The Lost Prince by Matt Myklusch Read Free Book Online Page A

have anything of value to add to the conversation, I’m going to have to ask you to please be quiet.” Ronan and the rest of the Pirate Youth laughed. “Take him away!” The crew of the
Reckless
carried Cordoba off, and Gentleman Jim flashed a rogue’s smile. “Now then, lads. Let’s get a look at our loot.”
    “You heard the captain!” Ronan bellowed. “Get your hides to the hold and haul up your treasure!”
    A cargo hatch on the main deck flew open. “Already done that!” said the mangy, spindle-legged boy named Rook. He came up from below, leading a pack of young pirates toting crates, which they dropped on the deck with a thud. Rook took no part in the heavy lifting but, rather, concerned himself with a groupof missionaries who had followed him and the others out. Their leader, a white-haired old man with a kind face, tugged at Rook’s elbow, pleading with him to leave their cargo be. Rook pushed the frail clergyman down without a second thought. “Plenty more where that come from, there is.”
    Rook seemed quite pleased with the day’s haul, but Dean saw a problem straightaway. The crates were marked with crosses and looked quite hefty. If missionaries had ever traveled with this much gold, it was the first he’d heard of it. Dean watched Gentleman Jim and Ronan trade wary looks. There was a good chance this raid had been all for naught.
    Ronan jumped down from the quarterdeck. “Somebody help that man up,” he said, pointing to the old missionary. He slapped the top of a crate with an open palm. “Pry them open, boys. Let’s have a look inside.”
    Dean leapt down to the main deck and helped the elderly minister back on his feet. He then grabbed a pry bar and lent a hand with the crates. Just as he had suspected, there was no treasure inside. Instead, the boxes were filled with dried meats, rice, and grain.
    Gentleman Jim’s eyes narrowed. He gripped the railing of the quarterdeck hard enough to leave thumbprints in the finish. “What is this? This ship was meant to be carrying Spanish gold!”
    “Gold?” The old missionary limped forward. “No, sir. Our mission booked passage on this ship to aid the hurricane victimsof San Petit. Our only cargo is food, medicine, and the good Lord’s word.”
    “No gold?” Gentleman Jim leaned forward as his men pried open the other crates. “None?”
    Dean inspected each box thoroughly. There was always a chance that the old preacher was a fraud hiding gold bars beneath his Bibles, but it wasn’t very likely. The man’s soft blue eyes twinkled with less guile than a baby dove’s. Dean turned to face his new captain with empty hands. “I’m afraid not, sir. Just food and supplies.”
    The missionary stepped in front of the crates, shielding them with his body. “Have mercy, Captain. Let us pass. If not for our sake, then do it for your own! What will you say on the day of your judgment if you steal from women and children barely clinging to life? How will you explain leaving countless innocents to waste away and die? Please, sir, if you won’t think of them, think of yourself. Think of your soul!”
    The impassioned plea hung in the air, heavier than ten cannonballs. “Blast it all,” Ronan muttered.
    Gentleman Jim shook his head. “Rook, seal up these crates and stow them with the others down below. We’re leaving.”
    Rook’s head shot up. “What?”
    Dean spun around as well. “We’re leaving?”
    “Bless you, sir! Bless you!” cried the old missionary, clasping his hands together.
    “But, Cap’n! You can’t!” Rook sputtered.
    “We came here for gold, Rook, not the food of starving children.” Gentleman Jim turned back toward the
Reckless
without touching so much as a single grain of rice. Dean couldn’t believe his eyes.
    Rook grabbed the captain’s shoulder and pulled him back. “In case you hadn’t noticed, sir, we’re not far from starvin’ ourselves. We’re down to hardtack and leather, we are!”
    Gentleman Jim