Privateer's Apprentice (13 page)

T
wo mornings after the animals are brought to shore, we guide
Destiny
into shallow waters and carefully tip her onto her side so that we can scrape her clean from bow to stern. Peep orders me to start beneath the bow, but I have flicked off only a few barnacles with my dagger when he suddenly changes his mind and says I must help Cook and Ratty Tom catch and salt fish to carry with us when we sail to Charles Towne. I start to protest that I am capable of doing more than salting fish but then I see Gunther checking the ropes that hold our ship in place. Peep changed my orders, I think, for the purpose of protecting me. My head could have easily ended up squashed like a melon if Gunther had found a way to let the ship fall on top of me.

The food supplies have dwindled so low that the crew now grumbles when they see what fills their bowls each night, and Cook is intent on filling every empty barrel with fish.

Ratty Tom and I head down the beach away from the noise of the crew at work on the ship, walking until all we can hear are waves crashing onto the shore. Then, we wade out into the sea up to our chins to sink our nets. After they are in place, we move closer to the shore and begin to fish, using poles that Jabbart made out of strong saplings he found in the forest, with bent nails for hooks.

This becomes a daily routine. Each morning we search out a new place along the shoreline to sink our nets and cast out our fishing lines. The fish seem to have a taste for the fat brown wrigglers that we dig after each afternoon rain and the tiny crabs that run along the shore each night just before the moon appears. I have concocted a treat for them of two worms wrapped around a crab, with the hook through the middle.

We fish from dawn to dusk, taking time only to eat the meager rations Cook sends with us for our noon meal. My arm aches from casting out my line, and the skin on my chest peels off in wide pieces from where I have sizzled beneath the sun. Cook visits us throughout the day to gather the fish we have placed on strings for him. He takes the fish back to our camp to smoke some in the boucan and salt the rest. Fish has become our breakfast, lunch, and supper, with little else alongside it. A few days ago, though, Cook trapped three wild birds and a fat squirrel, which he stewed with wild onions. To go along with that, he scraped out the fat that lined the squirrel's carcass and used it to flavor several bunches of jagged green leaves topped with yellow flowers that he found just inside the woods. The change was welcomed, and though we wished for more, no one complained.

Yesterday, when we pulled in our nets at sunset, a loggerhead turtle larger than any I have ever seen peered back at me with wet black eyes. Cook whooped when he saw it. Though I felt bad to know its fate, I cannot deny that the meat, sweet with just a hint of the salty sea, made me long to catch another one the next day. Cook cut the meat from the shell and then chopped it into thick chunks, which he divided evenly amongst the crew. For supper, we speared the turtle meat with our daggers and roasted it over the fire, along with long slivers of the rattlesnake that Jabbart killed while searching for more kindling.

We have been on Crossed Island almost two moons, and Jabbart finished the new mast last night. After breakfast, Peep calls the crew together to help pull the mast down the beach to where
Destiny
, scraped clean, waits.

There is much grunting and shouting as we hoist the mast into place. A high tide helps us to get the ship upright and into the water. With Peep's permission, Cook untaps a new barrel of ale and our cups are filled in celebration. We raise our cups to the sky as the Captain offers a toast to his ship, that she always stay ahead of our enemies and that she remains seaworthy as we sail from this place. We stand on the beach with the sea swirling around our ankles and drink the warm ale, our eyes upon
Destiny
as she floats offshore with her new mast. Jabbart boasts that England's finest shipbuilder could not have done a better job nor used a stronger wood. I sense he feels a pride much like I did whenever I penned perfect letters for my father. They are alike in some ways, I think, the molding of wood and words.

With
Destiny
back in the water and ready to sail, I sense we will soon leave Crossed Island. Lightning flashes against the sky daily now, and last night I slept poorly because of the loud rumbling of thunder. Cook says a fierce storm nears. The signs are everywhere. The trees along the wood's edge bend and sway in the wind, as if preparing for an assault. And I've never seen quite so many lizards—long green ones the color of the stones in Peep's patch and tiny yellow ones with black stripes. They scurry back and forth across the sand, as if uncertain as to which way to go. The pigs and goat have roamed free in the woods since being brought from the ship, and we have not seen them in days, not since the winds started blowing hard. Jabbart and Ferdie have tried to catch them, but the animals are too cunning for them and will not let themselves be trapped. Perhaps the pigs sense that the boucan awaits them, but Peep says the goat
will sail with us to Charles Towne, for Cook craves her milk to make his stews and broths.

