The Noble Pirates (33 page)

I leaned over him, trying – but failing – to hide the concern from my face. “I’m through talking about Roberts. I want to know what you plan on doing about the fact that it is now June, and that we are a stone’s throw away from Prince Island.”

Howel shrugged, as though it were a small matter that could be easily dealt with. “I plan on living me life as I have before, placing me faith in the luck that brought me here.”

I could barely contain my frustration. “How can you be so cavalier about this? How can you do nothing to try and prevent it?”

Howel sat up. “Such things are out of our hands, Sabrina. I have thought on it long and hard. We do not know what will happen, regardless of what your book revealed. So many things we do not know, we cannot know… Perhaps the book is wrong. Perhaps your existence here and now have so changed events that it simply has no relevance anymore.” He reached for me, gently caressing my hot, moist skin with his fingertips. “You are sending yourself into a frenzy over nothing, me love. We must live our lives and hope for the best.”

I shook my head frantically, pulling away from his touch. “No. It’s not enough. I need more reassurance. I need… I need you to do more.”

He sighed. “What would you have me do? Me path is set. There’s no leaving this life of piracy for me. I’ve no choice.”

“No. You
always
have a choice. I want you to have your crew vote on going elsewhere,” I replied. “Going back west. Surely there are places that are ripe for plundering that aren’t near Prince Island.”

“You are placing too much importance on Prince Island,” Howel said softly.

“Howel, please,” I begged, grabbing his face between my hands. “Please. For me.”

His cheeks were prickly with hair against my fingers, and he exhaled. “You are determined to keep me from death, are you, lass?”

I ran my thumbs along his cheekbones, his eyebrows. “Yes. If it kills me.”

“Hmph.” He curled his hands around my wrists and brought my fingers to his lips, kissing them. “I don’t like that at all.” After a pause, he added, “Very well, then. I will speak to the crew. But you must promise that you will calm yourself on me account.” He poked me in the ribs, making me squeal. “You’ve gotten overly thin, lass. You haven’t been eating. Promise me-”

“I promise,” I replied. “I’ll chill out.”

Howel frowned at me. “I will hold you to it. You will…
chill out
.”

The words sounded so foreign coming from him that I giggled, finally feeling a bit of the tension leave my body.

The pirates gathered the following night to decide on their course of action. Sitting cross-legged on a beach lit by bonfires, Howel’s men were in high spirits, drinking and eating and laughing. I should make a comment about male behavior at this point: pirates of the eighteenth century or frat boys of the twenty-first, men are all the same. I watched as they whaled on each other playfully, full of bonhomie and boyish cockiness, like an undefeated high school football team. They knew they were a powerful lot, and as such displayed a ridiculous amount of arrogance together. I found myself rolling my eyes on a number of occasions, wishing they would get over themselves already.

Only John Roberts sat to the side, alone, drinking something from a pewter mug and watching his comrades with an expression that teetered between scorn and amusement.

“We must decide where we will go from here,” Howel said, addressing his crew after calling them to attention.

“The coast of Africa is ours,” Walter Kennedy said, rubbing his hands together, a greedy smile on his face. “The Royal Navy cannot afford to send their warships here. We can take what we want and expect little, if any, resistance.”

Howel looked down, his hands on his hips. “That may be so,” he replied, “but the Company’s forts will be on the watch for pirates, expecting us. Moreover, our competition – Cocklyn and La Buse, among others – have already helped in causing such mischief on the Guinea Coast that fewer ships will be putting out to sea. I ain’t sure the plunder be worth the risk.”

“What do you propose, then?” Walter asked, looking expectantly at Howel.

“Brazil,” Howel replied. “It is said that twenty-seven tons of gold are dispatched to Lisbon each year. That is a lot of gold, me friends.”

They discussed the issue for a while longer, then voted. The crew was sold on Brazil. As I sat there, relief washing over me, Walter said, “We can load up on provisions for the long trip abroad at São Tomé or Príncipe.”

