Scraped close to the metal, the guns became easier to move. Poles rolled them across the fire beds until tar flamed. Then the barrels were wiped and the bore plugs were tugged on. After many tries a plug pulled free. Amid cheers labor concentrated on the other cannon while two men worked the first gunlock free of the bore tar.
Through it all Jonas worried. Black smoke rose high, seeming to announce their presence to most of the Florida peninsula. To be forced away now could lose them the guns forever.
A mile away, Feather reached easily across the wind, able to flee but incapable of fighting, little help could come from there.
A musket fired from the ship could give warning. If attacked, Jonas planned to dump the cannon into the water where they might escape detection. No other course seemed practical.
They worked on, the fires doused, swabbing at the last traces of tar until the rifled bores gleamed. Feather was signaled in and the cannon were muscled aboard. With vast relief Hawk again put the land behind them.
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How fine the bronze cannon looked. Trunnions clamped to the sliding carriages built in the Van Doon yard, the guns appeared ready to fire.
Drawn back for loading, each gun was trundled forward to fire. The ship's course determined direction and range was cranked in at the gun.
Jonas' memory of four inch bores had been correct and their cast iron balls fit tightly when patched with sail canvas.
Finday's first shots used weak powder charges as he felt his way to loadings that would be safe, accurate, and powerful.
Even the first efforts roused enthusiasm. Standing at ship's center, the helmsman could align either bow or stern cannon with astonishing accuracy. After adjusting an approximate range, Finday fired on the ship's rise or fall.
The cannon cracked like the oversized rifles they were and trajectories were flat. Finday whistled in awe as he shattered a barrel almost beyond seeing.
His words suited their thoughts and Jonas Hawk acted on them.
Finday said, "We're as ready as we'll ever be, Captain. It's time we quit dodging around the Gulf. Let's turn north and gather in Gaspar's gold.
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Near midnight Feather's longboat touched Cayo Costa Island for what Jonas hoped was the last time. A mile offshore their ship waited.
Hawk's plan was simple. A crew of eight men would land the longboat as close as possible to the pirate village. With Hawk scouting, Feather's men would move close. Silent as mice they would uproot the treasure, load it on already prepared stretchers and escape to the longboat, thence to their ship, and finally deep into the Gulf.
Would the gold carriers need more than a single round trip? Would they find anything at all? So much could have changed. Anxiety twisted and Jonas forced himself to move slowly with extra caution, lest unannounced worries create errors.
While his eight waited, Hawk climbed to his old lookout. Wood smoke had already tickled nostrils so he knew men still lived here. Starlight and a cloudless sky allowed long viewing. For their intentions, he would have preferred a black night that could hide movement but a bright sky also held advantage. They should stumble less and move more surely. Also, he might judge their enemy's presence more accurately.
Two sailing vessels lay at anchor in Pelican Cove but Hawk could not tell their rig or armament. Neither was large enough to be Gaspar's unnamed brigantine.
A single fire showed red coals within the village, which appeared little changed from Hawk's last visit. The great house slept without sign of occupancy. Most important, Gaspar's privy sat where it always had. Did the pirate's booty wait as well?
Someone hawked noisily among the huts and movement shifted the gloom as a man appeared and relieved himself onto the ground. Jonas heard him snort and shuffle his feet while looking across the still harbor. A female voice complained as the pirate reentered his shack. Then all was again quiet. Sounds traveled far on such a still night. Hawk's men would need to exercise great caution.
With the others waiting within the jungle's protection, Jonas and Finday slipped into the privy. The stink was as Hawk remembered and he sensed his mate's repugnance as they knelt and began shifting sand.
It seemed to Jonas that he had dug too deep. Tension ached his jaws as he forced his fingers deeper, still striking nothing. Then Finday's elbow touched his and the mate's soft hiss told that something had been found. Jonas poked in Finday's digging and struck the hard of a wooden plank. They clawed together, breath coming short with excitement.
A shovel could have reduced their effort but Hawk had rejected the possibility of noise. Before, he had successfully opened and closed Gaspar's cache; he and Finday could do it easier. Still it seemed long before the first plank was laid aside and they could reach into the hole itself.
