhhhhhhhhhhh ………..

Hhhhhhhhhhhhh ………

Hhhhhhhhhhhhh …..

“Right, I’ve had enough. Let’s check it out.” Farren started to push on the wooden opening above their heads.

“Why don’t we just wait a little bit longer,” insisted Peter.

“I’m sick of waiting. Always waiting! They’re not coming back. Let’s just go.” Farren’s voice began to tremble with annoyance. He grunted as he pushed on the oak. It lifted a little, offering them a small glimpse into the room above.

Hearing no further noise emanating from the cottage, they climbed out of the hidden chamber, closed the door, replaced the rug and then gazed in bewilderment at the sight before them.

Years of belongings that had been carefully hoarded and preserved were scattered carelessly throughout the cottage, as if a maelstrom had suddenly hit. Their world had quite literarily been turned upside down. They walked towards their bedroom and, sure enough, it was also in a state of disarray. There were sword marks through their beds and their clothes were strewn all over the room. Favoured memories lay crushed on the ground. Farren was the first to awaken from their astonished stupor.

“Jesus, they’ve destroyed everything. What do we do now?”

“Hmmm,” Peter sat down amongst the rubble.

“… well?” asked Farren.

“I’m thinking, alright,” Peter snapped back.

Farren waited.

His brother scratched his head, “They’re obviously searching for the parchment for some reason. I guess it must be important. I don’t understand why they seemed to know Nanna, though.”

“Maybe she worked on a boat when she was younger,” suggested Farren.

“Yeh, well she always seemed a bit nautical.”

“Peter, how could you say something like that?! We are talking about our Nanna, here!” Farren replied indignantly.

Peter sighed. “Nautical means she was interested in boats and things to do with the sea, Farren.”

“I knew that,” mumbled his brother.

“Well, Nanna mentioned the Nemesis. I guess that must be the ship they are using. That means they must be heading towards the wharfs.”

“Right, let’s go then.” Farren started to make his way towards the door.

“Wait,” Peter held him back. “We can’t just march off and attack them. We should follow, but let’s get some stuff together first before we go.”

“But they’re getting away!” Farren was beginning to get irritated.

“But Farren, that’s ok – we still don’t know what to do if we catch them. And we will be in a much better position if we have actually packed some stuff and had a chance to think things through. It may take us quite a while to find her,” Peter replied.

They went to their rooms, which were a complete mess. The boys scavenged through the wreckage and quickly packed some clothes – a jerkin to keep them warm, some comfortable leather shoes, some open-necked shirts, a couple of pairs of hose (with a belt to keep them up) and their flat caps. They collected some cheese, nuts, dried fish and bread, a flagon of water and a small knife for the journey ahead. Farren picked up his crossbow and bolts.

Peter frowned, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? We’re not hunting rabbits you know.”

Farren stood up, “Yeh, but we are still hunting.”

They shuddered as they surveyed the room in what had been their home for as long as they could remember. In a few short moments it had all been brutally crushed. With a sigh they both turned and left the room and made their way out into the world beyond.

...

The wharf was a bubbling cauldron of noise and activity as vessels were loaded and unloaded with cargo, people and animals. It had been, until now, a place well avoided, for there were frequently groups of men who would press gang boys of their age into service on either a pirate or navy vessel. Of course, the fact that the smell of rotting fish smacked into their nostrils and crawled under their skin probably had something to do with it as well. The boys turned the corner and once their eyes stopped watering from the stench, they saw about forty vessels of varying sizes and shapes. Once they would have been impressed with the sight of the creaking, old Portuguese naos being loaded with cargo or the large three masted Spanish galleon preparing to depart, but the youths were not so easily distracted.

They were quickly spotted by a large, burly sailor who approached them. His muscles were covered in scars and tattoos. His weather beaten face grimaced.

“Afternoon boys. Fancy an adventure?”

“Sure,” said Farren, “where’s … ” and he was cut short by Peter who dragged him further down the dock.

“What was that about?” asked Farren as he wrested himself clear of his brother.

“I’m not sure that that’s the sort of adventure we’re looking for,” replied Peter.

“What do you mean?”

“We need to be on the deck of a boat, like a deckhand or something, so we can keep an eye out. The last thing we need is to be stuck in the brig waiting to be sold as slaves.”

Farren scowled. His brother was getting very irritating.

Peter spotted two old, wrinkled sailors leaning against the rotting boards of the building. He walked over to them.

“Excuse me sirs?”

“Yes, laddie, what can we do you for?” the old man’s mouth barely moved as he spoke.

“We were supposed to start today as deckhands on a ship – the Nemesis. But we can’t seem to find it – do you know if it has docked yet?” Peter asked as his brother walked up to join him.

“Huh, the Nemesis, hey. Everyone’s heard of that ship. Looks like you boys drew the short straw if you were going to be stuck on that vessel. But boys you’re lucky you missed it … it left maybe twenty minutes ago.” It looked as though a smile crossed his face – although it was hard to tell, as all his wrinkles simply repositioned themselves.

“You didn’t happen to see which direction it went?” Peter couldn’t disguise the eagerness on his face.

“I didn’t, did you Bill?”

“Wassa?”

“The Nemesis’ heading, Bill”

“Sou’ we’,” mumbled the old man

Noticing the boys’ puzzled expressions, he translated, “South west.”

“Thanks sirs!” Peter and Farren walked off closer to the ships.

“Well now we just have to find someone who’s going the same way,” said Farren.

“Let’s split up and ask – we should try the cabin boys or deckhands – they’re probably more likely to tell us.”

Sure enough, it was not long before they met Malhair, a young, tousle haired deckhand.

“What do you guys want?” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“We are looking for work as deckhands, wherever we can get it,” replied Peter.

Malhair looked them up and down.

“Well we are short a couple of hands,” he began, “but do you have any experience at all?”

“Well, no. But we are keen to work.”

“They all say that,” replied Malhair and turned.

So it was quickly decided and, as they slowly made their way up the gnarled gangplank, the boys hesitated slightly. They glanced at each other and nervous smiles spread out across their faces … each person thinking, “A bit of adventure – this could end up being fun yet!”

Chapter 3

All Aboard!

“Bleeeaugh!”

For the fifth time, the dwindling contents of Peter’s stomach were violently thrown overboard. He was still amazed that he had anything left to contribute to the wake of the ship.

Peter watched the waves lick the side of the vessel for a while and then turned his attention back to the deck. It was smaller than he expected, considering the number of people on board. Not all of the crew were on deck, some presumably below sleeping off the previous night. A couple of young men were half-heartedly scrubbing the deck, some were playing what looked like cards and others were sleeping in whatever crevice they could find. He looked up and could barely make out movement in the crow’s nest above. It was hard enough trying to see it in amongst the sails.

‘Eeeeeee!’ A high pitched whistle sounded across the ship, and brought Peter out of his thoughts.

“What on earth was that?” Farren turned to ask one of the other deckhands.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “It’s the bosun’s pipe. He’s going to give us our orders!”

“C’mon, you can rest when you’re dead!! Back to work, the lot o’ ya!!” The bosun’s face began to turn a beetroot red as he hefted his ponderous bulk down the stairs like an oversized penguin.

“Boy,” he roared, pointing at Malhair, “check the glass, ring the bell. You,” his stubby finger jabbed towards Farren, “let out the log. And Aeolus,” the red haired youth looked up at his name, “you help him and do the line. And you two,” he rolled his head towards Peter and a lanky boy known as Reeve, “you can start scrubbing the decks.”

He paused. “Well!” he roared, “what are you waiting for … COME ON!” The five boys scurried off, whilst the bosun stood with a grimace and looked out at the rapidly retreating coastline.

Aeolus began to explain to Farren, “I throw out the log and you count those coloured knots on the rope. When Reeve calls out the time, we can work out how fast we are going.” Farren nodded and then asked, “So where are we headed?”

Aeolus laughed, “You mean you don’t know? Hang on, let me guess, a guy came up to you asking if you wanted an adventure, right?”

Farren nodded, “Something like that.”

“Well, mate I hope you’re enjoying it because this is as adventurous as it gets. We go out, we get cargo, we come back, and so the merry jig continues.”

“So we’re not likely to meet any trouble, like say … pirates?”

Aeolus gave him a probing look, “Well it’s not on the plan, why, you know some?”

Farren returned the look with interest, “No, it’s just that my brother and I weren’t forced to join this ship, we volunteered. We were hoping for a quiet trip.”

Aeolus smiled, “Everyone volunteers mate. Getting on board is easy enough. It’s the getting off bit that’s hard. Unless you’re dead that is. That’s where those pirates can help you.”

Farren stuck out his chin, “I can hold my own. I’ve even got my own crossbow.”

Aeolus paused for a second and then laughed in a high pitched cackle that whipped out across the air, caught the bosun’s attention and reeled him over to them. He waddled closer, leaned forward so that the fat below his face flapped in the breeze and bellowed, “C’mon lads, get to it or you’ll feel a taste o’ the cat!!” Both boys hastily resumed their duties under the beady gaze of the large man.

...

On the other side of the creaking vessel, the captain was at the helm and near him Malhair was carefully watching the falling sand in the hourglass, poised to strike the bell. Below on the deck, Reeve and Peter were on their hands and knees scrubbing the slimy boards as the majority of sailors slumbered beneath.

Peter lowered his voice, “Reeve, so is the bosun as bad as he sounds?”

“Well he will use the whip, if that’s what you mean. I have had worse, and had better,” the blond haired youth said.

“So do you enjoy doing this?”

“Enjoy? Who enjoys?? I’m from a small village. I never really had the skills for a trade … if I keep my head down and work hard, maybe I could run my own ship one day.” Reeve’s eyes looked distant.

“Well, I suppose there are worse ships to be on.”

“What?” Reeve shook his head, as if waking up. “Yeah, of course there are worse – there are some awful captains in these waters, not to mention pirates.”

“Pirates? In these waters?”

“Uh huh. Whenever we go west we run the risk. The ones around here would rip the flesh from your bones as soon as speak to you. And I heard that some of the pirate captains are actually demons!”

Peter scrubbed silently. He doubted the rumours that Reeve had heard, but nevertheless, they often were based on fact … weren’t they?

...

The fire crackled on the deck and licked at the sides of the two huge iron cauldrons that squatted over it. The smell of soup wafted through the air and, despite it not being the most pleasant of odours, it still tugged at the hungry crew. Several sailors lounged close to the heat and were playing a game of cards that was becoming rowdier as their wine rations quickly disappeared. Others sprawled over rigging, in hammocks or wherever they could find room on the creaking deck. Peter and Farren sat near Aeolus and Malhair with their bowls, some biscuits and dried sardines. Reeve sat on the prow lost in his own world.

Peter looked into his bowl at the oily soup and, as he stirred it, bits of gristly bacon, garlic and chick peas oozed to the surface. He sighed. Farren brought his biscuit to his mouth and … “Wait!” Malhair grabbed it off him and tapped the biscuit on the side of the ship. Six maggots flopped overboard.

He turned to Farren, “Now you can eat it.”

“Oh Malhair,” Aeolus whined, “you ruined the fun. That was good fresh meat that was!”

It was later and the food and wine had long since been consumed, the fires had been extinguished and sleep had taken hold of most of the crew. The brothers lay on some sacks on the decks. The deck and the sacks were damp and they found it hard to sleep with the constant rocking. Their quest for slumber was further hindered by the noise of a sailor near the stern who was humming to himself, the loud snoring of a reed thin man near them which was swinging his hammock in time, and the noise of the rats as they scurried across the deck and gnawed at the scraps.

As the clouds above them parted like curtains to reveal the night’s beauty, Farren turned to Peter and whispered, “So how do you think we catch this ship then?”

“I’m not sure. When I talked with Reeve he mentioned it was heading west. From what I can gather, it seems like we are heading south west.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Well, I took a glance at the compass rose before, and that was our heading. But it means that unless we change direction soon, there will be no way to catch them.”

Farren frowned, “So why don’t we just tell the captain in the morning what happened. You know, ask him to change the course?”

“It won’t work. To start with, this is a merchant ship taking a cargo of fish to another port with, I assume, a tight deadline. So he is unlikely to have time to make a detour. Especially if that detour involves heading towards the one set of people the captain really doesn’t want to see.”

“Well we’ll just have to sabotage the ship or something,” Farren suggested.

“Not that we know how to do that. Besides which, assuming we can somehow get them to head towards the pirate ship, we don’t know for sure that Nanna’s on it, let alone whether she is still alive. Have you thought about what we will do if we somehow manage to catch up?”

“What do you mean?” asked Farren.

“Well there’s only two of us and probably more than twenty of them. How do we get on board? How do we find her? And what use are we to her if we do? We’re not experienced at fighting.”

“Peter, we can deal with that when we get there. This crew would fight.”

“But should they? This is not their fight. And what if she’s dead?” Peter looked worried.

“She’s tough … besides the pirates already want to find us.”

“Yeah I know Farren, that scrap of paper. But having pirates who want to find you is not a good thing. I’m just not sure whether we should call it off.”

“What and leave Nanna to die?” Farren looked shocked.

“She could be dead already.”

“That doesn’t mean she IS dead. It’s worth it to find out. Look at what she’s done for us.”

“Yeh, I know. But I just don’t know how much we can do for her right now,” said Peter.

Silence ensued and, as Farren drifted off to sleep, he was thinking of the exciting battle that may lie ahead. Peter was trying to think of how to change the course of a merchant ship without a crew of twenty finding out, and Aeolus took the longest to find sleep as he digested what he had just heard.

...

“Get up, you lazy slobs!!!”

Farren awoke with a jolt and was hit with the stench of rotten fish. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into the large cavernous maw of the bosun.

“C’mon you!”

There was a sharp pain in his shins as he was kicked violently. He quickly got to his feet.

“You should have used the lodestone ten minutes ago – move it!”

Farren paused for a second and then remembered that the compass had to be remagnetised regularly. He rushed to the front of the helm where he found the binnacle, which was a small cupboard that was attached to the deck. It had an open box sitting on top of it, containing the compass. He opened the cupboard doors and found the lodestone within. Farren rubbed the compass with the lodestone to remagnetise it.

Whilst this was happening, Aeolus and Peter were manning the log and line to work out the ship’s speed. Aeolus glanced around, “Look, I heard you and your brother last night.”

Peter stiffened but remained silent.

“I have a way for you to change the ship’s course.”

There was a pause, “Why would you help us?”

“Well, I got press ganged on this ship just like you.” Peter frowned but didn’t correct him. “Only I have been here for two years now. It’s not bad, but I want adventure. You know, the chance to make some money and have a bit of fun. Let’s face it; I’m hardly going to get rich as a deckhand on a ship full of fish, now am I?”

Peter surveyed Aeolus carefully. He was suspicious about how quickly Aeolus was prepared to betray his crewmates. How did he plan to make money through sabotaging a ship to lead it to a bunch of pirates? But, despite a restless night, he had no ideas himself and no choice but to go along … for now.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked.

“Well it’s actually quite simple really. I’m on the traverse board today and …”

“Hang on,” interrupted Peter, “the traverse board…?”

“Sorry, I forgot you’re only new. The traverse board is a round piece of wood with all the compass points on it, with eight holes going out in each direction. Every half an hour one of the crew, I think it’s Malhair today, tells me our current course and I put a small peg in whichever direction we are going. Then, by looking at the board later, the bosun can work out our course and adjust if he needs to.”

“I see, so you’re thinking of plotting a fake course … If you make the bosun think we were going south, when he wants to go south west, he would then steer the ship west.”

“Exactly! And that course should lead us directly to adventure!”

Peter looked out to sea. Adventure was the last thing he was looking for. Just getting out of this alive would do.

“Ok,” he said, “let’s do it.”

...

Aeolus was true to his word and every half an hour after Malhair came over to announce their south westerly heading, he grabbed a peg and put it in the traverse board to indicate that the ship was in fact heading south. To further enhance their chances of success, Aeolus took Reeve aside.

“Reeve mate, the captain has asked me to get a couple of extra bottles of rum to have for lunch. I’m still on the traverse board – any chance you can go below and get them?”

Reeve dutifully obliged and returned with the alcohol which, as the large fires were being lit, Aeolus surreptitiously placed within sight of the bosun. With a gap-toothed grin, the large man waddled over and began to swig it down in great gulps. Aeolus smiled. Sure enough, later that day when Aeolus showed the bosun the traverse board, the man’s mind, befuddled by spirits, did not think to check the readings and he adjusted the course.

Peter however was becoming increasingly concerned and had managed to corner his brother in the jardines, near the ship’s bow. Luckily there was no one nearby to listen, as he squatted next to his brother over the round holes cut into the deck that led straight to the sea. Farren had finished going to the toilet and was about to pull up his breeches when he was stopped by Peter.

“Just pretend you’re still going. We need to talk. Aeolus has changed the traverse board and the bosun seems to have taken the bait. So we are now heading west at a fair clip. Hopefully that means we will catch up to the pirates at some stage, assuming they were in fact going south west and didn’t change direction themselves.”

“That’s great, so what’s the problem?”

Peter frowned, “I’m still not sure what we can do, even if somehow we manage to catch up.”

Farren snorted, “Look, why do you think we came on this ship? We are here to look for Nanna. What did you think we would do – find her, wave and then go? We owe it to her to try and at least attempt a rescue.”

“What can the two of us do?”

“I don’t know. Swim over, sneak aboard in the confusion. We might get lucky. We can’t just sit idly by as the one person who's done most for us in this world slowly dies,” said Farren.

“I’m not saying we should do nothing. I’m just not sure it is right to risk this crew’s lives – all for one person – and we don’t know if she is alive. Maybe we should give up whilst we have the chance.”

Farren frowned. “Give up? We’ve come this far, we can’t stop now. How will we sleep at night if we later find out that there was something we could have done? We have to at least try – it’s what she would do for us.”

“Ok, we’ll try,” conceded his brother

As he walked off, Peter shuddered as a chill ran up his spine.

...

The man scratched at his scraggly, unkempt beard, pulled out a large flea, crushed it between his fingers and then shoved it into his mouth. He reached down and pulled a small knife from his boot and proceeded to slowly pick at what remained of his teeth. With a grunt, he looked down through the rigging at the deck far below and watched the rest of the crew scurrying around like rodents. Bored, he glanced out towards the sea. He looked again. No. It couldn’t be.

“Ship, captain, I see a ship ahead!”

The cloaked figure on the deck looked up at the crow’s nest and then turned to the bosun.

“Chad, the eyepiece.”

The large bulk of a man grabbed the instrument, which looked like a twig in his oversized hand and handed it to the captain. A rattling sound came from within the cowl.

“He’s right. Renard!”

The Frenchman sidled up beside the captain.

“We can’t afford for our position to be given away, Renard. Prepare for battle.”

Chad grunted. With one hand, he reached over to pick up the flail with its heavy chain ending in a large spiked metal ball, and hoisted it over his shoulder. As he did so, the muscles in his back and arms rippled like waves.

