The following few days were quiet and without the excitements of tempests, fire or kidnapping, but the tension of serving and having to deal with Mr Wicker continued. His days were spent negotiating with Jenny Blade regarding the Firefly/Perseus or conferring and finishing details with Don Scapino, who apparently was going to accompany us on the journey to Cartagena.
Captain Lightower’s days were spent fuming in the brig on board the Medusa. He was joined there, soon enough, by Dr Hatch, who was captured, still sleeping, outside the dilapidated hut where Sophie had been kept prisoner. So out of this world was the doctor, he was incapable of walking the distance back to the Cove and had to be carried in a litter.
It was during this period that I discovered the startling truth about Captain Lightower and the strong hold Mr Wicker had over him.
Mr Wicker was standing on the quay looking over the harbour to where the barque that had been the Firefly was riding at anchor. I was standing beside him.
‘It is a fine irony,’ he smiled, ‘that I should be travelling to Cartagena in that vessel after all.’
‘I do not understand.’
‘I do not expect you do, little Loblolly Boy,’ he said.
‘But,’ I said, considering what he had just told me, ‘you were never going to sail to Cartagena on the Firefly. Were you not negotiating with Mistress Blade to take you on the Medusa?’
‘I was,’ he said easily, ‘but that was before I realised that the Firefly would deliver me to Cartagena without her help.’
This made no sense either.
‘But the Firefly was bound for Jamaica to join Admiral Vernon. It would only have proceeded to Cartagena after the admiral had captured the town.’
Mr Wicker nodded happily.
‘But he did not capture the town, as we have learnt,’ I continued.
‘Let me just say,’ said Mr Wicker, ‘that I had discovered a way to persuade Captain Lightower to take me directly to Cartagena, whether the good admiral had succeeded or not.’
I looked at him in astonishment. But then, Mr Wicker was no ordinary man. He was, as Captain Bass had put it, of the netherworld. I could only imagine that he had called upon his ‘special abilities’.
‘Magic?’ I asked.
Mr Wicker laughed. ‘In this instance, I had no need of magic,’ he said.
‘Oh, quite simply,’ said Mr Wicker easily. ‘I merely suggested to Captain Lightower that if he refused to take me to Cartagena, I would reveal to the world that he was an agent in the pay of Spain.’
‘What?’ I looked at Mr Wicker in astonishment. ‘But then,’ I protested, ‘he would have simply laughed at you and called your bluff.’
‘But he couldn’t,’ said Mr Wicker. ‘Unfortunately, for Captain Lightower at any rate, the accusation is perfectly true.’
‘It cannot be.’
‘It can and is. I had this information on excellent authority,’ said Mr Wicker, ‘none other than my very good and very venomous friend, Don Scapino.’
With this, things began to make much more sense.
‘So even if the Spaniards were in control he would have taken you to Cartagena.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Mr Wicker. ‘He was not pleased about the situation, as you may have noticed, but he had no choice.’
I thought about what might have been.
‘The Spaniards would have arrested the ship?’
‘Of course. It would have been seized as a prize of war.’
‘And the men?’
‘Oh,’ said Mr Wicker, ‘they would no doubt have been thrown into some prison at the fort or put to the sword.’
He said this so matter-of-factly, I was utterly chilled.
‘And me?’
Mr Wicker shrugged. ‘The same, I imagine. Considered like this, you should thank me for a narrow escape.’
I stared at him. That this astrolabe was worth the sacrifice of all on board the Firefly was horrible, and just as horrible was that the astrolabe was worth the theft of my human existence. To cap it all, I was supposed to feel grateful.
‘But what would have happened to Captain Lightower?’
‘Nothing really, I imagine. The Spaniards would have made a play of arresting him and then ransoming him back to the English. He would probably return a hero and ready to carry out more assignments for his new masters.’
At this point he patted his shirt, and I realised that this could have been a reference to the letter Don Scapino had passed to him, the red wax-sealed letter for Captain Lightower.
‘Have you given that letter to Captain Lightower?’ I asked.
Mr Wicker looked at me and laughed. ‘You are such a naïve little loblolly boy,’ he said. ‘Of course I have not and nor will I. That letter is my ace of spades. Captain Lightower was unable to call my bluff, as you put it earlier, because he had no way of knowing what proof of his perfidy I had. The amusing thing is, I had none then.’
I stared at him, almost feeling sorry for the treacherous captain.
‘However,’ added Mr Wicker unnecessarily, ‘now I do.’
‘You told Don Scapino you would give it to him,’ I said.
Again Mr Wicker laughed. ‘You are a one,’ he said. ‘Do you not think that Don Scapino knew exactly what he was doing when he passed me the letter? Un momento!’ He laughed again.
‘If Captain Lightower was as you say a friend of the Spanish and in their pay, I can see why he would face no danger in Cartagena. But what about you? Would you not have been thrown into prison with the men, or worse?’
