Chapter 9 Rats and Rogues
“Rot and Ruin!” Caleb leapt from his chair, plucked out his long knife, and began hacking away at the rodents. His crew did the same. No time to ponder where the vermin hailed from or why there were so many.
The woman screamed. Swerving, he spotted her standing atop her chair, but a throng of rats had climbed it and were nibbling on her feet.
Her bare feet. He dashed for her, grabbed her by the waist, hoisted her over his shoulder, and darted out the door.
Up the companionway ladder, he was met with a blast of salty wind and the snap of sails.
But no rats. Hence, he gently set her down on the bulwarks.
“Stay here. You’ll be safe for now,” he ordered before turning to leap down the companionway again. But not before he saw a flash of moonlit white in the distance, like a ghost drifting over the dark seas.
“Sail! Sail!” sounded from above.
He’d spotted a ship earlier in the day, but she had slipped away, heading south.
He’d not made chase even though she may have been one of the pirates Governor Woodes Rogers had commissioned him to round up.
Or, better yet, a Spanish merchant he could pillage, as per his letters of marque.
But he needed to finish the task his father had given him first.
Was this the same ship or a different one? Either way, he had to deal with the rats first. “Where away?” he shouted to the man in the crosstrees.
“She were south by southwest, Cap’n, but she disappeared now.”
Marching to the binnacle, he grabbed a spyglass, lifted it to his eye, and scanned the horizon. Naught but dark rippling seas, glittering with moonlit foam. A ghost, indeed.
“Keep a weather eye out!” he shouted back to the watchman before dropping below.
Back to a different kind of sea. One with rats raging beneath his boots. No matter how many he squashed underfoot, more came. “Douse the lanterns and get above!” he bellowed down the hallway as his men spilled from his cabin, stomping, slashing, and kicking the little beasties.
Halting, Alden grabbed his arm. “’Tis not natural,” he shouted, rare fear in his eyes. “’Tis pure evil.” He tightened his grip, adding, “You know what to do,” before he leapt up the ladder.
Did Caleb? Rats clambered over his boots. He kicked them away, sending them crashing into the bulkhead, their eerie screams sending a chill down his spine.
Down another hatch, he found his men cursing and howling as they joined in the battle. “Get above deck, men!”
Grabbing a lantern, intending to douse the flame, he hoisted it above his head. A thousand red demon eyes met his. More and more piled atop the others, forming a growing pyramid of devilish fiends. The only way to kill them all would be to set the ship aflame. And he couldn’t do that.
“A sail!” a shout came from above, “Headin’ our way!”
Terror froze Caleb, unusual terror. He’d never failed to act decisively under pressure before.
His father and grandfather had taught him to respond quickly on both instinct and prayer, and then worry about the outcome later.
’Twas the way of these dangerous seas where a captain never knew what danger lurked around every island.
Rats crawled up his breeches, their sharp claws piercing his skin, their stench stinging his nose.
And for the first time since he’d commanded a ship, he had no idea what to do.
Wait. The Ring.
Shaking off the furry demons, he bolted back up the ladder and into his cabin.
The feral rodents were everywhere, piling atop each other, even climbing the bulkhead and hanging from the ceiling.
One landed on his shoulder. He swatted it away.
Patches, a rat hanging from her teeth, made a mad dash for the door, scattering the fiends as she went.
Dropping to his knees, Caleb reached beneath the folds of the cat’s bed, pulled out a pouch, and emptied the Ring into his hand.
Oddly, the red jewel at the center began to glow even as his father’s words rang in his ears.
Son, I entrust you with this Ring. It hails from the underworld. You must never use it, never invoke its powers. For it brings disaster and destruction to all who wear it.
But what choice did he have? If that ship following them wasn’t friendly, how could he fight them off with rats swarming his crew?
Pocketing the Ring, he struggled through a sea of squirming, screeching rodents, squashing as many as he could until he finally popped above deck. One lone rat scampered across the planks only to be smashed beneath a pirate’s boot.
“Rourke, Haines, Edwin!” Caleb shouted to the three nearest men.
“Light torches and keep the rats below deck!” Ignoring the pain throbbing over his legs and arms from bites, Caleb darted up to the helm and leveled the spyglass once again to his eye.
A set of bloated sails skimmed the dark waters like diamonds on black velvet, heading straight for them.
“Colors?” he shouted aloft.
“Can’t see in the dark, Cap’n!”
