Caribbean: a novel Part 16

FRI 7 APRIL: One of the most disappointing days of my life. We have tried in vain to penetrate the defenses of Panama, lured pa.s.sionately by the knowledge that the great treasure Morgan missed awaits us. I would like to meet the scoundrel who started the rumor that Spaniards are cowards. Not when they have treasure to defend. We tried every way to best them and failed. At sea they fended us off with a battery of great guns and by land they overwhelmed us with numbers. I felt we were no more than a flight of pestiferous gnats trying to attack a lion, for no matter where we headed we got slapped. At sea we lost two Englishmen killed by gunfire, on land two more, so that our original forty-six are now no more than forty, and I see that buccaneering can be triumphant when things go well, perilous when they don't. Beaten and bested, we are heading home, but whether by Cape Horn or Good Hope, we have not yet decided. At Panama the Spanish were too much for us.

MON 10 APRIL: Day of glory, day of mystery! Yesterday when we stood at 6 40 North of the equator by my reckoning on the crude forestaff we have with us, our lookout shouted: 'Lima galleon two points east of south!' and when all in my barca crowded forward, we saw the most gallant sight our eyes have ever beheld, a small, trim Spanish galleon, aft tower riding high in the air, gilded ornaments glistening in the morning sunlight. It rolled majestically, like some enormously wealthy grandee out for a morning stroll, now to port, then gently to starboard, and at each roll proclaiming: 'Gaze upon me, heavy with treasure.'

The sight of this galleon so inflamed our hunger that as we closed upon her, there was no man amongst us who was not prepared to capture her or die in the attempt. Captain McFee, drawing our two barcas together, addressed us: 'This is the target we dreamed of. We shall go at her from their port side, midships. Our best men will scale her with pistol and cutla.s.s, no quarter. Our slaves we leave tied up in our barcas under guard. All men on the boarding party follow me, for I shall lead.'

These were stern orders, and all of us who heard knew that on this day we proved our worth or went to perpetual sleep at the bottom of the sea. I was not frightened at the prospect, but my breath came uneasy and my mouth was very dry. My uncle, who rode with me, said only: 'Well, lad, this is what you came seeking. There she rides.' And when I looked at that huge Spanish ship towering above us, I must confess that I wondered to myself: Can she be taken by forty men? But as immediately as the thought came, I corrected it: By forty Englishmen? And I answered myself in words shouted aloud to sustain my bravery: 'Yes, by St. George and England, we can do it!' and men about me took up the cry: 'George and England!' and even though our captain was a Scot, he joined us in the shouting.

The Spanish captain, seeing us coming and well aware that this would be a fight to the finish, adopted the same tactics as the galleons had done at Panama. He launched three barcas, each larger than ours, in an attempt to keep us away from his sides. When the vessels approached us, we tore into them as if they were sheep sent out to pasture and we ravenous lions.

'Leave them drown!' my uncle shouted as the Spanish barcas foundered, throwing their sailors into the water, and then occurred one of those vast mysteries of fate, for as we regrouped and sped toward the galleon, whose officers must have been terrified to see how quickly we disposed of their first line of defense, a stupendous fire swept the deck above us. Some careless act aboard the galleon must have thrown a fire of some kind into a barrel of powder, killing far more Spaniards than we did when we climbed up to take command.

Once in control, my uncle and I rampaged through the lower decks, finally locating the huge stores of silver, each bar marked with its Potos number, and we realized that we had taken a prize of immeasurable value. Will cried in joy: 'No division this time of eleven pounds each!' And we knew, there in the dark hold, that we would be wealthy men if we could but sail this great ship back to Port Royal in Jamaica.

While we were in the bowels of the galleon we heard a confused shouting on deck, and fearing that a sortie of armed Spaniards might have hidden against the moment they could spring out upon us and retake their ship, we rushed aloft, our faces grimed from the hold, our guns and swords at the ready. Instead, I found myself standing face-to-face with the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen. She was, I judged, about seventeen, fair of skin as if the sun had never touched her pretty face, dressed in fine fabrics more suited to a ball than to a galleon, with perfect figure, dark hair and eyes of an exquisite quality that danced with excitement, even in these uncertain surroundings.

She was accompanied by a woman I took to be her mother, a stately creature of some forty years perhaps, or more, for I am no judge past the age of twenty, and of an austere character which disapproved of all that had happened this morning and especially of the black-faced English rogues who were now taking control of her and her daughter.

Later that afternoon, when we found out who they were, we were astounded at our great good fortune, for the tall, solemn priest who had accompanied them told us in polished Spanish: 'They are the wife and daughter of the governor of Cartagena, the most honorable Don Alfonso Ledesma Amadr y Espnal. They've been visiting in Peru, and if you mar either of them in any way, the wrath of the entire Spanish empire will hound you to your graves.' And with that he introduced us to Doa Ana Ledesma y Paredes, and her beautiful daughter Inez. He informed us further that he was Fray Baltazar Arevalo of the town of that name in the province of vila on the borders of Segovia. He rattled off these names as if each bestowed a special grandeur upon his family heritage.

He was a tall man with dark visage, and he looked as if the burden of leading a flock of Catholic Spaniards in the New World was a dismal business, which I have no doubt it was, but he obviously intended defending his two present charges with his life. When my uncle saw him, he whispered in my ear: 'That one looks just like the Inquisition man who sentenced me to death in Cadiz,' and I think he would have thrust a poniard into the gloomy priest right then had I not restrained him.

I have not gone to sleep as yet, because Captain McFee a.s.signed me to the duty of guarding the hundred-odd prisoners we took during the battle, and I can hear them now as I write, battened down below hatches and wondering what fate awaits them. My uncle is for killing them, but others say: 'Put them in the boats and head them for sh.o.r.e. Let them find their own way.' I would be most unhappy if Seorita Inez were treated thus.

TUE 11 APRIL: When we learned that the name of our fine little galleon was La Giralda de Sevilla we wanted to know what the words meant, and the gloomy priest told us: 'In Sevilla, loveliest city in Spain, there is a majestic cathedral so big you would not believe me if I told you. Attached to it is the most beautiful tower, the Giralda, in itself a thing of grace, built by the Moors.'

'What is a giralda?' I asked, and he snapped impatiently: 'Weather vane.' For some crazy reason the dumb Spaniards named a tower after a weather vane. So our ship is The Weather Vane of Sevilla. Some men did not like sailing in a ship with a Spanish name, but when they proposed changing it to a decent, clean English name like the Castle, because we did have a castlelike structure aft, there was loud protest from others who knew of ships that had changed their names and had encountered only bad luck as a result: 'We captured a St. Peter and changed it to the Master of Deal and within four weeks it caught fire and burned.' After five other dismal stories had been recited, one man gave contrary testimony: 'We captured a Dutch ship Frau Rosalinde, and our captain, who had much trouble with his wife, vowed: 'I'll not sail in a ship named after a woman,' and we changed it to Robin Hood, and before the month was out we had captured a Spanish craft with stores of bullion.' But the bad cases outnumbered the good nine to two, so we voted to keep Giralda and when I told the priest, he said grudgingly: 'Good omen. Every sailor needs a weather vane.'

