Ill Wind and Dead Reckoning: Caribbean Pirate Adventure (Valkyrie) (14 page)

‘Sail oh! To East’ard! No colours!’

I looked up at the shout from the tops, grabbed my telescope, and jumped into the ratlins to see for myself. We were heading north past the islands of Martinico and Dominico and it was probably nothing – these waters were full of merchant ships – but I also knew that made them ideal hunting grounds for pirates.

I trained my glass to the east and could see topsails – a twinmaster, fully canvassed, still with no flag flying. That in itself meant very little, most ships only flew their colours when they met another at sea or were approaching landfall. Merchantmen of the same nationality would take the opportunity to meet with their countrymen and swap news. Merchantmen of differing nationalities would keep well clear of each other for fear of attack.

‘Break out the Cross of Burgundy,’ I said, and our Spanish colours unfurled at the main-masthead and snapped in the stiff breeze. I watched the other ship. Nothing. It was etiquette to reply with one’s own colours. I didn’t like this. I studied her again and realized she was carrying a little too much sail for the conditions. Whoever was on her quarterdeck was driving her hard and still showing no colours.

‘Bear off!’ I shouted, and jumped back down to the deck.

‘Set the topgallant!’

Every instinct screamed at me that the vessel was trouble. I
could not
lose my ship on my first voyage as captain. I needed speed and for that I needed canvas. Setting the highest sail on the mainmast would put the rig under a lot of strain in this wind, but I was sure she could take it. We could well be in a race for our lives.

Pinta
slowly turned westward, downwind – our fastest point of sailing – and men swarmed up the mainmast whilst others trimmed the rest of the sails on my three-masted command. We were bigger, with a longer waterline, and we had a good chance of outrunning the smaller vessel, as long as the masts stood firm with the extra canvas. But I was painfully aware that
Pinta
was built to carry cargo, and if that
was
a pirate ship astern, she would be fitted and rigged for speed.

*

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment to rid them of salt, then looked aft at the vessel behind. There was no doubt now that she was chasing us; she had adjusted her own course and was dead astern. She was still too far behind to affect our wind, but she was gaining and there was little I could do about it. I still hoped she was friendly, but realized there was little chance, and my worst fears were confirmed when she finally showed her colours. A plain red flag. La Jolie Rouge. Pirates – and the worst kind. Those that flew black offered quarter and would spare the lives of a crew that surrendered to them. Those that flew red offered none. They’d force the strongest and fittest men to join their own crew, and would likely torture and kill everyone else just for the sport of it.

We were in big trouble.

‘Harden up!’

Pinta
turned and the crew ran to sheets and braces to haul the sails around. I watched the pirates. They copied my manoeuvre, staying between us and the wind. I kept watching. Damn it, she was faster.

‘Bear off!’

We turned back downwind.

‘Lighten ship! Cargo overboard!’

My crew ran to obey. We would make no money from this voyage, but we were beyond profit now – we had to do everything we could just to escape with our lives, and a lighter ship was a faster ship.

Barrels of cacao and coffee littered our wake, but the pirates were relentless and crashed through both wave and cask. They were gaining.

I watched the topsails – the most powerful sails on the ship – and cursed as their canvas rippled. The pirates were close enough to steal our wind. If we kept this course, they’d be on us in minutes.

‘Harden up!’

‘Haul braces!’

It was our only chance, even though I already knew it wouldn’t work.

‘Ready the guns!’

We had no choice but to fight. I looked at my decks and my crew of thirty men; then looked aft again. That vessel might be smaller, but there’d likely be over a hundred men crammed on to her decks and many more guns. I looked up at her masthead again and the bloody flag that flew there. There could be no surrender. It was time to start praying in earnest.

I ducked, as did everyone else on my decks. It had been a warning shot; the ball hit the water ahead of us. That meant they wanted the ship; they weren’t going to sink us. That was something. If I was right.

The roar of the cannon died away, and I became aware of another noise, just as terrifying: a slamming of a hundred steel blades against the wooden rail of a ship, accompanied by the chanting of a hundred men.

‘Kill! Kill! Kill! Blood! Blood! Blood! Die! Die! Die!’

They were almost alongside. My belly knotted in fear and I felt sick. Every weapon aboard was in the hands of my suddenly insignificant crew. We each had a pistol and a cutlass. Some of us had a dagger too. My two best shots, Mendez and the Portuguese Juaquim, had half a dozen muskets each up on the main- and foretops.

The pirates outnumbered us by more than three to one. They each had two, and in some cases four, pistols draped around their necks on wide silk ribbons. They had blades in hand, and more were stuck into the red, black or blue sashes wrapped around their waists. They had boarding axes and marlin spikes, chains, clubs and grappling hooks.

We had no chance.

I looked up at the bloody flag.

We had to fight.

‘Now!’

Both my larboard cannon, loaded with cannonball, fired into the pirate ship – we had one chance to sink them. At this range we couldn’t miss – and did not.

