He gave Hannibal a shove, chewing up his words as he spoke, “Alright then. What have we here? A ruddy fool, what doesn’t look where he’s going!?” The man took a step toward Hannibal, poking him in the chest for emphasis as he continued, “I’ve a right mind to teach you a lesson, blacky. Haven’t I.”
The man’s companions, who were just as seedy looking as he was, spread out to flank Hannibal on either side. There were five of them in total. Hannibal smiled and said, “How about a bath first?”
They looked at each other, their faces turning red with anger.
Hannibal ducked under a sloppily thrown right hand. As he stood back up, he kicked the leader in the groin as hard as he could.
The man crumpled to the floor like an empty burlap sack.
Hannibal took two, full steps back, to give himself some space to maneuver. When he did, he pulled both of his wheel-lock pistols from his sash, cocking them in the process. He aimed one at the leader’s head. The man was on his knees, clutching at his groin. He aimed the other at the groin of the nearest man to his left.
The men all froze in place,rusty sabers half-drawn. Hannibal had seen only one flintlock pistol. It was still tucked behind the belt at the leader’s waist. The rabble stood there, slack-jawed, with wide eyes trying to look at their leader and Hannibal at the same time. No one made a sound. The sound of a blunderbuss being cocked seemed incredibly loud in the silence. Hannibal saw Ebrima, standing behind the bar, with the short barrel of the weapon aimed at the head of the man nearest to him.
Hannibal paused to let them figure out that they were in an untenable situation.
The men looked anxiously at one another.
Hannibal smiled calmly, giving each of them a good, hard look.
They were bilge rats. They were not hardened soldiers or pirates. They were the kind of men who liked to fight when they had the numbers on their side and thought they faced someone unwilling to fight back. It was likely that they saw the young Berber couple on the street and decided they were easy pickings.
Looking down at the leader, Hannibal flashed him his most wicked grin. He had a few different one-liners. He decided against using his usual I’m crazy enough to do it line. A little gleam in the eye always added just the right touch. Once he had their undivided attention, he said, “I haven’t shot anyone in awhile. Maybe it’s time. If for no other reason than to clean out my guns. What do you think?”
The leader looked around at his fellows with a quick glance, saw Ebrima with his blunderbuss, and said, “Now, we was just having some fun, weren’t we? No need to loose them pistols, cap’n. No need.” With one hand still on his groin, he slowly waved the other in surrender.
Hannibal let his voice go cold. “You have about as long as it takes Nyima to bring me another cup of coffee to be out of this tavern and on your way. Or we start shooting.”
The leader looked up at Hannibal with raised eyebrows. Hannibal motioned toward the door with the pistol he was aiming at the man’s head. Without a moment’s hesitation, they turned and ran for the door, climbing over each other to get out, like crabs in a bucket. They left their leader to bring up the rear, hobbling for the door while clutching at his crotch. Hannibal watched them go before uncocking his pistols and sliding them back behind his sash. Sparing one more look toward the door, he walked slowly back to his table. Dropping his hat, where he sat it before, he lowered himself back into his seat. Nyima was there, even as he was sitting, with another cup of coffee and an even brighter smile. He smiled right back at her. He barely had time to take a sip before the young couple approached his table. They both bowed their heads, but only the young man spoke.
“My thanks, good sir. We are in your debt. We made the mistake of taking passage on their ship. They harassed my sister, Massinissa, for much of the trip. We thought we were finally through with them when we made port, but they must have followed us from the docks.”
The young woman’s voice sounded like music. It was light, soft, and lilting, when she said, “Thank you, good sir. Thank you.”
Hannibal smiled at them both and said, “No thanks is needed. I have seen their kind often enough. It was my pleasure to give them a taste of their own medicine. Please, join me.” He stood and motioned to the other chairs at his table. They bowed again, the woman’s headdress making a soft jingling sound as she moved. It was only after they sat that she raised her head to look at him. He inclined his head and smiled. She returned his smile, revealing beautifully white teeth.
