Raised By Wolves 1 - Brethren (74 page)

I regarded the envelope with which Striker had unceremoniously presented me. It bore my full name. I opened it and, with Gaston looking over my shoulder, perused the contents. I had been invited for dinner that evening at the Governor’s house in Spanish Town.

“What is this about?” I looked to Striker; his envelope was very similar to mine.

“Modyford’s man brought them,” Striker spat. “I asked of it. You and I are invited. Pete and Gaston are not.”

“So to the Devil with them,” I said.

“It’s for the marque,” Striker growled. “I knew well I would have to receive the damn thing from someone, but I did not think it would be over dinner.”

“So you have to go,” I said. “Why was I invited?”

Theodore rolled his eyes, and Striker awarded me with a look that said if he was forced to dine at the Governor’s house, he was not going alone. I answered my own question by surmising that it was because I was my father’s son, and people of a certain ilk still thought they might curry favor with me.

“I would hope you have not cast all your decent clothing onto a midden heap,” Theodore said.

I shrugged. “Nay, and some might fit Striker with a little tailoring.”

“Oh bloody Hell!” Striker howled. “You expect me to dress for this?”

An hour later, we had found that my shirts and breeches fit him, though a little snugly, and that the tailor had left a generous amount at the seams in one of my jackets. Rachel was busy at letting it out to fit his wider shoulders. Thankfully, we both owned boots and were not forced to make my shoes fit him; nor would I find it necessary to wear hose. We wore kerchiefs over our heads under the hats. An hour beyond that, we stood shaved and somewhat clean in our finery, and bore the amusement of our matelots with little humor. Rachel professed surprise that we could be made to look like gentlemen. Theodore appeared relieved.

Theodore had also been invited, and Pete and Gaston accompanied the three of us to the ferry landing. I kissed Gaston, and he admonished me to behave myself.

“I do not intend to drink beyond reason and dance upon the tables,”

I said.

He rolled his eyes. “Do not argue with anyone in such a manner as to endanger the granting of the marque.”

“Oh,” I said foolishly and grinned, and then teased. “Why would you think I would do such a thing?”

He blinked at me impassively and sighed.

I laughed. He knew me well.

“Do Na’ Be Doin’ A Thing I Would Na’,” Pete told Striker, then apparently thought about it and decided that was not correct.

“Do Na’ Be Doin’ A Thing I Would Do.”

Striker laughed and then sighed with mock consternation and chided our matelots, “A little faith should be in order here.”

“I have great faith in the consistency of Will’s behavior,” Gaston said, without any trace of humor. I was not sure how I should interpret that, so I decided to embark on the ferry and leave well enough alone.

“It’s a deliberate affront,” Striker said for our ears alone once we were under way. “They know we have matelots. It is rude and uncalled for.”

“That may be,” Theodore said gently, and then grinned. “But I believe your matelots are relieved they did not have to accompany you.”

“He may be right,” I told Striker. “But I believe you are correct, and I too take great offense. It is as if they seek to pass judgment on us or mete out their approbation if we behave as they do. What damn right do they have?”

Theodore regarded us with his arms crossed. “Has it occurred to either one of you that it is oftimes customary and perfectly acceptable to invite married men, without their wives, to dinners where business will be discussed?”

I could see his argument; yet, “Pete and Gaston are not wives.”

“Aye, there is not the least wifely thing about either of them,” Striker said thoughtfully, “If anything…” He trailed off abruptly and appeared a trifle embarrassed.

“There is no harm in it,” I said. “If anything, we are the wives.”

“I make no comment on that,” Theodore said. “I believe I meant that you two are the more business-minded of your pairings.”

“I would not say that,” I said. “Gaston is far wealthier than I.”

Theodore threw his hands wide in exasperation. “More socially acceptable perhaps? More likely to have the proper attire? Less likely to kill another guest?”

He continued to harangue us all across the bay until we disembarked at the Passage Fort. By then, I realized he might be correct. This was not necessarily a slight against us for having matelots, but for having the matelots we had.

I was happy to see Diablo and Francis, and I looked forward to at least a pleasant ride for the evening. Theodore rented an animal. Since Francis was ever the calmer of ours, I had him saddled for Striker.

