“Aye and nay,” he snorted. “And even if we could, I have this occasional fear of running afoul of an actual English Navy vessel and not being an honest privateer.”
“Do you think it likely?”
“Nay, but it haunts me sometimes.”
“Would that be why you have never left the tropics?”
“It would indeed. I will not be put in chains again, Will,” he said soberly. “And I do not have it in my nature to abide the law.” He was in earnest, and I was surprised by it. Pete even stood and regarded him with concern.
“Let us see that we do not run afoul of it, then,” I said seriously.
He shook off the mood and grinned sheepishly. “Right. Let us get about it, then.”
“We will meet you above in a moment,” I said.
Striker frowned and looked from Gaston to me. “Did we interrupt?”
“Perhaps,” I said flatly.
“YouHadTime,” Pete said. “YouWereGoneAwhile.”
“Perhaps we should not share a cabin,” I said and kicked him in the leg. Pete laughed.
Striker made a derisive noise as he stood. “We will establish a signal.”
“Knocking may also be appropriate. Fewer people may be shot that way.” I brandished the pistol I still held with a smile.
He grinned. “I heard there was a shooting this week. Some matter about an escaped bondsman.”
“Damn you for mentioning it,” I sighed. “Aye, there was, though that was not my intent. We will tell you of it over a bottle.”
“We will see you up top,” Striker said with a chuckle.
They closed the door behind them, and I looked to Gaston. “This seems quite the risky investment.”
He shrugged. “I have the money I have because I do not spend it. Perhaps this is another way I choose to venture forth from my cave.”
“I bid you welcome to the world then.”
“In the name of other centaurs?”
“Oui, though I have seen no other. But I believe you were telling me of something.”
He shook his head. “It will wait until tonight, and perhaps a bottle. We should go.” He paused in crawling off the bunk and regarded me. His lips twitched into a smile, and he kissed my forehead. “Will a kiss suffice for reassurance, or is there something you would have me say?”
I smiled and did not think long on it. “A kiss will do.”
On deck, we found that there were indeed a number of new men aboard. Our musketeers had taken Belfry and the boys into town to equip them in all they would need to be buccaneers. I imagined the three of them with earrings and smiled. I imagined Liam regaling them with buccaneer lore the entire way and smiled wider.
Striker left the Bard to greet new arrivals. We took our boat back to the Hole and made our way to Theodore’s. Bradley had long since left, but he had been headed to the Three Tunns and would be easy to find. His being sober was unlikely, though, and Striker was not pleased.
“I will make what I can of it,” Striker said. He regarded Theodore thoughtfully. “We will have need of a marque. I have not captained before, and I know not the way of that.”
“Ah, it will not be an issue,” Theodore said. “I will send a note to the governor. He may wish for you to ride out to Spanish Town and pick it up.”
Striker shrugged. “Whatever must be done. Thank you for your assistance. If I owe you anything…?”
Theodore waved him off. “I do not issue them, and in this case I need not represent you. You have many men to recommend you.”
“Thank you,” Striker said. He paused on his way to the door. “There may be other matters I will need your services on.”
“You know where I am,” Theodore said.
Striker grinned, and took Pete in search of Bradley.
“You will be sailing?” Theodore asked me.
“Within days. Do you have need of me before I go?”
“Perhaps you should write your father again.”
I sighed. “Actually, I should take the time and write better letters to several others. But aye, I will sit and do it. Will you provide the paper?”
He opened a drawer on his desk and pointed theatrically.
I laughed. “Not tonight. In the morning, perhaps.”
“Is there anything you wish for me to do in your absence?” he asked.
“Keep the house,” I shrugged. Gaston nudged me, and I remembered. “Ah, and we have purchased two horses. They are at the livery, and you are welcome to use them if you have need. We left your name, but I am sure if you asked of them using our names, there will be no problem.”
“Thank you, that is thoughtful. Why ever did you purchase a horse when you…?”
