Free Web NovelChapter 30: The Rose’s Luck
James sat at the cabin table with a chart spread flat beneath an inkpot. His spare pistol rested beside it. So did the marlinspike he kept meaning to put away and somehow never did.
Morning light poured through the stern windows, already hot. Nassau didn’t seem to believe in gentle mornings.
Three days.
That number kept coming back to him.
Three days earlier, the Rose had limped into harbor damaged and vulnerable. Now she looked capable of surviving an encounter with five Guarda Costa sloops, assuming nothing went catastrophically wrong.
Looking back over the work, James found it difficult to separate one task from another. The whole deal felt less like repairing a ship and more like watching a fever finally break.
Sawyer had spent most of those days high in the foremast, muttering at the replacement yard as though it owed him a debt. The halyard splice he’d been threatening to fix since the frigate battle was finally finished. The shrouds had been retarred. The broken wood below the break had been set straight again.
Every time James looked up, he checked for the result.
The mast was steady and firm.
More importantly, the fear that it might collapse in a hard wind and kill half the crew had finally faded. That alone justified the expense.
The crew made even less sense than the repairs.
Seventy-some men who, by any sane standard, should never have been trusted aboard the same ship were now hauling line, setting tackle, and coiling rope as though they’d worked together for years.
Mackerel Jim had already convinced half the gun deck that he’d survived a shark attack through sheer force of unpleasant breath.
Bert discussed powder with Briggs using the manners of a man politely requesting more supper.
The Hollis brothers were still fighting over which one was actually which. The argument was loud enough that James suspected it might outlast the voyage itself.
Somehow all of them now answered to him.
When he thought about that, he found himself smiling instead of regretting it.
The supplies and powder owed more to Cudjoe than to James, though James fully intended to claim credit the first chance he got.
Every cask had been loaded.
Every barrel of provisions had been counted.
Then counted again because Cudjoe considered a single count an invitation to disaster.
Every shilling had been spent carefully and accounted for afterward.
The ship would not fail for lack of preparation.
He had visited the Drowned Rat twice during the repairs.
Both times Anne had looked at him like a gift that bears an uncomfortable resemblance to a problem.
Both times she had said nothing.
That silence had its own message.
Meg had taken her place behind the bar within hours of arriving and worked as though she’d spent years there already. The two women appeared to have reached the sort of understanding capable people reached when they decided fighting would cost more than cooperation.
James approved of the outcome. Whether they had become friends or simply agreed not to kill one another remained unclear.
What bothered him was realizing Anne’s silence unsettled him more than her anger would have.
He chose not to look too closely at that.
Hornigold had given him five minutes of advice in the rough tone of who had watched ventures like this fail repeatedly. James listened because there was no reason not to.
Most of the advice was useful.
The rest cost nothing to hear.
Thatch had handled the remaining preparations.
Since their meeting at the tavern, he’d attacked every discussion with that very focused intensity. Bearings were checked. Signals were reviewed. Then they were checked again.
By the end, even Thatch seemed satisfied there was nothing left to question.
James forced his attention back to the chart.
Thatch’s pencil marks crossed the shoal waters off the Florida coast. The handwriting was sharper and more precise than James would have expected. Soundings were marked in neat cartographer’s script.
James’s own rough cross marked the point where the flotilla should pass if their lead proved accurate.
He traced the route with a finger.
The information matched.
That didn’t guarantee success, but it removed one uncertainty.
"Right then."
He glanced around the empty cabin. "Let’s find out what shape we’re actually leavin’ port in before enthusiasm gets every last one of them killed."
Familiar lettering appeared in the air.
⚓ [SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Quest Complete: Make Yourself Useful
Reward: Ship Perk — [The Rose’s Luck]
You have successfully acquired a crew, restored a vessel previously mistaken for debris, and accumulated sufficient funds to support both endeavors.
Statistically, this outcome was unlikely. freewebnøvel.coɱ
I would congratulate you, but the event has already occurred and cannot be improved by additional praise.
James snorted.
"Comfortin’."
The message vanished.
A new display appeared before he finished speaking.
🏴 [BLOODY ROSE — STATUS]
Hull Condition : Good
Armament : 18 Broadside Cannons
Gunpowder Supply : 22 Casks
Provisions : 12 Days
Crew : 73 / 80
Morale : High
Loyalty : Steadfast
Perks : [The Rose’s Luck] — When circumstances become impossible, this vessel gains a small chance to discover a technicality. The technicality is rarely safe. It is usually funny.
Crew cohesion has increased by 187%. No, I do not know why. The crew does not appear to know why either.
James read through the display once.
Seventy-three crewmen instead of thirty-nine.
A hull that no longer demanded inspection every hour.
A ship perk that apparently confused causality itself.
That raised questions.
None of them had answers.
"Look at that. We almost resemble professionals."
The empty room, predictably, had no reply.
Instead, the crew listing unfolded immediately.
MACKEREL JIM — CREW
Status : Fit for duty
Age : Disputed, according to Jim
Aboard : 1 day
Note : Routinely describes experiences that are either impossible, heavily embellished, or somehow both simultaneously. Repeated attempts to separate fact from fiction have failed. Current recommendation is to treat all statements as false until independently verified. This process has already failed twice.
James shook his head.
"That sounds about right."
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Though if he tells me he wrestled a hurricane next week, I’m puttin’ a small wager on the hurricane."
ALBERT ("BERT") — CREW
Status : Fit for duty
Age : Undisclosed. He apologized for withholding it.
Aboard : 1 day
Note : Displays stable and productive behavior while sober. Upon consumption of alcohol, subject is replaced by an individual sharing the same name, appearance, and fingerprints. One is considerably more destructive.
That much was accurate.
Bert contained what seemed to be two distinct men.
Fortunately, only one of them routinely destroyed furniture.
EZRA AND SILAS HOLLIS — CREW
Status : Fit for duty
Age : Undisclosed. He apologized for withholding it.
Aboard : 1 day
Note : One individual claims to be Ezra. The second individual also claims to be Ezra. Statistically, at least one must be correct.
"The worst part is I’d not even be surprised if both are wrong."
James rolled the chart tighter beneath one arm.
He had just finished securing it when Cudjoe’s voice carried through the door.
"Captain! Thatch is askin’ for ye. Says he’s nae spendin’ all mornin’ waitin’."
James stood.
That solved the next problem immediately.
The ship was repaired.
The crew was assembled.
The plan was as ready as it was ever going to be.
He tucked the chart beneath one arm, reached for his coat, and headed for the door.
The Rose was ready.
Ready as she’d ever be. Time to go find out if that was good enough.
