A Bottle of Rum

by Steve Goble

  33

  He was bouncing, and apparently upside down, and his head felt like it had been fired from a long nine.

  Spider opened his eyes, and realized he was being carried over a man’s shoulders. He looked down at the hardwood floor, and immediately recognized the boots of the man carrying him.

  He also recognized the limp.

  “Odin,” he whispered. “Put me down.”

  Odin did so immediately, placing Spider on his arse with his back against a corridor wall. “If you were a bigger man, Spider John, I’d have left you back there.”

  Spider glanced around and realized he was still upstairs, not far from the laboratory. Gold Peter was bleeding all over the floor outside the laboratory door, surrounded by shards of Fawkes’ shattered crutch. Behind him, in the intersection of hallways, Simon sat below the window with a red hole in his forehead. The window was stained red, and dripping.

  “Is everyone dead?”

  “I don’t know,” Odin answered. The man was breathing hard. “Blubber whale Oakes took a knock when he fell, like you did. I left him there. I stabbed Half-Jim in the back, then grabbed the gun from his crutch holster. Handy, that. Grabbed this damned thing, too.”

  Odin hoisted the small sickle Fawkes had carried behind him. “This might be better than the axe. So Peter and Simon came rushing,” he continued. “I shot one and busted the crutch on the other, then I snatched you up and decided we did not need to remain here one goddamned minute longer. I am for leaving, Spider John.”

  “You are one tough bastard, Odin. How is your leg?”

  “Better than your leg.” Odin pointed at a bloody cloth wrapped around Spider’s thigh. “Oakes poked you. You’ve had worse pains, though, so don’t dawdle. Let us flee!”

  “No. I do not yet know what became of Hob.” Spider touched his nose. It was swollen, and his hand came away bloody, but the nose did not seem to be broken.

  Odin spat. “I knew you would say that.”

  Spider rose, slowly, wiping his sleeve across his bloody face. “Is everyone else still out chasing ghosts? Or did the gunshots bring them all running?”

  “I have been a might busy killing everyone while you took a nap, Spider John. I have no bloody idea where they all are.”

  “Aye. Well . . . Wait. Do you hear?”

  Spider pointed toward the steps. Someone was rushing up them. Odin and Spider prepared knives. Spider was poised to throw and Odin set to pounce when Ruth appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “Spider! Odin!”

  Neither man attacked, but both remained ready. The woman had a flintlock in her right hand, and two good dirks on her belt.

  She lowered her gun. “I came to help you.” She glanced over the dead men in the corridor, caught her breath, then looked at Spider.

  “Help us?”

  She nodded.

  Spider tilted his head. “Last I talked to you, woman, I was a mouse in a cat’s jaws. I thought you planned to betray us to Half-Jim?”

  She bit her lip. “I . . . I thought then that you were with Bonny’s men. Or maybe Wilson’s hire. I thought you and your friend were spies. But when you told me you came to save a friend, well . . .”

  “Well?”

  She gulped. “I believed you. I do not think I have ever met a man who would wander into a viper’s nest like this one to rescue a shipmate. Most men I’ve known would think only of their own lives.”

  “Maybe,” Spider said. “There’s not many who’d be worth the risk, but Hob is.”

  She stepped forward. “So I want to help you.”

  Spider lowered his own knife. “Do you know where Hob is?”

  She shook her head. “I can tell you this much, though. I saw the men, Bonny’s smugglers, when Jim and the boys brought them here. There was a young blond man with them!”

  Spider’s heart drummed. “Where is he now?”

  “I do not know,” Ruth answered. “I truly do not. But the captives were brought up here, like patients. I know that much. And I have heard no one tell of an escape. Jim would have raised hell over that.”

  “So Hob’s in one of these rooms,” Odin muttered, “or in one of those graves.”

  Spider headed toward the laboratory. “Oakes has a key, probably a master or he’d have a whole ring of them. I’m going to get it, and then we’re going to find Hob!”

  Spider entered the laboratory.

  Fawkes was face down, bleeding badly from the back. But he was rolling over.

  Half-Jim had three guns, Spider remembered. Two on his chest, one on the crutch. And I can account for only two.