For the first time, our nets came up empty today. Cook claims it's because the fish sense the storm and seek safety by swimming deeper into the ocean. He says, “When nature's frightened, man should take heed.” There is worry in his voice. At supper, I overhear him whisper to Peep that we should set sail soon, before a storm destroys our ship and maroons us here with no food.

The winds make it hard to keep the fire lit, and the rain that began at dusk has become so forceful that we must shout to one another to be heard. There was talk of sleeping on the ship to shield us from the weather, but Solitaire Peep said we will be stuck on the ship soon enough. There are no games of dice in the sand tonight, and I turn in early with others, bedding beneath four sails that have been tied together and secured to the ground with thick stakes. Peep assigns me a spot near the outer edge where the wind blows rain on me, but I do not complain; in truth, there is no guarantee of shelter for any of us. Before morning the wind will likely sweep the sails out to sea.

The sound of the rain beating upon the sails and the waves crashing into the shoreline drowns out all else during the night. Though I wish I could sketch the dancing of the tall grass upon the dunes and the waves, tall and tipped silver in the moonlight, the gusts would rip the parchment from my hands. Instead, I turn my back to the wind, pull my knees closer to my chest, and close my eyes.

I bolt upright as a hand clamps down hard across my mouth. I grab at the hand and struggle, until Peep holds his lantern to
his face. He places his finger before his lips and jerks his head toward the woods. When I nod, he moves silently into the darkness.

My heart pounds as I pull on my boots. So many nights have passed since my conversation with the Captain that I thought he had changed his mind. Beneath the sails, the others snore loudly. The heavy rain muffles the sound of my movements as I pull on my boots. I duck from beneath the sail, and follow the light from Peep's lantern down the beach. The wind is fierce, and it shoves me along as if I am its prisoner. My hair blows about wildly, stinging my face; I push the locks aside and grope for the rawhide I use to gather them together, but it is gone, lost somewhere along the beach.

Thick clouds hide the moon, but the flickering light from the lantern guides me down the long stretch of sand to the woods. When Solitaire Peep rounds the bend in the beach, the light dims and I quicken my steps.

The beach grows dark suddenly, and I know Peep has stepped between the charred oaks, where the dense foliage hides the lantern's light. I enter the woods a few moments later and see him standing beneath the wide branch of an oak tree. “Hurry, boy,” Peep snaps, stepping forward. “'Twill be dawn in a few hours and there's work to be done.”

Peep carries a leather satchel that I recognize as the one from the Captain's cabin. Tossing me a small shovel, Peep says, “Follow me and keep up. If you become lost, you'll stay that way.”

Despite the darkness and the thick tangle of trees and shrubs, we walk at a quick pace. My legs tire, but I don't dare slow down. The rain is so heavy the canopy of trees can't shield us. The ground turns soggy beneath my feet and twice I stumble, but Solitaire Peep continues on, never once looking back to see if I'm keeping up. Curiosity and fear of being left
behind push me forward. I have never been so deep into the woods.

As dawn nears, the walking becomes easier. The space between the trees and shrubs widens. Suddenly the woods open up, and we are on the beach. I look around in surprise. “We have walked in circles!” I shout, cupping my hand to my mouth so that he can hear me above the roar of the wind and the crashing of waves onto the shore.

“Nay, lad,” Peep says. “We have crossed through the woods to the other side of the island. There's nothing beyond but sea.”

Wiping the rain from my eyes, I see a rocky overhang stretching from the woods into the water. It is the cliff I saw from the ship when we first came, I think, surprised that I had forgotten it until that moment.

Solitaire Peep hands me the leather satchel and wades into the water, his thin body leaning forward against the wind. The water is just below his waist when he reaches the cliff. He grabs a handful of the vines that hang from the rock. With a dozen or so quick swipes, he thins them out. He wipes away the rain streaming down his face and beckons me into the surf. “Bring me the satchel, boy, and keep your hands wrapped tight around it!”

I hold the satchel above my head and wade out to Peep. He snatches it from me and holds it safely above the water. With the other hand, he grabs the vines he has left hanging and pulls them to the side.

My eyes grow wide when I see the narrow opening gouged into the cliff's side. “A secret cave,” I whisper.

“Aye, 'Tis that,” Solitaire Peep says smugly. “And only two people know it exists: me and the Captain. Not even Queen Anne …” He stops and his good eye begins to twitch. He turns so quickly that he almost knocks me over. Grabbing my collar,
he yanks me close. “Breathe a word of this to another living soul, and you'll rue the day you were born,” Peep says. “The Captain will cut out your wagging tongue and use it for a hair ribbon. Get my meaning, boy?”

