Gold of the Jaguar: Ethan Chase Thriller, #3

Chapter 1 – Bloody Pirates

Lima, Peru, 1820

The sounds of many booted feet dashing across the deck beat a staccato rhythm in Captain William Thompson’s ears. He stood in the hold of his merchant brig, the Mary Dear, gazing at the unfathomable wealth piled up to the overhead. For nearly three-hundred years, the Spanish Viceroyalty of Peru had stolen and hoarded the gold of the conquered Incan Empire, storing it in its lofty churches and cathedrals and calling it a ‘tribute’ to Holy God.

The Almighty, however, could apparently not be trusted to defend His tributes from mere mortals. The revolutionaries in Peru had landed troops south of Lima and held a strong position there. At any moment they could attack, and the small garrison of Spanish troops would not be sufficient to repel the invaders. The Viceroy had begrudgingly accepted the doomed situation and gave orders for all Spanish gold to be brought to the port under cover of darkness and loaded onto a ship.

That ship was the Mary Dear, and a humble merchant sailor from London was entrusted to guide the voyage safely up the coast to Mexico.

William set his hands on the centerpieces of this hoard: two life-sized statues of the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus, both made of solid gold and jeweled circlets around the two heads.

For gold, God, and glory, William muttered.

A voice from above: Cap’n, sir!

William stared at the statues a moment longer, then headed up the ladder to the main deck.

Yes, Mr. Forbes? he asked his first mate.

Mr. Forbes scratched his thick red beard nervously. Cap’n, the Viceroy’s soldiers say their orders be changed. We are t’ stay in port now ‘til the Viceroy joins us.

The blank expression on William’s face never wavered. Is that so?

Aye, ‘tis.

Very well. Tell the men to be ready to swab the deck from stem to stern while we wait. On my order only.

Mr. Forbes touched the brim of his hat. Aye aye, sir.

William stepped aside as six soldiers hurried towards him, each carrying a sack of gold across their shoulders. The last of the soldiers stumbled before getting to the ladder and his bag came loose, spilling a handful of gold doubloons on the deck at William’s feet. The soldier stopped and turned to face William with a distrusting glare, like he expected the noble captain to stuff the coins into his pocket and leap into the water.

Mind your step, William said as he bent down to scoop up the coins. He stuffed them back into the soldier’s bag and tied it closed. Wouldn’t want you to break your neck.

The soldier grunted and said something in Spanish that William didn’t quite catch. He smiled and gestured towards the ladder as the other five soldiers now reappeared from the hold empty-handed. The Spaniard adjusted the sack on his shoulders, then carefully stepped down the ladder into the hold.

William walked over to the foremast, where the captain of the soldiers stood overseeing the operation. Is that the last of it? he asked.

The captain shook his head but said nothing.

Well, how much longer?

Why? the captain asked in thickly accented English.

I simply wish to know when my men shall be free to resume their usual duties.

The captain breathed in sharply through his nose. Soon. The last of my company should return any moment now and then we will secure the ship. No one else will be permitted to come aboard or leave, including you and your men. I’ll be watching you closely.

William nodded once. Thank you, sir. Never fear, my crew has no intention of attempting to flee with pockets full of gold.

Bah! the captain said. He spat on the deck and added, I do not trust you English dogs. Make no mistake, my soldiers are the best that Lima has ever seen. If I see one of your crew so much as take a step towards the hold, I’ll have him shot and you and your crew locked in the brig.

William stared at the Spaniard with an icy, inscrutable gaze. Of course, sir, he said finally. Lima is well-served by an upstanding officer such as yourself.

Just then, a soldier jogged up next to the captain and whispered in his ear. The captain nodded and turned towards the starboard side. He fished a small telescope out of his pocket and peered at the hills just beyond the port.

William spotted more soldiers coming with another cartload of treasure, probably the last of the gold. Once those soldiers boarded the ship, the Spaniards would outnumber his crew of forty Englishmen. William had hoped for the entire hoard of gold to be on his ship, but he supposed that was close enough.

Mr. Forbes, William said, calling across the deck, Swab the deck.

Aye aye, sir! Mr. Forbes shouted back.

The Spanish captain whirled around to face William. What order did you just–

William drew a hidden knife from his sleeve and sliced the captain’s throat open, then grabbed the dying man’s pistol and fired it into the face of the soldier next to him.

Chaos erupted on the deck of the Mary Dear as the English sailors, armed with clubs and knives, lunged at the Spanish soldiers. William, meanwhile, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the blood splatters on his pristine blue coat, hoping that a proper washing later would save his favorite garment. He glanced down at the Spanish captain, still alive even as blood gushed from his throat.

Nothing personal, chap, William said, dropping the bloodied handkerchief onto the captain’s face, though I may have made it quicker for you if you had been a touch more polite.

