“I have another job for you.”
“Another?”
“I want to commission gold pieces. Do you know a goldsmith we can trust with my business?”
“I—yes. I do. I know of a good one who cares only for profit.”
Joseph nodded. He understood what his informant would not say. There was a jeweler who would do business with a Jew for the right price. He opened a drawer, pulled out a small packet and slid it across the desk.
“Take this to your jeweler. My instructions are enclosed along with a deposit. Come to me in three days and tell me his price.”
“And my account?”
Joseph waved his hand, dismissing the man. “I will reduce your account when you bring me the finished pieces.”
He waited until his informant had closed the door and then rose to stand at the window. Charles de Gyll was so deep in his debt that the man had no hope of recovery and both of them knew it. It had been a long-term investment on Joseph’s part. After all, unless his father met an untimely end, one that the moneylender would not be surprised to hear of, the young man would be in debt for a very long time. The interest rate was staggering—foolish really. They would lose much of their lands if the man lived another twenty years. Then again, if this statute did go into effect…
His fingers played with the silken tassels on the cord that tied back the drapes as he pondered his choices. Joseph knew the resentment for the Jews. A few, such as he, had become quite wealthy over the years. He’d taken his father’s simple business of loaning small amounts of well-secured property for short loans and made a name for himself and the entire family. His sons and his son’s sons would be able to live off the interest of their fortune if he could manage to protect it from the King.
He would send Jacob and his family to France immediately. They would smuggle out gold and then Abram would follow in a month’s time—maybe two. The ideas formed quickly as he returned to his table, opening the ledger once more.
Ingelby… he would be a good choice. His father owned boats at Dover. The debt wasn’t high, but a promise of ten percent erased for each trip might be worth it. He’d eventually work off the entire debt and Joseph’s family would be free.
A new thought occurred to him—one that could speed up the process. Joseph pulled out two small sheets of paper and began writing notes. He first scrawled a summons to Ingelby but did not hint at the reason. It would not hurt to make the man squirm a bit. He then wrote new instructions for the jeweler and for Charles de Gyll.
The servant, Ruben crept into the room at Joseph’s summons. “Take these quickly. Deliver them before dawn but do not be seen.”
“Yes, Joseph. Anything else?”
“Follow Charles tomorrow. I want to know where he goes and who he speaks to.”
The sun rose, but no one in London could feel its warmth or see its rays behind the thick fog that shrouded the city. When Jacob ben Joseph stepped into his father’s study, he found the man still sitting in the previous day’s clothing, hands folded on his chest. Waiting.
“Jacob, we must make plans—today.”
Chapter Six
Battle
The sea—deceptively calm. With his telescope trained on the horizon, he waited for any sign of their pursuer, and as he waited, he thought—so many decisions to make. The early hours before the crew began their work were the best.
They had to sink the other ship. If it were El Cazador, they would need every advantage. The last time they’d encountered their hunter, he’d almost gotten to Sebastian—again. Memories of the toddler’s disappearance in those first inexperienced months on the sea churned the bile in his stomach. That must never happen again. Never.
He’d resisted the tug toward the Americas, but El Cazador thought he would stay close to Europe. If he could get away without notice…
Nicolo’s eyes closed at the thought of what it would mean. They couldn’t head into such unfamiliar waters, so far away, without proper provisions. What if no good ships came along? To risk the lives of his crew on such a gamble was irresponsible at best—criminal, really.
His lips twisted as he considered the irony in a pirate being concerned about criminal actions. He’d come so far—learned so much. Could he start over again in a new place? The name Nicolo Soranzo had become legendary in the Mediterranean during the past ten years. Even the Ottoman corsairs along the Barbary Coast feared him. Would anyone in the Caribbean know of him or care?
El Cazador would not expect such a move. Their ship wasn’t ideal for crossing the Atlantic. Agitated at the thought, Nicolo shook his head. It would be madness to consider it. Then again, with the oarsmen, it would get them through the doldrums near the tropics as they neared the equator. Perhaps…
Eduardo found him staring off into the horizon. “Do you see the ship?”
“Not yet. It is still too dark.”
“What will we do?”
Nicolo passed the telescope to his quartermaster and gestured for Eduardo to look as well. “I am considering a radical move.”
“You think we should run?”
“After we disable the ship, yes. I am hoping that they will see us ready to fire and run themselves. That might mean it isn’t our adversary, but it isn’t likely.”
“Disable or sink?”
The man’s face hardened. “We sink her. She won’t chase us again and hopefully El Cazador will drown.”
“Where will we go?”
“The Caribbean. The hunter will expect us to stay close enough to hear news quickly.”
“Can we sail The Vengeance that far? Where will we put in for supplies?”
Nicolo did not answer. He stood, his hands gripping the railing, staring out to a sea he knew and loved. “We can’t. We must disable the ship and go.”
“We’ll never make it, Nicolo. You cannot expect the men to—”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” The pirate stormed. “Do you think I haven’t tried to find some other way? What can I do?”
Seconds passed before Eduardo released a ragged sigh. “Nothing. You must. I see it now. If you stop for supplies, it gives them time to repair or take another ship. It tells them we might be leaving these waters. We go to sea and wait for ships from Spain or Portugal, raid, and send them back limping.”