SUN 16 APRIL: First prayers, at which we gave thanks that G.o.d had delivered into our hands this rich prize, then big decisions, I can tell you. Captain McFee and the group of five who counsel him have agreed to crowd all the prisoners into barcas with allowances of food and water and let them get home as best they can, but only after the masts have been sawed off to prevent them taking action against us. They further decided to keep aboard the Giralda the Spanish chirurgeon, who certainly knows his pills and ointments better than we, but my uncle cautioned: 'Search his bottles and remove all poisons, or he will mix one for us.' They decided to keep also a Master Rodrigo, a learned man who had served the Spanish captain as navigator and who told me in excellent English: 'I know these waters, Acapulco to Cape Horn, so inform your captain that I might be of some service.' When I asked why he might want to serve with us, he said: 'A sailor's life is to sail, and as for those in the little barcas, who knows what will happen?' We also kept seven black men who had served as slaves on the Giralda and who would continue in the same duties with us. Our new navigator asked us to allow him his a.s.sistant, but Uncle Will growled: 'My nephew knows navigating. He can be your a.s.sistant,' and it was done.

Now came the weighty problem of what to do about the two Ledesma women and their priest. My uncle was about to throw them into one of the barcas and to G.o.d's mercy, for he visualized only trouble if we kept them with us, but Fray Baltazar stopped him with an anguished plea: 'Save these women, you fools! Governor Ledesma will pay a n.o.ble ransom,' and I stepped forward to bring the ladies back, but Uncle Will said: 'He'll offer the ransom, but how are we going to collect it?' McFee silenced him with the reminder: 'No man ever has enough siller,' and when I asked what siller was, my uncle said gruffly: 'It's how them Scots say silver, and he may be right.' However, I could see that he was not happy this afternoon when the barcas started drifting toward some distant sh.o.r.e without the Ledesma women aboard. And as for the dark priest, my uncle still wanted to knife him and may do so before this trip is over.

I was given the task of finding quarters for the two women and their priest, and I arranged for them to keep the cabins they had occupied atop the stern castle, what they call the p.o.o.pdeck, but when Captain McFee heard of my decision, he growled: 'They can't stay there,' and when I asked why not, he astonished me: 'Because four days from now that castle won't be there,' and so I had to find smaller and less-polished cabins below. When Fray Baltazar objected, I told him, making my voice sound official: 'Because four days from now that castle won't be there,' and I let him explain that to his women.

MON 17 APRIL: Giralda may not have been a major Manila galleon, but it is sumptuously equipped with the most modern instruments required in navigation, and when Master Rodrigo satisfied himself that I had a certain skill in using the forestaff to take shots of the sun in order to determine lat.i.tude, he accepted me fully as his a.s.sistant: 'You must put aside your forestaff, for it is little better than a guessing game,' and he showed me for the first time a beautiful new instrument called a backstaff fashioned of bleached pearwood and ivory and of such an ingenious purpose that I could not believe it. 'When taking a sight, do not point it at the sun,' he explained, 'for then the eye grows weary. This one you point away from the sun, catch the shadow it throws here, and bring it together with the horizon you see through this peephole.' When I followed his instructions I caught a perfect sighting on my first effort.

TUE 18 APRIL: Today when I handed Master Rodrigo the lat.i.tude from my noon shot made with his backstaff, I asked: 'How did you learn to speak English?' and he told me: 'A Dutch navigator told me, and they're the best, to get myself a copy of Eduardo Wright's Errors in Navigation, which, he said, would make all things clear. When I found a copy I had to learn English to read it, and well worth the effort it was.' He handed me his precious book to study, and when I did so to the level that I could understand, I told him: 'Now I'm ready to be a navigator,' and he said: 'Maybe in ten years.'

TUE 28 APRIL: Big fight with Master Rodrigo. When he found that I had dated the above entry Tue 18 April, which was correct, he screamed: 'The entire civilized world uses Catholic dating. Your crazy Protestant calendar lags ten days behind. Change it right now or you can no longer be my a.s.sistant.' So I changed it, as you can see, but I do believe Rodrigo must be wrong, for I cannot think that people in England could ever make such a mistake.

THU 30 APRIL: So when we anch.o.r.ed off the island which we face tonight, I took my sighting and found that we were 3 01 North lat.i.tude and the mariner told us: 'This is Gorgona Island, not a bad spot for your purpose,' so we warped the Giralda inland as far as possible into a small stream, and when we had nearly grounded at high tide, we threw lines from the ship to trees ash.o.r.e, and after we were well secured, Captain McFee informed us: 'Here we shall remain about a month to accomplish the things that must be done if we hope to get our ship safely back to Port Royal.' And before the sun went down he started the tremendous job of converting this fancy little galleon into a good fighting ship worthy of a buccaneer. I was astonished at all he proposed: 'Off comes that castle aft.' When some protested that this would deprive us of all the good cabins, he growled: 'Ships are for fighting, not for siestas.' The two masts would be lowered by half, ridding us of all those high and fashionable sails which look so pretty when they're pushing some heavy galleon ahead in fair weather and good wind, but which are so useless when we are trying to fight another ship and have to maneuver quickly to gain advantage. One mast far aft is to be discarded entirely, so at least half our sails will be of no further use. The very thick and heavy ropes will be stowed below, never to be used again aboard our ship, but to be sold at some future port to great ships that may still need them. The clutter on deck is to be what he called 'cleansed entirely' for as Captain McFee pointed out: 'If the Spanish captain had had his powder barrels below, he'd never have lost this ship to a boarding party.' In almost every other detail of this fine galleon, he sees something that can be chopped away or otherwise disposed of and he urges Mompox with his ax to get at it.

TUE 5 MAY: This morning when Fray Baltazar and Seora Ledesma saw that we really intended chopping off the two top decks aft, he made an angry protest, and she a tearful one, claiming that Captain McFee was destroying a beautiful ship, but he was firm, jutting out his Scottish jaw: 'We're building a fast fighting ship to carry you and our h.o.a.rd of silver safely to Jamaica. All else is nothing,' and we continued the destruction.

