Page 77 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Would they hunt at night?” Captain Mercantile asked Erroll out of the corner of his mouth.

“Wild boar or deer, perhaps,” Erroll answered, “but they would have to know the land. Since I do not recognize the captain, I doubt that is the case.”

“If you are certain you do not need anything…” Erroll called to Captain Johnson.

“No, but I thank you.”

Erroll waved goodbye, and he and Captain Mercantile started down the stairs to the main deck. “Have your men set sail.”

“Lee-ho,” the captain called out.

“Lee-ho,” the first mate repeated in a loud voice.

Then Mercantile called, “Ready about.” The first mate repeated the order as Mercantile said to Erroll, “What do you think they’re up to?”

“Smuggling.”

“French brandy?”

“There is little else of worth to smuggle these days. But this cove is too far north for him to have come from Fort William, which makes me curious why he lied.” They reached the stairs leading below deck. “There’s a tiny cove just up the coast. The cliffs on the shore are higher than those here, so they cannot spot our masts as we did theirs. We will put in there. I’ll go ashore and double back to have a look.”

“They may sail before you return.”

“True, but we cannot risk a confrontation. Did you see the swivel guns mounted on the outside of the hull?”

“I did,” Captain Mercantile said.

“They even had a howitzer,” Erroll said. “You have some fine cannons on this collier, and a good crew, but I suspect those smugglers are better armed than your sailors. I also have the ladies to consider. Please inform me when we reach the cove.”

Half an hour later, Erroll jumped from the jollyboat into the calf deep water at the shore of the small cove. The two men with him hopped out and the three of them pulled the boat onto shore. They hiked into the trees, over the hill, and finally reached the edge of the trees on the other side. The brigantine remained anchored in the cove, and the clouds parted to illuminate two longboats beached on the shore.

“So the buggers went ashore after all,” Joseph said in a thick Irish brogue.

Erroll scanned the beach with the spyglass. “Indeed.”

Clouds marched across the moon in a steady stream and Erroll watched through the spyglass in the intermittent gloom. They waited fifteen minutes before men emerged from the trees. Erroll counted eight young men and boys herded by four burly sailors. Anger whipped through him. He’d expected illicit contraband, not slavers. In a flood of moonlight, Erroll glimpsed Gordon and Nab, youths from a tiny village half a mile inland.

“Bloody hell,” Joseph snarled. “A press gang. I didn’t know the slavers worked the Inner Hebrides,”

“Neither did I,” Erroll replied. “Aberdeen is their main hunting ground. So much for Parliament abolishing slavery this past week. I wager Captain Johnson steered clear of the main cities in case citizens decided to take the new law into their own hands. That may explain why he’s keeping to the coast.”

“Bastards,” Erroll’s second companion, David, cursed.

“We can’t let them sail,” Joseph said.

“I agree,” Erroll said. “But by the time we get the collier back here, they could be gone, and we have the women to consider.”

“I’ll swim out and board the bloody ship,” David said.

“Very brave of you,” Erroll said. “But we have no idea how large their crew is. I have only a single shot revolver, as do you gentlemen.”

“Two shots and powder.” David produced a pistol from the back of his waistband, then turned his hip slightly to reveal the pouch strapped to his belt.

“I have a knife,” Joseph said.

Erroll gave an approving nod. “Well done, but the odds are still very much against us. If we confront them in the collier, we could end up sinking the ship with the men chained below.”

Joseph cursed under his breath. “The men have a better chance if we let the slavers take them.”