The Scourge - Pirates & Privateers

Chapter 6: In the Golden Fleece

Martin was glad to finally get away from the table, even if it was only to fetch the next round of grog. In the presence of the six high-ranking sailors, all talking about their adventures and laughing away their mishaps, he'd never felt more exposed. All of them seemed like giants to him, so confident and self-assured, and though he tried his best to keep out of their eyeline by shrinking into his seat, this did little to dissuade their judgemental gazes at the young man who dared to sit at the captain's table without an adventure of his own to relate to them. That, along with Emily's hard glares at him every time they caught each other's eye, was enough to squeeze the air from his lungs. If anything, it was nice to breathe for a while, even if he was sent away with a tankard hurled at his head. At this point, Leddhart was too drunk to speak, so Martin assumed that was his way of asking for more.

As the barmaid loaded the tray with tankards and stared intently at the Captain's silver coin clutched between Martin's knuckles, a cool breeze slipped in through a crack in the door and nipped at Martin's ankle. Evening had arrived. Had they really been here for that long? Martin wasn't surprised. To him, it had felt like years instead of hours. The waitress thunked down the last of the tankards, then stretched out her hand without a word. Martin dropped the silver coin into her palm and she nodded.

'You don't want change?'

'No, keep it,' Martin said begrudgingly. The barmaid grinned and slipped the coin into her apron.

Martin sighed, bracing himself to dive back in, grabbing the tray of drinks.

'Pardon me, young man?' Martin started at the strange voice in his ear, then cursed at himself when he felt the grog sway in their cups and threaten to topple over. He dropped the tray back down and spun around. A man in a slope-brimmed hat with a gold and blue parrot's feather in its silk band was leaning against the bar, his legs coiled around each other as he bounced the heel of his boot on the toe of the other. He tilted his head up, unveiling the leathery, nut-brown face hidden beneath a shadow. A grin parted his lips, and a gold tooth glinted in the firelight. 'My apologies,' he spoke with a strange accent that Martin was sure was familiar, but he couldn't place it. It was European, certainly, but where? 'I did not mean to startle you.'

'I-It's alright...' Martin stammered, then cleared his throat and took a breath. 'Sorry, sir. Did you want to get to the bar?'

'No, no,' the man grinned again. 'I was actually hoping to talk to you.'

'You were?' Martin cocked his head.

'You are with those sailors over there, are you not?' The man tipped his hat in the direction of the table. Martin followed his gaze. Captain Leddhart was trying to get at the last drop of grog from his empty tankard, which earned him a bed on the floor when the chair suddenly slipped out from under him. The table exploded with laughter; even Emily allowed herself a soft giggle behind her hand.

'Yes, I am,' Martin nodded, then paused. 'Why... do you want to know? Do you know them?'

'No, not all of them,' the man kept staring at the table as the captain to the right of Leddhart kicked him in the shoulder and laughed at the burp it produced. 'But I am very interested in knowing who the girl is.'

At this, Martin's heart leapt. Why would he want to know about Emily? Then he blushed. He can't have been the only one who'd noticed her, but somehow this wasn't the same. The way he asked, the way he drew out each word, it wasn't the way someone spoke when they were curious. In some way, it reminded Martin of the groaning a beartrap makes when a hunter prizes it open.

'I'm sure you are, sir. She's a very interesting person.'

'I'm sure she is.' The man grinned so widely that the corners of his mouth almost touched his eyes. 'What is her name?'