The Gun Ketch (24 page)

"Best do what all the good captains do, then, sir," Gatacre chuckled as they walked forward to go on deck. "Plaster a confident grin on yer phiz an' dare anybody to gainsay ya!"

Of course, nothing went that easily. There were signs of recent human habitation on Big Ambergris, much like the abandoned camp on West Caicos. Their suppositions the pirates were still around were fulfilled, but just where they had gone remained a mystery.

For another week,
Alacrity
and
Aemilia
prowled in company, back up Turks Passage toward Drum Point on East Caicos, along the spectacular coral reefs by Lorimers Point and Joe Grant's Cay, which sheltered the mouth of the Windward-Going-Through channel between East and Middle Caicos Islands. The bluffs were high enough behind the reefs to provide excellent watch-posts. When they went ashore in luggers and ship's boats they found sources of water. There were deeps very close inshore where looted ships could be scuttled to avoid detection. But no pirate band.

Lewrie was getting extremely frustrated. It was not the sneer on Lieutenant Coltrop's face which upset him, though that irked him every time he had reason to talk with him. He realized he had made the pirates, and their destruction, a personal quest. There was Commodore Garvey to please, to impress with what he could accomplish. And capturing or destroying these buccaneers would be a way to expunge the chagrin he felt about his bargain with the American Captain Grant, turning a blind eye to his violation of the Navigation Acts. And, in that first flush of exultation he'd shown to his crew after sinking those luggers, he'd overstepped himself and promised they would get the rest. Now, if he did not, he felt the men would lose confidence in his abilities, and his captaincy of
Alacrity
would become a drudgery instead of a delight.

Being someone else's junior officer felt
so
damned good, Alan told himself in the echoing privacy of his cabins aft. Without Caroline aboard, he was severely limited now in whom he could confide. Oh, he could dine in bags of people and share jests with them as the most genial of hosts. But it wasn't the same as being able to unburden his cares and worries on someone else.

But then, that's why they pay me five grand shillings a day!

"Sir!" Lieutenant Ballard said, coming to Alan's seat on the taffrail signal-flag lockers.
"Aemilia
has put about and is bearing down on us."

Lewrie rose and made his way forward. It had just gone five bells of the second dog-watch, Evening Quarters had been stood, and the hands had eaten and were now entertaining themselves in the cool afterglow of sunset. Mr. Midshipman Shipley and his mostly hapless colleague, Mr. Midshipman Joyce, were doinghornpipes in the waist for the amusement of the people forrud, part of the larboard watch's price as losers at drills that afternoon.

"Was he not to peek into Highas Cay and Bottle Creek, sir?" Ballard inquired. "Perhaps he's seen something at last."

Lewrie snapped a quick look at Ballard to see if his "at last" was a subtle condemnation, but Ballard had a telescope to his eye and was intent upon the ghostly shape of
Aemilia
as she sailed back east to join them.

"He was, Mister Ballard. As you say, perhaps this hopeless search of ours will be rewarded... at last," Lewrie could not help rejoining.

"They're somewhere out here still, sir," Ballard said quickly. "I know you're correct about that. It's just the 'where,' or how long they might remain if they fear a new, more active warship is stationed in the Turks and Caicos. I'd hate for them to run before we nab 'em."

"Thankee, Mister Ballard," Lewrie relented with a shy grin. "I was beginning to fear I was the only one who wished to continue this chasing of wild geese. Chasing shadows, more like."

"Most deadly shadows, sir," Ballard intoned with a sober nod, but with a quirky little grin of his own. "Should Lieutenant Col-trop be the bearer of glad tidings, do you wish the taffrail lanterns lit, sir? Or should we proceed darkened?"

"There's a ninety-foot-tall bluff at the extreme west end of Middle Caicos, just by Highas Cay," Lewrie pondered. "Do not give a possible watcher anything to bite on. And alter course to seaward. If
Aemilia
has news for us, he'll come to us out there. I only wish there was a way to signal him without a fuzee to stay dark, himself."

"Here, sir!" Coltrop jabbed exultantly at the chart. "Just under the headland overlooking Highas Cay and the narrow channel between Middle and North Caicos. There were cook fires! I saw the smoke, sir!"

