The Noble Pirates (28 page)

But that wasn’t going to stop me from doing what I could to help.

I rushed to the deck and peered through a spyglass as the three pirates reached the shore, where they were received by a troop of musketeers. I thought the fish I’d eaten earlier was going to come up, I was so nervous, watching as Howel gestured, presumably requesting to see the governor. Shortly, the musketeers led the three men into the fort, and I closed my eyes as they disappeared, lowering the spyglass and making a silent prayer.

I hurried once again into the cabin, and once there, undressed as quickly as humanly possible. I had given myself a scrub-down earlier that morning, and now doused myself in lavender-smelling perfume. I was in the salmon-colored gown in record time, piling my hair on my head and slapping on some powder and rouge.

Good enough.

Taking a parasol that I’d found in the lady’s chest, I climbed back onto the deck, mincing over to the guardrail in my pointed, high-heeled shoes. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, watching that dark and forbidding fortress where it sat guarding the steamy lushness that was Africa. I grew tired, sat for a bit, stood up again, and went back down to the cabin for no longer than was absolutely necessary, then returned quickly to my spot on the quarterdeck, gazing out toward land conspicuously.

Jesus Christ, what was taking so long?

Please don’t fail me, Walter.

Finally, I heard our lookout call down that they were emerging from the fortress. I pulled out my spyglass and peered anxiously at the three pirates as they made their way back to the dinghy on the beach. It was hard to see their faces, hard to read their movements, and I thought I would die waiting for them to get back on the ship. As they climbed into the waist, I studied their solemn faces. Walter looked up and saw me standing there, and he smiled.

It had worked. I beamed excitedly, and then Howel looked up and saw me.

“Sabrina, in me cabin.
Now
,” he said firmly, his eyes blazing.

Oh, shit. He was mad. I followed the men into the cabin, and before the door was shut Howel was yelling at us. “Are you two going behind me back and plotting? Do you seek to undermine me plans?”

Walter spoke quickly, just as forcefully. “Davies, we have faith in you, don’t doubt it. But Sabrina wanted additional assurance, something to sway the governor toward our side if he seemed dubious of our identity. Admit as much: When the sentry whispered to the governor that there was a woman on board the ship, we had ‘im. It was the push he needed.”

“Me plan would have worked without involving Sabrina,” Howel growled. “I would have had ‘im regardless.” He turned on me. “You had no right to go behind me back, dammit.”

“I am part of this crew,” I cried. “I have a right – ”

“I am captain of this ship,” Howel retorted, stepping close to me and grabbing me by the wrist. “I can have you hung from a spar by your pretty little feet.”

It had been a while since we’d touched, and a spark ignited as his hand closed around my wrist. I caught my breath and looked into his face, and I could see he felt it too. He withdrew his hand as if he’d been burned, and returned my gaze in silent anguish. He was still dressed as the gentleman, in the gorgeous maroon coat, the large tricorn hat. But unlike the time he’d dressed as the merchant captain in the Cape Verde Islands, there was something not quite right about him now: the clothes were of highest quality, but the man who wore them was darkly burnt from the sun, even more muscled than before, and had a wild, menacing look in his blue eyes.

The man who wore them looked like an outlaw.

“I hope, for your sake, that the governor continues to accept our story,” Howel said to me, taking a step away, “or you will hang for piracy like the rest of us.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” I said. “I already know that. I am one of you, Howel, whether you like it or not.”

“We have been invited to dine with him, you, me, and Walter,” Howel said, ignoring my last comment. “I told him I would make sure the ship was properly anchored and then return with a few bottles of liquor – and me lovely wife. So we haven’t much time.”

Walter called the crew to the deck so that Howel could tell them his plan. I looked at the pirate faces around me, the rage and hunger in them. They gazed up at their leader in awe, in reverence, ready and willing to do his bidding.

