Haitian Gold Read online

  “We should have a word,” I said.

  He nodded and we went below to the captain’s cabin. The room was much as I had left it, but I couldn’t help but notice the collection of empty rum bottles had grown. Rhames had made it his own.

  “You and the men still feeling the need to plunder?” I asked.

  He rubbed the stubble on his face, a reminder of his past. “It’s what we know.”

  “You saw what the Navy did to Gasparilla and the Floridablanca. England, France and Spain all have squads out looking for pirates. I’m afraid our vocation may be at an end.”

  He looked down at the deck. “I suppose you have a better plan.”

  I went to the door and opened it to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then came back inside. “I do. That gold bar in the chest.”

  “What of it?” he asked.

  “What if I was to tell you that there is one hundred times that?”

  I had his interest.

  “Go on,” he said.

  I told him everything I knew about the treasure and about Pierre, including the conversation I saw him and his men having in the hold the night before.

  His expression changed with that piece of information. “That seals it then. If that man is plotting, we need to put a stop to it.”

  “So we remain together as one crew?” I needed to hear him say the words.

  “I’ll put it to the men, but I expect that gold bar has their attention.”

  “So Haiti?”

  “Haiti it is,” he responded, and we grabbed each other’s forearms, both infected with the lure of gold.

  Chapter Eleven

  The dawn was just breaking when we weighed anchor and set off together. I was anxious to be out of these waters. By my calculations the debris from the frigate would have washed up on the beach at Grand Cayman the day before, and if there was pursuit it would be here soon. It had taken the last two days to make the Panther seaworthy, but we would need more time to disguise her. While we completed the work, the pirate ship, renamed the Caiman, was out for sea trials. Rhames assignment was to scout the other island for survivors and patrol the area.

  At first the trim of the Caiman was better and she moved ahead, but Mason took it as a competition, and after he was comfortable that the new mast was sound, he worked the crew relentlessly until we pulled even and then ahead.

  I had to admit relief when the bluff fell below the horizon. As the hours ticked by I had become more anxious and constantly scanned the seas for any ship flying the Union Jack.

  There had been no time to deal with Pierre and the other men. Our first order of business was to get underway, but now, as the boats cut easily through the light chop, tacking every few miles to hold the course just off the wind, it was time.

  Rhames and I had met and agreed to a truce, or more of a contract. It was clear that he commanded the Caiman and treated it as his ship, but the bulk of the treasure remained with me on the Panther. The captured pirates had been enlisted as part of his crew and we had decided that until we knew the mettle of the men, the treasure would be safer with Mason and me.

  Mason assigned the helm to one of the freemen who had an aptitude for navigation and we called for Pierre to come below to my cabin. The meeting had been staged in a way to make him comfortable. If indeed he knew of the treasure and where to find it, we would need his help. Of course, he would want something in return, but without him, the enterprise was dead.

  We sat around the table and I offered him wine, which he accepted, smiling as he brought the glass to his lips and tasted the sweet Madeira. Shayla sat to the side and translated.

  “You’ve every right to meet with any man on this ship, but if there is unrest I need to know about it,” I started, trying to put him at ease with my tone, though I knew he didn’t understand the words.

  “I wouldn’t say it’s unrest, Captain. More like homesickness.” He drained half his glass while she translated. “Some of us are not made for the sea, as you have probably observed. We miss our homeland. It was that we were talking about when you came across us. Merely how to talk you into taking us home.”

  If his intentions were truly this, then we had the foundation for an agreement. “What of the treasure? Would you seek it out?”

  “Though I suspect where it is hidden, I do not know the current political climate in my country. It would be a surer enterprise with your men and ships,” Shayla translated as he finished his wine, pushing the glass toward me to be filled before continuing.

  “How so?” I asked, refilling it.

  “The terrain is brutal. The mountains are high, some even covered with snow. The ravines are steep and treacherous. Then there are the bands of escaped slaves and natives who trust no one and would slit your throat before they asked your name.”

  “And what would you do if you found it?” I asked, trying to get to his motivation. Once I knew what drove him, it would be a simple matter to control him.

  Shayla listened closely as he talked and started, “Our nation has no chance if we cannot trade. It is all dreams these leaders have to be self-sufficient and not have to rely on the outside world, but that is not the way things work. They are just trying to enrich themselves, leaving their countrymen in poverty. Without trade we will become impoverished and seek wealth from within instead of trading with other nations.”

  His acumen was sharp and from what I knew of the island and the effect of greed on men, he was correct. Unless they could start paying off the English and become a recognized nation, they would falter at every turn. “You would give the treasure to the English to satisfy the agreement?”

  He looked at me and shook his head. “To those treacherous bastards, not a penny more than will keep them interested. They and the French are waging war across Europe. They need every ounce of gold they can find.” He pushed his glass forward again.

  “And what happens when we find the treasure?” I asked, ignoring his glass.

  “I would think for your help we would split the treasure.”

