Legends of the Vengeance : The First Adventure (9781310742866) (12 page)

With that, the cold, exhausted family
trudged inland, reaching Calais as the sun rose in the sky.
Home.

Out to Sea

Wind buffeted the ship within hours of
exiting the strait of Gibraltar. The men grew anxious—excited.
Sebastian could feel the sizzle of anticipation in the air. They
loved it; why, he could only wonder.

His father stood on the quarterdeck,
surveying the scene before him. The ship rocked as the waves grew
more powerful, but still they sailed out into the Atlantic. Eduardo
hurried to Nicolo’s side, and what they said, Sebastian couldn’t
hear, but they also looked both excited and anxious.

From his corner of the deck, Sebastian tried
to see all that happened around him. He knew that within hours, he
might be sent to his tiny cabin with orders to shimmy into that
horrible dress. Maybe he should wash his hair and put on perfume
while he waited for the opportunity to “dress up.” His inward
sarcasm made him snicker.

Hector crept along the gangway, doing his
best to stay out of everyone’s path. The men didn’t like him, but
Sebastian didn’t yet quite understand why. There could be many
reasons—usually because the new men rarely knew anything. His
father’s idea of training men for the life of piracy made no sense
to any of them. Why bother when you would then give them a hefty
portion of loot and set them safely aground somewhere for them to
start a new life?

Again, Sebastian noticed Hector as he slunk
down into the hold. Where was he going? Didn’t he have ropes to
hold for the men running the rigging? He couldn’t row— not a flabby
man like Hector. What else could it be? Curious, Sebastian decided
to follow— to see what the man would do.
At least it’ll be more
interesting than watching Papa watch the men,
he reminded
himself. To combat his suspicions that the trek would prove
lackluster at best, Sebastian tried to imagine that Hector was
really a Spanish spy trying to learn how Nicolo Soranzo had become
so successful at capturing the Spanish treasure ships.

The strange Spaniard didn’t seem to know
what he was doing. He tried one place and then another. Sebastian
kept busy jumping out of sight. He knelt behind barrels, flattened
himself against beams, and ducked under tarps. At last, the man
found the one place Sebastian hoped he wouldn’t— the small area
beneath his father’s cabin. He waited, hoping that the men hadn’t
moved inside to discuss anything important. Telling his father
about a spy using his listening area was a great way to get it
boarded up.

Frustrated, Hector scrambled back down and
moved forward, directly under the quarterdeck. Now Sebastian knew
what he wanted. He did want to listen. He just didn’t know how to
find his way around the ship. It shouldn’t have been difficult.
After all, the lower decks weren’t flipped in any odd direction
from the upper. Right then, Sebastian concluded that the Spaniard
had not been abundantly blessed with intelligence. If he were a
spy, and it seemed as if he was, Hector might need to find a new
profession because he wasn’t a very good one.

Could it be though? Could the man his father
had promised to help be there to sabotage the ship in some way?
Hector was the man his father had to meet in Siracusa— the reason
they chose that port. What if it had all been some kind of set up?
His father had been recognized—was that before or after he’d met
with Hector?

Overwhelmed with the possibilities,
Sebastian scuttled up top and ran to find his father. “Papa!” Just
as he shouted, the boy remembered that Hector could be listening.
“Um, can you come see what I’m drawing?”

It sounded pathetic even to his ears, but
growing desperate, Sebastian had to try. He nearly dragged his
father to his cabin and shut the door. Nicolo glanced about the
floor and started to ask about the lack of picture there, but
Sebastian put a finger over his lips. “I saw something,” he hissed.
“Hector below decks.”

“The man is lazy, but I don’t see how that
requires so much secrecy.”

“He kept going from place to place, trying
to listen. I think he was hoping to find something— hear
something.” He hesitated. What if his father thought he was crazy?
What if it were too much? If he continued to do foolish things, his
father would continue to see him as a pesky child. He blinked. “In
Siracusa, did you see Hector before you were recognized or
afterward?”

“Before...” Nicolo appeared to be thinking
as well.

“Could he— do you think it is possible?”