“Yes.”
Again, silence hung between them until Eduardo said, “We will not survive if we do not capture a ship. You know this.” He passed the telescope back to his captain with a shake of his head. “Nothing that I can see.”
“I know. We must also leave the papers and some of the treasure I have behind. We cannot risk it ending up at the bottom of the Atlantic. If Sebastian were to survive a capture or worse...”
“Where?”
Barely able to control the tremor in his hands, Nicolo pulled a map from his coat pocket. He unrolled it, spreading it across the railing and pointed to a small group of islands off the coast of Spain. “That islet near Formentera.”
“Are you insane? You are asking for capture!”
“They would not look there. They will not expect it. We must try. You will leave me and maybe Jaime in a rowboat near the islet while you and the others raid one area of the main island. They would never imagine that two of us buried something while you raided, and they won’t expect us to sail through the strait.”
“I don’t know, Nicolo. This is very risky. We will likely lose men when they hear of it.”
“We cannot tell them.”
“What?”
“We cannot give them the option of leaving. No one must know that we left the Mediterranean.”
“Nicolo! That is little better than press ganging!”
“I trust you, Eduardo. I trust almost no one, but I trust you. If you cannot come then you are free to go; I know you would never tell, but the others must not know. I will give them my share of the next ship we take. I will make it up to them.”
The two men stood at the Captain’s deck, staring out int
o the inky blackness, waiting for that faint hint of light that signaled the coming of dawn. Neither spoke. Nicolo waited, his entire body shaking with repressed rage at the dangers they were put upon by El Cazador. Beside him, Eduardo counted the cost to the men if he kept silent.
At last, the quartermaster spoke. “I could not leave you and the boy. You know this. I would die for you.” Clapping his hand on Nicolo’s shoulder, he laughed weakly, “I will probably die for you.”
“Dying for the object of one’s loyalty, although indubitably heroic, is not as useful as living to fight for it,” Nicolo rejoined. “Better that you should first kill the man who tries to kill us.”
Eduardo’s shoulders slumped as he leaned against the rail again, his hands clasped together in a visible attempt at self-control. “Your thirst for vengeance cannot be quenched my friend. Someday it will consume you.”
“And then will I die satisfied at last.”
A sharp retort rose on the quartermaster’s lips, but something in the distance caught his attention. He took the telescope from Nicolo and raised it to his eye. At that moment, the faintest hint of the coming dawn rose in the horizon, giving a murky but definite outline of a ship. “Look.”
Nicolo gave it only a brief glance before he turned. I’ll rouse Jaime.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The sudden weight of heavy fabric rudely awakened Sebastian just before sunrise. He shoved the ornately embroidered sleeve off his face and glowered at Jaime in the dim light. “You don’t have to rub it in,” he mumbled as he crawled from the covers.
“Just get it on. It’s almost light and Eduardo spied the ship five minutes ago.”
The young men struggled to get Sebastian into the dress and piled his hair on his head, holding it in place with the combs. Jaime’s appraising look nearly drove Sebastian wild, but his comments exasperated him further. “I really do think you need that necklace—maybe earrings too.”
Sebastian lunged but missed as Jaime jumped out of the way and slipped through the door, locking it behind him. Once again, the wait began. He found an orange and some bread on his bed. Jaime must have brought it when he came to begin the day’s torture. “How thoughtful,” he muttered.
As he peeled the fruit, Sebastian smiled. At least they’d managed to get fruit and meat. It helped. No one knew why, but it helped. They tried to ration it, but without frequent stops or raids on ships just heading out to sea, the men ran out of fresh food. Eduardo insisted that fresh meat was what helped most. Jaime and his father believed it was the fruits and vegetables. Sebastian thought the salt air of the sea caused the scurvy they all feared. They never got sick on land—another reason to stop piracy and take up real professions.
They could move to Italy, France, Spain. His father could become a legitimate merchant. For all he knew, there was enough money that his father would never have to work!
Though he often complained about their life, Sebastian never admitted why. It wasn’t the dress or even that they lived on a ship. Those were annoyances. No, times like that morning were what he hated most. The tension, the waiting, then the cannon fire and when boarding a ship, the fighting, blood, the cries of wounded or dying men. He hated it—hated it all.
His father admired bravery, but Sebastian admired constancy. Nicolo was ruthless toward those he considered deserving of his wrath. Sebastian despised all kinds of violence and anger. The brutality cut at him, but he hid it inside where his father could not see it. His father must never know what a weak person his son really was.
Sebastian stared down at the skirts. They mocked him. Perhaps it was God’s way of punishing him for his weakness. A silent testimony to his true nature. He was a coward. He knew it, and yet, Sebastian could not help but be disgusted by the violence and disregard for law and traditional honor.
Unable to stand the suspense, he finally peeked out the porthole and saw the ship approaching. It sailed swiftly for such a large ship, but it would not turn in time to load and fire. He could see the wisdom of their plan. If it were El Cazador, they would be out of reach long before the ship could sail again, provided his father did not try to sink it completely.