I jumped, gasping audibly. Príncipe –
Prince Island
. Howel glanced quickly in my direction and said, “Perhaps São Tomé is the better choice, since it is the larger of the two.”

Walter shrugged. “Very well, then.”

When I was once again alone with Howel, I asked, “Is São Tomé close to Príncipe?”

He didn’t look at me, busying himself with cleaning his pistols. “About half a day’s cruise,” he replied. I stood before him, silent. He looked up at me then, a crease of annoyance between his eyebrows. “It’s the best I can do, Sabrina. Suggesting we go elsewhere for provisions would not be practicable, as São Tomé and Príncipe are thriving Portuguese colonies and often used as final ports o’ call for ships preparing to sail abroad. If I suggested anywhere else, the men would think me wit was getting dull.”

I put my hands behind my back, bit my lip. “How long will we be there?”

“Just long enough to stock up, lass,” he muttered, turning away from me. “Remember, Sabrina. You promised that if I spoke to the crew and convinced them to leave Africa you would… chill out. I have yet to see evidence of it.”

I sighed, turned and began to walk out of the tent, but suddenly stopped to look back at him. “Howel,” I said, my voice cracking a bit.

He looked at me, wary. “Aye?”

“I love you,” I said softly.

To my dismay, he reacted to my words by scowling. “You do so overmuch,” he said gruffly, tossing a dirty rag to the ground. “I ain’t deserving of it, and nothing good can come of it.”

That was not the reaction I had hoped for. I said, “You don’t mean that.”

He looked me directly in the face, his eyes like blue ice. “Oh, but I do. Watch out for yourself, lass, because I cain’t do it.”

I left then, my heart aching. He didn’t mean it. Did he? He had never told me he loved me. I hadn’t read too much into it, since he clearly cared for me. Besides, maybe the words didn’t carry the same significance back in 1719 as they did in 2011. But Howel had been particularly moody in the last few days, and now I wondered. Even if he did love me, the impact of knowing his supposed death was just around the corner must have had a profound effect on his psyche, regardless of whether he showed it. Maybe distancing himself from me emotionally was the way he was dealing with it.

I rubbed my temples. Shit, I was a regular Sigmund Freud. I flopped down on the beach and watched the pirates as they began loading the cargo back onto the
Royal Rover
, which was now careened and ready to go. I spotted John Roberts in the distance as he lifted a hogshead and carried it several feet to deposit it in a boat. He was shirtless and barefoot, a red kerchief tied about his head, and he barely strained beneath the weight of the large cask, his massive muscles gliding with ease beneath the glistening brown skin. He turned to retrieve another hogshead, the silver dragon flashing on his bare chest. He saw me watching him and his eyes lingered on me for just a second, before moving on.

Although he was too far for me to know for sure, I could have sworn I saw him smile that haughty, mysterious smile of his.

Chapter Thirty-Five

  São Tomé was yet another tropical paradise, with its towering green mountains and pristine jungles that stopped just short of the seafront. They bulged and pulsed with life – even as we sailed into the bay, we could hear the calls of the birds and monkeys emanating from the dense tangle of vines and trees.

  This time, Howel was disguising his ship as an English man-of-war hunting pirates, flying the Royal Navy flags and once again dressed his crew down as common sailors. So long as they were careful, the authorities were unlikely to question them too much, since they were bringing much-needed business. He told me, “São Tomé and Príncipe are islands of disrepute. The Portuguese send their prisoners there to man the garrison, and there isn’t a local who’d hesitate before swiping the hat from your head or the coins from your purse. Only a fool would set foot on these islands without a weapon at the ready.”

