Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (64 page)

“Captain Cudro.” Our Dutchman said with a laugh. “I amwithout a ship at the moment.”
“Cudro? Did ya na’sailwith Striker? What the Devilare ya doin’ out in the water?” Captain Donovan yelled with amusement. “Ya alone?”
“Aye, I sailed with Striker—owned the
Virgin Queen
with him. And nay, I am not alone. We are sailing to Cow Island.” Cudro turned and whispered to me, “What do we say about the French? Theywillask how we came to be here.”
“That is a thing we should have perhaps thought of before we hailed them,”I said withsour amusement.
“So are we,” Captain Donovan called. “We came here first in search of victuals. We’ve been tradin’ with the Spaniards alongthis coast fer years. Callit a private hen’s nest, iffn’ya will. Thought we’d gather some food an’ rum an’ sell it on Cow Island while theybe waitin’to sail. But we got ina bad storman’ took some damage. Beencareenin’ here since.”
“Tell them we had a problem with a bit of debt on Tortuga,” I hissed to Cudro, “and we ended up sailing east to avoid trouble.”
“We were planning to sail with the French from Tortuga,” Cudro told the shore, “but we had a bit of trouble there and had to sail a little early—and in the wrong direction.” He gave an embarrassed and disarming chuckle that carried across the water.
“Well met, then,” Donovan said. “Yur welcome to our camp. An iffn’ we got the room, yur welcome ta join us ta Cow Island. Though we would be expectin’ coin if ya need food and rum.”
“Of course,” Cudro called. He looked back to our craft and whispered, “It’s now or never.”
“Aye,” I sighed and took the loaded pistols Gaston handed me.
There were nods allaround.
“We’llaccept your hospitality, then,”Cudro called out.
“How many o’ ya are there?” Donovan asked with

“Six,”Cudro said.
There was laughter fromshore.
“Who ya got with ya? Any that be known?” Donovan

asked.
“My matelot, Ash, Pete the Pitiless, Lord Will, Gaston
the Ghoul, and his cousin… Chris Sable,” Cudro called out after
some hesitation.
There was silence on the shore for a moment, followed
bya great dealofhissed conversation.
“Well, they recognized our names,” I said. “And what is
this
Lord Will
business?”
“That’s what people call you,” Ash said. “Behind your
back.”I could see the glint ofhis grinningteethinthe moonlight. “Lovely,” I sighed with amusement. I vaguely recalled
somethingofthat sort, but it had beenso longsince I need worry
about suchthings, I had put it frommymind quite happily. “ChrisDon’SpeakEnglish,”Pete said quietly. Chris regarded himwithsurprise.

Pete met his gaze. “TrustMe. BetterIfYaDon’tTalkMuchAnyway. YaBeAFrenchNoble.”
“Am I your matelot?” Chris asked with equal parts concernand warning.
“Aye, aye,” Pete assured him, “ButTaCoverFerYaNa’Bein’Like Striker, I’llBeSayin’SomeThings—InEnglish—
ThatYaMayNa’LikeHearin’. NoBlushin’ OrSnortin’ OrArguin’Like YaKnewWhatISaid.”
“All right,” Chris said with an assured nod. “I have played this game before. I used to pretend I could not speak French while visiting myAunt. That is how I learned a number of things from the servants. They would speak freely in front of anyone theythought did not understand them.”
“Good. ThatBeWhatWeWant’EreToo.”
We rowed the rest of the way to shore and quickly found ourselves surrounded, at a discreet distance, by a dozen men. Alanky, disheveled man with an eye patch and tricorn hat stepped forward and introduced himselfas Donovan.
“Ya be Pete all right,” a burly man said to the Golden One. “Where’s yur matelot?”
“With’IsWife,”Pete said.
There were grimaces, groans, and then laughter all around.
Donovanand a bald manwhose face was contorted with skepticismeyed Gastonand me.
“Ya trulybe Lord Will?”Donovanasked.
“Aye, I am.” I bowed and met their gazes levelly. “Why

