Mexican Marauder (A Captain Gringo Adventure #16) Page 6

  “Look, what’s the point of all this, Flora? I’m not on trial. I don’t owe you any explanations. I don’t give a damn what you think might have happened between Phoebe and me. You can think anything you like. What difference does it make if she indulged in some harmless boasting or if I painted her blue and flew to the moon with her?”

  Flora sighed and said, “I’d like to think she just made it up. But I suppose you must have gone all the way with her.”

  “Yeah? What makes you so sure? Do you peek through keyholes a lot?”

  She giggled wistfully and said, “I said you men are all alike. If you hadn’t been, well, satisfied with yourself when you found me here alone in bed, you’d have doubtless made a pass at me.”

  That did it. He sat up, threw his covers off, and slid over to her as he said, “Hell, if the only way I can prove my innocence is to display some virility—”

  But she flinched away and pleaded, “Don’t, Dick! Please don’t. I didn’t mean it that way at all!”

  Sure she didn’t. But, as it turned out, her protestations were academic. For just as Captain Gringo was reaching for her covers, all hell broke loose!

  A long, ragged burst of machine-gun fire, mingled with the thudding of hot lead into the timbers of Flamenco Lass, flattened Captain Gringo atop Flora Manson as she screamed. But he was only shielding her body with his own as a blacked-out powered launch sped past them into the darkness, still spitting lead from the machine gun mounted on its rail. As he saw what in hell was going on; Captain Gringo snapped, “Stay down!” and rolled off Flora to grope for his gun rig on the deck and draw his double-action .38. He didn’t aim it at the vanishing mystery craft. It was out of range and had ceased fire, too. He just felt more comfortable with a gun in his fist as he ran aft to check the damage.

  The survivors helped, of course, and the news was good and bad. The machine gunner in the launch had stitched a line of bullet holes along the seaward side of Flamenco Lass from stem to stem. Fortunately for the schooner, above the waterline. Fortunately for Captain Gringo and the girl in the bows, below the rail. They’d been aiming at the ports along the schooner’s side. So, below decks, things were messier.

  The stateroom shared by the two girls had been shot to shit, and the air was filled with floating feathers from their exploded empty bunks, proving that virtue does not always offer its own reward.

  The gear in the main salon had been protected by food cases, and, save for beans and bully beef spattered all over, there was no serious damage.

  One of Carmichael’s diving assistants lay dead in his shot-up bunk, staring blankly at the blood-spattered ceiling. When Captain Gringo failed to notice Boggs among the milling survivors in various stages of dishabille, he told Phoebe, for chrissake, to put some duds on, then went to Boggs’s stateroom.

  Boggs lay face down on the floor, covered with blood and mattress feathers. One didn’t have to turn him over to know he was dead. Boggs wasn’t going anywhere important, either. So Captain Gringo shut the door and assembled everyone in the main salon, where he said, “Okay, gang, you all know somebody’s mad at us. With Boggs dead, we’re playing by new rules. Up front, I’m taking command. Does anybody want to make something of it?”

  The Welshman, Rice, said, “I do, look you! Who made you our C.O., Yank?”

  So Captain Gringo flattened him with a left cross, kicked him the rest of the way to dreamland with his bare foot, and said, “I did. Does anyone else have any objections?”

  No answer.

  He nodded grimly and said, “Okay. We’re pressed for time. You, you, and you, start cleaning up the mess. Put all the bodies in the hold-for now. I have to get up on deck before the town law boards us to ask all sorts of dumb questions. Gaston, get your gun and your pants and come with me. You there with the mustache, pour some water over Rice and tell him he has the rest of the watch off.”

  He and Gaston, along with Carmichael, made it to the deck in time. Just. A couple of black constables in white uniforms were approaching the shoreward end of the gangplank.

  Captain Gringo waved down to them and called out, “What can I do for you, chaps?”

  The senior constable called back, “We heard shots, sir. A lot of shots, just now. They seemed to be coming from somewhere hereabouts.”

  Captain Gringo said, “We heard them, too. Sounded like a machine gun. It was somebody out on the water. I’m afraid that’s all we know.”

  “Permission to come aboard, sir?”

