The pirates, including the captain, laughed and danced and drank all around Gavin’s crate while the sky darkened and the lamps shed their familiar eerie glow over the gunwales, turning his pale hair green. He closed his eyes so he could play in the dark. Music rippled off his fiddle and vanished into blackness. The pirates called out songs for him, and he played “Highland Mary,” “The Irish Washerwoman,” and “Sheebeg, Sheemore.”
“Play ‘Londonderry Air,’ ” shouted one pirate.
“That’s a sissy song, Stone,” yelled another. “We don’t want to hear that.”
“I’ll show you a sissy song,” Stone yelled back, holding up his fists. “Two of ’em.”
Quickly, Gavin played the requested song, a slow, sad piece. He put everything he had into it, echoes of green Irish hills floating in fog, sad cemeteries with tilted gravestones, and stone cottages warmed by peat fires. The belligerence died away. The pirates fell silent. When the music ended, Stone wiped his nose on his stolen leather sleeve and acted as if he weren’t also wiping his eyes.
“Nice,” he coughed. “Very nice.” And the other pirates cheered.
“Sing for us, boy!” “Sing a song!” “A dancing song!”
“Sing us,” called out a too-familiar voice, “‘Tom of Bedlam.’ ”
Gavin’s head jerked around. Madoc Blue was staring up at him, thumbs hooked in his belt near his glass-bladed knife. A lump formed in Gavin’s throat. Had Blue learned Tom’s name and chosen that song on purpose? It might have been coincidence-“Tom of Bedlam” was the unofficial anthem for all airmen, and it wasn’t an unusual request.
“Go on, pretty lad,” Blue said. “You can’t tell me you don’t know it. Lie to me, and I’ll tie one of those fiddle strings around your balls until they turn… blue.”
The pirates roared with laughter. Gavin swallowed the lump in his throat and firmed his jaw. He wouldn’t give Blue any satisfaction. He set bow to strings and sang.
For to see Mad Tom of Bedlam, ten thousand miles I’d travel.
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes for to save her shoes from gravel.
And still I’d sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys, bedlam boys are bonny,
For they all go bare, and they live by the air, and they want no drink nor money.
The pirates stomped and drummed on the deck for the last two lines-the chorus was the reason the song was popular among airmen. Want, in this case, meant lack, and the idea that airmen were more than a little insane but also naked, drunk, and rich held great appeal. The song had endless verses, and Gavin settled in to sing them all, his voice pounding at the men like a weapon, letting his anger and fear come pouring out. The men clapped and sang along, oblivious. Blue, however, simply stared at Gavin, his thumbs still hooked in his knife belt. Without thinking, Gavin sang the verse:
I slept not since the Conquest. Till then I never waked,
Till the naked boy of love where I lay me found and stripped me naked.
Every pirate burst out into raucous laughs and cheers. Blue smirked and gave Gavin a pointed look. Gavin flushed bright red and sang the chorus as if he had no idea what anyone was laughing about, but quickly switched to a different verse.
My staff has murdered giants. My bag a long knife carries
To cut mince pies from grown men’s thighs and feed them to the fairies.
He met Blue’s gaze straight on at the last line. The original words ran children’s thighs. The pirates were drunk enough that they didn’t seem to notice the change, but Blue… Blue nodded slightly and turned away. Message understood. Gavin breathed a mental sigh of relief, sang one more verse, and called for a break. The pirates clapped him on the back and congratulated him on his skill, as if he were one of them, as if they hadn’t killed his best friend, his captain, and a dozen of his compatriots. Gavin forced a smile to his face, pretended to accept their accolades, then slipped away from the men, moving toward the lookout post. Overhead, the envelope blotted out the stars, but they formed a field of shining diamonds in all other directions. Ahead, the pirate airship was outlined in its own blue-green glow. A skeleton crew over there had the misfortune to miss the party. The air was cooler, crisper now that he was away from the press of bodies amidships. Gavin blew out a breath, glad to be apart from them for a moment, however short.
As Gavin passed the man-high bulk of the hydrogen extractor, a figure appeared from the shadows. Before Gavin could react, the figure grabbed Gavin by the shoulders, swung him around, and shoved his back against the extractor. Gavin’s heart lurched, and he barely kept hold of his fiddle.
“Wandering alone, love?” said Madoc Blue, the rum strong on his breath. “I’m ready to teach you how to dance.”
Fresh fear spurted through Gavin’s every vein. His breath came in short gasps and his fingers went cold around the neck of his fiddle. The bow clattered to the deck. Blue pressed his body against Gavin’s, his weight shoving Gavin harder against the extractor’s warm brass wall with his forearm across Gavin’s throat. Blue leaned in, his beard scratchy against Gavin’s face. Gavin choked, barely able to breathe.
“You think I’m stupid and ugly, pretty boy?” Blue growled. “You think I can’t get women? Do you?”
Gavin tried to answer, but he couldn’t get enough breath. His free hand flailed uselessly, looking for something, anything that might help.
“When there aren’t any women on deck,” Blue snarled, “a man’s gotta use whatever he can get his hands on.” He grabbed the string that held Gavin’s trousers up and snapped it with a sharp, one-handed jerk. Gavin tried to yell, but Blue’s forearm prevented him. The lack of air made him dizzy. “Got three or four friends who’ve had their eye on you, love. Once I break you in, I can show you around, collect a little money for your services. What do you think of that, hey?”
And then Gavin’s flailing hand found the hilt of Blue’s knife in his belt. He snatched it out of the holder and slashed downward. Gavin felt warm blood spurt against the thin cloth of his trousers. Blue screamed and instantly let Gavin go. He staggered back, clutching his upper leg. A loose flap of meat the size of Gavin’s hand hung there by a hinge of skin.
“You little shit!” Blue howled. “I’ll fucking kill you!”
He lunged for Gavin, who didn’t even think. He stepped aside and swung the knife again. It plunged up to the hilt into the side of Blue’s neck. Blue’s eyes flew wide-open. He made a terrible choking noise and clawed at the knife hilt with curved fingers, then fell twitching to the deck. The air filled with the stench of blood and bowel as he died.
Gavin didn’t have time to react, or even think. Blue’s screams summoned the rest of the men, who were only a dozen yards away. In an instant, Gavin found himself surrounded by angry pirates. Blood covered his hands and spattered across his face, and he was holding his trousers up with one hand. The other still clutched his fiddle.
“It’s the fiddler boy.” “He killed Blue!” “Cut his balls off!” “Throw him overboard!” “String him up!” “Shit! There’s blood everywhere!” “The captain!” “Make way for the captain!”
Captain Keene, short and stocky, shouldered his way through the crowd. He took in the scene, including Gavin’s torn trousers, with a glance. “What the hell happened?”
“He killed Blue!” someone shouted.
“I’m not asking you, Biggs,” Keene bellowed.
Gavin looked at the men. His mind froze. He couldn’t think. It was all too much. “I–I…,” he stammered.
“Did you kill him?” Keene asked.
“He… attacked me,” Gavin said. It was hard to talk. He wanted all those eyes to go away. “He-he shoved me against the extractor. He said he wanted…”
“Ah,” Keene said with understanding. “Well, you ain’t his first, but it looks like you’re definitely his last.” This got an uneasy chuckle from a few of the pirates. Gavin let himself hope that everything would be all right. Then Keene said, “But you’re a prisoner, boy, and you killed one of my men.” He raised his voice. “Saw his hands off and throw him overboard.”