Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots (38 page)

But Tom... he did not look so very brave, or rather he looked as I have always known him to look when he was trying to be brave. But… I could say nothing under the circumstances to mitigate the matter. So, I expressed my outrage at his accusations, and he asked if we should settle the matter as gentlemen, and… I said aye.”

As he spoke, I glanced at Gaston. My matelot seemed composed, but I could tell he was still not himself.

I turned my attention back to Dickey, who was also eyeing Gaston with concern. “We are all a trifle unsettled.” I shrugged. “And, well, we knew someone has to kill Tom. I am sorry it is you, though.” I was especially sorry as I felt he lacked the conviction necessary. He did not truly view Tom as his enemy.

He chewed his lip. “I do not know if I can.”

“We will address that before all else in my instruction. Weapons?”

“Pistols,” he said glumly.

“I assume the place is the beach. When?” I asked.

“Dawn. On the morrow.”

I nodded. “We have the rest of the day to instruct you, then. I feel confident in what I can teach you.”

Then others were upon us and I could not finish all I wished to say.

Striker gave me a smile that said much of his sense of irony concerning events, and I returned it. Here we had made all our plans and Tom had gone off and challenged Dickey.

I looked over the assemblage: in addition to Striker there were Pete, of course; Pierrot; the Belle Mer’s captain, Savant; Julio and Davey; and three men I did not know but assumed were French. Savant, who I had not met before, was a smallish man, with square shoulders and head, and a somewhat squat and bulbous nose, yet he was not ugly: there was a pleasing plainness to his countenance. At the moment, he appeared anything but pleased.

“Nice shooting,” Pierrot said in English with a grin.

I snorted. “And you have not seen the bull carcass yet. Pete will be pleased to hear I managed a second shot.”

Pete chuckled. “Bulls Drunk Or Scared.”

I grinned. “The bull proved to be sufficient motivation. I do not remember powdering the pan.”

This brought amusement for all except Dickey, who was distraught, and Savant and the other Frenchmen, as apparently they did not speak English. Savant did not appear to be in a fine enough humor to find amusement even if he had understood my jest. He was glaring at Gaston, who was looking at none of them. This was not missed by Pierrot and Striker, who appeared concerned, as always. I sighed.

“What occurred?” Savant asked in French.

“They were his men,” Striker said quietly.

I spoke French. “We thought we might be pursued. Gaston heard someone in the woods behind us. We went into the field to avoid them.

We came upon a bull. When we had taken the bull, we found ourselves surrounded by five men. One of them, a man my matelot recognized as Le Croix, said that they only wanted Gaston and that I could go. That was unacceptable, so we defended ourselves.”

Savant turned to glare back at where the corpses lay in the field.

Pierrot was smiling at the sky and worrying his lip with his thumb to disguise it. I took the opportunity to translate for the Englishmen in the audience. They found amusement in my account much as Pierrot did.

“There were five of them, and good men,” Savant said accusingly.

“How do you mean that, sir?” I asked in French. “Do you mean they were good men, and therefore should have been allowed to take my matelot’s life over a misunderstanding of past events, or do you mean they were superior combatants we should not have been able to fell?”

His gaze, and the flicked glance he spared Gaston, said he meant both; but he said, “They were experienced fighters, and you were only two.”

I awarded him a grim smile. “They were not so experienced they did not make mistakes.”

“How so?” he asked.

“They forgot they were not hunting cattle or befuddled Spaniards.

Muskets are weapons of range: they came too close with them. They did not have other weapons drawn. They allowed themselves to become distracted by one of their number translating my words…”

“Why?” Savant snapped. “You speak French very well.”

I awarded him a grim smile. “Oui. They allowed themselves to become distracted…”

This time he understood and gave a small hiss of annoyance.

“And,” I added, “they should have brought more men. They should have learned from Doucette. No one takes my matelot from me. Not five.

Not an army.”

Some of the anger left him and he gave a prolonged sigh. He spoke with his gaze on the trees around us. “They were wrong to seek justice as they did.”

“Especially when there was no justice in what they sought,” I said firmly.

He looked at me sharply. “Your matelot is mad.”

