The heat and humidity in the shed were stifling. A small window was open high in the back, but little breeze came in through it. Rita saw a short, muscular man with a slick bald head standing by the window. A very short, slender man with rather ordinary, Western European features was sitting motionless on a small keg.
“That’s him, ain’t he, Roland?” Ned nodded toward the silent figure.
“Must be,” said Roland, looking him over. “Can’t be many fellows his size in Port Royal. Did you ask him his name? Who are you, fellow?”
“Don’t waste your time,” said Ned. “He’s real obedient most times, like if you tell him to sit or walk or whistle a tune. But if you ask him his name or where he’s been or anything personal-like, he don’t make a sound.”
Rita tensed, suddenly looking more closely at the seated figure.
“Funny. But I suppose we can make him talk if we want, now, can’t we?”
“We ain’t tried, Jim and me,” said Ned. “Since we nabbed him for you, we didn’t want to risk hurting him.”
“He’s a tough little bird,” said Baldy Jim. “He ain’t complained once about the heat in here. Ain’t even broke out a sweat that I can see.”
“What’s your name?” Roland asked him.
The seated figure looked up at him but said nothing.
“Where did you find him?” Roland was still looking at the prisoner.
“A couple o’ fellows saw him creeping around down here last night,” said Baldy Jim.
“What was he doing?” Roland asked.
“Well, he didn’t have no clothes and he was digging around in a rag heap. He found an old pair of breeches there and put ‘em on. That’s when our pals nabbed him and brought him to me. We all had the word from you to be on the lookout for him.”
Roland nodded thoughtfully.
Rita knew the seated figure was MC 2. Everything she had heard and seen fit his description: he was small of stature; he had appeared without clothing; he was obedient under the Second Law. Yet if, instead of ordering him to provide information, they simply posed questions, he was free to ignore them.
Rita had to decide what to do. For the moment, she wanted to stay with Roland. Since he seemed to be in charge of MC 2, she could stay with Roland and keep track of MC 2 as well. Then, when she was ready, she could simply call Hunter on her communicator and arrange for him to apprehend MC 2.
She concluded that Roland, despite the arguments of the group, must be looking for some man of his own time who fit MC 2’s description. Certainly she didn’t see how an English buccaneer in Port Royal could be “on the lookout,” as Baldy Jim had said, for a robot.
Roland leaned past her to look out the doorway. She watched his face and saw that he looked all the way down the waterfront again, carefully. He said nothing, however, and moved back inside the shed.
“Look, Ned,” said Roland. “Do you happen to know if any ships are heading out soon? Like maybe the Hungry Hawk? Captain Quinn asked me to crew with him a few days ago, and he’s still in the harbor.”
“That’s right,” said Ned. “Quinn is sailing on the midday tide, but he has a full crew. Baldy Jim here tried to join him and they put him off.”
“All right,” Roland said quickly, tossing them both another coin. “Here’s what we’ll do. Bring a dinghy around, quick. Quinn owes me a few favors. We’re going to the rag heap, then we’ll meet you at the dock.”
“Right-o,” said Ned.
All the humans left the shed. MC 2 remained impassively on the keg. Rita couldn’t talk to him alone, and she didn’t want the buccaneers, even Roland, to know that she had special knowledge about their captive.
“I’ll watch him,” said Roland, “No need to lock it.”
While the other two men went to find a dinghy, Roland led Rita without a word to a pile of refuse on the far side of the shed. Most of it was rags, but he pulled out a couple of torn articles of clothing that were basically still whole. He tossed them to her.
“You’re much too ladylike, sweet lady. We’re going on board a ship. Look as ragged and dirty as you can, and like a cabin boy if possible.”
A thrill of excitement hit Rita all at once. She was actually going on board a pirate ship about to set sail. Anxiously, she shook out the old clothes he tossed her. Finally she found a pair of loose, baggy pants, a tattered, patched man’s shirt, and a torn leather vest that she could wear over it.
“These will fit,” said Rita, with a reluctant, wry smile.
“Change in the shed,” said Roland. “I’ll have our friend come out and stand with me.”
9
Soon Rita was dressed in filthy, baggy clothes, carrying her others in a tight bundle. She followed Roland and MC 2 to the nearest dock. Ned and Baldy Jim were waiting there with a dinghy that tossed lightly on the waves.
“Get in, Shorty,” Ned said to MC 2.
MC 2 obeyed without speaking and found a seat in the middle. Roland helped Rita climb down into the boat, then followed her. The buccaneers pushed off and began to row. Roland also took an oar and pointed to another for MC 2, who took it obediently.
Rita breathed in the sea air and let the spray hit her as it came over the side of the boat. Slowly but steadily, they drew nearer the big anchored ships. She searched her memory for the political situation in the Caribbean in 1668.
England, France, and Spain were at peace with each other. That meant the buccaneers couldn’t get legal commissions from the governor of Jamaica as privateers. So when their money ran low, they would just go out and pirate a ship on their own, as outlaws. As long as their prey was not British, however, they had some confidence that the governor would look the other way.
Soon Rita saw that they were rowing for a brigantine named the Hungry Hawk. It was a two-masted square-rigger, well-weathered. The ship had not seen fresh paint for a long time, but the sails and ropes were in good condition. Sailors on board saw them coming and began yelling to each other.
“Ahoy!” Roland cupped his hands around his mouth. “Ahoy the Hungry Hawk. Where’s Captain Quinn?”
The sailors shouted for their captain, who came striding to the rail. Rita was hoping, despite her historical knowledge, that he might be a wild-looking character with a villainous stare, but of course she knew better than to expect that much melodrama. Captain Quinn was a man of average height and medium build with a brown beard. He wore a plain linen shirt and knee breeches, like most of his buccaneer colleagues, but he also wore a broad-brimmed hat with a blue plume.
“You’re too late, Roland,” called Captain Quinn. “We have a full crew already.”
“I have some trouble,” Roland shouted back. “And a couple of friends with me.”
Captain Quinn frowned and studied the group in the dinghy. “How many altogether?”
“Three of us. We need to get out of Port Royal for a bit. Can you help?”
“Come on, then.” Captain Quinn waved for his men to throw down a rope ladder.
Rita could see that Roland’s need to leave town was the kind of argument that Captain Quinn and the other buccaneers understood easily. She waited to see what Roland wanted her to do, remembering that she was masquerading as a cabin boy if the buccaneers would buy that. If they didn’t, she would have to hope that Roland could protect her on board the ship.
Roland grabbed the rope ladder and climbed up a few rungs. Then he motioned for Rita to follow. She took hold of the rough, thick rope carefully and felt the lowest rung sag slightly under her weight. When she started climbing, though, she found it fairly easy to do.
“You next,” Roland called down to MC 2.
MC 2 obediently began to follow Rita. After what seemed like a very long, slow, clumsy climb, she finally reached the rail of the ship. Roland took her arm and helped her over the rail onto the deck, then did the same with MC 2.
“Captain, these two young fellows are Rye and Shorty,” said Roland, tapping Rita and MC 2 on the shoulder in turn. “They don’t speak much and I like it that way. But they’ll do as I say on board.”