Dark Ocean
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“We’re here to take you home,” said the voice.
“Take me…home?” I repeated stupidly, my voice cracking in surprise. It sounded like a girl’s voice and she’d spoken English perfectly.
It took an age for the words to filter through and then another moment to realize that there was no other sound on deck save the lapping of waves against the hull. The sea had become as quiet as if it were a desert with not so much as a gull to be heard.
As my eyes adjusted to the near blackness around me, the first thing I noticed was the absence of water – we were in a dry dock. But what could be dry docking? And who could be taking me back…? My gaze traveled up the long wooden gangway from where I sat, my hands and feet still bound together by a thick rope that trailed behind me.
Then it stopped abruptly at something I hadn’t expected to see. It was him – the man I’d come out to meet that evening, but whose arrival I now realized must have been a trick. He stood at the very end of the gangway, wearing clothes identical to mine. I felt sure he would know I was there, just waiting on his return to this world.
I tried to shout out but the gag prevented any noise from reaching my lips. My heart raced faster than ever, as it did when I thought of myself alone in the dark; only this time the feeling didn’t abate. “Who are you?” I managed to croak. I wanted to kick off my shoes or move my legs to loosen the ropes about them but couldn’t do anything.
He turned slowly to face me. There was something odd about the way he moved, even more oddly than usual for someone standing motionless in complete darkness. It looked almost like he was moving through the water yet there was nothing around us but black, endless space.
He raised both of his arms as if stretching in the water and then slowly lowered one of them down. I watched the hand approach me as if swimming, yet it never came within touching distance. When it reached my right shoulder, it stopped dead in the air and seemed to hover there, unmoving.
His face was pale white and his expression unreadable. For a second I wondered whether he wasn’t even human.
“You have returned to where you belong,” the strange voice said again. A shiver ran up my spine as though the voice were somehow familiar to me. “Your journey is over.”
Then, before I knew what was happening, he spoke a single word – ‘Nemesis’. Instantly I could feel the bonds binding me to break apart. I leaped forward to run past him, desperate to reach the boat waiting at the end of the gangway.
Before I had taken two steps, however, I found myself staring into his face once more – he appeared to be floating in mid-air. He smiled at me, his expression is unreadable.
“I’m sorry to say that I cannot let you leave. Not yet…”
With that, a wave of cold swept through me and I was thrown back by a force stronger than I could ever remember feeling – it was as though I were being hit with an invisible hammer. Then I heard the sound of splintering wood, which was followed immediately by a dull thud and the smell of burned flesh.
I struggled to stay conscious, knowing that my life hung in the balance as I was flung back and forth across the deck like a rag doll. Finally, a few moments later, my head collided painfully with something hard and I fell to the floor, dazed and unable to move.
I lay there wondering if it was over until I felt something brush against my cheek and realized it was rain. It was raining. In a few minutes time it would stop, I hoped, but for now, it continued to pour down.
I rolled onto my side and lifted my head a little to look up towards the roof of the warehouse I was in – and there was Captain Haddock, slumped against the wall, blood running from a gash in his forehead and a cut above his left eye.
He looked dead to the world, which was a relief as I couldn’t think what to do next. Then, as if a dam had burst in my mind, I remembered the knife that had been used to cut the ropes that bound me. I scrabbled around the floor, trying to find it amid the piles of boxes and crates.
Eventually, I located it in an empty box, which was lying nearby on its side. My fingertips brushed against it and I pulled the blade free of the wooden box. Now I had a weapon – a small dagger. If only I could get close enough to him – just a couple of feet should do.
But how? It wouldn’t be easy without my shoes! Even then it would probably take me too long and if he saw me coming, he might use that sword of his. No, I’d have to try something else instead. I sat up, taking care not to put any strain on my injured shoulder, and waited for another moment’s respite in the torrential rain.
The warehouse was still completely silent. There was no sign of anyone else about either, not even a guard who would normally patrol the area at night. I got to my feet once more and looked around. As far as I could see there was nothing but stacks of boxes, some piled several stories high, others leaning precariously against each other.
And then I saw the ladder – it was suspended from hooks at the top level, which meant that it must have been brought up through one of the large holes in the floor. I quickly made my way across the warehouse to the ladder and then climbed upwards, using the rungs as steps.
I reached the top of the ladder and peered over the edge of the hole. Below me was a narrow alleyway with two walls – on the left side I could make out the outline of an opening and beyond it was a building that looked suspiciously like an old warehouse.
On the right side was a line of windows, some broken and others boarded up. The alleyway led directly off the main road that ran along the harbor and in front of me was the open sea.
I climbed down the ladder carefully, making sure that my feet were well away from the sharp edges, and then moved over to where my shoes and coat lay discarded. Once I had recovered them I slipped them on and began to creep forward slowly, listening intently for any sound that might indicate that someone else was on this level or in the next building.
