Changing Tides Page 10

  “What’s the plan?” Elijah asked.

  “We wait. They will probably send more men when Durst doesn’t return. We need more clothes and weapons. We attack as soon as it gets dark. In the meantime, see if their clothes fit any of you. If they see us, the clothes may fool them long enough for us to get closer.”

  “Would it not be easier to let them take us to the ship and overpower them there?” Cody asked as he donned one of the seamen’s garments with a disgusted grimace.

  “Not really. See, if we do it that way, we have the whole crew to fight against, even if they are not expecting a threat from the marooned. This way, we have already eliminated seven men, and if they send more, it will be a considerable share of the crew. There will be fewer men left to fight. If we wear their comrades’ clothes, most of them will not even see us coming,” Elijah said.

  “Elijah, go watch the cove. Warn us when they send more men.”

  “On my way.”

  Cody practically giggled as he finished buttoning the seaman’s ragged shirt. “I look like a child trying his parents’ clothes,” he said while rolling the sleeves, so they wouldn’t completely cover his hands. He turned serious. “We are getting closer, Devon. The ship is practically ours. Soon we will be able to leave this island, go after Blackburn, and rescue Brett.”

  Devon nodded, his heart speeding as he thought of Brett. Two weeks was a long time, too long when you were captive to such a man as Blackburn. He shuddered as he remembered Brett’s declaration of love as he was saying goodbye, and hoped he would be able to hear those words again. And more importantly… say them back.

  EVERYTHING WENT according to plan. Six more men came ashore in the afternoon, armed to the teeth and expecting trouble. Still, Devon and the others didn’t have great difficulty subduing them. Their clothes were divided among Devon’s crew, and by nightfall they were ready to attack the British cruiser.

  They hopped into the two long boats and rowed calmly toward the ship. The sentries spotted them, but as predicted, seeing the familiar uniforms and clothes, let them approach. They moved swiftly, going after the sentries first and knocking them unconscious, then the seamen still wandering the decks, the ones sleeping in the crew quarters, and finally the officers’ cabins.

  Two hours later, they had the British locked in the hold and were on course to Jamaica. Captain Hall and his crew were back.

  ON THEIR fourth day at sea, a day after releasing the cruiser’s crew as promised, they spotted the Skull.

  Devon coldly studied their formidable adversary. With its fifteen hundred tons of impressive bulk and its numerous artilleries, he knew they were in for a fight. The British cruiser was a good ship, fast, but would not be able to withstand much punishment.

  Devon took a deep breath, trying to control his heartbeat. He wanted nothing more than to open fire on the other ship. But as desperate as he was to catch Blackburn, Devon couldn’t risk Brett getting hurt in the resulting melee.

  “What are you planning?” Cody asked, a slight quiver in his voice betraying his anxiety.

  As fierce and determined as Cody was, sometimes it was easy for Devon to forget just how new to this whole life he was.

  “They have got more firepower than we do. And I don’t want to jeopardize Brett’s life, or ours, for that matter.”

  “We could keep following them, wait until dark, and then use the cutters to overtake their ship,” Cody said. “Maybe they won’t spot us until it’s too late.”

  Devon grinned at him. “We will make a pirate out of you yet.”

  Suddenly, there was a flash of light from Blackburn’s ship, and seconds later a large cannonball whistled through the cruiser’s masts.

  “They have seen us, Captain,” John shouted.

  Devon closed his eyes for a moment, sending a silent apology to Brett. Knowing they had to return fire or be destroyed, he turned to his men.

  “Battle stations.” Devon watched the men rush below deck to take their positions while the artillerymen aimed the cannons and firelocks. “Fire,” he ordered.

  One of the men nodded, firing a single shot. The cannonball smashed through the gangway of the enemy bridge, snapping the flagpole in two on its way.

  But Blackburn was not so easily defeated. In that instant, the Skull seemed to catch fire. A hurricane of steel whizzed through the air and struck the cruiser, fracturing its masts and creating chaos aboard.

  “Damn it. Elijah, move us closer, quick. Our only chance is to flank and board them.”

