Captain in Calico (14 page)

‘Wait.' Rackham frowned in concentration. He had not expected to sight the
Star
for several hours at least, but it was possible he had overestimated his quarry's capabilities. ‘It's only a sail, after all. There's more than one in the Carribean.'

‘But on this course?'

‘Who said aught of the course? It's a ship, but we don't know where it's sailing.' He pushed past the Major. ‘The sure way is to go and see for myself. By your leave, mistress.'

Anne Bonney had moved forward as though to detain him, but he stepped aside. This unexpected turn had been sufficient to cool his temper, but not to quench his resentment. Nor was he impressed by her sudden change from icy rage to an attitude which, to judge from her expression, was designed to be conciliatory. He was beginning to distrust these changes.

He ran up the companion, and ignoring the noisy rabble crowded at the rail, swung himself into the mainmast shrouds. They fell silent as he began the hazardous ascent; for all his bulk he went up as nimbly as a monkey until he reached the main-top where he wriggled on to the narrow grating beside the look-out, breathless with the exertion of his climb.

Far below the
Kingston
was like a slim knife-blade, her decks white against the turquoise water around her. The wind sang in his ears, and as the vessel rolled the deck vanished from directly beneath him and he was hanging over the heaving trough of the sea fifty feet below. Slowly, like a great pendulum, the mast came up again with a thousand shrieks and groans from cord and timber as the vessel paused for a moment on even keel and rolled again.

‘Where away?' he shouted. The look-out pointed almost dead ahead, and Rackham followed the line of the outstretched arm. The sun was setting, and its rays had turned the southwestern sky the colour of flame. Straining his eyes he made out a tiny smudge disturbing the perfection of the curve where dark blue and amber met on the horizon; a smudge, nothing more to the naked eye, but certainly a ship if that eye were a seaman's.

Through the look-out's glass the smudge leaped into clarity – two masts almost in line, with canvas spread. A prolonged observation told him what he wanted to know – the ship was sailing with the
Kingston
and apparently on the same course.
It might be the
Star
– so much he admitted to the demand of the eager crowd who surrounded him when he regained the deck, and his words were greeted with a roar of acclamation which alarmed him because it was a measure of what the reaction would be if he was wrong.

‘Ye can hope and pray it is the
Star
,' he told Penner when they had regained the privacy of the cabin away from the exultant tumult of the deck. ‘If it's not, God help us. Listen to them! They'll be yelling for our blood – my blood – if that sail turns out to be some bum-boat making for Caicos Bank, as it well may be.'

‘Dear lad,' the Major was effusive, ‘it has to be the
Star.
It must be. Aren't ye convinced yourself, now? And by my soul it's a credit to your captaincy, to your navigation. It's nothing short of a miracle, so it is.'

‘Bah!' said Rackham. ‘It's luck and nothing else – if it is the
Star
.'

‘The crew won't call it luck,' said Penner complacently, eyeing his glass against the light. ‘And if they do, what then? It's all a pirate skipper needs. Luck, my lad,' and he drained off his wine.

‘Luck,' said Rackham absently. He raised his glass but set it down again untasted. ‘Where is she?'

The Major hesitated. ‘In her cabin. And if you take my advice you'll let her stop there. Quarrels aren't breeches – they don't have to be patched. You'll do more good by letting well alone, and by morning it'll all be forgotten. Besides,' – his face broke into a jovial smile again – ‘there's the
Star
to be thought of, and half a million tinkling, lovely dollars that we'll be wading ankle-deep in this day night.' He laughed for delight and applied himself again to the bottle. ‘The wealth of the Indies! Silver from the mines of Peru, gold from the deserts of Mexico, pearls from the Rio Hacha big
as your fist, dollars and crowns and pieces of eight from God knows where! And what does it matter? We know where they're going!' He chuckled and shook his head. ‘And to think – to think if I hadn't clapped eyes on you that morning at the Fort it might never have happened.'

‘It hasn't happened yet,' Rackham reminded him. He found the Major's optimism annoying, but the other waved him aside with airy assurance.

‘Have we come this far to be bilked by fortune? I tell you I feel it in my bones, and my instinct was never wrong yet.'

But in spite of this carefree confidence in his partner Rackham was too well aware of the difficulties yet remaining to be able to abandon himself to an anticipatory carouse. He sat while the Major babbled on about the treasure they were to reap on the morrow and proposed numerous toasts which he honoured himself, but as the light began to fade Rackham's nervous irritation increased and at last he rose and went on deck, leaving Penner to drink himself to sleep.

