Pistoleer: Pirates Page 6

  Daniel had to constantly fight the wheel to balance the ship between wind and waves but every time he turned the wheel the ship responded strangely. The riggers who were trying to adjust the sails were cursing Daniel, while Daniel was cursing the sea. "Rob!" he cried out with panic in his voice. "The ship has a mind of her own. It is like she is possessed. If I hadn't swung wide around the point, we'd be a wreck on the beach by now."

  Since Robert had not been fighting the wheel as Daniel had been, he was able to watch the waves and the sea and try to remember the like. And he did remember something, but something from navigating rivers, not the open sea. "Danny, do you see that floating log?" he pointed to a log between them and the beach of the barrier island. "Now compare its speed to ours and the island. It's not the ship that's possessed, it's the sea."

  Daniel stopped fighting the wheel for a moment so that he could stare at the log. "It’s moving almost as fast as we are. Bloody hell, it's as if we are sailing in a fast river." Daniel had sailed up enough rivers in his lifetime to know exactly what to do. He changed his heading and the angle of the wind on the sails to account for the current and then yelled at the riggers to haul the sails in tight to the gunnels. Suddenly he had control of the ship again, but that didn't mean it was a pleasant ride. The sea was jumping around them because the river-like current was causing upswells and eddies, while the north wind was blowing against the sea and causing a stiff, steep chop.

  "Swing her around and get closer to the island,” Robert told him. "The chop wasn't as wild closer in. If we can get out of these peaking waves then we can use the wind to get back south and back around the point."

  Daniel yelled out a warning to the crew that he was coming about, and they cursed him because they had finally gotten the ship sailing properly. They loosened the sheets that held the bow end of the lateen yard down, and then hauled on the sheets to pull the high end of the yard down. For a moment while the ships angle crossed the wind, the yard was horizontal as if it were a square rigged. The changing angle of the wind turned the yard and once it was on the other side of the mast, the crew made ready to haul the end of the yard that had been up, down thus reversing the points of the triangular sail.

  The lateen yard was still horizontal when an enormous eddy in the current caught the Swift and swung the entire ship, and the yard went hard over with the full force of the sail and broke a block free. "To the oars!" Robert called out in a panic. "Run out the oars and help us around before the eddy sucks us backwards!"

  The crew ducked low to keep from being knocked overboard by the loose block that was being whipped across the decks by the half wild yard, and then they scurried for their oars. "I need the starboard oars first, any at all, now, get rowing as soon as your oar touches water, now damn yee all! We have no steering. We are being dragged backwards." The first of the oars bit into the sea and the men's backs and shoulders heaved and heaved again.

  The ship began to hold its own against the eddy, and then slowly moved forward, and so the rudder cleaved the sea once more, but the angle was wrong and the ship swung wildly. "Starboard oars lift, lift them out I say!" yelled Robert, quickly going hoarse from all the yelling with the dry mouth and throat caused by his own fear. "Dig deep on the port oars!" He counted out the strokes. "Now just the starboard." The ship over reacted to the starboard oars. "Both sides, both sides, quickly."

  Robert stopped watching the bow and the oarsmen and ran to the wheel to help Daniel, for it took their combined strength to turn the damn thing, and slowly the ship crossed the magic angle against the current, and then swung about so the bow was pointing out of the eddy. The smaller rear sail had been successfully swapped over to the other side of the mast and now it caught the wind and foot by foot, yard by yard, helped the oarsmen push them out of the eddy. The wheel was still misbehaving but through determination and brute force they finally had the Swift aimed towards the barrier island and moving away from the giant eddy.

  Both men looked behind them at the ship swallowing eddy they had just escaped. The jolly boat they had been towing since they had stolen it from a slaver in Africa, had nearly been dragged under by it, and now it was half filled with water and acting like a sea anchor. They decided not to axe the tow line and lose the boat, for despite its drag, they were now winning against the current.

  "What a monstrous current it must be to cause such upswells and such eddies out here in deep water,” Daniel snorted. "That was no tidal rip or storm surge. That was something far more powerful."

  "Aye," Robert replied, "the Florida flow must be blocked by this point. The current is being turned by the point, and the deeper water is being turned upwards by the shelf below us. We are lucky to be alive."

  Once they were in shallower water and closer to the island, the sea began to behave itself again, and so did the ship. The north wind was now their friend and was pushing them south faster than the current could push them north, but just barely. The crew shipped their oars and scrambled to secure the loose yard that was still horizontal and making a cross at the top of the mast as if she were square rigged.

  By hauling the free foot of the triangle sail taught and straight down in front of the mast, and by keeping the yard under control with the still functioning tackle on one end of it, the sail was working well enough as a square rig. With the yard now under control, it took them but an hour to secure a new block and feed the tackle that had secured the other end of the yard. Other men had hauled the jolly boat alongside and then a lad had leaped aboard it with a bailing bucket. The jolly was floating higher and the sail was again fully useful by the time the Swift rounded the point and scurried back the way they had come and into the safety of the lee of the barrier island..

