Gaston and I were far from unmarred. I knew I would be stiff later, and by the morrow I might feel nearly as bad as I had after taking the beating in the tavern. As my flesh had not yet fully recovered from that debacle, it was not pleased with me in the least. Thankfully, I had only taken a few blows to the face, and none severe. Gaston now had a split lip and a blackened eye, though. He smiled at me happily as we checked one another over; then judging me not in imminent danger of expiring, he turned to the others.
Julio and Otter had been harmed so that they either could not stand, or were not willing to. Pete was crowing in victory. Striker was leaning over with his hands on his knees, panting, with a wry smile twisting his battered lips.
“Well, that was exhilarating,” I told him.
He swore, but his smile widened. “If you have any other stupid ideas, we must discuss them while sober. By God, I hope they learned something.”
I laughed and threw an arm around his shoulders. “They had best, or we will be repeating the lesson.”
“Na’ all o’ us,” Liam snapped from behind me.
We turned, and found Gaston tending to a gash on Otter’s head. The Dutchman was also cradling his arm to his chest.
“How is he?” Striker asked.
“I will live,” Otter said.
Gaston awarded us a compressed smile. “He is correct. His wrist is wrenched and I must sew this cut. I have not examined Julio, but he says his ankle is likewise wrenched.”
We looked to Julio and found him giving a thin grin and terse nod in agreement. He sat with his right leg carefully extended. Davey and he looked as bad as Gaston and I.
“How are the rest of us?” Striker asked.
Pete walked up and popped one of his fingers into proper alignment with the rest. I winced more than he at the sight of it. He pulled his kerchief off and wrapped it about the wounded digit and its neighbors. His nose looked bloodied and askew, and I thought it likely his golden skin would soon be purple in many a place.
“IBeFine,” Pete said. He squatted next to Otter. “BastardTha’HitYa BeLyin’OverThar.”
We looked. The man he pointed to was one of six I saw who were not rousing themselves from the sand with groans and curses, as so many of their compatriots were. Gaston went to him and examined him gently, before pronouncing him alive and realigning his head into a more comfortable position before moving on to the next man. Thankfully, none of the six who did not rise were dead; though Gaston expressed concern over two of them and wanted them carried carefully to the camps on the beach. The others he assigned men to watch.
The new men not engaged in helping the wounded were coming back toward us, slowly. They were all quite serious now.
Cudro had sobered sufficiently to join us. He looked about, and his excellent voice boomed across the beach. “What happened to the lot of ya?” he harangued the men.
“They be good,” one man yelled back. “Damn good. We can’t fight like that.”
“Bullocks!” Striker countered loudly, surprising the men. “We’re not all that good. Two of our number are excellent at this form of combat; the rest of us aren’t.”
“Aye,” Cudro boomed. He turned on me. “Will, what were you doing?”
“Watching my matelot’s back, and seeing where we might be needed,” I said for all to hear.
“And you?” Cudro asked of Striker.
“The same,” Striker said.
“And you?” the Dutchman asked of Liam.
“Tryin’ ta help me matelot, an’ not get in the way o’ the others,” the Scotsman said with some frustration.
Cudro continued to call on each of us in the circle in turn.
“Helpin’ Julio,” Davey said indignantly.
“Trying to keep Liam and me from being dragged away,” Otter said. “So that we did not lose because of us.”
“Disabling as many opponents as I could reach,” Gaston said, and sighed as he examined another injured man. “And preventing any of our number from being dragged away.”
“What’ESaid,” Pete bellowed. “SoThereBeLess O’ThemTaFightAnWe Win.”
“You?” Cudro bellowed at a hapless man beyond the circle. “What were you doing?”
“I w-w-were t-t-tryin’ ta grab one o’ ’em,” the man said.
Cudro pointed at another man, one of Ash’s young gentleman associates.
The boy pointed at a downed older man at his feet. “This man thought the thin blond man was a good target,” he said defiantly. “I agreed. So I was attempting to assist him. And then the large blond man stopped us.”
“Good!” Cudro boomed. “You did well. You were working with another.”
