“The sand?” Doud challenged.
“Yer can’t see it? Whoever sets it up gets valuable whisky on the ship’s papers so ’e can claim fer it as well, but ’e lands it for ’imself and loads aboard —”
Doud nodded. “Yeah, got a feelin’ yer could be right. Stands ter reason.”
Kydd shivered. The moonlit sea had somehow lost its exuberance.
“Poor buggers. But fer us they’d be shakin’ hands with Davy Jones himself b’ now.”
Bowyer looked sorrowfully at Doud. “You are a simpleton, Ned, me old shipmate. Now think on this — they can’t risk the barky makin’ port, not with them kegs o’ sand, they got ter make sure.”
Nobody spoke. “They have ter be sure she goes to the bottom, ’n’ that means that the skipper must be in on it. It’s him what knows what’s in the papers, nobody else.”
Kydd couldn’t believe that the tired old man would commit such cold-blooded murder. “But he’d go down as well — you saw how rough it was!”
“No, Tom, that there blow was not in the plan, no one could get away in a boat in that. What he needs ter do later is one night stove in the bottom, or somethin’, and make off with the only boat. No witnesses, see?”
Doud whistled. “Then we need to tell Warren quick-smart — he’ll know what to do.”
“So who went down into the hold to find this sand? Agin his strict orders? You?”
The odd-looking sail forward shivered and flapped until Bowyer realized and paid off a spoke or two at the helm.
“Damn it, we have t’ do something,” Kydd shouted.
“What did ye say?” It was Scully, emerging from the after hatchway. He moved up and stood before them, legs apart and thumbs in his belt. “So all the King’s men are on deck, are they? What’s yer trouble, then — vittles not to yer liking? Or should I tickle yer with a rope’s end ter make yer feel at home?” The moonlight threw his face into strong contrast.
Doud started up, but seemed to remember something and subsided.
“Take the hellum, Ned,” Bowyer said, and handed over the wheel to a puzzled Doud before confronting Scully. “Now, Mr. Scully — sir. We found out somethin’ about yer vessel, and we’re vexed to know how ter handle it.”
Scully tensed. “Yeah?”
“Well, it’s like this. We know yer shipped a cargo o’ whisky, ’n’ — well, let me put it this a-way.” He scratched his head to find the words. “Seems it ain’t all it seems. See, we checked up on it, bored a little hole, like, ’n’ all there was was sand. No spirits, jus’ sand.”
Scully stepped back. “Yer found just sand?” he said, in a dangerous voice.
Bowyer shrugged. “So I hates to inform yer — but it seems a good chance that yer cap’n is goin’ to scuttle the barky ’n’ claim the ing-surance.”
“Who have yer told?” said Scully, after a moment’s pause.
“Well, this is our difficulty, see. Our officer told us he’d stripe our backs if we entered the hold, so yez understands, we can’t really tell him, like.”
Scully’s eyes flickered. “Yer did right to tell me, boys. Comes as a bit of a shock, our own skipper ’n’ all. Don’t you worry, cully, I’ll tell yer officer as it was me who found out.” He hesitated. “Yer did well, lads. I’ll go ’n’ tell ’im now, don’t you worry.”
They waited until Scully passed below.
“We keeps the deck, watch ’n’ watch,” Bowyer said firmly. “Ned, you go ’n’ rouse up Wong ’n’ tell him to lay aft here with us. Nobody’s goin’ to touch that boat.”
Doud added, “Fer once in me life I’m right pleased to ’ave an officer in th’ offing.”
It was Doud on the wheel when dawn broke; a clear, bracing dawn that saw the white-capped seas hurrying toward them under the strong breeze — exhilarating sailing weather.
“Well, I own I’m at a stand as to why Warren didn’t come up ter see us-not like him at all.” Doud’s frown deepened.
Bowyer opened an eye and considered. “Maybe he’s been gettin’ his swede down — he did put in double tides yesterday. I’ll go below ’n’ give him a shake, it bein’ dawn an’ all.”
Kydd stretched his aching limbs. He was not yet able to snatch sleep wherever he was like the other seamen and his muzzy mind needed prodding into life.
Bowyer returned looking grave. “He’s not in his cabin.”