Cerulean Isle

by G. M. Browning

  As we rode by, he did not stare at the produce as a beggar would. He stared at me. His gaze was chilling.

  I turned to Grant. “Have you seen that man before?”

  “No. But look at his feet.” He was barefoot. “I think we found our thief. Throw him a loaf of bread or something.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I know what that life is like.”

  I reached into a basket, withdrew a large golden loaf, and tossed it to the old man. The loaf landed in the dirt and rolled off the road. He made no motion to get it. He just stared back at me.

  “That’s odd,” said Grant. “Maybe he’s of ill mind. Let’s forget him. If I catch him around the farm tonight, he’ll be in for some trouble.”

  As we passed, he stood up and watched us ride down the main road.

  ~~~~~~

  The market was crowded as usual. It did not take long for the eager crowd to gather around to obtain our goods. The people were glad to see us and exchange the usual pleasantries with Grant.

  White clouds glided across the blue sky. The wind was steady and cool. The day was prosperous from the start and I was pleased. Among the merchants and patrons I spotted a few official-looking men. They looked like members of a royal fleet in their dark blue uniforms. They approached eagerly. Grant stood up and shook their hands; I did the same.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Jacob of Rosewing. My name is Robert of the A.B.C. Trade Company. Allow me to introduce my partner, Davis.”

  “Nice to meet you both,” I assured.

  The men could have been brothers. They each had short, sandy hair and wore curling mustaches. Davis seemed troubled. His eyes scanned the townsfolk as if looking for someone.

  “Fine day for making money, eh?” asked Robert.

  “Indeed. Today has been good,” replied Grant.

  “Forgive my haste,” said Robert, “but Grant expressed an interest in supplying our company. Do you share this desire?”

  “I believe it is your company that is interested in Rosewing.” I did not like his arrogant tone. Merchants from all corners of the Caribbean would quickly sign with us if given the chance. These men were not exceptional by any means.

  “It goes both ways, sir,” he answered.

  “I disagree.”

  Grant nudged me as if to tell me to relax.

  “Be that as it may,” continued Robert, “we need our vessel restocked. Our journey westward must commence soon.”

  Grant noticed Davis’s increasing anxiety. “What’s wrong with your partner?”

  Robert hesitated, then said, “After docking, we checked our ship’s stock and noticed several barrels of smoked fish, nuts, limes, and bread had been opened. A bottle of wine had been consumed as well. The crew is convinced that we had a stowaway. But I assure you that—”

  “Stowaway?” I interrupted. “Is your company that vulnerable?”

  “The entire matter is absurd,” insisted Robert. “We’ve had trouble with an old sea-scab from Curacao, a thief who insists on stealing from our stock. I personally inspect the cargo hold prior to each voyage, and I am certain that no one has stolen passage aboard my ship.” He withdrew a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. “The sun here is fierce, isn’t it?” He folded the handkerchief and then turned to Davis. “Hand our business proposal to Master Jacob. I’m sure he’ll agree that it—”

  “I’m not interested in your company.”

  “Is that so?” Robert scoffed incredulously.

  “Yes. Your professionalism is lacking. You’ve chosen a marketplace to talk business, your stock has been compromised, and yet you approach us with arrogance in your tone.”

  “If you don’t desire to sign with the most respected trading company in the Caribbean, that is your choice. Perhaps we’ve wasted our time on your little farm.”

  “Do not speak down to me,” I shouted. Grant put his hand on my shoulder to calm me.

  “For all we know,” added Grant, “you might be in the practice of sailing with beggars to rid your homelands of them. Yes, that must be it. Leave now or I will tell the island that transients hoist your mainsail.”

  Robert and Davis expediently took their leave. Grant sat and laughed.

  ~~~~~~

  As night fell, Grant and I packed our wares and set the wagon on the road. As we rode toward Rosewing, something caught our eyes. In the shadows, seated under a tree, was the old man staring at us as we passed.

  “That’s the same man we passed this morning,” I said. “We must confront him and find out who he is and what his interest is in Rosewing.”

  “Would you like to challenge him now?”

  “No. It’s getting dark. Tomorrow we’ll find him.”

  Chapter 26

  Unexpected Guest

  The next morning I woke to the rumble of thunder. The rain was heavy. The dark green jungle swayed in the reckless wind. I dressed and met Grant, Anna, and Martin in the dining room. Anna had prepared a simple breakfast of eggs, warm bread, and milk.

  “Top of the morning to you,” greeted Martin. “Grant told me all about the strange man. What are you going to do?”

  “We’ll find him and question him about his interest in our farm,” I answered.

  “Perhaps he’s just looking for work,” Martin suggested.

  “The way he stared at us was odd. And, if he wanted a job, he could have met us at the market.”

  Grant stood up and went to the window. “It seems that the rainy months are upon us. It’s going to be a tough time for the homeless. That wind is getting worse, and I am sure that you’ll find an angry sea. No ships will be coming in or going out until this storm passes. That old man, if he is a stowaway, won’t be leaving the island for a while. I’ll take Teach into town and look around the market and the wharf. What about you, Jacob?”

