Jaded Tides (The Razor's Adventures Pirate Tales) Page 6

  Seven

  CAPTAIN BERGMAN

  At first light on the fourth day, I met a cat. This wasn’t just any cat, but a beast of an animal who woke me with its incessant caterwauling before, at last, it stopped when I tossed it a piece of stale bread from my half-eaten plate from the night before. “That should stop your squawking,” I said as I leaned down to pat it between the ears. I’d opened the door to the sick berth to shoo the poor thing away before sitting down to write in my journal, when I heard footsteps approaching.

  “Don’t feed her,” a husky voice said from the doorway.

  “What?” I asked, shooing her off.

  “She’ll earn her keep like the rest of us. She gets water, and if she’s lucky, goat’s milk, and that’s only if she keeps the rats under control.” The man was unfamiliar to me but appeared to have seen his fair share of cats and rats, as well as ships. He wore a knitted cap and a billowy shirt rolled to his elbows that was either mottled with a shade of gray or just filthy. His breeches were loosely fitted, and his bare feet were so black that for a moment I thought his shoes had holes where his toes peeked out.

  “May I help ye, mate?” I asked, crossing my arms and squaring my shoulders.

  “Not yet, but by the time we’re in the deep water, I’ll be needin’ somethin’ for me belly. Let’s just keep that between us, aye?” he whispered as he leaned towards me and winked.

  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of…what did ye say yer name was?” I asked as I walked to my desk to make a note of the man’s ailment, so that I could check the medical book and prepare what he needed to settle his stomach. As I lifted the quill, I was overjoyed to see that Fin was right and my hands were finally becoming accustomed to my work. Despite the soreness that lingered in my fingers, the swelling was gone.

  “I ain’t ashamed a’ nothin’, Doc. Name’s not important—I’m a gunner, and I cain’t be spillin’ me guts ‘ery time she takes a hard tilt, got it?” The pasty skin of his face jiggled loosely when he spoke, and his jowls were covered in unkempt whiskers. Oddly, the urge to sit him in a chair and shave them off came over me, and a light chuckle skipped from my lips as I turned quickly back to my medical log.

  “That’s fine,” I said without looking back while waving him off. “Come back when yer feelin’ green around them gills, and I’ll have somethin’ for ye.” When I turned back a moment later, the man was gone, and I quickly wrote my first entry into my own medical journal:

  Gunner – seasickness.

  Once I’d prepared his remedy of ground ginger and mint leaves, more than enough for at least ten men, I rushed after the crewmen and up the gangway into the morning sun. The fresh air I’d been deprived of for nearly twelve hours revived my spirit, and I drank it in like the juice of a freshly picked orange. Just for fun, or perhaps to prove I hadn’t gotten lazy, I sprinted across the deck and pounced on the ratlines. The view when I reached the highest point on the main mast took my breath away. I hooked my right arm and the heels of my boots through the web and lay back against the bed of lines, allowing that boiling pot of white light in the sky to kiss my pale cheeks.

  “Razor!” a familiar voice shouted up at me. I recognized it immediately as Master Green. “Come down here now.”

  With a heavy groan and without nearly enough sun, I clambered back down and leapt to the deck to greet Master Green. “Is there a problem, sir?”

  “I believe you have been charged with the sick berth, and you are out here behaving like a monkey in the trees.” Master Green leaned his big shoulders back and crossed his arms at his chest. There was something unnerving in those pale green eyes as they shined out from his dark, cocoa skin. So far, I’d seen a completely different side of him. He seemed angry, or resentful, about something. I wondered if Cass could see him this way, would she still think she loved the man. I knew I was indebted to him and had truly promised myself I’d not annoy him, but he was starting to get under my skin. I believed he was deliberately trying to piss me off in order to prove I had no right on the ship.

  “You called me down from that glorious view just to scold me? Oh, please, Master Green, you can do much better than that,” I said turning to walk away.

  “Razor, had you been more observant, you would have noticed we are in pursuit of a ship, and this is no time to be racing yourself up the lines for your own entertainment.” Master Green tapped the spyglass in his belt and then swung out his right arm across the port gunnel. “Will you be needing this, or can you see her with your naked eye?” he asked with a crooked smile.

