The Eye of Neptune (6 page)

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Dakkar snarled, but Oginski’s face remained stern.

‘Men can become so consumed by revenge that they become monsters,’ Oginski whispered, holding Dakkar’s gaze.

The whine of the engine brought Dakkar back from his memories. The
Makara
ploughed the surface, sending fountains of spray hammering against the portholes. Dakkar could see the planks of the ship, the gun ports. He could see men moving around on the decks and in the rigging. In a few seconds it would all be over.

‘Are you a monster?’ Oginski’s voice echoed in his mind.

Alarm bells rang out on the ship.

Dakkar slammed the lever to
Stop
and whisked the ballast wheel clockwise. Slowly the
Makara
sank beneath the waves.

He couldn’t sink Blizzard’s ship.

Besides, Oginski is on board
, Dakkar thought.
If I sink the ship he might drown
.

Dakkar stared out of the porthole as, slowly, the black shadow of the ship’s hull passed over his head and the
Makara
drifted down to the depths.

‘I’ll have to be more devious,’ he muttered to himself.

He could follow them. Watch the guard and the routines of the ship. Choose his moment and slip in to rescue Oginski.

Dakkar’s stomach gave a loud grumble and he suddenly felt hungry. He realised that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday. He gave a groan. Here he was in a strange vessel, expecting to follow a ship some three thousand miles across the sea. He would need food.

It occurred to Dakkar that if he surfaced near the ship during the day, Blizzard’s crew would easily spot him. Following the ship wasn’t going to be easy. He’d have to sleep of course, but the ship would sail on through the night. He rubbed his tired eyes at the thought of staying awake and peered up at the black bulk of the ship above him.
If I can follow beneath the ship, they may not notice me
, he thought.
Then perhaps I can fall back out of sight in the morning and go up top for air
.

He looked down at himself. He was still wearing his grubby, stained nightshirt. Nothing else.
How can I do anything in this?

Dakkar stopped the
Makara
and clambered down into the lower cabin, searching for anything that might prove useful. A ship’s trunk contained some jars of pickled herring, some hard biscuits, a length of fishing line and hooks, netting, and various brass rings and bolts. A compass sat amid the closely packed equipment. At the bottom, a pair of trousers and a flannel shirt lay neatly folded. Holding them up, Dakkar could see they were much too big but he shrugged and pulled them on anyway, tying a length of rope round his waist for a belt.

Oginski really did think of everything
. He grinned, opened a jar of herrings and bit into the vinegary fish. His eyes watered and the vinegar burned his throat but it tasted so good. Behind the passenger seat, Dakkar took a skin of water from the wall. The water was a little brackish and had obviously been there for some time.
Better than dying of thirst
, Dakkar thought, sipping carefully.

For a while, Dakkar felt refreshed by the food. He restarted the
Makara
and was amazed at how quickly he caught up with Blizzard’s ship. He followed beneath the ship, keeping an eye on its huge silhouette against the moonlit surface of the sea and mulling over the events of the day. Dakkar shuddered at the memory of the strange fish-men in the cavern, their lifeless eyes and scaly skin.
Why does Blizzard have such strange henchmen?

Dakkar changed his line of thought. He didn’t want to think of the fish-men. Thoughts of them swimming alongside the
Makara
, slamming their webbed fingers against the portholes, made him peer nervously out into the gloom of the sea.

So what is Blizzard’s plan? Does he think Oginski will change his mind just because he kidnapped him?

Blizzard’s ship ploughed on through the waves and Dakkar steered the
Makara
underneath. The whine of the engine and the gentle rocking of the craft began to soothe Dakkar’s tormented mind. His eyes drooped and his head nodded, bringing him back to startled wakefulness.
Mustn’t fall asleep
, he told himself. But gradually his head sank to his chest and the exhaustion of the day overtook him.

Dakkar woke with a start. Something bumped and banged about his head but he couldn’t quite work out where he was. Then, with a lurch, he realised.

‘No, no, no, no,’ he hissed through gritted teeth, peering out of the porthole.

Daylight shone through the sea’s surface. Dakkar marvelled that he’d stayed with Blizzard’s ship even in his sleep – but the
Makara
had risen to the level of the ship’s hull. A grinding sound vibrated through the
Makara
as it bounced along the keel.

With a curse, Dakkar twisted the wheel, sending the craft back down. He pulled the drive lever to
Stop
and watched as the warship pulled away. Dakkar’s head thumped and the air tasted thick and stale.
I could
’
ve suffocated
, he thought. But even more urgent matters pressed as Dakkar realised his bladder was fit to burst.

He let the ship go ahead of
him and then surfaced. Opening the hatch at the front of the craft, Dakkar popped his head out and then climbed on to the deck. He’d been on sailing ships before and had rowed in the sea but he’d never felt as small and insignificant as he did now. The ocean stretched out, grey and rolling, all around him. In the distance, Dakkar could see the top of the ship’s mast. The
Makara
rose and fell on the great blue-and-white hills that rolled across the surface of the sea. She pitched and tossed dangerously, threatening to tip Dakkar into the water, especially when he tried relieving himself over the side. He half crouched, half stood, swaying and correcting his balance as he went. Dakkar took a few deep breaths, enjoying the chill salt breeze on his face, then slipped down below.

As he walked through the lower cabin, he noticed the cupboard by the table and pulled the door open. Rolled-up charts were piled on top of each other but beneath them one lay flat. Dakkar dragged it out. It was another plan like the one he’d seen in the castle cellar, but this plan showed how the two boats fitted together. He noticed labels detailing different features of the
Makara
: a snorkel in the roof that poked above sea level and fed air into the cabin, an auger that could drill into the hulls of enemy ships. But not all of the handwriting was Oginski’s. Another hand had added labels. Dakkar shifted the plans on to the table and a sheaf of letters fell to the floor. He picked one up. Dakkar caught a glimpse of a name, written in fine spidery writing:
Your Servant, Robert Fulton
.

