Free Web NovelChapter 16: The Republic of Pirates
The Bloody Rose eased into Nassau’s harbor beneath a sky blurred by woodsmoke.
The harbor itself looked crowded but not organized. Sloops and brigantines sat anchored wherever their captains had apparently felt it was good enough. Nobody seemed interested in imposing authority, and nobody seemed to expect it.
The air had the familiar smells of tar, rot, and spilled rum, thick enough that James could almost taste them. Somewhere along the shoreline, shipwrights hammered away at repairs. The noise mixed with distant shouting that sounded equally likely to be business, an argument, or a fight.
Nassau spread beyond the docks in a dense collection of buildings pressed close together. Most taverns lacked signs. There was little reason for them. The people who mattered already knew where everything was.
Smoke drifted upward from cookfires, workshops, and a number of less obvious sources.
"There she is," someone shouted from the ropes. "Civilization."
"That’s Nassau, ye blind bastard," another man called back.
The laughter that followed had a familiar energy. Most of the crew had little coin left, but that wasn’t going to stop them from acting rich for at least one more evening.
Briggs moved across the deck without comment. That was his way of reminding everyone that the ship still needed work done.
The celebration would last only as long as the men’s remaining money.
James knew it. Cudjoe knew it. Neither saw any reason to point it out.
"Right."
Cudjoe joined him at the rail. "I’ll stay wi’ the ship. Sawyer’ll want a proper look at that hull, and somebody’ll have tae stand in port shoutin’ that we need hands before the good ones get snapped up by someone with a prettier ship."
James nodded to that. Recruiting quickly was important. Nassau was full of sailors, but the competent ones rarely stayed available for long.
"I’ll go find Hornigold."
Cudjoe kept his eyes on the harbor. "Aye. Keep one hand on yer purse." freeweɓnovel.cѳm
"Does Hornigold rob people now?"
"Nae. But every conversation wi’ the man seems tae cost us money somehow."
"Lovely. Anythin’ else, while I’m out enjoyin’ myself?"
Cudjoe snorted, "We’ve enough for repairs and provisions. Not enough for what we’ll need tae go back out properly crewed and properly armed."
That was the real problem. Repairs kept a ship afloat. Men and guns made it dangerous.
Cudjoe finally glanced at him.
"Findin’ the coins is yer job, Captain. Not mine."
"You say that like it’s a small thing."
"I say it like it’s yer problem."
"Ye’re a cruel man, Cudjoe."
Cudjoe deadpanned, "And ye’re the one who fell off his own foremast last night, so I’ll nae be takin’ notes on competence from ye today."
James grinned despite himself. His ribs immediately reminded him the fall had been real enough.
"That’s a low blow."
"It’s a good one. Go find Hornigold before I think of a worse one."
James pushed away from the wheel.
Halfway towards the rear of the ship, he caught a loose rope that hanged from the rigging , stepped onto the rail, and jumped.
The rope snapped taut beneath his weight.
He swung out over the deck, boots skimming above the heads of two sailors carrying a barrel, then released at the bottom of the arc.
He landed in a crouch near the gangway and rose without breaking stride.
Nobody paid him much attention. Most of the crew had seen him do worse.
A crewman intercepted him before he could make his escape, already extending a hand.
"Captain, any chance of an advance against next month’s..."
"Ask Cudjoe." James kept walking. "He’s in a generous mood."
"He is not!" Cudjoe shouted after him without turning.
James stepped off the gangplank onto weathered timber darkened by years of salt and spilled tar.
The dock bustled around him. Men hauled barrels ashore. Others loaded fresh supplies aboard ships preparing to leave. The air smelled of fish, pitch, smoke, and a dozen competing meals cooking somewhere deeper in town.
Meg was waiting for him near the end of the wharf.
"There’s a tavern two streets up that doesn’t smell of dead fish."
As normal, she skipped any greeting. "Better clientele than most of what’s here. I’m going to look at it properly before I decide anything."
James suspected she had already made up most of her mind.
"Sound thinkin’. If somebody gives you trouble, let me know."
Meg stared at him for a second. The reaction was strange enough that James almost asked about it.
Then the expression vanished. frёeωebɳovel.com
"I’ll keep that in mind."
She turned and headed toward the street.
James watched her go, left with the feeling he’d missed part of a conversation that had happened entirely inside her head.
Nassau swallowed him after only a few streets.
The roads were dirt. The buildings existed largely because someone had decided to build them and nobody had stopped them. The entire town seemed to run on booze, sweat, and woodsmoke.
Outside one tavern, two men argued over a dice game. One had hold of the other’s coat and refused to give it back.
"The debt’s three shillin’s."
"The coat’s worth ten."
"Then ye shouldnae have wagered it."
A ring of spectators had already formed around them. If no solution appeared, fists would probably settle the dispute.
A few doors farther down, a woman leaned against a doorway.
"Suck yer cock for a shilling, take it proper for two."
She barely paused before calling the same offer after the next man.
Farther along, a goat stood with its head buried in a fruit cart.
The owner lunged for it. The goat skipped away with an apple in its mouth.
"Maldito cabrón! Get back here, ye thievin’ bastard! Bondye modi’w!"
Outside another tavern, this one crowded enough that more men stood outside than inside, James caught part of a conversation.
"Jennings says Hornigold’s gone soft."
Not so quiet that nobody would hear. Quiet enough that the right people might.
He continued, "Won’t touch a British flag if it’s got coin under it. Some of the lads are sayin’ it’s time somebody else ran things round here."
James kept walking.
It was the sort of thing worth remembering. Nassau ran on rumors almost as much as it ran on rum, but repeated rumors normally pointed toward a real problem.
He had just shrugged the comment away when the street ahead abruptly stopped being clear.
A man stepped into his path.
The fellow was roughly the size of a small building.
The man was drunk, deeply drunk. The sort of drunk that turned walking into a task requiring concentration. He swayed with stubborn determination, as though refusing to admit the ground had become unreliable.
James tried to step aside, but not quickly enough.
His shoulder struck the man’s chest.
The large man stopped moving.
Slowly, he looked down.
It took a second for the collision to reach whatever part of his mind was currently in charge.
When it did, he scowled.
"Ye."
The word carried the weight of a full accusation.
"Ye walked intae me."
James saw no advantage in arguing.
"Looks that way. My apologies. Big fella like yourself, hard to miss, but I managed it anyway."
The man’s hand closed around the front of James’s coat.
"Nobody walks intae me."
The crowd outside the tavern had already noticed. Heads were turning. Men were shifting for a better view.
Free entertainment rarely stayed free for long.
"Ye’re gonnae regret that."