His father hugged him and slipped out the
door without a word. Sebastian stared at the wooden planks that
shut him out from the rest of the ship, wondering what it all
meant. If he stopped a spy from learning whatever that spy thought
he’d learn on deck, his days of wearing dresses might be over. He
grinned.
Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Staring at the door had an added effect. The
latch caught his interest. Without taking his eye off the latch and
the wood, he reached for the stick, his hand floundering around
until he found it. Line by line, he tried to draw it. His eyes
flitted back and forth from drawing to object until he almost
didn’t look down again. The sketch was the best he’d ever done.
Lines. Straight lines, simple circles. They seemed to be his
strength. It was so easy. He raced out the door and found a bucket
of sea water, dipped in the rag from his back pocket and ran back.
Again he drew, the beams of the boat overhead appearing on the
floor as if by magic. Perfect— simple. Again he erased, and again
he thought. The porthole. He drew it as if effortlessly. Though not
as well done, he still recognized it easily. Pride flooded his
heart.

One last idea came to mind. He scrubbed
until no traces of the charred drawings remained and then drew his
first line— straight but with slight curves at the ends. He closed
in the line with a half ellipse. It looked exactly like he wanted
it to— the hull of a ship. Sebastian struggled with the attempt to
draw his cabin, his father’s cabin, and the quarterdeck, but the
sails and masts appeared before him quickly and realistically.

