Home From The Sea

by Keegan, Mel

  “He must have been a beautiful young man, because the captain of the pirate galley took a shine to him. Fell head over heels for him, in fact. They couldn’t even pronounce his real name, so they called him –”

  “Fernando.” Jim swallowed hard. “I know. I was listening. I heard the whole story, the Treasure of Diego Monteras.”

  Toby produced a faint, lopsided smile. “Well, then, there’s no point in me telling it again, is there?”

  Jim was gaping. He knew he was sitting there with his mouth hanging open as if in an attempt to catch flies. “You mean, it’s true?”

  “Every word of it.” Toby drained his mug to the leaves and set it down. “It’s not just a good story, Jim. And incidentally, it is a good yarn. It’s bought my supper many times over. People love hearing it because there’s magic in it. But the best magic is, it’s true. The bit of map and the letter came into the possession of the old woman in Jamaica. She was charged with keeping it safe by her grandson, who’d won it playing pitch and toss, but he never came back to collect it. He was killed in a battle with pirates and she kept the map, the letter, because she knew she was losing her sight and she realized how valuable they were. Nathaniel Burke – he liked to call himself our leader, and most of us found it easier to agree than argue – Nathaniel paid her a trifling sum for it, though the purse was more than she actually needed. Enough for her to live out the rest of her life with a maid to take care of her, food on the table, and a cottage above the beach.”

  He sat back and regarded Jim levelly, soberly. “So there we were, Jim, in Kingston, with a ship – The Rose of Gloucester – that was sturdy enough for those waters, and a crew that had nothing to lose, and a bit of a map. We headed first to Portugal, as I told you before. Not England. We picked up a cargo in Barbados to pay our way, and the voyage east was easy enough. In Lisbon, our navigator made the match between that fragment from Diego Monteras’s chart and a very good new map from a master chartmaker.”

  “And …” Words almost failed Jim. “You outfitted an expedition.”

  “We picked up another cargo in Lisbon, bound for the port of Sao Luis. Again, legitimate work.” Toby was immersed in the memories now. “The pay wasn’t good, but it was enough to get us back to South America, which was at least in the right part of the world and comfortably far from waters where English warships are common. It was summer when we offloaded the cargo, and the Rose sailed north. Believe me, we knew exactly where we were going.”

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Jim breathed. “You found it.”

  “We … found it.” Toby took a long deep breath. “An iron-bound chest of gems, about so big.” He sketched it in the air. “Like a mid-size brandy keg. It was Diego Monteras’s own share of the wealth, and enough to make a king green with envy. Diamonds, emeralds, rubies, pearls, tiny items of exquisite beauty and utterly beyond price.” Toby tipped back his head and closed his eyes. “God! We thought we were free. We thought we had the rest of our lives to live and love and grow old in peace. Charlie and I got very drunk in celebration, and the next morning Nathaniel turned the Rose around and headed us back to civilization, to take on water and fresh food for the voyage home.”

  His face darkened there. Jim was hanging on every syllable now. “A bastard storm came up out of the Atlantic,” Toby said quietly. “It was black as a funeral shroud, and a hundred miles across. We couldn’t make any of the Portuguese anchorages and we were running short of everything, including the time to make attempt a safe passage east before the fair season closed down.

  “We ran ahead of monstrous winds, just two sails up and praying for calm waters. We got them, limped into the lee of an island without any name, and set about making repairs. We were a mess of broken rigging and smashed yards, we could go no further.” His face looked bruised now. “The devil sent the bill. He always does. And we paid up in spades.

  “We were jumped by a ship of His Majesty’s navy, and thank gods she was just a tiddler, a sloop of war carrying 20 guns and a crew of 50 men at most. They knew the Rose on sight, since we were bloody notorious as a mutineer crew that was still at large. They came up on us in the halflight before dawn when our lookouts were dead asleep, damn them, and boarded us.

  “It was only sheer luck that the king’s men didn’t find the treasure – they weren’t looking for it, and Nathaniel had just enough warning to get it hidden. Less than an hour later, we were named as mutineers and sentenced to hang right there on our own deck. We weren’t even to be shipped back to England in chains to stand trial.” The blue eyes closed.

