The Far Horizon

by Marsha Canham

  "Juliet!" Isabeau emerged from the smoke beside her daughter, huffing out of breath. "You are absolutely not going out there. You have your daughter to think about as well as your unborn child!"

  "Lily Rose is already gone with Evangeline, and I am completely healthy. I am also completely responsible for my men and my ship. I don't see you sending Gabriel up the hill to safety. Or Father."

  "Arguing with you is like—"

  "Arguing with yourself?"

  "Juliet!"

  "Mother! You and Father have taught us all from a young age that you can fight and lose, but you can never win if you don’t fight at all."

  Isabeau turned to her husband in an appeal for sanity. "Simon?"

  "For pity's sake," he said, "when you get on board, put some breeches on!"

  Juliet flashed him a quick grin then joined a group of armed crewmen who were running down to the shore.

  That was when a cannonball had come whistling out of the air and struck the very spot they had all been standing. The blast lifted Isabeau and Simon into the air and flung them twenty feet away onto the rocky ground.

  ~~

  Murdock Johnson paused here in the telling. He looked at the grim faces of the men seated around him: Jonas, Varian, Hobson Grundy and Artemis Franks. He shook his head and took a deep swig of rum before he continued the tale.

  ~~

  Men were screaming, dying everywhere. There was hardly any breeze in the basin of the valley and the early dawn light was obscured by choking clouds of smoke. The gunners on board two of the galleons aimed their cannon toward shore and continued to fire blindly into the sulphurous yellow fog, at times killing their own men along with the privateers. The crew on board the Iron Rose, now under Juliet Dante's command, had hacked the anchor cable free and moved into a position that allowed her to fire her starboard guns point blank into the tightly formed crescent of galleons. At the same time, her larboard guns chewed into the squadrons of conquistas on shore. With her crimson and black pennon flying proudly, boldly overhead, Juliet ordered her gunners to fire non-stop until their ears were bleeding from the concussions and their hands were scorched from the heat of the barrels.

  Meanwhile on shore, the men had set up defenses on the thick gabion wall that shaped the approach to the big house into two flat terraces that spanned more than three hundred yards apiece. At the far end of the upper terrace was the home Geoffrey Pitt had built for his wife Christiana and their brood of twelve children. At the opposite end was the skeletal beginnings of the home Gabriel Dante was building for his wife Evangeline and their little son, Joseph. Thus far it was only a stone foundation and a few upright timbers, but it afforded an excellent view of the valley and harbor below. It also offered protection for the men who crouched behind the foundation and were able to fire at the Spaniards and pin them down on the lower slope.

  While there were no heavy siege cannon mounted on the gabion walls, men had carried small caliber bow-chasers and perriers up from the armory and set them on the solid rock base. The guns were only capable of firing shot a distance of six hundred yards, but when loaded with pouches of nails or gravel, they could inflict terrible damage to human flesh.

  The wounded, in almost overwhelming numbers, were taken up to the big house where the doctor, Nog Kelly, and a small army of women were doing what they could with limited supplies. Every sheet, curtain, and cloth in the house was torn into bandages. Smoke and stink from the guns was everywhere. The floors ran red with blood and the older children were put to work spreading sand on Isabeau's lovely polished oak boards to keep everyone from slipping.

  Four hours into the raid most of the warehouses were in flames. The buildings, cottages, workshops that had been built along the shoreline over the past three decades had been blown apart, reduced to wreckage. There were bodies everywhere. Some of the people had fled to the tiny church but it was directly in the path of the advancing soldiers and whatever sanctuary they found there was short-lived.

  Geoffrey Pitt, bloodied from head to foot, stood at the gabion wall and surveyed the valley below. Beside him, Gabriel Dante stared blankly down into the harbor, watching his valiant ship burn. Unlike his sister, he had not managed to make it out to the Endurance. Two jolly boats had been shot out from under him and, unable to locate Simon or his mother, he had no choice but to remain on shore and assume command. He had gathered all the men and woman and instructed them to collect as many weapons and as much ammunition as they could carry.

