Shoving them roughly, the guards herded them up to the wall-walk and began pushing them toward the parapet.
"What are you going to do to us?" Sammy asked.
"Please, mercy… I'm too young!" Cody pleaded.
"Quiet… this is your chance to learn how to fly," one of the guards mocked.
"Hurry up and throw them! We're needed down below!" another soldier shouted.
The three kids began to struggle as they were dragged toward the edge. Then, Sammy bit one of the soldiers' hands and kicked wildly. The guard tried to restrain her, but she broke free and, in a quick motion, snatched his sword. She wielded it with desperate courage, forcing the soldiers to back off. One of them reached for his belt to draw his pistol and stepped back to load it—
but just then, an explosion shook the wall and knocked everyone to the ground.
They rose amid clouds of dust, dazed.
"What just happened?" Cody coughed. "Sammy… what did you do?"
"Me? We're under bombardment!" Sammy shouted, brushing rubble off herself.
All around them, several soldiers lay unconscious.
"Do you think they're…?" Pafi murmured.
"Dead… yeah, looks like it," Sammy replied coldly.
Another round of cannon fire announced a second strike. Instinctively, they hit the ground again.
"We have to run," Sammy commanded.
They hurried down along the fortress walls, wrapped in chaos. Soldiers were rushing to the parapets, shouting orders, while cannonballs rained from the sea. One blast hit the wall directly, opening a breach. The kids took advantage and slipped through. They ducked down for a moment, then bolted.
Out at sea, the Spanish warships fired with terrifying precision. Sammy stopped, mesmerized: the ships spewed fire methodically, like infernal machines. Each blast echoed through her chest, yet reminded her of the stories her grandfather had written.
Cody ran back and grabbed her arm.
"This isn't a storybook—let's go!"
Sammy snapped out of her trance, and the three of them ran down a path that bordered the cliff. As they descended, Cody tripped over a leather tube—Wilbur's tube, the one he had thrown earlier.
At that moment, the elf appeared, fleeing desperately from the fortress. Overcoming his fear of heights, Wilbur crept along the wall, searching for the tube… and saw it in Cody's hands.
"You little bastard! Give that back!"
But Cody was already running with his friends, descending the narrow path toward the beach. Wilbur, swallowing his vertigo, chased after them.
Meanwhile, Hawk was withstanding the bombardment in his quarters. An explosion shook the corridor, and the door burst into splinters. Pirates stormed in, weapons raised, moving through the smoke and the distant roar of artillery. Soldiers tried to repel them.
Seeing himself surrounded and the enemy fleet in the bay, Hawk rushed to his office to retrieve the navigation charts. He opened the secret compartment… empty.
"That fat bastard!" he growled. "Only one could've done this… Wilbur! That traitor…"
A sergeant burst in, gasping.
"Your lordship, we must retreat!"
"Not until we find Wilbur! I want to gut him myself!"
Grudgingly, they headed to the secret passage. But before they could open the hatch, another explosion forced them to retreat. Pirates poured out of the tunnel, firing at point-blank range. Simultaneously, another group burst in through the main entrance.
Hawk dove to the floor, flipping a heavy table to use as cover. Smoke filled the room. Echoes of musket fire, splinters, and screams—total chaos.
As the dust began to settle, a tall figure emerged through the smoke, silhouetted by the flames consuming the tapestries.
"Carioca…" Hawk muttered.
"You're surrounded, your lordship," the pirate said with scorn, his sword still steaming.
Hawk slowly got to his feet, a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other. His face was smeared with soot.
"In the name of the King of England… I will never surrender!"
He tried to shoot, but before he could pull the trigger, a bullet struck his shoulder. He staggered and dropped the weapon. The shot had come from Carioca himself, standing firm.
The remaining soldiers dropped their weapons and surrendered.
Hawk looked up, a twisted smile on his face.
"Well, well… A pleasure to see old ghosts. I'm surprised you're still walking around with your head on your shoulders, my dear Carioca."
"The pleasure's mine," the pirate replied with a sharp smile. "It seems your last venture paid off… a little too much for a common pirate with delusions of nobility."
"I'll remind you I was a privateer," Hawk snapped through gritted teeth. "Appointed by the king himself."
