Fair Blows The Wind Part 28

It was Guadalupe who got off the next shot, and it struck matchwood from the gunwale. Turley rested his musket on the tarp-covered cases and fired. His shot also scored. We saw one man drop his oar and rise up, and my ball took another.

The boat swung off and we saw the big man rise up, sword in hand, gesturing at the others. More afraid of him than of us, they set to work, but we had gained a little as we had our sail and they had none.

Suddenly there was a shout from Felipe. He was pointing, for the pinnace had cleared the inlet and was coming straight for us.

"Can you swim?" I asked Guadalupe. "If you can, you and Conchita head for the Good Catherine. Tell the captain you're friends of mine and he will stand by you."

She looked at me for a long moment. "And you?"

"We will keep them busy," I said. "I got these lads into this and I'll not see them suffer alone."

By then I'd recharged my musket. Armand and Felipe had taken up theirs. "Take turns," I advised. "Don't let them catch us with an empty gun."

We were still moving, and now there seemed to be action aboard the Good Catherine. Armand fired toward the boat and missed; Felipe did not. His shot was well aimed but the boat was drawing closer. His ball hit the man at the tiller, for he had gotten a good shot. The man leaped to his feet, clawing at his chest, then tumbled into the water. The boat swung wide and lost distance.

The Good Catherine was moving now, moving to cut off the pinnace. Suddenly a gun boomed and we saw a round-shot skip the waves across the bow of the pinnace. The pinnace promptly replied, and the master of the Good Catherine proved himself. He let go a broadside of four well-aimed guns. The first holed the pinnace a point abaft the beam, and just above the waterline. Another shot smashed the bowsprit and brought down the forestay.

What happened to the other two shots I never knew for at that moment their boat came alongside ours. Turley fired into the boat, as I did. Then, grasping my two pistols, I fired again, once with each.

"Tosti!" I yelled. "You're on the wrong side!"

He leaped to his feet, staring at me, and then the big man lunged from the stern of the boat and I was staring into the eyes of Rafe Leckenbie!

A shout from the pinnace tore his eyes from me. She was bearing down upon us, not answering to her whipstaff, for he who manned it must have been killed.

The Catherine was also coming up fast. Sheathing my blade, I ran forward to throw her a line. The pinnace, running blind, sheared into Leckenbie's boat and ran it down just as my line was taken by the Catherine.

For a time all was confusion. Leckenbie's men were swarming aboard the damaged pinnace as his longboat sank. Not sixty feet away Guadalupe and Conchita were being helped aboard the Catherine.

Armand and Felipe came to help me lash lines around the boxes. One after another they were hoisted aboard, and at last I stood on the deck.

Gesturing to the boxes, I said, "Take them below. To my cabin."

A glance toward the pinnace showed the two vessels were drifting apart. The pinnace was damaged, but nothing beyond repair.

Leckenbie was aboard there. Rafe Leckenbie, of all people! I stared after his boat with almost a hunger in my heart. Never had I wanted so much to fight a man, to meet him face to face. Had he been the man who led the attack on my father's house, I could have been no more eager.

Would this be our last meeting? Knowing the man, I knew it would not. He was never one to give up. I knew that from our first meeting he had meant to kill me, and not for an instant had the thought left his mind.

Nor mine...

Was it that I doubted myself? Was it because he had made me feel fear, knowing the closeness of death? There was a savage hunger in me, a hot desire to cross blades with him, to end once and for all what lay between us.

For with him alive, I would never know peace. Always I must be on guard, certain that he would strike at me in the way I could be most hurt. For Leckenbie, to kill was never enough. He enjoyed making other men suffer.

And now I was vulnerable, for now I loved...

Yes ... in that moment I admitted it. For the first time I confessed it to myself. For better or worse I loved Guadalupe Romana.

Not the Irish girl of my dreams, but a la.s.s from the high Andes, a girl of another blood, another way of life. She I loved. And neither of us could ever know safety as long as Rafe Leckenbie lived.

Now was the time...

