Seven-STORMS A BREWIN
August 1716
Governor Shute’s office sat directly above the entrance to the three-story city building. The pouring rain darkened the red brick, and welcomed an arriving carriage. Cyprian Southack stepped out of the carriage and hurried through the downpour and the doorway.
Inside, a wet Cyprian entered the governor’s office. Governor Shute looked up from his work, eyes hard. “Captain Southack, what in the devil brings you out in this torrential weather? Did you find Gates' ships?” His eyebrows rose as if in anticipation of beneficial news.
“I’m afraid not, but there’s a rumor that Mr. Gates is leasing those ships out to privateers.” Cyprian hung his coat in the corner.
Governor Shute shook his head. “That would be far from criminal, so why the guise?”
“There is a growing concern here in America that privateers are nothing but pirates with permission.” Cyprian took his place in a wooden chair facing the governor.
Governor Shute considered it for a moment. “That’s exactly what they are.” The governor waved a hand. “Anyway, keep looking.”
“And if Gates is leasing to pirates?”
“If Jonathan is leasing his ships to any men for the purpose of plunder without the kings sanction, that is to be considered piracy, and he should be hanged like one. No man is above the law.”
Cyprian gave a slight grin. “No man except for you.”
“I am the law.” The governor stood and walked to a small table that hosted a variety of bottles. “Would you care for a drink?”
“Scotch thank you.”
Governor Shute began to pour. “Still drinking the scotch?”
“I suppose I’m a traditionalist at heart.”
“Tradition is good. There’s nothing wrong with that.” The governor set the scotch down and picked up a different bottle. “I have been very traditional when it comes to gentlemanly exploits.” The governor handed the scotch to Cyprian and then sat down. “But recently I have found that only the imported rum from Jamaica does the trick.”
They raised their glasses and took a sip.
“How is the Hallet family? Do you still see Maria?” asked the governor.
“They are well. Maria is stubborn, as usual, but she’ll come around.” Cyprian’s hands moved up and down on his knees in silent rhythm like a drummer practicing his rudiments.
The governor could not help but notice. “You obviously did not come here for chit chat. Tell me, Cyprian, why are you here?”
“Spanish gold.” He said it without hesitation.
“What about it?”
“A fleet of Spanish ships sank off the coast of La Florida. They are said to have had large caches of gold along with other valuables.”
“Have you verified the authenticity of—?”
Cyprian stood and placed an envelope on his desk. “A dispatch from a British naval officer stationed off the southern coast.”
The governor pulled out the letter and began to read. “My heavens, there must be a fortune down there.”
“Indeed, enough to make a hundred men very wealthy.” Cyprian grinned for the first time.
“I’m sure there will be at least that many after it,” said Governor Shute.
“Not to mention the Spanish.” Cyprian paced behind his chair. “This is why we must move quickly.”
Governor Shute leaned forward in his chair. “What do you need?”
Cyprian pulled out another paper and handed it to the Governor. “Two ships with crew fully armed.”
“You want to arm the crew?” The governor asked it without looking up.
Cyprian nodded. “And the ships.”
“Expecting a little competition, are we?”
“It’s Spanish Gold, sir. I’m expecting blood.”
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