by David Talon
A few men were playing cards but most were eating some kind of stew from wooden bowls, the ones closest to us looking up as Pepper continued. “This is where most of the crew lives. The officers have cabins of their own off to starboard,” which was to our left since we were facing the stern of the ship, “while the privy and the galley are off to port. C’mon.”
There was an obvious passage leading straight from port to starboard, like a path through the forest, and Pepper led us toward the port side where the privy sat, and as we turned toward the stern I glanced inside. It was a three-seater enclosed in a small space with an open doorway, and two black, pitted balls hung from rope baskets hung to either side. The smell of cinnamon was strong.
But cinnamon gave way to fish as we walked past it, the crew watching us as we passed. Their eyes were not unfriendly but more curious, Pepper and Jeremiah both sharing jests with them as we walked on. One grizzled oldster with a short, white beard chuckled as he pointed at my shirt. “Curly said the captain’s made you his new apprentice. Hope you fare better’n the last one.”
I glanced down at the faded bloodstain. “What happened?”
“Lad was going one-on-one with a ship’s captain when a sailor stabbed him with a pike.” The oldster shook his head. “He died of blood loss ‘fore Pepper could get Fire-rose to save him.” The grizzled oldster held out his hand. “Henry Campbell, known to the crew as ‘Twelve-fingered Harry’.”
We shook hands as Pepper said, “He’s called that on account of his talent for music. He can play his violin in such a way you’d swear he’s got an extra couple of fingers.”
“You have musicians aboard?”
“Two drummers and Henry,” Pepper replied. “The drummers are named Will, Olde Will and Young Will, being father and son. Young Will’s pretty good on the pipes and Olde Will’s learning, but both drum the men into battle when the captain calls for it.”
Twelve-finger Harry said, “Sally’s promised to give us a dance, so if yer below deck tonight you’ll get a chance to hear me play.”
The men around us became cheered at the news, calling out to each other as Jeremiah tapped my shoulder and led us on, with Pepper following behind. The scent of stewed fish grew stronger as we reached the ship’s galley, the kitchen separated from the hold by a pair of wooden walls on each side, reaching the ceiling, and its front by a low, wooden table butted up against one of the walls. In the L-shaped corner it made sat an Artifact stove. Before it had been transmuted, the stove had been crafted long and low with a high back, all of it carved like a vineyard full of grapevines, its leaves all individually shaped as were the grapes on its clusters, then transformed by a dragon-ghost into a shiny, black Artifact. On its top were two black discs which looked like transmuted bone. One of the discs was glowing a dull red, the iron cook pot on its surface making a bubbling sound as steam rose up into the air, the scent of fish stew making my mouth water as we reached the low table.
There were wooden bowls and spoons piled on the table next to the stove, and man with manacles on his ankles was at the other end of the table, washing the dirty ones sitting next to him in a bucket of water and placing them with the other clean ones. The light was poor in the galley itself, but at the far end, against the side of the ship, was another low wooden table with a large man facing away from us. He was chopping what looked like dried meat with a cleaver, every so often sweeping the pieces into a small iron cook-kettle before resuming his task again. There was something wrong with the way he was holding the cleaver, but the galley was too dark for me to see what it was.
Sally was ladling fish stew out of the large cook pot with a big wooden spoon. “Hey, you awake,” she said, looking me up and down with a critical eye before turning towards Pepper. “He look good, still too thin.”
Jeremiah spoke up beside me. “I’m working on that. Admiral,” Jeremiah raising his voice, “the Dragon everyone’s been talking about is here.”
The large man stopped what he was doing and turned around. He was stout as an ale cask, wearing stained trousers and a leather apron, with a head as bald as an egg...and wore an eye-patch over his right eye. His right leg ended in an Artifact peg, and as I watched, he removed the cleaver set into the stump of his right hand with his good left hand and inserted a steel hook in its place. The peg clicked on the grey-wood deck as he walked towards us, Pepper speaking up beside me. “Admiral, I have the pleasure of introducing to you Tomas Rios of St. Augustine.”
