The Scourge - Pirates & Privateers

Chapter 3 - Captain's Cabin

One thing Martin had learned in his admittedly limited time at sea was that Caribbean days heated up very quickly; so quickly that within an hour or two of sunrise, the pitch between the boards of the ship would boil. He wasn't sure whether it was true for every ship, but in the sun, the Scourge's hull frothed like a diseased man on his deathbed. Emily boarded with a grimace, and when she peeled her hand from the ladder, Martin saw the oily-black slime seeping into her skin and under her nails. He resisted the urge to chuckle, but couldn't help snorting into his elbow.

When she appeared over the railing following close behind Black Hal, the entire crew, at their work to swab the deck, polish the cannons or repair what they could of the capstan, stopped and stared. At first, Martin thought it was her gentle beauty that captivated them, but when a few made the sign of the cross, and others clutched at their charms for protection, he understood their unease.

The Quartermaster followed the crew's gaze, sparing no more than a charitable glance at Emily before glaring at the Captain. He flicked his head towards the cabin door hidden just below the balcony of the quarterdeck, and Black Hal obeyed.

At a gesture from the Captain, Emily and Martin followed them into the cabin.

'What the Hell do you think you're doing, Henry?' The Quartermaster hissed as soon as the door to the cabin clicked shut. 'Bringing a woman aboard. Are you insane? The crew's morale is low enough as it is! We don't need to drop more bad luck on their heads.'

The Captain sat down at his desk, parked neatly in front of the frosted panes of the stern's bowed windows.

'Pete, just calm down.'

'Calm down?! Calm... down?! I never in all my...?! You might have at least consulted me first. What on Earth will the crew think about all this?! Of all the stupid decisions you've made on this voyage, this is by far-.'

'She's agreed to pay us sixteen thousand to take her to Barbados.' The Captain disinterestedly stabbed the pins of a compass into the desk and twirled them in his hand.

The Quartermaster stood staggered for a moment, opening and closing his mouth like a bass flopped on deck. 'Si-Sixteen thousand what? Pesos? Pieces of eight?'

The Captain peeked at the Quartermaster, then smirked. 'Pounds. Sixteen and a half thousand pounds.'

The Quartermaster put a hand against his head. With his other, he searched for a perch, and Martin obediently got up from his rotting stool and placed it under him. 'Pounds. But... that could make up for everything! Sixteen thousand is more than we've made in two years. Split fifty ways and with enough to account for the damages and settle the ship's upkeep, as well as compensating the injured, that'd more than make up for all our misfortune twice over.' The Quartermaster chuckled in exhilaration, combing his fingers through his hair. His smile soon melted away, though, replaced by the furrowed brow and twisted lip of someone lost in speculation. 'Wait. Wait, just a moment. How do we know she's good for that kind of money?'

'I am here, you know,' Emily snorted.

The Quartermaster ignored her.

'Sixteen thousand isn't a sum just anyone could have lying around. So, what lies in Barbados that it would be worth so much for so simple a journey?'

The Captain threw down the set of compasses, unrolled his legs from the table and sat forward, placing a hand in his pocket.

'It's the little madame's honest word that assures us that she is not just any messenger. She is a courier for Queen Anne herself. And supposedly, the pockets of England are to be emptied at the expense of seeing that this is to be delivered to safe hands.'