THE SOLDIERS escorted us up a narrow channel through the rock to reach the fort on the hill overlooking the bay. Two twelve-pound cannons stood as sentinels atop the rock, ready to cannonade anyone rushing the fort. Men would have to pass up the cleft two by two if they made it past the twelve pounders and then could be easily picked off by musket fire.
Larger cannons, two hull-shattering twenty-four pounders and one thirty-two pounder, which must have been decommissioned from a warship, sat nestled against the fortification on the edge of the cliff, and would give any ship firing from the bay pause, assuming attacking forces were able to penetrate the bay, which housed Haitian warships also. I understood even more deeply what made Tortuga a desirable stronghold—defensible by sea and ground, with a natural source of clean spring water. Blockade and siege would be the only significant threat, and the amount of animals I’d seen in town would be enough to feed the fort for some time, not to mention the sounders of pigs I was sure had been husbanded in the interior jungle of the island.
“Benjamin, what are you doing?” Sun asked in a hushed voice as the soldiers thrust us through the postern gate and into the fort proper.
“Where you go, I go,” I said stubbornly, though I was realizing it would have, perhaps, been more intelligent to stay with the others where I could be of some use to Sun on the outside. Inside, I was as useless as usual. Actually, being inside might be the best plan, because this would at least keep my ineptitude from slowing down the rest of our friends.
I stopped, then was pushed roughly forward down the last few stairs into a small eight-cell jail that smelled like piss and vomit. Our friends. When had I started thinking of Marisol and Benji as friends? Black Miguel had been a friend, but when had Dom Miguel become one? And Hardanguer and Cookie and the rest? I examined my feelings as the soldiers put Sun and I in a two-man cell with an empty bucket and some musty hay.
Perhaps because we’d put up no struggle at all, the soldiers removed our shackles, gave us a second bucket of water with a tin cup, and one wool blanket each. I used mine as a pad and sat against the wall. Compared to our previous accommodations aboard Edwin’s Fury, I felt almost as though I should offer the soldiers coin for our stay. However, thinking of Sun and my first imprisonment together reminded me of Martio, and what he had done to me, and how I had killed him for it. Perhaps I did belong in a cell. I was a murderer too, and were my reasons so different from Sun’s? We’d both defended ourselves in our own battles.
“You’re so quiet, Benjamin. What are you thinking about?” Sun put his blanket down next to mine and joined me in leaning back against the stone wall.
I shook my head, thinking he didn’t need to bear my burdens when he had his own, but then he put his hand over mine, I clasped it, and moonlight flooding in through the high, barred window left a stripe of light across our entwined fingers. We were matelots now. That meant sharing everything, including a troubled mind.
“I was thinking of the last time we were imprisoned together.”
“And Martio.”
I nodded. This was the first time I’d heard him say Martio’s name with such little emotion. I studied him—the sharp angles of his face had softened somewhat from eating Cookie’s meals, and his braids were now a white-blond cascade tied back by my ribbon. He looked older, civilized in his modern dress, calm and collected. The savage fire that had burned behind his eyes when I had met him was banked.
“You’ve changed,” I said tactlessly. I realized I was still drunk and apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….”
“No. You are right, Benjamin. I have changed. You showed me something better than my island—your companionship, your love. And then you showed me something bigger than the two of us. The friendship of men. I had forgotten what it was like to be part of a crew. The Fury reminded me what it feels like to be one of many. And meeting those other matelots at the Perle… meeting all those people who are different, who are like us….”
He ran out of words and pressed my hand to his lips. I knew what he meant. Tonight had been beyond anything I’d yet experienced. I had been in public, honest about what and who I was, who I loved, with others living their true selves openly as well, doing what I did best—playing the fiddle, gambling, making friends. And, well, as present circumstances showed, getting others into trouble.
I moaned. “What are we going to do?”
Sun pulled me into his arms. I lay on my side and rested my head on his chest. The blue coat was scratchy against my cheek—I much preferred us both naked, but I dared not undress him when soldiers could come and take us away at any moment.
“This is God’s will, Benjamin.” Sun’s voice was quiet and resolute. He rested his chin on the top of my head.
