Caribbean (52 page)

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 Panamá 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:

F
RI
8 J
ANUARY IN THE
N
EW
Y
EAR
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.

F
RI
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 assurance 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 assistance of Master Rodrigo, our navigator,” to which I agreed.

When we were assembled, 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: “Inés 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 pass 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 God, 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 passed the great salt pans at Cumaná 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 Señora 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 Inés’ 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 Señorita Inés’ 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 Inés 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 God 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 Inés, 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 God 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 nobody.” But again Fray Baltazar assumed 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 assure 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 Inés 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 passengers 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 Inés 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: “Señor Ned! Mr. Ned!” and when I rushed to the railing where the boat would touch ours, the young officer who had tended Inés 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.”

S
UN
21 J
ANUARY
:
On that final day, while I was attending to Señorita Inés, 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 damned calendar, the first thing I did was move dates back, as this entry proves, to the real calendar as intended by God. 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 Massachusetts 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.

F
RI
26 J
ANUARY
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.