They looked to one another and seemed to reach some accord.
“Morganbe lookin’ fer ya,”Donovansaid.
I was not sure if I was surprised or not. “When did you learnofthat?”I asked.
“It be allo’er Port Royalthis spring,”Donovansaid. “He were askin’men ta go and fetch you and the
Virgin Queen
from Tortuga. Said ’e ’eard ya be there from the French. Said ’e did na’ wishta sailwithout ya.”
“Did he say why?” I asked. It was nearly a pointless question: Morgan would surely never tell the buccaneer rabble why he wished to do anything. He viewed them as the Roman mob, a force to be controlled and wielded at his discretion.
“He says ya speak Spaniard like a noble, an’ ’e needs ya ta make ’im sound like a noble to the Spaniards,” Donovan said.
That sounded like a thing Morgan would say:and it even sounded like a plausible reason for him to want me with them while raiding—if one knew nothing of how I had departed Jamaica; of my father’s meddling with Governor Modyford; or ofMorgan’s wishfor me to help controlthe French.
The bald man next to Donovan was looking away in a dissemblingmanner.
“Did he offer a reward?” I asked, and was rewarded whenthe bald manflinched withsurprise.
Donovan scratched his head and appeared sheepish. “Twenty-five pieces above a man’s share fer any who brought ya to ’im.”
ya to ’im.”
“Sucha sum,”I said witha feigned appreciative whistle.
Beside and behind me, Gaston and my comrades were tense and quiet.
“And from any treasure gained and not his pocket?” I asked.
Donovanand some ofhis mennodded and grimaced.
It was interesting:ifMorgan had truly wished to have me captured, he would have simply placed a price upon my head and promised to pay it from his own purse. But nay, he was offering to allot money fromthe shared treasure; as ifby assuring or acquiring my services, someone was performing a notable service for the entire raiding endeavor. Money above a share was a thing paid for an act of bravery or in recompense for the expertise of a fine surgeon or pilot. And I felt that if Donovan and his crew trulythought Morgan’s request was against mybest interests, theywould have beenattemptingto over-power us and truss me up like cargo so that I could not escape. Instead, they were standing about looking a trifle guilty for even considering receivingadditionalmoney.
“Well,” I said cheerfully. “I will be happy to assist Morgan with his translation needs while raiding—as I always have; and to fight and serve as a good man in the fleet. And I am flattered he has offered money for my safe arrival; but, we were hoping to sail with an old friend of Gaston’s, Peirrot. And, since we have found ourselves insuchodd straits inthis strange land— on such a little boat—I am willing to give you what money we have in exchange for our passage to Cow Island. It is not the noble sum I could offer if we were anywhere near our gold,” I noble sum I could offer if we were anywhere near our gold,” I sighed and shrugged expansively. “Our fortune is on the
Virgin Queen
and bound for France as we speak—but it is hard silver; and you can have it in your hand tonight to divide as you choose: ifyouwillagree to take us to Peirrot onCow Island.”
Donovan and his men appeared quite pleased. I prayed my companions would keep surprise and dismay from their faces. Of course, with this plan, we ran the risk of Donovan’s men attempting to rob us if they thought we carried a great deal of gold; and in truth, we carried more than they could possibly make raiding with Morgan—unless of course he actually managed to take Cartagena or some such unbelievably wealthy Spanish prize. However, I thought we would risk more if they thought theyneeded to capture us to insure Morgan’s reward.
I glanced to Gaston, and found himcalmly pulling a coin purse from our bags. I suppressed a smile. The purse he had selected was his, and carried the money he used when in the market. Our cache of gold to hire Peirrot or another French captainwas hiddenawayinGaston’s medicalbag.
My matelot spilled the purse into his hand with a grimace. I saw a few glints of gold amongst the pieces of eight and other silver coins in the moonlight. I guessed the amount we were offering to be worth over ten pounds. It was not a princely sum, but a damnfine payment for these mento take us to a place they were going anyway. Gaston made subtle show of being reluctant to part with it as he stuffed the coin back in the bag and handed it to me. I tossed the bag to Donovan, and he and the bald mansmiled happily.
They gleefully offered us rumand fish stew. Then we sat
They gleefully offered us rumand fish stew. Then we sat in a cluster and ate and passed a bottle while they huddled beneatha torchand counted the purse.
“How much money did you give them?” Chris asked quietly—inFrench.
I told him.
“Do you have more money?” Chris asked—very quietly.
At my nod, he nodded. “I have more money than you gave them.”He frowned. “Willit be needed?”
I grinned. “Their ship is probably worth two hundred or so pounds. When Morgan raided last, each man gained a share amounting to around fifty pounds. So you see, it is quite the sum we have giventhemfor this purpose.”
Cudro was chuckling. “Oui, it will either keep them off our backs or at our throats, dependingonhow honest theyare.”
“Aye,” I sighed. “I thought of that, but I thought this best.”
Pete was frowningat us. Chris translated for him.
“We’llBeSleepin’InWatchesAnyway,” he said and took a good pullofrum.
“Aye,” Cudro said in English, “and I agree with you, Will. This way they should feel we hired them, and they’re workingfor us and not Morgan.”
“That is myhope,”I said.
“I amnot pleased Morganis seekingyou,”Gastonsaid.
There were sighs allaround.
“Neither am I.” I told them of my reasoning concerning that matter, and ended with, “and apparently he knew well where we were.”
“And he did not send men, nor did your father,” Cudro

shrugged. “At least we now know Morgan is truly gathering the Brethren on Cow Island—and that there are Frenchmen among them. We will have to question Donovan as to the ships anchored there.”

“What if your father has abandoned his attacks against you?” Chris asked. “Could you forgive him, as Gaston did his father?”

It was an astute question, yet it served more to remind me of how many conversations on this subject Chris had not heard—and that I had not told him fully of the abuse I suffered while abducted. Yet, what was that compared to Gaston’s mistreatment by his father over many long years—and the flogging? My father had never actually laid a hand upon me. Perhaps ifhe had, I might respect himmore.

