“The Bard has been afraid they’ll close or send men ashore if they see anyone trying to board,” Julio said. “However, they cannot see that landing boat, or the path it can row to the ship.” He pointed at a ship’s boat sitting on the sand with the bulk of the Magdalene between it and the blockading sloop. “You can get aboard without them knowing.”
“And then what?” Striker said.
“Well, the Bard is hoping you can get that sloop to clear off first,” Julio said and handed Cudro, Ash, Pete, and Striker their muskets and gear bags.
“Good thinking on his part,” Cudro sighed with relief as he loaded his musket.
Pete grunted as he did the same.
“Let us first work our way around to that side of the cove and get the women aboard,” I suggested. “And Theodore.”
Theodore nodded. “I doubt I will be any use here.”
“I’ll take ’em,” Davey said.
“Aye,” Pete said. “TheRestStay ’EreFerNow. WeBeCloserTa TheSloop ’Ere.”
Though exhausted, Theodore, Yvette, and Hannah shouldered as much as they could carry of the remaining items for the boat and followed Davey into the brush to skirt the cove.
“You must go, too,” Gaston said, and I turned to see Chris squatting nearby.
For a moment, she seemed prepared to argue, and then she abruptly nodded and hurried after the others.
I looked about at our war party. “Where is Ash?”
“I sent him to watch the trail and the passage,” Cudro said.
“Oh, good. Well,” I asked Pete, “Can we burn her?”
He grinned. “ShameWeGot NoGrenadoes.”
“Nay, it’s a shame she’s too small to cross the sea,” Cudro said. He shrugged. “If she wasn’t, I’d say take her. It would save us the trouble of having to sail all the way to the Netherlands first.”
Striker frowned at that and sighed. “Aye, she is small, twenty tons at most.”
“WeCould StillTake’Er,” Pete said.
Gaston and Pete exchanged a look and crawled off through the brush toward the sloop.
Liam was shaking his head and smiling. “Damn fools; iffn’ she were loaded with Spaniards and their militia, aye, but that vessel is surely full of smugglers.”
“Well, all we really need to do is get her to weigh anchor,” Cudro said.
Striker nodded. “Then the Bard can sail out when the wind changes with the sunset.”
“The problem is, he won’t have time to wait to get those harassing the sloop aboard,” Cudro said.
“Davey and I are still staying,” Julio said. “We can do what we can.”
Striker shook his head. “Nay, it’d be best if you two weren’t near here when the soldiers arrive. You can’t run off very fast these days. If you’re still staying, you should be sitting on the porch looking bored when they show up at the house to ask where we went.”
“I agree,” I said.
Julio sighed but nodded. “Then I should collect Davey and leave now.”
“Aye, and truly, Julio, I worry what will happen if you stay,” I said. “I am sorry, but we killed a number of soldiers, and I killed a priest.”
Julio swore and crossed himself. “I must talk to Davey.” He hurried off into the brush.
“I hope they come with us,” Striker said.
I supposed I would always worry about Pomme, but it would be for the best if they did come.
“Listen, those that scare the sloop off could run to another cove and steal a small flyboat and meet up with the Magdalene later,” Cudro said. “All the plantations on the water have some way of sailing to town. The roads are too poor for large wagons.”
“I don’t like us splitting up, but aye, that’s a good idea,” Striker said.
I had heard another thing in Cudro’s voice. I peered at him with curiosity, and he awarded me an oblique smile. I understood. He had meant what he said about not sailing all the way to the Netherlands first. Those of us going to England could part company with the rest now.
“The fewer the better,” I said in French.
Striker regarded me curiously.
I shrugged. “Just muttering.”
Cudro had nodded.
I crept into the brush to find my matelot. I found him and Pete hunkered down at the top of the little spit of land that cupped the western side of the cove. From that vantage we were close enough to fire down upon the sloop’s deck at the twelve soldiers and the eight smugglers. We were also close enough to be fired upon by their cannon as well as their muskets. Despite that, I was sure we could kill or injure enough of the sloop’s men to accomplish our aim of not allowing her to harry the Magdalene when she sailed; but it would require men to stay behind to do it.