‘Not at all,’ said Mr Wicker. ‘Why would I? I am a gentleman, a civilian and not in the pay of King George. Besides, I have a powerful friend in Don Scapino, who would have vouched for me.’
Perhaps, I thought. If there were one other person on the planet more self-serving than Mr Wicker, it would have been El Serpiente Don Scapino. He would have vouched for Mr Wicker certainly, but only until he had a better offer.
‘But why would Captain Lightower, given what you have told me, be so desperate now to get to Kingston?’ I asked.
Mr Wicker shrugged. ‘Why would he not? I can only think he has called my bluff finally, deciding that I can have no evidence and that, in any event, I am more interested in Cartagena than in exposing him. He is probably correct. Of course he can know nothing of the letter.’
I nodded, that did make sense.
‘Remember, as far as the world knows,’ said Mr Wicker, ‘Lightower is a loyal officer in His Majesty’s Navy. He tells everybody, does he not? He is too proud and stubborn to give that up to become a freebooter here in the Cove with a noose hanging over his head. To escape to Cartagena would expose his cover, so re-joining the fleet is his best and safest option.’
‘He has gone a strange and foolhardy way about it,’ I observed.
‘He is a foolhardy and unreliable man,’ said Mr Wicker, ‘and I fear his employers are beginning to realise that.’
I could not wait to share this astonishing intelligence with Sophie. Later that morning I found her again on the poop deck of the Medusa with a book in her hand. There were a couple of crewmen nearby which would make it difficult to talk so she laid her book to one side and whispered, ‘Shall we talk in the crow’s nest?’
I liked that idea, saying, ‘I have much to tell you, alarming things about Captain Lightower.’
Sophie looked suitably intrigued.
‘That man’s name is black enough as it is,’ she said, ‘but if there is more to tell, I would be glad to hear it.’
‘Oh, there is,’ I said, ‘much more.’
Sometime later we were high aloft, overlooking the quay and the little town.
Sophie settled her back against the rail and stretched her legs across the platform. ‘You mentioned Captain Lightower, Loblolly Boy?’
‘Mr Wicker believes him to be a Spanish agent,’ I told her, ‘and furthermore he has proof of it.’
She looked at me with astonishment. ‘Even blacker,’ she said. ‘Yet, I would not have believed this.’
‘Of a man who would burn your house down, truss you up and tie you to a pole?’ I reminded her.
‘But to spy for the Spaniards …’ said Sophie.
‘When your mother captured the Firefly,’ I said, ‘it was almost certainly heading for Cartagena and not Kingston. Mr Wicker had blackmailed the captain by threatening to reveal the truth.’
‘My goodness,’ said Sophie.
‘Mr Wicker says I would have probably been locked up in a Spanish dungeon or worse,’ I said.
‘So it was your good fortune my mother captured the ship,’ smiled Sophie.
‘You could say that,’ I replied. ‘Mr Wicker tells me that it was my good fortune he changed me into what you see before you.’
‘Was it not?’ asked Sophie. ‘Remember, it did save your life.’
‘Oh, I know,’ I said, ‘but it has lost me my life as well. He will never change me back. I believe that now.’
We sat in silence for some time allowing the tropic breeze to waft over us. The ship lifted and rose slightly as the sea washed against it, and that movement was pleasantly exaggerated up in our high perch.
I glanced at Sophie as she sat there, eyes closed now to keep the sun at bay. I wondered at her life and how lonely it must be. I had seen few other young people in the Cove and she had not talked of any friends. I guessed there were no brothers or sisters in her life either, and that much of it was spent on the ocean wave. I know the sailors seemed to like her — Irish Pete, Billy and the others — but they could never be boon companions.
Given this, it was little wonder she greeted me with such warmth and was so happy to talk to me.
‘What will your mother do?’ I asked.
Sophie opened her eyes. ‘Do?’
‘With Captain Lightower?’
Sophie sighed. ‘She is very angry with him. Some of the men would like to hang him from the yardarm, but she is mindful that he is a naval officer and the king’s man. To do something like that would bring about the wrath of the navy and …’
I could understand that. The Spaniards cutting off poor Captain Jenkin’s ear was sufficient of an outrage to send the whole British fleet against Portobelo and Cartagena. Hanging the captain would no doubt send Admiral Vernon directly to the Cove, which was only really tolerated I presumed because people like Jenny Blade and the other freebooters harassed and preyed on the Spanish merchantmen.
‘It is a difficulty.’
‘I think she will release the doctor. He is not to blame, really.’ She gave a wan grin. ‘He probably had no idea what he was doing anyway.’
‘But,’ I said, ‘now that we know Captain Lightower is in the pay of the Spanish?’
