“If necessary. I want to return to port, alive.”
“We will not haul your carcass back.” Striker grinned. “So if you wish to see Port Royal again, you will be alive when doing it. There is no need to stipulate such a thing.”
We stayed quiet and rested as we could until dusk, at which time we made our way along the shore to the port. It was a small horseshoe of beach with a single wharf. The flyboats were the largest craft in residence. The gallows were across the small bay from where we lay in the sand. They were clearly visible from sea or land, as the Spanish, like the English and every other nation, adore trying to scare pirates and smugglers with gruesome examples of the local justice.
Striker, of course, studied the entirety of the area. Those of us who knew of their contents could clearly see when he came across the gallows, as his body grew taut.
Pete sighed, “ItBeThem.”
Gaston was studying the gallows as well. “They died fighting. Judging by the wounds, some of those bodies were hung after they were dead.”
“Were they there this morning?” Striker asked from what seemed a great distance.
“Aye,” Pete sighed.
“We were up there.” Gaston pointed along the hill to the South. “And from the angle and distance, it was difficult to discern.”
“But you suspected,” Striker said.
“Aye,” Pete sighed. “IWantedYaTaSleep. NothinWeCanDo. Let’sGetABoat.”
“I will not slink out of here,” Striker said with conviction.
I thought it ill-advised to mention that we had killed or been responsible for the deaths of a good five hundred Spaniards within the last two days; yet, I felt compelled to say something, and quoted Gaston.
“Revenge is of little value if you are dead. We do not know how they were taken. It is entirely possible that this small town is overrun with competent Spaniards.”
“That will be the day,” Striker snapped. “I have never understood how they conquered the Indians.”
“That was over a hundred and fifty years ago,” I sighed. “They were better then.”
“I want to hurt them, Will.”
I looked across the bay.
“I agree,” I said quietly. “People should be hurt. It solves nothing, but it will at least let them know that hanging our brethren in such a fashion will not protect them or scare us away.”
“Not you, too,” Gaston whispered in French.
“What is a centaur to do?”
He rolled his eyes.
As one, the four of us turned to regard the small town at the back of the bay.
“Fire,” Pete cackled. “BurnItAll.”
“Damn it Pete,” Striker teased. “You’re supposed to pillage before you burn.” Then he regarded Gaston seriously. “Does anyone else know? Julio?” At Gaston’s nod, he continued, “I want the men to steal the boat. The four of us will cause mayhem.”
I laughed. “Someday I will go somewhere and not cause mayhem.”
“WhenYarOld.”
Striker ordered the men to wait a good while and then proceed to take whichever boat they found best, while the four of us went to check for provisions and powder. He put Julio in charge, and spoke quietly to him so that he understood the entirety of what we were about and why. Julio was solemn and agreeable, as always. Davey was not, and asked to join the raiding party. Striker refused, and said that if he took issue with it, they could settle things later, but for now Davey had best do as ordered. Davey grudgingly acquiesced.
We left our muskets and pistols with the other men, and snuck down the rocky moonlit beach with knives in hand. When we found the first militiaman, secreted behind a dune watching the closest boat, we scared him as badly as he scared us. Pete recovered quickly and slit the man’s throat before he could give a cry. We realized we had chosen wisely, even if at the outset our plan had appeared rash. They were lying in wait for us.
We proceeded to stealthily circle the bay, silently killing sentries as we went and appropriating their weapons. They may have had an excellent plan; but, as Striker noted, they were incompetent in its execution. Two of the sentries were quite drunk, and all of them were stationed alone. None of them saw us in time to raise the alarm.
Twelve muskets later, we were heavily laden with pistols, shot, and dry powder. We returned to find our men waiting on the beach while Davey and Julio inspected the first boat. Thankfully Cudro was sleeping, and we were not forced to endure any gloating on his part. I was sure there would be time enough for that as we sailed home.