Captain Dabney was on his p.o.o.p deck and I went to him. "Pursue them," I said. "We carmot let them escape. There is a man aboard there, whom I-"

He interrupted. "Captain Chantry, you are now aboard my s.h.i.+p. Yours is most of the cargo aboard, but the vessel is mine. I shall not risk it in needless pursuit of some reprobate you wish to fight."

He brushed lint from his sleeve. "You were in grave danger, so I came to your help. Now you are safe and I see no reason to risk either the vessel or a single man of my crew in order to follow up a fight that is yours alone."

"Do you think he will lie quietly by, knowing I am aboard and have what he wants? He will not. He will attack at first chance."

"Very well, then. If he attacks, we will defend ourselves. But if we can avoid his attack we will do so. I do not command a s.h.i.+p of war, Captain, nor a privateer. I am a simple merchant seaman and I shall do my best to return the investment of those who ventured with me, of whom you are one."

He turned and looked me up and down. "I would suggest, Captain Chantry, a bath, a change of linen, and a good night's sleep. In the morning you will think better of your insistence."

Ashamed, I shrugged. "You may be right, Captain. I am a fool."

"Not a fool, Captain. No man is a fool who can survive ash.o.r.e there and come back aboard with a lovely la.s.s and whatever is in those chests. I imagine you have done well."

He gestured toward the pinnace, limping away toward the inlet. "If you are wise in your judgment of that man, whomever he may be, he will come upon us when he can. Better get some sleep."

"The man aboard there," I said, "is Rafe Leckenbie!"

"Ah? The man who was driven from London. So this is what he came to! Well, well! Yes, I think we shall see more of him."

He bowed. "Captain Chantry, a good night to you."

A good night? With Rafe Leckenbie alive? Would there ever be a good night until I had faced him again?

32.

Surprisingly, I slept. Not the night through, but for several hours. The bath I had, and the change of linen lay hard by my bunk and ready for use. Yet when I awakened it was not the clash of arms that brought me from a sound sleep, nor a woman's scream, but the sound of the wind.

Our harbor back of Cape Lookout was a snug one-if any harbor is snug when a hurricane blows. The main force of the wind came, at first, from the southeast and that was the point of our best protection, but even there the land was not high. The waves broke on the outer sh.o.r.e, but the wind swept, almost unimpeded, across the low dunes that made up the point.

The Good Catherine was a snug vessel, her crew well chosen and tautly disciplined, the s.h.i.+p herself well kept and secure. Knowing the sort of man Dabney was, I felt secure despite the wind, and so did we all. I heard it from the crew when we went on deck.

For I could not lie abed with the wind blowing at such strength. Awakening, I dressed to be prepared for any emergency and was about to go on deck when the door to Guadalupe's cabin opened a crack. "Tatton? Is the storm very bad?"

"It is bad," I said, "but we're in as good a place to last it out as there is along this coast, the vessel is a strong one, and her captain an excellent seaman. If there is serious trouble I will come to you." Suddenly a thought occurred to me. "Will you wait, Guadalupe? I have something for you."

Hastily I returned to my cabin where all was battened down and secure and took from among the chests the one containing her clothing. It was the largest of all, but not heavy for one of my strength, and I took it to her.

When she saw what I had she drew back the door, remaining behind it, and I placed the chest just inside the room. I showed her hooks upon the wall, low down. "Lash it, or it may break a leg for you. The lines are there." Stepping out, I went on deck quickly and after a moment heard the door close just as I was leaving the pa.s.sage.

Sheets of driving rain swept the deck like volleys of grapeshot, and the sky was weirdly lit by continuous flashes of lightning. Grasping the ladder, I went to the p.o.o.p deck where Dabney stood, his legs spread wide to take the roll of the s.h.i.+p.

He saw me and lifted a hand. When I drew near he shouted above the storm, "She's holding well. I think we may have no trouble."

Several men were about the deck, but no more than would be around on any watch. Dabney was sparing of his men as of all else.

Standing beside him, I watched the rain and spray blow through the rigging and sweep the deck and thought of those far out at sea-or worse, those who had been caught sailing off the sh.o.r.e. Many a fine s.h.i.+p would go down this night, or be beached out yonder, and torn apart by the waves. In such a gale as this the safest place, unless one lay as we did, was far at sea. Often I'd heard landlubbers talking of ancient seafarers staying within sight of land, which was absurd, as it was by far the most dangerous place to be, what with rocks, sandbars, shoals, and contrary winds or unexpected capes on an unmapped coast.

