Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (65 page)

good fortune as well.

 

good fortune as well.

Once we had finished their introductions, I understood that anyone sailing with Donovan and his men should best enjoy having a moniker. This was apparently not to tellone Harry from another or disguise a man’s Old World identity—the reasons many of the Brethren had pet names—but because Donovan took great delight in them. Their introductions had included anecdotes ofwhythe maninquestionwas named as he was, and how soonafter meetingDonovanhe had received his new title.

Then it was our turn. Cudro had already told them our names, to the extent it cost us a purse, but now we were expected to introduce ourselves and say some little thing as they had done. After all the social occasions I had introduced myself at over the years, I found myself dreading this turn before the crowd. I could not understand why. I wished to think on it, but there was too muchnoddingand smilingto be done. So I looked to the others, and found themlookingto me.

Chris had thankfully rejoined us, and Cudro and I had made much of translating all that was said so that he could smile politely or laugh at some joke. I had to admit, Chris was quite accomplished at the game. He did not betray his knowledge of English in the slightest, even after he began to sip the rum. Now, however, he appeared quite panicked.

Pete, normally a truly bombastic individual at such occasions—though nowhere near the showman Striker was— appeared deep in the rum and yet still angry about something— Chris, I supposed.

Gaston was relying on me, as he ever did in these

 

situations due to his reticent personalityand brokenvoice.

 

situations due to his reticent personalityand brokenvoice.

And Cudro seemed reluctant to take the lead for some baffling reason. And Ash was obviously deferring to his matelot —the CaptainCudro.

I felt like a forest creature surprised by a lantern as I looked about the fire lit circle ofglassyeyes and tight grins.
“Come now, we already know who ya be,” Donovan cajoled.
Nay, he did not
, my Horse thought with curious stubbornness; and I realized that was myconcern:I was not who these men thought, and I did not know if I wished to portray myselfwithtruthor a lie. Nay, I did not wishto lie.
I stood, brandished the bottle, and took a preparatory swig. “Well, Cudro introduced me as Lord Will when we arrived, but that is not a name I have chosen amongst the Brethren. It is a moniker bestowed upon me due to an accident ofmybirth.”
Theylaughed at this, and I relaxed into their regard.
“I am no longer a lord,” I continued. “And I truly no longer wish to be associated with the facts of my birth. I prefer to go simply by the name of Will, as that is the name my matelot bestowed upon me. But after hearing your fine names… I find myself wishing for something a little more colorful and representative of my nature. But as I have not had occasion to give it thought, I do not know what that willbe as ofyet.”
“Youdon’t get to name yourself,”Donovansaid.
“Willthe Barrister,”the Colonelsaid. “’Etalks like one.”
“Ulysses,” Chris said with his best male voice—after

Cudro finished
translating
for him.

