The Wreck of the Ten Sail Page 7

  “Is he who he says he is?” I wanted the words back as soon as they left my mouth. “Sorry, that was badly put.”

  “I hear what you’re asking.” She tilted her head back. “If you’re to rely on his advice, you ought to know if it’s good.”

  I looked at her skin glowing in the moonlight and I almost lost my train of thought. This was one of those moments where it was better not to talk. I concentrated on steering the next wave and waited for her to continue.

  “He tells it true. He’s been landlocked since the wreck in ’94. The Wreck of the Ten Sail. He’s not had the desire for the sea since.”

  “But he seems anxious to talk about the treasure,” I responded, pressing her further. Like all other women I had dealings with, Shayla’s words were like a spell. They seemed woven especially to confuse me.

  “Rumors always floated around that he knew something about some mysterious hidden treasure. Ballast stones cast from silver, they say. Most thought he was crazy, but not all. That’s why Bodden kept him close. He set him up with the pub and gave us a way to earn a living so he could keep an eye on him. And...” Her words trailed off as she looked out to sea. “Bodden’s a greedy bastard,” she added.

  I agreed with her about the governor. “So why trust us?”

  “Some have ridiculed him, others called him an outright liar. Men have come and gone over the years, but none truly believed him, at least not enough to spend the time and gold it would take to raise the treasure.”

  She pointed to two porpoises following our wake and went to the rail to watch them. Her dress, if you could call it that, was translucent in the moonlight and I could see every curve of her body.

  She turned back to me. “You’re the first that understood it was real. Somehow my father sensed this about you.”

  “What about Bodden?”

  “Bodden,” she said in a tone I hadn’t heard from her before. “Bodden always gets what he wants. He thinks because he set us up, that we owe him, if you know what I mean.” She looked away.

  I was silent for a second, confused by what she said. She turned back to me and her look told the tale.

  “’Twas only a few times, but I’m glad to be free of it,” she said and moved back to my side.

  I tried to ignore her closeness by asking more questions. Clearly she was not going away, and I looked up at the moon to guess how much time remained until my watch ended. We talked about this and that, anything to lighten the mood after the revelation about her and the governor. I wondered if Rory was in the same predicament.

  Finally, Red came up and took the helm. After briefing him on our course and taking a last breath of fresh air, I nodded goodnight to the girl and went below.

  I thought she had remained on deck, but just as I was about to close the door to my cabin, she slid through the gap. I almost asked what she was doing, but the words never made it out of my mouth.

  In the glow of the moonlight I watched her pull the shift over her head, and there she was, standing naked in front of me. Again, I didn’t trust my voice. I was not inexperienced in these matters, but I had never been with a woman by her free will. That unnerved me.

  Before I could react, she came to me and the heat and passion of youth took over.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I awoke with the dawn when I heard the call of ‘land ho’. As I heard the men beating to quarters, I unwound myself from Shayla, immediately regretting our passion. Like the rising sun, Rory had come blazing back into my thoughts. For whatever reason, I still believed her to be true. A hard knock on the cabin door forced my remorse aside. I dressed and went on deck.

  Phillip and Mason were both at the helm and I couldn’t shake the look that passed between them as I approached. I did my best to ignore it, hoping the girl would give me a reprieve and remain below. Without comment, I took the spyglass and pointed it toward the point of land on our port side. The sea broke about fifty feet from shore, indicating a reef. I checked our course. We were a bit close for my liking, but when I looked over at Mason, I saw he was turning the wheel to allow us more leeway.

  The entire crew was on deck now, gathered at the rail, watching the passing land. We rounded the point and turned west, sailing a safe distance from the shore. We were on a run of close to six knots, I reckoned. The Panther had gained a few knots after the work we had done on the hull.

