Over the fall, we had been dismayed to note that no one was hunting cattle: then we thought that best, as there surely were not enough cattle left upon the island to feed everyone. We slipped into the woods and found the great wild beasts, however. We shot two, and with great industry, rendered them into boucan, two nice suede blankets, and a good supply of crocked fat. We were often approached by men during this process and asked when the roast meat would be ready. We told them to go and shoot their own cattle. A few did, and there were great cattle roasts for a couple nights; but then that seemed to be the end of that. Knowing Morgan’s preference for living off the Spaniards—as that gave him the pretense of starving men to justify his attacks—we secreted away as much meat as we could in our bags, and sent the rest with Donovan and Pierrot.
Gaston and I were approached by Captain Collier on the first day of December. I did not recognize him at first. I had only met him the once at a ball at the Governor’s, and he had been dressed like a good English naval officer. Now he wore the dressy garb favored by Morgan: thigh-high, buff-colored, tooled leather boots that were considered quite stylish in England—where they were actually needed to keep a man’s legs warm; black wool, lace-festooned, pantaloon breeches favored in King Charles’ court; a fine, once-white, linen shirt replete with ruffles; and a heavy tri-cornered hat with plumage over a bright blue kerchief. To this he had added various rings and necklaces stolen from the Spanish. He did not look to be a wealthy man trying to wear a little less for the tropics, but a poor man dressing in discarded or stolen pieces of his master’s clothing.
He doffed his hat and bowed in cordial greeting. “I am sorry, I am at a loss on how to properly address you,” he began.
“Will and Gaston,” I said. “And you are Captain Collier?”
“That I am.” He nodded to himself. “Will and Gaston then, I have come here to invite you to become part of the Satisfaction’s crew. Mister Gaston is considered to be the finest physician we have, and therefore, we feel he should be surgeon of the Admiral’s flagship. You will receive a berth in a cabin, and the usual compensation for a surgeon.”
“Thank you,” Gaston said. “What of Will?”
“It is my understanding he goes where you do,” Collier said with a frown. “And the Admiral is hoping Mister Will, will be willing,” he smiled weakly, “to be a translator for the campaign.”
“Do we get the entire cabin?” I asked.
“Nay, it is shared.”
“Is there enough space to hang a wide hammock in it—near the ceiling perhaps?” I asked.
“I suppose there is,” Collier said.
I looked to Gaston and he shrugged. “Then we accept. Tell the Admiral I will accept the position of translator—his translator—and I will keep him from appearing a fool before the Spanish.”
“He has several,” Collier said quickly.
“Tell him that if he does not trust me, then he must ask himself what he might have done to earn my wrath. And, if he will not trust me, I will not serve him at all. Tell him these are the wages of the choices he has made. And, when I say I will do a thing, I impart that I will do it honestly and diligently. And if—despite the bad blood between us—he does not respect that, then he is besmirching my honor. And if that is the case, he can rot in Hell for all I care.”
Collier smiled grimly. “I think I will tell him he must discuss this matter with you himself.”
“Very good, then,” I said and waved in parting before returning to gutting a fish.
Gaston watched him walk away before turning to me. “You are loved.”
I laughed.
That evening, Cudro and Ash joined us for dinner. We were quietly discussing Morgan’s offer when Pete and Chris paddled in from the Fortune. They appeared quite serious, and so we joined them in the surf and stood about in a circle—the only means we now had of insuring we were not overheard with so many men wandering in and out of the brush.
“’AdAVisit FromBradley,” Pete said.
“He knows,” Chris said above tightly crossed arms. “I could feel his eyes crawling all over me.”
I cursed. “What did he want?”
Pete smiled and shook his head. “’EOfferedMe Quartemaster OnThe Mayflower. SaidWeCould ’AveACabinThatWay.”
“He offered you quartermaster on the second largest ship in the fleet?” Cudro asked. “No offense Pete, but you’ve never had a command.”