“Will be here so seldom? Aye. Well, we were concerned for their welfare.”
His smile froze, and I saw much occurring behind his eyes.
“Are you not pleased I am leaving?” I grinned.
“Aye,” he said slowly with a thoughtful nod. Then he smiled sincerely. “I will anticipate the excitement of your homecoming, though. You liven things quite nicely when you are about.”
“Aye, aye,” I grumbled. “Please look in on Rachel from time to time.”
“I will be pleased to do so,” he said enthusiastically.
“She is Jewish,” I said.
“Some obstacles can be overcome.”
I snorted with amusement. “It has been my experience that religion is rarely one of them. We will see you on the morrow, then.”
“He is attracted to that woman?” Gaston asked incredulously as we walked down the street.
“She is comely enough, and he is lonely. You do not find me revolting, and I would think that a greater stretch of preference.”
“There is much to your mind and spirit to recommend you,” he said seriously.
“Thank you.”
“And your body.”
I stumbled and stopped to regard him. “Thank you.”
He flushed and walked on ahead. I wondered at his thoughts, but felt it best to leave him to them.
We found Striker, Pete, and Bradley at the Three Tunns as expected. Bradley did not appear to have achieved drunkenness yet, but he was well on his way. He glared at us as we approached their table, and I was hesitant to join them. Either the man was possessed of the most Mercurial disposition or we brought out the worst in him. Striker looked confused at Bradley’s ill temper, and glanced at me curiously.
I decided retreat might be a diplomatic necessity.
“Have you seen Cudro yet?” I asked.
Striker shook his head.
“Then we shall go and find him,” I said, and we took our leave.
Gaston appeared glum, and I was angry at Bradley for making him feel unwelcome.
Pete caught us before we reached the door. “BradleyDoNa’LikeYa. Na’’Im,” he pointed at Gaston. “ButYou.”
“I am not blind,” I sighed. I know he does not like one of us. I am almost relieved to hear it is me. Would you know why?”
“You’reRichAn’ANoble.”
“I can see how… Nay, I cannot. That did not seem to offend him, when first we met. He liked me, and then we burned the ship and he did not like me, and then he resented my defining matelotage as marriage, and then Gaston would not let Cleghorn bleed me. I can see where all of that somehow affected his opinion of me, but then he liked me again after we took the galleon. But perhaps that was only because we were all very rich then. Now he dislikes me again. I am left thinking it is us that he dislikes, not me and I do not see where any of it has to do with my birth.”
Deep in thought, Pete doffed his kerchief and scratched the pale stubble on his head. He frowned at the shadowed table where Striker and Bradley sat.
“Envy,” he finally pronounced.
“Truly, you feel he is envious of me?”
“Aye.” He nodded more to himself than me. “That’sWhat’ESays. ThatNobleRascal CanDoAs’EPleases. Makes’ImAngry. YouHaveTitleAn’Matelot. YaEven’AveFriendsAn�
��Skill. An’APlantationAn’Money. You’AveAllManner O’ Things’E’sWorkedHardFor. ’EDoesNa’’AveIt NowAn’YaDo.”
“Oh good Lord,” I sighed. “I barely have title. I have no money of my own. And the plantation is not mine. How does one fight this? What can I possibly say to convince him otherwise?” I regarded Pete. “Is he the only man that thinks thusly concerning me?”
Pete shook his head sadly.
I shook mine. “Damn it, for years I traveled by many a name, none of them my father’s, and I made my own way in the world. I come here where I should do likewise and… I should never have let anyone know who I am. I do not know how that would have been possible, though, considering my original business here.” I looked back at the table. “I worked hard for what I have, too, or at least I paid for it. Granted, I have done some immoral and disreputable things to get what I have on occasion.” I listened to my words. “And I whine like a child.”