  “Aye, Captain!”

  The cruiser sailed closer and was quickly hit by a second volley of fire that sent wood, cannon parts, and debris flying. An infernal cacophony of gunfire erupted, both sides matching shot for shot, cannonball for cannonball.

  Both crews, bent upon victory, could hardly see each other, engulfed as they were by immense clouds of smoke that stubbornly clung to all decks, but they continued to fight with equal furor, as fire was met with fire and discharges by more discharges.

  The Skull might have had the advantage of its great bulk and massive artillery, but Devon’s men were leading the attack, refusing to give up the fight. Riddled with holes, sails shredded, and now almost completely unrecognizable, they continued to fire, despite being subjected to an incessant hail of cannonballs.

  In spite of everything, Elijah managed to maneuver the ships side by side. A wild cry of victory was heard throughout the cruiser, the men wanting nothing more than to get on board the other ship. The grappling hooks were hurled and the battle proceeded, only this time face-to-face with the enemy.

  “Attack,” Devon shouted, jumping over the bulwarks and landing on Blackburn’s deck, already looking for the man.

  The air was suddenly filled with a different kind of noise—the distinctive sound of blades clashing together as men from both crews fought for their lives, skillfully engaging in swordplay.

  “Captain Hall,” his nemesis drawled from behind him. “You never cease to amaze me.”

  Devon slowly turned to face Blackburn, sword already in hand. “As you see, I’m still very much alive. You, on the other hand… will not be for long,” he said angrily, as he thrust forward.

  Blackburn dodged, blocking his stroke. They were facing each other, spinning in a slow circle, feinting, teasing, and learning about the other, the tiniest movement countered.

  “Enough fun. Time to die, Hall,” Blackburn said with a grin.

  Their swords crossed, then again and again, the sound from the blades coming so fast it was almost continuous. Devon pressed on, making Blackburn retreat. They were almost flying across the deck, never losing balance, never coming close to stumbling, paying no mind to the men fighting all around them; the battle raged on, first one and then the other gaining the advantage.

  Devon was fighting furiously, ducking and feinting and thrusting, escaping by inches as Blackburn’s sword slashed the air painfully close to his left arm. He felt Blackburn gaining on him, forcing him back, seeming to gain strength as the duel advanced.

  “Where’s Brett? What have you done to him?” Devon asked as he was pushed against one of the masts.

  Blackburn laughed evilly. “Would you like to know? Stay alive and find out!”

  Suddenly thinking of Brett at the hands of the man, Devon felt a surge of power and went into a fierce attack, striking with deadly precision, easily driving Blackburn back, landing blow after blow, slash after slash, until Blackburn was bleeding from several cuts.

  “Die,” he said in a breath, attacking in earnest.

  He drove for Blackburn’s left shoulder, thrusting successfully. Then another move and his blade entered the man’s right shoulder; always striking, always moving forward. And then, almost too fast for the eye to follow, the sword struck one final time, and Blackburn cried out as he was unable to parry and Devon’s blade plunged clear through him.

  They stood frozen for a moment, their eyes locked, Blackburn’s reflecting pain and fear, Devon’s reflecting venge
ance. Then he withdrew his sword, and Blackburn collapsed, dead on the ground.

  Devon leaned against the mast, panting for breath, staring down at Blackburn’s ashen features, the blood still pouring from the multiple cuts, his eyes bulging wide but no longer seeing. Devon had finally won.

  IT WAS unbelievably easy after that. Seeing their captain was dead, Blackburn’s few remaining men surrendered their weapons.

  Devon regarded his captives. “Where’s Brett Campbell? Is he still alive?” His questions were met with angry silence. “Talk and you will be allowed to board the British cruiser and sail away. Keep silent and die.” When none of the men said anything, Devon clenched his jaw. “You leave me no choice,” he said, hand gripping his sword.

  One of the men shifted slightly. “Wait!” he said, ignoring the furious cursing from the men surrounding him. “Were you serious? About letting us go?”