“What do you mean?” I decided not to tell him my suspicions that Artur’s purse had been so fat because he had informed the government we were here, not if Sun finally wanted to talk of God and God’s will.
“When I saw the soldiers and I felt calm, I knew it was time.”
Was he talking about some kind of epiphany? “I still don’t understand.”
He stroked my hair, which was long enough now to be an unruly mess of curls but not long enough to be ribboned. “The time for answering for what I have done is here. This night is the test before the dawn. Tomorrow I will know how God has judged me.”
“This is my fault, Sun.”
“Why do you say this?”
“If I’d chosen the island, if I’d only gone back to the tree house with you, none of this would have happened. This is a poor way of thanking you for saving my life. I would be dead without you, and now because I’ve convinced you that God is a forgiving God, here we are. Perhaps facing our deaths.” Would Tortuga’s governor condemn us both? What did our contract mean for him?
Sun kissed my forehead. “You’re wrong, Benjamin. I took you from the beach, gave you water, food, but you were the one who saved me. It was an animal, a murdering beast that took you into its cave because of a need for human touch. But you taught me so much—showed me so much that I was missing. Not simply another person to share my life with, but a whole world I had turned myself away from. A self I had locked away. You freed me. Saved me.”
I sighed against his chest, then hugged him.
“Pray with me?” he asked, his voice rumbling against my ear.
I nodded and kissed him, and then we placed our folded blankets in the streaming moonlight and looked up into the barred, silver face of the moon, as though it were God’s eye. We went through the Lord’s Prayer together aloud, then each prayed silently, holding hands. Night deepened further, and I realized he was right—the governor must have already been abed when we’d been arrested. Our arraignment would wait until the dawn.
I prayed for God’s forgiveness of my sins, of Sun’s sins, and for acceptance of our love. I prayed for Dom Miguel and Marisol and Captain Benji. I prayed for Abellard and Cookie and Hardanguer and Quinn. I even prayed for Edwin’s and Martio’s souls. I prayed for the men Marisol had killed helping us, the men who died in the mutiny, all the men who had died coming to Sun’s island. I prayed for Lovelie and Cuicatl and the patrons and the owner of the Perle, whose name I either never knew or had forgotten. I prayed for my father’s soul and that he would understand I loved Sun, and even with all the other things we both were, we were good men with remorse and caring for our fellow man, deserving of happiness and life. And most of all, I prayed that last was true.
BRIGHT TROPICAL sunshine streaming in from our narrow window woke me, and I blinked, expecting a headache that wasn’t there. Sun and I had drunk deeply from the cool spring water the soldiers left us, and it had not only worked to refresh and sober me somewhat during our late-night vigil, but it also must have been a tonic against pot verdugo, because I felt well, if a bit stiff as we roused ourselves.
Sun was curled under my arm, tight against my side, straw in his hair and a peaceful expression on his face as he blinked slowly awake. His eyes were the light gray-blue of a dawning sky when the sunlight touched them. Perfection. He was my cherub. I wanted to kiss him and never stop, but I heard the sound of approaching boots.
Ten soldiers marched into the jail, with one lieutenant, filling the narrow spaces between the cells as we got to our feet. I thought the number a bit excessive for only two prisoners. Their black uniforms were meticulously lint-free and pressed, brass and braid all in order—a clean-shaven, professional lot. I didn’t recognize any of them from the night before. A duty change, perhaps.
“Benjamin Lector?” the lieutenant addressed us.
“Aye,” I said.
“Sólmundur Thorvaldson?”
“Já.” Sun brushed the hay from his coat.
“You’re to come with us to be seen before the governor.”
“Well, no time like the present,” I quipped.
“Do you wish to refresh yourselves?”
I said yes, and a soldier came forward with a pail of water and a shaving knife and cream. Another approached with a buffed tin that served as a mirror. Sun and I cleaned up. He didn’t need a shave, but the shadow was dark on my cheeks, and I was glad of the chance to look my most respectable. I could do nothing about the wild state of my curls except wet my hands and comb them as flat as I could make them. We were both shipshape in short order. I thanked the soldiers with heartfelt gratitude. They shackled us again, nevertheless.
“Lead on,” I said, and the twelve of us left the jail.