Chapter 28

"What is wrong?" Bartholomew asked the moment Pedro stepped onto the main deck of the Hawk. It was later in the morning and the Hawk was now riding at anchor below the walls of Ceuta. Bartholomew had stood at the railing of the ship as his captain had returned. He had seen the stern look upon Pedro's face long before the young man had scrambled up the rope ladder hanging at the side of the craft and he had known instantly that not everything had gone as planned.

"Prepare for sea," Pedro barked loudly, ignoring Bartholomew's question. "I want to get underway as soon as possible. I'll be in my cabin if you need me."

"Aye Captain," Bartholomew gasped in reply as his captain stormed aft towards his cabin. Then as Ishmael climbed aboard the Hawk, Bartholomew turned his gaze towards him.

"The Condor was here ahead of us," Ishmael told Bartholomew, answering the sailor's unspoken question. "He got away."

"How did he get here before us," Bartholomew asked with disbelief upon his face.

"I do not know," Ishmael declared with a tired sigh and a shrug of his shoulders. "We were delayed leaving Lisbon by a day and we took our time getting here, searching out Faro and other ports for another way into the city without raising an alarm. In truth it doesn't really matter. The fact is that the man was one step ahead of us. Through guile and cunning and accursed luck the Condor got to the women before we did. Dom Pedro raised the alarm but by then it was too late. The man had slipped out of the city and supposedly down to the harbour. We've spent the morning attending the Captain-General of Ceuta while the city watch searched ships in the harbour and launches were sent out to inspect fishing craft. No one found the man and it is possible that the Condor slipped away on a Moorish vessel. If so we've wasted part of a day and the man has made good his escape. There is no telling which way he might have travelled. He might have even struck out by land, although that is doubted by most of us. A party of Christians travelling within Moorish territory without escort or permission would be a dangerous act at the very least. It is more likely he has paid a Moorish captain to take him somewhere safe."

"I agree," Bartholomew muttered as he stood beside Ishmael and spoke. As he did, his eyes swept the harbour and the seas beyond it. He looked towards the distant shores of Spain and towards the nearby straight. Then he glanced to the west and the great ocean that lay there. Finally he spoke his mind. "The man could have sailed anywhere, although it would be unlikely for him to head for Spain being wanted as a traitor there."

"True," Ishmael said in agreement. "That still leaves the Mediterranean or the ocean to the west. Did you see any craft head in either direction while you brought the Hawk in? You might have spotted the man's ship without knowing it."

"I wish I had known it," Bartholomew spat back with disgust in his mouth, "and then we would not be having this conversation. I did see some Moorish vessels slipping away from the harbour as we came in. A large trader rowed northeast towards the strait. It looked to be heavily laden. I also saw two smaller craft headed westward. One struck for the coast and the other for open waters. Both were no better than large fishing boats. Each of them had only one mast. I doubt either of them will have travelled far. The question is which craft to follow."

Ishmael nodded thoughtfully as Bartholomew's words wound down. His mind was on the return of his men as much as on what the old sailor was telling him. He watched as his men scrambled aboard the Hawk to muster under his watchful eyes. The last to come aboard were Don Enrique and Martinez. In their company they escorted the prisoners taken in the city. Alfonso de Seville required assistance to climb aboard. He was very pale from the blood loss suffered the night before. The others had less of a problem boarding. Still, hands were laid upon them to help them aboard.

"See to it that the prisoners are secured and watched," Ishmael ordered Martinez once everyone was aboard, "and see to it the men get some rest. The Hawk will be putting to sea again within the next hour and we will be heading in pursuit of the Condor. There is a chance that you will again see action so tend to the needs of the men and yourself once those traitors are locked up."

"As you command Captain Ishmael, it shall be done," Martinez responded promptly, stiffening his back and nodding his head in acknowledgement before turning his attention to the tasks given him.

"What will we do now?" Don Enrique asked Ishmael once Martinez and the other guards had led the prisoners away and the boats that had brought them out to the Hawk had slipped away from the ship's side. "Do we return to Lisbon and your king or do we hunt the traitor down? What has Dom Pedro told you to do?"

"Dom Pedro has ordered me to weigh anchor and to put out to sea immediately," Bartholomew informed the Spanish nobleman, "and that is what I intend to do. As for where we sail, that is a question for Dom Pedro to answer. Perhaps you and Ishmael can get an answer from him while I rouse the crew and put them to work."

