“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jeff nodded.
The men finished the food and the Captain stood up and pulled out his pipe box. “A smoke, Mr. Greene?”
“No th… Well, sure, why not, I should practice so I don’t cough up a lung if I have to do it later.”
The Captain smiled, “Very good, Mr. Greene. You are already fitting in!” The Captain prepared the pipes and handed one to Jeff. “Remember, suck the smoke in slowly and hold it in your mouth,” Coxen said as he lit a splint and held it to his pipe before passing it to Jeff. Jeff followed suit and managed to light his own pipe without choking. “Well done!” the Captain said with approval.
As the men smoked, Jeff asked, “Captain, please forgive my ignorance, but are you a privateer or a pirate?”
“There really is no difference but a document of authorization ‘twixt the two, Mr. Greene. I have been both at one time or another. Currently I hold documents of authorization as a privateer for the crown, though in truth they were actually granted to another.”
“You stole someone else’s privateering documents?” Jeff asked with amusement.
“I prefer to say that I liberated them. After all, he wasn’t going to be using them - he was dead!”
“You killed him!?” Jeff exclaimed.
“No, nothing like that. Though in my younger days, such deeds were not beneath me. But Captain Clarke and I were actually good friends. We were enjoying some drink and wenches at the tavern one evening when he simply fell over dead. I took his corpse back to his ship and while there I liberated a few items, including his privateering documents. He would have wanted me to have them, I’m certain,” the Captain said with a smile and a wink.
“No doubt,” Jeff laughed in agreement.
“Since you have brought it up, Mr. Greene, I should explain what you may expect if you stay with us when we sail. Over the next few months, I, along with a few other of my brethren, shall be raiding several Spanish settlements along the coast. Most are not well defended, but there is always the risk of Spanish warships showing up at the least opportune moment. If you choose to stay on the Wandering Wench you would not be expected to join my raiding parties, so you would not be at risk from that, but if the ship were to be captured, you would no doubt be sentenced to death with myself and the rest of the crew.”
“I understand, Captain. I will factor that into my decision.”
“Speaking of which,” Coxen replied, “I will need your answer before sundown tomorrow, for we sail at dawn the next day. You are welcome to leave in your canoe, but if you choose to do so, you will want to go ashore some distance from Port Royal and hide it in order to avoid questions. So, you will want to leave yourself sufficient daylight to go ashore and make it to town before dark.”
“Understood,” Jeff nodded. “Do you have any suggestions on how I might make some money to get me started if I do stay in Port Royal?”
“Worry not, Mr. Greene, if you decide to stay, I shall give you an initial stake that should serve until you can find employment.”
“Oh, no Captain, I can’t do that. I wouldn’t feel right about taking your money…” Jeff began.
Coxen held up his hand, “Believe me Mr. Greene, the entertainment you have provided is well worth it, not to mention the fact that you will be earning your keep tomorrow when you assist the crew in taking on supplies. Besides, you really have no choice but to accept at least a small amount of charity, given your circumstances. And believe me, it will be a SMALL amount of charity. I’m not known for my generosity!” the Captain said, erupting in laughter.
“All right then. Thank you, Captain,” Jeff said, joining in the laughter.
As the men’s laughs subsided, there came a knock at the door. “Enter!” the Captain shouted.
Crabtree stepped into the cabin and said, “The men are nearly done with the chores, sir. Shall I have them ready the longboats for Port Royal?”
“Aye, Mr. Crabtree. For the landing party, you, Mr. Graves, Mr. Robinson, Mr. Stevens, and the other Mr. Stevens should stand ready. Mr. Harrison will be in command of the ship in our absence. Notify me when we are ready to shove-off.”
“Aye, Captain,” Crabtree replied before departing. “Well, Mr. Greene, if there is anything you wish to do before we depart, you should do it now.”
“Yes, there is something I should attend to, if you’ll excuse me, Captain.”
“By all means,” the Captain replied with a wave of his hand.
