Corsets & Crossbones (28 page)

Brooke rolled her eyes and snatched the parchment from Charlie. 

“Let me see that,” she said, looking at the parchment and reading the quote for the millionth time.  It was faded and smudged now, the fold creases defined and most likely permanent due to its constant use.  “’
And even thence thou wilt be stol’n, I fear, For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.
’”

“How about while you’re figuring it out, we go and get some drinks, hmm?” Charlie asked as lightly as he could.  “I bet you could go for a tall glass of water, darling.”

“I suppose,” Brooke replied slowly, not taking her eyes off of the parchment.  Charlie snaked his arm around her waist and directed her off the docks and into the town, followed by his crew.

Charlie had been to Nassau maybe once or twice before, but wasn’t as familiar with the winding streets of the city as he would like to be.  They passed merchants trying to sell fruit, a fortune teller trying to predict the future, beggars reaching out for anything someone would be willing to give them, children playing in the streets.  Buildings advertised dress makers, blacksmiths, stores, until finally, they reached a pub. 

“Ah, the
Three Kings
,” Charlie said, glancing up at the name of the pub. 

He opened the door for Brooke, and she walked in, wary of her surroundings.  The bar was dark, lit only with candles.  The bar wenches greeted their new customers with a grunt of sorts, and proceeded to continue whatever task they had previously busied themselves with.  There were very few people in the bar, considering it was only about three o’clock in the afternoon, so they took a seat in the back.  Since there were so many of them, they occupied nearly all of back, each taking a seat and starting to think about what they wanted.

“Tell me about the Three Kings, love,” Charlie said, resting his head in his palm.  He wanted Brooke to take a slight break from trying to solve the riddle before she got too frustrated.

“You mean
The Bible
story?” Brooke asked furrowing her brow.  At Charlie’s nodded, she continued.  “Well, the three kings came to see Jesus on the night of His birth, bearing gifts.”  Brooke cut herself short for a moment, and then glanced down at the parchment one more time.  A smile eclipsed her face, and she looked back up at Charlie. 

“It’s a church, Charlie,” she said lowly.  “The treasure is buried in the church.”

“How do you figure that, love?” Charlie asked her, leaning towards her.

“Remember the story of Judas?” Brooke asked, tilting her head to the left.  “You can correlate the story of Judas with this quote.”

“You can correlate many stories with this quote,” Charlie said, quirking his brow.  “It’s not that I do not believe you, darling, but I want to make sure that this is absolutely certain before we go digging up a church.”

“Think about it,” Brooke said, locking eyes with Charlie.  “Judas was one of Jesus’ disciples who betrayed him three times for a sack of gold.  ‘
For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear
.’”

“Sounds good to me, Charlie,” Kenneth put in, squinting to look over at Charlie.

“What can I get for ye?” a bar wench said, interrupting the conversation.  Her hands were on her hips, waiting for their answers impatiently.  Obviously, she did not like dealing with such big groups.

“Actually, do you know where the nearest church happens to be?” Charlie asked her. 

“There only be one church in Nassau, but it’s been abandoned for a time,” she responded, shifting her weight.  “Now, what can I get ye?”

Getting to the church was easier than the crew originally anticipated.  Apparently, Charlie’s Uncle Noah had taken him there before when Charlie was young, hoping to instill some of New Providence’s history in the young lad.  The church itself was rather small, but it still held an air of prestige.  Brooke looked at it with great pride.  The church was no smaller than a home.  The windows were of stained glass, with different pictures that brought to mind that of different Bible stories.  The door was barred shut, with a sign on it that read,
Trespassers Be Warned
.  Besides that, there was little to see surrounding the church.  Not only was it deserted, but it was isolated from the town as well. 

“I bet the church survived the fire,” Hugh murmured, staring at the sight before him.  “The Spanish burnt this place to the ground, but it was later rebuilt in sixteen ninety-five, ten years later.”

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” Charlie asked, stepping towards the door.  His crew followed him, but Brooke stayed in her place.  She was in awe of the structure before her.

As Charlie, with the help of Po, began to pry their way in, Brooke decided to circle the church.  The walls were covered in cobwebs, and some of the webs even had assorted bugs caught in them.  Spiders slowly made their way over to their prey, preparing for a feast.  Some shrubbery was starting to grow on the sides of the wall.  It was hardly recognizable as a church, save for the stained windows.  Brooke’s gaze studied the windows, admiring such talent, such beauty.  She was quite familiar with many of the stories portrayed on the windows, until she reached the very back of the church.  She was familiar with the back window for a very different reason.

An illuminating angel with soft, red hair, and big, deep eyes wearing a white robe stood in the sky.  His halo of gold was over his head, and his wings were fluffy and grand.  He was looking up towards the heavens, his arms spread.  However, that is not what Brooke was looking at.  The angel was surrounded by clouds that matched the color of his wings.  On one of the clouds sat a lion, holding a cross, the very same way Edward de Vere’s lion held a spear.  Brooke stared with her mouth agape, not fully believing her eyes.  This was where the treasure was buried; not in the church, but adjacent to it.

“Charlie!” she exclaimed, her voice shaky.  “Charlie, come here!  I really think you should see this.”

Even when she heard Charlie’s footsteps she could not take her eyes off of the window.  When she felt him beside her, she reached up and pointed to the lion.

“I think the treasure is here,” she murmured, “somewhere next to this part of the church.”

Charlie could not believe what he was seeing either.

“I believe you’re right,” he replied, slight disbelief tainting his tone.  “Men!” he called, tilting his head but keeping his eyes focused on the window.  “Over here, now!”

