Legends of the Vengeance : The First Adventure (9781310742866)

by Havig, Chautona

  “Eduardo would have the sense not to charge a wild animal without a weapon,” the quartermaster admonished. “But I think he might have at your age.”

  The confession soothed his pride. Sebastian didn’t have any special fondness for the burly man, but respect was another matter. It was nice to know that someone he respected hadn’t been so terribly different at his age.

  “Did you see anything else interesting?”

  Sebastian smiled up at his father. “Just a crab. I thought I’d go down the other side of the beach.”

  “Good idea,” Eduardo agreed. “Just don’t charge any more hogs.”

  “I won’t.”

  The men were in good spirits—possibly due to the coming removal of Hector but more likely, because it had been a successful journey. They’d survived near starvation, battled a storm that should have killed them, sailed across the ocean in a ship that was much too small and too shallow-bottomed to make it, and then reached this wonderful place where the air was warm and the treasure to be won promised to be enormous. Even as much as Sebastian protested their very existence at times, he couldn’t help the well of excitement that slowly filled his heart.

  Warm sand tickled his feet as he walked along the shore. Never had he seen such incredibly blue water, such strange trees. He’d heard of the skinny, pole-like trees with the strange feathery tops, but he’d never seen them. Palm trees, his father called them. Then again, he hadn’t seen many trees at all in his lifetime. Whales, dolphins, great sharks and octopi, certainly, but not many trees or flowers.

  The warm water rippled over his toes. The tide would turn soon. A glance behind him showed the rest of the men very far down the beach—so far that they looked like specks on the sand. Should he go back?

  Something caught his eye a little further down the beach. The water near the shore seemed different somehow. He hurried to examine it and found a river flowing into the ocean. The small cove would be a perfect place to live, if not for the solitude. Hector was right about that; the novelty would become a burden and quickly.

  A fire down the beach told him they’d begun the cooking process. Mac probably tried a dozen ways to ruin it, but with Giorgio and Jaime, things couldn’t go wrong. It would be delicious. Despite the men’s warnings, he crept further and further inland, curious about the different sounds. There seemed to be few animals but many birds.

  Plants grew over the ground, spreading their vines and pods everywhere. He saw strange plants with large white, fluffy bolls on them—clusters of them. Curious, he plucked a few to bring back to the men. Short trees with leaves that smelled almost like pepper tempted him, but he resisted. They could be poisonous.

  Sebastian stared at his hands. He’d touched the puffs of white. Why hadn’t he been cautious about them? Was it the lack of scent? He must be more careful.

  Another tree tempted him with golden fruit that looked delicious. He hesitated over the oddly shaped pieces, wondering if just touching them would be dangerous. He’d better wait and show Jaime or his father. Not far away, another tree with yellow fruit—pale this time—tempted him. This, he was certain must be poisonous. It looked dull—lackluster. Surely, it was not a safe thing.

  As darkness fell, he heard faint calls for him and hurried back the route he’d come, following the river to where it met the sand and along the shore to the bonfire. His father strolled out to meet him, thankfully, smiling. “Did you enjoy your explorations?”

  “Yes! I saw turtles, birds, another wild hog, and trees with fruit.”

  “You didn’t eat—”

  “No, but I remember where they are. I thought someone might know…”

  “Very good. The men found quite a few coconuts. We will have them for breakfast.”

  The memory of the stories he’d heard of the white-fleshed fruit reminded him of the strange plant he’d found. “Look, I found this too. I picked it before I thought. I’ll wash my hands, but…” Sebastian pulled out the fluffy bolls and passed them to his father.

  Nicolo called for Sam, a tall dark man with a strange accent and a fierce loyalty to the crew. “What is this? Is it cotton?”

  “Yah… It is the cotton. Very nice. Was there more?” The man’s deep rumbling voice belied the fierceness beneath it if the right situation occurred.

