John, Jimbo, and Jilly looked at one another. They'd been together since they were ten years old, through cannon fire and siren song and rum runs. Perhaps it had been only a matter of time before they shared this sort of danger as well.
"Alright," they said in almost perfect unison, looking a little poleaxed. When they'd come into Anne's Arms an hour before, all they'd really wanted was a quiet game of cards on a table that didn't move and enough beer to floor a horse.
Instead, they were apparently going to be carted off to Heaven by a Valkyrie.
Well, Jilly thought philosophically as they followed Katherine into room four. There are ways of getting to Heaven, and then there are ways of getting to Heaven, and who am I to say no?
*~*~*
"Yer always so bonny to me, Tess," said Mr. Bright, watching her pull up her stocking with glittering eyes. The lamp beside the table was turned down, giving off only the faintest of gold glows to distinguish her alluring curves from the shadows.
"That's because you tip well, Billy," she said honestly.
"I could take you away from all o' this," he said, not for the first time. "I got enough saved up now. I don't have to go back to sea. We could find us a nice little town, settle down..."
"Now, Bill," Tessa said firmly, patting the hand that had slid over her thigh. "I've already told you that I can't. It's a lovely idea, but no."
"You really want to stay here?" he said.
"Well, not forever," she conceded, gathering up her hair and ramming pins in. "But it's good enough for now. It's a lot better than some other places I've worked—I keep more of my wages, and Violet makes sure no one's rough with me, and I've got some say in who I service."
"That's good to hear. I'm glad to hear that," said Billy Bright, flashing the smile that had won him his name. A diamond glinted amidst gold-capped teeth. "So you do like me, even if just a little."
"Course I do, silly," Tessa said fondly, leaning over to kiss him. "I always look forward to our little interludes. You're probably my favorite regular."
"But you don't love me," he said.
"No. No, I don't."
"You're the most honest wench I've ever bedded, Tessa, and that's the truth. You're one of a kind."
"I know," she said with a short laugh. "You sailing out tomorrow?"
"Aye. Just after dawn."
"Well, Zora just got in, so I don't know if I'll see you again before then. So, have a safe voyage, Bill."
"You love her, don't you?"
Tessa hesitated at the door, looking like some wild nymph out of a Renaissance painting. "Yes. So much I think my heart might burst from it."
"I'm happy for you, then, love. You be careful, until I get back."
"Of course, Billy. Good night."
*~*~*
"...But up until the rule of the Caesars, Rome was an oligarchy," a mountain of a man was insisting. His blond hair was just long enough to curl at the edges and his blue eyes were fringed with dark lashes that would have been feminine if he hadn't been well over six feet tall, hadn't had such broad shoulders, and if his hands had been significantly smaller and daintier.
Maddie had to admit, privately of course, that he was extremely handsome. In the belongs-in-uniform-astride-a-charging-horse sort of way. Not her type, not at all, but striking. And if Agnessa hadn't been so worked up by his previous comments, she probably would have noticed this, too.
"You can't honestly believe that oligarchies are the fairest and best way to govern people?" the petite helmswoman retorted, gripping her cup of ale so tightly that it was a wonder the wood hadn't cracked.
"Of course," the man said, words clipped. "The many should be governed by the best."
"And who, precisely, determines the best? By best you actually mean the most powerful, the richest," said Agnessa. "'Power tends to corrupt. Great men are almost always bad men.'"
Maddie's eyes flicked from one to another as if there was an invisible ball being lobbed back and forth, aware that she was watching a battle being fought.
"I would also say the best includes the smartest, the most practical," the man argued. "Professors and scientists, doctors and mathematicians. Great orators. Those well versed in the management of men—generals. And successful farmers, too, who know the best ways of producing the most food to support the masses."
"And where are the women? Where are the mothers and the midwives? There has never been a place for women in an oligarchy, which holds that a woman must be subservient to a man because she is seen as the inferior gender with an inferior mind. Women did not vote in the oligarchies of Rome—women were relegated to the same standing as slaves and cattle. Even war prisoners ranked higher. You speak so warmly of a fallen civilization that was no better than our current state of affairs!"
