The Saintly Buccaneer (39 page)

“I hope none of them drops his bag. If one of those sailors gets a look at the weapons and the uniforms those men have stored, it’d be all we need.” The men’s bags and chests did not contain farming tools as Winslow had told Captain Whitaker. They were stuffed with pistols, cutlasses, muskets, bayonets, dirks and a variety of other weapons. And Paul had insisted on the uniforms. “We’re not pirates but seamen of the Continental Navy, and when we take the ship, it’ll be in that uniform.” Adam had obtained the commission for the men, naming Paul as captain and Dan Greene as lieutenant.

“No fear,” Dan shrugged. He looked around quizzically. “I haven’t seen Paul all afternoon. Did you send him on some duty?”

“No—he had some personal business.”

Dan looked at him searchingly, but said only, “I’d better get aboard.” He put his thick hand out and smiled. “Thee is as good a man as Adam Winslow, Charles!”

Charles waved his hand in denial. “Oh, that’s not so, Daniel!” He smiled and added, “If I didn’t know you for a man without guile, I’d think you were trying to butter me up. I expected to have to listen to you asking for Anne’s hand in marriage. What’s holding you up?”

Dan’s broad face burned, and he answered quickly, “Oh, she’s too young for me, as I’ve told her, Charles.”

“You’re twenty-seven and she’s seventeen.”

“Well, it’s not that, really. I’m not a rich man, and she’s used to fine things.”

“That’s not it, either, is it now?” Charles took Greene’s arm firmly. “I used to dream of a rich man marrying Anne, but I’ve had some sense beaten into me lately, thank God. Now I want more than anything else for Anne to have a man who’s honest and good. And you’re the finest example I’ve found.”

Greene regarded Charles Winslow for a moment, then said huskily, “Thee is kind to say that—”

“It’s the girl’s religion, isn’t it, Dan?”

“Well, sir, it is.” Dan’s lips turned up in a rueful smile. “I’ve courted two women, and both of them have turned me down. I’ll be pretty slow to declare myself to any woman. Anne is a beautiful woman, and any man likes that—but the woman I marry will have to love God.”

“I honor you for that, my boy,” Charles replied seriously. “And it’s true that Anne has little religion. But that’s my fault. She has a warm and loving heart, and if I’d been wiser in my own ways before God, she’d be different.” He paused momentarily. “I think she’s in love with you—and it’s my notion that with a little help from you and other real Christians, Anne will find your God.”

Dan smiled at him, and remarked, “I think thee is hard on the track of God, Charles.”

“It’s the other way around, I think. I feel like God is on
my
trail—and I have the joyful sense that He’s about got me cornered!”

The night passed slowly, but Dan did not go to his bunk. There was too much to think about. He leaned on the rail of the ship and looked at the thin clouds sliding across the sky, masking the yellow moon.
I wonder what will come of this desperate venture,
he mused.

“Dan—” Charity interrupted his thoughts as she joined him on the deck. For a long time they stood there watching the stars and talking about unimportant matters. She was, he discerned, tense and restless. She was always an active girl, but the nervous movements of her hands and the abrupt starts and stops of her speech told him she was not herself.

About an hour after she joined him, they heard a hail from the port side, and Dan looked down to see a small boat making for the
Jupiter.
“It’s Paul,” he told her, turning back.

They waited until the boat was alongside and saw Paul leap over the rail. “Paul,” Dan called. “Over here.”

There was a hesitation in Paul that neither one missed. For a moment Charity thought he would turn away, but instead he came toward them. His eyes were shaded by the cap he wore, hiding any information they might glean. “You two still up?” was all he offered.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Dan stated.

“Everything go all right?”

“Fine.” Dan hesitated, then said, “I was worried about thee. If thee hadn’t made it back, the whole affair would probably fail.”

Both Dan and Charity were waiting for him to explain his errand, but he only replied, “Oh, there was no danger of that,” and turned to go. “I guess I’ll turn in. Whom am I bunking with, Dan?”

“With me and Enoch. I’ll show you.”

“All right.” His eyes fell on Charity. “It’s late. You must be tired.”

“I am, a little. Good night.”

