A Bottle of Rum

by Steve Goble

  “Aye, then,” Odin answered, although he looked disappointed.

  “Daphne,” Spider muttered. “Haunting, she is. Or haunted, I should say. Blabbering on about death. I tell you, she bears watching.”

  “I won’t mind that. Ha! Even if I can’t touch her.”

  “I did not get to talk to her long before she ran off, bellowing about pirates. Then the guards showed up and chased me off, so I could not follow her. I’m wondering if she’s seen Hob. That whore sniffer might have sought her out, I’m thinking, her being as pretty as she is. Hell, he might have gone after pretty Ruth, too.”

  “I’ve seen her now, that Ruth. If Hob’s here, he’s probably had both of them girls,” Odin said. “He’s still young enough to do that, hee!”

  “Maybe.” Spider inhaled from the pipe, realized it was spent, and knocked the dottle out onto the grass. “It is worth asking both of them about Hob. If he is here, though, I wonder why we’ve not seen him ourselves. Unless there are more bunks somewhere, Half-Jim has maybe a dozen hands, all told, as nearly as I can tell by counting hammocks and bunks and running two watches.”

  “A few are on liberty, a fellow told me when I woke up and asked a few questions,” Odin said. “Off to Battramsley, he thought, to drink and fuck. So maybe fifteen hands or so, all counted.”

  “Aye, then,” Spider said.

  “Think we can take them?” Odin meant it as a joke but shook his head when it appeared that Spider was taking the question seriously.

  “I do not want a skirmish,” Spider said after some thought. “They know the grounds and the house better than we do, and we’re only guessing at their numbers. We’d waste a great deal of time shooting and stabbing and we’d likely be dead before we ever found Hob. Too many rooms to search, and a whole third story above we have not even sniffed at. So, no. We’ve got to carry on and explore and play along like good hired ruffians.”

  Odin nodded. “Aye, then. Do you really still think the lad is here?”

  “I hope he is here, and I hope he is alive,” Spider answered. “Little Bob had Hob’s knife, and he told me Hob and other smugglers had been rounded up, and our trail has led us here. So, then, this is the only place I know to search. I still don’t know why Oakes or Fawkes would capture smugglers, though, but I am not sure I care so much about that if I can just find the young fool.”

  “Pressed men?”

  “It could be,” Spider said. “With this Wilson fellow that Oakes frets about raising trouble, maybe Oakes needed fighting men in a hurry. Or maybe he plans a voyage, like you reckoned. I have not heard any of these gents grumbling about being pressed, though, have you?”

  “No,” Odin said, “and I have never met a man who was pressed stop complaining about it. Never! Damned slavery, it is! Goddamned slavery!”

  Spider raised his eyebrows. “I am going to guess you were pressed into the Royal Navy at some point in your long life.” The more he journeyed with Odin, the more Spider wondered about him. He knew the man claimed to have sailed with Blackbeard and to have seen the famed pirate die, but he had no idea how Odin himself had escaped the noose if that tale was true. He knew the man claimed to be a Scotsman, but he’d heard him claim at least once to be Irish. And he had no idea what Odin’s real name was. The man steadfastly refused to share it.

  “Aye. Caught me in Plymouth, they did, me just a lad and having a bit of liberty after a voyage to the Mediterranean. I was on a merchantman crew, I was, and us docked for repairs, and I was in Plymouth getting my throat wet with booze and my whore pipe wet, too, ha! And the damned Navy came along and decided I was going to rig sails for His Majesty, whether I liked it or not. Bugger that bastard, I say!”

  Spider wondered how much of that was true, but he decided not to push. “And here you are, still grumbling about it.”

  “Ha!” Odin nodded. “These lads here, Fawkes’ boys, are lazy as any pirate when there is nothing to steal and no one to fight, but they do not grumble. They like the food and the easy duty.”

  “Aye,” Spider said. “Men here get a place to sleep, decent food to eat, and, so far, the Admiralty is not sniffing about here for pirates. A lot of men would accept that, wouldn’t need to press them, just tell them about the job. Maybe they were pressed, but don’t mind because the food isn’t full of maggots.”

  “Aye,” Odin answered. “Do you think Hob would accept such duty?”

