“I suppose you are right,” I reluctantly agreed.
“Of course I am right, I am speaking.” He winked at me, and then shouted out to the sleeping hogs, “Out or down, men, out or down!”
I helped him slap them out of their hammocks. Once every man was standing, he announced the spotting of the prize on the horizon. After a rushed discussion of approach tactics, we all voted upon charging her before the sun came up, and then ran to our quarters.
With a golden glow lighting the sky behind the ship named Seraph, I was surprised to see how close she was. Aye, the distance was small enough that we’d need not trouble ourselves with false images. “Raise the black!” Cardozo shouted as he took to the helm.
Racing the black flag aloft, I clambered across the yard and ordered the men through the unfurling faster than ever before. The sheets filled with the wind. I held tight to the rigging as Zerena lunged towards our prey. Hungry and feisty, our slick little sloop bit at the face of the sea as we encroached, closing the gap between us as fiercely as a hawk stalking a timid mouse in a barren field where it had nowhere to hide.
Seraph was nowhere near ready to flee when we came in range, but Cardozo ordered the gunners to fire a warning shot, anyhow. The thundering thump of the sole gun blast sent an electrifying chill down my spine, and the scent of sulfur drifting on the breeze awoke my senses like a morning pot of coffee. Wide awake, with bright eyes on our prize, I watched Seraph raise her white flag.
We cut out the sails and prepared to board.
“Well, that was easy,” I chuckled to Dusty as I checked my weapons. “But you can never get too comfortable. Anything can happen at any time.”
After helping to secure Seraph with our grappling hooks, I donned the hood of my black cloak. For good measure, I even decided to wrap a sash around my face so only my eyes would be on display, in case anyone aboard knew me or my father.
Feeling like Midnight, I followed Cardozo across the boarding plank. The rest of our men walked behind me.
Over the duration of the sail, Cardozo and I had trained our men for this moment. The way they snarled and snapped at the surrendered sailors, like dogs ready to bite, assured me they had taken well to the lessons. In fact, watching as Cloud, Dusty, and Castro dramatically batted their paws at the group they had cornered, I believed they were enjoying it. Aye, the strangely offended looks on the sailor’s faces caused me to giggle beneath my face scarf. I was enjoying it, too. The power was exhilarating, as usual, but seeing a few well-dressed Englishmen among the bunch, had me feeling like I was inflicting a blow to the world which once held me down. Aye, this raid was personal.
Hearing one of the better dressed fellows mumble something foul, I aimed my gun at him. “Open that mouth again and I’ll put a hole through the backside of your head to match it.”
Frightened by the pistol-wielding pirate with no face to remember, the man stood stiff and silent in his place. I winked at him as I lowered my gun.
Once the sailors and passengers aboard Seraph were stripped of their weapons, Cardozo took a stand before them. “Good morning, fine sirs.” He offered a gentlemanly bow. “I truly appreciate your open invitation to board. In exchange for the hospitality, I assure you we will make swift of the plunder.”
“And what is it you think you are taking?” A short, finely dressed, wig wearing man asked.
Appearing to be as surprised as I was, Cardozo whipped his head in the direction of the voice. Considering the man’s lack of height, Cardozo eyed the group a few times before inquiring, “Who is asking?”
“Tis I.” The little fellow shoved his way out of the crowd. “Lord Vernon Wellington, the third.”
Unimpressed by his grand introduction, Cardozo chuckled, “Oh, you down there. Aren’t you a cute little thing?”
Vernon’s powdered cheeks reddened angrily. “I’ll have you know that I am one of the richest men in Port Royal, and if a sack of sugar or a bag of coin leaves this ship, I will be sure to see you hanged for the crime.”
As if he was taken aback by the threat, Cardozo gasped, “Well, now, Vernon—”
“Lord Vernon Wellington the third, to you!” The little man stood as tall as he could.
