by Steve Goble
Spider drew his eyes across the crew, looking to see if Addison’s words had made anyone particularly nervous. They all seemed to be listening intently, and no one reaction stood out as unusual. They were criminals, discussing criminal business, and they had traded a maniacal, randomly homicidal captain for one who, at least for now, seemed to be willing to parley.
Addison sighed heavily, strolling as he talked. He stopped to pick up Barlow’s abandoned sword and examined it with glee, then picked up the cane housing and rammed the blade home.
“I am not William Barlow. He was my cap’n, and I followed his orders because I agreed to and because, as far as this damned lifestyle will allow, I will deal honestly when I can. But I am not William Barlow, and his ways are not my ways. I understand how one of you, or perhaps a group of you, might have come to the conclusion that Cap’n Barlow would not share the profits from the Frenchman. It was not accounted for in our booty, correct? No one had seen it, or heard a value attached to it. He was secretive, and he asked you to trust him. I do not blame you if you did not. I wondered myself if I might have to, shall we say, make an earnest case to receive my honest pay, and I at least knew what the prize in question was.”
He laughed quietly. “I assure you, lads, that I will share, for I must, aye? I need your goodwill. I need the item you have secreted away. I know that I need you all, even if Barlow forgot it. So you have my assurance, and my assurance is the best deal you are going to get—because unless we deal together, we do not deal at all. Thwart me on this, and no one makes any coin. This I promise.”
Addison’s wanderings had taken him to the tool chest. He sat upon it. “And there it is, lads. My cards are on the table. My thoughts, my intentions are there naked before you all, and you will see the sense of it if you just think a moment. This godforsaken voyage can end with us all selling a much-ballyhooed governmental gadget to the Frenchman for an unholy amount of money that we all can share, that will let us all get off the account for good and live whatever life of ease we choose, or it can end in frustration, with us missing the opportunity of our lives and left to survive on the pickings we can scrape together on an outlaw sea. I know my choice; you tell me yours. I’m of no mind to avenge William Barlow. I did not like the man. I do not care if you stole from under his nose. I will applaud you for that. Give the bauble up to me, though, and you will share in the reward with everyone else.
“But if you force me to find it, I will not be pleased,” he said menacingly, slowly twirling the cane. “I will see that as a breach of the articles, as you not following orders and not working toward the common good of all as what sails aboard this ship. And I will prosecute such a breach of good faith in a most effective, painful, and enduring manner.”
He rose. “Think upon it, lads, and use the brains in your skulls. Meanwhile, I need Spider John, right now. Where are ye, carpenter?”
Spider went forward, unsure of what to expect. So far, Addison’s reaction to the carnage aboard Plymouth Dream had not been anything like what he had anticipated. “Cap’n, sir,” Spider said.
Addison grinned. “There is a comely wench yonder on Loon, a busty lass with fine tresses and smooth skin. She looks out over the sea. Meanwhile, this damned vessel here makes do with half a figurehead, an ugly, headless creature that surely can bring no luck to her crew.”
Spider nodded. “Aye, sir.”
“I do not give a farthing for Loon,” Addison said. “No pirate worth his salt should command a vessel named Loon, do you not agree? This shall be my flagship. This shall be my command. And I will not go forth into the fray with half a figurehead. Barlow may have done so, but I will not! So, Spider John, rape yon wooden wench from Loon and secure her at the head of my flagship.”
“Aye, sir,” Spider said, blinking. The figurehead seemed to Spider the least of Dream’s worries, but Addison clearly had his own priorities.
“And Peg? Where are ye, lad? Ah, there you are. You shall stay aboard the flagship with me. Gather a work crew and some paint. We are changing the name of this cursed vessel.”
Peg blinked. “Is that not to court bad luck, sir?”
Addison laughed. “Do ye consider it possible, Peg, that there is any more bad luck the gods can hurl at this accursed ship, at this crew? Have we not had our share of misfortune, a veritable feast of ill fate, as it were? Do the gods not piss upon us? I believe all the ill luck on these seas has been expended already upon this poor vessel.
