Chapter 18

The waters south of the islands were dark and grey and at times rough with deep troughs and high swells. It was not the best of weather. The trip had taken them over three weeks. The winds had been against them for at least part of the voyage and caution had taken them away from the rugged African coast once the small armada had rounded the cape to beat a course northward towards their final destination. Still the ships of the armada were still together as a force and they had weathered the trip well as had their crews. Both were ready for what now lay ahead of them.

Pedro stood upon the forecastle of the Hawk and he stared out at the cold, dark waters intently. He was dressed for the weather and wrapped warmly against the bitter north winds and the spray of the sea as it washed over the foredeck of his vessel. About him sailors tended the sails and lines and his coxswain paced the main deck of the Hawk ensuring that everything was in order and that the sails of the Hawk took the wind and drove the vessel forward. With Pedro stood Henrique his gunnery officer and Hector, his ever present shadow. Neither of them spoke. They instead stood by Pedro and waited on him, huddled warmly in their own heavy cloaks.

Pedro was not really looking at the sea. His vision was instead focused on the ships about him. Before him sailed the Cadiz. The ship had taken two weeks in Gwato to refit and to make ready for sea and battle. It was now captained by Bartholomew. With him sailed Dieter and Hans van Holien from the Virago. The ship had taken another week to crew it and prepare it for sea. With the Hawk and the Cadiz sailed the Madrid and the Santa Louise. These vessels sailed flanking the Hawk as if escorting a prize home to the Condor's pirate haven. Behind the Hawk sailed the Virago under the command of Captain Garcia. The former raiders all sailed with black pennants and flags flying from the vessel's mastheads, as did the Hawk.

That was the plan that Pedro and his friends develop back on Eko. The decision had been made to send in the captured pirate ships still flying their colours in the hope that any vessel belonging to the Condor would believe them to be friends. Only once the ships had come together would the captains of each vessel strike their false colours and raise the pennants of House Alvarez and the flags of Portugal. By then, with hope and God's favour, it would be too late for the enemy to react.

They were currently two to three days south of the pirate haven given the wind that they were forced to sail against. Pedro's hope was to make the island before dusk so that he could put ashore his raiding party. That was the other part of his plan. While the armada rounded the island and made for the anchorage that the Condor's ships used, Ishmael and the raiding party that they had taken south would make their way overland in the hopes of quieting the shore defences before they could be brought to bear against the armada. If all went well the shore battery would be taken by surprise as would the men ashore and the ships at anchor off the shore, if any were there would be taken quickly with little damage to them. Everything depended on speed and surprise and the success of their deception.

"It is not a good day," Pedro finally said turning and looking at the two men who were with him. "I'd hate to have to do battle in these seas. Hopefully the waters of the anchorage will be sheltered enough for our task."

"It will be fine, my Lord," Henrique replied in his stilted Portuguese. "My men will do you proud."

"I am certain of that my good gunner," Pedro stated with confidence, "but I am still concerned. Enough men have died because of the Condor. I don't wish to see any more die because of my own foolishness."

"You need not fear that, my Lord," Henrique reassured Pedro. "Our force is strong and our weapons proven. With God's will we will take the bastards by surprise before they can charge their cannons. Just wait and see."

"Besides," Hector muttered, interjecting his thoughts into the conversation, "we have those new weapons that old Moor gave you. With them we will be unstoppable."

Pedro simply nodded at that reference. It had been one of the jobs dealt with while Pedro and the others had prepared the expedition to sail west and north. While the ships of the armada were repaired in Gwato and provisioned for sea and battle, Ibrahim had spent his time with the factory's smith manufacturing more explosive orbs and more of his wonderful weapon. They had bought a shipment of bronze in Benin City and they had acquired both iron and gunpowder in Gwato. The bronze was cast into the orbs by the dozen and the iron into the leaf and working mechanism of the weapon. The gunpowder had gone into the orbs. Now there were two of the weapons on each of the ship in the armada. They were in the hands of men trained by Ibrahim and Salem and from what Ibrahim had told Pedro, they knew how to use them. As Hector had stated, the use of the weapons promised to ensure their victory. Still Pedro was aware that anything could happen once battle was engaged and that knowledge made him feel the weight of his responsibility. If men died needlessly it would be his fault and that was not something that Pedro took lightly. He would rather fall in battle then live knowing that he had led his friends to their slaughter. Thinking about that and standing in the wet and cold did nothing for Pedro's mood.

"A messenger from Madrid, your Excellency," Dom Diego stated briskly as he entered the study of his master, the Spanish Ambassador. "He begs an audience of you."

Don Hugo looked up from the papers he was reading and he gazed with annoyance at Don Diego. His eyes were stern and his face reddened in response to the intrusion upon his time and space. It took him a second or two to put his temper in check. Even still, Don Hugo's tone on speaking was less than congenial.

"What messenger," Don Hugo demanded to know in a sharp manner. "I've received no notice from the harbour master that a ship had arrived from Spain. Who is this man and why does he disturb me?"

