Isle of Broken Years

by Jane Fletcher

  What had happened?

  * * *

  Catalina sat beneath what was left of the awning, watching the search for survivors, although she could tell all hope had gone. The weather had turned unusually warm for March, making it easily the hottest day since leaving Spain. Her ringlets stuck to sweat on her face and neck. She found a water flask and took a long drink. What were her options? Did she have any? She rested her head on her knees.

  Nine souls had survived the shipwrecks, dragging themselves to safety. To Catalina’s joy, Alonzo was among them. She must talk to him and find out what was going on. Set against this, the leader of the would-be rapists also lived. Catalina had felt sick, seeing him stumble clear of the waves. She was keeping her distance, not that it would do any good.

  Her memories of the attack were confused. In truth, she had gone from being asleep, to being terrified, to being stunned and sickened in the space of a minute. Yet in that time, she had formed the impression this man was the ringleader. He had certainly been the quickest to react, murdering his companion and inventing a story.

  Meanwhile, between sifting through the wreckage, the pirates were arguing over what had happened. It was a waste of breath. The more Catalina listened, the clearer it became that none had any idea. Despite being just as clueless as the others, the rapist ringleader’s voice was loudest and most confident. Of all the pirates, Catalina would have most wished him on the bottom of the ocean.

  Another cause for regret, Captain Williams had gone down with his ship. Not that Catalina saw him as an ally, but he would have imposed order. She could have counted on him to think and plan. He might even have found a way off this island. Who knew what the pirates would do without him? Catalina buried her face in her hands. Actually, she could make a guess.

  “My lady? Are you well?” Spoken softly words in Spanish.

  “Alonzo. What’s going on? Why are you here with them?”

  He knelt by her side. “Did you think I’d abandon you?”

  “No. Never.”

  “When the captain said we could either join or get put ashore, I knew it was the only way I’d be able to stay and protect you. Not that I’ve made a good job of it.” His voice filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry, my lady. Surely it was the hand of the Blessed Virgin that released the hens that night. I was asleep. I helped recapture the birds, but knew nothing of what else had occurred until I heard the news the next day. Forgive me. I should have kept a better watch on you.”

  Catalina grasped his hand. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m pleased you’re here with me now. Your devotion is the only hope I have.”

  “Hope? My lady. It’s bad…it’s…”

  “What?”

  “I fear for you. The pirates. For now, they’re preoccupied, they’re shaken, but soon, they’ll recover. I fear what they’ll do to you.” Unshed tears filled his eyes. “My lady, I’m sorry. It would be better if you died, to preserve your honor, unsullied. I…” He thumped his fist onto the sand, fighting for self-control. “I am always your servant. If you ask, I will…” He did not need to say more.

  “No. I’m not asking, not yet. Not until there is no alternative.” Would it count as suicide? What would Father Ortiz say?

  “What can we do?”

  “We can’t stay here.”

  Catalina looked over her shoulder. Tangled plants formed an unbroken wall. Could they hide in the jungle? Would it do anything beyond delaying the inevitable? Yet it would give them time, and with time maybe she could think of something. The only other options were to sit and wait for the pirates to remember she was there, or to ask Alonzo to perform one final service.

  Her shoes and stockings were dry. While putting them on Catalina asked, “Do you have a weapon? A knife? A pistol?”

  “No. The captain didn’t entrust me with one.”

  Catalina looked to the seashore. The pirates were still busy, paying her no attention. She had a little time yet. A quick search produced a second water bottle and a compass. There was gunpowder and lead shot, but the only weapon was a knife. The blade was eight inches long, just like the one the ringleader had used to slit his companion’s throat. She handed the knife to Alonzo. If would make his task easier, if they were reduced to their final option. As a former squire, he would know how to use it effectively.

  Shouting on the beach grew louder and more raucous. Catalina froze, thinking she had been spotted. But no, the pirates were arguing among themselves. No surprise the ringleader was in the midst of it, and his voice was the most blaring. By the look of it, a fight could break out, and possibly more bloodshed. Was it too much to hope the pirates would all kill one another? Could they be so senselessly violent?

