Chapter 21
Blackham led them away from the beach and toward the mountains on the other side of the bay.
Hawke, Court, Shadbolt, and Grieg walked with their hands bound and guarded by enemy crewmembers, but Annabelle moved freely. She made certain to stay as far away from Falco as she could. The way the man stared at her made her skin prickle.
She could easily escape into the jungle, but then what? Return to the captive crew? Hide alone somewhere? Try as she might, she couldn’t think of how she might rescue her companions. And so, she decided the best course was to remain with them.
Annabelle kept a close eye on her four friends as they walked.
Grieg scowled with his one eye at the armed men walking at his sides.
Shadbolt’s face was, as usual, sharp and calm.
Hawke’s gaze moved constantly, his expression shrewd as he studied the path, his companions, and the enemies and their weapons.
Whenever his gaze turned to Annabelle, she felt bolstered, knowing that he was watching over her even in his situation.
The person Annabelle worried about most of all was Court. His footsteps were slow, his body weakened by months of inactivity. And he was constantly pushed along by an impatient captor. The voyage appeared to have aged him, and she wished he were allowed to simply rest on the beach.
Their trek took them up a steep hill. Annabelle’s legs ached as she ascended, and once the pain became unbearable, she paused, rubbing her calves.
Captain Blackham called a halt and fell back, joining her. “Only a little farther, my lady.” He offered his arm.
Annabelle took it, afraid of what he might do if she declined.
The man’s mercurial temperament left her uncertain and uneasy.
He’d kidnapped Court and nearly had her entire crew killed.
But then, he turned around and behaved like the perfect gentleman, showing her the key, escorting her along the path.
And so she allowed herself to move between demeanors as well.
She would be Lady Annabelle or Belle, crewmember of a pirate ship, as the situation demanded.
She glanced at the man. Why had he brought the five of them along as he went for the treasure?
To boast to them of his success in finding it?
She didn’t believe so. Nor did she believe he was being magnanimous in allowing them to appease their curiosity.
But neither his mannerisms nor his words gave her an indication as to his intentions.
Wilkes and Hawke clearly had history. And it was not an agreeable one. Maybe their being here had something to do with that. She didn’t like the idea at all.
Eventually, the group arrived at another waterfall.
But this one didn’t lift Annabelle’s spirits.
The area around it was shaded rather than sunny.
The waterfall was a wide sheet of water, flowing from a smooth rock twenty feet above.
Rather than pouring into a pool, it disappeared into fissures in the rocks beneath.
With high walls on all sides, they appeared to have come to the end of the journey. Annabelle glanced around, wondering if they would have to climb the rocks. She did not think her muscles would permit such exertion.
“Come along, my lady,” Blackham said, extending his hand graciously. “You’ll like this.”
Annabelle followed him toward the waterfall, glancing around for the route they would take to ascend the rock face. But rather than upward, Captain Blackham went through.
Annabelle followed. She closed her eyes against the shower of cold water, then plunged in, emerging on the other side. When she opened her eyes, she gasped, unable to believe what she saw. The waterfall covered the entrance to a cavern.
Captain Wilkes entered after them, as did Falco.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Blackham said.
“It is,” Annabelle agreed, turning around to take it in.
The cavern was dark with murky light coming through the water and casting shimmery glows on the walls.
It was impossible to discern the complete size of the space since the light didn’t reach the far side.
The air was heavy and strangely silent. It smelled damp and earthy.
She wrung her wet hair, shivering, and wished she still had a hat.
She moved farther back into the darkness as the rest of the party crowded in, stumbling over the uneven ground.
Hawke appeared at her side, touching her arm. “Are you all right?” Water dripped from the points of his tricorn.
“Yes,” she told him. “But I am worried about Court.”
“Shadbolt is staying close to him.” He lifted his bound hands, pointing.
Annabelle was pleased to see the first mate was indeed with Court. As was Grieg.
The men lit torches, illuminating the space further. The cavern was high, and in places water dripped into pools. Around the edges of the cave were dark openings that Annabelle thought may lead to tunnels.
Blackham approached her, carrying a torch. “My lady, shall we?” He offered his arm once again. She glanced at Hawke, then took it, wrinkling her nose at both the feel and the smell of his wet coat. Just because it was finely made did not mean it was clean.
“Come along now, men. We’re nearly there,” Blackham said in a loud voice as he started across the cavern.
Captain Wilkes pushed his way past the others to stand beside Blackham. He spoke loudly as well, as if wanting to show he was also leading the expedition. “Watch your step,” he said. “The floors can be slippery. And beware of loose rocks.”
“And, of course, bottomless pits,” Blackham added.
His voice was far too cheery for the situation, as if he were deliberately attempting to keep all of them off-kilter. Annabelle was glad to see Hawke remained close to her. And much less glad to see that Falco did as well.
Blackham led the way into a passage off the main cavern. He made his way through the warren of tunnels, turning down some and bypassing others. The path they took sloped gradually upward, the floor becoming less slippery as they continued.
Annabelle concentrated on the route, hoping to soon be taking it back out to the exit.
“How did you find this place?” she asked.
“A man I obtained the key from was a descendant of one of de Silva’s original crew.
It was passed down through the generations along with stories about where to find the door.
” He glanced at her, the torchlight casting frightening shadows over his face.
“He was . . . persuaded to tell all that he knew.”
Annabelle’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.
“I found part of the key as well,” Captain Wilkes said from behind.
Annabelle glanced over her shoulder.
“I’d heard rumors that it was on a piece of jewelry in a painting by Velázquez. It took years to locate the painting, and even longer to locate the subject, Senora Rodriguez—”
A white figure with dark holes for eyes appeared from the darkness. A skeleton hung on the wall, a rusted sword skewered through its ribs. At the sight, Annabelle screamed, pulling back and tripping over her feet as she tried to get away.
Hawke was at her side in an instant.
“Belle!” Grieg’s voice came from behind along with the shuffling sound of running feet.
“Oh yes, here we are,” Blackham said pleasantly. He handed the torch to Falco and turned to examine the iron door in the wall.
Annabelle shrunk back, away from the skeleton, away from Blackham and Falco. She hadn’t even noticed the door.
“There’s nothing to fear,” Hawke said gently. “A dead man can’t hurt you.”
Grieg pushed through the crowd. When he saw the skeleton, he grimaced, crossing himself. “Poor fellow.” He patted Annabelle’s shoulder as well as he was able with his bound hands.
Annabelle kept her gaze away from the skeleton’s empty eyes.
Falco poured oil into the lock, and then Blackham worked the key in. It made a screeching sound as he twisted it.
“I worried the iron would be rusted,” he muttered. “But the mechanism must be fashioned of silver.”
The screeching stopped with a click. Blackham pushed on the door.
When it didn’t move, he indicated for Falco and others to have at it.
The men braced themselves, grunting as they strained against it.
With more screeching, the door at last budged, scraping slowly inward.
Captain Wilkes moved close, but Blackham was still nearest. Once the opening was wide enough, Blackham stuck in his torch, peering around, and then stepped inside.