“Cudro has made an interesting suggestion,” I whispered. “This sloop could be rendered impotent in blockading the Magdalene if the force of men attacking her were willing to stay behind while the Magdalene sailed—and then find another craft and catch the Magdalene, or sail somewhere and book passage to England.”
Pete smiled gleefully, and then quickly frowned. “DidHeSayThatIn Striker’s’Earing?”
“Nay, he alluded to it and Striker did not catch his meaning.”
I looked to Gaston and found him thoughtful. “It might be best, but we will not be able to say farewell properly.”
“Aye, I regret that, too,” I said. “They will be angry with us, again. Chris will hate us, again; but so be it. The rest will forgive us in time. But, we will know they are safe, and we have all we need.” We had planned for the possibility of separation, and Gaston and I carried all we would need to survive alone—including some gold.
“Striker’sNa’ Comin’WithUs,” Pete said.
“Does he know that?” I asked even though I surely knew the answer.
Pete snorted and began to crawl back from our vantage point.
I wondered how he intended to resolve that matter. Gaston tapped my arm. I turned to look at him and ended up following his pointing arm. There was another ship sailing toward us – a much bigger vessel, possibly the merchantman that had arrived with Chris and the Marquis’ letter. She was not sailing far out into the channel as a ship normally should if heading for the open sea near dusk: she was hugging the coastline.
We hurried to follow Pete.
Ash and Cudro were running up from the trail when we arrived at the others.
“There is another ship!” I said.
“Aye!” Cudro gasped. “We saw her: she’s only sporting her spars to maneuver. She’s not going to sea. She’s coming here. We have less than half an hour and we can’t fight them both. We have to get the Magdalene clear now, and maybe… well, damn, it would be fine to use that sloop as a fire ship against the frigate, but I can’t see how we’ll manage that.”
I sighed. The sloop was in musket range, but not grenadoe range even if we had the spare powder or rum. “Someone will have to swim out to her.”
Pete nodded. “What’Appens IfWeCut ’ErRudder An’ErAnchor?”
Cudro frowned in thought. “The current is westerly through the channel, she’ll pivot and drift – maybe not into the other ship, but enough to make them slow and give the Bard time.”
“All right, the rest of us can fire on them from shore to keep their guns off the swimmers,” Striker said.
Cudro was regarding me expectantly.
“We like your plan,” I said.
“Aye, so let’s do it,” Striker said.
“Na’ThatOne,” Pete said.
Striker turned to him.
Pete smiled with great affection tinged with great regret. “ILuvYa.”
“What?” Striker asked with wonder.
Pete’s blow knocked him off his feet and laid him out in the dirt.
Then Pete turned on Liam. “YouAn’Dickey Take’ImAn GetAboard.” He looked to Cudro. “WhoYaBeSailin’With?”
“You three idiots can’t sail to England,” Cudro said. Beside him, Ash grinned.
I
looked to Liam, who stood there dumbfounded. “We will insure your escape. Then we will steal another craft. We will sail north, I suppose, and from one of the colonies sail to England. We will send word to the Marquis when we can. Go the Netherlands and contact him. If that does not work…”
“We’ll be lookin’ fer ya where we planned,” Liam said. “Damn, Will, there will be some angry people on that ship.”
“I know, I am sorry; but I would rather they be safe and angry people who will live long lives. Please take care of them, and do not let Striker do anything foolish.”
“Aye, you be careful now,” he said and embraced me.
Dickey did the same and whispered, “Godspeed.”
They embraced the others as well and then awkwardly hefted Striker between them and disappeared into the brush.
We were now five and we stood between all we loved and pain and death.
“Well, we are off, then,” I said. “May the Gods smile upon us.”
