Leaving the poop and my once commanders, I hurried to find Sophie. Now that the sails were set, I imagined Jenny Blade would have some purpose, some destination in mind.
Sophie was standing on the quarterdeck with her mother and Mr Griff. I stopped some yards away when I saw them and Sophie hurried over to meet me. I looked quickly around in case Mr Wicker was about, but he was nowhere to be seen.
‘You were right,’ I whispered.
‘The wind’s come up even more quickly than I’d hoped,’ she whispered in turn.
It was true; beneath her cap her hair was lifting slightly already.
‘What are your mother’s plans?’ I asked.
‘We are to the Cove,’ she said.
‘The Cove?’
‘My mother wants the vessel to be re-provisioned and we need fresh water. She also wants to be rid of Captain Lightower and the drunken doctor.’
I glanced at her. I wasn’t sure of what she meant by be rid of.
‘Captain Lightower thinks your mother might intend to hang him or throw him to the sharks,’ I said.
Sophie gave me a look of astonishment. ‘Then he is judging Jenny Blade by his own dreadful standards!’ she exclaimed. ‘My mother means to deliver him to the Cove where he may be able to arrange passage to Jamaica. That is, if he can find a privateer willing to transport him.’
This information relieved me greatly, although I did not share Captain Lightower’s low opinion of Sophie’s mother. Any captain who would engage Irish Peter to provide music and dancing to her sailors would not be capable of naked brutality.
‘But this Cove?’ I asked. ‘Where is that?’
‘It cannot be far,’ said Sophie, ‘a few days at most. It is our home really when we are not at sea, an island with a small port, an anchorage and a little town. It is a safe haven for those like us. My mother has a house there and there are taverns and inns for the men. It is also,’ she added, ‘a place governed by no flag: English, French or Spanish.’
At that point, Sophie gave me a warning look and abruptly backed away from me and returned to her mother. I glanced to one side and saw that Mr Wicker had just climbed from below decks and was approaching Jenny Blade and Mr Griff.
He gave me an imperceptible nod and a conspiratorial smile which I found uncomfortable. Still, Sophie had been alert enough to hide from him our connexion, and I was somewhat relieved.
‘Good morning, ma’am,’ he said to Jenny Blade, and ‘Your servant, sir,’ to Mr Griff.
When they returned his greeting he raised his head and took off his tricorn hat to let the breeze ruffle his black hair. ‘So pleasing to be out of that insufferable stillness,’ he remarked amiably.
The others concurred.
‘Do we have a destination in mind?’ he asked.
‘We do, sir,’ said Jenny Blade.
‘I suppose I could not dissuade you from it, in favour of delivering me to Cartagena?’ he continued.
‘You could not, sir,’ said Jenny Blade firmly. ‘As we have discussed on previous occasions, our delivering you to Cartagena would probably deliver us to a Spanish dungeon, and I have more pleasant plans for the next forty years of my life.’
‘I supposed as much,’ said Mr Wicker, quite unperturbed. ‘But you did not elaborate. Where are we then heading?’
‘We are heading to a safe port, perhaps two days hence,’ replied Jenny Blade. She looked at him steadily. ‘It is a place where there is a good chance you may find someone to offer you passage to Cartagena, if not immediately then sooner or later.’
‘Good, good,’ said Mr Wicker, ‘I can ask no more than that. But you still have not told me the name of this port.’
‘It has no name and it has several,’ said Jenny Blade, ‘but no name you might find on a chart.’
With that Mr Wicker had to be satisfied, for they were then joined by Captain Lightower and Dr Hatch.
They, too, greeted the captain, Mr Griff and Mr Wicker and were greeted in turn.
It seemed Captain Lightower, too, wished to decide the Medusa’s destination.
‘Ma’am,’ he began, ‘now that we are under way, I must insist you take this vessel directly to Jamaica.’
‘What, Lightower,’ smiled Mr Wicker, ‘to report the loss of the Firefly? I would have thought Kingston was the last place you would want to go.’
‘You are too facetious, sir,’ said Captain Lightower stiffly, and giving Mr Wicker a look of loathing.
‘Captain Lightower,’ interrupted Jenny Blade, ‘I will remind you that I am commander of this vessel, I determine its course, and I have already determined it. I should add, gentlemen, the course I have decided on takes us neither to Cartagena de Indias nor to Kingston, Jamaica.’
