The fog was gone, save for a pale, lingering haze that suggested it was shortly past dawn. There were no galleons facing them beam-on, with cannons ready to spit smoke and brimstone. There was nothing to see at all, in fact, but sheer stone walls flanking either side of the Endurance.
Her mouth went slack with surprise. The jagged walls were perhaps a dozen yards off either beam and as she craned her neck to look up, they rose at least that high above the deck of the ship and were capped by tall, spindly pine trees.
She washed quickly and found her clothes, then hurried out of the cabin, joining the rest of the crew topside. Men had climbed the shrouds and perched high on the yards. They lined the rails and stood on the cannon barrels. Even some of the wounded men who had passed through the surgery last night had been helped up on deck by their mates.
Eva turned a full, slow circle. At first glance it seemed as though they were surrounded by cliffs. But she could feel the gentle roll and sway of the boards, and realized they were gliding through a narrow channel.
There was another bump and groaning of the timbers as the hull scraped against rock. Men shouted and heaved on long wooden poles to push her clear. Gabriel Dante was among them, stripped to the waist, his chest, arms, and face gleaming with sweat. As he pushed and heaved on the pole, his hair sent little silvery droplets of sweat flying out before him. His teeth were bared in a grimace, which turned into a shout of satisfaction when the ship responded and nosed further into the middle of the channel.
There were still longboats in the water and men on oars towing the galleon forward. But there did not seem to be the same sense of urgency in either the speed at which they rowed, or the laughter of the crew as they shouted down comments about pulling on the oars like schoolboys stroking their puds.
Dante handed off his pike to another man and snatched up his shirt, using it to wipe the sweat off his face and neck. He spied Eva standing by the rail near the quarterdeck and beckoned her to follow him up and join him there.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"An excellent question, Mermaid. The best guess is that we somehow managed to enter one of the smaller inlets without crushing the hull up against the rocks. And to answer your next question, no, I have no idea where the channel ends or how long it is or where we will end up when we are through it. As you can see, there is no room to turn this bitch around, so we must keep inching forward in the hopes of not ending in dead water. It also follows that we have no way of knowing where Muertraigo and his ships might be."
He shook out his shirt and pulled it over his head, the thin cloth sticking instantly in wet patches to his skin. As he was tucking it into his belt, Stubs came up beside him, tugged a forelock in Eva's direction, then gave Dante the not-so-good news.
“The channel ends up against dead rock around the next bend.”
Dante's expression changed and he shook his head. "Bloody well figures.”
“Men said there’s a sandy bit ahead where we could land a gig and climb up top to have a look-see.”
Dante nodded. “Ship the oars and stop the tow. Drop an anchor so we don't drift any further in."
Stubs moved away, looking equally unhappy.
"We sent a jolly boat on ahead to see where the channel leads,” Gabriel explained to Eva, “and of course it leads nowhere. We'll have to reverse the tow and haul her back out to open water. Hopefully, if we can climb up top, we'll be able to see where we are and where we've been and if anyone is waiting for us when we drag her out again."
"You're going to go ashore?"
"I am, yes."
"Oh please... may I come with you?"
He frowned, looking every inch the stern captain and nothing of the gentle lover. "Absolutely not."
"Stubs said there was a sandy place to land. I promise I will not leave the beach, I'll just sit there and wait for you. I've not set a foot on solid ground for over two months. Please, Captain."
The amber eyes held hers, a second refusal on the tip of his tongue.
"Please," she whispered.
Dante blinked. The word, and the way she said it, was an echo of the soft cry she had made in his ear when she was clutching him, shuddering through an orgasm. It was a distracting thought and he frowned, intending to turn away with a more adamant "No." But Stubs was still within earshot and he was nodding, sympathizing with the girl.
"Ye can send young Eduardo to sit with the lass," he said. "No harm in that."
Dante narrowed his eyes. He looked from Stubs to Eva, whose eyes were so green and hopeful it caused another twinge in the vicinity of his groin. "Fine. She can sit on the sand. Eduardo!"
