Pieces of Hate (A Wendover House Mystery Book 4) (3 page)

I remembered the story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The
Mary Celeste
had been abandoned by her
crew mid-meal and none of them were ever found. Most everyone assumed that they
had been killed.

“You think
Halfbeard
murdered the crew when
he robbed them? But wouldn’t that be unusual since they surrendered? And why
wouldn’t he keep the ship, even if just to sell later?” My brain leapt to a
lurid conclusion, not awaiting Ben’s answer.
“Because of the
curse?
Maybe his men wouldn’t stay onboard to sail her?”

“Maybe.
Or they were afraid of the disease
that infected them. Maybe his men refused to sail a pestilent ship. Or he
simply didn’t have the crew to spare since he had to leave Tortuga de Mar so
hastily. Obviously he didn’t hole her or set her afire, which would have been
standard practice if he wanted a ship to disappear.”

“But you think
Halfbeard
killed the crew, even
if he didn’t touch the ship?” I insisted.

This bothered me though I knew it was silly to feel shame at what some
distant ancestor had done.

“Maybe they were already dead by then. It’s possible. It sounds as
though this so called monkey plague was a brisk one.” Ben cleared his throat
and began using what I think of as his storyteller’s voice. “Bad weather
attended them as they sailed north and half the crew deserted or were put into
hospitals when they put in at Charleston. I can’t find any record of what was
wrong with them. The doctor was baffled. It could have been scurvy coupled with
something else. Or … who knows? The doctor certainly didn’t. He had never heard
of monkey leprosy.”

“How long did it take to get to Charleston from Florida?”

“Only days.
As I said,
whatever disease was onboard the
Concepcion
,
it was highly contagious. And here is the odd part, the sailors were all listed
as indigents and ended up in pauper’s graves, their corpses smothered with
quicklime. This was a method for dealing with plague victims and also criminals,
though there was no mention of the doctor knowing that these men were pirates.
I think he did this as a health measure. And it worked because none of the
nurses or servants who cleaned the hospital got sick.”

I thought about this.

“
Halfbeard
wouldn’t have paid for his crew’s
medical care or to have them buried? But why, when he had money?” This wasn’t
as silly as it sounded. Captains usually looked after loyal crew. It made it
easier to find willing sailors if the captain was fair.

“He sailed before the men died. Whatever the treasure was, it wasn’t standard
gold or silver or jewels—or at least the sick didn’t bring anything of value
with them when they came on land. I think maybe they refused to bring anything.
Maybe they thought they could beat the curse and get better if they got away
from the ship and did not keep the treasure.”

“But they died anyway.”

“And the storm never ceased while the
Calmare
was in port.”

I thought about this. Under my blouse my arms were chilled and the
hairs were standing on end.

“They talked about the bad weather in Charleston?” Weather bad enough
to mention and write down was bad weather indeed.

“Yes. It was an odd storm that covered only half the town. Like I
said, I’m speculating here, but we know for sure that the fast-moving storm
followed them up the coast and into Charleston. And then it moved on. It’s
noted in every port city where they stopped—stopped, but did not disembark. The
storm definitely seemed to come and go with the
Calmare
.”

“That’s … creepy.”

“Finally they made it to our islands and the storm ended. Just cut
off.”

I exhaled. Caught up in the story, it was easy to imagine a battle of
supernatural forces. Of course, it was more likely that the tropical storm just
blew itself out. I needed to stop scaring myself. People back then looked first
to supernatural explanations, but that didn’t mean I had to.

“And
Halfbeard
somehow met Abercrombie’s
daughter and convinced her to marry him?” I sounded incredulous.

Ben nodded.

“This is where I am lacking documentation.” Another barnacle came
loose and shot across the floor. Kelvin ignored it but Barney galloped after
it. I took it away at once, picking it up in a tea towel so I wouldn’t have to
touch it. I really needed to get some new tennis balls. I’d call Mrs. Sibley
and see if she could add that to Tuesday’s delivery.

“I wish I had a portrait of the man. His affect was said to be
striking. And this was just five years before Blackbeard made his way into
villainy’s hall of fame. I don’t know why history liked him better. Maybe it
was the flaming hair. The man had a knack for drama.”

“There is no portrait?
Before or after his
accident?”
I asked and Ben grimaced.

“Not unless you have one in the house. Anyhow, he married two weeks
later and then he turned the
Calmare
over to Darby and what was left of the crew. Two men
opted to remain in Maine on the mainland. The rest accepted the offer of
partnership in the
Calmare
.
Maybe they thought they were safe because the storm had stopped. Or because
Halfbeard
had whatever part of the treasure they thought
was cursed.”

“So they waved goodbye to Little Goose and sailed south, and sank almost
as soon as they were.…” I stopped.

“Out of the islands’ protection.
Yes. Makes a
good story, doesn’t it? I just need some kind of proof that
Halfbeard
was actually Nicholas Wendover. Don’t want people accusing me of slander
without any basis in truth even if I am writing fiction. And there is no
getting around the fact that this guy is a blot on the old family escutcheon.”

He didn’t mean me. The town folk tended to be touchy though.
Especially when the stories were true.
I didn’t think they
would like this tale regardless of his proofs.

“The family is nothing but blots.”

Ben grinned.

“That’s true, but this guy actually went out and earned his bad
reputation.”