  “Not much glory or adventure in it,” Spider said, “and so he might have run off. The duty here is nothing to one such as Hob. But that Ruth, he might stick around for her, or for Daphne. He follows his pecker wherever it points, he does.”

  “Aye.”

  “Maybe we can ask a few gents if they got pressed without raising too much suspicion,” Spider mused. “Maybe some of them sailed with Bonny. We know there was some of her men about. Fawkes has to be finding his men somewhere, I reckon. You could count on a bunch of gentlemen who sailed with Bonny to be the kind Fawkes would hire, men who are able to handle trouble.”

  “Not Little Bob. He can scarce handle his prick without falling off his bunk. Ha!”

  Spider laughed. “That reminds me, Little Bob killed Tom Bonnymeade because he thought Bonnymeade betrayed the smugglers to their captors, we think. If Little Bob has any mates about smart enough to trace their way here like we did, they might plan a sneak assault or something. Pirates are not known for forgiveness. Lead and blood might fly, my friend. Lead and blood might fly.”

  “It would feel more like familiar territory if so, Spider John. Ha!” Spider realized he was still holding his empty pipe and poked it into the band of his hat. “So where is Hob?”

  “Could be he is one of the hands away on liberty,” Odin said. “I believe they are expected back tonight.”

  Spider raised his eyebrows. “That’s a thought. I forgot about that. Wouldn’t that be a fair wind? Do you think we’ll receive the same posts tonight? If you are posted at the gate, maybe you can plug the young bastard over the head when he comes back and carry him away from here. Hell, I will join you at your post. It ought to be just a few fellows coming back, aye? Maybe even drunk? We can handle those odds, for certain. And if we find Hob we’ll snatch him and all run like the devil is at our heels!”

  “Suppose we don’t get the same orders tonight?”

  “Fuck and bugger that! I say we disobey our orders and choose our own posts, for our own purposes,” Spider said. “I do not rightly care if someone sneaks into the house and disturbs Ambrose Oakes. I don’t care if someone shoots him in the head. Do you?”

  “Ha! No.”

  “I care about Hob, and that is it. You were right, Odin. No need to poke our noses into the affairs of other folks, especially one such as Oakes. We’ll take care of our own, we will, and the devil take the rest!”

  “This is the most sense you’ve made since I met you,” Odin said.

  “Very well. We have a plan. While we wait, let’s both explore, quietly, and see what we may see. If either of us learns anything of use, head to the ship’s bell. It can be our rendezvous.”

  “Fine,” Odin said. “I am going for the barn and stables back east of the house, see if maybe there are more bunks or signs of a larger force here. I’d like to know how many men I have to kill if it comes to that.”

  “If you ask any questions, be subtle,” Spider said. “Don’t go waving a pistol or poking your knife into anyone’s eye.”

  “Do you think me crazy, Spider John?”

  “Aye, I have no fucking doubt of it, really. I’m thinking of wrapping you in a wet sheet to keep you from trouble.”

  “Aye, then. I will go about pretending I’m not a real man who can fend for himself, then, and just meekly ask my questions, like a goddamned psalmist or something.”

  “While you do that, I will seek out Ruth. It seems Half-Jim and she are bunkmates, by the way.”

  “So he’s not cut in half down there, then.”

  Spider ignored that remark. “If Half-Jim
and Ruth are together and Hob got in the middle of that, the lad might well be under one of those mounds.”

  “Spider John, I have seen Hob fight, and so have you. I know you think him a little puppy, but he knows gun and blade as well as anyone, and what’s more he actually loves to fight. Ha! I do not see a one-armed, one-legged man besting Hob. I truly don’t.”

  “I have seen Half-Jim fight, too.” Spider shook his head slowly. “He’s mean, and tough, and he has no fear.”

  “I’ll bet you a bottle of rum Hob wins,” Odin said.

  “We can’t pay for a bottle of rum between us.”

  “You still owe me a bottle, from the chess.”

  “Just trust what I say about Half-Jim, and do not ever call him Half-Jim.”

