I was not alarmed, as I was curious and thought the Gods seemed to be smiling upon us.
Twenty-Four
Wherein We Venture to Tortuga
The brigantine was named Maria. Cudro, as was his duty as quartermaster, took command of her to sail to Tortuga. The Bard sent his best man to pilot her; and he would have sent Tom as well, but the young man refused to leave Dickey’s side. The rest of the buccaneers were left to decide for themselves upon which ship they chose to sail to Tortuga. As Gaston needed to stay with Dickey, we would remain on the Mayflower. Unfortunately, this left us in a bit of a predicament, as the five people with the most interest in the brig, namely Striker, Pete, the Bard, Gaston and myself, were not on her. Cudro and his men, and Hastings and his cronies, were.
I stood on the quarterdeck and watched men transfer their gear with alarm. I noted my concerns to the Bard.
“Perhaps we should send Julio, Davey, Liam and Otter to protect our interests,” I said. “But in the possible event of Cudro or Hastings deciding to strike out on their own, I would not wish to lose good friends.”
“You truly trust Cudro so little?” The Bard asked.
“Aye, nay, I do not know. Hastings I do not trust. Cudro, I simply dislike.”
“Why?”
“He once used my matelot poorly; but they have since reached a state of truce, and Cudro vows he had reason for his ire.”
Striker joined us and I relayed my concerns to him. He regarded me as if I were daft.
“We will see them on Tortuga. The booty stays aboard this ship.”
I had not thought of that. In all the excitement of getting a new ship, I had forgotten the silver and emeralds. Then I recalled he had mentioned a plan of some sort.
“What is this plan you have?”
“We will go below and discuss it once they are sailing safely alongside,” Striker said.
“On a leash of greed, or at the very least, need,” I said.
We moved Dickey into the steerage cabin Cudro had occupied and placed him on the floor. Dickey lying flat upon a surface was in better keeping with his health and breathing, and certainly less painful with his mangled ribs, than bending him up in a hammock. Tom moved in with him.
Soon both vessels were on our original course, beating our way up to pass north of Jamaica and into the Windward Passage. Gaston and I retired to the aft cabin with bowls of mutton stew. Pete and Striker were already there. After leaving Belfry at the helm, the Bard joined us.
“Are we all in agreement as to wanting that brig?” Striker asked.
“I am curious,” I said. “What is the usual course of events upon capturing a prize? I know the Admiralty Court if we sail back to Port Royal. But what does that entail?”
The four of them frowned at me, and Striker shook his head. “Lord, Will, I keep thinking you have been amongst us far longer.”
“As do I, as I feel I have been upon the sea forever, yet it has only been a mere four interminable months.” I grinned.
“And not all of that has been at sea,” the Bard said. “We should not even count you a sailor.”
“He is not a sailor, he is a fliebuster,” Gaston said.
“And a boucanier,” I added.
“The course of things is that a prize is sailed into Port Royal and surrendered to the Admiralty Court as being salvaged from the Spaniards. They are given an amount of time to sail in and claim her. Then she is put up for auction. The proceeds of which are split between the men of the ship that took her, after the court takes a percentage for the Crown of course. Now, the captain or the quartermaster who took her could be the only bidders, and thus they merely buy out the other men’s shares and give the Crown its share.”
“Surely you jest,” I said.
They laughed.
“So, if the Mayflower had not been the only ship Bradley and all of you survivors arrived on, it would have been subject to this?”
The Bard and Striker nodded.
“And, I gather, so would this brig if we sailed into Port Royal. What of Tortuga?”
“They will not ask,” Gaston said. “We will be selling cargo and spending money.”
“That is decent and considerate of them,” I said. “So where does that leave the ownership of both vessels?”
“The Mayflower belongs to the men who shed blood to take her; however, she is nominally considered to be Bradley’s, as he was captain at the time,” the Bard said. “The brig belongs to all of the men of the Mayflower for this voyage. If we were to continue to sail with her and the Mayflower together, she would be manned by whoever wished it and have an elected captain. We would do well not to sail into Port Royal for a bit, yet; or if we did, it would behoove us to do so with a mostly French crew and the ability to claim we bought her or the like.”
