“And alone, Nicolo. No Heavenly Father or earthly one to turn to. Nothing to comfort him.”
Nicolo’s laugh rang hollow as he shoveled. “That is where you are wrong,” he argued, rolling the jar with the tip of the spade. “He will have this. It is all he will need.”
Chapter Twelve
Raid & Rescue
From his cabin, Sebastian tried to ignore the mental images of what he knew would happen in port. Over and over, he tried to draw the pile of lemons that Jaime had smuggled into his room. After each attempt, he washed them away and tried again. Once he managed a realistic sketch of the pile, but his skirts smudged them terribly—ruining the attempt. He tried again—and again.
To his surprise, the men returned much more quickly than expected. They were angry, frustrated. He listened as much as he could as they set sail away from the island and to where they would rendezvous with his father. From out the porthole, he saw the dory rowing toward them and sighed in relief. It was done. They would be safe for one more day.
As usual, it took forever for someone to come let him out of his cabin and out of his dress. Each time those words entered his thoughts, Sebastian fought back a scream of frustration. A boy shouldn’t ever have to think the words, “his dress.”
When the door unlocked, he was surprised to find Mac there. “Your father sent me, laddie. They’re plannin’ something. I don’t know what that is or what it means, but it be soundin’ serious from what I heard.”
“What did you hear?”
Mac hesitated. “Well, I don’t know that I should be tellin’ ye, but there weren’t much on that island. The raiders came back with little to aid the journey.”
“Journey? What journey?” Sebastian pulled the dress over his head once Mac’s clumsy fingers got the laces loosened.
“I’m thinkin’ I’ve already said too much. You talk to your papa. I’d better be fixin’ the meal. Those men work up an appetite, don’t they?”
The door shut behind the big, burly man, leaving Sebastian staring at the dress in his hands confused. He hesitated. Should he wait to hear or go listen for himself? It didn’t take him long to decide against the foolish idea to wait. His father had been acting so strangely that it was unlikely he’d be given any information at all, and if his father didn’t tell him, Jaime certainly wouldn’t.
He threw his shirt over his head and grabbed his jerkin. Dashing down the steps into the hold, he wrestled his arms into the holes and pulled the garment over his head. He finally made it to the corner beneath his father’s cabin. Twice the others almost caught him, but he slipped past and crawled up where he could hear best and be most comfortable. The men argued about something—supplies. It made no sense. They could go into a port and buy some. They could go into a port and steal some. They could even raid another ship—there it was.
“We’ll go out into the ocean and wait for one of the ships leaving Seville. It isn’t optimal, but it will work. There should be some consistently for the next few weeks.”
“It’s risky, Captain! You know that. If we go out into those waters with our small ship and too few supplies, we’re going to die!”
Jaime’s quiet voice broke through the other men’s voices. “Has Nicolo ever let us starve, Eduardo? Has he? How can you speak with so little confidence in him?”
“The men will revolt if a ship doesn’t come, and soon. You know this, Jaime. They are loyal but there is a limit to their loyalty.”
The words spun in his mind. Why would the men revolt? Why would they be hungry? They go out, if the ships don’t come from Seville, they come back and raid. It wasn’t a difficult idea if even he could think of it.
“What about Sebastian? Will you risk the boy? How can you risk the boy after all we’ve done to help you keep him alive?” Eduardo had grown desperate if he brought up the captain’s son!
Sebastian wanted to scream and ask why it would be a risk. It didn’t make sense. What were they talking about now?
“We will go. We will find a ship just leaving Seville or even Cadiz. We will capture it and gain supplies. We will succeed because we must.”
“You aren’t being realistic, Nicolo. The men will be upset to find themselves headed to the other side of the world. This isn’t just down the coast of Africa. This is the Americas. We don’t know the route. We don’t know anything. We’re lost. This is dangerous!”
Sebastian missed the next words. The Americas? Why were they going all the way there? Would their ship make it? What would they do? They didn’t have enough supplies. Why couldn’t they load up first? Why didn’t they take a new ship even—a stronger one that would make it across that long stretch?
“—find people to help there? Where? What about Hector? You promised him fortune.”
“And he’ll get it!” Sebastian’s father roared. “When have I ever broken my word? When have I not helped someone I promised to give a new life?”
A door slammed and silence echoed above him—ominous, it felt ominous. What would Jaime say? Did his friend know he was down there—listening?
“Nicolo, it is Eduardo’s job to be the voice for those men. He is right. They will feel betrayed by you. You are not giving them the opportunity to follow. It is almost kidnapping.”
“I will explain. They will understand.”
“You are blind if you think that these men are not going to feel like slaves rather than your army of protectors.”
His father said nothing for several long moments. A minute passed—two. “I will make it up to them. They will feel wronged at first. I know this. But I know my men. For all my faults, I am not blind to their loyalty. They will understand when I can explain. We must get us safely away where I can explain.”
A shout from somewhere sent Nicolo from the cabin. Sebastian started to creep away when he heard Jaime say, “And Sebastian needs to remember this when he thinks his father does not care or understand. Sebastian should see the torment his father goes through to protect him.”
