The Pirate's Treasure (eBook)

A Cape pirate adventure, Book 14

Gerrie Radlof, Pieter Haasbroek (Autoren)

Pieter Haasbroek (Herausgeber)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
77 Seiten
Pieter Haasbroek (Verlag)
978-0-00-072745-9 (ISBN)

Infos

The Mediterranean's most feared pirate hides a deadly secret.

He was once a Dutch naval captain.

Plunge into the Golden Age of Piracy (1690-1720), where the treacherous waters of the Cape of Good Hope are just the beginning of a worldwide adventure.

The year is 1702. Ruthless pirate Fernand Belmonte has seized a crucial island trade post, threatening to ignite war across the Mediterranean. To stop him, Dutch sea captain Oloff van Wagenaar goes undercover. But what begins as a daring rescue mission soon unravels into a sinister web of international intrigue, spun by a shadowy Spanish nobleman whose ambitions could set Europe's empires ablaze.

Captured, stripped of his uniform, and forced into the world of cutthroats and corsairs, Oloff must play a treacherous game of shifting alliances, where one wrong move could cost him his life. Amidst cannon fire and cutlass duels, he finds himself drawn to Maryke, the governor's daughter, whose forbidden love becomes both his greatest strength and his deepest vulnerability.

As battles rage on sea and shore, Oloff faces an impossible choice. Embrace the ruthless pirate identity he despises... or lose everything, including the woman he loves. The fate of nations, and his very soul, hang in the balance.

A swashbuckling historical thriller for fans of Pirates of the Caribbean, Bernard Cornwell, and nautical adventure fiction.

Filled with betrayal, forbidden romance, naval battles, and breathtaking twists.

The gripping first book in the unforgettable Oloff the Sea Pirate saga.

Set sail on a high-stakes pirate adventure you won't be able to put down, in the fourteenth book in this exciting sea pirate series.

Textauszug

14. THE PIRATE’S TREASURE

Chapter 1

“Who’s there?”

The voice is harsh and coarse, clearly audible above the crashing of the breakers against the rocks where the white foam occasionally becomes visible against the dark, rolling Mediterranean Sea. Nowhere, up to the horizon where the pale white stars twinkle, can a light or movement be discerned.

The dark form of the man who spoke is invisible where he stands against the rocks. His rifle is at his shoulder, and the overhanging hammer hesitates above the powder-filled pan. His gaze is fixed steadily ahead on the sharp rocks that are briefly outlined against the splashing foam.

“Who’s there?” he calls again sharply.

Captain Francisco de Ville lies motionless, holding his breath where he has fallen flat on his stomach, not far from the surging water’s edge. He had expected that there would be guards around here, but had still hoped that he could reach the pirate village without being caught. He hesitates, tense, for a little while longer as he decides what the best course of action will be.

“I am a friend,” he answers then, clearly.

The crack of the rifle shot reverberates above the splashing of the breakers. The lead sings past his head and smashes against the rocks on either side of him. The guard shoots accurately! He had apparently been standing attentively, listening to determine whether there was indeed someone among the rocks, and then fired in the direction of Captain De Ville’s voice.

There is a wry smile on the Spanish captain’s lips. The dangers of his mission are only now really sinking in. He had expected resistance therefore he had prepared himself for suspicion, but moments of murderous action such as this are making him now seriously doubt his own judgement. These people shoot before they investigate.

“I am a friend!” Francisco shouts urgently. “I am looking for Captain Fernand Belmonte.”

His words elicit no reaction. However, it somewhat reassures him that he is not immediately shot at again. Perhaps his direct request to speak to Belmonte might carry some authority.

“Who are you, and what do you want from Captain Belmonte?”

“My business with Captain Belmonte is strictly confidential.”

“Put your hands in the air and walk to that open patch of white sand.”

Francisco obeys. To get involved in a fight here would be fatal for him. His eyes search towards the rocks from where he heard the other voice. But he can see no figure, and he comes to the conclusion that the man is most likely hiding because he is not yet sure of Francisco’s intentions.

He stops on the open patch of sand. The palms of his hands, where he holds them above his head, are slightly damp with sweat, and there is an uncomfortable tingling in his back. He can still see nothing of the pirate village ahead of him. He knows that it is around a bend, hidden in an inlet. He hears no sound except that of the breakers, and he is startled when the man speaks here, close behind him.

“That is better, friend. Now at least I can see you. Who are you?”

“I have an important message for Captain Belmonte,” Francisco answers reasonably firmly and with a degree of annoyance, which he does not actually feel. The attitude he is deliberately adopting is that of a captain towards one of his men who is bothering him with unimportant matters at an inconvenient time. He wants him to understand that he is not willing to discuss his identity or the reason for his visit with him.

“Does Captain Belmonte know you?” Francisco’s attitude apparently does not impress the man. His voice is cold and impassive, even brutal.

