More mostly-work-safe pirates
Sep. 19th, 2006 12:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valarltdThere be no bouncing bunks here, neither, just much sharp wit.
On Nassau, Collins berthed and gave the crew shore leave. He left a rotating skeleton crew a bit larger than usual because of the Kestrel being docked there as well, and took Adlai ashore.
Collins knew–just knew–he was asking for trouble taking Adlai into a tavern with him. It didn’t matter. He had to do it someday and better now than later. They passed the Black Galleon. Collins knew it was Harrison’s favorite. The Salt Spray was a better choice.
They took a table in a back corner. “House special, with dinner,” Collins told the barmaid. The stew was a little greasy but the bread was fresh. Adlai sipped his beer and ate neatly.
“Lovely manners,” came an all-too-familiar voice, mocking as Adlai caught an errant drip of stew with his napkin. Harrison leaned on the table with one arm. The slim Moroccan boy slunk along in his shadow. “Better suited to a garden party than privateering.”
Collins looked at the youth. “Breaking your own iron rule, Thomas? No slaves, you always said. And here you are with a beardless slaveboy. A eunuch maybe?”
“Samir isn’t a slave or a eunuch. Nor beardless. He shaves closely as his mustachios looked ridiculous.” He stroked the boy’s long hair. “I caught him cutting my purse in Gibralter. I offered to take him aboard or turn him over to the authorities. He picked sailing.”
Samir lifted his chin and sneered at the other two. “I am look-out and Captain’s prize and old enough to be both. I am doing well for myself.”
Collins shrugged. “Sounds like scut-work from every quarter. Enjoy your life of piracy, Samir.” Adlai said nothing, as was fitting when free men spoke.
Samir ran long, laquered fingernails over Adlai’s cheek. “Pretty eyes. Make pretty earrings for Samir, no?”
Collins caught his wrist. “No. Get your hands off Adlai.” Samir obliged with a laugh. “Don’t you touch him again.”
Harrison stroked Samir’s hair again. “He’s a little wild. Possessive, aren’t you?”
“I should be. I learned from the best. Isn’t that what you always told me?” Collins gave an ugly smile.
Harrison’s eyes narrowed but he sat anyway, uninvited, and gestured for four drinks. “Indeed I did. So, are pickings good?”
“Not bad. Yours?”
“Adequate. Not so good I can spend five hundred on a single ornament, but not bad.”
Harrison was an incurable gossip and braggart. His tongue was hinged in the middle and wagged at both ends. He told all the news he’d had and, after the fourth beer, spoke of the Spanish galleon he’d taken a month earlier.
Adlai finished his food and the beer Collins had bought. He didn’t touch the one Harrison bought him. He scooted infinitesimally closer to Collins. He didn’t like the way Samir kept looking at him.
Harrison ordered another round of drinks, not noticing or caring that Adlai hadn’t touched the first. He drank deeply and looked at Collins.
“Damn shame we couldn’t work it out, ‘Thaniel.” There was a wistfulness in his tone that startled Adlai and made Samir scowl. Collins kept his face neutral. “I’m game for another go. A partnership if you like. Two ships are more powerful than one and safer.”
“You’re a colonial fool, Thomas, if you think I want anything to do with you,” Collins sneered. “Keep your dreams of a fleet and leave me out of them. I’ll go to Hell in my own way, not splitting the take 80-20 and letting you dictate to me.”
“Stubborn English bastard. Full share of all takes to every crewman on any ship.” He looked at Adlai. “Including the chained ones.”
In French, Adlai said, “I am not to be bought for any such price from Master Collins.”
Harrison understood and laughed. “Smart and spiteful. You’re lucky he doesn’t cut your throat in your sleep, since you are bunking with him.” It was not a question.
Adlai did not scowl. He kept his face perfectly blank. He would not tell the enemy where he slept or did not sleep.
