by Peter Greene
“Aye,” said Steward, “I do. Jonathan, Sean, if ya please!”
With that, Steward stripped them down to their undergarments, dressed them in dark outfits just like Gorman had donned, and even coaled their faces for good measure.
Suddenly, a loud scraping was heard coming from over the stern rail. Immediately, a faint splashing sound as something hit the water. All froze.
“What was that?” exclaimed Harrison.
“Something fell overboard!” said Steward. “Let’s have a look!”
Walker, knowing full well that his desire for the plaque to finally stop clicking and clacking and depart for good, held up his hand.
“Let us stay focused, gentlemen,” said the Captain. “I have it all under control.”
“But sir,” said Koonts.
“That is enough!” Walker said raising his voice just a little. Eager to change the subject, he addressed the boys. “Moore, Flagon, do you have the plan in mind?”
“Yes, sir,” they said.
“Then listen to Captain Gorman and do exactly as he instructs. No room for error. And be as quiet as mice. You can gain more treasure sneaking in the back door than stomping through the front. There will be tight spaces and guards at every turn. Hopefully they will be sleeping, eh? Good luck boys. Into the boat you go!”
“Don’t forget to bring back some souvenirs from your African holiday!” laughed Harrison quietly as the boys and Gorman entered the boat with Hudson and Hicks. It was slowly lowered over the side and into the dark waters.
“We will meet you off the coast at the appointed time, Captain Gorman,” said Walker somberly. “Good luck to you all and speed as well.”
With that, the boat gently touched the sea and the ropes were released. Oars were positioned, allowing Hudson and Hicks to begin rowing away from the Danielle as the great ship let out minimal sail and tacked away through the darkness into deeper waters.
Jonathan and Sean looked back at her. They could see the Captain, Holtz, Harrison, and even Steward standing at the rail, telescopes out, watching them depart. Although a drizzling rain began almost immediately, Sean waved and smiled as they drifted away into the night.
The boat continued on. Shortly, Jonathan could make out the rocks and rough shoreline of the point. By starlight he could see the land was lush with plants and tall palm trees. They moved inland using the Muni River as a guide, trying to peer as deep into the jungle as their eyes would let them. The boys seemed to think that at any minute a lion or tiger would appear; however, all was calm and silent save a few bizarre insect noises and the lapping of the water on the boat as it moved through the dark.
Beyond the water’s edge the point was only slightly higher than the sea itself, and on a very slight rise appeared a dark stone fort, small but frightening in the eerie mist. There was a single tower in the center, with a dim light visible through a window—most likely from a lantern. The sides of the structure were made of a gray stone, but there were also parts of the roof and a few other areas that were made of wood and tarpaulin. On one side of the two-story structure facing the river were several tall windows, now dark. To Jonathan, it looked like a great haunted house.
Hudson and Hicks silently continued rowing as Gorman’s eyes scanned the fort and surrounding areas. He checked and rechecked his weapons, then looked to the boys.
“Gentlemen, let us review the plan. Hudson and Hicks will stay near the boat, just ashore, rifles at the ready. They will fire a single shot if we are in danger of being discovered and two shots if the Danielle is, for some reason, early. We will approach the fort from the southern edge; you will scale the outer wall by the small scrub bushes. I believe your small hands can fit in the cracks and with some effort you can pull yourselves up to the window. You will fit through it. But I will need a larger entrance. The window should lead to a hallway, close to the Generalissimo’s study.”
“Is that where the manifest is?” asked Jonathan.
“I presume so,” said Gorman. “There should be a desk or a closet with rolled papers, much like the manifests Mr. Koonts has shown you. But that is of no concern. Once inside, you will make your way down to that doorway to the far right by the corner. Can you see it?”
The boys looked at the fort, in the direction Gorman was pointing and easily made out the doorway.
“Yes,” they both said.
“Good, then make your way there and open it for me. I will then have you go straight to the boat and join Hudson and Hicks. I will retrieve the manifest. If you hear two pistols shots in direct succession that is your signal to leave and row to the Danielle. Understood?”
Jonathan furrowed his brow as he realized his part in this plan. He didn’t like it.
“Do you mean to say that you brought us along just to open a door for you?”
“Jonathan,” Gorman said. “This is very dangerous business. If we are to be caught, it will surely be death as a reward. Even more importantly, I promised your father I would not endanger you or Sean—and I am arguably doing that as it is.”
“But we can keep watch for you as you search!” said Sean.
“And three swords are better than one!” said Jonathan.
“And swords are more silent than a pistol!” said Hudson.
“Shut up, Hudson,” said Gorman.
“I told ya,” said Hicks.
“This is not open for debate,” hissed Gorman in a hoarse whisper. “We will follow the plan! Not another word!”
Through the drizzling rain and fog they rowed in complete silence, save for the swishing of the oars in the water and the gentle tinkling of the last drops of rain. The drizzle was all but gone, leaving nothing but a thin fog about them. After a few more minutes they were touching a small, rocky area that was tame enough to facilitate their landing. Hicks and Hudson silently replaced the oars in the bottom of the jolly boat, then stealthily hopped over the side into the shallow water.
