“Oh, shite,” Prudence said, the cask slipping from his fingers as we stood facing the guns.
I knew without anyone telling me that this would be it—the final blow. My sweet sloop wouldn’t be able to survive another volley of cannon fire from the larger ship. We were about to sink with her—if we survived the cannonballs.
A flash of yellow at the right caught my eye. The
Bumblebee,
which had dropped anchor, suddenly leaped forward, narrowly missing slamming against us as she put herself between us and Pangloss’s ship. Striding along the deck of the ship yelling out orders to fire was a familiar figure.
Corbin wasn’t on the flagship, as everyone thought.
Pangloss’s ship opened fire, which Corbin returned, but it was clear that the sloop was built for speed and not intended for serious battle. I had a moment of guilt as I realized that this was the ship Corbin must have used to get to Turtle’s Back so he could spend the night with me . . . probably he’d sailed around the island, intending to rejoin his fleet, where he would switch over to the flagship. Instead, he was being blasted to bits saving me.
“Turn about,” I yelled, flinging myself forward toward the sail.
“Are ye daft?” Tar yelled back. “We’re almost clear of the guns.”
“I don’t care; turn back, turn back! We’re not leaving Corbin to get shot up.”
Tar looked at me as if I had gone stark, staring insane—which I probably had—but gave the order to turn about. Just as our ship started its turn, a second of Bart’s ships joined Pangloss, shooting the crap out of the yellow and black
Bumblebee.
Men bailed out of the ship like fleas jumping off a dog. The two nearest ships in the blockade fleet were turning to help us, the nearest one behind the remains of Corbin’s ship. The men who had jumped overboard swam toward them, but as I scanned the water, I didn’t seen any sign of the man I wanted most to see.
Until I looked back at the ship. Corbin was wrestling with a gun, trying to do the job of three men and load it himself. The gun bucked as I started to scream out a warning to him, but another blast of cannon fire from Pangloss’s ship joined with Corbin’s lone gun to drown me out.
Gunpowder was thick in the air, getting in my nose, leaving an acid taste in my mouth, but worst of all, it hung in thick, heavy gray clouds over the decks, obscuring my vision. By the time the gunpowder dispersed enough so we could see, the deck of Corbin’s ship was destroyed, half of it gone, the ship slowly sinking into the water. The ship seemed to implode on itself under the cannon fire, but there was enough of it left for me to see that Corbin wasn’t still on board.
“Where is he?” I yelled, desperately scanning the wreckage of the ship.
Bas shouted, pointing to the water.
Corbin’s body was almost invisible against the dark water, but the shimmer of water on his flesh caught my eye. He was facedown on a chunk of deck, partially draped over a bit of railing. As I watched, the wood started to sink, taking an unconscious—or possibly dead—Corbin with it.
I didn’t debate the question of what would happen should one of our virtual selves die while our brains were still hooked up to the game, or whether we even
could
die in the game. All I wanted to do was save Corbin. Without thinking of the wisdom of my actions, I ripped off my boots, snatched up a length of rope, and tossed an end of it to Bas. “Tie it to the railing. If I go down, sail home. Don’t try to rescue me.”
Bas’s eyes were huge, but he nodded, quickly securing one end of the rope. I scrambled up on the railing, took a deep breath, and flung myself into the water.
The shallower waters of the harbor might have been warm, but out in the open sea, the water was cold enough to stun me for a few moments. A floating piece of debris slammed into my head, reminding me that I had a man to save. I trod water trying to see any sign of Corbin, but he had gone down. Without considering the likelihood of my own death, I dived, thanking my stars for the relatively clear water that let me see the sinking body ahead of me. My lungs started to burn as I kicked madly toward Corbin, grabbing him by the shirt to keep him from sinking down to the depths. As I struggled to drag him upward, I wrapped a couple of lengths of rope around him, giving it several sharp tugs that I prayed my crew would interpret as my need for assistance.
Black spots started to dance before my eyes. I looked upward, where I could see the hull of the ship, but it seemed an inordinately long way away. The water didn’t seem to be so cold now. In fact, it was rather pleasant, as if it was welcoming me. I drifted toward a deep abyss in the middle of it, clutching Corbin, figuring that if we were together, it might not be so bad. . . .