  Carmichael stiffened. But Gaston gripped his arm warningly as Captain Gringo answered, “Permission granted. You have my word nobody aboard this vessel fired any shots. But you’re welcome to look about if you like.”

  The two blacks consulted with each other in low voices. Then the one in charge laughed and said, “There’s no need to trouble you, sir. We can see you all are sober gentlefolk, and we’ve a lot of ground to cover.”

  “Sure you don’t want to come aboard for a drink?”

  “Thank you, sir. We’re not allowed to do that. Goodnight to you, sir.”

  As the two white-clad constables moved down the dock and out of earshot, Carmichael let out a wheeze and said, “Coo, I thought we were sunk for a mo, there!”

  Gaston chuckled and said, “Mais non, it was those policemen who were in danger, not us. Our sneaky young friend here knows how to deal with suspicious officials.”

  Carmichael asked Captain Gringo, “Would you have?”

  The American just-smiled crookedly and answered, “Since they didn’t come aboard, we’ll never know. I was hoping they wouldn’t bother, once it seemed we didn’t mind. Never tell a cop he can’t come in, Carmichael. It’s the surest way to get him to at least try.”

  He struck a match to light a smoke before he added, “Okay. We seem to be safe for the moment. But by now even Boggs would have figured out we’re in trouble, if the trouble hadn’t killed him. We’ve been unmasked by the other side. Worse yet, we don’t know who in hell the other side is. We’re going to have to abort the mission, or make some shifty moves indeed in the next few hours. So let’s get cracking.”

  *

  By sunrise Captain Gringo had thought up a dozen sneaky ways to find out who was aboard that mysterious, nondescript schooner anchored farther out in the harbor. But none of them sounded easier or better than simply rowing over in the captain’s gig and asking. When Gaston pointed out that the machine-gun attack might well have originated from other quarters, Captain Gringo said, “So what? Who’s going to open fire on us in broad daylight in sight of a British torpedo ram? That schooner may or may not have auxiliary power. But she’s not about to outrun Royal Navy shells, and the ram will put one across her bows if she tries to up anchor and leave before explaining her noisy habits.”

  Gaston shrugged and replied, “True. But what if they let us aboard and then grab us, Dick?”

  “That’s why I’m going aboard and you’re not. If I’m grabbed, you row over and tell teacher. It’ll blow the mission for sure, but the Royal Navy’s not about to let anyone leave the harbor with a kidnap victim aboard, either.”

  “Are you forgetting you’re a wanted outlaw, or that Britain has an extradition treaty with les States, Dick?”

  “I hadn’t forgotten. But I wish you hadn’t reminded me. You eat the apple a bite at a time, Gaston. The first bite is to identify that schooner over there, so let’s do it.” So they did. Leaving Carmichael in command, Captain Gringo took Gaston and four oarsmen to row out to the mystery schooner. As they approached, figures began to appear on deck. Captain Gringo spotted one in a yellow oilskin and grinned. He said, “We’re in luck. Nobody else is built like Esperanza!”

  The big brunette in the slicker recognized Captain Gringo’s tall blond form at about the same time and waved. Gaston said, “Eh bien, as she raised the arm to pull tight the oilcloth, one observes the heroic tits. But why the slicker in the first place? The sky is clear and the sun is rising hot and dry.”

  Captain Gring
o said, “She sleeps in the buff, and she must have been awakened by her deck watch when they spotted us. It only takes a second to slip on oilskins, right?”

  “You mean she’s naked under that yellow slicker? Ah, but why do I ask such foolish questions. Everyone knows she is a sex maniac.”

  Aware that others were listening, Captain Gringo muttered, “Watch it. I know for a fact Esperanza doesn’t mess around with her crew.”

  “Ah, bad for discipline, non? But you are not a member of her crew, you lucky devil. One takes it there will be no need for us to wait for you in this hot sun?”

  “Let’s cross our bridges when we come to them. It’s the lady’s tub, and it’s been a while. Let’s make for that sea ladder, guys.”

