Across a Moonlit Sea (10 page)

“Is there somewhere we can go and talk in private?” he asked Jonas.

“My cabin. If it’s still my cabin, that is.”

“It is your cabin, sir. Your cabin and your ship, and you have my heartfelt apologies if I made it seem any other way. Mister Pitt will join us, if you have no objection, and your navigator, if he can be spared. We lost our pilot and most of our instruments in the storm that blew us to hell and gone; with the fighting and the drift and the heavy cloud cover we could be within hailing distance of Cathay and I’d not know it.”

“We’ve been plagued by the same cloud cover, but near as we can fix it, we are a week south o’ the Canaries, thereabouts. Another three after that, with luck, an’ we’ll be home.”

Dante nodded consideringly, deliberately avoiding the glance Pitt shot his way. He did not refuse the hand his first mate offered to help him up, however, and after testing
his weight on the wounded leg, he found the pain vastly diminished. He still swayed unsteadily on his feet. Fatigue and two cups of Indies Gold on an empty stomach put his head into such a spin, when he squinted upward and tried to focus on the darkness overhead, he saw two north stars twinkling brightly off the bow.

Jonas started to lead the way along the deck toward the stern of the ship. “Beau—will ye not see if Cook has aught in the way o’ hot victuals in the stewpot? Bring along a biscuit or two as well; a man can think an’ talk better when he isn’t listenin’ to his belly rub on his ribs.”

Beau planted her hands on her hips and glared mutinously after her father. “I’m not an errand boy either,” she muttered, watching with hot, flashing eyes as the three men ducked through the after hatch. Her last glimpse was of Dante’s flowing white shirt as he lagged behind, favoring the newly bandaged leg.

“And a gracious you’re welcome’ to you too,” she snorted.

 B
eau was still grousing as she descended the shallow ladder into the area beneath the forecastle where the cook held rein over the ship’s stores. He was a bellicose man, lean as a whip, ugly as a wart, with the unparalleled talent of being able to pass wind upon request. Beau’s query for food won a resounding demonstration of his skill, followed by a hand waved sullenly in the direction of the huge iron cauldron. Assuming it meant help yourself, she did. There was a thick miasma of rice and beans bubbling sluggishly in the kettle, some of which she ladled into a large wooden bowl. Two thick slabs of boiled, salted fish were tossed onto a tin platter along with a handful of rock-hard biscuits and a wedge of yellow cheese.

With the crumbs of one hastily devoured biscuit clinging to her lower lip, Beau threaded her way back to the stern, choosing to take a path belowdecks rather than crossing above. The air was dank and smelled of too many sweaty bodies cramped together in too close quarters. Hammocks were slung between every beam and board, many of them already occupied by men of both crews who had
worked hard throughout the day. Most of them would be up again before dawn, engaged in normal ships routine.

A small, clear section perhaps six foot square was devoid of any hanging canvas cocoons and it was there, around an upturned barrel, that a dozen or so men who were not slated for the early watch gathered to whittle and trade stories. A shielded lantern hung over their heads, swaying with the motion of the ship. Some chewed on knots of leather or sucked on hoarded sticks of sugarcane that had been left out in the sun long enough to ferment the juices.

Most of the twelve were from the
Egret
and tugged a forelock respectfully as Beau passed by. One offered her a strip of cane, which she accepted and popped into her mouth, chewing and sucking the stringy pulp to release the sweet, strong liquor.

Two of the men were off the
Virago
and watched her with curious eyes and slack mouths.

“She don’t belong to nobody,” she overheard one of the men whisper in response to a muffled question. “And if ye know what’s best, ye’ll forget ye askt.”

The narrow passage leading to the captain’s great cabin was dark, but Beau knew it as well as she knew the back of her hand. She ducked for the low beams and veered once to avoid clipping her hip on the ladder rail, a second time to maneuver around a barrel of water.

