AMBER WAKE: Gabriel Falling (The Razor's Adventures Pirate Tales)

by P. S. Bartlett

  “Well, look who we have here,” Miles said. His smile was annoying and the volume of his voice, combined with the sunlight, was hammering at my skull. His brow narrowed and a look of concern covered his face as my pained expression spoke the truth of my state. His failed attempt at humor over his obvious belief that I’d only had too much to drink didn’t seem to concern him as much as my arched posture and need of the gunnel for support.

  “Silence your tongue or I will cut it out,” I whispered.

  He nodded. “If it’s any consolation, you’re not alone with your pains. Half the ship has emptied their stomachs into the harbor and the rest, their purses on whores.”

  I groaned. “Are they fit to sail or shall we all perish on a reef?”

  “Oh, they’ll sail all right. That is, if they shut their mouths long enough.” He laughed soft and low with a tone akin to a witch stirring her cauldron. “Dare I say you’ve notched your belt with added morale on this vessel? These men are singing your praises bow to stern. If they aren’t nattering about the brawl, they’re going on about their freedom and who’s to praise for it and that, my friend, would be you.”

  “Praise, indeed. Praise for the freedom to ruin themselves in one night, I’d say.” I felt the burn of what stomach contents remained inside me rise up until I, too, spit them into the sea.

  “We’ve got the wind,” I continued. “Mister Gimby studied your maps while we were ashore to refresh his memory of the heading but I believe the old salt already knew the way.”

  “You’d be correct in that assumption, sir,” Gimby said as he arrived at my side.

  I smiled at his observation. “Does anyone else know of our heading?”

  “Not as of yet. Fer now, all the crew need know is ta follow your orders and keep her moving forward, no matter where.” The helmsman never looked away from the ocean ahead.

  “Thankfully, we haven’t had to use the oars but I did have the men take them out and give them all a turn. I don’t know what we’ll be facing, so all alternatives and options must be at our disposal.”

  “The odds are, we’ll need them. There was a reason I chose to only send a certain number of men with Carbonale. We’ll need men to row when necessary; even in a fight.”

  “I had wondered why we were still carrying so many. I should have known,” Miles said with a nod.

  “Losing the Stegman may be the final nail in Chambers’s financial coffin. Knowing me as you do, you’ll agree I didn’t waste my time sitting on my arse while awaiting my fate at trial.”

  “What else are you plotting?”

  “Ye don’t want to be knowin’ that, Milo. Ye’d damn sure think me mad.”

  “I’ll leave ye with that madness, then, Big Red. I’ll see to the men who made a bit too much merriment while ashore. We have several who might never be the same again. That includes you.” He smiled and turned, taking his leave.

  “Mister Gimby, did you take care of everything while I was ashore?”

  “Need ye ask, sir?”

  “Good man,” I said.

  “Indeed.” He laughed at his own feigned arrogance and I couldn’t help but join him. I took every laugh I could find, wondering if it would be my last.

  Twenty-Two

  “Fresh water, sir,” Adam said, filling my cup. “The rain yesterday refilled our stores.”

  “Thank you, lad.” I nodded and gave Adam my signal to close the door behind him on his way out.

  After a week of navigating the Caribbean in pursuit of the Stegman, I had at last given Miles my full attention as I believed I had a course of action in place worthy of discussion. Once our evening meal was cleared away, we took our usual seats opposite one another at my desk and I explained my plot.

  “It’s safe to assume, based on the reports of our attacks thus far, she will have two ships in consort. Normally, she’d engage only one. If I were Chambers, knowing we are on a quest to ruin him, I’d take every precaution with that jewel. We cannot take on three heavily-gunned ships at once on our own.”

  “Agreed,” Miles said.

  “We know her course. Ours is patience. I have Gimby steering us twenty miles out of her way and then bringing us about to sneak up on her stern as she heads into Jamaica to pick up her load of sugar and rum.”

  “So we’re sailing in circles in dangerous waters…to hide?”

