Free Vampirates: Tide of Terror by Justin Somper Page B

stirring somewhere beneath the mask of the sleeping face, but he cannot be sure it is not simply his own imaginings. He thinks he senses life — or whatever you might call this — beginning to flood the muscles of the dead pirate’s limbs.
    He imagines life — or its alternative — taking hold of the dormant organs caged in his chest. And still he smells cedar and sandalwood and senses the ritual is not yet quite complete.
    At last, he hears a sigh. At first it is as soft as the waves lapping the rocks in the distance. And then it comes again, louder. Mouth open in curiosity, he looks down as the wet eyelashes flicker and part. White eyeballs appear like glistening pearls from a dark oyster.
    Then the pale violet lips open, too. They splutter to expel a small pocket of air and seawater. And a voice follows, surprisingly clear and strong.
    “Is it time to get up already? I was having such a nice old dream!”

10
    LIEUTENANT STUKELEY
    “You all right, mate? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
    Sidorio looks down into the coffin at the pirate, dead just moments before, now stirring and stretching and beaming at him as if he is a long-lost friend.
    “I’m all wet,” the man says now. There is a thin layer of water in the coffin and it has soaked his clothes. He smells of the sea.
    “Here,” Sidorio says, reaching out a hand once more. The pirate grips it and Sidorio pulls him up onto his feet.
    The pirate stands for a moment, then his legs wobble and he staggers. Sidorio has to move fast to prevent him from crashing back down and doing himself an injury on the sharp edges of the broken coffin.
    “Thanks, mate,” the pirate says, still holding tight. “I’m feeling a little funny. Like I’ve had a bit too much rum!”
    Sidorio holds him until he seems to be bearing his own weight.
    “Oh, that’s much better. Yes. There we go!”
    But as Sidorio takes his hand away, once more the mariner’s legs buckle and he falls down in a heap onto the sand.
    “Maybe I’ll just sit here for a moment and get my bearings.”
    “Good idea.”
    Sidorio stands back and looks down at the pirate, still stunned by his own achievement. He has brought him back from the darker shores. He, Sidorio, has performed the ritual. It is a sign that his powers are growing. The tide is already beginning to turn.
    “You’re a big fella, ain’t you?” the pirate says, looking up at him.
    Sidorio shrugs.
    “What’s your name?”
    “My name is Sidorio, but you must call me Captain.”
    “Right you are, Captain. I’m Stukeley, Jez Stukeley. You can call me Jez.”
    “Henceforth, you will be known as Stukeley,” Sidorio says. “I will be your captain and you will be my lieutenant.”
    “Lieutenant? That’s a nice promotion!” He seems pleased.
    Sidorio hesitates. The pirate seems quite unfazed by what has happened to him. He remembered the ritual but he doesn’t remember this part. What are you supposed to say to the returned? How fragile are they? Now that Stukeley is growing used to breathing again, he hardly seems fragile at all. He is sitting straighter, and his wet clothes have dried out. Now, he starts unbuttoning his shirt.
    “I just want to see it,” he says. “I never got the chance before.”
    What is he talking about? Sidorio watches as Stukeley unfastens the first few buttons of his shirt and reveals the flesh of his chest, which is pale as marble except for a deep indigo gash.
    “So that’s it,” Stukeley says, nodding. “That’s the fatal wound. Have to confess, I’m a bit disappointed. I expected something more dramatic.”
    Sidorio crouches down to his level.
    “So you know...you know you were killed?”
    Stukeley stares at him, his eyes twinkling in the moon-light. “Me — killed? No, I ...What are you going on about, mate?”
    Sidorio is lost in confusion until Stukeley breaks out laughing.
    “Of course I know I was killed, mate. I don’t just hang out in coffins for a lark! I’m not some vampire,