Captured in the Caribbean

by Sara Whitford

  “To get some air,” said Canady, looking back towards the deck. “It’s a madhouse up there.”

  At that, he scurried down the rest of the ramp and was soon out of sight. Meanwhile, Adam had boarded the vessel, and he was soon knocking on the door to the captain’s quarters.

  “What is it?” a voice inside demanded.

  “It’s Fletcher, Captain. I’ve come to check on Jones and Smith.”

  The door was quickly opened in his face. Martin was leaning against the back wall of the cabin.

  “Come on in, come on in,” said Captain Phillips, who was standing over Jones, who was lying on the table in the captain’s quarters, having a huge gash across his belly cleaned up.

  “What happened here?” asked Adam.

  “Do you even have to ask?” Martin chuckled. “It’s that crazy family of yours.”

  Jones winced as the captain began stitching up the deepest part of the gash.

  Adam waited until the captain finished and then asked Jones, “How did this happen? Were you out in town or something?”

  Jones shook his head and put on a clean shirt, but he looked like he was too sore to talk.

  Martin answered instead. “Uh-uh. We were all sleepin down below because of the rain. When me and Charlie and Jones got back from the tavern, Charlie passed out in Jones’s berth—you know he ain’t much of a drinker and he can’t hold his liquor. Anyway, Jones, he saw you weren’t in your berth, so he went to sleep there.”

  “Wait,” said Adam. “Why did Jones get in my berth? Why didn’t he just sleep in Charlie’s?”

  “Oh,” said Martin, “because Charlie threw up in his right before he passed out in Jones’s berth.”

  Adam nodded. “I see. Go on.”

  “I was sleepin in my own berth, of course,” said Martin.

  “So what happened then? You say this was my family?”

  “Well, they weren’t your family members—at least not that I know of—but this happened because of all that crazy mess with your daddy and your uncle.”

  “What in the world, Jones?!” said Adam. “Did they just pounce on you or something? Did they think you were me?”

  “I reckon they assumed I was, mate,” said Jones, “because your sea chest was right there, and it said ‘A. Fletcher.’”

  Adam tipped his head to the side, feeling stupid for asking the question. That was how the Velasquez family servants had found him earlier that same night.

  “Yeah,” said Martin, “and anyway it was dark, and you and Jones look right similar when you get down to it.”

  “Anyhow,” said Jones, “I was just sleepin, you know? Real good, actually—and next thing I know, one of them scoundrels had his hand over my mouth and the other one was about to stab me with a dagger. I moved quick, though, and got out from under him just in time. Ended up with this gash instead.”

  “Good Lord! Then what happened? I guess both of you saw ’em?”

  Jones nodded. “Unfortunately.”

  Martin said, “I did. They were a couple of those men from Eduardo’s compound. I remember seein them there. One of ’em was that Hector fella.”

  “Hector?” Adam exclaimed. “Eduardo must’ve sent ’em! He should’ve been able to tell that Jones wasn’t me, though!”

  “Well, like I told you,” said Martin, “you and Jones are both real similar in height and hair color and whatnot, so in the dark down here, and with that sea chest sayin ‘A. Fletcher,’ I’m sure he just thought it was you.”

  Adam turned his head away in frustration. “That man is relentless!” He thought for a moment, then said, “What happened to the men who attacked you?”

  Martin’s eyes grew big. “What do you reckon happened? They sure won’t be pullin any more stunts like that. As soon as all the fellas down below realized what was happenin, we all came down on those two boys like dogs on a fox.”

  “Were they arrested?”

  Martin looked at Adam as though he had lost his mind. “Arrested? I reckon they’re probably gettin the grand tour of Hell right about now.”

  “They’re dead?”

  Martin nodded. “Of course they’re dead. What do you think? You’ve got two men breakin onto this ship in the middle of the night, and here they were, tryin to kill one of the crew. Those boys weren’t about to walk out of here alive. And let’s face it: it ain’t like we could’ve just turned them over to the sheriff.”

