Leroy leans forward again, almost draped across the table. “That preacher is a bad man. He hurt my auntie once and Miz Edith knocked him on his—“
“Leroy,” Edith says, shocked.
Cleo chuckles and winks at Leroy. “I have to tolerate the same kind of small-mindedness. I’m often the only woman on board a ship on Rum Row. It can cause a stir, believe me. And it’s taken a long time to build my reputation in Nassau. Even now, after all these years, there’s still a spot of trouble when a man sees a woman doing this job.”
“How do you handle it, Especially when you know you’ll need to keep doing business with them? I can’t tell the whole town to buzz off.”
“I ignore them. Pretend I don’t hear what they’re saying. If I don’t want other people listening to what they’re saying, why would I bother listening to them?”
“Sometimes that’s easier said than done. Words can hurt as much as a blow,” Edith says.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones—“ Leroy breaks off his song with a look from Edith.
Cleo smiles at him. “That’s true. Words can’t hurt me, but it’s not always a raised hand I have to contend with. They certainly try and cheat me in other ways as well. Because they think they can.”
Edith nods, remembering the mark-up on her building supplies during the renovation. “What do you do about it?”
“I’ve got a network of men I can work with. And there’s a rum runner like Reggie, only a much bigger operation, that’s run by a woman. I try and work with her whenever I can. And as for the others, pft, I simply prove them wrong. It’s a foolish man that ignores me twice.”
There’s a wistful look in Edith’s eye. “I’d love to work with someone like that. Is she on the Row often?”
“Marie’s strictly wholesale. She works on consignment with buyers big enough to fill her cargo hold.”
“Someday I’ll be that big.”
“Until then, why don’t we unwrap these hams and see what Reggie sent?” Cleo moves to the pile of burlap packages.
The pile of burlap grows as Edith’s order of whiskey and rum is unwrapped.
“Harley’s going to be glad to see this, Miz Edith,” Leroy says, shelving the bottles behind the bar.
“I’m glad that Reggie told me you were here, Edith. I hope you don’t mind if I drop around again.”
“I’d love that,” Edith says, smiling. “Perhaps we can do some business together.”
“I’d be honored. I say, I have some premium gin and whiskey on board the Washington. Why don’t I give you some as a ‘housewarming’ gift?”
“That’s very kind of you. I love a good martini. Extra dry.”
“Excellent, although I’m not sure I can get ashore before we head back to port. Miami and Coconut Grove are our last stops. Do you have someone you can send to pick it up tonight?”
Edith nods. Hopefully Darwin will be back. He’s got the Rex out fishing and there’s no way I’d try and drive the Marianne.
Shaking Cleo’s hand, she says, “Not to worry. I’ll make sure someone is there to pick it up. It’s very kind of you.”
“Can I go too?” Leroy asks, giving Edith his most winsome smile.
“Not a chance, kiddo. We’ll be going out after Gator’s closes and that’s too late for you.
“Well, I hope this is the start of a good friendship, Edith.”
“Speaking of which, how much do I owe you? And tell Reggie he’s a real lifesaver.”
* * * *
That night, Edith and Darwin take the Rex out to the Washington, Edith at the wheel. Her shoulders pulled tight, knuckles white; the two snark back and forth about speed, throttles, navigation, weather, and anything else. Mix a woman who hates being told what to do with a man who loves to do the telling and it makes for a stormy trip.
Edith and Darwin scramble aboard the Washington, the Rex lashed to the side of the schooner.
“Edith Duffy. While I live and breathe,” Reggie says, coming over and wrapping Edith in a bear-hug. “And you must be Darwin, the man Cleo told me about who will be doing the smuggling for Gator Joe’s. Hello, I’m Reggie Crompton.”
Cleo steps forward with a hug for Edith. “I promised a housewarming present for Edith. A ham of Gordon’s Special Dry. Perfect for martinis, eh ducks?”
“Excellent, I’ll have one of the crew fetch it for you. While you’re here, is there anything else I could tempt you with? We’ve got the gin, some lovely French brandy, some Canadian whiskey, some scotch, and champagne. The Bacardi rum’s all gone.” He looks to Cleo who nods.
