No King, No Country (The Inness Legacy Book 1) by Wayne Grant

Author:Wayne Grant [Grant, Wayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-13T16:00:00+00:00

The Donker Nacht

The storm came on fast, boiling out of the south with bolts of lightning leaping across the cloud tops and sheets of rain blown sideways by the wind. Captain Baltazar de Graff had seen it coming and knew they could not weigh anchor and sail for Santa Domingo until this weather passed. He ordered his pinnace hauled up and secured on deck. Even in a protected anchorage a storm like this could roil the water enough to smash a small boat to splinters against the sloop’s hull.

As his crew set about securing the lines and equipment on deck he looked up the channel at the square-rigger that was only now starting to lift off the sandbar. Getting the fat merchantman off the bottom and into deeper water in this blow would be tricky. There was a danger the storm could drive the ship into shallower water and beach her for good. He’d sent his first mate over with half of the sloop’s crew to man his prize and was anxious to see how they fared, but as the sky darkened and the wind driven rain swept across the channel, he could barely see the Fair Wind.

Van Wyke is on his own, he thought.

De Graff scanned the deck and rigging of his own vessel and, satisfied that the Donker Nacht was secured against the gale, kept two men topside to keep watch and sent the bulk of the crew below to get out of the weather. Wavetops were already beginning to splash over the side of the sloop and wash across the deck.

He ordered the two men left topside to finish sealing the hatches with canvas and wooden battens. That task was barely completed when the storm redoubled its fury. Waves were now cresting over the gunwales of the sloop and eddying ankle-deep around the mast and the raised frames of the hatches.

De Graff retreated into the sterncastle, leaving one unfortunate man to stand watch on deck and ordering the other to take up station outside Van Wyke’s small cabin, where his prisoners were now confined. Down a narrow hall was his own, more spacious cabin. In between was a small nook where his steward Mateo was quartered, ever ready to answer his captain’s summons.

He paused at the door of the first mate’s cabin and thought he could still hear moaning inside. He shook his head and wondered if anyone would be willing to pay good money for such a childish woman. But her brother had confessed that his sister was betrothed to Sir Thomas Lunsford, the Captain General of Virginia’s colonial militia.

Lunsford’s name was not unknown to de Graff. Another Dutch privateer had foundered near the mouth of the Cheseapeak Bay two years ago and Lunsford had hanged the few survivors. The Captain General had also acquired large tracts of land along the James River and was said to be the second or third wealthiest man in Virginia. Surely that meant a rich pay day.

But God’s breath, the

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