Raised By Wolves 1 - Brethren (24 page)

This remedy made a good deal of sense to me, and I eyed my wine suspiciously. It had been doing little to slake my thirst or ease my suffering. I either required a far stronger drink or none at all.

“I would be with them, too,” Tom said. “But my uncle insisted I accompany him and meet the local gentry. He also wished to gain your introduction, as he feels I was fabulously fortunate to have the honor of traveling with you,” he said with a sarcastic flourish.

“Will there be fawning?” I asked with a grimace.

“As if you were in the forest at springtime,” Tom said.

We all laughed, but I sobered quickly. “Well, perhaps we should get this over with, then, so that you may return to Harry.”

“My uncle is yonder, speaking with Morgan,” Tom said.

At the sight of the so-called admiral of the buccaneers, I turned to Bradley with a smile. “Did you know you have an admiral?”

Bradley sighed. “Aye, of sorts. He was a favored student of Mansfield and his uncle was the Lieutenant Governor – and well, Modyford adores him. So he has the job of organizing and leading the buccaneers as a whole; not that anyone wants to listen to him as yet. Don’t be fooled by all of that. He’s a good man, and a smart one. He has a talent for leading and for battle. He’s also a friend.”

I nodded respectfully. So Morgan did possess a degree of credibility amongst his peers. We joined Morgan and Tom’s uncle, a florid man of great girth and thick lips. He did indeed fawn in quite an embarrassing fashion, and I had to pull free of his grasp several times. Morgan was initially annoyed with this, until he spied Bradley and Siegfried in my wake.

“Don’t tell me you two have taken to worshiping the nobility too,”

Morgan said, as the uncle babbled on contentedly about something I was not listening to.

I glanced back in time to see Bradley smirking. “Marsdale may be sailing with us.”

“What?” Morgan scoffed. “Do you think that wise?”

Thankfully, Morgan’s poor bride had met the eyes of the uncle and was now caught in his trap. This left me free to take a half step back and engage in the other conversation.

“Why would it not be wise?” I asked innocently.

“It’s a hard life,” Morgan said.

“Ah yes, so I have been apprised. I was told I may have to curtail my usual entourage, and the accommodations are quite poor, and there will be none of the little crullers I so enjoy.”

He glared at me briefly before hiding it behind a pleasant chortle.

“You have quite the sense of humor, Lord Marsdale.”

“Aye, I should hope it will serve me well as I lie dying of the flux while the ship is being careened.”

Bradley and Siegfried were laughing now, and Morgan realized he did not know how to consider me; though he obviously liked me even less.

“I hope it will serve you well, that and courage, the first time you face the Spaniards.”

“Are they so horrible?” I asked. “I have never harbored a particular dislike for them.”

“They will kill you if you let them,” Morgan said.

“As long as they die when I shoot them, we shall get along famously.

I have never feared the dead, or had quarrel with them for that matter.”

“So you feel you possess the proper mien to become a buccaneer?”

Morgan asked.

“From all that I have heard, aye.”

“There are no women on the ships, and we do not offer commissions.”

“Excellent and excellent.”

His gaze narrowed and I felt all eyes upon me. “It will be interesting to hear your opinion this time next year,” he finally said.

“It is always interesting to see who Dame Fortune favors over time.”

He took his leave. As he walked away with his little bride I labeled him a wolf, albeit a self-made one. There was a roughness about his manner and speech that told of an upbringing without nannies and tutors. He assumed I was not someone who could ever affect him greatly. He was not the first of his kind I had encountered. Coming up from the realm of sheep as they do, they often make that mistake about the wolves they seek to emulate.

As I looked about, I was pleased to note the uncle had been distracted as well. I was left with Tom, Bradley, and Siegfried again. I bid Tom farewell for the evening, and bade him carry my best wishes to the ailing Harry. Once he was gone, I turned to Bradley and Siegfried.

“All duties now done, I wish to retire from this place. What plans do you gentlemen have for the remainder of the evening? There is actually a matter I wish to seek your advice and aid on.”

Bradley was regarding me with amusement. “We were going to a tavern; you would be welcome to join us.”

