Pirate Wolf Trilogy (64 page)

“Now, Mr.
Anthony,” she said clearly. “Haul in sail if you please and bring
her hard to starboard. Leave me the mizzen for steerage and have
men ready on the bills.”

Varian looked
up as a hail of shouts relayed the orders and the men in the yards
came alive. They reeled in the sheets of canvas as fast as their
hands could pull the cables, tying them off in thick bundles that
lined the spars like rolls of sausage. On deck, men took positions
along both sides of the ship holding thick oak staffs whose purpose
Varian could only guess.

Their speed did
not noticeably decrease. If anything, the ship seemed to gather
momentum as she began to turn and was carried sideways by a wave.
The surf took them sliding gracefully around a spithead of rock and
it was then that Varian saw the opening. For a moment he thought
they might yet sweep right past it and he looked hard at the waves
crashing not two hundred yards off the larboard beam, close enough
he could feel the mist dampening his face.

But he could
also see the faces of the men in the tops and lining the rails.
Some were laughing outright, enjoying the exhilaration of the
ride.

“Oh my good
sweet God!” Beacom wailed into his hands. “We are doomed! We shall
be wrecked! Dashed upon the rocks! Drowned after all that we have
endured!”

“For pity’s
sake, Beacom, we are not going to drown. Open your eyes, man,”
Varian added with dawning comprehension, “and behold a feat of
unparalleled brilliance.”

He moved
to the rail again. The timing had been precise, the turn had been
exact, and the ship was gliding smoothly forward between two sheer
walls of rock, leaving the roaring tumult of the waves behind. The
need for the stout poles came clear at once as the stern threatened
to swing too far and grind against the rocks, but the
Iron Rose
answered her rudder and righted
herself, holding regally to the middle of the channel.

Steep walls
covered with lush green vegetation rose on either side of them,
narrowing overhead so that the tangled vines filtered most of the
light and turned it green. There were paths hidden behind the
drooping palms and the greetings exchanged between the men on board
and the men who ran along the concealed ledges echoed back and
forth across the water. Despite the steady decrease in their speed,
the ship continued forward, and Varian was amazed yet again to see
a bright opening at the end of the overgrown tunnel. Another
hundred feet and they broke through to clear water and bright
sunlight, and this time, the sight that unfolded before him was
nothing short of astounding.

They appeared
to have sailed into a huge enclosed harbor that stretched two miles
or more at its widest point. Far from being the gnarled and
uninviting crown of sparsely vegetated rock the island presented to
the outside world, the interior boasted lush green slopes and
masses of thick palm groves. Peppered in amongst the trees were
clusters of thatched huts and stone cottages while pastures higher
on the rim held flocks of sheep and cattle. Lime and lemon trees
grew in profusion and on the far side of the bay, a large pan of
rock used for extracting salt crystals from the seawater gleamed
white against the distant green shore. The sun had already dipped
below the westerly rim of the crater casting most of the slope in
thickening shadows and at the base, there were already lights
twinkling to life in some of the huts, suggesting there were
taverns and shanties down by the main jetty.

The latter
would have rivalled any busy wharf on the Thames. There were
warehouses and long flat buildings built of timber, loading docks
and enormous winches hung with cargo nets. There was even a road
following the shoreline, crowded with carts and wagons. At the far
end was a church, its steeple rising white above the shadows.

There
were also a trio of tall ships sitting at anchor. Two of them were
similar in size and tonnage to the
Iron Rose
; the third was larger, showing twice the number
of gun ports on her decks.

“
That be
Cap’n Simon’s ship,” Johnny Boy said, coming up beside him.
“The
Avenger
.”

Varian
was too overwhelmed to do more than nod. He was also duly
impressed, knowing he was likely among the privileged few who had
seen the vaunted privateer this close without her guns blazing. As
the
Iron
Rose
glided past, he
studied the sleek lines of the ship that had been throwing terror
into the hearts of Spanish captains for over two decades, his gaze
stalling when it came to the unusual figurehead on her
bow.

