Fatemeh closed her eyes and considered what Ramon had told her. She tried to think how pirates could disable a ship without firing a shot. “I presume they’ll be careful to make sure the crew of this Stockton is trustworthy.”
“I would think so. They would need to know they could rely on the crew.”
“It seems like the easiest way to disable a ship without firing a shot is to have a spy aboard.” Fatemeh inclined her head. “How do you know the pirates will even attack if everyone aboard the ship is loyal?”
“I guess that’s a chance we’ll have to take.” Ramon shrugged.
“Will this Mr. Burke pay you if you don’t capture the pirates?”
Ramon looked down at his hands again, but did not lift his eyes. “He says they’ve been spreading the word the Stockton is carrying a valuable cargo. He’s pretty certain the pirates will strike.”
“Pretty certain, Ramon?”
She saw Ramon’s Adam’s apple move as he swallowed hard. “I’ll get to keep the money we’ve already been paid, even if we don’t meet pirates.”
Fatemeh nodded. “At least that’s something.” She stood and looked out the window again. “Be safe, Ramon. I’ll say a prayer of protection for you.” As she spoke, she considered there might be a more direct way to look out for the man she loved.
<< >>
Ramon stood by the rail of the Stockton, looking out at the vast expanse of ocean. Having grown up in New Mexico, he had never seen so much water in his life. He’d been afraid he might feel seasick, but the gentle rolling of the ship didn’t bother him at all. The calm seas had been no worse than riding on a horse or in a train. However, the unbroken seascape all around did make him feel somewhat claustrophobic. He was all too aware he stood on the deck of a small ship surrounded by many people.
Still, he felt somewhat relieved to have some time away from Fatemeh. He felt a prickle of guilt at that thought—he did love her, after all. However, he was still glad to have some time alone with his own thoughts, to think about the events of the past few months and evaluate their relationship. The voyage gave him some time to consider whether he was ready to settle down and spend the rest of his life with her.
He turned his attention to the afterdeck and saw Captain Mercer watching the horizon. The stout man wore a blue Navy coat and black captain’s cap. His cheeks were covered by gray, bristly sideburns. Standing behind the captain was the lanky form of Bryan Burke. Ramon’s own concerns about the voyage had been put at ease when he saw the railroad man would accompany them. Ramon doubted Burke would put himself into more danger than necessary to protect the railroad’s interests.
Black smoke poured from a single stack amidships. A steam engine below decks turned the two paddle wheels—one on each side of the ship. The ship also sported three masts. Ramon didn’t know much about ships, but assumed sails could be deployed from the spars if the engine broke down. Lookouts stood in crow’s nests at the top of each of the masts.
The boatswain appeared on the Stockton’s afterdeck and blew his shrill whistle. The first watch of the day was over. A man pushed past Ramon and began climbing up the lines next to him. Ramon looked up, glad he was spared that duty. He noticed the man climbing down from the crow’s nest didn’t seem as dexterous as the man going up. The one coming down took his time and his foot reached around and searched for the ropes below more than other sailors. Finally, the sailor reached the deck. He started to move past Ramon just as the ship lurched and the two bumped into each other.
“Sorry,” apologized the sailor in a surprisingly familiar high-pitched voice.
Ramon looked up and blinked at the quickly retreating, olive-skinned sailor. He noticed long black hair tied back and tucked under the shirt collar. Ramon rushed forward and blocked the sailor’s path. His mouth dropped open when he realized he was looking into familiar green eyes. “Fatemeh?”
Her cheeks flushed red and she grinned sheepishly. “Hi, Ramon.”
“What are you doing here?” Ramon looked up and saw that several sailors were beginning to take notice. He took her by the arm and led her back to where he’d been standing by the ship’s rail.
“I wanted to come along and make sure you stayed safe.” She shrugged. “Also, it allows us to make a little extra money from this voyage.”
“How in the world did you get hired as a sailor?”