  An hour later, Phillip pointed to a protected bay and directed Mason into its opening—a perfect anchorage, except for the ship already there. From the stench of her, I knew her to be a slaver. There was no amount of lye that could rid a ship of the smell of misery and death. We were the same size and in better condition, so I doubted they would have any interest in trying us. Likely, they were there to raid—an act of desperation this close to Havana. Still, we anchored to port and reloaded the carronade facing the slaver, just in case.

  The old man was right. It was a good anchorage, a small bay with deep water and a small river running into it from the far end where we could replenish our water supply. I gathered the crew and gave orders before Rhames rowed Mason and me to shore. As we passed the slaver, a chill ran through my spine.

  It was strange how different the land here was for being only two days’ sail away from Grand Cayman. From the ship I had seen the hills, peaks reaching into the low clouds and descending into green cane fields. Thankfully, there was little sign of the sharp, jagged rocks that had cut me on Cayman.

  We found a well-traveled path just beyond the beach and headed west towards Havana. Large sugarcane plantations were on our left, the green stalks stretching as far as we could see. After a few miles, the path became more of a road. We walked in silence, to prevent drawing attention—a smart choice, as most of our talk would have been of treasure. Lucy had wrapped my feet again before our journey, but now they were chafing against the boots.

  “What do you figure a horse goes for?” I asked. From the chart it looked like we had to cover sixty miles to reach the city. Besides my feet, I didn’t want to lose a week traveling there and back.

  “We’ve got enough silver. Maybe we can make a deal on a loan from one of these plantations,” Mason said.

  We walked another few miles, until a cart path intersected the road. A quarter mile in, I could see a large house. “Let’s give it a try.”

  An hour later we were a few pieces of silver lighter, but covering twice the ground. The horses were old and came with a stern warning to be easy on them, but it was better than walking—that was, until my bottom began to hurt. I had never ridden before and was soon feeling muscles I didn’t know I had. Mason had said it took some time to get used to, but after a few hours I was done for the day.

  “It’s almost dark. Why don’t we find a place to make camp?” I said.

  Blue, who had been trotting a little ahead of us, turned back. “I find a spot.”

  He increased his pace, amazing me with his energy. Mason and I dismounted and led the two worn-out horses to a pool of rainwater. We waited until they drank their fill, then moved away before the mosquitoes showed up. Blue was back quickly and led us to a protected clearing off the road. The site had been used, and there was a fire pit, but we decided to forgo a fire so we could remain concealed.

  We sat quietly eating dried turtle meat and some bananas that Blue had foraged. I tried to relax, but the two women were still competing for time in my head. I needed to stop the chatter. I did the only thing I could think of and asked Mason about the treasure.

  “It’s there, all right. I spent an hour or so talking to Phillip last night. He was on the ship that carried it. We went into the hold and I showed him the ballast. He confirmed that it was one and the same. Damn clever way to move wealth.”

  I had to agree, and it made sense. Gasparilla had told me about the privateers. Legal pirates commissioned by countries on the continent, allowed to roam freely, enrich themselves and their benefactors at the expense of the merchant trade. In the last years of the eighteenth century, th
e Caribbean had been a free-for-all.

  “Phillip told me that over fifty ships left Port Royal in the group that wrecked in the Caymans,” Mason continued. “But the convoys often got split up by weather, leaving them easy prey for the rogues prowling the sea. As a safeguard, the British began casting their wealth into common objects for transport, hoping they might be overlooked in a raid.”

  “Did all the ships do this?” I asked.

  “Not all. But the Ludlow certainly did, and the old man knows where she is. Unfortunately, she’s too deep to free-dive. A trained man might reach sixty feet, but he wouldn’t have the ability to explore. And the silver’s in the bilge.”

  “So how do we get the treasure?” I asked.

  “Only way I reckon we can explore is to use the headgear I told you about. That way you can be supplied by air from a pump on the surface.”

  “So, no one’s ever done it?” I asked, suddenly alarmed that we had taken such a gamble to come here, and now relied on a method that was mostly untested. Despite the uncertainty I was still intrigued. “You know what we need, then?” I was trusting Mason more than I probably should have. I had to admit, part of me was excited by the venture.

