Isle of Broken Years

by Jane Fletcher

  What then? Sam gave a rueful smile. Given the dangers of a sailor’s life in the Caribbean, it was not worth worrying about. What chance she would live that long? And no matter which way she viewed it, her future held no place for a woman like Catalina.

  Sam yawned—time to sleep. Her hammock was waiting for her below deck, but the night was warm, with no risk of rain. The air was clean and fresh, and she would not have Heinrich’s snoring to deal with. In fact, it would be surprising if she was the only one spending the night under the stars.

  Sam rolled onto her side, using a coil of rope as a pillow. Images of Catalina slid through her thoughts. Sam had been told her own eyes were hazel, and could seem either brown or green, depending on the light. Catalina’s were ice blue—rare for a Spaniard, although far from unique. A wintry blast from them could freeze the heart beating in Sam’s chest. Yet they were the feature most often filling Sam’s nights. At least dreaming was safe.

  Sam’s eyelids closed, but before she could drift off, a murmur of voices roused her. The words were just slurred enough to suggest the speakers had been drinking.

  “Are you mad? The captain will throw a fit.”

  “So what if he does?”

  “You want to be marooned?”

  “He can’t do it, not over this. I know the articles. All he can do is challenge me to a duel.”

  Sam turned her head, straining to catch the whispers. Even without recognizing his voice, she could have guessed the last speaker was Jacob. Everyone knew he thought he had a shot at becoming captain.

  The case was not clear-cut mutiny. Privateers could vote to pick a new captain, if discontent became too strong. To date, Jacob’s attempts had floundered on the rocks. Mainly because nobody thought he could do a better job than Captain Williams. Jacob was a reckless fighter who believed the best answer to every problem was a sword, as now, in talking of a duel. The captain’s strength was brains, not muscle. He might well lose if it came to a swordfight, but Sam’s money would go on him outmaneuvering Jacob before a weapon was drawn.

  “Are you sure?” a third person asked.

  “Yes. It’s not disobeying orders in a battle. It’s not stealing from a crewmate. It doesn’t risk the ship. There’s nothing in the articles to say we can’t drill any woman we capture.”

  Sam barely restrained a gasp. Of course. She should have guessed. His dick was the only thing Jacob liked more than his sword, and with both, he always wanted to be sticking it into someone.

  Jacob continued. “We drill her now, and all Ned can do is challenge me, man to man.”

  “Some of the lads are keen on the ransom money.”

  “So am I, but once Don Silverarse has coughed up, there’s nothing he can do about it. He’ll get her back alive. He should be grateful for that. Ned plays it too safe. The lads will be happy to vote for me if I let them have some fun first.”

  Sam was sure he was wrong. The crew would still not vote for Jacob, but whether or not his plans were doomed was irrelevant. By the time they fell apart, it would be too late for Catalina.

  “What about the guard outside her door?”

  “Not a problem. Dan’s on watch tonight. And he’s with us.” Jacob exhaled in a humorless laugh. “So come on. What are you waiting for?”

  The voices were from the main deck, directly below Sam. She lifted her head and looked around. The only other person in sight was the night helmsman on the poop deck, a silhouette against the stars. He was farther away and might not have overheard. Or he might be in with Jacob as well.

  Making enemies on board was never a good idea, and Jacob was the sort to hold a grudge. The sensible thing was to lie down, go to sleep, and pretend she had heard nothing. Sam caught her lower lip in her teeth. There was no way she could stick with being sensible, but this did not mean she had to be stupid.

  Sam crept down the ladder. Her bare feet made no sound on the rungs. Jacob and his friends were gone, and faint candlelight glowed from the passage under the quarterdeck. She inched forward, keeping to the deepest patches of shadow, and peered around the corner. Four men stood outside the door to Catalina’s cabin, whispering, their heads close together, Jacob put his hand on the latch.

  Sam had to act, and quickly. Shouting, What are you doing? would work. Captain Williams’s cabin was at the end of the same passage, and he was a notoriously light sleeper. It would also earn Sam bruises in the days ahead, if not a knife in the back. Was she willing to put her own life on the line? Of course, if Catalina woke up and started screaming, there was no need to do anything.

