“Ready, men?” MacKim commanded the shore party, comprising ten Rangers and half a dozen seamen under a petty officer, Charles Williams, who also acted as the ship’s cooper. The seamen took the oars and pushed off, with the stars brilliant overhead, but only a sliver of a moon.
“Easy, men,” Williams cautioned.
Phosphorescence from the surf highlighted the shoreline as the bulk of Cuba was dark and mysterious in the background.
The seamen rowed with muffled oars, pieces of canvas in the rowlocks to blanket any sound. When one man raised a splash, Williams snarled in a savage whisper, threatening dire consequences if any seaman caught a crab that might alert Douce Vengeance a quarter of a mile away.
Douce Vengeance “Keep it steady, boys.” MacKim looked over the familiar, sun-browned faces
