ship continued to sink, the floor’s incline increased. With a little help from gravity, he was able to roll all the barrels down through a hatch that led to the ship’s middle deck. Once that was done, he jumped down after them and ran to the opening in the wall he’d spotted from up above. Moonlight poured in through the ship’s wounded hull, which was preferable to seawater, but Dean was not seeing
enough
light. The hole was only slightly larger than the cannonball that had created it. Dean had to make it bigger if he meant to get the barrels out that way.
He swung his hatchet into the planks of wood surrounding the hole. He pried boards loose and kicked them out as the
Reckless
sank. Packs of rats scurried under his legs and out through the break in the wall as he hacked away. “Brilliant,” he said, grumbling.“Just brilliant. Staying on board a ship when even the rats know it’s time to leave!”
He gave the wall one final blow as the last wave of rats ran by him. The hole was now wide enough for the barrels to easily pass through. On the lower deck, gravity now worked against Dean. He had to move the barrels uphill to get them off the ship, but thanks to his work with the hatchet, the hull was wide open. Bracing his back against the wall and pushing with his legs, Dean sent the rations out over the side, one after the other. His shipmates outside cheered him, but he took little notice. At this point, it no longer mattered if the Pirate Youth accepted him as one of their own. With or without a ship, Gentleman Jim was going down. Dean’s report would see to that. The Pirate Youth’s days were done. All that mattered now was getting off the
Reckless
before it was too late. Dean knew he couldn’t get all the barrels out, but he vowed to save as much food and water as he possibly could. It was either that or pray for rain, and maybe even turn cannibal out on the open sea. He found neither alternative appealing. The very idea kept him going back for more barrels.
He finally had to stop when the bow of the
Reckless
became completely submerged. The stern climbed up high into the air, and the ship rose to an angle that was hard for Dean to move across. The slope of the incline was so steep and the floor so slippery that he struggled to negotiate the deck. He threw out afew coiled piles of rope to tie the barrels together and prepared to take his leave.
“Godspeed, old girl.” Dean patted the ship’s hull. “You held out as long as you could.”
The
Reckless
groaned in reply. Dean froze in place. Was the ship talking to him? Dean realized his mistake when he saw the straight beams of the hull begin to curve. He drew in a sharp breath as the wooden frame of the
Reckless
strained against gravity and bent, right at its center— right where he was standing. The stern was rising too high. The ship was approaching a vertical orientation and buckling under its own weight.
Wood splintered and broke all around him. The floor, the wall, the ceiling … everything was torn asunder as the ship split in half. It was the loudest sound Dean had ever heard at sea, louder than a thousand cannons. He shielded his eyes as the deck cracked and fell away beneath him. He fell right along with the broken pieces of the ship. The ocean wrapped itself around him, and the currents sucked him down deep.
CHAPTER 8
G OING U NDER
I n the water, Dean got tangled in rope lines from the sails and rigging. He tried to kick them off, but that only served to make matters worse. Ropes tightened around Dean’s limbs like octopus tentacles as the sinking ship pulled him down, refusing to let go. The water grew colder and darker with each passing second. Dean’s mind flashed back to the harrowing minute he had spent underwater with the sharks. That was nothing compared to this. As painful as being eaten alive would have been, it would have at least been over quickly. Drowning on board the
Reckless
would take time. Dean didn’t want to die
enough
light. The hole was only slightly larger than the cannonball that had created it. Dean had to make it bigger if he meant to get the barrels out that way.
He swung his hatchet into the planks of wood surrounding the hole. He pried boards loose and kicked them out as the
Reckless
sank. Packs of rats scurried under his legs and out through the break in the wall as he hacked away. “Brilliant,” he said, grumbling.“Just brilliant. Staying on board a ship when even the rats know it’s time to leave!”
He gave the wall one final blow as the last wave of rats ran by him. The hole was now wide enough for the barrels to easily pass through. On the lower deck, gravity now worked against Dean. He had to move the barrels uphill to get them off the ship, but thanks to his work with the hatchet, the hull was wide open. Bracing his back against the wall and pushing with his legs, Dean sent the rations out over the side, one after the other. His shipmates outside cheered him, but he took little notice. At this point, it no longer mattered if the Pirate Youth accepted him as one of their own. With or without a ship, Gentleman Jim was going down. Dean’s report would see to that. The Pirate Youth’s days were done. All that mattered now was getting off the
Reckless
before it was too late. Dean knew he couldn’t get all the barrels out, but he vowed to save as much food and water as he possibly could. It was either that or pray for rain, and maybe even turn cannibal out on the open sea. He found neither alternative appealing. The very idea kept him going back for more barrels.
He finally had to stop when the bow of the
Reckless
became completely submerged. The stern climbed up high into the air, and the ship rose to an angle that was hard for Dean to move across. The slope of the incline was so steep and the floor so slippery that he struggled to negotiate the deck. He threw out afew coiled piles of rope to tie the barrels together and prepared to take his leave.
“Godspeed, old girl.” Dean patted the ship’s hull. “You held out as long as you could.”
The
Reckless
groaned in reply. Dean froze in place. Was the ship talking to him? Dean realized his mistake when he saw the straight beams of the hull begin to curve. He drew in a sharp breath as the wooden frame of the
Reckless
strained against gravity and bent, right at its center— right where he was standing. The stern was rising too high. The ship was approaching a vertical orientation and buckling under its own weight.
Wood splintered and broke all around him. The floor, the wall, the ceiling … everything was torn asunder as the ship split in half. It was the loudest sound Dean had ever heard at sea, louder than a thousand cannons. He shielded his eyes as the deck cracked and fell away beneath him. He fell right along with the broken pieces of the ship. The ocean wrapped itself around him, and the currents sucked him down deep.
CHAPTER 8
G OING U NDER
I n the water, Dean got tangled in rope lines from the sails and rigging. He tried to kick them off, but that only served to make matters worse. Ropes tightened around Dean’s limbs like octopus tentacles as the sinking ship pulled him down, refusing to let go. The water grew colder and darker with each passing second. Dean’s mind flashed back to the harrowing minute he had spent underwater with the sharks. That was nothing compared to this. As painful as being eaten alive would have been, it would have at least been over quickly. Drowning on board the
Reckless
would take time. Dean didn’t want to die
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