“But… Some of us wish to own her,” I said.
There were nods all around.
“How is that accomplished? Do we buy out the other men’s interest?”
“Precisely,” Striker said with a grin. “The same as if she were up for auction, except there will only be one set of bidders and the Crown gets none of it.”
I thought of all the treasure on this voyage that the Crown would see none of. “What will Modyford, or for that matter Morgan and Bradley, think when eventually we return with two ships, no cargo, and wealthy buccaneers?”
“That we cheated the Crown,” Striker said.
I chuckled. “And how do you intend to address that matter?”
“We will give them a bit of something and lie about the true amounts,” Striker said.
“So we will bribe them.”
“Aye. Do you take issue with it?”
“Me, bribery? Never. I have always said the fastest way to a man’s heart is a well-greased palm.”
They laughed.
“Aye, but I will not go that far to appease them,” Striker said.
“I meant money, you dog.” I grinned. “So you intend that we should buy the other men out of the brig. How will we go about that? You mentioned our cooperation earlier.”
“How much did you spend on provisions?” Striker asked.
I nodded as I saw his plan. “We have receipts for one hundred and seventy pounds; you have a like amount for sails and other items for this ship – which means we are already due at least three hundred pounds from the booty in recompense, in addition to our shares. The brig is worth what?”
“Four hundred pounds or so.”
“Truly, only that?”
They all nodded.
I shrugged. “So we get the men to agree on a price, and then we use the receipts and our shares against it, and we have a ship and they still have all their shares. And then, of course, Bradley gets the Mayflower returned to him. Am I correct?”
“You possess a keen intellect for grasping a situation,” Striker said. “In addition to that, I say we take the largest of the emeralds for bribing Modyford. As we have discussed, we can’t sell them for their value. In the end, when he sells them in England he will probably recoup far more than the ten percent due the Crown. But if we cannot get their true value they may as well be rocks to us anyway. And he will be happy in that he will not have to share them with the Crown.”
“Aye, I can see that. What of the cargo on the brig? Sell it and divide it? And what of the rest of the emeralds? I believe you were going to attempt to locate a man amongst us who knows more of gems than I. But then I believe you were distracted by the appearance of the brig.”
Striker nodded. “I remembered to ask about a little as we gave chase, but no one came forth. I believe we are on your own.”
“Well, at the very least we should set about sorting them.”
“During the day, on deck, so that none accuse us of pocketing any.”
I shrugged. “They will be easier to sort in the light of day.”
I looked about the table and my eyes fell upon the Bard. “Not to be rudely inquisitive, but were you planning on being an owner,
or did you simply wish to sail this new ship?”
He shrugged. “I have no money invested in this voyage, as you two do to put against her value. I do have an extra share as Master of Sail. I do have a goodly amount tucked away in Port Royal. It will depend on whether the four of you wish to have an extra partner or no. And, though I know you will harbor misgivings, I know Cudro is also interested in her.”
We all sat in thought.
“DoNa’LikeVotin’,” Pete said. He looked at all of our quizzical expressions and shrugged. “EveryManHavin’ ASayBeFair. ButAGroup O’Men BeAsDumbAsSheep. SixMen Captain MasterO’Sail Quartermaster Surgeon.” He had counted off the four positions on his fingers; and now he looked at me and then his hands, where he had two more fingers cocked, and he sighed. “An’WhatEverIt IsWillAn’MeBe. IfThereBeSixO’ Us An’ItBeArShip ThenNoElections WeGiveTheMen ASayWhenWeWant WeDoNotLikeAMan ThenWeDoNot SailWith’Im. Control LikeChessPieces WeBeTheImportantOnes TheyBePawns.”
