Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (67 page)

crew. In truth, we all spent a great deal of time with the rest of

the crew, even Chris—while ever at Pete’s side—to insure that there were no missed grumblings or gossip about our French youth. There were none, even when Chris menstruated halfway through our voyage; a thing we had long worried about it. Between the general stench of men, our being at the bow and thus our smell rarely being blown toward the rest of them, and the regular presence of gutted fish amid ship where the cook fire was, no one noticed the smell of his blood. It reeked to me, and I could not conceive of how they could not know, but they did not. For four days he changed his bandages as he must, rinsed them in a pail of seawater, and emptied it over the side every night; and none seemed the wiser. I supposed much of their obliviousness could be credited to their lack of knowledge of women. Truly, none of Donovan’s crew had ever been married or spent time around a woman since leaving their mothers’ knees.

We sailed for three weeks without event other than the occasional pause in our voyage made necessary by a strong storm. We reached Cow Island inthe last week ofAugust.

There were eighteen vessels in the bay on the lee of the island; none of them appeared to be Peirrot’s
Josephine
. Donovan and Cudro named most of them before we had even rounded the reefs. The largest was Morgan’s flag ship, the
Satisfaction
—the poorly-captured French frigate that had once been called the
Cour Volant
. Bradley’s
Mayflower
, on which we had sailed under Striker’s command one year, and Norman’s sloop, the
Lilly
, were also present.

Donovan chose to anchor well away from the other vessels. He would not announce that his ship had rum, wine, apples, and grain for sale. If he did, or if Morgan learned he had a hold full of victuals, the provisions would be requisitioned for the good of the fleet and the defense of Jamaica. Instead, the
Fortune
’s crew had a cunning plan—one they had used before —of
trading
discreet amounts with other vessels over the course of the fall. Foremost, this meant they allowed no one else ontheir ship, and told no one ofwhat she actuallycontained.

Knowing this, our cabal of six had discussed what our plan should be in accordance with what we found on Cow Island. Now that we saw there were no French—as of yet—I looked to my friends and received grudging nods all around. I sighed: I had really hoped we could go ashore and escape for a time.

I approached Donovanafter we were wellanchored and he was preparingto go ashore. “Since no one else willbe able to claimthe prize for bringing me here,” I began. He grinned. “And since the Frenchhave not arrived, yet; we were wonderingifyou and your men would mind if we stayed aboard—with none the wiser—until either the French arrive, or we have great reason to believe theywillnot. Iftheyarrive, we willwishto speak to them first; but ineither situation, we willwishfor youand your crew to receive Morgan’s offered reward—just not yet.”

He nodded. “I think that a fine plan. Let me discuss it withmymen, though—lest someone become confused and bollix the matter.”

As expected, the good crew of the
Fortune
—who obviously felt more loyalty to one another than to the Brethren fleet—was quite happy to consider us as part of their cache. Thus we sat our arses back on the planks and forlornly watched canoes and boats row fromthe ship to the shore and back again. I thought it better we were prisoners here, by our own choice, than Morgan’s
guests
for whatever reason he might have for trulywantingme here.

Donovan was a feast of interesting news when he returned. We all gathered around to hear that the fleet had only arrived a few days ago. Morgan had sailed from Port Royal on the Fourteenth under a commission from the council of Jamaica to make war against the Spanish. Apparently two Spanish ships had harassed the coast of Jamaica in June, pillaging and burning a few small plantations. The Spanish commander had nailed a declaration of war to a tree—along with several buccaneers. Morganand Modyford finallyhad their war.

Needless to say, I was not pleased.

 

Afew more ships arrived over the following days—none of themFrench. Toward the end of the first week of September,

 

Morgan sent Captain Collier of the
Satisfaction
—the same

Morgan sent Captain Collier of the
Satisfaction
—the same Navy bastard who had commanded the ill-fated
Oxford
and survived its demise with Morgan—off to raid for provisions with half the ships present and about four hundred men. Morgan let Collier take the
Satisfaction
while he moved his flagto the
Lilly
. Bradleyand the
Mayflower
went withCollier.

We continued to sit. Though in the first days we had pined for the shore, by the second week we realized that being the skeleton crew of ship in the bay afforded us far more privacy, fewer concerns, and a lack of sand in our linens and hogs’ fat—a matter of infinite annoyance when one trysts on beaches. When we wanted grit, we paddled a canoe out to the sand bars of the reef for entertainment. From there we taught Chris and severalmembers ofthe
Fortune’s
crew to swim. And out ofboredomand a sense ofduty, we swabbed the decks and assisted with mending rope and sails. By the end of September, time had fallen away and we drifted in the hands of the Gods, waitingto see what Theywould deliver next.

