The Death-Defying Pepper Roux Read Online Free PDF Page A

to use letterhead paper,” said the Duchess, tugging the sheet out of Pepper’s fist. He memorized the figures—45° 20' N, 6° 54' W—then set it alight with a match. “Especially with the added sketch, silly boys. Tell them not to do it again, chéri , when you collect your bonus.” He reached out a finger, lifted Pepper’s bangs, and winced at the size of the bump on his forehead.
    “You don’t understand, Duchesse! It’s a sign! That’s where! That’s where it’s going to happen!”
    Duchesse studied the captain’s pinched, weary, tearstained face for a long time. “Mmm. But then it won’t be our first, will it, dear heart?” he said, leaning on the words as if they were brass tacks. “You and I are old hands at this game. Like undertakers, we deal in coffins…. It’s a bit late for us to try to change the way things work in the coffin trade .”
    And Pepper took the hint and fell silent. Becauseeither he was Paul Roux, an ignorant boy pretending to be his father, or he was Captain Gilbert Roux, drink-sodden Old Man of L’Ombrage and several other ill-fated ships. Pepper was going to die, at 45° 20' N, 6° 54' W, but then—as Duchesse said—it was a bit late to try to change Fate.
     
    Pepper sat for so long—frozen with fear, head throbbing—that the sun passed overhead and L’Ombrage chugged into the Bay of Biscay. The speaking tube squealed once, but he ignored it. He heard—briefly—the hatch cover outside being raised by winch and cable. Strange. (Perhaps England was very close now—how would he know?) The Duchess came with a tray of supper, but Pepper did not open the door to him. “I’m not hungry. Go away.”
    It was a shame. He had loved the sea—every indigo smell of it, every dolphin, every kicking wave, every whooping cheer that broke from the ship’s whistle. He loved Duchesse’s scrambled eggs, and the gold braid on his captain’s jacket, and sliding the cap onto his head, folding his ears forward to keep it high on his brow. A shame for it all to end. But tonight he would—hereally must—search the ship until he found his father, wherever he was lurking, and hand back the cap, the papers, the ship’s log: name and rank. Say sorry. Gilbert Roux (Captain) might flog him or hang him from the yardarm for piracy, but it could not be helped. Pepper had not been to confession for a week, so if he died now, unpunished, he would certainly go to Hell and be punished forevermore, and that would be worse.
    Aunty Mireille had taught him lots about Hell.
     
    That night, moonlight puddled and curded on the decks, turning them white. Pepper half expected to skid as he scoured the ship for Gilbert Roux. He looked in the paint store and under the lifeboat covers. The hatch of the hold had indeed been lifted slightly—as if to keep the scrap iron from suffocating—but nothing moved down there. In fact all he found, after ten minutes’ searching…was Roche sitting naked astride the ship’s rail.
    “Be very careful, Mr. Roche,” said Pepper, worried that the man might slip into the sea.
    Roche’s head snapped up, and the moonlight turned his face ghost white.
    “What are you doing?” asked Pepper, knowing that itis polite to express an interest in other people’s work.
    Roche opened his left hand, and Pepper went closer, thinking he was being shown something. It seemed to be one of those brackets used to hang up the fire buckets. Moving close also filled his nose with a familiar smell: one he had not smelled since it had sunk its teeth in his ear. Fate smelled of garlic and rum, thought Pepper, as Roche swung his leg inboard, shifted the metal bracket into his right fist, and slashed at him with its hook.
    “Skeleton Man.”
    Pepper ran, but Roche was so close behind that the hook hit him repeatedly on the shoulders, then snagged in the half belt of his jacket and was pulled out of Roche’s fist. Pepper collided with the various sand-filled fire buckets that Roche had lifted