by Linda Ladd
"Enriquez would be obligated to bargain for their release would he not, Roger?" Trey asked, but Roger's ruddy face remained somber.
"Nay, the scum might offer to pay a goodly sum in gold for them, but he would not give up the lad. The Alexander name has plagued him for too long and has cost him too much in treasure and humiliation. Only Diego would get Christian away from him."
Trey glanced in Caitlin's direction again, wondering if their conversation upset her, or if she even heard it.
"If he will not trade Christian, then what is left to us?" Richard asked, looking at one, then the other. Silence reigned for several moments before Trey answered.
"If he refuses a trade, then all we can do is plan a rescue. Santiago was sacked successfully by Morgan and others, so it is not invincible. We have too few men for an all-out assault, but we might have a chance if we hit them quickly and with surprise. In any case, the odds are against us getting Christian out alive."
"There is another way."
The quiet voice came from Caitlin's place in the shadows. The men looked in her direction as she stood, letting the blanket fall forgotten on the bed behind her. She walked to the table and stood beside Trey, one hand resting on his shoulder. Her face still bore the signs of the day's battle, and her eyes were swollen from weeping. But her chin was at that determined angle so very well known to all three of the men who watched her. She picked up the parchment lying in front of Roger and held it up, clutched tightly in her right hand.
"This is a decree by Philip of Anjou himself, ordering Christian's return to Seville," she began slowly, as if channeling her thoughts as she spoke. "And we have it right here. We also have the galleon upon which Christian was to have been transported to Spain."
Trey's eyes narrowed, perceiving at once the gist of her idea, but Caitlin went on, her voice becoming more animated as her plan took form in her mind.
"It introduces a woman as emissary, one apparently unknown to Enriquez. I could be that woman, and the rest of you could act as the captain and crew of the Bella! We could sail boldly into the Santiago harbor and bring out Christian beneath Enriquez's very nose!"
Roger sat up, the specter of a smile touching his lips. "'Tis reckless, lass, but it could very well work for us."
Trey began to shake his head. "No, it is entirely too dangerous—"
"I speak fluent Spanish," Caitlin interrupted as if she had not heard him, her dark gold eyes gleaming with excitement. "And I know the ways of the Spanish, as do Roger and most of our crew! It will work, I know it! As Doña Marta, I can free Christian without a drop of blood spilled!"
"You cannot be sure of that, dammit," Trey said firmly, his eyes catching Caitlin's with a look meant to give her pause. "One slip and all of us would be trapped in the harbor under the guns of the fortresses. We'd be blown out of the water. It would never work!"
"A similar masquerade worked when you captured me," Caitlin reminded him softly. "It can again."
"This it totally different, and you know it," Trey said, shaking his head incredulously. "Think a minute, Caitlin. Think about what you are suggesting. It would be suicide to sail blithely into a fortified enemy harbor, in broad daylight, no less."
Caitlin ignored him. "Are you with me, Roger?"
Roger's eyes met Trey's, but his answer was firm.
"Aye, lass, for the lad."
Richard noticed the anger slowly mottling Trey's face. Caitlin, however, looked only relieved.
Then we will do it ourselves. I will search through Doña Marta's trunks for a suitable gown—"
A loud bang interrupted her as Trey brought his doubled fist down hard on the tabletop. The dishes rattled, but silence hung heavy as he spoke in a low, tightly controlled voice.
"Dammit, Caitlin, I will not allow you to do it."
The two second officers braced themselves for the storm that was about to erupt. Both were surprised when Caitlin answered, her words gentle.
"He is my brother, Trey. I have to do something." Her eyes implored understanding, but her next statement belied any capitulation to his demands.
"Since there is no other feasible plan, I intend to sail into Santiago on the Bella. I want you with me, but I will go alone if I have to."
Trey clenched his jaw as she calmly defied him to his face, but if he had learned anything in the past year with Caitlin, it was that once she made up her mind, nothing would stop her. Only by physical re-straint could he stop this reckless plan of hers, especially now that Roger backed her. And he could never do that. She would go, regardless, and he could not let her go into such danger alone.
