The Butcher's Daughter, page 28
“A prudent order, my good Captain.”
“So, we take Cortés to Santo Domingo, he pays us the money he owes us and he pays us damages too and then we try to snag Villanueva while we’re there. And then, well, I’m a bit fuzzy on what follows next?”
I laughed. “I know not. I thought you might have some clue?”
Hunter didn’t return my laugh. “Mary, we’ve been extraordinarily lucky so far. But we’re beset by enemies on all sides. Our lives will be cut very short indeed if we meander about these waters aimlessly for too long.”
It began to mist and then the drizzle came. A cold and biting rain soon displaced the drizzle. I leaned my head against Hunter’s shoulder and wrapped my arm around his waist as he continued working the tiller.
“Let us suppose,” I said, “we were free to go anywhere we desired. Where would we sail to my love?”
Hunter kissed my hair. “To the north, I think. Great tracks of land lie to the north of New Spain and Florida.”
“And do what? What would be our plan?”
“Build homes, cut timber, plant crops, farm our own land. Establish a settlement and live in peace, live far away from any kings or queens and the games they like to play.”
“That is a pleasant fiction, my dearest.”
Hunter sighed. “Aye, I suppose, I suppose it is.”
We exchanged puzzled looks when we heard a commotion down on the main deck. When I went to the fore rail to see what all the fuss was about I saw Henry with his Carib brothers, nineteen in all, dressed in rugged, Europa clothing.
Henry had the Caribs drawn up in two neat, parallel lines with one line facing the other. Each man held a sword in his hand and Henry was teaching them how to fight. He saw me and smiled and then resumed drilling his raw recruits. Henry was no less a warrior now than any Irishman on board. The Carib were renowned for their bravery and ferocity in battle, but my Caribs needed to master Old World ways. Henry understood. He knew that whatever plan eventually inspired me, there would be blood.
We landed at night along a secluded stretch of beach some three miles west of Santo Domingo’s harbor to return Cortés to his home. I left the fleet in MacGyver’s care with orders to sail on to Guadeloupe if any trouble found us. I took Hunter, Atwood and Efendi with me and we walked with Cortés straight into the jungle with torches in hand. We headed north and continued walking until we stumbled upon the path cut by the ternado, the ternado spawned from the awful huracán those many months ago, and then we turned east. That path I knew would lead us straight into the city. When we emerged from the jungle an hour later we found the streets of Santo Domingo dark and empty.
“I will take,” I told Cortés as we approached his house, “only what you owe me, money for my lost cargo, money for my ships and restitution for the widows of our poor dead plus a little extra for interest because your payment to me is late. I will collect the rest - as reparations - from Romulus and Remus when next I see them. Do not try and cheat me - or I will take everything you have.”
“No, no, I will not.”
“Oh? And why will you not?”
“Because, Lady Mary,” Cortés answered, instinctively grabbing his hand missing a small finger, “the Twins have no scruples. They are cruel. But you are clever.”
“So?”
“I fear you more than the Twins.”
“Why?”
“I can take my family away from Spain. We can flee and hide from the Twins. I am confident of this. I have good contacts in many countries. But I am less confident we can hide from you, not for very long.”
And I knew Cortés was telling me the truth. He understood his lesson.
Cortés gave us two chests of Spanish gold reales and three larger ones of silver along with a thick wad of bank notes for the rest, notes issued by his Spanish bankers. Hunter and Atwood protested loudly when they saw the notes. Neither man trusted paper. I too was unsure. But Efendi urged us to reconsider. Such negotiable paper he said, if authentic, was as good as gold or silver and paper was easier to transport, easier to hide. After inspecting the notes carefully against the candlelight, Efendi pronounced them genuine. Hunter and Atwood still shook their heads in doubt.
Then Efendi surprised us all with his knowledge of banking. Two rich and powerful Jewish families he explained, the Marranos and the Mendès, controlled most of the banks in Iberia. Because of the Inquisition, Jews were either converting to Christianity to save themselves from persecution, the cristianos nuevos as they were called, or simply fleeing Portugal and Spain altogether for more tolerant lands.
