Isle of Broken Years Read online

  Lucia had not been paying attention to the state of the war if she placed any trust in divine intervention. In Catalina’s opinion, the toss of a coin was as likely to be right. However, if Captain Giraldo and his men had won, someone would soon come to share the good news. And by the same token, the longer the wait went on, the worse the outlook was. Either way, hiding in the cabin was futile.

  Catalina put her hand on the door latch, but then heard voices—laughter and talking, too faint for her to make out the words. She strained her ears, hoping for Captain Giraldo’s bellow, a familiar voice, a phrase spoken in Spanish. Instead there were footsteps, coming closer. Another burst of harsh male laughter, but still no clue as to the victors. The footsteps paused in the passage outside.

  Catalina backed away. “Who’s there?”

  The door was flung back. Framed in the entrance were two men. Each had a pistol in his waistband and a sword at his side. Their shirts and breeches were disheveled and blood-splattered. One had a neckerchief knotted at his throat. The taller man had a scar running down the side of his face. Neither was a member of the crew.

  For a moment, nobody moved and then Lucia screamed.

  The scarred pirate stuck his hands on his hips, while a broad smile creased his face. He spoke in English. “Well. What have we here?”

  * * *

  The scene on deck was surprisingly similar to before. Everywhere, a riot of sailors made busy, some still flourishing swords, while others dug through storage lockers. Yet the atmosphere and the voices had changed. The mood was now one of celebration, and instead of Spanish, the sailors were speaking a mixture of English, German, and other languages Catalina did not know. Presumably, Dutch was one, but her parents had not included it in her otherwise comprehensive education.

  Other differences were also apparent. Streaks and puddles of blood stained the decking red. A knot of prisoners, two dozen or more, sat hunched in one corner, heads down. None met her eyes, although the faces were ones she knew—as were others, on bodies lying motionless, with frozen expressions and blank eyes.

  Catalina watched two pirates swing one corpse by hands and feet, then toss him overboard. The splash that followed was almost lost in the hubbub. Catalina tasted bile rising in her throat. Matias, that had been his name, she remembered. He had poured her wine the previous evening. Catalina summoned her courage. She would face her fate. Giving in to panic was not only unworthy, it was also pointless.

  Her captor raised his voice. “Hey, lads. Look what I’ve found!”

  At first, only a few heads turned in their direction. But there was no mistaking the reaction. Within seconds, silence swept across the deck; all motion stilled. And then, starting at the back, a wild chorus of cheering erupted, ending in laughter and shouts.

  “There was me thinking I’d have to wait till the next whorehouse.”

  More laughter.

  “Who gets first dibs?”

  “I’ll arm wrestle you.”

  “Careful. You don’t want to strain your wrist in case you don’t win.”

  “Nah. I think Mrs. Palm and her daughters will be having a rest tonight.” The laughter reached new heights, while the mob drew closer, forming a densely packed ring.

  Of course. What else would pirates do with women they captured? Catalina heard a wail. It was questionable how much Lucia understood—her English was weak—but the tones and expressions were unmistakable. Catalina tightened her jaw and drew her shoulders back. The blood of kings ran in her veins. She was a true daughter of Spain, who could trace her ancestors to El Cid, and beyond. Whatever else, she would not let this rabble see fear on her face. They deserved nothing but contempt, and that she would grant them, in abundance.

  A man on her left pawed at her, clamping a hand over her breast and squeezing. As calmly as she could, Catalina turned her head to bestow her iciest stare and was rewarded when he blushed and fell back, giving rise to the loudest burst of laughter yet.

  The braying faded to a rumble. Pirates shuffled aside, allowing a new man through—the captain, judging by the way others yielded their place in the front row. He was far from being the tallest man present, and his clothing would have shamed a shopkeeper, but he projected an air of command.

  Like his subordinates, the captain had a smile on his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. Catalina’s immediate impression was that this was a man who would always think, plan, and calculate. He was more dangerous for it, yet she found his arrival strangely comforting. He could be reasoned with, although when he spoke it was in parody.

