We reached Portobello ready to drop. Just the same, we put out the same day. A Spanish pinnace had been sighted the day before, everyone felt the galleons could not be far behind, and the mates left in charge had practically been holding their crews at pistol-point. When they heard that Dobkin, Cox, and the rest were not with us, they hoisted anchor within an hour. We would meet in the Saint Blaise Islands to decide what to do next.
Before we got there, however, Capt. Harker joined us in his sloop, the Princess. Novia and I watched him board the Weald and speculated a good deal on what news he might bring-a sport in which we were soon joined by Boucher. When I saw signal flags being run up the mizzen of the Weald, I felt certain the signal was to be "All Captains." When the flags were shaken out, however, it was only "Capt. Chris" who was asked to join Capt. Burt.
To head off a row I took Novia with me, and Capt. Burt made no objection. TWO DAYS, AND I have written nothing. My passport came, but no one is answering the telephone at the Cuban consulate in New York. None of the airlines I have called is offering service to Havana yet. Nor would I wish to try to make my way to the airport through this snow, to be entirely honest; mono service is not to be relied upon in weather as cold as we have had.
Before I write any more, I ought to explain that I have been generally called Capt. Chris or Fr. Chris because of the length and difficulty of my last name. Few know it, and fewer can pronounce it correctly. As for spelling out my name in signal flags, there is not a signalman in the world who would not abbreviate it.
After mass today, I went trolling for some pirate Web sites and found several. One offered a short biography of a Capt. Cos or Kruss, believed to have been Dutch or German. It was not until I read that he had disappeared after sailing from Havana alone in a small craft that I realized that I was "Capt. Cos," although the detail that Cos was said to have made his wife his chief lieutenant should have alerted me. When the four of us were seated in Capt. Burt's cabin, he said, "You two have met Captain Harker before, I know. I left him at Long Bay to speed the bigger vessels to me, and he's done well. I've already given him his company's share of what we got at Portobello and Santa Maria. That was little enough, I'm afraid."
Harker nodded. "Not what we were hoping for, but bad luck can't last forever."
"Exactly. Forgive me now, Hal. I'm goin' to repeat a few things you've already heard.
"Chris, you know what I planned earlier. Maracaibo's a different article from that damned Portobello. Or Santa Maria, either. Portobello may be the most disease-ridden town in the world. Maracaibo's healthy. Portobello's a coastal place. Because it is, the good cits feel exposed and are forever demandin' more protection from the Spanish Crown. Maracaibo's an inland port, at the tail end of the Gulf of Venezuela. Think of jolly old London, up the Thames from the sea. Better still, think of Santa Maria, miles and miles up its river from the Gulf of Saint Michael."
I nodded.
"You say Maracaibo is not like." Novia looked worn and tired, as all of us except for Harker did. "How is different?"
"Santa Maria's little more than a fishing village, Senora. Maracaibo's a city, larger than Portobello and Santa Maria combined."
"A rich city," Harker added.
Novia shrugged. "Ver es creer." I doubt that either Capt. Burt or Harker understood her.
"A damnation rich city. The cacao trade alone…" Burt shook his head. "Great fortunes have been made in that. More are bein' made every day. Besides that, the land behind Maracaibo's prime cattle country. Hides, tallow, and dried and salt beef flow like water through the city, tons of 'em."
"What is cacao?" I asked. "I've never heard of it."
Novia grinned. "We say chocolate, Crisoforo. What is your English word?"
Capt. Burt answered for me. "Pretty much the same, Senora-chocolate." He turned to me. "Chocolate's made from cacao beans, and they say the best beans in the world are grown in Venezuela."
"About this I do not know," Novia told him. "Three things only, I know. Of these primero, my first, is that chocolate costs silver in Coruna, where it is drunk at the tables of the most rich. Segundo, my second, is that this Maracaibo has been warned of us. Tercero, my third, is that Crisoforo and I have only marineros sufficient for the work of our sails. Because I know these three things, I listen and listen. But I do not believe."
Capt. Burt smiled. I could not see his hands, but I suspected that he was rubbing them together. "Everythin' you say is true, Senora. As to the price of chocolate, I can only set my seal to your own assessment. It's awfully valuable. Because it is, great sums reach Maracaibo. As to the second-"
Harker interrupted him. "Can we trust her, Captain? She's Spanish."