  “Where are they now?” asked Adam.

  “Don’t ask,” said Jones. “You really don’t wanna know, mate.”

  Adam had no idea what that meant, and he wasn’t going to press any further. He understood their situation and knew they did whatever was necessary to protect everybody on board.

  “I wonder if Eduardo knows about it yet . . . I wonder if it will make him back off.” Adam was stunned that all this had happened in just the few hours he was away. He considered what might have been the case if he had been in the berth instead of Jones when those men came. He’d like to think he’d have been able to thwart their attack, like Jones did, but as tired as Adam was, he didn’t know that his responses would have been as quick.

  Martin leveled his gaze at him and said, “Men like that are dispensable to men like Eduardo. Even though those two are dead, he’s got a whole army ready to fall right in behind him as soon as he says the word. This ain’t gonna stop, boy, and you know it.”

  “I know.” Adam took a deep breath, sighed, and then kicked the ground. “Do you know my father just gave me his will tonight? He wanted me to make sure I had it. Said it will put an end to all of this mess with Eduardo.”

  “He gave you his will?” Martin wrinkled his brow. “Is he about to die or somethin? What’s it say?”

  Adam shrugged. “How should I know? It’s in Spanish, for goodness’ sake! But he said Drake could tell me and help me find Eduardo so I can get it to him.”

  “What?” Martin was aghast. “He wants to send you back into the belly of the beast?”

  “He didn’t mean for me to have to go back to the compound. I think he meant for me to take this to Eduardo somewhere here in town. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  ADAM AND MARTIN STOOD IN Drake’s parlor as he sat in his favorite chair and read out loud from his friend’s will.

  “I, Santiago Rogelio Velasquez de Leon . . . blah, blah, blah . . . Let’s see here . . .” Drake scanned through the document quickly while Adam and Martin hovered over his shoulder.

  “Well, what does it say?” asked Adam. “I know it doesn’t say ‘blah, blah, blah.’”

  Drake waved his hand and motioned at the first two paragraphs of the document and said, “The beginning is just the long formal introduction where he says who he is and that he commits his body back to the earth and prays that his soul will go to God, who created him, and so forth . . . Ah . . . let’s see . . .”

  He continued to scan down the page until he came to something that caused him to wrinkle his brow in surprise. “Oh, good heavens,” Drake mumbled under his breath as he continued reading.

  Adam and Martin both looked at each other.

  Adam said to Drake, “What? What is it?”

  “I think . . .” Drake ran his finger along the three lines of text again and again, as if he wanted to make sure he was understanding it correctly. “I think it says, ‘To my wife, Mary Fletcher of the Town of Beaufort, in the County of Carteret, in the Province of North Carolina, I give all of the contents of the small chest that I keep locked in the bureau on my sloop, La Dama del Caribe, which consists of several mementos that would be of personal value to her. To the child that was born to me by my wife, the aforementioned Mary Fletcher, provided the child is living at the execution of this document, I give my sloop, La Dama del Caribe. If that child is not still living at the execution of this document, the sloop should be offered to Mary Fletcher, or if she prefers, it should be sold, and she should be given the proceeds of that sale.�
��”

  Adam gasped, but he didn’t know what to say.

  “Wait, there’s more here,” said Drake. “And this is where it gets really interesting!”

  Adam raised his eyebrows and exchanged a look of surprise with Martin. “Well, go ahead. Keep reading.”

  Drake continued: “Listen to this: ‘It has come to my attention that my uncle, Eduardo Velasquez de Castillo, has called into question my legitimacy and has said that I am not the son of his brother, Juan Diego Velasquez de Castillo. As much as it grieves me to say so, I have determined by investigations of my own that my uncle’s charge is likely to be correct. While I am unable to disclose my exact sources, I can say that I learned this information through interviews with a few individuals whose identities I swore to keep secret. I also have reason to believe that Juan Diego Velasquez de Castillo, the man I have always known as my father, also knew the truth about my paternity . . .’” Drake continued reading and said, “He just goes on here to explain that because of the aforementioned information, he relinquishes his rights to any portion of the Velasquez estate to which he is entitled by the will of his father, and that he would hand it over directly for the benefit of the sons of his Uncle Eduardo, except that it is presently in the possession of his mother, Isabel, to be held during her widowhood for the benefit of Santiago.”