The youth blinked. “Oh.”
“That’s right!” Striker yelled at them. “Buccaneers fight in pairs. We work together. You saw that today. Eight men working together can defeat three times their number.”
“Sir? Can we try it again?” someone asked.
This was greeted by a great many curses from his comrades and laughter from Striker.
“Not bloody likely,” Striker said. “I will not be willing to face you boys again if you learned anything from this day.”
This seemed to amuse them.
“I want the lot of you to pair up,” Striker said. “You need not lie with one another, but you must find a man to stand at your side in battle. Nor need it be a man among your own number. There are men amongst the Brethren who have lost their matelots and seek another. Find someone to stand with. Now, help get the wounded back to the camps. We’ve all had enough for today.”
The men eyed one another with a new intent. I would have felt victorious, if I had not spent the remainder of the day steeped in guilt as I assisted Gaston in caring for the injured. They had learned, but at the price of many a wrenched joint, broken bone, and blackened eye. But of course, that was better than their not learning, which would have had a higher cost indeed.
That evening, we ended our seeing to Gaston’s patients where we had begun, with Liam and Otter, as they were at our fire. Otter appeared to be sleeping contentedly, but Liam did not look as if he would rest anytime soon. He was frowning at the waves and jabbing a knife repeatedly into the sand. In another, I would have attributed this behavior to agitation, but I had not seen Liam exhibit its like before. Belatedly, I recalled his reaction to other events and words, and that I had wished to speak with him.
I motioned Gaston away and, as he too was frowning at Liam’s sand-stabbing. He gave a curt nod and went to sit where we would sleep.
“Are you well?” I asked Liam quietly.
He seemed surprised to be addressed. “I be fine.”
I was heartened when he stopped stabbing the sand and seemed surprised he had been doing so. I sat next to him and pitched my voice for his ears alone.
“I am sorry Otter was so badly injured,” I said. “I feel I should not have asked you to participate. You are musketeers, after all, and valued for your ability to shoot; which poor Otter cannot now do with his wrist as it is. I wish there had been another way to teach them, and perhaps there was and I was too stupid to see it. I feel guilt over the number of injured this night, especially when one is a friend and carries more value than the rest of them put together. I only hope the sacrifice of his well-being will save some of their lives.”
Liam took a long breath and spoke sadly. “It na’ be your fault. Ya’ did well. Ya’ be right, on all counts. They’ll learn now, and live.” Then he added vehemently, “And by God, Otter be ten times the man o’ any o’ ’em. It should ’ave been me. I’m worthless. The only things I be valued for is firin’’ somethin’, whether it be me musket or me mouth.”
“And you are valued highly for those things,” I said lightly.
“Aye, am I now? Well the one, surely but the other? All know me as a gossip, and ’tis not a thing valued. I can keep a secret, though. I keep many secrets.”
“Liam, at no point have I wished to impugn your honor. I daresay you are especiall
y good at keeping secrets, mainly because few will expect that you hold any, as they feel you tell all. Your propensity for gossip could be considered a distraction for holding that which is most true far from prying eyes.”
He frowned and sighed. “No man trusts me, even Otter at times… I said a thing too many once an’ he has never forgiven me. He don’t believe in tellin’ no one nothin’. Not even…” He trailed off and shook his head with annoyance. “There I go again. ’Tis as if I canna’ shut me mouth. The words just want ta be tumblin’ out.”
I endeavored to find the words to assuage his guilt. I did not feel he was a bad man for doing as he did. I had known others like him, men driven to confess all, to share all perhaps, with anyone who would listen. I was sometimes such a man.
“I often feel as you do,” I said carefully. “I feel I cannot hold back the words. I find myself frustrated that others will not address things that must be spoken of. I feel compelled perhaps, to insure that all know whatever they might need to know of a situation, even, and sometimes especially, if another party does not wish it to be known for reasons which might be injurious to the party I tell. I do not believe secrets should be kept unless they have great import… and then, well, those secrets are my own: the ones so dark I cannot find the words to speak of them to any except…” I sighed.
