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  In a matter of moments the Griffin turned sharply to come alongside the ship. The headsails started flapping wildly and the mainsail lost its shape: for a few moments there was only the flogging of canvas, then with a crash the Griffin slammed alongside and Ned bellowed: “Over with those grapnels!”

  The two ships began to draw apart for a few moments, then the grapnels sailed across the gap to hold the two ships together. Ned jumped on to the Griffin’s bulwarks to leap across to the Spanish ship, and even as he poised to regain his balance he registered that the four men had vanished.

  A few moments later the Spanish ship’s decks were swarming with Griffins and Ned looked forward: the second boat was still fifty yards away and – yes, it was being rowed more slowly: whoever was in charge of it was probably trying to make up his mind what to do.

  Then he heard the flogging of canvas and the hiss of a bow wave, and the Peleus passed across their stern, heading for the second ship. Thomas, waving a cutlass, shouted something cheerful that Ned could not distinguish.

  Ned then remembered seeing the name of the Spanish ship: he had seen but not registered the name painted on the transom in the last few moments as the Griffin swung alongside, and the name was one of those long Spanish ones, Santa Levirata y Aninimas.

  He suddenly realized that the men were simply standing round: there was no fighting, and coming towards him were four Spaniards, treading nervously as four Griffins followed them with cutlasses prodding their backs.

  Lobb was leading the procession, and as he reached Ned, he said: “We found these men hiding down in the after cabin. Are we taking prisoners?”

  “Keep them for the time being.” He glanced over the bow again and saw that the boat coming from the beach had now stopped; the men were resting on their oars. “We can question these chaps and see where the ships came from.”

  “Lucky we didn’t spit ’em,” Lobb commented. “They were singing such a mournful song we felt sorry for them.”

  Ned heard a heavy thud over to larboard and glanced up to see that the Peleus had just gone alongside the second ship, whose boat was still fifty yards short.

  At that moment the Phoenix sailed past on her way to tackle the third ship, and Ned just caught sight of Saxby standing aft with Martha Judd next to him. The Peleus was alongside her target and Ned was sure the ship was already captured: there was no crackle of muskets and pistols; he could not see men scrambling about the decks of either ship.

  Ned looked ahead and saw that all the boats had stopped rowing and at least two had turned and were heading back to the beach. Which, he realized, meant that they were abandoning the fourth ship.

  He inspected her with the perspective glass. She was very small and armed with only two guns. Her crew would be perhaps twenty-five men. Should he leave Lobb and his boarding party with the prize and go round to take the fourth ship? At the moment there were more than a hundred Spaniards stranded – either in the boats or on shore. If they were left without means of escaping, they would terrorize the villagers living here, and they would have to wait for the next Spanish ship to arrive to rescue them.

  So…why not leave the little fourth ship for them to escape in, to return whence they came? If they could not all sail in her at once – and she was probably too small – she could always make two trips.

  All he had to do was wait for Thomas and Saxby to complete their tasks. In fact he could go over and see Thomas now and give him his instructions.

  “Hoist out a boat,” he told Lobb. “I’m going over to the Peleus, and then I’ll probably go on to the Phoenix. In the meantime, make sure that our prize is ready to get under way – I shall want you to take her back to Port Royal.”

  Thomas was jubilant. Ned went on board the Peleus to find him grinning broadly and hear him say delightedly: “Well, Ned, a pirate captured and not a shot fired nor a cutlass used in anger.”

  “We did the same,” Ned said. “I imagine–” he gestured towards the Phoenix “–that Martha Judd has captured that one all by herself!”

  “Thomas wanted me to go below,” Diana said crossly. “What did Aurelia do?” she asked.

  “Well,” Ned said lamely, “I wanted her to go below but she refused.”

  “There you are!” Diana said triumphantly to Thomas. “And Martha Judd was on deck because I saw her when the Phoenix went by.”

