Jaded Tides (The Razor's Adventures Pirate Tales) Page 7

  “You know why I’m here.”

  “Obviously, only I’m surprised your husband hasn’t already informed you of our plans.”

  “He’s not my husband, well at least not on this ship he isn’t, but no. Had he told me of the plan, I’d have most likely bypassed this visit altogether. As it stands now, I’m rather glad I didn’t.” I winked and smiled at him, holding out my cup in a toast.

  “Perhaps I should just verify your identity before we go any further, Mister Razor. I normally don’t discuss strategies with doctors or galley hands.”

  “You want proof that I’m who I say I am? Is that what you’re implying?” I asked sitting forward.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he answered, leaning forward as well.

  “I suppose you can’t be too careful. After all, code or not, we’ve all only been together at sea for a few days. There’s no reason not to believe any of us could be a rat, including yourself.”

  “I assure you, I’m more cat than rat.”

  I leaned over and set my cup on the floor. When I sat back again in the chair, I began unbuttoning my vest at a slow and methodical pace. His eyes met mine so hard with anticipation I thought to stop out of fear he would misinterpret my actions as an invitation to explore further levels of my acquaintance. However, knowing Rasmus as he now did, I was certain, regardless of what was growing in his imagination as well as under his desk, he would stay seated.

  I picked up my pace and decided to get this over with. They’re just tits for Christ’s sake, and there isn’t much of them, but when I reached my binding, he said, “Please, stop.”

  “What?”

  “Your binding is more than enough proof. Knowing you are, in fact, the Captain’s wife, and you were fully prepared to expose yourself to me, conjured an image in my mind of being torn to shreds by the sharks. I rather like Captain Bergman and would prefer to keep myself in one piece.”

  “That’s honorable of you, Mister Robertson, considering that watching a woman disrobe, for most of the men I’ve ever known, would far outweigh any loyalty to themselves, let alone their captain.” I said as I buttoned myself back into my clothes.

  “I have no desire to shame you, Missus Bergman, despite my unconscious glare. I have a feeling that beneath your façade lies a beautiful woman who is more than worthy of the affections of our good Captain.” His smile was awkward, and a youthful glow washed over his tan cheeks. I smiled and found him immediately endearing. I’d never seen a young man blush before, and so close to having seen a woman’s bare breasts, no less.

  “The question is, Mister Robertson, is he worthy of mine?” I winked, handing him my empty cup to refill.

  “Please, call me James. Having nearly seen you undressed, I feel we’re already friends.” He chuckled. “I don’t understand what you mean by that statement about the Captain, though.”

  “I simply wanted to test your reaction. You are in fact honorable and definitely loyal. Now, may we discuss this ingenious plan of yours?”

  “I’d be honored, Doctor Razor.”

  The bottle was empty, and I wasn’t full. However, I needed to keep my wits about me. Robertson excused himself and suggested I find my way to whatever post I was supposed to be at and keep my head low. I asked him why, and the only explanation he gave was, “If I’m but the slightest bit off on my calculations, this might end up being a rocky chase.”

  With the knowledge of their plot now tucked away in my hopes of success, I stumbled my way back to the sick berth and began writing in my journal. Although my head was a bit foggy, my thoughts were honest, as most men deep in their cups found theirs to be.

  September 13, 1707 Two twenty five PM

  Calm seas, very few clouds, and warmer than any September I can remember.

  Master Green called me down from the ratlines on the main mast this morning after sunrise. We believe the Virginia Belle is coming in from her last stop in the New World, most likely the Carolinas, according to Barclay’s secret log book. At the hour of this entry, she is growing closer, and the miles have shortened between us almost enough to discern if we are correct. Captain Bergman and Robertson have a plan, and should it work, although I have mainly doubts, our hope is to board her without incident.

  Captain Bergman seems tense and frustrated with my conviction to remain Ivan at all times. Our brief and passionate courtship, and even shorter marriage, seems to have left him at a disadvantage of knowing me at sea. I do not proclaim to be the greatest sailor that has ever lived but I am, however, unwavering in my duties, no matter the depth or breadth of my orders, or who gives them to me.