  The captain’s gig bumped against the rungs of the sea ladder down the side of Nombre Nada, and Captain Gringo leaped lightly onto it and hauled himself up to the deck. There he was greeted by the schooner’s mistress, Esperanza, who would have felt flattered to be described as one big tough broad who’d have not only been right at home in a Cro-Magnon cave but probably would have run the tribe. Esperanza was capable of beating to death or screwing to death the average man, depending on how she felt about him. She extended her hand to Captain Gringo and said gravely, “Mi casa es su casa, Deek. It has been a long time.”

  Actually, it had been only a few months. But as they faced each other, knowingly, Captain Gringo felt sorry that he’d been away so long. Aside from being big and tough, Esperanza was beautiful. Her Castilian features were delicately flavored with Spanish Basque and Spanish gypsy genes. Her complexion was that odd shade of ripe peach found only among white Hispanics. Her beautiful face was softened by a frame of wavy midnight-black hair, parted at the widow’s peak above her brow. In truth, it needed a little softening. Esperanza’s brows were heavier than most women’s, and her jaw was bigger and firmer than that of a fashionable Gibson Girl. The other crew members hung back discreetly as Esperanza held on to his hand and said, “Let us go to my cabin where we can be more comfortable, eh?”

  “Should I have my gig wait, Esperanza?”

  “You know better than that, Deek. My own muchachos can row you back, if you ever mean to leave me again, you cruel thing.”

  So Captain Gringo waved his transportation off and wait with Esperanza to her cabin. Like Esperanza herself, the cabin was plush and a little musky. Her earthly odor of perfume and honest sweat would have been less enticing had he not known that she didn’t screw around with her crew. She’d doubtless been in bed with a dozen guys since the last time they’d met. But what the hell, he’d been taking baths between women, too.

  He started to explain his visit. But Esperanza had already locked the door and slipped out of her yellow slicker. So he knew she wasn’t in a conversational mood. He took her in his arms and kissed her. Then he picked her up and carried her over to the wide, soft bunk.

  Captain Gringo had never been married, and a guy in his line of work didn’t get to shack up for very long at a time. But there was something to be said for getting into bed with familiar flesh. Esperanza lay back dreamily as he sat beside her and undressed in silence. There was ho need for words. They understood each other. He simply dropped his duds to the floor and rolled aboard her like an old friend.

  Captain Gringo hissed, “Oh, yesss!” as he entered her lush, dank depths.

  Esperanza wrapped her muscular arms around him but spread her big thighs as wide as they would go as she murmured, “Welcome home, querido.”

  Then they both went pleasantly crazy for a while. As they’d discovered in the past, their bodies meshed perfectly without effort, and each knew how to move without asking. Esperanza was an uncomplicated earth mother who had no problems with sex and climaxed easily and often. As he ejaculated in her and kept going, Captain Gringo was glad he hadn’t scored with Flora after all last night. At the time, he’d been mad as hell at that machine gunner for busting up his budding romance. But even a man as virile as Captain Gringo needed to save up for Esperanza.

  Unlike the confused Phoebe Chester, Esperanza was not a nymphomaniac. She simply liked to screw. She enjoyed it as naturally as if she were a man. So, after they’d climaxed together a few times, she was content to take a breather and nestled comfortably against him as he lay propped on her pillows and lit a smoke. She said, “That was lovely. I was hoping you were in port when I heard that machine gun going off last night Deek. Was that you?”

  He said, “No. I was hoping you might know who it was. I’m working for the Brits on a sneaky-sneaky up the coast. We’re aboard that sharp-looking schooner in the yacht basin.”

  “I noticed it. It has beautiful lines. Is it fast?”

  “Not fast enough to outsail a gunboat shell. Unfortunately, somebody we don’t know seems to have made us out. What are you guys doing here in Corozal, Esperanza?”

  She cuddled closer and sighed. “Hiding out. We are being hunted, too. I’ve contracted to deliver certain industrial products in my hold to the Panamanian rebels. Some damned informer tipped off the Colombian navy. I never expected to run into them so far north, but that’s life. We picked up the arms in New Orleans and were intercepted just south of Belize. We doubled back and sheltered here. I have informers, too. So I know the damned Colombians are waiting for me down among the Half Moon Reefs. I’m still trying to figure out what to do about it.”

