Clive Cussler; Craig Dirgo Read Online Free PDF Page B

important, we need a solid course to sail.”
    “I see,” Tonty said quietly. “So you and Beaujeu have decided this?”
    “Yes, we have,” Aigron said forcefully.
    “Then you leave me little choice,” Tonty said.
    Tonty took two steps closer to Aigron, then grabbed him with his iron hand by the neck and held tightly. Dragging him along the passageway to the ladder, he pulled him topside to the deck. Once on the main deck, he shouted to the closest sailor.
    “Who is the second in command?” Tonty asked.
    A tall, thin man stepped forth. “I am, Monsieur Tonty.”
    “Scrub this ship from stem to stem,” Tonty said. “We sail in the morning with La Salle as your captain. Is that understood?”
    “Yes, sir,” the second officer said.
    Aigron started to speak, but Tonty squeezed his Adam’s apple tighter.
    “Captain Aigron will be going ashore with me,” Tonty said, as he led the captain to the ladder going down to the shore boat. “La Salle will be back in a few hours. We weigh anchor at first light.”
    “As you wish, sir,” the second in command said solicitously.
    Tonty dragged Aigron across the deck to the ladder and then down the few feet to the shore boat. Stepping into the boat, he pulled the captain into a seat and motioned for the sailor to shove off. The boat was halfway to the dock before Tonty released his grip on Aigron’s neck.
    Staring straight into the captain’s eyes, he spoke in a low voice. “You may take over command of Belle or I’ll toss you into the drink right now. What is your choice?”
    The hook had crushed his voice box—Aigron could barely speak.
    “The Belle, please, Monsieur Tonty,” Aigron said in a hoarse whisper.
    The shore boat was pulling abreast of the dock.
    “You defy La Salle’s orders again,” Tonty said, “and your neck will feel my cutlass.”
    Aigron gave a tiny nod.
    Then Tonty climbed from the shore boat and walked down the dock without looking back. His friend La Salle dreamed of conquering a continent for his king.
    But dreams do not always come true.
     
    FOR LA SALLE, the last two weeks had been a living hell. The fevers had returned and, with them, his feelings of isolation and indecision. Once the trio of ships rounded Cuba and entered the Gulf of Mexico, the tension of the Spanish death sentence made matters worse. At sea any ill will or imagined slights are magnified a hundredfold, and that was the case for La Salle’s expedition. Sailors barely talked to settlers—La Salle and the captains had taken to communicating only through intermediaries.
    Just in the nick of time, on January 1, 1685, the bottom soundings turned up land.
    In L’Aimable’s cabin, La Salle, Tonty, and their faithful Indian guide, Nika, held a hushed meeting. The success of the whole expedition hinged on what these men would decide. It was a decision made under pressure, and those rarely are fruitful.
    “What are your thoughts, Nika?” La Salle asked the taciturn guide.
    “I think we are close,” Nika noted, “but we have yet to see the brown streak from the muddy waters of the great river.”
    La Salle mopped his sweating brow with an embroidered handkerchief. The temperature outside was barely fifty degrees, but he could not stop sweating.
    “Tonty?” he asked.
    “I say we continue sailing due north until we make landfall, then send a party ashore,” Tonty said logically. “That should give us an idea where we are.”
    “My thoughts exactly,” La Salle said.
    Three hours later, the dim outline of land was spotted by the crow’s-nest lookout. La Salle went ashore to explore. From land, the area looked different from what he remembered, but there could be good reasons for that. First, the flat marshland featured less vegetation in January than in springtime, which was the only time he had seen it. Second, approaching from water was always tricky; the perspective was different, and landmarks were harder to identify.
    Unless the expedition made land near the