Tomas Guerrero

Sitting now barely upright, Tomas swiped for his tankard. He squinted into the sunlight as it begin to set through the trees to the west. Another sip and he found he was empty. The sounds of refittment and reconstruction had stopped for the evening and the small thatched ordinary had begun to fill with those previously working on the beaches. Voices of many nations argued, laughed and sang as it eventually became dark on the small island. Phonse and Roberto had be sent among the sparse buildings to find anything they could get for the small compass. Anything at all would help Tomas be able to pay for his afternoon's drinks. The Spaniard pulled out the small bag and tossed it upon the table. He opened it slowly almost fumbling with the drawstrings now that the rum had set in. He pulled out a small human tooth and held it closely to this eye to examine it. A pale stone, almost soft enough to crumble with his fingers, he withdrew next. There were several other odd things he unceremoniously dumped from the satchel: some more bones, a short white feather, a crystal that seemed to glow in low light of the room, dried tobacco leaves, and a small ring with a strange seal on it. He set each of these in front of him in a small circle. He stared at them, confused. More rum was poured into the tankard. Tomas sat, trying to make sense of the odd collection when he heard a commotion outside the door.

Tomas clambored onto the dock. Three days at sea had made him quite hungry and he could assume only that his dinghy mates were the same. Tomas had Roberto dig about the small craft to find items perhaps to trade or even sell for a bit of sup. Phonse, while still dripping on the dock, continued to hold the leather satchel. Tomas stood with his hand out. Reluctantly, Phonse removed the bag and gave it over. The Spaniard opened the flap and rooted around in the bag, but found nothing. "Nothing?" remarked Tomas. "Si," Phonse replied sheepishly. "How do you propose we pay for any vittles?" Tomas asked pointedly. Phonse merely shrugged. Roberto was still in the boat and pulled a small canvas tarp from the bow. He managed to find a small brass compass and a very small, yet heavy bag with what looked like bones in it. He tossed both to Tomas who promptly dropped the satchel. Phonse snatched it up just as quickly. Tomas sighed. The spaniard spun the compass and found that it did work. He turned slowly. Looking southeast, he could see the narrow channel lose itself as it turns to the south about the point and back out to sea. To the northeast, all he could see was a large rock outcropping that eventually broke north around the bay into a narrow beach where there were a few huts lining the beach eventually disappeared into the jungle. Due north of the docks he could a see a wide stream running down into the bay. He could only assume that this was their fresh water source and why the small set of buildings had been built nearby. As he turned to the west, the wide beach had tens of twenties and possibly thirty or more craft dotted the shore. He could see many dinghies and longboats, but mostly were dugout canoes with fishing nets strung across the bows. As the beach turned and ran east at the far southern end of the bay, Tomas saw three large vessels laid on their side for careening. This basin had to be relatively unknown. He saw no fortifications, nor cannon, nor soldiers. Phonse had followed Tomas as he surveyed their surroundings. "¿Dónde estamos?" Phonse asked quietly. "No estoy seguro," replied the Spaniard, "pero la Marina no británica, ni español." "Pirata?" Tomas clutched the small bag and tossed it gently in his hand. He smiled wryly, "Si."

As they neared land, small fishing boats began to dot the sea. The vessel received a gust of wind and propelled them further toward the coast. Eventually, wisps of smoke could be seen rising from behind the trees. The spit of land grew larger until Tomas could finally make out what appeared to be a busy harbor. They passed through the narrow channel only to reveal a very large basin buffered by trees nearly all the way around. The southern most end of the large bay had a wide beach with several ships laid aside for careening. The largest of which, a frigate, had men climbing all about while a tall dark-skinned man called out orders through a speaking horn. Tomas told Roberto to drop sail as he pulled the tiller nearer to him and they drifted away from the activity onshore. Vessels were constantly sailing in and out of the harbor. Tomas pointed them towards a small group of buildings nearest the docks. They picked their way through the maze of anchored boats until they bumped alongside the wharf. Phonse removed his oar and stood slowly while moving to the bow. Roberto did the same, but suddenly dropped the oar. The loom of the oar caught the gun'le and promptly landed in the water with a loud 'splash'. Phonse turned quickly to look. He was prepared to place his hand on the pier to steady himself, but with the commotion to his left, he simply misjudged the distance. Phonse slipped, grabbed for the dock, but fell swiftly into the harbor. He landed under the dock and bobbed for a moment before he grabbed for the side of the boat. "A fine first impression," Tomas stated as he clapped quietly, "a fine one indeed."