  “Come. They’re distracted. This is our chance,” Alonzo said.

  Ferns formed a dense hedge, but the leaves were soft and easily pushed aside. Catalina squirmed through. After a few steps, the light was reduced to a green gloom, and the undergrowth thinned out. Even so, she would not be able to move swiftly in her current gown. Catalina took a deep breath, forcing herself to think rationally. This was no time for foolish modesty.

  After Lucia went, Catalina had been forced to dress unaided, which required simplifying her attire. The laced corset and wicker farthingale had been sacrificed. Of all her clothes, the pale blue gown and petticoat she currently wore were easiest to put on. They also came off quickly. It was the work of seconds to strip to her knee-length smock.

  Alonzo looked away but said nothing.

  The compass pointed away from the beach, toward the center of the island. Catalina frowned. She would have said due north was to her right, but the needle was steady. They did not want to be running in circles.

  “Let’s go.” Catalina led the way.

  The air was thick and humid and smelled of decay. Tree trunks rose like the pillars of a cathedral. Ferns formed a carpet, cut by ribbons of bare earth. The chatter of birds floated down, along with the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Something small scurried off through the undergrowth as she passed.

  Catalina paused and glanced back. A sliver of sea was visible between the trees, etched in dazzling sunlight. The pirates’ voices had faded into the rush and sigh of the ocean. Still, there was no sign her flight had been noticed. They should make the most of their chance. Together, she and Alonzo pushed on, into the heart of the island.

  Chapter Four

  “Do you want to back that up with something?” Jacob snarled.

  Ellis stood his ground. “I say it goes to a vote.”

  “Is that so? Well, I’m voting with this.” Jacob brandished his knife.

  “You can’t fight your way to being captain.”

  “For one, we ain’t got a frigging boat for anyone to be captain of. For two, let’s see how good you are at telling me what I can’t do when you’re holding your guts in your hands.”

  Despite all she knew of Jacob, Sam was still surprised events had come to this so quickly. She looked around the ring of spectators. Who would support Ellis? Who would cave in to Jacob? It was so damned stupid. Had everyone lost his brain?

  Something was deeply wrong with this island. Sam had known it before setting foot ashore. The storm was like nothing she had ever seen. A dozen whirlpools did not suddenly appear and vanish. The sun did not jump across the sky. The word “magic” was running around in her head. She did not want to believe it, but what other explanation was there?

  Sailors were superstitious by nature. Sam had long ceased being surprised at their gullibility and the credit they gave to blatant nonsense. Yet now, the one time when tales of krakens, mermaids, and sea sprites might carry weight, and they were acting as if everything was normal, as if what had happened was no more than a freak storm.

  Nobody had mentioned the sun. Instead, they were quarrelling over who got to pick which pile of flotsam they looked under next, in a pointless search for survivors. No one else had made it to the beach. The twelve of them, plus Catalina, were all who were left, and with unknown d
angers ahead, they could not afford to lose anyone else.

  Ellis had not yet pulled his own knife. He had to know he would stand no chance against the younger, bigger man. Jacob knew this too, which was why he was not about to give way. The only thing he need fear was if everyone ganged up against him. How likely was that? Sam checked each face again and realized one was missing. Where was Alonzo? She knew he had crawled from the sea.

  Sam looked to where Catalina had been sitting in the shade of the awning. She was gone—completely gone. The only people on the beach were the squabbling band of sailors. Neither Catalina nor Alonzo were anywhere in sight. Without thinking, Sam started toward the camp.

  She went only a few steps before the others noticed. “What’s up?”

  “I—” Sam stopped, cursing herself. She should have thought before moving.

  Of course, Catalina had fled. Jacob would not think twice about raping her, and he would not be the only one. There was not even the promise of a ransom as a reason to hold back. Catalina was wise to have run when she had the chance.

  Sam turned back, trying to act casual. She wanted to give Catalina the best head start, but it was too late.