But the warehouse remained silent as I edged my way towards the window on my right, keeping myself hidden behind the crates and boxes that lined the walls. I paused for a moment when I reached the doorframe, peering cautiously through a gap between the boards of the window frame. All seemed clear inside.
As quietly as I could, I eased open the shutters and leaned forwards slightly so that I could peer into the room beyond. The room was dimly lit by a candle sitting on the desk in front of the window – it flickered as I moved my head from side to side, looking all around.
There were four men inside the room: three sailors who had been asleep, and one man wearing a cloak. His hood was up and his face was in shadow. He stood near the far end of the room, watching one of the other three men closely as he spoke to him.
They all looked very tired – they were covered in sweat and their faces were grey with exhaustion – as though they had spent all day working hard in the hot sun.
And they all wore chains round their wrists and ankles and metal collars around their necks. So it wasn’t only me who was being taken somewhere against his will! But what did that mean? Had we really been set free after all that had happened, or had the French somehow managed to recapture us? I glanced nervously at Captain Haddock lying unconscious beside me. It was almost as if they thought we would never dare raise the alarm before help arrived. Perhaps our captors believed that we would rather die than be rescued. That sounded about right.
The cloaked man watched for a minute or two longer and then turned his back on the third sailor and walked over to another desk, where a large book lay open on top of some papers. He lifted the pages carefully so that his fingers didn’t touch the ink on the paper beneath, and then he read what he had found.
For a few moments, he appeared deep in thought as he read from the pages, occasionally glancing up at a clock hanging on the wall, before finally closing the book and returning to the table. There was a loud clatter of crockery as he dropped his cup and bowl onto the table and then turned to face the sailor at his side again. ‘Well?’ the cloaked man demanded. ‘You’re done now.’
‘Yes sir,’ said the man, and then, as if remembering something, he added, ‘but there is a problem . . .’
He went on talking but I couldn’t hear what he was saying, although his words carried clearly through the window, even above the rain hammering against it. The cloaked man listened patiently to whatever it was the sailor had to say, but then finally gave a sharp nod and gestured to one of the guards. The two men walked swiftly from the room and closed the door behind them. When they returned they carried a large wooden chest filled with gold coins. The man who’d spoken earlier took hold of the lid with both hands and heaved it off easily, revealing an impressive amount of wealth within.
‘We are ready to go, Captain,’ said one of the other men.
The cloaked man nodded curtly and the two soldiers picked up the bound sailor’s feet and dragged him out of the room. As soon as they had taken enough of his weight, the door opened wide and they carried him into a large carriage pulled by a pair of horses.
The cloaked man followed, climbing up onto the seat opposite the driver before the vehicle set off down the street, heading for the docks.
Captain Haddock stirred suddenly as I watched the carriage vanish into the rain-filled night. ‘Oh, no!’ he muttered, opening his eyes. I hurried across and put an arm around his shoulders. He stared blearily up at me for a moment, and then he shook himself and sat upright, staring wildly around him.
‘What’s going on?’ he demanded. ‘Where am I?’
‘You were hit in the head.’
He gave a start, as if he hadn’t expected an answer. Then he blinked several times and then his gaze fell on the sword lying beside him. He looked down at it and frowned, and then he started coughing violently.
‘Are you alright?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he gasped, waving his hand towards the sword in a warning. ‘It hurts!’
I glanced down at it myself. It didn’t look particularly serious – it seemed more like he’d fallen awkwardly rather than being attacked. And judging by how much blood there was, if he’d been cut by the sword I was carrying it probably wouldn’t have done him too much harm.
I wondered if that was because it was magic or whether it was just my own skill as a swordsman. Either way, I had to hope that the same was true of his blade, although judging from its condition I doubted that would be the case.
‘Come on,’ I told him. ‘Let’s get you out of these wet clothes before you catch your death.’
‘What happened here?’ he murmured as he allowed me to help him to his feet.
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘They knocked me out as well – but I came to when they were dragging us away.’
That was something at least. If they had been using magic on me I would’ve had no way of defending myself. Although, as it turned out, it wasn’t my own skills that had helped to save me this time. My eyes widened as I realized that I could still sense the sword in my hand, and I knew with certainty that we weren’t alone.
‘Did you feel something?’ I whispered urgently, as we reached the doorway.
‘A presence? Yes. But where did it come from?’
I glanced back down the corridor and then shrugged, turning to walk out into the street. I felt sure that I had to trust my instincts, but even so, I kept one eye firmly trained on the surrounding area, just in case there were any more of those cloaked figures waiting.
The carriage had gone and there was nothing else moving on the streets, which meant our captors must already have reached the docks. It seemed like they were heading straight for a ship, although which one was hard to tell in the darkness. All of the lights were out and it was raining heavily.
