Pirates Return IC

Remove all ads!

The market-street of Port Royal was full of diversions: food, drink, gambling, clothing, weapons, fighting, beggars, whores for all tastes, even a church or two. Matty marked a few places for visiting later as she passed but few noticed her; to all appearances she was just another dirty urchin in the crowd. It was a convenient disguise in a world where a solitary female usually had only one possible fate.

The shop was just ahead. It could have been the same as the one in Freetown, simply picked up and moved to a different island. Shelves of dusty bins, heaps of boxes and bales, barrels half-full of items once treasured but now barely remembered. Amid the clutter Matty spied the fiddle-case she was looking for, tucked between a wobbly pile of hatboxes and a crate full of old tools. At least it was still here.

As usual, the shopkeeper fixed Matty with a sharp frown as soon as she entered; she ignored the old man. A crowd of pirates burst in a few moments later. Their babbling French was unintelligible but the gold they flashed was easily understood. The shopkeeper was soon busy taking down all those hatboxes and showing the pirates feathers and silk ribbon trimmings.

On an impulse, Matty grabbed the case and darted for the door. She heard yelling and even some barking behind her as she dodged through the crowds in the streets, jumping over drunks and ducking around signposts. The pounding in her ears could have been her pulse or it could have been pursuit; she didn't care, she just kept running.

Her chest heaving, Matty ducked into an alley and dived behind a pile of crates. She just had to catch her breath for a second, and assess the pursuit. If only she managed to lose them...

 

Daniel looked at his mother. "Well Mom, the real pirate life sure is different from what I imagined listening to all your stories. I guess all I really heard were the heroic parts. But I'm glad that I'm here, with you. I'll be able to learn much more about surgery working with you here than I would staying at home." He heard the captain's shout. "Is it alright with you if I go ashore?" He hardly waited to see her nod her head, and was out the door.

He walked around the port, comparing it with his home. It wasn't that much different. The same smells, the same drunk sailors lying in the alleys, and the same shouts of "Stop thief!"

He looked over to the sound of the commotion and saw Matty high-tailing it into an alley. He ran after her. He saw her jump behind some crates, then continued down the alley to where it ended in a high wall.

Several men pounded into the alley behind him. He started to try to climb over the wall.

"Help me up!" he called to the men. "The thief just went over this wall! If you help me get over, I can catch him, I'm sure!"

Two men came and helped him pull himself up to the top of the wall. He got a leg over and looked into a courtyard, probably from a cooper. "There he goes!" Daniel yelled. "He's going over into Barrel Street, I'll go after him this way, the rest of you head him off the other way." He lept down into the courtyard.

 

Alistair took some time to check that he had everything on him - he wouldn't want to leave anything behind, just in case he had to leave suddenly.

A cigar in mouth, he wandered off the ship and into the port. Port Royal. He's been here a few times, and knew the place well enough to instantly walk towards the local gunsmithy, although not to his own violation.
"Ey there, Pete." he mumbled as he pushed open the dusty door and strolled to the counter, laying his guns down. "The usuals, if you will."
"Fine, fine." the old man grumbled and took Alistair's firearms, huddling off to the back room with them. Smiling, Alistair looked around the shop and, once deciding there are no new items of interest, walked out of the port merrily towards his next stop, the tobacco shop.

 

As Three Swords walked down the gangplank he spotted a black carriage waiting at the end of the dock. It's windows were curtained with a thin white material so he could not see who was within but two footmen stood outside dressed in very clean black finery and wearing grey horsehair wigs.

It was an interesting sight for the docks and it lingered in his mind. Abbot continued to walk, approaching the carriage. One of the footmen came toward him and out of habit, Three Swords placed a hand to one of the pistols at his belt.

"Can I help you?" Three Swords asked the man. The footman placed a hand inside his jacket pocket and Three Swords drew his pistol but instead of a weapon the footman produced an envelope and handed it to Three Swords then gave a deep bow.

Three Swords waited for the man to step away and then looked at the envelope. In a fine, flowing script it read "Captain John Abbot of The Pale Horse" he glanced at the footman who now stood by the carriage once more before breaking the seal of the envelope. Inside he found a card. He lifted it to his eyes, smelling a perfume that had been sprayed over it.

"His Lord Governor, the honourable James Blackwell, master of Port Royal and commander of His Majesty's Royal Navy of Jamaica invite the honourable Captain John Abbot of The Pale Horse of Perth to attend a dinner at the time of eight o'clock this evening."

Abbot looked again at the Footman's expressionless face as he pushed the invitation into his pocket.