  “I’d like to meet the man that could make Martha Judd go below,” Thomas muttered, “but Ned did say he wanted Aurelia to go below.”

  “You men,” Diana grumbled. “Frightened of ships that don’t fire a single shot in their own defence.”

  Ned had no time for Diana’s grumbles and said briskly: “Thomas, we’ll leave that last little ship for the Dons to escape in: she isn’t worth bothering with, and I don’t like the idea of marooning them here: they’ll start harrying the villagers.”

  Thomas nodded. “Prisoners are just a damned nuisance,” he declared. “There were half a dozen on board this ship – shall I send them over to the little one?”

  “Yes. I’ve some too, but I want to question them. Perhaps take them back to Port Royal.”

  “Don’t bother,” Thomas advised. “Question them and leave them here.”

  “Very well. You call in on Saxby while you ferry the prisoners across. Tell him to put a prize crew on board the ship he captured and be ready to sail for Port Royal the moment he sees the Griffin get under way.”

  The moment he was back on board the Griffin Ned shouted across to Lobb to send over the prisoners, who seemed convinced they were about to be hanged. Ned pointed to the most intelligent one and asked in Spanish: “What were you?”

  “The cook,” the man muttered. “Butcher, too. I was just waiting for the first turtle.”

  “When did your ship arrive here in this island?”

  The man counted on his fingers. “Eight days ago.”

  “Have you captured any ships?”

  The man shook his head. “We chased one on the second day, but she got away from us. English, she was.”

  “Where have you come from?”

  The man seemed puzzled by the question. “Why, from Cuba, of course.”

  “What port?”

  “Santiago. That’s where most of our families live.”

  “Who leads you all?”

  The man thought a moment, scratching his head. “Well, the captain of this ship, I suppose. The rest of them do what he says.”

  “Where is he now?”

  The cook gestured towards the shore. “He went off with the rest of them to catch turtle – and see if he could get some lobsters from the villagers.”

  “Do you think you are going to be executed?”

  “Yes,” the man quavered, “me with a wife and seven children.”

  “Seven is too many,” Ned said with mock seriousness. “Four might have been all right, but seven!”

  “It’s not my fault,” the man stammered, beginning to perspire heavily.

  “You must have an obliging neighbour, then,” Ned said ironically, and signalled to Lobb. “Take these men to the Peleus. Sir Thomas will take them to the fourth ship, which we are going to leave behind.”

  “Yes, she’s very small,” Lobb commented. “Leave her or burn her – she’d be worth nothing in Port Royal.”

  Ned said: “I’m only concerned that I don’t leave this gang of pirates to harass the villagers: they’ve little enough as it is. Now, once we’ve got rid of these four, have you got all you need to take the prize to Port Royal?”

  “Yes, while you were away in the Peleus I had a look at the stores and water. There’s a couple of weeks’ supply on board.”

  “Right,” Ned said, “get this quartet over to the Peleus; the sooner the prisoners are on board the little ship, the sooner we can get under way.”
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  Chapter Eleven

  The Griffin led the convoy of six ships back into Port Royal, and as she tacked her way up the anchorage, the others tacked in her wake, like obedient ducklings following their mother across the village pond.

  As soon as they were anchored, Ned had a boat hoisted out and was rowed over to the Peleus, where Thomas agreed that they should visit the governor immediately. It might interrupt his siesta, Ned commented, but they had all lost sleep because of the man.

  Sir Harold was seated in his office when they were shown in by his secretary, William Hamilton, who tried to give the impression that both Ned and Thomas were being extended a considerable honour in being allowed an audience with the governor.

  Sir Harold looked up and said simply: “Well?”

  Ned looked significantly at Hamilton, and when Sir Harold did not react said quietly: “It’s not our concern if the governor conducts his affairs in the market place, but it is not our habit.”

  “Leave us,” Luce told a red-faced Hamilton, who flounced out like a woman whose honour had been impugned.