“That does not make him responsible for what occurred with Doucette,” I said.

He snorted. “I’ll allow that, but my men won’t sail with him.”

“I cannot address that,” I sighed. “I can speak of events on Île de la Tortue, but I cannot change who or what my man is. Now if you will excuse me, I wish for my captain to know what has been said.”

Savant turned away and led the other Frenchmen back to the bodies. Pierrot gave me a reassuring smile before following them. In their wake, Liam and Otter slipped over to join us.

I relayed all to our cabal. For the sake of the French, who would still have been in hearing of hearty laughter, our friends tried to suppress their amusement at my explanation of our attackers’ failure.

Throughout this, Gaston had been sitting with his knees hugged to his chest. When I finished, he touched Dickey’s arm and said earnestly,

“Will shot a man behind him, a man with a musket aimed at me, before the man could fire. He will teach you, and you will win.”

“Well,” I added quickly, “it was aided greatly in that Gaston moved when I told him to.”

“I believe you,” Dickey told Gaston. “I merely hope that I am up to the task of benefiting from Will’s instruction.”

“Well,” I said with a grin, “if I harbor any doubt as to your ability, we will enact a time-honored solution. One of us will challenge Tom to a duel set for this evening at sunset.”

This brought great amusement from all but Gaston and Dickey.

Pete raised his hand. “ISaw’Im Flirtin’With Striker.”

I laughed quietly. “We might have to do a bit better than that, but you understand the method.”

At further mention of matelots, I remembered that Dickey had one.

“Where is the Bard? Does he know of this?” I asked.

Dickey gave a guilty shake of his head. “Francis is on the Queen still, as always. I hope word has not spread to him yet. I wished... I was going to go straight out and tell him, and then the French returned with word of where you were and I thought it prudent to secure your aid first.”

“You need not explain it to me,” I said kindly and clapped his shoulder. “I feel that was indeed the prudent course of action, as I do not know that we intended to return to the ships. I am sure the Bard will find it wise once you explain it to him.”

“You should stay with Will and Gaston and practice,” Striker said.

“Would you have me tell him of it, so that he hears of it, and your reasons for not being the one to tell him, from a friend instead of through gossip?”

“Would you please?” Dickey said gratefully.

“Aye. And you two,” Striker addressed me, “should come in with him tonight.”

“Aye, I agree,” I said with a smile, “we need be there on the morrow to watch the duel. Then we can slip away again, not that we were so very successful this time.”

“That is what concerns me.” Striker shook his head. “Spend tonight on the ship. Then slip away after the duel if you must, but Will, only if you must. I feel you will be safer amongst us.”

I nodded sadly. “It is that bad?”

He shrugged. “This,” he indicated the bodies in the field, “won’t make it better. I don’t know if he speaks the truth for his men. We’ll need time to discover that.”

“I know,” I sighed. “We will see where we are once we sail to join the others. If necessary, we might welcome being left in Port Royal.”

“I would rather lose Savant and his men than the two of you, but that’s a bit of foolishness,” Striker said sadly.

“Thank you,” I said, “at the least, it is a sentiment that will not be shared by Morgan.”

“The Devil with Morgan,” he sighed. He looked to Gaston and bit his lip. “How is he?”

Gaston had been scratching about in the dirt with a stick. He surprised me by meeting Striker’s gaze and saying quietly, “This did not make things better.”

Striker sucked air and gave a small grimace of embarrassment. “I did not mean…”

My matelot waved the words away and spoke irritably. “I cannot know if I am in my right mind from one minute to the next; why should I expect you to?” Then his tone softened, and his gaze returned to the dirt. “I am sorry. You are a good friend. I am grateful for your concern.

I do not know how I will be on the morrow. Much will depend on what occurs. If for some reason Dickey is wounded, I shall be very busy, and though it may seem odd to some, very sane.”

This evinced a quiet gasp from Dickey, and he whispered, “Thank you.”

Gaston sighed and looked at Dickey. “I doubt that will occur. Thus much will depend on… how much I feel of their hate and fear.”

All were quiet and thoughtful.

“We can stay on the ship,” I offered.

“Nay,” Liam said. “We’ll stay with ya iffn’ ya need to come out here.”