I agreed with him, and I found that vexing. There was still a little of Rucker’s voice left within me saying that democracy was the best form of government. Unfortunately, my years of experience since his idealized tutelage had taught me all too well that not all men are educated enough to make their own decisions, much less decisions for others. Additionally, most men are sheep, even here where they are well-armed. As long as men were free to come and go and no one was forced under anyone’s rule, I felt a benevolent monarchy served the best interests of any group. An oligarchy was a little more troublesome, but I was sure we could manage it. We needed men, and if men were to want to serve with us, they must be treated well and fairly. Therefore their interests were protected by ours. And they would be well-armed pawns, and not easy to force to anything truly against their will.
We would be six wolves, or rather four wolves and two centaurs, with as many sheep as we could pack on the brig. And some of those sheep would undoubtedly be wolves in wool suits. What Pete proposed was no different from what we had now, except for it involving less uncertainty and need for currying favor.
“I concur,” I added to the general nodding of heads.
I met Gaston’s eyes and knew we both wished to discuss the matter in private, though he had publicly agreed to Pete’s proposal, just as I had. I gathered it stirred thoughts in him similar to mine. It made for other interesting issues, as well.
“Pete and I get titles, though.”
“Aye,” The Bard agreed. “You can be the purser.”
There was laughter all around.
I sighed. “If I am correct, that would make me in charge of victualing.”
“And cargo, and booty, and the selling of same, and the sharing of same,” Striker said.
“All right, then, I can see where that would be useful. And Pete?”
“Strictly speaking,” the Bard said, “he is not an able seaman; and I cannot see him as bo’sun. He is also not a gunner or a carpenter. In the Navy he could be a lieutenant, even the first lieutenant, essentially the first officer on a merchant ship.”
“FirstMatelot,” Pete laughed.
“Hold,” I said. “Pete, please take no offense, as I mean you none. At this time, if something were to happen to Striker, what would occur? Prior to this meeting.”
“If it is a matter of command on land or during battle, then Cudro is still quartermaster and the command passes to him,” Striker said. “If we were about to go into combat or something arose prior to Tortuga, the first thing we would do is hold an election to choose a new quartermaster for this vessel. If we are at sea and it not be a matter of battle, then the Bard takes command until an election is held.”
That was as I had remembered from the articles. “If Pete were first officer, he would supercede that, correct?”
They nodded.
“Pete, what would you do if something were to happen to Striker? After you have done everything in your power to preserve any life he had left, meted out revenge on any who dared harm him, and railed against God?”
Everyone was quiet as my words sank home. Striker looked to Pete. “He is right; you cannot be next to command if something should happen to me, because you will get the men killed out of anger or grief.”
Pete nodded soberly. “ItBeTrue.”
Striker was regarding Gaston and me. “If I had my druthers, I would choose Gaston as my second in command; but the men will not follow him, and he’s our surgeon.”
“Thank you,” Gaston said sincerely.
Striker nodded and pointed to me. “You, however, would have the support and advice of every man at this table; and even if you know little, you learn fast and react well. So I feel you should be the first officer.”
Gaston, the Bard, and even Pete were nodding in agreement. Having been raised a wolf, I knew I would sleep well at night in the bowers of this scenario. I would be in control if the person I chose to place my trust in was taken from me, or rather us. I did not truly want to be responsible, as I knew what that entailed; but knowing I would have a say in my own destiny and the destiny of others in a crisis was reassuring to me.
“I will accept.” I chided Striker with a grin, “However, you had best keep your head about your shoulders, as I do not wish to command.”
“You will have duties,” Striker said.
The Bard chuckled, “The same that he has already assumed.”
“That echoes my thoughts exactly,” Striker said. “You are already acting as first officer.”
“It is his breeding,” Gaston said, and grinned.
“Lord Will,” Striker chuckled. “Are you sure you would rather not be captain?”
“Just because a thing is prevalent in a man’s nature does not make him enamored of it. And I feel it is less in the breeding than in the training.”
“IBePurser?” Pete asked.
“Nay,” Striker and the Bard said in unison.
