Pirate Latitudes

The seaman shrieked hideously as the rats leapt to his face. He shook his head, the four furry bodies clinging to the flesh of his cheeks and scalp and chin. The rats chattered and squeaked; one was flung off but instantly scrambled back across the man’s heaving chest and bit into the neck. The seaman screamed over and over in terror, a monotonous, repeated sound. Finally, the man collapsed from shock, and lay unmoving while the rats, chattering, continued to feed on his face.

Cazalla stood. “Why do you all think me so stupid?” he said. “Englishman, I swear. I will have the truth of your voyage.”

He turned to the guards. “Take him below.”

Hunter was hustled off the deck. As he was pushed down the narrow stairway, he had a brief glimpse over the rail of the Cassandra, lying at anchor some yards away from the warship.

Chapter 18

THE SLOOP CASSANDRA was essentially an open boat, with a single main deck exposed to the elements, and small storage lockers located fore and aft. These had been searched by the soldiers and the prize crew, when the ship was taken during the afternoon. The crew had found all the provisions and special fittings that Cazalla considered so perplexing.

Soldiers swarming over the boat had searched it with great thoroughness. They had even peeked through the fore and aft hatches, which opened down into the keelson; with lanterns, they saw bilge water rising almost to the decking itself, and they made sarcastic comments about the laziness of the pirates in emptying the bilge.

When the Cassandra made for the protected cove, and hove to in the shadow of the warship, its prize crew of ten spent several hours drinking and laughing by torchlight. When they finally slept in the early hours of the morning, lying on the deck on blankets in the warm night air, their sleep was heavy with rum. Although they had been ordered to post a watch, they did not bother to do so; the nearby warship offered protection enough.

Thus, no member of the crew, lying on the deck, was aware of a soft gurgle from the bilge compartment and no one saw a man with a reed in his mouth rise out of the oily, stinking water.

Sanson, shivering with cold, had lain for hours with his head alongside the oilskin sac, which contained the precious grenadoes. Neither he nor the sac had been noticed. Now, he was just able to lift his chin above the level of the bilge water before he struck the top of his head on the decking. He was surrounded by darkness, with no sense of orientation. Using his hands and feet, he pressed his back down against the hull, feeling its curved shape. He decided he was on the port side of the ship, and moved slowly, quietly, toward the centerline. Then, with exquisite slowness, he eased himself aft, until his head softly bumped the rectangular indentation of the aft hatch. Looking up, he saw slats of lights from the grating of the hatch. Stars above. No sounds, except a snoring seaman.

He took a breath, and raised his head. The hatch moved up a few inches. He could see the deck. He was staring directly into the face of a sleeping seaman, not more than a foot away. The man snored loudly.

Sanson lowered the hatch again, and moved forward through the bilge compartment. It took him nearly a quarter of an hour, lying on his back, pushing along with his hands, to traverse the fifty feet between the aft and fore hatches of the Cassandra. He raised the new hatch cover, and looked around again. There was no sleeping seaman within ten feet.

Gently, slowly, Sanson removed the hatch cover, and set it on the deck. He lifted himself out of the water, and stood breathing the fresh night air. His drenched body was chilled by the breeze, but he paid no attention. All of his mind was focused on the sleeping prize crew on deck.

Sanson counted ten men. That would be about right, he thought. In a pinch, three men could sail the Cassandra; five could handle her comfortably; ten men would be more than ample.

He surveyed the positions of the men on the deck, trying to decide in which order to kill them. It was easy to kill a man quietly, but to kill one in absolute silence was not so simple. Of the ten men, the first four or five were most crucial, for if any of them made a noise, they would raise a general alarm.

Sanson removed the thin cord that served as his belt. He twisted the rope in his hands and tugged it taut between his fists. Satisfied with its strength, he picked up a belaying pin of carved hardwood, and moved forward.

The first soldier was not snoring. Sanson raised the man to sitting position and he grumbled sleepily at the interruption for a moment before Sanson brought the pin crashing down on his head. The blow was fierce, but made only a dull thud as it contacted the scalp. Sanson eased the seaman back to the deck.