The Pirates and the Nightmaker (18 page)

Once the party was seated in the wardroom, Mr Wicker explained the purpose of his visit.

‘Could you tell me, Mistress Blade, whether the
Firefly
has been stripped of its baggage and cargo?’

‘Are you still worried about your cabin trunk, Mr Wicker?’ asked Jenny Blade.

‘I am rather, ma’am,’ replied Mr Wicker, ‘but I am also concerned with Captain Lightower’s cabin trunk, should he have owned one, and the contents of his cabin, or more precisely his wardrobe.’

Jenny Blade looked at him curiously. ‘As far as I know nothing has been distributed yet,’ she said, ‘not with my instructions, at any rate. Mr Griff?’

‘No, ma’am,’ said Mr Griff. ‘All is as found.’

‘Good,’ said Mr Wicker. ‘Very good.’

Mr Griff and Jenny Blade exchanged glances and I could see they were puzzled by this interest in Captain Lightower’s belongings. In truth, so was I. I did not think Sophie would have shared my information about the captain’s being a Spanish agent. How could she have, without having to explain me?

‘Do you,’ asked Jenny Blade, ‘have any particular reason for this interest in Captain Lightower’s belongings?’

‘I do, ma’am. I certainly do.’

‘Would you care to enlighten me?’

‘It is a little complicated, ma’am,’ said Mr Wicker easily, ‘but I’m sure that once I explain you will understand.’

‘You are teasing me, sir.’

‘That is not my intention, ma’am.’

‘Please proceed.’

‘Ma’am, I know that you consider my plan to travel to Cartagena foolhardy and dangerous.’

‘That, sir, is because it undoubtedly is.’

‘I am not unaware of the dangers, ma’am, and so that is why I have decided to travel to Cartagena in the disguise of Edward Lightower.’

I was surprised by this announcement, but Jenny Blade and Mr Griff were astounded. The lieutenant laughed and Mistress Blade replied, ‘I’m bound to say, Mr Wicker, I can think of no more dangerous or foolhardy enterprise than this!’

However, Mr Wicker merely exchanged a smiling glance with Don Scapino. ‘Perhaps it might appear so, ma’am, but only if you are unacquainted with the real character of Captain Lightower …’

‘Go on.’

‘I have known for a considerable time, ma’am, and Don Scapino here will verify the fact, that our Captain Lightower is and has been a secret agent of the Spanish and in the service of King Philip for a considerable time. Perhaps he should more properly be known as
el capitán.
’

This time Jenny Blade’s surprise was even greater. She quickly turned to the smiling Don Scapino. ‘Is this true, señor?’

‘As much, señora, as it grieves me to betray my country, I must confirm the fact …’

‘The captain was, indeed, preparing to take me directly to Cartagena when your action intervened,’ said Mr
Wicker. ‘My reasoning, then, is as follows. As Nicholas Wicker, English gentleman, arriving at Cartagena I would immediately be the object of suspicion, particularly in the current circumstances, as you yourself have pointed out.’

Jenny Blade smiled.

‘But were I to impersonate the captain, I would be welcomed as one of their own. Instead of suspicion, I would be no doubt fêted and celebrated.’

‘But would you not be recognised as an impostor?’

Don Scapino answered the question. ‘Not at all, señora. The captain would be known only to the
commandante
as a name. His likeness would be a mystery, but with my endorsement — I who am known — Señor Wicker will be accepted as Captain Lightower and welcomed.’

Jenny Blade glanced at Mr Griff, shook her head and smiled.

‘It seems to me hardly less foolhardy,’ she said. ‘What is it that drives you to such lengths to obtain a mere astrolabe?’

Mr Wicker smiled then shrugged, ‘Consider me whimsical, ma’am,’ he said. ‘A whimsy and a foible, no more.’

That was hardly satisfying, but it would have to satisfy Jenny Blade, for Mr Wicker added nothing more.

‘Ma’am,’ said Mr Griff softly, ‘this intelligence regarding the captain, if it could be proved, changes things considerably. The man is not only a fire-raiser and a kidnapper, he is now revealed as a traitor.’

Jenny Blade nodded. ‘Until it could be proved,’ she said, ‘he is not yet revealed.’ She turned to her visitors. ‘Gentlemen, I presume you have written proof of these charges against the captain.’

‘Alas, no,’ said Mr Wicker, after a quick glance at Don Scapino.

I could not resist a quick look at Sophie who was sitting in one corner, intrigued by these revelations. She caught my eye and raised an eyebrow at Mr Wicker’s blatant lie.

‘Do you consider that such proof might be found among Lightower’s belongings?’

Mr Wicker shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but I very much doubt it. Given the unpredictability of events on a warship I would be surprised if he would leave incriminating evidence behind him. No, I merely want to acquire his uniform and identifying documentation.’