The face bore
an astonishing resemblance to Juliet. The exaggerated abundance of
carved hair was spread back on either side of the bowsprit, making
it seem as if the wind was sending the wave-like curls flowing out
behind her. The thin slip of a garment she was wearing had fallen
down, baring an oak breast that was as perfectly shaped as the one
Varian had beheld last night. Below that, however, the similarity
ended, for the body was that of a swan, the feathers looking as
real as if they had been plucked out of a bird and glued there, the
enormous black wings spread back against the wind.

“
That be
the Cap’n’s wife, Miz Isabeau,” Johnny Boy said almost reverently.
“It were the only thing he salvaged from her ship, the
Black Swan
before they had to scuttle ‘er.
Not Cap’n Beau, of course. Just the ship. An’ that lady over
there—” he pointed to a sleek two masted vessel that had been
partially hidden by the larger privateer— “is the
Christiana
, Mr.
Pitt’s ship. He designed her himself and she’s the fastest thing
ye’ll ever see on the water. Leastwise she will be when he finishes
her. The other two over yon, are the
Tribute
an’ the
Valor
.
They belong to Cap’n Jonas an’ Cap’n Gabriel.”

There
were a dozen lighter pinnaces anchored closer to shore,
single-masted vessels that were used mainly as transports for
ferrying supplies. They had no specific captains, Johnny Boy
explained, since they were made to be broken down and stowed in the
ballast of a bigger ship. They had also passed a considerable flock
of longboats filled with men, oars, and cables waiting at the mouth
of the channel to row out and fetch the
Santo Domingo
. The
Rose
had traversed the currents and whirlpools safely, but the
Spaniard would need a tow.

Varian
nodded mutely throughout the boy’s chatter, but his attention had
strayed elsewhere. Higher up on the eastern slope of the crater,
where the last of the sun’s rays still washed the hill with light,
a sprawling two storey manor house had been built on a natural
green terrace of land. It was as large and fine as anything that
could be found in the English countryside, built of white stone
with red clay tiles on the roof and latticed verandas wrapping
around the outside of the upper and lower floors. The road that led
from the manor to the harbor looked like a ribbon where it trailed
down through the greenery, and as the
Rose
sidled to a halt and the anchor chain began rattling
through the hawser, small puffs of chalky dust could be seen in the
wake of two riders charging toward the docks.

“That’ll be
Cap’n Jonas an’ Cap’n Gabriel,” Johnny Boy guessed. “Folk call ‘em
the Hell Twins for good reason, so ye might want to have a care.
They don’t take kindly to lubbers. Specially Cap’n Jonas. He has
the red hair o’ the devil and a temper to match.”

“I plan to be
on my best behavior.”

The boy
smirked. “If that was yer plan, it didn’t work too well with Cap’n
Juliet, did it?”

Varian glanced
sidelong and bristled under the lad’s grin. “How old are you,
boy?”

“Twelve come
Michaelmas,” he answered promptly. “My ma’ says I were born under
the sign of the holy star. Mr. Crisp says it were just a lamp
shining up on the hill.”

“Mr. Crisp
sounds like a practical man.”

The boy
shrugged his narrow shoulders. “He’s my da’ so I’m bounden to
listen to him but I like the story of the holy star better.”

“Mr. Crisp is
your father?”

“Said so didn’t
I?”

“I meant no
offense, I just... ” Varian glanced down at the ornately carved
stump that served as the boy’s leg. “Well, I find it odd a man
would allow his son in harm’s way when so much harm has been done
already.”

“
Ye mean
my leg? Aye, I paid the butcher’s bill wi’ that one. Were my own
fault, though. I were carrying a charge of powder and set it too
close to a burning fuse. I looked away for just a blink and
blam
! Off it
went. Mr. Kelly made this for me,” he added proudly, rapping his
knuckles on the carved snake’s head. “Cap’n Juliet give me the
emerald for his eye. Miz Beau gave me the pearls for the scales an’
Cap’n Simon, well, he gave me bloody hellfire for not havin’ better
sense. But I was only six then an’ didn’t know much better. Now I’m
twelve an’ Cap’n Juliet is teaching me how to read charts an’ plot
a course.”

