Knowing Cardozo was a protector of women, helped to ease my fears. But as he shoved me into his quarters with the other plundered men, I suddenly found myself far more annoyed than afraid. Damn it! This was not a part of my plan. I had been dreaming of getting my own place in Port Royal and possibly continuing to sail the seas to make my living, but it seemed my future had once again ended up in the hands of another stupid man.
“Welcome to my Beleza, gentlemen.” Captain Cardozo poured us each a glass of rum. “Sorry to disturb your outing in such a way, but business is business and we were down on men.”
None of the Englishmen offered a response, but the look on the captain’s face clearly stated that he was awaiting one. So, I spoke up. “Things don’t always go as planned, sir. But as sailors, we know how to adjust our sails when the weather shifts.”
His surprisingly white smile widened as he poured a second glass for me. “A double shot for you, sir! Tell me, oh witty sailor, what skills might you be gracing our crew with?”
“I’m just a simple sailor.” I reached for the shot he offered.
He raised his colorfully beaded chalice to meet my meager glass. “Ah, but here aboard my Beleza, you will see that simple sailors are paid much better and treated with far more respect than they are aboard those English merchantmen. In fact, I bet you will all be glad you made the change next time we pull ashore.”
Knowing what I did about the pay that pirates received for their hard work, my mind lit up with excitement. Perhaps this new heading would be to my benefit. Hell, I might even be able to buy myself a house and retire without ever having to touch the emergency gold Mason gave to me.
While I pondered the positive possibilities, Captain Cardozo brought out his articles of agreement, which none of us could read. Though the other men signed without hesitation, I tapped my chin as I looked over the words. “What language is this written in, anyhow?”
“Portuguese.” Cardozo squinted at me while stroking the braids in his beard.
“Oh. I was thinking Spanish, but I wasn’t quite sure.”
Furrowing his brow and clenching his teeth, he hatefully hissed, “The only Spanish things you will find on my ship are the bloodstains on my sleeves.”
Taking in the sight of the bloodstain on the lacy white sleeve peeking out from beneath his black coat, I held my hands up in surrender. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s all right.” he said to me, then invited me to stay as he shooed out the other men. Worried as to why he would want me alone, I struggled to remain calm as my fellow Englishmen left the room, but luckily, he returned with a pleasant expression. “I like you. I could use a man like you on my side.”
“Well, I know I have no choice in the matter, but I would like to know what it is I am signing before I commit to your side.”
“This is exactly what I mean. So many men, they sign with no care, they talk without reason, and they simply live with no regard. But you, here you are but ten minutes on my deck, and you are not only speaking with me like I am your mate, but you are asking to see just what you will be agreeing to. I like that.”
Surprised by his interest in me, I nodded. “My father taught me to read and write so I would be better off in the world, and I hold the privilege with high regard. Even higher now that it was once taken away from me.”
“Who took it?”
“My, uh, my master. I was a slave for a bit, but I broke loose and, well, now I am here.”
Playing with the beads in his beard, Cardozo smiled slyly. “You are. And after I explain my articles—which I am certain you will agree with—you will be free.”
Captain Cardozo took his time translating the code to me and was more than happy to answer all of my questions. The articles listed were not much different from those my mother had explained in her stories. Beyond the implications, I was sincerely thrilled to sign, but which alias would I choose to sign as my name?
Thinking over all of the names I had used in my day, I decided it was high time I claimed the surname I’d been robbed of. Grabbing the quill, I neatly signed the name Rory Bentley on the page.
“There you have it, good sir.” I passed the book to the captain.
He eyed my signature suspiciously. “Bentley, you say? Might you know the notorious Mason Bentley?”
Unsure of how I should respond, I tried to read his expression, but there was no way to tell how he felt about the man in question. “Do you know him?” I asked, trying to get a feel for his thoughts.