Cudro finished
translating
for him.
I regarded himsharply and spoke French. “Non, I have
used that before:never again.”
He shrugged and replied, “I thought it appropriate.” “Herakles,” Gaston said. “You are no longer Odysseus,
youare now Herakles.”
“What’d’EDo?” Pete asked. “NoWait,
Ain’t’EAConstellation? ThenThere’sThatOtherOne, Oriun.” “Herakles—or Hercules as the Romans called him—is
the son of Zeus by way of one of Zeus’ many mistresses. This
angered Zeus’ wife, Hera, and she tormented Herakles
throughout his life, making him perform many great labors to
assuage her,”Gastonsaid.
Donovan and his men had grown quiet, and thus they
heard my man well enough, but once he finished, they erupted
with a question asked by several mouths. Their captain waved
them quiet and asked it succinctly with great amusement. “I’ve
heard of this Hercules, but what has your man done to deserve
such a title? What great labors has ’e performed? And wasn’t
this Hercules renowned for ’is strength?”
“Well, I amnot renowned for mystrength,”I said. “Nay, but for your constitution, aye,” Gaston said. “I
have never met a harder manto kill.”
“IDon’KnowNothing O’ThisHeraklesGreatLabors,
ButIKnowWill,” Pete said loudly with a grin that could scare any
pack of wolves. “’E
GotTwoWominPregnantWithoutLyin’WithEitherO’’Em,
An’’EGoesOffTa FightWolvesThe WholeWorldBeScaredOv.
’EDon’ShootMenInThe’Ead, Naw, ’EShoots’EmInTheEye. ’EDon’ShootMenInThe’Ead, Naw, ’EShoots’EmInTheEye. ’EToreTheEyesOutta ’EmChainedAn’Beaten. E’erMetAs’IsMatelot, TheLastManThat’Ad
An’ETookTheMaddestManI An’Made’ImSane. CaymanCan’tEvenKill’Im, An’MorganBeAfraidO’’Im.” “And that is all God’s honest truth,” Cudro said and toasted me witha bottle.
I laughed, because… well, it was true, and when a man is praised inthat wayhe had best accept it graciously. The rest of the men were laughing as well, and Donovan called out, “Well Hercules Will it is then, an’ we best be hearin’ these tales as we sail.”
“Well, if I am Hercules, then this is his stalwart companion and teacher, the great physician, Chiron the Centaur.”I pointed at Gaston.
“What be a centaur?”one ofthe menasked. “HalfManHalfHorse,”Pete said.
“That does sound better than Gaston the Ghoul,” Stinky the cook said. “No one wants a surgeon called the ghoul: it just don’t seemright.”
“Um… I heard he weren’t called the Ghoul on account o’ ’imbein’ a surgeonor physician,”Harrythe Hairless said. “Nay,”Gastonsaid, and theyquieted to listen. He smiled at them. “I was called the Ghoul because I arranged the bodies ofthe dead.”
“Why?”Great Prick asked.
“Because I was mad,” Gaston said. “But now I amsane because ofHercules here.”
There were cheers allaround.
There were cheers allaround.
Pete stood and pushed me heartily so that I sprawled
between Gaston’s legs. “NowSitDownStrongMan.
Let’sGetThisFinished.”
“I laughed. “How muchhave youhad?”
“Enuff! IBeDrunk EnuffTaDance, An’IWould’Ear
SomeMoreO’These FineMen’sFiddlin’An’Pipin’.
IBePeteTheLionHearted. AnybodyWantTa ArgueWithThat?
’CauseIBeDrunk EnuffTaFightToo.”
No one did, and I was sure there was a Spaniard
somewhere along this coast wondering why he heard laughter on

the wind.“This’EreBeMyNewMatelot,” Pete continued when the

mirthabated somewhat. He pointed at Chris.
“This will be a test,” I whispered quickly to Chris in
French.
“I can see that,” he replied with a worried frown, though
he did award Pete a grimsmile for our audience. “Does he often
get this drunk?”
“Non, he usually allowed Striker to do the
lion’s
share
oftheir drinking.”I chuckled.
“’Ow did a wee lad like that become a buccaneer?” one
ofthe menwas asking.
“How did he become your matelot?”Stinkyasked. Pete grimaced. “Well, ItBeLikeThis. StrikerGotAWife.
SheBeAFineWoman. ButTheBedNa’Be
BigEnuffFerTheThreeO’Us.”
I frowned up at him, wondering how much of that was
truthand how muchbluster.
He ignored me. “IWereNa’Lookin’ FerAnotherMatelot,
ButThis’Ere BeGaston’sCousin, JustOffThe ShipFromFrance.
’EDon’EvenSpeak ProperEnglish.”
“Neither do you,”Cudro rumbled.
Pete walked over and kicked at him until Cudro was
forced to retreat witha heartylaugh.
“EnuffO’That. SoGastonAskedMe
Ta’ElpLookAfter’ImSome, Teach’ImAThingOrTwo,
Teach’ImTheWayO’TheCoast.” Pete’s leer left no mistake as to
his meaning. “SoIDid, An’IFoundThat Na’OnlyCanThe
LittleBuggerShoot, ’E’sGotManyAFine TalentAManLikeMeCan
Appreciate.”
In the midst of my sincere mirth at his quite convincing
tale—truly, everyone present was bent over with tears in their
eyes—I hazarded a glance at Chris who sat behind me with
Gaston who was dutifully translating all Pete said. I was not sure
what was more amusing: my matelot’s diplomatic actual
translation of Pete’s innuendos, or Chris’ laughter—which might
have beenengendered bythe same.
Chris awarded Pete a very erect middle finger, and the
Golden One’s face broke into a truly happy smile and he
pounced upon his matelot. I was very pleased when said matelot
tumbled off the log with an almost masculine grunt and did not
squeal like a girl. The kiss Pete bestowed upon him, and Chris’
response, gave me pause and mycock rise.
“What is he called?”someone was yelling.
“The Brisket?”Gastongasped withamusement. “Non, non,”I said quickly, “I willnot be explainingthat.” “We’ve just beencallinghimChris,”Cudro supplied. “’Ow about Pete’s Cub,” Donovan suggested
enthusiastically.
“Aye, ILikeThat!” Pete came up for air to shout.
“ThisBeMyCub.” He pulled himself to his knees and leaned on
the log. “Now, ThatBeCudro An’’IsCub, Ash.
WhyYaBeCalledThat?” he asked Cudro. “KeepItShort,” he

