The Pirate's Revenge (11 page)

‘What a joke.' I laughed it off. ‘That's why you sent me to the Blacks?'

‘Those dear people. They too have no idea I am still alive, but I knew that they would protect you.'

‘How can you deceive them so?' I asked. ‘They've been grieving for you.'

‘All I can say is that secrecy was necessary. The world sometimes dictates what is possible and what is true, no matter how we might feel. I'm sorry to have caused them pain.'

‘So you are a spy?' I said. I had always known Hussein to be up to his neck in espionage, but now … ‘Which side are you on?'

‘Never mind what I else I may be, Lily. I am your father. That's all that matters now.'

‘I need to understand.' It came out as nothing more than a harsh croak. We were both fading now, I could feel it, the thirst and exhaustion made worse by this final confrontation. I had never really felt agony before, but this was how it was: a dread-deep burning pain that went on and on and only ever got worse. It wasn't just my body, though now my lungs were aching with every breath. I felt as if my soul was being burned alive, by the sun, by the thirst, by this awful betrayal of my past and my dreams.

But there was nothing else to do but go on until we collapsed. I had to understand everything, my whole life, his whole life, in the few hours left to us.

‘Lily, there is something I want to say that I have never told any living person.' His eyes were not on me, but on the horizon, as always, searching the sea.

‘It's only when you're adrift that you can clearly see the motion of the waves, even the lie of the land. I know you will understand this — you already understand so much. Diablo, of course, doesn't know this, but when he cast me out all those years
ago he gave me a great gift: the time and urgent need for reflection. The man who was plucked half-dead from that leaky boat was a different man to the corsair who was cast adrift. Other men, I suppose, might have taken their rescue as a sign from above, a gift of salvation. I viewed it as a chance to make amends. So, thankfully, did the Admiral, or I'd have been a skeleton swinging on a gibbet over the harbour.

‘I shaved my beard, cut off my hair, took an oath, and joined the Ottoman fleet like many another renegade. But in my case, I hoped to redeem myself by reporting secretly to the British Consul in Alexandria. That, of course, was before Napoleon Bonaparte took it into his Corsican head to take over the world.'

‘So you came back? But not to us.'

He smiled.

‘It's not funny,' I snarled. ‘You've been gone so long. Mama sobbed in her sleep for years.'

‘Then, one day, miraculously, she stopped crying.' His smile broadened.

‘How do you know?'

‘Because I was there, up in the hills, hiding from everyone but her.'

I gasped. Of course. ‘The Lion Cave!'

I didn't know whether to laugh or sob. ‘Mama really did know you were alive?'

‘For ages she thought I was dead, it's true,' he said. ‘I got word to her once, but it was no comfort to know I was alive but sailing out of Tripoli. Once I became Hussein Reis, I sailed back into home waters, but I had to be like a shadow. Your mother
has suffered, I don't deny it, and I have missed her like a man flayed alive.'

Even in my anger I couldn't help admitting the pain he wore in his face. But it seemed that the two people I had loved most had been lying to me, keeping me in a half-world of deceit and longing. I didn't want to hear another word, yet I also wanted my father's voice to soak into my skin until I could absorb the truth without having to think about it all.

‘For a year, I came whenever I could. I watched you and Lucas sailing around the harbour in your dory. I saw you at fencing practice with your friends in the
piazza
.'

‘She never told me,' I cried.

‘How could she? There's still a bounty on the head of Rafe Swann, and if I'm captured either as myself or as Hussein Reis, the Navy will pretend it's never heard of me.'

‘I wouldn't have told anyone,' I said.

‘I know that now, Lily. But then I thought you were just a little girl.'

‘Perhaps I was, then,' I conceded. ‘But I've grown up fast. Sometimes it feels like it all happened in one night, when I was kidnapped.'

‘I understand that you may hate me …' His voice faltered.

‘You weren't there to see how Mama sobbed,' I said. ‘I had to look after her. I had to hold her tight and stay awake to make sure —'

‘She would never have harmed herself.'

‘I was scared.' It came out as a groan.

‘I know.'

‘I hate you for that,' I said. ‘Mama may forgive you, but I won't ever, never.'

It brought tears to his eyes. He had to take a few deep breaths before he could speak.

‘Then, Lily, if we part, if you must hate me, let me just say this.'

I waited.

