PRELUDE TO EL LOBO DEL MAR

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

He led them back toward the cloister, then off down another, shorter hallway to a fairly large room.  It had a bed against the back wall and desk with chair against another, and large chest at the foot of the bed.  Rodrigo quickly and quietly closed the door behind them.
"These quarters are for visiting abbots and priests," he explained.  "No one is using them, so we will not be disturbed."
He turned to the men, looked up at the ceiling for a moment as he crossed himself, and swallowed hard.
"Your friend.  His name is Jack Wolfe, yes?"
"Yes!" answered Briggs, a little too loudly.
"We knew he was here," said Rhys.  "What do you know about him?"
"He said you would come for him," Rodrigo said, his voice full of wonder.  "And, thanks be to la Santísima Madre, here you are!  I only pray you have arrived in time."
"He's still alive?" asked Dolan.
"Your friend is alive, yes.  But he is weak, so very weak after the tortures that monster has put him through."
"We're gettin' him out," growled Briggs.  "We're gettin' him, and if I can get my hands on that bastard Mendoza - beggin' yer pardon, brother - so help me..."
"Is there a way into Mendoza fortress, Brother?" asked Rhys.  "A poorly guarded entrance, a low wall, tunnels, anything like that?"
Rodrigo shook his head.  "No.  Mendoza has men everywhere at all times.  He is afraid of an uprising by the people.  Every wall, every gate is well guarded."
"We didn't come all this way for naught," said Dolan.  "We're leaving with Jack.  There's got to be some way in.  What if we create a diversion, and sneak in during the ruckus?"
"That gets us in, if it works at all.  What about getting out?" asked Rhys.  "You said Jack is in bad shape, Brother?"
Rodrigo nodded.
"Then I doubt he's up to much sneaking about, and we can't move quickly carrying him."  "You lot come and go from there on a regular basis," Dolan said.  "What if we hid on one of your carts?"
"Aye, that'd work!" said Briggs.  "We hide in barrels or under tarps, and roll through the gates right under their noses!"
"I am afraid we walk in," Rodrigo said sadly.  "Mendoza allows us to carry medicines only.  Everything else, bandages, water, bread, he provides.  I convinced him it would be viewed as penance for his sins if he did that for us.  I am so very sorry.  I want to see your friend away from that prison as much as you do.  He is a good soul, and cannot deserve what Mendoza has put him through."

"First time I've heard anyone say that about Jack," said Briggs.
"There is much good in him," Rodrigo insisted.  "Otherwise, why would he have three friends willing to risk their lives to save his?  A truly wicked man would be forsaken.  He is not."
"He's got you there, Briggs," said Dolan.
"All right, back to matters at hand," Rhys said.  "We'll contemplate the worth of Jack's soul after we've finished saving his hide.  Now, Brother, you say you walk in.  How many of you, usually?"
"Five, sometimes six or seven."
"Is it always the same group of people?  The same faces?"
"It is always myself and Brother Alejandro.  The others take turns, so that all the brothers may help and minister to the tormented in time."
Rhys crossed his arms as he thought.  "Different monks, eh?"
"Yes."
"Gentlemen," said Rhys to his shipmates.  "How do you feel about trading your boots for sandals?"

Dolan's eyes went wide, and Briggs began to laugh.
"Aye, now ye be thinkin' like Jack!" the quartermaster said.
Rodrigo shook his head.  "I'm sorry, but your idea cannot work."
"Why not?" asked Rhys.
"We are of the Dominican Order, Rhys."  Rodrigo brushed his cheeks.  "Mister Briggs, you would not be believable as a monk."
"Fine," said Rhys.  "He shaves."
"Now, just a damned minute..." Briggs started.
"Two weeks, and you'll be brushy as ever, Josiah," Rhys said.  "Remember, it's for Jack."
Briggs took a deep breath, and exhaled noisily.  "All right, fine.  For Jack."
"But there is the matter of you, Rhys Morgan," said Rodrigo.
"Me?  What about me?"
Rodrigo ran his fingers through his close cropped hair.  "You have hair like a woman.  That will not do."
Dolan laughed out loud.  "He's got you there, pretty boy!"
"Remember, Rhys," said Briggs.  "It's for Jack.  I shave, and ye cut yer locks.  Or this plan of your'n  will never work."
Rhys sighed, remembering the feel of Rhiannon's delicate fingers running through his hair, gently tugging at it as they kissed...
"Fine," he said.  "I'll do it.  We have to rescue Jack.  And what are you smirking at, Dolan?"
Dolan took off his hat and ran his hand over his smooth scalp and clean chin.  "I'm just happy I decided a while back to shave it all off!  I'd hate to have to make the terrible fashion sacrifices you two are faced with."
Rodrigo stepped forward and nodded his approval.  "Then it is settled.  Rhys, I do believe we can make your plan work, and we can get you to your friend.  I understand now why Jack has spoken so highly of you.  You as well, Mister Briggs.  He said you have a heart as big as the oceans, and I believe him."  He paused to collect his thoughts.  "We will enter the fortress the day after tomorrow.  You will need to be here at dawn, if not earlier.  A prayer must be given at the start of this enterprise if we are to succeed.  And we will give you instruction on how to behave so that you may be believable monks.  Together, we will save your friend."
"Thank ye mightily, Brother," said Briggs.
"We can't thank you enough," added Rhys.  "We know you didn't have to help us."
"Diego Mendoza is a terrible, wicked man," said Rodrigo.  "If I can help stop him from taking but one life unnecessarily, then it is a triumph for God.  If stopping him causes great upset for Mendoza, then it is a most glorious triumph."
Briggs chuckled.  "If there's one thing Jack's good at, it's causin' great upset!"
"Then may God smile on us, my friends.  We shall serve Him well!" smiled Rodrigo.

Rodrigo showed the trio back to the courtyard gate.
"Day after tomorrow, at dawn, my friends.  May the blessings of the Lord be upon us all," he said quietly.
He shut the gate behind them and locked it.  He paused to cross himself, then started back toward his cell.  If this endeavour were to succeed, much prayer would be needed.
Rodrigo quickly walked down the pathway that skirted the cloister.  As he entered the long hallway back to his cell, a figure emerged from the shadows near the courtyard arch.  With narrowed eyes, Brother Esteban watched the abbot disappear into the hallway.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Two days later, as planned, Rhys, Briggs, and Dolan were at the abbey.  It was well before dawn when they ran the bell at the gate.  Brother Alejandro was there to greet them and swiftly usher them in off the street.  Wordlessly, they followed him to the visiting abbot's cell where their plot had been born.  There they found Brother Rodrigo waiting.  Rhys was immediately taken with how calm the abbot seemed, given the nature of what they were about to attempt.  He himself felt wound tighter than the mainspring of a mechanical clock.  The last time he could remember being so nervous was the first time he had been taken part in a boarding action as part of his uncle Henry's crew.  At least the boarding had been straightforward: jump across to the enemy ship, weapons at the ready, and hurl yourself into battle.  Try your best to stay alive and deprive the opposing fellow the opportunity of doing the same at your expense.  If only this situation lent itself to such simplicity.

Brother Rodrigo warmly greeted each of the men.
"Rhys!  It is so good to see you all!" he beamed.  "The hair, it is much better now, no?"
Rhys ran his hand through his radically shorter hair.  He hoped Rhiannon would understand.  And not laugh too much.  "Well, no," he answered.
The abbot laughed.  "It is small sacrifice God will reward greatly!  Mister Dolan!  You look rested and well?"
Dolan couldn't help but smile at the optimistically exuberant monk.  It felt a bit like the commander reviewing his troops before a battle.  And in many was, it was.
"Ready for anything, brother!" he said smartly.
"Good, good!  Now, speaking of sacrifices..."
Josiah Briggs stood there looking like a little boy forced to wear his Sunday best on a day with fresh, sloppy mud puddles as far as the eye could see.
"Careful, Brother," said Dolan.  "He's a might testy since getting shorn."
Brother Rodrigo smiled at the clean-shaven quartermaster.  "Again, God rewards all sacrifices, no matter how small.  See?  You look ten years younger, Mister Briggs!  A reward already realised."
"I ye say so," grumbled Briggs.
"In two weeks, you'll be getting back to your scruffy self," Rhys said.  "It's going to take much longer for me."
Dolan rolled his eyes.  "Will you ladies stow it?  I've had to listen to this all night long.  Let's worry about saving Jack now, and your vanity later, shall we?"