“Get cannons ready!” he bellowed.

Renard smiled.

It had begun.

Chapter 4

The Pirate Meeting

The Nemesis ploughed a path through the water in its relentless pursuit of its victim. The crew of the other ship, realising their fate, frantically rushed around the deck in a futile attempt to prepare for the inevitable. As the Nemesis began to catch up to the merchant vessel, the pirates could see them beginning to load their cannons.

“Renard, raise the colours!” yelled the pirate captain.

The Frenchman hoisted up the pole a red tattered flag that was adorned with a simple black picture of a skeleton. As the ship drew closer, the pirates below deck prepared to light the fuses of the cannons. Above them, the crew stood armed with their favourite choice of weapon, calmly waiting. They watched as the gap between the two ships shrank and saw the portly bosun on the other ship screaming orders at the crew.

The captain of the Nemesis gave the order. Chad turned the wheel and the ship responded. It lined up at an angle with the stern of the merchant vessel. With a pull on the ropes the crew raised the wooden panels that obscured the cannons. They then slowly pushed the heavy weapons forward until they were in position.

The calm of the pirate ship was in contrast to the reaction of their opponents. Yelling.

Screaming.

Running.

Panic rippled across the deck and engulfed the vessel.

The pirate captain smiled. “Fire the cannons!”

BOOM!

BOOM!!

BOOM!!!

The sound resonated through the pirate ship and it rocked to a series of explosions as all of the cannons vomited out their deadly cargo.

There was a small fraction of a second between the firing and the realisation hitting the large bosun’s face. Then he was struck through the eye by a large splinter of the deck that had just shattered around him.

The initial salvo crippled the merchant ship. The Nemesis drew alongside and the pirates began to board their victim. Some swung across on ropes, whilst others simply leapt across the diminishing gap between the two crafts. The sailors attempted to put up a fight with the limited weapons they had, but a couple of quick swings from Chad’s flail put paid to any ideas of continued resistance. Those who met with the bosun’s weapon did not live long to discuss the experience, as three men went flying through the air in one direction, and various grisly body parts that previously belonged to them, flew in another.

At the other end of the deck, Renard calmly set about despatching resisting crew members with a sword in each hand. He used the minimum of effort, a simple thrust here, a slash there and the bodies fell like puppets whose owners had left them. He continued at pace across the deck until he met Chad in the middle.

“Twelve to me. You?”

“I kill ten,” the large man rumbled.

“Well I am still winning, n’est pas?”

“Yeh, I think.”

Renard muttered, “You … thinking? That’ll be the day.”

The few crew remaining huddled together on the deck, shivering with fear. A shadow was cast over them and they looked up to see the cloaked pirate captain.

“Renard, check the hold.”

“Oui, cap’n.” The Frenchman inclined his head and then retreated below. There were a series of bumps and sighs and then he returned, wiping his blades.

“There were four below, but now - none.”

“Right, you know what to do.” And with the cloak billowing behind, the captain jumped across to the pirate vessel. Five of the pirates remained on the deck watching the crew, whilst Chad and Renard went below. There, they rolled the ship’s cannons back and turned them around so they faced inwards, with the fuse poking out over the side. They then retreated upstairs. The five pirates and Chad jumped back onto their ship whilst Renard lit a torch. He climbed up onto the stern and then swung alongside it, lighting the fuses. As the rope reached the bow, he leapt in to the air and landed back with a somersault next to the captain. Chad began to raise the mainsail as they started to move further from the merchants.

“Wait. In the water. There are some youths.” One of the pirates pointed towards two figures desperately swimming. Renard leaned down and pulled two daggers out of his boots and then sent them spinning through the air until they landed with a soft thud in the backs of the two crew members. Their carcasses floated lifelessly in the water.

The captain chuckled mercilessly.

KABOOM!! The merchant vessel exploded into fragments. For this ship the adventure was over.

...

Farren awoke and immediately winced in pain. He struggled to open his eyes at the brightness of the light. He blinked, disorientated. Where was he? He looked at the water around him and then it dawned on him. The merchant vessel! Farren felt his leg, where the bruise from the bosun’s morning wake up calls was an ugly black in colour.

“Debris!”

Farren looked up, but couldn’t see the crow’s nest in the bright sunshine.

“Debris, cap’n.”

He leaned further over the edge and could just make out what looked like chunks of wood in the distance. Clearly another merchant vessel had just met the Nemesis and come out the worse for wear. Farren saw the bodies of two youths with daggers in their backs and shivered. That could have been them.

They were getting closer.

...

Bill Prentor was going to die in fifty-one minutes time. Of course, he did not know this right now though. Currently, he was situated in the crow’s nest of the Nemesis with a smile on his weather-beaten face. He was happy because he had survived another battle. Bill had never really wanted to be a pirate. But he couldn’t really remember a time when he wasn’t one. Sure, he vaguely recalled a life on land as a very young child, but as soon as his face began to sprout hair, he felt that he needed to leave his village to achieve any further growth. So young Bill headed towards the docks and soon found himself aboard a Navy frigate. After five years of relentless brutality and consistently low pay, he jumped ship with dreams of rollicking adventures and wealth in the grand life of piracy. He sighed. Reality was different. Oh, there was treasure all right, but there were few chances to spend it. Instead he was stuck up high in this crow’s nest with the prospect of more mouldy food, and frequent encounters with death. Some adventure!

Bill was now twelve minutes nearer to his own death as he rubbed his eyes.

Surely not!

Some people never learn!

“Captain.” He leaned over the edge and bellowed down at the cloaked figure. “I’ve spotted another ship to the west!”

Bill watched as the captain took out a long spyglass and peered through it.

“Chad, steer a course for it.”

“Yes, Cap’n.”

Thirty two minutes left.

...

It was bedlam on the merchant ship. Farren and Peter were knocked to and fro as the crew rushed around. They overheard the bosun talking to the captain, “Cap’n. The pirates have changed course. There heading right for us. What do you want to do?”

The captain paused and scratched his red beard. “I just don’t understand it. We only have fish on board – why would they want to come for us?”

“The why isn’t important, cap’n. Point is they are coming for us. Clearly they don’t want to come aboard and shake hands. I doubt we can outrun them. We are going almost full speed now. The only way to go faster is to dump the cargo.”

The captain raised his eyebrows. “But that’s two weeks work and wages. The crew wouldn’t stand for it.”

“They may,” the bosun replied, “if they were given the choice of either that or death.”

“They may just have mistaken us for a treasure ship. I’d be surprised though. Could we outrun them even if we dumped all our cargo?” asked the captain.

The bosun sighed, “No, probably not.”

“Well then. Let’s wave a white flag and see what happens. I can’t see that they’ll be keen on a hold full of fish.”

“Yes, cap’n.” The bosun left to shout orders at the crew. The captain stayed at the helm and looked out with a sense of foreboding at the advancing Nemesis.

...

Onboard the pirate ship, Bill was also looking out with a sense of foreboding. This was not because he had any inkling about his impending death, rather, he dreaded these moments. In some deeper place inside him that he rarely acknowledged, he almost felt sorry for the crew of the other ship. Oh, he was more than prepared, in fact, looked forward, to a battle. But against fishmongers? He could see the point of attacking the English or Spanish ships laden with treasure from the New World, because of the obvious ‘treasure’ aspect. But the merchant ships rarely had any cargo that was useful to the pirate crew. It was just their bad luck that they were in the way because the captain did not want anyone knowing of their existence. He shook himself and banished the thoughts from his head. The merchant ship could be seen clearly now. He looked down at the deck below him and saw his crewmates going through the usual pre-battle routines. Their red flag was being hoisted into position as some went below deck to prepare the cannons. Chad was picking up his flail and Renard was calmly sharpening his swords. In amongst all of the bustle on deck the captain stood, a cloaked figure at the helm. Bill shuddered. He always found the captain a bit … odd.

Fourteen minutes left.

Bill watched as the two ships became so close that he could make out the chaos aboard the merchant ship. He could clearly see a white flag being waved. It would be no use. The captain did not want anyone knowing of their existence.

“Bill!”

He looked down. It was Renard.

“Come down ‘ere. You could do with the practice. ‘arry,” the Frenchman gestured to another of the pirates, “you go up the crow’s nest an’ take Bill’s place.”

Bill began to clamber down to the deck. When he finally arrived Renard gave him a sword. Inwardly he sighed – he was getting too old for this. He lined up with the rest of the crew as he heard the pirate captain give the order to fire.

BOOM!

BOOM!!

BOOM!!!

The cannons made short work of the flimsy merchant vessel. Great gaping holes were ripped into the sides of the ship. Bill watched as giant sheets of the deck went flying through the air along with half of the crew.

“Let’s go!” screamed Renard.

Four minutes.

Bill grabbed the rope and swung over the gap between the two ships. He dropped onto the deck and quickly regained his footing on the uneven surface. Instinctively, he ducked as a dagger whizzed past and just missed his head. He drew his sword and stabbed at the nearest crew member, who crumpled into a heap. Bill looked down. The deck was covered in blood. Screams rang out. He watched as Chad swung his giant flail and knocked three men flying through the air. They landed in a pile across the deck and did not move. Renard was whirling around like a dervish – stabbing here, thrusting there, slicing and dicing his way through the crew.

30 seconds.

Bill saw that near him were two youths. Both had a similar look about them – They always seem to get younger, he thought. They were both thin and wiry with wild eyes. One held a sword and the other a crossbow. They were near the edge of the ship. Not really fighting, but watching. They seemed lost in it all. He made his way over.

“Back off,” screamed the one with the crossbow.

“Look boys, just …”

The crossbow fired.

PHMP

Bill felt a sharp pain. He looked down in disbelief at the bolt sticking out of his chest. Bill fell lifeless to the deck.

...

Farren stood in shock, the crossbow still quivering in his hand. The pirate lay on the deck not moving.

“Farren. Farren!!” Peter tugged at his brother. He noticed another pirate over to the left fighting with Reeve, who fell clutching his neck. Farren was still standing there.

“Farren, let’s just go. This is a slaughter.”

Farren turned to his brother. He was shaking badly and tears were running down his face.

“I. I. I killed a man,” he stammered.

“It was him or us – let’s go,” his brother replied.

They both turned and jumped off the ship.

PLSHH!!

The water was cool and enveloped them. They quickly came to the surface. The water was full of bodies and debris. Farren and Peter made their way to a plank of wood and grabbed hold of it.

“Pretend you’re dead,” said Peter.

“What?”

“The pirates might kill us if they think we are alive. We’ve got blood on us – so they may just ignore us.”

They both lay spreadeagled over the wood. Splinters dug into their flesh but they tried to lay as still as possible.

The boys could hear the noise die down on the ship but they daren’t look.

They waited.

BOOM!

Farren winced as he felt pain course through his leg. He risked a glance out of the corner of his eye. There was a jagged piece of wood jutting out from his shin. He fought his instincts to scream.

Peter watched as the merchant vessel was slowly consumed by the sea. He could see the pirate ship waiting. He forced himself to stay still despite his concern for his brother. After what felt like an eternity, the Nemesis began to turn away.

Chapter 5

Stranded

The rain pelted down. Farren’s leg throbbed. The boys desperately clung to the flimsy piece of wood as the sea grew more vicious. The waves reared their liquid heads and crashed down on them. Farren and Peter were winning the battle with the sea to stay afloat, but only just. The ocean was not going to give up without a fight.

It was three hours since the pirate ship had departed and, soon after, the skies had quickly darkened, signalling the start of the storm. They had had no human contact since then, despite hearing the cries and groans from some of the crew from the ill-fated merchant ship. The boys had no way of knowing whether they were the only survivors or not – although they were more concerned with surviving the next few minutes.

As the waves crashed around them, Farren screamed over the wind, “Land! I thought I saw land!”

Before Peter could respond, an almighty large wave smashed into them and they lost their grip on the wood.

The brothers were unconscious as they sank deeper into the sea’s victorious embrace.

...

“KUGH! KUGH!”

The water flowed from Farren’s mouth as he coughed violently over the sand. The wave slopped into his head and went up his nose.

“KUGH!”

He groaned as he dragged his aching body further onto the shore. A small red crab scuttled over into his line of sight and stood there surveying him. He tried to raise his head but his neck was too sore. Slowly Farren forced himself into a sitting position on the shore. He looked down at his leg. It was fairly clean from all of the sea water, but the wood was still clearly embedded in it. He reached over to pull it out and then thought better of it. It wasn’t bleeding now, but it certainly would be if he yanked the wood out. Farren leaned back and took stock of his surroundings.

Ahead of him were a few large boulders, resting in the sand. Behind them was a large swathe of forest. To his left he could see bits of wood, debris and two bodies. He looked right and counted five more bodies. He winced as he tried to stand up. He staggered a little. Farren tried to put weight on his injured leg. It wouldn’t take much. He felt a little dizzy as he began to hobble down the beach towards the right.

“PETER!!” he yelled.

“PETER!!”

He got closer to the first body. He shooed a few seagulls away and then realised that he shouldn’t have bothered. They had been pecking at the eyes of the corpse. Farren couldn’t tell who it was. He slowly made his way to the next body. It was lying face down. He rolled it over. It was Malhair. There was a dagger in his upper chest. Malhair groaned. Farren almost fell over.

“Malhair.”

“Unngh. Farren. I don’t feel so good.”

Farren managed to smile. “Try not to move. I’m surprised you made it.”

“So am I.”

“Look I’ll try and drag you to the boulder over there so at least you’re in the shade.”

So very slowly they hobbled, dragged and slid their way over to the boulder.

Farren turned to Malhair. “Now stay there. I’m going to check for any more survivors.”

Malhair looked at him, “Yeh, like I’m going to be going anywhere.”

Farren limped over towards the three other bodies he had yet to check. One had his neck barely attached to the rest of the body, the other turned out to be only half a body. Farren was beginning to worry as he approached the final body. He hadn’t checked the other side of the beach, but this was not boding well for his brother. As he approached, he knew immediately from the flame red hair that it was Aeolus. He rolled the body over. As far as Farren could tell he was unconscious. He couldn’t see any major injuries, but there would be no way of telling until he awoke.

He slowly dragged Aeolus over to where Malhair was waiting.

“Any sign of your brother?” The concern and pain were obvious on Malhair’s stubbly face.

Farren shook his head. “No, but there were two bodies over that way. I’ll check them. Aeolus is breathing but I don’t know what state he’s in.”

He turned and made his way towards the other side of the beach. As he came closer he saw a man who was barely breathing. He was a mess. One leg was hanging from his body by a little bit of skin. His shirt was in tatters and covered in blood. There was a large sword mark going diagonally across his face. The sand around the man was stained red with his life’s blood. Farren moved closer but he could see that there was little he could do. The man’s eyes were glazed over and his body twitched occasionally.

With a heavy heart, Farren tore himself away and moved towards the last body. Even before he got there, he knew it was Peter. He didn’t know whether it was the shape of his body or the brown hair, he just knew. Farren forced himself to hobble faster. Tears started streaming down his face. “Please let him be ok. Please let him be ok,” he thought.

He arrived at his brother’s body and stood there for a moment – not sure whether he could handle any more. Reluctantly he turned him over. His face was blue. Quickly Farren sat his brother up and started hitting his back. Water poured out of Peter’s mouth.

“KUGH! KUGH!”

Peter’s eyes flickered as great coughs racked his wiry frame.

“Oh God,” he clutched his head.

“Peter, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Where am I?” Peter looked around groggily.

“I don’t know. We are on some island I think. Are you ok?” Farren answered.

“Yeh. I think so. I ache all over and feel sick but I think I’m alright.” Peter looked at his brother. “What about you? How’s the leg?”

“Well I can walk on it, just. It hurts but it’s not too bad. Hey, I found two others alive. Malhair and Aeolus. There’s another guy just over there, but I don’t think he’s going to make it. Malhair’s got a dagger in him, and he’s still going – it must have missed his heart so he’s lucky. Aeolus is unconscious and I’m not sure whether anything else is wrong with him.”

“Anyone else survive?” asked Peter.

Farren shook his head.

The two brothers made their way over to where Malhair and Aeolus were. As they walked they noticed that the sailor, near to where Peter had been, had died.

Peter paused to close the man’s eyes and they walked to the boulder where Malhair and Aeolus were waiting.

Malhair broke into a grin. “Peter, great to see you made it. You alright?”

“Yeh thanks. How are you holding up?”

“Not too bad, considering.”

The sun had begun to set, so Peter, being the most able of the survivors, set about creating some shelter. Figuring it was easier to leave the injured Malhair and Farren, who was utterly exhausted, leaned against the large boulder as it offered some degree of protection, Peter went into the forest. He soon found some large palm fronds and some vines. He tied the fronds together with the vines and then onto the boulder to provide some form of shelter.

It was getting dark now and all three of the conscious men began to struggle with thirst and hunger. It was going to be a long night.

The pain from their injuries and the unusual noises coming from the forest, let alone their hungry stomachs, made sleep hard to find. However, sheer exhaustion eventually claimed their weary, battered bodies.

...

The morning light dappled through the palm fronds. All four young men were now awake, Aeolus having just regained consciousness.

“Right,” said Peter, “I think we need to look at injuries first and then try and find food and water. I was thinking we could pull out the dagger from Malhair, and wood from Farren and then put sap in the wound to close it. We can’t just leave those stuck in there. Aeolus, do you have any injuries?”

“Well, I think I may have snapped a couple of my ribs,” he replied, “but nothing major.”

“I’m not sure.” Malhair frowned. “The wood in Farren’s leg is not so deep – so if you pulled it out and packed the wound with sap his leg may not get infected. But this dagger could be near my heart. I think we leave it.”

“But …,” began Peter.

“It’s his decision,” claimed Farren.

So Peter went off and scoured the beach and, somewhat reluctantly, the bodies. He managed to find a dagger, two empty drinking flasks, a belt, and some nails. He walked to the outskirts of the forest and, using the metal flask, hit the nail into the wood until sap started dribbling out. He wiped it onto the dagger and went over to his crewmates.

Malhair and Aeolus helped to hold Farren down as Peter tied the belt around his brother’s lower leg. Peter had filled one of the drinking flasks with seawater and poured some of it over the wound. He then said, “I’m going to pull it out on three. Ready. One. Two!”

“AAAGHH!” Farren screamed as Peter pulled out the giant splinter of wood. Peter quickly poured the sea water in the wound and wiped the sap into it. He then used some of his tunic, which he had soaked in sea water, to wrap around the wound as a makeshift bandage.

“Thanks,” said Farren, “But you pulled on two!”

“It was Aeolus’ suggestion,” claimed Peter.

“Yeh, it doesn’t hurt as much if you don’t expect it. I heard that from one of the ship’s doctors,” Aeolus said.

“Well, in that case, I would hate to know what it would have felt like if you pulled on three because it REALLY, REALLY hurt on two!” Laughter rang out on the beach for the first time in a while.