Jeff arose and exited the cabin. He quickly turned to the right and headed for the bucket as the morning’s meal of fruit and fiber was starting to have the expected effect on his bowels. He tried not to look at the bucket too closely as he positioned himself above it and dropped his pants. Steadying himself with his arm grasping the rail as he squatted, he managed to accomplish the task without incident. It was then it occurred to him that there was no such thing as toilet paper. He had thought that the odor of the crew was simply due to a lack of bathing, but now he realized that there was another reason why everyone smelled so bad – now including him! Perhaps he could manage a quick swim later so at least he wouldn’t disgust himself. He pulled himself to his feet and secured his pants before dumping and rinsing the bucket.
Task completed, he made his way to the far end of the deck where the crew was bringing the longboats alongside and lowering the cargo net over the side of the hull. Not knowing exactly what he should do, if anything, Jeff stood out of the way. Crabtree was bent over the rail securing the longboats and looked up at him. “Make yourself useful and inform the Captain that we be ready to shove off.”
Jeff nodded and approached the Captain’s door. Before he could knock, Coxen opened the door and stepped out. “I trust we are ready, Mr. Greene.”
“Yes, Captain.” “Very good.” The two men walked back across the deck. “Mr. Greene, Mr. Robinson, and Mr. Graves, you are with me. Mr. Crabtree, Mr. Stevens, and the other Mr. Stevens you shall follow in the second boat.
“Aye, Captain,” the men replied in unison.
The Captain climbed down the cargo net into the bow of the first longboat. Graves and Robinson motioned for Jeff to go next. As he made it into the boat, the Captain instructed, “You shall ride in the bow, Graves and Robinson shall row, and I shall steer.” Jeff took his place in the bow of the boat as Graves and Robinson climbed in and took their positions at the oars. The men quickly took their positions in the second boat and both boats pushed off from the ship.
Chapter 6: Port Royal
The seas were calm and the trip over to Port Royal went quickly. There were several boats of varying sizes tied up to the docks in the harbor, but the Captain passed them by. “We shall bring the boats up on the beach, Mr. Crabtree,” the Captain shouted to the second boat. “It should make for a shorter distance to carry the supplies.”
“Aye, Captain,” Crabtree acknowledged.
As they approached the shore, Jeff and the others jumped out in the shallow water to pull the boats up onto the sand. “Welcome to Port Royal, Mr. Greene!” the Captain said with a smile. The Captain led the group toward the small row of buildings that made up the town of Port Royal. As they approached the first building, the Captain announced, “We shall replenish our supplies here at the mercantile. It will take us a few trips to load the boats and at least three trips with the boats to restock the ship.” The group entered the building through a rickety door that barely clung to its hinges.
“Captain Coxen! Good to see you!” said a tall, thin man who stood behind the front counter.
“My good Mr. Franklin, how have you been?” the Captain inquired.
“Good, thank you, though could use some more business as I hope ye be here to bring me.”
“Aye,” Nodded the Captain, pulling a piece of paper from his coat. Coxen handed the paper to Franklin and said, “I trust you can supply all of this?”
“Aye,” nodded the shopkeeper, “Except for the salted pork. I don’t have as much as ye require. I can
make it up in dried goat meat if that be acceptable.”
“Aye, that will have to do,” the Captain nodded in agreement.
“New crewman?” Franklin asked, nodding at Jeff.
“A guest on my ship who came to us in the storm. It remains to be seen whether he shall join the crew. Mr. Greene, meet Mr. Franklin.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Franklin,” Jeff said, bowing. Franklin bowed in return.
“Well, Mr. Greene, if ye choose to stay in Port Royal and ye need employment, I could use a stockman.”
“What happened to your other stockman? Thomas wasn’t it?” the Captain inquired.
“He got into a row at the tavern last week and the other fellow cut his throat. A pity. Though he was not so brilliant, Thomas was a strong lad and very trustworthy.”
“A pity indeed,” the Captain agreed. “Well, Mr. Greene, if you decide to stay in Port Royal, you could do worse than to work for Mr. Franklin.”