"Yes, we have much work to do," said Rodrigo.  He went to the trunk at the foot of the bed and retrieved three monk's habits and three pairs of sandals.  He gave a set to each man.
"Here.  Put these on.  You may put these over your clothes if you so wish."
The three men pulled off their boots and slipped their feet into the sandals.
"This'll take a bit of getting' used to," Briggs said.
"Why?" asked Dolan.  "They're shoes."
"I been wearin' boots since I was a lad of ten."
"Thank goodness.  I half expected you to say you were born wearing boots."

"Are they always like this?" Rodrigo asked Rhys.
"Oh, yes.  Can you tell they're good friends?"
"I was afraid they were bitter enemies.  What we are about to do is dangerous enough without any more complications."
"I'll take care of it," said Rhys.  "Oi!  You two, save the banter for later!  You're worrying the good brother.  Now, finish dressing.  In quiet, if you please?"

Briggs and Dolan looked at Rhys like a couple of scolded children, and went about pulling on their monk's robes.  Rodrigo helped them all make sure the layers laid correctly, then showed them how to properly tie the rope belt around their waists.  He stood back and admired his temporary novitiates.
"What do ye think?" asked Briggs.
Rodrigo nodded approvingly.  "You look like fine monks, ready to do God's work.  Now, do any of you speak Espanol well?"
"I do," said Rhys. 
"Let me hear."
Rhys took a deep breath, and began to recite the Lord's Prayer. "Padre nuestro que Estás en los cielos: santificado sea tu nombre.  Venga tu reino, sea hecha tu voluntad, como en el cielo así también en la tierra... "
Rodrigo held up his hand.
"How was that?"
"Very good.  Except that you speak Spanish like an Englishman."
"How do you say 'I fancy a pint and a meat pie with vinegar' in Spanish, Rhys?" Dolan snickered.
"Can you be serious for two minutes, damn it?" snipped Rhys.  Normally he relied on Dolan's wisecracks to keep the mood light, but he found himself out of patience.  Too much was at stake.
Dolan's face fell in the realisation he had made one joke too many.  "Sorry, Rhys."
"It is fine," interrupted Rodrigo.  "Do not worry.  If the guards ask, I shall tell them that you are new novitiates and have taken a vow of silence to prove your devotion to God."
"We appreciate everything ye're doin' for Jack, Brother," said Briggs.  "I mean, not just the robes and such, but all the... well...."
"The lies?" said Rodrigo.  "If I tell a lie or two to prevent a murder, I believe God will find a way to forgive me.  Diego Mendoza is an evil man.  I cannot change him or stop him.  But if I can frustrate him by prevent his committing an evil act, then I shall do it."  He took a deep breath, and a determined look came over him.  "But enough about my soul.  We have Jack Wolfe's life to save.  Now, we have your clothes.  You will need names.  Rhys, I shall call you 'Reyes'.  Mister Dolan, you will be called 'Juan'.  And Mister Briggs, you shall be 'Isaias'.  Please, remember these names.  They mean life for your friend."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

The three men nodded their understanding.  Rodrigo spent the next several minutes acquainting them how to properly convey a blessing in silence with the rosary, and what kind of medical supplies they would be carrying in.  Finally satisfied that he had prepared them as well as one could hope, they all went to the courtyard to meet up with Brother Alejandro.  The monk was trying mightily not to pace in worry.  He hated going inside the fortress, but this was far riskier than one of Rodrigo's displays of defiance to Mendoza's authority.  If they were found out, Mendoza would surely kill them.
"Thank Heaven!" he said to Rodrigo as they entered to courtyard.  "I was beginning to worry."
"Alejandro, you always worry," Rodrigo said with a reassuring smile.  "These are the novitiates who will be with us today," he continued with a wink.  "Brothers Reyes, Juan, and Isaias."
Alejandro smiled nervously.  "Yes, of course.  You've spoken very highly of them before."  He knew the importance of the charade starting before they left the abbey, in case any prying ears were nearby.  But it only served to set him more on edge.
Rodrigo said a brief prayer, and motioned for Rhys, Briggs, and Dolan to pull up their hoods.  He hoped it would be enough to disguise their English features.
"May God bless us and protect us," he said quietly as he unlocked the gate.

They made their way through the streets, and Rhys couldn't help but notice the grim looks on the faces of the people as they passed.  It seemed that everyone knew where they were headed and why.  He found himself saying a silent prayer not only for Jack, but for them all.  This had to be the craziest scheme he had ever been involved in.  But Jack had a way of being at the centre of enterprises anyone else would think completely mad.

Finally, they arrived at the north gate of the fortress.  Four imposing looking guards stood at their stations.  One of them was a brawny fellow wearing a red shirt under his armour, and by his bearing he was the captain of the guard.  He stepped forward as the monks approached, a cruel sneer on his face.
"If it's Thursday, it must be time for a visit from the merciful Brother Rodrigo and his friends!" he jeered.
"Yes, it is Thursday, Ernesto," said Rodrigo.  "And once again, I shall say a prayer for you.  Now please, let us inside.  No doubt your master has been busy again this week."
"In time, brother, in time.  Hello, Alejandro."  Two simple words, but the way he said them made the monk flinch.
"H-hello, Ernesto."
"And who are these?  A warm day, and they are wearing hoods?"  Ernesto reached for Briggs' hood to pull it back.
"Ernesto!" barked Rodrigo.  "Have you no shame?  These brothers have taken a vow of silence.  They cover their heads to demonstrate their devotion to God, just as you wear that uniform to show your devotion to your employer."
Ernesto glared at the abbot, but his gazed faltered as guilt began to do its work.  "You monks and your vows," he grumbled.  Finally he turned and went to the gate.  "Open up!" he ordered loudly.
With a heavy thud, the thick wooden doors of the gate began to swing inward.  Rodrigo smiled politely at the captain, then motioned for the monks to follow him inside.

They walked across a large, open area that was used primarily for Mendoza to conduct troop reviews when he was in the mood to play military man.  Rodrigo and Alejandro led them toward a low stone building situated between two barracks.  A single guard stood by the heavy metal door.  Wordlessly, he unlocked it and swung it open as the monks approached.  Rodrigo nodded in gratitude as they stepped inside.
The inside of the building was outfitted more as an armoury that a gaol, with muskets and swords lining the walls, ready to be quickly distributed.  In the centre was a spiral staircase that led downward.  Alejandro was the first one to the stairs, and the rest followed.
Rhys fought the urge to cough when the fetid stench first hit his nostrils.  They were a little over halfway down the staircase, which seemed ridiculously long.  The robes and sandals only served to slow their progress.  It felt like they were truly descending into the Pit.
When they reached the bottom, they found themselves in the heart of what could only be described as a dungeon.  Large cells of stone and iron bars, their floors strewn with filthy straw, went off in all directions.  Rhys caught a glimpse of Briggs' face in the flickering torchlight.  Never before had he seen the quartermaster so angry.  Rhys put a hand on his friend's shoulder to let him know his feelings were shared.  Now to find Jack, and try to find a way out.

"Brothers, come here."
Rodrigo and Alejandro were standing further down the hallway.  Alejandro's face was ashen as he looked into the cell.  Dolan, Rhys, and Briggs quickly joined them.
"This is the man I told you of.  The one was have tried so very hard to take care of."  Rodrigo leaned close to Rhys.  "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Rhys' heart sank as he looked into the cell.  There lay Jack Wolfe, slumped against the wall, shackled like an animal.  The man he had known to be so vital, so energetic, so irrepressible, stared back at him with sunken, vacant eyes.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Guard!" called Rodrigo. "Open the cell."
One of the two guards very casually retrieved his keys and unlocked Jack's cell. Rodrigo shot him a withering look when the guard smiled with satisfaction at Jack's suffering. The abbot brushed past him, with Rhys right behind. Briggs and Dolan hovered outside in spite of their desire to rush in and help their fallen friend, or strangle the guards who stood by and did nothing.
Rodrigo and Rhys knelt at Jack's side. Rodrigo took Jack's hand, then brushed the matted hair away from his face. To their mutual relief, Jack blinked slowly. He was still alive.

