“Much good that’ll be,” said Boulter scornfully. “They won’t care a fig for warrants or anything but swords and firelocks. You ought to have took a boatload of soldiers, that’s what I say.”
“Ay, it’s easy to say, but it couldn’t be done. Well, what you can’t help, make the best of. I tell you this: that Portugal ship, leastways the Merry Maid, shan’t get out of the river if I can help it.”
Martin was half-inclined to regard the pursuit as a wild-goose chase, and Hopton had nothing to say to encourage him; but uncertainty gave a spice to the adventure, and they felt a pleasant thrill of anticipation.
By the time they reached Woolwich the tide had turned, and Boulter thought it well to pull to the shore, partly for rest and food, partly to seek out his friends, enquire of them whether they had noticed the Portugal ship, and try to enlist their help. Luckily he came upon two watermen whom he knew well, and who were disengaged. From them he learnt that the vessel had passed about three hours before; she had tow boats out, towing her, and it was a matter of speculation on the riverside why her crew were putting themselves to so much exertion in such hot weather.
Gollop’s face fell when he heard this news. It was clear that Blackbeard expected pursuit, and was making all possible speed to evade it. Boulter’s friends agreed to join the expedition, under promise of a good reward if it proved successful, and the boat set off again after half an hour’s delay, the fresh oarsmen making good progress even against the tide. When all four men were pulling its pace was noticeably rapid, and at Erith, six miles beyond Woolwich, Gollop was delighted to learn on enquiry from an upgoing barge that the Merry Maid was now little more than two hours ahead.
Hour after hour the rowers plied their oars, taking turns to rest in couples. Martin and the old Frenchman, who had been up all night, fell asleep on their seats, and when they awoke it was five o’clock in the afternoon, and the boat was approaching Gravesend. Here Gollop decided to go ashore, for as the day wore on he had become less confident, and recognised that if Blackbeard and his crew resisted the arrest of the ship the pursuers, hopelessly outnumbered, would not be able to enforce it unless they could engage a party adequately armed.
Both he and Boulter had acquaintances among the mariners of Gravesend, but some of these were absent from their usual haunts, having been drawn to London by the prospect of making money out of the Fire. Those who remained showed themselves distrustful and suspicious; they were not to be tempted to lend their services in a cause that might fail; and Gollop, angry and troubled, made his way to the office of the Customs officer of the port, and sought his aid as a brother man of the law. The officer appeared to resent this claim of relationship, and treated the constable very off-handedly.
“Let me see this warrant you talk of,” he said, and when Gollop produced the scrap of paper, creased, oddly-shaped, its edges frayed and scorched, he sniffed. “I cannot act on this,” he said. “It is not drawn up in proper form. The Santa Maria has cleared; she is bound for Lisbon, the port of an ally; she is beyond my jurisdiction.”
At this Gollop lost his temper.
“You and your long words!” he said. “That there vessel ain’t a Portugal ship; she’s English from stem to stern; don’t I know? You’re neglecting of your duty, master officer, and I’ll take good care that them above you hear about it and you’ll get a rough hauling, my fine fellow.”