  “To lie in wait, old friend, but yes, we’re hiding. By keeping ourselves at sea, away from any ports or shipping channels, Assurance will bide her time out of sight until the moment arrives.”

  “What time might that be?”

  “When they weigh anchor in Jamaica. Once they make port, you and your mermaids will pay them a visit.”

  “Pardon my thick skull but won’t they be a wee bit suspicious when we hop aboard for a visit?”

  “Sabotage,” I leaned forward across the desk and hissed. “You’ll create several small holes below the waterline of one of the consorts—enough to cause a slow leak in the hold. Obviously, this must be done before she’s weighted down with all that sweetness. Once she drops, the leaks begin,” I continued.

  “Brilliant—if it works. What then?”

  “I want to take the Stegman.” I sat back and folded my arms.

  “Are you truly mad? You’re planning to take another ship of the Royal Navy?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “And how in God’s name do you plan to do that?” Miles stood so abruptly his chair bounced from beneath him.

  “Man-to-man.”

  His eyes blew open as he rushed forward and slapped his palms on my desk. “Insanity!” He laughed. “Gabriel, listen to yourself! He spun away and began to pace.

  “Your duty is to carry out my orders, not question me at every turn!”

  His pacing came to an abrupt halt and he faced me, his expression blank.

  “Have I ever given you reason, or liberty, to question me without inquiry of your thoughts?” I asked.

  He folded his hands at his back and straightened his shoulders, staring down at me. “No. Of course not.”

  “Then speak your mind!” I stood and shouted. “Moments ago, you appeared to have no trouble sharing your unsolicited opinion.”

  “What good can come of your surrender?”

  “Answer my question, Miles. Why have you begun to question and interrupt me at every turn?”

  “May I?” he asked, motioning to his chair, to which I waved him to sit. “Gabriel, since you took that blow to your head at Norfolk, I believe some of your decisions have been careless and made without consideration of the risk involved.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  “The stop in Nassau—the fight in that bar, you didn’t see yourself. Teach wasn’t the only reason Barclay made his swift retreat. There was something in your eyes. Something I’ve never before seen. Cold-blooded murder and you didn’t appear at all bothered by the fact you could have died too—or me. That wasn’t the man I’ve had the privilege to call my friend for a lifetime. No, that man was someone else.”

  “Leave me. I need to rest a while.”

  “I don’t believe rest will cure this ailment, Gabriel…or is it Rasmus?” Miles leaned in with his arms on my desk, an almost pleading look on his face. “It will require much more than rest.”

  “Once this is through, I can rest for good.”

  He stood and looked down at me with a frown. “When this is all over, you may not be around to rest. Good evening…Captain Bergman.”

  Miles was right. I needed far more than rest to relieve my burdens. I needed out. I needed to finish the war I had started and move forward with my life, either as Gabriel Wallace or Rasmus Bergman, before it killed me. I could have explained my plan to Miles but his suspicions concerned me. I knew his doubts were masking fear, which is why I gave him the room to rant. Who would want their friend, their captain, to hand themselves over to the enemy knowing full well the outcome? However, his questioning of my actions troubled me.

 
I knew what I was doing in that bar. I wanted to hurt people. I wanted that sick, disgusting scum, bloodied by my hands and dead, if need be. No, not all were like Barclay and his ilk. Some were even civilized, to an extent. I was, however, aware that, after portraying ourselves as pirates for any length of time, we would all eventually become someone else. Our masks would slip off and reveal our new, true selves, if it wasn’t already too late for that.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about that little barmaid; an innocent young girl. If not for this mission, I would have taken her with us to the ship and sailed her back to wherever she came from. She most certainly didn’t belong in some filthy tavern full of even filthier men pawing at her like a piece of meat. Her tear-filled eyes gnawed at my insides when I lay down to sleep. I should have done more.