MON 25 MAY: Well, the rebuilding is finished, and Master Rodrigo, looking at the rubbish left ash.o.r.e, said: 'We must weigh half of what we did before,' but Captain McFee, looking at the same graveyard of overtall masts, unnecessary cabins and even whole decks that were only for show, told our crew: 'Now we have a ship that can cut through the waves and outmatch any Spanish ship.' Tomorrow we break loose the lines tying us to sh.o.r.e and set forth ... for where? We know we want to get to Jamaica, but we cannot make up our minds exactly how to get there. Whether to take the shortest course around Cape Horn, not a pleasant trip they tell me, or clear around the world across the Pacific to Asia, and then around Good Hope and home across the Atlantic. A frightening course either way, but Uncle Will says: 'Take either. It's always good to see new lands.'

THU 28 MAY: I have never lived as satisfying a day at sea. This morning Seorita Inez, who has been kept away from me by her mother and Fray Baltazar, escaped from their watch and walked with me far forward where they could not spy on us. She allowed me to take her hand, and I do believe she wanted to let me know that she thought me a decent fellow, even though an Englishman. I know enough Spanish to understand when she told me: 'My name is not Inez like you say. It's Ines,' and she p.r.o.nounced this in such a soft, lovely manner, that I much preferred her version: 'Eee-ness.'

She then shared with me the history of what she called 'Our Famous Family,' and I was not too pleased to learn that her great-grandfather had hounded our Sir Francis Drake to a watery death. Seeing me frown, she a.s.sured me that her grandfather, who had the curious name of Roque Ledesma y Ledesma, had been the governor of Cartagena who allowed trading relations with England, so he must have been a good man. Our pleasant visit was interrupted by my uncle, who shooed us out from our hiding place so that Fray Baltazar could spy us and come running. When I asked Will why he had done this, he said: 'There's a proper English girl waiting for you in Barbados,' and when I asked who, he snapped: 'You know d.a.m.n well who, somebody ...' and off he stomped cursing at Spaniards in general.

FRI 29 MAY: Went walking on the deck with Seorita Ines, but when Uncle Will saw us he scurried like a tattletale to Fray Baltazar, who rushed out to whisk her away. Later my uncle apologized: 'I suppose she's better than that Mompox. But you've got to remember she's papist and will cheer when her priest burns you as a heretic ... if he gets the chance.'

THU 25 JUNE: At sea, 2 13 South off the renowned city of Guayaquil, we captured a big Spanish ship heading north to Panama, with no loss of life to us and only three of them. Same as before. Everyone into small boats with the masts chopped off. Head for the mainland and good luck while we transfer all goods to the Giralda, set fire to the Spaniard and continue south. While rejoicing at this good luck, I found myself once more alone with Seorita Ines, and she said she was most grieved to see those good men who had done no harm set adrift with no mast or sails, and although I agreed with her, I suddenly found myself defensive, for I could not tolerate any Spaniard criticizing English sailors: 'You must ask my uncle. When your Spaniards captured his ship they burned our sailors alive and were about to do the same to him, when he escaped.' She could not believe that her people had so behaved, and when the ever-watchful Fray Baltazar came as usual to rescue her from me, she asked: 'Good priest, tell me if it is true that we have in Spain an Inquisition that burns Englishmen?' and it was then that he began his effort to educate me. 'Yes,' he told us, 'the Holy Church had to establish a group to protect it from the heretic and the infidel, and yes, sometimes the punishments had to be cruel, but no more so than what your uncle does when you Englishmen take a ship and shoot the wounded or drown those who fought with extra vigor against you. The spirit of man is rude, and it requires constant taming.'

He told us that on the Spanish Main the Inquisition did not burn people, for which he was grateful, but that the fight against heretics had to continue lest the one True Church be what he called 'contaminated.' And he added: 'We protect it for your interest as well as ours.' This I could not understand, so he explained: 'Less than a hundred and twenty years ago you Englishmen were all Catholics, and one of these days, when a proper king occupies your throne, you'll be so again.' Before I could protest, he asked: 'You've seen most of the North Sea, Ned. Wouldn't it be simpler and better if we were all one group of islands, all Catholic and subject to one king in Spain and one pope in Rome?'

I was so astounded by such an idea that when he took Ines away I sought my uncle, and said: 'Fray Baltazar says that a hundred years ago all Englishmen were Catholics,' and he growled: 'Not my people. Back to the time of Jesus Christ himself, we was always Church of England,' and I did not know who to believe.

MON 13 JULY: On this day I gained much respect for our captain, because at lat.i.tude 12 05 South we stood off Lima's great port of Callao in Peru, and when I saw the mult.i.tude of ships there, with fleet war vessels among them bristling with guns, I thought: Dear G.o.d, protect us if we try anything here. They know that one Englishman is worth ten Spaniards, but those ships are too many, even for us. And to my eternal thanks, Captain McFee must have had the same idea, for when he dropped the gla.s.s from his eye he turned to Master Rodrigo and said: 'Carry as she goes,' and the navigator saluted and replied: 'A very good decision, sir.'

I am confused about this Rodrigo. He's a loyal Spaniard and must hope to see us taken by some warship of his country, but he is first of all a responsible seaman and as such he wants to preserve his vessel and put her into safe waters. I saw how he was hurt, terribly, when we chopped his proud galleon to pieces, but now he is equally proud of her performance as a sleek ship that performs wondrously in our battle actions. We in turn trust him, for as Captain McFee says: 'What else can we do? He knows these waters and we don't.'

WED 22 JULY: Of Arica, I can say only this. Richest port in Peru, for all the silver of Potos ships from here. Defended by the best Spanish troops. Crafty swine, allowed us to storm ash.o.r.e like we were going to capture Madrid. Waited till we were far from our ship, then sent cavalry at us, knocked us galley-west. When we regained our ship, Uncle Will told me: 'See! You can never trust a Spaniard.'

TUE 28 JULY: We gained our revenge for the loss of three good men at Arica, but I was not much impressed with our triumph. At a good distance south of that port we anch.o.r.ed off the town of Hilo and stormed ash.o.r.e to capture a sugar mill, where we held the plantation manager hostage. Sending a sharp message to the owners out in the country, which I delivered under the protection of a white flag, we said we would burn the sugar mill to the ground unless a ransom of one hundred thousand pesos was paid within two days. The owners a.s.sured us they had the money in Arica, but it would require two days' travel time. I told them: 'Two days, you bring us the money or we burn your mill,' and two days later they came to us under their white flag and we were overjoyed that we would be getting the hundred thousand pesos. But they brought us nothing, said that the messenger from Arica had been delayed, but please don't burn our mill because two days hence we will be back with the money. Two days pa.s.sed, no money, so back I went with my white flag, and they told me that since the money had reached the next village it would be delivered tomorrow, so please don't burn our mill, and I promised. But when yesterday came and went with still no money, Captain McFee said in anger: 'They've been toying with you, Ned. Burn everything.' And we rushed to all corners of the plantation, burning houses and barns and destroying machinery until there was nothing standing over six inches high. As we retired from the place my uncle told me: 'Well, you've seen how untrustworthy the Spaniards are. Have nothing more to do with that girl and her priest.'