Hawk's hand barely entered. His fingers touched the remembered shape of a bag and he felt the shift of coins beneath his touch.
Surely the hole held more than it had before. Jonas was aware of his heart thumping madly and he felt a tremble where Finday's arm touched his own.
As swiftly as they could, captain and mate opened the hoard for swift removal. When he judged it right, Jonas left Finday to finish and went for his stretcher men.
Instinctively, Jonas listened to the night, finding it quiet and right. He judged the wind still mild and out of the west. He wished for an easterly to drift them away as they had on the cannon night. A lee shore was never safe but, with Feather's shallow draft, they could sail south atop the shoals, across the wind, and gradually increase their offing until land disappeared.
Stripped to pantaloons, armed only with knives, Hawk's men could move quietly. If all went awry their plan was to disperse and swim into the Gulf where Feather could recover them.
The eight carriers bore a pair of ruggedly constructed stretchers made of strong poles with canvas layered between. Supported by four brawny shoulders, each stretcher could swiftly move a heavy load.
Almost soundlessly Hawk's men reached the privy. Kneeling in line, stretchers positioned, they waited only Hawk's signal. Coins clunked softly as the first bag went hand to hand. Others followed rapidly and the sound became a steady stream as the treasure was heaved from its bed.
Jonas oversaw the positioning on the first stretcher, judging its weight and determining when it was enough. Four carriers grasped corners and heaved the load onto shoulders. A man staggered slightly and cursed under his breath. Then they were gone into the jungle. To Jonas, their passage sounded thunderous but Finday was still working and a second load was rapidly building.
The second pallet had not been filled when the bags stopped coming. Jonas knew the reason. Finday had emptied Gaspar's top layer. Hawk clambered past his waiting men and joined Finday at the hole. Again they dug at the sand, tossing it aside more carelessly, anxious to get at what lay beneath.
The deeper treasure had been long hidden and progress slowed. Bags split and rotted boxes came apart in their hands. The second load was a disorganized jumble, but it was heavy and there was more to go.
For a moment Finday and Jonas paused, sweat stinging their eyes and fingers raw from clawing. Both were panting and Jonas wondered how many pounds of gold they had moved. His men were strong, yet four had struggled beneath each load. Jonas grinned in the dark. One thing was certain; Jose Gaspar was poorer than he had been.
A third pallet left for the longboat and Jonas Hawk knew they had exceeded his finest hopes. His hands touched Finday's as they gleaned even the gleanings, gleanings that alone would have salvaged the venture. The fourth stretcher was only lightly loaded and the other carriers waited at the beach with the longboat poised.
Jonas' hand was moving to Finday's shoulder to announce withdrawal when a voice shouted unintelligibly but so close that Finday nearly toppled into the hole.
Though equally startled, Jonas made his feet and into the open beyond the privy. From where they crouched, his men's faces stared upward at him and, in the same instant, the shout was repeated in an even lou
der screeching bellow.
Hawk recognized the shrieker. Gaspar's old retainer had risen for a night calling to find strangers crouched around his privy.
Jonas almost grinned with the thought of the ancient's astonishment and certain confusion over a privy raid. But, the horrendous shrieks would rouse pirates like a kicked ant hill. Hawk urged his men erect. They snatched their final haul off the ground and hustled for the longboat.
Answering bellows came from the village and, bringing up the rear. Hawk and Finday saw figures moving. The fire flared as oil or fat was dumped on it. They delayed no longer and fled along their newly pounded path to the waiting longboat.
Finday was laughing as he ran and Jonas felt the same elation. The pirates had no chance. Confusion would rule in the village with conflicting guesses and opposing plans. Once it was discovered that treasure had lam in the privy and that it was being spirited away, the mob would howl in pursuit. They were too late. Hawk and his men reached the beach, dumped the last gold aboard, and shoved the already floating longboat into deeper water.
Oars were manned and Jonas took the tiller. As heavy as a stone barge, the longboat plowed the water.
