Celestial Land and Sea (19 page)

She made her way to the starboard side of the ship where a cluster of men were gathered at the prow. She sauntered toward them, her ears now recognising the sound that was coming from their direction. She followed the notes of a woodwind instrument as she approached.

"Got this in France a few years back, I did," said the man holding the instrument. He had stopped playing as his captain stepped in front of them, choosing instead to point the flageolet in Grace's direction for her to inspect.

Grace had never seen the instrument before and couldn't remember ever hearing its name, but it resembled the recorder she used to play when she was in primary school, with a series of small holes running down the tube from the mouthpiece. The sounds it made were certainly very similar. It brought back memories of the hours she'd spent in the music room after school, the chaos of cellos and violins and recorders all squeaking and screeching at once.

"I'm just having a walk around the deck," she said, smiling at the man with the flageolet.

"Cearney's been giving us a merry song to keep us going, Captain," said one who was sitting on top of a crate.

"And Breandan's been bashing about on that old crate like a lunatic. Fancies himself as a bit of musician, so he does." Another sneered at Breandan cheerfully as the cluster of men mocked and chuckled.

"Leave off, I was just having fun." Breandan blushed.

They were only teasing him, but Grace could tell Breandan was taking it to heart. "Well, I thought your addition of percussion alongside Cearney's playing was very..." she hesitated as she thought of the right word ..."effective! Yes, it added dimension to the music."

"See, the captain liked it!"

"Yes. Well, I'd better be off."

Grace headed back up the deck before there was a chance to be sucked further into the conversation. Cearney started playing his flageolet again as Breandan returned to drumming on the wooden crates. Grace smiled as she noticed the other men dancing out of the corner of her eye.

"Thank you, Cathleen. I appreciate your help," said Grace as she climbed the ladders.

"I'm always happy to help you, Miss Gráinne. I've enjoyed being up here. The view is splendid!" If she wasn't careful, her smile would soon tickle her ears.

Satisfied that everything below was in working order, Grace took her position at the helm. She turned her attention to the mainsail, admiring the beauty of the crest.

As she was observing the design, an unexpected drop of rain fell onto her shoulder. It was hard, wet. She glanced up at the clouds above to meet the blue-black sky that was moving in from the west. This was the last thing she needed.

"Gráinne!"

Grace panicked when she heard Donal shout. There was a force in his voice, an undeniable fear. She glanced round, frantically searching for him. She finally locked eyes on him as he waved to her from the top castle.

"Gráinne! Over there!" He was pointing at something now, something behind Grace. She swung round and hurried to the side of the ship.

She gasped.

Another heavy drop of rain landed at her feet as she turned her attention to the telescope on the upper deck. She drew the eyepiece toward her and peered through so she could see it as closely as Donal was able to. It was even worse than she had first thought.

The ship was heading straight for them. Grace had feared a run-in with another vessel as it would throw them off track, an upset to her plan which she knew they couldn't afford. There was no time for mishaps or alterations; Tibbott's life was at risk and they had to act fast. It hadn't even occurred to Grace that they might be confronted by evil pirates.

She stared at the black flag waving menacingly from the other ship. The skull seemed to glare at her as it brandished swords in the place of crossbones. She shifted the telescope so she could read the name that was carved onto the side of the ship:

Devil's Orifice.

"That can't be good," Grace uttered to herself.

"What is it, Miss Gráinne? What's wrong?"

Grace jumped up. Cathleen was by her side now, with her shawl pulled over her head to protect her hair from the increasing downpour.

"Cathleen, I need you to run down to the deck and inform everybody that it is almost certain that we're about to be attacked." Her heart was racing, the words shaking as they left her mouth. She could hardly believe what she was saying.

"Oh my!" Cathleen gasped. "Yes, Miss Gráinne. Right away!" She flung herself down the steps and began racing around, informing one man then the next of the imminent danger.