  I pray I do not disappoint him, as Ivory loves him so, but should he become disillusioned with Ivan and long for a glimpse of his wife, it will not be beneath me to love him and strip away my armor only long enough to remind him of why he married Ivory in the first place. After all, being his wife is my duty as well.

  “Mister Razor, care to join me on deck?” I heard a voice say from my doorway, and I turned to see James leaning in with his hands spread on the doorframe.

  “Is this it?” I asked, turning in my chair in a flash.

  “Well, if by it you mean are we about to go after the Belle, then yes, I suppose it is.” James winked and clicked his tongue in his cheek at me. I plopped my quill down on my desk and closed my log.

  The rush of excitement hit me so hard it knocked the drink right out of my churning blood. I flew behind James through the passageway and up to the deck at such a speed that I came close to tripping the man. It was no longer fear that gave me wings; it was the winds of vengeance and the fresh air of freedom. Captain Bergman had called everyone to the main deck, and we sat or stood about until every available hand was present.

  James moved to the center of the crowd and next to Rasmus, as did Master Green, and they stood shoulder to shoulder until our Captain stepped out and walked a circle within the circle. It seemed an eternity before he finally addressed us. I’d never seen him this way before. Of course, he’d been in charge of everyone whilst we restored the Demon Sea and even led us in battle with Thunder Cay, but there was something different about him. His posture and the way his big body moved about commanded our attention and respect. He was like a god in my eyes, and from the unmoving expressions on the faces around me, we all shared the same vision.

  “Gentleman, by your mark, you pledged your service to this vessel and your crew. As you know, our first prize is but a few hours away now, but what you don’t know is how we intend to catch her. That is what I’m here to explain.” Rasmus paced back and forth as he spoke. His voice carried above the flapping sails and the constant woosh and splashing of the sea beneath the Jade’s keel as she sliced through the water like a dull knife through melted butter.

  “She’s called the Virginia Belle. She’s riding low and heavy from what we can see, and there’s not a chance in the world she can outrun the Lady Jade. However, unlike some ships ye may have sailed and captains you’ve served, my intention isn’t to fire on her.”

  A low and widespread groan started to grow around me. It was the sound of confusion, or maybe disbelief, but nonetheless, our Captain was still speaking, and with the raising of his right hand to quiet them, he continued his pacing and removed his hat. “Settle down, men. We’ll board her, and you’ll all get your spoils, but as ye know, I have a mission other than just what she carries in her fat belly, and I won’t risk killing the innocent…ever.” His voice softened, and his eyes moved over the crowd until they fell upon mine. My heart swelled with so much pride, I had to swallow to keep it down in its place.

  “Yer speakin’ of the ladies, aye, Cap’n?” Fin spoke up and asked.

  “Aye, that’s exactly what I’m speaking of.” He turned and faced Fin dead on. “Ye all know what’s going on, so ye also know what is first and foremost when we board her. Myself and Master Green will go over first and attempt to negotiate in a civilized manner. However, we don’t expect afternoon tea, so the boar
ding party will be chosen by volunteer immediately after we’re finished here.”

  “Aye, Cap’n. So, how we gonna take her if’n we can’t attack?”

  “Ye all just pay attention and mind yer posts. We’re not going to face her bow to bow or even broadside; we’ve a much better course of action, so ye all have your orders. Beat to quarters men, and keep your eyes and ears open. Full canvas, Mister McCormack!” he shouted as he slammed his cavalier back on his head and stormed off toward the helm.

  I wanted desperately to race after him, but Ivan held me back. I knew I needed to get to the sick berth and prepare for anything, but for a moment, I just stood there, staring out at the ship in the distance through my squinted eyes and flattened brow, panting like a thirsty mutt.

  Nine

  ORDERS ARE ORDERS

  During the time spent repairing the Demon Sea, her flag was burned. Fortunately, one of the new crew had proven to be an extraordinary artist. One of Rasmus’s many gifts was utilizing the God-given talents of every man aboard, if they had any to use. Most of our crew was under thirty, and in this business that was a God-given gift as well. I’d gone over the crew manifest and come up with an average age of these young men to be twenty-two, but there was a handful still hanging on from the Augustus who were even younger than me. One of them was Renaldo.