They answered with their own cannon, and I realized they had loaded partridge shot. They didn’t care if they lost their ship; I’d been right, they weren’t trying to sink
Pinta
, they wanted to take and keep her. The small lead balls and bits of metal they fired were designed to kill men, not send our ship to the bottom. At least
Pinta
was bigger than their own vessel; maybe they would keep most of my men on as crew.

They wouldn’t want me, though. That captain wouldn’t want another on his crew to challenge him. Killing me would be the first thing he’d do to dominate my men.

Should I surrender, despite the flag? Hope he’ll want my men? Maybe save some lives?

I looked around the decks and at the strained faces. Would they surrender if I asked them to?

‘We fight, Captain.’

I looked at Frazer, my Scottish first mate, who had spoken. One look at his face, and I knew he was right. We would fight.

The pirates’ chant stopped and was replaced with a blood-curdling scream and volley of pistol shot, which sent my men crashing to the decks to avoid being hit. Grappling hooks flew through the air into
Pinta’s
rigging, and men flew on the attached lines. My crew scrambled back to their feet to meet them.

Musket shot rang out from both tops and men fell. Mendez screamed all the way to the deck. Juan, my second mate, was hit as he stood at my side. Blood spurted over my face. He was dead before he could complete his cry of pain.

Pinta’s
decks were full of men overwhelming her wooden boards. After the first volley of shots, it was too hard to distinguish pirate from Spaniard, and all I could hear was the clash of metal blade on metal blade; the thump of cutlass against flesh; screams of triumph, fear and pain.

I ducked and slashed my swordarm upwards to fend off the blade heading towards my head. I staggered backwards and thrust the dagger in my left hand forward into the man’s stomach. He fell.

I turned to meet the next challenge and gasped. My hesitation was nearly fatal, but I recovered my wits enough to fight off the man trying to kill me. He fell.

I spun back to look for the face I had recognized in the melee. Yes, it
was
him. Captain Richard Tarr. He was here, on my decks! This was my chance. I raised my still unfired pistol.

I never saw the man who hit me. One moment I had Tarr in my sights, the next I hit the rail and was falling overboard.

I surfaced, coughing brine, and watched my stricken ship, my crew, and my chance at revenge sail and fight on without me.

I was in the sea for days, clinging to one of the casks that had recently been my cargo, and more than once thought that was it. If I didn’t die of the sun and lack of water, I’d be eaten alive by the beasts living in my new home. I saw countless dark triangular fins heading towards me, as straight and true and
fast
as any ball that had been fired at
Pinta
but, when they reached me, instead of teeth, there was an overwhelming blackness, and I’d jerk awake once again, almost crying with relief until I realized that only part of my nightmare was a dream.

Eventually, I felt sand under my feet instead of water, but still didn’t trust my senses. Even though I’d seen the island intermittently over the last day or so, I hadn’t believed my eyes, and had thought it part of another nightmare; slipping in and out of the early morning mist in front of my eyes, one minute there, then gone. Tantalising me, giving hope just to strip it away again.

I knew I’d been lucky to have drifted on to the beach; if I’d had more faith in myself and believed in what was right in front of me, I could have got here much faster, but I didn’t care. I was out of my watery grave.

*

I lay on the beach, too tired to move, overpoweringly thirsty, and realized I could hear another sound over the heartbeat of the waves – a splashing, not a pulsing
, a river? Fresh water?

I slowly got to my feet, the wind cold on my body, and walked; legs and arms feeling as heavy as cannonball. Soon my legs were shaking with the effort. It was ridiculous; I was a grown man, a strong man of the sea, and I was staggering along the beach like a babe, lurching from one step to another.
Just how long have I been adrift?

*

Eventually, I reached the line of trees and shade, but instead of getting easier away from the relentless sun, the going got worse. The undergrowth seemed to cling to my bare feet, trying to hold me back, and I sat down, my back against a palm tree, and rested. It was just as well; sitting there in silence I realized the sound I was following was echoing off the cliffs I could just about make out through the canopy of green. I’d been about to head off in the wrong direction.

Once more full of doubt, I dallied with myself, thinking again that I was imagining things; there was no water. I’d reached land, surrounded by the water with which I’d chosen to share my life, and it had killed me. Frustrated and despairing, I banged my head against the bole of the palm behind me, the pain reminding me I was still alive, and it was up to me to make sure I stayed that way.

I went to push myself upright again and saw plants off to my side – ananás. Three of them nestled, cocooned and protected inside a shield of spiky leaves – and I realized I was going to live.

Desperately, I fumbled for my sheath knife with swollen fingers and cut into the ripe fruit. The cloying, sickly sweetness took my breath away, although it didn’t manage to eradicate the taste of brine. Halfway through the second fruit I started retching, throwing away the only food I had eaten in . . . I don’t know how long. Once the heaving was over, I cut open another fruit. This time I just sucked the juice and managed to keep it down.

With renewed hope, I set off again to find the river.

*

The sound I’d heard was from a waterfall, and the pool beneath looked big enough to swim in. After only just escaping from swimming to my death such a short time ago, I desperately wanted to be immersed in water again.
Heaven – no salt!
I drank as much as I swam, and finished up sitting under the waterfall, being sluiced with fresh clean water. It washed the old me away; washed the old memories away, but it couldn’t wash away the image of Tarr’s face on my decks. I renewed my oath of vengeance. I’d tried living well and honestly, and he’d killed that life – again. It was time to fight back. To take what I wanted. To do things differently.