  The stakeholders: Rhames, Mason, Red, Swift, Phillip and I had talked about a deal before we had sailed and all agreed that a quarter was fair. If the treasure was indeed what he claimed there would be enough for everyone. There was also no way that we could penetrate the interior of the island without his help. White men roaming around the Haitian mountains would be killed on sight. Finally, after several terse exchanges, he agreed.

  “Right, then. We have a deal,” I filled his glass and went to the sideboard for the French captain’s chart of the island. I laid it on the table and all three of us rose and studied it.

  “Where do we make port?” Mason asked.

  Pierre placed a finger over a small cove and spoke to Shayla.

  She paused before translating. “You’ll want to stay to sea around the Isle de la Tortue, what we call Tortuga.” I looked at Shayla to elaborate and she shrugged, then asked him another question.

  “Pirates,” she said.

  I didn’t like the look of the cove. It was protected, but too exposed. I told her my concerns and waited while they spoke.

  “There is a river here. He says that once we are several miles inland there is no one that can contest our boats and weapons. The ships can wait here.” He pointed to a large enclosed bay.

  I didn’t like the looks of that either. The estuary was large but the entrance was narrow and we could easily be blockaded inside. There were several Bahamian islands close by: Great Inagua and the Turks and Caicos to the north, where the ships could hole up while we made our journey into the interior.

  I had to think quickly, so I took to the rigging. Shayla followed behind me, but she must have sensed my mood and left me to think. We needed the strongest men on the expedition and Mason was the logical choice to command the ships in my absence. I decided on Rhames, Lucy, Blue, Red and myself from our crew and Pierre and four of the other natives to accompany us. Ten people would be small enough for two boats, but a large enough force
if we needed to fight.

  “I can tell from your mood that you’ve made a decision,” Shayla said and moved closer.

  I enjoyed being here with her and let the silence encompass us for a few minutes. We would have several days before we sighted Tortuga and I decided to put off telling her our plan. “We’ve got something to work with,” I said elusively. Of course she didn’t let me off that easily and questioned me until she had most of the story.

  “You’re going to leave me, then,” she said.

  I left the comment in the air when I saw Pott on deck for the first time in days. I went to kiss her, catching only her cheek when she turned her head away and climbed down.

  “You’re looking better every day,” I said to the man and he smiled.

  He nodded. “May I ask our destination? Jamaica is to the south.”

  I was surprised at his dead reckoning. We were heading east through the Windward Passage between Jamaica and Cuba. An idea came to me that would serve two purposes. “I was thinking about taking you ashore in the Bahamas. Great Inagua.” There would be little in the way of force there, but it was a large enough colony to have a magistrate to take his testimony. We needed to provision for the expedition, and having to sneak into Haiti, I didn’t expect to find a trading post willing to deal with us there. If we had a good audience with the magistrate we might even leave one of the ships there while the other took us across to Haiti. I went to the helm to give the new course.

  I called up to the rigging to fly the red pennant that would signal the Caiman to our side and waited. It took a half an hour for the two boats to come together and Rhames stood across from me. I told him in vague terms, as we were in easy earshot of the entire crew, that we were diverting to the Bahamas, where Pott would testify and we would provision the ships.

  He had little choice other than to go along with us until we could speak privately, and he called to the helm of the Caiman to follow our course.

  Chapter Twelve

  We turned to the north after passing the tip of Cuba and our sails greedily grabbed the trade winds blowing from the southeast. Having sailed these waters only weeks before, we had decided it was better to stay away from Jamaica. If the governor of the Caymans had sent warning to any other colonies, the news would have reached Kingston first. Staying off the coast of Spanish Cuba was a safer bet. In the distance we could see the mountains of Haiti off the starboard rail and Pierre joined me at the wheel.

  Great Inagua was fifty miles off and with our current speed of six knots we would make her sometime late that night. Every chart I had seen showed a dangerous reef to the south, near the only town. Rather than chance the shoal in the dark, I decided to furl the topsails and reef the mains. The order was carried out efficiently and I immediately noticed our speed drop. The log line dropped and I waited for the call. We were down to three knots, putting us off the coast late the next morning.

  Shayla saw Pierre by me and came over. I smiled at her. “Can you ask him if he’s made a list of what we need?”

  She listened while he spoke. “Yes, but he’s not sure whether we can find the supplies.”

  We’d been improvising for so long, his nervousness didn’t bother me, but looking at the mountains in the distance, I reconsidered. They rose high above the sea, their tops hidden by the low clouds.

  I steered, enjoying the open water and good conditions. My mind was clear for the first time in weeks. Without the plague of Rory, our ship’s hold full of treasure, and a new adventure on the horizon—life was indeed good.

  We approached the harbor in Great Inagua the next morning and saw a half dozen ships anchored off the coast. With the glass in one hand I climbed into the rigging to evaluate the situation. Thankfully, they all looked to be traders. His Majesty’s Navy was not represented. The harbor was deep and well protected. Both boats were soon anchored.

  I called for Pott, and along with Mason and two crewmen we climbed down to the waiting skiff. The governor’s man seemed nervous and I hoped he had not changed his attitude.

  “You ready for this?” I asked him.