"I'd trust her," Capt. Burt said slowly, "as far as I'd trust any man I know."
I said, "You can certainly trust Novia-and me-enough to tell us we'll be going back to Port Royal to refit and fill our ship's companies."
"I won't lie to either of you." Capt. Burt smiled again. "We're not. I mean to recruit among the logwood cutters of Campeche and the Cimaroons of Honduras."
Novia looked sidelong at me, and when I did not speak asked, "They are good marineros there, Capitan?"
"They ain't seamen at all, Senora. You and Chris will have to train 'em. Which you'll do, I know, and first rate."
"They're good fighting men," Harker added.
Captain Burt nodded. "That takes care of your third point, Senora. As for your second, I'm fortunate to have a captain who speaks Spanish so well that he can pass as a Spaniard."
He turned to me, and I would swear his eyes twinkled. "I mean to send him to Maracaibo ahead of us to take the lay of the land."
"No! You cannot!" Novia jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair.
I made her sit down again and said, "Yes, he can. I'll go, of course, Captain."
"Knew you would, Chris." Capt. Burt cleared his throat. "Somethin' was said about trustin' a while back. Just to show you two how much I trust you both, I'm goin' to tell you somethin' more. Mum's the word on this. Do you recollect the Spanish pinnace? The one that scared us out of Portobello?"
We nodded.
"Well, shipmates, the captain of that pinnace is sittin' at this table with us this very minute."
I do not know whether Novia's jaw dropped, but I am sure mine did.
Capt. Burt's laughter filled the cabin. "Hal flew Spanish colors, thinkin' there might be a galleon or two about. A good sensible precaution, I call it."
"This you knew, Capitan?"
"Not at first, Senora. I came flash only after I'd talked to Hal here. But think, now. Leaky ships, most shot up a bit by that fort. Foul bottoms on some of 'em. Small crews. But got out without seein' so much as the topsails of a galleon, and why didn't the pinnace shadow us? It's what they do, usually, Senora. Take station 'tween you and the galleons, where the galleons will see their signals."
I said, "Now that you know, shouldn't you send the ships back to Portobello?"
"I will, Chris. Trust me for that. But not yet. Not till they're in better shape, and there's been time for the crews to shake off their fevers. Only tell me now, you were with us, and the senora, too. Is Dobkin comin' back? Honest, now."
"He could," I said. "There's a chance." Somehow I felt that if I said no, I would be dooming him and all the Sabina men who had gone with him.
"Odds, Chris?"
"Ten to one, maybe."
Capt. Burt grunted. "You're more generous than Bram Burt would've been, let me tell you. My ten doubloons to your one, hey? If we don't see him within a year, or hear that he got out alive, you'll owe me your one. If we do, I'll owe you my ten. Bet?"
"Bet," I said. "But I've another question-one that has nothing to do with Dobkin. Can I ask it?"
"Fire away."
"It may be for Captain Harker, really. More for him than for you. Where's Lesage?"
Capt. Burt nodded. "That's for Hal, right enough. All I know is what he's told me. Hal?"
Novia said, "We spoke to you at the Long Bay. You say you must wait for this Lesage, but we must go. Now you are come. What has befallen him?"
"An unshipped rudder, madam. No more than that. We set out in company. The second day, it was. He signaled me to proceed with all speed, saying he would follow when practicable. He's senior to me, madam, so I did as ordered, though I offered our assistance first. He thanked me for that, but said it was not needed. So off I went."
Novia turned to me. "We were many days in the forest, Crisoforo."
"We were." I tried to recall the entries I had made in the log, and the ones Bouton and Boucher had made as well. "From the time we went ashore to take Portobello to the time we sailed away from it comes to thirty-three days, I would say. I don't believe that can be off by much."
"So I think, Capitan Harker. A month, I say. We women are given a reason to take note of the moon. You waited long when we had gone?"
Harker nodded. "Those were my orders, madam. I was to wait until your good captain came and Captain Lesage. Not one, but both. Wait I did."
"So may God wait my soul. Long and long, I hope. Capitan Burt, you are our man of wisdom. Where is this Lesage, who was Chris's lieutenant once?"
Capt. Burt spread his hands. "I have no more notion than you, Senora. A thousand things may chance at sea."