She left without another word, and Dan led the way to the small section of the crew’s quarters where he and Paul strung their hammocks. Some of the
Jupiter
’s crew were already occupying the quarters, so there was no possibility for talk. Dan fell asleep thinking,
He is surely behaving in a strange way!

Paul lay awake for a long time, immobile in his hammock, thoughts running through his mind that left no mark on his face. He stared blindly at the deck overhead, oblivious to the watch sounding the calls that night.

In the morning the crew ate in shifts. There was no room for all the sailors to eat at once, not to mention the passengers, so in the days that followed, life consisted of shifting from one section of the ship to the other, eating and moving out of the small cabin so that others could come in and have their turn.

Usually some of the ship’s crew were close, so meetings between Dan and Paul and the other passengers had to be rare. Charity seemed to keep to herself, and Paul found himself missing her, but there was little opportunity for a meeting.

Day followed day, and everyone became more edgy with the strain of the situation. Finally Conrad growled, “If I have to talk about potatoes or beans one more time to fool these dolts, I’ll die.”

“Don’t you like vegetables, Conrad?” Paul asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Conrad drew himself up to his full height and answered solemnly, “I ate a pea once!” As everyone burst into laughter, he stalked off, offended at their rudeness.

The one completely happy person aboard was Thad Alden. He found Charity willing to talk to him more than she ever had. They spent time together in the bow of the ship, talking about the days back in Boston before the war. Charity should have known better, but she didn’t notice how her attention brought the lad into a state of blissful joy.

She was scarcely listening to him one day when he inquired,
“You figure a man like me could ever get married and have a family, Miss Charity?”

She was half asleep from the warmth of the tropic sun, and answered, “You, Thad? Why, a girl would be lucky to have a fine man like you for a husband.” She almost named Lucy Gambell, knowing that the girl, daughter of a local butcher, was wildly in love with Thad. But she didn’t, and she failed to see the flush that came to his face.

“Thank you, Charity.”

****

On Sunday the thirty-first, the group met for church on deck, the only place large enough. Dan preached, and the rest congregated around him. Charity felt someone squeeze in between her and Laurence. She looked up to see that it was Paul. He smiled at her, and asked, “Room for one more sinner?”

“Why, I think so.”

She sat there so disturbed that she was unable to concentrate on the sermon, but when she glanced at Paul, he was listening intently. After the service was over and they got to their feet, he said, “Come to the stern. I want to talk to you.”

She followed him, and by some miracle there was no one at the rail. He was silent at first, just gazing across the shattered water that the ship sent boiling in its wake. Finally he asked quietly, “Charity, are you angry with me?”

“Why—no.”

“You’ve not said ten words to me on this voyage.”

She bit her lip, shrugged, and replied evasively, “I ... I suppose I’m a little bit afraid.”

He searched her face, trying to read beneath that facade. “You’ve been so distant. I... I’ve missed you.”

She looked at him, startled, and fingered her bodice nervously. “I didn’t think you would.”

He saw that she was unhappy, so he hurried on. “Charity, we take the ship day after tomorrow.”

“Paul!”

“And I want you to promise me something.”

She smiled, the sadness leaving her. “I know. You want me to hide until it’s over.”

“That’s it. You see, I’m very fond of you, Charity. If anything happened to you, I’d—”

She waited for his next words, and prompted him. “You’d what, Paul?”

He searched for an answer, then turned his dark eyes on her. “I don’t know what it would be like—not having you.” He reached out and stroked the rail nervously. Suddenly he blurted out, “I don’t have much to think about, Charity. My memory’s coming back—but it’s very limited. I have a few items stored there—a few people. But if you were to be taken away, it would be like having the sun disappear!”

She dropped her head, feeling a mixture of joy and hope at his words. She heard the hissing of the water and the flapping of sails, but there was an ease in her heart, a diminishing of the weight she had felt since they had left New York.

“I’ll stay out of danger, Paul, if that’s what you want.”

“I thought I’d have to beat you again.” She looked through the darkness to see him smiling in the old way.

“I’ll be glad when it’s over. Keep yourself safe.”

“I will,” he promised as he turned and disappeared down the deck.

