Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (66 page)

round.”Our new captain was laughing, but he clapped Cudro’s

 

shoulder companionably. “Do na’ curse yourself, man. I’ve never sailed near the Mainor Terra Firma. I’d be lost there.” Cudro accepted this, but I could see that his self-esteem had taken a serious blow. He hugged a bottle and sat on a log and appeared close to tears.

 

“How long to reach Cow Island on your vessel?” I

 

asked.“She not be fast, and there be Spaniards to avoid, an’

 

storms; but ifthe winds be with us, which they almost always are goin’ west, I say maybe a fortnight and a half,” he said with a

 

shrug. “And when will your ship be repaired so that we might

sail?”I asked.
He smiled widely. “We plan ta float ’er tomorrow.
That’s what we be celebratin’ tonight.”
I thanked the Gods for the timing of our arrival. “So,
perhaps three weeks to Cow Island, perhaps longer?” I asked.
“Bythe end ofAugust?”
He nodded amiably. “Then we can all stay put ’til the
stormseasonpasses.”
I suppressed a sigh. I dearly hoped we could convince
Peirrot to sailnorthand awayfromthe storms duringthe autumn.
The truly great tempests were said to work their way up the
Florida and Carolina coast, though; but those were supposed to
be quite rare.
The musicians changed their tune, and I saw Chris
weaving away from the fire. Pete was still dancing. I excused
myselffromDonovanand companyand went to fetchChris. “I think I will be sick,” he said in a less-than-masculinesoundingvoice—and English.
“I think you are drunk enough to endanger yourself,” I
chided and guided himfurther fromthe others.
He promptly appeared alarmed and then sprayed the
nearest shrub withvomit.
“I should lie downnow,”he said weaklyinthe aftermath. “After you drink some water.” I led him to the log
Gaston still sat upon, and helped himease down behind it. Then
I went to our boat and retrieved our bags. When I returned, I
stowed everything behind the log and handed Chris our water
skin. He drained it. I took it back and wondered if they had a
water barrel; and ifso, where?
Gaston took my hand before I could go in search of it,
and pulled me down to sit beside him. He appeared happy and
peaceful, but also watchful.
I sat close and kissed his cheek. “How are we?” He smiled. “I am well. However, I do not think we will
see England before spring—ifthen.”
“Do not saythat,”I sighed.
“I willnot speak ofit, then, but we shallsurely live it,” he
said witha grin. “And I amwellwiththat inallbut one matter.” “Our loved ones?”I asked.
“Oui,” he sighed. “They will not know what we are
about, and they will have long to wait. I was thinking that your
babes will be born in the spring. I was wondering how big they
will be when we finally see them. And Athena will likely be
walking before we ever meet her. Jamaica will be two this
December.”
“We willsee themnext year,”I promised.
He shook his head. “Not if we cannot guarantee their
safety.”
“Oui, but…”
He put a finger to my lips. “Oui, this will not kill us; and
we willgo as slowlyas we must so that it does not.” “I love you,”I whispered to his finger.
Pete staggered over. “WhereBe…?” he stopped when
he spied Chris lying in the sand behind the log. “NeedTaTeach
’ImTa’Old’IsRum.”
I was tempted to say that Striker had excelled at that
occupation—and look where that had gotten them—but I kept
my mouth shut on that facet ofthe problemand showed another.
“Whenhe is drunk, he forgets he does not speak English.” “ThatBeAProblemThen,” Pete sighed; but his mien was
forgiving as he eased over the log and pulled a blanket fromtheir
bags and tenderly tucked it around Chris’inert form. Then he lay
down beside his matelot and stared up at the stars. He arranged
his weapons around him. “YaTwoBeSober?”
“We willkeep watch,”I assured him.
“Good, TheseBeFineFellas, ButWeKnow’EmNone.” I chuckled and looked about. The musicians were
wrapping their instruments, and some of the men were finding
hollows to sleep in. On another log, Ash was apparently
attempting to console Cudro, who was apparently only
interested in the bottle of rumin his mouth until our beloved and
confused Honest Ash put his hand down his man’s pants. Our
big Dutchman then apparently decided there was more to solace
than a bottle, and allowed Ash to lead him into the shadows of
the woods. I noted a few other pairs had done the same. I
considered sticking my hand down my matelot’s breeches and leading himinto the woods, but found I had an empty water skin
inmylap. We had duties.
Donovan wandered up. “Ya two want the rest?” he
proffered a mostlyemptybottle.
“Nay, we willkeep watch. Is there water?”I asked. “Ask Stinky, he an’ RainyDayBillbe onwatch,”he said
and touched his hat in salute before stumbling off to find a place
to sleep near the hullofhis ship.
Witha shrugto mymatelot, I went and found Stinky. “How is it you have never run afoul of the Spanish while
inthis condition?”I asked witha smile.
He laughed and finished loadinga musket. “Donovanhas
a sense about such things, and he seldomlets us at the rum. And
Spaniards don’t sailat night, not alongthis coast.”
“I am reassured, then. Donovan said to ask you about
water, and to tellyouGastonand I willalso be onwatch.” “Good, good,” he said. “We two will be watchin’ the
sea; whilst you and your man would do a good turn by watchin’
the forest iffn’ ya don’t mind. I don’ think we’ll be able to rouse
anyone ta relieve us.”
I agreed, and he led me to their provisions and told me
to take what I needed. I filled the water skin. ThenI tripped over
a crate ofsurprisingly-firmand shinyapples. I selected two. Gastonwas as surprised as I was withtheir condition. “It
pays to
trade
withthe Spanish.”
We made sure the fire was banked and burning low, and
thenwe took up our weapons and turned our backs onthe camp
to wander out into the darkness. Soon our eyes became