A few days later . . . . Tomas was at his last rope. He had watched the sun rise and fall twice and decided to end Phonse's life the same amount. Sitting there in the dark, thoughts raced through Tomas' mind about how to dispatch the portly Spaniard once and for all. Tomas squinted as Phonse's oar smacked the gunwale echoing the fat man's snoring. Phonse had lost the small provisions the day prior. They went swiftly overboard during a brief rain spell when he tried to cover his head with the leather satchel. What provisions they had in that satchel promptly dropped into the sea, at night, on a swell, in the middle of the caribbean. Luckily for Phonse, Tomas decided to spare him only because he had retrieved the bottle of rum. And now, dawn was beginning to break. Tomas finished the last sip in the bottle and tossed it over his shoulder. Something caught his attention. He turned his head slightly. The wind had changed direction and he could no longer smell Phonse. Land was nearby.

Tomas thought to send the longboat towards the shore and wait until morning to salvage what remained of the flaming wreck. He placed his chin in hand and tried to calculate the distance they were from the smal island. Looking about in the dark, it was difficult to find the where the reef broke. He could hear the waves crashing nearby and decided that a late night swim back to the same island where they were nearly marooned was not the best laid plan. The ship was still aflame on the horizon as Tomas pushed the tiller to starboard. Phonse felt the boat pull to larboard and looked to Tomas. "To the colonies mi amigos. Maybe our luck wil change."

Darkness had fallen. Tomas was slipping into unconsciousness as the rum wove its way into his skull. He now had a full view of the evening's activities. Slumping lower into the boat, the breeze shifted and Tomas caught full force of Phonse. He stuck his face over the side and hoped to gain some smell back. Even Roberto hacked and spit over the gunwale. Phonse merely shrugged and happily continued rowing. A sudden thud, followed by an explosion and several more deep thuds brought the Spaniard out of his haze. He now sat up and saw more fires burning on the deck of the anchored ship. He squinted as a thought suddenly came to him.

Southeast of the Island Phonse and Roberto had pulled the three meager crew far enough out of the swells that they could ride atop the sea at a safe distance from the oncoming foray. Tomas slumped in the stern and rested his shoulders against the transom. He was defeated, again. Tomas missed out on the gold to be recovered, lost his sloop, and was now adrift with a shit smelling fat man. He glared at his companions only to have the early evening conceal his demeanor. "Capitán, el barco está en llamas!" Phonse pointed and yelled. Tomas did not move. "WHY should I care that the ship is on fire? Is it my ship? NO. Does it contain mi oro? NO." Tomas slumped. He withdrew a bottle of non-descript liquor, pulled the cork and drank deeply. "Señor, it is the man who tried to kill us before. The other ship bears his flag." Tomas finished the bottle then slowly pulled the tiller toward him. He waved Roberto and Phonse to continue rowing only so he could get a better view. Tomas huffed and cocked his head to the side.

Deserted Island As twilight struck, a young boy came tearing down the trail. He was yelling and pointing over the rise. Tomas squinted as the ship's crew ran to the water's edge. They could still make out the outline of their ship and a similar sized shadow tacking in just behind it. The Captain called for all hands to man the longboats and strike out for their ship. Red Cat remained hidden as she watched Tomas make his way for Phonse. Roberto also saw Tomas and ran towards him. In the commotion, Tomas grabbed a musket and a brace of pistols. Roberto almost tackled him as he passed the small tented tarps. He pushed Roberto toward Phonse and helped untie him. The three men scurried behind the tent and grabbed what supplies they could. Stuffing food and a few bottles of rum into a large sack, Phonse threw the sack over his shoulder, promptly shattering the bottles. Phonse smiled meekly and shrugged. Tomas smacked him squarely on the head. They refilled the sack and ran to the water's edge piling into one of the dinghies left onshore. Phonse and Roberto took up the oars and Tomas manned the tiller. They all stayed low in the craft and headed away from the ship toward the southeast now hugging the shore line. Red Cat lost sight of the men in the rush. She smashed her fist into her palm and ran back through the jungle to find Nate. The Spaniard had gotten away . . .again.