Where there was usually one large cabin spanning the breadth of the ship’s stern and occupying most of the area beneath the raised aftercastle, on the
Egret
there were two. It was Spence’s only concession to Beau’s sex, that she have somewhere private to sleep and tend to her “woman’s things.” Thus the great cabin had been partitioned into two slightly unequal halves, with two separate doors and a wall of oak planking between. Spence’s was the larger of the two, overstuffed with furniture as stout and well seasoned
as the man who used it. A wide, square berth filled one corner, a desk and a wire-fronted cabinet were crammed into the other. The door to the gallery—a two-foot-wide balcony that stretched across the stern—was located in Beau’s half, leaving that much more room for the captain’s sea chests and piles of assorted clutter that filled every spare inch of space. A large five-spoked wheel with simple brass lamps hung suspended from an overhead beam, spilling a pool of pale light over the top of a much-abused dining table and four sturdy chairs.

Spence, Simon Dante, and Geoffrey Pitt were seated at the table, a fresh jar of rum between them. Beau’s approach had been silent and no one looked up or noticed her standing in the darkness of the companionway, the platter balanced in her hands.

“Not near as fancy as yer
Virago
, I warrant,” Spence was saying. “But then I’m not a fancy man an’ it suits me just fine. Beau has the other half—fer her own safety, if ye know what I mean. Not that she wouldn’t sling herself in a hammock alongside the rest o’ the crew, given her druthers. Aye, an’ if it meets yer needs, Cap’n, ye can put up in her berth for the journey home. Beau won’t mind.”

Out in the corridor Beau’s mouth fell open.

“I’ll stay with my men. I don’t want to put anyone out of their bed.”

“Nonsense. There’s a perfectly good sail closet Beau can make proper cozy. An’ I’m not wantin’ to be known as the man who slung Dante de Tourville in a canvas sack atween two beams.”

Dante gave the red-bearded ship’s master a curious look. “A few hours ago you would have gladly slung me in a noose.”

Spence shrugged. “That were a few hours ago. Since
then I’ve come to think ye’re an honorable bastard despite yer lapse o’ manners.”

Pitt grinned over the rim of his cup. “He’s actually fairly well housebroken when he isn’t chewing nails and spitting fire.”

Spence guffawed. “Aye. I figured as much when he didn’t rape my daughter when he had the chance—likely the provocation as well.”

“Was she disappointed?” Dante asked dryly.

“Only that yer gun did not fire. She thought it a dirty trick to blow out the prime.”

“Lucky for me I did or she would have blown out my gizzard.”

“Lucky fer ye she did not carve it out anyroad. She probably had more blades on her,” he added matter-of-factly. “Even stripped naked an’ searched ten ways to Sunday, she would have had one hid somewheres.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Just keep it in yer breeches, Cap’n,” Spence said with a not-so-jovial smile. “I’ve yet to see a man take somethin’ from her she did not want to give. Just like her mother, rest her soul. Regular hellcat when her fur was ruffled. Gave me this”—he tilted his chin and lifted a hoary handful of red fuzz out of the way to reveal a six-inch-long scar running down the side of his windpipe—“on our weddin’ night, an’ this”—he pulled open the V of his shirt to display another badge of honor high on his shoulder—“the day she told me she were with child.”

“Her way of celebrating happy occasions?”

Spence chuckled again. “She were Portugee. A rare dark-eyed Gipsy with hot blood an’ mischief in her soul. I took her off a ship we raided an’ wed her the same night; she took offense we did not stand before a priest, so she did not consider us married. When she found she was with
child, she could scarce bear the shame an’ forced me, at gunpoint, to seek out a Catholic sermoner. The gun went off, accidentallike, an’ she wept fer two days thinkin’ she’d killed me. When she judged I would live, she packed me into a cart an’ propped me in front of a priest anyway.” He paused and smiled wistfully at the memory. “Only wench I knew could give a man the sweetest taste o’ heaven one minute an’ the hottest bite o’ hell the next. Have ye a wife o’ yer own?”

“I had one. Once.” Dante said flatly. “But she was out of my life a long time ago and we are both happier for it.”

Spence chuckled. “Not a pleasurable experience, I gather?”

