By the Knife

by Steve Partridge

  ‘Your cargo fetched a good price,’ Aasim told him, ‘and as a gift between friends I give you these two fine slaves.’ He pointed to two powerful-looking young men. ‘They will serve you well.’

  Carter had no idea of the value of this treasure and was sure he had been robbed. With the silver they had taken from the Lady May, however, it was enough. The slaves would make the crew up to fifteen; not many but he was keen to leave.

  ‘I ask one more thing,’ Carter told the Arab. ‘Give me two dozen robes of the kind your men wear and fresh food for our voyage.’

  ‘Of course.’ Aasim smiled. ‘You shall have all that you need.’

  The xebec was named the Assad; Carter had thought to rename her but had changed his mind. They would pose as Arabs this time.

  The two slaves spoke no English, but seemed to have a good knowledge of ships. Both were young and looked very fit.

  Aasim had armed each of them with a large, curved sword and dagger. Carter thought to disarm them but decided to risk leaving them with their weapons. If they were to be part of his crew they would need arms. The breeze was strong when the Assad spread her wing-like sails and stood out to sea.

  Watching from the same balcony as before, Aasim smiled to himself. Sending his nephews was perhaps a risk, but this brother had five sons and both boys had trained to be swordsmen in the sultan’s army and were considered to be the very best. They would pretend to be slaves until they could reach his son and warn him about Carter. Aasim had talked to them at great length. If the chance came they should assist this Fletcher and in so doing take back the treasure chest and any other wealth that they could find, but their first task was to protect Jameel.

  Jameel was not his only son, but he was the best; he was clever and would one day take over the family business. Jameel would keep Aasim in his old age. Jameel would marry a beautiful woman and give him beautiful grandchildren.

  CHAPTER 13

  As the xebec raced westward, Carter could not hide his delight. The Assad was the fastest ship he had ever sailed. She could almost sail into the wind. No frigate would catch her, not if there was a breeze he could work up into.

  Now once again his thoughts turned to Fletcher, not that the lieutenant was ever very far from his mind. He had to somehow get him off of his damned sloop. Killing him was not enough. He had dreamed of cutting the boy for almost two years; his death must be slow. Carter had to plan; he had to find some way of getting him to a place where he could scream but not be heard. He would keep him alive and in agony for days. Carter ran his fingertips over the scars on his face and the empty eye socket. There would be no single piece of Fletcher left whole, nothing. That night Carter paced the deck; he could not get the boy’s face out of his mind and no plan could he think of for Fletcher’s capture. As the dawn came up he realized he had misjudged the time; now they would pass Gibraltar in full daylight. He should find a bay to hide in until dark, but the rage would not let him.

  Damn the English navy; he would press on. His ship was fast; they would not catch him.

  This time he carried the tide and raced into the straits. The Assad was almost through when they sighted an English flotilla coming from the west. A frigate sailed ahead of the other ships. She turned towards them as they approached and for a moment Carter thought to hold his course, bluff it out, but his nerve gave and he gibed ship. Putting the xebec goose-winged onto the wind he sailed back into the middle sea. The frigate lost interest in them after three hours of stern chase and turned back to Gibraltar. Carter continued east until the rock was well out of sight and then anchored off of a deserted beach. Here they would stay until it was fully dark and then once again approach the straits.

  This time they got clear without mishap and set course for the Spanish islands once again.

  Some days later as he watched the distant mountains rise from the sea, a plan began to form in Carter’s head. Fletcher was a soft little prick; if he thought he could save the life of one of his crew, he would go to any lengths. If they could capture one of Fletcher’s officers and then make it known that only Fletcher himself could save him, the fool would come forward.

  Carter’s mind raced. The Arabs sold slaves of all races; in fact, white slaves were more profitable than black. Dressed in Arab robes they would capture one of Fletcher’s young English officers. They would then get word to Fletcher that he could be bought back, but only by Fletcher in person. Carter smiled to himself; it was the beginning of a plan.

