Shark’s head snapped around, quick as a serpent’s strike. With an oath, he snatched up his bloodstained cutlass!
Not even thinking, I dived headfirst for the window, taking the filmy curtain with me. To my horror, the pirate was so quick that I felt his hand close on my ankle, jerking me to a stop and bringing me crashing to earth on my chin. Yellow light flashed in my eyes, and my head spun.
I did not pass out, though, and yanked my leg hard, bracing with my other foot against the window-sill. Jessie was standing, and when she saw what was happening, she thought fast. I heard another crunch and a howl of pain, and my ankle was free. I tumbled down and sprang to my feet, tearing the curtain away from me. Jessie had slammed the window sash down on Shark’s wrist, so hard that I imagined she broke some bones. His hand was caught, the fingers clenching in fury. I heard muffled curses from behind the window and knew we had to move fast.
“Come on!” I gasped, and set off at a run for the back of the house and the dining room.
Like the study, the dining room, too, had French doors. They were probably locked, but that did not stop me. Through them I could see Mr. Meade, his back to me, standing and waving his hand as he spoke to Captain Hunter. I raised my leg and gave the lock of the door an almighty flat-footed kick. The doors flew inward, glass shattering from the panes, and Jessie and I were inside, and I was yelling across the table, “Captain! Treachery! Come on!”
We hurtled past the astonished form of Mr. Meade. Hunter threw his chair back, leaped onto the table himself, his sword already drawn and, with a whisk of the blade, he cut the rope holding the big chandelier. He had jumped to the floor and had grabbed my arm when the massive thing smashed onto the table behind him, plunging us into darkness. Glass flew everywhere. Hunter pushed me and dragged Jessie into the hall, slammed the door behind him, and jammed a chair beneath the handle. “Where’s Brixton?” he demanded of me.
I pointed toward the front of the house. “There! But I don’t know—”
The study door ahead of us flew open, and a wild-eyed Captain Shark lunged out, cherishing his broken right hand against his chest and brandishing his cutlass with his left. He cursed and raised the sword awkwardly, but Hunter had whipped out a pistol. It went off right beside my ear, deafening me and causing me to close my eyes in shock. When I opened them, only Shark’s legs were visible, the rest of his body thrown back inside the study doorway. He must have been wounded, not killed, for he moved his legs, as if trying to get up again. Hunter pushed me again, and I jumped over the outstretched, twitching legs.
In the entry hall, I pointed to the paneling. “Behind there, but I don’t know how it works!”
Hunter made no ado about that. As I had done, he kicked at the paneling, and it split beneath his boot. Another kick, and he had broken a hole the size of my head. He grabbed this, and with a grunt shoved left and right. A blow of his shoulder made something crack, and the panel gave inward.
Hunter took a step into the room and then stopped. I heard him groan.
Unlike the other rooms, this one had only one candle. In its feeble light, though, I saw ruin. Poor Captain Brixton lay stark dead upon the bed, his head thrown back and his throat cut from ear to ear. The villains must have done that when they first came into the house.
Hunter whirled and said, “There’s no helping him. Out, quickly!”
By then I could hear distant shouts. We plunged out the front door into the night. A pirate, one of Shark’s men, was almost to the gate. He heard us and turned, cutlass out, but Hunter was on him with a furious rain of sword-cuts. The pirate screamed for help, but in the instant that he turned his attention away, Hunter raised his sword and punched the man square in the face with the pommel, stretching him out on the ground.
“Fly!” Hunter yelled. “To the ship!”
We were through the gate and stumbling on the rutted road, but Hunter dragged Jessie and me into the woods. “This way is better,” he said.
Seconds later, hoofbeats drummed past on the road. One of the pirates, I supposed, going for reinforcements.
“Sir,” I panted, “Captain Steele—”
“Tell me about him later,” snapped Hunter. “Across this field!”
I suppose that we ran through a tobacco field. It was planted with something that had been harvested but had left little stumps, anyway. The moon gave us just enough light to make running dangerous—what we thought was solid ground would turn out to be a hole or a stone in our path. Still, we cut across the field, through some woods, and then came out on another road. We turned left on it, toward Cayona. Some little farmhouses were scattered along our way, and as we passed them, dogs barked and once, a donkey brayed forlornly.