“When I came to America from Persia, some of the men showed me how to handle sails and climb the rigging into the crow’s nests.” She inclined her head. “I’m not as good as all the men on the ship, but I’m good enough that I was able to get a rating as an able seaman.”
Ramon opened his mouth to say more, but was interrupted when one of the lookouts shouted from above. “Ship off the port bow!”
Looking up, Ramon saw the captain open a telescope and begin scanning the horizon. He turned around and thought he could make out a black cloud in the distance. He realized he must be seeing smoke from another ship.
“Is there something between us and the other ship?” Fatemeh pointed toward the smoke on the horizon.
Ramon tried to see where she was pointing. After a moment, he caught sight of white, roiling water, like a ship’s wake moving rapidly toward them. However, he couldn’t see any signs of a ship or a boat. “What’s going on? Is it an invisible ship or something?”
“I don’t think so. Look closer.”
Ramon held up his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. There was something dark, very low to the water—maybe just below the surface of the water—generating the wake. “Maybe it’s a whale or a dolphin.”
“If it’s a whale, it’s the fastest one I’ve ever seen.”
Ramon nodded. “I’d better go tell the captain.” He ran back to ship’s stern and climbed the ladder to the afterdeck where Mr. Burke towered over Captain Mercer.
“The ship is definitely coming toward us,” said the captain, peering through the telescope.
“Do you think it’s the pirates?” asked Burke.
The captain grunted. “We’ll soon see.”
“Captain,” called Ramon as he stepped up to the two men, “there’s something between us and that ship, down in the water and approaching fast.” He pointed.
The captain turned his telescope toward the place where Ramon pointed. “What the blazes?”
Burke inclined his head. “There’s steam coming from the water’s surface.”
Ramon looked around again. The dark shape in the water was closer and he could see white clouds of vapor billowing just over the water.
The captain gritted his teeth and slammed his telescope shut. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that’s a submersible, like the Hunley back in the war.” He turned toward his first officer. “Beat to quarters, action stations.”
The mate nodded and stepped forward calling out, “Action stations!”
A boy—Ramon guessed he must be about thirteen years old—rushed to a locker near the ship’s stern. He opened it and retrieved a drum and two sticks. He began beating out a martial rhythm. Armed crewmen rushed out from below decks and lined the rails. Ramon caught sight of Fatemeh near one of the masts. He climbed down from the afterdeck and went to her. “You better get below decks.”
Before she could respond, there was a loud crash and the ship listed over to the side. Looking up, Ramon noticed the portside paddle wheel no longer turned. There was a cry of “All stop!” from the afterdeck. With both wheels stopped, the ship settled upright in the water. Ramon rushed to the rail and saw the dark shape in the water pulling back. It turned and made a wide arc toward the ship’s stern. Ramon drew his revolver and fired two shots. Both made a loud clang and a whistle as they hit the metal of the thing in the water and ricocheted.
Ramon rushed back to the ship’s stern and ascended the ladder. Just as he reached the top, there was another crash. He nearly toppled back down, but held on. The man at the ship’s wheel cursed. “They’ve broken the rudder. We’ve lost helm control!”
/> Ramon stepped up next to the captain. The other ship was nearly upon them. He could just make out the ship’s name, Tiburón—Spanish for shark.
“With no helm and no engines, we’re sitting ducks,” said the captain. He turned to the first mate. “Prepare to repel boarders.”
The first mate bellowed out the order. Ramon felt the level of tension on the ship increase. He drew his revolver, snapped open the cylinder, and replaced the two cartridges he’d already fired.
As the Tiburón came alongside, men on the other ship hurled grappling hooks on ropes and grabbed onto the Stockton’s rails. Ramon took careful aim and picked off one of the men on the other ship. The rest of the pirates ducked below the rail with curses and a few exclamations of surprise. Ramon’s brow creased as he began to wonder just how experienced these pirates actually were.
