Chapter Twenty-Five
--
It was fortunate that Morgan made the Highwind Trader and her cargo disappear off the face of the earth. The cargo was taken to Kingston and Tortuga and sold, and the Trader ended up as a burned out shell at the bottom of the Caribbean.
A few days after commandeering the Trader, Hector found himself accosted by several marines acting on behalf of Charles Beckett and the East India Trading Company. He was taken before Beckett, himself against his will, and he stood glaring at the man who sat behind a large ornate desk.
"So, you wanted to send me a message eh, Barbossa?" Beckett said from where he had his hands folded in front of him on the desk.
Hector tried to stay calm. "I have no idea what ye'd be talkin' about, sir," he replied evenly.
"Really? You didn't take that ship of mine and tell my men it was personal?" Beckett asked coldly.
Hector shrugged. "What ship?"
Beckett smiled at him without mirth. "Don't play games with me, Barbossa. I intend to have you hung for piracy, as well as for the murder of Stewart McCallum."
"McCallum's death were self-defense, and as fer yer ship? Do ye have proof?" Hector asked, trying to sound confident, but now starting to worry a little.
Beckett was about to speak, when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Looking up, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion as Henry Morgan entered his office.
"Good afternoon, Charles," Morgan said pleasantly. "I trust you are well?"
"I'd be better if your thugs weren't raiding my ships and interfering with Company business, Morgan." He glanced meaningfully at Hector.
"Whatever are you talking about, Charles?" Morgan asked, wearing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Barbossa, here is one of my most valued crew, and one of the most upstanding."
"That doesn't say much about the rest of your crew, Morgan," Beckett spat. "I intend to see this man hung."
"For what reason?" Morgan asked calmly.
"He attacked and stole one of my vessels," Beckett sneered.
"Really? Where is the ship that he stole? I should be curious to see her," Morgan replied.
Beckett frowned. "She's hasn't been seen again, but I have five witnesses that say the Maelstrom raided her."
"The Maelstrom? Why, that would be Captain Ringer's ship," Morgan said. "Have you ever been part of the crew of the Maelstrom, Hector?"
"No, sir," Hector replied truthfully.
"Have you ever sailed under the command of Captain Ringer?" Morgan asked.
"No, sir, never," Hector replied, again quite truthfully.
Beckett was becoming irate. "But my men said..."
"Evidently, they were mistaken," Morgan replied firmly, "and I'm sure you realize that it'll mean a lot less trouble for you if you just let Barbossa go. I should hate to have to involve the governor again, as he's such a busy man."
"Of course, if you happened to have hard evidence, it'd be a different story," Morgan continued, a wry smile crossing his face.
"Fine," Beckett sneered. "Both of you get out, but you mark my words, Morgan. Your days of running things here in the Caribbean are at an end, and the Company won't tolerate any interference from rogue pirates."
"I should think not," Morgan said pleasantly. "Good day, Charles. Come, Barbossa."
Hector spoke to Morgan once they were well away from Beckett's office. "Thankee, Cap'n. That be a mite close fer comfort."
"You'll have to watch yourself, Barbossa. Beckett isn't a man to trifle with," Morgan said solemnly.
"Neither are ye," Hector answered with a wry grin.
Morgan smiled. "That's true, Barbossa."
--
Two nights later, Hector was sitting in the Whale and Waterspout with Harlow, Turk, and Starkey when Roberts came in.
"Did you see this?" he asked, waving a sheet of parchment, and then tossing it on the table as he sat down.
Turk picked it up, read it and started to grin. "Yer becomin' more popular with Beckett everyday, Barbossa." He slid the paper along to Hector who likewise picked it up and read it.
"Twelve hundred guineas," he said with amusement, eyeing the latest wanted poster. "fer information leadin' to the capture and conviction of Hector Barbossa. So, now he's recruitin' to try and find proof."
"Better'n five hundred guineas," Harlow replied with a grin.
"Aye, and it'll be more'n that if I have any say," Hector replied smugly. "Just try and let him find proof of anything improper."
--
Morgan was wise enough to keep Hector strictly on the Oxford for a time after that, to make sure that Beckett had no opportunity to find anything with which to use against him. While Hector was content to lay low after the Maelstrom incident, the one thing that still posed a problem with him being on the Oxford, was his tense relationship with Hartwell.
Morgan had spoken with Hector and told him it wouldn't be long before the two of them wouldn't be part of the same crew, as he intended to give Hartwell his own ship to captain not far down the road, and he asked Hector to do his best to keep the peace onboard.
Hector did so, only because it was Morgan that asked him, but he swore that if Hartwell gave him any just cause off the ship, one of them would probably not return to sea.
--
The events that took place just before Hector reached the seasoned age of twenty-five would change his life forever, once again.
The Oxford had been to sea for several long weeks, and was returning to Port Royal from where she'd been sailing to the northwest, not far off the coast of Cuba, when it became evident that the return trip was not going to be as smooth as they hoped.