  Simon also noticed Catalina was missing. “Hey! Where’s her frigging ladyship?”

  “Dammed bitch.” Jacob spat, then gave a bark of laughter. “Right, lads. She wants to make a game of it. We get to play hide-and-seek. Who’s up for the hunt?”

  After a moment to grasp his meaning, everyone cheered. Even Ellis joined in eagerly, to Sam’s surprise. His lack of interest in women was well known.

  The sailors charged over to the camp. Spotting the bent ferns where Catalina had pushed her way through was easy. Whooping and laughing, the sailors followed after, vanishing into the greenery. Jacob’s voice was loudest. Within seconds, Sam was alone on the beach.

  What could she do to help Catalina? Sam searched for anything to give a clue to her plans—if there were any. Several bags were upended on the ground. A knife had been in the supplies brought ashore, but Catalina would need more than that for defense.

  Nobody had mentioned that Alonzo was also missing. His preference for male lovers made it unlikely he had abducted Catalina, and he lied about being a cook. So what was his role, both then and now? Might he be her guardian? It would explain why he was on the galleon, and why he volunteered for the Golden Goose. In which case, he was there to offer Catalina his help and protection. Sam felt an absurd stab of jealousy. It did not matter. Catalina would never look to her as a savior.

  An outburst of shouting erupted in the jungle. Surely they could not have found Catalina so quickly? She must have got farther away than that. Sam dived through the wall of ferns. Leaves slapped her face, but after a few steps, the undergrowth became sparse, deprived of sunlight by the dense treetop canopy. A few yards away, the sailors were clustered around a bundle of material.

  “Look, lads, she’s ready for us. She’s stripped already.” Jacob held up the pale blue satin. “Spread out and search. Everyone, prime your pistol. When you find her, let off a shot. And no having a sneaky in and out without giving your mates a chance.”

  “So who does go first?”

  Jacob grinned—and why not? He had what he wanted. The others were letting him take the lead. “We’ll talk about that when we’ve found her. So what are you waiting for?”

  The sailors cheered like children playing football, and raced off, all in different directions.

  “Wait. Shouldn’t we stick together?” Sam shouted.

  Jacob was the only one to stop. He grabbed a high branch and swung around, half hanging, ape-like. “What, boy? You scared? Think you’re not man enough?” He laughed. “Follow me if you want. I’ll show you how to drill a woman.” Then he too charged away.

  Shouts echoed through the trees, getting fainter. Already, the sailors were out of sight, and once again, Sam was left alone. Her insides knotted. She pressed the sides of her head between her hands. Think. That was the first step. Think. She needed to, because no one else was.

  Around her, clumps of knee-high ferns were broken into islands by rivers of brown leaf litter. Larger, thick-stemmed plants held up multi-fingered leaves, as if worshiping the light. Ropes of vines hung in coils from the treestops. During her years at sea, Sam had visited dozens of Caribbean islands. This one was not different to the eye, but she could feel her hair stand on end. Something was so very wrong.

  Jacob would never make a good leader. He was a joke compared to Captain Williams. This island was unsafe. Two ships had been lost, along with most of the crew. Who knew what other dangers might lurk here? They could not afford mistakes. Yet Jacob was thinking with his dick. He had them running off on their own just because he wanted to hump a woman. The fact the woman was Catalina was irrelevant.

  Or maybe not totally irrelevant.

  Sam sucked in a deep breath. Whatever danger lay in wait, Catalina was also at risk. Alonzo might want to protect her, but he could not guarantee her safety alone. Sam had to find them before anyone else did. But which way?

  The crack of a pistol shot broke the peace beneath the trees. Seabirds took to the air, complaining. She was too late. Someone had found Catalina first.

  Sam raced through the jungle in the direction of the gunshot. She hurdled fallen trees and burst through clumps of matted shrubs. To her right, another sailor’s path was converging with hers.

  “Who’s there?” he called out.

  “Me. Sam.”

  She came to where a fallen tree had torn a ragged hole in the canopy. Sam stopped in the patch of sunlight, gasping to catch her breath.

