Raised By Wolves 1 - Brethren (58 page)

“Tell me,” Theodore commanded.

I sighed and made introductions all around, and launched into an unembellished account lacking in all personal detail. Theodore seemed satisfied with this, and I invited him to the Three Tunns for the better telling. In the meantime, I told him we had been hoping for a place to sleep. He said he knew of a house being let nearby and we could address that on the morrow. For today and tonight, we were welcome to any space he had, though he would not have any beds or hammocks for us. Tom and the boys offered up their hammocks in the guest room if we wished to catch some sleep prior to the night. We accepted their gracious offer quite heartily, and went upstairs to sleep somewhere comfortable.

There were, of course, six of us – and only three hammocks.

Thankfully they were well attached to the posts, as Striker and Pete immediately jumped into one, and Davey and Julio followed suit with another. Reluctantly, but with fake good cheer, I crawled into the third with Gaston; and we positioned ourselves back to back, as we had often slept on the flyboat this last week. He seemed completely unconcerned by this.

We woke after dusk, and made our way to the Three Tunns.

Everyone at Theodore’s went, with the exception of Samuel. The tavern was filled to overflowing, and we were allowed inside only because we were the ones with the tale to tell. Cudro and the other men were already there; and I was surprised the Dutchman had not attempted to steal the glory, as that would fit very well with his way of doing things.

Then I took a good look at his still-bruised face, and realized he did not want to call attention to himself at this juncture. Someone might have asked what bull ran him down.

Henry Morgan was there, and he made a show of inviting us to his table in the center of the room. We joined him, but it was obvious there would not be room for the ten of us. This did not prove to be a problem, however, as every eye in the place was upon us; and many of our party were not sure what to make of it all, and did not wish to remain so visible. However, Striker and Pete were immensely pleased with the attention, and took center stage in a space cleared next to the table.

Gaston and I sat with Morgan and the other captains, which is not what I would have planned, but it seemed safe at the moment. The rest of our party shoved themselves into the crowd in a less conspicuous fashion.

Somewhere in Striker’s lineage of sea-roving wolves, there must have been a bard or two: he had quite a gift for storytelling, and was delighted to have so large a crowd. With Pete’s occasional commentary, he made a great show of relating the taking of the flute, the finding of the naughty books, the taking of the galleon, the storm, the wreck, and the raid of the town where we stole the boats. He left out things I would rather no one knew, such as Gaston’s madness and the fight with Cudro. I saw the Dutchman look as relieved as I, when Striker passed over his involvement and simply said that some of the men had been of a different opinion on certain matters.

Morgan kept the beer flowing at our table, and seemed quite jolly; but I noted he watched the crowd’s reaction to salient points as much as I did. When Striker finished, the questions began.

“So you took a man o’ war with fifty men?” Morgan asked.

“Fourth-rate with a piss-poor crew,” Striker said. “And we took her with six men on board, musketeers on the sloop, and a great many grenadoes.”

“Impressive,” Morgan said sincerely. “Which six men?”

Striker named us and pointed to each in turn. Morgan seemed surprised when it came to me. I did not think it was because he knew me by my title alone, but because he assumed much about me due to the title. I smiled at him with great amusement. He called for a toast to our bravery, and I was forced to elbow Gaston before he rolled his eyes.

“Can you name the dead?” a man asked.

Striker named every man that had died; and there was a moment of silence to honor them, and then another toast to all we had known who had passed on.

“And you know not of the North Wind?” a captain at our table asked.

“Nay, we were surprised she did not meet us here.”

There was a toast to her well-being and speedy return.

“And how much gold did you lose?”

“Still aboard the galleon? At least three thousand doubloons, probably more.”

Beer was spit, and there was a collective groan.

“Ya Drink To That And I’llPuke,” Pete said.

This brought a great round of laughter.

There were a few more questions; and then the general party began, and Striker and Pete sat with us.

“So now what will you do?” Morgan asked as he poured Striker a mug.

“I do not know,” Striker said. “I think we will wait a while to see if the North Wind shows.”

“And if she does not?”

Striker frowned and shrugged. “I have considered purchasing a ship.”

