© 2007 by Wayne Thomas Batson.
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ISBN 978-1-4003-1363-1 (trade paper)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Batson, Wayne Thomas, 1968–
Isle of Swords / by Wayne Thomas Batson.
p. cm.
Summary: A young man awakens on an island, alone and seriously injured, with no memory, and as he searches for his identity he finds himself caught between two notorious pirates battling for a legendary treasure reportedly hidden by monks.
ISBN 978-1-4003-1018-0 (hardcover)
[1. Castaways—Fiction. 2. Identity—Fiction. 3. Pirates—Fiction. 4. Buried treasure—Fiction. 5. Christian life—Fiction. 6. Spanish Main—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.B3238Isl 2007
[Fic]—dc22
2007005580
Printed in the United States of America
09 10 11 12 RRD 8 7 6 5 4 3
TO THE MASTER OF WIND AND WAVE,
I WILL FOLLOW YOU INTO UNCHARTED TERRITORY.
CONTENTS
PRINCIPAL CAST
NAUTICAL TERMS
Chapter 1 A BLACK BIRD IN THE STORM
Chapter 2 ECHOES OF CANNON FIRE
Chapter 3 THE WILLIAM WALLACE
Chapter 4 CAREENING
Chapter 5 THE BUTCHER
Chapter 6 A DESPERATE PLAN
Chapter 7 CROSSING SWORDS
Chapter 8 CAPTAIN’S FALL
Chapter 9 DEATH’S-HEAD ON SABLE
Chapter 10 HIDE AND SEEK
Chapter 11 ILHA DE ESPADAS
Chapter 12 THE CAT’S OUT OF THE BAG
Chapter 13 AN UNEASY ALLIANCE
Chapter 14 MAGNIFIQUE JACQUES ST. PIERRE
Chapter 15 GHOST TOWN
Chapter 16 GLT
Chapter 17 ROOFTOP HOPPING
Chapter 18 A CORAL TIGER
Chapter 19 ROSS’S PLAN
Chapter 20 RAID UNDER COVER OF DARKNESS
Chapter 21 STALEMATE
Chapter 22 RACE FOR THE MILL
Chapter 23 THE END OF DECLAN ROSS
Chapter 24 GRAVEROBBERS
Chapter 25 THE LOCKET
Chapter 26 WRITTEN ON HER HEART
Chapter 27 MOSES’S LAW
Chapter 28 THE ARTICLES OF AGREEMENT
Chapter 29 OF SLAVES AND CAPTAINS
Chapter 30 THREE FATEFUL DECISIONS
Chapter 31 HARBINGER OF DOOM
Chapter 32 THE FALL OF THE WILLIAM WALLACE
Chapter 33 ONE LASH TOO MANY
Chapter 34 A MAN ABOUT A BOAT
Chapter 35 A VAST OCEAN
Chapter 36 VESA’S ARK
Chapter 37 DESTINATIONS AND DETOURS
Chapter 38 THE ROBERT BRUCE
Chapter 39 GHOSTS AT SEA AND ON LAND
Chapter 40 RIDDLES
Chapter 41 CROSSCURRENTS
Chapter 42 THE ISLE OF SWORDS
Chapter 43 THE WATCHER
Chapter 44 THE RED TRAIL
Chapter 45 THE HOLY KEEP
Chapter 46 THE FIRST MUTINY
Chapter 47 TRIAL BY FIRE
Chapter 48 THE SECOND MUTINY
Chapter 49 GHOSTS OF THE PAST
Chapter 50 THE EVE OF DESTRUCTION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PRINCIPAL CAST
DECLAN ROSS
Red-bearded Scottish pirate; captain of the William Wallace.
ANNE ROSS
Feisty daughter of Declan Ross; longs to be a pirate.
STEDE
West Indian sailor, quartermaster, and second-in-command of the William Wallace.
MIDGE
The main carpenter on the William Wallace; he has extremely bad teeth and horrendous breath.
NUBBY
The cook and doctor on the William Wallace; he has a walrus moustache and only one arm.