  I couldn’t make out the lad’s last name on the manifest, and to be honest, aboard ship most of the men went by some sort of moniker rather than their given names. Renaldo, being the fabulous artist he was, went by Michelangelo, after the famous artist. Of course in our world, even Michelangelo wasn’t short enough, so we just called him Mick. He seemed to like it and was flattered for the compliment. Being a Spaniard, he was Catholic, and being called the name of the artist who’d painted the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel was a pretty high honor.

  So, Mick was charged with designing and creating our new flag. Today would be her first unveiling. I’d only caught a glimpse when she was folded and placed securely in a box. The anticipation of her maiden flight, high atop the main mast, was a sight I longed to behold. I was told she bore the arm of a man, painted in white, with a broken shackle on the wrist and a broadsword in his hand. To the right of the sword was a bleeding heart, but the blood dripped in pale green stones.

  “Psst…hey Doc, ye gots me stomach juice?” I startled from my daydream when I heard the familiar gritty voice of the black-footed gunner at my open door.

  “Oh, aye, I have it here,” I answered, racing to my apothecary cabinet and retrieving the mixture, which I poured into a small glass bottle and plugged with a cork stopper. “Drink half of this now, before we start to come about. The sea’s fairly calm, but once we make the turn, we’ll be in the Belle’s wake before long.”

  He took the bottle from my hand, pulled the stopper, and immediately swallowed the entire contents. He made a sour face and wiped the excess from his lips with the back of his free hand. “Not bad,” he purred as he shoved the empty container back at me. “I’ll be back later, God willin’, if I need it.”

  “We’re not going to engage her, sir. I wouldn’t worry,” I said over my shoulder, dipping the bottle in a bowl of clean water on the table several times and rinsing it out.

  “Ye feel that, laddie?” he asked in a slow and monotonous voice. His eyes shifted to the right in his skull, looking towards the porthole.

  “Ye mean the turn? Aye, she’s smooth as glass,” I answered, nodding.

  “Ye green as the grass, boy. I’m speakin’ a’ the wind. Can’t ye feel her fillin’ the canvas and givin’ us a yank? There’s a storm comin’. Ye won’t smell it fer a bit, but that ain’t no usual tug. That’s a grab ye by the arse and spank ye gust. That there Belle ain’t got a prayer against this here beauty. Whatever plan the Cap’n has, I’ll have them guns ready, just in case time runs out an ‘e ain’t no choice but ta do a little spankin’ ‘imself.” He let out a squeaky rasp of a laugh and was gone.

  He was right. I closed my eyes and let go of everything but my feet from the floor, and my body began to pull forward toward the bow. I waited until the sensation filled me completely before I had to at last reach out and hold onto something to balance myself. I thought for a moment I was flying. My insides were being pulled towards the sea, and my breathing sped up until I had to balance that, too. I ran to my porthole and watched as we crept into a watery arc and continued until left was now right and right was left.

  It seemed like forever before we’d reached the far end of that arc, but once we did, the Virginia Belle was now no more than a mile away and now parallel to our position. I could hear the men scrambling about, and the hard push of the wind that moved me so had alleviated somewhat. I no longer felt myself being shoved towards the bow, but merely nudged. We were slowing down and we’d gotten ahead of the storm, if there really was one, for now.

  There I sat, alone in my cabin. I heard the stomping of boots and the slapping of bare feet all around me. The sounds increased from moment to moment, along with the shouts and echoes of orders from man to man. It had become unbearable. I tapped my fingertips on the desk and stared down at the cover of my medical log. “How long must I suffer the indignity of this masquerade, with my hands and feet shackled by my true self?” I mumbled and then flipped open the log.

  “One seasick gunner…pffth,” I again mumbled. All I wanted now was to hear those four words called from bow to stern; all hands on deck. I was still a hand, and definitely handy when necessary. I decided I’d had my fill of this idle nonsense and thought at least in the galley I’d have access to some of the crew, and Hawk would certainly keep both my hands and ears engaged.

