The maneuver puzzled Froan, and he turned to the burly crewman rowing beside him, one of the captain’s men named Snapper. “Where are we headed?” asked Froan. “Fer the fens. Ye can’t outrow a war boat.” Froan glanced toward the other vessel and noted it was already in pursuit and gaining. “You mean the captain intends to run aground?” “There’s precious little ground in that stinkin’ bog, as ye should know. Our cap’s lookin’ fer a place to hide. Mayhap he’ll find one. If not, ’tis the poles fer sure.” Froan glanced at the southern shore. As far as he could determine, it was a solid wall of reeds. As the pirates rowed closer to it, his impression didn’t change. “Bog Rat!” bellowed the captain, “climb the mast and guide me to a channel that’ll take us out o’ sight. One that goes far in, but don’t get us stuck. Fail me, and Ah’ll gut ye like a fish.” Telk left his oar and shimmied up the mast. When the boat neared the bog’s outer edge, he called out.
