Pirates Return IC

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Daniel put the last clean dish in the rack, then hurried out to the fire where Matty was still playing. It was "Whiskey in the jar". Daniel took out his bones and started playing percussion and singing. His voice had gone from soprano to high tenor last year, and sometimes he still was surprised with a squeek now and then, but for the most part he had a nice clear tone. After that they sang "Gold Coast Shanty", "The Blackberry Wench", and "The Minstrel Boy". Several of the men had gotten up to dance, one of them even on a table top. Somebody paid for a mug of grog for the two boys. As he put his to his lips, he looked at his mom to see if she would say anything about him drinking.

 

Three Swords returned to the bar, sliding onto one of the stools, "Another grog, Bart." He said, dropping a few copper's from his pouch onto the bar as Bart poured his drink.

"Word has spread fast, I see, you'll have replenished the crew in no time if it carries on this way."

"Aye, Bart, you're right." Three Swords replied, taking a sip from his grog, "I'd best see to them." he spun in the stool and stood, walking over to the card table and sweeping the money up into his palm. He approached Ricardo and Alexa and placed the coins on the table. "I hope you can fairly split the money between yourselves." He said as he stepped back to return to his place at the bar.

He slid into the stool again and took another drink of his grog.

 

Between songs, Matty leaned over to Daniel as if they were discussing what songs to play next. "The Cap'n's got tha' look agin, 'e wants ter git movin'. Be a' the dock at sunup - when we load on th' food, help wi' a few loads an' then jus' 'happen t' git lef' inna hold with the taters. I'll bring ye water until we be far enow at sea tha' 'e canna put ye oot."

"Name's Matty, by the way."

 

Alexa watched Daniel with amusement as he joined in with the lad playing the music. Her eyes followed her son, pride filling her. Then she noticed that one of the sailors had bought some grog for both boys.

"Daniel lad, nowt is not tha time for ye t'be drinkin' tha grog. D'ye really expec' tha' I be lettin' ye drink at 'ome?" She chuckled at the expression on her son's face as she started to sound more like his step-father.

"Don't worry, lad. Just drink that mug of grog, then no more. 'Tis rude to refuse a drink that someone has bought for ye." Her eyes twinkled mischeviously, and she turned back to Ricardo as Three Swords dropped the silver onto the table.

"Now, shall we split these winnings evenly?"

 

Zheng slipped unnoticed back into the Rotten Kelp and pulled up a chair the bar with a chair between him and Threeswords. He asked for a grog and placing some coppers in Bart's hand. He muttered a thanks and drank greedily from the mug.He looked over his shoulder at the various people in that night. The usual collection of drunks and people Zheng had seen about.

He shifted to the seat next to the Abbot and ordered two mugs of grog. He paid, left one in front of the Captain and moved to an empty table and sat in silence drinking from his mug, thinking about his days on th farm when life was simpler and easiergoing. His mind travelled through the rice paddys and half wished he could return there. He sighed and drank once more.

 

Ricardo watched with growing amusement as the redhead scolded her son; her sudden lapse into rougher way of talking quite surprising… and intriguing.

”Señora, the silver is all yours.” He told her with a smile, pushing the coins towards her. “I am not in the habit of gifting women with silver,. “He ran his eyes over her body appreciatively as he leaned back in his chair. “But for you… I am making an exception.”

 

Alexa stood suddenly, hazel eyes blazing. "I take no one's charity! And I am not some lonely wench, looking for a roll in the hay for coin! You DARE presume such? I? With my son not ten feet away?"

Her hand whistled through the air, slapping Ricardo firmly across the face. She scooped half of the silver on the table and stormed off, looking ready to kill the next person who approached her.

 

Daniel watched the dark skinned man talk to his mom. He felt...he didn't know what this feeling was, but he didn't like it, he had to get out of there. He finished his grog and stood up.

"Thanks for the grog, mister," he said to the sailor. "It was fun singing and playing with you, Matty. Maybe we'll do it again sometime. I've got a lot of wood to chop before I can go to bed. Good night mom."

