The Sea Wolves Read Free Page B

frozen wastelands and his haunted demise, and being brought back by that wolf of the wild. No, no, I will not die again .
    The knife had gone, dropped so that he could use both hands. He pulled for what he thought was the surface, unsure of which way was up, which down. He swam easily, confident, before realizing that he was sinking. There was a weight pulling him down, and it was one weight that he could never part with—the small bag of gold he had acquired in the Yukon, which he always kept in his pocket. Jack kicked off his heavy boots. It was so cold, the depths so shattering. What’s down there? he thought, and for once he cursed his curiosity.
    Checking that the bag of gold nuggets and dust was still with him, Jack took a moment to gather his thoughts. His heart was racing. His eyes blurred, and the cold froze his bones. Above him, he could see the dark hulls of the two vessels passing by.
    Jack pulled and kicked as hard as he could, breath leaking from him and desperation driving him up. At last he broke surface close to the pirate schooner’s stern, and it pushed him aside as it plowed the waves. He struck the hull so hard that the wind was knocked from him, and he scrabbled for purchase. His fingers closed upon a drooping line, and he clung to the rope for dear life. Coughing, spluttering, fingers clasping the ship’s railing, Jack was only vaguely aware of the dark shape that emerged from the water beside him and scrambled up the side of the ship to the deck. Hardly climbing at all , he thought, and then that shadow fell across him.
    He looked up into the dripping face of the man he’d met on the Umatilla . As Jack opened his mouth—to scream or ask questions, or simply in amazement, he was not sure which—the man reached down, grasped Jack’s jacket, and pulled him from where he clung to the rope, up onto the deck of the pirate schooner.
    â€œWelcome to the Larsen ,” the big man said, and he turned and walked away.
    Shakily, Jack sat against the railing and looked up. Perhaps half a minute ago he had been on the Umatilla’s deck. Now he was down on the ship the man had named the Larsen , and things were progressing rapidly. Only one rope still secured the Larsen to the larger vessel. Gunshots sounded from above, but the bigger ship’s deck was almost fifteen feet higher, and it was difficult to see what was happening. The captain’s port turn—at Jack’s instruction—was causing the smaller ship to buck and crash against the hull, and the sharp reports of cracking wood were clearly audible between gunfire and the crash of waves.
    Someone appeared at the railing above, and Jack raised his hand. Shadows struggled, and then a body fell onto the Larsen ’s deck. A man darted from cover and dragged the fallen person aside.
    Jack pulled himself upright, and there was one thing on his mind: getting back onto the Umatilla . In moments the ships would part company, and with the pirates’ surprise attack compromised, they would make their escape. The fallen man must have been one of them making a panicked return, and once the others were down—
    Someone laughed, and three shapes appeared from the shadows. A short black man glanced at Jack and grinned, a gold tooth glimmering in the weak moonlight, and then the three spread out close to where their ship bumped against the Umatilla .
    Someone shouted, and another shape fell from above. This time it was a woman. She struck the deck with a sickening thud, groaned, rolled over; and then the black man grabbed one leg and dragged her across the deck.
    â€œWhat?” Jack whispered. “Wait. Hey!”
    Several more shapes appeared at the railings above them, one man shouting, another crying. They were thrown down to the schooner just like the others, and the three men let them strike the hardwood deck before taking them away. One man—a prospector Jack had spoken to, but whose name he’d never