Chapter 22
As the enemy pirate captains filed through the door, Hawke and Lady Annabelle exchanged a look.
She appeared worried, afraid even. But also eager.
He felt the same. He’d heard tales of the lost Magdalena ever since he was a child—as had everyone, he imagined.
Was it actually here, hidden behind the door as the legend claimed?
He would have chosen to discover the truth under different circumstances, of course. Being bound, wet, and a prisoner of his archenemy was low on his wish of preferred scenarios.
Falco directed Hawke and the other prisoners to precede him through the door, pointing with a grunt. He really was more beast than man as evidenced not only by his mannerisms but also his smell. Hawke’s lip curled.
Lady Annabelle went through the doorway first. She shied away as she passed Falco.
The others followed.
Beyond the door, the torchlight revealed a vast chamber with a high ceiling and tunnels leading off either side of the cavern.
But Hawke hardly noticed those details, because directly in front of him, taking up the majority of the space, were stacks of wooden chests.
They were uniform in size, and Hawke figured them to be roughly six feet deep, four feet wide and high.
Counting the chests he could see—and estimating, based on the distance to the cavern’s far wall, how many were hidden behind—he thought there could be more than fifty of them.
Grieg whistled, and even Shadbolt lifted a brow.
Lady Annabelle’s eyes were wide. “Are these boxes all filled with silver?”
“If so,” Courtney said, “Blackham just became the richest pirate on the seven seas.”
Wilkes glanced at Courtney and frowned.
Blackham was directing a pair of men as they forced iron pry bars beneath the lid of one of the chests.
A faint metallic smell emerged as the lid was lifted.
Once it was removed, Blackham reached inside and lifted out a handful of coins.
Though they were dull with tarnish, there was no mistaking them for anything other than silver.
Wilkes pushed his hand into the crate as well, swirling around his hand in the silver. He lifted a handful of coins, letting them fall back with a tinkling sound.
The pirates cheered. Some laughed, and others broke into dance.
In truth, Hawke was tempted to cheer himself. The discovery of such a fortune was exhilarating.
“What are you waiting for, you scurvy dogs?” Wilkes yelled. “Haul this booty to the beach.”
A few of the men moved toward the stacks, but most remained where they were.
“Heave to,” Blackham called out.
Now the men hurried to follow his direction. Some climbed up the stacks and lowered the crates down on ropes. Others set lit torches into brackets mounted onto the walls. Within moments, the cavern was full of flickering firelight.
Falco greased the door’s hinges, easing it back and forth with a creaking noise until it swung fully open, giving the men sufficient room to move the treasure through.
Each chest required two strong men to carry it, so the pirates worked in pairs, heaving them through the doorway and out through the tunnel.
It would be a miserable night for the crew, hauling the heavy treasure all the way to the beach and then returning to do it again. Although, Hawke supposed, it would be worth the drudgery for their share of the prize money.
Hawke took Lady Annabelle’s hand and motioned to the others to follow him back through the door, hoping they would be forgotten in the confusion.
Falco stopped them before they had even taken two steps. He grinned, looking self-satisfied, as if he’d just foiled a sophisticated escape plot. “Over there.” He motioned with his sword toward a space against the cavern wall where they would be out of the way of the men hauling the treasure.
He directed them to sit.
The five obeyed, leaning back against the wall.
As was his habit, Hawke assessed his surroundings.
Unlike most of the cave system, this cavern was higher than the waterfall entrance, and thus dry.
Likely the reason the Spanish had used it to store their treasure in the first place.
And undoubtedly the reason the wood of the chests had retained its integrity.
In short, the location was ideal for hiding and preserving a treasure, but not for escape.
Iron rings had been driven into some of the walls. Hawke looked up and saw the remains of what had once been a pulley system hanging from the cavern ceiling. The device would have enabled three men to lift and stack the heavy chests. Interesting, but not helpful.
Beside him, Grieg shifted, scooting on the ground and muttering about his wet trousers chafing.
Lady Annabelle was fussing over Courtney’s raw wrists.
On Hawke’s other side, Shadbolt sat silently, alert, watching the operation.
“Wilkes’s displeasure with Blackham is increasing,” he said.
Hawke nodded.
“What assets do we have?” Shadbolt asked.
“A dirk in my boot,” Hawke said. “And I imagine you’ve some weapons they didn’t find as well.”
