Deakin showed huge yellow teeth through his beard at this threat, then rumbled out a laugh and turned. He set off for the southeast with Crawford beside him, while the men draggled after them and cast frightened glances at the desolate expanse of ice, now cracking and groaning and heaving from the rise of water below. No word was spoken. Since the hour lay close upon noon, Crawford guessed that the Bostonnais and his men were hungry.
So far, so good, he reflected. Whether he could carry through the bluff was of no great consequence; he scarcely even thought of the issue. Since he dared not betray his real ignorance by asking any questions, he accompanied Deakin in silence until he made out a tracery of spars lying ahead. Presently he discovered that the fur-pirate lay barely three miles away from the Northstar, in under the frowning cliffs of the mainland and close to the great cape itself.
Closer approach showed the Boston ship to be a large square-rigged corvette carrying three heavy guns to a side; by name, the Albemarle. When he found that Deakin had nearly thirty men aboard his rover, Crawford grimaced at thought of his little bark with her crew of fourteen. Presently they were up the side of the ice-gripped corvette, and Crawford followed his host aft to the main cabin. A wild, shaggy crew of men they were who stared at him, and scurvy had brushed some of them with its hideous hand.
Once down below, Crawford seated himself alone with Deakin, and a lanky boy fetched them pannikins of food and mugs of grog. A boatswain entered and asked for orders; Deakin gave them curtly, crisply, and dipped fingers in pannikin again. Crawford perceived that while this man was uncouth as any bear, he yet possessed strange depths of bravery, treachery, perhaps madness.
“And now to talk!” Deakin swigged his rum, accepted the tobacco Crawford offered, and made a light. “What force have ye? Half down with scurvy, I’ll warrant.”
“Force enough, and not a touch of scurvy so far.”
“That’s a lie,” was the blunt response. Crawford’s blue eyes narrowed.
“Softly, Master Deakin! Once for that word is enough. Any more of it and I’ll put steel into you! Guard your tongue better. Who was that man mangled by the bear?”
“My lieutenant.” Deakin gazed unwinkingly at his visitor. In his bold stare lay a more deadly menace than that which Crawford had just put into voice. “Had been three year with me. What sort o’ ship have ye got?”
“A bark.” Crawford put the light to his pipe and puffed. “I’m no pirate, as ye miscall me. I’ve no interest in furs or gain. I’m looking for the place that’s over the horizon, and count on getting help from you.”