At that thought, he knew his father’s plan was not to disable but to destroy. His father feared little, but Nicolo Soranzo most definitely feared El Cazador. Men would die today. The thought sickened him.
The call to attack came seconds before the dreaded confirmation of Sebastian’s worst fears. “Give no quarter!” Show no mercy. The next cry of “fire in the hole” gave him a moment’s warning before the ship shook with the force of cannon fire. One after another, the fourteen guns fired, causing the ship to rock as if on stormy seas.
The other ship took direct hits at the helm—twice. The calm, quiet wait would prove deceptive. Both ships maneuvered into the best position for what Sebastian assumed would be the next wave of gunfire—either that or the other ship would run. Please, God let it run, Sebastian prayed unconsciously.
To his shock and dismay, the other ship chose to come about to return fire. It wouldn’t have a chance. The calls to fire came instantly. Instinctively, he knew that the middle four cannons would have chain shot to rip apart the masts. One hit the main mast while another tore up the deck near the foremast. Wood flew into the air like chips for kindling.
The other ten guns ripped apart the hull and it seemed as if the quarterdeck had caught fire. They’d run now. He waited for the call, but it didn’t come. A cannon ball whizzed by and hit the bow of The Vengeance. Sebastian waited impatiently for the call of all clear. The ship did not list to one side or end. Why did Mola take so long? The carpenter must not like something—there it was. All clear.
The ship turned, the oarsmen doing their job two days in a row. They’ll be happy to let the sails do the work alone in the days ahead, he thought.
The fire spread on the other ship, making Sebastian wonder if they’d used a hot shot. Usually his father refused the added risk to his ship and his men, but for El Cazador, he might deem it worth it. The men had probably volunteered. Yes, that must be it.
Another cannon ball flew over the ship, landing larboard by a good twenty yards. Several more followed. One seemed headed straight for his cabin, making Sebastian flatten himself on the floor, covering his head, but all for nothing.
By the time he allowed himself to peek out the window, the other ship had begun to sink, men spilled out of it into the water, grasping planks and scrambling into rowboats. The distance spread between them until he felt confident that there would be no more cannon fire.
Now came the endless wait. His father would inspect the damage, speak to the men, send the injured to the cook for patching, and then after everyone else was settled, send for him. It could be hours, depending on the damage. Then again, as swiftly as the ship cut through the water already, it might not be too bad.
To his surprise, his door flung open minutes later and Jaime hurried in to help him out of the dress. “Your father wants to see you now. He told me to bring you as you are, but even I can’t do that to you.”
Sebastian snatched the combs from his hair and jerked his arms from the offending dress. He threw a shirt over his head and stepped out of the skirts and into his breeches. Not bothering to wait for boots, he tore from the confining room and raced down the gangway and up to his father’s quarters. This had to be big—very big.
Chapter Seven
Hidden
Nicolo watched with pride and a pang to his heart as Sebastian burst through the door. So like his mother. People often commented on how there was little resemblance between them—mostly facial expressions and mannerisms. The older the lad grew, the more dissimilar they became in looks, personality, and temperament.
“We did it, Papa! Is everyone all right? No serious injuries?”
“Just that fool Hector. He dove for the bow just as that cannon ball ripped a hole in it. He is covered in splinters—a bad one in his cheek—barely missed his eye.”
“Who—”
“Papa! How could you?”
“Filipe won’t let him do too much damage,” Nicolo teased. Changing the subject, he pulled some papers from beneath a log book and rolled them carefully. “You need to listen to me, son. This is very important. The papers I am putting in this jar are vital to your future. Do you understand?”
“What are they?”
“It is best if you do not know.” Nicolo saw the frustration in his son’s eyes and shook his head. “Son, I am not trying to hide things from you because I think you are too young or too immature. I would tell you if I should. It is just best that I don’t. I wouldn’t show them to Jaime, Eduardo—even your mother.”
“I see.”
It was evident from his son’s expression that he did not truly understand but that he believed his father’s words. “Jaime is wise for someone so young. He said you were becoming a man.” Nudging Sebastian’s shoulder playfully he added, “He also says you make a lovely signorina.”
“Oh, Papa it is so degrading. Can’t I just be chained to the rowing crew like a slave boy?”
“You’ll have a better chance at survival if they think you are a wealthy man’s daughter. They’ll try to ransom you—perhaps. Otherwise you’ll be killed with the rest.”
“I suppose…”
“Take heart. In a few years you’ll grow a beard, and then our feeble attempts at deception won’t work anymore.”
Sebastian grinned. “Perhaps if I trim my hair and find some wax…”
As they spoke, Nicolo put the papers in a jar and then fingered a small packet. “This is very important for you and your future. Precious. It was your mother’s and she cherished it. I remember when she first shared it with me—” He choked at the memory of that day. “She did me honor to share it. You must never betray that trust, Sebastian. Promise me.”
“I promise. What is it?”
“I cannot tell you. You wouldn’t understand the value or the importance. It would only confuse you—now. Someday, though. Someday you will understand. I didn’t understand back then, but I do now.”
Legends of the Vengeance : The First Adventure (9781310742866) Page 4