  “I’ll take Morgan and ride along the trails and back roads. I’ll also check the beaches. At days end, say five o’clock, we’ll meet at the Cod Fish Tavern.”

  Our faithful horses didn’t seem to mind the rain. I could see the harbor in the distance as we rode down the sloping road to town. The masts of the ships swayed, and the ocean smashed against the piers. All ships were battened down and moored securely to the docks. A few workers scrambled to secure lines. Soaked from the rain, I rode on.

  The ocean was loud and violent. Formidable waves crested and slammed over the shoreline. The rain hammered on my shoulders. I found no one along the stretch of beach, so I raced over the stony sand and back onto the road. I knew of several old vendor huts that drifters often used as shelter. Perhaps I’d find our man there.

  I came to a hut and approached it cautiously. It was small and made of thin planks. The thatch roof provided minimal protection from the relentless rain. I dismounted and went to the door.

  “Hello,” I called out over the pounding rain.

  Thunder rumbled overhead. No reply.

  “Is anyone in here?” I shouted. I could taste the rain dripping into my mouth. The door opened without resistance. I peered inside. Empty.

  I checked every hut. It seemed that I was the only one mad enough to be out in the terrible weather. I wondered how Grant was doing. After several hours, I had covered the entire length of the main beach, traveled the road three times, and checked every shack and lean-to in the area. I had begun to shiver as a harsh cough brewed in my chest. My search was over.

  ~~~~~~

  The town square and marketplace was barren. Morgan’s shoes shattered the large puddles. My cough was becoming painful. I rode through the square but did not find Grant. I decided to get out of the rain.

  I tied Morgan under the covered corral and went into Cod Fish Tavern. There was a different barkeep, a woman this time. She saw me enter and rushed to my side.

  “You look dreadful.” She wrapped her arms around my soaked shoulders and led me to a table by the fireplace. I sat down and coughed. “Stay right here until you’re dry. I’m going to get you something hot to d
rink.”

  “Thank you, miss.” I shivered. My hair clung to my face and my pants dripped, making puddles on the floor. Some of the seamen in the crowded tavern looked at me and laughed. I ignored them and enjoyed the comforting warmth of the fire. The woman returned and handed me a dry towel and a steaming cup of tea.

  “May I ask you a question?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Have you seen anyone unusual pass through here? Anyone who you’ve never seen before?”

  “There were two men from a trade company here not long ago.”

  “I’ve met them. Tell me, what did you find unusual about them?”

  Worry formed on the barmaid’s face. “I’m not comfortable saying so, really.”

  I reached into my pocket and took out ten reales. I placed them in her hand. “Tell me. It’s important.”

  “I overheard one of them talking business. I hear all sorts of conversations, you know. Well, this man was telling a horrible story. He spoke of Curacao and said it has become a dangerous place over the last ten years. He mentioned something about an old pirate leader named Shivley, Shortley…no that’s not it…”

  “Shanley?”

  “That’s right. Shanley.”

  The image of Captain James Shanley’s dead body dangling off the starboard bow of the Obsidian flashed in my mind.

  She looked over her shoulder to be sure no one was listening to our conversation. “He said some terrible men murdered Shanley and his son ten years ago. Everyone in Curacao prospered from Shanley’s fortune in those days…at least, so said the trader.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “That the death of Shanley started a decline in their society. They had no leader and no protection. Crime fell upon Curacao as swiftly as a September hurricane. Raiders came often to sack what remained of Shanley’s empire. Curacao did its best to fight back, but they were no match for the pirates. The fighting and pillaging eventually ceased, but the chaos had repercussions.”

  “What kind of repercussions?”

  “Criminals escaped. During the largest of the raids roughly eight years ago, Curacao’s main prison was ambushed and blown open. The worst criminals to ever plague the Caribbean were set free. Thieves, pirates, assassins, and arsonists fled the island. These prisoners were all supposed to be executed in due time, but the government of Curacao is notoriously slow in this matter.

  “The man from the trade company said that he hated stopping in Curacao. The harbor of Willemstad is full of beggars and thieves. He said that one thief routinely targeted their ship. They did nothing to stop him for one reason.”

  “What reason is that?” I coughed and sipped my tea.

  “The thief matches the description of a madman who escaped the prison. He is a criminal so cunning and ruthless that they decided to let him steal from their stock for fear that he would kill them.”

  “Let me guess,” I insisted. “This madman stowed away on their ship and is now in Grenada?”

  “Yes! How did you know?”

  I coughed again and replied, “Their representatives blurted something about their problems with stowaways.” I sipped my tea. “One last question, miss. Have you seen a red-haired man tonight, probably as wet as I am?”

  As I finished the question, the door to the tavern swung open, and Grant hurried in and rushed over with a look of concern.

  “Did you find him?” I asked just above a whisper.

  “I searched the town high and low, before I realized our folly. He’s not in the town or the harbor. He’s not in the market or pubs, neither hiding along the roads, or in a hovel on the beach. The jungle is not safe in a storm like this, so what is the one place that we didn’t look?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  “Rosewing.”

  I almost spat up my tea.

  “I rode back to our farm as quickly as I could,” Grant continued. “Let me ask you, did you leave a lantern burning in your room?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. We found him. Now let’s go get him.”

