Read Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves Online
Authors: W. A. Hoffman
Raised By Wolves Volume four- Wolves (56 page)
It was soon the first week of July, and we had cleared the mountain range that ran along the northern side of Hispaniola and begun to sail southeast alongside a great, flat forested area oflavishgreenery. There were now signs ofSpanishsettlement:a tower here, and a swirl of smoke from some unseen fire there. We spent our days further from shore and curious eyes; only slipping in toward land with the dusk; and we slept aboard. We still had sufficient water, but we were far from adequately provisioned, and this new need to sneak about was not going to aid the situation. We beganto keep a fishingline inthe water day
We had renewed our vow to only think of Chris as a man; and he had dutifully tried to learn to act more like a man. With a great deal of ingenuity, we fashioned a wood cup and funnelofsorts that he could hang fromhis waist and tuck into his linens to give the appearance of a man’s bulge; and—given time and practice—deftly palm and use to direct his urine in the and practice—deftly palm and use to direct his urine in the appropriate arc. With obvious reluctance, but thankfully, pleasantly little complaint, he began to practice with this item. He also stopped dashing away as soon as we were ashore to do his other business. We learned his menstruationwould soonbe upon us as well. We reinforced his under things with oil cloth to prevent leakage, and prepared bandages to be used as rags.
The one thing Chris still fought us on was accepting the inevitability of being a man’s matelot. He used every success at learning some new art of manliness to make his case that the other would not be needed.
Pete agreed withhim.
On the other front, Ash was quite the besotted fool. I was sure I would have seen it all along if my matelot had not beenat death’s door inour first weeks ofthis voyage. Ashfound great difficulty in keeping his gaze away from the object of his desire; and, ominously, he stopped sleeping in the stern with his matelot, and speakingto him.
Cudro had become silent and sad. It hurt me to look upon him. He pretended joviality, but whenever he thought no one watched, he lapsed into the utter picture ofmelancholy.
Gaston and I took to curling chastely together every night withour onlyshared intimacya pair ofresigned sighs.
I wondered how the matter could be resolved, especially since our vessel could not provide the opportunity for private discourse without physicalintimacy. I was damned ifI was going to lie beside Cudro or Ashand whisper intheir ears.
We all seemed to spend our days peering toward shore, seeking some excuse to land and forage—or achieve a little seeking some excuse to land and forage—or achieve a little privacy.
“Is the whole eastern side of the island inhabited?” I asked onthe fourthdayas we eyed the second columnofsmoke we had seeninas manyhours.
Cudro sighed. “I don’t know, Will,” he admitted sheepishly.
I was not the only one who turned to regard him with
know; but I’ve never sailed around this side of Hispaniola. I’ve heard this side is curved out a little, unlike the western side where there is a giant baybetweentwo longpeninsulas. This side is just supposed to curve out and down. Then there’s a thirtyleague-or-so wide passage—with some islands, I think—in betweenthe south-easternmost tip and the island the Spanishcall RichPort.
“Then you get to the southern side:that I’ve sailed along: we all have. You sail past it from Barbados to reach Jamaica. There’s an uneven crescent ofshore fromthat southeastern point to the southernmost point. The thickest Spanish settlement is there. Beyond that southern point is the peninsula that Cow Island sits beneath.”
I had, of course, not really considered how we would attain Cow Island. Now I thought on what he said and what I remembered ofthe southern side ofHispaniola. I was alarmed at the result ofmymusing.
“That area past the southern point, is that where we tried to provision last year before we went to Maracaibo?” I asked. “Where Striker lost his arm? Where it took us three damnweeks to sailaround that damnsouthernpoint?”
I swore. “This will not take a month of sailing. They will have sailed against the Spanishbefore we canarrive.”
The Dutchman shook his head and chuckled. “Will, the winds willbe with us fromthe east. It won’t take three weeks to round that point.”
“Well that is good, but how the Devil are we to provision?” I asked. “We are already seeing Spaniards, and if they stretch all the way around the southeast of this island, and are thicker stillacross the south…”
Cudro’s look of worry told me I need not chide himinto realizingthe problem.