But we were going downhill, at least. At last we saw lights ahead, and then we were on the outskirts of town. Hunter had learned the lay of the land well. He led us at a smart clip through winding narrow alleys until we came to the very wharf where the Aurora lay tied. “All aboard?” he asked the astonished Mr. Gray as we hurried up the ship.
“Aye, sir, but the doctor’s party is just on the point of going back for Captain Brixton,” said Gray.
“He need not bother,” Hunter said shortly. “Cast off, and make sail. We’re minutes ahead of men who wish us ill!”
“Aye,” Gray replied, and in a second he was barking orders that brought men swarming up from belowdecks.
Uncle Patch came onto the deck as well, his face showing open wonder. “What the blazes is afoot?” he demanded, his voice peevish.
“They killed Brixton,” Hunter told him flatly. “I’ve escaped by the grace of God and the skin of my teeth. Davy’s safe, and so is his friend here. How is Lieutenant Fairfax?”
“Well enough and entirely unhurt. But what the devil happened?”
“Captain Steele!” I shouted.
“Later,” ordered Captain Hunter.
“Listen, William,” my uncle said in an odd voice, “There’s something I must tell you about Fairfax—”
“Later,” Hunter said again.
I tried once more: “Captain Steele is—”
“Later!” roared Hunter.
My uncle was saying, “Lieutenant Fairfax is—”
“Quiet!” Hunter shouted, in a voice of command that made both of us hush. He then said, “Later we’ll have a council of war. But the first thing to do is to get the ship safely to sea!”
Already sails were dropping and filling with the night breeze, and already the Aurora was gliding away from the wharf. The moon went behind a cloud. I heard, or imagined I heard, the clatter of hoofs from somewhere ashore. But if it was Steele, or Steele’s men, they were too late. The Aurora and those who sailed on her were safe.
At least for the moment.
Council of War
“MEADE WAS STEELE?” Captain Hunter stood in the middle of his great cabin, his mouth opened like that of a hooked fish.
“Aye, and probably still is,” said Uncle Patch, sprawled in one of the chairs, his blunt, powerful fingers massaging his forehead.
Hunter clenched both fists. “I had him… he was there, right there, across the table from me … Jack Steele himself … thunder and blast! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Davy did not know,” said Lieutenant Fairfax from where he sat slumped forward with his head on the captain’s table. “None of us knew. I did not, and I saw the man almost every day for near a month.”
William Hunter strode back and forth across the length of the cabin like a tiger in a cage. Jessie and I were sitting on his cot, and I was hoping he would forget we were there.
“How could I not have known!” Hunter raged. “Why did not I notice? He fit every description of the monster!”
“Calm yourself, now, William. You will worry yourself into an apoplexy!” Uncle Patch snapped, still rubbing his forehead. “Tall and pale, so your description of Steele goes. Well, Meade was tall and pale, but he faded into the background, so he did, save for that white wig that made you overlo
ok every other feature. He made us see just what he wanted us to see, just as you do in your ridiculous pirate costume.”
Hunter drew himself up with injured dignity. “It is not the same thing at all.”
“It is,” chimed in Lieutenant Fairfax in his curiously soft voice. “You parade in your marvelously dramatic pirate garb, so no one will see the naval officer you so obviously are. Captain Steele dresses in drab colors so you would not see the pirate in crimson and red everyone is terrified of.” He leaned back into his chair. “Are all seafaring men so theatrical?”
At that last comment, Hunter frowned, and my uncle glared at the young man, who sighed. “I’m not a complete popinjay, Dr. Shea. I may not have recognized the most notorious freebooter north of the Spanish Main, but I do have ears. I have heard Meade speak of Steele’s plans. His own plans, though he spoke in the third person. I believe Captain Steele is trying to unite all the Brethren of the Coast into one force, commanded, of course, by himself. I believe he was using the late Monsieur Gille to further that purpose. Monsieur Gille was not truly the sponsor of the pirates—Steele was. Gille was a foolish man whom he worked like a puppet on strings.”
“Tortuga Harbor is filled with pirate ships,” Hunter mused, while my uncle nodded grimly. “United under one commander, they would be the greatest single force in the West Indies. We must do something.”