Morgan nodded thoughtfully. “I was hoping that would be your intent. We could use men like you and your fine companions here. As you may know, Bradley has been a friend of mine for many a year, and I value him greatly. I hope with all my heart that he will return to us safely, as I would miss him dearly if he does not. On a more practical note, I will miss his ship and expertise for our coming plans.”

“Bradley said you plan to take a fleet against the Main,” Striker said.

“Aye, I believe it is the best way to insure the safety of this colony; and the Governor agrees with me. It will also bring added prosperity here, just as Mansfield’s and Myng’s raiding did. And it’s a better use of ships and men than chasing solitary vessels or fleets around the sea.”

“We sailed with both,” Striker said. “And I concur.”

“I thought as much,” Morgan replied. “It is my intent to call together a fleet in the cays of Cuba this winter, and once provisioned decide upon a target. Now that the war with the French has passed, I will be inviting those of them who are willing to sail with us as well.”

A truce with the French was news to us, and Gaston and I exchanged a look.

“So, my good Striker,” Morgan continued, “would you be willing to join us if you had a vessel? We could use you.”

“Aye, I think I would, but first I could use a suitable vessel. Would you happen to know of any?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Morgan smiled. “But if one were to become available, would you be able to purchase and equip it?”

Striker hesitated for a brief moment and then nodded resolutely. “I could.”

“I see. So you are not a buccaneer who spends all of his money on wine and women,” Morgan said.

“Nay,” Pete said with annoyance. Striker smirked.

Morgan gave a small, apologetic shrug. “Of course.”

I remembered that Morgan was married, and I had to stifle a smile. I wondered what Morgan had thought of matelotage prior to marriage.

As if Pete’s solid rebuttal had diverted the course of his mind, Morgan turned his attention to Gaston and me. He regarded us with a small frown over the rim of his mug. I wondered what he saw; and then realized I had been drinking more than I assumed, as there was something to see. I was sitting, as was my custom in taverns filled with armed men, with my right leg crossed over my left, ankle to knee, my beer in my left hand and my right hand lying across my lap near the pommels of my pistol and sword. Gaston was to my left and sitting forward with his left elbow on the table, beer in hand, and his right arm draped across my shoulders. I had scarce noticed this, as it had felt as natural as my own limbs being where they should be. Morgan had noted it, though, and he was studying Gaston with interest. My matelot did not flinch from his gaze; and, as he was wearing his mask again, I knew Morgan saw little he could read in the smoky lantern light.

Morgan smiled and regarded his empty mug. “Lord Marsdale…”

“Will,” I corrected sweetly.

“Will.” He shrugged. “ I would not have thought you to be one to become mired in the local customs so soon.”

“Mired, hmmm?” I grinned and glanced at Gaston. “Oh, I am good and stuck, all right. I rather enjoy it.”

This brought appreciative chuckles from the other men at the table.

Gaston had grown very still, and I wondered if he had realized what he was doing. Neither of us could move now, not and keep up appearances.

“So I see you will not be pursuing our eligible young women,”

Morgan said slyly.

“Nay, I fear not. From what I witnessed at the last party I attended, they are not in need of an additional suitor any more than I am in need of a wife.”

“Truly? One cannot rove forever. It is a young man’s sport. What then?”

“I suppose one of us will learn how to order servants about, or cook.”

This brought even more laughter, and to my surprise, Gaston even relaxed a little.

“What of progeny?”

“In all seriousness, Morgan, if I am to marry as a matter of my title, then it will be in England and to someone chosen by my family, expressly for the purpose of producing suitable offspring.”

“Ah, aye, I had forgotten your father holds title as well,” he said.

His forgetting was absurd, but I let it pass.

“And you are the oldest son, are you not?”

“I am indeed.”

“And yet you are here.”

“I possess an adventurous spirit.”

“So we have noted. I would imagine it would behoove your father to have another heir in place, would it not, considering your current avocation?”

“Aye, it would.” And I was quite sure my father did, as he had not been sure he had an heir for many a year.

“And what of you?” Morgan asked Striker. I found it of interest that he did not ask this of Pete and Gaston.

