Dan could see that the survivors were in a bad way. There were about twenty men in the party and they looked emaciated. One man was shivering with fever. 'There's a Spanish cruiser in the area. You know what will happen if they catch the Bay Men,' he warned Hector.
'But they've resolved to go no further until they've filled their bellies. That's why they decided to stop here in the estuary. They intend to go inland and hunt wild cattle or pigs, if they can find them.'
Dan shook his head. 'That's foolish. The Spaniards could be here by then. I'll fetch meat for them.'
'Jezreel!' Hector called out, 'I want you to meet a good friend of mine. This is Dan. He was with me in Barbary.'
The prize fighter's glance took in the Miskito's long black hair and the narrow face with its high cheekbones and dark, sunken eyes like polished pebbles. 'Did I hear you say that you can get food for us?'
Hector glanced into the Miskito's canoe. 'You haven't even brought a musket with you.'
'I won't need one. This is my cousin's canoe and he left his fishing gear in it. But you'll have to help me.'
Mystified, Hector was about to step into the bow of the canoe when Dan stopped him. 'No, your place is in the stern,' he said. 'I'll tell you what to do.'
Under Dan's instructions, Hector hoisted the little sail and together the two men rode the river current out across the bar and to the sea. Instead of heading out to the fishing grounds as Hector had expected, Dan told him to steer close along the shore. 'Stay in the shallows, close to the mangroves,' he instructed.
Occasionally Dan rose to his feet and stood in the bow, silently scanning the surface of the water. Every time he did this, Hector feared that the canoe would capsize through his own lack of skill as steersman. But Dan shifted his weight to counteract any clumsiness and, sensing his friend's uneasiness, would soon sit down again.
'What are we looking for?' Hector asked his friend. He spoke in a whisper for it seemed to him that Dan was listening as well as watching for his mysterious prey.
An hour passed, and then another, and still Dan had not found what he was searching for. Then, suddenly, he held up his hand in warning. His gaze was fixed on something in the water, not fifty yards away and close to the edge of the mangroves. He reached down into the bottom of the canoe, not taking his eyes off what he had seen, and eased out from the bilge a straight staff about eight or nine feet long. With his free hand Dan groped between his feet and produced what appeared to be an oversized weaver's bobbin wrapped around with several fathoms of cord. The free end of the cord was lashed to a barbed metal spike as long as his forearm. Carefully Dan pushed the shank of the spike into a socket in one end of the staff. Then he unwound enough cord until he could slip the bobbin over the butt of the pole. Now he rose to his feet and stood in the canoe, the harpoon in his hand. Using it as a pointer, he showed Hector the direction that he should steer.
Hector squinted against the glare of the late-afternoon sunlight as he tried to make out the target. But there was nothing unusual. The water was green-grey and opaque, cloudy with particles of vegetable matter. He thought he saw a slight ripple, but could not be sure. The canoe slipped forward silently.
Ahead of him Dan had moved into the classic posture of a man about to throw a javelin: his left arm pointed forward, his right arm bent. The hand which held the harpoon shaft at its balance point was close beside his ear. He stood poised, ready.
Hector heard a faint breath, the puffing sound of lungs expelling air. He leaned sideways, trying to see around Dan, hoping to identify the source of the sound. His sudden movement upset the balance of the boat even as Dan threw.
The harpoon soared through the air. But as it left Dan's hand, Hector knew that he had spoiled his friend's aim. He saw Dan twist his body, swivelling to keep the direction of his throw. 'I'm sorry, Dan,' he blurted, apologising for his clumsiness.
His words were lost in the explosive upheaval at the spot where the harpoon had struck the water. The metal spike and the first two feet of shaft plunged out of view. A second later the surface of the sea rose up in a great, roiling mass. A large grey-brown shape surged upwards, water sluicing off a rounded back. Hardly had this shape appeared than it sank downwards almost as quickly, returning into the murky water, and the sea was closing over it in a small whirlpool. The entire length of the harpoon vanished, dragged downward.
The Miskito spun round, plucked the canoe's short mast out of its place and hastily wrapped the sail around the spar. Dropping the untidy bundle on the thwarts he picked up a paddle, knelt in the bottom of the canoe, and began to paddle with all his strength. 'Over there!' he shouted back at Hector who was trying to follow his friend's example. Looking forward, Hector saw that the harpoon's shaft had risen back to the surface, and was floating free a few yards ahead of them. Leaning forward as the canoe came level with the pole, Dan retrieved it. Both the metal spike and the wooden spool were gone. With a clatter Dan flung the shaft into the bottom of the canoe and was already scanning the surface of the water again. He gave a grunt of satisfaction and pointed. A little way ahead floated the wooden spool. It was spinning rapidly in the water, the coils of line unreeling and making the spool bob and twist as if it had a life of its own. The line was being stripped from the reel at a great pace.
'Come on!' urged Dan. 'We must get that too!' He was digging furiously at the water with his paddle. They reached the gyrating spool when only a few turns of the line remained. Dan dropped his paddle and threw himself forward to grab the bobbin. In one swift movement he had hoisted it inboard and jammed the spool under a thwart as he called, 'Hang on, Hector!'
An instant later Hector felt himself flung backward, the thwart striking him painfully in the small of the back as the canoe suddenly shot forward. The line had snapped taut, droplets of water squeezing from the fibres. It had become a tow rope linked to an unseen and powerful underwater force. The canoe swayed from side to side as it tore onward, lurching wildly. The pull of the line was both forward and down, and for a terrifying moment Hector thought that the entire canoe would be dragged underwater as the bow dipped and the water rose to barely an inch below the rim of the dugout.
For three or four minutes the mad, careering rush went on. In the bow Dan anxiously watched the line where it was pulled taut across the edge of the canoe. Hector was sure that the cord was too thin to resist the strain. He wondered what would happen if it snapped suddenly.
Then, without warning, the water ahead of the canoe again burst into swirling turbulence. The grey-brown shape emerged in a welter of foam, and this time Hector distinctly heard the air rushing out of animal lungs. 'Palpa!' shouted Dan in triumph. 'A big one.'
It took a full hour before the harpooned creature was exhausted and by that time the canoe had been dragged far along the coast. Gradually, the intervals between each surfacing of their prey grew shorter as the animal came up for air more frequently. With each appearance Hector could see more of it. At first it reminded him of a small whale, then of one of the seals he had seen when they hauled themselves out on the rocks off his native Ireland. But this animal was much larger than any seal he had known, seven or eight feet long, and far stouter. When it turned its head to look back at the hunters, he saw long pendulous lips, piggy eyes and a sprouting of whiskers.
Finally the creature gave up the struggle. It no longer had the strength to dive. It lay wallowing on the surface, close enough for Dan to pull in on the line and haul the canoe right alongside. From his cousin's fishing gear he produced a second harpoon head, shorter and more stubby this time, and fitted it to the staff. He chose his moment and stabbed down several times. A stain of blood spread in the water. There were a few last convulsive heaves. Then the creature lay still. 'Palpa. Your sailors call it sea cow,' said Dan with evident satisfaction. 'And a good fat one too. There will be enough meat to feed everyone.'