“I’ll look again for letters or a journal.” Ben
was
always wanting
me to look for stuff. I understood. Our library was a
treasure trove of information and local scandal. “There are still piles of
books I need to go through. Maybe he kept a captain’s log. If something’s there
I’ll find it,” I promised, feeling vaguely enthused. I love doing research and
maybe this would give me something for my blog.

“I doubt—” But whatever he was skeptical about wasn’t mentioned. The
box popped open, almost as if it were spring-loaded, and we stared down at what
I thought were a pair of gold coins and some brown sticks.

“Jesus wept,” Ben breathed. He started to reach for the coins but
stopped himself. “Do you know what these are?”

“Gold doubloons,” I guessed.

“Close.
These are what are commonly called pieces
of eight.
Minted in Mexico and not Seville.
Regular
kind were
worth about eight shillings or say four hundred
and fifty bucks each.”

“These aren’t regular?”

“No. Pieces of eight were made of silver. There have been only a few
of these gold coins ever found and they have a rather sinister nickname.”

“What?”

“Pieces of hate.”

I stared at him.

“Why?”

“See those spear things?” He pointed but did not touch. I didn’t know
if this was to avoid getting oil on them
—
pristine coins are worth more to collectors than ones that have been
touched
—
or if he
simply didn’t want to touch the shiny bits of ill will. “They should have been
pillars, and on the other side, the lion has been replaced by a snake. The man
who minted them was supposedly some kind of descendant of an Incan wizard. He
sent the coins to the capitol as a kind of death threat. He also hated King
Phillip V, who was actually French. You have to remember that the French
pirates had been throwing their weight around down there almost as much as the
Spanish navy were and were just as hated. Anyway, supposedly those who received
the coins sickened and died. Of course, everyone sickened and died back then. Disease
was rampant. He didn’t last long in his career. They were still burning witches
back then and the superstitious bastards barbecued him after the standard
tortures.”

I shuddered, feeling ill, and wondered that Ben could sound so glib
when he spoke of such awful things.

“But they look so clean. And look at the box. The hinges aren’t
rusted. It can’t be that old.”

“Gold doesn’t tarnish,” Ben said slowly, but he began to frown.

“But they look so
new
. Can
they be real? Maybe they are reproductions. Are they dated?”

“The earliest coins have no date.” Ben exhaled. “I don’t know. I
wonder what those brown—oh.”

“What?”

“Don’t get upset. But those brown things are bones.”

I stared at them. They were bones.
Finger bones.
Very small finger bones.

“Oh God!
Not.…
”

“No!
No, of course not.
They are probably monkey
bones. They would have put the paw in as a … sort of talisman. Like a lucky
rabbit’s foot.”

“Monkey leprosy,” I muttered. “For
heavensake
,
close the box and don’t touch anything. I can’t believe it’s real.”
Except a part of me did believe it.
“But if it is, well, we
can’t risk contagion until it’s checked out.”

Ben closed the box. He looked pale. I guess the whole thing was
getting very real for him.

“Tess, monkey leprosy probably had nothing to do with monkeys or
leprosy. They weren’t medical geniuses back then. They just fixed blame on
whatever was handy.”

“I know. But let’s be safe, okay? You have open wounds on your hands.
In fact, you’d better wash them and get some antibiotic ointment on them. They
could get infected.”

The tea kettle finally began shrieking. I was glad of an excuse to
turn away from the box.

“Shouldn’t the bones have rotted?” I asked. “I mean we are talking
about something at least two hundred and fifty, maybe three hundred years old.
If it’s what you think it is.”

“Or older, so you would think so.
Tess?”

“Yes.” I busied myself with making the tea.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but would it be okay if I took these artifacts
to a friend at the maritime museum? He’s discreet and Michael knows a lot more
than I do about—everything. He will be able to date things so we can know what
we’re dealing with. I am probably just leaping to conclusions because I’m
caught up in research and want this box to belong to Nicholas Wendover. But this
could be anything. I mean, is it likely that a pirate would throw out gold
coins?”

If he was leaping to conclusions then I was diving right behind him. But
unlike Ben, I could easily imagine someone being willing to part with gold if
it would save their life.

Still, was this something I should let out of my sight? It seemed to
have been rather directed at me. And this box and its horrid contents were
probably worth a lot of money.

I looked at Ben. It is sometimes difficult to know a person when there
are lots of distractions around them, like an exotic career or lots of money.
But I had gotten pretty good at spotting the villains no matter what they
camouflaged themselves with and I didn’t think Ben was one of them.

“Fine by me.
At least for a little while.”
And I meant that. I wanted the
horrid box out of the house and off the island while I sorted out what to do. “You’ll
warn your friend about the bones and the sickness and everything?”

“Of course.”
Suddenly he abandoned
his gloom and broke into a grin.
“By God, Tess!
If this isn’t a hoax….
We’ll be making history. I’ll get a
bestseller out of it for sure. And you’ll be rich. Who knows what those coins
are worth! The last one was sold at auction back in the fifties and it went for
forty thousand.”

I nodded, trying to be enthused. It was difficult though. The storm
that had brought the box up on the beach had not been normal and the light
around it—probably some kind of Saint Elmo’s fire—had felt unnatural. The story
behind the box was also pretty awful and involved supernatural agencies.
Assuming the box and my ancestor pirate were related to one another, and I had
a bad feeling that they were. How else would an Incan magician’s
pieces of hate
get to Maine?

Something began to nibble on the back of my brain.

“Ben, when did you say the boat sank?”

“The
Calmare
?
During the night on either
September ninth or early on the tenth.”