Cammock glanced at him for a second. “Lots of dirty pubs ashore there,” he said coldly. He turned to look again at the man-of-war.
He was not too far from her to see that she was casting loose her forecastle gun. He looked bitterly at Stukeley. “I wonder what you’ve done, my duck,” he said under his breath. He walked up to the little group by the mizen shrouds; he wished not to annoy the lady.
“Captain Margaret, sir,” he said. “May I just speak to you a moment?”
His owner stepped aside with him.
“Look here, sir,” he said hurriedly, “the man-of-war’s going to fire on us. I don’t know what reasons you may have for taking these people aboard. But the man’s escaping from justice, and the lady’s been bamboozled. In another ten ticks you’ll have a round-shot into you. Now, sir, is it fair? A round-shot may kill and maim you a dozen hands, with the decks so busy as they are. Let me heave her to, sir. The man’s a damned scum. And it’s hanging if you’re caught.”
Perrin joined them, leaving Olivia alone. Her husband was talking to the helmsman, getting no answer.
“Charles, for the Lord’s sake, send them in,” said Perrin. “Do, for the Lord’s sake, think what you’re doing. You’ll ruin yourself. You’ll wreck the cruise. You simply can’t have them aboard. Look at that great hulking beast abaft there.”
“Hi, you,” called Cammock angrily. “Clear away from the helm there.”
Stukeley stared at him, much surprised.
“Yes, I mean you,” said Cammock.