"If I had me anvil right now," Lizzie said to Marcella in a careful undertone. "I could stick a blade betwixt them, watch it go red hot, and then slap it down and hammer a new edge. Wouldn't even need me bellows."
"I've got to say, I'm impressed that he's giving back as good as he gets," Marcella said.
"Oh, that's Hugh," Violet said, suddenly plunking down another tray of drinks and startling the trio of onlookers. "Hugh Dawkins. He's quite the big man."
"Obviously," muttered Maddie, grabbing a new cup.
"Real toff when he was young," the barkeep/proprietress went on. She didn't bother to lower her voice—the two combatants were obviously deaf to those around them. "Family rich as Croesus, went to Oxford, enlisted in the Navy. One of them stories."
"Then how the hell did he end up in Bogo?" Marcella demanded, astounded. Naval men were usually stapled to the posts before they had a chance to set foot on Wenches' Way.
"Seems Mr. Dawkins is a pretty high-minded gent. His commander, one of them white-wigged arseholes, ordered an unsanctioned raid on a little fishing village near St. Lucia. When he made a bit too free with some of the ladies they found, Mr. Dawkins challenged the commander to a duel."
"Then what?" said Maddie, all agog.
"He shot the bastard's head clean off his shoulders, is what. And then he told his mates that he had no intention of sticking around to be court-martialed and hanged for doing the right thing, especially not when none of the rest of 'em had the guts to do it, so he skivved off and ended up on Ol' Thommo's boat. It's a good fit, seeing as how Thommo's one from the same mold as your Harry. Downright honorable and golden-hearted for a pirate. Just the spot for a man with morals like Hugh." Violet chuckled, sounding very like a contented hen. "He's sure found a match in Agnessa, ain't he?"
"Pax!" Hugh Dawkins said finally, lifting his hands in surrender. "Let us agree then to disagree. It's clear I cannot convince you to see the idea from my perspective, and it's equally obvious you cannot sway me to yours."
"Indeed," fumed Agnessa, draining her cup.
"But I am curious: where did you learn so much about Roman history?"
"I went through five tutors before I walked out of my father's house," she replied.
"Why did you burn through so many? Did they hold views similar to mine?" he asked shrewdly.
"Some. Others tried to teach me only subjects they considered 'safe' and 'proper'. I had no interest in those."
"No, you wanted politics and rhetoric. Philosophy and the bloody details of war."
"Something like that," she conceded. "In the end, I just stole my brother's books and made do on my own."
"I'm Hugh, by the way."
"Agnessa."
"May I get you another drink?"
"If you must," she said primly.
"I haven't had such a stimulating discussion in months. My crewmates know every word to a ribald twelve-verse shanty but couldn't call up the name of a Greek philosopher to save their lives. Please, it's the least I can do."
"Very well. I'll take a brandy. Thank you."
As Hugh made his way to the bar, he stepped aside to let the fireball that was Tessa speed past. Zora looked up from the game of darts she, Harr
y, and Jo had started with a few men and grinned. Franky was looking on, content to watch while he drank his beer.
"I'm yours for the rest of the night," Tessa vowed ardently, wrapping her arms around her.
"No, you ain't," called Violet. "You still gotta serve the tables, at least until one."
"...I'm mostly yours for the rest of the night," Tessa amended. "What can I get you?"
"You can sit right here and kiss me breathless, for starters," Zora ordered, dropping into a chair and pulling her down over her lap. Tessa obliged with a giggle, hiking up her skirt to straddle the dusky legs.
"I know what I'll be dreamin' of tonight," said one of the men at the dartboard, eyes nearly bugging out of his head. "If that ain't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen..."
"Focus, Dugan," snapped his comrade. "I got a bleedin' pound ridin' on this."
"Think I'll sit the next round out," Jo said, pulling out her silver flask and settling in a chair next to Franky's. "Maddie, why don't you come over and spell me. You're better at darts than me, anyway."
"Yessum," the girl said cheerfully, bouncing over.
"Oh, no, you're Mad Maddie, ain't ya?" said the man with a pound hanging in the balance.