  He thought and said, “The Half Moons are unclaimed and off the big bulge in the coast where Honduras and Nicaragua meet, right?”

  “Es verdad. They know we have to round that stretch of coast almost against the prevailing winds, depending mostly on our poor little engine to make any headway at all. It’s a perfect ambush. I’ve been thinking about running north, where nobody’s after me, and putting out to the high seas. We could probably make it sailing south along longitude eighty, well out to sea. But we’re in a hurry. The shipment’s already overdue, and our shore contacts in Panama can’t risk waiting there forever.”

  He took a thoughtful drag on his cigar as he pulled her a bit closer and said, “Hmm. We seem, to have diametrically opposite problems. Your enemies are waiting for Nombre Nada to the south, and our enemies are expecting Flamenco Lass to the north. Do you see what I see, doll face?”

  Esperanza glanced down the length of their bodies and said. “No. You’re still soft.” Then she laughed and added, “Of course I see the opportunity for a ruse, Deek. But, tell me, is the Flamenco Lass as nice a vessel as my poor old Nombre Nada?”

  “What can I tell you? The British schooner is new and well found. She has the latest in gear, new sails, a powerful auxiliary, and so forth. She’s worth three times as much as Nombre Nada on the open market.”

  “Ah, but I am attached to my Nombre Nada, Deek.”

  “I know. So do half the customs officials on the Mosquito Coast. Folks in our line of work can’t afford sentiment, Esperanza. We can’t afford to repeat our patterns, either. The Colombians sitting on the Panamanian rebels have Nombre Nada on their shit list, and they probably have her outline posted on every gunboat they have looking for her.”

  Esperanza began to toy with his genitals as she said, “I told you I understood the picture, Deek. But I must have time to think.”

  So they dropped the subject as she raised another one. This time she got on top. It was a rather novel experience for Captain Gringo to play the passive partner, although he’d done so with Esperanza before, and most women got on top once or twice in the course of an orgy. Most women were not Esperanza. She didn’t just fork her legs over his lap and make bouncy bouncy. She was powerfully built, and although her hips were broader than many a woman’s, she used them like a man did when he made love. She lay full length atop him, legs together and down between his spread thighs, so that anyone looking in on them might have thought, for the moment, that a soft-looking boy was screwing the hell out of an amazingly muscular girl. Esperanza gripped his shaft inside her, almost painfully tightly in this position, and pounded her pubi
c bone against his as she kissed him passionately, obviously enjoying her mock dominance. She even ran her hands under his buttocks to lift his pelvis to meet her thrusts, as a man does to a woman whose derriere is too small. It felt weirdly good and he came fast as she almost milked it with her unusual motions. Then, not wanting her to think he was a sissy, Captain Gringo growled in mock ferocity and rolled her over on her back, without withdrawing, Esperanza instantly went feminine and submissive, spreading her legs and arching her spine to take him in a manner that felt so different that it was like starting over again with a new partner. A very soft and yummy one. They climaxed together in moaning mutual pleasure.

  Then, as he lay limp in her arms and love saddle, letting it soak inside her, Captain Gringo smiled down at her and said, “God damn, you’re good, Esperanza!”

  She smiled back and said, “You are not bad yourself. What do you suppose this magic is between us, Deek? We are not in love. People like us have no right to fall in love. But every time we get together, it feels so good I don’t think it could be any better if we went crazy and got married.”

  He said, “I’ve missed you, too. Like I told you the last time, I think we enjoy each other so much because we’re both knock-around bums who like and trust each other. Of course, you’re not exactly deformed, either. I’d enjoy your body even if I hated you. But, yeah, it does get magic, doesn’t it?”

  She kissed him in an almost sisterly fashion, just to be affectionate, and said, “It feels nice to be in the arms of a real friend. It saves so much of the, how you say, bull-sheet? I know I am very naughty. It is nice to know you know I am naughty and so it does not matter what I do or say. If I told you I wished for to be thrown to the floor and pissed on, you would not be shocked, eh?”

  “Jesus, is that what you want to try next?”

  “Of course not. I am not a freak. The point is that if I was, I think you would be a good sport about it. That is what I like about making love with you, Deek. You are as much a confidant as a lover.”