"I will see to it," Ishmael grunted in response to the look that Bartholomew had given him, "and I will pass on what you have told me. I'm certain we will have a course long before we clear this harbour."

"And I will go with you," Don Enrique informed Ishmael, "to speak my thoughts on the matter as well. I will be interested to hear what Dom Pedro intends to do."

"Do we sail to the east or the west?" Ishmael asked Pedro once he'd gain access into his young master's cabin. "Bartholomew needs to chart a course."

Pedro was stripped to his waist and he was washing in the small basin that stood beside his bunk. A clean shirt lay upon the surface of the bunk. His sword belt with sword and long knife lay beside it as did his brace of pistols. His armour and the shirt he'd worn the night before lay on the cabin floor.

"What do you suggest, my old friend?" Pedro asked Ishmael as he grabbed up a cloth to dry himself off. "Have you any thoughts as to where the bastard has fled?"

"I spoke with Bartholomew upon boarding," Ishmael stated firmly in reply, "while you came here. Your first mate spotted three Moorish vessels leaving port while the Hawk made her way to her anchorage. One was a large, heavily laden merchant that was heading towards the straits and the Mediterranean beyond. Two were smaller crafts that were heading west. If it was my choice I'd sail after those two vessels. I'm certain the Condor is fleeing on one of them."

"Why do you think that soldier?" Don Enrique asked from where he'd been leaning against the wall of the cabin, watching the conversation.

"I think so because it makes sense to me, my lord," Ishmael replied with a quick look towards the Spanish nobleman. "To me the Condor would not sail to the east. He is not well loved by the Moors and he has made enemies in both Spain and Portugal. He could make his way to the states of Italy but what then. The kings and dukes of the peninsula are indebted to Spain or to the King of France. Even the Pope acts only at the urging of the foreign armies that march through the lands. I cannot see the Condor finding sanctuary there."

"Then he has sailed west," Pedro interjected as he pulled on his clean shirt. "It would make sense as you put it. The question is which ship to pursue?"

"Again I think the one sailing due west is the vessel we want," Ishmael declared without hesitation. "I couldn't see the man seeking sanctuary in Morocco. The Moors would have his head."

"Then that is the vessel we should pursue," Pedro stated firmly in agreement. "It makes sense to me. The man has very few allies left. He may try for Faro and Portugal again, hoping to hide in plain sight again. With three women in his company I cannot see him succeeding. If the women give him trouble he would quickly be undone. It is more likely that he is taking the Moorish vessel to sea. Perhaps he did not hear that we'd sacked his pirate base on Bona Vista. A small Moorish vessel could make it that far in good seas and with a strong wind driving the vessel forward. Go tell Bartholomew my thoughts and that I will be with him momentarily. I'll be up above once I have dressed."

"I've paid you gold and silver," Don Hugo told the man who stood by the tiller of the craft that he was aboard. "I expect to be taken where I have commanded."

"Yes, most excellent gentleman," the captain of the vessel lisped in stilted Spanish, "I will take you where you wish, but it will take time. My men can only row for so long and the sea beyond the coast is rougher than expected. We must turn southwest for a bit and allow the wind to drive us on a bit before turning towards the island haven you seek. You must trust me, most noble gentleman. I will take you where you want but you must remain patient.

Don Hugo looked at the man and scowled in response. The man simply grinned broadly in reply. His smile revealed a mouth half empty of teeth. Disgusted Don Hugo turned away. He glanced out towards the water about the craft. The ship was running swiftly through a trough. The water on either side of the craft rose darkly about them. A second later the vessel crested the swell and settled down once more. Shrugging his shoulders Don Hugo turned and moved away from the stern. Slowly he worked his way across the open deck and the rowing stations as he made his way forward. Eventually he made the bow of the craft. There huddled beneath some canvas lay the three girls. They all looked at him in horror as Don Hugo stared down at them. None of them said a word. They couldn't. They were all bound and gagged. Don Hugo just laughed at the frightened faces.

"Ship off the starboard bow," the lookout cried out several hours later.

The day had dragged. The Hawk had turned west once it had cleared the harbour at Ceuta. Pedro had ordered all possible sails raised and the crew had jumped to it. Still the Moorish vessel had gotten a good head start and it took time to catch up with them. During that time Pedro had paced the poop deck, marching from railing to railing as if he were a pendulum upon a clock. No one dared approach him. Only the lookout's cry pulled him from his thoughts.