One Hundred and One
Wherein We Battle for Our Lives
“We’ll try to keep them from shooting at you,” Cudro said as we scurried through the brush to the lee of the hook of land nearest the sloop.
I thought of what I had seen of the sloop and her anchorage. The anchor rope dipped below the shallow swells a good fifty feet from her bow. “You award them entirely too much skill. They will not be able to hit bobbing heads at that distance.”
“You best pray,” Cudro said.
“DoIBlock TheRudder OrIsThereACable?” Pete asked.
We had decided he would attempt the rudder while Gaston and I swam out and around the sloop: to reach the bow rope where it entered the water between the two vessels, just beyond the range of the Magdalene’s muskets. Pete would have less distance to swim, but be awarded more time to accomplish his task; whereas Gaston and I would have much farther to swim, but there would be two of us to hopefully make short work of ours.
“There’ll be a rope to be cut,” Cudro assured him. “The anchor rope’ll be the harder of the two: it’s thicker. And they won’t see anyone at the rudder to be shooting at them,” he added.
Pete chuckled as he shed his breeches and gear.
“You have great faith in their incompetence,” Gaston said as he began to shed his clothes.
I was momentarily startled into doing nothing when I spied how much closer the merchantman had gotten since we first saw her. We did not have long at all. Oddly, my greatest fear was that Liam and Dickey would not be able to board with Striker in time and tell the Bard what we were about so that he could sail when the moment was right.
Gaston touched my arm and I stopped standing there like a startled doe and doffed my weapons and clothes. We handed our muskets and ammunition to Ash and Cudro. They were talking of having Ash reload while Cudro fired the five muskets he would have at his disposal.
I was left with only two knives in the belt wrapped tight about my naked waist. Gaston had the same. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled his mouth to mine for a final kiss of good luck. He returned it with fervor.
The water seemed cold and sinister. The coolness momentarily reinvigorated my tired limbs; however, I knew that would pass as soon as we had to swim beyond the land and face the current that held the vessel taut on her anchor rope. The water would be the enemy then; until we at last reached our destination and the waves became our only cover. They in turn would attempt to drag our aching bodies down while we sawed at a wet cable as thick as my wrist. Pete would indeed have the far easier job: he merely needed to hold himself to the rudder: at the lee of the ship where he would be protected from both the current and eyes above.
Everyone we could see aboard the sloop had their faces pointed toward the Magdalene, with an occasional glance back at the approaching merchantman. They were not looking at the water. That gave me little comfort. They could look down at any time. Thus we wished to conceal our presence as much as possible in case a gaze should stray in our direction. We had to swim beneath the waves and use strokes that did not splash or project our limbs above the surface. This was going to make our journey even harder.
There was simply nothing about the enterprise I could look upon with favor. It minded me of the desperate swimming the crew of the North Wind had once undertaken in order to rescue their friends upon the deck of the Spanish vessel that became Bradley’s Mayflower. In comparing our current mission to that partially-doomed one, I found some consolation: we would not have to board this damn vessel; and as of yet, none of our people had weapons held to their heads.
I held to that as I made my determined way out around the ship in the bright clear waters. I finally stopped to tread water at what I thought to be the farthest from shore we must travel. I was surprised to find myself momentarily alone. The sun was sinking rapidly and the slanting golden rays reflected everywhere off the water. The merchantman loomed so large I was sure her men should have been able to see me if the sun had not been setting. I looked to the sloop and saw the small ripple of Pete approaching her stern. There were men on the deck above him—a mere two-score yards from me—but the ones I could see were still only glancing occasionally to the west and not looking down.
I felt a presence at my side and Gaston’s face broke the surface. We held our position as he too looked about. I found myself looking at him. He appeared as haggard as I felt.
“We are in luck,” he whispered.
“Do tell?”
His smile was grim. “Look, the anchor is on this side.”
I looked. The anchor and rope were somewhat to the vessel’s starboard with us. The current and breeze were pushing the sloop toward the point of land we had come from. The angle had not been obvious from shore. It was indeed a lucky thing, in that the object of the sloop’s attention, the Magdalene, was somewhat to her port. We would not have to mess about with the damn rope directly between the two vessels where the sloop’s crew was staring with such diligence.