I said, "He may be hanging from a Spanish rope right now." The thought cheered me, I admit.
"Aye," Harker put in. "Or his crew may have voted him out and gone elsewhere-he's a hard man, by repute."
"He may be nosin' around Portobello lookin' for us, Chris."
I felt Novia's small, hard hand slip into mine as she said, "You will send this man back to see, Capitan Burt?"
With a slight frown, he shook his head.
"When we come, Chris wish to know. Now I, too, wish to know this. I do not like them, this capitan and his ship which disappear."
"You fear some treachery, Senora. What is it?"
Her hand tightened on mine. "I do not know."
"No more do I, Senora. What could he do? Tell the Spanish we intended Portobello? By the time he learned of that, Portobello had fallen to us. Tell the Spanish we intended Maracaibo? Yes, certainly, and it seems someone did. You'll remember Goslin's letters, eh? So that may have been Lesage. But it may have been any of two dozen others as well."
Novia did not speak.
"We held a meetin', Senora. A council of war. You weren't there, and neither was Chris, nor Lesage for that matter. The rest were. Hal and I were for Maracaibo. Only us. Not Goslin', not Cox, not Dobkin, not Ogg, though I'd counted on Ogg. Not another soul. What does that tell you?"
I said, "I don't know, Captain, and I don't think Novia does either."
Capt. Burt leaned back in his chair, making a steeple of his fingers. For about half a minute, nobody spoke. Then Novia burst out, "We wish to know what it tell you, Capitan."
"Suppose that you'd known I meant to raid Maracaibo, Senora. Suppose further that you, famished for gold, had sold your knowledge to the Spanish. Would you want to send Chris here off to help me raid the place?"
She shook her head violently. "Not I!"
Capt. Burt nodded. "What about you, yourself, Senora? You marched with us from Portobello to Santa Maria."
"Back also, Capitan. Who is carry me?"
"Would you want to march on Maracaibo?"
"No! They are warn. I have say this."
"So you have, though I intend Maracaibo even so. If you had been a captain in that council of war to which I referred, wouldn't you say the same? Maracaibo's fly? Let's go somewhere else?"
Capt. Burt looked at each of us in turn. "Recollect now that every captain there, save for Hal and me, said just that."
Harker said, "They won't all have spilled the works, Captain."
"Naturally not, Hal. I'm saying only that if our Judas was there, he'd have spoken as the rest did-and might, perhaps, have suggested Portobello. The ideal result of our meetin'-from his perspective, mind-would be for me and some others to go off after Maracaibo, while he and the rest went elsewhere. He might've asked himself where Bram Burt wouldn't care to go, d'ye see? And been answered Portobello, for saucy Bram knows Portobello to be a hellhole.
"Of them that was at the meetin', who could Bram trust then, shipmates?"
I said, "Only Captain Harker here, I would think."
"Well said, Chris, but there's one other. Besides myself."
I probably looked as blank as my mind was at that moment.
"Hal? Care to have a go?"
He shook his head.
"Senora? You've a long head."
"Capitan Isham, I think. Because you have say nothing of him here."
"Clever." Capt. Burt smiled and leaned toward us, his elbows on the table. "Clever, but not right. No, I ask you, shipmates, if you had played Judas with Spain, and had afterward found letters saying the Spanish had been warned, would you tell Bram Burt?"
Novia shook her head.
I said, "I see."
"So you should, Chris. There's a good reason to trust Goslin', and here's another. When the rest went off to Panama and left me, who stayed by me? Why, it was Goslin' again. You with him, to be sure, and your man Rombeau. So there's four captains I can trust. I suppose everybody'd like a spot more wine?"
When it had been poured, Novia said, "Four to trust, but I do not count four here."
"Correct, Senora. Goslin' spoke against Maracaibo at the meetin'. If I was to say to him what I've said to you today, he'd always think he was not trusted. He is, but he'd think the contrary, d'ye see? I wouldn't want that. You can't trust a man who thinks he ain't trusted, Senora, and you can make book on that. As for Rombeau, I called him Chris's man, which he is. It's my wish he should make fast there, for the time bein'. If he were drinkin' with us now, he'd begin to think himself Chris's equal, and I don't want it. Do you, Senora?"