"Yep."
"That's it, I quit," he said, resigned. "I've heard of you, girl. I don't got that kinda money to lose."
"Are you some kind of a fiend when it comes to darts?" Franky teased.
"Yep," Maddie said with a grin, leaning over to kiss him quickly. "Anyone else wanna leave?"
The other men all exchanged steely looks. The girl looked no more than eighteen, a slim and wiry thing with a smudged face, tangled hair, and bare feet. Which meant, in their experience, that they were all about to be fleeced down to their bootstraps.
But they were pirates. And what sort of a pirate can resist a challenge and the lure of gold?
"Alright, girlie, let's see what you can do," said the one called Dugan.
After a few minutes, Jo turned away from the massacre to face Franky. "So how are you liking your first taste of Bogo?"
"It'll definitely linger," he said. "I've never been somewhere so, so..."
"Intense?" Jo hazarded.
"Robust," he decided. "It reminds me of a bad table wine, the kind my uncle Gianni makes. It knocks you on your arse, and it tastes as cheap as it is, but there's just something about it that pulls you back for more."
"An apt description," Jo agreed. "Harry loves this place—simply loves it. It's the only place more brash and unfettered and louder than her, I think. The only place where the average person has less self-control in a fight."
"If I didn't think Bogo was dangerous before..." Franky said, eliciting a laugh from the usually-stoic first mate. "I certainly wouldn't want to come here alone, but with you all as chaperones and guides, I can see the appeal. Though, I simply can't imagine Miss Euphemia loose on this place," he added, thinking of the old woman back on the boat with the newest addition, Junia, and Silence.
"I pray to God you get to see it at least once," Jo said, taking a pull of her flask. "Last time she was here, there was dancing on the tables."
"On the tables?"
"On the tables."
"At her age?"
"Mmm-hmm. There were high kicks of the like not even Paris has seen," asserted Jo. "Lace and petticoats and those clunky black boots of hers. Then she stabbed a pickpocket with her parasol and got him to return everything he'd taken from the patrons. By the end of her lecture, he was sobbing like a lost child, and he swore until he was blue in the face that he was going to turn his life around the very next day."
Franky let the whole picture wash over him and shook his head slightly. "Well, that certainly sounds like Miss Euphemia."
Jo offered her flask and Franky took a pull. "Good Lord," he spluttered, handing it back as his face turned red. "What the hell is that?"
"Pepper whisky," she said. "Make it myself. Something my mother picked up during her travels, from one of the Solomon Islands. Supposed to be the most potent alcoholic drink in the world, or so the chief claimed."
"The Solomons—where the cannibals live?" he coughed.
"Chief Wanganu took a liking to Mum," Jo said. "Said he liked seeing a bunch of white men take orders from someone even darker than him. The chief didn't have a very high opinion of white men. Did like the taste of them, though. Said they tasted like suckling pig."
"And you can stomach that stuff?" Franky rubbed his hands over his flushed face. He couldn't feel his tongue. Or his lips. And he was pretty sure his teeth must be dissolving.
"Don't ever get in a drinking competition with Jo," Maddie advised, sitting down heavily on Franky's knees. "Only one who can come close to out-drinking her is Harry. Lookit my winnings!"
"That is a very large purse," Franky said appreciatively. "And a very nice silver whistle, ivory handled knife, gold compass, and map. Where's the map lead?"
"Blackbeard's treasure," she replied matter-of-factly.
"Another one?" said Jo.
"Miss Euphemia will like it," Maddie countered. "She collects maps, even shoddy ones. And you never know, do you? Hey, gents, lemme buy you a round of drinks," she called to her defeated opponents, who were settling around a nearby table with a chorus of grumbles.
"With our own money, you mean," muttered one.
His neighbor shoved him. "A beer's a beer, mate," he said. "And we can't afford any more now. Thanks, missy, it'd be most appreciated."
"Violet, bring these gentlemen some drinks!" Maddie said, sweeping an arm grandly.
"Tess, take those gentlemen their drinks," Violet called.
