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“That doesn’t make sense.”
“You will have to learn that too”, Avery stated sadly. “Lots of men lost their lives trying desperately to amass wealth. That’s a disease which can’t be healed.”
Johnny nodded in agreement. He understood what he meant, even if he had never had anything to do with money. When his father was running the trade company, he was too young to understand its value. Now the few coins he was able to spare looked like a treasure themselves.
“They are going to start”, the old man stated. “That is the hangman.”
A bully had turned out from one of the huts, followed by a young man who was slinging a drum over his shoulder. He greeted the governor and his guest nodding slightly. He then climbed the stairs with some trouble.
A whisper went through the spectators, like a growing wave. The drum started rolling and three soldiers came out of a second building. The last one was escorting a worn-out man, dressed in rags. He had a bad limp, his hands were tied behind his back, his oily hair was covering his face. Most of his body was marked by deep wounds and some of them were bleeding.
The crowd started laughing and making a din and someone threw vegetables at him. A man even threw a stone, which hit the prisoner’s forehead. He staggered and almost fell down, then he recovered his balance and lifted his face towards the crowd.
“Walk on!”, a guard shouted at him.
“Bastard!”, the crowd echoed him.
The prisoner was escorted under the gallows at a slow and limping pace, then he was forced to stop. The young man stopped rolling his drum. One of the soldiers stood at attention, unrolled a parchment and started reading. “For His Majesty’s and the Jamaican governor, sir Henry Morgan’s will, the present Emanuel Wynne has been sentenced to death by hanging. He is accused of murder, thief, kidnapping and piracy.”
The last word made the spectators turn into a wild frenzy, so that Johnny even started fearing for his own life. He realized that those people were in a fit of fury he had never witnessed before. They were all shouting, with no difference in sex and age. Many of them were even rushing to the stairs, to lynch the pirate by themselves. The soldiers were forced to take their weapons out and push the rioters back.
That’s what Avery meant, he thought. They want to see him dead. All at once. They don’t care about anything else.
“How do you claim yourself?”, the soldier asked, turning to Wynne. That was an ordinary question, simple and expected, and the answer wasn’t going to change things.
The pirate didn’t answer.
“May God have mercy of your soul”, the man finished. He sheathed the parchment and cast a glance at the governor, who answered by waving his hand lazily.
Wynne was forced to walk up without wasting any more time. When he was half way, his legs turned shaky and he almost slipped backwards. The audience shouted in protest. One of the soldiers grasped him and forced him to go on.
“His fate is settled”, Johnny considered sadly. “Why are they so pitiless against him?”
He waited for Avery to speak, taking his involvement for granted. As he got no answer, he turned to look at him.
He was puzzled by what he could see.
The old man eyes were so bright that they were almost reflecting the sunlight. He was holding back his tears just because he didn’t want to show himself in that condition.
Meanwhile, Wynne had got to his destination and had been left in the hangman’s hands. Dozens after dozens of voices were croaking their scorn once more, followed by a more powerful rolling of drums. Kane placed the prisoner on the trapdoor carefully and tightened the slipknot around his neck. Everything was still, even the air. Also the far-away washing of the waves had calmed down.
The French man took all the spectators by surprise at that moment. He burst out laughing loudly, overcoming the noise of the drum and of the crowd below. It was as if a cannon had fired not far from there.
“That’s how they are repaying me for having told them where the greatest treasure the world has ever seen is hidden!”, he shouted.
An icy silence fell over Fort Charles. There wasn’t any sign left of the folly which had spurred the pirate’s brain. Even Morgan looked shocked about that, his mouth wide-open with an idiot look.
“Governor”, Wynne addressed him, “where have you put the map I drew up to get to the Devil’s Triangle?”
An excited yelling started spreading through the crowd. Just like many other people, Johnny turned to look at Morgan: under the white paleness of his make-up, he could notice a slight blush of uneasiness and anger appearing on his face. He then glanced back at Avery. Before his eyes met the old man’s ones, he noticed someone else’s shape, not far from where they were standing.
He was the pirate with golden teeth.
The boy staggered, as if someone had punched him in his stomach. The man was focused on listening to Wynne’s words. For just a moment, Johnny was sure he even saw him smile lightly.
“Why has he come?”, he mumbled. He got absolutely sure and was able to dispel all his doubts: that man was making him feel breathlessly scared.
