Scarface (14 page)

“We're sailing!” he called. “I can see the shore lights moving.”

But Justin, shipwise, had already felt the tremble of the timbers beneath his heels. Aye, they were sailing. Almost

They were rowed out to the ship. . .

heavily he crossed the cabin to stand behind his companion and watch the lights of Bridgetown fade into the sea.

This ship was not so well dressed as had been the
Naughty Lass.
There was a spare, stripped look about the cabin, as if the master who had quartered here had cared little for luxury. He had no silver plate, no rich hangings, not even a strip of turkey carpet across the boards. It was certainly too bare to be to Cheap's taste.

On the table was a brace of maps and Justin unrolled one—to find himself looking at the indentations of an unfamiliar coastline. Slowly he spelled out the names lettered there. “Cape Cod—Massachusetts, New York—”

That last name he had heard of before; it stood for the town where the Dutch had lost to the English back in the old King's day. Was Cheap planning to run north? There had been some talk of late as how some of the northern governors had turned a blind eye on ships in their harbors —providing the cargoes they discharged were rich and the crews spent gold ashore. They were hot against the French, those northerners, since their lands marched with French territory, and mayhap a pirate who claimed to be a privateer could lie soft and safe there.

“What's that?” Francis had grown tired of his window perch and now came to pluck at the map Justin held, striving to bring it down to his own eye level.

“It is a chart such as sailors use. A sea chart of the northern coastlines.”

“N-e-w—New. Y-o-r-k—York. Where is New York, Justin?”

“Somewhere to the north. It is on the mainland.”

“Are we going there?”

Justin shrugged as he re-rolled the map. “Who knows but Captain Cheap?”

“True enough, Scarface,” Cheap himself answered from the companionway. “So you would like to see New York, Sir Francis?”

“I don't know. Would it be exciting?”

“As exciting as any foreign port. But it is a greater place than Bridgetown and sports a good fashion. With a fine harbor at her skirts and a big country at her back any city may grow great. But at any rate the merchants of that town stand our friends upon occasion. And more than a few of them have a sticky finger in the Red Sea Trade.”

“What is that?”

“Our trade—when carried on across the world in the Grand Mogul's waters. And a rich one it is there, by all accounts. If you snap up a pilgrim ship or one of the Mogul's fleet, you can live soft for the rest of your life. After our business hereabouts is done, we may try it ourselves. Would you like that?”

Sir Francis nodded eagerly but Cheap had done with him for then. The Captain had already turned briskly to Justin with orders.

“For the present I wish to keep you both close to hand. There is a cubby over there which was meant for the captain's store room. That'll serve you for a bed place. And get you to it now both of you!”

There was a note in his voice then that even Francis did not question and they both pushed through into a black pocket which smelled strongly of the late Captain's stores, wine, salt fish, and spoiled biscuit. Inside they tumbled over a tangle of blankets and were left to bed themselves
down as best they might. Francis, not even taking off his shoes, crawled into the dirt-stiffened covers and was asleep almost before he was fully at ease but Justin crouched by the crack left in the panel—the crack which brought them air and also gave him a limited view of the outer cabin.

For a long time Cheap sat there alone, studying the charts, making a series of notes on the papers Justin had picked up from the floor. He was well pleased with himself; that was shown in every movement of his head, in the almost soundless whistle he shaped with his lips, in the way he smiled now and again at his own thoughts. Life was a very pleasant thing that night to Captain Jonathan Cheap.

The brig was running sweetly before the wind now. But Justin had no idea as to where they might be bound— north, south, east, or west. His head began to ache dully and he fought off the sleep which pressed down his eyelids. He didn't dare to move too often and his cramped limbs were numb under him.

It was Quittance who tramped in to arouse both Cheap and Justin.

“We've raised th' Lion. Two lanterns to port, one to starboard!”

“Ha!” breathed Cheap softly. He looked dangerous, like a man who had drawn sword and was advancing to an encounter he had no doubts of winning. “They're prompt —that's well. And the others? Have we raised them yet?”