‘Even so,’ said Jenny Blade, ‘I think we should search his cabin, and indeed the entire vessel. If this could be proved, it would solve the difficult problem of what to do with the wretch, for I would deliver him to Admiral Vernon forthwith.’

‘You have a problem with what to do with the wretch?’ asked Don Scapino in surprise. ‘Why not hang him and throw him to the sharks?’

Jenny Blade looked at him with distaste.

‘Believe me,’ she said, ‘I have wished to do so, but …’

‘I have an even better idea,’ laughed Don Scapino. ‘I suspect I know why you feel you cannot hang an English naval officer, but “Captain Lightower” will shortly be visiting Cartagena. Why don’t you hang “Nicholas Wicker” the arrant rogue you have locked up in your brig?’

‘That, señor,’ said Jenny Blade coldly, ‘is a perfectly odious proposal, and I prefer not to hear it.’

Her coldness seemed not to affect the Spaniard’s good humour, for he continued to laugh at his suggestion, and was still smiling as he stood up to take his leave.

Although Captain Lightower’s cabin was searched from top to bottom no evidence of his double existence was discovered as my master had predicted. However, Mr Wicker did locate the captain’s naval uniforms and various documents relating to his commission and was well satisfied. The
Perseus
was once again re-named the
Firefly
and brought to the quayside to be provisioned for the relatively short journey to Cartagena de Indias.

A day or so later, with a westering breeze, the ship set sail, negotiated the narrow entrance to the harbour and thence out into the Caribbean Sea.

The journey was uneventful. Mr Wicker seemed to enjoy sporting the uniform of a navy captain and spent a lot of time on the quarterdeck scanning the horizon with a telescope or promenading with the odious Spaniard. I was more or less free to find my own amusement. Besides, much of their conversation was now conducted in Spanish, a language which I discovered Mr Wicker seemed to speak quite well. I supposed they did this to hide what they were saying from the crew.

Before we left, I had spent as much time as I could with Sophie because shortly I would leave her and travel into the unknown. I knew Mr Wicker had plans for me, but they
were equally mysterious, and could well conflict with my own appointed mission.

How could I scheme to snaffle the astrolabe, when I did not know how Mr Wicker himself planned to carry out the theft?

Most of these problems I had not discussed with Sophie. She knew of the astrolabe, of course, through her mother, but I could not tell her of my commission to steal it from Mr Wicker without telling her of Captain Bass. For the same reason, I could not tell her of the astrolabe’s astonishing power and why exactly Mr Wicker so desired it. Some part of me, too, was still unsure of Captain Bass and his motives. This made me unsure of where my own best interests lay. Everything was very, very complicated.

Instead we had talked of her life, her lost house, her hopes and her future. Sophie, I learnt, had the sea in her blood. She spoke of all she wanted to see: the lands of snow to the north, the lands of silver to the south, and all of the new worlds in between. When I told her how I could fly so high that the world spread beneath me like a map, her eyes had shone and I could feel her sudden envy, hard and sharp. This desire could hardly have been otherwise: Jenny Blade and Billy Blade, her pirate father, were sailors and the children of sailors.

Her father’s life, I learnt, like my father’s, had been lost. Mine at the bottom of the sea, her father’s at the end of a rope.

Above all things, Sophie did not want Jenny Blade to share her husband’s fate.

‘Bring me proof,’ she’d begged. ‘Bring me proof of Captain Lightower’s treachery. Such proof could redeem my mother.’

I spent a lot of the time during the journey aloft in the crow’s nest or, when I was supplanted by a watchman, in the very air itself high, high above the ship. Mr Wicker observed me from time to time and would ask what I had seen.

One day I was able to report on a coastline to the south, far too long and continuous to be an island.

‘It can only be the coast of New Granada,’ he said. ‘Cartagena must be nigh.’

He discussed the forthcoming arrival with Don Scapino, and once again they conferred at length, and again, in Spanish.

Finally, after a couple of days at sea, Mr Wicker was prepared to take me into his confidence and reveal some of his plans. It was well after sunset and he was standing at the rail on the quarterdeck. It was a calm still night and the great bowl of the sky above us was peppered with stars.

‘Do you know your stars, little Loblolly Boy?’

I told him that I could name some of them. My Uncle Jack had pointed out to me many of the stars familiar to
sailors: Sirius, the Dog Star and the brightest; the North Star almost as bright and ever fixed; and a few others which were part of constellations such as the Big Dipper.

To prove my ability, I pointed to these and named them.

Mr Wicker seemed very pleased, especially that I could locate Sirius.

‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘I have something to show you.’