Collins seized Harrison’s jabot and dragged his face up close. “Who I bunk with is no longer your concern.” He slammed Harrison against the high wooden back of the booth, and let him slide back into his seat.
Harrison laughed again. “You do miss me, ‘Thaniel.” He stroked Samir’s long hair, mostly to soothe himself. It didn’t help enough and he turned vicious. “I wouldn’t have you back. Not a lazy, dull lover like you, who lies dead as month-old mutton. Not after Samir.”
“Maybe if you weren’t selfish and dull yourself, you’d have found me more interesting.” Collins knew he was being baited but couldn’t resist returning it. “I hear Samir is quite good. In fact, I hear you spend so much time abed with your sweet ganymede, that Peter Ringrose runs the ship and takes prizes without telling you.”
Collins took another drink. “The wonder of it is that the Kestrel can take a ship at all, with half the crew buggering the other half all the day, and then praying to the bald bishop all night.”
Collins had forgotten exactly how mean of a drunk Harrison was. At the bottom of a third mug himself, he missed the warning signs of the impending explosion in the powder magazine of Harrison’s temper.
“Were it not for the barnacles and seaweed, the Kestrel would be sinking, her hull wooden lacework. Tis only the parasites holding her together as the crew exchange body lice. Is it true your helmsman lost his eye trying to fornicate with a seagull?” He took another drink before adding a final jeer. “I well remember the cook having to wash any supper eels twice, as they’d always been up someone’s arse.”
Adlai’s hand shot out and froze one of Samir’s motions in mid-movement. A single severed braid of his hair was in Samir’s fist. Still in French, he said “My master has said you do not touch his property.”
Samir simply looked at him. Adlai repeated himself, in English, and rapped Samir’s wrist on the table to make him drop the braid.
Samir gave a nasty laugh. “I obey my Captain, not yours, slave.”
This was too much for Collins. He stood and reached across the table, trying for Samir’s long braid. The beer sang in his head, making him want to fight. He wanted to pound the beautiful face until it stopped laughing, until Samir was as ugly outside as inside.
Harrison sprang to his feet and blocked Collins’s punch. “That is my boy. You are no longer quartermaster to give discipline to my crew and so you do not touch him.”
“Teach him to keep his hands from what is not his,” Collins snarled. “Were I still in charge of discipline, he would be taking lashes for assaulting a crewman.”
“You always were a harsh one. That was a prank, not an assault. He meant no harm by it.”
Samir’s expression left Collins doubting that statement. Adlai tugged at his sleeve, urging him to sit down.
“Please. I am not hurt, Master Captain.” Desperate to avert a conflict over himself, Adlai gritted his teeth and stroked Collins’ hand. Collins smiled down at him him, but his face was pure loathing when he turned it back to his rival.
“So then. What would be fair payment for a lock of slave boy’s hair?” Harrison asked. “The dinner tab?” He tossed down the last of his drink.
Collins smirked. A free meal and an expression of Adlai’s feelings for him: it wasn’t going to be a wasted evening after all. “It’s yours.”
Harrison caught him by the coat and drew him up close. “In earlier days, I’d have kissed that look off your face. Or slapped it away. Now I say if you lay hands on my Samir again, it’s your blood.” He deliberately drained Adlai’s untouched beer. “You know, I don’t think I will pay. I think you should cover it all, as payment for your insults.”
“I won’t pay for you.” Collins gave Samir a derisive glare. “Or your Barbary gutter rat.”
Harrison’s sneer was ugly. “And I won’t pay for the drinks for you or your colored catamite.” He leaned across the table. “You can tell me, ‘Thaniel. Is his ass pink, like an ape’s, or black as the rest of him?”
This time Collins hauled the mocking Harrison from the booth and slammed him hard onto the table. Harrison was drunk enough to laugh. He caught the crockery mug before Collins could smash it over his face and shoved Collins off of him.
“Draw then if you’re man enough,” he laughed.