He extended his hook and I gingerly shook it, the man grinning at my obvious discomfort as I said, “Pleased to meet you sir.” He gave me a slight bow as I let go and I saw his throat was heavily scarred. “I don’t mean to be obvious, sir, but you didn’t get those marks of war in the ship’s galley.” He shook his head and I asked, “Were you in a great sea-battle?”
“Aye,” Redbeard’s voice boomed from behind us. He strode up beside Pepper, putting his arm around the girl as she leaned against him. “It be in the days when we be sailing with the Red Dragon of England, Francis Drake. John here,” Redbeard motioning toward the man, “be quartermaster for Sir Francis, the one who be leading the boarding parties when we attacked a ship man to man. Be you ever hearing about the days when the Spanish king decided to invade England?”
I nodded eagerly. “The English sailors used to tell stories about it. The fleet he assembled was called the Spanish Armada, the greatest anyone has ever assembled, but England smashed it apart.”
“Aye, but nae without loss” Redbeard replied. “During the battle, Sir Francis’s ship, called the ‘Golden Stag’, came astern of a galleon, and after we’d raked her decks with chain-shot, closed in to take her as a prize.” Redbeard chuckled. “The galleon still be using gunpowder weapons, and Sir Francis’s dragon-ghosts set off the powder before the galleon’s cannons could be returning the favor. So we closed, and John be the first one to swing aboard. Only the dogs be having one Artifact cannon on deck which we didn’t know about. They were almost done for when the Spanish captain turned this cannon on us and prepared to fire. But John be seeing him first and yelled at the rest of us to drop. We all be following his orders without thinking and it saved our lives, for the gun be loaded with metal scraps and chain-shot. John waited a moment to make sure we’d obeyed...and be getting the brunt of it instead.”
“How did he survive?”
“Sir Francis would nae let him die. All his dragon-ghosts descended on John at once, stopping the bleeding and getting him back on the Stag. When John be waking up, Sir Francis said he’d make John his admiral of the fleet, if he could. After that, the name be sticking.”
I was enthralled, as I always was when sailors told sea stories. “How did he end up on the Blackjack Davy?”
“Now that be a longer tale. After the Armada be defeated...”
The Admiral rapped his hook on the side of the cook pot with a sharp clang, his other hand pointing to where Sally was dipping bowls of stew. “Hook says you chatter like monkey in a tree,” Sally said to Redbeard, as Pepper stepped away from him to grab a bowl and hand it to me.
Redbeard got a gleam in his eye before turning to her with a look of indignation. “John be saying nothing of the kind. He be saying his old friend Dava’s merely increasing the lad’s knowledge of sea-lore.”
“And if you believe that,” Pepper said with a grin, “he’s got a plantation on Jamaica he’ll sell you.”
I smiled back at her. “Maybe I could trade him some of the swampland south of St. Augustine instead.” Jeremiah gave a good natured snort and Redbeard laughed as I asked, “Can I get another jack of Sweetwater? I’m parched.”
“I’ll dip us both one,” Pepper replied. “Anyone else?”
Jeremiah and Redbeard both said they’d stick to rum, as Sally dished up fish stew for the rest of us and herself. Pepper meanwhile padded quietly to the outside wall of the galley where a wooden barrel sat, a rope with hooks attached hanging down beside
it. Blackjacks hung by their handles from the hooks. As I watched, she grabbed two while the lid of the barrel slid off by itself, and I realized Smoke must be with her as she dipped both jacks and returned while the lid slid itself back into place.
When Lord Tiberius had given me counsel during the time he’d renewed my license, back in St. Augustine, he’d warned me not to get too attached to Smoke or any other dragon-ghost. They aren’t human, he’d said, no matter how much like us they seem, and they will do things to benefit themselves you may not understand. Like taking up with another Dragon, I realized. Even though I understood why she was with Pepper now, I still felt betrayed, for I’d always thought we’d be together, Smoke and I, and that nothing could break us up. You just never understood how much she wants to become human, I could almost hear Alfonzo say. I knew then how much my actions had led Pepper to the point she was at, like handing someone ready to take her life a seed of goblinsbane which I couldn’t take back, which meant it was up to me to keep her from taking that seed for as long as I could.