CROMWELL
The bosun of the William Wallace; he has a very flat face and wears one large gold earring.
JULES
Deck hand on the William Wallace; also acts as Anne’s bodyguard. Jules is a gigantic muscular pirate. He has a bristly moustache and wears a black skullcap.
RED EYE
A powder monkey, i.e., one of the quick fellows who sprints down to the hull to get black powder for the cannons. Red Eye is blind in one eye, and his cheek is scarred from an explosion that took place while he was doing his job.
CAT
A young man who awakens on an island, alone and seriously injured, with no memory. Rescued by the crew of the William Wallace, he searches for his identity.
JACQUES ST. PIERRE
Former French naval officer turned private businessman; he has a penchant for fire and explosives.
PADRE DOMINGUEZ
Priest of the Brethren who travels with the William Wallace.
THIERRY CHEVILLARD
Bartholomew Thorne’s lieutenant; called the Butcher because of his murderous past.
BARTHOLOMEW THORNE
The most notorious—and ruthless—pirate in the Caribbean; Thorne wants to build a pirate fleet large enough to control the Caribbean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean.
MR. SKELLICK
Bartholomew Thorne’s quartermaster.
SCULLY
Bartholomew Thorne’s spy and chief source of information.
COMMODORE BLAKE
Young leader of the British naval forces in the Caribbean; commissioned to hunt pirates on the Spanish Main.
SIR NIGEL
Commodore Blake’s adviser and right-hand man.
VESA TURINEN
Very old—and very rich—sailor, always ready to make a deal.
RAMIRO DE FERRO GONCALO
Portuguese shipbuilder; likes to duel.
NAUTICAL TERMS
Aft: the back of the ship.
Bow: front of the ship.
Bowsprit: long pole extending forward from the bow of the ship.
Crow’s-nest: the highest platform on the mainmast used as a lookout point.
Forecastle: the front of the ship, often where the crew’s quarters are located.
Halyard: rope used to pull a sail up.
Hull: The body of a boat or ship.
Jib-rigged: ship’s sails that are triangular in shape.
Keel: the structural spine that runs along the bottom of the ship.
Mast: tall pole that supports all the ship’s sails.
Poop Deck: rearmost deck of the ship.
Port: if standing on the deck and facing the front of the ship, port is left.
Quarterdeck: raised deck behind the mainmast where the ship’s wheel is found.
Spar-collar: (sometimes known as a gooseneck) a moveable iron collar used to hold horizontal spars to the mast.
Spar: long horizontal pole that a sail is attached to.
Square-rigged: ship’s sails that are square in shape.
Starboard: if standing on the deck and facing the front of the ship, starboard is right.
Stern: the back of the ship.
The watch: a four-hour period when a sail
or is on duty.
1
A BLACK BIRD IN THE STORM
Papa, I’m scared!” the little girl cried out as she slid awkwardly across the deck. Before she could regain her balance, she crashed into her father’s arms.
“Oh, Dolphin!” he said, shielding her from sheets of rain and sea spray. “What are you doing up here?”
She looked up at him. “I heard a monster out in the sea!”
“A monster? My darling daughter, you heard the thunder and the wind, that’s all.” He snuggled her in close beneath his coat.
“There are no monsters in the sea. It’s a storm.”
“But it’s a big storm!” she whimpered.
“No, not big. Just noisy.” But this voice was not her father’s.
Dolphin peeked out from her father’s coat and grinned. It was Brand, the young ship’s mate she’d teased since they left port. You’re my blond monkey, she’d said to Brand. And most times, he’d laugh, make chimp noises, and scurry up the nearest rope ladder or rigging. Now, the wind whipped his long hair about his face. Dolphin saw him wink and felt her heart flutter.
“I’m still scared,” she said.
“It’s just a squall,” Brand said confidently. “Captain Halifax will see us through. And the Trafalgar is the pride of His Majesty’s fleet! Now, you mind your father and go back to your quarters ’til it blows over.” And just like that, he was gone across the deck.