He regarded the patient animal with dismay.

“I have never ridden a horse before,” he said.

“How is that possible?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Any place I have ever needed visit was either in walking distance of the sea or there were no horses. I rode in a cart once….”

Thankfully he was not afraid of the animals, and he was a quick study. I gave him a rudimentary lesson in horsemanship, and he managed to plod along quite well with Theodore. I was then free to give Diablo his head, and we raced ahead of them. Thus I arrived at Spanish Town and the Governor’s house first. With reluctance I handed my mount off to the boy in the yard and dusted myself to enter.

I cursed my luck as I discovered Morgan and Bradley smoking on the veranda. As there was no one else about, I was forced to either acknowledge them or appear rude. Neither looked pleased to see me. I gave them my most congenial smile and inquired as to whom else had arrived, hoping a name I recognized would be among them, so that I could excuse myself. Morgan rattled off the names of a number of Jamaica’s prominent citizens; and I recognized several, but found none I would wish to seek out.

“Where is Striker?” Bradley asked.

“He will be along shortly. He is riding with Theodore, and they are making a slower go of it than I chose to.”

“And why is that?” Morgan asked.

“I enjoy riding a great deal, and I chose to set a faster pace to exercise the animal and my spirits. Thus I arrived here before them. A ride can provide a great deal of satisfaction.”

“I would not know. I have never ridden an animal in leisure,”

Bradley said.

I thought of the possible ways to counter him and chose two that might work in tandem. “I have been truly blessed, and I am thankful fate allowed me to become well acquainted with the art of horsemanship. You may wish to indulge in it. You have land to ride on, and I would guess you could afford the time. You may find that you enjoy it.”

“Aye, I can well afford the time seeing as I have no ship to sail,” he said.I held my tongue as I knew there was naught I could say to appease the man. I was grateful Morgan also seemed taken aback by his friend’s maudlin demeanor.

“So you will be sailing on this prize on the morrow?” Morgan asked briskly.

“Aye, the Mayflower.”

“How many men?”

“We do not know of yet, as they are not all aboard.”

Morgan shrugged. “That is always the way of it. Unless well commanded, the buccaneers tend to be a disorganized rabble. They revel in it.”

“Are you not a buccaneer yourself?” I asked.

He smiled obliquely. “But of course. But I am also a man of vision.

Many of the Brethren live their lives in thrall to the necessities of day-today existence. They do not think of the future, as they possess a Devil-may-care attitude and think they will die tomorrow.”

I did not like the sound of that. “Aye, but most have lived hard lives and been condemned in one fashion or another, and they know not how to consider the future, as a strategic approach to life has been beyond their ken by both instruction and nature.” I did not say, because they are armed sheep as I did not wish to ever have that discussion with these men.

“I am curious,” Morgan said. “Why do you, of all people, champion criminals, escaped slaves, heretics, runaway sailors, and rebels?”

“Because I feel I am one of them on more counts than I care to relate to you.”

He laughed. “I now recall you mentioning a certain amount of traveling in your life.”

“Aye, and I have always been a heretic and a rebel in my thinking. It was oft noted in my childhood.”

Bradley was frowning at me thoughtfully.

“I come from a long line of Welsh military men and farmers,” Morgan said. “I do not harbor rebellious thoughts, only ambitious ones.”

“So how did you come to this life? Did you come here seeking fortune and find an army waiting to be organized?”

“Aye, in a manner of speaking.”

This troubled me greatly. I was convinced he planned to use the buccaneers to achieve his ends, which most likely included a very base lust for fame and fortune. Most of the Brethren would not or could not ever comprehend this, because they did not understand the ways of wolves.

We were thankfully interrupted by the arrival of another captain before I could engage in discourse that could have endangered the voyage, or my future on the island for that matter. I wandered into the garden to wait for Striker and Theodore. They rode up shortly, and I joined them. Striker dismounted and almost fell. He stood stiffly and tested his legs. I knew he would be complaining loudly in the morning, especially as we still had to ride back. I clapped his shoulder heartily.