  Jacob slipped into the room, followed by his friends. Sam closed her eyes, praying for Catalina to call out. Slow seconds rolled by. The only sounds were the waves against the hull, the wind in the sails, and then a rustle of feathers followed by the soft boowk-bok-bok of a dozing chicken.

  Food supplies on ship were holding out well. Currently, the hens were only supplying eggs to the galley. Although, by the time the Golden Goose returned to port, the hencoop would be empty, and everyone would have dined on roast chicken. Maybe the hens knew this, because they were the most bad-tempered birds Sam ever had the misfortune of meeting. Unfortunately, feeding them was one of the cabin boy’s duties.

  Sam knelt by the coop and fumbled for the catch. The faint clink when the flap opened and the squeak of the hinge roused the hens. Sam heard them stirring as she reached inside. The first chicken bobbed away from her touch, but the second was not so quick. She placed the hen on the deck and pushed it away when it tried to get back in, which went to prove that chickens were plain contrary. Normally, they were only too eager to escape.

  By the time Sam released four hens, the remaining birds were excited enough to make their own bids for freedom, and the ones already out were becoming noisier as they scrabbled around, investigating anything that looked edible. She had done enough. Maybe half a minute had passed since the would-be rapists entered Catalina’s cabin. Sam was not willing to allow them any longer.

  She scuttled back to the quarterdeck. The silhouette of the helmsman had not moved. Had he seen her, or was he too focused on his job? Of course, he might even be asleep. If so, he would not be the only crewman to doze off at the wheel.

  It was time to interrupt Jacob’s plans. Sam made a show of leaping to her feet, and then shouted at the top of her voice. “HEY! THE HENS HAVE ESCAPED!”

  The helmsman lurched to one side and almost fell. So he had been asleep.

  Sam leapt down to the main deck. “THE HENS ARE LOOSE!”

  For the first time ever, two chickens chose to help Sam. They started a fight and the angry squawks set off the rest of the birds. Then sailors who had been sleeping in the forecastle awoke. Someone threw a hatch open with a bang. The noise level was rising by the second.

  Sam turned to the passage, ready to run down it, banging on the cabins. Before she could enter, the door at the end opened and Captain Williams appeared, holding a lantern. The light sent a hen squawking down the passage. It escaped between Sam’s legs and fluttered into the rigging.

  “The hens—”

  “I heard you before, lad.”

  “I have to…” Sam paused. Would Jacob and his friends try to stay hidden in Catalina’s cabin? What excuse could she use to ensure he was disturbed?

  But there was no need. Captain Williams was sharp enough to spot the missing guard. He strode the few steps and threw the door open. Sam sidled along the passage and peered around him. Had she been quick enough?

  The five people in the room were frozen in place, looking at Captain Williams. To Sam’s relief, the men were fully dressed and buttoned up, and Catalina still had on a long white sleeping gown. The rest of the news was not so good. Dan stood behind Catalina, holding her. One hand was clamped over her mouth and the other held a knife to her throat. The remaining three men backed away.

  Captain Williams rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If I was to ask what’s going on, do you think you could come up with some entertaining stori
es for me?”

  Jacob did not miss a beat. “Yes, Cap’n. We were on the main deck chatting when we saw Dan take out his knife and sneak into the lady’s cabin. We thought he was hoping to play in and out with her, so we came to stop him. But he got the lady and, well…you see how things stand.”

  Dan’s expression shifted through surprise to outrage. “No. It weren’t like that.”

  “Then how about you let go of the lady and tell me how it was?” Captain Williams’s tone gave no clue whether he had bought Jacob’s story.

  “It weren’t my idea. It was his.” Dan pointed at Jacob, using the knife. “He said we could all—”

  As soon as the blade moved from her throat, Catalina rammed her elbow back into Dan’s gut. She dived forward, breaking free from his grasp.

