“Why don’t you go and count beans for a bit?”
“Sí. Yes.” Alonzo took himself into the storeroom.
Sam put down the mess tray and faced the door. Her heart hammered in her chest. All she could think about was blood spraying from Dan’s throat. “You want to talk to me?”
“Just a few words.”
“What about?”
“We could start with the chickens.”
Sam did her best to look innocently regretful. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe someone wanted to help themselves to an extra egg or two after dark.”
“You sure about that?”
“No. Well, I’m sure I fastened the coop after I fed them. And the hens didn’t do it themselves, though the little sods would if they could.” Sam let her expression brighten. “Maybe it was Dan. Maybe he thought he could make a distraction while he did the trick with Doña Catalina.”
Sam would not have dared try a line like that with Captain Williams, but Jacob did not have the captain’s sharp ear. He merely scowled. “Maybe. Anyhow, the captain has put you on guard duty.”
“Yes. Sixteen hours a day. I’m sick of it, I tell you.”
Jacob entered the galley. Sam felt her guts turn to ice. He stood so close Sam could feel his breath on her cheek. Did he have a knife, or was he going to use his fists? But then he threw an arm around her shoulder, as if they were best mates. “Well. That’s good you’re keeping a watch on her.”
“It is?”
“Someone has to, and you know why the captain picked you, don’t you?”
“Because he’s annoyed with me about the chickens?”
“No. Because he thinks you’re not man enough to drill her when his back is turned.”
“Um…” Jacob had no idea how right he was.
He gave her a pat on the back. “Have you ever done the pillow dance with a woman?”
“Um…”
Jacob threw back his head and roared with laughter. “I remember when I was your age. Women were strange, scary even. But once you’ve split a muff or two there’s nothing to be scared of. All you need is to get your ramrod and bullets out and take a shot. You see, I’m not like Cap’n Ned. He thinks you’re just a backroom boy. But I bet, given a chance, you could drill a woman with the best of them. And I tell you what, lad, follow my lead and I’ll see you get the chance to drill her ladyship. Would you like that?”
What was it with the other sailors? Sam clenched her jaw to stop herself from saying anything rash. Suddenly everyone wanted to sort out her love life. It would have been irritating, even if they had the first idea about the truth.
Jacob patted her shoulder again and moved away. “If you want to stick with rump riding…well, each to his own, I say. But however you want to play the game, listen to me and I’ll see you right.”
Jacob strolled away into the sunshine with Gilly and Luke trotting like lapdogs at his heels. Sam shook her head. What was Jacob wanting, a vote if he made a bid for captain, or to set her up in Dan’s role for his next rape attempt?
The storeroom door opened an inch. “He’s gone?”
“Yes.”
Alonzo slipped back into the galley and stood arms folded. “I was listening at the door.”
“Hmm.” No surprise there.
“He is not a good man.” Alonzo needed to expand his knowledge of English swearwords.
“You could put it that way.”
“What he said about you…a backroom boy. What is that?”
“In Spanish?” Sam shrugged. “I can think of phrases. But take a few seconds. I’m sure you can work it out for yourself.”
“The captain has you watch over Doña Catalina because you do not wish to take a woman to bed? He thinks she is safe with you?”
“You’d have to ask him about that.” Actually, the captain has a good idea that I let the hens out to upset Jacob’s plans. Sam did not say it. Loose talk had a way of traveling.
“The other sailors do not like you, because of this? They make jokes about you?”
“I’m the cabin boy. Do you think they’re running short of things to joke about?”
Alonzo sidled closer and dropped his voice. “I tell you, it is the same everywhere. I understand. It is hard to be a man who likes men. Hard to find a place to be safe, to find others who share your wants.”
Sam shot a sideways look at him. Just how long had Alonzo been at sea? “If that’s what you’re after, give them a bottle of rum and half the men on board can be yours.”
Alonzo frowned, as if unsure how to take her words. His expression shifted to a smile. “But all are not so good-looking as you.”
Sam leapt away. Damn. She should have seen that coming. “No.”
“Do not be frightened. I will be good to you.”
“You ain’t going to be anything to me.”
“I promise. I will not tell anyone about us.”
“There isn’t going to be anything to tell.”
“I know about boys like you.”
“I bet you don’t.”
Alonzo continued to advance, trying to corner her. Sam would not win in a fight. He was a good five inches taller than she was, and his shoulders were as broad as any man on ship. “Please. It will be good. I have been with men before—many men. I know how to make you happy.”
“No, you don’t. What will make me happy is if you get back to cooking.” Which was not strictly true.
“You think I am too old? I can still get as hard as any man on the ship.”
Sam had run out of space to retreat. Luckily, a cook’s knife was to hand. Sam snatched it up. “Not if I cut your dick off first.”
“You are being foolish. You are just a child.” But his eyes held a flicker of uncertainty.
“You’re the fool. Since I joined the Golden Goose I’ve killed eight men. Do you want to make it nine?”
The count was open to dispute, most had been group efforts, but it had the effect Sam wanted. Alonzo took a step back and held up his hands. “You’re making the mistake.”
