‘That would be the Dancer,’ the man said. ‘She’s a schooner.’
‘That’s interesting. Is she here now?’
‘No, she sailed for Jamaica two days ago.’
Carter looked at the old man in admiration. ‘You are very well informed,’ he said.
The man looked pleased. ‘It’s a small island, Father, and I’ve lived here all my life.’
‘Tell me,’ Carter asked. ‘How many men live in that dockyard?’
‘That I can’t tell you, Father. When there’s a ship in there, hundreds of men come ashore. The army is building a hospital on the heights. They think it will keep them clear of the fever.’
‘You don’t agree?’ John asked.
‘Fever is an act of god, Father, you know that.’
‘That’s true, but we should help him when we can, should we not?’
‘If you say so, Father.’ The man did not look convinced.
The cart arrived at the dock gates. ‘I’ll wait for you here, my son,’ John said, climbing down.
‘I’ll not be too long, Father,’ the man called as he drove into the yard.
The marine guard was looking at John with interest so he walked a short way back towards the harbour. He had all the information he wanted, but the way back was long so he would wait for his new friend.
Finding a large rock under a tree, Carter sat in the shade and waited for almost an hour before he saw the cart coming. As he sat once more beside the old man, he asked, ‘Is there a ship in the dockyard at the moment?’
‘No, Father, the sloop Trojan has just left,’ his friend told him.
Once they had travelled to the far side of the bay, John said goodbye to the old man and set off on foot.
The walk back to the pirate camp was all uphill and it was becoming dark by the time John could give his final instructions to his men.
‘You have food enough,’ he said. ‘Don’t move around too much and stay off the skyline. If you are seen, hope they hang you because I’ll take days to kill you.’
Just after midnight he was picked up from the beach.
‘Set for St. John’s,’ he ordered and leaving the three-man crew to work the ship, he went down to his cabin.
St. John’s was silent when they arrived in the early morning, no ships lay at the quay. Carter had hoped to see Ben’s schooner anchored off, but the bay was empty.
He left his ketch in the south bay as usual and walked into town.
‘I’ve not see him for weeks.’ Bill’s tone was snivelling; he had hoped never to see the pirate again. Every time the man walked into his tavern, he expected to hear the sound of soldiers surrounding the house.
Carter stared into his eyes. ‘Get a message to him: I want him here and soon.’
In fact, it was two days later when Ben walked into the bar. He had seen the ketch and decided to hide his ship further away. The bar was empty, apart from Carter. Ben had waited until almost two in the morning before coming in.
‘What can I do for you, John?’ he said, sitting down opposite the pirate.
‘I’ve been eating this fool’s food for two days, waiting for you,’ John snarled.
‘I didn’t know you were coming, John.’ Ben was nervous. ‘What’s the matter?’
Carter leaned forward. ‘Once this dog is dead I’m gone, away to the east. I’m sick of these islands. You have to sell the gold I gave you and pay up.’
Ben struggled to keep the relief he felt off his face. ‘That’s not a problem, John. I’ll have the money for you tomorrow, but tell me what of the other, the main load of gold?’
‘That’s not your problem. I’ll take it with me.’
Ben’s expression grew eager. ‘I could help you lift it,’ he said.
‘I need no help from you or any other.’ John’s temper was rising.
‘Of course not,’ Ben hastily agreed.
‘I just thought that friends should help each other, that’s all.’
Carter stood. ‘Just get me my money and bring it to the ketch,’ he called over his shoulder as he walked out of the door.
Ben walked over to the bar where the landlord sat pretending not to be listening. ‘That madman is going to sail away with a king’s ransom in gold,’ he said.
‘Good riddance,’ Bill threw back. ‘I’ll be happy to get out of this alive.’
‘Wait a minute.’ Ben held up his hand. ‘What if his crew knows where it’s buried? If he was dead they would be happy to share.’
‘You would be the one to kill him, I suppose.’ Bill grinned.
‘No,’ said Ben, ‘but I know many who would for a few gold pieces.’
‘What if the crew doesn’t know where the gold is?’
‘Then I don’t have to pay him his money.’ Ben smiled. ‘And we could sell his ketch.’
The landlord thought it over. ‘If he was not killed and learned it was us, our deaths would not be easy ones.’
‘He could never know,’ Ben assured him. ‘Never.’
Carter had brought only three men to man the ketch; his plan was to kill them once the gold was lifted. The ship’s ballast was small stones packed into wooden boxes built into the bilge; he intended to replace the stones with gold. Then, having got rid of the three men, take on some of the brig’s crew and sail east. The pirates would not know what they were transporting.
As he walked back to the bay, where the ketch lay, he went over his plan in his mind. It would be easier to give all a share, but the gold was his, his plan, his risking.
Perhaps he would reduce the crew to half and then give each man a small share; when he arrived wherever he was going he would need a crew. Also the ketch had no guns so he would need the brig. However much gold he had, he would never give up this life.
Arriving back at the beach, he launched the skiff and sculled across to the ketch, his men watched him climb on board in silence. One of them stepped forward.
‘Can we have a run ashore?’ he said. ‘Just for a few hours.’
