The Treasure of Barracuda

by Llanos Martinez Campos

  But what I really want to tell you about those days in Barbados happened a day and a half later.

  As I’ve mentioned, Barracuda had an appointment with Bruno, the fabric merchant, in the Tavern of the Siamese Parrot. Nuño, the Whale, and I accompanied the captain. We pirates are brave, but we’re not foolish, and anyone who’s been at this for more than a month knows that you don’t show up to a business meeting alone. It’s not out of fear; it’s because a wary pirate lives longer than a trusting one.

  You might say (and you’d be right) that a child of eleven years is of little use, but I liked to be in the middle of everything. And you can thank me that I was there because that’s why I can now tell this story with all the fullest details. Few things happened that I wasn’t present to witness myself.

  It would have been enough for Barracuda to take only John the Whale to the meeting. The Whale was a formidable figure, and most pirates from other crews gulped just on seeing him. If you had known him the way I did, you’d have realized that he was as good as he was big. He was always saving little kittens from palm trees and petting flea-infested dogs in the most wretched of hovels. He was a softie. But, without a doubt, he was a big softie. And in a fight, if it was necessary, he swung those huge fists of his with precision. But only when it was absolutely necessary.

  So there we were, at the Tavern of the Siamese Parrot. We on one side of the table, and Bruno the Italian on the other side. Bruno was a handsome and slender sort who didn’t look like a pirate (nor did he claim to be one) but who was more dangerous than many who wore a patch and a wooden leg. Bruno was a serious man, never one to joke. He was accompanied by an imposing Turk, whose face was split by an enormous scar and who wore a long dagger on his belt. Two others (possibly Frenchmen) also stood there but never said a word. They stared at us so intently; it looked like they wanted to engrave our faces on their memories.

  The conversation was brief. Barracuda told Bruno what we had brought that might interest him, and the Italian named a price. Things might’ve ended there, with a “Here’s your merchandise” and “Here’s your money,” but Bruno tried to be clever. First, to pay for the fabrics, he put a leather bag of coins on the table, and Nuño picked it up. Then, without anyone expecting it or asking for it, Bruno pulled out a document, placed it on the table, and told the captain to sign it.

  “It’s better to have things written down so that we all know what we’ve agreed to. If you place an X here, that’ll be sufficient,” said Bruno.

  Barracuda looked at the paper, and then with greater scrutiny at Bruno, who smiled like a bride. I didn’t realize that even though the handwriting was terribly messy, the Whale was reading the paper over my shoulder.

  “Wait a minute!” the Whale said, pounding one of his meaty paws on the table.

  Both Nuño and I jumped back, startled, but the captain didn’t even blink. The Whale picked up the document and shook it under Bruno’s nose.

  “Do you think we’re fools?” he asked. “The seas will dry up before Barracuda signs this trash!”

  And then he read at a good pace:

  The captain named Barracuda promises via this document to reserve all the merchandise he acquires on his journeys for Bruno Castilfierro. From this date forward, Mr. Castilfierro will have preference to choose whatever is of interest to him and to name the price.

  Barracuda smiled while he stared at Bruno; John the Whale crumpled the piece of paper, and, to the astonishment of all, swallowed it in a single gulp. That’s what the big lunk was like; he loved to make big, theatrical gestures.

  “Well, Castilfierro,” the captain said very slowly. “Perhaps you thought it would be simple to trick me . . . Yes, you no doubt thought that. On the other hand, I don’t know how you thought a miserable slip of paper could force me to do anything. We’re pirates; papers don’t matter to us, signatures don’t matter to us; our word is enough. If I make a deal, I keep it. Anyone who knows me knows that this is true. And they also know that I never forgive a betrayal. Without exceptions, Italian . . . .”

  An uncomfortable silence followed, to say the least. The two Frenchmen stepped forward, and the Turk placed his hand on his dagger and grunted like a trapped dog.

