Pirate Wolf Trilogy (78 page)

Dante smiled to
acknowledge the compliment and poured three glasses of rum. The
evening meal had been accompanied by an extravagance of wines; a
full bodied Rhenish plonk with the soup course, a lusty Madeira
with the plates of shrimp and lobster, and a dry, velvety Burgundy
with the mutton and beef. French cognac had been served with
platters of fruit and cheeses for desert, then sweet cane rum had
been enjoyed on the terrace with fat Dutch cigars. Varian’s head
should have been reeling, yet it was oddly clear and focussed.
Anger undoubtedly played a major role in his sobriety, for he had
not only read the document Isabeau Dante had presented with such a
cool flourish, but he had studied a dozen others that, taken
individually might have added to nothing but rumor and gossip.
Taken as a whole they spelled treachery and cunning, deceit and
betrayal. His shock, his confusion had barely permitted him to
enter into any of the conversations that had swirled around the
dining table. He had noticed that Pitt and Simon Dante had
exchanged more than a few quiet words between themselves, studying
him while they did as if they were trying to gauge his true
character. Thus it was with some interest—and wariness—that he
accepted their invitation to join them in the chart room.

“I understand
you have seen military duty.”

“I served in
the army for nine years.”

“You must have
purchased your commission young.”

“I was sixteen.
I had two older brothers who was more interested in business and
family affairs. The army offered a handy escape.”

“Your
brothers?”

“The eldest,
Richard, died almost five years ago. Lawrence was killed in a
duel.”

“Which elevated
you to your current status as duke? Yet it would appear you have
remained in the king’s service.”

Varian
shrugged. “There were power struggles within the court, it seemed a
poor time to show a lack of loyalty when the wolves were
circling.”

“Loyalty is an
admirable quality in any man, regardless of the reasons,” Pitt
said. “You must have excelled at your post to have found yourself
promoted to captain of the royal guard so young.”

“I excelled in
stupidity, if anything. I was handed a note one day warning of a
plot to blow up the king when he opened parliament the next day. I
charged full bore ahead, searched the cellars, found the culprit,
and tore the lit fuse out of the cask with only inches to
spare.”

Dante laughed.
“No wonder the king has an aversion to parliament now. Yet I doubt
your post was given solely as a reward for plucking a fuse out of a
cask of gunpowder. Old Gloriana had a keen eye for young gladiators
as well. She could have ten bull-necked wrestlers stand before her
and unerringly pick out the one with enough fire in his eye to win
the match. Furthermore, anyone who can impress my son with his
swordsmanship—you must show me this move he goes on about—does not
wear a captain’s uniform only because he is pretty. Nor is he
entrusted to sail several thousand leagues to persuade a few dozen
pirates to lay down their arms if he has not earned the trust and
respect of his peers. Trust, I might add, that seems well placed,
for you hold your own council well. I have a thought that you would
be a formidable adversary in a game of chess. But enough flattery.
Tell me about this king. What is the climate of the country with a
Scottish monarch on the throne?”

“I warrant the
people would prefer him over a Spaniard,” Varian said quietly.

Dante smiled.
“And you, sir. What would you prefer?”

“I would prefer
not to be put in the position of having to choose.”

The piercing
silver eyes narrowed. “Either would I. So we’ll leave England to
it’s fate, shall we? You can return to London boasting that you met
the pirate wolf and with diligent and daunting conviction,
persuaded him to keep the peace. I, meanwhile, having been warned
of the overwhelming odds against us, and threatened with the
consequences of disobeying the king’s edict, will keep my ships in
port and let the richest treasure fleet in a decade leave Havana
unmolested.”

Varian felt the
knot in his chest grow tighter. Looking into Simon Dante’s eyes was
like looking into a world of salt and sea spray, of endless
horizons and booming canvas, of smoking cannon and bloodcurdling
violence. He could only guess what kind of fortitude, cunning, and
intelligence a man needed to survive for thirty years in the middle
of the most dangerous waters on earth, but he could say with
absolute certainty that neither cowardice nor caution had played
any part in shaping his destiny.

“If there was
another choice to be made,” he asked quietly, “what would it
be?”