“Yes, I shall keep your offer in mind, Mr. Franklin. Thank you.”
“Ye might not thank me if you take the job,” Franklin replied. “It is backbreaking work, but I make up for it with low wages,” he said with a laugh. “Speaking of backbreaking work, we should get started with your order, Captain.”
“Aye,” the Captain agreed.
Franklin set about leading the men through the stacks of merchandise and directing what to pull out. “Mr. Greene will be needing some clothing as well,” the Captain said.
Franklin motioned Jeff to a large chest. “There should be something fer ye in there, Mr. Greene. Pull out what ye like.” Jeff rummaged through the chest and found a couple of sets of simple clothes to fit him as the others finished assembling the supplies. Judging from the large wooden crates and burlap sacks they had gathered, Jeff knew there was going to be some hard work ahead to get the items back to the boats.
“Ye be welcome to use my wagon, Captain, but my mule ran off and ye would have to move the wagon yourselves, so it might be easier to just carry your supplies.”
“Aye, everyone carry what you can and make for the boats,” the Captain ordered. Jeff tucked his new clothes inside his shirt, squatted down, and hoisted three sacks of dried beans onto his shoulder before struggling to his feet.
“Not bad, Mr. Greene,” Graves said, holding 2 sacks on his own shoulder. I took ye for a bit o’ a priss, like Robinson here, since neither o’ ye has a proper beard!”
“Fuck you, Graves!” Robinson shouted.
“Best be careful what ye say ‘bout Robinson, Mr. Graves,” Crabtree warned, “He does prepare your meals!”
“Just jokin’, Robinson. I meant no offense!” Graves quickly spoke up.
“Shut your mouth and let’s get these loads to the boats,” Robinson growled back. Crabtree led the group down to the boats and they carefully stacked the supplies so that the loads were as balanced as possible before heading back to the mercantile for more. After a few trips back and forth, the boats were full and the crew struggled to push them back onto the water for the trip back to the Wandering Wench. The trip back seemed to take much longer and the oarsmen on both boats had a much more difficult time rowing the heavy loads. When they finally reached the ship, the entire crew pitched in to offload the cargo before the boats headed to shore once more.
In all, it took four such trips to re-supply the ship. In addition to loading and unloading, Jeff took a turn at one of the oars for two of the trips and by the time the job was complete, he was exhausted, soaked with sweat, and the burning in his muscles was matched only by the burning in the parts of his skin that had been left exposed to the tropical sun. The rest of the landing party was in about the same shape, except for the Captain who had not participated in any of the lifting or rowing, and whose clothing provided substantial protection from sunburn. “A good day’s work, men!” the Captain exclaimed. “If you can summon the strength for one more trip to shore, I’ll cover your expenses at the tavern for the evening.”
“Huzzah!” shouted Crabtree, who was also slightly more energetic than the others for not having done any of the rowing. Jeff and the others were more subdued, but nonetheless all were up for one more trip to shore. Though exhausted, Jeff was looking forward to visiting the tavern, if for no other reason than perhaps he could learn more about the storm that had brought him to this time and maybe figure out how to get back. Jeff volunteered to take one of the oars and Robinson and Graves argued over who would take the other before the Captain stepped in and assigned the duty to Graves.
The boats reached the shore and the crew tumbled out to follow the Captain to the tavern. As they approached, the smell of smoke and food wafted through the air and the sounds of raucous partying reached Jeff’s ears. The group walked through the swinging doors of the tavern and the smell of body odor and liquor mixed with the smoke and food to make a strong, but surprisingly not unpleasant scent. Coming in from the bright sunlight, it took Jeff’s eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim light in the tavern. Though the furnishings were more rustic and the clothing was of course of a different style, Jeff was surprised at how similar the environment seemed to the dive bars of his own time.