“There, you see?” said Dolphin’s father. “No monsters. Just a storm.” He looked down at his precious little girl. Her bright coppery locks were matted against her pale cheeks.
Dolphin stared back, but up beyond her father, following the mainmast through shrouds of rigging, past the crow’s-nest, and into the turbulent gray sky. Lightning slashed overhead, and Dolphin ducked again into her father’s coat. Thunder crashed, and the entire ship trembled.
“Papa!” she cried. He gave her a brave smile and cradled her head against his chest. He hoped she couldn’t hear his heart hammering away. “There, there, my Dolphin. Remember what Brand said. It will all be over soon. Now, let’s get you back to our quarters and snug in bed.”
“But, Papa, I want to stay here with you!”
“No, you will be much safer below,” he replied, a slight edge to his voice. “I have work to do. I’m helping the quartermaster. He’s waiting for me . . . see?” He pointed to the grizzled graybeard sailor near the mast. He nodded and grinned at Dolphin. Suddenly, Dolphin clutched her father’s leg. She stared, pointing past the quartermaster, past the mainmast, out into the rolling sea. “What’s that?”
An enormous ship appeared in the distance. It was tall, with at least three masts, and narrowed sharply at the bow. It knifed through the waves, driving toward them.
Dolphin’s father bent low and held his little girl by the shoulders.
“Stay here,” he whispered urgently. He ran to the quartermaster and pointed out into the sea.
“Pirates,” hissed the quartermaster.
“Pirates? In the middle of the storm?”
The quartermaster did not reply immediately. He stared out into the sea. Abruptly, he took in a sharp breath and went very rigid. He grabbed Dolphin’s father by the shoulder of his coat and practically dragged him back across the deck. “Get your daughter down below,” he said as they drew near the ship.
“Come, my child,” Dolphin’s father said, his voice taut. “We must go to our quarters.”
“But, Papa, the ship . . . who are they?”
“No one to worry about, Dolphin.”
“You best not lie to your daughter.” The quartermaster’s voice was flat, terrifyingly void of emotion. “That ship . . . it’s the Raven.
Bartholomew Thorne.”
Dolphin’s father felt the blood in his veins turn to ice at the uttering of that name. He whisked his daughter off the deck and raced for the cabins. He banged awkwardly through a door. “I’m so sorry, Dolphin,” he managed to say. He could feel her trembling against him. He held her close and continued running. A hundred thoughts raced through his mind: memories, hopes, regrets.
“Papa!” she pleaded as they plunged into their cabin.
He sat down with her on the bed and snuffed the candle in the lantern. As darkness enveloped them, he said, “Don’t worry, my precious daughter. It will all be over soon.”
And he began to pray.
2
ECHOES OF CANNON FIRE
Acannon shot, deep and sudden, trailed off like a peal of thunder. Something cold touched his fingertips. Another shot. Run them all out, boys!
Water trickled over his hand. She’s taking on something awful!Bosun, pitch that leak! Another shot, nearer still. Water surged into his mouth and nose. A wave partially submerged his head and sprayed his back.
He woke, jerked his head up from the surf, and flailed onto his side. His face, his arms, his back all throbbed and burned. “What happened?” he moaned, coughing up seawater and grinding sand between his teeth. He could not see. Has someone cut out my eyes? Hands trembling, he reached up. His eyes were swollen and caked shut . . . but at least they were there.
After several painful attempts, he managed to pry them open. Brilliant white light knifed in. He clutched at his face. His head throbbed, sun blazed mercilessly off the white sand, but slowly his eyes adjusted. He squinted under a cloudless blue sky and saw water. As another wave raced toward him, he rose to one knee. That little bit of movement brought tremendous pain. It felt as if there were shards of glass embedded in his skin.
With another groan, he stood. He reached over his shoulder and, between the tatters of his shirt, felt ripped flesh, sticky and wet. His fingertips came back glistening with blood, and he became lightheaded. He swayed for a moment, then steadied himself and looked around. Across a slope of white sand there stood a deep copse of trees—mostly tall palms, surrounded by sea grape and divi-divi trees. He stared at the leaning, gnarled trunks. Divi-divi trees always leaned to the southwest. That meant something . . . he felt sure it did, but he could not grasp what. He looked along the tree line, up and down the shore, and, again, out to sea. “I don’t know this place,” he whispered.