Now Sebastian did slink back to his cabin. He sat on the bed, laid himself out, and then stood once more. His eyes sought the porthole. He gazed out over the water and tried to imprint it all in his memory.
The realization that he might never return hit him hard. As much as he hated the life they led, as much as he ached for a new one in a quiet village somewhere, it was the only life he’d ever known. He’d learned to talk, swim, almost learned to walk on the decks of The Vengeance. One of the men his father helped taught him to play the flute while the waters of the Mediterranean Sea rippled beside them. He’d also lost his first flute in those same waters.
If they made it to the Americas, what would it mean for them? Excitement filled his heart at the idea that maybe without the connections his father had in Europe and Africa he would have no one to help. The men would take up jobs on other ships or maybe start businesses in ports along the coast. They could live in Chile. Sebastian smiled. Yes. Chile. It was the only name he knew from the area. There were pirates and buccaneers in the Caribbean. Would the buccaneers consider them competition? After all, most of the buccaneers were anxious to capture Spanish ships and those would likely be the ships his father wanted. The Spanish had huge galleons full of gold, silver, and setting out for Spain meant they’d be loaded with food and other supplies. Everyone would be after them.
Why his father had decided not to tell the men, Sebastian couldn’t comprehend. His father had sounded so adamant. That made him more nervous than the impending voyage.
The door opened, but Sebastian did not turn. Assuming it would be Jaime, he continued to stare out at the coast of Spain as they passed the tip on their way to Gibraltar. He jumped at his father’s voice.
“We did it. We got it buried. You need to come so I can show you how to find it.”
Without turning, he asked, “Did the men succeed as well?”
It was the wrong question. The moment he said it, Sebastian realized that reminding his father of failure— even if supposed
ly innocently—would make Nicolo withdraw. Proof of it came with the single syllable answer. “No.”
“I am sorry.” What else could he say?
“Come.”
His shoulders drooped as he turned to follow. “Where do we go now?”
“I’ll announce our destination later. You’ll learn when the crew does.”
They wandered up on deck and down the gangway to Nicolo’s cabin. It stood empty now. Maps lay spread out on the table his father used as a desk. The top one showed the routes from Spain to South America. “Are we going to try to capture a Spanish ship going to America?”
“Yes.”
“It should be loaded with supplies.” He had to keep talking— anything to get his father to open up to him. “I guess since we had to leave Siracusa so quickly we need something.”
“Yes.”
He stifled a sigh and tried again. He must succeed—why, Sebastian couldn’t have said. “There isn’t anything along the coast that we can get instead? I thought you didn’t like going out into the Atlantic like that.”
“The ships from Cadiz will have what we need.”
“I am sorry, Papa.”
Now his father looked at him— really saw him. “Why?”
“If you had not had to look for me, we might not have to go where you don’t want to go. It is my fault, isn’t it?” Guilt struck his heart. The manipulation—childish and selfish—but Sebastian had grown desperate for his father to confide in him.
“Remember that we were leaving anyway. I was recognized, son. In fact, you going ashore got us the beef and some of the fruit and water. It probably helped,” he added begrudgingly.
“Oh.” What else could he say?
“Look at this map of the islet. It is only a few thousand feet from tip to tip.”
“Did you find trees? I didn’t see any.”
Nicolo shook his head. “No. Just bushes. There are no landmarks, nothing to indicate where we could bury something, so we improvised. It will not be easy to find the jars. Taking more will make it even more awkward.”
“Taking more?”
His father nodded. “Yes. We will eventually take more, I’m sure. Look here. Jaime stood here, and I stood here. We walked together, with about this distance—” his father pointed from the tip of his middle finger to his elbow, “in stride. We measured it repeatedly until we were consistent.”
“So the jar is here?” Sebastian pointed to the spot in the middle where a circle that looked like a rock seemed out of place.
“Yes. There are many rocks and bushes around like that. It isn’t so out of place when you are there. It will be hard to find, but we left it unmarked—a little.”
“A little?”
“My kerchief is under the rock. It will rot over time, but hopefully if you overturn all the rocks in the area, you’ll find a scrap or two left. When we return, we’ll leave new ones.”
He hesitated—nervous, but felt compelled to ask. “Papa?”
“Yes?”
“Why is it so important? If you can’t tell me what is in there now, can you tell me what will be?”
“Would it not be the same thing?”
As much as he protested, claiming that he hated it, his father’s ruffling of his hair felt good—safe. “I suppose. I just assumed that the packet was the secret.”
“It is—and more. I can tell you that what we take later will help give you a good life someday. You will be a wealthy man, Sebastian. You can do and be anything you want someday.”
Sebastian looked at the map and the circle that showed the location of this good fortune of his future. “Will you be there?”
“Where?”
A lump formed in Sebastian’s throat before he choked out, “Wherever I am, being whoever and whatever I want to be?”
“If you want me there and I am still alive, I will be there.”
He grinned. “Then it will be a very good life.”
~~~~~~~~~~
A voice startled Sebastian as he entered his cabin. In a falsetto that sounded nothing like him, Jaime chirped, “‘…but I thought you didn’t like going out into the Atlantic like that.’”
