Legends of the Vengeance : The First Adventure (9781310742866) (6 page)

Unable to stand the suspense, he finally
peeked out the porthole and saw the ship approaching. It sailed
swiftly for such a large ship, but it would not turn in time to
load and fire. He could see the wisdom of their plan. If it were
El Cazador,
they would be out of reach long before the ship
could sail again, provided his father did not try to sink it
completely.

At that thought, he knew his father’s plan
was not to disable but to destroy. His father feared little, but
Nicolo Soranzo most definitely feared
El Cazador.
Men would
die today. The thought sickened him.

The call to attack came seconds before the
dreaded confirmation of Sebastian’s worst fears. “Give no quarter!”
Show no mercy. The next cry of “fire in the hole” gave him a
moment’s warning before the ship shook with the force of cannon
fire. One after another, the fourteen guns fired, causing the ship
to rock as if on stormy seas.

The other ship took direct hits at the
helm—twice. The calm, quiet wait would prove deceptive. Both ships
maneuvered into the best position for what Sebastian assumed would
be the next wave of gunfire—either that or the other ship would
run.
Please, God let it run,
Sebastian prayed
unconsciously.

To his shock and dismay, the other ship
chose to come about to return fire. It wouldn’t have a chance. The
calls to fire came instantly. Instinctively, he knew that the
middle four cannons would have chain shot to rip apart the masts.
One hit the main mast while another tore up the deck near the
foremast. Wood flew into the air like chips for kindling.

The other ten guns ripped apart the hull and
it seemed as if the quarterdeck had caught fire. They’d run now. He
waited for the call, but it didn’t come. A cannon ball whizzed by
and hit the bow of
The Vengeance
. Sebastian waited
impatiently for the call of all clear. The ship did not list to one
side or end. Why did Mola take so long? The carpenter must not like
something—there it was. All clear.

The ship turned, the oarsmen doing their job
two days in a row.
They’ll be happy to let the sails do the work
alone in the days ahead,
he thought.

The fire spread on the other ship, making
Sebastian wonder if they’d used a hot shot. Usually his father
refused the added risk to his ship and his men, but for
El
Cazador,
he might deem it worth it. The men had probably
volunteered. Yes, that must be it.

Another cannon ball flew over the ship,
landing larboard by a good twenty yards. Several more followed. One
seemed headed straight for his cabin, making Sebastian flatten
himself on the floor, covering his head, but all for nothing.

By the time he allowed himself to peek out
the window, the other ship had begun to sink, men spilled out of it
into the water, grasping planks and scrambling into rowboats. The
distance spread between them until he felt confident that there
would be no more cannon fire.

Now came the endless wait. His father would
inspect the damage, speak to the men, send the injured to the cook
for patching, and then after everyone else was settled, send for
him. It could be hours, depending on the damage. Then again, as
swiftly as the ship cut through the water already, it might not be
too bad.

To his surprise, his door flung open minutes
later and Jaime hurried in to help him out of the dress. “Your
father wants to see you now. He told me to bring you as you are,
but even I can’t do that to you.”

Sebastian snatched the combs from his hair
and jerked his arms from the offending dress. He threw a shirt over
his head and stepped out of the skirts and into his breeches. Not
bothering to wait for boots, he tore from the confining room and
raced down the gangway and up to his father’s quarters. This had to
be big—very big.

Hidden

Nicolo watched with pride and a pang to his
heart as Sebastian burst through the door. So like his mother.
People often commented on how there was little resemblance between
them—mostly facial expressions and mannerisms. The older the lad
grew, the more dissimilar they became in looks, personality, and
temperament.

“We did it, Papa! Is everyone all right? No
serious injuries?”

“Just that fool Hector. He dove for the bow
just as that cannon ball ripped a hole in it. He is covered in
splinters—a bad one in his cheek—barely missed his eye.”

“Who—”

“I figured Mac could handle it.”

“Papa! How could you?”

“Filipe won’t let him do too much damage,”
Nicolo teased. Changing the subject, he pulled some papers from
beneath a log book and rolled them carefully. “You need to listen
to me, son. This is very important. The papers I am putting in this
jar are vital to your future. Do you understand?”