I was not sure if that was what he needed to hear, and I felt that it was not a thing I wished to dwell on. He was frowning at the waves. I needed to take another tack.
“I trust you, Liam,” I said. “I trust you not to betray a confidence for the sake of doing so. I feel that your curiosity about the business of others is motivated by a sincere interest in their well-being, and I feel your garrulity is motivated by love and friendship, a wish to share knowledge. And I believe mankind has always needed men who are willing to tell the tales and spread the news. In this latest matter with my matelot, you spread a lie for the sake of a friend. We trusted you to do so. You could have as easily spread the truth, which was that we wanted a lie spread. If I had thought for one second that you would do such a thing, I would not have involved you at all.”
He turned to me with thoughtful surprise. “Aye, I suppose that be true. I had na’ seen it as such. You all make jest of me, and I be thinkin’… Aye, I just didna’ see it so.”
I smiled with relief. I had found the words after all.
“Liam, you are an excellent shot, and I do not fear you will shoot a comrade, as long as you know where the man stands.”
He grinned. “That be so. But iffn’ a man don’t tell me a thing be a secret…” he looked to his sleeping matelot and sighed.
“I hope you can resolve the matter with Otter someday.”
“That wouldna’ be the only thing we tussle o’er, but that be the way o’ it,” he said sadly.
“I believe so.”
I left him smiling at the sea.
The next day, the men who could move were more amenable to training, but as all were bruised and sore, we did not seek to exert either them or ourselves. That evening, our cabal was followed back to our camp by a gaggle of seven of the new men, some still seeking instruction, but others seeking something else entirely. As we dropped into the places we had claimed in a rough circle in the smoke of our cook fire, they clustered awkwardly nearby. Striker invited them to sit with us, and soon he and Liam were telling tales; and roast beef and a bottle of wine were passed about.
Sallow-faced Ash was among them, and he had been followed by another young gentleman who went by the name of Nickel. This planter’s son was pretty, with delicate features and fine blond hair that rivaled Liam’s in its paleness. I had noticed him before, both because he was particularly beautiful, though not in a way I had ever favored, and also because Liam had taken a liking to him, as the boy had proven to be quite the marksman.
Another of the men who had shown promise in that area was also among our guests. He was a tall, thin, lanky man everyone called Bones. This was due to there seeming to be little betwixt his skin and skeleton. Despite its crags, his bony face was amiable enough: he had a wide toothy grin that went from ear to ear. He appeared well-seasoned to either the tropics or the sea. His hide was tanned brown and weathered, and he kept his dark hair shorter than his well-trimmed beard. I had not heard if he learned to shoot in the navy or army, but there was a manner about him that made me suspect a stint in the military; yet he did not bow or scrape or treat any of us like officers.
He stood in contrast to another of our guests, Burroughs. He had obviously spent a number of years in the army, and he was having great difficulty freeing himself from those habits. He was a big, burly man: not fat, but wide across the shoulder, with arms nearly as big as my thighs. He was balding early, so that he appeared older than he probably was; and he had a nasty scar across his right eye and cheekbone, though the eye beneath was miraculously intact. He had not proven to have much of a gift for muskets; but he had taken to the cutlass well, and was one of the few who had given us a bit of trouble in the game the day before. Cudro thought he would be a fine boarder.
All the new men with us were enthralled by Liam’s and Striker’s tales in their own ways: some listened with quiet amusement, and others asked questions here and there.
When Striker finished telling of our gold-laden galleon sinking in the storm, Ash asked, “I understand how that gold is lost, but I do not understand how you are all so poor if you have been at this for so long. I was told there were riches to be plundered from the Spanish.”
This elicited laughter all around.
“You’ll not get rich at this,” Striker said.
“An’ who says we be poor?” Liam added.
“Aye,” Cudro rumbled, “some of us have land, six of us own that ship, and several of us have money hidden away.”
“You do not live like rich men,” Ash said.
