Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Daylight revealed the magnitude of the damage to the mizzenmast. Furness, McTavish and Jenni inspected it and gave their collective opinion that it was past repairing. There was a spare main mast in the hold but not a spare mizzen. Callista called a meeting in her cabin to discuss what they should do.

Mick had been let out of sick bay for the meeting. He still looked pretty terrible, with cuts all over his face, but his colour was better, and he seemed well enough considering.

Also present were Coats, Chen, and Connor. The captain had a map out on her desk, Connor turned his head sideways to try to see what it was, but Callista interrupted him by starting the meeting.

“Right, we have two choices. The mizzen is past repairing, so we can either use the spare main that we have in the hold and cut it down to size or...” she waved at the map, and they gathered around her desk to look at it. “I think, but I’m not absolutely certain, Mick I need you to check my calculations, you’re a better navigator than me, but I think, we’re about fifty miles off the coast of Flores, an Island of the Azores.” She put a finger on the map.

“The storm blew us off course a bit in this direction.” She traced the path of their journey that was marked on the map and what she guessed was their current location. “I wasn’t planning to stop at Flores, though we have on previous trips. It’s Portuguese, small population, but sufficient for us to get supplies like wood and water, and maybe a few other things like fresh meat and vegetables. Flores is a bit of a Garden of Eden; it has a glorious climate and it’s very picturesque.”

“Aye it is that,” said Mick with a smile.

“The thing is, stopping will delay our arrival in Jamaica, and I’m worried about missing Perez.”

Mick shook his head. “A couple of days won’t make any difference Cal. His trip is a much longer one than ours, I suspect we will be there in plenty of time to intercept him, even with a stop in Flores.”

“You don’t think we should use the spare mainmast?” asked Connor.

“I don’t,” said Mick. “Coming back, we’re likely to run into more storms, and in any case, we have to cross the West Atlantic to get to Jamaica which means crossing the Sargasso Sea, to the North and Southeast of Bermuda. Those are dangerous waters. We should keep the mainmast; we may very well need it.”

Coats nodded. “I agree.”

“Chen?” prompted Callista.

“Agree Captain, Bermuda is dangerous. Would be preferrable to go around.”

“We won’t have time. We’ve done it before and been fine. Haven’t we Mick?”

“Aye but not at this time of the year. The hurricanes are bad in this season.”

Connor’s stomach tightened. This didn’t sound good.

“September is the worst month, it’s only July. We’ll be fine,” said Callista.

“You’re as bad as your father,” grumbled Mick.

“So, Mick, can you check my calculations, are we close to Flores?”

Mick sighed and took a seat at the desk, pulling the book she had recorded their coordinates in towards him. He studied them for a few minutes and said, “As long as your sextant measurements are accurate, yes, I believe you’re right. I’ll double check them, but we should be just Northwest of Flores and should be able to make landfall on Flores in under five hours.”

“Good, then we’re agreed, we will stop at Flores tonight, spend the day collecting provisions and leave the following day.”

“What about shore leave Captain? Risk we lose some unhappy crew?” asked Chen.

“You’re right, we will limit who can go ashore. Mr Mor and I will go to get provisions and I’ll send McTavish with Jenni Wade to find the wood for the mast. I wouldn’t trust Furness to come back if we sent him ashore.”

“Perhaps we should? Better to be rid of him,” said Mick, echoing Connor’s thoughts.

Callista shook her head. “No, we need his skills. Jenni’s good with an axe, hammer and plane, but she hasn’t Fury’s experience with ship building and repair.”

As often the way,after a storm, the day was another perfect sunny day with a light, brisk breeze and the sun glinting off the ocean turning it to sparkling sapphires. They limped into Faja Grande bay, Flores, five hours later and dropped anchor. The bay offered a beautiful view of the small settlement of Faja Grande, a collection of stone cottages nestled into a green plateau, overlooked by a magnificent escarpment of rock and lush green foliage. This was punctuated by waterfalls that fed a stream that flowed to the water’s edge. The stream bracketed a strip of beach at the northern end, with fingers of rock reaching out into the surf at the southern end.

Callista was right, the island was picturesque, its beauty both rugged and gloriously bright and green. It really did look like a slice of paradise, especially to one who had spent his entire life between brick walls and pavements, choked by smog and garbage. Connor was still gaping at it in wonder when Callista hoied him over to help lower the pinnace into the water. It had been decided that they would do a quick reconnoitre of what provisions they could get and spend tomorrow acquiring and loading them.

If Jenni and McTavish could locate a suitable tree to fell and fashion into a new mizzenmast today, they could spend tomorrow working with Furness to put it up, minimising the time they need spend at anchor.

Predictably Furness was not happy about being excluded from the excursion to the Island, but when threatened with the brig as an alternative, he backed down. That didn’t stop Connor’s shoulder blades from twitching. He could feel Fury’s animosity, and it worried him, not for himself so much as the women. And Callista in particular.