“Right,” said Aeolus, “We need to find food and water.”

“Let’s split up,” suggested Farren.

“Well, Aeolus and I are the least injured so maybe we should split up and go with each of you two,” Peter nodded at Farren and Malhair. “I know we have no way of telling time, but we should meet here when the sun is highest in the sky – my guess is about an hour or so.”

So after the supplies were split, Peter and Malhair headed off into the forest towards the left. Farren and Aeolus went in the opposite direction.

...

ZZZZZZ! ZZZZZ!

A large mosquito buzzed overhead. It swooped closer.

PLT!

“Got it,” cried Malhair. “That’s twelve I’ve killed now.”

Peter pushed the overhanging branch out of the way and they continued their slow progress through the forest.

“Wait,” he suddenly stopped. “Do you hear that?”

Malhair paused.

“What, the three million hungry mosquitoes lining up for lunch?”

“No,” Peter replied, “I think I hear water!”

The boys hastened their way towards the trickling sound and it wasn’t long before they came across a small stream. Laughing, they filled the water container and took hefty swigs. After quenching their thirst, they refilled for their colleagues and went about searching for food.

However, they were not the only ones on a quest to fill their stomachs. An enormous reticulated python slowly uncurled its giant bulk high up in the trees and began winding its way down the trunk.

The mottled brown colour of its scales blended perfectly with the tree. It slithered amongst the undergrowth, its tongue flicking out and ‘sniffing’ the air. It had detected food nearby and it was hungry … very hungry.

“Hey, look up there Peter,” Malhair pointed at a nearby tree.

“What is it?”

“That looks like coconuts doesn’t it?” Malhair’s voice trembled with excitement. They ran over towards the tree and searched around the base. Sure enough, they soon found a coconut lying on the ground. Peter started bashing it on a rock.

PHMP!

PHMP!

The python felt the vibrations through the forest floor and quickened its pace.

PHMP!

PHMP!

The snake could sense the body heat of a large meal nearby. It came up slowly behind its victim, slithering silently through the undergrowth. It could sense that there were two creatures near the tree. It paused. The muscles rippled along its body as it raised itself up.

It quickly wrapped itself around the victim’s legs.

SHHMP!

AAAAGGGHH!

The snake sunk its teeth into the creature’s thigh, shredding the flesh. Malhair screamed again in agony. Peter tried to whack the python with his fists, but to no avail. With a twist of its enormous body, it quickly coiled itself around the hapless Malhair and then began to drag him into the forest.

“PETER!” he screamed.

Peter ran. His legs burned. Malhair had stopped screaming. Peter kept running.

PLLP!!

All of a sudden he sank to his waist in the sand. It sucked him down.

“HELP!” he screamed.

He tried to scramble to the edge. The sand only tugged him down faster.

Now it was at his neck.

“HELP!”

He had sunk to his chin. As he struggled, the sand consumed him faster.

“HE..”

The sand flooded into his mouth. He began to choke.

It covered his nose.

He couldn’t breathe.

Then his head was under.

Only his outstretched hand was above the sand.

He could feel his lungs bursting.

Consciousness slipping …

Blackness.

Chapter 6

Is this a Rescue?

Farren ignored the burning fire in his legs and ran as fast as he could hobble. Aeolus sprinted ahead of him and suddenly leapt through the air. A hand grasped Peter’s. It tugged at him. Farren held Aeolus’ legs and pulled as hard as he could, willing his brother to be alright.

SHHLLLPP

Slowly, ever so slowly, the sand reluctantly began to release its prey. Every limb ached as the boys pulled with all their might.

SHHLLPPP

Peter’s lifeless body was gradually wrested from the unforgiving quicksand. Aeolus wacked him on the back. Farren watched as sand poured out of his brother’s mouth.

“BRRUGHH”

Peter vomited.

“HHHHHHUUU!”

He gasped.

Farren held his brother in his arms and wiped the slimy sand off his face. Peter looked up at him.

“I thought I was dead.”

“So did I. Don’t do that to me!” Farren frowned.

“Thanks … again. How did you …?”

“We got back to the boulder and were waiting for you two and then we heard Malhair shouting so we started to run and then you started screaming. What happened? Where’s Malhair?”

“Oh,” said Peter, “It was awful. We found water,” he pointed to the flask, “and even coconuts. But just as we were breaking one open, a giant snake came, bit Malhair and then dragged him away! It was terrifying. I tried to stop it but nothing would work. I chased it and then fell into this quicksand. Oh poor Malhair!” Tears streamed down Peter’s face as he relived the traumatic experience. He got to his feet.

“We’ve got to keep looking for him,” he turned and implored the others.

He started to walk through the jungle but stopped after a short distance, realising that Farren and Aeolus were not following him.

“We can’t just leave him! He could still be alive!”

Farren and Aeolus looked at each other. Farren spoke first, “Peter, I don’t think there’s anything we can do for him. Let him go.”

“What? He’s one of us. You mean he’s survived a pirate attack, a knife in his chest, hours at sea … he’s come this far and we just say, well sorry mate, you’re a goner?” Peter clenched his fists as his voice began to tremble.

“Look, let’s say we wanted to find him. Where do we start? The snake will be pretty well hidden and Malhair is at least unconscious, if not dead already by now. Not to mention that the three of us aren’t really in a fit state to fight a snake, let alone chase one.” Farren replied.

Peter folded his hands across his chest. “So you both come to my rescue but not to Malhair’s?”

“It’s not like that. To start with you were alive and screaming, so we knew where to find you and also Malhair was already severely wounded.”

“Well what if it was me who was taken by the snake?” cried Peter.

Farren looked at his feet and then back up at his brother, “If it was you then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“Because I would already be out there cutting down everything in my path to find you.” Farren turned and started heading back towards the beach. Aeolus followed. Peter stood for a while watching his brother’s retreating back then, with a final glance into the forest, he too headed to shore.

...

After Peter had informed them of the water and coconuts and, of course, the snake, they decided to take the two daggers with them as protection. They all went back with the two empty flasks and after drinking their fill from the stream, filled the containers. Whilst two stayed watch, Peter collected what coconuts he could find. On their return back to shore they began to collect firewood in the hope that somehow they could light it.

After a frustrating hour and a half using all manner of different stones, twigs and swear words, the fire was finally lit. Aeolus smashed the coconuts with a rock and passed them around. When each of the three survivors had one, he raised his in the air. The fire’s reflection flickered in his black eyes as he cleared his throat.

“To our fallen comrades!”

“To our fallen comrades!” Peter and Farren echoed and they all drank the milk.

There was little hilarity around the camp fire that evening. Exhausted, Farren and Aeolus were soon snoring, but Peter tossed and turned. Giant snakes kept attacking him and he could hear Malhair keep asking, “Why did you leave me Peter, why?”

...

The next morning Farren slowly awoke to a strange smell that wafted across his nose. It tugged at his stomach and he quickly sat up.

“Thought that would wake you,” laughed Peter.

“What is that delicious smell?” he asked.

“Unlike SOME people who slept in, Aeolus and I got up early and managed to catch some crabs for breakfast and it looks like they’re just about cooked.” Peter grinned holding up a bright red crab, skewered on a stick.

The crunching sounds of rock against crab shell filled the air.

“Right, so what now?” Farren asked, crab juice dribbling down his chin.

“We need to get off this island, obviously,” replied Aeolus. “If we keep collecting water, coconuts and crabs we can survive for a while.”

“We haven’t fully explored the island though,” suggested Peter

“Yeh, but with that snake still on the loose I don’t know whether that’s such a good idea. I think we should move camp though, those bodies are starting to really stink.” Farren clenched his nose.

“I think it’s time we faced up to the fact that, as much as it horrifies us all, we are going to have to bury them. We owe it to them. It’s the right thing to do,” Peter insisted.

So the boys reluctantly used sticks, daggers and their bare hands at times, to put their comrades to rest.

As the sun slowly faded out into the sea, the three young men stood around the graves drenched in sweat. They bowed their heads as Peter spoke.

“Lord, look after these unlucky souls. But for your grace we too would have joined them on the eternal voyage. Amen.”

Farren was becoming more practiced at lighting the fire. He had finally found two stones that, when hit together with sufficient force, produced a spark.

As it was twilight and they had spent the day digging, the boys had yet to find food. Having previously seen splashing in the water, and being too tired to trudge back into the forest to find coconuts, they decided to try spear fishing.

They each picked up a branch that they had previously sharpened with the daggers and waded out into the ocean until it encircled their waists.

There they stood.

And waited.

And then they saw it.

It started as a mere light in the distance.

But it came closer.

As it did, the boys realised what it was.

A ship.

They yelled. They screamed. They threw everything they could on the fire to make it all the brighter.

And the ship kept coming closer.

Until finally they could see it properly.

It was a British Naval Man-of-War. And to the boys it was beautiful.

It had three masts and sixteen sails. The fore (or bow) was dominated by a large figure of the top half of a woman that was moulded to the ship. Above the waterline, forty two gun ports, arranged in three rows, sat disguising their deadly contents. The three decks (forecastle, quarter deck and poop deck) were a hive of activity and noise. Farren, Peter and Aeolus could see two small rowing boats being lowered over the sides.

Excitedly, the three began to gather their meagre possessions. They were going to be rescued at last! Their horrifying journey was finally at an end.

They rushed out waist deep into the ocean, unable to prevent the smiles from spreading across their faces.

The two rowboats were so close now that they could make out the sailor’s faces and could hear the shouts of the officers.

The boats were dragged onto the shore and the crew disembarked.

“Evening lads, would you like to come with us?” asked the burly, moustached officer.

“Would we? You don’t know how long we’ve been waiting to be rescued. We’re just so grateful …” Aeolus babbled but was cut short by the other officer who held up his hand.

“Save it. Just hop on board,” he said.

Slightly puzzled, the three companions clambered aboard the nearest boat and sat together as they were rowed towards the large battle ship.

As they came closer, they could see other lights in the distance and realised that this was just one of a fleet of ships. The giant man-of-war loomed over them. Aeolus noticed a large basket hanging over the side with a man inside. The torches on deck flickered in the breeze and barely cast enough light to make out his skeletal frame. His sunken eyes gazed lifelessly out to sea.

“What happened to him?” Aeolus asked, pointing at the rotting corpse.

The Lieutenant stared down his nose at Aeolus as if regarding a diseased rodent. He pondered and then, deciding that it would do no harm to answer, he said, “He failed to stay awake when on watch, so we put him in the basket. He was given a mug of ale, a loaf of bread and a knife. So he had to either cut himself loose and be lost at sea, starve to death or kill himself.” He paused. “It took Paul two weeks to die …”

The choppy surf around the waterline of the man of war made it difficult to bring the row boats alongside. But the experience of the sailors showed through and two of them reached out to grab the thick ropes dangling from the ship. They carefully attached them to the small boat and with a yell of “Heave ho!” the little vessel gradually was pulled up from the sucking maw of the sea.

Like Peter, Farren had never been this close to a navy vessel before and he sat in the rowing boat, excitedly observing the weather beaten wood, the muskets and swords held by the crew, the rows of cannon ports and the serious faces of the sailors as they were pulled higher into the air.

Peter however, was not finding the same enjoyment as his brother. There was something he felt that was not quite right here. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but the weapons, the number of crew sent to get them and their less than enthusiastic welcoming was making him feel uneasy.

Aeolus watched the situation warily, like a caged tiger. Having heard the brothers talk of a map, his curiosity was piqued. This could present an opportunity for him to get a look at it for himself and from there, who knows?

Chapter 7

Time to Haul

Admiral Douglas Fairclough was irritated. He stood on the poop deck and looked out at the fleet. With only four ships, it was proving difficult to catch any of the pirates in these waters, let alone the Nemesis. “Two years chasing that wretched ship and all I have to show for it is this bloody grey hair,” he fumed. He glanced over at the three castaways who were just making their way onto the deck. All three wore what he could only describe as rags. Two of them had a similar build, tall and wiry and looked like they could be brothers. The other fellow was odd looking. He had bright red hair, which was not something the Admiral had seen before, let alone his black eyes which were disconcerting. The Admiral was surprised at how young the three looked. “Oh well,” he thought, “Just means they have a lot to learn.” He strolled across the deck to the Lieutenant who saluted him.

“So these are the castaways are they Lieutenant?”

“Sir.”

“Gentlemen, it never fails to astound me that the youth of today are so lazy.”

“What do you mean?” asked Farren.

PAP!

Admiral Douglas slapped Farren across the face … hard.

“And clearly ill-mannered as well.”

Farren fell to the ground clenching his jaw. Peter went to his brother but was restrained by the sailor behind him. Aeolus did not move.

The Admiral moved so close to Peter’s face that he could almost feel the bristles of the man’s beard.

“Perhaps your brother might think twice before so impertinently interrupting an Admiral of His Majesty’s British Navy.” He stared into Peter’s glaring eyes and then turned.

“What was I saying?”

“Ill mannered, lazy youth, sir,” snapped the Lieutenant.

“Oh that’s right. Yes. Young people today have no concept of respect, or of working hard for a living. No sir, they don’t. They are lazy. They dream of getting rich quickly and living a life of decadence. Mmmhmm, that’s right. So instead of choosing the life of a hard working noble servant of His Majesty’s British Navy, what do they do James?”

“I don’t know, sir,” replied the Lieutenant.

The Admiral stopped his pacing in front of the three boys and rounded on the moustached officer.

“What do you mean, you don’t know James? Everyone knows. They choose the life of piracy, of course. Oh how glamorous it must be, sailing the seas in a filthy rat-infested vessel with no sense of order or idea of where your next meal is coming from, let alone when you next will get paid. Oh, but wait, I forgot. The treasure. That’s right. That’s what makes it all worthwhile. Slaughtering and killing honest men to steal and plunder what was rightfully theirs. Mmmhmm.”

“But, sir, we’re not pirates,” Peter tentatively ventured.

POOMP!!

Admiral Douglas’ fist, which had been wildly waving in the air to emphasise his point, went straight into Peter’s stomach. He collapsed to the deck, struggling for breath.

“What do you take me for boy, an idiot? Huh?”

Peter struggled to form words but was so winded he just grunted.

“These waters either contain the British navy, the Spanish,” he spat on the deck, “or pirates. Now you’re clearly not fit specimens to grace His Majesty’s Navy and neither do you speak with a Spanish accent. Everyone knows that merchants don’t sail this far south, so you weren’t shipwrecked. This leads me to believe that you are pirates. What’s more, you were found on a deserted island, and every fool knows that pirates frequently are punished by being cast off on some god-forsaken island. Now, I grow weary of wasting my time with you. James?”

“Sir,” replied the Lieutenant.

“Keelhaul them. But don’t kill them. I need to ask them some questions after they have been softened up.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Admiral Douglas walked off, the Lieutenant turned to the sailors behind the boys and shouted, “Well you heard the Admiral. Tie them up and keel haul them!”

“Sir,” the sailors replied.

There was a long piece of thick rope that was attached to a form of pulley on the lowest mast, or yardarm. One of the sailors grabbed an end of the rope and walked to the fore of the ship and swung it around the front of the matronly figurehead to his compatriot, who caught it and, in this way, they dragged one end under the boat. The other was used to tie Peter’s hands behind his back. The rope then travelled from his hands, through the pulley, under the boat and back to his ankles, which a sailor was currently tying together. Peter looked with wild eyes at the sailor as he tightened the knot.

“Please,” he asked, “what’s happening?”

The sailor looked at him with sympathy. He looked around and lowered his voice.

“Look mate, they’re going to drag you under the ship. Take a really deep breath beforehand.” He paused. “Here,” he picked up a plank of wood and placed it under Peter’s tattered shirt, “this will help.”

He quickly stepped back as the Lieutenant returned.

“Right, let’s get on with it.”

Aeolus and Farren hurriedly looked around to see if they could do something to help, but there were too many eyes watching them and a lot of muskets. Peter was roughly shoved near the edge of the ship. Two sailors went over to the pulley and stood with their back to Peter and started heaving the rope through the pulley. This loosened the rope leading to his wrists, but tugged at his ankles so hard that he fell on the deck, cutting his lip.

The Lieutenant laughed.

“Sea’s that way, lad.”

He picked up Peter and threw him over the edge.

PPLUUSH!

The water smacked his body and he was momentarily disorientated with all of the bubbles. The impact almost knocked all of the air from his lungs. The ropes were temporarily slack but he was in no position to take advantage, his ankles and wrists being too tightly bound. He struggled to see anything.

Suddenly his legs were pulled visciously through the water, his arms and body flapping in their wake. He could see the underbelly of the large man-of-war looming and he could just make out the hundreds of sharp, jagged barnacles that were attached to it before he slammed into the ship.

His body was being ripped along the barnacles. Even with the wood under his tunic, the pain was excruciating and, as he screamed in agony, the water rushed in his mouth. He could feel the flesh being torn from his legs and he tried to lean his head back, but it kept being slammed into the hull. Peter was rapidly running out of breath and he could feel the water starting to rush into his lungs.

PHMP!

His face was smacked into the ship and everything went black.

...

Up on deck Farren and Aeolus watched the sailors heaving on the pulley and tried not to imagine the horrors that Peter must be experiencing. They nervously waited to see whether he would survive.

A couple of sailors were leaning over the edge.

“Here he comes, Lieutenant”

Peter was half dragged, half hauled by the sailors over the edge by his ankles and was dumped on the deck. His face had been mashed to a bloody pulp. His clothes were in tatters. Peter’s chest was scratched but relatively unscathed – the board of wood doing its duty before falling away into the sea. His legs had gouges all over them and he was clearly unconscious.

Farren struggled against the three sailors who were holding him, but to no avail. They did not notice the Admiral stroll over.

“Right, someone take him to the doctor. See if he’ll live. Not that it matters. And hurry up and get this blood mopped off my deck.”

Two sailors lifted Peter’s body and started to carry it away.

“Hold on,” the Admiral called.

He walked over and examined the wounds on the body more closely.

“I say. What’s going on here? James!!”

The Lieutenant rushed over, “Sir?”

“Look at the boy’s chest, by jove. There’s barely a scratch on it.”

“Perhaps he was lucky sir,” James suggested.

“Lucky, my stripes. Someone has helped him. Get me the sailors who tied him.”

The three sailors came forth and stood, heads bowed, in front of the Admiral.

“Right. One of you three helped the boy. Tell me now and I won’t have to punish all three of you. Who was it?” The Admiral paced back and forth, hands behind his back, fuming.

The sailor who assisted Peter meekly put his hand up.

“Mutinous dog!” yelled the Admiral and punched the sailor in the face, who promptly fell to the deck.

The Admiral spun on his heel and walked away from the sailor.

“Hang him from the yardarm. I will not have mutiny on my ship!” he yelled.

He walked over to where Farren and Aeolus were quivering.

“Stand,” he said and both boys jumped to their feet.

“Now all I need from you is the location of your crew, the crew of the Nemesis.”

