Chapter 3

Throughout the next two years, Graciella turned her shipping company into a European-wide industry. She had gained two more ships�"a Spanish Galleon and a small schooner�" as well as two new employees in the former owner’s sons. Young Marco, a spry young 20 year old, was the spitting image of his older brother Carlos. He, being away at the time of the exchange, did not feel as if his life was being ripped away from him. Carlos, however, was still holding a bitter grudge against Graciella. He remained respectful, but distant in his relationship with her. Upon finalizing the distribution of her mother’s estate, Graciella sold her Spanish home. It saddened her, but she knew that she must downsize; it was only her and Amancio now. 

September of 1723 came sooner than anyone had guessed. Graciella had purchased a a quaint home in the heart of Madrid, complete with quarters for Amancio. The determined young woman had also never lost hope that one day she would be able to go after her father, find him, and confront him. Plans had been in the making, maps had been found, routes looked over again and again. 

*****

“Graciella,  if you are to sail for the Colonies, and down to the Caribbean, you will need more than the Gomez brothers with you. I cannot go, someone must stay to keep your company from withering.” Amancio set down the crate filled with papers on his employer’s desk. Graciella had no desire to sift through them and wrinkled her nose. 

“Then I must find men to crew my ships�"men that I can trust.” 

“Sí, that would be most practical. You cannot, however, take men away from the other company ships. My suggestion? Hold interviews at various taverns and dockyards you are well liked here.”

Amancio took the young woman’s hands, grasping them firmly.

“Have faith my sweet. You will succeed.”

A smile brightened Graciella’s face as she nodded. 

“You are right. Tomorrow I will set up a booth at The Siren’s Lair. Then I will make ready for the colonies, find my father, and learn the truth about those years.”

                             *****

Fortunately, Graciella had numerous men, old and young, come to her for the chance to leave Spain and see the New World. She took on 310 additional able bodied men, one cook, and a carpenter. Staying true to her word, within the week, Graciella was able to secure her cargo and be ready to set sail. As they made their final checks and departure procedures; Graciella, being a partially devout Catholic, called her crew to the main deck for a prayer of good luck and smooth travels. 

Amancio wait for the group to disperse before coming up to her and kissing her forehead. 

“A gentleman inquired about some cargo he purchased. He had heard that you dabbled in the slave trade and wish that you deliver his goods to him in London.” 

It was true, Graciella had participated in the dreadful trade in the past, not to her liking. However, it was good money and she always treated the “cargo” as best as she could. 

“A stop in London hmm? I suppose that would not be too much out of my way. It would be good to gain some more provisions before we make the voyage across the Atlantico.” She took the parcel that Amancio handed her and tucked it into the breast pocket of her coat. Turning to her first-mate, Henri, she gave him orders to swiftly get the ship ready to sail in a moment’s time. He nodded silently, turned away and tended to an unruly crewman. 

Just in case of problems, the young spaniard took Marco with her. 

“Ms. Cofresi, why do you deal with the slavers? Don’t you feel sorry for the negroes?”

Marco was such a kind hearted boy. He treated Graciella with the upmost respect and called her family to his friends. 

“Sí amigo. I do feel for them, but it is just good business.”

The two walked up upon two blacks being closet watched by a burley sailor with missing teeth and unkept hair. 

“These yer two n*****s?

Graciella nodded, showing the man her client’s permission letter and seal. 

“Git goin’ ye buggars.” The man growled, kicking the dirt at the male slave’s feet. Graciella held her arm across Marco’s chest, knowing he would get riled and try to attack the man. she shook her head, telling him no. 

“Come along please.” Graciella kindly instructed the two negroes. She took them by the ropes tied to their wrists and gently got them moving back to where she had her ships docked. 

“Ms. Cofresi? Might I please come with you? I do not want to stay here, Carlos is being a horrible grouch, and I want to see the world.”

Graciella chuckled and flashed a smile at the two negroes, who quickly avoided her eye. She admired his gumption and his spunk. 

*****

Curious eyes followed Graciella’s every step as she brought her cargo to the main deck of Le Amor de Cofresi. 

“What are they doing here?” Carlos demanded once he saw the negroes. 

“Hold your tongue master Gomez.” Amancio growled. Carlos shot the older man a glare before stalking away to tend to an arrival of fabric crates. Graciella shook her head, hoping that one day she and the young boy could reconcile. 