accustomed to the dimmoonlight and the night seemed filled with

accustomed to the dimmoonlight and the night seemed filled with the roar ofsurfand snoring behind us, and the calls ofnight birds in the trees ahead. Gaston led us up onto an outcropping ofrock that overlooked the camp, and we sat with our backs to one

another.“Perhaps we should take turns sleeping,” I whispered in

French. “We will have to assist in the moving of that behemoth tomorrow—if it is done on the morrow.” I chuckled. “I have my doubts about our sailinginthe morning.”

“I have never been drunk enough to dance,” Gaston said wistfully.
“Do youwishto remedythat?”
“Not if it leads to me lying helpless on a beach on a Spanishisland,”he said. Thenhe shrugged. “That is the root ofit: I have never felt that safe, or been that trusting—except with

you.” “Aye, I recall seeing you drunk enough to vomit on Striker.”“I do not remember that,”he said.

 

“Probablyfor the best.”

He was silent for a short time, and then he asked, “Why were youangrywithChris?”
I had to think to recallwhen I had been angry with Chris —tonight. “Perhaps youshould drink more,”I teased.
He waited, and I knew I would not escape. I sighed and thought onit.
“Because he said what I felt and knew I cannot say,” I said at last.

“You wish to forgive your father?” Gaston asked with

“You wish to forgive your father?” Gaston asked with incredulity.
“Non,” I said quickly, only to realize that was not correct. “I meant I do not wish to go to England, either; not on this pretense or any other. I wish to sail along tropical coasts with you at my side forever, perhaps. But… Now that you ask that, perhaps that is true, too. If my father would only offer me some reason, and attempt to make amends as your father did, then perhaps… Truly, I have never wished to hate him. I have always beenconfused as to whyhe hates me.
“But I cannot conceive ofthat occurring, and so I willdo as must be done. It is not revenge as I feel Chris thinks it is, though. That is a thinghe does not understand.”
Another thought occurred to me. “I used to hate myself for
forgiving
Shane.”
Gaston turned and kissed my shoulder. “My Horse still wishes to usher you through the Gates of Heaven in their presence, and show themhow muchyoucanbe loved; but it is a fantasy. They would never understand. They would only see carnallust.”
“I think that is whyI pitythem,”I said.
“I pity them as I always have: for losing the opportunity to know and love you.”
An old fantasy of holding a pistol to Shane’s head and hearing himbeg for forgiveness flowed through my thoughts, but it seemed a sorrythingnow:the overly-indulgent imaginings ofan angry youth. I imagined we would see one another, he would regard me with surprise, and I would shoot him in the eye; and, as he slumped to the ground, I would feela sense ofloss. as he slumped to the ground, I would feela sense ofloss.
“We willsee what England brings,”I sighed.
“Inthe spring,”mymanteased.
I gave a disparagingsnort.
Inthe morning, the menofthe
Fortune
were slow to rise as expected. Gaston and I—who had taken turns napping— were the spriest of the lot. Cudro and Chris looked as if they wished to die and might do so at any moment. We plied them with water and sat them in the shade. Pete did not even choose to tease them, though he did spend a little time speaking with

Chris. The sun was well up when Donovan managed to

harangue his crew into setting up the winches. We were all expected to take a turn. I was concerned about Gaston attemptingsuchexertion, but he was concerned that he would be perceived as a laggard if he did not try. He did quite well for a few minutes, but then my worry was proven correct when he began to cough and had to step away and catch his breath. As the line was taut, and I was on the same turn, I could not abandon my post to go to him; all I could do was increase my efforts to compensate for his lack.