"What's this all about?" Three Swords asked the Footman.

"It is an invitation to a dinner, sir." The Footman replied.

"I know that - but why am I invited?" He paused "And I only just arrived in port - how did your master know I was here?"

The footman hid a smile, "I know not, sir. You have time to change into your best before you attend, sir."

"I'm wearing my best." Abbot replied,

Now the footman did smile, "I'm sure we'll make do, sir." With that, the footman stepped into the carriage and the driver cracked a whip to urge the horses away. Abbot stepped back, returning to his ship.

"Master Santiago!" He bellowed, "Alexa, Zheng, Matty, Daniel! Come here!" He waited for Ricardo, Alexa and Zheng to find him "Where are the others?" he asked Santiago.

"Ashore, sir." the spaniard replied. Three Swords sighed,

"Fine, Zheng, I need you to go ashore and buy a set of footmen's attire for you Matty and Daniel, and find a dress for Alexa. And keep an eye out for Matty and Daniel, make sure they come back here." He waited for Zheng to run down the gangplank before he turned to the other two "It seems we have been invited to a ball at the 'Lord Governor's' house tonight and we're going to attend. Santiago, I need you to charm his wife, and I need you, Alexa, to charm the governor. With any luck we can get one of them to promise us the use of their navy... and more importantly, some information. Return here at seven o'clock. I'll find us a carriage in the meantime."

 

Good old Daniel, Matty thought. Even though his diversion seemed to be successful, she waited an extra minute or two to be sure the pursuit was gone. But what was she going to do with the hardly-inconspicuous fiddle? She looked around the alley briefly but discarded the notion even as she realized there were no possible hiding places in a pirate city like Port Royal. Having gone through such trouble to retrieve the thing, there was no way she'd let it out of her sight.

Of course there wasn't an old sack amongst the litter in the alley; that would have been just too convenient. She'd have to make her way back to the Pale Horse and stash it there.

She'd almost reached the docks, looking far more casual than she felt, when one of the stray dogs started sniffing at her heels. Not that mutt from the pawnshop! she groaned, trying to kick it away. But that only made it bark, and the barking caught the ear of a fat man in a dirty uniform that wasn't the navy. He grabbed Matty's arm before she realized he was with the dog.

Even as he dragged her down to the rough jail, his breath stinking of garlic as he shouted his way through the crowd, Matty clutched the fiddle case with all her might and refused to let it be pulled from her arms.

 

Daniel had quickly run out of the cobbler's courtyard and down another lane, leaving the pursuing men on their wild goose chase. He then went to a square overlooking the docks. He watched the people go by for a while, then saw something that made his heart sink. Matty getting pulled along by a big fat man and his dog. He followed her down to the jail, then ran back to the ship.

The captain wasn't on board, but the quartermaster was. Daniel ran up to him and said, "Mr. Santiago, sir. I've dreadful news to report. Matty stole a fiddle from a store, I helped him get away, but he was caught trying to make it to the Pale Horse. A fat man has taken him to the town jail."

Daniel bent over and took several heavy breaths before he started to breathe normally again.

 

Alexa stepped out of the surgery, where she had been cleaning off the blood and other fluids that had dried on her skin and in her hair after torturing the captive and looking after the members of the crew. Daniel's shouting caught her attention.

"What's this, lad? Matty's gotten himself into trouble?"

 

"Yes, Mom. He stole a fiddle. He was hiding in an alley, about to get found, and I led his chasers off astray, but as he was coming back to the ship, someone discovered him and hauled him off to the jail. I couldn't figure out how to get him out of the fat man's hands, and didn't want the both of us to end up in jail, with nobody knowing where we were. But I'm ready to do whatever it takes to get him out." Daniel looked anxiously at his mother and the quartermaster, hoping that they would know what to do.

 

Ricardo swore. ”Sounds like it, Señora.”

The added complication of the boy getting caught of thievery made him wary; it would not be good if the Governor would know of this that eve… and knowing Port Royal, Blackwell would.

“Someone needs to get the boy out before they discover he’s from the pale Horse,” he stated, narrowing his eyes. He went over the crew, or rather, those who remained of the crew, considering a suitable man for the job.

There really wasn’t much choice.

Ricardo turned on his heel, spotting the Frenchman near the railing. “Jacques,” he called out. “Get here.”

When the navigator approached, Ricardo elaborated. “I have a task for you. The piper boy was caught and taken to the jail; I want you to go get him out.”

