بخش 14

CHAPTER 65

HE’S GONE AHEAD

“COME ON,” CALLED MOLLY TO THE OTHERS, for what felt to her like the hundredth time. “Can’t you go any faster?”

They were picking their way with agonizing slowness along the rocky, wave-lashed point, trying to keep from falling on the slippery, irregular, razor-sharp coral, their legs now covered with scrapes and bleeding cuts.

Right behind Molly, as he had been from the start, walked James, steady James. But the others lagged at a considerable distance—Prentiss and Thomas, both miserable but gamely struggling forward, and Alf, far to the rear, now essentially carrying Tubby Ted. Molly had been tempted more than once to leave them behind, but could not bring herself to abandon them. Even with the big sailor to look after them, this strange and scary island required everyone to stick together.

Peter should never have gone off on his own….

She looked ahead and to the right, her eyes searching just beyond the breakers until she caught sight of Ammm, his snout appearing almost white in the moonlight, chittering at her to come, come, come. Peter had been right: Ammm had led them around the point only because he could not lead them by land. The destination was clearly the broad lagoon that now came into view. Molly assumed this meant that Peter was ahead of them, somewhere on the beach by now. She hoped that for once he would show some patience, and wait for her as planned.

At last, the terrain improved, the unforgiving lava giving way to rock and sand. Molly scanned the broad, sweeping curve of beach, but saw no sign of Peter.

Where are you? she wondered.

She glanced back at the others.

“Come on,” she called out, for what felt like the hundred-and-first time. Then, urged on by the chittering Ammm, she began trotting along the hard-packed sand, still searching through the night for Peter.

I hope you haven’t gotten yourself into trouble. CHAPTER 66

THE DREAM

PETER HAD NEVER KISSED A GIRL. He had never kissed anybody, at least not technically. Not that he remembered. He did have a memory, dim and dreamlike, of being kissed, but that was by a grown-up, a lady. When he recalled this memory, which he sometimes did as he was falling off to sleep, he thought that perhaps the lady might have been his mother. He tried to see her face, but the memory wouldn’t allow it. It felt more like a shadow, old and faded by the light. But he had never kissed a girl. He’d read of it, this girl-kissing; he had heard the older boys at St. Norbert’s snicker about it. For most of his life Peter had not understood why anyone, girl or boy, would want to do such an unappetizing thing as put their mouth together with someone else’s. Lately, though, since he’d met Molly, the idea seemed less and less repulsive, and more and more intriguing. But still, he had never done it; had never come close.

So he was sure that he was dreaming now, in this strange and unreal moment, in this weightless watery tumble, in this swirl of light, in this burble of strange noises. He must be dreaming, because he was in the arms of a girl, a very beautiful girl, with blond hair and green eyes—Molly has green eyes—and this beautiful girl was holding him, and her mouth was touching his mouth, and—the strangest thing—her breath was becoming Peter’s breath.

The strangest thing. A dream, certainly. But it was a pleasant dream, and Peter decided the best thing to do was simply let go and enjoy it. CHAPTER 67

AS IF HE KNOWS SOMETHING

SLANK LOOKED BACK AT LlTTLE RlCHARD, expecting to see him complaining under the weight of the trunk. Instead, the big man had a wide grin on his face, and his strides were enormous—six or eight feet at a step—as if…

“Are you all right?” Slank said.

“Never better!” said Little Richard, taking a step that easily carried him fifteen feet before he drifted to a gentle landing.

That did it. Slank, trotting alongside, grabbed Little Richard’s shirt to prevent him from flying away. With the contact, Slank’s arm immediately felt warm, a little ticklish.

“I’m fine, really!” Little Richard said. “Perfect!”

“I can see that.”

“I could start singing!”

“No you don’t!” Slank hissed.

Little Richard hummed instead, the smile never leaving his face. Slank thought about carrying the trunk himself, but feared that he, too, would fall under its spell, and be unable to think clearly. So instead he acted as Little Richard’s ballast, holding the big man down as though he were a human balloon. The two of them bounced and drifted along the beach until, to Slank’s relief, they reached the longboat.

