‘Thank you.’

  ‘But you will still have to be punished.’

  T

  he next day, Tew posted double lookouts at the mastheads, and rotated them every two hours. Once, there was a rumour of a sail on the horizon, but it did not appear again. Every man was on edge. The crew could see the captain did not like this detour to South Carolina, playing Bracewell’s errand boy, and his mood infected them all.

  The heat rose further as they approached the Carolina shore. The sun had disappeared. Grey clouds pressed down on them, making the atmosphere hot and clammy. It reminded Rob of Christmas time at home in Nativity Bay, the humidity building as they waited for the January rains. At his first sight of land, the memory became more vivid still. The low-lying shore, fringed with mangrove swamps and muddy islets, could have been Africa. It made him think of his family. What were they doing now? Would they be down on the beach, skimming stones over the bay and watching for Rob’s return? Had they forgiven him?

  He wanted to go back. He wanted to take Sophie, to introduce her to his sister and show her off to his father. He wanted her to understand where he had come from, the soil of Africa where he was rooted.

  But he could not go back without the Neptune sword. Now that he knew who Baron Dartmouth really was, he was more determined than ever to get it back.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts, sir?’ murmured Angus beside him.

  Rob smiled sheepishly. ‘I was thinking of home.’

  ‘Mr Courtney.’ Tew’s voice carried the length of the ship, summoning him to the quarterdeck. ‘A word, if you please.’

  Rob joined him by the chart table. All the officers were assembled. Bracewell was there, but Sophie had kept to her cabin that morning. Rob wondered if she was aching as much as he was.

  ‘Seabrook Bay is a maze of islets and swamps,’ said Tew, sweeping his hand over the chart. ‘Even at high tide, we will struggle to get close to shore. At low tide, we risk running aground.’

  ‘If we were stranded, we would be sitting ducks for any rebels in the area,’ said Fawcett, the second lieutenant.

  Tew nodded. ‘Precisely. We will enter the bay as the tide is rising. From then, Mr Bracewell, you will have six hours to reach your house, retrieve your property and return to the ship before we weigh anchor.’

  ‘What is the nature of this property?’ asked Rob. ‘Is it heavy?’

  ‘A strongbox,’ said Bracewell. ‘Also, some servants of mine will be returning.’

  Tew’s face flashed with annoyance at the thought of more passengers being brought aboard his ship. He knew better than to argue with Bracewell.

  ‘I will lead the expedition,’ Rob volunteered.

  He was hungry for action, and eager to prove himself again to Sophie and her uncle.

  ‘Lieutenant Courtney, always eager to hog the glory,’ sneered Coyningham. ‘As first lieutenant, I should have the command.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Tew. ‘However, Lieutenant Courtney will go as second in command.’

  ‘Is that necessary?’ protested Coyningham. ‘Surely you will need Lieutenant Courtney aboard ship.’

  ‘My decision is final.’

  ‘My secretary, Crow, will accompany you,’ said Bracewell. ‘He can show you the way.’

  There was a loud crack behind them as Crow bit off a piece of sugar. Rob hadn’t heard him arrive. He crunched the sugar between his few remaining teeth, spittle running down his chin. With a brace of pistols tucked into his belt, he could have been taken for a pirate.

  As they made the final preparations, Tew took Rob to one side.

  ‘You know that the governor has issued a proclamation to free any loyal slaves?’ He handed Rob a stack of papers. ‘These are certificates which vouch for their freedom. Give them to any slave you see.’

  Rob looked at his captain in surprise. This was not part of their orders.

  ‘Why, sir?’

  Tew looked almost embarrassed. ‘Slavery is abhorrent,’ he said simply. He turned away, as if afraid of letting Rob see his emotion. ‘If there is anything we can do to help those poor souls, we should.’

  ‘You can rely on me, sir.’

  T

  hey set out in two boats, Coyningham in one and Rob in the other. Crow directed them through the shoals and mudbanks, into the mouth of a river that disgorged into the bay. It was an eerie place. In the distance, a few fishermen dug in the mud for shellfish. Through the trees that lined the riverbank, Rob caught glimpses of grand houses standing among green lawns. Sometimes the forest gave way to great open rice fields, connected to the river by sluice gates. Yet no one was at work, and weeds sprouted in the fields.

