Mad Morgan (35 page)
Authors: Kerry Newcomb
Morgan plunged through the drifting shrouds of gunsmoke and dust, ordered his men to loose a volley and hurry before the Spaniards could regroup and form their square. Faces and silhouettes loomed
out of the gray. A lieutenant was desperately exhorting his men to return to their ranks. He whirled about in time to see Morgan bearing down on him. The young officer slashed with his saber. Morgan blocked the attack, kicked his opponent between the legs, and bludgeoned him as he doubled over. Pierre leaped astride two grenadiers and knocked them to the ground. His dagger rose and fell twice in quick succession. The Frenchman scrambled to his feet, his knife blooded, and dashed off to help Kogi who had impaled one dragoon on his pike. Kogi didn't need his help. A breeze stirred the smoke.
out of the gray. A lieutenant was desperately exhorting his men to return to their ranks. He whirled about in time to see Morgan bearing down on him. The young officer slashed with his saber. Morgan blocked the attack, kicked his opponent between the legs, and bludgeoned him as he doubled over. Pierre leaped astride two grenadiers and knocked them to the ground. His dagger rose and fell twice in quick succession. The Frenchman scrambled to his feet, his knife blooded, and dashed off to help Kogi who had impaled one dragoon on his pike. Kogi didn't need his help. A breeze stirred the smoke.
Morgan glanced up and spied the gallows. He started toward the steps. Men in uniform rose to contest his advance. They were no match for his blade, or the cold fury in his iron eyes.
The other nine-pounder got off a single round before its crew was overrun by a host of ax-wielding Kuna rebels. Kintana, one arm blown away by grapeshot, was the first to reach the cannon and with his dying breath shattered the skulls of the first two soldiers he reached. Then, with a loud, anguished moan, the warrior collapsed, his body draping the corpses of his enemies, his blood mingling with theirs.
Morgan fought his way past the cannon, slashing and parrying with his cutlass. A grenadier tried to skewer him with a bayonet. Morgan head-butted his attacker and knocked him senseless. The buccaneers, attacking from all four sides, had closed fast with the troops so the musketeers on the surrounding buildings could not shoot for fear of hitting their own. Before long a few well-placed rounds from the hand mortars cleared the roofs.
Within minutes the Plaza de los Armas had been transformed into a butcher's yard. The discipline of the Spanish troops crumbled before the onslaught of the buccaneers. Pistols and muskets were fired at point-blank range; cutlass and knife, pike and club slaked their fill till the ground ran red from the carnage.
To his horror, Don Alonso saw his command lose heart, panic, and break for the adjoining streets. “No, you cowards! No! You must stand. Stand and fight for your King, for your governor, for your own honor!”
“What do you know of honor?”
Don Alonso recognized the voice. His veins filled with ice. He tried to swallow and nearly choked. Then he slowly reached for his rapier, removed it with thumb and forefinger and allowed the weapon to drop to the gallows floor. “Señor Morgan, I am unarmed.”
“That's too bad,” Morgan replied, climbing the steps to stand
upon the deck, gray smoke swirling about his torn shirt and the wounds that streaked his torso. “It won't stop me from killing you.”
upon the deck, gray smoke swirling about his torn shirt and the wounds that streaked his torso. “It won't stop me from killing you.”
Don Alonso had only one chance, and took it. His hand dropped to the pistol tucked in his belt. He spun and stepped to the side, saw Morgan with a pistol. From below, Nell Jolly emerged from the haze in time to see the two men fire as one. She cried out in alarm.
Don Alonso staggered, stumbled forward, and sank to his knees. “No,” he groaned, clutching at his chest. “I am the governor,” he protested, as if his position protected him from death. “I am
the governor.”
the governor.”
Morgan shrugged. “You're just dead now.” He tripped the latch, the trap door dropped open, and Don Alonso, no longer in the world, disappeared through the center of the floor. He landed with a loud thump on the hard-packed earth below.
Henry Morgan crossed to the steps and halted to survey the carnage.