So weighted by gold that her freeboard was only inches, the longboat struggled across the shoals to the waiting Feather.
A sweating oarsman suggested they all spit to lighten ship. Another suggested it would help if the mate swam out.
Only half joking Jonas said, "Be quiet and row carefully. We're so overloaded that if a mullet jumps it might swamp us."
Men chuckled and dreamed as they rowed. They brought life to their wildest imaginings. Gold! Gold to purchase ships, to buy cargoes, to satisfy wives and please children. Gold to grant position and comforts.
As pleased as any, Jonas Hawk steered for the dim silhouette of his ship. He too had plans but, not for the last time, he wondered why Jose Gaspar, with such an immense fortune, would keep it buried in the ground and murder for more?
Hawk supposed he would never know.
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Chapter 15
The longboat thumped Feather's side. Rather than risk their precious load to davits, the crew began handing gold bags aboard.
Jonas and Finday left them to it. First light was near and until Feather was well beyond reach of pirate boats, Jonas would not feel secure. Their lookout reported a few torches along the beach that had quickly withdrawn. The pirates might drag small boats across the narrow island or they might attempt to row out the pass and swing down on their enemy.
Hawk doubted either attempt. Until light grew, pirates could not know what sort of vessel they faced. Jonas expected that caution would slow the freebooters, but Feather would not loiter.
With most of the gold hurled aboard, he ordered the longboat hoisted inboard, the anchor raised, and a southerly course set. Water rippled at Feather's forefoot and, on Jonas' order, the helmsman edged into the wind, leaving the shore further alee.
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"Sail Ho!"
Jonas' gut knotted.
Finday said, "Damnation!" just as Mathew Covert had.
A number of hands leaped to starboard ratlines, staring into the still darkened Gulf. The masthead lookout's pointing arm aimed into the Gulf, to the west, directly into the wind.
Jonas too leaped onto the rail. For a long moment he saw nothing. Then, with light rising swiftly, he caught the flash of sails. Square sails, he thought, and not too far out. When the sun broke above the island they would see better.
Finday said, "If they've been looking, they'll have seen us against the light, Jonas."
"They will have been looking. Off a shore like this they couldn't be careless. Question is, will they come after us? With our cargo, we don't heave to for anyone."
The men of Feather waited in silence. All worried because the strange sail had them in a pocket. She could ride the wind down on them and Feather could not slip by. Feather would be forced to run close under the stranger's guns to avoid being trapped against the land.
Telescope in hand, Jonas climbed the rigging. After the sun rose he snapped the instrument shut and dropped to the deck. Finday and most of the crew gathered.
"No question that she's running down to us. She's angling a little. If we keep on we'll meet somewhere south of Redfish Pass. The shallows will force us out down there and he'll be waiting."
"Maybe he isn't a pirate, Captain." The seaman who spoke, wished for them all, but Hawk ended that hope.
"The ship is a brigantine. Same one I saw when I was on the island. More than likely it's Gaspar coming home," Hawk smiled, his features staying grim. "Glad he doesn't know that we've plucked his gold. Things will be hard as is."
Finday broke in, "He'll know pretty quickly, Captain." He pointed to a log sailing canoe driving swiftly from Boca Grande Pass behind them. "That thing isn't out here to engage us."
"What we need is a lot of wind."
"Couldn't do any good. He's got the weather gauge of us. We go faster, so does he. Result will be about the same."
Jonas had stepped aside, letting the chatter run on. The arrival of Gaspar was unfortunate but, he had weighed such chances. Feather had been built for this kind of game. Now she would prove her worth.
Hawk returned to the steering position. "Mr. Finday, everyone, gather close." He waved in all but the helmsman and the masthead lookout.
"You see the situation. We can't outrun her and she has cannon aboard. Feather is not built to weather broadsides." The men agreed with nods and grunts.
"We couldn't spin around and go north. We would ground on Boca Shoals. They run out for a mile off the north tip of Cayo Costa Island." There was no disagreement.