“I know of him.” He put his hands together like he was praying. “If you are wondering how I feel about the infamous buccaneer, then let me assure you, I revere him greatly. As you may have noticed from my prior comment, I have a deep, abhorrent hatred for the Spanish, and well, Mason Bentley, along with his friend, Black James Reid, were well-known enemies of that vile force. As some of the original Brethren of the Coast, men like them helped to build a successful stronghold against those treacherous dogs, and plundered their filthy wealth in ways I could only dream of.”
“Well, in that case, yes, I know him.” I smiled.
“What’s the relation?”
Rubbing the B on the locket Mason had given me, I answered, “I’m, well, he is…He is my father.”
“No shit?” He slapped his hand on the table. “I can’t believe it. I didn’t want to take your ship. I told them it was a shitload of horse dung, but look! This is a barrel of gold. You are Mason Bentley’s son, and I have been looking for him, well, someone like him, and what are the chances of this, eh? Ah, I have not heard anything about him in quite some time. Do you know where he is?”
“That I do not know. Last time I saw him he was leaving for Panama. He promised to come back to London but never did.”
“Panama.” Pausing for a moment, he hummed like he was plotting. “Do me a favor and don’t say a thing to my men about who you are.”
“All right. I didn’t hear any of them speaking English, anyhow. Do any of them?”
“They don’t. Not a one of them. Only me. And that is another reason I need you. You see, Pedro has been attempting to turn the vote against me. He says my hatred for the Spanish is interfering with their flow of business, and I suppose in a sense he is right. But this…” Slicing open a bag of sugar, he sifted the powder through his hand. “This is not the kind of treasure I am interested in. I want bigger things, Bentley. I want gold coated in Spanish blood, and if these men are too cowardly to go after it, then I need to find myself a new crew. A crew made of men who aren’t afraid of anything, like you.”
“Like me?” I jerked my head back.
“Yes. I can see it and sense it. You are fearless. Like that father of yours. I could tell by your stance among the surrendered that you would rather have fought us, and the look on your face when Pedro tried to take that woman, assured me that you and I are of like mind. It was because of my observations of you that I decided to take the English sailors for this cause. You see, Pedro, he doesn’t like the Englishmen, that is why he disputed my action to take you. He will always keep you low in rank and will only supply you with meager plunder. But I will treat your men as equals, and most importantly, I will make rich men of you all…But in order to make any of this happen, I need to know you are on my side.”
Intrigued by his plans and honored by his view of me, I thought back on all the fearful moments I had experienced and conquered. I suppose I was a bit like Mason, but I was certainly a lot like Midnight, and between the skills they had each gifted me, I knew I would be able to take on any obstacle thrown in my path. And I could already see this road would be one hell of a climb. Not only had I joined a pirate crew that was falling apart at the seams, but I had been handpicked by the captain to help uphold his side of the division. What would he do to me if I failed him? Or worse, what would Pedro do if he found I was working against him? There was no safe route to travel, but I certainly liked Cardozo better than Pedro, and overall, I had faith in my perseverance
.
I reached for the bottle of rum. While pouring myself another drink, I smiled at the captain. “We have an accord, Captain Cardozo.”
Chapter 9
Slave Chains
Sometime in March 1666
I don’t like Pedro. Not one bit. As if the way he tried to attack that helpless woman was not bad enough, the way he now treats us Englishmen is completely annoying. We signed up to be equals, but he sneers and snarls at us like we are but lowly servants, and has given us each shitty, miserable jobs. Captain Cardozo, on the other hand, goes out of his way to show us the respect we deserve. Though I am certainly thankful for the way Cardozo stands up for our rights, it is unnerving watching him and Pedro bickering and bantering at each other the way my mother and father did when I was a child.