Well, Father, we are avenged
, he thought. He watched the remnants of the Spanish troops scatter, with many of the buccaneers spurring them on. A breeze sprang up, parting the haze, revealing the deadâmost of them Spanish troops, but enough familiar faces to make the victory a costly one. Dutch Hannah and Six Toes Yaquereño, the Portugee Devil, lay among the dead, and others he recognized and some he hardly knew, but his crew had come through unscathed save for a few flesh wounds. Kogi's black face split with a grin. Voisin looked anxious to head for the warehouses, to see for himself the wealth of the city. Nell was unharmed, but grim-faced. So much death unsettled her. Israel Goodenough made his way forward with his crew of men with their hand mortars. They had proved invaluable. Several minutes passed in the aftermath of the fight. Morgan issued no orders, but allowed himself and his men a moment to gather their strength. There was more to be done.
Well, Father, we are avenged
, he thought. He watched the remnants of the Spanish troops scatter, with many of the buccaneers spurring them on. A breeze sprang up, parting the haze, revealing the deadâmost of them Spanish troops, but enough familiar faces to make the victory a costly one. Dutch Hannah and Six Toes Yaquereño, the Portugee Devil, lay among the dead, and others he recognized and some he hardly knew, but his crew had come through unscathed save for a few flesh wounds. Kogi's black face split with a grin. Voisin looked anxious to head for the warehouses, to see for himself the wealth of the city. Nell was unharmed, but grim-faced. So much death unsettled her. Israel Goodenough made his way forward with his crew of men with their hand mortars. They had proved invaluable. Several minutes passed in the aftermath of the fight. Morgan issued no orders, but allowed himself and his men a moment to gather their strength. There was more to be done.
Calico Jack and Anne Bonney picked their way across the plaza, escorting an old woman Morgan instantly recognized. Jack and his notorious paramour had somehow come across Consuelo, Elena's nurse. Morgan glanced about to see if the noblewoman was with them.
“Now, that was a fight, Captain Morgan,” said Calico Jack. He seemed remarkably unscathed. But Anne Bonney had certainly been in the thick of things, from the look of her. “Worth marching through the swamp for.” He motioned for Anne to bring Consuelo forward. “And look who Annie found.”
“She found me,” Bonney corrected, tying a strip of cloth about a
slash on her forearm. The heavyset woman had been nearly disrobed in the fight; her checkered shirt did little to hide her ample bosom. She motioned for Consuelo to approach Morgan.
slash on her forearm. The heavyset woman had been nearly disrobed in the fight; her checkered shirt did little to hide her ample bosom. She motioned for Consuelo to approach Morgan.
The half-breed's eyes widened at the sight of Don Alonso's lifeless form crumpled beneath the gallows. “I followed the sound of battle. I came to see you, Señor Morgan.”
“Where is your mistress?” Morgan said, his gray eyes searching the woman's face for a any sign of treachery. He read only fear and a sense of resignation. But his request caught Nell's attention.
“The man in black, Captain LeBishop, has taken her. He would have killed her. But she offered to take him to the waterfront, to show him the wealth of her father's house.” Consuelo shook her head. “I am leaving this place. I shall try to find my own people. Tell my mistress I am gone.”
“Me?”
“When you save her, Morgan. You will go to Doña Elena.” Consuelo had said her piece. She inured herself to the sight of all the wounded and dying, and disappeared through the swirling, acrid-smelling haze. “I have seen your heart, Mad Morgan,” she called back to him. “You will go to her.”
The buccaneer shook his headâ
Thomas LeBishop
âand then, unable to meet Nell's stare, Morgan took up his cutlass, leaped from the gallows, landing lithe as a cat, and stalked off toward the waterfront. He knew the way, he'd walked it often enough in chains. Morgan did not look back to see if anyone was following. Because at the moment, he didn't give a damn.
Thomas LeBishop
âand then, unable to meet Nell's stare, Morgan took up his cutlass, leaped from the gallows, landing lithe as a cat, and stalked off toward the waterfront. He knew the way, he'd walked it often enough in chains. Morgan did not look back to see if anyone was following. Because at the moment, he didn't give a damn.
