Chapter 1 #2
“Yes, thank you,” Annabelle said. “And bring two cider mugs with it and some beef sandwiches if you please. Oh, and if there are any sausage rolls left from breakfast, bring those as well.”
A few moments later, Sarah returned with the food and drink.
Once she had gone, Annabelle poured the rum while the men attacked the sandwiches.
She was impatient for their news, but she knew from experience that food grew scarce near the end of a voyage, and eating the same meals became tedious.
They had likely not had fresh meat for weeks. She could wait a moment longer.
Grieg finished eating first. He took a long pull from the glass, then sighed, burped, and patted his belly. “That hit the mark. Thank you, Belle.”
“You are very welcome,” she said. She felt the shift from being Lady Annabelle—member of genteel society—to Belle—crewmember of Calypso’s Quest—as if it were a physical change. She relaxed into her seat. “Now, you must tell me why you are here. Where is Court? What is wrong?”
Shadbolt held up a finger. He stepped to the drawing room door and opened it quickly, looking into the corridor to make certain it was empty. He crossed the room on silent feet and checked the other door. Satisfied that none of the household was listening, he nodded to his shipmate.
Grieg came to sit in the countess’s chair beside Annabelle, and Shadbolt brought a chair, setting it on her other side. The men leaned toward her.
Grieg spoke, his voice low. “Belle, Captain Courtney has been taken.”
The uncharacteristic solemnity frightened her as much as his words. Annabelle jumped to her feet, unable to help herself, and her sudden movement made her companions pull back.
Shadbolt patted her arm, but the gesture did little to soothe.
Annabelle forced herself to sit back in her chair. She spoke quietly, although her heart was pounding. “Taken where? By whom? What is being done?” Her breathing was coming fast, making her words sound as if she were panting.
Grieg put up his hands in a placating manner.
“Do not fear. We know who the villain is. And we believe we know where they’ve gone.
” He frowned, and then glanced from Shadbolt to Annabelle, taking in a breath through his nose and exhaling before speaking.
“Belle, do you remember the legend of the lost treasure of Francisco de Silva?”
Annabelle blinked, confused. “I—of course I remember it.” She’d grown up begging the sailors to tell her the story. It was one of her favorites. When she was small, she had even directed a dramatic production of the tale on the main deck featuring her shipmates in the various roles.
Shadbolt nodded, rolling his hand for her to continue.
“You wish for me to recount it?” she asked, unsure what the story had to do with her godfather’s kidnapping.
“Please,” Grieg said.
“Very well.” Annabelle said, trusting that they had a purpose for the request. She folded her hands in her lap and began.
“Two hundred years ago, the conquistador Francisco de Silva captained a treasure ship, Magdalena, a grand galleon, carrying a cargo of gold and silver from Potosí. But on the return journey to Spain, he was overtaken by a hurricane that not only blew the voyage off course but also killed most of the crew and wrecked the ship. There were only three survivors. The men washed ashore onto a deserted island, one none of them had ever seen before. And being so far away from the usual shipping routes, they had little hope of rescue.”
The men watched her expectantly, and so she continued, feeling as if she were performing a recitation for a school-master.
“Upon exploring the island, the conquistadores discovered under-ground caves. Capitán de Silva and his two men brought the treasure from the wrecked ship and secreted it away in the caverns. And then he sealed up the entrance, hiding it so it was impossible to find unless one knew where to look. He locked a secret door with three keys. Las claves de fortuna.” As a child, Annabelle had loved to say the Spanish words.
“To ensure that none returned on their own to claim the treasure, each man took one of the keys. And they made a pact together never to reveal the location of Isla de Plata.”
“Yes,” Shadbolt said. “That is it.” He looked to Grieg.
“The night before your godfather disappeared,” Grieg said, “Captain Jude Blackham paid him a visit.”
Annabelle had met Captain Blackham once, many years earlier. She shuddered as the memory surfaced.
Shadbolt had lifted her from the jolly boat onto the beach in Santo Domingo.
Her small feet were bare, and her toes pressed into the wet sand as she took Court’s hand and started along the road into the town.
They had a special tradition of visiting La Taberna del Sol when they were in port because the taverner’s wife, Senora Morales, made a fuss over Annabelle.
The older woman would kiss her cheeks as she served their food and filled their glasses.
Annabelle’s and Court’s favorite part of the meal was the special dessert of Tocino de Cielo, of which Senora Morales always provided an extra-large serving.
When they reached the main street of the town, they made their way around and through the crowds. A man stepped onto the road ahead of them. He was slender and wore an embellished coat and a feathered cap.
“Blackham,” Court muttered. He cursed and pushed Annabelle behind him.
“I have a grievance to settle with you, Courtney.” Blackham’s polite words were undercut with bitterness. The road around them cleared. “The Reina Sofía was my prize.”
“She was won fairly,” Court said. “I’ll not apologize for sailing the swifter vessel.”
“I’m not asking for an apology,” Blackham said. The metallic ring of a sword sounded.
Court tensed.
Annabelle’s cheeks burned with anger. Although she did not understand the details of the exchange, she knew Court was being threatened. She did not even stop to consider the danger as she jumped from behind him, drawing her own wooden sword and holding it out toward Blackham.
“Stand down, sir,” she commanded.
Court put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back.
Blackham blinked in surprise. “And who is this?”
She tried to shake off Court’s grip. “Lady Annabelle Bradford,” she said in her most haughty tone.
Court pulled her back against him. “Belle, no,” he said in a soft voice.
Blackham’s expression settled into a sinister grin that made her insides turn cold. His eyes were dark, and even as a child, Annabelle recognized evil.
“You’ve quite a protector, Reid Courtney.” He didn’t look at Court but kept his gaze on her as he spoke.
Annabelle glared at the man, and with all the fire in her ten-year-old heart, she declared, “I will protect Court until the day I die.”
Her words served only to make Blackham’s grin grow wider.
Court held her tighter.
Annabelle didn’t remember whether they had continued to the tavern, but she did remember the feeling of unease that had remained long after. Court had made her promise to avoid the man at all costs.
“Blackham was asking for the location of the island,” Grieg continued, bringing her mind back to the present, “which Captain Courtney refused to give. Blackham may somehow be forcing the captain to lead him to it.”
“But Isla de Plata is only a legend,” Annabelle said. “Court wouldn’t be able to give the location because there is none. It does not exist.”
Shadbolt rubbed his chin. “Perhaps it is not only a legend.”
The men shared another glance, and Shadbolt nodded, encouraging Greig to continue.
“Years ago, before you were born,” Grieg said, “a story circulated about a ship named The Good Will. Rumor said its final journey was ill-fated. The crew had sailed farther abroad than they had intended and were met with perils they did not expect.”
“They were believed to have discovered Isla de Plata?” Annabelle asked, doubtful.
Both men nodded.
“But rumors are just that,” she said. “Hearsay, gossip, supposition.”
“Perhaps,” Shadbolt said in his quiet voice. “But you must know that before he was captain of Calypso’s Quest, Captain Courtney sailed with Captain Westwood on The Good Will’s final voyage.”
Annabelle studied the men, wondering if they were having a lark at her expense.
Or perhaps the rum she’d served was not their first drink of the day.
She shook her head, frowning. None of what they were telling her made sense.
In fact, it seemed ridiculous. She sorted through the arguments crowding her mind, choosing what she thought was the most logical.
“Even if it were true, Blackham could have surely found another of the former crewmembers of The Good Will to sail with him. Why bother to take Court when he had refused?”
Shadbolt nodded as if he’d anticipated her question.