“I do not court curses, my boy. I dare to change our luck. And I wish to command a ship whose very name inspires fear in her prey. What sailor, what merchant ever quaked to hear the name Plymouth Dream? It is a name such as might be chosen by a bonny lass, flinging rose petals and sipping tea at a goddamned garden party. No, by God and devil, I mean to command a vessel with a fierce name, a name that will live in history, that will endure and strike fear into the minds of any who hear it. Edward Teach commanded Queen Anne’s Revenge, mark me? Kidd raised hell from the decks of Adventure Galley. And here we are, on a blasted ship bearing the meek and mannerly name of Plymouth Dream. It should be seen as a mark of shame, I say! I told Barlow so, I did!”
Addison spun in a slow revolution, smiling, his eyes beaming.
“We shall paint over the name Plymouth Dream and give this vessel a name worthy of dread sea reavers.”
Addison climbed the ladder to the poop deck. “From this day forward, gentlemen, we sail aboard Red Viper!”
20
Men gawked, and Addison grinned. “You lot know your work. Ship won’t sail herself. Dowd, I declare you may be armed at all times now, as commander of yon Loon. You may rename her, if you please.”
“Ain’t courting such luck as that,” Dowd said dubiously. “I heard of cap’ns what rechristened their ships, and they all be dead. I will command her under the name she bears.”
“Teach changed names on his ships,” Odin said. “Ha! But none of you is Ed Teach, by God!”
“Teach is dead, goddamn ye!” Addison roared at Odin, who merely laughed.
Addison calmed himself—it was difficult work, Spider noted—and sighed. “We shall be more wealthy and more famous than ever Teach was if that bauble is turned over to me.”
Elijah, up top on the mainmast, began humming a hymn, and other men on the yards took it up. Spider saw Elijah open his shirt to reveal a trinket hanging around his neck. The man took it and clutched it tightly.
Spider tugged free Em’s pendant and did the same.
The yellow-and-white cat purred next to Elijah, its tail dangling below the yard and whipping back and forth in time with the music’s rhythm. Spider wondered if the cat had climbed up the mast itself, or gone up on someone’s shoulder. He’d seen the bloody little beast do both.
Addison drew in a deep breath, expelled it in a rush, and sucked in his gut. “And now, there is one prize aboard that I believe I will inspect more closely.”
Addison turned to Weatherall and tossed him a ring of keys from his belt. “That wench, May. Fetch her to me, if you please.”
Weatherall stood still a moment, staring at the keys.
Spider winced. He was no angel, and had paid for a few whores, but he had no stomach to see what was about to happen, and he had admired the girl May for her spirit.
Ezra, ever the gentleman where women were concerned, would have felt the same way, Spider was certain. Ezra would be busy hatching some crazy plan to save May from the fate Addison had in mind.
Spider remembered the fire in May’s eyes and decided she deserved a shot at revenge every bit as much as he did.
He had to stop this.
“Cap’n,” Spider said as Weatherall took his first step toward the forecastle. “That girl has shown some fight, and . . .”
“I believe I can smack her down easily enough, Spider John, without hurting her too much.” Addison laughed. “You shall have your turn, worry not.”
“You miss my meaning, Cap’n.” Spider looked about and raised his voice. �
��I’m saying she don’t deserve to be forced, or hurt. Barlow knew it, Cap’n. He offered her a place and said we’d leave her be.”
“Aye, he did,” Weatherall said, halting his progress toward the forecastle.
“Amen,” Doctor Boddings added, seconded by Tellam, of all people.
Others jeered, of course, but Spider saw more than a few nods of assent. Pirates could admire a courageous fighter, and May had certainly shown herself to be that.
Spider hardened his eyes, for even a little support meant he could raise the specter of Barlow’s death and remind Addison just how badly he needed the crew’s goodwill. “You should listen to your crew, Cap’n, unlike Barlow. She is a scrappy one, I say, and ought not to be passed about,” Spider said. “We should leave her be, sell her in Kingston. She’ll fetch a fair price, I say, and a better one if we don’t damage her.”
