The Diamond King

by Patricia Potter

  Claude, though, turned pale.

  He turned to her. “The English and French have signed a treaty.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Alex spent the next two days haggling. With the haggling came the drinking. It was, quite obviously, a necessary part of bargaining.

  A man who did not drink, according to the bandeirantes, was not to be trusted. Jorge Filho refused to even discuss diamonds the first day. Alex tried to keep up with them, but after several drafts began to pour most of his share on a convenient plant. He needed to keep his wits about him, and the stuff offered by Jorge was as potent, and as unpalatable, a brew he’d ever tasted.

  Late on the second day, Jorge disappeared with Tomas.

  Alex lived the next few hours in torment, as the remaining bandeirantes passed out except for one cold-eyed man whose stare never left Alex and his friends, and whose hand curved menacingly around the handle of a machete.

  Filho returned alone. Tomas, he explained, had business back in Vitória. Alex felt a chill run down his back, but he tried to keep any emotion from his face.

  “Do not worry, senhor. The priest will accompany you back.”

  The idea of the priest did not comfort Alex. He appeared as sly and dangerous as the others.

  “I brought some diamonds,” Jorge said. “This is a sampling.”

  Alex studied them. Etienne, who had broached the venture to him, had taken him to a jeweler who gave him instructions as to what to look for. He’d even brought a small magnifying glass with him.

  They were diamonds. Not the finest he had seen. And certainly rough, but very, very marketable once certified by a Paris merchant as Indian diamonds.

  “I have seen better,” he observed.

  The bandit squinted at him. “Which would you value most highly?”

  He looked at the diamonds in his hand. Most were black or various shades of green. There was a clear polished one, also some the shade of cinnamon, and even an orange one. His eyes kept going back to one that was pale blue.

  He hesitated, wondering whether he should reveal what knowledge he had. But he was a judge of men. If he lied, or pretended to be a fool, he probably would not live another day. “The blue,” he said.

  “You chose correctly. That stone is worth a hundred times the value of these others.”

  Alex didn’t say anything.

  “You are unusual,” the man said. “Most outsiders believe we are fools or innocents.”

  “Did they live to discover their mistake?”

  Jorge laughed. “I do like you, senhor. I think we can do business. The government pays my people little for the gems they find. In truth, they often enslave our people to mine them. Sometimes they can secret one or two. It is worth their lives to be discovered. But with luck we can buy their freedom.”

  He paused, then added, “The gringos say the gems are worthless, but we are not fools. They would not be mining every river if that were so. But we have no way to get them to market.” He paused, then added, “It is difficult to trust one.”

  “It is against the law to smuggle diamonds,” Alex said. “You have to find an honorable thief.”

  “And have I found one?” Jorge asked.

  “Would my word assure you?”

  The bandeirante chuckled. But there was a warning in it. “I think not. You will have to prove yourself.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  “I want a good price for these diamonds,” Jorge said. “If you get a better price wherever you are taking them, we will be asking for more gold next time.”

  “How will you know?”

  “If you return, senhor, I will know.”

  “If I do not?”

  “We will at least have gotten more than we would from the cão.”

  Alex did not need Marco’s translation. The dog.

  Jorge poured more of the foul alcoholic brew in a rough, hollowed-out wooden mug. He saluted Alex with the drink.

  Alex continued to drink carefully. He knew he needed to keep his wits about him. As Jorge did not trust him, neither did he trust Jorge. Had he brought his gold with him, he would have been dead days ago.

  But they were two dangerous men with two desperate goals.

  They could make a devil’s bargain.

  “I have to go back to Vitória,” Jenna told Claude. “He has to be warned about the treaty.”

  “His orders were clear, mademoiselle,” Claude said. “We are to stay out of sight until we return to Vitória.”

  She had been growing more and more restless as they finished taking on fresh water. The Portuguese coastal trader lay at anchor next to them, also taking on fresh water from an inland waterfall.

  Claude had paid a call to the captain of the small trading vessel, seeking more news. He’d learned that a British warship was in Rio de Janeiro to refit, then planned to search the coast for “pirates.” Other ships were hunting throughout the Caribbean.

  Claude had hidden the guns earlier, and piled the decks with barrels and boxes to make the ship look like just another merchantman. Dirt had been rubbed on the newly lettered name—Isabelle—to make it look older. The Portuguese captain had accepted Claude’s explanation that his own captain had sickened and he was serving as acting captain.

  “I can pay the captain of the Portuguese ship to take me to Vitória,” she said. “I can warn the captain and Burke.”

  “Someone else can do that, mademoiselle.”

  “You cannot take the ship near a main port. You cannot even stay here. You told me what he said. The British will be searching up and down the coast.”

  Claude was silent. He knew she was right. And if an English ship stopped at Vitória, someone was bound to remember a man with a scarred face and a limp. His captain could walk into a trap. “I will sail there myself.”

  “And put the children and everyone else in danger?” she asked. “I am of little importance to your captain, and I can take care of myself. I have money, jewels, and connections.” She was not very sure of the latter, but she would not hesitate to use the threat of them. “The children’s safety is of far more value to the captain.” She let that sink in, then added, “Did not the captain mention an island south of here? You can go there and wait for us.”