“Not as much as you.” Sam waved the knife, forcing another retreat. “You want a man to hump? There’s plenty on board who’ll be happy to give you what you want. But I’m not one of them.”
“The other sailor said—”
“Forget what he said.”
Alonzo scowled and slumped back against the wall. “You will not tell anyone about this?”
“No. You can hawk your own wares.” Sam put down the knife and picked up the flagon and mess tray. “Just don’t try it with me again.”
“You will not say a word to Doña Catalina? Promise? Not a word?”
“What makes you think she’d care, one way or the other?” Although, as the only person on the Golden Goose in the habit of reading the Bible, she might know the appropriate level of hell awaiting him. Was Alonzo still a Catholic? The state of the war in Europe made things not as clear-cut as before.
“Please. Promise.”
Sam merely shrugged and left the galley.
True to form, Catalina was sitting at the table with the Bible open before her.
“I’ve brought you dinner, miss.”
Catalina gave the mess tray a look of disgust that was everything it deserved. “You call that food?”
“No. Your old cook does.”
“Who?”
Sam’s doubts solidified. Whatever reason Alonzo had for being on the Spanish ship, it was nothing to do with food.
Catalina’s next words confirmed it. “I know supplies on a ship are limited. But nobody would have dared give me such swill on the Santa Eulalia.”
Why was Alonzo lying? Had he gotten into a tight spot, humping one of his former shipmates, and seized the chance to part company? He was not a cook, but his lack of seacraft meant he could hardly pass himself off as a common sailor. So why had he been on the ship to start with? Not that it mattered, as long as he did not poison everyone before he was booted off ship.
“I’m sorry.
I know the stew is bad, but it’s all we’ve got.”
“I would not dream of touching it. Take it away.”
“You need to eat something.”
“I’d rather starve.”
“Please.”
Catalina turned one of her ice-cold stares on Sam. “Please? You think I’m a spoiled child who needs to be encouraged to eat her dinner? You think I might mistake you for a nursemaid?”
“I just want you to be all right.” Her pathetic wish for Catalina to like her was all the more wretched for having not the slightest hope of success.
“Really? You want me to believe you care for anyone other than yourself? You’d kill me in an instant if you could make a profit.”
“No.”
“Yes. You pirates are all the same. Murderers, thieves, and rapists.”
“No. We’re not.”
“Prove it.”
“How?”
“Next chance you get, leave this ship of depraved brutes. Find yourself an honest job.”
The advice was better than Catalina knew. “I might.”
“Might? Or maybe you will continue as you are now, stealing other men’s property and their lives, not caring about the pain you cause.”
“That’s not true.” She met Catalina’s eyes. Long seconds drew out while Sam’s heartbeat pounded in her ears.
To her surprise, Catalina was the one to break contact. Her gaze dropped to the opened pages. “Go. And take that foul slop with you.”
Sam stared at the top of Catalina’s head. The temptation was so strong to sit down opposite Catalina, take her hand, and tell her the truth, devil take the consequences. Would it be worth it, if for one moment, Catalina would look on her as a friend? Sam picked up the mess tray and left quickly, not giving herself time to decide if the answer might be yes, because there was no doubt what the consequences would be. Sam did not have a Don Silverarse to pay the ransom for her.
Back on main deck, Sam scraped the mess tray over the side, to poison the fishes. She leaned on the gunwale and looked down at the waves, trying to clear her thoughts. With all the tempest Catalina stirred inside her, Sam was dreading the day the ransom arrived. Catalina would be put ashore, and Sam would never see her again.
“Land ahoy.”
A shout from the crow’s nest interrupted her brooding. Sam looked up. The sun was setting behind her, and purple haze cloaked the distance. Yet clear on the horizon was a smudge, piercing the skyline.
The Golden Goose, attended by the Maiden’s Prayer, had been heading south-southeast, on course for the Bahamas. The Spanish had stripped the islands of natives to work in their mines. Now mostly uninhabited, they were a perfect place to hole up. However, the nearest was still two days’ sailing away.
“Reef the sails. We’ll take her on easy.” Captain Williams gave the order. Did he know which island this was? Had it been his destination all along?
Sam stared at the distant speck until it was swallowed by the night. Somewhere, deep in her soul, something was wrong. It was an itching in her palms, goose bumps down her spine, prickling over her scalp. Shaking her head, Sam returned the mess tray to the galley and sought out her hammock. The feeling was quite stupid. And yet she was sure. Something about the island was very wrong.
* * *
By dawn the next morning, the island was less than a mile off the bows. The perfect curve of golden sand was unbroken by rivers or headlands. Behind it stood a dense wall of palm trees and ferns. The terrain seemed unnaturally flat, except for the center of the island, where a table mountain punched into the sky. A shimmering haze clouded the details, but the straight sides and flat top could have been drawn by a ruler.
The previous night’s uneasiness had faded but not completely gone. Sam rested her elbows on the gunwale and studied the shoreline. What was unsettling her? Nobody else had said anything. Was she the only one?
“Sam. Come here,” Captain Williams called from the forecastle.
First mate Donal was with him. Both were poring over a map that was spread out on top of a locker, held down by the ship’s log and sextant in opposite corners.