  Spider saw the pistol in Half-Jim’s hand and dodged. Thunder cracked, flame fired, smoke and lead flew and steel flashed. The pistol’s ball burrowed into the wall.

  Spider’s thrown knife burrowed into Half-Jim’s neck.

  Ruth and Odin sprang into the room, weapons ready. Spider shook his head. “I had no choice, Ruth.”

  She stared at Fawkes and swallowed hard. “Do not fret. I shall not miss him as you might suppose.” But a tear clung to her cheek just the same. “I wasn’t with him because I liked him.”

  She left the room quickly.

  Fawkes stared, unseeing, as Spider retrieved his weapon. He wiped it on the shirt of Ambrose Oakes as he lifted the key from the man’s pocket. Oakes lived, breathing shallowly. He had a horrid bruise on his head, but no blood loss.

  “I ought to kill you,” Spider whispered. “But I am trying to leave bloodshed behind. Lucky for you, you son of a bitch.”

  He started to leave, but a glance at dead Bram and the jar on the floor stopped him. Spider knelt by the jar, grasped the hose and sliced it with his knife. He looked at Bram. “Don’t know if your soul is really in there, but if it is maybe it won’t stay there.” He glanced upward, wondered whether God or devil would wrestle for claim on this boy, then dashed into the hall.

  “I have been trying to figure which room is Hob’s, but they all look the same,” Odin said.

  “I know a way,” Spider said. He filled his lungs, then shouted: “Hob!”

  Odin spun, knife in hand, and Ruth raised her pistol and ran toward the window. She kicked dead Simon in the shoulder to topple him out of her way, then found a portion of the window that was not smeared with the man’s blood. She peeked outside. “No one coming yet. Spider, that was a tad reckless, I think.”

  “I am done with sneaking around,” Spider said. “We’re pirates, goddamn it.”

  “Former pirates,” Odin said. “Ha!”

  “If anyone comes, just remember to say lamb, or wolf, or whatever it is. But if we must kill them, we kill them.” Spider hoisted the key. “Hob!”

  Ruth and Odin joined his cry.

  Near the stairs, they heard a banging.

  Someone was pounding on the other side of one of the doors.

  “Hob? Hob!”

  Spider rushed in that direction, the others behind him. A black shadow flew over Spider’s head, and he dove.

  Ben veered through the corridor.

  “Fuck and bugger all goddamned birds and consign them to the lowest fucking hell!”

  The others watched him rise from the floor.

  “It was just a bird,” Ruth said.

  “They scare him,” Odin said. “I don’t know why.”

  Spider ignored all that and rushed toward the pounding noise. “Hob! Speak to me, son!”

  Upon arriving, Spider nearly dropped the key in his haste. He had to try several times before the lock opened, while the hammering on the other side continued. When he finally got it unlocked, he did not find Hob.

  He found Daphne, weeping.

  “Guns and shouts, and me locked away! I saw none of it!”

  The girl pushed past Spider and yelped with glee when she saw the corpses in the corridor.

  “Peter! Simon! No more wet sheets for Daphne! And all the blood!”

  She ran toward the bodies.

  “Good lord,” Ruth said.

&nb
sp; “Aye,” Spider replied, shuddering.

  “We should bring her along,” Odin said. “We might need the help. Can she shoot?”

  “I’m not giving her a gun,” Spider said. “Hell, I don’t have a gun. And we waste time. Hob! Hob!”

  They all raised the cry again, Daphne joining them but not quite seeming to understand why. They kept it up, all the while watching for signs ofJim’s men rushing toward them.

  Spider raised his hands. “Silence! Silence! I hear something!”

  Odin and Ruth quieted themselves, but Daphne continued shouting Hob’s name. Ruth clamped a hand over the girl’s mouth. “Shhhh!”

  Once it was quiet, they all heard it.

  “Spider? Spider?”

  “Hob!”

  “Spider John!”

  Spider ran toward the sound of Hob’s voice. He leapt over Gold Peter and nearly tripped over Simon as he rounded the corner and headed to the right.

  “Hob! Hob, lad!”

  “Spider!”

  As he got closer, Spider realized the voice calling him was quite weak. “Can you pound on a wall, Hob? On your door? Where are you?