“What did you say?”, Avery asked him.
“Over there…” Those words died in his throat. The guy had vanished. Johnny looked frantically for him, searching carefully the sea of heads surrounding him. He couldn’t find him anywhere.
Meanwhile Wynne kept shouting: “If my fate is going to hell, better to hurry up!”
Morgan seemed to wake up from his indolence. He started shouting orders, but nobody was able to do much. Wynne had finished by bursting out laughing even more powerfully for the second time, increasing the spreading mess which had got hold of the fortress.
“Kane!”, he screamed. “The trapdoor! Open that damned trapdoor, silly idiot! What are you waiting for?”
The hangman grasped the machine lever and pulled it. A series of sounds followed each other very quickly. Wynne then hurtled down, keeping kicking and swinging in mid-air. In spite of the violent rebound, his neck hadn’t broken. Not only that. Even if he was choking, he didn’t stop laughing his heart out. His face started turning purple and his tongue came out of his mouth. He bit it till he tore it apart. A gush of blood stained his lips and cheeks, just like the petals of a blossoming rose.
“Let someone stop him!”, Morgan shouted, joining the frenzy of the people watching that havoc.
Only the man next to him was ready to act.
He climbed to the gallows and drew his sword out. Once he got to the platform, he slipped out of Kane’s grip who had tried instinctively to stop him, surprised in seeing him there. He hacked the rope with a clear cut and the French man crashed to the pavement at last. The impact let out an unpleasant noise, coming from broken bones. He rolled on himself twice, letting agonizing sounds out, then his body turned suddenly still.
Johnny watched all that with his heart in his mouth. Wynne’s image got impressed into his retina like a fire mark. He couldn’t avoid it anymore. He could distinguish each detail: from the pirate’s unnatural position, his broken legs and his bent trunk, to his livid face, stained by the blood he had thrown out. The disgust of the execution had shown in all its horror.
“Let’s go, Johnny.” Bennet Avery was recalling him to order. “I’ve heard what I wanted to. What’s more, I don’t like all that mess.”
The boy nodded, still more shocked: the old man had seldom addressed him by his name. Besides, he had been aware of something vaguely mysterious in his attitude, a rather sinister feeling.
His fancy overwhelmed him like a river in flood, so much that it was able to wipe his perplexity away: Avery knew much more then he implied and the moment to find it out had come.
CHAPTER THREE
DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES
“Bloody hell!”
Flaring up in uncontrollable fury, Morgan overthrew all the objects crowding on his desk, included the nautical maps, an excellent workmanship sextant and the letter of marque addressed to Rogers.
“Filthy beggar!”, he barked. “He deserved a much worse suffering!”
The corsair was sitting in front of him on a damask sofa, showing a certain amount of indifference.
“With all due respect…”, he tried to speak.
“Shut up!”, the governor interrupted him.
A very long and deep silence followed, marked only by the man’s panting breathing. Rogers preferred not to reply. It would be better to wait till he calmed down, to pursue his own interests.
Wynne’s revelations had helped to undermine Morgan’s already bad reputation among the colonizers. His political career and his high-ranking connections had been quite useless. And the fact that they paid a deferential respect to him just hid an etiquette made of hypocrisy and respectability. As if that wasn’t enough, the rumour about the treasure was certainly spreading around Port Royal. It wasn’t going to take long to get to impudent ears.
When King George gets to know you’re financing pirate expeditions for your own business, you will get into serious trouble, Rogers thought. His feigned indifference wasn’t certainly due to a lack of interest. The question was very serious, but he could take advantage of it anyway.
“How can you keep impassive?”, Morgan asked him tightening his fists till his knuckles turned white.
He got up, without answering. He wanted to weigh up carefully the words he should utter, in order to avoid making Morgan rage still more and, at the same time, to let him understand that guys like that should be handled by the right firmness. He started walking up and down the room.
“With all due respect”, he said again, “I think that reacting in this way is really useless. Wynne has already pilloried your business.”
“And do you think that’s an unimportant matter?”
“I absolutely do.”
“He mocked us all!”, Morgan barked.
“That’s not true”, Rogers showed an histrionic, but also affected scorn. “He had fun outsmarting only you, your Excellency. So, shouting at a dead man won’t solve the question. Did you believe you had the matter under control? You were wrong!”
