Supposing that the latter would involve loss of face, Bull insisted on continuing eastward, and this in spite of an additional hazard which Rackham had pointed out as early as the second day of their cruise. This was that the Kingston’s sailing was perceptibly laboured, and that she stood in need of careening. Bull was appalled at the suggestion.
‘Careen, d’ye say? On this coast? I’d as soon careen in Lake Maracaibo.’
Rackham had suggested that the coast thus far was not too dangerous, and that it would be well to have the Kingston beached and scraped before venturing in more perilous waters. But Bull, conceiving that Rackham was intent only on undermining his authority, had flatly refused. The Kingston had been nimble enough to catch the Star, therefore she was well enough for the present, and Bull had no intention of wasting time in careening because of a white-livered quartermaster.
He said so loudly, and received the unexpected support of Kinsman, who privately expressed his confidence in the captain’s judgement. This flattered Bull, and served also to subdue the resentment he had felt at Kinsman’s natural gravitation to the poop during the voyage. Bull had sensed the mastery of the man and grudged it: there were many ways in which he found Kinsman inconvenient, not least in the matter of Anne Bonney. In fact, Bull had come to the conclusion that sooner or later Kinsman must go, and if afterwards Mistress Bonney should stand in need of consolation she would receive it, whether she wanted it or not.
In the meantime he welcomed Kinsman’s support in the matter of careening, and when Rackham made his final appeal on the seventh day of the voyage, Bull, with Kinsman and Anne Bonney behind him on the poop, rejected it with derision. And this although Rackham’s urgings were seconded by one of the most experienced seamen on board, a weather-beaten filibuster named Carty, now acting gunner in place of the absent Kemp. It was Carty who, pointing ahead along the sunlit, rock-bound coast to the distant outline of Cape Lucrecia, made the last plea for reason.
‘That point’s no more’n thirty leagues from the passage. God help us if we have to try to weather it again wi’ our bottom foul as it is an’ a King’s ship behind us. Put about, cap’n, while there’s still time, like Johnny says.’
‘Johnny says!’ Bull exploded. ‘An’ is all that Johnny says gospel?’ He proceeded to demonstrate that it was not, citing for instance Rackham’s warning of the probable danger of King’s vessels. There had been no word at the raided villages of British ships; that was enough for Bull. With threatening emphasis he announced that they would round Cape Lucrecia immediately and seek what plunder they could in Nipe Bay. Against this Rackham was powerless, and he left the poop with Bull’s guffaw in his ears.
They rounded Cape Lucrecia that day and put into a little bay barely a hundred miles from the Windward Passage. Here Bull proposed to lie overnight while a hunting party went ashore to procure fresh meat. To Rackham this was the ultimate folly, since they could take supplies from the next village raided, but he knew that argument with Bull was useless. He said nothing, and a hunting party of some thirty – about a third of the ship’s company – went ashore. They were to remain there throughout the night and the next morning, returning at noon with their game.
All that evening Rackham was in a fret of impatience. He walked the deck, turning every few minutes to scan the eastern horizon, while the short twilight came and went and the velvet Caribbean night fell over the lagoon and the brig riding at anchor. But even the dark, which brought a great peace over the rest of the ship, the sixty men and one woman who drowsed or talked in the starlight, could not allay the fear that was growing in him as the hours limped past. Without consulting Bull he had sent a man to the mast-head – a precaution which Bull had deemed unnecessary – and when it became too dark to see beyond a few yards from the ship’s side Rackham kept glancing aloft through the spider’s web of rigging as though to will his sentinel to vigilance.
A little after midnight he settled down with his back to the rail and fell into a doze from which he was awakened by a hand on his shoulder which brought him to his feet with his tongue tingling. It was his sentry reporting that he had seen a light along the coast to the eastward, but whether at sea or on shore he could not be sure. It had only been a twinkling far off, coming and going so swiftly that it was only by chance he had seen it at all.
Rackham heard him out and sent him back to the mast-head. He had no doubt that what the look-out had seen had been the light of a ship – he had no real justification for thinking this other than his own intuition – and any ship, Spanish or British, was a potential enemy. And the Kingston, quite apart from being badly barnacled, was under-manned and anchored close to shore in as poor a position for defence as possible.
