approaching up the rise. He recognized the ragged outline of Johan
Ruyters, still in the clothes he had worn earlier that night, puffing
up the hill.
Ruyters topped the rise and surveyed the confusion. His presence seemed
to immediately dampen the melee, as several Assemblymen paused in
embarrassment to stare. The Dutchman walked directly up to Dalby
Bedford and tipped his wide-brimmed hat. "Your servant, sir." Then he
gazed around. "Your most obedient servant, gentlemen, one and all." He
nodded to the crowd before turning back to address Bedford. "Though
it's never been my practice to intrude in your solemn English
convocations, I thought it would be well for you to hear what I just
learned." He drew a deep breath and settled his lantern onto the grass.
"The _Kostverloren_, bound from Amsterdam, has just dropped anchor in
the bay, and Captain Liebergen called us all together in a rare sweat.
He says when dark caught him last evening he was no more than three
leagues ahead of an English fleet."
"Great God help us." Walrond sucked in his breath.
"Aye, that was my thinking as well." Ruyters glanced back. "If I had to
guess, I'd say your English Parliament's sent the navy, gentlemen. So
we may all have to be giving God a hand if we're not to have the harbor
taken by daylight. For once a rumor's proved all too true."
"God's life, how many were sailing?" Bedford whirled to squint toward
the dim horizon.
"His maintopman thinks he may've counted some fifteen sail. Half of
them looked to be merchantmen, but the rest were clearly men-of-war,
maybe thirty guns apiece. We're all readying to weigh anchor and hoist
sail at first light, but it's apt to be too late now. I'd say with the
guns they've got, and the canvas, they'll have the harbor in a bottle
by daybreak."
"I don't believe you." Walrond gazed skeptically toward the east.
"As you will, sir." Ruyters smiled. "But if you'd be pleased to send a
man up to the top of the hill, right over there, I'd wager he just
might be able to spy their tops'ls for himself."
Winston felt the life suddenly flow out of him. It was the end of his
plans. With the harbor blockaded, he'd never be able to sail with the
indentures. He might never sail at all.
"God Almighty, you don't have to send anybody." Bedford was pointing
toward the horizon. "Don't you see it?"
Just beneath the gray cloudbank was an unmistakable string of
flickering pinpoints, mast lights. The crowd gathered to stare in
dismay. Finally Bedford's voice came, hard and determined. "We've got
to meet them. The question is, what're their damned intentions?"
Ruyters picked up his lantern and extinguished it. "By my thinking the
first thing you'd best do is man those guns down there on the Point,
and then make your enquiries. You can't let them into the bay. We've
got shipping there, sir. And a fortune in cargo. There'll be hell to
pay, I promise you, if I lose so much as a florin in goods."
Bedford gazed down the hill, toward the gun emplacements at the ocean
cliff. "Aye, but we don't yet know why the fleet's come. We've only had
rumors."
"At least one of those rumors was based on fact, sir." Briggs had moved
beside them. "I have it on authority, from my broker in London, that an
Act was reported from the Council of State four weeks past to embargo
our shipping till the Assembly votes recognition of the Commonwealth.
He even sent me a copy. And this fleet was already being pulled
together at the time. I don't know how many men-o'-war they've sent,
but I heard the flagship was to be the _Rainbowe_. Fifty guns." He
looked back at the Assembly. "And the surest way to put an end to our
prosperity now would be to resist."
He was rudely shouted down by several Assemblymen, royalists cursing
the Commonwealth. The air came alive with calls for defiance.
"Well, we're going to find out what they're about before we do
anything, one way or the other." Bedford looked around him. "We've got
guns down there in the breastwork. I'd say we can at least keep them
out of the bay for now."
"Not without gunners, you won't." Ruyters' voice was somber. "Who've
you got here? Show me a man who's ever handled a linstock, and I'll
give you leave to hang me. And I'll not be lending you my lads, though
I'd dearly love to. It'd be a clear act of war."
Winston was staring down at the shore, toward his own waiting seamen.
If the English navy entered Carlisle Bay, the first vessel they'd
confiscate would be the _Defiance_.
"God help me." He paused a moment longer, then walked to the edge of
the hill and drew a pistol. The shot echoed through the morning
silence.
The report brought a chorus of yells from the shore. Suddenly a band of
seamen were charging up the hill, muskets at the ready, led by John
Mewes. Winston waited till they topped the rise, then he gestured them
forward. "All gunnery mates report to duty at the breastwork down there
at the Point, on the double." He pointed toward the row of rusty cannon
overlooking the bay. "Master Gunner Tom Canninge's in charge."
Several of the men gave a loose salute and turned to hurry down the
hill. Winston watched them go, then looked back at Bedford. "How much
powder do you have?"
"Powder? I'm not sure anybody knows. We'll have to check the magazine
over there." Bedford gestured toward a low building situated well
behind the breastwork, surrounded by its own stone fortification. "I'd
say there's likely a dozen barrels or so."