Seeing the distress on the barmaid’s face and the way the other patrons hugged their plates and drinks, Collins straightened his clothes and said, “Outside.”
On Nassau, Collins berthed and gave the crew shore leave. He left a rotating skeleton crew a bit larger than usual because of the Kestrel being docked there as well, and took Adlai ashore.
Collins knew–just knew–he was asking for trouble taking Adlai into a tavern with him. It didn’t matter. He had to do it someday and better now than later. They passed the Black Galleon. Collins knew it was Harrison’s favorite. The Salt Spray was a better choice.
They took a table in a back corner. “House special, with dinner,” Collins told the barmaid. The stew was a little greasy but the bread was fresh. Adlai sipped his beer and ate neatly.
“Lovely manners,” came an all-too-familiar voice, mocking as Adlai caught an errant drip of stew with his napkin. Harrison leaned on the table with one arm. The slim Moroccan boy slunk along in his shadow. “Better suited to a garden party than privateering.”
Collins looked at the youth. “Breaking your own iron rule, Thomas? No slaves, you always said. And here you are with a beardless slaveboy. A eunuch maybe?”
“Samir isn’t a slave or a eunuch. Nor beardless. He shaves closely as his mustachios looked ridiculous.” He stroked the boy’s long hair. “I caught him cutting my purse in Gibralter. I offered to take him aboard or turn him over to the authorities. He picked sailing.”
Samir lifted his chin and sneered at the other two. “I am look-out and Captain’s prize and old enough to be both. I am doing well for myself.”
Collins shrugged. “Sounds like scut-work from every quarter. Enjoy your life of piracy, Samir.” Adlai said nothing, as was fitting when free men spoke.
Samir ran long, laquered fingernails over Adlai’s cheek. “Pretty eyes. Make pretty earrings for Samir, no?”
Collins caught his wrist. “No. Get your hands off Adlai.” Samir obliged with a laugh. “Don’t you touch him again.”
Harrison stroked Samir’s hair again. “He’s a little wild. Possessive, aren’t you?”
“I should be. I learned from the best. Isn’t that what you always told me?” Collins gave an ugly smile.
Harrison’s eyes narrowed but he sat anyway, uninvited, and gestured for four drinks. “Indeed I did. So, are pickings good?”
“Not bad. Yours?”
“Adequate. Not so good I can spend five hundred on a single ornament, but not bad.”
Harrison was an incurable gossip and braggart. His tongue was hinged in the middle and wagged at both ends. He told all the news he’d had and, after the fourth beer, spoke of the Spanish galleon he’d taken a month earlier.
Adlai finished his food and the beer Collins had bought. He didn’t touch the one Harrison bought him. He scooted infinitesimally closer to Collins. He didn’t like the way Samir kept looking at him.
Harrison ordered another round of drinks, not noticing or caring that Adlai hadn’t touched the first. He drank deeply and looked at Collins.
“Damn shame we couldn’t work it out, ‘Thaniel.” There was a wistfulness in his tone that startled Adlai and made Samir scowl. Collins kept his face neutral. “I’m game for another go. A partnership if you like. Two ships are more powerful than one and safer.”
“You’re a colonial fool, Thomas, if you think I want anything to do with you,” Collins sneered. “Keep your dreams of a fleet and leave me out of them. I’ll go to Hell in my own way, not splitting the take 80-20 and letting you dictate to me.”
“Stubborn English bastard. Full share of all takes to every crewman on any ship.” He looked at Adlai. “Including the chained ones.”
In French, Adlai said, “I am not to be bought for any such price from Master Collins.”
Harrison understood and laughed. “Smart and spiteful. You’re lucky he doesn’t cut your throat in your sleep, since you are bunking with him.” It was not a question.
Adlai did not scowl. He kept his face perfectly blank. He would not tell the enemy where he slept or did not sleep.
Collins seized Harrison’s jabot and dragged his face up close. “Who I bunk with is no longer your concern.” He slammed Harrison against the high wooden back of the booth, and let him slide back into his seat.