I push him away. His breath smells of the clams Cook served for the evening meal. “Get your hands off me,” I say. “I gave the Captain my word that I wouldn't tell what happens on this night.”

Peep lets his hands fall to his side. “Let's step quick then,” he says. “The others will grow suspicious if they wake before we return.” Grabbing the satchel, he turns sideways and squeezes through the gap. A shiver runs down my back as I follow him into the cave.

T
he light from Solitaire Peep's lantern flickers suddenly. He stops and shields it with his hand. “Stay still for a minute, boy,” he whispers, looking around as if he is trying to decide which way to go.

My eyes adjust gradually to the darkness. It is humid inside the cave and the moldy smell makes it difficult to breathe. I sneeze twice, startled when the sound echoes back to me. A sudden flapping of wings overhead makes me gasp and duck. I press my hand against the wall to steady myself, and I feel slime beneath my palm. Wiping my hand against my breeches, I follow Peep's lead and step around a small pool of water. Whatever we are here for must be done quickly, so we can leave this foul place.

Peep moves cautiously, his hand cupped around the mouth of the lantern. I know he is being careful not to risk our only source of light. I follow silently behind, the shovel gripped tightly in my hands. Every few steps, Solitaire Peep stops and listens; I listen too, but all I hear is water dripping down the cave's walls and the flight of winged creatures I cannot see.

The ground twists and turns with some passages so narrow that we must press against the wall to pass through. After walking for a while, we approach an incline where the floor seems to tilt upward. The passage widens, and we come to a large
space; two stone ledges protrude from the side of each wall, as if the middle above our heads had been cut away. Solitaire Peep stops and looks around. His patch gleams in the darkness. “We'll work here,” he says. Reaching up, he drops the satchel onto the widest of the two ledges, Turning to me, he jerks his thumb toward the ledge. “Hoist yourself up and be quick!”

Tossing the spade onto the ledge, I clutch the ledge with both hands and pull myself up halfway until the slab presses against my stomach. Peep grabs my ankles and boosts me over the edge. He hands the lantern up to me, and I place it against the wall where it won't get knocked over. Then I stand and brush the dirt from my hands onto my breeches. Peep pulls himself up beside me. His nostrils twitch as the smell of clay and mold fills them. “Take a sniff, boy,” he says. “Smells like the earth itself. 'Tis the perfect spot.” He looks around, studying the area, as if he has lost something, and then points to the base of the back wall. “Get to work. Dig a deep spot there.”

I open my mouth to ask why, and then think better of it. If I ask, Solitaire Peep will simply tell me my nose is too long. Besides, the sooner we finish what we have to do, the sooner we can return. Dropping to my knees, I jam the spade into the crevice between the floor and wall. The dirt is hard as stone, and it takes all my strength to chip away the smallest amount.

Soon, I've dug out a small crevice. Peep holds the satchel against it. When he sees that the hole is still too small, he begins to rant. “Dig faster, you lazy good-for-nothing!” His tone is harsh, and when I stop to rest, he gives me a hard kick in the legs to spur me on.

I lift my head and snap, “I can work faster if you do not cripple me.”

I try to hurry, but the wind surges through the cave. Every now and then, I hear a noise that makes me stop digging and wonder about the source. Could a tree have snapped from the
force of the wind? Or has lightning struck one of the tall oaks in the woods? There is no way to see out, but I can tell the storm is a bad one.

I look up and shiver. Dampness has eased into my bones and they ache. The lantern's light throws shadows upon the sweating walls. I dig harder, anxious to leave.

Finally, I wipe my hands on my muddy breeches and stand. “There, I've done a good job of it.”

Solitaire Peep snorts. “Don't be getting ahead of yourself. Time will tell what kind of job you did.” He kneels and sticks his hand inside the hole. Satisfied it is deep enough, he grabs the leather satchel, holding it up for me to see. “'Tis England's future inside this leather, lad,” he says. “Maps of a New World. Pray God these walls keep them safe.”

I draw a deep breath, remembering the Captain's words. For weeks I have sketched what I thought to be maps intended to lead England's ships to new ports. Instead, I have drawn territories that could be seized in Queen Anne's name to give England a stronghold in the New World. If the satchel falls into enemy hands, France or Spain will rule the New World.

Solitaire Peep shoves me aside. He covers the satchel with loose dirt and fills the hole. Using the water running down the side of the wall, he smoothes the edges until there is no sign the wall has been altered. He brushes his hand over the wet clay. “Should dry within the hour, boy,” he whispers. “The old blending with the new. And only you, me, and the Captain will ever be the wiser.”