"Muchas gracias, Dios," Rodrigo said quietly. "Jack, can you hear me? It is Brother Rodrigo. Do you remember me?"
Jack's eyes shifted to the abbot's face, and a faint smile formed on his parched, cracked lips.
"Rod...rigo..." he whispered. "My... friend."
"Yes, Jack, that's right. Very good. But you do not look so good, my friend. You were stronger only a week ago!"
"Lost... lost again at... dice..."
Rodrigo smiled at Rhys. "Even now, Brother Reyes, he makes jokes! Save your strength, please, Jack." He looked up at Dolan and Briggs. "Bring us water, quickly!"
Briggs picked up a bucket that was half full of water and tasted it. The water was starting to go bad, but was still drinkable. Now was not the time to be picky. He quickly brought the water into the cell and gave it to Rhys, who wasted no time cupping water to Jack's mouth. Briggs wanted badly to say something – anything – to his friend and captain that might him hang on. But he knew that would be a death sentence to them all.
As Rhys helped Jack to drink, Rodrigo pulled a small vial from a pouch and mixed its contents with the water in Rhys' hand.
"Something for the pain," he whispered. The abbot then got to his feet and left the cell.
"Alejandro, please go to Jack's side. I'm afraid his time may be near."
Alenjandro took a deep breath and entered the cell. He knelt beside Jack and took from a pouch a small crucifix, which he placed on the pirate's chest.

Rodrigo went to one of the guards, his eyes full of fire.
"Where is your lord and master?" he demanded.
"Colonel Mendoza is busy--"
"I don't care! Bring him here! I want him here when yet another of his sins comes to fruition!"
The guard hesitated, then thought better of arguing and went to fetch Mendoza. He knew better than to anger the abbot any further. There was only one man who intimidated him as much or not more than the Colonel. And that was Brother Rodrigo.

"Hello, Jack. Do you remember me?" asked Alejandro.
"Brother Ale...jandro. The nervous one."
"You're an observant man," smiled Alejandro.
"Occupational hazard. Is this... it?"
"Only you and God have any idea."
"So... so tired..."
Alejandro nodded, then made the sign of the cross with his right hand. He began reciting the last rites just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Rhys continued to give Jack water as Alejandro spoke, but Jack began to shake his head no. He leaned closer as Jack looked at him, and smiled as the light of realisation began to shine in his friend's eyes.
"Reyes?" he said in a rough whisper. A genuine smile brightened his face. "Reyes? Rhys! Why, it's Rhys Mor..."
Rhys' eyes went wide, and he help up his hand. Jack fell silent, but continued to smile.
"I'm glad I... got to see you... one last time." He began to cough, and Rhys gave him another sip of water. "Are any... other 'brothers' here?"
Rhys nodded, and Jack looked up at the monk standing before him. The monk cocked his head just enough for some light to reach his face. Jack gave him a supremely puzzled look, and Briggs nodded in acknowledgement.
Jack looked back to Rhys and shook his head. "You damned fools," he whispered. "You damned, wonderful fools... It's a good... good thing... you're not... real."
Rhys grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. He nodded vigorously to let Jack know he was indeed real.
"Just my luck... I hallucinate... and do I get a... blonde wench? No..."

Alejandro caught Rhys' eye and gave him a quick nod, and began to speak just a little louder.
Rhys leaned close. "Jack, it's me," he whispered. "Rhys. I'm really here. So is Briggs and Dolan."
"Then, I'm not... not dreaming?"
"No."
Jack blinked a couple times and sighed. "Then you're all... crazier... than me... That's saying something."
"Lay back and rest. We're going to get you out of here."
"No coffins. I... hate pine."
"No coffins, I promise."
Jack smiled, but was overtaken with racking coughs. Alejandro paused and helped Rhys keep the weakened man from tipping over until the coughing subsided.

The sound of heavy boots with spurs could be heard descending the stairs into prison. Rodrigo looked away from Jack's cell into the face of the man he had come to regard as the earthly incarnation of Satan himself.

Colonel Diego Mendoza.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Ah, Brother Rodrigo!" Mendoza said gloatingly. "I understand there is something you want me to see?"
Rodrigo pointed at Jack's cell. "Your latest handiwork," he spat. "Another life wasted, by your hand."
Mendoza's face clouded with disappointment. "Oh, no. Did Wolfe die, and I wasn't here to see it?"
Rodrigo could barely contain his anger at Mendoza's flippant attitude. "No, Diego. Not yet. I did not bring you here to gloat. I brought you here to bear witness, in hope that you might, for once in your life, feel some remorse for the sins you commit!"
"Jack Wolfe committed crimes against me!" said Mendoza angrily. "I demand vengeance, and I shall have it!"
"No," replied Rodrigo.
Mendoza's eyes flared with rage. "No? How dare you tell me no?!"
"Vengeance belongs to God, and God alone. You commit a sin in killing this man. You commit another by being prideful enough to think you may take that which belongs to God. Sin upon sin, Diego. When does it stop?"
"So help me, Brother Rodrigo..."
"What? What will you do? Silence me as well? Another sin? More blood on your hands?"
Mendoza knew what would happen if he murdered the abbot. The entire town would rise up against him, and the truth was he did not have sufficient forces to put down an insurrection. His garrison was a mere 125 men, not the 500 his propagandists had led the townspeople to believe.
"You try my patience, Brother," he said icily. "I will not be judged by you."
"I am but a messenger, Diego. I judge no one. Only God can. If my reminding you of God's laws and His word angers you, then it is you who is in the wrong." Rodrigo knew he was on dangerous ground, but if there were to be any chance of rescuing Jack, Mendoza had to be driven to distraction.

"Would... would someone tell those two... to shut it, and... and let me die... in peace?" Jack rasped.
"You're not going to die," whispered Rhys.
Jack smiled at his friend. "Always the optimist." He leaned toward Rhys so he could whisper and still be heard over the argument raging outside the cell. "Get yourself... out of here. Stay alive... for that pretty girl... in Wales What's her name? Something... with lots of consonants..."
"Rhiannon. And you're gonna be at the wedding."
"Oh no. I hate weddings. They scare me. Smell like... commitment."
Jack was suddenly overcome with another coughing fit, this one worse than the last. When it was over, his eyes were wide, almost panicked. He looked at Rhys, then to Briggs. Josiah had never seen his friend's eyes so full of fear. Every breath was a struggle, and Jack Wolfe was losing.
"This is it, lads," he wheezed. "Too tired... have to sleep..."
"Stay awake, Jack," implored Alejandro. "You can't go to sleep. Not yet."
Jack ignored the monk, and looked to his friends. "Fat lot of good you sods did. But thanks... for trying." He blinked a few times, swallowed hard, and gave a short, coughing gasp. "Blimey..."

Briggs could only stare in stunned silence as his best friend's eyes slowly closed. Rhys felt Jack's hand gradually go limp. He looked at Alejandro, who's face was the picture of serenity and comfort.
"It's all right," the monk said quietly. "You'll see."
He said a quiet blessing and made the sign of the cross on Jack's forehead. He then rose and walked toward the cell door. When he reached Briggs' side, he paused and leaned close.
"Faith, brother. Faith."
Briggs gave him a pained, confused look. A solitary tear ran down the gruff quartermaster's cheek.
Alejandro nodded, then went to the open cell door and cleared his throat. Rodrigo and Mendoza didn't hear over their own quarrelling. With uncharacteristic strength in his voice, he said, "Gentlemen!"
The two warring men stopped and looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.
"Gentlemen," Alejandro repeated calmly. "Jack Wolfe is dead."
Dolan stepped to the bars of the cell and looked at his friends. Briggs was now at Jack's side as well. Rhys looked back at Dolan and shook his head.
Rodrigo sighed and crossed himself, and said a silent prayer.