We equipped everyone; and those of us who still had them took back our own pistols and muskets, as they were far superior to the aging Spanish weapons the sentries had possessed. Unfortunately, they were all loaded with the questionable powder, and our first shots might flash in the pan; but we had no way to discharge them silently, so we resolved to do what we could.
Thus armed, we joined Davey and Julio at the first craft. They were greatly surprised to see us, and even more relieved that we had discovered the trap before it was sprung. We set sentries while they checked upon the second vessel. The first was empty, but the second was a good yard longer and loaded with tobacco. There was some quiet discussion, as we could always sell the tobacco, but it left little room for us on a boat that small. Cudro, awake now that he had been moved, insisted we take both craft; and Striker finally relented. The Dutchman, being unable to move about, was deposited on one boat with another man and three muskets. We sent two men to the other boat, with orders not to move it as of yet and to stay low.
Then the remaining nine of us slipped into the town proper. There were maybe fifty buildings in orderly rows. We quickly located the garrison, and discovered the rest of the town’s militia engaged in a party, complete with wine, women, and truly awful singing. With righteous anger, we assumed they were celebrating the death of our comrades. I did note that they must have been about it for two days if that was the case, as our men had been on the gallows that morning.
There were a good forty of them, and we were not sure if they comprised all of the armed men to be had in the vicinity; so instead of appropriating the wine and killing them directly, we blocked the doors from the outside and tossed two huge grenadoes onto the roof. These consisted of an onion bottle packed with powder inside a small cask packed with sand. The twin explosions brought the ceiling down atop the drunken Spaniards, and the overturned lamps and candles set the timbers ablaze. By then, we had found another source of wine and rum and even fresh bread, cheese, and sausage. We set fire to a few other buildings as we departed, but primarily we ran like heavily laden rats.
We had both boats quickly asail, but we paused at the mouth of the bay to cut our dead from the gallows and stack them one upon the other. We discovered they had indeed been tortured and disfigured before they were hung. I felt no guilt about the burning town behind us. We burned the bodies. The pyre was visible a long way down the coast as we sailed south.
It was a beacon to insanity. As I watched it, I ate bread and wondered where the Spanish were growing wheat and why revenge never lived up to one’s expectations. There was a light touch on my arm, and I looked to Gaston expectantly. He merely opened his hand in request for the hunk of cheese I was carving. I handed it to him and looked away.
We sailed south around a peninsula that thrust toward the strait and then down and east toward the Cayman Islands: our rendezvous point with the North Wind. Striker had a set of navigational instruments, and proved as competent in their use as I had suspected. The winds were cooperative, and we were not subjected to any storms. We once encountered whales, and I experienced several nights of horrific dreams, as I had not imagined the creatures to be so huge when so very close – especially not in comparison to our little craft, which were only a score of feet long apiece.
And so we crossed a hundred leagues of sea, without incident except for Cudro’s occasional carping. I was forced to admire the man’s persistence. Oddly, he did not seem so hateful to Gaston or myself any lon
ger, or really hateful to anyone. It seemed to simply be his natural mien.
We did not find the North Wind on the large Cayman island. We sailed all about the area looking for any sign of them, and found none. We provisioned and took a vote. It was decided that we return to Port Royal. We could not know how long we should wait, if at all. They could arrive the hour after we left or never.
In all that time, I wished for some sign from Gaston that he was not in agreement with my resolution. I could not look at him without thinking of his madness on the ship; yet I knew if he but reached for me, my resolve would crumble. I desperately wanted my resolve to crumble. But like a truly fine companion and matelot, he respected my wishes; and though the confines of the small craft sometimes pressed us together while sleeping, it was as if we were brothers and not lovers. He talked as if nothing untoward had ever passed between us, and to all appearances everything was as it had been before.
I felt my victory pyrrhic, yet I was afraid the Gods were not yet done with the matter.
