The Butcher's Daughter, page 26
I rolled a chart of the Caribbean out across the sand and searched the faces of my brothers. “Well?” I asked.
“We should sail here first,” Hunter said, tapping a string of islands to the south with his finger, islands lying between Madinina and Concepción, the place where we had buried our Aztec gold.
I gave him a puzzled look. “Why, James? There’s nothing there.”
Hunter smiled. “Are you certain?”
“I watched the one-eyed Twin slit poor Billy’s throat after Billy told him where to find the gold. The Twins would never have left the New World without it.”
“The Twins,” Hunter said, “should have slit the boy’s throat after they retrieved the gold, not before. Maybe they found that rock in the middle of the ocean, maybe not. But I didn’t bury the gold all in one place.”
We all stared at Hunter, dumbfounded.
In the morning we broke camp and returned to our ships with haste. Phantom was again my flag ship. The Twins had lavished money on reconditioning her. Waterford’s gifted shipwrights had re-rigged her masts and spars to carry more canvas and reduced her weight by removing most of her forecastle. She was even swifter and more nimble than before. The caravel, which I decided to name the Carib, had proven herself a good sailor. She was rugged and well-built, but she had no heavy guns and she wasn’t the fastest ship. The sloop, the queen’s gift to me, was fast and agile, but she was too small and too old for my purposes and carried no cannon. The men dubbed her La Abuelita, the Old Lady, and that was fine with me. I had over two hundred fighting men. In addition to my Irishmen, twenty fierce Carib warriors, newly recruited by Henry, joined us and I had my twenty steadfast Moors. All the Africans had survived the ambush and each man chose to sail with me again. As for heavy arms, Phantom still carried her eighteen great guns, a mix of falconets and sakers, and I distributed her thirty swivels, which we kept stored below decks, evenly among the ships.
Under clear skies and with a brisk wind coming down from the north, my tiny fleet of three weighed anchor and we headed south for the waters around Madinina and Concepción. Hunter and I had the Phantom, Atwood and Efendi took the Carib and I gave command of La Abuelita to MacGyver. It was an easy sail, though it took some effort to find our island. Two of the four crossed palm trees were missing, swept away by some storm we supposed, perhaps even by the very same huracán we had barely survived after our first visit. We had to sail around in circles for hours before we found our precious island.
With no other sails in sight, we lowered a boat in the water and rowed ashore. Hunter and Atwood started digging underneath the two twisted palms in the middle of the island while the rest of us looked on.
“Are you certain this is the spot?” I asked after they had dug out a pit down to their shoulders.
“Aye, Mary,” Hunter said frustrated, breathing heavily. He stopped digging to wipe the sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “Are you certain this is the right island?”
“As certain, no more and no less, as you, James Hunter.”
“Ah, touché, you make a fair point there my lady. Well, we’re not finished yet. Let’s take a look around. Spread out and look for a green rock, a smooth, round rock that looks a bit like a turtle’s shell.”
We all joined Hunter in his search for his unusual rock. After an hour of staring at grass and sand and common rocks, I thought Henry was going to explode into a thousand pieces when he found a smooth, green rock shaped like a turtle’s shell. He went berserk, jumping up and down, hooting and flapping his arms like a bird. He had found Hunter’s rock buried underneath a foot of sand.
After inspecting Henry’s find Hunter broke into a wide grin. “That’s the one, Henry! Good man, well done!”
Hunter and Atwood grabbed their shovels and started digging anew and before noon we were lifting wooden chests out of the earth. We recovered four chests in all, each one filled to brim with Aztec gold.
“The fuckin’ Twins have taken the rest,” Hunter said. “I’m mystified how those double half-wits found this place with two of the twisted palm trees missing. They must have searched and dug up every one of these little shit islands for days. Well Mary, the Twins may have taken the lion’s share, but this isn’t a bad haul, eh?”
“Ah, I think the phrase “lion’s share” is meant to mean all of something, not a portion,” I answered teasingly.
“Beg pardon?”
“In Aesop’s story the lion claimed the whole kill for itself as I recall, not a portion.”
