Sea Robber (11 page)

H
E AWOKE
with a start. His head was aching from the wine, and his eyelids were gummed together. From the angle of sunlight flooding in through the narrow window, he judged it was nearly midday. He rose and found his borrowed clothes where he had dropped them. His own shirt and breeches were missing, and he supposed that they had been taken away for washing. A tray of food had been placed on a table near the door, and he gratefully ate the bread and fresh fruit. A pleasant surprise was the small jug of chocolate. The fact that the drink was barely warm told him how badly he had overslept. He washed and dressed and went to the door.

He was surprised to find it locked. Crossing the room, he leaned out of the window. Below was the courtyard where the Governor had interviewed him the previous afternoon. But there was no one about. Puzzled, he went back to the door and tried it again. It did not budge. Thinking that whoever had brought the tray of food had locked it by mistake on leaving, he banged on the door with his fist and called out, hoping to attract someone’s attention. There was no response. He returned to the window and tried shouting out of it. The only result was that one of the Governor’s large, rangy dogs loped around a corner and gazed up at his window. Then the creature turned and padded away, ignoring him. Hector sat down on the bed to decide on his course of action.

The door was solidly constructed from a dark, heavy timber. The hinges were of forged iron and opened inwards. He couldn’t see how he’d be able either to force the door open or smash through the panels. He checked the window. It was possible to squeeze through, but then he’d be faced with a thirty-foot drop to the flagstones of the yard. There was no handhold, or even a bush to break his fall. He was still sufficiently uncertain of his situation not to want to be found lying in the courtyard with a twisted ankle.

The wisest course was simply to wait and see what happened. He stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

After a while he thought he heard movement. Someone came quietly to the door and stood outside. He lay still and quiet. A moment or two later he heard the person tiptoe away, then the creak of the stairs. The silence returned.

It was well into the afternoon when he finally heard firm steps approaching the door. There was the rattle of a key in the lock and, when the door swung open, Hector was on his feet, ready to face whoever was there. In the doorway were the same two uniformed soldiers who had escorted him the previous day.

‘What’s happening?’ he asked, both puzzled and angry.

‘Come with us,’ was the flat answer.

Flanked by the two guards, he was taken down the stairs to the entrance hall and along a passageway to large double doors, which opened into what was clearly a council chamber. At its centre stood a long, well-polished table flanked by a score of chairs with ornately carved backs. The whitewashed walls were hung with formal portraits, including one of the Spanish king. In one corner of the room was an altar surmounted by a large crucifix.

But the sight that held his immediate attention was the figure of Jezreel. His friend stood next to one of the tall windows, the light falling full on him. His wrists were bound in front of him, his shirt was ripped so that it hung off his back and there was a blood-stained bandage around his neck. The enormous ex-prizefighter regarded Hector with an expression of both relief and exasperation.

‘Jezreel!’ Hector burst out.

‘Ambushed,’ grunted Jezreel. He had a badly swollen right eye, and his lip was cut.

‘Your friend is extremely difficult to subdue,’ murmured Don Alonso. Hector swung round to find the Governor standing quietly to one side of the room. ‘The intention was to capture your ship, Señor Lynch. But we failed.’

The Governor’s manner was as friendly and gracious as he’d been at dinner the previous evening. By contrast his nephew, standing beside him, looked less at ease.

‘You said you were willing to trade,’ said Hector heatedly.

The Governor allowed himself an apologetic smile. ‘Impossible, I’m afraid. The Viceroy’s edict is quite clear on that subject.’

‘Then why ask me to write to Captain Swan?’

Don Alonso made a slight dismissive gesture. ‘The note proved to be unnecessary. In the event, Luis here was able to attract a boat ashore from Captain Swan’s ship by wearing your clothes and standing where he could be seen.’

‘It fooled me,’ growled Jezreel. ‘I thought it was you and volunteered for the launch to get you. They jumped us the moment we set foot on the beach.’

‘But for the bravery of your friend here, the ambush would have succeeded,’ confessed the Governor. ‘He held us off long enough for the rest of his party to get away in their boat. My men claim they shot and wounded several of the pirates as they fled.’

Hector’s thoughts were in turmoil. ‘But the
Cygnet
is a genuine merchant ship. You could have refused to trade and merely turned her away. There was no need to attack.’

The Governor shook his head sadly. ‘Señor Lynch, I was dealing with pirates.’

‘You have no proof of that.’ Hector was despondent.

‘I had all the proof I needed from the moment you asked for the Alcalde.’

Hector didn’t understand. ‘Don Fernando de Costana?’

‘Señor Lynch, you underrate the machinery and intelligence of our government. In Valdivia we may be at the farthest end of the viceroyalty, but everyone knows of the Alcalde and how his wife was kidnapped at sea. We have been told to be on our guard, to keep watch for the culprits. Little is known of them, but for the man who acted as their interpreter when negotiating the ransom. He is described as being about twenty years old, with dark hair, eyes possibly hazel or light brown, courteous and well educated, and speaking excellent Castilian with a slight trace of a Galician accent. You should be flattered.’

Hector felt light-headed and foolish. He was dismayed that his past had been uncovered with such apparent ease.

‘What’s happened to the
Cygnet
?’ he asked.

‘She put out to sea the moment the launch returned to her. Unfortunately she was out of range of the batteries.’ The Governor sighed. ‘Now I have to deal with two pirate vessels in the area, maybe more. I have no ships capable of tackling them. That is why I’d hoped to capture the
Cygnet
and turn her against the other.’