  “Well?” Luce repeated.

  “The last time we were here,” Ned said, “you called me a pirate.”

  “Yes, I did,” Luce said. “Some of your ships had attacked one of our ships off Grand Cayman.”

  “Your Excellency,” Ned said quietly, “on several occasions you have said things which were later proved wrong. Has anything happened to make you change your mind?”

  “Indeed not!” Luce retorted. “Pirate I said, and pirate I meant.”

  “Sir Thomas and I, and another ship, have just been to Grand Cayman.”

  “How interesting – did you find any ship to attack?” Luce sneered.

  “Yes, four. We captured them all but left one behind.”

  “You captured four? You have the infernal impudence to come up here and tell me you have just captured four of our ships?”

  “I said we captured four ships,” Ned said coldly. “I did not speak the word ‘our’.”

  “Whose were they then?” Luce asked truculently.

  “Spanish.”

  “Spanish?” Luce yelped. “That’s just as bad! That’s piracy!”

  “If you call me a pirate again,” Ned said quietly, “I shall challenge you, and to me you don’t look as if your swordplay matches your tongue.”

  “Don’t you dare to threaten me with a challenge!” Luce exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and nervous. “After all, I am the governor.”

  “Not even the governor can insult whom he pleases without answering for it – at least, not if he’s a gentleman. I presume, Sir Harold, that you rate yourself a gentleman?”

  “What on earth has all this got to do with you capturing four Spanish ships off Grand Cayman?” Luce asked evasively.

  “Everything, apparently: you’ve just called me a pirate again.”

  “But you are!”

  “There you go again,” Ned said. “Making conclusions without knowing the facts.”

  “But you’ve just told me the facts,” Luce said.

  “You weren’t listening. I said we captured four ships, and that they were Spanish.”

  “There you are!” Luce exclaimed. “Piracy!”

  Ned sighed. “Really, you are too pathetic to challenge, even if you are the governor. Just listen. We captured four ships. They were Spanish. Now before you start jumping about any more, let me assure you they were pirates. Spanish pirates. They were raiding Grand Cayman – the defence of which is your responsibility – and had come from Cuba.”

  “But how do you know they were pirates?”

  “I questioned some of the crew.”

  “I shall question them,” Luce announced. “Then I can be sure.”

  “You’ll have to go to Grand Cayman, then,” Ned said. “We left all the prisoners there. If you go to the door and look across the anchorage, you’ll see three of the pirate ships anchored close to the Griffin, Phoenix and Peleus. We brought the ships back because we thought,” Ned added ironically, “that you might like to buy them, and start the Jamaica Navy.”

  “You don’t expect me to believe all that story, do you?” Luce demanded.

  “No, I suppose not,” Ned said. “However, the three ships are there, with their Spanish names painted across their transoms, and we shall be applying to the court to have them condemned as prizes.”

  “I shall oppose it,” Luce said hotly.

  “I don’t think you will,” Ned said icily, “because by then you’ll have said in public that I am a pirate, and I shall have challenged you, and as I suggested just now, you don’t look the sort of man who is very handy with a sword. But perhaps you would prefer pistols? Never mind,” Ned said dismissively, “our seconds can sort out all that when the time comes.”

  “I’m not duelling with you!” Luce said, almost tearfully.

  “But you’ll have no choice,” Ned said. “You just said you would oppose the condemnation of the prizes in the prize court, and to do that you have to call me a pirate. If you call me a pirate, I shall challenge you. It’s all very simple really.”

  Luce was perspiring so heavily now that the ends of his moustaches were hanging down. He put his hands flat on the table in front of him and started speaking in a placating voice.

  “Perhaps I was a little hasty,” he said. “All you need do is prove these ships belonged to pirates.”

  Ned cursed himself for leaving the four Spanish prisoners behind, but decided he was not going to have his word doubted by a man like Luce.