As for the crew, well, the language barrier has kept me distant from the lot of them, but through sailing commands and time in the mess hall, I am picking up on some terms. By observing their ways, I’m coming to see who I dislike and who I plan to befriend as I learn to communicate with them. Knowing I am interested in his language, Cardozo has been more than happy to teach it to me—which I enjoy for much more than the lessons themselves. He is very funny in an intelligently sarcastic way, and though I had not noticed at first, behind that mangy ol’ beard is a rather good looking fellow. In his amusing company is where I spend most of my limited free time, and the fun we have easily makes up for the troubles Pedro causes me. So far, I like it here on the beautiful Beleza.
-Rory Bentley-
I believe it is April now.
Today we raided a French merchantman. Like Richards, their captain easily surrendered, and just like during that raid, Cardozo showed no interest in the taking. It was a joy watching him speak in French to the haughty little captain, though. As for me, well, I got high on the power. Holding those men at a standstill while my fellow pirates took what we needed, left me feeling like I’d finally made a stand in this insolent world. Now we are on our way to Portugal to spend our winnings. I can’t wait to buy whatever the hell I want with my own hard-earned loot!
Still April.
On our way to Portugal we came across a Spanish merchantman. Most of the men voted that our hold was full enough, but with his persuasive magic, Cardozo convinced them it would be worth the trouble to raid her. Making chase, he came alive in a way I had not seen before. His motivation was contagious. Power exuded from his pores. Watching the captain transform that mangy lot into battle strong warriors, assured me as to why Pedro had not yet overthrown his power. Pedro may be good at giving the men what they want, but Cardozo is a natural born leader, a captain and a navigator well versed in many languages and absurdly skilled behind the helm. The way he so graciously took reign of Beleza, and then the ship we invaded—tactfully plucking every item of worth from her tops to her bilge—only heightened my admiration for him. He promised us respect and wealth, and it was already apparent that he was beyond capable of delivering.
May 1666.
I love Lisbon, Portugal! The colorful town was built on the rolling coastal type plains near the mouth of the Tagus River, and the beautiful harbor channels out to the Atlantic, which made for gorgeous views in every direction. And with the exceptional Mediterranean climate, I was able to wander the busy streets and markets without worrying about sweat or frost. I liked that. During our stay, we spent most of our time at La Fortuna, a high dollar brothel house overlooking the harbor. Most of our crewmen scattered about the town, popping in and out throughout our visit, and since Cardozo stayed locked up in a room with Lena—the youngest and best kept whore in the place—I busied myself by making friends with the madam of the house, Antonia Diaz. Around twenty-five, with olive skin, dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, Antonia was the prettiest lady in the house, or maybe all the world. She spoke good English and ran a solid business, while her drunken husband spent his time upstairs “testing the quality of the whores.” As busy as Antonia was keeping things in order, and the way we talked and laughed, I figured she didn’t need him for much more than his ownership of the property. At times it seemed she wanted more from Rory than friendship, and it got a little tricky keeping her at bay, but sitting here in Cardozo’s cabin tonight—knowing we will be sailing away with the dawn—I am ever so proud of myself for once again making a friend, while successfully upholding my false identity.
Autumn1666.
It has been a while since I have written because I have been so bloody busy! Spain struck a war with Portugal so we’ve been long gone at sea, taking up port in France a couple of times to spend our earnings. The Bay of Bisque is lovely and Bayonne is a beautiful place. As usual, we spent most of our time ashore at brothel houses, playing cards and enjoying the whores.
Hearing Cardozo woo the cute little whores in their language made me wish I had a Frenchman whispering sweet things to me in that beautiful tongue. But as far as the world knows, I am a dirty rotten pirate man and the only affection I get is from the sluts who want my loot. There are times when I grow weary of the disguise—especially while enduring the constant discomfort of the coarse fabric I flattened my big ol’ tits with—but overall it’s worth the trouble. I may be dirty, the seas may get rough, and Lord knows the smelly berth I sleep in is no bed of roses, but I am respected for my skills behind the mast, I am learning different languages, and best of all, I am free!
Winter1666.