FRI 28 AUGUST: My magical backstaff tells me we're now well below the equator at 26 21 South, and I've been having a fine time on land hunting wild pigs along the sh.o.r.es of the bay and catching sea turtles. We've eaten well on this buccaneering trip. We're now careening the Giralda, which means that stout ropes have been attached to our mast so that the ship can be pulled over on its beam ends one side at a time, which allows us to work with bars and axes, chopping away the barnacles that cover the bottom, some as big as a man's hand, and then sc.r.a.pe off the seaweed that clings like wavy hair. These things slow a ship tremendously, as if big hands held us back in the water, and old sailors tell me that if the barnacles are allowed to grow undisturbed, the day will come when the ship won't be able to move forward at all.

But the most important part of careening is not merely clearing the bottom, but sc.r.a.ping off the worms that multiply in warm waters and dig into wood so fast they can eat away a bottom in one year. We dug out a small mountain of worms and chopped in half as many again, providing food for a hundred gulls who swarmed about us without saying thanks.

During the two weeks we spent at this necessary job, with our cabins tilted this way and that, we slept ash.o.r.e, and several times I was able to take long walks with Seorita Ines. We spent such happy moments at the edge of the bay, watching the fish and the turtles, that I became convinced she had developed an interest in me. After all, every time I had seen her aboard ship, she had also seen me, and if I grew mightily attached to her, is it not reasonable I asked myself, that she might feel the same about me?

One afternoon when I was hard at work sc.r.a.ping the bottom and preparing it for the metal sheathing we had found in the hold, I saw Ines walking by the sh.o.r.e without the customary protection of her mother or the priest, that careful watchdog, and as I continued looking after the girl I had grown to love during our long pa.s.sages, I spied one of our rascally hands, a gross fellow of filthy tongue named Quinton, trailing her, and as she pa.s.sed from sight I heard her scream. Rushing pell-mell to where I had last seen her, without hesitation or thought I unlimbered my pistol and shot him dead. The noise attracted both Seora Ledesma and Fray Baltazar, who wrapped the fainting girl in their arms and bore her to the tent they were occupying during the careening.

There had to be a meeting of the crew, for one of their members had been slain, and I was quickly absolved, but my uncle took the occasion to reprove me: 'You should not waste a bullet killing an Englishman who is a.s.saulting a Spaniard. Save it to kill a Spaniard who affronts an Englishman.'

Now that our crew was already gathered at one place, someone remembered the tradition: 'Buccaneers have always elected their captains,' and soon many were complaining of the way McFee had behaved at various points, and so many others voiced their displeasure that the first man made a motion, like we were in Parliament: 'I move to elect a new captain,' and before I knew what was happening, we had deposed Captain McFee and elected a sailor who spoke loud but did little.

THU 3 SEPTEMBER: Today my uncle, in a show of temper, bawled me out: 'You give me nothing but headaches, Ned. Stay away from that Ines. She'll bring you only trouble.' And when I started to protest, he actually roared: 'And stay away from that Mompox, too. He'll bring you even greater trouble.' When I asked why this sudden outburst, he said almost plaintively: 'You were intended for some fine English girl in Barbados, and by the horns of h.e.l.l, I'm going to see you delivered safely home.'

MON 14 SEPTEMBER: Our new captain has made the big decision: 'We shall return home by way of China, India and Good Hope,' and in pursuit of that goal we have sailed far to the west on lat.i.tude 34 07 South and have come to an island called Juan Fernandez, in whose princ.i.p.al bay we rest tonight, and for me, who aspires to become a skilled navigator, the visit to this lonely island has been a kind of gift, because in the heavens, which have magically cleared of storms as if in my favor, I saw tonight for the first time those great concentrations of stars which mariners have named the Clouds of Magellan, for he was the first civilized man to see them. How mysterious, how wonderful they were, hung in the southern skies like a collection of celestial flowers. But while I stood gazing in awe Master Rodrigo came to stand by me, and said glumly: 'Beautiful, yes, but not one-tenth the value of our North Star which tells us where we are.' And then he showed me how, using the Southern Cross, which is certainly as beautiful as any constellation we have in our northern seas, a sailor can construct in his imagination a southern subst.i.tution for the North Star. It was a clever mental exercise and I thanked him.

When he was gone a much different night wanderer took his place and I felt my hand gently held in hers. It was Seorita Ines, come to see the Clouds of Magellan, and as she joined me she whispered: 'Ned, I'm glad to be with you,' and before I really knew what was happening we kissed, and it was more pleasant than any kiss I had known in Port Royal. We remained thus for the better part of an hour, looking at Magellan and kissing, and then we heard a vast commotion on the deck below, and here comes Seora Ledesma and Fray Baltazar, running here and there, now together, now with her in one direction, him in another, and each shouting: 'She's not here. Is she over there?' As they ran, Ines stood always closer to me, holding my arms about her waist, until we seemed one person, and then she would kiss me again and laugh at the noises her mother and the priest were making. Finally Fray Baltazar spotted us on the high deck. 'Just as we suspected! She's with him!' And together the two wild searchers rushed up the ladders to rescue Ines, who remained in my arms until they arrived.

'You naughty child!' her mother cried as she tore Ines from me. 'You ugly boy!' Fray Baltazar added, elbowing me away from the two women. But after Ines had been safely stowed below, Baltazar returned to stand with me and watch the stars. We talked most of the night away as he told me of his boyhood in Arevalo and of how he had been permitted in his life to watch a dozen marriages between couples who were not suited and of how each had ended in misery at least and sometimes tragedy. There was always a lot of human tragedy when Fray Baltazar talked.

'What do you mean, not suited?' I asked, and he had a dozen examples: 'A lady of n.o.ble bearing married a Moor, different color, different religion, very bad. She stabbed him with a dagger. A lady in our town of some quality married a Portuguese of low estate. Strangled her for her money. I accompanied him to the scaffold and am glad to say he died in repentance.' He gave three instances in which Spanish ladies of what he called 'some repute' married Protestants, and their experiences were downright pitiful. So at the end of this narration I asked: 'Who should marry who?' and he said firmly: 'A fine Catholic girl like Ines of notable family must marry only a young man of equally good family, who is also Catholic. What you do, as a heretic, is of little matter.' When he left me alone, staring at the stars, it was almost dawn and I could still feel the arms of Ines about me and I went to bed satisfied that she loved me.

WED 30 SEPTEMBER: Amazing events. During our long stay on Juan Fernandez our crew tired of the silly ways in which our new captain gave orders exhibiting his power over us, and there was also serious criticism of his decision to take us home by way of China, so last night a meeting was held and we told him he was no longer our captain, and when he asked: 'Well, who is?' we had an election, and our old captain, Mister McFee, was restored to office. I don't like this. Ordinary sailors should not go around discharging and rehiring captains. The English way is a lot better. Appoint a man captain and keep him there until he sinks his ship. Of course, if he goes down with her, as he is supposed to, that ends that.

