Jay cupped his hands, 'Slaver, sir. No cargo but for one. We've a deserter on board as well.'
Segrave saw the man bobbing and smiling wretchedly in the background as if Tyacke could see him. But he kept thinking of the black girl. Chained there like a wild animal for the slaver's pleasure. She had a lovely body, despite. Tyacke called over, 'Where bound?'
Jay held up the chart. ' Madagascar, sir.'
A seaman near Segrave murmured, 'We'll have to let 'er go.' He glared around the filthy deck. 'She hain't much but she'd fetch a few shillin's in the prize court! ' His mate nodded in agreement.
Tyacke's voice betrayed no emotion. 'Very well, Mr Jay. Return on board and bring the deserter with you.'
The man in question shouted, 'No! No! ' The boatswain cuffed him around the ear and sent him sprawling, but he crawled across the deck and clawed at Jay's shoes like a crippled beggar.
He shouted again, 'He took the chart below when you was sighted, sir! I seen him do it afore. He puts a different one for all to see.'
Jay kicked his hands away. 'Now, why didn't I think of that?' He touched Segrave's arm. 'Come with me.'
They returned to the cabin where the girl still lay propped on her elbows, as if she had not moved.
They searched through the litter of books and charts, discarded clothing and weapons, Jay becoming clumsier by the moment, well aware of Tyacke's impatience to get under way again.
Jay said desperately, ''S no use. I can't find it, an' that bugger don't speak English.' He sounded angry. 'I'll lay odds that the deserter is lyin' to save 'is own skin. He'll 'ave no skin left when I've done with 'im! '
There was a looking-glass leaning against a case of paired pistols. Jay picked it up and searched behind it as a last hope.
'Not a god-damned thing! ' He tossed the glass on the table and Segrave snatched it as it slithered towards the deck. As he did so he caught the merest glimpse of the girl behind him, now turned slightly to watch, her breasts shining in the filtered sunlight.
He exclaimed, 'She's lying on something, Mr Jay! '
Jay stared from him to her with stunned amazement. 'By the livin' Jesus! ' He sprang across the cabin and seized the girl's naked shoulder to push her across the bunk.
But her body, slippery with sweat, escaped his grasp, and she moved like lightning, a knife appearing in her left hand even as Segrave ran to Jay's assistance.
Jay went sprawling from the impetus of his charge across the cabin and as he pitched to the deck he saw Segrave fall over the girl, and heard his sharp cry of agony.
Segrave felt the blade like fire across his hip, somehow knew that she had raised the knife for another blow at his unprotected back.
There was a cracking sound and the knife went clattering to the deck. The girl lay back, her eyes closed, her mouth bleeding where Jay had punched her.
Another figure ran into the low cabin. It was the seaman named Dwyer.
Jay rasped, ''Ere, give Mr Segrave a hand! ' He rolled the girl's body aside and tugged a worn leather pouch from beneath her.
Segrave groaned and tried to move. Then he saw the slash in his breeches where the knife had gone in. There was blood everywhere, and the pain was making him gasp, bite his lip to prevent himself from screaming.
The sailor wrapped what appeared to be a shirt around the wound, but it was soon soaked through with blood.
Jay ripped open the big pouch, his eyes speedily scanning the contents before he opened the chart with trembling fingers.
Then he stood up. 'I must speak with the Cap'n.' He looked at Segrave's contorted face. 'You saved my rump, an' no mistake! ' He watched his agony and added kindly, 'Be easy till I come back.'
On deck the sky already seemed darker, the clouds underbellied with deep gold.
In quick sentences Jay shouted his information across the choppy division of water. 'She was bound for Cape Town! There's a despatch, wrote in French it looks.'
Tyacke called, 'How badly is Mr Segrave?' He saw Jay's shrug. 'Then you had better not move him! Send the vessel's master across with the pouch-the deserter too. I will rejoin the squadron. Are you confident that you can manage?'
Jay grinned and said to himself, 'Manage? They'll not make trouble now.'
The Albacora's master protested violently as a seaman seized his arm.
Jay snarled, 'Put those irons on him! Attempting to murder a King's officer, butchering slaves, to say nothing of trading with the enemy.' He nodded, satisfied as the man fell silent. 'Yes, my friend, you've understood the signal at last.'
As the boat cast off and headed for Miranda, Jay positioned his most trusted men with great care.
'We will get under way presently. Watch every move, even if they blinks! Shoot if in any doubt, see?'
With the boatswain, he returned to the cabin where Dwyer was holding the midshipman and trying to staunch the blood.
Dwyer said helplessly, 'Won't let me do it proper, sir! '
Sperry tore his eyes from the sprawled figure on the bunk and licked his lips.
'Now there's a thing, Bob.'
Jay was thinking of how close he had been to death. 'Later, George.'
Segrave was weaker but still tried to struggle as Sperry held him on the deck, while Dwyer and Jay began to cut away his bloodied breeches.
Sperry said huskily, 'I'll put a stitch or two in it. Just lay another dressin' on while I-'
Jay exclaimed, 'Who the bloody hell did that?'
The midshipman lay quietly now, like a sick or injured animal.
The whole of his buttocks and the backs of his thighs were scarred and bruised as if he had been beaten over and over again with a cord or a whip. Whoever had done this to him it was not in Miranda. That meant he had carried these scars for over six weeks, and without a word being said.
Jay thought of the jibes and grins, and all the while he. The boatswain said, 'He's passed out, Bob. I'll fetch me gear.'
'Yeh, an' see if you can find some rum or brandy-anythin'.'
He turned back to the midshipman, who lay as if he was dead. 'You poor little bugger,' he said softly. He watched the blood soaking through the makeshift bandages. But for Segrave's unexpected courage it would have been his own blood, and no second chance either.
He saw Dwyer watching him and said harshly, 'And it goes no further, see? This is Miranda's business, no one else's! I reckon 'e's suffered enough in this poxy squadron.'
Midshipman Segrave opened his eyes and was conscious of two things immediately. The sky overhead was dark and dotted with tiny stars; he was wrapped in blankets, a pillow beneath his head.
A shadow bent over him, and Jay asked, 'How is it?'
Then came the pain, throbbing in time with his heartbeats. He could taste brandy on his lips but could only remember the sequence of events like dark pictures. Hands holding him down; sharp stabbing pains; oblivion. Then the girl. He shook violently. That was it. When it had happened.
'Am I all right?' His voice sounded weak.
Jay forced a grin. ' 'Course you are. 'Ero of the hour. Saved my skin, an' gave us cause to 'old this ship.'
He looked across at two kneeling figures. Like some natives at prayer. But he knew they were trying to peer through the dirty skylight. Sperry was down there with the girl, doing what he probably did better than anything, if half his yarns were to be believed.
Then he asked, 'Tell me, lad, who did that to you?'
But Segrave shook his head, his eyes closed with the pain and the emotion.
Jay, the hard-bitten master's mate, had called him a hero.
4. Seek And Find