"In exchange for betraying your own and handing them over to be executed for crimes you yourself committed," said Carioca, unwavering.
"Betrayal? Call it what you will. Only those who know when to switch sides survive. That move earned me a title… and an island."
Carioca smirked and offered an exaggerated, theatrical bow.
"Then allow me to inform you, Your Excellency… your reign is over."
******
The kids climbed down the path and, after navigating the last stretch between the rocks, reached the beach. On the final jump, Cody fell flat on his face in the sand, while Sammy landed on her feet with agility. From there, they could clearly see the ships bombarding the fort and the town.
"We have to go to the city… they might land and slaughter everyone," said Cody, brushing sand off his face.
"What if they found my grandfather and took him to the fort?" said Sammy, watching the ships fire. "We have to find him."
"Go back to the fort? Are you crazy?" exclaimed Pafi.
"They must've taken him already… just accept it, Sammy!" Cody replied, frustrated.
"I need to be sure… I'll climb up alone if I have to. I have to make sure they didn't capture him."
"Be reasonable!" Cody pleaded. "Let's get out of here before they come ashore!"
Sammy shoved Cody, but he grabbed her arm.
"Don't make me use my fist!"
"My grandfather must be in there. He had a journal…" Sammy insisted. "We have to find it!"
"A journal?" asked Cody, thinking hard. "Oh right! He gave it to me to hand to my aunt Connie, with instructions to burn it if he didn't come for it by midnight."
"And you couldn't have said that earlier?" Sammy protested, exasperated.
"You know I always forget stuff!"
A cannonball whistled overhead and exploded atop the cliff. The kids hit the sand. When they looked up, they saw the ships shifting position, aiming now at the town.
"We have to hurry before there's nothing left of Tiburón Bay," said Sammy.
Determined, they ran along the narrow strip of beach next to the high rocks. Waves licked at the stretch of sand or crashed against the cliffs, while the deafening roar of the cannons overpowered even the sound of the sea.
Just as they were leaving the cliffs behind, Wilbur appeared from behind a boulder and pointed a loaded pistol at them.
"Hold it right there, you goddamn gang of bratty little shits," he spat.
The kids froze, confused—except for Sammy, who understood immediately.
"Well, speak of the devil," she said sarcastically.
"Mr. Wilbur," Cody chimed in. "What's going on? What's gotten into you? We're running from a massacre."
"Where's the tube?" Wilbur demanded.
"What tube?" Sammy replied, feigning ignorance.
"This tube, I suppose," said Cody, pulling it out. "I found it by the wall."
Wilbur extended his hand and wiggled his fingers impatiently, signaling him to hand it over. Cody was about to toss it, but Sammy snatched it from him.
"Tell me where my grandfather is first," she demanded.
"How the hell should I know? I think he was taken by some German mercenaries… but enough games, give me the tube!"
"Or what?" Sammy challenged.
"Need I remind you who's holding the weapon here?"
"Sammy, give him the damn tube so he'll let us go," said Cody.
"No… not until he tells me what I want to know," she insisted.
Wilbur sighed, exasperated.
"Look, I admire your grandfather. I'm a big fan of his books—though the last one was a letdown. But I won't hesitate to shoot you if you don't obey."
Sammy smiled and shook her head. Then Wilbur gritted his teeth, aimed at her, and just as he was about to fire, she threw herself to the ground. The shot missed. Sammy screamed and, like in an improvised dance, the three teens hurled themselves at the fat man, knocked him down in the sand, beat him, and ran off.
"Damn brats!" Wilbur shouted, getting up to chase them—but as he rose, he tripped and fell face-first into the sand.
"How did you know he'd miss?" asked Cody as they ran.
"Wilbur's a desk jockey… and a pretentious writer. Your aunt Connie has better aim than him," Sammy replied.
"If he'd really meant it, he would've fired already," added Pafi.
The teens ran into the forest. They knew the terrain well and dodged pig traps, maintaining their lead. Wilbur, meanwhile, lumbered after them through the trees.
"I'll catch you!" he panted. "I'll catch you and wring your little necks… but first I have to run… yes, run… then I'll catch you."
Just then, he stepped into a snare trap and ended up dangling by one foot as the kids escaped toward the beach where the town lay.