Isle of Swords (18 page)

“I wouldn't have escaped otherwise,” Anne said.

Ross was thoughtful a moment. “How long ago did this Commodore Blake send his ships south?” Ross asked.

“I don't know exactly,” Anne replied. “No, wait, it was near sundown. I remember. The sun had just gone behind the mountains.”

“Sundown,” Ross echoed. “His men had to get to their port.

The ships needed to be made ready. Sailing time, Stede?”

“That b' about an hour,” he replied, shaking his head. “We might b' making it before those outrageous navy ships show up— if we b' going straight to the
Wallace
and put to sail right away.

But . . . we ain't doin' that, are we?”

Ross grinned, and in the torchlight, he looked wild. “I won't— not until we get our newest crewman back.”

Red Eye appeared at the captain's side. “I'd like to volunteer for this little expedition, if I may.”

The captain nodded. “I'll need your special talents,” Ross said.

“Jules and Midge too. But that's all. Stede, you and all the others will take my daughter back to the
Wallace
. I want you to sail with all speed around the southern tip of Dominica. Make for La Plaine.

If our luck holds, we'll see you there in a couple of days.”

“Ya have a plan, mon?” Stede asked.

“Part of one. We can't match this Blake's numbers. But he won't be expecting us, and I probably know Misson better than he does.

But for this to work, we're going to need a distraction . . . a big distraction.” Ross scratched his furry beard a few moments. “I wonder if he would . . .” Ross muttered. “He doesn't think much of the British either. Yes . . . I think he just might.”

“Ya have that look again,” Stede said. “I don't mind telling ya, that worries me, mon.”

“You just worry about the ship,” said Ross. “Get the
Wallace
out of here. I'll see you in La Plaine.”

Ross led Jules, Midge, and Red Eye again under the stone arch behind St. Pierre's mill at the foot of Mount Macaque in Misson.

On the other side, Ross found a heavy wooden door with wrought-iron hinges and a sturdy-looking black lock. Ross raised a hand to knock and heard an ominous click.

A man holding a pistol stepped out of the shadows near the door.

“Bonsoir, Englishman!” whispered Jacques St. Pierre.

“Jacques, you're very lucky I'm a nice guy,” answered Ross.

“Men from Scotland such as myself have killed for less.”

“Ah, pardonne, mon capitaine!” St. Pierre lowered the gun and embraced Ross. “You will forgive my insult, but there are many

English soldiers about. They make me, how you say, discomfort-able? So I have been making preparations . . . just in case.”

“So they are here,” said Ross.

St. Pierre made a sour face. “They came creeping in not long after dark,” he said. “Like cockroaches, they scurried all over Misson. But where are my manners? You are not such insects. Come inside and we will talk. I am guessing that you have not come back to shop more, eh?”

St. Pierre produced a large iron key, worked the lock, and led them inside. They passed the wall of black powder barrels, the forge, and the stairs to St. Pierre's special room. He welcomed them into a study and seated them in big leather chairs among stacks of books.

“Can I get you something?” he asked. “Wine, maybe? A biscuit?”

“Yes, please,” said Midge. “That would be right lovely, it would.”

“No, we don't have time,” Ross declared, scowling at Midge.

Midge's shoulders slumped. “Jacques, it's the English I've come to see you about. They took one of my men. Any idea where they would put a prisoner?”

“The hospital,” he replied. “There are two cells there. A man named Julliard keeps the peace—mainly when pirates are in town. Ha!”

“I need to get my man out of there,” Ross explained. “And I've got to do it fast. The British navy is on the way to cordon off the southern ports.”

“I see,” said St. Pierre, the wheels of his mind already spinning away. “But getting a man out of this place will not be easy. The soldiers are like roaches, I tell you. So many!” St. Pierre looked at Ross and his men. “But no, you did not come to fight them. No, that would be tres stupide!”

“I have a plan,” Ross said. “I'm going to need your help. And I'm going to need a lot of your black powder.” Ross explained his plan to Jacques St. Pierre. The Frenchman's grin grew wider and wider as he listened.

“What you ask will probably bring the English here,” St. Pierre announced when Ross was finished. “Everyone in Misson knows I am the man to see about things that go boom! Ha-ha! But, for the man who brought me Chevillard's wheel, I'll do it! And as to the location of this diversion? Dutchie's barn, I think. He has always wanted a new place anyway.”

Ross and Red Eye were hidden in the woods outside of a long, low stone building on the northern edge of Misson. They sat on either side of a small brown barrel.

“Can you see, Midge?” Ross asked.

