Pirate Curse-Wave Walkers book 1

by Kai Meyer

  The armada had taken up position in a semicircle around Port Nassau. Unremitting, the cannon fire thundered out across the bay and cut deep lanes into the city’s tangle of streets.

  Only a handful of Spanish ships on the starboard side of the Carfax had been ordered to fire on the anchored pirate fleet rather than the houses. The bulk of the armada was concentrated against the city and the fortress of the governor. The English artillery on the battlements was able to land a few shots, in spite of the massive inferiority of their cannon; three Spanish ships were so badly damaged that their crews had to transfer to neighboring galleons in lifeboats.

  Walker made two decisions. First, at the exit from the bay, he had the Carfax turn to larboard, away from those ships that were aiming at the pirate fleet. Second, he ordered Buenaventure to take a direct course toward the Spaniards in the lifeboats. As long as the Carfax was in the midst of the castaways, he hoped none of the captains would place the sloop under full fire.

  “Anyway, he knows what he’s doing,” murmured Munk, pulling his head down as a few shots from individual muskets whistled over the deck.

  Jolly hissed with scorn. “Even a revolting person like that has one good characteristic.”

  “He’s a good captain,” Soledad agreed; she was crouching beside them between barrels and boxes, part of the cargo with which the new owner of the Carfax had intended to put to sea the next morning. Now they gave good cover against musket fire and crossfire.

  “You can marry him,” Jolly retorted snippily.

  “Who knows?”

  Jolly stared at her wide-eyed.

  Soledad laughed. “Don’t worry.” She looked up at the bridge where Walker stood giving orders, unmoving in the midst of the crossfire of muskets, while Buenaventure maneuvered the ship with remarkable skill between lifeboats and warships. Jolly calmed herself with the thought that Soledad surely admired only that cutthroat’s nautical skill, not his questionable human qualities.

  The Spaniards had fanned their fleet out wide to place as many corners of the pirate nest under fire as possible. That was tactically skillful, as long as not too many freebooters’ ships succeeded in leaving the harbor. The lookouts’ treachery had given the attackers the advantage of surprise—they were trying to shoot down their opponents in their shacks and tents. Leaving the English governor’s fortress in debris and ashes was, of course, entirely incidental.

  For decades, Spaniards and Englishmen had been fighting each other in the waters of the Caribbean. Each country hoped to develop its colonies overseas, to conquer new and fruitful islands, and to bring the gold mines and spice plantations of the mainland under its control. From the outside, the attack on Port Nassau might look like the Spanish Crown’s reprisal for the pirates’ numerous trespasses against their trading ships. But in truth, behind it there was also the desire to send the administrators of the British Empire home in a huff.

  The loose formation of the warships made it possible for Walker to break through the siege ring without much difficulty. The ghosts at the cannons of the Carfax did not fire a single shot; the flight succeeded without returning fire. In the protection of the lifeboats, which were frantically avoiding them, they succeeded in getting behind the Spanish fleet and were soon on the open sea. One Spanish captain sent a broadside after them, daring it only, however, when they’d left the castaways far behind them—but by then it was too late. Not a single ball hit its target.

  “Why aren’t they following us?” asked Munk in amazement, as he looked back over the railing toward the inferno in front of the island’s coast. Powder smoke floated in a yellow veil of fog over the sea. As long as the muzzles weren’t pointing in their direction, the deep thumping of the cannons seemed strangely unreal—like a thunderstorm taking place at a great distance.

  “It isn’t worth it to them to bring down a single ship,” said Soledad. “Port Nassau, as the pirates’ capital, is a thorn in their eye. First they cleaned the freebooters out of Tortuga—at least most of them—now New Providence. However, I’m not sure they’ll really manage it unless they station a garrison there permanently.”

  “Which again they wouldn’t dare to,” added Jolly, nodding, “because New Providence is in English colonial territory and the Spanish could start a war with an open takeover of the island.”

