Somehow, through the fog in his mind, the small boy thought of that. The Arawak was trailing him, even now. And to be caught by him, was to mean a most unpleasant death. Pokanoket hurried fearfully through the darkness, certain he would be discovered at each step. Light was held prisoner by the denseness of the jungle, and the unfamiliar night sounds frightened the boy. But he had no choice but to go forward.
The Arawak - had he any other name? - was a native to this tropical land and prided himself on his abilities as a hunter and tracker. And as a fighter. None, it was said, had ever eluded him. No slave had ever escaped from the vast plantation of Don Pedro de la Marana and lived to boast of it. The Arawak had gleefully made sure of that.
Traditionally the Arawak people were docile, mainly hunters and farmers. But the one who chased the boy, it was said only his mother was Arawak, she was of the Taino. His father, they whispered, was one of the fierce Carib - the so-called eaters of men.
Pokanoket's small legs churned ever faster, racing to keep up with his pounding heart. But he knew, he knew for certain, that the Arawak was behind him. And the Arawak would be relentless.
"Be careful of what you eat, some will sell you anything, And if you complain about the service, 'tis best if you do with a blade in your hand," Macomber said. "Keep one hand on your purses, men, and the other on the hilt of your swords. For sure as the sunrise each morning, you're going to need one or the other while you're in Tortuga!"
"You make a mistake, senor." The speaker was a medium-sized man with a rotund face. His uniform glistened with brass buttons and was festooned with ribbons. "This is the sloop of Don Juan Hidalgo."
"It is the don who made the mistake, senor," Carlomagno replied pleasantly. "He should not have let his ship be so near where the Barracuda of the Spanish Main was sailing."
"Barracuda, eh? I have not heard of you, senor. I am sure Don Hidalgo will want to know the name of the man so bold as to attack the vessel belonging to a personal friend of the Duc de Castille."
"Give the don the compliments of Carlomagno."
"Carlomagno? Like the conqueror?"
"One and the same, capitan."
"And do you expect to conquer the entire Spanish Main?"
"Only that part which pleases me. Or rather displeases me, capitan. Now, if you will excuse me, I must be on my way. There are so many ships to plunder - and so little time!"
"The time is shorter than you think, my bold rascal," the capitan promised. "If I know the Duc de Castille, he will have a fleet of his ships after you within a week of hearing of this atrocity."
Carlomagno leaped back onto his own deck. "Tell the Duc to load his fleet with treasure, capitan! If I have to fight them, I at least want something for my troubles."
And then Carlomagno saw her.
She stood behind the well-dressed young man, a look of fear on her otherwise pretty face. Yet there seemed to be an anger there to. She had fire, Carlomagno decided. Her hair was long past her shoulders and had a fine red hue. There was the hint of freckles on her white cheeks and across the bridge of her pert nose. Her emerald eyes flashed with life.
"They must be arguing over the woman," Carlomagno commented.
"Too bad for the gentleman," One-Arm said dryly. "He's about a minute from getting himself killed."
"You think it'll come to that?"
"I know it will, captain. That fellow he's arguing with is the Chevalier de Fortenay!"
Carlomagno's eyes flashed with anger at the name, he took a step forward and One-Arm grabbed at him.
"Don't do it, captain. De Fortenay is the greatest swordsman on the Main!"
But there was another reason, a personal reason.
He aroused something deep within her. His powerful shoulders, his soulful eyes and almost reckless disregard for danger spoke to the poetry of her soul and whispered lines without rhyme or reason across her heart. She had but glanced at him, their eyes sharing one brief introduction, and suddenly she remembered what she had told her childhood friend.
She had seen the face of love.
Suddenly there was another bombardment and a cannonball splintered the deck, sending sharpened splinters everywhere. There was a deafening cracking sound and the mast came toppling down, pinning Carlomagno to the battered deck! He struggled, but was stuck beneath the heavy timber! He would be going down with his ship...
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