Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots (22 page)

She nodded her agreement.

“First we need to stop by our house,” I said.

Gaston returned, without the bag he had packed or the sack. We exchanged a look of mutual understanding. Two aspects of our daily regimen would obviously wait. At least we would exercise.

With the “lads” following along, we made our way to the house. I gave fervent prayer to the Gods that none would be home when we arrived. I had been fooled by Miss Vines’ guise for a moment, and I could see where one who did not know her would be quite taken in; but I could not see how the disguise could resist much scrutiny.

Agnes’ disguise was nearly beyond reproach. She had looked and moved like a gangly boy when she was in a dress.

I concentrated on Miss Vines. I watched her as we walked, seeking any disparity that would give her away. After observation, I had to admit she was quite convincing. She had obviously bound her bosom quite flat, and the loose and simple linen shirt she wore hid all signs of it. Her hips were slim to begin with, and her baggy breeches showed nothing amiss. I imagined her hair to be tightly bound and pinned under the hat. This was fine under the circumstances. She would only be in trouble if she had to remove it. She had practiced walking and acting like a lad. There was nothing girlish about her gait or mannerisms. She did appear to exaggerate certain things a bit, but that was common for a lad wishing to appear to be older than he was, just as was the attempt at deepening her voice. She had mastered speaking like a commoner as well, and though it was not necessary as part of her ruse of pretending to be a boy, it did hide her true status and matched her attire.

However, her hands and feet were slim, delicate, un-calloused, and unmarred. She did not appear to have worked much at all, or walked about her entire life barefoot, as a boy her supposed age here on Jamaica would have done. Adolescent lads usually have large feet and hands they have yet to grow into. And she possessed the fine white complexion of a young lady who avoids the sun, not the golden tan of any youth in the tropics. The first matter would have been solved if she wore boots and gloves. The second would have been solved by her being in any other clime in Christendom, as most of her skin would have been covered. In fact, the matter of her passing as a lad would have been very easy if she were fully dressed in hose, shoes, periwig, coat, and the like.

By the time we reached our house, I was more concerned that someone would be committing buggery on the table than I was that any would realize they were girls.

The front room appeared cleaner than it had the day before, and smelled better too. Someone had put great effort into cleaning the walls and corners of piss. The back room still smelled of dog, and rightly so.

We found Pete sleeping with the puppies. I was relieved he had breeches on. I looked to the girls, and was amused to find wide eyes. Miss Vines met my knowing grin with a snort and quickly looked away. There was a slight flush on her cheeks.

Agnes was reverent and whispered, “I would dearly like to draw him.”

I thought of her fine portraits of Miss Vines that I had glimpsed and agreed. “I would dearly like to see you render him on paper. Perhaps that can be arranged someday.”

I realized I would like to see her rendition of Gaston even more.

Perhaps I had found a way to show him what I saw.

Gaston dropped down beside Pete and took up a puppy. The Golden One woke and eyed the “lads” standing near me with momentary curiosity before talking to Gaston. I decided a good dose of puppy breath was necessary, and dropped down to join them.

The girls were uncertain. Agnes finally joined us, and I passed her a puppy, hoping she would not coo over it in a ridiculous manner. She did not; she merely held it and smoothed its wrinkled skin with gentle touches. Nor did she squeal or in any way panic when Bella came to inspect her.

Miss Vines held her distance and watched us from behind a mask of detachment. She looked every bit the part she played. Lads trying to be men do not often have time for puppies: that is a boyish thing.

Striker joined us, with a bucket and brush in hand. His glare at Pete told me who had been doing much of the cleaning. His lack of interest in the “lads” told me he did not recognize Miss Vines in the least. I introduced them as Art and Chris, and he barely nodded.

“The house is looking much better,” I told him.

He awarded me a grim smile. “I am glad you think so. Liam and Otter have been asking about; they have had no luck locating a housekeeper. Would you ask Theodore of it?”

“Aye,” I said. “Speaking of Theodore, he needs any who wish for the land grants to meet with him and sign the papers. Please tell all our cabal. And Pete will need a surname.”