Suddenly looking bored as could be, Cardozo yawned. “I’m sorry Vernon, but I will call you what I wish to call you whenever the hell I wish to do so. I am the Lord of this here operation, and in regards to your pissy little threat, I’ll have you know that I will not be taking a sack of sugar or a bag of coin from this beautiful ship.”
“You won’t?” Vernon looked surprised.
“No.” Cardozo flashed a wicked grin. “I’ll be taking the ship and everything on it. Except you. You are annoying and I will have my men escort your pompous arse over to my Zerena, along with all of the others who do not wish to join us.”
Vernon’s jaw dropped like an anchor.
Cardozo went on to entice the sailors with a powerful speech about freedom and equality. More than half of them chose to join us. Apparently, their captain was a whip-wielding arse and they were happy to be free of his clutches. Vernon huffed that we’d be sorry as our men began the escort to their new ship. Cardozo patted his little head as he passed. “She is a fine vessel, good sir. I assure that you will find yourself rather pleased with the trade.”
Yanking his head away, Vernon squawked, “Trade? This is a robbery! And how do you suppose I will be happy with a ship that cannot be sailed?”
Looking at our men who were removing Zerena’s sails, Cardozo stroked his beard. “I have made better out of worse a time or two in my life. I am sure a lad as wise as you will be able to figure something out.”
As promised, the transfer went quickly, the damned guns from Zerena taking the longest to haul over. After the new men had signed the articles, we broke loose from Zerena and made sail.
Once we were well on course, I met Cardozo at the helm to discuss the day’s events. “We now have a total of twenty-five men, and considering the furniture, fabrics, and fine art that came along with the sugar and coin, each one of them will be fat with riches for our next visit ashore.”
“Poor men turned into rich men are generally happy men.” He smiled.
Though I was happy, too, one thing was weighing on my mind. “Aren’t you worried that little angry fellow will put a warrant out for your arrest?”
“Ah, young Bentley, that is why we took the sails. But more importantly than that, I do not give much of a shit about what that angry little man has planned. This is not the first crime I have committed, and I am sure it will not be my last, so to begin worrying about such things now would only open the door for future agonies.”
I laughed. “Being how you are speaking, I suppose you must be right.”
“You’re figuring things out, my white lily.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Don’t call me that.”
“You don’t like it? Shall I find another name for you?”
“No.” I loved it. Probably too much. “This just isn’t the time for such things.”
“No one heard me. I assure you.”
“And they won’t because you won’t speak that way again until we are off of this ship.”
“And then?”
“And then you will be free to do as you please with that saucy mouth of yours.”
X
Beaching our longboats along the swampy shore of the leech and snake infested river, I furled the little sail. “Well, I hate it here.”
Swatting a swarm of gnats out of his face, Cardozo huffed, “It is a terrible place indeed. Get us to that village, Cloud, so we can get this over with.”
Wearing the biggest smile I had ever seen on his face, Cloud said, “Follow me home.”
“Your English is getting better, Cloud,” I complimented as I shoved through the overgrowth behind him.
“You, I thank,” he said while hopping around like a happy little boy under the massive canopy of trees.
I nudged Cardozo. “Better watch ou
t, mate. The ill-spoken jungle boy now speaks as many languages as you.”
Looking far too irritated to be amused, Cardozo winced at the massive snake dangling from the tree above us. “How the hell far is this place?”
“Not far.” Cloud inhaled a deep sniff of the absurdly thick air. “Not far at all.”
“Like a dog, he sniffs his way home,” Cardozo grumbled before pulling his neck scarf over his face to keep the bugs away.
Feeling a bug crash against my tooth, I did the same.
The rest of our men tromped along behind us, all equally annoyed by the terrible weather, but it was Rotty’s insistent bantering that bothered me the most. Not wanting to hear another word from his whiny mouth, I was ever so happy when Cloud asked the group to wait in the grass-covered clearing, and then led Cardozo and me towards the boulders ahead.
Hopping over the rock pile like a monkey, Cloud made it hard for me and Cardozo to keep up behind him. Seeing him stop behind a rock twice his height, we hurried to catch up, and when we finally did—covered in sweat and out of breath—he flung his arm out to stop us. “You wait here.”
