Buccaneer by Dudley Pope

Wilson whispered. “Money? I have a thousand pounds. It’s yours now. I never really wanted Kingsnorth: Aurelia drove me to it. She loved it and wanted it for herself – you know how selfish the rich are. I promise you I’ll speak to the Governor. You’ll be able to stay here: don’t sail, there’s no need. You’ll be safe at Kingsnorth: just let me go into Bridgetown…”
    “Be quiet,” Yorke snapped, “you disgust me.” He turned and pointed along the beach to the southward. “Start walking. It’s five miles before you reach your home. Or maybe,” he added sarcastically, “you would sooner go straight to Bridgetown. Come on,” he said to his men, and began walking towards the Griffin , picking up his shoes on the way. He cut the reins and unstrapped the saddle from Wilson’s horse, giving them to one of the men. “Go to the end of the jetty and toss them into the sea.” He touched another man on the shoulder. “Lead this beast up to the track, head it northwards towards Mr Alston’s plantation, and give it a sharp crack across the rump.”
    Back on board the Griffin an excited Saxby wanted all the details but he groaned when Yorke ended his story by describing how he had set Wilson walking back home along the beach.
    “You should’ve put him away, sir; cut his throat. If you didn’t want to dirty your hands, one of the others would’ve obliged.”
    “It’s not as simple as that.”
    “I know sir, talking to Mrs Wilson knowing you’ve had her husband done in,” he said, and Yorke was grateful for the man’s choice of the word ‘talking’, “but that man can be the death of us all.” Saxby’s voice showed the depth of his hatred and fear of Wilson.
    Yorke said reassuringly: “We’ll be sailing in an hour, just as soon as a breeze picks up, and we’ll never see him or the island again.”
    By now his six men were back on board the Griffin and asking Saxby what to do with their muskets and pistols. “Leave them with the others by the mast. Make sure they’re not cocked,” the master said. “We’ll unload and grease them once we’re at sea.”
    Aurelia, cross from being told by Saxby to stay below in Ned’s cabin and alarmed by all the shouting, seemed to have given up hope of ever seeing him again and when Ned tried to tease her into relaxing said flatly: “Not until I say goodbye to Barbados. Walter escaped even though you tied him to the bed. He raised the you and cry.”
    “Hue,” he corrected gently. “But it doesn’t matter: we’re sailing soon.”
    “Why not now? Why do we wait?”
    “For some wind. There’s hardly a zephyr at the moment.”
    She held his arm, as if seeking reassurance. “The wind – it will come before daylight?”
    Ned smiled. “We can’t command the wind, but it is increasing. In an hour we’ll have enough to take us clear of the coast. Be patient, beloved; only one more hour…”
    Ned was on deck talking to Saxby, the two men watching the clouds as they passed the moon and feeling the wind on their cheeks. Both agreed that it had increased slightly and, with clouds becoming more frequent, there would soon be a sufficient breeze to cast off.
    “One thing about going,” Saxby commented, “we don’t have to rebuild this jetty.”
    “It’s creaking enough with us alongside, even though there’s no wind!”
    “Aye sir. If we had to be alongside in a stiff breeze, t’wouldn’t surprise me if we carried the whole jetty away with us.”
    “We’d arrive at our destination with our own jetty alongside. Might be useful!”
    “Jokin’ apart, sir, I wasn’t looking forward to drivin’ new piles. Enough trouble building this one. But the ship worms have chewed it so bad that most of the piles are three quarters eaten through. That provost marshal was lucky; he moored up his horses at the end where the piles don’t get wet so the ship worms haven’t been at ’em. If they’d come ten yards nearer the whole thing would’ve collapsed