“Right, then,” I said, calling the group gathered around the binnacle to order. “I’ve had a look and we’ve taken little damage. One shot to the hold. It’s above the waterline, and a temporary repair has been fashioned … “
“What about the barrels?” Red piped in.
“I was just about to finish my report,” I said, firmly. “The water barrels are in ruins. We’ve got only the half-barrel left on deck.” All eyes instinctively turned to the sky, the logical source for fresh water at sea. It was a perfect powder blue with not a cloud in sight.
“Right, then. There’s a ship anchored in the bay. We’ll come about and cut off its exit, then pay them a visit. See if we can buy some barrels.”
“Aye, if not we can liberate them,” Rhames said, with a devilish look on his face.
I felt Shayla press against me, and reached down for her hand. “We’ve got enough gold in our hold to buy the ship.”
I hoped that settled the matter, but a glance at Rhames, who, with his hand shielding his brow, studied the anchored ship. I knew he was apprising it from a military perspective and left him to it. Taking the ship was not our plan, but learning what you can about a potential enemy was never a bad thing. Moving away, I entered the companionway, and grabbing a lantern from a hook on the wall, lit it, and started to climb down to the bilge.
After extracting a handful of gold coins, more than enough for a few dozen barrels, I returned to deck. Mason had positioned the ship off the point with the starboard rail facing land. From there we controlled the deepwater exit from the bay. The schooner at anchor would be faster, but the shallows would limit her ability to maneuver.
“Lower the skiff,” I ordered, and waited while the men manned the davits, which swung our remaining longboat over the side and lowered it in the water.
“Best be careful with her,” Mason said.
After losing the first of our two skiffs in the battle earlier, I would need to make sure this skiff returned. Looking at Shayla, I nodded. We dropped over the side and climbed down the rope ladder to the waiting skiff. Not usually one to stand on ceremony, I did know when a show of force was warranted, and with two freedmen at the oars, and Swift and Red well-armed, I felt confident that we would return.
As we approached the sloop, I was immediately envious of her lines. The long waterline, narrow beam, and a sail plan that allowed efficiency despite the direction of the wind made for a fast ship. And I couldn’t help but think how perfect she would be for a trip around the Horn to the Pacific. Looking around at my crew, I could see they had made the same appraisal. Putting the thought from my mind, I sat tall on the bench and prepared to find out who we would have the pleasure of meeting.
I silently noted my observations as we pulled alongside. Judging from the clean look of her hull, the ship was new enough to never have been careened. A rope ladder dropped over the side just as we touched the schooner and I heard a voice hail down to us.
“If you’ve come in good faith, you’re welcome aboard,” he said in English.
I looked over at Shayla, who had accompanied us in the event an interpreter was needed. I would have asked her to join the group, but that hadn’t been necessary. I liked the fact that she was strong of both body and mind. With a fiery look in her eyes and pursed lips I knew she was coming aboard with us.
“Right, then.” Leaving the freedmen with the skiff, I sent Red and Swift up the ladder with Shayla and I following behind.
The captain had a familiar look, but his coiffed hair hid his eyes. “Captain James Harp,” he introduced himself with a nod. When he looked up, I flinched on seeing his blood-red eyes.
“Nick Van Doren, this is Shayla, Red, and Swift.” I left the titles out, letting him guess if I was really the captain. It was common practice to have a seaman stand-in just in case subterfuge was on the menu.
“Refreshments are in order. Then we can discuss what we can do for each other,” he said. Something about his voice grated on my nerves. Keeping our goal in mind, my wariness increased as he led the way to the stern deck, where a table and chairs were set.
“Get a measure of their weapons and men,” I whispered to Red and Swift. With a fair amount of trepidation, Shayla and I followed Captain Harp to the table. It appeared to be a friendly greeting, but at sea, especially in the Caribbean where there was no one power that ruled, things were rarely as they appeared.
