Buxacan Spicerunner

by Goodwin, Warren;

  This didn’t sit well with Gomeneg, of course. Dason was forced to stop the constant wrangling over who would cook for the Crew ashore by declaring Stess Roundyellow was their baker. She made outstanding pies.

  Gomeneg had nothing but criticism for Stess Roundyellow’s baked goods, but was caught more than once sneaking away with an extra piece of cake or pie. For her part, the old woman was quite emphatic in stating that everything Gomeneg touched was swill, but she always cleaned her plate.

  The men began to keep score of the insults and betting on the daily totals. “This is disgusting; can I have more?” became the most popular catchphrase among the Crew.

  Sako flexed his toes in his new boots and scowled at the gangway. Everyone knew they were to sail in an hour, but he was still waiting for his last three men. Balgo and Olik had been aboard all week, but were now out searching the taverns. The carpenter had failed to show up.

  According to Bist, there had been sharp words between Sturo and his father the first night they’d been home. No one knew the whole story, but Sturo had not returned to the shipyard. Instead, he drank. Drinking wasn’t quite the problem—all of the men drank quite a bit. It turned out that Sturo had become a very mean drunk.

  Sturo had provoked a duel with the bartender at the Sail on the Horizon Tavern and killed the man. He’d also beaten up one of the girls from the Row. When Dason forbade him from visiting the cathouses, Sturo had attacked him. Fortunately, no weapons had been drawn and they’d been separated before real damage had been done. Sturo had also been thrown out of the Treasure Chest and Danno had restricted him to two drinks after some trouble at the Dalarian Arms. Sturo’s response had been a curled lip.

  Ten minutes before the Spicerunner was to sail, Balgo and Olik finally dragged him onto the ship. As soon as he was released, he took a swing at Sako. He was a good fighter, but he was no Hargen Stowe and Sako put him down in short order.

  “Lock him in his cabin, and see that he only gets water to drink until morning,” Sako ordered.

  The Spicerunner put out as gracefully as a dancer, making for the southern Chains. The plan was to catch something small out of Sevulia. A nice cargo of sugar or cotton would make a solid haul without keeping them at sea too long.

  The next day dawned cool and clear, with a freshening breeze that promised smooth sailing and hot weather to come. Sturo was released from his cabin and came up on deck feeling like stut. He heaved his guts over the leeward rail and went back below. Sako watched coolly from the helmdeck. Probably looking for a drink.

  Gomeneg was still making breakfast and the new hand they called Big Lunch was assisting. Both were aware that Sturo was forbidden anything stronger than beer. Sako waited. The ship’s bell rang, indicating watch change and breakfast.

  Hargen Stowe had always expected to be fed first, but Sako took the opposite approach. When everyone else on deck went below to eat, he stayed up with the oncoming watch. Even then, it was standard practice on the Spicerunner that only those absolutely necessary to keep the ship on course would remain on duty and eat later.

  Today, Sako took the wheel and Jikver Eleren was at the masthead. Aler was teaching Tesser the ropes, Xo Hav and Qi were flemishing line amidships, and Naffen was fishing. Sako’s stomach growled. The only meal for which he always joined the Crew was dinner.

  When a head appeared above the hatch coaming, Sako was surprised to see Big Lunch instead of Sturo. The enormous man was a top-notch fighter and knew his way around the guns, but at over four hundred pounds, wasn’t much use aloft. Fortunately there wasn’t much need for that—most of the sail handling was done from the deck on the Spicerunner. Big Lunch carried a platter with mugs and sandwiches. Sako smiled. Gomeneg hated to serve his food cold.

  Having been instructed by Gomeneg on Sako’s habit, the heavy man served the others first. The problem of feeding Jikver at his duty post was solved handily by Tesser.

  He took a deadeye from stores and a light line and swarmed up the rigging. He secured the deadeye to the edge of the fighting top and fed the line through. A basket was found and secured to one end of the line, and Jikver hauled up his breakfast.