“Put it down,” said Slank.

Little Richard—his feet were a foot off the ground now—gave Slank a hurt-puppy look.

“But why?” he asked. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Put it down NOW!” Slank ordered.

Little Richard reluctantly obeyed, gently setting the trunk onto the sand. He looked at it wistfully.

“Now, what?” he said.

“Now,” said Slank, sloshing around in the shallow water, “we find a rock. Here, this one will do.” Grunting, he hefted the rock and waded ashore.

“What’re you goin’ to do?” said Little Richard.

“Open the trunk,” said Slank.

“Good!” said Little Richard.

“I’m not opening it so you can amuse yourself,” snapped Slank. “I’m opening it so we can get this boat flying again, and get back to the ship without being swamped by them she-devils. You’re not to touch the contents, you understand?”

“Yes,” said Little Richard, a hurt puppy again.

Ignoring the trunk’s formidably padlocked clasp, Slank focused his efforts on the two old iron hinges. He smashed the rock down on the first; it cracked easily, and on the second blow, fell off completely. He turned to the second hinge, and on the first blow it nearly came free, a puff of golden powder shooting from the widening lid crack and landing on the sand at Slank’s feet.

One more blow should do it….

Slank had raised the rock when he heard the bellow of surprise from Little Richard. He whirled just in time to see a wooden club coming straight for his head. He dodged it, diving to the sand, rolling, and jumping up.

Pirates.

Two of them had jumped Little Richard from behind, but two men were no match for him; he rocked forward and easily tossed them head-over-heels onto the sand.

Slank had his dagger out now, its blade flashing in the moonlight. But before he could use it, he felt the sharp point of a sword pressing into the back of his neck, felt a trickle of his blood.

“Drop it or die,” said Black Stache.

Slank let the dagger fall.

“Now, tell your friend to stop fighting,” said Stache, nodding toward Little Richard, who was currently getting the best of three pirates.

“Little Richard!” Slank called out. “That’s enough!”

The huge man, as always, obeyed.

“Tie them up,” said Stache. “Use the line from the longboat.”

In a minute Stache’s men had Slank and Little Richard lying on the beach, arms and legs firmly bound behind their backs.

“You ain’t goin’ to kill ’em, Cap’n?” said Smee.

“No need for us to do it, with the tide coming in,” said Stache, nodding toward a finger of hissing surf, just now touching Slank’s ankles. “I like the idea of them having to think about it awhile. And if the sea don’t get ’em, there’s that big old croc somewheres about, and them savages.” He smiled unpleasantly down at Slank, savoring his triumph for another moment, then turned to his men and barked, “Put the trunk in the longboat.”

The men hesitated.

“Well?” said Stache.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Cap’n,” said Smee, “but some of us are thinkin’ this here boat is bewitched, bein’ as how it was flyin’ and all. One of the men seen the dory just down the beach there—it’s swamped, and there’s a piece tore from the transom, but the oars are still in the oarlocks, and it’ll float.”

“The dory’s too small,” said Stache. “True, this boat was flying, but that just shows you the power of the treasure we’re taking home. We’ll live as kings, men. Kings! Now let’s get our treasure back to the ship and get off this cursed island.”

The pirates, persuaded, hoisted the trunk into the longboat, and hauled the boat into to the water. As they shoved off, Stache cast a glance back at Little Richard and Slank, lying bound in the sand. Slank again met his eyes, but this time, instead of looking angry, he almost looked amused.

Why would that be? Stache wondered “Tide’ll be in soon,” Stache shouted. “Remember to hold your breath.”

The pirates laughed, and Little Richard whimpered, but Slank remained annoyingly calm.

“I’ll be fine, Mister Stache,” he called back. “But I hope you can swim.”

“It’ll be you doing the swimming, sir, not I,” Black Stache answered. The pirates laughed again, dutifully, but Stache was strangely troubled as the longboat, with his men at the oars, surged away from the beach where Slank lay, still regarding him with that infuriating smirk.