Farren’s voice trembled as he spoke, “S-sir. I would have told you before. They were heading in a south-westerly direction when we left them.”

The Admiral put his arm around Farren. “Lad, I know you would have,” his voice purred, “but where’s the fun in that?”

“Right. Helmsman.”

“Sir.”

“Set a south-westerly course.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied and began to turn the giant wheel.

“James, why is that scoundrel not swinging from the yardarm yet?”

“I was waiting for you, sir.”

“No need. Just kill him and let’s get on with the day,” the Admiral replied.

One of the sailors guarding the boys piped up. “Sir, what do you want us to do with these two?”

The Admiral stopped. “Well, unless they have anything else useful to give us then I guess they can swing too.”

Farren and Aeolus looked at each other in shock.

The sailors reached for the boys.

“Wait,” Aeolus said.

“The Nemesis was chasing us because we stole a piece of parchment from them. It’s of no use to us but, in your wisdom, you may find a purpose for it.”

Farren looked at Aeolus in horror as the Admiral’s eyes gleamed.

“Parchment you say? Well, let’s see it.”

Farren glared as he reached into the depths of his tunic and removed the parchment. The time spent in the sea had weathered it, but it was still legible. He opened it up and held it out for the Admiral. Aeolus peered as closely as he dared.

The Admiral ripped it from Farren’s hand and voraciously pored over it.

“Hmm, and you stole this you say?”

“Yes,” said Aeolus, “we had been press-ganged onto the ship and I found it.”

The Admiral eyed him. Aeolus stared back unflinchingly.

“You are a canny one. You boys may have a use after all. James, put them to work. But make sure it’s under strict supervision.”

“Yes, sir!” The Lieutenant took the boys away.

The sailor’s lifeless body swung from the yardarm in the breeze.

...

Meanwhile below decks, Peter was dumped unceremoniously on the table by the two sailors who nodded at the man in the room and left, closing the door behind them.

The doctor leant over and began to examine Peter’s wounds. He grabbed great handfuls of salt and poured them over his body. He rolled him over and did the same on the other side. The doctor then picked up a needle and thread and began to close some of the more gaping wounds. Thankfully for Peter, he remained unconscious.

...

Lieutenant James Barnsworth glared at the two boys.

“Look,” he said. “Actually look at him.” He pointed at the sailor’s corpse dangling from the yardarm above them.

“He was a good friend, one of us. And now, thanks to you two, he’s dead. So whilst the Admiral wants you alive, you’ll live. But I’m going to make sure that it will be a living nightmare. Mark my words, soon as either of you step out of line, I’ll slit your throat myself. We clear?”

“Sir,” Farren and Aeolus meekly replied.

“Right then. You two can go and man the bilge pumps and then clean. John.”

A well-built sailor came over.

“Yes, sir.”

“Guard them. If they try anything, kill them.”

“Sir.”

John led the boys towards a set of stairs that were located between two of the cannons. As they went below deck, Farren’s natural curiosity got the better of him.

“What’s that for?” He pointed to where a man was tending a pot above a fire. A large funnel hung above the pot and went into the roof above.

The sailor just looked at him.

“It’s the stove. The smoke goes up the funnel, and out of the ship. Now be quiet or we’ll get in trouble,” Aeolus snapped.

“I was just asking,” Farren said defiantly.

As they moved further through the bowels of the ship, the stench gradually began to deteriorate. There was barely any light to help them find their way through the narrow passages and Farren was overwhelmed by the sheer number of cannons standing idle and people bustling back and forth or simply resting in whatever crevice they could find.

Finally, they reached the lower depths of the ship

The sailor cleared his throat. “Use the buckets to get the water up to the next level and empty them out the porthole. Then you will need to scrub the whole area. Now, I have better things to do than babysit you two, but there are several people upstairs so don’t try anything funny.” With that, he turned and left them.

Farren turned to Aeolus and pushed him. Aeolus staggered back and fell into the murky, putrid water that sloshed around their ankles.

“Why?” Farren yelled, “Why did you betray us?”

Aeolus stayed in the water. “I didn’t Farren. What choice did I have? The Admiral would have killed the two of us and you know it. We were of no use to him. That parchment saved our lives.”

Farren snorted, “Maybe so, but it wasn’t yours to give.”

“Yeh, you’re right. But look, I heard you and your brother talking about it. It didn’t interest me, but if the pirates that the Admiral was chasing were interested in it, then it stood to reason that he would be. And at that stage we needed something to save our skins. I am sorry that it was your parchment, I really am. But aren’t you better off without it? All it seems to do is attract trouble,” Aeolus reasoned.

Farren kicked the water in frustration.

“Look, what you are saying makes sense. But that doesn’t stop me being annoyed,” he said.

“I understand. I would be too. But at least we are alive – and if it wasn’t for that parchment, we wouldn’t be.” Aeolus dragged himself out of the water. “Let’s just get this job done and hope your brother pulls through ok.”

They dragged the large buckets through the water and choked on the stench of rotting food and human waste. They grunted as they hefted the buckets up the stairs and then poured the contents out of the porthole.

“This is going to take forever,” complained Farren as every muscle in his body screamed in protest.

As they lugged the heavy buckets up the stairs, and the foul liquid sloshed all over them, the boys noticed that, although there were sailors bustling about on the lower deck, no one really paid them much attention.

“Do you think we should try and find Peter?” whispered Farren, as they loaded their umpteenth bucket.

“I think we are lucky not to be killed already. We don’t want to push our luck any further than we need to. Besides, even if you found him, what are you going to do? Mount a big escape from a Navy man-of-war and swim past the fleet to freedom?” Aeolus replied.

“No,” Farren flushed, “of course not. I just thought that we’re not being watched much, so should we not take advantage of it?”

“I suppose if we had almost finished, we could have a look around and just say we were looking for the Lieutenant to find out our next orders. If we left now and were caught we don’t really have a good excuse. I reckon we could have this done in the next three hours.”

“Alright, let’s finish it and find Peter.” He saw Aeolus’ look. “Just to check he’s ok,” he reassured him.

Chapter 8

Behind the Door

After four hours of mindless tedium, broken only by the occasional stop to vomit and gasp for air, the boys had managed to remove the majority of the disgusting sludge from the underbelly of the ship.

“Right,” said Farren, “which way do you think we should go?”

“Let’s head back the same way we came down. We should try and look like we belong … you know, act confident,” replied Aeolus.

They climbed up the rickety stairs onto the next level. There were few crewmembers here and it seemed to be used more for storage judging by the number of wooden chests, hessian bags overflowing with stale biscuits and giant kegs filled with vinegar that was supposed to be wine. Aeolus kicked a large rat out of his way and made his way up the staircase to the next level.

Farren’s back was aching from having to stoop for so long to avoid banging his head on the low beams, but the thought of his brother made the pain easier to bare. He walked along the narrow corridor, trying to avoid bumping the hammocks that were swinging in time with the ship. He glanced at some sailors who looked like they were trying to chisel dripping cloth into the ship.

“What are they doing?” he whispered to Aeolus.

“Caulking,” he replied, “The hemp has been soaked in tar and they use the mallet and chisel to close the hole in the wood. The pitch there,” he pointed at a metal bucket that had steam rising from it, “is then used to seal it.”

The sailors continued to work, with barely a glance at the boys. Ahead, they noticed two men slowly stitching a sail

“ … couldn’t work for a privateer, I don’t know,” one said to his companion.

“C’mon John, it’s not that bad,” replied the other.

“Not that bad? Paul, this voyage must be affecting your mind. We get paid less than a fisherman with no chance of extra money, we get a regular taste of the cat whenever the Admiral feels like it, the meat’s ten years old and all the wine’s gone sour already! What’s to like?”

“Well …,” he mused, “the times ashore are great!”

Both men laughed.

“You can say that again.”

Farren and Aeolus walked past them and climbed up the rotting stair boards to the next level. Here they noticed a lot more rooms leading off the main corridor. A cabin boy stopped them.

“Hey. I haven’t seen you two before.”

“Yeh,” said Aeolus, “We were just looking for the Lieutenant for our next orders.”

The cabin boy watched them.

“You’re two of those pirates we picked up off that island, aren’t you?”

Farren smiled. “We’re not pirates mate. We were on a merchant ship that was attacked by pirates. We were shipwrecked and then you guys picked us up.”

The boy looked at them wide-eyed, “Is it true that it was the Nemesis?”

“Yeh,” replied Aeolus, “you’re supposed to be chasing her. Any chance you’ll catch her?”

The boy laughed, “It would take the Spirit to catch that ship.”

Aeolus smiled, “I know what you mean.”

“What’s the Spirit?” Farren asked.

Aeolus looked surprised. “I keep forgetting you’re a landlubber. I thought everyone had heard of it. Legend had it that the Navy built this superfast ship, the Spirit to catch all the pirates and the Spanish treasure galleons, of course.”

“So what happened to it?”

“It’s just a legend, rumour. Just like they say the captain of the Nemesis is a demon with a hole in his chest,” replied Aeolus.

“I heard that he was a woman,” said the cabin boy.

They all laughed. “See,” said Aeolus, “there’s not much to do aboard ship but trade rumours.”

“So do you like working on this ship?” asked Farren. Aeolus rolled his eyes.

The cabin boy lowered his voice, “The Admiral’s a vicious master – he punishes people for doing nothing. Just like your friend. I saw what the Admiral did. It was terrible. Actually, he’s on this level you know.”

“What? Where?” Farren could barely contain his eagerness.

“In the infirmary over there,” the boy pointed four doors down the corridor. “But just be careful because the Admiral’s quarters are just down the end.”

“Thanks,” said Aeolus, “but why are you helping us?”

The cabin boy smiled. “I can tell you’ve never worked for the Navy,” he said and he turned and walked off.

Farren and Aeolus walked up to the infirmary door and immediately were hit by the stench of vinegar and rotting flesh. They reluctantly knocked and a voice within told them to enter.

...

The infirmary was a small cramped room with four cots along the walls. In the centre was a long table which was covered in dark stains. Jagged saws, needles and knives decorated the room. A small cabinet in the wall had jars containing maggots, leeches and what looked like body parts. One of the cots had a sailor lying face down. His back was a mashed up pulp. The doctor was leaning over the other cot. He stood up and turned and the boys realised that the cot contained Peter. They rushed over only to be stopped by the doctor.

“Hold on boys,” the elderly man said, “he’s not fully healed yet, just be gentle.”

They walked over and could barely recognise him. There were large scars over his face and body and he was adorned with large purple and mauve bruises. There were swellings all over him and maggots writhed around some of the larger wounds on his body.

“What are they for?” asked Farren.

“The maggots will help eat the dead flesh and keep the wound clean.”

“Will he be ok?” Aeolus was shocked at the state of Peter’s injuries.

“Your friend’s lucky to be alive – most don’t survive a keel-hauling. But he’s young and strong so he has a good chance. But I doubt he’ll be out of the infirmary before the next two days.” The doctor smiled at the two young men as he walked over to the other sailor. “Which is more than I can say for Patrick here.”

“Why, what happened to him?” Farren tried hard to look away from the man’s horrific injuries.

“The cat, of course. The Admiral was in one of his moods. Patrick’s had a hundred lashes. He’s fighting hard but it’s only a matter of time.” The doctor paused. “Look, you boys are taking a risk coming here. If the Lieutenant or the Admiral found you, you might end up like Patrick here. Your friend will be fine. Wait two days and hopefully he’ll be up and able to move around.”

“Thank you so much,” Farren choked back tears as he shook the doctor’s hand. The boys reluctantly left the infirmary and closed the door behind them.

“”Look, we’ve been pretty lucky so far, maybe we should not press our chances. Perhaps we should just go back to the bilge and avoid getting caught,” suggested Aeolus.

“You’re right. We’ve found what we came for. I’m just so … so happy that he’s ok,” replied Farren as they continued down the corridor. “I was really wor…,” he stopped as Aeolus grabbed his arm and dragged him against the wall.

“Wh..,” Aeolus covered his mouth and signalled for silence. Farren frowned and then he heard it too ... voices up ahead coming from the Admiral’s quarters.

They slowly moved as close as they dared to the large oak panelled door and strained to make out what they were saying.

“ … don’t understand this vendetta against the Nemesis, Admiral.”

“It’s personal, James.”

“But …”

“Look, alright, if you must know, many years ago my best friend was a Navy Lieutenant named Renato. He betrayed me and the Navy in a battle. Turns out he was a traitorous pirate all along. Last I heard he was on the Nem …”

Then the conversation became a bit too muffled for the boys to make out.

“… find it without the other half of the map?” they heard the Lieutenant ask.

“Look, I don’t know James. People have been chasing the treasure from that blasted ship for ages. The map’s pretty useless without the other half. I’d bet your life it’s somewhere on the Nemesis though.”

“But I thought we were supposed to be attacking the blasted Spanish galleons,” suggested the Lieutenant.

“Are you questioning my judgement, lad?”

“No, sir, wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Look, I’ve searched for that ship too long to let it slip from my grasp right now when it’s almost in my hands. Besides, if I find the Nuestra Senora de Atocha, then we’ll have our Spanish treasure without the hassle of slaughtering those pesky Spanish.”

“How far …”

But Farren did not hear the rest of the conversation because Aeolus grabbed his arm and dragged him off. They gradually made their way below deck.

“Did you hear that?” asked Aeolus when they were back in the underbelly of the ship. “It’s a treasure map!”

“Well, half a treasure map,” Farren paused. “Aeolus, I’m not worried about the treasure, it’s my Nanna. She’s stuck on that ship. That’s why we’ve come out all this way. They took her, and I don’t know what to do. Peter’s normally the one who knows what to do.” Farren sat in the sludge with his head between his knees.

Aeolus put his hand on Farren’s shoulder.

“We’ll think of something. At least we are headed in the right direction and we are certainly better equipped than when we first met them. If we catch them, maybe we’ll have a chance to find your Nanna.”

“Amongst other things,” Aeolus thought to himself.

“Thanks,” Farren replied.

“Alright you two,” the Lieutenant stood in the doorway and the moment was lost, “Food.”

...

Up on deck the mood was sombre. The unfortunate sailor who had assisted Peter was still swinging in the breeze above their heads and may have contributed to the lack of merriment. But Farren felt there was something more - a lack of soul, perhaps. They seemed like men whose hope had been beaten out of them. He looked around at the crestfallen faces, listened to the quiet murmuring and sighed. Farren went with Aeolus to get a bowl of liquid with a few pieces of flavourless, two month old salted meat with some wilted vegetables floating around with it. They found a relatively quiet spot away from the crew, sat on the deck and tried to force their food down.

“This is worse than on your ship,” Farren exclaimed.

“Everyone knows that the navy is the worst. Worst food, worst captains, worst pay, worst conditions.”

“So why do people join?”

“Most don’t have a choice. Press-ganged at the docks or a sense of honour and duty to serve their country or a dreamer,” Aeolus smirked.

“But if it’s so bad here why don’t they complain or rebel?” asked Farren.

With a smile Aeolus said, “Ahh, Farren my friend you still have a lot to learn. If you complain then you can see above us what the Admiral does to people who step out of line. As for mutiny, these are men who believe themselves to be honourable. They wouldn’t dream of betraying a captain, let alone an admiral. Why then they would be no better than pirates - chased by the law until your dying day! Now you see why I was on that ship.”

“But Peter told me you helped us because you wanted some adventure and a chance to make money.”

Aeolus’ eyes narrowed, then he smiled, “Of course, who doesn’t? But that doesn’t mean I want to be a pirate. I have my honour too, you know!”

They continued their meal in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

...

The Nemesis silently ploughed through the darkness. Renard knocked softly on the captain’s door and then entered. The room was covered in maps and navigational instruments. The captain’s back was facing the door and, with an outstretched hand, a knife was casually being tossed in the air and caught again. Renard noticed that the captain’s cloak was slightly to one side and he could just make out a hollow indentation low down in the tunic. The captain turned and the view was lost.

“Renard, how may I assist?”

“Captain, it seems we ‘ave a leak and our supplies are running low. We may need to go ashore soon. If I may say, if we ‘adn’t wasted time ‘unting for the map and taking the old woman – we could ‘ave got supplies back in that town.”

“Renard, you of all people should know the importance of the map.”

“But the woman?”

“It’s … personal. Besides, she may prove a useful bargaining tool.”

“The crew voted you captain, I trust you. What about the other ‘alf of the map? ‘Ow do we make sure that we don’t ‘ave another ‘problem’ like Aron?” Renard spat.

“I have safeguarded it. Do not worry Renard. Can we afford to risk not stopping?”

“In short, non.”

The captain leaned over the maps that were strewn over the table.

“There is an island near here. Tell the helmsman to head for it. Then take a small landing party to get what we need. But make it quick.”

“Oui, captain,” Renard swivelled on his heel and exited the room.

The pirate captain stared out the window. This was a frustrating setback to say the least.

Chapter 9

Trapped

The Admiral paced impatiently on the deck. He could sense he was so close to the Nemesis, but they remained tantalisingly out of reach. He knew that one false move, one wrong turn, and they would slip his grasp again. The Admiral smirked. He longed to see the expression on the pirate captain’s face when they met again. This time, the Admiral thought, I’ll finish the job and you won’t be so lucky!

Farren and Aeolus were below, having been told to assist the cook. The kitchen was a small, cramped room beneath the deck. The cook, who was known to the crew as ‘Cookie’, was a wiry thin man with a long beard that was constantly being dipped into whatever food he was concocting. As a result, it contained a history of almost every meal he prepared, was an off-brown colour and had a smell that was indescribable.

“Righ’ boys, let’s get a meal on the way. Farren, peel the potatoes and Aeolus, wash the salt off the meat and cut off any of the really rotten bits,” he said as he madly chopped at a variety of limp vegetables. As it seemed better, albeit only just, than dragging liquid sewage around the ship, the boys got to work.

...

“Ship, sir,” came the call from the crow's nest, “I spot a ship!”

Admiral Douglas Fairclough put the telescope to his eye. He could just make out the vague outline of a ship that was in close proximity to what appeared to be an island. It had to be the Nemesis – it just had to be!

“Right – battle stations NOW! Move it before I keelhaul the lot of you!” he screamed. “James, tell the fleet to spread out. We need to corner that ship. I don’t want anyone escaping this time!”

The sailors bustled around the ship like a disturbed ants’ nest. The bulkheads were hooked up, the officers’ furniture was removed to the hold, the sails were secured whilst safety nets were erected to catch anything, or one, that fell from above. Wet sand was sprinkled on the deck and fire buckets were filled. The gun captains went to the storerooms and collected the rifles. All the sailors began to tie handkerchiefs to their ears to block out the impending noise of the cannons. The doctor, who now only had the still unconscious Peter in the room, began laying out bandages and saws.

Farren and Aeolus looked up in alarm and began to leave the kitchen, but Cookie stopped them.