A few cheers went up, although not all the men were in agreement. Lust and greed battled in their minds.
Addison said nothing. He was trying to gauge the mood of the men. Spider pressed his case home.
“We’re just days from Jamaica, I say. Even ugly old Odin can get a woman in Jamaica.” He paused while men laughed.
Odin answered. “Ha!”
Spider continued. “So let us leave our pretty girl untouched, sell her for a better price, and we’ll all have more money to spend on more willing wenches in Port Royal. What say you, lads?”
Cheers went up, and hands clapped.
“Articles you all signed don’t leave room for democracy on this vessel,” Addison said quietly. “And I am not beholden to any promises Barlow made to this wench. I am my own man.” He looked about him, meeting men’s eyes. “But I see the wisdom of your words, Spider John.” Addison’s eyes sent a different message, though, and Spider knew he’d made an enemy.
“The business of selling that bauble is our priority, and having our wicks wetted can wait a few more days, if more profit be in the offing. Well enough. Spare the lass for now.”
Spider exhaled; he had not realized he had been holding his breath. He probably had not saved May from much. Fetching as she was, the best she could expect was to become someone’s sex slave once they reached port. Her husband ought not to have brought her out here, he thought.
But Spider had done what he could.
21
That evening, as the newly named Red Viper listed a bit to starboard and made about eight knots under a bright moon that washed away the stars, men drank, or tended their business, but they did not talk.
It remained to be seen whether Addison and a new name might cleanse away whatever curse this vessel sailed under, Spider thought, but the changes certainly had done nothing to change the mood of the men. Spider watched eyes wander as each and every one of them wondered which of his mates had stolen the precious cargo.
The more Spider thought about it, the more certain he became that Ezra’s murder and the theft were linked. He had a healthy suspicion against coincidences.
Ezra’s killer had taken deliberate steps to make the crime look like a drunken accident. Spider could easily imagine almost anyone aboard clubbing Ezra to death in a heated moment, but he had a difficult time imagining any of the crew being clever enough to attempt to cover up the crime. No matter which crewman he pictured as the killer, it seemed the most likely move would be to simply run and hide after the deed. Staying about long enough to drop the rum flask and trying to disguise the bloody murder was the mark of a cool hand.
It would likely have taken such a cool hand to find and steal the captain’s mystery item, too. Spider was not looking for some uneducated common seaman who got pissed and killed a man.
He was looking for a calculating, cold-blooded bastard—not a superstitious seaman who feared the devil had cursed their ship and that Ezra’s presence aboard was the cause of that.
Could the killer be Peg? The man had said a couple of things that made Spider suspicious. He had mentioned Ezra’s mysterious words in the night, about missing some woman. Spider could not believe Ezra had been pining for a woman. It made no sense.
Peg also had mentioned the flask and tried to tie it to Weatherall. Peg also had sought to buy the flask. Was he trying to get it back, out of fear that Spider might derive some clue from it?
Peg also previously had a false leg made of applewood, and had shown himself more than capable of leaping high and kicking a man in the head. Could a crippled man have prompted Ezra to misjudge the danger and gotten close enough to land a fatal blow?
Spider vowed then and there to keep an even closer eye on Peg. Addison, upon assuming command, had kept the one-legged man aboard Red Viper. Did Addy and Peg share some special relationship? Had they worked together to kill Ezra and cover up the deed?
Addison stood at the bow, staring into the distance. Other than issue a few commands to keep Viper on her course, he had said nothing. He had not even menaced Spider over the incident involving May. He merely wandered about, wielding his former captain’s cane-sword like a scepter of command, nodding at men here and there, consulting charts and a sextant, but casting no blame. He had not asked how the fight with Barlow started nor how it ended. He simply worked, watched, and waited.
“Damn your eyes, man!”