If he were plotting our demise, Harp certainly fed us well first. We were served something that at first I thought might be roasted pork, along with some root vegetables. Fresh meat was always welcome after bouncing around at sea for a month, and thought the taste was slightly off, I ate my share. It had been on Cozumel that we last had a proper meal. Along with the food was a better-than-average wine, followed by a good port. As our host had intended, by the time I pushed back my chair I was relaxed and in a “receptive” mood.
“So, what brings you to the Isla de los Piños?” Harp asked.
I placed my napkin on the table. “Fresh water and provisions,” I said.
“As you can tell by our fare, you have made a good enough choice.”
Something again struck me as odd and I wondered why his ship was anchored in this dangerous and shallow bay. His was too large and expensive a ship to be out of action for any length of time. Aside from the dangerous waters she was anchored in, there would be no income for the owners, crew, or captain if the ship was not working. There was always an attitude on a ship and I had been aboard enough that I knew when the crew was disciplined. The deck of this schooner was in disarray and she had a wretched air about her. In many ways it resembled a gypsy camp—or a pirate ship.
“Right, then. It’s some casks we’re after. Our Havana-bought supply has proven inferior.”
That brought a smile to his face. Enjoying a joke at the expense of the Spanish was fair game here, but it brought a question to my lips. If he wasn’t a friend of the Spaniards, who was he?
“What business are you about, then?”
I hesitated, knowing the answer was often misunderstood. “We are salvors making our way to Panama and across to the Pacific.” I had come up with the term to describe us. Sometimes it was taken at face value, and other times it brought unwanted questions.
“Really, so you recover what others have lost?”
“Yes. We’ve become proficient at diving as well.” I padded our resume, hoping to lend our ventures some legitimacy.
The smile that appeared on his face was different from the one he used when looking at Shayla. “It appears that we have need of each other, young Captain Van Doren.”
I felt men gather behind me. Whenever someone used “young” to prefix my name it usually meant they thought they had out-maneuvered me. In this case, a length of rope was slung around me and I felt the abrasive fiber cut into my chest and arms as I was secured to the back of the chair. A glance at Shayla, Red, and Swift revealed they had met the same fate.
Chapter 6
While decisions were made regarding Shayla, the two pirates, and myself, I studied the ship and crew, doing my best to absorb every detail I could. Something or someone would be the key to our freedom.
I had been too interested in the ship itself earlier and failed to notice the ragtag British uniforms the men wore. No captain of the line would have allowed their appearance. Then there was Harp himself. His blotchy skin and red eyes led me to believe that he was ill, and now after being taken prisoner, I wondered what was amiss.
We were moved underneath a shade awning stretched over the boom and settled to the deck. I continued to study the men and ship as we waited, which confirmed my opinion that something was seriously wrong here. A large iron pot cooking the meat sat nearby, the area littered with bones and blood. The two men stirring the pot smiled at us, almost as if they shared a secret.
A few minutes later, I heard Captain Harp’s voice from the companionway. Another man, who I didn’t recognize, recited back the words the captain had just spoken t
o him, in a hushed tone. He stumbled over them several times, either from lack of familiarity or a suspect memory. I didn’t expect he was the shiniest piece of brightwork aboard.
The one-sided conversation concluded and the man soon appeared dressed in the captain’s finery. He would represent himself to my crew as the master of the ship, or at least try to. It was a common enough ploy, one that we had used several times, to allow the captain to remain anonymous. Harp gave him one last piece of advice and sent him down the rope ladder, where I expected our two freedmen would be tasked with rowing him over to our ship and back.
Mason and Rhames had settled into an uneasy alliance, which I hoped would last long enough to hear out Harp’s demands, and act on them. Though they were both intelligent and rational, their experiences and expectations were entirely different. Rhames expected everything to be a fight. Mason was the opposite; he always sought a peaceful solution. Together the mix was often volatile.