Captain Lightower flushed.
‘We will anchor, as I have just been informing Mr Wicker,’ continued Jenny Blade, ‘at a place where you may well be able to find passage to wherever you wish to go, whether that be Cartagena, Jamaica or Ultima Thule, but right now I have no further words to say on the matter.’
‘Ma’am,’ said Mr Wicker, smiling, ‘you have made your point exceedingly well and, with your permission, I would now take my leave.’
Somewhat less graciously, Captain Lightower and Dr Hatch likewise excused themselves and left, although Lightower did cast a curious look at Sophie before he departed.
That look reminded me of the conversation I had overheard and, when I had a chance, I whispered to Sophie, ‘Be wary of that man.’
She glanced at me. ‘Captain Lightower?’
I nodded. ‘He and Dr Hatch were talking at the bow end before … That’s when he was worried about what your mother might decide to do with them.’
‘I noticed,’ said Sophie, ‘that he did not think to thank my mother for delivering him to the Cove instead of the bottom of the sea.’
‘They seemed unable to come up with anything to persuade your mother from harming them,’ I said, ‘until the doctor mentioned in passing that Jenny Blade was a mother.’
‘Well, she is,’ said Sophie.
‘Yes, but when the doctor mentioned that, Captain Lightower seemed oddly pleased and he told the doctor that he wasn’t such a fool after all.’
As the full implications of this intelligence sank in, Sophie’s eyes widened.
‘I see I was right to dislike this man,’ she whispered.
‘Surely he would not harm you now that your mother has told him she will take him to this Cove,’ I said.
‘Not if he believes her,’ said Sophie, ‘but knowing the man and how he has judged my mother by his own standards, he probably won’t trust her …’
‘You must be careful.’
Sophie nodded.
There was a silence. We were now alone on the quarterdeck. Sophie’s mother and Mr Griff had retired to the helm, I presumed to give the helmsman instructions.
After some time, I said, ‘Should I tell Mr Wicker of this?’
‘Mr Wicker?’
‘There is no love lost between Mr Wicker and the captain,’ I explained. ‘There is some way that Mr Wicker has a hold over him. This became quite clear when we were on the jolly-boat. I imagine it would give Mr Wicker great pleasure to confound any plans the captain might have.’
Sophie considered this briefly, and then said, ‘I think not. It would be difficult, would it not, to apprise Mr Wicker of this without revealing our acquaintance and that I can see you?’
‘He need not know that. I could simply tell him I had overheard the doctor and the captain talking.’
‘Still, I’d prefer Mr Wicker were left out of this. As much as I am nervous of Captain Lightower, I am frightened of Mr Wicker. He has a deep darkness about him.’
Sophie was right.
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘You are quite correct, and I will keep this between us.’
She smiled at me. ‘Thank you, Loblolly Boy.’
‘But do take care …’
‘I will, and you keep watch?’
‘I will.’
We parted then and I flew up to the mast top. A sailor was already occupying my place in the crow’s nest, so I dropped down to the topgallant spar and sat there, as ever more purposefully the ship gathered the breeze and headed towards the Cove.
Two days later, early in the morning and sure that it was too early for Mr Wicker to be summoning me, I climbed into the air to gather my bearings. I had not gained much height when I saw not many leagues to port a small mountainous island almost entirely covered in green forest, and ringed with yellow beaches and inlets. Scattered about it were smaller islands, some little more than large rocks nosing out of the sea and splashed with foam.
There was one larger bay, almost a perfect O with a narrow entrance channel guarded by a bluff on either side and a number of ships were at anchor there with two or three moored directly against a quay jutting out into the bay. Beyond the shore there were several dwellings and other buildings, many shaded by large trees.
Clearly this must be the so-called Cove, our destination.
I was sorely tempted to wing further towards the little town to explore, but I was mindful of Captain Bass’s warning. Mr Wicker could be rising at any time and I thought it best that I remained close by. I returned to the Medusa reluctantly, consoling myself with the fact that in a short time we would cast anchor.
Not long afterwards, the sailor in the crow’s nest announced ‘Land ahoy’ with a rousing shout, and the decks became busy with men preparing for our arrival or lining the rails merely curious to see terra firma once more.
I dropped to the deck myself and hurried to the prow. It was not long before the island became visible from deck level.
‘So this is our destination, little Loblolly Boy.’
