‘What is all this nonsense?’ the captain bellowed. ‘What’s going on here?’
‘Stowaway, captain,’ one of the sailors replied, pointing towards Marcus. ‘Must have been in the hold and got hungry. That’s why he’s gone and nicked Spiro’s food.’
The man Marcus had kicked wiped the blood from his face and rose to his feet with a growl.
‘Right then, boy,’ he hissed. ‘You are going to pay for that. Thought you could take Spiro’s ration and get away with it, eh?’
He reached to his side and drew out a dagger from his wide leather belt. Marcus quickly weighed him up. The sailor was not quite as old as his father had been, with unkempt dark hair hanging loosely around his face. His lips parted in a cruel sneer, revealing a handful of crooked teeth. As he raised his knife he swayed slightly and Marcus guessed that he must have had rather more to drink last night than was wise. He took another bite at the sausage as he watched the sailor closely.
The man’s sneer turned into a snarl of rage. ‘Thief!’
He ran at Marcus, his knife gleaming dully in the pale dawn light. At the last moment Marcus ducked to the left and the sailor stumbled into the rail along the ship’s side. Some of the other men laughed, and Spiro glared round the deck before he fixed his eyes on Marcus again.
‘Think you’re clever, boy? Well, I’m going to cut you good for that.’
From the tone of the man’s voice Marcus knew that he was in grave danger. The man might even kill him if he had the chance. For a moment it felt as if an icy hand had clamped around the back of his neck. Marcus was more afraid than he had ever been in his life. He let the bread and the sausage drop from his fingers and crouched low, ready to spring aside. Already he was thinking about his next moves, his wits quickened by the knowledge that he was engaged in a fight to survive.
‘Go on, Spiro!’ a sailor called out. ‘Show the boy what a man you are.’
There was more laughter, but Marcus saw that the comment had caused the sailor to become even more enraged. He sprang towards Marcus, slashing out with his blade as he did so. Marcus leapt to the side, hearing a faint hiss close to his ear as the blade cut through the cool dawn air. He ran to the middle of the deck and turned back to face Spiro as the sailor strode towards him, hunched forward.
‘Keep running, boy. I’ll corner you. Sooner or later.’
Marcus glanced to the side and saw the dark lines of the mast’s shrouds sweeping down towards a series of heavy wooden pins. He glanced back just in time to see Spiro make another attack, leaning forward and thrusting the point of his blade out. Marcus dodged aside, then was forced to back away again as Spiro slashed at his face. The small crowd of onlookers melted away on either side as the sailor pursued his prey towards the stern.
‘Here, young ’un!’ a voice cried out, and there was a clatter on the deck close by Marcus as a knife landed on the planking. ‘Take it!’
Marcus snatched the knife up and scrambled away from yet another attack. This time some of the sailors cheered him on, admiring the agile way he was avoiding Spiro’s attacks. But Marcus knew that time was on the sailor’s side. He would find a way to corner Marcus and then it would be over. The sailor would cut him down where he stood and dump his body over the side into the sea.
Marcus ducked round the man and sprinted back towards the side of the vessel where the shrouds curved down, and there he turned to face the man again. Spiro paced steadily towards him, breathing heavily from the strain of his exertions. He shook his head mockingly, flicking aside a thick strand of hair that had fallen over one eye.
‘You’ve got a knife, but do you know how to use it?’
Marcus swallowed nervously. ‘Why don’t you come closer and find out?’
Spiro feinted with his blade. Marcus thrust out the knife with both hands to parry the attack and stepped back against the ship’s side. Shifting the knife to his left hand, he let his right hand drop, felt behind him for one of the pins and lifted it out of its hole.
The sailor stood before him, an arm’s length away. He held his arms wide, as if to catch Marcus whichever way he tried to run.
‘Time to pay old Spiro the price for stealing,’ the sailor sneered.
Marcus swallowed nervously. The time had come to strike, yet he knew he must divert the sailor’s attention at the critical moment. He lowered his left hand.
‘Please, don’t hurt me,’ he pleaded softly. ‘I give in.’
He tossed the knife on to the deck to one side, just behind the sailor. The man instinctively glanced round and down, his hair flopping across his face like a curtain. Marcus snatched out the pin, jumped forward and smashed its heavy wooden bulk against the side of Spiro’s head. The sailor dropped to his knees with a groan, head rolling back as his mouth sagged open. His blade fell from his hands and he fixed Marcus with a dazed expression before he collapsed unconscious at his feet.
There was a brief silence before one of the crew let out a low whistle. Then another man cheered, and more joined him in a ragged chorus of shouts of approval. Marcus looked round at their faces and saw the amused admiration in their expressions. Many of them were smiling at him, and he felt a surge of elation and triumph flood his heart and mind. Then he looked down at the man lying at his feet. A moment ago the sailor had been set on killing Marcus, without mercy. Marcus regarded him with a cold hatred. Then he leaned down and picked up the knife that had been tossed towards him.
For a moment he paused, not sure what to do. From somewhere inside him a dark urge to seek revenge seeped out. It was not just revenge against this sailor, but a desire for vengeance against all those who had caused Marcus to be at this point, separated from his mother, his home and the warm, loving embrace of the idyllic life he had lived on the farm. He took a sharp breath and raised the knife, ready to plunge it down into the sailor’s heart.
‘No you don’t!’ a voice growled, and a hand seized his wrist in a powerful grip. ‘Drop the knife.’
Marcus twisted round to see the captain towering over him. He tried to pull his arm free, but the man was far too strong for him. The captain let him struggle for a moment and then, with a look of contempt, he lifted Marcus off his feet so that he was dangling above the deck. He felt a burning pain in his shoulder as the joint and muscles stretched and could not help letting out a sharp cry of agony.
The captain leaned forward so that his face was close to Marcus’s. There was no pity in the man’s eyes as he growled, ‘I said, drop the knife. Last warning, boy.’
Marcus knew that his position seemed hopeless, but the captain had made a mistake lifting him off the deck. Swinging his leg back, Marcus kicked out with his boot, striking the captain’s knee. His foot connected with a solid blow and the captain winced and bent forward as he let out a groan. At once Marcus tried to pull himself free again, but the man kept his grip, even as he shut his eyes briefly to fight off the pain. When he had caught his breath and opened his eyes again, there was no mistaking the captain’s fury.
‘Little swine…’ the captain spat. ‘You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn.’
He strode towards the side of the ship, still holding Marcus off the deck, at arm’s length.
‘You can swim the rest of the way,’ he sneered at Marcus as they reached the side-rail.
The captain lifted him up in both hands and held Marcus over the water. The boy glanced down and saw the milky blue sea churning along the side of the hull with a soft hiss. There was no sign of land anywhere and the prospect of being abandoned in the sea to die terrified Marcus. He clamped his spare hand into the folds of the captain’s tunic and clung on for his life.
‘Wait!’ a deep voice called out. ‘Captain, listen to me!’
Marcus looked over the captain’s shoulder and saw the man in the red tunic. The captain turned his head towards his passenger. ‘What? What is it?’