Pirate Wolf Trilogy (121 page)

She tipped her face up and closed her eyes,
letting the sun work its magic. Only then did she allow herself to
think of her father, wondering if he was sitting somewhere close by
enjoying the same wash of sunlight on his face. She had not allowed
herself that hope. She had not even dared to allow herself to hope
that Gabriel Dante might actually help her find him.

"Father," she whispered. "I am here. I am
close. Please let me believe you are still alive."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Half a mile away, Dante was studying the
land and the surrounding sea with a practised eye. He and Stubs
were standing on high ground, which gave them a clear view of the
island extending several miles in all directions, including the
broken scattering of atolls and islets that extended south and
west. Stretching out to the east was the wide channel of the
Tongue, the silvery surface glittering with the newly risen
sunlight. Muertraigo’s galleons were there, looking close enough to
keep Dante and Stubs tucked behind a copse of palm trees lest their
silhouettes stand out against the clear sky. Two of the ships,
Gabriel was pleased to note, showed heavy damage from the previous
night. One of them was listing so badly he doubted it would see
another sunrise.

The fourth ship had finally joined the
others and appeared to be a merchantman. Her reticence in coming
forward last night could be explained by the fact she only carried
six guns. It was a light carrack, the type used by the Portuguese
to trade in the islands, probably captured and taken in prize by
Muertraigo without him having to fire a shot.

“Looks like he’s goin’ to lose the one for
sure,” Stubs predicted. “She’s already taken on too much water to
make it through the reef. We could finish her off and blow by
without workin’ up a sweat.”

“We could,” Gabriel agreed
quietly, his glass still trained on Muertraigo’s flagship,
the
San Mateo
.
The top fifteen feet of the main mast had been shot away and crews,
looking like ants crawling up and down shrouds, were working
feverishly to cut away the broken timber and bolt a replacement in
place.

He moved the glass to
follow the coastline, relieved to see that all four ships had
drifted past the opening to the passage where the
Endurance
was currently
trapped… or hidden, as he preferred to think of it. They were still
alarmingly close and he made a mental note to warn the men against
building any fires or, as the gun captains liked to do, clear the
barrels of the cannon with gunpowder.

“It’ll take us at least a
full day to turn the
Endurance
around and haul her out to open water again,”
Stubs growled.

“After that, three days to the Cay, three
days back.” Dante shook his head. “Once Muertraigo sails into that
bight, we’ll lose him. Whether he goes straight through or tucks
himself behind any one of a score of atolls and cays… we could lose
him.”

Stubs glanced sidelong at his captain,
suspecting he was not going to like what he was about to hear.

“Fifty men could cut inland and keep them in
our sights. We could rig a system of signal fires showing which way
we went, leaving a man at each post. Moreover, those repairs he’s
making are temporary and won’t hold up in a high wind. He’ll have
to pull in somewhere to seat a new mast, which could buy us extra
time.”

Stubs squinted into the sunlight and removed
his cap, scratching at the stubble starting to grow back on the
left side of his head. “Sailors sail on account o’ they don’t like
to march. And yer father might be pissed at ye takin’ it all on
yerself.”

“Which is why I propose you
take the
Endurance
to Cay and bring back reinforcements.”

“Knew I wouldn’t like it,” Stubs grumbled.
“Yer father won’t like it either, an’ I’m more afraid of him than I
am o’ you.”

Dante arched an eyebrow.

“Sorta,” Stubs added.

“If you have a better suggestion, I am all
ears.”

“Take a hundred men, not fifty. Still leaves
me enough to sail the sow to home port, an’ gives you enough to set
up a warm reception. Take Giddings. He’s the best gunner we ‘ave,
an’ he likes to blow things up.”

Dante nodded. “We’ll take as much powder and
shot as we can carry, as well as food for several days.”

While his captain listed the supplies he
would need, Stubs leaned over and spat. “Me mam wanted me to be a
priest. I should’ve given it a try.”