  Sako liked that. Not just food, but ammunition could be hauled up that way. He made sure that everyone on deck could hear him praise the idea. Tesser beamed. Big Lunch brought Sako his breakfast. The sandwich was a hard-fried egg with bacon, and the mug held coffee.

  After a quick check of the binnacle, Sako tied the wheel and sat down to enjoy his meal. He smiled again when he crunched into the bacon.

  Most of the livestock pens forward were full, but the Crew had drawn the line at pigs. Instead, one of the Freshboxes was loaded with pork products. The other was stuffed with cheese and perishable vegetables.

  Thinking of the Freshboxes made him smile again. He’d sent to the Maker in Ariton for a large Freshbox for the Arms. The Reefwalker would arrive in Port Buxaca before they returned, so Sako would miss his parents’ reaction. It was frightfully expensive. Sako had had only enough money left for a single new shirt and a six-week supply of cigars.

  Some of the faster eaters came up on deck, and Sturo was with them. Sako’s smile died as the carpenter came to him. He looked angry and filthy.

  “Cook tells me I gotta see you if I want a drink,” he growled. “Who made you my wet nurse?”

  “Sturo, I’m not here to tell you when or how much to drink, unless you can’t do your job because of it,” Sako said patiently. “But you can’t fight Dason, or me for that matter, just because you’re drunk and in a foul mood. You want to skip a cruise or retire; you need to let me know first, so I can find a new carpenter.”

  “A new—! You’re replacing me, are you?” Sturo was outraged. “We’ve been friends a long time, but this ‘captain’ stut is going to your head!”

  “Dammit, we’re not replacing you unless you request it! You’re the finest carpenter I know, and I am still your friend. But if you keep this stut up, your only friend will be rum. You want a drink? Fix something! You want another? Fix something else! Two swallows per repair!” Sako took a deep breath and visibly calmed himself. “That’s letting captain go to my head, Sturo. Just show up on watch on time and do your job, and you can have all you want, just like anyone else.”

  Sako sipped at his coffee, but it had gone cold. “The story around the docks is that you had words with your father. That’s none of my business, but here’s a few things you missed in port because you were looking in the bottom of the bottle. Dason’s mum is angry with him and won’t even look at me for letting Tesser join. Arno’s da is regretting the last harsh words they ever had, because they were the last words ever. And did you see Vord come down to greet us when we came in? Neither did I. Brog doesn’t mention it, but he spent the night every night right here on the Spicerunner. Everyone deals with their problems in their own way. You want to drink. That’s fine, just do your job.”

  “Anything else…sir?” Bloodshot eyes stared defiance.

  Sako lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “Did anyone sit next to you at the table?”

  “No…”

  “You smell like an Agresian, Sturo. We do have sailor soap aboard.”

  Sako’s friend whirled and stalked away.

  Sailor soap was what the first Buxan immigrants to Sevulia had called the long-stalked plant the natives had used for bathing. Unlike regular soap, it lathered well in salt water. Everyone but Agresians used it while at sea. They considered it unmanly and bad luck to bathe between ports.

  Three weeks out, they took the Spaniel, a Sevulian out of Gateway bound for Jono City and Tevon. The cargo was unremarkable: farm implements, blacksmithing tools, some clothing and building supplies. But there was a fair amount of coin as there were three passengers who’d paid in advance. All three were worth ransoming.

  Elwin and Ella were the twin sixteen-year-old children of Lord Arvin, a wealthy plantation owner in Sevulia. The other passenger was Lord Falero, the twenty-year-old son of Duchess Lisavon
of Jonos and thus the nephew of Queen Bontina herself.

  They sent the Spaniel on with the ransom notes. They were asking for five thousand crowns for each twin and ten thousand for the royal nephew. The Spaniel was to meet the Spicerunner at coordinates one hundred miles east of their current location in three weeks. The Smilers cruised around, looking for more trouble.

  The hostages were given free run of the ship in daylight and locked in one of the cabins at night. They ate with the Crew, and sat near Sako at dinner. Sako was polite but distant. They were his guests but not his friends, though it was hard to remain aloof when Ella smiled at him. She was charming in an innocent way, and it was obvious by the second day that she had a crush on Dason.