  “I cannot put you at risk, mademoiselle.”

  “I will not be. I will say I have been a captive. I will escape from you, and ask the Portuguese captain to take me to Vitória where I can find a ship to take me home. I have money hidden in my dress. I can offer it to him. There I can get word to Burke. We can …”

  She watched him struggle with his options. But he was French and considered himself a gentleman. “Non,” he said finally. “I cannot risk it.”

  “You said the Portuguese captain seems a decent man.”

  “A woman alone …” Claude shook his head.

  “There is bound to be a reward for my safe return,” she said. “A reward instead of a ransom. A sum that would be more than what he makes in a year.” She did not tell him there probably would be no reward from her family. “Surely he would take care if he knew that my family is close to the king’s.”

  He shook his head in finality. “Non,” he said. “I will send one of my men.”

  “Who?” she asked. “Whom would you trust? Who could convince the captain to go out of his way?”

  “Hamish.”

  “You need him for the sails.”

  “Mickey then.”

  “He’s Irish. He doesn’t know Portuguese. Or French.” The Portuguese captain had replied to Claude’s Spanish in a corrupted form all of his own. “But I do. I know some Spanish. I know Latin. And French. I have always been good at languages.”

  Claude muttered under his breath.

  “I did well with the governor,” she reminded him.

  “Oui you did,” he admitted.

  She saw him weakening. There was no one aboard who knew Spanish other than his own smattering, and none but Marco knew Portuguese. They were primari
ly French and Scots. Hamish had told her they had been lucky to find Marco before leaving France.

  But then he stiffened. “Non,” he said, and turned away.

  Jenna watched as the last of the water barrels were loaded. Both Meg and Robin were in the galley, helping Mickey prepare the evening meal. Robin, she suspected, was cleaning beans and Meg was helping with the baking of bread. It was best to do so at anchor when the threat of fire was less.

  Jenna thought of both of them as they were earlier. Meg surprisingly had put on her new dress and shyly appeared to the grins of the crew. Robin had stared at her in amazement, then followed her around like a puppy. Later, he had helped with her reading lesson.

  She had looked down at the two heads. Meg’s short hair had grown out a little and, once washed, curled around her fine face. Robin had always been a young knight to Jenna, kind and smart and graced with a handsome face.

  She would always think of them that way.

  She would see them again. Soon. She told herself that.

  But now she had to get over to the Portuguese ship. Once there, she knew she could convince the captain to take her to Vitória, the closest town of any size where she could get passage for England.

  The water barrels were all loaded, and they would leave on the tide early in the morning, before first light.

  She had only a few hours. And she needed an ally. She searched her mind for one; the only possibility was Mickey, who served as cook and jack of all trades. He also hated the English and would do anything to thwart them.

  She watched as dusk appeared. There were some last-minute negotiations for fruit in the village; the quarter boat had been lifted aboard, but the smaller tender was still in the water.

  Jenna went to the captain’s cabin and searched her belongings. She would take two dresses, the undergarments she would need, and most of her jewels. Once again she started sewing them into the hem of one of her dresses.

  “Claude, he is too timid. What can you expect of a Frenchman?”

  Jenna thought she knew how to gain Mickey’s cooperation. He did not care for anyone other than the Irish, except, she’d discovered in these past weeks, the captain.

  The captain was his god, his leader, his hero. The captain had outfoxed the English, had made them pay for their arrogance, and Mickey would do anything for him. At the same time, his Irish temperament—a seemingly inborn resentment of most authority—had placed him at odds with Claude more than once.

  She had waited until after supper. She read to the children, then left Meg nodding off to sleep. She put her hand next to the child’s neck. “Sleep well,” she whispered. “I’ll be back.”

  Then she made sure that Robin, too, had gone to bed.

  She went up to the galley where Mickey was having his one authorized cup of rum.

  “Miss?” he asked, starting to rise.

  She had, she knew, acquired almost sainthood status in his eyes. She had helped get the captain back to the ship. She had helped save young Meg’s life.

  “I need your help,” she said.

  His thick black Irish eyebrows shot up. “Me, miss?” Although he had softened toward her, he had never used the courtesy of “my lady.”

  “Aye,” she said. “We must warn the captain about the peace treaty, but Claude cannot risk the ship by turning back to Vitória.”

  He nodded. “But what can we do?”

  “I can ‘escape’ to the Portuguese ship,” she said.

  He studied her for a moment. “And what does the first mate be saying about that?”

  “He does not agree.”

  He weighed that for a moment. “He be a cautious man.”

  “But you are not,” she said. “Once I am aboard the Portuguese ship, he will have no choice but to let me return to Vitória. He cannot risk offending the Portuguese by trying to bring me back here.”

  “And you need me …”

  “To take the tender for last-minute supplies. I can dress as one of the men. I am as tall as some and with their clothes …”

  “I could not leave you alone on a ship with foreigners.”

  “You can go with me, if you think it is necessary. I will say that you are my protector.”

  He snorted. “They would not believe that. Yer servant, mayhap.”

