Marauder

10

Wayne knew he had very little time to follow the Hungry Hawk before it was lost on the open sea. His only hope was to find someone with a ship already outfitted who was willing to sail. He paced up and down one of the docks, squinting into the sunlight as he studied the ships.

“No use,” he said to himself, finally. The distance was too great for him to see the kinds of details that would tell him if a ship out there was supplied for a voyage. He glanced around for the nearest tavern and hurried toward it, planning what he would say as he walked.

The tavern was shadowed from the hot sun, of course, but the humid air was stale and motionless inside. Wayne blinked for a moment, waiting for his vision to adjust. Then he went to the bar and waved to the burly man behind it.

“What’ll it be, mate?”

“I’m looking for a man with a ship ready to sail,” said Wayne, keeping his voice low.

“What’s his name?”

“No, I mean, I want to find such a man. Can you help?” He leaned on the bar.

“What’s in it for me?” The burly barkeeper wiped the bar idly with a damp cloth.

“A cut from his end.” Wayne glanced around warily, though the place was almost empty. “I have word that the Hungry Hawk is after a fat Spanish merchant ship.”

“Is he, now?” The barkeeper’s tone betrayed some real interest. “I did hear Quinn sailed ‘cause he was desperate for a little hard coin.”

“What better time is there? But I know which way he went and where he’s headed.” That last part wasn’t quite true, of course, but Wayne knew he had to gamble.

“That old Quinn. He just might do that. He’s a tricky one. Don’t shoot his mouth off like so many men in this town.” The barkeeper was silent a moment. “I know a man who might want to speak with you. But I’ll take my cut from both sides, thank you.” He held out his hand.

Wayne knew he had no choice. “Don’t waste any time. The Hungry Hawk is already under sail.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his few remaining coins. “It’s all I have left,” he said, dropping them into the other man’s palm.

“Better than naught. Stay right here.” The barkeeper walked down to the end of the bar and spoke quietly to someone mopping the wooden floor. With a quick nod, the other figure leaned the mop against the wall and darted out the back door.

Wayne wiped sweat from his eyes and collapsed into a seat. Without any money left, he couldn’t pay for a drink at the bar or any food or lodging later. If his plan didn’t work, he would probably have no chance to catch MC 2. In order to survive he would be forced to return to his own time and risk getting caught in some trap back at the Bohung Institute.

Through the open doorway, he could still see the Hungry Hawk sailing away. It seemed to move with painful slowness to someone accustomed to supersonic airplanes. Of course, speed was relative; a pursuing ship would be subject to the same winds.

Wayne was starting to doze in the heat when he heard the sound of fast, hard footsteps clunking into the tavern. Startled, he sat up quickly. A man’s shadow was blocking out the sunlight.

“Who wants me?” The shadow shouted, shifting shape slightly as he looked around in the nearly empty tavern.

“What’s in it for me?” The barkeeper walked down the length of the bar toward him.

“You’ll keep your throat whole. Now your man brought me over here with a story, but you’ll see no money from me until I’ve heard it all.”

“He’s the one,” said the barkeeper, nodding toward Wayne.

“Oh?” The man in the doorway came inside and glowered down at Wayne. He wore a broad-brimmed hat with several plumes on it; under the hat, long brown hair hung to his shoulders. His beard was full and shaggy; he wore a white linen shirt, black knee breeches and buckled shoes, and a cutlass swung at his side. “I’m Captain Mick Tomann of the Old Laughing Lady.”

“Wayne Nystrom, Captain. Have a seat.” Wayne sat up, gathering his wits.

Tomann sat down, watching him suspiciously. “You know of a Spanish pigeon, do you?”

“Yes,” said Wayne. He didn’t, of course, but if he could grab MC 2 on the high seas, he could just take him back to his own time from there. “But the Hungry Hawk has already gone after it. I’m looking for a partner.”

“What do I need a partner for?”

“I can tell you where to find the prey.”

“Quinn is headed northeast around the island, probably headed for the coast of Cuba. I saw that on my way here just now. Any fool can see that.”

“Ah, but what if you lose him? I know where he’s going. And you’ll need time to get under way.”

Tomann frowned at him, resting one hand on his cutlass hilt. “Not much time, matey. I have some supplies already on board for a voyage I’ve already planned. Any my crew is hanging about on the waterfront, with naught to do and spoiling for a fight.”

“You have the ship and the crew and I have the information.” Wayne jerked his thumb toward the sea. “The Hungry Hawk is under sail even as we speak.”