Striker sighed. “Damn, I suppose in this instance he cannot use mine.”

“You have never adopted a surname?” I asked Pete.

“Nay. They Give Me One At Newgate. Not Mine.”

“Then we will have to name you,” I said, and looked to Gaston.

He frowned in thought. Pete regarded us with suspicion.

I thought of my titles for him. I called him the Golden One, so perhaps Golden was an option, but perhaps it was a bit odd. And I thought of Striker and him as the wolves.

“Wolf,” I said. “Peter Wolf.”

Gaston nodded.

Pete thought on it, and looked to Striker, who grinned.

“I like it,” Striker said.

Pete slowly grinned. “Me Too. I’llTake It. ’Cause IGot Teeth Sose ICan Kill Spaniards An’Protect Puppies.”

He hoisted the puppy he held up high, and it squawked in surprise, earning him glares from Bella and Gaston. He quickly brought it to his face and cooed reassuringly.

Striker and I laughed.

“Aye, aye, such a mean damn wolf,” Striker teased.

Pete stuck out his tongue at Striker.

“What are your plans?” Striker asked me.

“Palisadoes, sparring, teaching these lads a thing or two about swords.”

He shrugged. “Have a fine time, then. We’ll see Theodore.”

We handed Pete our puppies and departed.

“Are all buccaneers like them?” Agnes asked once we were out the door. “They seemed very nice.”

I chuckled. “They are unique amongst men. Nay, I feel most of the Brethren are not so very nice, and if you were a Spaniard or any other man those two despised, you would not find them nice at all. But Aye, most we choose to sail with are goodly men.”

“You need a housekeeper?” Miss Vines asked. She spoke quietly and without the attempt to disguise her voice or breeding.

“Aye,” I said. “We need someone to watch the place while we rove, and we need someone to maintain some degree of order when we are in port. Do you know of anyone available?”

She looked at Agnes, who was regarding a cart we passed. “Aye.

Agnes’ father wishes to sell her as a bondservant.”

Agnes whirled on her friend with betrayal all over her pinched face.

“Christine!”

“Hush,” Miss Vines admonished, and looked about.

No one seemed to be looking at us, but we hurried on anyway.

“Agnes’s stepfather has wished to sell her since her mother died recently,” Miss Vines continued a block later. “He has not, yet, because I have hired her as a servant, and thus he receives some income from her existence. Yet he still wants the pounds her contract could bring. I do not have the money, and as much as my father is a kind man, he will not see that we need another bondswoman.”

“You need worry about it no longer,” Gaston said firmly.

I grinned and addressed Agnes. “Aye, we will see to it. I have no interest in owning you, girl, but if it will give you a safe place to live and freedom of a different sort, we will arrange it. If you wish, of course.”

She shot Miss Vines another hurt glare before nodding thoughtfully to me. “I know nothing of housekeeping, sir. In England we had servants, and here, my stepfather has slaves.”

I shook my head. “Agnes, the only things we will require of you are that you live in the house while we are roving so that it does not burn down and no one takes up residence there. You would keep the cistern, woodbin, and lamps filled. And make sure the dogs are fed so that they do not roam the streets. You can practice art to your heart’s content.

When we are in port, I do not know... I do not believe that house will be affected by any of our other plans. I do not know who will reside there. Currently, it is home to a whole host of our associates. I think merely having someone female about will mitigate most of the damage the house suffered these last months. However, it would be nice if you learned how to cook. Pete is very fond of pies and we boil all of our water.”

“I could do all of that,” she said.

“She should learn to shoot,” Gaston added.

“Who would I have to shoot?” she asked with alarm.

I snorted. “Any of our guests attempting to shoot rats inside the house. Or pissing on the walls.”

She was horrified, and I relented.

“Nay, nay,” I assured her, “it will not be so bad. Merely threatening to shoot them should suffice.”

She was still wide-eyed as we walked through the gate at Fort Rupert.

