CHAPTER TEN
IT WAS THE night before the fight--and Clint was nowhere to be found. Hugh fought to remain calm as he searched for his friend. A tight, anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach told him something was wrong.
There was an air of celebration throughout Campeche, as there always was when so many ships converged to the town at once. This time the feeling was even stronger. There was expectation throughout the settlement. Everyone knew of the upcoming fight. Almost everyone had bets laid down.
More than that, some of the men had returned from a hunting party on the mainland and had captured a Karankawa squaw. Quite a few of the pirates were intent on having sport with her. Hugh could hear their comments as he searched I hrough the town for Clint.
"Careful, George," one man was saying. "Remember that she's a cannibal!"
"That's right," another added, "she might bite it off!"
"Hell, I heard that Karankawa women had teeth in their cunnies!"
"I can tell you for a fact," a fourth man said, "that they do not."
And so it went. Wherever Hugh looked, talk was the same. Much of it was spoken in French, but it didn't matter. After a year and a half with Lafitte's pirates he understood French almost as well as English.
At one time, their talk of what they planned to do with the woman might have disgusted him, but the time he'd spent with these men had dulled his sensitivities somewhat.
To each man his own fancy, he thought, but leave me out of it. Anyway, Hugh knew pirates to be capable of much worse things than rape.
***
For two days Clint had been able to think of only one thing, and that one thing was Estelle Lemiux. The fight was forgotten. Since that morning on the beach, Clint had been in a daze.
Estelle. Estelle. Her name rang like a bell. Clint was not just a boxer, but a poet as well...At least he felt like one. He felt giddy inside. Just the thought of her intoxicated him. As if the wine wasn't enough.
It had amazed him that, two days before, when they were at the beach, she hadn't fought him. They had gone into the water together, had splashed around a bit, and then he had simply taken hold of her and kissed her. At first she went limp, then she began to respond to him. A moment later she pulled him up onto the beach, pulled off his breeches, and took him inside her. When they were done she dressed, touched him once on the cheek, and walked off in the direction she had come from, all without so much as a word.
Clint wondered if he would ever see her again. It amazed and flattered him even further when she contacted him and wanted to get together once more.
Pirates lead lives that are different from other men. Pirate women did, too.
Clint had said nothing to Hugh about the encounter on the beach. If Hugh guessed what had happened, he also said nothing. Nor was Hugh aware of the small Negro boy that had brought word from Estelle--and an invitation for this, their second meeting. Earlier, when Hugh left to get word from the ship, Clint had slipped away. They met behind Charlotte Travers' place, where Estelle had been waiting for him. She had packed a picnic lunch and knew of a spot, about a mile from town, where they could be alone.
Earlier, Estelle had added honeysuckle to her bath water. The scent of it kept drifting to Clint as they walked, driving him half-crazy with desire for her. As soon as they arrived at the spot she had picked, they made love again, this time on a blanket and not in the surf. Then she had opened the wine she brought while Clint built a small fire.
Estelle was the most beautiful woman Clint had ever met and she affected him in a way no other woman ever had. She apologized to him for her unladylike forwardness:
"The lives we lead," she told him, "so full of danger! Anything can happen at any time! Ordinary people have the time for courtship games and formalities. We do not."
The made love a second time, this time much more slowly and creatively. They drank nearly a whole bottle of wine in the process. The wine had a slight off-flavor, but Clint was far too preoccupied to notice.
"Estelle, Estelle, I'm under your spell..." was the last thing he remembered saying to her.
***
Hugh had now been looking for Clint for more than two hours. He'd gone back to the makeshift cabin twice, hoping to find him there, but found no indication that the younger man had returned.
Hugh was now quite certain that something was wrong.
For the fifth time, he went into the Bucket 0' Blood and looked around. A half dozen sailors from the Madalaine were there, but no Clint Hastings. Willie Brandt was at the bar, his arms around two of Charlotte's "girls". Willie's long blond hair was hanging loose and there was a half-emptied bottle of rum in his hand. At Hugh's approach, Willie gave a broad grin.
"Hugh Glass, you old sogerer!" he shouted. "Come have a drink with me an' the girls here!"
