by C. B. Ash
“Mein apologies. Mein most deepest apologies,” the captain replied with a heartfelt sigh, “I have always accepted that the man is erratic. I was, too, in mein younger days. I thought perhaps, with some guidance, he would find his balance.”
“However, this? Walking in and firing around a pub?” Captain Wilhelm indicated with a brief wave of a hand in John Clark’s direction. “This, I just do not know. He has never done anything such as this before.”
“There’s a bit of bad blood between John Clark and myself. Specifically over and around a doctor of our mutual acquaintance,” Hunter explained while he took his seat. He hesitated a moment, choosing his words carefully to be able to retain Wilhelm’s confidence, but not expose his entire plan … not yet.
Anthony shrugged, “I expected he might be irritated, perhaps angry after all this time. This was unexpected.”
Moira shot one more glare back at Captain Clark, then sat down at the table. “Ya did say he’d be ill about layin’ eyes on ya.”
“To kill you as soon as look at you?” Albert replied incredulously. “That is rather bad blood. Sounds more like a vendetta.”
Wilhelm leaned forward slightly, “Kapitän, just how deep goes this ‘bad blood’?”
“Rather deep,” Hunter replied with a heavy sigh. “My word to a judge, along with that of my friend – a doctor by trade – was what deported him to Her Majesty’s shipyards on the Bermuda penal colony. He swore revenge.”
“Ja, I see,” Wilhelm said thoughtfully.
“Ye be havin’ no idea?” O’Fallon asked curiously, as he slipped his revolver back into its holster.
Wilhelm glanced at the Scotsman a moment, then returned to watching John Clark at the bar. “Ja, I knew he had been accused of thievery. Though, I did not know about the revenge.”
“The man be a powder keg searchin’ for a wee place to explode,” O’Fallon said flatly.
Klaus looked at Captain Hunter, “Kapitän, you have mein honor on this when I say I did not know. At least hear what the man has to say for himself. Benefit of the doubt, ja?”
Hunter glanced over at Clark, then to the furrow cut in the table from the bullet that narrowly missed him. Anthony remembered Clark having a natural skill at firearms. At this close range, he should not have missed. The captain turned that over in his mind, then nodded. “Benefit of the doubt, then.”
“Cap’n!” Moira said sharply. “Ya can’t be serious?”
“Moira,” Captain Hunter interrupted her, frowning, “We can entertain Captain Clark’s explanation, if only for a little while. Humor me.”
“Aye … Cap’n,” Moira replied begrudgingly.
Hunter glanced over at O’Fallon, then Krumer. O’Fallon nodded his silent, if not disgruntled, agreement. Krumer, however, had noticed Captain Hunter’s thoughtful expression with regards to the near miss of Black Jack’s bullet.
“Of course, Captain,” Krumer replied. “No better way to get at the bottom of what’s going on here.”
By the time Black Jack returned to the table, he had a drink in each hand and a barmaid in tow carrying yet more. He smiled broadly at the group, setting one of the mugs on the table.
“Drinks all around!” John declared exuberantly. “Just to show no hard feelin’s, that is, right? Right? A’course!”
With a forced smile, the barmaid stepped around the table, depositing pints of dark liquid in front of everyone there. Captain Clark set a large mug of dark stout in front of Anthony.
“A good stout to chase the cold away, eh?” The scarred captain said with another of his sideways smiles. “Pity the doctor can’t be here ta drink, too.”
Hunter nodded a silent thanks, pulling the mug to him. “Quite. But he is a true professional of medicine. House calls, you know.”
“House call, eh?” Clark replied suspiciously. When Hunter did not offer any more detail, Clark reached back, stealing a chair from a nearby table. This earned him a dark glare from the sailor he stole it from. Ignoring the ugly look, Clark pulled the chair up to the table between Captain Hunter and Moira.
At Moira’s sour expression, Clark leaned back in his chair, propped up by one boot resting on the edge of the table. “Oh, don’t be like that, luv’. It’s not like my hands went wanderin’.”
The young woman shot a sugar-sweet smile at Black Jack. Then, with a short flip of her shoulder-length hair, replied, “be a mighty good thing, too. A git might be walkin’ away with a few less fingers.” With a quick pantomime of biting something in half, she flashed a toothy grin, which only partially covered the look of pure acid in her eyes. Only then did she look away, sipping on the drink in front of her.