He went out back and started chopping wood. He carefully cut a flat plank to the shape of his boots. Going to the tool shed, he drove some small nails through the planks and stepped on them with the wooden soles of his boots. It was clumsy, but it made him appear about an inch taller. Then he got Bart's old pants and shirt that his belly had gotten too big for and Daniel sometimes wore for really dirty chores. Picking up a piece of charcoal from the coal pile, he went up to bed.

The next morning he got up at dawn, passing by his mom's door he called, "Mom, I'm going over to Old Man Jackson's to help him unload some stuff. I'll be gone all morning. Bye." He left without waiting for an answer.

In the smithee's outhouse, two streets away, he put on his disguise. Taller boots, his bundle of the pistols and daggers wrapped in a blanket filling out Bart's old shirt, giving him a nice beer belly look. Old hat pulled down over his eyebrows, and to top it off, he rubbed charcoal all over his face and hands to give him a dirty and dark look. He didn't have a looking glass, but he was sure his mom wouldn't recognize him from a distance, and he wasn't planning on making eye contact with her on the off chance that he saw her.

He went down to the docks where Matty had told him to meet him. Matty wasn't there, but sure enough, a line of porters were bringing bags and boxes on ship. He picked up a fifty pound bags of potatoes and threw it over his shoulder, then followed the line of porters down to the hold. When the others had went back for another load, he made an empty space in a stack of crates, then boxed himself in with some other crates.

Only then did his heart stop pounding. He was on board the Pale Horse!

 

Ricardo swore, tasting blood when the redhead stormed away. How dare she? Blood pounded through his ears as he stood, ready to grab her and make sure she would never make the mistake of striking him again... even if he knew that to do so would be foolish.

His cheek burned with what he knew to be a hand-shaped mark when he strode across the room, gripping the coins in his hand. He gritted his teeth, the coins biting into his palm as he approached her carefully, stopping a good five feet away.

“Señora”; he spoke, his voice strained. “I assure you, I meant no insult whatsoever. I wouldn’t dream of doubting your virtue.” He tossed the coins on the bar, the silver skittering to rest in front of the redhead. “Take it, Señora. I am not looking to buy your favor. I merely believe that you have more use for it than I do, especially since you provide for… Daniel.”

 

Alexa glared at Ricardo, eyes flashing. "I provide for Daniel well enough, thank you. My profession supplies enough funding for me to care for my son, and my late husband left me enough to care for the both of us."

She turned her back to him, every inch of her body speaking of affront and anger. "Leave me. And if you dare presume to approach me in such a way again, I swear by whatever god you believe in, you will never be able to reproduce."

 

Ricardo’s face tightened. “As you wish, Señora. Nevertheless, I must apologize and ask for your forgivness, sijnce it was never my intention to insult you.”

He bowed stiffly at the waist, and turned on his heel. He would leave her to be… for now.

 

The hours passed swiftly in the Rotten Kelp. Three swords drank steadily for the most part and speaking with those who wished to join the crew for the rest. Very quickly, he noted, he was close to a full crew again, with just a few hammocks empty.

He looked over those who had joined so far. The knife fighter Jacques would be a good addition – if his claim to be a good navigator held true, that was. In any case, his skills with a knife would come in handy if they ran into trouble. He was also very happy to have managed to have recruited Alexa. For one, a skilled surgeon was hard to find, and she was known as one of the best. Added to that, she was a legend in her own right would boost the crew’s morale immensely.

Ricardo, though, was one he had trouble with. He was handsome, with a face a person could trust, but there seemed like something lurking beneath his charming exterior – like a snake in a rose garden, or as Three Swords thought of it: Gold plated ****.

He thought back to the street entertainer he had asked to join the crew – he knew little to nothing about him, except that he was a thieving little get. He’d watch him closely. The last thing Three Swords wanted was a member of the crew rushing off with more than their fair share.

Three Swords was happy enough with the crew but he figured it to be a long morning. So he lifted his drink, downed it to the dregs and strolled out of the door after saying “Good night, Bart. We still have a few bunks left on the Horse, send any latecomers to me in the morning.”

He made his way to the Pale Horse, the cool breeze sobering him a little. Swiftly, he climbed the gangplank to find the guards he had left half asleep but sober. “Any problems?” he asked one.

