Uncharted Waters

by Steven Becker

  The captain had proven to be about as reliable as one of Rhame’s throws of the dice that often got the pirate in trouble, but the man was our best play. Taking Shayla and Lucy back by force was beyond our reach in a city that none of us knew well. With those thoughts rolling around in my head, I suffered a sleepless night, spending my time between the helm and top spar.

  The harbor was already busy when the first rays of sunlight hit the water. At least as far as the weather gods were concerned it would be a good day. Unfortunately, their rule ended for the most part where water met land. Despite the previous night’s libations, the captain appeared early, dressed for shore carrying all the pomp you would expect from a Spanish officer. There was no point in waiting, and we briefly paused by the rail to confirm and work out the logistics of the trade. He wanted to go ashore alone in the skiff, obtain Shayla and Lucy, and bring them back in return for the treasure.

  Things were never so simple. First was the matter of needing our crewmen to row the skiff. That was overcome by swapping uniforms with several of the Spaniards in the hold. Second was what to do with the mutineers, especially the first mate. The lot of them needed to be put off, but I did not want to have them shuttled by the Spanish forces, or to dock and offload them. Tied to the wharf, surrounded by our enemies, we could easily be taken.

  There was one constant in the equation: the captain’s greed. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his new-found riches. Finally, we agreed that the Scots would accompany him to shore. I carefully instructed them in the expected behavior of the Spanish sailors that they were supposed to be representing, and was surprised they almost looked the part—as long as they didn’t speak, they’d be fine. Their orders were to make sure the captain spoke to no one other than the warden. They might catch no more than a few words of what was being said, but these two seemed to have an extra awareness when it came to self-preservation.

  Staring at the city, a feeling of helplessness came over me as I watched the two freedmen row the group toward the pier. I thought I should have gone myself, but it was too much of a risk. All I could do was wait, and after setting watches on all quarters, I went below to secure what would be left of our treasure if everything went smoothly. I was glad I checked, as I found the remaining gold ballast exposed, with the stones we had used to conceal it arranged in dangerous, unbalanced piles port and starboard. One wave, taken badly, would have toppled them, causing massive and possibly devastating damage to the ship.

  Back on deck, I called for Rhames and asked him to oversee a crew to re-stack the ballast, then climbed into the rigging. It was either climb or pace the decks, and that tended to make the crew more nervous than they already were. From my position high above the water, I waited for what felt like an eternity until finally I was saw Shayla’s blaze of auburn hair in a skiff being rowed through the harbor. It crossed behind an anchored ship before I could count heads, but my heart jumped just knowing she was alive.

  The captain had kept his word, and after waiting as they were rowed across the harbor, Shayla and I had a passionate but brief reunion, then we loaded the promised gold.

  “What of your crew?” I asked him.

  “Feed the bastards to the sharks for all I care. I’m retired now.” He patted one of the chests sitting beside him in the low-riding skiff.

  Expecting this, over the last few hours I had come up with a solution. The beach where we had careened the ship several long weeks ago was easily accessible at high tide, and unguarded. It was in the wrong direction, but we could put them ashore there. Mason came beside me, reading my mind as the captain was rowed to a waiting carriage by the docks.

  “Change of plans, then?”

  “Just a bit. We’ll put them ashore where we careened her.”

  “For the best. Far enough from town, we’ll be long gone before they can set an alarm.”

  “If anyone believes them.” I knew this wasn’t true. The captain planned to disappear with the gold, making our only friendly witness unavailable. When the word of a Spanish crew was measured against that of a mixed rabble of pirates, we would be hanged if caught.

  Just as I thought it, Mason called for sails and a minute later, the ship tugged against the anchor rode. The crowded harbor had little room to maneuver, and as soon as the men at the capstan freed the anchor, we quickly moved toward the two forts guarding the entrance of the harbor. A bit of luck brought us between them just as the sun set, making visibility difficult, allowing us to sail straight through without incident.