“Amancio, I want you to make sure these two are put up well in my guest cabin.” When Graciella had first acquired her company and bought the galleon from a wealthy merchant, she enclosed a small space outside of her cabin; one that contained a single bunk, a desk built into the wall, and  a wash basin. She knew it was a little cabin, not very much room to move about in, but it was away from the rowdy group of men she treasured as her crew. 

“They will be cramped, however, they will be away from the hostility that is sure to arise towards them.”

Amancio nodded and guided the man and woman to their room. Within the hour, Graciella bid goodbye to Amancio and set off on their cruise around the strait of Gibraltar and up to the British Isles.

*****

Le Amor de Cofresi arrived at the Port of London in four quick days. Graciella left Henri and Marco with explicit instructions to keep the ship ready for delarture. Winter would be arriving within the next couple of months, and Graciella did not want to be in London when they received their first snows. Marco wanted to see the famed London, however he reluctantly followed Graciella’s directions and watched as his employer led the slaves towards a warehouse further down the wharf. 

The tinkle of bells sounded when Graciella pushed open the intricately carved door. A tall, needle like man shifted his gaze upward over his spectacles. His nose tilted down in beak-like fashion under which hung a wispy mustache. 

“Allo! Yew mus’ be Madam Cofresi.” He spoke with a nasally voice. 

Graciella cleared her throat to remain respectful.

“Yes sir. How do you do?”

Her client rose from his seat, his towering form leaning over the counter.

“Mr. Bartholomew Douglas, at your service miss. I greatly appreciate you delivering these fine specimens to me.”

Graciella nodded as the gentleman came around the counter to shake her hand. 

“Now, you. Do you have a name?” He addressed the male negro. The man nodded slightly.

“Oui sir. Paul.”

“Ah! A biblical name, splendid. And the woman. Does she have a name as well?” Mr. Douglas walked around the couple, inspecting their muscles and body forms. 

“She is Mary, sir.” 

The shopkeeper nodded his approval and she came back to the front of the slaves. He tilted his head in pondering, his forefinger tapping the pipe he held between his lips. 

“Mary will be my kitchen maid at my estate. The good Lord knows Matilda could use an extra set of hands. Paul, you I will have here, I will show you how to manage the books and�"“ While Mr. Douglas was telling Paul all of this, the front door bells jungled with the arrival of a newcomer. 

What caught Graciella’s attention first was the ominous scar traveling across the man’s face. It started at the left corner of his mouth, went up over his nose and to the outer corner of his right eyebrow. He stood taller than a tree and was so brown from the sun that one might think him from the jungle’s of Africa. His arms bulged out from under his rolled up shirt sleeves with muscles from years working on ships. 

“G’afta’noon suh” hHe spoken with a low cockney accent. Graciella stepped aside while Mr. Douglas greater his familiar customer. A few short minutes passed before the shopkeeper addressed his former patron. 

“As a token of my appreciation�"do let me treat the both of you to a warm meal and a mug of ale.” 

Graciella saw no issue in this�"after all, she knew she would be able to send a quick message to her crew by way of the page boy she saw lurking in the back of the store. She glanced at the stranger, catching his steely grey eyes watching her. 

“Gracias señor, that would be very kind of you. Might I send a message to my quartermaster before we make leave?” Mr. Douglas nodded and called over his page boy. 

“Take this to the Amor de Cofresi and there will be a pretty reward for you young squire.” Graciella told the boy, her eyes twinkling. The little one nodded, took her note and scampered off to her ship. The stranger heard the name of this young woman’s ship and he narrowed his eyes in curiosity; that name sounded familiar, like a faded memory.

“Splendid. I shall lock up then we will be off.” Graciella and the stranger took their leave of the man as he gave instructions to his assistant on what to do with the two slaves. 

No casualties were exchanged between Graciella and the stranger; nothing but cautious glances at each other. Finally, Mr. Douglas stepped out into the sunshine and locked his precious door. In turning around, he looked at his guests and gasped.

“Have you two not become acquainted? Deary me! Ms. Cofresi, may I have the pleasure of introducing you to Mr. Fletcher? He and I have had many an exchange in the past and he is one of my most reliable customers.”

The young man nodded and touches his finger to his brow in military salute. Graciella smiled politely in return.

“good, now, how does the Rusty Anchor sound? Rough place with broads and brutes alike, but the food is hot.” 

The two shrugged and followed Mr. Douglas’s fast pace back down the wharf and into an awaiting carriage.