I squat beside Solitaire Peep and run my fingertips along the wall. Wasn't it just like Peep to take all the credit? He's right, though. No one will ever know. “Aye,” I say. “We can sail for one year or for ten. Time matters not, for it will await our return.”

Solitaire Peep doesn't answer. His face grows tight and his eye begins to twitch. “Did you hear that?” he asks.

I listen for a moment but hear nothing unusual. “It's only the wind blowing,” I say.

Peep waits a few moments and then nods. “You could be right. Just me nerves, that's all.”

“Best we start back,” I say. I jump down from the ledge. Peep passes the lantern carefully down to me.

“Hold up, boy,” Peep says, dropping down beside me. “We won't get far with the storm outside. What say we rest here for a while before starting back?”

“Won't the Captain expect us back soon?” I ask, anxious to leave the cave.

“If we leave now, the sea will try to snatch you up,” he says. I don't want to be toting you on my back because the waves are covering your head.” He drops the shovel at his feet. “We'll wait a bit until the winds ease.”

As if the matter is settled, he sits down on the floor and leans his head back against the wall.

Sighing, I place the lantern on the ledge and sit beside him. Arguing with Peep is pointless.

Though the wind shrieks loudly outside the cave, Peep dozes off quickly. Closing my eyes, I try to drown out the sounds of the storm so that I can rest too. My arms hurt from burying the satchel, and yesterday I worked hard rigging sails to the new mast.

I drift off into an uneasy sleep. I dream I am standing by the ship's railing scooping up buckets of water. I cannot work fast enough. Black water pours over the ship's sides and swirls around my legs. It rises to my knees and then to my waist. I bail faster: up and over, up and over, but still the water grows deeper, until it reaches my neck. I open my mouth to scream and the sea pours in.

I awake choking. Water covers the floor. I give Peep a hard shake. “Get up!”

He jerks awake and looks around. He pats the floor around him, and then licks his palm. “'Tis salt,” he says, his eye growing wide. “'Tis the sea, boy. The sea has come to us!”

I shake my head, trying to remain calm. “It's just a little flooding because of the storm,” I say. “Come on. We'll go back the way we came. Look, the water's only at our knees. If we hurry, there's time.”

I grab the lantern from the ledge and turn back toward the cave's entrance. The water is heavy against my legs, but I keep moving. When it has risen to my waist, I raise the lantern above my head. Peep splashes along beside me, his bony legs struggling against the rushing water.

Soon, the water is almost at my chest. I try to move forward, but the force of it pushes me back. “Move closer to the wall and edge ahead!” I yell to Peep. “Don't try to walk in the middle!”

“Hold the lantern my way, boy!” he croaks. “I cain't see!”

I grip the lantern tighter as we move through a narrow section. Behind me, Peep walks close behind, tugging on my shirt so that he is close to the light. The cave twists and turns, and after several minutes, I stop to get my bearings. I hold the light high in front of me to try and gauge the direction we must go. In the flickering light, I see that the cave splits not too far ahead. I turn my head to tell Peep that we are almost at the entrance, when a roaring fills the cave. Peep pushes me, urging me to keep moving, but I hesitate, unsure of this noise that is suddenly all around me. As I move forward, a wall of water rushes from one side of the cave. I shout a warning to Peep and press against the wall to try and get out of its path, but it's too late. The water crashes into me, tearing the lantern from my hand. I lunge for it, but the rushing water carries it away.. Horrified, I watch as the lantern disappears. Peep's fingers claw at my arm. I reach out and grab him, trying to hold on to him,
but the current is too strong and too fast, and he is ripped away. Within seconds, he is gone. I can see nothing now except a swirling mass of black seawater as it roars past me.

“Peep!” I scream.

But he doesn't answer. A deep darkness fills the cave. I cling to the wall, calling out for him again and again, but the sound of water churning past me and the echo of my own words are all that I hear.

I turn back to go after him, bracing myself against the wall so that I can stay on my feet. I move deeper into the cave, screaming out Peep's name. Perhaps he is just around a turn, waiting to yell at me for losing the lantern. I can go only a few feet before I am forced to turn back. The water is almost at my shoulders. I push on in the darkness, one hand against the wall, and the other an oar that I use to push the water from me. With every step, I call out, hoping Peep is behind me, but all I hear is the sound of rushing water.

After a while, the water rushing past me slows, and the sounds inside the cave begin to change. I am still yelling for Peep when I hear someone call my name. I think I am imagining it, for the voice comes from in front of me. I stop moving and press against the cave wall, peering into the darkness. Then, a gash of light falls over me, and I see the vine-covered gouge in the wall Peep and I climbed through. Forcing himself through the narrow gap is the Captain.