“They’re beautiful,” said Rita.
“You must have traveled by ship? That is, unless you were born and raised on Jamaica.”
“Uh-no, I’m not from Jamaica. But I don’t really know ships.”
“Let me help you. You see the biggest ones out there? Only two or three are in sight.”
“The three-masted square-riggers.” Again, Rita fought down a smile. From her book learning, she knew more about the ships of the era than Roland ever would. On the other hand, he had actually sailed them; she had never even seen a real one before.
“That’s right.” He pointed to one. “Those are the finest flagships of a buccaneer fleet. Each one is big enough to slug it out with even a naval frigate. They can also handle a long sea voyage.”
Rita pointed to some smaller ships that were also three-masted and square-rigged. “What are those, then? They look similar.” Of course, she knew very well what they were, but she wanted to keep him talking. Once he had explained the ships, she would no longer have to feign ignorance.
“Merchant ships, including the one I told you about a moment ago.” He winked at her. “Some are here trading legally. Others were, shall we say, brought here by those of us under the governor’s commission.”
“What do you call the bigger of the two-masted ships?” She pointed to one of them.
“Those are brigantines, fine and reliable workhorses. They can take different sails, too, at different times, to suit different conditions.”
“What about the little ones?”
“Ah! My personal favorites, those. The smaller two-masted ships are schooners, perfect in these waters for their speed and shallow draft. The smallest of all are single-masted sloops, the fastest ships on the water.”
“Why are there so many ships in the harbor? Is that normal?” She didn’t think it was, but of course the exact number would be changing day by day.
“Normal, is it?” Roland shrugged. “Ships come and go all the time.”
“Have you sailed on some of these?” Rita winked back at him, smiling. “Maybe on the governor’s commission and maybe without it?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Aye, that I have. A fine brigantine out there is captained by a man named Quinn. The Hungry Hawk is her name. I’ve sailed with Captain Quinn a number of times. When he needs a crew, I usually hear about it.”
“Do you always go?”
“If the mood strikes me, aye. I’m not bound to him. But he has a keen eye on the open sea. A man can make a profit with a good captain.”
“Roland!”
At the sound of a man’s voice, they both turned. A big, brawny man with a brown beard, wearing tattered knee breeches and nothing else, hurried toward them. He gave Rita a suspicious glance and she turned away to look at the ships again. She was still listening carefully, but she felt she had a better chance of overhearing something interesting if the two buccaneers thought she was distracted.
“What is it, Ned?” Roland glanced at Rita, lowering his voice. “No need to attract attention.”
“Aye, well.” He spoke lower, but Rita could still hear him. “I think we found him. That little fellow you were looking for. Want to see him?”
“That I do. Where is he?”
“Baldy Jim has him in a shed. You know the one?”
“I know it.” Roland drew a coin out of his pocket and pressed it into Ned’s large hand. “We’ll meet you there in a bit. Go back and make certain Baldy doesn’t lose him, all right?”
Ned nodded and rushed away.
Roland turned and studied Rita’s face.
What she had heard sounded like a kidnapping to her. She gave him an expression that she hoped was guileless. “Do you have more business to take care of?”
“Happens that I do,” said Roland. “It won’t be dangerous this time, though. Care to come along?”
“Sure!” Rita was surprised. She had expected him to tell her it was buccaneer business. “I’d love to.”
“All right, then. This way.”
As they walked, though, she felt that he was a little more subdued. Apparently something was on his mind. He was still pleasant and still smiling, but he didn’t point out any more sights.
They walked briskly up the waterfront after Ned. Soon they had left behind the piers and booths and reached a shipyard. There lumber, pitch, canvas, and hemp were stored with other items that ships needed to be outfitted and repaired.
Fewer people were around, but those Rita could see were all working on something. Roland nodded briefly to a couple of them who glanced up. He led her through a maze of the shipbuilding materials and broken, discarded refuse.
Roland walked up to a storage shed, kicking aside some old bits of rope. The shed was made of unfinished wood that was warped from the humidity and tropical sunlight. He rapped twice on the door.
The door opened and Ned stuck his head out. Then he pushed the door open wider, looking at Rita in surprise. He said nothing, though, and Roland held the door open for Rita.
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.”