The last few weeks have been spent raiding fishing boats. Itty bitty fishing boats. Cardozo did all he could to sway the vote from such a stupid notion, and though I, and most of my fellow Englishmen, were on his side, the unruly majority won us over. Not only has the plunder been pathetic, but watching Pedro and his men mistreat the innocent fishermen, disgusted me to no end. Those of us who hated the task participated by holding the surrendered at bay, which meant keeping the stupid pirates from harassing them. Shitty as it has been lately, it is still better than the life I escaped in London, and I am looking forward to new horizons under Cardozo’s black flag.
-Rory Bentley, A Pirate of the High Atlantic Seas-
X
After another pathetic raid, I met with Cardozo in his cabin where I found him poking at one of the nets we robbed. “You see this, Bentley?” He stared blankly at the wet, smelly net.
“Yes, I smell it, too.” I pinched my nose shut.
“I can’t do that again. I won’t. I’ll let them keelhaul me for defiance before I ever again participate in such a deed. Pedro thinks he is so tough, pissing on those decks and stealing the meager earnings from those hard-working men. But he is nothing more than a coward.” His tone was sullen. A painful sadness filled his light brown eyes.
Unsure of how to respond to his strange display of emotion, I thought maybe I should leave him be. But I didn’t want to go back out on deck where the men were celebrating their stupid plunder. So, I sat down and poured myself a glass of rum. “I don’t like this shit either, mate. I hereby promise to defy any such orders, as well. We will feast on the barnacles side by side.” I raised my mug to meet his, only to realize he hadn’t poured a drink yet.
Sitting down in front of his maps, Cardozo smiled. “I believe the flavor of a prideful death will savor much better than the taste of a shameful life.”
Stunned by the powerful meaning of his well-spoken words, I found myself gazing dangerously deep into his warm brown eyes. Snapping myself out of the revealing trance, I shook my head and changed the subject. “So, uh, these maps you’re working on…How the hell does all of this navigation shit work?”
During the next hour, he explained to me the ridiculously intricate details of navigation. The consideration of elemental variables, the importance of timing, and the seriousness of the measurements impressed me as much as they overwhelmed me, but no matter how he tried to teach me, I just didn’t get it. The fact that I couldn’t wrap my mind around the science that he understood so clearly, raised my level of respect for him, yet again. Navigators like Miguel Cardozo, Sterling B
entley, and the Midnight Feather, were certainly ones to be revered.
Finishing off the bottle with no help from him, I sat back in my chair and belched. “Ah, tell you what, mate. You just tell me where to sail and I’ll get up in those yards to get you there, but this smart boy shit is all yours.”
“We have an accord, oh witty sailor. Now, listen to this. While holding up the man on that boat today, I talked to him about the war. Spain is out of the way and we should be able to reenter my favorite port without trouble.”
“Why is Lisbon your favorite?” I asked, figuring his answer would have something to do with Lena.
“It just is, but the Lord only knows how favorable it will be after the wreckage from the war.” Shaking his head, he started saying something about the parchment he was unraveling, but his sentence was interrupted by the sound of the watchman’s call. “Velas!”
“Sails!” we both blurted in unison.
We’d been wandering the less populated shores for so long we had not seen a tall ship in months, and the thought of coming upon a ship worth boarding excited us like children. Springing into action, we donned our baldrics and stashed our daggers. While preparing our flintlocks, we ran towards the door. Bumping into each other in the doorway like idiots, we laughed as we squeezed through and rushed out to the starboard gunnel to take a look at the possible treat.
Pulling out the spyglass Cardozo gave to me, I eyed the heavenly sight. There, on the western horizon, with the low afternoon sun coloring her clean white sails, a Spanish merchantman lumbered against her unfavorable winds. Excited as could be, I looked at Cardozo who was still admiring her through his glass.
The smile had left his face. His teeth were clenched down hard. Knuckles whitened by the grip he held on his glass, he somehow squeezed it tighter as he hissed, “It’s her.”
Never Surrender (Uncharted Secrets, Book 4): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 8