“They've not had time to make it, Captain. One's no swift sailor with that weight of iron on her. But she'll be with us by sunrise.”

“By sunrise!” Cheap shuffled his papers together in one
pile. “D'you know, Quittance, 'tis hard to believe in, even yet, that I'll have the best of Robert Scarlett—after all these years—”

“Best not speak too much of that, Captain. The Brethren think we're after the pay ship. They don't hold with this vengeance talk—”

Cheap stood straight. “They'll do as I bid, Quittance. I stand Captain here!”

He went out, Quittance following him, and the mate showed a mazed face as if his commander had surprised him again.

Chapter Fourteen

“YOUR WAGES, SCARFACE—”

“
I AM HUNGRY and I would go on deck. This is a dark hole, Scarface.” Francis tugged at his companion's coat. “Let us go out of here—”

“You will discover, and speedily, Francis, that it no longer matters what you want. We are here for Captain Cheap's pleasure and we do not go hence until he wishes it.” Justin rubbed his aching head. To gaze out the stern windows over the sunlit waters hurt his eyes strangely, yet he wanted to know those other ships which followed in their wake. One he had already identified as that of Buck—newly cleansed of bottom she fairly danced along
the course set her. But the sloop which crept a full frigate's length behind was strange to him.

“But why must we stay here?” persisted Francis. “Surely Captain Cheap would not mind if we went above where the wind is and it is not so hot!” He stood with both hands now on the table, steadying himself against the swing of the ship. Without his wig and his brave coat, stripped to shirt and breeches, he had lost some of his pertness and was only a bewildered small boy.

Justin answered him with the truth. “You must pay heed to me, Francis. Captain Cheap is no friend to either of us. He holds you because he can claim ransom for you in the future. Why he wants me I have no idea, but it is not because he means me well. And on this ship Cheap's word is law—even as men must obey what Sir Robert says in Barbados. Should Cheap want us killed, he need only say so. Do you understand?”

For what seemed a long time to Justin the younger boy gave him no answer. If his head was not aching so rarely he might have found better, more forceful words of explanation—but he felt now as if he were talking through a sort of fog.

“Are you afraid of Captain Cheap?”

Again Justin told him the truth. “I am afraid of what he can do. For I have seen him in his ill humors. We must not anger him, Francis—we must not!”

Francis had said that it was hot within the cabin. But it was not—it was chillingly cold—so cold that he must pull his coat tighter about him.

“I wish I were home again!” Francis' full underlip protruded
in a pout and there was a suspicious quaver in his voice. “Please, Justin I wish to go home.”

Justin steadied his head with his hands. Never was there a better time to drive a lesson home, but he found that he had no desire to scold. Instead he managed a crooked smile of encouragement.

“Come now, Francis. If you do as I bid, you will have naught to fear. And do not forget that your uncle and Sir Robert will be doing all in their power to get you back again. It would not amaze me greatly to discover that Captain Cheap is walking into a trap, even as he did before. But keep you quiet and out of his path and we shall manage to come out of this—”

“Aye.” Francis' small face was no longer shadowed. “Sir Robert will find us. And then there will be a great battle, won't there, Justin?”

“A notable one,” he returned absently. “Look you, they are putting off for us in their ships' boats. Doubtless Cheap has raised the conference flag. If they come hither we must get back into the cubby and lie still—”

“Why? It is hot in there and it smells. I do not like it.”

Justin shook his head, trying to clear his eyes of the mist which was clouding them. “Do as I bid, Francis. And remember, should they have you forth to question you concerning Bridgetown, be careful what you say. These men are enemies to Sir Robert and would do him ill if they could. They wish to raid Barbados. And if they learn aught from either of us which can aid them in that—then we are traitors. Do you understand, Francis?”

