by Isaac Asimov
The rum was served with a bottle and a plate of tropical fruit. Captain Morgan raised a tankard to Steve and Jane. They clanked theirs against his.
“To good sailing,” said Captain Morgan, before taking a long drink.
“To good sailing,” Steve repeated.
Jane muttered the same quietly, smiling shyly.
“I say,” said Captain Morgan, studying Steve again in the light. “You have a trace of Moor in you, do you?”
Steve laughed and decided to explain his ancestry to Captain Morgan the best he could. “I live in Spanish California, but my family originated in, uh, Cathay. You’ve heard of it?”
“Ah! Yes, I’ve heard tales of distant Cathay, on the far side of the world. Never been there. May hap I’ll go someday.” He took a drink of his rum. “What’s it like?”
“Uh — I don’t know.”
“Eh?”
“I was born in, uh, the New World.”
“Ah! I see, of course. But I still don’t understand how your English is so good if you grew up in New Spain.”
Jane suppressed a smile, and hid behind her tankard.
“Well...” Steve tried to think of an answer. “Captain, I suppose we have more English speakers in California than you realize.”
“Hm! Well, it could be. I wouldn’t know.” Morgan gestured to the plate of fruit and waited until Jane had taken a banana and Steve had picked up a bunch of grapes. “What I do know is that Spain has plenty of rich pickings in this sea, and all the way down the Atlantic Coast.”
“The Spanish Main,” said Steve, repeating a phrase he remembered.
“Aye, so it is. And someday I’ll cross all of it.” Captain Morgan peeled a banana for himself. “It’s full of sweet little towns just waiting for a man of vision to take, just one of these days.” He took a bite of the banana.
“Really?” Steve spoke casually, aware that Captain Morgan was in a mood to talk shop with them. He also realized that he was very hungry, and saw that Jane was reaching for an apple.
“Spain has the richest cities in the Americas,” said Captain Morgan. “And the strongest.”
“The strongest?” Steve took another banana.
“Aye! Oh, any city can be taken, all right. But it takes thought and planning and men of stout heart.” Captain Morgan glanced at both of them and sat up. “By the stars, I forgot my manners! You two have had no supper, I wager.”
“Well … you’d win your wager.” Steve grinned. “But we welcome your hospitality as it is.”
“Nonsense!” Captain Morgan waved to the tavernkeeper. “Two beefsteaks for my friends here! Potatoes, too!” He smiled and spread his arms. “No guests of mine go hungry.”
“We are in your debt,” said Steve.
17
WHEN THE GRILLED steaks and boiled potatoes arrived on wooden platters, Steve and Jane ate eagerly. Steve found his steak rather tough, but he was too hungry to care much. Jane did not complain, either. The tavernkeeper brought sea salt, black pepper, and some sort of red peppers to spice up the meal. Around them, the tavern remained nearly empty.
“May hap you heard about my voyage to Cuba last year,” said Captain Morgan, before taking another swig of rum.
“Hm?” Steve made a noncommittal noise, glad that his mouth was full. He didn’t want to insult the Captain by saying he had not heard of it, but he also didn’t want to be caught pretending to have heard of something he hadn’t.
“The attack on Puerto Principe,” said Captain Morgan, relaxing in his chair. “It’s in Cuba, to the north of us here in Jamaica.”
Steve nodded, glancing at Jane. She shrugged slightly, indicating that she knew nothing about the subject either. Captain Morgan did not seem concerned.
“You see, mates, we knew that the Spanish had it mind to take Jamaica back from us — after all, we took it from them not so many years back. But I convinced Governor Modyford not to sit and wait like ducks in a pond. The way to disrupt your enemy’s plans is to take the war to him.”
Steve nodded acknowledgment.
“The governor commissioned me a colonel for the voyage,” Captain Morgan continued with casual pride. “It required twelve ships — first to take enough men to capture the place, then to bring all the booty home!” He laughed and drank more of his rum.
” A great voyage,” said Steve, between mouthfuls. That was a safe comment to make.