"Another time, Willie," Hugh told him, looking around the room. "We need to talk."
Willie looked at him for a moment. Then he sighed.
"Damn!"Willie swore. "Well girls, it looks like you're gonna have to excuse me for a bit." He turned to the woman on his right. "Ellie, don't you go off with any body else, now. I want you for the night!" He slipped her a gold coin, adding, "Put that on account!"
Ellie gave him a lewd smile and slipped the coin into her bodice. Willie led Hugh over to a corner where they could talk undisturbed.
"All right," he said, "what is it?"
"It's Clint. He's missing. I think something's happened to him." Willie looked at him.
"Aw, he's prob'ly just off somewhere, makin' the double-backed beast."
"Maybe. I think there's more to it than that. The fight is tomorrow night, Willie."
"That's right, it is. Well, you got any ideas?"
"Only one. Do you know a young woman, about twenty-long dark, curly hair. Dark eyes?"
"I know a few like that."
"This woman's different. She's extremely beautiful, and ...she has an air about her. She's independent."
"That sounds like Estelle..." Willie thought for a moment. "Estelle belongs to Charlotte. If they're involved, you're prob'ly right. It's trouble." He looked around the room and spied Charlotte. She was talking to one of the men off the Success and looking toward Willie and Hugh.
"Uh-oh," he said. "I think we'd better get out of here."
The two men headed for the door. A tall, muscular sailor stood in the doorway with his arms folded in front of him. Without breaking stride Willie kicked him in the groin. The man doubled over, and Willie pushed him out of the way. Then he and Hugh walked out into the night.
"I'll prob'ly have to answer for that later," Willie said, looking back. "Right now we have to figure out what Estelle has done with our boy, if she hasn't just kilt him outright!"
"Would she do that?"
"Estelle? Prob'ly not, but that was one of Gambi's men at the door, and I saw one of Gambi's boys talkin' with Charlotte. If they're all in it together, anything's possible." He thought for a minute, then said, "No, they prob'ly wouldn't kill. That'd be too easy. More as like they'd make it so Clint would be in no shape to fight, so Gambi's boy Johnson would have an easy win. That'd make more sense. There's a lot of gold ridin' on this fight. More'n that. It's a matter of honor. If Johnson wins--or wins too easy, it'll make the Cap'n look bad."
Hugh grunted. He could care less about Renoux's "honor", or his gold. Hugh's only concern was his friend.
"So where do we look for Clint?" Hugh asked.
"I'm thinkin' on it," Willie told him. He was quiet for a time. Hugh did his best not to seem impatient.
"Okay." Willie said finally. "It makes sense that they wouldn't keep him in town--someone might see 'em. I don't think they'd take him to the Success--that'd be too obvious. That means they got him here, on the island, but not in town."
"Fine. Where?"
"I'm thinkin'! I'm thinkin'! Okay, there's a small beach, just about a mile out of town. It sits down in a hollow, like, so they could have a fire an' no one would see it. They could
be down there just havin' a picnic, makin' the beast on the beach--and Gambi's boys could just happen to drop in an' bust him up some. Knowin' Estelle, she have him so side-tracked that Clint'd never know they were there until it was too late, an' then wouldn't never believe she set him up."
"So where is this beach?"
"Come on."
Willie led the way, back past the last of the makeshift cabin--tents that made up the town of Campeche. It was a rag-tag setup if ever Hugh had seen one. Then, he would have expected no better. These people were not craftsmen, they were killers.
Once away from the town, it became nearly too dark to see. Willie led them, weaving just a little, but doing a pretty fair job for a man who'd been interrupted in his night of fun.
After twenty minutes of walking in the dark, Hugh detected a faint whiff of woodsmoke. A few minutes later they cleared a small rise. The hill fell away and there, on the beach, two figures lay sprawled and unmoving. The fire next to them had all but gone out.
Without waiting to see if it was safe, Hugh rushed down onto the beach. Willie, ever suspectful of a trap, waited above. When he was certain that no one lurked nearby, he followed Hugh down onto the beach.
Both Clint and the girl were unconscious. Hugh made a quick inspection. One of the bottles of wine was untouched. The other was nearly gone. Pouring a little into one of the cups, Hugh smelled it. Then he took a small taste. Laudanum, he thought, or some other opiate!
