Part 69 (2/2)
”John, have the boys drop that short sail and weigh anchor
as soon as we're aboard. This westerly off the coast should get us underway and past the blockade. We'll just keep her close hauled till we've doubled the Point, then run up some more canvas.”
”It'll be a miracle if we manage to take her by the Point in this sea, and in the dark besides.” Mewes was poised in the bow of the longboat.
”When we get aboard, I'll take the helm. You just get the canvas on her.”
”Aye.” He reached up and seized a notch beneath a gunport, pulling the longboat under the deadeyes that supported the mainmast shrouds. As he began mounting the rope ladder he tossed the line up through the rain.
Winston had taken Katherine's arm to help her up when he heard a buzz past his ear. Then, through the rain, came a faint pop, the report of a musket.
”G.o.d's blood!” He turned back to look. Dimly through the rain he could make out a line of helmeted infantrymen along the sh.o.r.e, muskets in hand. They were disorganized, without a commander, but standing alongside them and yelling orders was a heavy man in a wide black hat.
Benjamin Briggs.
”He betrayed us! He brought them right down to the bay. I wonder what he's figuring to get in return? Doubtless a place in the new government. We've got to . . .”
Before he could finish, Katherine had caught his arm and was pointing over in the direction of the river mouth. ”Hugh, wait. Do you see that?
There's someone out there. In the surf. I thought I noticed it before.”
”More d.a.m.ned infantry?” He turned to stare. ”They'd not try swimming after us. They'd wait for longboats.”
”I can't tell. It's over there, on the left. I think someone's trying to wade out.”
He squinted through the rain. A figure clad in white was waist deep in the surf, holding what seemed to be a large bundle.
”That's no Roundhead. I'll wager it's likely Briggs' mulata. Though she's just a little too late. I've a mind to leave her.” He paused to watch as a wave washed over the figure and sent it staggering backward.
Then another bullet sang past and he heard the shouts of Benjamin Briggs.
”Maybe I owe a certain planter one last service.”
”Cap'n, we've got to get this tub to sea.” Mewes was crouching behind the bulwarks of the _Defiance_. ”Those d.a.m.n'd Roundheads along the sh.o.r.e don't have many muskets yet, but they're apt to be gettin'
reinforcements any time now. So if it's all the same, I don't think I'd encourage waitin' around all night.”
”John, how are the anchors?”
”I've already weighed the heavy one up by the bow.” He called down.
”Say the word and we can just slip the cable on that little one at the stern.”
”Maybe we've got time.” He pushed the longboat back away from the side of the _Defiance_. As he reached for an oar, Morris threw down his helmet and dove into the swell. In moments the commander was swimming toward sh.o.r.e.
”Aye, he's gone, Yor Wors.h.i.+p. He's a quick one, to be sure.” The Scottish infantryman gave only a pa.s.sing glance as he threw his weight against the oar. ”You'll na be catching him, on my faith.”
”And what about you?”
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