Any room for a Spaniard? A nasty Ol' Spaniard whose meager crew annoys him more than anything. Caught stealing from the plate fleet leaving Potosi, Columbia, he was stripped of his command. He amassed quite a fortune in his years with Spain. He now is a dark figure within the Caribbean. A mercenary. Hard to find, because he knows you are looking for him. He has many, many bookkeepers, soldiers, captains, pirates and privateers and spies within his payroll. He know when each ship leaves the South American coast and what each has on board. Not settling for logwood traders from the Bay of Campeche, or local fisherman from the Yucatan, he takes from those wealthy enough to lose it: Statesman, Government officials, and the Crown. Currently operating out of the Dry Tortugas, he has a small bumbling crew working for him.

Deserted Island Red Cat and Roberto tucked themselves under the heavy foliage. They could hear the men further up the trail singing loudly and crashing through the undergrowth. To Cat and Roberto's surprise, Tomas was leading the crew and appeared quite drunk. Red Cat looked to Roberto who simply shrugged. She frowned and watched as the small group continued to the small encampment below. They could see as Tomas was shown to whom they thought was the captain and he was welcomed to the crew. As the sky began to darken, Red Cat and Roberto edged closer to the men. They could smell the fires roasting the various bottles the men had caught throughout the day. Some fish, some game, and even some fruits could be smelled on the fire as the smoke wafted away from the shore and into the hills. Red Cat made her way around to the Northeast side of the camp. She told Roberto to stay put and watch for any signs of trouble , to which, Roberto was only so glad to do. She crept slowly around the treeline watching the shadows from the cooking fires dance on the palms and walls of the makeshift tents. Red Cat kept an eye out for Tomas trying to gauge whether he truly was drunk or if it was a ruse to get out of a tight spot. As she slowly made her way around the barrels and crates, she spied a man tied to a spit. Red Cat squinted and could only see his outline. His most outstanding characteristic was his size. Fat. Extremely fat. She laughed to herself as she figured how he could resemble a pig on a skewer, only if he had an apple stuffed into his mouth. She slid closer to see that it was actually Phonse who had been tied there. She quickly began to wonder why Tomas had not rescued his portly companion yet.

Deserted island After some time, Red Cat could not see any more movement in the small encampment below. She looked to Roberto who simply chewed on a short piece of grass. “Let’s get a closer look eh?” Roberto stopped chewing and coughed abruptly. Red Cat shook her head and tucked the spyglass back into the leather satchel. She slid backwards a bit and tapped Roberto on the leg. He stood up and Red Cat quickly hissed at him to stay low. “Dinnot know where t’ey may be Roberto.” He nodded and moved to the shade under a tall palm. Red Cat threw the bag over her shoulder and arranged her pistols to the center of her belt. She and Roberto then slowly made there way down the hill side-stepping and stopping every few minutes to tuck themselves out of sight. They began to hear voices coming from the shore just north from where they stood. An oddly familiar voice sounded loudly above the din.

Phonse sat with a pistol on his knees and tried pour a priming charge into the pan. Nate looked at him and quickly waved him over. Phonse nodded, but didn’t move. Nate peered over the log he had hidden behind and could see that the men were still preoccupied with the chest. Nate crawled out of sight over to Phonse. He tried to pull him down but stopped when he heard a yell from over his shoulder. Phonse froze. Nate slid behind a tall palm bush and held his breath. The tallest of the men drew a musket at Phonse who promptly soiled himself, again. Nate, laying prone, being close to Phonse’s arse, was having trouble keeping down the meal he ate not so long ago. Even holding his breath, Nate could smell the mess in Phonse’s slops. Nate buried his face in the sand. “You!” called the man, “stand!” He mumbled something to the other crew that Phonse and even Nate could not understand. They drew their weapons as well. Phonse stood and stumbled forward a bit promptly dropping the pistol in the sand. A smaller bare-chested man dressed in torn breeches grabbed for it. He smelled the stench from behind Phonse and vomited on the sand. The other men laughed and pointed at the flies now beginning to appear. Phonse walked closer to the men and each pushed him away. Only the smaller man was forced to walked behind the portly Spaniard. The tall man threw his musket over his shoulder, turned and walked back up the shoreline. The crew picked up the chest and followed behind him.