“Boys, we don’t stop. Your place is not up there.”

Reluctantly they went back to work.

...

Chad and five of the crew were in a rowboat making their way to the island. Aboard the Nemesis, Renard was looking through the spyglass.

“Captain, it looks like the navy fleet is coming.”

“Hmmm, Chad is too close to the island and too important. I think it looks like we have no choice. We can’t defeat four navy man-o-wars.”

There was silence as the captain thought.

“If we can’t outfight them, we can definitely out think them. Renard, get the oil. It’s time.”

“Oui, captain.”

A large barrel of oil was brought from below deck. A group of sailors hefted it over the edge and tipped the contents into the water. Renard then turned the large wheel and the Nemesis moved closer to the island.

The crew primed the cannons and grabbed their weapons. They moved swiftly and methodically, each man aware of his role.

Renard smiled as he watched the crew. They worked as a team, their camaraderie forged by their time at sea. But, he pondered, for the most part, these were outcasts. They did not fit in to the Navy’s rigid dictatorship. Nor was the repetitive drudgery of merchant life for them. This was the life that had chosen them, for better or for worse. Even I, he thought, would not be here if it were not for my fellow countrymen. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his sabre.

...

The row boat slid ashore. Chad and the five crew members hopped out of the small craft and dragged it a short way up the beach. Although he was not blessed with the most nimble of minds, Chad had seen the navy fleet and had realised the urgency of his mission. He grabbed the large axe out of the boat and began marching across the beach. He turned back to his comrades, who were trailing in his wake, “I get wood, you get food. Be quick.”

As Chad swung his axe in a devastating arc, the trunk of the tree shattered into splinters and it fell to the ground. He picked it up as if it were a twig and carried it back across the beach. The five sailors quickly discovered coconuts and a supply of fresh water. However, they were not the only ones making new discoveries. A large python, not content with its earlier meal, was lurking nearby. Its tongue flicked out and caught the scent of the nearby men. It quickly slithered through the undergrowth towards its next prey. Closer and closer it got. It detected the heat from a nearby creature and raised its head to strike.

“Oh my god!” screamed one of the sailors as it spotted the enormous snake poised to strike.

Chad started to run. He had surprising speed for a man of his size.

The snake opened its mouth. The curved teeth glistened in the sun. It leapt….

Chad threw the axe.

It spun through the air.

The pirate began to turn in horror.

The snake could almost taste the warm flesh.

And then …

The axe quivered in the sand.

The snake’s teeth dragged down the man’s leg.

He screamed in pain.

… blackness.

...

The Admiral smiled. He always thought that the pirate captain was a complete buffoon and here was the proof. Facing four of His Majesty’s finest, surely you would make a run for it? But no. This captain, if it was possible to still use that term, heads straight for the island! Douglas Fairclough was not normally a gambling man, but at that moment, he would put a hefty wager that, this time, there was no way out for his previously elusive quarry.

...

The other four sailors stared at Chad.

“Move,” he grunted. “We in hurry.”

He walked over to the axe and picked it up.

Chad wiped the blood off on the sand, and with barely a glance at the two halves of the enormous snake, turned and made his way back to the beach.

The pirate, who had faced numerous terrors and close calls in his time, shook and quivered as the blood slowly dripped down his leg.

“That was too close,” he thought.

...

The Navy man of war bore down on the Nemesis as it hugged the island shore. The pirates could see three other ships. Two were making their way around the island in an attempt to cut off their escape and the other only just trailed in the closest ship’s wake. The Nemesis hugged as close as possible to the island, in a desperate attempt to rendezvous with the much needed supplies.

...

Chad looked at the rowboat, laden with tree trunks, coconuts and water. He realised that it would not take them all. So two of the pirates clambered aboard and Chad and the other three crew members pushed the row boat out into the water. The Nemesis was not far off the shore but they all could see that the Navy ship was closing fast. Chad hoped that the captain had a plan because this did not look good.

...

Admiral Douglas Fairclough watched as the ship ahead of him steadily gained on the Nemesis. The pirate vessel was staying close to the shore, so he had ordered the other two man of wars to approach the island from the other side. For the first time in many years he was feeling a little nervous. It all seemed too … easy.

He approached the helmsman.

“Steer a wide course around the island so as to block off any escape,” he said in a low voice.

“Yes, Admiral,” the man replied.

...

Below deck, Farren and Aeolus had managed to escape the kitchen, through the excuse of the desperate need for a toilet break. There was a guard at the top of the stairs leading to the deck so, disappointed, they found a porthole near the cannons. From there, they could make out the other Navy man of war that was bearing down on the Nemesis. Behind the two ships, they could make out the shape of an island.

...

The rowing boat was almost at the Nemesis. Renard could see clearly the man of war bearing down on them, and another behind it which was angling out to block a retreat. He knew that time was running out, since he had seen the other two man of wars make their way around the island some time ago. “This is going to be tight,” he thought. The captain arrived at his side and looked out at the approaching rowboat.

“Aaghh,” the captain cried in frustration, “Trust Chad to stay back. Renard, Chad is too important. We have to wait.”

“I am sorry Captain, we cannot do that. You know as well as I do that the Navy will be upon us before then. We must get away.”

The pirate captain stood on the deck fuming.

“Let’s enlighten them first. It may give us the time we need.”

Renard walked over to the side of the deck and saw the navy readying for battle. He looked carefully at the position of the man of war. He waited a short while and then he calmly picked up a bow and three arrows, with cloth wrapped around their tips. Then, using a nearby torch, he set them alight. He pulled the bow taught and then released.

The flaming arrows flew through the air …

...

On board the Navy man of war the captain was screaming at the crew who were staring at him.

“C’mon you lazy dogs! Get those cannons ready! We finally have them right where we want them!”

The captain was slightly puzzled to see that the crew was still staring at him open mouthed. “I don’t believe it,” he thought, “I’m going to have to flog the whole crew.”

He then turned, as if in slow motion, and saw the flaming arrows flying towards the ship.

He laughed.

“A couple of arrows. Please. We are too far away for them to hit us. Now BACK TO WORK!”

PLLSH

The flaming bundle hit the ocean…

FOOMP

… and immediately ignited the oil that sloshed around, creating a wall of fire that rushed towards the ship.

The captain stared gaping as the inferno raced towards the ship.

“oh,” he said in a small voice.

BOOOM!

The fire ignited the stores of gunpowder on the ship and, with a deafening roar, it exploded into a million fragments.

...

The Admiral watched in horror as the ship, and his hopes, were instantly destroyed.

PHHRIK

“Aagh!” The Admiral yelled as a splinter lodged in his cheek. He ducked as shrapnel bombarded the vessel.

PHHMP! PHHMP! PHHMP!

It grew quiet and he slowly stood up and surveyed the damage.

Jagged bits of wood were embedded in the deck, masts and crew. Blood began to pool as it spurted out of some of the unluckier crew members. Some of the bodies began to twitch.

He went over to James, who had a piece of wood lodged into his arm.

“James, we have to catch that ship!”

“Sir,” he grimaced.

He turned to the Nemesis. It still appeared anchored. He saw a row boat just leave the pirate ship. The Admiral looked over at the island and noticed that there were still three of the pirates left behind.

He raced towards the helm, jumping over the more injured crew.

“James, head towards the island.”

“Sorry, sir?” the Lieutenant asked.

“Cut them off. We need to cut off those pirates on the island.”

“But then the Nemesis can escape, sir!”

“You fool, James. The crew they have left on that island must be important. Why else would they stay anchored and wait for them. We need those men. Hopefully the other two man of wars will be coming around soon.” The Admiral was agitated, “And get the portholes open. We are almost in range for the cannons.”

“Yes, sir.”

...

Farren and Aeolus slowly got to their feet after the devastating impact. The guard lay at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck and a forest of shrapnel in his back. They cautiously started to make their way up the stairs, only to be stopped by Cookie.

“Where you going lads?”

“We want to help fight the Nemesis.” Farren’s eyes glistened.

The cook eyed them suspiciously. “Well, we’re quite a few men down. I can’t see that it’d hurt. Aye, alright. Just stick with me.”

He walked them to the end of the corridor and opened a door.

Farren and Aeolus glanced into a room stocked to the brim with weapons.

Cookie grabbed two swords and handed them to the boys.

“Do you have any crossbows?” Farren asked.

“Crossbows? We’re not game hunting you know. We have rifles.”

“Yeh, but I’m faster with the bow,” Farren insisted.

Cookie rummaged through the weapons and emerged with a dusty crossbow and a handful of bolts.

“Best I can do, lad,” he said.

He grabbed twelve knives and tucked them into his apron.

The three men made their way onto the deck.

...

Although Renard was pleased to see the man of war destroyed, he knew that they were not out of it yet. The row boat was being paddled furiously towards Chad and the other pirates still on the island. But the Navy flagship was clearly only minutes from firing its cannons. Not only that, he could just make out the other two ships slowly coming around the other end of the island.

“Captain, what do you want to do?”

“Let’s attack the flagship.”

“Quoi? What are you talking about?” Renard was clearly shocked.

“We need to give Chad more time. They will not suspect a quick attack and we can then try and grab Chad and escape. If we sail at them head on and then turn at the last moment, we’ll have our best chance of avoiding their cannons.”

“Hmm. It’s dangerous, but ‘ey, why not?” Renard grinned.

...

Farren and Aeolus stood for a while on the deck, open mouthed. As they were below deck during the explosion, they did not fully understand the extent of the destruction, until now. The crew were busy arming themselves and the boys could see the Admiral at the helm looking out at the Nemesis which was rapidly closing in. The deck was awash with blood and bodies. Shards of wood were embedded in everything, and everyone. Several of the large sails had tears through them, and they noted that a number of the crew were carrying injuries. The boys looked at each other. This was not looking good.

“Climb,” said Aeolus.

“What?”

“We need to get on the Nemesis, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Farren replied hesitantly.

“So we need to climb up there,” Aeolus pointed up at one of the sails, “and swing across on the rope when they attack. Hopefully in the confusion we can find what we are looking for.”

The boys started to climb.

...

James turned to the Admiral.

“Sir, they are sailing right for us.”

“James I can see that ol’ boy. I’m not an idiot.”

“I wasn’t sayi ..”

“Their obviously planning to attack. Fire the cannons anyway. Ready the men for battle. And James …”

“Sir?” the Lieutenant replied.

“… leave the captain for me.”

...

The pirate captain’s cloak billowed in the breeze, one hand on the rope and both eyes staring at the Admiral.

The crew stood, weapons poised.

The Nemesis drew closer.

BOOM!

BOOM!

The Navy cannons spurted out their deadly cargo which whizzed past the Nemesis, as it continued to bear down on the man of war.

“Ready!” yelled the captain.

“RRAAARR!” yelled the pirates.

“Attack!”

The pirates grabbed their ropes and leapt into the void between the two ships.

Chapter 10

Discovery

Sam had always believed in what the Navy stood for, until he joined up that is. It was not the fine, moral bastion of all that was right and good in the world, as he had once thought. It was cruel, corrupt, and every bit as immoral as the causes it fought against. Yet Sam had stayed. He wasn’t sure if it was through a sense of honour, or a misguided belief that things would improve, or if it was just too much of an effort to change. He was regretting that decision though, as he saw the Nemesis draw closer and closer and heard the blood curdling cry of the pirates. He turned to the sailor next to him.

“This is really it then? The Nemesis, I mean?” he gulped.

“Oh it’s the Nemesis alright.” He looked at Sam, “Look don’t worry, they’re only human. Well, most of them…”

...

PMP!

PMP!

PMP!

The pirates flew through the air as the navy crew unloaded their muskets. Several pirates dropped into the sea and a watery grave.

Farren and Aeolus took their chance and leapt across the chasm.

The Nemesis loomed closer and closer.

“Now!” yelled Farren and they let go of the ropes and, for one agonising moment Farren though they would hit the side of the ship, before they scraped over the side and crashed onto the deck of the Nemesis.

...

BMMP

The pirates landed on the deck. The Navy crew took a step back. The Admiral walked down onto the deck. Renard unsheathed his sword. There was a moment’s silence, both sides waiting… waiting, as if assessing each other. The pirate captain stepped forward, and slowly removed the hood.

The Navy crew gasped. Admiral Douglas Fairclough smiled.

The pirate captain was … a woman!

Her blonde hair was tied back and a livid scar was gouged across the side of her face. Her eyes were fiery and glared at the Admiral. The cloak she was wearing was open now, revealing her tunic, which she had tied around her waist. The crew could see a large gaping, jagged hole that had been gouged out of her left side. A round metal object jutted up in the hole, out of her hip, like a column that was preventing her body from leaning over.

“What the devil …,” said Sam.

The sailor next to him whispered, “That must be Mara, the pirate queen.”

“But ..,” Sam was lost for words.

“She was attacked by a shark. Rumour has it that it took not only her flesh, but her heart and soul on that day.”

Sam had no more time to take in the horror of the situation as they all quickly discarded their muskets, grabbed their swords and charged.

The pirates thrust and hacked with their swords. Renard calmly dispatched the already injured crew, with an expressionless face. The Admiral and the Pirate Queen walked through the melee oblivious to everything but each other.

Cookie saw the Pirate Queen advancing on the Admiral and grabbed one of his knives and threw it.

It whistled as it spun through the air towards the Captain’s neck.

She ducked instinctively and it flew harmlessly out to sea.

Soon they were face to face.

The Admiral was the first to speak, “It’s been a while, Mara.” He looked her up and down. “You look well … considering.”

She looked at him coldly. “Douglas, it was never a pleasure. You don’t seem surprised that I survived your betrayal.”

The Admiral shrugged, “You weren’t the one I was trying to kill. Unlike now, of course, where I will derive great pleasure in slaughtering you and your crew. “Or,” he paused, “I might let you live … as my pet.”

Mara drew out her two swords and the Admiral raised his.

This was personal.

...

Farren and Aeolus got to their feet. There was only a skeleton crew on board the Nemesis, but they raised their weapons anyway. They glanced back at the man of war and saw the furious fighting on the deck.

Farren stopped. “The pirate captain’s a woman!” he said incredulously.

Aeolus dragged him towards the stairs in the middle of the deck. “I know. Let’s go, we don’t have much time.”

Farren stood his ground. “What do you mean, you know?”

“Look I suspected. Everyone’s heard the rumours that the captain of the Nemesis was a woman. Now unless you want to talk to her yourself, let’s go!”

Two pirates emerged from the stairs and were startled to see the youths beginning their descent. Farren fired his crossbow and the bolt embedded itself in the forehead of the nearest man. Aeolus threw his sword and the other pirate fell to the ground with it sticking out of his chest. Both young men were breathing hard. Farren loaded another bolt and Aeolus retrieved his sword.

They cautiously continued down the stairs, stepping over the bodies of the two men. The corridor stretched in two directions.

“Let’s split up,” suggested Aeolus, “We don’t have much time to find what we are looking for. Just don’t be long. The crew will return soon.”

Farren agreed and went left down the corridor.

Aeolus watched him go and then rushed purposefully down the right hand corridor. He passed several doors until he came to a large oak door.

“Hey, you!”

Aeolus turned to see a pirate rushing towards him, drawing his sword. He quickly threw his sword … and missed.

The pirate advanced on him and swung. Aeolus ducked and dropped to the ground. He thrust his foot up and kicked the pirate between the legs. He cried out in pain and dropped his sword. Aeolus retrieved it and promptly stabbed the stricken man in the chest.

He turned back to the door and opened it. Inside were the captain’s quarters. Aeolus moved about frantically. He needed to find the other half of the map. But he couldn’t see any sign of it. Where would she keep it? He clenched his fists in frustration.

...

The Admiral was surprised at the ferocity of Mara’s attacks. He was sweating profusely with the effort of combating two swords, let alone her cloak, which kept swirling around and concealing her attacks.

He thrust.

She parried.

The Admiral slowly felt himself being forced back in the onslaught.

...

Farren kept walking down the narrow corridors, his bow raised. He was thankful that his quick reactions had already allowed him the first shot against the last two pirates he had encountered since leaving Aeolus.

“Nanna,” he whispered as loud as he dared.

Another pirate opened the door behind him.

He swivelled and fired, hitting the man in the arm.

Farren rushed and punched him in the jaw.

The man fell to the ground.

Farren shook his fist. That really hurt!

He was about to go when he heard a low groan from a nearby room. He quickly reloaded his bow. Farren cautiously approached the door and then quickly opened it, bow at the ready.

He gasped at the sight before him.

...

Renard watched the swords whirling in Mara’s practised hands. She had learned quickly, he’d give her that. He glanced back at the Nemesis and saw that the other two man of wars were sailing quickly down the beach. They would be in firing range very soon. Too soon. He ducked a clumsy sword swing and sliced off the man’s arm.

“Captain,” he yelled, “We ‘ave no time!”

Mara did not stop her assault. The Admiral leaned back as the sword whistled past his nose. He grimaced as the second sword emerged from the swirling cloak and nicked his side. He yelled, “Now! Shoot!” and from the upper deck two sailors stood up and aimed their muskets.

PMP!

PMP!

One pirate dived in front of Mara and caught the bullet square in the chest and fell to the ground. The second bullet hit her in the arm. Her sword clattered to the deck. The Admiral saw his chance and raised his sword.

Renard heard the shots and saw the danger his captain was in. As the Admiral raised his sword, Renard threw his dagger.

WHW

It flew through the air…

The Admiral’s sword came down.

...

Farren blanched at the smell of the rotting corpse in the corner of the room. Chains connected the congealed flesh to the wall and three rats obscured its face. In the other corner, was Nanna.

She too was manacled to the wall and was slumped to one side, groaning quietly. Farren rushed over to her. She was a pale shadow of the lively woman who had raised him. Her face was sunken and hollow and her matted hair hung over her face. Her soulless eyes looked up at him.

Tears streamed down his face, “Oh Nanna.”

“Farren,” she croaked. Her shaking hand caressed his face. “Farren, the captain, she ....”

“Shh Nanna, it’s ok. I know about the captain. We have to get you out of here.” He attempted to lift her but then remembered the shackles that held her.

“No, the captain’s …”

But just then two pirates came in the door. Their initial shock gave Farren enough time to recover and fire his crossbow. The bolt lodged in the pirate’s neck and he fell to the floor gurgling. The other pirate fired his flintlock as Farren rushed him. He jumped at the sailor and was a whirling dervish of fists and rage. Despite his initial surprise, the superior strength of the pirate allowed him to begin to gain the upper hand. Soon, Farren was lying on the ground, the man’s knees on his chest. The pirate grabbed the dagger from inside his boot and raised it above his head …

...

Renard watched the dagger as it flew right at Mara … and through the hole in her side.

The Admiral grunted as the dagger sliced into him.

His sword clattered on deck as he clutched the wound.

BOOM!!

BOOM!!

The two man of wars were closing in on the Nemesis and had started to fire their cannons.

Renard rushed over and grabbed Mara.