"Aye, Captain?" The shout had gone down to the main deck, but the lad was standing right behind him, which caused his scowl to deepen.
"I am placing Mistress Chandler in your care. Lose her or take your eyes off her for one second and I’ll peel the skin off your arse with my teeth. We leave in two minutes."
~~
Eva sat in the middle of the longboat, her pulse racing as two oarsmen in front and two behind rowed the tiny landing party through the channel. They travelled several hundred yards, around lazy bends and darkly shaded narrows before there was a noticeable decline in the height of the stone walls on either side. Birds nesting in crevices and on ledges squawked as they passed. Some flew up, startled, which was the signal for others to join in and soon the echo of their cries was bouncing back and forth off the walls as the seabirds circled and swooped overhead.
Around a final bend, the wall off the starboard beam turned into more of a rocky slope which ended where the inlet itself ended, in a perfectly round, incredibly blue deepwater hole with a sandy ledge off to one side. It was there they landed the jolly boat and pulled the bow up onto the sand. Eduardo hopped out first and offered a hand to Eva, followed by Dante and Stubs, both of them heavily armed, wearing a brace of pistols each, as well as belted swords and daggers.
Leaving Eduardo and Eva with the boat, the men set off up the slope. They found a goat path and made the climb with relative ease, then vanished over the top of the cliff.
Eva thought once she stepped onto the sand, she could dance and spin about, happy to have solid ground beneath her again. The opposite happened, however. Her legs felt as awkward as a newborn's. She had become so accustomed to balancing against the roll and sway of a deck, that to stand on solid, unmoving land almost made her nauseous.
"Goodness," she said, reaching for support against a large boulder.
"Sea legs," Eduardo explained. "Takes a few hours, sometimes a day or more to get your land legs back after a long voyage. Helps if you sway a bit, like this." He rocked his upper body by way of example, which only made Eva's head spin faster watching him.
She focussed on the water instead, noting where the sandy ledge turned into rock then dropped straight down into the depths. The water was so clear she could see a long way down before the bottom turned midnight blue, then black.
"Bottomless holes," Eduardo said. "No tellin' how deep they are. Seen them here an' there on other islands where the natives say creatures that are half shark and half octopus live below. Some say if you swim out to the middle, one of 'em will come up and suck you down like in a whirligig."
"I guess I will not go for a swim then," Eva murmured.
"You can sit here in the shallows safe enough," he suggested. "Might not get another chance for a while."
Liking his own idea, he hopped onto one foot and removed a boot, then hopped to the other. He waded in fully clothed and, after dunking himself underwater, used handfuls of the fine sand to scrub the soot and gunpowder residue from his shirt and breeches.
Eva glanced down at the state of her own garments. Having nothing else, she’d dressed in the same clothes she’d had on in the surgery, which were spattered with dried blood stains.
She sat on a rock and removed the supple leather boots Eduardo had scrounged for her. She walked gingerly to the edge of the water and swished her toes around, then
stepped in until she was wet to the tops of her thighs. She copied Eduardo and lifted handfuls of the fine silt from the bottom, working it into the stains on her shirt and breeches until both garments were somewhat cleaner.
Eduardo, scarlet-faced from trying not to notice how the wet shirt clung to the shape of her breasts, walked to the edge of a rock rim where the water came up to mid-chest. He peered into the midnight depths and when no monsters were forthcoming, gave a loud hoot and dove into the water. He swam the width of the pool, which was a goodly hundred yards across, and lingered there a while before paddling leisurely back. By then, Eva was perched on a rock, twisting the water out of her shirttails and hair.
It was still early in the morning and eastern wall of rock was keeping the sun from shining down on them, but they could tell by the brilliant blue of the sky that it was going to be another hot, clear tropical day.
"How long have you been with Captain Dante?" she asked.
