Chapter Five
A crewman named Harvey untied Gordon Wednesday morning. He was the opposite of Ricky, fidgeting and chattering away while Gordon painfully worked his way up to his feet.
"Must be nice having your own island," Harvey said. "Although I wouldn't be able to stand living with my old man – I hated him so much that I ran away from home when I was fourteen. I like this life – sailing around, spending a few days here and a few weeks there, and then moving on, a bit richer. Or sometimes, a bit poorer. You never know." He grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.
Gordon was more or less upright, but had to lean against the mast while he waited for the pins and needles in his limbs to subside. "What about the piracy, though?" he asked quietly. "Doesn't the stealing get to you?"
Harvey shrugged. "Nah. I've been stealing since I was a kid – had to, to survive. Now it's just habit, I guess. Besides, most of these people are so filthy rich that they won't miss a little bit of money or jewelry." Fidgeting impatiently, he grabbed Gordon's arm. "C'mon, I'm supposed to get you some breakfast, and then Bloom wants you to polish all the brass."
Gordon allowed himself to be led toward the galley. "Speaking of polishing the brass," he said with a weary sigh, "if this ship is supposed to be your big moneymaking scheme, why don't you guys take better care of her?"
"Well, Bloom says we'll probably only use the ship for a few weeks before we ditch it – the cloaking system's nice, but the ship itself is kind of easy to spot."
Gordon stopped short. "Cloaking system?" he repeated, startled. "On a galleon?" Then he shrugged – if she had engines, why not some other high-tech equipment too? He decided to test Harvey's gullibility. "Where is the cloaking device?"
Harvey gestured casually with his thumb. "In the radio room with all that other equipment, I guess. I don't really have anything to do with all that stuff."
"Yeah, my brothers don't like me to mess with tech-related things either," Gordon replied. "Computers and I aren't always on the greatest of terms."
Harvey stared at him. "Your brothers all live at home too, huh?"
"Yep – we're just one big, happy, crazy family!"
"Weird," Harvey muttered.
"Yeah," Gordon agreed. "But I wouldn't trade them for anything." He looked Harvey in the eye. "What do you think are the chances that Bloom will actually let me go once my Dad pays the ransom?"
A shutter seemed to drop over Harvey's face. "Here's the galley," he said. "I'll wait out here."
As he ate a bowl of oatmeal, Gordon thought about the cloaking device, wondering if it would do any good to turn it off. He decided that it probably wouldn't help his situation unless he could also send John some sort of a radio signal at the same time.
So that meant that he needed to get into the radio room somehow. It would be easy enough to overpower Harvey, but how many men would be inside the room? If the day before was any indication, it seemed like they kept at least one man inside the room at all times. And then, once Gordon got in, he would be facing unfamiliar equipment. He would have to quickly identify the cloaking device and disable it somehow, then get on the radio and call John. At least that bit wouldn't be hard, thanks to the ingenious word recognition software on Thunderbird Five – he could use any frequency to call for International Rescue.
He frowned as one thing occurred to him – in case anyone overheard him, he would have to pretend that he didn't know John, but was just some random kidnapped stranger calling for help. Hopefully John would be quick enough on his toes to play along.
His heart was beating fast as he grabbed a water bottle and re-joined Harvey in the hallway. When they were nearing the radio room door, he let his water bottle swing from his fingertips and fall to the floor. It rolled close to Harvey's feet, and just as Gordon had hoped, the pirate bent down to pick it up.
Before Gordon could make his move to overpower Harvey, though, a harsh voice echoed down the companionway.
"Harvey! What's taking you guys so long? Bloom wants the kid working, not stuffing his face all day long!"
A burly man stomped down the hall and grabbed Gordon's arm; Harvey quickly passed Gordon his water bottle before the man marched him up to the deck.
"Thanks, Harvey," Gordon sighed.
Okay, so his first attempt had failed, but maybe he'd get another chance to try again later.
The crewman delivered him to Bloom, who shoved rags and brass cleaner into his hands and told him to get to it.
A couple hours later, Gordon paused to flex his cramping fingers. He glanced around, checking to see if there was any chance he could sneak below deck. Bloom was definitely keeping an eye on him, though, and there were several other men on the deck, although most of them were just lounging around, waiting for something to happen – as they had been doing for the past two days.