  Munk shook his head in incomprehension. “But they’re attacking the island. There’s nothing much more than that to a conquest.”

  Soledad yawned and smiled indulgently. “They’ll put it out that the attack is a punitive expedition against the pirates, not an attack against England. If the English contradict them, they’ll accuse them of supporting piracy, which certainly doesn’t lie in their interest.”

  “That means,” said Munk, “the Spaniards will shoot Port Nassau into the ground, then turn around and disappear again.”

  “Exactly.”

  Jolly looked intently over at the narrow ring of smoke and fire illuminating the night horizon under the starry sky. By now there must be a scant ten miles between the ship and the island, but the stink of fire and powder still hung in the air; the Carfax was pulling it along behind it like a tow. “The English will send a new governor,” she said, “who’ll build the fortress up again from the rubble, and in six months it will all be just the same as it was before.”

  Soledad made a grim face. “I hope that at least Kendrick escaped it.”

  “We aren’t the only ship that broke through the Spaniards’ ring,” Munk said. “I saw two others. One was right behind us, but then it turned.”

  “If the bastard was aboard, I’ll find him.”

  Jolly looked up at the mast, where the ghosts had hoisted the English flag at Walker’s command. As on any pirate ship, there was on this one a choice of flags of all nations, in particular that one for which Jolly was named, the Jolly Roger, the black skull-and-crossbones emblem of the freebooters. Usually the pirate flag was run up shortly before an attack, when the opponent no longer had a chance of fleeing.

  Soledad leaned her back against a chest, pulled up her knees, and closed her eyes for a moment. Under her cape she no longer wore the dress in which Jolly had met her in the Fat Hen, but trousers, a shirt, and a wide weapons belt, into which were stuck a half a dozen throwing knives. She hadn’t a saber with her, but Jolly had seen enough to wager that she could handle any sort of blade superbly. If only half of what people said about Scarab’s daughter was true, she was a better fighter than most male pirates, in addition to being blessed with calculation and beauty. It by no means escaped Jolly that not only Walker but also Munk kept stealing glances at her every now and then.

  Soledad yawned again, bored a finger into her nose, rolled a hardened piece of snot between her fingers, and flipped it into the shadows.

  Jolly giggled as she watched Munk’s face twist.

  The pirate princess wadded up her cape and shoved it under her behind as a cushion. “Wake me up if something important happens.” Within a few moments she was asleep.

  Jolly motioned to Munk to follow her. She led him to the railing, out of Soledad’s hearing. They held onto the railing and gazed absently into the night. Jolly told him what had happened in the Fat Hen and listened patiently to his reproaches because she’d put him out of commission so underhandedly. After he’d given vent to his anger, they both fell into a brooding silence.

  After a while, Jolly asked, “Why didn’t he come with us?”

  “The Ghost Trader? No idea.”

  “What could be so important that he had to go back for it?”

  “Did he tell you about the sea eagle he sent out?”

  Jolly shook her head. She felt a sudden prick of jealousy. Why had the Ghost Trader confided in Munk and not her?

  “He looked up an old acquaintance in New Providence, the only man in the Caribbean who knows how to tame sea eagles.”

  Jolly had never heard that anyone had been able to train one of those proud creatures, but she waited curiously, without interrupting
Munk.

  “They sent out one of those eagles to spread the message about the awakening of the Maelstrom.”

  “So that’s why he agreed to bring us to Port Nassau.”

  Munk nodded briefly. “Probably.” After a short pause, he added, “Maybe he’s staying on the island to wait for an answer.”

  “And that’s worth dying for?”

  “This business seems to be very serious with him. The Maelstrom, the Mare Tenebrosum, all those things.” He was silent for a moment, as the shadow of a dark memory brushed over him. Jolly put her hand on the railing over his. She knew there was nothing that could provide comfort for Munk, and yet she longed to be able to say something that would pull him out of his grief.

  “Hey,” said a voice behind them suddenly, “I’m sorry to disturb your intimate get-together. But I have to talk to you.”