As if he knows something, thought Stache. But what could he know?

After pondering this a moment more, Stache dismissed the thought of the two men on the beach, and turned his attention forward, in the direction of the Jolly Roger, and escape from this island.

He did not see the four fast-moving Vs on the surface of the silver water, heading straight for the longboat.

Little Richard, straining mightily against his bonds, grunted, swore, grunted again; but despite his massive strength, he could not break the stout rope, nor unravel the knots, tied with sailor’s skill. Feeling the water lapping at his feet, he whimpered and tried to roll up the beach.

Slank was rolling, too, but sideways. His eyes were on a spot in the sand next to the indentation left by the trunk. A glowing spot, where the puff of golden powder had fallen when he’d been banging off the hinges with the rock.

He rolled over, and then again, until he was on his stomach, the glowing spot to his right and a little below him on the beach. He carefully positioned his body, then rolled toward the spot, onto his back, and…there.

He immediately felt the pleasing warmth surge through him, felt his body starting to become light. But he didn’t want to fly. Focusing, concentrating—he had some practice with this—he directed the brief flash of power into his arms. With all his strength, he pulled. He felt the rope give, then, suddenly, part. He was free. He sat up and quickly untied the ropes on his feet.

“Sir!” said Little Richard, not believing his eyes. “How did you do that?”

“Never mind that now,” said Slank, scanning the sand until he found his dagger. “Turn over so I can cut you loose. We need to stay in sight of that longboat.”

The mermaids, having had some experience, now knew exactly how to attack the longboat. They struck the side in perfect unison, very nearly capsizing it and throwing two of Stache’s men straight overboard.

Stache could not imagine what massive thing had hit them. A whale? In the lagoon?

Smee was on his feet, shouting, “Cap’n! Men overboard!”

“I KNOW, YOU IDJIT!” shouted Stache. “SIT DOWN!”

Too late. Smee had further destabilized the boat, which rocked violently and sent the little round man staggering to the side. He lost his balance, and grabbing desperately for something to hold on to, he latched on to the trunk’s end handle, pulling the trunk with him as he spilled into the water.

“NO!” bellowed Stache, lunging to grab the trunk. But as he touched it, it was swatted away from him, toward shore, by…a tail! A long, green tail. What kind of whale is that?

At that instant, the boat was struck again. This time it went over easily, completely upside down. Stache and the rest of the men flew into the water, gasping, sputtering and thrashing their way desperately back to the capsized boat.

Stache grabbed it, then lifted his head as far as he could, looking around frantically for the trunk.

“NOOOO!” he bellowed, as he finally saw it…drifting back toward shore.

Slank and Little Richard ran along the beach in the direction of the commotion out on the water. The bellowing and shouting of the pirates meant that the mermaids, as Slank had hoped, were attacking the pirates, for once doing Slank a favor. He smiled as he heard Stache’s anguished yell; that told him that the trunk was in the water again.

“There it is!” shouted Little Richard, pointing.

Slank saw the trunk, bobbing in shallow water, not far from another shape, dark and rounded—the dory! If the pirates were right, it would still float. Slank smiled. There might be a way off the island, even without the longboat.

Fifty yards out on the moonlit lagoon, he could just make out the low, dark shape of the longboat, with the pirates clinging to it. Stache and his men had the misfortune of getting caught in the current, and were now drifting toward the mouth of the lagoon, their efforts to swim the longboat to shore going poorly.

“Fare thee well, Captain Stache!” Slank called out.

“That’s MINE!” cried Stache.

“Not anymore, it ain’t!” laughed Slank. He turned his attention to the trunk, just offshore now. Still wary of mermaids, Slank was reluctant to venture into the water. To Little Richard, he said, “Pull it up onto dry land. I’ll find me another rock.”

Molly saw it all, from under the palms: saw the pirates in trouble; saw Slank gloating in triumph; saw the trunk.

