"With guns, Will, aye! Not with pea shooters or catapults! This ship's come from halfway round the world, maybe, and ships like that go armed. Some captains and some crews don't take kindly to being received by dogs like us who only want to send them out to sea once more. They want the land to walk on, not deck planks, and breasts and bellies underneath them instead of hammocks! You'd fight us, wouldn't you? I would!"
The sad truth, though, was different. When Gunning eased Biter off the wind a mile below them, so that whichever way she steered she could not slip past, the quarry tried no avoiding action nor did her people make a move for any of her guns. Biter did not make a stopping signal, but broke out her colours which was message clear enough. The number of men on the victim's deck was sparse, but after a short while they manned the bunts and clewlines and reduced the working canvas. Then, ponderously, the ship hove to. Kaye eyed her through a spyglass, then told his two midshipmen, whom he had summoned to his side, that she was named the Katharine, and that all three of them would go on board.
As Gunning's people brought her round and hove her to, the Biter's Navy men were almost baying. They shortened up the bow ropes of the towing boats, jumping down into them to bail them out and unlash the oars and ship the rudders. Gunning lay half a mile off the Katharine, right downwind in case they had a thought of going for a run, but when the boats were crewed the gap had shortened comfortably. It was not a big sea running despite the briskness of the breeze, so the people discarded their canvas frocks to free them for a sharp hot row then, hopefully, hot work on board. Coxswain Sankey had his men over side the first the others knew better than to beat Kaye's crew and the stout lieutenant was discreetly shadowed down in case he slipped and made himself a fool. Sam went with Jem Taylor, Will with the shock head boatswain's mate, and the strongest oarsmen vied with each other, for once, to do the work.
It was not a race, precisely, but they pulled like hell, with Will thrilling at each surge of power as the men dug in their blades. He took the tiller, to Eaton's surprise, and ducked and wove her round the bigger breaking crests with great dexterity. For reasons he did not care to question both Behar and Tom Tilley had elected for his crew, but although they struck him as both dangerous and intractable, they were also the biggest of the Biter's company, Tilley by some considerable margin. He took the stroke oar, and although he dug his blade in far too deep, his mighty strength compensated for the added difficulty, and indeed he had the ash shaft bending like a hazel switch. His deep-set, piggy eyes gazed piercingly into the distance over Will's head, and the breath rasped through his wet and twisted lips. Although they could have got there first, Will had them ease as they came inside the lee, which earned him a look of naked contempt from out the little eyes. Sam slacked off also, though, so Kaye's could be the first to touch. The Katharine's men, knowing they were fairly beaten, had put ladders over side and warps to catch. Or maybe left them there, from the accommodation of the free trade lugger. Half Kaye's men swarmed on board, then turned to ease his passage up if needed, then with him on deck Sam Holt, Jem Taylor, Eaton and Will Bentley scurried up, in a scrummage with their men. Josh Baines, an idle rat, was told off to watch the painters and stop the boats from coming up too hard against each other or the ship.
Beaten they were, and beaten they appeared, in truth. The decks were worn and dirty, the canvas overhead bleached and sere, and patched in many places. The hold was open, and the well deck strewn with cases the smugglers had not had time to barter for and load, but there seemed hardly crew enough to handle it. There was a man on the quarterdeck who might be the captain, a younger officer abaft of him, a sailor at the helm, and half a dozen others forward, watching warily from the raised fo'c'sle deck. The other thing that struck as odd was that the officers had pistols in their belts, while three seamen carried clubs. The Biter men, some with short cudgels at the belt, some with a cutlass doled out the day before, looked about them eagerly, waiting for a fight. To Will, the chances were invisible.
Even Kaye was nonplussed by the sparseness of the reception. He moved aft slowly, glancing at the clutter from the holds. When he faced the captain he took up his normal stance, of well-fed arrogance. From a pocket inside his tunic he pulled out his warrant.
"I have a paper here, sir," he said pompously, "that explains my rights and duties. I am Lieutenant Richard Kaye, commanding HM tender Biter. You are required to present your people to me for the purpose I may select them for the service of the King. Any man with valid passport or protection is, of course, exempt, and I can promise you there will be no irregularity in my choice. Now sir, who are you, sir? Master, captain, owner? I would appreciate the courtesy of a name."
The captain of the Katharine was an old and tired-looking man. He was tall and thin with stooped shoulders, and his facial skin was pale and papery. He looked ill, as if he had been long afflicted, and his eyes were full of exhaustion, or pain. He did not extend a hand.
"I am the captain. Captain James McEwan. There is nothing for you, sir. In twelve weeks at sea we have lost thirty, from the scurvy."
It was strange upon the deck, thought William. The Katharine, hove to, had settled in the troughs and taken up a rhythmic roll, while falling down to leeward slow but constantly. Each time her weather side rose high the wind cut off, then as it dropped, the chill blast resumed, sometimes with a spattering of spray. It was two rolls before Kaye continued his questioning.
"So how many seamen do you claim are left, sir? Why do you carry arms? You are not so ill, I notice, that you cannot trade your owner's hard-won goods. Or was that black lugger the undertaker's men?"
Some of the nearer Biters laughed, but their hearts were not in it. They wanted action and it seemed they would not get it, and they were impatient also, because they did not believe.
James McEwan raised a hand as if to remonstrate, but then he dropped it to his side.
"The lugger," he said. His voice was indistinct. He tried to gather strength, to speak more clearly. "That's why we carry weapons. For fear they "
Then another voice cut in, and it was drenched in fury. Everyone was startled, not least Kaye, who jerked his large head back to find its source. It was the younger officer, two yards behind the captain, his face now flushed with anger, his left hand gripped among the mizzen shrouds.
"For fear that they were murderers," was what he said. His eyes were fixed on Kaye's and he was almost panting. "We have lost our men, we are helpless. How did we know they only wanted contraband? How did we know they were not on for piracy, their ship looked like a pirate, they looked like blackguards, to a man. What should we do? Give up?"
The old man made a gesture meant to calm. The officer's lips were a grim line, breath hissing through his nostrils. Kaye was languid.
"Pirates? Off the Essex coast, this day and age? Pah." He turned to Holt and Bentley. "We do not believe them," he said, almost grandly. "Take your men and do a search. The hold, the fo'c'sle, don't overlook the lazaret. Sankey, round up those men up forward. If any claim exemption, bring them to me with papers. No papers, no escape."
"They are all I have!" Captain McEwan's voice was high and harsh, then cracked. He began to cough. Bentley and Holt, matching the reaction of their men, ignored it, on the run. Sam took the stern accommodation, Will the main hatchway, while the boatswain led a party forward to where the Katharine's men would have their quarters. As Will went below, he saw that Kaye had drawn a pistol from his pocket, short but of a heavy bore. He also saw the younger officer move forward, and for a moment held himself from dropping down the ladder to the hold.