Across The Sea (14 page)

They sailed alongside one of
the tall ships and ropes were dropped down. The fishing boat was
tied and the two pirates scaled a rope ladder.

Lily moved to ascend the ladder
herself before it was pulled up. As she climbed, she looked
skyward. Someone up there could be waiting, ready to grab her…

She was almost at the top. Her
heart was beating right through her chest – but she knew that no
matter what, she had to board this fleet of ships. It was the only
way to remain on Francis’ trail. Her eyelevel reached the edge of
the gunwale. She saw someone’s waist, draped in red. She looked up.
Captain Leonard, Ratwell and half a dozen men in red cloaks all
smiled down at her. She let go of the ladder, hoping to land back
onto the deck of the fishing boat, but Ratwell and one of the men
in red reached down and each caught one of her wrists. They both
lifted her and set her down before them. Captain Leonard laughed,
shaking his head.

“Now we finally get our chance
to deal with you,” he sneered. “All you had to do was wait just a
little longer to board and we would have believed you drowned at
sea. You truly are a stupid, little girl.”

Lily was filled with
apprehension as all these men smiled down at her. She turned to
Captain Leonard and said, “For just a little longer, you should
have kept that ugly mouth of yours shut.” And with that, Lily
shifted her left foot behind the right ankle of the man next to her
and elbowed him as hard as she could in the stomach.

“Owe,” the man yowled. He bent
over in pain, and then fell backwards, as Lily wheeled and ran
off.

A handful of men chased after
her.

Captain Leonard held his hand
out to hold Ratwell back.

“Let them catch her,” he
instructed. “We have more pressing matters.”

Lily ran past a group of men
who were cleaning the ship’s deck.

“Where can I find Bodin?” she
asked. Surprised to see a little girl onboard and not sure what was
taking place, the men just pointed East and one of them offered,
“He’s sailing off.”

Lily’s heart surged with hope.
Francis is here!
She would stow aboard their vessel and not
jeopardize his mission until he needed her help. She leaped onto a
plank and crossed over toward the deck of the neighbouring
ship.

Behind her, half a dozen men
landed onto the plank, straight on her trail.

* * *

At another end of the Spanish
Armada, several tall ships moved so that Bodin and his crew might
set sail. Francis looked up and saw Martino wave from the deck of
one of the tall ships. A short rope ladder was thrown down and one
of Bodin’s appointed men went up to hear what Martino had to say.
Bodin was needed. Bodin pushed Francis toward the rope ladder. He
was not taking any chances; he would not let Francis out of his
sight.

As Francis reached the edge of
the tall ship, a man in a red cloak grabbed onto him and lifted him
aboard. Francis looked up at the other men surrounding him. His
heart seized with repulsion as his eyes fell on Captain Leonard, in
his wide-brimmed hat, sneering down at him, and his snake-like
companion Ratwell, standing at his side.

Captain Leonard smirked at
Bodin who now stood behind Francis.

“Left us to the British, did
you think? You underestimated us.”

Bodin grinned. “Never. I
believed you’d have arrived before me.”

Captain Leonard grinned back.
“Since my crew has all but vanished, I was wondering if we might
tag along.”

“I could use you.” Bodin turned
to Martino.

“His Majesty has sanctioned
it,” Martino informed him. “Yours is the most imperative mission of
all. You shall require the fiercest warriors possible.”

“Good,” Bodin replied. He felt
much stronger with these two aboard his ship.

Francis’ heart sank. With these
two lunatics onboard, all manner of hell was now possible.

* * *

Lily ran from ship to ship. It
had been a few minutes since she had evaded the men chasing her but
she had yet to come upon Bodin or Francis. Perhaps she had missed
their ship sailing away. She made certain to look into each and
every face of the men whom she ran past. All were strangers. She
bounded onto the deck of a new ship and darted across it. There was
no other ship tied to it on its port side. She had reached one end
of the Armada. Beyond it was the sea. And a ship… a much smaller
ship than the others, moving off. Men in red cloaks stood on its
deck. And a tall man in a dark brown robe… with a boy at his
side.

Francis!