The only sound was the pounding rain and the creak and groan of the wooden buildings as the storm-battered them. It was eerily silent, except for the patter of water running down the roof in little rivulets, the clack of wheels on cobbles as someone rode past us, and the occasional crash as some careless carter drove a cart over a stray piece of timber.
A dog barked somewhere nearby. The city seemed empty, abandoned.
As we stepped onto the cobbles, I stopped suddenly and spun around to face him, my voice a whisper. ‘There is a carriage coming this way.’
He nodded silently and I heard him draw his pistol. We waited quietly until I could see a flash of red as the carriage drew to a halt right in front of us. Then it rolled forward again, drawing level with us as the door opened and someone climbed out.
Haddock tensed, his hand dropping instinctively to his side. I grabbed his wrist, pulling him around to face me. There was a flash of metal and he jerked his arm free of my grasp as he tried to pull his pistol from his holster.
It was dark, he couldn’t see very far, and I took advantage of the situation to grab his shoulder, shoving him towards the wall of one of the houses as he raised his hand to fire. Then the figure stepped out of the carriage, his cloak billowing around him as he walked quickly towards us, raising a lantern.
Haddock froze; he was clearly terrified of this man who was coming closer and closer to us.
We were standing in an alleyway between two buildings. I could see the glow of light from a window up ahead as someone watched us through the shutters. I had a feeling they weren’t entirely uninterested in what was happening either.
The cloaked figure stood a few yards away, looking down at Haddock. His hood hid his features completely, leaving only the pale outline of his mouth and nose visible.
‘So,’ he said, after a moment of silence, his voice deep and low. ‘It is you.’
The man was speaking to Haddock in his own language, and I realized that he must have been one of the crews from the ship. Or perhaps, judging by the accent, a native speaker from another country altogether. I listened carefully but I didn’t understand a word of what he was saying.
Haddock stared at him, his face rigid with fear. For all the world it looked as though he was frozen in place, unable to move or make a sound.
‘Well, now,’ the man continued, his gaze drifting across me to where I sat slumped against the wall. He seemed to pause for a moment, but only long enough to take me in. He was dressed similarly to the other men, in a dark coat with a high collar, but his clothing was of a finer cut.
His eyes narrowed. ‘You do not look well, boy,’ he murmured, and then he turned back to Haddock, gesturing to the ground. ‘Lie down.’
I was surprised to see that Haddock actually obeyed immediately, lying flat on his stomach and staring at the cobbles beneath his feet. I looked back along the alleyway but nobody was paying attention to us at the moment, and I wondered how many people were watching our every move.
‘Do not be afraid,’ the man said. ‘I am no enemy here. In fact, it seems you are the cause of my journey. Tell me, lad—you know where they went from here?’
Haddock remained motionless; his head was bowed, and I could see that tears were forming in his eyes. Then, without warning, he began to speak.
He started slowly but soon picked up speed, speaking rapidly and incoherently, his words flowing freely, as though the events of the night had driven him mad. When he had finished, there was a pause, while the man regarded him closely.
Finally, he said, ‘That’s enough.’
There was a sudden movement behind us and I jumped backward as a pair of strong hands grasped my wrists. Haddock was hauled to his feet.
The man held up his lantern, examining both of us closely. I felt a rush of cold air wash over me and I glanced down into the open doorway as a woman in a long dress appeared. She carried her own lantern, which she lit from a brazier burning nearby.
‘Where have you brought these men?’ she demanded, stepping towards Haddock as he stumbled to his feet. She reached out and touched his forehead.
Haddock winced and looked up at her in shock. ‘No fever…’ he murmured, but it was hard to hear him with the wind blowing so strongly across the square.
She nodded, turning back to the man. ‘Take him away and tie him up securely. The others too.’
As she turned to follow them, I caught her name, uttered in a soft Irish accent: ‘Nora,’ she said as she passed us.
Haddock staggered away in her wake and I followed, struggling to keep up with the pair of men who were escorting us. It was difficult to make out anything in the darkness, but we seemed to be walking northwards along one of the main roads into town.
They stopped outside another building, and I was surprised to see the windows lit, despite the late hour.
One of the guards pushed Haddock inside, then turned to me. ‘Come,’ he muttered in English.
I hesitated for just a moment before following him inside.
In front of the building was a narrow corridor lit by candles that hung from the ceiling. I saw a couple of other prisoners being escorted past, their hands tied tightly behind their backs, and I was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable about what might be in store for us. Then we were ushered into the room beyond.
It was small and bare. A single candle burned upon a simple table in the center of the chamber, while a bedstead stood against one wall and a desk and chair sat on the other side. On the bed was an old woman.
Her head lolled slightly from side to side as she lay on the straw mattress, and although her skin was pale and her hair white, she looked no older than forty years or so. Her clothes were stained and frayed, and as I stared at her I saw that she was blind.