  Having failed at rounding the point, this time Daniel turned into the channel that connected the sea to the waterway behind the barrier island. Unfortunately, that heading meant that they were fighting both a north wind and the ebb tide, and this in a channel not wide enough for tacking. The crew were already exhausted but they had no choice but to drop the sails and run out the oars. Under oar they crept along the channel and took shelter in the first inlet that was out of the rip and the wind, and there they dropped their anchors for a well earned rest.

  The sight of how much water was still in the jolly boat was a reminder of how close they come to drowning the Swift. "If we'd been a pure sailing ship, like a fluyt, we would have never escaped that eddy,” Daniel mumbled as he sat down on a step and stretched out his aching arms and shoulders. "I wonder how many ships have been killed by that current?"

  "I wonder at the great forces that causes such a current. I doubt it is tidal or controlled by your moon goddess. Those peaking waves stretched out to sea as far as I could see, and yet it was more like being in a river than a sea. Have you ever heard of a river in the sea?"

  Daniel rubbed his sore muscles while he thought. "Like when you sail through the Straits of Dover on a moon tide?"

  "Nay, for this was in open sea, not a narrows between two points. I think it is past time that we shook some truth out of Tom Weston, our so-called pilot, and make him earn his passage."

  Before making his way down to the command cabin, Robert told the men who were testing the stern anchor that they would be spending the night here, despite it being just short of noon. He told them to spread the word, and to tell the passengers that they could come back onto the deck or even go ashore onto the nearest sand island. "And have someone see to the shade mats,” he told them, pointing to the wreckage the loose block had made of their palm-mat shade canopy.

  The command cabin was filled with passengers, and Daniel told them that they were here for the night, and to go about their regular day. Anna was sitting beside Weston's mat, but the sick man was sleeping so he told her that he would watch him. As soon as Anna and the rest were out of the cabin, Daniel came closer and kicked Weston's leg to waken him.

  The man stared up at them through unseeing eyes. He was still feverish. Daniel poured som
e water over his face, and he sputtered and his eyes focused. "What time is it?" was all he said, and then he shielded his eyes from the brilliant sun coming through the doorway.

  "Why didn't you warn us that the next great point on this coast was deadly?" Daniel asked.

  "You went outside the point? Why, when there are protected channels behind the islands?"

  "We tried one of them, but it became a river so we had to turn back."

  "They are rivers, yes, but there are many channels,” Weston told them. "There is always a way through behind the islands. Wait, in my sleep I dreamed that I was being thrown about. So that was not a dream then? That was the ship trying to round a point?"

  Daniel described the current outside the point, with its eddies and upswells.

  "Ahh, then I know where we are. It was the point that marks the start of the ships graveyard, the barrier islands that create the Pamlico Sound. Those eddies and upswells mark the place where the Florida Current turns towards Europe."

  "Don't give me that," Daniel scoffed. "The Florida Current has been making our life easy for weeks by pushing us north along the coast. What tossed us about was something quite different."

  "Fool, did you think the current was only along the shore,” Weston said as he put his hands over his eyes and shivered even though he was sweating. "The current fills the strait between Cuba and Florida, and then between the Bahamas and Florida. North of the Bahamas it widens to be hundreds of miles across. The Spanish treasure ships travel back to Spain by crossing to the eastern side of the current and then letting it push them home.

  We are now at the place where the current makes a great bend that aims it across the Atlantic. Once a ship is gripped by the current, there is little choice but to stay with it. But of course, this is a galliot so you did have a choice. In a square rigged pinnacle or a fluyt we would now be on our way to Britain or to Norway. Help me up and outside and I will pilot you."

  "We have anchored in behind an island,” Robert said as he held Daniel back from kicking the man again. "Have a good sleep, and then tomorrow you can pilot us up this waterway. You said it was a sound, Pamlico Sound, but all I see is a channel between land and the barrier island."

  "Aye, it begins as a channel in the south but then it widens because of all the great rivers that flow into it. If we are in the south channel then there should be some fishing camps close by."

  "Native fishing camps?"

  "Native unless more European fishermen have been wrecked by that current. I was not jesting when I told you that this is a graveyard of ships. Entire colonies of folk have disappeared in these waters. Help me up. I will come and look to see where we are." Once standing Weston swayed and could not walk by himself for he was so dizzy from the fever and headaches. They had to help him outside, where luckily the men had re-rigged some of the shade mats.

  He looked around and thought for a long time, and looked again, and then pointed. "Send one of your boats that way around this cove, and there should be a channel leading west towards the true mainland coast. There should be a large fishing village there, umm, umm, Cwarioc, at the end of a deep channel that runs south to the sea. The natives that fish from there are of the friendly sort."

  "If there is a fishing village, then we'll not risk a boat. They will also have boats. Ours could be overwhelmed or be followed back here."

  "Don't worry, even their largest boats will not be able to keep up with your oarsmen. Their boats are dugouts made from huge cypress logs. Very stable, but very heavy and slow. Send a boat to find the village but not to approach it, for all I need to know is whether it is there or not. Besides, the fishing season does not begin until fall, so Cwarioc will likely be empty. The native clans live up river in their planting villages for the spring and summer so they can work their fields."