“If you’ve got the stock, I’ll take a dozen bottles of the whiskey, a dozen more of the Gordon’s, and a few bottles of champagne, please,” Edith says, reaching into her pocket to count off bills from the roll of money she’s brought with her.
“We can do that,” Reggie says, directing one of the crew to grab the hams. The crew, supervised by Darwin, begin to stow the hams in out of the way places, secret hatches, under rope. The Rex has many spots to hide contraband liquor.
Reggie grabs one of the bottles of champagne that’s being loaded and pops the cork. Foam spills over the top. “Grab some glasses, Cleo?”
“How are things ashore? Gator’s busy?”
“We had a bit of trouble the other night. Which is about the time Darwin showed up,” Edith says.
Reggie stops pouring. “Edith, are you all right?”
“I think they were just trying to scare me. It all worked out.”
Reggie fills four glasses. “Here you go Darwin.”
“Thanks, but I’m not much for champagne. That’s most likely an Edith thing.”
Edith looks at Cleo and rolls her eyes.
Reggie hands a glass to Edith. “I saw Mae Capone the other day. She says you’re having problems with pirates?”
“Just some harassment from the local Wharf Rats.”
“I’ve heard the Wharf Rats aren’t just into smuggling liquor. They’re also involved in its ugly ‘twin sister’, human smuggling,” Reggie says.
Edith shudders. “That’s horrible.”
“The story I heard,” says Reggie, topping up the champagne glasses, “is that the Wharf Rat’s Boss has the boat captain creating fictitious families for illegal entry into the US. Some the captain claims as his own female family members. Rumour is that last year he made at least thirty trips, all with different women posing as family. Majority of them were prostitutes.”
“Sounds like these Wharf Rats are a rough bunch, Edith. Be careful,” Cleo says with a worried frown.
One of Reggie’s crew arrives. “All stowed away. You’re good to go, ma’am.”
“Safe trip back, Darwin,” Cleo says. “We’ve heard gunshots coming over the water, which means pirates.”
Chapter 52
T he air crackles with the approaching storm. Thunderheads are piling up and the wind has strengthened to gale force, tossing the tops of the trees and scattering branches. Occasionally, there’s a thud on the barn roof as one strikes it.
Inside the barn, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, the Boss looks out over the assembled men. A scruffy lot, but that’s to be expected from a bunch of pirates. Some have families. Most do not—fellow Rats are their family.
The last of the crew arrives. The wind catches the door; takes two hands for the man to pull it shut. Business can begin.
The Boss nods at Buford, and the regular parade of smuggler shakedown and protection money from the local saloons’ proceeds. The Boss notices the cash box does not fill as quickly as some nights. That Jezebel at Gator Joe’s is having an impact on the competition. He drums his fingers on the arm of the chair.
As Whitey returns to his seat after dropping his collections into the box, Buford consults a scrap of paper that he’s pulled from his pocket. “Next up is the eleven people we got coming in on the Reemplazo.
Everett with the ginger hair leans forward, rubbing his hands. “I hope it’s full of dames. We could u
se a little refresh on the local inventory.”
Buford frowns, looking at the list. “Nope. All men. Workers headed to Philadelphia, Savannah, Boston. A few going as far north as Buffalo, and Youngstown, Ohio.”
“Who’s on the hook for this bunch?” Jackson asks.
Buford starts ticking off employers on his fingers: “They’re going to be working in Chinese laundries and restaurants, as local fruit pickers, at a couple of sugar refineries, with a few fishing outfits, and the mines in Thomas West Virginia are taking a bunch.”
Buford ignores the rising chatter and consults his paper again. He turns to the Boss. “The Reemplazo is also carrying three thousand cases of whiskey they picked up in Havana before they sailed to Cojimar for the human cargo. They’re going to wait for us on Rum Row.”
“But we only gotta worry about the booze, right?” Whitey asks from the back of the room.
Buford nods. “We get them to the beach and they’ll be picked up there.”