“Captain, if I may … “I called out after the captain’s doppelganger had dropped below the rail.
Harp turned back to me. “I’d address you likewise if I knew you were actually the captain.”
“I can assure you—” I stopped when I saw the skeptical look in his eye. Changing tacks, I offered a different perspective. “If I’m not, I don’t expect we’d be much of a bargaining chip.” I was younger-looking than my years, and with my average physique I would blend in to a crowd more than a captain should.
He rubbed his chin through the stubble he had grown to hide the blotchy rash.
“I’m also the owner of the ship. If you have terms it might behoove you to speak to me directly.”
“I’ll attest for what he’s said,” Shayla offered.
Red and Swift nodded their heads.
“All the better, then. You’ll be my guarantee of safe passage.”
He had countered my opening move of blocking his exit from the anchorage by taking hostages. I was faced with a formidable and possibly demented foe. “We’ll gladly sail to your next port of call if you deliver to my ship the dozen water barrels we need.” I reached into my pocket.
The minute he saw the glint of gold his attitude changed. “Well, young Captain. Where might you have come across a pocketful of gold?”
I knew right then it had been a mistake to bring gold instead of silver. When your ballast was loaded with riches it distorted your senses. A captain of an older brigantine would have a scant few silver coins. In an effort to impress, I had overplayed my hand.
“As I’ve already explained, we’ve done some salvage work.”
He removed his hat and rubbed his hand over his slick, bald head. “Maybe I was a tad hasty.” Harp called to the crewman tasked with overseeing us and ordered him to free Shayla’s and my bonds.
With the ropes removed, we stood. Red and Swift remained secured, tied back to back. I gave them a reassuring look and followed the captain to the quarterdeck. He offered wine, which, though I didn’t want it, knew it was bad form to refuse. While I nodded in an unspoken toast and took a sip, Shayla took her glass and drank greedily. Harp did the same and motioned us to sit.
“Salvage, eh? I’m sure you have a few stories.”
I thought before responding, not wanting to squander our newfound value. “The Wreck of the Ten Sail, in the Caymans, was one. Lately we’ve been playing cat and mouse with Lafitte and the Spanish.” I said the former to give us some credibility and the latter to see if we had anything in common. Enemies sharing the same plight often became allies.
“Lafitte is surely a scoundrel, but his ships are slow and no match for this girl,” he said proudly.
“And the Spanish?” He sipped his wine, but I could tell he was deciding how much to tell me about the conditions that led him to be anchored in a shallow bay and so easily penned in by a slower ship. Had it not been for our desperate need for fresh water, we could have taken him.
“No friends of ours, either. I’d have guessed that were you on good terms, we might not have found you here.”
He sipped again. “And it appears that finding us might be to your good fortune.”
“Before we go any further, I’d appreciate a barrel of water sent over to my ship.”
“As soon as my skiff returns, Captain.”
At least he had acknowledged me. “Alright, then. So, the Spanish?”
He poured another round of wine. My cup took little, but Shayla’s was empty. Though not usually a heavy drinker, she and her father, Phillip, had been proprietors of a bar in Grand Cayman. She knew her way around alcohol, and I wondered about the reason for her need to imbibe. Seeing my distraction, Harp finished pouring and sat.
With a sigh he started. “The devil with them. Minding our own business we were, beating into the wind and making our way around this blasted island when two of their frigates started to chase us.”
“Where about did this happen?” I asked.
“Just past the Banco de San Antonio.”
These sounded like the same two ships that we had just escaped. It appeared they had lost the faster schooner and decided on taking us as a prize so they wouldn’t return to port empty-handed.
“We outran them, but lost a ship to the reef,” Harp said.
It occurred to me that if there was something of value aboard the sunken ship we could be of service. “We’ve had some experience salvaging wrecks.”
We were interrupted by the return of the skiff. Once the sailors and “captain” were back aboard, they came to the table and looked at me.
