Isle of Fire by Wayne Thomas Batson Page B

sounds—”
    â€œOui, it is French.”
    â€œHmmm,” Ross muttered. “If they do not understand, I may need you to translate.”
    Then, using the most commanding voice he could muster, Ross called to the men on the other ship. “Captain and crew of the Vichy , you will turn your cannons and prepare to be boarded!” Ross watched with satisfaction as men on the other deck began to scurry about like ants.
    Jules and Mr. Hack hauled the gangplanks over and bridged the gap between the two vessels. Declan left the ship in Stede’s capable hands and led a boarding party including Jules, Jacques St. Pierre, and Hack. When Ross stepped onto the deck, he stopped short. In all his years as a pirate, he’d never seen anything quite like what he faced now.
    The whole crew of the galleon was assembled on deck in four very neat rows. The first two rows of sailors were all kneeling with their arms behind them as if tied. Two rows of men stood behind those kneeling. Their hands were not bound, but each man held some kind of merchandise or treasure: gold and silver coins, candlestick holders, silverware, spices, jewelry—even sacks of grain or sugar. Ross gawked at them and strode onto the deck, and any man he approached instantly shouted, “Je me rends, Je me rends!”
    Ross looked at his explosives expert. “Jacques?”
    â€œThey are surrendering,” Jacques replied.
    A commotion broke out behind the back row. Two of the French sailors grappled fiercely and rolled on the deck. They shouted at each other and growled like dogs. Ross again looked to Jacques. “What is that all about?” Ross asked.
    â€œThey are fighting,” St. Pierre said tersely.
    â€œThank you for that obvious information,” Ross scowled. “I can see that much. What are they fighting about?”
    â€œSacre bleu!” Jacques spat and then muttered, “It seems they are fighting over who gets to surrender first.”
    â€œOh, this is ridiculous,” said Ross. “Jacques, tell them who I am. Convince them we have peaceful intentions. Tell them we just want information!”
    Before Jacques could say a word, a tall man appeared from behind the rest. He had long greasy hair and a colorful variety of tattoos on his upper arms and chest. He strode over to the men still punching and struggling and kicked each one sharply in the rear end. Then, with his hands on his hips, he yelled at the two combatants. They instantly stopped fighting, stood, and slunk away to the back row.
    Jacques took the opportunity to speak up. He spoke rapidly, telling all what Ross had commanded. Some of the sailors of the Vichy sighed and cracked relieved smiles. Others squinted and looked confused. The tattooed man approached Captain Ross and said something. Then, startling everyone, he drew his cutlass.
    But before Hack could get to Ross’s defense, the tattooed sailor bowed and placed his sword at Ross’s feet. Jacques threw up his hands and said, “He is the captain. He says if anyone has the right to surrender first, it is he.”
    The captain of the Vichy said something rapidly, and his facial expression turned very serious, almost defiant. Ross looked again at St. Pierre. Jacques rolled his eyes and explained, “The captain says you can have anything you want from the ship, but you will have to kill him if you want the Vichy ’s chef and their boudain noir .”
    â€œBoudain noir?”
    St. Pierre licked his lips. “Boudain noir is a sausage made with boiled and congealed blood.”
    Ross made a horrid face. “Tell the captain he can keep his ship’s cargo—especially the boudain noir. And please get him to understand we mean them no harm.”
    Through Jacques’s translation, Ross at last convinced the sailors of the Vichy that he was not a pirate bent on plunder, death, and destruction. Ross handed the cutlass back to the Vichy ’s captain whose