Raised By Wolves 1 - Brethren (23 page)

And I cannot see loving a nation over one’s fellow man. Truly, if I have to read ancient Greeks, I far prefer Homer.”

“Do you prefer mythology over philosophy?”

“Only in the reading of it. I prefer the exercise of reason over superstition.”

He smiled, and then sobered and looked me over again. “Do you wish to become a flibustier?”

At my confusion, he smirked and rolled his eyes.

“You English, you call every man who sails under the Jolie Rouge a boucanier. I know of few men in this port who ever hunted on the Haiti and made boucan. On Île de la Tortue, we call the ones who rove flibustiers and the ones who hunt boucaniers. Most men do both, at least they used to. Not so many boucaniers anymore.”

I turned it over in my mind a couple of times, until I realized that flibustiers was the French pronunciation of freebooters. “I can see where a distinction could be made about such a thing.” Some vague thought stirred and slowly made itself known. “Are we not at war?”

His body tightened and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You have done nothing to anger me… yet.”

I smiled affably. “I should hope not. I meant our nations.”

“I have no nation,” he said with a trace of amusement.

“Forget I said anything.”

He smirked again. “You will learn wars only cross the Line when there is gold involved. The same is true of peace. I have been sailing on a French ship under a marque from your governor. Yet if he could muster the men and ships, he would retake Île de la Tortue from the French.”

“But all he has of a military force are the buccaneers, excuse me, freebooters, and I take it they are not in agreement with that.”

“It serves the interests of all to play one against the other as necessary. A year ago your Governor Modyford was seizing prizes. So everyone went to Île de la Tortue and Port Royal lost all of the booty.

Now he is issuing marques to any who want one, especially the French.”

I grinned. “I truly adore public servants. They are always so…

predictable.”

“So you think you will become a flibustier?”

“Possibly. I met a Captain Bradley two days ago, and he said he could possibly use a man who spoke Castilian and had a fondness for steel. He is planning on sailing, soon, though; and I am not sure if the affairs I came here to handle can be left alone as of yet, though my father’s agent would have me sail.”

“Why?”

“He feels I will be a detriment to the endeavor.” I smiled.

“And why is that?”

“I do not have it in me to callously enslave men, and I care little for farming.”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Do you have it in you to kill men?”

“Oui, with great celerity and regularity as the need presents itself.” I shrugged.

He smiled. “So you would rather kill them than own them?”

“Quite possibly, oui.”

“And you have a fondness for steel?” His eyes flicked to my blade.

I smiled. “We have more than a passing acquaintance, as it has both saved my life and attempted to relieve me of it on many an occasion.”

“We should spar. When you are sober.”

I grinned. “I am sure I would enjoy that immensely.”

His eyes flicked over me critically. “If you are going roving, you will need a musket.”

“I have two at my disposal.”

“Lighter attire.”

“I plan to remedy that.”

“And earrings.”

“Why? I am truly curious,” I chuckled.

He shrugged. “I do not know where the tradition started, but they make it easy to spy another fliebustier in the smoke of battle.”

“That is useful to know. I will consider it. May I ask a question? Why do you paint your eyes so?”

“The Carribe. One of the Indian nations that lived here used to paint their faces thus. The Carribe ate people. The Spaniards were terrified of them. Several of my party did this when we attacked Saint Jago on Hispaniola. It bothers the Spaniards.” He shrugged and smiled thinly.

“It bothers the English. And the French. Everyone really.”

I chuckled again. “How long have you been in the West Indies?”

“Ten years.”

If he was truly of an age with me as I surmised, that meant he came here at about the same time I left England the first time. But whereas I had spent the years wandering the known world, he had made his home in this wilderness. “Why did you come here, to seek adventure or fortune?”

He frowned briefly, and I felt him withdraw from me even though he moved not an inch. “My father bade me to,” he said quietly, and abruptly turned to leave.

I felt an immediate sense of loss and fought the urge to follow him.

Instead I called out, “Where shall I see you again?”

He paused and turned to regard me. “We will meet again.”