Pete’s head slumped down upon his arm on the table, and he worried at a knot in the wood with his thumb nail. “LikedItBetter WhenYouBe Quartermaster. ThisBeDull.”
Striker grimaced and tousled his hair. “I am sorry, Petey, I truly am.”
“NayIBeAnArse.” He sat up and shook his head. “YaWaitedALongTime.”
“It will be more to your liking this winter,” Striker said. “We will sail with Morgan and raid on land, and you and I will be in the thick of it as always.”
This seemed to cheer Pete a little.
Later that night, Gaston and I stood at the aft railing, with our chins upon our arms and our eyes upon our wake. “I did not come to the West Indies to command ships or buccaneers,” I said.
“I did not wish to become a surgeon for the same.”
“Then what the Devil are we doing?”
“I always wanted friends. I feel I have treated the few who have tried to befriend me poorly. Now we have friends who need us to do these things. I feel they would do much for us, so why should we deny them?”
“Oui, oui,” I sighed. “That is reasoning I guess I have oft followed, not always to good result. I did not intend to become an assassin in Florence, or a thief in Paris, or a duelist in Geneva. I have a habit of falling in with people who seem fond of me and whose opinion I value and… In that regard I am not a leader at all. I find ways of facilitating other’s needs. I find myself going with the herd, assessing its needs and then insuring they are met.”
“Perhaps that is what centaurs do,” he said somewhat wistfully.
“Are we maturing and accepting the yoke of responsibility?”
He sighed, a long pronounced sound, and I was sure he had expelled every iota of breath in his body. “Oui.”
“Then what the Devil are we doing?”
He chuckled.
The next day, we counted silver and sorted emeralds. Julio and a man named Krahe proved to have fine eyes for gems. We removed all the stones from the chest, and came to see that they were not all cut. They quickly became two piles, faceted and not. Then we separated the cut ones acc
ording to perceivable value, based upon the related factors of their size, color, clarity and how flawed they were. I quickly realized just how much I had learned about gems in the courts. We soon had little piles spread along the deck. They ranged from the truly fine stones of the largest size, least flaws, deepest color, and greatest clarity, to the small, pale, flawed, and cloudy gems.
This done, we assessed the uncut rocks. I had heard many times that the cutting and shaping of gems was an art and a stone could be found or made in the process. Some stones were flawed inside and easily shattered; and a deficient jeweler could ruin a good stone quite easily. So even though some of the hunks we regarded might have yielded gems of impressive size, it was unlikely they could be cut of a piece to form only one gem. And, of course, uncut they held more potential than value. The Spanish had jewelers in the New World; we did not.
The silver was easier. Striker and others had long since ascertained that we had exactly thirty-five thousand two hundred and eighty-seven pieces of eight. All eyes were now on the gems. I explained my concerns in assessing value for the larger uncut hunks to Striker, in front of all the men aboard the Mayflower. I ended with, “If a man were to take these to England, they would have more value to him than someone attempting to sell them here.”
“And who would do that?” someone asked.
“Modyford,” I snapped.
Striker explained that we had to bribe the governor with something, and the uncut emeralds looked to be our best bet because we could not get full value for them. The men seemed to understand this, and any grumbling ceased. It was agreed by those present that Modyford could have the largest of the uncut hunks. Of course, this would need to go to a vote amongst all the men when we divided the treasure; but for now, the matter was resolved.
I had been thinking on how best to tackle the problem of value during the entire sorting. I could not tell how much the gems were worth in Port Royal, or any place in Christendom. I had initially been baffled as to how to assign value. Then I had come upon the idea of keeping their value relative to one another and not assigning a monetary amount. So I had set about puzzling out a ranking system, wherein a certain number of lower value stones would equal one from the next rank up, and so on. Then I determined the total number of shares we required, eighty-four, and divided the stones into eighty-four equal piles based upon their ranking. Of course, the best stones were worth more than a share; and so I judged them at two shares apiece, and figured they could go to matelots or men like the Bard or Cudro, who received more than a single share.
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