"Yes, ma'am, right away, ma'am, three bags full, ma'am," Tessa grumbled, swinging off Zora's lap.
"Don't know why I put up with your cheek," Violet said good-naturedly.
"Because the richest men come to call on me," she retorted, balancing a laden tray with ease.
"Well, there's that," the barkeep conceded.
"Zora, can I ask you something?" Maddie asked, leaning over Franky's shoulder.
"Sure, Mads."
"How come you don't get jealous?"
"It's just a job, Maddie," Zora said. "Oldest job in the book, even." She smiled as Tessa slapped away a roving hand, telling its owner that sort of privilege required four shillings, which she knew he didn't have.
"But don't you ever worry that someone's gonna come in here and sweep Tessa off her feet?" Maddie insisted. "That she'll fall in love with someone else?"
"If she does, I'll be broke up about it, sure," Zora admitted. "I'll be in a black mood for a couple months, and snap at everyone, and probably do some stupid things. But so long as she's happy, I'll learn to live with it. I can't blame her if one day she gets tired of this work, tired of this place, and accepts someone's offer to escape. That's what I did, after all."
When Tessa had reclaimed her spot on Zora's knee and the two were thoroughly engrossed, Maddie explained quickly to a curious Franky, voice hot in his ear, "Zora used to be a bar wench, at Port Royal. She and Tess both. But then Zora got knocked around pretty bad by a customer and decided she couldn't do it anymore. Harry and Katherine were at the bar at the time, and she just stomped down from her room, face all bloody and bruised, marched right up to Harry, and asked her what it would take to buy a spot on The Sappho."
"But Tessa stayed there?"
"Yeah, for a couple months. But then she decided she wanted to go someplace better—"
"Bogo's better than Port Royal?"
"For a wench? Absolutely. Port Royal's under British control, with a garrison and governor and everything. Crawling with British sailors. And if they slap around a wench, what's she gonna do about it? She can't complain or else she'll lose her position, and she can't expect the law to do anything. Not when they'll say stuff like that is just part of the job, and she should be a more virtuous lady if she didn't want such treatment. Here, if a wench gets mishandled she can properly defend herself with a stiletto, or tell her boss
about it. Justice is swift in Bogo."
"And the punishment sticks, hmm?"
"Exactly. Nobody roughs up a wench in Bogo, not unless that's part of the deal and it's paid for first."
"When I first went to sea on my father's fishing boat, I had no idea the world was so complicated," said Franky. "It's obvious Tessa and Zora really care about each other—"
"Oh, yeah, they're mad for each other. Tessa's fine with sleeping with men, but she only loves Zora."
"Then why doesn't Tessa sail with us, too? So they can be together?"
"Tessa doesn't like sailing. Says too much open ocean gives her the collywobbles. And Zora jumped ship just to get away, at first, but now she really loves it. Says she can't imagine staying put on dry land. And because neither wants to make the other miserable, Tessa works here and Zora visits."
"Still, it must be frustrating."
"Yeah," agreed Maddie, combing her fingers through his shaggy hair. "Can't imagine having to be apart that long..."
"This place is turning into a regular love nest," Jo sighed, heaving herself out of her chair and leaving the two couples to get on with it. She wandered past the fireplace, where Agnessa and Hugh Dawkins were deep in conversation about the differences between the British and Swedish navies, and made her way to the furthest corner where Hope and Harry were sitting.
"Giving it another try, huh?" she asked, surveying the game board laid out between the two.
"Every great leader should know Go," Hope said, hands folded demurely on the table before her. "It is the game of emperors."
"Why are there so many pieces, though?" Harry said, chewing her bottom lip. "And so many rules. Feel like my brain's turning into a knot." She reached out hesitantly, selected a polished white stone, and made a move.
Hope's hand flew across the board, collecting several of her captain's pieces. "Your turn again, Captain."
"Sometimes you've just got to accept your weaknesses, Harriet," Jo said, patting her on the back. "Complex games of strategy are simply not your forte." Then she reached over and made a move for her, eliciting a gasp of surprise from Hope. "And I believe that's game over."
"Miss Hope?"
The Search for Aveline Page 11