Then he left, and I stood alone on a dusty street, with a book and bottle in my hand. There was hope in my heart, though. I had met an educated man who I thought I had much in common with. I returned to Theodore’s with a smile on my face.

“You look pleased with yourself,” Theodore commented as I entered.

I decided against mentioning my meeting and told him of the book and the rum concoction and reading in the shade. Theodore shook his head as if he had already consigned me to a life of piracy and drunken debauch. He sent me upstairs to dress for the party.

As I donned clothing I did not wish to wear ever again, I thought of Gaston the Ghoul. In a few brief minutes he had become my savior.

I stuffed my head into a wig and my feet into hose and shoes, and realized I was quite smitten with him; and here I thought I had long outgrown schoolboy infatuations. I vowed to approach him with all the sophistication and nonchalance I possessed. And not to play the eager puppy begging for a bone of kindness, as I was always so wont to do on the rare occasions I found a person I wished to know.

My pleasant thoughts of my meeting dissipated as I finished dressing. By the time I joined Theodore in his office I was steeped in the misery known by the common name of sweat. Theodore pronounced me pleasing to the eye, and my innards knotted and clutched at my lower spine. I assumed that, since the gentry here sought to imitate all things English, there would be some unfortunate servant stationed near the latrine to hold my coat while I shat. Needless to say, my mood was as foul as my imagination.

“Hmmm, it looks as if it may rain,” Theodore commented as we walked to the King’s House.

“Will it bring cooler temperatures?”

“Sometimes. Primarily it will turn the streets to sandy mud filled with filth,” he said. “Be thankful you will not experience the full glory of the rainy season until late summer.”

Upon witnessing the expression on my face, he laughed uproariously; and I silently vowed that when it rained, I would trip him on the walk home.

And then we arrived. But for the heat and foliage, it would have been difficult to tell this party from a similar function at my father’s manor.

The ladies were quite lovely in the finest gowns, and the men were well-dressed in the latest styles. The servants were in sharp livery and circulated with silver trays proffering refreshments. The decoration was tasteful, if perhaps a little musty. All in all, it looked like many a fête I had attended over the years.

I drank wine and Theodore introduced me about, and I smiled and nodded and said witty things, or at least they laughed politely. My snide remarks about the climate were always well-received, though they said that one grew accustomed to it in time. I realized this might be true, as I seemed to be perspiring far more than the people I was speaking with.

I met Governor Thomas Modyford, who seemed a witty man himself.

He looked me over with a delighted smile but a shrewd eye. I smiled in return, and decided he was a man one did not give ground to, lest one lose his respect.

After the introductions were made, Theodore said, “Lord Marsdale is delighted with that acreage near yours, and we have taken the liberty of sending his bondsmen there.”

“The one with the hill? Oh, wonderful,” Modyford said. “I will have my man draw up the papers tomorrow. My Lord, have you given any thought to where else you may want land?”

“Not as of yet.” I shrugged. “I feel I will need to take some time to make that determination, as I am not familiar with the island. I hope the delay will not prove to be troublesome.”

“Not at all, my Lord. I can make suggestions, as I am sure Theodore can. But it would be best for you to take your time and perhaps even venture about.”

“I will do that.”

Theodore surprised me. “Lord Marsdale wishes to go roving. So I imagine he will not see to it until he returns.”

To my amazement this did not seem to surprise Modyford at all.

“Truly, my Lord? On what ship?”

“I have been invited to sail on the North Wind.” I wondered what ship Gaston sailed on.

“Good, good, my Lord. Bradley is a fine captain, I am told. Of course, I have never sailed with him.” He guffawed at his own joke. Then he stepped closer to whisper, “Roving with the buccaneers may not be to your liking, though.”

“How so?”

“Well, sir, they are a rough lot, and may trouble a man of your breeding,” he said with sincere concern.

I shrugged. “I have traveled before.”

“As a man of wealth or poverty, my Lord?”

I understood the point he wished to make, and I did not wish to give it to him, though he was correct to assume I had always journeyed as a moneyed man in some fashion. “Both. Sometimes it behooves a Lord’s son not to be known as one.”