"Since I was ten," Eduardo answered proudly. "I was born on Pigeon Cay. My father and Cap'n Gabriel's father—Captain Simon—have been best mates since they both sailed with Cap’n Drake.”
“Sir Francis Drake?”
“El Draque, the Spaniards called him, just like they call Cap’n Simon el Pirata Lobo.”
“And your father? Does he have a name?”
“Geoffrey Pitt. Spaniards call him… Geoffrey Pitt.” He laughed at his own joke before continuing. “I've an even dozen brothers an' sisters. My next older brother, Ramon, sails with Cap'n Juliet, an' the oldest one, Simon, sails with Cap'n Jonas."
"Quite the family affair," she said, smiling.
"More like an honor, Miss. Father makes us learn as much as we can from books—not even allowed to step foot on one of the big ships without memorizing every star in the sky or knowing every cleat and line and strake on a ship—but what's in the captains' heads is way more exciting and important. Can't teach it out of books, nope."
"You're not afraid... when the ships go into battle?"
"Course I'm afraid. We're all afraid. It was real bad on the Valour, when them Spanish captured us and tied us all up to the shrouds. Lost some of my best mates." His handsome young face fell for a moment, remembering. "But you can't think ‘bout what happened yesterday nor worry about what might happen tomorrow. We're livin' an' breathin' an' the sun is shinin' today an' that's all that matters."
Eva looked around at the heavy shadows and shivered in her wet clothes. "The sun is shining somewhere, for sure, just not here. Do you suppose I might be allowed to climb to the top long enough to warm up and dry off?"
"Cap'n said to stay here."
"He didn't say to catch a chill and be struck down by a fever."
Eduardo chewed on his lip and glanced up the slope. "Well..."
Eva stood. "You can stay here with the boat if you're worried. I'm just going to climb up there—" she pointed. “I will stay in sight. If I see them returning, I'll hurry right back down."
"I don't know, Miss—"
"It will be fine," she said, pulling on her boots again. Before he could object she set off up the same incline the men had taken, picking her way carefully up the path to the top.
There, she had to steady herself again, and wait for her land legs to recover from the climb. She found a large boulder that gave her a clear view of the enormous blue pool below as well as the surrounding terrain, which was all rocks and trees and stubby vegetation. There was no sign of the small landing party, but there were higher rises and hillocks where they must have gone to get a better view of their surroundings.
The sun had cleared the peaks, however and it felt comforting on her face. There was a breeze as well, warm and dry, and it quickly started to shake the moisture out of her linen shirt. She waved down to Eduardo, who still looked dreadfully unhappy. From up high, the water hole was like a perfect blue circle. The channel leading to it was markedly shallow in comparison but because she was not altogether comfortable with heights, she did not get closer than a dozen paces from the edge of the cliff to see how or where it meandered through the rocks.
When on board, the mainmast of the Endurance seemed to tower over the deck, yet she could see no sign of it through the trees. She kept a sharp eye out for any sign of movement on the hillocks, but saw nothing other than the birds circling overhead and one tiny furry creature scuttling away behind a rock.
She tipped her face up and closed her eyes, letting the sun work its magic. Only then did she allow herself to think of her father, wondering if he was sitting somewhere close by enjoying the same wash of sunlight on his face. She had not allowed herself that hope. She had not even dared to allow herself to hope that Gabriel Dante might actually help her find him.
"Father," she whispered. "I am here. I am close. Please let me believe you are still alive."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Half a mile away, Dante was studying the land and the surrounding sea with a practised eye. He and Stubs were standing on high ground, which gave them a clear view of the island extending several miles in all directions, including the broken scattering of atolls and islets that extended south and west. Stretching out to the east was the wide channel of the Tongue, the silvery surface glittering with the newly risen sunlight. Muertraigo’s galleons were there, looking close enough to keep Dante and Stubs tucked behind a copse of palm trees lest their silhouettes stand out against the clear sky. Two of the ships, Gabriel was pleased to note, showed heavy damage from the previous night. One of them was listing so badly he doubted it would see another sunrise.