Orders were shouted and three of the pirates leapt to their feet, wielding six-guns. The captain, Burke and Ramon all hit the deck as a hail of bullets flew over their heads. When they looked up, pirates were swinging across from the Tiburón to the Stockton. Some of the Stockton’s men fired at the pirates. Two of the buccaneers were hit and fell from the lines, but others landed on the decks. In the close quarters of the ship’s decks, the pirates drew knives and flailed them at the men. Others simply waded in with their fists. Ramon went to the afterdeck rail and tried to get a clear shot. He saw one lone pirate and fired, cutting him down, but others turned their attention toward him.
“Uh oh,” said Ramon. He ducked as one of the pirates pulled a revolver and fired up at him. By the time he lifted his head, he saw pirates swarming over the afterdeck. Two pirates rushed forward and grabbed the captain’s arms. Ramon tried to raise his pistol, but another pirate knocked it from his grip. He put up his hands.
Below, two pirates lowered a rope ladder over the side of the ship. Ramon saw the black shape of the strange submarine craft come to the surface. A hatch popped open on the top and a man emerged. As the man climbed the ladder, Ramon noticed that he seemed strangely out of place, wearing the attire of a gentleman. He wore a white shirt and a bright blue silk vest. Around his neck was a black cravat. The only anachronisms were the denim pants common to sailors and a black hat similar to the one Captain Mercer wore.
“Well, it would seem this ship wasn’t all we were led to believe,” said the man who had appeared from the submersible. He turned and ascended the ladder to the afterdeck. “Who’s in charge here?”
“I am Captain John Mercer of the USS Stockton.” The captain struggled in the grip of the pirates who held him. “I demand you release my ship.”
“You are not in a position to demand anything.” The dapper pirate waved his hand. “I’m guessing this ship is not carrying the silver and gold I expected to find heading for China. However, I see quite a fine cargo of ammunition. That would do nicely in exchange for your life, Captain.”
With a nod of his head, the pirate captain sent members of his crew below decks to see what they could find. A moment after they left, a pirate led one of the Stockton’s crew up the ladder. Ramon’s breath caught and a knot formed in his stomach when he saw it was Fatemeh. Her shirt had been ripped and he could discern the soft swell of her breast.
“Ah, it would seem the Stockton transports other things of value besides ammunition,” said the pirate captain with undisguised delight.
“No!!” shouted Ramon. The back of his head exploded with pain and everything went black.
<< >>
Fatemeh was taken aboard the Tiburón and locked in a small, but nicely appointed cabin. There was a bed—more comfortable than the hammock she had aboard the Stockton. There were some books on the shelf. She took one and leafed through the pages. It was written in Spanish. On the cabin’s small desk was a locked box. She picked it up and found it was rather heavy and rattled. Looking around, she saw a trunk. Opening it, she found shirts and pants. She removed her shirt, torn in the scuffle with the pirate crew, and put on one of the shirts she found.
Opening the cabin’s window, she saw she was on the opposite side of the pirate ship from the Stockton. She lay down on the bed and listened to the sounds of the pirates scuffling on the deck above and outside her door. She tried to discern exactly what they were doing. Loud bumps and thumps came from different parts of the ship and she could imagine cargo being secured. She wondered if the submersible was stowed aboard the ship or traveled alongside.
The engines soon fired up and she thought the ship moved. Kneeling on the bed, she craned her head as far out of the window as she could and saw the Stockton receding in the distance. She hoped Ramon was going to be okay—he had taken a nasty blow to the back of the head. She lay back on the bed, chewed her lower lip, and wondered what was going to happen next.
The sky was darkening when someone rapped at the door. A key rattled in the lock and a sailor in a torn and bloodstained shirt looked in. He said something in Spanish and gestured with his hand. She gathered she was supposed to follow and it appeared he was being polite rather than demanding.
Fatemeh followed the sailor to a cabin at the ship’s stern. He opened the door. Inside, a table was laid out with a sumptuous meal. There was meat in a rich, brown sauce, a cauldron of soup, a bowl with beans, and a basket that appeared filled with tortillas. The ship’s captain sat at the head of the table. He stood and held out a chair. “I am Captain Onofre Cisneros. Welcome to the Tiburón.”