The Marrano family had decided to become cristianos nuevos. They chose to remain in Iberia, though some say they still practice their Jewish faith in secret. The Mendès family on the other hand had decided to flee Spain for the Turkey and took their enormous wealth and banks with them. Under the protection of Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, the Mendès family found safety and prosperity in Istanbul and the integrity of international banking had suffered only a little. Under Suleiman’s son, Sultan Selim II, the Jews continued to live in peace and the Mendès banking empire flourished.
Efendi finished his history lesson by informing us that the notes Cortés had handed us were from the House of Mendès and again he assured us that they were authentic. Impressed by Efendi’s wisdom, Hunter and Atwood gave our Turkish friend from Istanbul a hardy pat on the back and apologized for ever doubting him.
“Now, Rodriguez,” I said as I sat down next to Cortés and took his wounded hand wrapped in gauze in mine. “Let us have plain speech between us. Under any law I know of we have every right to kill you for your wickedness and treachery. I do not think you evil though and, but for the Twins, I’m certain we’d still be fast friends and good trading partners. You are free to return to the life you had before we snatched you away from your cozy bed in Havana. But remember this: in return I may, from time-to-time, call upon you for a favor or two and you will give me your unwavering loyalty when I do.”
Cortés surprised me when he bent down on one knee and began sobbing. He took my hands and kissed them.
“Mary, Mary, I am so ashamed. You never did me any wrong. Yes, you have my loyalty. From my heart, I thank you. I thank you for your mercy. I shall remember what you’ve done for the rest of my days - I swear it!”
“Good, good, those are the words I long to hear Rodriguez and now we are friends again,” I said and lifted him to his feet. “And as your friend, as your very good friend, when I find the Twins I promise you they will sorely regret the day they threatened your wife, your daughters...”
Before we departed Cortés’s house, we learned from one of his slaves, a Castilian Negro Ladino, a handsome woman with kind eyes and fine, grey hair, that we had just missed Villanueva. I had secretly slipped her money during my last visit to Santo Domingo and now, unbeknownst by Cortés, she worked for me. Villanueva had left the West Indies for Spain only a few days earlier the woman told me. So I borrowed six brawny field hands from Cortés and four mules to help us carry our heavy chests and before the break of dawn we retraced our steps through the jungle and returned to our ships. After stowing our gold and silver away, along with our paper notes, we weighed anchor and set off at first light. I left the mules behind but took Cortés’s six Negro slaves for myself of course.
For no particular reason I knew of, I decided to return to Guadeloupe. In Guadeloupe at least we had friends who would help us with fresh provisions. To my dismay, I still had no plan. A day or two sitting on the beach underneath the swaying palms I thought might help inspire me.
“Lady Mary, Lady Mary!” I heard a voice call out excitedly as I slept. And then the voice rudely began shaking my shoulder, forcing me to prop myself up on an elbow and pop one eye open.
“Henry?”
“Captain Hunter sends me. To hell you must go!”
“Excuse me? To hell I must go you say?”
“Mmm, no, no, no. To helm, to helm you must go my Lady Mary.”
“‘Tis the middle of the night, Henry. Oh, for the love of Christ, very well. Go and tell your captain that I am on my way.”
“Ha-ha! Yes, yes. Henry can do it! Henry can do it!”
Those were Henry’s favorite words. Henry can do it! Henry can do it! We heard him say those words each and every day, like some daily prayer, although when he said them they sounded more like: Enry can tu it, Enry can tu it! I managed a smile for him and shooed him away with my hand so that I could wash my face and dress. He disappeared up the companionway in a burst of energy with the giggles.
The night sky was clear. The air was calm. The moon was a sliver shy of full.
When Hunter saw me step on deck he pointed to a silhouette dancing on the water, the silhouette of a single ship sitting in Guadeloupe’s tranquil harbor with all her lanterns lit.
“Spanish?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.
“Perhaps, hard to tell even with this moonlight,” Hunter replied.