Pete was watching me with a look about him that made him seem another man, a smarter and wiser man than he usually appeared. He favored me with a knowing smile, and mischief glinted in his gaze, as if I had caught him at something. The look of him at that moment brought something to mind that I could not name, and I stood staring at him like a daft cow.
He laughed at me and clasped my shoulders to give me a little shake. “ILikeYa. YaBeAGoodMan. IfTheOthersKnewYaAsIDo, TheyWouldNa’Say SuchThings. BradleyBeAFool.”
I had it. He made me think of all the tales of gods and angels appearing as mortal men to judge the living.
“Would that get me into Heaven? Your approval?”
He regarded me quizzically. “YaWantTaGoTaHeaven? Why? MustBeDull.”
“Maybe it is more akin to the Elysian Fields or Valhalla?”
“What?”
“A place where warriors go and live a life of endless feasting, hunting, and games.”
He smiled. “SoundsLikeAPastor’sHell.”
“I suppose it does. Thank you, Pete.”
“For what?” he shrugged.
“For being my friend. It means a great deal to me.”
He smiled slyly. “WhinyNobleDahgs NeedFriendsToo.” He winked at Gaston and returned to Striker and Bradley, accompanied by my laughter.
“Did you see him just then?” I asked in French once we were outside.
Gaston smiled. “I told you he is not as he appears.”
“Oui, I think he is a God who walks amongst us in judgment.”
“Thus your question?”
“Oui.”
He grinned. “Pete is a God. We are fortunate to have befriended him.”
If Pete was a God, Cudro was the man who would be king. We located him holding court in the Sugarloaf on Lime Street. He seemed pleased to see us, and we pulled him aside and conferred at length over the muskets in quiet French. He was amazed we had simply purchased them. I asked him to confer with Liam and compile a list of twelve men from the North Wind who needed them and to determine who the best shots were, so that they could have the better weapons. He readily agreed, and said he would go to the Mayflower that night.
Gaston and I exchanged a look, and with a subtle shrug, my matelot approved my handing Cudro the vouchers.
“There is a voucher here for each gun,” I told Cudro. “Massey will hand them to whoever presents these. They are also good for an allotment of shot and powder.”
Cudro understood their value and quickly tucked them away.
“Now, how goes the recruiting?” I asked. “We just left Striker conferring with Bradley. Striker wishes to sail this week, so that we will have time to careen and hunt for single ships heading to Havana before following the Galleons. This ship is not the sloop. We can carry more men but…”
“How will we provision if time is of the essence?” he asked.
“We were thinking of provisioning here.”
“On credit?” he scoffed.
“Non, I would provide the money,” Gaston said. “We may choose to sell a prize on Île de la Tortue.”
Cudro nodded thoughtfully. “That would do well by me. I have business I should attend to on Île de la Tortue. You have that…?”
Gaston cut him off with a glare. “Obviously.”
“Then buy the boys a round.” Cudro grinned.
The cunning bastard had us, and I chuckled, though Gaston still glared.
“By the way, we need gunners,” I added before the drinking began.
Cudro regarded me sharply. “She’s that slow?”
“Oui, apparently. The Bard suggested it.”
Cudro swore quietly. Then he introduced us all around to the twenty or so men present. A few of them we had met before, and others were new to me, many of them Dutch and French. Gaston seemed familiar with many, though, and they with him. They were quite surprised when he bought them rum.
Still smarting from Bradley’s assessment of me, and not wanting to engender the same anywhere else in Port Royal, I cajoled Gaston to stay and drink with them. I even told salacious tales of my travels, which seemed to amuse them greatly.
Several hours later, we sat at a wobbly table and watched a line of men waiting for the one available whore. I became acutely aware of my surroundings and the state of my being, which was hungry and nauseated, as I had consumed nothing except beer and rum since noon. Gaston looked as I felt. Cudro was busy talking to a man who had been a gunner in the French Navy. We bid them adieu and took our leave. When we staggered out into the night, I was unsure of the way home for a moment. Gaston had thankfully not consumed as much as I, and he pulled my arm over his shoulder and took me home.