M
organ had never seen the piers and the waterfront so deserted. News of his arrival had sent many of the townspeople scurrying out along the coastline. The sun-dappled blue bay was dotted with all manner of boats: skiffs, johnnyboats, fishing boats, dinghiesâanything that would float. But those who could not make good their escape had retired to their homes, resigned to their fates. Morgan would leave them there. They had nothing he wanted.
organ had never seen the piers and the waterfront so deserted. News of his arrival had sent many of the townspeople scurrying out along the coastline. The sun-dappled blue bay was dotted with all manner of boats: skiffs, johnnyboats, fishing boats, dinghiesâanything that would float. But those who could not make good their escape had retired to their homes, resigned to their fates. Morgan would leave them there. They had nothing he wanted.
El Tigre del Caribe
had come for treasure and a reckoning, and both could be found only here on the waterfront. He could not have one without the other. And what of Elena? Did he really want to see her again. Yes, for the last time. To prove something to himself. And there was the matter of Thomas LeBishop.
had come for treasure and a reckoning, and both could be found only here on the waterfront. He could not have one without the other. And what of Elena? Did he really want to see her again. Yes, for the last time. To prove something to himself. And there was the matter of Thomas LeBishop.
He sucked in a lungful of air, relishing the scent of the cleansing breeze that blew the gray-black haze landward toward the hills but left the waterfront bright with the sweet light of dawn. The fire and noise of battle had disturbed the gulls and sent them farther along the coast away from the storm and the fury that had swept through the city.
He caught sight of the crew of the
Jericho
making their way along a pier after they had secured but one longboat. When they saw Morgan waiting for them, the men balked then came sheepishly forward.
Jericho
making their way along a pier after they had secured but one longboat. When they saw Morgan waiting for them, the men balked then came sheepishly forward.
“The sun will set on only one flag today.
My
flag,” he told them. “You must decide for yourselves ⦠who will you serve.”
My
flag,” he told them. “You must decide for yourselves ⦠who will you serve.”
One of the men indicated a massive wooden building with the name
Saucedo
emblazoned above massive twin doors. “Captain LeBishop may have something to say about that.”
Saucedo
emblazoned above massive twin doors. “Captain LeBishop may have something to say about that.”
“Fair enough,” Morgan replied. He turned and glanced toward Nell, Israel Goodenough, and the rest of his ragtag army. “Wait here with these good men. Kill them if they try to come to their master's aid.”
“He'll need no help from us,” another of the Black Cleric's men called out.
“The seadog speaks the truth,” Nell said, catching Morgan by the arm. “LeBishop is a dangerous man. Don't let your honor lead you to ruin. We can face him together.”
“Stay here, Toto.”
“Nell speaks the truth,
mon ami,”
said Voisin. “Let us deal with him together. It is our right to go with you.”
mon ami,”
said Voisin. “Let us deal with him together. It is our right to go with you.”
“No,” Morgan exclaimed flatly. “It is your right to avenge me.”
Â
Â
Gold. Silks. Pieces of eight. The treasure of kings glittered in the Black Cleric's eyes. He was alone with Elena Maria. But he wouldn't be for long. He'd dispatched his men to find some johnnyboats and bring them around to the pier nearest the warehouse. He intended to take what he could and sail from the port. And no one was going to stop him.
He gazed in awe at the contents of the warehouse. Except for the open center of the building with its tables and bench seats, aisles led off past trunks of gold ore and chests of rough gems that caught the lantern light and twinkled back at him like stars, only blood red and ice blue and sea green, and opal white like dead men's eyes. He was rich. No, not richâa king.
He sensed movement, caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye and sprang to the left. He caught Elena Maria by the arm as she tried to make a break for the entrance. The woman grimaced but would not cry out as he twisted her wrist. The more she struggled, the greater the pain. At last she surrendered, knowing he had the advantage of strength.
