The Noble Pirates (30 page)

I suddenly said, “That day, back on the
Cadogan
, when Howel had the men remove your shackles. You said something to him in
Igbo
that made him think. What was it?”

Sam stared at me. “I do not remember.”

I bit my lip and thought back. “He said, ‘You’ll make some rich landowner all the richer,’ and you replied with ‘You and I together.’ Then you said something to him in
Igbo
.”

“Ah,” Sam said, his eyes widening as he remembered. “I said, ‘If men are denied the chance to live in freedom, they will make their own freedom.’”

“Wow,” I replied softly, watching some pirates dance drunkenly on the beach of Bunce Island in the distance, wearing some dandy clothes they had found in the fort. If only all the pirates had such lofty ideals.

Chapter Thirty-Two

  What followed was effortless capture of ship after unsuspecting ship, as each sailed into the harbor at Sierra Leone, not knowing that the fort was now under pirate control. Levasseur took a new ship for himself, while Howel and Cocklyn careened and cleaned theirs. They captured thirteen ships over two months.

  Those were a dark two months, as little by little Levasseur and Cocklyn revealed themselves to be the savage brutes I feared they were, and Howel Davis found himself virtually alone, trying to protect the captives of the prizes they had caught.

The tension between the pirate captains reached a peak after Cocklyn’s capture of the
Bird
, a London slaver that had unwittingly come into the harbor at Sierra Leone. The captain, William Snelgrave and his crew were badly beaten by Cocklyn and his pirates for attempting to defend themselves. By the time Howel arrived aboard the
Bird
, its precious cargo had been wasted – the livestock slaughtered and half-eaten, the decks washed with the valuable liquor, and the books tossed into the sea.

Unbeknownst to Howel, I had come aboard the prize with Sam. I was tired of being left behind, and Sam agreed to take me with him. He and I both knew that no one would mess with me when he was by my side. I watched as a sailor from the
Bird
who’d been forced to join the pirates told Howel hurriedly what had transpired in his absence.

The sailor couldn’t have been older than eighteen, and his dark eyes were brimming with fear as he described the fate of one of his fellow sailors at the hands of Cocklyn. “Cap’n Cocklyn ordered ‘im to climb into the shrouds and let out the fore topsail sheet, and when ‘e wasn’t quick enough about it, the Cap’n had ‘im shot, and then sent the boatswain into the shrouds after ‘im to finish ‘im off with a cutlass.”

Howel swore violently, his jaw clenched in a fury. With his cutlass drawn, he bellowed for his comrade. “Cocklyn, you barbarous villain! Show yourself!”

Cocklyn emerged from the cabin, cutlass in hand, his fat face nearly purple with rage. Levasseur came out behind him, his eyes darting between the two pirate captains as they approached each other. Cocklyn grimaced, revealing gaps where there should have been teeth. “What do ye dare call me, Davies? A barbarous villain, am I?”

Howel glared at Cocklyn, a deadly expression on his face. “‘Tis the law of the sea, that those who do not fight will be given good quarter, and those prisoners will not be abused after quarter given.”

Cocklyn spat on the deck, wiped his mouth with his hand, and replied, “The dogs tried to defend their ship. I had it in me right to punish ‘em.”

Howel fumed, “Am I not commodore here? You should have come to me, for only I have the right to decide if one of our captives has done wrong.”

Cocklyn, who was already purple in the face, became livid at this. He held out his cutlass, ready to fight. “Davies, ye cockerel, ye overstep the bounds of yer authority…”

I saw Howel’s grip tighten around his cutlass while Cocklyn came closer, and the two pirates began to circle each other as their crews cleared a way for the fight. I felt myself struggling to breathe, and Sam clamped a hand down on my shoulder.

It was Levasseur who intervened, pushing Cocklyn’s cutlass aside and draping an arm around him. He flashed his oily smile at Howel, his hand outstretched in supplication. “Come now,
mes amis, mes frères!
There is no need for this animosity among us.” He tightened his grip around Cocklyn’s shoulders in warning, looking at Cocklyn meaningfully. “We fight for the same things, no?”

