Pirate Latitudes

These formalities were known to everyone aboard. First, Hunter called for a vote on himself as captain of the vessel; a chorus of ayes greeted him. Then he stated the rules of the voyage - no drink, nor fornication, and no looting without his order; a penalty of death for breaking the rules. These were the usual rules, and the aye vote was perfunctory.

Next, he explained the division of the booty. Hunter, as captain, would take thirteen shares. Sanson would have seven - there was some grumbling at this figure - and Mr. Enders would have one and a half shares. Lazue would take one and a quarter. Black Eye would take one and a quarter. The rest would be equally distributed among the crew.

One crewmember stood. “Captain, are you taking us to Matanceros? It is dangerous.”

“Indeed it is,” Hunter said, “but the booty is great. There will be plenty for every man. Any man who sees the danger as over-much will be put ashore here, in this bay, and none the worse in my estimation. But he must go before I tell you the treasure that is there.”

He waited. No one moved or spoke.

“All right,” Hunter said. “Matanceros harbor holds a Donnish treasure nao. We are going to take her.” At this there was an enormous uproar among the crew. It was several minutes before Hunter could get them silent again. And when they looked back at him, he saw the glint in their eyes, fed by visions of gold. “Are you with me?” Hunter shouted. They responded with a shout.

“Then, on to Matanceros.”

Part II The Black Ship

Chapter 14

SEEN FROM A distance, the Cassandra presented a pretty spectacle. Her sails were taut in the morning breeze; she was heeled over a few degrees, and cut a swift, hissing path through the clear blue water.

On board the ship, however, it was cramped and uncomfortable. Sixty fighting men, grizzled and smelly, jostled for space to sit, game, or sleep in the sun. They relieved themselves over the side, without ceremony, and their captain was often presented with the spectacle of a half-dozen bare buttocks leaning over the leeward gunwale.

No food was parceled out, and no water. None was given for the first day at all, and the crew, expecting this, had eaten and drunk their fill on their last night in the port.

Nor did Hunter anchor that evening. It was customary for the privateers to put into some protected cove, to allow the crew to sleep ashore. But Hunter sailed straight through the first night. He had two reasons for haste. First, he feared spies who might make for Matanceros to warn the garrison there. And second, he did not wish to allow extra time, since the treasure nao might depart the harbor of Matanceros at any time.

At the end of the second day, they were beating northeast, through the dangerous passage between Hispañola and Cuba. His crew knew this region well, for they were within a day’s sail of Tortuga, long a pirate stronghold.

He continued into the third day, and then landed for the night, to rest his weary crew. The following day, he knew, would begin the long ocean run past Inagua, and then to Matanceros itself. There would be no safe landing in the future. Once they crossed Latitude 20, they were in dangerous Spanish waters.

His crew was in good spirits, laughing and joking around the campfires. During the past three days, only one man had been seized by visions of the crawling devils, which sometimes accompanied the absence of rum; that man was now calmer, no longer trembling and shaking.

Satisfied, Hunter stared into the fire before him. Sanson came over, and sat next to him.

“What are your thoughts?”

“None special.”

“Do you brood on Cazalla?”

“No.” Hunter shook his head.

“I know that he killed your brother,” Sanson said.

“He caused him to be killed, yes.”

“And this does not anger you?”

Hunter sighed. “Not anymore.”

Sanson stared at him in the flickering firelight. “What was the manner of his dying?”

“It is not important,” Hunter said evenly.

Sanson sat quietly for some moments. “I have heard,” he said, “that your brother was captured on a merchant ship by Cazalla. I have heard that Cazalla strung him up by his arms, cut off his testicles and stuffed them into his mouth until he choked and died.”

Hunter did not answer for some time. “That is the story,” he said finally.

“And do you believe it?”

“Yes.”

Sanson scanned his face. “The crafty English. Where is your anger, Hunter?”

“I have it,” Hunter said.

Sanson nodded. He stood. “When you find Cazalla, kill him quickly. Do not let this hatred cloud your brain.”

“My brain is not clouded.”

“No. I see it is not.”

Sanson left. Hunter remained staring into the fire for a long time.

…

IN THE MORNING, they entered the dangerous Windward Passage, between Cuba and Hispañola. Winds were unpredictable, and the water was rough, but the Cassandra made excellent time. Sometime during the night they passed the dark promontory of Le Mole - the westward tip of Hispañola - to starboard. And near dawn, the profile of the land split to reveal Tortuga Island, along the north coast.