  Before I realized what I’d done, I snatched the spyglass from his belt and pulled it to my eye, “Are you toying with me? We’ve been out here less than a week and…”

  “And we do not know who, or what, she is yet, but we will know within a few hours.”

  “A few hours? I’ll die of curiosity until then!” I barked, handing him back his spyglass.

  “Then we shall provide you with a proper burial. Now, in case she is the ship you and the Captain believe her to be, I suggest you prepare the berth for injuries. I am not suggesting there will be a fight, I am only advising you to be prepared.”

  “I hope the stupid wench does want a fight. The only problem is, if there are any young women aboard, I’d not wish for them to suffer due to my hunger for revenge.” I stopped and found myself in thought for a moment. “You’re right, of course, Master Green. I’ll be in the sick berth, at my post, making the preparations as you advised.” I nodded to him and turned to leave when he called out to me.

  “Razor, do not worry yourself. According to the log, unless the channels have changed or that ship is not a merchant, we are fairly certain she is, in fact, the ship we seek.”

  “Fairly isn’t good enough for me. Until I can look through that glass and see the name Virginia Belle carved in her bow, I’ll not allow myself the pleasure of satisfaction.”

  “Have it your own way, but keep in mind you have two jobs to do, neither of which include standing here on deck chatting with me.” Green turned and walked away with a purpose in his stride. His worn gray shirt puffed about him as he went.

  “Humph,” I muttered and then strode down the gangway back to the dungeon they called the galley.

  “’Bout damn time!” Hawk shouted, slamming a slab of salted pork on his chopping block. “Yer late, Razor. Get yer scrawny arse over there and skin them potatoes before I skin ye!”

  There was no point in arguing. After at least seventy pounds or so since the night before, I’d at last perfected my chore, and my hands were becoming more accustomed to it as well. By the time the crew began pouring in for breakfast, I’d already filled a half barrel and covered them in fresh water. By the time they’d all been served, and I’d gobbled down my own share and even tucked away several pieces of ham for the cat, that barrel was full and ready for Hawk to start his stew.

  Finally, having seen the damn thing two hours prior, the cry came that I’d been drooling in wait for.

  “Sail! Eight miles north, and she’s headed this way!”

  My heartbeat sped up so fast that I couldn’t decipher whether or not we’d hit a swell and taken a hard tilt to the portside, as the blood rushed from my head to my stomach. I was weak at the knees and held tight to that greasy chopping block, digging in with my fingernails to keep from sliding off.

  “What’s a’ matter, laddie?” Hawk laughed. “Don’t piss yerself! Here,” he said as he shoved a plate of food at me and it slid all to one side against my chest. “Snag a pitcher a’ water and carry this to the Cap’n. I suspect he’ll be wantin’ a meal afore we start the hunt.” He grinned down at me with a contradictory look in his eyes, as if his mouth and his thoughts were at odds. I suspected I’d never truly seen an evil grin in my short life, until I saw his scruffy mug a mere few inches from my own.

  “The Cap’n?” I snapped up at him.

  “Did I stammer, lad? Shake a leg afore it’s cold!” He turned me at the shoulders and shoved me off
. I held tightly to the plate and snatched a pitcher of water as I caught my balance and looked gravely back at him.

  “I don’t piss me breeches, Hawk, but if ye shove me off like that again, I’ll piss in yer shitty stew!”

  The last thing I heard was Hawk burst into laughter and shout, “That’s more like it, ye scurvy little shit!” I picked up my pace and raced up the gangway to the quarterdeck and jostled the water and plate into one hand to rap on Rasmus’s cabin door.

  “Enter,” he called out, and I struggled to open the door without dumping his food all over myself. The latch was tight and felt as if it was caught on something. After almost a minute of complete frustration, the clouds of smoke filling my cluttered and anxious brain cleared when an actual intelligent thought appeared. Sit the shit down and open the door.