The captain tried to speak but the words drowned in his blood-filled mouth. William shrugged and turned to survey the carnage. The cracking sounds of gunshots rang out across the port, and William imagined that the approaching soldiers would by now be hurrying forward. No time to lose, he thought.

He spied a few of his men looting bodies even as the battle was yet to be won. You men! he barked. Return to the fight now or you’ll be keelhauled! We’re not safe yet!

The sailors immediately obeyed their captain’s orders, though the fight seemed to be nearly over. Only a few soldiers remained, fighting hand to hand in a hopeless battle against overwhelming odds. The element of surprise and the close-quarters had lent a huge advantage to the sailors, despite lacking the training and armament of the Spaniards.

Sensing the end was near, William walked quickly towards the aft so he could take his place at the wheel. As he passed the hold, he glanced down the ladder and noticed the soldier he’d been speaking to earlier lying at the bottom, neck jutting out at an unnatural angle. William grinned at the irony, then continued his march along the deck.

Then, the last of the soldiers was finally slain, and the sailors sent up a loud cheer.

Stow your voices, ya bilge-sucking scallywags! shouted Mr. Forbes. More soldiers be a’comin’! Get up the rigging, hoist anchor, unfurl the sails!

Thank you, Mr. Forbes, William said as he climbed the stairs leading up to the wheel.

You needn’t ever thank me for doing my job, sir, Mr. Forbes replied. He gave a devilish grin and added, And ‘sides, we be pirates now.

Yes. I suppose we are, William replied coolly.

Ya hear that, lads? We be bloody pirates! Mr. Forbes shouted to the crew, and they gave a triumphant cry as they worked feverishly to set sail.

The ninety-foot brig began slipping away from the dock just as a squad of mounted Spanish soldiers charged into view, their horses’ hooves clattering against the stone-paved road. The soldiers dismounted, grabbed their muskets, and moved closer to the fleeing ship. From a distance of about fifty yards, they fired a volley, killing two sailors up in the riggings.

Mr. Forbes, William called as he continued guiding the ship out of the harbor, please encourage those men back there to retreat.

Aye aye, sir, Mr. Forbes replied. He grabbed two sailors and hauled them over to a cannonade at the stern, behind the wheel. Powder! Wadding! Load canister! Ram! Distance... is seventy-five yards. Now fire!

The cannonade boomed in a puff of fire and white smoke. Mr. Forbes watched the canister shot rip into the Spanish soldiers, leaving no man standing. The two sailors working the cannon gave another cheer as Mr. Forbes walked over to William and said, My apologies, cap’n, but those soldiers refuse to retreat. It would seem they’d rather lie there and bleed to death.

Thank you, Mr. Forbes, William replied. He swung the wheel around to turn the ship, then added, Now let’s find a suitable hiding place for ourselves.

Chapter 2 – Perhaps Too Bold

Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean

Release the cannons! William shouted. Let them fall!

He glanced back over the stern at the Spanish galleon that had been dogging them since sunrise. Twin puffs of white smoke burst from the ship’s bow.

Incoming!

The cannonballs whistled through the air and smashed into the mainmast, cutting it nearly in half. It was the luckiest shot William had ever seen, and he shook his head as he watched the sails and rigging come crashing down to the deck. Mr. Forbes dashed up the stairs to stand at William’s side and asked, What’s the next order, cap’n?

William brushed his long, blonde hair back out of his face and looked over what remained of his crew. Those damned Cross brothers had run off with part of the treasure back on the continent, and then there was that goddamned island and those Hell-bound savages. Adding insult to injury, malaria had ravaged the crew in the week since they’d escaped the island. Now left with only half of a full complement of sailors, outrunning a Spanish galleon was a tall task, especially when it seemed the very hand of God guided the shots from their bow chasers.

Tell the men to arm themselves, William finally said. Keep whatever cannon we have left and load them with grape shot for when the damned Spaniards attempt to board us.

Aye aye, sir, Mr. Forbers replied, and relayed the instructions to the crew.

With the mainmast down, running was no longer an option. William released the wheel and sauntered over to the cannonade behind him. It was a slow job by himself, but he swabbed out the barrel, then loaded the powder and wadding and shot. He rammed it in. Two more shots from the galleon's bow chasers smashed into the hull just to William’s right, but he didn’t flinch.

William aimed for the galleon’s foremast, then fired the cannonade. The shot missed its mark but it may have cut a man in half, unless William’s eyes deceived him. He patted the cannon’s copper bore appreciatively, then returned to the wheel, where Mr. Forbes waited for him with a pair of muskets in hand.

The men are ready, sir, Mr. Forbes said, handing William one of the muskets.

Excellent, William replied. He looked at down at his men congregated on the deck and decided they might need a few words of encouragement from their captain. He cleared his throat and spoke loudly.