Jacques looked about to protest, and Ricardo narrowed his eyes. “If you have to bribe them, I will compensate you when you get back with the boy. Do try to be discreet:”

 

Down on the docks an old man pushed a cart filled with books. "Pamphlets! Books! Tomes of all sorts! Open a book and open your mind!" he called out. Daniel wasn't going to be able to do anything to set Matty free right now, and he hadn't read anything new or interesting since finishing all the books he could borrow in Freetown last year.

"Mom, Mister Santiago, can I go look at his wares?" he asked the two adults next to him. His mother gave him a nod, and the quartermaster made an elaborate, somewhat mocking gesture and said, "But of course, Master Daniel."

Daniel ignored the sarcasm and walked down the gangplank to book seller. "Excuse me sir, may I look at your books, please?" Daniel asked the man.

"Of course, sonny. Can you read?" the man asked.

"Yes, my mother taught me. She's a surgeon." repied Daniel. "I'm going to be a surgeon too."

"Is that so? Then I have a book you might be interested in." He pulled out a heavy, leather-bound volume from the bottom of his cart. "Here it is, Exercitatio Anatomica de Motu Cordis et Sanguinis in Animalibus by William Harvey. A ship's doctor got in debt up to his neck with the cards, and needed some ready cash more than he needed this book."

Daniel opened the book. It was amazing. The whole human body was layed out for examination. "I've got to have this," he said. "How much is it?"

"Well, he sold me this other book here too, A Treatise on Common and Exotic Ailments, their Causes, Cures and Prevention by James Lind. I'll give you the both of them for four silvers." The old man said.

Daniel took out the rest of the money his mom had left him. "I only have two silvers and nine coppers. Will you take that? It's all I've got."

"Nobody's ever shown an interest in those books anyway. It's a deal. Enjoy them." The old man handed Daniel the books.

Daniel walked back up the gangway with the books. He sat down on a barrel and started reading. He soon got an idea, and then a few more.

 

For all his bluster about beatings, when they reached the jail the fat man was far more interested in returning to his interrupted meal than in meting out any punishment. Matty had the suspicion that just about anything that required the jailor to move interrupted a meal.

"Someone's been sent for the shopkeep, an' the magistrate," he grumbled around a mouthful of bread. "Let them decide wha' should happen to ye." With that, he shoved Matty into a small cell that had a thin covering of dirty straw on the floor. It was damp and reeking of urine in one corner, which she avoided. There were two similar cells in the dingy building, one empty and the other holding two drunks snoring in their own vomit.

Matty huddled under the tiny, barred window, trying to get whatever breath of clean air she could. At least the jailor had stopped trying to relieve her of the fiddlecase - and hadn't searched her well enough to find the knife in her boot, or its twin under her shirt.

 

Jacques gave the quartermaster a curt nod and disembarked. Winding his way along the streets of the port town towards the prison, Jacques checked how much coin he had on him - enough to bribe the guards, maybe, but there might be ways of doing this without spending his own silver and having to barter with Santiago to get some of it back. He looked along the row of traders in the street he was following: a blacksmith, chandler, herbalist, and a cooper... Jacques weighed his money-pouch again thoughtfully. Time to go shopping.

* * *

Walking back up the steep hill towards the town's tiny gaol, Jacques checked his supplies were well hidden in his jacket pockets. He didn't walk round to the entrance on reaching the top of the slope, instead ducking into a short alleyway behind the building containing only an old wooden outhouse and a couple of disgruntled rats. Edging his fingers carefully into the cracked mortar-work between the bricks of the gaol, he lifted himself slowly up to a small barred window and peered inside. The prison was one large, sparsely furnished room, and Jacques could just make out the edge of an iron-wrought cell from his field of vision. There was one guard sitting at a table shovelling food into his face, and another standing by the far wall looking towards the cells where Matty must have been held. Two guards...

Jacques lowered himself down quietly from the window, and crept deeper into the alley. Leaning against the wall behind the outhouse, he reflected that the smell in the alley wasn't the worst he'd had to put up with in the last month. Jacques sighed, pulled out a knife and began to clean his nails. The Spaniard had never mentioned what it was Matty had been caught for. He'd have to remember to ask. Jacques hadn't had an opportunity to corner Matty again, but still held his suspicions about the young musician...

As Jacques waited there musing, he heard a gruff voice mumble a few words faintly through the high prison window, followed by the sound of a door-latch clicking shut. Shortly afterwards a set of footsteps broke off from the rest in the street and headed down the alley towards the outhouse. Checking that he was well hidden behind the tall wooden shack, Jacques held his breath as the outhouse door swung open and shut, the whole structure teetering slightly. After counting slowly to five, Jacques crept silently around to the left of the outhouse, holding a knife tight in his right hand. Praying under his breath that the wood didn't snap, and that it actually was the prison guard shut in there, he leant forward around the shack, and drove the knife blade horizontally into the gap between the door and the wall, locking the door shut.