  ‘What has happened?’ Rob wondered.

  Crow gave him an evil grin. ‘The governor said the slaves could go free if they’d fight for England. Half of ’em ran, and them what stayed was locked up so they couldn’t follow the others.’

  Rob tried to make sense of it.

  ‘So the rebels who are fighting for liberty wish to keep slaves – and the British king who they claim will enslave them has actually freed the slaves.’

  Crow looked confused. ‘Man’s got a liberty to keep slaves,’ he said. ‘Or what’s the world come to?’

  Before Rob could reply, Crow pointed to a wooden landing stage protruding from the riverbank.

  ‘This is the place.’

  They rowed in and tied up the boats. Rob checked the pocket watch he had borrowed from Fawcett. Two hours had passed already.

  ‘How far to the house?’

  ‘Four miles,’ said Crow.

  An hour there, an hour back. It would be close.

  ‘We have no time to lose.’

  They set off at a fast pace down a track through the forest. The men bunched close to each other. On land, sailors and marines were like fish out of water. They looked around uneasily, brandishing their weapons at every sound.

  Bushes rustled in the road to their right. Instinctively, one of the marines raised his musket and fired. There was a scream. To Rob’s horror, three black women stumbled out of the undergrowth. They raised their hands in surrender.

  ‘Don’t shoot,’ they pleaded. ‘We loyal. We loyal.’

  Crow drew his pistol and aimed it at them.

  ‘Like hell you are. Runaways, more like.’

  Their leader dropped to her knees. She wore a short white shift, torn and stained by the forest.

  ‘We ain’t runaways. King George set us free.’

  ‘King George has no interest in you,’ said Coyningham curtly. ‘And we do not have time to delay.’ He turned to the marine lieutenant. ‘March on.’

  Before he could move, the woman threw her arms around his legs.

  ‘Please, sir,’ she begged. ‘We gonna starve in the forest. An’ there’s rebel troops up that road, horses and guns and everything.’

  Coyningham kicked her aside. ‘Get out of my way.’

  ‘Wait.’ Rob crouched beside her. He gave her his handkerchief to wipe her face. ‘Is it true there are rebel forces ahead?’

  She nodded, her eyes round and white with fear. ‘Hundreds of ’em, on the march from Charleston.’

  ‘And they have cannon?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  She raised her hand and pointed up the track. Then, slowly, she swept her arm around in an almost complete circle.

  ‘Everywhere?’

  She nodded.

  Rob lifted her to her feet.

  ‘Go down to the bay,’ he told her. ‘There is an English ship there. If you can reach it, her captain will give you shelter.’ He turned to Coyningham. ‘We must go back,’ he said. ‘If we continue, we will be cut off from the ship.’

  Crow growled, ‘Mr Bracewell needs his property.’

  ‘Of course he does,’ Coyningham agreed. ‘You are a greater fool than I thought if you believe the word of a darkie,’ he told Rob. ‘More probably the rebels put her there to frighten us. I doubt there are more than half a dozen of them, if there are any at all. One glimpse of our bayonets will send them fleeing.’ He laughed. ‘Once again, it seems you wish to run at the first hint of danger.’

  ‘It’s wrong to risk the men,’ Rob insisted. ‘They volunteered to serve the King – not Mr Bracewell.’

  ‘If you wish to go back to the Perseus and tell Mr Bracewell you did not have the stomach for it, you have my permission. Then his niece would see what manner of hero you truly are. But I am in command. We go on.’

  Rob had no choice. He could not return alone, and he would not abandon the men. But his worries deepened as they went on. The land around them was forest and thick swamps, perfect for an ambush. A dozen men could block the road completely. If they had a cannon, the Perseus’s men would be cut down like corn.

  The forest ended at a stone wall and an iron gate across the road. Stone sphinxes peered down from the gateposts. Beyond, a carriage drive led across lawns to a handsome red-brick house surrounded by a cluster of buildings. It had the forlorn atmosphere of an abandoned property.

