Buccaneers Series

by Linda Lee Chaikin

  Zeddie climbed after her as though he were climbing a ship’s rigging and perched on the branch below.

  Her heart still pounding in her ears, Emerald realized that up here, if it were light, she could see the encampment as well as the beach and sea. The sounds of conflict raged, and the barking dogs terrorized the night. She covered her ears at the sounds of torture and wept silently, crying out to the Lord for strength and mercy.

  Her father, had he gotten away? And Minette, had she been able to hide in the darkness?

  When the sky brightened, Emerald looked with horror upon the scene below. Bodies lay strewn across the encampment, some with unspeakable atrocities done to them. She understood now more clearly that this expedition by the Spaniards had been dispatched to exterminate trespassers, not take prisoners.

  She watched the soldiers, wearing their traditional brimless conical steel caps, gather from all directions to their captain, who stood pointing down the beach and calling orders.

  Beyond the beach, she saw a Spanish barca longa, manned by chained slaves, dropping anchor. She stared as a Spaniard in a striped red-and-white shirt stepped to the sand, shouting commands. An important visitor seemed to be arriving.

  The newcomer, wearing a gray monastic robe belted by cords, was assisted down from the barca longa. He strode up the beach toward the encampment, escorted by a Spanish officer donned in a scarlet cloak worn over a steel corselet.

  Emerald’s breath caught sharply. Here came the capitán, dragging Minette. He flung her down before the friar’s sandaled feet.

  The hooded figure produced a rosary. “You kiss crucifix?”

  “I—I can’t. My—my Great-uncle Mathias taught me that it’s i-idol worship!”

  A circle of soldiers in steel headpieces and breastplates moved forward threateningly.

  The friar again offered the glinting silver.

  Emerald’s heart surged with such overwhelming pain and horror that she thought it would burst. For a moment, in mindless emotion, she stirred on the branch, thinking to climb down and rush to Minette’s aid.

  But Zeddie whispered harshly, “We can do nothing, lass! Pray! Pray! Only Christ can save her!”

  Emerald shut her eyes so tightly that her pounding heart sent pulse waves. Tears wet her face, and her sore and stiff fingers clutched the tree limb.

  “Praise God,” murmured Zeddie, “at least the friar’s taking her. Those devils won’t touch her now.”

  Emerald opened her eyes and blinked hard, trying to see what was happening on the beach. Taking her?

  She watched Minette being escorted back down the beach toward the barca longa. Dazed, Emerald stared after her.

  Minette! Oh, Minette!

  When the barca longa bore the Spaniards out to sea, Emerald climbed down from the branches. Despairing, she sank to a rotting tree trunk, head in hand. “I must find her again,” she sobbed. “There must be a way!”

  Zeddie awkwardly patted her shoulder, sniffing back his own tears. “Sure now, if there’s a way, we will. We will. God is good, an’ we will. Your father will know what to do, and then there’s the viscount ye can turn to. Sink me! Captain Foxworth will be riled aplenty is my guess!”

  Yes, she thought, with a fresh surge of hope that brought strength. If there was any man who might be able to help her rescue Minette, it would be Baret Buckington.

  The first thing they did, by unanimous consent, was to kneel and pray for Minette and for her father and to thank Him for their own safety.

  Then, while Emerald satisfied her thirst from Zeddie’s water skin, he looked back in the direction of the encampment. “If anyone’s yet alive, they will need help. And I will look for your father.”

  Was her father alive? Had he been able to conceal himself in time? What if he’d gone back when Minette screamed, thinking to deliver her from the clutches of the Spaniards? She feared to even consider what Zeddie might find.

  “I can walk some … you mustn’t go alone.” She stood, masking her apprehension.

  “Nay, m’gal, you don’t know these devils of the guarda costa. The dead are not a sight I’d wish you to see. Wait here. If your father managed to save himself, he’ll be out looking for us too. Not that I expect to find any of the others alive.” Grimly he set off on the grotesque task before him.

  Emerald’s anxious thoughts returned to Baret. If it was true that his ship was anchored out of sight somewhere near Cumaná, could they locate him? Would he have heard the gun battle between the Madeleine and the Black Dragon?

  The day grew hotter as the sun climbed in the morning sky. And then Zeddie returned, sooner than she had expected, shaking his head and mopping his brow.