  The three men looked at each other, stunned.

  “Did that really just say he gives up the entire Velasquez estate?” Martin asked.

  “That must be what he meant about this would fix everything,” Adam mused. “But my father isn’t dead yet, and neither is my grandmother.”

  Drake shook his head. “You’re right. I’m not so certain this is going to soothe the beast. Eduardo of all people would know that as long as Santiago lives, he can potentially change the will. Also, Santiago has not yet received the full balance of the estate, because Isabel is still living. He cannot give away something that does not yet belong to him.”

  “Maybe he just thought that if Eduardo knew his intentions—and this was written before I ever even arrived in Havana—he would back off,” Adam suggested.

  “But then why wouldn’t he have just shown it to ol’ Eddie a long time ago and then gone back to Beaufort to be with you and your mama?” asked Martin.

  “Think. Just think about it,” Adam said. “He didn’t want to let his uncle know that me and my mother survived that fire if he didn’t have to, so I reckon he just drew up the will and held on to it in case he did die before his mother. I guess he wanted to make sure he could leave something for me and my mother—and that whole business about giving me La Dama del Caribe, I don’t even know what to make of that, because I sure don’t know how to captain my own ship. Then of course he wanted to give the Velasquez inheritance to his uncle’s children—not his uncle. That was all Eduardo ever cared about, anyway.”

  “He’s a clever chap, Santiago,” said Drake. “Let me look to see when this thing is dated . . .” He studied the document again and then said, “June 1748.”

  “That was just a few months after I was born,” said Adam. “I can’t believe he’s had this drawn up that whole time.”

  “Well, just be happy he has,” said Martin.

  ADAM, MARTIN, AND DRAKE STOOD in front of the steps to the enormous double doors of the residence of the high sheriff, which was where Eduardo lived with his family. They were careful and brought a few of their shipmates from the Gypsy in case the tense meeting came to violence.

  “Alright, fellas,” Adam said to Martin and Drake. “This is it.”

  He went up the steps and pounded the heavy knocker against the door three times before a man answered it.

  “Buenos dias,” said the man.

  “I need to see Eduardo.”

  The man looked at Adam with a quizzical expression and said, “Un momento, por favor.” Then he disappeared behind the door and into the house.

  When the door opened again, Eduardo was standing there.

  “What do you want?” he asked Adam, his tone abrupt.

  Adam held up the document in his hand. “I think I have something you might want to see.”

  Eduardo tried to snatch the document out of his hand, but Adam quickly pulled it down and stuck it in his pocket.

  “I want you to look over there,” said Adam, pointing to Martin and Drake, “and over there.” He pointed to the group of men who were gathered behind him on the cobblestone street.

  Martin and Drake both waved at Eduardo. The others weren’t as friendly and instead just scowled at him.

  “What is the meaning of all of this?” said Eduardo. “Do you think you can intimidate me in my own home?”

  “That isn’t the point of any of this,” said Adam. “This is just to show you some of the men who are here today, who are going to make sure that I leave here better off than my friend Jones over there fared after your men tried to stab him last night, and better off than my father is back at his house.”

  “What do you want?” Eduardo demanded. “I do not have time for your childish games.”

  “How about let’s go on inside and talk? I don’t reckon we need to air all of this business out here on the streets.”

  Eduardo narrowed his eyes at Adam and then opened his door and motioned for him to come inside. Adam turned back and waved for Drake and Martin to come as well.

  Eduardo tried to stop them from entering by closing the door, but Adam put his foot in the way and forced it back open. “Uh-uh,” he said. “They’re coming too.”

