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 theJolly Jack. She had twelve guns that were heavier than those I'd seen on theTiger. Moreover, theJack 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, thatJolly 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
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes