Captured in the Caribbean

by Sara Whitford

  Something in Adam snapped. He had heard just about enough of that word thrown around. He stood from his chair so forcefully it fell backwards.

  “I’m done here,” said Adam. “You’ve seen the will. The estate will be yours. Now just leave us all alone and stay out of our lives. You are nothing to me.”

  Eduardo did not respond.

  Adam looked at Martin and Drake. “You ready?”

  He left the office and the residence, and his friends were right behind him. As soon as he got out into the street, the others were waiting there and accompanied Adam and Martin back to Plaza Vieja for something to eat before deciding on their next move.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  AFTER THEY LEFT EDUARDO’S, DRAKE went back home, and Martin went out to have a drink with a couple of other shipmates from the Gypsy.

  Adam wasn’t up for socializing, though. He decided to head on back to the ship so he could try to make sense of everything that had happened. He wanted to feel confident that Eduardo would no longer be a problem, but the truth was he wasn’t sure. On one hand, the man could have been just blustering when he said he might not want to wait for Santiago to die. On the other hand, he had already proven himself to be completely irrational and ready to do just about anything to make sure he secured the family’s estate for his sons. The only thing that gave Adam any consolation was knowing that Eduardo had heretofore been restrained by at least some small thread of conscience when it came to actually killing any of his Velasquez family members.

  There was one thing that he knew now with certainty, though: Santiago truly had made every decision of the last eighteen years in a calculated effort to protect his wife and child. He was willing to do whatever it took to keep Eduardo out of their lives. Adam hated that he had grown up without a father, but he understood now, as unfair as it seemed, why things had to be the way they were.

  As soon as he ascended the ramp up on to the Gypsy, he saw Captain Phillips on the quarterdeck with Charlie, sea charts spread out, plotting the navigation course for the return trip.

  Adam knew right away what that meant. It was time for them to go back home.

  “Good afternoon, Captain.”

  “Good day to you, Mr. Fletcher.”

  Adam walked over to where the two men stood and briefly studied the charts, although he still wasn’t very clear on how to read them. “I reckon this means we’ll be leaving soon?”

  “Yes, we will,” said the captain. He turned to speak more directly with Adam. “Now listen, I don’t make it a habit of explainin decisions to crew members, but given the circumstances—and this bein your first time on a voyage like this—I feel I might ought to explain.”

  Adam humbly narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “No, sir. I understand. There’s no need to explain.”

  But Captain Phillips seemed determined to explain anyway. “You realize we’re already real behind. The repairs are done now, and I hate to tell you this, but I think there’s some real rough weather that’s headed this way. We need to move on out of here and stay ahead of what’s comin, or we may not make it back at all.”

  Adam nodded. The whole situation felt awkward. To know that he had at least some part in causing a whole ship and her crew to be delayed in port for a few days embarrassed him. Sure, there were repairs that needed to be made, but those were done a day ago—and they might have been done even earlier if Martin and the others hadn’t gotten sidetracked with that whole ransom and kidnapping business.

  “We’ll be leaving at daybreak, Mr. Fletcher.”

  Adam nodded once more and excused himself to go below deck to rest in his berth and ponder the captain’s news.

  It was not really unexpected, but it left Adam feeling anxious nevertheless. The truth was, part of him felt like he should stay, given his father’s condition, but every time he thought about the Gypsy returning to Beaufort without him on it and what that would do to his mother, especially considering the history with his father, he knew he had no choice but to resign himself to the captain’s decision. He consoled himself by remembering there was nothing he could do about Eduardo, considering he was the law. Who could he go to with his concerns about threats to his father’s safety? He reminded himself there was nothing that could be done about the estate situation or his father’s seemingly deteriorating state of health. Maybe it was all for the best, he thought. At least this takes the decision out of my hands.

  Since it was still relatively early in the day, Adam knew he should probably head on back to his father’s estate so he could let them know he would be leaving. He prayed his father wouldn’t be any worse.

  When he told Captain Phillips that he planned to go see his family before he left, the captain told him to wait for Martin or somebody else to go with him. Fortunately, Martin and the others got back within the hour. Apparently, they had only had one round of drinks at El Trobador before returning to the vessel. If they had known they’d set sail the next morning, they’d have surely stayed a while longer.

  As soon as Adam heard their voices on the main deck, he went up to talk to Martin.

  “I need to go back to the estate for a little while. Cap’n says he doesn’t want me to go without somebody, so will you go?”

  Martin scratched at his sandy curls as he thought about his answer. “Did he say I had to go with you? ’Cause I’m gonna tell you right now I’m worn slam out. And to tell you the truth, I really just don’t feel like it. I don’t think I can take any more of your Velasquez family madness today.”

  “Very funny,” Adam said. “Just come with me, alright? What if something happens to me and here we are about to leave? Mr. Rogers will have your tail.”

  Martin gave a sideways glance and sighed. “Fine.”

  The two descended the ramp off the vessel and headed back into the city. Adam noticed Martin was in a foul mood. That was unusual enough as it was, because he usually had a relaxed and joking personality, but it was even more unusual because he had been drinking, and that was typically a surefire way to lift his spirits.