“Think of it thusly. At least one cannot get seasick upon a horse.”

“The Devil with you,” he muttered. “However does one grow accustomed to this?”

I grinned at him as a number of salacious innuendos lined up to trip off my tongue. I thought better of it, and shrugged.

“It is like most things one learns to adapt to. May we speak a moment before we enter?” Theodore was ahead of us, talking to the other men on the veranda and we were virtually alone in the courtyard.

“As it will take my legs a while to carry me to the others; I think we have a moment,” Striker said.

“What think you of Morgan?”

Striker sighed and grimaced. “I think him a necessary evil.”

“How so?”

“The best booty is to be had raiding, not roving. Raiding any worthwhile city requires several ships full of men. Several ships require coordination and a common leader above the captains. Morgan was Mansfield’s pupil on the matter, and Mansfield was a good leader.

Myngs was better, and Mansfield studied him. Morgan is competent.

He’ll do his job and provide a rallying point. Most of the men like him, and he has befriended the captains, or at least his friends are captains.”

He shrugged. “What think you?”

“I find him arrogant, irksome, and dislikeable. He is not a buccaneer.”

“Now you are starting to sound like your matelot.”

I rolled my eyes. “Nay. According to my matelot, I was not a buccaneer until I participated in the making of boucan. I care not whether Morgan has made boucan, I care that he holds himself above the buccaneers, yet he claims he is one of them in order to lead them. It is hypocrisy and I do not tolerate it well.”

“Liam and Otter say he was a bondsman on Barbados, and he joined up with Penn and Venables to take Jamaica here, just as Liam and Otter did. His uncles or cousins or whatnot were military men with Penn and Venables, and they gave him a helping hand.”

“Truly? Then why in God’s name will he not say that? I would think he would use that as a political tool.”

“He has, on occasion. Many of the men believe he’s just like them, only risen through the ranks. And he is clever enough for this to be the case.”

“I am confused,” I sighed. “If that is true, then I find most of my arguments against him quite hollowed. Though I still feel he intends to use the buccaneers to his own advantage. This does not make him any different from any other leader in history, yet it vexes me.”

“Has Pete told you that you think entirely too much?” Striker asked.

“Nay, he has told me a number of things, but that one he has not said to my face.”

“Will, do not take it poorly. According to Pete, every man spends too much time in thought. In your case, I feel he may be correct.”

“In truth, I happen to agree with him. And I will admit it often causes me nothing but grief.”

We made our way inside, and Bradley and Morgan were exceedingly complimentary on Striker’s attire. He was gracious about accepting their praise, but obviously not pleased with the reason. I think this was evident even to them.

Morgan finally quipped, “So are we to understand that you will not wardrobe yourself with the booty from this voyage?”

“Aye, nor shall I take up planting or seek a wife,” Striker said.

Morgan shrugged with amusement, but Bradley withdrew from us; and Striker was quite obviously suffused with regret. He followed Bradley and talked to him in private.

I let them be, and wandered farther into the parlor. I spied Theodore talking to a portly older man. I quickly lost interest, as my gaze was captured by the fetching creature standing beside them.

She was a girl, and young by the looks of it, but no child. Venus had smiled on her in a fashion I have always adored. She was not tall per se, though she had good height for a woman, with a willowy body lacking in unnecessary, from my preference, roundness at bust and hip. Her face was comely, with a pert nose and chin gracing strong cheeks and jaw. Her eyes were large and blue, and peered from beneath wisps of golden hair escaping an elegantly coiled pile atop her head. And, more interesting, she was awarding me a come-hither look that would have brought a boy her own age to his knees.

Bemused, I crossed the room to join them. Theodore quickly introduced me to a Sir Christopher Vines, and his daughter, Miss Christine Vines. I was quite relieved she was his daughter and not his wife, though I had seen worse pairings. Vines seemed delighted to make the acquaintance of an Earl’s son, and apologized for being unable to attend my welcoming party.

“And I have not had the opportunity to make your acquaintance since. We all must come in from our plantations on occasion,” Vines teased. “Or do you have a thing there to keep you occupied, a wife perhaps?” He was in earnest.