They started to run towards the edge of the man of war. The remaining pirates turned, grabbed their ropes, and began to leap back.

...

The pirate stared at Farren, with his sword raised.

A trickle of blood came out of his mouth. He fell forward, a sword protruding from his back. Aeolus stood behind him. “C’mon,” he said.

Farren turned to his Nanna, but she was still, the pirate’s bullet having done its work.

Sobs wracked Farren’s body. Aeolus half dragged him from the room.

“We have to go. Those cannons mean the navy is almost here which means the pirates will be back any moment.”

They ran up the stairs, just as the pirates started to swing back. Aeolus pushed Farren over the edge and then jumped in himself.

...

Admiral Douglas Fairclough roughly pushed the sailor who was trying to tend his wound away.

“Just a scratch, boy. Why are we not firing on that blasted ship?!” he yelled, “James!”

The Admiral surveyed the ragtag crew that had survived. His casualties had been horrendous. Bodies littered the deck. “If it wasn’t for that shrapnel …” he fumed.

...

Captain Mara was also furious.

“Captain, we must leave ‘im,” Renard insisted.

BOOM!!

The deck shook as the cannonball hit the Nemesis.

Mara could see the rowboat containing Chad and the remaining crew battling furiously to get to the Nemesis, but she knew they could wait no longer.

“Let’s go,” she said.

The sails unfurled and the Nemesis began to move out of the deadly crossfire.

Mara watched forlorn, as Chad began to draw further away.

The three remaining men of wars had neither the turning capacity nor the speed to match the Nemesis and it soon increased its distance from the island. However Mara did not feel victorious as she stood on the deck, her cloak unfurling in the light breeze.

Chapter 11

Where to go?

Peter’s eyes flickered. He groaned. His whole body throbbed with a dull ache. Everything felt stiff and his face was tight and puffy. Peter struggled to open his inflamed eyes and blinked furiously, unaccustomed to even the faint light from the candle. The pain was excruciating. As his eyes adjusted, he surveyed the room. There was blood on the walls, everywhere. People were groaning and screaming. He saw bits of wood sticking out of some men, stab wounds, and missing limbs. The stench of decay permeated the room. Peter saw the doctor sawing a leg off a screaming sailor. He struggled to take it all in. But shortly a smile crossed his face. “I’m alive,” he thought, “I’m in a living nightmare, but I’m alive!”

...

Farren and Aeolus watched the Nemesis sail off swiftly into the distance. They continued to tread water in the large shadows of the three man of wars.

“We should turn ourselves in,” suggested Aeolus.

“What?” Farren was flabbergasted, “We’re finally free – let’s just swim for the island and make the best of it.”

“Farren, it’s not going to work,” sighed Aeolus, “to start with, the Navy will see us swimming for the island and are bound to kill us. Even if we somehow get past three man of wars – who’s to say how long we could last on that island before help may or may not come. Besides, I have a plan.”

“Frankly, Aeolus, I don’t care.”

“Look, if we turn ourselves in and explain how we killed those pirates – we could be heroes!”

“Look, Aeolus, I’m sorry, but I’m beyond caring. I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

“I understand,” he replied and they began to swim towards the nearest man of war.

...

Chad was furious. Having been elated at the destruction of the Navy ship, he watched in horror as, with only minutes left before he got back, the Nemesis pulled away. He understood. But it didn’t mean he had to like it. Now he and the rest of the crew were frantically rowing towards the island in a futile attempt to escape. Chad was not afraid of being caught … he was only afraid of what they might discover.

...

The water dripped on the deck from the boys’ drenched and tattered clothes. The Admiral strolled towards them.

“So,” he began, “back just in time for another keelhaul, hey?” He smirked at his own joke.

“Sir, during the battle Farren and I went to the Nemesis and killed as many of those blasted pirates as we could,” insisted Aeolus. Tears still streamed down Farren’s face.

“Hungh,” the Admiral grunted in surprise, “which was how many?”

“Seven.”

Cookie piped up, “It’s true sir. After the attack on the Guardian, they volunteered to fight. Next thing I know the two of ‘em leap over there, kill two pirates and go below decks lookin’ for more!”

There was a pause as the Admiral seemed to chew it over and digest this turn of events.

Farren and Aeolus nervously waited.

“Well boys,” he finally began, “as you can see I’m a little short staffed. See Lieutenant James later and he will give you a detail.”

“Thank you sir,” they both replied and scurried off in relief.

Admiral Douglas beckoned James over.

He lowered his voice, “I still don’t trust those two, James. Just keep an eye on them. We could do with the manpower for now. When we get to the next port we can either kill them or let them go – depending on how I feel on the day.”

“Yes, sir,” James replied.

“Now,” he smacked his hands together, “have we caught that blasted row boat yet?”

“We are still chasing them sir. They have nowhere to go but the island and each of the three man of wars have sent out capture parties, in case they try and make a break for it.”

“Dagnabbit! Hurry up and get on with it. I don’t want them getting away,” the Admiral started to leave and then paused and turned back, “and don’t kill them. I need them alive ... for now.”

...

Chad and the small crew paddled hard and the boat ran aground on the beach. They leapt ashore.

“Spread out,” the large man grunted as he ran across the beach towards the forest. The other crew members followed and then ran in different directions trying to find a place to avoid the Navy in a lethal game of hide and seek.

The sailors calmly made their way along the beach and fanned out. There was no rush. It was only a matter of time.

...

“Sir,” Lieutenant James Barnsworth approached the Admiral, “We’ve had the damage assessed and it’s not looking good. We are taking on a fair bit of water, we need a lot more medical supplies and we are down to about half capacity in manpower.”

“Well, by jove, let’s just stay here a bit longer and stock up,” replied the Admiral.

“We could get some wood and perhaps replenish our food and water here, but medical supplies and men are critical – we have to get to a port urgently sir. We can’t afford to stay here any more than is absolutely necessary. According to the charts, we are not far out from the New World, although it presents a risk, given that all the ports around here will be controlled by the Spanish.”

The Admiral hit the side with his fist, “Blast and brimfire! In that case, let’s hope those buffoons hurry up and catch their quarry very quickly. Lieutenant, prepare the ships to launch as soon as they return. Mara managed to escape my clutches just when I was finally going to kill her … I don’t want the same happening again.”

James averted his eyes, “Yes, sir.”

...

Chad was not concerned with what happened to the other three pirates on the island – their fate was not as important. The leaves crunched underfoot as the behemoth sprinted through the jungle. He found a large tree and raised his sword above his head and then thrust it into its belly. Thick sap oozed from within. Chad ripped the sword further into the tree and soon the sap was gushing out. He then turned his back to the tree and lay in the sap. Pretty soon it coated his whole back in a sticky brown layer. Satisfied, he got up and began to look around. He spied a large boulder in the distance which had a lot of foliage in front of it. Chad made his way over to it and kneeled down to wait. He checked his weapons - he had his sword which was now covered in sap, and three daggers. As he sat to wait for his pursuers he snapped off a branch and began to sharpen it.

...

Mara went over it again and again in her mind. She replayed the fight with the Admiral, the sharpshooters, the rescue by Renard, trying to work out where she went wrong. “The Admiral should be dead, and Chad should be here, by my side,” she thought, “instead we are running away with our tail between our legs. Fairclough is still smirking – the traitorous wretch and Chad – it surely is only a matter of time before he falls to the enemy. Why did I use him? I should never have made a copy.” She touched the metal pole in her side as she thought.

A crew member approached her. “Captain, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

“What now?” she asked.

“When we attacked the Juggernaut, they must have sent some Navy men over onto our ship. Seven of the crew are dead.”

“What!!” she slammed her fist on the side of the ship.

“Er, that’s not all. They killed the old woman, too. I’m sorry captain; I know you had sailed with her.”

Mara’s face fell. She turned back to face the sea and took a deep breath. “That will be all. Dispose of the bodies. Continue on towards the New World. We know the treasure is around there and that is what we need to be focussed on right now. The Navy will not be far behind.”

“Yes, captain.”

For the first time since her near fatal encounter with the shark, tears streamed down the pirate captain’s cheeks.

“Of all people, her betrayal hurts most of all, and now she’s gone.” Mara stood on the deck thinking of what might have been.

...

Peter was itching to leave the infirmary and find out what was happening, but the doctor had refused. His injuries had yet to fully heal and the large scabs all over his body made movement difficult in any case.

So when Farren and Aeolus came in, the smile almost cracked the scars on his face. However his elation at finally seeing them was short lived. The sight of Farren’s red eyes and tear stained cheeks hit him in the stomach. He could barely bring himself to ask.

Farren looked at his brother and the tears welled up again, “Nanna’s gone.” He fell into his brother’s arms and the two sobbed uncontrollably. Aeolus stood by awkwardly, not sure what to do.

...

There was a rustling nearby in the undergrowth. Chad’s hand curled around the sharpened stake. Two navy sailors came into view, both holding muskets. Chad waited, hoping they would pass him by. They walked closer to where he lay hidden. One of them stopped and looked over in his direction.

He pointed, “What’s that over there?”

Both sailors raised their muskets and began to advance. Chad had no choice. With a roar he leapt from his hiding place and immediately threw two of the daggers. One missed but the other embedded itself in the sailor’s stomach and he fell screaming to the ground. The other Navy man raised his musket and fired.

PHHHUU!

The bullet whistled through the undergrowth and hit Chad in the leg.

“UGGH!” Chad grunted, picked up the sword and advanced on the sailor. The Navy man fumbled with the musket and the giant pirate rushed up and with one swing beheaded him. The headless corpse fell to the ground. Chad looked down at the shocked expression on the sailor’s face.

“Over here!” He could hear the Navy search crews yelling and closing in. They must have heard the musket shot. Chad started to run as best he could, blood pouring from his leg. He ran blindly, the forest tearing at his clothes and limbs. He saw two more sailors in the distance who, having heard the noise of his approach, began running towards him.

PHHUU!

The crack of the musket firing ricocheted through the air. Chad changed direction … only to find more Navy men approaching, muskets raised. Six sailors slowly walked towards him.

“I kill all,” he rumbled, sword raised.

“That won’t be necessary,” said a sailor to his left who fired his musket.

PHHUU!

The bullet hit its target.

...

Farren and Aeolus began to tell Peter what he had missed since his horrendous keelhauling. Aeolus did most of the talking since Farren was still too emotional to be coherent. Peter listened in shock, unable to take it all in: the loss of the parchment to the Admiral, scrubbing the hull, the lost treasure of Nuestra Señora de Atocha, working for Cookie, the destruction of the Guardian, the attack on the Nemesis, the pirate captain being a woman and finally, the discovery of Nanna and the fateful accident. For Peter, it was almost like awakening to a new world, a world he neither understood nor liked. So much had happened in such a short space of time. He sat for a while until he could find the words.

“I … I don’t know what to say,” he started. “What possessed you to attack the Nemesis? I mean what were you thinking?”

Farren was taken aback, “What do you mean? The ship was there, Nanna was on board, and it seemed the logical thing to do.”

Peter snorted, “Logical? Since when have you ever been logical? Same old Farren – have to rush in all gung-ho, never thinking of the consequences.”

“Hold on. What else was I supposed to do? We hadn’t come all this way, gone through all this, for her to be only metres away and then what? I’m supposed to sit here? There was a chance Peter, a chance to rescue her. Wasn’t that why we came here in the first place, to get that chance?” Farren’s voice trembled.

“That wasn’t the time, Farren, can’t you see that? And by rushing in, with no plan, once again, you got her killed.”

“I can’t believe this,” Farren turned his head away. When he looked back, tears were in his eyes. “You can’t blame me for this. It was an accident. I was trying to set her free.”

“How? She was chained up and the crew were returning. We started on this trip without thinking it through and now look where it’s gotten us. You would have been better off trying to steal the parchment back and trying to trade the treasure map for her.”

Aeolus watched the argument with a calculating look on his face. Farren sighed. “Peter, you weren’t there. You haven’t been here. So I’ve had to make the decisions for once. And sometimes it’s better not to over think things. We had to take action. You weren’t there to help, so I made a decision. There was nothing more I could have done for Nanna, you know that. You’re just frustrated because you weren’t there. I get that. But don’t blame me for this.”

Peter gazed into his brother’s stricken eyes and sighed. After a long pause he said, “I’m sorry, Farren. It’s just … I just can’t believe she’s gone. And I never got to see her.”

Farren put an arm around his brother.

“It’s ok, Peter. I know.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Aeolus piped up, “but we need to decide what to do now.”“We go home of course,” replied Peter. Farren nodded.

“What? After all that talk about how far you’ve come and what you’ve been through you just want to give up and call it a day!” Aeolus began to pace the cramped infirmary.

“Aeolus, there’s nothing here for us. The one person we treasured most of all is now lost. As Peter said, we embarked on this without thinking. We followed her because, well, because she was Nanna. She raised us. She was like a mother. We were only here for her, and now she’s gone. As soon as the Juggernaut docks, Peter and I will try and find a ship back home. Aeolus,” Farren put a hand on his shoulder, “it’s over.”

“What about the treasure? You had the map to untold riches in your hands!”

“Half a map,” corrected Farren, “and you gave it to the Admiral.”

Aeolus glared at him, “Which, I may remind you, is probably the only thing that kept you alive. Look, here’s a chance for us to make it rich, set ourselves up.”

“How do you propose to do that, Aeolus?” asked Peter. “We don’t even have the map anymore, we only ever saw half of it, we have no idea where to search for it, let alone the fact that we are lucky to still be alive on this ship and we are hardly in the best shape!”

“You forget that the Admiral is looking for the treasure too. It will probably only be a matter of time before he finds the other half of the map!” Aeolus’ eyes lit up.

“And what then? We somehow wait until he has found it and then just take it off him under the nose of almost a thousand of His Majesty’s finest?”

Aeolus flushed, “It’s better than just giving up. Besides, you talked about following a dream and working it out as you went along.”

“Yes, Aeolus,” replied Farren, “but that was our Nanna, someone we cared about. This treasure is not something we care about. This is your dream. Good luck with it but we need to leave at the next port.”

Peter’s eyes shone as he stared at his brother.

Just then a commotion broke out. Sailors were running past the infirmary. Farren went to the door.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“The Admiral has called us all up on deck!” the sailor yelled and ran off.

The doctor quickly grabbed some bandages and a saw and ran out of the infirmary. Farren and Aeolus helped Peter to his feet and his legs quivered as they tentatively made their way out of the gloomy room.

It was slow going, but finally they made their way up onto the crowded deck. Peter blinked in the unfamiliar light. His eyes struggled to adjust. Then he saw what was causing all of the commotion.

There, on the deck surrounded by a dozen Navy men with muskets, were two pirates in chains.

Chapter 12

The Map

Henry glared at the Admiral. He cursed his luck. If it wasn’t for the buffoon standing next to him, he may never have been caught.

Chad stood defiantly. The blood was beginning to congeal on his leg wound, but his hand still dripped steadily onto the deck, the hole left by the bullet still open. It was a lucky shot, he mused.

Admiral Douglas Fairclough had a bandage around his side and fresh stitches in his face, but he was beaming. Finally some good news! He had eagerly watched the approaching row boats through the spyglass. His initial annoyance, that only two of the four pirates were returning alive, had abated somewhat when he realised that he had managed to capture the giant bosun. As soon as the two captured pirates were on deck, the Admiral gave the order to head for the nearest port and the three man of wars slowly turned and began to leave the island behind.

He told James to assemble the crew. They needed a boost after the destruction of the Guardian and this was a moment to savour … his moment. He strutted about on the deck for a short while, impatiently waiting for the crew to assemble.

“Crew of His Majesty’s Navy,” he began, “proud sailors of the Juggernaut, although the Nemesis has eluded us temporarily, we are in hot pursuit and we will catch her. It is only a matter of time. We will shortly dock in the New World,” there were murmurs from the crew, “to restock.” The Admiral raised his voice, “We have managed to capture two of their crew, including their bosun!” This announcement was not met with the expected outpourings of joy, so the Admiral continued, “… who will not only shortly reveal where the Nemesis is heading, but the location of their treasure!” The Admiral paused dramatically. The Navy crew were silent. Irritated that they were not sharing in his moment of victory, the Admiral snapped, “Right, well back to work then.” Of course, the crew may have been a little more exuberant about the prospect of discovering the pirates and their treasure if they had not just witnessed their devastatingly brutal ability to fight and if they actually would be receiving any of the prospective treasure themselves. The Admiral, who stood to be rewarded handsomely by the crown for any treasure discovered, and who still had a personal score to settle, needed no further motivation.

He walked up to Chad.

“You will tell me where the Nemesis is heading. You will tell me where the map to the treasure of Nuestra Señora de Atocha is.”

Chad looked down at the Admiral and spat at his feet. “No,” he rumbled.

The Admiral punched him in the stomach. Chad barely flinched.

He leant closer to the giant pirate, “I will torture and kill your friend first and then I will do the same to you until you talk.”

With surprising speed, Chad grabbed the Admiral by the neck and lifted him up in the air.

PHHMP!

PHHMP!

The muskets fired and the bullets hit Chad in the arm and leg. He dropped the Admiral.

“He no friend of mine,” he said before slipping into unconsciousness.

...

Chad gradually awoke. Pain quickly spread through his body as the shock wore off. He gradually surveyed his surroundings. He was chained to the mast. He looked across and saw Henry’s corpse. The pirate’s body was surrounded by gulls that were gnawing at his exposed intestines. He glanced down and saw his own blood dripping on the deck from the bullet wounds in his body. He could hear the Admiral yelling.

“What is that?”

“Sap, sir. It’s formed a hardened layer over his whole back,” James replied.

“Well, use the cat and whip it off if you have to. I need him to talk. That other fellow knew nothing.”

The whip had nine large knots tied on each end. Normally this would have quickly ripped the flesh from a man’s back, but the sap was protecting Chad, for now. James was sweating as he cracked the whip again and bits of sap flew through the air.

Whhchoo!

Chad tried to gather his strength. It was only a matter of time now.

Whhchoo!

Whhchoo!

Peter, Aeolus and Farren, along with a few other crew members who were cleaning the deck, flinched as each blow dug deeper into the man’s flesh.

“Sir!” James stopped, “come and look at this!”

The Admiral came over. “What? What am I looking at?”

“The tattoo on his back … it looks like a map!”

The Admiral leaned closer and stared through the congealed mass of blood, skin and sap and sure enough, he saw what looked like a map. “Copy that down!” he yelled as he raced to his quarters.

James dutifully began to draw the tattoo onto parchment, as best he could. He did not notice Aeolus moving closer as he cleaned. He glanced at what James had drawn.

The Admiral returned, breathless, with the other half of the map.

Excitedly he put the two parts together.

“At last!” he yelled.

Chad’s head slumped.

The Admiral began to walk back to his quarters. James pointed to Chad, “What about him?”

“Get rid of it. He has no purpose, now that I have what I want.” He walked off.