“Nothing too bad, Cap’n,” he said, snapping upright “Just a few folk snooping around the ship – just wanting to see the new vessel in town we figured. We chased off any that got too close.” He paused “There was another thing though, Cap’n sir. A couple of folk have been nearby all day.” His voice dropped to a whisper “Red Hands, sir. They haven’t caused any trouble, just… watched… all day, sir.” He waited for Three Swords, reaction. Abbot, nodded, thinking over what to do.

“Alright, go get you and the others a pint of rum each but stay on board, keep below and I’ll shout if you’re needed.” The guard, nodded and told the other’s who all grinned and rushed below to the rum stores. Three Swords watched them go then turned and looked for the Red Hands.

There were two, as far as he could see, and their eyes were on him. Abbot stepped back, opening the door to his cabin and moving inside. He lit no candles, but sat by the window, watching the men.


The morning took an age to come Three Swords thought, and he was tired to the point of passing out on the spot. The Red Hands were having him watched, he knew, and fresh men had been posted in place of last nights watch.
His men had started gather, though, and the porter’s were busy carrying supplies below deck. Three Swords stood and stretched his body. He felt completely out of sorts, but he stepped outside, drinking in the fresh air. He felt a little vigour being restored to his limbs and he walked out onto the deck. “Mister Anders,” Three Swords said, addressing a member of the crew, “Start sending men into my cabin so they may sign the Articles. One at a time.” He said and strode back into his cabin, and sitting behind his desk. From a drawer, he produced a mass of paper with the articles already written upon them.

Three Swords looked over the Articles, reading the words that were already drilled into his head:

Article One
Every man shall obey civil command; the captain shall have on full share and a half in all prizes. the Master, Carpenter, Boatswain, and Gunner shall have one share and quarter.
Article Two
If any man shall offer to run away, or keep any secret from the Company, he shall be marroon'd with one bottle of powder, one bottle of Water, one small Arm, and shot.
Article Three
If any Man shall steal any Thing in the Company, or game, to the value of a piece of Eight, he shall be Marroon'd or shot.
Article Four
If at any Time we should meet at another Marrooner (that is, Pyrate) that man shall sign his Articles without Consent of our Company, shall suffer such Punishment as the Captain and Company shall think fit.
Article Five
That a man that shall strike another, whilst these Articles are in force, shall receive Moses's Law (that is 40 Stripes lacking one) on the bare Back.
Article Six
That Man that shall snap his Arms, or smoak Tobacco in the Hold, without cap to his Pipe, or carry a candle lighted without lanthorn, shall suffer the same Punishment as in the former Article.
Article Seven
That Man that shall not keep his Arms clean, fit for an Engagement, or neglect his Business, shall be cut off from his Share, and suffer such other Punishment as the Captain and Company shall think fit.
Article eight
If any man shall lose a joint in time of Engagement, shall have 400 Pieces of Eight: if a limb, 800.
Article Nine
If at any time you meet with a prudent Woman, that Man that offers to meddle with her, without her Consent, shall suffer Death.

Abbot settled back and awaited the first of the newcomers.

 

Matty had staked out a hammock at the far end of the crew's quarters. Half behind some of the timbers, the corner was cramped for anyone larger than he - meaning, the rest of the crew. This place afforded him as much privacy as anyone not deserving of a cabin could have aboard ship.

The timbers also created a few nice hidey-holes for Matty's few treasures: the silver flute, Da's last letter, a few scraps leftover from the mother he didn't remember, and a small pouch of coins. He added to it the silver that he had scooped from the bar last night (it was easy to take advantage of the confusion created by his wounded pride and her righteous indignation). The harp wouldn't be his soon, but every little bit helped.

 

Zheng had cleaned his clothes and shaved any traces of stubble from his face with a knife. He had a dreamless night last night but still felt tired. "Shouldn't of had that ninth mug of grog" he thought shrugging off the aftereffects. He approached the door to the cabin, knocked gently and made his way inside. He stopped at the front of the desk and Abbot nodded to the paper in front of him.

Zheng took another step forward and picked up one of the peices of paper. He read the articles, twice, each in turn. He thought for a moment, pausing for a reason unknown to him before bending over the desk, he signed the bottom and placed it neatly on the desktop in front of Threeswords. Without saying a word he turned on his heel and left the cabin.