They were sailing away.

No!

* * *

Francis looked up behind them,
at the city of ships. He saw a group chasing someone toward the
edge of the Armada. A girl...

Lily!

How?
Francis thought.
How did she get to the Armada?

Francis felt a bad ache move
through him. Lily was in peril. He looked on as she climbed over
the gunwale to dive off, but a man in a dark green uniform reached
his arm around her from behind. Soon half a dozen men all grabbed
hold of Lily and carried her away.

Francis flew toward the gunwale
to dive off himself, but Bodin and Captain Leonard latched onto
him. Leonard bent down to Francis’ ear, the brim of his hat rubbing
up against the side of Francis’ head. “She is way too tricky for
her own good, that one,” he whispered. “We told Martino to dispose
of her as soon as they caught hold of her.”

“Lily!” Francis cried out.

Leonard smiled.

Lily was gone from view.

Tears welled up in Francis’
dark eyes. He had never meant to get Lily so involved. Bodin
clenched his arm and swung him around, throwing him down into the
cabin. Francis tumbled to the floor inside and the door to the
cockpit was slammed down shut.

Francis sat up on the floor as
he wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands.

He took a deep breath.

I’m all alone
, he
thought.

He stood, as he repeated that
last thought inside his head.
I’m all alone. The cabin door’s
closed and no one can see what I’m doing. I should be looking for
those clues that I was thinking about.

Frenetic but focused, Francis
opened and searched all the dusty cupboards, but all he found
inside were containers of dry food, bottles of water and old
dishes. He walked past the second room which he already knew was
empty. The third room was Bodin’s chamber. At the end of the narrow
corridor was the last room and it contained an old desk and stool.
Francis opened the desk drawer revealing a lone, ancient bottle of
ink. Nothing else. Not even maps.

The locked drawer under Bodin’s
mattress. I’ve got to try to open that again. That must be where
he’s keeping everything.

As he undid his belt, Francis
entered Bodin’s chamber and went straight for his bed. He went down
on his knees and stuck the buckle’s pin into the keyhole again. He
moved it around. Nothing. He slowed his movements.

Click
.

The drawer sprung open.

Francis looked inside.

The drawer was empty but for an
oddly shaped, thin, metal plate lying in the middle. The plate was
perhaps four inches in length and three inches in width. It was
straight on two sides but with square pieces cut out on the other
two, making it jagged.

What is it?
Francis
thought. He heard heavy raindrops hit the cabin’s roof. He had to
close the drawer; Bodin might be coming, any second, to get in from
the rain.
Should I take it? Maybe it’s a key. Maybe it opens
something on this ship. But then Bodin might see it’s missing and
know I took it. And if it’s useless or opens something far away,
I’ll get in deep trouble for nothing.

Francis knew he should move
away from the bed now, lest Bodin walk in and catch him snooping.
He had to make a decision.

It’s not worthless
,
Francis realized.
Or Bodin wouldn’t have locked it away.

Francis seized the plate and
pushed the drawer closed, the drawer making a clicking sound,
locking. He examined the plate up close. It felt impossibly
thin.

Without warning, the bow of the
ship shot up toward the sky – making Francis fly through the air
and smash against the wall on the other side of Bodin’s bed. The
bow then pointed downwards. Francis remained on the bed. The bow
tilted upwards again, and then dipped back down, as Francis stood,
holding onto the bed for support.

He then heard, or rather his
entire body felt, a deafening crash. A powerful wave had just
hammered down onto the ship.

The boat was whisked vertical,
up, and then down, by yet another lofty wave. Francis moved,
reaching out, and gripped the inside of the room’s open doorway. He
heard shouts from the men above. He also heard the wind: ferocious,
whistling. Francis made his way toward the main cabin door. He held
onto the short stairway and crawled up, as the bow slammed against
soaring water. Francis placed his hand on the door, sliding it
upwards.

The wind was even louder than
Francis had expected, and the high pitched whistling threatened to
pierce through his eardrums. He wanted to put his hands over his
ears but he was too curious. He continued to slide the door up. He
could now see outside.

It was pitch black.