“Have they run out their guns?”
“Not sure. I don’t think so though, Mary. We’re still a bit far off, but I don’t see any burning linstocks, just the lanterns. This doesn’t feel like an ambush. Even so, we should be cautious.”
“Indeed we should. Double the watch and wait until first light before we enter the bay?”
“Aye, we wait until first light and double the watch. Clever girl.”
I tried to stifle a long yawn. “I don’t feel particularly clever. I’ll fetch us a dram of uisce beatha.”
“Ah, a glass or two of aqua vitae would do nicely, take the damp chill out of my bones. Thank you kindly, Mary.”
Unable to sleep, I kept watch with Hunter through the night sipping on good Irish whiskey. Barely a word passed between us. There was no need. At first light we found a fine brigantine of one hundred and fifty tons or more with her sails rolled-up and her guns secured, quietly riding anchor in the bay. She was well-armed and flying English colors, flying the green and white livery of the Tudors embossed with Saint George’s Cross.
I sent Atwood east and MacGyver west to circle around the island to look for other sails. After they returned and hoisted green pennants from the mizzen gaffs, the signal that all was clear, I eased Phantom into the bay under half sail with our guns run out, primed and loaded. My gunners stood at their stations ready to spring into action at the first hint of trouble.
“You there!” a voice cried out to us from the brigantine when we came to within fifty yards. “What ship are you?”
Hunter stepped against the rail and cupped his hands over his mouth. “The better question my good man is what ship are you?”
“We are the Queen’s Grace.”
“You’re English?”
“Aye, we are English.”
“State your purpose here. What are your intentions?”
“We are looking for a band of Irishmen led by a woman who calls herself Lady Mary. She is known to frequent these waters. Quid pro quo, stranger, who might you be?”
“I am Mary,” I cried out to the shadowy figure speaking to us. “Now you have found me. It would be best if you stepped forward and revealed yourself, sir.”
“Ah, Lady Mary, ‘tis John Martin.”
I squinted against the early morning glare for a better look. “Ah, so it is. Small world. Will you join us for breakfast, John Martin?”
“‘Twould be an honor, Madam. I shall have a boat lowered away and be over directly.”
As Hunter reached down over the rail to help Martin on board, a longboat from the Carib pulled-up alongside us, followed a minute later by a small boat from the Abuelita. I had invited Atwood, Efendi and MacGyver to join us.
“What brings you across the storm-tossed sea to the New World, Captain Martin?” I asked.
“Oh, I beg you Lady Mary, no lofty titles for me. I am simply Master Martin. But please, call me John. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth inquires about you.”
“Does she now?”
“Indeed she does.”
“I’m flattered. This is Captain James Hunter, whom you met once before when you were our honored guest, when we provided you somewhat Spartan lodgings in the ship’s rope locker.”
“Ah, well I remember,” Martin said and warmly shook Hunter’s hand. “I am honored to make your acquaintance again, and under much more agreeable circumstances, Captain Hunter.”
“Likewise,” Hunter replied.
And after Atwood, Efendi and MacGyver joined us on the quarter deck, after introductions and pleasantries were exchanged all around, we went below to my great cabin for a hardy meal of freshly baked bread, eggs and smoked ham while my gunners kept to their stations with their guns trained on the Queen’s Grace. I had learned my lesson.
Martin, a short, stocky fellow with broad shoulders, a full beard and rivulets of long, black hair, ate enough for two. His eyes, neither cruel nor kind, were always flittering about assessing the world around him. He was alert and he was shrewd during our conversations. His temperament never strayed far from serious; his expression never varied much from austere. I did not know what to make of him.
“What news from England?” I asked cheerily as I went around the table pouring more coffee.
Martin nodded his thanks for the coffee before answering. “All is well in England. The realm is at peace. Trade is good. There have been no plagues or famines of late and the queen’s health is excellent. Her majesty is enjoying a most glorious and prosperous reign.”
“I’m glad to hear of it.”
“There was talk before I sailed from London about some skullduggery in the Irish Sea a few months back. Perhaps you’ve heard something about these matters?”
