wind distrustfully. 'I mislike bolderin' weather this time o' the year, this bein' the season f'r hurricanoes an' all.' They would have no chance if it came to anything like a gale: merchantmen were always looking to shave corners with the cost of gear.
'Sail
'Armed schooners!' muttered Jowett.
'Privateers, an' we ain't got a chance!' a seaman added. In the absence of the bulk of the Fleet at San Domingo the French privateers were basing themselves back in Guadeloupe, issuing out to fall on any passing prey. Like corsairs, they were savage and murderous.
'Don' vex 'em more'n we need, Mr Jowett,' an older seaman advised, staring at the two schooners leaning to their hard drawing sails. 'We ain't got powder fer our guns, nor a full suit o' sails, so we'll never outrun 'em. Why don't we strike our colours now?'
Jowett's jaw set. 'No — we got a chance. If they see us in Antego, we get help. Hold course!' The island was drawing nearer and hardening in definition. Renzi scanned the south coast for any indication that they had been seen and a ship was putting to sea in their aid.
Half-way across, it became obvious that the Frenchmen would come up with them well before they could make Antigua. The white swash at their bows sparkled in the sun, their sails hard and boardlike. They were now close enough to show the sight of their crew, clustered around their fore-part.
The flat crack of a gun followed the sudden appearance of a puff of gunsmoke; the leading schooner was making its intentions known. Renzi swept his gaze over the approaching coast Even if they were sighted now, help could not arrive before the privateers had done their worst A half-smile appeared on his face. Logic ruled that he would be either dead or captured within two hours. He folded his arms and awaited events.
Then Renzi saw the leading schooner suddenly surge round, head to wind. Her sails shook until the vessel paid off on the other tack — going before the wind away from them! Shaking his head in disbelief, he looked about, searching for a reason for the sudden retreat: perhaps the headsails of a ship-of-the-line appearing around a headland, a vengeful frigate from the south. Nothing. The other schooner followed suit and, under the incredulous gaze of the brig's crew, the privateers were seen making for Guadeloupe and their lair.
Excited, the sailors jabbered away, looking for an explanation for their deliverance.
Jowett seemed not to share their jubilation. 'Cos they seen that,' he said. His arm pointed towards the north-east. The cloud banks had extended across the sky and darkened. 'It's a reg'lar goin' hurricanoe, that's what, yer sees.'
'We bears up fer English Harbour,' said the helmsman.
'Nah, we bin holdin' course fer St John's an' we c'n never beat back to the east'd in time.'
'If we makes it ter Antego west about, we'll be in the lee o' the storm.'
Jowett growled. 'Shut yer jabber - we goes t' St John's.'
The brig was battened down tight; it was hard on the unfortunates in the airless hold and if they foundered or struck on the rocks their-end would not be pleasant. Renzi cringed as he gave Louise his assurances and asked her to calm her compatriots. She did this without question, quietly accepting imprisonment in the claustrophobic darkness.
They kept well clear of the breakers to the south-west of Antigua but by the time the rock-studded danger of Five Isles was abeam, the brig was bucketing and rolling in ugly seas. 'Only a league or so,' yelled Jowett, to the men on the yard. They had come up with the little islet of Sandy Island off St John's and were now within a few miles of safety — but that now seemed impossible, for it lay in the teeth of the fresh gale, hourly increasing in strength.
Seamen gathered on deck. The distant sight of the town, no more than five miles ahead, taunted and beckoned. The little brig strained to her uttermost close-hauled, but could not lie close enough to the wind to fetch harbour.
A