It was so hard to find the proper words and he had no
way of judging what impression he was making upon the younger boy. But Francis had been in and out of the governor's quarters and had probably listened to many conversations not meant for his hearing. He might repeat information which would be priceless to Cheap now.

“But you are a pirate, Scarface. You chose to come with Captain Cheap. And you had taken the Queen's Pardon too—”

“What I do is not what you should do. If I prove a traitor neither Sir Robert nor your uncle will be surprised, for they know that I have always been a pirate and have only returned to my kind. But you are a gentleman, Francis, and gentlemen do not betray their friends.”

Was he saying this—or were the words only in his fuzzed mind? He could only hope that some of his urgency was getting through to the boy beside him.

“I will remember, truly I shall, Scarface.” A hand no longer white was laid on his knee. “And I can keep a still tongue if I choose. I really can. Let them try to get aught out of me—they'll see!”

He was interrupted by the loud tramp of sea boots. What Justin had foreseen was coming true. Cheap was bringing his fellow captains down to
the cabin for their conference. And the boys had no time to reach the cubby. Cheap came first into the room and caught Francis by the shoulder even as the boy reached the sliding door.

“Ha, Sir Francis. I hear you have an interest in fine cutlery. Well, now is the time for you to see the skill of your shipmates. Take him on deck, Patawamie,” he ordered the Indian standing in the doorway, “and show him your
knife tricks. You'll find it a fine show, I'll warrant! Get you gone quickly now, we have work to do.”

But when Justin got stiffly to his feet to follow, Cheap laughingly pushed him back into his seat on the stern locker.

“Not so, Scarface. Since Sir Robert has found you fit companion, I can do no less than to admit you to my counsels. And I think that you may have in that ugly head of yours much which may aid us now. Sit you there quietly until I have need of you.”

Buck came in, his lean dark face with its ever-watchful eyes making a hard silhouette against the paneling. He was a small man and young, but there was nothing of the adventurer in his sober bearing, nor anything of the fine gentlemen in his brusque ways.

His companion was that Lechmere whom Sir Robert had foreseen pickled by his own potions. And with them was another, whom Justin had not expected to find in such company, a tall black bush of beard with legs and a barrel body to carry its luxuriance—Black Quinby the unlucky. Cheap had indeed gathered a fleet to back his venture! To get three of the Lords to lend their weight to the affair was a master stroke.

As they seated themselves about the table so did they in part reveal their character. Cheap, of course, took the master's chair as by right. Buck was all business, clearing away those papers which lay before his place and putting down in careful order some sheets of his own. Lechmere lurched on to the nearest stool and looked about him vaguely as if in search of something which should stand at
his right hand but was not to be found in this cabin. And Quinby was a little apart from the others, almost as if they wished to withdraw themselves from some invisible shadow which hung about that unlucky master.

“You've made excellent time, gentlemen,” Cheap was pleased to open the meeeting. “Buck, I have to congratulate you upon your ship—she is a sweet sailer.”

“She is adequate,” returned the master. “Newly careened and outfitted. I'll hold her against any sloop-o'-war in these waters!”

“You may have to,” Quinby growled. “This is a chancy venture.”

“All ventures in our way of business are chancy,” Cheap reminded him good-humoredly, “as you should know by now, Captain. But mayhap your luck will change—” The soft voice became a purr and Justin stirred. But Quinby did not flinch at such baiting. He had known too much of it of late.

Lechmere added his own comment. “This be a thirsty business, Captain. Would ye leave us t' die o' dry throats?”

Cheap did not heeed the appeal. “Better to die of dry throats than of fuddled wits, Lechmere. When this is over you shall have the first choice of the governor's cellar, and I am told he keeps a notable one. But until you stand within its walls you will go a-thirsting and serve better for it.”

And to that highhanded decision Lechmere seemed to show no offense. Rather did he pull his thick body upright and try to take on that alertness which he had lost long since. Whatever hold Cheap had over this company, it was a strong one.

