“Indeed,” Hunter said.
“Will you make your reply?”
“Not now,” Hunter said. He turned away from the window. “Is he alone on the ship?”
“Aye, if that matters.”
Sanson alone was worth a dozen men or more in an open battle.
The treasure galleon was not moored close to any other ships in the harbor; nearly a quarter mile of open water surrounded it on all sides. It stood in splendid, impregnable isolation.
“I must think,” Hunter said, and went to sit again.
…
A SHIP MOORED in open, placid water was as safe as a fortress surrounded by a moat. And what Sanson did next made him even safer: he dumped slops and garbage all around the vessel to attract sharks. There were plenty of sharks in the harbor anyway, so that swimming to El Trinidad was a form of suicide.
Nor could any boat approach the ship without being easily spotted.
Therefore, the approach must be open and apparently harmless. But an open longboat gave no opportunity for hiding. Hunter scratched his head. He paced the floor of the Black Boar and then, still restless, he went out into the street.
There he saw a water-spouter, a common conjurer of the day, spouting streams of multicolored water from his lips. Conjuring was forbidden in the Massachusetts Colony as tending to promote the work of the devil; for Hunter, it had an odd fascination.
He watched the water-spouter for several moments, as he drank and spewed different kinds of water one after another. Finally, he went up to the man.
“I want to know your secrets.”
“Many a fine woman in the Court of King Charles has said as much, and offered more than you have offered.”
“I offer you,” Hunter said, “your life.” And he pressed a loaded pistol in his face.
“You’ll not bully me,” the conjurer said.
“I fancy, I will.”
And a few moments later, he was back in the conjurer’s tent, hearing the details of his exploits.
“Things are not as they seem,” said the conjurer.
“Show me,” Hunter said.
The conjurer explained that before a performance, he swallowed a pill confected of the gall of a heifer and baked wheat flour. “This cleanses my stomach, you see.”
“I do. Go on.”
“Next, I take a mixture of brazil nuts and water, boiled until it is dark red in color. I swallow this before I work.”
“Go on.”
“Then I wash the glasses with white vinegar.”
“Go on.”
“And some glasses not so washed.”
“Go on.”
Then, the water-spouter explained, he drank water from clean glasses, and regurgitated the contents of his stomach, producing glasses of bright red “claret.” In other glasses, which had a coating of vinegar, the same liquid became “beer,” of a dark brown color.
Drinking and regurgitating more water produced a lighter red color, which was called “sherry.”
“There’s no more trick to it than that,” said the conjurer. “Things are not as they seem, and that’s an end to it.” He sighed. “It’s all in directing attention to the wrong place.”
Hunter thanked the man, and went off to search for Enders.
…
“ DO YOU KNOW the woman who enabled our release from Marshallsea?”
“Anne Sharpe is her name.”
“Find her,” Hunter said. “And get for the longboat crew six of the best men you can muster.”
“Why, Captain?”
“We are going to pay a visit to Sanson.”
Chapter 38
ANDRE SANSON, THE lethal, powerful Frenchman, was not accustomed to the sensation of fear, and he did not feel afraid as he saw the longboat put out from shore. He observed the boat carefully; from a distance, he could see six oarsmen and two people sitting in the bow, but he could not discern who they were.
He expected some ruse. The Englishman Hunter was crafty, and he would use his craft if he could. Sanson knew that he was not clever, as Hunter was. His own talents were more animal, more directly physical. And yet he was confident that there was no trick Hunter could play upon him. It was, very simply, impossible. He was alone on this ship and he would remain alone, safely, until night fell. But he would have his freedom by dusk or he would destroy the ship.
And he knew Hunter would never let the ship be destroyed. He had fought too hard and suffered too much for that treasure. He would do anything to keep it - even to the point of releasing Sanson. The Frenchman was confident.
He peered at the approaching longboat. As it came nearer, he saw that Hunter himself stood in the prow, along with some woman. What could be the meaning of this? His head ached to wonder what Hunter had planned.
Yet, in the end, he contented himself with the reassurance that no trick was possible. Hunter was clever but there was a limit to cleverness. And Hunter must know that even from a distance, he could be picked off as quickly and simply as a man brushes a fly from his sleeve. Sanson could kill him now if he wished. But there was no reason. All he wanted was his freedom, and a pardon. For that, he needed Hunter alive.
The longboat came closer, and Hunter waved cheerfully. “Sanson, you French pig!” he called.
Sanson waved back, grinning. “Hunter, you English pox of a sheep!” he shouted with a joviality that he did not feel at all. His tension was considerable, and increased as he realized how casually Hunter was behaving.
The longboat pulled alongside El Trinidad. Sanson leaned over slightly, showing them the crossbow. But he did not want to lean too far, though he was eager for a look inside the boat.
“Why are you here, Hunter?”
“I have brought you a present. May we come aboard?”
“You two only,” Sanson said, and stepped back from the railing. He quickly ran to the opposite side of the ship, to see if another longboat was approaching from another direction. He saw nothing but calm water, and the rippling fins of cruising sharks.
Turning back, he heard the sound of two people clambering up the side of the ship. He aimed his crossbow as a woman appeared. She was young and damnably pretty. She smiled at him, almost shyly, and stepped to one side as Hunter came on deck. Hunter paused, and looked at Sanson, who was twenty paces away, with the crossbow in his hands.
“Not a very hospitable greeting,” Hunter said.
“You must forgive me,” Sanson said. He looked at the girl, then back to Hunter. “Have you arranged to meet my demands?”
“I am doing so, even as we talk. Sir James is drawing up the papers, and they shall be delivered in a few hours.”
“And the meaning of this visit?”
Hunter gave a short laugh. “Sanson,” he said, “you know me for a practical man. You know that you have all the cards. I must agree to anything you say. This time, you have been too clever, even for me.”
“I know,” Sanson said.