They got their wish. At that moment, there was a sudden hubbub as a man burst up from below deck. "Cap!" he called. "We got a yacht off the port bow! I've run her name, and she's a real fancy one!"
"All right, round the men up, Harvey," Bloom snapped. "Ed, you get the kid below – put him in the hold, and make sure he can't make a sound, all right?"
Gordon's mind raced as he watched a man – presumably Ed – make his way across the multi-leveled deck toward him. He glanced across the waves and saw the yacht in the distance. He wondered what sort of people were aboard…if they didn't have enough money with them, would Bloom hold them for ransom too? If they did have money, jewelry or other fine possessions for the pirates to steal, what would Bloom do to them after he was done with them? Would he just let them go, or would he damage their yacht and let it drift at the mercy of the Pacific?
Or would the people on the yacht pay the ultimate price for unwittingly crossing the path of the Sea Bird? The pirates had clearly shown that they were willing to kill…were the occupants of the yacht even now being drawn to their death?
Gordon's jaw tightened as he considered this possibility. On the one hand, he was a victim himself, and no one would blame him if he kept his mouth shut and didn't resist as Ed brought him below. On the other hand, he had committed his life to saving others', and although fighting back might ruin his own chances at escape, he knew that he'd be battling his conscience for the rest of time if he did nothing.
In the end, the decision was a no-brainer. As Ed reached for him with a gruff, "C'mon, kid," Gordon lashed out with a flat-handed chop to the side of Ed's neck.
The crewman crumpled to the deck, and Gordon leapt onto the ratlines, climbing quickly up the shrouds into the rigging.
Shouts sounded from the deck.
"Hey! Get him down from there!" Bloom bellowed. "We can't approach that yacht until he's out of sight!"
"That's the idea," Gordon shouted back, grinning. He swung himself up into the crow's nest and scanned the ocean, estimating how long he'd have to hold out. He grimaced – it would probably be at least ten minutes before the yacht was a safe distance away.
He looked down toward the deck and laughed – a cluster of men stood at the base of the foremast, clearly arguing over who would go up after Gordon. "Chickens!" he hollered. Not the most mature thing, perhaps, but, hey – he hadn't had any fun in a couple days. He intended to make the most of his few minutes of relative freedom.
Bloom stalked over to the men. "Just get up there – all of you!" he shouted.
Three of the men reluctantly gave in, beginning the long climb up the net-like shrouds.
Gordon looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, but came up empty-handed. He did see a way to prolong his freedom, however. He waited until the first man was just pulling himself over the edge of the crow's nest, then jumped up and grabbed the horizontal line that ran from the foremast to the main mast. He made sure not to look down as he swung himself out into empty space, moving hand-over-hand high above the deck.
The man who had made it up into the crow's nest shouted after him, but didn't dare take the same path. The other two, who had still been climbing the ratlines, started back down.
Gordon dropped neatly into the main mast crow's nest and hurried to look over the edge, panting slightly. He might have to build a ropes course somewhere on the island as a training exercise, he thought absently.
There was movement below as men rushed to the base of the main mast. More scrambled up onto the shroud lines this time. Gordon counted six men on their way up, leaving only Bloom on the deck. The three men who had initially pursued him up the foremast had almost made it back down to the deck.
A quick glance toward the ocean showed that the yacht was nearly out of range.
Grinning, Gordon once again waited until the first man was almost in the crow's nest, then grabbed hold of the horizontal line and starting swinging back across to the foremast. "Catch me if you can!" he called over his shoulder.
He was about halfway across when he felt an odd vibration in the line. Twisting his head around, his heart dropped into his stomach as he saw someone – Ed, he was pretty sure – sawing away at the line with a knife.
With a jolt, the line snapped, and Gordon quickly adjusted his grip as he found himself swinging at high speed toward the foremast.
Ricky and Marco had hurried to climb the foremast's shroud lines so they could catch him. Gordon shifted his weight a second too late to kick Ricky, and instead careened straight into the men's waiting arms.
More men clambered up to help pull Gordon down to the deck. His fighting blood up, Gordon struggled the whole way, but with six men hanging on to him, he couldn't get any purchase to really fight back.
They wrestled him down to the deck and struggled to hold him in place as Bloom charged over, eyes blazing with cold anger. Bloom stopped and studied Gordon for a minute as though he was something nasty he'd found on the bottom of his shoe.
Gordon met Bloom's gaze defiantly, chin raised. "Yeah? You got something to say?" he demanded.