I felt Gaston’s gaze uponme, and I turned to meet it. His regard spoke ofhis not caringhow I answered.
I looked back to Chris and spoke with annoyance. “It would take a bloody miracle. I will admit: strange things can happen; but I do not find it in my heart to forgive him. Whereas, Gaston had forgiven his father before his father
came to him
to make amends. And,”I continued withless rancor, “myfather is a verydifferent kind ofmanthanGaston’s.”
“And Willnever gave his father cause,”Gastonadded.
“And whydo youask this now?”I queried.
Chris sighed thoughtfully. “It appears our respite is over. I was contemplatingwhat we were trulyabout withthis voyage.”
Pete had pestered Cudro into translating for him, and he regarded his new matelot with a frown. “ThereJustBeThings ThatNeedBeDone.”
“I came here to killGaston for what he did to me,”Chris whispered inFrench. “I… let it go.”
I noted that he did not sayhe forgave mymatelot.
I stifled much of what I would say on that: we had already discussed that matter; or so I thought. Instead, I asked, “Why should you care if my father lives or dies? Or do you have another reason for questioning the intended goal of this voyage? A voyage, I might add, that youwere not invited on.”
“Oui, oui, oui,” he said with annoyance. “Allright, then:I do not wishto go to England.”
I snorted at his hubris. “Well, we shall see how you feel onthat matter after a week ofsailingwiththese fine men.”
“I do not know if I wish to do that, either,” Chris said sharply. “And oui, I amwell aware I have no say in the matter.” He stood and walked to the edge ofthe forest to stand and stare into the darkness.
“He is nothingbut trouble,”I growled inEnglish.
Cudro was finishing translating for Pete, who was glaring at Chris over his shoulder, and then at me, and then at Donovan and his men, and then at the heavens. He finally returned his gaze to me and growled, “IDidna’AskFer’Im.”
“I amnot blamingyou,”I said.
Pete cursed quietly. “I’dGoAn’YellAt’Im, ButThatWouldMake It Difficult ToTellTheseBastards ’EDon’SpeakEnglish.”
I snorted. “Aye, and I would go and yell at him, but that would make it difficult to tellthese bastards he is your matelot.”
“Well, I’mnot goingto go and yellat him,”Ashsaid with anamused shrugand another pullonthe rumbottle.
“He’s Gaston’s cousin,” Cudro offered while pretending to be very interested in the sharing out of the booty Donovan was doing.
I looked to Gaston and he shrugged. “What needs be said?” he asked with mild amusement. “He is unhappy about where we will be going. What is wrong with that? If any of us were truly happy about sailing into peril we would be mad. I am not mad—at the moment. So whyare youtwo angrywithhim?”
Pete leaned forward and glowered at Gaston. “ILike’Im. ButI’llBe DamnedIfI’llBeHitched ToACartWithAnother DamnIdiotIMustAlways ArgueWith.”
I could not suppress my amusement. “Wellthen, you are damned; and I suggest youlearnFrench.”
Pete swore and snatched the bottle fromAsh. He took a long pull, glared over his shoulder at Chris, started to stand— and stayed with us. He pushed his legs out and leaned his back onthe fallenlogGastonand I were usingas a seat.
“A weak matelot is not worthanything,”Gastonsaid.
“YouTwoDon’t ArgueAllTheTime,” Pete grumbled and heaved a resigned sightoward the heavens.
Gaston and I regarded one another. I could see him considering the question as I was. It was true, we did not argue like Pete and Striker had.
“We talk,”Gastontold Pete.
“Aye,” I said. “We discuss everything and decide on the best course of action. And if one of us does not like it… We put… the cart before our Horses.”
Mymatelot laughed. “Our Horses like it that way.”
“What does that mean?”Ashasked.
Donovan and his men were joining us with happy smiles and waryeyes.
“I willexplainlater,”I told Ash.
“Well, let us tell ya who we be,” Donovan said. “I be Captain Donovan. This ’ere be me quartermaster, Harry the Hairless,”he pointed, ofcourse, to the bald man.
He then proceeded to point at each of the remaining ten men and give a name and position on the ship. Thus we learned their cook was a wizened old fellow by the name of Stinky, and their carpenter was a hawk-beaked and tall fellow who went by the name of name of Rodent. The rest were counted as ablebodied seaman and held no title as pertained to their vessel. They all possessed some form of moniker, though, above and beyond their names: thus we met a heavily-scarred man called Cutlass Corky who was famous for taking a particular Spanish ship—Cudro and Pete had actually heard the story; a short and stocky man they called the Colonel who had served in the English Army—and killed an officer, purportedly by accident; and a handsome fellow they called Great Prick, or just Prick for short. This fine gentleman happily dropped his breeches in explanation, and we toasted his enormity and admitted his name was indeed apt. And as Rodent was his matelot, we toasted his