“No, I don’t think so. What kind of talk?”
“It would seem that some new, upstart pirates are on the loose seizing unarmed merchant ships and kidnapping and terrorizing their poor, beleaguered crews, six vessels in all so far. One or two of the ships were English but the pirates set them free, giving no explanation for their benevolence. Most peculiar. And, if you can imagine such a thing, these same brazen rascals towed the rest of their plunder straight into Liverpool where the Navy Royal keeps warships on station!”
“Liverpool? Whatever for?”
“They kept one carrack for themselves but sold off the other three, along with their illegal cargoes, at auction to Liverpool merchants in broad daylight! A rather ugly business to be sure.”
“My, my, my, I can’t imagine such audacity!” I said. “Spanish rascals no doubt or perhaps even wayward Moors up from North Africa.”
“No doubt one or the other,” Martin agreed readily with a thin smile.
“I pray the Navy Royal catches these marauders with haste, that justice is swift and sure. Piracy puts us all at risk.”
“Oh, I suspect these villains are long gone and far out of reach by now, Lady Mary. Perhaps they are even here in the Caribbean as we speak, somewhere nearby, as we sit comfortably in your cabin enjoying our leisurely breakfast! I was comforted to see your gunners at their stations when I boarded! Ah, and then there was some curious doings over on the other side of the Irish Sea in Waterford at about the same time. Whether the two matters are connected or simply a fluke well, who can say?”
I did my best to look surprised. “Good gracious, there is more?”
“Quite so my lady, quite so. A small storehouse down by the docks used to store gunpowder blew in the middle of the night, making quite a mess, and rumor has it the Twins are missing one warship, a nao, that had, only the day before, been taken out of dry dock near that very storehouse.”
“Good God! Only a fool with a death-wish would insult those two gruesome brutes.”
“My thoughts exactly, Lady Mary, my thoughts exactly. This is, I must say, a very fine nao you have here. Has she been recently reconditioned too? Well, no matter. She seems well-built and carries an impressive array of heavy guns on her main deck. I can certainly attest from personal knowledge that her rope locker is most sound. Is she swift and nimble?”
“None faster, none more nimble.”
“I believe you there. I’ll wager in the right hands she would do good service against even a Spanish galleon. And the Carib and Abuelita, do they carry any heavy cannon?”
“Alas, no,” Atwood answered. “Both vessels be good sailors, but they are only freighters. The Carib is rugged enough to carry guns, but the Abuelita is too small.”
“I see. The Carib looks sound enough. She appears well-built and you should give thought to arming her. Well, with each passing day relations between the great kingdoms are turning progressively sour, are becoming more confusing. Tensions are rising. Spain for instance has complained to her majesty, quite bitterly in fact, about the constant raids on Spanish shipping and Spanish towns in the Caribbean and the Azores. The Spanish accuse Englishmen of leading many of these attacks. Her good and pious majesty of course condemns any form of lawlessness. She especially deplores acts of piracy on the high seas and has informed the Spanish ambassador of this in no uncertain terms and on more than one occasion.”
“The queen is most wise,” I said and nodded. “Tell us, if you can, what brings you here to the New World, Captain Martin, I’m sorry, forgive me, John, with your own well-armed battlecruiser?”
“In her generosity her majesty allows me, from time-to-time, to slip away from court to attend to my family’s own commercial interests. I am the queen’s good servant, but even so a man must still earn a living and put food on his table.”
“Oh, and what, if I may ask, is the nature of your family’s business here in the New World?”
“Why plundering Spanish ships and property of course.”
“It is well,” I said as I turned to consider Hunter and Atwood. Both men were standing with me on the forecastle, enjoying a round of after-supper spirits. The ship’s lanterns had been lit, the night watch had been set and all was quiet on board the Phantom. A full and radiant moon slipped in and out of the clouds. A pleasant breeze kept the humidity tolerable. We could see the Carib cooking fires along the shore. We could hear the strange sounds of the jungle floating across the water towards us.
