He assumed a mock-worried look, puckering his brows and pretending to chew his fingernails. Will regarded him coldly.
'You could do that,' he agreed. Then he added, 'Tell me, is your first mate a good seaman?'
'Well, of course he is! I wouldn't have him with me, else,' the captain replied. 'Why do you ask?'
'We may need him to handle the ship when Halt throws you overboard,' Will replied mildly. The captain started to laugh, then saw the look on Will's face and stopped uncertainly.
'Halt becomes very bad-tempered when he's seasick,' Will told him. 'Particularly when people try to make sport of him.'
'Especially when people try to make sport of him,' Horace added.
The captain suddenly didn't look so sure of himself. 'I was only joking.'
Will shook his head. 'So was that Skandian who laughed at him.' He glanced at Horace. 'Remember what Halt did to him?'
Horace nodded seriously. 'It wasn't pretty.'
The captain looked from one to the other now. He'd had dealings with Skandians over the years. Most seafarers had. And he'd never met anyone who'd bested one.
'What did he do? Your friend, I mean?' he asked.
'He puked into his helmet,' Will said.
'Extensively,' Horace added.
The captain's jaw dropped as he tried to picture the scene. Will and Horace didn't bother to explain that Halt was wearing the borrowed helmet at the time, nor that he was under the protection of the massive Erak, future Oberjarl of the Skandians. So the captain assumed that the smallish, grey-bearded man in the bows had ripped the helmet off a giant Skandian's head and thrown up into it – an action that would normally be tantamount to suicide.
'And the Skandian? What did he do?'
Will shrugged. 'He apologised. What else could he do?'
The captain looked from Will to Halt, and back to Will. The young man's face was serious, with no sign that he was gulling the captain. The captain swallowed several times, then decided that, even if he were being deceived, it might be more kindly to let Halt suffer his seasickness in peace.
'Sail!'
The cry came from the masthead lookout. Instinctively, all three of them looked up at him. He was pointing behind them, arm outstretched to the south-east. Then they swung to follow that pointing arm. There was a low scud of sea mist further out to sea, but as they watched, a dark shape began to creep out of it, taking on firmer lines.
'Can you make her out?' the captain yelled.
The lookout shaded his eyes, peering more carefully at the following ship.
'Six oars a side… and a square mains'l. She's coming up on us fast. Headreaching on us too!'
The strange ship was running before the wind, and rowing strongly as well. Headreaching meant she was able to aim for a point in advance of the Sparrow, and reach it before them. There was no way they could avoid her.
'Can you make her out?' the captain repeated. There was a moment's hesitation.
'I think she's the Claw. The Black O'Malley's ship!' the lookout called. Will and Horace exchanged a worried glance.
'Then Halt was right,' Will said.
The morning after the confrontation with O'Malley in the tavern, Halt had roused his two companions early.
'Get dressed,' he told them briefly. 'We're heading back to Fingle Bay.'
'What about breakfast?' Horace asked grumpily, knowing what the answer was going to be.
'We'll eat on the way.'
'I hate it when we eat on the way,' Horace grumbled. 'It does terrible things to my digestion.' Nonetheless, he was an experienced campaigner. He dressed quickly, re-rolled his pack and buckled on his sword. Will was ready a few seconds after him. Halt looked them over, checking that they had all their equipment.
'Let's go,' he said and led the way downstairs. He paid the innkeeper for their stay and they made their way to the stables. The horses nickered a greeting as they entered.
'Halt,' Will asked, once they were on the road, 'why Fingle Bay?'
'We need a ship,' Halt told him.
Will glanced over his shoulder at the town they had just left. They were almost at the top of the hill and the forest of masts was clearly visible.
'There are ships here,' he pointed out and Halt looked at him sidelong.
'There are,' he agreed. 'And O'Malley is here as well. He already knows where we'll be going. I don't want him knowing when we go there.'
'You think he'd try to stop us, Halt?' Horace asked.
The Ranger nodded. 'I'm sure he would. In fact, I'm sure he will. But if he doesn't know when we leave, it may mean we can give him the slip. Besides, the shipmasters in Fingle Bay are a little more honest than that nest of smugglers and thieves back there.'
'Only a little?' Will asked, hiding a grin. He knew Halt had a poor opinion of shipmasters in general – probably due to the fact that he hated travelling by sea.
'No shipmaster is too honest,' Halt replied dourly.
At Fingle Bay, they'd contracted with the master of the Sparrow, a wide-beamed merchantman with enough space for them and their three horses. When the captain heard their destination, he frowned.
'Craiskill River?' he said. 'A smuggler's den. Still, it's a good spot for a landing. Probably why the smugglers use it so often. I'll want extra if we're going there.'
'Agreed,' said Halt. He felt it reasonable to pay the man extra for the risk he was going to take. But not quite as much extra as the captain seemed to think it was worth. Eventually, they settled on a fee and Halt counted it out. Then he added three more gold pieces to the pile on the table in front of them.
The captain cocked an eye at it. 'What's this?'
Halt shoved the money towards him. 'That's for keeping your mouth shut,' he said. 'I'd like to leave after dark and I don't want people knowing where we're headed.'
The shipmaster shrugged.
'My lips are sealed,' he said, then, turning away, he bellowed a string of curses and instructions at several crew members who were loading barrels into the ship's hold.
Will grinned. 'That's a lot of noise for sealed lips,' he remarked.
Now, here they were, a few kilometres from their destination, and O'Malley had found them.
His ship was faster and handier than theirs. It was designed to outrun King's vessels sent to intercept it. And it carried a larger crew then the Sparrow. Will could see their heads lining the bulwarks and see the occasional glint of weapons. At the raised stern, he could make out O'Malley himself, straining at the tiller and keeping the Claw on course.
'We can't outrun them, can we?'
Will started in surprise at Halt's voice, close behind him. He turned to see that the Ranger had left his post in the bow and was now intent on the ship pursuing them. He was pale, but he seemed in control of himself now.
Years ago, on the long trip to Hallasholm, Will remembered discussing seasickness with Svengal, Erak's first mate.
'You need something to take your mind off it,' the burly Skandian had told him. 'When you've got something else to focus on, you don't have time to be seasick.'
It seemed he had been right. Halt's attention was fixed on the smuggler's craft behind them. He seemed to have forgotten his uncertain stomach.
The captain was shaking his head in answer to Halt's question. 'No. We can't outrun them. He's faster than us, and he can point up higher into the wind than I can. He'll either drive us down onto the reef or…' He stopped, not liking the alternative.
'Or what?' Horace asked. He loosened his sword in its scabbard. He'd seen the armed men aboard the Claw as well.
'Or else he'll ram us. The prow of his ship is reinforced. Rumour is he's sunk more than one ship that way.' He glared at Halt. 'If you'd told me that O'Malley would come after you I'd never have taken you on board.'