The Boss has always been impressed with the money associated with human smuggling. They get $100 to $180 per person. Those that can pay more usually take speedy launches rather than travel in the bowels of schooners. Of course, there’s some that will pay even more, $300 to $400, and travel as passengers. The Boss had an unfortunate case a few years ago when some crew on board were ‘selling’ their positions on the ship. One or two don’t matter much, but you can’t sail a schooner even the short distance from Cuba with a crew with no seamanship skills. No, they nipped that practice in the bud.
“Hey Buford, do you remember when the Coast Guard was chasing us, and we shoved the Chinamen into the ship’s coal bin?” Everett asks.
Buford nods and smiles. Jackson pipes in, “My favorite was when we strapped ‘em in life preservers and put ‘em in the water tanks. They floated the whole trip in there although the crew were ticked off about the taste of the water after a few days.”
“Well, these ones are coming in next Saturday night around midnight, weather permitting. We need to make arrangements to meet them on Rum Row. I figure we can bring ‘em all in with two trips. And the booze. They’ll get picked up on shore. I’ll look after one load and Everett, you take the Genuine Risk and pick up whatever I can’t carry.”
“Sure, Buford.”
Buford looks over to Whitey. “With Zeke and Otis gone, it looks like you’re running decoy, Whitey. Between the Chinamen and the booze, it wouldn’t do to catch anybody’s attention. The Mojave always seems to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Gee, Buford. I was decoy last time. Maybe I could ride with Everett and one of the other guys could be decoy,” Whitey says, whining.
“Not a chance. Not with a cargo that valuable. We need somebody disposable. Take out the Black Mariah and make sure that, if there’s any trouble, you get caught this time.”
“And we have plans to deal with the Coast Guard, Mr. Buford?”
“Naw, not yet. We’ve been chasing the skirts of the dame out at Gator’s, just like you asked Boss. Can’t be everywhere.”
The Boss’ knuckles gripping the chair arm turn white as he glowers at Buford. The room goes still. “Excuse me?”
“Uh, I just meant—”
“You’re not suggesting that you’re unable to do two simple tasks? Remove this pair of irritants? I’m suffering with the afflictions of Job.”
“We’re on it, Boss. Not sure yet what the plan is, but we’re on it. Whitey will make sure we get the Reemplazo’s cargo through, and after that we’ll make sure that the Mojave and them Coast Guards aren’t around to hassle us no more.” Buford holds his breath, waiting to see what the Boss does next.
“Okay, that’s it for tonight,” says the Boss.
Buford exhales, crises everted.
The Boss stands. “Go forth and be fruitful. Be safe. Your true brothers are here in this room, and they will have your back.”
The men join him in the familiar refrain picked up from the trenches in France: “No bullet, no shell, no demon in hell shall break this bond called brothers.”
The Boss raises his hands above the heads of Rats’. “Trust in them and trust in me and we will be a mighty army, invincible.”
As the men head outside, there’s a horrific boom. Tops of the cypress trees, live oaks, and pines whirl, spin and tear free. Rain comes down in solid sheets, the wind sending it sideways. The storm roars onto land.
Chapter 53
“Y oo-hoo, anybody home?” Mae Capone comes around the corner of the veranda, carrying a brown paper bag, almost running into Darwin.
“Here, let me take that,” he says, reaching for the bag.
“Oh, how wonderful. A welcoming committee.” Mae eyes Darwin and smiles coquettishly.
“Mae, what a wonderful surprise.” Edith steps onto the veranda.
“I decided I’d better come and check things out. See how you’re getting on. And from the looks of it, you’re getting on pretty well.” She winks at Edith, nodding at Darwin as he carries the bag to the bar.
“That’s Darwin. The fellow I told you about. He’s giving me a hand,” Edith says in a whisper.
“I bet he is,” Mae says with a wink.
“He must have been fishing the last time you were here.”
“I’d have definitely remembered meeting him,” Mae says with a leer. “How’s business, doll? Things picking up?”
Edith holds open the screen door and follows Mae into the barroom. “Pretty much the same. Some nights busier than others. I keep trying to think of ways to bring in customers but, so far, all I do is create opposition in town.