  Odin and the others followed him. “Daphne says there is a blond man in the last room to the right,” Ruth called. “She says she’s in love with him.”

  Spider rushed to that door and prayed the key would fit the lock.

  It did.

  He entered the room and saw Hob on a cot. The boy was frail, his head bandaged. A portion of the bandage was stained red, and all of it was damp with sweat.

  But his eyes were open, and he was smiling.

  “Spider John, I’ll be damned.” The voice was weak, and Hob fell back after an attempt to rise.

  Spider knelt by the cot. “Hob, goddamn you, this is what you get for chasing Anne Bonny’s tail across the Spanish Main, you fool!”

  Hob smiled weakly. “You saw her tail, did you not?” He tried again to rise but failed.

  Spider wiped away a tear. “There are plenty of women out there who won’t get you killed.”

  Hob closed his eyes. “Name one.”

  34

  The ships bell behind the house clanged wildly, as though a gale blew through a bell tower.

  Spider was carrying Hob over his shoulder, as Odin had carried him earlier. “Take a look, Odin.”

  Odin peeked out a window. “Missus Fitch, banging hard on the bell. No one else with her, just Missus Fitch.”

  Spider swore under his breath. “She heard all our goddamned noise.”

  “Everyone will come running,” Ruth said.

  Daphne clapped her hands and pointed at Odin’s weapon. “Can I have that?”

  Odin pulled the sickle away from her. “Fuck, I do not think so!”

  “Come!” Spider headed toward the stairs, Hob on his shoulder.

  “I can walk, Spider.”

  “No you can’t, boy.”

  “I’m a man,” Hob said.

  “I know.”

  Odin kept pace with Spider, but he still limped. “I wish we had not shot all the guns.”

  “Ruth has one, and we’ve got knives. By the way, Hob, yours is in my belt.”

  “Really?” Spider felt the weapon being pulled free. “How did you possibly get this?”

  “I’ll tell you one day. Right now, it is tough to talk and carry you. You’ve grown even more.” Even as he said it, he worried. The lad felt lighter than he should.

  “My shipmates,” Hob said. “These bastards took us! Where are they?”

  “Dead or locked up, Hob,” Spider said.

  “We have to free them!”

  Ruth tapped Spider’s arm. “Give me the key,” she said.

  “We have no time, Ruth.”

  She blew away a strand of hair. “There are other people locked behind other doors, and I don’t like the notion of them starving to death after we’ve killed all their caretakers or chased them away.”

  “Give her the key, Spider,” Hob said.

  “Speed is our ally and that will slow us down,” Spider said, but he stopped. He peeked at his wounded leg, and was relieved to notice it was not bleeding too badly.

  “You are carrying a big tall lad and the old half-blind man limps,” Ruth said. “I will catch up to you quite easily, Spider John.”

  “I think I dropped the key in Hob’s room. Go! We are headed for the barn.”

  “I will meet you there.” Ruth ran off and vanished around the corner before the others reached the stairs. Spider took a moment to prepare himself for the descent.

  “Want me to help you carry him?”

  “No, Odin. I want you ready to fight if you need to. And don’t bother saying wolf.”

  “Or lamb,” Odin said.

  “Or lamb. Daphne, would you like to help us?”

  “Yes! Give me a knife!”

  “No. Nothing sharp for you. I do not think they will shoot you, so run ahead, and watch for anyone coming. If you see anyone, give us a shout. We’ll go out through the kitchen. Go!”

  Daphne kissed Hob on the head, then ran ahead, giggling.

  “She says she loves you,” Ruth said, breathing hard.

  “That was quick,” Spider said.

  “Aye. I opened doors and told people to run like the devil chased them.” Indeed, voices filled the corridor behind them. Spider glanced back and saw dazed people, a couple of them with tough skin weathered by sun, wind and salt, entering the hall.

  Hob tried to lift his head. “The girl loves me? Is she pretty? My eyes are all blurry.”

  “Aye, she’s pretty,” Spider said. “Ruth is pretty, too.”

  “And you wasted time locked up,” Odin said. “Ha!”