"Men, it’s been the pleasure of a lifetime acting as your captain. Our time as pirates proved to be short, but I would not change what we did had I one hundred opportunities to do so. The Spaniards will not show us mercy. If you surrender, they will torture you until you reveal the location of our treasure, then they will hang you as pirates. This is an encounter none of us will survive.

If we must die now, let us die like true Englishmen! With a sword in your hand and a defiant cry on your lips, meet the enemy and drag them into the grave with you!

The men cheered. William removed his captain’s hat and tossed this over the railing, then allowed his blue, blood-stained jacket to fall to the deck. Once the fighting began, he wanted to be completely unencumbered.

It was not more than a minute before the Spanish galleon pulled up alongside the Mary Dear. The Spaniards tossed grappling hooks over the railings and held the brig steady as their captain stepped forward.

Pirates! he said. Lay down your arms and surrender, and mercy will be shown to you!

William looked at his men, and they looked back. He turned to the Spanish captain and began to speak: Good sir.

He paused as the Spanish captain met his gaze. William raised his musket and pulled the trigger, blowing off half the captain’s skull. His body fell limp into the ocean waves. The rest of William’s crew took this as a sign and fired a musket volley into the Spanish crew, killing several more.

But the Spaniards outnumbered the English eight to one. Enraged by the dishonorable sneak attack, they boarded the Mary Dear en masse. The hand-to-hand combat was terrible but brief, and in less than a minute the pirate crew had all been killed.

Except for William and Mr. Forbes.

Stop! Stop! called one of the Spaniards, apparently the highest-ranking man remaining. The Spaniards formed a ring around William and Mr. Forbes, as the man who had given orders stepped forward.

My name is José, he said. You are the captain of this ship? William Thompson?

Aye, William replied.

Why did you kill my captain like that? That was unbecoming of a gentleman.

William shrugged. To be perfectly honest, I did it to force a fight to the death.

Why?

So your men would kill my men. So Mr. Forbes and I would be the only ones left alive who could lead you to your lost treasure.

José stared in silence at William for a long moment. He shook his head. You pirates are a shrewd bunch. It’s almost admirable how clever your plots of self-preservation can be, if they weren’t so despicably cruel.

Almost, William said with a smirk.

Very well, José said. Surrender yourselves, lead us to the treasure, and your lives will be spared.

I’ll surrender, and I’ll lead you to the treasure, William said, but I want you to know that I know you’re lying. You’ll kill me once you have the treasure.

If you believe that, then why surrender?

Because I intend to escape your clutches and recover the treasure for myself and Mr. Forbes.

José cocked his head to the side, looking William up and down once. You’re a bold man, Señor Thompson. Perhaps too bold.

Perhaps.

José looked at his men and gave some commands in Spanish. Six Spaniards stepped forward to grab William and Mr. Forbes, then escorted them to the galleon.

Chapter 3 – Treasure, Lost

London, England, 1825

William drank the last of the rum in his tankard. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, set a couple of small, silver coins down on the bar, then carefully stood up and headed for the exit. Another long night of recruiting had gone well, and he finally had commitments from enough men to form a new crew, one that would take him back to his treasure on the far side of the world.

Goodnight, Mr. Thompson! called the innkeeper. William waved but didn’t look back as he opened the tavern door and stepped out into the cool, April night.

A good time to be sailing soon, he thought as he walked along the cobblestone road. Finally, after years of waiting, the treasure would be his once more. He and Mr. Forbes had escaped the Spaniards at Cocos Isle, a small, thickly forested island. They’d told that idiot captain that the treasure was there, but of course that was a ruse. The two of them had lain hidden for several days, surviving off insects and muddy stream water until a whaling ship came into view.

They pretended to be survivors of a shipwreck, and so the whaling ship carried them up the coast, all the way to New California. They intended to return to London together to form a new crew and retrieve their treasure, but Mr. Forbes, of all people, fell in love. A young American woman had smote him, driving all lust for adventure from his heart. The last William had heard, Mr. Forbes was now a banker in a small town called San Diego.

William considered this a betrayal, but he tried not to hold it against his old friend. He’d found something that made him happy, after all. Who could hate him for that? Besides, that left more treasure for William.

Help a poor peasant, m’lord? said a filthy beggar as he approached William. I only need a shilling or two for a meal.

Get away from me. William pushed the beggar aside. He wiped his hand on his coat as he continued to walk, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that the vile wretch wouldn’t follow him.

I suppose dealing with the disgusting underbelly of London is the price of hiring a decent crew, William thought. But he was done coming down to the slums by the docks. He had the numbers for a full crew, and just this morning the bank had approved his loan request to buy a new ship. He’d led them to believe that he was starting up a trans-Atlantic trading company, which wasn’t a complete lie; it was just that the deal he would make with the savages would be vastly one-sided.