Tomann grinned suddenly, slammed his fist down on the table, and leaped to his feet. “Aye! Let’s go. The Old Laughing Lady is a schooner that can outsail that fat old brig on any sea, in any weather!”

Wayne smiled with relief and stood up. The barkeeper came forward.

“Captain,” said the barkeeper. “Since I brought you two together, I believe a consideration for your humble servant is in order here.”

Tomann whirled on him, drawing his cutlass in a wild, sweeping motion. The barkeeper jumped back.

“We shall see, my humble friend. If the pigeon is found heavy in the water, I shall bring a trinket back home for you. Until then, back away.”

The barkeeper did so.

“Come on, friend,” Tomann added to Wayne. “We have a crew to gather.” He sheathed his cutlass and strode out.

Wayne hurried after him.

Steve grinned as he trotted after Hunter. The big robot was carrying a massive armload of lumber on one shoulder, under the front end of the planks. He was easily able to carry the load, but Steve was hustling along under the rear end of the lumber, pretending to help so that passersby wouldn’t notice just how impossibly strong Hunter was. In addition, Hunter was carrying a bunch of woodworking tools in his other arm.

Jane walked alongside Steve, amused by the masquerade.

Hunter kept walking after the docks ended. The trio wove their way through a variety of other work areas and warehouses along the water before they finally left the occupied areas behind. Then Hunter stopped and turned to look back over his shoulder, carefully checking to see that he did not strike Steve or Jane as he lowered his load to the sand.

“I have devised a plan to work from,” said Hunter. “Partly from my stored data and partly from observing the ships in the bay. With these manual tools, I will be able to work much faster than either of you.”

“I can still do whatever you say,” said Steve. “Even a few minutes saved will help in the long run.”

“Agreed,” said Hunter. “I will give you specific tasks, since I have no way to convey the complete plan.”

“You could draw it in the sand,” said Jane.

“I dare not leave any record, even in sand,” said Hunter. “If anyone seems to take particular notice of our actions, please inform me.”

“I can help, too,” said Jane. “I think.”

“I do not doubt it,” said Hunter. “But I fear that a woman doing such work with us might attract attention in this time, and that would be unwise.”

“I suppose.” Jane shrugged. “Then I’ll stand around and supervise.”

“You cannot supervise without knowing the plan,” said Hunter.

“That’s another joke, Hunter,” said Steve.

“Ah. Was it funny?”

“No,” said Steve. “Now, then. How do we start?”

Hunter worked through the afternoon, doing most of the labor. He was not only faster than Steve, but also more precise in his work. Jane watched for company, but few people came so far from the center of the waterfront. Those who did walk by on the beach took no notice. Steve could see that among the buccaneers, minding one’s own business was a survival trait, and woodworking was common along the docks anyway.

“There’s another one,” said Steve, standing up from a newly sawed board to wipe sweat from his face. “This climate is great for you, Hunter, because the sun beats down constantly on your solar collectors. But I need a break.”

“Of course,” said Hunter, without looking up from his chisel and hammer. “Suit your own need, as you wish.”

“I want to dunk myself in the water,” said Steve, turning to Jane. “Walk with me?”

“Sure.”

Steve wanted to talk to Jane alone for a moment. He led her to the edge of the water and they waded along the surf, away from Hunter. Steve knew that if Hunter wanted to monitor their conversation, he could turn up his hearing to do so; the robot could probably even filter out the sound of the breakers. However, Hunter probably wouldn’t bother.

Steve put his arm around Jane and leaned close to her ear. “Any idea what our chances are now?”

“Of catching MC 2, you mean?”

“Yeah. I mean, snagging MC 1 was a lot simpler in the dinosaur age. No other humans lived in that time to complicate the search. Now we have all these pirates to worry about.”

“That’s true, but this world isn’t as complex as ours. I think if we can catch that ship, we’ll still have a reasonable chance of finding MC 2.”

“Even with all those pirates around?” He glanced back over his shoulder. Hunter was working hard, but of course he could be listening without appearing to be.

“Well, it all depends on Hunter right now.” Jane stopped and watched the surf splash around her legs, holding her skirt up with one hand. “Without his robotic abilities, we wouldn’t be able to get this little sailboat made. If I can keep Hunter focused on action, instead of on frustration over the First Law, then he’ll be worth any number of buccaneers.”

“I don’t doubt that part.”

“What really makes me angry is Rita’s lack of professionalism, running off like that.” Her tone was hard.

“I know,” Steve let himself fall into the cool water on his back, then spat out water and regained his footing. “I have to say, this life-style seems pretty carefree. Fruit and fish everywhere, the sea and the beaches, and a feeling of adventure.”

