"Aye, we invited ourselves in and rifled what we could find. But there's pitiful little left, save batches of moldy tobacco waitin' to be shipped."
"Damn. Then we'll just have to sail with what we've got." Winston turned and stared down the shore. There had not been any provisions off-loaded from Europe since the fleet arrived. There were no ships in the harbor now, save the Defiance and the Zeelander.
The Zeelander.
"When's the last time you saw Ruyters?"
"This very mornin', as't happens. He came nosing by to enquire how it was we're afloat, and I told him it must've been the tide lifted her off." Mewes turned and peered through the rain toward the Dutch frigate. "What're you thinking?"
"I'm thinking he still owes me a man, a Spaniard by the name of Vargas, which I've yet to collect."
"That damned Butterbox'll be in no mood to accommodate you, I swear it."
"All the same, we made a bargain. I want you and some of the boys to go over and settle it." He thumbed at the Zeelander, lodged in the sand not two hundred yards down the beach. "In the meantime, I have to go back up to Joan's and collect . . . a few things. Why don't you try and find Ruyters? Get that Spaniard, however you have to do it, and maybe see if he'll part with any of their biscuit."
"Aye, I'll tend to it." He turned to go.
"And John . . ." Winston waved him back.