Molly knew this was the moment: either she was a Starcatcher, or she wasn’t, and if she was, this was when she proved it, with or without Peter.

“I have to go out there,” she said.

“I ain’t goin’ out there,” muttered Tubby Ted.

“I can’t let that man have the trunk,” said Molly. “I have to stop him.”

“How?” said James.

“I don’t know,” said Molly, looking around. “But I have to.” She found a coconut on the sand, picked up, hefted it.

“You’re going after pirates with a coconut?” said Tubby Ted. “You’re daft, you are.”

“Nevertheless,” said Molly, “I’m going.”

“So am I,” said James, picking up a coconut of his own.

“So am I, miss,” said Alf. “I’ll take that big one, there.”

“If he gets deep enough in the water, you may get some help from Ammm,” said Molly. “James and I will take Mr. Slank.”

The three of them started down the beach. “Daft,” said Tubby Ted.

“Hurry!” Slank yelled to Little Richard, who, still worried about mermaids, was wading cautiously toward the bobbing trunk.

Just as he reached it, Ammm hit him.

No man had ever knocked Little Richard down. But of course Ammm was not a man: Ammm was a sleek hurtling missile, 567 and one-half pounds of ocean-hardened muscle, hurtling through the air and nailing the giant square in the chest with a force that would have killed some men. In Little Richard’s case it was enough to knock the breath from his body and send him flailing backward into the shallow water. He got back to his feet, only to feel another massive weight on him. This time it was Alf, who locked his thick arms around the giant’s throat, hanging on for dear life as Little Richard, weakened and breath-starved, staggered forward and went down again.

Slank heard the struggle and strode toward the water. He was expecting mermaids, and thus didn’t see the two small shapes racing up from behind and leaping onto his back. He felt the impact, then something pulling at his ears—nearly tearing them off—and scratching at his eyes, while at the same time something else was sinking its teeth into his legs. How many are there?

Slank screamed and jabbed back with his elbows, sending his assailants flying. He whirled and saw…

Children. Two of them: the girl from the ship, and a small boy.

Slank almost laughed: children. But then he stumbled, as the girl—she’s very quick—hooked her leg around his. He fell facedown, and instantly something hard struck his head, again and again. He went dizzy, but managed to writhe sideways to see.

Coconuts. Children are beating me senseless with coconuts.

Blood streaming down his face, Slank lunged to his feet, flailing his arms as he staggered toward the lagoon, the children still clinging to his back and bashing him with coconuts. As blackness closed in, Slank groped desperately for the knife in his belt.

Alf was a very strong man. But Little Richard was inhuman. Despite his initial advantage, Alf realized that Little Richard was slowly gaining the upper hand, peeling Alf’s hands away from his neck, and dragging them both back to the beach, where the giant would be able to breathe freely, and Alf would be no match for his monstrous strength.

“Hold on!” Molly shouted to James. “We’ve got him!”

She bashed the coconut hard, again, onto Slank’s skull. Slank shuddered but did not go down. Suddenly the man’s right hand swept down toward James.

“Knife!” James screamed, letting go of Slank to dodge the blade.

Now only Molly was holding on. Slank reared back, and against the twinkling black of the night sky, Molly saw a silver swipe of metal as Slank brought the knife toward her, like a man trying to scratch his back. The blade was aimed straight for Molly’s face.

She lifted the coconut and blocked the blow. The knife lodged in the coconut, and Slank yanked it free, at the same time pulling the coconut from Molly’s grasp. Molly grabbed Slank’s right arm and tugged hard. He screamed in pain and fury. She pulled again, harder.

Again the knife flashed toward Molly’s face. She let go, falling back into the water. Slank towered over her, the knife held high, his eyes wild with pain and anger. He raised his knife hand to stab her.

“ARRRRGGGGGH!” he bellowed, as Ammm delivered a spine-wracking blow to his back. Slank turned and slashed at the porpoise, only to receive a faceful of water blasted from Ammm’s blowhole. As Slank gasped and sputtered, Ammm rose to his tail, reared back, and snapped forward, striking the sailor hard. Slank spun a half circle and splashed down into the water.

