Pirate Latitudes

HUNTER’S MIND WAS wholly occupied with other concerns. He raced back and forth, from bow to stern, ignoring both Lazue and Enders. The Spanish warship was closing with each passing minute; the upper edge of the mainsail was now clear of the horizon. She still carried full sail, while El Trinidad, now only a mile off the island, had dropped much of her canvas.

Meanwhile, the Cassandra had fallen behind the larger ship, dropping back to port to let Hunter’s vessel show them the course to harbor. The maneuver was necessary, but Hunter’s canvas was eating Cassandra ’s wind, and the little ship was not making good speed. Indeed, she would not until she was completely astern of El Trinidad. At that point, she would be very vulnerable to the Spanish warship unless she stayed close to Hunter.

The trouble would come when making the bay itself. The two ships would have to pass through in close succession; if El Trinidad did not make passage smoothly, the Cassandra might ram her, injuring both ships. If it happened in the passage itself, it could be a nightmare, both ships sinking on the rocks of the reef. He was sure Sanson was aware of the danger; he was equally sure that Sanson would know that he dared not drop too far back.

It was going to be a very tricky maneuver. He ran forward, and stared through the shimmering glare of the sunlit water at Monkey Bay. He could see now the curving finger of hilly land, extending out from the island and forming the protected hook of the bay.

The actual gap in the reef was invisible to him; it lay somewhere in the sheet of glaring, sparkling water directly ahead.

He looked up the mainmast to Lazue and saw her make a signal to Enders - she swung her fist upward to strike the flat palm of her hand.

Enders immediately barked orders to lower more sail. Hunter knew that could only mean one thing: they were very close to the reef passage. He squinted forward into the glare, but still could see nothing.

“Linemen! Starboard and larboard!” shouted Enders, and soon after, two men at either side of the bow began to alternate shouted soundings. The first unnerved Hunter. “Full five!”

Five fathoms - thirty feet - was already shallow water. El Trinidad drew three fathoms, so there was not much to spare. In shoal waters, coral undersea outcroppings could easily rise a dozen feet from the bottom in irregular patterns. And the sharp coral would tear the wooden hull like paper.

“Cinq et demi” came the next cry. That was better. Hunter waited.

“Full six and more!”

He breathed a little easier. They must have passed the outer reef - most islands had two, a shallow inner reef and a deeper one offshore. They would have a short space of safe water now, before they reached the dangerous inside reef.

“Moins six!” came the cry.

It was already growing more shallow. Hunter turned again to look at Lazue, high on the mainmast. Her body was leaning forward, relaxed, almost indifferent. He could not see her expression.

…

LAZUE’S BODY WAS indeed relaxed; it was so limp she was in danger of falling from her high post. Her arms gripped the top railing lightly as she leaned forward; her shoulders were slumped; every muscle sagged.

But her face was tight and pinched, her mouth pulled back into a fixed grimace, her teeth clamped together as she squinted into the glare. She held her eyes nearly shut and she had been doing this for so long that her lids fluttered with tension. This might have been distracting, but Lazue was not even aware of it for she had long ago slipped into a kind of trance state.

Her world consisted of two black shapes - the island ahead and the bow of the ship just beneath her. Separating them was a flat expanse of shimmering, excruciatingly bright sunlit water, which fluttered and sparkled in a hypnotic pattern. She could see almost no detail in that surface.

Occasionally, she had a glimpse of coral outcroppings awash. They appeared as brief black spots in the blinding white glare.

At other times, during lulls in the gusting wind, she had a momentary image of eddies and currents, which swirled the uniform pattern of sparkles.

Otherwise, the water was opaque, blinding silver. She guided the ship through this shimmering surface entirely by memory, for she had marked, in her mind, the position of shallow water, coral heads, and sand bars more than half an hour ago, when the ship was farther offshore and the water ahead was clear. She had made a detailed mental image using landmarks on the shore and in the water itself.