A cruel, satisfied smile curled Mendoza's lips.
"Well, Brother Rodrigo. It would seem I win after all."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Mendoza's words were the last straw for Briggs.  He had contained his anger and hatred for the Spaniard far longer than even he could believe.  The quartermaster's face contorted into a mask of wordless rage.  Enough was enough.  Mendoza was going to pay for this latest crime with his life.  He began to get to his feet when Rhys grabbed him by the arm.  Josiah tried to pull free, but Rhys gave him a stern look and slowly shook his head.  He understood the desire for revenge, but acting on it would only serve to get them all killed.  One death today was already too much.

"And what is it you have won, Diego?" Rodrigo asked wearily.
Mendoza buffed the polished handle of his walking stick with his sleeve.  "Honour is served."
"You have a twisted definition of the word."
"I would not expect you to understand, Brother Rodrigo.  What is honour to a monk?"
"You are the one who doesn't understand, Diego.  Honour is best served in mercy.  Something you know nothing about."
"This grows tiresome to me..."
"What is tiresome is your capacity for cruelty.  Is there no remorse left in your heart?  Not one shred of regret?"
"Oh, I have a regret," said Mendoza.  "I regret that Jack Wolfe was far weaker a man than the legends would have us believe.  If only half of them were true, he would spring back to life before our eyes.  But the invincible pirate was no more than a pathetic mortal."
"As we all are," Rodrigo reminded him.  "Pathetic, flawed, and in need of forgiveness.  Some more than others."
Mendoza tried to pretend the abbot's words didn't bother him.  "As per our agreement, Brother, you may remove the body.  Preferably before the rats take an interest in it?"  He nodded to the guard who had brought him.  "Fetch the mule cart."
The guard quickly departed to order up the narrow mule-driven cart Mendoza regularly loaned to the monks for the removal of his expired "guests".  It was common for the livery to have the mule hitched and ready when the monks came to visit, just in case.

Rodrigo shook his head in disgust.  He then turned his attention to Alejandro.
"Brother Alejandro, attend the body, please."
Alejandro nodded, and loosened what appeared to be a small bedroll from the small of his back.  In fact, it was a shroud for carrying dead bodies from the prison.  He gave one end to Rhys, and the other to Briggs.
"Lay it out flat on the ground, and lift him gently onto it," he instructed.
Briggs looked at Rhys, still in a state of disbelief and shock.  Rhys walked to Alejandro's side and spread his end out on the dirt floor.  Briggs mechanically followed suit at his end.  Without hesitation, Rhys went to Jack's body and hooked his hands under Jack's arms.  Briggs hesitated, then took hold of Jack's boots at the ankle.  Together they lifted him onto the shroud, and folded it over his prone form.  Alejandro crossed himself, and gave them a sympathetic smile.
"Brothers, please lift him and follow me.  Brother Juan, attend them."
They lifted Jack's body and followed Alejandro out of the cell toward the stairway.  As they passed Mendoza, the man's face grew concerned.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Wait!"  he cried.
Rhys and Briggs froze, not knowing what to do.
"What is it now?" Rodrigo asked, his tone fully exasperated.
"I want to see the body."
"You made this just a body.  Why do you need to see it again?"
The truth was, Mendoza was a superstitious man.  And many of the stories surrounding Jack Wolfe were built on common superstitions.  And that worried Diego Mendoza.
"I want to see that he is indeed dead."
Rodrigo sighed, and motioned to Rhys and Briggs to set Jack's body on the ground.  Rodrigo pulled back the shroud from Jack's face.
"Look, Diego.  Look into the face of death.  The face you killed.  Are you satisfied?"
Mendoza shook his head.  In one motion, he pulled free a short, thin sword from his ornate cane and held it aloft.
"I shall be, once I am certain once and for all he is dead!"
Rodrigo did his best to interpose his body between Jack and Mendoza's blade.
"Diego Mendoza!  You will not defile this body!  You have done enough to cause this man's death.  You will not mutilate him, not without killing me!"
Mendoza's eyes were wild, almost panicked.  Slowly, he regained control and sheathed the sword.
"What assurance can you give me that he is indeed dead?"
"Brother Alejandro's word is not enough?"
Mendoza shook his head.  "No.  I require more."
Rodrigo gritted his teeth.  "Fine.  Then I shall give it to you."
He dug around in his pouch and produced a small metal mirror wrapped in cloth.  He took the mirror and placed it under Jack's nose.  If a person were alive, their respiration would produce fog on the mirror's surface.  Rodrigo held it there a good thirty seconds, and the mirror never fogged.
"Are you satisfied now?" he demanded.  "Jack Wolfe does not breathe.  He is dead.  By your hand."
Mendoza took a long, hard look at Jack's body, his jaw visibly clenched.  Without unclenching his jaw, he muttered, "Yes."
Rodrigo motioned to Rhys to cover Jack's face and continue on.  Rhys did so, and the small precession began ascending the staircase.
"I never thought I'd see this," remarked Rodrigo.
Mendoza looked at him dismissively.  "See what?"
"I never thought I would ever see you so afraid of another man, especially a dead one."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Jack Wolfe is dead.  You saw to it.  Yet that wasn't enough for you.  You wanted to plunge a sword through his dead heart, just to make sure he wouldn't spring back to life like in the tavern stories you spoke of." 
Rodrigo cocked his head and smiled.
"Deigo Mendoza, afraid of a corpse.  Jack Wolfe was indeed a greater man than you will ever be."
Mendoza's eyes flared.  "Get out.  Get out, now!  I will not tolerate this talk!" he raged, spittle flying from his mouth.  "Never forget this, Brother Rodrigo!  I am a great man!  Do you hear me?  A great man!  I fear no one!  No one!!"
Rodrigo smiled and gave a half bow.
"So you say, Diego.  So you say.  I take my leave of you."

Rodrigo quickly ascended the staircase and left the makeshift armoury to find Jack's body loaded on the mule cart.  Alejandro was already in the driver's seat.
"Make swift, brother," said Rodrigo.  "We have much to do."
Alejandro nodded, and slapped the reins against the little mule's flanks.  The mule gave a half-hearted buck and began to pull forward.
Rodrigo looked to Rhys, Briggs, and Dolan, and found bewildered faces.
"Come.  Quickly.  Our work has just begun."
He turned and walked away quickly, and the three fell in line behind him.  They followed the cart out of the main gates of the fortress.  There was no way they could keep up with the trotting little mule, but they walked as quickly as humanly possible.
No,
Once they were two blocks away from the fortress, Briggs jogged caught up to Rodrigo.
"What in the hell, pardon my language, is goin' on?  What work is left to do besides buryin' him?"
"You will see, soon enough," said Rodrigo, never breaking stride.
"That's it?  I'll see?"
"Yes, you will see."  Rodrigo looked over at Briggs.  "And if you want to see your friend alive, you will be quiet and walk swiftly.  There is not much time."
Briggs' eyes went wide.  Without another word, he fell back with Rhys and Dolan, and walked as fast as his sea legs would carry him.
"What did he say?" asked Dolan.
"Jack's alive, mates.  So we'd best talk less and walk more!"

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Rodrigo led the three men to the back side of the abbey property.  The cobblestones turned into a dirt trail, and they could see the fresh tracks of Alejandro's cart.  They continued to walk quickly, not wanting to lose a single precious moment.  Alejandro appeared at the gate.  He opened it, urgently ushering them through, and locked it behind them.  The nervous monk fell in behind the group, whispering prayers the entire time.

They reached the cart that carried Jack.  The mule was content to stand and doze after the vigorous trot Alejandro had asked of it.  Rodrigo crossed himself for the benefit of anyone who might be watching, then drew back the tarp that had served as Jack's shroud.  Jack's features were still slack and seemingly lifeless.  Briggs had seen him asleep  or passed out plenty of times before, and his friend never looked like this.
"Are ye sure he's still alive?" whispered Briggs.
Rodrigo nodded, and proceeded to pinch Jack's nose closed.  After a few long seconds, Jack's mouth opened as he involuntarily gulped a breath of air.
"We must get him inside," said Rodrigo urgently.
"Ye ain't got to tell me twice!" said Briggs.  "Dolan, grab his legs.  Lively now!"
The two men pulled their unconscious friend from the cart and carried him between them as they followed Alejandro into the abbey. 

