Sea Robber Read Online Free

as her helmsman set her on course. He saw that the Revenge was intending to pass close to windward of the anchored Danish ship and this, he thought despairingly, might give Jacques a final chance to return to the Carlsborg . He might be able to jump overboard and swim.
    Hector left the foredeck and hurried down to the waist of the slave ship. This was where the Carlsborg ’s smallest tender, the little cockboat, was stowed. He was going to ask Iversen for permission to launch it. Jacques was a weak swimmer at best.
    The petty officer had reappeared on deck. Now he was standing at the taffrail with the two Danish sailors and watching the Revenge get under way. The scornful expression on his face left little doubt what he thought of the incompetence of the Revenge ’s crew.
    Perched on the bowsprit of Cook’s ship, two deckhands were trying to throw a loop of rope around an anchor fluke so that it could be hauled up and made fast. But they were making a mess of it. Twice they cast the rope, and twice they missed. The third time the rope passed under the anchor, but the man who was meant to catch the free end mistimed his snatch. He lost his grip, swivelled around the bowsprit and hung perilously at arm’s length, feet kicking in thin air, until he heaved himself back up. The rope splashed uselessly into the sea. His clumsiness drew a mocking guffaw from the Danish spectators, their laughter loud enough to be heard by the hapless sailor.
    Hector looked anxiously for Jacques. But he was nowhere to be seen. The Revenge was gathering pace, setting out on her voyage.
    A sudden shout from the Carlsborg ’s stern deck made Hector look in that direction. Iversen had his hands cupped around his mouth and was calling out. He waved an arm. For a moment Hector thought he was bidding a farewell. But then the Dane gesticulated again, more urgently, and it was clear he was signalling to the other ship that she was coming too close and must stand clear.
    Neither the captain nor the helmsman aboard the Revenge appeared to have heard the warning cry, nor were they conscious of the danger. Their vessel maintained course.
    The Danish petty officer shouted again, more loudly this time, roaring at the top of his lungs.
    ‘Maybe they’ll skim by us so close that Jacques can jump across and rejoin us,’ said Jezreel hopefully. He had appeared at Hector’s elbow.
    ‘I don’t think so. No one handles a ship that neatly.’
    The shouts and yells had brought the Carlsborg ’s first mate on deck. He was tousled and dishevelled and still wearing a nightshirt. The moment he saw the danger, he turned and ran back down to his cabin and reappeared with a speaking trumpet in his hand. Putting it to his lips, he bellowed another warning to the Revenge .
    By now Cook’s ship was fifty paces astern and steadily closing the gap. It was also obvious that the wind and current would not allow her to pass the Carlsborg on her windward side. The Revenge had to change her original course and pass downwind.
    The first mate shouted again, red in the face with anger. This time the captain of the Revenge must have heard him, for Hector saw Cook wave acknowledgement. Then he turned towards his helmsman and Hector heard him shout clearly, ‘Hard to starboard, you fool.’
    Hector saw the helmsman fling his weight on the helm and put it to port, the wrong direction.
    ‘What a dolt,’ exclaimed Jezreel.
    But Hector had spotted Jacques. The Frenchman was standing at the foot of the Revenge ’s foremast, stock-still and staring towards the Carlsborg . Beside him stood a man Hector did not recognize. He was holding a pistol to Jacques’ head. The tableau was clearly visible, and was meant to be. With a sickening lurch, Hector understood exactly what was happening.
    So too did the Carlsborg ’s first mate. He turned on his heel and bolted for his cabin, his nightshirt flying out behind him. A moment later he reappeared, a pistol in one hand and a bunch of keys in