I didn’t know if I should be happy or sad that I was following in my father’s footsteps. “We were taken by pirates.”
“And now, some might say you are one,” one of the men said.
There was more brow-mopping and throat-clearing before Hendrik, who appeared to be their leader, spoke. “We’ve heard of your exploits reclaiming treasure from the sea. Perhaps there is a way to repay your family’s debt.”
Now we were getting to the heart of it. I waited for the details.
“Your father had compelling evidence about the location of a treasure.”
This was starting to sound familiar. I nodded and let him continue.
“The Dutch were accommodating to the Jews forced from Spain during the Inquisition. Many were able seamen and traders, all needed in the New World. Under the seal of the Netherlands, letters of marque were issued to some, and in exchange for the protection of our government, the captains were free to pursue the Spanish treasure galleons. Many prospered, and the Spanish were crippled by their actions, but the sea takes its own share.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be excited or worried.
“We would propose a joint venture of sorts to recover one of the largest.”
“Moses Cohen Henriques, then?”
They set their handkerchiefs down and stared at me.
“You know of him?”
I explained our meeting Emanuel in Cozumel and finding the cache in the cenote, then the double-cross that had blown up our ship in the harbor there. I left their imaginations to the fate of the treasure.
“Fleeing the inquisitors in Brazil, and with his Sephardic roots, he originally sought safe haven here. Our predecessors granted his petition, but the Spanish found him before he could reach Curacao. From what we have gathered, one of his ships escaped and reached Mexico.”
Their story rang true. “And the location of the wreck?”
“That’ll require that we have a deal first,” Hendrik said.
The others’ heads bobbed up in down in unison. “I can’t very well start a negotiation without knowing what we are up against.” Escape was starting to sound like the best option.
Hendrik mopped his brow again. “Enough to say it is near shore.”
“How deep would the water be?”
“No more than ten fathoms.”
That was the outer limit of what we had dived, but if the water was protected, with the new gear we could do it. “And what do you have in mind, then?”
“We’ll need a surety, of course.” It was Abraham who spoke.
“And what if we have nothing to give?” They were confident that we had, and I wondered where they had gotten their information.
“The West India Company has a wide reach.”
That was as much of an answer as I was going to get. I knew the Dutch had a reputation as shrewd traders and merchants. Looking at my countrymen, tiring of the back and forth, I was ready to disavow my heritage. “What would be my father’s debt in gold?”
Abraham reached for a piece of parchment and quill. He started jotting down figures. With a flourish he pushed the paper toward me. “One hundred pounds.”
The amount was staggering, and likely an inflated number. He must have seen my shock.
“Bad decisions and interest. I can fully document the debt.”
At that point I was almost glad our ship had never reached port here. Considering my options, I sat and watched as they grew even more uncomfortable. “I can pay you ten percent as a surety. That’s all we have.”
They looked at each other, considering the offer. “Very well. That will show good faith. Now for the split.”
“I’ll take no less than an eighty percent share.”
“After your debt and expenses are paid.”
“Done.” Handing over ten pounds of gold would make a significant dent in our reserves, but I was looking forward, thinking it would be about the amount it would cost to fully provision the ship. Once our holds were full we could make our own decisions.
“Very well. Abraham will draw up the contract. Your ship will be allowed to anchor here and provision.”
For all the talk, it had turned out in our favor, but I was intrigued about my father. “Do you have the communication with my father?”
“We have his proposal. There is enough detail, I believe, to give you a place to start.”
My father had faded from my memory over the years. The chance to reconnect with him, even if it was through a ream of paper, excited me. “I’d like to have a look.”
“We’ll have to insist on the gold first.”
“Once my ship is here.” They looked relieved the negotiations had been completed and rose.
“Abraham will show you the town and introduce you to the merchants that might be of help in provisioning your ship.”
One at a time they filed out of the room, leaving me with Abraham. “I could use some air.”
He nodded and led me out of the room, down the hall, and out of the building. On arrival, I had been taken directly here and had seen nothing of the town. Now, as we walked the main street, I noticed the different-colored buildings. Abraham had started the tour with an explanation that some governor along the line had decreed that no building would be painted white. The result was a palette of colors. The town was neat and organized, much as you would expect from the Dutch.
As Abraham guided me from one shop to another, I kept an eye on the harbor, anticipating the arrival of the Dorado. Trying to calculate the time to determine when to expect them, I realized even in the best of circumstances they were still several hours away.
It was then that I realized the Dutch might have been craftier than I had anticipated. With a letter promising cooperation written in my own hand, the crew would not likely have resisted a boarding party. As it was our own skiff returning with the letter, they would be unprepared if there was foul play involved.
The thought made me anxious. I tried to dismiss the feeling, reminding myself that this negotiation was not personal, but business with the Dutch West India Company. If there was a glimmer of hope that the venture would be profitable, they would do whatever was required. Even the prospect of recouping some of my father’s debt would be enough to keep them honest.
