Part 84 (1/2)
”You are right, senor,” Vargas continued as they steered on around the Point. ”I have often wondered myself why there was no port city out here. Perhaps it is because this island has nothing but stupid _agricultores_. ”
Their tiny armada of dugouts glided quickly across the strait, then hugged the sh.o.r.e, headed toward the mouth of the Rio Cobre. Now they were directly under the _vigia_.
As they rowed past, five figures suddenly emerged from the trees and began wading toward them. Winston immediately signaled the dugouts to put in.
Atiba was grinning as he hoisted himself over the side. ”It was simple.” He settled among the seamen. ”There were only two wh.o.r.eson Spaniards.”
”Where's Serina?” Katherine scanned the empty sh.o.r.eline. ”Did anything happen?”
”When a woman is allowed to sit in council with warriors, there are always d.a.m.nable complications.” Atiba reached and helped one of the English seamen in. ”She would not have us act as men and kill the wh.o.r.esons both. So she is still up there on the mountain, holding a musket.”
”You're not a better man if you murder their militia.” Katherine scowled at him. ”After you take a place, you only need hold it.”
”That is the weak way of a woman, senhora.” He glanced toward the hill as again their oars flashed in the moonlight. ”It is not the warrior way.”
Winston grimaced, but said nothing, knowing the killing could be far from over.
In only minutes they had skirted the bay and were approaching the river mouth. As their dugouts veered into the Rio Cobre, the whitecaps gave way to placid ripples. The tide had just begun running out, and the surface of the water was flawless, reflecting back the half-moon. Now they were surrounded by palms, and beyond, dense forests. Since the rainy season was past, the river itself had grown shallow, with wide sand bars to navigate. But a quarter mile farther and they would be beneath the fort.
”Jamaica, at last.” Winston grinned and dipped a hand into the cool river.
Katherine gazed up at the Pa.s.sage Fort, now a sharp silhouette in the moonlight. It had turrets at each corner and a wide breastwork, from which a row of eighteen-pound culverin projected, hard fingers against the sky. ”I just pray our welcome celebration isn't too well attended.”
As they rowed slowly up the river, the first traces of dawn were beginning to show in the east. She realized their attack
would have to come quickly now. Even though the _vigia_ had been silenced, sentries would doubtless be posted around the fort. There still could be a b.l.o.o.d.y fight with small arms if they were spotted in time for the Spaniards to martial the militia inside. Let one sentry sound the alarm and all surprise would be lost.
”I think we'd best beach somewhere along here.” Bartholomew was sounding with an oar. The river was growing increasingly sandy and shallow. ”She's down to no more'n half a fathom.”
”Besides that, it's starting to get light now.” Winston nodded concurrence. ”Much farther and they might spy us. Signal the lads behind to put in.”
”Aye.” He turned and motioned with his oar. Quickly and silently the dugouts veered into the banks and the men began climbing over the sides. As they waded through the mud, each carrying a flintlock musket and a pike, they dragged the dugouts ash.o.r.e and into the brush.
”All right, masters.” Winston walked down the line as they began to form ranks. ”We want to try taking this place without alerting the whole island. If we can do that, then the Spaniards'll not have time to evacuate the town. Remember anything we take in either place will be divided according to the Articles drawn. Any man who doesn't share what he finds will be judged by the rest, and may G.o.d have mercy on him.” He turned and gazed up the hill. There was a single trail leading through the forest. ”So look lively, masters. Let's make quick work of this.”
As they headed up the incline, the men carefully holding their bandoliers to prevent rattling, they could clearly see the fort above the trees. Now lights began to flicker along the front of the breastwork, torches. Next, excited voices began to filter down, faint in the morning air.
Armando Vargas had moved alongside Winston, his eyes narrow beneath his helmet and his weathered face grim. He
listened a moment longer, then whispered, ”I fear something may have gone wrong, senor.”
”What are they saying?” Winston was checking the prime on his pistols.
”I think I hear orders to run out the cannon.” He paused to listen.
”Could they have spotted our masts over at the _cayo_? It is getting light now. Or perhaps an alert was sounded by the _vigia_ after all.”
He glared pointedly back toward Atiba. ”Perhaps it was not so secure as we were told.”
Behind them the seamen had begun readying their flintlocks. Though they appeared disorganized, they handled their muskets with practiced ease.
They were not raw recruits like Barbados' militia; these were fighting men with long experience.