  Back in London, I’d heard of girls being stolen and sold into slavery. After seeing that girl, the bright green eyes of a strawberry-haired lass with freckles on her nose, who’d gone missing many years ago, flashed in my memory. There were suspicions she’d run off with another man, as well as rumors of some shame or indiscretion resulting in her family having sent her away, lest they all be cast out of society. The thought of her ending up as one of these nameless girls burned in my chest for quite some time. Knowing her as intimately as I did, I knew there was nothing shameful in her.

  I’d forced myself to believe she’d run away with another and that the sight of her in her red cloak on the dock the last time I saw her, was nothing more than my wishful heart. I had to let go. I refused to believe she’d ended up as some plaything for drunken men in a run-down tavern somewhere in the world. I despised the whispers and glances of those who did, for had it been true, was surely through no fault of her own. Being indignant at the thought of selling young women for pleasure back in London was one thing but coming face-to-face with it had affected me at a depth I didn’t know I had.

  Miles had spoken of my anger that night as if a hard knock on the head could change my character and cause such rage. Worse than that, it disturbed me that he didn’t share my desperate concern for that child and couldn’t discern the motivation of my urge to protect her with my own life. Two men of the same mind, and yet not of the same heart—something that big could ultimately drive a space between us as wide as the ocean.

  I wrenched my head from my hands and stood, turning to the windows of my cabin. As I drew closer, the moonlight entranced me as it danced in endless speckles of silver over the wake of the Assurance. I had no concept of how long I’d sat there inside of my head but at the conclusion of that journey, my understanding of myself was clear. Our brief time ashore in Nassau had confirmed what I had feared. I’d already seen and done things I hadn’t imagined myself doing or thought I was capable of. The line was not only crossed over but washed away in the surf. I was no longer the man I believed I was. I was a pirate.

  A small knock brought me back to reality. “Yes, Adam?”

  “Sir,” he said, opening the door. “May I bring you anything?”

  “At this hour? No, lad.” I returned to my desk.

  “I’ll just refill the water and be on my way.”

  “Sit down, Adam.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When we were in London and I was a captain in the Royal Navy, you expressed to me your intention of becoming a captain someday as well. Do you still wish to follow that path?”

  “Would it be disappointing to you if I said I want to sail the world and write stories of my experiences and adventures?” As he spoke, his eyes shined so brightly in the candle flames between us, I wasn’t sure where the light was coming from.

  “A writer, aye? That’s a far cry from a sea captain. What, may I ask, prompted this change in the wind?”

  “As you know, my book collection has been read through and through, so I began to make up stories to pass the time—in my head, you know, not actually writing them down. Parchment is scarce at sea,” he said, fidgeting in his seat. “Did I tell you Mister Carbonale gave me a book the morning he left on the Water Wench?”

  The passage from Carbonale’s note immediately appeared in my memory: I am sure Adam will be satisfied. “What book did he give you?”

  “The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha. I don’t quite know what to make of it, sir. One moment, I pity this man and the next I’m completely lost in his misadventures.” The boy laughed. I smiled, imagining the same of the gift-giver.

  “A writer.” I leaned forward on one elbow and stroked my chin as I peered at the lad from beneath my lopsided brows.

  “Yes, sir but I still want to be a captain, too,” he raced to add. “Not in the navy, though. I want my own ship, so I’ll be able to travel where I’d like, when I’d like.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I can see that would be advantageous for a writer. Military life can be a bore with routine and schedules.”

  “Without a doubt, sir.”

  I smiled at him with a scoff and his eyes opened wide.

  “Apologies, sir,” he mumbled and squirmed again.

  “No need to apologize, Adam, I know what you meant and I agree. The Navy served us for a time. But there is something about the freedom to do as one likes…although we’re not quite there, yet.”

  “True, sir but I’m thinking whatever you have planned next will do that for us; am I right, sir?”

  “You’ve been with me long enough to decipher the goings-on of things.” I smiled. “Even better than many men on this ship.”