Instantly there came the crash of the man throwing his full weight against the door, trying to break it open - Jacques darted to the back of the outhouse, waiting for the rocking shack to steady momentarily... and leapt at it shoulder-first just as it tilted forward once more. Jacques's blow timed with the guard's second strike on the door were enough to throw the outhouse onto the ground, with the door face-down. Jacques' sense of accomplishment was cut short when he saw the bottom of the shack wide open with enough room to climb out past the bench.

Before the guard could pull himself together after the fall, Jacques quickly rethought his plan - bracing his feet firmly against the stone block the outhouse had toppled from, he pushed the building out of the short alleyway and into the street, where the rickety wooden frame slid nicely along the smooth cobblestones, slowly picking up speed down the hill.

As soon as the outhouse had started to move, Jacques had darted into a trader's building opposite the prison, trusting everyone's eyes to be on the locomotive loo rather than on him. The commotion seemed to have finally drawn the fat guard away from his meal - he wandered out of the gaol, looking around and cursing at "Marl", who was presumably the second guard. Jacques walked nonchalantly out of the shop, smiling faintly towards the foot of the hill. The guard eventually read the gazes of the rest of the street, and looked off down the hill. The instant his back was turned, Jacques slipped past him across the street and into the prison.

Looking first to the cells, Jacques spotted Matty staring at him, eyes wide with disbelief. Jacques put his finger to his lips, and turned to the half-eaten meal still on the table, reeking of garlic even above the other smells in the miserable hovel. Pulling a small folded paper packet out of his top pocket, Jacques emptied the contents into the bowl, the powdered leaves going unnoticed in the grey mush.

A loud curse at Marl was all the warning Jacques had to dive into the empty cell and curl up in the corner before the guard walked back in the door. Apparently the thought of the long walk back uphill if he went to check out the disturbance had hit him sooner than Jacques had expected. He fortunately didn't seem to notice the extra occupant in the cells - judging by the noises coming from the table his concentration seemed only to be on his food.

Not daring to move, Jacques lay curled up staring at the corner. It suddenly struck him that the guard probably wouldn't be best pleased when those herbs took effect and he found out what happened to his outhouse.

 

Matty supressed a smile when she saw Jacques dive into the empty cell. He made a good snoring drunk. She hoped there was more to his plan for her rescue than acting.

I guess Daniel got back to the ship. Once I do, I guess I won't be leaving it again until our next port - not unless I want to learn to play this fiddle one-handed. I doubt I can ever show my face in Port Royal again, at least not for several years.

[ August 25, 2005, 21:15: Message edited by: Rallymama ]

 

Ricardo’s expression was grim as he watched Jacques go. The piper boy might have caused far more trouble than he was worth; the Captain was fond of him, yes, but if the boy was foolish enough to try to rob something in broad daylight… the Spaniard shook his head. Foolish boy.

When Jacques returned, the boy would have to hide, he knew. That meant that the Chinaman would be bringing a footman’s uniform for naught, and that might raise a few suspicions if Blackwell was having them watched. He doubted that there was another member of the crew the outfit would fit... or who could pass in polite company.

It had been a while since Ricardo himself had been in polite company; to be honest, he had not attended a formal occasion since he had returned from Spain three years ago. He had done his best to avoid the upper echelons of the colonial society for a very good reason… after nearly a decade of the Spanish court, being back in the Caribbean was nothing but a great relief to him.

His eyes passed briefly over the Navy ship formerly known as the Devastation; he had seen the ship before, of course, but every single time it brought forth an intense surge of emotion he did not care to examine thoroughly. His hands tightened on the railing, his knuckles whitening as he fought the memories back; there was nothing that could be done about things that had come to pass.

When he judged his emotions as sufficiently settled, he let go of the railing and turned around. He knew he would have much to do if he wanted to charm the Governor’s wife properly… he had no doubt he could accomplish it with much less effort, but he did not take such matters lightly.

He wondered if his disinclination to attend formal gatherings as of late would be to his detriment; the whims of the high society were often quick, even if out here the fashions always lagged behind.

His eyes fell on Daniel, who was now engrossed in the book. The boy seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, and Señora Alexa had not let him run wild. It almost surprised him; not many of those who grew up in the Caribbean showed any sophistication at all…

Ricardo frowned. He had not considered the implications of the Captain’s order for Señora Alexa to charm the governor before… the idea made his blood boil, but he ignored it with steely determination; the look on her face when the Captain had spoken assured Ricardo of the fact that she would not enjoy acting coquettish.

