I shrugged. “Most things are loaded, but aye, we are short-handed in all things these days.”
“You should have bought more servants,” Sarah chided.
I sighed and did not reply.
Julio stood and ambled over. I knew something was amiss by the sad look in his dark eyes. “Davey and I are staying.”
“Well damn, we will miss you,” I said and embraced him. “Do you have all you need?”
He nodded. “Striker sold us this place. We’ll be fine. Better here than France or England.”
I hoped he was correct. “Well, then, do you want a horse? I only ask that you treat him well.”
Julio grinned and patted Pomme’s nose with genuine fondness. “I will care for this horse to the end of his natural days, Will. I can use him.” He tapped the brace on his ruined leg.
“More than I did,” I said softly. “I am pleased you will have a home of your own, and this fine horse.”
“It has been an honor,” Julio said.
Gaston came to embrace him and say his goodbyes, and I was left with Davey looking at me from the steps. He appeared sheepish.
All the times I had threatened to kill him faded away now that I knew I would probably never see him again.
“I will miss you,” I said.
He smiled weakly. “Thank you, for all you’ve done for me. Without you I would’ve been dead years ago on that damn ship.”
I nodded. “You are welcome.”
“I’m glad we never fucked,” he said quietly and looked away with embarrassment.
I was surprised until I recalled that conversation on my voyage here. I chuckled. “Aye, it was for the best.”
He grinned. “Good luck.” And then he went to Gaston and said goodbye as well.
I turned away, with Gaston’s talk of boiling distillations in my head. I would miss this New World. By the Gods I wished to return here someday.
Soon their donkey cart was loaded and everyone was preparing to go. Sarah regarded the house with tears in her eyes before turning away and walking resolutely down the road to the cove and the Magdalene.
Gaston and I decided to accompany them to the ship in order to determine if Agnes and the others thought anything had been missed that we should fetch or purchase at the last minute.
Our arrival at the cove was greeted by happily barking dogs and the Bard’s cursing—all coming from the quarterdeck. We laughed and waved at them.
Agnes emerged from the cabin to yell at us on shore. “Did you come from the road?”
“Nay,” I hollered back.
“They should be here by now. There wasn’t anything left,” Agnes called. “We brought the cart.”
“We will fetch them,” I assured her.
As heavily laden as we were with all our weapons and bags, and now without a mount, I did not relish running into town.
I considered leaving our muskets, but there was a great deal of confusion around the longboat that was being loaded with Sarah’s things.
“Do you think we will find our bags and muskets again if we ask someone to stow them?” I asked Gaston.
He appeared alarmed at the suggestion as his gaze swept over the chaos of the deck and longboat. “Let us keep them. We do not even know where we will be allowed to sleep.”
“Oui,” I sighed and re-slung my musket to trudge to town.
Cudro, Ash, and Pete joined us.
“I want to see the town one last time,” Cudro said. “And they might be delayed because they discovered more things to bring than they could carry.”
I looked questioningly at Pete.
“Bored,” he said.
“Where the hell are you going?” Striker bellowed from the longboat.
“I’llBeBack!” Pete yelled and scurried off ahead of us with a toddler’s mischievous grin.
Then I saw Chris tailing along behind.
“Go back,” I said.
“I will not stay on a ship with those two without you two,” she snapped and pushed past us on the trail.
I did not blame her.
“So how did Doucette die?” Cudro asked as we walked. “Pete didn’t get a chance to tell us before you arrived.”
I told them—including the part about Yvette’s pregnancy.
“Wait,” Cudro rumbled. “She is with child?”
“Aye, mine, and before you ask, I never touched her, nor did I wish for her to become pregnant.”
Ash laughed. “Then how the devil did it happen?”
Gaston began to explain about syringes as we left the trail from the cove and joined the road into town. He was interrupted by Striker and Dickey bursting from the trail in our wake. Striker proceeded to chase his laughing matelot down the road as Dickey jogged up to join us.
“Forgot something in town,” Dickey gasped.
“Salve,” I teased.
We laughed when Dickey flushed.
Our amusement was disrupted by the thunder of galloping hooves. Striker and Pete were almost run down by a youth on a horse. The boy pulled up and asked in French, “Are you coming to town to catch the murderer?”
“What?” Striker asked us with amusement.
“The new physician killed Doucette. They’re trying to arrest him,” the boy said with glee. “The militia is waiting at his house and they sent a ship to blockade his vessel.”
Slack-jawed as I was, I still pushed Gaston into the bushes.
“Oui,” Cudro called to the boy. “Where are you going?”
“To tell my father and get more men.”
“Go to it then, boy,” Cudro cheered.
The boy kicked his mare and off he went.
We stood there staring at one another for but a moment before we dove into the underbrush and squatted about in a circle checking and loading pistols and muskets while telling Striker and Pete what the boy had said.
“Well, this hurries things up a bit,” Cudro remarked wryly.
I laughed: it was either that or cry. My matelot had the steady expression of great resignation he sometimes donned when even his Horse was beyond surprise.
“What the Bloody Hell?” Striker asked. “How did Doucette die?”