  They had fought their way past the Spaniards and taken control of the high ground. After attempting several charges up the slope that had left the hillside littered with bodies, the Spaniards had pulled back into the trees but only a fool would believe they would turn tail and run. Two of their galleons had suffered fatal damage thanks to the combined efforts of the Iron Rose and the Endurance, but Gabriel's ship was mortally wounded. There were blooms of fire everywhere on board and she was listing heavily to one side. The men were ordered to abandon her and had swum ashore only to be cut down by the Spaniards on the beach.

  Juliet Dante, from her perilous vantage on board the Iron Rose, had seen the slaughter and had fired full broadsides into the ranks of the Spanish soldiers, driving them back long enough for the rest of the Endurance's crew to swim ashore. The Iron Rose was taking heavy fire, as was the Avenger, but both crews knew it was a losing cause. Most of the smaller vessels in the harbor were destroyed and by a series of signals sent from shore to the ships, it was decided their best defense would be on land.

  A small volunteer brigade of gunners led by Nathan Crisp was determined to remain on board the Iron Rose long enough to give cover fire while the crew escaped. Crisp's last act on board had been mutinous, for he had ordered the men to take Juliet off the ship by force if necessary and drag her through the water to shore.

  ~~

  Once again, Murdock had paused. He stared at the palms of his hands, then fisted them together as he raised wet, bloodshot eyes to Varian St. Clare. "She didn't want to leave the ship. Took three of us to get her off. And Master Crisp… last we saw, he was standin' on the quarterdeck, hands on his waist, flames from a burnin' sail hangin' behind him like a damned halo."

  "And Juliet?" Varian dared to ask.

  "Oh, she were ripe pissed. She were clawin' and cussin' like a she-devil all the way to shore. But we got her here. Drug her here and got her up the hill to the wall, and that's where I got shot. First one took off my ear—" he touched a hand to the stained bandages wrapped on a diagonal around his head. "Second ball took me in the rib, third one in the arm. Kinda fell just the other side of the wall but I wouldn't move, nope. Stayed with Capt'n Juliet till they carried me away."

  Jonas nodded grimly. "What happened next?"

  ~~

  Juliet Dante stood with Geoffrey Pitt and Gabriel at the gabion wall, her face twisted with rage, the grime on her cheeks streaked with tears.

  "Where did they come from? How did they breach the channel without anyone sounding an alarm? Where were the sentries?"

  Geoffrey shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know how in God's name this happened."

  "Christiana? Evangeline? The children?"

  "They are all right. So far as I know."

  Gabriel frowned. "I told Eva to take the children up into the caves, but—" he shrugged. "She's stubborn and does not take orders too well. The best promise I could get was that she would send them up with some of the injured men if things… if things started to look bad. Those were her exact words. If things started to look bad."

  He and Juliet exchanged a solemn glance, then both shared a bitter laugh.

  Gabriel shrugged. "What can I say? She married me, so we both know her judgement was impaired from the outset."

  "I think she made the wisest choice in the world, brother mine," Juliet said. "As for you," she looked at Geoffrey Pitt. "You have been the greatest friend, the most loyal companion my father could ever have chosen to sail at his side. And if anyone other t
han Simon Dante can defeat these bastards and find a way out of this mess, it is you."

  Damn near out of confidence, Pitt was about to run a hand through his hair, but both were crimson to the elbow. He tried, unsuccessfully, to clean the blood off, but his shirt was already soaked red so wiping them did no good. Only a small amount of the blood was his, the rest had leaked from the wounded men and women he had helped carry up the slope to the main house.

  Juliet peeled off the scarf she wore around her neck, still damp with seawater, and offered it to him. "What do you suppose they will do next?"

  Geoffrey blew out a breath. There had been a lull in the fighting that had already lasted longer than expected. "They are either gathering to make another charge up the hill, or—"

  Murdock, injured and propped on the wall, stabbed a finger out and pointed. "A flag! A flag, Captain!"

  Geoffrey had to squint to see through the haze of smoke drifting over the slope, but sure enough. A group of conquistas in full steel armor and plumed morion helmets were stepping out of the trees, a white flag prominently displayed.

  "Do you suppose they wish to surrender?" Juliet murmured.