Getting supplies would take a few weeks, but William supposed that by the end of May, he would be ready to set sail. Both halves of the treasure would be reunited once again, and William would be a wealthy man. Those savages would regret the barbarism they’d perpetrated against him the last time he was on their island. Oh yes, they will regret it. I’ll blast their island to pieces. We never got the chance to use our cannons last time, but soon they’ll know the taste of gunpowder and shot.

Dealing with the savages was the only hard part of William’s plan. He’d told the recruits to be ready for a fight, and they seemed completely unbothered by the prospect of a grim death, but combat was a fickle mistress and victory was never guaranteed. Furthermore, the islanders would vastly outnumber even a fully crewed HMS Caledonia. But William resolved that his men would be armed with enough modern weaponry to more than compensate for their disadvantaged numbers.

Then, once he returned to London a wealthy man, perhaps William would pay his old friend Mr. Forbes a visit. Yes, he would go to America. He would wear the finest clothes, travel in the finest stagecoach pulled by the finest of horses. He would show Mr. Forbes exactly what he had given up, and he would not give the man a single pence or shilling, no matter how many bills or debts he had accumulated. That’s how William would punish his disloyalty.

I’m coming for you, my dear old friend, William thought, a sinister grin gracing his lips. I will not harm you, but I will make sure you regret your choice for the rest of your life. Mark my words.

***

An Uncharted Island

William grimaced as another throat was cut—another body fallen.

Despite all his planning, despite his vastly superior armament, despite nearly conquering the entire island in a single day, he and his crew had been defeated. Now, bloodied, emaciated, and kneeling atop a peculiar temple, William awaited death with whatever dignity he could muster. If today was his end, he would show these Godless heathens how a proper Englishman perished.

Another slice, another cheer from the savages, another sacrifice to their jaguar god.

Those goddamn jaguars. After a day of hard fighting, William and his crew made a military camp near the village to sleep for the night before finishing their conquest at first light.

As the sun fell below the horizon, an immense jaguar attacked the outpost. If it had been just the one jaguar, things might have gone differently, but the killer feline was not alone. Four or six other jaguars joined in the assault, clawing at William’s crew as if they were an actual skirmishing force. At the same time, the savage warriors fell upon them with obsidian spears and knives. William and his men never stood a chance.

A week had passed since that fateful night with William and his crew languishing in captivity. In that time, he had watched and listened as the natives seized the treasure from his ship and carried it up past the building where they lay in chains. The natives would also parade their prisoners through the streets every morning and every night, while pushing carts full of gold past them. What they would even do with the gold on this God-forsaken spit of land, William had no idea, and the very thought incensed him.

At dawn on the seventh day, William had just begun to hope their lives might be spared. He and his men worked on an escape plan that would allow them to reach the ship, if it still floated, and sail away. But it was never to be. When the sun touched the western horizon, he and the other survivors were marched up to this wretched temple.

At last, the savage shaman reached William, interrupting his silent musing. William turned left and gazed at the bodies of his crew, watched as dark crimson blood oozed out of their open throats. No pity or sadness touched him; he barely knew the men, after all. They were privateers, just like him. No, the only thing William felt at this moment was rage. Pure, white-hot wrath towards these demons who had stolen his gold.

The shaman pressed his obsidian blade to William’s throat and recited a chant in his foul language. William stared up at him from his knees. He could see naught but murder and hatred in the shaman’s evil eyes, no trace of civilized humanity. With his time on Earth running out, William began to shout a song that every proper Englishman knew by heart.

God save our precious King! Long live our noble King! God save—

***

San Diego, 1850

William Forbes rose from the chair beside his father’s bed and dried the tears in his eyes. The cholera outbreak was infecting thousands of people in California and killing hundreds, and it seemed that young William’s father would join that list. The doctor, who’d been by his side for the last two days, believed he wouldn’t last through another night.

Those damn, greedy miners, William thought as he closed the bedroom door behind him and headed for his study. It’d been just one year since the first gold was discovered up in the Sacramento Valley, and since then California had faced a non-stop invasion of prospective miners, fortune seekers, and the criminal types that accompanied such coarse characters.

They all came from filthy cities back East, bringing new diseases with them to the virgin West, plaguing the innocent with death and sickness. Crime soared to unprecedented, ungodly heights as many of these people predictably failed to strike it rich, adding insult to injury. It seemed like life in California was changing forever, and not for the better. All over some damned gold.

William’s present emotions about those gold hunters was what made him feel so conflicted now after listening to his father’s private farewell. Father had gone on and on about how he used to be a sailor, a bloody pirate even, and that he’d been part of a crew to steal a fabulous fortune from the Spaniards in Peru. William had listened and nodded politely as his father told him where to find the treasure, to go and get it for himself while he was still a young man and not tied down with a family. He said only one other man in the world knew where the treasure lay, but that he had not heard from him in almost thirty years.

Now alone