Grace fought through the rain as she pushed on the wheel, turning it to try to steer away from the oncoming vessel. She knew Donal was still keeping watch from the top castle. He'd alert her when it drew closer.

Below the happy tune of the flageolet had been replaced with raised voices of men barking threats into the wind.

Grace had struggled with the wheel in her attempt to alter the ship's course, but it was too late.

Now she could see it closing in on them. The wind seemed to favour the other ship, the oncoming storm driving it closer and closer.

"Gráinne, what's the plan?" Donal called to her once he'd climbed down onto the deck.

"We fight! Ttell Michael to prepare the cannon. We haven't much time."

"Right away!"

"Cathleen," she called down to the girl, who was looking particularly lost as she tried to shelter in front of the cabin, "I need you up here again."

She scrambled up the ladder, her heart racing as she climbed. There was no way she was going to let her captain down.

"Miss Gráinne! What are we going to?"

"Stay calm, Cathleen. I need you to take the wheel again. I need to go inside for a moment to get something, but I want you to come for me if you see anything through the telescope. I should just about have enough time. I won't be long."

Before Cathleen had a chance to respond, Grace had disappeared into her cabin. She didn't know what had made her think of it, but she knew that it was finally time to bring it out.

She'd panicked the first time she'd seen it, she couldn't deny that. It had seemed threatening. Now, however, she had never been more thankful for anything in all her life. She lifted the lid up from the chest, praying it was still there.

It was.

Lying on the bottom of the wooden chest was the sword that had frightened Grace on her first visit. It stretched across the full length of the chest, the thin blade gently curving to narrowly miss scraping against the side panel. She reached for the handle, clasped her hand around it.

She leaned forward as the ship rocked, Michael having just fired the cannon. Grace prayed it had reached its target.

She steadied herself and pulled out the sword. There was a striking beauty to the weapon that she could not deny. The silver blade gleamed, as if brand new, not four hundred years old, as the candlelight reflected off its surface. The handle moulded around Grace's hand as the metal curved into a protective dome. It was patterned with a line of rubies running round its centre. Each one glistened, the colour of blood.

Grace stumbled as the entire ship rattled with the collision. The front of the
Devil's Orifice
had bashed into the Irish ship, causing it to shudder under the pressure. The cannon had missed its target. They were now under attack.

Grace's hand tingled as she brandished the sword tightly, preparing herself to face the fight. It was heavier than she had imagined, but not unmanageable. She charged out of the cabin and through the doors, clutching onto it. She wasn't as nervous to brandish the weapon as she had expected, but instead she was filled with a sudden sense of satisfaction that came with holding it. She leapt off the upper deck, not giving a thought to the ladders, and landed with a thud on the deck, both boots firmly on the surface.

Just in time.

The crew watched as the captain of the enemy ship swung onto the
Pirate Queen
. He was clutching onto his own sword, just as Grace had anticipated. This only reassured her that her thoughts had been accurate: this was not going to be an easy battle.

The captain of the other ship sauntered toward Grace's crew. They had now all assembled, holding out all manner of swords and cutlasses in the direction of the oncoming attack. It struck Grace as odd that there was nobody behind this other captain. Nobody had followed him off the ship. There was no way he would be able to take on everybody standing before him on his own.

He was quite short, only slightly taller than Grace, and had hair almost as long. His heavy black curls cascaded neatly down the sides of his face, his dark beard thick and tidy. His moustache was slightly curled at the sides, twitching as he snarled, his lip curving up toward his pointed nose. A broad hat rested on top of his mass of curls, its crimson colour complimenting the healthy tints in his cheeks.

His coat was ruffled red velvet, reaching down to his knees and fastened with shiny gold buttons. His cotton breaches were a clean white, tucked inside his smooth and untarnished black boots. The single gold earring in his left ear reflected the weak light.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" he said as he took a step closer to the crew.

He spoke with an affected English accent.

"Who are you?" Donal demanded, his teeth gritted as he brandished his own sword in the direction of the pirate.