  “I will prove it to the court,” Ned said. “It is none of your business. What is your business is the fact that if Spanish pirates from Cuba decide to raid the Caymans, it won’t be long before you have them raiding Jamaica. And it’s not necessary for me to remind you that you can’t stop them. Don’t rely on the former buccaneers,” Ned said heavily. “I shall warn them that if they take any action against the Spanish, they’ll be called pirates by the governor of Jamaica…”

  “You leave me defenceless!” wailed Luce.

  “You’re defenceless anyway and it’s your own fault,” Ned said unsympathetically. “You disband the Army; you took away the buccaneers’ commissions. Apart from taking your sword and dropping it down a well, how can you make yourself more defenceless?”

  For the next week Ned, Thomas and Saxby lazed: they had their men changing some ropes – usually turning them end for end – and setting up the rigging. Decks were swabbed down each morning, a habit which set some men grumbling that it was like being in the Navy, but Ned was anxious that the planking should not dry out in the heat of the sun, making the wood shrink so that the first heavy rain, or voyage that brought seas over the deck, made water seep through the seams, dripping below on to clothes and bedding, making life a damp misery.

  Every couple of days Ned went over to visit Sanchez, the governor of Colombia, while Thomas, to satisfy a quirkish sense of humour, visited the bishop. Ned failed to get any more information from Sanchez, who grumbled at being held a hostage.

  “My people will pay a ransom,” he protested to Ned on the third visit. “How much are you asking?”

  Ned held up his hands expressively. “We haven’t decided on a price yet. When you tell us what we want to know, we’ll settle the price.”

  “What else can I tell you?”

  “What those ships from Spain are going to do.”

  “But I don’t know.”

  “Most unfortunate,” Ned said, shaking his head. “Your memory is not like wine, it doesn’t seem to improve with keeping.”

  “I want to get home to my wife.”

  “No doubt you do,” Ned said, “but it all takes time. Keep thinking hard; you may remember something.”

  On the ninth day Lobb called down to N
ed, who was in the saloon talking to Aurelia, that a canoe was coming out with Sir Harold Luce’s secretary.

  Ned thought wearily of other secretaries and messengers who had in the past come out with messages, and they all had one thing in common: they were covered with fish scales because the only boats they could use were the fishermen’s canoes, and as these were unstable craft the messenger usually arrived pale-faced with nervousness as well as reeking of fish.

  “Very well, keep him on deck: I’ll come up as soon as you pass the word.”

  Hamilton, as smelly and nervous as Ned expected, brought a letter from Luce and waited for the answer. Would Ned and Sir Thomas call on the governor at their earliest convenience?

  Ned thought of their last meeting and would have refused, but he knew he would receive no sympathy from Aurelia; she felt sorry for the wretched Luce and regarded Ned and Thomas as bullies.

  “Tell Sir Harold we will wait on him within an hour,” Ned said. “And next time pick a cleaner canoe: you are shedding fish scales all over my deck.”

  The embarrassed William Hamilton looked round him. On the deck, which was still damp from the latest swabbing, were many fish scales on which the sun glinted.

  Ned collected Thomas on his way to the jetty. “Luce is a cool fellow,” Thomas muttered. “Last time we saw him he was calling you a pirate and you were threatening to call him out; now it’s ‘at your earliest convenience’.”

  “He’s in some sort of trouble,” Ned said. “Nothing like trouble to make him change his tune.”

  “What trouble, though?”

  “Nothing minor, I hope,” Ned growled.

  Sir Harold, who had been sitting at the table, jumped to his feet when Hamilton announced them. He came round the table, hand extended.

  “My dear Mr Yorke, how very kind of you to spare the time. And you, Sir Thomas. I do apologize for bothering you. Please be seated.”

  With that he returned to his chair and pulled the ends of his moustaches, a nervous gesture which Ned had often seen before. He was slightly disconcerted because neither Ned nor Thomas had said a word and obviously he was not sure how to begin.