“Where’s the Hungry Hawk?” Steve asked. “Maybe we can sign on with Captain Quinn. I bet he’s going, too.”
“We have the same problem with him,” said Hunter. “Captain Quinn also anchored well away from shore. We may have to build another version of the Jamaica Jane to follow them.”
“Oh, no,” said Steve. “I hope not.” He looked around frantically, and pointed to another ship, showing some lights nearby. “That ship hasn’t weighed anchor yet. And it’s a lot closer to the docks. I can even spot some of the guys on board-you see them, when they walk within the range of lamps on the deck?”
“Maybe it’s not part of the fleet,” said Jane.
“It is riding low in the water,” said Hunter. “It was probably loaded today for the voyage, like so many others.”
“Steve,” Jane said anxiously. “I think that’s Captain Morgan.” She pointed. “Look next to that lamp right by the rail, in the big plumed hat.”
“Yes!” Steve took a deep breath and shouted. “Captain Morgan! Captain Morgan!”
Hunter watched the man in the plumed hat. He showed no sign of hearing Steve. “The breaking of the surf is drowning you out. I could shout loud enough for him to hear, but it would be humanly impossible and someone might notice.”
Steve turned to look up and down the waterfront. “There!” He pointed and ran back down the length of the dock.
Hunter jogged after him, trying to figure out what Steve had seen. Jane ran with him. At the end of the pier, Steve turned to his left and kept running.
“You there! You guys!” Steve was yelling and waving as he ran.
Hunter saw a couple of buccaneers sitting on the near end of another pier, leaning against a discarded pile of rotted canvas as they drank out of tankards. A dinghy tied to the pier swayed gently on the waves near them. The two buccaneers looked up over their tankards in surprise at Steve.
“Is that your boat?” Steve demanded, slowing down.
“Who wants to know?” One buccaneer, sporting a large, gold hoop earring, grinned at him with broken teeth, then took another drink.
“I’ll buy it from you.” Steve pulled up in front of them, breathing hard.
“He wants to buy it from us,” said the other buccaneer mockingly, closing one eye to look at Steve. He tugged thoughtfully on a thin, scraggly beard.
Hunter slowed down as he came up behind Steve. Jane stopped with him. The two buccaneers glanced at them cautiously.
“How much do you want for the dinghy?” Steve asked.
“A handful of gold coin,” said the man with broken teeth belligerently. “If you want it so bad.”
“We’ll give you one gold coin for it,” said Steve. “And it’s not worth that much.”
“Nay, nothing doing,” said the buccaneer. “Prices went up all over town when that Spanish treasure came into port this morning. And you sound awful anxious.”
“Aren’t you missing your ship?” Steve jerked a thumb toward the harbor. “You’re being left behind too.”
“Maybe we don’t care. Or maybe we just don’t plan to go to sea tonight.”
“All right. Two gold pieces. You can buy a lot of rum for that.”
“I got this feeling that your ship is about to weigh anchor too. Maybe you three are the ones in a hurry, eh?”
Steve glanced out toward Captain Morgan’s ship. Then he turned to Hunter. “He has a point. What do you think?”
Hunter untied the scarf holding his share of loot and poured a modest handful of coins into his palm. Then he walked over to the buccaneer who had done most of the talking and looked down at him. The buccaneer’s eyes widened as he looked up at Hunter’s immense body towering over him.
“Is this enough?” Hunter spoke in a cold, firm, authoritative voice as he dropped the coins into the buccaneer’s tankard, where they splashed into his rum.
“Aye,” said the buccaneer hoarsely, his throat suddenly gone dry.
“Hurry,” Hunter said to Steve and Jane, moving quickly toward the dinghy. He untied the line and held it as they carefully climbed down and sat in the stem. Then he joined them in the boat and pushed off, hard. As the dinghy angled away from the dock, Hunter took the center seat facing the stem and grabbed two oars. He positioned them carefully and then began to row.
“Say! Look at the fellow on the oars,” said the bearded buccaneer behind them, in surprise. “He can really move that boat.”
“Aw, so what?” His friend snickered. “We did all right, for a boat that wasn’t ours anyhow.”
“Do you want us to take an oar?” Steve asked. “Jane and I could each take an oar. I see another set of oarlocks behind you.”
“No,” said Hunter. “I can maintain our desired speed and direction more consistently this way.” He looked around to see if Captain Morgan’s ship had moved. It was not yet under way.
Hunter concentrated on the flexibility of the oars as he stroked, He was strong enough to row harder, but risked snapping off the oars if he did so, No one spoke.
The dinghy moved through the waves steadily, with agonizing slowness. At least the waves were moderate and the wind was low. Facing him in the stern, Steve and Jane looked into the distance ahead anxiously. At last, Hunter could hear the creaking of the sailing ship growing closer.
“Captain Morgan! Ahoy!” Steve shouted. “Ahoy the ship!”
“Ahoy the boat! Who’s there?” The voice was gruff and suspicious.
Hunter turned to look up. He adjusted his rowing to maintain the position of the dinghy. If they got too close to the hull of the ship, they would have trouble seeing the men who were up on deck.
“Steve and-and John, from last night,” called Steve. “Where’s Captain Morgan?”
“Not so fast,” said the buccaneer. He disappeared from sight. A moment later he reappeared. “The Captain says all right.” He threw a long rope ladder down the side of the hull.
Steve laughed with relief.
“I guess we made it,” said Jane.
Hunter maneuvered the dinghy against the hull and held its position. Steve started up the rope first, then Jane. Hunter remained in the boat until they had both climbed all the way over the rail. Meanwhile, the buccaneers above cranked down a couple of lines on a winch for Hunter to tie to the dinghy. After he had secured the lines, he ascended the rope ladder. By the time he was climbing over the rail, the buccaneers had already begun raising the dinghy.
“Always glad to have experienced buccaneers along,” Captain Morgan was saying to Steve and Jane. “And this is your friend. You are?…”
“I am Hunter, Captain.”
“Well met, Hunter, All right.” Captain Morgan turned and glanced around. “We’re almost ready. You three give a hand where you see the need.” He hurried away, calling to someone across the deck.
Some buccaneers were carrying crates of food below. Others were belaying kegs on deck with rope. Hunter saw a couple of men lifting a rolled sail and quickly joined them. Steve and Jane hurried to his side. Soon they were just part of the crew, working to get the ship under way.
20
Wayne had returned to the Old Laughing Lady before sundown. He had not yet told Captain Tomann that Roland was holding MC 2 hostage. The Captain had been busy all evening directing preparations for the upcoming voyage, so Wayne had easily avoided him. In the moonlight, Wayne stood on deck watching the Hungry Hawk a short distance away. He was sure that Roland had MC 2 on board there.
“A fine night for sailing, eh?” Captain Tomann came up next to him.
“Huh? Oh-it sure is, Captain. When do we leave?”
“We follow Captain Morgan out of port. The lookout is watching his ship.”
“So, where are we going this time?”
“I wish I knew! That crafty old Morgan won’t even tell his own crew, let alone the other captains.”
“And you’re following him anyway?”
“Aye, he’s always done well by us. I’m trusting him to raid some fat sleepy Spanish town-like his raid on Puerto Principe in Cuba last year.”
Wayne nodded.
“So what about our valuable friend? Did you get any leads on him in town?”