“We were just discussing that,” Cudro said.
“I pushed him down the stairs,” I said. “We claimed it was an accident and Father Pierre did not question that. There was no talk of murder when we left the house.”
“We laid Doucette’s body in the store room. Theodore was going to speak to Father Pierre about the burial,” Gaston said.
“Damn,” I said. “Theodore mentioned the tale they had told, but not who they had told it to.”
“So, saying no one in the house told anyone, why would someone else claim Gaston killed him?” Striker asked.
And then I knew. “Someone who wished to prevent us from leaving. Someone who wished to prevent Gaston from leaving.”
“FatherMark?” Pete growled.
“Possibly,” I said, thinking that the likely case, but it was not the only possibility. “It could have been anyone who knew of the information Father Pierre received about Gaston.”
“The boy said they had the house and they would blockade our ship,” Dickey said.
“We have four people in the house,” I said. “Yvette, Hannah, Liam and Theodore.”
“We must learn if they are still in the house, “Cudro said.
“Aye, we need to know what has actually occurred,” I said.
“Aye, whether the boy was confused about the particulars,” Striker added. “And what the important particulars are. The island militia is every man who can carry a piece, but the garrison in the harbor fort is French soldiers paid by the crown.”
“Aye, we will be lucky if we face the militia, alone; as the ships have not returned from roving, most should be old buccaneers turned planter or merchant,” Cudro said.
“Aye, but sadly,” I countered, “old buccaneers are much wilier than the King’s soldiers.”
“Aye, and we will h
ave them as well if they are officially making an arrest,” Gaston added.
Cudro was frowning and shaking his head. “I cannot believe a town full of buccaneers could all be induced to believe Gaston did this. The only thing you can get a hundred buccaneers to agree on is articles and loot.”
Gaston sighed. “I would hope the men I have treated would not be party to this.”
“I would hope a bunch of buccaneers would not be party to hanging a man for fighting with another,” Striker said.
“They were very angry when Doucette was harmed before,” Dickey noted.
“Aye, but Gaston is the physician now, not Doucette; and I have heard nothing but his praise whenever we’re in town,” Cudro countered.
I agreed, but I waved it all aside. “We cannot know squatting here in the bushes.”
“Aye,” Pete snapped. “GoInFromWest, StayInAlleys, SeeWhatWeCan.”
We slipped along the road like a pack of stealthy wolves, trying to stay hidden while maintaining a good pace. We twice had to dive into the brush to avoid a wagon or riders.
We saw no one as we entered the outskirts of town: the yards were empty of even slaves. We finally saw a wall of backs at the mouth of an alley near the church. They were facing the main street: the one that ran in front of our house and the church. Then we found we could get no closer to our house than the far side of the church because there were crudely-uniformed soldiers standing in the end of the alley we could see. We could hear the ominous rumble of a large crowd of men all talking together, with the occasional loud voice calling above it like a gull.
We ducked back into another alley where we would be well out of sight.
“I am guessing that everyone in town is standing in front of our house or as close to it as they can get,” I said.
“Aye, and they called in the garrison,” Cudro rumbled with disappointment. “We need to know the mood of the crowd.”
“Someone should try and get closer and find out what’s being said,” Striker said.
“Well, we will be recognized,” I said, “as would either of you,” I pointed at Striker and Pete, and then regarded the rest. “Nay, all here would be known. The town is small, we are notable.”
“I could go,” Chris said. “No one knows me.”
Pete swiped at her and knocked her huge tricorn hat off her head. No golden curls spilled out. Her hair was crudely shorn as short as a boy’s should be in the tropics.
Striker shrugged. “She looks the part enough. No one would know or recognize her. And she speaks French, right?”
I shook my head. “Nay.”
“I do, too,” Chris squawked.
“My nay was not about your linguistic prowess,” I said. “I do not think it worth the risk. She is too short to see anything over the shoulders of others, and I do not wish to be sitting about in this alley waiting for her to return—especially since she does not know the town and might become lost. And the only thing she will be able to garner if she cannot see or force her way far enough into the crowd to reach the center is what the people at the edge think is going on. That information is useless. I say we try and sneak into the house.”
Pete shook his head. “YaBeRight AboutTheCrowd, ButYaBeRight AboutSeein’, An’Askin’Someone WhoKnows Somthin’. ISayWeGet IntaTheChurch. WeCanSeeAllFrom TheBelltower, AnThePriests ShouldKnow.”
Everyone nodded at that plan and we scurried off. We were easily able to slip into the rectory yard without the soldiers seeing us.
“How many live here?” Cudro asked as we crouched outside the rear entry.
“Six priests, and the soup-pissing Muri,” I said.
We had not seen her in the yard. I hoped she would be out on the street like a good gossip monger. If we saw her, I was sure I would kill her. I was angry and filled with bloodlust. This was not the taking of a Spanish town, where I knew no one and did not care overly much if they lived or died as long as they stayed out of my way. Nay, the people we faced today were threatening me and my loved ones personally, and thus I wanted them dead.
I realized I had summoned my Wolf when we heard the boy’s news. I looked to Gaston and found his Horse tightly reined in his eyes.
