Spring Showers Box-set

by Avell Kro

“My name’s Captain Smith,” the man said holding out his thick hand towards Mikel. “The boys call

  me Smitty. Everyone else calls me Captain.”

  Mikel shook his hand and wondered if Captain Smith assumed Mikel was the leader of their duo.

  “Mikel Davis and this is Harry True.”

  The captain released Mikel’s hand and shook Harry’s as well.

  “Are we to assume that we’re not prisoners aboard this vessel?” Harry asked.

  “Prisoners? Bah! Where would ye escape to?” the captain waved his hand at the never-ending

  waters that surrounded them. “You’re welcome ta jump overboard if ye please, but I’d rather put

  ye ta work.”

  Mikel and Harry exchanged glances. The captain’s words made perfect sense. There was no

  escaping the ship. Even if they managed to steal one of the smaller boats attached to the side, land

  was nowhere in sight.

  “Thank you, Captain Smith,” Mikel said with resignation. “Is it too much to ask for a meal before

  we begin our task?”

  “Of course not, matey! A man works harder when he has a full stomach.”

  The captain grinned and called for one of his crew to lead the duo back below deck to the kitchen,

  where they tried to enjoy dried pork and vegetables.

  Chapter 4

  Mikel

  Mikel and Harry had the task of cleaning the ship, which included the privies, the kitchen and the

  decks. Each sailor was responsible for his own living space, and Mikel was grateful they didn’t have

  to do the barracks as well. The sailors’quarters were offensive, and it didn’t help that there was no

  way to bath. Any rain water collected was saved for drinking, cooking and cleaning the ship.

  That evening the crew made it clear they did not share their captain’s view regarding the

  prisoners’ status.

  “You can sleep on the floor in the back,” said a large man with dark hair and a long, receding

  hairline. “We don’t abide keeping the company of traitors, but the captain won’t tolerate

  disobedience.”

  The man was as tall as Harry, but not quite as wide. He handed Mikel and Harry each a rough, wool

  blanket and pointed towards the end of the cabin.

  “Thanks for your gracious hospitality,” Harry growled, snatching his blanket.

  After the first few days of sleeping on the floor, Mikel asked if he and Harry could move into the

  small storage room they had first woken up in.

  “If you insist, boy,” the captain said, then leaned in close to Mikel. “The crew isn’t fond of being

  forced ta take you two with us. So maybe it’s best if ya did.”

  “We hadn’t noticed,” Mikel replied sarcastically.

  They moved the empty barrels to another storeroom and strung two hammocks in their place.The

  rest of their meager belongings fit in a single foot locker supplied by the captain.

  He informed them that they would be sailing south along the eastern coast of Africa until they

  reached the tip. Then they would turn north into the Atlantic Ocean and on to their destination, the

  northeastern tip of South America.

  “Don’t you think it’s weird that the captain is the only one who will speak to us?” Harry asked one

  night as they got ready for bed.

  “Yes, I also wonder if the crew knowswhat happened,” Mikel replied as he kicked off his boots and

  placed them in the foot locker under his hammock. “These men seem to come from everywhere.

  I’ve seen Irish, French, German, Spanish, African and others whose heritage I cannot place. It

  makes me wonder where their loyalty lies. Is it with the Dutch or the East India Trading

  Company?”

  “I’m not sure,” Harry replied, stowing his own locker and climbing into the top hammock. “I guess we’ll find out whether or not we’re really prisoners at the first landfall. I assume we will need to

  stop for supplies soon. It’sbeen at least a week since we left the island.”

  “True enough,” Mikel laid back on his own hammock as it swung with the movement of the ship.

  His thoughts wandered to his family. What would happen to them if the East India Trading

  Company in that region failed? Could they make arrangements with another group? Mikel’s father

  was a hard worker, but he was not the negotiator. He relied on his son to make the right

  connections and ensure the contracts were legal, binding agreements. Would the Trading Company

  continue to honor their agreement without Mikel there to oversee them?

  He let out a deep sigh and tried to sleep, but it evaded him.

  They awoke the next morning to muffled shouts from the main deck. Mikel dressed quickly with

  the clothing provided for them. It was the same as most of the other sailors; loose linen pants and

  thin white shirts. Mikel longed for his formal English trousers and a shirt that buttoned at the

  neck. While the sailor’s uniforms where comfortable and functional, they just weren’t English.

  “What are they yelling about?” Harry grumbled as he pul ed on his own boots.

  “I think we’re approaching land,” Mikel replied, trying to contain his enthusiasm.

  “Oh, wel let’s hurry up then!” His grogginess seemed to evaporate with the thought of getting off

  the boat.

  Harry pushed Mikel out the door and they rushed down the hall to the stairs leading to the main

  deck.

  The sailors were busy pulling down one of the largest sails, trying to slow the massive ship as it

  came into port. The Captain bellowed orders from the wheel, steering the vessel around smaller

  boats. The two Englishmen made their way to the railing and looked out to the busy port in front of

  them. Dozens of dark-skinned men lined the dock, waiting to catch the ropes that would tie the

  ship to the pier. Mikel was always amazed at the engineering that had to take place to keep the

  docks from being pulled from their anchors against the weight of such large vessels.