Seventeen
Wherein The Die Is Cast
We arrived in Port Royal on my twenty-seventh birthday. I made mention of this, and all were amused that I had been given so fine a gift as to return home safely. Gaston regarded me thoughtfully. I supposed I should not complain; I was still amongst better companions than I ever had been on a birthday, and I had much to be thankful for. Yet I was miserable.
On a whim, I asked Gaston, “What day were you born?”
“March fifth, Gregorian.”
I chuckled despite my mood. “I suppose that is more accurate. I have always counted it by the day, no matter which calendar I was living under the aegis of.”
“This year it was right before you arrived,” he said quietly. Then he would not look at me.
We asked about, and no one had seen or heard from the North Wind. This sat heavy in our hearts, but we knew we could not give up hope as of yet. Thankfully, Hastings had brought the flute, our first prize of the voyage, into port; and it had been sold at auction. Striker decided to look for him later. Word of our adventure spread throughout the buccaneers in the Hole, and we were soon besieged with well-wishers and the curious. Striker promised to give a full accounting at the Three Tunns that night, and that relieved us of many of them. Gaston’s glare relieved us of the rest.
We sold the tobacco and parceled out the shares of it. Our cabal kept one of the flyboats, while others of our men kept the second. We parted company with the men for the time being, and our little band staggered down the street to Theodore’s. We could not think of another place to go; and with news of our story spreading through town, I thought it best to see him in person as soon as possible.
Peering through the window showed Theodore with clients we did not recognize, so we slipped into the yard and availed ourselves of the cistern and wash tub. Samuel appeared pleased with our arrival, and provided us with lemonade and a lemony cheesecake, which made him Pete’s friend. This seemed to alarm the poor man greatly.
Belfry, Dickey, and Tom blundered into the midst of us shortly thereafter, and Dickey squealed quite absurdly. Belfry and Davey stared at each other in surprise, and I stupidly wondered what that was about for a moment. Then, of course, I remembered – and immediately wondered how we would ever manage this mess.
“Boys, how good to see you,” I blurted. “How is that you are here?”
“We live here,” Tom supplied. “How are you? How was roving?”
“All three of you?” I asked, and they nodded. This elicited quiet groans from Striker and Pete, as we had hoped to sleep there for the night.
“Roving was… quite adventurous. You will have to accompany us to the Three Tunns tonight to hear the whole tale. We took a galleon from the Flota, and then we were beset by a serious storm, and we sank and had to steal a boat on the Cuban coast and sail back here.” They appeared suitably impressed with this brief account, and I wondered now what they must imagine at my tame and banal words compared to the reality of the event.
“So how is it you are living here?” I asked.
“I had a falling out with my uncle; and well, you are aware of Mister Belfry’s circumstances,” Tom said.
“Aye, indeed. How is it that you are still in Port Royal, my good man?” I asked Belfry. “I thought you were to be married, and assumed you would return home after the unfortunate business with the King’s Hope.”
I gave my companions a look fraught with meaning; and for a moment, Gaston and Striker regarded me with little comprehension. Then realization dawned, and my matelot’s eyes grew wide. Striker was on his heels and quickly informed Pete. Meanwhile, Davey had explained to Julio.
“Oh, I am; I have sent for her!” Belfry exclaimed. “With much gratitude to your generous bonus on the voyage, and the addition of a partner, I have found the way clear to become a business owner here in Port Royal.”
I was surprised. “That is splendid. What line of business?”
“Dickey and I are opening a haberdashery.”
“My God, that is… quite surprising. To think that I have in some small way been involved in bringing a haberdashery to Port Royal, of all places.”
Striker was laughing. “Good God, Will, you will have to be upon your death bed before you stop spreading mayhem in your wake.”
Gaston was smiling next to me; and Belfry and Dickey were eyeing Striker and him curiously.
“It is a jest,” I said quickly, “it would be difficult to explain, as it concerns something which occurred in our travels. So that is wonderful for you. And how are you faring, Tom? And is Harry here as well?”
