Sackett's Land

decide. What future is there here but a life among savages, until you become savage yourself?'

            Later, Jublain and Corvino were waiting on deck. 'We have traded a little along the coast,' Corvino said, 'and we have done well.'

            They had already met Sakim, and the three were friends. I gave a thought to Rufisco, buried under the sand. He wanted the sun, and the wine and the girls. I would drink a toast to him, someday, in some such place as that of which he dreamed.

            'Sakim! You have done many things, but have you ever built a ship?'

            'I have. And several I have rebuilt after battle or storm.' He looked at me thoughtfully. 'You are thinking of a ship?'

            'I am ... and a cargo of potash.'

            'Potash?'

            'It's used in making glass, and soap, too. I shall burn oak wood, perhaps some other hardwoods as well. Leach the ashes and ship them to England.'

            'They will pay for that?' Jublain was skeptical.

            'Aye,' Corvino said. 'A glassmaker would pay ten shillings per hundredweight, and here there are forests of oaks. All it takes is work.'

            'I am a warrior,' Jublain said contemptuously.

            'And a poor one,' Corvino agreed. 'A warrior who will not soil his hands, but does not have a bit for wine or ale? Or one who works a little and buys what ale and wine he needs?'

            'If it comes to that,' Jublain admitted.

            The weather was fair and the wind held steady. The three-master moved along smoothly, yet slowed by the current, and when we were abeam of the rocks, Sakim, Jublain and I shoved off in the gig, which had been towed astern. It needed only a short time to retrieve our first cache of furs, load them into the gig and start back. There was no sign of Nick Bardle or his crew, nor of any Indians.

            We moved upstream to the mouth of the first branching stream of size. There we put the wheel over and, using great care, let the current strike our starboard bow and slowly swing the ship around. There was room enough and to spare, and when we had turned we started downstream, moving toward the farther bank.

            The low island to which we came looked no different than it had. I went down the ladder into the gig, followed by Sakim and Jublain again, and once more we pushed away from the Tiger's side toward familiar land.

            Despite our previous visit, it was no easy thing to find the hulk again, and a slow, burdensome task to carry the furs all the way to the gig. Yet carry them we did, and again we pushed off. At the Tiger, Sakim climbed aboard and the furs were hoisted.

            Suddenly, there were shouts from above, frantic cries, then the boom of a cannon. The Jolly Jack had rounded the bend. A shot struck the water nearby and as the sails went up on the Tiger the wind caught them and she gave a lurch, turning quickly and thrusting sharply forward.

            As her bows thrust forward, she bumped hard against the gig. Standing in its bow, having just made fast the towline, I was pitched headfirst into the water.

            I went down, down, down. My lungs struggled for breath, my hands lashed at the water and I shot up. The gig, trailing behind the Tiger now, was a good dozen feet away. I heard the boom of another cannon and saw the Jolly Jack closing, yet there was a sudden concussion, a nearer shot, and I saw the ball hit the rail of the Jack and throw splinters high into the air.

            There was a scream, then the Tiger, firing at will, let go with another. The Jack, heading upstream then, passed the Tiger and I could see men racing along the deck to bring the stern gun to bear.

            Treading water, I suddenly, realized the Jolly Jack was abreast of me and not fifty yards off. The Tiger was sailing away. Instantly, I dove, swimming under water toward the island. Reaching its shore I walked and crawled until almost out of water. Then, with my face exposed, I lay still.

            The Jack was turning about to give chase.

            I could see confusion on her decks, one gun dismounted, a portion of the rail shot away. What damage had been done the Tiger, I had no idea.

            When she was well past I crawled on my belly up the sand, trying to imitate the wriggling of an alligator. When I came near some brush I crawled in. There, I sat up and looked slowly around.

            I sat amid some low-growing brush on a sandpit on the island of the hulk. I had only the clothes in which I stood, my sword and dagger, nothing more.

            Obviously the Jolly Jack had been lying in wait in some inlet, her mast lost among treetops, and we too intent upon my sandy island and the furs to spot her. Now the Jack was in hot pursuit and that she was the faster of the two vessels I knew full well. Also, she was heavier-gunned, heavier-manned, and altogether a more complete fighting ship.

            The Tiger had a lead and it had the wind. There was nothing for it but to run, and the Jack would follow.

            And I?

            I would remain here, on this island ... alone.

        Chapter 14

            When the Jolly Jack was well away I got slowly to my feet. I was dripping wet and clammy. The air seemed to have grown colder with a wind from off the sea. From my charts, the growth about me, and the season, this should be southern land, yet nobody had told the wind.

            I went to the old hulk, almost buried in sand, and went in under her side. Well I knew how to build a fire with bow and string, yet work as I might this time no flame would come. At last, too cold and weary to try more, I dug a place for myself in the sand, filled it with grass and crawled down inside it to sleep. And sleep I did ... sword in hand.

            Dawn broke cold with another spitting rain. My shirt and breeches had dried but little. Back under the hulk I found a bird's nest of twigs, dried grass and hair. This I brought out and once more set to work with bow and string.

            Soon a tiny tendril of smoke arose, and I glimpsed a spark. I blew gently ... it went out. I worked again, worked until my palms were sore, and then again the smoke. I worked harder and harder, and soon a spark ... another! I blew gently, ever so gently. The spark brightened, dimmed, brightened again as I breathed upon it, and a tendril of dry grass began to smoke. Soon I had a fire, a very small fire.

            When it was burning, I crept outside and looked carefully around.

            Where was the Tiger? Had she escaped? Or been taken by the Jolly Jack? Had I been seen after I fell into the river? Did they guess that I lived?

            There was fuel enough and more, but, sitting by the fire, I was suddenly overcome by depression.

            I was alone. Even if the Tiger survived, it might be too severely injured to return for me, even if Captain Tempany believed in my survival.

            They were gone, and I was alone. What happened now was up to me.

            The old hull in which I sheltered myself had somehow been destroyed, its crew drowned or killed by Indians, the hull finally beached here on this island. It had been as large a vessel as the Tiger. There was little upon which to make an estimate, but the line of the bow was unusual. It did not appear to have broken in half, only that the larger portion was buried in sand, many years ago.

            I went outside into the rain and dragged some brush nearer, then picked up various odds and ends of logs, broken timbers and the like to keep my fire alive.

            The hull was thick, and exposure to the elements had not weakened it, I could wish for no better shelter. At the back end I could go into what must have been a sort of forecastle, but that I had not yet explored.