“Oh, a right proper sauce that one’s got!” John laughed, but his eyes watched Moira uneasily. “So, Hunter, way I hear it, you’ve been busy,” the man said giving Hunter a malicious smile.
“Quite. It could be said that,” Captain Hunter replied coldly, taking out his pocket watch and flipping it open. By now, he assumed Thorias and Tonks should be well on their way searching the docks. He just needed to buy them more time. “I understand the same can be said of you, sirrah?”
Clark took a long drink of his stout. “Oh, just this and that. Countin’ crates in the altogether cold, when I don’t leg it inside to warm me arse. Gotta keep the Revenge in supplies, y’know.”
“No where else?” Krumer asked casually.
“A’course not, Canuck, where else would I be?” Clark replied with a shrug. “No shipments to be run for nearly a week.” The captain looked around the table, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “So, just what am I bein’ interrogated for?”
“Ya come bustin’ in here, shootin’ up tables, then threatened to kill Cap’n Hunter,” Moira snapped back. “What’re ya expectin’? Somebody to bake ya a cake?”
Clark stared daggers at the young woman, then glared around the table. “I apologized to the bloody lot of ya. Yet none of ya got the decency ta accept!”
Hunter snapped his watch closed, stuffing it into a pocket, “Moira, let it be.”
“But Cap’n! He came in wavin’ a gun around,” Moira exclaimed. “He tried to shoot you!”
“Quite,” Anthony replied calmly. “He also missed.”
“Fool’s luck,” Clark snapped, looking uncomfortable.
“Doubtful, not at that close range,” Hunter said. “You missed … and you did it knowingly.”
Black Jack shot an ugly look at Hunter, “Why would I not go an shoot one of the two bloody bastards that sent me to prison? Especially when he’s sittin’ right there … right in me sights!”
Hunter watched Black Jack calmly, studying him. Clark glared back, angry, agitated.
“You would … if you needed them for something,” Anthony replied. “A chance at Thorias, perhaps?” Black Jack snorted derisively in reply.
Anthony sat back in his chair. “Or not. You could have hit me, John,” Hunter explained. “Why did you miss?” Abruptly, a thought struck the captain like a bolt from the blue, “unless you were making a show of it all, just to make a point clear to me.” The captain paused before he leaned forward slightly and asked, “All right John, I get your point. You could have killed me, but didn’t. Why?”
Black Jack hesitated and his features softened, showing a genuine look of helplessness mingled with a brief flash of desperation. He glanced around the pub, and as he did, abruptly, a wall of anger came crashing down around his mannerisms. “Bollocks! I don’t know what I was thinkin’. I’ve got a ship ta resupply,” he said with an ugly snarl, before storming out of the pub, rage burning in his eyes. “I don’t have time to waste on the likes of you!”
“Something haunts him,” Krumer said sagely, as soon as Black Jack vanished out the front door. “It’s as if the hounds of hell are snapping at his heels.”
“Or a guilty conscience,” Moira said sternly. “Which I’m thinkin’ he rightly earned!”
“Captain Wilhelm, where’s the Revenge berthed?” Hunter asked quickly. “If Bla
ck Jack is headed for his ship, I’ve a need to be there as well … especially given his current state of mind.”
“You still believe he is involved with the Fair Winds?” Klaus asked.
Hunter looked Captain Wilhelm in the eye, “Indeed, I do. But I’m doubting my own conclusions as to his reasons. Just a gut feeling I have. ”
“What would his reasons be, then?” Wilhelm asked curiously.
“I don’t know … yet,” Captain Hunter admitted. “John mentioned he had to resupply his ship. He’s erratic, perhaps even mad, but not stupid. He wouldn’t make such a casual slip after stating he has been in dock for some time. I suspect he was trying to tell me something.”
“Such as?” Krumer asked curiously.
“I could be very wrong,” Anthony replied, “but I think he may have been asking for help.”