"Forgive me your Excellency," Don Diego pleaded, bowing his head towards his master as he spoke, "but the man has arrived upon horse having taken an overland route to reach us with his message. The man claims to represent your agent in Madrid."

"Did he provide proof of his authenticity?" Don Hugo demanded to know.

"Yes Excellency, he did," Don Diego reassured his master, stepping towards his master's desk. In his hand he carried an open letter.

"Give that to me," Don Hugo snapped angrily, pulling the letter from his servant's hand so that he could read it. For the next minute Don Hugo's eyes flickered over the surface of the letter as he took in the contents of what was there. When he was done, Don Hugo looked up at Dom Diego and scowled.

"Did he give the proper countersign?" Don Hugo asked as he tossed the letter onto his desk top.

"He did, your Excellency," Don Hugo answered his master without hesitation. "He has presented himself with all proofs as arranged with your agent. Do you wish to speak to him?"

"Of course I want to speak to him you fool!" Don Hugo snapped in response, causing his servant to jump. "Now go and show him in."

It was nighttime and much of the residence had closed down for the day. It took Don Diego a minute or two to fetch the man.

The man was short and rough looking. He wore the clothing of a common soldier. His attire was black and over it he wore a heavy travelling cloak and upon his head sat a broad rimmed hat. The hat and cloak were damp with rain. The man came in preceding Don Diego and once in the room he came to a halt a few feet from Don Hugo's desk.

"Excellency," the man intoned formally, sweeping his hat off and bowing in acknowledgement of his position as he addressed Don Hugo. "It is an honour to present myself."

"Yes, yes," Don Hugo growled inhospitably towards the man, "I'm certain it is for you, however I am a busy man and I have not time for formality. Tell me your message and then be gone."

The briskness of Don Hugo's nature took the man by surprise and held his words in check for a moment or two. He had been warned that the Count de Cordoba was not a man to mince words with, however considering the distance he had travelled and the message that he bore, the man felt a little civility was in order. Still he was but a messenger and thus only a servant and as such he held his tongue. With a bow of his head once more to hide his own displeasure at the situation, the man gave his message to Don Hugo.

"My master sent me with this word for you, your Excellency," the man intoned formally as he delivered his message. "The death of Don Sebastian de Sousa came as a surprise at court. Don Sebastian was a trusted servant of their majesties, the king and queen. More importantly, the suggestion that Don Sebastian did not die of natural causes proved even more disturbing to the court."

"What suggestion was this?" Don Hugo demanded to know, his face reddening at the unspoken accusation. "Everyone knows that the man drank himself to death in his bed. My report was sent to the king and queen and so were the statements of all who witnessed Don Sebastian's body. They all said the same."

"That may be so your Excellency," the messenger replied, bowing his head slightly as he went on, "but those papers were not the only letters delivered to the court. The captain of the Aragon also delivered a missive from the House of Alvarez to their most Christian highnesses, the king and queen. That missive stated that Don Sebastian died by your command and that the assassin's hand was that of your captain of the guard, Alfonso de Seville."

"That is a lie," Don Hugo growled loudly in protest, his face growing even redder.

"Again that may be so Excellency," the man continued trying to ignore the fury that was welling up before him, "but the letter named witnesses including your own niece, the Dona Isabella de Cordoba."

"Again a lie," Don Hugo snapped angrily, his eyes bulging as he spoke.

"So said my master in your defence, Excellency," the man went on, trying to reassure Don Hugo and lessen his anger as he spoke. "My master spoke up for you as did others whose loyalty you may count on. My master's voice was strong and for a while it silenced those voices that spoke of recalling you to Madrid to answer questions before the court. Unfortunately matters have worsened."

"How so?" Don Hugo demanded to know, thumping his fist upon his desktop as he spoke.

"Word has reached Madrid that the latest expedition to the New World has gone missing," the messenger informed Don Hugo, "and the voices in court opposed to you have suggested that pirate vessels under you patronage have seized them. This suggestion enraged my master and he tried to defend you before the king but it was to no avail. The king and queen are concerned about what has happened and they wish to resolve this matter. They have sent an armed ship and a company of men to Lisbon under the command of Don Enrique de Pissarro. Their orders are to escort you back to Madrid to stand before the king and queen and to explain these accusations to the court. In your place, a new ambassador will be appointed to serve Spain's interests in the court of King Manuel. That ambassador will be arriving soon. He is the Count of Madera, Don Frederique de Gambaro."

"This is ridiculous and an insult to my House and to my office as Ambassador," Don Hugo declared standing abruptly as he spoke. As he did he knocked over his chair and sent it banging to the floor. "I will protest this action all the way to the king and queen. I am a loyal Spaniard and a Christian man who does not deserve to be treated in this manner."