Captain McFee's first decision was not a happy one. He decided, with our approval, not to pursue our course across the South Sea but to head for Cape Horn and home. However, he left Juan Fernandez so quickly, we had no time to search the beach for members of our crew who might be still ash.o.r.e, and when we were at sea some hours, my uncle came crying: 'Go back! The Miskito David is still ash.o.r.e!' but Captain McFee would not listen: 'We're too far on our way,' and we plunged toward the Strait of Magellan. I spent many hours brooding about David and what his fate might be. Imagine, alone, all by himself on that forlorn island. How will he eat? What if he gets sick? Poor David, poor Indian, I weep for him.

The next excitement on this memorable day came when we sighted a Spanish ship heading north and decided to give chase. Many sailors, including me, argued against capturing another ship and one so far south that it could not have carried gold or silver, but Captain McFee said: 'A sailor on a long voyage can never have enough food or gunpowder,' so we closed upon her, boarded without the loss of any of our men, put nine of theirs to the sword, pillaged their ship of all goods worth taking, saved her longboats, and set her afire. We loaded most of our Spanish captives and all of hers into the longboats, threw away their masts, and sent them on their way to the mainland, which is by my reckoning a long way off. I asked my uncle: 'Do you think they'll ever reach sh.o.r.e?' and he said: 'I hope not.' I have risen from my hammock to add these sentences. I could not sleep from thinking of David the Miskito marooned on that island and the Spanish sailors trying to reach sh.o.r.e with no sails and little food or water. I find that I am tired of killing. I am weary of shooting unarmed Spanish prisoners or setting them adrift to perish. Capture their ships, yes, and fight valiantly if we have to, swords and pistols, but this continued slaughter? No. I shall partic.i.p.ate no further. Of course, such regrets do not bother Uncle Will, who is asleep in the hammock above me and snoring.

TUE 13 OCTOBER: Day after day of dull nothing heading south for Cape Horn. No fish to catch, no birds to follow, no Spanish ships to chase, nothing. These must be the loneliest seas in the world. But today things livened when Master Rodrigo challenged me to a test: 'Well, muchacho, to be a navigator, let's see if you can take a proper sight,' and he gave me a slip of paper, himself another, and he said: 'It's about noon. We'll both shoot the sun, tell no one our reading, and figure our lat.i.tude on these papers, them compare them.' He allowed me to go first, and with feet steady and arms firm, my back to the sun and the magical staff held tight, I calculated a lat.i.tude of 39 40 South and wrote this on my slip. Then he took his sighting, much more rapidly than me, and wrote it down. 'Now we'll compare,' he said, and when my slip was laid beside his they both read 39 degrees and were only twelve minutes apart: 'Muchacho, you're a budding navigator. Nine more years.'

I then asked: 'Master Rodrigo, if we can tell so accurately where we are north and south, why can't we do so east and west?' and he stopped whatever he had been doing and gave me a long lesson in which he compared the two problems: 'For lat.i.tude, we have two fixed marks, the sun at noon, the North Star at night. G.o.d hung those two for us, steady forever. One shot of either, you know exactly how far you are north or south of the equator.' He then said something that Fray Baltazar would not have approved: 'But G.o.d was careless about His east and west. We have no fixed beacons. As to our longitude, the best we can do is guess.' And he spent more than an hour instructing me in the secrets whereby practiced navigators guess where they are. 'Suppose I know where Cadiz is as we start to sail, and I know how fast my ship is traveling and in what direction. At the end of twenty-four hours I can make a pretty good guess as to where we are. From there we make new calculations of tide, wind, drift, supposed speed, and twenty-four hours later we again guess where we are then. And so it goes. We guess our way around the world. Right now, because we have charts and know what we've been doing, I'd say we were about sixty-nine degrees of longitude west of Cadiz.' At the end of his lecture he frowned: 'It's infuriating to have no reliable system. Maybe someone will invent a chain we'll drag in the water and it will tick off the miles. Or a new way to shoot the sun sideways instead of up and down. Or a clock which tells you always what time it is in Cadiz so you can compare noon there with noon here.' Pointing to the ivory backstaff, he told me: 'If men can invent this so late in the day, they can invent other useful devices too.' And by making shrewd guesses together about tides and winds and whether our charts were reliable or not, we calculated that on some of these tedious days south we covered as many as ninety miles, which would be about four English miles an hour, and on one day we made well over a hundred, but on others when winds were adverse, only twenty or even less.

SAT 21 NOVEMBER: 56 10 South. Yes, that's right. I've checked it with my backstaff every time the sun has peeked through the frozen clouds and my numbers confirm a miserable story of lost channels, frustration, despair and freezing fingers. Since Master Rodrigo has never sailed through the Strait of Magellan connecting the South Sea of the Pacific to the Atlantic Ocean, and since heavy cloud has enveloped us almost from the time we captured our last Spanish ship, no one aboard really knew what we were doing, and several sailors told me: 'Lucky you know how to work that astrolabe, else we'd be totally lost.' If my sightings are right and if our charts do not lie, which they may, we have missed Magellan completely and are well down toward the South Pole. But at least we've found open water, so tomorrow the navigator and I will advise Captain McFee to head north, for I'm convinced we have rounded Cape Horn and are now in the Atlantic Ocean, but I'm not much impressed with my company of buccaneers who do not even know what ocean we're in.

SUN 29 NOVEMBER: Day of miracles! Lost in the bitter cold of wherever we are, I calculated from my sighting of the sun that we must be about 52 10 South and that the nest of feathery clouds I had kept watching for the last two days to the northeast must be hanging over some island not shown on our maps. Presenting my conclusions to Captain McFee, I recommended that he sail in that direction, but he said: 'Go to h.e.l.l. No boy tells me where to sail,' and he refused. Now the sailors, convening a meeting, elected to throw him from command yet again 'for that he missed Magellan and the whole end of South America,' but their arrogance did not hide their fear at being lost in an unknown ocean.

So for some minutes we were without a captain, and then the miracle happened, for my uncle cried in a loud voice: 'The islands! Just where the lad said they'd be!' And when the frightened men looked, they saw the fine green islands promising fresh water and fresh deer meat, and Will shouted again: 'd.a.m.n me, only one seems to know where we are is the lad,' and the men cheered and elected me their captain, with the firm orders: 'Take us home, son.'

So here I am at age twenty, nigh onto twenty-one, in command of the Spanish galleon, later English fighting ship Giralda, with a crew of forty-one battle-tested Englishmen, nine Spanish sailors who chose to stay with us and seventeen slaves, fourteen Indians, Mompox, Master Rodrigo, Fray Baltazar and the two Ledesma women, plus a hold heavy in silver bars.