Nyima returned to ask after the two Berbers. There was a lot of bowing heads as they asked for tea. Hannibal sipped at his coffee while they talked with Nyima. When they finished he cleared his throat and said, “I am Captain Hannibal Black.” The two of them nodded. The young man placed his hand over his heart and said, “As I mentioned, this is my sister Massinissa. I am Anaruz. We are blessed to make your acquaintance.” Hannibal nodded. “No, the pleasure is mine. May I ask why you took passage?”
The young man’s face changed. The smile slowly slipped away. It was replaced by a grim frown. “Yes, Captain. We are from Sali, in southern Morocco. The Barbary pirates began raiding farther and farther south. We thought we were safe from their slaving raids. They had never raided so far down the coast. But two days ago they attacked Sali. Our village was devastated. Many were carried off to the pirates’ ship. It is our understanding that they will be taken to the Canary Islands to be sold into slavery.”
The young woman’s head dropped again. Anaruz stared off toward the wall, his expression blank. Hannibal spoke softly. “So, why did you come south?”
Massinissa raised her head. She had a defiant look in her eyes. “We came looking to find men who would help us retrieve our family. We drove what was left of our village’s cattle to the market at the port and sold them. We have money. All we need are sailors willing to take the job.”
Hannibal sat back in his chair. He had never heard of the Barbary pirates raiding so far south either. But it did not surprise him. At some point pirates discovered the slave trade and how lucrative it could be. Some of them even worked for the countries involved. Every European power was invested. He drank from his cup as he did the calculations. It was likely that their fellow villagers were already on the Canary Islands. But they might not have been put on ships bound for their final destination just yet.
Hannibal looked back across the table at the young woman. “Did you happen to hear the name of the ship, or see the colors they were flying?”
Massinissa nodded slowly. “We were hiding at the villages edge, on our way back from the fields when they attacked. We were afraid. But we forced ourselves to watch. I heard a name. I think it was their ship. It was Whydah Galley.”
Hannibal leaned forward quickly. He nearly spilled his coffee. He gave Massinissa a hard stare. The woman did not even flinch. Absently, he thought, he was starting to like her. Hannibal said, “This is important, Massinissa. Are you sure they said, Whydah Galley?”
With her lips pressed into a hard line, the young woman returned Hannibal’s level gaze, and nodded. “I am sure Captain Black. I had never heard the name before. It sounded so different that it stuck in my thoughts.”
Hannibal sat up straight in his chair. Tilting back his cup, he finished his coffee. “Then we haven’t any time to spare. Come with me.” He stood, dropped some coin on the table for his meal, and flipped Nyima a full piece of eight on his way out with the two Berbers in tow. Nyima smiled her gratitude at him as he left. His own smile only lasted long enough for him to get several paces down the street from the tavern. Hannibal did not believe in omens. But maybe the name of the tavern should have given him pause. La Course de Fou, was French. It translated to, Fool’s Errand.
Hannibal despised the pirates of the Barbary Coast. They did not hunt merchant ships on the open sea, for treasure. They were slavers. They raided the coast, from northern Morocco to Tripoli, for people. They raided villages, captured people, and sold them into slavery. Hannibal
had become well-known for hunting them. He was called a pirate too. But Hannibal did not hunt merchant ships, he hunted pirate ships that turned to slaving. Hannibal, along with his crew, attacked Barbary pirate ships, freeing the captured people and plundering the ships for gold, silver, rum, salt, or whatever other treasures they invariably carried. It was a lucrative business. But the treasure was never Hannibal’s true motivation. It kept his ship well-supplied and repaired, and his crew fat and happy. Hannibal’s reward was seeing the people set free and the pirates made to pay.
As long as he had been hunting pirate ships there was one that eluded him. The Whydah Galley was one of the most notorious pirate ships in the entire Atlantic. She raided up and down the Barbary Coast. But Hannibal knew the name from a much older history. The crew of the Whydah was brutal. Her captain was cunning. They filled their coffers with the blood money made from shattered lives. Hannibal was itching to get his hands on them. There were wounds to repay and the crew of the Whydah Galley was going to repay it all with interest.
