The Butcher's Daughter, page 25
“No, I haven’t forgotten,” I said and reached across the table to squeeze Atwood’s hand. “Thank you, Jacob.”
“Good, we’re with you whatever your plan might be Mary. But I pray your plan includes running down those dogs who call themselves the Twins and snuffing out their lives.”
“One Twin may be dead already,” I offered. “Hunter ran him through the chest and when last I saw him he was nearly dead. But aye, the Twins are prominent in my thoughts. There will be a reckoning, I swear it.”
Efendi whipped out his knife and let it fly across the table, hitting the cabin door dead-center. “I am with you always, Mary. Allah rewards those who forgive. But the Quran also teaches that the recompense for an evil is an evil like thereof. We owe the Twins a pain or two and I will hone my skills for the day we catch them crawling out from whatever filthy lair they hide in.”
Hunter reached under his chair and produced a swatch of yellow-gold cloth folded neatly into a triangle. “If you accept this gift, my lady,” he said while spreading the material out across the table. “Then I too am yours to command.”
I stared at Hunter’s gift with mixed feelings of joy and sorrow. His gift was an ensign of yellow-gold with a red sea serpent emblazoned in the center, a coiled serpent poised to strike, the same serpent the one-eyed Twin had burned deep into my flesh.
I nodded. “Aye, your terms are satisfactory James. I embrace this mark as my own, as my coat-of-arms. This flag shall be our victory banner.”
“Excellent!” Hunter said with a grand smile. “Have you a plan, Mary?”
“We gather as many of our men as we can in Westport and then we sail on to Waterford.”
Hunter’s smile instantly vanished. “Mary, please. You aren’t thinking of attacking the Twins in their own stronghold?”
“Have you lost your senses Hunter?” I asked teasingly and scoffed. “Ha! Attack the Twins where they are strongest? God forbid! But there is something that belongs to me in Waterford and I shall have it back.”
“Why not ignore whatever has caught your fancy in Ireland?” Atwood asked softly. “If the English catch you thieving again they’ll hang you or lop off your head for certain. Perhaps it is best if we simply leave the Old World behind us - quietly - without risking any more trouble?”
“What we do in Waterford, gentlemen, we do with the queen’s good blessing,” I said and removed the letter of marque from my coat pocket. I unrolled the parchment over Hunter’s yellow-gold ensign.
“English privateers, eh?” Atwood asked, absently scratching the stubble on his chin as he perused the commission.
“Aye,” I replied. “There’s a storm coming to the New World, a great and terrible storm of ships and guns and men. We saw this storm brewing with our own eyes. The French, the Dutch and the English, are all envious of Spanish wealth and power. Even the Germans and one or more of the Italian kingdoms have made claims in the New World. Only God knows who will prevail in the end. But fate has chosen the side I now fight for. The queen granted me a royal pardon on the condition I never take up arms against her or oppose her interests. I agreed to her majesty’s terms. I gave her my solemn pledge and I will honor that pledge and so my allegiance must be with the English. But you gentlemen are free to choose as you like, to go your own way. The Ten Rules do not address this extraordinary circumstance and hence none of you are bound by the Ten Rules now. I release you from your oaths.”
“As I said, we are with you, Mary,” Atwood repeated. “We are all staunchly with you. But I don’t know how the lads will take to sailing for the queen as English privateers.”
Hunter grunted and rolled his eyes.
“Whatever flag flies off our mizzen gaff,” I said, “is of little consequence. We sail for ourselves. And the queen assured me that we would never be asked to fight against our own. Her majesty’s natural enemies are Spain, Portugal and France.”
Hunter picked the letter of marque up and chuckled. “Stealing from the Spanish, the Portuguese or the French I doubt will offend any of our lads.”
Chapter Twelve
Time to go I told myself and took a long, deep breath. I had over one hundred men-at-arms with me, men we had rounded up in County Mayo after sailing from England to Westport. Most were tough and seasoned sailors, battle-harden veterans, men who had sailed with me in the New World or back in the old days when we were free spirits, crisscrossing the Irish Sea with impunity.