There was no one about on the main floor of the house, but there was a platter of cheese and boucan on the dining table. We shoved food in our mouths and drank a great deal of water. Then I was compelled to use the latrine for an extended period, as I am often wont to do after drinking. Gaston went upstairs without me.
Sometime later, I felt much relieved in a multitude of ways, including the possession of a clearer head; I slipped upstairs. The light seeping under the door was a beacon calling me home. I entered the room, and found Gaston naked and kneeling upon the hammock. I was initially delighted, until I saw that though he was physically there before me, his mind was somewhere very far away. His body was tense, and he looked down upon the netting with his head cocked and his hands held before him, fingers twitching ever so slightly, as if he were trying to feel a thing that could not be seen.
I guessed he was pursuing his elusive memory again, but fear clutched at me and I was unsure what to do. As he was not moving toward me and did not seem to be aware of my presence, I decided to slowly remove my weapons and set them upon the trunk. A scabbard thumped more than I intended, and I looked up to find him regarding me. His eyes once again reminded me of a child’s, wide and innocent, as they had that night on the North Wind and later on the galleon when he had arranged the bodies into La Pieta. His gaze was filled with recognition and joy at seeing me. He held out his hand, and with a stomach full of leaden fear I went to join him.
“I made love to an angel,” he whispered, once my hand was firmly in his.
I could not stop myself from frowning, but I nodded.
“She was beautiful,” he continued. “There was white all around,” he gestured to the hammock, “and her skin glowed in the candlelight.”
I found great relief in his speaking of it in the past tense, and I crawled onto the hammock to sit beside him.
“I was as I am now,” he said, “but she was dressed in….” He rubbed his fingers together and concentration suffused his face. “Soft. Cotton. A gown, a nightgown. She smelled of lilacs.” His eyes met mine. “I cannot see her face. I knew that she was the closest to Heaven I would ever be, because in seeing her, I was…. It was wrong.”
I wanted to hold him. Pieces of the puzzle were becoming apparent, and I surmised he had not angered God the Father that night by lying with an angel, but his father in flesh and blood. I slid my arm across his back; a
nd he allowed me to pull him close, and rested his head on my shoulder.
He was sounding more himself. “I think I told you, I dreamed of it last night, after…”
“You told me,” I murmured. “But you could not tell me what you had seen as yet.”
“I have discovered most of that image, just that one image. The lamplight and my nakedness must have reminded me, and the scents today added to it. Then sitting atop you and…” He pulled away enough to regard me. “I had been planning to reciprocate your attentions of last night, but the thought of it all... I found I felt as I did this afternoon. I find I am uncomfortable with… being aggressive, or at least… above, for now, as something occurred that night and I do not know what. And in not understanding it I feel… I want to do nothing to mimic it, lest it engender some deeper memory I do not want to discover whilst… loving you.”
I was of two minds on the matter, as I dearly wanted him to uncover the rest of his past. I understood his reticence, though, in that in doing so he might induce himself to madness and that would be unfortunate to say the least if it involved my lying naked beneath him.
“We need do nothing,” I whispered.
He shook his head. “I…” he flushed. “You have done that before, non?”
“Oui and non. I have been the recipient of similar ministrations, but I had not bestowed them until last night.”
“Would you think me selfish, if I asked you to do so again?”
“Non. It brings me great pleasure to touch you so.”
“Then please do.”
I kissed him and bade him lie down. Then I did as I had the night before, except I was a bit more playful, and took time exploring areas and means of touch that he enjoyed more than others. He in turn was more responsive and inquisitive, and thus the whole of it was more of a mutual act. This time his hand was upon my member when it deposited its offering on his chest, and he was the one who scooped it up and massaged it about his manhood.
I grinned and held him in the aftermath.
I felt loved by Gods both distant and present, and I vowed not to worry myself with demons, or angels, of the past.
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