He grabbed fistfuls of his matted blond hair. His welted face felt foreign . . . like someone else’s. A sharp ringing came to his ears. The world seemed to spin. “Who am I? Why can’t I remember?”
A flash of green racing across the sand drew his attention, and he turned. At his feet, a large iguana sat gnawing at the leather drawstring of a pouch that lay half-buried in the sand.
Brushing aside the lizard, he picked up the fist-sized pouch. It had some weight to it. “Is this mine?” he wondered aloud. He thought it had to be, but nothing about it seemed familiar. Still, when he loosened the drawstring and began to pour out its contents, he couldn’t help but feel a strange gravity weighing upon him.
A sparkling green stone fell into his hands first. It was shaped like an almond, but much larger. The brilliant sun flickered within it as if the stone were alive with fire at its core. Next, a lock of lustrous red hair dropped out and lay in his palm close to the jewel. The hair was a little damp but still very soft. He ran a finger lightly over it, wondering. . . .
The surf raced in and covered his feet, just as the last item—a tarnished silver cross—fell into his palm. Ancient it looked—and not just from the tarnish. It bore strange markings and a script of some design, but he could not read it.
He dropped the three tokens into the pouch. He did not recognize any of these things. Nothing made any sense! His head ached. Weak and confused, he watched as an iguana scurried away and disappeared over the slope. Then he froze, for nearby the lizard’s trail was a trail of footprints. They wound away from the trees, down from the slope, almost directly to where he stood. A wave crashed with a sound like a cannon shot . . . or maybe, more like the crack of a whip, and he jumped.
The ringing came back to his ears, and he felt dizzy. As his vision blurred, he looked at the footprints lea
ding up to where he stood. The thought I am not alone flashed into his mind before everything around him faded into darkness.
3
THE WILLIAM WALLACE
What is it now?!” bellowed Captain Declan Ross. The pounding on his cabin door had made him knock over his mug. His lightning reflexes had just barely saved the sea chart from the spill. Only one sailor aboard the William Wallace would have the nerve to bang on the captain’s door like that.
The quartermaster, a West Indian sailor named Stede, threw open the door, blatantly ignoring the custom of waiting to be asked to enter. “This old ship will burst at the very hull—if ya don’t find us a place to careen her!”
Ross raised a coppery eyebrow and glared at his longtime friend.
“She’s taking on watah below decks, mon!”
“What?” Ross stood. “I thought Midge patched those leaks.”
Stede’s nostrils flared. “Him did, mon, but it b’ gettin’ warse.
The ship has four days . . . a week tops. B’ true.”
“I know,” Ross replied with a shrug. “You’re right. You’re always right when it comes to the Wallace. Is the wind still light?” he asked, knowing the answer already. He could feel the ship rolling heavily on the ponderous swells of the sea.
“Just a breath,” Stede answered, shaking a fist at the ceiling. “I think we may b’ on the edge of the doldrums. . . . just b’ a feeling.”
Ross frowned. Stede’s feelings were usually right too. If they were caught in the open sea with no wind and the ship coming apart at the seams . . . he shook his head. “I hope you’re wrong. I have no desire to dance with the sharks anytime soon. Come here and look at this,” Ross said.
Stede joined him at the desk. “Given the wind and the time you gave me, we might be able to get to this little group of cays.”
Stede whistled. “They b’ Thorne’s isles.”
“He can’t cover them all!” Ross exclaimed. “He doesn’t have enough ships . . . at least not yet.”
“Life’s hard,” Stede said. He whistled again. “So, we’ll make the hard choice. But we better pray that we don’t get caught ashore by that wicked mon.”
Stede left without another word. Captain Ross knew he didn’t have to give the command. Stede would plot the course. Sure enough, in just a few minutes, Ross felt the Wallace slowly turn to the south.