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  Meanwhile we dug out around the hull, using lines and poles to get her on an even keel. We were under no false notions about Bardle. He not only wanted our ship and cargo. He also wanted us ... dead!

  We shifted two guns to the stern that could be brought to bear if an enemy approached us from the waterside, as we more than half expected.

  Meanwhile, I saw Abigail only at intervals.

  Four days we labored, patching the hull, restepping the mast, repairing rigging. I had much experience with splicing line, so could do my share, and did it.

  We hoped to float free at an early hightide, yet I had an idea that Bardle was also thinking of tides.

  Jublain sat in the cabin with us, his dark, cynical face bored with our talk. "Bardle knows about tides," he said at last, "he knows all that we know, and the man's no fool. Why do you suppose he has done nothing?"

  "We served him well on his last attempt," Corvino replied. "He's had his belly full."

  Jublain snorted his disgust. "He waits for you to complete repairs," he said. "He wants no hulk on the beach, but a vessel afloat and loaded with cargo he can trade or sell. He has twice or three times the men we have, and he'll come when he wills."

  Out upon deck I looked at the sky. Clouds bulked large, and the wind lifted, rustling the rigging, flapping a loose corner of canvas. There was a spatter of heavy drops.

  A storm was coming, but storm or not we must use the tide when it came, and with luck we might float free. Brian Tempany came out on deck, glanced at the sky and around, then ordered his men to clean up what tools remained, to get them aboard and make all fast.

  "In the storm," I said, "we might slip away."

  "We'll ride out the storm," Tempany said, "and leave when it has blown away. I think we'll have our chance then."

  Abigail came on deck. The wind was whipping her skirt about her legs, and I braced myself against it, wishing I were warmer dressed.

  "Barnabas Sackett," she said. "It is a good name."

  "A name is what a man makes it," I said. "My father did well with his and I hope to do as much. The times are changing, and many people are restless with the desire to better themselves. We have too many gentlemen who do nothing, are nothing, and many a yeoman or apprentice with ability who would rise in position if the chance existed." I waved a hand. "Here there is no such restriction."

  "Perhaps. But when enough people come here, it will be the same. ..."

  I grinned cheerfully. "Then the secret is to come first and help to make the rules by which the rest will live."

  "The King will do that," she objected.

  "No doubt. But the King is far away, and his word needs time in which to travel, and men have a way of making their own adjustments. There is no Court here, hence no need for courtiers. There is great need for strength, courage and intelligence, and you will find those qualities as often or more among artisans as gentlemen."

  "You like this?" she indicated the shore.

  My eyes swept the coastline, green and lovely even under the sullen clouds. "I do. It is a magnificent coast, a land filled with everything. I shall go away. But I shall come back again."

  She looked at me for a long time, and what she might have said then I do not know, for Captain Tempany emerged from the companionway shouting, "Stand by, fore-and-aft! The tide's coming in!"

  Even as he spoke, a wave of water rolled past the hull, out past the bow, then receded slowly, carrying away some of the sand with it.

  "Here she comes!" Jublain shouted. "Sail, ho!"

  It was the Jolly Jack, carrying a good stand of sail, coming down toward us.

  Chapter 17

  She was yet some distance off and the wind was wrong for her, but that she intended to come up to us for an attack was obvious. And there we lay, still aground, with only a few small guns to bear.

  It was my time to act, and I acted now, without thinking, without speaking to Tempany.

  "Sakim! Jublain! Corvino! Here ... to me!" I grabbed a passing sailor and shoved him toward a gun. "Get a sling around it. Quick now!"

  Sakim had come running and I directed him to haul our gig alongside and get into it. Running to the cabin I retrieved my longbow and the arrows I had made as well as some I had brought from England.

  "Tumble in," I told Sakim. "We'll do a bit of business this day!"

  From the deck they lowered down a light but powerful cast-iron gun and we lashed it into place. The gig was light and fast, under ordinary conditions, but now she sat deep and we shifted what weight there was to counterbalance the gun. Then we pushed off, got our sail up and headed for the open sound, needing all the room we could get.