Howel hadn’t wanted me to set foot on the island at all, but I was not going to be left behind – not when we were so close to Prince Island and to what
Rovers of the Sea
had revealed as the end of Howel Davis. The Portuguese officials who rowed out to the ship to greet us accepted Howel’s story without question, and after inviting Howel and his officers to the house of the governor, they sent word to the fort, which fired a salute in honor of its Royal Navy guests. Howel had the
Royal Rover
return the salute, and soon we were anchoring in the harbor and coming ashore. As Howel, Walter, and Thomas were escorted to the governor’s residence, the rest of the crew went into the town. I did so as well, with Sam beside me like a shadow. Under Howel’s protection, Sam had abandoned Levasseur’s crew and was now Howel’s boatswain and one of his most trusted men. As such, one of his unspoken duties was to keep an eye on me, which he did all too well, in my opinion. Sneaking after Howel was not an option with Sam around.

Clapboard houses with lattice windows and large balconies neatly lined the main streets of the town. The locals were a colorful lot – African, European, and a large number of Brazilian slaves. They sold their wares in the streets, including brilliantly-colored parrots that cried “Sod off!” at passers-by. That São Tomé was an island of disrepute was clear, as prostitutes brazenly approached the men of the
Royal Rover
and every other man looked suspiciously like a pirate to me. Sam and I followed the rest of the crew into a nameless pub, where we sat and had some rum and a freshly-cooked meal. The men were in high spirits, gambling their stolen coins in games of passage, enjoying the company of the whores, and filling their bellies with good food.

Even though I knew how well Howel played this game, I sat in my chair uneasily, drumming my fingertips on the table, my knee bouncing with nervous tension. I had taken to biting my fingernails again, something I had quit doing after law school. It was an even nastier habit to have now, considering how filthy they got. Sam looked at me from time to time from across the table, chewing his food slowly. At some point he asked, “Do you already know what will happen?”

I was silent for a long time, watching Sam eat, before answering softly, “I am hoping I can change things.”

Sam didn’t look up from his meal. “Nothing good can come of that,
nwanyi
. You cannot control one’s destiny.”

I clenched my jaw. “I have to try, Sam. I have to try.”

We returned to the ship early that evening to find Howel and his officers celebrating their success in deceiving the governor. “I suspect he doesn’t truly want to know what we are, and he is all the more willing to accept what we tell him, so long as it is somewhat acceptable,” Howel said. “That we are in quest of pirates and have received intelligence that there are some upon this coast seemed quite enough for him.”

“Indeed!” Walter said with a laugh. “But Davies, you are far too modest. You played the part of the King’s man so convincingly, ‘twas easy for him to believe it.” Walter had lost the boyishness about him and was now as tough, jaded a pirate as I had ever seen, with a stubble on his sun-scorched face and gold ring in his ear. He beamed at us. “Thanks to Davies’ performance, His Excellency is supplying us with everything we should need on our journey abroad.”

“Gentlemen, we must show the good town of São Tomé how grateful we are by gracing them with our presence,” Howel said to his officers, grinning, his voice loud, his gestures playful. I could tell he was drunk, even though he was a master at hiding it when he wanted to. “Let us go and befriend the locals, shall we?”

Walter and Thomas were talking over each other jovially, patting each other on the back, when Howel turned and spoke to a man sitting alone in the shadows on the deck. “Roberts, would you care to accompany us?”

This was, if not surprising, then certainly noteworthy to the men, as they became quiet and turned to look at the intimidating newcomer. John Roberts lifted his head, his eyes lit in his swarthy face. After a moment of silence, he stood. “Aye.”

I watched in puzzlement as Howel and Walter offered Roberts a fine coat to wear, speaking in low voices to him with subtle smiles on their faces. Was John Roberts being promoted or something?

Before the men left the ship, Howel pulled Sam and me aside. He looked straight at me, seeming entirely sober for a moment. “Sabrina, this is pirate business. I need you to stay aboard the
Royal Rover
this night, am I explicit?”

“What’s going on with John Roberts?” I asked.

Howel smiled. “We fancy him for an officer and are courting him, so to speak.” His smile disappeared. “But you did not answer me question.”