“Ah, very good then, my Lord. You may do well. I wish you the best of fortune. The rest of the land can be settled when you return.”

Another man approached and Modyford beamed a smile at him. “Ah, Morgan. This is the Viscount of Marsdale. Lord Marsdale, this is Henry Morgan, the admiral of our buccaneers.”

I fought frowning at that. The only credence I could give to this statement was the man’s earrings and his overall mien, which was predatory and wary despite the fine clothes and proper young bride at his side. He looked me over, and I knew he thought me weak, much as Bradley had initially done. I chose to ignore it for the time being.

I wondered how one became the admiral of the buccaneers, and whether or not the buccaneers were aware of this. He was not much older than I, and I wondered a good many things about him, but he did not seem inclined to talk in my presence; and so Theodore and I graciously excused ourselves to mingle with other guests.

My official duty for the plantation done, Theodore abandoned me to speak to his other clients. I thought this wise, as I wished to berate him somewhat over his announcement to Modyford. Left alone, I stood and looked about.

Upon arriving, I had been surprised at the number of women present. Though the men still outnumbered them two to one, I had not even expected that many. Apparently the proof of money and power on Jamaica was the possession of a wife. The few single daughters of marriageable age were in demand, and I did not even attempt to force my way through the knots of men surrounding them to get a glimpse.

So it was with real amazement that I spied Bradley and Siegfried exiting one of these clusters of courtship.

In truth, I almost did not recognize them, as they were as formally dressed as I. The earrings gave them away, though; and I had to chuckle, as I had discovered another battlefield where gold at the ears could allow buccaneers to recognize one another. Of course I did not have a set yet, so they almost failed to recognize me.

Bradley grinned when he did realize my identity. “I expected you here.”

Siegfried shook his head and smiled. “It is in his honor, you fool.”

Bradley shrugged and grinned. “All the more reason to expect him.”

“That makes one of us,” I said. “I was dismayed when I learned of it yesterday.”

“You don’t like parties?” Siegfried teased.

I thought about that for a moment. “Nay, sir, I do not. I have had my fill of them. In truth they have come to represent work and not play for me.”They regarded me curiously.

“How so?” Bradley asked.

I sighed and shrugged. “There have been periods of my life when I could be considered a duelist by vocation.”

“Ahhh,” Siegfried said. “So you are quite good with a blade.”

“Aye,” I grinned. “Good enough to live this long.”

“Have you given any more thought to joining us?” Bradley asked.

“A great deal,” I said. “You said you would be sailing soon?”

“In two days.”

“That soon,” I sighed, thankful I would have a good excuse as a result. I could not see where everything could be settled to my satisfaction, even if I wished to rove by then. And there was also the issue of Gaston. I shook my head at my own stupidity. One chance encounter and I was going to make decisions based upon him. I was pathetically lonely.

“I will have to see where my affairs are by then,” I said with a regretful tone. “And my health. I seem to have a touch of the flux.”

“It’ll either pass or you’ll die,” Bradley said with a shrug.

I laughed. “Easy for you to say, I see.”

“I’m just saying it should not be an impediment to your decision.

When we first leave port, we need to provision; and then we’ll need to careen. By the time we actually start looking for the Spanish, you’ll either be well or over the side.” He clapped my shoulder with amusement.

“Ahh, I see your argument clearly. Now if you will just explain it to yon Theodore.”

To my delight, Tom joined us. I made introductions and looked him over critically. Dressed as a gentleman of quality, he was exceedingly handsome in a boyish way. Yet there seemed to be something lacking in his presence, actually two somethings. “Where are Dickey and Harry?”

“Harry has fallen quite ill and Dickey is tending him,” Tom said sadly.

“Truly? With what, pray tell?” I asked.

“The flux.”

I looked at Bradley who started laughing.

“I was just complaining of having a touch of that myself,” I quickly told Tom, in order to smooth the frown he was giving Bradley. “How ill is he?”“Grievously, I am sorry to say. The physician has bled him twice already. He says there is hope, though, and he has recommended a treatment of brandied oats and no drink of any kind, in order to reduce the level of… well you know, liquidity of the stool.”