“Who’s Aesop?” Hunter asked with a bewildered look. “And what lion?”
“Never you mind, James Hunter,” I said and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “This is quite a find, my compliments to your cunning, sir - well done!”
“This is,” Atwood said, reaching down to run his fingers over the bars of gold, “indeed a king’s ransom. I remember now you stayed behind on this spec of sand after you sent the rest of us back. I supposed you had taken a nap after you drew your map. What possessed you James to bury these four chests apart from all the others?”
“A nap? Come now, Jacob, you can speak plainly. We are now kin after all.”
“Ahem, well, truth be told brother James - only for a fleeting moment mind you - the thought of some skullduggery crossed my mind. But you returned to the ship empty-handed. I took the liberty of searching your boat.”
“Ha! Ha! Excellent! I respect you for doing so! Damned if I know why I buried this stash away from the rest, Jacob. I did it on a whim. I suppose the thought of being double-crossed crossed my mind. Not all of our men are loyal.”
The big Scotsman laughed and turned to look at me. “Well damned lucky for us you did! I don’t think Hunter would trust his own mum, Mary - if in fact he ever had a mum. Not this man of many secrets and mysterious origins.”
“Atwood,” Hunter replied evenly, “you betray your own envy. I hear you Scots prefer the tender affections of sheep over those of a woman. Tell us now, what sheep gave birth to you?”
“Such outrageous slander!” Atwood exclaimed with false indignation. “As I point of honor I should dispatch you in a duel here and now. This shovel would do the trick. I did not know my father but, as you can plainly see from my strength and beauty, he must have been a god, leastwise a demi-god.”
“What say you, Mustafa?” I asked when I saw the Turk crack one of his rare smiles.
Efendi cocked his head to one side before he answered. “I’ve always thought you island folk a strange and hostile people!”
“I must agree with you there, Mustafa,” I said and laughed. “Well then, we have unfinished business to attend to. Shall we, gentlemen?”
We had gotten no further in our plan while sitting around the campfires in Guadeloupe than planning to find our treasure. But I swore to my benefactor, the Queen of England, I would cause her enemies some woe if I chose to roam across the great oceans again. I knew where I had to start and gave the order to set a course for Old Havana on the island of Cuba. But before we left our treasure island behind, I had the men pull the ships in close and tie them off together, Abuelita to Phantom’s starboard and Carib to her port, and then I called all hands on deck.
Under a sky of royal blue, with our three ships rocking lazily back and forth on soft ripples of shimmering green, I leaned over the quarter deck’s fore rail and peered down on all my men. I cleared my throat and smiled. “Lads, as you know, after the Twins served me up to the English, her Majesty the Queen took pity on me. She granted me a royal pardon for my past transgressions and then she released me on this sole condition: if I chose to return to my life at sea again, I had to swear my allegiance to her. I had to promise to never take up arms against England while she reigns. You now have that same choice to make. A royal pardon for your loyalty and you can continue sailing with me, or we can part ways here and now. The queen has given me a commission, a letter of marque, to engage and destroy her enemies. We have her leave to raid the Spanish Main. Our smuggling days, for now at least, are over. But for those who wish to join me, our days as privateers have just begun. For any who wish to pursue other interests, I’ll give you the sloop to do with her as you wish. No hard feelings if that is your choice. You are all free men.”
I glanced over at Hunter and nodded. “Captain Hunter, you are my senior officer now. You are the first in line. I will begin with you. Will you swear your allegiance to the Queen of England and turn privateer with me? If not, I shall pay you your fair share of the gold and do the same for any man here who wishes to join you.”
“Join you as a privateer you say, Madam?” Hunter asked.
“Aye.”
“Well now, there’s hardly a choice to be made there. But I know not this Queen of England you speak of. She never once showed me any favor or even offered me a kind word. She never put a coin in my pocket or put food on my table. I’ll swear my allegiance gladly, but my allegiance, always, is to you, Lady Mary.”