Dante’s eyes
gleamed. “The way I see it, we have but two options. We do nothing,
or we attempt to do something. The nothing part is easy, it’s the
‘something’ that cannot be entered into lightly and might require
more than some of us are prepared to give.”

“If you are
trying to alarm me,” Varian said, “you are succeeding.”

“Good. Only a
stupid man jumps off a cliff without looking first.”

Pitt had
crossed the room and was gazing up at the map of England. “The
logical and practical thing to do is to send you home with all due
haste, your grace, armed with as much proof as we can give you
against Spain’s duplicity. It would then fall to you to convince
the admiralty that Spain has no intentions of keeping the peace.
Quite the opposite: It has every intention of mounting another
invasion fleet and declaring open war.” He paused and glanced
briefly over his shoulder. “Forgive me if I repeat myself, but it
helps when I am thinking aloud.” He turned back to the map. “At
best, a fast ship in perfect weather with strong north easterly
winds would take five weeks to cross the Atlantic. Once it arrived
in London, any letters or documentation would have to be studied
and interpreted by twenty wise, bewigged
councilors
who would then have to argue
and debate the wisdom of trusting the word of a handful of
filibusters who, it would be further argued, might well have
written the documents themselves in order to justify their
own
guerre de
course
.

"Depending on your powers of persuasion, your grace, there
might be some canny admiral who might... and I say
might
dispatch a ship to spy along
the coast of Spain, but that is highly doubtful—no insult against
your integrity intended. I am sure you would argue long and hard
and be quite passionate in your convictions. Nonetheless, the royal
council chambers are filled with old men. We have a king who has
been more engrossed with commissioning a new version the bible than
he has the state of his navy and army. He will hesitate and cavil
and unless he has more evidence than a few letters from a
disgruntled cook in Nombre de Dios, he will pat you on the head and
thank you for your observations, then send you out to your country
estate to shoot pheasant.

“
Meanwhile, the Havana fleet will sail. It will arrive in
Cadiz unmolested, adding roughly forty warships the size of
the
Santo
Domingo
and few dozen
refitted galleons from the India Guard to their armada. They will
then have the winter to prepare, to send flowery messages of
harmony and good will to London, and in the spring they will launch
a fleet full of the sons and nephews of the noble officers and
valiant soldiers who died in the first failed attempt at invasion.
They will sail with vengeance in their hearts, bolstered by the
knowledge that England will not have a formidable force of
privateers to come to her defence this time because we have all
been commanded to keep the peace.”

“You paint a
rather bleak picture,” Varian said.

“Can you find
fault with it?”

In truth, he
could not. The king had been flattered and puffed up with
self-importance when the Spanish ambassador had begun discussing
the possibility of opening the Indies ports to legal trade with
England, and, being a Scot, it would require more than thirty
barrels of gunpowder positioned under his arse before he would
acknowledge the possibility he had been duped.

“There is
another option,” Dante said quietly, dragging Varian’s thoughts
away from the royal council chambers. “It would demand a tremendous
leap of faith on your part, and would likely result in charges of
treason, sedition, and piracy. It would also require ballocks the
size of thirty-two pound iron shot.”

Varian stared
into the unwavering silver eyes. The silence in the room was so
thick, he could hear the muted hiss of the candles burning on the
desk and the distant ringing of a ship’s bell somewhere out in the
harbor.

“You certainly
know how to gain a man’s attention, Captain.”

Dante
acknowledged the compliment with a slow grin. “I haven’t even fired
my heavy guns yet.”

He crossed the
room and pointed to the map of the West Indies, specifically to a
cluster of dots just south of the Baja Mas chain of islands and
spine-chillingly close to Hispaniola. “We’re here, on Pigeon Cay.
Scattered to the south and the east are more than a score of
islands and harbors that serve as home ports for—” he hesitated
over the wording a moment— “similar-minded gentlemen of
misadventure. As you can imagine, the departure of the plate fleets
in the spring and fall draw a certain amount of interest from these
gentlemen and on average, we could expect ten, maybe fifteen
captains to rendezvous at New Providence. The flota is due to leave
Havana within the next four to six weeks. If we act swiftly, we can
dispatch our own small fleet of pinnaces to the neighboring islands
and ports, and, if we offer the proper incentive, we could easily
rouse the interest of thirty, perhaps even forty captains curious
enough to hear what you have to say to them at New Providence.”