  Three thousand four hundred miles away, Owen sat in a rundown cantina, in a small fishing village on the Brazilian coast. He had decided to come to Brazil after talking to one of the youngest crew members who had told him he had a brother who could sell the slaves for him. This man, whose name was Gustavo, promised that his family could handle everything.

  ‘My father,’ he said, ‘has been in this trade for many years. He is old now and it is my brother Lucas who runs the business.’

  Gustavo was a likeable lad, with a winning smile, who had been one of the Provider’s original crew. Owen had agreed; all he wanted was to finish with this business. He was also apprehensive of returning to the Caribbean.

  True to his word the Brazilian had quickly organized the sale of their cargo; his brother, who looked very much like him but a little older, arranged everything. Both brothers had the lightly tanned skin and flashing white smile of this good-looking race, which coupled with the dark brown eyes and black hair would make them very popular with the ladies in Owen’s opinion. Now he sat waiting for the brothers to bring the money. The Provider was anchored in the bay, her crew eager to begin a new life. He sipped a mug of the crude wine they served in this place and once again went over his options. In the end he had decided to return to England; he hoped to lose himself in the West Country. England, he thought, would be the last place Carter would ever visit.

  Looking up, he saw the two Brazilians coming through the door, accompanied by several others. A warning sounded in his head as the men came towards him, but too late. He was seized from behind and Gustavo flashed his smile as he ran a knife across Owen’s throat.

  As the longboat came alongside the Provider, Gustavo and his men carried Owen’s body on board.

  ‘We are betrayed,’ he told the men on deck. ‘We must sail at once.’

  Whilst the crew stood round in confusion a second boatload of men came over the opposite rail and, rushing at them, cut them down to a man. The two brothers looked at each other and grinned.

  ‘Tell me again about this rich cargo sitting in a swamp,’ Lucas said.

  The bodies were thrown overboard and once Lucas had examined the ship, sail was raised. In the main harbour, alongside his father’s wharf, Lucas began to prepare the ship for an ocean voyage.

  That night as they sat round the dinner table an old, well-dressed man looked at his two sons. ‘You tell me this pirate has a heavily armed brig. How will you defeat him with a few swivels?’ he asked.

  It was Gustavo who answered. ‘Once we arrive we will hide in the delta until he has sailed in his brig, then we will kill those who guard the merchantman and bring her away.’

  ‘What if he does not sail away or has already taken the ship to the north?’

  ‘Then we load another cargo of slaves and return home with a good profit.’ Lucas laughed.

  ‘If he sees you he will take you and kill you; from what you tell me this man is a demon.’

  ‘If he sees us we will tell him Owen betrayed him and ran off with the slave money and that we have brought back his ship because we want to go pirating.

  Once he trusts us we will await our opportunity to kill him.’

  Their mother, who had been sitting silently at the far end of the table, now spoke. ‘You would make this voyage not for profit but for your pleasure,’ she said.

  ‘You both have had a love of blood and mayhem since you were very young. Your father has always had to make excuses for you and hide your evil. I thank god that your younger broth
ers are not like you.’ She looked at the two young boys who sat beside her.

  ‘Then we will leave you to your children, Mother,’ Lucas said, rising from the table. ‘When we return you will see the profit we make from this voyage.’

  Later that night Lucas asked Gustavo to tell him again how Carter had cut up the young seaman. Leaning closer Gustavo said, ‘First, he cut three gashes across the right side of his face, taking his eye.’ Gustavo ran his finger across his face to demonstrate. ‘And then he cut down the man’s chest exposing each rib. Next he cut out his stomach and finally, his manhood.’

  Lucas licked his lips. ‘Was he alive all this time?’

  ‘He was.’

  ‘I should have tried this on Owen.’

  Gustavo smiled. ‘Don’t worry, brother. There will be plenty of people to play with and some of these merchantmen carry women, white women.’ They looked at each other. ‘Gold, women and blood, this will be our life.’