  He swept off his hat and gave an exaggerated, low bow. “Madam, allow me to present your humble servant. Captain Edward Williams, at your service. But you can call me Ned.”

  “I am Doña Catalina de Valasco, daughter of Vizconde Pedro de Valasco. You can call me, your ladyship.”

  “You’re Spanish.” A statement, not a question.

  “And you’re English, although you sail under a Dutch flag.”

  “Yes. I admit I’d rather serve my country. Alas, my country’s not quite so keen on me. The Dutch West India Company is more generous with its letters of marque.”

  “The Dutch renegades are traitors, with no authority to issue those letters.”

  “I’ll pass on your opinion next time I’m in port, but I think they might disagree.”

  The matter was not worth arguing. The outcome would be decided by armies, not lone women prisoners. “What do you intend to do with me?”

  His smile did not falter, but something else flickered in his eyes. Was it regret or depravity? “I’m sorry, but the life of a sailor is hard, lacking in amusement. We must make the most of whatever we find. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I understand that you do not deserve to be counted as men, and trust the demons of hell will make you pay for your crimes, once you improve this world, by leaving it. I can only pray this happens soon.”

  “Indeed. Praying is the only option available to you.” Captain Williams nodded to the man holding Catalina’s arm. “Take her and the other one below deck and keep them safe. And I mean that. No sneaking in a quick poke. We divvy up all loot fairly while I’m—”

  The end of his words was lost in a roar of catcalls and whistles. More hands grasped Catalina, hauling her back through the doorway. It seemed as if half the pirates on ship were trying to squeeze into the narrow passageway.

  Over the turmoil, Lucia screeched in Spanish. “You’ll regret this, you will. She’s on her way to be married. When Don Perez finds out, he’ll make you sorry. He’ll hunt you down and hang you…hang every last one…” Her cry ended in an incoherent wail.

  Catalina looked up to catch a last sight of God’s clean sky. Would she see it again? Would she want to? The unwashed bodies of pirates pressed hard around her.

  The blast of a gunshot made everyone freeze. Captain Williams was holding up his pistol. A halo of smoke drifted away behind him.

  “Wait a minute, lads. Let’s not be too hasty.”

  Catalina tugged herself free.

  “This bridegroom of yours, would that be Don Miguel Perez of Veracruz?” Captain Williams evidently understood Spanish, although he continued in his native tongue.

  “Yes, I’m betrothed to him.”

  “Ah.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I guess that changes everything.”

  “You’re not scared of him, are you, Cap’n?” someone called out.

  “Oh no, not scared…never scared. It’s just the only thing that gets my juices going more than a pretty woman is a big pile of money.” Calculations were running behind his eyes. “You’re marrying a very, very rich man, you know.”

  Catalina did know. Half the silver leaving New Spain ran through Don Miguel’s hands. It was the main reason her parents had agreed to the match, overlooking his less than impressive pedigree.

  “How much do you think your husband would be willing to pay to get you back—completely intact, shall we say?”

  “That
would be your area of expertise. I’ve never held anyone for ransom.”

  Captain Williams threw back his head and laughed. “God’s blood, you’re a cool one. I’ll say that for you.”

  “Cap’n, you saying we can’t drill her?” A confused, plaintive voice in the crowd.

  “Yes. That’s just what I’m saying.”

  “How ’bout the other one?”

  Catalina resisted the urge to look around. Was Lucia still on deck? The absence of a squeal might only mean she was not keeping up with the conversation.

  “No. Best leave her alone too.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re going to send her with the ransom demand. If she’s been humped to hell and back, Don Silverarse Perez will never believe his darling bride is untouched.” Captain Williams’s eyes never left Catalina.

  “Still…”

  “Think of how many whores you can buy with your share of the ransom. So just keep it in your breeches for a while.”

