Assassin's Honor (9781561648207) (26 page)

I'd known Winn for years and could well imagine the scene.
He was a good man, and not the type to put up with Gardiner's antics.

“Well, sir, according to Gardiner, it seems his interview with Commander Winn lasted a grand total of three minutes and was not amiable. Winn then told his duty officer to write out transit orders for Gardiner to leave Key West as soon as possible for Navy Headquarters in Washington by any means available.”

“So Gardiner alienated yet another senior officer, who was glad to be rid of him.”

“Yes, sir. Here's where it gets really interesting. The station duty officer, that young lieutenant who just started got transferred in, got the message quite loudly and clearly from his boss. Well, as luck would have it, ten minutes earlier, this lieutenant had heard on the docks that
Olivette
—docked next door—was just about to leave, heading north on a special unscheduled transit, before heading south to her usual next port at Havana. It seemed to be the perfect solution to his problem. He told Gardiner about what he'd learned and suggested he present his orders to the
Olivette
and tell them the U.S. Navy would reimburse them for his passage.”

“Smart lieutenant.”

“Indeed, sir. Once Gardiner got aboard and the steamer had departed, he met Dr. Cano in the first-class salon and they had some drinks together. Dr. Cano told him
Olivette
was only heading north far enough to find
Bennington
so he could get a ride to Tampa, and she would turn and head straight for Havana right afterward. So now Gardiner had no option but to come aboard
Bennington
or end up in Cuba.”

“Amazing,” I said to myself. “I'm afraid to ask, but is there anything more?”

“That's pretty much it, sir. And Commander Gardiner is not amused by being back aboard. He's angry at Cano, who he says was drunk in the first-class bar, and at
Olivette
's people for misleading him. Oh, one more thing, sir. When he came up our Jacob's ladder, somebody in the crew made a disparaging remark.
We don't know who. Anyway, Gardiner demands to see you immediately, sir.”

I waited thirty seconds, willing myself to calm down, then said, “Show him in.”

“Captain Wake, I want to speak to you in private,” said Gardiner the moment he entered. The arrogant tone instantly eliminated what little calm I had remaining.

“First of all, I don't care about anything you
want
, Commander Gardiner. Secondly, you will stand at attention and remain that way for the duration of this interview, which will be short. Thirdly, Lieutenant Commander Warfield is the executive officer of this ship and he will stay. Now, present your travel orders.”

He did, with a sour expression. They were standard, except for one addendum—the words “expedite” and “by any means available” were included in a request for travel assistance from any naval, military, or federal officers.

“You are back aboard this ship due to exigent circumstances, Commander Gardiner. We will be arriving in Tampa this morning and you will immediately disembark the moment the gangway or gig is lowered. Until then your gear will be sent to Lieutenant Commander Warfield's former cabin from when he was navigator, and you may rest there.” I turned to Warfield. “Present my regrets to Mr. Lambert, and tell him he will bunk in with another officer of his choice.”

“Aye, sir.”

Back to Gardiner. “Remember, you are merely an officer in transit and will have no duties or authority in this ship. There is no need for you to be anywhere other than in that cabin, or in the wardroom for meals. Understood?”

“Am I under arrest . . . 
sir
?”

“No, not yet. However, your behavior aboard will influence my decision on the issue.”

The sour look morphed into a sneer. “Captain Wake, this is completely unwarranted and contrary to the dignity of an officer
of my rank, and I officially protest in the presence of this witness. I want my protest documented in the ship's log right now. I also intend to file formal charges against you when I arrive in Washington. You are warned, sir, not to abuse me any further.”

“Request regarding the log entry is denied. Your intention to file charges is duly noted, and welcomed, by me. I can't wait to testify, though I will have to wait my turn in a long line. Anything else?”

“Yes, there is quite a lot else, sir. That . . . that . . . that damned Cuban
pal
of yours . . . 
bribed
the steamer's captain to dump us off with you. How does someone like him get passage on a United States warship? And not only that, but during the entire voyage from Key West he got drunk in the bar, drinking rum and singing ribald songs—in front of gentlemen in the first-class bar!”

Cano didn't seem under the influence at all when he came aboard. I had experience in the matter and would've been able to tell. But still, a devout Methodist drinking in a bar? I wondered if my daughter, the temperance princess, knew her beau allowed alcohol to pass his lips. Maybe the fellow wasn't so bad.

More importantly, Cano had kept his mouth shut about knowing Useppa and me. Evidently, Gardiner thought Cano was an intelligence operative. So be it.

“Really, so he was drinking rum? Which rum was he drinking?” I asked with mock horror. I couldn't help it. This was the one bright spot in my day. Besides, you can tell a lot about a man by the rum he drinks.

Gardiner didn't understand the sarcasm, but Warfield struggled to suppress a chuckle. “You know very well how those kind of people are. It was some sort of rotgut rum from Cuba. He had the rest of them drinking it too.”

“Matusalem?” It is the finest sipping rum of Cuba, which means the finest in the world. It also happens to be my favorite. Rork's too.

“Yes, that's the name of it,” grumbled Gardiner, who then
huffed, “
True
gentlemen know to drink only a small gin, especially in a fine establishment, but Cano had them all swilling rum and howling those wretched songs.”

Well, well, points for Cano. The man had depth and understood cuisine.

“Fascinating story, Gardiner. Now, is that all? Or is there more whining? I'm tired.”

“No, it's not all! Oh, I can assure you the truth will be told when I get to headquarters, and the highest authorities will hear of your transgressions! Charges will just keep adding up, Captain.”

