The Butcher's Daughter, page 33
“Prior meeting? Is that what it was? My God, sir, you are loose with your choice of words. And no harm done you say? We traded broadsides. You lost men to our iron that day, on the day of our prior meeting. No raw feelings?”
“Why, nooo! None at all. We live and we die and how we live and die defines us. I warned my men of the risks of taking on a galleon. We put the matter to a vote and the majority won. Viva la république! My men lived well. My men died well. C’est la volonté de Dieu. It is God’s will. You were, I understand, only defending yourself.”
I was finding it difficult to dislike the Frenchman. “Well then, let’s just say that I don’t like or trust the French. There’s a fine, fine reason not to sail together.”
“Pardon, my lady? Why is this so? I am like the tawny lion. You are the sleek jaguar. We both were born to hunt! Our kind is always on the prowl. It is our nature. What a fighting pair we would make! What is not to like?”
Testu then turned to a tall, lean Blackamoor standing near the capstan, banging away at some metal part with a hammer. “Ah, Maurice!” he called out to the man. “There you are mon ami.”
“Sir?”
“Go and find that damn cook of ours!” Testu growled, continuing to speak in tolerable English. “Tell him to sober up and light the galley fires. And then bring me more wine! We have honored guests on board and I wish to entertain them properly with a proper meal. Make sure the old fart sobers-up first, Maurice. Only then is he allowed to light the galley fires. Better yet, you best do it for that simpleton.”
The Blackamoor nodded and disappeared below with a thin smile.
“Maurice is a Cimarron, a former slave. He is my first officer, a wonderful number two. He is a fine, fine sailor. Our cook on the other hand is a disagreeable, little dwarf of a man. But he is a magician with cuisine. He can create the most delectable treats when he puts his mind to it. I swear that Italian sot could make boot leather taste good. At tending fires while imbibing strong spirts, well there Antonio’s skills are somewhat lacking. He nearly set the ship ablaze a month ago. Lady Mary, Captain Hunter, you and your officers will of course join us for supper, I insist! Later you can have my head if that is still your wish.”
It pained me to admit it, but the Frenchman was beginning to win me over. Even Hunter, I could tell, if grudgingly, was warming up to him.
In the morning, following an evening of excellent food and wine and pleasant conversation, we took Testu’s broken ship Aphrodite in tow under the watchful eye of the splendid, nude likeness of the goddess mounted to the prow. I had agreed to take Testu as far as the Port of Spain, the only port where Testu could show his face, or so he said. The Spanish I knew had indeed turned a blind eye to much of the Caribbean’s lawlessness in Trinidad in hopes of pacifying a handful of pirates and smugglers. Under an unspoken, sometimes uneasy truce between the two factions, Trinidad was neutral ground. Rescuing Testu was a small price to pay to buy his friendship I thought, or perhaps even a sliver of his loyalty, however fleeting his loyalty or friendship might be.
We used our time in the Port of Spain to make general repairs to our own ships and even found a sturdy, new mizzen mast for Bella, though I paid too much for it. But whenever the ships needed anything, I never skimped on money.
With the work overhauling our ships nearly completed, my officers and I joined Testu at the tavern on the square for a last meal together. The tavern was far livelier than when we had left it a few weeks earlier. The place was packed with drinking men playing cards or dice or sampling the establishment’s abundant carnal pleasures. I was surprised to see several sailors of my own sex among the crowd. They were taller and stockier than me and looked capable of holding their own.
It was at the tavern that my past, again, caught up to me. Henry and Kinkae, nearly inseparable friends now, stood at the tavern’s door and waved me outside.
“What was that all about, Mary?” Hunter asked me after I returned to our table and took my seat.
“Oh, not much. The lads had a question about purchasing iron mast fittings.”
Hunter furled his brow and glanced at me askew. “A question about iron fittings? At this hour?”
“Aye, iron fittings, to keep as spares. In the morning let’s gather the men. We sail for Santo Domingo. We sail with the next tide.”
