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Rackham. He alone knew that there were other vessels than the
Kingston
on the coast that night, and he was taking no chances.
    For several minutes they sat motionless, the little boat riding the swell, waiting to catch the flicker of a lantern from the ship. Then Malloy snapped his fingers and pointed, over to starboard. Following his finger they saw it: a single murkyglimmer in the darkness which vanished almost as quickly as it had come.
    â€˜Pull,’ snapped Rackham. ‘Those blasted farmers are so far east they’ll be in Africa before we can catch ’em!’
    But Ben and Bull needed no urging. They swung on the oars like men rowing a race, driving the little boat towards the spot where the light had vanished, and suddenly the great bulk of the ship loomed above them out of the blackness.
    â€˜â€˜Vast heaving,’ said Rackham. ‘It’s
Kingston.
Give them a hail, Malloy.’
    Malloy stood up, one hand braced against the thwart, the other cupped to his mouth.
    â€˜
Kingston
, ahoy! It’s Cap’n Rackham!’
    And pat on the heels of his cry, like the voice of an actor on his cue, came back an answering hail. But it was not from the
Kingston.
Somewhere in the darkness to the eastward, a voice rang out: ‘In the King’s name!’
    Even Rackham, prepared as he was for some intervention, was startled into an oath. That hail had certainly not been more than a quarter of a mile away, which meant that Rogers’ ship, somewhere out there in the darkness, had carried out its task to perfection.
    Bull heaved himself up with a roar of blasphemous astonishment, stumbled against Malloy and nearly sent him into the sea. The boat swung out of control, with Bull’s oar floating away behind it, and then Ben brought her head round to the
Kingston
.
    From the sounds that drifted down from the
Kingston
, the ship must have been thrown into utter confusion. A harsh New England voice which Rackham recognised as that of Bennett, his sailing master, was trying to issue orders through the tumult of shouts and fearful questions that had brokenthe stupified silence following that command from the darkness. And then the noise was stilled as though each man’s throat had been choked simultaneously.
    A broad blade of flame licked out suddenly in the blackness to the eastward, dwindled, kindled, and blossomed into a great torch that illumined the sea and flung the
Kingston
into sharp silhouette against its crimson glare. While Rackham stared the drift of the boat carried them into the
Kingston
’s shadow and he realised that they were in danger of slipping out of reach of the ship, crippled as they were by the loss of an oar.
    â€˜Pull!’ he shouted, and Ben flung his weight on the remaining oar. Rackham thrust the tiller over and they edged in towards the
Kingston
’s side.
    Bull was shattering the night with his bawling. He was of the slow-witted kind who, when danger appears unheralded, must first of all identify it loudly for their own benefit and that of their fellows.
    â€˜It’s the King’s men!’ he roared. ‘It’s the King’s men!’
    The nose of the boat thumped the
Kingston
’s side. The arrival of the King’s force had been premature, and might have been disastrous with Rackham still in the boat when the success of Rogers’ plan demanded that he should be on the
Kingston
to supervise her surrender. Every second counted, for at any moment Bennett might open fire and ruin all. He swung himself on to the rail and took in at a glance the astonishing scene. Beyond the
Kingston
the sea was as bright as day, revealing three fully manned longboats within two cables’ lengths of the
Kingston
, and behind them, on the verge of that great circle of light, towering over the scene, a tall ship which could be nothing other than a man-of-war.
    Rackham, gaining the deck, saw at once what had produced the dazzling light which illuminated