Haitian Gold Page 3

  I moved to Pott and extended a ladle of water to him. “How are you?” I asked, as he drank eagerly and finally smiled.

  “The woman is a miracle. I don’t know if it was the work of God or the spirits she called, but I am healed,” he said. “Where are we? The last I remember was the cannon fire.”

  “Off the small island. We captured the pirate ship and her crew.”

  “Thought we were headed for Jamaica for me to give a statement.”

  “Things change. Both ships are in need of repair,” I said.

  I waited for him to drink his fill before questioning him further. I was starting to worry about the governor. Were it not for the battle with the pirate ship we would be in Jamaica by now, but our ships were crippled and only a day’s sail from Grand Cayman. These barren islands were still within his jurisdiction. I had only a few hours to figure out a plan before the men started to rise. From my experience with Gasparilla’s band, a hungover crew was as dangerous as a drunken one.

  Finally, Pott placed a hand up signaling that he’d had enough. I put the ladle back in the bucket and continued my questioning.

  “So tell me, what do you figure the governor’s next move will be?” I could only hope that he knew the mind of my adversary after being his right-hand man for so many years.

  He thought for a moment. “I don’t expect him to lick his wounds for long.” He rubbed his mouth where the abscess had been removed and smiled. “If I was him, I’d run to Jamaica as fast as I could and try and beat you to the local governor. Could be you’ll be all right here. It’s a ways from him, and without a real fleet he can’t chase you everywhere.”

  I knew he was probably right and relaxed slightly. Even though these atolls were part of the Cayman territory, they were seventy miles from the larger island, where the governor was based.

  “So you think we could hole up here and make repairs?” I asked.

  “Seems you don’t have much choice,” he said.

  He looked better and I extended an arm to help him to his feet. “Go on up and get some food. Most of the crew are sleeping off the rum they found. If I were you, I’d take to the cabin before they wake. They don’t trust you and it won’t help to be showing your face.” The governor had placed Pott and his sidekick on the Panther to oversee the recovery of the treasure. I knew the man to be shrewd, and despite his initial animosity, I had lobbied to save his life in exchange for his testimony. As for the sidekick, Rhames had dispatched him.

  Pott nodded in understanding. “Please extend my thanks to the woman,” he said and moved toward the ladder.

  “You can extend your gratitude by your testimony to the governor in Jamaica.”

  “I’ll do that, but what are your plans for me after that?” he asked.

  “We’ll see,” I answered.

  With sleep eluding me, I relieved the freedman and stayed on deck to watch the sunrise. In the dawn’s light, the pirate ship came into view and I studied her lines, surveying what damage our cannon had done to her. With her crew asleep and rigging in tatters, she had the feel of a ghost ship, but she would be repaired in a few days if there was no structural damage. The Panther was in worse condition. She needed a new mast. Between the two ships, we might be able to make one seaworthy vessel, but I wanted both.

  I turned to the island behind me and studied the shoreline. The outline of several large pine trees was visible in the growing light and I hoped one might be suitable for a new mast, but I would wait for Mason. He was the only man we had whom I trusted in such matters. A work schedule formed in my head and I was about to go below to write it down when I heard the first sign of activity from the pirate ship.

  Blue must have heard it too. He came beside me and we watched the ship together.

  “Men be mad,” he said.

  Mason appeared next to us. “Careful, they’re likely to be in a fighting mood,” he cautioned as I climbed down the ladder to the skiff.

  I rowed the skiff over to the pirate ship, tied the painter to the ladder and climbed onto the deck. Most of the men lay prone, having dropped where the alcohol had left them. Several were sitting up, rubbing their eyes. I moved through the group, thankful to see the previous occupants of the ship still tied around the mainmast. At least I only had three pirates to deal with. Finally I found Rhames near the forepeak.

  “Rhames,” I said, touching his shoulder.

  “Aye, Nick,” he said, lifting an eyebrow and slowly raising himself up onto one elbow.

  “We need to talk,” I said.

  “Aye, we do,” he replied, rubbing his eyes and starting to rise. “The boys and I have some ideas.”

  I tried not to react, but this was what I’d been afraid of. The three remaining men from Gasparilla’s crew were pirates at heart and I suspected they knew no other way. The thought of becoming legitimate was foreign to them.

  “All right,” I responded. “Get them together.”

  Rhames rose slowly and stumbled before he gained his footing and staggered toward the stern. As I waited, I worked my way among the men on deck, acknowledging as many as I had names for. I only had a few minutes before the fate of my command was decided and I needed the support of every man I could rouse. Rhames joined me back at the helm, followed by Swift and Red, shaking the cobwebs from their heads.

  “We’ve been talking about taking this ship, splitting the loot and getting on with it,” Rhames said slowly.

  I remained silent, both to give him some discomfort and to allow myself time to craft a reply. Splitting the treasure and ships was indeed a fair end to our relationship, but I knew that sooner rather than later he would be caught. Rhames, like most pirates, lived for the moment and had not the care or forethought to plan for the future. Besides, I had no doubt that, if they were captured, Red and Swift would turn on me in exchange for their lives. I needed to take control.