‘I hoped one day to be able to be your father again. I never dreamed you would stride into my life, sword in hand, with that lopsided smile of yours. I knew who you were the moment I saw you. You could be no-one else. No man has ever been more proud of his daughter than I am of you.'

I would not look at him, though tears were spilling down my face. I turned away from those searching eyes, my hands gripping the sensible and solid wood of the boat, the water below us so deep it was almost black.

His words sounded in my head like a monk's chant. I swallowed my tears in a gulp. ‘What do you mean, “if we part”?' I asked. ‘We're going to die here together, and all my mother's worst fears will have come true.'

‘I think not,' he said, slowly but definitely.

‘What are you talking about?'

‘Perhaps I should have said this before — sail ho!'

There was whiteness reflected in the dark centres of his eyes. I swung around. Bearing down upon us, its pennant streaming in the wind, was a British frigate.

I could feel the grip of my fists on the rails, my father's hand lightly on my shoulder, my guts churning with hunger, anger, sorrow and a strange elation. There was nothing in the world but our little boat and this mighty set of white sails filled with air and hope.

‘It's all right, Lily,' I heard my father say. ‘We're safe now.'

I fixed my eyes on the ship. Closer. Closer. Then it turned at the last minute with the precision of a well-trained crew, and an English voice called through the blue air.

‘Hail there! Have you sighted any ships today, fisherman?'

‘Who's the captain aboard?' hollered Hussein. My father? No. Not yet. He was still Hussein Reis to me.

‘None of your cheek,' the sailor shouted back.

Hussein stood up, bracing himself against the
swell. Even with his tattered robe fluttering about his legs, he was not a man to be contradicted. ‘Who's your captain?' he called out, defiantly.

There was a second voice from further along the ship's deck. ‘What's all the fuss there?'

‘Strange-looking outfit it is, sir,' we heard the first sailor say, ‘not a fisherman, by the looks, and causing a ruckus.'

A pale face peered down at us.

Hussein grinned through peeling lips. ‘Brownlee, is that you?'

‘Good God!' spluttered the lieutenant. ‘Where have you been, Swann? We've been looking for you all over the Mediterranean.'

He shouted at his crew. ‘Haul 'em up, and quick about it!'

Quick they were, too, so it was only a few moments before we were level with the deck. Two officers in braided uniforms stood waiting. Hussein leaped lightly across. When I followed, one of the sailors caught me in a vast sweaty embrace.

‘Who's this little sea urchin?' asked one of the officers, staring at me as if I were a mermaid.

‘That urchin is my daughter,' snapped Hussein. ‘Put her down.'

The sailor dropped me like a side of pork, and I fell flat on the deck. The blushing first officer, Brownlee, stepped forward as I scrambled to my feet. ‘Come with me,' he said to Hussein. ‘And you …' he looked at me, flummoxed.

‘I think the captain will find my daughter's information even more useful than mine,' said Hussein.

‘Right-ho then,' said Brownlee. ‘I'll show you — both of you — to the captain.'

Hussein strode into the cabin as if he owned it. ‘Greetings, Lawrence,' he said, ‘what took you so long?'

The captain, a dark-haired man with a long scar across his cheek, was struggling into his jacket. He smiled and took a few steps forward. ‘You damned fool, Swann,' he said, ‘does the Navy have to rescue you every time?' His voice was affectionate.

‘It's in your Articles of War,' Hussein teased, as they shook hands like old friends. ‘Allow me to present my daughter, Lily.'

Captain Lawrence stared at me, just as Brownlee had. ‘I must say, Swann,' he said, ‘I didn't know you had a family.'

‘We're all in the same boat then,' I muttered. ‘I didn't know I had a father.'

Behind me, Brownlee coughed, startled.

‘I see,' said the captain, kindly, ‘then let's not dwell on painful subjects. Please, be seated.'

‘We need water,' said Hussein, ‘and broth, if you can manage it.'

‘On its way, sir,' Brownlee piped up.

‘Good. So, Swann, what's your news?'

‘Our dear friend Diablo is back in these waters, with a Letter of Marque from Algiers.'

‘Ah.' Captain Lawrence tapped his fingertips together and glanced out at the horizon as if expecting Diablo to appear any moment. ‘Mister Brownlee, you'd better take this down.'

