A last bit of pirate-y goodness
Sep. 19th, 2009 09:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valarltdThis is from Peregrine Off of High Barbary, the unfinished sequel to Kestrel
"Oh aye, Thomas Harrison is sailing again," the white-haired man in the tavern said. He took a long pull of his beer. "Twice as fierce as he ever was, for all that he has only one hand now. The other..." He shuddered, his round merry face clouding, and drank again. "Made a deal with the devil, he did. Got a hand of iron that works like a real one. They say the fingertips of it are so sharp he ripped out Captain Rodgers' heart and ate it, raw. That's how he got Rodgers' ship. I have it from the Gunner's mate."
Nathaniel Collins knew better than to believe more than half of what he heard in a tavern. Thomas had survived their duel and the ensuing amputation, he knew that. He had a realistic-looking false hand instead of a mere hook. And he had killed Emmanuel Rodgers and taken his ship. That much was all likely true.
He dropped a few shillings in front of the man. "The Master of Breakfront thanks you," he said and drew his cloak about him.
The old man caught his wrist. "He's looking for you, Nathaniel Collins. You were smart to retire and buy a farm."
“My friend bought the farm. I am just his supply captain."
The old man laughed. "They tell a different tale down in port. They say young Adlai won the farm in a game of Whist and that he is your husband, not your friend. That when the churchmen came to cast you two out as sodomites, the pair of you slaughtered them like wolves among sheep."
"Jack, you know not to believe all you hear over a tankard. He won the farm and hired me to do his sailing. No more than that." Collins left, uneasy with the gossip.
"Oh aye, Thomas Harrison is sailing again," the white-haired man in the tavern said. He took a long pull of his beer. "Twice as fierce as he ever was, for all that he has only one hand now. The other..." He shuddered, his round merry face clouding, and drank again. "Made a deal with the devil, he did. Got a hand of iron that works like a real one. They say the fingertips of it are so sharp he ripped out Captain Rodgers' heart and ate it, raw. That's how he got Rodgers' ship. I have it from the Gunner's mate."
Nathaniel Collins knew better than to believe more than half of what he heard in a tavern. Thomas had survived their duel and the ensuing amputation, he knew that. He had a realistic-looking false hand instead of a mere hook. And he had killed Emmanuel Rodgers and taken his ship. That much was all likely true.
He dropped a few shillings in front of the man. "The Master of Breakfront thanks you," he said and drew his cloak about him.
The old man caught his wrist. "He's looking for you, Nathaniel Collins. You were smart to retire and buy a farm."
“My friend bought the farm. I am just his supply captain."
The old man laughed. "They tell a different tale down in port. They say young Adlai won the farm in a game of Whist and that he is your husband, not your friend. That when the churchmen came to cast you two out as sodomites, the pair of you slaughtered them like wolves among sheep."
"Jack, you know not to believe all you hear over a tankard. He won the farm and hired me to do his sailing. No more than that." Collins left, uneasy with the gossip.