  “You fought,” Jim whispered.

  “We fought. Of course we fought! Cornered animals always will.” Toby took a long deep breath and got a grip on himself and the raw memories. “Nathaniel was armed – he always is. He had a couple of pistols that were always kept loaded, and still are. We used to tell him, one day he’d shoot off his own cod, since he kept a brace of loaded pistols stuck in his belt! But that day we were damned glad he had them. He’s a good shot, far better than Barney ever was. Barney’s … well, he was cockeyed. He couldn’t see straight, much less shoot straight.”

  The memories had a grip on Toby now. He was back there, miles and years away, living it all again. “So Nathaniel puts one shot right through the forehead of the white-wigged lieutenant in command of this tiddler of a naval vessel, and the other smack in the throat of his second in command, almost takes his head right off at the shoulders. Hell breaks loose. Every man on both crews is suddenly diving for muskets, pistols, swords, tools, anything we can get our hands on.”

  For a moment he was silent, and his voice was hoarse as he said bitterly, “The decks really did run scarlet. A number of us were killed outright, more died later from their wounds. But we accounted for the naval crew right down to the last jack tar, may God forgive us, which I doubt he will. It was a matter of survival and liberty … and even a whipped dog will turn and fight at the end, supposing it’s the death of him.” He shivered visibly. “The deck of the Rose was a battleground, as if we’d fought a small war, which we won. There’s a place in hell set aside for the winners of battles, Jim, and I fully expect to roast there for a very long time indeed. Not,” he added pointedly, “that I’ll be alone on the spit.

  “We had only barely enough hands left alive and strong enough to crew the Rose, get her out of there. Some of the men were for seizing the naval sloop, but the rest of us pointed out the wisdom of scuttling her. She was far too recognizable – she’d get us killed before we were out of waters where we could expect to run into English ships.

  “So the stores of the little warship were transferred to the Rose, guns, powder, shot and all, and then we took the sloop herself out into deep water and opened the seacocks. She was gone in a few minutes, and her crew with her, God rest them. They were good lads, following orders, and we … we were fighting for our very lives. We either died fighting or we died hanging by our necks from every yardarm on our own ship – what choice did they give us?

  “Hours later, we slithered away under cover of darkness and turned south, to the comparative safety of Portuguese waters. The question was,” he said philosophically, “what to do next?”

  Jim steepled his fingers on the table and studied them. “You could have stayed in the Americas. Those Portuguese harbors would have sheltered you.”

  “True. And a few of us made that argument.” Toby sighed heavily. “But we’re Englishmen, and several of us are sinners, like so many men.” He lifted a brow at Jim, knowing Jim would know what he meant. He was not about to come right out and say it, since Mrs. Clitheroe was listening. “Few of us spoke the language, and fewer yet could stomach the food. Many wanted to go home, and I can’t say I blame them. With money in their pockets, it was Bristol and Liverpool and Southampton they wanted, not Caracas and Paramaribo and Fortaleza.” His brows rose, creasing his forehead. “So we sat down around the captain’s table, drank a great deal of rum, argued a lot, fought a little, and came to a deci
sion.

  “We’d split up and head in eight different directions. The navy was looking for the ship, the crew as a whole, not a bunch of individuals, you see. One by one, we’d be safe. The Rose’s records were destroyed, of course. But we rightly feared we’d be recognized if we stuck together. A hundred people watched the Rose victualing and taking on crew back in Plymouth. Put a bunch of us together in one place – oh, yes, we’d soon be spotted, arrested. Hung.

  “We left the Rose beached about a mile up an inlet, where the river’s tidal. I daresay she’s still there – rank-rotten, of course, since the weather soon takes a ship apart, the moment she’s neglected. Or perhaps a crew found her, floated her off, and she’s plying the Caribbean under a different flag, perhaps even a pirate flag. I hope she is. I came to be fond of her, and she was always a good ship, no matter the cruelty that took place on her and the meanness of her first captain.