Bloom looked at him grimly. "I was just wondering if your dead body would be worth anything to your father," he growled, "because I have to say that I'm beginning to question whether it's really worth keeping you alive."
Gordon ignored the chill that rippled down his spine and plastered a grin on his face. "Hey, I was just trying to do you guys a favor – your men looked like they could use a little exercise!"
Bloom's face darkened. "Gordon," he said coldly. "I told you that you would be treated all right if you cooperated. Since you have chosen not to cooperate, things are going to be a little different around here from now on." He took a step back. "Men, Gordon's shenanigans kept us from getting a good haul from that yacht. Go ahead and show him what you think of that!"
The men around Gordon shifted menacingly, digging their fingers more tightly into his arms, voicing their anger in little growls and murmurs.
Ed was the first to move, stalking stiff-legged toward him, fists clenched and face hard. "You knock me down, kid, and you gotta pay the price," he growled.
Fierce anger rushed through Gordon, making his heart thunder and crystallizing his focus. It was simply not in his nature to stand still and take a beating. He looked Ed in the eye. "I don't think so," he ground out.
Ed charged in with a roar, fist heading for Gordon's face – but then stumbled when suddenly Gordon wasn't there.
Gordon, at the last possible second, had let himself fall limp. The men holding his arms kept him from dropping all the way to the deck, and Gordon propelled himself back up from a crouch, butting Ed in the stomach with the top of his head and sending the man sprawling backwards, winded.
By stomping on Ricky's foot, Gordon was able to jerk his left arm free and swing around to deliver a knockout punch to Marco on his right. Someone coiled an arm around his neck from behind; he jabbed his elbow sharply backwards and was rewarded with a grunt of pain as his assailant fell away.
A fist cracked against his cheekbone and sent him stumbling, stars flashing in front of his eyes. He shook his head to clear it and reacted just in time to block a second blow from a big man named Jake. He was already close to Jake; he stepped in even closer and hooked his foot behind the man's leg. A quick pull with his foot and a push against Jake's chest had him toppling, taking down Ed again at the same time.
Arms wrapped around him from behind again. Gordon ducked into a low crouch, bending forward; with a quick twist, the person – Harvey – flew off his back, knocking Jake and Ed down once again in a flailing tangle of limbs.
Then there was a roaring voice to his right, and as he spun, he was aware of something swinging viciously toward his head. He dodged, and it caught his shoulder instead. The ferocity of the blow knocked him off his feet, a blaze of pain erupting in his shoulder and flashing down his arm like lightning. He hit the deck hard, the air whooshing from his lungs so that he had no more strength to fight as the crew piled on top of him.
There was a brief moment where he was battered on all sides as the crew got in a few vengeful kicks and punches, clearly not willing to let the fight be over – especially since he could no longer fight back.
"Enough!" Bloom's voice broke up the scuffle.
Gordon felt himself being dragged to his feet. He was dazed, but he mustered up the energy to glare as his gaze settled on Captain Bloom.
Bloom was holding an oar – apparently the weapon he'd used to strike Gordon's shoulder. "Throw him in the hold," he ordered. "Maybe some time in the dark, with no food or water, will improve his behavior!"
The world swirled around Gordon as he was marched below deck and down another couple of levels to the cargo hold, the second-lowest part of the ship – the lowest being the bilges, where the ballast was kept. Dark and often damp, the hold extended the length of the ship but had a low ceiling and was usually only used for storage, not as a living area.
Ricky opened the hatch to the dark space. Ed and Marco thrust Gordon inside, sending him stumbling down the narrow steps. They slammed the hatch behind him and secured it with a padlock, leaving Gordon in pitch black darkness.
Gordon let out a long, shaky sigh and sat down on the steps. The adrenaline of the fight wore off quickly, leaving in its wake exhaustion, despair and quite a few aches and pains. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he supported his right arm with his left, trying to ease the ache in his shoulder.
Even greater than the physical pain, though, was the mental agony of knowing that he had probably just given up any chance he would get to sneak into the radio room and contact his family. He sighed again, knowing that it wouldn't do any good to dwell on what-ifs – if he could go back in time, he would have done everything exactly the same way. He might very well have saved the lives of those on the yacht, and that was enough for the time being.
He felt his way down the steps and found a dry patch of floor to sit on. Shivering a little in the cool, damp air of the hold, he curled up and soon dozed off.