“NoPieces,” Pete said and slipped inside with a knife in his hand.
I put the pistol I had been gripping back in my belt and drew a dirk. The others did likewise, except for Chris.
“It will alert the soldiers,” I hissed and pried her pistol from her fingers. I handed her one of her own knives.
“I cannot use this,” she whispered.
“Then do not; but if you fire a pistol you will ruin everything.” I let my glare show her that the town descending upon her would be the least of her problems should that occur.
She looked away. Her mounting panic was evident. Despite the circumstances, I found myself wondering if women had Horses. Had I not seen hers the moment she shot me?
I gave her a hard poke. “Find your damn balls. You wished to be here.”
Anger flashed and replaced the fear. I still saw a defiant child and not a cunning warrior in her eyes, though. I tried to recall other babes I had seen in battles—all boys, of course. I had been the least accustomed of my comrades to the matter of war since I came to the West Indies; but before I left Christendom I had led a number of young fools on their first adventures. And aye, now that I let myself remember, they had all appeared as scared as she was.
“Act as lookout and do what we tell you to do,” I said with more compassion. “You need not kill anyone; but do not impede anyone else. You will be hanged with us if all goes awry.”
She swallowed hard and nodded tightly.
I led her inside and pointed for her to crouch behind Dickey. She did. Then I hurried forward until I was with Pete and Gaston at the next doorway.
“SheBeDeadWeight,” Pete hissed.
“Oh, shut up,” I grumbled and shouldered past him.
We saw no one as we slipped through the quarters. All was silent, and it was not until we neared the rear of the chapel itself that we heard a sound from inside the building. There was furtive whispering, and then an eye appeared in the crack of the door leading to the bell tower. This was followed by a squawk as that eye beheld Pete.
He tore into the room with Gaston and me fast on his heels and dove after a flailing, cassocked form to the right. I tackled another trying to exit the door into the chapel at our left. Gaston went past me and through that door to crouch and survey the church proper. Young Father Tim gave me no trouble, and collapsed to the floor with a bleat of surrender as soon as he found I had a good grip on his robe. There was much cursing from Pete and Cudro behind me, though; and an ominous muted clang from above. I turned to find Pete on his knees partially atop young Father David. Both their hands were tightly wrapped about the bell rope: it stretched tautly to the top of the tower where I could see the bell heeled well over awaiting the release of the rope to begin to ring in earnest.
Cudro pried Father David off the rope whilst Pete held it still and Ash climbed the tower ladder. We—including the priests—waited breathlessly until Ash could cautiously get a grip on the bell’s ringer and slowly let the bell return to its normal inert position as Pete carefully played out the rope. I breathed a sigh of relief when Ash then cut that rope.
“So you were told to await us and sound an alarm?” I asked our captives as three stories of rope slithered heavily to the ground behind me.
Father David nodded and eyed the pile of rope with a resigned sigh.
“Where is Father Pierre?” I asked. “Did he give that order?”
He shook his head. “Non, Father Mark and Lieutenant Savoy.”
“Where are they?” I asked.
“In Doucette’s house.”
“Where is Father Pierre?” I asked.
“Here,” Father Pierre said from the doorway with Gaston behind him.
“What has happened?” I asked him.
He sighed. “Father Mark saw your people go up the roa
d with a cart and the children. He realized you were escaping. He went to the lieutenant at the garrison and told him that Gaston was wanted by the Church.”
We sighed and murmured curses.
“So they are holding our people hostage?” I asked.
“Oui,” Father Pierre said, “and they talked of preventing your ship from sailing.”
“We encountered a boy on the road who said that Gaston was being charged with Doucette’s death?”
He frowned and shook his head. “I would say that is a fantasy of the crowd. I have heard nothing of that. I would think that a thing they would concoct after they saw that none of you were present at his burial,” he chided.
I regarded him with incredulity. “Be quiet. You know damn well we have no time. So the men of the garrison are involved. Are they sending men to attack our ship, or other ships?”
“Ship,” he said. “I believe the goal was only to prevent you from leaving. Father Mark and the Lieutenant wanted you all captured, but the town is quite divided over the matter. Lord… Monsieur Sable is well liked and…” He smiled, “Father Mark’s righteous piety has not made him many friends amongst the buccaneers.”
“Thank God for that,” Cudro rumbled.
I turned and found that Pete had joined Ash at the top of the tower. They were using the tower’s architecture to hide as much as possible while peering out at the crowd below.
Chris and Dickey had been translating for Striker. He nodded his understanding of the Father’s tale when he met my gaze.
“So we do not have to take on the entire town,” I said. “That is good, perhaps that can be to our advantage. I do not wish to envision a scene where we stand amongst them and argue for our lives, though.”
“But you’re very good at that,” Striker teased.
Pete and Ash were hurrying down the ladder.
“They’re all arguing in the street in front of the house’s main doors,” Ash said. “The leader of the garrison seems embroiled in that. The angles are wrong for us to see anything around the house, though.”
“ThereWereJustFour MenInTheAlley,” Pete said after Striker and Dickey gave him a quick translation of Father Pierre’s story.
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