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“At any rate,” Dante continued, talking now to his rum, “thanks to Lucifer, we knew of a secluded bay on the Island of Sacrifices, not five leagues from Veracruz.

It was big enough to hide two ships and easily within striking distance of the harbor.

We each carried the framework for several pinnaces in our holds on the voyage down, and when we reached the inlet, it was a small matter to assemble the vessels and launch our tiny fleet on a surprise nighttime raid.

“No one expected us, No one raised an alarm, for we looked like harmless fishing boats.

We landed a mile or so up the coast and went overland into Veracruz; eighty men in all, and each came away with as many bars of gold as he could load onto a mule.

Christ, the cocky bastards even left the stables unguarded.

“By morning, of course, all hell broke loose, for we had not exactly been tidy with the bodies at the treasure house.

As luck would have it, however, a squall blew up and delayed their pursuit by a full two days—plenty of time for two nimble wolves to slink away and use those same winds to blow us clear across the Caribbean.

We were successful too. We broke into open sea and were more than halfway home before misfortune struck.

A gale, the likes of which I had not seen in twenty years, swept us along like spindrift for seven days and nights.

It battered the Virago so badly, she ended up on a reef with a hole in her hull wide enough to swim through.

“Our first thought was to find someplace safe where we could haul her over and make repairs. We were as yet unsure of where we were but the lookouts spied a small island and we made for it, hoping for time to make repairs. Once there, we lightened the Virago’s burden by off-loading our weight of gold bars along with every spare barrel and crate we carried—including most of our food and fresh water .

We had the cables attached and the men on shore to careen her when we saw sails on the horizon.” He stopped and snorted at some terrible irony, which he shared a moment later with Spence. “They were bloody zabras. Six India guards unluckily driven off course by the same storm that ripped at us.”

“Blow my ballocks,” Spence muttered. “What did ye do?”

“The only thing we could do: We stood and fought. The Virago was wounded, aye, but we had Bloodstone at our back; we should have taken them in a trice. He was to remain out of sight behind the island while we drew fire and led the zabras away. The intention was to catch them with their eyes looking forward, not back, and while the Talon bore some damage to her mainmast, she still had full steerage and an equally full battery of guns to call upon.”

Dante’s voice grew brittle and a tremor appeared in the hand that gripped the pewter cup.

“The zabras took the bait, as we expected they would, and came on, all six of them bristling with their own importance. We sallied forth to meet them, feigning we were in worse straits than we were, knowing that Victor Bloodstone, courtier to the Queen, nephew of Elizabeth’s chief counsel, would be running out from behind the island with all guns blazing.

” He paused and tossed the considerable contents of the cup down his throat.

“He ran, all right. Bearing due north and east the last glimpse we had of him, with every square inch of canvas warped into the wind. He ran and just left us there, one against six, knowing full well that this time we were the fresh, bleeding meat, and the Spaniards were the stalking wolves.”

Dante’s throat was beginning to roughen from the spirits, but the blazing blue eyes remained fixed and burning on the pewter cup. “My brave, brave Virago” he whispered .

“She took them. Sank four and sent the other two limp pricks off, dragging their sails behind them. There were sixty of us left at the end of the day … sixty out of one hundred and thirty men, fighting on decks that ran red with their own blood. When we returned to the island to lick our wounds, everything was gone. All of it: the gold, the silver, even the barrels of food and water. And what they could not load on board the Talon , they smashed and threw into the sea. The wounded,” Dante finished on a savage hiss of fury, “did not stand a chance.”

He fell silent and Pitt took up the remainder of the story.

“We patched the Virago as best we could and rigged enough sail to catch the prevailing winds, not knowing whether or not the two zabras managed to limp into a nearby port to relay our identity and position. The ship was too badly damaged and the crew too weak to have held off another attack … which might explain, although not excuse, our extreme caution and lack of manners this morning when we saw you sliding out of the mist.”

Spence nodded pensively. He was dumbfounded, and more than a little outraged himself at the treachery perpetrated on the crew of the Virago.