There was something familiar about this place and the woman in the bed beside me – but it took me several minutes of careful scrutiny to place myself.
At last, I remembered her name: Nora Lacey.
She’d been one of the crew members when we boarded the Anne Catherine. I knew I should be shocked to see her bound hand and foot and dragged away by two armed guards, but somehow I wasn’t.
The man holding my arm guided me to the bedside. ‘What do you want?’ I asked angrily, trying not to think about the fact that she was clearly very ill.
The guard ignored me and knelt down next to the old woman. After a moment, he placed his lantern on the floor and removed the bandage from her left eye. ‘This is your daughter,’ he explained to me as he examined the injury. He was silent for a few moments longer, then sighed loudly. ‘It’s bad, lass. We have to remove the whole eyeball.’
My eyes widened in surprise. ‘How…?’ I began but was suddenly silenced.
‘You can go,’ the man told me. ‘I’ll stay here.’
When I turned back to look at the old woman, she had opened one eye and was regarding me with a curious expression.
‘Go!’ I snapped, but he paid me no heed and simply watched me as I moved quickly from the room, feeling ashamed. I hadn’t meant to say anything rude—and yet I had done exactly that! What kind of a person was I?
I found myself pacing along the corridor again, and for once I didn’t care who noticed me. All I cared about was finding out what was going to happen now. I was still angry with myself, but there was nothing I could do about that just now; all I had to worry about was getting out of the city in time.
A sudden shout from above interrupted my thoughts. ‘Captain Darracott!’
I whirled around to see a tall figure emerge from the stairwell leading up to the first-story window.
‘Are you well, Captain?’ he called again as I hurried forward. ‘We need your permission to enter the building.’
For a second I felt a flicker of fear: I hadn’t even thought about what they were doing here – I just assumed it had something to do with us. But I forced myself to ignore that for now and walked over to join him.
‘Permission granted,’ I replied.
He smiled, then glanced up at the top of the stairs. ‘You’re going to need some help,’ he called back. ‘There are two men guarding the door at the very top.’
I nodded as I heard the sound of running feet approaching from above. ‘Get ready!’ I called as I looked around for somewhere to hide.
From the corner of my eye, I saw an open cupboard, but that would be useless if anyone decided to search the building. Then I saw it – a small door leading further into the corridor. It led to a small storeroom full of barrels that had been used to transport wine during the war. I hurried over to it and grabbed hold of the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
I tried again, but it was locked. I looked around anxiously, hoping to find something else that would work. At last, I spotted a large wooden barrel sitting against the wall. If we could lift it high enough then I knew it would provide just enough room for us to squeeze through.
I ran back across the corridor towards the entrance. The two guards were waiting for us there and, when they saw what I was carrying, laughed loudly. ‘That’s quite a weight for you, Captain,’ one of them remarked.
I growled under my breath and reached inside my jacket. ‘I’m going to kill you both,’ I promised.
They sniggered at that, but I made no move to draw my sword. They knew I couldn’t do that without risking alerting the guards outside. Instead, I pulled my pistol and pointed it directly at their faces. ‘You’d better start running,’ I told them calmly. ‘Because if you don’t, then you’re dead.’
Both of them jumped aside as I raised my pistol and fired a single shot at point-blank range. The man in front cried out in pain, while the other managed to leap out of the way before a second bullet hit his shoulder. He screamed at the same time as he stumbled back, and fell into the doorway behind him.
‘Captain,’ said the man I had shot. His voice sounded like a mixture of relief and surprise. ‘Thank God you came.’
I lowered my pistol, then turned back towards the cupboard. It seemed to take forever to lift the heavy wooden barrel out of the cupboard and then carry it back to the entrance, but at last, we were ready and the two remaining men stepped forward to guide me upstairs.
‘You can leave the door open this time,’ I told them. ‘We’ll get her out that way instead.’
As I walked past the body lying in the doorway, I paused to look down at the bloody hole in its chest, then hurried up the steps, praying that he was dead.
The first-story window was open and the light of dawn was pouring in, so I climbed through it without hesitation, leaving the two guards outside to guard the entrance. As soon as I was inside, I closed the window and hurried back down to check on my men.
The old woman was still alive, although barely. She lay sprawled on the floor beside a bed, her arms spread wide across the bedclothes, her mouth agape and a look of terror frozen on her face. My heart sank as I realized she was dead – or, at least, close to death. For a moment I contemplated rushing back outside, taking my chances with the soldiers, and finding another way to escape.
But there would always be a next time, I told myself sternly. I was going home, and that was the end of it. I couldn’t have risked any more lives, not when I needed all of those lives to get me safely away from here. So, as I knelt beside her for a moment, placing my hand gently on her forehead in farewell, I prayed to God that she would be spared until she finally died.
The End