"Who am
I
? Dear boy, surely you must know who I am! I am the great Captain Bellingham!"

Captain Bellingham's bellow was met with silence.

"Sorry,
Bellingham,
" Grace said, stepping to Donal's side at the front of the huddle, "I'm afraid we've never heard of you. Now if you'd be so kind as to get off my ship—"

"Your
ship?" Bellingham roared. "How amusing! Surely the most entertaining thing I've heard in a long time."

"Captain Gráinne O'Malley is the finest pirate I've ever known, and you'll be sorry you ever stepped foot on her ship!" Michael shouted, not entirely sure whether or not it was something he would soon regret.

"Is that so?"

Cheers came from the crew standing behind Grace.

"Well then, perhaps you would allow me the opportunity to prove you wrong. Men!" He barked the last word, and on cue a rush of pirates came tumbling over the
Devil's Orifice
and onto the
Pirate Queen
. The crew, only slightly smaller in number than Grace's, appeared to be of a lesser wealth than Captain Bellingham, which was made clear by the quality of their attire, but they were still clothed in finer garments than Grace's men. As they assembled they looked like the traditional pirates in the children's stories Grace had become familiar with in her youth. If she started to hear the sound of a ticking clock, she knew they'd all have to flee.

Captain Bellingham lunged at Michael, his sword drawn. Michael and Cearney took up the battle with Bellingham as Grace came face to face with a filthy looking pirate. His eyebrows were dark and bushy, his hair long and ragged. He grinned at Grace, showing off several blackened teeth.

Grace flashed her sword, the metal of the blade clanking against that of her foe. All around the ship the battle was waged. Suddenly, a high-pitched scream sliced through the air. All heads turned toward the upper deck. Grace gasped as her eyes locked upon the rogue who was tugging at Cathleen. She was gripping firmly onto the wooden barrier in front of the wheel, but she could feel her hand slipping. She wasn't going to be able to resist much longer. The sharp point of the pirate's sword edged closer, threatening her throat.

And then her hand slipped.

Before anybody was able to move, the pirate holding onto Cathleen leapt, swinging his arm around her waist at the same time, and jumped from the upper deck directly onto the
Devil's Orifice
. Had the vessel been another inch away from the other he wouldn't have made the jump, and he and Cathleen would have fallen into the ocean. Instead, they stood alone on the deck of the ship, Cathleen locked in his grip with his sword millimetres away from her throat. The pirate gritted his teeth and forced a breathy laugh as everybody stared at him.

"Walsh!" cried Bellingham. It was clear by the look on his face that this was not what they'd intended. They had wanted gold, jewels maybe. But not this...

His beady eyes locked on Cathleen. He found himself licking his lips as he studied her. Perhaps Walsh had done well after all. Without warning he charged back onto his own ship, hungry for his reward.

His crew followed him back onto the
Devil's Orifice
. Everyone on Grace's ship was too stunned to move. They had to do something. Cathleen's screams grew louder as the ship was being set for departure.

They couldn't leave without her. But if they all crossed onto the enemy ship it would leave them exposed and vulnerable, and possibly without a vessel if they didn't think of something quickly. They could all be seriously injured, or even killed, and there would be no hope left for Tibbott.

Donal couldn't stand it any longer. He knew he should have waited for his captain's order, but there a pain shot through his heart with every cry that Cathleen uttered. He refused to let them hurt her.

"Go!" Grace shouted to all her men a split second after Donal had moved. They obeyed and leapt across to the other ship, which was met with great uproar as they landed in several huddles. Grace, the last one on the
Pirate Queen
, inhaled to steady herself as she took a few steps back.

One wrong move and Cathleen could be killed. They were all now in more serious danger than they ever had imagined. Regardless of whether or not instructing everybody to invade the
Devil's Orifice
was the best response to the situation, Grace knew that it had to be done. She was also aware that the fight about to commence was going to be telling.