Pirates of the Caribbean:The Spanish Prisoner (Book 2 King's Messenger Series)

The Lure of Green Apples

As I watched Maroto walk away, a single thought ran continuously through my mind: he was working alone, and always had been. I was foolish to have regarded him as a friend.

Unbeknownst to me, we had been getting closer to the Fountain all this time. My efforts to keep Hector and Jack safe had been of no more account than dandelion seeds, blown away with a single puff of air. But how could it have been otherwise, with Maroto holding back what he knew?

From the moment he had discovered our destination, he had known what Jeremy was doing. But he had said nothing to me. He had concealed the most fundamental fact - that within the city was a map showing the way to the Fountain. Instead he had signed up as part of our crew.

Only when it was too late for me to do anything had he revealed his secret - one secret, at any rate. The devil alone could say what else Maroto knew. A flush of annoyance warmed my neck, and my gaze fell upon a loose pulley. I felt a sudden longing to heave it violently overboard.

That such perfidy would provoke my temper was only natural. But my anger was swiftly replaced by a shocking sensation: I realised that I was utterly alone.

There was no one in whom I could confide, and I had reached the limits of what my own abilities could supply. I felt like a starfish, helpless on an alien shore, deserted by every creature that the ebb tide carried away. My spirits sank into my boots.

Perhaps I was destined to fail as a King's Messenger.

It had seemed so fitting, to honour my adored uncle by following in his footsteps. And it was the thing I felt best equipped to do with my life. But he had been a man of exceptional, even heroic virtue. Who was I, other than a poor judge of character?

My gloomy reflections were interrupted by loud voices calling the next watch. Startled, I saw that it was nearly morning. Hours must have passed as I stood musing over my failures. The sun had not quite risen, but its red rays fanned out from the east, lighting the undersides of the clouds and turning their edges a lurid pink.

Long, wispy plumes drifted along the horizon, while above me the clouds resembled an immense herd of tiny sheep, all racing across the sky in the same direction.

Mares tails and mackerel scales, the sailors say. And . . . I frowned. How did the other one go? Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. The last word caused a strange sensation at the back of my neck.

I looked due west, where a hazy yellow moon hung tardily in the heavens, like the last guest at a ball, reluctant to depart. All in all, it was a confused, deceptive sky, one that matched my state of mind to perfection. I made a mental note that we would have rain later.

Then a singular cloud caught my eye.

One of the mare's tails stirred a memory. I frowned, closed my eyes, and then I recognised it. The cloud's strange, twisting shape was similar to the sign at the top of Jeremy's map. But now I remembered something more. I had seen that sign on another map - the one I had pulled from the old journal and hidden behind the captain's berth.

I groaned, and cursed my inability to recall what that map showed. Had it only been Cuidad Blanca, or was there more? My heart began to pound with fear that it might show the way to the Fountain. I had to retrieve it before Hector discovered it.

If he kept to his usual habits, Hector would emerge soon from his quarters and take the wheel. That would be the ideal time to enter the great cabin unobserved and steal the map. I waited expectantly.

And waited.

Hector did not appear.

After another hour or so, I saw three men bringing victuals to the great cabin, followed by Jeremy, who caught my eye and nodded. Forcing a smile in return, I resigned myself to sitting through breakfast and pretending to eat.