“It’s a bad business, this man. If the governor were to know what he is doing here—”
I interrupted him again, “Where are the men?”
“The crew, you mean. He’s got them working the salt mine—like slaves, they are.”
“And why not you?”
“Every day he comes and sits by the door, asking questions about the crown’s business. The man’s got ambition, that’s a certainty, but how he’s going about it is against the law.”
I looked at Rhames. “He’s safer here for the time being. We’ll have to hide the guards and make it look like they wandered off on a drunk. If he’s gone, it’ll raise an alarm and I’d rather not have the magistrate find out we were here.”
“Aye. Get out of here as fast as we can, make a plan and take the bastards. I’ll be wanting a piece of his royal highness as well.”
“You can’t leave me here,” Pott whined.
“You’re safer here. Can’t have you getting hurt—I’ve got plans for you.” We walked away, leaving him uncertain of his fate, but alive. Pulling the guards behind us, we made our way back to the skiff and stashed the bodies in the mangroves.
“What of the men?” Rhames asked.
A plan had been forming in my head. “We’ll have to take them by surprise. With no idea of the force here, it’d be a fool’s errand otherwise.”
He agreed and boarded the skiff, rowing silently to the Caiman. When we reached her, I ordered all the lights extinguished and the anchor raised. Under the mainsail, we slipped from the harbor. Once I was certain we were out of sight of the town, we lit a lantern and gathered around the chart.
“With the dammed reef, the only place to land men is the town,” Mason said.
I studied the chart. “The north is out after our run-in with the treasure hunters there. We go here.” I pointed to a cove on the south shore.
“The reef’ll take us there for sure,” Mason said.
“We’ll have to anchor off the coast and shuttle the men across.”
“That’ll take all day,” Rhames said.
“It might.” I knew it would be a long and backbreaking task to transport twenty or so men across the reef, then navigate the large bay and land them safely. “It’ll take five loads, if I’ve got my math correct. The first’ll be the scouts. Blue and several men can go ashore and find our crew. When we’re all ashore, they can lead us to them.”
“Aye, we’ll take the bastards at night,” Rhames said.
Swift and Red nodded behind him and we began to plan the action.
I left Mason, Shayla, Lucy, Pierre and four of the freedmen on the ship. It had taken most of the day to shuttle the men and arms. I looked up at Shayla as the last skiff pulled away.
“Bring my father back,” she called over the rail.
I turned my attention to the reef and called out direction to the men on the oars. We found a slot in the corral and were into the bay. After a half hour, we changed positions and I took my turn on the oars. It was hard work with the tide and current, but we soon landed on the beach.
“Where’s Rhames?” I asked and jumped from the skiff.
“They’ve moved out already. He says to follow,” Red said.
I was upset by his impatience and we set out over the saltpan, following the footsteps of the men that had gone before us. There was no trail and we were exposed, but the only onlookers were the hundreds of flamingos pecking at the dried salt.
We came upon the camp suddenly and dropped to the ground. The flat seemed to glow in the moonlight and I could clearly see rows of tents. Rhames came beside me. “Sentries?” I asked.
“A handful. We’ll take them easily.”
“No guns,” I said to his dismay. “I’ve got a plan for after.”
He grinned. “And what would that be?”
“The magistrate will get his due,” I said and left it at that. “When you’re ready, take the guards and I’ll free the men. Get Red and Swift to get them back to the Caiman and tell Mason to sail her into the harbor at noon.”
“And what of us?”
“We’ll take care of the magistrate.” He wanted more details, but my plan was a little short in that area. “Go.”
I watched from a small rise, trying to stay concealed with the little cover available. Rhames led a party to the only structure in the camp. The men quickly surrounded it and a few minutes later I saw the guards come out holding their hands high over their heads. Rhames had them secured and soon our men were moving toward us. They looked worse for the wear, their faces drawn and bodies caked with salt, and I swore the magistrate would pay for their abuse.
I waited until the column of men was well across the flat, my anger rising as several stumbled from exhaustion or abuse. We watched until they crossed over the last rise.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
As in most Caribbean outposts, you could tell the time by the attitude of the people on the street. From the raucous behavior and the crowd in front of the pub, I expected it was late afternoon. I smiled. Having the majority of the town drunk or on their way there would make our plan simpler. We crept behind the row of buildings across the street from the pub and waited. Even from this distance we could hear the crowd, and a particularly loud voice yelled something, followed by a roar of laughter.
Using the buildings for cover, we moved to the jail. Only one man sat in front of the jail, his head bobbing in the afternoon heat, and I suspected the concealment of the bodies of the other guards had worked. Rhames crept up behind him and extended his nap with a blow to the head. He fell over and I grabbed the keys from his belt.
A blast of hot air carrying the stench of unwashed men greeted us when I opened the door. I found Pott laid out on a wooden pallet. He was barely conscious. His clothes were torn and I could see dried blood and bruises marring his face.
“Pott,” I called, trying every key in the lock. With only two left, the door opened and I entered. I shook him and saw his eyes open slightly.
“Captain,” he croaked.
“Can you walk?”
He swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and slowly got to his feet. “Yes.”
