Portete
Chapter 30 - History Lessons
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NOTE: This story contains some harsh language, violence, and mature themes that might be upsetting to some readers. They are pirates, after all. Ye have been warned.
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The coast of Hispaniola rolled by as Daniel watched from the bow of the Relentless. The unspoiled tropical forest was resplendent with greens and yellows, and the crystal water beneath them revealed schools of fish, pods of dolphins, and white sand below. MacRorie was keeping them to the shallows – and out of the way of any ships they might have encountered otherwise. ByJam had ordered the French colors run up, just in case. The French West India Company ruled the waters, and, given the urgency of their voyage, the captain did not want to arouse any suspicion or call attention to themselves. Several men had crafted makeshift fishing poles and were trying their luck off the stern of the boat. Others were throwing dice or engaging in drinking competitions.
“Wonder what’s in the captain’s head.” James Patterson leaned his back against the rail and munched on a mango. “Not like him to leave Tortuga so early.”
“I suspect he has his reasons,” replied Daniel. “He does not seem like a man to do things rashly.”
Patterson chuckled. “You clearly don’t know the captain very well yet, lad.” He produced a bottle and drank a long pull of rum. “Do you know he once took us around the Cape of Good Hope because he heard a rumor of a rum so strong, it could actually keep a man young and smiling for the rest of his days?”
“Oh come on,” Daniel said incredulously.
“No lie, son. Of course, the fleet of Spanish warships pursuing us might have had to do with it, or the possibility of settling down at Libertatia…”
Daniel laughed. “Libertatia? The ‘Pirate Paradise’? You can’t be serious. It’s just a myth.”
“You are supposed to believe that. You think it would last long if everyone believed it was there? No, it’s real enough.”
“A kingdom ruled by pirates?”
“I would hardly call it a kingdom, lad, or a paradise for that matter. A bunch of old sea dogs who gave up the sweet trade and built some huts and houses. No paradise, that.”
“But you said…”
“It’s there, Danny-boy. And it is a perfect place for a pirate to unload, rest up, and restock. Well fortified, and the natives are loyal… and willing, if you take my meaning.” The pirate nudged his arm and laughed.
“So you made it there?” asked Daniel, taking the bottle and sipping the liquor.
“Oh, aye. We made it there.”
“And the rum?”
“Plenty of rum, to be sure. But nothing out of the ordinary. And of course MacRorie got into it with the self-proclaimed ‘king’ over some island trollop.”
“MacRorie fighting over a woman?” Daniel was incredulous.
“Not by his choice, I assure you. Women are like rum to the captain; they should be shared with friends and enjoyed freely.”
“I assume the king did not share that sentiment.”
“Aye, he was most put out when he caught our dear captain knockin’ the backside out of his favorite wife.”
“I see…”
“Captain tried to talk him down, but Baldridge was wild-eyed and drunk. MacRorie had to kill him or run.”
“Baldridge? That was the king?”
“Aye. Adam Baldridge. A slack-jawed scallywag that ever called himself pirate. He retired there first, so the claim to the so-called ‘crown’ was his. MacRorie could have killed him easily. The three hundred natives, freed slaves, and other pirates were a different matter altogether.”
“So you ran?”
“Captain managed to calm ol’ Adam down long enough to get everyone aboard and set sail. But we’re certainly not welcome there anymore.”
“I did read an account of a pirate port near Malagasy… St. Mary’s, was it?”
“Aye. St. Mary’s was what outsiders called it.”
“Captain William Kidd wrote that he stopped there!”
“Indeed, he did, but Kidd was no pirate, no matter what they say.”
“Not a pirate? But he was tried and convicted and hung!”
“He was a bumbling, arrogant, and stubborn man,” interrupted MacRorie, joining them. “Unfit to be called a pirate, let alone a captain.”
“But all those that swore against him… I read the account!”
“Aye, you read the lies and false testimony of paid men. Fact is, ol’ Billy was never anything more than a would-be privateer. And a sorry one at that.”
“But what about the treasure he buried? The chests of gold?”
“Stolen by his one-time benefactors, no doubt,” said Patterson. “But the best part of it all was the execution.”
MacRorie chuckled. “Aye, that was something.”
“Why?” asked Daniel, immediately regretting the question.
“You never read the account of the hanging, Danny-boy?” Patterson grinned at him. “Rope broke the first time.”
“Dear God,” breathed Daniel.
MacRorie laughed. “Aye, then they strung his choking, twitching, coughing arse up a second time. After he pissed and shat himself, they gibbeted him.”
“Crows had a feast that day, to be sure,” added Patterson.
“Hung there for two years, he did,” mused MacRorie thoughtfully. “Hell of a way to go, don’t you think, Daniel?”
“It sounds barbaric, actually.”
“My thoughts exactly, son. All the more reason to not be caught!” MacRorie and Patterson laughed heartily and tapped their bottles together, toasting one another.
“Where are we headed, Captain?” asked Patterson.
“Petite Goave, Mister Patterson. I have business there. You will be in charge while I am gone.”
“Me, sir? What about Rec?”
“I need him with me, James. You’re the bosun. Not to worry, though. I dinnae expect you to be doing much but drinking and wenching. But in a pinch, I need you to take care of the ship and the lads. And you are the one I trust the most. You know that.”
“No worries, Captain. Drinking and wenching indeed. I think I remember a sweet young wanton in Petite Goave. Her father’s the landlord of La Débarcadère if I remember right.”
“Griffin?” asked MacRorie. “You're not talkin’ about little Meg, are ye?”
“Aye... Margaret! Homely looking thing, but she fucks like a banshee, no lie!”
Daniel looked from one man to the other and shook his head. “I’ll be below,” he said. “Someone wake me when we reach land.”
The two pirates watched him leave, and MacRorie’s smile faded. “No,w James, I will be taking young Daniel with me when we reach port.”
Patterson raised an eyebrow. “Captain?”
“Trust me, James. Now, I don’t actually know yet where we will be, but Griffin will know. If you need to, he will be able to get word to me. Just try not to let him catch you railing his only daughter beforehand.” The captain winked at him.
“Aye, Alistair,” sighed Patterson. “I suppose I’ll have to find another willing lass.”
“But James, I’ll give you fair warning, Johnson’s crew will be there, too.”
“The Irredeemables? What are they doing in Petite Goave?”
“It is better if you don’t know, old friend. For now, anyways. Suffice it to say, none of them know any more than you do. Just keep a watchful eye out. We don’t be needing any bad blood between us.”
Patterson shrugged. “We’re all in the account, Captain. Men of the sea. As long as they don’t start any trouble, there won’t be any trouble.”
“Good to hear, James. I know I can count on you.” They touched bottles again. MacRorie tilted his head with a worried expression. “James?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“We seem to be out of rum.”
“It would appear that way,” replied Patterson, peering into the now-empty bottle.
“I do not find this situation acceptable, Mr. Patterson.”
“Nor do I, Captain. What do you suggest?”
The bearded pirate grinned back at him. MacRorie cupped his hand around his mouth and bellowed, “Vastine! More rum!”
Samuel Vastine, one of the young powder monkeys aboard the Relentless, scurried from his perch atop a water barrel near the forecastle. He was skinny and well tanned, with long black hair that hung over his eyes. With a grin, he called back, “Aye, Captain!”
“Two bottles!!” roared MacRorie. He clapped Patterson on the shoulder and stared out over the water.
