"Why should we not?" I cry out. "You will kill us, anyway! I'd rather we all died together, for that is our way!"
"Very brave," shouts El Feo. "But it does not have to be that way. You see, we know that you have gold. And if you tell us where it is, we will let you go on your way."
I don't believe that for a second, but I try to play for time. The ships are now alongside. "I have no gold. It all went with the English ship."
El Feo grins, and it is not a pretty sight. "English, eh? Well, we have here an Englishman who thinks differently." As he gestures behind him, a man steps up, a man in a loose white shirt, black pants and boots, smoking a long cheroot.
"Hello, Faber. So good to see you again."
Who? What?
Flashby? Oh no!
I collect myself and say, "How did you get here, Flashby? You were supposed to be in Kingston, with the decent men." This I say in English.
"The decent men? You mean those fools who cannot see right through you as I can? Well, it was a simple matter of taking a swift boat to Santiago de Cuba, then overland on horseback to meet with my Hispanic friends, and here I am."
"What makes you think you can trust this scum?"
"My dear, I have been working with this scum for years—sending poor, unsuspecting merchant ships their way when it suited me, in return for their help when I needed it. You will recall that I was operating in this area well before you got here."
When I say nothing to this, he goes on.
"Actually, I have found it much easier to work with the ugly one here. Captain Jimenez had much too many scruples for a true pirate."
I look over at Flaco. Though his head hangs, he is conscious of what is going on. And if looks could kill, El Feo would be a dead man, ten times over. Flashby, too.
"Speak Spanish, damn you both!" orders El Feo.
"As you wish, Señor," replies Flashby, in perfect Spanish. He turns to me. "The ships will be brought together and made fast. Your men will surrender their weapons, then they'll go below to your forward hatch, where they'll be made fast. Then we shall talk further about the gold."
"What gold?" I say, chin up, sticking to my story. "All the gold went on the Dolphin. You were there, you saw, you know what went on."
"I know you for a piece of filthy gutter trash, but I do not underestimate your cleverness and low cunning. The idea that you would be picking up all that treasure from the bottom of the sea and not squirreling away something for yourself is beyond belief. It doesn't fit your profile, as we say in the intelligence business." Flashy continues, smiling broadly, "Isn't it grand how the shoe is now on the other foot, as it were, Miss Faber?"
The ships come together and grappling hooks hold them tightly beam to beam. El Feo's men leap over to herd my sailors at musket point toward the hatch. "You, too, Mr. Higgins," says Flashby, waving his own pistol about, grinning and plainly enjoying this.
Jemimah appears at my side. She has seen the desperation in my eyes and she grabs my arm and hisses in my ear, "What would Brother Rabbit do if he was in this mess, girl?" She bores her gaze into my eyes and then she hurries down below. I guess the pirates don't much care what an old black woman does, 'cause they don't stop her. I do not blame her for going to hide, for this is not her fight.
El Feo jumps onto my deck, dragging Joannie with him. There is a large bruise around her left eye.
"You said you would not hurt her, bastardo," I hiss.
"She bit me," says El Feo. "It is something she will not do again." He jabs the pistol into the side of her neck. "Lower your sails. Now!"
Joannie's face betrays no emotion. Her eyes are hooded, and she has taken on a look I know well. It is the mask of the street kid who has been nabbed by the coppers—don't ever give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry, no matter how you feel inside.
I nod to Thomas and McGee. They loosen the buntlines and my sails fall to the deck. Flashby comes up next to me and blows a puff of rancid smoke in my face. "This is going to be such fun." He chuckles. He puts his hand on my tail and squeezes. "Such fun." I cannot repress a shudder of disgust.
Oh Lord, this does not look good.
"Now, as for the treasure, you will now—Yeeow! Mierda!" squeals El Feo, suddenly under attack from above.
"Let her go, goddammit! Run, Joannie! Run!"
Like a small hawk sweeping out of the sky onto its unsuspecting prey, Daniel Prescott has leaped from the crow's-nest to land squarely on top of El Feo, and he's flailing away at him with a stout marlinspike.
"Take that, you ugly bastard! Let her go!"
El Feo roars and raises his pistol and...
No! Don't shoot him! Oh Lord, no!
...and brings it down hard on the side of Danny's head. The boy crumples to the deck, blood coursing down his cheek, and he says no more.
Joannie, momentarily freed, runs not for freedom, but to Danny's side. Her hands are still tied behind her and so she can do nothing but lean over and put her lips on his brow. I know she thinks us all doomed, so that kiss will be her last free gesture. Flashby leans down and grabs her by the neck and jerks her to her feet. So much for grace in the face of horror.
"I will take your men out, one by one, put them on their knees and cut their throats right in front of you," snarls El Feo, his foul breath hot on my face. "How would you like that, eh?"
Lord, even if I tell him, he's still gonna kill us all! "And suppose we start with this one!" He points to Joannie. "Put her on her knees."
No!
El Feo's thugs use their spears and swords to push back my men. Then they take Joannie and force her to her knees before him. He grabs her hair, pulls back her head, and puts his knife to her defenseless neck.
