Raised By Wolves 1 - Brethren (78 page)

He was, of course, correct. “How are you so wise on the subject?”

“Every man who has ever written has wrestled with it. I have a read a lot,” he grinned.

I sighed in capitulation. “I feel as if we are playing chess again, and you have me in check, and I do not know if I should continue to move, as it will not gain me anything but wasted time.”

Gaston smiled. “If I had known we were to play chess over the matter, I would have enlisted Pete’s aid. What do you think he would say?”

“That I think too much and do not know what is important.” I chuckled and rolled onto my back with a sigh. “He would be correct.”

“He is after all a God walking amongst us. You should heed him.”

“I should? You would do well to heed his advice yourself.”

He climbed atop me. “I will never be jealous of the Brisket again,” he said seriously. “I swear it. And I will never question your love again.”

I caressed his face and thought, so say you now, and realized that was exactly what he must have thought last night after my pronouncements. I smiled and pulled him tighter against me. My manhood was still awake and wondering what all the fuss was about.

“Prove it,” I whispered and kissed Gaston again. His hand went to my groin and he kissed me.

I surrendered to his ministrations. My heart was not joyous; it was still a timid thing, sure there was something lurking in the shadows of my mind just waiting to pounce. Perhaps it was correct. At the moment, I chose not to submit to the doubt. There was time enough to poke about with sticks and scare the fears into the light. I need not do it now.

We spent a few days sailing northwest, across pleasant reaching winds to the Caymans. It was a shame they had no Spanish cattle or hogs, as they would have been an ideal place to provision. They lay close to the path of the Galleons and the single ships as they came up from the Terra Firma. We found a likely beach, on the leeward shore of the larger of the two small islands, and set about careening.

As we did not have boucan to make, my matelot and I were involved as much as the others in the hard labor of emptying the ship, hauling her onto the sand, and tipping her over. That was, until fingers were crushed, and men were cut by ropes, and joints were wrenched, and Gaston was called to mend them. As I was hale and healthy, I did not feel as useless as I had at the beginning of the first voyage. Still, it was with relief that I took a break and sprawled in the surf after we had her ashore. Belfry and Dickey joined me, and I could not help but chuckle at their appearance, as I had every time I had seen them for the past several days.

“I wish you would not do that,” Dickey said.

“It suits you,” I said.

“Nay, it suits you,” he countered. “Your clothing has color. Liam said it was odd for a buccaneer to wear clothing of color and insisted we buy this ecru attire.”

“I would have done the same if not for Gaston. I believe he wished for black clothing, and this deep wine is the best we can achieve.”

At mention of Gaston, Dickey glanced to the place where my matelot was working on yet another injured man by the longboat. Then Dickey exchanged a look with Belfry, and I despaired that I would have the same argument with them that I had engaged in with Fletcher on the plantation.

“What is it?” I asked.

Belfry cleared his throat and studied the waves for a moment.

“Well, it is just that we have heard some talk and… May we ask you a question, or rather inquire as to something?”

“I do not guarantee an answer, but you may ask.”

“Well.” He coughed again. “Several of the men maintain that your matelot is stark raving mad.”

“Oh, that,” I sighed, and looked up the beach to Gaston again. “He is, at times.”

“Truly?” Belfry asked. “He seems reasonable enough, if a trifle reserved, when I have been around him.”

“Michaels says he is possessed,” Dickey blurted. “That he trifles with the dead and talks in tongues, and that he tried to kill you and you had to strike him to defend yourself.”

“I used to like Michaels,” I said flatly. They looked uncomfortable.

“Do you two believe that gibberish?”

“Some of the other men have said that he used the bodies on the galleon to summon the storm that wrecked her with some kind of witchcraft,” Belfry whispered.

I swore vehemently, and a chill gripped my spine. I sat and moved to face both of them. “Once again I ask; do you believe that utter nonsense?”

They regarded me in silence and shook their heads, but there was not much conviction in it.

“I do not believe it may be the case with your friend,” Belfry said,

“but I do believe that sometimes men are possessed, and I have heard of indisputable cases of witchcraft.” He sighed.