He led me into the captain’s cabin, which he had appropriated. He opened a locker and took out a large flat wooden box. It was obviously heavy, and he placed it on his table before unclipping the lid and opening it.

Inside the box sat a flat brass instrument rather like a tiny cart-wheel. It was about the size of the dishes the women at the Cove sold their fruit from. It was really a heavy ring quartered with spokes, and the circumference of the ring was graduated in degrees. Its centrepiece was a slender brass wand, which looked as if it would rotate around the centre.

Even though I had never seen such a device before, I guessed exactly what it was.

‘It is an astrolabe?’

Mr Wicker nodded. ‘A mariner’s astrolabe.’

‘How does it work?’

‘I will show you.’

He lifted the astrolabe out of the box and then led me outside to the quarterdeck.

He held it up by the ring built into the outer circle.

‘Now little Loblolly Boy, find me Sirius once more.’

I obliged him by pointing at Sirius.

Mr Wicker steadied himself and the astrolabe and then
aligned the brass wand, which I now saw was really a pointer, with the Dog Star.

‘Now,’ he explained, ‘in days long gone, seafarers could calculate the angle of the star and hence its height and thence work out their latitude at sea.’

I thought I understood.

‘Now you try.’

He handed me the astrolabe, which was surprisingly heavy, and showed me how to hold it up by the ring so that it hung down correctly. A little awkwardly I managed to do this. Mr Wicker had shifted the pointer in order for me to use it for myself. I lined up Sirius and tried to shift the pointer without moving the astrolabe from the vertical. It was difficult.

‘The pointer’s stiff,’ I muttered.

‘It’s called an alidade.’

‘What?’

‘The pointer’s called an alidade.’

I exerted a little more pressure and the alidade lined up neatly with Sirius. Mr Wicker expressed satisfaction.

‘I still can’t read it, though,’ I said.

‘That does not matter,’ said Mr Wicker easily. ‘It is only important that you can locate Sirius and line it up.’

I frowned in the darkness. Mr Wicker’s scheme was still equally dark.

‘I will explain,’ he said, sensing my confusion.

‘The astrolabe my dear friend Daniel has constructed was not designed to determine the altitude of stars nor locate latitude.’

This I knew from Captain Bass, but it was interesting to have Mr Wicker confirm it.

‘His astrolabe,’ continued Mr Wicker, ‘was designed to seek Sirius in sunlight.’

‘But you can’t see Sirius in sunlight,’ I said.

‘Precisely,’ said Mr Wicker. ‘But we do know where Sirius is even in the sunlight.’

‘How can we know that?’

‘Because,’ said Mr Wicker, ‘at this time of the year Sirius is directly behind the sun.’

‘Behind the sun?’

‘When we visit the castle, I will ask to examine the astrolabe in the possession of the
commandante
. I will offer him a demonstration of how it works and this will mean taking it into the sunlight. In the old days these devices would usually use the sun not Sirius or another star.’

I began to understand how Mr Wicker hoped to steal the astrolabe.

‘In order to find Sirius, which is behind the sun remember, this astrolabe will bring about the darkness which will blot out the sun, daylight, and reveal Sirius winking in the sudden darkness.’

‘I see …’

‘Good. Then see this, this sudden darkness like a total eclipse will of course create all manner of confusion and dismay.’

I could see this as well.

‘In that confusion I will pass you, little Loblolly Boy, the astrolabe and you will fly it to some safe place. I suggest a nearby
roof accessible only to gulls or creatures such as yourself.’

‘And then?’

‘And then you will locate Sirius once more, line up the astrolabe, and if it performs as I have been informed, daylight will all at once reappear!’

Mr Wicker clapped his hands in anticipation.

‘But …’

‘But, what?’

‘You will be left there without the astrolabe. You will be suspected.’

‘Suspected of what? Nobody could suspect me of suddenly bringing about total darkness. It must be some strange celestial phenomenon like falling fish or a great comet. And even so, one astrolabe will have gone, but don’t forget here is another.’

He reached for the astrolabe, smiling.

I looked at him in the darkness as I handed the astrolabe back. The plan was so bizarre it might even work.

My only problem, if it did work, would be finding the courage to steal the astrolabe myself.

By now most of the crew had learned that the ship was bound for Cartagena and many of them were becoming anxious, apprehensive. Mindful that this was no navy crew who would obey orders, but a crew of independent freebooters who sailed not for the king’s shilling but for a share of whatever loot and spoil could be obtained, Mr
Wicker and Don Scapino had concocted a tale they hoped would appease them.

They told the men that Don Scapino and Mr Wicker both had business to conduct in Cartagena, business the Spanish authorities in the town were also anxious to conclude. They further told them that while the
Firefly
had been an English warship, since it had been captured by privateers the barque was now an independent vessel crewed by independent seamen and that the Spanish authorities would respect this and that they should not fear arrest.