  ‘Wait outside,’ Crow told the sailors. ‘I’ll be ten minutes.’

  ‘I will join you,’ said Coyningham. ‘Miss Bracewell asked me to retrieve a few of her personal effects.’

  Rob felt a flash of jealousy. Why had Sophie not asked him? What could she possibly want? He forced himself to stay impassive.

  The two men disappeared into the house. Rob and his men waited at the foot of the steps. Every second that passed, he felt the danger of the situation pressing in on them. The rebels could not be far off.

  Was it his imagination, or could he hear voices?

  ‘Search the outbuildings,’ he told Angus. ‘Make sure there is no-one spying on us.’

  Angus gave him a crooked look. ‘If this is a trap, we’re already in it.’

  He took two men and hurried across to the cluster of storehouses on the far side of the lawn. They checked inside two of the smaller huts, then approached a larger barn with a bar across its doors. Rob saw Angus stoop and peer through a crack in the boards, then hastily lift the bar.

  The doors burst open. Rob had been right – they were not alone – but it was not rebels he had heard. They were black people, men women and children who flooded out of the barn and ran towards the house shouting questions.

  ‘What is happening?’

  ‘Is massa coming?’

  ‘Where are the rebels?’

  Rob watched them in shock. Growing up at Nativity Bay, he was used to being among black people. But at home they had been proud and free, laughing and chattering as they worked. They could hunt and fight as well as anyone. The men and women here were different. They moved slowly, eyes downcast and backs stooped. Even the children clutching their mothers’ hands looked frightened, as if the spirit had been taken out of them.

  How long were they locked in that barn?

  Not all of them had been broken. One in particular caught Rob’s attention, a young woman of about eighteen. She wore a pretty calico dress, rather than the work clothes of the other slaves, and her slim arms had not been bulked up by labouring in the fields. She wore her hair pulled back from her face in a yellow scarf, emphasising her soft round features, her almond eyes and golden-brown skin.

  She was young, but despite her youth she had a poise and a maturity beyond her years. Rob could see women twice her age looking to her for guidance, while little girls hugged themselves against her skirts.

  Rob didn’t realise he’d been staring at her until she caught his eye. She didn’t flinch but held his gaze until Rob began to blush. There was defiance in her look, a strength that said no man could possess her. Unaccountably, Rob felt ashamed.

  He remembered Tew’s errand. He reached into his cartridge pouch, pulled out the certificates the captain had given him, and held them in the air.

  ‘I have an announcement to make,’ he said awkwardly.

  Fifty pairs of eyes stared dully at him.

  ‘The governor has decreed that any slave who will fight for the King shall have his freedom.’

  He peered at them, wondering if they had understood. There was no great joy on their faces. Some of them looked suspicious. One man, heavily tattooed with tribal markings, looked almost angry.

  ‘What trickery is this?’ he cried. ‘You think you can steal us?’

  ‘No trickery.’ Rob showed them the papers. ‘You see this stamp? That is the seal of King George. He will not betray you.’

  He read from the paper. ‘“I do hereby declare free all Indentured Servants, Negroes, or others that are able and willing to bear arms, they joining His Majesty’s troops as soon as may be, for the more speedily reducing this colony to a more proper sense of their duty.”’ He looked up. ‘Who will join us?’

  No one moved. Rob stepped down and approached the nearest slave, a man of about sixty with dark scars criss-crossing his back. Rob pressed one of the certificates into his hand.

  ‘You are free.’

  The man stumbled. One by one, Rob handed out certificates to all the slaves. They stared at the papers as if they could not comprehend their freedom.

  ‘Go down to the bay,’ said Rob. ‘There is a ship there that will give you safe passage.’

  He worried for a moment that the ship would be overloaded, but he couldn’t concern himself with that now. He trusted Tew to honour the king’s promise.

  None of the freed slaves made for the gates.

  ‘Go,’ Rob repeated. ‘Before the rebels come.’

  But they were not listening to Rob. They were looking to the man with the tattoos Rob had noticed earlier. He was not much older than Rob, but even in his slave rags he had a natural air of command. He frowned, considering, like a lion sniffing out the hunter’s hide. Wary of a trap.