“Gaston is mad,” I said. “He is ill. He is not possessed. An awful thing occurred to him when he was young, and it scarred his mind so that occasionally he loses himself to reverie and is not able to control his emotions and reactions in the way a sane man would.” That was not the whole of it, but it was the easiest. “He does not speak in tongues, though he does speak many languages. On the galleon, he was speaking French. Aye, he attempted to pull a knife on me. Aye, I struck him to get him quiet. Pete already had hold of him, and he was not going to hurt anyone. As for the bodies, I do not know why he did what he did, but we had spoken with both of those men prior to their deaths and I believe Gaston was…” I shook my head as this was truly the part I did not understand. “He arranged them into the Pieta, you know, Mary and Jesus. I feel he was trying to honor them in some fashion. There was no evil about it. I think he may have felt profound guilt over their deaths.”

I wanted to explain that there had been blood and carnage everywhere, and that it was difficult for me to even comprehend the amount of it. And if anything was summoned on that day, it was God’s wrath that so many should die for gold. I held my tongue, as I did not think it prudent to add any divinity to the argument at hand.

They both nodded thoughtfully, as if my explanation had satisfied them. They were educated men, though, and most of the crew were not.

I wondered if this was the type of thing that had driven Gaston from boat to boat. Not the madness in and of itself, but this superstitious misunderstanding of it. I knew with this traveling about the deck, he would now be blamed for the first sign of trouble.

I was relieved to find our wolves with the Bard and Cudro. That put all of them in one basket for me to deal with. I quickly related what I had heard. Striker swore a good deal, Pete looked confused, the Bard looked tired, and Cudro became angry.

“Damned pack of dogs,” Cudro growled. “You only have to look at his hide to know he is mad and there is nothing more to it. This business is not coming from anyone that knew of him from Tortuga. They know better.”

I glared at him. I could not believe he would do what he did and then take Gaston’s side.

“What?” he bellowed. “What the Devil are you angry with me for?”

“I cannot forgive as easily as…”

“Hold, hold,” Striker said and stepped between us.

Cudro regarded me around him and sighed. “All right, then, I admit it. What I did to him then was wrong. I was damn mad, though, and I was…hurt, in all truth. Still, it was wrong. But if he’s settled with it, why are you still riled? You were not even there.”

“He is my matelot, and the mere thought of someone harming him drives me to distraction.”

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “He is lucky to have you, then, and that has been obvious all along. I mean him no ill will, and a matter such as this causes no end of trouble.”

“I hate to alarm anyone, but I have seen men hanged and marooned over nonsense such as this,” the Bard said. “We need to kill it now.”

“I have heard many a complaint about him from the French, mainly that he cannot be trusted because he is mad; but I have never heard charges of witchcraft,” Striker said.

“As I said, any man who has heard of him on Tortuga knows some of his story; they know he’s mad,” Cudro said. “We have seen him move bodies around; that’s why he has been called the Ghoul.”

“So what brought this on now?” I asked.

“We lost a great many men and a great deal of gold, and that serious a storm was out of season,” the Bard said. “They are looking to blame someone.”

I could understand it, from that perspective. I was not accepting of it in the least, but I could see confused and stupid men searching for someone to blame. “They do not know Gaston, and they have heard strange things about him, so he makes a likely target. Ironically, if they should call anyone witch, it should be Michaels, as he is the one with the ungents and potions he learned from gypsies.”

Cudro nodded thoughtfully. “That may be useful.”

“If it comes to a fight,” the Bard sighed, “not all of us are able, no matter how willing.” He indicated his wounded shoulder; and I realized he was correct. A third of our cabal, such as it was, had not recovered from their last voyage.

Striker was looking about. “Where the Devil did Pete get off to?” We all looked about, and spied him near Gaston. “Good, he’s ahead of us as usual. You should guard your matelot, too. The last thing we need is for him to do anything odd.”

“He should avoid Latin,” the Bard added.

“Aye, as we all know that is a sure sign of witchcraft,” I said derisively.

The Bard laughed. “He should avoid Shakespeare.”

I had to chuckle. “And mythology, and the naming of angels or herbs, and of course speaking in tongues is not allowed.”

