Chance the Winds of Fortune Read Free Page A

one of those galleons that sunk in that hurricane off the straits. He managed to survive somehow when his ship went down. In fact, he was one of the only survivors, and he saw it as some kind of portent against returning to Spain, and his first wife and family. So he deserts the fleet and stays here in the Indies.”
    â€œAnd?” Conny said, hurrying Alastair along.
    â€œAnd since he remembered where the galleon had gone down, he decided to put some of that gold to good use, and over the years he looted it. Had himself a private, undersea treasury to plunder for over a quarter of a century. But, like most guilty folk, he found his conscience when on his death bed and wanted forgiveness for his sins. Bared his soul, as well as the location of that strongbox with the map of the sunken treasure ship inside.”
    â€œCoooee! What a blackguard he was.” Conny whistled between his teeth. “You think he found the gold under the bones of his old mates?” he asked, his mind lingering on the more gruesome aspects of the story. “But, Mr. Marlowe, sir, if this other cap’n had it, then how come our cap’n found the map? Wouldn’t the slaver have found it first?”
    â€œFrom what the captain said,” Alastair explained, to set at rest young Conny’s anxieties, “the Danish captain had just come across this will. The Spaniard was his wife’s late father, and she’d kept the will hidden for many a year because of the disgrace of her father’s perfidy, as well as the humiliating discovery of her own illegitimacy. Over the years the Spaniard had become quite a respectable planter, and the daughter didn’t want to sully the family’s good name, or her own.”
    Conny frowned thoughtfully. “Why would the Danish captain risk losin’ such a thing, Mr. Marlowe?” he asked, bewildered at such an incredible occurrence. “I’d sure have locked it up tight.”
    â€œWhen you’ve got the fever in a card game, you never think you’re going to lose,” Alastair explained. “Besides, maybe the Dane thought it was just another fool’s dream. He probably thinks the captain’s the bigger fool for accepting it. He won’t give it a second thought, Conny,” Alastair reassured him. “Those slavers always seem to have well-lined purses. He’s making his fortune that way.”
    â€œThey’re not very nice ships, Mr. Marlowe,” Conny said quietly, his blue eyes shadowed as he remembered his voyage on a slaver off the coast of Africa. “Them slavers are real bad people, Mr. Marlowe. Real bad,” he muttered as if he were hearing the echoes of chained slaves groaning as they died below decks.
    â€œI know, Conny,” Alastair said awkwardly, knowing there was nothing he could say to help this boy, who had seen things far beyond his own experiences. “Sure hope that Spaniard didn’t have too expensive tastes,” he said now with an exaggerated look of concern. “I’d like to think he left some of them Spanish doubloons for us to be spendin’!”
    â€œAye, Mr. Marlowe,” Conny agreed readily, his face lightening at the thought of that sunken treasure. “’Tis ours now.”
    Alastair glanced over to where Dante Leighton was leaning negligently against the taffrail, his thoughts known only to himself as he stared toward the east, his gray eyes narrowed against the blinding glare on the water. Alastair didn’t think the captain had changed much over the years, at least not physically, for his dark, chestnut hair was streaked by the sun, not by age, and he could still wear the same size breeches he had worn nine years ago. He was a remarkably handsome man, his features classical in their near perfection, yet there was an underlying strength and hardness to the deeply tanned face that gave it its look of character. Dante was the type of man the ladies always found