  “I was. As long as you don’t show your faces in the Caribbean Sea again, I don’t really care about you either way. Again, is Brett Campbell alive?”

  The man nodded. “Yes, but… he’s not well. Blackburn hasn’t been kind to him.”

  Devon ignored the frantic beating of his heart at the news. “Where is he?”

  “In the hold.”

  Devon looked at John. “Make sure these men get on the cruiser. If they make one wrong move, kill them; otherwise let them go. Elijah, Cody, with me.”

  Devon rushed to the hold and gasped at the sight before him. An extremely frail-looking Brett was lying on the dirty floor of the hold. Brett had lost weight he couldn’t afford to lose, his pallor was frightening, and he looked haggard and weak beyond belief.

  “My Lord,” Elijah whispered.

  Devon knelt and gently gathered Brett in his arms. “Brett?” he said softly, feeling the slight trembling in Brett’s body. “He is freezing, Elijah. What the hell has that depraved animal done to him?”

  Elijah shook his head despondently. “I don’t know. We have to try and wake him.”

  “Brett? Brett, wake up.” Devon patted the pale face tenderly. “Brett?”

  Brett groaned, snuggling up against Devon. “Cold…,” he muttered.

  “Brett, I need you to open your eyes for me,” Devon pleaded. “Come on, Brett.”

  “No…,” Brett whispered in a nearly nonexistent voice.

  “Yes, Brett. Do it for me, come on.”

  Brett sighed gently, and then slowly opened his eyes, blinking sleepily up at Devon. He looked at Devon for a long time and began to chuckle weakly.

  “What are you laughing at?” Devon asked, confused.

  “Hallucination,” Brett said in a breath. “You are a hallucination.”

  Devon shook his head. “I’m not a hallucination, Brett. I know Blackburn told you that we were dead, but we managed to escape from the cave.”

  Brett looked up. “You did?”

  “Yes, we did,” Cody said, voice trembling, and Brett turned his head to look at him, then at Elijah.

  He turned his focus back to Devon, raising a trembling hand to brush over his face. Devon held Brett’s hand up with his own, pressing it against his cheek firmly. “I’m alive,” Devon said.

  “You are really here?” Brett said, so softly Devon had to strain to hear. “You did not die?”

  “We are really here. We did not die. Believe me, Brett. And Blackburn is dead. He will never hurt you again.”

  “Oh Lord,” Brett said, struggling to wrap his arms around Devon’s neck.

  Devon held him tighter, pulling him closer to him. “It’s all right, Brett. You are going to be fine.”

  “I’m so tired…,” Brett whispered against his neck.

  “Brett, I need you to stay awake,” Elijah said. “I have to ask you a few questions.”

  Devon felt Brett nodding, so he manhandled him gently until Brett could look at Elijah.

  “What are you feeling?” Elijah asked softly.

  “Cold… fatigued….”

  “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

  “Been without food for—” Brett frowned, and then looked up at Devon. “How long… the cave?”

  “You haven’t had anything to eat since the day we found the treasure?” Cody asked, looking horrified. “Why?”

  “When he told me what he had done….” Brett sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against Devon’s chest. “I nearly killed him. Took four of his men to get me away from him.”

  “So that is why he decided to starve you to death?” Devon said, feeling furious anew. Blackburn had died far too quickly.

  “I would not say yes…,” Brett said weakly. He looked up again, obviously trying hard to focus on Devon’s face. “I could not keep my part of the deal, did not let him…. I couldn’t betray you.” He tilted his head to the side. “Are you still upset with me?”

  “Lord, Brett,” Devon said brokenly, resting his forehead against Brett’s. “I was not upset with you. I was angry, but not at you. I was angry at me. I made you a promise that he would not get near you, would not hurt you again, and I could not keep my word.”

  “Devon,” Elijah interrupted gently. “You can do this later. Right now, Brett needs to be taken somewhere comfortable, like one of the cabins. And we need to find him something light to eat. Brett, have you been in here all this time?”

  “Yes.”

  Elijah exhaled softly. “All right. I need something to cover his eyes. There is not enough light here to see properly, and after so long, the light from the sun will hurt his eyes.”