Shadbolt nodded, his gaze never leaving their captors.
Hawke considered. “If we should manage to escape this room, we could conceal ourselves easily in the caverns.”
“We would have no source of light,” Shadbolt said. “These caves would be deadly in the dark. And we would leave the rest of the crew in the hands of Blackham’s men.”
Hawke blew out a frustrated breath through his nose. Shadbolt was, as usual, correct. “Undermining the leaders may be our best option,” he said.
The stone floor became more and more uncomfortable as the hours went on. Hawke moved into a squat, giving his backside a rest, and then, once his knees began to burn, returned to sitting.
The others shifted similarly, seeming to be equally miserable on the stone floor, especially after the long hike. Lady Annabelle slept against Courtney’s shoulder. Hawke was glad she at least had a respite from their plight.
As men moved back and forth, laboring and sweating, the air in the cavern began to stink.
Hawke started to recognize the different teams of men transporting the chests.
Some pairs returned quickly, and he decided they were moving the chests part of the way and leaving them for another team.
And why not leave a chest filled with thousands of pounds worth of silver sitting in the jungle?
There was no one on the island to steal it.
He studied the men, looking for signs of illness. A few were pale, and one man in particular stopped often, needing the rest.
As the stacks grew lower, Wilkes appeared to become bored. He ridiculed some of the men, played with the open chest of coins, and eventually made his way to the prisoners.
Exactly the opportunity Hawke had been waiting for.
“Seems my luck’s improved since taking command of The Cormorant, wouldn’t you say, Hawke?” He sucked at his teeth, looking very pleased with himself.
“It appears so,” Hawke said. “You were wise to join Blackham’s fleet. He appears to be a very competent leader.”
“And for him to discover de Silva’s treasure . . .” Shadbolt said. He shook his head, looking impressed. “How advantageous for you.”
Wilkes’s face drew into a furious scowl that made Hawke tense.
Perhaps they had pushed too hard and his temper would turn violent.
“I am not in his fleet, and he is not the leader,” he said.
“We are equal partners. This was all my plan. I found the first key and spent years searching for the others. It is advantageous for Blackham to align with me.”
“Ah, I see,” Hawke said apologetically. “My mistake.”
“Captain Wilkes,” Blackham called from across the cavern. “The door seems to be drifting closed. Find something to prop it open.”
Wilkes scowled again.
Hawke pretended to whisper to Shadbolt.
The first mate glanced at Wilkes, then away quickly.
Wilkes stormed off.
“I didn’t realize you were such a gifted actor,” Hawke said. “When I return to London, I will recommend you to Lord Chamberlain’s Men at the Globe.”
Shadbolt snorted.
More hours passed, and Hawke thought the time must be near to dawn. Lady Annabelle had woken, and she stood, stretching her neck and shoulders as the final chest was removed.
Only Falco remained, and he was at the far side of the cavern retrieving all the pieces of rope the men had left.
Hawke pulled the dirk from his boot and jumped to his feet. “Lady Annabelle,” he called to her in a loud whisper.
She started toward him.
But just then, Wilkes and Blackham returned, thwarting any plans of escape. But perhaps Lady Annabelle could still slip away.
Falco pushed Hawke back down, taking his weapon.
“I’ve waited years for this,” Blackham said. “Since you seized The Reina Sofía out from beneath me. I’ve imagined seeing you in precisely this position. Fantasized about it.”
“You have held this grudge for over ten years?” Courtney scoffed. “In all that time, I have not spared one thought for you.”
Blackham shrugged. “I’ll admit to being quite spiteful.
Revenge is excellent motivation, you know.
And one should always be striving toward one’s goals.
” He glanced to the man standing beside him.
“Throughout all of our years of planning, the two of us dreamed not only of becoming rich as Croesus but of doing it in front of people who have wronged us. Truly, whatever is the point of winning if a man does not get to flaunt it in his enemies’ faces, I ask you?
“Now,” Blackham said, tapping his finger on his chin, “what to do with you . . .”
“You have your treasure, so release us,” Lady Annabelle said. She stood between the men and their captives, fists on her hips. “We are not a threat to you.”
Hawke tried to catch her attention, wanting to her to run. He strained against his bonds.
“Let’s slash them to ribbons.” Wilkes bared his teeth. “Let their blood soak into the stones and leave their bones to crumble into dust.”