“Let us get to the point, Captain Cheap.” That was Buck,
flint meeting tempered steel. “You have summoned us here with a good story of fortunes to come. Now what is this great throw?”

“We have a chance to quench that firebrand Scarlett and make a full purse for each of us into the bargain. It is this way, gentlemen.” Cheap lost his air of languor; he leaned forward, his face alight, his thin hands gesturing as he spoke. “Her Majesty maintains a fleet in these waters and according to custom the men are paid off only when the ships touch home ports. Well enough—but she also has soldiers ashore both here and in the northern colonies and they do not wait for their pay. Now we have it on very good authority that a pay ship is bound this way. She carries not only the West Indies pay chests but also the money for the regiments in the north—in fact she's as rich as a plate ship—and all good English money too—

“She'll reprovision and water at Bridgetown before she goes north. And her escort, her escort, mind you, is not to wait for her. Instead that frigate is to sail on to her station with the fleet. Three other ships which have finished their duty with the fleet and are to sail north and then home to England are to make rendezvous with her in Barbados and accompany her from there. Do you begin to see the simple beauty of our plan?”

Justin didn't think that more than one word in five had wormed into Lechmere's drink-sodden brain and he was none too sure of Quinby's attention. But Buck was slowly taking fire. He was also the first to raise a question.

“How came you by this information, Cheap?”

“I have my informants ashore— more than one of them. And I am well served—very well served. So you see, here
we have the pay ship waiting in peace for the coming of her new escort. And we, gentlemen, we are to be that escort!”

Buck was thoughtful. “It might work,” he admitted. “But how do we serve Sir Robert ill by this play?”

“We needs must get him aboard,” Cheap continued. “One pretext or another will be easy to find. And then we can hold him hostage for the town, should we find ourselves in difficulties for any reason. And when we sail—he sails with us. I, for one, have a long score to settle with Scarlett.”

“You are sure he is in Barbados now and not a-cruising?”

“Aye. That I can give you proof of. Scarface!” He turned to the boy. “What of Sir Robert, is he now in Barbados?”

“He was two nights ago,” Justin answered dully. This time he could see no flaw in Cheap's plans—it all fitted, much too well.

“Who is this?” Buck eyed the boy curiously.

“I spoke of my eyes ashore,” laughed Cheap. “Well, here be one pair of them. He was taken on the
Naughty Lass
and had wit enough to accept the Queen's Pardon and win Sir Robert's interest. So for weeks he has been at the governor's palace itself. Speak up now, you chuckle-headed loon. What guard does our Sir Robert keep about him?”

The question came faintly as if from a far distance, and Justin licked dry lips before he made halting answer.

“He keeps a guard ever about him—even in the hall of his house.” He was lying and doing it clumsily enough but Cheap did not seeem to sense that. Mayhap because that was the state in which the Captain would have lived had
he
been governor.

“And the town—numbskull—what of the town?”

“There is the watch and when needful the soldiers patrol there also. They watch for an attack from the French.”

“As well they might,” commented Cheap. “These islands would be ripe for the plucking should they try. So Sir Robert is a careful man—well, even careful men meet their match now and again. And I think that this is the time when Scarlett will meet his.”

But Buck showed them all a frowning face. What he had just heard was plainly not to his liking at all. And at the sight of that scowl Justin took heart. If he could only be free of that singing within his muddled head he might be able to speak the words which would add to the New England Captain's fears. Only, before he could think out even one sentence, Cheap was answering. He too had seen that frown and guessed what lay in the mind behind it.

“These islanders are a rotted lot; the soldiers die like flies of the heat and fever. I'll warrant you that Scarlett cannot put even a full corporal's guard into the field upon alarm. And there will be no reason for him to suspicion us.”

“This is Shrimpton's brig. Will he not rouse the town when he sees her return?” asked Justin hopefully.

Cheap grinned. “Not so. Master Shrimpton lies under the strong impression that his brig is now in the hands of a master mariner who will bring her safely to port past sleeping pirates.”