Spider’s gaze went toward the mizzenmast, where two men scuffled. They rolled about under the light of a moon so bright that no one had lit a lantern, a hard white moonlight that made them look like combating ghosts. Spider could not identify the pair but saw no knives. They clutched at one another, threw punches and kicked at groins until Addison called out. “That will be enough, gentlemen!”
The combatants froze, loosed their grips, and slowly separated. Spider noted one was a former Loon seaman named Murphy. The other was Peg. “Apologies, Cap’n,” Peg said.
Addison stood nearby, his hands showing no weapon save the cane he leaned upon.
Murphy stood, blood dripping from his nose. “He accused me of . . .”
“I think I might surmise his accusation, lad,” Addison said. “He perhaps alluded to the possibility you might be the thief who puts our enterprises at risk. Am I correct?”
“I asked him that,” Peg said. “We sailed a good while without anyone going after the bloody thing, until these lads came along. I thought it a good notion to ask.”
Addison’s grin shined in the lunar light. “Perhaps. Are you a thief, boy?”
“I am neither a thief nor a boy,” Murphy said. He was maybe in his twenties, muscular, with a shock of wild black hair mussed by the tussle. “Why don’t you ask him if he took it?” He pointed at Peg.
“I am asking all of you,” Addison said quietly. “I do not care, truly, how I get the bloody thing back in my hands. I am not interested in punishing anyone. The mutiny was, as I consider it, committed against Barlow, not against me. If he’d like to avenge it, let him crawl out of the damned sea and do so! The theft was committed against all of us, and I just want the bloody thing back so I can sell it on our behalf and share with you all a bloody fine goddamned payday.”
He headed toward the officers’ bay. “So talk it out. Argue it. But the sooner one of you ends this bloody stubborn game, the sooner we can stop going at one another and start spending some serious loot instead. There’s whores and fine Portuguese porto in Kingston and Port Royal, do not forget it. Good night, lads. Peg, you are in charge.” He climbed down the ladder. Spider could hear Doctor Boddings snoring heavily below.
“Aye, Cap’n,” Peg said before heading toward the poop deck. He gave Murphy a little shove. “You are my lookout. Start climbing.”
Elijah, sipping at rum, shook his head slightly. He removed the trinket from around his neck and held it dangling in the moonlight. It was a chicken foot, or perhaps a turkey foot, hanging from a strap of leather. The talons clutched at a gray stone that sparkled slightly.
“What the devil is that?” Spider asked.
“It is supposed to ward off evil,” Elijah said.
“I do not think it works.”
Spider sighed and clenched his fists. He’d seen many bloody things in his life, but never a vessel so plagued as this one. Barlow had claimed to be captain, and Addison claimed to be captain now, but Spider was beginning to think that Satan was truly in command.
22
In the morning, Addison stood by the hatch as the men of the day watch came up from the hold to the sound of a clanging bell. “Spider, I would have a word with you.”
“Aye, sir.”
Addison walked aft toward the poop deck, and Spider followed. Red Viper was making at least twelve knots, her canvas swelled with wind and her backstays and forestays humming. Addison climbed and nodded at the helmsman.
“Go have a smoke, George, or a drink. I’ll handle her for a bit. Return at the next bell.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” The man ran off, and Thomas the cat, who had been preening on the taffrail, followed him. That left Addison and Spider alone on the poop deck.
Addison took the wheel. Spider stood next to him. The wind pressed at his back, and the ship climbed a swell and dove beyond it, over, and over, and over.
Spider did not speak. He stood, hands behind him, looking down at the deck and waiting for Addison to breach the silence.
Addison lashed the wheel, turned toward him, and put his own nose mere inches away from Spider’s.
“You are a good carpenter, Spider John, and a fine man in a fight,” he said.
Spider did not answer.
“But I swear it, someday when this cruise is ended and we either have a fortune from selling that fucking decoder or we have to make good with the other plunder we’ve got, and I am no longer trying to keep a powder keg from blowing among my crew, you and I will cross swords. And I will gut you, make no mistake.”