The governor blushed deeply, his mouth turning into a very thin line. His melted make-up made him look much more grotesque than usual. His eyes seemed to pop out of his head.
When he saw him like that, Rogers could hardly hold back a very satisfied smile.
“Unless you are ready to make a choice”, he suggested. “I mean…” and he willingly stopped talking. He pretended to be wondering, pressing his forefinger on his lips. He wanted his gesture to look like something which was helping him to think over in some way. In fact, he started supposing: You’ve lost control of the situation, Henry. You must acknowledge it. That pirate really played a bad trick on you. He might have been really crazy. Or not. Who can say?
“Come on!”, Morgan urged him exacerbated. He started rubbing his temples.
“I can bring our departure a couple of days forward”, Rogers started. “That could help us spare time, even if that would mean a change in our agreement. The crew won’t almost certainly take it very well.”
“If money is the problem…”, the governor ventured.
“The question concerns the treasure.” The corsair picked up a letter of marque from the floor and waved it before his eyes, then he slipped it into his pocket.
“Everything you want!” Morgan knocked his hands on the desk. “We must get there before anyone else. Getting quickly started could save us from the humiliation and make us avoid troubles with His Majesty.”
“He won’t get to know it. Even if the news should get to the Court, there are no real proofs. What’s more, the Devil’s Triangle has always been considered as a legend.”
“You’re right about it.”
“And even if rumours should spread out about you paying a pirate crew, what could you be accused of for an engagement like that? The last member of Bellamy’s crew died a few hours ago.”
“So what?”
“The price we have agreed on is the right one.” Roger’s statement wanted to get the double aim of making his interlocutor calm down and focusing his attention on what he was going to say. “But I’ll demand eight parts out of one hundred, to ensure my loyalty and my men’s one.”
“You are crazy!”, Morgan burst out, looking as if he was going to faint.
“My mind hasn’t been more sane in all my life!"
“This is a theft!”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Let’s say four parts”, the governor proposed.
“You’re a mean man, Excellency.” The corsair shrugged. “You’re hurting my pride, when you consider me just four parts worth. Remember this: if the expedition is successful, you won’t even be forced to share the booty with the King.”
“Five parts, captain. And we’ll stop talking about it.”
“With just five parts, I can’t grant you that nobody will go around and tell this story.”
“So, let’s agree on six.”
“Seven!”
Morgan kept still, his elbows laying on the table and his fingers crossed before himself. “Okay”, he finally agreed. “Seven.”
“You are a wise man.” Rogers reached out his hand and waited for the other man to return his gesture, even if unwillingly. When Morgan did it, he held his hand tight, placing it on his own. “With your leave, I wish to advance one more request.”
“Another one?”
“After all these years spent serving the Crown, I think I deserve something more than a simple letter of marque. For that reason, I’d like to be rewarded by the allocation of some lands and by a title recognized by His Majesty.”
“Do you mean a political rise?”
“Exactly!”
“Independently of the expedition being profitable?”
Rogers nodded.
“As you wish”, Morgan finished, looking worn-out. “We’ll try to intercede for you at the Court.”
“Thank you.” The corsair let his hand go and walked away from the desk quickly. Before getting out, he stopped for some moments next to the door. “Each promise in an obligation. Always remember it, Excellency.”
And with those words, he disappeared.
***
Anne was sitting on the bed, her back leaning against the wall and her eyes staring at the window. She was holding a bowl of soup in her hands. Her hair was waving in the breeze preceding sunset, ruffled around her head. It didn’t look like a putrescent giant octopus anymore. On the contrary, it looked more like a haystack swept by the wind. Her face, even if still pale, was recovering a slight blush. The shadow of disease had vanished, at that moment at least.
“How are you?”, Johnny asked her as soon as he came back. He had been anxious all day long, excepted during Wynne’s execution. Watching that man die had filled him with a horror which had pushed back for a while his worries about his mother’s health.
“Tired”, she answered in a feeble voice. “Bartolomeu has been taking care of me while you were away. He was very kind. He made dinner for me. Look!” As if she wanted to prove something, she took the dipper hardly to her mouth.
“Let me do it”. The boy sat next to her and started to feed her. The smell of soup made his stomach rumble.
“Have you had dinner?”, Anne asked him.