Donovan dove onto Gaston’s bar. “Is he well?” he asked ofme as we pushed.
“Nay, he was shot and nearly drowned in our escape fromTortuga,”I said.
“Thenhe should sit!”Donovansaid.
I chuckled between breathes. “He did not wish for you to think poorlyofhim.”
Donovanswore.
Donovanswore.
My matelot was soon able to prove his worth, however, when the Colonel received a nasty gash on his arm when a line snapped. Gaston gleefully made much of stitching the ragged wound closed, and Rodent—who as carpenter had been acting as their surgeon—was greatly relieved there was someone to deal with bloody messes, as he apparently despised that part of his duties and professed to know little ofit.
My only other concern during the day was Chris. He took a turn at the windlass and performed better than I expected, though it was obvious Pete was doing much of the work for both of them. When they finished, Pete had to help Chris into the shade.
My heart clenched when Donovan remarked, “Pete’s Cub be a daintything, ain’t he? He be built like a girl.”
Thankfully, I had oft considered what I would say when presented with such inevitable observations. “Aye, he is small, and weak, and it gives us concern. We did not think he would fare well at all here, but he refused to return home. Damn fool youth. He has spent his days riding horses and tavern wenches, and now he thinks he is old and brave enoughto see the world.”
Donovan chuckled. “We were all right fools at that age, weren’t we?”
I laughed. “I know I was. I left my father’s house and traveled Christendomwhen I was no older than he is. I was a bit taller, though.”
“Aye,” Donovan said with a shrug. “Short men be stubbornbastards, though.”
I saw no doubt in our captain’s mien, and I judged that
I saw no doubt in our captain’s mien, and I judged that hurdle apparently cleared. Once again, I was amazed at the blindness ofmen.
I was also amazed that we managed to get the
Fortune
back into the water before the afternoon storm rolled in. By the time it beganto rain, we had proventhe
Fortune
was once again seaworthy—or at least that she could float and the repaired sectionofher hulldid not sprout leaks. As no one wished to load the two cannon and mound of trade goods during the rain, we sat about under their improvised shelters or on the ship, and ate apples and shared a few bottles ofwine, while the sky thundered and dripped.
Our new vessel was indeed an ugly thing. She was a round-keeled tub of a brigantine and looked to be of Spanish design:not onlywas she less than gracefulto the eye, she looked as if she would rather bob about on the water than cut through it in the manner of a vessel that wishes to actually go someplace. And with her lack of keel, I thought it likely that under good sail she went sideways as much forward. Still, at two-score feet long and over ten feet wide, her whale-like belly could hold a great dealofcargo.
She was quite suitable for Donovan’s smuggling and trading ventures—as long as she need not flee anything: a thing I could not believe she did not have to do on occasion. I thought Donovan fortunate indeed, or perhaps he knew something of the Spanish we did not. He surely was capable of trading with them without beinghanged.
There was no revelry that night; instead, paired men availed themselves of one last chance at privacy before we returned to living aboard a ship. Gaston and I were no exception.
As we lay entwined in the afterglow, I tried to console myself concerning a lengthy stay on Cow Island. Gaston and I had enjoyed many firsts there, and delightful days and nights on lovelybeaches. ThenI realized a troublingthing.
“I do not feel we shall be able to slip away for weeks at a time as we have in the past,” I said. “Not unless we take Chris and Pete with us.” I told him of my conversation with Donovan, and finished with, “I think we will need to help keep the ruse alive and watchfor possible dangers.”
He sighed. “Then we shall take them. I was just thinking of that lovely cove we lived on the first year. Do you remember that night whenI impaled myselfuponyou?”
I laughed. “My cock remembers it well: you tightened about me like a noose.”
We chuckled and cuddled together until my cock and aching body decided they were willing to do all the work once again.
Our labor the next daystarted early, and thus bythe time it rained, we had actually set sail. With her hold filled, the
Fortune
rode low and heavy in the water. She still towered above, and felt huge and palatial in comparison to, our forlorn, stolendinghy—whichwe left beached inthe cove.
With only eighteen of us aboard, there was more than enough deck space for all. However, we six newcomers were low in the pecking order, and thus we were not given the pick of the planks. We were happy to take the bow, though; as most of the rest of the crew was amidship or further astern, it allowed us some privacyfor Chris.
Unfortunately, it did not afford four of us any privacy
from
Chris—or Pete. We soon discovered how intent the Golden One was about gentling his cub down. Gaston and I often ended up at one another after listening to Pete and Chris rolling and groaning about in the shadows. Cudro and Ash often chose these times to go aft and socialize with the rest of the