‘Go then,’ Carter replied. ‘But I’ll gut the man who speaks a word in the wrong place.’
The three pirates were in good humour when they reached the village. Just being away from Carter was a holiday in itself.
They made straight for the tavern and kicked the door until the landlord got out of his bed and let them in.
‘Rum,’ they demanded, ‘and get some grub on.’
‘It’s six in the morning,’ Bill complained.
‘Who taught you to tell the time?’ one pirate replied and they all laughed.
By noon all three were roaring drunk; two hours later they slept on the bar floor.
Ben stood and looked down at the three drunks. ‘Where did they come from?’ he asked.
‘Carter’s ship,’ Bill told him. ‘I heard them talking; he’s alone out there.’
‘When they wake give them more rum, keep them here.’
Later that evening, on one side of the tap room Ben whispered,
‘You’re six men and he’s alone; it should be easy.’ Ben looked at the men he had gathered round him. ‘You must be careful; he’s a hard man. There’s ten gold pieces for each one of you when he’s dead.’
‘Who is this man?’ one asked.
Ben smiled. ‘Just a sea captain that I don’t like. Now be off with you and take pistols.’
The men decided to wait until dark. They hid in the scrub bushes at the water’s edge and watched the ketch.
As the light faded they made ready.
Three of them lay down in the bottom of the skiff, hoping that if Carter looked out he would think they were his crew returning. There was no sign of life on board the ketch as they bumped alongside. Thrusting their pistols into their belts, they climbed up the ship’s side. The first died as he put his head over the rail.
Carter’s cutlass sliced his neck through; the next man’s skull was split from top to bottom and a third was stabbed in the chest.
Two more fell back into the boat as
Carter emptied his pistols then Carter leapt down after them, striking the last man in the face as he struggled to free his pistol.
Carter grinned as he looked at the two who still lived. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘we can have some fun.’
The screams slowly died down and Carter threw the dead bodies over the side. He had learned all he needed to know some time before. It was time now to visit the tavern.
In the bar Ben strode up and down, whilst the landlord who sat leaning against a barrel said, ‘Sit down and have a drink, Ben. They will be back soon.’
‘They take too long,’ Ben replied. ‘They should have been back hours ago.’
‘Relax, man, there are six of them.’
‘Yes, I should have sent twice as many.’
There was a sound of footsteps on the dock outside. ‘At last,’ said Bill.
Ben walked towards the door and froze when John Carter stood in the doorway.
‘John.’ Ben stepped back.
‘You didn’t expect me?’ Carter smiled.
‘I, er, thought you asleep by now,’ Ben stammered.
Carter walked into the room; his three men slept in one corner. Walking across to them, he kicked the first in the stomach. ‘Up, scum,’ he shouted.
As he turned back to Ben he had a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. ‘No, John,’ Ben screamed. The pistol went off and to Ben’s surprise he was unhurt. The landlord, however, clutched his stomach and fell to the floor.
‘Did you think I would let you off with a bullet, Ben?’ Carter’s smile broadened.
‘John, let’s talk. This is all a mistake.’ Ben backed towards the door.
‘Yes,’ said Carter, ‘and the mistake was yours.’ With the speed of a striking snake Carter leapt across the room and struck Ben in the side of the head with the pistol.
The three pirates were struggling to their feet.
‘Outside and wait,’ Carter ordered.
As they left a young lad in a night shirt came through a door behind the bar. ‘Dad,’ he called when he saw the landlord writhing on the floor.
Carter grabbed him by the neck and throwing him across a table, cut both Achilles tendons in his ankles; he then let him fall to the floor.
Taking his time Carter walked behind the bar. Selecting a cask of rum he walked back to the men and poured the spirit over all three. He had been enjoying the boy’s screaming and as the boy subsided into sobs, he put his knee on the lad’s back and lifting his night shirt cut deep across both buttocks. Happy with the renewed screams he took up a lamp from the bar and moved over to Ben, who was beginning to come round.
‘Goodbye, Ben,’ he said in a friendly tone and smashed the lamp cross Ben’s rum-soaked body. The flames leapt from man to man and then licked at the wooden furniture.
Outside Carter led his men down to the dock and had them row him off to find Ben’s schooner; her crew slept and died without knowing they had come on board.
After cutting her cable, the pirates set sail and as they left the bay watched the tavern burn.
As soon as they came alongside the ketch, Carter had Ben’s strong box taken to his cabin. They then got underway, leaving the schooner to drift ashore.
Carter’s plan had been to lift the gold from Farmer’s Island and then stand on and off Antigua waiting for news from his men ashore. For this reason he had taken only a small crew. Once the gold was hidden in the ketch’s bilge he intended to dispose of the only three men who knew it was there. Now he began to change his mind; if his plan failed, the ketch might be lost and the gold with it. No, it was better by far to come back for his treasure once he had dealt with the lieutenant and the navy’s pathetic plan to catch him.
He would, however, check on the gold before going back to Antigua.
As they approached Farmer’s Island sometime later, a Spanish warship was sighted on the horizon. Carter quickly brought the ketch onto the wind and fled east, staying well out to sea for a day and a half before venturing back to the island.
