Mirza Nuruddin studied the three ivories indifferently as he drew on his hookah. But traces of a smile showed at the corner of his lips and his foggy eyes sparkled for an instant.
"You see, Captain Hawksworth, you never know the hand of fortune till you play to the end." He motioned to a servant. "Refresh the English captain's glass. I think he's starting to learn our game."
The longboat scraped crazily across the deck and into the surf. Then another wave washed over the deck, chilling the half-naked seamen who struggled to secure the longboat's line. Two chests of silver bullion, newly hoisted from the hold, were now wedged against the mainmast. Elkington clung to their handles, shouting between waves for the seamen to lower them into the longboat.
Mackintosh ignored him.
"Hoist the line to the poop. We'll board her from the stern gallery. Take the longboat under and drop a ladder. You and you, Garway and Davies, bring the line about, to the gallery rail."
The current tugged at the longboat, but its line held secure and the seamen passed the end up the companionway and toward the stern gallery, where the rope ladder was being played out.
"The longboat'll not take all the men and the silver. Blessed Jesus, there's ten thousand pound sterling in these chests." Elkington gasped as another wave washed over him, sending his hat into the surf. He seized a running seaman by the neck and yanked him toward the chests. "Take one end, you whoreson bastard, and help hoist it through the companionway to the poop."
But the man twisted free and disappeared toward the stem. With an oath, Elkington began dragging the chest across the deck and down the companionway. By the time he reached the gallery, the ladder had already been dropped into the longboat.
And five seamen were waiting with half-pikes.
"I'll send you to hell if you try loadin' that chest." Bosun's mate John Garway held his pike in Elkington's face. "We'll all not make it as 'tis."