“Har har.”
“Oh, I see. No facial hair yet?”
“Alicia…”
She moved off after the warning, cooling her heels until Crouch finished writing down all he remembered of the maps, and Caitlyn found something useful on her computer. She found it hard to stop pacing, impossible to stop and sit. The training in her demanded action, not idleness, and the recent combat only raised her adrenalin.
“C’mon guys. Get a move on. Hey, Rob, wanna wrestle for money?”
Russo, cut out of the same cloth as Alicia, looked like he might be considering it. Then Caitlyn asked everyone to gather around. Alicia took a look out the window at the perfect Jamaican coastline, the dark outline of palm trees and the just visible rolling surf. Idyllic visions didn’t suit her either, but just sometimes she wished they did.
“What do you have?” She approached Caitlyn.
“Henry Morgan’s life. Recapping a few details, he amassed such a great fortune in a relatively short period. Nobody seems to know much about his youth, save that he spent it in Wales, UK, where his family owned a large farm that hasn’t changed an awful lot since. Morgan grew up quite hard, it’s believed, and came to Jamaica in 1658, marking himself as a man of valor. More used to weapons than literature, he took to the life of the seaman without issue. It appears he initially came to take part in Cromwell’s plan to invade Hispaniola. His first command was in 1665.”
“As a pirate?” Alicia wanted to know.
“He was never officially a pirate. England classed him a ‘privateer’, but who needs semantics? No, in 1665 he was still learning his trade. It appears when his captain was caught and executed by the Spanish, the crew elected Morgan as their leader.”
“And so it began,” Healey said, still gingerly touching his neck.
“Want me to bandage that for you?” Alicia tried to be thoughtful.
The young man blanched. “Um, no thanks. Have you even had medical training?”
“Bit of field strapping. Bit of under-fire triage. Hell, a neck’s a neck, right? Just wrap something around it nice and tight.”
Caitlyn was reading further ahead. “It appears Morgan fell into debt whilst partying in Jamaica’s Port Royal. But he still had letters of marque from England, and was able to stay out at sea and pillage until the entire crew had enough to pay them off. They must have been bloody huge…” Caitlyn shook her head.
“What? Why?” Russo moved his huge head like a rotating stone statue.
“Well, they already had over fifty thousand pieces of eight from the previous efforts. Now, they made the decision to strike at a city that harbored a considerable treasure. Porto Bello. And that’s where Morgan’s real pirating days begin.”
At that moment, Crouch spoke up. “I have about as much written down as I can remember and some rudimentary drawings of coastlines. It’s not great, but will have to do. And Leno did tell me that the maps were more about the writing anyway, not the sketches and steps from some landmark to another as more modern day works would have you believe. There is a big gap between how pirates were and what they did, and how they were then perceived after that one famous work of Robert Louis Stevenson.”
“Treasure Island?” Russo asked.
“You can read?” Alicia gasped.
“Yes. Stevenson romanced the pirates of the old image and gave them an entirely new image.”
“And the treasure maps?” Healey prompted.
“Well there’s no dirty great X, which is a shame.” Crouch smiled slightly. “But the script, or at least that which I can remember, should set us in the right direction. One thing Leno did tell me; the maps need to be read in order. Morgan wanted whoever followed, wife, children, whomever, to follow just one path.”
“And we’re to believe this great liar, this bandit and murderer, is telling the truth?” Russo wondered.
Crouch shrugged. “Maybe there is no treasure,” he said. “But if that’s the case, my friend, where did all his loot go?”
Russo struggled for an answer. Alicia told him to relax before he burst something then turned to Caitlyn. “You got anything else?”
“Well, Porto Bello is the real starting place.”
“And where is that?”
“Panama,” Caitlyn said as if everyone should know.
“Big place,” Crouch prompted her.
“To put it into perspective, Porto Bello was the third main city in the New World at the time. And well-guarded. Morgan had balls, for sure. It’s quite a story, the attack on the town, the trip upriver because of the shallow bay, but not for tonight.”
Alicia flicked her eyes toward the window where a faint purplish smudge was beginning to show. “It’s not tonight anymore.” She sighed. “What a first day in the Caribbean.”
“Didn’t live up to your expectations?” Healey said with a grim smile.
“Well, I usually save the gun battles for the second week away.”
“Anyway,” Caitlyn said. “To show you the kind of man Morgan was — the governor of Panama sent a message asking how he’d overcome such a larger force of men and asked him not to attack Panama City. He also included a jewel with the note. Morgan sent him a pistol in return and said he’d be coming to reclaim it later. Now, more crucially, Morgan stayed in Porto Bello for over two months.”
“Why is that crucial?” Healey asked quickly.
“Because, dopey, it gave him time. Time… to do anything. My guess is he wasn’t drinking the whole time, though the man had a huge reputation as a drinker.”
“You mean he had time to hide the bulk of his treasure?”
“Now you’re talking. The take for this town alone was at least two hundred thousand pieces of eight, and that included the ransoming of prisoners. You see, these pirates or privateers, they were more ruthless than most of us know. Don’t be taken in by Johnny Depp and co.”
Alicia flicked at Healey’s ear. “Beauty don’t come with brains, eh kiddo? And Caitlyn, stop with the dissing of the Depp.”
Crouch stepped forward. “All right, that’s all well and good. But the maps are to be followed in a strict order. How do we know Porto Bello comes first?”
Caitlyn turned around in her seat. “How about the map?”
Crouch now showed them the work he’d been doing. “Well, take a look. This is all I can remember seeing, but it’s not a bad start to a pirate treasure hunt, deadly as it may yet become.”
He laid several sheets of paper out on the table.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The team browsed through the various creations Crouch had made. Caitlyn sighed and then laughed a little as she handled the sheets of paper.
“Problem?” Crouch asked.
“I’ve seen better coastline drawings,” Alicia said. “Just sayin’.”
“Nothing wrong with them,” Caitlyn said. “But I’m from the current age, Michael. All the maps I use are digital and can’t be touched. I’m a researcher and might have started off picking through dusty shelves but the only dust I touch these days is on top of my computer. It feels odd, handling real paper research.”
“I have to say,” Russo spoke out, “that I don’t see why we should follow them in order. Are you saying one may be a red herring? Or that they are deliberately jumbled?”
“Probably something to do with this.” Alicia tapped the first map where Crouch had written several lines. “Follow these maps the right way, or you may have to bite the bullet.”
Healey shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
“Basically, a warning,” Caitlyn said. “Many of today’s sayings were born in pirate days. Blood is thicker than water. Bitter end. Calm before the storm. And — bite the bullet.” She pressed a few buttons. “Apparently sailors were given a bullet to bite on during difficult operations before the use of anesthetics. Hence, bite the bullet. Facing up to something rather unpleasant.”