“May I have it?”
“Not yet. I don’t want to loosen that tarp, and the less moving around we do, the better.”
A thought came to me. “Turley? There’s several muskets under that canvas. They’d better be checked, but I left them charged. There’s powder and shot there, too.”
He dug under the canvas and got out the muskets. He looked them over with satisfaction. “All shipshape, Cap’n!” His eyes swept the horizon. Nothing in sight but the distant shore. “Where we headin’ for?”
“South by a little west, right down the sound. There’s an inlet runs through the bank there into a little cove behind Cape Lookout. That’s where we’re going.”
After a bit I said, “It’s a chance we have to take. The Good Catherine should be beating back up the coast by now. The skipper told me he sometimes used that cove to lie up in. Anyway, it’s our best chance of sighting him.”
Turley was quiet for a moment. “What we don’t know was where the pirate ship is—if they are pirates.”
The clouds were low and the wind held fair. Off to our left now we could see the long yellow line of the inner side of the bank that broke the force of the sea. It was a long, narrow island stretching away for how many miles I knew not, but fifty or sixty miles of which I knew. The Atlantic side was straight and smooth, offering no inlets, no passages for most of its length. On the inner side facing toward the sound, the shore of the bank was broken by many small, sandy islets and shoals.
An hour passed. I glanced at the sky. Only clouds, broken here and there now, showing patches of blue. We could not see the Atlantic across the dunes of the outer banks. Had a ship been there we would have missed it.
“Who were those men?” I asked suddenly, of Guadalupe. “How did they come upon you?”
“I know not. Suddenly they were all about us, and we had no chance. Yet they seemed to know who we were and where we had come from, and they addressed both Don Diego and Don Manuel by name. They said Don Manuel had a ship soon to be here.”
“Aye, I heard them speak of that. The San Juan de Dios was never in danger of sinking. She had only made water, I do not know how, and somehow they managed to frighten Don Diego.”
“He knows nothing of the sea. He is much thought of as an administrator, but he has crossed the sea but once and knows it not.”
She watched the sea for a moment, then said, “There was one among them … not much older than you, I think, who seemed a not bad man. He would have helped us had he been able, and I believe he intended to. He said their captain was interested only in money … and power. They were all Englishmen, I believe.”
The wind seemed to be picking up. I eased the tiller to bring us a little closer to the outer island. On the chart I had been shown the cove behind Cape Lookout and the narrow inlet that led to it from the sound. Turley glanced at the sky, and then at me. The clouds were building up and the southeastern sky had a yellow look that I did not like.
Turley and Armand were taking in sail. Suddenly Turley seemed to stop all movement, looking back over my head. “Sail, ho!” he yelled then.
Turning, I looked aft. A pinnace by the look of her, three masts, and a good ship under sail. She was crowding on all canvas, trying to overtake us.
Obviously she had come from behind one of the shore-side islands and was no more than a half-mile off and closing fast.
Another glance shoreward told me we were coming up to the coastal banks and fast … but none too fast. Yet the pinnace drew more water than we and would not dare, or so I hoped, follow us much further.
Guadalupe leaned closer to me. “Tatton,” it was the first time she had called me that, “don’t let them take me. Those men … the way they looked at me and talked about me. I’d rather die.”
“I won’t,” I replied grimly. “I’ll see them all in hell first.”
My words were brave but the pinnace was coming on swiftly. When I glanced at them again they seemed to be making ready with a bow gun.
Yellow was the sand on the long isle eastward, yellow under the dull gray sky where the winds lurked. There was a distant flash of lightning and a roll of thunder, and I could hear the beat of the waves upon the outer shore. Salt spray spattered my face and from behind me I heard a dull boom that was not thunder, and then a whistling from overhead and a shot plunged into the sea some twenty yards beyond us—too close to give me pleasure.
An island, a small, sandy cay, loomed on our right. We slid behind it, with the outer bank closing on our left. I glanced back. The pinnace was coming on, although under shortened sail. There was a shoreline ahead of us too, not much more than a mile away. The pinnace fired again, but again the shot passed overhead.
“We will need the muskets,” I said to Turley. He nodded. He had shortened sail because of the wind. Now, sheltered by the islands, he raised the sail again and we moved more swiftly. The gun boomed again, and again it was a miss, but closer, much closer.
“Cap’n?” Turley said.
I glanced around. The pinnace was hove to and lowering a boat. Men were getting into it.
Guadalupe said quietly, “I can fight, Tatton, and I can shoot. And I’d not mind shooting any of them, for they are a bad lot … except for Tosti, that is.”
Something within me stopped cold. “Who?” I said.
“Tosti,” she replied. “Tosti Padget.”
31
That one who had been lying on the ground! No wonder he had seemed familiar! Tosti Padget here, and a pirate! Yet, why not? He had been drifting, at loose ends, with no destination in view. Yet, how had he come to this?
The wind had fallen, for we had glided into that narrow channel that led into the cove, and the sandbanks and trees on either side cut the force of the wind. Armand and Felipe were bending to the oars, but ours was a lost cause. Glancing back, I saw the ship’s boat clearing the side of the pinnace with at least a dozen rowers.
Again I looked ahead. Turley was rowing also, but with a musket by his side. I recovered my own from beneath the tarp and looked to its charging. Then the pistols.
The wind touched my cheek, but it barely filled the canvas, helping us not enough. Mentally, I made the calculation, and if my judgment was correct we would reach the cove on the other side just about the time they came up with us.
Yet what had I to expect at that haven which we sought so desperately? Exactly nothing.
Ships used it for shelter from the storms, and one such seemed to be building, for the clouds were swelling into great masses off to the southeast, and the wind blew in fitful, spiteful gusts. The Good Catherine had used this place … but that she would be there was unlikely, or that she would take part in a fight that seemed to have nothing to do with her. Unfortunately, I had been given up for dead long since.
“Guadalupe,” I said, “can you steer a boat?”
“I often have.”
“Here, then. I think some shooting is in order.” If the wars had taught me anything it was something of muskets. Beyond a hundred yards their aim was a chancy thing, yet it was worth a gamble, and with a little elevation …
Putting my back against the boxes covered with the tarpaulin and settling myself down, I lifted the musket. “Lie down!” I told her.
She did as she was bade, as did Conchita, and I took a careful sight, then touched off my shot, tilting the gun to get proper elevation. I had no great confidence in the weapon, but my shot landed among them—although with what damage I knew not. Yet they fell off for a moment, and seemed none too anxious to provide me with a second chance.
My second was a clear miss, yet not by much, for it hit the gunwale and bounced off into the sea. Shooting at such a distance was unheard of, yet I had noticed the balls carried further than expected although without accuracy. I deduced that given proper elevation, a ball would drop among them.
The pinnace itself was now coming, slowly, taking soundings as it came.