‘How could we prove it?’ asked Sophie reasonably. ‘You know he is a spy. Mr Wicker certainly knows he is a spy. Who else?’
‘Don Scapino,’ I said.
‘I hardly think we would be able to get that gentleman to testify before an English court martial,’ said Sophie.
I could see what she meant.
‘We need proof,’ said Sophie.
‘Mr Wicker believes he has the proof.’
Sophie looked at me. ‘He does?’
‘Don Scapino gave him a sealed letter addressed to Captain Lightower. Mr Wicker believes the letter contains his orders from his Spanish masters.’
‘Goodness,’ said Sophie. ‘If we could obtain such a letter it would blow the captain right out of the water.’ She looked at me. ‘Could we? Is it possible?’
I shook my head sadly. ‘I very much doubt it,’ I said. ‘It is in Mr Wicker’s possession and I rather understand he means to keep it as a way of continuing to control the captain. He is only interested in his own ends.’
‘So that is that,’ said Sophie disappointedly.
‘You still haven’t answered me,’ I said.
‘I’m sorry, what was the question?’ asked Sophie.
‘Captain Lightower?’
‘Oh,’ said Sophie, ‘he will be kept in the brig until my mother decides.’
‘How long will that be?’
Sophie smiled grimly. ‘Oh, when there are big decisions to be made, my mother can sometimes take forever to make up her mind.’
That afternoon, Mr Wicker, along with the one-eyed Spaniard, visited the Medusa. I visited, too, although of course only Mr Wicker and Sophie, who was also present, knew that.
Once the party was seated in the wardroom, Mr Wicker explained the purpose of his visit.
‘Could you tell me, Mistress Blade, whether the Firefly has been stripped of its baggage and cargo?’
‘Are you still worried about your cabin trunk, Mr Wicker?’ asked Jenny Blade.
‘I am rather, ma’am,’ replied Mr Wicker, ‘but I am also concerned with Captain Lightower’s cabin trunk, should he have owned one, and the contents of his cabin, or more precisely his wardrobe.’
Jenny Blade looked at him curiously. ‘As far as I know nothing has been distributed yet,’ she said, ‘not with my instructions, at any rate. Mr Griff?’
‘No, ma’am,’ said Mr Griff. ‘All is as found.’
‘Good,’ said Mr Wicker. ‘Very good.’
Mr Griff and Jenny Blade exchanged glances and I could see they were puzzled by this interest in Captain Lightower’s belongings. In truth, so was I. I did not think Sophie would have shared my information about the captain’s being a Spanish agent. How could she have, without having to explain me?
‘Do you,’ asked Jenny Blade, ‘have any particular reason for this interest in Captain Lightower’s belongings?’
‘I do, ma’am. I certainly do.’
‘Would you care to enlighten me?’
‘It is a little complicated, ma’am,’ said Mr Wicker easily, ‘but I’m sure that once I explain you will understand.’
‘You are teasing me, sir.’
‘That is not my intention, ma’am.’
‘Ma’am, I know that you consider my plan to travel to Cartagena foolhardy and dangerous.’
‘That, sir, is because it undoubtedly is.’
‘I am not unaware of the dangers, ma’am, and so that is why I have decided to travel to Cartagena in the disguise of Edward Lightower.’
I was surprised by this announcement, but Jenny Blade and Mr Griff were astounded. The lieutenant laughed and Mistress Blade replied, ‘I’m bound to say, Mr Wicker, I can think of no more dangerous or foolhardy enterprise than this!’
However, Mr Wicker merely exchanged a smiling glance with Don Scapino. ‘Perhaps it might appear so, ma’am, but only if you are unacquainted with the real character of Captain Lightower …’
‘Go on.’
‘I have known for a considerable time, ma’am, and Don Scapino here will verify the fact, that our Captain Lightower is and has been a secret agent of the Spanish and in the service of King Philip for a considerable time. Perhaps he should more properly be known as el capitán.’
This time Jenny Blade’s surprise was even greater. She quickly turned to the smiling Don Scapino. ‘Is this true, señor?’
‘As much, señora, as it grieves me to betray my country, I must confirm the fact …’
‘The captain was, indeed, preparing to take me directly to Cartagena when your action intervened,’ said Mr Wicker. ‘My reasoning, then, is as follows. As Nicholas Wicker, English gentleman, arriving at Cartagena I would immediately be the object of suspicion, particularly in the current circumstances, as you yourself have pointed out.’
Jenny Blade smiled.
‘But were I to impersonate the captain, I would be welcomed as one of their own. Instead of suspicion, I would be no doubt fêted and celebrated.’
‘But would you not be recognised as an impostor?’
Don Scapino answered the question. ‘Not at all, señora. The captain would be known only to the commandante as a name. His likeness would be a mystery, but with my endorsement — I who am known — Señor Wicker will be accepted as Captain Lightower and welcomed.’
