Pirate Code by Helen Hollick Page B

sixteen barrels and ninety seven kegs of high grade indigo as I recall.”
    His eyes suddenly brightening, van Overstratten’s head lifted. “No, he did not. The deceitful rag!”
    He knew nothing of any secreted barrels! That slime-riddled bastard had kept their existence to himself, no doubt to remove them without his gullible purchaser finding out. Had not bargained on his younger half-brother getting the better of him by tossing him overboard. God rot his slimed soul!
    The Dutchman’s face twisted with contempt. He might have known! Mereno was no better than Acorne; all the family were pirates. The whole damned lot of them!
    Jennings hid a smile. Hooked. Now, play the catch slowly, else the line might break. “Mayhap the indigo is no longer there? Mereno may have disposed of it prior to selling you the land. Do not ask me how, for I cannot answer, but I know it was there two months ago. It might be worth your while asking after those barrels, seeing if they can be, er, quietly removed, if you catch my drift. Sixteen barrels and ninety seven kegs. That is a lot of indigo.”
    “All I know of the place is what the steward, a Señor …” van Overstratten fumbled in his coat pocket with his tobacco-stained fingers, brought out a well-read letter and glanced at the signature. “…A Señor Mendez has written me.” He tapped the paper, “This made sorry reading.” As did the other letter in his pocket, the debt demand from London, but of that, he said nothing.
    Jennings only knew of Mendez through Wickham. He had never met him. “This Mendez? He made no mention of the barrels either?” The incredulity sounded convincing. When van Overstratten shook his head, Jennings appeared to be baffled.
    “Perhaps he is being cautious. There is no love lost between the plantations and Governor Don Damian del Gardo. Mayhap your steward does not wish this valuable commodity to fall into the wrong hands? All legal trade from Hispaniola carries a heavy tax burden, and this indigo,” Jennings spread his hands apologetically, “again, please do not ask questions that I am not at liberty to answer. All I can say is, I have information that this particular indigo was definitely not intended for legal trade.”
    Digesting Jennings’ implications, the glass of brandy in his hand quite forgotten, van Overstratten remained silent. Sixteen barrels and ninety-seven kegs of purest grade indigo waiting for the right moment to be smuggled out of Hispaniola to avoid export tax? The profit on such a lucrative cargo could see him clear of all financial difficulty and leave him some to spare. Indigo was a prize worth having, no wonder it had been hidden away until it was safe to move it!
    Henry Jennings shook his head slowly, lifted one hand, let it drop; now to reel in.
    He sighed deeply. “If it is still there it will have to remain where it is. We are now at war with Spain, it will be impossible to remove it. Only someone who knows those waters and is, how shall I say, willing to take a risk, could fetch it. You are a wealthy man, though, so I suppose a wait will not matter. Mayhap it will be a short war?” He sighed again, shook his head regretfully. “On the other hand, history tells us of the Hundred Years’ War. If memory of my history lessons serves me correct, I recall England lost all of France, except Calais, because of those exchanges.”
    The hope that had been rising in van Overstratten dwindled; he drained his glass in one gulp. He would not be able to get at that indigo whether they be kegs, barrels, hogsheads or sacks. Whether they be six, sixteen, or sixteen hundred and ninety seven in number.
    “War will have closed the waters around Hispaniola to merchants and traders,” Jennings muttered again as he took the empty glass and handed it to the discretely hovering maid. “Only smugglers and the Royal Navy will risk going anywhere near there now.” Added, keeping his voice casual, “And pirates, of course.”
    Van