  Gabriel raised both fists and knuckled the sweat and grime out of his eyes. He stared at the approaching group, then scrubbed again, certain his eyes were playing tricks. "Bust my balls with a brass andiron, look who is strutting out in front all prettied up in Spanish armor."

  ~~

  It was Hobson Grundy who broke into the narrative this time. "Give us a guess. He recognized the yellow-bellied slime-lipped turncoat who betrayed us."

  "Aye," Murdock said. "We all did. An we were all gob-smacked. Cap'n Juliet wanted to shoot him dead on the spot, but Cap'n Gabriel wouldn't let her. Not until they had their parlay and he heard what the other bastard had to say. The conquista in command. He came strutting up the hill in full metal armor with so many feathers in his helmet he looked like a bleedin' cockatoo."

  "Was his name Recalde?" Jonas asked tersely.

  "Aye. That was it. Weevil-faced bastard. Eyes too close together, nose hooked like a pike."

  ~~

  The party of Spaniards had halted a dozen paces from the stone wall and stared up at the silent phalanx of burly, armed men who glared back down at them with all the emotion of stone statues. Gabriel Dante's face was free of any expression despite the contempt oozing from every pore. Juliet Dante regarded the small group of Spaniards with the same piercing, murderous stare that had unnerved so many men in battle. Geoffrey Pitt stood deathly still; only the corded veins in his neck betrayed the pulsing hatred that flowed through his body.

  Gabriel's frigid gaze flicked across all of the faces before settling on one in particular. "So. You're the one who arranged this little party. You must be proud of yourself to have fooled so many for so long. I trust you earned more than thirty pieces of silver."

  The wolf hunter smiled. "I have been extremely well paid for my talents. A hundred ducats for every day of the two years spent planning this little surprise. And five hundred extra for every sentry I poisoned tonight. There were twenty-two, all told, so aye, I consider my efforts well rewarded."

  A muscle in Gabriel's jaw clenched. All traces of the former crewman's heavy brogue were gone. As if that was not enough of a shock, Dante's gaze was drawn to the Spanish officer beside him, to the glittering dark eyes that were set in a face that looked somehow horrifying familiar. The last time he had seen it, in fact, his back had been lashed to bloody ribbons, he and his crew had been tied to the shrouds of his ship to act as human shields. "Recalde?"

  The Spanish officer stepped forward. "We have not yet had the pleasure of meeting, señor Dante. But I believe you had some dealings with my late brother."

  "Brother?"

  El cazador savored the moment. "Allow me the inestimable pleasure of introducing Captain Juan Pedro Recalde. You were acquainted, I believe, with his twin, Don Cristobal Recalde."

  Gabriel drew a slow breath. "Acquainted, aye. I shot him in the throat, as I recall."

  "And I put my sword through his chest," Juliet spat.

  Recalde's dark eyes flicked to Juliet and widened. "This I did not know, but for that admission, dear puta, you shall suffer the same fate as your brother."

  "Proudly, you cockless snake."

  "My patience with your white flag is wearing thin by the second," Gabriel snarled. "What is it you want?"

  "I wish to speak with Simon Dante."

  The muscle in Gabriel's jaw twitched again. "You're speaking to me, and that is as good as you're going to get."

  Recalde scanned the glowering faces again and spread his hands in a gesture of conciliation. "In that case, a better question might be: What is it that you want? You are vastly outnumbered and each minute that passes, more of my men are landing on your shores. You cannot withstand too many more frontal assaults. By mid-afternoon, my conquistas will have circled around and closed you in on all sides. I am, however, prepared to offer generous terms of surrender. Your lives and the lives of your people if you lay down your arms now and offer no further resistance."

  Gabriel's stare was cold and hard. It broke for a moment to exchange a glance with Geoffrey and Juliet before he looked at Recalde again.

