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Here
you can read an extract from Book
Three in the Swashbuckler series: The Silver Swan.
(This scene takes place in the Mediterranean,
somewhere near Malta, as the crew of The Mermaid glimpse a familiar
sail on the horizon.)
“Hell hath no fury,” Papa
murmured.
He raised the telescope to one
eye. “We can’t escape her,” he said. “Not in
this blow.”
“We can damn well try,” said Jem, with a bottomless wrath
in his voice.
“We’ll have to turn and fight,” I said, even though
the very thought made me feel like throwing up over the side.
Papa sighed. “She’s right, you know, Jem.”
Jem hung his head. “I know.”
He slammed his fist into the woodwork. “God’s hounds! What
I wouldn’t give for a few more cannon.”
“You can out-manoeuvre Diablo, Jem,” I said, trying to sound
like my whole insides weren’t melting. “You’re twice
the sailor he is.”
He tried to smile. “Thank you, Cyg. I just wish I could out-shoot
him as well.”
He sighed, the same awful noise as Papa had made. They exchanged a glance
and Jem nodded. “This is it.”
“Clear for action,” cried Papa, and his words were echoed
by dozens of voices all over the ship.
Miller ran the length of the deck towards the forward cannon, thundering,
“I’ll kill him myself – just let me get the slimy
filthy poisonous sea-snake in my sights!”
Cookie, Mama and Lucas came scrambling up on deck, Mama’s face
pale in the feeble dawn light.
“What is it?” she asked, her eyes searching the horizon
until she found the cause of the alarm. She knew straight away.
“Oh, no,” she whispered. “Not now.”
“I’d best get the galley stowed,” said Cookie, in
a resigned voice. “Dearie me, dearie, dearie me.” He shuffled
off below to prepare for the inevitable wounded. For once his fears
of disaster were justified. Diablo would not let him escape again.
“Lucas,” Papa called out, “take your mother below.
The deck’s no place for a woman during battle.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, in spite of the terror that bubbled
through me.
Gisella was closing the gap between us, and Papa didn’t
take his eye from his telescope. He didn’t notice how my Mama’s
face darkened in defiance. It was a hell of a moment for my parents
to have their first fight. Mama stepped forward, with her hands clenched
tightly together.
“Captain Swann,” she began, in the don’t-argue-with-me-I’m-your-mother
voice so familiar to Lucas and me.
“Frances, don’t start, for God’s sake.” Papa
ought to have known there was no point arguing, but he wasn’t
concentrating.
“I’m a pirate’s wife,” Mama said. She grabbed
his sleeve and turned him about to face her. “For that matter,
I’m a pirate’s mother. My place is here on deck with you.”
“But there’s nothing you can do,” Papa argued. “You’ll
only get in the way.”
“That blasted Diablo’s not going to take my family prisoner
again,” said Mama, rolling up her sleeves. “Now, someone
hand me a musket and show me how to fire the damned thing.”
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