  “What’s wrong with you, anyway?” Adam asked. “You act like something’s got you all riled up.”

  Martin exhaled sharply but didn’t say anything.

  “You don’t look like you been in a fight. The only time I ever see you acting like this is either if you’ve been fighting or if it’s about a girl.”

  Martin narrowed his eyes at Adam in an irritated look.

  Adam gave him a tense, knowing smile. “Ahh . . . It is about a girl. What did you do?”

  “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Martin spat. “First you figure it’s about a girl. Next you’re figurin it’s something I did. You’re really some friend, you know that?” he said as he sped up and walked ahead.

  Adam picked up his pace to catch up with him. “So it wasn’t about a girl?”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Martin. “Stop trying to guess at things you don’t know anything about!”

  “Oh.” Adam decided not to push the matter any further. Whatever it was, it had Martin angrier than he’d ever seen him.

  They continued walking for a few minutes in complete silence. As they walked down the street where the estate was located, Martin started volunteering information. “Yes, it was a girl. In fact, it was the girl—the one from the other night.”

  “What happened?”

  “Turns out that little strumpet was working for Eduardo.”

  Adam’s eyes widened. “What? How did you find this out?”

  “Ahh.” Martin waved his hand dismissively. “Jones admitted it to me when we were all drinking. He said he had heard Eduardo tell her in Spanish to show you a good time and keep you at her place as long as she could.”

  “When and how would Jones have heard all of that?”

  “Don’t you remember? When we all sat down and then Eduardo came in, he said something to her in Spanish. I didn’t understand what it was, but I reckon he was telli
ng her to do this thing and he’d pay her the next day. That’s why she didn’t make me pay her—and here I thought she just liked me.”

  “And you’re angry about this?” Adam asked. “You’re actually angry about this?”

  “Damn right I’m angry,” said Martin.

  Adam could guess why, but he decided to ask him anyway—for fun. “Why would you be angry?”

  Martin looked at Adam as though he would have to be an idiot for asking such a question. After a moment Adam elbowed him in the side so that he’d realize he was just joking around, trying to lighten up the situation.

  The gates of the estate were coming into view.

  Adam said, “So I reckon when Eduardo overheard me telling you to meet me the next morning, he must’ve decided then to pay that prostitute to keep you busy so it would either keep me from going off in search of Alonso Cordova, or else it would’ve meant I’d likely be waiting for you there alone, and it would make me an easy mark for Hector.”

  “And I fell for it all the way,” said an exasperated Martin.

  “Well, that part is behind us now. Maybe it’ll teach you something about trifling with prostitutes.”

  WHEN THEY ARRIVED AT THE gate to the Velasquez estate, they were immediately permitted entrance by Felipe and shown right inside. The servant who answered the door to the main house went in to let Señora Isabel know that Adam had arrived, but she did not come out to greet him. Instead, the servant took Adam straight to his father’s room upstairs. Martin was instructed to wait in the foyer.

  In the harsh light of day that was streaming through the window, Adam could see Santiago was wasting away. Without the ability to eat or drink, he looked haggard, as though his body were feasting upon itself. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want me to see him like this, Adam thought. Even the night before, the light of the moon softened the harshness of Santiago’s weakened appearance. He was but a shadow now of the strong and handsome young captain who had given Adam that sack of candy and fireworks at Laney Martin’s dock.

  Adam sat in the chair next to the bed, then bowed his head and prayed over his father. He tried to speak to him, but Santiago did not respond. After a few more minutes Adam wondered if his father’s spirit hadn’t already gone. It was as though the body lying there in the bed was little more than a shell.

  Finally, he stood from his chair and leaned over and brushed the long, wavy hair away from his father’s forehead and planted a kiss there one last time. “I’m leaving soon. I just want to tell you that I love you,” he whispered. “And I’ll always remember you.”

  He observed his father for another moment or two, just to see if there might be any sort of response, but there was none. He knew it was time to leave.

  Just as he opened the door, a figure was blocking the doorway. It took him a couple of seconds to register that it was Eduardo.

  Adam froze. He made the almost instantaneous decision that he would not move from the doorway to let Eduardo through.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “No, even more to the point—who let you in?”

  “Do you think the servants here do not do exactly as I say? They know enough to fear me. Now move yourself, chico!”

  He tried to push past the muscular young man. When Adam stood his ground and refused to move, Eduardo quickly pulled out a pistol from his belt and held it in Adam’s face.

  “I said move, or I will blow off your head.”

  Adam knew better than to argue with a gun. Before he stepped aside, though, he said to Eduardo, “If you came here to kill your nephew, I think you’ll find you’re probably already too late.”

  He took a couple of steps back to let Eduardo come in, and watched as he rushed over to the side of his father’s bed, pistol still in hand.

  Eduardo looked as if he was examining Santiago. He watched his body to see if there was any movement. He lowered his head over Santiago’s chest to listen for a heartbeat and held his fingers under Santiago’s nose, presumably so he could try and determine whether he was breathing. Finally, he whipped his head around and glared at Adam.