  “Whatever you suggest,” she persisted.

  “Whatever I wish?” he asked in a wondering tone, as if no one had said anything like that before.

  “Your captain’s life may depend on you,” she prompted.

  His brows knit together. “You are risking yer life, my lady.”

  She started at that. It was the first time he’d uttered a title he evidently loathed. “’Tis no more than he would do,” she said. “I do not want to see the children left alone again.”

  He suddenly grinned. “Ye have a servant,” he said. “I would love to see that Frenchie’s face when he realizes what has happened.”

  Jenna felt both great relief and that odd sense of anticipation, of being alive.

  “I’ll need some clothes to leave in,” she said. “Something a sailor would wear. The first mate cannot learn what has happened until the tender returns.”

  He eyed her speculatively. “I can get you some clothes, but they may be none too clean.”

  She nodded. “I’ll put some of my own clothes in a sack. Can you get it in the tender?”

  “Aye. Goods to trade.”

  She looked at him directly.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Do not be thanking me. I owe the captain me life. I was starving in Paris when he took me in. No one else would hire an Irishman. When this voyage is finished, I can get my family out of Ireland.”

  For the first time, she hesitated. What was she asking of him? She had thought of him all alone. She had not known he had family. She had not known much about him at all. He had not said a word. She wondered whether he had horror stories of his own about English rule in Ireland.

  She felt a sharp pain in her heart that she had been so unaware of the misery in the world.

  “Perhaps …” she said, stricken by guilt. Guilt for humanity. Guilt for what she was asking of him. It was mutiny. A benign mutiny, but mutiny nonetheless.

  “There will be few people on deck af’er dark,” he said, ignoring her sudden uncertainty. “I will be bringing you some clothes close to midnight. We will leave just before the changing of lookouts. The first mate will be sleeping then.”

  Her heart in her throat, she nodded in agreement.

  Alex feared for the first time he would not make it back. Much of the terrain was rocky, strewn with boulders and uneven ground, then it would dissolve into heavy forest. It rained frequently, the forest steaming with heat mixed with water. Leeches crawled over him and the unsteady ground caused him more than a few spills.

  Tomas had not returned, and a man who never spoke led the way. He never stopped until Alex simply could not go any farther despite Marco’s help. The priest, also mostly silent, accompanied them. He would finish the transaction. Alex suspected that somewhere in the flowing robes was a pile of uncut diamonds.

  The pain in his leg was agonizing. His face was bearded now and caked with dirt and sweat. But in his pocket he carried the blue diamond as well as other less valuable stones. It was his future and the future of the children.

  Bloody hell, but it was hot. And with each step, he felt warmer. Despite the rain, he couldn’t seem to quench his thirst. The mere thought of food was repellent.

  One foot in front of another. He kept telling himself that. He kept telling himself that his … weakness was temporary, and yet he knew it was not true. His leg was worse. It might well become useless. The thought of being crippled or losing his ability to walk was agonizing. It had become all too real these past days.

  He tried to keep going by thinking of the children, but instead, Jenna’s face kept appearing. That gave him the ability to continue. Concentrate on that. Don’t think about the jungle.

&nb
sp; Something swung down in front of him. He swore and the bandeirante turned around, his machete moving as fast as a Scot’s sword as it cut a snake in two, and it fell just inches from him.

  He knew that one bite would have killed him. He’d learned about snakes in the past fortnight.

  He nodded at the man, who nodded back, then continued to lead the way for the four of them, his arm constantly chopping at the heavy growth that seemed to have invaded the path they had taken just days ago.

  Alex slapped at an insect with his free hand. How many days now? Three, four left before they reached Vitória, and the ship. He envisioned the cool green water, a fresh sea breeze against his face rather than the thick, too-sweet smell of rotting vegetation. It was difficult to breathe.

  The priest fell in step with him. “Your leg is giving you pain, no? Should I tell Roberto to stop?”

  “We do not have time,” Alex replied. “We have a ship scheduled to pick us up. I do not want it to have to linger.”

  “Will you keep your word, senhor?” the priest asked suddenly.

  Alex stopped. “What word?”

  “You will return?”

  “If I do not personally, someone will,” he said. “My associates are most interested in a continuing relationship.”

  The priest stared at him for a long time. “We do not trust easily, senhor. Smuggling is a serious offense. But our people are poor; some are escaped slaves. We need gold. They watch the gold mines, but we find diamonds in streams they do not know about. We cannot easily find someone to take them to market for us. The diamond merchants, they say our diamonds are no good.”

  “They lie,” Alex said. “And there are merchants who will accept them.” He hesitated. “If I am not caught, I will come back. I know what it is to be hunted.”

  “I believe you.” The priest nodded. “It was the bandeirantes who opened Brazil, who found the gold and the diamonds. Now the authorities are bringing in slaves to mine the snake-infested streams and take everything for themselves. We are now often called outlaw for wanting a little of what we find.”

  They were silent the rest of the afternoon and into dusk. The guide finally stopped alongside a river. Alex studied it carefully and did not see any alligators. He went to the water’s edge and started to step into it to wash off some of the accumulated dirt and sweat.