In the quickly gathering dark the
Kingston
must follow as best she could the quarry they had sighted; they must hold the course that they believed she would take during the night. Rackham issued his orders, and in renewing contact with these practical if trivial details which were no more than formalities to the experienced steersmen, shed a little of his anxiety. There was an air of excitement about the
Kingston
's decks which could not help but communicate itself to him; they were active and eager for the chase and the capture, and it seemed that the first reckless enthusiasm had been replaced by a steady purpose which heartened him more than all Penner's flights of fancy could have done.

It was dark when he went below. Penner was snoring gently in the main cabin, and Rackham stood hesitant for a moment
at the foot of the ladder. To his right was the cabin where he had spent last night with Anne; she would be asleep in it herself by now. The other was the one he had occupied in the old days; it would be empty.

He turned to it and opened the door, closing it again behind him in the darkness. He took the two steps he knew were necessary to reach the bunk, and the hairs on the nape of his neck rose as something moved in the blackness before him. He stopped, tense and ready, but before he could move or strike a hand touched his own and held it. Fingers caressed it lightly, and then drew him downwards. He felt for the arm in the darkness, and followed it to a smooth, naked shoulder. He could hear her breathing, swift and urgent, and then the other hand was touching his face and he was drawn to her without resistance.

Captain Bankier of the
Star
watched through his glass the brig that had been following in his wake and steadily drawing closer since dawn, and asked himself for the twentieth time what the devil she could be about. That his pursuer was the
Kingston
he knew, and since she had been snug at anchor in Providence two days ago he could not doubt that her presence was legitimate, but he knew also that she had been due to careen, and that only an emergency could have brought her out after the
Star
.

He was reassuring himself that it would be best to continue on his course until signalled to do otherwise, when a thin jet of smoke shot out from the
Kingston
's side, followed by the dull thump of an explosion. The signal to heave-to was unmistakable; the question was whether to obey or not. Common sense told Bankier that the
Kingston
had been dispatched after him on some lawful errand; no other logical explanation offered. In which case his duty was clear.

He snapped his glass shut and addressed an order to his first lieutenant, and a few minutes later Rackham, on the
Kingston
's poop, saw the
Star
behaving precisely as he had calculated she must, swinging round to heave to.

He drew a deep breath. For the next hour a hundred pairs of eyes would be watching them from the
Star
's decks; for an hour there must be no sign that the
Kingston
was anything but what she pretended to be. The least slip to arouse suspicion and the
Star
would be away like a bird, her well-greased keel covering four miles to the
Kingston
's three. Surprise was their only hope.

Himself he relieved the steersman, and the
Kingston
ploughed on before the light breeze over a brilliant cobalt sea. Slowly she narrowed the distance as the long minutes passed, and the tension mounted among the silent men in the waist and those aft. Penner, his crimson coat providing the only patch of colour on the poop, paced up and down behind Rackham, pausing every now and then to gaze ahead at the
Star
before resuming his interminable walk. Once he stopped and said, ‘D'ye suppose …?' and left the question unfinished. His nerves were beginning to wear at the silent waiting broken only by the creak and moan of timber and cordage as they ran swiftly down towards their quarry.

Rackham called an order to Kemp, his voice sounding deep in that strange silence which was yet so full of noise. The red-haired gunner jerked upright from his seat on the ladder and padded gently to the rail, as though he were afraid the
Star
might hear his footsteps. For a moment he studied the
Star
and the swell of the sea, and then turned to summon his crews, without haste, to their guns.

Suddenly the
Star
seemed much closer; the men on her decks were recognisable as such and not as doll-figures. There was the little group on the poop; Rackham could see the coloured coats and the scarlet of the marine sentry. Soon
they would be within hailing distance, and Penner would be called on to play the second act of the drama.

‘In good voice, Ned?' asked Rackham softly, his eyes on the ship ahead, and the Major started.

‘What's that?'

‘Be ready. We'll hail them in a moment.'

The Major sighed nervously. ‘Aye.' He moved over to the port rail and stood waiting, his hands clasped behind him.

Rackham put his weight on the wheel and the seaman beside him copied the action. Ben, in the waist, bawled an order that sent the hands to the braces and the
Kingston
swung over almost imperceptibly. Rackham judged the distance to the
Star
: three cables' lengths, and as they shortened sail he spoke.