“Our good King Charles appreciated the share of booty that the governor and I sent him, as well.” Captain Morgan paused to pour more rum into all the tankards, He seemed surprised to find that the other two were still nearly full, but he said nothing about it.
Steve took a taste of his rum to be polite. He didn’t like it, but he decided not to complain. Jane was hardly touching hers either.
“I’ve been lying low this past year,” said Captain Morgan. “My raids on Spanish possessions could upset the king if they complicate his politics back home.”
“That makes sense,” said Steve.
“Ha!” Captain Morgan slapped one hand down on the table, jolting it. “What does he know of the Spanish Main?”
“Not much, I suppose,” said Steve mildly.
“Of course not. How would he? But my surprise raids against Spanish towns are preventing the Spanish in America from coordinating an attack on us British. They’d like nothing better than to drive us out of the Caribbean completely!”
Steve knew, of course, that the Spanish never succeeded in doing that; even his history was good enough on that point. He knew that Hunter would not approve of his telling Morgan anything like that, though.
Captain Morgan leaned toward Steve, looking him in the eye. “You’ve no love for the Spanish, I take it?”
“Uh — no, not especially. Not me.” Steve was caught off guard by the buccaneer’s sudden intensity.
“And the two of you missed my voyage to Cuba last year, I take it?”
“Yeah, we missed it,” said Steve.
“And yet the two of you are experienced buccaneers who can claim a share of this day’s bounty when your ships come back into port?”
“Well — yes,” said Steve.
“Well, then! I have need of your kind. I have many ships to fill and not enough men to fill them. You’ll join me, then, when I put out the call.”
Steve glanced at Jane, who was still leaving all the talking to him.
“Eh, mates?” Captain Morgan looked back and forth between them, grinning.
“Of course,” Steve said quickly. He had to keep their masquerade going. “When will it be? You told the others you are gathering crews right away.”
“Aye, that’s why I came into town this evening.”
“Where do we sail this time?”
“Ah, mate, that’s not to be discussed just yet.” Captain Morgan grinned and slapped him on the back. “Not just with you, mind, but I’m not telling anyone. Not until we are well away at sea, where there is no chance that a word will slip. I would not have anyone on this island tempted by money to sell our destination in some Spanish port.”
Before long, Steve and Jane had both finished eating. Captain Morgan drank the rest of the rum and tossed a few coins to the tavernkeeper. Then he sighed and looked out the open doorway at the moonlit sky.
“Well, my friends,” said Captain Morgan. “I rose early today and I shall rise early tomorrow. I must be off to my rooms here in town. I have nine ships preparing to sail even now. You will come when the call goes out for men to sail on them?”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” said Steve.
“Good!” Captain Morgan stood up. “I bid you both good evening then.” He strode out, his boots pounding on the wooden floor of the tavern.
After he was gone, Jane leaned close to Steve. “That was interesting,” she whispered. “And we got a free dinner.”
“Not to mention avoiding that sword fight,” said Steve. “I figured I had to accept his invitation to join his crew. When the time comes, he’ll be too busy to notic
e us in the crowd. I just didn’t want to risk making him mad.”
“Good idea. Can we find the same inn where we stayed the first night?”
“Yeah. Let’s go. We want to be back on the docks in the morning when Hunter comes in with the ships.”
Hunter spent the night sitting on the deck of the Sidonia. As dawn came up over the edge of the water, the other buccaneers began to rise from their sleep around the ship. No one bothered him all morning. Near midday, he saw Port Royal ahead of them. The Old Laughing Lady had reached port first. The other ships, the Cadiz and the Hungry Hawk, were coming in just behind the Sidonia.
Though puzzled and uncertain, Hunter had not decided to shut himself down completely. He still was under a First Law imperative to protect his human companions if he could and to return them to their own time even if he was not capable of apprehending MC 2. When the Sidonia anchored in the bay, he joined the line of buccaneers who were receiving a share of the loot from the ship. Each one took his share before being lowered in a longboat to be rowed to shore.