  “Quite a few plants scattered here and there. I didn’t go all that far, so there could be even more, I suppose…”

  “Hector should stay here. Grow cotton. He be rich.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  The crew chose to stay on land, sleeping in hammocks between trees, on the sand, or on beds of palm fronds. Each man made himself comfortable and relaxed in the glow of the great fire rings they built up and down the shore.

  Grunts from within the shrubs and trees unsettled some, but then Jaime began his story. He stood near the fire, leaning against a palm tree, and allowed his voice to fill the night air.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Legend: Part Six

  Calais was like a different world. Their children lived in small houses with few servants. They worked in counting rooms belonging to others. It bothered Joseph, but it was wise. Build a reputation. Keep an ear out for gossip about the locals. That gossip meant the difference between wealth and poverty in their business. His son, Asher, however, found himself in possession of a fledgling business in Italian wool. It seemed possible that over time the business would be very successful.

  “I’m not a good moneylender, Papa. You know this. I want to believe the best of people. You have to be a good judge of character, not just one who looks for good in a person’s character.”

  Asher was honest with himself. This was a good thing—wise. The other sons teased their brother about his lack of killer instinct, but Joseph heard the hints of respect in their voices. To know your limitations and work with them showed strength of character.

  The women, on the other hand, found Calais a wonderful place. They didn’t feel like second-class citizens in the Dutch-controlled city. Their lives were a little harder now, but they seemed not to notice. His Rebekah spent her days helping her daughters and daughters-in-law bake bread and train the granddaughters how to keep a home. The boys all went to school to learn the lessons they’d need for life in this new place.

  A few months into their new life, Aaron burst into their house late one evening, just before bed. “Papa Joseph! Did you hear?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Come in, Aaron. Would you like something to drink? Some bread? Have a seat.” This was his Rebekah’s way of reminding their young son-in-law that he should not burst into a house without knocking.

  “I am sorry, Mama Rebekah. The news is so terrible. Our friends, they are ruined.”

  “Ruined how? Joseph?” Rebekah’s question came as she sank into the chair, her hand seeking the star she often fondled while thinking or worried.

  “King Edward has issued a statute—Statute of the Jewry—they call it. He has disallowed all usury by Jews! Debts canceled, a tax on all Jews over twelve, and a yellow badge for those over seven. There is more, but it became hard to hear over the protests. Something about farmland and having to live in certain places.”

  “Mileon…” Joseph shook his head. With debts canceled, his friend would be financially devastated. “Are all debts canceled?”

  “I don’t think so, Papa Joseph. I think only the ones secured by land—the aristocracy. I am not sure though. I could not hear to ask questions.”

  “He will be ruined then, for certain. Mileon considered all debts secured by landed gentlemen, knights, or aristocracy to be the safest of loans.”

  “You were fortunate as to when you led us from there—like Moses almost. The ‘Egyptian army’ will not hurt us here, will it?”

  “No. We are safe—for now.”

  Eager to be the first to share the news with his wife and his brothers-in-law, Aaron bade them goodbye and hurried out into the night. The moment the door shut behind him, Rebekah spoke from the
chair where she sat with hands clutched around her star.

  “You knew. How did you know this was coming?”

  Joseph came and stood before her, his hands clasped behind his back and his long beard bobbing as he spoke. “Charles de Gyll heard something of it months ago. That is when I began making plans.”

  “Why did you not tell our friends! How could you do this to them? We sit here in this new place with our wealth intact—”

  “Intact!” Joseph roared, his hands gesticulating wildly. “Intact? We have come here with half what we would have had in ten years in England. Half! Our sons have come dependent upon that half when at home they earned their own money. This is financially devastating to us, and you say we came here wealthy?”

  “We can earn again. How will our friends earn without the means to do so? What do they know about farming or being merchants?”

  “Farming, I do not know, but as merchants, it is a similar business. Instead of selling money for more than you receive, you sell food, cloth, gold, or other goods for more than you paid. It is similar. They will learn.”