added.Cudro stopped laughing and attempted to compose

himself. “Well, the first raid I went on, I was told to go and find all the valuables in a plantation house. While other members of the crew were tearing apart jewelry boxes and sideboards, I found a roomwithpaintings—fairlygood ones fromwhat I could see—and I thought I had found great treasure. I began to collect it all, only to be attacked by the housekeeper. She was screaming at me about the “cuadro”—the pictures. She tried to stab me and I shot her. Then, of course, I emerged with my treasure and got laughed at by the entire crew. They had no interest in art. My captain teased me for being a true idiot to shoot an old woman over a stack of worthless paintings, and the crew began to tease me by yelling,
Cuadro
,
Cuadro
, whenever I came near. It got shortened and stuck.”

“ThatWeren’tShort, ButItWereAFineStory,” Pete said witha loud guffaw.
All agreed that Cudro’s name was very fine indeed, and thenalleyes turned to Ash.
He was busy laughing at his matelot, as he had apparently not heard the tale, either. He sobered when he realized it was his turn, but he took the bottle and stood to salute everyone. “I am Ash. It doesn’t mean anything. It is truly my surname. I do not feel I have done anything to warrant a fine buccaneer name—or evena bad one.”
I thought of all I knew ofAsh. He was a gentleman. Hs father was a planter. He had come to sail with the Brethren rather than be sent off to England to study the law. I laughed. “He chose to be a buccaneer rather than study the law,” I said. “Make ofthat what youwill.”
“I would say that makes him an honest man,” Donovan said. “Honest Ash.”
Ashbowed and laughed.
“Enuff!” Pete bellowed. “Let’sDance! Lessin’YaAllBeTooTired…”
There was much guffawing at that and their musicians struck up a lively tune. To my further amusement, Pete then dragged Chris into the circle near the fire and taught him to dance a jig.
I abandoned all hope of garnering any information about the ships already at Cow Island—or anything else of import. It was to be a night of revelry; and I prayed only the Gods heard our cavorting.

One Hundred and Seven Wherein We Cannot Hide from the Beast of Many Heads

Though we had imbibed enough to make us tipsy, Gaston and I chose to refrain from any additional rum after it became apparent our comrades were quite intent on becoming insensibly drunk. The space around the fire became divided: the men who wished to dance went to the south where they could wade—or fall—into the cooling surf as they needed; and those not inclined to such physicalexertion moved to the north, and sat around on logs with their backs to the forest. Gaston and I joined the latter, and I was pleased to note we were not the only ones that chose to eschew the rum. If the Spanish arrived, at least a few menwould have the presence ofmind to run.

Amongst those not inclined to dance were Cudro and Donovan. I was pleased when the lanky captain joined us. Despite my earlier concerns that such matters would have to wait, we were able to ask what he had heard of plans for raiding against the Spanish. He reported that Morgan had sent men to Petit-Goave and Cayonne to invite the French.

