Chapter 14

Pedro stood in the tower by the Port Gate and he looked out towards the lagoon where all the ships lay at anchor. He sighed heavily as he took in the scene. Of all the vessels anchored in the shallow waters only the Hawk had made it through the engagement intact. The other vessels were all battered and broken. None of them were seaworthy at all.

The battle hadn't ended with the striking of the colours of the last enemy vessel. The first ship that the Hawk had engaged, the one that Pedro had left to the Bella Maria to finish off had tried to run towards open waters and safety. The attempt had been in vain however and in the end the crew of the ship surrendered when the Hawk, having come about, had moved in to grapple it to force a boarding action. It had been a bloody undertaking. Pedro had lost three men in the effort. Still it could have been worse. The evidence of that now lay upon the beach that stood between the walls of the factory and the blue waters of the lagoon. Shrouded bodies lay waiting for burial. The only question was where that would be. There certainly wasn't a place on the island big enough for the number of dead that the battle had left him. The Hawk would have to sail again and carry the dead out to sea.

Pedro wasn't looking forward to that. Of the trading fleet roughly a quarter of the combined crews had been killed. The Bella Rosa had been hit the worst. One third of her crew had been killed or wounded and most of the wounded would probably die very soon. There was in fact little hope for any of the wounded. Their injuries were too severe.

As for the pirate vessels, they had suffered worse. In all over half their combined crews had been slain or injured in the action. Of the three ships only one had surrendered with its captain still in command and of the three vessels, the Cadiz had suffered the worst. It had lost all her officers and almost two-thirds of her men before the vessel had surrendered.

"How are you my young pupil?" Ibrahim asked as he entered the tower where Pedro was standing. As he came to a halt beside the young nobleman, his eyes fell on the shrouded bodies that lay spaced out on the beach. The old man sighed and shook his head. An unspoken prayer crossed his lips.

"A heavy price to pay for another man's folly," Ibrahim muttered a moment later.

"It is indeed," Pedro responded in a tired voice, not taking his eyes off the bodies even as he spoke.

"Still it is not your fault Pedro," Ibrahim pointed out after a moment of silence. "You did not bring this down upon yourself. It was the doing of another man. You just defended yourself and your people. That is all you did."

"I know my teacher," Pedro acknowledged, sighing again as he did. "But it was still costly in both men and ships and I fear what else may still be awaiting us out there. Our enemy has shown today that he is willing to take risks. That bodes ill for all of us."

"It does indeed," Ibrahim admitted without hesitation, "but of all things, I believe that you will overcome our enemy and in the end defeat him. For all your youth and rashness, you have shown yourself to be resourceful and reserved when you wish to be. With the support of your friends and the blessings of Allah and the Prophet, who is his messenger, I believe you will win in the end. You need only to have faith."

"That I have my teacher," Pedro replied with a soft chuckle in his voice. "I have faith in my friends and in my ship. If the Condor wishes to take this matter to the sea then I will meet him there and we will test our mettle against one another. Until then I will focus on other matters. Those men deserve a decent burial regardless of who sent them here and what side they fought on. I will see to that first and then I will see to repairing the fleet. I fear I might have need for it."

"And the expedition to the Kingdom of Kongo," Ibrahim inquired, raising an eyebrow and looking at Pedro as he spoke, "is that still in your plans?"

"Yes my friend," Pedro answered softly, his voice taking on a serious tone. "That too is in my plans. I will see to matters here first, but then I will sail south in search of the Condor's secret lair and when I get there, I will take my revenge for this day and for every act that the Condor has perpetrated against my House. I will certainly make him pay. You have my word on that."

"Tell me what happened."

It was evening and Pedro was entertaining the captains of the three trade vessels at his residence. They were seated across the low table from him and Asmara. Flanking him were Ishmael and Ibrahim. Bartholomew was not there tonight. He was still inspecting the damaged ships that were anchored in the lagoon. With luck one or two of them could be repaired here in Eko by their crews and a workforce from the factory. The rest would probably have to be sent to Gwato and that would involve time and effort. It would also risk rumours as to what had happened, rumours that could get back to Lisbon and the ears of the Condor. It was something that Pedro did not want.

