Part 6 (1/2)

iv

The Straits of Malacca, a narrow trench between Malaysia on the north and Sumatra on the south, were known to be haunted by seafaring bandits. As the Coralie Coralie navigated the narrows, Captain Grant maintained full crews at the cannon, powder magazines, and crow's nests. navigated the narrows, Captain Grant maintained full crews at the cannon, powder magazines, and crow's nests.

”We stop at Borneo, perhaps Java, then continue to the Philippines before we strike across the Pacific to the Sandwich Islands.” Grant indicated the specific islands on the large nautical chart mounted under gla.s.s in the navigation room. ”I warrant we'll see San Francis...o...b..fore Christmas next.”

Days after the three-masted brig emerged into the island-cluttered waters of Indonesia, Nemo sat at the bow, cradling in his lap one of the books Verne had left for him, a worn copy of DeFoe's Robinson Crusoe Robinson Crusoe. He and his friend had sat at the edge of the Loire, imagining what they might do if ever marooned on a deserted island.

Engrossed in the story, Nemo did not hear the captain's footfalls above the groan of the rigging ropes and the whisper of tight sails. Captain Grant saw what his cabin boy was reading. ”Crusoe, eh? You know the account DeFoe used for his inspiration, lad?”

Nemo looked up at the captain. ”Robinson Crusoe is a true tale, sir?”

”Not exactly,” Captain Grant replied with a smile. ”'Twas told by the pirate William Dampier, who was also a naturalist and meticulous observer. One of his men, a Scottish sailor named Alexander Selkirk, demanded to be put ash.o.r.e after a disastrous raid against the Spaniards. Dampier left him off the coast of South America, then sailed away.”

”So he was marooned?” Nemo asked.

”By his own choice, lad. Four and a half years later, when William Dampier came around Cape Horn again -- this time commissioned as the navigator on a legitimate s.h.i.+p, not a privateer -- the crew spotted a strange light on the coast. When they stopped to investigate, they found a bedraggled Selkirk, who had built a huge fire to attract them. The poor man had not seen another living soul for four long years.”

Seeing Nemo's fascination, Captain Grant said, ”I have Dampier's book in my cabin, lad. You can read it tonight by lamplight, if you wish.” The captain then pointed a scolding finger. ”But first, young man, 'tis your turn at watch. Go climb the ratlines and spend your hours up in the crow's nest.”

v

Sitting alone atop the mast for hour after hour, Nemo imagined himself in another world. Far below, the Coralie Coralie held the smells and stains from the long voyage, despite vigorous daily scrubbings. He'd grown accustomed to the crowded and unpleasant conditions, but he preferred to be up high, where the breezes danced around the topmost spire. Here, his thoughts could roam. held the smells and stains from the long voyage, despite vigorous daily scrubbings. He'd grown accustomed to the crowded and unpleasant conditions, but he preferred to be up high, where the breezes danced around the topmost spire. Here, his thoughts could roam.

The rigging hummed, and the sails laughed with each gust. In the South China Sea, islands, reefs, and peninsulas dotted the charts in Captain Grant's stateroom. At the moment, all Nemo could see was the hazy, curved plane of metal-blue water, a calm sea with just enough wind to keep the sails filled and the s.h.i.+p moving on course.

Sunlight glinted across the stippled waves, fragmenting and reflecting back at him, though he no longer felt the baking heat upon his bronzed skin. Nemo stared, looking for any interruption in the quiet sea that would indicate an island, an approaching storm, or another s.h.i.+p. The world was so vast, so full of possibilities. No birds were visible, which meant the s.h.i.+p must be far from land. He took a moment to retie the faded red hair ribbon Caroline had given him, which sparked a wash of memories of Nantes. With the chance Caroline had offered, the opportunity arranged through Monsieur Aronnax, Nemo had indeed made something of himself.

In the crow's nest he had carried the thick leather-bound journal Jules had given him. Now he wrote with a lead pencil, scratching out thoughts and recollections, adding details of the previous few days. Verne, who had been forbidden to take this journey himself, would want to know everything.

Nemo glanced up again and scanned the sea, startled to see a black speck on the horizon riding the wind toward the Coralie. Coralie. He took out his spygla.s.s and placed the warm bra.s.s eyepiece against his face. Through the lens he could make out a sailing s.h.i.+p, though he could determine no specifics. ”s.h.i.+p ahoy! East by northeast.”