  I huffed and did just that and was amazed at just how easily the latch popped under my grasp, when the door pulled open as I pushed, and I stumbled forward.

  “Razor? What the devil are ye doing?” Rasmus asked, catching me by the wrist before I fell. I pulled free and knelt down to retrieve his meal and water and then pushed them at him. I’m not sure if I drew a breath, and I kept my eyes low.

  “Your food, Captain.”

  “Well, I can see that. Thank ye, lad,” he said. I tried to imagine his expression based on the tone of his voice and his slight chuckle, but I knew if I met those blue eyes, and if they were crinkled in the corners with a smile, I’d turn to jelly.

  “Will that be all, Captain?” I asked, breathing at last and clutching my hands together at my back.

  “Aye, lad, that’s all for now.”

  This time, I could feel his expression by way of his somber tone. He was disappointed or maybe even sad. Just the thought of looking up and knowing for certain he was unhappy twisted my insides until I thought they’d fall out. I couldn’t bear it; something was holding them in, and I looked up.

  “Very good, sir. I’ll just get back to work now,” I blurted out as I turned away.

  “Razor, would ye step inside with me for just a minute?”

  A knot grew in my throat and choked me, until I coughed into my fist to clear it before I answered, “Of course, Captain Bergman.”

  With that heavy plate of food balanced on his huge palm and the pitcher of water hooked on his pinky, he pushed the door open with his free right hand far enough for me to enter ahead of him. Once inside, he closed the door and walked to his desk. I watched him move through the cabin, and my mind was washed over in shades of red, gold, and blue. All of the glorious images of our first time carried me away, until I unknowingly stood there like an idiot with a wide smile across my face.

  “Razor? Did ye hear a word I just said?” he asked, but his voice echoed as if we were underwater.

  I snapped to attention and replied, “No…I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t.”

  “I asked ye if ye heard the call and saw that ship out there. Green and I are counting on that log being accurate. We believe she’s the Virginia Belle.”

  “Yes, sir. Master Green showed her to me this morning. I suspect she was at least ten miles out then. Do we know her position now?”

  “Yes,” he said as he pressed a piece of cured ham into a slice of bread and took a hearty mouthful.

  “Not to presume anything, but we’re going after her, right?” I asked.

  After filling his cup with water and washing down his food, he nodded and rested his elbows on his desk. “I called you in here to remind you that your duties are to take care of the sick and injured and help Hawk. I don’t want ye to be getting any ideas about fighting. Green and I have this all planned out already with the help of Robertson. We both know who could be on that ship, so the last thing we want is a fight.”

  “Understood, Captain,” I said, still standing at attention. I’d somehow managed to maintain my façade and not liquefy, or even slip off into my memories a second time, imagining lustful, clandestine daydreams about Rasmus.

  “Ivory, we’re alone. Relax and speak to me as yourself, and not as Ivan. It’s beginning to unnerve me a bit.” Rasmus squirmed in his seat and rubbed his brow, before smoothing a few loose hairs away from his face as he looked up at me.

  By allowing Ivan possession of my whole self, he protected me from my own needs and desires. Ivan Razor was not in love with Captain Rasmus Bergman. He was only a sailor with sore hands and a medical kit. In the short amount of time I’d been Ivan, I found him easier to be than myself—especially now. Being Ivan was just another shield to add to my armor, and wearing his mask was a comforting feeling. I knew if I let my disguise fall away, Ivan’s sense of duty and loyalty to his crew would keep it from spilling out.

  “No disrespect, sir, but perhaps it’s better if I remain Ivan at all times, as we discussed.”

  “Tell me again why I agreed to this?” he groaned under his breath.

  “Excuse me? You didn’t agree to this. I insisted upon it. Ivan or not, we’ve a mission, and we agreed to work together to accomplish it. How we are able to work together is obviously a whole other matter…for you.”

  “Ivory, will ye please sit down and just talk to me?” he pleaded.

  “Captain Bergman, I have my orders. And until we make land somewhere, I am Ivan Razor, and no amount of begging or coercion will change that. Knowing me as you do, you should be well aware that my conviction to a cause has always outweighed my personal wants or needs.”