Hector tried to gather his thoughts. The
Cygnet
was gone, taking Dan and Jacques with her. He and Jezreel were in the hands of the Spanish authorities, and his identity was known. His situation could hardly have been bleaker.

‘What will you do with Jezreel and me?’ he asked.

The Governor spread his hands in a gesture of sympathy. ‘Officially I can have you tried as pirates now, and executed if found guilty. Yet last night, over dinner, I found it difficult to believe that you are such an incorrigible criminal. I prefer to delay matters by sending a report to the Audiencia in Lima and keep you in custody while awaiting instructions.’

Beside him, his nephew shifted uncomfortably. ‘Perhaps Senor Lynch will give his parole.’

The Governor brightened. Addressing Hector, he said, ‘If you promise that neither you nor your colleague will try to escape, there will be no need to lock you up.’

Hector looked across at Jezreel, still standing by the window. ‘The Governor asks for our parole,’ he said.

‘It makes sense,’ said the ex-prizefighter with a shrug.

Don Alonso beamed. ‘It is decided then. You will remain here as my guests while we wait to hear back from the Audiencia.’

His nephew seemed relieved. ‘Hector, you’ve made the right choice. Escape from Valdivia is impossible. By sea you’d need to get a boat and get past the batteries. An attempt by land would be suicidal. The Mapuche would take you and kill you.’

But Hector had no thought of escape. His ill-judged plan to locate Maria was now in ruins. He had been naive and foolish.

H
IS DISMAY
deepened some days later. In the main plaza he encountered Don Alonso surrounded by several of his great hairy hounds. The dogs were milling about, clearly excited.

‘I’m on my way to inspect the silver mine. Would you care to join me?’ asked the Governor cheerfully. ‘The workings were abandoned several years ago as unprofitable, but it is my duty to carry out an occasional check to make sure there is no illegal activity.’ He bent down and fondled the ears of one of the hounds. ‘We’ll go on horseback. My dogs will relish the exercise.’

One of the hounds stretched up its muzzle and licked his master affectionately. Something stirred in Hector’s memory.

‘Are your dogs a special Peruvian breed?’

Don Alonso smiled indulgently. ‘My family came to the Americas with the first conquistadors and they brought the ancestors of these dogs with them. Trained to attack, they terrified the Indians.’ He leaned across to pat another of the hounds. ‘Mind you, this fellow’s too fat and lazy to terrify anyone.’

‘I’ve seen a dog very like him, though a different colour, a brindle.’

‘Where was that?’ Don Alonso asked. He was making polite conversation.

‘On a ship, though the unfortunate creature was dead, perfectly preserved.’

The Governor looked up sharply. Hector had his full attention now. ‘On a ship, you say?’

‘Yes. The vessel was stranded in the ice, off the Cape.’

All of a sudden Don Alonso had gone very still. His eyes were fixed on Hector’s face.

‘Tell me about it,’ he said very softly.

‘It was on the way around the Cape, after we’d been driven far to the south. We came across a vessel abandoned on an ice island. She was badly damaged.’

‘You know the name of the vessel?’

‘No. I went aboard with Jezreel to investigate. I found the man who I suppose was her captain. He was lying dead in his bunk. A dog like this was on the floor close to him.’

The Governor stood stock-still, scarcely breathing. It was the first time Hector had seen him look so serious and solemn.

‘What did you do?’

‘Our ship couldn’t delay. I only had time to cover the captain’s face with a blanket. He wore a medallion on a gold chain around his neck. One side of the medallion was worn smooth, the other had a crest on it, the figure of a bird. It was too dark to see clearly.’

‘Did you keep the medallion?’ The Governor’s voice was very low, almost menacing.

Hector shook his head. ‘I felt it would be robbing the dead.’

The Governor let out a slow breath. ‘Our visit to the silver mine can wait for another day. I want you to come inside and repeat your story to Luis.’

‘Why?’

‘That poor man was his father and my brother. He always wore that medallion as a keepsake. It belonged to his wife’s family. She died giving birth to Luis.’

Don Alonso led Hector back indoors and, as they waited for the ensign, the Governor told Hector more. ‘Two years ago Luis’ father set out from Valdivia on a small vessel. He was attempting a passage around the Cape, hoping to open a supply route. He took his dog with him. But nothing more was ever heard from him or the crew.’

‘Did no one report back? It appeared that the rest of the crew had taken the boats and abandoned the ship.’

The Governor shook his head. ‘We heard not a single word. We accepted he had died. But for these past two years Luis and I have long wondered whether he was drowned or killed by the Indians, or dead of fever.’

Hector was about to say how sorry he was to bring such sad news when the Governor gave him a long, sober look and said in a contrite voice, ‘Señor Lynch, you cannot imagine how great a service you have done me and my nephew. Now, at least, we know the truth. It makes me ashamed that I have withheld from you what I know of the whereabouts of the Alcalde, Don Fernando.’

For the first time since arriving in Valdivia, Hector felt a brief surge of hope, though it was mingled with a sense of foreboding. The Governor was already speaking again. ‘But I think it would be better if you began by telling me exactly why you are seeking the Alcalde.’

Somehow Hector was sure the Governor was a person in whom he could confide.

‘Don Alonso, the Alcalde’s wife has a companion, a young woman by the name of Maria. The sole reason I returned to Peru is to try to find Maria again. That is why I need to find the Alcalde.’