Phantom, renamed Mary’s Folly some had heard, had been removed from a floating dry dock earlier in the day and was sitting peacefully at anchor out in the middle of Waterford’s bay. The streets of the city were quiet. The sky was clear and studded with all the brilliant stars in heaven. Not the best of nights for lurking about on the water, but not the worst of nights either. I could see my breath in the crisp, cold air as I gently worked the longboat’s tiller. My men rowed quietly, pulling at their muffled oars towards our target with even, measured strokes. We moved across the bay like swans silently gliding across a still pond with barely ripple made. We saw no sign of Medusa’s Head and I was grateful because we could never hope to take that ghastly brute on without a lot more men.
I had twenty lads with me in one boat and Hunter had another twenty more with him in the other. Atwood stayed behind with the sloop and our reinforcements.
We raised our oars and quietly coasted up alongside the Phantom unnoticed. Efendi was the first to spring into action. He shimmied up the anchor cable, carefully eased himself over the rail and disappeared. A moment later we heard a soft groan and then a dull thump, followed by another and then another and we knew Efendi’s sharp knives had done their deadly work. It is well for men to fear the night with supernatural creatures like Efendi lurking in the shadows. With the ship’s watch of three down, Efendi dropped a half dozen lines over the side and waved us up.
I kept ten men with me on deck while Hunter took the rest and went below to round up any stragglers. My squad moved with purpose, raising spars and unfurling sail and to save time we cut the anchor cable. I grimaced at losing that anchor. A new one would cost me a pretty penny later. It is odd the things we think about sometimes.
After I gave the signal, Atwood eased the sloop in close, just in case my plan went awry and we needed extra muscle - or if everything went truly wrong and we needed to escape. But our first venture into lawful piracy and murder was rolling along smoothly. We quickly had Phantom secured and underway.
I took the tiller in my hands and pointed the ship’s nose east, towards the open sea. Nothing, or so I told myself, could stop us now.
Hunter bolted up the companionway wearing a victory smile. “Found twenty souls below Mary, all sleeping soundly in their hammocks. We bound and gagged each one without much fuss.”
I nodded and let out a sigh of relief. We truly were going to make it.
“Any provisions on board, James?”
“Not enough to get us to the West Indies.”
“Well then, we have some hunting to do - Master Hunter.”
Hunter laughed and went aloft, climbing all the way to the crow’s nest to have a look around. When he reached the top, I watched him attach an ensign, my battle flag, to the masthead. The yellow-gold banner, with a red sea serpent poised to strike emblazoned in the center, unwrapped itself and fluttered freely in the light breeze. I must confess I felt a twinge of pride. I slipped my hand inside my blouse and touched the hideous scar over my left breast. My thoughts turned to that awful day an ocean away and to those I’d lost. I could feel the tears pooling around my eyes. But the sorrow didn’t last. Neither did the pride. I needed to focus on the task at hand dispassionately, unburdened by any emotion. Yes, the coiled, red serpent was now mine and I had retaken Phantom - but I would not be content until I had taken much, much more.
And then - no warning - there was a terrific BOOM off our starboard bow, followed seconds later by a number of smaller explosions and then popping sounds. I flinched. We all flinched. My first thought was that somehow we had been found and that all was lost. I snapped my head around just in time to see a small storehouse on the docks vanish in a ball of smoke and flame. Debris went flying everywhere. Bits and pieces of wood, metal, glass and stone peppered the water all around us.
I looked up at the masthead and caught Hunter grinning down at me like some puerile, schoolboy prankster. Before we had launched our assault on the Phantom, Hunter had disappeared for a time with a longboat and ten men, rowing for the docks. For what purpose he had refused to say.
“Good God, Hunter what have you done?”
He cupped his hands around his mouth to answer. “Why nothing, Mary,” he shouted down to me. “Some fool must have been careless in storing his gunpowder in that shack. I love a good explosion - don’t you? Look, Mary, look! Rockets are shooting off! How splendid! Waterford is sending us off with fireworks, she is sending us off in style. What a grand victory celebration this is, all in your honor!”