  The tide was rising rapidly, but it needed time to float such a craft as the Tiger, although glancing back I could see that Tempany had a boat out astern of her with a line to the ship and the boats crew pulling with a will.

  If the Jolly Jack had sighted our gig, she seemed to think it of no importance. It was the Tiger they wanted, and they wanted her free of the sand and their work done for them. The Jack was moving in toward the coast now, prepared to stand off and demand a surrender or shell the Tiger to bits.

  Now we put about our gig and commenced moving toward the Jack. My thought was to cause trouble, to buy time for the Tiger to get well afloat, and what I proposed to do was the height of foolishness. All depended on the maneuverability of the gig, much of which had been sacrificed to carry the cannon.

  We edged in close and intent upon the Jack. They paid us small attention. We laid our gun on the form'st and touched a match to the hole.

  A moment only, then our gun boomed and the gig jerked violently in the water. There was a startled shout from the Jack, then an angry voice telling us to sheer off or be sunk.

  We had done no harm to the mast, but we had hit the bulwark just forward of mast, carried away some rigging made fast there and scattered fragments of wood in all directions.

  Carefully, we loaded her again. We had put just eight balls aboard, and powder enough, but no more.

  Now they opened a port upon our side and ran out a gun. Kneeling, I took aim with my long-bow and put an arrow through the open port. It must have startled them, although I doubt if damage was done.

  We turned right in toward the Jack, firing the second time as we lined out straight with a good shot at her. This time our shot was high. It hit the after-house just abaft the wheel.

  Almost at the same instant, a Jack gun boomed and a shot splashed only a few feet away from us. We were much less of a target than the Jack, and before they could put a rammer down her muzzle, we had turned under her stern and come up on the portside, but too close for any gun to reach us.

  Men rushed to the rail with small arms. Jublain killed one with a pistol shot. They put their helm hard over to run us down, but Sakim had foreseen the move and was already moving away, then falling back.

  Somebody ran aft and fired a futile shot at us, and then there was another boom. We saw smoke lifting from the muzzle of one of the stern guns on the Tiger. One, then another.

  We did not see what effect the Tiger's guns had, but maneuvered close to stay out of range of the Jack's stern guns. Men came aft with muskets.

  I put an arrow into the first one, missed the second, and then suddenly, I swore.

  Sakim turned and looked at me. "What?" he asked.

  "We are fools, Sakim. We forget the obvious."

  They were all looking at me now.

  "The rudder," I said, "it's point-blank range. Smash their rudder."

  Jublain had finished reloading the gun. "All right. Ready when you are."

  "Take her in close, Sakim." I held my bow with an arrow notched.

  The Jolly Jack was swinging now to bring her starboard guns to bear on the Tiger.

  We ran in as close as we dared. Jublain touched the match to the hole. There was an instant of deadly silence while we waited, then the smash and concussion of the gun.

  The four-pound ball hit the rudder post and smashed i
t. Hastily, Jublain loaded again. It was a pleasure to watch the man, for it was obvious he was a gunner who knew his business, and he worked smoothly, without hesitation or fumble. Again the gun bellowed ... and the rudder hung loose. The ship looming over us began to fall away.

  Sakim was already turning our gig away. For an instant, close in to the vessel, we lost the wind. Then it filled our sails and the gig glided out from the shadow of the ship. A couple of shots barked heavily, balls hit near us, one striking splinters from the gunwhale, but our gig handled smoothly and we sailed away.

  Glancing back I saw the Jolly Jack had turned broadside to the shore, her guns no longer able to bear on the Tiger, some of the crew desperately trimming sail, others working at the stern to rig some kind of a jury rudder.

  The Tiger had floated free! Now her crew were trying to work her offshore. She had some canvas up, and the longboat was again towing her. As she turned, the Tiger let go with two guns, both shots taking effect in the Jack's rigging: a yard came crashing to her deck. And then the Tiger's sails filled and she gathered speed.

