“It’s no use, Neil,” Philip said. “There’s no nonviolent way to do it. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Neil stared gloomily at his glass. Philip was one of the few men he’d met who perceived the situation since the war as he did: a struggle to the finish for individual survival, or rather group survival; Neil was committed not simply to himself but to Jeanne and to all who sailed on Vagabond, and now, although the commitment was unspoken, indeed perhaps unconscious, he was committed to Philip and Sheila too. But much as he liked Philip, he was less enthusiastic about getting involved with Oscar and Scorpio, although if Philip were to become Scorpio’s captain, he would go along.
“So what dishonest ways are there?” Neil replied. “I haven’t seen much on St. Thomas worth stealing.”
“I’ve been thinking about our situation a great deal,” said Philip. “As Samuel Johnson said, ‘The prospect of being hanged wonderfully concentrates the mind.’”
“And?” asked Neil.
“Both of us have two basic requirements: a large supply of food for a long voyage and weapons and ammunition,” said Philip. “Without these two there’s not much hope in setting out.”
“Especially food,” said Oscar. “We’re already starving.”
“Weapons as well,” said Philip, flushing slightly but continuing to address Neil, sitting opposite him. “To get south we’re going to have to run the gauntlet: the twenty or so islands of the Antilles, each of them home base for a pirate ship or two.”
“How do you know that?” Oscar asked.
“I’ve been listening to the shortwave for a month. I’ve seen ships arriving stripped of everything but one sail. I’ve heard Maydays from vessels under attack. I haven’t stayed here because I’m afraid of the sea or of starving. I’m afraid of the land, of the men who come from it.”
“All right,” said Neil, “but where in God’s name can we get weapons? I thought you told me there wasn’t even a black market in them.”
“We get weapons, old boy,” said Philip, brightening as if at last they’d come to what he wanted to talk about, “from the pirates.”
Neil examined Philip’s glowing face. “How?”
“I’ve sniffed out one of the pirate ships,” he answered, becoming serious again. “It’s a forty-two-foot Hatteras docked at Martin’s Marina. Knowing what ships have been hit and when, and where Mollycoddle was at the time, I figured it out. That plus rumors in town and the unexplained wealth of her captain and crew.”
“Mollycoddle?” asked Neil.
“A larky name for a pirate ship, eh? Yet Forester and the others, with no assets other than that ship, never lack for petrol, food, liquor, or barter goods necessary to buy women. They live like kings in a large estate they’ve taken over outside the city. Their sudden prosperity has only come upon them since the war began, since the breakdown of government has made piracy almost a risk-free crime.”
“You plan to get weapons from them?” Oscar broke in.
“Precisely. We’ll hit their ship,” Philip replied.
“Is this Forester, Michael Forester, an Englishman?”
“I believe so.”
“Jesus Christ, count me out. That guy and his gang are killers. I mean they’ve shot people on the streets of Charlotte Amalie, and no one does a thing. Even the blacks are afraid of them.”
“I can understand your concern,” said Philip, flushing, “but when you’ve heard my plan, perhaps you’ll change your mind.”
“You plan to raid their ship?” Oscar persisted.
“Yes.”
“They’ll outgun us three to one,” said Oscar.
“Not when there’s only one or two men aboard.”
“When is that?” asked Neil.
“Every night the ship’s in port,” said Philip, again looking at Neil. “They live on their estate. They always leave a guard on Mollycoddle, often two, I think, but I don’t consider one or two overconfident guards an insurmountable obstacle.”
“Do they have radio contact with the estate?” asked Neil.
“I believe they probably do, yes, in fact,” agreed Philip.
“You think they keep their weapons aboard?”
“Some certainly,” said Philip. “Some on the estate. But the ship will be much easier to hit.”
“Food?”
“I’m sure the Mollycoddle is kept well stocked.”
“You steal the ship’s weapons and food and then what?”
“We sail off into the sunset!” said Philip triumphantly.
Neil frowned, considering all this.
“You’re crazy,” said Oscar. “There’ll be a dozen well armed pirates with a twenty-two-knot Hatteras chasing us to give us a cheery good-bye.”
“We scuttle the Hatteras,” said Philip confidently.
“They have other boats,” suggested Oscar.
“They’re not certain who hit them,” countered Philip.
Oscar shrugged, scowling.
“Let’s hope so,” said Neil.
“Also, we are now two boats, both armed to the teeth, sailing side by side. A rather unappealing target.”
“Not when someone’s mad,” said Oscar.
“True,” said Philip, flushing, “there are risks involved in piracy, my boy.”
Philip was looking at Neil, his face glowing with excitement, while Neil watched the two young crew men aft getting excited as one of them reeled in a fish.
“It’s too dangerous,” said Oscar.
“There are risks involved in piracy,” Philip repeated, looking at Neil, “but not as many as in being the victims of piracy.”
“Screw it,” said Oscar. “Those guys won’t bother me. I haven’t got anything worth taking.”
Grimacing, Philip continued to look at Neil.
“I’m depending on you to iron out the military wrinkles in my little plan,” he said to him. “I can but point the way.”
“Any particular time frame?” Neil asked after a silence.
“Ah, yes, that,” said Philip, suddenly frowning. “I’m afraid we may decide there’s a bit of a rush. Three things. First, I heard a rumor today, just a rumor so far, that quite a few cases of that plague have appeared right here in the city.” Neil stared at him in dismay.
“Not too pretty,” Philip went on. “Secondly, let’s face it, we’re none of us getting any fatter. Our larders are already bare. I believe we should strike as soon as we can.”
Neil nodded. “And the. third thing?” he asked.
“The luxury cruise ship the Norway is scheduled to arrive here later this afternoon.”
“My God,” said Oscar. “How do you know?”
“Fred Turner on the Spright told me an hour ago. The Norway had been hung up in Santo Domingo since the war began, but the U.S. Navy has given her a huge supply of diesel fuel from its depot on Vieques, and the Norway is now carrying about five hundred Navy personnel.”
“What’s it doing here?” Oscar asked.
“Well… that we can only surmise. But clearly it will be taking on passengers. The sight of more rich people sailing off on a lovely white cruise ship is not likely to be greeted with enthusiasm.”
“Maybe we could get aboard?” suggested Oscar.
Neither Neil nor Philip commented on this.
“It would be a lot safer than messing with Michael Forester,” Oscar persisted.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Philip.
“Well, all I know is that if it’s a choice of starving or tangling with pirates, I’ll choose starving,” said Oscar, standing up.
“I understand, Oscar,” said Philip. “I respect your decision. But… if things work out, do you still want me to assume command of Scorpio?”