His mind dwelling on the redhead he headed to the surgery: He tried to think of a way to ask her that would not invite another slap; he did not know if he could hold himself back if she did strike him again.

He entered the surgery and stopped on his tracks, his jaw dropping. The surgeon was standing next to a washbasin, fresh bandages closer at hand, her back towards the door and her shirt nowhere to be seen.

Ricardo’s eyes drank in the sight of her soft skin, marred by far fewer scars that one might have expected; the blood on her side looked like a pale imitation compared to the hair that spilled down to her snowy shoulders..

He saw her tense and cursed silently. She’d noticed him. She turned her head., her eyes flashing when she saw him, and reached for a shirt.

Ricardo spun around, turning his back towards her. “Pardon me, Señora he spoke quickly, ”I did not anticipate finding you in a state of dishabille.

 

Alexa frowned as she pulled on a fresh shirt. She had hoped for some more time alone. Noticing the old Devestation in port had brought up memories of her time on the Maurader and she wasn't sure if she could handle being so near that ship.

Her shirt on, she turned to face the Spaniard, eyes flashing with anger. "Ricardo, what the Devil do you want? Shouldn't you be out there looking for Matty? Or getting things organized for this ball we're supposed to be attending?"

 

“I sent Jacques to get Matty, Señora, and I trust he can accomplish it without having a nursemaid along.” Ricardo crossed his arms in front of his chest, his back still turned. He did not trust himself to face her just yet. Not before he managed to rein in his instinctual reaction to seeing her bare skin. ”I came to talk to you of matters concerning tonight.”

Taking a deep breath, he turned to look at her; she now wore a shirt, but he could easily imagine what was beneath the loose fabric. “Tell me, Señora have you ever attended a formal ball?”

 

Eyes blazing, Alexa strode forward, stopping inches away from him. "You dare imply that I am uncultured, Señor Duque?" Her voice came out as a hiss. "I who have spent the last fifteen years in Freetown toadying up to the local 'nobility' and their wives?"

She stepped away, looking furious. "I have attended a formal ball, and I have no need for any lecture you may have been thinking of giving on proper etiquette and conduct there."

 

After a brief eternity of lying on the filthy floor of the cell, Jacques finally heard the relentless pace of the guard's eating frenzy slow. A fork clattered into the empty bowl, and the chair legs scraped along the bare stone floor. Jacques smiled into the corner.

"Oi! What the 'ell's that cell door doin' open?" Jacques heard the guard begin to walk over, but stayed curled up where he was. Any second now... "You there! Wake up, ye wretch! This en't a soddin' inn!" Jacques' smile slipped. The fool better not have eaten enough that it was diluting the damned poison...

"Hang on... din't I see you out in the street?" Jacques heard the scrape of a wood on stone as the guard picked up something leaning against the wall. Jacques quietly slipped his free hand into his jacket and wrapped it around the hilt of a knife. "Out. Ye heard me! Ou.. oh..." The guard let out a low moan and let whatever he was holding clatter to the ground as he ran from the prison.

Jacques leapt up and ran to the Matty's cell door, pulling out a set of lockpicks he'd picked up from the blacksmith. "You wouldn't know how to use these any better than me, would you?"

 

"Mebbe a little." Matty's fingers, accustomed to the delicate vibrations of strings and the odd angles required by most horns, found two of the cylinders almost immediately. The last would be trickier. An agonized shout reached their ears from the alley.

"Oi! Where's the soddin' toilet?"

Matty worked quicker, not wanting to waste the oportunity created by the guard's indisposition. Finally the lock clicked open. She grabbed the fiddlecase and followed Jacques at a dead run. Good thing Da had taught her to play portable instruments, instead of the harpsichord he'd always reminisced about so dreamily.

The guard had decided that immodesty was preferable to a load of crap in his drawers and was squatting astride the hole revealed by the departure of the outhouse. All he could do was shout a warning at the sight of their fleeing backs.

 

Jacques led the way back downhill towards the docks, not slowing until the hill had levelled off and they'd passed the wreckage of the outhouse where a low stone wall at the foot of the hill had interrupted its bid for freedom. There was no sign of the guard, however.

Jacques slowed to a walk and caught his breath before speaking. "That was good work with that lock, Matty - nicely done. Am I right in thinking that that case you're hugging like a long lost child is part of the reason you were locked up in there?"