“And deprive all your wives of your lusty
attention?” Gabriel laughed. “You wouldn’t have had half as much
fun.”

“Oh, aye. I’m laughin’ hard enough to piss
my breeks every night.”

~~

A shadow passed across Eva’s face blocking
out the sun. She opened her eyes and saw Dante standing over her,
his hands on his hips, his broad-brimmed leather hat shielding his
eyes from the glaring sun.

She looked around quickly as she
straightened, but they were alone on the top of the cliff. The
other men in the landing party had gone below already and were on
the little beach with Eduardo.

"I thought I told you to stay with the
boat."

"I did. I mean, I was. But we went into the
water to wash off and there was no sun down there, so..."

He grunted under his breath and continued to
scowl.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I didn't see the harm
and Eduardo did try to stop me so please don't punish him for my
stubbornness."

Dante swept his hat off his head. He raked a
hand through the tangled locks of his hair and sat on the rock
beside her. "I think you'll feel punishment enough come sundown."
He turned and let his gaze run across her cheeks and nose. "If
you're not used to the tropical sun, it can blister your skin in
under an hour."

Eva raised a hand and patted it across her
cheeks, which were, indeed, feeling warm and tight. Dante snorted,
reached over, and plopped his big hat on her head. "You're not
curious about what we saw?"

"Of course I'm curious. I didn't think it
was my place to ask, however. Not right away, at any rate."

He leaned back and stretched his long legs
out, crossing them at the ankles. "We stand about a mile in from
open water. The channel is curved enough to conceal us from view,
and there are a dozen others just like it winding around the atolls
like paths in a maze. The chances of our Spanish friends stumbling
upon this particular one—if they are intent upon searching for
us—are about ten to one. Fair enough odds in our favor."

"Then you saw the galleons?"

He studied her face, admiring the effect of
his hat perched on a pale cloud of yellow hair. He glanced below
and saw the other men in the landing party stripping down naked and
diving into the water.

"Are you fit enough for another climb?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Then come. Have a look for yourself."

He stood and Eva followed as he led her
along another rocky path. She saw crawly things scurrying away into
the gorse, and stayed close to Dante. He helped her up the steeper
inclines and held her hand as they covered the last twenty yards or
so up toward the top of the highest point of solid rock. There he
directed her to stand behind a boulder and handed her the
spyglass.

The view, even without the
benefit of the glass, was breathtaking. From this height, she could
see the distinctly deeper blue of the channel and the paler
turquoise stripe that indicated the treacherous shallows above the
long and jagged line of the reef. The latter seemed altogether too
close to the surface to have allowed a ship the size of the
Endurance
to pass across
with only a few scrapes and bumps.

"High tide would have raised the level a few
feet," Gabriel explained, seeing where she had the glass trained.
"But as you can see it was sheer mermaid luck that led us through
one of the gaps in the reef rather than into a solid bank of
coral."

"I thought you said you were not a
superstitious man, Captain, yet you believe in luck?"

He chuckled. "Not as much as I believe in a
clever captain who sent extra jolly boats probing into the
fog."

She had to tip her face up to see from under
the brim of his hat. "A ship caught in gale force winds would not
have had that luxury," she said softly.

"No. But the storm swells might have been
high enough to carry her over."

Eva looked back at the ragged stretch of
coastline extending miles in either direction. She found it
difficult to believe a ship could pass over the wide ledge of the
reef in a raging storm and not end up smashed to bits against the
hostile shoreline.

Something else caught her attention and she
directed the glass out into the Tongue. Two of the galleons had
already passed through the reef and a third was making for the gap,
leaving the damaged ship listing badly with sails reefed and no
signs of activity on deck. She was about to compliment Gabriel for
having destroyed one of Muertraigo’s ships when she sent the glass
flying back to the two ships that had crossed the reef.

Her mouth dropped open on a sudden intake of
air. Her knees gave way and the spyglass clattered onto the
rocks.