  At last he spoke, in an African language that Rob could not understand. The others nodded. To Rob’s surprise, they began trooping back to the slave quarters to the rear of the mansion.

  ‘What did you tell them?’ he cried. ‘Would you condemn them to a life of servitude?’

  The big slave gave him a scornful look. ‘I tell them bring what they have. We are going.’

  ‘What is your name?’ Rob asked.

  ‘Scipio.’

  ‘Where are you from?’

  His eyes narrowed in an expression that said, without words, Why do you care?

  ‘I was born in Africa,’ said Rob.

  For the first time, he saw he’d penetrated the slave’s guard. Hostility gave way to curiosity.

  ‘I am Ebo tribe.’

  ‘And born to a noble house,’ Rob guessed. The elaborate designs down the man’s back marked him as a prince, as surely as Rob’s tattoo showed him to be a sailor.

  Scipio straightened and stretched out his arms. Muscles rippled along his naked torso, making the designs move like scale armour.

  ‘I am a prince from the line of Eri,’ he declared, and in that moment he looked every inch of it. ‘The mzungu steal me and bring me here.’

  ‘And now I have come to free you,’ said Rob. ‘Perhaps, when it is over, we will sail back to Africa together.’

  Scipio stared at him. His scarred face was a battlefield of emotions, suspicion and distrust warring with hope.

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked softly.

  ‘My name is Robert Courtney.’

  The slaves returned from their quarters, carrying bundles of various sizes wrapped up in blankets and kerchiefs. Inside, Rob could see pots and pans, mirrors, a few hand tools and bright pieces of cloth. Everything these people owned in the world. It reminded him of the loyalists abandoning Boston, but they had been kings compared with this.

  The slaves made a pitiful sight. Yet there was dignity, too. The despair Rob had seen earlier had gone, replaced with quiet determination. They all looked at Rob, waiting for his command.

  Rob felt something stir inside him. Under their gaze, he began to sense their pain. Torn from their homes and families, transported across the ocean to be worked like animals. And now they were looking to him.

  He cleared his throat. ‘I will not let you down,’ he promised.

  To Rob’s surprise, their faces fell. A second later, he realised why.

  ‘The hell you doing?’

  Crow and Coyningham had emerged from the front door of the house onto the steps behind Rob. Coyningham seemed to have a pile of petticoats in his arms, while behind him four sailors carried a sturdy strongbox.

  Crow surveyed the slaves with a curl of his lip.

  ‘Who said for you to muster the slaves?’

  ‘I am taking them back to the ship.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Crow. ‘But they don’t need them goods where they’re going.’

  Rob wondered what he meant. Then a cry went up from the slaves, shots were fired and he forgot all about it.

  The rebels had arrived.

  C

  al knew nothing about seamanship, but he could recognise skill when he saw it. Étienne’s handling of the Rapace had been superb. They had caught up with the Perseus much sooner than expected, thanks to a winter storm that had blown up from the Atlantic. The British frigate had taken the brunt of it, while the Rapace sat it out in a sheltered harbour. Since then, the Rapace had shadowed her prey for almost a thousand miles, lurking just below the horizon.

  ‘It is not hard,’ Étienne said, when Cal complimented him on his ability to track her. ‘We know she is sailing for Jamaica.’

  Then the Perseus turned west towards the coast of South Carolina. That confused her pursuers, until Cal looked at a chart.

  ‘According to the intelligence the general gave me,’ Cal said, ‘there is a man called Hezekiah Bracewell aboard that ship. He owns an estate here.’ He put his finger on a spot on the map marked Seabrook Bay. ‘I’ll wager all my prize money that is where they are going.’

  They had devised a plan. Cal had disembarked at Charleston to make contact with Continental forces in the area. Étienne had taken the Rapace to follow the Perseus.

  ‘We will rendezvous at Seabrook Bay, by sea and by land.’ Étienne closed his hands, interlocking the fingers like the jaws of a trap. ‘Then we will have the British at our mercy.’