“Santo Domino? But before we snagged Testu, we were sailing for the Spanish Main. Why this sudden change of heart, Mary?”
“Think little on it, James. Drink and be merry. As you’ve heard me say once or twice before, women can be fickle. We often don’t know the why of it ourselves.”
We left our new friend Testu in Trinidad and found our old friend Cortés where we had left him, in his home in Santo Domingo. It was well past midnight when I quietly slipped inside his bedroom. I gingerly sat on the edge of his bed with a loaded pistol in my hand. He didn’t stir until I took my fingers and started gently combing the loose strands of his glossy, dark hair back off his ear.
His eyes popped open at my touch. He bolted upright in his bed. He looked at me in terror.
“Mary! Sweet Jesus!” he said, putting a hand over his heart. “You startled me!”
“How is my favorite Spaniard? You are well I trust, Rodriguez?”
A glint of moonlight pouring in through the bedroom window reflected off the silver barrel of my pistol. Cortés eyed the weapon warily.
“Ah, forgive me,” I said and eased the pistol’s hammer down. “This is not for you, my dearest. I find comfort in keeping it close, especially when I hear the names of the Twins floating about.”
“They are not here, Mary, I swear it!”
“I do not doubt you there, my friend. I did not think to find them in your bed. Still, the dolphins whisper to me. The seagulls sing to me. They warn me. They say the Twins are near.”
“Yes, yes! But I had no means of getting word to you, to warn you of their plans. I did not know where you were. How could I? I received a letter from these wretched brothers only recently. They wrote to tell me that they would depart Ireland soon. They will sail to the Caribbean with large quantities of contraband, or so they said.”
“They inquired about me, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And you said?”
“Nothing, Mary! I wrote no reply. I swear it!”
“Relax, Rodriguez, relax. I believe you. They sail with two ships: Medusa’s Head and the Pilum, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Their only interest is in smuggling goods and finding me?”
“No. They intend to put in here, at Santo Domingo, to see the captain-general. The captain-general will accompany the Irish to Havana.”
“What intrigue is afoot there I wonder?”
“I cannot be certain. But it is no secret there are many in Scotland and Ireland who would support Catholic Spain in any war against the heretic, Tudor queen. Her Protestant faith is the devil’s own work. With God’s good blessing, it will be her undoing. The day of her reckoning will come. His Holiness will burn her at the stake when it does.”
“Oh? How remarkable. When did God judge Elizabeth a heretic? And pray tell me, how did you come by this divine revelation? The Almighty confides in you? I’ve heard of no such judgment.”
“No, but - .”
“Well, never you mind, Rodriguez. I did not come here to quarrel or to debate religion with you. I am indifferent on the matter. But I do smell an opportunity. Whilst the Twins are dillydallying here in the New World, I shall return to the old one. My men have families to look in on. But I will need cargo for my ships. I do not sail for charity. Same arrangement as we had before?”
“Yes, of course, of course. But everything I have is in Havana.”
“Aye, everything you have is in Havana. So it is time for you to dress my good man. My ships are anchored nearby. We sail tonight; we leave now.”
“For Havana?”
I took Cortés’s hand in mine, his right hand missing a little finger, and gave him a puzzled look. “But of course Havana you silly goose. Where else would we sail to in the middle of the night?”
“But, Mary, I have vouchsafed those goods already to another.”
“Aye, I know. But to whom I wonder?”
“Well, I, ahem, I …”
“‘Tis alright, Rodriguez. You may say it. You need not fear the truth. The lies are what I despise.”
“To, to, to the Twins. I could not refuse them. What, what will I tell them when they see my warehouses empty?”
“What will you tell them, indeed? Hmmm. Tell them a rival, a competitor, forced you to sell it all to them on pain of death - which is not far off the mark if you, yourself, are squeamish about telling lies. Or tell the Twins that agents of the Casa de Contratación surprised you and confiscated everything. Or tell them a ternado swept it all away. Tell them anything you like - except the truth. And when they do ask you about me, you will tell them that I panicked when I heard that they were returning to the Caribbean. You will tell them that you have it on good authority that I fled to France in terror. Do you understand?”