James and five other sailors removed the chains from Chad’s defeated body. James thought about inflicting further punishment on the giant pirate but, looking at his tattered back and the bullet holes, he didn’t see the point. The semi-conscious pirate was dragged to the edge of the ship and unceremoniously thrown overboard.

“Land ahoy!” came the call from the crow’s nest.

...

The Spanish port of Cartagena loomed ahead. So as to minimise their chances of being mistaken for an invading force, the Admiral ordered the other two man of wars to anchor outside the port and he raised a flag of peace as they entered. The port was a bustling wall of noise, activity and stifling heat. Strange smells assailed the Navy crew as the man of war docked. They could see the forest and mountains stretching out into the distance beyond the port. A small force of Spanish soldiers stood waiting for them nervously. As the crew laid anchor and secured the ship, James and the Admiral went ashore.

Peter, Farren and Aeolus pretended to busy themselves on deck as they watched the heated discussion with the soldiers. They saw the Lieutenant hand over a large bag of what they assumed were coins and the soldiers stood aside. The Admiral then signalled for the crew to disembark. The boys knew this was there only chance and they slowly helped Peter to walk down the ramp. Sweat poured down their brows as each step seemed an eternity. When they reached the bottom of the ramp, a Navy sailor stopped them.

“Where do you three think you’re going?” he asked.

Aeolus piped up, “The doctor is very busy at the moment with all the sick and wounded and he asked us to go ashore to get some supplies. He told us that this one,” he nodded his head at Peter, “could do with the exercise. I wish he hadn’t because he’s a dead weight,” he rolled his eyes, “but hey, orders are orders.”

The sailor looked them over suspiciously. “I suppose, go on then.”

The three boys made their painstakingly slow way into the city. Each step they took, they were waiting for the shout to come from the man of war… but none came.

They paused in a nearby alleyway to catch their breath.

...

The Admiral was also puffing, but he could not afford to rest. He, James and three of the crew were now in their third alehouse. Still, he had yet to find anyone who could tell him what the ship ‘Ursula’ was. No one had heard of it. What was worse, every drunken fool they tried to bribe made it harder to conceal the reason for their arrival. The Admiral turned to James, “We’re not getting anywhere. Either they are too suspicious and aren’t telling us, or just too stupid. Let’s buy some clothes and try and blend in.”

“Sir, I can handle this. It is a risk you being in the city,” James insisted.

“James, as soon as we know, I want to be there. I’ve been chasing this for too long to let it slip away now.”

“It just seems odd that the map does not mention the Spanish ship, sir”

“Yes. I know and it’s starting to annoy me.”

...

Several miles further south in a natural bay, the Nemesis stood anchored. Two rowing boats had been dragged up onto the jungle entwined shore. As the remainder of the crew remained behind to patch up the Nemesis and restock, Mara’s face remained impassive as she and five of the pirates hacked and slashed their way through the jungle. They should be at Cartagena in less than five minutes, Mara thought. She hoped that the Navy would still be there to meet them.

...

“Wait!” Peter was still leaning against the wall and he was beginning to feel quite light headed. Of course the oppressive heat didn’t help, since the sweat and flies were in his still recovering wounds. Farren and Aeolus turned and rushed back to his side.

“I don’t know if I can make it, the pain is just too much. My head is spinning …” Peter slumped into Farren’s arms. Farren turned to Aeolus.

“Take him. Watch him. I’ll try and get help,” he said.

“Be careful.”

Farren set out into the city unsure as to where to go. Who could help him? He knew he needed to keep moving, the Navy crews were very busy stocking up on supplies but he knew that they had been lucky to get past the guard and may not be so again. But he was in a foreign city, didn’t speak the language and was running out of time.

Chapter 13

Clue Solved?

Admiral Fairclough was feeling very uncomfortable. Having exchanged his uniform for some ill-fitting civilian clothes, he felt decidedly out of place. However, he wanted the treasure almost more than he wanted to finally have Mara at the end of his sword so that he could finish what the shark could not. So he reluctantly walked across the town square, ignoring the stares from the locals. He made a mental note to return and raze this god forsaken place to the ground. James, who seemed equally ill at ease, suddenly turned.

“Admiral, what if it still is the Atocha?”

“What the devil are you on about boy? What is it heatstroke? Or some form of idiocy? Heaven help us if it’s contagious.” He smirked at his own joke.

James gritted his teeth and persevered, “I meant, what if the map still is referring to the Atocha but the Saint Ursula is just a clue to the treasure’s location.”

The Admiral stopped in his tracks.

“Hmm, you may have something there, boy.”

“Is it contagious sir?” James instantly regretted his sarcasm. The Admiral glared at him.

“Thank you, James. Let’s leave the humour to me, what? Now, I can’t remember anything about Saint Ursula.”

James and the other three Navy sailors thought for a while but none could recall who she was.

“Right, well then let’s spread out and meet again in half an hour,” ordered the Admiral.

...

“Let’s spread out and meet again in half an hour,” ordered Mara as she and the pirate crew arrived on the outskirts of Cartagena. “And Renard, try not to kill anyone yet please.”

Renard frowned, “Not even a couple?”

Mara sighed, “Only if you absolutely have to.”

Renard grinned.

One of the pirates asked the captain, “So what are we looking for then?”

Mara shook her head. She was constantly amazed that some of the pirates had enough intelligence to elect her captain, let alone more complicated tasks like walking and talking at the same time.

“Well, I assume the Navy have caught Chad, which means they have at least half the map.”

“So Chad had the map then?”

Mara gritted her teeth.

“Yes he did. So anyway, they will come here to repair and restock, just as we have. We need to find out what they know and if they have the other half of the map.”

“What other half?”

“One more question like that,” Mara thought, “and I’ll cut you in half!”

“The other half that Aron was supposed to get back, but only ended up getting himself killed before we could get our hands on it,” she snapped.

“Oh, that half,” said the pirate.

Mara turned and cut him in half with her sword anyway. There was only so much stupidity a person could take.

...

Aeolus was also thinking about the map. He had seen what James had been drawing and the other half when it was handed to the Admiral. He had a good memory and although he only had a rough idea of the shape of the island, he could remember the words ‘Saint’ and ‘Ursula’. It sounded familiar, but from where? He looked down at Peter who was unconscious. He was of no help. He contemplated leaving, but thought better of it. The boys still may be useful. He wasn’t a big fan of digging for one thing.

And then he remembered.

Santa Ursula y las Once Mil Vírgenes.

He recalled a sailor once telling him that it was the original name that Christopher Columbus gave what the islands now known as Las Virgenes – the Virgin Islands! He jumped up and down in excitement! Now, how to get there?

“I could go and tell the Admiral, but I’m sure he would be only temporarily grateful,” Aeolus thought, “once the treasure was found he’d then be grateful to be rid of me. I know the treasure is on one of the islands. But which one? I need a map of all of them, but even then, I’m not sure I could recognise the island shape as I’ve only briefly seen both parts. And even then, I don’t have the actual path that I need to follow.” He grimaced as his frustration began to fester. “So how can I best use this knowledge to my advantage? I either need to get the map itself, or ally with the captain and then somehow get the treasure off him when he’s probably going to be highly suspicious and surrounded by plenty of troops. So then the best time to get the treasure is now – by seizing the map. He probably will have lot fewer people with him. But how do I steal it?” Aeolus remained deep in thought until just before Farren eventually returned, when he finally came upon the answer. It was obvious!

...

It took Farren a long time of fruitless searching and asking the wrong people the wrong questions, and countless mimes that would have been hilarious in any other context, before he made any headway. There were a number of close calls with sailors walking by and almost spotting him, and once, he almost thought he saw some of the pirates from the Nemesis, but he didn’t linger around long enough to ask them. But finally he met a young couple who spoke a smattering of English, enough that he could explain the urgency of his need. They took him to a local doctor and translated Farren’s request for help. The doctor grabbed some supplies and then followed Farren who, after thanking his anonymous good samaritans, frantically led the way towards the alley.

...

It took all of Aeolus’ limited patience to restrain himself from discussing his revelation about the map. He knew that he still needed the help of these two, for now, as he was unable to enact his plan without them. Furthermore, he realised that Farren’s primary concern was his brother which, to a certain extent, was also Aeolus’ worry. It would be easier with all three of them, after all.

“Farren! So glad you’re back,” Aeolus exclaimed with a worried frown, “I’ve not taken my eye’s off Peter this whole time and he is showing no signs yet of improvement. Who’s that?” he added, nodding at what appeared to be a native tribesman.

“He’s a doctor.” Farren rushed to his brother’s side.

The doctor carefully examined Peter and then rummaged in his bag and produced a variety of lotions and creams that he proceeded to put on Peter’s wounds. He pulled out what looked like a herb or plant of some kind and placed it under Peter’s tongue. Farren hovered impatiently. Aeolus watched with mild interest. The doctor leaned back and nodded. He turned to Farren and grabbed his leg. He then reached into his bag and grabbed a container of green, putrid smelling gunge which he slapped onto Farren’s shin.

Farren was startled at first, but then remembered the splinter injury. He was so caught up in everything, he had almost forgotten!

The doctor turned to Aeolus who flinched as he was scrutinised. The man scrunched his painted face as he looked him up and down and then he turned, packed his bag and nodded towards Farren, who thanked him profusely. With that, the native doctor was gone.

Farren knelt next to his brother and watched him, as if willing him to get better. Aeolus could finally contain himself no longer, “I’ve solved it Farren!”

“Solved what?” he asked distractedly.

“Why, the map of course! I know where the treasure is!”

Farren’s sense of adventure that had lain dormant beneath the surface for so long began to bubble. “What do you mean? How is that possible?”

“Well I have only briefly seen both bits of the map, but I did manage to see the words ‘Saint Ursula’. An old friend of mine once told me that the first name that Christopher Columbus gave to the Virgin Islands was Santa Ursula y las Once Mil Vírgenes. Get it – Saint Ursula – Virgin Islands! And they’re only just off the coast!” Aeolus jumped in the air.

“Oh my god,” Farren’s head swirled again with visions of treasure and adventure but then, the cloud cleared. “But, hang on … we don’t have the map. How do you know which of the Virgin Islands holds the treasure, let alone how to get to it and where to dig? We are actually no nearer.”

“But we could be.”

Farren frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Aeolus paced up and down the cramped alley. “We could take the map, the three of us. The Admiral is in the city. He will only have two or three sailors with him. We could ambush them, the three of us, take the map and then we can go and get the treasure for ourselves.”

“Hold on, hold on. Are you serious? Have you actually looked at the three of us? It’s a miracle that we’ve survived this long, but you want to go and attack the Admiral of the Royal Navy in broad daylight, steal a map that’s brought nothing but death, and then somehow get the treasure and get away? And this is after we had already said that we just wanted to go home!” Farren’s voice was raised.

“Ok, so how are you going to get home then? There aren’t many ships that are going to go from here all the way back to your village. Basically you will have to go back to the navy or the treasure ships, which are unlikely to take you. Or of course you could pay – but then you’d need a lot of money.”

“We could work to earn the money, or we could go on a merchant ship,” Farren tentatively suggested.

“You could, but it could take six months. Is your brother going to be alright for six months in the New World? Away from modern medicine?” Aeolus suggested.

Farren fell silent.

“Farren?” Peter’s voice was faint.

“Peter, are you alright?” Aeolus dashed to his side.

“Yeh, actually, I feel a lot better. Rested.” He looked at Farren and then Aeolus, “What’s going on?”

“Aeolus thinks we should ambush the Admiral to steal the map, because he’s worked out that the treasure is on one of the Virgin Islands. He thinks that we are going to struggle to get home without the money.”

“That map has bought so much trouble, can’t you just let it go?” asked Peter.

“Look, Peter, Farren. This is your chance … your chance to set yourselves up for life. Let’s say, somehow, you manage to get back home. Then what? You’ll end up working for the rest of your life, struggling to make ends meet. But this is your chance to change all of that. In one day, we could have more treasure than we can spend. How many times in our lives do we get a chance to do something like this? What’s more, how many times over the last months have I been there for you? And all I’m asking is that you are there now for me, in return for untold riches – and you think it’s a bad deal!” Aeolus pleaded.

Peter sighed, “Fine Aeolus, we’ll do it.”

Farren stared at his brother.

“Look, maybe he’s right. Maybe this is our chance. We don’t have anything back home now. We’ve come half way around the world and survived this much – maybe this is a way of taking something back, something positive from this whole thing,” Peter argued.

“I suppose,” Farren reluctantly agreed.

Peter smiled as he stood up. “Right, so what’s the plan, Aeolus?”

Aeolus grinned, “It’s quite simple really. I have some coin I have saved. We get ourselves a crossbow each and then search the city until we find the Admiral. If he hasn’t worked it out already, he is probably looking for the answers to the map so he will be near an alehouse, most likely. That will be our best chance, as he’s unlikely to have too many of the crew with him as it would look suspicious and he would then be less likely to get the information he seeks. So then we draw the crossbows, tell him to hand it over and then dash to the wharf as quickly as possible. Easy!”

...

So, despite their scepticism over Aeolus’ plan, the boys soon found themselves standing outside their third pub, with a loaded crossbow concealed under their hooded cloaks. They entered the smoky room. It was fairly dark and subdued inside. Low voices murmured in murky alcoves. The three young men lingered in the doorway, eyes scanning the room. Aeolus turned to face the brothers.

“I see him. He’s over in the far corner in that booth. The Lieutenant and one other sailor is with him. Now’s our chance.”

“Hang on.” Farren frowned. “What exactly do you want us to do?”

“Follow my lead and if in doubt, shoot. The British have very few friends here.”

Aeolus led the way across the room. The brothers attempted to calm their shaking hands.

The three Navy men were deep in conversation over three large tankards of beer. Aeolus arrived at the booth.

“… not having much luck. Maybe we should …who on earth are you?” said one of the sailors.

Aeolus pulled the crossbow from his cloak. Farren and Peter stood on either side.

“Admiral, give me the map.”

“By jove, you’ve got some cheek, coming in like that. Why, I …”

PHMP

The bolt stuck out of the sailor’s chest, who collapsed onto the table. The Lieutenant and the Admiral looked at each other. Peter and Farren stood in shock, they weren’t expecting this.

“I’ll say again, Admiral,” Aeolus stood grim faced as he reloaded the crossbow, “give me the map.”

“Look, hold on sonny. Let’s be reasonable,” the Admiral began.

“Were you reasonable when you keelhauled my friend?” Aeolus asked.

PHMP

James’ eyes crossed as if trying to see the bolt that now protruded from his forehead. He slumped on the table.

The patrons of the bar, whose view was obscured by the three cloaked figures standing around the booth, began to start to notice that something odd was going on.

“Now, for the last time, Admiral,” Aeolus pointed the reloaded crossbow at the Admiral’s head, “either give me the map or I will wrest from your lifeless corpse. You and I well know that in this Spanish city, no one will miss you or ask too many questions. Now, the map, if you don’t mind.”

The Admiral’s hand reached inside his jacket.

“And don’t try anything. We’re all nervous and likely to shoot … again.”

The Admiral reluctantly handed over the two pieces to Aeolus.

“You know you won’t get away with this,” he blustered.

“I already have, Admiral,” Aeolus raised the crossbow again.

PHMP!

CRSSH!

Chapter 14

The Race

The pub was in uproar. After the Admiral had overturned his table, knocking Aeolus’ shot askew, the boys turned and had made a run for it. The Admiral struggled to clamber over the table and the bodies of his two comrades to pursue them. Precious seconds were lost and then, like a chain reaction, smaller fights started until the whole pub was embroiled in one giant bubbling, seething fight. The Admiral calmly pushed his way through, dodging fists and debris as he steadfastly made his way to the door. He reached for the handle.

“Not so fast.” A hand grabbed his shoulder. The Admiral did not bother to turn, but simply thrust his elbow into the man’s stomach and exited the pub.

In another dark booth in the corner of the pub the man stood up. He’d seen enough. It was time to report back. He smiled. The Captain would be pleased to hear this.

...

“Slow down, I can’t keep up!” Peter gasped.

Aeolus looked back. “We have to keep going. They could be on us at any moment! C’mon!”

Farren slowed. “Here. Put your arm around my shoulder. Aeolus is right. We have to get out of here.”

They hobbled as fast as they could manage towards the wharf.

Aeolus spotted a rowing boat. “Hop in!” he yelled.

“What? You can’t just steal a boat!” Peter protested.

“Too late. Let’s go. Or do you want to explain it to the Navy when they get here?” Aeolus picked up the oars.

Reluctantly the boys clambered aboard and began to row. Soon they found their rhythm and they passed beneath the shadow of the Juggernaut. Some of the crew watched them idly as they tried desperately to remain calm. They strained their ears, listening for any sound that they had been discovered. Sweat dripped off their brows as they rowed on in silence.

Finally they left the shadow of the giant man of war and began to exit the harbour. They saw the other two man of wars in the distance, like two nightmares on the horizon. They rowed as close to the shore as they dared.

“Where are we going Aeolus?” Farren whispered.

“When I bought the crossbows, I asked the shopkeeper about the Virgin Islands. He had a map on the wall that he showed me.” Aeolus stopped rowing. “Let’s stop here for a bit.” It was approaching dusk but there was still sufficient light for Aeolus to see as he unravelled the parchment. He stared at it and then turned it around several times. Peter and Farren watched him.

“I think,” he began, “That this is one of the islands in the South East. I didn’t have enough money to buy the map from the shopkeeper but I tried to memorise it as best I could.” He looked again. “Yes, I’m pretty sure. We’ve a long row ahead of us though. Many hours at least. We should take it in shifts and rest in between.”

“What about the Juggernaut?” Peter asked.

“I’m not too worried. If the Admiral had solved the clue then he wouldn’t have been in that pub. We have some time before they realise which way we’ve headed. Besides, we’re the only ones with the map! You two get some rest, I’ll row first.” Aeolus said as he picked up the oars.

...

The Admiral moved at a brisk pace and shortly was back at the wharves. He brushed past the two sailors on guard and raced up the gangplank and back onto the deck.

“Sir. How can I help?” A young sailor saluted.

“Bill isn’t it?” The Admiral asked.

“Mark, sir.”

“Right. That’s right. Mark you are my new Lieutenant.”

“Sir, thank you sir, I…”

“Yep, yep. Time for that later. Now look. There is a map that has on it the location of the treasure of Nuestra Senora de Atocha, the Spanish ship that sank in these waters years ago. The map belonged to me and now some brigands have stolen it from me. They probably have stolen a boat as well.” The Admiral paced up and down the deck.

“Where are they headed sir?” the eager new Lieutenant asked.

“Dagnabbit, if I knew that you fool, I wouldn’t have just spent hours in that god-forsaken city trying to solve the clue!” The Admiral’s grey beard appeared to bristle in anger.

Realising that the likelihood of retaining the position of Lieutenant for longer than five minutes was looking slim, Mark thought quickly. “Do you remember the clue, sir?”