“What are they?”

“It is best if you do not know.” Nicolo saw
the frustration in his son’s eyes and shook his head. “Son, I am
not trying to hide things from you because I think you are too
young or too immature. I would tell you if I should. It is just
best that I don’t. I wouldn’t show them to Jaime, Eduardo—even your
mother.”

“I see.”

It was evident from his son’s expression
that he did not truly understand but that he believed his father’s
words. “Jaime is wise for someone so young. He said you were
becoming a man.” Nudging Sebastian’s shoulder playfully he added,
“He also says you make a lovely
signorina
.”

“Oh, Papa it is so degrading. Can’t I just
be chained to the rowing crew like a slave boy?”

“You’ll have a better chance at survival if
they think you are a wealthy man’s daughter. They’ll try to ransom
you—perhaps. Otherwise you’ll be killed with the rest.”

“I suppose…”

“Take heart. In a few years you’ll grow a
beard, and then our feeble attempts at deception won’t work
anymore.”

Sebastian grinned. “Perhaps if I trim my
hair and find some wax…”

As they spoke, Nicolo put the papers in a
jar and then fingered a small packet. “This is very important for
you and your future. Precious. It was your mother’s and she
cherished it. I remember when she first shared it with me—” He
choked at the memory of that day. “She did me honor to share it.
You must never betray that trust, Sebastian. Promise me.”

“I promise. What is it?”

“I cannot tell you. You wouldn’t understand
the value or the importance. It would only confuse you—now.
Someday, though. Someday you will understand. I didn’t understand
back then, but I do now.”

“Why are you telling me all of this if I
cannot know what it is you are telling me. It makes no sense.”

“Because I have to hide these. They are
vital to your future and maybe your life. You must pay attention
and remember all I say to you.”

He dropped the packet into the jar and
sealed the cork. Sticking his head out the door, he called for
Giorgio to bring hot tar. Carefully, he coated the entire jar with
the tar and then rolled it in oilcloth. “Help me tie it,
Sebastian.”

“Are we going to throw it overboard?”

Nicolo’s laughter rang out in the cabin.
“No. We will bury it. This is why I sent for you. You cannot forget
it. You cannot ever forget.”

“A tar-wrapped jar. Not very forgettable but
very confusing.”

His father wrapped several lengths of string
around the jar and tied the ends, weaving them in and out of the
maze of string. Once again, Nicolo brushed the hot tar over the
canvas until he coated it completely. “It should be safe now—even
if crushed, the jar may break but it will still protect it.”

“So if we aren’t going to throw it
overboard, what are we doing with it?”

“I am sorry. I keep getting lost in the
past. We’re going to raid Formentera. Jaime and I are going ashore
and will bury this—hide it so that no one will ever find it unless
they know it is there.”

“Am I going with you?”

“I don’t know,” Nicolo hedged. He’d
considered it, but the idea seemed even more dangerous than being
in on the raid.

“If I am not there, how will I ever find it
if you need me to?”

“I don’t know.” He ignored the confusion and
uncertainty in his son’s eyes and pulled out the map. “Look at
this. See, we’re going to go here to Formentera. Eduardo will let
Jaime and me off in the dory, and we’ll row to this islet. When we
get back, I’ll show you exactly where I buried it. We’ll draw it
out until you never forget it.”

“I think that means I should come with you.
If it is so secret, drawing it doesn’t seem like a very safe
idea…”

Again, Nicolo laughed. “We’ll be sure to
burn them once you have it memorized.” He stowed the map away again
and sat on his bunk. “Sebastian it is very important that you find
this jar as soon as you are of age. Read the contents very
carefully. Things will make sense then that couldn’t possibly make
sense now. Protect them. They are very important documents. Take
them to Italy—to Parma and show them to my family. They will find
you a lawyer. They will help you.”

“Help me with what?”

“They will keep you alive. It would be your
mother’s wish.”

Sebastian knelt in front of Nicolo and gazed
into his eyes. “Why does someone want to kill me? I have never
understood this. Why not you? You are the pirate! I have no
choice.”