  Jacob was only a fraction slower. He charged into Dan, slamming him against the wall behind. The knife slipped through Dan’s fingers, but before it could drop, Jacob tore it free and plunged it into Dan’s chest.

  Blood welled as a dark stain on Dan’s shirt. “It weren’t like…” He fell to his knees, gasping. “No. It—”

  Jacob grabbed a fistful of Dan’s hair, pulled his head back, and sliced his throat open. The spray of blood coated Catalina, who shrieked, either in disgust or horror. In the following hush, Dan’s body hit the floor with a thud. A dark pool beneath him spread.

  “Shame that. I was looking forward to hearing the rest of his story.” Captain Williams blew out his cheeks. “I guess we need to talk this over tomorrow. Jacob, I’d like to hear again how you went to help this lady preserve her virtue. And, Sam, you can tell me about how you forgot to lock the hencoop.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.” Of course, blame would come back to Sam. She was the last to tend to the chickens, when she fed them.

  “For now, you can all go and help with the round-up. And the lady can stay in my cabin until this mess is cleaned.”

  “Aye-aye.”

  Out on deck, the hullabaloo had reached storm force. Sam returned to a scene of chaos. Were it not for the absence of gunshot and cannon, she could honesty claim to have witnessed quieter battles. Catching chickens by moonlight was not straightforward, especially when the sailors turned it into a game, laughing and whooping as they dived over barrels, skidded on wet floorboards, and crashed into each other. The capture of each hen was greeted with a deafening cheer, and a victory dance from the catcher.

  In the end, most hens were returned to the coop, although three made a final bid for freedom, jumping over the gunwale to their deaths, proving that chickens were not just contrary, they were also brainless.

  * * *

  “The thing is, you see, Jacob, her ladyship doesn’t remember events quite the same way you do.”

  Jacob shrugged. “She was asleep. What with being woken up like that, Dan jumping on her, in the dark. It’s not surprising she got confused.”

  Sam said nothing. The memory of Dan’s death smothered any temptation to tell her own version.

  Jacob had been so quick to act. Maybe blaming Dan was his fallback plan all along, if things went astray. In which case, he had jumped too quickly. He had not gotten as far as raping Catalina, but still could have stuck to his original goal of pushing Captain Williams into a duel. Except he must have heard the uproar on deck and not had any idea of what was going on. Jacob’s motto—when in doubt, kill someone.

  “Yep. You’re right. That must be it. She’s confused.” Captain Williams nodded slowly, but the look in his eye said he did not believe a word of Jacob’s story. “Still, it turned out all right. We’ve still got a full deck of cards for our game with Don Silverarse. But I’ll have to give more thought to keeping our Queen of Coins safe. Just in case someone else gets ideas. So well done, Jacob. You can go.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  As Jacob turned away, Sam caught a glimpse of his face. Anger and frustration were easy to read. Jacob had boxed himself in. He could not change his story now without admitting to murdering Dan.

  Once they were alone, Captain Williams wandered to the porthole. For a long time he stared out, saying nothing. Sam tried not to fidget.

  “That was a real peculiar turnabout last night, don’t you think, lad?”

  The suddenness of the question made Sam jump. “I guess so.”

  “Dan thinking he could get away with a sneaky game of in and out. Then him being caught by Jacob, of all people.” Captain Williams shook his head. “Have you ever imagined Jacob playing the knight in shining armor, rescuing a damsel in distress?”

  “No.”

  “Nope. Me neither. But if that isn’t strange enough, just when Jacob and his mates are about to tackle Dan, the chickens get out, waking everyone up.” He turned away from the porthole. “Have you ever heard anything like it, lad?”

  “No.”

  “It’s not like you’ve ever forgotten to fasten the hencoop before. But I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I don’t know how it—”

  Captain Williams held up a hand. “You weren’t paying attention. You had your mind on other things. I know. And I’m sure it won’t happen again. We lost three hens, but all things considered, it could have turned out far worse. In fact, I think Lady Luck was on our side last night. So we’ll say no more about it. You did all right.”