‘Now, Ned.'

Penner stooped and grasped the speaking trumpet at his feet, and his hail rang across the water.

‘
Star
ahoy!'

A figure detached itself from the knot on the
Star
's poop and an answering hail demanded their business. Penner roared out his answer.

‘Major Penner, of the brig
Kingston.
We have dispatches from Governor Rogers for Jamaica. Urgent dispatches. A sloop brought news that Spanish ships are on their way from the Florida Channel.'

Rackham could guess the sensation this would cause aboard the
Star
. If only the fool who commanded her wasted no time with stupid questions. They were too near as it was; every minute was precious if Kemp was to be given the chance he needed – he was fidgeting among his guns, snapping his fingers with excitement, casting appealing glances towards Rackham, and inaudibly cursing the delay.

The reply to come aboard came from the
Star
with tantalising deliberation, and Penner turned away from the rail, his face bathed in perspiration.

‘Ready, Andy!' shouted Rackham, and Kemp waved in reply.

He barked an order, and the caps were whipped off the tubs containing the slow-matches. Beside each tub crouched a man, fanning vigorously to disperse the tiny drifts of smoke which might otherwise be seen from the
Star
's look-out.

Rackham fixed his eyes on a point on the
Star
's poop – a lantern that gleamed brassily in the sunlight. They were off her starboard quarter now, little more than a cable's length away, and in bringing the Kingston down level with the other brig his judgement must be faultless. Two minutes and they would be broadside on, and Kemp's guns would provide the answer to the question every man on board must be asking.

The lamp was moving nearer. In one minute the
Kingston
's bow-sprit would be level with the
Star
's after-rail, and still there was no sign that she had been discovered for what she was. Men were lining the
Star
's side, watching as the
Kingston
crept up on their quarter. Rackham could see their faces plainly now; there was one man standing on the rail, a great bronzed fellow with a shock of yellow hair. He held with one hand to the shrouds and waved the other in greeting. Ben, on the poop ladder, waved in reply.

The scream of blocks overhead drew Rackham's attention back to the
Kingston
as she trembled violently and the wheel kicked beneath his hands. Her head fell away a little; he brought her up, and they were gliding in level with the
Star
with a bare hundred yards of open water between them. There she lay, on a smooth sea, her side as broad as the proverbial barn door, as perfect a target as any gunner could
have wished; if Kemp bungled he could not blame his quartermaster.

‘Ports!' yelled Kemp, and the crash as the wooden flaps were flung back was followed immediately by the shrieking and rumbling of the guns as the crews ran them forward. The
Kingston
's mask was off; the men of the
Star
, so indifferent a moment ago, were looking death in the face as they stared at the unwinking muzzles that had suddenly sprouted from the
Kingston
's side.

There was a yell of alarm and a frantic order bellowed from the
Star
's poop. Something was being shouted through a speaking trumpet, but Rackham never heard it. Kemp was kneeling by the nearest gun, his handspike going furiously while the match spluttered openly now in the hand of his mate.

‘Quickly! Christ! Quickly!' Penner plucked off his hat and dashed it on the deck in an anguish of excitement. They were dead level, bow to bow and stern to stern, and Kemp leaped back from his gun. He shouted his order in a cracked voice, there was an instant of silence, and then the
Kingston
seemed to explode beneath their feet.

The ship leaped and rocked beneath the shock of the broadside and Rackham staggered at the wheel. Through the clouds of acrid smoke that swirled back from the guns, filling the waist and rolling up to the poop, he heard the ponderous thunder as the carriages were run back. Kemp was yelling like a madman as the crews ran to swab out their barrels and ram home fresh charges; above the babble of sounds Ben was roaring orders to the topmen and hands at the braces.

Rackham looked through the thinning smoke to the
Star
. That one broadside had taken terrible effect. The brig's bulwarks looked as though they had been swept by some
huge flail; at one point a great yellow splinter trailed down into the water, carrying a tangle of canvas and rope with it, part of the poop rail had been carried away, and there was one gaping hole near the waterline.

Two voices, one calling orders and the other shrieking, carried across the water. He could see men ascending the rigging, like insects creeping on a web, and on the poop a hatless figure was shaking his fist at them.

‘Stand by to go about!' Ben's voice cut through the hoarse cheer from the
Kingston
's deck as she drew away from the other ship. Men were pointing and shouting; Kemp, the lower half of his face a black mask of powder, was wrestling with the second gun as it was run forward.