  “Or go complain to Ellis.” The call from the back was greeted by more laughter.

  “Karl, take Nick and Sam with you, and find somewhere safe for her ladyship and the maid. The rest of you, I don’t want to see you anywhere near the ladies. Understand me?”

  A grumble of agreement answered him.

  Three pirates left the crowd and ushered Catalina and Lucia back down the passageway. Once again, the muted underdeck swallowed them. Annoyingly, Catalina’s legs chose now to start shaking, and nausea swirled in her stomach. She braced her hand against a wall while fighting to regain her self-control.

  The youngest of the pirates was a scrawny, towheaded boy, who looked to be fourteen at most. His face had no trace of a beard. The oldest could have been a great-grandfather, and limped as he walked. Yet both were as blood-splattered as everyone else. They had clearly played an active part in the fight. The last was the scarred man who had first dragged her out.

  “Where are we going to put them?” the boy asked.

  Scarface pointed. “That’s where I found them.”

  “Then might as well stick them back again.” The oldest pirate pushed the cabin door open. “There you go.”

  Lucia rushed in, dived onto her bunk, and pulled the blanket over her head. The chances of this being a successful hiding strategy were further reduced by her loud sobs.

  Catalina tried to follow more sedately, but her legs had lost all strength. Why? It made no sense for her body to betray her now, when it seemed events would turn out favorably. Surely Don Miguel would pay her ransom. She just needed to hold herself together a while longer.

  When she did not move quickly enough, Scarface grabbed her shoulder and shoved her through the doorway. Without the bolstering from a flare of anger, Catalina would have fallen. The boy started to say something but stopped. She turned and glared at the pirates. Scarface smirked back at her. Only the boy had the grace to look ill at ease.

  “We’ll be standing guard out here,” the elderly pirate said.

  “I assure you, I’ve no plans to go anywhere.” Did he think she would try to escape in the rowing boat?

  “We’ll get you some food once everything’s sorted.”

  “Thank you.” Although why should she thank the old man for returning goods he had just helped steal?

  Catalina watched the door close. Standing in the corridor outside, the blond boy was staring at her with wide-open eyes, as if he had never seen a woman before.

  Chapter Two

  “It’s all right, lad. Nick and me’ll stand guard. The cap’n didn’t say you had to stick with us. Go claim your share of the pickings,” Karl said once the door closed.

  “I don’t mind staying here.”

  “Nobody’s gonna diddle me or Nick, but you need to be there and make sure nobody forgets about you.”

  He had a point. Karl might be old, but the master gunner got respect, and Nick had been known to flatten men who looked at him sideways, whereas a cabin boy came right at the bottom of the heap. Yet, the Spanish noblewoman had a mixture of beauty, courage, and vulnerability that hit home. It was stupid, but Sam wanted to stay close by, even if it meant no more than staring at the door.

  Nobody had challenged Captain Williams’s orders, especially with the lure of Don Miguel’s money, but might some oafs, using their balls for brains, try their luck? Would then leaping in as her protector win Doña Catalina’s thanks? Automatically, Sam’s hand fastened on the pistol, stuck in the knotted rope that functioned as a belt.

  All of which was one big stupid fantasy. Nobody was going to try anything with Nick on guard. The sensible thing was to follow Karl’s advice. Acting sensibly was something Sam had plenty of experience at.

  “Right you are, Karl.” Sam trotted back to the main deck.

  Captain Williams was on the forecastle, giving his post-battle speech. “Men, you’ve done yourselves proud. You don’t need me to tell you that. And Lady Luck’s been with us. We weren’t expecting much from the loot, but once Don Silverarse coughs up, we’re all gonna be walking lopsided from the weight of our coin purses, just as long as nobody does anything to ruin her ladyship’s value. I would say, treat her like she’s your mother, but most of your mothers were whores.”

  “Hey! I didn’t know you’d met my ma,” someone shouted.