  “There’s no sign of your father. Maybe he was able to hide same as we. Or he may have gone on for help to the boucan hunters—or toward the cove where Captain Foxworth is expected. We can’t stay here, m’gal—we best follow on.”

  She swallowed. “Then the crewmen from the Madeleine are also dead?”

  “There’s not an Englishman could live through what took place during the wee hours. Lex Thorpe and his pirates is all dead too, what’s left of ’em. Pirates or no, I wouldn’t wish the fate of fallin’ to the hands of Spaniards on any man, not even Thorpe.”

  Emerald swallowed, a sick taste in her mouth.

  “But they’ll treat Minette well. Sure they will.”

  Her eyes moistened. “There’s no use, Zeddie. They won’t. Why should they? They’ll make her a slave, I know that. Or worse.” She stood and gazed out toward the sea, troubled. “And I told her before we went to sleep last night that the Lord was our safety, our only bulwark.”

  He straightened his leather baldric, scowling, as though uneasy with the direction of the conversation. “And so He is. Nary a thing can change that. Not death, not life, not suffering, not witless trouncing.”

  Her bruised faith stirred to the trumpet call only briefly, then sank again into hopelessness. “Yes, but He’s permitted the enemy to break through our wall of defense.”

  “So it looks, m’gal.” He sighed with resignation, then brightened. “Then sink me! If’n that’s so, then He allowed it for a goodly purpose, now didn’t He? Ye have to admit that much! He’s the God He says He is, good and wise and faithful.”

  “Mathias would say so.” She agreed but found that admitting what her godly Puritan great-uncle had taught her while she was growing up on Foxemoore did not end her struggle with emotional exhaustion and disappointment. Furthermore, her ankle had swollen, and she wondered how she could walk six miles to a cove where the hope of finding Baret’s ship was merely a possibility. And if it wasn’t there, then what?

  Remembering again how the Lord had taken her beloved great-uncle away from her through the doorway of death increased the loss she felt now over Minette and her father. Yet, through it all, lodged within her soul, faith in all that she knew to be true of God and His Word remained untouched by the attacks of the devil’s hordes. For my faith is founded upon a Rock. I may shake and tremble, but the Rock on which I stand remains firm and steadfast beneath me.

  The trustworthiness of God was based upon His character. The trials, the unexplainable tragedies of life, must wait in faith, not in sight, for understanding. It was enough now to trust the wisdom and purpose of God for good to all who trusted Christ.

  Zeddie cleared his throat and cocked an eye at her. “Anyway, she’ll be all right, because she pleased the friar.”

  She looked at him for explanation.

  “I wasn’t going to say, but maybe I should, so ye won’t worry as much. She kissed the crucifix.”

  Emerald remained silent. For Minette to have done so, in light of the religious wars raging in Europe, was tantamount to committing idolatry in the minds of those so recently embarking on the journey of the Protestant Reformation. Multitudes adopting the Reformed faith were being put to the horrors of the Inquisition rather than submit to religious ritual and tradition imposed by Rome. And refusing to show allegiance t
o the Church by kissing the crucifix or a statue of Mary had already sent many of the Reformers to horrible deaths.

  But she could not bring herself to be disappointed with Minette. At least there was hope for her safety until they could find her. Emerald’s heart was solaced. She avoided Zeddie’s eyes and brushed the sand flies from her face.

  He must have guessed her reaction, and he cleared his throat again. “She’s only a child, I’m thinking. We best be moving on, m’gal,” and he took her arm, turning her toward the foothills.

  Emerald glanced behind her toward the encampment, shuddering. “What of the Madeleine?”

  “The guarda costa took both ships. I heard ’em saying as much to that jackanapes capitán when we was up the tree.”

  The Spaniards had taken the ship, and they were marooned in Spanish territory, which gave no friendly quarter to intruders. Baret and the Regale were their one chance of escape.

  “M’gal, there’s no going back to anything. What hope we have lies ahead.”

  “Would my father have left a trail?” she asked hopefully.

  “Nay, never. Thinking something might go wrong and Thorpe might find him gone and follow. He’d be as careful as I must be.”

  He was right, of course, and she said nothing more.