I am certain I gave Hunter a most disapproving look. Those were not the words I wished to hear. And well he knew it too as I could plainly see when he offered me an impish smile and folded his arms defiantly.
“If we prey on Spanish ships in these waters, our allegiance must be to the queen,” I replied sharply.
But Hunter insisted on being difficult. “Again my allegiance is to you, my lady. If your allegiance is to the Queen of England, so be it. In the end is not my unwavering pledge of loyalty to you the same as a pledge of allegiance to the queen? The end result will the same. Where ever you go, I will follow.”
Exasperated, I bit my tongue and nodded. “Oh very well Master Hunter, I’m honored you will join me. Captain Atwood, you are next in the chain of command. What say you?”
“You have my allegiance already, Lady Mary. I am bound to you by the Ten Rules, as are we all. But I will gladly swear my allegiance to you again before all these fine witnesses on this glorious day if it would please you for me to do so.”
Now I had two insolent troublemakers on my hands, toying with me for all my men to see. And so it went down the line. All my men followed Hunter’s cue and swore their allegiance to me. Not one man, not one, had any desire to part ways with me. Of course I was grateful, of course I felt proud.
“What was that about today?” I asked Hunter later after he snuck inside my great cabin.
“Mary, the men believe in you. They are loyal to you, not to some pampered, English princess a world away. It is folly to ask a man to swear an oath to some cause he has no stake in or to a person he does not know. So long as we plunder Spanish ships and wealth, and give the queen her rightful share, I rather doubt her majesty will have any qualms about why or how we do it. I pray you are not too cross with me.”
He slipped an arm around my waist, drew me closer to him and started kissing me on the neck. I should have shown him my displeasure; I should have thrown him out the door. But I was hardly immune from his beguiling ways, or his animal lust. I desired his touch too much.
“I should,” I said, “not encourage future impertinence by rewarding you.”
He began undoing the buttons on my blouse. “I dare say you will not regret encouraging me. Allow me, my lady, to show you the full, hard measure of my, ahem, impertinence.”
I surrendered to his naughtiness. I surrendered to my own yearnings, burning hot and fast. I moaned when his tongue found mine. I cooed softly when he slowly slipped a hand inside my trousers, opening me, tenderly caressing me with his fingers. With unselfish patience, my lover set his mind to indulging my every need, to satisfying my every sensual pleasure.
We made an easy sail across the green Caribbean to Cuba. By mutual agreement of all my officers, we hauled down our yellow-gold banner - with its distinctive red sea serpent emblazoned in the center - and sailed without flags or banners or pennants of any kind. We had no had no desire for recognition. We had no desire for fame or glory. My past arrogance had cost us dearly and so now we slithered across the poisoned sea like shadows on the water. Anonymity was our friend, stealth our stock-in-trade.
We found a deserted cove along Cuba’s southern coast and dropped anchor before sailing on into sleepy, Old Havana. There was no reason not to sail directly into Old Havana except for my own need for a little more time. Old Havana was where Gilley, Green, Fox and Ferguson had all fallen. Gilley had perhaps been near his natural end, but the others had been in their prime. My heart ached for all of them. I assembled my officers in my great cabin. I did not know what to do about Cortés. But Cortés was the sole reason why I was returning to Cuba.
“Thoughts, gentlemen?” I asked. “You all know why we’ve returned to Cuba.”
Atwood was the first to speak. “He betrayed us, Mary. What is there to discuss?”
“He claimed he was coerced,” I answered flatly. “He was desperately trying to protect his family. Perhaps the Twins even tortured him to bend him to their will.”
“Rubbish,” Atwood replied, unmoved. “Did you see any wounds on him when you saw him in the tent?”
“No.”
“And even if what Cortés told you was true, in whole or in part, why did the Captain-General of Santo Domingo send three warships to Old Havana with the Twins?”
“We were,” Efendi offered, “betrayed, double-crossed for the gold.”
“Cortés,” MacGyver interjected, “didn’t know about the gold, Mustafa.”
“No,” said Hunter. “Not at first perhaps. But Billy did.”