“NoneTaken. IWereFlattered FerAMoment, ThenIRealized ItBeAbout ChrisAn’Morgan’s ShiteWithWill. ThenIFeltStupid. IAsked’ImIfIWould ActuallyBe Quartermaster, An’Second InCommand, An’’ESaidNay. There would be AMasterO’Sail FerTheShip, An’ASecondIn CommandFerThe LandForces. ButSinceThe BrethrenNa’Be UsedTa MilitaryTitles, BradleyThoughtThey Should’AveA Quartemaster TaKeep’EmInLine AboardShip. An’SinceIBe WellRespectedAn’All.”
He spat in the surf.
“Well, we have received an offer from Collier to sail on the Satisfaction, with Gaston as surgeon and me as one of the translators,” I said. “It appears they are attempting to divide us up as they see fit.”
“I’llNa’Sail WithBradley,” Pete said. He looked to Cudro. “WereYaPlannin’ OnSailin’ WithPierrot?”
“Nay, Donovan. He needs us, or rather me. Morgan has said he wishes the captains to lead the ground forces, and the masters of sail to mind the ships: as it has always been done amongst the Brethren. But Donovan is both, and he is not happy about the prospect of leading the fifty men Morgan is commanding him to take into battle against the Spanish. So I offered to play Captain for him. Morgan doesn’t seem to care where Ash and I are.”
“Do not take it as a personal affront,” I teased.
“I take it as a blessing,” Ash said.
Cudro laughed. “Aye, I don’t either. I consider us fortunate.”
“So you’ll captain the Fortune,” I said.
“Donovan’s Fortune,” Ash said. “There are five ships here named Fortune.”
“Well, no one has ever found sailors imaginative when it comes to naming ships,” I said. “People, perhaps.”
“I do not consider them imaginative when naming people,” Chris scoffed. “They are like children: ‘Look, he’s bald, so we’ll call him Harry’.”
“True,” Cudro said, “but you’ve never seen them struggle to name a ship. You’d think someone asked them to write an opera for all the teeth-gnashing ship-naming starts. In the end, they go with the simplest thing, or they name it after another ship they saw.”
“You should call Donovan’s ship the Virgin Queen,” Gaston said with a grin.
We laughed.
“Aye,” I said, “Elizabeth should be represented in any raid on Panama. Drake would wish it that way.”
“So you two will sail with Donovan,” I said again. I looked to Pete. “You should sail with Pierrot.”
He was squinting at the sunset. “ThatWereMyThinkin’.” He turned back to Cudro. “WeNeedYa TaMakeArrangements With’Im. Morgan’ll NeverLetUs BoardTheJosephine. SoWe’ll’Ave TaSwimTo’Er. We’llNeedOur WeaponsAn’GearOnFirst. ITol’Bradley I’dThinkOnIt, An’EvenIfIDidNa’ WishTaBeQuatermaster, I’dSailWith’ImAnyway. ThenITol’’ImWe Would BeSpendin’TheDays AforeWeSailed WithYouLot. SinceWeNa’Be Seein’Ya FerAwhileWith UsAllOn DifferentShips.”
“As always, you are far ahead of the rest of us in thinking of things tactical,” I said.
Pete snorted, but then he grinned. “SomeoneNeedsTaBe.”
We turned away from such treacherous topics and made our way back to our fire. I stopped Pete. “You would make an excellent Captain.”
He hooked the back of my head and planted a kiss on my lips. “ThankYa.”
“Do that again,” I said.
He raised a brow. I gave him a coy smile and pulled his mouth to mine. He did not resist, and the kiss was equal plunder and surrender on both our parts. It was much as I had imagined kissing him would be: very good, and it lit a fire in my cock. He pulled away with a curse and wide eyes tha
t quickly narrowed to a mix of respect and wonder. I grinned.
Then Gaston was bowling him into the surf while Pete protested vehemently that he did not start it. I was concerned for a moment, until I realized my matelot was not at all angry. Pete saw the same, and they began to play roughly as was their wont of late.
I waded back to camp.
“What was that?” Chris asked with a touch of pique.
I laughed. “A thing Pete and I have long been curious about. Now that he has you, it is meaningless, and not a threat to any of us.”
He did not believe me. I knew my words true for me; but in truth, I worried that I lied in regards to Pete’s assessment of the matter. Only time would tell.
I was thankful Pete seemed willing to make no mention of the kiss when Gaston and he at last waded to shore with gasping breath. It had been my only worry in partaking of it; but nay, he made no innuendo, nor did I find him regarding me with the hungry lust he had exhibited prior to taking Chris on as matelot.