This sobered them, and I immediately felt ill-at-ease.
“He has passed away,” Tom said.
“Truly, I am sorry. How, may I ask?”
“The flux.”
Gaston turned his back and appeared to somberly contemplate the cistern, but I knew he was fighting laughter. I considered elbowing him in the ribs, for if he let loose even one chortle, I would be quick to follow. And if the other jest would be difficult to explain, this one would be truly impossible. The tragic facet of the matter was that I sincerely felt sorry for Harry.
“I am sorry,” I managed to repeat in a sober fashion. This was aided by the realization that I could have shared his fate. “So, how goes it with you?”
“I have been considering roving,” Tom said. “In truth, I have few other options.”
“You are a fool,” I said. “Come to the Three Tunns tonight, and we will explain why.”
“I do not feel I will be dissuaded,” he said with a defiant jut to his chin.
This sobered me even more than Harry’s death. “Nay, you will probably not be.”
Belfry was eyeing Davey again. “How is it that you managed to escape the King’s Hope?”
I started to think of several possible excuses and outright lies; and then Davey said, “The bo’sun released me when he found the ship on fire, and I was able to get above decks and throw myself overboard. I swam a ways and some buccaneers that had come out to see the ruckus picked me up, and I joined them.”
Belfry seemed contented with this, and I was greatly relieved. The tale was well constructed in its plausibility; and I wondered who thought of it, as I could not credit Davey with it. I looked past him to Julio, and found my author of deceit. I flashed him a small smile, and he shrugged.
Theodore joined us on the tail end of that conversation, and he quickly crossed the yard to embrace me. I wondered at this, as in truth I had spent but a week with the man, and that was two months prior.
“Marsdale,” he gasped. “A man arrived from the Hole a few minutes ago, and told us that the North Wind had sank in a storm and all hands save a few had been lost.”
“It is interesting how these things spread,” I said, and shared a shrug with Striker. “We have no knowledge that she sank. The prize we were on sank. As you can see, we survived.”
“Tell me,” Theodore commanded.
I sigh
ed and made introductions all around, and launched into an unembellished account lacking in all personal detail. Theodore seemed satisfied with this, and I invited him to the Three Tunns for the better telling. In the meantime, I told him we had been hoping for a place to sleep. He said he knew of a house being let nearby and we could address that on the morrow. For today and tonight, we were welcome to any space he had, though he would not have any beds or hammocks for us. Tom and the boys offered up their hammocks in the guest room if we wished to catch some sleep prior to the night. We accepted their gracious offer quite heartily, and went upstairs to sleep somewhere comfortable.
There were, of course, six of us – and only three hammocks. Thankfully they were well attached to the posts, as Striker and Pete immediately jumped into one, and Davey and Julio followed suit with another. Reluctantly, but with fake good cheer, I crawled into the third with Gaston; and we positioned ourselves back to back, as we had often slept on the flyboat this last week. He seemed completely unconcerned by this.
We woke after dusk, and made our way to the Three Tunns. Everyone at Theodore’s went, with the exception of Samuel. The tavern was filled to overflowing, and we were allowed inside only because we were the ones with the tale to tell. Cudro and the other men were already there; and I was surprised the Dutchman had not attempted to steal the glory, as that would fit very well with his way of doing things. Then I took a good look at his still-bruised face, and realized he did not want to call attention to himself at this juncture. Someone might have asked what bull ran him down.
Henry Morgan was there, and he made a show of inviting us to his table in the center of the room. We joined him, but it was obvious there would not be room for the ten of us. This did not prove to be a problem, however, as every eye in the place was upon us; and many of our party were not sure what to make of it all, and did not wish to remain so visible. However, Striker and Pete were immensely pleased with the attention, and took center stage in a space cleared next to the table. Gaston and I sat with Morgan and the other captains, which is not what I would have planned, but it seemed safe at the moment. The rest of our party shoved themselves into the crowd in a less conspicuous fashion.
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