Raised By Wolves 1 - Brethren (66 page)

His laughter followed me out the door. Thankfully, he did send Samuel for a cart; and soon we were off to the ferry wharf, with the incongruous cargo of a body and a medicine chest. To my annoyance, we actually had to pay passage for the corpse. And, of course, the livery boy was happy to rent us a mule for the deceased. The only thing I was pleased about in the matter was that the boy had kept the bay and the the sorrel set aside for us, as instructed. Even this small happiness was impinged upon, as with the mule we were not able to travel faster than a peaceful walk, though I had wished to further improve upon Gaston’s horsemanship. And then the thick clouds opened upon us, and we were drenched in mere minutes. Gaston was greatly amused by my swearing.

It was late evening when at last we reached Ithaca. The men were already at the barracks due to the rain, which had not yet relented.

Though the chest was built for use at sea, Gaston had been ill-pleased with its exposure to rain for the last several leagues. He quickly dismounted; and I joined him and held the mule, while he removed that part of its burden and took it into the barracks shed.

Fletcher hurried out.

“What is this?” he called as he approached the mule.

“Not my intent,” I said quickly. I was aware of all the eyes upon us; but thankfully Fletcher, and Donoughy behind him, were the only ones I had to face.

“I believe he would have returned, but one of his compatriots was…

There was an altercation and…”

Fletcher uncovered the body’s head, and saw both its identity and my handiwork.

“You shot him?” he cried.

Other men began to spill from the shelter.

“I did not intend to. Another man he was with was also escaped; and he and several others caused a bit of confusion, the end result of which is that I shot Creek.”

“How could you?” Fletcher appeared sincerely horrified; and staring into his eyes, I was mortified.

“I had a pistol aimed at him because one of his fellows waved a cutlass at me; and then this other fellow pushed people about in an effort to distract us and… I fired, Fletcher. And since I have rarely been called upon to fire in a situation where I need only wound a man, I aimed so as to give him a mortal wound. It is… a skill I possess.”

All was silent except for the rain. Fletcher regarded me with wounded eyes, and I could see little else. And then I could not stop speaking. I was compelled to explain, somehow.

“I kill men for my livelihood, Fletcher. It is what I do. Even before coming here. Truly, I did not wish poor Creek any ill; it was just that the circumstances were such that… this occurred.”

“You have made mention of that… my Lord,” he said sadly. “And light of it. I thought you jested.”

“I do make light of it, Fletcher. Because… it is a heavy burden, and I do not believe even God can relieve me of it.”

“You will burn in Hell,” he said sadly and with great resignation. He took the lead rope and led the mule away.

I did not fear the fires of Hell; his condemnation was painful enough. I was afraid to meet the rest of the eyes I felt upon me. The rain had turned cold, and that stirred old memories as well. I considered mounting the sorrel and riding until there was no light.

“He were always a right idiot,” someone said. I looked toward the speaker, and found Grisholm shrugging. “Had a thing for the drink, he did. Said there weren’t enough of it here to suit him.”

“I did not intend to shoot him,” I said. “I merely went to bring him back.”

He shrugged. “And rightly so, my Lord.”

Beyond him, I saw others nodding. I hazarded a look at other eyes. I found fear in some, and sadness in others, but very little recrimination.

Everyone began to return to the barracks. Someone had taken the horses to the shed. I thought it might have been Gaston, but then I saw him, a shadow to my left, just as he had been when we faced Creek and his friends. I found warmth in that.

Donoughy did not go with the others. I met his gaze.

“You have seen to the problem, my Lord,” he said with no amusement.

“Aye.”

“My Lord, how many men have you killed?” I saw no condemnation about him, only curiosity and a bit of wariness. It seemed I had earned his respect.

“Well, with the roving this last month, I would imagine close to thirty.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Yet you won’t see a man flogged?”

“Aye,” I said resolutely. I knew I could not explain it to him. I did not understand it myself.

He returned to the barracks, and I stood there until Gaston led me out of the rain. I took great comfort in his merely holding me throughout the night.

The next three days, we spent the mornings learning a great deal about clearing land. I was determined that they have some form of garden plot; and so I inquired of Donoughy where I might put one. He thought me quite the fool, but suggested a likely location; and Gaston and I set to work.

