Pirate Freedom Read Online Free PDF Page B

climb in through the hawsepipe. That would put me on the weather deck, where the capstan was, forward of the foremast and right over the forecastle. Señor and whoever he had with him would be in the waist where they could watch the gangplank. If I stayed low, I could keep an eye on them over the edge of the weather deck. When they were busy with something, I could hold the edge of the deck and swing myself down into the forecastle. All I had to do was wait until it was good and dark, and borrow a boat to climb up from. I found a nice shady spot to sit in, and dozed off for a couple of hours.

    WHEN I WOKE up I went looking for the kind of boat I needed, one small enough that I could manage it by myself but big enough that it would not capsize when I stood up in it. Of course it had to be a boat nobody was watching. Once I got into the hawsepipe, I would let it drift away. The owner would probably be able to find it without too much trouble unless the tide carried it out to sea. Still, he would not like what I was going to do, and I knew it.

    That was a pretty tall order, and I had hardly started prowling through the hot, dark night when I spotted a boat in the harbor with two men rowing and another in the stern who seemed to be looking for something too. I thought they were probably soldiers or night watchmen or something, so I strolled along like I did not have a care in the world when they seemed tobe looking my way. Out toward the end of one of the piers, I stepped on a round piece of something—probably a boat pole—that rolled under my foot. I just about went into the water, and I yelled, "Oh, shit!"

    As soon as I said that, the man in the back of the boat sang out, "Ahoy there! You speak English?"

    He had a British accent and was a little hard for me to understand, but I waved and yelled, "Sure!"

    The other two rowed him over and he jumped up on the pier. I am taller than most people—my father told me once he got me engineered that way—and I was taller than he was by quite a bit. It was too dark to see a lot, but it seemed to me that he had more hair on his face, even though he did not seem like he was a whole lot older than I was.

    "Say, this's luck! We've been hours tryin' to get our bearin's. None of us speaks the lingo, you see." He held out his hand. "Bram Burt's my name. Midshipman Burt that was, late of His Majesty's
Lion
and these days skipper of the
Macérer
."

    He had a good handshake. I could tell the name of his ship was French from the way he said it, but I did not know what the word meant. I gave him my name, called him sir, and explained that I was just an ordinary seaman from the
Santa Charita
.

    "Bit of an accent there, eh? You're a Day—You're Spanish?"

    I said, "I'm from Jersey, but I speak Spanish."

    "That explains it. Have to, on a Dago ship. Parlez-vous français?"

    I told him I did, a little, saying it in French. Then I started trying to tell him about the monastery.

    "Belay that. Bit too quick for me, eh? You'd be a handy sort to have 'round, though. Half my bloody crew's French. See here now, the dear old
Macérer
's markin' time out there, eh? Outside the roadstead. They goin' to get huffy if we make port tonight?"

    I explained that some of the guns were up in the fort already, said I would not try it, and showed him where he could find the harbor master in the morning.

    "What do you think our chances are of gettin' a cargo here? Sold every-thin' in Port Royal, eh? No cargo for us there, so we're lookin' about.
Saint Charity
havin' much luck?"

    I shrugged. "They say we'll load tomorrow, Captain, but I don't know what it is."

    "That's interestin'." It was too dark for me to be sure, but I believe he winked. "Gold doubloons, hid away ever so snug. Put it in kegs marked BEER, eh? They're shippin' gold back to the Spanish king like 'twas sand, we hear."

    I shook my head. "I'm sure it's not that, sir."

    " 'Cause of that big lad?" He pointed to the galleon.

    "Yes, sir,