Hunter’s share was two handfuls of evenly mixed gold and silver coin. When he stared at the coins in some surprise, a good-natured buccaneer handed him a scarf to bundle them up. Without a word, Hunter tied his bundle firmly to his sword belt and climbed into the next longboat.
As the other buccaneers ran cheering and whooping for the taverns with their booty, Hunter walked along the docks, unsure of himself. He was nearly in robotic shock and very tentative about making any decision. Without Jane’s earlier reminders that his human team still needed him, he might have shut down completely. As it was, he was having trouble focusing on his goals and choosing decisive action.
“Lack of focus is only one step away from complete incompetence,” Hunter said to himself. Putting his concerns into words helped him narrow his attention. “I must concentrate in order to remain functional. Prioritize my goals. What is most urgent? First, reconstruct the team. That requires locating and communicating with Steve, Jane, and Rita.” He activated his internal communicator. “R. Hunter calling Steve, Jane, and Rita. I am on the waterfront again and will await you here.”
Hunter was concerned about facing Steve and Jane again. He expected that whatever he had done on board ship to cause Jane to hit him was no longer relevant. Still, he would not enjoy learning that he had done something extremely serious or, worst of all, violated one of the Laws without realizing it.
He began repeating the message at sixty-second intervals, and looked back at the ships now anchored in the bay. None were out of the range of his communicator. Since radio would not be developed for another couple of centuries, he did not have to worry about jamming, codes, regulations, or identification problems. Yet~heard no response.
Hunter remained standing where he was, on the waterfront in the morning sunlight. More buccaneers ran past him, shouting and singing. He discontinued his message, suddenly concerned that the buccaneers near Steve and Jane might overhear the sound, chastising himself for forgetting that possibility.
That was another sign that his efficiency was dropping. In addition, he was growing more anxious as minutes passed without a response. He should never have left Steve and Jane.
“Hey, mate! Come on!” A heavy hand pounded Hunter on the back, startling him.
Hunter turned in surprise to look. The buccaneer was almost as big as he was. “Yes? Where are you going?”
“To the taverns, mate!” He had not actually stopped, but turned to face Hunter as he backpedaled. “Come on, fellow! I’m Ned. I know you’re one of us — I saw you on board both those Spanish pigeons. So what’s your name, eh?”
“Hunter.”
“Come on, then.”
Hunter recalled Jane’s admonition to maintain his masquerade as a buccaneer. That, too, gave him some direction. He followed Ned and the other buccaneers, who were scattering to the different taverns, cheering and whooping.
In the tavern, Hunter carefully imitated some of the other buccaneers. He smiled the way they smiled, bought the same bottle and tankard of rum, and sat with Ned and his cronies at a big, round table. This behavior required very little of his attention, however, and the rowdiness of his new companions did not alter his mood in the slightest.
Hunter observed that the buccaneers’ behavior gradually changed as they consumed greater amounts of rum. He accessed his data on that substance and studied the effects of drunkenness on humans. In some ways he found drunkenness to be a very close parallel to his own failing efficiency. On the other hand, while the pirates became more drunk with each round, his condition did not change.
The tavern was full of loud, raucous buccaneers; at some tables, they were singing. Then two familiar faces caught Hunter’s attention. Roland was entering the tavern with MC 2. Instantly, Hunter focused his attention on both of them. Many of his doubts about his ability were forgotten as he considered the new situation.
Deliberately, Hunter reviewed his data. Roland and MC 2 must have returned to Port Royal on the Hungry Hawk. Rita, however, should be with them.
Hunter remained where he was, observing Roland with MC 2. They stood at the bar; Roland led the way through the crowd and MC 2 stayed close to him. Hunter altered his aural sensitivity to prioritize Roland’s voice pattern.
“Two tankards of rum,” Roland called to the tavernkeeper. “Pay the man out of your share, Shorty.”
MC 2 paid for the rum.
“Hey, Roland,” said a bearded buccaneer at the bar. “Why don’t you pay for your own drink?”