As always, this chance to do philanthropy pleased me; yet, I wondered if I would rue it in the end. My attempt to help the sheep of Ithaca had surely gone awry. And I honestly could not blame myself alone in that. Aye, I had left them, but it was possible that even if I had stayed things would be no different, other than my tearing my hair out with frustration. On the other hand, our rescue of Davey had provided him a better life. Agnes’ situation would remain to be seen, and I resolved to allow myself to feel pleasure at the initial promise of it.

We began to travel up the beach, seeking a place where we would not have an audience. Many of the buccaneers waiting to sail lived on the Palisadoes in little camps scattered here and there. To be clear of them, we knew we would have to go a good distance, and we settled into a jog to cover it. The girls brought that to an end after a hundred yards.

They were already winded. I supposed it was to be expected, as they rarely had occasion to run anyplace. It would probably be a great effort for them to walk as far as we must. After all, they were women, and gentle ones at that, and thus not used to any form of labor or exercise.

And so we walked. Agnes bemoaned not bringing her sketchbook.

Gaston engaged her in conversation about the plants we saw, and soon the pair of them were meandering to and fro between the water and trees. Meanwhile, Miss Vines and I walked a fairly straight path along the top of the surf. I knew this to be by Gaston’s design. Yet I was loathe to have the conversation he was giving me opportunity to engage in.

Thankfully, Miss Vines was a forthright young woman.

“I was concerned we would not see you today,” she said. “I thought it likely I would not see you for another six months, but then you did seek me out this time.”

She awarded me a sly smile.

I smiled in return. There was no reason to dissemble; it would merely waste time.

“As I am engaged in dangerous enterprises, my father wishes for me to marry and produce an heir,” I said quickly.

This took the smile from her lips; she nodded to herself with her eyes on the horizon.

I continued. “According to the last letter I received, he is choosing, or has chosen, a bride, and is sending her forthwith.”

This brought a questioning frown, but she still did not turn to meet my gaze.

“I do not feel I shall like any bride he may choose,” I said. “I wish to choose my own.”

She nodded with full understanding. “I see. So you choose to woo me?”“In this less than romantic manner, aye.”

“And I am deemed to have sufficient lineage?” she asked wryly.

“According to Mister Theodore’s research, aye.”

Her smile was fleeting. “I do not wish to marry nor have children.”

“I thought that your likely sentiment,” I sighed.

“Yet you feel I may be swayed, else you would not be here now?” she asked with a frown.

“My dear lad, I am walking up the beach to go and spar with my matelot. You sought me out this morn.”

“Touché. Is that not the term?” she asked.

I grinned. “I believe you are using it correctly.”

She sighed. “I daresay all of the men who have courted me would be appalled, if not terrified, by my wearing breeches. I can make strong men blanch by expressing my opinion. I do not wish to ever become what they wish for in a wife. I see the others of my sex living purportedly happy lives and I cannot conceive of it for myself. I never wish to live as they do.”

“What aspect of their existence do you find so unacceptable? I am merely curious. I can guess, but I would have you clarify it.”

“They do not think,” she said after a pause. “Or have a care, beyond the confines of their households and the welfare of their offspring. They live confined little lives, devoid of adventure and even discourse. They may as well be cattle lowing in the field.”

“Do you feel this is a natural state of affairs, or one forced upon them?” I asked.

“Both,” she snapped. “For many, they never wish to rise above it, and the ones that do are told they are unacceptable. They are reduced to games of intrigue and seduction in order to achieve anything of worth in the world. They may not battle with sword or coin to sway the future, or even defend their beliefs and honor. They must find a way to get a man to do these things for them.”

I had planned to disabuse her notions by saying I had met many a powerful woman, but I realized she was correct. Teresina was a fine example. All of her power issued from her ability to control men, which she excelled at. In the end she was trapped by it.

“I want to be able to do so many things!” Miss Vines yelled with a fervor that attracted the attention of Gaston and Agnes. “I read of great kings and generals and I want to lead a nation and win battles, not bed the men who do and bear their offspring. I want to learn to fence. I want to learn to sail. I would like to study medicine. I would attend Oxford. I would learn mathematics. All of that is denied me because of my sex. I hate it. I pray daily that some blessed event will occur and I will not be as I am.