Molly got her legs under her. From behind, she heard Ammm chittering and chirping urgently; she didn’t get all of it, but the essential message was clear: GO.

Molly grabbed James by the arm, dragging him toward the beach, where she figured she and James could outrun the men. Two steps from the beach, Slank tackled them both. Molly went down, Slank grabbing her by the leg. Behind them the frantic chittering grow louder, but the water here was too shallow for Ammm to help.

Molly, her face covered with sticky sand, felt Slank drag her and James roughly onto the beach. Her heart sank as she saw Tubby, Prentiss, Thomas, and Alf all lying facedown in the sand, Little Richard standing over them.

“Where’s the trunk?” shouted Slank.

“Right there,” said Little Richard, pointing a few yards down the beach to where the trunk lay at the water’s edge, its rough sides lapped by gentle wavelets. Satisfied that it was out of reach of porpoises or mermaids, he left it for a moment, turned, and threw Molly and James roughly to the sand next to Alf and the other children.

“You all right, Mr. Slank?” said Little Richard.

“No,” said Slank, touching his bleeding scalp. “I’m not all right.”

“What do we do with ’em?” said Little Richard, gesturing to the figures on the sand.

“We kill them,” said Slank, quietly. “I’ve learned my lesson about leaving people alive. We’ll start with the brave young lady.”

Knife in his right hand, Slank grabbed Molly’s hair with his left and yanked her to a sitting position. She grunted in pain, but refused to cry out.

Slank knelt in front of her, his face close to hers, staring into her eyes.

“You wanted that trunk very badly, didn’t you, Molly Aster?” he said.

Molly only glared in response.

“Wanted to save it for your daddy, didn’t you?” continued Slank. “The great Leonard Aster. The great Starcatcher. Only he wasn’t so great, was he? Got on the wrong ship, he did. We fooled him good, the great Leonard Aster.”

With that, Slank, still holding the knife, reached inside his shirt and slowly pulled out the golden locket. Molly’s eyes fell on it, and widened.

“You,” she said. “You’re…you’re…”

“Yes,” Slank said. “I’m one of them. That’s why we put the trunk on the Never Land, so I could keep an eye on it, while your fool father chased a trunk full of sand onto the Wasp. I grant you, we didn’t count on you being aboard the Never Land. And we surely didn’t expect that idiot pirate to come blundering into this business. But it’s all cleared up nicely now, isn’t it, Molly? And soon the trunk will be in the hands of King Zarboff.”

Molly flinched at the name.

“That’s right, Molly,” said Slank, delighted at the reaction. “At long last, we will have the power. You have no idea how much power, Molly. It will change everything. If only you would live to see it…”

Slank shifted forward, and brought his knife blade to Molly’s neck. She refused to pull back, refused to whimper, staring stonily into Slank’s eyes as he began to press the sharp blade against her throat….

“AHOY!”

Slank jerked back, his knife leaving a thin line of blood on Molly’s neck. Both of them turned toward the source of the shout—a flat rock, twenty-five yards offshore, its occupant clearly visible in the bright moonlight.

“PETER!” shouted Molly.

Slank spat out a curse. It was impossible! He’d killed this boy himself!

But there he stood, water dripping from his hair, his arms crossed in defiance, surrounded by mermaids, as if they were guarding him.

He had one foot on the rock.

The other rested firmly on the trunk. CHAPTER 68

THE BARGAIN

FOR A MOMENT THEY JUST STARED AT EACH OTHER, across the silver stretch of lagoon—Slank and Peter—the man and the boy.

It was Slank who broke the silence.

“Do you see this, boy?” he said, holding up his knife, twisting it so the blade glinted in the moonlight.

“I see it,” answered Peter with a shout.

“Good,” said Slank. “Now, understand this. If you don’t do exactly as I say, this knife will be covered with the blood of your friends here, starting with the young lady.” Grabbing a handful of Molly’s hair, Slank jerked her to her feet. She cried out in pain.