He caught Mick’s eye and muttered, “Wish she’d see reason and cut the man loose. You’re right he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

Mick sighed and rubbed his head. “Aye but she’s stubborn. There’s no budging her when she has a notion in her head. She’s convinced we need him.”

They’d none of them had any sleep, being up all night dealing with the storm, and its aftermath, so he ought to be tired, but his nerves felt taught as spring wire.

The pinnace was thirty-two feet long, with two sails and three pairs of oars, big enough to take quite a few crew and provisions.

McTavish was about to climb over the rail to get into the boat, when a voice behind him made Connor turn. It was Windy followed by the doctor.

“Wait! Captain,” he bowed, always punctiliously polite, Alan Chetwynde. “Permission to join the expedition please. We need more supplies for the medicine chest.” He waved to the doctor who had drawn up beside him. She was a tiny thing next to Windy’s tall, thin frame. She had a linen bag slung across her chest, as did Windy.

“We need many herbs and plants, for treatments, when we rescue the slaves. Supplies are low,” said Liang.

“Yes of course, I didn’t think of that, very good Miss Liang, Mr Chetwynde climb aboard,” said Callista waving them toward the rail.

McTavish, with a large axe strapped to his back, climbed over the rail and began the descent into the pinnace bobbing below. Callista followed to steady the boat, then Jenni, Windy, Liang and Connor came last. The three men took the oars, the sails were furled, not needed for the short row to the shore. Chen, and Coats were left in charge of the ship. Mick was sent to his cabin to rest, and Furness had been threatened with incarceration if he caused trouble. Connor hoped it was enough to keep him under control.

Callista sat in the stern, facing forward, and directed the men, while the two women sat in the middle holding their satchels.

Ten minutes steady rowing had the pinnace scraping sand and the men leaped out, splashed to shore and dragged the boat up the beach assisted by Callista.

Several other small fishing vessels were also drawn up on the beach.

“That should be high enough to avoid the incoming tide,” she said. Before she could say anything else, a burly, bronze-skinned man, with dark hair and eyes, dressed in a shirt, very loud waistcoat that was undone, buff-coloured breeches and boots, strode down the beach towards them.

“Senhorita Callista!” the man said with a strong accent, holding out his arms in greeting. To Connor’s chagrin he swept Callista into a hug that almost dragged her off her feet. He planted a kiss on both cheeks before setting her down. “Welcome! Welcome! It is so long since you have graced our shores with your beauty! Where is Senor Caruso?”

Callista smiled sadly, “Carlos, my father is dead. Perez took him down in a firefight.” She swallowed visibly and Connor felt the stab of sympathetic pain in his chest. He tightened his hands into fists to prevent himself from reaching out to comfort her.

“Ah no! No! My friend Caruso! You break my heart minha querida!” he clutched his chest dramatically. But for all the theatrics, Connor caught the glint of tears in the man’s eyes. “Perez was here two months ago; he stay for quite a while! He enjoy himself. If I had known, I spit him with my blade!”

“Perez here? Two months ago?” Callista pounced on the words. “Where was he headed do you know?”

“Aye the Slave Coast. He boast about the deal he going to do for slaves with a Mister Hathaway in America.”

“When did he leave?”

“Four weeks ago? He stay here, three, four weeks. My Ana go with him, they spend much time together when he here. Ah if I know about Caruso, I stop it!” he was visibly distressed. Connor also noted that he didn’t seem perturbed by the slave trade aspect of Perez activities, but then the Portuguese had been involved in the slave trade for centuries, he would think nothing of it.

“So, he is heading to America, not Jamaica?’

“Oh, he go to Jamaica, he tell me he have buyers in Puerto Rico, St Domenico, and Havana as well as Jamaica and Charleston, where this Mister Hathaway is. He say he make a lot of money, marry my Ana, make her rich woman.”

Callista ground her teeth visibly and Connor’s fists clenched again.

“Did he say how long he thought it would take to acquire the slaves?”

Carlos shrugged. “Four to five weeks? He say he make rapid journey across the Atlantic now he got a new keel, the Esperanza, she a very fast ship now. He say six weeks to reach the Caribbean.”

“Damn!” muttered Callista.

“It’s all right Cal–Captain, we will still beat him to the Caribbean. If your calculations are correct, it will take us about twenty-five days to reach the Caribbean. How long will it have taken him to get to the African coast from here?”

Callista shrugged, “about twelve days, give or take.”

“He left here five weeks ago. Say it took him two weeks to get there, that’s three weeks left. If his calculation is right as to how long it will take him to acquire and load the slaves he’s still in Africa and will probably be there for another three weeks at least. Then he’s got to cross the Atlantic which is another six weeks. We will be there in plenty of time to intercept him.”

Callista chewed her lip. “In fact, we could catch him before he leaves the African coast if we’re quick.”

Connor nodded slowly. “Yes, we could.”

Callista grinned. “That would be much better, we save the slaves from the horror of the middle passage.”

“You chase Perez?” A wide grin split Carlos’ face.

“Yes, we have a letter of Marque to seize the ship and free the slaves in the name of the British Government.” Callista’s own smile broadened.

