Download the Book - Islam and Science Fiction
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You’d best be hitting your bed. Take an extra hour; I’ve eaten up half<br />
a watch with this tarnal foolishness.”<br />
Hawkins threw him a grateful salute as he hurried below. The<br />
stench might be horrendous, but he was exhausted.<br />
Hawkins collapsed onto his berth, expecting to sleep as soon as<br />
his head hit <strong>the</strong> pillow, but Gossett’s superstitions badgered his<br />
thoughts, making every creak of <strong>the</strong> hull seem portentous. He rubbed<br />
his face, counting <strong>the</strong> days till he’d be shut of <strong>the</strong> Adeline. She was a<br />
beautiful boat – a four-masted barque with more yards of canvas than<br />
any ship he’d ever sailed on – but when <strong>the</strong>y reached Havana he’d<br />
leave her without even a glance behind him.<br />
It wouldn’t be long now. They were just coming up on <strong>the</strong> Gr<strong>and</strong><br />
Turks <strong>and</strong> Caicos. Tonight <strong>the</strong>y would skirt northward, avoiding <strong>the</strong><br />
isl<strong>and</strong>s lest <strong>the</strong>y be taken, <strong>the</strong>ir cargo seized, <strong>and</strong> <strong>the</strong>ir selves<br />
imprisoned. Tomorrow eve <strong>the</strong>y’d fall off southwesterly past Gr<strong>and</strong><br />
Inagua <strong>and</strong> on to Baracoa, sidestepping <strong>the</strong> heavy traffic of <strong>the</strong><br />
Windward Passage. Two weeks beating north along <strong>the</strong> shore of<br />
Cuba, dispensing of <strong>the</strong>ir cargo, <strong>and</strong> he’d never have to set eye on<br />
Bayonne again, unless it were down <strong>the</strong> gun sights of a man-o’-war.<br />
He had plans to join <strong>the</strong> blockade fleet after his marriage to<br />
Louisa. His familiarity with <strong>the</strong> secret passages between <strong>the</strong> isl<strong>and</strong>s<br />
<strong>and</strong> <strong>the</strong> hidden inlets where cargo was unloaded, ought to be worth a<br />
promotion to first mate on a British or American privateer in <strong>the</strong> antislave<br />
trade campaign. He’d bring Louisa to Dominique or Nassau,<br />
<strong>and</strong> devote his days to chasing down ships like <strong>the</strong> Adeline.<br />
He just hoped he could avoid prison. And that he wouldn’t be<br />
plagued by night terrors.<br />
Three hours later, he clambered out of his narrow berth, <strong>and</strong><br />
stretched mightily. After seven weeks at sea, <strong>the</strong>re was nothing more<br />
inviting than thought of a goodly hour in a rum-hole <strong>and</strong> a full night in<br />
a fea<strong>the</strong>r bed, unless it were someone sweet to share <strong>the</strong>m both.<br />
The thumping of feet running past <strong>the</strong> door of <strong>the</strong> cabin he shared<br />
with <strong>the</strong> chief mate roused him fully, <strong>and</strong> he headed to <strong>the</strong> main deck<br />
to see what all <strong>the</strong> commotion was about. A Naval frigate hailing<br />
<strong>the</strong>m? A slave revolt?<br />
He emerged from <strong>the</strong> below decks to a stiff wind <strong>and</strong> <strong>the</strong> shouting<br />
of sailors. The Captain was amidships hurling orders at <strong>the</strong> crew,<br />
pointing at two or three men with each comm<strong>and</strong>. It looked as though<br />
Gossett’s hurricane was blowing up after all.<br />
“Furl <strong>the</strong> mains <strong>and</strong> <strong>the</strong> stays. Hoist <strong>the</strong> storm sails <strong>and</strong> haul <strong>the</strong><br />
fore sail to <strong>the</strong> starboard <strong>and</strong> aft to <strong>the</strong> port. Stow <strong>the</strong> longboat. Rig<br />
<strong>the</strong> storm lines. Batten down <strong>the</strong> holds, <strong>and</strong> check <strong>the</strong> carriages on all<br />
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