"All right," he finally conceded through set teeth. "But not alone. I go as well."
Caitlin broke into a happy smile. "Thank you, Trey. Now I know we can do it." She scraped out a chair beside him, her eyes intense. "They will never suspect such a bold move on our part, and that will be in our favor."
"What if Enriquez recognizes you?" Trey asked abruptly. "He has seen you before."
Caitlin shook her head. "I was a mere child then. I have changed much in the last six years, and I will look very different dressed in the attire of a Spanish lady." She went on, looking at Roger. "We will have to dress our men in the uniforms of the Bella's crew, and from the distance of the shore or the castle walls they will look genuine enough. Only Trey and myself need go ashore to meet with Enriquez. Did I not hear you say a Frenchman was captured today?"
Richard nodded. "He was, along with the credentials of his office."
Caitlin smiled with satisfaction. "You speak fluent French as well as Spanish, Trey, you could carry out the masquerade and remain at my side the entire time."
"But how can we get Christian out?" Richard ventured, intrigued despite Trey's dark look. "He would not release him upon your arrival, and the longer you and Trey remain inside the castle, the greater the risk of discovery."
Trey had been listening silently, still against Cait-lin's idea, especially with Caitlin playing the most dangerous role. Before he would let her go in, he would make certain their plans were laid with great care and every possible development covered by exigency plans.
"Once in El Morro," he said, "we can tell them that we have heard rumors that the real Christian Alexander is still aboard the Anna. If we can convince him of that, he will want to prove he has him and I can request him brought to us. That way we can meet him in a private chamber with only a guard or two present. If we're not allowed to see him, we will have to effect a rescue while the castle sleeps."
Caitlin smiled gratefully at him, relieved that he seemed ready to accept her plan. "Of course, and we can flee to the nearby village of Guayos, where we have friends. Is that not right, Roger?"
"Aye, they hate Enriquez enough to help us in any way we ask."
"Good," Caitlin said, looking back to Trey. "Then Richard can take most of the men aboard the Glory and await us in the mouth of the San Juan River; it is barely two miles down the coast from Santiago. If we take Christian out by land, we can go there and make our escape to sea."
"What about those who came in on the Bella?" Richard asked, and Roger spoke up.
"A skeleton crew is all we need to navigate the galleon into the harbor. I know the way to Guayos. I can lead them out after dark has fallen."
"It will take a few days to repair the damage to the Bella," Caitlin said, "but that will give us more time to work out our plans."
The men nodded, all growing more confident as the rescue began to take its final shape. They continued their discussion late into the night, but when the meeting broke up and the other two men clomped out to put their orders into motion, Trey felt an icy touch of fear. Despite the thoroughness of their deliberations, too many things could go wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Caitlin stood in the sumptuous cabin of Doña Marta Torrez, sardonically surveying the elaborate gold velvet draping the walls and the priceless Persian carpet cushioning the floor. Such quarters were resplendent enough for roy
alty, and she smiled to think of the haughty Spanish woman now confined in one of the small berths of the Glory. Her attention settled on a large mahogany traveling trunk with silver handles, which sat at the foot of a small poster bed. She crossed the cabin and knelt before it. Inside, she found several expensive gowns of the finest fabrics, but she chose one of black silk, lifting it out along with an ornate black stomacher set with pure gold and rubies.
Caitlin moved to a standing mirror in one corner and held it in front of her. It seemed a close fit, and she slipped out of her shirt and breeches, certainly not relishing the idea of donning such garments. Spanish women were forced into even more severe and confining fashions than their English counterparts, and Caitlin sighed as she stepped into the first heavy satin petticoat and tied it around her waist.
The silk gown came next and was a trifle large, but the stomacher would hide the excess at her waist. She concentrated on the tedious task of lacing the stiff stomacher, not wanting to think of the coming hours. When she had finished that task, she stood very still, staring at her reflection garbed in the high-necked, long-sleeved gown. Her hair looked wrong, the bright color glaringly noticeable against such severe attire. She did not want Enriquez's memory tugged by the color of her hair. A sick feeling uncurled in her belly and slithered up her throat at the thought of meeting her father's murderer face-to-face.