Where are we? I know only that we have come safely into the Atlantic and that our home refuge of Port Royal lies some six thousand seven hundred miles to the north, if our captured charts are correct. As captain responsible for the safe pa.s.sage of my ship, I have to suppose that sooner or later we must encounter some big Spanish warship that can outman, outgun and outfight us, and that I want to avoid. In the few hours since I was given command, I have thought not of the easy way we captured small Spanish ships but of the way we fled before big Spanish ships at Panama, Lima and Arica, and of how Spanish soldiers, when in good supply, punished us at the silver port. I have decided that to be a proper buccaneer, a man does not have to be a fool.

SAT 12 DECEMBER: 34 40 South off the coast at Buenos Aires, where an entirely new event has occurred, to my enormous surprise. As captain of our ship I now take my meals in the cabin where the Ledesma women and their priest eat, and this has put me face-to-face, three times each day, with the adorable Seorita Ines, and I think I can speak for us both, certainly for me, when I write with trembling hand and beating heart that we have fallen wonderfully, magnificently in love. She has proved highly skilled in slipping away from both her mother and her priest and finding me where they cannot. The other evening we had near to three hours alone, and it was, well, sort of overwhelming. When she slipped away she whispered: 'Ned, I feel it in my heart that at the end of this cruising we shall be married,' and I a.s.sured her: 'That becomes my whole aim.'

This noon, after I had shot the sun, with the results penned above, I asked at the table: 'Where's Seorita Ines?' and her mother said smugly: 'Locked in her cabin,' and when I gasped, the priest asked with a slight sneer: 'And who do you think's guarding the door?' and when I said I couldn't guess, he said: 'Your uncle.'

Yes, the sternest enemy of my love for Ines is my own uncle, who said, when I stormed out to challenge him: 'Boy, your life could be ...' I tried to brush him aside: 'I'm not a boy. I'm the captain of this ship,' but I could not budge him. He was siding with the priest and Seora Ledesma for the good of my soul, he said, and because no Englishman with Tatum blood in his veins should marry a Spaniard.

So three determined people, two Spanish, one English, have banded together to prevent headstrong Seorita Ines and determined me from a pledge of our love. Last night, I can tell you, they failed, not because of anything bold that I did but because Ines escaped while Fray Baltazar was guarding her, ran swiftly into the cabin where I was sleeping, and barred the door from the inside. With sweet abandon she threw herself into my arms, crying: 'Ned, I cannot live without you ... so brave ... captain of your own ship ... so much desired.' Well, I can tell you I was overwhelmed by her bold action, and especially what she kept saying as she poured kisses on my trembling lips: 'We shall be married.' This was exactly what I had dreamed about on the long pa.s.sages south to the Cape, and I began to think that marriage with this delectable girl was possible, regardless of how vigorously her mother and my uncle might object.

But even as she made her professions of love, which I accepted as the kind of miracle that occurs when a man became captain of a fine ship, a great knocking came at my cabin door, and we could hear Seora Ledesma and Fray Baltazar, the one voice high, the other low, pleading with Ines to open the door and behave like a proper Spanish young lady. She refused, crying repeatedly: 'I shall not open till you agree that Ned and I can move about his ship as we decide,' and it seemed to me, listening to their knocking and her response, that a great scandal must be under way, with my crew aware of everything, and I wondered what the effect would be.

The problem faded into insignificance in view of what happened next, for I heard my uncle shouting in the early dawn: 'Spanish ship! Attack!' and such a clatter arose that I had to know that our Giralda was rushing full speed ahead and girding her decks for an a.s.sault. It was, I saw, pretty ridiculous for me to be locked in my cabin, prisoner of a Spanish la.s.s, when the ship I was supposed to be commanding was bearing down on an enemy who might prove to be well armed.

'I must go!' I cried to Ines, striving to break free, but she stood by the barred door and refused to let me open it, and I spent the next minutes in a frenzy of indecision, with Seora Ledesma banging on my door, Fray Baltazar thundering anathemas, and my uncle speeding my ship into battle against an enemy I could not see and whose strength I could not estimate. I realized it was a sad position for a captain to be in, but I saw no escape, and with Ines in my arms I awaited the clash of arms that would come when the sailors of the Giralda tried to board the fleeing Spanish ship.

It was a frightening two hours, locked in that cabin with the girl I loved. We could hear the ships collide, the swift movement of feet on the deck, the play of swords so far distant that it must come from the deck of the other ship, the echoes of salute guns being fired, and eventually the cries of victory. Only then did Ines let me go.

When I came onto the deck I found Will about to make eleven Spanish prisoners, weighted with chains, walk the plank to instant death. 'No!' I shouted. 'Let them have a small boat. Better yet, let them have their own ship with the masts cut away.'

When my uncle and the usual hotheads who could be depended upon to support his piratical deeds refused to obey my commands, I shouted: 'Stop it! I'm your captain,' and two of the men shouted back in the same breath: 'Not anymore, hiding in your cabin while we fight,' and a meeting was held then and there which deposed me and once again restored Mister McFee to his original command.

When buccaneers try to run ships, they can be d.a.m.ned fools. Imagine electing the same man to be captain three different times. But in a way I was glad he now had the command, because the first order he gave was: 'Stop leading those prisoners to the gangplank,' and because he was older, the men had to obey him. He then ordered the captured ship to be stripped of everything we might need on the final rush to Port Royal, especially the casks of fresh water and the food. Our sailors were invited to take control of as much powder and ball as they thought they might need, and the masts were chopped down to deck level. The defeated Spaniards were allowed to climb back aboard their ship and head it for the mainland, while our men fired salutes to speed them on their way.

I had been captain for fifteen days, during which time I moved our ship homeward from 56 South to 34. It could be said that during my captaincy we captured this Spanish vessel without the loss of an English life and that I received a proposal of marriage from a most wonderful Spanish girl. A lot of buccaneer captains take a longer time to achieve less.

But with the new order of things I was no longer allowed to take my meals with the Ledesma women and the priest, so I must devise some trick to see once more the girl who loves me.

FRI 25 DECEMBER: Well off the coast at 22 53 South, opposite Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. This afternoon all the bitterness I have harbored against Fray Baltazar vanished, for when the entire ship's company had gathered on the afterdeck during a fine spring afternoon for holy services honoring the birthday of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the tall, dark priest said, following his prayers: 'Let there be harmony on this blessed day. I have prayed in Catholic Spanish for my countrymen, will you pray in Protestant English for yours,' and to my amazement he placed his Spanish Bible in my hands, and I was so moved that for some moments I could not speak, but then I heard my uncle's voice growling: 'Get on with it, lad,' and a torrent of words sprang from my lips: 'Almighty G.o.d, we have come a long voyage in our st.u.r.dy ship, and we have helped one another. We could not have navigated the coast of the Spanish Main without the guidance of Master Rodrigo, and for his good work we give thanks. We have been aided by the prayers and guidance of Fray Baltazar, a worthy priest. Three times we've called upon Captain McFee to command this ship, and may he get us home safely at last with our treasure intact.'