Morgan stood on deck with Hartwell, eyeing the dark clouds that were on the horizon, wishing that they were closer to land with the way the storm looked. Caught half way between the Caymans and Jamaica, they were going to have to make a run for it if they might find shelter along the coast of either. Morgan decided to continue east toward Jamaica, even as the swells around the ship were beginning to dramatically rise and fall.
Thunder could be heard off in the distance even before the torrential rain began, and the crew, including Hector, knew that this was no minor squall that they were going to sail through quickly.
Though it was midday, the sky quickly grew dark as dusk, and forks of lightning could be seen stabbing through the not so distant horizon.
Hector joined Morgan at the helm to scrutinize the storm. "This will be a close contest, Barbossa," Morgan said grimly. "Would that we had sailed for home earlier or later. See to it that everything is secured and battened down properly, would you?"
"Aye, Cap'n," Hector said, shooting a brief look of dislike at Hartwell who remained at the wheel.
The storm arrived with a great swell that rocked the Oxford, and a bolt of lightning that shattered the air nearby, just before the heavens opened up and instantly doused everything and everyone on deck. Gale force winds began tearing at the sails, putting a strain on all the masts.
"Cap'n, we should drop canvas!" Hartwell said after half an hour of trying to skirt the edges of the storm, yelling to be heard
"Aye, shortly," Morgan cried back through the wind and the rain, watching the way the wind still ripped at their sails carefully. "If she'll hold a bit longer, we might make land around the edge of the storm to ride the rest of it out!"
It became apparent quickly that Morgan's hopes were not going to pan out, and he finally gave in when the main topgallant began to tear along a weak seam, and several stays snapped away from their fastenings.
Crewmen scrambled to try and drop canvas, struggling as the ship tossed dramatically on the deepening swells. Hartwell struggled with the wheel, trying to maintain some sort of heading as best he could, but it became obvious as the seas grew more violent that his efforts were probably counting for very little. The Oxford dropped deep into a trough and then plowed up and out the other side, torrents of seawater slamming over the deck before anyone had a chance to react.
Hector, having made it back to where Morgan was shouting orders frantically to the crew, watched horrified, as the wave that scoured the deck took a man named Carter over the rail and out into the violent ocean. He dashed for the rail, slipping and falling twice in the water that was still draining through the scuppers, but there was no sign of Carter anywhere when he looked over the side.
Lightning tore across the heavens again, lighting the deck of the ship up for an instant as bright as day, and sheets of rain slashed across the ship. Visibility plummeted as the rain increased to torrents, and the crew fighting to reef sail at the fore of the ship had a difficult time hearing orders shouted to them from Morgan back at the helm.
"Barbossa!" Morgan cried aloud, "Get up here and take the wheel!" He pointed at where Hartwell was fighting for everything he was worth at the helm, and Hector jumped to comply with the order, bolting for the quarterdeck. Lightning ripped the blackness around them again, illuminating the enormous wave they approached.
Morgan himself had started making his way across the deck to try to get instructions to the crew near the foremast, and had to grab onto the starboard main shroud to keep from being swept across the deck. Hector had seen his captain nearly losing his footing from where he fought to hang onto the wheel with Hartwell, and was relieved to see the only thing washed overboard was Morgan's hat.
The Oxford was swept down into another deep trough, and managed once again to plough up and out the other side, and Hector fought alongside Hartwell to steer them up and out of it, saying nothing and letting their mutual animosity go temporarily for the sake of trying to save the ship.
A faint cry broke through the violent sounds of the storm and the sea as the Oxford was swept along sideways by another enormous wave, and Hector could see that someone who had been overhead in the rigging of the mainmast had fallen into the sea. He thought for a moment it was Thomas Harlow, and his heart sank until he spotted both Turk and Harlow fighting to make their way aft from where they'd been.
Thunder crashed again, temporarily drowning out the sounds of the rain and wind, and both Hector and Hartwell ducked involuntarily, letting go of the wheel and throwing themselves to the deck as lightning struck the mainmast, blowing the top third of it to bits that rained down on the crew below on the deck. The unstable mast, already shorn of a pair of stays, began to lurch dangerously to starboard, and as Hector climbed back to his feet, the sharp cracking noise made by the mast could be heard over the violence of the storm.
Hartwell had flung himself on the ship's wheel again, bringing it back under control for the moment, but Hector, in the illumination provided by the next bolt of lightning, could see that Morgan was in trouble. Hit by a large chunk of disintegrating mast, Morgan had been slammed into the deck, and was fighting frantically against the next wave that came awash over the deck, hanging onto a rope from the now defunct shroud.
Hector dashed for the stairs, thinking to aid the fallen captain, and ignored Hartwell as the first mate ordered him back to the helm. He grabbed onto the rail, trying to pull himself forward across the deck to where Morgan had almost made it to his feet. He could tell that in the confusion of the storm, Morgan had no idea that the mast next to him had nearly given way, and was being pulled rapidly by the weather toward the deck where Morgan was.
