Tomas Guerrero

By the time Tomas had reached the thin line of trees he turned to see that each man had kept pace trudging through the soft deep sand amongst the nets and fishing gear. The boat that had carried him here was now headed back to see with the native at the tiller. "¡Pequeño cabrón!" Tomas said out loud. Phonse turned to see the small craft just reaching full sail heading out of the harbor. Tomas squinted in the bright sunlight. He now had to retake his vessel with Phonse and Roberto at his side. A daunting task at best with threefold the men with him. He needed more, or at least more skilled men in this undertaking. El Guerrero knew Catalina held lodging nearby. If anyone was to know who could be bought, it would be her. And she owed him.

There once was a pirate from Tulass Whose balls were made out of brass, when he clanked them together they played stormy weather and sparks shot out of his arse.....

Tomas and the men beached the boat among the other fishermen. They received an odd look when their craft did not unload nets laden with fish, but men laden with weapons. Tomas and the men made their way ashore within the fishing boats. The native stood for a moment watching the waves break slowly ashore. He knew something was amiss. The Spaniard and his meager crew paid no mind. They had a schooner to recover and a treasure to find.

The vessel neared land faster than expected. Roberto was on the bow watching for the reef and taking soundings when he upturned his nose. "¡POR DIOS!" he exclaimed. "Hay problema?" Phonse asked. Suddenly, the smell hit the fat man. He stuffed his nose in the cuff of his sleeve. Even Tomas winced as the craft made it's way through the clear yet ominous fog of despicable stench. The native at the tiller inhaled deeply. Tomas noticed this immediately. "Smell of low tide?" the Spaniard questioned. "No," the deep voice boomed, "the smell of death." Roberto looked at Phonse and both looked to Tomas. "Si," Tomas agreed, "or this morning's breadfruit pudding." Roberto laughed, as did Phonse. The pallor of the tillerman remained unchanged. The dead was near.

As they neared the island, many fishing vessels similar to theirs began to become more prevalent. Tomas kept his eye on 'La Esperanza' as they picked their way among the small boats. "El Guerrero," Phonse questioned, "what shall we do if she reaches the harbor?" Tomas looked at Phonse, "Why, steal her back, of course."

Phonse appeared around the point a short time later. He was standing in the bow of a single masted craft. A small fore and aft rig purloined from a local fisherman with full sails gave Tomas a meager amount of reaffirmation in his pudgy assistant. "Señor Guerrero, Señor Guerrero!!" Phonse was waving frantically. Tomas raised his arm and acknowledged the men in the boat. The tall native swung the rudder wide, causing the sails to luff, slowing the craft in meager surf. Tomas waded into the water and met the men. Roberto offered a hand to to help the dark Spaniard up to the boat. Once aboard, Tomas looked about. The nets and several small poles were still aboard. A simple crate was open with no lid to be found, but a small musket and a few pistols were within. The men quickly threw the fishing gear over the side, making the craft lighter. As the sails filled, Tomas pointed towards the rapidly disappearing sloop he once owned. Tomas pointed his hand directly at the sloop ahead of them. "Seguir todo recto." The native nodded and pulled the tiller close.

Think of the Primer as a reference book. It will give a word or phrase, and give it as it is used in Pirate fiction, movies, etc, and then give its definition. An excellent and interesting read. A must-have for your pirate library.

Tomas stood and walked to the bluff. He rotated the chart several times to get his bearings. He looked North, then East. He saw a small ship running along the coarse in that direction. In the very far distance he saw land that could match those drawn on the parchment. He rolled the map quickly and went back downhill to the men. "To the ship, gentlemen. We have a treasure to find." The men stuffed what jewels they could take from the chest into their clothing and grabbed their tools and quickly made for the inlet. As Tomas reached the clearing first, his mouth dropped. The sloop was gone. A small piragua was tucked underneath the palms, but that was all that could be seen of their ship. He called Phonse to his side. "Si, El Guerrero?" "You did secure the sloop as I asked, si?" "Si, si, as you asked señor." Phone removed his cap and wrung it in his hands. Tomas put his hand on Phonse's shoulder. "Do you see the sloop Phonse?" "No señor, I do not." "Dónde está mi balandro?" Tomas yelled. "Yo no se' El Guerrero." Tomas smacked Phonse on the back of the head, and slapped the two underlings. "Find me a ship Phonse." "Si, señor, en seguida." Phonse and boys took off back towards the ramshackle town. Tomas walked along the water's edge to see if he could catch sight of his sloop. Just offshore, to the east, he found the sloop. Sails full, running east along the coast. "¿Qué coño…?

The two younger men removed the fronds from the depression in the ground as Phonse buried the shovel into the soft sand. Within minutes, they had removed the chest and brought it to higher ground. Tomas removed a dagger from his belt and tried to pry the lock from its clasp. Wih a loud 'click' the lock dropped and Tomas opened the chest. A small pouch of of coins and jewels was upturned spilling its contents within the small box. The hired hand's eyes grew larger at the sight, but Tomas could care less for the pittance. He removed the carefully folded papers and turned to find flat ground to spread them out. "Estos joyas son vuestros." Tomas said aloud with his back to the men. Phonse did not wait and dove into the chest to remove as much as he could before the other two tried. Tomas smiled and ran his hand over the route inked onto the parchment.

Tomas found the fat quartermaster asleep still. He prodded him with his sword, poking his backside until he awoke. "Si, El Guerrero." The man dressed and roused the other men who were with them yesterday. Tomas met them outside as they made their way back to the beach. Phonse still had last evening's meal on his shirt and his two workers shared a shoe between them. Tomas shook his head slowly and sighed.