  Turning west, we found deep water and changed course to run parallel to the coast. As the forts faded from view, I felt some of the tension leave my body; the rest would remain until we offloaded our prisoners. A movement on the spar distracted me as Shayla joined me.

  “You’ve got a story to tell?” she asked, reaching out to caress my face.

  “I do, but I’d like to get up the coast a bit and lose our hostages.”

  “Can’t say I blame you for that. Just want to say thank you.”

  Though separated by several feet lest we unbalance the spar, I felt as close as I ever had to her. “I’d give anything for you.”

  “I love you, Nick Van Doren, and I’ve got a bit of a surprise.”

  We locked eyes.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  It was the last thing I expected, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, I knew it was the thing I wanted most. I couldn’t speak; instead, I Ieaned in and kissed her deeply, nearly upsetting our balance. It was a long kiss, a happy kiss, but when we finally separated all I could think of was what lay ahead before we could truly be a family.

  “Lucy knows. Of course she sniffed it out. So, if Blue knows, the rest of the crew does as well.”

  Blue was a master of many things, but keeping a secret was not one of them. I always knew when he had something to tell, as his cheeks puffed out as if he were about to blow a dart.

  “We’ll get married, then?”

  “Right, then, Mr. Van Doren. We will, but first we need to escape these vile waters.”

  We stayed together both lost in our own thoughts watching the darkened outline of the island as we sailed past. Many islands in the northern Caribbean were flat and bare, but Cuba had a unique coastline outlined by her inland mountains. The moon gave enough illumination to see where we were, and I thought I spied the beach where we had careened the ship.

  “There it is, then.” I pointed to the spot. Shayla confirmed it, and we both climbed down. It was time to offload our cargo.

  I felt ten pounds lighter when my feet hit the deck, and I could see by the looks on the men’s faces as they turned toward Shayla and I that they knew—possibly before me.

  “Right, then. Rhames!” I called the old pirate over and we discussed the best way to get the men to the beach.

  “Be safer during the day,” he said.

  Rhames liked to see his targets. “Tonight. See that it happens.” He turned with a mischievous smile.

  “And no blood,” I warned him. His plans for revenge against the first mate exposed, his shoulders sagged slightly as he walked off.

  I looked at Shayla, about to ask her to climb back into the rigging and keep watch, but suddenly stopped, thinking about my baby in her belly.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” she called me out.

  Holding my breath as she climbed, I released it when she was secure in her perch. Having someone aboard with Lucy’s skills was a godsend. At the first opportunity, once our cargo was discharged I planned on consulting her. With Shayla safe above, I went to the helm.

  “Be good to get rid of them vermin,” Mason said, as I approached.

  “No problem in the dark?”

  He looked around. “Bright as a baby’s face.” He gave me his crooked smile, telling me he knew as well.

  “Right, then. Let’s get this bit of business finished.”

  Just as I said it, I heard a scream from the hold.

  Chapter 33

  Rhame
s had a smug look on his face. “I know what you told me, but the bastard bit me.”

  A trickle of blood dripping from his mouth, the first mate lay unconscious on the deck.

  “Right, then. Get them out of here.” Being stacked in the hold for several days had dehumanized them. Instead of dealing with people, I found myself looking at problems, and was beginning to understand the tendency that pirates had for killing their captives.

  We were hove-to in fifty feet of water about a quarter mile off the coast. It would have been easier to dispose of the prisoners if we had anchored closer, but we were in enemy waters. If they found us, being pinned against a lee shore would mean certain death. The row through the breakers was longer, but our foremost priority had to be a quick escape if needed. On our starboard side, the open sea beckoned, and I couldn’t wait to be free of the island.

  The instant the skiff returned from its last trip I could feel the relief spread through myself and the crew. Mason called out an order. The sails snapped, picking up the wind, and we started to move, the ship feeling lighter than the collective weight of the Spaniards we had disembarked.