“I don't think so, my pretty,” LeBishop purred, dragging her back and forcing her down upon a bed of silk. His scarred features glistened with sweat. Lust was the gleam in his eyes. “Perhaps I shall have a taste of the treasure you denied me in Maracaibo. I don't have your pretty dagger, pity, but I gave it to a man who has no doubt put it to
better use.” He placed her hand between his legs so she could feel his arousal. “See here, lass, I've saved a different dagger for you. My unsheathed flesh, eh? What say you?”
better use.” He placed her hand between his legs so she could feel his arousal. “See here, lass, I've saved a different dagger for you. My unsheathed flesh, eh? What say you?”
“I say that when you load my father's treasure aboard my ship, best you take me with you or you will never sail past the forts,” Elena blurted out, her cheeks flushed. Strands of her unbound black hair clung to the corners of her mouth, slick with sweat. “Allow the garrisons to see me on deck and you will not be fired upon. But I will have to be alive and well. Touch me now and I will resist until death.”
“You are a clever girl,” LeBishop purred. Lust was one thing. Treasure another. The Black Cleric had his priorities. The pirate shoved clear of the woman, rose from his makeshift bed and allowed her a brief moment of freedom. “But my time will come. Now or at sea. Mark you, my time will come.”
“Indeed, LeBishop, well said,” Morgan called out as he shoved open the doors to the warehouse and stood in the entranceway, allowing a bright shaft of sunlight to bathe him in gold. “For your hour is at hand.”
LeBishop shielded his eyes and retreated from the glare. “Morgan ⦠still alive?”
“Henry, thank God!” Elena darted out of the reach of the LeBishop, putting as much distance as possible between LeBishop and herself. Morgan was the man to defend her. She could think of no better ally. The woman quickly made her way to his side.
Morgan tossed the jeweled dagger at the Black Cleric's feet. LeBishop scowled. Tregoning, the clumsy fool, must have bungled the assassination and gotten himself killed. There was no accounting for Morgan's luck. But it would end today.
“Mother always said if you want something done, better do it yourself.”
“You had no mother, only the fen-sucked flotsam that spawned you.”
“Bold talk for a man about to die,” LeBishop said, drawing his cutlass. “We both know I am the better man. I have no equal with a blade. I will carve you like a beef and have my treasure loaded by noon.”
“Kill me if you can,” Morgan replied.
LeBishop charged. His black coat flapped as he bore down on his victim, his cutlass a blur as he chopped and hacked and stabbed from side to side then tried for the head. Morgan retreated, parried what
he could, then dodged most of the other blows, yet suffered another gash along the ribs and lost a bit of scalp. LeBishop pressed his attack, unrelenting, his blade whistling through the air as it sought flesh and blood.
he could, then dodged most of the other blows, yet suffered another gash along the ribs and lost a bit of scalp. LeBishop pressed his attack, unrelenting, his blade whistling through the air as it sought flesh and blood.
Both men began to breathe hard. The clang of steel on steel echoed through the warehouse. Their boots scraped across the floor. Morgan almost lost his footing more than once. His arm was weary and he began to doubt himself. For years the two men had been heading for this confrontation. It was long overdue.
With a clash and a clatter, Morgan's blade snapped, the blade spun off into the shadows. LeBishop lunged for the kill. Morgan tossed the hilt in the Cleric's face and dashed out of harm's way. He retreated, searching the area around him for another weapon, noticed the jeweled dagger out of reach and instantly regretted tossing it out like a challenge.
He kicked over a chest of spices, tossed another box of gems at LeBishop, who ducked and danced away, laughing. Hurling anything he could get his hands on into the Black Cleric's path, Morgan fell back to the depths of the warehouse, back where the riches gave way to the produce of the plantations, barrels of salted pork, grain, and cut cane. And there among the shadows he spied a leather-wrapped wooden grip and he smiled grimly in recognition as his hand closed round it, remembering a youth spent in captivity and the years of labor in the fields of Santiago. Morgan knew in that moment he would not die this day.
“What are you waiting for, LeBishop? Come and finish it.”
The Black Cleric paused, caught his breath. The man was unarmed, wounded. No longer a threat, but still insolent to the end. And indeed this was the end.
“What is this? Are you afraid?” Morgan called out. “Come on. One good cut deserves another.”
