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 whishing 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.”
CHAPTER 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.
Suddenly we emerged into the cove, and wonder of wonders, a ship lay there at anchor.
It was the Good Catherine!
I stood up and whooped loud, waving my hat vigorously. But although somebody seemed to be watching us through a glass, I doubted they could see much. Spyglasses were found on some ships now, but few were of much value.
Turley shook loose the sail and we made for the Good Catherine. Heavy-laden as we were, we made but slow time and the boat from the pinnace closed in swiftly.
It was Guadalupe who got off the next shot, and it struck matchwood from the gunwale. Turley rested his musket on the tarp-covered cases and fired. His shot also scored. We saw one man drop his oar and rise up, and my ball took another.
The boat swung off and we saw the big man rise up, sword in hand, gesturing at the others. More afraid of him than of us, they set to work, but we had gained a little as we had our sail and they had none.
Suddenly there was a shout from Felipe. He was pointing, for the pinnace had cleared the inlet and was coming straight for us.
“Can you swim?” I asked Guadalupe. “If you can, you and Conchita head for the Good Catherine. Tell the captain you’re friends of mine and he will stand by you.”
She looked at me for a long moment. “And you?”
“We will keep them busy,” I said. “I got these lads into this and I’ll not see them suffer alone.”
By then I’d recharged my musket. Armand and Felipe had taken up theirs. “Take turns,” I advised. “Don’t let them catch us with an empty gun.”
We were still moving, and now there seemed to be action aboard the Good Catherine. Armand fired toward the boat and missed; Felipe did not. His shot was well aimed but the boat was drawing closer. His ball hit the man at the tiller, for he had gotten a good shot. The man leaped to his feet, clawing at his chest, then tumbled into the water. The boat swung wide and lost distance.
The Good Catherine was moving now, moving to cut off the pinnace. Suddenly a gun boomed and we saw a round-shot skip the waves across the bow of the pinnace. The pinnace promptly replied, and the master of the Good Catherine proved himself. He let go a broadside of four well-aimed guns. The first holed the pinnace a point abaft the beam, and just above the waterline. Another shot smashed the bowsprit and brought down the forestay.
What happened to the other two shots I never knew for at that moment their boat came alongside ours. Turley fired into the boat, as I did. Then, grasping my two pistols, I fired again, once with each.
“Tosti!” I yelled. “You’re on the wrong side!”
He leaped to his feet, staring at me, and then the big man lunged from the stern of the boat and I was staring into the eyes of Rafe Leckenbie!
A shout from the pinnace tore his eyes from me. She was bearing down upon us, not answering to her whipstaff, for he who manned it must have been killed.
The Catherine was also coming up fast. Sheathing my blade, I ran forward to throw her a line. The pinnace, running blind, sheared into Leckenbie’s boat and ran it down just as my line was taken by the Catherine.
For a time all was confusion. Leckenbie’s men were swarming aboard the damaged pinnace as his longboat sank. Not sixty feet away Guadalupe and Conchita were being helped aboard the Catherine.
Armand and Felipe came to help me lash lines around the boxes. One after another they were hoisted aboard, and at last I stood on the deck.
Gesturing to the boxes, I said, “Take them below. To my cabin.”
A glance toward the pinnace showed the
apart. The pinnace was damaged, but nothing beyond repair.
>
Leckenbie was aboard there. Rafe Leckenbie, of all people! I stared after his boat with almost a hunger in my heart. Never had I wanted so much to fight a man, to meet him face to face. Had he been the man who led the attack on my father’s house, I could have been no more eager.
Would this be our last meeting? Knowing the man, I knew it would not. He was never one to give up. I knew that from our first meeting he had meant to kill me, and not for an instant had the thought left his mind.
Nor mine….
Was it that I doubted myself? Was it because he had made me feel fear, knowing the closeness of death? There was a savage hunger in me, a hot desire to cross blades with him, to end once and for all what lay between us.
For with him alive, I would never know peace. Always I must be on guard, certain that he would strike at me in the way I could be most hurt. For Leckenbie, to kill was never enough. He enjoyed making other men suffer.