“I would be delighted.” As I turned, I discovered Belfry hovering at a socially polite distance. “As soon as I talk to this man.”

Siegfried indicated something across the room and I glanced in that direction along with Bradley, in time to discover one of the eligible young women beginning to escape from her knot of admirers.

“We’ll meet you outside,” Bradley said, and they were off in pursuit. I wondered at this, but there was obviously no time to question it.

I joined Belfry. “And how are you this fine evening? I am glad you were able to attend the party.”

“As am I, my Lord. It is a blessed relief to step on dry land sometimes. Tonight I will even sleep in a real bed.”

“You are staying in town, then?”

“Aye, my Lord, I have to prepare the cargo for loading tomorrow afternoon. We have a limited time at the wharf.”

So Davey’s rescue definitely had to be affected this very night. My stomach clenched and roiled, and I felt sweat bead on my forehead anew. I hoped fervently that Bradley would agree to aid me, as my body was going to be an unwilling participant in any endeavor I mounted.

“So did all of the officers come ashore?”

“Just the captain and I for the party, then he will return to the ship.”

I exchanged further pleasantries with him and bid him farewell once more, even though I harbored the suspicion I would see him again. I was actually grateful it would not be this night, though, as I wished poor Belfry no ill.

I located Theodore, and he followed me outside. His man Samuel was waiting, with an urgent note from another client. I began to shed clothing and accoutrements at a speedy rate and hand them to the unfortunate Negro, until my attire was reduced to shirt and breeches.

At which point I strapped my sword back on and stuffed my pistol in my belt. I handed Samuel a small coin. “Please return those to the house, or toss them in a midden heap. I care not. I am not feeling particularly charitable towards them at the moment.”

Bradley and Siegfried had joined us and witnessed this exchange.

Samuel regarded me with wide eyes, and Theodore had to give him approval and shoo him away.

“You don’t understand the basic principles behind slavery, do you?”

Bradley asked. “You don’t have to pay them.”

“True, true; but what I do not understand about slavery is why he does not kill us in our sleep. I would.”

Theodore was sighing heavily, with his head thrown back in supplication to the heavens. We left him there. Several blocks down Thames, as the main thoroughfare running parallel to the bay was named, we turned left through an archway and entered a short alley between two buildings. I spotted a likely shadowed spot that reeked of urine, and asked which tavern they would be in. They said they would be in the Three Tunns, the building on our left. Once I finally made my way inside, I found them at a table in the back with two other men. I resigned myself to waiting, and shook hands with a Captain Searles and a Frenchman named Pierrot, who I assumed was another captain, though he was not introduced as such.

Pierrot was a big man of middle age with dark Gallic coloring, expressive eyes, and a Roman nose. He possessed one of those visages that could change from the melancholy of an old dog to the jocularity of a court jester in the blink of an eye. I supposed that was why he was called “clown.”

Searles was even brawnier, with a square face, small eyes, and a forbidding attitude. At the moment he was ranting in a booming voice.

He barely slowed down to receive my introduction; Bradley quickly handed me a tankard and waved me into a seat as the man continued.

“And they’re off at the King’s House celebrating the arrival of some damn Lord’s whelp,” Searles was saying. “And I’ve got men to feed. Not that I even know I want to risk bringing another prize in. That bastard Modyford. Oh, the King said this and oh, the King said that. And that fucker Willoughby. Oh, we’re here to claim this victory for the King.

And Morgan’s a good man, better than his uncle at being a buccaneer, but for Christ’s sake he’s a whelp. The French won’t sail with him. Will ya?” He turned on Pierrot, who gave him an amused shrug. Bradley and Siegfried were laughing.

“What’s so damn funny?” Searles demanded.

Bradley pointed at me. “The English Lord’s whelp.”

Searles looked me over and took a swig of beer. He snorted and shrugged. “Doesn’t look like I expected.”

“He’s going to sail with us,” Bradley said. I was interested in noting that we had progressed quite handily from the potential of my sailing with them being merely discussed to it being a known fact.

“Listen, Searles,” Bradley said. “I know you’ve been ill-used by the local government, what with them seizing the prize last year and all.