As I watched the red and white rockets lighting-up the night sky all around us, I was stricken with the giggles. The send-off was indeed grand. It felt good, so very, very good to laugh again.
Once we reached the open sea, we shortened sail and Atwood transferred most of his crew over to me using the longboats we had in tow. Phantom would need men to work her great guns for what I had in mind next. Then we headed north to prowl around the Irish Sea, to look for ships belonging to the Twins.
Phantom was mine again. But now we needed money to provision her. With a single shot across the bow, we snagged five meager vessels in rapid succession and one real beauty, a three hundred ton caravel with graceful lines. One ship was English and we let her go. Another vessel was hauling legal cargo out of Dublin and we let her go. The other four, including the caravel, belonged to the Twins or to rival clans and were loaded down with smuggled goods. We kept this plunder for ourselves. Our prisoners talked freely and we learned that the taller Twin, the one Hunter had run through the chest in Guadeloupe, had recovered from his wounds and was still very much alive. I was almost glad to hear it. I wanted the pleasure of finishing him off for myself.
The Twins would discover that they were missing several ships soon enough, including the powerful Phantom, and we dared not linger in hostile waters for very long. We had to work fast. So we laid on the canvas and took our prizes, top speed, on to Liverpool in the midst of a driving snowstorm. We pushed the vessels hard. After we reached the English port, I kept the handsome caravel for myself but sold the other three ships and their cargoes off cheaply. We used the proceeds to buy provisions for our voyage back across the barren sea, for our new expedition back to the New World.
But before we set our sails to leave England behind, I gathered our prisoners on the wharf with snow flurries whipping all around us. I scrutinized the face of each man, looking for anyone familiar from that night of bloody slaughter in Guadeloupe. I recognized no one.
“You may all live or you may all die this day,” I told them as I shivered against the cold. Not even my heavy coat and scarf could keep me warm. “I wish to know if any of you were with the Twins in the New World. I have a few questions, questions easily answered.”
No one uttered a sound.
“Very well, I’ll have the swivels loaded with grapeshot and I’ll splatter your guts all across this wharf. Grapeshot is an ugly way to die.”
“We’re merchant sailors, not soldiers,” a faceless voice cried out.
“None of us have been to the New World,” another man added.
“No? Tell me this at least: how many ships did the Twins take with them to the New World?”
“Four, they took four ships,” a third man offered. And then a fourth man readily agreed and soon there were a number of heads bobbing up and down, nodding in agreement.
I decided these men had no reason to lie about how many ships the Twins had taken with them to the New World. I placed my hands on my hips. “You tell those two pillicocks when you see them next, those twin pigs you call your masters, tell them Bloody Mary has risen from the dead.”
I leaned close to Atwood’s ear. “Jacob, the Twins indeed had four ships when they attacked us in Guadeloupe. How many ships did you say attacked you in Old Havana?”
“Seven, Mary. So the Twins must have had help from our Spanish friends. But we paid the Spanish plenty. Why, I wonder?”
“I wonder why myself.”
“Do you recognize any of these men?”
“No, Mary.”
The snow changed to sleet, into a thick, heavy slush, as my men and I boarded our ships. The gooey mixture clung to the rails, to the masts and rigging. Within minutes our ships were magically transformed into delicate crystal, into lovely ornaments floating on the water. No one would follow us out to sea in such weather.
We left our bewildered prisoners stranded on the wharf along England’s cold and dreary shores. They looked like icicles. But just before my men cast off the mooring lines, I went to the aftercastle where there was a wooden placard nailed into a beam just below the fore rail. Chiseled across the placard in counter-relief was the simple inscription Mary’s Folly in gold lettering.
I took my knife and pried the placard off, went to the rail and tossed the wood over to the crowd of men huddled on the wharf. “A parting gift,” I told them. “Something to remember me by. And I shall well remember you. I’ve marked each of your faces well. You can all keep your lives today but, if I catch you with the Twins tomorrow, well, I wouldn’t count on God for any mercy…”
Our journey across the broad Atlantic was quick and uneventful. We glided into Guadeloupe’s quiet bay and dropped anchor near the shore. A crowd of several hundred men, women and children assembled along the beach, curious to see who we were. Most were Carib, but we saw a number of white and black faces mixed in.