I shook my head. “While it is probably true that none here possesses the money your father has, or mine – well, actually, one among us does, and I still might inherit – but we are well enough for men who hardly work and spend many of our days lazing about in paradise with no one to give us orders.”
All of our cabal cheered. As I looked about I realized another aspect of the matter.
“And,” I continued, “I cannot speak for all, but I do not believe any of us came to the Brethren to seek our fortunes. I came for adventure and romance, and to escape my father’s plans.”
“I was exiled,” Gaston added.
“Pete and I were shipped here as slaves,” Striker said.
“Otter and I got conscripted inta the roundhead army,” Liam said.
“I escaped slavery,” Julio said.
“So did I, but on a ship,” Davey said.
“I came here looking for work as a pilot,” the Bard said.
“I was exiled somewhat, and then conscripted,” Dickey said after some consideration.
This brought amusement to all who knew him, as Dickey was the only one among us who had been forced – though kindly – to join the Brethren and had not sought them as a means of escape.
At this, the new men began to speak.
“I’m escapin’ my old life,” Bones said with a lethargic mien. “An’ even if I must be poor here, it’s a helluva a lot better than where I was.”
“Amen,” Burroughs said with a grin.
“My father wanted me to join the clergy,” Nickel said quietly.
I looked to Ash. “You must decide if you seek adventure or gold. If you truly seek gold, go and study the law.”
Ash sighed heavily. “I just heard so many tales.”
“And what would you do if you became rich beyond imaging?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Not study the law, and lie around on beaches drinking.”
“I’mStartin’TaLike’Im,” Pete said with a loud guffaw.
“I had another question,” Nickel said when the laughter ebbed. “How is it that you all came to choose the matelots you did? I wish to understand
the criteria for making such a decision.”
This was initially met with quiet amusement until Liam addressed it.
“We na’ be askin’ ya ta choose a matelot, we be askin’ ya ta pair up for fightin’. A matelot be different. Matelotage be a matter of great import amongst the Brethren. A matelot be a man’s partner. Matelots share everything they ’ave. If a man canna’ speak for ’isself, ’is matelot can speak for ’im. They need na be buggerin’ one another, but more often than na’ it comes ta that in the end. “
“It is akin to marriage,” I added, and Liam nodded agreement.
“Aye,” Striker said. “You may pair with a man for fighting and then decide to become matelots later if it is amenable to both of you, and that is often the way of it; but we are not asking you to choose a man to make that sort of commitment with.”
This led to a good deal of thoughtful nodding by our guests.
“Then I will rephrase my question,” Nickel said. “How is it you came to pair with the men you did who you later became matelots with?”
This led to more chuckling and laughter among our cabal.
“Well,” Striker sighed, “Davey and Julio were the only ones of us who started in that fashion. Davey was new to us and needed a man to board with. Julio had no matelot. They agreed to pair.” He shrugged. “They became matelots within the week. The rest of us… Pete and I met in Newgate and we were chained together for the voyage here, sold as bondsmen together, and escaped together. After all of that, we just stayed together.”
“Aye, that often be the way o’ it,” Liam said. “Otter an’ me both came by accident ta join Cromwell’s forces. As we were both good with a musket, we ended up in the same unit on the march to take Saint Jago. Most of the men died, but we were lucky and lived ta come ta Jamaica. By then we ‘ad gotten ta know one another, an’ since men be dyin’ on Jamaica, Otter wanted ta go to try ’is luck with the Brethren, though we knew little o’ ’em. I decided ta go with ’im. We been together since.”
“What of you, L… Will?” Ash asked.
This brought even more amusement from our friends.
“There was little practical consideration and a great deal of assumption in our partnering,” I said. “We met on a street in Port Royal one day; by that night we were committing piracy together; by the next day we decided to sail on the North Wind; the morning after that, I entered into a discussion concerning matelotage during the articles, and someone,” I pointed at Cudro, “asked if I had a matelot, and thus grounds to have the position I did on that matter – and a chorus of fools on the quarterdeck,” I flung the empty bottle at Striker, who ducked with a laugh, “confirmed for all that, aye, indeed I did.”
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