Pepper came back and handed me a tankard, so both my hands were full, a questioning expression on her face. “Is aught amiss?” I shook my head no, and she gave me a knowing look. “Smoke’s keeping away when we’re together. She’s afraid you’ll become angry and tell her not to stay with me, and she doesn’t want to tell you no.”
“She doesn’t have to,” I replied. “Tell her I want her to be with you, tell her she needs to protect you like she used to protect me, tell her...” I faltered, not wanting to say what was in my heart, which was I missed her dreadfully.
Suddenly I heard a loud squawk from high up on a shelf towards the rear of the galley, and a moment later a large, green parrot landed on my arm. He was a foot high and heavy, with emerald green feathers and a black head, his dark eyes giving me a sharp look as Jeremiah laughed. “Looks like Salty’s found a new friend.”
The bird and I continued staring at each other as I asked, “Why’s he called Salty?”
The bird squawked, “Needs some salt, needs some salt.”
Everyone laughed as I gave them a sheepish grin. “Does he mean me or the stew?”
Redbeard answered, “He nae means the stew.”
Salty turned his head to look at the blackjack I was holding, and started moving down my arm. “Wet me whistle, aye.” The Admiral gave Salty an exasperated look and expertly scooped up the bird with his free hand. “Avast!” Salty squawked, “We’re being boarded! All hands on deck.”
Pepper slipped between the right hand gap of the table to the wall and set her blackjack on the back table where the Admiral had been cutting meat. “Take this one and I’ll dip another.” The Admiral gave her a smile and set the bird on the table, letting Salty bob his head into the Sweetwater while Pepper returned and went back towards the barrel.
Meanwhile, Jeremiah led the way to an open area beyond the galley where the crew’s hold ended, with a long, wooden table and crates set around it like benches. A dragon-globe glowing with a very strong light hung in its basket of woven rope directly over the table. “I’m surprised no one else’s sitting here,” I said as I sat down on one of the crates, Jeremiah taking the crate beside me and Redbeard one directly across. Sally remained standing.
“Samuel uses this table for surgery,” Pepper said as she sat down on the edge of the crate I was sitting on. I slid over to give her room and she pressed her hip against mine so we were touching. “Many of the crew believes the souls of those who’ve died on this table linger around it, so they refuse to eat here,” she said, shrugging as she went on. “I’ve told them the souls of the dead don’t linger here for long, but for some reason that doesn’t seem to console them.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but Redbeard merely chuckled. “The dead would nae be lingering on account of John’s cooking, that be for sure.” He took a spoonful, adding, “Still, I be having worse.”
“You come Bo Island,” Sally said, still standing beside Jeremiah with the wooden bowl in her hand as she ate, “Sally make you good fish stew. Use roots, spices, cook for days. You come next year, you see.”
Before I could ask her why we’d be going there at all, from across the table a thin, reedy voice said, “Waste of a good fish. Leave it in the sun until it rots and then it’s good.”
I looked across at Redbeard. Standing on the crate beside him was a grey skinned manikin a yard high, with no hair anywhere I could see, even on its head. The creature wore no clothes, but seemed sexless, with long, bat-like ears that came to a sharp point, and spindly arms and legs. I gasped. “It’s a goblin!”
The goblin turned its black eyes on me and gasped in turn. “It’s a Dragon!” It leaped onto Redbeard, clutching at his thick arm with its spindly ones. “Save me, Dava, save me!”
The humans around the table roared with laughter, Pepper snorting Sweetwater out her nose while Jeremiah laughed so hard he fell off his crate, rolling onto his back while he clutched his side. I gave my friend a sour look. “You could’ve warned me.”
Jeremiah shook his head as he got back on the wooden crate, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. “Are you jesting? The look on your face was beyond price.” I gave my friend a wry smile as he clapped me on the shoulder. “Tomas, meet Hob, a grey-wood goblin who’s been on the Davy as long as anyone can remember.”
I looked at the goblin with a mixture of trepidation and wonder. “But I thought all the goblins were dead.”
“Goblins never die,” Hob said in his thin voice, “but we do feel pain, which we hate, and which humans are very good at inflicting. So those of us still remaining on earth have hid away in quiet places, far away from mortal kind.”