  Simon joined her. “Do you know who fired the shot?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t either.”

  Sam had guessed as much. She raised her voice. “Hey. Is anyone here? Who signaled?”

  No answer.

  “It sounded like it came from around here,” Simon said.

  Two more sailors arrived, crashing through the undergrowth. “Who fired their pistol?”

  “We don’t know.”

  Sam was about to shout again. She drew a breath and stopped. A dozen feet away, on the other side of the fallen trunk, a pair of boots stuck out from beneath a clump of ferns. Sam hopped over the tree and parted the leaves.

  Jacob was lying facedown, his shirt soaked in blood. One of the other sailors knelt and turned him over. Jacob stared, wide-eyed but unseeing, at the sky. No need to check for breath. He was dead. Shot in the back.

  Nobody said anything. Sam turned away to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. She could prove nothing, but no wonder Ellis had been happy to go along with Jacob’s insane hunt.

  * * *

  “What should we do with him?”

  “We could carry him to the shore.”

  “Why?”

  Sam sat on the fallen tree, playing no part. She wondered if the other sailors shared her suspicions about Jacob’s killer. If so, none voiced them aloud. Simon had even gone so far as to mumble about “an accident,” and nobody contradicted him—which might be how things stayed. Was anyone unhappy enough at Jacob’s death to want to push the point?

  The only thing giving Sam cause for doubt was that Ellis had not appeared. She expected him to turn up, gasping as if from running a distance, and feign innocence. In fact, four sailors had not yet joined them. Where were they? They must have heard the pistol. What chance one of them was the killer? After all, Ellis was not Jacob’s only enemy. It might even have been Simon, acting on his bedfellow’s behalf.

  The sailors rambled on. “We can’t just leave him here.”

  “Don’t see why—”

  A shot rang out, sounding about a quarter mile away. Damn. In her shock at Jacob’s murder, Sam had forgotten about Catalina. That must be where the rest were.

  The other sailors brightened. “Hey! They’ve found her.”

  “Let’s go.” Simon waved them on. “We can come back for—”

  A second shot sounded, followed
by a scream. The smiles vanished. Sam jumped to her feet. The voice had not belonged to a woman. Had she wronged Ellis? Was there an unknown killer on the island, hunting then down? Where was Catalina?

  Simon was the first to speak. “Look lively, lads. There’s trouble.”

  “Wait.” Sam was again ignored.

  They had no idea who or what they faced. Charging in recklessly was stupid. Yet within seconds, Sam was once more left alone. In the distance, a renewed clamor of shots and shouts ended in an agonized cry, cut short. Sam pulled her pistol from her belt. Was there any point following Simon and the rest?

  Sam looked at Jacob’s lifeless face. He had been a bastard without a conscience, a fool without any understanding of how much ability he lacked. His death was no great loss to her, or anyone else. Was there, somewhere, a mother who would mourn him? Sam doubted it.

  She was about to turn away when she noticed, a few feet from his head, the unmistakable imprint of a small foot—a dainty woman’s foot. Jacob might have been a fool, but he had not been running blindly through the forest. He had been tracking Catalina. Sam set off, following the footprints.

  She had been traveling a few minutes when a fresh uproar erupted. Sam stopped to listen. Repeated gunfire was mixed with shouts and screams. Simon and the others had joined the battle, and judging by the sounds, they were not finding it easy. The sailors were all veterans of countless fights, both on and off the sea. It would take more than one lone foe to better them.

  The island was not uninhabited. Sam had heard the tales of cannibals and headhunters. She had lumped them in with myths of mermaids and sea monsters. But why should she be surprised? This was clearly a place where magic ruled and nightmares came true.

  As suddenly as it started, the sounds of battle stopped. The silence that followed was the most worrying part. Sam was very familiar with her crewmates’ celebrations. The sailors were not cheering, which meant they had lost, and were either dead or prisoner. Would the unknown enemy now be content with the victory, or would they come looking for her?