With a painful jerk, I was slammed up against the side of the ship, my lungs convulsively gasping in both air and water as we broke the surface. Pain blossomed to horrible life all over my body as I collided three more times with the ship while the men hauled us on board.
“We thought we’d lost ye,” Prudence said with repulsive good cheer as Corbin and I landed like dead flounders on the deck.
I vomited up a couple of gallons of water, got to my knees, and crawled over to where Corbin lay motionless.
“Anyone know CPR?” I asked, feeling for a pulse.
The men stared at me. I pushed my dripping hair back from my face, pinched Corbin’s nose, and blew two breaths into his mouth, watching from the corner of my eye to make sure his chest rose. The men gawked openly as I put my hands over his chest and started pumping quickly, counting to fifteen before I repeated the two breaths.
Around us, the air was filled with the sounds and smells of cannon fire, screams of men as they were injured, and the terrible sound of ships being blown apart, but none of that registered with me. I blew breaths into Corbin’s mouth and pumped his chest, my whole world having narrowed down to just one person.
I was aware of blood seeping through his shirt, and dripping off my head, but none of that mattered. The pain that wracked my entire body didn’t matter. The fact that my ship was damaged possibly to the point where we might not make it to shore didn’t matter. Not even the fact that someone I trusted had turned on me mattered. My whole being, my every breath, every beat of my heart, was focused on willing Corbin to live.
Minutes seemed to turn to hours, and just as I thought my own heart was going to burst, Corbin’s body jerked beneath me, his chest rising as he took a horrible long, rasping breath.
He coughed and choked, vomiting up seawater as I turned him on his side, tears of joy blurring my vision so I couldn’t see.
“Am . . .” The word cracked as he coughed up more water. He took a long, shuddering breath and tried again, his voice so hoarse it was painful to hear. “Amy?”
“I’m here, my darling,” I panted, a painful lump in my throat making it hard for me to speak. “I have you. You’re safe now.”
“Famous last words,” he said, then passed out.
Chapter 17
Revenge is sweet,
And flavours all our dealings!
—Ibid, Act I
“Eh . . . be that Black Corbin?”
“Yes. Will someone get me the ship’s first-aid kit? There’s blood. I think he’s been hurt.”
“Oy, Imp, the captain has caught us Black Corbin,” Prudence told his brother excitedly.
“What be a first-aid kit?” Impulsive asked me.
I checked to make sure Corbin was still breathing. To be honest, I was a bit relieved he was unconscious—I had other immediate problems to take care of . . . such as the battle raging around us, and the blood seeping through his wet shirt.
“It’s a medical kit for emergencies. Please go fetch ours.”
The four pairs of legs standing around where I knelt next to Corbin’s inert body didn’t move.
“Is he dead?” Bas asked, peering with critical interest at Corbin’s face.
“No, not yet, but he will be if someone doesn’t hop to it and get me the damned first-aid kit!”
“We’re not be havin’ anythin’ like that on board, I’m thinkin’,” Pru said slowly. “Captain Bart’ll be mighty pleased to know ye’ve caught Black Corbin.”
“Captain Bart isn’t going to know anything about this,” I said grimly. “I need something to stop this bleeding. Gauze or clean linen or . . . oh, my God.” I unlaced Corbin’s shirt, ripping the bottom half to peel it back and expose his torso. There were a half dozen small abrasions due no doubt to the flying debris after Pangloss’s ship had blasted him, but what had me staring in helpless horror was a large, fist-sized piece of wood that jutted out of Corbin’s belly. “This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. You can’t be hurt—none of this is real. Corbin, wake up and tell me you’re not really hurt. Corbin?
Corbin!
”
“Er . . . lass, I’ve no love for Black Corbin, but I’m thinkin’ shaking his head like that when his belly’s been torn open isn’t likely to make him wake up,” Tar suggested. “ ’Tis more likely to be scramblin’ his brains.”
“Captain Bart will have him dancin’ on the jib in no time,” Prudence pointed out. “ ’Twon’t make much difference if he’s all right in his head or not.”
“No one is hanging Corbin, and his brains are just fine because none of this is real,” I told them all, releasing Corbin’s wet hair to stare at my bloodstained hands. “You don’t understand; this is all in our minds.”
