The Plurality of Worlds. Brian Stableford
had to pause in his thoughts to bark further orders to the men aboard the Golden Hind as the pinnace came alongside. By the time the landing-party was back on board, with the pinnace lifted up and its meager cargo unloaded, the ship was already putting on sail and the anchor was ready to be raised. Drake snatched the telescope from his kinsman and began to climb the rigging himself to use it to best effect.
The vessels were coming together rapidly now, although the Hind was merely waiting, and Drake was able to take the other vessel’s measure. She was bigger than the Hind, but not as well-crafted. She was moving swiftly, but that was because she was riding high in the water, evidently carrying very little cargo. The Hind was fully-laden, as she had had to be for an expedition into unknown waters, with landfalls likely to be very few and far between.
Martin had confirmed that there was another island beyond the tiny one he had seen. If the other captain was sailing without a full complement of necessary supplies, Drake reasoned, he must have come from that isle, and must have a secure base there—but there was no need for further speculation. Whether its lookout had a telescope or not, the master of the other ship had to know by now that the Golden Hind was heavily armed; even so, the vessel kept sailing dead ahead, intent on a rendezvous.
Damn you! Drake thought, bitterly. Damn you to Hell, whoever you are! He knew, though, that it was a thought he would have to keep to himself.
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