  Cody offered Elijah a small scarf he usually wore around his neck. “Here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll find the galley, see if there’s any fruit or at least something I can use to make a broth,” Cody said, rushing out.

  “I’m going to find him something warm to wear. Until the food begins to work, he will continue to feel cold. Devon, you think you can carry him to the captain’s quarters?” Elijah asked, once the scarf was in place.

  Devon nodded, then carried the far too frail body to Blackburn’s cabin and laid him down gently on the bed. He sat by Brett’s side.

  Elijah returned with a heavy coat, which Devon helped Brett don, smiling at Brett’s contented sigh as he finally felt warm enough. Devon hovered protectively as Elijah began to examine Brett thoroughly.

  Cody walked in carrying a cup filled with freshly made broth.

  “It was already on,” he said. “All I had to do was wait a few minutes for it to finish brewing.”

  Devon nodded. “Thank you, Cody.” He reached for the cup and then waited until Elijah placed Brett nestled against him to raise it to Brett’s lips. “Brett, I need you to open your mouth. I have some broth here for you.”

  Brett obeyed, taking slow, careful sips until the cup was almost empty. He shook his head, refusing to take more, and Devon looked at Elijah.

  Elijah smiled. “He did good. It will do for now. Lay him down and let him sleep for a while. We will give him more every few hours. He can’t eat too much or he will be sick.”

  Devon adjusted Brett’s position until he was lying back on the bed, removing the blindfold and covering him tenderly with the blankets. He brushed a few strands of unruly hair from Brett’s forehead, then turned to the others.

  “Have John set a course for the nearest island. This ship might not have suffered too much damage, but it still needs repairs. Do whatever you can now. Leave the rest for when we get there. And clean the ship.”

  “What do we do with the bodies?” Elijah asked.

  “Throw them overboard,” Devon said, his eyes flashing dangerously.

  IT TOOK them two days to limp to the closest island, and as soon as they set anchor, the men set to work feverishly. They were all capable seamen, and several skilled carpenters and ship builders could also be found among their ranks. It took them three days to raise two new masts, reinforce the bulwarks, seal all the holes, and repair the rigging, having had an abundance of cables, ch
ains, and ropes on board. By the end of the week, not only could the ship set sail but also engage in battle once again, for new barricades made of tree trunks had been erected to protect the cannons and firelocks.

  The ship’s name had also been changed. Devon refused to let such a magnificent ship carry the name Skull, so he renamed her Destiny. It seemed fitting somehow, after all they had been through in the last months.

  They were now gathered in the main cabin, trying to decide their future. Brett was sitting on the bed, much to Devon’s relief, looking alert and much healthier. Against Elijah’s orders, he had already been walking about the ship, if only for a few minutes at a time. Devon grinned ruefully. Brett was nothing if not stubborn, confronting even his own physical needs.

  “So we still have the treasure, which means we are once again rich beyond our wildest dreams, and we have a more or less new ship, the Destiny,” Cody said. “Now what?”

  “For now, we set sail to Tortuga. And we keep doing what we have been doing so far,” Devon said. “Blackburn might be dead, but we still have the governor to fight against. Now, after the last few weeks, I think everyone deserves a little time ashore. When we reach Tortuga, take the crew and go. I’ll stay here with Brett.”

  “I want to go as well,” Brett said.

  “No, you do not,” Devon said sweetly. “You are staying here.”

  Brett glared at him but remained silent as the others exited the cabin to give them some privacy. “Why can’t I go ashore with the others?” he finally asked.

  Devon sighed. “You know why, Brett. It has only been a week. You are still too weak to walk around town. Even if they went to the tavern, it would take too much out of you, and until you are well, Elijah said you can’t drink. What would you do, spend the afternoon watching them?”

  Brett exhaled softly. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”

  “You are tired of being locked up. I know. But, Brett, you have barely moved for the last month. From what you told us, Blackburn only allowed you to walk a few minutes each day. And you are still weak from malnutrition. You have to be patient.”