“Thank you.” Fatemeh entered the cabin and the sailor closed the door behind her.
“Do you like your cabin?”
“I do, thank you.” Fatemeh sat in the chair held by the captain. “I hope I’m not putting its owner to any discomfort.”
The captain returned to his seat at the head of the table. “I’m afraid he won’t be needing it again. The cabin belonged to my first mate and he was killed today.” He looked down at his lap and sniffed. He took a deep breath and blew it out, then looked up again.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
The captain shrugged, then reached out for a flask of wine. “I suppose it’s expected when you engage in piracy.” He poured a glass of wine for Fatemeh and then one for himself.
“You suppose?” Fatemeh’s gaze narrowed. “From what I was told, you’ve been menacing ships for quite some time.”
Captain Cisneros laughed outright. “Is that what you were told?”
Fatemeh sat back and thought about what she had seen. The pirates were not well armed. They only had a few knives and pistols. “You weren’t expecting the kind of resistance you met on the Stockton, were you?”
“I should have known better.” Captain Cisneros lifted the glass and took a drink. “After taking two ships easily, I should have expected heavier resistance with the third.”
“You’ve only taken two ships?” When the captain didn’t answer, Fatemeh lifted her own glass and took a drink. She nodded appreciatively. “I don’t normally drink alcohol, but this wine is quite good.”
“It is made from grapes that grow near my home in Ensenada.” Cisneros reached out and spooned some of the meat in brown sauce onto his plate. “Try the chicken molé. My cook outdoes himself.”
Fatemeh took the dish and served herself.
Cisneros leaned forward. “What else have you been told about me and my pirates?”
“Only that you somehow disable ships without firing a shot.”
“Nothing about the submersible?”
“No.”
The captain’s eyebrows came together. He looked down at his plate and shook his head. Fatemeh sensed that Cisneros was frustrated.
“These raids...they’re not really about piracy, or even gold, are they?” Cisneros remained silent, so Fatemeh ventured another guess. “You’re trying to get attention for your submarine craft, aren’t you?”
Cisneros retrieved a tortilla, then took a sip of the wine. “Ten years ago—when Emperor Maximillian was on the throne—I owned a gold mine in Sonora. I had a number of wealthy French inves
tors and I did quite well for myself.” He took a bite of the chicken in molé sauce and took another sip of wine. “However, Mexican resistance to the French proved too costly and they finally withdrew. I was afraid my mine would be seized by President Juárez’s soldiers, so I took what money I could and fled to Ensenada.” He took a bite of his tortilla. “I always loved the sea.”
Fatemeh took a tentative taste of the chicken molé. Her first impression was chocolate, then hot spices danced on her tongue. She washed it down with a sip of wine. “So you turned to piracy to make a living?”
The captain pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not really. You see, when I still had the mine, I came across plans for a submarine vessel from Spain called the Ictíneo. It was built by an inventor named Narcís Monturiol i Estarrol. Even before I was a mine owner, I was an engineer. Estarrol’s plans fascinated me and I wondered if I could improve on his design. I hoped I could sell it to the Mexican Navy. However, by the time I finished the craft, President Tejada wasn’t interested.”
Fatemeh nodded. “From what I’ve heard about submarine boats, they’re rather dangerous aren’t they? The Hunley was lost with all hands during the American Civil War.” Her stomach rumbled and she took a portion of beans.
“The Hunley was a poor design. The men only had the air aboard that was there when they closed the hatches.” The captain shook his head. “Estarrol solved that problem by inventing a chemical reaction steam engine. My Legado uses the same type of engine. Fuel rods create a chemical reaction that heats the water. Oxygen is released as the fuel rods are used up. You can stay under water as long as you have fuel.”
“Legado?” asked Fatemeh around a forkful of beans.
“That’s the name of my submarine vessel. The English word is legacy.” The captain took another sip of wine. “Anyway, when the Mexican government refused to buy the Legado, I was left with no money. I had to find a way to recoup my investment.”
“But why piracy?” Fatemeh narrowed her gaze.
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