  Daniel left them to go and organize a boat. Robert held Weston by one arm to steady him. "So that is why there are no people or boats in any of these waterways. The coastal villages are seasonal places."

  "You are not the first to be confused," Weston whispered. "Not understanding that the natives migrate from inland rivers to coastal islands has cause many a colony to fail. This coast is not a healthy place in the summer. It is hot and damp and the fresh water becomes foul, and the biting flies swarm, and the food spoils quickly so that everyone turns sickly. The summer is also when the Spanish ships come north looking for slaves, and when the monster double storms come north and sink boats, and flood the land, and blow the roofs away."

  "Double storms? Are they the same as the Hurakan storms we heard about in Barbados? Why do you call them double?"

  "Because they usually come in twos. First one storm hits you, then there is peace for an hour or two, and then the second storm hits you with a different wind." Weston watched the now bailed out jolly boat row away with six young men pulling on the oars while the rudderman hauled up a small sail. "Go with God,” he blessed them.

  "When were you last in these waters?"

  "I was here in '30, then back to Bristol, and then here again in '31. All on the same ship. In '30 we transported some folk to start a settlement. It was to be the first settlement in the new Caroline territory. Then we came back with more folk in '31. After that the ship sank in those currents of yours, but I survived because I found a fishing dugout and paddled it all the way to San Agustin."

  "So where are those settlers? Is their village far from here?"

  "I don't know. The Caroline patent included a lot of territory that was also claimed by the Spanish and the French, including the Bahamas. They could be anywhere by now, or nowhere."

  "You mean dead?" Robert asked. "Didn't you never find out?"

  "Anything can happen in ten years. Look at me. After San Agustin, I circled the Caribbean trying to make my fortune."

  "So those settlers, were they left with boats?"

  "Of course. You need boats to get around, because there are no roads. That they had boats is why I don't know what happened to them. They could be anywhere on this sound, or up any of its rivers, or on any of its islands. The land surrounding Pamlico Sound is vast and heavily treed. You could pass less than a mile away from a village and never know it was there. You can't even climb a hill and look for smoke, for there are no hills."

  Daniel had come back and now he said, "So we've noticed. All along the coast, no people, no boats, no hills. If this were the Fens of England, or the Waddensea of Frisia there would be hundreds of boats."

  "No boats? But that can't be right,” Weston interrupted. "Ten years ago there were hundreds and hundreds of dugouts, even in the summer. The clans all trade with each other by dugout because the land paths are blocked by waterways. They all fish from boats." He closed his eyes and whispered. "I wonder what can be wrong."

  Weston swooned, but Robert caught him and danced him back into the cabin to lie down.

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  The Pistoleer - Pirates by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14

  Chapter 4 - The Carolinas in June 1641

  The short nap Robert had snatched while watching over Weston's fever was interrupted by much scuffing of feet on the steering deck above his head, and excited voices. Not knowing how long he had slept, he assumed that it was their own boat returning from their scouting trip. He stood, in truth he was the only man aboard who could stand in this cabin, and he went out on deck to see for himself. Gliding up to the Swift was a long dugout canoe with six people paddling it.

  As it came closer he saw that two of them were women. Young, comely women with long raven hair and tanned skins, and naked to the waist. Three of the men could have been mistaken for more women for they were beardless and also had long raven hair, but their hair was tightly braid down their left side while on the right side of their head the hair was shaved off. The tanned skin of the comely young men was covered in swirling tattoos, yet the women had none.

  The fourth man, though dressed like the others and tattooed like the others, had long blon
de hair tied to one side, and a bushy beard. His skin was not smooth and tanned like the others, but pink and covered in red bumps and freckles. He called out to them in English, "Do not anchor here. At low tide you will be left high and dry."

  "So where should we anchor if not here?" Robert called back, forgetting about introductions for now, for the tide was still ebbing.

  "Go with the ebb out to sea and then west to the next channel. It is deep and does not run so fast on the ebb. Our village is at the end of that channel.. It has the best harbour for ships near to here."

  Daniel sent a lad running over the island to call back the jolly boat and to call back the folk who had gone to stretch their legs on the sand island. While they waited for them to return they shifted the anchors so they were in deeper water, for the tide was still ebbing.

  Once under way they let the ebb take them to the sea, and then back-tracked west to the next large channel. Sure enough it was deep and straight, and they had no trouble rowing up it all the way to the actual mainland. On the mainland there was an inhabited village with dugouts pulled up on the shore. .

  * * * * *

  The village of Cwarioc was the first native village that they had explored that had not been abandoned. It reminded Daniel of his own village of Wellenhay in the Fens. It had a deep channel that led to the sea which was surrounded by sand and mud flats. There were marshes all around the channel with tall marsh grasses fringed with huge trees. The trees were different, however, being a type of cypress.

  The villagers were mostly Indians, but with some whites and some half bloods. They were all busy with smoke drying fish or packing up the village. Tied up to the bank were a half dozen dugouts, two of which were well over thirty feet long. The village huts were similar to the Wellenhay huts in that they had a frame made of stout branches, covered with layers of matting woven from rushes. The roofs were different. In the Fens the roofs were thatched. Here they were made of the same matting as the walls and were arched rather than peaked.