  21

  After they parted ways, Spider took a roundabout path back A to the house. At this distance from the house, he spotted no sheds or outbuildings that might serve as a brig for a young troublemaker like Hob, or as a hiding place if the lad was on the run. He was about to give up when he saw a tall young man leap over the north wall.

  The man ran swiftly for the cover of a wide oak, and Spider took up a similar station. His first thought was that this was an assault, perhaps Mister Wilson or even one of Anne Bonny’s crewmen on a raid. But the sun was bright, and Spider could not make out a single weapon. If this was a raid, it was poorly planned.

  The mysterious man loped to another tree, and then another, and it seemed his aim was to avoid being seen from the house. Spider drew a knife and followed at a distance, taking care to avoid being seen.

  The man he chased was big, and wide-shouldered, and his bare forearms showed the kind of muscles that came only with much hard work. Long blond hair hung in a ponytail across his broad back. He took a zigzagging path toward a point behind the barn, and Spider wondered immediately if Odin was still poking about in there. Spider scouted a path that might get him unseen to the barn—and past the goddamned chickens—before the interloper could catch Odin in there, but the odds were not good.

  Once the man was behind the barn, though, and in a place where he could not be seen from any of the barred windows in the house, he walked into the open and strode confidently toward the barn. The man rounded the corner just as another man—not Odin—emerged from the building, and they exchanged friendly waves.

  Was this one of Fawkes’ men, then, come sneaking back after taking an ungranted liberty? Spider rushed to another tree, to be close enough to aid Odin if the old pirate was caught hiding in the barn. He could now see inside, where the giant man was brushing the mane of a brown mare. He saw no sign of Odin.

  Spider watched the man work until he figured there was no way Odin would have patiently remained in hiding for so long, then snuck off himself to ponder this new mystery.

  22

  Head down and meandering like a pup sniffing out a place to pee, Spider wandered near the pond and the south wall. He was hoping to find Ruth on watch. Instead, she found him.

  “What are you doing?” She approached without a weapon in hand.

  “I was posted to patrol here last night, and I lost a good knife,” Spider lied.

  She brushed hair away from her face and smiled. “Is that so?”

  “Aye,” Spider said. “It is so.”

  “Not looking for something else, then?” Her attitude seemed flirtatious to Spider, but he realized that might just be a wishful thought on his part. Spider also noted her hand stayed close to the pistol tucked into her belt. He remembered she also carried knives at the small of her back.

  “Just the knife,” Spider said. He winked. “I am sure you have plenty of attention from the gentlemen, but I saw you with Fawkes earlier and I have no wish to cross him. No wish to cross you, either, I dare say.”

  “See that you don’t,” Ruth said, without a trace of coquetry.

  Spider had hoped speaking about attention from the crew would lead her to mention any previous attempts at dalliance, perhaps even some attention from Hob, but she said nothing. Instead, she spun about slowly, peering at the ground in search of Spider’s fabricated knife.

  “How many hands in Jim’s crew?” Spider continued his ruse of seeking the blade. “And are they all shipmates of his?”

  “Some are old mates, but I do not know how he met them all. Shy of twenty of us. Fawkes goes to Lymington on errands from time to time and does some recruiting while there, and now and then a fellow drifts away, as they will, so he hires a replacement. Most of them seem the rough sort.”

  “Aye,” Spider said. “Seafaring men, all of them, I dare say. Better food here, though, than on any leaky bucket I served aboard. I like the fresh eggs. I had a cap’n once who thrashed a man for making chicken stew because stewed chickens can’t lay eggs. I didn’t care for that cap’n much, but I wholly agree with him on the quality of fresh eggs.”

  Ruth laughed, and Spider thought it somewhat magical. Sorry, Em.

  “Did your cap’n really thrash a man over eggs?”

  “Aye, indeed,” Spider said, “although, to be entirely honest, he was the sort of bastard who looked for reasons to thrash his men.”

  Ruth laughed again. “I have known the sort.”

  “Oakes and Fawkes seem to treat the men fairly.”

  Ruth’s mood darkened. “The men are treated well,” she said. She started to say something else, seemed to reconsider, then continued. “They know enough to not spur a mutiny, Fawkes and Oakes do, although Jim can be rough if he’s not obeyed.”