The fourth ship had finally joined the others and appeared to be a merchantman. Her reticence in coming forward last night could be explained by the fact she only carried six guns. It was a light carrack, the type used by the Portuguese to trade in the islands, probably captured and taken in prize by Muertraigo without him having to fire a shot.
“Looks like he’s goin’ to lose the one for sure,” Stubs predicted. “She’s already taken on too much water to make it through the reef. We could finish her off and blow by without workin’ up a sweat.”
“We could,” Gabriel agreed quietly, his glass still trained on Muertraigo’s flagship, the San Mateo. The top fifteen feet of the main mast had been shot away and crews, looking like ants crawling up and down shrouds, were working feverishly to cut away the broken timber and bolt a replacement in place.
He moved the glass to follow the coastline, relieved to see that all four ships had drifted past the opening to the passage where the Endurance was currently trapped… or hidden, as he preferred to think of it. They were still alarmingly close and he made a mental note to warn the men against building any fires or, as the gun captains liked to do, clear the barrels of the cannon with gunpowder.
“It’ll take us at least a full day to turn the Endurance around and haul her out to open water again,” Stubs growled.
“After that, three days to the Cay, three days back.” Dante shook his head. “Once Muertraigo sails into that bight, we’ll lose him. Whether he goes straight through or tucks himself behind any one of a score of atolls and cays… we could lose him.”
Stubs glanced sidelong at his captain, suspecting he was not going to like what he was about to hear.
“Fifty men could cut inland and keep them in our sights. We could rig a system of signal fires showing which way we went, leaving a man at each post. Moreover, those repairs he’s making are temporary and won’t hold up in a high wind. He’ll have to pull in somewhere to seat a new mast, which could buy us extra time.”
Stubs squinted into the sunlight and removed his cap, scratching at the stubble starting to grow back on the left side of his head. “Sailors sail on account o’ they don’t like to march. And yer father might be pissed at ye takin’ it all on yerself.”
“Which is why I propose you take the Endurance to Cay and bring back reinforcements.”
“Knew I wouldn’t like it,” Stubs grumbled. “Yer father won’t like it either, an’ I’m more afr
aid of him than I am o’ you.”
Dante arched an eyebrow.
“Sorta,” Stubs added.
“If you have a better suggestion, I am all ears.”
“Take a hundred men, not fifty. Still leaves me enough to sail the sow to home port, an’ gives you enough to set up a warm reception. Take Giddings. He’s the best gunner we ‘ave, an’ he likes to blow things up.”
Dante nodded. “We’ll take as much powder and shot as we can carry, as well as food for several days.”
While his captain listed the supplies he would need, Stubs leaned over and spat. “Me mam wanted me to be a priest. I should’ve given it a try.”
“And deprive all your wives of your lusty attention?” Gabriel laughed. “You wouldn’t have had half as much fun.”
“Oh, aye. I’m laughin’ hard enough to piss my breeks every night.”
~~
A shadow passed across Eva’s face blocking out the sun. She opened her eyes and saw Dante standing over her, his hands on his hips, his broad-brimmed leather hat shielding his eyes from the glaring sun.
She looked around quickly as she straightened, but they were alone on the top of the cliff. The other men in the landing party had gone below already and were on the little beach with Eduardo.
"I thought I told you to stay with the boat."
"I did. I mean, I was. But we went into the water to wash off and there was no sun down there, so..."
He grunted under his breath and continued to scowl.
"I'm sorry, Captain. I didn't see the harm and Eduardo did try to stop me so please don't punish him for my stubbornness."
Dante swept his hat off his head. He raked a hand through the tangled locks of his hair and sat on the rock beside her. "I think you'll feel punishment enough come sundown." He turned and let his gaze run across her cheeks and nose. "If you're not used to the tropical sun, it can blister your skin in under an hour."
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