So for the next several hours, the adults plotted and planned back and forth, or Hunter and Uncle Patch did, with the occasional comment from Fairfax. His words just seemed to annoy my uncle. Finally, the captain threw up his hands. “There’s nothing for it. We can’t do this alone. We’re going to need help. We’re going to need the Concepción.”
Silence fell in the cabin. Naturally, it was my uncle Patch who found his tongue first. “The Concepción?” he asked sarcastically. “D’ye mean a big black Spanish brute of a war galleon with more guns than most ships have men? Commanded by a Don who hates pirates? Like us? That Concepción is it, now?”
Hunter nodded, and Uncle Patch exploded. “Oh, for the love of heaven, William, have you taken leave of your wee mind? He’ll blow us out of the water as soon as he sees us! And he has reason, for the last time we met you took down his mizzenmast and cost him a prize! We won’t be that lucky twice. And even if he does treat with us, you can no more trust a Spaniard to honor a flag of truce than you can an—”
“Englishman?” flared Hunter. I had never seen him so angry.
With a rueful grin, my uncle said softly, “Aye. Or an Irishman who lets his tongue run away now and again.”
“Dr. Shea is correct,” said Lieutenant Fairfax slowly. “I have heard much about Don Esteban. There is no way Don Esteban will allow the Aurora close enough to treat. However, if you come close enough where he can see a flag of truce, you can send me over in a boat and I can appeal to him.”
Uncle Patch turned absolutely purple, and I feared for his heart. Why was he getting furious every time the lieutenant made a suggestion? He spluttered, “Of all the harebrained—I forbid it!”
The lieutenant stared at him coldly. “For what reason?”
“Ye know full well!” My uncle swallowed his rage and dropped his voice into a harsh whisper you could still have heard in Port Royal. “Don’t push this matter, I warn you. Luck and pluck will take ye only so far.”
“What is the matter with you two?” the captain snapped. “This is a brave offer, Patch, bravely made!”
Lieutenant Fairfax smiled, and Uncle Patch snarled. Jessie murmured, “He’s going to tell!”
“Tell what?” I asked, as ignorant as an egg.
“Then it’s settled,” Fairfax said.
But Hunter shook his head. “No, sir, it is not. If Don Esteban would not listen to a pirate, he surely would not listen to an officer of His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”
My uncle crossed his arms. “Well?” he asked. “Are you going to answer that?”
For a moment, Fairfax sat silent. Then, with a curious smile at my uncle, he said, “I have heard of Don Esteban, the gallant privateer.” His hands worked away at the black ribbon that tied his hair back behind his head. “And while it is true he hates the English as much as he hates pirates, he is said to be most civilized where women are concerned.” And he shook his head, and rich chestnut hair flew in all directions.
“Ah, such a gorgeous head and not a brain in it,” Jessie muttered behind me. “Now we’re in for it.”
I didn’t say a word because, like Captain Hunter, I was sitting there with my mouth open. The soft lieutenant had disappeared, and in his place—and in his clothes, which were what had so scandalized Uncle Patch—stood a striking young woman with a very smug smile on her beautiful face. For a change, the first person to speak was the captain.
“You,” he said in an accusing voice, “are a woman!”
Uncle Patch creaked with laughter. “Faith, I wondered how long it would be! If you’d stop playacting yourself long enough to take notice of those around you—”
The woman combed her thick hair back from her face with her fingers. “I am afraid that Jessie wasn’t the only one who felt it necessary to alter her appearance when the Venture was taken. I can’t tell you how hard it was to keep up the charade, but the two of us managed.”
Hunter turned a beady eye on my uncle. “How long have you known about this, Doctor?”
Uncle Patch sniffed. “I would be no doctor at all, now, if I could not diagnose a patient’s gender. How long have I known? Since the first time I clapped eyes on the lieutenant, though she begged me not to break the news to you until she told you first.”
The captain took a deep breath and held it for a long time before he let it out. “Madam,” he said formally, “I fear you have the advantage of me.”
“Forgive my rudeness, sir,” she said, bowing prettily from the waist. “I am Miss Helena Fairfax, and I am entirely in your debt.”