She was appalled at the trembling that shook her hands as she tried to fashion her hair in a heavy coil at her nape. The resulting effect was most Spanish, and she picked up a long black onyx comb, its diamonds winking in the dusky light from the porthole as she slid it down into the thick chignon. A black lace mantilla was draped over a chair nearby, and her skirt rustled softly in the quiet room as she retrieved it. She carefully draped the veil over the comb, arranging it to hide most of her hair, then nodded with satisfaction at her new appearance. All that was missing was a crucifix, and she hastily rummaged through a velvet-lined box containing emerald pendants and ropes of pearls, choosing a plain gold cross with a thin chain. She reached back to attach it around her neck, then froze as a distant boom filtered through the silence.
Her face paled as five other shots came at short intervals. It was the salute of welcome from the guns of El Morro, and she covered her mouth with her hand as fear threatened her composure. She clasped her hands together as the guns of the Bella conducted an answering salute, knowing that she must get a grip on her fears. If Trey knew just how afraid she was, he would never let her go, and she had to go. Taking several deep and cleansing breaths, she put her hand on the door handle, then moved into the passageway.
Topdecks, Trey was waiting for her, and his blue eyes moved briefly over her attire before coming back to meet her eyes. He wore his own clothes, an elegant black velvet coat and trousers atop a white shirt and neatly folded cravat, but the blue satin sash of ambassadorship was draped diagonally across his gold brocade waistcoat to his sword belt.
He crossed to her, and Caitlin held her nerves in check as his fingers closed over her arm.
"It is not too late for you to stay aboard here with Roger. I can meet Enriquez. Don't put yourself through this."
Caitlin shook her head, though her stomach fluttered with queasiness as she looked out over the water to where the massive gray granite fortifications of El Morro Castle guarded the entrance to the Santiago de Cuba harbor. Chills rose, but so did her resolve.
"No, we have a better chance of getting to Christian with the letters of introduction. I will be all right."
Trey looked down at the tension in her face, remembering the vivid terror in her eyes when she had awakened screaming, remembering the trembling of her body in his arms after a mere dream about the man she was about to confront. His worry increased as a light easterly propelled them ever closer to the harbor entrance.
An air of tense expectancy gripped the English seamen dressed in Spanish uniforms as the Bella glided down the long narrow channel where several other forts lay at strategic points. Rows of cannon watched their progress with deadly black eyes, and at the point where the water scarcely scanned sixty yards, they could see the faces of the Spaniards manning the walls. Caitlin stared up at the forested walls of the Sierra Maestra mountains falling sheer to the sea on both sides of them, and a shudder rose from the base of her spine. As they penetrated deeper into the deadly corridor to the city, terrifying memories grew stronger, the rolling drums, her own grief- stricken screams, and, worst of all, the whistle of the ax descending before it was stopped by a grotesque and final thud.
Caitlin wet parched lips, fearing what months imprisoned in the Spanish dungeon had done to Christian. The tales of the terrible conditions and tortures within the dank and slimy walls of El Morro Castle were legend in the pirate strongholds and waterfront towns all over the Indies, and Caitlin knew better than anyone the cruelty of Don Pedro de Enriquez.
Icy knots tied and untied inside her as the men around her furled the sails and eased the ship to berth against a tall stone quay. Roger shouted orders in Spanish, and Trey leaned down and squeezed Caitlin's hand before he left her to walk quickly to where a gangplank was being positioned to shore.
The harborfront was active and bustling, many vendors displaying their wares in open booths along the wharf for seamen and passengers starved for fresh fruit and warm bread. African slaves unloaded a French merchantman nearby, and Trey was thankful for the busy atmosphere around them, which would help to keep their arrival less noticeable. He turned his head as a retinue of horsemen clattered across the stones toward them. All were dressed in black-and-gold uniforms with while bandoliers criss-crossing their chests, and an empty carriage rattled and jounced as it was driven along behind them.