  “Aye,” Spider said, noting the sudden change of wind but having no idea how to navigate it. “Good food, easy service. No need to press men into service here.”

  Ruth went back to looking for the fictional knife. “Jim always says give a man leeway but keep a watch. Treat him honest and see if he treats you honest in return. Most of them, he says, won’t.”

  “Aye,” Spider said.

  “So Jim says be ready to shoot or thrust if they turn on you, but be fair before then. A man treated well might steal from you or betray you, Jim says, but a whipped man will certainly bite you, make no mistake.”

  “These gents all have a pirate look about them.” Spider continued. “I have not seen any of my own mates here. I sailed with a young man who supposedly has family near Lymington. His name is Hobart, but we called him Hob. Young, fair-haired, good-looking fellow, strong and quick. Have you seen anyone like that about?”

  Ruth stopped looking for the knife and looked up at Spider. “Is that why you came here? Seeking an old shipmate?”

  “Well, no,” Spider said, though her sharp gaze made him think he was foundering on hidden rocks. “I found myself in Lymington because the sea became a bit of a hazardous place for me and my friend to be. Plymouth seemed a bit hot, with lots of the king’s lads rushing about, you know, and so many hangings in recent years. The sweet trade ain’t so sweet now. Odin and I did not want to be next.”

  Ruth fixed him with a piercing stare. “A lot of men have been dangled, it is certain. A lot still ought to be.”

  He blinked. “Well, I hope the Admiralty never catches up to me, whatever I may deserve.”

  “If I should happen across an officer, I’ll keep your secret, so long as you deal with me honest.”

  “Good, and should it ever chance to pass I will not tell them about you. Though I do not even know your full name.”

  “Ruth Copper.”

  “Is that your real name?’”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it is a wise pirate who does not give her real name to any buccaneer who smiles at her.”

  “Are you flirting with me, Spider John Rush? If that is your true name?”

  “I am not,” he said, realizing it was a lie. “I know Jim Fawkes well enough to know that he would not respond well to that, and I suspect you might not like that much, either.”

  “Well, then,” she said, “you were telling me how you did not come here with some secret purpose, even though you pay att
ention to everything and always seem to be wondering.”

  “Do I?”

  “Aye,” she said. “You seem a right sneaky fellow to me, always peering at the windows and listening to conversations.”

  “Ruth, I came here to this place because I heard there was work, no other reason. I do seem to recall my friend Hob mentioning a home near Lymington, though. Thought maybe he’d found work here, too. That is all.”

  Ruth did not respond to Spider’s claim. “I have dallied here too long, I think. I am going to continue my patrol,” she said. “I hope you find your knife.”

  “Very well, then,” Spider said. “Thank you.”

  Spider pretended to search until Ruth was out of sight, then he turned back toward the house. There was no sign of Odin near the ship’s bell behind the kitchen, so he veered toward the graves not far from the front of the house.

  The clearing contained three mounds, and it seemed to Spider they all had been dug recently, but not at the same time. One had the beginnings of grass growing atop it and had begun to settle. The newest one was piled highest and still dark brown. None of them were marked in any way, but each was a bit wider and longer than a coffin.

  The idea of being buried in the ground unsettled him. He’d always imagined his own death would be a violent one at sea, and that his body would be cast overboard to sink into the briny depths, perhaps with a Bible reading but most likely not. Most of the deaths he’d seen had ended that way, with no marker and no place where mourners could come to pray. Those deaths ended in a splash, in a place no one would ever find again.

  These unmarked graves were not so different, he realized. They only did their work more slowly. Soon the mounds would settle and the grass would obscure them. No one passing would know the dead rested below.

  Spider knelt by the graves and prayed. Don’t be down there, Hob. Don’t be down there.

  23

  The ship s bell rang, calling the day watch in from duty and the night watch to assemble. Spider, who had learned little else of note that day, headed to the kitchen for a quick meal before heading out to his post. No matter where he was told to patrol, he would find his way to Odin’s side near the gate in hopes that Hob would return with the away party. If so, they would all flee from this madhouse together, and they would cut, stab or shoot anyone who got in their way. The idea that Hob might be among the men returning from liberty buoyed his spirits, and he almost looked forward to a little action to ease the tension.