Chase (ChronoShift Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF Page A

moving stores, scrubbing the deck.  Several of the men glanced their way as they came up the ladder, but didn't stop what they were doing.
    The 'Cap'n' stood in a doorway at the back of the ship, which probably led to his quarters.  His uniform was that of a British naval officer.
    "Shank!"  he called.
    All work on the ship instantly ceased.  The crew wanted to see the show.  A balding, sweaty beast of a man appeared at the captain's side.  Apparently, this was Shank.  The captain gave the man some orders, the details of which Mark and Hardy couldn't hear from their distance.
    "Sparrow, Taylor!"  Shank barked.
    Two surly men came to life and moved toward Mark and Hardy.
    "What do you think, Hardy?"
    "I think we can take ’em."
    "There's a lot of them, and we're in the middle of the ocean."
    Hardy grinned.  "Certainly you're not going to let a little thing like horrendous odds stop us."
    Mark grinned back.
    Sparrow and Taylor moved in closer, never guessing these two shanghaied men who'd just regained consciousness would be capable of putting up a fight of any sort.
    Hardy's left arm shot out, his fist slamming into Sparrow's throat.  Sparrow sputtered, hands to his Adam's apple, choking and gasping for breath as he sank to his knees.  Hardy hadn't hit him hard enough to kill, but the guy would be out of commission for a while.
    Taylor readied himself, seeing what Hardy had done, but it was too little, too late.  Mark feigned a move backward, but came around with a solid roundhouse to the temple.  Taylor fell to the deck, out cold.
    Instantly, ten to twelve more men leapt into action, but the confining space only allowed four or five to attack at once, and these men weren't trained in hand to hand combat.  Most of them probably brawled aplenty whenever they went ashore, but it was a far cry from the training Mark and Hardy had received in Special Forces.
    They were experts in this kind of fighting.  The odds were a little rough, but the fight resembled more of a dance moving to graceful music than a brawl.  Their movements complemented each other, flowing like finely-tuned choreography.   Men fell, and rose, and then fell again.
    They were having fun.
    Abruptly, Mark froze, which caused him to take a fistful to the temple.  The pain was ferocious, but he didn't move.  He was staring into the muzzle of a flintlock pistol.  He cleared his throat, letting Hardy know the gig was up.
     
    The captain was calmly pointing the large-barreled pistol at Mark's head, a bored expression on his face.  Shank held another gun on Hardy.  They were close enough they wouldn't miss, but far enough away Mark and Hardy would have no chance of disarming them before they fired.
    "Quite impressive, lads, but not good enough, I'm afraid.  Welcome to the HMS Huntingdon .  This here's my ship.  You've got exactly three seconds to decide if you want to submit to my authority and that of the British Navy, or we'll put a round through each of yer heads and dump you overboard for the sharks.  Makes no difference to me, so decide."
    Mark looked into the man's eyes and saw true apathy.  Relenting, he nodded once.
    "And you?"  He waved his pistol Hardy's way.
    Hardy also capitulated.  They were out of options.  They couldn't shift until they got close to land, and no matter how good they were, there were just too many men on the ship to overcome, especially if guns were involved.  It was less risky to give in until they were in a better position to shift away.
    "Good.  You two will man one of the cannon below during battle.  The rest of the time, you'll scour the decks.  Shank will instruct you once you've come to."
      Shank moved behind Mark.  He lifted him in a massive bear hug and squeezed, turning Mark's world a painful black.
     
    When he awoke, he was below deck again, together with Hardy.  Shank was immediately aware of their return to consciousness and yanked them up to their feet.  Sweat rolled down the man's