Howel laid out his plan: “While I was chatting with the kind governor this afternoon, I noted the patrol of the sentries, where the guns and small arms be kept, the number of guards in the guardhouse. With a bit of cunning, we can take Gambia Castle. Walter, Sabrina and I will return to the fort, armed secretly with pistols, and dine with the governor. Twelve of you – Walter, decide which of ‘em would be best suited for the job – will come with us, pistols hidden, and befriend the guards in the guardroom. You will wait for me signal – a single gunshot from the window of the governor’s residence – and then take the guards by gunpoint and open the fort’s gates.” Howel paused, raking his fingernails against his chin, where the hair was beginning to grow back. “The rest of you will wait here, armed and ready, and when the flag is struck, make haste to the shore and storm the fort.” He smiled. “It should all be done in less than half a glass.”

An approving murmur rose from the crew, and Walter began choosing twelve men to come ashore with us. We were each given two pistols, and I hid mine in my sash, beneath my gown.

Here we go, I thought. Don’t screw this up, Sabrina.

I was so nervous I thought I might faint as I watched the men load the bottles of wine and rum onto the dinghy. Then it was time to climb into the boat, and Howel hopped deftly from the waist, looking up at me and holding his hand out to me solemnly. In the twilight, Howel’s face was dark and his eyes bright, framed by a serious brow. As I struggled to get down in my skirts, he lifted me easily and set me down in the boat, against him. “Let’s be off,” he said, indicating stiffly that I should sit.

We were received graciously by the governor’s men and brought to his apartments within the fort, which were illuminated by the soft glow of candles. The governor himself was a broad-chested man with an aquiline nose and the longest eyebrow hairs I have ever seen. It made him look something like a demon, the way the hairs curled upward onto his forehead. On a number of occasions, I felt his eyes on me, studying me. The guy was English, and I was terrified he would wonder about my pathetic accent. In my mind’s eye, I saw Fabia and her ladies, sitting straight-backed in their chairs, fluttering their fans, not speaking. It was all I had to do. I could do that much, right?

“Governor Orfeur, we bring gifts,” Howel said, his smile seeming utterly genuine, his face honest and open as he held two of the bottles of liquor in his hands. He turned and gestured for the rest of it to be brought before the governor.

“Ah!” the governor sighed, clearly delighted by his new acquisition of liquor. “I cannot tell you, Captain Reed, how welcome this gift is! I have been without a fine claret or rum for months…” He took a bottle of rum from Howel, cradling it lovingly in his hands. “I will open this bottle and have a punch made, in honor of your visit, while we wait for dinner to be served,” he said.

“The honor, Your Excellency,” Howel replied gallantly, flashing a dazzling smile, “is all ours.”

We were seated in the parlor, where Howel and the governor made small talk about London, Liverpool, the slave trade… The only other of Howel’s crew who had come to the governor’s apartments with Howel, Walter and me was the coxswain, a young man named Archie, who had entered under the guise of helping deliver the gift of liquor. His
real
job was to make sure most of the armed guards had left the apartments, and to notify Howel that the rooms had been cleared of all but the governor himself, his servants, and the two guards who stood unobtrusively along the wall.

I waited, listening to the small talk of the men, stock-still save the pounding of my heart, which I swore everyone could hear. Howel was calm, animated, sitting casually in his chair, one leg stretched before him. There wasn’t the slightest hint of anxiety in his face, not a stutter of uncertainty in his speech. He drank his punch, commenting on its flavor, on the superiority of the rum from Barbados… Howel was a damn good liar, and I wasn’t sure, as far as I was concerned, that was a good thing…

Archie peeked into the room and met Howel’s eyes, giving his pirate captain a brisk nod and disappearing. Howel didn’t move, didn’t alter his relaxed position in his chair. He continued to chat with the governor about the dominance of England over France and Spain, slipping his hand casually into his waistcoat as though he were reaching for a pipe or a tin of tobacco. He pulled a pistol from his coat, still talking, cocked it, and leveled it at the governor. It was done so coolly, so offhandedly, that the governor stared at the pistol, uncomprehending and befuddled, for a few moments. Even the guards stood quietly, unaware of what was happening for several seconds. With a start, they grabbed clumsily for their muskets, but Walter and Archie had already drawn their pistols, covering them.