And now I was vulnerable, for now I loved…
Yes…in that moment I admitted it. For the first time I confessed it to myself. For better or worse I loved Guadalupe Romana.
Not the Irish girl of my dreams, but a lass from the high Andes, a girl of another blood, another way of life. She I loved.
And neither of us could ever know safety as long as Rafe Leckenbie lived.
Now was the time….
Captain Dabney was on his poop deck and I went to him. “Pursue them,” I said. “We cannot let them escape. There is a man aboard there, whom I—”
He interrupted. “Captain Chantry, you are now aboard my ship. Yours is most of the cargo aboard, but the vessel is mine. I shall not risk it in needless pursuit of some reprobate you wish to fight.”
He brushed lint from his sleeve. “You were in grave danger, so I came to your help. Now you are safe and I see no reason to risk either the vessel or a single man of my crew in order to follow up a fight that is yours alone.”
“Do you think he will lie quietly by, knowing I am aboard and have what he wants? He will not. He will attack at first chance.”
“Very well, then. If he attacks, we will defend ourselves. But if we can avoid his attack we will do so. I do not command a ship of war, Captain, nor a privateer. I am a simple merchant seaman and I shall do my best to return the investment of those who ventured with me, of whom you are one.”
He turned and looked me up and down. “I would suggest, Captain Chantry, a bath, a change of linen, and a good night’s sleep. In the morning you will think better of your insistence.”
Ashamed, I shrugged. “You may be right, Captain. I am a fool.”
“Not a fool, Captain. No man is a fool who can survive ashore there and come back aboard with a lovely lass and whatever is in those chests. I imagine you have done well.”
He gestured toward the pinnace, limping away toward the inlet. “If you are wise in your judgment of that man, whomever he may be, he will come upon us when he can. Better get some sleep.”
“The man aboard there,” I said, “is Rafe Leckenbie!”
“Ah? The man who was driven from London. So this is what he came to! Well, well! Yes, I think we shall see more of him.”
He bowed. “Captain Chantry, a good night to you.”
A good night? With Rafe Leckenbie alive? Would there ever be a good night until I had faced him again?
CHAPTER 32
SURPRISINGLY, I SLEPT. Not the night through, but for several hours. The bath I had, and the change of linen lay hard by my bunk and ready for use. Yet when I awakened it was not the clash of arms that brought me from a sound sleep, nor a woman’s scream, but the sound of the wind.
Our harbor back of Cape Lookout was a snug one—if any harbor is snug when a hurricane blows. The main force of the wind came, at first, from the southeast and that was the point of our best protection, but even there the land was not high. The waves broke on the outer shore, but the wind swept, almost unimpeded, across the low dunes that made up the point.
The Good Catherine was a snug vessel, her crew well chosen and tautly disciplined, the ship herself well kept and secure. Knowing the sort of man Dabney was, I felt secure despite the wind, and so did we all. I heard it from the crew when we went on deck.
For I could not lie abed with the wind blowing at such strength. Awakening, I dressed to be prepared for any emergency and was about to go on deck when the door to Guadalupe’s cabin opened a crack. “Tatton? Is the storm very bad?”
“It is bad,” I said, “but we’re in as good a place to last it out as there is along this coast, the vessel is a strong one, and her captain an excellent seaman. If there is serious trouble I will come to you.” Suddenly a thought occurred to me. “Will you wait, Guadalupe? I have something for you.”
Hastily I returned to my cabin where all was battened down and secure and took from among the chests the one containing her clothing. It was the largest of all, but not heavy for one of my strength, and I took it to her.
When she saw what I had she drew back the door, remaining behind it, and I placed the chest just inside the room. I showed her hooks upon the wall, low down. “Lash it, or it may break a leg for you. The lines are there.” Stepping out, I went on deck quickly and after a moment heard the door close just as I was leaving the passage.