Hannibal turned toward the docks. Reaching into his coat, he retrieved his long-stemmed pipe. After filling it from a pouch he removed from a different pocket, he scanned the street vendors as he passed. A lovely, plump woman in a green tunic was grilling fresh fish. It smelled heavenly. Only a full stomach allowed him to resist. But he was able to prevail upon her for a lit piece of straw. Hannibal puffed away to get the tobacco in his pipe bowl burning nicely. With a flick of his wrist, he smothered the flame, leaving the piece of straw smoldering on the ground.
Alhamara was a typical city for the Senegalese coast. It sat on a rise, with its reddish-brown stone dotting the landscape of the coastline like an anthill. The stone was well-laid. It was only when you walked the streets that the anticipated brightness of the Senegal aesthetic became evident. There were arches everywhere. Building fronts were inset with colored stone arranged in squares and rectangles. A darkly-stained door was surrounded by white stone in the shape of an arch. The white stone was surrounded by a square of red, which was engulfed, in turn, by a rectangle of blue tile. A few paces farther down the street and the walls exploded in bright yellow, green, and blue tile, arranged in dozens of small, multi-colored circles. Even the streets were laid with stone tile in amazing colors and designs. It was a beautiful city. Hannibal liked it for two reasons. It was far enough south, along the coast, that it was generally safe from pirate activity. And it was clean. Alhamara was one of the cleanest cities he had ever visited. He enjoyed being able to walk down the street without smelling days-old refuse or having to weave around puddles. He certainly did not miss people heaving dirty water from second story windows. Hannibal left a trail of pipe smoke behind him on his way to the docks. He was not trying to ignore his walking companions on their trip to the docks but he needed the time to think.
Overhead, Hannibal saw arctic terns flittering about. The birds were white with black beaks and heads. They would soon be darting from the sky, into the water along the coast, catching lunch. Hannibal watched one catch an updraft of air. It went straight up with barely a flap. His mind went back to a late night, many months ago. It was on one of his earliest trips to Alhamara to resupply the Gambit. He and Ebrima were beginning to get to know one another. The Gambit had arrived late, so Hannibal arrived at the tavern just before closing. Ebrima was kind enough to allow him to stay, fixed him a late supper, and sat with him, drinking rum late into the night. In a moment of candor, Ebrima told him no one had supported his dream to open a tavern in the city. He was told again and again that it was a fool’s errand. Ebrima grew up in a family that herded goats. While it was a good living, he had always wanted to be near the sea, in a city. He ignored the naysayers and opened his tavern. When he did, he named it Fool’s Errand, so he would never forget. That story stuck with Hannibal. He used it to remind himself of his own purpose whenever he began to doubt himself. The search for the Whydah Galley had begun to feel like a fool’s errand. Maybe, it was just that. But like Ebrima, he was going to find out for himself.
When he arrived at the docks, he could see three of his crew, at the end of one of the piers, waiting for him in the longboat. Just before stepping onto the pier, Hannibal ducked into a nearby merchant’s shop. It was a sundries shop. Though they did have a lot of candles. He was only interested in using some writing materials. He left Massinissa and Anaruz on the street outside the shop. For a single, silver coin, the husband obliged him with a piece of parchment, a quill, and ink. When he finished, he picked up his companions again at the front door and continued on to the docks.
As Hannibal approached his crew, he saw that two of them were seated in the boat, with oars in their hands, while his First Mate stood on the dock watching him approach. If he knew Safiya, she also had an eye on the street behind him. Normally, pirate ships had Quartermasters serving as second in command. But Hannibal never wanted his crew to think of themselves as pirates in the traditional sense. Though they were neither a merchant ship, nor a military vessel, he still preferred the more respectable chain of command. The Gambit had a Quartermaster, but Salke was third in command, behind his First Mate Safiya.
