Chapter Seven

As the cannon fired for the second time, Doctor Harwell was already on the way back to the house, having met with the esteemed Mr. Butler, a cousin to the throne in England. Harold Butler owned the largest plantation in the Caribbean, which was on the Southern tip of the island. He was something of a strange man, aloof and yet accessible in a conversation. Doctor Harwell did not have friendships he valued, but his meetings with Butler were very nice. The men could talk for hours on the nature of politics and its growing importance in society, and Butler was also something of an avid card sharp and relished in taking money from those less informed in the ways of gambling.

Doctor Harwell was one such man. Though the odds were incalculably stacked in Butler's favor, he could not deny the beast inside him that wanted to destroy Butler, if only once in a game of Gin.

The two men were traveling back to Harwell's modest plantation, when the cannon thundered in the distance, prompting Harwell to call out to the coach driver to move faster, pushing the horses to the limit as they rounded the beach. Butler showed concern for Harwell, though he had yet to afford any affection for his children. Butler moved around with a contingent of soldiers to act as bodyguards, he was perhaps more well protected than the governor.

Doctor Harwell could scarcely believe his eyes to see the old Portuguese sailor Leon standing on the beach beside a long nine cannon, blasting joyously at his house. A soldier pulled off his musket and advanced, but Harwell took the young man by the shoulder.

"Harwell." Butler coughed. "Let the man do his job."

"I know this man. He is old and confused."

"I have a shot," The soldier said towards Butler.

The businessman looked back at Harwell, "It is your decision, my friend. You are more than welcome to attempt talking the wild man off his rampage."

Harwell nodded in response and took a few ginger steps toward the Portuguese, holding his hands harmlessly in the air.

"Mr. Leon. I believe you have fired cannonballs into my property."

"Aye." The old man said with his heavy accent. "So I have. And I aim to do it again until that urchin of yours comes out with my belongings."

"What the devil are you talking about?"

"The devil. That's what made him do it, eh? That's what made that boy sneak into my shanty in the dead of night and take the property that was not his to touch. That which was explicitly forbidden towards him. But what did the spoilt little rich boy do when he was told 'no' and possible it was the first time, mind you. He went ahead and did that which should not be done." The old man lit the end of the fuse and hovered with it over the cannon.

"You attempt to make that shot, Leon, and the young man with the musket will take you down. Do you believe that?"

"Aye. But he'll probably miss. No man ever got the drop on this old sailor, and from that distance? He'd more hit you than he would hit me." Leon laughed heartily.

"I have known you for a number of years and though you have your eccentricities you have never struck me as a man that was beyond reasonable logic. And you have never been someone to have struck out in anger at anyone. If you say that my son has taken something from you, then we must give him a chance to clear his name. Do you not agree?"

The old man twisted his face in a moment of hard battled concentration, before smiling near toothlessly. "I'd like to have him on the beach anyway, I do not think I am getting anywhere blowing holes in your wheat fields."

Harwell turned his face slightly away, never taking his eyes from the man and his cannon. "Simon. This is your father. You are needed here and now on the beach if you please!"

Several moments passed before Simon appeared through the gate, a pistol tucked in his belt.

"Hold it right there ya brigand. You comin' armed is a sure sign of your guilt." Leon sneered.

"You've been firing at the house my sister is in. You are lucky I do not pull this from my waist and shoot you where you stand."

Leon laughed. "A brave boy to make such a statement while the end of a long nine is aimed at his waist."

"We are not getting anywhere with this pedantic silliness. Simon, I want you to take the pistol from your waist and drop it on the ground."

Simon looked at his father as if he had asked him to disrobe. But, he did what his father had suggested, dropping the loaded pistol to the ground. He was in trouble, he could feel the punishments coming, he would be found as the liar and the thief he was. Simon would surely be locked in stocks, or jailed. If they considered it piracy, he would surely be hanged from the nearest tree. Simon felt shades of worry cross over his face.

"Now, Simon. Now that we are all present and, I am sure, all paying attention. We will answer the accusations leveled against you. What is it that my boy stole?"