Tomas smiled and nodded slowly. He withdrew the dagger hidden behind his belt in the small of his back. Tomas inhaled deeply. "Down among the dead men, down among the dead men, Down, down, down, down; Down among the dead men let him lie!" sang out Tomas. He drunkenly staggered towards the men across the stream, slashing at the vines and undergrowth in the thick jungle. Two muskets immediately bore down on him. He continued down the streambed. ""Down among the dead men,down among the dead men . . " singing loudly, he stopped abruptly when he saw the weapons. "Hola, mi amigos!" He called out. With a flourishing bow, he bent downward and purposely tumbled into the stream. Those men filling the casks laughed softly. The man now holding the brace of pistols was not smiling. "Oi! Wot ye doin' 'ere?" As Tomas staged his grande show, Roberts backed slowly out of his hiding and made his way back to the beach.

On the other side of the island, deep in the jungle, Roberts moved his eyes slowly from the small group back to Tomas. The Spaniard hadn't breathed so much a whisper since the men appeared. Roberts moved his hand slowly towards his hip and over to his pistol. He knew Tomas would be watching him so he stopped his reach abruptly. Roberts eyes went back to Tomas and he nodded. He was to make a series of simple symbols and gestures to tell Tomas exactly what he needed to know. Tomas surmised that there were five men; two of which had muskets, one, a visable brace of pistols who was calling out orders, and two others whom were busy rolling large casks, Tomas assumed to be filled with fresh water from the stream. While the spot where he and Roberts stood was quite concealed, he knew that the task of refilling the casks was onerous indeed. They had to find a way back out of the jungle or else be stuck there for some time. Tomas looked back down stream and pointed his head they way they came. Roberts shook his head slowly, "no," he quietly mouthed. o~~}--------> Due east of Tomas and Roberts, Roberto readjusted the small leather satchel that held the spyglass. He looked at the meager weapons that he had attached to his belt. The dark skinned man realized that he had a pistol that had not been primed, but held onto a short sword that he took from the longboat. That gave him some comfort. Roberto looked up to see Red Cat had crouched behind a mangrove so he hurriedly made way through the tall grass to catch up to her. She continued ahead following tree to tree, always using the foliage for cover. They heard nothing save for a few Macaws and monkeys calling through the trees. Roberto glanced up through the light foliage to the sun. He wiped the sweat from his brow and now kept close behind Red Cat. They eventually reached the small clearing atop the hill. Smoke could still be seen billowing from just north of them. Cat asked Roberto for the glass. She lay on her stomach and crawled to the edge of the hill to peer at the small encampment. Off to the northeast she could see a schooner anchored just offshore. Immediately she thought it was too large for their small group to put it to sea. Red Cat audibly huffed. She looked back to the beach and saw several men drinking around a fire. Closer to the shoreline Cat saw some sort of wild animal being skinned to which she could only guess to be then placed in the fire. She put the glass down and rested her chin on the back of her hand. She knew that the better part of fifty men were needed to sail that boat. To her count, she was at mayhaps fifteen or twenty. "Where are the rest?" she whispered softly. "Ma'am?" Cat had not noticed Roberto crawl up beside her. "Less jus' hope the boys be alright."

Tomas looked up the narrow stream and back to Roberts who had knelt in a small space of less jungle. Tomas began his step across the rivulet when he heard several branches snap and give way just to their north towards the smoke. Roberts backed to the nearest tree and Tomas lay prone by several large rocks. A mix of languages followed by the grunts and groans of a group of men struggle with something followed the noises of the broken foliage. The Spaniard crawled to point where he could see better the men heading right for them. Roberts had remained in the thick of the tree but positioned himself where he could watch the men as well as Tomas. With a loud thud, the group abruptly stopped just around the bend of where Tomas and Roberts were hidden.