Chapter 41
The Dutch had a reputation for being shrewd, and they proved true to their word. With the Dorado anchored in the harbor, Mason supervised provisioning the ship, while Rhames drilled the men and serviced the weaponry. Within a week of arrival we were in as good a shape as we had been for the last two years.
Henrik had taken the ten bars of gold as surety. My father’s debt aside, that would put the town’s merchants in the black, for our bills to date. I learned a little more about my countrymen as the week went by, and quite a bit about my father. A series of letters were handed over to me. The first, dated, two years before we set sail for America, was his initial query. Over the next two years the correspondence piled up and finally ended with a contract.
After reading the letters, it was like my own voice springing from the pages; I had little doubt my father was the writer. The excitement was palpable, though after careful study—unless there was more evidence—the facts seemed questionable.
The West India Company had approved his contract, loaning the stated ten-thousand guilders as an advance against earnings. As I calculated how much the trip and other expenses would have been, it dawned on me, as a cruel irony, that Gasparilla had taken the lion’s share. Resigning myself to the facts, I started to dig into the research. Though not as fanatical as the Spanish at documenting everything, the Dutch were well organized and, with the help of an aging librarian, I soon had in front of me several large books and maps.
Shayla was by my side as we waded through the information. With the exception of a short period ending with the Napoleonic wars in 1815, when the islands were under French rule, the Dutch had administered the islands since the 1600s. The long period of stability had left an uninterr
upted historical account of the area. Though Dutch was the official language, Spanish was commonplace. Fortunately, the language hadn’t changed much over the centuries, and I was still able to read most of the Dutch accounts while Shayla worked on the Spanish.
Piracy and slavery had both played prominent roles in Curacao’s history, but there was no longer evidence of either. In fact, the region, largely unsuitable for planting due to its arid climate, with the decline of the slave trade seemed to have fallen on hard times. Slowly, we were able to separate the relevant journals from the other record books, and our history lesson started.
Brazil had been under Dutch rule in 1628 when Henriques had found refuge there. His retirement didn’t last long, as the Portuguese took control of the country in 1630. The Inquisitors weren’t far behind and Henriques had started north, hoping to settle in the Dutch-ruled Netherland Antilles. An infamous and wealthy pirate in what was then a pirate’s den was no place for Henriques and he moved on, but not before losing his flagship off a nearby island. It was that ship my father had sought.
Shayla pushed a journal toward me. “There’s an account in Spanish here.”
I’d come a long way in learning Spanish, but the two-hundred-year-old writing was like a different language. My eyes drifted away from the text and focused on a hand-drawn map on the adjacent page.
“What island is that?” I pointed to an oval-shaped island with another, smaller island just off a north-facing bay.
“Bonaire. Just to the east of us,” Shayla said.
Three main islands comprised the Netherland Antilles: Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao. From what I had seen of Curacao, it was covered with quite a bit of lava, remnants of long-dead volcanoes. The presence of volcanic rock and limestone meant there would be caves. A sudden storm had swept us into a cenote, a limestone cavern system in Cozumel. After a wild ride through the underground river we had found Herniques’s cache in a cavern near its end. The coincidence in this island’s geologic composition needed serious consideration.
“Maybe something to have a look at. From the map here, the eastern exposure looks promising.” The location added to the authenticity of my father’s claim. If Henriques was in trouble he would have secreted his treasure, and where better than a cave accessible only from the sea? The prevailing winds made the location difficult to access, but if the treasure had been hidden there, it would also be hard to find. We knew Henriques had survived to place the cache in Cozumel, but my gut told me my father was onto something.
“We should tell the others,” Shayla said, rubbing her eyes.
I was tired of sifting through documents in the dim light of the library. Tucking the journal under my arm, I squinted in the bright sunlight as we left the building. The pier was still busy with small boats shuttling goods to the ship. We hopped on the next boat headed for the Dorado, to the dismay of the man at the helm, for our weight meant he could carry less cargo. Reaching the rope ladder, I couldn’t help but smile as I watched Shayla climb ahead of me. Now that I knew she was pregnant, I could see her curves had shifted slightly. My heart nearly skipped a beat when her foot slipped, but she easily regained her balance and swung onto the deck. The incident served to remind me that we needed to find a safe port for her to have the baby.
The crew was all smiles as they watched the provisions come aboard. Never in our travels had we had this much in our stores. Pigs and chickens were dropped into the aft hold, promising a welcome respite from our diet that had previously consisted mainly of fish.
“How much more?” I asked Mason.
“Should about do it. We’ll do a walk-through later. How about a destination?”
“Bonaire.”
“There’s nothing but bones and flamingos on that spit of land.”
“And treasure.”
His expression told me he was skeptical. Leading him to the binnacle, I took the book from my bag and laid out the marked page on the chart table.
“By God, if it’s not the same bastard.”
“Henriques,” I confirmed.
“And you’re thinking he uses a cave once and he’ll have done it again?”
“Makes sense. There is an account of his flagship being wrecked here. That’s a bad spot to face a blow or a battle.”
“Aye. Prevailing winds make it a lee shore. You say there’s caves there?”