  "Go fuck yourself. As for you—" he brought a pistol out from behind his back. It was already cocked and before anyone could react, he squeezed the trigger and shot the traitor, Glencairn Rowlandson squarely between the eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  True to his word, Enrique Batista offered no further information, but his screams continued through the night, stopping abruptly just before dawn. Three large pits were dug to hold the bodies that were gently collected and buried together. Out in the harbor, the Tribute was strung with so many lanterns, her upper deck was as brilliant as in daylight and the glow spread across the water almost to shore. The crew worked steadfastly to empty her holds, dumping the cargo over the side. Twenty tons of copper sheathing was sent to the bottom, each sheet sending up swirls of sand as it landed so that when the sun rose, the water was a cloudy, murky green.

  Murdock Johnson had confirmed Dante's suspicion that the Spanish had been gone from Pigeon Cay a mere eight days. He could not say for certain how many hostages were aboard the departing ships or confirm any identities, but his face grew flushed and his body shook with outrage as he recounted how the Spaniards had raised the flag of Castile and Leon on the Avenger and the Iron Rose, both of which, despite the damage they had borne, were rendered seaworthy enough to be taken as prizes.

  Bella and Molly were kept busy with the injured survivors, one of whom had a horrendous burn covering half his chest that was far beyond Bella's rudimentary doctoring skills. In desperation she had herself rowed out to the Tribute to consult with Digger, only to find that he was unconscious and the entire cabin reeked of rum, a strong smell that did little to mask the stink from his putrefying leg. Although he was hot with fever, his leg from the calf down was black and icy cold. Despite bleedings and poultices, all efforts to halt the spidery red vesticles had failed and the mortification was creeping upward over his knee.

  "It's going to have to come off if he is going to live out the week."

  Bella jumped and Artemis Franks apologized.

  "I do beg your pardon. I thought you heard me stumbling about like a clumsy elephant."

  He was grimy from head to toe. His hair was soaked with sweat and tied in a tail at his nape, his shirt was filthy and torn in a dozen places, the sleeves were rolled above his elbows. His forearms were cut and scraped and he had a nasty gash in the scarred flesh of his right cheek.

  Her eyes lingered a moment on the stretched, melted flesh. "I… came to see if he could help me. Or advise me. But perhaps you would know better what to do. One of the men they brought down from the caves is terribly burned and in a great deal of pain and I don't know what to do for him. Slashes, scrapes, even open wounds Molly and I can manage, but I have no experience with gunpowder burns."

 
After a moment—one wherein she could tell by the briefly distant look in Franks' pale blue eyes that he was likely remembering his own injury—he nodded and walked over to the shelves that contained most of Digger's herbal concoctions. He took the stopper out of a bottle of clear blue liquid, sniffed it then handed it to Bella. "Digger's prescriptives usually involve enough rum to render a man senseless—as you can see—but a few drops of opium elixir mixed in will do more to help the pain. Is the flesh blistered or raw?"

  "Some of both."

  He rummaged a few moments longer, filling a small canvas pouch with some herbs and dried leaves. When he had gone through most of Digger's supplies, he drew the string on the pouch to close it and handed it to Bella.

  "Drain the blisters with a hot knife then set some women to chewing these with wild onion or sage if you can find a garden patch that has not been trampled. Spit the paste and juice on a piece of linen and place it over the burn then cover that with a plantain leaf to make a poultice. Try to keep him from moving about too much or stretching the skin."

  "Thank you."

  "My genuine pleasure, m'lady," he said, bowing slightly. "I trust Molly is faring well?"

  "She is an immense help. I'm not sure I could cope without her. The children have taken to her like mice to a square of cheese, and she to them. I suspect she will make a wonderful mother some day. And an excellent wife."

  The warmth that colored Artemis Franks' cheeks surprised Bella almost as much as had the emotion streaming from Jonas Dante's eyes the previous night. And just as she had with Jonas, she pretended she saw nothing untoward. She packed the bottle of elixir and the pouch of herbs into a straw basket along with a few instruments that might prove useful. Into a large canvas sack she collected all the rolled strips of bandaging linen she could find as well as some bundled pledgets of lint.

  Artemis reached over and took the basket from her hands. After calling one of the crew to watch over Digger, he carried the basket and a small cask of 'medicinal' rum up to the maindeck then helped Bella down to the waiting jollyboat. They were rowed to shore in silence and parted company on the beach.