“What do you care?” Roland grinned broadly. Then he punched the other man in the stomach suddenly, without any warning.
The other man doubled up.
Hunter felt a contradiction churning inside his system, as the First Law told him to prevent any further violence and his own judgment told him to let the locals of this time conduct their affairs without his interference.
The man who had been punched lunged for Roland’s throat. ‘Roland stepped back in the same moment and MC 2 slipped in front of him. As the bearded buccaneer came forward, MC 2 picked him up under his arms and lifted him into the air.
“Hey! Hey, you! This ain’t your fight!” The bearded man kicked and swung his fists helplessly in the air.
The crowd roared with laughter.
“He’s a funny fellow,” said Roland, laughing. “He doesn’t say much, but he hates having anyone try to hurt me.”
“Put me down!”
“Not yet,” Roland ordered.
“Does he do everything you tell him?” The first man squirmed but could not get free.
“Nay,” said Roland. “I told him to hit a Spaniard for me and he wouldn’t do it. But he’ll do most anything I say. Put him down, Shorty.”
MC 2 gently set the buccaneer back on his feet. The bearded man turned and shoved his way through the crowd. MC 2 stood quietly.
Hunter decided to make his presence known to MC 2. He could not allow Roland to control MC 2, even if Roland did not know why MC 2 would obey his instructions. Hunter transmitted an internal message to him.
“I am R. Hunter, a humaniform robot from your time,” said Hunter. “Acknowledge.”
MC 2 did not respond.
“I have followed you from Mojave Center, under a Second Law instruction to bring you back to our time. I am in the room observing you, so your masquerade is no longer effective. The First Law requires that you cooperate with me because your very presence at human size in this time threatens to alter history and harm the humans of the future. You must acknowledge this First Law problem.”
MC 2 did not react outwardly, but he radioed back. “Your First Law imperative is not fully convincing to me. Until I am fully persuaded that your assessment of my presence is correct, I am not bound by your opinion.”
“Tell me where the woman named Rita is. The First Law clearly governs her welfare.”
“I do not know.”
“Where did you last see her?”
�
�She was present at the attack on the ship Sidonia. I know nothing of her whereabouts since that time.”
Hunter’s worry about Rita deepened.
Suddenly a roar of shouts came from the doorway. The bearded buccaneer was back, charging into the tavern at the head of a mob of other drunken buccaneers. Most of them leaped at random on their brethren drinking in the tavern, but their bearded leader ran straight for Roland, followed by a knot of bellowing comrades.
Roland just had time to fling his tankard at the bearded buccaneer, who dodged it; it banged against the head of a man behind him. Then MC 2 again blocked the way to Roland, but this time the sheer weight of the mob knocked him down. As MC 2 hit the floor, many of the men stumbled over him. They went down in a heap.
Roland, who was clearly no coward, leaped into the fray himself.
Allover the tavern, onlookers were either joining in or roaring with approval, cheering on one friend or another. Hunter, suddenly moving with more decisiveness and urgency than he had felt since Jane had clubbed him, jumped up and ran toward the fight. Hunter now had his best chance ever to grab MC 2.
18
HUNTER DID NOT speak as he took the shoulders of various buccaneers and flung them aside. Most of what he heard everyone yelling was either insult or encouragement, neither of which seemed desirable to him. He worked his way through most of the crowd, but people kept jumping on him and hitting him. None of the punches did any damage, but the necessity to avoid harming any humans delayed him. He could only push them out of the way, and they kept coming right back.
After several moments, Hunter realized that he was not making much progress. Ahead of him, MC 2 was struggling with four drunken humans in what appeared to be a stalemate. Roland, on the other hand, was taking a beating.
Hunter radioed to MC 2. “I am going to take Roland out the front door. Since he is the cause of this fight, it may solve the problem. Under the First Law, to stop all the harm the humans are doing to each other, you must help me.”
“Agreed,” MC 2 radioed back. “I will distract as many of the humans as I can simultaneously.”
