Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots (67 page)

“Food, the King’s House, then Theodore and Agnes?” I asked.

He grunted his assent, and so we went first to the market. We did not proceed immediately to the King’s House with our fish, though; instead, we chose to find a shady place to sit near the wharf and eat.

“I wish to go riding,” Gaston said after we had watched several wherries land.

The idea delighted me. “Then let us prove we are yet free men.”

He grinned.

We rented a wherry and rowed across the passage. We could not remember the name of the farm at which our horses now resided, and stopped at the livery to inquire if they knew the place we sought. They were actually quite helpful; and soon, instead of riding, we were jogging toward Spanish Town with a rough idea of where we needed to turn off the road to reach Byerly Farm. It was mid-morning before we actually located our mounts, but we cared not. We surprised the plantation’s livery boys by taking loops of rope to make halter bridles and happily running into the field to fetch Diablo and Francis. The animals seemed to remember us, and though they were fractious, we were soon off and running with manes in our faces and grins on our lips.

We did not ride to Ithaca. We galloped along roads we had never taken before, to the south of Spanish Town. We walked idly through pastures and orchards, stealing fruit when we hungered. We even made love on horseback, a thing I had not done with a man before.

At last the sun began to sink to the west. I found I longed to follow it. “If I did not feel Striker would need us on this voyage, I would say let us just continue to ride west until we reach Negril,” I commented.

Gaston sighed. “Our muskets are on the ship. I can hunt without one, but…”

“Pity that,” I said. “We should have exercised more forethought.”

“Oui,” Gaston said with a smile. “We should have stayed at Negril.”

He put his heels to Francis, and we were off and running back toward their home.

It was dusk when we at last returned to the wharf at the Passage Fort. Our men would be gathering on the Virgin Queen, and debauch would soon hold sway there. I had been supposed to speak with Striker about Ashland’s services. And of course there were a number of people we should bid farewell to. As we rowed across the passage, I felt pursued by a wave of guilt. I did not allow it to gain on me, though; instead, I concentrated on how pleasurably sore my arse was and rowed faster.

“Where have you been?” Sarah demanded, once Coswold admitted us to the King’s House.

She had been in the parlor with my bride, who now glared at both of us and then took to studying the wall.

“We had something unexpected to attend to,” I said glibly. “Now we are here to bid you farewell. Has Striker gone on to the ship?”

“Hours ago,” she snapped, but despite her rancor she embraced us both.

“Are Uncle and…”

“They are at Mister Theodore’s,” she said. “They went looking for you.”

I sighed. “We will catch up to them before we leave.”

She glared over her shoulder at the parlor, and then led us into the dining room and shut the door.

“You must take care of him,” she said quietly.

“We will do all that we can,” I assured her.

“He confided to me that he has never fought the Spanish without Pete,” she said.

“Aye, he has not,” I said. “We will care for him, and it is my hope that he can be reunited with Pete for the purposes of combat if nothing else.”

She took a long, tired breath and sat. “I would have that, too,” she said sadly.

“What did you say to Pete, may we ask?”

She looked from one to the other of us and sighed. “I told him I would share James with him, and that… if it was Pete’s wish, and it would ease the matter, I was willing to act as wife to both of them.”

She flushed at the last, and I sighed.

“What did he say?” I asked when she seemed to find studying the wood grain of the table to hold far more appeal than continuing.

“He said… that he would think on it,” she whispered.

Even though she brought her gaze up to meet mine again, I felt she dissembled.

“Is that a thing you would truly wish, or is it a compromise you feel you might have to make?” I asked carefully.

Her eyes left mine quickly. “I would rather have them both than lose Striker.”

“Do you feel Striker might return to Pete and abandon you?” I asked.

She shook her head quickly. “Nay. He… That is, James, spoke at great length about what you all might face, and how buccaneers fought in pairs, and that Pete has ever been at his side, and he does not know how he will fare without him.”

“Was that before or after Pete arrived?” I asked.

“After. Before…” She flushed anew. “We did not speak a great deal.”

I found I did not wish to dwell on that.