"That may be so, Excellency, "the messenger acknowledged with a sigh, knowing that he would soon regret his words, "but the fact is that the king has sent Don Enrique to escort you back to Madrid and there is little that you can do about it. His ship will have sailed yesterday at the latest and in this season and in this weather he will be here in Lisbon in a matter of days. When he and Don Frederique present themselves at court with their letters of introduction, your stay here in Lisbon will have ended. It is my master's suggestion that you do not wait their arrival. Flee now while you still have a chance."

"Flee!" Don Hugo raged in reply. "I am the Condor and I will not flee. I know people here in Lisbon who are in my debt for the favours that I have done for them. These people owe me greatly and I intend to make them pay. They will shield me from this insult or they will regret crossing me. I will ensure that neither Don Enrique nor Don Frederique will be able to present their papers to the King of Portugal. Until they do I will remain ambassador."

"That too may be so, Excellency," the messenger murmured softly in reply, "but such an action will only make matters worse for you. My master suggests caution in this matter and not rashness. Flee to safety and then trust him to smooth matters in Madrid for you. In the end, all will be resolved and you will be able to return without disgrace. It would be for the best, your Excellency."

"The best?" Don Hugo exclaimed sharply, stepping about his desk as he growled. As he did, Don Hugo placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword. His eyes were wide with anger. "I will tell you what is best you fool. It would be best if you shut your mouth."

With that Don Hugo drew his blade. The messenger stepped backwards instinctively, realizing the danger he was in. As the man did, his hand fell to the hilt of his sword. He never got the opportunity to draw it. Don Hugo lunged forward with both speed and skill. The man fell dead a moment later.

"Clean up that mess," Don Hugo snapped towards Don Diego as he sheathed his blade back into its scabbard, "and then summon me Alfonso. We have matters to discuss. It is time to call in some favours."

Ishmael stood at the starboard railing of the Hawk and he watched in silent contemplation as each of his men scrambled down into the large canoes that had been lowered into the sea beside the ship. It was grey and wet and a cold and miserable day for a boat ride but there was no choice in the matter. Ishmael and his men needed to get to shore. It was all part of the plan.

As each man settled into the bobbing boats the man's weapons and equipment were lowered down to him. It all took time and effort and a lot of care. Even with the side of the Hawk between them and the open sea, the rising and falling of the water made disembarking from the craft dangerous even with the care they were taking.

The Hawk and the rest of the armada were riding at anchor off the western shore of Bona Vista, the eastern most island of the Cape Verde archipelago. The four larger vessels were standing out to sea. They rode at their sea anchors with their crews watchful for the sight of any unwelcomed interloper. None of the captains had a desire to be surprised by the very pirates that they were attempting to catch off guard. They stood their watch with double lookouts and with their gun crews at the ready. While those vessels stood guard, Pedro had taken the Hawk into shallower waters so as to speed the disembarkation and to shorten the distance to shore that the raiding party needed to navigate.

"It is time," Ishmael said as the last of his men had settled himself into his place within the canoes. "I'd best be going."

"Good luck, my friend," Pedro replied a moment later, extending his hand towards Ishmael, "and may God watch over you and your men."

"If Allah wills it, my lord," Ishmael stated in reply, "It will be so. I wish you the same luck. Hopefully this will all be over with in the next few days and we will be able to sail home."

"Agreed my friend," Pedro acknowledged in a low voice. "I hope so as well. I will be looking forward to sailing into the Grande Harbour and more importantly confronting the Condor. For now however we must wait. Keep your mind on this mission and be careful. I want to see you again when this is done. We still have a lot of work to be done before either of us can rest."

"I will be careful, my lord," Ishmael solemnly promised, "and I suggest you do the same. I will see you tomorrow morning."

With that Ishmael handed Pedro his weapons and personal equipment to hold while he climbed down the ladder that would take him to the bobbing canoe that was being held tight to the side of the Hawk. Before he went over the side a sailor quickly looped a rope about him as a precaution. If Ishmael fell into the sea, the crew of the Hawk could pull him out. Luckily the need to do so never happened. Once Ishmael was in the bow of the lead canoe, a sailor took his weapons and equipment from Pedro and he handed them down to the man. Once Ishmael had reclaimed them, all lines were slipped and the men in the canoes pushed off from the side of the Hawk. After that paddles were unshipped and the men in the canoes struck out for shore.

Pedro stood at the railing and watched the two canoes head towards the shore. The shore was in fact not far away and while the surf was high, the trading canoes rode the waves well. In seconds they were darting towards the sandy beaches and the dune covered shores of the small volcanic island. It really didn't take them long to get there.

Ishmael was the first out of the leading craft. When he stepped onto the beach he turned and looked back towards the Hawk and the other ships. Under the grey overcast sky and with the drizzling rain it was hard to see anything. Still he waved towards where he knew that his young master was standing and watching. Then he turned and gave orders to his men.

"You two," Ishmael barked into the blowing wind, addressing the next two men who'd been in the same canoe as he had been in. "Grab your weapons and equipment and move inland together. Sweep those dunes for any sign of life and then get back to me. You have fifteen minutes."