  “From Sao Luis we traveled east on different ships, all merchantmen. For myself, I was on a Spanish vessel, La Dama de las Flores. I worked my passage with every manner of task that can fall to a deckhand. Thank heavens I knew my way around a ship by that time! After the battle, with so few of us left, we all did everything on the Rose just to stay alive. If you didn’t possess a skill, you learned it fast.” He gave Jim a faint smile. “You said I had the look of a monkey who’s been used to scampering about in the rigging, setting lines. I’ve done that – aye, and in a storm!

  “The Dama took me to Corunna, and from there I wandered. Just wandered wherever my feet would take me, and earned my living where I could, and if I could. I did many a job … came to speak Spanish fluently in a few months. Wandered up into France and back south again. Became a balladsinger quite by chance, when I had a bit of luck in a seamen’s tavern, singing Spanish versions of English shanties, which they thought was hilarious.

  “The rest of us had headed to other ports – France, Flanders, Denmark, Ireland. I never knew where the others were. We agreed on only one thing: we’d come back here to The Raven at this very time, give or take a day or three, as the winds blow. The 20th day of April, 1769. And we swore we wouldn’t turn up here one day ahead of the date.”

  “But why here?” Jim demanded. “I mean, I’m extremely glad you did walk up my path! But why?”

  “Charlie Chegwidden,” Toby told him promptly. “His mother owned this tavern, and when she died it was to come to him. We all knew this. He was the only one of us with a proper place to go back to, a place to call home … and he was the only one of us that the whole group trusted. The rest of them?” He shook his head slowly. “They couldn’t be relied on not to break up the treasure of Diego Monteras, bauble by bauble, drink half of it away and disappear with the other half. Charlie was a simple man. A good man. And,” he added thoughtfully, “he looked as healthy as a horse when we parted company.

  “Captain Graves’s papers were tossed into the sea. With my own eyes I watched them float away in tatters, and the crew of the naval sloop had all perished. There was no actual written record that Charlie was ever on the Rose, much less still aboard at the time of the mutiny. Somebody might have seen him sign on in Plymouth and happened to know him by name, but we reckoned it was far from likely. He had no business in Plymouth, no kin there. We all believed he was safe enough to be coming home. Now you tell me, our own Fred Bailey saw him that day, and remembers.” Toby shrugged philosophically. “It looked like a fair wager, and we took it. I believe we had luck on our side yet again! Fred might have his suspicions to this day, but he’s never said a word, and why would he, him being a friend of both Charlie and his old mother.” He frowned at Jim now. “How did Charlie die?”

  Jim sat back, looking along at Mrs. Clitheroe, who had heard every word. She was sitting in the chair by the hearth, the black cat asleep in her lap, both dogs at her feet. Her eyes were shrewd as those of a hawk as she surveyed the two young men. She had been cooking here since Charlie’s mother owned the tavern – she knew everything about The Raven’s business. Jim’s only secrets were much more personal.

  “He was ill when me and my father got off the coach and started looking around for lodgings and a livelihood. We talked to the parson, and Vicar Morley told us to come right here. Seems old Charlie had let it be known he wanted to sell on account of his health. But he didn’t want to leave, he was absolutely decided about it. He wasn’t about to take one step away from The Raven, as long as he lived. And he held to the promise, Toby. He kept his word till the last. He was protecting the chest, wasn’t he? And that’s what you came here looking for.”

  “Heaven help me, it was.” Toby sat back and knuckled his eyes, pulled his fingers through his hair, worked his neck too and fro. The arm was paining him, and Jim came around the table to examine it. Toby watched with heavy eyes as he unpinned the sleeve, untied the bandage, and peered at the wound. “I thought, if I could just take a few of the baubles, not even a handful, I’d be away and gone before Nathaniel and Barney and the rest sobered up and appeared along the path. A few of the baubles, Jim, and a man could live well, lifelong, if he was careful in his spending. I wasn’t greedy, and as sure as all hell, I didn’t want to look into the faces of Barney and Nathaniel and that crew ever again.” He shrugged. “I never had luck. I don’t know why I should be surprised Charlie died, but I knew the others wouldn’t be more than a day or three behind me. I spotted Barney and Nathaniel on the street in Exmouth – Marguerite was traipsing about after Barney. Seems she’d attached herself to him eight or ten months ago. Well, he kept her out of a brothel for the last of her days, which is something to be grateful for. Bless her poor heart, she had the same lousy luck as myself.”