Dark hell had erupted upon
these men.

A shot of lightning flashed
across the black sky – followed a second later by the sound of the
sky itself, snapping in half. Through the heavy rain, Francis could
see the crew, scrambling about.

Bang
!

The ship rocked, and Francis
was thrown outside, toward the stern. His hand grasped something.
It was made of wood. He gripped it.

Crack
!

Somewhere on the boat, wood had
just fractured. Francis was terrified. A mammoth gust whipped
against his body – catching him off guard – and making him lose his
grip...

He was pulled away, upwards. It
felt like he was falling. Only it was up toward the black sky…

Wide fingernails scratched
against his back. Strong fingers clenched his shirt. He was thrown
down. Francis splashed into water, and hit the floor. He looked up.
He was back inside the cabin. It was dark; the candles all snuffed
out. He was also sitting in one foot of water. The ship was
sinking.

Bodies flung in through the
cabin door, two and three at a time. Francis rolled to one side to
avoid being crushed. He placed his hands against the wall and
pulled himself up. Someone lit a glass covered candle. Francis
turned. Perhaps over twelve men, all squeezed inside, were thrown
about as the vessel shuffled up and down, and side to side. Most
were in soaked, red cloaks. Francis caught a handle and held on. He
looked up at the men’s faces. They all appeared so vulnerable,
including the sneering Captain Leonard, with his soggy, dripping
hat, and the now stone-faced Ratwell who remained at his side.
Bodin towered over everyone, tilting his head forward to avoid the
ceiling.

Bash
!
Bash
!

Two glass windows smashed,
shards of glass flying at them.

Everyone ducked.

Water poured in.

We’re definitely
sinking
, Francis thought.
The cockpit must be completely
filled by now.

“This ship!” Captain Leonard
cried. “Why did you insist on this antiquity! We’ll all drown in
the middle of this abyss. All because of your bloated faith in your
reinforcements after the previous owner. This was not the ship for
the Stream Blade and yet, you insisted.”

“Keep quiet!” Bodin yelled, to
no one in particular.

From across the crowded cabin,
Bodin’s grey and white eyes glanced up, and caught Francis’ own,
for a brief moment.

Bash
!
Bash
!
Bash
!

More windows shattered,
everyone ducking again. More water crashed inside.

Francis kept his stare on
Bodin. He could see in his eyes and in his stance that Bodin was
waiting... waiting for something. Within the ear-splitting wind and
shrill whistling outside, Francis heard a faint snap… from far
away.

Bodin shoved through the crowd
toward the bow. He had heard it as well.

This is what he’s been waiting
for.

Francis pushed his way after
him. At the end of the corridor, Bodin entered the room with the
desk and stool. Francis stopped in the undersized doorway and
looked on as Bodin reached his right hand far into the open desk
drawer and pulled on something inside. The desk was somehow
attached to the wall it stood against and the wall moved forward
with Bodin’s pull. Francis saw the outline of a door in the wall,
but it disappeared as the desk fell back in place.

Boff
!

A powerful, bursting
sound...

Boff
!
Boff
!
Boff
!

Francis felt the floor rise. In
fact, Francis realized, the entire ship was rising.

“She’s the only one for the
Stream Blade,” Bodin said, under his breath.

The ship’s wood made a cracking
sound, several more times. Water ceased pouring in. Francis walked
out into the corridor and stared out one of the broken glass
windows. The sky was lighter. It was still raining but the storm
had passed, and they were above water. Francis felt a rush of
relief.

Bodin walked past.

“I warned you not to mix a
storm with the Stream Blade,” Leonard said, as the rest of the crew
moved back to the deck.

“You know nothing of the area,”
Bodin said. “The Stream Blade is a storm for more than half the
year. Men have hidden behind it for centuries. And Leonard, I’m the
Master and Commander of this ship. Mind your words.”

Outside, Francis turned toward
the bow and saw four greyish, white orbs, each six feet in
diameter, attached to the hull; one on each side close to the bow,
and one on either side closer to the stern. The orbs were sticking
out of the water, floating along with the ship.
They brought us
back to the surface
, Francis surmised.