Sackett's Land

that.

            I shook my head, and pain shot through me. No matter. I would have to be ready. I had no wish to die, to let such a scoundrel win.

            What had they said of Bardle? That if he was shorthanded he would grab some country lad? Well, he had me. I doubted he would kill me when there was work to be had from me. And I was strong. In the quarries they had said I was strong as any two men. Yet I knew I was even stronger.

            No matter what happened, I must get them to keep me alive and working. Then I could watch my chance. Nick Bardle would be no fool; he would know most of the dodges. Best not to fight unless they tried to kill me, not resist, not argue. Hold myself tight, and wait.

            Again I slept, and when I opened my eyes it was to the deeper roll of the open sea. Scarcely had they opened when the hatch covers were lifted and a head thrust over the combing. 'All right! Up with you! There's work to be done!'

            I jumped up, caught the edge of the hatch and swung to the deck.

            The mate drew back. He was a stocky, redheaded, red-faced man with a deep scar over his right eye. His small blue eyes were hard and mean. He was expecting trouble, and he had two stalwart men behind him ... tough men by the looks of them.

            'A ship!' I said. 'Well, cursed I am if I am not on a ship! This is what I'd hoped for, to find a ship and get to sea!'

            They were surprised. They stared. They had expected anger, protests, shouts, and trouble. Here I was, grinning at them.

            'Will you show me how to be a sailor? All my life, I've wanted to go to sea!'

            'We'll show you, all right!' The mate hadn't decided whether to be pleased or disappointed. 'Get for'rd!'

            Quickly, I obeyed, and when the hands turned to hoist the fores'l, I was in a hurry to help.

            The hatch lay open, and I was scared. What if they examined my goods? But they did not. After awhile, the hatch was battened again.

            It went against my grain to take the pushing I took, and no Sackett I ever heard of had stood for such action. Yet when I looked about me at the rest of the crew, I could see they were a bad lot, and no help would I get from them.

            Anyway, that would be mutiny. Only it had to be mutiny, or something like it.

            Now I made like I knew nothing about a ship, but I did. We in the fens often sailed out to sea. Wanting to make them feel they'd like to keep me alive, I buckled to and worked hard enough for two men.

            By the third day I heard the mate, whose name was Berryman, tell Cap'n Bardle. 'Don't you be hasty, Cap'n. That Sackett is worth two of any man aboard. He's got to be soft in the head, all he talks about is how he always wanted to be a sailorman. But he works like the devil and he's handy.'

            Bardle watched me then, whenever he was on deck. Several times he and Berryman talked, and one time Berryman asked, 'You was a farmer ashore?'

            'In the fens. We used boats a lot.'

            That seemed to satisfy them for awhile, but finally Berryman came to me again. 'How'd a farmer like you get enemies?'

            Now I had my chance, and I took it. I wanted them to have reason to keep me alive. 'There's some that wanted me dead,' I agreed, 'but there's others who'd pay twice as much to keep me alive.'

            Nick Bardle had all he was likely to get from Rupert Genester, but here was another thought: there might be more to be made.

            'That don't foller,' Berryman commented, after a moment or two. 'Who'd want you alive?'

            'Now think.' I said, 'if a man will pay to have me dead, it's because he stands to profit by it. Just as he will profit if I die, there's others will lose, and those others want me alive.

            'The man who wants me dead hasn't much. In fact, if I get back alive, he hasn't anything.'

            For two weeks then, all went well. I worked hard. They avoided me, but they made no effort to push me into dangerous jobs. Yet I trusted none of them. They were thieves and murderers, and I knew my time was short. They would mull it over, and they would decide if I had to die. There was too much chance of what I'd do to them if I somehow got back to England.

            The weather held good. I kept an eye out for a distant sail, expecting Captain Tempany to be coming along soon, but I doubted he would want to overhaul the Jolly Jack. She had twelve guns that were heavier than those I'd seen on the Tiger. Moreover, the Jack clearly had a crew of pirates, or the next thing to them.

            Then we came upon a spell of bad weather, with the wind set contrary, and made a bad time of it, day after day. Tempers grew short, and as best I could, I kept from the gaze of Berryman or Bardle, knowing I was the likely scapegoat. We sighted a sail once, then, on the fifth day of bad weather. But it was some distance off and where it sailed there was wind, as we could see the sails filled and the wind ruffling the water.

            There was a man aboard to whom I found some liking—a brawny young man, strong yet not tall, a man of dark skin, yet not a Negro. He was a Moor, he told me, but I knew aught of Moors. He said a Moor was a man of Arab blood born in Africa, in the north of Africa where there were few blacks except slaves ... and as many white slaves as black. His name was Sakim.

            He was a good man at sea, and an able one. He had watched me from time to time but had said nothing until on this fifth day when we watched the far-off sail, he spoke softly, 'No matter who she is, I'd prefer it to this.'

            'And I,' I replied, with candor.

            After a moment I said, 'Are there others who feel so?'

            'There's one,' he said, 'the Neapolitan, Rufisco.'

            He, too, had I seen: a small, agile man who reminded me of Corvino. It was something in their movements, their manner.

            'Something might be done,' I said, 'if you've a mind to chance it.'

            'At sea?' he stared at me doubtfully.

            'Near the shore.' I said. 'There's a coast off the mainland yonder.'

            'And savages?' he suggested.

            'Better a risk of what we do not know than what we know. They do not intend me to return,' I added. 'I have nothing to lose. But you?'

            'Nothing,' he said. 'I will speak to Rufisco.'

            There was hard work then, trimming sail with a squall coming up, and the wind ruffling the water in our direction. Our craft heeled far over under the blast, righted and put her bows down and went to it. She was a good sailer, that Jolly Jack, and belied her owners.

            Nothing had come of my words with Sakim, but at least he seemed to keep them quiet.

            We finally caught a decent wind and turned to the southwest with occasional squalls of rain but always some wind. And then, on the sixty-seventh day out, we sighted land again. It was far off, and not to be made out, but Bardle simply gave our craft a little more southing and ignored the land.

            In the middle of the night watch, the Moor came close. 'Rufisco will chance it ashore.'

            'The first time then. There may not be another.'

            'They will kill us,' he said.

            'My friend,' I said quietly, 'this rascal owes me, and when we go ashore, I'll have what belongs to me and whatever the passage was worth. Some damages, too.'

            'I like a confident man,' Sakim said dryly. 'Especially if he lives.'

            'I shall,' I said. 'At least to get a foot on shore.'

            Berryman hove up alongside. 'Belay that!' he growled. 'We have no time for gamming here. Be about your work.'

            'Aye,' I said agreeably. 'There's a bit to do.'

            Our watch ended and I went below, but not to sleep. I lay quiet until the others snored and then slipped from my bunk and to the sail locker. Crawling over the sails I found what I had seen before, a loose board that opened into the hold.