Isle of Swords (47 page)

But this enemy had far more skill than Chevillard's men. They used their far greater numbers and began to whittle away at Ross's crew. Having spent his last grenade, Jacques St. Pierre was left to fight with his cutlass and dagger. Pirates closed in from both sides, but Jacques was agile and very fast. He ducked under a high attack meant to take his head and leaped over a swipe at his knees. He jabbed one enemy in the gut with his dagger, ran a few paces, and slashed his cutlass at whoever pursued. But his stick-and-run method of combat only worked when there was room to run.

Jacques leaped up on a pew near the back of the sanctuary and hacked an enemy across the shoulders. He slashed and stabbed, but the enemy hemmed him in. There was nowhere left to go.

From across the great room, Jules saw St. Pierre, and he realized with dreadful certainty that there was no one from his crew near enough to help the Frenchman. St. Pierre continued to fight, but in one moment he pointed down near Jules's side. Jules looked down, saw the barrel, and understood. He kicked an attacker into the vault of green diamonds and then grabbed the barrel. He held its fuse in a candle's flame and hurled the barrel across the room. A smile of gratitude on his lips, Jacques St. Pierre dove off the pew. He caught the barrel for a split second, flung it at his attackers, and fell into one of the vaults of gold.
FOOM!!
The barrel ignited, and though Jacques had designed it mainly to produce smoke, its explosion incinerated dozens of Thorne's men.

Smoke billowed and swirled from the explosion. Many of the pirates still fighting could not see. Swords slashed from unseen places, daggers stabbed from the dark, and pistol fire laid many men low. In the chaos, Ross and Cat still held the altar. Jules, Stede, and Red Eye stood between the treasure vaults and fought valiantly.

Suddenly, there came a horn blast from within the sanctuary. The sound rang out near the window. For a moment, the fighting stopped. The smoke was beginning to clear, and pirates on both sides of the sanctuary turned to look. Bartholomew Thorne stood at the window. He had Anne in the crook of his elbow and quickly brought a pistol up to her head. “Stop!” he rasped, his eyes fixed on Ross. “You are wasting my men!”

“Father!” Anne cried out. Thorne tightened his grasp.

Behind Ross, Cat heard Thorne's voice and looked up. And at last, he knew the man with cruel blue eyes, the man who had mercilessly beaten Cat's mother to death.

“Tell what's left of your men to stand down!” Thorne commanded. “Or your poor daughter, Anne, will die today.”

Ross moved fast. He kicked the sword from Cat's hand, swung round him, and held a pistol to his head. “Tell your men to drop their weapons, Thorne, or I'll kill your son!”

“Captain, what are you doing?” Red Eye whispered urgently.

The color drained from Bartholomew Thorne's face. He stared through the drifting smoke. “Griffin?” he said, with shock and recognition. “How . . . how can this be?”

My name
, Cat thought.
Griffin Thorne
.

Thorne's brows lowered, and he leered at Ross. “Go ahead, Declan. Go ahead, Sea Wolf, kill the little blighter. You'll only be finishing my job for me.”

Ross cocked his pistol. Cat pleaded, “Captain, no.”

“I'm not bluffing!” Ross exclaimed.

“I expect not,” said Thorne. “Not with your only daughter's life on the line. You had better not be bluffing. Kill him, Ross. Put him out of my misery.”

Ross looked into Cat's eyes, then back at Thorne.

“Why do you now hesitate? Maybe you were bluffing after all.”

Thorne cocked the lever on his pistol and moved the barrel to Anne's temple. “You fail again, Ross. You wait too long to act. Just like when you lingered on the Caicos, allowing me to take your daughter. And just like that extra month at sea, away from your beautiful wife back in Edinburgh, eh, Ross?”

A ringing came to Ross's ears. His blood turned to ice.

Cat reached into his pocket, felt the lock of hair. He grasped the silver cross and closed his eyes.

“Surely you didn't think strong Abigail would take her own life—hang herself,” Thorne said. “I killed her, Ross, strangled her with my—”

Ross swung the pistol away from Cat and fired at Thorne, but his aim was off. A second shot rang out a split second later. Ross recoiled, a spurt of dark blood erupting from his neck. He slammed into Cat, and they both fell hard. Blood flowed out from Declan Ross. It spread on the cold stone floor and pooled around Cat's silver cross. And the volcano outside rumbled louder.

46
THE FIRST MUTINY

B
artholomew Thorne shoved Anne against one of the stone pillars near the aisle. She sprawled onto her back, writhing in pain.

Thorne stepped up onto the dais where Ross and Cat lay stricken and picked up the silver cross. “I have been looking for this,” he said, wiping the blood off on his coat. He cast his gaze on Jules, Red Eye, and Stede. “Your captain is dead. Do you wish to join the dead and dying, or will you enjoy the spoils of this vast treasure?”

Thorne's men had had time to reload. Dozens of pistols lifted and pointed at the last of Ross's crew. “And that goes for the rest of you!” Thorne looked into the crowd. The remnant of Ross's crew felt Thorne's icy stare fall upon each of them. “I do not easily grant quarter, but I need more hands to carry this treasure out of here!”

“I will not ask again,” said Thorne. A low rumble shook the holy keep. Men glanced furtively at the window. It was nearly night, or so it seemed.

Anne looked up through a matted mess of her own hair. She saw her father sprawled lifeless near the altar. When men came forward out of the pews, men who had served Ross, some for many years, Anne wept.

“Good . . . good,” muttered Bartholomew.

Stede looked down at his captain and lifelong friend. He was prepared to die if need—wait! Stede turned his head subtly, stared for a moment at the area where Captain Ross's chest met the floor.

