Cerulean Isle (18 page)
“Grant, you and Owen load the wagon with as much food and supplies as possible. The sloop’s stores are sure to be low. I will pack clothing, weapons, books, charts, and anything of great value that we might trade later. I want our wagon stocked and ready before the evening.”
“We must traverse about ten miles to the eastern shore,” said Owen. “Christoff ’s sloop will meet us in two days. The plan is to depart at night and sail around the southern coast, then westward, passing our pursuers unseen. The sooner we start, the better.”
Do you think we will ever come back?” Grant asked.
He and I were tending to Teach and Morgan in the stable. It was late in the afternoon when we finished loading the wagon.
“Perhaps once we are rid of L’Ollon’s men. Rosewing is our home, and I’ve come to love this island. But we must consider Martin and Anna. If we stay, we’ll bring danger to them. They are safe here. I must admit, a large part of me wants to stay and fight.”
“We’d lose,” said Grant.
“I know that.”
Anna and Martin came into the stables. Martin put his hand on my shoulder. “You haven’t told us much about what’s going on.”
I could see the worry brewing in Anna’s eyes. She clung tightly to her husband. I said, “We tried to start a new life, we tried to hide, but some things are too big to hide from and we—”
“Listen, boys,” Martin interrupted. “I’ve never asked for an explanation about your gold, your troubles, or your past. Something tells me that it’s better if I don’t know.”
Anna took my hand and one of Grant’s. “Just promise you’ll be coming home.”
Grant kissed the back of her hand. “We’ll be back, Anna. I promise.”
“Very well,” said Martin. “We’ll look after the farm while you’re away.”
We shook hands with Martin, and Anna wiped the small tears from her cheeks. The two left the stables. Grant went back to brushing Teach’s mane. “So it is to the ocean that we return, to uncertainty. We’ve come full circle.”
“Full circle, indeed,” I replied.
~~~~~~
The sky darkened fast as the sun fell behind the clouded horizon. It was time to leave. Grant and I did a final sweep through the farm house. We looked for any last minute necessities but found nothing worth taking. We had both copies of the chart, Owen’s old journal, a bundle of weaponry, and barrels of food for the sloop.
We gathered at the edge of the farm where the road down the hillside began. I went to the front of the wagon where the weapons were wrapped in linen and selected the arms for our party.
“My good man, this is yours.” I handed Owen the cutlass that I wielded against him when we met.
“She’s a fine blade, Master Jacob.” He twirled it around with finesse and slipped it into his belt. “I’ll spill blood in your honor!”
Grant had a bejeweled rapier hanging from his belt and a gold-hilted dagger sheathed in his boot. I handed him a loaded pistol. He took it and secured it on the other side of his belt. “What about you?”
I had one last bundle of linen tucked under my arm. I pulled back the wrapping to reveal a gleaming broadsword. Its mirror-finished blade was flawless with a perfect cutting edge. The handle was tightly wrapped in brown leather and boasted a dark round sapphire. Like all ornate swords, the hilt was the most eye-catching. Forged from solid gold and meticulously crafted, the sword’s guard was a Mermaiden, her fish-like body coiled around the handle in a horizontal figure eight. Her glorious fin fanned out over the blade. It was an intricate, beautiful weapon.
“Where did you get this?” Grant asked.
“At the market last month. The merchant said he found it on the beach, but I think he stole it. I bought it and I’ve kept it secret should it come up as stolen property. I figured I’d wait a few months before wearing it around.”
“Why didn’t you show it to me?”
“As I said, I thought it might be stolen. You would have blurted something about it at the tavern and I’d get in trouble.”
“True. It’s a wondrous weapon.”
“Yes. And it is unusually light for steel and gold. Also, I haven’t had to clean it since I bought it.”
“No oil on the blade?”
“Nothing. The finish remains no matter how often I handle it.”
“Aye,” interrupted Owen. “We’ll see if that holds true when it runs a man through. Enough talk. We must be moving; the day is fading, and with it, our chances of escape.”
Chapter 31
Lights in the Forest
After a few hours of travel, the forest wall on the right side of the road began to fracture. Through the gaps in the knotted vegetation, I could see the brilliant glimmer of the blue ocean.
