"You are right, senor," Vargas continued as they steered on around the Point. "I have often wondered myself why there was no port city out here. Perhaps it is because this island has nothing but stupid _agricultores_. "

Their tiny armada of dugouts glided quickly across the strait, then hugged the sh.o.r.e, headed toward the mouth of the Rio Cobre. Now they were directly under the _vigia_.

As they rowed past, five figures suddenly emerged from the trees and began wading toward them. Winston immediately signaled the dugouts to put in.

Atiba was grinning as he hoisted himself over the side. "It was simple." He settled among the seamen. "There were only two wh.o.r.eson Spaniards."

"Where's Serina?" Katherine scanned the empty sh.o.r.eline. "Did anything happen?"

"When a woman is allowed to sit in council with warriors, there are always d.a.m.nable complications." Atiba reached and helped one of the English seamen in. "She would not have us act as men and kill the wh.o.r.esons both. So she is still up there on the mountain, holding a musket."

"You're not a better man if you murder their militia." Katherine scowled at him. "After you take a place, you only need hold it."

"That is the weak way of a woman, senhora." He glanced toward the hill as again their oars flashed in the moonlight. "It is not the warrior way."

Winston grimaced, but said nothing, knowing the killing could be far from over.

In only minutes they had skirted the bay and were approaching the river mouth. As their dugouts veered into the Rio Cobre, the whitecaps gave way to placid ripples. The tide had just begun running out, and the surface of the water was flawless, reflecting back the half-moon. Now they were surrounded by palms, and beyond, dense forests. Since the rainy season was past, the river itself had grown shallow, with wide sand bars to navigate. But a quarter mile farther and they would be beneath the fort.

"Jamaica, at last." Winston grinned and dipped a hand into the cool river.

Katherine gazed up at the Pa.s.sage Fort, now a sharp silhouette in the moonlight. It had turrets at each corner and a wide breastwork, from which a row of eighteen-pound culverin projected, hard fingers against the sky. "I just pray our welcome celebration isn't too well attended."

As they rowed slowly up the river, the first traces of dawn were beginning to show in the east. She realized their attack

would have to come quickly now. Even though the _vigia_ had been silenced, sentries would doubtless be posted around the fort. There still could be a b.l.o.o.d.y fight with small arms if they were spotted in time for the Spaniards to martial the militia inside. Let one sentry sound the alarm and all surprise would be lost.

"I think we'd best beach somewhere along here." Bartholomew was sounding with an oar. The river was growing increasingly sandy and shallow. "She's down to no more'n half a fathom."

"Besides that, it's starting to get light now." Winston nodded concurrence. "Much farther and they might spy us. Signal the lads behind to put in."

"Aye." He turned and motioned with his oar. Quickly and silently the dugouts veered into the banks and the men began climbing over the sides. As they waded through the mud, each carrying a flintlock musket and a pike, they dragged the dugouts ash.o.r.e and into the brush.

"All right, masters." Winston walked down the line as they began to form ranks. "We want to try taking this place without alerting the whole island. If we can do that, then the Spaniards'll not have time to evacuate the town. Remember anything we take in either place will be divided according to the Articles drawn. Any man who doesn't share what he finds will be judged by the rest, and may G.o.d have mercy on him." He turned and gazed up the hill. There was a single trail leading through the forest. "So look lively, masters. Let's make quick work of this."

As they headed up the incline, the men carefully holding their bandoliers to prevent rattling, they could clearly see the fort above the trees. Now lights began to flicker along the front of the breastwork, torches. Next, excited voices began to filter down, faint in the morning air.

Armando Vargas had moved alongside Winston, his eyes narrow beneath his helmet and his weathered face grim. He

listened a moment longer, then whispered, "I fear something may have gone wrong, senor."

"What are they saying?" Winston was checking the prime on his pistols.

"I think I hear orders to run out the cannon." He paused to listen.

"Could they have spotted our masts over at the _cayo_? It is getting light now. Or perhaps an alert was sounded by the _vigia_ after all."

He glared pointedly back toward Atiba. "Perhaps it was not so secure as we were told."

Behind them the seamen had begun readying their flintlocks. Though they appeared disorganized, they handled their muskets with practiced ease.

They were not raw recruits like Barbados' militia; these were fighting men with long experience.

They continued quickly and silently up the path. Now the moon had begun to grow pale with the approach of day, and as they neared the rear of the fortress they could see the details of its stonework. The outside walls were only slightly higher than a man's head, easy enough to scale with grapples if need be.

As they emerged at the edge of the clearing, Winston suddenly realized that the heavy wooden door at the rear of the fort was already ajar.

Good Christ, we can just walk in.

He turned and signaled for the men to group. "It's time, masters.

Vargas thinks they may have spotted our masts, over at the Point, and started to ready the guns." His voice was just above a whisper. "In any case, we'll need to move fast. I'll lead, with my lads. After we're inside, the rest of you hit it with a second wave. We'll rush the sentries, then take any guards. After that we'll attend to the gunners, who like as not won't be armed."

Suddenly more shouts from inside the fort drifted across the clearing.

Vargas motioned for quiet, then glanced at Winston. "I hear one of them saying that they must send for the cavalry."

"Why?"

He paused. "I don't know what is happening, but they are very frightened in there, senor."

"Good G.o.d, if they get word back to the town, it's the end of any booty."

"Hugh, I don't like this." Katherine stared toward the fortress. There were no guards to be seen, no sentries. Everyone was inside, shouting.

"Maybe it's some kind of ruse. Something has gone terribly wrong."

"To tell the truth, I don't like it either." He c.o.c.ked his pistol and motioned the men forward. "Let's take it, masters."

Some fifty yards separated them from the open door as they began their dash forward across the clearing. Now they could hear the sound of cannon trucks rolling over paving stone as the guns were being set.

Only a few more feet remained. Would the door stay open? Why had there been no musket fire?

As Winston bounded up the stone steps leading to the door, hewn oak with iron brackets, still no alarm rose up, only shouts from the direction of the cannon at the front of the breastwork. He seized the handle and heaved it wide, then waved the others after him. Atiba was already at his side, cutla.s.s drawn.

Now they were racing down the dark stone corridor, a gothic arch above their heads, its racks of muskets untouched.

My G.o.d, he thought, they're not even going to be armed. Only a few feet more . . .

A deafening explosion sounded from the front, then a second and a third. Black smoke boiled up as a yell arose from the direction of the cannon. The guns of the fort had been fired.

When they emerged at the end of the corridor and into the smoky yard, Spanish militiamen were already rolling back

the ordnance to reload. The gunners froze and looked on dumbfounded.

"!Ingles Demonio!" One of them suddenly found his voice and yelled out, then threw himself face down on the paving stones. One after another, all the others followed. In moments only one man remained standing, a tall officer in a silver helmet. Winston realized he must be the gunnery commander.

He drew his sword, a long Toledo-steel blade, and stood defiantly facing Winston and the line of musketmen.

"No." Winston waved his pistol. "It's no use."

The commander paused, then stepped back and cursed his prostrate militiamen. Finally, with a look of infinite humiliation, he slowly slipped the sword back into its scabbard.

A cheer went up from the seamen, and several turned to head for the inner chambers of the fortress, to start the search for booty. Now the second wave of the attack force was pouring through the corridor.