"The raiders jumped us three days ago," Captain Jorge of the Bella Rosa stated solemnly in a voice filled with fatigue. "Since then the raiders have tried to cut one of our vessels away from the other so they could overpower it. Happily they did not succeed in their efforts and more importantly, we were able to deter them with our stern chasers, doing them damage more often than they inflicted harm to us. Still it has been a long three days. We thank you for your welcome, Dom Pedro."

"It is my pleasure to bestow that welcome upon you good men," Pedro said truthfully, "and your crews. The arrival of the trade fleet, regardless of the condition of your vessels pleases me immensely. So said, please eat and drink and relax for a bit. I would like to hear more about your adventure."

"Again Dom Pedro," Captain Jorge responded with all due courtesy, "we thank-you for your welcome and your kind words. Hopefully our tale, though sorrowful in the telling will prove informative to you and your men."

"I am certain that it will, my good Captain," Pedro replied smiling warmly towards the man and then nodding to the two men seated beside him. The other men were Captain Ortega of the Santa Christos and Captain Hernandez of the Bella Maria. Like Captain Jorge they looked worn and tired. Still they met Pedro's gaze with the strength of men who had commanded men through the worst of situations and that alone reassured Pedro as to the character of the men.

"What interests me the most is the fate of Dom Jose," Pedro said in a low voice a moment or two later as the men before him settled in to enjoy the repast that their lord and master had laid out before them. "How did he die? Was it in battle against these craven dogs that we now hold captive?"

"No Dom Pedro," Captain Jorge replied in a mournful manner, "the Admiral did not die in battle. Regrettably Dom Jose fell ill a week or so after departing Lisbon. Whatever the sickness was, it took him quickly. There was nothing that we could do to save him. He died before we rounded the western cape and we buried him at sea. It was all we could do for him."

"Did anyone else upon the Bella Rosa fall sick?" Ibrahim asked the captain pointedly, interrupting Pedro before he could ask another question. The man stared at Ibrahim for a moment and then he glanced towards Pedro.

"Go on," Pedro growled in response, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Answer the man."

"No," Captain Jorge admitted at the urging of his lord and master. "No one else died of sickness upon this voyage. Why?"

"And what were the man's symptoms?" Ibrahim asked without answering the man's question.

"Fatigue at first and a loss of appetite," Captain Jorge replied after pausing for a moment to think back on the events. "The Admiral took to his cabin after the first day and stayed there. The fatigue quickly turned to lethargy and his visage took on a greyish pallor. By the next morning he was dead."

"And do you remember the colour of his lips or his extremities?" Ibrahim pressed on when the man fell silent.

"I do not remember," Captain Jorge replied almost in an apologetic manner. "Is it important?"

"It is," Ibrahim admitted in a low voice, "if what I suspect is true."

"And what do you suspect old man?" Captain Jorge asked, his voice taking on a tone of annoyance.

"My old teacher," Pedro stated cutting into the conversation before Ibrahim had a chance to respond, "suspects that Dom Jose was killed by poison. That is why he has asked these questions for me."

"Poison?" all three men across the table from Pedro and his friends blurted out almost as one, with Captain Jorge finishing everyone's thought with, "That cannot be."

"But it can be and I suspect it was," Pedro declared with certainty. "Unfortunately we believe that an agent of our enemy sailed upon one of the three ships within the trading fleet and from what you have told me, I now believe that the man was upon the Bella Rosa and somehow he gained access to Dom Jose. With that access the agent poisoned Dom Jose and killed him."

"Are you certain?" Captain Hernandez asked bluntly, looking very nervous.

"Yes," Pedro declared with a heavy sigh,

"Do you have a name for this killer?" Dom Jorge inquired urgently, glancing towards the two men seated on either side of him.