“It looks like it’s in his belly,” Bas said, turning his attention to the largest of the wounds. “I knew a man what died after a horse kicked him in the belly. Do ye think a chunk of wood is the same thing as the kick of a horse?”
I pointed my finger at Bas. “Right. That’s it. No more comments about Corbin being dead or dying. Got it?” A blast shook the ship. I threw myself against Corbin to protect him from any more flying debris, yelling as I did so, “Tar, get us out of here!”
“Aye, aye, captain,” he said, kicking aside a bit of the railing as he limped toward the nearest line. “Where be ye wantin’ to go?”
“Anywhere out of the blockade. Go back to the island,” I said, biting my lip. Why wasn’t Corbin opening his eyes and telling me that this was going to be all right, that it was simply a matter of his mind believing he’d been hurt, but he hadn’t really. Why wasn’t he yelling at me for being in the blockade, dammit?
“If we go back, they’ll likely shoot us again,” Tar pointed out.
“Then take us somewhere we can go ashore and get help for Corbin.”
“Aye, let’s get him to shore. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen a really good hangin’,” Prudence said, getting to his feet in order to comply with Tar’s order to tack windward.
I glared at the teen. “You are so close to walking the plank, I can’t even begin to tell you.”
“Me?” Prudence squeaked, his eyes opening wide.
“Yes, you. Oh, I don’t have time to explain. Bas, you help Tar and Prudence-the-soon-to-be-planked as best you can. Imp, help me get Corbin belowdecks.”
The hellish nightmare of the half hour that followed is thankfully a blur in my mind. Around us, while my beautiful—and now partially blown-to-shreds—ship limped a 180-degree circle to head to the far side of the island, the battle for Turtle’s Back raged. I had no time to wonder at Pangloss’s attack, nor his deceit in including me on the enemy list. Instead I performed what first aid I could to stop the bleeding and keep Corbin from slipping away from me again.
“It’s not real; it’s not real” was the mantra that I kept whispering as I picked out bits of wood and metal from his stomach and chest, leaving the biggest chunk for an expert. I had a nasty feeling that if I pulled it out, I wouldn’t be able to stop the bleeding.
Tar managed to find a tiny sheltered cove to run us gently aground.
“Where are we?” I asked him as I came on deck.
“About half a mile beyond the town,” Tar told me, pointing to the north. “ ’Tis the closest I could get us without killin’ us on the rocks.”
“Good job,” I said, snapping out orders to the twins. “We need to make a stretcher to carry Corbin into town. A blanket is going to have to do. One of you take the head, the other the foot. Bas, you run into town as quickly as you can and wake up Renata. Tell her we’re bringing . . . er . . . tell her we’re bringing a friend who’s been gravely wounded, and we’ll need a doctor.”
Bas cast a longing glance toward the hatch that led belowdecks, but hopped over the side of the ship into the shallow waters quick enough. I watched until he disappeared into the dense growth that surrounded the town, then got my makeshift ambulance team organized.
The trip to Renata’s house was slow and awkward. The boys had to stop frequently, and even with Tar and me helping, it seemed to take forever before we stumbled into town. I thought we’d have to snake our way around the back in order to avoid being seen by the townsfolk, but the deep rumble of guns in the distance reminded me that the battle would have everyone’s attention. The square was empty of life except for a pair of mangy dogs fighting over the remains of a roast chicken.
Renata was waiting at the door, looking not at all like a woman who’d just been dragged out of bed.
“I’m sorry to wake you up, but I have a friend who needs help,” I said, holding the door open as the panting twins hauled Corbin inside.
“I wasn’t asleep. The lads in the harbor have seen to that,” she told me, bending over the blanket. She sucked in her breath as she saw who lay there, giving me a long, unreadable glance. I returned it with one that I hoped made it clear that I would brook no betrayal. “Ye’ve Black Corbin here unless I am mistaken.”
“My bedroom is this way,” I directed, holding the doors for the boys as they carried Corbin in and laid him down on my bed. I made sure he was comfortable, then turned to where Renata stood in the doorway, Bas trying to see around her. “Yes, it’s Corbin. Do you have a problem with that? Because I’m telling you right here and now that if you’re not who you appear to be, and you try to do something to harm him, you will know my wrath. I can be very, very mean when something matters to me, and this man matters more than you can possibly imagine.”