“Except for you.”
Hob gave me an unnerving grin of sharp, pointed teeth. “I made a deal with the captain, which he wrote into the Articles and has enforced on several occasions. Any human who strikes me for any reason is marooned upon a tiny spit of land with a little food, a lot of rum, and a pistol with one ball. In return I act as ship’s carpenter, keeping the Blackjack Davy afloat.”
“Hob transmutes ordinary wood into grey-wood,” Pepper said as she rubbed her bare foot against my own under the table. “Barnacles won’t attach to it and wood-bores won’t touch it, which means the ship never needs careening.”
Pepper continued rubbing her foot against mine as Jeremiah remarked, “Which means the ship’s always faster in the water than people expect. Plus, grey-wood absorbs a lot of damage before it breaks.”
Being in such close contact with Pepper was unsettling, most of all because I was beginning to enjoy it. “Can you make weapons out of it?”
“Too spongy,” my friend answered. “Although we do use it to make mock-weapons we can fight each other with. They leave bruises but naught else.” My gaze drifted back towards Pepper as she used her toe to rub a slow circle on the top of my foot, and Jeremiah lightly rapped my forearm. “Pay attention,” he said as I looked back at him. “I know Alfonzo trained you in sword-craft, but shipboard fighting’s an entirely different world. Besides, I know you’ve never killed a man in a fight.”
“I never thought I’d have to,” I said quietly.
Jeremiah’s gaze remained firmly fixed on my own. “The first time’s the hardest. After my first sea-battle I threw up over the side, and no one said a word to me about it. Since then it’s gotten easier.”
Part of me dearly hoped it would never get easy for me, but I remained silent as Redbeard spoke. “Now Jeremiah be one of the best fighters aboard, for all he nae be that long on the Davy.”
“Mr. Smith taught me all he knows,” Jeremiah replied, “and I’m going to pass that knowledge on to Tomas.” His gaze went back to me. “Actually, we’re going to become fighting partners. It’s a Buccan idea Captain Hawkins wants to adapt: instead of fighting alone, as the crew usually does, you and I are going to learn how to fight together as a team. Once the crew sees it’s wo
rking well for us, they’ll be more inclined to pair up themselves.”
I put my hand on Jeremiah’s brawny shoulder a moment. “It’ll only work with you; I don’t trust anyone else to fight alongside me.”
Jeremiah in turn put his hand on my skinnier shoulder and put his head close. “We’ve got glorious days waiting for us just over the horizon, you’ll see.”
We grinned at each other and let go as Redbeard chuckled. “Just so the pair of you nae be turning Buccan yourselves. Lucky Luc be telling me they can only be wearing rawhide clothes and be sharing everything, even their women.”
“Don’t even let it cross your mind,” Pepper said to Jeremiah. He got a sly look on his face, as if he were considering it, which made me laugh.
Then Redbeard spoke. “Be there something going on I am nae aware of?”
There was a dangerous edge to his voice, and my mirth quickly died as Pepper muttered, “Oh shitte.” She spoke up in a louder voice. “Dava, please don’t be angry with me.”
Redbeard’s blue-eyed gaze locked onto mine, and I felt the knot of fear coil in my belly again as he said, “I could nae ever be angry with you, lass. Now, what tidings be you bringing me?”
Pepper took a deep breath. “Tomas is now the captain’s apprentice, and not a member of the crew...which means he’s not subject to the Articles.”
Redbeard’s gaze flicked to her face. “I see where this be going. So, you be saying you want this lad...because he be a strong Dragon?”
“That’s part of it,” Pepper said, the fear in her voice making the knot in my belly clutch tighter. “Dava, I haven’t known a man since I was carried onto the Davy against my will. I know what would’ve happened to me if Sally hadn’t made me her blood sister, and you hadn’t loved my mother as much as you did. I understand why I had to agree to the Articles. But it’s been too long.” Her voice became wheedling. “I know you think of me as your daughter, but in truth I’m not your child but a Dragon, with a Dragon’s needs.” Pepper took my hand and held on as my fingers curled around hers. “Tomas is comelier to me than any lad I’ve known, and sweet. I haven’t known sweetness in a long time.”