Kydd(54)

He glanced about, then leaned forward. “So, Tom, me old mate, when you has the watch tonight, you may see a little rabbit pop down the fore hatch, which in course yer won’t notice.” He allowed Kydd to glimpse a sizable gimlet in his pocket.

“I got a thirst on’ll stun an ox — but I’ll not ferget me friends.” He grinned and continued at his work.

At dusk, Bowyer was at the wheel and Kydd on deck with him. Warren had gone below for supper with Kelsey, those off watch were in the cuddy for their supper and all was peaceful.

A figure appeared at the break of the fo’c’sle. Bowyer grunted, but Kydd smiled and whispered, “Ned going after a wet.”

“Yer mean —”

“He’s goin’ to tap off some whisky,” Kydd said.

“That’s broachin’ cargo — a hangin’ matter,” Bowyer growled.

Kydd’s smile faded. “Says they’re an ungrateful crew, not seein’ us right after riskin’ our lives, and so he’s goin’ t’ even things up!”

“Still no reason ter break into cargo — Warren finds out, ’e’s a gone goose. An’ we’re ’avin’ no part of it — are we?” He looked straight at Kydd.

“You’re in the right of it, Joe,” Kydd admitted. “Ned’s a bit too forward for his own good a-times.”

Doud silently dropped out of sight down the hooded companionway to the hold.

Darkness clamped in, but an unexpected moon broke through the scurrying clouds for the first time, accentuating the whiteness of the foam crests and glittering in the inky troughs. It was strange to have the seas so close, a few feet away after Duke William’s thirty or more.

Doud cautiously emerged on deck, but instead of returning to the cuddy he hurried aft toward them.

“Ned?”

“Yes, mate.”

“Well?”

“Well, I stand well flammed. In truth, I didn’t catch so much as a whiff o’ whisky, so help me.”

Lieutenant Warren’s appearance on deck put an end to the conversation. He peered at the binnacle and up at the vigorously drawing single sail, then concluded with a cautious pace around the decks. “Quiet watch?” he asked.

“Aye, sir,” Bowyer answered stolidly.

“Should be up with Duke William at noon tomorrow,” Warren said.

“Sir.” Bowyer was not given to idle chat with officers.

“Notice anything unusual, Bowyer? Master seems uneasy about something.”

“No, sir.”

“Very well. You’ll be relieved at midnight. Any worries, I’ll be below. Goodnight.”

With a last sniff at the weather he left.

“Good hand, is he,” Doud said. “Others would have us squarin’ off all the time, ’n’ on our knees on deck and such. Hope he gets his step — deserves better’n the Royal Billy.”

“Why didn’t you get y’r taste o’ whisky?” Kydd asked.

“Well, that’s the damnedest thing. I tapped three kegs, ’n’ they were all full right enough — wi’ sand!”

“You went to the right ones?”

“O’ course! If I can’t tell a cask o’ spirits by the feel, I been wastin’ me time ashore.”

“Maybe some was carried as a ballast?”

“Nah — I was careful to choose three separate ones. The whole lot’ll have to be the same.”

They lapsed into silence. Forward the jury rig creaked constantly as it worked with the ship’s roll.

“Makes no sense. If the Cap’n wanted ter bam the merchant by landin’ the spirits fer his own ’n’ switchin’ sand in place of it, you’d think that ’e’d be smoked at t’other end.”

Bowyer frowned as he braced at the wheel. Kydd perceived his disquiet at the way things were developing.

“Whoever does get his ’ands on two ’undred barrels o’ whisky is goin’ to end up with a pile o’ guineas yer couldn’t jump over.” Doud unconsciously licked his lips.

“Doesn’t explain th’ sand,” Kydd said.

There was a murmur from Bowyer.

“What was that, Joe?”

“Well, mean ter say —”

“Come on, spit it out, mate!” Doud urged.

“Er, don’t like ter say it, but there is one reason I c’n think of.”

“Yeah?”

Bowyer looked intently at the weather leech of the mainsail. “Could be this is a coffin ship, mates.”

“It — what?” Kydd said.

“Not sayin’ as it is, but there’s them a’longshore who would send sailors to sea in a barky that ain’t meant to make port. Then they collects on the ing-surance when she don’t arrive.”