“Not you, too.”

“No, not really. Let’s start back.”

By the time the sun was low in the west and the fishing boats were coming in, Hunter had cut and shaped all the wood. Steve had done what little he could. Most of all, he was glad to feel the cool air of evening.

“Dinnertime,” said Steve. “Tonight I wish Jane and I could just get what we need from the sunlight, but it won’t work for us.”

Hunter looked up at both of them.

“We can leave you here to keep working,” said Jane.

“No,” said Hunter. “The waterfront is too violent at night. I will come with you.”

“I had a hunch you would,” said Steve.

Rita stretched out on the deck of the Hungry Hawk after dark like the rest of the buccaneers, except for those on duty. The masts and sails rose high above her, their tops now beyond the reach of the torchlight on deck. Dinner had been fairly good, a sort of stew. On their first night out of port, the fresh meat and produce were still good. She knew that in such a warm climate, the fare would quickly turn to salted fish and pork, and hard biscuits.

Roland had picked out a spot in a corner of the deck toward the stern for the three of them. They were right under the rail, wadding up some empty burlap bags he had brought to use as pillows. MC 2 lay down near Rita, still imitating the behavior of the humans around him. Roland sat down on her other side.

“Faring well, sweet lady?” Roland whispered.

“Well enough.” She looked out over the water, where the moon was rising.

“A fair night.”

“Yes, it is.” She decided to ask him some of the questions she had been considering, hoping that this would be a good time. Still looking away from him, she spoke casually. “Tell me about your travels.”

“My travels?” He sounded surprised.

“That’s right.”

“Well, I was born to a London waterfront family. Nothing to speak of there, except the ships were always coming and going. So I grew up wanting to get out, and the sea was the way to go.” He shrugged.

“How old were you?”

“I was an eleven-year-old cabin boy on a trader to Holland and back first. Later, I came out this way.”

“When did you, uh…”

“Join the buccaneers?” He grinned. “I jumped ship off a brig in Tortuga a few years ago. Liked the climate and the freedom. Then I came to Port Royal with some shipmates just last year. It was too crowded in Tortuga.” He shrugged. “It’s a better life than I ever had in Old England.”

Rita didn’t dare look at him. Instead, she watched the bright moon in the dark sky. It looked the same as it did in her own time.

She was telling herself not to ask any more about his life. He must have killed people, of course. His was a violent time and a violent life. He was a creature of his time and he had survived so far.

Uncomfortably, she reminded herself again that from the vantage point of her life and time, he had been dead for centuries. That was her professionalism coming to the {ore again. After all, she repeated to herself, she was here first as a historian. She was merely doing field research, the same way anthropologists, zoologists, and other scientists had always done.

“Is something wrong?” Roland slipped his arm around her shoulders.

Rita stiffened, startled though not exactly surprised. Roland was exciting but his action scared her. She tried to push his hand away, but he held on.

“Ah, Rita, speak to me. What’s on your mind?”

“Let go.” Suddenly more afraid, despite his calm manner, she struggled to get free.

Instead, Roland grabbed her arm with his other hand. “What is it? All of a sudden, you’re-” He stopped abruptly.

Rita saw that MC 2 had sat up and taken hold of one of Roland’s wrists in a smooth, quick motion. MC 2 slowly but firmly pulled Roland’s hand away from Rita.

“Go back to sleep,” Roland ordered. “Or go away. Take a walk, Shorty.”

Instead, MC 2 pushed Roland’s other hand off Rita’s shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Shorty?” Roland moved up into a crouch, ready to fight if necessary. “You’ve been taking orders up to now without a complaint. Gone sweet on the lady, eh?”

Rita scooted out from between them. She got to her feet and moved to the rail. Her heart was pounding.

“You have quite a grip, there, Shorty.” Roland stood up, eyeing MC 2 cautiously and rubbing one wrist.

MC 2 remained seated on the deck, watching Roland.

Rita, now relieved, suppressed a smile. MC 2 was far stronger than any human, even with his small size. If he was really forced to prove that, of course, he would no longer be able to get lost in the crowd of buccaneers. For now, though, Roland didn’t seem inclined to fight with him.

“Think I’ll take a stroll about the deck,” said Roland. He nodded to Rita and walked away, glancing back once to make sure that MC 2 was remaining where he was.

Rita sat down next to MC 2 again. She felt safe now, but was still wide-awake. Still, she was also glad to know that MC 2 would keep her from harm if he could.