Chapter Eight

 

SINCE THE PLAZA WAS NEAR the harbor, Santiago suggested to Martin and Charlie that they first go back to the Gypsy once more to see if anyone had heard any news about Adam—or maybe he had returned. Unfortunately, there was no word of him.

They went straight from there to the plaza, and Santiago took Martin and Charlie to the first place he thought of for getting information—and it happened to be the fonda where Adam had eaten earlier that day. The workers said they had many Americans dining there that morning, but they weren’t sure if the boy they were looking for had been among them.

Next the captain led them to a couple of the vendors with the largest stalls full of wares—they tended to attract visitors. Again, no luck.

Finally, Santiago spotted a peanut vendor enter the plaza.

“Gracias a Dios!” he said. “I know this man. I was looking for him earlier, but he was not here,” he explained to Martin and Charlie.

Immediately, he strode over to him, with the young men in tow, and began to speak very rapidly in Spanish. Martin and Charlie were completely lost as to what they were saying. Eventually, the peanut vendor motioned towards the northwest gate of the plaza, and they began to think he may have helpful information.

Santiago then explained to the boys what the man had said. “He thinks the boy you are looking for was here earlier this morning, trying to ask around about something, but he could not understand what he wanted to know, since he does not speak English.”

“That’s great news! Did he say where he went?” asked Martin.

The captain took a deep breath. “It is not so great news. This could be very bad. He says that he saw the boy go with a man who is one of these bandits like I mentioned to you.”

“What? Where would they have gone?” asked Charlie.

“This I do not know,” said Santiago. He thanked the peanut vendor so he could go back to making money, then said to the young men, “He said he saw them leave through the northwest gate there, but that does not tell us much. It goes in many directions beyond that point, so we cannot know where they went. All we can do is start searching and hope we find something that will help us. If we have no luck, then we will put up a reward for information about the boy.”

“When you say he was a bandit,” said Martin, “what kind of bandit is he? I just don’t understand why Adam would’ve gone off with somebody like that.”

“What was the boy doing here this morning? You say he was looking for this Alonso Cordova? How? Does he even speak Spanish?”

Martin and Charlie both shook their heads.

“Then he was needing to find someone who speaks English,” Santiago observed. “This man might be one who preys on foreigners. It is impossible to say where they might have gone, but the sooner we start looking for them, the better.”

They left back out through the southeast gate. Their horses were tied up near there. Santiago paid the man who was watching them, and they all mounted up and were about to leave when they heard one of the crew members of the Gypsy calling out to them, out of breath.

It was Jones. “I’ve been all over the place searchin for you lot. Look at this!”

He handed Martin something that looked like a note. The wax seal had been broken, so it had obviously been already read by Jones and whoever else was on the Gypsy when it arrived.

Martin tried to read it aloud. He strained at the penmanship, but he was able to make out at least the start of it. “‘We having you friend. He is safe for now, but if you wanting him back, deliver twelve hundred pesos or’—what does this say?” He showed the letter to Santiago.

“It says dos veces—two times that in bienes de calidad—quality goods to the place on this marked map by tomorrow morning before amanecer—daybreak. After that time, within six hours we will . . .” He struggled to read what was next in the letter. “¡Ay! ¡Que un palurdo! This man writes like a child! I think it says they will be delivering him somewhere near the plaza by noon. At the bottom it says if we do not meet their demands, they will kill him and only deliver his head.”

“Twelve hundred pesos. How many pounds is that?” asked Martin.

“I think it is about four pesos to a pound, so that would be three hundred pounds,” answered Santiago.

“Good Lord!” exclaimed Charlie. “We don’t have that kind of money lyin around! We’d have to go into the revenue from the cargo.”

“I would think that was the purpose of this little exercise,” said Santiago. “Men like these, they know cargo ships are on strict schedules, so they do not worry much about the authorities getting involved. They do not demand an enormous ransom, but it is still quite a lot. Enough to make them a handsome profit, but not so much that many are unwilling to pay it just so they can be on their way.”

“What choice do we have, then?” asked Charlie. “Let’s go back and talk to my brother and arrange the payment. We obviously can’t go back without Adam. Even if Emmanuel doesn’t kill us, Mary Fletcher will.”

“No, you idiot,” said Martin dismissively. “We can’t just deliver the money. We have no guarantee that they’ll even return Adam like they say. They’re criminals. It’s not like we can trust ’em!”

Santiago nodded. “Your friend is right. We need to go back to the ship and get a few more men. Then we will make a plan. We will get your friend back, but that is not all. We are going to put a stop to these criminals. They are a pestilence in Havana, and I am going to see to it that they are brought to justice.”