By my reckoning
,
I’d been alone a week and hadn’t seen any sail. Not a single one. I looked at the unlit fire I’d built on the beach, and fingered the flint that had survived my swim tied to my breeches. I was ready, but if there was no sail, this beacon was useless.
Will I spend the rest of my life here?

I looked around. It wasn’t so bad really. I had plenty of fresh water and fruit. There were birds, fish and turtle in abundance. I could survive here. But I needed people, and I needed to settle my debt with Tarr and his men. I needed to get off this island.

I stared out to sea again, and swept the horizon with my glass. Nothing. If I was going to get back out into the world, it would be up to me. I’d have to build a boat.

I turned and studied the treeline. The only blade I had was my three-inch sheath knife; I had to get this right first time. So, I had a choice to make:
do I start felling the palm trees near the shore to make a raft; or one of the sturdier cedar trees further inland and hollow out a canoe?

Both options would be hard work, but which would take longer? And which would be most likely to keep me afloat once I headed back out into the waves?

I thought the cedar might be best – it was what the Carib Indians used, after all. It would be sturdier and more seaworthy than a raft, but it would take a lot of hewing to cut down and hollow out, and how would I get it to the beach?

I sat on the sand and lay back in the sun. I’d think on it. There was no point in starting the work until I’d formed a plan. I had only the one blade and it was small. I couldn’t waste it.

I closed my eyes.
Raft or canoe? Raft or canoe? Cedar or palms? How many palm trees will I need to cut down anyway?

*

‘Leo?’

I grunted and turned over on the sand.

‘Leo! Captain!’

I sat up quickly and blinked. This was cruel, to dream so vividly about Frazer and the others.

‘Leo? Are you well?’

Frazer reached out and grabbed my arm. I flinched. Dreams couldn’t do that, could they?

‘Frazer? Is that really you?’ My voice was hoarse from disuse.

‘Aye, Captain.’ He laughed – a rarity. ‘It’s me. Juaquim’s here too, and Alonso, Lopez and Rafael.’

He grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. I stared at the men, then staggered to the waterline and the pinnace that was hauled up on the sands.
A boat!

I turned back to Frazer.

‘How?’ I asked, unable to form a more coherent welcome.

*

Tarr’s men had
overpowered the crew quickly, and Frazer had followed my lead and jumped overboard; albeit with the forethought to cast off the pinnace’s line (the pinnace was the larger of the two boats we towed). He hung on to the line, hauled himself aboard, and picked up the others from the water. The six of us were the only survivors.

I’d known Frazer since I was little more than a boy; Luis had put him in charge of my welfare when I first went to sea. It had taken some time – he was a surly, bad-tempered bastard – but we’d become close friends over the years, and I’d learned to trust him with my life.

He’d insisted on following the current westwards to look for me, and they’d spent the past week visiting every cay in the vicinity. It appeared my washing up on the island had been more inevitability than luck after all – I’d drifted past two or three others.

*

‘There’s something else, Leo,’ Frazer said after we’d eaten a feast of turtle. I looked up in expectation.
I’ve lost my ship and most of my crew, what else can there be?

‘Juaquim?’ He looked at the topman, who nodded and quickly finished his mouthful of meat.

‘Sim
,
yes, Mr Frazer. Well,
as you know, I was in the tops and had a good view of the pirate deck,’ he began.

‘Yes, yes, I know,’ I said, impatient.

‘Well, I saw her.’

‘Who?’

‘Magdalena.’

I stared at him.

‘What do you mean you saw Magdalena? You can’t have, she’s dead.’

‘No, she isn’t. It was Tarr’s ship that took her, wasn’t it? Well, she’s still aboard. She looked well.’

I jumped to my feet, grabbed him by the neck of his shirt, and hauled his face close to mine.

‘Are you certain? Are you absolutely certain it was Magdalena?’

‘Sim
.
Yes. I’ve sailed for her family most of my life, I’d know her anywhere. It was Magdalena, for sure.’

I let go of him and staggered backwards.
She’s alive?
All this time I’d thought her dead, and she’s alive? What have I done? What has she lived through? And I abandoned her to her fate. Madre de Dios! Mother of God!

I looked at the men sat around the large fire.

‘We have to get her back,’ I said. ‘We have to go after Tarr.’

They stared at me.

‘You know that means sailing as pirates?’ Frazer asked. ‘We need a ship and a lot of guns, plus the men to fire them. We need to learn to fight at sea and fight well. It will take time.’

‘Sí, pirates,’ I said. ‘Will you help me? However long it takes?’

‘Aye, Leo, we’ll help you. We’ve nothing to lose and scores of our own to settle with that bastard and his crew.’

I looked at him and shook his hand, then did the same with the other men, and I realized they’d already decided to do this before they’d found me.

I grinned. ‘Pirates,’ I said again, and laughed. I had a future, and Magdalena would be in it.