“Has he made any announcement as to his target?” I asked.
“Nay,” Donovan said. “But I only know what I do on
“Nay,” Donovan said. “But I only know what I do on account of my bein’ friendly with Captain Norman o’ the
Lilly
. Norman says Morgan wants a truly big prize. ’E be tellin’ ’is friends this be the last. ’Ewants ta be famous fer alltime fer it.”
“You do understand he does not care how many of us die inthe process ofhimbecomingfamous?”I asked.
Donovan chuckled. “Is that na’ the way o’ all great

men?”“The ones written about in the histories, aye,” I said with a smile.“I don’t know if I’ll be sailin’ with ’em,” he said. “Me

boys an’I beentalkin’. Some o’us are gettin’too old fer makin’ war on the Spaniards. There’s good money ta be made tradin’ with ’em. Most times, it’s easier and less dangerous. An’ the trulygreat treasure takenfromthe fleets be a thingofthe past.”

“Amen,”Cudro said witha sighand took another pullon the bottle. “We made more money trading with the Carolina colony this spring than we made raiding Maracaibo last year. And no malaria, and no Spanish blockading harbors, and no torturingpeople to find their jewelry.”

“Aye, aye,” Donovan said. Then he frowned. “So why ya be goin’ ta Cow Island?”
Cudro looked to me. I suppressed a sigh and glanced to Gaston. He shrugged.
“Gaston and I are pursued by troubles from our former lives,” I said. “There is a matter we must attend to in England, but before we could arrange to go there, we ran afoul of the French.”
“The Brethren?”Donovanasked witha worried brow. “The Brethren?”Donovanasked witha worried brow.
“Nay, the Catholic Church,” I said and watched his expression.
He did not appear to be daunted by the Church. He grimaced comically and took a pull on a bottle. “I hate the damn churches. Allo’ ’em.”
“Those are mysentiments,”I said.
“So ya be seekin’ Peirrot?”he asked.
“Aye, to see ifhe willtake us to England,”I said.
He nodded thoughtfully. “That makes a good deal o’ sense then. Morganwon’t like it none.”
“I do not live to please the man,”I said.
Donovan laughed. Then he shrugged. “So ya were runnin’fromthe French, an’that’s whyya be takin’the longway aroun’ Hispaniola. I were wonderin’.”
“It has proven to be the longer way,” Cudro said. “How far fromthe southeasternpoint are we?”
Donovancleared a little space and used a stick to sketch a rectangle with a deep indentation on one end, and a great protrusion on the other. As if someone had take the middle of the island and pushed it east while leaving the top and bottomof the box in place. Then he drew a small island very close to the end ofthe upper armofthe great U, and another toward the end ofthe southernarm.
“That there be Tortuga,” he said and pointed at the upper islet. “An’ that be Cow Island.” He pointed at the lower circle.”
Cudro had had grownverystilland he swore quietly.
“Where are we now?”I asked withamusement.
Donovan made a little X on the bottom of a little protrusion of land above the big protrusion. I laughed: we were barely a third of the way around the island. Worse yet, the mountainous peninsula, upon whose southern shore we now sat, was the northern leg ofa great deep rectangular bay, that—ifwe had not heard their piping—we would have sailed into for another severaldays and beenforced to sailout offor the rest of week. And we still had the great hump of land to the east to round.
“OhGod, Will,”Cudro said. “I amso sorry.”
Donovanregarded us curiously.
“We did not steal a chart when we stole the boat,” I said.
Donovan’s craggyface split into a wide grin. “Ya did na’ know the island? An’ ya be sailin’ about it ina dinghy?”
Cudro swore. “That dinghy was the best we could steal. And nay I do not know this side of the island. I have never had occasion to sail here. I have sailed all over the damn West Indies, but not here. And most buccaneer ships I’ve been on have not had charts for this or the Porto Rico to the east, or… anything except the passage from Barbados to Jamaica. Every time I’ve seen this damn island on a map, it’s been shown as