  When the day of departure arrived the brothers’ parents stood on the dock watching the ship slowly leave the harbour. The woman turned to her husband and said, ‘At least they take most of the scum of the town with them. The same scum they have mixed with for most of their lives.’

  The man took her arm. ‘You have your other sons,’ he told her. ‘Be happy for that.’

  The brigantine sailed out into the Atlantic and headed almost due east. Her crew numbered twenty-seven; all were between nineteen and twenty-five years old. All were known thieves, rapists and murderers. The town was happy to see them go.

  The prevailing wind and current would set them south and so Lucas set the brigantine hard on to the wind, pointing her bowsprit almost due east. The ship made hard work of the first few days, rolling heavily. Some of the crew had weak stomachs and lay below, wishing they had stayed at home. Fourteen days into the voyage, however, the swell was almost gone and the wind fell light, now her crew recovered and spent most of their time drinking and gambling.

  Lucas set the ship on a north-easterly course, headed for her destination and was rewarded when the breeze fell and then returned from the south.

  CHAPTER 14

  Carter kept close in to the coast, except when two reefs stood out from the land and sent him seaward, and made good time. The Assad was well south by the time they entered the area of light winds; as before they worked the land and sea breezes. Standing at his charts, Carter calculated they were one or, at most, two days from the delta. Two hours later the first of the small islands was sighted. Keeping close in, he skirted the first island. Now the coast was shallow and Carter reduced sail, determined to take the shortest route. From the foredeck a seaman called out that he could see a wreck between the next two islands. Walking forward with a glass, Carter saw that the ship was European by her build.

  ‘Close with her,’ he ordered. ‘Perhaps her cargo is still on board.’

  The wreck was a sad sight, her transom smashed in and her spars scattered round the surrounding shoals in pieces.

  ‘This was cannon fire,’ Carter muttered as he looked at her stern and upper works. He read the name on her stern and laughed. ‘That’s why that damned frigate didn’t believe we were the Bonne Enterprise; they knew she was already lost.

  Not just lost but blown to hell, probably by Fletcher’s sloop. Anchor the ship and put down a boat,’ he ordered.

  As they rowed round the wreck it was obvious she had been driven aground. The bottom had been ripped out of her; the main deck was mostly intact. Carter eyed the guns that still stood at their ports under the wreckage. Most of them could still be put to good use. The aft cabin was smashed, as was almost everything in that part of the ship. She must have taken several broadsides through the stern windows. There were bodies, all of them almost totally decomposed. The men gathered some swords and cutlasses and one or two other weapons. As they rowed back to the ship Carter thought on those cannon; if he only had a ship to put them on.

  The heat was becoming oppressive. Ever since Carter had been on this coast the days had been hot with occasional violent rainstorms that were short in duration. Now the humidity was much higher, making the shirts damp on their backs. As the Assad sailed into the delta they were shrouded in a sudden rainstorm that lasted much longer than was usual, reducing visibility to a few yards.

  Carter had no choice but to anchor. At last the rain stopped and the surrounding jungle echoed with the screeching of birds and the sound of hooting and barking of some unknown animals. Both vegetation and ship began to steam, creating a mist to the height of a man. As the crew raised the anchor, a pounding of drums was heard. The sound continued as they worked up the river and as darkness fell warped the ship stern first into the swamp. The slave compound was deserted and there was no sign of Nanji’s people on this side of the river. Dressed in his dark robe Carter was rowed to the opposite bank and, having given instructions for the boat to wait, he strode off into the trees.

  The drumming became steadily louder as he approached the native village. In the clearing, between huts and river, a huge fire had been lit and round it Nanji’s whole tribe was gathered. The women chanted and stamped their feet whilst the warriors moved in a circle round the fire in a shuffling, stamping dance.

  Watching from between two huts, Carter saw that the men wore only animals’ tails and a woven loincloth. All had white clay painted onto their faces and bodies. They held spears and shields, which they would jerk over their heads in unison. With the exception of one young man, who Carter recognized as Zuri, Nanji’s son; he, in addition to spear and shield, wore a leather belt through which was thrust a naval cutlass.