From the stern cabin came the sound of a hoarse voice singing to the accompaniment of pannikins beaten on the table, and as it reached the end of the verse other voices joined it in discordant chorus. Late as it was the captain of the Kingston, finding the night warm and sleep difficult, had assembled his cronies for a carouse. So much the better, thought Rackham; at least he would not be to waken.
He mounted the poop and descended the ladder into the tiny well leading to the cabin. The door was ajar and within Bull was seated with half a dozen of his companions about the table. The great lamp was reeking above them, and bottles and pannikins littered the board, while the cabin itself was filled with wraiths of tobacco smoke.
The laughter died on Bull’s lips as Rackham appeared in the doorway.
‘An’ what the hell d’you want?’ His speech was only partly slurred as yet. ‘Damn me, if tha’s come to bid me careen again Ah’ll keel-haul thee an’ let thee scrape the bloody barnacles off as ye go.’
When the sycophantic laughter which greeted this biting wit had subsided Rackham told him of the light that had been seen to the eastward, and it was noticeable that only Carty gave the least sign of alarm. Bull scowled.
‘An’ what then? He’s seen a light, or thinks he has. D’ye want me to go aloft an’ make sure for him?’
‘You might do worse,’ said Rackham bluntly. ‘If I was you I’d have a boat away now to bring back the hunting party and then stand out of this bay until we see whether or not it’s a ship that’s coming up the coast.’
Bull stared in incredulous anger. ‘Bring ’em back for a bloody light? An’ what o’ the fresh meat they was sent for? Are we to go hungry because thoo’s seen a poxy firefly?’
‘Or a ship.’
‘Ship be damned. Who says it’s a ship?’
‘I say it might be. And while there’s the chance …’
‘Thoo says a hell of a lot more than Ah like to hear,’ shouted Bull. He reared up in sudden rage. ‘This week back ye’ve been whinin’ after me wi’ your coward’s talk o’ King’s ships and barnacled keels an’ the rest of it. Since we left Mosquito Bank, by God! An’ now it’s a light ye’ve seen – or say ye’ve seen. Well, what of it, then? Are we to turn tail for that?’
‘I don’t ask ye to turn tail. I’m telling you that if it is a ship, as I think, we’ll be in no case here to fight, fly, or do aught but swim for it, thanks to you.’
Bull’s jaw dropped in sheer amazement. ‘To me? Thanks to me, d’ye say? Why, ye lousy, cuckoldy maggot, ye …’ He loosed a flood of foul abuse, lunging over the table in his rage.
‘Ye’ve ignored every warning I’ve given you’, Rackham swept on. ‘Ye would cruise this coast, ye wouldn’t careen, and now ye won’t heed danger that a child could see.’
With a roar of fury Bull snatched at the knife in his belt, and Carty sprang to his feet and grabbed the captain’s wrist. For a moment they strove, Bull bawling to be released, and then a precise metallic voice cut through the din and stilled it.
‘And what is this danger, if you please, that a child could see?’
The two men wrestling at the table stopped abruptly. Rackham swung round. Captain Kinsman stood in the doorway, his cold eyes surveying them. Behind him the door of the tiny side berth which Anne Bonn
ey occupied was ajar: he had stepped from it unheard in the confusion.
He repeated his question, looking from Rackham to Bull, who stood knife in hand, glaring like a schoolboy caught in mischief.
It was Rackham who answered. It occurred to him that Kinsman at least was no fool, and if he could be convinced of the danger threatening the Kingston Bull might be forced to look to their safety
Kinsman’s face remained expressionless as he listened. ‘So. A ship, you think?’ His voice rose slightly. ‘A King’s ship, perhaps?’
‘Perhaps.’ Rackham looked at him curiously. ‘Whatever she may be she’s an enemy of ours.’
Kinsman nodded and looked across the table. ‘And what does Captain Bull propose?’
Before that quiet authority Bull found himself answering without conscious intent.
‘Bah, what is it, when all’s said? A light, maybe.’ He shrugged impatiently. ‘Whatever it is can wait till morning.’ He tossed his knife on to the table and feigned a yawn. ‘Them as likes can stay up an’ watch for it,’ he added, with a black look at Rackham.