They arrived just in time to get through the reef before dark, anchoring in the middle of the south bay. They cooked a meal before turning in for the night.
Carter sculled ashore alone before first light the next morning and pulling the skiff up onto the beach, walked into the trees.
He had walked some distance when, to his surprise, he saw a soldier running towards him. He ducked behind a tree and as the man passed struck him across the back of the head with his pistol butt.
After waiting a while to see if any more soldiers would come, Carter dragged the man into a small clearing. The man was young, not much more than a boy and a lieutenant at that. As he spread-eagled the boy and tied him down, Carter smiled to himself. He would soon know what the army was doing here.
Once he had finished with the lieutenant, Carter ran to the hiding place and then, having given it a cursory glance, made haste back to the ship. He cursed his luck. If he had brought his full crew with him, he could have finished the bastard lieutenant here and now. Instead he must get over the horizon as quickly as possible.
His plan would still work, however, as long as they thought he was fooled.
They cleared the bay and put the island below the horizon without sighting any shipping.
So they still look not just for me, Carter mused, but for the gold as well.
He would change the plan once again and sail north to meet with the brig. There he would take on board plenty of men and return to Antigua.
Again they sighted warships as they made their way north: the first, a French sloop in the distance; the second, an English sixty-four, had come round the north end of an island out of a rain squall. If she had been a frigate, they would have been in trouble, but the ketch easily out-sailed the large warship by working to windward as usual. Carter was flying the English flag but had no interest in being stopped and questioned.
The rain squalls continued as they neared their destination. As they rounded the island off the sound, they had to heave to as the reef entrance was blanked out by solid rain. The reef ran straight and long on the starboard side and was easy to see, but to larboard a reef jutted out from a second island, closing the entrance to a narrow cut.
Once the weather cleared Carter worked into the sheltered water of the sound and following the shore to the east anchored astern of the brig.
As he climbed up the brig’s chains from the skiff, Carter called to the Indian. ‘I hope you have a good lookout; this place is a trap if the English come.’
On the tall hill above, the Indian replied.
In the cabin Carter sat and pulled off his boots. ‘I want twenty-five men in the ketch,’ he said.
‘That will leave me short of men.’ The man who spoke was Owen, one of the original pirate crew. ‘Only seventeen men to man and fight the brig.’
‘No matter,’ Carter replied. ‘When we fight, the ketch will be with you. I intend to close with the schooner; if the odds are good, I’ll board him, if not I’ll show myself and then run to you here. Between us we will finish the little sod once and for all.
Whatever happens I want the navy to find the schooner anchored here, with the gold gone and all dead aboard her. The rigging will be hung with the pretty lieutenant’s insides, and his prick will be hanging from the bowsprit.’ Carter laughed.
He became serious.
‘You will take on water.
There’s a stream here?’ he asked.
Owen nodded. ‘Then keep your casks full; once this is over we have a long voyage ahead of us.’
‘To where do we sail?’
‘East, well away from these damned islands,’ Carter told him.
‘That’s good,’ said Teema. ‘This place is too dangerous for the likes of us.’
‘Why don’t we arm the ketch?’ Owen asked.
‘Because I want to look like any other trader until the time is right. Now get started. I want to be out of here at first light on the morrow.’
It took time, the k
etch was all but out of water and food, and the supplies had to be transferred by boat as Carter would not have the two ships alongside each other.
Once they were finished, the men moved their gear across to the ketch. That night the sound was silent and still, not a breath of wind disturbed the surface of the water.
‘This is a trap,’ Carter said once again. ‘If we had to move, we would need to row the ships to sea. Is there no other way out?’
‘Only over the eastern reef,’ Owen told him. ‘You could make it with a longboat but not with a ship. There is a channel to the west, but who knows how much water is in it.’
‘Find out,’ Carter told him. ‘It might save you from the rope.’
Early next morning Carter took the Good Fortune out into clear water and turned south once again. Today the sky was clear and the breeze firm from the northeast; a fast passage looked assured. Six hours later, however, an English frigate was sighted on the horizon heading in their direction.
As before they set to windward, but the frigate followed and with her great spread of canvas soon began to gain on them. Carter turned east. Sailing freer, they seemed to be holding their own, but it was an illusion. As night approached it became obvious she was catching them. Once again Carter turned to windward, but this time he tacked; the frigate followed so Carter tacked again and again. This was small boat tactics and each tack put the ketch further ahead. As darkness fell they were far enough clear to alter course and lose their pursuer in the night.
‘He wanted us,’ the Indian said.
‘He can want what he likes,’ Carter snarled.
Keeping well away from land, Carter sailed east and then southeast, only to turn east again every time an island showed on the horizon.
At last he decided he was off Antigua and at the appointed time closed with the island to see two lights burning on the hillside. A man was sent to bring down the lookouts.
When the men were brought on board they told of a strong box being loaded into a schooner and the schooner being damaged as she tried to leave.
‘Where is she now?’ Carter asked.
‘In the bay being repaired,’ he was informed. Carter grinned.
CHAPTER 12
By the Knife Page 15