Acting quickly, Stede dropped his machetes. They hit the floor with a dull clatter. “I'm sorry, Anne,” he said, and he turned quickly away from her anguished sobs. As he looked up to Thorne, he said, “I b' wanting my fair share of that treasure. Especially them green diamonds.”

Thorne's smile widened. He stepped down off the platform and grasped a fistful of sparkling jewels. He brought them to Stede, and let them fall one at a time into Stede's hands. “A man knows what he wants,” said Thorne, his voice harsh and thick. “A man gets . . . what he wants.”

Stede turned to Red Eye and Jules. They looked at him with rage and murderous contempt. “What's the matter with ya?!” Stede screamed. “Fool, mon! Don' b' throwing yer life away for nothing!”

Stede snatched a pistol away from one of Thorne's men. Others nearby started to react, but Thorne held up a hand.

Stede took the gun and leveled the barrel right at Jules's chest.

“Make the right choice,” Stede said, glaring into the big man's eyes.

Jules gritted his teeth and dropped his cutlass.

Stede brought the gun to bear on Red Eye. The man's scarred face twisted in confusion. He trembled with rage, but he bowed his head. His sword fell to the ground. His dagger followed. He reached into his coat and dropped two small axes onto the ground. He pulled a long thin knife out of one boot and a snub-nosed pistol out of the other. Last, he reached into a satchel at his side and removed a grenade. He handed that reluctantly to one of Thorne's men.

Stede nodded and handed Thorne the pistol he had taken.

Thorne held Stede in his gaze and then said, “I can use a man like you.”

Thorne stepped up on the altar and stood near the wooden chest. Another rumble reverberated through the building. “Now, lads,” Thorne commanded, “load the sleds! And don't leave a bit of gold or a single jewel behind!” Thorne's men watchfully ushered Stede, Jules, Red Eye, and the others away. They joined squads of Thorne's pirates as they shot into the rooms on either side of the pews. Men in leather harnesses returned pulling large carts on skids.

They formed lines and began emptying the vaults of Constantine's Treasure, one pailful at a time.

Cat groaned and started to push himself up from the floor.

Thorne motioned to a bald pirate with a stringy beard. “Mister Grimly, take some rope, tie Griffin to one of the pillars. Anne too— but to a different pillar, mind you!”

Grimly nodded and pointed to Ross. “What about 'im?”

Thorne gazed at the wooden chest and did not turn around. “I hardly think it necessary,” Thorne said. “But if he breathes, tie him up as well.”

“Aye, sir!” The rope Ross and his men had brought lay strewn across the sanctuary floor. Grimly ran to it, pulled out a boarding axe, and cleaved the rope in two. The first section he drew out was far too long. He walked back to its middle and cut it there. Then he yanked Anne by her hair and slammed her up against the stone pillar. She groaned and started to slide away, but Grimly sat her up. He pulled her arms back behind her in a kind of reverse hug of the column and began to cinch her tight with the rope. Round and round he went, until Anne was so constricted she could barely breathe or move her arms. Finally, in an oft-practiced motion, Grimly tied a devious knot behind her.

Cat had risen to his knees when Grimly slammed the flat of his axe against the side of his head. Cat fell over unconscious, and, like a spider, Grimly bound up his prey with the rope.

Grimly reached down and put two fingers on one side of Ross's neck. To his surprise, he found a pulse. He thought about finishing him off with the axe. After all, being the pirate who killed Declan Ross would make for a nice reputation. Grimly glanced up at Thorne and thought better of it. He dragged Ross to another pillar, cut another piece of rope, and tied up his third captive.

Suddenly, the whole building shook. Light flashed again through the window, and there came a roar like a roll of thunder.

“Captain Thorne!” a man yelled from the window. “Terrible black smoke is billowin' out of the volcano! The sky is growin' black!”

Thorne growled. He'd planned to have time to savor this victory, but he didn't like the signals the mountain was sending. “Did Skellick bring the
Raven
round? Have all the ships come back?”

The man answered, “They have, sir! Moored offshore, ready and waitin'!”

Thorne turned and faced the sanctuary. “You men!” he yelled to a group milling by the right-hand door. “Light torches, all of you!

Get down there and make ready the longboats!” The men by the door scattered.

Thorne continued barking orders. “Get those full sleds out of here!” He looked at the massive vaults that weren't quite empty.

“And the rest of you, faster! Get all of it, ALL, do you hear?!”

Thorne turned back to the wooden chest. He felt around the sides for a place to insert the cross. There seemed to be no indentation or slot. He held up Cat's cross to the design on the wooden case's lid. They were an exact match. He pressed the cross lightly onto the lid. There was a clicking sound, and the cross dropped down below the surface of the wood. Another sound, this time metal sliding against metal, and the chest's lid began to rise.

Thorne's mind had conjured all sorts of images of what might be inside the chest. The true treasure, the monk had called it. What would it be? A scepter held by the emperor Constantine himself ? A gigantic jewel?

But as the lid continued to rise, revealing the contents of the chest, Thorne's eyes narrowed. What was this? Within the chest was a kind of three-tiered rack of gold. Three identical holes were cut into each level of the rack, and three dark gray nails pierced through all three tiers.
Nails?

Thorne lifted the golden case out of the chest and held it at eye level. His face twisted in a sickening scowl. Enraged, he slammed the case against the floor. The case snapped in pieces, and two nails scattered across the ground. One came to rest in a pool of Ross's blood, and all at once, every man in the sanctuary felt his heart skip a beat. Men gasped as if to catch a breath that had been stolen.