The other sailors on the Coralie Coralie looked up at him, then out to sea. From his place at the wheel, the helmsman signaled that he had heard. Nemo glanced again at the distant craft, then returned to his writing. looked up at him, then out to sea. From his place at the wheel, the helmsman signaled that he had heard. Nemo glanced again at the distant craft, then returned to his writing.

Over the next hour or so, the other s.h.i.+p came closer while the Coralie Coralie tacked at an angle to the wind. The stranger -- a large, st.u.r.dy sloop -- chose a course bound to intercept them, moving with the breezes. As the distance between the two vessels closed, Nemo periodically checked with the spygla.s.s. tacked at an angle to the wind. The stranger -- a large, st.u.r.dy sloop -- chose a course bound to intercept them, moving with the breezes. As the distance between the two vessels closed, Nemo periodically checked with the spygla.s.s.

Captain Grant's sailors continued to adjust the rigging, pulling the Coralie' Coralie's sails to s.n.a.t.c.h every breath of wind. Some gathered at the rail to look at the oncoming s.h.i.+p. It had been some time since the crew had encountered another vessel, but this was a high traffic sailing lane; finding another sail out in the South China Sea was not unusual.

Nemo could have finished his s.h.i.+ft, scuttled down the shroud ropes, and asked to look at the Crusoe-inspiring books Captain Grant had promised him. But with another s.h.i.+p coming closer, he wanted to stay up in the crows' nest where he could be the first to see.

Using the spygla.s.s, he finally made out the flag atop the foremast of the sloop. ”She's British. Flying the Union Jack.”

The other sailors milled about on deck, some shading their eyes and trying to see. The sloop picked up speed, coming closer. Nemo finished writing another page in the journal and stuffed the heavy book inside his s.h.i.+rt, tight against his chest.

Captain Grant stood on the raised quarterdeck, using his own spygla.s.s to observe the approaching s.h.i.+p. The sloop clearly intended to rendezvous with the Coralie Coralie. The captain went into his cabin and emerged wearing a new jacket with bright bra.s.s b.u.t.tons.

Nemo made out the details of the sloop, a black hull with a line of tan at the waterline, six gunports on a side, and a single tall mast with long booms that kept the gaff-rigged mainsail extended. Two squaresails had also been hoisted to give her greater speed to run before the wind. A well-dressed man stood at the tiller -- a British captain? -- and others strutted across the deck wearing finery. Some appeared to be ladies in colorful gowns made of oriental silk. They waved cordially.

Nemo knew a British s.h.i.+p wouldn't be uncommon in the South China Sea. Perhaps it was an opium trader; more likely, this sloop carried a group of amba.s.sadors or colonists out on a pleasure cruise among the islands.

Captain Grant signaled the sloop and called all hands on deck to prepare for a meeting at sea, where they could exchange news and mail. Nemo waited, breathless with antic.i.p.ation, wondering what tidings the sloop might bring from the territories in Southeast Asia.

Unexpectedly, two of the women in bright dresses went to the mast and tugged ropes to draw down the Union Jack. Nemo squinted through the spygla.s.s, trying to see what they meant to do. As the flag was lowered, two of the sailors on the Coralie Coralie's deck yelled a warning.

Another flag ran up the sloop's main mast -- a black banner sporting a crudely st.i.tched skeleton and a b.l.o.o.d.y sword.

The sloop's six gunports opened up, and the ominous snouts of cannons protruded. Nemo saw flashes of light and puffs of smoke as three cannons fired in successive, overloud drumbeats.

The pirates' first cannonball ripped through the Coralie Coralie's mainsail, leaving a smoldering hole. The second ball crashed into the hull above the waterline, blasting one side of the upper cargo hold. ”They've heated the b.a.l.l.s red-hot!” a sailor shouted. The technique was devastating against wooden s.h.i.+ps, easily starting the victim vessel on fire. Crews quickly filled buckets to extinguish any sparks.

The third cannonblast was the worst. Its load contained chains and mauls, rods of metal that spun like sawblades, tearing into the rigging, severing ropes. The sails flapped free. One of the ratlines dangled like an amputated arm. Fires began to burn on the Coralie Coralie's deck.

The men belowdecks started to scream and shout. When another cannon blast splintered the side of the mizzen mast, Nemo knew he had to get down from his vulnerable position. His heart pounded, and he thought quickly. Until now, the voyage had been marvelous and breathtaking. Now, though, he wondered about the difference between adventure and danger.

The sloop full of pirates came closer, narrowing the distance as the Coralie Coralie wallowed, unable to flee. The crew aboard shouted, preparing to fight for their lives. Nemo swallowed hard and went to join them. wallowed, unable to flee. The crew aboard shouted, preparing to fight for their lives. Nemo swallowed hard and went to join them.