  “Got a list in my head. Shouldn’t be too much. Some leather, hose, a bit of glass and some hardware.” He paused. “And a pump.”

  That shouldn’t be too hard to find, I thought and realized we would need a cart to carry it all back. I was suddenly glad for the horses, even though I still felt the soreness in my privates. As tired as I was, sleep eluded me. My thoughts wavered between the two women and the treasure. I tried to find a comfortable position to rest and put all of it out of my mind.

  We spent the night on the ground in the clearing and set off at dawn, following the same road. It was dull traveling overland, passing nothing but acre after acre of sugarcane, but, by nightfall of the second day, Mason said we were less than a day away. I slept better that night, my body now accustomed to the horses and my feet almost totally healed. I was excited to see Havana. It would be the first real city I had seen in over five years.

  ***

  I knew we were getting close. People of all kinds were on the road now, some walking, others riding. Several large carriages passed by, their occupants concealed behind curtains. Finally, near dusk, we reached the city, but Mason thought it better to wait and camp one more night. He knew the dangers of an unknown city after dark and, despite my eagerness, I succumbed to his wisdom. We were eating the last of our turtle and making plans for the next day, when Blue appeared.

  Not comfortable with horses, he had traveled by foot, the mode of transport more suitable for the pygmy. But now he was more agitated than I had seen him before.

  “It is bad here, Mr. Nick. Many people give the evil eye.”

  “We are only traders here, Blue. No one knows our purpose.”

  “They know Englishmen have money to spend. But Blue will watch them.”

  “Thank you. We should take turns on watch tonight,” I said to Mason. He agreed.

  It was another sleepless night for me. Although we were not in the city itself, we were close enough to smell it, and there was traffic coming and going late into the night.

  I felt like I had just fallen asleep when Mason woke me. It was about an hour after dawn and the road was already choked with merchants bringing all manner of goods and livestock into the city. We fell in behind one group, walking our horses and trying to blend in. Blue had disappeared again, but I knew he was watching.

  After all the waiting, I had to admit I was disappointed. Havana had a unique waterfront with old forts and buildings, but the market was smelly and crowded with people pushing and arguing in Spanish, of which I knew few words. The streets were narrow, their ruts full of muck. Reluctantly, we found a stable and paid the owner a few bits of silver to feed and water our horses, then set off on foot.

  It was a simple matter finding the goods Mason needed, although, looking at the pile in the cart, I had no idea how it would all go together. Still, Mason seemed happy enough.

  As the afternoon wore on, the atmosphere in the streets grew seedier. Whores and drunks now pushed through the crowds and I suspected there was a fair amount of thieving as well. I was anxious to leave the city and get back to the ship. We reached the stable, hitched the cart to one of the horses, and, as quick as we could, made our way out of the town.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I might not have had the years, but I had been around long enough to know that when things are too easy, trouble is in the air. The second day of our return trip was uneventful and we camped by a small stream that night. I finally got as close to a full night’s sleep as our watch schedule would allow and woke somewhat refreshed. But the dawn sky that morning showed red and we were without shelter. The only logical course was to make haste and hopefully reach the ship before the weather came ashore.

  We were making good time, so good that I had almost forgotten the warning of the dawn sky. We returned the horses and soon we were pushing the cart the last mile to the beach. It was the kind of storm that came on you in a second. At sea, you could see them moving across the water, although there was rarely anything you could do about them except ride them out and try and avoid the waterspouts that accompanied the violent squalls. On land, though, there was less time to prepare.

  The wind gave us a brief warning as it stirred the palm trees, but there was nothing to be done except put our heads down and push on. Within seconds the deluge filled the ruts dug into the path, instantly turning them to mud and cutting our speed by more than half. After only a few minutes, we were exhausted and stood to ease our backs and catch our breath.