Harrison laughed again. “You do miss me, ‘Thaniel.” He stroked Samir’s long hair, mostly to soothe himself. It didn’t help enough and he turned vicious. “I wouldn’t have you back. Not a lazy, dull lover like you, who lies dead as month-old mutton. Not after Samir.”
“Maybe if you weren’t selfish and dull yourself, you’d have found me more interesting.” Collins knew he was being baited but couldn’t resist returning it. “I hear Samir is quite good. In fact, I hear you spend so much time abed with your sweet ganymede, that Peter Ringrose runs the ship and takes prizes without telling you.”
Collins took another drink. “The wonder of it is that the Kestrel can take a ship at all, with half the crew buggering the other half all the day, and then praying to the bald bishop all night.”
Collins had forgotten exactly how mean of a drunk Harrison was. At the bottom of a third mug himself, he missed the warning signs of the impending explosion in the powder magazine of Harrison’s temper.
“Were it not for the barnacles and seaweed, the Kestrel would be sinking, her hull wooden lacework. Tis only the parasites holding her together as the crew exchange body lice. Is it true your helmsman lost his eye trying to fornicate with a seagull?” He took another drink before adding a final jeer. “I well remember the cook having to wash any supper eels twice, as they’d always been up someone’s arse.”
Adlai’s hand shot out and froze one of Samir’s motions in mid-movement. A single severed braid of his hair was in Samir’s fist. Still in French, he said “My master has said you do not touch his property.”
Samir simply looked at him. Adlai repeated himself, in English, and rapped Samir’s wrist on the table to make him drop the braid.
Samir gave a nasty laugh. “I obey my Captain, not yours, slave.”
This was too much for Collins. He stood and reached across the table, trying for Samir’s long braid. The beer sang in his head, making him want to fight. He wanted to pound the beautiful face until it stopped laughing, until Samir was as ugly outside as inside.
Harrison sprang to his feet and blocked Collins’s punch. “That is my boy. You are no longer quartermaster to give discipline to my crew and so you do not touch him.”
“Teach him to keep his hands from what is not his,” Collins snarled. “Were I still in charge of discipline, he would be taking lashes for assaulting a crewman.”
“You always were a harsh one. That was a prank, not an assault. He meant no harm by it.”
Samir’s expression left Collins doubting that statement. Adlai tugged at his sleeve, urging him to sit down.
“Please. I am not hurt, Master Captain.” Desperate to avert a conflict over himself, Adlai gritted his teeth and stroked Collins’ hand. Collins smiled down at him him, but his face was pure loathing when he turned it back to his rival.
“So then. What would be fair payment for a lock of slave boy’s hair?” Harrison asked. “The dinner tab?” He tossed down the last of his drink.
Collins smirked. A free meal and an expression of Adlai’s feelings for him: it wasn’t going to be a wasted evening after all. “It’s yours.”
Harrison caught him by the coat and drew him up close. “In earlier days, I’d have kissed that look off your face. Or slapped it away. Now I say if you lay hands on my Samir again, it’s your blood.” He deliberately drained Adlai’s untouched beer. “You know, I don’t think I will pay. I think you should cover it all, as payment for your insults.”
“I won’t pay for you.” Collins gave Samir a derisive glare. “Or your Barbary gutter rat.”
Harrison’s sneer was ugly. “And I won’t pay for the drinks for you or your colored catamite.” He leaned across the table. “You can tell me, ‘Thaniel. Is his ass pink, like an ape’s, or black as the rest of him?”
This time Collins hauled the mocking Harrison from the booth and slammed him hard onto the table. Harrison was drunk enough to laugh. He caught the crockery mug before Collins could smash it over his face and shoved Collins off of him.
“Draw then if you’re man enough,” he laughed.
Seeing the distress on the barmaid’s face and the way the other patrons hugged their plates and drinks, Collins straightened his clothes and said, “Outside.”