"Are you ready to watch, puta?" Feo grins, about to draw the blade across.
All is lost ... No, wait ... Think, girl! What was it that Jemimah said...? Come on, girl—do what the rabbit would do! And I go deep in my mind and ... Yes ... Maybe it ain't over yet.
"Stop! Let her go. I'll tell you," I say, hanging my head in seeming defeat.
"That is much better," says the brute, flinging Joannie aside. "So show me. No tricks now, or the blood from her throat will spill over your feet."
I take a deep breath and then say, "It is not here. You know that. Both El Diablo Rojo and the San Cristobal have searched my poor little ship and found nothing. No, they did not. Because the treasure is buried ... buried on Cayo Hueso ... right over there."
El Feo's gaze follows my point.
"Where over there?"
"You see that red cloth?"
"sir
"There is a flat area behind the trees and then there is a lagoon. The gold is buried on the other side of it. I shall have to draw you a map. I ... I have paper in my cabin."
"Good." He grabs me by the arm and flings me toward my cabin, and we all go in—El Feo, Flashby, Joannie, and I.
"So make the map, muchacha, and let's get on with this." He pushes Joannie onto my bed and forces me into my chair behind my desk. I open it and pull out a piece of paper. My pen and ink sit up top, ready for use. I take up the pen.
There is a knock on the door, and one of El Feo's men sticks his head in.
"All of them are down below," he reports. "We have a guard on the hatch. They cannot get out."
"Good. Now put down the lifeboats and be ready," growls El Feo. "We are busy here."
I dip my pen in the inkwell and begin to draw. Both El Feo and Flashby stand over me and watch.
"Behind the red cloth you will find an opening in the mangroves. Pull in there. Then you will see an open area and the remains of an old Indian camp. Beyond that will be a large shallow lagoon. Right here."
I draw in the various shapes, the scratching of my pen loud in the silence.
"You must walk all the way around this lagoon to the other side, for the gold is buried right here." I make a big X on the page. "We marked the spot with many long pieces of driftwood laid one across the other. You cannot miss it, and you will need many strong men to remove the logs. They are quite heavy."
El Feo nods and barks out, "Hombres! To me!"
His men pop their heads back in the doorway.
"Leave two men to guard here, and four men on El Diablo. Everyone else in the lifeboats. Get shovels."
"Sí, Capitán." They leave. El Feo stands over me.
"There are captives in the hold of El Diablo as well," he says, laughing. "Ten of Flaco's loyal men. We shall have fun hanging them, one by one, when all this is done. Including Flaco. He shall be last. And then maybe you ... and her." He hooks his thumb at Joannie.
"You are an ugly man, Feo. Inside and out. You shall surely rot in Hell." I could not help saying it.
"Ha!" He laughs. "You think I care that you find me ugly? No, I do not. In fact, I like being ugly." He puts his hand in my hair and pulls my head back. "I like—no, I love—the look on the señoritas' faces when I take them. I love the disgust, I love the revulsion, I love to hear them cry."
Feo's men are soon back.
"All is ready, Comandante."
"Good. Let's go ... no ... wait." He looks at my bed, then he looks at me. A grin splits his ugly face. "No ... I shall stay here. I have ... business with this one. You, inglés, you will go with my men to collect the treasure. I shall stay here and collect treasure of another kind."
Flash by goes to the door. "Very well, Capitán, I shall do that. But, if you would, save a little bit for me. Either one of them will do." He looks from me to Joannie. "Don't look so downhearted, girls. After all, it is just the fortunes of war. Cheerio, all. I do hope you'll enjoy this, Jacky, I really do."
The door closes and I hear sounds of boats shoving off outside. Then silence, except for El Feo's heavy breathing.
El Feo begins to unbutton his shirt. "Get on the bed, girl."
I look to the door.
"You think to run, eh? Well, there is no place to run to. Besides, if you fight, I will do her first. Do you want that? Ah, I thought not." Joannie, wide-eyed, struggles against her bonds on the bed but to no avail. Meekly, I rise and go to the bed. El Feo whips off his filthy shirt and flings it away, being careful to replace his feathered headdress. His massive chest is covered with whorls of thick, black hair, and I can smell his stench from where I sit.
There is a knock on the door.
"What?" he asks, irritated.
Two of El Feo's men enter. "Ask her, Captain, where is the rum. We are thirsty."
He looks to me.
"I do not allow spirits aboard my ship," I say, primly, and let my eyes go furtively to my medicine cabinet. The gullible fools do not miss that look.
They laugh and triumphantly go to the chest and pull out my bottles of tincture of opium and leave. Drink deep, scum.
El Feo doesn't say anything. Instead he turns around and catches me across the face with the back of his hand. I fall back onto the bed.
I must bide for time, I must...
"Cry, puta. I will like it very much when you cry."
I know what is coming, so I sit up and put on the Lawson Peabody Look—eyes hooded, chin up, lips together, teeth apart. It helps some, but those lips do tremble and those eyes do well up with tears.