  The longboat cut loose and dropped back to be picked up.

  Further out upon the water we waited, watching the Jack. Bardle was a seaman. I'll give him that. He was using his canvas to keep her headed right, and his men were working feverishly. The Tiger moved in close to us and a seaman tossed us a line. Sakim made it fast and Corvino rigged the sling on our gun. With another line aft we held our gig close to the Tiger's side, as the gun was hoisted aboard and our own towline made fast.

  I was the last man to go aboard, and for a moment I clung to the rope and glanced shoreward. Dark and green was the distant forest, green of trees against the pale sandhills closer by, and blue the water. It was a fair land ... a fair land. I would leave it with reluctance.

  Hand over hand I went up the rope and the gig fell behind on its towrope. Tempany was on the quarterdeck, with Abigail close beside him.

  "Neat work, Sackett," he said, "very neat work."

  We pointed our bows to the north and east, looking for a way to the open sea. Tempany had traded along the coast before coming to where we had met, and his trade had gone well. I had furs ... enough to pay me well for my time, yet I wanted more and we had the space for it.

  "What now?" Jublain asked me.

  "We'll sail north," I said, "but if I prevail we'll go into that big bay north of here, cut some mast timbers and burn driftwood for potash."

  And so we did. On the shores of the large bay we found standing timber, and we cut several for ships' masts, burning wood the meanwhile until we had forty tons of potash to add to our cargo. There had been, meanwhile, more trade with Indians nearby.

  Dealing with Indians I found them of shrewd intelligence, quick to detect the false, quick to appreciate quality, quick to resent contempt and to appreciate bravery. So much of the Indian's life was predicated upon courage that he respected it above all else. He needed courage in the hunt, and in warfare, and to achieve success within the tribe he needed both courage and wit.

  We kept to smaller bays and river-mouths, hoping not to be found by Bardle. But we knew he would be looking. He was better gunned than we, and had a far larger crew, and fighting men all of them.

  At last, our holds filled to the bursting with furs, potash and timber, we set sail for England.

  "It will be good to be home," Abigail said, at supper.

  "Yes," I agreed, reluctantly, "but I shall come back to these shores."

  Tempany looked up from his soup. "If we come safely back to England," he said, "you will realize a goodly sum."

  "Yes," I agreed.

  "And you have friends there, awaiting your return."

  "That is possible," I said carefully, "but I place no faith in such things. My future is one I must make myself, this I know. And my future, I think, is back there."

  "Gosnold will be sailing again, and there was talk of what Raleigh might do. So many have disappeared in that wilderness ... We have been very fortunate."

  We discussed much during the long and often stormy nights that followed. We talked of a trading post, of a place in London, on the docks, a place from which to sell or ship our goods. With a man in London, Tempany commanding the ships, and myself in America, we could soon build such a business.

  "Who for London?" Tempany said, frowning. "I have been so long away that I know few men."

  "I know the man," I said quietly. "He is a rogue, but an honest man withal. I speak of Peter Tallis."

  "You spoke of him. Is he to be trusted?"

  "I believe so. I would trust him if he gave us his word ... and he is shrewd. He knows business, he knows people, he is aware of all that goes on in London. We should look far for a better man."

  "Talk to him then."

  So I intended, and such plans were made, and the plans for the discharge of my cargo, and for sharing with Jublain and Corvino. All this was attended to.

  We sailed up the Thames, at last, looking at the lights along the shore. It seemed impossible there could be so many.

  Suddenly, Jublain grasped my arm. "Barnabas ... look!"

  He pointed, and I felt a shock, then a wave of disquiet and fear.

  And well I might.

  It was the Jolly Jack, come home before us, and by the look of her, here for several days.

  Nick Bardle was ashore then, and he would surely have seen Rupert Genester.

  They would be waiting for me.

  Chapter 18

  River men came alongside, calling up to take us ashore, but Tempany would have none of them. "They are a hard lot, good men many of them, arrant thieves many others. We will take no risk. We'll take our own boat ashore."