I had not noticed that Mr Wicker had made his way to the forecastle and was standing at my shoulder. This was the first time he had engaged me in conversation since the evening he had refused to change me back.
‘What will you do, sir?’ I asked.
I suppose I might have asked what will we do?, but something in me wanted to pretend that we were independent of each other.
He glanced at me as if gauging how much he would tell me.
‘If this is the place I think it is,’ he said, ‘I may have a friend or two ashore whose assistance I can draw upon. If not, then I imagine we must wait until assistance arrives.’
‘Assistance?’
Mr Wicker was always so assured and self-sufficient it was odd to hear that he might look for assistance. But then, I remembered, it was to assist him that he had taken my existence from me and replaced it with another.
‘To obtain passage to Cartagena,’ he said. ‘As you heard, Jenny Blade will not help me and that fool Lightower lost his ship.’
I was a little surprised by these words. I knew that he had been negotiating with Jenny Blade, but surely the Firefly had been bound to Jamaica. Captain Lightower’s losing it was only incidental.
‘You still mean to go to Cartagena?’
‘Of course.’
‘But the Spanish are there.’
‘Oh, little Loblolly Boy,’ he laughed. ‘I am not at war with the Spaniards. King George is at war with the Spaniards, but not I.’
I decided to take a small risk. ‘What you want must be very important then,’ I said, ‘for even if you are not at war with the Spaniards, they may think otherwise. Are you not risking an awful lot?’
He looked at me keenly. ‘You have been thinking about things, I see, little Loblolly Boy, and I see you are not as foolish as your one-time captain believes.’
‘Believed,’ I said. ‘My captain thinks me drowned, don’t forget.’
Mr Wicker laughed. ‘Even sharper,’ he said. ‘I have been underestimating you.’
‘But are you not taking a great hazard?’ I persisted. ‘Are you not putting yourself in danger?’
‘You measure the hazard by the prize, little Loblolly Boy,’ said Mr Wicker. ‘And in this instance the prize eclipses the hazard completely.’
‘You really think you can carry off the prize?’ I asked.
‘With your help, my boy,’ smiled Mr Wicker, ‘we can do almost anything we set our minds to.’
I looked at him with alarm. I didn’t believe that. I didn’t believe it at all. For myself, I had no sense of danger in what he was proposing. I was, after all, both invisible and imperceptible and if trouble arose I could fly away like a startled bird. But Mr Wicker was not invisible. Mr Wicker could not fly. I could not fathom how, even with my assistance, he could be so confident and brazen about visiting a Spanish stronghold and calmly stealing a precious astrolabe.
The Cove was very sheltered and very well disguised. A passing vessel might not even notice the entrance channel unless they stumbled into it. With half-rigged sails the Medusa moved slowly into the bay. It was soon apparent that we were not to anchor in the bay itself but to berth against the stone quay adjacent to the town.
There was only one moment of excitement as we made way towards the quay.
We were passing one of the anchored vessels when Captain Lightower cried angrily and pointed, ‘My ship! There’s my ship!’
He was pointing at a three-masted barque a little bigger than the Medusa resting at anchor with furled sails.
Jenny Blade trained her telescope on the vessel and said, ‘But Captain Lightower, you said did you not that your vessel was called the Firefly?’
‘Of course it was the Firefly, dammit!’ snapped Captain Lightower, ‘and there she is, right over there!’
‘But, Captain,’ said Jenny Blade, ‘that vessel is named the Perseus. See, look for yourself.’
Captain Lightower snatched the proffered telescope and directed it towards the barque.
Mr Wicker, who was standing nearby, laughed.
‘You are droll, Captain Blade,’ he said, ‘very droll!’
Captain Lightower swung the telescope from his eye and turned angrily to Mr Wicker. ‘What do you mean, curse you?’
‘Do you not remember your classics, Captain?’ smiled Mr Wicker. ‘Perseus slew Medusa the gorgon, but in this case history seems to have been reversed for I rather fear that in this instance Medusa has slain Perseus!’
Captain Lightower cursed, and then stared at Mr Wicker in mute fury, before treating the smiling Jenny Blade to a similar furious look and storming off.
‘That was wicked, Captain, to do such a thing,’ said Mr Wicker.
‘Oh, I agree,’ said Jenny Blade, ‘there’s such a lot of wickedness about.’