  “I told you. You’re too late,” Adam said. “You won’t get the privilege of taking his life. Now your sons will get their precious estate, and maybe you can leave us all alone.”

  “No.” Eduardo crossed the room to stand about a foot away from Adam. “No, I do not think you understand. Isabel still lives.” He flipped out his hand with the pistol in it and turned it again towards Adam, this time loosely pointed at his chest. “And most unfortunately, you still live.”

  “So what? Are you going to kill both of us?” Adam asked.

  Eduardo shook his head. “No, it is not necessary. If you are dead, she has no heir. You must understand, my nephew never received Isabel’s part of the Velasquez properties, and so his will is worthless. He cannot give to me something that he does not possess. So as it stands, you would naturally inherit everything when Isabel dies.”

  “And I have already told you there is nothing here that I want. Nothing. Why can’t you seem to get that through your thick, stupid skull?”

  Adam realized after the words left his mouth that he probably shouldn’t be throwing insults at an armed man intent on seeing him dead, and yet he couldn’t help himself. And he didn’t regret saying what he had. In fact, there was more he wanted to say, but Eduardo’s response came too quickly.

  “You are the stupid one.” He stepped forward, pistol in hand, leaving Adam no choice but to back up. “You are nothing but a worthless English apprentice from a worthless little American colony—the son of a worthless barmaid. You are not even intelligent enough to understand what it would have meant to you to be a part of this family.”

  Adam realized Eduardo was backing him right up to the side of his father’s bed. He thought about how useless his little pocketknife was in the current circumstances and tried to calculate an exit from the situation, since he knew Eduardo’s goal was to end his life. He also thought about Isabel. What would Eduardo do to her?

  “Let me ask you a question,” Adam said. “Why did you bring a pistol? Isn’t that a little more than necessary, considering the circumstances? Why not just use a knife? Or even just strangle him? Afraid of getting your hands too dirty? Or maybe you don’t know that you could go through with it or finish the job.”

  Eduardo continued to wave the pistol around in Adam’s face. “You talk like you are such a brave boy. If you even knew what a fortune you were losing, you would not be standing here so calm as you are. You would be devastated to lose such a treasure. You are not even smart enough to be upset about the fact that I am going to take your life.”

  Adam shook his head. “Now see there. You’ve got it all wrong.”

  Eduardo flashed a smug smile at Adam, as though he expected the boy to start begging for his life or something.

  He was wrong. Adam smiled back and said, “You’re not going to take my life. You don’t have that power.”

  Eduardo’s face twitched as Adam continued: “See, what you’re after—it’s fool’s gold. It’s like that dew on the grass in the morning. Oh, it sparkles a little while to be sure, but as soon as the sun starts shining on it, it all dries right up. You place money and property above everything—above family, even above God Almighty. You know that puts you in a precarious spot . . . and it’s sad, really.” Adam figured there was no reason to stop now. He might as well say what he was thinking until the man pulled the trigger. “Didn’t anybody ever teach you that the love of money is the root of all evil? If you fire that pistol and kill me, you’ll only accomplish two things: helping me get to Heaven quicker, and securing your own place in Hell.”

  Just then Eduardo cocked the pistol and was about to fire, but before he could, Adam grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand back. They wrestled for a few seconds, and then Eduardo fired the pistol. Much to Adam’s surprise, the man collapsed on top of him.

  At first, Adam couldn’t tell if the p
istol had misfired and injured Eduardo, or if the lead ball had somehow gone past him into the mattress. When he looked over Eduardo’s slumped body, he saw there was a knife in his back, and Isabel was standing right behind him.

  Adam carefully pushed Eduardo off of him, and he wrapped his arms around Isabel. She began to sob against his shoulder.

  “Shh . . .” Adam hugged her with one arm and stroked the back of her head with the other. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Shh . . .”

  At first, she was muttering something in Spanish frantically and through tears, and then she appeared to remember that Adam couldn’t understand Spanish.

  “He was about to kill you,” she said. She looked to Adam as if she was trying very hard to be strong and regain her composure. “I could not let him kill my grandson. And look!” She motioned at Santiago in the bed. “Do you see? Is my son already dead?”

  Adam looked back at his father and then let go of Isabel so he could lean down and check on him again.

  “Not quite,” he told her. “I know he seems very close—close enough that Eduardo was fooled—but he has been doing this ever since I got here. His breathing is very shallow; then it seems to stop; then it’s very shallow again.”

  “I need to send for the priest, then,” said Isabel.

  She wept as she left the room. Adam followed close behind her, and as they neared the stairs, Martin and the shorter of the two Spanish servants who had gone to the Gypsy to get Adam the night before were running up to meet them.

  “What the hell happened?” asked Martin. “We heard a shot.” He looked at Adam and Isabel, then tried to look past them down the hall.

  “It was Eduardo. He showed up out of nowhere,” said Adam. “He was about to kill me, but my abuela here stopped him before he could. She saved my life.”

  Isabel paid no attention to Adam or Martin but instead told her servant something in Spanish, to which he immediately responded, “Claro, señora. Venga conmigo.” He held out his arm for her to steady herself and escorted her down the stairs.