  The current running the opposite direction of our course through the Straits of Florida made it necessary to hug the landmass, which haunted us until noon the next day, when we finally broke free of its grasp. Mason executed a wide turn around the Banco de San Antonio, where for the second time in a week we left behind riches under our keel. I knew the cargo of the ship that Harp had sunk lay below us, but the location was too well-traveled to make recovery viable. When the Isle de los Pinos finally dropped below the horizon, the burden of the past weeks dropped from my shoulders. There was still the matter of Red and Swift, but there was nothing I could do about it at the moment.

  With nothing but open water until we reached the Caymans, and badly needing sleep, I left the ship in Mason’s hands. Crossing the threshold of our cabin, hoping for nothing but peace and quiet, I saw the space had been turned into a sewing room, with Shayla and Lucy consumed in the manufacture of baby clothes. Not wanting to disturb them, I went back on deck, found a comfortable place by the bowsprit, and lay down. They say fair winds and following seas are a sailor’s dream, and in this case, with the gentle breeze behind us, the ship rolled with the long swell, which soon had me fast asleep.

  Several times I awoke, but nothing had changed. Discharging the prisoners and leaving Cuba behind had left the crew feeling the relief and exhaustion that often followed a battle. It takes longer for some than for others, but when the tension leaves your body, there is nothing to do but sleep. Feeling I’d had my share of slumber, I rose, and walked back to the binnacle, stopping at the cask of water for a drink.

  “I’d forego the dog watches and give them a bit more rest.” The two watches between four in the afternoon and eight in the evening were two hours, rather than four, allowing the crew’s schedule to shift every day. Making the afternoon and evening watches six hours each would be welcome.

  “Place a keen eye above. Unless we see a sail, I’d cut it in half as well.”

  I could see the deep lines in Mason’s face as he spoke and I expected a mirror would show that I looked the same. “I’ll relieve you for the next watch. Get some rest.”

  Mason nodded and left without a fight. It was unusual for him, but unless something changed, our course would be a dead run southeast for a hundred-twenty miles. If the present conditions held, we would sight the two small islands mid-afternoon tomorrow. Until then, the best thing I could do was to make sure the crew was well-rested. Whether we found Harp or not, the hundreds of miles we planned on traveling past those islands were uncharted waters for all of us.

  There was one area of concern. Our exit from Havana had left us no time to provision. Lashing the wheel, I called to one of the freedmen to man the helm while I went below to check out stores. We’d originally been outfitted for a week with essentially a double crew, the Spanish and ours. We’d only stayed out for half that time, and I expected Rhames had offered up reduced rations to the prisoners, as the Spanish had done for us. Checking the barrels and crates, I figured we had three days of water and food.

  Should the Caymans prove inhospitable, I had no desire to sail east to Jamaica. Once a pirate haven, the word was out that the British had cleaned out the island. The Mexican coast loomed large and close, but we’d had our share of trouble there as well. That decision could wait, though. The first order of business was to rescue Swift and Red from the cook-pot. Then I would have my revenge on Harp. The Spanish and English would be after him as well, and he knew from my warning about the dangers of the Yucatan with Lafitte’s ships on the prowl. The smaller Cayman Islands made sense for him, as well.

  It was an uneventful night. Relinquishing the wheel to Mason for the morning watch, I could see the change in him. Rhames was moving about as well, and before I retired, we discussed the weaponry and tactics should we find Harp. The twinkle was back in his eye, but it was clouded. Swift and Red were his brethren and he relished the thought of doing Harp in once we found them, secure in the knowledge that this time I would allow him freedom in his revenge. He and his men would be battle-ready. Leaving the deck, I descended to my cabin, thankfully finding the sewing business over and Shayla asleep on the bunk.

  Climbing in next to her, I felt the heat of her body and breathed the smell of her hair. She rolled over and placed an arm over my chest, which I grasped and held tight. Drawing each other close, my sleep was delayed, but when I drifted off, there was surely a smile on my face.