Gaston, however, teased, “And how did he kiss?” once we were alone.
“With the promise of fine meals best left uneaten,” I said.
He laughed, and kissed me, and did other things until I forgot dining anywhere but at his table.
The next day, December Second, Pete and Chris moved ashore, and Cudro and Ash moved to the new Virgin Queen. Donovan was quite happy with the new name. Cudro was named captain that day, and thus he attended the meeting of the thirty-seven captains that night where they unanimously—of course—ratified Morgan’s choice of targets, Panama.
Morgan came to call the next night—alone, to my surprise. I was also amazed he was not wearing boots or fancy breeches, until he motioned for me to follow and walked out into the surf. I joined him without hesitation.
“I apologize for the boat,” he said by way of greeting, and held up a hand to ward off protest. “I could not let you leave. I am not betting on the wrong horse. I keep underestimating you—and Modyford surely does, but… Nay, I think you would be a fool to face your father. You would do best to wait for old age to take him.”
“Believe it or not, I agree,” I said. “I did not, when I came here, but I have had a change of heart. I have just become very damn tired of people lording it over me, you understand?”
“Quite,” he said with a smile. “That is why I am here and not in my native Wales. Here I am an Admiral.”
“Here I am a free man.”
He nodded thoughtfully at that. “I would be honored to have you and no other translate for me.”
“Then I accept.”
“And if Bradley’s offer to Pete was unacceptable, then they should come to the Satisfaction as well. It would be best for the girl.”
“I doubt that. The fact that you told Bradley, and probably others, makes things difficult indeed. They know, and thus they can think of nothing else. Chris said Bradley’s eyes were all over him, and since Bradley is not known for ogling boys…”
“I see,” Morgan said with another thoughtful nod. “They do not know how to lie well, do they?”
“Nay, they pale in comparison to masters such as us.”
He snorted and cackled at that. “Damn I will enjoy having you with me on this campaign.”
I sighed. “I have begun to think it is as it was meant to be. When it is over, I expect us to part peacefully, though. I—with my people—will sail where I must, and you will return to Jamaica.”
He considered that for a time before nodding with a smile. “I agree. You have my word.” He offered his hand and we shook on it.
“When do we sail, Admiral?” I asked.
“In a few days.”
“Good, then we will remain ashore and make the most of what privacy it still affords us.”
He nodded. “I will not worry, then.”
We parted company and I returned to the fire and three anxious pairs of eyes.
“We have declared a truce,” I said quietly.
“DoYaTrust’Im?” Pete whispered.
“Like I trust the Devil,” I said.
Later I told Gaston all that had been said.
“You were not specific enough in your agreement with him,” he noted.
I chuckled. “I do not expect him to willingly honor it, so I did not care.”
He nodded. “I wonder how large a craft we would have to steal in order to sail it around the cape from one sea to the other. Or across the Southern Sea the way Drake went.”
“We would need Drake’s maps, and the Bard,” I said, though the idea was intriguing. “Nay, I think we stand a better chance of seeing our children in this life if we find some way of escaping Morgan when all are returning to the ships.”
He nodded. “Then let us plan on that.”
The four of us visited Cudro and Ash the next day and agreed that unless an opportunity presented itself before then, we would plan to escape after the raid; and that we would all have a much better sense of things once we were all ashore for the attack on Panama. Cudro confirmed he had made arrangements with Pierrot, and Pete’s and Chris’ bags, muskets, pistols, powder and shot—and our gold—were already aboard the Josephine.
We said our farewells to Cudro and Ash, as we would not see them again before landing to march on Panama. That night, we parted with Pete and Chris—without kissing—and they slipped away into the water to swim to the Josephine. The next day, Gaston and I packed up our things and went to the Satisfaction.
