Voyage of Plunder Read Free Page B

no more.
    I wanted to stay in the darkness forever. A numbing darkness that knew no pain. A darkness that remembered only sitting on my father's lap, listening to the whispers, treasures locked in my hand.
    Whenever the light threatened, I fled to the comfort of darkness, pulling it over me like a blanket. For with the light came knowledge. And I did not want to know. Not now. Not ever.
    I don't know how long I stayed in the darkness. A few hours. A day. A week. It seemed only a moment. It seemed forever.
    Then it was gone, like the tide receding, leaving me stranded.
    And I was back in the light…
    I lay on a bed in a cabin. A single candle's flame shone from a hanging lantern. It swayed with the movement of the ship. Iknew immediately that I was not aboard the
Gray Pearl.
If I had been, I would have been dead, and I was not. Sadly, I was not. For wherever the
Gray Pearl
was, ashes scattered across the ocean, there also was my father. I longed to be with him. To have him back. To be anywhere except where I was now.
    Beneath the lantern sat a man. He was the man who had pulled the trigger and killed my father. He was tall—even though he was sitting in the chair, I could tell that. He smoked a long pipe, and his hands were rough, callused, crisscrossed with scars. Grime edged his fingernails. His hair was plaited, bound with a strip of leather. He had a long, pale face, and as he smoked he watched me, his eyes pools of black in the candlelight. “You are awake,” he said softly.
    I said nothing, remembering.
    “Hungry?” He pointed to a platter heaped with food. Steam rose in wispy curls. I smelled meat and spices and saw biscuits piled on the side.
    I would have liked to turn away from the food. But he was right. I was hungry. Since boarding the
Gray Pearl
in Boston, I had vomited almost everything I had eaten. My stomach now felt like a cave. My limbs shook and my mouth watered. Slowly, I rose from the bed and sat at the table as far away from him as I could. I pulled the platter toward me and ate with my fingers. It burned my fingers and mouth, but I did not care.
    “Something to drink?” He must have taken my silence for a yes, because he filled a goblet with a golden liquid. “It will make you feel better.” He pushed it toward me across the table.
    It was rum. Fumes swirled up my nose, and my eyes welled with tears. It burned my throat. I choked and gasped, and droplets flew. But I didn't care, and drank again.
    He smiled. His teeth were straight, even, and white—a beautiful smile. It was unsettling, and so I looked away, swallowing.
    “You always had a hearty appetite, Daniel, my boy.”
    I chewed louder, wishing to drown out the sound of his voice, wishing he would go away. For a while I ate in silence, the rum's warmth spreading through my body like blood dropped in water.
    “You've grown.” His voice was smooth, silklike. How I had always loved his voice.
    I stuffed more food in my mouth and shut my eyes, stomach burning, wondering if I still had my dagger.
    “I'm sorry. Really, I am. Forgive me, Daniel.”
    I opened my eyes and stared at him, stupidly. My head spun just a little. My mouth was stuffed with food. And then I began to laugh. It was a hysterical laugh, shrill and crazy-sounding. It burst out of me like poison. Food spilled out of my mouth and plopped onto my chest. I bumped my goblet with my elbow. Rum spread over the table and onto my lap. The goblet rolled to the floor with a clatter.
    He stood, looking exactly as I remembered him. He moved toward the door, and then paused before opening it. “I did not know you were aboard. Believe me. It was the last thing I wanted you to see.” Then he left, shutting the door behind him.
    For a moment I just sat there, staring at the door, rum puddling on my lap. Suddenly I stood, roared, and hurled the platter at the door, laughing even harder when it splattered into a thousand million pieces of food. Ashes scattered across the ocean. I crawled