The old moon had waned, leaving the night as black as pitch, and the wako
ship was soon swallowed up by the darkness.
Up on deck, the Captain had doubled the watch in case of an attack,
while below those off duty whispered their fears to one another. Exhausted,
Jack lay silent in his bunk, staring blankly at the spluttering oil lamp, which
made the men's faces appear gaunt and ghostly as they talked.
Jack must have drifted off because when he opened his eyes again the oil
lamp had gone out. What had woken him? The night was soundless, apart
from the heavy snoring of his fellow crewmembers. Yet he still felt an
intense disquiet.
Jack dropped from his bunk and padded up the companionway. It was no
lighter up on deck. Not a single star could be seen and Jack found the
absolute darkness disturbing. He made his way across the deck, feeling his
way as he went. The fact that there appeared to be no one around only
served to increase his sense of unease.
Then, without warning, he collided straight into a watchman.
'Bleeding idiot!' snarled the sailor. 'You scared the living daylights out
of me.'
'Sorry, Piper,' said Jack, glimpsing the little white clay pipe in between
the man's lips, 'but why are all the lamps out?'
'So the wako can't see us, stupid,' whispered Piper harshly, sucking on
his unlit pipe. 'What are you doing up on deck anyway? I've the mind to
clip you one.'
'Er… I couldn't sleep.'
'Right. Well, this ain't the place for a midnight stroll. We've been issued
with guns and swords in case the wako attack, so you get below. Wouldn't
want to spoil that pretty little face of yours now, would I?'
Piper gave Jack a wide toothless grin and raised a rusty looking blade in
front of Jack's face. Jack wasn't sure whether Piper was being completely
serious or not, but he wasn't going to wait to find out.
Jack retreated to the companionway.
He was about to go below, when he took a final backward glance at
Piper. He was now over by the rail, lighting his pipe. The tobacco glowed
red, a single ember in the darkness.
The tiny fire suddenly disappeared as though a shadow had engulfed it.
Jack heard a soft exhalation of air, the clatter of the pipe landing upon the
deck and then he saw Piper's body slump noiselessly to the floor. The
shadow flew through the air and into the rigging.
Jack was too shocked to cry out. What had he just seen? His eyes had
become more accustomed to the dark and he could just make out shadows
crawling all over the ship. Two other watchmen on the foredeck were
swallowed up by these shadows and collapsed. The unnatural thing about it
all was the absolute silence of the attack. And that, Jack realized, was what
it was – an attack!
Jack flew down the stairs and dashed straight to his father's cabin.
'Father!' he cried. 'We're under attack!'
John Fletcher bolted from his bunk and snatched the sword, knife and
two pistols that were lying on his desk. He was fully dressed, as if he had
been anticipating trouble, and hurriedly buckled the sword round his waist,
ramming the pistols and knife into his belt.
'Why wasn't there a call from the watch?' his father demanded.
'There is no watch, Father. They're all dead!'
John was briefly halted in his tracks. He spun round in disbelief, but one
look at Jack's ashen face convinced him otherwise. He removed the knife
from his belt and handed it to Jack along with the key to the room.
'You are not to leave this cabin. Do you hear? Whatever happens, do not
leave,' commanded his father.
Jack nodded obediently, too stunned by the unfolding of events to argue.
He had never seen his father so serious. Together they had survived full-on
enemy attacks from Portuguese warships while navigating South America
and its infamous Magellan's Pass. But never had Jack been told to stay in
the cabin. He had always fought side-by-side with his father, helping to
reload his pistols.
'Lock it – and wait for my return,' ordered his father, closing the door
behind him.
Jack heard him disappear down the corridor, gathering the men.
'ALL HANDS ON DECK! MAN THE GUNS! PREPARE TO REPEL
BOARDERS!'
Jack locked the cabin door.
Not knowing what else to do, he sat on the bunk, still holding his father's
knife. He could hear the pounding of feet as the men rallied to his father's
call. There were shouts and cries as they flooded up the companionway and
on to the deck.
Then there was silence.
Jack listened intently. All he could hear was the creak of the boards as the
men cautiously moved about. There appeared to be some confusion.
'Where's the enemy?' called one of the crew.
'There ain't any attack…' said another.
'Quiet, men!' ordered his father and the men were hushed.
The utter silence was unnerving.
'Over here.' It was Ginsel's voice. 'Piper's dead.'
Suddenly it sounded as if all hell had broken loose. There was the crack
of a pistol, followed by more shots. Men screamed.
'THEY'RE IN THE RIGGING!' came a cry.
'My arm! My arm! My –' screamed someone until his anguished cries
were ominously cut short.
Swords clashed. Feet thundered across the decks. Jack could hear the
grunts and oaths of hand-to-hand fighting. He didn't know what to do. He
was caught between two fears – fighting or hiding.
The sounds of battle were joined by the groans of the dying, but Jack
could still hear his father rallying the men to the quarterdeck. At least his
father was alive!
Then something crashed against the cabin door. Jack jumped up from the
bed, startled. The handle was frantically jerked back and forth, but the lock
held.
'Help me! Please help! Let me in!' came a thin desperate voice from the
other side. It was Christiaan, his hands hammering on the locked door.
'No! No! I beg you –' There was a frantic scrabbling. A soft fleshy
thump followed by a pitiful moan.
Jack ran to the door. Fumbling with the key, he dropped it before he
could get it in the lock. Panicking, he picked it up again, turned it and flung
open the door, his father's knife in his hand, ready to defend himself.
Christiaan fell into the room, a small throwing knife sticking out of his
stomach. Blood gushed on to the floorboards and Jack felt it run warm and
sticky beneath his feet.
Christiaan's eyes stared right up at him, terrified and pleading.
Jack dragged his friend into the cabin, ripping bedsheets from his father's
bunk to stem the bleeding. He then heard his father cry out in pain. Forced
to leave Christiaan where he lay, Jack stepped out to confront the shadows
in the darkness.