But I have faith that business has all changed to our benefit, especially with the war.” He shrugged apologetically at Pierrot. “And Modyford not wanting us to take our prizes to Tortuga. So I’m going hunting the Flota this summer. You will do whatever you wish. When the war clears up, we will sail again for bigger plunder, under Morgan, whelp or no.”

Searles sighed heavily and looked distantly across the tavern, as if seeing rolling waves and not a wooden wall. “Aye, aye… All is as you say, but damn it man, the life is hard enough without… “ He nodded to himself and looked Bradley in the eye. “Damn it all, I want to trust my government, or have none at all.”

Bradley nodded sympathetically. “That’s why we buccaneers have to stick together. As one, there’s not a force on this sea that can stand against us. Separate, we’re just pirates running from port to port trying to stay off the gallows.”

They all looked thoughtful for a moment. Then Pierrot toasted, “To the Brethren of the Coast!”

We all drained our tankards.

I was, as always, plagued by questions and further bothered by the lack of opportunity to ask them. Thankfully, Searles took his leave shortly thereafter, and I was able to give the other men a questioning look.

Bradley said, “The King has not always been sure how to address the issue of war in the West Indies with the Spaniards. Or more specifically, he’s not sure what his ambassadors should be telling the Spanish court as opposed to what he wants from his own colonies. So the governors here have received contrary orders, sometimes only months apart. All in all, they want us here to defend them, but they don’t want us to draw Spanish wrath; and then they want the prizes, but they don’t want to condone piracy, and so on. So when Modyford arrived in sixty-four, he thought his duty involved putting an end to privateering, and he seized several Spanish prizes brought to port, including two of Searles’. Then England was at war with the Dutch, and everyone was issued marques against them, and Searles and Stedman sailed for Tobago and took it.

Three days later, the governor of Barbados shows up and claims that.

They had to argue to keep the booty. The man has good reason to be angry.”

I grasped the situation quickly, as I had seen others like it. “So there is a chance you will sail, and while you are away, the rules will change and you may not have a safe port to return to.”

“Aye, we often take that risk when we’re roving for months at a time.”

“And how fare the French?” I asked Pierrot.

He shrugged. “Our leaders are somewhat more consistent. But Île de la Tortue has changed hands many times. I think it will remain French now, and our King will support privateering without second thought or doubt. But who can truly tell? If a treaty is needed….” He held his hands up to indicate it was in the hands of the fates or at least the powers that be. “Of course, we take a risk whenever we sail here. I was amazed when Modyford offered us a marque, but we’ve been sailing out of Port Royal for a year now, prior to the war.”

“There are French buccaneers on many of the ships. Dutch, too,”

Bradley added.

I nodded. “So in some ways the Brethren of the Coast truly transcends nationality, and perhaps national loyalty?”

“Oh, by all means.” Bradley grinned. “Most men here have no love of the nation of their birth, or often it of them. That’s why they’re here.”

“Are you loyal to your King?” Pierrot asked.

I shrugged. “I grew up during the Reformation. I have traveled Christendom for the last ten years and seen no consistency of government, other than it is always controlled by the powerful for their own ends and they use the weak to do their fighting.”

Pierrot nodded approvingly. “You will do well here.”

“Aye, I feel so, but I am somewhat dismayed to hear that some things are very like where I have already been.”

Bradley frowned, but Pierrot shrugged and grinned. “Here the weak have weapons.”

I smiled back, but I was thinking that armed sheep can still be herded: it is in their nature. The talk turned to other things, and another ewer of beer was ordered. Eventually Pierrot bid us adieu. I quickly seized the opportunity.

“I have a matter that requires urgent attention this very night.”

Bradley and Siegfried regarded me with surprise.

“We are at your service,” Bradley said curiously.

I explained about Davey. They exchanged a long look and Bradley spoke. “We have no qualms about helping a sailor jump ship, but it would present a real hornet’s nest if the ones doing it were apprehended.”

“Aye, I was thinking a tactic of distraction might be in order if that were to occur,” I said.

“How important is this man to you?” Siegfried asked.

“He is merely an acquaintance; one I feel some responsibility for, wholly of my own making. I know it may seem quite the endeavor for an acquaintance but…”