Dante caught her around the waist. "Eva? What
is it? What's wrong?"

"It's my father’s ship," she gasped. "It's
the
Cormorant
."

"Your
father
?"

"No. No, not my father. But it is his ship.
The one Lawrence Ross brought down to search for him."

"The hell you say." Dante steadied her
against the boulder and took up the glass again, focussing on the
carrack. "Are you absolutely certain?" He looked down when there
was no immediate answer and saw that she was leaning forward, her
head in her hands. "Eva! How can you be certain it's your father’s
ship?"

"I know the
Cormorant
well enough,"
she said without looking up. "I've been on it a hundred times. Look
closely at the figurehead in the bow and you will see two sets of
wings on the bird. It was damaged and repaired in haste but my
father thought the double wings made the creature look more
mystical.” She lifted her head out of her hands. “It is his ship,
the one Lawrence Ross took out of Portsmouth after sending his
henchman to steal the coins and leave me for dead in a burning
house.” Her face was hard, her lips were pressed into a thin, grim
line. “You wondered how Muertraigo knew to search here, Captain?
There is your answer. Lawrence Ross brought them here. He betrayed
me and now he is intent upon betraying my father.”

“But how would he know Muertraigo?”

“He has been to the Indies several times. You
said Muertraigo had been in command of the garrison in the port of
Havana for many years before turning pirate. It is entirely
possible their paths crossed back then. More than possible in
fact,” she added, rubbing her temples as if to clarify a memory. “I
remember hearing Lawrence and my father arguing over the enormous
bribes they were forced to pay in order to get the Spanish to honor
their letters of marque.”

She stopped rubbing and looked up. “The
letters. He took my father’s letters along with the coins and the
baker’s letter. Perhaps he made the connection to Spanish Wells
sooner than we did.”

Dante nodded as more of the puzzle pieces
fell into place. “Or with Muertraigo’s help.”

He peered through the spyglass again, aiming
it west along the bight. There was still no way to be certain the
Nuestro Santisimo Victorio
had come this way, though the
evidence was piling up in an ever-convincing array.

Gabriel rubbed a hand across the nape of his
neck. His instincts were telling him Eva had been right all along.
Her father had found
La Fantasma
, and the treasure galleon
was somewhere in the maze of islets and atolls.

“Come,” he held out his hand. “We need to get
back to the ship.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

He quickly outlined the plan he had discussed
with Stubs and when he was finished, she planted her feet into the
ground and forced him to stop.

“I’m coming with you,” Eva said.

“Back to the ship? Absolutely.”

“No. I’m coming with you when you follow
Muertraigo.
”

“Like hell you are.”

“Like hell I’m not.”

Dante’s cheek twitched. The faintest hint of
a breeze was lifting strands of silvery blonde hair and making them
glitter against her throat; one strand in particular clung to her
lower lip and drew his eye like a compass pointing the way to
remembered pleasures.

“We are not going for a stroll in the park.
We will be moving fast and hard over terrain as treacherous as
anything I’ve ever seen before. We will be wading through swamps
filled with snakes and leeches and there will be no time to worry
about sore feet or aching backs.”

“You will not hear me complain.”

“We will eat and drink only what we can carry
ourselves, and that above heavy weapons, powder, and shot.”

“I will carry my share.”

“If you get blisters on your heels or if you
fall down a crevice in the rocks we can spare no time or men for
hauling you out.”

The green of her eyes sparkled ominously as
she stood steadfast in front of him, her face tipped stubbornly
upward. She planted her hands on her hips, mirroring his. “If I am
blistered, Captain, I will walk on bloodied feet. If I fall down a
crevice it will my own fault and I would expect you to leave me
there. I have not come all this way and endured all that I have
endured only to stay behind and wave a handkerchief over the rail
of the ship.”

Dante glared. It was not often a man stood up
to him and argued much less a yellow-haired wisp of a girl. “Tears,
madam, will not strengthen your plea, nor will they sway my
decision.”