Sea Robber Read Free Page B

and, with the help of the two Danish sailors who preferred to stay on the aft deck, they were to hoist a jib or a staysail to trim the angle of the vessel to her mooring.
    ‘Where’s our petty officer?’ asked Jezreel.
    ‘He went below ten minutes ago,’ answered Dan.
    ‘Probably seeking his bottled comfort.’ The petty officer in charge of the watch, an elderly Dane by the name of Jens Iversen, was a notorious tippler. His clothes reeked of alcohol and tobacco.
    ‘Jacques will lose a day’s pay over this,’ observed Dan. Iversen was a very zealous employee of the Company. He would consider it worth reporting Jacques’ lateness to the Carlsborg ’s captain so that even the paltry sum of a deckhand’s daily wage could be trimmed from the vessel’s operating costs.
    Dan cocked his head on one side. He had heard something. ‘Sounds like the Revenge is lowering a boat. Maybe that’s Jacques on his way back now.’ He went to the starboard rail and leaned out so that he could see more easily down the length of the ship. The squeal of blocks came clearly over the water. A few moments later there were shouted orders, then several blasts on a whistle.
    ‘That’s odd,’ observed Hector. ‘It’s more like a ship getting under way. Dan, can you make out what’s happening?’
    A shift of wind caught the Carlsborg so that the Danish vessel swung on her cable, obscuring Dan’s view. He crossed the deck and looked aft again towards the Revenge . Now there was enough daylight to see considerable activity on the other ship. Men were aloft on her spars, others were climbing to join them, and a larger group of seamen was clustered on her main deck. They were bent over and moving slowly in a circle.
    ‘They’re raising anchor,’ Dan exclaimed.
    ‘Then where’s Jacques?’ Hector asked, a note of alarm in his voice.
    ‘Maybe they’re just shifting their anchorage,’ said Jezreel. He was also at the rail, eyes fixed on the smaller vessel.
    ‘They are setting too much sail for that.’
    As they watched, the Revenge ’s anchor emerged dripping from the water. The men on her yards unloosed the sails, the canvas flapped and filled.
    Hector was struck by how clumsily Cook and his crew handled their ship. There was a muddle on the foredeck. One corner of the lower forecourse had wrapped around itself, and the sail was being untwisted. Also the mizzen spar was canted at the wrong angle and needed to be lowered and rehoisted into position. Instead of forging ahead, the Revenge began to fall back, partially out of control and crabbing sideways through the water. It was all very unseamanlike and in sharp contrast to the skill shown by her launch crew when they’d come ashore through the surf the previous day.
    Hector was more and more agitated by Jacques’ absence. He feared the Frenchman might be below deck on the Revenge sleeping off a hangover, completely unaware the ship was getting under way. Or perhaps he’d decided to join the buccaneer crew? Cook had seemed keen to recruit him. But, Hector told himself, Jacques would never accept Cook’s offer without first consulting his friends. Besides, Jacques had left his favourite cooking utensils, his batterie de cuisine, aboard the Carlsborg . He would not leave the ship without taking his simmering pans and skimmers, the bake kettle in which he made excellent loaves, even at sea, and the splendid collection of spices he had acquired on his travels and jealously hoarded in a locked box, its interior neatly compartmented like an apothecary’s chest.
    ‘What a foul-up,’ said Jezreel, watching the disarray aboard the Revenge . ‘Can’t imagine how they think they can sail her through Magellan’s channel.’ Earlier Hector had told him of Cook’s proposed journey.
    Slowly the crew of the Revenge got their vessel under some degree of control. She began to move forward, and a ripple appeared under her bow. Hector watched the two masts swing into line, then open up again