"No," Pedro admitted without hesitating, "we do not know his name or what he looks like. It will take us time and effort to find the man and even more to trip him up."

"He could already be dead," Captain Hernandez suggested with a hint of optimism in his voice.

"He may indeed be dead," Ishmael interjected, speaking for the first time during the conversation, "but then again he might still be alive. We will not know until we search the man out. He might also have an accomplice."

"But how can we find the man?" Captain Ortega inquired. "He could be anyone."

"We will begin by eliminating who the man could not be," Pedro informed the other man and his companions sternly. "Like all masters of your trade there are men upon your ship that you trust implicitly. In my case the men I trust the most besides those sitting beside me are my officers and the coxswain of the Hawk. These men have served me or my House for many years and I would never suspect them of betrayal. That may be naïve of me but it is the truth. The same goes for them. They know men aboard the Hawk who have served with them for years and they either trust those men or they do not. Of the crew upon the Hawk, if asked, I could eliminate four-fifths of them in any inquiry. I would say you could do the same. That is what we will do. Each of you will make a list of men you trust and you will give it to my Captain of the Guard. Ishmael will question each of them and learn who they trust in turn. Slowly we will eliminate those we can trust which will leave us men who can not be trusted or who can not be vouched for because they are new to your ships. These men we will question intently. With luck we may find the agent. We can only hope."

"Well the good news is that none of the ships are holed below the waterline," Bartholomew stated loudly, "but the bad news is that only the Hawk is seaworthy. The rest of the ships will take weeks to repair if not longer."

It was early the next morning and both Pedro and Bartholomew were standing on the Hawk where it stood at anchor in the lagoon. Pedro had rowed out to the Hawk right after his breakfast. He had dined with Omar who had come to report on the ships taken in the battle. The man had been with Bartholomew the day before while the sailor had inspected the vessels. He had investigated each of the pirate vessels for booty. What Omar found was not as favourable as one could wish. Beyond some funds carried by each ship's captain to pay for needs in their journey the three vessels were poor in gold and silver. There were cannons though and powder a plenty along with cannonballs. There were also plenty of personal arms. Swords had been gathered up as well as knives, pistols, and a handful of muskets. All of it would end up stored within the factory for later use. It was the present that concerned Pedro now. That was why he was aboard the Hawk.

About them a party of workers were busy making repairs to the ship. For the most part the repairs were minor. The workers were replacing railings that had been damaged by cannonballs that had struck the Hawk during the battle the other day. That and a few torn holes in the ship's sails were all the damage that the vessel had taken. In a fashion they were lucky.

"What about the other ships?" Pedro asked his eyes focused on the vessels that were anchored on the other side of the lagoon. "Which one could we make ready for sea first?"

"The Bella Maria," Bartholomew informed Pedro, scratching his head as he did. "They lost a mast that will need replacing. Beyond that they lost railings and they took damage to their upper hull on both sides. With luck and a good work party we could have her ready to sail in a week and maybe a bit more. The biggest job will be replacing the mast."

"The Don Gomez took considerable damage," Pedro muttered turning his gaze towards the smallest of the pirate raiders. "Will it ever be seaworthy again?"

"Yes," Bartholomew declared firmly, "if you put her into a proper yard and turned over to a shipwright with a trained work crew. No if you try to fix her here at Eko or over at Gwato. She took too much damage to be salvaged."

"Then strip her of what you need for the other ships and repair them," Pedro ordered with a sigh. "It is the only thing to do. If you need it to repair one of our vessels take it from the others. My priority is to see our ships ready to sail before the weather changes."

"Understood, Dom Pedro," Bartholomew acknowledged. "I'll see to it that it is done."

"Also speak to the Spaniards that survived," Pedro said turning towards his friend and first mate. As he spoke he lowered his voice. "While I do not trust them even in chains and irons, we can offer them a choice of working for us or being sold as slaves in Elmina. There are carpenters amongst them and other skilled seamen. If they give us their pledge and honour it, I will not sell them to the mines. When and if I defeat the Condor, I will set them free. Until then they work for the factory as indentured servants."

