Gene Wolfe - Pirate Freedom

We followed it around until we were looking across the clearing from the other side. Hoodahs came as close to smiling as I ever saw-by which I mean that his mouth was set in stone, but his dark and narrow eyes were laughing-raised an imaginary musket, and pulled back the invisible hammer. I nodded to show I got it, and we went on to the fort and had a good look at that.

A couple of days after that, I got all dressed up in the fancy clothes I had been buying in Maracaibo, strapped on my long sword and Novia's dagger, and Hoodahs and I sailed up to that fort and tied up at the wharf, all as open and aboveboard as you please. I told the colonel I was a soldier, a captain, who had come to Maracaibo from Havana hoping to get a promotion from General Sanchez.

And I showed him the letter that Novia and I had cooked up, complete with a pretty scarlet ribbon and the smudged red wax impression left by the "official" seal Long Pierre had carved for us. It talked about the good family in Spain I came from (which really was Novia's) and praised me to the skies. I had held the pen that signed it, but the name on it belonged to the governor of Cuba.

When the colonel had read all that, I told him I had been promised an audience with the deputy governor and General Sanchez in a few days, and I wanted to show them I was already familiar with the military situation here.

He stood me a glass of good wine and showed me all over the fort. Which was, I admit, pretty impressive. Impressive from the seaward side, particularly.

I did various other things in Maracaibo after that, sometimes with Hoodahs and sometimes on my own. None of them were important, although some of them were fun.

Then my fortnight was up, and we sailed out to meet Harker in the Gulf and went aboard, tying our little boat on behind Princess.

Capt. Burt welcomed me with a big smile and a glass of wine. "You're lookin' healthy, Chris. How's everythin' on the Sabina?"

I said thank you and "Fine, sir. Novia had to shoot one guy while I was gone and hang another one, but she says it's done wonders to bring the rest into line. So do Red Jack and Bouton."

"I've known it to help, myself." Capt. Burt grinned. "You'll be short two men, just the same."

I shook my head. "You're right, sir, she was down two men. The man she hanged had killed Compagne, so that was two. But the one she shot-it was one of the Cimaroons-is recovering. I brought us another man when I came back, so we've only lost one, really."

"You're sure he ain't a spy, Chris?"

"He was a Moskito slave, sir. They just about beat him to death. He hates the Spanish worse than I hate… well, anybody."

"You trust him."

"Absolutely. If you knew him like I do, you'd trust him, too."

"Good enough." Captain Burt leaned back, making the steeple with his fingers. "Tell me about the fort."

"Strong on the water sides, not so strong on the others. The walls fronting the strait are granite, about four feet thick. Landward-"

"How many guns?"

"On the water side? Sixteen. There are ten eight-pounders, four twelve-pounders, and two twenty-fours. They have two furnaces for heating hot shot."

He rubbed his hands together. "You got into the fort, Chris?"

"Yes, sir. It was no great trick."

"I'm impressed. I thought you were a man worth havin' when we met in Veracruz. Remember that?"

"Yes, sir. I'll never forget it."

"I didn't know how right I was. Like some more wine?"

I shook my head and put my hand over my glass.

He poured more for himself. "Now let me count up. Four men for each of the eights, that's thirty-two. Four twelves, you said. Let's say six men for each of them, which is another twenty-four-fifty-six so far. Two twenty-four-pounders. They could be worked by eight, but let's allow ten-another twenty men. There will be officers, men to tend the furnaces, and so on. I'd say a hundred at least. Does that square with what you saw?"

I shook my head again. "It's more like two hundred, Captain. I'd guess about a hundred and sixty. Maybe a hundred and eighty, but at least a hundred and sixty."

He nodded, I would say to himself. "Stand against a fleet. L'Olonnais took the place, you know. Got a fortune out of it and scared Spain half to death. They've made it a lot stronger than it was in his day. Tell me about the watchtower. Is it part of the fort?"

"No, sir, it's not. It's on a different island on the other side of the strait- Isla de la Vigia. It means Lookout Island. It's a stone tower on a hill. I'd guess the tower must be about fifty feet high, but the top of the tower must be close to a hundred feet above sea level. Whenever a ship comes into the Gulf, the tower signals to the fort. I tried to crack the code, but I couldn't."

"I take it the strait's narrow? That's how it looks on every map I've seen."

"Yes, sir. Really narrow, and the channel down it is worse. Narrow and crooked. There's a famous sandbar called El Tablazo about ten feet down. A lot of ships get hung up on it."

"I've got the picture." The steeple came back. "What would prevent our taking the tower, Chris?"

"Fire from the fort. Soldiers from the fort or from the barracks outside the city."

"There are more soldiers there to defend the city, then."

"Yes, sir. About eight hundred, from what I saw of them."

"Good soldiers?"

I shrugged. "About average, I'd say. I don't know a lot about soldiers."

"Good soldiers stand straight and keep themselves as clean as possible. Like marines." Capt. Burt rose as he spoke, walked to the big stern windows and looked out at Snow Lady. "I don't imagine you know much about marines, either."

I said, "No, Captain. I don't."

"I wish I had some. I wish the Navy would lend me a couple of hundred. Or more." As he walked back to his chair, I noticed that the deck beams just cleared his head. I had to crouch in that cabin, just like I crouched in our cabin on Sabina.

"I've got two plans to propose, Chris. Maybe they're both workable. Maybe neither one is. I'd like your frank opinion of both."

"Sure," I said. "You'll get it, Captain."

"Good. Here's the first. We land on the western shore of the Gulf, march along the coast staying out of range of the guns of the fort, and take the city."

"Sure." I nodded. "That's what I was thinking when I got there. It might be done, sir, but it carries some big disadvantages."

"Which are?"

"A tough march, to start with. The men won't like that. We'd have to leave half our force on the ships, just like Portobello, but Maracaibo's a lot bigger."

"And we've fewer ships. Go on."

"We'd be seen landing by the watchtower. That would give General Sanchez-he's in the city now-two or three days to arrange a defense outside the city. Not just soldiers, but cannon."

"No element of surprise," Capt. Burt murmured.

"Exactly, sir. It would also give General Sanchez time to call for more soldiers from Caracas. He'd get them, too. He's the highest-ranking officer in Venezuela, from what I hear."

"We might beat him before they got there, Chris. Or so I'd hope."

"Yes, sir. We might, but we'd have to get our hands on the gold fast, and they'd have had lots of time to hide it. If we hadn't gotten it, we'd have to fight the fresh soldiers, too. If we beat them, we'd still have to carry everything out to the ships the same way we came in. And if Caracas sent ships instead of troops marching overland-"

Capt. Burt cut me off. "Exactly. That's the great objection. Our ships'd be trapped in the Gulf like so many rats. They'd have to fight their way out, with their crews at half strength."

"Leaving us," I added.

"Right. I take it we agree my first plan's workable but damnably risky. Here's my second. Don't be afraid to get rough with it. All the guns in the fort are directed toward the strait?"