“You work for the British?” Carlos laid a hand on her arm. “The British help us fight Napoleon in the wars!”

Callista nodded.

“How you do this?”

“Papa did it. He got the letter of Marque from the High Court of Admiralty, along with a pardon for his previous crimes.”

“Ah Caruso, you clever man!” he sighed. “He will be missed!”

“He is,” said Callista shortly. She shook herself visibly and straightened.

“Carlos our mizzenmast is broken, we need a new one, and need to stock up on supplies for the slaves, wood, food water and medical supplies. Can you help us?”

“Of course, of course. There is a good stand of pine trees in that direction,” he pointed towards the rock escarpment that ran along the shoreline to the north. “And there are many medicinal herbs growing in the rock over here, he pointed south.”

“Excellent! McTavish and Wade you go that way, Liang and Chetwynde that way. Mr Mor and I will go with Carlos and secure our supplies. Liang I’ll get you to select what we need in the way of medical supplies tomorrow. Meet back here just before dusk, we have about five hours of daylight left. And don’t get lost, I don’t want to have to send a search party out for you.”

The others nodded and dispersed, leaving Callista and Connor to follow Carlos into the centre of the small settlement.

Stone built cottages clustered in a rough grid pattern with stone walled fields strewn around the perimeter. One main street wound between a cluster of buildings that constituted the village centre. Here they found a general store, a pub, a blacksmith, and a church. A rather grand looking double-story building done in white stucco with a red tiled roof dominated the square at the centre of the cluster. This, Connor learned, was the government building of the Concelho, the local council of which Carlos was Mayor. It was also his home.

He took them to the general store and made it clear they were to have whatever they wanted, for a price naturally. He then promised to ensure they would have ample provisions of wood, water, meat and vegetables to load tomorrow. Callista handed over a purse and Carlos begged them to come and have a meal with him and his family.

“Perhaps later?” said Callista. “I want to show Mr Mor a little of the Island.” She flushed faintly as she said it and Carlos opened his mouth in an O and then gave her a fatherly look. “I see. You take him to the lagoon hm?”

She did blush then, and Connor had a hard time suppressing the smile and the twitch in his breeches. Carlos transferred his gaze to Connor. “You look after her, Senor Mor or I do you some damage, and don’t think I can’t. I am a virtuoso of the blade!” he made a riposte motion with this hand.

Connor nodded. “I will,” he said. His gaze dropped to Callista, and her eyes had widened, and lips parted in an expression he found hard to read. Anticipation? Surprise? Longing? All three? It was gone in a moment, and he wondered if he had seen it.

They left Carlos and headed out of the village across the fields.

“Where are we going?”

“The lagoon, of course,” she said. “Fancy a bath, Irish?”

He groaned. “God yes, I feel filthy! Despite being drenched last night. Washing in three inches of water a day doesn’t make one feel clean.”

“I know.” She strode out, and he lengthened his stride to keep up with her over the uneven ground. Everything was lush green. “There’s a waterfall and a hot spring too.” she reached into her pocket and brought out a bar of soap and a comb and razor. “I came prepared.”

He laughed. “You’re one hell of a woman you know.”

She chuckled and put the articles back into her pocket and produced a pack of cards and dice from the other. “I came prepared to win us some more gold too. Carlos can never resist a game or two, and he’s terrible at cards.”

“I’m not,” said Connor. “I managed a gaming hell before you captured me.”

“That right? Think you can beat me?”

“Think you can beat me?” he countered.

She grinned, “We shall see, won’t we?”

Connor wasn’t as good a card player as Garmon, but he wasn’t bad. He’d seen enough of Callista’s varied talents not to underestimate her. She was nothing like any woman he’d ever met, and her confidence was seductive. God, he wanted her. Again. His cock lengthened in his breeches at the prospect of getting submerged in water, naked, with her.

“Who is Ana?” he asked to change the subject and divert his dirty thoughts.

“Carlos’ eldest daughter. I’m surprised he let her go with Perez, but she is a very determined woman, I’m guessing she took a shine to Perez and made up her mind she wanted him.” Callista shrugged. “I might hate the bastard, but he’s very good looking and can be charming when he chooses.”

A lick of something he recognised belatedly as jealousy, stabbed Connor in the chest. Had Perez been one of her lovers? Was that why she hated him so? He wanted to ask but, in some ways, he didn’t want to know.

They reached the edge of the fields and entered a strip of wooded land, situated beneath the towering rocky escarpment that surrounded the plateau, on which the small settlement stood. The ground beneath was soft with leaf mould and dotted with rocky moss. A fresh earthy smell and the sound of rushing water ahead enveloped them in a cocoon of dim light, the sun mostly blocked by the leafy canopy overhead.

They tromped forward for another five minutes and abruptly emerged in a clearing before a crystal green lagoon with a bit of sandy beach on one lip. The rest was surrounded by rock and the source of the rushing water sound was a magnificent waterfall dropping into the lagoon down the rock face fifty yards away. Surrounded by lush greenery, it was paradise. Connor had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.