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heap of rope was now pulled nearly taut. Dean smiled and stuck to the script. “You won’t shoot because my captain would take that as a personal insult. The offer of quarter would be withdrawn, and my shipmates would cut every throat on this ship, down to the very last man. You see, Gentleman Jim commands a ghost ship, crewed by one hundred of the blackest souls that ever sailed the sea. Stole them right out from under the devil’s nose, he did. They’re so grateful, they do whatever he says, and it’s them who are coming for you now.”
    Dean locked eyes with the captain and didn’t blink. The sailors on deck swallowed hard as the rope continued to stretch out before him. A strong gust of wind swept the fog from the deck, and moonlight bathed the
Santa Clara
in an eerie glow. Murmurs ran from bow to stern like an army of mice. Half the ship’s crew appeared anxious to know what was pulling on the other end of the rope. The other half looked afraid to find out. All of them seemed to regret laughing in the face of death when Dean seemed so certain it was coming to call.
    “If it’s blood you’re after, Captain, you’ll have it. But you’d be wise to save your powder for my shipmates. I didn’t come here alone.”
    As the last few yards of line went over the side, the tune of a pirate shantey drifted in. All hands on deck, the captain included, stood on guard as they looked around, trying to find the spot from whence it came. A moment later, the
Reckless
—a large, three-masted, well-armed galleon flying the Jolly Roger—emerged from the fog. It was a nightmarish vision. Half of the Pirate Youth stood at the edge of the ship wearing face paint and skull masks. They each held a torch in one hand, a cutlass in the other, and shouted demonic battle cries. The other half flew in from above, riding more kiteboard rigs. They descended upon the
Santa Clara
like shrieking harpies, and the crew on deck ran for cover. Dean saw Gentleman Jim at the center of it all with his sword held high in the air. He gave the order to attack, and Dean’s ghostly shipmates came over the side like a giant wave crashing to the shore.

CHAPTER 6
T HE G ENTLEMAN ’ S C ODE
    T he
Santa Clara
’s captain dropped his pistol and ran. His men did the same, throwing down their swords before the first “ghost” came aboard. Dean watched the Pirate Youth overwhelm the ship, working fast to round up its crew and bind every man on deck with strong ropes and tight knots. The battle was over before it began, and well before anyone realized they had just surrendered to a ship full of children.
    Gentleman Jim came aboard last, moving with no greater urgency than a man strolling down a beach at sunset. He walked up a gangplank to join Dean on the quarterdeck as his crew secured the ship. Back on the
Reckless
, a team of young pirates turned a massive capstan to haul in the rest of Dean’s line, singing as theyworked to pull the two ships together. Gentleman Jim clapped a hand on Dean’s back and gave a hearty laugh. “Beautiful! They all but wrapped her up and tied her with a bow, didn’t they?”
    Dean shook his head in admiration. “I have to hand it to you, Captain. This is as good a con as I’ve ever seen. This lot bought it hook, line, and sinker.”
    “Thanks to you. Give yourself some credit, lad. It all starts with the right setup. You did well—especially for a first timer. Fine work.”
    Dean basked in the glow of Gentleman Jim’s praise. He wasn’t used to that kind of encouragement. It was true, he deserved some credit for spooking the ship’s captain and crew, but as far as he was concerned, the real work had been done by the Pirate Youth. They were professionals through and through. Dean watched as they went about their business, taking control of the
Santa Clara
in an orderly, bloodless fashion. He liked the way Gentleman Jim did things. It was smart. What was the point of executing brutal raids and innocent sailors when you