  Jolly turned around with a sigh. “What do you want, Walker?”

  “Your gloomy friend with the poultry made me a lot of promises, certainly, but aside from a few coins, I haven’t seen much of all the riches that are supposedly coming to me.”

  She held his piercing eyes easily. She’d learned years ago not to let herself be intimidated by any pirate in the world, Nose high, eyes straight, and an expressionless face—she’d mastered a thousand moments like this already. “That’s not our problem.”

  “Oh, yes, I’m afraid it is. You’re passengers who haven’t paid for your passage yet.”

  “Have you forgotten what he said about the ghosts?” She tried to give her voice a dangerous undertone.

  He looked her over, “Now, who’s talking about such … well, inconveniences? Buenaventure up there is a veteran of the fighting pits of Antigua, There’s very little he couldn’t handle. But am I threatening you with him on that account? Such a thing never crossed my mind.”

  “You are so noble and good, Walker.”

  He grinned and showed his white teeth. “What it’s about for me is just business. No argument, no idiotic back-and-forth about who’s the stronger one here. Only … purchasing power. You understand?”

  Munk stared at him wordlessly, but his dark look spoke volumes.

  Jolly thought for a moment, then she took a deep breath. “So, you want a guarantee that you’ll really get your gold, right?”

  “That would be a fine gesture.”

  “Agreed.” She paid no attention to the questioning side glance Munk sent her. “I’m on the search for Bannon, You’ve probably heard what happened.”

  “The Maddy went down, the entire crew vanished without a trace. It’s said they’re dead.” He examined her searchingly, “How did you actually get out of that business safe and sound?”

  “That’s no concern of yours. You only need to know that I want to find Bannon—or at least a clue to what happened to him.”

  Walker nodded, “It’s clear so far.”

  “If we succeed in finding Bannon again, dead or alive, there’s a gigantic reward waiting for the one who helps me.”

  “Nice words,” said Walker, unimpressed.

  Jolly sighed, then turned her back to him and lifted her shirt, “See the tattoo?”

  “Ugly, What’s that supposed to be?”

  She let the shirt drop again and turned around to face him, “It’s half of a map. The way to Bannon’s treasure. The other half is on his back. If we find Bannon, the treasure belongs to you.”

  Walker mulled that over. “That wouldn’t be all right with him.”

  “You have my word.”

  “Oh, well, you know how it is in business….”

  “I can’t offer you any proof. Only my word of honor. If we find Bannon, I’ll personally see to it that you have a chance to copy the half of the map on his back—and the other half from mine.”

  Walker thought it over. He took his time. Perhaps he was weighing the little “for” and the overwhelming “against.”

  “Agreed,” he said finally. “Your word of honor?”

  “My word of honor.” She held out her hand. He took it and shook it hard.

  “Good girl,” he said before he turned around and went back up the steps to the bridge. “Bannon can be really proud of you.”

  Munk inched closer to her. “You said that thing on your back was going to be a coral someday.”

  “It’s supposed to be.”

  “But—”

  “I lied to him.”

  “Oh, marvelous.”

  She glared angrily at him. “Did you perhaps have a better idea?”

  Walker’s voice made her fall silent in alarm. “Jolly!”

  With thumping heart, she turned up to the bridge. “Yes?”

  “Your ghosts might be a fine thing,” he called down to her, “but for my taste they’re a little tight-lipped.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I need someone to go below deck and report to me how it looks down there. The Carfax is lying deeper in the water than usual. See if everything’s in order. I don’t want any unpleasant surprises.”

  “I can do that,” cried Munk.

  Jolly shook her head. “I’ll go.”

  She left the railing and ran to the cargo hatch. With both hands, she flipped it back and clambered down a steep ladder into the hold.

  Munk watched her disappear, then looked over at the sleeping pirate princess, slowly shook his head, and resumed staring out at the quiet sea. The light of countless stars twinkled over the waves, silvery, almost white, like the shards of millions of broken mirrors.