Tomas and Roberts made their way north to the treeline, only to pause and watch Nate and Phonse disappear into the tall palms due east of their position. He assumed Nate was going to meet Red Cat and Roberto northeast of the rise. Tomas just realized should they find anyone or anything on their side, they'd be alone to meet it head-on. Roberts waved Tomas over to a narrow stream running away from the shore to the west and north. They agreed to follow it around the bend and deeper into the jungle. The Spaniard admitted to himself and himself alone, he was a bit nervous foraging out with a man who shot nearly dead his own crew mate. He paused briefly and stooped to the stream to cup a handful of water. Roberts continued just ahead warily.

Phonse quickly grabbed the satchel off of Roberto's shoulder to which he held on to it tightly. They tugged back on forth on it until Nate leveled the musket in their direction. Roberto saw it first and let go, leaving Phonse to tumble into the sand. "A fine choice Captain." Tomas laughed. Red Cat shook her head and started northeast towards the rise above the smoke. Roberto smirked at Phonse and lept off after her. Phonse stood slowly and wiped the sand from his slops and picked up the eyeglass. Roberto stopped and returned to sneak up behind Phonse. He grabbed the glass and sent a swift kick to Phonse's arse sending him sprawling again. Snickering, Roberto went after Red Cat again. Phonse stood, collected himself again, and made his way to Nate. Looking the worse for wear, Nate shook his head at his companion for the day. Roberts stood aft the longboat for a moment watching the goings on with nary a smile. He had wished to be on with Nate so as to finish the job he started. He did not trust the Spaniard, but Nate even less. He tucked a pistol into his belt and met Tomas at the treeline.

"Yes m' dear. Directly, I'd say," Tomas answered. "But, Phonse an' Roberto can first head above the rise. Give us a look afore we head into the unknown." Tomas winked at Red Cat. "Roberts and I can sit a spell in the grove and wait for the word. Cap'n, Meet us on the other side of the hill?" Tomas nodded towards the hill. Phonse and Roberto waited patiently for the word from their Captain. They threw a few goods into a satchel and Roberto slung it over his shoulder. Tomas grabbed the eyeglass and tossed it to Phonse who promptly dropped it squarely onto the thwart, sending a slight crack across the front lens. The Spaniard just shook his head while Phonse shrugged sheepishly. Nate chewed the inside of his cheek and looked to the heavens.

Sounds good. Cold, but good.

"Phonse, tie off the boat. Roberto, take the pike an hike around the point. See if you can see anyone else. ¿Entendido?" "Si Señor," replied the men. Tomas looked at Nate, scratching his head and squinting into the sunlight. "Is that alright Capitan?" Tomas questioned. "Wha . . o' course, o' course." replied Nate. He took the bottle from the seat of the longboat, downed a long pull and then passed it to Tomas. They both looked around slowly. Red Cat stared eastward into the jungles of the island. She nudged Tomas, "Smoke," she said pointing inland.

As the crew switched places on the thwarts, grinds and bumps could be heard from underneath the longboat. Robert pulled the tiller back and forth, following the directions of Phonse in the bow when he flashed his arms to larboard, then starboard quickly then back again. Roberto took the pike and prodded the reef alongside Phonse. Closest to the bow Nate pried back on the oars as Tomas and Red Cat followed suit. Nate stopped suddenly and kept the oars above the water. "Oi!!, 'old 't a minute." Tomas and Red Cat stopped. They could all hear an intermittent roar approaching. The fog was still thick even though the sun attempted to peek though. Nate turned round in his spot and squinted, trying to make out anything ahead. As the noise came closer, Nate knew that it could only be the waves crashing onshore. "PULL", he called aloud, "For th' love o' th' Lord, PULL . . . " Nate looked above, "Aye Father, I'm doin' me best, bu' I cannot guarantee th' rest." He laughed aloud as he pulled hard on the oars. Tomas turned to Red Cat behind him, "Does he always do that?" "Of course," snickered Red Cat, "How d' yuh think we've gotten this far eh?" Tomas smiled and shook his head slowly.