I tapped the Spanish writing as if I could read it. Mason couldn’t either, but we stared at the writing like it spoke to us. “It’s only a day’s sail. No harm in having a look.”
“Right, these bastards seem a bit more hospitable than Lafitte or the Spanish.”
“Just don’t cross them where business is concerned. They’d sell their first-born for a profit.”
“Your countrymen … “ He left the rest unsaid.
“Right, then. On the tide tomorrow.”
I walked away to seek out Rhames. As usual he was in front of the armory. With a cutlass braced between his foot and opposite leg, he rubbed a stone against the blade. A pile of sharpened steel glistened in the sun beside him. For now, he was doing what he’d always done; it would be at a time that steel was needed that we would see how his injury affected him.
“We’ve got a treasure to find,” I said, picking up one of the daggers in the pile and running my hand down its razor-sharp edge.
“Lot of good it’ll do me.”
Though his demeanor betrayed nothing, the tone of his voice did. The world was changing for both of us; me with a family on the way, and Rhames with his injury. I’d been doing a good deal of thinking on the matter.
“You were the one that told me about the bold pirates never getting old,” I said to him.
He exhaled. “There’s old pirates and bold pirates. Ain’t many old, bold ones.” He looked around the deck to see if anyone was within earshot, then lowered his voice. “Aye, but it’d be nice to choose the time of your undoing.”
I sat next to him and picked up a stone and dagger. Though not as adept as he was, the feel of steel against stone felt good. “With the baby coming, I’m in the same position.”
“You’re still a lad. Your better years lay ahead. I’m an old pirate …” He tried to leave the last bit unsaid.
“A legend, more like it. Take a step forward. Pick your battles and train your men. A good general doesn’t have to be in the thick of it.”
He gave me one of his queer looks that told me he didn’t understand. My father, and then Gasparilla, had ensured I had an education. I knew of the great generals: Alexander, Caesar, and more. “I’ve got your back.”
“And I appreciate that, but maybe it’s time for me to cash out and find a woman who can tolerate me.”
“If we find this treasure, we may all be able to cash out.”
Chapter 42
Gasparilla had preached that knowing your enemy was crucial to victory. The advice had served him well until the end. Knowing he was a target of the U.S. Navy, he had decided to call it quits. The morning of the fateful day, he had assembled the crew on the beach of Gasparilla Island to split our hoarded treasure, after which we would go our separate ways. Though the old pirate knew his enemy well enough to know it was time to retire, the Navy had studied their enemy as well. Disguising one of their frigates as a merchantman, they had sailed it close enough to our gathering to draw our attention.
Gasparilla had taken the bait and sailed the Floridablanca to her demise. Along with nine other crew assigned to guard the treasure, I had watched as the USS Constitution sank our ship. Gasparilla, wrapping himself in the anchor chain, had plunged to his death. That day was the beginning of a new life. My mentor might have died that day, but his lessons lived on inside me.
We had been lied to, stolen from, and almost blown up by our enemies. Now I had to decide what to do about the Dutch. They were a conundrum, and I wasn’t sure if I could trust them. Finally, it came down to business—and that was what they were all about.
“We’ve got full holds and a contract.�
� I held up the paper like it meant something.
“You’d trust the bastards over a piece of paper?” Rhames snorted.
The document had been passed around the group, but aside from Shayla, Mason, and myself, I wasn’t sure if the others could read.
“We’ve been all over this cursed sea and you expect this piece of paper to mean something?” Mason asked.
I understood their skepticism. The last few nights had been sleepless, as we wondered about the same things. In the end, it was Dutch history and not my heritage that swayed me. The Dutch East and West India Companies had ruled through trade, only resorting to violence to enforce their contracts.
“We’ve got nothing to lose by having a look, have we? If there’s nothing there, we’ve paid for our provisions, we’ll just move on.”
With some reluctance heads started to nod.
“Ain’t no point sitting here, then. Little to do in this blasted town anyway,” Rhames said.
“Right, then. We sail with the tide. I’ll be checking the gear, then.” I walked away, ending the conversation. Mason and I had already plotted our course. He would have command until we reached our destination. The divers followed me to the forward hold, where we had stored our equipment. Fresh lard was applied to the hoses and the pumps were checked. With two sets of headgear and the pumps from our old ship, we were well-equipped if we found a likely place. After a thorough inspection I left the divers to store the gear.
Just as I walked away from the divers, I heard Mason call for sail to be raised and the anchor weighed. Swearing that what happened on our departure from Grand Cayman would not happen again, I climbed the mast for a view of the surrounding water. The harbor lay quiet and, with no sails on the horizon, I relaxed in my perch as we got underway.
The last week had brought to the surface things that I had buried deep within me. Between the research, contracts, and provisioning of the ship, I’d had little time to ponder my past. As the ship settled into the seas I found myself thinking about my father. At first it had been a shock, and I couldn’t deny my disappointment on finding out he’d left me saddled with a debt. On reflection, though, my opinion changed. It was exactly as I would have done had I been in his place, and I found myself admiring him. Finding the treasure he’d sought would be sweet justice and a good starting point for our new life.
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