Sackett's Land

            Later, again with sword in hand, I went to my fish-trap. It was there ... a part of it. Something, possibly an alligator, had destroyed it to get at the fish it had undoubtedly held.

            I swore bitterly, then taking what fragments might be used, I went back to the hulk to do the job once more. It was almost dusk when I replanted the trap and returned to my shelter to resume work on the bow, flattening the inner side, rounding the outer. I felt near to starving.

            That night I built my fire larger and slept fitfully, awakening to add fuel to the flames, sometimes to peer out into the darkness. My fire was well hidden and I had small fear it would be seen from the mainland.

            At daybreak I went to my fish trap and it held three fine, large fish!

            Rolling them in clay at the river's edge, I carried them back to camp and buried them in coals at the fire's edge. Later, when I could wait no longer, I ate them ... all three, and they were delicious.

            During the night the rain ceased so I kept my fire still smaller. Then I rigged a couple of deadfalls, took another fish from my trap, and ate some more scurvy grass.

            My next move must be to the mainland, to escape from my island prison. Twice I went out to the highest place on the island and stood among the trees looking down river. I saw nothing, no movement, no sail.

            On the fourth day I completed my bow and several arrows, and on the fifth day I found a huge, old dead tree clinging to some brush at the island's edge. If I could straddle that, shove off and hit that point yonder ...

            On the sixth day, with two smoked fish inside my shirt for rations, I shoved off, and in less than a half an hour was afoot in the mainland woods.

            My safest bet was to go to Potaka, yet I had no more faith in his protection than had Rufisco, so I struck out overland, for the coast.

            And on the morning of the seventh day, I killed a deer.

        Chapter 15

            Crouching in the low brush that crowned the sand hills where I waited, I studied the shore line with infinite patience. Already my eyes had scanned the sound, and no sail showed itself against the blue water, nor the blue sky beyond, nor close in against the sand.

            From time to time I had seen the tracks of Indians, but I had seen neither man, woman, nor child. I had eaten well of my venison, and had some still with me. There were well-used trails here and there but I avoided them, keeping to smaller trails or to the woods themselves.

            Travel was slower, yet it served me well, for I was learning more about the trees, the life of the forest, and what it was that lay before me.

            I must assume I would be some time ashore. If the Tiger had escaped, it might come back ... and might not. If it had been taken by the Jolly Jack, I would be unlikely to see any of my friends again. The thought of Abigail in the hands of Nick Bardle was intolerable.

            The Jack would return. Perhaps the Tiger also. These sounds were relatively secure against the worst of the storms. Undoubtedly all these waters could be frightening in stormy weather. But the banks interposed a wall between a ship and the sea, and there were numerous inlets and river mouths that offered shelter.

            Bardle was a cold fish ... a careful man. He would see the advantages of the sounds. In the meantime, I must live, and if possible accumulate more furs.

            With deadfall traps I snared a few animals: several mink, an otter, four beaver, and with an arrow I killed a fox.

            That night the traps I set brought me another fox, a mink, and a rabbit. I skinned out the first two, ate the third, and at daybreak was working my way through the sandhills toward one hill, taller than most, from which I hoped to have a view of the sound.

            Coming through the brush, I stumbled upon a path, a well-used path, and my first glance brought me up standing. There in the path, clear-cut and sharp, was a heel print! No moccasin, but a small boot, perfectly- shaped and not worn.

            Astonished, I glanced right and left, saw nothing, and began a study of the trail.

            The wearer of the small boot had come along the trail from between the sandhills, and not longer ago than last night or the afternoon before. She had been accompanied by at least two men.

            She?

            It was a small print, a very small boot, and it must be a woman's. Yet I knew of no woman, not an Indian, in this part of the world but ...

            Abigail!

            Smoke ... I smelled smoke. A moment later I glimpsed their camp. There were three men and Abigail.

            She sat across the fire from me and I was proud of her. No downcast face, no sloping shoulders, no look of defeat. She held her head up. 'You will be hung in chains,' she was saying, and her manner was assured. 'You do not realize what you have done.'

            Darkling was there, he was one of them, and he was a hard man. 'You're a simple fool,' he said roughly. 'Who is to know what happens here? You're ours, to do with as we choose. We'll have Tempany himself before dark. Not a prisoner mind you, but dead. We've no time for prisoners ... unless they are young and pretty.

            'We have to decide.' He glanced at the others. 'Do we take her back to the others? Or keep her here for awhile?'

            At that moment I stood up directly opposite her, and she saw me at once. I wasted no time on politeness or warnings. These were evil men and I well knew it. I loosed an arrow at the man nearest Darkling, a swarthy, muscular fellow who looked to be the most dangerous.

            The distance was not over fifteen yards, if so much, and the arrow shot true.

            It went through him about six inches above his great brass belt-buckle, and he gave a grunt and grabbed it with both hands, then went to his knees.

            The others turned sharply, but I had dropped down, another arrow notched and ready. Someone shot, far to the right, for my target had half-turned after taking the arrow, giving a false impression of its origin.

            My second arrow was less successful, for it struck a great bone-button on the man's coat. One saw few buttons and I had no use for them, and less now. The arrow glanced upward, inflicting a minor scratch on the man's face, and then they saw me.

            Both men came out with their blades and they started for me. Abigail—bless her—gathered her skirts and fled into the brush.

            Managing a longbow in that brush was not easy, so I tried no more shots, nor did I intend to fight. I simply fled as she had done, circling to intercept her, which I soon did. I could hear them crashing in the brush, but they were off the point. Catching Abigail by the hand, we ran a weaving route through the trees and to my sandhill.

            There was a deep cut in that dune made by some water cutting a way down where a tree's roots had left a gaping hole. We climbed to the hill's top, hidden as it was, and sat down on a great log.

            'I must say,' Abigail said, 'you took long enough!'

            'Long enough?' I stared at her dumbfounded.

            'Well,' she smoothed her skirt with both hands, 'if a man is going to rescue a lady he should have done it sooner, but thank you, nonetheless. I am obliged.'

            'Where is the Tiger?'

            'On the sand not far from here. That awful Captain Bardle hulled her twice and shot away our foremast. Several of the men have been killed and all were scattered.'

            'Captain Tempany?'

            'He's kept some of them together! I was going to join him with Lila. She turned back to the ship to get something she had forgotten, and while I waited these men rushed from the trees and captured me.'

            We had a good view and for the moment we were safe.

            I could barely make out the Tiger through the trees. She was hard