Uncle Patch, still making the odd creaking sound that was his way of laughing, said, “Now is that your true last name, or is it negotiable?”
“It is Fairfax, Doctor. I am the only daughter of the late Francis Fairfax, Viscount Almsby, and Lady Helena Trevor Fairfax. My brother, Richard, is the present Viscount Almsby. You’d like him. He is an officer, too, but in the army. He falls off his horse now and then, but I imagine you sailors must have occasional seasickness.”
“Well,” said Hunter. “Of course it’s clean out of the question now. You could not possibly negotiate with Don Esteban.”
Miss Fairfax drew herself up to her full height, which put the top of her head right under the captain’s chin. “Neither you nor I have any choice, Captain Hunter. I know ships, sir. My uncle Vere is a vice-admiral. I know of the pirate armada waiting in Tortuga Harbor. And I know who will command them and what he waits for!”
“What he waits for?” snapped Hunter. “What’s that?”
“I know you are brave, sir. Your surgeon has spoken to me of your deeds, and I have seen you in action. But I have seen something you have not and it frightens me more than anything I might have suffered at the Commodore’s.”
And now I could see the fear in her eyes and even as she set her jaw, her face became pale. “Tell us,” my uncle said, quite gently.
With her eyes flashing, Miss Fairfax said, “I have seen the Red Queen, Captain Hunter, towering over Shark’s Sultana, like a castle over a cabin, all over blood and gold. She is what Steele waits for, queen to his king.”
“The Queen may well be delayed,” said Hunter. “Somehow Steele will have to get a message to her. If the messenger was stopped, then perhaps she would not come at all.”
“The Red Queen will come, sir,” said Miss Fairfax definitely. “I have heard the talk, and you may depend upon it. The Red Queen will come.”
In the deepening silence we all took in what Miss Fairfax had said. The Red Queen was the most fearsome ship of war in these seas. If Steele was indeed only waiting for her to sail into Tortuga Harbor—
Well, we were going to need all the help we could get. Even from the Concepción.
For the next two days, we prowled the seas to the west of Tortuga, men constantly scanning the horizon for sight of a great black warship with a red and gold flag. Miss Fairfax and Jessie were in residence in Captain Hunter’s cabin. Old Phineas Grice, the sailmaker, hauled in bolts of captured silk and satin. He had turned tailor for the time, and was helping Miss Fairfax stitch together a gown or two, for if she was to appeal to Don Esteban, she could hardly do so dressed as a man. I wondered what sort of scarecrow costume Mr. Grice would work up, for he was one of Morgan’s crew, a rough old pirate.
Meanwhile, Jessie sat cross-legged on the deck, her sharp tongue tight in the corner of her mouth, sewing scraps of cloth together with tiny, tiny stitches. I had no idea that women’s clothing was so complicated.
Late on the second day, the lookout cried out, “A sail!” and pointed to the west at the same time. We crowded to the rail and there she was, at first just the faint flash of white as the lowering sun struck her sails. We altered course, and before long, we saw her hull-up, riding the horizon like a great black crow hovering over the water.
She saw us and changed her own course, coming up fast. When she was close enough, the captain ordered one of the windward guns fired to show that he wanted a peaceful encounter, and had the men haul up the white flag of truce. We all held our breaths until the Concepción fired her own gun and hoisted her own white flag.
“Well,” muttered Hunter, “at least he won’t blow us out of the water without saying a polite hello first.”
In the face of my uncle’s strong objections, I had been chosen to row Miss Fairfax and Jessie over. Nothing looks less like a boarding party than a twelve-year-old boy, the captain said. Then the doors to the grand cabin opened, and our negotiators stepped out on deck, followed by a beaming sailmaster.
I was impressed. Phineas did good work. Miss Fairfax wore a pale dress of cream-colored silk with all those strange ruffles and tucks quality women seem so fond of. And behind her came Jessie, her head demurely down, and clad in a maid dress that made me almost forget she was, well, Jessie. The men stood around, and a number of them even removed their hats. Captain Hunter came up and bowed to them. Miss Fairfax curtsied, and Jessie bobbed.
The Guns of Tortuga Page 8