  “How?” Rebekah cried. “How will they learn when they have badges marking them as Jews? Will people buy from a Jew now? Will they live near them? Who will they sell to?”

  “You are angry then? Angry that I protected our family? Angry that I ensured we were out of there before worse occurred? Do you know what will come next? If this statute is not repealed within five years, then within thirty, Jews will be forced from England and probably France. Spain will follow. Anywhere the Catholic Church has political power, we will be driven from. My father saw it when I was just a boy. I saw it when more and more nobles found themselves in our debt. Only Charles de Gyll’s desperation saved us from finding out too late.”

  “‘It pays to have spies.’ How many times have I heard you say that?” Rebekah asked as tears ran down her face.

  “And we have seen it is true. We came out with half of what I would have left to my sons in my death. Our friends will have less than a tenth of what they are entitled to because of this thievery.”

  Rebekah stood and placed a hand on each side of his face. “You are a good man, Joseph. You are wise. I should not question, I know. It hurts though—hurts to think of our friends in such a state. If we could only have told them…”

  “Had we told, the King would have gotten wind of it. We would have lost more—if not everything.”

  Discouraged, she kissed his cheek and shuffled out of the room. Joseph watched her go, standing rigid until the door shut behind her. He dropped on to the bench at the table and mopped at the perspiration on his brow. His chest clenched, trying to draw out a cry of pain, but he refused. Again, he mopped his forehead, again the wave of pain returned, more intense this time than before. His hands clutched at his chest and his eyes squeezed shut, fighting back the pain that ripped through him.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Decisions

  At Trinidad, The Vengeance was met with hostility. They sailed completely around the island, stopping several times, but each time, the natives drove them back to the ship. Nicolo watched for signs of a settlement, but each bay, each potential port, every attempt to breach the beach failed. The men conferred in Nicolo’s cabin— Sebastian hiding at his listening post.

  Hector stood slightly behind the others— a visible and clearly deliberate choice to show deference and respect. Nicolo saw it and appreciated the change in the man. “What do you think, Hector? Do you have a preference? Should we try to follow this line of islands, or do you want to go over here— maybe to Venezuela?”

  “I don’t know. Is there a reason to choose one or the other?”

  A slow smile crept over Jaime’s face as he listened. “Other than being a target of pirates on those islands, not a thing.”

  “Now, Jaime. Pirates will be a problem here soon no matter where it is. If they export, then there will be someone here to take the spoils. That is how it works.”

  “So, you think Venezuela?” Eduardo sounded unsure. “I don’t know. I thought Trinidad would be settled by now. There’s Santiago. I think I’d want to go there.”

  “Chile?” Nicolo shook his head. “We will not sail so far south unless forced. What about Caracas?”

  “That is a small settlement, but it might have the potential for a good enterprise.

  Nicolo turned to Hector, smiling. “You could build a plantation—grow whatever it is that they grow there—and become a wealthy man.”

  “He is already a wealthy man.”

  “Yes, well now he will be a much more wealthy man than ever,” Nicolo persisted, glaring at Eduardo.

  Hector cleared his throat before speaking. “I think Caracas sounds good. If not there, it seems there are other potential settlements here and here,” he pointed to places on the map, including the island of Aruba. “Here or Curacao surely will have something if Caracas does not work.” Though his hands twisted his shirttail into knots, he spoke up hesitatingly. “You have already risked much for me—suffered much. Men died to get me here and to provide me with the means to live. I think it best you be rid of me as soon as possible.”

  Humility became Hector; though something none of them expected, he wore it well and honestly. The others exchanged glances and then Jaime nodded. “We’ll find a safe place for you. We promised when we took you on.” He glanced around at the others for support before he continued, “You forget that this is what we do. Remember, we’ve all bound together for this purpose.”