"I will speak to them today," Bartholomew declared, a smile forming on his face. "It will be good to see them working to repair the damage that they have done."

"It will indeed my friend," Pedro chuckled softly for a second or two. Then his face turned serious once more. "However, tell each and every one of them that if they break their pledge, their actions will punish their fellow prisoners. If one man betrays me in this matter then they will all pay. The man will be hung from the masthead for all to see and his fellow prisoners will be taken to Elmina and sold. I will not be betrayed again."

"As you command Dom Pedro," Bartholomew agreed, "it shall be done."

"Now tell me Bartholomew, can we salvage any of the enemy's ships," Pedro asked with interest in his voice. "Even one would be nice."

"You look tired my friend," Pedro said to Ishmael over supper that night. "Are you all right?"

It was late in the evening again and Pedro was sitting on his patio dining with his friends once again. With him were Bartholomew, Ishmael, and Ibrahim. Also with them was Asmara who was sitting in her usual spot.

"I am fine Dom Pedro," Ishmael with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's just been a very long day."

"True," Pedro acknowledged willingly, glancing from his captain of the guard to his first mate. Bartholomew looked just as tired, yet the fatigue in his face did not hang as heavily from his flesh as it did Ishmael's. It was obvious that worry was weighing him down. Sighing softly Pedro pressed on. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"No Dom Pedro," Ishmael replied formally, "there is nothing that you can do. For now I must work hard and hope for the best."

"Certainly others could help you," Ibrahim spoke up from across the table. "You have lieutenants and sergeants that I know you trust implicitly. What of them?"

"They are busy with their own work," Ishmael informed the older man in a sharp manner. "Regrettably I have tasked them with other duties for the next little while. We have prisoners to watch until we can dispose of them and we have sailors from our own ships that need coddling. Under the current circumstances, I am alone in this matter."

"Ibrahim could help you," Pedro suggested without pause, taking everyone by surprise. "If nothing else he could be an ear to which you could speak with confidence that no one but me will hear your thoughts. It might help with the strain."

"Pedro speaks the truth Ishmael," Ibrahim stated before the shorter swarthy man could wave off the suggestion. "I may not be as stern a man as you, but I know your responsibilities and I could share your burden. It may help lessen your worry knowing you have at least one man to speak to."

Ishmael said nothing in reply to that. He was tired and he was worried. He needed to find an enemy amongst men he didn't even know and who all swore to be loyal to House Alvarez. His fear was that the enemy might slip through his fingers as Esteban had. If that happened, then Ishmael would have failed his master twice and in failing he would probably risk Pedro's life. It wasn't something that he wanted to face. Still it was his duty and his alone. He didn't need the old teacher's help.

"Do not resist me on this my friend," Pedro said as he watched Ishmael mull over what Ibrahim had said. "We are all aware of the task that stands before you and I for one appreciate that you desire to accomplish it on your own. Regardless of that, I can see the worry in your face and the fear in your eyes and I will not have it. I need you as my Captain of the Guard and not a broken man peering about corners because we can not find one man. Take Ibrahim as your aide for now and make use of him. At the very worst he can pray for you. I am certain that Allah will hear his prayers faster than mine. Do this for me, my friend."

"Very well my lord," Ishmael replied with a heavy hearted sigh, surrendering once more to his young master's will. I will do as you ask."

"Excellent," Pedro declared enthusiastically in response to Ishmael's submission. "Let us then drink and eat tonight and let us talk of other matters that are not as pressing. Tomorrow will come soon enough."

"It will still take too much time," Ishmael grumbled in frustration the next morning when Ibrahim joined him at his office. The man was sitting behind a beaten up old table looking through tablets that had been scattered about the surface of the furniture. A cup of wine stood to one side from which Ishmael sipped from time to time. "I just don't know what to do."