Rhys walked alongside Rodrigo.  He tried unsuccessfully to ignore the small graveyard off to one side, and the two freshly dug graves that gaped patiently skyward.
"We open one or two graves before we make our weekly call on Mendoza's prison," said Rodrigo.  "Then pray they will not be needed."
"I can't tell you how glad I am they won't be," Rhys said.  "I'd call that lucky."
"God chose to smile today.  We can all be grateful for that."
"And that we are.  Your ingenuity saved Jack, and all of us.  Brother, I must ask, what was that you put in his water?  Something to drug him, to give the appearance of death?"
Rodrigo shook his head.  "Your friend is close enough to death without such help.  No, it was something much simpler.  An extract from the roots of the valerian plant.  The Indians here have a name for it that means 'all heal'.  It eased his breathing, calmed him and helped him fall into a deep sleep, nothing more."
"But, I don't understand," said Rhys.  "You held a mirror to his face.  He wasn't breathing."
"A parlour trick.  Its surface was coated with lye soap and polished several times."  Rodrigo smiled.  "Such a mirror will not haze from your breath."
"Brilliant!" laughed Rys.  "I'll have to remember that trick!  I'm glad you were able to sell it so effectively.  For a moment, it looked like Mendoza was going to make doubly sure."
"Diego is a murderer and a coward, and carries the guilt that goes with it no matter what he pretends.  That I can still reach it is all that matters.  But enough of our little deception.  The work of saving Jack has just begun."

They hurried between side of the abbey that housed the monk's cloisters and an outbuilding containing the abbey's kitchen and bakery.  They went through a heavy wooden door, and Rhys knew instantly where they were.  It was the end of the hallway near the cell where they had dressed that morning.  He and the abbot quickly slipped inside the cell and shut the door.
Jack was laid out on the bed, still unconscious.  Alejandro was putting leaves and roots from a compartmented box into a stone bowl.  He then ground them together with a pestle made of the same dark stone as the bowl, pausing to add water every now and again as he made a paste.
"He says it's medicine they learnt from the local Indians," said Briggs.
Rhys looked at Rodrigo.  "More herbs to help him rest?"
"No," replied the abbot.  "These are to give him strength and encourage his body to heal.  We teach the Indians God's word, and they teach us new ways to heal.  It is a good trade."
They watched as Alejandro poured some wine into the bowl and create a thickened solution.
"The wine makes it taste better and will help dull his pain a little," he said.
"Ye don't know Jack," said Briggs.  "It'll take more than that for him to notice it at all."
Alejandro transferred some of the dark, pungent liquid to a cup.
"Lift his head."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Briggs propped Jack up, using one of the monk's robes as an additional pillow.
"Jack?  Hey, Jack.  It's me, Briggs," the quartermaster said quietly.  He gently patted his friend's face, trying to roust him from sleep.  "Wake up, mate.  Come on, that's it!  That's a good lad!"
Jack's eyes fluttered, then slowly opened.  He winced as he looked around, trying to get his eyes to focus.  Finally his eyes rested on Briggs' face.
"Oh, no," he mumbled, his mouth dry and tongue thick.  "You dead, too?"
"No, and ye ain't dead neither, Jack.  We got ye out of that stinkin' hell hole of Mendoza's."
Jack frowned as he tried to understand.  "Not... not dead?"
"No.  A little worse for wear, but that be it."
"Thirsty."
"We got ye somethin' for that," said Briggs. 
He moved so that Alejandro could bring the cup to Jack's lips.  Jack smiled a little in recognition at the monk, and opened his mouth.  Alejandro poured some of the liquid into his mouth.  He swallowed, and immediately began to choke and sputter.
"Gah!" he gasped.  "Take me... back to Mendoza.  He... was more... humane."
"You must drink more," urged Alejandro.  "It will make you stronger."
"Lucky for... you... I'm so weak."
"Why is that, my friend?"
"You'd be the... first monk... I ever punched."
"First get your strength back, then worry about someone to hit."  The monk brought the cup back up to Jack's mouth, and this time Jack was able to drink more of it.  Though from the faces he made, the healing elixer tasted awful.
"Taste pretty bad there, ol' Jack?" asked Dolan.
"Tasted better dirt," Jack replied.  "Do I have... to drink more?"
"You must finish it all, as quickly as you can," said Alejandro.
"Yeah," said Jack.  His eyes began to grow heavy.  "You're definitely getting punched.  When I'm not... so tired."
"You need to stay awake a little longer and drink the medicine, Jack."  Alejandro smiled as he helped Jack drink some more.  He was astonished at the pirate's irrepressibility.  It gave him hope that Jack might just pull through.

A sharp, insistent knock came at the door.
The men looked to Rodrigo, who seemed just as surprised as any of them.  The abbot held up his hand for them to remain silent as another set of raps sounded.  He turned and opened the door just enough to reveal his face and nothing more.  There in the hallway stood Brother Esteban.
"Was is it that you need, Brother Esteban?"
Esteban tried in vain to see around Rodrigo, but the taller abbot blocked his view entirely.
"I would speak with you, Brother Rodrigo," he said curtly.  Sweat beaded up on the monk's forehead.
"It will have to wait..."
"No!  We will talk now!"
Rodrigo expression did not change, save to raise an eyebrow at the monk's agitation.
"Very well, Esteban.  As you wish."
The abbot opened the door and slipped through, quickly turning his back on Esteban to keep the monk's view of the room's interior.  Rodrigo paused and locked eyes with Briggs.  He gave a reassuring nod, and closed the door solidly.

"All right, you have my attention.  What is it you want, Esteban?  And why are you in such a state?"
"I will ask the questions, Brother," Esteban snapped.  "Not enough questions are asked around here, or of you.  That changes today."
"Is there a problem with your work assignments?  Everyone contributes equally here, you know that."
"The problem is the secrecy that surrounds you and the workings of this abbey.  Something underhanded is going on here, and I want to know what it is!"
"Brother, you are overwrought.  There is no secrecy here, I assure you.  Perhaps your answers are better found through prayer than accusations."
Esteban reached within his robe and produced an ornate flintlock pistol.  With a shaking hand, he pointed its barrel at Rodrigo's chest.
"Esteban, do not be a fool.  Put the weapon away."
"Get away from the door, Rodrigo.  I am going to find out for myself what is going on here."
"What are you doing with a pistol, anyway?  You know weapons are forbidden within these walls."
Esteban gave him an oily smile.  "A gift from a benefactor, who is also curious about what goes on here."
"Diego Mendoza," said Rodrigo, the contempt in his voice unhidden.
"He and I struck up something of a friendship a few months ago.  If I provided him with information, he would be generous with his rewards.  I have asked to meet with him again this afternoon, to tell him about the strangers I have seen you with."
"Tell me, Esteban.  What did Diego promise you for the betrayal of your brothers?"
"That I will be the next abbot, once you are gone.  Which, I am certain, will be very soon." 

He waved the pistol to one side.  "Step away, Rodrigo.  I will not ask again."
Rodrigo sighed in resignation, and moved away from the cell door.  He kept his eyes locked with those of the treacherous monk. 
Esteban pushed the door open and raised his pistol as he stepped inside.  His eyes went wide at the sight of an Englishman standing near the foot of the bed, and Alejandro tending to another beaten, dishevelled Englishman.  The Englishman that was Mendoza's prize prisoner!
"Alejandro!  Get away from him!" he ordered.
Alejandro stood slowly, but kept himself between Esteban and Jack.
"Do it now!" said Esteban, his voice cracking with stress.
"Oi!  What you doin', playin' with guns?" a strange, gruff voice said to his immediate left.
The monk turned and found a rough looking man with shaggy brown hair glaring at him.  He raised the pistol quickly and started to pull the trigger in panic.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Esteban felt a strong man's arm grab him from behind, forcing his gun arm up and away from the stranger with the gruff voice.  But before he could struggle or cry out, he became aware of a sensation in his back that was cold and seared at the same time.  It seemed to go all the way through his body, through his very heart.  His legs felt like wet ropes, unable to support him any more.  Someone was lowering him to the floor, and a terrible darkness came rushing in like the ocean...

