Fair Blows the Wind: A Novel
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His father killed by the British and his home burned, young Tatton Chantry left Ireland to make his fortune and regain the land that was rightfully his. Schooled along the way in the use of arms, Chantry arrives in London a wiser and far more dangerous man. He invests in trading ventures, but on a voyage to the New World his party is attacked by Indians and he is marooned in the untamed wilderness of the Carolina coast. It is in this darkest time, when everything seems lost, that Chantry encounters a remarkable opportunity. . . . Suddenly all his dreams are within reach: extraordinary wealth, his family land, and the heart of a Peruvian beauty. But first he must survive Indians, pirates, and a rogue swordsman who has vowed to see him dead.
position. Now I am nobody, but I am happy.” I wanted to ask him more, but something in me warned against it, and I did not. That night beside the fire changed me. From being a fugitive I had found a place. The following day, six miles further along the way, I met the gypsy. What his name was, I never knew. Nor why they called him Kory, which was not his name. He was a gypsy not of this land, but of Hungary, Rumania, or somewhere yonder. His wagon was alone when we came upon it, and he was
too. Then I drank, and I drank again. Refreshed, I looked around. A few trees bordered the stream, nothing else. At last, fearfully hungry, I got to my feet. Stooping to pick up my staff, I almost fell again. I started downstream. For some inexplicable reason I was heading for the sea. What awaited me there I did not know, except that to me it symbolized escape. At the sea began all things—and ended all things, perhaps. In which direction was I pointed? To another beginning, or to an end? I
upon this lonely, far-off shore? They have killed some of those who came with me, but was I seen? Is it possible that I escaped notice? Do they know that I am here? Do they delay killing me only to despoil those already slain? If they know I live they will stalk and find me, and surely, then, they will kill me. Nor can they fail to discover me if they but look, for the belt of brush and dwarfed trees that borders the shore is sparse indeed. Beyond me lies the open sand and then the sea. We had
can . . . on the condition that I accompany you. I wish to return to Europe.” “Of course. You can do the work tomorrow?” “If I have one man.” I indicated the Basque. “We have talked about it. Together, I think it can be done.” “Very well. In the morning, then.” Darkness had come, and their fire burned just as bright as before. No sentries had been put out. I accepted the food Conchita, the Indian girl, brought to me, and I ate alone in silence. It was just as well, for I had much thinking to
for Armand and Felipe, although the former, having been a fisherman, had picked up some words of English. The original plan of the Good Catherine had been to trade to the south as far as the mouth of the Savannah River, avoiding any contact with the Spanish, and then to turn about and come back up the coast. This she might already have done, although I'd been but a few days ashore and doubted there had been time. There was every chance she might come again along the coast. She might and she