As the evening wore on the Spaniard collected a small group of people around him. Many trite comments could be heard under the breath of those around. He cleared his throat quieting the din. "Damas y señores," he began, "I understand that many, if not most of you are not, how do you say, muy simpatico, with my Nation. To be honest, it is not that pleasant to me at this moment." A small crowd grew around the tall man. Tomas twirled the ends of his mustache and began to tell his story. He did not discuss his upbringing nor his home. But did confirm the repot that he was a nasty Ol' Spaniard. It was true the he was caught stealing from the plate fleet leaving Potosi, Columbia, and was stripped of his command. Tomas amassed quite a fortune in his years with Spain, hence the pouch of reales he left the innkeep. He now is a dark figure within the Caribbean. A mercenary, if you will. Hard to find most times, because he know you are looking for him. Tomas has many, many bookkeepers, soldiers, captains, pirates and privateers and spies within his payroll. He has double-crossed the double crossers. He knows 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. "I am currently operating out of the Dry Tortugas where I have padilla de pequeño working for me trying to find the wreck of "El Altanero", lost a fortnight ago." He summoned the bartender for another round of drinks, as his story always leaves him parched.

Tomas saw the pair far enough off shore to feel safe that the chest had not been found in their overnight stay. He saw them look back but, unworried, Tomas retreated to the point where he would rouse his men from slumber to continue the excavation of the site.

Toms noticed the looks arise when the gold was passed. No hay problema.

"Si. Muchas gracias." Tomas slides a bag of reales to Ray. "Will this do?"

As he reached the beach, Tomas found evidence that the pair had retreated into the craft beached formerly. He quickly found the frond covered pit, and found so undisturbed. The coals were still smoking as he rushed through the undergrowth to climb the small knoll overlooking the sea. Reaching the top, he saw the dinghy now heading out to sea, yet barely off of the reef. Tomas removed his cap and placed his hand above his eyes shielding them from the ever heightening sun. He stared at the small boat for several minutes, watching the two aboard move about, setting course.

Dawn broke finding Tomas already awake. He had completed his calculations early that morning and wanted to see if the pit had remained undisturbed by its visitors. Tomas pried the plank from below the desk and slid the satchel into a narrow spot. Replacing the plank with precision, Tomas headed back to the beach to check on those near his hidden chest.

Tomas lit a few candles while waiting for his sup to be delivered. He opened his journals and removed a dogeared and crumpled map from his satchel. Pulling the cork from the bottle with his teeth, he spat it on the floor. A long gulp was followed by a belch causing a momentary silence in the kitchen. Tomas smiled. He read through the diary of his own writing, making notations on where Alvaredo had found the chest earlier, taking care to note it proximity to the shoreline and it's depth. The Spaniard also wrote his calculations upon finding the hole again from the dirt path. As the ink dried, the innkeep brought out Tomas his food. "Sir, your cost this meal will be greater than usual because," Tomas removed his pistols and placed them upon the table. The frumpled man wrung his hands and went back to his room, swearing all the while. The Spaniard smiled yet again.

<<the spaniard yells above the crowd>> ¡Hola amigos! I was told a sufficient introduction es necessario. Me llamo es Tomas. I write in the pirate hunter's smarter brother within the rabble rousing forum. I have a keg of fine Madeira and some homemade Sangria for my friends. Muchas gracias for the kind words.

Tomas noted the surroundings. Quietly, he tried to measure the steps it took him to make his way back to the trail and finally the dirt path to town. Once reaching his accomodations, Tomas roused the inn owner and ordered a plate of victuals to be warmed. Begrudgingly, the man woke and made his way to the kitchen. He let Tomas know 'El Corazón del Toro' closed several hours ago and continued muttering into the kitchen. Tomas made his way to his room and retrieved his brace of pistols. He stuffed several books into his satchel and made his way back to the meeting room. Tomas relieved the owner of a bottle from behind the bar and spread his collection across the great table.

Suddenly another person came into view. The two sat and ate calmly, unaware that Tomas was watching, more concerned with his own wares than others. He twirled the ends of his long mustache waiting for the two to fall asleep before he was satisfied that the chest was safe for the evening. A return trip was necessary to complete the excavation. Only then would the maps be found for the wreck. Tomas smiled knowing what he would find aboard the vessel. He let the frond move slowly back to its position and backed away slowly from the pair. "Mañana," he whispered to himself, "mañana."

Tomas pushed the fronds to the side quietly. His dark eyes and complexion easily blended in with the ever growing shadows around him. The man he was watching stood and stuffed the pistol into his waist. Tomas watched a second longer. He breathed slowly and waited to see if the man was going to find the pit they had begun.

Tomas watched the man beach the craft and set up a makeshift camp. He could hear the man mutter to himself, but what he said was unknown to Tomas' ears. He eyed the man a bit longer and sat, perched on his heels, waiting for the man to fall asleep.

Tomas peered around to see any prying eyes watching his outfit. He walked to the edge of the water and put the glass to his eye. Tomas carried the glass round to southeast. "¡Maldita sea, no me busques las cosquillas!" swore Tomas. A single pennant at flutter was spied. "Hay problema Señor?" the short fat assistant asked. Tomas marched back up the beach and gave the instructions to cover the hole with palm fronds and to make way back to town. "Any word of this and you'll be in the bottom of that hole," he grabbed the man's collar and pushed him away.

"Cabrón!" Tomas exclaimed as he struck the sailor. The man grabbed the back of his head quickly feeling for blood. He grabbed the man by the throat and thrust a pistol into his neck. "AGAIN!" The man scowled as Tomas cocked back the doglock. "Your choice, señor." Tomas smiled. "Profundizo o morir. "El Guerrero!" cried the quartermaster. He reached for the pistol as Tomas stared the man down. The quartermaster whispered to Tomas, "We shall find the treasure presently sir, but the men, the men are frightened of your repute, sir." "I pay them to dig, not to think."