Cocklyn lowered his weapon grudgingly, and Howel lowered his in turn, his face solemn. “I think not, La Buse,” Howel said, calling Levasseur by his nickname. He turned to Cocklyn’s men. “Where are the prisoners? Where is this Captain Snelgrave?”

The prisoners were brought before Howel, and standing before Captain Snelgrave, Howel said gravely, “I am ashamed, Captain, at how you have been used by Captain Cocklyn and his men.” He cast a disapproving eye on the pirates who stood by, lingering on Levasseur and Cocklyn. “They forget that our reasons for going on the account are to revenge ourselves on base merchants and cruel commanders of ships. As for you, Captain Snelgrave, there is not one of your crew, even those who have joined us, that speaks ill of you, and it is clear from the respect they show you that they love you. I believe the reason for your ill-usage is because you attempted to defend your ship against Cocklyn, and I blame him entirely for it. Had I been the one to take your ship, and had you defended your ship against me, I would have doubly valued you for it.”

Howel paused, looking directly at his fellow pirate captains, even though he still spoke to Snelgrave. “I am not in partnership with them. I will say no more at present, but I hope they will now use you kindly, give you necessities, and return what of yours is left undestroyed.”

I was surprised to see Levasseur and Cocklyn swallow Howel’s harsh words against them without a peep. I thought for sure he would find himself in a stand-off with the two brutal pirate captains. When Levasseur invited Howel and Snelgrave to join Cocklyn and him for drinks in the cabin, I turned to Sam in confusion.

“Why do they tolerate this? They could destroy him,” I whispered urgently to Sam.

Sam looked down at me and smiled. “In their hearts, they hate Howel Davis, but they dread his resentment, for they know how valuable he is to them. They believe tolerating him will bring them many more riches.”

I glanced at the closed door of the cabin. “I’m going in.”

“I do not think that is a good idea,
nwanyi
,” Sam replied.

“What if I go in under the guise of taking something to them?” I asked. “Give me some liquor, something to take in with me.”

Sam found me two bottles of wine to take in to the captains, and while he shook his head and muttered something in
Igbo
, I crept to the door, opened it slowly, and slipped in.

They hardly noticed me, the slight cabin boy who stood in the shadows along the bulkhead. Levasseur briefly glanced in my direction, seeing nothing but a pirate lad bringing more liquor, and turned back to his colleagues. They had opened a bottle of French brandy and were toasting each other, particularly Howel, who was looking somewhat appeased by Levasseur and Cocklyn’s deference to him. They also drank to James Stuart the “Pretender” and cursed King George, calling him a “cuckoldy dog.”

Then Levasseur said, “Come, gentlemen! Let us go ashore and visit some native ladies, shall we?” He turned to Snelgrave. “You have a chest of coats here that we wish to use, Captain. If you would be so kind as to retrieve it for us.”

Snelgrave pulled a chest from under the bunk, which the pirates opened. Inside were three embroidered coats, and Levasseur pulled them out and handed one each to Cocklyn and Howel. The three pirates then slipped into the coats and laughed, complimenting each other and jesting. Only Cocklyn, whose coat was clearly too big for him and hung down to his ankles, seemed unhappy, saying, “Here now! Me coat is too long for me. Davies, trade with me, will ye?”

Howel’s expression was fiendish as he said, “Nay, Cocklyn, and why would you want to? The native ladies have no knowledge of white men’s fashion, so ‘tis of no consequence. Besides, your coat is by far the most beautiful, so you will have your pick of them, no?”

“Aye,” Levasseur agreed, glancing at Howel in conspiracy. “Look at how the scarlet color and the beautiful silver embroideries compliment you… The ladies will swarm you!”

Cocklyn grumbled a bit as the three of them began to leave the cabin. I stood still against the bulkhead, hardly breathing, wondering if Howel truly intended to visit the local brothels, when he turned to me, motioning to me.

He had known I was there all the long.

