Voyage of Plunder by Michele Torrey

Author:Michele Torrey [Torrey, Michele]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-54880-1
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2005-08-03T16:00:00+00:00

hispered orders whipped about like fire in a whirlwind—from Josiah on the quarterdeck, from Basil in the waist, echoed from one man to the next.

“Make sail!”

“Aloft sail loosers!”

“Lead along topsail sheets and halyards, jib halyards!”

The deck reverberated with the trample of feet. I heard the clank of iron, coils of rope slapping the deck, the clap of sail as yards of canvas unfurled overhead.

I had no time to wonder how many ships had slipped by, or how big they were, or whether or not they had escaped us entirely, for I flung myself down the compan-ionway to my station at the oar. Timothy was already there, and I slipped in beside him. There were twenty-three sweeps on both port and starboard, making a total of ninety-two men who grunted and strained as they pushed and pulled to the rhythm of Caesar's drum.

Overhead, still, the deck thumped with footsteps, until finally there was no noise except the deep beat of the drum, the breathing of the men, the groan of timbers, the slosh of water, and the creak of oars. The swaying lanterns cast a sickly yellow light through the masses of glistening, stinking bodies.

And with each beat of the drum, words echoed through my head. Hated words. Cowardice or deserting the ship in battle is punishable by death.…

I had taken an oath upon the Bible against cowardice. Yet I did not truly wish to participate in this act of piracy, for piracy was no more than thievery and sometimes even murder, and I was neither thief nor murderer. And never had I taken an oath to commit either. It was therefore necessary to appear courageous, fearless, as if I was born to the life of villainy from the moment I first drew breath, while at the same time doing no harm.

Playing this game, this charade, was like dancing atop a dagger while trying not to fall. And the thinking of it caused a churning in my stomach.

0 God, O merciful God.

After the Tempest Galley had gained sufficient speed, we hauled our sweeps inboard and rejoined the rest of the crew on the upper deck.

I spent the next hour in fervent prayer. Checking my weapons, the cannon, praying, praying, my prayers like a sour taste in my mouth.

Just then, Basil whispered harshly from the bowsprit, “Not a noise, now. 'Tis time for the cat to catch a mouse.”

I spied the straggler, visible under a half moon, sailing ahead of us by no more than a cable's length, seeming all alone. Even with most of her sail set, she appeared sluggish, like a plump old woman waddling along. The Tempest Galley would be on her in mere minutes. She appeared unaware of the danger lurking off her starboard quarter, unaware of the scores of cutthroats crouched behind the bulwarks or standing in the shrouds, ready to shoot anyone who might be tempted to sound the alarm.

Behind us, there was no sign of either the Defiance or the Sweet Jamaica. We had outsailed them both.

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