Jenny Blade glanced at Mr Griff, shook her head and smiled.
‘It seems to me hardly less foolhardy,’ she said. ‘What is it that drives you to such lengths to obtain a mere astrolabe?’
Mr Wicker smiled then shrugged, ‘Consider me whimsical, ma’am,’ he said. ‘A whimsy and a foible, no more.’
That was hardly satisfying, but it would have to satisfy Jenny Blade, for Mr Wicker added nothing more.
‘Ma’am,’ said Mr Griff softly, ‘this intelligence regarding the captain, if it could be proved, changes things considerably. The man is not only a fire-raiser and a kidnapper, he is now revealed as a traitor.’
Jenny Blade nodded. ‘Until it could be proved,’ she said, ‘he is not yet revealed.’ She turned to her visitors. ‘Gentlemen, I presume you have written proof of these charges against the captain.’
‘Alas, no,’ said Mr Wicker, after a quick glance at Don Scapino.
I could not resist a quick look at Sophie who was sitting in one corner, intrigued by these revelations. She caught my eye and raised an eyebrow at Mr Wicker’s blatant lie.
‘Do you consider that such proof might be found among Lightower’s belongings?’
Mr Wicker shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but I very much doubt it. Given the unpredictability of events on a warship I would be surprised if he would leave incriminating evidence behind him. No, I merely want to acquire his uniform and identifying documentation.’
‘Even so,’ said Jenny Blade, ‘I think we should search his cabin, and indeed the entire vessel. If this could be proved, it would solve the difficult problem of what to do with the wretch, for I would deliver him to Admiral Vernon forthwith.’
‘You have a problem with what to do with the wretch?’ asked Don Scapino in surprise. ‘Why not hang him and throw him to the sharks?’
Jenny Blade looked at him with distaste.
‘Believe me,’ she said, ‘I have wished to do so, but …’
‘I have an even better idea,’ laughed Don Scapino. ‘I suspect I know why you feel you cannot hang an English naval officer, but “Captain Lightower” will shortly be visiting Cartagena. Why don’t you hang “Nicholas Wicker” the arrant rogue you have locked up in your brig?’
‘That, señor,’ said Jenny Blade coldly, ‘is a perfectly odious proposal, and I prefer not to hear it.’
Her coldness seemed not to affect the Spaniard’s good humour, for he continued to laugh at his suggestion, and was still smiling as he stood up to take his leave.
Although Captain Lightower’s cabin was searched from top to bottom no evidence of his double existence was discovered as my master had predicted. However, Mr Wicker did locate the captain’s naval uniforms and various documents relating to his commission and was well satisfied. The Perseus was once again re-named the Firefly and brought to the quayside to be provisioned for the relatively short journey to Cartagena de Indias.
A day or so later, with a westering breeze, the ship set sail, negotiated the narrow entrance to the harbour and thence out into the Caribbean Sea.
The journey was uneventful. Mr Wicker seemed to enjoy sporting the uniform of a navy captain and spent a lot of time on the quarterdeck scanning the horizon with a telescope or promenading with the odious Spaniard. I was more or less free to find my own amusement. Besides, much of their conversation was now conducted in Spanish, a language which I discovered Mr Wicker seemed to speak quite well. I supposed they did this to hide what they were saying from the crew.
Before we left, I had spent as much time as I could with Sophie because shortly I would leave her and travel into the unknown. I knew Mr Wicker had plans for me, but they were equally mysterious, and could well conflict with my own appointed mission.
How could I scheme to snaffle the astrolabe, when I did not know how Mr Wicker himself planned to carry out the theft?
Most of these problems I had not discussed with Sophie. She knew of the astrolabe, of course, through her mother, but I could not tell her of my commission to steal it from Mr Wicker without telling her of Captain Bass. For the same reason, I could not tell her of the astrolabe’s astonishing power and why exactly Mr Wicker so desired it. Some part of me, too, was still unsure of Captain Bass and his motives. This made me unsure of where my own best interests lay. Everything was very, very complicated.
Instead we had talked of her life, her lost house, her hopes and her future. Sophie, I learnt, had the sea in her blood. She spoke of all she wanted to see: the lands of snow to the north, the lands of silver to the south, and all of the new worlds in between. When I told her how I could fly so high that the world spread beneath me like a map, her eyes had shone and I could feel her sudden envy, hard and sharp. This desire could hardly have been otherwise: Jenny Blade and Billy Blade, her pirate father, were sailors and the children of sailors.
Her father’s life, I learnt, like my father’s, had been lost. Mine at the bottom of the sea, her father’s at the end of a rope.
Above all things, Sophie did not want Jenny Blade to share her husband’s fate.
‘Bring me proof,’ she’d begged. ‘Bring me proof of Captain Lightower’s treachery. Such proof could redeem my mother.’