  “Careful,” I thought. “Don’t let anyone do anything foolish at this moment.”

  Nuño put the leather bag of coins back on the table.

  “We’ll leave this here, gentlemen,” Nuño said calmly. “There is no deal. Here is your money, and each of us will go our way.”

  “Come now, Barracuda!” the merchant protested. “Let’s not get nervous. That money is yours. What are you going to want with all those fabrics? Are you going to have flowered sails on the Southern Cross? It was a misunderstanding and that’s that.”

  Bruno looked at Barracuda, but the captain didn’t open his mouth again. It was the Whale who spoke next.

  “Misunderstandings, bah! You thought you were dealing with a bunch of ignorant pirates, but you’ve shot yourself in the foot!”

  I elbowed him, and he fell quiet.

  “There is no deal,” Nuño repeated, chewing his words. “And no more discussion.”

  Barracuda stood up, glaring nonstop at Bruno. I’ll tell you the truth, when he gets like this, the captain is frightening. Then Barracuda left the room without looking back.

  We did just the opposite: we left walking backward, without taking our eyes off the four angry men at the table. Bruno stood with his fist clenched upon the table and with a face that looked so angry, it was almost funny. Of course, we had no idea that things wouldn’t end there and that we would once again cross paths with Bruno Castilfierro.

  Out on the street again, John the Whale was as happy as a child with new clothes.

  “Did you see that, Sparks? I read it in one go!” The enormous pirate skipped around me like a little puppy wagging its tail. “I looked at the paper, and I said to myself: ’I know how to read this! I know all these letters!’ Oh my! Did you see, Nuño? Did you see? I did it well, didn’t I?”

  “You did it wonderfully, Whale,” Barracuda suddenly said from in front of us, without stopping or turning around.

  Great big John was gobsmacked as if he’d just been struck by lightning. The captain, who had never said anything good about anyone, had just praised him! That night, without a doubt, the happiest pirate beneath the Caribbean stars was my good friend John the Whale!

  The next day, still in the port of Barbados, the crew made us tell them again and again about the encounter with Bruno, the fabric merchant. Every time we reached the bit about the contract, I added some detail to make the tale more interesting, and the Whale laughed like a little kid.

  Barracuda remained at the prow of the ship, thinking about who-knows-what. Suddenly he gave a shout:

  “Nuño!”

  The Spaniard leaped to attention and hurried toward him. They spoke in low voices. Nuño was very surprised by something the captain said to him and shook his head no with vigor. Then he pointed to Two Molars and Erik the Belgian, both of whom became worried. And, since Barracuda seemed to insist, Nuño then pointed to the rest of us; we all became worried. After that, a silence ensued during which the two men stared at one another. Suddenly, Nuño shot away from the prow like a spring and headed over to us, muttering under his breath, “My rotten foul luck!”

  “What did the captain want?” John the Whale asked, placing a hand on Nuño’s shoulder to stop him.

  Nuño stared at him.

  “For me to teach him how to read!” And then he repeated, “My rotten foul luck!”

  One-Legged Jack suddenly started to cackle. “Woo hoo!” he said, between giggles. “He’s going to pull your head off! Explain diphthongs to him, Nuño!” He laughed even more. “Cheer up, my friends! Soon we’ll have a vacancy for the post of second in command on this ship!”

  Nuño kept walking and sat
down in the stern, trying no doubt to invent a better excuse than the ones he had already given the captain to get out of this order.

  “Leave him be,” the Whale said. “He’s got enough problems . . . ”

  “Nuño!” Barracuda shouted again from the prow. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

  We all looked to the stern. Nuño wore a face of utter dismay.

  “But, Captain . . . Now?”

  All of us looked to the prow.

  “It’s as good a moment as any. Weigh anchor! To Trinidad!”

  We all looked to the stern. Nuño remained still for a moment and then he stood up, his face set, and headed to the captain’s quarters. Barracuda went ahead of him and entered first. We could all hear Nuño muttering before the door closed behind him: “My rotten foul luck!”

