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time had come. Percy pulled out his blunderbuss and aimed the pistol at the man about to torch Guffald. He pulled the trigger. Smoke filled the air as the powerful slug hit the man and sent him reeling backward, until the torch disappeared as the man vanished over the Octavia ’s railing.
    He shouted to Ollie. “Tend Guffald. Jacko,” he said, turning toward his first mate, “follow me.”
    â€œMake ready!” he yelled to his men.
    One by one, his men raced into action, drawing dirks, cutlasses, marlinspikes, and axes against Frink’s crew. Mutiny swept man to man. What was left of Collins’s crew jumped into the fray. Percy rushed up to Collins.
    â€œSave her,” Collins panted. “Don’t let any harm come to Lady Constance!”
    Percy nodded. He ordered Jacko to aid Collins, and then hastened toward the cargo hatch. Dodging debris, he stepped out of the way just in time to avoid a collapsing mast. Up ahead, Frink loitered just beyond his reach.
    â€œHold,” Percy shouted, stepping in to confront his nemesis.
    Frink’s head snapped up. His sudden mistake cost him as Constance shoved her knee into his half-exposed crotch. Bowing down with pain, the captain cursed. Percy rushed forward to grab Constance’s arm and pull her to his side, but Frink miraculously regained his balance and jerked Constance back.
    â€œNot so fast,” he bellowed. Squaring his eyes at Percy, he spat, “I’ll be blown, you turncoat! I should’ve known you’d turn your back on me!”
    â€œHand over the girl!”
    Percy held his cutlass high, aiming the broad tip at Frink’s heart, allowing his gaze but a second or two to linger on Constance to ensure that she was unharmed. Shaken but uninjured, she appeared to be going into shock. He watched in horror as she stumbled closer to the edge of the hatch to escape the silver blade upheld in Frink’s fist.
    â€œTake her from me, if you can,” Frink challenged.
    Constance whimpered. Percy had no other choice. He’d have to go through Frink to reach her. With fencing prowess unmatched, he had no doubt as to his odds. But a cutlass was a hacking blade. Should he wield the final blow, all connection to Frink and his benefactor would be destroyed, ending his quest to bring Celeste’s killer to justice.
    Rumbling as if Poseidon tore at the Octavia ’s hull, the merchantman’s wooden shell began to crack. Glass shattered. The deck heaved. Time was running out.
    â€œLook out!” Percy cried as the deck collapsed, plunging Constance through the hatch.
    Frink’s eyes took on demonic light and he grinned wickedly. “Looks like you’re too late to save the wench,” he baited. “But if you dare to try, you’ll have to go through me first.”
    Forward thrusting with vicious tenacity, the captain engaged Percy in a duel of clashing steel.
    â€œYou’ve preyed upon the innocent for the last time,” Percy said.
    â€œGive it your best, boy!”
    Percy sidestepped Frink’s lunging thrusts, challenging him jab for jab. Step by step, their sword play sapped his strength as they parried closer to the hatch and the collapsing deck along the bow. Eight long months of anger and humiliation fueled the duel. As the combat continued — lunge, parry, lunge — the ship, gutted for everything it was worth, listed. The Octavia had little time left before it slipped beneath the surface. For Constance’s sake, Percy needed to end this quickly, so he could give her what he’d never been able to give his own sister. Freedom.
    Debris cascaded down upon them, hampering the fight. Frink baited him with riotous vigor, the strains of his insanity tightening Percy’s corded nerves. An explosion below rocked their feet, sending them reeling sideways. Percy moved in for the kill as the Octavia dipped, growing miserably defiant.
    â€œShe’s goin’ down,