“Molly!” shouted Peter. “Are you all right?”

“Don’t listen to him, Peter!” she shouted. “Don’t let him…OWW!” Slank had silenced her with another yank on her hair.

“You understand the situation, boy?” Slank shouted.

“I do!” answered Peter.

“Good,” said Slank. “Then we can do business.”

“Peter, NO!” shouted Molly.

Slank jerked her head again, and again she cried in pain.

“You keep quiet,” Slank hissed at her, “or I’ll cut your throat just for the satisfaction.” He called out to Peter, “I’m curious, boy. How did you get the trunk?”

“I took it when you were talking about killing them,” said Peter.

“Clever boy,” said Slank. “But how did you get it out there on the rock so quick?”

“My friends helped me,” Peter answered, gesturing at the mermaids.

“I see,” said Slank. “So the devil-fish are on your side now?”

“They are,” said Peter.

And, strangely enough, it was true. Peter still didn’t quite understand it. All he knew was that, head throbbing in pain, he’d awakened in the water, in the embrace of the mermaid he’d saved. And, somehow the mermaid was talking to him, except that her mouth wasn’t moving, and her words were only sort of words, because they were also pictures, and feelings. Peter found that somehow he understood the mermaid—she called herself Teacher—effortlessly, and somehow she understood him, and the importance of protecting the trunk—she called it Creator—from the bad men. When they heard the struggle on the beach, and saw the trunk unguarded, a plan of action formed instantly in both of their minds at once, as if they were thinking with one brain.

Slank shouted, “If them devil-fish will do as you say, I think we can work ourselves a mutual bargain, boy. I’ll trade the life of this girl—the lives of all your friends, here—for that trunk.”

Molly started to shout something, but Slank clapped his hand over her mouth. The lagoon was silent, except for the low hiss of the gentle surf and the rumble of the distant waterfall.

“All right,” said Peter.

“NO!” shouted Molly, yanking her mouth free.

“Shut up!” said Slank, covering her mouth again. To Peter, he said, “I knew you was a bright boy. A reasonable boy. So you’ll understand that I have to add a condition to the bargain.”

“What condition?” asked Peter.

“I need safe passage in that dory, back out to the ship,” said Slank. “You need to tell them devil-fish to leave me alone.”

Peter looked down and exchanged a look with Teacher, who was in the water just in front of the rock where he stood. Then he looked back at Slank.

“They’ll leave you alone,” said Peter.

“I appreciate your assurance on that,” said Slank. “I’m sure you’re an honest boy. But just the same, I need me a little protection.”

“What do you mean?” said Peter.

“I mean the girl goes with me,” said Slank. “Your other friends can stay, but she goes with me in the dory, with the trunk. Once I get to the ship, I’ll leave her in the dory, and your fish friends can swim her back.”

“Peter, don’t do it!” It was Alf yelling now. “Once he’s got the trunk on the ship, he won’t have no reason to let her go!”

“That’s right, Peter!” shouted James, sitting up. “Don’t do it!”

“Shut them two up!” barked Slank. Little Richard shoved the two protesters back to the sand with his huge right boot. Slank shouted to Peter: “What do you say, boy? Do we have ourselves a bargain?”

“How do I know you’ll let her go?” said Peter.

“Because I’m giving you my word,” said Slank. “And if you don’t agree to my bargain, I give you my word I’ll start cutting throats here, and you’ll see that my word is good. So what do you say?”

Now the silence was total; even the sounds of surf and water went momentarily quiet, as if the lagoon itself awaited Peter’s answer.

“All right, then,” said Peter. “I accept your bargain.”

Molly tried to shout something, but Slank, anticipating her reaction, kept his hand clamped hard on her mouth.