I went around the table and refilled each man’s glass with wine. “But I am,” I said in a weary voice, “unclear how Billy got word of the gold to Cortés?”
Hunter shook his head, uncertain. “I’m not sure, Mary. Perhaps Billy told Cortés about the gold when Cortés met us in Trinidad and perhaps Cortés passed that tidbit of information on to the Twins after he returned to Santo Domingo. It is possible the Twins didn’t even know about the gold at first but thought they needed more muscle, more ships, to take us on and cut a deal with the Captain-General for a share of any spoils. Or perhaps they cut their deal with Villeneuve. Who can say? We only know for certain that the Twins sailed into Old Havana with the help of the Spanish to seize our ships, to destroy our operations in the Americas.”
“Why?” Efendi asked. “We paid the Spanish well. Why would the Spanish favor the Twins over us unless the Twins seduced the Spanish with promises of treasure?”
Hunter nodded in agreement. “That is the golden question.”
I sighed. “Gentlemen, I still have doubts about the depth of Cortés’s complicity.”
Atwood persisted in his condemnation. “Mary, Cortés is dirty. No question about it in my mind. He could have said less to the Twins. He could have done more to protect you without endangering his family.”
I stood and rested my hands on Hunter’s shoulder. I had heard enough. “Bring the Spaniard to me - alive,” I commanded in a testy tone and abruptly adjourned our meeting. I could not think of Cortés without thinking of his wife and daughters.
Three days later, in the middle of the night, I walked into a small, abandoned building next to a wharf along the water, into a building that had once been used as a warehouse for the ships that frequented Old Havana long ago. The air inside stunk of rotting wood and putrid water. A good portion of the building’s roof had collapsed. In the middle of the building I saw Cortés sitting in a chair underneath the stars, surrounded by a ring of candles on the floor. He was naked and blindfolded. His hands were tied behind his back. Those had been my instructions.
Following our council or war, Hunter, Atwood and Efendi had purchased horses and ridden on to Cortés’s hacienda in Havana. If Cortés wasn’t there, he would be in Santo Domingo or in the Port of Spain. We would find him. But finding the Spaniard proved easy. My men found Cortés at la Aurora sleeping soundly in his bed. They subdued the Spaniard without a fuss, unawares, and returned him to me alive and unharmed.
Cortés did not know who his abductors were. He looked up when he heard my footsteps. Hunter, Atwood and Efendi followed me inside.
“¿Quién está ahí? Please, who is there?”
“Ah, the little worm can speak,” Atwood said in a muffled voice.
“English? Por favor, Señor, please, please who are you? There is some mistake!”
“The better question,” Hunter asked, disguising his accent, “is who are you?”
“¿Que?”
“Who are you?” Hunter repeated.
“I am Rodriguez Miguel de Cortés y Ovando. I am a respectable citizen, sir. My business is in farming and ranching, in imports and exports.”
“No,” Hunter said. “No, you are not Rodriguez Miguel de Cortés y Ovando. You are a filthy, foul, disgusting little shit, a mierda. You are nothing but a whore who sells himself off to the highest bidder.”
“¿Que?”
“Tell us,” Atwood demanded. “Tell us about the Twins.”
“What?”
Atwood leaned in close, coming nose-to-nose with Cortés. “You play games with me friend and I’ll cut you slow. You’ll curse God for every breath you take once I start.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. What is the Twins?”
“Not what,” Atwood corrected, “who, who are the Twins?”
“I swear, I do not know.”
“Two huge Irishmen, nearly identical brothers,” Hunter interjected. “One wears a patch over his eye.”
“Ah, yes, yes - you must mean Romulus and Remus! Yes?”
“Good God!” Atwood roared and laughed. “You’re joking? Truly, they call themselves Romulus and Remus, after the Roman twins suckled by a she-wolf?”
“¡Sí!” Cortés replied and pissed himself. “Romulus and Remus, the, ah, the Irish giants.”
“You’ve met them?” Atwood asked.
“¡Sí!”
“Which one is Romulus?”
“The brother who wears the eyepatch is Romulus. Remus is the taller one.”