“We would have faced the same sailing north along the Florida coast,”he said sadly.
I looked to my matelot and Pete. “Have either of you sailed alongthis coast before?”
Gastonshook his head witha grimace.
Pete snorted. “Nay, I’veNot. ItDon’Matter. YaWorryTooMuch. We’llJustDoALittleRaidin’.”
“There are sixofus,”I countered.
“ThenWeNa’BeTakin’San’Dominga,”he drawled.
“You stupid bastard,” I spat with little vehemence despite myconcern.
He laughed. He was the onlyone.
That evening we had the fortune of spying a small inlet fed by a brackish stream. We hid the boat and prepared to slog inland to find drinkable water before the sunset.
Gaston whistled a low warning just as Pete, Cudro, and I started out. We hurried back to his side near the boat, and squatted in the brush and peered where he pointed. There was a sloop sailing south: cutting the water where we had a mere half hour before. She flew Spanish colors. She was too far from shore for us to see muchelse.
“We haven’t seena port northofhere,”Cudro rumbled.
“One to the south?”I asked.
He shrugged.
I sighed, kissed my matelot for luck, and began to slog up the stream—such as it was. The brush on the banks was too thick to cut through and go anywhere before we lost the light. Cudro joined me inwadinginthe murkywater, but Pete decided he did not wish to dirty his boots, or risk walking in the mud without them. Barefoot, he scampered onto the roots of one of the trees. The bigtangled things wove allaround one another and reached far into the water. Theyseemed to hold the mud and not the other way around. We watched him nimbly pick his way up the streamwellabove the water—holding the branches or trunks above his head to steadyhimself.
I considered the closest roots. “I suppose that appears a faster wayto travel.”
“Not for me, but…”Cudro finished withanunintelligible, disgruntled sound as he stepped into a sudden hole and sank to
deposit my muddy boots next to my amused matelot. Cudro did likewise, and we were soon traveling by tree branch as Pete had —far less adroitly, though: he occasionally dropped back to laughat us.
On one ofthese briefsessions ofabuse, I rolled my eyes and looked awayfromPete’s laughingface intime to see a login the water move—toward me—very fast. “What the De…?” I beganto ask.
He hit me betweenthe shoulder blades, propellingme off the roots and into the bracken of the bank. There was a sudden weight on my leg and I heard an ominous snap beside me. I felt no pain, but I was not sure if it was because I was injured or
dragon. Its teeth were embedded in the root I had fallen beside. Its attempts to thrash were stopped by this impromptu bit in its mouth. Its heavy, scaly body was across my left leg. Its clawed feet were scrabbling in the mud as it attempted to pullitselfaway —thankfully, I had no fleshbelow them.
Pete and Cudro were atop it, stabbing it with knives like fiends. Sorrowfully, I watched the light die in its beady black eyes. Now that I knew what it was, I was sorry it was dead. I had heard about the Caymanbeasts before I had evenset foot in the West Indies; and now the first one I saw was dead.
“Will, are youwell?”Cudro was roaringand shakingme. I was staring at the creature’s teeth. There were a great many of them, and the snout they resided in was very long and large.
“You saved my life,” I told Cudro. “Thank the Gods.” And thenI did reverentlythank the Gods.
Cudro sighed with great relief and wiped the lizard’s blood from his cheek. “You had me worried. I was trying to pushyoufarther away. Youwent downright under it.”He swore quietlyand reverently.
I tried to move and found my leg pinned by the creature’s weight. “I amstuck.”
Still panting fromthe frantic exertion of their attack, they beganthe apparentlyarduous process offreeingme.
“I heard of them getting this big, I’ve never seen one, though,” Cudro growled as they pushed while I squirmed from beneath it. “This is as big as the crocodiles of Egypt are said to get. Theysaytheyonlyget this bigwhenthere are pigs and cattle to feed on.”
We looked at one another withnew concern, and sat still to listen to the birds around us. If this one was fat from calves and pigs, that meant there were either tame ones in abundance on a plantation, or a great many because there were no men about. We could not know which it was without exploring in the light ofday.