  “I thought the idea of amnesty appealed to you?” I asked. “It’ll take a few days to get the ships seaworthy, but after that we’ll make Jamaica in two days. It’ll be a small matter to have the governor’s man give his testimony.”

  “You think that’s going to work?” He spat over the rail. “They’ll see us for what we are the minute that sorry clerk is alone with them. He’ll say whatever they want to hear.”

  I hadn’t thought about Pott betraying us, especially after what Lucy had just done for him.

  “Leave Pott to me. He’s making noise like he wants to join us. Lucy pulled some foul thing from his mouth last night and—”

  “He’ll harbor a grudge against me for killing his man,” Rhames said, cutting me off before he spat again.

  “All the same, we can be a powerful force if we stay together.”

  “A force of what?” he asked. “That’s the problem with this treasure hunting idea of yours. Where do we go? At least with pirating, the decisions are easy.”

  I searched for an argument, but his mind seemed made up. With half the treasure and a ship, we would have find a place to hide the treasure. We would be vulnerable without the pirates. Mason was a good navigator and experienced salvage man, but lacked the shrewdness that came with the pirate mindset. Having Rhames, Red and Swift gave us a military advantage, and after all we’d been through I had come to trust and like the men. I needed a ploy to delay the vote.

  Chapter Six

  “I’ve a right to go through the captain’s log and papers before we part ways,” I said.

  Rhames looked at Swift and Red and the two pirates shrugged. “Aye, that is your right,” Rhames said before leaving me to wake the rest of the crew.

  Only slightly relieved, I entered the captain’s cabin and looked at the mess surrounding me. Logbooks and charts were scattered about the small room, and the smell of rum was strong, with empty bottles laying on the table and floor. It would take longer than I’d thought to sort this out, but any delay was good. I moved the bottles to the side and opened a porthole.

  The fresh air snapped my mind back to the t
ask and I started sorting the logbooks and charts, perusing each one, keeping an eye out for handwritten notes. I noticed several different styles of writing in the margins and thought these must have come from the ships the pirates had taken. Rhames and his men couldn’t read, so the logbooks would be of no use to them, but they understood the value of the charts and would never let them leave the ship. Still, I sorted the charts by language and soon had small piles of English and French. I couldn’t help but notice the French charts were all in the same hand and very detailed, but there was no French logbook to go with them. All of the logbooks were in English.

  I began my search for the missing logbooks when I heard someone at the door and turned to see William, one of the freedmen, in the entry.

  “Rhames says to tell you we haven’t got all day,” he said. “He intends to be underway before dark. He’s happy to send some men to split the treasure.”

  “I’ll only be a few more minutes. Just looking for the log.” I glanced at the charts and looked back at William. “You can read French, right?”

  “My duties require me to read and write in several languages,” he said.

  I needed him.

  “Please tell Rhames I’m working as fast as I can. Then come back and see if you can lend your eye to these.”

  While I waited for William to return, I searched the cabin. The French logbooks had to be here and I was intent on finding them before Rhames ran out of patience. Rather than keeping order, I started tossing everything, working from one corner of the small cabin to the other. I found several pistols and a small chest, but no logs. I smiled when I found a bound book under a false panel in the captain’s chest, but on inspecting it, I noticed it was barely maintained. The pages held only scant details, nothing like the carefully written notes and diagrams on the charts. It was a decoy. The real log would be hidden better.

  Finally I reached the bunk and tossed the mattress to the deck. Nothing. I was about to give up when I saw what looked like knife marks marring the edge of one of the boards making up the pallet. With my dagger, I pried the corners of the board and it came loose, but before I could see what the cavity held, Rhames appeared at the door. I sat on the bunk with my heart beating loudly in my chest, trying to hide my find. While he surveyed the disarray of the cabin, I thought how only the day before I would have readily shared this all with him.

  “Find what you’re looking for yet?” he asked. “The men are getting restless.”

  “There’s a chest of coin and some pistols there,” I offered, pointing to the chest.

  Rhames took a step forward, and at first I thought he was making a move for me and regretted not taking a pistol for myself, but he turned and went for the chest.

  “I haven’t found the key,” I said.

  “No worries there,” he said, stowing the chest under one arm.

  He left without a word and I knew I had some time. The chest looked substantial and I expected it would take some effort to open it. Besides, his greed would keep him at the task until it was complete.

  A moment later, William stood in the door and I motioned him to the pile of French charts on the table. While he examined them, I got up and stuck my hand through the open board. There were several books in the compartment and I soon understood why there was such an effort to keep them secret. They were the records from the ships the pirates had taken. There were five of them and I paged through them until I found the one with the distinctive handwriting of the Frenchman.

  Opening the French log, I saw the detail I knew was missing from the fake book. Though I couldn’t understand them, the notes were meticulous and the diagrams skillfully drawn. With the book, I went to William, who was studying the charts on the deep windowsill, where the light was better.

  I glanced over his shoulder at the chart spread before him. “Can you make anything out?” I asked.

  “Much about Haiti,” he said. “There’s more to it than is marked here, though.”

