The Privateersman by Richard Woodman

Author:Richard Woodman
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788632188
Publisher: Canelo
Published: 2018-08-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

A Ship For Rhode Island

They stumbled through the thick snow almost blind, glad of its concealment, yet uncertain of their way until Harper called for them to halt and they heard some drunken shouting which, in ten minutes, led them to the waterfront. Earlier, among the score or so of craft moored along the wharf, Harper had spotted a small rowing boat, too small for the gangs of Patriots that, if the noise was anything to judge by, were already pulling through the soft snowflakes towards the anchored ships.

‘At least there will be no lack of warning,’ Kite said anxiously, as the other two scrambled down into the little boat.

‘Aye, but John Corrie might think they’re only revellers, sir,’ said Harper as he sorted the oars. ‘Christmas is not far off.’

‘Christmas?’ queried Kite, pausing turned to step from the ladder into the wildly rocking boat. ‘I had forgotten about Christmas.’

‘We’re ready, sir,’ Harper said. The Second Mate and Jacob had settled themselves on the two thwarts and each pulled a pair of oars.

‘Very well, then let’s cast off.’ Kite turned to get his bearings. The boat had no rudder and he would have to set their course from memory. ‘Give way together… Pull starboard… Now… pull evenly.’

A moment later it was as if the world had disappeared. The boat surged along, floating on jet black water in a tiny circumscribed area which was limited by the cold, pale and falling snow. As each white flake touched the surface of the sea, it vanished, but Kite took no interest in this. he was looking over his shoulder, trying to keep track of the wake and correct its deviation from what he tried to judge was a straight line in the direction to the ship. Somewhere ahead of him he could hear the noise of the Patriots and after a few moments he commanded: ‘Oars!’

Harper and Jacob raised the oar-blades from the water and held them horizontally as the boat carried her way through the water. Kite listened intently, trying to divine the direction of the Wentworth from any commotion, but the Patriots had fallen silent themselves.

‘They’ll have strung themselves out in a line abreast,’ Harper offered.

Kite nodded, ‘just what I was thinking,’ he agreed. They glided on in silence for a moment, Kite’s anxiety increasing with every passing second. Then, quite distinctly they heard a shout which confirmed their supposition.

‘Here she is!’ the voice called and then there were several shouts as each boat identified its relationship with the locator of the Wentworth and Kite was galvanised.

‘Give way! Pull starboard hard!’

Harper and Jacob laid back on their oars and the boat leapt through the water, the bow rising under the power of their strokes, with Kite in the stern sheets leaning forward as if he could impart initial impetus to their advance. Then Kite suddenly sensed something was wrong. A second later there seemed to be a huge black hole in the white curtain of snow as the hull of a vessel loomed out of the night.

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