  “Do you know where we are?” Harry asked.

  “Nope.”

  “As long as I can have a bath and hot meal, I guess I don’t rightly care,” Harry said with a grin, then

  lowered his voice. “We still planning to disappear from whatever inn they put us in?”

  Before Mikel could respond,a voice from behind them startled them both.

  “You boys won’t be leaving the ship.”

  “What do you mean?” Mikel asked as he turned around, trying to keep the hostility from his voice.

  “Captain’s orders.” The sailor shrugged as if it was no consequence to him.

  “Maybe we’ll just have a chat with the captain,” Harry replied, not concealing his anger.

  Several more sailors formed a half circle around the Englishmen, none of them looking friendly.

  “The Captain said you wouldn’t be locked in the storeroom as long as you cooperated.”

  The half circle grew smaller as the men drew closer.

  “But we’d like it if you didn’t cooperate. We got no use for traitors.”

  “How dare you!” Harry bellowed and lunged at the sailor who’d been doing all the talking.

  His fist connected with the sailor’s nose, a fountain of blood spilling between his fingers. The other

  sailors leapt into the fray.

  Mikel was no fighter, but he would not let his friend go down alone. He brought back his booted

  foot and kicked the nearest sailor in the ribs. The mandoubled over with a grunt then turned

  towards Mikel, brandishing a short knife. Mikel recognized it as one of the small blades used to cut

  the ropes for th
e sails. He held the knife forward in a tight grasp and then lunged towards Mikel’s

  stomach. The Englishman jumped back, barely avoiding the blade and grabbed the back of the

  sailor’s shirt. Using the man’s momentum, he flung him towards the ground. The sailor rolled to his

  feet and rushed Mikel again. He wasn’t quick enough to dodge the blade this time and felt the sharp

  metal cut into his bicep.

  The sailor grinned. “Care to keep dancing, traitor?”

  “I am no traitor,” Mikel hissed and charged at his attacker.

  He grabbed the man’s forearm as it plummeted towards his neck and hooked his foot behind the

  sailor’s knee. Using the man’s own weight, he forced him backwards and fell with him to the deck.

  The sailor’s shout was muffled by their impact with the hard, wooden boards. The knife fell from

  his hand and skidded to a stop against the nearest mast.

  “Never question my loyalty to my country,” Mikel said between clinched teeth and punched the

  man in the mouth.

  He pul ed himself to his feet and looked towards the rest of the group. The Captain stood in front of

  his men with his hands on his hips. His normally jovial expression was replaced with simmering

  anger.

  “Get your gear and get off this ship!” he bellowed. “I gave ye simple orders, but could ye follow

  them? No! None of ye come back before sundown tomorrow.”

  The crew slowly gathered themselves and headed below deck to collect their things, including the

  man that Mikel had fought.

  The Captain’s gaze turned to Mikel and Harry. “You are not allowed to leave the ship.”

  Mikel started to argue, but the Captain’s glare silenced him.

  Chapter 5

  Mikel

  “I guess that answers our question,” Harry said quietly as they watched the captain and most of

  the crew move down the gangplank and onto the dock.

  “I guess so.”

  “Let’s get your arm cleaned up.” Harry pointed to the blood dripping down Mikel’s arm, staining

  the white linen of his shirt.

  “You don’t look much better,” Mikel replied.

  Harry’s left eye was swollen and his lower lip was still dripping blood down his chin.

  “Aye, but I was fighting more than one.” He grinned then grimaced as his lip split even farther.

  “I really would’ve liked a bath and a real shave,” Mikel said solemnly.

  “And a good meal,” Harry added, pushing his friend towards the stairs. “And a chance to escape.”

  “Especially that,” Mikel agreed.

  The captain and a handful of crew members returned early that evening. Mikel and Harry were in

  the mess hal playing cards when the captain joined them.

  “I’l need ye to help the boys unload our current cargo and reload some more to take to our next

  stop.”

  Mikel didn’t look up when the captain dropped into a chair across from him, but he felt the

  captain’s gaze boring into him.

  “Of course,” Mikel replied without meeting the captain’s steely eyes. “Not that we really have a

  choice, do we?” Mikel slapped a card on the table. “Your play, friend.”

  Harry studied his cards intently.

  “I got news from the East India Trading Company while I was ashore.”

  The comment caught Mikel’s attention, but he refused to look at the captain. The man had never

  threatened them nor treated them badly, but they were clearly still prisoners.

  “Dammit you fool! Look at me when I’m tryin’ to tell ya something.” The captain’s demeanor finally

  broke, and he jumped to his feet.

  “Unless your letting us go because we are not traitors to the crown, there is nothing I care to hear from you.”

  “There’s an investigation into the actions of the Dutch at Ambon Island. They executed over a

  dozen Englishman and tortured many more. They’re callin’ it the Amboyna Massacre.”

  Mikel finally looked at the captain and laid his cards down on the table. He noticed Harry had done

  the same.

