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here!”
    â€œAnne,” Nubby ordered. “Help me lay ’im on his back—if there’s a ruckus, I don’t want ’im fallin’ off the table!” Another sharp crack. Anne’s hand went instantly to the hilt of her sword.
    â€œYou’ll do ’im no good that way!” Nubby barked. “Hide yourself !”
    Nubby reached into his coat and withdrew a very long knife. Then he ducked into a tall cabinet. “Hide!” he hissed at Anne.
    She ignored him and drew her cutlass. “Oh, you’re just like your father,” he said, and slammed the cabinet door shut. Anne heard boots on the stairs just outside the door.

    Declan Ross clambered up to the forecastle deck. The battle still raged, and it seemed the crew of the Wallace was holding their own.
    But to his dismay, Ross realized that Chevillard’s men now held the starboard rail. The corvette had drifted closer, and a long gangplank extended the distance between the two ships. A dark shape appeared from this gangplank and strode onto the deck of the Wallace . He wore a captain’s tricorn hat, but gun smoke hid his face.
    Ross watched as this tall enemy swept out a long curved blade.
    Ross’s men, Henrik and Smitty, stood in the villain’s way. But they were no match for Thierry Chevillard, the Butcher.
    â€œNooooo!” Ross yelled, leaping down from the forecastle only to be blocked by a sea of combatants. The crowd twisted and thickened, and Ross could see nothing of his enemy’s progress. He made his way at last to the portside rail and grabbed a rope that had been tied off there. He climbed up above the melee and saw that Chevillard was headed toward the stern. He stopped at the door that led belowdecks to the captain’s quarters, and slammed a heavy black boot into the center of the door. It shivered. The second kick did more damage. And the third sundered the door altogether.
    He’s looking for me, Ross thought. He felt a chill. Anne!
    He began to run along the rail. “I’m here!” he yelled.
    â€œChevillard!” But through the clamor of battle, the French pirate paid no heed to a distant shout from one man. Two of his mates leading the way, Chevillard disappeared through the door.
    â€œNo!!” Ross yelled. He raced along the rail recklessly—too recklessly. He reached for a rope to steady himself, but his eyes were trained on the stern. He missed the rope, slipped, and fell. His head banged smartly on the deck. Slowly, Ross got to one knee. Anne! he thought desperately. Then he collapsed.

8
CAPTAIN’S FALL
    A pounding came from the other side. The door to the captain’s quarters shivered. Anne stood between it and the table where the wounded lad lay. Ignoring desperate whispered pleas from Nubby in the cabinet behind her, she held her cutlass out in front. The wood near the lock cracked, and the door slammed open.
    Two sailors charged in, swords outstretched. Anne caught one sword with her cutlass, spiraled her blade around his, and drove it down. With a sudden flick of her wrist, she jabbed the sharp point of her sword beneath the man’s crossguard and carved a gash across his fingers. With a yelp, he dropped the sword. Before she could finish him off, the second pirate swept a savage blow at Anne’s midsection. She dropped to a knee and drove her cutlass into his thigh. He fell to the ground, clutching his leg.
    A man wearing a dark leather tunic and a large tricorn hat ducked under the doorway and stood between the two pirates Anne had wounded.
    â€œInutile!” Chevillard hissed. He raised a huge cutlass and, with very little effort, killed the two men who had failed him.
    Finally, Chevillard turned to Anne. “ Sacre bleu! ” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “ La jeune femme! ”
    â€œGet out of here!” Anne cried out. She glared at him as long as she could, but it was hard to endure his intense menacing gaze.