  “Sure I did. Best five minutes of my life.” He waited for the laughter to fade. “I don’t want anyone acting the idiot, now that we’ve got two women on board.”

  Actually, there were three, but Sam was not about to correct him. She had no wish to learn how her shipmates would react.

  “We’ve got ourselves a second ship again. It’s gonna make life easier. Though we’ll be a bit shorthanded until we recruit a few more lads.” The captain leaned on the railing, looking down at the prisoners directly beneath him. “Which is where you fellows come in. I’m going to give you a choice. Either you can ask nicely to join me and my hearty crew, or you can get put ashore, the first place we make land.”

  The prisoners exchanged looks among themselves. Captain Williams had spoken in English, but even those who had not understood every word would have caught his drift. The Caribbean was a mishmash of nations. In her years at sea, Sam had picked up a working knowledge of Spanish, French, German, and Dutch, and she knew how to swear in eight other languages, including a few exotic phrases from freed slaves. A fair number of the privateers were African.

  “If we let you join us, the rules are simple. You do what me, the quartermaster, and the first mate say. You work when we say work, you fight when we say fight, and you get one share of the loot for every three years you’re with us. If you disagree with something you can ask for it to go to a vote. But if you get into the habit of disagreeing and make a nuisance of yourself, we tip you overboard. So what do you say?”

  The offer was the same one Sam had received, ten months earlier. If her father had still been alive, they might have taken the chance that the next landfall would not be an uninhabited atoll. Without him, the best Sam could hope for was to end up totally alone in some hellhole of a town, filled with freebooters, outcasts, and slavers. Regardless, she would have needed to find work, and the sea was the only life she knew. She had told herself sailing with Captain Williams on the Golden Goose would allow time to look for a better alternative, although so far, this better alternative was yet to show up.

  These prisoners were on firmer ground, if they had the wits to work it out. Rejecting the offer carried no risk of being marooned. Captain Williams wanted the ransom demand to get to Don Perez quickly, which meant he would leave them as close to a Spanish controlled outpost as he dared go.

  However, the defeated captain would have none of it. He spoke in heavily accented English. “I can answer for my men. Not one of them will have anything to do with a villain like you, other than put a rope around your neck.”

  “That’s very good of you, to save your sailors’ breath and all, but we like to give a man the chance to speak for himself. So wha
t say you fellows? How do you fancy a chance to put some of that gold in your own pockets, rather than ferrying it back to Spain for some rich bastard who’s already got more than he knows what to do with?”

  Sam could see a couple glancing sideways at their crewmates, as if trying to work out which way the wind was blowing.

  The Spanish captain was not among them. “By your own words, you are nothing more than a common thief, a pirate. I’ll see you hang for your crimes.”

  “I’d have to say you’re not in a good position to be hanging anyone right now. Anyway, I’m not a pirate. I’m fighting on behalf of the Dutch Republic. I’ve got a very nice letter of marque from them to prove it.”

  “The so-called Dutch Republic are rebels against both God and their rightful king.”

  Captain Williams made a show of yarning. “This is boring. I’ve heard it before.”

  “Treason and heresy will not succeed. The true faith will triumph.”

  “So now we all know what your voice sounds like. It’s time to give it a rest.”

  “I will not be quiet in the presence of God’s enemies.”

  “Did you hear what I said before, about what happens if you make a nuisance of yourself?”

  “I do not fear your threats.”

  “That’s very brave of you.” Captain Williams gestured to the side. “Throw him overboard.”

  This shut the captain up, and to give him his due, he offered nothing but stoic defiance as three crewmembers heaved him over the gunwale. A few seconds of silence followed the splash.

  Captain Williams turned back to the prisoners and clapped his hands. “Right then. Who wants to be a privateer?”

  * * *

  In the end, nine prisoners took up the offer, and the others were chained in the hold of the captured ship. The recruits joined their new crewmates in a vote. Sam guessed this was their first taste of shipboard democracy. For her, it was easily the best thing about being a privateer.