  “You?” Jim made negative noises. “Your luck changed the day you walked up the path, looking for Charlie Chegwidden, and found Jim Fairley instead.” He studied Toby closely. “You don’t have to worry about the bold Barney Bellowes any longer. How many others were in Exmouth? How many are we expecting?”

  For a moment Toby continued to frown at him. “You’ll throw in with me?”

  “For a chance at a share in the prize, and for the sake of mateship?” Jim demanded. “You and me?” He dropped his voice, well under the old lady’s range of hearing. “If you know what I mean by you and me.”

  “Oh, I know what you mean!” Toby permitted a low chuckle. “When we went our separate ways there were just eight of us left of the original company from the Rose, counting me and Charlie. Now, Charlie’s long gone and Barney’s stone cold in the cellar, which leaves five of them, and myself. I saw Nathaniel and Joe in Exmouth. That’s Nathaniel Burke and Joe Pledge. Eli Hobbs and Rufus Bigelow and Willie Tuttle are still out there, headed for Exmouth and then here. I’m just lucky Nathaniel and the others stayed in Exmouth long enough to drink themselves legless and get good and poxed! Barney just sobered up first and risked the weather to get here. And you have to admit, Jim, the prize is worth getting wet and cold.”

  “The prize.” Jim was on his feet now, pacing between the table and the hearth. “The trouble is, I’ve never seen any such chest. There’s nothing on this entire property that looks or smells vaguely like it.”

  “The real trouble is,” Toby corrected, “Nathaniel and the rest of them won’t believe a word we say. They’re going to say I came here, found the chest, took it out of here and hid it, with or without your knowledge.”

  “And me?” Jim was conscious of a pulse hammering in his throat. “They’re going to take one look at you and me and – you know.”

  “They’ll assume we’re partnered up to swindle them.” Toby pushed up to his feet. “I’m so sorry, Jim. I’ve put you in terrible danger.”

  “Damn.” Jim closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the thin edge of old fashioned panic hovering in his nerve endings, and then he rubbed his face hard, forcing himself to think. “It’s too late for them to get here tonight, I’d say. For a start, there’s more heavy weather on its way – do you hear the wind and rain? If they haven’t shown up al
ready today, they’re not going to.”

  “The weather might win us an extra day,” Toby hazarded. “But the only way for you to be safe is for me to go.”

  “That’s not going to stop Burke and Pledge and the crew walking right up to my door!”

  “True. But you can always say you never saw me, nor Barney.” Toby’s shoulders lifted in a faint shrug. “The only people who know Bellowes was here are in this room. You can be sure Nathaniel and the rest will search this house from cellar to rafters, so we’ll need to get the body out of there.”

  Jim was two steps ahead of him. “Dealing with Bellowes is simple enough. As soon as it’s dark, we’ll drag him out to my boat – she’s just a rowboat, on the beach not fifty yards from here. We’ll carry him out just far enough to float, and let the tide take him. The fish’ll have him halfway bare to the bone before the weather breaks, and by then Burke and his crew will have finished here, and gone. If his remains wash up, he’ll be buried as a ‘stranger taken by the sea,’ and there’s the end of it.”

  “Then, I’ll be gone in the morning,” Toby said softly, “and when they turn up at your door, Jim … for godsakes let them do what they want, smash what they want. They’ll be in a fine fury when they find nothing here, but since you’re living the life of a simple innkeeper, it’s obvious you never found anything Charlie hid. If you’d found it, you’d have bought yourself a title and be living up in London! Now, Charlie’s buried in the Budleigh churchyard so, sure as hell, he didn’t make off with it. It’s a mystery, it’ll always be a mystery. They can take the puzzle away with them. And then,” he added darkly, “you and I might discover just what old Charlie did with that chest!”

  “And where will you be?” Jim asked quietly. “What’s to say the likes of Burke and Pledge won’t put a pistol ball in me, the way Bellowes took a shot at you? I want you here, Toby. Maybe not in plain view of the bastards, so I can tell them I never even heard of you, and be believed. But I want you close enough to hear a good, loud shout … two pistols and the boat gun, loaded and ready. All right?”