“Hold your course, Master Green. Take us back to Port Royal. I don’t think the Thunder Cay will be going anywhere,” I overheard him say as he patted Green on his back and turned to Willy, who was seated on a barrel outside of the Captain’s quarters.
“So, I suppose you’ll be wanting your ship back, then?” Rasmus asked him.
“Ye outta yer fuckin’ mind, Red? She’s all yours, lad—I mean, Cap’n,” Willy said with a smile and an outstretched hand, which Rasmus shook with honor.
“Gentlemen, it seems I’ve taken a hit here. May I leave ye to see to the injured and the clean up? Green, how many have we lost?” he asked solemnly. He held his shoulder and glanced about the main deck.
“Four. I will see to them, Captain, and we shall have a burial as soon as they are wrapped.”
“Thank you. I’ll join you immediately after I’ve seen to this wound.”
“Captain!” I called when I caught up to him.
“Little Ivan Razor, we don’t have a surgeon aboard, but we have a host of injuries. Would ye, by chance, be able to take care of this little scratch for me and help see to the others?”
“I’d be happy to, Captain and I can have the girls assist with the injured as well. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
xxx
Once inside the Captain’s quarters, Rasmus sat down at the desk, and I helped him slide his arm out of his shirt. The hole through the meatiest part of his shoulder was still bleeding, and I cleaned it with fresh water and soap. I’d mended the girls quite a few times over the years, but I had no idea what to do with a wound like this. We had been fortunate, at least, to live near a civilized town with an actual medical doctor, so our worst injuries had been tended to properly. Rasmus seemed to know just about everything and mending a man’s flesh was no exception. With impressive patience, he led me through sewing his wound shut.
“Grab that rum over there,” he said, removing his shirt and tucking it under his arm. “Did Barclay have any medical supplies at all?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I answered. He told me to pour the rum over the open wound. Then, he snatched the bottle from my hand and took a long drink.
“Now, more water to rinse it well. I’m sure there’s a sewing kit somewhere in his wardrobe trunk. Bring it to me.” I found the small box containing needles and cotton thread, and I winced at the thought of pushing it through his skin.
“Light that candle, and then hold the needle in the flame before you start. The fire will help the needle pass through my skin.”
Rasmus watched as I did what I was told and then said, “Just like shaving, lass. Steady that hand. Remember, you’re not sewing on a button or mending a hem. Just get it closed on both sides and wrap it tight.”
“I’ll take this kit with me to help mend the rest of the injured, if that’s agreeable with you,” I said when I’d finished mending him.
When I was through, I rummaged through Barclay’s things and found a shirt large enough to fit Rasmus and helped him slip it on. He showed me how to make a sling for his arm to help keep it still so he wouldn’t reopen the stitches I’d put in.
“Come here to me, little Razor,” he said as he leaned back in his chair. I walked over to him and he took my hand and pulled it to his lips. I stroked his wild red mane away from his face and then tied it back for him. “We’ll be back in Port Royal by nightfall. When we arrive, I’ll find lodging for you and the girls at some place respectable. I’ll secure the room for as long as you need it.”
“What about the Demon? She’s yours, you know. You can do whatever you like with her,” I said. I slid onto his lap and laid my head back against his good shoulder.
“You want me to keep her, don’t you? Never mind, you don’t even need to answer that. Pull the top drawer of the desk. There’s a book inside you need to see.” I did as he instructed, and found a leather-bound ledger. I flipped it open and my back stiffened.
“Wait, what is this?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
“It’s exactly what it appears to be, lass. It’s a log of every girl Barclay ever took, along with who she was sold to, when and where, as well as which merchant companies allowed their ships to be used in the trade.”
“I want them all. I want every last fucking one of them, Razz,” I said. I turned each page and found the names, ages, and even a listing of hair and eye color of young women from as far away as England. Each page I turned enraged me more.
“We’ll discuss it once we reach Port Royal. Now, let’s get back to work. My first order of business is seeing to the proper burials of our men. From there, we’ll see about getting this ship cleaned up and repaired. We’ve a lot of hunting to do.”
About the Author
P.S. (Peggy) has always had a love of books and writing. She also paints and draws and although writing takes up the majority of her free time by choice, she loves spending time with her friends and family.
Her first novel “Fireflies” was published in March of 2013 with GMTA Publishing and her second, “Hope From the Ocean” was published in March of 2014, also with GMTA.
Peggy’s goal is to become a full time writer and spend the remainder of her days creating worlds, characters and stories that will carry on long after she’s written her last word.
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Website: http://psbartlett.me/
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Demons & Pearls (The Razor's Adventures Book 1) Page 17