Buccaneer

'Poor sods,' breathed Otway. 'She must have driven ashore in the gale. I doubt there were any survivors.'

They paddled their pirogue closer, looking for any signs of lite. Jezreel fired his musket as a signal. But there was no response, no answering shot, no call. The big man reloaded and fired again in the air — still there was nothing. The shattered hulk was abandoned, dark, and silent.

_SIX

The North's baleful effect was detected far to the south. In Dan's homeland on the Miskito coast his people saw the tide recede beyond its normal range, then flood in with unusual strength, and they knew that it signified a great, distant upheaval. The flotsam washed ashore was still being gathered by children from the Miskito villages when Dan came home a fortnight later. He recounted how he and Jacques had been taken by Coxon's buccaneers and sent aboard L'Arc-de-Ciel to Petit Guave. The French settlement had been abuzz with preparations for a free-booting raid on the Spanish Main, and the governor, Monsieur de Pouncay, was absent. Rather than wait for his return to decide if their prisoners were guilty of piracy, Captain Coxon's prize crew saw their chance of easy plunder. They volunteered to join the French expedition, freed their prisoners, and recruited Dan to pilot them to the Miskito coast for it was from there that the French proposed to march on the Spanish settlements in the interior. Jacques was happy to join them as he had encountered several former acquaintances from the Paris gaols among the freebooters. But when the French expedition disembarked, Jacques had changed his mind, preferring to stay behind on the beach and watch out for any Spanish patrol ships and wait for Dan to return from a visit to his Miskito family.

'Weren't they happy to see you again?' asked Jacques. He had been surprised to see Dan reappear after less than a week. Dan looked up from where he was kneeling on the sand, about to butcher a turtle for their midday meal.

'Of course. They wanted to hear about all the places I had seen during my travels.'

'And didn't they expect you to stay at home?'

'That's not our custom,' the Miskito replied. 'Our young men are encouraged to join the foreign raiding parties who come to our coast. They get well rewarded as scouts and hunters.'

He turned the turtle on its back and tickled it under the chin with the point of his cutlass. The creature extended its neck, and with a lightning stroke he chopped down with his blade. The head spun away, the beaked jaws still snapping and narrowly missing Jacques who jumped aside.

'How are you going to get into the shell?' the Frenchman asked.

'It's easy. You slip the tip of your cutlass into this slot where the upper and lower shells meet. Then carefully slice sideways, following right around the joint. If you try to cut anywhere else, you'll find it impossible.'

Jacques rubbed the galerien's brand on his cheek as he watched his companion. Within moments the Miskito had prised apart the turtle, opening it like a clam shell.

'Why, the gut's like the intestines of a cow,' the Frenchman noted in surprise.

'I suppose that's because the turtles also feed on grass.'

'But they are sea creatures.'

'If it's calm tomorrow,' answered the Miskito, 'I'll take you out in a canoe to where you can see four fathoms down. You'll see grass growing on the sea floor. That's the turtle's food.'

He turned back to his work and pointed out two discoloured patches of flesh in the body of the turtle, close to the muscles of the front flippers. 'You must cut those out,' he said. 'If you don't, the flesh will have a bad taste when cooked.'

'Just leave the cooking to me,' said Jacques impatiently. He was of the opinion that the Miskito showed a great lack of imagination by only grilling or boiling turtle meat. He had already suggested to Dan that a sauce of lemon juice, pimento and pepper would enhance the flavour.

'As you wish,' said Dan equably. 'For frying the meat, use that yellowish fat on the inside of the lower shell. But please leave me the greenish fat of the upper shell.'

'Is it poisonous?' asked Jacques who felt that perhaps he was too hasty in his culinary plans.

'Not at all. I'll set the shell upright in the sand after we've got all the meat out of it. When the sun has softened the green fat, you can scrape it off and eat it raw. It's delicious.'

A halloo attracted their attention. A hundred yards offshore a dugout canoe was passing down the coast under a small triangular sail. Its occupant was standing up and waving to them. Immediately Dan got to his feet and waved back, beckoning the newcomer to come to land. 'That's Jon, one of my cousins,' the Miskito explained. 'He's been away on a fishing trip.'

Dan hurried down the slope of the beach to greet his relative, and to Jacques's astonishment, as the newcomer stepped out of his canoe Dan fell flat on his face on the sand. For a moment Jacques thought that his friend had tripped. But then the Miskito got to his feet, and his cousin also dropped prone in front of Dan, and lay spreadeagle and face down for the space of a few heartbeats, then stood up again. Next the two men threw their arms around one another and hugged tightly, each with his face pressed against the other's neck. Jacques, who had walked towards them, distinctly heard both men snuffling loudly and with gusto. His puzzlement must have shown, for when Dan introduced the Frenchman, he added, 'Don't look so surprised. That's our way of greeting someone we are fond of and have not seen for a long time. We call it kia walaia. It means "to smell, to understand".'

The two Miskito exchanged news and when Dan turned back to Jacques, he was looking thoughtful. 'Jon has been fishing to the north. He heard rumours of a party of white men travelling along the coast in pirogues. Three boatloads of them. They are coming this way, but very slowly, for they are weak and sickly. Also he says that a Spanish patrol ship was seen five days ago.'

Dan asked his cousin a few more questions, then added, 'My guess is that the men in the pirogues are English or French. If so, they should be warned about the Spanish patrol ship. Jon is willing to lend me his canoe if I want to go there to find out more. I could be back inside three days if this wind holds.' Dan seemed eager to make the trip.

Jacques considered for a moment before replying. 'All right then. I'll wait here for you.'

'In the meantime you can try out your turtle recipe on my cousin,' said Dan cheerfully.

The unidentified travellers were much closer than expected. Before noon on the second day Dan glimpsed the three pirogues. They were beached inside a river mouth less than thirty miles from where he had left Jacques. Cautiously Dan steered across the sandbar at the river mouth, keeping close under the bank so that the canoe's sail brushed the overhanging branches of the mangroves which stretched away in an unbroken wall on both sides of the estuary. When he reached the travellers' camp, the first person he saw was Hector. Moments later the two friends were greeting one another with astonished delight.

'How on earth did you get here?' the Miskito exclaimed as Hector helped him haul his canoe up on the muddy bank. 'I thought you were in Jamaica.'

T managed to get away and join the Bay Men,' Hector explained. 'But we were flooded out by a bad storm, and had to abandon the site. Coming down the coast we met up with these other logwood cutters. They had all suffered the same misfortune. We joined forces, keeping the largest of our boats. But it's been a difficult journey. We've been living on wild fruit and an occasional seabird we shot.'