Kinsman turned back to Rackham. ‘That ends the matter, then.’ He met the quartermaster’s eyes for a second before stepping aside as though to let him pass first through the door. Plainly he intended that there should be no further argument, and Rackham was on the point of protesting, but a moment’s thought convinced him that it was useless. Kinsman was intelligent, and if what he had heard did not convince him nothing else would. Yet there was something odd about his manner, as though he wished to have Rackham out of the cabin and harm’s way. With another curious look Rackham walked past him and went on deck, wondering.
Dawn came in glorious sunlight which revealed the blue expanse of empty sea beyond the headlands of the little bay. In the brightness of the morning, with the rollers gently lapping the narrow stretch of silver beach at the foot of the cliffs, and the seabirds wheeling and crying above the Kingston’s masts, the fears of the night seemed far away, and Rackham was prepared to believe that his alarm had been unfounded. But he still viewed their position with uneasiness, for at the least it would be several hours before the hunting party was back aboard.
A careful commander would have found employment for the Kingston’s crew, but Bull, when approached by several of the pirates who found the glitter of the beach inviting, granted a request that the remaining two boats be taken ashore so that their crews could stretch their legs and search for fruit in the thickets. This accounted for another thirty of the company, leaving thirty aboard the brig, but Rackham reflected bitterly that it would make little odds how many manned the ship if an emergency arose. He watched the boats pull towards shore, the oarsmen singing as they bent to their task, and then, when the boats were beached, playing like children in the shallows.
An hour passed and the sun climbed slowly above the headland. Aboard the Kingston it was easier to sit in the shade than stand at the rail, and easier to drowse in silence than talk to one’s neighbour. Anne Bonney lay in the shadow of her awning, blinking sleepily in the heat like a lizard, watching Kinsman polish the blade of the great rapier which lay across his knees.
In the shade of the forecastle Carty sat with his back to the bulkhead, idly tossing up and catching his clasp-knife, now with his left hand, now with his right. Beside him Malloy chewed placidly on a piece of tobacco leaf, his shirt hanging open exposing his skinny brown chest. He began to whistle softly through his teeth, a reedy, piping sound, and Carty stopped his juggling.
‘Whistlin’ for a wind? I know a better way than that.’ He spat on his knife blade, and with a quick thrust of his forearm sent it spinning away. It glittered through the air and thudded into the mast.
Malloy shook his head. ‘Knowed that trick afore you was born. Never brought a wind yet. I seen it tried a hundred times.’ He got to his feet with an effort and shuffled across the deck. ‘I mind it aboard the old Duke, when I sailed with Avery. Precious luck it brought him.’ He grasped the knife and jerked it out of the wood, and as he did so he happened to glance towards the entrance to the bay. His jaw dropped open in amazement, and for a second he stood speechless, pointing with the knife out to sea.
‘Holy Mary!’ he yelled. ‘A ship! A King’s ship!’
Round the eastern headland, her red hull gleaming beneath a mountain of snowy canvas, a great ship came gliding into view, and before the astonished and horrified eyes of those on the Kingston, veered steadily in towards the bay. The shrill of a bosun’s pipe came across the water as her huge foresail snapped and filled, and the tiny figures of men scrambled into her rigging to shorten sail. The vessel seemed to hesitate for a brief moment, then she came round and was standing in towards them over the blue water of the lagoon.
A great cry of panic and dismay rose from the Kingston’s decks. One moment the brig had been drowsing peacefully in the calm, the next she was a madhouse of blindly scattering men, thrusting and tumbling over each other as though by flying below decks they could escape the nemesis advancing across the bay.
Within seconds the cry was being taken up ashore where many of the pirates were already taking to the woods. Some, bolder or more intelligent than their companions, tried to run out one of the boats to reach the Kingston, but they were careless in their haste and the boat foundered in the surf only a few yards from the beach.
From the poop of the Kingston Bull stared incredulously at the man-of-war with the red, white and blue fluttering at her main-truck. It seemed to him impossible that such a thing could be, and it was several seconds before complete realisation came home to him. He glared wildly round as Rackham came bounding up the poop ladder to his side.