Chapter 13
A biting mid-day wind whipped between the buildings, chasing steam clouds along walkways edged by weathered pipes. In gaps between the warehouses, tall masts and canvas gas bags of airships were dirty blots against the ice-blue sky. At the dock, a few Icelandic gulls watched in silent observation while repair crews worked diligently at knocking away ice from railings.
The Revenge, a squat but wide vessel, sat in her mooring slip like a bulldog waiting to be slipped from her leash. She measured in at two hundred and forty feet in length with a draught just above twenty. The metal plates of her hull gleamed dully in the sunlight from beneath the rigid frame gas bag, reinforced to support the greater weight of her armor plated hull.
“Impressive lines on the lady,” remarked Captain Anthony Hunter, who had been watching the ship for some few minutes. “Armored hull, is it?”
“Ja, two inches of compound steel plating,” Captain Klaus Wilhelm replied, pulling his coat closer around his wide frame to stave off some of the cold wind. “She’s quick and armored, good for weathering storms … or would-be pirates calling themselves ‘inspection ships’ for France, Prussia or elsewhere.”
They had just arrived from their walk from The World’s End, a pub that sat towards one of the innermost rings of buildings of Port Signal. In keeping out of the wind, and to grant them a place to observe the ship without seeming to have sinister motives, the two captains were in a wide, recessed doorway of a warehouse. With them stood Moira Wycliffe, Krumer Whitehorse, Conrad O’Fallon and Albert Pryce.
Moira watched the steady activity of the crew on deck of the Revenge. Accustomed to shipboard life and chores, she easily guessed what many were up to after watching a moment. However, another thought nagged at her mind. “So, we’re gonna search his ship?”
Hunter shook his head. “No, not yet. Despite his previous actions, I want to give Black Jack the benefit of the doubt. We talk to him first. Hopefully away from prying eyes. I still suspect he was being watched at the pub.”
Krumer glanced around at the others, “perhaps only two of us should go visiting. If we all go, it might give the wrong impression.”
“Of what?” Conrad asked curiously.
“An angry mob,” Krumer replied matter-of-factly. “He did try to shoot Captain Hunter.”
“Och, Ah see ye point,” Conrad said, turning to watch the activity aboard the Revenge.
“However it transpired, in the end he started to confide in me, but stopped,” Hunter said thoughtfully, “He’s desperate to trust someone with whatever demons are chasing him.”
“Why you, though?” Albert asked, “There’s bad blood there from what you said earlier.”
“Quite,” Anthony agreed. “However, that might be the key. Someone not directly involved, someone outside it all. Therefore, I think I need to go along, so he has another chance to tell me what he almost said in the pub.”
“Followin’ the ‘angry mob’ idea along, Ah can’t be goin’,” Conrad chimed in. “Ah be tryin’ to shoot the daft man dead as a doornail before, it might look like Ah be wantin’ a round two with him,” the Scotsman said with a shrug. “Not that Ah’d be against it, mind ye,” he added.
Hunter gave the quartermaster a concerned frown. Conrad, in turn, gave the captain a helpless shrug, “what? Cap’n, he nearly shot ye.”
Hunter shook his head, but dropped any comment he had.
“I’ll go too,” Moira said firmly.
“Nein,” Klaus said equally firm., “It would be too risky and unwise.”
“What?” The young woman replied aghast, her voice angrily rising in pitch. “I’ll have ya know, Uncle, I can be takin’ on far worse than a boat load of them drunken sods.” She quickly snapped back, gesturing to the ship with a stab of a finger.
“Ja, I have no doubt of that, mein niece,” Captain Wilhelm replied with a smirk, “However, you cannot go stalking up the gangplank alongside your kapitän, no more than the Scotsman can, eh? Nein, I will go along with Kapitän Hunter. After all, Johann is the kapitän of the Revenge, but I am her owner.” He finished with a sly smile. “If I wish to see the ship, then there should be no question about why.”
Mr. Pryce asked, raising an eyebrow. “Clark’s not himself, Cap’n. You said that yourself.”
“If luck is with us, having a small number call on him plays to our advantage,” Hunter explained, “it’s less threatening to Black Jack, and presents less of a danger to whomever has him upset.”
“Just be mindful of where you are, Captain,” Mr. Whitehorse replied “We’ll find a way to keep watch from out here.”
“Aye,” Moira replied glumly.