He flushed at the realization that Jaime had listened just as he had—listened and known exactly how manipulative and deceitful he’d been. “I—”
“Subtlety.” Sebastian waited for Jaime to explain himself, but the older lad didn’t speak until he looked up again. Jaime raised one eyebrow and added, “It would behoove you to learn it.”
Chapter Thirteen
The Legend: Part Three
The night before they were to reach Gibraltar, the wind calmed until there was barely a whiff of a breeze. Knowing that they would need the oarsmen the next day as they pushed through the straight, Nicolo and Eduardo agreed to drop sail and float through the night. When he heard the news, Sebastian raced to beg Jaime for more of the story.
Nearly every man on ship crowded on to the deck, silent as they could be in order to hear Jaime. It wouldn’t work. Those farthest from him would hear only pieces of the story, but it gave them something to do and relaxed everyone after a day’s work.
When he settled himself down, Jaime glanced around him and waited for Sebastian to creep closer. Nicolo had never shown much interest in his stories before, but he stood not five feet away, his arms leaning against the rail, relaxed and attentive. It had taken years to perfect this story and was the first that he felt was truly his own. The others he’d told were reworked ones he’d heard as a child, but this one was new—fresh. No one outside a few select people had ever heard of the Legend of the Family of Joseph ben Saolomon.
He backtracked, retelling the final bits from his last session, ending with Joseph’s wild cackle before he continued.
The large, long room boasted an enormous table. Every chair had been filled, from the head where Joseph ben Saolomon sat next to his beloved Rebekah, all the way to the foot where the smallest grandchild dandled on Jacob’s knee. The lamb, roasted to perfection—the vegetables plenty. Wine flowed freely—a testimony of the goodness of God.
Joseph sat quietly at the table, listening to the conversation of his family. The laughter, the joking and teasing, it was important to him—to them. Only Jacob, seated at the other end of the room, seemed to feel the coming changes. In the flickering candlelight, his son nodded.
He stood. “My family, God is good to us. He has prospered us far above what we could have dreamed.”
“You are a shrewd businessman, Papa!” The family echoed his youngest son’s compliment.
“Thank you, David. You are a good son to me.”
He waited, looking around the table, seeing each of his children’s and grandchildren’s faces before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a large packet. A servant girl removed his plate, allowing him to open the packet on the table. Heads leaned forward, craning to see what the important announcement was.
A chain hung from his index finger, the star engraved with the Shema dangling from it and sparkling in the flickering candlelight. “I have gifts for my son Jacob and his family. Jacob, please bring your children to me that I may bless you all.”
Jacob stood and gestured for his wife, Clara, to bring their daughters. He carried the baby, Joseph after his grandfather, and led their son Simeon to where his father stood, waiting to give the traditional blessing. They clustered around the room, Jacob towering over his shorter father, and waited with the rest of the family to hear what Joseph would say.
The necklace still hung from his fingers when Jacob stood before him. Joseph draped the chain over his son’s head and pronounced the familiar Shabbat blessing on him. Simeon watched with eyes full of wonder as his grandfather blessed him and his little brother. Even the baby seemed awed by the solemn moment and did not jerk the chain around his neck. “…like Ephraim and Menashe. May God bless you and watch over you. May God shine His face…”
He turned to Clara, kissing her cheeks with great emotion in his face and in his
voice. Tears poured down her cheeks as he placed the necklace over her head and pronounced the blessing on her. Their daughters, Leah and Rose each received their stars with eyes wide with awe at the scene before them. “…you like Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Leah. May God bless you and watch over you…”
A few tears around the table made the children look quickly first to their father and then their grandfather. The answers did not come. Joseph and his Rebekah clung to Jacob’s family, one after another, whispering words of comfort, direction, and affirmation of their love and affection. Still, the children did not understand.
At last, Jacob led his family back to their seats. Tears in his eyes, he raised his glass and asked, “Will you ask the Tefilat HaDerech?”
Gasps erupted around the room. Women turned nervous and troubled eyes to their husbands, and children whimpered as they saw their cousins at the end of the table falter in their joy at receiving their gifts.
“I will, my son. The Traveler’s Prayer— May it be Your will, LORD, our God and the God of our ancestors, that You lead us toward peace, guide our footsteps toward peace, and make us reach our desired destination for life, gladness, and peace. May You rescue us from the hand of every foe, ambush along the way and from all manner of punishments that assemble to come to earth. May You send blessing in our handiwork, and grant us grace, kindness, and mercy in Your eyes and in the eyes of all who see us. May You hear the sound of our humble request because You are God Who hears prayer requests. Blessed are You, Adonai, Who hears prayer.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The bitter cold of Dover bit into their bones as Jacob ben Joseph and his family met Ingleby outside a tavern near where the boat was supposed to be harbored. The man spoke little, but led them to where the boat, a crare, waited to carry them across. The rough water buffeted the little boat as it bounced over the waves and the wind tore at their clothes and the cart of belongings Jacob pulled with him, but at last, they boarded the ship.
“I have put you in a storeroom. Most of the men will not be here for hours yet. We must get you down there quickly.”
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