Cortés nodded.
“Say it.”
“Yes, yes. I understand, Mary. You fled to France in terror.”
“Good, now dress,” I commanded sternly and gave him back his hand.
And then with perfect timing, as if on cue, Mustafa stepped out of the shadows with Cortés’s trousers folded over his arm.
After leaving Havana, with our ships loaded down to the scuppers with Cortés cargo, cargo vouchsafed to the Twins, we made good time sailing east across the poisoned sea. And as I stood on the beak-head at the prow watching the dolphins play, I knew somewhere out on the vast horizon the Twins were sailing west, sailing past us in the opposite direction. And though I could not see them, and they could not see me, I could feel our fates colliding. A chill raced down my spine. I shuddered at the premonition.
But then, just as the sun began melting into the sea off our stern and as bright and lovely Venus - a joy to every mariner - ascended into the heavens, Hunter snuck up behind me and kissed me on the neck. I felt my knees go weak when he started nibbling on my ear. And when he wrapped his arms around my waist in the fading light and held me close, a wonderful, comforting warmth filled me, expunging all my earlier disquiet.
“Mmm, you wish to warm my bed?” I asked as I savored our tender moment.
“Nah, I need you to step aside woman so that I can use the head.”
“Oh? Well after you finish your business at the privé you can go and do whatever it is lonely men do at night when they have no woman to satisfy their cravings. Your loss, sailor. The worse for you considering the desires of this particular woman, the only woman aboard this ship as best I know, are on fire…”
He slapped my bottom as I walked away with a smile on my lips. I went to check on the night watch and then retired to my cabin to wait for Hunter.
After a quiet supper with just the two of us, Hunter stretched out across my bunk with his hands locked behind his head, staring absently up at the ceiling planks. “Do you think,” he asked me, “Cortés will betray you?”
“No,” I replied as I stood in front of him and began caressing his inner thigh. “Cortés has made no move against us. He has remained, so far, faithful.”
“How can you be so certain, Mary?”
“A woman’s intuition perhaps?”
“A woman’s intuition my arse! Now that I think of it, of late you seem to be a step or two ahead of the rest of us. It is uncanny what you sometimes seem to know. I thought it was just good luck or a fluke at first. What is it you know now that the rest of us do not?”
“Now?” I asked as I undid the buttons to my shirt. “Now I know my body aches for your attention.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow, but not over my obvious attempt to seduce him. “Ah-ha, why you sly, little fox!”
I let my shirt fall to the deck. I slowly undid my trousers and let them slide off my hips. I stood before my lover naked, filled with raw and eager lust.
“I’ve been deprived of your cock for too long,” I said, yearning to feel his touch. I was in a sinful mood. But Hunter seemed oblivious to my lewd advances. He seemed content to let me beg him for what I needed.
“Ah, I should’ve understood matters sooner,” he said and slapped his forehead. “I’ve seen how you talk in whispers and exchange silent nods around Henry and Kinkae at times. Those two have helped you establish a web of spies throughout the Caribbean using Caribs and Moors. True? But of course it’s true. And you must be using Chief Paka Wokili’s war canoes to ferry messages back and forth between the islands. Ha! Our good chief must be a willing conspirator in your little ring of agents!”
I licked my lips seductively and purred. I climbed into the bed and straddled him. Hunter pretended to ignore me so I slowly began grinding my hips against him. “Good God, you’re slow-witted tonight James.”
Still my man snubbed me. But I could feel him stir; I could feel his manhood rising. I could feel the wetness between my legs; I could feel my own ecstasy slowly building.
“Inspired, Mary. Ingenious really. Why keep this a little secret from me and the others?”
I undid his belt and pulled his trousers off. I leaned over him, slipped my tongue inside his mouth and lingered there for a moment, just long enough for the promise of something more. “Because, Henry and Kinkae both made me swear I would keep our arrangement secret.”