The Captain walked over to a large rectangular table that was already occupied by four rough-looking men, who glared at him as he approached. The Captain placed his hands on the table and leaned over. A short discussion with the men followed, with the 4 men breaking into hearty laughter, but then falling silent before nodding their heads. It was too far away in the noise of the tavern for Jeff to hear what was said, but in short order, the men stood up and took their drinks over to another table.
The Captain beckoned Jeff and the rest of the group to take their seats. Jeff sat down next to the Captain and Robinson sat beside him, as the others filled in the rest of the seats with Crabtree and Graves across from Jeff and the two Stevens across from each other at the other end of the table.
“What was that all about?” Jeff asked.
The captain smiled, “I told them that if they didn’t move from my table I’d have you beat the four of them senseless.”
“I guess your crew has quite the reputation,” Jeff nodded.
“Oh, not the crew, I told them specifically that my new crewman – you - would personally beat them senseless if they did not move. That’s when they laughed.”
“You told them what?!”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Greene, I added that you were quite the fighter and they had the option of you beating them senseless, or I could buy them a bottle of rum apiece. That’s when they moved!” Jeff sighed with relief as the others at the table laughed.
The Captain looked around. “Where’s the serving wench when you need her?” Spying a stout, dark-skinned woman delivering drinks to another table, the Captain motioned for her to come over. “A pint of rum for each of my crew and what have you to eat?”
“We have beans and rice with salt pork and fish in banana leaf,” the wench replied.
“Good, bring a portion of each fit for all of us.” The woman nodded and quickly left the table, getting repeatedly groped as she made her way across the room. At the other tables, groups of men were engaged in a variety of activities ranging from storytelling, to games of chance involving dice or cards, to carousing with the handful of women in the room. The serving wench quickly delivered the rum and once again made her way across the tavern while being repeatedly groped. “Drink up, men. You’ve earned it!” the Captain shouted.
A well-endowed woman wearing a yellow cleavage-baring dress approached the Captain and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “Well, if it isn’t Captain Coxen! I had hoped to see you again before you sailed.” she exclaimed happily.
“Mary! The love of my life – or at least my love of the moment!”
“Shall we, Captain?” she asked.
“Aye! Excuse me men, Miss Mary and I have some important business to attend to. But carry on and enjoy yourselves as you please. I shall instruct the proprietor of this fine establishment th
at your charges are mine.” The Captain arose from the table and walked through the tavern with his arm around Mary, exiting through a door in the back.
“Just so I’m clear,” Jeff began, “Mary is a…”
“She be a whore,” Crabtree interjected. “A very talented whore, which is why she be the Captain’s favorite of all the whores in Port Royal,” he added, just as the serving wench managed to push her way to the table with a large platter holding their food and eating utensils. Jeff and the others eagerly dug into the food. Although simple, the food proved to be quite tasty and the hungry crew quickly devoured it.
Crabtree stood up from the table and said, “Well men, now that me belly’s full, methinks it’s time I found me own whore.”
“Aye, me too!” said the two Stevens in unison as they arose and followed Crabtree to the back exit.
“What about you, gentlemen?” Jeff asked, mainly of Graves but including Robinson so as to maintain her cover.
“I’ll head back there in a little while,” Graves replied, “I need to wait until me belly’s not so full.”
“Same for me,” Robinson replied.
At that moment, an attractive red-haired woman in green dress appeared from the back door and made her way over to the table. “Which of ye be Mr. Greene?” she inquired.
“That’s me,” Jeff replied.
“Captain Coxen sent me with his compliments. If you’ll come with me…”
“Uh, that was very kind of the Captain, but no thank you.” Jeff said.
“No? Am I not pleasing to you? Perhaps you would prefer one with different hair?” “No, no, you’re very beautiful. It’s just that I, uh, I would be taking too much advantage of the Captain’s generosity!”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, quite sure, but thank you anyway.”
“Very well,” she said as she turned and exited at the back of the tavern.
Graves eyed Jeff with some suspicion. “Don’t ye like the wenches?” he asked.
Pirates of the Storm (Stranded In Time Book 1) Page 5