  Martin and Drake pushed their way in, and there the four of them were—Adam, Eduardo, Martin, and Drake—all standing in the foyer of Eduardo’s huge house.

  “Aren’t you going to invite us in to sit, Uncle?” said Adam.

  Eduardo was fuming but obviously in no position to protest. He led the three men into his office and motioned for them to sit. Adam and Drake sat in the two chairs in front of the desk. Martin pulled a third chair over from against the wall and sat with them. Eduardo sat in his own chair behind the desk.

  “Fine,” said Eduardo. “We are all here. We are all sitting. Now what do you want?”

  Adam took the folded-up piece of paper out of his pocket and dropped it on Eduardo’s desk. “Here ya go.”

  “¿Que es esto?” he asked.

  “You’ll see,” said Drake.

  Eduardo unfolded the paper and smoothed it out on his desk and began reading. As soon as he realized it was a will, in a mocking tone he asked, “Is my poor nephew dead already?”

  “Not yet.” Adam’s eyes twitched. He involuntarily made fists, but he squeezed his own thumbs to keep his hands busy rather than diving across the desk and wringing the man’s neck, which was what he really wanted to do. “Now you just keep reading.”

  As Eduardo continued to read, a small smile crept across his face. He said, “This is very nice, but it matters little, since Santiago is still alive.”

  Adam forcefully waved at the paper. “Look at the date on the document. This was written eighteen years ago. It looks to me like he decided a long time ago that you were too crazy to reason with, so he was already prepared to give you what you want. Your heirs will have the Velasquez estate. Do you honestly think he’s going to rewrite this in the condition he’s in?”

  Eduardo looked up and locked eyes with Adam. “I am not sure that I want to take a chance on that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” said Adam.

  “I do believe that was a threat, lad,” said Drake.

  Eduardo said nothing but only closed and opened his eyes slowly and sighed the way someone might do if they were especially bored.

  “You aren’t going to lay a finger on him,” said Adam. He snatched the document up from the desk and folded it back up and put it in his pocket. “I’m going to make sure of that.”

  “And tell me, chico, what will you do? You will not always be here in Havana, will you?”

 
“You best think that through, Ed,” said Drake. “As it stands right now, your sons will inherit the Velasquez estate when Santiago dies, whether it’s days from now or decades. Right now, with this document you’re still getting what you want. You start throwing out a bunch of threats—just you remember we can destroy that document as easily as it was for us to bring it to you. Without a will, everything that Santiago stands to inherit will pass directly to Adam and his mother.”

  Eduardo intentionally ignored Drake. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on Adam. “Tell me, chico, how are you still alive? I thought for sure you would no longer be a problem for me.”

  “I never have been a problem for you, Eduardo. Only in your own imagination have I ever been a problem for you. When I came to Havana, the only thing I wanted to do was learn something about my father, but little did I know I was walking right into a trap. You’re an absolute lunatic! You had me kidnapped. Your men nearly killed me. They ended up shooting my father, and now he’s fighting for his life. Then you almost killed a friend because those two idiots who work for you didn’t bother to double-check who they were going to stab. And now those men are dead because you sent them to do your dirty work.”

  Eduardo pressed his palms into his desk as he leaned across it to face Adam. “Listen to me, chico. Listen very well. I will do whatever it takes to make sure you do not rob my sons of what is rightfully theirs.”

  “Are you even listening to me? I never wanted anything here. I never even knew there was anything to want! The way I see it, you’ve only been able to succeed at three things these last few days: One, you’ve made yourself look like a complete ass. Two, you’ve sent two of your own men to their death. And three, you and your men may have killed the son of your own brother.”

  Eduardo stood from his desk and slammed his hands down on the top of it. “That is just it! Do you not understand! Your father is a bastard! My brother was not his father. My brother never even slept with his wife, Isabel. Your father is the child of Isabel and the English lover of her youth. I know it because I was there in the house when her visitor came and took her to bed, the whore!”