“We will assist you to the shore, then hide by those dark rock outcrops just up the path, rifles pointed at the fort,” Hudson whispered.
“Boys, let us proceed,” said Gorman softly as Hudson grabbed each boy and handed them to his captain, now standing on the dark, rocky beach. They were now crouched low and followed Gorman through the boulders, around the scrub bushes and over a series of rises. The marines went about their duty as the plan dictated. After a moment or two, Hicks was in position by the path.
“I see ‘em,” said Hicks as he peered through the darkness.
“And I have tied up the boat so she won’t make any noise,” said Hudson as he joined his friend. “Hopefully, all will go as planned. I will watch to the east, you to the west.” The men settled in and kept a sharp eye on the fort.
What the marines didn’t notice was right behind them, however. The small tarp that was in the bow of the boat was moving. Silently, and ever so carefully, a hand and then a leg appeared in the starlight. Had they been looking, Hudson and Hicks would have seen a small delicate face appear over the side, peering out, green eyes flashing in the starlight.
My dear! thought the stowaway. If I have ever heard of a more ridiculous plan, it certainly is lost to my memory. Going in the fort alone? There must be fifty guards if there is a one. As the boys have said, the Marine Captain will need help and I am certainly not going to sit here and not do my part. After all, I am now experienced in these sorts of things!
The stowaway slowly began exiting from the boat, a feat that had been practiced time and time again as discovery and capture aboard the Danielle had been avoided. Silently, the stowaway found a way through the shallow water and up onto the rocky land of the point. Carefully, the stowaway approached the position of the marines.
Forte de la Selva
At the edge of the gate to the fort, Gorman held up a hand to signal the boys to stop. As they peered through the fog past the low stone wall that surrounded Fort de la Selva, they observed two guards walking along the building’s edge, then turning towards the main e
ntrance. They waited and watched until both guards were inside; through the darkness they could hear the clanking of the big door.
“There should not be any more guards for a while,” said Gorman. “They are either already asleep or about to be very soon. Let us wait a minute or two and then we will go on.”
The three waited and watched. After a few minutes of seeing no one, Gorman whispered, “I will go first. Wait until I motion for you.” He rushed quickly to the side of the fort. After covering the short distance to the building, Gorman turned with his back to the wall, then slid sideways until he was near a scrub bush directly beneath a second-story window. With a wave of his hand, he signaled for the boys to follow.
With only a slight hesitation, Jonathan ran first. After a few beats, Sean followed. They copied Gorman’s movements to the letter, and unseen, they joined him under the window.
“Up you go, Jonathan,” Gorman whispered as he made a step with his hands. Jonathan placed his right foot in the marine’s grasp and after being lifted, began his climb, now and again looking upwards to the window, but never back down to the ground.
It was over twelve feet to the upper window and though not as scary as caulking the side of the Danielle while she was underway, there was no rope or platform to offer assistance. As difficult as it was, Jonathan pressed upwards, slowly moving his left, then the right foot, then his right hand and finally the left hand, each finger or toe finding a crack or small hole in which to grip. It was slow moving, but the wall was only slightly slippery from the light rain and only once did he slip a bit.
Sean was right behind, just to the left. This made sense to Jonathan, as if he were to fall, there would be no sense in landing on Sean on the way down and injuring both of them. Both boys gritted their teeth and concentrated on the task at hand.
Gorman waited below, mostly looking up, and positioned himself under the boys just in case one might fall and he would need to make a desperate catch. He watched as they slowly but steadily made their way to the edge of the window. He noticed Jonathan listening intently at the ledge, then grasping the sill and peering inside.
Just then, Gorman heard the crunching sound of a boot on gravel. He quickly crouched down by the bush. To his right, a guard was plodding along, approaching their position.
Sean looked down to see the man staggering in their direction. Sean froze, then tugged gently on Jonathan’s trouser, alerting him to the danger. Jonathan turned his head out of the window and stopped all movement. He held his breath.
Gorman reached into his boot and silently removed a short-bladed knife. He waited for the guard to move close, almost on top of him. He then he positioned himself for the killing thrust. As he was about to attack, the guard belched so loudly that the boys became startled and almost lost their grip on the wall and window.
The stench from the wine the guard had been drinking overwhelmed Gorman and it was just powerful enough to stay his hand. He stared at the guard, who obliviously continued staggering past. Soon, Gorman relaxed. The guard was so drunk he didn’t see the marine or the monkeys on the wall. He just turned around the corner of the fort and disappeared in the dark.
Upon crawling through the open window, Jonathan and Sean found themselves in a dark hallway. The walls were unadorned except for the few candles that glowed dimly in lanterns every few yards. There were no tables or chairs about, and most welcome was the absence of Spanish guards. They stood still for a long moment, peering both left and right down the hallway, considering the several doors along the corridor.
“The stairs downward must be behind one of these doors!” whispered Jonathan.
“So we will have to peek into each one!” replied Sean softly, his hands shaking in fear.
