before I realized it would do no good. “The dates, the moon; this is happening now. This smuggling ship,” I said, and tapped the pages. “She left for France this very morning.”
“Och, whit good does that do ye, then?” asked Captain Crowe. “There must be a thousand craft setting sail today, frae a hundred ports o' call on a hundred leagues o' coastline.” He shook his head. “Laddie, ye're looking for a needle in a haystack.”
What he said was true, and it took the wind from my sails in an instant. The mysterious smuggler could have been anywhere at all from London round to Devon – still in port or far at sea. It could have been a full-rigged ship or a tiny fishing boat. A needle in a haystack? That would be child's play to find, compared to one unnamed craft in all of southeast England.
Captain Crowe came to his feet. He put a hand at the small of his back as he turned to me. “Ye're like a dithering bodach,” he said. “Will ye help me here, or no?” Then he glowered at Mathew and Harry. “Shove off, the pair o' ye now,” he barked. “I dinna care a hoot if the halyards are coiled; it's no a royal yacht that ye're on.”
Larson, his ashen face still uncovered, his eyes still barely open, seemed to watch me from his shroud. As the
Dragon
sailed along and Dasher steered us south, the dead man's head rocked slowly side to side, as though he shook it at me sadly in its ragged strip of sailcloth.
It wasn't mere chance that had brought him to the
Dragon.
He had come to me for help, and I felt I owed him that. I picked up the map and the letter and leapt to my feet.
“Captain Crowe,” I said, “set a course for France.”
Chapter 7
A D READFUL C URSE
“F or France, ye say?” Captain Crowe stared at me with a look of utter amazement. “For France?” he said again. “Did I hear ye right?”
“Isn't the
Dragon
as fast as any ship around?” I asked. “Couldn't we sail to France before the smugglers and get the brandy that's waiting for them? Couldn't we make the signal they would make?”
I opened the book and tapped the pages. “It's only a pair of flags. The blue peter and the yellow jack. We could hoist them ourselves, Captain Crowe.”
It seemed his eyes might pop from his head. He looked at me in the same astounded way that a visitor to Bedlam would stare at the lunatics. And I heard the excitement in my voice, and blushed.
“It's foolish,” I said. “Isn't it?”
“Foolish?” said he. “Not at a', lad.”
The sun rolled out from behind the jib, and his shadowleapt across the deck to tangle at my feet. “Aye, we'll go across,” he said. “If we crowd on sail, there's nary a ship can match the
Dragon.
We'll fill her every inch wi' tubs o' brandy.” He laughed out loud. “It's a bonny scheme,” he said. “It's a bonny, bonny scheme.”
“But then,” I said, “it's straight to London. No matter what my father told you, I want to follow my own instructions.”
A dark expression came over his face. I realized he was getting angry, very quickly. His fingers tightened into fists.
“So that's the lay o' the land, is it?” he said. “Ye sense a little profit here for yourself and your father.”
“Wait,” I said, “I-”
“Ye sail into London wi' sixty tubs o' spirits that cost ye not a farthing. Och, I see your game.” He stepped toward me, so close I felt his breath upon my face. “Weel, I'm the master and ye're a boy, and ye '11 do whit I say. Now gie me that.” He snatched away the map and the letter. Then he looked at the book in my hands and snatched that too. He ripped from its back the pages I'd shown him, and crumpled in his fist all the details of the smuggling run. The rest of the book he hurled back at me. It struck my chest and fell to the deck.
“You don't understand.” I bent down for the book, but Crowe put his foot on top of it.
“We'll go to France for the brandy,” he said. “But we'll no be taking it up to London.”
“I
“Och, whit good does that do ye, then?” asked Captain Crowe. “There must be a thousand craft setting sail today, frae a hundred ports o' call on a hundred leagues o' coastline.” He shook his head. “Laddie, ye're looking for a needle in a haystack.”
What he said was true, and it took the wind from my sails in an instant. The mysterious smuggler could have been anywhere at all from London round to Devon – still in port or far at sea. It could have been a full-rigged ship or a tiny fishing boat. A needle in a haystack? That would be child's play to find, compared to one unnamed craft in all of southeast England.
Captain Crowe came to his feet. He put a hand at the small of his back as he turned to me. “Ye're like a dithering bodach,” he said. “Will ye help me here, or no?” Then he glowered at Mathew and Harry. “Shove off, the pair o' ye now,” he barked. “I dinna care a hoot if the halyards are coiled; it's no a royal yacht that ye're on.”
Larson, his ashen face still uncovered, his eyes still barely open, seemed to watch me from his shroud. As the
Dragon
sailed along and Dasher steered us south, the dead man's head rocked slowly side to side, as though he shook it at me sadly in its ragged strip of sailcloth.
It wasn't mere chance that had brought him to the
Dragon.
He had come to me for help, and I felt I owed him that. I picked up the map and the letter and leapt to my feet.
“Captain Crowe,” I said, “set a course for France.”
Chapter 7
A D READFUL C URSE
“F or France, ye say?” Captain Crowe stared at me with a look of utter amazement. “For France?” he said again. “Did I hear ye right?”
“Isn't the
Dragon
as fast as any ship around?” I asked. “Couldn't we sail to France before the smugglers and get the brandy that's waiting for them? Couldn't we make the signal they would make?”
I opened the book and tapped the pages. “It's only a pair of flags. The blue peter and the yellow jack. We could hoist them ourselves, Captain Crowe.”
It seemed his eyes might pop from his head. He looked at me in the same astounded way that a visitor to Bedlam would stare at the lunatics. And I heard the excitement in my voice, and blushed.
“It's foolish,” I said. “Isn't it?”
“Foolish?” said he. “Not at a', lad.”
The sun rolled out from behind the jib, and his shadowleapt across the deck to tangle at my feet. “Aye, we'll go across,” he said. “If we crowd on sail, there's nary a ship can match the
Dragon.
We'll fill her every inch wi' tubs o' brandy.” He laughed out loud. “It's a bonny scheme,” he said. “It's a bonny, bonny scheme.”
“But then,” I said, “it's straight to London. No matter what my father told you, I want to follow my own instructions.”
A dark expression came over his face. I realized he was getting angry, very quickly. His fingers tightened into fists.
“So that's the lay o' the land, is it?” he said. “Ye sense a little profit here for yourself and your father.”
“Wait,” I said, “I-”
“Ye sail into London wi' sixty tubs o' spirits that cost ye not a farthing. Och, I see your game.” He stepped toward me, so close I felt his breath upon my face. “Weel, I'm the master and ye're a boy, and ye '11 do whit I say. Now gie me that.” He snatched away the map and the letter. Then he looked at the book in my hands and snatched that too. He ripped from its back the pages I'd shown him, and crumpled in his fist all the details of the smuggling run. The rest of the book he hurled back at me. It struck my chest and fell to the deck.
“You don't understand.” I bent down for the book, but Crowe put his foot on top of it.
“We'll go to France for the brandy,” he said. “But we'll no be taking it up to London.”
“I
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