“
What
I
have to
say?”

Pitt walked
past, clapping Varian on the shoulder. “You are the king’s
emissary, are you not? You brought documents stamped with the royal
seal offering all privateers amnesty in exchange for keeping the
peace, did you not? Well... we shall simply reword those documents
to offer them full pardon as well as claim to full shares of the
profits for every ship they capture or sink or otherwise deter from
reaching Spain.”

Varian’s jaw
went slack.

“Half of them
cannot read anyway,” Dante said, “so all you will have to do is
brandish a scroll over their heads that looks official. The other
half are noblemen who may have taken a turn down the wrong path at
some time, but who are still staunchly loyal to king and country.
We’ll have to fetch you some fine ducal clothes and put a curl in
your hair, but my daughter assures me you are the very image of a
royal envoy when there is silvered lace at your throat and a purple
plume in your hat.”

“But... I have
no such decree, nothing that even bears the royal seal.”

Pitt smiled and
tipped an eye at the painted murals. “You will. And it will look
authentic enough the king would think he wrote it in his own
hand.”

“More
importantly,” Dante added, “you will have us standing behind you.
Knowing the Dantes are committed, the captains will believe it and
will join the enterprise if only to ensure they get their fair
share of the prize. To that end, I can say with all honesty that
unleashing thirty privateers on a fleet of treasure
ships—especially if they are not burdened with the guilt of
altering manifests to match the ten percent share they apportion to
the crown—would produce the same results as throwing a handful of
gold coins before a crowd of beggars.”

“Can we not
just tell them the truth? That Spain is planning another invasion
and England needs their help?”

“The same
England that has threatened to declare them pirates and placed
bounties on their heads? The same England that turns a blind eye
when one of their ships is captured and the crew is forced to work
as slaves in their mines? The same England,” he added quietly,
“that let the last fleet of privateers who came to their rescue
starve and die by the hundreds from typhus and fever on stinking
ships anchored in the Thames? Have you ever been tarred and
feathered, your grace?”

Varian flushed.
He had been barely three years of age when Sir Francis Drake
rallied England’s seahawks to defend her coast against the last
‘invincible’ armada, but he remembered that many of the stories of
tremendous victory had been clouded by the treatment of the crews
afterward. They were forced to remain in port for months, unpaid,
poorly provisioned, forbidden to go ashore. Hundreds of brave men
starved and died of disease and when the crown eventually did pay
them for their services, it was not one fifth of what they had been
promised. To add insult to injury, the queen blamed Drake for
failing to pursue the fleeing Spaniards, and in the end, he fell
badly out of favor and was forced to retire in disgrace and near
poverty.

“The name and
legend of El Draque still causes grown men to tremble here in the
Indies,” Simon remarked dryly. “I thought him a bit of a blowfish,
myself, but there is no arguing his successes against the Spanish.
Sprinkle his name wisely amongst the rhetoric and you give rise to
the spectre of glory and victory again.”

“Thirty ships
against a hundred are still improbable odds, Captain.”

“Indeed they
are. That is why we will have to work swiftly to improve them
somewhat.”

“I don’t
understand.”

“
The
Spaniards are arrogant and because of their arrogance, they resist
change. Not only do they continue to send their treasure fleets
back and forth twice a year on a regular schedule, but their point
of disembarkation, their route, the method of protecting them has
not changed in over a century. Their fighting tactics are
predictable as well, for there is only one sure way for vessels
that are top-heavy and square-rigged to gain the advantage, and
that is to stand off and pound an enemy with their guns, then close
and depend on their soldiers to carry the battle. That is why more
than half a galleon’s compliment is made up of troops who wouldn’t
know a knot of speed from a knot in a rope. For the same reason,
their command is split. There is a
capitán de mar
who oversees the mariners, and a
capitán del
navio
who commands the
soldiers and in battle, commands the entire ship. Most of the time,
neither one knows anything about the other’s job, thus there is
always a certain amount of confusion on board—more so if the two
commanders dislike one another and turn the whole thing into a
power pissing match. More rum?”