They went about in a great arc that left a creamy horseshoe on the blue water and ran down on the
Star
's port side. She had her guns out now, but Rackham guessed the upheaval there must be on her decks and was not anxious. It was one thing to take a broadside in battle and fire one in return; it was quite another to be surprised and have to drive to the guns men shocked and dazed by the impact.

‘Fire as your guns bear!' yelled Kemp, and as the
Kingston
cruised past she poured shot after shot into the King's brig, raking her mercilessly at the main-deck level. The
Star
seemed to stagger in the water beneath that hammering; one of her forward guns went off and a ball screamed over the
Kingston
's stern, while another shot ricochetted off the water and struck the pirates' side with a resounding crash.

Rackham whistled another man to the wheel and dropped down the ladder to the waist where Penner was marshalling his men. One quick survey of the havoc wrought by the second broadside was enough. There was no useful purpose to be served by punishing the
Star
further; it would only
mean useless slaughter and would render her a floating wreck. As they bore down for the third time the running out of Kemp's guns was a precaution only; what was still to do would be done by the three lines of boarders drawn up to the
Kingston
's rail and stretching the length of the waist.

As they bore down on the
Star
's quarter Penner waved his hand and a cheer burst from the triple ranks. It was answered by a feeble chorus from the
Star
, and then a series of little grey plumes of smoke broke out like flowers from the side of the King's ship, and musket-balls whizzed over the
Kingston.
One pirate gave a cry of pain and collapsed on the deck, and then from the shrouds above came the answering rattle of musketry as Penner's sharpshooters fired down into the
Star.

‘Stand by to board!' bawled Penner. Only a few yards separated the ships now; the crackle of firing mounted as the
Kingston
swung in, and a pin in the rail at Rackham's side was smashed to splinters by a stray ball. He grasped a line to steady himself against the coming shock as the grappling irons sailed over the water on to the
Star
's deck. Through the musketry smoke he could see the scarlet file of marines and an officer with drawn sword at their head, while about them milled the
Star
's seamen.

The vessels met with a jar and groan of timber that sent a shudder through the
Kingston
's length, fell away slightly and then ground together as the men hauled on the grapples. Penner pulled himself on to the rail and leaped for the rigging across the gulf between the ships, and the first rank of boarders followed on his heels. The volley of the marines crashed out, and then Rackham found himself in a mob of tearing, striking, cursing men on the
Star
's deck.

Directly in front of him a seaman was levelling a pistol, but in the same moment a boarding-pike thrust by a pirate
took him in the chest and he fell back into the press. Penner was plunging forward ahead of them with a seaman dragging at his legs, and just beyond him the marine officer was calmly issuing orders, sword in hand, with one eye on his file and the other on the battle raging almost at his elbow, as cool as though on a barrack square.

Rackham turned, cutting at a sailor who was rushing at him. He missed his stroke but recovered, and with one hand protecting his face and the other swinging his broadsword, drove his way through to the open space at the foot of the poop ladder. From within a yard of where he stood to the other end of the waist the deck was a madhouse of struggling, stabbing men, but even as he watched the third wave of boarders swept over from the
Kingston
and their impetus carried the fight forward, leaving the after part of the deck clear of all but half a dozen who had fallen. Above him, on the poop, he could hear the clamour of fighting, and as he set his foot on the ladder an officer in a blue coat came hurtling down and landed almost at his feet.

Before he could rise Rackham was on top of him, one hand on his throat, pinning him down. A glance at the newcomer's dress, also the fact that he had been on the poop, made Rackham suspect that here was the
Star
's commander. He shortened his sword and brought the blade up in front of his captive's face.

‘Strike!' he shouted. ‘Bid them strike!'

The officer glared and tore at the fingers on his windpipe, Rackham slipped sideways, and then they were under the feet of men racing for the ladder. Rackham fetched up in the scuppers, scrambling to his feet, and as he did so he heard a voice above the din, shouting.

‘Quarter!'

Another took up the cry, and as he regained his balance it became a chorus from the forward part of the ship.

He looked about him. The officer was being hauled to his feet by two pirates while a third threatened him with a dirk. Dazed and helpless, the officer turned an agonised face towards the fore part of the waist and groaned at what he saw. Ringed against the rail by the body of pirates the seamen of the
Star
were throwing down their arms, and in the bows a similar scene was being enacted.