I looked back to the sloop and saw an equal amount of un-luck preparing to befall us, though.
“She’s preparing to sail,” I panted.
“Oui,” Gaston said. “The current is pushing her too close to land, and with the sun setting, they must think the Bard will make a run for it soon.”
I swore and began swimming again. A new worry came to me as I fought water that seemed the thickness of heavy porridge and determined to carry me back two lengths for every one I made. If Pete cut the rudder now, they would likely discover it well before we had completed our task. Yet, if he waited too long, they would raise sail and he would be hacking about at the end of a moving vessel and they would discover him quite quickly when their rudder was sluggish. We had not discussed the timing of the venture with him. I supposed I had thought we would accomplish our goals at about the same time. I prayed he possessed—as he always seemed to—a far superior Gods-given grasp of the situation than I had had. Unfortunately, he could not see they were preparing to sail.
It was a matter for the Gods, but I let it distract me from other cares as I strove to reach the unnaturally straight line of the anchor rope in the clear water. I stayed deep, and my lungs were near bursting each time I clawed to the surface and carefully thrust my nose and mouth above the water for a great gasp of precious air.
Then the rope did a peculiar thing: it began to curve and sink. I stopped swimming and watched it with dismay; temporarily at a loss as to any explanation for the damn cable’s behavior. Gaston prodded my ribs and drove me to the surface. I broke the waves and thrashed about treading water, peering about in a frantic attempt to orient myself.
The Magdalene was a golden ship of myth. She was side-on to us with her sails raised and lit by the sinking sun. I saw the wind catch canvas and she heeled and practically leapt forward out of the cove. I could see Theodore in her waist looking at me. He seemed so close I could make out the details of his jacket and see the sun glinting in his eyes; yet, he also seemed a hundred miles away: a denizen of anothe
r time and place.
Gaston was yelling in my ear and I turned to find the sloop bearing down on us—sideways. Her canvas was also raised, and she seemed to be turning to match the Magdalene’s course. The surprised, yelling faces pointing at us seemed very close indeed. And the barrels of muskets being aimed in our direction seemed the mouths of cannon.
I gasped air and willed myself to sink as quickly as possible. Muffled thunder cracked and rolled above me and I saw the oddly slow course of a ball pass by my head. It looked very much like a glass wormhole in wood. I looked for more, and saw the monstrous shadow of the sloop’s deep keel coming for us: not straight on, or even side on, but as a slow wheeling paddle we struggled ahead of in a butter churn.
Gaston’s hands thrust out toward it from beside me. I had sunk backwards, pulling my knees toward my chest and imagining my arse filled with lead that could drag me deeper. I grabbed Gaston about the waist and thrust out with my feet. When the curving wall of wood struck, I felt for a moment that I might stand upon it, there, sideways in the water. Then my knees buckled under the inexorable force and I found myself squatting against it, tantalizingly close to the bow. I straightened my legs again with a desperate power I was sure I could not have mustered under other circumstances and pushed us up and to the right. The swinging prow clipped my shoulder as it passed and we spun farther away.
Thankfully my matelot could still discern up from down, and he pulled us to the surface in a frantic bout of kicking. My shoulder was bruised and numb. We only had a chance to take another deep gasp of air before we perceived muskets being aimed at us again—this time from the other side of the bow as the sloop continued to wheel away from us—and the Magdalene’s course.
I encountered something rough in my spastic attempt to turn and dive: the damn anchor rope. I did not pause to consider the irony that I had gotten my hands on it at last only by dint of the damn vessel moving. Then the blessed golden air above exploded with gunfire again and I found the wherewithal to push myself under the rope and deep. There were several worm trails around me, and I rotated to see them better. Instead I found the sea cloudy to my right. Gaston’s hand was on my belt; pulling me deeper.
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