“I’ve got Pete. As for children, anything that issues from one of us should probably be drowned at birth, no matter who the dam is.”

Even Gaston chuckled with the rest of us at that. I laughed, though I did not concur in the least. I felt the world needed more Petes and Strikers and fewer Morgans. This was never the way of things, though.

No matter where I went in the world, the people most likely to produce offspring were the ones I felt should do it the least.

“Have you been blessed with progeny?” I asked Morgan.

His eyes flicked away for a moment before he smiled. “Nay, we have not been so blessed.”

I decided not to pursue this, out of respect for his wife.

Striker stood. “If you will excuse us, I should buy my men a round.

Thank you for the beer, and I’m sure you will hear when I find a ship.”

Morgan nodded. “I will tell you if I hear of one first. Where might I find you?”

Striker sighed and looked to me, and we both shrugged.

“You should be able to locate us through Jonathan Theodore,” I said.I lolled my head back upon Gaston’s arm, and looked to him with a grin. “We should escape with them,” I whispered in French. My position had put our heads very close together, mere inches apart. I saw him start at our proximity.

He kissed me, the lightest press upon my lips.

Then he was standing, and I had the choice of sitting there like a stunned ewe or standing with him. I stood and finished my beer. I managed to thank Morgan for it and its fellows; and then I found my feet weaving through the crowd, following Gaston to the side of the room with our companions. Then we were in the midst of them, and there was much talking, and he would not look at me. He appeared distraught.

I was sure I appeared the same. I knew this to be true when Theodore asked me what was amiss.

“Nothing that need concern you,” I said quietly and kindly. “I would not choose to explain, even if I could.”

“So be it,” he shrugged. “When will you be visiting your Ithaca?”

For a small moment I did not know what he spoke of. “My father’s Ithaca. Soon. How are they?”

“They are well…” He chuckled. “I will allow Fletcher and Donoughy the pleasure of regaling you with their triumphs and failures.”

“Thank you. I will go there as soon as we resolve the issue of living quarters.”

“We will see to that first thing in the morning,” Theodore said.

Tom was standing behind him, and appeared ready to speak.

Theodore graciously stepped aside.

“I will have you know I am not dissuaded,” Tom said.

“You are a fool,” I said lightly. “Striker managed to omit a number of pertinent details.”

“Such as?”

“Eating nothing but salted or smoked pork and fruit for weeks on end. Sleeping on deck in the rain.” He was smiling at me, and I remembered my amusement several months ago at Morgan’s suggestion I was not hardy enough to be a buccaneer. I sighed. “You have to kill people.”

A furrow creased his brow for a moment, and then his eyes flashed with defiance once again. “I feel I am capable of that.”

I knew he understood there was a difference between feeling and knowing; and on that note, there was little else I could say.

“We will not sail until Striker locates a ship.”

Before he could reply, one of the men dancing in the center of the room wheeled into Pete and knocked his beer from his hand. Pete roared his disapproval, and the man yelled, “Sorry mate, it’s a party!”

Pete picked the man up by collar and belt and threw him onto a table. “Now It’sAParty!”

The men at the table roared and came after Pete and proved him correct, as the amusement truly began. I turned to face the majority of the room and made ready to duck anything thrown my way.

Theodore and Tom were still standing beside me, with Dickey and Belfry behind them looking rather alarmed.

“I would leave now, but…” Theodore said.

I could see his cause for concern. All of the action was between us and the door. “I am sure if you inquired politely, Pete would be happy to throw you out the window,” I shouted to be heard over the noise.

“I will pass, thank you,” Theodore shouted and ducked a hurled mug.

“Perhaps the back,” Tom said.

I glared at him. “I thought you wished to be a buccaneer.” Before he could protest, I grinned and punched him in the jaw. He fell back in a heap, taking Dickey with him.

There was a tug on my tunic and I whirled to find Gaston on the table. He pointed at the window and I joined him quickly. Theodore scrambled up behind me as Gaston opened the sash. We crawled out into the alley. To my surprise, we were followed by Cudro, who had been at the table we stood upon.