  The captain continued as he took his seat. “They told us you betrayed the Trading Company, both

  the English and the Dutch. I agreed to take ya to South America with the rest of the cargo I’m paid

  to carry.” His brow furrowed, making his deep-set eyes sink even further into his face. “Will ye tell

  me what happened to ya?”

  Mikel looked at Harry with disbelief. Would the captain let us go? Sure, we’re in Africa, but it was

  easier to travel to Europe from here than all the way from South America.

  Mikel told his story, then Harry told his as well. Harry’s story almost mirrored his own.

  The captain leaned back in his chair and rubbed his bald head.

  “I’m not sure what ta make of this,” he said leaning forward again and rubbing his bald head. “I

  can’t just let ye go. You’re on me list of cargo, which will be checked thoroughly when we arrive.

  Give me a day or so to think. I’ll tell the boys that you’re not what we were led to believe.” He stood

  and headed to the doorbut turned back just before leaving. “I’ll have a bathtub and hot water

  brought on board for ye. Can’t have yastinkin up me ship.” He left with a forced grin.

  They stayed anchored for three days, off-loading goods one day and loading new crates the next.

  The captain kept his word and talked to his crew. The sailors’attitudes didn’t change much, but

  some of their hostility was gone. He also senta half dozen dark-skinned men hauling a large metal

  tub and several barrels of steaming water onto the ship. Harry and Mikel bathed, then washed all

  their clothes, secreting some of the soaps in their footlocker before the same men carried the tub

  away.

  When they finally pulled anchor and were back out to sea, the captain approached Mikel again. He

  was in the middle of helping the cook clean up from breakfast when he noticed the captain

  watching from one of the empty tables.

  “What can I do for you, Captain?” Mikel asked, dropping his cleaning cloth into a bucket of water.

  “I made me decision about you and your friend.”

  “And?”

  “I cannot let ye leave the ship until we reach port in South America.”

  Mikel’s heart sank. His hopes of returning home looked slimmer by the day.

  “But, once ye leave the ship, me and me boys won’t be helping the soldiers if ye decide ta make a

  run for it.” He rose from the chair and stretched his hand towards Mikel, who looked down to see a

  scrap of paper. “It’s the name and address of one of me less honorable clients in the town where we’ll be docking. He may or may not be willing ta help ye, if ye can escape the soldiers.”

  Mikel took the slip of paper and looked up at the man before him.

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “I think ye been done wrong, but I can’t risk me own crew on a hunch.”

  “I understand,” Mikel said. “It’s not like you’ve treated us badly thus far.”

  “Bah! Now back to work with ya!”

  Chapter 6

  Raphael

  Eastern Brazil-1623

  Raphael slowly edged out onto the thick branch where he perched. The wide, dark foliage was

  excel ent coverage for his hiding place, but it also interfered with his line of sight. The limb bowed

  slightly with his weight, and he pushed aside a large, broad leaf. He looked down into the enemy

  camp.

  His breath caught in his throat as he gazed across the scarred earth before him. Hundreds of t
ree

  stumps littered the area and dozens of men were in the process of cutting more. Soldiers hovered

  over groups of natives with long whips, yelling at them to work faster. The tribesmen nearest his

  hiding spot stripped the freshly cut trees of their larger limbs and dense foliage. Another group

  hauled the bare trees to the perimeter of the field to be stacked and mortared into a fast-growing

  wall.

  The natives’ dark skin bore strips of white, scars from the whips of their masters. Raphael

  struggled to suppress his anger. His own superiors used tribal slavery as wel and didn’t treat their

  slaves any better. But it didn’t keep him from cringing when the nearest Dutch soldier flipped the

  tails of his whip at a man who dropped his end of one of the large trees. The slave cried out in pain,

  glared at the soldier, and regained his grip on the green wood which was still bleeding its own sap.

  Two walls of the fort were nearly complete, the wood stacked three rows deep and almost as tall as

  two men. The frames of two towers stood as skeletons on each corner. The clearing was big

  enough to build a fort capable of housing several thousand soldiers and the support needed to

  outfit them.

  The captain will need to hear of this, Raphael thought as he shimmied back towards the trunk of

  the tree, careful not to dislodge any loose leaves or branches. He stopped at the crook in the tree

  where the large branch met the wide trunk and flattened himself against it. Voices drifted up to

  him from the ground below. He recognized the Dutch language but couldn’t understand what they

  were saying. He peeked around the side of the tree and looked down where he’d left his horse tied

  several trees over.

  Two soldiers stood by the tree, one with curly blond hair and the other still wearing his helm.

  Curly had already untied Raphael’s horse and gestured upwards into one of the trees. The other

  soldier’s helm shook in denial and Curly mocked him. Raphael grinned at the interaction. The

  helmed soldier didn’t want to climb the tree to look for him. It’s a good thing I didn’t tie my horse to

  the tree I climbed, or they would’ve seen me already.

  The two men continued to argue for several more minutes, then Curly stuffed his helm on his head, jumped on Raphael’s horse and left his companion at the bottom of the tree. Raphael assumed