  “Uh, Walker?” Jolly was clambering out of the belly of the sloop again and standing on the top step of the ladder.

  The captain broke off his conversation with Buenaventure. “What’s the matter?”

  “Bad news.”

  “How bad?”

  “We have stowaways aboard.”

  Walker slammed his fist on the railing. “I’ll come right down. Stowaways? Several?”

  A pained smile spread across Jolly’s face. “At least fifty, I estimate.”

  “Fifty?” Walker leaped down the steps to the main deck in one bound.

  Jolly nodded. “And they smell … well, not good, I’m afraid. Not good at all.”

  The Gold Maker

  Walker and Munk hurried over to where Jolly was standing. Walker looked down through the cargo hatch.

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” escaped the captain.

  “Uh,” said Munk, and he turned away. “That smells like—”

  “Jean-Pauls,” said Walker.

  Jolly’s eyes widened. “Jean who?”

  Munk held his nose. “You mean French people smell like that?”

  “Those aren’t French,” said Walker impatiently. “They’re only called that.”

  “Pigs,” said Jolly. “The entire hold is full of pigs.”

  The grunting and snuffling of the animals was clearly audible on the ladder, even drowning out the sound of the ocean and of the wind in the rattling sails.

  Walker made the descent, although the broad backs of the pigs were visible from above. “An especially fat and heavy breed,” he said. “The French were the first to breed them on Haiti, so someone dubbed them Jean-Paul. The trader I lost the Carfax to must have intended to ship them.”

  Jolly left the ladder and joined Munk while Walker climbed down below, cursing and moaning. But after a few minutes he came back.

  “Disgusting. On my ship! It’ll take months to air it out down there.”

  “Will their weight hold us back very much?”

  Walker shrugged. “We’d be somewhat faster without them, anyway.” He considered it for a moment. “We could drive them overboard.”

  Jolly was shocked. “Absolutely not!”

  Walker rubbed his chin. “Better them than us, I’d say.”

  Munk came to Jolly’s aid. “We aren’t even being followed. They aren’t holding us up.”

  “Not yet,” said Walker.

  The idea that the pirate could drive the defenseless anima
ls into the water horrified Jolly to the core. Furthermore, he thus confirmed all her prejudices. “The animals stay aboard!” she said firmly.

  Walker scratched the back of his head. “Well, that makes them passengers, right?”

  Jolly took a deep breath. She felt she was going to burst, right then and there.

  “If you insist that they remain,” Walker continued, “then you must pay for their passage too, whether you like it or not, not just for your own.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Jolly had to keep herself from going for his throat.

  “Fiddlesticks! There are rules on board. One is that the transport of passengers must be paid for. And if you want these swine to make the voyage with us, you have to pay the price for them.”

  “I’ve promised you an entire treasure!”

  He thought about it. “It must be a really large treasure.”

  “It is, damn it all!”

  “How big?”

  “It’s … it’s” Jolly could hardly get out a coherent sentence, she was so furious.

  At that moment Soledad came to her rescue. “Walker!”

  The pirate turned to her.

  “You know who I am, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Your father was a good … business friend.”

  “You swindled him.”

  “Oh, that … only a slight misunderstanding.”

  “A whole shipload of rum. He swore to have your head for it.”

  “God bless him. He was an upright man, in spite of everything.”

  “You owed him something. And now, since he’s dead, you owe me. How many ducats were all those barrels of rum worth, Walker? A hundred? Five hundred?”

  He gave a deep sigh. “I see it already … the pigs can stay. But with that, we’re quits.”

  Soledad did something that Jolly found utterly and completely horrible, but the effect was enormous: She walked up, kissed Walker lightly on the cheek, winked at him, and whispered, “There’s still some honor, even among us pirates, isn’t there?”

  Walker beamed from one ear to the other, scratched his neck in embarrassment, cleared his throat, murmured “No hard feelings” to Jolly, and stomped back up onto the bridge.