Cities of the Red Night

deck. The villagers watch from the pier.

Mrs. Norton sniffs and says in her penetrating voice, 'Good riddance to the lot of them.' She glances sideways at her husband.

'I share the same views,' he says hastily.

Boston: two years later. Mr. Blake has prospered. He works now on contracts from shipowners, and his guns are standard issue. He has remarried. His wife is a quiet refined girl from New York. Her family are well-to-do importers and merchants with political connections. Mr. Blake plans to open a New York branch, and there is talk of army and navy contracts. Noah Blake is studying navigation. He wants to be a ship's captain, and all five of the boys want to ship out.

'Wait till you find the right ship,' Mr. Blake tells them.

One winter day, Noah is walking on the waterfront with Bert, Clinch, Sean and Paco. They notice a ship called The Great White. Rather small by very clean and trim. A man leans over the rail. He has a beefy red smiling face and cold blue eyes.

'You boys looking for a ship?'

'Maybe,' says Noah cautiously.

'Well, come aboard.'

He meets them at the gangplank. 'I'm Mr. Thomas, First Mate.' He extends a hand like callused beef and shakes hands with each boy in turn. He leads the way to the master's cabin. 'This is Captain Jones—master of The Great White. These boys are looking for a ship ... maybe ...'

The boys nod politely. Captain Jones looks at them in silence. He is a man of indeterminate age with a gray-green pallor. He speaks at length, in a flat voice, his lips barely moving.

'Well, I could use five deckhands.... You boys had any experience?'

'Yes. On the Great Lakes.' Noah indicates Bert Hansen. 'His father owned fishing boats.'

'Aye,' says Captain Jones, 'freshwater sailing. The sea's another kettle of fish.'

'I've studied navigation,' Noah puts in.

'Have you now? And what would be your name, lad?'

'Noah Blake.'

An almost imperceptible glance passes between the Captain and the first mate.

'And your trade, lad?'

'Gunsmith.'

'Well, now, you wouldn't be Noah Blake's son would you?'

'Yes, sir, I would.'

Once again the glance flickers between the two men. Then Captain Jones leans back in his chair and looks at the boys with his dead, fishy eyes.

'We'll be sailing in three days' time ... New York, Charleston, Jamaica, Vera Cruz. Two months down, more or less, and two months back.... I pay ten pounds a month for deckhands.'

Noah Blake tries to look unimpressed. This is twice as much as any other captain has offered.

'Well, sir, I'll have to discuss it with my father.'

'To be sure, lad. You can sign the Articles tomorrow if you're so minded ... all five of you.'

Noah can hardly wait to tell his father. 'I mean that's good, isn't it?'

'Aye, son.