  He nodded. “It may not be as easy as you think. I’m committed, but you have to know that each of these islands is a man’s fiefdom and there’s no telling how he will react.”

  I knew he was right after our dealings with the governor in Grand Cayman, so I left him to his thoughts. There was no future for him if he crossed us.

  The men rowed the easy quarter mile to the town and I stood on shore for the first time since leaving Cuba weeks before. I swayed back and forth, waiting for my legs to adjust, as we walked towards the center of the small city.

  The buildings were much the same as Grand Cayman: mud daub huts with several more substantial structures near the center of town. We went to the first stone building and asked where we could find the governor’s representative. A toothless man gave us a queer look and pointed down the street to a small rise where a wood-framed house stood, its windows wide open to the sea breeze.

  I sent Mason and the men to look for provisions. Pott and I walked alone to the house. I knew what we looked like and did not want to alarm the man before we had a chance to explain ourselves. A servant met us at the door and left us waiting for the magistrate in the foyer, where we stood for almost half an hour without refreshment. Even the governor of the Caymans had been more hospitable. The arrival of two unknown ships had surely been brought to his attention and I worried about the delay. Finally the servant reappeared and led us to a balcony off the back of the house, where a middle-aged man sat, balding and wet with perspiration.

  Without rising, he introduced himself in a gruff tone through a cloud of cigar smoke. “Thomas Milword, at your service.”

  I introduced myself and when I told him Pott’s name, I caught a brief change in his expression. “We have two ships anchored in the harbor.”

  “What’s your business here?” he said.

  I saw him studying Pott without trying to be obvious and wondered if the two men knew each other. “Just a quick stopover to provision.” I ventured a glance at Pott for confirmation, but he was staring at the floor.

  “Don’t have much but salt, but if you’ve money, we’ll take it—and not ask too many questions.” He laughed.

  “There is one other matter we would like to broach with you,” I said.

  He looked at Pott and I knew there was something between the men. “Mr. Pott would like to testify to the activities of our crew over the last few weeks.”

  “And why is that?” he asked, now openly staring at the man by my side. I felt him slither behind me.

  “We had a bit of a problem in Grand Cayman. A misunderstanding with the governor there and we would like to get on record with a British authority what happened. Mr. Pott was in the governor’s employ and can bear witness to everything that transpired.”

  “So, Pott. I thought it was you,” he said.

  Pott’s expression remained stoic. “Yes, Thomas.”

  I tried to decide from their faces whether this was a good or bad development and quickly decided it was the latter. There was no love lost here.

  “May we have a word?” I asked the magistrate.

  He puffed his cigar and let the smoke clear before responding. “I think not. Guards!” he yelled.

  I looked around, but there was no place to run. We were on a second-story balcony at least a dozen feet from the ground. Seconds later, two uniformed men emerged and Pott was taken into custody. I got up to protest but, realizing it was futile, I looked to see if there were more men waiting for me. Pott had been right about the power-seeking men running these islands. The magistrate and I stared at each other for a brief second.

  “If you are innocent as you say, there will be no problem with a search of your ship.”

  There was nothing to be done now. A negative response would have Pott and me in adjoining cells. I nodded, turned and, with my heart beating so hard I could feel it in my ears, left the house.

  I trie
d to slow my pace and appear unworried about what had happened. As I made my way down the path to the water, I looked back to see Pott being led inland.

  I met up with Mason and the men at the skiff. I told him of the arrest and we were silent until the skiff reached the stern of the Caiman. This was where Rhames excelled and we needed to bring him up to date on the events. I called Swift and Red over and the six of us moved to the rail out of earshot of the crew.

  “Leave the bugger,” Rhames said after we told him what had happened. “There’s nothing good going to come out of that needle-nosed, penny-pinching piece of lying crap,” he spat.

  I expected this from him and let him finish his tirade. “He’s all that,” I agreed. “But we need him. The magistrate has no love for him and will likely torture him to get him to say whatever he wants.”

  “We’re already labeled pirates. What’s to change that?” Red asked.

  My plan to clear our names had failed and I saw its flaws. “Some of the silver in the bilge will,” I said.

  They stared at me, wondering why I hadn’t learned my lesson about giving away our treasure. I had tried before to negotiate with William Bodden, the governor of the Caymans, for a Letter of Marque, but that too had failed. “Captured, Pott can do us more harm than good. I’m betting that if we bring a few of those silver ballasts to the magistrate and tell him it’s the crown’s share from the wreck, he’ll change his tune. Maybe promise him a share of the treasure in Haiti for his protection. There’s little chance for him to make any coin on this spit of sand. I’ve got a plan to make him a deal he can’t refuse.”

  They fought me at first, but after explaining the alternative and having our ship searched, they finally agreed. It was one thing to use some of the silver ballast to gain favor, another to reveal Gasparilla’s treasure.

  I went alone to the magistrate’s house, not wanting to endanger anyone else if my offer went badly. I knew there was the risk that he would imprison me and take our ships, but without any military force in the harbor, I expected he would negotiate.