“What is it, Cap’n?”
“Come with me.” Captain Williams walked the few steps to the bowsprit. He stared at the island. “Me and Donal have been looking at the maps. This island isn’t on any of them. It strikes me somewhere nobody knows about is the perfect place to stay while we wait for Don Silverarse to cough up the coin for her ladyship.”
Don’t do it. The urge to speak was so strong. Sam bit her tongue.
“We’ll go ashore to get supplies, but there’s another matter I want you for.”
“Cap’n?”
“The lady. The more time passes, the more some of the lads are going to get crazy, having to keep their hands off her. It wouldn’t hurt to put temptation out of reach for a while. I want you and another couple of reliable men to take her to the island and keep an eye on her—men I can rely on not to damage her value.” Captain Williams turned his head to look at Sam. “And I can rely on you, can’t I, lad?” Was there the faintest stress on the word “lad”?
Sam just nodded.
“When it comes to reckoning the worth of a man, some think its balls and some think it’s brains. What do you think…lad?” This time there was no doubt.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, go on. Make a guess.”
“Brains?”
“Dead right. The trouble is, measuring brains isn’t as easy as looking in a man’s breeches.” His eyes fixed on Sam. “Jacob is all balls. But you’ve got brains, and I’ve got use for them.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not simply sweet talking. Once we drop anchor we’ll be fair set to ferry you and her ladyship ashore. I want you to keep her safe. The best man for a job isn’t always a man. You follow my drift, lad?”
“Aye, Cap’n.”
“Once we’ve finished this game with the Queen of Coins, maybe we should think about the Jack of…” He frowned. “But what’s the suit? It’s so hard when you don’t know what suit a card belongs in.”
Sam shrugged. “You can make it up as you go along. It works for me.”
“That’s not the safest game to play. I like to have an idea about my next few tricks.”
“You don’t advise laying the cards on the table?”
The smile on Captain Williams’s face broadened. “Oh no. Probably best if you don’t do that.”
Chapter Three
The Bible made it very clear. Good people who obeyed God’s laws would have a nice time, and evil people would not. Catalina sighed and tried not to slump in her chair. The trouble was, the passages had limited agreement over whether the reward and retribution came in this world or the next. Some confidently promised speedy, inescapable divine justice. Others took a long-term view.
Catalina turned to the next page, seeking grounds for optimism. She felt in need of it. Her education had focused on accomplishments a future husband would find both pleasing and useful. However, enough history, politics, and current events had crept in to cause her doubts. It was impossible to avoid the suspicion that God was giving sinners a free hand in this life.
More than one hundred years had passed since Luther’s rebellion against the Pope, God’s representative on earth. If ever God was going to intervene, and vent His wrath on the wicked, surely this would be the cause. Yet the Protestant countries of northern Europe were prospering at the expense of the faithful. If God was not going to intervene on behalf of the Pope, what hope He would do it for her? Especially since, in her heart of hearts, Catalina knew her faith was not as strong as it should be.
She remembered Father Ortiz, the family priest, confidently announcing, “God will reveal His hand and grant victory to His chosen.”
Her reply would have been better kept to herself. “In that case, God has chosen the Swedes under King Gustavus Adolphus.”
Cynicism had gotten Catalina into trouble more than once. Yet clearly,
victory in battle depended purely on the number of soldiers and the quality of the commanders. All the prayers spoken beforehand counted for nothing, regardless of what form they took. Catalina sunk her face in her hands. It would be so very comforting to think prayers were answered sometimes.
After a moment to gather herself, Catalina flipped farther on. Reading the Bible had limited appeal, but her only other entertainment was staring out the window, and she had seen quite enough ocean. She needed a distraction from her empty stomach, although she had no regrets about refusing the revolting swill offered her the previous night.
Foolishly, she had left her other books on the Santa Eulalia. She could ask the cabin boy if there was any way to fetch them, but if he managed it, she would become indebted to him, and before she knew it, she would stop seeing him as an enemy. She dared not let her resolve weaken until she was free and away.
Yet, now that she thought of it, something had changed. The motion was different as the ship rode the waves. The sun had risen and light streamed through the window, then a burst of sudden shadows flitted across the cabin wall.
Catalina went to look as another flock of seabirds swooped by. Did this mean they were close to land? She pressed her face against the thick green glass, but could see nothing apart from the sea meeting the horizon. Then she noticed what was missing—there was no wake. The ship had dropped anchor.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Catalina quickly returned to her chair and the Bible. The door opened, and then there was silence. Without looking up, she knew it was the cabin boy. He always took one step into the room and then stopped, staring at her as if he were a three-year-old at Christmas who has just seen the goose come out of the oven. He had not been among the would-be rapists, but Catalina had no doubt it was due to his youth. Before long he would be the same as all the rest.
Catalina kept her eyes on the page. Disregarding the pirates was the only defiance open to her. She would not ask their names, or treat any as though they were worthy of her attention. Maybe the boy had age as an excuse, but it did not take a crystal ball to see where he was headed. It was obvious by the swagger in his step and the hunger in his eyes.
Isle of Broken Years Page 5