Short of the galleons we had once taken, the Satisfaction was the largest ship I had been aboard. There were indeed several cabins, and not one cabin and two closets as the Mayflower possessed. We were ushered to one on the port side. There were four hammocks hanging within it, and I was minded of the cabin I had lived in on my journey to the West Indies on the King’s Hope. After discussing the matter with the carpenter and master of sail—with whom we would share the room—we unstrung two of the hammocks and placed our large one up high near the ceiling where it could receive the breeze from the room’s one porthole. The carpenter, being a large man, used the three hammocks thus left over to string a reinforced bed near the floor beneath us. The master of sail thus had the other side of the room in which to sling his hammock at a middle height. We placed one of our suede hides on our hammock to give us privacy, arranged our things in the nooks and crannies of the ceiling beams—placing hooks where needed—and settled in.
Later in the day, we were brought the ship’s medicine chest. It was well-stocked by a physician at the beginning of its life and had remained so; as apparently many of the apothecary items had been unused—as well as the finer instruments and tools—by the Satisfaction’s surgeons. Gaston was ecstatic. He spent hours examining and organizing it.
The day before the fleet was to sail, we were summoned to the main cabin, where we found Bradley, Collier, and Norman with Morgan.
“Where are Pete and his matelot?” Morgan asked.
Bradley and Norman smirked. Collier frowned.
Gaston and I looked to Bradley. “Are they not on the Mayflower?” I asked.
Morgan sighed. “Never mind.” Then he sighed again. “Just tell me, are they still with the fleet?”
“Well, Admiral,” I said with a grin, “As there is no way for them to leave the fleet, I would assume so.”
“It is on your head,” Morgan said.
“My head?” I scoffed. “Admiral, Gaston’s cousin is Pete’s matelot. Pete is more than capable of doing what is best for the men in his life. That is why Gaston entrusted his cousin to him.”
Gaston was nodding agreeably: the three captains were frowning: Morgan awarded me a begrudging and knowing nod.
“Well,” Morgan said and took another sip of rum. “So be it, then. Sorry to bother you.”
“It is not a bother,” I said cheerily. “If you should happen to locate them, please let us know. We are curious.”
Gaston and I waited until we were safely behind our cabin door before snickering. Then we made a fer
vent whispered prayer to the Gods that they were not found.
The fleet set sail on December Twelfth, Sixteen Hundred and Seventy. Morgan bragged to Modyford that he had thirty-six vessels and eighteen hundred men, but in truth, many of the vessels were small coastal boats and not large enough to sail to the Spanish Main—or keep pace with the larger ships. By my count, we were an unprecedented buccaneer force of perhaps over seventeen hundred, spread among twenty-eight ships varying in size from seventy-ton sloops to one-hundred-and-fifty-ton frigates and merchantmen. Our decks were packed, and our holds nearly empty. Every ship carried water and some food, but not nearly enough to feed the men aboard unless we found plunder quickly.
Since the captains had ratified our target and the articles before we sailed, there was little to be done by way of elections on each ship. The men were notified of their officers and the skilled positions, and then they ratified—unanimously—the articles upon which their captains had already agreed. Thus Gaston was confirmed as surgeon and immediately set to work inquiring of the health of his charges before we were fully under sail. He had been treating many of the ones who ailed while on Cow Island, and they were quite happy to see him. He settled in quite happily. I spent my days avoiding Morgan and his requests to join him in drinking. The damn fool did not drink to excess, but he did seem to drink continuously. I doubted he was ever truly drunk—or sober. Gaston said he doubted Morgan would live to old age any more than he would die by lead or steel: rum would be his reaper.
Our first target was Morgan’s oddly-beloved Providence Island. A small, rocky island just over one hundred and forty leagues north and a little west of Porto Bello, it had originally been settled by Protestant Puritans in Sixteen Hundred and Thirty, but the Spanish had taken it Sixteen Hundred and Forty-One. Morgan and Mansfield had then captured the place in Sixteen Hundred and Sixty-Six. Then, due to a lack of interest on the part of Jamaica’s governor, poor planning, and bad luck, the island had been lost to the Spanish, and the few colonists sent there had followed the path of the original Puritans into Spanish slavery and the hands of the Inquisition. We had rescued some of those men when we took Porto Bello almost three years ago. Now Morgan was determined to retake the island and use it as a rallying point before heading south to the mouth of the River Chagre—the path he intended to take to Panama. We needed such a rallying point, because inside two days we had left slower vessels such as Cudro and Donovan’s new Virgin Queen behind.
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