"An object of insurmountable value to me. A precious relic that should not have been touched and not by him that shows such lack of respect towards his superiors and his blood." Leon spat out, frothing.

"And what object exactly?"

Leon looked perplexed. "That I cannot answer."

Simon saw the old man's face. How could he not answer? All he had to do was say that he had stolen a compass, his father would have searched and surely come upon it.

"You cannot answer. Leon, I am trying to help you. But, you must be able to give some sort of description of what it is my son took from you."

"It would be small. No larger than a fist."

"Harwell, is everything all right here?" Butler joined the three of them.

"Well, I am doing my best to determine what it is that Mr. Leon believes my son stole from him. The leading descriptor is that the object in question is small."

"No larger than a fist." Leon repeated.

"Thank you." Doctor Harwell said, looking worriedly at Butler.

"Mr. Leon." Butler continued. "Have I not been a good landlord to you in these troublesome years?"

"Aye, you've let me live fine on my own."

"That is settled, then you must allow me the pleasure of knowing more about this supposed object Mister Harwell's son has purloined." Butler spoke in the way of the upper-crust English, never quite looking at Leon as he addressed him.

"I am afraid that I cannot answer much more than that." Leon scratched his head with the fuse rod.

"Simon. Is there anything you would like to say in your defense?"

Simon came up with an idea, "If Mister Leon is so sure that I took something from his possession, than surely he would be able to find it among the things in my room. Would that not be accurate? I can assure you that I have been in there all night and all morning. Father, you can attest to the lack of my presence at breakfast. I was in my bedroom at the time."

"Yes, of course." Doctor Harwell took a step towards Leon. "Why do we not just go and have a look in his room?"

"I am afraid I would not be able to recognize what it was he stole, good sir. Your son must tell me which one it is."

"Surely you know your own property, how else would you know its missing?" Butler clapped in amusement.

"It has changed shape since I first came upon it." Leon stated in a serious matter of fact way.

"Changed?" Doctor Harwell spoke incredulously.

"When I first saw it, it was nothing but an ancient protractor. Golden and carved with delicate runes. A beautiful thing. But, I do believe a hundred years has come upon us, and now all I am certain is that last night it was in my possession, and now it is not. The only thing in recent memory to have changed was this boy coming back from sea, arrogant and rude, and wanted it all for himself. He said as much in presence just last afternoon." Leon was wild, brushing the fuse lighter near the rear of the cannon. The soldier tensed up with each pass, certain he would be making a fatal shot before the end of the standoff.

"This man is a barking loon." Butler said softly into Harwell's ear.

"I cannot prove it. No one would believe it. I must do something drastic to get it back. You do not understand, it is dangerous, dangerous to have all that you desire, to always attain that which you seek. Dangerous." Leon swung the cannon about and aimed it directly at Doctor Harwell and Lord Butler. "I must make him tell me where it is!"

The old sailor brought his arm down to fire the cannon. Simon moved as fast as he could and dove for the pistol at his feet, lifting his arm just in time to fire at the long ignition rod, blasting the metal apart.

In the same instant, the soldier fired, a much more decisive shot that struck the old man in the shoulder, knocking him to the sandy ground. Moments later, the soldier was reloading for another round of firing.

"That's enough!" Doctor Harwell called. "Crazy old fool. Have him arrested and thrown in prison. I will not have him hanged, not for having a rotten mind. His years of solitude has devastated his reasoning." The doctor looked to his son. "Simon."

Simon put his arms around his father's waist. Doctor Harwell put his hand on his son's head, and Simon watched as the soldiers placed shackles around the old man's wrists and led him away down the beach. Too injured to speak, all Leon could do in the desperate situation was give the boy a lingering look of disappointment.

"That concludes a rather interesting morning, I do say." Butler chuckled, pleased to have witnessed such drama.

"Are you all right?" The doctor said to his son.

"Yes. Just scared." He buried his face, half to hide from the guilt and half to guiltily smile for his getting away with the theft.

Half the battle had been won. It was time to put his plan into action.

All he had to do was keep his sister quiet about the whole affair and the world was at Simon's fingertips.