“Let’s go, then,” I said, and led him into the daylight. Rhames and Blue remained in position until we were out of sight across the street.
“Would you look at that,” Rhames spat when he joined us. “Bloody magistrate do that to ya?” he asked.
Pott ignored him. “They’re all in the pub.”
“We still have surprise with us, then,” I said.
“Seems Saturday afternoons the magistrate orders a gambling contest. Every week, he’ll pick someone and take their money,” Pott said.
That explained the atmosphere at the pub. “Let’s go,” I said to Rhames and Blue. “Put the bastard out of business.”
“You sure you want to meddle in the local politics?” Rhames asked. “We find where he stashed our treasure and get out of here before they sober up. The men are free and you’ve got the crown’s lackey back.”
“We need a friendly port.” I tried to keep the frustration from my voice. “Pott here has the qualifications. Let’s give the magistrate what he deserves and install Pott in his place.”
“So, you’re meddling in King Georgie’s business? How do you expect that’s going to end?”
“Very well, if we play this right,” I answered and walked toward the pub. I dared not look behind me to see if they were following, but thought I heard the crunch of crushed coral beneath their boots.
We reached the pub and I pushed my way through the door with a swagger that I wasn’t sure I could back up without Rhames behind me. The magistrate was on his knees by the far wall, a large group around him. I stood in a dark corner and watched, wanting to gauge the temper of the room before acting.
Rhames came next to me with a glass in his hand. “Throat’s a bit dry,” he said. “Blue’s watching over the weasel outside.”
I felt better with him at my side. A loud che
er came up from the crowd and I saw the magistrate rise to his feet and accept a wad of money from his victim. I slid further into the shadows and bumped someone.
“Best watch where you’re stepping,” he said. The man had a defeated look about him.
“Sorry. Can we buy you a drink?” He nodded and I asked Rhames to get a glass.
“Bastard’s taken my pay again,” he said.
“You mean the magistrate?” I asked.
“He lines us up every Saturday after pay call and choses a few men to play. There’s no escaping his wrath if you don’t abide him. And if you’re lucky enough not to get chosen you’d better cheer for him or you’re likely to be next.”
“How does he win all the time?” I asked and caught a look from Rhames that showed my naivety. He handed the man a glass and we waited while he drained it.
“You there!” someone yelled.
I looked around the room and saw the crowd part, leaving a clear path between the magistrate and me. There was nowhere to hide.
“You’re the captain of those ships.” He waddled toward me, obviously drunk.
I knew from experience how dangerous drunks could be and played him carefully. “We came looking for you to honor our agreement,” I said, trying to defuse the situation.
“Our agreement, you say.” He grabbed a glass from a man nearby and drank the amber liquid in one swallow. “Our agreement was for you to make me rich!”
Laughter came from the crowd, but it sounded forced. “We’ve had little luck,” I said.
“That may be the case, but you’ve a load of treasure in your holds.”
The crowd was getting nervous now and moved backwards, leaving us alone in the center of the room. I couldn’t blame Pott for talking after seeing the torture inflicted on him, but I had a problem now.
He moved toward me and I could smell the rum on his breath. “And I’ve claimed it for the crown.”
I had to make a stand or I would find myself with a rope around my neck. “For the crown or for yourself?”
The crowd murmured and he looked around for support. His hand went to his belt, but Rhames was by his side. “Maybe the two of you should settle this like men,” he said.
“Who …” the magistrate started, but was drowned out by the roar of the crowd.
I was getting uneasy about this, not being a gambler myself and knowing Rhames’s tendency toward losing. “What are you doing?” I whispered to him.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got your back,” he said and cleared a path to the wall.
The group gathered tightly around us and I started to panic.
“We’ll let the captain play first, then,” Rhames said. The crowd cheered and he grabbed the dice from the magistrate’s hand.
The crowd cheered and Rhames handed me the dice. “Just throw them—they’re fixed.”
“But …” I was suffocated by the crowd, moving closer now, anxious to see the magistrate’s dice that had taken their money played against him. I rolled the two cubes in my hand and readied to throw when I felt the knife against my ribs.
“Not so fast.”
The magistrate’s blade pierced my shirt. Rhames and the other men were too busy waiting for me to roll the dice to see what was happening.
“Me and the young captain here are going outside to have a private conversation,” he said, pushing me in front of him toward the door. I had no illusions about what this talk would consist of and looked behind me, hoping Rhames could intervene, but he was lost in the crowd.
I knew I was on my own. Although not a fighter by nature, I had drilled in hand-to-hand combat with the rest of Gasparilla’s crew. Counting on the magistrate’s drunkenness to play to my advantage, I stopped at the threshold and looked back. In the instant the magistrate followed my gaze, I jammed my elbow into his stomach and spun around. I went for his knife arm and grabbed the elbow in an attempt to twist it behind his head, but before I could execute the move, he roared and grabbed me in a bear hug. I could feel the tip of the knife start to dig into my stomach.
Just as the blade pieced my skin I lifted my foot and slammed the heel of my boot into his knee. He fell backward and I turned on him, but Rhames had made his way through the crowd and stood over the fallen man, his boot on his chest. I stood back, trying to catch my breath, and heard the crowd, their bloodlust high, seeing their enemy in dire straits. They were pressing closer and I could tell they were about to take the situation into their own hands.