"Oh, yeah.  That's what dead looks like," said Jack.  "Don't worry, Josiah.  You look much better than him..."  With that, he drifted off to sleep again.

Dolan looked up at Rodrigo apologetically.
"I'm sorry, Brother.  He came in here waving that gun, and he was gonna shoot Briggs..."
Rodrigo closed the door.  He turned and looked down at Esteban's body, and crossed himself. 
"Judas will not get his silver today.  You did what you had to do, Mister Dolan.  Esteban made many, many poor choices.  One of which was getting word to Mendoza that you are here."  He turned to Rhys next.  "I'm sorry, Rhys.  But we will not have time to make your friend strong enough to travel.  Mendoza will be here with his soldiers, and they will search this entire abbey.  There is no place I can hide you and your men, or Jack, with any certainty."
Rhys bit his lip.  "No, I suppose we don't have a choice.  If Mendoza thinks Jack is alive, he'll tear this place down brick by brick.  Can we borrow the cart and mule?"
Rodrigo smiled.  "It is not mine to lend.  It belongs to Mendoza.  And despite his iron-fisted ways, Rio de la Hacha is somewhat of a lawless town.  One turns their back on an unattended bit of property, it may well disappear."
"I do like the way you think, Brother!  Briggs, Dolan, let's get Jack loaded on the cart again.  Either of you know how to drive a mule?"
"Aye, me grandpappy was a coachman!" said Briggs.  "Taught me the basics.  And he told me some stories that'd--"
Rhys jerked a thumb towards the abbot.
"-- not be polite to repeat in present company, I'm thinkin'.  Come on, Dolan.  Let's get Sleepin' Beauty into his carriage."
"Wait a moment!" said Rodrigo.  "Please remove his boots and leave them here."
"What?  Them's Jack's favourite boots!" protested Briggs.
"We are a poor monastery, Mister Briggs.  I can sell those boots to buy more medicines with which to help Mendoza's victims, and you know there will be more."
Briggs thought about it for a moment.  "It's a small price for all ye've done, Brother.  It ain't like he can't get more."  He pulled off Jack's boots and left them on the trunk.

Dolan and Briggs lifted Jack carefully and carried him out of the room.  Alejandro picked up a blanket and went with them to help, and to field any questions that might arise.
Rodrigo began silently packing up the medicine box.
"Brother Rodrigo, I want to thank you again for everything you've done to help Jack.  I know you've put yourself at risk, and..."
"I would do it again, Rhys, to stop a life from being needlessly and cruelly taken."  Rodrigo closed up the medicine box and latched it.  Then he picked it up and held it out for Rhys to take.  "You will need this.  I pray there will be enough to keep him alive until you make it back to your home port."
"But, he seemed so much stronger with that little bit Alejandro gave him."
"It was the first nutrition he has taken in a long time.  His body will burn it up quickly.  There are instructions in the box to tell you how to mix the herbs.  Now, go.  Take your friend back to your ship and get him home as soon as you can.  Mendoza will be here any time now, and I do not want him to find you here."
Rhys took the box and nodded.  "We'll leave with the tide at first light tomorrow.  Thank you, Brother.  I wish there was something I could do for you in return."
"Get your friend home alive, so he may bedevil Mendoza once more.  That will be payment enough.  Now, go with God, and quickly!"
Rhys smiled, and left the cell.  Rodrigo looked down at the lifeless body of the traitor, Esteban, and shook his head.
"Your role is not played out yet, brother," he said quietly.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Rhys hustled out the door and jogged toward the cart.  As he approached, he could hear Alejandro giving Briggs instructions.
"Yes, it is the same road the Indians had you skirt as you came into town.  It is quite rough, but it will take you all the way to the bay in half an hour's time."
"As long as it takes us where we're goin', I can handle it from there," said Briggs confidently.  He checked the mule's harness and bridle.  After making a few quick adjustments, he patted the mule on the neck.
Jack was laid out in the back of the cart once again.  The blanket had been put down as a palette for his comfort.  Rhys secured the box of medicine in the cart, then took a step back to figure out their next steps.
"There's not enough room on the bench for all three of us," he said with a sigh.  "And Mendoza probably knows there are three of us, thanks to Esteban."
"I know you, Rhys," Dolan said.  "There's an idea cooking up, I can tell."
Rhys gave a wry smile.  "We hide in the cart with Jack.  It will be cramped, but there's no other way."
"We're all one big happy crew," laughed Dolan.  "Not like we've never been shoulder to shoulder with mates before."
"It's settled then.  Briggs, are you and your steed ready?"
"Aye, as ready as we'll ever be.  We lucked out, I reckon.  This one's still pretty young.  I think I can coax some speed out of him."
Rhys turned back to Alejandro.  "Thank you for everything, Brother.  I wish we could repay your kindnesses."
"Be safe.  That will be payment enough."  The monk made the sign of the cross and said a short prayer for their protection.  "Now, my friends.  Farewell.  Vaya con Dios."

Dolan and Rhys climbed into the cart and pulled the tarp over themselves.  It was tight fit, but it would have to do.  Briggs took his seat on the bench while Alejandro swung open the gate.
"Right, then!"  he said as he took the slack out of the reins.  "Let's see what ye got!"
He shook the reins and make two sharp clucking sounds.  The mule flicked an ear, and did not move.  Cursing under his breath, he looked around for a buggy whip, but found nothing.
"We ain't got time for this," he grumbled.  Remembering a trick his grandfather taught him, Briggs flicked the reins hard, causing them to slap the mule hard on the rump with a loud pop.  The surprised mule gave a little buck and began to move forward.
"That got yer attention!  Move yer lazy arse!  Hyah!"
The mule didn't seem interested in going any faster than a walk, so Briggs gave him another crack with the reins.  That got the mule trotting.  Briggs doffed his hat to Alejandro as they went through the gate and turned down the dirt lane.

As he quickly approached the main road, the mule began to slow down.
"Oh no, ye don't!"  Briggs flicked the reins again, but this time the mule ignored him.
"Damn it all, what I wouldn't do for a whip right now...."  He looked under the bench again, and found a half dozen stones, each a little smaller than a peach and fairly flat.  He picked one up and hefted it, then tapped it loudly on the bench four times.  Once they had made the turn onto the road, Briggs threw the rock hard and hit the mule squarely on the right side of his rump.  To the quartermaster's satisfaction, the mule found the inspiration to start running.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

People on the street turned and looked when they heard the clatter of hooves and wagon wheels on the cobblestones.  They saw the mule-drawn cart racing down the street, weaving around obstacles, the driver clearly unwilling to slow down.  Pedestrians dodged out of harms way and took refuge in doorways and alleys.  A shopkeeper shook his fist and shouted angrily, upset over a large table of casaba melons that had gotten side-swiped by the passing cart as it turned onto a crossing street.

Brother Alejandro had told Briggs where to take jog off the main street to avoid going past the fortress gates where there were sure to be armed guards.  And Briggs new that if the mule caught sight of home, there would be no getting him to go past.
"Ye all right back there?" he called.
"Still here!" replied Dolan.  "In spite of your crazy driving!"
"Think ye can do better, Mister Smart Mouth?"
"Best speed, Mister Briggs!" interrupted Rhys.  "We'll hang on!"
"Aye, cap'n!"  The quartermaster flicked the reins.  "Shift, ye miserable son of a glue pot!"
They took another sharp corner, heading once again for the road out of town toward the bay.  Briggs smiled, confident they were home free.  The smile evaporated when he saw a patrol of four men emerge from the alley.
"Blimey," he muttered.  "Hold tight and heads down!  We got company!"
The soldiers reacted in surprise, and quickly formed a barrier across the street with their bodies.  The head of the patrol, wearing a red shirt under his cuirass, held his hand up for the cart to stop.
Briggs clucked and flicked the reins, urging the mule on.
The leader said something to his men, and they raised their muskets.
The cart sped onward.
The leader raised his own musket and barked an order.  His men adjusted their aim.
Briggs held his breath, but kept the mule running right at them.
The leader shouted another order.  The crack of gunfire rang through the street.

