Chapter 4
Duncan paused on his way to the wharves to examine the wounded crewman slumped against the tree, who had suffered a bad gash on his forearm. “Ishmael saw to it,” the man said, and Duncan nodded with approval at the dressing of moss and cobwebs, the native remedy for hemorrhaging wounds.
“Nae trouble yerself,” the man said as Duncan studied another wound on his head. “A snippet of rum and I’ll be right as rain. ’Tis the captain who needs ye, in the far storehouse. He’s got the bastard with ’im,” he said, pointing to a row of crude structures that ran along the waterfront.
A crewman of the Arabella was standing guard at the door of the shed and waved Duncan inside. The captain sat at one end of a table of rough-hewn timbers on which two candles burned. At the other end a battere