Gaston insisted we stop during the heat of the day; and so we would nap for a time, and then go riding in the evenings as the clouds rolled in. My matelot refused to allow me to go riding alone, as he said it was unsafe. I was not sure who it was unsafe for, others I might meet or myself; but I let him go with me, on the condition he ride bareback. By the third evening, he and the bay were getting along quite well, and he had not fallen once. He named the animal Francis, as in Saint Francis.

I was amused. I named the demonic sorrel, who had in truth become quite tractable after getting to know me, Diablo.

My matelot also treated the ailing men with some tincture of tree bark he called quinine. One began to mend, but the other was too ill for any good to come of a remedy, and he died. Gaston was saddened by this, though he had predicted it would happen to both. Thankfully he was not prone to melancholy, and could take some pleasure in the other man’s survival and not be blinded by the loss, as I surely would have been.

As it was, I was still smarting from Fletcher’s condemnation. He would speak to me and I to him, but there was now a wall between us that I did not know how to breach. As for the other men, they initially scoffed at our clearing ability when they heard of it; but after seeing our excellent progress the second day, they urged us to join them on the main field. We declined. Gaston said they might be resentful when we stopped at midday to nap and ride. I agreed.

We only engaged in one other tryst after the lanterns were out, due to my being sore from the unaccustomed labor and him from the riding.

So only on the fourth night, when we felt better, did we amuse ourselves again with much mutual groping.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, a horseman appeared as we prepared for our ride. Other than Pleasant and the ailing men, we were the only ones in camp; and we watched the man approach with interest, as he appeared to be a boy and he was riding hard. He pulled up and regarded us with a frown, his eyes casting about for others.

“Excuse me, good sirs, I’m seeking a Lord Marsdale.”

“That would be I.”

He seemed relieved. “Very good, sir, Mister Theodore sent me, sir. He wishes you to know that the crew of the North Wind has arrived in Port Royal.”

“The crew? What about the ship?” Gaston asked.

We packed and departed, only pausing at the field long enough to tell them we were off and not sure when we would return. Fletcher was out cutting timber with Grisholm, and I was not able to say goodbye. I did not allow myself to dwell on it.

We rode hard, as Gaston was now able to ride at a gallop with ease.

Our journey was accompanied by intermittent rain, so we were quite soaked. Despite this, we slowed a mile or so from the Passage Fort and walked the last bit to cool our mounts.

“I have never owned a horse,” Gaston said. “Since we will often be returning here, or need to ride to Spanish Town on occasion when in port, would it be prudent to own horses?”

He was being oblique, yet I guessed his motivation as he patted Francis’ steaming shoulder. “Perhaps. Though how often do you expect us to be in port?”

He sighed. “Does Theodore own a horse?”

“Nay, he rents one as needed. Though I suppose if one were available to him here, he might prefer to avail himself of it.”

“I do not wish to think of Francis or Diablo being ridden by fat planters.”

I stifled my amusement. I had long since noted that all men my matelot disliked in theory were labeled as fat.

“Neither do I. Should we purchase them and save them from that fate? I’m sure monthly arrangements can be made with the livery to board them. It is my impression many fat planters do the same.”

“You think me foolish?”

“Not for this,” I teased and then said seriously, “You know I have gone to great lengths and suffered much anguish for my love of the damn beasts.”

“True,” he smiled. “So we will own horses, and we will allow Theodore and those we like to use them if we are not about.”

“I think that a fine idea.”

So we haggled over horses and boarding fees for a time with the livery owner, until all were satisfied. Gaston was carrying enough coin to pay the man for both the horses and their boarding in advance for a year. After a bit of grumbling by the owner, on account of the extra effort, as he did not write, we obtained a receipt. The sun had well set when we caught a ferry to Port Royal.

We stopped at Theodore’s and found only Samuel. He told us they were at the Three Tunns. We were able to make our way inside the tavern, despite it being packed to the ceiling beams with buccaneers.

Striker and Pete were at a table with Bradley and Morgan. I was only able to spy a glimpse of them because I stood on a table to do so. Men were standing four deep all around to listen to them. I doubted we could easily shoulder our way in.