Sheets of driving rain swept the deck like volleys of grapeshot, and the sky was weirdly lit by continuous flashes of lightning. Grasping the ladder, I went to the poop deck where Dabney stood, his legs spread wide to take the roll of the ship.
He saw me and lifted a hand. When I drew near he shouted above the storm, “She’s holding well. I think we may have no trouble.”
Several men were about the deck, but no more than would be around on any watch. Dabney was sparing of his men as of all else.
Standing beside him, I watched the rain and spray blow through the rigging and sweep the deck and thought of those far out at sea—or worse, those who had been caught sailing off the shore. Many a fine ship would go down this night, or be beached out yonder, and torn apart by the waves. In such a gale as this the safest place, unless one lay as we did, was far at sea. Often I’d heard landlubbers talking of ancient seafarers staying within sight of land, which was absurd, as it was by far the most dangerous place to be, what with rocks, sandbars, shoals, and contrary winds or unexpected capes on an unmapped coast.
During a lull in the roar of the wind I said, “I thought you might need a hand so I came on deck.”
“Kind of you, Captain. But I suggest you go below and have your rest. By the look of you when you came aboard I’d say you need it.”
He glanced at me. “How is the lass making it?”
“Fine enough. She heard me in the passage and asked if all was well. I assured her we had a sound ship and a sounder master. I hope she went back to sleep.”
“Aye.” He seemed pleased at my confidence. “You do the same, Captain. I might add that our trading to date has been profitable, very profitable.”
Below I did not lie down at first, being too much awake. Catching hold of the table, I eased myself onto one of the settees against the bulkhead and took a book from the shelf, where they were held in place by a strip of molding. It had been long since there had been time or opportunity to read and I sorely missed it.
The books upon the shelf were not the same as those it held when last I was aboard. Evidently those had been replaced by a store the captain maintained below decks.
One was called Ta’rikh al-Hind, and the language was strange to me. I was just replacing it when Dabney came in, stripping off the cloak he had been wearing on deck.
I held it up. “What is it?” I asked.
“A book about India,” he said, “written by Al-Biruni, one of the greatest Islamic scholars.”
He draped his cloak over a chair back and dropped to another settee. “My man will have some hot chocolate here at once.” He indicated the book. “We do wrong in the Western world to ignore the scholars of the East for they have much to te
ach us. He was one of the greatest and long resided in India. This book was written about 1030 or so…I am not sure of the date. But very good, very good, indeed.”
“You have been there?”
Dabney glanced up. “I am well past fifty years of age, young man, and nearly twenty of those years were spent in the Indian Ocean…the Arabian Sea, if you will. Men were sailing those seas before ever a Greek prow cut the waters of the Aegean.
“Hippalus, we Europeans say, discovered the monsoon winds that will take a ship across the Indian Ocean from the coast of Africa to India. Alexander found pilots from India who knew all those waters three hundred years earlier. They showed his admiral Nearchus the way to the Persian Gulf.”
A man entered bearing a covered pot. Taking cups from a rack, he filled two of them with steaming chocolate.
“The days are long at sea, Captain Chantry, and when one has an efficient crew there is time on one’s hands.
“I read…I replenish my books often, yet a few I always keep for they are like old friends. Once I read them through; now I dip into them from time to time and read a few pages.
“When I was a lad I went out East on a voyage with my father. Our ship was wrecked there and we remained for many years. First my father and then I myself were masters of ships there.”
We drank our chocolate and talked, the ship rolling with wind and sea. At last he returned to the deck, and I to my bunk.
All night long the wind blew hard and strong, the roar of the winds a mighty sound in the night. Then of a sudden there was no wind and the silence awakened me to a yellow, awesome dawn. There was no sound. Suddenly we were caught in a world empty of it, and my throat caught with fear. Then I realized. We must be in the eye of the storm. If so, the winds would return, but from another direction.
I dressed and started for the deck, but Guadalupe was there before me. “I need the air,” she said. When I started to explain about the hurricane she told me she understood. She had experienced such storms before.
Fair Blows the Wind (Louis L'Amour's Lost Treasures) Page 26