   Within moments, Charlie’s men had assembled, surrounding the two.  Charlie pointed to the painting, and very firmly, told them to dig carefully below the window.  The men nodded, and proceeded to do their work.  Brooke tried to remain as calm as possible, but her anxiousness got the best of her, and the only way for her to suppress it was to join in with Charlie’s men by helping them dig up whatever was buried.  Charlie chuckled as he watched her dig, quite amused by her impatience, and even decided to join in as well. 

In the next few hours, Charlie, Brooke, and the crew were completely covered in dirt and sweat.  Some had small cuts on their hands, while others dealt with splinters.  Some had to take a break, while others would not relent.  Charlie made sure his men knew they could leave to get water if they needed, but none took up the opportunity.  They were too involved to realize they were thirsty.  As time went on, however, they began to lose their stamina, grumbling that the treasure was not where they thought it was, and this was all a big waste of time.  Even Brooke was beginning to lose faith in her idea; they should have reached the treasure by now, shouldn’t they have?  Charlie reassured her that the treasure had to be there, that the lion in the window reflected that of de
Vere’s seal too much for it to be a coincidence.  And so, everyone continued to dig.

After another hour, when the sun was just beginning to set, Po’s shovel hit something.  Brooke’s ears twitched at the sound, and without thinking, she fell to her knees and proceeded to dig with her hands.  The crew stood back and watched her eagerly.  Brooke could feel the dirt push underneath her nails, she could feel the sweat that rolled down her neck, but she would not quit until she found what Po had hit.  Charlie was standing as close to her as possible without actually being in the hole with her, his brown eyes wide and anxious.

“I’ve got something!” she exclaimed.  “I feel something!”

Immediately, Charlie hopped down and crouched next to her.  His rough hand ran over something hard, with obvious markings etched into whatever it was.  His eyes lighted, and he helped Brooke dig around it, hoping to find the metal handles so they could pull it out much easier.  After searching for what seemed like forever, Charlie’s fingers curled around the handle, and he positioned himself so he could pull it out.  Brooke scrambled up and out of the hole to give him some room, and after three thrusts, Charlie pulled out a large wooden chest.  It took three other men to pick it up and set it on the green grass, away from the dirt.

“It needs a key,” Brooke said breathlessly, sitting next to Charlie to examine the chest.  “Do you still have the key that opened the first chest?”

Charlie nodded, not being able to speak at that moment.  He reached into his breeches’ pocket and pulled out the key.  He took a couple of deep breaths, hoping to steady his heart before scooting closer to chest and placing the key inside the lock.  It clicked, indicating that it fit.  Charlie could not keep the excited grin off of his face as he turned the key.  The lock clicked apart, and Charlie took it out.  Brooke’s heart hammered as she watched Charlie open the chest.

“It’s just books,” Po remarked with disappointment.

“They’re diaries,” Brooke said, wrapping her fingers around a black, leather-bound book, and carefully flipped through the pages.  “They’re de
Vere’s diaries, and his Bible!”  She turned to Charlie.  “These prove that he wrote Shakespeare!  Do you realize how valuable they are?  Now the world will know who really wrote
Romeo and Juliet
and
Hamlet
and
The Sonnets
!”

“I don’t think we should bring them to light, love,” Charlie said slowly, looking at Brooke
with an uncharacteristic smirk in his eyes.  “I do not think people are ready to find out the man whom they believe wrote all of these works is a fraud.”

“If not now, then when?” Brooke asked, looking down at the books in her lap.

“Well, I believe the general population has some form of intelligence,” Charlie murmured, putting the books back in the chest.  “I’m sure some time in the future they will figure it out, but I don’t think now is a good time.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she murmured, reluctantly placing the books in her lap back in the chest.  “I feel like we went through all of that, and now we’re leaving completely empty-handed.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say
completely
empty-handed,” Charlie said, wrapping his arm around Brooke’s shoulder, and pulling her closer to him.

Once the crew carried the two chests back into the ship, and Brooke sent word to her father that they were heading back to Port Royal in hopes to get married, they were off.  It was night now, but neither Charlie nor Brooke could sleep.  They could not believe what they had found next to the church.  Not only did they find evidence proving Brooke’s thesis that Shakespeare did not write his work, but rather, Edward de
Vere did, but the other two chests held riches, gold, and jewels that were worth more than they could fathom.  Once they reached Port Royal, Charlie promised his crew they would all get an equal share, and if they wanted to leave his crew at that point, they were free to do so.

“Love, come here,” Charlie said, motioning for Brooke to stand at the helm.  Charlie had told Kenneth he could go to sleep, and that Charlie would be look after the helm for the night.  “I want to teach you how to sail a ship.”

Brooke quirked a brow.  Charlie rarely had anyone touch the helm of his ship.

“Are you sure?” she asked as she sauntered over to him.

“Quite,” he replied with a smile.

Brooke stood next to him, and Charlie wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close so that she stood in front of him.  He leaned his chin on her shoulder, and took the back of her hands in his and gently rested them on the rudders. 

“Are you nervous about marriage?” Brooke asked quietly, resting the back of her head on Charlie’s chest as she let him steer the ship using her hands.  “Will you still feel free when we are married?”

Charlie kissed Brooke on her throat.  “Where are these worrying coming from, darling?” he asked her with concern.  She felt his stubble gently graze her soft neck, and she sighed with content.

“When I first arrived on your ship, and you introduced me to Heath, he told me how odd it was that you had a woman on board,” Brooke explained.  “I asked why you were not married, and he replied that you did not want to give up your freedom.  I do not want you to give up your freedom for me, Charlie.”