  “Dammit, woman, I’ll never understand how I can love how committed ye are to some things, and at the same blasted time, despise how that commitment can turn ye from my loving wife into a…a…”

  “A pirate?”

  “Oh, ye’ve always been a pirate. I know better than to argue that now, but…”

  “Captain, I’m only doing what we agreed upon months ago. I’m not wearing this damn binding and these baggy slops because I’m enjoying it. Do I understand it? Yes, I’m not a fool. But I can promise you, before this mission is through, every man aboard this ship will know who I really am, and they won’t care, because I’ll have not only sewn them up and cured their sick bellies, but I’ll have saved their filthy necks as well.”.

  Eight

  SHE’S NO LADY

  By the time I’d marched out of Rasmus’s quarters and started back to the sick berth for the afternoon, what we believed to be the Virginia Belle was clearly in view and no more than five miles northeast of us. I was angry because I’d lost my temper and hadn’t allowed Rasmus to convey his plans to me on how we’d pursue and ultimately capture the dirty wench.

  I couldn’t imagine his plot, and it drove me mad with bitter bits of red-hot anticipation. If I did find any young women aboard that ship, I’d already decided I’d slice that captain into pieces so small the sharks wouldn’t even waste their time sniffing them out. As I walked, I found there was a purpose in my stride. I put my designs on James Robertson and decided, since his quarters were but a few steps through the passageway from mine, I’d subtly introduce myself and get a peek at whatever he was doing.

  His door was open, and he stood leaning forward with his hands spread out, gazing down at his charts as I approached. He was a tall young man and not a bad looking fellow at all. Hunched forward as he was, I could easily see by his broad shoulders and slender frame that he hadn’t spent all of his time pouring over maps and drawings. His sandy hair was swept away from his face in a ponytail. He was so focused on his work that it took more than a few seconds for him to even notice I’d stepped inside the doorway.

  I cleared my throat and asked, “Mister James Robertson, the navigator?”

  He looked up at me fast and straightened his back, folding his arms across his chest. “And you are?”

  “Ivan Razor, sir. Ship’s…well, doctor, I suppose; although two months of Sundays with a retired ship surgeon really doesn’t qualify me in my own eyes. But, the fact is, I’m all you’ve got, so I suppose that’s me. Oh, and I also help out the cook - mostly peeling potatoes.” />
  “That’s absurd. Your hands shouldn’t be slicing potatoes. But then again,” he smiled and winked, “that isn’t for me to say, now is it?” He reached across the broad, dark desk with his right hand, to which I dashed forward and shook it firmly.

  “Small hands—Razor, was it? But I can tell you’ve used them for quite a bit more than peeling potatoes and closing wounds,” he said, once again folding his arms, but this time with a raised brow.

  “Yes, sir…I mean, no. I worked on the restoration of the ship. I know every gun port and nail in her, sir.”

  “How old are ye, lad?”

  “Old enough to know we’re going after the Virginia Belle, and I’m not here to discuss my calloused hands, nor why you’re keeping those arms folded so tightly against you.”

  “Beg your pardon? What has my posture to do with our conversation? And how do you know of the Belle?” he asked, leaning forward again over his maps. His large hands and long fingers spread out like the wings of a bird.

  “I’d have thought Captain Bergman, or even Mister McCormack, would have told you who I was, and why I’m even on this mission, when they signed you on.”

  “Wait…you’re the one?”

  “Explain ‘the one’ and I’ll let you know,” I said, taking a chair from aside the desk and pulling it under me. I then nodded to him as an invite to join me and seat himself, which he did. His golden brown eyes glimmered at me, and a smile grew across his mouth.

  “You’re very good,” he purred.

  “Pardon?”

  “I honestly mistook you for a young lad.” He reached over and picked up a bottle and held it out with a cup and offered me a drink. I didn’t even care what was in it and sat back in the chair with a nod as he poured and handed it to me. “I’ll thank you to keep that in your hand and not set it on the desk. The slightest list, and hours of work could be ruined. I’m sure you understand.”