LeBishop raised his cutlass and charged, bearing down like the wrath of the God Almighty. Twenty feet, fifteen, ten ⦠“Morgaaaannnnn!” Kill him. Kill him. Kill â¦
Morgan stepped aside and as the Black Cleric rushed past, swung the weapon he had found, the tool that once had been like an extension of his arm. The cane-cutter rose and fell. Lantern light flickered off its broad hooked blade and caught LeBishop along the back of the neck. The Black Cleric's body collided with the back wall and flopped atop a stack of hides. Elena Maria cried out and averted her gaze as
LeBishop's head rolled into the light and came to rest against an overturned box of pearls.
LeBishop's head rolled into the light and came to rest against an overturned box of pearls.
Morgan emerged from the shadows, he paused by the gruesome remains of the Cleric, lifted the cane-cutterâthe symbol of his servitude had been his salvation. He laid it gently by LeBishop's remains and crossed the warehouse to Elena's side. She turned to him, pressed her face against his chest and began to sob.
“You're a widow now,” he said.
Elena Maria stifled a gasp, tried to conceal the joy surging through her spirit. Her fortune was safe. And she had del Campo's name. Everything had worked out. Morgan was here. They could be together again, at least for a while, and she would have his protection. This was her hour of triumph.
“Thanks be to heaven, my love. My own true love.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her chest crushed against him. She ignored the blood that stained her dress, and covered his face with kisses. “I knew you would come for me. I knew I could count on you, that you would not forget what we once shared. It can be that way again now. You will grant me your protection as you once did not so long ago. I know you will, my beloved.” She sensed they weren't alone and peered past his shoulder and noticed Nell Jolly standing in the doorway, and behind her, Pierre Voisin, Rafiki Kogi, Israel Goodenough, and a crowd of buccaneers, all of them awaiting Morgan's orders.
“Sacre bleu,”
Voisin muttered, in awe at the treasures. The others could not even manage an oath. They were struck dumb in the presence of such wealth.
Voisin muttered, in awe at the treasures. The others could not even manage an oath. They were struck dumb in the presence of such wealth.
“Panama is yours, Captain Morgan,” said Israel. “What are your orders?”
Morgan gently freed himself from Elena Maria's grasp and faced his companions, this time meeting Nell's gaze, seeing the question in her eyes, and answering it the only way he knew how.
“Leave the pearls, LeBishop sort of has his eye on them.”
Elena Maria's features turned ashen. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. His protection, he must spare her, because he loved her, because ⦠“No.”
“Take it!” Morgan called out. Yes, Panama was his! Morgan's great heart swelled to near bursting as he indicated the gathered wealth of the house of Saucedo. “Take it!”
“Wait!” Elena wailed, and collapsed to her knees in horror and buried her face in her hands. “No!”
“Yes!” Nell Jolly shouted. She dashed across the room to leap into Morgan's waiting embrace.
Henry Morgan raised his arms aloft and raised the roof beams with his thunderous cry.
“Take it all!”
W
e are Brethren of Blood,
we are sons of the sea.
We are children of havoc
and born to be free.
e are Brethren of Blood,
we are sons of the sea.
We are children of havoc
and born to be free.
Draw up the gangway and come take a stand,
We'll have prize money aplenty, when next we spy land.
So here's to the Black Flag we follow with pride,
Here's to Morgan, Mad Morgan who sails on the tide.
We'll have prize money aplenty, when next we spy land.
So here's to the Black Flag we follow with pride,
Here's to Morgan, Mad Morgan who sails on the tide.
Other books
Constricted: Beyond the Brothel Walls by Ryans, Rae
Vegan Virgin Valentine by Carolyn Mackler
Winter Birds by Turner, Jamie Langston
Robert Ludlum's (TM) The Janson Option (Paul Janson) by Garrison, Paul
1985 - Stars and bars by William Boyd, Prefers to remain anonymous
My Miserable Life by F. L. Block
Moonlight by Katie Salidas
Windblowne by Stephen Messer
Blackstaff by Steven E. Schend
Untitled by Unknown Author