The boys walked to the right, moving silently to the first door. On each side they stood and drew their swords. Jonathan opened the door a crack and Sean peered inward. He could see that the room was lit by a small lantern and, though still dark, Sean could make out three sleeping men. He motioned to Jonathan by holding up three fingers, then making a pillow with his hands and tilting his head down, closing his eyes. Jonathan nodded and closed the door ever so gently.
They moved to the second door and repeated the process. It was a small closet, with some rifles and a few other, shorter guns. A third door at the far end revealed a stack of lumber and some lantern fuel.
Knowing they must go the other way, the boys tiptoed through the gloomy hall and paused just a moment by the window to motion to Gorman their intention to head the other way.
Continuing on, the found that the first door on the left side was locked. The second door revealed a staircase leading downward. The boys smiled, then slowly proceeded, closing the door behind them. A few creaks and cracks later, they reached the bottom and peeked left and right, making sure no one was present. When all looked clear, they chose to walk to the right, as that was the direction the door to the outside would be located. They stepped cautiously, swords still drawn. After a few moments they reached another hallway. It, too, led in both directions, though it was obvious that the exit to the outside was to the right. That hallway was shorter and darker. They could see the iron handle and old wooden planks that made up the door, though at its base, there was something crumpled in a pile.
As they moved closer, a bit of light fell through a high lantern and they saw that the pile was actually a man, the drunken guard. He had fallen asleep against the door, wine bottle still in hand.
The boys warily moved away, back down the hall where they had come, and tried to decide how to deal with the situation.
“He is blocking the door! How will we open it for Gorman?” whispered Sean.
“We can’t just kill him—he may cry out!” said Jonathan.
“Then let us return to the window and speak with Captain Gorman,” Sean suggested, and the boys crept back down the lower hall, up the stairs, and paused once at the top, as a guard was walking past. They hid in the shadows and watched as he drearily moved on. Once he was out of sight, Jonathan looked out the window as Sean kept watch on the hallway. He looked left and right, but saw no one. Not even Gorman.
“Captain!” Jonathan called as loud as he felt safe; however, no one replied.
* * * * *
“Gorman is not there!” he said. “He must be at the door, waiting. We have to alter the plan. We must find the manifest ourselves!”
“But how?” whispered Sean. “Where is the desk of the Generalissimo?”
Jonathan remembered Gorman saying the office was most likely on the second floor. They had checked all the doors save one.
“The last door, Sean!” Jonathan said softly but excitedly, and pointed to the door to their left.
Again, they took positions on either side, swords ready. Jonathan slowly opened the door. He peered inside and smiled. He could see a large, heavy-looking, wooden desk and shelves behind holding books, papers and a few boxes. He opened the door a little wider, just enough for himself and Sean to slip inside. They did, and the door closed behind them.
The room was dark, though there was a sliver of light from a flickering lantern hanging in the center of the room. There were a few chairs about the desk, a great globe on a stand, and a wall of maps. As the boys explored, they looked for anything resembling a manifest, papers rolled like the ones Koonts had shown them earlier aboard the Danielle. Nothing remotely resembled a manifest.
Just when all seemed lost, they noticed a thin door against the wall opposite the desk. Upon opening it, they saw a large closet with hundreds of shelves of a peculiar shape: all like little boxes and each containing several rolls of paper. It was obvious on further inspection of a few rolls that they had found the manifests.
“Oh no!” said Sean. “How will we find our manifest? There are probably hundreds of rolls in here if there is a one!”
Jonathan randomly selected a roll from a box for inspection. “We will use our heads to narrow it down!” he whispered to Sean. “Look at this,” he said, sp
reading the rolled paper out on the floor. Sean knelt and held one side as Jonathan held the other.
“It looks like the manifests on the Danielle,” Sean said.
“Yes,” said Jonathan as he studied it, “and Gorman said that the Spanish word for cannon is cañón. That should be easy enough. C-a-n-o-n, and the ‘n’ has a funny little swirl above it. The ‘o’ has a slash. All we need to do is find a manifest with that word.”
“Jonathan,” Sean whispered, slightly irritated, “I can barely read English and now I need to read Spanish?”
Jonathan stifled a giggle. “He also said ‘ship’ is barco, or we may even see barco mercante for the merchant ships.”
They both took a section of the page and searched. After only a few minutes, Sean had found a word that looked like barco, and Jonathan confirmed that it was barco mercante, followed by the words San Elena, possibly the ship’s name. It was the line right under the date, clear as a bell, on the upper right-hand side of the first page. Under that, a few lines of words and then rows, with three columns across, containing letters and numbers that could only be a listing of goods aboard.
“Finally we have figured it out!” Jonathan whispered, “Now all we need to do is find one that says cañón. Here! This one refers to cannon in the column, but the numbers are too small.”
“Yes,” said Sean, “I would think we are looking for a ship with a number near one-thousand! But where do we begin?”
They began by looking at the shelves, and though not labeled in English, they found that all the manifests in a particular area all had similar words inscribed on the outside of the roll. The first shelf they inspected had rolls that read Diciembre or Noviembre. After some discussion, they realized that these were for December and November. They continued checking month by month, trying to translate in order. It was easier than they thought. Even though Enero had them stymied, Febrero could only be February, and soon they arrived at Marzo, Abril, and Mayo: March, April, and May.