  “I tried to escape. Gold Peter clubbed me with something. I think.” Spider took two deep breaths. “Let us go.”

  The damned bell continued to clang.

  Odin led the way, and Ruth took up the rear. Between them, Spider headed down the steps, slowly, leaning against the handrail. The steps groaned beneath him. “This house needs so much work.” Odin scoffed. “I do not think you have the time, Spider.”

  “Aye.”

  The steps were agony, and Spider’s back felt the strain of Hob’s weight. But they made it all the way down and turned down the corridor toward the kitchen.

  “We’ll go out the kitchen door,” Spider said. “Straight to the barn and into the wagon.”

  “The bell is out back, and that’s where they’ll gather,” Ruth cautioned.

  “They are scattered, with luck, so maybe we have a chance.” Spider shifted Hob on his shoulder a bit. “We might get to the wagon in time, or we might have to slit some throats. But we will all ride out together. Missus Fitch, too.”

  “A plan!” Odin said. “And a ride, too!” He veered toward the sitting room.

  “Odin, goddamn it! What are you doing?”

  “I want that big gun on the wall!”

  Good Lord. “Do you know where the fucking balls and powder are?”

  “No.”

  “Then you waste time!” Spider headed toward the kitchen. “Come now or stay to die!”

  Odin complied, but grumbled. “I wish we had that blunderbuss. And those exploding things, too, that they toss about.”

  “Are you limping, Odin?”

  “My leg is fine, Hob.”

  “You limp.”

  “I know. My leg is fine.”

  The clanging suddenly stopped.

  Spider swore. “Does that mean they are here?”

  “Maybe,” Ruth said, brandishing her gun.

  They dashed through the corridor and into the kitchen. Daphne was holding the door open, and Mrs. Fitch stood beside her.

  “Daphne says you saved some poor wretch and we’re all to flee?”

  “Aye,” Spider said. “And you can come with us. Hurry!”

  “Dear,” she said, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry. I heard guns and I rang the bell and now all those horrible men are rushing . . .”

 
“We know! Go!” Spider sprang toward the door.

  Hob snatched at a bottle on the large table. “Missed it!”

  “Don’t drink from any bottles here,” Spider warned. “They are poisoned!”

  Mrs. Fitch gasped. “Poisoned?”

  “Aye,” Spider said. “I’ll explain later. Hurry!”

  Mrs. Fitch swallowed hard and seemed to be searching for words. Spider, Hob still on his shoulder, squeezed through the door and past Daphne and Mrs. Fitch. None of Fawkes’ pirates were within sight, but he could hear shouts of confusion and they did not sound very far off. He headed toward the barn and thanked the Lord it was already open.

  Chickens scattered, squawking madly. “Goddamned claws and beaks! Jesus!” Spider spun, using Hob as a shield, as the birds flapped all around him.

  “Put me down, Spider!”

  “Silence, Hob!”

  “Poison?” Mrs. Fitch followed him, with Odin leading her by the arm. Ruth aimed her gun left, then right, then left again, ready to fire at anyone who rushed them.

  “Later, Missus Fitch.”

  “You keep saying poison.”

  Spider sighed. “I drank a bit of that rum you have locked away, Missus Fitch, and then I got horrible sick. Rum doesn’t do that to me.”

  “Poison? Who would do that?”

  The shouts grew closer, and Spider expected hot lead to fly any moment. “Goddamn it, woman, I will explain later!”

  Daphne smiled and trudged along beside him toward the barn. Spider glanced at her. “You will come away with us, will you?”

  She nodded. “I want to stay with Hob. I love him.”

  “Good,” Spider muttered. I still wonder about you, little girl. “To the barn, quickly!”

  They reached the door and found the giant Michael inside. Odin rushed toward him, sickle raised.

  Mrs. Fitch shouted, “No! He isn’t going to fight us! Are you Michael?”

  The man halted, shook his head and raised his arms.

  “Help us hitch up the horses, Michael,” Mrs. Fitch said. “We are going to town. You can come, too.”

  Michael nodded and got to work.

  35

  Ruth stood guard by the barn door. “I see two men coming, I think. They are running hard. I hear shouts, too, so others are coming on their heels.”