Pete sighed a minute later and began to gaze at the brush with less concern and more longing. Then he looked at the slain beast. “YaCanEat’Em, Right?”
Cudro nodded. “The hide’s usefultoo.”
Pete looked at what little we could see of the darkening sky. “YaGotTimeFerThat?”
“Nay,” Cudro said and shrugged. “Couldn’t cure it anyway. I canbutcher the meat, though.”
“I’llGetWater,” Pete said and looked to me. “YaBeWell?”
“Do I appear unwell?”I asked.
Pete grinned. “Na’FurAManWhoNearlyDoneGot’IsHeadEat’n.
YaStayAn’HelpCudro. YaComeWithMe.”
I blinked with surprise and peered around Cudro’s bulk to see who Pete was speaking to. Chris stood a score of feet behind us on the stream. He was regarding the creature with wide eyes, and the water beneath the roots he perched on with alarm.
“Youshould have stayed withthe boat,”I remarked.
He frowned with determination. “Nay, I have had enough ofAsh.” Then guilt washed over his features and he cast a sorrowful look at Cudro before carefully clambering over the creature’s body.
“It’s not your fault,” Cudro said kindly and handed him our water skins.
Chris met his gaze and nodded. “I amstillsorry.”
“Thank you,”Cudro said.
Chris carefullybeganto follow Pete.
Cudro stood and looked back the way he had come. “Well, my stupid boy didn’t follow,” he said with sad amusement.
“I am sorry
she
is here,” I said as I stood. “For your
mesmerized once more by the creature. It was a dozen feet long, and as thick around as my body. Its snout was longer than my forearm. I poked at its bark-like skin and examined the eyes atop its head. It did truly appear to be a log. It was no wonder I had not seen it before it moved. And it had been a surprisingly fast log. It had moved witha cat’s speed.
“Youare one luckybastard,”Cudro said reverently. “Nay, aye, I suppose.” I looked to him. “I am lucky in that I have been blessed by a quick and strong friend. Thank you. I owe youmylife, truly.”
He smiled with warmth and no pride, and nodded. “You
worked. “It’s for the best.”
“Why? Youtwo appeared veryhappy.”
He awarded me a bemused smile. “We made a good
I could well remember their happiness when they first told me of their pairing. It had been upon the return from the Cuban smuggling expedition. I also recalled their initial courtship during our voyage home from Porto Bello many months before that. I shook my head. “I am not so besotted with my life that I am prone to imagine things that do not exist. You two were in love once.”
“Oui, but it was a passing thing, it always is,” Cudro sighed. “I…” He shook his head and smiled. “If our Chris really was a youth, I would cry myselfto sleep every night for the want of him. I favor young men when they’re as lanky as colts and sleek as cats, with a brash new cock emerging fromits nest; but I’ve never been intrigued by weak, foppish, or effeminate men. So invariably, I find a young lover, teach him what I know, and then he grows such that he no longer wants to be a boy—mine or anyone’s. That conversation the other day with our new
boy
echoed many things I knew, and gave me a great deal to think
“Oui, I do. I recall you were lamenting the paradox of needing a man who could be your equal as a matelot, and yearning for a pretty catamite who could never be seen as your equal. Ashwas the compromise.”
I had seen both; though I had not witnessed the latter in its glory. They were some of Ash’s better assets. I nodded my assent and helped pushthe beast onto its other side.
“He’s been a good matelot, though,” Cudro said soberly when he was able to start cutting again. “Unless we’re around women. Not Madame Striker or your wives, non; but when we went to the Carolinas to trade, he was very careful to avoid me went to the Carolinas to trade, he was very careful to avoid me when flirting with tavern wenches. When I would ask ifhe would rather settle there, he would profess he still wished to rove and be a sailor if not a buccaneer. That’s why we wished to come withyou. He claimed he was quite content withwhat we had and that he would remain so until he wished to settle down.” He shrugged again. “And I was content withthat.”
I understood, though it still saddened me. And I had seen that of which he spoke. I had not understood it for what it was, but I had seen it. Ash had ever been careful to not be affectionate with his partner when women were about. He behaved somewhat differentlywhentheywere onlyaround men.