During a lull in the roar of the wind I said, "I thought you might need a hand so I came on deck."

"Kind of you, Captain. But I suggest you go below and have your rest. By the look of you when you came aboard I'd say you need it."

He glanced at me. "How is the la.s.s making it?"

"Fine enough. She heard me in the pa.s.sage and asked if all was well. I a.s.sured her we had a sound s.h.i.+p and a sounder master. I hope she went back to sleep."

"Aye." He seemed pleased at my confidence. "You do the same, Captain. I might add that our trading to date has been profitable, very profitable."

Below I did not lie down at first, being too much awake. Catching hold of the table, I eased myself onto one of the settees against the bulkhead and took a book from the shelf, where they were held in place by a strip of molding. It had been long since there had been time or opportunity to read and I sorely missed it.

The books upon the shelf were not the same as those it held when last I was aboard. Evidently those had been replaced by a store the captain maintained below decks.

One was called Tafrikh al-Hind, and the language was strange to me. I was just replacing it when Dabney came in, stripping off the cloak he had been wearing on deck.

I held it up. "What is it?" I asked.

"A book about India," he said, "written by Al-Biruni, one of the greatest Islamic scholars."

He draped his cloak over a chair back and dropped to another settee. "My man will have some hot chocolate here at once." He indicated the book. "We do wrong in the Western world to ignore the scholars of the East for they have much to teach us. He was one of the greatest and long resided in India. This book was written about 1030 or so ... I am not sure of the date. But very good, very good, indeed."

"You have been there?"

Dabney glanced up. "I am well past fifty years of age, young man, and nearly twenty of those years were spent in the Indian Ocean ... the Arabian Sea, if you will. Men were sailing those seas before ever a Greek prow cut the waters of the Aegean.

"Hippalus, we Europeans say, discovered the monsoon winds that will take a s.h.i.+p across the Indian Ocean from the coast of Africa to India. Alexander found pilots from India who knew all those waters three hundreds years earlier. They showed his admiral Nearchus the way to the Persian Gulf."

A man entered bearing a covered pot. Taking cups from a rack, he filled two of them with steaming chocolate.

"The days are long at sea, Captain Chantry, and when one has an efficient crew there is time on one's hands.

"I read ... I replenish my books often, yet a few I always keep for they are like old friends. Once I read them through; now I dip into them from time to time and read a few pages.

"When I was a lad I went out East on a voyage with my father. Our s.h.i.+p was wrecked there and we remained for many years. First my father and then I myself were masters of s.h.i.+ps there."

We drank our chocolate and talked, the s.h.i.+p rolling with wind and sea. At last he returned to the deck, and I to my bunk.

All night long the wind blew hard and strong, the roar of the winds a mighty sound in the night. Then of a sudden there was no wind and the silence awakened me to a yellow, awesome dawn. There was no sound. Suddenly we were caught in a world empty of it, and my throat caught with fear. Then I realized. We must be in the eye of the storm. If so, the winds would return, but from another direction.

I dressed and started for the deck, but Guadalupe was there before me. "I need the air," she said. When I started to explain about the hurricane she told me she understood. She had experienced such storms before.

She stood beside me and we watched the sailors, tightening up all that might have come loose, preparing for what was to come.

"Did you live in Lima?" I asked.

"In the mountains and at the sea, and then in Cuzco. Only at the last was I in Lima. There was much that was different. I remember the bullfights, and I remember once there was a new viceroy or some official and they decorated all the balconies with greenery. We went to a play given by the Society of Jesus ent.i.tled The Prince of Fez.

"There were many duels, for there was much talk of honor. And scarcely a week went by when someone was not killed, or so it seemed to me.

"My mother died when I was eleven and my father was killed ... It was said to have been done by thieves but I did not believe so. I believe he was killed by a.s.sa.s.sins, for my mother had told him much and they thought to find among his papers what he would not tell them."

"And they did not?"