“Mae, let me officially introduce Darwin McKenzie. He’s helping out for a bit. I don’t know if I mentioned it before, but Darwin is Henry Mercer’s cousin. Henry and Mickey worked together.”
“I remember Henry. Darwin, it’s a pleasure. I left a few things up in the car. Can I get you and Leroy to go bring them in for me?”
“How long are you able to stay? For supper?” Edith asks.
“I’d like to stay a couple of days, if it’s all right with you. I’m having a bunch of work done at the house and thought I’d escape for a bit. I was going to check into a hotel in Miami, but then thought of you. It’s been ages since we’ve been able to really spend some time together. But look it, doll, I don’t want to impose. I’ve made arrangements for a room at the Peacock Inn.”
“Nonsense. You must stay here. You can have my bed. I’ll get Leroy to put a cot for me in the corner. We can bunk in together in my room.”
“Sweetie, that sounds like a lot of trouble.”
“I’d love the company. Please say you’ll stay?”
“Where do you want these?” Darwin asks, as he and Leroy struggle to carry all her suitcases up the path to the veranda.
“Goodness, Mae. Look at all that luggage. How long are you staying for? Not that I’m not glad to have you stay as long as you can,” Edith says.
Mae smiles “I come bearing gifts, and it was just easier to pack them this way.” She pops open one suitcase full of bottles of Gilbey’s gin, a small bottle of vermouth, and six jars of green olives. “It’s our survival kit, doll.”
Edith claps her hands, delighted. “We were out to Reggie’s ship a few nights ago and picked up some Gordon’s, but you can never have too much gin.”
It’s not long before beads of condensation drip down the sides of the martini shaker as the gals relax on the veranda. The sun is a fireball dropping into the ocean. Edith sighs contentedly.
“I read somewhere that martinis should always be stirred not shaken so the molecules can lie sensuously on top of one another. Isn’t that the best?” Edith says, rolling a luxurious olive around in her mouth, enjoying the salty tang.
“It must be why these darn things taste so good. You should try mixing up gimlets with the gin. Florida limes are as delish in gin as they are in pie.”
“That sounds like those gin rickeys you were drinking at Cap’s.”
“
Albert makes the best gin rickeys,” Mae says, sipping her martini. “I do love that man.”
“Have you tried a dirty martini? It’s what I do if I haven’t got premium stock. You pour a splash of the juice from the olive jar in with the gin.” Edith grins. “Unbelievably good.”
“You know, there are advantages having a friend that’s a bartender.” Edith and Mae clink glasses.
“I swear the sun hisses when it hits the water.” The sky is purple and indigo. The egrets fly into their treetop nests.
“I can definitely see the appeal. Tell me, what’s the deal on Darwin? You and he an item?”
“Mae, you sound like Anna. But since you asked, Darwin and I are definitely not an item. You wouldn’t believe how bossy and stubborn he is. Impossible, really. He’s different than Henry. So stubborn.”
“Really? I believe that. Oh, you said Darwin—I thought you were talking about yourself.”
Ha. I know Henry meant well, but I’m not sure this is going to be a long-term solution.”
“Until you get this pirate-thing fixed, nothing’s going to be long term, doll.” Mae eyes the gun and holster Edith is wearing. “Have you had a chance to think further on what we were talking about the last visit I was here? I’ve made a few phone calls and there are people quite happy to help out Mickey Duffy’s widow.”
“Exactly what I don’t want. I never needed to rely on Mickey or Mickey’s name to fight my battles, and I’m not going to start now.”
“Mickey was always pretty good in a scrap. You could do worse if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I was leaning in that direction, but backed away from it. Self-defense is one thing—a shotgun at home, and a small handgun to travel for protection, but using them to settle this Wharf Rats business would be a mistake. I learned my lesson about that when Mickey died. But I do have a plan. It involves a little break and enter and the Coast Guard.”
“Oohh, I am intrigued. Tell me more.”
“Soon. I’m just working out a few more details. But if it works, the Wharf Rats will be out of my hair for quite some time.”
Gathering Storm Page 30
