Buccaneer

Prologue

It was a stormy day on the Arabian Sea. Dark clouds hung low on the horizon and an angry wind scoured the decks with salt spray. William Kidd stood on board the Adventure Galley, surveying his prize. The merchant vessel sailed under Armenian colors, but carried French passes guaranteeing its protection, and that made it a fair game. They’d taken it with little resistance offered by its crew. If its cargo holds carried half the wealth he hoped, he would be a rich man.

“Captain, may I have a word?”

He turned to see an ashen-face Joseph Palmer standing behind him, shifting his weight from side to side and looking about as if fearful of being overheard.

“What is it, Palmer?”

“We have a problem.” The sailor dropped his gaze, reluctant to continue.

“What is it? It can’t be the cargo. The ship was riding too low in the water for her to be empty.”

“No, Captain, it isn’t that. It’s the finest haul we’ve ever made. Gold and silver, silk and satin, and all sorts of fine things.”

Kidd tried not to let relief show on his face. It would not do to reveal that he’d had even the slightest doubt. Loyalty among his crew was tenuous at best, and the dogs would bite at the first show of weakness on his part.

“So, what is this problem?”

Palmer cleared his throat and looked up at the gray sky.

“It is not a French vessel.”

Cold fear trickled down Kidd’s spine. The man had to be mistaken.

“It is an Indian ship,” Palmer continued, “captained by an Englishman.”

“That cannot be. It is under French protection. French!”

“It’s the truth all the same.” Palmer shrugged. “The captain of their vessel, he wants to see you.”

“Then he may come and see me. I will show him all the proper courtesies.” His thoughts raced. He was a privateer, not a pirate, but, after this incident, it might not be seen that way back in England. Perhaps he could reach an arrangement with this captain. “Bring him aboard.”

“There’s a problem with that. We tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t stop fighting. Finally, Bradinham stuck him in the gut. He’s in a bad way, and I don’t think he’ll last much longer. He says it’s important. He said he…” Palmer stopped and scratched at his chin whiskers. “What was the word? It was something like ignore.”

“Implore.”

“That’s the one.” Palmer’s expression brightened. “Shall I take you there?”

Kidd saw no way other than to face the problem and work his way out of it.

“Very well, sailor. Let us go.”

The wounded captain sat propped up on the bed in his cabin. His quarters were austere, not at all befitting a man of his rank, Kidd thought. Blood soaked through the heavy bandages wrapped around his abdomen, and loss of blood had drained him of any color he might have had. He forced a smile as Kidd came through the door.

“Be welcome, Captain.” His voice was as thin as old parchment. “Please, close the door.”

Puzzled by this courteous reception, Kidd complied.

“I understand you wish to see me.”

The man’s gray eyes, glassy with shock, locked on his.

“Are you a man of God, Captain Kidd?”

It was not a question he would have expected, considering the circumstances.

“Of course,” Kidd replied.

“You are needed to do God’s work.” A series of painful coughs racked the captain’s body, and red froth oozed from the corners of his mouth. “I need you to deliver something to England. It must not be lost or fall into the wrong hands.” He handed Kidd a canvas bag. Inside was an ivory document case, very old and ornately carved. Bound to it was a sheet of parchment with instructions on where and to whom to deliver it.

Kidd frowned. The man’s urgency indicated this was something of great value. Perhaps he could profit from this transaction.

“Captain Kidd, please listen to me.” The man could scarcely manage a whisper now. His time was short. “Do not think to circumvent God’s will. That way leads to ruin.”

Kidd nodded. He was above such superstitious nonsense, but no harm in humoring a dying man.

“Believe me.” He pulled down the neck of his shirt, revealing a brand on his left breast. He was a hairy man, and the brand was now a pale scar, but Kidd recognized the symbol immediately.

Surprised, he took an involuntary step backward, his head swimming, and clutched the wall for support.

“It can’t be,” he gasped. “They are all dead!”

The dying captain managed a weak smile.

“Not quite. Not yet.”