Down below, Captain Grant's weapons master managed to fire two of the starboard cannons, but the rapid approach of the pirate sloop made the range difficult to determine. The cannonb.a.l.l.s sailed past their target, only one of them tearing a hole through the pirates' triangular foresail.

Nemo used his spygla.s.s again and saw the men aboard the sloop shedding their disguises of fine clothing, women's dresses worn by younger pirates to lull the unsuspecting Coralie. Coralie.

One of the raiders stood up, displaying gaudy clothes, a scarlet sash, and a striking black tricorne hat -- obviously the captain. The pirate leader's nose and ears had been sliced off, giving him a cadaverous appearance that made Nemo's heart freeze. He had heard of pirate justice, how a man caught stealing or grabbing more than his share of booty would be thus disfigured with the grotesque markings of his crime. But this noseless captain had acquired a vessel and a crew of vicious cutthroats. He raised a long cutla.s.s high in challenge.

Flushed and breathless, Nemo scrambled down from the crow's nest, grabbing severed and swinging ropes, making his way from yardarm to ratline. His mind raced, trying to think of defenses the Coralie Coralie could mount against the pirates, but surely Captain Grant already had a plan. could mount against the pirates, but surely Captain Grant already had a plan.

He needed to descend to the deck, where he could join in the imminent fighting and do his part. He had an odd memory of play-acting late at night with Jules Verne and Caroline Aronnax, when he had pretended to be the brave hero fighting against a bloodthirsty pirate king. But somehow he doubted these real raiders would flee in panic as easily as Jules Verne had done. Nemo, however, would not fight with any less vigor, even though the danger was real.

Standing on the Coralie Coralie's deck, quartermaster Ned Land removed his long rifle and loaded it. His disheveled blond hair was damp with sweat. The bl.u.s.tery Canadian had bragged about his shooting accuracy, able to pick off seagulls when they were mere flyspecks in the sky. Now, his face red with anger but his expression cool and focused, Ned lay the weapon across the railing, took aim, and fired at the approaching s.h.i.+p.

Nemo saw one of the pirates stumble backward and fall dead to the deck.

With a howl of rage, the marauders tossed the body overboard. They began to fire their pistols at random, striking the Coralie Coralie with a barrage of unaimed bullets. But the pirates had their own sharpshooters and a more vicious agenda. Captain Noseless barked an order, and several rifles fired from the deck of the sloop. They picked off the with a barrage of unaimed bullets. But the pirates had their own sharpshooters and a more vicious agenda. Captain Noseless barked an order, and several rifles fired from the deck of the sloop. They picked off the Coralie Coralie's helmsman and then two deckhands who were wrestling to bring the flapping sails under control.

Now the Coralie Coralie lay helpless and burning, unable to use her sails or her helm. Captain Grant shouted to rally his crew. Without waiting for the key, one of the older seamen scrambled down the deck ladders to break open the armory. The English sailors distributed swords and pistols and powder as they prepared to defend their s.h.i.+p. Below, the weaponsmaster recalculated his aim and fired another cannon blast. The shrieking ball struck the bow of the sloop and splintered the masthead. lay helpless and burning, unable to use her sails or her helm. Captain Grant shouted to rally his crew. Without waiting for the key, one of the older seamen scrambled down the deck ladders to break open the armory. The English sailors distributed swords and pistols and powder as they prepared to defend their s.h.i.+p. Below, the weaponsmaster recalculated his aim and fired another cannon blast. The shrieking ball struck the bow of the sloop and splintered the masthead.

Just as Nemo managed to land barefoot on the deck, the enemy sloop came alongside the Coralie Coralie. The marauders threw grappling hooks and boarding ladders across the gap between the s.h.i.+ps. Nemo felt cold, numb but not fearless, and stood with his s.h.i.+pmates to face them, no matter what.

The pirates had painted their bodies with brilliant colors and coated their skin with thick grease to help deflect edged weapons during hand-to-hand combat. They scrambled aboard with knives in their teeth, boarding axes in their hands, and murder in their eyes. The shouts and smells were horrific: sweat, blood, gunpowder, and rancid grease.

His tattered striped s.h.i.+rt stained with soot, Ned Land continued to shoot his rifle. With every blast, another pirate fell, but the quartermaster had neither enough shot nor enough powder to save them all. Nemo both dreaded and antic.i.p.ated when he could take part in the fighting.