  Instead of sunlight it was a cool breeze that woke me. It came with the smell of rain through our single open window, the small glass having been removed to make the diving gear. Wondering why I hadn’t been notified of a change in the weather, I climbed out of bed and dressed. Shayla cracked an eye open, her smile almost making me return to our bunk, but another gust blew through the open hole.

  “Weather.” At sea the word needed little expansion.

  “A piece of glass would be nice,” she said, pulling the frayed blanket around her.

  “I’d just as well have Harp’s schooner.” Aside from the brief conversation on the spar yesterday, we’d spoken little since leaving Havana. From the expression on her face, I could tell she had an eye on revenge as well.

  The crew sought blood too, but I knew I had to keep all our emotions in check or we were likely to make a deadly decision.

  “We could try and see your father in Grand Cayman,” I said, trying to change the subject. Phillip ran a small pub on the large island. He’d helped us salvage the Ten Sail wreck, and had left with us, but never found his sea legs.

  “Changin’ the subject, are you.”

  “We could marry there. Maybe with the baby, he’d come with us.”

  “Now there’s a thought, but what about the governor?”

  It had been two years since we’d been to Grand Cayman. When we’d left, our holds had been full of silver, a lion’s share of which the governor thought he was entitled. “Could be there’s a new man.” It was possible. The Brits didn’t fare well in the tropics and often returned to England as soon as their posting ended. If we found and captured Harp, we had another option that might legitimize the entire operation. Handing him over in a British port might result in his ship being awarded to us as a prize.

  “Don’t think I can’t read your mind, Nick Van Doren. Be gone with you.”

  I was dismissed, but the conversation wasn’t over, and I decided to postpone my decision on how to deal with Harp until we actually found him. Leaving Shayla with a kiss on the forehead that soon turned into a passionate embrace. We were almost back in the bunk when a call from the deck forced me to leave her.

  The schooner had been spotted.

  “We could use you on watch if you’re up to it.” It was the wrong thing to say, but my mind was focused on Harp.

  “Don’t you be treating me like an invalid.”

  Despite the weather the ship was bustling with activi
ty. On my way above, several of Rhames’s men crashed into me as they hustled to the gun deck. Stepping aside to allow them to pass, I found myself staring at Rhames.

  “Found the bastard.”

  “Why wasn’t I alerted?” Things had gone farther than my liking.

  He shrugged, trying to hide his smile. I got the feeling he had delayed long enough to reach the point of no return before I was consulted. “Mason said—“

  We were interrupted by a loud boom. My first thought was that we were taking fire, but a flash of lightning brought my attention to the dark skies behind us. Just as I saw it, rain blew in sheets, forcing me to cover my eyes. “And the storm?”

  “A blessing from the gods,” he said.

  Chapter 34

  The storm loomed behind us. In front, the three masts of the schooner rose above the low island. From this angle Little Cayman and her sister, Cayman Brac, appeared to be one landmass. The illusion revealed how small they really were—just over twenty miles between them. Harp’s ship sat at anchor about a third of the way up Little Cayman. It was a good anchorage for the prevailing winds, but the storm changed those. With the wind at our backs they were now against a lee shore. It would take a skilled captain to keep the ship from grounding. Harp was in no condition to command, and his first mate, who had tried to escape with us, was long forgotten in the Havana prison.

  I could see now why Mason and Rhames hadn’t bothered to wake me. If not for the storm, Harp would have the upper hand, but with the current conditions we could sail straight towards him, allowing the schooner no chance to maneuver or escape.

  A long bolt of lightning lit the sky followed by a crash of thunder. The sound was a distinct crack, not the long rumble of a faraway storm. Looking at the black sky, I realized the squall might cause us more trouble than Harp.

  “We’ll come straight at ‘em.” Mason called to the men braving the rain in the rigging to reef the large square-sails. “Rhames’ll make the call when to turn.”