"The wine is laced," he told Willie. "Come on, we have to get them back to the ship. I'll take Clint, you take the girl."
"The girl?" Willie responded. "Why don't we just cut her throat an' leave her here? She's the one `at did this!"
Noting the knife already in Willie's hand, Hugh thought quickly. "Renoux may have some questions for her," he said.
Satisfied, Willie put his knife away and reached for Estelle.
Later, back aboard the Madalaine, the ship's cook prepared a brew, which he and Hugh fed to Clint. Without fully regaining consciousness, Clint spent the night vomiting his insides out. Estelle, they decided could sleep it off for herself.
***
The following morning, just before dawn, the Karankawas attacked Campeche. They hit the settlement hard and fast, and caused some damage. The pirates recovered quickly and retaliated. Jean Lafitte himself went out to fight them, backed by two pieces of artillery.
The fighting was long and bitter, lasting most of the day. When it was finally over, more than thirty indians had been killed, and nearly half that many pirates. Others were missing and were never found.
Among those missing was the man that Clint was supposed to fight, Simon Johnson. Questions were raised about this: How could any man as big and as powerful and as visible as Simon Johnson have been taken by the cannibal tribe--with no one aware of it. Johnson was an enormous man, standing head and shoulders over the tallest of the pirates. No one seemed to know the answer to that.
Willie Brandt knew, but Willie wasn't talking to anyone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TIME, IT WAS said, heals all wounds. There were days, when the sea was calm and the air was warm and the work was light, when Hugh could get lost in what he was doing and almost, almost forget. It was like he was an ordinary seaman again, serving aboard a common seagoing merchant, without responsibilities, long before he had made Third or Second Mate. Long, long before he had set foot aboard the Gallant. Balmy days.
Today was like that. Hugh was picking oakum, which had been forced from between the decking during storms and from the normal movement of the ship. He was in a thoughtful mood. They had been out for three weeks. Life had taken on the regularity of the sea, unbroken except by changes in the weather, which had been fair for many days. Despite himself, Hugh had begun to actually like some of the crew--Willie Brandt for one. In spite of his piratical nature, Willie was thoroughly likable. Another was Ganz, the cook, and Billings, the carpenter. And Peatman, the Chief Mate, rather than being threatened by Hugh's skill as a sailor, actually treated him with a sort of respect. All in all, it wasn't too bad.
The fight with the Karankawas became known as, "The Battle of the Three Trees", and was counted among Lafitte's many victories. Hugh and Clint had missed it--Clint because he was still recovering from the drugged wine, Hugh because he had spent the entire night before looking after him. Even so, he had been surprised when Renoux told him not to go.
"There are over seven-hundred men in that camp," Renoux explained. "If they can't handle the indians, one more won't help. Besides, most of my crew is there.
If they all get killed I'll need you to help sail the Madalaine."
Late in the afternoon the girl, Estelle, had come up on deck, looking ragged. The natural roll of the ship was too much for her. She vomited again and again over the side, all the while decrying her innocence. Renoux let her live. Apparently, she and Lafitte had once been on intimate terms. It had been years earlier, but Jean Lafitte still considered Estelle Lemiux to be his friend. Since there was no real harm done--the fight was called because Simon Johnson was missing--this was enough for Renoux.
The night after "The Battle of the Three Trees", a huge celebration was held, with Jean Lafitte himself in attendance. This was a rare thing. Lafitte rarely left his gaudy fortress, La Maison Rouge, for anything.
Hugh and Clint missed it all, both being restricted to the ship--Clint for irresponsible behavior; Hugh for not watching him close enough.
Staying on board hadn't bothered Hugh, but Clint, who was finally feeling better, was glum.
"Think of it," he told Hugh, "this might have been the only chance we'll get to see the great and legendary Lafitte, and we missed it!"
Hugh laughed and took a pull at his pipe.
Since that time things had mellowed somewhat for Hugh. His attitude had softened somehow--probably something to do with "pulling together in a crisis". He'd seen it happen again and again on other ships. Hugh had been in many crisis situations while aboard the Madalaine, but none of them ever made him feel closer to the rest of the crew, except for Clint. This was the first time that he'd had to rely on any of the others.
