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He stood a foot taller than she did. His shoulders were broad, and he was clearly very strong. But there was abject cruelty in his heart-shaped face. A sharply pointed beard bordered his thin, sneering lips.
    A scar wormed its way across his right cheek and the bridge of his nose. But his eyes were the worst. Black and hard like polished stone . . . cold and pitiless, they stared out from heavy slanted brows.
    â€œForgive my manners,” Chevillard said, now in heavily accented English. He made an exaggerated bow. “But I did knock.”
    Like lightning, Anne stole the opportunity and thrust at his neck even as he bowed. But Chevillard almost casually dashed away her strike. His second blow tore Anne’s cutlass from her hand and sent the weapon clattering against the cabin wall. Chevillard leveled his sword’s point at Anne’s face and kept it trained on her as she stepped toward her own blade. Realizing she had no chance to retrieve her weapon, she glanced back over her shoulder at the lad who lay on the table.
    Chevillard followed Anne’s gaze. When he saw the wounded lad, his eyes flickered with fire. “You!” he gasped.

    â€œI’ll take fore,” said Red Eye. “More men likely to be there. You take aft.” Midge heartily agreed. The less fighting the better. They crouched in a narrow space behind a bank of large crates in the corvette’s hold. They had come in through an exterior window and found themselves one level above their objective: the gun deck.
    â€œHe hasn’t moved,” Midge said, referring to an armed sailor who stood by the entrance to the stairwell.
    â€œI’ll take care of it,” said Red Eye. Midge winced. He knew what that meant. Red Eye crept silently out of their hiding place. A moment later, Midge heard a low whistle. He peered around the crate. The guard was gone. Red Eye stood by the stairwell gesturing for Midge. As Red Eye skulked down the stairs into the shadows, Midge hurried after him.
    At the base of the stairs, the gun deck spread out left and right.
    Midge growled under his breath. Chevillard had not left the gun deck unattended. A group of pirates milled about around the base of the foremast. But just as Red Eye had predicted, there were fewer men aft.
    â€œAll right,” Midge said. “Let’s get this over with.”
    Red Eye grabbed Midge’s elbow. “Here,” he said. “Take this.”
    He handed Midge a dark ball the size of a grapefruit.
    â€œA grenade?” Midge’s eyes narrowed. “How?”
    â€œI was the last one off the cay.” Red Eye’s grin widened as he removed a dry wick and carefully placed it in the grenade. “I would have gotten more, but Captain Ross caught me, ordered me aboard.”
    Midge shook his head. “You’ve more men to take care of. You should take it.”
    â€œNo.” His face darkened. “I won’t need it.”
    Midge didn’t doubt it. He took the grenade and spotted a lantern three cannons away.
    â€œTake ’em out quick,” Red Eye said. “I’ll use the ruckus you make as a distraction.”
    â€œThen we turn the cannons,” Midge replied. “Remember, down and at the beam, like I showed you.”
    â€œRight. Good-bye, corvette.” Red Eye moved out.
    Midge scuttled away, and then peered around the side of the cannon bay. The two sailors who stood in his way were as far aft as they could be. They gestured animatedly to each other and laughed. But their comic moment was cut short. A dark ball rolled between them. The fuse burned quickly and disappeared, and the grenade exploded. The two men were flung aside like rag dolls.
    Midge went right to work. He removed the chocks from behind the last starboard cannon, and he used an iron pike to lever the cannon out of the bay. As it rolled, he tossed a wedge behind the cannon’s back right wheel. One wheel stopped, the cannon turned,