As the lieutenant scrambled for ink and the
logbook, a cabin-boy brought goblets of water and ale. My hands trembled as I gulped it down. The water was cankered from weeks in a barrel, but I'd never tasted better.

‘Go easy on that, Lily,' warned Hussein.

‘Don't you start acting like a parent now,' I shot back. ‘I'm too thirsty.'

As the door clicked shut behind the cabin-boy, Captain Lawrence nodded at Hussein to go on. ‘So that's how you find yourself in your predicament?'

Hussein bowed his head in acknowledgement. ‘Diablo knows I sent my crew after him, though he doesn't really understand why. But he fancies himself admiral of a pirate fleet now, and will brook no opposition.'

‘He still didn't recognise you?' asked Lawrence.

‘He's not the brightest star in the constellation,' said Hussein, and they both smiled again. The captain leaned forward. ‘Where are the muskets you so impertinently stole from Santa Lucia?'

‘Still on board
Gisella
, along with — you tell him, Lily.'

Lawrence and Brownlee both blinked at me with unexpected intensity.

‘The hold's full of cannon, powder and shot,' I said, my voice still husky with thirst and tears.

Lawrence's glance flicked from me to Hussein. ‘Do we know how many? What size?'

‘A dozen light chasers, say four- to six-pounders,' I reported. ‘Seven 32-pounders and a couple of 68s. There were more, big guns, but I couldn't tell what they were.'

‘Good God!' exclaimed Brownlee. ‘It's a wonder she can stay afloat.'

‘And there were wheels, gun carriages, heavy block and tackle.'

‘Lord above,' said Lawrence, delighted. ‘He's running guns into Malta.'

‘On orders from Algiers,' agreed Hussein.

Captain Lawrence's grin lit up the dingy cabin. ‘My, my,' he said, ‘doesn't war bring about the oddest alliances?'

‘Diablo's only ally is the Devil himself,' warned Hussein. ‘He'll switch to supporting the French if the bounty is high enough.'

‘Of course he will,' answered Lawrence. ‘We'll have to watch him closely — and his shoddy little fleet.'

‘He can't be more than two days' sail away,' I said.

‘Quite possibly,' agreed Lawrence, and sat back in his chair.

‘You're going to let him go free?' I asked, incredulous.

‘I think we will, yes.'

‘But why?' I said, astonished. ‘You've got enough cannon to send him to the bottom.'

‘Indeed we have, young lady.
Gisella
's sloppy shooting is no match for the
Royal
. But I couldn't bear to prevent El Capitán de Diablo from his noble and selfless act of supporting our Maltese brothers against the French.'

‘Selfless?' I spluttered. ‘He'll make them pay a fortune for those guns.'

‘Probably,' Lawrence agreed, ‘but they can afford it. My heart does not bleed for them. If the Knights had not betrayed their islands, the French might never have got across the Mediterranean to Egypt.'

He jumped to his feet and started pacing, just as Hussein did when he was plotting some new tactic. ‘But this could be dangerous, Swann. We need to know who placed the order. Who has contact with Algiers?'

‘De Santiago?' suggested Hussein.

‘The Duke is dead,' said Lawrence, his face impassive. ‘While you've been floating around in your wee cockle boat, the French have been executing anyone they suspect of supporting the rebellion. De Santiago tried to sneak into Valletta one night. God knows why. He was shot against a wall, like a common criminal. He and his son. Both dead.'

My stomach lurched. Carlo?

‘Which son?' asked Hussein. His hand was on my arm.

‘The young Duke,' said Lawrence.

Carlo's brother.

‘And the younger son?'

‘I know nothing of him.'

I tugged at Hussein's sleeve. ‘We have to go find Carlo. And the Duchessa! They're in danger.'

‘You're not going anywhere near Malta, Miss Swann,' cautioned Lawrence.

‘Good grief,' I grumbled. ‘What's the point of having a Navy if you won't chase pirates and you won't go rescue people?'

‘Do not fear,' Lawrence said, still grinning. ‘We'll let Diablo land the guns and hope to meet him on his return. But may I remind you that we have rescued at least two people today, thankless task though it appears to have been.'

‘Of course,' I stammered. ‘Sorry.'

Captain Lawrence slapped his hands together. ‘In the meantime, I'll take you to the squadron. The Admiral has just joined us, so he will want to see you, Swann, and I'm sure he'll be delighted to meet your daughter.'