Safiya was probably the finest sailor Hannibal had ever met. She had a sharp mind, a deadly sword hand, and, more importantly, was loyal to a fault. The woman was also a tough chess partner. She snapped-to as he approached. Pirates did not knuckle their foreheads, but she liked the show of respect for her Captain. When he nodded, she relaxed. Safiya had a beautiful, brown complexion, with matching eyes. Her hair was a long, black, curly explosion that covered her head like a giant bundle of soft wool. She was nearly as tall as Hannibal. Her white, silk shirt was buttoned to the neck. She wore a light-blue tunic, with red embroidery around the button holes, over the shirt. The tunic belted, with silver buckles on brown straps, across the chest. She wore a red, silk scarf around her neck. It matched the much larger, silk sash around her waist. The brown, leather bracers, covering her forearms, matched the spauldrons on her shoulders. Her forearms were resting easily on the butts of the set of flintlock pistols tucked into her sash. They were gifts from him, and similar to his own. The beautiful woodwork was accentuated by silver trim, covered with flowery engraving. Safiya also carried three knives and a saber, which hung from her leather belt, buckled over the red sash.
Hannibal nodded for Safiya to get in the longboat. He took a few moments to speak with the dock master. Hannibal gave him the sealed parchment and a gold coin to make sure it found its way to the right person. Janic was not above a bit of graft on the docks but he was a man of his word. The missive was safe in his hands. Hannibal crossed the docks to the longboat and motioned for Massinissa and Anaruz to hop in. His crew did not even blink an eye. After a brief conversation with Safiya, about the other two longboats he sent ashore for supplies, they were on their way out to the Gambit. She sat, at anchor, out in the bay.
The Gambit was a Man-of-war class ship. She had once served as a ship of the line in the British navy. Now, she was his ship. As the longboat approached, Hannibal puffed on his pipe and took in the view. No matter how many times he saw her from a distance it still gave him pleasure. She had three masts, each with four sails. She was fitted with seventy cannons, ranging from thirty-two pounds to twelve. There were thirty on each side, two fore, and eight aft. She could carry more, but he did not want the added weight. He led a crew of three-hundred and ten. The Gambit could carry another two hundred crew easily but Hannibal liked the added space. And so did his crew. He preferred that there was room for his crew to keep themselves freshly bathed and for them to have sufficient room to sleep. He did not like stepping over sailors as he made his way around the ship. Hannibal also liked keeping the Gambit fast.
As the longboat closed on the Gambit, Hannibal could see the crew preparing for departure. The other longboats were stowed so the supplies must have already been stored. Safiya was an exemplary First Mate. It was not long before Hannibal was stepping down onto the deck to shouts of, “Captain
on deck!”
The men and women of the Gambit were all African. A handful had come with him from his posting on a previous ship. The rest of them had been liberated from pirate ships aiming to sell them into slavery. The overwhelming majority of the people Hannibal freed went home. But sometimes they chose to join the crew. Hannibal made his way past the main mast, and up the steps to the stern castle. The crew smiled at him as he passed them. Hannibal did not have a half-hungry, inebriated, barefoot crew. He kept them well-clothed, well-fed, and they could leave at anytime with a pocket full of coin. They liked having wool tunics and leather boots. But most of them stayed because they enjoyed burning slave ships to the water-line. The crew also had smiles for Anaruz and Massinissa.
Hannibal found the Quartermaster, Salke, standing amid ship. With some quick reassurances, he turned the two Berbers over to Salke with instructions to provide them with a cabin and anything they needed. Before they left, Massinissa tried to pass Hannibal a pouch full of coins. Holding up his hands, he told her it was unnecessary. They had been looking for the Whydah Galley. He thanked her for the information about the ship’s whereabouts and assured her that no payment was needed. With a bow of her head, and a bright smile, Massinissa allowed Salke to lead her and her brother below deck.
The main deck was clean. Ropes were being coiled, while men and women moved about the ship with purpose. Hannibal made his way to the stern castle, just above the short deck with the ship’s wheel. He leaned against the rail, puffing on his pipe, while watching his crew. Safiya came into view down below him. She was standing before the mast. As if she knew he was ready, she looked up toward the stern castle. Hannibal pulled his pipe from him mouth. Raising his voice, he bellowed, “Weigh anchor!”
Safiya turned to the crew and barked, “Weigh anchor! Prepare to get underway!”
Rococoa Page 5