  I slammed the log closed and washed my hands before bolting from the sick berth. When I reached the galley, Hawk was the only man in sight, and I was surprised to see him seated on a stool and not chopping away on something.

  “Razor, shouldn’t ye…be on deck…doin’ some useful…thing?” he asked. His voice was broken by short gasps for breath and his skin was pale and ashen.

  “Are ye ill, Hawk?” I approached him slowly.

  “Aye, nothin’ I haven’t felt before, lad.”

  “Good God, don’t tell me you’re seasick, too?”

  “Don’t ye be makin’ a fuss, Razor. I’m not seasick. Too much a’ the damn cheap drink over the years…among other cheap things I’d not mention at the moment. No cookin’ tonight anyway.” He sighed, and as the air escaped him, he coughed so long and hard he shook from his shoulders to his feet.

  “Let me help ye to your bunk,” I said, scooping him under one arm and helping him to his feet. In that moment, I felt the shudder of the keel as she crossed over a swell. We’d either come upon some rough water, or as I’d told the gunner earlier, we’d finally crossed into the Belle’s wake. “Come on, lie down. And for God’s sake, no more drinking tonight. You’ll need your wits about you until this is all over.” He nodded, and I led him to his bunk in the far corner of the kitchen and laid him down.

  “Razor, yer a decent lad,” he said as I filled a cup of water and placed it in his hand.

  “My arse. I just don’t want your damn job, ye old bilge rat.”

  As soon as I placed a damp cloth on his forehead, I hurried back to my cabin, armed myself, and crept warily up the gangway to the main deck. The sun was setting, and I wondered how Rasmus intended to execute his plan in the dark. I pressed my hat down hard on my head and lowered my face before carrying on towards the bow.

  Directly ahead of us, she was. I made my way along the starboard side unnoticed, as all eyes were focused on the stern of Belle, now less than a mile ahead. The Jade had swung into motion, and the air of hunger and hot blood was so thick I moved on as if I were treading through a muddy marsh. The deck was quiet and eerie. The boots and bare feet were now silent, and their throats seemed choked of air, but for a few routine orders to hold this line or that one.

  The Jade rose and fell in Belle’s watery tail. As she began a gentle turn southwes
t, the setting sun hit her broadside, setting her sails aglow with a flaming red and orange radiance, as if they’d caught fire in the wind. I looked up for a moment as we, in turn, came about to hold our position as the hunter, and I found the Jade’s sails on fire as well. They were arched forward, full of the warm evening wind, like the pregnant belly of a woman on the day of giving birth. There was still no smell of a storm, but the electricity that snapped in the atmosphere was as tangible as the line in my hand, and stung as much in my palm when the line pulled through my hand sharply as it came loose from its hook.

  I held tightly onto it, and pulled as hard as I could, until I noticed another pair of hands above mine, and I tugged even harder. They were the large hands of Master Green, and together, we tied her off securely before he took my arm and pulled me aside near the gunnel.

  “What do you think you are doing up here?” he growled at me in a whisper. His light green eyes burned into me, and I yanked free of him, to which he promptly snatched me again. This time, I was certain the amount of pressure he was applying would leave a nasty bruise.

  “There isn’t anything for me to do down there. I’d be much more useful up here. Besides, I wanted to see her. Is that a crime?” I stood on my toes and barked at him, writhing beneath his vice-like grasp.

  “You have your orders. They were to remain in the sick berth. Pardon my candor, but you are quite possibly the worst sailor I’ve ever known.” At last, he released me with a shove.

  “Rasmus wouldn’t appreciate you treating me so, you know,” I said, rubbing at my sore arm. “Leave me alone, why don’t you? Just carry on with whatever you were doing. Pretend you didn’t even see me. Jesus Christ, I’m beginning to feel no better off than I was the last time I sailed on this ship. You’re all nothing but brutish beasts, and I’ll not be treated like a helpless child anymore. Do you understand me, sir?” At the conclusion of my rant, I found myself no more than a few inches from the chiseled chin of the large quartermaster, with the index finger of my right hand poking into his rock hard chest.