“Remember. It’s etched onto my skull, I’ve gone over it so many times! ‘Beware the treasure of Saint Ursula is well protected’ is what it says. Fat lot of good it will do you.” The Admiral folded his arms.

Mark thought furiously, “Well, there’s no Saint Ursula ship …”

“Amazing,” the Admiral interrupted, sarcasm dripping in the air, “never would have figured that out without you. I don’t know whether I really need another …”

“… but there are some islands named after her,” Mark interjected.

“…Lieutenant. What?” The Admiral grabbed the Lieutenant by the lapels. “What did you say?”

“Santa Ursula y las Once Mil Vírgenes. It was the original name Columbus gave the Virgin Islands. The treasure must be there.” Mark stared defiantly into the Admiral’s rabid eyes.

“Of course!” he yelled, “It’s so obvious! I’m so glad it finally came to me”

Mark glared.

“With some help from yourself of course. Quickly, set sail for the Virgin Islands. I want every man armed and ready. Mark, follow me. Let’s look over the maps and see if we can get any more information.” The Admiral excitedly rushed towards his cabin as the crew bustled around on the deck.

“But sir, some of the men are still ashore getting supplies!”

“Too bad,” Admiral Fairclough called out over his shoulder.

...

Having left the pub as quickly as his legs would take him, the man now stood in front of Renard and shuddered. There were not many things that a pirate feared, but Renard was one of them.

“Say again, s’il vous plait?” the words oozed out of the Frenchman’s mouth.

Fighting the urge to run, the man said, “I saw three youths in the pub ambush some Navy men, who were in plain clothes. One of them looked like the Admiral, I recognise him from the battle on the Juggernaut. The boys killed two of the men, not the Admiral though and then they seemed to take something from him. Then a fight broke out and the three men ran out, followed a short time later by the Admiral.”

Renard smiled. “It is time to go. Alert the rest of the crew.”

He swivelled on his heel and walked off.

Shortly he was at the outskirts of the small town, where he stopped. He could hear her rattling breaths. From behind a tree, Mara appeared.

Renard inclined his head, “Captain. Three young men appear to ‘ave the map. We need to go.”

They began to run through the forest.

...

Farren and Peter awoke with a start. The rocking of the small boat had lulled them into sleep and their exhausted bodies had soon succumbed. But when their eyes opened, they had no idea where they were.

Aeolus was staring at them.

“We are almost there, but I’m exhausted. Can you two take over? Head that way,” he pointed towards a distant island. “But both of you should row, because I think that dot back there,” he indicated behind them, “is the Juggernaut and its friends.”

The two boys grabbed the oars and rowed frantically as Aeolus curled up in the bottom of the boat. Within minutes he was asleep.

...

Admiral Fairclough put the eyeglass down.

“It’s them alright. Those are the brigands. Now, listen up men!” The crew paused and looked up at him.

“Anyone who kills one of those thieves can have one twelfth of my share of the treasure.” The crew cheered, this was unheard of!

“If we can find this blasted treasure, everyone gets ten pieces o’ eight!” Applause broke out across the deck.

“So get the cannons ready … just in case.”

...

Mara put down her spyglass.

“The fools are so intent on the treasure they don’t even look behind them,” she murmured as the Nemesis followed the large dots on the horizon.

...

“Aeolus, wake up!” Aeolus blinked and looked up to see Farren violently shaking him.

“What? What is it now?” he snapped.

“We’re almost there,” Peter said, panting with the exertion.

Aeolus looked ahead and saw a small island looming. He turned and glanced behind. “Jesus, they’re almost upon us,” he remarked as he saw the three man of wars inexorably baring down on them from the distance.

He fished the parchment out and examined it.

“It’s not this one. It’s the next island. We need to row around it. Here,” He sidled up next to Peter. “I’ll help you row.”

They heaved the small rowboat and began to move around the island, in what seemed an interminably slow fashion. They could clearly make out the sails on the Navy ships and could also see, a long way in the distance, another ship.

BOOM! They saw a flash of light from the nearest man of war.

PLLSH!

A flume of water rose in the air behind them. Too close behind them. They forced their aching limbs to give energy they didn’t have and dragged the oars through the water.

BOOM!

PLLSH!

The spray of water hit their faces. The Navy were gaining.

They rounded the island and finally they could see a forest covered island, a short distance away. They pushed and strained at the oars.

BOOM!

PLLSH!

The splash was just to their left. It was only a matter of time before the cannons were readjusted.

They were almost there.

BOOM!

PLLSH!

Just to their right. The beach was so close, they could almost touch the sand.

BOOM!

“Jump!” yelled Farren. The three young men leaped out of the rowboat.

SHHPSSH!

The cannonball smacked into the rowboat and it instantly splintered into hundreds of fragments. The boys forced their leaden arms to swim the short distance to shore. They dragged themselves up the beach.

They looked out to sea and saw the Navy ships beginning to anchor. Rowboats were being readied. There wasn’t much time.

Quickly Aeolus got the map out. It was sodden, but still barely legible. “Right. According to this we need to pass through some mountains to the east.”

They stepped into the jungle.

...

“I don’t want to battle three man of wars, Renard. So make a wide berth around the island and we’ll approach from the other side.”

“Oui, captain,” the Frenchman replied.

...

BZZZZZ!

The boys ignored the mosquitoes and the sweat that drenched their clothes as they jogged as fast as they could through the jungle. They shortly came to a steep, rocky incline.

“What now?” asked Peter.

Aeolus examined the parchment again. “It looks like there should be a pass through the mountain. Then it’s basically straight on to some kind of oasis, or lake which is marked by an ‘X’”

“Well, we’d better find this path quickly then. The Navy can’t be too far behind!”

...

Admiral Fairclough and Lieutenant Mark stepped off the rowboat onto the shore. Four other boats soon joined them. Soon the beach contained thirty armed sailors.

“Right lads. It looked like they headed this way,” the Admiral pointed off into the jungle, “Keep your eyes peeled. There’s no need to do anything stupid. There’s nowhere for them to run to now. Five of you can row the boats back and await my signal. I don’t want any mistakes on this one. The treasure’s as good as mi … ours!”

...

“Over here! I think I’ve found it!” Peter yelled.

“Shh!” whispered Farren as he ran over to join his brother. “Don’t speak too loud!”

Aeolus soon joined them and the three young men stared at a large crack that split into the mountain. It was just wide enough for a body to squeeze in.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” asked Aeolus and plunged into the darkness.

Farren and Peter looked at each other.

“After you, dear brother,” Farren said.

“No, I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair for me to take the thrill from you. After you,” Peter stretched his arm out.

“I think that you would be the better …”

“Oh for god sake, c’mon!” Aeolus’ voice echoed in the distance.

The boys reluctantly entered the dark, cobweb strewn crevasse. They felt their way through blindly, in the hope that this was actually the path and not some dead end, or worse, the lair of some unimaginable creature. They could hear rustling above them and their breathing seemed to echo loudly around the cavern walls. They pushed on, their fear of the known behind them, slightly outweighing that of the unknown ahead.

Gradually the darkness began to recede and they could make out light at the end of the jagged corridor. They raced as fast as their tired, injured limbs would carry them.

...

Admiral Douglas Fairclough surveyed the large mountain ahead of him.

“Right.” He scratched his grey beard. “You five go south with Lieutenant Mark. You five come north with me. You three stay here and the rest of you … start climbing.”

...

They emerged, blinking, into the light. A large desert like wasteland confronted them that appeared to be carved out of the forest that formed its border. They could see a couple of trees standing alone in the centre of the sand.

“That must be it!” cried Aeolus and dashed ahead.

...

“Admiral,” Lieutenant Mark called out, “I think I’ve found a way through the mountain!”

Admiral Fairclough smiled. They were getting closer.

Chapter 15

Treasure Found

Inside the forest, bordered by a giant mountain, sat a large oasis of sand. A small lake lay in the middle with a few trees on its banks.

“The map shows the treasure is on this bank!” Aeolus yelled and they all scrambled around in the soft sand.

They continued to dig frantically until …

“I think I’ve found something,” cried Farren. He dragged a bulky old chest out of the small hole he had dug.

The three of them grinned at each other. Farren wiped sand from the top.

“Hey, it’s got something written on the top,” he squinted to make out the faded writing.

“If you came for treasure it lies within, if you did not, what you treasure lies beyond your grasp”

Aeolus laughed, “Well, we came for treasure, who wouldn’t?? Open the chest!”

Farren lifted the lid and his mouth fell open.

It overflowed with gold, rubies, diamonds that sparkled in their eyes and glinted in the sun.

Farren and Peter hugged each other and jumped up and down. They turned to celebrate with Aeolus and saw he was holding a crossbow … pointed at them.

“Sorry, boys. But this is where we have to part ways. Thanks for helping though.”

“But…” Farren started.

“Oh, don’t tell me. You really thought I was going to share the treasure with you. Oh, Boo hoo. Sorry.” He closed the lid and began to drag the chest away. The boys fumbled in their clothing for their crossbows.

Aeolus stopped and turned, holding up the boys’ bows in his hands.

“Looking for something? Shouldn’t have slept so well on the boat. Well, now you can go to sleep for good!” He raised the crossbow and fired at Peter.

“No!!” Farren leapt through the air.

PHHMP

The bolt hit Farren and he slumped to the ground. Peter screamed, “Farren!!” and knelt over his brother.

Laughing Aeolus continued to drag the chest away from the sobbing Peter.

The chest was not as heavy as he expected and he was soon at the entrance to the crevasse. He turned and looked over his shoulder at Peter who was lying over Farren’s body in the distance and smiled. “Family,” he thought, “It’s a strength, but also a great weakness.” He turned back and came face to face with Admiral Fairclough.

“Sorry, old chap,” the old sailor said.

Aeolus looked down and saw the Admiral’s sword sticking out of his chest. Gurgling, he fell back onto the treasure chest. As his eyes closed for the final time, his hands twitched, trying to hold onto the treasure as it, and his life, slipped from his grasp.

The Admiral kicked the body off the chest.

“Finally!” he yelled as he opened the chest. His eyes widened at the contents. A broad grin spread across his face.

“Right, let’s go!” he said.

“But, sir, what about the other two?” asked the newly promoted Lieutenant.

The Admiral grabbed his spyglass and looked over at the lake where both boys lay still, “Dead by the look of ‘em. Let’s go!”

“But …” Lieutenant Mark was stopped by the Admiral’s glare and they lifted up the treasure chest and headed back towards the Juggernaut.

...

Peter lay on top of his brother and watched as the Navy left with the treasure, leaving Aeolus’ body in the sand. He waited as long as he could before impatience overtook him. He got up and looked at Farren. Farren looked back at him and smiled.

“Are they gone?” he asked.

“Seems like it,” Peter replied.

“Well acted,” Farren grinned in spite of the pain of the bolt that had lodged itself in his upper arm.

“You weren’t too bad yourself. I’m just glad you went along with it.”

“That’s what brother’s are for,” Farren replied.

They sat in silence for a while before Peter piped up, “Well, that’s our chance at the treasure gone then.”

“Yeh,” Farren grinned, “but we didn’t really, truly come for it did we?”

“Well, I thought you did.”

“Not really. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it would have been nice. Very nice. But it’s not the end of the world.”

“No. It’s not.” Peter and Farren stood up.

“So which way do you think we go then?” Farren asked.

“I think we should head that way through the forest. We are less likely to run into the Admiral that way,” Peter suggested.

“Sounds good to me. Although, you realise that as our boat exploded, we are kind of boatless.”

“As long as there aren’t any snakes on this island I’ll be happy,” replied Peter laughing.

They reached the outskirts of the forest when Farren stopped in his tracks. Peter turned.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.

Farren frowned. “Something just struck me. Did you not think that the treasure was a bit … odd?”

“Well the inscription was unusual,” Peter began.

“No, it’s not just that. It was supposed to be the lost treasure of Nuestra Senora de Atocha.”

“Yeh, so.”

“But as everyone knows, the Nuestra was a Spanish ship that sank in these waters.”

“and …” Peter was getting impatient.

“… and yet we just dug it up in the shape of a chest buried in the middle of an island.” Farren paced across the sand.

“So what, maybe someone found the treasure in the ship, put it in chest and buried it.” Peter argued.

“I suppose…,” his brother reluctantly conceded and began to walk into the forest.

“Hold on. The inscription said, “If you came for treasure it lies within, if you did not, what you treasure lies beyond your grasp.” The first bit clearly refers to the contents of the chest, but the second bit. We didn’t really come for treasure. So it says what we want lies ‘beyond your grasp’.”

Farren thought for a bit.

“I’ve got it. Beyond your grasp. I think there’s something buried deeper! C’mon!” he yelled over his shoulder as he ran back to the lake.

They both dropped to their knees and dug frantically.

The hole got deeper.

And deeper.

They kept digging

And then they reached a small, little heart shaped locket. They both stared at it, disappointed.

Peter blew the sand off it and pried it open. A small piece of paper was inside which read:

My love. Go south for a hundred and four paces through the forest. Look for the cave entrance. R.

Puzzled Peter read it again and looked to see if the locket contained anything else.

It remained empty.

The boys looked at each other.

“Well, we’ve come this far,” grinned Farren.

They turned towards the forest and began to count their paces.

“One … Two …”

...

The Admiral waved the flaming torch. He looked in the distance as another torch blinked, indicating that the row boats were coming. He smiled. He had finally won! Of course the treasure would have to be turned over to His Majesty, but who was to say how much was in the chest to start with? He patted the large chest with glee.

...

“Ninety-nine … One hundred.”

The boys stopped.

They stood in front of a large tree trunk which was leaning against a sheer rock wall that was entwined with vines and creepers. They both looked at each other.

“So what now?” asked Farren.

“I guess we try and find that cave entrance.”

They went on either side of the tree.

“Hang on,” Farren said as he examined the tree more closely. “These vines are moving.”

“Snakes?” Peter’s voice shook.

“No. Breeze. There’s a cave back here.” He lifted the vines away and the cave entrance was revealed.

They walked down a long cool passageway and turned the corner and gasped …

The narrow rock corridor opened up into an enormous cave. Stalactites hung from the ceiling and pointed towards a large lake at the bottom of the cave. The path curved downwards towards the water. The other side of the cave was open and, if the boys took the time to look, they would have seen that the water led out of the cave and into the ocean. However something else had grabbed their attention.

It was a ship.

It was fairly small, compact and stream lined. It only had the one row of cannons, but it oozed speed. The boys ran down the path. A plank led onto the deck. Tentatively they made their way across it. They glanced at each other and nervous smiles spread out across their faces. Each of them walked cautiously across the deck. What was this? They explored the deck. Nothing looked as if it had ever been touched.

They walked into the captain’s quarters.

There was a large desk in the middle.

On it was a note.

My dearest Mara,

If you have found this letter, then our worst fears have been confirmed and we have been betrayed by that fool, Fairclough.

I regret that we did not have more time on earth together, my love, but each day look into the eyes of our lovely boys, Farren and Peter, and remember me. I will live on in them and in your heart.

Do what you wish with the ‘Spirit’. Remember that I love you.

Yours for ever,

Renato

The boys stood there, stunned.

They read the note again.

And again.

They stared at each other.

This was impossible.

They were standing on the deck of the Spirit, rumoured to be the fastest ship ever made. A ship their father had built. Not only that, but their mother was Mara, pirate captain of the Nemesis!

“I don’t know what to say,” Farren began.

“I know,” Peter replied, “Neither do I. I mean, our mother and father…”

“Yeh.”

They stared at each other for a while.

“Well, I suppose we should see what Dad’s ship can do?” Farren grinned.

“Why not?” laughed Peter.

The Spirit sailed out from the cave as the sun began to set.

...

“Fire, captain?” Renard asked.

Mara watched in shock as the Spirit sailed from the island. She looked through her spyglass. On the deck … could it be? Could it be possible? After all the years that her mother had kept them from her?

Mara watched her sons from the deck of the Nemesis.

“No. Let them be … for now.”

THE END

Candy Wars: The Tooth Fairies vs The Candy King

R.G. Cordiner

You may not like your sister, but are you really going to fight a war against her?

James and Emily never get on - always fighting and arguing! But when James wakes up one night as his tooth is stolen by a jelly monster he follows it into a weird and wonderful world. Chocolate archers come out of the walls and fly in bubble gum balloons, giant rock candy trolls roam around, icing sugar snowmen appear and disappear, all under the direction of the Candy King who is preparing a war against the tooth fairies! Soon Emily and their cat Muffins find themselves joining the fairies, with only a toothless dragon and a phoenix with hay fever to help them fight the mighty Candy Army!

“The Candy King is waiting for you.”

Bug Island

R.G. Cordiner

They destroyed the mighty Mayan Empire. What hope for a few shipwrecked survivors?

A South American cruise. It should have been a once in a lifetime experience. And it was. But not in the way they imagined. Barely surviving a horrific shipwreck, the remaining passengers have to try and cope with finding food, water, shelter, let alone the constant arguments. And then there are the bugs. Not the sort that you squish and then get on with your day. Oh no. Toe biters, pond skaters, assassin bugs and harvestmen that drop down on top of their victims – all of these could be found in your garden. But on this lost island they are all at least twenty times their normal size. Trapped on an island with a six metre long giant centipede with armoured plates was not on the cruise itinerary. Now all they want is to get off – without being squished!

“Anyone pack the bug spray?”

Candy Wars II: Sweet Revenge

R.G. Cordiner

How far will you go to rescue a friend?

One year after their epic battles with the Candy King and the Tooth Fairies, James and Emily have a problem. They are bored. Normal life is just so ... normal. But they are soon faced with a bigger problem. No one is collecting the teeth! Mounds and mounds of teeth are just sitting there. Soon a weak portal appears and James and Emily find themselves back in a world that they no longer recognise. A desolate, ruined wasteland is all that remains of the island. Who did this? Is it the work of the Candy King? What happened to all the Tooth Fairies and their friends? And what creature is lurking in the sand? James and Emily are about to embark on their most amazing adventure yet, one they will be lucky to survive.

"Candy King? Ha! He is a sweetie compared to me!"

cordiner.wordpress.com

Coming Soon:

Alien Hunters: Discovery

R.G. Cordiner

A lethal game of hide and seek ... with aliens. Want to play?

In 1968 an alien spacecraft crash landed on Earth. There were survivors. Today, they walk amongst us, invisible in plain sight. They could be your teacher, your friend or even .... YOU. Everyone sees them as human. Everyone, except two children.

Thomas and Katie were unaware that they could detect aliens until they were contacted by a secret organisation. The Alien Hunters. For years they have been training for this moment. Now their fate is in the hands of two children who are faced with intense training, secret missions, some very freaky weapons and lots of slime. Let the hunt begin.

"Hunting them doesn't bother me. Finding a giant, slime filled alien? Yeh, now that bit bothers me."

cordiner.wordpress.com