By early afternoon the Medusa was securely tied to the wharf and, apart from a watch, most of the crew and passengers disembarked.
Before she and her mother made their way to their place of dwelling, I managed a moment or two with Sophie. I had witnessed Captain Lightower’s rage and I was worried.
‘Be mindful of what we talked about regarding Mr Lightower,’ I said.
‘I’ll be safe here,’ Sophie assured me. ‘I would think that at the Cove, ’tis Captain Lightower who needs to be careful.’
‘That may be,’ I said, ‘but I sense he is a driven man and now that he has discovered his stolen ship, dangerous to boot.’
Sophie nodded, and then whispered urgently, ‘Mr Wicker! Coming!’
She turned away and hurried after her mother. Moments later, Mr Wicker said to me, ‘I will find myself lodgings. No doubt you can fend for yourself?’
‘I can, sir,’ I said. ‘What will you do then?’
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I will check the taverns for a particular friend. You would be interested to meet him, given your fears for my safety, even though meeting you is an impossibility for him.’
Mr Wicker seemed to find that an amusing thought and smiled as he tipped his hat to me. By now I was standing on the furrowed clay street that was the main thoroughfare of the Cove. It was lined with low buildings and shade trees, the buildings mainly of wood but occasionally of brick or stone and half-timbered. None looked especially old although most were ramshackle and I guessed this was because the Caribbean sun and rain were not kind to buildings. The street was crowded with people, as were the alleyways, mostly men although there were a number of women as well. The men, often shirtless but with bandanas wrapped around their heads, tended to gather under the umbrella of trees or in the shadows of the buildings.
Many of these people were black and this was something of a novelty to me for there were few black people in Portsmouth. Some of the black women wore long colourful skirts and shirts and carried great flat cane baskets on their heads, filled with nuts or fruit and other such stuff. They sang out their wares to those passing by so melodiously it seemed the streets and alleys were filled with sweet music.
I found the press of people strange after my weeks at sea, so strange I sought once more the solitude of the air. I flew above the little town and then circled further afield. Every so often there would be a clearing with a thatched dwelling and a small garden where a family scratched a living. Often there would be a milking cow, some pigs and chickens as well. A sluggish brown stream wound its way into the bay lined with trees whose great tangled roots rose from the ooze at the water’s edge. For the most part, though, the countryside beyond the settlement looked deserted, too wooded or too steep for habitation.
I flew back towards the town and the more open terrain. There was a pathway along the northern shore of the bay leading to a larger structure. I recognised the two figures strolling along the path as Sophie and her mother, so I guessed the structure was the house Sophie had mentioned. This was good to know.
I did not fly down to see her. While she was walking purposefully with Jenny Blade conversation would be impossible and I remembered I should not wander too far from Mr Wicker.
I turned back to the town itself. Fortune favoured me as I spotted Mr Wicker almost at once. He was emerging from a house not far from the waterfront and I imagined this was the place he had found lodging. Bareheaded now, he looked about him, and gave me a small smile as I alighted not far from him.
‘Well-timed, little Loblolly Boy,’ he said. ‘I am about to seek a person I’d like you to meet. My new landlady has given me hope he is not too far away.’
I followed him down the street as he investigated various taverns, always emerging with a disappointed shrug.
However, after he entered a larger establishment cheerfully called the Rope and Gibbet he did not immediately return. I remained on the street glancing about me. My stay on the Medusa had not been long enough for me to recognise many of its crew and I saw none I knew among those passing by or lolling in the shade. Nor did I see any of the survivors from the jolly-boat. I was not sure I wanted to, either.
I was at once though startled to see a figure I had met before, although that had been relatively briefly and in a storm-tossed darkness. A man stepped out from a tavern not three or four doors away and looked about him. I would swear that he saw me and immediately retreated inside once more.
He was short, stout and despite his bald top a ring of wispy white hair fell about his shoulders.
I was absolutely certain that this was Daniel Flynn: Daniel Flynn the strange inventor I’d met on the Astrolabe, Daniel Flynn who’d constructed the astrolabe so sought by Mr Wicker, and Daniel Flynn whose lightning wands had supposedly freed me from the thrall of my new master.
My mind was racing and I was about to run to the doorway in pursuit of him when Mr Wicker reappeared.
‘Come, Loblolly Boy,’ he said, ‘we have found our man. Come and meet him.’