heaved a deep breath, then took the muskets Katherine was carrying and
handed them to Mewes. "Katy, this is the last you're apt to see of
Barbados for a long while."
"Please, let's don't talk about it." She seized her wet skirts and
began to climb over the side, Winston steadying her with one hand. "I
suppose I somehow thought I could have everything. But I guess I've
learned differently."
He studied her in confusion for a moment, then turned and surveyed the
dark shore one last time. "All right, John, prepare to cast off."
"Aye." Mewes loosened the bow line from its mooring and tossed it into
the longboat. Together they shoved the bobbing craft and its passengers
deeper into the surf.
"What's your name?" Winston motioned the infantryman forward as he
lifted himself over the gunwales.
"MacEwen, Yor Worship." He took off his helmet and tossed it onto the
boards. His hair was sandy, his face Scottish.
"Then take an oar, MacEwen. And heave to."
"Aye, Sor." The Scotsman ignored Morris' withering glare and quickly
took his place.
"You can row too, Colonel." Winston waved the pistol. "Barbados is
still a democracy, for at least a few more hours."
Morris said nothing, merely grimaced and reached for an oar.
Katherine laid her cheek against Winston's shoulder and looked
wistfully back toward the shore. "Everything we made, the
Commonwealth's going to take away now. Everything my father and I, and
all the others, worked so hard for together."
He held her against him as they moved out through the surf and across
the narrow band of water to the ship. In what seemed only moments the
longboat edged beneath the quartergallery and the _Defiance_ was
hovering above them.
"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.
"God's blood!" He turned back to look. Dimly through the rain he could
make out a line of helmeted infantrymen along the shore, 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 damned 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 damn'd Roundheads along the
shore 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 shore.
"Aye, he's gone, Yor Worship. He's a quick one, to be sure." The
Scottish infantryman gave only a passing glance as he threw his weight
against the oar. "You'll na be catching him, on my faith."
"And what about you?"
"With Yor Worship's leave, I'd as soon be stay in' on with you." He
gave another powerful stroke with the oar. "Where'er you're bound, 'tis
all one to me."
"What were you before? A seaman?"
"A landsman, Yor Worship, I'll own it. I was took in the battle of
Dunbar and impressed into the Roundhead army, made to come out here to
the Caribbees. But I've had a bellyful of these Roundheads and their
stinking troop ships, I swear it. I kept my pigs better at home. I'd
serve you like you was the king himself if you'd give me leave."
"MacEwen, wasn't it?"
"Aye, Yor Worship. At your service."
"Then heave to." Winston pulled at the other oar. Through the dark they
could just make out the bobbing form, now neck deep in the surf. She
was supporting the black arms of yet another body.
"Senhora!" Winston called through the rain.
The white-clad figure turned and stared blankly toward them. She seemed
overcome with exhaustion, unsure even where she was.
"_Espere um momento_. We'll come to you." He was shouting now in
Portuguese.
A musket ball sang off the side of the longboat as several infantrymen
began advancing down the shore in their direction. The Scotsman
hunkered beside the gunwales but did not miss a stroke of his oar as
they neared the bobbing heads in the water.
"Here, senhora." Winston reached down and grasped the arms of the body
Serina was holding. It was Atiba. While Katherine caught hold of her
shoulders and pulled her over the gunwale, MacEwen helped Winston hoist
the Yoruba, unconscious, onto the planking. He was still bleeding, his
breath faint.
"He is almost dead, senhor. And they have killed Derin." Serina was
half choked from the surf. "At first I was afraid to try bringing him.
But then I thought of what would happen if they took him, and I knew I
had . . ." She began mumbling incoherently as she bent over the slumped
form of Atiba, her mouth against his, as though to urge breath back
into him.
"Katy, the minute we're on board take them straight down to the cabin
and see if you can get a little brandy into him. Maybe it'll do some
good."
"I'll try, but I fear it's too late already. Let's just get underway."
She turned to look at the deck of the _Defiance_, where a line of
seamen had appeared with muskets.