Portete - Chapter 41
Questions
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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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Daniel nearly choked on his rum, coughing and wiping the strong liquor from his chin. Jonathan Mara laughed.
“Relax, my boy.” He clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “I know your intentions. And you have my blessing.” Daniel gaped. The governor continued. “What, you thought I wouldn’t approve? Or did you honestly think I didn’t know?”
“No, sir… I mean… yes. Wait. I’m… confused.”
The governor chuckled again. “Sorry. Let me be frank, Daniel. You love Jessica. You have for years. And she loves you. You tried to keep it from me, thinking that I was like all the rest of the pompous asses with titles like Lord and Duke. Probably justifiably so. But I did know. Hell, I probably realised you two would fall in love before you did.” He sipped his rum and leaned his elbows on the stone railing. “The truth is, Daniel, I won’t be around forever. Christ, I may not even survive this whole ordeal. But knowing you will be looking after my daughter… it eases my heart.”
“Sir…”
“You do love her, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I just always assumed you would not approve, me being… well… not wealthy or titled and all.”
“That never mattered to me. And besides, she’s my only child. Everything I have is hers. And now… everything that was your father’s is yours. That makes you a very wealthy man, Daniel, not even taking into consideration what you may have acquired in the past few months with the Relentless.”
“About that, sir. About me being a…”
“A pirate? Don’t think on it, son. Some of these criminals are better men than those who sit with the King himself. I judge a man by his actions towards those he cares about. You have done well by Jessie. You have my trust, and my thanks.” The governor placed his hand on Daniel’s shoulder and gave him a kind look. Then he drained his glass and went inside, leaving Daniel to look out over the neatly groomed gardens of Chateau de Valmont.
“He should get nothing,” hissed del Vigo, fighting with her dress. “What has he done to deserve one piece of gold, eh? Write silly stories that only silly ladies and bichas read and then whine and cry over some stupid girl?” She now stood naked in the lantern light, and Johnson sighed and sat on the soft featherbed, trying not to notice.
“Dulci, we promised Geoffrey years ago…”
“I don’t give a shit! I promised nothing.” She stood with her hands on her hips, which only drew more attention to the curves of her lithe body.
Johnson squinted and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “You promised when you married me and were brought into this to follow the plans and the agreements.”
“I don’t care. He should not be here. He is an outsider.”
“He fought with Alistair, Dulcinea! He has killed and plundered just like we have.”
“No. Not like we have. We choose this life! We do this for years and risk our lives for this. He’s only alive because of luck and the mercy of Alistair fucking MacRorie. You know he’s trying to replace you, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s going to elevate his new friend above you and push you away. I can see it already.”
“That’s ridiculous. First of all, there is no ‘above’ me. There is no ‘above’ anyone. We are all equal partners in this.”
“Oh? Then why does Mendoza make the decisions and tell everyone what to do?”
“Only when it comes to business. He is the best at it. He certainly doesn’t try to tell us how to sail or pillage or plunder.”
“Alistair does.”
“What?” Johnson’s eyes narrowed, and he glared at her.
“He tells you what to do, and you listen like a child trying to impress papa. You do not stand up to him for anything.”
“Why do I need to? We rarely disagree. And when he asks me to do something, he has a damn good reason. And vice versa!”
“Has he ever done anything you asked?”
“What?”
“When was the last time you asked him to do something?”
“I don’t know… I…”
“You don’t. Because you’re afraid of him. He is more of a man than you.” Her face changed to a lewd smile, and she ran her hands up her taut abdomen to her firm breasts. “Probably better at fucking, too. Maybe I should find out…”
Johnson roared with rage and sprang to his feet. “You little whore! How dare you…”
“Then prove it, cabron!” She didn’t flinch but locked his gaze, looking up at his reddening face. Her hands were back to her hips defiantly. “You tell him! You go to him now and tell him this puppy gets nothing! Then you go to Mendoza together and tell him. Then we’ll be done with this whole mess!”
Johnson fumed, nearly shaking with rage. His powerful hands grabbed both her shoulders as if to shake her. Her face did not change, except for a smile creeping across her lips.
“That’s more like it,” she breathed. “That’s the man I married. Violent… strong…” He began to pull her closer, but she broke away, lazily turning and looking over her bare shoulder. “When you come back,” she said. “Then you can have me.”
With a frustrated growl, the pirate stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
In his cabin aboard the Relentless, Alistair MacRorie pored over his charts and maps, making notes and calculations. He paused to sip his rum and then went back to work. He always focused better when in his own cabin. The Chateau de Valmont was lush and comfortable, but everything he needed was here, including privacy and quiet. The glow of the several lanterns he had lit cast shadows and reflections around the room, illuminating some of the captain’s treasures. Gold clocks from Switzerland, silver crosses from Spain, various blades from more countries than he could remember. He enjoyed the luxury of the wealthy, but nowhere else did he feel as comfortable. He reached to move the flintlock pistol that lay across his maps when he heard the sound of heavy boots coming down the stairs outside the cabin. There was no attempt to be stealthy; they were hurried and loud. He raised the gun towards the door and pulled the hammer back. With a crash, Johnson burst into the room, breathing heavily and face clouded with fury.
“Alistair.” His rage was barely contained. He ignored the gun in his face. “We need to talk.”
“Alright, Stephen. As soon as you sit down and have a drink, mate, we’ll talk.” He handed the other captain a glass filled with rum and slowly lowered the weapon to the desk, still pointed at the bearded pirate. “What has you in such a state, old friend?”
Johnson swallowed the drink in one gulp and slammed the glass down on the desk. His voice was a growl. “He has no right to any of it. And I’m not willin’ to give it to him.”
“He has every right to it, Stephen.” MacRorie leaned in and removed his tri-fold hat. “I dannae know what’s in yer head, Captain, but you know as well as I that we owe it to him to at least give him the choice. We made a promise…”
“Promise be damned! He’s not one of us. He didn’t endure what we endured. He’s no right to it, and he won’t have it!” Johnson stood up, hand on the wicked-looking blade at his side.
“Watch your tone, old friend,” murmured MacRorie, not moving. “He’s a member of my crew now, and whether or not he gets any is not open for discussion.” He stood slowly, keeping an even tone. “He rightfully takes his father’s place, Stephen. You know that. Just as Dulcinea is joined by marriage, Daniel is joined by blood.”
Johnson glowered at him, and MacRorie returned a stony stare. The tension seemed to build, and then Johnson turned on his heel and made for the door.
“Stephen.” The big man stopped but did not turn around. MacRorie’s voice was steady, but cold. “The next time you think of drawing steel on me, you'd better be sure you're ready to die.”
Johnson turned halfway back and fixed him with an equally icy stare. “Alistair, if I ever draw steel on you, the devil himself won’t save you.”
Johnson slammed the door behind him, and MacRorie sat, trying to keep his rage under control. He emptied his glass and refilled it, then emptied it again, letting the fire of the amber spirit warm his throat.
“Dammit!” The glass shattered in his hand, cutting his palm and fingers. “Stubborn, stupid horse’s ass!” The pirate wrapped a piece of cloth around his bleeding hand and stormed out of his cabin.
If only patience could be bought