Red Eye waited to make sure none of the British guards were passing by, then drew his cutlass. It was one of the swords St. Pierre had given him. Its blade was wide and unmarred. Red Eye tilted it, changing the angle of the blade several times. He stared in the direction of the stone fountain near the main road. Nothing. Red Eye signaled again with his sword, two flashes in rapid succession.

Then, finally, from the fountain came two answering flashes. “He's ready,” Red Eye said.

“Good,” Ross replied. “You put the fuse in the barrel?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Ten seconds' worth, like Saint Pierre said.

You sure this little barrel will be enough?”

“Jacques said so,” Ross replied. “Besides, we want to break Cat out, not blow him to kingdom come. Now, the question is, which cell? Keep an eye out for guards. And Red Eye . . .”

“Yes, Captain?”

“I know you're itching to try out your new dagger, but don't come out unless you're sure one of the guards has seen me.” Red Eye sneered in response, and once again Declan Ross was glad Red Eye was on his side. Ross left the refuge of the forest and sprinted up to the building. Small trees and bushes provided some cover—but if a curious guard came by, Ross knew it would all be over. The first window he came to had no bars and was not a cell at all. He was about to pass it when he heard voices.

“. . . sleeping now,” said one heavily accented voice. “Can't say as I blame 'im. I could use a rest myself.”

“Still nothing to say?” asked a second voice. Ross was about to move on to the next window but froze when he heard the rest.

“Sir Brandon, I'm disposed to think he's mute. Did you see the scars on his back, the welts healing on his head, his arms—just about everywhere else?!”

“I saw them,” said the second voice. Ross peered over the edge of the window and saw two men in dark blue uniforms sitting at a table near a large cabinet full of canisters and jars. The man speaking took off a dark tricorn hat bordered with silver. He had blond hair and sideburns that nearly reached his chin. “It is clear that this man took a beating that could render him mute,” he said, taking a long sip from a glass.

“But I'm not convinced that it did in this case. There is cleverness in this lad's eyes. The way he studies his surroundings reminds me of a doctor I once knew. When I first put him in the cell, he seemed to be analyzing every inch of the place. I'm quite certain he was trying to devise a way to break out.”

The other man, older, less fit, with dark hair and a thin beard, laughed. “Not much chance of that happening. Ha! Not unless he can knock down walls with his bare hands.”

A third man entered the room. He wore a similar dark blue uniform but was clearly younger and of lesser rank. “Commodore Blake,” he said, addressing the man with the long sideburns. “We've found no trace of Thorne or his men. But a man in the tavern said that pirates come to Misson often to do business with the man who lives in the mill on the other side of town.”

Commodore Blake stroked the brim of his hat. “Perhaps he'll recognize our guest. What say we gather a few of the lads in the morning and pay this miller a visit, eh, Sir Nigel?”

“I quite agree,” he replied.

Ross's stomach tightened. He wondered what offenses St. Pierre had committed against the British. If nothing else, there'd be a lot of explaining to do about the events that were about to transpire.

Ross hurried to the next window, the first with bars. It was completely dark in the room. “Cat!” he whispered, conscious of how close the room was to Commodore Blake's. No answer.

“Cat?” he whispered again, just as a group of soldiers rounded the corner. Ross dropped down behind the bushes and began to draw his sword. He stopped and watched through the foliage. There were five soldiers. Only one had a lantern. That was fortunate. They walked somewhat casually but came to a stop right beside the bushes where Ross lay hidden.

“Hey, Osbourne, not a bad place to work, eh?” said the guard with the lantern. He swung it about in a slow circle. “Just look at all the foliage.”

“You're right about that, Jarvis,” said another. “Wouldn't mind getting a place of me own here—me and the missis, that is.” There was a general laugh. They seemed happily oblivious. Ross was glad about that, but he sure wished they would move on.

“No tellin' when this'll all be done,” said a third soldier with a sigh.

“When Bartholomew Thorne's hung from the gallows at New

Providence, that's when,” said Jarvis. “Like as not.”

“There are other pirates,” said Osbourne.

“Yeah, but Thorne's the worst.”

“And for the commodore, it's personal.”

At last the soldiers began to drift away. But suddenly, the guard named Jarvis swung round with the lantern and came back over to the hedge near Ross. He stooped a bit and squinted. “Here now, what's this?”

Ross tightened his grip on his sword. He felt like the guard was staring right at him. The other soldiers gathered round. The guard handed the lantern to one of the others and leaned closer to the hedge. Ross tensed, ready for action.

In the forest nearby, Red Eye already had his cutlass in one hand.

He drew a long dagger with a serrated blade. He knew this wasn't the way the captain wanted it to go, but the British were getting too close for comfort. Things were about to get ugly.

Jarvis took something off his belt and began to reach toward Ross. “Well, look what I found hidin' over here.”