“I am sure you
will make a fine navigator some day.”

“
Terror
o’ the Seas. That’s what I want to be. Just like Cap’n Dante.” The
boy beamed and tugged a forelock. At a shout from the helm, he
moved farther along the rail and unlatched the section that swung
open at the gangway. Several jollyboats had pushed off from various
points along the shoreline and were converging on the
Iron Rose
like iron shavings to a magnet.
The one carrying the Dante brothers was the first to arrive and
Varian moved discreetly back from the gangway as it bumped against
the hull.

The brothers
climbed up the steps set into the ship’s hull and vaulted through
the gangway, shouting for the captain before their boots were
planted solidly on the timbers. They were similar in height and
build, but that was where the resemblance ended. Thanks to Johnny
Boy’s description, Varian could identify Jonas Spence Dante by the
violent shock of flame red hair that curled over his burly
shoulders. His jaw was square, stubbled with the same titian hairs
that bristled across his brows and lashes. A visible scar dented
the left side of his chin, another crossed his neck above the
collar of his battered leather doublet.

By contrast,
the younger of the Hellfire Twins, Gabriel, had a face like a
deposed archangel. Dark mahogany hair surrounded a handsome face
dominated by large, expressive eyes and a sinfully shaped mouth
that would have set women swooning in droves were he to walk into a
crowded London ballroom. Where his brother looked at home in
leather and coarse cotton, Gabriel’s shirt was made of the finest
white cambric, his jerkin was embroidered brocade, his long legs
were encased in supple chamois.

“Well, where is
she?” Jonas’s voice boomed out like thunder. Eyes the color of
tarnished gold scanned the grinning crew from beneath the wide brim
of his hat. “Where is the captain of this sorry excuse for a
sailing ship?”

The forward
hatchway opened and Juliet Dante stepped through.

Varian followed
the sound of men cheering and had to blink to double-check his
vision, for the chameleon had changed her skin again. She was
dressed in tight black doeskin breeches and a snow white silk shirt
that had fonts of lace spilling from the throat and cuffs. The trim
shape of her waist was now accentuated by a form-fitting black
leather doublet that glittered with bands of seed pearls. A short
satin cape was draped artfully over one shoulder, the lining
scarlet, the wings turned back to leave her sword-arm free. Her
hair fell in a mass of auburn curls down her back, covered by a
flamboyant hat with a sweeping scarlet brim. Tall black boots had
wide cuffs folded down over the knee, and at her waist, the
exquisitely wrought Toledo sword.

Varian almost
forgot who he was staring at as he watched her stride across the
deck, the image of a proud, triumphant privateer.

“Who let these
two whoremongers on board my ship?” she demanded. “A pair of gold
doubloons to any man brave enough to throw them overboard!”

Despite the
exited murmur that went through the crew, none were imprudent
enough to step forward and it was with an exaggerated sigh that
Juliet withdrew her rapier slowly from its sheath.

“
I see I
shall have to do the
honors
myself, then,” Juliet announced. “Who first? The mongrel or
the pup?”

Jonas Dante
grinned hugely and drew his sword. “If she’s still dry when I’m
finished with her, Gabe m’boy, you have my permission to lay a
stripe or two across that saucy arse of hers.”

“And you have
mine, Gabriel dearest,” Juliet said, flexing the thin blade of her
rapier in a shiny arc, “to carve that rather over-boastful codpiece
he wears down to its proper size. Unless, of course, I attend to it
first.”

A raucous
cheer went up from the crew of the
Rose
who were hanging over the rails on the foredeck, draped
over yardarms, gathered three deep on the quarterdeck. Wagers were
shouted and shoulders slapped to make room as brother and sister
slowly began to circle one another, their blades hissing to and
fro, slicing the air as they warmed their arms and readied
themselves to engage.

“Gracious good
heavens, my lord,” Beacom whispered over Varian’s shoulder. “Do you
suppose they intend real harm to one another?”

But Varian only
held up a hand to command silence, intrigued by the spectacle
unfolding before him. He and his brothers had often practised their
swordsmanship, but never with unblunted blades, never with such
fearsome intensity in their eyes.