****

It had been decided to seize the ship just before dawn. That was when the majority of the crew were asleep. Paul met with Enoch, Dan, and Conrad at dusk. “We’ve been over this a dozen times, but remember, if we can get the marines disarmed, that’ll be the best we can hope for. I’ll take that detail—oh, and be certain the men wear their uniforms. Enoch, you take care of the watch, and Dan, you take the captain and the officers. All right?”

“It’ll be a piece of cake,” Conrad yawned.

Dan stared at him, shrugged, and said, “It ought to be.”

The night slipped by, and finally Paul whispered quietly, “All right—it’s time.”

He had tried to time the attack so that no one element of the crew would be able to unify against them. His was the hardest job, for the marines were tough, and he gripped his sword tightly in one hand and saw that the others had only cutlasses. Those taking the crew would have muskets, but the marines would have to be hit hard and swiftly.

He stopped the group of ten men that he had chosen, and murmured softly, “All right. They’re not expecting us. They’ll be asleep, so when—”

He gave a start, for a musket had gone off midships, and the explosion rocked the night air. Cursing the fool that had thrown them all in danger, he yelled, “Come on—they’ll be armed in a minute.”

It was too late, he saw, for the door of the marines’ cabin burst open, and the deck was filled with the figures of marines half dressed but carrying muskets and sabers. “Cut them down!” Paul screamed. A musket exploded almost in his face, and he heard a scream and a body hit the deck. He cut the marine down with one stroke of his blade, but was nearly skewered on a bayonet that he avoided only by twisting his body to the side in a violent movement. He was too close to use his sword, so he pulled the pistol from his belt and fired it straight into the staring face of the startled marine. The man fell at Paul’s feet.

As he cut down another marine who came at him with a wild swing of his saber, he heard the sounds of gunfire and yelling from forward and from below. The crew of the
Jupiter
came swarming up the ladders, and soon the deck was a bloody tangle of men, screaming and slashing at one other. The rising sun cast reddish beams on the deck, and Paul saw Dan and a small group besieged and fighting like madmen at the foot of the mizzenmast.

He lost track of time, and once he was knocked to the deck
by a blow of a musket barrel, and came to his feet blinded by the blood that ran into his eyes. He wiped his eyes free with his sleeve and yelled, “Come on—we’ve got them now!”

He had no idea if the men would follow, but as he went charging across the deck, he heard the pounding of feet behind him, and his group struck the knot of men that was about to annihilate Dan’s small team. It was knife, club, bayonet, and saber now—all the muskets and pistols had been fired.

The clash of steel was a ringing chorus that sounded over the screams of battle. Paul was all over the deck, lifting Conrad up where he’d fallen beneath the attack of a burly sailor, directing a counterattack at the stern where Middles and Lester were cutting their way through a wall of flesh. He saw Middles lift his sword, but a seaman with only a dirk leaped under it and cut Middles’ throat. For one terrible moment the man stood there, trying to yell, then fell to the deck grabbing his throat and died as Paul watched, helpless to aid the man.

Others went down, and as Paul raced across the deck, he saw Captain Whitaker with his first lieutenant driving his remaining men toward the center of the fray.
If I don’t break up that charge—we’re whipped!
Paul thought. He yelled at Dan, “Look! We’ve got to get those officers—then the crew will quit!”

The two of them hurdled side by side over the bodies of the dead and dying, and Whitaker looked up to meet them, his face livid with rage. He lifted his pistol and fired—and Dan went down on the deck. Paul lunged at the captain, who was trying to draw his sword—but it would not come free. The lieutenant leaped forward and caught Paul’s blade on his own sword, giving the captain time to draw. The two officers lunged at Paul, and he parried both flickering blades and took one step backward.

“Get him, Stevens! He’s the leader!”

They pressed him, and he kept his feet by a miracle, for the deck was slippery with blood. Both of the men were good
swordsmen, and they divided so that he could not keep his eye on them at the same time.

He knew it was a matter of time until he was caught, for they were playing him just right. One would lunge while the other waited; then when Paul’s blade was engaged, the other would strike. Three times they maneuvered him into position, and only by fighting like a madman did he escape.

Finally their lethal thrusts came as he knew they would. The lieutenant pulled his blade to the right, and he saw the captain to his left driving forward at his unprotected side! He expected to feel the steel driving through his body—but instead he heard a cry and someone fell against him.