  He glanced at me. "Do you take care. I am ashore to speak of my voyage and our success, as well as to lay plans for our next."

  "Corvino is off to the Walk for Peter Tallis," I said, "and I shall go to the Tabard and send word to my friend Hasling. If Tallis does not know the state of affairs, Hasling will."

  As we descended into our boat some of the river men cursed us for not using theirs, and then vanished toward their berths. One boat lingered, seeming to follow us.

  "Aye," Jublain said gloomily, "we be nearing trouble again."

  On English soil again, Tempany and Abigail were off to their home, and I and my friend to the Tabard. If Genester wanted me, let him come. The arrogance of success was on me.

  We walked into the dark and narrow streets, picking our way over the broken cobbles, and around refuse thrown into the streets from the buildings along the way. A rat scurried from underfoot, and the shadows seemed to move.

  Jublain moved nearer. "I like it not, Barnabas. I have the stink of death in my nostrils."

  "Not our death," I replied quietly. "If there is death tonight it will be another who dies."

  "Let us hope," he commented dryly.

  My hand was on my sword hilt, and Jublain carried a naked dagger in his left hand, close down to his side, his right hand on his sword hilt. But nothing happened. We emerged from a dark street into a lighter one, somewhat wider, and Jublain sheathed his dagger with a sigh.

  Glancing back suddenly my eye was quick enough to see a shadow fade into an alleyway, yet there were many abroad at such a time who had no wish to be seen, some of them honest men. Yet I knew what Jublain meant by having the smell of death in his nostrils. I had it, as well.

  The Tabard was lighted and the inn yard itself had light from its windows.

  We squeezed in, and found for ourselves a corner. It was not wine I wanted this night but a tankard of ale, for my throat was dry from walking the shadowed streets.

  The ale was brought us, and at further urging and a coin to grease the wheels, several thick slices of ham, a loaf, and several large apples. We were hungry, ravenously so.

  There was a square-shouldered, apple-cheeked maid I recalled from before—easily recalled, because she had eyes for Jublain, for all his sallow manner.

  She came near to our table.
Well enough she remembered me, and Jublain as well. "There is a message," she whispered. "It was left for you but two days past. Sit you, and I will have it down to you."

  She had scarcely stopped by the table, almost as if held up by the press about us, and then she was gone. "A likely lass," I said, grinning at Jublain.

  He shrugged his shoulders and stared into his ale. "Aye," he said, "I have a fear of such. Those who would rob you or trick you are easy enough to handle, but such as her ... A man has small chance with such as her."

  "I'd best look for a new partner then," I said, "for certain it is she has set her cap for you."

  There was a man with a tankard at a table nearby, a red-faced fellow with a shock of uncombed hair and blond eyebrows. A wide face he had, and thick hands that needed washing. He was looking everywhere but as us but I had an idea he was listening, despite the tumult.

  "There's a pitcher near," I commented, as I lifted my tankard, "with big handles."

  Jublain's eyes were cynically amused. His back was to the man. "Would a sweep of my sword take him?"

  "Aye, but it's a surly rogue we have there, and I think his handles are picking up nothing. I think we should let the pitcher be until we see whether it stands alone."

  "I suppose," Jublain said, "but I would like to slice off enough to bait a fish and feed it to him."

  Soon the red-cheeked girl came by again, bringing each of us a fresh tankard of ale. She leaned far over.

  "Pay for this," she said. "I am watched."

  We paid out the money, and she put her hand on the table to pick it up, dropping a folded bit of paper on the table. I casually covered it with my hand. When she had gone, we ate for a bit, and drank. The last thing I wished to do was bring ill to this girl who wished to help.

  Then without lifting the paper from the table, I spread open its folds. I knew the hand in which it was written, and read aloud:

  There is an order for your arrest: The one of whom we spoke is dying. You will be thrown into prison or killed. We are doing what we can. The one who would help has been taken to the country, and is held there, supposedly to give him the best of care. No one is permitted to see him.