  Falero was quite jealous. He’d thought he’d had her attention before the Smilers had interrupted their voyage. Elwin privately thought that anyone—even a pirate—was more acceptable than Falero, who was an arrogant fop.

  It didn’t take long for Falero to notice that the girl’s eyes were always on the First Mate. He began a campaign of insults and verbal slights. With anyone else there would have been an altercation if not actual violence, but Dason usually had a diplomatic response or a joke.

  Sometimes the response was a veiled reference to the young man’s effeminate nature, which the sailors always caught before Falero did. The Jono had had enough when Ella had laughed at the most recent comment.

  “It’s a shame I can’t challenge sea-scum,” Falero said quite loudly to the twins. “I’d show him a thing or two about the steel of Jonos! But the base iron is beneath me, and convention says I can only challenge within my class.”

  “Sailors of enterprise are the lords of the Buxacan Sea,” Dason said to Mosaca Tomanaro, with a sidelong glance at the overdressed nobleman. “Amongst my own kind I am a prince—heir to all that can be seen. It’s fortunate that landlubbers fear to challenge, because I’d get choice of weapon. The only way the duel could be fair would be for me to go unarmed against his weapon of choice!”

  The men howled.

  “Ain’t that the valling truth!” said Stutmouth.

  But Lord Falero wasn’t amused. “You take that back!” he screeched. “You have no idea how well I can fight!”

  “Wasn’t necessarily referring to you, my lord.”

  “Yes you were! You meant me and everyone knows it! I’ll kill you for this, knave!”

  “A duel! A duel!” the men chorused.

  Elwin looked sick and Ella clung to him fearfully.

  In his cabin, Sako looked up from his charts, curious at the commotion.

  “Alright,” said Dason. “Our rule says duels are to be fought ashore, but we can fight now. Someone give him a knife.” He turned back to the Jono. “To the third blooding only, my lord.”

  “Agreed!” Dason drew his knife, and Chos handed one to Falero.

  “Don’t get this tangled up in your ruffles, now.” Jono noblemen wore shirts and short jackets instead of the vests the commoners wore. Falero’s shirt had a lot of lace at the collar and cuffs. He ignored Chos’ barb and concentrated on Dason. He squeezed the hilt like he held a stick.

  “Please don’t kill him, Ster Nive!” Ella said.

  “Don’t worry, love.” Dason glanced at the way Falero held his knife, smiled and contemptuously tossed his blade aside. The men cheered and Ella screamed as Falero rushed Dason.

  Sako heard the young woman’s plea quite clearly and ran out on deck to see what was going on. He was just in time to see Falero strike.

  The nobleman might have agreed to the ‘three blooding’ stipulation, but he apparently wanted the first blood to come from Dason’s throat. Dason blocked him at the wrist. In two moves, the sailor of enterprise disarmed his opponent and threw him to the deck.

  He used Chos’ knife to draw three shallow scratches on Falero’s forearm.

  The men counted each wound aloud as it was made. “ONE…TWO…THREE!”

  Dason got up and tossed the knife to Chos, then helped the Jono to his feet. Handshakes and a rum bottle made the rounds, Falero included.

  “You are a man,” Dason said. “You stood up, even if you lost.” He offered his hand. “I’m sorry I slighted you.”

  But the young man refused to shake hands. “I’ll not apologize!” he said with a sullen glare.

  “Your blood is apology enough.”

  “What’s going on here?” Sako asked, as if he’d just arrived.

  The Crew went silent.

  “Aren’t arguments to be settled ashore?”

  “This needed settling now,” said Dason. “We’re too far from shore.”

  Sako nodded his acceptance, and turned a mild gaze on his hostage. “My lord, I would not have expected such a breach in manners from a man of your breeding. You are a guest on my ship, however unwilling. When does a guest challenge his host to a duel? I’m afraid that if you cannot deal with my crew in a civil manner, I’ll have to confine you to your quarters for the duration of your stay. Am I understood?”

  “I am the Queen’s nephew!”