Sebastian stood back to survey his work. It
was the first thing he’d ever drawn that he wanted to show someone.
Jaime. He had to find Jaime.

~~~~~~~~~~

Men worked, preparing to get the ship into
position to capture the first thing coming out of Spain.
Sebastian’s theory had driven a cold dagger of fear into Nicolo’s
heart. If Hector was not who he was supposed to be, he had placed
the entire ship in danger, but particularly his son. What to do
about it proved more difficult to decide as he’d hoped. At last, he
sent Giorgio to look for the man. If they kept Hector within sight,
he could get into little trouble. Sabotage wasn’t likely, but if he
were willing to kill to get to the boy... The idea nearly made him
sick to think of it. He hadn’t protected Sebastian from danger all
these years to have him killed by a scurvy weasel like Hector.

Nicolo found the man in the galley, begging
for more fruit or meat. New recruits often found the rations on
board ship to be insufficient to their hunger— particularly weak
men like Hector. He had begun his life as a pirate with one simple
goal—to help every man, woman, or child who felt the hand of
injustice rip apart their life. He wanted the success of one more
blow to the pride of Spain, but if the man was a liar, that would
be another story.

The memory of the fear, the cowering of
Hector in that dark, filthy hovel he’d found the man in—they seemed
to indicate truth. Then again, why had he been skulking about the
ship, listening for things that he shouldn’t? Nicolo didn’t know,
but he would find out. If the man was a traitor, he would regret
his actions, and the captain of
The Vengeance
would enjoy
ensuring that he did.

Eduardo— the man should know. Nicolo trusted
few people without question but Eduardo, Jaime, and Mac were
certainly among them. He fought with the men, argued with them, but
he trusted them. Jaime, too. Jaime should know. He saw the younger
man striding toward him, a grin on his face.

“What brightens your countenance this fine
afternoon?”

“Did Sebastian show you his ship? It is
magnificent! An amateur’s work, yes, but he has promise. I just
know he has promise.”

“What ship? What are you talking about?”

“I just came from his cabin. Didn’t he show
you the ship when you went? I thought sure...”

Nicolo shook his head. “Come here.” He led
the younger man to the very tip of the bow and murmured, “He
brought me there to tell me about Hector.”

“Hector? What are you talking about?”

“He followed our Spaniard and found him
hiding in the hull, trying to listen in on Eduardo’s and my
conversation. He took me to his cabin to tell me about it, but
there was no ship on the floor.”

“He must have drawn it after you left. You
should go see it, Nicolo. It is good. I will keep my eye on Hector.
The man considers me sympathetic.”

The captain hesitated. It took several
seconds to decide, but at last, he pushed away from the bow and
strode to Sebastian’s cabin. If the boy did draw something well, he
should see it. As the boy’s father, he should know these things.
Shouldn’t he?

It took several seconds for the boy to
answer the door, but this time Nicolo did not hear the scrape of
the bar that locked the door from the inside. This time, he hadn’t
hid his work. That was good— a definite relief.

“Papa?”

Nicolo nodded and gestured to the floor.
“Jaime says you have drawn a very good ship. May I see it?” Asking
nearly killed him. He was a captain— a father. He gave orders, not
requests. However, Jaime’s words still haunted him.

“Yes, but it is not that good. It is just
better than I have done. Look.”

Jaime and the boy were right. It was good—
better than Nicolo could have done, that was for certain. “I can
see the masts, they look like they are where they belong. The shape
is correct, but you did have trouble with the cabins. I like it.
Very well done, son.”

Sebastian beamed. Just a few words of praise
opened the lad’s heart to him. Perhaps this new obsession of the
boy’s would prove to be a way to reach his son— make him understand
that their life was necessary to their survival. Survival might not
be much of a life, but it was just for another decade at most. It
would work. It
had
to work.

“Did you see about Hector?”

The concern amused him. Sebastian was like
most boys—like Nicolo had been as a young lad—trying to grow up
with dignity that he didn’t yet possess. He wanted to sound wise
and important. Somehow the boy would have to temper the arrogance
that often came with it—the arrogance that Nicolo himself had never
overcome.

“Jaime is looking into it. I have a hard
time imagining that the coward I saw in Siracusa would risk his
life to be a spy, but perhaps he is an excellent actor. If he is,
he will be a martyr too. I hope his cause is worth it.”

“Must he die, Papa? Why not set him adrift
somewhere with just enough to make it to shore if he is wise?
Wouldn’t that be more terrifying? Wouldn’t that require more from
him?”

Nicolo shrugged and pointed to where
Sebastian had drawn the little cabin where his son slept. “I think
you are trying to make that section too linear. Go look at it. I
think it looks like it angles when you look at it. It doesn’t, but
I think looking at it has that impression because of where you
stand. Try it.”

“Did anyone ever teach you how to draw?”

Nicolo shook his head. “No, but I used to
know someone who was a very good artist. She used to talk about how
we picture things as they are rather than as we see them.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Nicolo shrugged. “Try it anyway. It can’t
hurt.”

Waiting

After three days in the Atlantic, the crew
grew antsy—anxious for a ship. Nicolo scanned the waters
repeatedly, watching. Nothing appeared. Hector spent every moment
of those days growing more and more dissatisfied, complaining about
everything from the rock of the small ship to the lack of decent
rum on board.

Arguments broke out on a semi-regular basis.
Tension became so thick on board it felt like a noose around
Nicolo’s neck. Already the men suggested that they return to
Gibraltar and raid somewhere along the Barbary Coast. He had to
find something and soon. How, would be another problem
altogether.

He turned at a roar of rage and saw one of
the oarsmen rushing Filipe and pinning him against the deck. “Hey
there! Stop!” Nicolo rushed to Filipe’s aid. “What is the
problem?”

“He left that rope just lying there. I
nearly broke my neck. It is irresponsible and—”

“Enough. He’s working on the rope. If you
don’t like where it is, help him fix it.”

“What do I know about rope? I know how to
row, and I am good at it. Put us to work rowing back to the coast,
and I’ll show you my skills.”

Nicolo shook his head. “We’re not going
back. We’re going to wait, capture a ship from Cadiz, and then be
on our way. That is what we will do.”

“We’ve been out here for three days. We’re
doing all right for now, but if a storm comes up, we’re in
trouble!”

Before Nicolo could order the man down
below, Eduardo strolled past, “Sailor, you are out of order. Get
out of here or get to work.”

The furious man stalked down the gangway,
presumably to join the other oarsmen. Eduardo beckoned Nicolo to
follow him to the cabin. Two more arguments broke out on the way,
but Jaime seemed in control of them. Once inside, Eduardo slammed
the door shut. “I know why you want to do this, but what if nothing
comes for a week or two or more? We can’t stay out here forever.
The men are getting frustrated already.”