“Whatever you do, do not allow him around a dead body,” Cudro said, and then he sobered. “And if you do not know it already, do not allow him to see or hear anything resembling a whip.”

“I already know about that. Tell me, Cudro, did he tell you of that or..?”

He shook his head. “I discovered it on my own.”

“What is this matter with whips?” Striker asked.

“Have you ever seen him without his clothing?” I asked. The Bard and Striker shook their heads. I thought it best to tell them. “He was flogged near to death. He bears heavy scars.”

Striker was surprised. “That is what people have spoken of, then. I understand now.” He regarded me soberly. “Take care of your matelot.

Do not start arguing with everyone. We will see what can be done.”

I went to join Gaston. He had finished with the last injury and was boiling his tools. He regarded me curiously, and then flicked his gaze to Pete, who was hovering nearby. “What is the matter?”

“You have been accused of witchcraft.”

He was stunned for a moment, and then he rolled his eyes; and then he sat down heavily. “That would explain why two men refused to allow me to treat them. This is new.”

I waved Pete over to join us, and then I told Gaston of all that I had heard and my discussion with the others.

“Will, it would be best if they returned us to Jamaica,” Gaston said.

“It might be better if they left on the big island to the south and picked us up later.”

“Bah,” Pete said. “We Need Ya. We Don’tBe Needin’ Them That Are Causin

’ Trouble.”

“What if it is most of the crew?” Gaston asked.

He grinned. “Less Men When It’sDone. Will Be Harder To Take A Prize.”

That night, as the ship was lying on her side, we all made ready to sleep on the beach. A cookfire was lit, down low between dunes so as not to signal our presence for miles in the black of night. Watches were set and a keg of beer was opened. The three of us gathered our possessions and Striker’s, and a bottle of rum, and retired to the top of one of the dunes, so that we could look down upon the camp and also see out and about us.

I was taut with anxiety, as the tension had been gathering about the crew all evening. I had begun to think it might be best if we just slipped away into the night. When men were wont to be unreasonable over intangible concepts such as superstition or religion, they became more dangerous than if they were starving or filled with greed. You could feed a starving man or avert avarice for a time with gold; but you could do nothing to sate the needs of a man running to or from matters of the spirit, as it was all in his head and heart, and both oftimes bore poor witness to reality.

Pete appeared as tense as I. He sat with his musket across his lap, and his eyes constantly swept the camp. I knew he could tell where Striker was within a meter, and would have shot any man near his matelot who meant Striker harm. The first man to rush us from the camp would die. So would the next fifteen or so, if we were lucky.

Thankfully, the camp was divided, and if we were rushed the bastards would be taken down from behind.

Still, I was afraid of someone sneaking up on us from beyond the dune; and I kept my eyes on the shadows, and rarely looked to the fire so as not to blind myself to the dark.

Gaston worried me. He had slid into a state of melancholy since I told him of the accusation, and now he presented the demeanor of a condemned man. He sat without weapon in hand and stared toward the surf. I rubbed his back or shoulder on occasion, and he did not shrug me off, but he did not respond either.

I started at a sound behind me and turned to find Liam and Otter joining us, albeit slowly due to Otter’s injured leg. Liam looked us over before sitting in the sand with his musket ready across his lap and his eyes on the camp. Otter sat next to him, but his eyes were toward the night around us, as mine had been.

“There be trouble, but I reckon ya’ know o’ it,” Liam said after he was situated.

“Aye, but please tell us what you have heard,” I said, and reached behind me to pass him the bottle.

“There be a number o’ stupid buggers thinkin’ that Gaston is practicin’ witchcraft. And then there be another group o’ right bastards who be thinkin’ Michaels is. There be men sayin’ that Gaston poisoned Cleghorn. There be men sayin’ Michaels named Gaston a witch ta hide his own evildoin’.”

“What do you think?” I asked, with more amusement than I felt. As angry as I was at Michaels, I did not want him hung for things he did not do, either.

Liam made a derisive noise. “We be thinkin’ the only prize this voyage may yield is gettin’ home in one piece, as there may be deaths o’er this. We should keep ar’ powder dry and ar’ pistols in reach an’ set ar’ own watches.”