now that it was over, or seemed to be. A hand steadied me. “I am beside you,
Barnabas, but not strong enough to hold you if you fall, so please stand up!”
Abigail went into her cubbyhole of a cabin.
Tempany had lighted a lantern. We stepped into the cabin. He took up a bottle
and two glasses, and then he looked at me under his brows. “Rum? Or no rum? You
refused it before.”
“This once,” I said, “to revive the spirit.”
“Ah, we won’t talk of that. Your spirit seems in excellent shape, man. And
there’re a few things for us to discuss, even tonight.”
He paused, tasted his rum, then tossed it off, neat and quick. He swallowed,
looked at me and put his glass down. “Have you looked at her?”
“At Abigail?” I said.
“No, damn it, at the ship. Have you seen her by day?”
“I have.”
“Do you think she’ll float again?”
“I do, but if I am wrong there’s the Jack.”
“The what?”
“We can take the Jolly Jack. She’s a good sailer and well-armed, and she
deserves better than that lot aboard her now.”
“That would be difficult and dangerous,” he said, after awhile. “Let us have a
look at the Tiger.”
Yet it was sleep I needed, and I said as much. Reluctantly, he agreed, and when
I had stretched out on a settee in the cabin, he went on deck. Obviously if the
Tiger could be saved, he intended to save it.
I slept, and dreamed of the purple mountains I’d glimpsed far off in the
distance when up the river. Those mountains haunted me, and why I knew not. When
my eyes opened next, the day was well along and I could smell ham being cooked,
and a sound of rustling around in the galley.
For a few minutes I lay still. My mind was filled with the substance of the
dream. Somehow, come what may, I must see those mountains. I must walk their
trails, know them. Somehow all that was England had faded until it was difficult
to even recognize faces I used to know, I could not bring them to memory. I sat
up and pulled on my boots, buckled on my sword, then stood for a moment, peering
through the parted curtain of the stern lights.
The water was choppy, but not rough. The sky was overcast. I went out on deck,
and the first to greet me was Jublain.
“Tempany says you have some idea of taking the Jack?”
“If we need her.” I glanced toward the beach and the trees and sandhills beyond.
Nothing moved.
“It’s a bad lot aboard there. A bad, bad lot, but they can fight.”
“We’d have to get most of them ashore,” I suggested.
Tempany came over the rail. “We can float her,” he said, “and the holes can be
patched well enough, though there’s a deal of work to be done.”
He brushed salt from his hands. “What’s it like inland, Sackett? Is there land
worth having?”
“Some of the fairest I’ve seen. There’s game in plenty, and cattle would thrive
here, or pigs or sheep. Tempany,” I looked around at him, across my shoulder, “a
man could become wealthy here.”
“What of the Indians?”
“They war much with each other, so one could not be friends with all, and a man
must step carefully to learn of their ways, which be different than ours. But
with a good stockade and a few swivel guns a man could protect himself while
trying to deal fairly.”
Food was brought to the cabin table, and I ate, and well, yet there was more to
worry me, for I knew that Nick Bardle, a revengeful man, was still alive.
We needed a foremast, so with Jublain, Corvino, and Sakim and several of
Tempany’s men, I led the way into the woods to where some likely mast timber
could be found. While they felled the tree, I looked about, marking various
trees for future falling, and studying the land for a likely spot for a trading
station.
It must be on the river, in a position easily defended, with timber available
and a spring if possible.
We floated our tree down river and guided it about to the position of the Tiger.
All went well, and we saw nothing of Bardle nor his men, nor of the Jolly Jack.
Meanwhile we dug out around the hull, using lines and poles to get her on an
even keel. We were under no false notions about Bardle. He not only wanted our
ship and cargo. He also wanted us … dead!
We shifted two guns to the stern that could be brought to bear if an enemy
approached us from the waterside, as we more than half expected.
Meanwhile, I saw Abigail only at intervals.
Four days we labored, patching the hull, restepping the mast, repairing rigging.
I had much experience with splicing line, so could do my share, and did it.
We hoped to float free at an early hightide, yet I had an idea that Bardle was
also thinking of tides.
Jublain sat in the cabin with us, his dark, cynical face bored with our talk.
“Bardle knows about tides,” he said at last, “he knows all that we know, and the
man’s no fool. Why do you suppose he has done nothing?”
“We served him well on his last attempt,” Corvino replied. “He’s had his belly
full.”
Jublain snorted his disgust. “He waits for you to complete repairs,” he said.
“He wants no hulk on the beach, but a vessel afloat and loaded with cargo he can
trade or sell. He has twice or three times the men we have, and he’ll come when
he wills.”
Out upon deck I looked at the sky. Clouds bulked large, and the wind lifted,
rustling the rigging, flapping a loose corner of canvas. There was a spatter of
heavy drops.
A storm was coming, but storm or not we must use the tide when it came, and with
luck we might float free. Brian Tempany came out on deck, glanced at the sky and
around, then ordered his men to clean up what tools remained, to get them aboard
and make all fast.
“In the storm,” I said, “we might slip away.”
“We’ll ride out the storm,” Tempany said, “and leave when it has blown away. I
think we’ll have our chance then.”
Abigail came on deck. The wind was whipping her skirt about her legs, and I
braced myself against it, wishing I were warmer dressed.
“Barnabas Sackett,” she said. “It is a good name.”
“A name is what a man makes it,” I said. “My father did well with his and I hope
to do as much. The times are changing, and many people are restless with the
desire to better themselves. We have too many gentlemen who do nothing, are
nothing, and many a yeoman or apprentice with ability who would rise in position
if the chance existed.” I waved a hand. “Here there is no such restriction.”
“Perhaps. But when enough people come here, it will be the same. …”
I grinned cheerfully. “Then the secret is to come first and help to make the
rules by which the rest will live.”
“The King will do that,” she objected.
“No doubt. But the King is far away, and his word needs time in which to travel,
and men have a way of making their own adjustments. There is no Court here,
hence no need for courtiers. There is great need for strength, courage and
intelligence, and you will find those qualities as often or more among artisans
as gentlemen.”
“You like this?” she indicated the shore.
My eyes swept the coastline, green and lovely even under the sullen clouds. “I
do. It is a magnificent coast, a land filled with everything. I shall go away.
But I shall come back again.”
She looked at me for a long time, and what she might have said then I do not
know, for Captain Tempany emerged from the companionway shouting, “Stand by,
fore-and-aft! The tide’s coming in!”
Even as he spoke, a wave of water rolled past the hull, out past the bow, then
receded slowly, carrying away some of the sand with it.
“Here she comes!” Jublain shouted. “Sail, ho!”
It was the Jolly Jack, carrying a good stand of sail, coming down toward us.
Chapter 17
She was yet some distance off and the wind was wrong for her, but that she
intended to come up to us for an attack was obvious. And there we lay, still
aground, with only a few small guns to bear.
It was my time to act, and I acted now, without thinking, without speaking to
Tempany.
“Sakim! Jublain! Corvino! Here … to me!” I grabbed a passing sailor and shoved
him toward a gun. “Get a sling around it. Quick now!”
Sakim had come running and I directed him to haul our gig alongside and get into