"Aye, that's the signal." Mewes shoved the pipe into his pocket. "Want me to fetch the muskets?"
"Tell Joan to give you those two leaning in the corner, at the back. I just got through priming them."
Mewes vaulted the steps leading to the open tavern door. Seconds later, Joan appeared, holding the two flintlocks.
"What is it, darlin'?" Her eyes were bloodshot with fatigue. "Are we finally due for some company?"
"Right on schedule. The surf's been down all day. I figured they'd try it tonight." He finished tapping the ball down the muzzle of the musket, then placed the gun carefully on the step. "I guess that means I win our wager."
"God's blood, I never thought it'd come to this. I was sure they'd never have the brass to try it." She passed him the muskets. "So we'll be going to war after all. I'd wager you another shilling you'll not hold them off, darlin', save there'd be no way to collect if I won."
"All wagers are off now. This one's too hard to call." He handed one of the flintlocks to John Mewes, then cocked the other and aimed it into the dark night air. "Ready, John?"
"Aye." Mewes cocked the musket and aimed it at the sliver of moon on the western horizon. "Tell me again. The signal for Jamestown's one shot, a count of five, another shot, a count of ten, and then the third?"
"That's it."
"Fire when ready."