Careening continued at first light on the other side of the hull. The carpenter was now able to give his full attention to the ruckled copper plating that marked their encounter with the coral.
'I shall not sleep peaceably until we are a-swim again, Mr Prewse,' Powlett muttered.
'I am sanguine that we shall be b' morning.'
'Then you'll oblige me by—'
Powlett stopped short at the sudden widening of Prewse's eyes. He swung round, alarmed. Around the point swept a native war-canoe, the savages rigid with surprise at the sight of
They'll be no more'n a thousan' of 'em down on us like screamin' banshees in a brace o' shakes,' the boatswain said drily. The canoe had taken in the scene of the helpless ship lying on her side, then made away with impressive speed.
Fairfax hurried over to Powlett's side. 'Sir, the Feejee is accounted an incorrigible cannibal,' he said, with a worried frown.
Powlett looked at him.
'They smokes the heads 'n' sticks 'em on a pole,' the boatswain added.
The gunner appeared and joined the group. 'Thirty-two long guns an' we can't use a one,' he said, his eyes squinting at the sandy point where the canoe had slipped out of sight.
'We've got one, maybe two days t' set the barky to rights — can't be done,' the boatswain said loudly. There was a general stir.
Powlett frowned: there was no glory in this kind of war. 'Set the boats a-swim, Mr Merrydew, and I desire a swivel in
the cutter.' The boats had been previously drawn up on the beach; now they would be streamed afloat, bows to sea and one with a small cannon. 'I want fifteen stand of muskets loaded and primed, larb'd watch stand to in two hours.' With a fierce look at his men he said, 'Rest o' you, back to work.'
It wasn't two, or even three hours, it was full evening when they came; suddenly around the point in a swarm, twenty-two impressive war-canoes and swelling numbers of tattooed warriors. The ruddy glare of torches in each canoe flamed dramatically in the dusky light, adding a devilish animation.
The sailors stood to arms immediately and lined the water's edge, knowing that if the savages established themselves ashore it would be a grave situation. His naked sword picking up the glow of the torches, Parry prowled in front of them, looking repeatedly to Powlett for the word.
'No man to fire without my express order!' Powlett thundered.
Ominously there was no noise from the canoes, no war-cries or yelling, just the silence of a murderous discipline. A conch shell sounded from the largest canoe, a low, powerful ululation that set the hairs on the back of the neck on end. The canoes slowly spread out in a wide semicircle, just out of musket range, clubs and spears plainly in sight.
'Here is y'r Noble Savage, then,' Kydd growled at Renzi, gripping his Sea Service musket and wondering how a cutlass would stand up to a spear or club after his single shot.
Renzi gave a half-smile. 'He is indeed. Can you not perceive his desperate need to defend his tiny, perfect kingdom against the rude impact of our advance?'
Snorting, Kydd replied, 'I c'n see 'em well enough — an' they think we're a poor vessel capsized an' cast up on the beach, which they think t' plunder.'
Lifting his head Renzi refused to be drawn. 'See how they remain out of range of the muskets. They have had dealings with 'civilisation' before.' He lowered his musket a little and mused, 'They very likely call it a 'fire-stick' or similar.'
There was a vigorous discussion in the largest canoe, which contained a very fat individual sitting in a chair. He wore a high, colourful headdress. A smaller canoe came alongside, the occupants stepped out, and a more slightiy built warrior climbed in followed by three others. Then it whirled about and paddled swiftly inshore.
'It's a parlay, Mr Parry,' said Powlett to the restless officer, 'and I want to win time for the savants and their damn observations.' The canoe headed for the centre of the beach, where the sailors reluctantly fell back. Powlett moved forward and waited, arms folded.
The canoe grounded with a hiss, and the warriors held the craft steady as the slightly built man stepped into the shallows. He wore just one garment, a sort of skirt falling a little below the knees, and had on a minor headdress. His slight build contrasted with the burly warriors taking up position on each side and he carried no weapons. The threesome paused at the edge of the water. A petty officer with a lanthorn appeared behind Powlett. The light appeared soft and gold compared with the red glare of the torches.
Slowly, the natives moved up the beach. Suddenly the slighter man hurled himself forward in a run. The two flanking him were caught off-guard. Raising their jagged bone clubs they sprang forward. Flinging himself at Powlett, the man choked something out unintelligibly. Powlett snarled, 'Present!' and all along the beach muskets brisded as they took aim at the warriors. They stopped in their tracks, milling about sullenly, and calling out in hoarse, angry phrases.
The sound of the man's tearing sobs sounded distressingly loud. He was curled into a foetal crouch at Powlett's feet, his body heaving. Horrified, Fairfax moved forward and pulled him to his knees. 'It's a — a white man!' he said, and let him drop.
Powlett did not bend. 'Can you speak English?' he snapped.
The man pulled himself together, lifting his head and looking from one face to another. He staggered to his feet, still staring at the silent faces. He reached out to touch Powlett's threadbare sea uniform. 'I can that, sir,' he said, his voice muffled. At Powlett's interrogative expression he straightened and cleared his throat. 'My deepest apologies, sir, for m' display,' he continued, his voice strengthening, 'but it's been four goddamn years since I clapped eyes on one o' my own kind.' The American accent was stilted, awkward.
'You are shipwrecked and now
The man glanced back at the warriors menacing him from afar with their clubs. He edged up the beach, further into the protection of the armed sailors, and continued, 'Nathaniel Gurney, mate o' the