  The horsemen were upon us almost immediately. Without the bellowing of the storm, we could have heard them a good way off and cleared the road, but now it was too late. Even Blue was caught by surprise.

  “You two, move on and no trouble will come to you,” one of the men said, his floppy hat dripping water over his face. Without a word, another man trotted forward and lassoed Blue, tugging the line tight when it hit his waist. For such a small man, Blue was stronger and quicker than he looked, but was unable to escape the rope. The raider looped the end over the horn of the saddle and backed his horse away from us.

  The visibility was so diminished by the rain that Blue and his captors were out of sight in seconds. I made a move to give chase, but Mason held me back.

  “Nothing we can do,” he said, holding me until they were long gone. As if its work were done, the rain ceased falling.

  I stepped out of Mason’s grip. “Well, we can’t leave him.” I threw up my hands in disgust at my inability to keep the crew together. Life was hard enough trying to shed the pirates’ skin, but having a crew member taken hostage every time we seemed to accomplish something made the task impossible.

  “We need to get this stuff back to the ship,” Mason instructed. “Then we can mount a search party.”

  He was right. There was no other option. We dumped the water from the cart and put our backs to the work. Thankfully the ground had absorbed the rain and we were on the beach in under an hour. I waved to the Panther, hoping there was a watch.

  ***

  “There was some activity on the beach here not too long ago, and it looks like the slaver’s about to pull anchor,” Rhames said as we pushed the skiff into the small surf. The water was flat and he had chosen to come alone to pick us up. “Thought I saw that little bugger of yours in the crowd of darkies they took on board.”

  I moved next to him on the bench so we could each pull an oar. The clouds were parting and the storm was moving west. Mason sat in the bow, his hand to his brow to cut the glare from the sun. “The slaver’s raising anchor,” he said.

  From where we sat, I heard the chain scrape against the hull as the crew pulled it aboard, and then the snap of the sails catching the wind.

  “Pull harder,” I said as Rhames and I increased speed. Almost at the Panther now, I screamed at the top of m
y lungs to loose a volley and weigh anchor. The crew moved quickly, with Phillip and his daughter taking to the rigging to raise the sails and Swift and Red pulling the anchor. With the three of us still in the skiff, the ship was badly undermanned.

  We were at the bow now. “Forget the anchor,” I yelled. “Let them have a shot of the grape.”

  They ran for the cannon and I hoped they could get a shot at the slaver before she was out of range. It would take a lucky blast to cripple her, but it was worth a try, and grape shot was the best choice. A single ball had little chance of doing any damage, but the damage that could be inflicted by a well-placed smaller shot could disable a ship.

  Rhames had done his part, and it was obvious the men had been busy in our absence. I saw stacks of shot and rocks from the stream wrapped in canvas bundles sized for a tight fit in the barrel. Several larger rocks were stacked nearby as well.

  “Drop us here,” I said to Rhames as I grabbed a rusty link. “Mason, follow me.” I started pulling myself hand over hand up the chain. The second I crested the rail, I yelled to the crew.

  “Fire!”

  The ship shook from the volley as I vaulted myself on deck. Quickly, I made my way to the capstan and helped haul the anchor aboard. Our mooring was shallow and the heavy hook came aboard quickly.

  I patted Mason on the shoulder. “Take the wheel and have Rhames take charge of the munitions.” He nodded and made his way to the helm as I jumped into the rigging. I had no pride in doing a seaman’s work, and knew Rhames was better in battle and Mason was better with the ship.

  I scurried up the rigging by the foremast and went to the spar of the topsail, almost falling when the ship rocked again from the guns. Smoke drifted up to conceal any view I had of the damage we may have caused. I raised the topsail, and before the wind could take it, I dropped to the main and raised it as well. The boat lurched forward, slowly picking up speed as the wind filled the sails. I dropped from the foremast rigging and went to the main, where I repeated the process. Mason had Swift and Red rigging the foresails, and within minutes we were under full canvas and in pursuit of the slaver.