The night of the Fifth of October, I woke from a fitful slumber to find Donovan pacing the deck. In the dimlight of the one lantern, I could see Harry the Quartermaster watching his friend and captain. Donovan went below and I could hear his boots as he walked the lengthofthe hold.

I went to joinHarry. “What is amiss?”
“Youtoo?”he asked. “It be Donovan’s gut.” “Indigestion?”I asked. “I believe mymatelot has…” “Nay, nay. It be a feelin’ in ’is gut. ’E says God an’ the

angels speak to ’im through it. An’ it be no jest. ’E can hear

 

storms onthe wind an’ Spanishonthe waves.”

storms onthe wind an’ Spanishonthe waves.”
“I have wondered at your good fortune in dealing with
the latter,”I said.
He nodded. “Donovan can smell a bad one. ’E feels it if
theybe lyin’an’na’the trustworthykind. An’there be times ’e’s
seenreefs that were na’ onthe charts. We onlytook damage this
last time on account o’ us bein’ stuck between a storm an’ a
Spanish ship. We could na’ go where we wished ta avoid it.
Better the rocks thanthe noose, I always say.”
“I agree. So he feels something this night. Has he said

what?”“’Edoesna’ know yet. That’s whyhe be pacin’.”

“Were youhere the night the
Oxford
blew?”I asked. Harrylaughed. “Aye, anwe weren’t on’er.” “Neither were we.”
“Someone feelit?”he asked.
“Nay, it is more that we were angry about the treatment

of the
Cour Volant
– and Striker did not wish to attend the captain’s partywithout his matelot.”

“Ah,” Harry said. “So it be because you be true members o’ the Brethren.”
“Aye. The Wayofthe Coast served us wellthat night.”
Donovan had re-emerged on deck. He noticed us and came to sit. “I dreamt o’ a storm,”he said witha worried tone.
We looked at the clear skyand bright stars overhead.
“Theycanrollinquickly,”I offered.
“Aye, aye,” Donovan said. “An’I got that poppin’ in me ears. It either be a storm, or somethin’ else bad comin’ our way.

Maybe an earthquake. Maybe the Spanish will attack. It’s na’

Maybe an earthquake. Maybe the Spanish will attack. It’s na’ like theydon’know o’this place. An’’ere we be, allbottled inta this bay, without our big ships an’ guns.” He shrugged irritably. “Or maybe Morgan’s threatenin’ ta do some dastardlything.”