Howel still sat comfortably in his chair, a pleasant smile on his face. “Your Excellency, as much as I’d hate to ruin this fine evening, I must inform you that you are now the prisoner of the pirate Howel Davis.”

The governor, aghast, his mouth open, his eyes like saucers, managed to stammer, “Who is Howel Davis?”

Howel sat up slowly, lackadaisically, still smiling. “I am.”

The governor looked at me and any remaining confusion he had quickly dissipated as I, too, drew my pistol from my gown. His eyes were fixed on me in horror, and I could see what he was thinking: The woman is a
pirate!

“‘Twould be in your favor, Governor Orfeur, to surrender immediately – your house, the fort, and everything in it,” Howel said, standing as Archie, Walter and I took the muskets from the guards. Howel then went to the window and leaned out, holding his pistol up in the humid night air and firing.

The fight was out of our hands, now: Howel could only hope he hadn’t missed anything important in his quick study of the fort and in instructing his men, and that they had done as they were ordered. As the seven of us waited there, the governor as white as a sheet, Howel spoke softly, warmly, about politics, continuing the conversation he had been having with the governor prior to holding him at gunpoint. Once in a while he paused, his head cocked, listening for gunfire.

We heard nothing – until a great cry went up, and several pirates burst into the room. “ ‘Tis done, Davies! Gambia Castle is ours!” one of them cried.

The soldiers were locked away, their weapons seized, in the guardroom; the batteries were under pirate control; the fort gates were opened and the flag lowered; reinforcements from the
King James
had arrived and consolidated control over the garrison.

Howel turned to the governor and grinned brilliantly. “D’you see how civil that was, Your Excellency? The fort is taken without a single man lost, without a single shot fired – except, of course, for me signal.” He dropped the English accent and let his working-class Welsh one take its place. Now, as he stood before his captive with his pistol in hand, he looked very much like an ostentatiously-dressed pirate captain.

The governor must have wondered how he hadn’t seen it from the beginning.

Chapter Thirty-One

  I could hear the laughter of the four pirates manning the cannon aboard the
King James
as they prepared to fire it again, swabbing out the muzzle and packing in a charge of gunpowder. The ship and fort, now under pirate control, were taking turns firing salutes to each other as the loot was brought aboard the vessel.

  There wasn’t as much treasure in Gambia Castle as Howel had hoped – most of the year’s earnings had already been sent back to England – three thousand pounds in gold, as well as plenty of goods, was all that was left. This wasn’t mere pocket change, but not as much as the pirates thought they would find, considering the risk they had taken. If Howel felt disappointment, he showed none of it, lavishing his crew with praise and reward, smiling readily, and treating his captives as though they were guests in his home. Before taking the fort, Howel had captured a small sloop that had been anchored in the roadstead near the
King James
to ensure that none of its crew alerted the fort to the presence of pirates; now, he restored the sloop back to its captain and crew, and gave them some valuable goods as compensation for the trouble he had caused them.

I stood on the quarterdeck, leaning against the guard rail, watching as the pirates fired their salutes to each other and loaded the last of the plunder onto the
King James.
Howel, no longer the extravagantly-dressed merchant captain, leaped from the ship to the boat to help unload the booty, the sleeves of his linen shirt rolled up, his feet bare, and a kerchief around his neck. I wanted to make peace with him, to tell him that he was angry about nothing, because I missed him something fierce. I longed to feel his embrace, to hear his heart beat steadily as I lay my head on his chest. My efforts, however, were thwarted by the fact that Howel had been a busy man, without a moment’s rest, since capturing the fort. It had been several days, and yet I swore I hadn’t seen him sleep for more than an hour at a time.