“Do not be mistaken. They want me dead too.
If I am alive at that time, I will help you myself, but if not, you
must do as I say.”

“When I come of age and have been paddling
about the ocean waiting for that day to come, I am to go to the
islet off Formentera, dig up this,” Sebastian stood and grabbed the
jar, nearly dropping it from the unexpected weight. “What is in
this? This is not a small packet and some paper!”

“I added gold, too. Enough to get you home
and keep you for some time.”

His son eyed him oddly. “So I find it, dig
it up, sail to Italy and inform family I have never met that I am
come with this information and require their help as to what to do
with it?”

“Yes.”

“Papa, isn’t that a little… a little
crazy?”

Nicolo looked up at his son, ignoring the
incredulity in the boy’s eyes. “I suppose it is. Do it anyway.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Sebastian left his father’s cabin more
confused than he’d ever been about their life, although with new
purpose. He also felt a little closer to the man he called father
but who felt more like a “captain” rather than a “papa” much of the
time. Jaime waved from where he examined a torn sail and beckoned
Sebastian to come to him.

“Are you coming with us?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. He still
wants me in skirts.” Despite his added affection for his father,
Sebastian couldn’t help complaining about the indignities he felt
he endured.

“I’ll try again.”

“Thank you.” Sebastian frowned as the seaman
stitched the sail. “The small lateen is nearly shredded. We have
another full size sail, why not cut this one down for that one, get
out the new mainsail, and then use the current one for this
one—just cut it down a bit. It’d be work, but we could do them one
at a time. We’d just replace the big one, use this as it is, and so
forth.”

“They’ll need replacin’ before we head west
anyway, Jaime. The lad makes sense.”

“It’ll only be a few days before we get
there,” Sebastian argued. “Even with bad wind and leaving off the
oars, it would be less than a week, wouldn’t it?”

“To Formentera? That sounds right. You have
a good sense of time and direction.” Jaime kicked behind his knees,
making them buckle, and pushed him toward the gangway. “Go down to
the galley and see if Filipe needs help with our Spaniard. The man
is touchier than a girl.”

Dismissed, Sebastian hurried down to the
galley, curious about the man’s injuries but uncertain if he really
wanted to see them. He wasn’t fond of gory sights. He’d seen too
many men lose an eye, an arm or leg—one even sliced in half by
rigging. He shuddered at the memory.
Life is gruesome on a
ship,
Sebastian mused.

Moans grew louder as he neared where Mac and
Filipe took turns ripping large and small splinters from the man,
the largest still lodged in the right cheek. After each one, he
took a swig of rum. Mac grinned at the look of disgust on
Sebastian’s face.

“Our new man is not keen on pain. The rum is
makin’ it a bit more bearable.”

“Does Papa know he’s drunk?”

“Aye, I think yer papa is more understandin’
of a man’s pain at a time like this.”

He turned to leave, but Filipe called him
back. “We will need you in a minute. You’ll sit on his legs so he
can’t move while we take out the big one.”

“Nooooooooooo!” Hector cried, sobbing now at
the thought of what pain it would mean.

“It has to come out. Yer ugly enou’ wi’out
it. You wouldn’t want to be frightening the wee ones wi’ it, now
would ye?”

After a few more swigs of rum and another
dozen protests, Sebastian seated himself on Hector’s knees and
leaned his upper body on the man’s feet. “I’m ready.”

Mac tied a rope around Hector’s upper body,
holding down the man’s arms and then went to hold his head. “Ok, I
canna hold ‘im for long. Ye be swift about it, man.”

“On three. Uno, due, tre!”

Hector’s scream filled the galley, rose to
the decks, and sent men scrambling to see what had happened. Mac
stuffed a rum-soaked rag in the cheek and poured a bit more rum
down Hector’s throat. When the room filled with men, all crowding
to see, he shooed them back again.

“Ye be gettin’ outta here. Can’t ye see the
man is half-dead? Give ‘im some peace or I dinna ken that I’ll be
inclined to cook anymore today.”

“That’d almost be a relief,” one man
muttered as he left the room.

“Ye’d think they didn’t appreciate my fine
cookin’,” Mac teased.