“Should we sailabout a bit?”Harryasked. “We’ve been talkin’ o’ offloadin’ inthe cave.”
Donovan nodded. “Aye, let’s sailat first light.” He stood and walked forward a little before returning to us. “I count eighteen. So we all be aboard, ‘les one o’ these lumps na’ be ours.”
Harrychuckled. “Theyare iftheybe aboard.”
“What cave?”I asked.
“There be caves along the cliffs,” Harry said. “We got one offa good cove that we sometimes stow cargo in.”
“What willyoutellMorgan?”I asked.
“The truth,” Donovan said. “That me gut say there be trouble on the wind. I’ll tell ‘im when we get back. Iffn’ I be right, ’e might na’ be ’ere ta tell. Iffn’ I be wrong…” He shrugged. “Well, let ’imthink I be a fool. Won’t harmme none. Might evenserve me purposes.”
I grinned. “It is probably best to have the man think you a fool. I distrust himbecause he does not think I amone.”
“Ah,”Donovansaid. “That explains much.”
I returned to my man—who was lying awake wondering at myabsence—and told himofDonovan’s gut.
“Ifwe had animals aboard, theycould tellus ofa storm,” he mumbled sleepily.
I took his proffered hand, but remained sitting. I listened to the night around us. The breeze was pleasant, but fitful; as if it to the night around us. The breeze was pleasant, but fitful; as if it could not decide which way to blow. The
Fortune
creaked beneath us as she always did. I could hear or feel nothing, per se; yet, I at last came to surmise there was something odd in the night:myHorse felt it.
I prayed to the Gods, each in turn, asking for the brand of protection for which each was renowned. I spent a long time beseechingPoseidon.
In the morning, we sailed as soon as it was light enough to see the rigging. We slipped out of the bay and swung wide around the reeftoward the northofthe island. The sunwas good and risen by the time we reached the cove and cave on the island’s northern shore. We began offloading cargo. At noon, Chris ran down from the precipice where we had sent him to stand watch.
“There’s a storm coming,” he reported—to me—in French.
I relayed the message to Donovan and Cudro and they clambered up the north side of the cove wall to look east. They returned withgrimfaces.
“We need to finish an’ beach ’er!” Donovan yelled. “It be a big one. We canna’ stay in this cove. We’ll be dashed ta bits. An’ I don’t fancytrustin’ our anchor ta ride ’er out.”
We finished as quickly as possible. We could all see the black swath of clouds crossing the eastern horizon fromnorth to south when we cleared the cove. Donovan chose the closest stretch of sandy beach and ran the
Fortune
aground. We were feeling the first of the giant storm’s winds as we winched our vesselfurther toward the trees and made her as fast as we could. vesselfurther toward the trees and made her as fast as we could. Then we took our weapons and possessions and made for higher ground by guttering torchlight. We stopped when we found a thick stand of trees. We forced our way deep into them and looselylashed ourselves to the trunks.
“Will this truly be necessary?” Chris asked as Pete looped rope about his waist.
“Oui,”I answered.
“Youhave had to do this before?”
“We weathered a bad storm on Negril from within a stone-walled cottage—half of which was buried in a hill. I thought it was goingto be torndownaround our ears.”
Pete, who had begun to understand a surprising amount of French, wrapped his arms tightly about his matelot and said, “It’llBeFun.”
I thought ofbeinglashed byferocious winds and rainand shook my head; until I recalled our voyage back from Maracaibo when we had been forced to ride out such a beast at sea. Gastonhad lashed us to the railing and we had fornicated as ifit had beenour last moments amongst the living.
Gaston settled in behind me as was his wont whenever we sat close together. I turned to him and whispered, “Do you recall the storm after Maracaibo? Perhaps we should exchange places, as I willhave to do allthe work.”
He frowned, and then he too remembered. His grin said all I need know about his thoughts on the matter as he exchanged places withme.
Soon the wall of the great tempest reached us and the wind tore at the trees and the rainbeganto pour. It was too dark to see the others; though I knew if I stretched my arm I would encounter Pete and Chris on one side of us, and Cudro and Ash on the other. Sadly, my first concerns were not about amorous activity, but about keeping my matelot warm. Then I decided trysting might indeed be the best way to do that: however, I did not know how we could maintain that activity for the many hours the stormwould last. Stillit would be a good start.
Thus we slowly worked our way up to storming Heaven —with far less vigor than the tempest was storming us. It was warming, and provided some satisfaction and the usual pleasure in the end; but the effort paled in comparison to our deathdefying tryst at sea. Perhaps it was because I did not fear death in this instance. Gaston seemed warmer and satisfied, though; and I let the other thoughts drift away as we cuddled together and tried to rest.
Then the storm hit with all the fury of the Gods in the middle of the night. It became hellish. All was darkness. Despite being blunted and deflected by the trees, the wind wanted to drive the raindrops through our skin as if they were bullets. We clung to one another and the tree. Gaston was the only thing that seemed real. I began to feel as if hundreds of hands were slapping and pulling at me. To my terror and dismay, they minded me ofThorp’s torture.
I felt myself slipping away, and I held Gaston even tighter; but the feel of his back firmly against my chest could not protect me. Then he was struggling in my grip. I fought him, deathly afraid he was being pulled from me. With a surge of strength, he fought me off and turned upon me. I was screaming, but I could hear only the wind. Light exploded in my head and the world went black.
When the blackness receded, the wind still howled, and the rain still lashed my arms and cheek, but the rest of me was safelyenfolded inGaston’s limbs. I felt the clamminess ofhis skin as I clasped his arm—and I felt him stiffen when I moved. I rubbed his skinreassuringlyand his tensionlessened.
His lips found myear and he asked, “How are we?”
I could barely hear him. My jaw ached, and little bits of something were beginning to crawl into the light. I shook my head helplessly, and felt even more lost when I knew the gesture was meaningless in our current situation. I turned to find his ear and yell, “I do not know.”
He squeezed me reassuringly and I felt him strain to be heard againover the wind. His first words were lost to it. I heard onlya “you”. Thenhe tried again, “Youwent mad.”
I recalled what I could and knew he was correct. I found his ear. “I amsorry.”
“Youare safe. Oui,”he yelled.
I supposed the “oui” was a question, but the inflection had been lost to the wind. I nodded and hoped he felt the