As he skipped across the next few rocks, I grabbed Cardozo’s arm and whispered through my face mask, “What if he never comes back?”
Annoyed as could be, Cardozo yanked his arm away from me. “Now is not the time to see the sense I spoke to you before we left. We are here, and if he does not return, I will hunt him down and make him suffer in the most memorable ways for dragging me to this awful place for his own selfish gain.” He started creeping along the path Cloud had taken.
I followed his lead.
From a spot not much further up the trail, we were able to set our sights on a little village neatly placed amongst a clearing in the trees. Small huts, some made of stone and others of canvas, surrounded a level field of grass which had a massive stone fire pit placed in the center of it all. Seeing brown-skinned people—dressed in colorful cloths, adorned with feathers and beads—milling about the area, we agreed to go back to where we were supposed to wait before we were seen snooping around.
After we waited for a miserable amount of time, Cloud came back to get us and our mates. To my great relief, the colorful people of his tribe welcomed us to their cute little village with happy faces and open arms.
All because I was Mason Bentley’s son.
Cloud’s tale was true. The joyful barrage of broken English and fast spoken Spanish greetings proved that these people not only knew my father, but loved him—especially the one they called Yobani. About my age, the little brown woman wrapped her arms around my neck and cried and cried on my chest—occasionally rubbing my cheek and blubbering that I looked just like my father. Sterling Mason, she called me. Apparently, Mason had spoken highly of his son. But where was he? I didn’t see him anywhere in the area. There were plenty of people working around their huts, and I even saw some farming in the garden. Maybe he was busy.
Overwhelmed by the surrounding fuss and Yobani’s heartfelt weeping, I was unable to inquire about any of the questions I’d come here to ask. When the leader of the tribe—a tall, brown man named Inazon—asked us to stay for dinner—I figured I’d have time to gather the information later.
Of course, we offered to pay for the hospitality, but Inazon plainly stated they had no use for loot. He was, however, more than happy to accept offerings in the terms of the linens and furniture which had once belonged to Lord Vernon Wellington, the Third.
Cardozo and Inazon commanded their men to make haste on the trade. Inazon offered to oversee the haul, in order to allow Cardozo to stay and translate for me and Yobani.
Once her wailing had calmed enough for me to speak to her, I asked, “Did Mason mention his daughter?”
Cardozo translated my question. She answered while drying her tears. “Si. Remington Rain. Sólo recientemente se reunió con su pero él la amó ya.”
Not quite sure what she had said, I looked to Cardozo.
“She said, he had just met Remington Rain, but he loved her dearly already. It is a lovely name you abandoned, by the way.”
I smiled at him. “Tell her that I am Remington Rain.”
“Are you sure? What about those gangly men we have to sail home with? They cannot know.”
“Explain the need for secrecy, but I want to tell her the truth. I don’t know why, but I feel like I can trust her and I want to be honest with her.”
After a moment of stroking the beard that was reclaiming his handsome face, he said, “All right.”
As he explained my identity to Yobani, I watched her pretty face twist in confusion. Eyeing me over doubtfully, she asked me in English, “Who you mother?”
“Hannah is my mother. Or, Midnight. Depending on who’s asking.”
“Midnight.” She gasped. Grabbing my hand, she dragged me towards the hut at the far end of the village.
Pulling back the colorful sheet blocking the doorway of the little stone hut, Yobani blasted some fast spoken Spanish at Cardozo as we entered the tiny room.
Since there was another colorful curtain covering the one tiny window, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the ill-lit area. As my vision cleared, I took my time to admire the strange little place as Cardozo explained what she was telling him. “This house belonged to Yobani and Mason. He built it for her, and with his hands he made almost everything in it.”