It was simply impossible for me to close a Christmas prayer without mention of the girl I had come to love, so to the astonishment of the crew I added: 'Dear G.o.d, I in particular thank Thee for having let me know on this long voyage a blessed young woman whose courage never faltered on dangerous days or failed to inspire on good. She has been one of our best sailors, so protect her wherever her voyaging takes her.'

As I said these words she broke away from her mother and came to stand by me, and no one sought to take her away. And as she stood there I thought of the remarkable adventures my band of buccaneers has known: the hasty decision to go our own way after Captain Morgan stole our just rewards; the long march and sail across the isthmus; the battles; the soaring victories against vast odds; the defeats at Panama and Arica; the little ships we captured and the big ones from which we ran; the Clouds of Magellan at night; the Strait of Magellan that we never found ... And then a hand of ice seemed to grip my heart, and in a low voice I ended my prayer: 'Merciful G.o.d who protects sailors and brings them home after long voyages, send Thy special love on this holy day to the Indian David, castaway on Juan Fernandez, alone. Send a ship to rescue him and bring us all safely back to our home ports.'

FRI 8 JANUARY IN THE NEW YEAR 1672: On this day when nothing of significance happened, not even a good meal or a fight among the men, we crossed the equator and all began to breathe with more excitement, for we are nearing Port Royal.

FRI 29 JANUARY: Day of victory, day of despair! For some days Captain McFee, Uncle Will, Fray Baltazar and I have held urgent meetings to devise a plan for delivering the Ledesma women and our prisoners into proper Spanish hands, and to collect a ransom if it could be arranged. No one, not even my uncle, wants to kill or otherwise harm them, but to sail boldly into Cartagena with them would be too risky. They do not want us to land them in Port Royal, where they would have no a.s.surance of ever making their way back to Cartagena, where their families await them.

Captain McFee and my uncle were determined to get rid of them, because to keep them might involve too many problems, but how to do this they did not know. So it was left to Fray Baltazar and me to plan some procedure, and as we began talking on a corner of the afterdeck I asked if I could invite Mompox to join us, since he as a man of color had so much to gain or lose by what we did, and Fray Baltazar countered: 'And I should like to have the a.s.sistance of Master Rodrigo, our navigator,' to which I agreed.

When we were a.s.sembled, the priest said gravely: 'We're talking about life and death. A mistake, and we could all die. So let us seek the right conclusions.'

Mompox said with admirable clarity: 'Considering my color, I must not go wherever men of ill will can throw me into slavery. Not Cartagena. Not Barbados. Not Jamaica. And not the southern American colonies.'

'What's left?' Baltazar asked and Mompox said: 'Put me on some trading ship to Boston,' and we agreed that if possible we would do so.

'Now, how do we get the Ledesmas back to Cartagena?' Baltazar asked, and I broke in: 'Ines stays with me,' and he said in that grave voice I had come to respect: 'My son, it cannot be. She is of one world, you of another.' Very firmly he added: 'It will not work. It will never happen.' When he saw my dismay he added: 'My son, you've had great triumphs on this voyage. Captain of your own ship. Successful in battle. Courage that no man can challenge. Leave it at that.' Seeing that I was still distraught, close to tears, really, he said: 'My son, the voyage ends. The ship sails into its harbor and new lives begin, lives of honor and dignity, and proper loves. Believe me, believe me, she to her haven, you to yours. That's the better way.'

I was unwilling to accept such a decision, but then I heard a sailor ask apprehensively: 'How do you make such an exchange?' and Master Rodrigo said: 'When we pa.s.s the isle of Trinidad we sail west along the Spanish Main until we meet a Spanish ship. We signal our peaceful intentions, we meet, and we Spaniards transfer over to the other ship.'

'How can we send such a signal?' I asked, and Fray Baltazar replied: 'I don't know, but we must.'

When we gathered all hands to explain what our tactics were going to be, both the Spanish side and the English immediately saw the danger, as Captain McFee said: 'They'll think we're pirates and run. And if we chase after them, they'll fire upon us, and then by G.o.d, we'll sink them.'

'I would trust no Spanish ship,' Will rumbled, and many of our men supported him, but Master Rodrigo said: 'There is no other way,' and my uncle said grudgingly: 'We'll try, but I and my men will have our guns trained on them every minute,' and Master Rodrigo said: 'And I am sure they'll have their guns on us. In the meantime, make us two big white flags, very big, with the word PAX painted in blue letters on each.'

For the rest of that day we coasted along the northern line of Trinidad, and five days later we pa.s.sed the great salt pans at c.u.mana where the battles with the Dutch fleets had occurred. Then, this morning, when we had almost given up any chance of encountering a Spanish vessel, we came upon one, and a ridiculous affair developed.

They, seeing us and our rakish form with cannon, decided that we were buccaneers about to board them, and fled, while we, with our two white flags aloft, chased after them. But the harder we tried to overtake them, the faster they scampered away, and it looked as if our plan would end in disruption, when Captain McFee made a clever maneuver which put the Giralda directly ahead of the Spanish ship, whereupon it had to slow down. Then he ordered a small boat to be lowered, and into it climbed Master Rodrigo, Fray Baltazar, my uncle and me, and with our own small white flag showing, we rowed over to the startled Spaniard. With my uncle pointing his gun directly at the heart of the Spanish captain and Spaniards pointing their guns at us, Master Rodrigo called in a loud voice: 'We have Spanish prisoners for Cartagena!' and Fray Baltazar called out the more significant message: 'We have aboard the wife and daughter of Governor Ledesma. I am their priest, Fray Baltazar.'

The two messages, especially the latter, had a volcanic effect. Two boats were lowered, white flags were hastily improvised and the captain himself, after concluding that we were telling the truth, leaped down, followed by three other officers, and rowed almost frantically to our ship. When we four climbed aboard with them, we witnessed a most unusual scene. The captain, spotting Seora Ledesma and her daughter, ran forward, bent down on one knee, and kissed the mother's hand, saying in a loud voice: 'I greet you, Condesa de Cartagena!' and when Ines' mother showed surprise, the other officers crowded about to tell the good news: 'Yes! The king has made your husband Conde de Cartagena!'