“Men, we should be arriving at the coast any moment and with time to spare. The beach that Waylin commanded I bring you to is roughly a mile ahead,” said Owen.
Soon our path broke from the forest and a small golden beach opened in front of us. The crystal clear surf swayed over the sand. The sound of the rolling water and rustling breeze eased my tension. We stopped the wagon at the edge of the small cove and stared out to the endless azure sea. The fiery glow of the falling sun cast hues of orange, red, and purple into the darkening blue sky. There were no homes, shacks, or lean-tos on this pristine bend of beach. The white-gold sand was fine and speckled with bits of shells and edgeless stones. The shoreline was smooth with no trace of habitation. It seemed that the settlers of Grenada had forgotten this cove.
“This beach is magnificent. I didn’t know it was here,” Grant said. “How is it that no one lives here?”
Owen replied, “The water is too shallow and hides deadly coral. Large ships can’t get close. Waylin and Christoff were wise in choosing this cove.”
“Did they specify their time of arrival?” Grant asked.
“Nay. The plan was to leave under the cover of night. I can only assume we’ll see the sloop come into view just after the setting of the sun.”
~~~~~~
As night fell over the island we prepared for the sloop’s arrival. Owen said that they would anchor as close as possible and send lifeboats to the shore. We stacked our barrels close to the water’s edge and unloaded our trunks and crates. When the wagon was emptied, we released Teach and Morgan from their harness and let them wander the beach.
The stars were distant torches. The sky had turned to black and the water was ghostly and restless. The moon was full, but wispy gray clouds sailed by it as if intentionally diminishing its light. We sat atop our crates and stared out at the dark horizon, hoping for any sign of the sloop.
“What was that noise?” Grant leapt up and took a few cautious steps toward the forest.
We heard a short series of cracks, followed by what sounded like rolling rocks.
I began to see shapes moving. As I focused, I made out the shapes of men. Friend or foe, I could not tell.
“Ahoy!” Owen pointed to the ocean. “Look yonder, there be a light floating on the water. The sloop, my good men, has arrived.”
I turned my attention from the shadows lurking in the black jungle to the soft orange glow of a lantern rocking on the waves.
“We must signal them so they know we are here,” said Grant. He pulled out his pistol, loaded a shot and held it aloft. A loud explosion and a blinding yellow flash erupted from the pistol. The sound echoed across the ocean and through the dark forest.
The shadowy human shapes scurried about but did not emerge from the tree line. I expected a succession of fire to blast from the woodland in response to Grant’s shot, but none came.
If pirates lurked in the jungle, they would have taken the shot as a call to war. Whoever was in the forest was as cautious as we were. I looked out at the approaching ship, with its starboard bow facing us. It had set three more lanterns alight. Two more lanterns, then four, illuminated the ship. The ten fires burned and reflected in the water. The single mast loomed toward the stars. The bundles of heavy white sail were furled on the crosstrees. The lines and rigging looked like fine spider wire. Faintly, I made out the blue striping along the hull.
After the sloop lit its lanterns, ten ghostly lights appeared from the boundaries of the forest, moving toward us. I heard Owen draw his blade and the metallic chime of Grant’s rapier. I rolled the handle of my broadsword in my palm. The figures from the jungle drew near, large men wearing white tunics and gray pants. The flickering light illuminated their serious faces and shadowy eyes.
“Ten men are a laughable challenge,” boasted Owen. He stood ready, poised with a bare blade and clenched fist.
Grant was silent as he held his jewel-encrusted rapier outward. The fatal tip gleamed in the forthcoming light. I took my position next to him.
“Do me a favor,” he said.
“And that is?”
“Pretend these men are Beelo.”
They had formed a tight circle around us. We stood back to back. They remained motionless, lanterns in one hand, cutlasses in the other. The leader of their group came forward. He was bald, muscular and seemingly unimpressed with what he saw.
“Are you Jacob of Rosewing?” asked the bald man in a deep, flat voice.
“Indeed. My name is Jacob.”
“Are you the same Jacob that escaped the
Obsidian
and Jean L’Ollon ten years ago? Answer me truthfully.” The encircling group remained silent.
