"When a woman is allowed to sit in council with warriors, there are always damnable complications." Atiba reached and helped one of the English seamen in. "She would not have us act as men and kill the whoresons both. So she is still up there on the mountain, holding a musket."
"You're not a better man if you murder their militia." Katherine scowled at him. "After you take a place, you only need hold it."
"That is the weak way of a woman, senhora." He glanced toward the hill as again their oars flashed in the moonlight. "It is not the warrior way."
Winston grimaced, but said nothing, knowing the killing could be far from over.
In only minutes they had skirted the bay and were approaching the river mouth. As their dugouts veered into the Rio Cobre, the whitecaps gave way to placid ripples. The tide had just begun running out, and the surface of the water was flawless, reflecting back the half-moon. Now they were surrounded by palms, and beyond, dense forests. Since the rainy season was past, the river itself had grown shallow, with wide sand bars to navigate. But a quarter mile farther and they would be beneath the fort.
"Jamaica, at last." Winston grinned and dipped a hand into the cool river.
Katherine gazed up at the Passage Fort, now a sharp silhouette in the moonlight. It had turrets at each corner and a wide breastwork, from which a row of eighteen-pound culverin projected, hard fingers against the sky. "I just pray our welcome celebration isn't too well attended."
As they rowed slowly up the river, the first traces of dawn were beginning to show in the east. She realized their attack
would have to come quickly now. Even though the vigia had been silenced, sentries would doubtless be posted around the fort. There still could be a bloody fight with small arms if they were spotted in time for the Spaniards to martial the militia inside. Let one sentry sound the alarm and all surprise would be lost.
"I think we'd best beach somewhere along here." Bartholomew was sounding with an oar. The river was growing increasingly sandy and shallow. "She's down to no more'n half a fathom."