There were unwritten laws, codes of honor among seafarers as sacred and unbreakable as the laws of God.

First among others was never to abandon a sister ship in distress, and De Tourville, though half French himself, had sailed the Virago under English colors with a mostly English crew.

He was a privateer and an adventurer. To be sure, some even called him an opportunist and a pirate, but he was also a respected member of the elite group of sea hawks whose skill and daring on the high seas was the only thing standing in the way of Spain’s complete dominance of the oceans as well as the New World.

While publicly commiserating with the King of Spain over the losses suffered at the hands of the sea hawks, behind closed doors Elizabeth not only encouraged her privateers to plunder and raid the rich treasure ships that sailed between Panama and Lisbon, she was the largest single investor in many of their planned expeditions.

There had been rumors flooding England for over a year now that King Philip was at the end of his patience over Elizabeth’s feigned innocence.

Her fledgling navy of merchant marauders was costing Spain staggering losses in shipping and prestige, and there were stories of an enormous fleet of galleons being amassed in Spanish harbors, a great armada of warships being built to carry an army of conquest across the English Channel.

It was no time to hear of open treachery and cowardice among the English ranks. Elizabeth would need all her best captains, her fastest and deadliest ships, to counter any threat Spain might present.

This was not to say all the sea hawks were friends.

Most were bitter rivals who would no sooner reveal their plans and destinations to a fellow privateer than they would voluntarily report the full value of their plunder to the Crown.

Even Jonas Spence had his secret compartments and false walls, though both were sadly empty at the moment.

Nor was he above a little larceny or piracy if the acts were warranted.

But to abandon a sister ship? Or to tuck his tail and run for safety while someone else fought to the death?

He had not lost two fingers and half a leg because he went out of his way to avoid confrontations.

“Blow me,” he muttered again. “I can well see why ye’d be wantin’ to chase after the fellow. An’ with more guns than a mere merchant trader would have to offer.”

Dante shook his head, causing his earring to glitter in the lamplight. “He has more than a two-week start on us. Even burdened as he is, I have come to believe over the past few hours, it would be sheer foolhardiness to think we could catch him.

Spence’s brow pleated over a frown but it was Beau, still looking on in silence from the doorway, who felt her spine prickle at the implication that the Egret was too slow and unrefined to merit the pirate wolf’s respect.

“I would have you know, sir,” she said, striding briskly into the pool of brighter light, “with a fair wind in our sheets we can run at fifteen knots and better.” She dropped the platter without ceremony on the table and leaned forward on the heels of her hands.

“We have sailed from Plymouth to the Tortugas in under six weeks. I doubt even your Virago could have outrun us.”

Dante glowered while Pitt stepped quickly into the breach. “You must have had an excellent navigator and pilot.”

“We did,” she said evenly, turning to meet the smiling green eyes. “Me.”

The smile was startled off Pitt’s mouth. “You?”

Spence settled his weight back in his chair, balancing precariously on the two hind legs while he folded his arms across his chest. “Best damned pilot I ever had at the helm. Hell, she once took us through Magellan’s Straits in a storm.

An’ her charts? Ye’ll see none their equal.

If anyone can run us up the arse o’ yer rogue captain, it’s my Isabeau. ”

“A woman,” Dante muttered, still disbelieving, “at the helm of a ship? Has the world gone mad?”

Beau glared at him. “Only the small portion with you in it.”

“Well, regardless,” Pitt interjected quickly, “it does work to our advantage that we know precisely where Bloodstone is going.”

“To London, ye mean.”

“To London.” Pitt nodded. “He’ll waste no time boasting his prowess to the Queen and her counsel, likely taking all the credit for the venture in the same voice he uses to mourn the loss of Simon Dante.”

“Aye, an’ he’ll do it all with yer gold in his pockets.”

“My gold,” Dante agreed, finally tearing his gaze away from Beau. “Which could be half yours if you brought me within striking distance of the cowardly bastard.”