“Someplace warm,” Albert grinned.
With a reassuring smile, Hunter turned away from the others, then set off across the boardwalk alongside Captain Wilhelm towards the lowered gangplank of the Revenge.
Klaus frowned at the condition of the ship. He gestured at the broad curve of the hull. “The burn marks along the hull are new,” the German captain remarked.
“Oh?” Anthony replied. “New as for today, or since last you saw her?”
“Since last I came to see her,” Klaus admitted. “My comments of Kapitän Clark being on station were from both seeing him and hearing reports from him. I confess, I had not made it by to see the Revenge with mein own eyes.”
Hunter nodded, peering curiously at the faint scorch marks along the hull. “It does look as if she’s had it out with another ship, and came away with a bit of a bloody lip.”
Wilhelm frowned. “Something else to ask Kapitän Clark,” he replied before walking up the gangplank. Captain Hunter followed a moment later.
At the top, they were met by a thin, wiry man in a blue peacoat. Beneath a gray woolen cap, his long thin face was slightly weathered, his eyes narrow and wary. “Kapitän Wilhelm, was für eine Überraschung!”
“Guten tag, Herr Bauer,” Klaus said with a broad smile, “would Kapitän Clark be about?”
Peter Bauer glanced over his shoulder uneasily, then back to the two newcomers. “Nein, Kapitän Wilhelm. Kapitän Clark ist hier nicht gerade jetz.”
Klaus shook his head, “Nein, Herr Bauer. Please, in English, for mein guest, ja?”
The man blushed slightly, then cleared his throat. “Mein apologies. Nein, Kapitän Clark is not here. He’s off to see after missing crew, I think.”
“A shame,” Wilhelm said, putting his hands on his hips, then gestured to Captain Hunter. “I have brought an old acquaintance here to see him. Did he say when he would return?”
Peter’s eyes glanced over to Anthony, and the captain saw … something. Recognition? A wariness? He was not sure. Hunter searched his memory but did not recognize the man, not even from the pub earlier. Despite his usual outward calm, Hunter was immediately alert.
Mr. Bauer shook his head, “Mein apologies again, I just do not know. If you vill excuse, there is work I must see to. Come back later, ja?”
“No need,” Wilhelm replied stepping aboard, “we will just wait here. I am certain he’ll be back soon.”
“Kapitän?” Mr. Bauer protested, “are you certain? He could be awhile
. A pub out of the weather would be more comfortable?”
“Nein, we will be fine,” Klaus replied glancing up at the rigging while waving a hand as if dismissing Peter. “Kapitän Hunter is well accustomed to the weather, as am I.”
Peter started to protest, but then shook his head. “Of course, I’ll let Kapitän Clark know you both are here, once he returns.”
As the thin man hastily retreated across the deck, Hunter watched the man leave. The captain’s eyes clouded over with suspicion. “He’s quite eager to be rid of us, eh?”
“Ja,” Klaus replied. “For a moment, I wondered if he wanted to deny me access to mein own ship. Very strange. I am starting to wonder if there is something to what you’ve been saying, Kapitän. That there is something dark lurking here.”
Hunter thought a moment, “we could try and search the ship … discreetly of course.”
“Ja, of course,” Wilhelm echoed with a grin. “Come, it is mein ship, let me show you about.”
Anthony chuckled, while the two men headed below decks, away from the watchful eyes of some of the crew.
Towards the stern of the ship, the pair walked along the short corridor to the small officer cabins and the common room that connected them. Hunter recognized the layout through similarity to what he was accustomed to aboard the Brass Griffin.
“And these are the main cabins. Some are officers, some are for passengers,” Wilhelm said gesturing at the cabins as the two men walked through the doorway.
“Very nice, larger than what I have aboard the Griffin,” Hunter replied, then he lowered his voice. “Do you believe there is time for a quick search?”
“Right now? Nein,” Wilhelm said after a moment’s consideration, then he smiled. “However, let me go on deck and be a distraction. That would buy you much more time.”
“What are you planning?” Anthony asked suspiciously.
“Clark may be the kapitän, but the Revenge is my ship, ja?” Captain Wilhelm asked. “Then I can make a ‘spot inspection’!”