"On the other hand, we have our shallow draft. Gaspar's ship cannot dare these shoals that we are running. We might lay close in and expect a wind change that could sweep us by them, but . . . "
A crewman put in, "The other pirates would likely come out on us. Captain."
Hawk nodded, "Agreed," and continued. "Anyway, there is a better plan."
"Just below us is Captiva Pass. We've been there before and we know we can edge through.
"Gaspar cannot follow. Once inside we will turn south. Gaspar will post a masthead lookout and watch our sails across the island, but . . . ". Again Jonas was interrupted.
This time it was Finday. "We'll have other troubles, Captain. That's thin water inside the islands. Sounds like that are always shallow with bars raising up everywhere."
"Correct, Mr. Finday. We'll go slowly and we'll sail carefully. When the tide is falling we'll be most cautious. If we touch—and we probably will—it'll be lightly so we can pole her off. If we strand, they could come over for us and we'd be easy plucking.
"But, we've another problem as well." A few men frowned, not understanding, and Finday filled in.
"That'll be those island pirates coming down inside with all they've got."
"Right again, Finday. By now they've figured that Gaspar has us on a hook. They will sail south on the inside of the islands in hope of being in on the finish. If we come through the pass too late they'll be on us like ducks on a bug."
Finday began to laugh and a few men joined in. Jonas grinned, his face cracking wide, displaying his youth to his older crew.
"Now, Finday, are you really that sure?"
Finday said, "Captain Hawk, if that rifled gun at our stern doesn't blow up. I'm planning on sinking pirates till the sun goes down."
Men laughed aloud, slapping each other, imagining the consternation among the pirates when Finday's swift and accurate cannon balls began smashing through them.
Jonas subdued them. "All right, I hope we sink them all. I owe them for the Ruth Covert and some of her good men. But, night will come. Then men, then we must turn clever. Gaspar will hunt us. He must, for we have all that he has lived for these many years. With his gold he could dream and plan. Without it, he is doomed to continue until he overmatches and swings from a yard or is left for the sharks."
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Jonas held his southern course until Captiva Pass lay abaft his port beam. Then the helm was laid over and the sails boomed out with preventers guarding against jibes.
Into the shallow pass she went, a pair of leadsmen alternately calling the depth. Jonas and Finday applied their best guesses and, although the bottom drew overly close, Feather slid through, into a miles wide sound where fish leaped and oyster bars poked randomly at the water's surface. It was a frighteningly shallow bay, gouged by patternless channels and barred by equally inexplicable banks and shoals.
The bay would also be an island pirate's escape route if attacked from the sea. Familiar with the treacherous waters, he could flee swiftly while his attackers fumbled among dead-end channels.
This time, Jonas said, "Damnation!"
Finday shrugged, "About as I expected, Captain. We'd best work down the middle. If it gets bad, we'll put the longboat out ahead to mark us a course."
Finday pointed off their ship's stern. "And here they come, Jonas." He did not wait for acknowledgements but headed for his stern cannon, calling his own crew to action.
Pirate boats were appearing between Cabbage Key and Useppa, an island of higher land. It appeared to Jonas that the entire pirate community must have joined in the chase. He counted nearly a dozen rowed boats and the pair of flat-bottomed sailing craft he had seen anchored in Pelican Cove. But Finday was preparing his gun. Water depth was holding and, amid the squeal of rigging, crewmen brought the booms in and Feather again swung south, down the sound, with her stern pointing directly toward the onrushing pirates.
In the protected waters, the wind was not as steady as it had been in the Gulf. Feather's speed dropped and Jonas supposed that if they could close quickly, the rowing boats might overwhelm his ship. Finday would discourage that threat, Jonas hoped.
But this was real. If overtaken, men aboard Feather would die and the ship with its golden hoard would be lost. Jonas could wish they had begun their gold digging a pair of hours earlier. They would then have been ahead of Caspar's approach. It was useless to curse the Fates. Now they would fight and Hawk hoped Finday could keep it at long range. Feather's small crew would stand no chance against multiple boardings.
Hawk's Feather (Perry County Frontier Series) Page 11