  Sam nodded. There was no need to speak. Captain Williams understood everything.

  “So, lad. Since you slipped up with the chickens, I’m going to see if you can do any better with her ladyship. I’m putting you on guard duty. I’ll pick some trusty men to run shifts with you. But I want two guards outside her door, day and night, until we have the ransom in our hold. Your first watch starts now.”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  Sam left the captain’s cabin and walked the few steps to Catalina’s door.

  Birum, one of the African ex-slaves, was on guard duty. He looked hopeful as Sam arrived. “You taking over from me? Can I go?”

  “No. I’m joining you. The captain wants two on watch.”

  “Dammit.” Birum slid down the wall. “Still, now I’ve got someone to chat with.”

  Sam joined him, sitting on the floor. Birum spoke with a heavy, rolling accent, but after years with the privateers, his English was better than many of the Dutch and German crew.

  “I hear Dan tried to drill her last night,” Birum said eventually.

  “Yup. And Jacob stuck him for it.”

  “The cap’n made it clear. Dan should have kept it in his breeches. But that woman, she could send any man’s brain southward. I get a stiff-stander just thinking about her.”

  Sam did not look to check how Birum was faring at the moment.

  He jogged her with his elbow. “So how about you?”

  “She’s, she’s…yup.”

  “Would you like to do the pillow dance with her?”

  What could she say? “Well, I wouldn’t mind, if…you know.”

  Birum gave a roar of laughter. “Dammit. I swear, you’re turning red.” He would not let up. “No surprise, a face like hers, turning a backdoor man into a muff hunter.”

  “I’m not a—”

  Birum elbowed her again. “Ah. It’s nothing to me. Wish there were more of you on board. Makes a shorter queue at the whorehouse when we land.”

  Sam knew about the rumors. Her presumed age was not so young her lack of interest in brothels could go unnoticed. Not that it was an issue for the sailors. After a month at sea, half of them would be humping each other, only to leap on the first available women when they returned to port. In fact, Sam had more trouble avoiding unwanted attention. It was such a routine hazard in a cabin boy’s life, there were even songs about it.

  Still Birum would not let the subject drop. “You should give women a try. It’s not too late to change your mind about things like that.”

  A sound made Sam look up. At the end of the passage, the new recruit, the Spanish cook, was staring at her with an intense b
ut hard to read expression. So far, Alonzo had kept himself very quiet. However, his cooking skills were drawing comments, mainly due to their absence. Even when you allowed for different national tastes, Spanish ships obviously did not expect much in the way of food.

  Despite his age, Alonzo was strong and well-built, yet had shown remarkably little knowledge of life at sea. His cooking skills were matched by his rope craft. He could not tie a clove hitch or a sheepshank to save his life. Even his neatly trimmed beard marked him out from the other sailors. The current betting was that he would be put ashore at the next port and not be let back on.

  Catching her eye, Alonzo gave a weak smile then stepped back, turned, and walked away.

  Birum, however, remained. “When we land, you come with me. I’ll find a good woman who can show you what you’re missing.”

  Sam sighed. Which was worse, Alonzo’s cooking or Birum’s idea of a friendly chat? And how much longer before she got relief from either?

  * * *

  Sam ladled out a dollop of bully stew. It landed with a watery splat and the patter of hard lumps hitting the mess tray. She wrinkled her nose. The smell reminded her of dog’s breath. How difficult could cooking stew be? You soaked hard tack, dried beans, and salt beef until they were soft enough to eat, and added whatever herbs you had to hand. Yet even something this easy was beyond the talents of the so-called cook, standing on the other side of the galley.

  Sam would have liked something better for Catalina’s evening meal, but the noblewoman would have to suffer, along with the sailors. At least the wine was acceptable. Sam was pouring a flagon when the light dimmed. Someone was blocking the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder to see Jacob, with Gilly and Luke at his shoulder.

  Alonzo had also noticed the visitors. Was he worried they had come to complain about dinner? He should be, especially when Jacob fixed on him first.