“I do not feel that Pete will allow him to be harmed,” I said, “no matter how angry he might be.”

“I feel…” she paused and returned to tracing the whorls in the wood with her thumb. “Is there no way that James can acquire a partner for combat who he does nothing else with?”

“He is a captain now,” Gaston said before I could answer. “He is not expected to board, and even in raiding, it is not the same. That is why many of the captains no longer have matelots.”

This seemed to brighten her mood.

“You would rather he not have a matelot?” I asked her.

She shook her head sadly and did not look up at me. “Nay, I would rather he were mine alone.” She sighed. “I wish Pete no ill will, and I will do as I say if it comes to that; but I would rather Pete find someone else.”

I could hear a rumble of amusement from the Gods, and I thought she might be disappointed. I felt spiteful satisfaction in that. I supposed I did not wish it to be so easy to split a pair such as our wolves asunder, even for her happiness.

“We will see what comes to pass,” I said gently.

“Aye, we will see.” Her gaze finally returned to mine. “And take care of one another, as well. I would have all of you return to me.”

“I should hope so,” I teased.

We embraced her in parting, and left without a word to anyone else.

I caught Gaston regarding me askance as we trudged south with aching legs.

“What?” I asked.

“It is unfair to her, and even Striker, but I would have her lose,” he said.“Do not feel guilt, or perhaps we should, but… Well, I would also rather the same occur.”

“Then I am relieved you will not hold it against me,” he said.

I grinned. “Never. Truth be told, I know far more of Pete and Striker than I do of her, and blood may be thicker than all things, but friendship is a bond not to be trifled with. And… her winning, as it were, lends validation to all things becoming as others feel they ought, whereas her losing, per se, lends validation to the path I have chosen – which many say leads to ruin.”

“I feel that, too,” Gaston said somberly. “Even though…” His words trailed off with a guilty look.

I guessed. “Even though you feel as Striker does about the fairer sex.”“Oui.”

“Do not fret on the matter,” I chided. “Think of riding horses.”

He chuckled. “Oui, let us not think.”

My uncle and Rucker were indeed at Theodore’s, dining. All appeared relieved to see us.

“I was going to send a boy to the ship to inquire of you if you did not show soon,” Theodore chided.

“Sorry to worry you so,” I said cheerfully. “We are here now to take our leave.”

“You are here now to write your father,” he said.

“Damn you,” I sighed.

He gave a disparaging snort and led us to his office. So once again I found myself at his desk with pen in hand and a blank page before me.

“Tell me what to say,” I whined to Gaston.

He did not smile. “Father, I have wed the bitch you sent. Marsdale.”

I laughed. In the end, the piece I wrote was not dissimilar, and though it was a bit more diplomatic, it was nearly as succinct.

I soon handed the single folded and sealed sheet to Theodore. He did not remark on its lack of heft.

My uncle and Rucker were still at the table. We joined them and Hannah brought us each a bowl of soup. I was relieved, as we had not eaten since morning.

“We have been discussing the plantation,” my uncle said carefully.

I sighed and remembered what we must speak of. I looked to Theodore. “Are they truly growing food, and is Fletcher teaching the Negroes English?”

“Aye and aye,” Theodore said with a small smile.

“The other planters do not do such things,” my uncle said. “And as there are no plantations in England, I hardly feel it is a matter of new traditions verses the old.”

I sighed. “It is a matter of my traditions verses those of others. It is a thing I wish, and as Father has little use for the place, and does not seem overly concerned about it making a profit in and of itself, I do not see why anyone should attempt to gainsay me on the matter.”

Uncle Cedric considered that for a time. “As you will then, boy,” he said at last with a tired sigh.

I looked to Rucker. “Once the Negroes speak enough English, I am sure much could be learned of their native ways.”

He nodded enthusiastically at this, and I thought he would say more if not for my uncle’s glowering presence.

I looked to Theodore. “If there is any doubt as to Mister Rucker’s place in any of the endeavors afoot, consider him to be in my employ.” I looked to Rucker again. “If that meets with your desires, of course.”