Hugh thought once more about Willie Brandt. Willie was a true professional pirate, if ever there was one. He was everyone's best friend, and genuinely so. He begrudged no one anything, yet was nobody's fool. Best friends though you might be, if practicality demanded it, Willie would slit your throat as quickly and dispassionately as another man might clean a fish. Still, Hugh had come to like him.
"ALL HANDS! SAIL HO!"
Hugh started at the call. Sudden concern filled him, which grew in intensity as he looked aft to starboard and, far in the distance, made out the sail of a ship.
She was a fat Portuguese merchant, loaded down and all alone. She was in full sail and moving gracefully along. As for speed and armament, she could never hope to be a match for the Madalaine. Hugh felt a sudden, odd impulse to go back to picking oakum and pretend the ship wasn't there, that the Madalaine was just another merchant ship plying her trade, that the men around him were nothing more than honest, ordinary seamen...
Oh, that's grand, he thought bitterly. Really grand! They're NICE men. Killing, torturing, raping, and stealing are just things that they happen to do for a living. It's nothing personal...
He looked around. As usual, Weasel was watching him. Hatred for the irritating little man suddenly filled him. After they had sunk the Dona Elena, Weasel had been foremost in taking his pleasure at the girl's expense. Hugh had the unreasoning urge to run over and strangle the little man and throw his body into the sea. The last thing he remembered, just before the cannon fire began, was hearing Tom Halpern's voice:
"...and you will NEVER know peace!"
***
None of their victims ever had a chance, really. This was mostly due to the fact that no one among them knew quite what to expect. None of them knew what was coming. They always cooperated, hoping for mercy that was never, ever shown. If there was one law that w
as absolute among the pirates, it was to kill everyone who wasn't a pirate. And no one among the pirates, including Renoux, ever seemed to care what traumas and horrors were visited upon the prisoners before death finally came to them.
The fight had been extremely one-sided. Only one of the pirates had been killed. The deck of the Portuguese ship, slippery with blood earlier, had now become sticky. Wherever anyone walked it made a wet, smacking noise. The sound made Hugh sick to his stomach. He was glad there was a light wind. It carried the scent of recent butchery away from him. Absently, he remembered that it had been, before the attack, a balmy day.
They had taken four prisoners--two priests and an elderly couple. The priests, having made their protests in the name of God, were now being quietly stoic. The old woman had tried, with stately dignity, to hold her composure, but it had given way and now she was sobbing quietly. The old man was trying to comfort her. Hugh tried not to listen, but it didn't work. He could feel the old man's hopelessness and despair and shame over having failed to protect his wife, and it enraged him. The image of the young girl from the Dona Elena came back to him, her eyes vacant and dull, her hair and clothes a mess from constant abuse. He saw her mother and father and at least a dozen others, all of whom faced humiliation, shame, and torture before being put to death, but mostly he saw the girl. She had been so young and pretty--in the end she had been nothing but a lifeless, smelly, rag of a girl, with no will or intelligence to respond to anything or anyone. Still they had kept at her, until she wasted away and died of pneumonia.
Hugh looked down at his hands. He was holding his pistol. Vaguely, he remembered discharging it into a young sailor who had come at Hugh in an effort to defend his ship. Now it was loaded again. Hugh didn't remember reloading it.
"Now's time for some fun!" Hugh heard someone say.
"Aye, yer right!" Hugh recognized the second voice--a man named Mahoney. "She ain't much to look at, but after three weeks at sea, I'd bugger me own grandmother!"
"Hell, she probably is yer grandmother!"
Laughter. Hugh felt strangely tired and lethargic. Earlier, he'd been full of good feelings and the camaraderie of brotherhood. What had he been thinking? If there was such a thing as evil in this world, it was here, in these men. The concepts of mercy and kindness and love were alien to them. The men had worked themselves up. Three of them moved in, separating the old man from his wife. When the old man saw what they were about to do with her, he tried to fight them. His efforts were weak. Mahoney gutted him and pushed him down onto the deck, where he would die watching the pirates rape his wife.
Hugh Glass - Bruce Bradley Page 5