  “Is Mister Jacobs angry with you, sir? I mean, if you don’t mind my asking. He appeared a seagull flapping out his ruffled feathers when he passed by me earlier.”

  “Currently we aren’t seeing things as singularly as we normally would.”

  “He worries about you, sir.” Adam’s hands fidgeted awkwardly. “He watches over things when you’re feeling poorly and he makes sure no one knows why but Mister Gimby and me.”

  “He’s a fine sailor but there are moments where our friendship and mission clash. For old friends, that can be a difficult thing.”

  “But aren’t your missions the same?”

  I looked at him for a long moment. “A very good question, Adam but before I can answer, I’ll need to run through the plans again. You needn’t concern yourself with such things anyway. Regardless of any plan, rest assured, I’ll see you grow up. Now, young man, you need sleep…if you plan to be a captain and a writer someday.”

  He smiled and stood as if at attention. “You rest, too. Good night, sir.”

  “Good night, Adam.” The lad was right—about many things. His mother had been right as well. Perhaps it was time I listened to him like I had her. However, rest was not to be found any time soon this night. I knew how difficult closing my eyes would be now and leaving a thick cloud of misunderstanding between Miles and me would hold them open until dawn. So, I set off in the darkness in search of Miles, hoping to clear my head through resolution.

  I found him at the helm.

  “I’m surprised to find you here,” I remarked.

  “Gimby needed a rest,” my lifelong friend answered, yet his eyes remained fixed dead ahead.

  “Miles, if you’ll allow me the courtesy of your respect for a moment, I’d like to explain myself—although, as we both know, explaining myself is a practice I’m less than fond of.”

  He turned to me and nodded, yet I could feel the thick tension as if a river was passing between us.

  “The plan is for me to be found adrift in a dinghy at dusk. My intention is that they’ll haul me aboard and confine me for questioning. I’ll give them the story that the men had mutinied, setting me adrift. During the night, you will come aboard and free me. As the Assurance opens fire and the mayhem begins, we take the captain…together.”

  Miles again looked away and stared straight ahead. “Why not just blow her out of the water?”

  “We need her.”

  “Why?”

  “If we fail and you’re captured, can you swear to me you woul
dn’t reveal anything, regardless of torture or threat of death?” I stared at his eyes as he slowly turned and looked at me.

  “Reveal what? You ask for my help and yet you insult me.”

  “You failed me once, Miles.”

  “What a long memory you have, Gabriel, albeit disappointing.” Miles’s eyes bore into me. I could almost feel the heat rising from the wound I’d just opened.

  “What’s more disappointing is that it happened and that I must return to it in this moment.”

  “I believed it resolved.” He turned his eyes back to the dark sea ahead.

  “Miles, my non-disclosure of my motives keeps you innocent of my crimes. What you don’t know you can’t tell.”

  He squeezed the wheel hard and faced me fully. “Do you honestly think they’ll believe there’s anything about you I don’t know or haven’t been a party too? Is your brain that addled?”

  “Stand down, my friend.” My blood began to rise. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you’re questioning my abilities to manage my own decisions.”

  “I do know you and that gives me the right to know exactly what I’m doing.” His voice was low and deep, rising from somewhere far below his throat.

  I clenched my fists tightly at my sides to restrain myself from striking him. “Mister Jacobs, I’ve chosen to turn myself over to the authorities. If you wish not to attempt to save me that is your choice…whatever your motives.”

  “My motives are not to see you hanged,” he growled, no longer staring out at the sea, but rather appearing to glare into the air.

  “Regardless! If you dare insult my judgment again, I’ll have no trouble at all reminding you that I am not only of a sound mind but a sound body as well. This isn’t some delusion brought on by an injury. This is the decision of a man who’s been plotting for months and who does not intend to see that plot ruined because you’ve convinced yourself of some lingering ailment that does not exist.”

  “I’m tellin’ ye as your first mate and as your friend, something has changed.”

  “Yes! I have changed! Everything has changed!” I shouted, slapping my hand down on the wheel and holding it still.