The Pirates and the Nightmaker Read Online Free PDF Page A

said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever done anything for any other reason, when I consider the matter. But be grateful … my selfishness has been your delivery.’
    I raised my arms to look at them once more. What had happened to me?
    ‘There’s more,’ whispered Mr Wicker, ‘much more and more to come. But for the moment, why do you not try yourself out?’
    I understood why he was whispering. Otherwise, the other men on board would think he was crazed, so crazed he was talking to the air itself.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Get closer to them. I’ll swear nobody will grab you now.’
    ‘I’ll rock the boat.’
    ‘Try …’
    I tried. I made my way past him and stepped towards the men. The boat did not rock or wobble. It simply rolled gently in the ocean swell as it had before. It rolled idly from side to side as if I weighed nothing. I took a couple of paces further until I could have reached out and touched the nearest slouching sailor.
    The jolly-boat gave not the slightest indication that somebody was standing upright and walking. I had no more effect on the boat’s motion than would a butterfly.
    I was suddenly aware of something else. All day, the heat had beaten down upon us and the Caribbean sun was still shining brightly, yet I felt no warmth, nor cold for that matter. Somehow this new thing I had become was beyond heat and cold.
    I turned to Mr Wicker. ‘What has happened to me?’
    ‘We have more to do,’ whispered Mr Wicker. ‘Come back to me.’
    I had no choice. I turned and retreated to the prow again and stood before him. Once more he stared at me gravely and then lifted that hand. Once more I was drawn into his eyes and again the swirling mist and then the darkness.
    This time I felt I knew what to expect, and sure enough as the darkness dissipated and the mist began to swirl once again the distant figure began to emerge. But I had been too sure of myself. This time the figure was different, much different, and as it turned to look upon me again I could not help but gasp.
    The figure now had wings, great green angel’s wings rising from his shoulders and falling down his back.
    And the figure once again approached me through the ever-thinning mist. As before, his face was impassive, but unlike earlier I could now see the wings, beautiful green wings, outstretched behind him. As before the creature raised his arms as if reaching for the heavens, but this time he now leapt and as he leapt his wings lifted and beat at the air and the creature kept rising into a sky which grew darker and darker as he rose, until he was finally swallowed by blackness.
    I was swallowed by this blackness as well. But then, as earlier, it began to fade and gradually the day returned.
    ‘Excellent,’ Mr Wicker murmured.
    And this was how it happened. This was how I was transported, strangely, miraculously from a loblolly boy into the Loblolly Boy and my world changed forever.

    I stood before Mr Wicker, blinking against the light. My body felt strange, different, and I glanced over my shoulder and then over the other shoulder, knowing even as I did so what I would find.
    I saw the green feathers layered upon each other with an emerald iridescence. I flexed my shoulders and they rippled with the desire for flight.
    ‘I’m sure you’ll pick it up very quickly, little Loblolly Boy,’ murmured Mr Wicker, and in case I did not understand his meaning he lifted his hands to hold up the sky.
    I did understand.
    Some impulse within me needed no second bidding.
    I leapt into the air and it was as if I had been leaping into the air all of my existence. My wings lifted me higher and higher and I turned seeking an updraught and found one and I rose and rose, my wings beating easily, effortlessly.
    Then, stretching my wings like a gull, I let myself glide in a great lazy circle. I looked below. Bobbing gently on the glittering blue water, the jolly-boat floated, the men on board no bigger than buttons. Only one looked up to