"Did you stand close inshore?" Lewrie asked, unable to hide his mounting excitement. "Did you see a camp?"

"Didn't want to blow the gaff, sir," Coltrop laughed, for once almost pleasant to be around. "I stood north for a time, as if to go to seaward of North Caicos, then doubled back. But as far as I know, there should be no one there. A few farms so far on North Caicos, a fish camp or two... but none on Middle Caicos yet."

"What do they call this area, Mister Gatacre?" Lewrie asked.

"Conch Bar, sir," Gatacre replied. "There's rumoured to be some caves there that Indians used in Columbus' time. 'Tis a barren place now, though."

"Watered, though," Fellows insisted. "And where you find water, you'll find our pirates. Look, sir, it's perfect! Bluffs to spy from, just as we deduced. Deep water, about an hundred fathoms, close up to the reefs and shoals. An inlet between Highas Cay and Conch Bar Bluff where ships may moor. An escape run down this salt-creek between North and Middle islands to the Banks. And their main camp would most likely be about a mile in from the shoal-water line, out of range of random shot."

"Depth, though, Mister Fellows," Lewrie implored.

"Unsurveyed, sir," Fellows had to admit, deflating. "A fathom, maybe less, once inside Highas Cay."

"And it may be a fish camp, after all," Lewrie fretted out loud. "But, then again ... we must examine it If their main camp is inland, about a mile or better, that would put them ... here ... down by this last point, opposite the second islet past Highas Cay. They see us coming, they run through this passage for the Banks where we cannot follow. To prevent that, we must use all the ship's boats and our surveying luggers, and land a party between them and the escape route. Cross the shoals above Bottle Creek, wend our way under the shoreline into that channel, to... here. At dawn,
Alacrity
must be just without the shoals to cover Highas Cay and deliver unaimed fire on this inner point as a diversion. And to flush them out, if they get the wind up. Mister Coltrop, I want
Aemilia
inshore even further. Make the best of your way across the shoals with your seven-foot draught nor'west of the inner point of land, to block any possible escape up Bottle Creek and out to sea off North Caicos. And scour the beach under the bluffs with your four-pounders."

"Good God, sir, I'll rip her bottom out, sure!" Coltrop gasped.

"Close as you may, without holing yourself. Make a demonstration. Frighten them into running straight at me," Lewrie decided.

"You, sir?" Fellows goggled. "Sir, it's... well, it's been the traditional thing for the first officer to..."

"It's the riskiest part of our venture," Lewrie countered. "If they're not pirates, I wish to be the one nearest on the scene to call it off. And if they are, I've more experience with landfighting."

"Should we not keep an eye on them for now, sir?" Coltrop asked. "Send for troops from Fort George Cay? Surely, it's their..."

"If they are pirates, Mister Coltrop, they saw you, sure as I'mstanding here, and they're considering whether they should stay or run. We cannot take the time to send for troops and let them escape. I'll begrudge not a single wasted hour ... not a single wasted minute!"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Sir, it's my place of honour!" Ballard protested as the boats were led around to the entry ports, as the armourer's files and stone rasped to put brutally sharp edges on steel blades and points. "How else are lieutenants to rise, if they go in their captain's shadow?"

"With the shore party away,
Alacrity'll
be short-handed, Mister Ballard. I need you aboard to run her as Bristol-fashion as a 1st Rate," Lewrie smiled. "And keep her off those shoals."

"Once one makes captain, sir, it's time to let a younger man be one's goat," Ballard rejoined, not backing down an inch. "Let the junior officers make a name for themselves, or a muck of it. Is it that you see me making a muck of it, sir?"

"I have the utmost confidence in
you,
Mister Ballard," Lewrie , said. " 'Tis Coltrop I don't put faith in. I scare him. You don't. And if I have to
tow
his damned cutter inshore to get him in place, I'll do it. I'll scout him an anchorage for dawn during the night. And then be there to give him strict orders to take that anchorage or suffer the consequences. You have a copy of my orders to him in yours. If he fails ... should I fall and this expedition fails, you must see to it that he pays the price for not supporting me. I'd rather be the one to risk my life on such a slender thread as that idle fop, than risk yours ... Arthur."

"I see... I think, sir," Ballard surrendered at last.