I thought about his question, hesitant to admit my past, when Grant stepped in front of me. His blade touched the man’s chest.
“He is the same Jacob, and I am the same Grant. We bested L’Ollon and his vile crew and did so with ease. Be forewarned, a ship waits yonder with cannon readied against you. If you value your life, you will yield and call away your band.”
“Aye!” Owen hollered.
The leader lifted his sword.
The battle for freedom is at hand,
I thought. His long blade sliced the air and, to my complete surprise, jabbed into the sand. He released the handle. The sword wobbled and stood on its own.
“The ship that you say is readied against me,” the leader said with a smirk, “is ours. Turn down your arms, men,” he called to the group, “it seems we’ve found them.” The men sheathed their swords and came away from us. His attention returned to me. “My name is Bartholomew. Call me Bart. I am currently serving as quartermaster under Captain Waylin.” He put out his hand, and I accepted. “It is a pleasure to meet you both.”
“Allow me to introduce Owen. He has been our guide.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Owen. Waylin told me to be careful around you.”
“His judgment is uncanny,” snarled Owen. He brushed away Bart’s hand. “Heed his warning.”
Bart waved his lantern to signal the sloop. On board the distant ship, a light waved in response. “I’ve just indicated that we have met you. They will be sending the rowboats.” He withdrew his sword from the sand and moved toward the shore.
“Just a moment,” I snapped. Grant, Owen, and I still held bare blades. “Why were you skulking about in the forest? Why didn’t you make yourself known?”
“We had to be sure that you were the party we were sent to meet. We heard the shot ring out and we held back.”
“Understood.” I returned my sword to its scabbard. The others did the same.
Bart pointed to our provisions. “I see you’ve come prepared. I was told there was a battle plan of some sort, and that you’d provide the details.”
Owen interrupted. “You’ll know when the time comes.”
“Correction,” piped Bart, “as quartermaster I must be informed of all plans to ensure the welfare of the crew. I will know when I ask to know.”
“Let me correct
you.
I am a seasoned pirate. And if you speak to me again as though I have never hoisted a rigging, I will cut out your cursed tongue and wear it on my belt.”
“Owen,” I said, “calm yourself. These men are not enemies, and I would have it remain that way.”
Owen snarled at Bart and pushed passed him. He stood alone on the shore looking out toward the drifting sloop.
We sat in a wide rowboat. Bart took the oars at the bow, Grant and I sat on the middle bench, and behind us two crewmen worked the oars at the stern. They refused our help. Owen was in the rowboat behind us; he wanted to guard our provisions. Four men managed the craft while he sat and glared at them.
“You knew Christoff?” Grant asked Bart.
“Yes. I met him in his later years. He was ill when I signed his articles. A fair captain. He worked hard with us and did so until the end.”
“Did he die in peace?”
“As peaceful as any man could. After spending a few days on the lawless island of Curacao, Christoff asked the crew to elect a new captain. The consensus was for Waylin. Then Waylin asked the crew to elect a new quartermaster. I was voted in. The crew signed new shipboard articles.
“Come nightfall we gathered to dine, but Christoff ’s chair was empty. Waylin went to check on him and found the old man cold in his bed. The next morning, we set sail and once on calm waters, gave our old captain to the sea.”
After a moment of silence, Grant said, “Christoff, may the warm winds fill your sails and guide you to the seas of heaven.”
“Tell me, Bart,” I said, “what do you know of us and of what is to come?”
“Two days after Christoff ’s passing, Waylin told me of the mission to find you. He said two men on the island of Grenada were in trouble and that he promised these men that should they need him, he would come. When you, Jacob, plunged a sword through the chest of the infamous Jean L’Ollon, you started a war. L’Ollon’s men sailed for years searching for you.”
~~~~~~
The rowboats drifted along the hull of the sloop. Seeing its massive body looming over us made me feel like a child again. This was the second time that the nameless ship would be our savior.
We climbed the rope ladder and stood on the clean deck for the first time in ten years. A man with long blonde hair stepped from the midst of the crowd. As he drew near I saw streaks of white in his gold locks. His lengthy blue coat flapped around his waist.
