Sea Robber (4 page)

So too did the
Carlsborg
’s first mate. He turned on his heel and bolted for his cabin, his nightshirt flying out behind him. A moment later he reappeared, a pistol in one hand and a bunch of keys in the other. He screamed at the Danish sailors to look out for their lives as he darted past them towards the arms chest placed beside the helm. It was there in case an uprising by the slave cargo had to be suppressed with weapons. Inside were loaded muskets and a pair of the newfangled blunderbusses.

The officer unlocked and flung back the lid, and began frenziedly pulling out the guns. He thrust them into the hands of his Danish compatriots. Then, looking around in desperation, he saw Hector and his two friends still standing by the cockboat. Gathering up three more guns, he darted across the deck and pushed the weapons into their grasp. ‘Skyde. Skyde,’ he commanded breathlessly and pointed towards the oncoming ship. ‘Shoot. Shoot.’

From his vantage point at the
Carlsborg
’s rail, Hector looked down and saw armed sailors crouched on the
Revenge
’s foredeck. They were waiting to leap on to the larger vessel. Flat explosions of musket shots told him the Danes had opened fire, but he couldn’t see where their bullets struck. He felt the weight of the musket in his hands, thumbed back the lock and brought the weapon up to his shoulder as if to use it. But he already knew he wouldn’t pull the trigger while Jacques was held hostage. Instead he swung the muzzle of the gun menacingly, pretending to seek a target, and found himself staring over the gun’s sight at Cook. The buccaneer captain had moved forward to stand next to Jacques. Cook glanced up and must have seen Hector, for the buccaneer gave a sly smile and raised a finger to his forehead in a sarcastic salute.

The
Revenge
’s bowsprit was now so near that it was about to spear through the
Carlsborg
’s stern windows. At the last moment the buccaneer helmsman gave a deft touch, which laid his vessel alongside the stern quarter of the bigger ship with a grinding crash. A pair of light grappling hooks flew through the air and caught on the
Carlsborg
’s side rail. A moment later Cook’s men swarmed up.

There was the bang of a musket, then another. The Danish sailors had reloaded and were shooting downwards. Hector saw one of the buccaneers slip and fall back, tangling with one of his comrades. The two men tumbled back on to the
Revenge
’s foredeck. But the assault did not waver. Several musket balls whizzed past Hector’s head, fired from below by the boarders, but he ignored them. Deliberately he lowered his weapon. He was aware that neither Jezreel nor Dan had fired, either. The three of them had left the defence of the
Carlsborg
entirely to the Danes.

On the poop deck the first mate was cursing, a steady stream of oaths. He had discharged his pistol and was scrabbling in the arms chest, trying to find a blunderbuss. A few paces away the two Danish sailors had dropped their guns and stood helplessly, looking on. Beside the helm Iversen clutched his side, blood oozing through his fingers.

The first mate found his weapon and turned, ready to use it, when a shot rang out. He grunted abruptly and a bright crimson stain appeared on the front of his nightshirt. For a moment he stood there, bewildered, took a half-step backwards until he came up against the open lid of the arms chest. As he toppled over, the lid slammed shut beneath him and his body lay across it for a moment, before sliding to the deck, dead.

There was a sudden, still silence and the overpowering acrid smell of gunpowder. Hector hadn’t seen who had fired the fatal shot, but already the first wave of the
Revenge
’s boarding party – half a dozen men – were taking control of the poop deck. They relieved the two Danish sailors of their muskets and ordered them forward. A buccaneer put his arm around the shoulders of the wounded petty officer and helped him down to the main deck. The first mate’s body was pushed to one side, and a man whom Hector took to be the
Revenge
’s sailing master stepped up to the helm and began tentatively working it from side to side, trying it out.

At least two dozen more men from the
Revenge
were clambering up to the deck of the slaver. In their sea-stained smocks and wide breeches and broad-brimmed hats, they could have passed for the crew of any honest vessel. There was nothing to mark them out as sea bandits. Hector looked into their faces closely, trying to identify anyone among them who had sailed with him in the South Sea. He thought he recognized one or two, but it was impossible to be sure, for they pushed past him without a word. Unlike the chaotic departure of the
Revenge
, which had been a sham to lull their Danish victims, Cook’s men went about their business briskly and with barely a command spoken. Some took up position by the companionways and hatches, and as the sleepy crew of the Danish slave ship appeared, they faced the muzzles of their captors’ guns and quietly surrendered. A larger group of the buccaneers dispersed about the ship, checking sheets and braces, looking up at the spars, climbing into the rigging, searching out capstan bars, and then stood ready, waiting for orders.

By Hector’s estimate only half an hour had passed from the time Dan had heard the first sounds from the
Revenge
as she began to get under way. In that interval Cook’s men had captured a ship almost half as big again as their own and with three times as many cannon, and had done so without loss to themselves. They were complete masters of the
Carlsborg
.

Finally Cook himself came aboard with Jacques. The Frenchman looked crestfallen. ‘There wasn’t much I could do,’ he muttered to Hector. ‘I was hustled under hatches the moment I came aboard the
Revenge
last night. Shut up all night in the cable locker, where I couldn’t be heard.’

Cook called down to the men still on the
Revenge
. They were to cast off and resume course. The buccaneer captain turned and glanced at the musket Hector still held, cocked but never fired. ‘That was sensible of you. I didn’t imagine you could bring yourself to shoot at your old comrades.’

‘Where are you taking this ship?’ Hector asked. He had an uncomfortable feeling that Cook’s plan was more devious than first appeared.

