Page 31

L ong before the morning haze had burned away, the Cygnet’s crew was a hive of activity.

Men scrambled up the shrouds and onto the yards to await the orders to lower away the sails.

The anchor crew winched the great iron hook off the sandy bottom and the bow of the ship was turning gracefully into the current.

A healthy breeze funneled through the channel between the two islands, and as the six ships started to maneuver into position, each of their massive steering and main sails cracked forward as they filled with the wind.

Gliding regally forward under full sail, the Black Wind led the stately procession out of the bay followed by the Pride , the Nighthawk , Daffodil , and Renard .

Rose’s ship drew up the rear and was the last to pass out into open water.

The stranded crews lined the shore and ran to the headland to follow their progress as the ships cleared the point.

Standing on the quarterdeck, Rose caught glints of light from the tops of the pitons where British sentries with mirrors were flashing messages down to those in the bay, marking which direction the small flotilla took.

Other messages were flashing from the treeline as well, bidding good luck and godspeed.

All of the best and worst memories washed over Rose as she watched the Twin Nobbins grow smaller in the distance.

She would have liked more time with her father, for she loved him dearly.

She would have liked to have had him standing by her side like he had in the early days, when he was teaching her how to read the wind and the sea, how to navigate by the sun and by the stars, how to load and fire a cannon.

Granted, the last lesson had met with some resistance, but she had planted powder-blackened hands on her hips and demanded he name another single captain who could not load and fire one of his own big guns.

She sighed at the memory and looked down at her hands. Try as she might, she had not been able to entirely remove the stain of black ink, which made the tiny hairs on her arms prickle to attention with the memory of how it had got there.

Shaking her head, she walked the length of the ship to the bow. The men paused in their work to tug respectfully on a forelock as she passed. She took pride in knowing the names of every member of her crew and knew they were loyal to the last man.

She remained on deck, her eagle eyes trained on the other ships to mark their speeds and handling. She only went below when the islands were reduced to specks on the horizon.

Sailing the British prizes to Kell’s Bay would cost them at least half a day’s sail off their set course, but Sebastien agreed the time would be well spent.

The bay was accommodating to privateers who found it necessary to dispose of captured ships whose flags would brand them as pirates and jeopardize their letters of marque.

It was also a stewing pot of merchants, privateers, and sailors fresh from crossing the Atlantic who gossiped like washerwomen around a town well.

If there were rumors of an English fleet passing through the islands, the whispers would be heard there.

“Aye, we passed a fleet o’ ships five days gone. Big bastards they was too, rollin’ through the waves like fat sows.”

Fonteyne leaned forward to refill the sailor’s cup with rum.

They were seated in a gloomy tavern that stank of fish, vomit, and sweat.

The dozen or so rickety tables were crowded with raucous drunkards, many with a buxom whore on their laps.

Fonteyne and Rose had come ashore at Kell’s Bay, where Sebastien soon proved his worth by addressing the tavern keeper by name and tossing a handful of silver coins on the table to buy drinks for all the of the patrons …

most of whom knew his ship and him by name or reputation.

They took seats at an empty table and ordered tankards of ale.

The casks of flowing spirits soon brought a crowd of sailors around them, happy to share news and information.

Crews from both sides of the war between America and Britain were present, keeping their distance for the most part and respecting the neutrality of Kell’s Bay.

There were always some, however, who were deep enough in their cups to be bristling for a fight at the slightest insult, which made sitting between the two factions feel like being in the middle of a ring of lit powder kegs.

“We kept well clear,” the sailor continued. “Captain were leery o’ getting’ too close.”

“Cause he’s a yellow-bellied cock,” another chimed in, laughing at his own wit.

A fist slammed on the table, but the old tar quickly added, “Cause some o’ them ships looked big enough they could carry the town o’ London on board. One o’ the bastards had t’ree decks above the waterline an’ more guns than I ever seen afore on one ship.”

Fonteyne exchanged a knowing glance with Rose. Three decks would mean a ship of the line. An admiral’s ship.

“Did you count how many ships there were?” he asked the sailor.

“Near a hunnerd,” said one voice.

“Don’t be daft. Mayhap fifty.”

A third sailor cackled and held up a hand that was missing three fingers. “More’n I could count. But they was in as long line as I couldn’t see the end o’ them.”

“Weren’t no merchant ships. Too many guns,” said the first sailor. “Saw too damned many redcoats up on deck.”