“It is essential that you take me to the captain urgently.” Francisco de Ville experiences a surge of helplessness, but he shows no sign of it. “Captain Belmonte will not be pleased that you are delaying me here so long.”

The man laughs harshly. The barrel of a rifle nudges roughly into Francisco’s back. The young Spanish captain clenches his fists. A shiver goes through his body, and resistance to this treatment surges up in him. But he manages to control himself.

“Walk then!” the man snaps at him, now with strong glee. “We will hear what Captain Belmonte has to say.”

“I am unarmed,” says Francisco as he walks along the beach, between the rocks, towards the mouth of the inlet. “May I lower my hands?”

“Keep them in the air,” comes curtly from behind.

The breakers in the sheltered bay are smaller than those outside, and above their washing over the white sand, Francisco can now hear sounds of men carousing ahead. He sees lights in the windows of buildings close to the water’s edge. In their dim glow, a few large privateer ships lie at anchor in the bay.

Before he goes around the point of the isthmus, Francisco de Ville looks just once back over his shoulder at the dark sea. Somewhere there lies the Spanish warship with which he came here, and to which there will be no return for him if his mission fails.

The boisterous shouting of men and the shrill laughter of women echo through the narrow passages between the buildings. A few of the pirates who are loitering in the street call out in surprise to their comrade when they see him approaching with Francisco at the point of his rifle.

“He is looking for Captain Belmonte,” the man answers.

They laugh uproariously. Francisco shudders at the sound of it. It contains a hidden threat, and it is mocking, as if only a fool would have the audacity to come and disturb this dreaded pirate captain.

“I want to see that!” one of the fellows calls out, and Francisco knows that he is referring to the meeting between him and Belmonte.

“You may not go in here,” the guard interjects when they arrive at a door in one of the buildings.

“We know that. We are looking through the windows.”

One jumps past Francisco and pushes the door open. Warm air, heavy with tobacco smoke and the disgusting smell of sweet wine, strikes against Francisco’s face. Inside he sees the long tables and the chattering, laughing, singing groups around them. Against the wall are rows of bottles on shelves, and wine is being drawn into cups from large barrels. The wine is running in streams over the floor because the taps are simply left open while one after another holds his cup underneath them. In the dim light of the few lamps that are hanging from the massive beams under the sloping roof, the colours of the extravagant pirate garb are nevertheless sharp.

“Captain Belmonte!” bellows the man behind Francisco when they have stepped over the threshold. “Here is a visitor for you.”

Most of those present look around. The others simply continue with their banter and racket and take no notice of what is going on around them.

Francisco’s anxious gaze wanders over a group of men at the furthest table. He senses that one of them is the man he has come to look for and of whom he has already heard so much.

Then he recognizes him, because descriptions of this pirate have often reached the Spanish coast. He sees the black hair, which glistens with oil and which falls in curls to his shoulders, a black beard, neatly groomed, outlines his dark, sharp face from which two eyes glitter fiercely at Francisco.

Fernand Belmonte’s attitude is relaxed and indifferent. But his movements are like those of a cat as he slides down from the table into the passageway that runs from the door across the floor. There, where he stands across the room from Francisco, the lamplight falls brightly on his face. A subtle smile plays around his lips, and it is only in the cold, black eyes that Francisco finds confirmation of the inhuman cruelties that have already been attributed to this man, and which apparently leave no traces on his attractive features.

“Where did you find him?” the pirate captain asks coolly. His voice is deep and refined, devoid of all brutality.

“He was lurking there on the beach among the rocks, Captain,” answers the man.

“Bring him here.”

Francisco immediately begins to walk between the tables, but even so, the fellow’s foot kicks him from behind. A few of the rowdies along the passageway laugh harshly and call out jeering remarks to Francisco. But when he stands in front of Belmonte, they are quiet again.

Francisco has lowered his arms. He is wearing ordinary seaman’s clothing, and his shirt is torn in one or two places. But his shoulders are back, and although it takes all his effort, he does not lower his gaze. He is fully aware of the implications of the callousness with which he is being treated. It gives him the impression that in this pirate nest, more value is probably attached to a cup of wine than to a person’s life.

His senses are alert, and his facial expression is without emotion. He sees the lightning-fast movement in front of him, and then he fixes his gaze on the razor-sharp blade of a knife that Belmonte has pulled out and whose point hovers here against Francisco’s chest. Even the noisemakers in the furthest corners of the hall are now staring tensely at the scene in the middle of the room.

Slowly, Francisco looks up again. He feels the clammy sweat on his forehead and prays that it will not be visible. He sees the glee in the black eyes before him. But he imagines that he also detects a degree of surprise in them, as if Belmonte had expected a different reaction.

“You are looking for me?” the pirate asks softly.

Francisco nods.

“We do not like strangers!” There is a hissing sound in Belmonte’s voice. “Who are you, and what do you want?” For just a...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 27.8.2025
• Übersetzer: Pieter Haasbroek, Ai
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 0-00-072745-8 / 0000727458
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-072745-9 / 9780000727459