This did seem to comfort the men somewhat, although I could feel that not all the tension on board had eased. The actual captain was a reckless Irishman, one O’Keefe, who had brought the
Firefly
safely to the Cove with the aid of some of Jenny Blade’s men and a number of mutineers. Of all the men he seemed least worried by fears of arrest by the Spaniards, although I was not sure whether this was because he had been persuaded by the silver tongue of Mr Wicker, or whether he was naturally fearless. Something of both, I thought.

Before too long, the watchman aloft had spotted land and the course was re-set for Cartagena. This time, Mr Wicker sent me aloft with instructions to seek the port.

‘You’re more reliable than a sextant and a compass,’ he said. ‘It will be amusing to second guess O’Keefe.’ He pointed starboard and said, ‘O’Keefe tells me Cartagena lies in that direction. See what you will see.’

I took to the air and flew high over the sea. The coastline was now much clearer and I could make out its bays and
indentations and the fans of muddy water where rivers disgorged themselves in the blue of the Spanish Main. Nearer the coast there were many more islands dotted as well, green blotches on the blue and ringed with gold.

Before too long I discovered Mr Wicker’s goal. Cartagena was much bigger than I had expected after my experience of the Cove. Like the Cove, a harbour was obtained only by passing through a narrow channel guarded by two headlands. Unlike the Cove, these headlands were surmounted by stone forts, or at least by one stone fort. Clearly Admiral Vernon’s expedition had put paid to the fort nearest the town, for it was broken, pocked with cannon-fire and crumbling.

The harbour was huge and could have sheltered several battle fleets. On points jutting into its expanse the Spanish had constructed yet more forts. Crowning all was a castle built on an eminence adjacent to the town. It was built of the same characteristic golden-white stone as the walls of the town. As I flew towards Cartagena I could see at once how thick these walls were and how they sloped upwards gently to deflect any cannon.

The forts, the castle and the walls gleamed in the sun as if they were made of the gold that had built the town, the gold that the Spaniards had plundered and stolen from this el dorado of a continent and shipped back to Old Granada and other places in Spain. The continent itself stretched behind the town to be lost beyond in mountains and jungle all the way to the Argentine, the land of silver Sophie had spoken of.

Towards the walled town of Cartagena there was an inner harbour with an anchorage and this too was guarded by two
more forts and ultimately by the castle Don Scapino had told Mr Wicker of: the Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas, the military stronghold of the town.

He had told Mr Wicker that the
commandante
would have almost certainly housed the astrolabe in this impregnable place of safekeeping.

From on high, I could see at once how this solidly walled town and its vast harbour could have withstood Admiral Vernon and his fleet. It was studded with forts and batteries and bristling with cannon. It could have kept twenty fleets at bay.

Mr Wicker’s attempt to subdue the town with one small barque, one duplicitous Spaniard and one invisible flying boy seemed suddenly laughable.

I flew back to the
Firefly
somewhat pessimistically and reported to Wicker what I had seen. Far from being dejected, he rubbed his hands together in pleasurable anticipation.

‘It cannot be long now,’ he said.

‘We are quite close,’ I said.

We were, too. The coastline of New Granada was just visible from the deck now and the
Firefly
was following the shore in a westerly direction and would very shortly reach the narrow entrance to the great harbour. In the distance the castle on the mount was clearly visible. Already Captain O’Keefe had ordered the flag messages to be hoisted aloft, telling the guardians in the forts that we were coming in peace and neutrality.

Having seen the cannon-power surrounding the harbour I hoped that we would be believed. There was a good sea
with a following wind and some hours later, late in the afternoon, the
Firefly
cleared the heads and sailed into the great harbour.

Captain O’Keefe brought the
Firefly
into the inner anchorage. I could see that the arrival of the vessel had aroused a lot of attention on shore, particularly in the forts and watch-towers, but it had not provoked any cannon-fire of either a warning or deadly nature.

The ship was anchored and the jolly-boat prepared to take Mr Wicker, in his guise as Captain Lightower, ashore. He would be accompanied only by Don Scapino, the four sailors who were to row the boat and, of course, me. It was strange to be once more in the jolly-boat. This time, the two passengers lolled in the stern seat, much as the doctor and Captain Lightower had after we had been first let loose upon the sea. I wondered whether Mr Wicker had thought it amusing to sit exactly where Captain Lightower, the man he was now impersonating, had sat.

The anchorage was surrounded by a sea wall and I could see that we were headed for a flight of stone steps that led from the water to the top of the wall. Long before we reached these steps, we saw that a small contingent of soldiers had gathered on the quay to await our arrival.