And that launched a volley of insults, which started fists flying.

Chairs scraped and shouts brought about flung tankards and spilled ale.

Soon there were fights breaking out everywhere and Fonteyne grabbed Rose’s arm to guide her through the surging mass toward the open door.

Reed, Stubb, and Duardo, had been at different tables in the tavern being generous with their coin and feigning drunkenness to loosen more tongues.

Reed and Duardo emerged seconds after Rose and Fonteyne; Stubb was last to leave the fray, having to weave his way around and through a sea of tangled legs.

He had lost his cap and would have charged back into the fray if Duardo had not snatched at a fistful of his vest and hoisted him into the air to hold him back.

“Let me go, ye lubber-nosed black demon!” Stubb’s arms and legs flailed for a moment but Duardo easily held him at arm’s length. “Let me go, I say! That were my favorite cap. An’ we’ve not had a good fist fight in months!”

He swung his fists in the empty air a few more times.

At a glance and a shrug from Rose, Duardo set him down.

He straightened his vest with a loud har-umphf and started to stalk back into the tavern but when a large wooden bench came hurling out the door, he hastily changed his mind and followed Rose and the others down to the beach where a crew from the Black Wind was waiting with a longboat.

“So the fleet is real,” Rose said when they were on board. “Five days out, give or take.”

“According to information which may be five days or more old already. Comprised of either a hundred or fifty ships, which probably means ten to twenty.”

“Either way, they’ve likely stopped at New Providence,” Nate Reed chimed in. “Closest port for resupplying food and water after a crossing.”

Sebastien agreed. Once a thriving pirate stronghold, the island of Nassau had been taken over by the British a century earlier and was now a major port of call for ships coming in from the Atlantic.

Commerce and trade had brought in wealthy landowners and merchants whose lavish homes now dotted the verdant slopes and hills.

Fancy carriages filled streets that were lined with shops catering to elegant ladies with silk parasols.

Sharing the wide span of the harbour, the Royal Navy had established a base that was easily big enough to accommodate a fleet of ships.

“Nicholls isn’t a man who likes to rush into anything,” Sebastien said.

“He will be quite happy receiving a hero’s welcome and linger long enough to fill his ample gut with good food and wine before he has to venture into a war.

It’s almost tempting to sail to New Providence and have a closer look. ”

“Almost?” Rose asked.

He looked at her and saw the sparkle of excitement that had flared in her eyes. “No! No, I can guess what you’re thinking and no. There is not one chance in hell we are going anywhere near New Providence. We found out what we needed to know.”

“That there was a sighting of possibly a British fleet of possibly five or fifty or a hundred ships? It doesn’t tell us where they are heading or how many men and guns are aboard.

We have time to take a closer look and get better information.

As long as the fleet sits at anchor in New Providence, it means they are days behind us and both Barataria and New Orleans are safe from a surprise attack.

And the more information we can provide Lafitte as well as General Jackson, the better prepared they can be. ”

Fonteyne crossed his arms over his chest. “And just how do you propose we sail into the harbor without causing a stir?”

“We still have my father’s ship,” she said.

“Sailing her into the port of Nassau would hardly raise any suspicion. The St. Clare Shipping Company has warehouses in town and a house up on the hills where I spent a goodly piece of my childhood. A day or two at most and we could be in, find out what we need to know, and be gone again.”

“Would no one question the absence of your father at the helm?”

“By the time anyone thought to question it, we would be long gone.”

“The risk?—”

“Would be well worth finding out everything we could about the fleet. Or do you not think the size and strength of the fleet would be the first questions Lafitte or Jackson would ask?”

Behind them, Duardo made a rumbling sound in his throat, but Stubb was all for it. He punched Digby Fitch in the arm then rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Ye wanted some adventure, Cock. Stick wi’ us an’ ye’ll be havin’ it by the barrelful.”

Sebastien held up a cautionary hand. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet. We could find ourselves trapped and thrown in irons should our presence draw suspicion.”

“Then we must have a care not to draw any suspicion,” Rose said. “We’ll sail into port in broad daylight and leave the same way. Easy.”

“If it’s so easy, why are the hackles rising across the nape of my neck?”

“Because the thought of sailing into a British port under the noses of the British navy tempts you as much as it does me, and because it is too tempting not to do it.”

Nathan Reed shook his head and muttered, “And because the pair of you are both stark starving mad.”