One of the soldiers fell backward onto the cobblestones, his armour chestplate dented inward by the ball from a pistol.  The others were momentarily distracted by their comrade's fall, and realised their chance to fire had passed.  They dove to the sides of the street as the cart rumbled past them.  One man got a shot off as Briggs slowed enough to turn onto the main road.
Briggs shielded his face as splinters erupted from the bench beside him.  He laughed nervously with relief that the shot had gone wide, missing him, his friends, and the mule.  This time the mule didn't need any encouragement to keep running.
"Nice shootin' back there, Dolan!"
"Nice shooting, my arse!  I wanted the commander!"
"Ye did?  Then yer shootin' stinks like usual!"
Dolan laughed as he pulled the tarp back into place over him once again.  He looked over to Rhys, who was keeping a watchful eye on Jack.
"I can't believe he slept through all that."
Rhys shook his head.  "He's still terribly weak.  We'll need to get him back to Barbados as soon as possible."
Jack frowned in his sleep.  His eyes were clenched, and he seemed to be muttering.
"I'm almost afraid to wonder what he could be dreaming about," Rhys continued.
"Briggs' driving, most likely.  I know I'll be having nightmares over it!"

To call it a proper road was a stretch.  In the early days of Rio del la Hacha, the small bay where El Lobo lay at anchor had served as the main port.  Now that the town had its own port facility, the bay and the road leading to it had fallen into disuse, visited only by Indians, smugglers, and pirates.  The jungle was already beginning to reclaim large portions of the road.  Briggs tried to keep the wheels in the ruts, doing his best to avoid where it had eroded or collapsed.  The cobblestone streets of town seemed glassy smooth in comparison.  He let the mule slow a bit, not wanting the animal to stumble or injure a leg.  The mule, however, took Briggs' leniency as a signal to stop.
"Oh, no ye don't!"  He reached under the bench and retrieved another rock.  As before, he tapped it loudly on the bench four times. 
The mule's ears went up in alarm, and it lunged forward, practically knocking Briggs off his bench.  He was quickly able to get the mule under control, but kept him at a trot this time.
When the mule jumped forward, the cart was jerked so hard that all three men in back could not avoid hitting their heads against the front end of the cart.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Ow!" cried Jack.  He opened his eyes and looked around.  "What the... where the hell am I?  And what the hell am I doing under a sheet with the lot of you?"
"It's not a sheet, Jack, it's a tarp," Rhys explained.  "You're in the back of a cart headed out of Rio de la Hacha, back to the ship.  We're rescuing you!"
The cart hit another washed out section with bone-jarring force.
"Did it occur to anyone to take an actual road?"
"This is a road, Jack!" Briggs replied.  "Or what passes for one in these parts!  Glad you're back with us!"
"Only if we survive this wagon ride!"  Jack's head rebounded off the bed of the cart as they hit another collapsed bit of road.  "Ouch!  Damn it!  And what's that stench?  Casaba melons?  I hate those things!"
"Easy, Jack," said Rhys.  "The medicine has you overstimulated.  You have to save your strength."
The cart shook with bone-jarring violence, as if they were rolling across a giant washboard.
"I think I chipped a tooth!  Damn it, I did!  Worst rescue EVER!!" Jack bellowed.
"Anything in that box to knock him back out?  'Cause I'm about to!" yelled Briggs.
"Wait, wait," said Jack.  "The monks...  where's Mendoza?  I was dead!  Oh God, my head is fuzzy."
"You've been in and out of consciousness all day," Rhys explained.  "The monks tricked Mendoza into thinking you were dead."
"They had me fooled, too.  Hearing someone giving you last rights isn't a pleasant experience.  I like Latin, but... at a distance."
"Had us all fooled, you did," said Dolan.  "You make a pretty convincing stiff."
Rhys continued on.  "We pulled you out of that hell hole of his and got you back to the abbey, where the monks gave you some medicine.  But brother Rodrigo tells me that your body will use it up quickly, which is why you need to be still and rest."
Jack closed his eyes.  "Too bad there's not more of it.  I feel as wretched as this road rides.  Wretched and tired.  All Billingsly knows how to do is bandage up what he's cut off.  Gives a good shave, though," he said as he rubbed his face.  "I'm overdue."
"Don't you worry," said Dolan.  "The brothers packed us off with plenty more, eh, Rhys?  You'll be right as rain, just you watch!"
Rhys remembered Rodrigo's words.  "I pray there will be enough to keep him alive until you make it back to your home port."  But now was not the time for truth.  Jack had been through enough.  What he needed now was hope.
"Plenty more, Jack," said Rhys.  "You're going to be just fine with a little food and rest.  That's a promise."

The road mercifully smoothed out as they reached the bay.  Briggs pulled the cart to a stop well in sight of the ship.  He stood and waved his hat in the air, and he could see someone on the quarterdeck wave back.  He then made an exaggerated beckoning motion, indicating that they needed a boat, and quickly.  When the crewman waved again, Briggs jumped down from the bench and went to see if he could be of help with Jack.
"He's asleep again," said Rhys.  "That last bit of smooth road lulled him right out."
Briggs nodded, his face clouded with concern.  "I signalled for a boat.  They oughta have one over double quick.  If not, I'll find out why."
"Spoken like a true quartermaster.  Dolan, you and Briggs fold the tarp up so we can use it as a litter when the boat arrives.  I'm going to have a look at this medicine chest."
Briggs and Dolan set about their task while Rhys opened large wooden box Brother Rodrigo had given him. 
Inside where several linen bags, each filled with dried leaves or roots.  Each one was labelled in Latin.  There was a stone mortar and pestle, and to his relief a folded piece of paper with instructions how to make the medicine for Jack and how often he should be given it.  He knew the responsibility would fall to himself, Briggs, and Dolan to care for Jack.  The ship's barber-surgeon, Jonas Billingsly, was handier with a rum bottle and saw than  he was the finer points of the healing arts.

Rhys looked at the ship, wishing it was the Neptune Rising instead of El Lobo.  Then setting foot aboard her would mean not returning to Barbados, but to Wales, and his beloved Rhiannon.
"I hope you can forgive me, my love," he said softly.  "I'm sorry, but I have to see this through.  I'll make it up to you.  I promise."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

His reverie was broken when he saw the longboat appear from around the far side of the ship and head toward shore.  He sighed deeply and closed the medicine box.
"The boat is on the way, lads," Rhys said, trying to sound upbeat.  "It should be here in a couple minutes."
"Hmph," grunted Briggs.  "It'll be a damned sight sooner, I think!"
He went toward the beach, waving his arms and shouting.  "Oi!  Shift it!  The captain's hurt!  Faster, ye gobs!"
He watched for a moment, and gave a satisfied nod when he saw the tempo of the boat crew's rowing pick up.  He turned around, and saw the mule staring back at him, still breathing heavily from all the running.
"Aw, don't give me that look," Briggs said as he went to the mule's side and patted its neck.  "I know ye ain't used to that much work, but it was for a good reason.  And ye did good.  I wish I had a carrot for ye, or some cane sugar.  Ye earned it, that's for sure."
Briggs took off the mule's bridle, and had just started to remove the harness when he heard the boat beach behind him.
"Well, it's about time ye showed up!"  He took a few steps toward the men.  "Captain's in the back of the cart.  He's hurt real bad, so be careful of him!  Take him over now and get him aboard, then come back for us.  No dawdlin'!  Off with ye!"
The men went to Jack, and lifted him out of the cart using the tarp as a stretcher.  Swiftly but gently, they got him into the boat and started back to the ship.  Briggs looked on as they rowed away.