Rucker nodded and Theodore smiled.

With that, we said our goodbyes and they all wished us well, some more fervently than others.

Agnes had cleared away the results of last night’s festivities, and the house looked none the worse. We found her sketching sleeping dogs.

She seemed surprised we were not already gone with the others.

“When the new houses are built, where shall I live?” she asked.

“Wherever you wish,” I said. “You may remain here, if you like.”

“But you will be selling this house to Mister Cudro,” she said.

“Oh that, well, reside with… Mistress Striker then.” I shrugged.

“You will not expect me to live with Lady Marsdale?” she asked.

“Nay, never. And I thought we discussed this once,” I chided.

“In passing,” she said with far more authority than I had heard from her before. “I just wished to be sure.”

I saw the effort she put into not fidgeting with her long fingers as she awaited my response. Her gaze was steady when it met mine, though.

I endeavored to compare what I could remember of her behavior these past few days with the way she was when we were here before. I decided she had been quite a bit more forceful of late. I was proud of her. I smiled. “You are your own mistress, Agnes. Do as you will. Truly.”

She curtsied. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“And stop that. Take care of yourself and the dogs while we are gone, and let no one tell you otherwise.”

“You are contradictory,” Gaston said as we retreated to our room.

“If she did not wish to stay here and care for the dogs I do not believe she would.”

“True, yet what will she do once we sell this house and live with your sister while in port, if that is to be our plan?” he asked.

“Oh Hell, I do not know,” I sighed. “Let us hope she will be happy living with my sister, too.”

“Would you, if you were drawn to another and yet knew there would never be any chance of sating your desires?” he asked with a cocked head.

“Non, as you are well aware,” I sighed.

I had forgotten Agnes’ attraction to my sister and all things female.

“Perhaps she will find someone,” I said.

“There is always hope of that,” he said with a smile.

I began to sort through our things, considering what else we would need on a lengthy voyage, and packing away the items of finery I had been forced to wear here. Gaston considered his medicine chest. I was heartened by this.

“Do you wish to bring it?” I asked carefully.

He sighed. “You might be injured. I would have my own tools and ingredients.”

“I would prefer such a thing.”

He nodded and saw that the various drawers and compartments were packed and latched securely. Then we both took up bags of extra ammunition and a handle on the medicine chest, and with one final farewell to Agnes and the dogs, we walked into the street and joined the men trickling toward the Chocolata Hole.

The festivities had advanced to the stage of overt drunkenness on the part of all aboard by the time we arrived at the Queen. We worked our way through the teeming deck and stowed our belongings in the crowded cabin. I prayed all I saw would not sail with us. If they did, it appeared we would be even more crowded than we had been on the way to Cow Island.

I was, however, delighted to see our cabal when we at last found them all on the quarterdeck. I was even more pleased to see that our newest associates, Ash, Nickel, Burroughs and Bones, had been properly attired and equipped under Liam’s tutelage. They were now shorn with kerchiefs on their heads; and they wore tunics, breeches, and earrings, and carried muskets and cutlasses. They looked like the buccaneers they had vowed to become, and not the misplaced planters and soldiers they had been.

“Did you loan them the necessary funds?” I asked Liam and Otter privately, as Gaston and I settled in to sit beside them.

“Nay, the boy, Nickel, ’ad money and ’e bought fer all,” Liam said.

“Well, that was kind of him,” I said.

Otter leaned close to whisper. “He paid Bones’ debt as well.”

I was surprised. “Did he? Have things changed between them, or does it merely appear to be philanthropy?”

Liam sighed. “They will na’ call each other matelot. They say they be partners.” He said the last word derisively.

I chuckled. “So be it.”

“Burroughs spent some o’ Nickel’s money on a whore,” Liam added with disgust.

“It is… the way of many,” I said.

Liam had now worked himself up to a good froth of anger and seemed ready to send it my way.

I held up my hand. “Do not blame me for my sister’s arrival here, or for Striker’s favoring of women. One was a matter of the Fates and the other the Gods.”