CHAPTER NINETEEN
As Winston and Katherine led their prisoners slowly down the shore, the Defiance stood out against the dark sky, illuminated by flashes of lightning as it tugged at its anchor cables. The sea was up now, and Winston watched as her prow dipped into the trough of each swell, as though offering a curtsy. They had almost reached the water when he spotted John Mewes, waiting by the longboat.
"Ahoy, Cap'n," he sang out through the gusts of rain. "What're you doin'? Impressing Roundheads to sail with us now? We've already got near to fifty of your damn'd indentures."
"Are they on board?"
"Aye, them and all the rest. You're the last." He studied Katherine and Morris in confusion. "Though I'd not expected you'd be in such fine company."
"Then we weigh anchor."
"In this squall?" Mewes' voice was incredulous. "We can't put on any canvas now. It'd be ripped off the yards."
"We've got to. The Roundheads are already moving on Bridgetown. We'll try and use those new short sails." Winston urged Morris forward with his pistol, then turned back to Mewes. "Any sign of that African we talked about?"
"I've seen naught of him, and that's a fact." He peered
up the beach, hoping one last cursory check would suffice. Now that the rain had intensified, it was no longer possible to see the hills beyond. "But I did manage to get that Spaniard from Ruyters, the one named Vargas." He laughed. "Though I finally had to convince the ol' King of the Butterboxes to see things our way by bringin' over a few of the boys and some muskets."
"Good. He's on board now?"
"Safe as can be. An' happy enough to leave that damn'd Dutchman, truth to tell. Claimed he was sick to death of the putrid smell of the Zeelander, now that she's been turned into a slaver."
"Then to hell with the African. We can't wait any longer."
"'Tis all to the good, if you want my thinkin'." Mewes reached up and adjusted Morris' helmet, then performed a mock salute. He watched in glee as the English commander's face flushed with rage. "You're not takin' these two damn'd Roundheads aboard, are you?"
"Damn you, sir." Morris ignored Mewes as he glared at Winston, then looked down at the pistol. He had seen a double-barrelled mechanism like this only once before—property of a Spanish diplomat in London, a dandy far more skilled dancing the bourree than managing a weapon. But such a device in the hands of an obvious marksman like Winston; nothing could be more deadly. "There's been quite enough . . ."
"Get in the longboat."
"I'll do no such thing." Morris drew back. "I have no intention of going with you, wherever it is you think you're headed."
"I said get in. If you like it here so much, you can swim back after we weigh anchor." Winston tossed his bundle across the gunwale, seized Morris by his doublet, and sent him sprawling after it. Then he turned to the infantryman. "You get in as well."
Without a word the man clambered over the side. Winston 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.