There was a ship on the beach.
She was about fifteen metres long, lean and narrow waisted. She was built for speed, Maddie thought. The hull was painted a dull black. She was built to be unobtrusive as well, she added mentally. She was pierced for six oars, three on either side. The square sail was loosely furled on the yardarm. From what she could see, it was made of black canvas.
Behind the mast, in the centre of the deck, was a wooden cage. It stretched back for about a third of the ship’s length, ending a few metres from the steering platform.
Will had edged up beside her, moving so silently that she had no idea he was there until she saw him in her peripheral vision.
“See the cage?” he said softly. “That’s where they’ll keep the slaves. There’ll be iron rings and shackles in there to keep them secured.”
“When did she arrive?” Maddie asked.
“About two hours ago. She came in on the making tide. It’s starting to ebb now.”
She noticed that the ship was canted slightly one side, as there was insufficient water under her to float her. The water was receding fast and already the bow was high and dry on the sand.
“We’ll need to get a move on if we want to stop her,” she said, but Will shook his head.
“She’ll need high tide to go out again, and that’s not due until six or seven hours after noon. She’ll go out on the ebbing tide once there’s enough water to float her. And she’ll wait until it’s dark, just in case there are any ships patrolling.”
Even as they were speaking, Maddie noticed, the water had receded to the last oar port on the black hull.
“How many in the crew?” she asked.
“Seven. Six rowing and one helmsman. They’re in the mess tent.”
She changed the direction of her gaze. Up until now, her attention had been totally distracted by the ship.
“You should have noticed that yourself,” Will admonished her gently.
She bit her lip. He had taught her when she was viewing a scene to scan the entire area first, and to avoid focusing on any one object. Now, the first time it mattered, she had neglected to make an all-round sweep of the beach, concentrating instead on the black ship. The mess tent was the open-sided shelter on the beach. She studied it and could see the legs of a number of men sitting at the rough table. Their upper bodies were obscured by the canvas roof. She could hear a low murmur of voices, and occasional laughter. The cook fire was alight, and a column of smoke spiralled lazily into the air.
She frowned. I’m going to have to do better, she thought. She realised that there was more to being a Ranger than being a crack shot with a bow or being able to move silently. A Ranger’s main job was to observe and report.
Sensing her annoyance, Will touched her arm.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Learn from it. For the moment, take a good look at the layout of the camp, and where the cave and the cliff path are. Study it until you’re sure you can picture it all in your mind. Then we’ll get back to our own camp site.”
She nodded, then settled down to study the beach below her, taking particular notice of the cave with the barred door and the rocky path that led down the cliff. She noted distances, angles and available cover between the path and the cave, then did the same with the cave and the tents. Finally, she set the relative position of the ship in her mind. When she was convinced that she had it fixed firmly in her memory, she squirmed back from the cliff edge and nodded to Will.
“Got it,” she said. He looked at her a moment, head slightly to one side.
“How far from the cave to the mess tent?” he asked.
She saw again the picture of the beach she had engraved in her memory. “Thirty-five, maybe forty metres.”
He nodded. “And to the sleeping tents?”
“Another ten.”
“How far to the ship?”
“A hundred and ten metres. And she’s a little to the right of the camp.”
“Can you see the ship from the cave entrance?”
She paused, frowning. She hadn’t been expecting that question. Then she answered carefully.
“I don’t think so. The mess tent and the sleeping tents are in between those two points.”
“Good girl.” He touched her arm, then gestured behind them. “Let’s get back to where we can talk comfortably and we’ll go over the plan for tonight.”
“Do we have a plan for tonight?” she asked.
“We certainly do.”
“Is it a good plan? Will I like it?” she asked, grinning cheekily.
Will regarded her solemnly for several seconds.
“It’s a great plan. You’re going to love it.”
She thought about the situation. There were two of them, and now that the ship’s crew had added another seven men to the enemy, it was two against eighteen. They were pretty long odds, no matter how many arrows they might have.
Whatever the plan was, she doubted that she was going to love it.
Forty-five
Will cleared a patch of dirt between them and sketched with the point of his saxe.
“Here’s the cliff path, with the cave at the bottom of it—” he began.
“The cave is about ten metres from the path,” she corrected him and he glared at her. She shrugged. “You said for me to study every detail. That’s a detail.”
“Very well.” He amended his sketch. “Happy now?” She nodded. “Here’s the path. Here’s the cave. The tents are here.” He indicated their position. “And the ship is here, down the beach.”
He glanced up at her. “Any corrections?” he asked, a little acidly.
She made a small disclaiming gesture with one hand. “No. That looks fine.”
“Now, the tide will start coming in about four hours after noon. It’ll be full by seven and then it’ll start to ebb. My guess is, the Iberians will want to go out on the ebbing tide when it’s full dark. That’ll be about an hour after high tide. They’ll still have enough water under their keel and the tide will take them out.”
“Why will they wait till dark?” Maddie asked.
“There are patrols. The Skandians station a ship on the east coast for the King’s use. She patrols these waters, keeping an eye out for smugglers, pirates… and slavers. The Iberians won’t want to run into her, so they’ll wait for dark. You noticed the ship is all black?”
She nodded.
“That’s because they prefer to travel by night. Now the cave is on the left-hand side of the bay as you look out to sea. The ship is a little to the right of the middle of the beach. I plan to work my way down the cliffs on the right side of the beach, and get within a hundred metres of the ship—”
“What if there’s no way down?” she interrupted.
He looked at her for a long moment, took a deep breath, then answered. “There is. I reconnoitred and found one while you were snoozing. Now don’t interrupt.”
“You’ve always said I should have an inquiring mind,” she said.
“I have. But not an interrupting one. If you want to inquire, wait till I finish. Now, once I’m down the cliff, I’m going to start shooting fire arrows at the ship.”
“Fire arrows?”
He glared at her again.
“That wasn’t an inquiry. It was more a statement,” she said apologetically.
“I’ll let it pass. Yes, I’ll start shooting fire arrows. If there’s one thing puts the fear of the hereafter into a sailor, it’s fire on board his ship. Ships are full of tarred rope and dried-out canvas and pinewood. They burn at the first hint of a flame.”