  Nobody envied Nuño. We all knew that teaching Barracuda had to be worse than being nibbled to death by Two Molars. We also knew that, as if he didn’t have enough to worry about, we would pester him with questions every time he emerged from the captain’s quarters: “How’s it going?” “What has he said about the letter H?” “Has he learned yet that ’all together’ is written separate but the word ’separated’ is written all together?”

  Nuño didn’t answer; he just cursed under his breath. For the next few days, as we sailed toward Trinidad, nobody could read a single line; Phineas’ book was in Barracuda’s chambers the entire time. The captain was stubborn about everything, and he thought that if he worked at it, he could learn to read in a day or two. You can imagine how upset he got when he discovered that this was impossible. After the end of the first lesson, we already heard him shout: “Ma-me-mi-mo-mu? What the barnacle is this ma-me-mi-mo-mu nonsense? Do you think I’m an idiot? I told you to teach me how to read, not to make me look like a fool!”

  And this continued for the next three days. At one point, poor Nuño was trying to convince Barracuda that this was indeed the way one learns to read. Suddenly, we heard two curses in Turkish and the sound of something breaking. Then Nuño shot out of there like a bullet, tugging at the neck of his shirt and saying in a whisper, “It’s impossible! I can’t stand it anymore! Nobody could teach that animal how to read! Two Molars, I don’t know why, but this is all your fault!”

  On the fifth day, either because his patience had worn out or because he had run out of things to break, the captain left his quarters, stuck his hook into the helm, and remained on the bridge, glaring with undeserved hatred at poor Nuño, who seemed to grow older before our very eyes.

  “He’s in the denial phase . . . ” Boasnovas said, looking at the captain.

  “What?” asked Erik the Belgian.

  “You know,” Boasnovas responded. “That moment when reading is so difficult that you think you’re a fool, and that everyone is laughing at you, and that you’ll never be able to do it, and you blame everyone. It’ll pass, you’ll see.”

  “Shiver me timbers, you’re a genius, Boasnovas!” Erik said with his hands on his hips. “It’s incredible, but I know what you’re talking about! We all do!”

  And the rest of us agreed, looking at Barracuda. I don’t know what he thought when he saw us all gawking and nodding at him because he turned his back on us and stared out to sea. Denial, plain as can be . . .

  Trinidad is full of merchants, so you can find almost anything if you’ve got enough money. The city is full of people making deals of all sorts; on any corner you can see handshakes and people spitting onto the ground to seal the deal, not to mention one sort of fight or another.

  It’s not easy to buy and sell things between pirates and people of that ilk. Trust me on this one: a pirate would cut off his leg before he’d go back on his word. But let me also assure you that, in general, pirates don’t place much value on their extremities; they know that appendages are easily lost in any skirmish.

  With all this, I want to tell you that a pirate’s word is worth what it’s worth . . . and that depends directly on what he has to win or lose in the matter; therefore, be very careful.

  This time, since the port of Trinidad isn’t a safe place, Nuño remained on board the Southern Cross with half the crew, and the rest of us (and you know that included me) disembarked with the captain.

  We walked through the streets as if we were a parade, all of us behind Barracuda, who went ahead with a firm step. Although it was a hot day, it was nice to stretch our legs. Suddenly, without saying a word, the captain stopped short; we all looked around for whatever had put him on alert. He turned his head slowly toward a doorway and then raised his head toward an enormous sign painted in blue above the door’s lintel. His eyes grew big as saucers; he looked at all of us, and then without saying a word, he entered the house like a shot. Astonished, we remained on the threshold until we heard him ask from within, “Hey, young lady! Is this an inn?”

  “Yes,” came a female voice. Barracuda emerged, looked up at the sign again and pointed at the blue letters while he moved his lips.

  “It’s an inn,” he said at last, as if he had seen a ghost. “It wasn’t here before, but now it’s an inn,” he read.