To the right, there was a small bed covered with a quilt of many colors. She proudly informed us that she’d stitched each colored patch with him in mind. To the left—just under the window—there was a table with two chairs. She told us he had made them so he could write in his journal there. The journal was on the table next to a colorful quill and a vase full of blooming flowers she had picked that morning. Most intriguing of all was a piece of canvas hung on the wall. Painted with what appeared to be berries and mud, was a unique image of a ship named Sunrise. Shit. That was the same ship my mother had painted and kept in her secret chest, but this piece was signed by Manimal.
While I stared at the ship in wonder, Yobani and Cardozo spoke back and forth until he finally told me what she was saying. “Mason asked his friend, Manimal, to paint this for him while he was healing. Apparently, Sunrise was his favorite ship. And this journal. She wants to show you some things in it.”
Yobani picked up the leather-bound book which Mason had engraved with the words:
-King of My Nightmare-
Showing me a few pages written in Mason’s familiar handwriting, followed by a sloppy attempt to mimic it, she told Cardozo to tell me that Mason had been teaching her to write. Then she flipped across a few pages where he wrote her sweet little love notes that I did not want to see or hear about. She didn’t have much interest in showing me the pages where he had written about Sterling and me, but when she came across a drawing, she laid the book down flat. I sat in the chair he had made, to admire the eerily familiar image.
Beneath a full moon with clouds rolling around it, stood a woman in a black cloak. A few braids had slipped out from her hood and were blowing in the breeze, with some loose leaves whipping about the flowing fabric of her cloak. She carried a bag that looked heavy—a fluffy cat tail shaped like a feather poked out of the top of it. Her expression was determined, but the sole tear running down her cheek—sparkling in the moonlight—proved that she was hurt. The picture was drawn so well by the artist that I could feel the pain in her heart and could hear the wind whipping through the night air. I was so carried away in the light of the moon that for a moment I forgot sunlight was shining on the world around me.
Remembering this was just a drawing, I looked to see if the artist had signed it. There was no signature, and I knew Mason couldn’t draw, so I thought perhaps Manimal had done it for him. But the words written in Mason’s handwriting assured me that the image itself was from his imagination, or perhaps his memory.
-Midnight Will Forever Haunt My Dreams-
My heart sank into my gut. Here I was in a stone hut hidden aw
ay in the jungles of Panama and that witchy little wench was still frightening me. Shaking off the ghostly chill that had struck me in this swamping heat, I listened closely as Cardozo explained what Yobani had to say about the ghastly drawing, “Yobani says Mason told her Hannah was the mother of the children he spoke of all the time. She said, she feels like she knows you and Sterling because she has heard so much about you, but Mason never said much about Hannah, and never once said a thing about anyone named Midnight. But Yobani is sure Midnight is a wicked witch who cast a spell on Mason’s soul, for the moment after this drawing appeared, Mason left for the sea.”
“Left?” I shrieked. “Where did he go? I was hoping he was out in the garden or something.”
He relayed my words to Yobani, who responded with her head held low. Cardozo shared her words with me. “He only recently left.”
My jaw dropped. “No shit? Ah! That is awful.”
Yobani hurriedly said something, nudging Cardozo to address it to me. Rolling his eyes like he did not care about this part of the story, he unemotionally expressed the words that seemed to mean so much to her. “She says, she loved Mason like she never loved another, but she knew all along that he would set out to find the children he adored.” She rambled on some more. He explained, “She was certain that day would come and is thankful she held him for the short time she did, but she had always hoped he would take her along, or at least plan to return. But now she thinks he left her for another woman, and she knows she cannot compete with the mother of his children. She always knew he loved that woman more than he loved her.”
Like Cardozo, I didn’t care about that shit, either. Annoyed as could be, I slapped my forehead. “I can’t believe this. I’ve come all the way across the world to find this man, only to learn he has spent the last few years snuggling up to a girl the same age as me in this little jungle hut, where he has been daydreaming of my witch of a mother who broke his heart over and over. I keep hoping the Lord doesn’t hate me as much as I think he does, but this just proves it. I am destined for failure.”
Never Surrender (Uncharted Secrets, Book 4): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 13