Dakkar opened the letter and smoothed it out. The date stood out at the top,
20th July 1813
.

Has Oginski been writing to Fulton?
Dakkar thought, frowning. He read on:

My Dearest Oginski,

I feel you may be nearer the prize than I. Your description of the miniature pump system to make more room for the ballast is genius and is sure to solve the problem . . .

Dakkar leafed through the pile of papers. There were documents, more plans and diagrams with scribbled notes in Fulton’s handwriting. As he read, Dakkar saw how the
Makara
had grown and developed. Oginski would pose a problem to Fulton, or Fulton would anticipate a difficulty, and they would discuss it at length in their correspondence.

‘Fulton was helping Oginski to build the
Makara
!’ Dakkar whispered.

If Blizzard finds these, Oginski would be hanged as a traitor or a spy
, he thought, the papers shaking in his hand.

Dakkar stared down at the letters. He didn’t have time to read all of them now – Blizzard’s ship had disappeared over the horizon and, although Oginski had taught him about plotting a course and navigating with a map, compass and stars, Dakkar felt more confident keeping Blizzard in sight. But the plans gave Dakkar a greater idea of what the
Makara
was capable of.

He stowed the papers away securely and clambered up into his seat. Pushing the lever to full power, he grinned, waiting for the now familiar whirr and click of the engine. Nothing happened. With a hiss, Dakkar jumped back down to the crank handle in the lower cabin – it needed winding up.

Dakkar turned the handle, quickly and easily at first. His shoulders began to burn as he spun the crank round. He paused, panting. After what seemed like an age, the crank became harder to turn. Dakkar’s arms felt like putty as he turned and turned. With a final gasp, he pushed the handle one last time and stumbled back, sweat trickling down his back.

I might be halfway to New York by now!
he thought, dragging himself up into the captain’s seat. He slammed the lever and the
Makara
lurched forward.

Spray rattled at the window as the
Makara
sliced through the waves. Dakkar fumbled above his head for the snorkel handle he’d seen on the plan. A few turns of a wheel found him basking in a flow of cool sea air that blew in from the tube overhead.

But Dakkar felt the heaviness of dread in his stomach. The horizon looked flat and empty. Where had the ship gone? A black speck became a mast which then became . . .

‘Two masts?’ Dakkar said aloud, his jaw dropping.

Tiny wisps of smoke billowed up from each ship. Splashes of white foam plumed into the air around both of them where the cannonballs hit the water. The ships grew in size and Dakkar could see tongues of flame spitting from the gun ports, wreaths of black smoke choking the decks. The Union Jack fluttered from the stern of Blizzard’s ship. A black flag hung from the other.

‘Pirates!’ Dakkar gasped. ‘And if Blizzard’s ship goes down Oginski goes down with it!’

Chapter Seven

Disaster

The sounds of battle grew louder as the
Makara
surged towards the ships. Dakkar flinched at the sound of cannon fire and even more at the sound of shot punching the water.
If one of those cannonballs hits the
Makara
,
I’m doomed!

To make matters worse, one of the pirate ship’s masts had been blown apart, leaving rigging and loose spars of wood fouling the water. And, just below the surface, with blood seeping from their wounds, the dead floated, their clothes billowing in the currents created by the ships. Dakkar shuddered.

He peered up at the pirate ship’s hull. He thought of what he might have done in his rage when he first encountered Blizzard’s ship. A head-on impact with the ship’s thick planks would have sunk her, but he had no doubt that the
Makara
would have been destroyed too. No, he had to be cunning.

Steering the
Makara
under Blizzard’s vessel, Dakkar described a wide circle and headed back for the pirate ship. At the stern, he could see the rudder and the chains that pulled it left and right. It was a solid piece of wood but not as thick as the hull itself.
That’s her weak point
. His mind was made up.

The side of the pirate ship loomed over Dakkar, getting closer by the second. Dakkar’s heart thumped against his ribs; he held his breath. He could see the nails hammered into the planks, barnacles clinging to the side, and then the
Makara
shuddered as her metal beak tore into the rudder. Dakkar flew off his seat from the impact and fell down into the lower cabin. The sound of rending metal and wood deafened him. The
Makara
slowed, something thudding against her, then she shot clear.

Dakkar turned the
Makara
round just in time to see the fragmented rudder sinking into the darkness below him. He shook his fist and grinned. It was better than he’d hoped. Part of the hull had been ripped out with the rudder. The pirate ship listed as she took on water through the hole. Suddenly, the whole stern of the ship slipped below the surface. Glass windows shattered as furniture slid out. Cannon smashed through gun ports and plummeted to the invisible seabed.

More of the starboard side of the ship sank below the surface. Nets and coils of rope, barrels and sacks spilt into the water. Dakkar stared at the wreckage.

The cabin suddenly darkened and he realised how close he had come to the foundering ship. A thick shadow fell across his portholes and Dakkar’s ears popped with the roaring as, seemingly from nowhere, a huge piece of mast smashed down on to the
Makara
, punching its way into the small cabin where Dakkar sat.

Water filled the cabin and knocked Dakkar out of his seat. He gasped at the cold water as it pummelled him down through the hole into the lower cabin. He slapped at the sides of the hatch but the wall of water thumped him in the stomach, sending him to the floor. Water forced its way up his nose, into his mouth, making him gag.