Nate could not see Tomas but did hear him. He squinted and could just make out the Spaniard. "Wot 's 't Toe-mass?" "Capitan, we appear to be moving along with no help from wind or oars," Tomas replied. Nate knelt and looked closer to the water. He looked to those at the oars and then to the water; to the sail and to the water. "So's we is." He nudged Cat and she looked over the side as well. She looked to the sky and could see the sun barely poking through, but the fog quickly extinguished the light. Nate looked for a moment to the bow. Cat set her chin in her palm, when suddenly she grabbed at Nate's pant. He looked down at her and they both exclaimed, "THE REEF!!"

Tomas took a long pull from the bottle. Roberts, Phonse and Roberto continued their methodical pull, slap, pull of the oars. The wind had not yet filled the sail and needed every bit of effort to keep from luffing. The Spaniard lay with his shoulder on the gun'le and watched as the Caribbean slipped by. His ears perked up suddenly. No a single sound was to be heard save for the oars. No wind, water, or even sounds from the Scotsman penetrated the fog. An eerie silence permeated the boat. Tomas looked at the slight bow wake and could see a very faint green glow in the wash. Phonse had finished his last pull and then stopped, followed by the other two oarsmen. They sat in complete silence, but keep a steadying pace. "Capitain?"

Tomas sat in the bow and listen to the destruction raining down around them. The fog was still thick yet they could hear the cannon gradually becoming more dull as the 'thuds' continued into the afternoon. Tomas rested his chin in his hand. At this singularly particular moment, he had nowhere to go and nothing to do. While he wanted to head back and recover what had been lost when his boat upended on the reef, he knew there was plenty more out for the taking. Port Royal always made for entertainment. Barbados, Hispaniola, anywhere, to lead him for more. "El Capitan," called Tomas, "¿dónde vamos?" Phonse turned and looked quickly at Tomas. Tomas did not move his head, but merely his eyes to his new Captain.

As the crewmates stepped into the longboat, Tomas could hear shuffling and the dragging of heavy objects below deck. Suddenly, a hearty laugh erupted from the hold. The longboat was close enough that the Spaniard could pat the bow of the sloop as Roberts, Phonse, and Roberto manned the oars. Tomas stood slightly and was just barely ble to see the Scotsman bearing down onto the sloop. "Momentito, Capitan," Tomas blurted as he jumped from the bow of the longboat. Nate drew his pistol and aimed directly at the Spaniard's head. In a swift second, Tomas had grabbed the chains just below the bow and climbed aboard. He crouched and made his way quickly back to the tiller. With some force and a bit of leverage, Tomas pushed the tiller to starboard and tied it off. The bow of the sloop was now nosing toward the North East gradually exposing her larboard broadside. He ran back down the deck to return to the bow. The longboat had now disappeared into the fog. Tomas heard a shallow thud coming astern. A heavy splash landed just of the larboard rail. "JUMP," was the next thing he heard. He looked below and could not see the water, let alone the longboat to land in "Fer chrissakes, JUMP! She's firin' on 's now!" Tomas put both hands on the rail and flung himself overboard. What he found next was a softer landing than expected. He expected to find himself completely drenched and being pulled to safety. Red Cat caught a glimpse of Tomas from below and had moved closer to the small lever commanding the direction of the tiller. Nate had slid opposite, closer to the larboard gunwale to call again for Tomas when he found he was suddenly thrown back and pinned to the bottom of the longboat. Tomas had looked about and found he had landed squarely on top of ole' Captain Nate. Jenny smiled and stifled a chuckle. Those men manning the oars also withheld what laughter they could. Tomas simply collected himself, raised up and stated, "Ah, better Nate," he paused and pointed his thumb to the tiller, "than lever." Those in the longboat erupted in laughter, even Roberts managed a smile. Nate huffed as he stood and showed two fingers to Tomas. "Ye owe me two now Spaniard." Tomas clasped his hands together smiled and bowed slightly. "Lo siento Capitan, es verdad."