‘As I told you yesterday,’ said Cook casually, ‘we head for the South Sea by way of Magellan’s Strait. But aboard this fine vessel rather than our worn-out tub.’

‘And the
Carlsborg
’s crew? What are you going to do with them?’

‘We’ll turn them loose in the
Revenge
’s longboat as soon as we are safely clear.’

‘I trust you’ll allow me and my friends to go with them.’

Cook treated Hector to an oily smile. ‘If that’s what you want. But it’s not what I would advise. If I were a Dane who had witnessed the capture of my ship, I would think maybe you and your friends had a hand in it.’

‘Hector, we’ll not be welcome back at the fort,’ cut in Jezreel. ‘We did nothing to fight off the attack.’

‘I couldn’t have expressed it better myself,’ observed Cook sardonically. He smoothed the lapels of his immaculate green coat before adjusting the lace at his throat.

Hector made one last attempt to regain the initiative. ‘I’d prefer if you gave us the cockboat so that we can head off on our own. Try to reach one of the English forts.’

Cook seemed amused. ‘Maybe you would make it, maybe not. I wouldn’t fancy falling into the hands of someone like that Akwamu chief we saw yesterday. You could be treated very nastily.’

Hector was conscious his three friends were looking at him, waiting for his lead.

‘Do we have another choice?’ he asked.

‘The offer I made yesterday still stands. I’ll recommend to my crew that all four of you join our company. They must vote on it, as you know. That’s the custom. But I’m sure they’ll vote in favour.’

‘My friends and I have had our fill of buccaneering,’ said Hector stubbornly.

‘Then, in view of our long-standing acquaintance and how helpful you’ve been in the capture of this fine ship, I’ll inform the crew that I’m willing to take you on, even if you haven’t signed articles. That way you’ll be free to leave the ship whenever you wish.’

Yet again Hector sensed that Cook was being dangerously subtle. ‘What would be our duties on board?’ he enquired cautiously.

‘Work the ship, stand watches, that sort of thing. Also I need a navigator who has already been around the Cape.’

‘But you’re heading through Magellan’s Strait.’

‘True. But I’m a cautious man, and if we have problems there, we’ll need to have an alternative route. When you left the South Sea last time, you came around the Cape, so I believe.’

Hector hesitated, still unwilling to commit himself when Jezreel intervened again. ‘Hector, I think we should accept Cook’s offer. At least until something better comes along.’

‘I don’t fancy taking my chances among the black men,’ agreed Jacques.

Hector looked across at Dan. He was always level-headed. Dan gave a rueful smile. ‘I’m with Jezreel and Jacques. We go to the South Sea aboard this ship. Besides, Hector, it will bring you closer to Maria, and we’d be happy to see that.’

Hector felt a surge of gratitude. He hadn’t realized his friends were aware of his longing to find Maria again. He’d no idea that his desire was so obvious.

‘All ready,’ called the sailing master from the poop deck.

‘So is it settled between us?’ asked Cook. There was a glint of triumph in his eyes.

Hector nodded his agreement.

Cook raised his voice so that he could be heard throughout the ship. ‘Time to move off. Remember, be slow and calm, as if the
Carlsborg
is simply heading down the coast to visit another trading post, and the
Revenge
is going with her.’

He grinned wolfishly as he turned back to face Hector. ‘We don’t want the fort mistaking us for pirates stealing Company property.’

‘I blame myself for telling you that her captain was away with half his crew,’ said Hector.

Cook shrugged. ‘I’d probably have found out for myself, from gossip among the canoe men. But I only decided finally to take the
Carlsborg
when you told me you and your friends would be on watch at dawn. The ideal time to capture a ship, and an opportunity I couldn’t ignore.’

‘And you counted on our loyalty to Jacques.’

‘Of course.’

‘What if the Governor raises the alarm when he sees the
Carlsborg
sail off before her captain has returned from the interior?’

‘Yesterday, after our little tour of the fort, I called in at the Governor’s office. I told him that my visit had made it clear there was a shortage of slave stock locally, so I would be taking the
Revenge
farther down the coast to trade.’

‘And he believed you?’

‘Naturally. He saw us as we left the slave pens. I took care to add that I would recommend to the
Carlsborg
’s first officer that he sail in company with me for a day or so, if he wished to pick up a few extra slaves. He would be able to return in time for her captain’s arrival.’ Cook gave a mirthless grin. ‘Before the Governor realizes the
Carlsborg
is overdue, I propose to make her vanish.’

With that, Cook walked away.

Hector slid a hand into his pocket and fingered Maria’s letter once again. His mind was in a tumult. Already he was calculating how many weeks it might be before he saw her again, and he felt a surge of happy anticipation at the thought that every mile the
Carlsborg
sailed would bring him closer to her. Yet he knew that he was also putting everything at risk by arriving on the coast of South America with a crew of ruffians whom the Spaniards considered barbaric pirates. He promised himself that at the very first opportunity he and his friends would abandon such unwelcome company.

T
HE LANDFALL
off the broad entrance to Magellan’s Strait was both disheartening and confusing. The weather, hazy with frequent rain showers, made for poor visibility, and the tide, flowing out of the Strait, created an ugly current of at least six or seven knots, which was more than the ship could manage. The only land in sight was a low barren island, a dismal yellowish-brown, a cable’s length to starboard. A single black albatross, which had followed the vessel since early morning, was now gliding over the boulder-strewn beach, searching for food.