  “Bontina is not my queen, nor are we anywhere near her realm. Even if we were, you are aboard my ship—and here my word is law. I could hang you by your heels from the main boom and have my men pelt you with cow stut if I wished.”

  There were several chuckles at that.

  “Can you speak civilly to my men?”

  “Your uncouth brutes are incapable of speaking civilly to me!”

  “They’re not required to,” Sako said simply. “For the last time, will you comply?”

  “I will not.”

  “Olik, take him to his cabin. Carry him if you have to.”

  After that, Ella could always be found near Dason. She was quite impressed with his merciful treatment of her erstwhile suitor.

  Dason wasn’t made of stone, but he didn’t want to take advantage, either. Ella’s advances steadily decreased in subtlety. She went to her brother after a week, and Elwin quietly let Dason know that whatever happened would be with his approval and silence.

  “There was this young Countess in the City of Taya…Ella won’t tell my father about that. The least I could do is return the favor.”

  That night Ella came to Dason’s cabin. Dason closed the door and fished out a half bottle of wine. “There’s no mug or glasses, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s fine,” she said, and took a healthy swallow. “This is from my father’s vineyard.” She took another sip and handed the bottle back. Her cheeks flushed prettily.

  Dason had some wine and put the bottle aside. He pulled her close and they kissed long and deeply. Then she stepped back and very deliberately undressed. When she was done, she leaned in for another kiss. Her curves were modest but enticing and very firm.

  Dason let his hands roam up and down her back. Her skin was very soft.

  “Have you known many women?”

  “A few.”

  “I have never known a man.” Ella sat on the bunk and looked him in the eye. “You will be my first.”

  “We may never see each other again after your ransom is paid. Are you sure you want me to be the first?”

  She reached up and began to unbutton his vest. “Very sure.”

  The Smilers arrived at the rendezvous to find the Royal Navy Frigate Wasp, with sails furled and a white flag displayed. The signal flags said: ‘Here to pay ransom for Lord Falero’

  Sako ran up the Bloody Smile and put his men at the ready. Falero was brought up from the hold. He’d rebelled as soon as Olik had locked him in his cabin and had broken some things.

  For that Sako had him chained in the deepest hold. He was filthy and showed evidence of rat bites. Falero blinked uncontrollably in the strong sunlight. They closed to hailing range, and a boat came over from the Wasp. The lieutenant in charge passed up a chest containing seventy-five hundred queens, and Falero was handed down.

  “I will see you all hanged for this,” Lord Falero threatened weakly.

  Sako just laughed. He waited
until the boat was being hoisted up before he put on sail and turned away. Sako would sail in a large circle that would put him back here in one day.

  Wasp headed northeasterly, with the intent to cross into the area patrolled by the Sword’s Edge. Together they could capture the black-hearted bastard who’d dared to seize and torture a member of the Royal Family.

  The Spicerunner and the Spaniel met in the same way at the same coordinates. Lord Arvin came over on the boat and paid the ransom himself. The reunion was tearful but relieved. His children were safe. “Which of you is Sako Pizi?”

  “That would be me, my lord.” Sako bowed politely.

  Lord Arvin looked him up and down. His expression gave away nothing. “I don’t know whether to thank you for not harming them or curse you for taking them in the first place.”

  “Both, my lord. It has been a pleasure, having them aboard. Your son and daughter carried themselves with great dignity and character. They were quite polite to me and my men, in spite of the circumstances. You have much to be proud of.”

  “Thank you,” Arvin said grudgingly. “I must say that you are not the monster I envisioned.” He cleared his throat. “However, I must warn you that I will be giving a full description of you and this ship to the proper authorities, both at home and in the Empire. It is my duty.”

  “I understand completely, my lord. But for now, you and your children are free to go. I wish you a safe voyage.”

  Lord Arvin looked at him strangely for a moment, then followed his children over the side to the waiting boat.

  Maybe he didn’t want a safe voyage .

  The Spicerunner headed due south until the Spaniel was out of sight, then came about and headed for home. Sako was pleased. A short cruise, zero casualties and an excellent haul. Let’s see if StrongArm was right about more recruits.

  42

  Thirteen Twists