What ship would dare risk an attack at night?
A desperate one. He lowered the scope. Odd.
He had no treasure aboard, nothing anyone would want.
The Ring. But no one knew he possessed it, save Alden.
And the woman. He cast a suspicious glance her way, but she had her back turned to him, watching the advancing ship with the rest of them.
He had no time to ponder it when a roar split the raging waters.
?
The Sentinel knifed through the dark sea, her sails whispering in the night breeze. Desi leaned on the quarterdeck rail, the air thick with the scent of salt and tar.
Boom!
The sound tore the night apart. In the distance, a flare of fire lit the outline of a ship—dark, looming, sails like shrouds against the stars. The ball hissed past and smacked harmlessly into the sea.
Before she could catch her breath, the captain’s voice rang out, deep and commanding.
“Shorty, hard-a-lee! Larboard your helm. Bring her up to the wind!”
The deck heeled sharply. Desi clung to the rail as the Sentinel swung, rigging groaning overhead. Her mind spun. Was she really once again in the middle of a ship battle in 1718? Where she could be blown to bits and never be heard from again?
“Keg!” The captain stood at the quarterdeck, hands fisted at his waist. “Run out the larboard battery! Double-shot the bow chasers. Be lively, lads!”
Men pounded toward their guns, bare feet thudding on planks. The rasp of iron wheels on wood carried on the wind.
“Liam, beat to quarters! Hands to stations, now!”
“Aye, Cap’n!” the Irishman’s voice barked back, already bellowing orders into the blackness.
“Broadside to the fore!” Caleb called after Keg. “Take down her rigging before she can turn!”
Alden appeared at his side, long glass in hand.
“See if she wears colors!” Caleb ordered. “And mind the wounded if we take a hit!”
Wind snapped through the rigging as the Sentinel came about, swinging her broadside toward the phantom vessel.
Desi glanced back at the captain. Caleb’s stance was solid as an oak, one hand braced on the quarterdeck rail, the other cutting through the air as he directed the fight.
Then, chaos erupted at their feet.
A black tide spilled from the forehatch—rats, great slick-backed brutes, eyes blood red, teeth flashing. They swarmed over boots and up rigging, tails whipping, claws scratching. One sailor went down thrashing, two more stamping and cursing as they beat the creatures back with belaying pins.
“Liam, clear the cursed deck!” Caleb bellowed without glancing at the chaos. “Shorty, steady her! Hold her there!”
The enemy loomed out of the dark again. Caleb’s voice was iron.
Somehow, he was everywhere, steering them out of the enemy’s line of fire, directing the guns, and yet still keeping the crew’s fear in check.
He leapt down to the main deck, kicking rats aside and halted beside Keg and his gun crew hovering around one of the cannons.
The glow of a gun’s slow match caught the sharp planes of his face, and Desi’s chest tightened.
He was alive in the fight—decisive, unshakable—every word a lifeline in the chaos. The men obeyed without question, and she realized she was holding her breath, not from fear of the ghost ship, but from watching him master the storm as if he’d been made for it.
“Fire as she bears!”
The Sentinel’s cannons spoke as one, fire blooming against the night, the recoil shuddering through the deck. The enemy’s sails lit up in the flash—a ghost ship no longer—before the darkness swallowed them both again.
Still the rats came, a wave of chomping, screeching, death and destruction. They raced toward Desi again and she leapt onto the rail, opting to risk falling into the sea rather than being eaten alive.
A glance across the deck told her the rats were overwhelming the crew, skittering up the ratlines into the tops, where no matter how many the men kicked back to the deck, more took their place.
They swamped the gun crews, crawled up onto the whipstaff, and climbed onto the sailor’s arms and shoulders.
The captain continued shouting orders even while tossing the beasts from his arms.
Boom! Desi spun to see another flare spurt into the night sky from the phantom ship.
“All hands down!” Caleb shouted, but no way she was hitting the deck. Not with it filled with rats. She’d rather be blown to bits.
Strong hands pulled her from her perch, dragged her through a sea of rodents, and shoved her behind the binnacle, covering her with his body. Caleb.
Rats thronged over them. Sharp claws stung.
Tiny teeth nibbled. The stench of sulfur and rot stung her nose.
One climbed onto her head. She screamed.
Caleb punched it away and covered her with his body, absorbing the brunt of the creatures’ assault.
A cannonball struck the ship’s hull with a mighty crunch. Screams of pain filled the air.