Behind him, Otter nodded.

“As will we,” Julio added. “You shall not be alone.”

Gaston took a ragged breath and muttered, “thank you,” before standing and walking away.

I looked at the ring of thoughtful faces. “Aye, thank you all. I do not know what we have done to deserve all of you, but I am grateful, and I hope we might repay you all someday.”

Pete snorted disparagingly. “Friends Ain’tOn Account.”

I grinned. “I believe it would only be on account if repayment were expected. I would not sully any of you by saying that you would expect such a thing in exchange for your kindness. I am merely hoping I have the opportunity to enhance the esteem of my soul by offering what aid I can to my fellows.”

The Golden One frowned and then awarded me a crooked smile and looked away with mischief. “Iffn It Be Fur Yur Own Good Then So Be It.”

Striker snorted. “Knowing Pete’s and my luck, when we need you, you’ll have all the chance you could ask to enhance your soul.”

He looked the others over. “Liam? Otter?”

“We ain’t leavin’ ’im,” Liam assured him, and then as if in opposition to his words, he and Otter returned to tending the meat at the fire.

Striker nodded and walked away to join the captains and their men, who were digging holes to bury the dead where they lay. “Will, make sure Dickey will win,” he said over his shoulder.

“Aye, aye, captain,” I called after him.

Pete cackled and followed his matelot, as did Julio after giving me a smile.

Davey lingered, though. He met my questioning gaze and surprised me greatly by saying, “I already owe ya more than I can repay. We’ll stand by ya.”

“Thank you,” I managed to say.

He nodded curtly and went to join his matelot.

Still surprised, I looked to Dickey and found him frowning at Davey’s retreating back.

“I did not expect that,” Dickey said.

“Nor I.” I chuckled, then sobered as I looked to Gaston. He was leaning on a tree nearby, with his back to us and his arms crossed.

“Before we begin your lessons…”

Dickey nodded and smiled and went to join Liam and Otter.

I found another tree to lean on a short distance away, so that I could regard Gaston in profile.

“Did you hear Davey?” I asked. “I might not have to shoot him. I have harbored a suspicion for some time that I might have to deal with him as we are dealing with Tom at some future date.”

Gaston turned to gaze upon me with amused regard.

I grinned. “As I have oft said, I am by no means a man destined for sainthood. I perform good deeds, such as they are, to balance the atrocities I have committed.”

“Balance,” Gaston said thoughtfully. “That is it. I feel as if your Gods seek balance.”

“My Gods?”

He smiled. “I have found I have more belief in your Gods than the idea of the one true God.”

“I do not know how much actual faith I have in Them,” I said thoughtfully.

He snorted. “You have great faith in Them.”

“I suppose I do, though I know not precisely what I feel They are.”

“Is it necessary?” he asked. “Is it not enough to feel Their effect?”

“Many would say the same for the one true God.”

He shrugged. “I feel there is order to all that is. I do not care what provides it at the moment. I am only concerned with the end effect upon our lives.”

“And you feel there is balance? Justice, perhaps?”

He grinned at me. “Perhaps.” Then he sobered and spoke with increasing agitation. “I feel that I have never known love before as I have this last year, and I feel that is balanced by the amount of hate I now find directed at my person. And this has been true of every other time I have felt love, there has always been someone who hates me, as if the balance must be maintained, as if there is some giant scale where such things are weighed, and the more love I receive, the more hate I must receive in equal measure.”

I sighed. “I have felt the same on occasion; however, what of the times we have experienced hatred with no love in sight?”

He frowned and shrugged. “I know not. You are correct. Perhaps hatred need not be balanced if it stands alone, or perhaps… it is balanced by indifference when it occurs without love.”

He shrugged that thought away, and turned to me with an earnest mien. “All I know now is that I feel I must surely be hated by all the men on Île de la Tortue in order to balance the scales against the love I receive from you and our friends.”

I smiled. “Well, my love, then gird yourself well, because you will surely gain the enmity of all who live, as I see no end in sight of my adoration of you.”

He looked away and leaned his head against the tree. A smile played about his lips until it finally claimed his mouth. “Damn you.”