"Coxswain," Pedro cried out loudly as he rushed forward on the poop deck until he was standing at the railing separating the deck from the main deck. "Pipe the company to action stations."

Immediately the Coxswain ordered the alert to be piped and the sound of the ship's piper rang out, summoning all hands to their stations. One of the first to reach the main deck was Henrique.

"Man the bow chasers," Pedro shouted at the German gunner, "and prepare to send a warning shot across their bow."

"Aye Captain," Henrique replied in his stilted Portuguese, before running forward to carry out his captain's orders.

Pedro pulled out his spy-glass and stared at the craft that they had been pursuing. The ship ahead of them was still some distance away but that did not matter. It was obvious that the Hawk was out stripping the other vessel and that the Hawk would overtake it soon. When it had, they would seize the craft and board it. The craft was small in comparison to the Hawk and Pedro knew that it was unarmed. What resistance offered would collapse with very little effort.

"Ishmael," Pedro called out to his captain of the guard. "Prepare the men and have them ready to board the boat once the craft has struck its sails."

"Understood my lord," Ishmael called back to Pedro before turning his mind to the task at hand.

The small craft surrendered without a fight. The vessel had turned northwest as the Hawk had bore down on her from astern, perhaps hoping to make port along the southern coast of Spain or Portugal. The vessel's captain had raised the craft's sail and he'd ordered his oarsmen to beat the course towards the shore but as fate would have it they never made it. It took only one shot from the bow chaser to put an end to that effort. When the cannon spoke and the ball from it plopped down beside the small craft, the captain gave up.

"Get your lines across as soon as possible," Pedro cried out to his coxswain.

"Aye Captain," the man shouted back to him.

"Have your snipers ready," Pedro shouted at Ishmael. "I don't want to give them a chance to harm the women."

"We're ready Dom Pedro," Ishmael yelled back in a steady voice. "You don't have to worry."

But Pedro was worried. He worried that Don Hugo would do something mad at the last moment, harming the women with him instead of surrendering. He worried that the women were already dead. He worried that this was the wrong ship and that the Condor had escaped. Pedro was right to worry.

The Hawk came along side the smaller craft and grappling hooks were thrown over. Even as the lines were pulled in and secured, Ishmael was calling out to the captain of the vessel in Arabic. The old soldier was telling the man to cooperate if he wanted him and his men to live. Then he demanded to know where the Condor and the women were. The man in the stern of the smaller craft only looked at Ishmael in dismay. The craft was not the one they were looking for.

"Why are we hugging the coastline?" Don Hugo demanded to know of the man who captained the small craft he was on. "We should be heading out to sea."

"No noble gentleman, we should not be out to sea yet," the ship's captain said in stilted Spanish, shaking his head as he did. "I have told you once already that this craft is small and that the seas are rough at this time of year. We must hug the coast for a day or two before turning towards the islands that you wish to reach. It will be better this way."

"I've paid you to take me to the island," Don Hugo hissed with annoyance at the man, "and I have promised you even more wealth once we get there. I demand you turn out to sea and make for them immediately. I must reach them as soon as possible."

"Forgive me most noble gentleman," the captain begged of Don Hugo with a heavy sigh, "but it cannot be as you desire it. My men will need to rest soon and to do so at sea is not something they desire. We will put into shore soon and make a camp. It will allow us to have warm food and a dry bed to sleep in. It will be for the best. You will still reach your island as promised, but it will take a day or two longer."

"No," Don Hugo snarled in reply, drawing a pistol as he spoke. With a wavering hand he pointed it at the captain of the ship. "You will do as I command. I must reach the island as soon as possible. I've paid you to take me there and you will do it."

At the sight of the drawn pistol the captain of the craft sighed heavily and shook his head as if with disgust. He then said something in Arabic to his men. Don Hugo did not understand the words but he did understand the actions of the crew. As one the oarsmen raised their oars out of the water and then shipped them aboard the small craft.

"What are you doing?" Don Hugo demanded to know, thrusting his pistol about as he spoke. "You will not stop rowing. You will take me to the island."