“Appears you’ve had the captain the entire time,” the man said.
“Well, of course,” Harp responded. “We’ll talk later about what you saw aboard.”
The man, with a look of confusion on his face, walked away shaking his head from side to side.
“It appears your story is confirmed, then.” Harp raised his glass. “So, tell me of your salvage techniques.”
I had no reason to hide anything, as there was quite a bit more to salvage than possession of the equipment required to reclaim what the sea had taken. Our hard-earned experience was invaluable. Leaning forward in my chair, I looked over at Shayla, whose cheeks had turned red from the wine. I’d seen her like this one other time and knew I’d have to get her into a bunk sooner rather than later.
Detailing some of our methods, much like a salesman pitching his wares, I gave a brief description of how we had learned to equip the dive bell and our success with it. He seemed fascinated, and I got the feeling that our skills might become a sought-after commodity. Continuing, I belabored the points of expertise required to keep the men alive underwater, and again as they surfaced from their dives. What I didn’t mention was that the diving bell now sat in thirty feet of water in an area in the Dry Tortugas I had named The Tongue, a place I had no intention of returning to.
“Aye, young Captain. I get your point. If we would employ your services, what might we expect to pay?”
I had never been offered payment for our work; it had always been on speculation. Thinking back to how my father would have handled the opportunity, I started to question the captain, evaluating whether it would be worth a fee or a share.
“I’ll have to confer with the crew about the work, but a deposit of the water casks would surely help.”
“Then you won’t mind if I keep your men here as surety.” He smiled.
A half-hour later, with the freeboard of the skiff just inches from the water, we brought the half-dozen casks back to the ship. Mason and Rhames were waiting on the rail and supervised the offloading and storage. When all was complete and Harp’s skiff sent back, I gathered the crew around the mast.
Chapter 7
“Cannibals,” Shayla spat, and ran over to the rail. Wiping her mouth, she returned a minute later.
I had seen the signs but chose to ignore them. Feeling my stomach roil, I thought about Harp.
“The captain appears to be in the late stages of syphilis,” I said. The men were a
ll too familiar with the disease. Knowing Swift and Red were prisoners aboard the mad-man’s ship, sullen looks fell over the crew assembled by the mast—with the exception of Rhames. That old pirate’s face had revenge etched into it. I waited until they settled down. They might not all have a say in what was decided, but I wanted them to hear it from me, not secondhand.
“Bastard’s got us over a barrel and the son of a bitch’ll have my boys over the cooking pot if we don’t do something.” Rhames said.
This started a new round of discussion and speculation. Again, I waited for the men to settle down. Rhames was ready to load up and take the ship, but I knew, despite the disorder and lack of discipline aboard the schooner, she still outmanned and outgunned us.
“Red and Swift are safe for the time being. Harp needs us. He’s given us some casks and a bit of water, but not enough to safely see us anywhere without a rainstorm to replenish it.” I told them about the ship Harp claimed the Spanish had sunk by the reef. “I say we see what we can salvage and get our men back.”
“If it don’t work out it’s going to be bad for me boys,” Rhames reminded everyone.
With a determined look on her face, Shayla turned to look at the schooner. “We can’t allow that to happen.”
It wasn’t often the two of them agreed. I exchanged looks with both of them. “As long as we work with him, they’ll be safe enough.”
Most of the freedmen were nodding in agreement. Without Red and Swift, Rhames was just one vote. It was Shayla I was concerned with. Numerically, her vote counted the same as everyone else; however, seeing the two of us split in our opinion was not good for morale. Faced with choosing to have a discussion in front of the men or in private, I chose the latter, knowing her quick mind and wit were liable to embarrass me in front of the crew. Most times she was good at reading situations, but with her mind made up about something, as it appeared to be now, she would fight to the death. If there was to be blood, I’d rather it flow in the privacy of our cabin than on the deck.
Uncharted Waters Page 3