PIRATE: Privateer Read Free

back to happier times when he and his friends had sailed the Pacific so that he could reach Maria, the woman he loved, and ask her to share his life. To his delight
she had agreed, even though he was at risk of being taken up for piracy. For Maria, who was Spanish-born, it had meant deserting her employer, an important colonial official who was likely to be
vindictive. Together they had chosen to come to remote Tortuga, hoping to find a safe haven beyond the reach of normal laws, a place where they could live together quietly. But Tortuga had been a
cruel disappointment. The fort which had once defied foreign navies and given the place its semi-independence was in ruins. Most of the population had moved away, preferring the French colonies at
Petit Goâve and Saint-Domingue. Those who stayed were the dregs. They passed their time in sordid drinking dens, spending the last of their booty. The settlement was reduced to little more
than a cluster of squalid huts and muddy lanes where wild forest pigs roamed freely.
    Hector turned in his seat and looked back at the
Morvaut
. Little about the vessel gave him confidence. She was a small boat of thirty tons with a single mast, shabby, and with only one
tiny cannon. That meant she was virtually unarmed. A hostile ship of force would overwhelm her in minutes.
    Yet Maria had insisted that he use the last of the money they had brought back from the Pacific to charter the
Morvaut
to go fishing the wreck of a Spanish galleon that was rumoured to be
lying on the Vipers.
    ‘We must try something,’ she had said. They had been standing at the door of the two-room shack that was all they had been able to afford to rent. ‘Otherwise we’ll be
trapped in this wretched place, living miserably. Dan and the others will agree to go fishing the Vipers. They are getting bored.’
    ‘But you and I will be apart, maybe for months.’
    ‘I waited three years for you to come and find me. I can endure a few more weeks’ absence.’
    ‘What if we can’t find the wreck, or a gale catches us on the reef while we are searching? We ourselves could be cast away.’
    She had laid a hand on his arm, looked into his eyes and said firmly, ‘Hector, I’ve seen your skill with charts. You can bring a vessel safely through those reefs. That’s what
you excel at, just as Dan can dive, or Jacques can cook, and Jezreel can wield a backsword.’
    He had still been doubtful. ‘The Kergonans own the only vessel available. And they are demanding advance payment of the charter, plus a half share in anything we recover. They’re a
bunch of grasping crooks.’
    She had leaned up and kissed him. ‘Yesterday I happened to meet Anne-Marie Kergonan on the foreshore. She told me that you had been discussing the charter with her. She was very friendly.
She told me that
morvaut
is the Breton word for a cormorant. Hector, take it as an omen – it’s a greedy bird but one that gorges on its catch.’
    Hector was wakened from his reverie by a slight lurch. The skiff had reached Dan’s marker buoy and Jezreel was unshipping his oars. The big man picked up the kedge anchor lying on the
bottom boards. ‘Ready?’ he asked. Hector checked that the coil of anchor line was free and nodded.
    Jezreel dropped the anchor overboard, and the last few fathoms of cable ran out with a thrumming sound. As soon as the anchor had settled on the seabed, the big man waved to the pinnace. The
Kergonan brothers, helped by Jacques, began taking in the slack. The
Morvaut
was too small to carry a windlass so they were hauling by hand. The pinnace slowly began to take up position over
the spoil ground.
    *
    W ITHIN AN HOUR they knew they had struck lucky. Dan came across a pile of more than a hundred pieces of eight on the sea floor where a canvas bag had
rotted and burst. In the next three dives he brought up a rich haul of tableware – jugs, spoons, bowls, forks and goblets, all in massive silver.
    ‘I wonder if any of the