  ~~~~~~

  Grant was right. A yellow light burned from my window. We paused on the front porch to form a plan.

  “Where are Martin and Anna?” I asked.

  “They should be asleep. It’s about the time when they turn in. Look there.” Grant pointed. “Their room is dark and the curtains are drawn.”

  “I hope no harm has come to them.”

  “Don’t think that way, Jacob. So how do you want to handle this?”

  “I’ll go in, grab a sword from the wall in the parlor, and corner him in my room. You’ll wait under the window in case he decides to jump.”

  Grant slipped through the shadows with the finesse of the finest thief. I entered the manor with tender footfalls. I went to the parlor and took a long, sharp cutlass off the wall.

  I came to Martin and Anna’s room and quietly opened the door. They were safe and asleep in their bed. I moved on through the hall. Outside the door to my room, I heard the shifting of feet on the floorboards. With my sword readied, I kicked open the door. “Stop where you stand, vagabond!” I commanded with my blade’s tip pointed at him.

  He stood behind my desk in tattered, gray clothing. His stabbing brown eyes lifted slowly and met mine. He was not scared of me and didn’t even acknowledge the sword in my hand. He stood like a man who had ventured to the farthest regions of hell and back, a man of cunning and control.

  The nostrils under his crooked nose flared and a strange smile began to form. I could count the remaining teeth with one hand and have fingers left over. The lines on his face were deep and shadowy in the lantern light.

  “Come away from the desk,” I ordered.

  “First it is ‘stop where I stand,’ and now you order me to move? Which will it be?” His voice was dry and his words were well pronounced. He seemed entertained by me.

  “Do not mock me. Do as I say.”

  “Mockery is such a motivating thing. Don’t you think?”

  I did not reply. He stepped away from the desk.

  “I was getting worried about you, good Lord of Rosewing.” He stood in front of my desk, caring naught for the deadly steel in my hand. “That storm was merciless, as they all tend to be in their own way. Just like men.”

  “If you desire mercy from me, stranger, you’ll be silent and make your way downstairs. There, you will answer my questions.”

  “Good. And you shall answer mine.” His eyes glanced at my cutlass. “You can lower your blade. As you can see, I am unarmed and outnumbered. You can order the other Lord of Rosewing to come back inside now. I yield, Jacob.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  His strange smile widened. “I know everything about you. And you know everything about me.”

  “I don’t understand. Who are you?”

  “I guess you could say I am a writer. You have my masterwork among your books.” He held out his hand for me to shake. “My name is Owen. It is an honor to meet the man who bested Jean L’Ollon.”

  Chapter 27

  An Important Message

  Grant and I escorted our intruder to the parlor. I kept my sword readied. Our unwanted guest looked around the room. His eyes touched the rows of books, the vases of flowers, the blazing fireplace and shelf of wine, ale, and rum.

  I lifted the tip of my cutlass to enforce my words. “You say your name is Owen, that you are the author of that old journal. How will you prove this?”

  “Proof? Aye.” He began to disrobe. He tore off his stained shirt and then his ragged pants. “Here.” He pointed to his left arm, revealing a deep scar just above his bicep. “And here.” A similar scar was in the middle of his left thigh. “Permanent remembrances of Shanley’s pistol. One shot bested me while on Darien soil, the other in Shanley’s private quarters.”

  I lowered my sword and held out my hand. “Welcome to Rosewing.”

  ~~~~~~

  We presented our guest with a
small feast: a steaming bowl of potatoes, carrots, and chicken with another dish of fruit, golden rolls, and a tall mug of fresh milk. Owen ate slowly and savored every bite.

  “You have truly strengthened me. I am in your debt.”

  “You can repay me,” I replied, “by telling me why you’ve come here.”

  “You are as impatient and as passionate as they told me you would be.”

  "They? Who are they?”

  “Christoff and Waylin.”

  I sat up at once. “Christoff and Waylin, you say?”

  “Indeed, Master Jacob. It is under their order that I have come to Grenada. I have come to deliver an important message.”

  Grant and I stared at him.

  “L’Ollon’s men, the pirates of the Obsidian, are coming.” Owen’s eyes burned with urgency. “It is time for you to leave, and you must do so immediately.”

  I stood up. “That is preposterous! It’s been ten years. Surely, L’Ollon’s men have been locked up by now.”

  “Nay,” Owen said. “They’re already here.”

  “What?” Grant asked.

  “Who do you think it was that you fought with in the Cod Fish? That was one of them. They are trickling in slowly, Lords of Rosewing. They do this to avoid suspicion. Their numbers are great, and I am certain that on the morrow they will begin their search for the two lads who killed their captain, the two lads who are now two men.”

  There was a moment of thoughtful silence. My mind drifted to memories of the long ago days of hardship.

  “Past and present clashing like great battleships,” shouted Owen. “Ahoy! And now the adventure goes on. Oh at last, at last!” He laughed and spun around the room. A madman, indeed.