“There’s a good boy,” he said. “You just saved your friends’ lives. Now, here’s what you do. You have two of those devil-fish swim that trunk to shore and shove it ashore right by that dory there. Just two, no more. Then I want them to swim back with their heads high, where I can see them. I want to see all of them creatures’ heads when we row out of here, and I want you to stay on that rock ’til we’re gone. You understand all that, boy?”

“Yes,” said Peter.

“That’s good,” said Slank, “because I’ll have my knife to this young lady’s neck, and there’s no human nor fish can move fast enough to keep me from cutting her. You understand, boy?”

“I understand.”

“Good,” said Slank. “Now, send them devil-fish over with the trunk.”

Peter crouched on the rock, exchanging a look with Teacher, who turned to the other mermaids and emitted a long and complex series of guttural sounds. Two of the mermaids, both auburn-haired, swam to the rock. Peter slid the trunk into the water, where it bobbed, corklike, on the surface. The auburn-haired mermaids got behind it, and began propelling it swiftly toward the beached dory.

“That’s a fine lad,” said Slank, watching the trunk’s approach. “A fine lad, indeed.”

Peter didn’t answer. He stood statue-still on the rock, his eyes trained on Molly. She, too, seemed to be looking at him, but, even given the bright moonlight, was too far away for him to see her face clearly. It was probably just as well, because the look in her eyes, as the trunk came closer and closer to shore, was one of cold fury.

But Slank saw the girl’s look, and understood it. It gave him great pleasure.

“The boy likes you very much,” he whispered harshly to Molly, keeping his hand firmly clamped over her mouth. “But he’s not very savvy, is he?”

Then he laughed as Molly struggled, uselessly, to reply. CHAPTER 69

REPRIEVE

“PADDLE, YOU DOGS!” SHOUTED STACHE. “Paddle and kick! We’re making headway!”

The exhausted pirates groaned, but complied, for they could see that Stache was right: the capsized longboat, with agonizing slowness, was curving toward the far leftmost of the two points of land that framed the lagoon. As veteran seamen, they all understood the urgency of the situation: if they could not push the longboat over to the point in time, the current would sweep them past it, and out to sea.

So paddle and kick they did, at Stache’s urging. So desperate was the situation that even Stache, tucking his sword into his belt, paddled and kicked—it was unheard of: the great pirate himself, reduced to this.

They were nearly even with the end of the point now; it loomed in the moonlight fifty yards away. Too far. None of them could swim that distance; most of them—typically, for pirates—could not swim at all.

“Cap’n,” cried Smee. “We ain’t gonna make it.”

“PADDLE AND KICK!” roared Stache in response, but he, too, saw that it was hopeless; they were clearly past the point now. He considered his options: if he could right the capsized longboat, and bail it, he might have a chance to survive. But there were ten men clinging to the overturned hull. Too many to get the boat floating again. He’d have to get rid of some.

“You men on this side!” he shouted. “Let go!”

The pirates closest to Stache—there were five of them—stared back at him, too stunned to answer.

“I said let go!” shouted Stache, awkwardly drawing his sword.

“But, Cap’n,” protested the man next to him. “If we…”

“LET GO!” roared Stache, making his point by clubbing the man’s hand with the hilt of his sword; the pirate screamed in pain and released the boat, sliding back into the water.

“Now, you!” shouted Stache, starting to bring the sword down on the next man—this time, blade-first. The second pirate leaped backward, followed quickly by the other three.

Ignoring the men he’d just sentenced to drown, Stache turned to the remaining pirates, who watched him fearfully.

“Now,” he said. “We’re going to turn this boat over and bail. You men move to…”

“Cap’n!” interrupted Smee.

“WHAT IS IT?” bellowed Stache, very close to running Smee through with his sword just to shut him up.

“The men you knocked off?” said Smee.

“What about them?” said Stache.

“They ain’t sinking, Cap’n,” said Smee.

Stache whirled around and saw it was true: behind him, five heads, and five sets of shoulders, poked up from the surface of the lagoon, steady as rocks.

The discarded crewmen were standing, chest deep. A sandbar extended off the point of land.

The pirates could walk to shore.