  “Yes, Captain, that’s what the sign says in big letters,” Malik told him.

  “Exactly,” Barracuda answered in a whisper as if he were talking to himself. “That’s what it says! Are you lot hungry? Let’s have a drink!” he added, very excited, and went back inside.

  “Now he’s realized,” the Whale said. I looked at him, and he tried to explain himself. “What this business of being able to read is like, I mean. It’s like a deaf man hearing music for the first time . . . It must be like that.”

  We all went inside the inn. Barracuda was euphoric as if he had managed to swim around the Cape of Good Hope. He ordered beer for everyone and a root beer for me.

  “So this is a new inn, eh?” a contented captain said, leaning on the bar. “Well! I had no idea! But, of course, I saw the sign above the door, and I said to myself, ’This is an inn, just like it says there in writing!’”

  The innkeeper looked at us without the slightest degree of interest, to tell the truth. She couldn’t have known that the captain was in a uniquely happy mood. Although we had won battles and captured loot of gold and precious stones, that just-swallowed-vinegar look on his face never changed. The Barracuda’s smile looked so strange to us because we had never seen it before.

  And so, when we returned to the ship that night loaded with provisions, we were in such good humor as if we were returning from a party. As soon as we boarded, Nuño froze like a block of stone when Barracuda gave him a friendly hug and asked him how his day had been.

  “My . . . My day? How was my day?” Nuño repeated, in shock. “I don’t . . . I don’t understand . . . ”

  “He found an inn all by himself,” Boasnovas whispered to him; but, of course, with just that as a clue, Nuño didn’t understand anything.

  “My good Nuño!” the captain interrupted, giving him a friendly blow to the back. “It’s not yet late, right? Come now, let’s have a long reading lesson!” and he walked toward his quarters in a good mood. On reaching the door, he stopped short and read aloud: “’Cap-tain!’ This is fantastic! They’re everywhere! Letters, I mean! Who would have thought it!”

  The next morning, Barracuda ordered us all on deck and to stand in silence. This happens only when it’s a serious or important situation. We were as quiet as pirates know how to be; but as soon as the captain began to speak, the deck was as silent as a grave.

  “Crew! I will say this just once, and whoever doesn’t follow my orders will wind up on the bottom of the sea! Nobody, I repeat NOBODY, once they step off this ship, will ever say that they know how to read, nor will anyone ever mention Phineas’ book! We won’t have a repeat of what happened on Española or Barbados: reading in front of just anyone, with the book visible to everyone. These are the secrets of the Southern Cross.
I want to hear you each swear it!”

  “But, Captain . . . ,” Boasnovas was the first to reply. “This is very difficult. How does one pretend not to know something . . . that you do know?”

  “Easy, One-Eyed,” Jack responded, “if they ask you, say you don’t know it, and that’s that.”

  “Sure, that’s easy,” Boasnovas answered. “But if they don’t ask you? It’s just, some things are obvious; you can’t hide them away.”

  “But how are people going to know that you can read, you big mackerel?” Erik the Belgian told him, giving him a big slap on the back. “Do you think your face looks more clever now that you can read?”

  “Of course, it’s noticeable!” Boasnovas protested. “It’s noticeable in everything! It’s noticeable that you know things!”

  “Wait,” Jack said. “He’s right. Let me give you an example. If you’re being followed by some men who are trying to rob you, and you see a door that says ’Weapons’ and another that says ’No exit,’ you’ll go through the first door without hesitating and never go through the second!”

  “What kind of men are these who’re following us?” John the Whale asked.

  “What does that have to do with this?” Erik the Belgian complained, looking up into the sky for patience.

  “It’s to know if I can handle them,” the Whale explained. “If it’s just two or three . . . maybe I don’t even need to run.”

  “This is not about that!” Boasnovas yelled at him, growing desperate. “You’re right, it’s noticeable! It’s noticeable if you know how to read!”