I sat at the bow of the lead boat as my men dipped their oars in the water and pulled. I recognized MacGyver first, waving wildly at me. And standing next to MacGyver I saw Henry beating his bare chest - newly tattooed with a sword crossed over a battle axe - and yelling up at the sky, beside himself with joy. I was thrilled to see them both.
MacGyver was the first to rush out into the surf to help me step off the longboat. “Mary! My God, I can’t believe my eyes! You’re alive! You’re alive! And you’ve come back for us!”
“Michael, it warms my heart to see you well,” I said as we waded through the knee-high surf together locked arm-in-arm.
Then Henry rushed over and surprised me when he wrapped his arms around my waist and embraced me warmly. He knelt before me, took my hands and kissed them both.
“My goodness, Henry! ‘Tis good to see you too!”
“Lady Mary, Lady, Mary, welcome home!” he said. And when he stood he broke into a huge smile, flaunting his new teeth for me. He had filed his front teeth down into sharp points and I wondered if the rumors about the Carib were true. Some say they are cannibals. No matter. Yes, I thought, I am home.
“It is good to be back, Henry. Why the tattoos?”
“Paka Wokili has no sons. When he returns to the sky, I will be chief. He has said. His word is law.”
“Oh? Congratulations my liege. You are now Prince Henry! Chief Paka Wokili, will he agree to see me?”
“Oh, yes, yes, Mum. I am sure, I am sure.”
“Good. I must try to make amends with our great friend and host.”
“Amends? What is amends?”
“Peace.”
And then the rest of my men, marooned on Guadeloupe for long months, Irishmen and Moors, surrounded me. They took turns shaking my hand or embracing me and more than one tough-nosed mariner broke down and wept.
“How many are we?” I finally asked the crowd.
“We are forty-two strong, Mary,” MacGyver answered. “We buried thirty-one of ours and eleven Carib after the ambush. The rest of our lads set out on the ocean in war canoes after James left. We haven’t seen any of them since.”
“Let’s hope,” Hunter said as he and his crew dragged their longboat up on the beach, “they were as lucky as me finding a way home.”
And then Chief Paka Wokili, wearing his resplendent headdress and not a stitch of clothing more, emerged from the jungle with his royal retinue in tow wielding his long spear. I raced over to him, fell to my knees and wept before him.
“Please, Henry,” I said. “Tell the chief I beg his forgiveness for bringing death and violence to his island.”
After Henry finished translating my words, the chief gently laid his hand upon my head and spoke to me in a soft and soothing voice. “Lady Mary,” Henry said. “Chief Paka Wokili says take strength from your anger. Then you must sit on your enemy, um, no, no, you must step, aye, you must step on your enemy. You must step on his throat and pull out his heart.”
I looked up at Chief Paka Wokili and narrowed my eyes. “The day will come,” I promised, “when I will cut off his pig head. He will roam the underworld without it. This I swear to you in blood my great Chief.”
The chief nodded his satisfaction. He whispered something in Henry’s ear, lifted me to my feet and embraced me.
“Lady Mary, Chief Paka Wokili makes honor of you. Today and forever more you his daughter.”
Now I was the daughter of a king in the New World and the sister of a queen in the old one. I took the chief’s hands and kissed them to thank him.
We pitched our tents along the narrow shore and set up camp among the swaying palms. I wasn’t concerned about the Twins, not yet. Even if they had a mind to follow us, which I doubted they would do with any haste as they knew I would be waiting, we had a two or three week head-start on them at least. We prepared a wonderful feast on the beach. We built large bonfires and slaughtered pigs and sheep. We ate and drank to excess and exchanged our stories in turn with care. We offered-up our prayers to our fallen comrades too and wept until we could weep no more. And after we had had our fill of good food and mellow wine, after we had let our grief run dry, I gathered my officers around me. Hunter, Atwood, Efendi and MacGyver all plopped themselves down next to me and we held a council of war. We needed a plan.