"YEOUCH!!!" he yelled, and grabbed his backside.  He turned quickly, and found that the mule had stepped up behind him and registered his opinion of all the work Briggs had made him do.  As Briggs rubbed his injured behind, Rhys and Dolan stood to the side, doubled over in laughter.
"Why didn't ye tell me he was makin' a sneak attack?" he complained.
Dolan tried to catch his breath.  "We figured he was trying to settle the score!  I pity the next person handling him when he hears four knocks!"
Briggs tried to stay upset, but the laughter was too infectious.  He burst out in laughter himself, and rubbed the mule's forehead.
"We'll call it a draw, you and me," he chuckled.  He unfastened the mule's harness, and the animal took a few steps forward and looked at him.
"Aw, now don't go thinkin' ye got a new home!  Shoo!  Off with ye!"
The mule took a few reluctant steps toward the road, and looked back.
"Sweet Mother Mary, he thinks I'm his new best friend.  Shoo!  Go!"
Briggs ran at the mule, shuffling his feet in the rocks and clapping his hands.  The mule trotted a couple steps, but came to a stop and looked back again.
"That does it," said Briggs.  He picked up a rock and knocked it again the side of the cart once, twice, three times....
On the fourth knock, the mule brayed in alarm and began trotting down the road.  Briggs smiled to himself in satisfaction.
"Poor fellow," said Dolan.  "A shame he has to go.  He finally met his equal in you."
Briggs smiled proudly, but quickly realised he'd just been insulted.
"Why, I oughta..." he started.
"Save it, lads," said Rhys.  "Here comes the boat.  Finish when we're back aboard.  I'm sure the men will enjoy the distraction."

Once back aboard El Lobo, Rhys made sure Jack was carried below to the surgery.  He was still asleep, but fitfully.  Rhys could feel warmth in Jack's forehead.  A fever was setting in.  It would be a long trip home.
Rhys went to the quarterdeck to find out what had transpired aboard while he was away.  A man named Riley had the watch.
"So, what happened to our Indian friends?  I thought they were supposed to be at the ready to provide a distraction."
Riley shook his head.  "They pulled a fast one, they did.  Said you promised them half the liquor up front.  We delivered, and the next thing we knew they were paddling back out to open water, laughing their fool arses off!"
Rhys sighed.  "Then let's hope the good brothers bought us enough time to get away.  Make the ship ready.  We sail tomorrow morning with the tide."

A loud knock came at the door to the great cabin.  Rhys was startled awake.  It was early in the morning, and he had just fallen asleep after tending to a feverish Jack.
"What?!" he said sharply.
The door opened, and Briggs stepped inside.
"Don't you ever sleep?" Rhys asked testily.
"Not near as much as I'd like to," Briggs replied.  "I hate to bother ye, but we've got a bit of a situation topside."
Rhys rubbed his eyes.  "God, what now?"
"Visitors."

Rhys strode onto the weather deck a pace behind Briggs.  He hadn't bothered to put on a shirt, so he pulled a frock coat around him to ward off the cool night air.
"There, on the shore," said Briggs.
Two men stood on the beach.  One was waving a lantern.  Beside them were what looked to be two oversized duffel bags.
"A glass, and quick," he ordered.  A crewman brought him the spyglass from the quarterdeck.  He looked through it for a moment, and snapped it shut.
"Send the boat and bring them aboard now.  No questions," he said urgently.
"Who is it?" asked Briggs.
Rhys stared out at the two figures on the beach.  "Rodrigo and Alejandro.  Bring them to the cabin once they're aboard."
He picked up a lantern and waved it in response.  The lantern on shore waved again, then was extinguished.  Without another word, he left to make himself presentable for their guests.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Right this way, brothers," said Briggs as he ushered the two monks into the ship's great cabin.  Alejandro was his usual nervous self.  Rodrigo, on the other hand, simply looked tired.
Rhys had the large wooden table cleared off save for a decanter of wine.  With a smile, he stood and motioned for them to sit down.  Briggs took his customary seat at the end of the table to Rhys' left.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable."  Rhys waited for them to be seated.  "May I pour you both some wine?"
Rodrigo smiled wearily.  "Normally we would only take wine as part of the Sacraments, but after the events of today, I believe I shall accept your offer."
Rhys began pouring.  "For you, Brother Alejandro?"
"Yes, please," the monk said quietly.
"So, what brings you aboard?  I have an idea, but I'd rather hear it from you."
Rodrigo took a large sip of wine, and he began to visibly relax as he savoured it's taste.  "It was made abundantly clear to us that our lives are no longer protected by our positions in the Church."
"From Mendoza?" Rhys asked.
"Who else?  He arrived at the abbey two hours after you left us, with a dozen of his soldiers.  One of the brothers tried to stall them, but they threatened to tear the place apart unless Diego was taken to me immediately."  Rodrigo paused for another sip of wine.  "So they brought him to where Alejandro and I were.  In the graveyard."
"For Esteban?"  Briggs asked.
Rodrigo nodded his head.  "Diego demanded that I turn over the three Englishmen Esteban had told him about, as well as Jack's body.  I told him I could do no such thing, as there were no Englishmen at the abbey to give him.  Of course, he demanded to see Brother Esteban as well.  I told him Esteban had left the abbey earlier in the day to buy leather for sandals."
"But, how did ye get around him askin' for Jack's body?" said Briggs.
A self-satisfied smile graced Rodrigo's lips.  "Diego believed that we were in the midst of burying Jack."
"I'm afraid I don't follow," said Rhys.
"We were indeed burying a body.  Esteban's.  Alejandro and I had begun filling in the grave when Diego arrived.  As per custom, the head is covered with dirt first, then downward to the feet.  Before he could demand proof, I pulled the shroud from around Esteban's feet..."
Briggs  began to laugh.  "And lo and behold, there be Jack's boots!  Ye weren't goin' to sell 'em, ye used 'em to buy time!"
"Time was the most precious commodity we have, and the boots bought us all a great deal.  But not an infinite supply.  Diego was already angry about his cart being stolen, which he had heard about from one of his patrols.  When tomorrow comes and Brother Esteban is not there to give him the information he promised...  It was clear our time in Rio del la Hacha was at an end."
"What can we do for you both, Brother?"  asked Rhys.  "Just ask."
Rodrigo finished his wine.  He looked at Alejandro, who was still toying with his cup.  "We ask passage to Barbados with you.  But we have no money with which to pay, so we offer our services in caring for Jack on the journey there."
"Done!" said Briggs and Rhys, almost in unison.
"Mister Briggs will find quarters for you," Rhys went on to say.  "I'll not ask you to bed down with the crew."
"If possible, may we be close to Jack, that we may keep a close watch on him?" asked Alejandro.
"Aye, that should be easy enough," said Briggs.  "We set ye up in the surgery.  There be empty bunks for ye both, and Billingsly don't make much noise unless he's snorin'."
"We do not wish to impose," said Rodrigo.
"Nonsense," Rhys said.  "You're honoured guests aboard this vessel.  It's the least we can do after all the help you've given us."
"Thank you, Rhys and Josiah," Rodrigo said.  "Your kindness is indeed a blessing."
"As is yours, brother.  Briggs, would you kindly show our guests to the surgery?  We sail in a few hours, and I think we can all use our rest."

As the first rays of light broke over the hills outside Rio de la Hacha, the upper sails of El Lobo del Mar were unfurled to catch the morning breeze coming off the land.  Slowly she eased forward out of the bay and into the open waters of the Caribbean Sea.
Rhys Morgan watched the sunrise from the quarterdeck, and said a silent prayer for their journey home to be a swift and uninterrupted one.  Rodrigo had assured him that Jack's fever was controllable between the Indian's herbs and the limited medicines in the surgery, but by no means was Jack in the clear.
"Ten days to Barbados," said Briggs.  The relief of being back at sea was evident in the quartermaster's voice.
Rhys tapped his knuckles on the gunwale.  "Pass word to the men.  Bonus money if they get us home in 8 days."
"Are ye daft?  We ain't got that kind of money layin' about!"
"You let me worry about that, Josiah.  Just get the word around, please?"
"Aye," Briggs sighed.  "I sure hope ye know what ye're doin'."
"We'll find out in eight days," smiled Rhys.  "Full sails as soon as we're free and clear, Mister Briggs!"
Briggs gave him a small salute.  "Full sails, aye!"