"No noble gentleman, we will not take you to the island as you want," the captain declared sternly. "Not when you point a pistol at me and threaten me with harm. You have but one shot and I have a dozen men armed with blades. You must make your choice now. Continue in this manner and you will die."

Don Hugo glanced frantically about him. The crew had stored their oars and they were now turned in their rowing stations and they were all staring at him. Each and every one of them was armed with a short utility knife. The knives were drawn and ready to strike. Trembling with more anger than fright Don Hugo lowered his weapon.

"Good," the captain of the vessel declared once the pistol had been lowered. "I thank Allah that you saw the wisdom to listen to me. We will sail on a bit further down the coast before heading into the shore. You needn't worry though for eventually you will reach the island you seek. It will only take a day or two longer. Now let me get back to my work."

With that the captain barked a few orders to his crew again. In seconds the oars were back in their oarlocks and the crew was bending their backs again to pull the ship through the dark waters. As it began to move once more under the will of the captain, Don Hugo settled himself down again in the bow of the craft. Silently he shook with rage at the insult done to him and he swore revenge upon the captain and his crew. They would pay once they reached the island.

"What do we do now?" Pedro asked his companions in a despondent voice. As Pedro spoke he looked about his cabin and saw that the others were as long faced as he was. It didn't bode well and he sighed heavily in response. Ishmael was the first to speak.

"I still say we should sail for Bona Vista, my lord," the old warrior declared with some confidence in his voice. "It is still the most logical directions for the man to flee."

"If he still believes it to be a safe haven," Don Enrique interjected soberly. "If he does not, the man could have fled anywhere."

"We still need to pick a direction and sail for it," Bartholomew pointed out. "We might end up being wrong again but at least we could be right. We won't know until we try and I for one am not giving up on finding the man. I say we head for Bona Vista and hope for the best."

"And I think we should head for Faro," Don Enrique told everyone with some force in his voice. "It would be our best course of action, Dom Pedro."

"Why do you say so, Don Enrique?" Pedro inquired in a low, tired voice. "What would we gain sailing there?"

"We would gain help in our quest, Dom Pedro," the Spanish nobleman replied with confidence. "It is but a day's sail from here. With the papers in your possession you could command any vessel anchored there. By putting into Faro you could widen the possibilities of where to search. Vessels could be ordered to sea in whatever direction that you desire. If you wish to send ships to the east after that Moorish merchantman then you could do so. If you wanted them to scour the coast of Morocco then again they would do it. You need only present you papers to the harbour master in the port and anything would be possible."

"What you say is true Don Enrique," Ishmael commented before Pedro could reply. "The problem now is that a day has passed since the villain has fled and the chances of finding him are growing slim. Any vessel dispatched from Faro would be two to three days behind him at the best once orders were given and ships were prepared for sea. It would prove a fruitless effort."

"Perhaps," Don Enrique admitted, though reluctantly. "I still feel we should make for Faro and anchor there. At the least I could put ashore with the prisoners we have and take them to the king in Lisbon. From there I could ready my galley for sea and put out from there in support of your hunt."

"True again Don Enrique," Pedro said in agreement, his face remaining drawn and sober, "and because of that I will agree with you. It is late and the night will be upon us soon. Don Hugo might have fled anywhere and by any means. I too feel that he would head to Bona Vista if he still believed it to be a haven, but as you point out the chances are that he has gone elsewhere. For that reason we will put into Faro and present ourselves there to the harbour master. We will do as you suggest. Ships will be recruited and sent out in search of the man and you will take our prisoners to Lisbon. Don Hugo is known to be erratic in what he does and it is possible that he has done the unthinkable and has returned there. I will leave it to you to raise the alarm in my country and yours while I sail on to the island. With luck one of us will be right and the bastard will be brought to ground. Hopefully it will be by my hand and not yours, but I will not bear any grudge if it happens that way. All I care for is the safety of my cousins and the capture of the man."

"As do I, Dom Pedro," Don Enrique stated solemnly.

"Then it is agreed," Pedro responded with a more positive look upon his face. "Bartholomew, go and tell our helmsman what course to take. As for the rest of you, it has been a long day and tomorrow will be longer. Go and rest. I will speak to in the morning."

"As you command Captain," Bartholomew declared as he rose and prepared to leave the cabin. "I'll see to the course change and I'll set the watch so that you can get your rest tonight. Sleep well Dom Pedro."