I stepped forward, and he took my arm, leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Will you meet me on the beach in half a glass?”

I nodded mutely and he turned to follow Levasseur and Cocklyn off the ship. Shortly after they left, I convinced Sam to come with me to the shore. It was dark now, and the air was thick with the African steam as Sam and I rowed a small boat past the mangrove swamps to the beach. Once there, I scanned the horizon anxiously for Howel while Sam relaxed against a palm. I heard him chuckle.

“So the
nwanyi
from the future and the cunning pirate are in love, then?” he said, smiling in the dark at me, his teeth flashing.

I glanced at Sam then quickly looked away, a lump in my throat. I was thinking how I should answer when I saw a shadowy figure standing in the palm groves. I knew it was him, and with a wave to Sam I began to trudge up the beach. Under the palms, I squinted to see his face as I approached him. His breathing came softly and his eyes glistened at me as he reached for me. With his arms tight around me, Howel groaned and buried his face in my neck.

“Sabrina,” he said, almost in a whisper. I could hear the agony in his voice, the torment. “I need you.”

I bit my lip, squeezed my eyes shut, inhaled his scent. I wanted to tell him that working with Levasseur and Cocklyn was destroying him, that he had to end his partnership with them. I wanted to remind him that he was creeping further and further down the African coast, closer and closer to Prince Island. I wanted to beg him to stop, to run away with me…

But I said none of those things. Instead, I held his head against me, caressed his face. I let him pull me down into the sand and make love to me, his kisses demanding, desperate. I curled against him in the hot, muggy night, our skin sticking together, and listened to his even breathing, the beat of his heart, feeling helplessly pulled along by something so much bigger than the both of us.

Chapter Thirty-Three

  I had no way of knowing what would happen. The space between the beginning and the end of Howel’s pirate career was filled with vague references of notoriety and successful captures by deceit, and I found myself cursing the author of
Rovers of the Sea
for not having written more about Howel’s life.

  That being said, I didn’t know whether any of it would have been accurate anymore, since I hoped I affected the events of his life enough to change the ultimate outcome.

I hoped.

In the meantime, I kept myself out of the way, watching as Howel fought to keep discipline among his ever-growing crew. He had no control over the men of Levasseur or Cocklyn, but tried his damnedest to maintain control over his gang of pirates. I could see the stress in his face as, with each capture, he struggled to ensure that the captives were not abused, that the cargo not wasted. I worried for him, feeling helpless, impotent. On certain evenings, when the three pirate captains would dress up and go ashore to find local women, I would secretly meet Howel on some isolated strand of beach. Concealed by the shadows of the palms, we would come together impatiently, unable to get enough of each other, knowing that until such an opportunity presented itself again, we would have to ignore one another, act as though the other didn’t exist.

We didn’t speak about the things we
should
have been speaking about. He knew what I would say, and I knew he didn’t want to hear it. In the nights we shared, we talked about 2011 – about the things that existed then, about things he wouldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. It took his mind off of his problems, off of the issues at hand. His eyes would widen, and he would smile, laugh even, and forget about everything. If only for a few moments, he was the carefree sailor from before, not the notorious pirate whose name was on everyone’s lips.

He particularly liked the idea of the television. He said, “I would sit before it all the day, eat that – what did you say it was called?”

“Fast food,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Aye,” he nodded. “Eat that fast food. Me arse would get fat in no time.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “There’s no way. You? You don’t know how to live a life that isn’t fraught with danger.” My smile faded. “You’d be very unhappy.”

He looked at me, smiling, tugging on a strand of my hair teasingly. “You’re most likely right. I suppose you’ll simply have to stay here with me then.”

I suddenly felt a stab of sadness. Why did people have to be so difficult? Amazing, how when my life was good and I had everything a woman could want, it wasn’t enough. I’d had a loving husband who was there for me, a child, and a life of my own, and yet I was dissatisfied, longing for excitement, or a change, or something elusive. And now that I had those things – excitement, uncertainty, and a man I would never truly have… it sucked. All I wanted was stability, comfort, all those things I had taken for granted before.