  I placed the logbook in front of him. “Maybe this will help.”

  He caressed the leather-bound cover and looked at me. “We need a place to talk.”

  I was intrigued but still hesitant to take anything. There was no telling the state of mind of the men after drinking the night before. “Do you need the charts or will the logbook suffice?”

  “There’s a mystery here. I think it will take both to find out what it is.”

  I heard activity on deck and figured we had little time. Haiti was not a place I would go willingly, but if there was a mystery in this part of the world, that meant there was treasure and that held my attention. The Frenchman’s handwriting made it clear that he was an educated man, and such a man would not chase a small treasure.

  I needed to see what Rhames was up to. “Keep reading,” I instructed William and left the cabin.

  The men were on their knees around the strongbox. Its lid was scarred and the lock dented from their attempts to open it. “Tough bugger,” I said. A chill went up my spine when they all turned to stare at me. “Might have seen a key in the cabin. I’ll be right back.”

  “Hide the chart in the book,” I told William while I feigned a search for the key. I hadn’t seen one, but as I pretended to look, an idea occurred to me. I went back to the bunk and stuck my hand in the hole, and, sure enough, far back in the corner my finger struck metal. I reached further in and extracted a ring with a dozen keys. “Hurry,” I told William and went back on deck.

  “Here. I’m betting it’s one of these.” I tossed the ring to Rhames, who grabbed it from the air and went to work on the lock. I was hoping it would take longer, but almost immediately one of the keys fit and Rhames gave me a queer look as he turned the lock. “It’s part mine too,” I said, standing my ground. Rhames grunted and lifted the lid.

  Jaws dropped but no sound came from the crews mouths as sunlight hit the gold bar Rhames held over his head. I had seen a lot of treasure over the years, but nothing like this. The bar was larger than his hand and clearly heavy. The circle tightened, each man eager for a closer look.

  “Get back, you bastards,” Rhames called out and set the bar back in the chest.

  He retreated slightly and allowed me to inspect the piece. I lifted the bar from the chest and turned it in my hands. After my years with Gasparilla, I knew what to look for. The gold was pure, with no sign of slag or impurities. But it was not the value of the gold that intrigued me. It was where it had come from. If someone had gone to the trouble to cast a bar this size, there must be more. I held the piece to the light, looking for any stamps or engravings on it, and noticed a small mark on the bottom.

  Wanting to make the find seem insignificant, I placed the bar back in the chest, turned away without comment and looked at the faces of the crew, trying to get a feel for how to play this. From the corner of my eye I saw William emerge from the companionway with the logbook under his arm. Every eye was on the chest and no one noticed him move to the stern. I was watching him as best I could to see if he was able to get off the ship when he stopped short of the ladder.

  “Sails!” he yelled and retreated from the rail.

  I only had to climb a few feet into the rigging to make out the tip of a mast on the horizon.

  Chapter Seven

  “Frigate!” I yelled and jumped down to the deck.

  Rhames and I exchanged looks. Our negotiation would have to wait. I looked toward the horizon, but the bluffs blocked the view of the ship. Not wanting to suffer the same fate as the day before, I carefully navigated the mess of tangled lines and spars hanging from the mast. Halfway up, I saw it.

  “She’s flying the Union Jack,” I yelled down to Rhames.

  “She seen us?” Rhames called back.

  The warship was still too far away to see if her gunports were open, but I studied her course. “If she hasn’t, she soon will.” The only frigate in these waters was under control of the governor and I suspected her watch had seen the rockets the night before. Fortunately we were i
n the lee of the island and the frigate would have to circle around it before it could reach us.

  There was no point in staring at it. I ordered two of the men to keep watch and climbed down to the deck. The men, still bleary-eyed from the night before, aware of the threat, were now on their feet and awaiting orders.

  I called for our depth and heard two fathoms called from the bow. “I’m not sure if we’re not better staying in the shallows,” I said to Rhames, Swift and Red, who were standing around me.

  “But she’ll blast us to high hell if we just sit here,” Rhames argued.

  He was right. We were in a bad spot.

  “We can’t run, and there’s not enough shallow water to hide in,” I said.

  “The treasure’s on the Panther. We could sacrifice this ship and try and save her,” Red said.

  Rhames glared at him and Red grew silent.

  The thought had crossed my mind. We could turn the ship into a pyre and send it toward the frigate, but it would have to make a direct hit, or else the frigate would evade it. The ploy might buy us some time, but the Panther was badly crippled and could not outrun the larger ship. We needed to even the score.

  “Check the powder stores,” I ordered Swift, then I called across the rail for Mason to come join us. An idea was forming in my head and it would take the coordination of both ships to pull it off. “How much time do you reckon we have?” I asked Rhames.

  “She’s going to have to tack at least twice to get around the island,” Rhames calculated. “I’d say an hour until we’re in range of her cannon.”

  “But she won’t open fire,” I said, “not with the treasure aboard.”

  “Aye. But there’s not much to stop her from setting up a broadside and holding us at bay while she boards. We’re sitting ducks,” Rhames explained.