  Zeddie went on to reassure her that he, too, was acquainted with the ways of the wild cow hunters and that the route they now traveled would bring them into contact. The hunters usually hunted beyond the foothills, where many savannas ran near the shore. He and Karlton had spotted their smoke.

  It was in the meadows, Zeddie explained, that the small red cattle and swine multiplied, feasting on the grasses, lemons, and yams that were in full supply. They had been brought many years earlier by Spanish colonists and then abandoned. The animals had increased into free-ranging herds and had become a food source for the island’s Protestants, driven out of France by persecution. But Spain allowed for no heretics in any domain she claimed as her own, and she often sent raiders here to hunt and kill them.

  “‘Tis my guess the hunters already know what’s happened here last night,” Zeddie said.

  “You mean they may have seen the Spanish ship arrive?”

  “And also leave, is my guess. Aye, the hunters are a rough sort—an’ clever. Many have already abandoned these parts because the Spaniards wouldn’t let ’em hunt in peace. Along with the boucaniers from Hispaniola, they formed the Brotherhood on Tortuga. Those who are left here are always on the watch for the guarda costa. Thorpe should’ve known better—but he had a folly for rum. A man’s appetite for his favorite sins is usually the bait the devil will use to trap him.”

  Then he looked at her ankle and shook his head. “You can’t go a-walkin’ with a swollen ankle like that.”

  She tried, venturing several painful steps that soon frustrated her progress. “Oh, Zeddie, there’s no use! I’ll never make it. It would take days at this pace.”

  “I can carry you.”

  “And wear yourself out? No, the only wise thing to do is for me to hide myself here until you get through to Captain Foxworth.”

  “Aye, or I could make a walkin’ stick to aid you.”

  “You’ll travel twice as fast without me. And should my father return, I’ll be waiting for him. We’ll both be here when you get back.” She wondered that her voice was steady, showing none of her doubt.

  “The Spaniards are as thick as locusts! We’re nigh Porto Bello!”

  “Leave me you must. It’s our best chance to find Baret. It’s not likely the guarda costa will come again soon. They were satisfied, or they wouldn’t have set sail.”

  He still frowned at the idea of leaving her behind. “Ye have the pistol Foxworth gave you?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry. Did we not just agree our faith looks to God? We have prayed and trusted our way to Him. Whatever befalls us must first pass through His sovereign will.”

  The frown did not lessen, but he nodded. “Aye, then with that we part, m’gal. And may God speed me on my way. Let us hope your father was right when he said Captain Foxworth was to set in at Cumaná, lest I walk into a nest of Spanish cockleburs!”

  Emerald listened to his footsteps diminish through the dense vegetation until silence surrounded her. Her heart thudded, and fear settled in like fog. She was alone, just like Minette. Minette must face the ordeals that would await her at whatever her destination on the Main.

  And I must listen to the buzzards! She covered her ears with both hands, shutting her eyes. I must be brave. I’m not really alone.

  She glanced then toward the distant foothills. Between them lay dense vegetation. The wooded area nearby was thick with cedar, oak, mahogany, and gri-gri trees. Had she not been so despondent, she would have enjoyed the scenery and the myriad lovely birds that flew among the branches. Thrushes, warblers, quail, and ground doves joined green-and-yellow flocks of squawking parrots. Carpenter birds left off their boring at the trunks of ceiba and ycao trees when they saw her, and fled.

  The temperature turned hotter and more humid. Emotionally exhausted, she slapped at the insects and peered at the glaring sun. Longingly she remembered her hat aboard the Madeleine.

  Unfortunately, something far more precious was aboard her father’s ship—the satchel containing Uncle Mathias’s translation of the African chants. Like Minette, his work too had slipped through her fingers. If only they had sailed for Barbados to catch a merchant ship for England.

  Even now, Baret must think her safely embarked, never thinking her father would bring her with him on the Main. If Baret could see her now! Her dress torn and soiled, her hair unbound and most of the pins lost, her skin becoming sunburned—

  Her thoughts collided with the sound of vegetation crunching beneath someone’s feet. Thorpe’s crew of pirates were all dead—her eyes darted toward her pistol. She had set it down beneath her cloak under a tree only a few feet away, yet if she made any move to retrieve it, the twigs would snap.