  Moving out from the shelter of the huts, Carter saw Nanji sitting flanked by his guards; his women sat behind him. A shout went up and six warriors leapt forward brandishing their spears at Carter who stood still and held out his hands to show he carried no weapons. The drumming and dancing continued as Carter was pushed in front of Nanji. The chief, whose English had always been a little broken, now shouted above the noise.

  ‘You ship, not village, you go.’ He waved his hand in the direction of the swamp and turned his back on Carter who was pushed through the crowd and into the jungle. Walking back to the longboat Carter reflected on what might have upset Nanji and on how this could change his plans.

  Once back on the north bank he stood looking at the compound, trying to decide what to do next. Carter was startled when Zuri materialized out of the darkness beside him. The boy was naked except for his belt and cutlass and had obviously swum the river. He was even more surprised when Zuri spoke to him in English.

  ‘Frenchman make war my village,’ he said. ‘Big trouble fault white man.’

  ‘The French were here?’ Carter asked.

  ‘No, but when,’ Zuri stated, from which Carter gathered that Nanji expected to be attacked and that the drumming and dancing were a preparation for war.

  ‘Why are the French going to attack you?’ Carter demanded.

  ‘Yes,’ said Zuri with conviction.

  This was getting nowhere. ‘I must talk to your father,’ Carter told the boy. ‘Do you understand? Tell Nanji I must talk with him.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Zuri again and turning he dived into the river. Carter was not at all sure that the boy had understood; he was sure that he must get his ship out of the swamp, however. If the French were coming he should be somewhere else. They worked all that night and at first light the Assad was anchored in the river mouth with her guns loaded and run out.

  Carter waited until noon. He saw no sign of any natives and did not think it a good idea to go back to the village. Whatever the problem was, Nanji was blaming white people. Carter made up his mind they would make sail and find a new base.

  The xebec moved slowly on the slightest of breeze and worked her way clear of the delta. They would visit again the landlocked bay with the Portuguese trading post. That should be a safe base until Carter decided what to do next.

  As the Assad was set to the north the looko
ut saw a ship on the horizon to the southwest. Carter immediately changed course to intercept. Through the glass he could see that she was a brigantine and as they closed the range he recognized the Provider. Owen had come back.

  He laughed to himself. ‘What did that stupid Indian know? Bring us alongside,’ he ordered, ‘and wave; Owen will not know this ship. Show him we are friendly.’ As they approached, Carter recognized nobody on board the other ship. ‘Prepare the guns,’ he called. ‘We may have to board her.’

  One of his crew called out, ‘That’s Gustavo, one of her original crew.’ He stood on the rail and shouted, ‘Gustavo, remember me? It’s Paulo.’

  Pointing aft he continued, ‘That’s Captain Carter, heave to.’

  There was a hasty discussion amongst the men standing round the brigantine’s helm and then Gustavo waved and called, ‘Hey Paulo.’ The Provider rounded up and hove to.

  ‘Where is Owen?’ were Carter’s first words as he came over the rail.

  ‘Gone,’ Gustavo told him. ‘They all went away; we brought the ship back to you.’

  Carter took him by the throat. ‘What happened to the slave money?’ he demanded.

  ‘I know nothing of any money,’ the boy choked.

  Carter looked round the deck. He was surrounded by fit-looking, armed men, all of whom were looking at him with hard expressions. He let the boy go. ‘So why did you come back?’

  ‘To join you. This is my brother Lucas.’ He put his hand on the shoulder of a slightly older boy next to him. ‘We would pirate with you.’

  Carter’s stomach twisted. He was being lied to, but whilst he was standing amongst twenty or more armed, hostile men it was not the time to argue. He would pursue the question of the money at a later date. For now he had his ship back and a much-needed extra crew.

  ‘You will follow my ship,’ he ordered. ‘We will find you some guns.’

  The wreck site was not far away and both ships were anchored by early evening. Work was started immediately. Carter would waste no time whilst the weather stayed calm.