"Growl you may, but go you must," Lewrie laughed, clapping him on the shoulder in parting. "Old Navy proverb. Might be the Thirty-Seventh Article of War, hey, right after 'The Captain's Cloak'?"

There were only thirty-six Articles of War; the last gave a blanket power to a captain's lone decision for anything not covered by the specifics of the other thirty-five—the Captain's Cloak.

"The very best of fortune go with you, sir," Ballard said.

"And enjoy your temporary command, sir."

It was slow going, rowing or poling in the darkness. First to run through the boisterous shoals two miles above Highas Cay, safely hidden by the night. Then to grope about close under the foreshore of the low islet that screened Bottle Creek from the sea. Inshore, the Caicos were rife with mosquitoes and biting flies, and once out of the Trades and into the marshy-smelling mangroves along the beach, they were almost eaten alive.

Aemilia
followed, sounding her way through a two-fathom pass. She threaded her way into Bottle Creek, behind that inner, second isle to screen her from view, and Alan found an anchorage for her, sounding with a short lead line and counting the marks in it by feel, until he had her a spot where the bottom was ten feet, or would be at high tide. The cutter's light four-pounders would not make much real impression on the pirate camp from that range, but it might put the fear of God in them.

Then they completed their voyage, snaking out of Bottle Creek south along the shore of North Caicos, staying to the western side of the possible escape channel to avoid detection, and went a mile below the suspected position before turning to cross the narrow strait.

"I kin smell 'em, sir," Cony said, his poacher's senses alert. "Wood smoke. An' cookin'. Goat, more'n like. Mayhap fish stew on the boil, too, sir. Right savory, iff n ya don't mind my sayin'."

"There, sir!" one of the hands poling up forrud whispered. "I think I see fires. Like they wuz usin' one o' them caves t'cook in."

Once on the eastern shore, they poled back north in water just a bit deeper than their shallow-draught keels, about four feet, until the coast bent back nor'west past the mouth of a tiny inlet.

Half a mile, little more to go, Lewrie decided. And hard sand all the way to the point. We're on foot the rest of the way."Put into the inlet, men," Lewrie ordered in a harsh mutter. "Leave the boats. No one is to show a light, no one is to load his musket or pistol until I return and tell you to. Not a sound, now. Mister Parham, Mister Mayhew. You and the bosun's mate are in charge until Cony and I return."

Taking only edged weapons, Lewrie and Cony set out up the hard sand of the beach for a ways, then moved into the deeper, softer sand above the tideline toward the sheltering sea grapes and stunted low bushes. A ledge of rock began to rise at their right hand as they progressed, and climbed higher and higher in irregular slabs as they neared the suspect camp. Soon, they were creeping along its base for concealment as it rose above their heads.

"This'll climb all the way to the sea bluffs," Lewrie muttered. "I don't think there's a way up it."

"Too crumbly, sir," Cony agreed in a whisper. "Limestone an' ole coral. Cut ya t'ribbons iff n ya tried it in the dark, it would."

"Listen!" Lewrie cautioned, kneeling down lower.

There were sounds of shouting, of laughter. And of music that came to them under the rush of the night winds and the continual sound of foliage stirring. And then there was a womanly scream.

"Wimmen!" Cony hissed close to Lewrie's ear. "Might be a party they's 'avin'. Might they be fishermen after all, sir?"

Lewrie laid a finger to his lips and took a deep breath to make his limbs obey him. He half stood, and placed one tentative foot in front of the other, his grasp sweaty on the hilt of his hanger. With tremulous caution, they gained another long musket-shot, about sixty yards, to an outthrust of rocky ledge. To go around it would mean exposing themselves to the camp. They found a narrow crevice that took them up top, then crawled on their bellies through sharp-edged grasses and coarse bushes until they could see.

It wasn't a fish camp, Lewrie thought, feeling a flush of relief fill him. There were the two luggers that had escaped him, along with another pair, larger and two-masted, anchored very close inshore to the beach. And on the beach below him were a brace of longboats with their bows jammed snug on the land. The longboats were royal barges compared to the scrofulous condition of the luggers, obviously taken from some earlier prize of theirs; perhaps from two different prizes, since their paint-schemes did not match.