It was then that my despair began, for it was obvious that both the Spaniards and the Englishmen were eager to get the prisoners off our ship and onto theirs, and as the first small boats pulled away filled with sailors and common prisoners, the four important Spaniards-Rodrigo, Baltazar and the two Ledesma women, now the wife and daughter of a count-prepared to leave us. Our sailors helped the two men to gather the rude possessions they had acquired during our voyage together, and Mompox and I helped the women, but when I had Seorita Ines' baskets packed and I started toward the rough ladder with them, anguish choked me, and I could not bear to think that I was bidding farewell to this precious young woman who loved me and who I loved with all my heart. It was an anguish I could not bear, and when she ran to kiss me goodbye, I thought: I can never let her go. But then Fray Baltazar put his arm about me and drew me away: 'Remember, lad, all ships come home to harbor. Ours heads west, yours east,' and he embraced me, adding as he climbed down into the waiting boats: 'You've played the man, Ned, and you can be proud.'

But the departure was not to be peaceful, for to the surprise of the Spaniards, young Lady Ines flatly refused to leave the Giralda. Clasping her arms across her chest, she said in sharp, clear tones: 'We love each other. We have been ordained by G.o.d to be man and wife and you cannot tear us apart.' Well, they landed on her as if they were an army attacking a fort. The captain of the Spanish ship said solemnly: 'Senorita Ines, you are the daughter of a conde. You represent the honor of Spain. You simply must ...'

The condesa broke in: 'You are a silly headstrong child. How can you possibly know ...?'

But it was Fray Baltazar who uttered the sensible words: 'Sweet child, it is marvelous in spring when flowers bloom for the first time. But the real meaning of the tree comes later, when it is laden with fruit, as G.o.d intended. You've had a wonderful introduction to love, none finer, but the great years lie ahead. Kiss this fine young man farewell, and let us head for those other, better years.'

I bit my lip when I heard him say those words, and I swore I would not allow my tears to be the last thing she saw of me, but my attempt at courage was not needed, for now Uncle Will stormed forward, shouting: 'What about our ransom money?' and other sailors took up the cry, and there might have been a riot spoiling everything, for the Spanish captain shouted in broken English: 'No! No! Ransom n.o.body.' But again Fray Baltazar a.s.sumed command, and as the men from the Spanish ships listened attentively, he reminded all of us of forgotten days: 'When these Englishmen captured us, they could have killed us all, shot us, drowned us. I informed them that these two lovely women were from an important family that would pay a ransom for their safe return.'

He stopped and looked at us: 'I cannot say what drove these men to save our lives, mine and Master Rodrigo included. I would like to think it was Christian charity. But if it was only the lure of money, I can a.s.sure you that they earned it. Here we are, all of us, unscarred. Captain, if you have any funds aboard your ship, you owe it to these men,' and when there were murmurs against this decision, he said: 'Captain McFee and I will row over to your ship to collect whatever you have.' Some of us went along, of course, well armed, and a surprising number of coins was collected. When we brought them back to the Giralda, the priest delivered them with only four words: 'A debt of honor,' and the exchange was concluded, women for silver.

I wanted to ride in the boat with Ines to her ship, but that was not possible, for she rode in one of the Spanish boats, and it would be hoisted aboard as soon as its four pa.s.sengers were discharged. So I stood by our rail, where my uncle and his gunners kept their aim on the Spanish ship in case treacherous moves developed, and as her boat moved farther and farther away I saw with aching heart that one of the young Spanish officers was tending Ines and wrapping a robe about her feet. Once aboard her deck, so many things happened that she had no chance to wave back at me, and slowly our two ships drew apart. We had sailed together for two hundred and ninety-five days, during which she captured my heart forever.

Then suddenly into one of the Spanish boats that had been left in the water leaped an officer, and the boat came speeding back to ours and voices cried in both Spanish and English: 'Seor Ned! Mr. Ned!' and when I rushed to the railing where the boat would touch ours, the young officer who had tended Ines with the robe shouted: 'She says this is her present to you,' and he handed up Master Rodrigo's precious pearwood-and-ivory backstaff, to which a message had been tied: 'Para Eduardo, mi querido navegante que nos traja a casa.'

SUN 21 JANUARY: On that final day, while I was attending to Seorita Ines, Captain McFee was acquiring important news from the Spanish captain. Spain and England were officially at peace, and the English king, to make happy his Spanish cousins, as he called them, had issued orders that all pirates, English or not, and especially those operating in the Caribbean, should be hanged: 'There have been several dancing in the air at Port Royal, so beware.' His warning was an act of kindness in our favor because of the decent way we had treated the Spanish prisoners.

So it took no prolonged debate for us to decide that we would not head northwest for Port Royal but due east for Barbados, and when this was announced, Captain McFee told us: 'I do not know those waters.' What happened next made me think that buccaneers weren't too bad as sailors, after all, for as soon as we decided to head not for Port Royal but back to Barbados, the men cried: 'That's where Pennyfeather lives!' and they elected me captain again, and for the past nine days I've been in sole command of the Giralda, and because Master Rodrigo was no longer on hand to harry me about his d.a.m.ned calendar, the first thing I did was move dates back, as this entry proves, to the real calendar as intended by G.o.d. However, I did use Rodrigo's pearwood backstaff for navigating past St. Vincent and the Grenadines, coming at dawn this morning to Barbados itself, with the red sun rising behind its beautiful hills.

How excellent it was to reach home and find waiting in our harbor a ship from our Ma.s.sachusetts colony which will carry my trusted friend Mompox-Spaniard-Indian-Negro-to Boston and freedom. As we parted for the last time he reminded me: 'You must tell any ship headed that way to look out for David the Miskito,' and then he asked quietly: 'Ned, may I kiss you farewell?' and out of regard for all that he had done for me, I said yes, to my uncle's disgust.

We were now free to dock our ship and present our Letter of Marque and Reprisal proving that we had authority from the king to protect his interests at sea. The question then arose: 'But have you conducted yourself in a worthy way and not as pirates?' and now I handed over the letter from the Spanish captain which certified that 'the officers and crew of the captured Spanish galleon Giralda did pay gentlemen's respect to the Conde de Cartagena's women during a long sea voyage,' and we were thus doubly saved from hanging. This being Sunday, we thought it irreverent to distribute our prize money.

FRI 26 JANUARY 1672: Our voyage has officially ended, but it required all day for the king's officials to determine and claim their legal share of our prize money, and several hours for us to divide the remainder among our men. After the spoils had been separated into fifty-six equal piles, we distributed them in this fashion: Captain McFee received three shares for his careful service, the first man who relieved him two, and me two for having brought us away from Cape Horn and onward toward Barbados. The thirty-eight sailors one full share each, the fourteen Indians each a half-share for their faithful help, and the sixteen slaves a quarter-share each, adding up to the proper total, less, of course, the fistful of coins we had given Mompox when he boarded his Boston ship. The slaves, to their delight, ended up with enough to buy their freedoms, and we wished them well.

So we returned to Bridgetown, me having lost Ines but, as Uncle Will reminded me, with Spanish gold aplenty to heal my wounds, and on that confusing note, here ends this Log of a Buccaneer.

NED PENNYFEATHER.