Lady Annabelle stumbled back. Her face had gone white. She shrank down between Grieg and Hawke. They held her trembling hands.
“Oh my,” Blackham said. He pressed a palm to his breastbone, looking shocked. “That is bloodthirsty, indeed. And you are frightening the lady.” Blackham sighed. “Captain Wilkes, I’m afraid your plan is . . . unimaginative.”
He offered his hand to help Lady Annabelle rise, but she did not take it.
Blackham’s eyes went dark, like a candle extinguished. He sneered, his gaze focused and predatory.
“There will be no bloodshed,” he said. “It is far too boring and over so quickly. I hardly have time to enjoy it, and they don’t really suffer, do they?” His voice had lowered, and his face showed no expression. Hawke was looking at pure evil.
Wilkes appeared as if he’d argue, but even he hesitated when he looked at Blackham. He set his jaw, glaring instead.
Lady Annabelle pulled back even further against the cavern wall, and a frightened squeak escaped her mouth.
Grieg was muttering something that sounded like a prayer.
Blackham licked his lips. “Since I cannot witness your slow demise firsthand, I shall have to make do. If I imagine you entombed, screaming until your throats are raw, clawing at your bonds, weeping in despair, and if tomorrow I think of you aching with thirst, and soon after, suffering from headaches and fatigue . . .” He inhaled, smiling as if this was all so delightful.
“And if, a few days later, I know you are confused, possibly going mad, until you eventually succumb to your hunger, your thirst, and your insanity, then I can savor the experience so much longer.” He looked at Wilkes.
“Does that satisfy your hunger for revenge as well, Captain?”
Wilkes gave Hawke a cruel smile, his dark eyes gleaming. “That’ll do just fine, Captain.”
Without warning, Hawke moved fast, surging to his feet and darting toward Blackham.
Lady Annabelle screamed.
Falco tackled Hawke to the ground. Hawke strained as he tried to push the man off but couldn’t move him. Falco must outweigh him by eight stone.
Both Wilkes and Blackham brandished their swords, preventing any of the others from attempting to escape.
Falco shoved Hawke back against the wall, pushing him hard to the ground, then yanked Hawke’s arms up.
He tied Hawke’s bound hands to a ring in the wall above his head.
He quickly did the same to the other prisoners until their hands hung at shoulder height, then he bound their feet together as well.
Lady Annabelle pulled on Falco’s arm as he worked, begging him to stop, but he didn’t even spare her a glance. Smirking at Hawke, he tossed the dirk to the ground, just out of the prisoners’ reach.
Shadbolt strained against his bonds, and Grieg cursed. Courtney’s worried gaze remained on Lady Annabelle.
“It seems unnecessary, I know,” Blackham said in his conversational tone. “But I prefer knowing exactly where you will be as you take your last breaths. I like my fantasies to be as accurate as possible.”
“Stop,” Lady Annabelle cried. She stood before Blackham. Her face was wet with tears. “You mustn’t do this.”
Blackham put his hand over his mouth, looking entirely apologetic.
He sheathed his sword. “Of course we have no intention of leaving you here, my lady. Not when Mr. Falco and I have taken such a liking to you.” He snatched Lady Anna-belle’s arm, pulling her against him.
“And not when these men will spend their last days imagining the very worst befalling you.”
At this, a rush of energy shot through Hawke, and he fought against his bonds.
She screamed, kicking and thrashing in his grip. “Unhand me!”
“Belle!” Grieg choked.
“Release her!” Courtney yelled.
“Leave the torches,” Blackham said, struggling to hold Lady Annabelle. “Give them a few hours to see their fate clearly before darkness takes them.”
Lady Annabelle pulled and fought as Blackham followed the other men to the door.
The prisoners yelled curses at their captors, but they were entirely helpless.
Hawke’s blood pulsed against his bonds as he fought to pull himself free. He cursed the blade that was so near, yet entirely useless.
Lady Annabelle suddenly kicked Blackham’s shin and bit down on his hand. He swore as she twisted from his grip.
He managed to grab her again, wrapping both arms around her and lifting her through the door.
The door creaked as Falco pulled it slowly closed, but just before it closed entirely, both Lady Annabelle and Blackham were shoved back inside with such force that they crashed to the ground.
The heavy door slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place, leaving the cavern as silent as a tomb.