Obviously, Gardiner thought his threat would impress me. It didn't. I'd had internecine battles with far more devious and ruthless officers than he. It was time to deflate his hot air.

“And you, no doubt, will have great glee in telling everyone in Washington all about my many transgressions. Good. I suggest you start with the senior admiral of the navy. He gets whiners like you all the time. You'll find him on the second deck of the State, War, and Navy building. It's the very plush office in the northeast corner. You'll have to make an appointment, but it shouldn't be a problem for an officer and gentlemen of your high caliber and influence. Or perhaps I should write a memorandum requesting you get an audience?”

Angered beyond words, a condition I was rapidly approaching myself, Gardiner stammered out something negative. He was about to resume his tirade when I resumed mine.

“But while you are here, Commander Gardiner, there will be no further whining. You've had your say, and now you will do precisely as I say. That is all. Lieutenant Commander Warfield, you will now escort him to his temporary quarters.”

When the door closed, I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. Tired as I was, my mind's agitation wouldn't let rest come now. Instead, it swerved off course and conjured up the image of Cano joking and singing in
Olivette
's first-class bar,
amongst the white tie set, who were probably all drunk as coots and warbling right along. Except, of course, for Commander Norton Gardiner, officer and gentleman of the United States Navy.

Warfield returned a few minutes later. “Got Gardiner in my old cabin, sir, and he's still fuming. He's going to include me now in the complaint about the conspiracy against him. The Cano fella's stretched out on the settee in the wardroom. He didn't seem drunk to me. Said he had two glasses to be friendly. Also said he did teach some folk songs—his terminology—to the other gentlemen in the bar.”

“Gardiner's against anyone who isn't Boston Brahmin. Just ignore him. Listen, I'd hoped to get right into downtown Tampa, but the wind's been too steady and strong out of the north and northeast. It's certainly lowered water levels in the upper part of Hillsborough Bay. That channel up into the Hillsborough River at the city of Tampa is shallow and narrow anyway—now it'll be too low, even for us.”

“Anchor out and row the gig in, sir?”

“I thought about that, but no, we'd have to anchor too far out, at least two or three miles out. Instead, we're going to head to the new docks over at Port Tampa on the west side.” I spread out a chart of Tampa Bay. “Let's go over it.”

“I've never been in there. Is there a government wharf we can use there, sir? I thought it was all commercial docks.”

“Yes, it is all commercial docks. And we're going to barge our way in and moor at one of them.”

Warfield's face clouded in concern. “That'll be trouble, sir.”

I shrugged. “Put it on the list.”

“Isn't that pretty far from Tampa by land, sir? On the chart it looks like eight miles or so. Long walk.”

“Good point. Yes, it's almost ten miles from the riverfront docks downtown. But there's a railway from Port Tampa northeast to downtown Tampa, and another from downtown Tampa the two miles out to Ybor City, where Martí will be.”

“How can you get a train at three in the morning, though? Won't they'll all be closed down for the night?”

“Rork and I will find a way,” I stated flatly.

Tampa Bay, Florida

Before dawn, Friday

16 December 1892

Two pairs of double gongs of the bell sounded—meaning 2 a.m.—and the junior officer of the middle watch dutifully turned the hourglass. The quartermaster noted the sea and sky conditions in the logbook, the lookouts rotated their positions, and the bosun of the watch, Rork, prowled the main deck, looking for anything amiss or anyone not ready for what was about to be expected of them.

We could barely see ahead and around us in the cloudy gloom of a quarter-moon as we charged northward, two miles off the beach of Anna Maria Island. Ahead lay the channel through the shoals of Passage Key Inlet, shallowest of the three broad entryways into the vast expanse of Tampa Bay. The only problem was to find it. I remembered well the same feeling from thirty years earlier, only then it was wartime and there was an enemy involved.

A look at the two sets of running lights four miles astern made me wonder—did I once again have an enemy in this same place? A far more sinister and ruthless one?

“Bridge there!” hailed a disembodied voice from aloft. “I see the end of this island up ahead. It's two points off the starboard bow. I think I see a house on the point. Another small island is about a mile off to the north of the point.”

That made sense. The north end of Anna Maria Island curved around to the northwest, with Passage Key a mile northeast of the point.

Lambert, the officer of the deck since midnight, approached me on the starboard bridge wing. “Sir, foremast lookout reports . . .”

“Yes, I heard him, Mr. Lambert. Thank you. We're getting close, and will be slowing and turning soon. Get your bridge and deck people ready and alert the engine room there may be quick bell changes for gears and turns.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

I glanced inside the wheel house. By the Dante-esque illumination of the small red night lantern, I saw Warfield hunched over the chart, measuring our speed against his watch by moving a set of dividers. He shook his head and chuckled as he caught sight of me watching him. “No less than sixteen and a half knots average! She's hot tonight, sir.”

“That she is. Let's keep her from getting high and dry too.”

My quip got the hoped-for laugh from Warfield and the men. I beckoned him outside. “Steam pressure still doing well?”

“Yes, sir. Still steady at one hundred thirty-eight to one hundred forty on all four boilers.”

I nodded, then took the night glass and studied the small wooded island on the starboard bow, explaining to him as I peered through the night, “There is Passage Key. Damn, the ebb is very low and still flowing out. There's a new quarter-moon so we'll have even more serious low water, in addition to the wind factor on the tide. Could be too low. If Passage Key Inlet looks
too dicey when we get close in to the first bar, then we'll back away and shift course to the bell buoy at Southwest Channel, then go through there.”