Gene Wolfe - Pirate Freedom

Harker reached into his pocket and took out a folded paper. "Can you read English?"

Rombeau shook his head.

"Then I can't prove it to you. Can you, Captain?"

I said I could and took the paper. I cannot remember the exact wording, but this is close: The bearer is Capt. Hal Harker of my sloop Princess. He will tell you where I have gone, and why; it will be the Devil's own chance, that if fortune favors us should leave all of us rich. Join me as speedily as wind and weather permit, bringing none but sound men. Your Comrade and Commander, Abraham Burt, Captain Signed aboard my ship Weald this 12th day of September

I read it aloud in English, then in French, and at last in Spanish as a courtesy to Novia, although I knew she had understood the first two.

Rombeau licked his thin lips. "Do you credit it, Captain?"

I shrugged and asked Harker, "Were you there when he wrote it?"

"I was, Captain, and I watched him write it, sand it, and fold it. After that he passed it to me. He'd already given me my orders."

"He dipped his pen in the inkwell seven times," I said. "I can tell from the writing. You saw him do that, Captain Harker. What did his inkstand look like?"

For a minute Harker looked blank. Novia giggled a little.

"I'll give you time to think about it, but you must have seen it."

"Aye, sir. I did, Captain. It was brass, not one of the big ones. All brass, I believe, and no wood about it. There were shells on it. Not real shells but in the brass, I mean. Scallops, Captain."

I spoke to Rombeau. "I believe him. Do you?"

"It was correct? What he said?"

I nodded.

Novia said, "He has told us he is going to Maracaibo. We are to meet him there. Do you know why he changed his plans, Capitan Harker?"

"I do, madam. Captain Gosling took a Spanish ship, the Nuestra Senora de las Nieves. I would say that means 'Snow Lady,' although you may correct me, and welcome. She was bound for Maracaibo and had letters aboard. Gosling opened them and read them."

"He reads Spanish, Captain Harker?"

Harker nodded. "He was a prisoner of theirs for three years, madam. The governor of the prison liked him, and loaned him his books. He didn't know ten words when he was taken, he says, but by the time he was exchanged, he could read it like 'twere English."

Rombeau frowned, and Harker said, "I mean no offense, gentlemen. I can't read Spanish myself, nor your French neither."

There was some arguing here that I will skip. I cut it off by asking what the letters said.

"That we were planning to attack Maracaibo, as I understand, Captain. Somebody had talked, and it had come to the ears of some Spaniard in Veracruz. Gosling told Captain Burt when they met, and Captain Burt got all of us together-as many as were there, is what I intend. He told us and wanted to know who was game to go through with it. I was." Harker shrugged. "The rest were not. The Spanish have been shipping silver from Portobello now-bar silver, we're told, because the mint in Mexico can't keep up. They wanted to go for that, and Captain Cox has made friends with a tribe on the coast. They'll guide us around behind the town, he says, for there's a fort to guard the harbor."

Novia asked, "And that is what Captain Burt has decided to do?"

Harker looked doubtful. "It was decided for him, if you take my meaning, madam. Dobkin and I stood by him, those that sit with us now weren't there, nor was Captain Lesage. The rest were against him, every man. If he had stood out for Maracaibo, they'd have gone at Portobello on their own, and he wouldn't have had force enough to do it."

Novia nodded. "I see."

"So he sent me here," Harker continued. "I'm to speak with you and Captain Rombeau here, and to Captain Lesage, and send you to Portobello-to the Pearls, really, that being where we are to meet."

I said, "On the other side of the Gulf of Mosquitoes?"

"Exactly, Captain. You are to go there straight away, if that's convenient. I'll have to wait here for Captain Lesage. We'll join you directly when he comes. I don't suppose you have news of him?"

I did not, but I asked about his ship. It was the Bretagne, which was what I had been thinking. The communists have fallen! Or if they have not, they are falling. The reports we get are very confused and none of America's intrepid journalists are sufficiently intrepid to go to Cuba and see for themselves. I have been thinking of going. It might be possible to hire a boat in Miami that would make the run, but I am quite sure it would take a lot more money than I have. It might also be possible to steal one, and to tell the truth I am sorely tempted.

But no. Our Lady of Bethlehem will not have been reopened so quickly. Once in Cuba, I would have to wait. I can wait just as well here, and perhaps do some good.

Until air service is resumed, I will remain. That will be-must be-my yardstick.

A lot of things must have happened while we sailed from Long Bay to the Pearls, but the only one I remember clearly is that Novia and Azuka had a big fight and tried to kill each other. We separated them and told them that when we got to the islands we would set them ashore with whatever weapons they wanted.

I believe I probably said we would do it right away, but Capt. Burt wanted to see me as soon as we got there. So I came, bringing Novia with me. It was something I had never done before.

There were two reasons for that, both good. The first was that she was my real second-in-command, and everyone knew it by then. Taking Portobello meant going ashore and marching through the jungle, and I meant to leave her on the Sabina to look after things for me. She would need to be filled in as well as it could be done.

The second was pretty obvious. I was afraid she and Azuka would go at it again and the crew would take sides. A big fight among ourselves, with four or five dead and fifteen or twenty wounded, was exactly what we did not need.

I explained my first reason (but not my second) to Capt. Burt, who smiled and paid Novia compliments, and poured wine for all three of us. Then, when we were seated in his cabin and comfortable, he snapped, "Can we trust you, Senora?"

For a minute there I was afraid she would fly off the handle, but she was cool as Christmas. "If you are indeed Crisoforo's friend, Capitan Burt, you may trust me to the death and beyond. If you betray him, I will see you hang or kill you myself."

"Captain Burt won't betray me," I told her.

He chuckled, and put down the pistol he had been oiling. "She had a right to say what she did, Chris. I began it, after all."

He went back to Novia, dead serious again. "You're Spanish, Senora? You did not deny it."

"I am. So was my husband, who was a beast. So was the father who sent me to him and turned the blind eye to my bruises and my degradation. If I had been as I am now, Capitan Burt, I should have killed him by my own hand. I was not so hard in that time, only a silly chit who thought herself a woman. It is now otherwise."

"You'll kill him if you see him, Senora?"

"He is no more, Capitan Burt. I did not kill him, nor did Crisoforo, yet we watch him die."

I said, "I suggested to Novia that you might marry us, Captain. We talked it over and decided we'd like a priest and a wedding in a church. I told her you'd understand, as I'm sure you do."

"I do, of course. I understand, too, that a Spanish woman, a beautiful, educated Spanish woman, may be a great help to us. Will you help us, Senora? Should the occasion arise?"

Novia nodded. "If Crisoforo wishes it. No! Even when he does not. He does not wish me to risk myself. Inquire of him who was first of all to board the San Vincente de Zaragozza."

"It was the person we found lying on deck unconscious with a couple of empty pistols," I told him.