She smiled triumphantly. "They did not. There were papers and maps also. I hid them."

"They may have been found since."

"They will never find them. The house where we lived was very old. My mother had once lived there with her grandmother, who was the daughter of a brother to the Inca. She showed me a secret place."

We went below and Gonchita served us breakfast. Silliman Turley came aft, but would not listen to moving aft with us. "I've a good bunk for'ard an' I like it there. What about that Leckenbie? You think he's through?"

"No." I was sure about that. "He's not through." What would he do? Would he dare an attack under cover of the storm? How badly hurt was the pinnace? She did not seem too badly damaged, but if she were damaged beyond repair he would have a double reason for attacking us. He would need a s.h.i.+p.

What had become of Don Diego? And where was Don Manuel's s.h.i.+p, which was expected at any moment? Had the hurricane destroyed it? Or was it lying up in safety somewhere down the coast?

Rafe Leckenbie knew of that s.h.i.+p, too, and would be watching for it. Nor could either of us escape from the haven we had chosen until the storm abated. To try to get out now would expose us to all the dangers of a lee sh.o.r.e. Outside of our cove the sh.o.r.e stretched away to the northwestward before curving around to the south, low, sandy sh.o.r.es so far as I could see or remember, and a deathtrap for any kind of sailing craft in this weather. Like it or not we were bound here together until the storm blew itself out.

Dabney came down from the deck once more as we were finis.h.i.+ng our breakfast. He listened to my thoughts about Leckenbie and agreed. "The rain is easing off, and as soon as it does so I shall have all the guns charged and ready."

"Leckenbie will try for surprise," I said, "using a frontal attack only as a last resort. He's devilish shrewd, and a daring man."

"We will be ready," Dabney a.s.sured me. Toward nightfall the wind began to die down, blowing in fitful gusts, but the sea remained heavy. Dabney had retired to rest, leaving his mate in command. MaeCrae was a Scot and a solid man. Now twenty-six, he had been fourteen years at sea and had sailed with Hawkins and Frobisher before coming to the Good Catherine.

He was a tall, lean, no-nonsense sort of man who kept a tight s.h.i.+p, liked most men, and trusted none of them too far. "We've a good lot aboard here," he told me, "and they sail with us because they like it. Most of the crew have been with us three to four voyages now.

"Captain Dabney lets them carry a bit of trade on their own account, so each makes a bit on the side. n.o.body does his own trading. The captain does that. But they can carry up to ten pounds each in goods aboard here. As mate and sailing master I can carry up to fifty pounds, and I do. Translated into goods, that will make a tidy profit for the voyage. So we've all an interest in it."

Alone, I paced the deck, looking off toward the inlet from which the pinnace would probably come. Now I avoided Guadalupe, as I was restless and irritable, knowing attack might come at any moment. If we were caught unawares not one of us would survive. The quality of mercy could not be expected of Rafe Leckenbie.

How had Tosti ever become entangled with him? He had been a decent young man of no particular talent, much knowledge, and a desire to have something and be somebody without any clear notion of how that was to come about. He had sat waiting for the pot of gold to fall into his lap, forever talking of inheriting money, of finding treasure, of somehow coming into wealth without doing anything to bring it about. I had liked him, and he had been friendly when I had no friends, yet Leckenbie may have offered an easy road to all he wanted.

The waters of the cove darkened, the heavy seas abated somewhat, although I believed the tail of the hurricane had still to pa.s.s over us. Occasionally stars were glimpsed through the clouds, and the wind had died down although surf could still be heard booming on the Atlantic sh.o.r.e, beyond Cape Lookout.

A gull swung by heading in toward the sh.o.r.e. I went up on the p.o.o.p, which offered a better vantage point for observing the cove, but all was dark and still. The few stars had disappeared under clouds.

MacCrae came to my side. "You know the man Leckenbie, Dabney says. Is he as bad as they say?"

"Worse. He will stop at nothing, has no regard for people and never did. He is a man who is totally evil because he is totally selfish. Men follow him because he leads them and because of hope of gain or fear. He will use people and discard or kill them without wasting an instant. He is also the finest swordsman I have ever met."