Then we spied the Bard, Liam, Otter, Cleghorn, and Michaels at another table. We were able to reach them. Davey and Julio were with them. Theodore, Tom, Dickey, Belfry and Cudro were at the next table over. All looked happy to see us, and though drunk, the men who had been on the North Wind jumped to their feet to embrace us.

“What happened to you?” I asked the Bard and Liam as we all sat again. Space was crowded, and the chairs short in number, so Gaston shared the seat with me – which suited both of us. Liam and Otter were similarly doubled up.

All of them appeared to be bandaged in one place or another. Liam had a rag around his head, and it looked as if his nose had been broken yet again. Otter’s arm was wrapped, and so was his leg. Cleghorn was bandaged about the chest. The Bard’s right arm was in a sling, and there was blood on the bandage on his shoulder.

The Bard was laughing quietly in response to my question. After giving him an expectant look, Liam shrugged and started telling the tale.

“The storm blew us north and east. We took on water an’ sank, even with heavin’ the cannon ov’r the side. We thought o’ heavin’ the gold as well, but it would na’ ’ave done a bit a’ good. Those that could got on the longboat, an’ the rest on pieces o’ the deck, an’ we lashed ’em together.

We did na’ bring much with us in the way of muskets, victuals, or the like, as we were more concerned with drownin’ and there were much confusion.

“After the storm, we drifted with the current for a spell o’ days. We knew we passed north o’ Havana, and we were right worried this would bring trouble. We finally found ourselves a cay by the sheer grace o’

God. O’ course God, in his infinite wisdom, ’ad a little more humor about Him than we would ’ave liked. It were a good cay ta maroon a man on, as it was but sand an’ there be nothin’ on it at all. We had few weapons, wet powder, an’ hungry men, and we ’ad already lost three souls o’ the twenty-three the ship sank with. We sat there for four days eatin’ fish.

“Whilst we were discussin’ the matter, we raised a sail; an’ we were joyous for a time, though we could na’ see ’er colors for the longest time, and ’ere we be sittin’ like turtles on a beach. We laid low and readied the longboat. As luck and God would ’ave it, the ship spied us and came round ta take a look. As bad luck would have it, she were Spanish, and she saw we were right easy prey.

“They aimed cannon at us, an’ commanded we come ta them in the longboat. In our favor, the Spaniard were a merchantman an’ had no soldiers. But, they be smugglers goin’ ta trade on Hispaniola, so they be well-manned an’ armed for merchants. It was dusk though, an’ most o’

our men were lyin’ behind a dune. So the captain thought they might na’ know our real number.

“’E came up with a right smart plan, and we rowed out with the longboat under their cannon, with the ten men who could swim hangin’

off her backside where the Spaniards could na’ see ’em in the bad light an’ waves. Those men swam below water a bit when they neared the ship, an’ worked their way ’round ’er and came up on the other side.

Those that came aboard from the longboat had no weapons, as the Spanish commanded they be left below in the boat. The ones climbin’ up

’er far side ’ad only knives. We fought like madmen. When all was done, we knew God ’ad sent angels ta watch o’er us, ’cause eight of ours were dead, and most of us wounded, but we had a new ship.”

“Eight men?” I asked. Based on what he had related, that would leave the survivors from the North Wind at twelve. We had only returned with thirteen. Hastings had, of course, returned with eleven including himself. The North Wind had sailed two months before with sixty-six, and only thirty-six had returned.

There were somber nods from everyone present. They named them off, and I recognized many; but only one made me wince. Siegfried was among the dead.

Cleghorn shook his head. “He couldn’t swim. Bradley could, so he led the men who came up the back, and Siegfried did all the talking for us who surrendered to the Spanish. They started clapping us in irons, Siegfried first since he was leading us. When the Spanish captain realized something was amiss, he shot Siegfried where he stood. With a shot to the head from that range, there wasn’t anything I could do for him, and I am sure he was dead before he fell.”

“Aye, poor Siegfried ’ad the worst luck o’ all,” Liam said. “The rest o’ us were blessed, in that the Spaniards could na’ aim well at all. They fired once into the men standin’ there, and then our men were able to take ’em afore they could reload. That first volley took three, though.”