Trey tensed, glancing at Caitlin as he kept his hand near his sword. She was standing very straight, her chin high, her look as haughty as that of the highest-born lady of Spanish nobility, but he knew the real test would be the actual encounter with Enriquez himself. He watched as the leader of the soldiers swung off his horse and stepped forward to meet him.
A Spaniard climbed the gangplank with quick, erect strides, then gave an equally stiff bow, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He looked to be in his middle twenties, with a slim build and swarthy complexion, and he brought the heels of his shiny black boots together with a sharp click.
"I am Capitan Rodrigo de Silva," he said in clipped Spanish. "I have brought escort for Don Diego de Enriquez."
Trey inclined his head. "I am Jacques LeConte, ambassador for His Majesty Louis of France. I am to travel on to my post in Havana."
His Spanish was nearly as fluent as the Spaniard's, and the young officer's face showed no suspicion as Trey went on.
"I am sorry to report that Don Pedro's son Diego was detained in Seville, and another emissary has been sent in his place."
Rodrigo de Silva frowned, but a rustle of silk drew his attention from Trey, and his brown eyes widened as one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen smiled up into his eyes.
"Ah, Capitan, you are disappointed to find me here, instead of Diego. I am most distressed you find me wanting."
She batted long long sooty lashes in a most coquettish way, and if Trey were not so aware of her danger, he would have been furious with her. The young man who was the object of her attentions, however, flushed hotly and stuttered out his reply.
"Señora, please believe that I find myself overwhelmed by your beauty."
Caitlin gave a musical laugh, and Trey relaxed slightly as the young man smiled vacuously at her.
"His Excellency has sent a carriage with the in vitation for the captain of the Bella to join him," Rodrigo said, his eyes still lingering on Caitlin's face. "It is the feast day of Santa Maria, and the El Morro has been opened for festivities."
Caitlin smiled. "That sounds most delightful, Capitan."
Trey spoke up quickly, gesturing around the deck with his arm. "As you can see, we have been attacked by English pirates. I am most sorry to inform you that
our captain was killed, as were many of our crew."
"The governor will be very angry at this news, but he is most anxious to see his son and will be very disappointed that he has not come upon the Bella. If you please, we should return at once so that I can bear him the news."
De Silva stood back as Caitlin put her hand on Trey's arm to be led down to the waiting conveyance. She settled back into the tufted burgundy cushions, looking to where Roger stood on the sterncastle. He nodded to Caitlin, and she knew that in a matter of hours the Bella would be abandoned, her crew making their way to the designated meeting place in the old square of the city.
The small carriage dipped slightly as Trey climbed in and sat beside her, and the guards closed in around them as the driver slapped the reins and they rolled forward.
"De Silva does not suspect us," Caitlin said in low tones, smiling at the young captain as he turned for the fifth time to look admiringly in her direction.
"He is too interested in you to suspect anything," Trey replied, his eyes busy, gauging distances and landmarks as they passed through the hilly cobbled streets hugged by long white stucco houses with red- tiled roofs and hanging pots of geraniums. If they were discovered while in Santiago, he wanted to know a way out. The streets were very crowded with peasants, most in the white tunics and loose trousers common in Spanish settlements, and many carried bright banners or busily stacked firewood in readiness for the night's celebration.
"The feast day will act to our advantage," Trey murmured softly, and when Caitlin didn't answer, he looked at her. Her face was white and drawn, her eyes closed tightly, and he quickly put his hand over hers.
"What is it, Caitlin? Are you all right?"
Caitlin opened her eyes, forcing away memories of the other time she had been driven to El Morro, huddled in a creaking cart while jeering crowds mocked them and pelted them with rotten vegetables.
"Nothing," she said, gritting her teeth.
Trey was not appeased; her fingers were like ice. "You can plead illness and return to the ship, Caitlin. I don't think you can go through with it."