  “Well, and the purpose of filling our own purses,” Nicolo interjected. “Why don’t you go take over in the crow’s nest, and we’ll make our plans. We will want to be sure to leave you some place where you can be protected from injustice.”

  The moment the door Hector shut the door, Eduardo shook his head. “That is the coward who we found shivering in the hold after the storm. We’ve made a man of him.”

  Jaime pointed to the map. “I think Cartagena. I’ve heard it is well fortified now. It seems like a safe place. No one will have heard of Hector Castillo there. He’s a wealthy man in Spain—or was. He’ll be considered an adventurer who paid some rogues to take him across the ocean.”

  It would take weeks now. They’d have to stop along the way to replenish supplies. Then again, they could use the opportunity to learn the area, to get a feel for how the seas were different. Nicolo sent Eduardo to the wheel. “Let’s make for Caracas first—get supplies. It is some two hundred leagues, but we’ll make it.”

  Left alone in the cabin, Nicolo stared at the maps, wondering at their accuracy and if he’d made the right decision to try for Cartagena. How cruel it would be to rescue a man from torture only to send him somewhere to be imprisoned all over again. They must appear respectable in ports—for a while. They would buy food and other supplies—behave as respectable men.

  A knock came and Sebastian’s head peeked through the doorway. “May I come in, Papa?”

  “Yes, and how did you like our conversation?” The comical look of shock and dismay amused Nicolo greatly.

  “I—that is how—but w—”

  “Fathers know more than their sons think and less than they will ever admit.”

  “I just was curious about him. He sounded sorry for his bad behavior.” Sebastian’s toe dug at a knot in the wood. “Actually, I thought he sounded like me when I have been disrespectful and wish to apologize.”

  “He is sincere, yes. It doesn’t change my opinion of his courage, but he might have a chance to correct that as well.”

  “What is Cartagena like?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been there—never seen it. We might be unknown here.”

  The moment he spoke, Nicolo regretted it. The hopeful look on his son’s face told him the true purpose of the visit. Sebastian wanted to start a new life there too—one on land.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  His father spoke the words Sebastian had hoped to hear. “We might be unknown here.” If they were unknown
, there would be no one ready to hang them for piracy. A new life waited for them—waited for them to seize and hold fast to it. Why should they not begin that in a place like Cartagena rather than on their familiar ship in unfamiliar waters?

  “Maybe—” The fierce look on his father’s face made him pause, but Sebastian overcame his fear and tried again. “Maybe we could try a new life there or even on the island where we first landed—Barbados. We could go back there. It would be different, but…”

  “I know you do not like the sea or my—” Nicolo choked over his next word, “profession. I understand your desire for a new life. In fact, Many of my boyhood friends dreamed of going to sea for their entire lives. Why should not a seafaring boy yearn for land?” His father bent to meet his eyes. “But it cannot be, Sebastian. Pining for what I cannot give you only hurts yourself and—”

  “I am sorry, Papa.” Despite his disappointment, Sebastian could not help the pleasure of realizing that no longer did his father have to hunker down on his heels for their eyes to meet. And, though it pained him to admit it to himself, his father did seem to try to understand his distaste for all the ship’s crew did. Of course, the great pirate Nicolo Soranzo could not possibly understand it fully; he thought it a matter of change of scenery. But that he tried to understand did help.

  “What do we do, Sebastian? On this ship, what do we do?”

  The question confused him. What kind of question was it? “We… well, we live.”

  “But why here instead of in Italy or Spain.”

  “You don’t like Spain, Papa.”

  “Ok, this is true. Why do we live on sea instead of land?”

  “To protect us from El Cazador?”

  “Yes, that is part of it. Why as pirates though? Why not as legitimate merchants or adventurers?”

  The answer to that question Sebastian had never understood. The revulsion he felt for the theft and bloodshed made him fear the reasons for it all. He’d never asked, the answer being more than he desired to know. “I don’t know, Papa.”