  The footsteps slowed, hesitated. Anyone could find the trampled path they had carelessly taken in their flight last night. She’d been unwise to remain here. Not even Zeddie had expected anyone to remain alive. Could it be her father? Yes! Of course! She took a step. The leaves crackled. She wavered.

  Her anxious gaze darted about, and her heart lurched as a man stepped out from the thick vegetation, moving warily as a tiger. She stared, dismayed.

  “Ye take me for a fool?” Thorpe said. “Do ye think I’d drink that foul rum? If Vane wasn’t such a daw cock, he’d be alive now too. I can’t watch him every moment, now, can I? While I was trailin’ your father, Vane was guzzlin’. ‘Tis no matter to me, seein’ there’ll be more out of this enterprise for meself.” An evil grin turned his mouth. “Now move, gal. It’s you and me.”

  He had trailed her father! Did this mean he’d found him? Killed him? There was still the hope of Zeddie’s getting through to Baret.

  As if he were reading her thoughts, his eyes turned cold. “An’ don’t pin your anchor on that one-eyed nape. I’ve sent a man after him. He’ll be food for buzzards come this afternoon.”

  She made a brave effort to reach her cloak, the pistol, but her ankle throbbed, and Thorpe sprang, catching hold of her roughly.

  “Traitorous wench!” Ignoring her cry, he dragged her back in the direction of the encampment and the beach. “Shut ye’r tongue, now, lest I give ye a heap more to yowl about. We’ll be making for Margarita soon as Levasseur gets here. D’ye thinks I didn’t know your yellow-livered father stole off to Cumaná lookin’ for Foxworth?”

  She struggled to jerk away. “You fiend! What did you do to my father!”

  He gave a vicious laugh. “He’s tied, keepin’ comp’ny in the sweet sun with the buzzards feastin’ on Vane.”

  She let out a cry of rage, but his grip was like an iron trap. “A tigress, eh? I’d flay your bones if ye weren’t a temptin’ morsel for Foxworth to pay me for!” With a vicious flourish, he shoved her ahead violently. Her spr
ained ankle gave way, and she landed on the ground, scratching her face.

  He came up behind her and gently placed a boot on her hand as though he would grind it into the dirt. “More sass an’ ye’ll be wishin’ the filthy papists took ye like your wench cousin. Now get up!”

  “You can’t just leave my father tied in the sun. He’ll die!”

  “An’ why not, I ask? I can tell Foxworth the Spaniards got him wi’ the others. Wot’s Harwick good for, eh?” He grinned at her.

  “You’ll never get out of here without a ship! I don’t believe you have my father. You’re lying.”

  “Don’t try me patience.” He stood. “I ‘ave him. An’ he’ll be playing things my way now. He played the traitor, an’ for that he’ll suffer. As for how I get a ship, don’t ye be botherin’ your head about it. Levasseur will be showin’ soon, and we’ll sail on the Venture. An’ if it’s the last deed I do, I’ll get the Black Dragon back too.”

  “I—I can’t walk. I hurt my ankle.”

  “Ye’ll walk all right, an’ be quick aboot it too.”

  When they arrived back at the encampment, Emerald turned her head away, sickened by the sight of buzzards hopping and quarreling among the carcasses. Then she stifled a cry when she saw her father tied to a tree in the sweltering sun.

  Thorpe didn’t stop her when she struggled toward him, grimacing from the pain in her ankle.

  “Father…”

  His swollen eyes opened and showed signs of life when he recognized her. “Untie him!” she told Thorpe. “Can’t you see neither one of us can get far in our condition? If anything happens to him through your neglect, I’ll tell Captain Foxworth. You’ll never get any of the treasure your soul covets.”

  “Stop squawkin.’” He turned to a half-dozen survivors who came up from the beach, scowling—presumably at the loss of the Black Dragon and their fellow pirates.

  “Levasseur’s ship ain’t nowheres in sight, cap’n. Suppose he don’t come? We’re marooned.”

  “He’ll come. The Venture’s due tonight. He’s watchful of the Spaniards is all.” He gestured with his head toward Emerald and Karlton. “Take ’em down to the water’s edge. No need to tie ’em. They’s both in a bad way. The smell in camp is gettin’ to me.”