Hector held on for dear life and shouted at Morgan, pointing at the mast that was collapsing. Morgan was still having trouble gaining his feet on the wet deck with the angle the Oxford was lurching at on the swells. It became clear to Hector in the next instant that Morgan wasn't going to make it, and he let go of the railing and lurched dangerously across the deck, risking being swept overboard.
Another sharp crack came from the mast as the remnants let go, and Hector slammed into Morgan, shouldering him out of the way just as the mast collapsed onto the deck. Morgan slid across the deck, still managing to hang onto the rope in his hands, and Hector, trying to dodge the toppling mast unsuccessfully was caught up in rigging as the entire mast fell, and then was slammed into the deck brutally by the yard that carried the topsail.
Agonizing pain shot instantly across his lower back and down his right thigh, causing him to scream, and any thoughts he had of trying to pull himself out from under the rigging were quashed by the weight of the yard and rigging, and the terrible injuries he knew he must have just received.
Distantly he heard voices calling his name through the storm, and with one last attempt to lift his head, he slumped back to the deck and fell into a silent oblivion.
--
Two days later, when Hector finally opened his eyes, he knew the storm must have ended, as it was quiet all around him. It took him a minute to realize that he must not be on board the Oxford any longer due to the fact that things around him were so still. He was in a large bed, tucked under fine linens, and when he tried to lift his head from the pillow to look around him, even that small gesture sent a wave of pain down his back so severe, that it nauseated him.
Hector let his head fall back against the pillow, panting from the excruciating pain, and the effort not to vomit.
"Ah, you're awake," a familiar voice said next to him, and Hector risked turning his head slightly to the side to look at the speaker. Cezar sat in a chair at his bedside, watching him with great concern evident on a tired-looking face.
"Cezar," Hector gasped, finding he was actually relieved to see the older man, "what happened? Where am I? What are you doing here?"
Cezar smiled. "I am glad to see that you are well enough to plague me with a thousand questions. You were injured during a great storm, struck by the falling mainmast of the Oxford."
Recollection of events started to flood back in, and Hector interrupted Cezar, now very concerned. "Morgan...what happened to Morgan?"
"He is fine, Barbossa, thanks to you, from what I am told. This is his house in Port Royal that you are in, and evidently here you shall remain until you are recovered from your injuries," Cezar explained. "As for me, I am here to help look after you…if that meets with your approval?"
Hector could sense the doubt in Cezar's voice after they'd been at odds for so long, never having come to terms with each other after the argument over his mother's death. The fact that it was Cezar holding vigil by his bedside when he awoke, said a lot about the older man, and Hector had to admit he was quite grateful for his presence.
"Aye," he replied weakly, "there not be anyone I'd rather have nagging me during me recovery."
Cezar smiled back, but the smile was short-lived as Hector asked his next question. "What exactly be the injuries I have, Cezar?"
Cezar's manner became quite solemn. "They are not good, Barbossa." He gave more of an explanation when he saw the question in Hector's eyes. "You're leg is broken, thankfully, no bone was exposed. Morgan's doutor…his personal physician has been seeing to you, and he says that you've a fractured pelvis as well, and..."
"And?" Hector asked, not really wanting to know the 'and'.
"And your back, Hector," Cezar said grimly. "You were crushed under the weight of the mast...it is fortunate that you are even..."
"How bad?" Hector asked sharply, looking away to stare at the ceiling.
"Dr. Nelson feels it is unlikely that you'll walk again," Cezar finally said in nearly a whisper.
"Does he, now?" Hector asked from where he'd closed his eyes, lamenting his fate.
"That is what he said," Cezar replied, placing his hand on the younger man's arm. They stayed that way for a few moments, and then Cezar spoke again. "I think he is wrong, Barbossa. This doutor...this doctor...he does not know you the way I do."
"Thankee fer yer vote of confidence, Cezar," Hector replied, a measure of bitterness in his voice.
"Well, it's not only Cezar's vote, Barbossa."
Morgan spoke from where he'd entered the room. "Cezar is right. As much faith as I have in my physician, he tends to be overly pessimistic, and as Mr. Silva has so accurately observed, he does not know you as we do."
"Well, it must be true if the two of you see eye to eye about somethin'," Hector replied, unsmiling but doing his best to make light of the situation.
"Get some rest, Barbossa," Morgan said kindly.
"How be the rest of the crew, Cap'n?" Hector asked, starting to tire from the conversation already.
"We lost three at sea," Morgan replied, "but Mr. Kempthorne and Mr. Harlow are fine, just for the record.
"Although a little bored with both you and the Oxford under repair at the moment," Morgan added wryly. "I should think it won't be long before they break down my front door that they keep knocking on, asking to see you."
Hector nodded, and then drifted off to sleep, knowing that he had a long road ahead of him.