A shot fired. Everyone stopped and looked around, their eyes finally focusing on Blue, who stood in the doorway grinning with a pistol in each hand.
The crowd moved backward as Blue entered the room. Rhames went to him and took the pistols, waving one at the crowd and the other on the magistrate. “You’ll listen to the captain, then.”
The room was quiet now and I moved to a clear space and stood on a chair. “Killing this man will bring you no relief. The governor will find out and, before he knows the facts, will send troops.” I had their attention now. “I have a man that is educated in these matters, that can take charge.” I pointed to the magistrate. “Let the crown’s justice take care of him. How many of you has he stolen from or abused?” Men nodded and several spoke out. “How many?” I repeated, louder this time. More men chimed in and soon there was a chorus in the room.
I waited for them to quiet. “Let all of you testify and he will get the justice he deserves.” A roar came from the crowd and several men came forward, taking the magistrate between them. They dragged him to his feet and pulled him out of the pub. The crowd moved outside, following behind the men as they paraded him to the jail.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I could tell Pott was uneasy standing next to me in front of the jail. The magistrate was incarcerated and I meant to assign his replacement before the mood of the crowd changed. Aside from being my man, he was certainly qualified for the position after his years of service under the governor of the Caymans. He knew the political machinations of the British government and was familiar with the governor of the Bahamas. Along with the testimony of the town, he would add his own, surely incriminating the magistrate.
The crowd went their own ways, with only a few hangers-on, wanting to be the first to lobby Pott for favor. They followed behind us as we walked to the magistrate’s house.
“This is it, then,” I said to him as we stood outside the door.
“I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me,” he said.
“Don’t worry about that, there will come a time, Magistrate Pott.” We said our goodbyes. I promised to return in a few days and let him know the status of our search. Although the crew might not like it, I meant to honor my agreement with the previous magistrate and pay over part of the treasure to the government. At least I knew with Pott, it would go where it was intended and solidify his position.
It was dark when we reached the Caiman, now anchored in the harbor. Shayla was sitting with Phillip by the rail, watching the residents celebrate the fall of the magistrate. I stayed with them for a while.
“I’m off to bed,” I said, expecting her to join me.
“I think I’ll spend some time with my father,” she said.
I could hear the celebration from my bunk. Tossing and turning, I found no rest until Shayla joined me.
The morning was much like yesterday and I feared we would have to face several squalls. We left Mason with the Panther to resume the work on her. Rhames had been up early and had enlisted the help of several fishing boats to return our treasure to her hold. Later than I would have liked, we set off in the Caiman for the cove on the small island. I spent most of the trip going through the dive gear, cleaning and oiling the fittings and hoses.
We arrived without incident and anchored outside the cove. I checked the skies and saw no threat of weather, but I pressed the crew to ready the skiff and gear. The sooner we recovered whatever was here and were on our way, the better. I paced the deck impatiently, waiting for the
tide to turn, allowing us to cross the reef and enter the cove.
Shayla accompanied us. Her previous underwater exploits had spread through the crew and I thought if we did recover the treasure this might be the way to get her the share she deserved. With Swift, Blue and two other crewmen on the oars, it was a tight fit with the gear, and I worried about making it over the reef with this much weight. Fortunately it was almost the same time as yesterday, and with the high tide we able to skirt the coral.
I surveyed the cave from the skiff and decided it would be better to set up the pump on land. Two crewmen who had helped me recover the ballast from the wreck in the Caymans were assigned to set up and monitor the equipment. After a few minutes of fiddling with the valves, they gave me the thumbs-up. I donned the leather helmet and adjusted the glass plate. I felt the now-familiar whoosh of fresh air enter the headgear and returned the signal, then entered the water.
The weights attached to my waist brought me to the bottom faster than I expected and I had to take a few minutes to allow the pressure in my ears to subside. As I stood on the sandy bottom adjusting to the depth, I watched small fish peck at the sharp coral walls that extended down from the exposed rocks above.
I walked on the sandy bottom toward the cave’s entrance and, once inside, waited for my eyes to acclimate to the darkness. Barley able to see the walls around me, I slid my feet forward in the direction of the hole. The bottom dropped off and I went to my knees before sliding my body backwards into the recess, stopping when my feet landed on wood. The hole was narrow here and I had to fight with the gear and hoses to turn myself facedown. On my belly, I slid down to the chests. I could feel the wood, but it was too dark to see anything.
Something swam by my head and, when I tried to see what it was, my headgear jammed in a recess in the wall. I struggled with the awkward equipment, fighting for breath. Finally, by twisting my head and upper body, I was able to free myself, but not before tearing the air hose from the headgear. Bubbles surrounded me as the men above continued to pump, not knowing my distress. I reached for the end of the flailing hose, grabbed it and fought blindly to find the grommet where it had come from. Finally, almost out of breath, I found the hole and inserted the hose. I sat on the bottom, trying to even out my breath and slow my racing mind. The tight space and darkness were more difficult than I anticipated.
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