 

"Very good, Zheng." Three Swords said mildly, "Find yourself an empty hammock below and how your things on it's peg. We'll be under way by midday so don't stray far from the ship."

Three Swords had never learnt to read until later on in his life and whenever he had had to sign something, he had simply made his mark on paper, a simple circle with a long line passing vertically down the centre. He made that mark now beneath Zheng's signature as the new crewmember left the cabin.

 

Ricardo stepped into the captain’s cabin, narrowing his eyes after the brightness of early morning sun. His shoulders tensed as he approached and greeted the Captain; it had been a long time since he had signed a ship’s articles.

He quickly read the words scrawled on the parchment, making sure there would be no nasty surprises hidden in them. At the fifth article, he smirked; last night he had learned that the redhead would be the ship’s new surgeon… this would prove out to be interesting.

After rading through the articles twice, he took the quill and signed with a certain flourish.

“By your leave, Captain?” he asked, noticing how the man was eyeing his signature.

 

"Not quite yet, Santiago." Three Swords said as he scrawled his mark on the paper, "I can see here that you write well and I expect that you are a man with some kind of education and I know you have served on a ship before and have obviously done well for yourself." he said.

"Taking all of this into consideration, I think you will do well as the new Quartermaster." He paused to let the word's sink in, "That means you get one quarter share of the loot - but you'll have to work for it." Swiftly, Abbot swept the paper into a drawer, "For now, I want you to familiarise yourself with the crew and make your presence and new rank known to all of them." Three Swords nodded, "Now you may leave."

There was another reasons he had made Ricardo the new Master, though. With some of the crew still holding a grudge against him, it would be better to have a completely neutral party deal out the punishment if any of them started a mutiny. Well, not completely neutral, he thought, the quick promotion would have Ricardo on his side.

 

Jacques finished whetting his knife blade, and slipped the oilstone back in its paper and into his coat pocket. He let the murky glow of the inn's flickering lights dance along the blade for a moment, checking that the last speck of dirt from the tavern floor had been cleaned off before finally sheathing it, and draining the last drops of his wine.

The tavern had too busy for Jacques' liking, so he made his way out into the cool morning twilight. Hunching his shoulders and trying to make himself inconspicuous, Jacques made his way down towards the docks, where the Pale Horse awaited.

Picking out the sleek vessel easily among the loosely-bound driftwood buckets that took up the rest of the docks, he climbed on deck, fixing in his mind the feel of his feet on the solid ground of the wharf. A non-descript crewman lazily lifted an eye towards him as Jacques stepped onto the deck, and levered himself up from his seat.

"Is the Captain on board?" Jacques asked the grizzled sailor, receiving a grunt and a nod towards the cabin door in return. Jacques turned and headed for the heavy oak door, which promptly burst open as he reached to knock. Ricardo brushed past him, staring past as if in reverie. Jacques slid past him and knocked twice on the still-open door.

On hearing a gruff voice bark "Door's open, ye pillock!" he walked in and picked up the papers on the desk in front of Three Swords.

Jacques ran his eye over the articles. Seeing that there was nothing out of the ordinary, he signed the paper - a short, scrawled signature - and handed the sheet back to the Captain.

 

"That'll do fine, Jacques." Three Swords said, making his mark on the paper as he had done several times already this morning. Abbot pushed the paper from his desk and looked up at Jacques, "If you are to be our new navigator, then I want you to start work immediately." He pointed to several rolls of maps in the corner, "Take them and study them, then I want you to plot a course to Port Royal. That's all." Three swords said.

The ship still carried damage from the previous encounter, but he did not want to wait here whilst the Red Hand kept track of him. They may attack his ship at any time so he wanted to leave port as quickly as possible and have the damage repaired at Port Royal.

Their constant watch had him on edge and he needed something to help him relax. Laying the quill down, Three Swords stood and stepped outside his cabin. At the top of his voice, he bellowed "Matty, you scurvy lickspittle, get your scronny hide up here... and bring your pipes."

 

Duece walked down to the Pale Horse, he thought he had seen the captain last night but couldn't be certain. Finding the ship was the easy part, but getting onto the ship was going to be a little tougher.

Grabbing one of the nearby porters "Can you get the captain for me? I'd like to speak to him for a moment." He said as he slipped the man a couple silver pieces.