“Suspicious buggers aren’t they? What do they get out of it?”
I unbuttoned his shirt. I kissed his neck, his chest and worked my way down to his stomach. “I promised Kinkae that I’d purchase the freedom of any of his people who helped us. Esmerelda, you know the woman, the Castilian Negro Ladino in charge of Cortés’s household, she is in our employ. She uses the money I give her to help her people. Chief Paka Wokili likes the quality gifts we give him and what we pay him in tribute. Henry asked for nothing. He seems inspired by the sheer sport of it. Now relax my love. I want to inspire you.”
Hunter continued staring into space; he continued ignoring me. “Clever. How many spies do we have, Mary?”
I did not answer him. And when I took his stiff rod in my hands and began pleasuring him, he mercifully stopped asking me silly questions.
We arrived in Westport safely and sold off our cargo for a tidy sum. I had of course sworn off smuggling but did not think the queen, if she ever learned of this small infraction of her rules, of my brief fall from grace, would mind too much considering the pearls I had left behind for her in London.
I gave two months’ liberty to all my men. Hunter, Atwood and Efendi went on to County Cork and Youghal to make certain the Twins had left Ireland for the New World and to learn whatever they could about our hated archenemy’s plans. And I, reluctantly, agreed it was best for me to venture no farther than Westport and kept myself to the shadows.
I spent most of my days in the taverns along the waterfront where the talk was mostly of rebellion. Queen Elizabeth’s father, King Henry VIII, had claimed the crown of Ireland for himself during his reign of course and the English ever since had taken a heavy, brutal hand in humbling Irish pride. But England wanted far more than just Ireland’s rigid obedience. The English wanted the island for themselves and were colonizing Ireland as the Spanish were colonizing the New World - by displacing the indigenous population just as Gilley had said. Under the harsh policy of Plantation, the English were landing on the shores of Ireland by the thousands, seizing free titles, land and wealth.
English soldiers had started with Ulster to the north and then invaded Munster to the south. Gaelic nobility was the first to go, the first to suffer, but patricians, respectable citizens, commoners, laborers, farmers, carters and even poor gravediggers were all robbed of their possessions too. Beyond these earthly matters, Protestant Reformers wanted the soul of Ireland and set upon the land with sword and fire to purify it. Christendom’s two jealous gods were at war and both deities had vast legions under arms willing to shed blood. There were tales, evil tales, of whole families, men, women and children, being slaughtered in the Name of God.
And I heard the name Francis Drake again. He and another man named Norreys, Sir John Norreys, had landed at Rathlin Island to the north and stormed a castle there held by the rebellious MacDonnell clan. After Drake and Norreys’s men cut down all the castle’s defenders, taking no prisoners except for the ringleader MacDonnell, they searched the nearby caves, rounded up the women and children in hiding and forced them off the cliffs. They say hundreds of Catholic Scots perished in the massacre. The say Drake forced MacDonnell to watch the slaughter of his people.
I listened to these grisly tales of horror dispassionately for I did not see myself as Irish or Catholic. I had no stake in any of it. Envious kingdoms had butchered their neighbors for land and wealth and power for centuries. No earthly being has the strength to stop it. Not even the gentle lamb of Bethlehem, from what I’ve seen and heard, has the clout to change things.
Still, it would be untrue to say that I was untouched by the slaughter of innocent women and children. God knows I have killed. I’ve killed men without a twinge of repentance, without the slightest guilt. But I shuddered at the thought of butchered children and their poor, murdered mothers. Only the stoniest heart could hear such evil and feel nothing.
It was a cold and drizzly morning. As I walked down Quay Road debating which tavern to stop at for a noonday meal, I tightened my cloak around my shoulders and quickened my step.
“By the grace of God!” I heard a voice call out behind me. “Mary?”
I tightened my grip around a dagger I hidden inside my cloak and spun around to find a man, an elderly man short in stature and plump around the waist, dressed in the plain, brown robes of a friar, staring at me. We had just walked past each other. He looked at me in disbelief.