‘It’s the King’s colours!’ he roared. ‘We’s took – trapped!’ He loosed a volley of curses and shook his fist at the oncoming ship. Rackham cut him abruptly short. ‘Ye can save your breath for the gibbet where you’ll need it shortly,’ he snapped, and then he delivered the stinging reproach that was boiling up in him.
‘No King’s ships, eh? A safe coast and a jolly cruise and a bellyful of rum and dollars? No danger at all. “Them that like can stay and watch for it,” you said. Well, by God, you’re watching now!’
Bull was too distracted for resentment. There was something very near to terror in his eyes as he turned in desperation to Rackham. ‘What’s to be done?’ he croaked, and Rackham answered him with a savage laugh.
‘You ask me what’s to be done? You dare? Am I the captain? No, no, Davie, not I. Ye’ve peacocked it on this ship long enough, my lad, and thrust your fool head in a noose in spite of all my warnings. Pull it out as best ye can.’
‘Blast you!’ shouted Bull. ‘It’s your neck as well as mine! God’s teeth, we’ll be under her guns while you stand mocking!’ He cast another frenzied look towards the man-of-war and his tone changed abruptly. It became almost pleading.
‘Calico, man, you’re a sailing-master; could we not slip by, mebbe? Look, man, she’s none so nimble herself, wi’ all that weight! We might be away before she’s gone about!’ He seized the quartermaster’s arm, but Rackham shook him off and pointed to the advancing ship.
‘There’s two decks of guns there to say why you can’t slip past her,’ he said. ‘Even if you could she’d overhaul us inside a couple of miles with our keel foul as it is.’
‘Hell! We can’t wait here doin’ nowt!’ shouted Bull. ‘Carty! Cut yon bloody cable afore she runs us down. Malloy!’ He lurched to the rail and stilled the panic of the crew by sheer lung-power. ‘Get ’em into the shrouds! Tacks an’ braces! Bustle damn you, or we’re done!’
His face was terrible to see as he turned on Rackham. ‘We’ll clear this bay or feel its bottom before this hour’s out!’
Rackham judged the distance between the Kingston and the great red vessel creeping over the water under shortened sail. There might just be time to get the Kingston under way before they found themselves at the mercy of the warship’s guns, but even so those guns must surely blow them out of the wate
r before they could hope to slip past towards the open sea. Still, there was a chance – a tiny, ridiculously slender chance – that the Kingston would escape without injury from the other’s broadside and at the same time deal her a crippling blow. A lucky shot to a magazine or the rudder chains – little ships had beaten big ones before now.
Bull strode up and down, roaring like a madman, while the crew of the Kingston worked with the energy of despair. With the gentle land breeze in her favour she was turned in a matter of minutes from a floating, near inanimate hulk into a living ship; a laboured, unhandy ship, but able to give battle even so.
As she came round a faint wail came over the water from the pirates abandoned ashore. To them, with the cliffs at their backs, and beyond that a hostile land, the deck of the Kingston was preferable, even though it must soon be swept with shot and running with blood.
Smoke sprouted from a bow gun aboard the King’s ship, followed almost instantly by the thud of the report, and a round-shot sent a spout of water flying up a hundred yards beyond the Kingston’s bows – the signal to heave to. Bull yelled a curse and shook his fist.
‘Burn your powder, you bastards!’ he shouted. ‘We’ll drown afore we swing!’ Brave at the best of times, he was exhibiting now the courage of the trapped animal, and some of it spread to his crew. There was a ragged cheer as the Kingston glided slowly forward, her sails filling, Rackham holding her head for the centre of the entrance to the bay.
The distance between the two ships began to close rapidly. Down in the waist Carty was frantically mustering his gun crews: if he was lucky he might be able to get in three shots, Rackham calculated. Three shots to balance the ponderous weight of metal that would sweep the Kingston’s decks, tearing her hull and shattering her upper works, turning her from a ship into a riddled, drifting mass of timber with the dead strewn on her deck.
‘Stand by!’ It was Bull bawling beside him, and Rackham and the pirate who was with him at the wheel braced themselves. There was an explosion from the bows of the King’s ship and a shot rushed overhead and ripped through the mainsail. Another followed, and there was a jarring crash of splintering timbers and a scream from the waist.
Captain in Calico Page 18