“No more pleasurable than falling into a pit full of snakes.”

“Now ye sound just like my Beau, Claims she wants no part o’ a husband, nor o’ any man who would pull her away from the sea.”

“Who put her here in the first place?”

Spence snorted. “She put herself.”

He assumed his companions’ cups were as empty as his and refilled all three before setting aside the crock and taking a slow, leisurely scratch at his armpit. “Aye, so now I can tell ye all about what put my Isabeau on board the
Egret
… if ye need more time to decide if ye can trust me … or ye can tell me what killed yer ship.”

Pitt and Dante exchanged a glance. Pitt’s shrug was almost imperceptible and Dante lowered the cup from his lips, swallowing carefully.

“Greed, Captain Spence. I warrant it was greed and cowardice that killed my ship.”

Spence’s beard shifted over a thoughtful grimace. “When we heard about the raid on Veracruz, we also heard
there were two ships sailed away, stuffed beam to bilges with gold.”

Dante nodded. “When the venture was first conceived, I knew it would need two ships. The risk was enormous, as you can appreciate, but the prize was worth ten times what a single vessel could hope to earn on a dozen voyages. The Queen herself put forward the candidate. She assured me he was … cut of good cloth.”

Spence grunted. “Even the strongest canvas comes with flaws, lad. Some with great gapin’ holes.”

“Aye, well, you can be sure Victor Bloodstone will have a great gaping hole in him ere I’m finished.”

“Bloodstone? Walsingham’s bastard?”

“He prefers the term
nephew
, but aye. One and the same.”

“Last I heard, he were the new darling o’ the Court, the prettiest face to amuse the Queen.”

“Indeed, he has a pretty face and Elizabeth likes to surround herself with beauty in the hopes it might be contagious. He also knows how to sail a ship, damn his soul; I can’t fault him for lack of skill or experience. It was the only reason I agreed to take Bloodstone on, and in the beginning he did not disappoint. We sailed for Veracruz like two hungry wolves stalking fresh meat.” He hesitated and stared blankly out the darkened gallery windows. “Do you know the Spanish harbor at all?”

Spence shifted in his seat, obviously not wanting to appear ignorant, but at the same time not wanting to admit he had never risked so deep a foray into Spanish waters. Veracruz was a terminus for the mule trains that carried gold and silver out of the mountains of Mexico. It had confidently been declared by the Spanish to be out of reach and impregnable to any foreign sail, as heavily fortified as any madman would expect a treasure depot to be.

“At any rate,” Dante continued, talking now to his rum, “thanks to Lucifer, we knew of a secluded bay on the Island of Sacrifices, not five leagues from Veracruz. It was big enough to hide two ships and easily within striking distance of the harbor. We each carried the framework for several pinnaces in our holds on the voyage down, and when we reached the inlet, it was a small matter to assemble the vessels and launch our tiny fleet on a surprise nighttime raid.

“No one expected us, No one raised an alarm, for we looked like harmless fishing boats. We landed a mile or so up the coast and went overland into Veracruz; eighty men in all, and each came away with as many bars of gold as he could load onto a mule. Christ, the cocky bastards even left the stables unguarded.

“By morning, of course, all hell broke loose, for we had not exactly been tidy with the bodies at the treasure house. As luck would have it, however, a squall blew up and delayed their pursuit by a full two days—plenty of time for two nimble wolves to slink away and use those same winds to blow us clear across the Caribbean. We were successful too. We broke into open sea and were more than halfway home before misfortune struck. A gale, the likes of which I had not seen in twenty years, swept us along like spindrift for seven days and nights. It battered the Virago so badly, she ended up on a reef with a hole in her hull wide enough to swim through.

“Our first thought was to find someplace safe where we could haul her over and make repairs. We were as yet unsure of where we were but the lookouts spied a small island and we made for it, hoping for time to make repairs. Once there, we lightened the
Virago’s
burden by off-loading our weight of gold bars along with every spare barrel and crate we carried—including most of our food and fresh water.