Half-hour Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

Mr and Miss Smith

1728, Port Royal, Jamaica

Edith sits on the wooden dock, her feet dangling off the edge. Above her head, the sun shines brightly and around her, the clicks of the cicadas signal that it is yet another very hot day in the city of Port Royal.

As if I wasn't able to tell without them... Edith thinks to herself as she turns in the direction of the ocean breeze and wipes some of the sweat and humidity from her forehead. Of course the cooling air isn't the only thing drawing her that way. Having lived in Port Royal since she can remember, Edith has always dreamt of sailing aboard one of the magnificent tall ships she has watched dock and sail away all but every day for the past 22 years.

Currently however, she finds herself otherwise immensely entertained by two guards standing watch a few metres below her on the part of the dock leading to the 'HMS Interceptor', the fastest English ship in these waters.

"Mate, just shut up already."

"I will not. Listen to me Mullroy...-"

"Bloody hell Murtogg, what'd you think I've been doing for the past 2 hours?"

"It must be the uniform. It's intimidating!"

"Intimidating?"

"Yes. It's too...red"

"Mate, you couldn't look intimidating if I sat a rotten skeleton on your shoulders."

"Right...well what is it then, huh? If you're so clever. Because I see no reason why she wouldn't just go with me..."

It may have something to do with the fact that you hardly react to light, mate. Thought Edith as she chuckled quietly under her breath, shaking her head at the show unfolding below her.

Murtogg and Mullroy were an entirely new but most fortunate discovery for her. Having been wandering around the harbour for some hours prior to finding them bickering in front of the Interceptor, Edith had been desperate for something to do. Something fun. After wandering down the familiar streets and docks, enjoying the uncharacteristically scarce presence of royal guards, she spotted two underneath one of the wooden docks stretching out above the water. She sat down on the platform above them to listen in on their seemingly heated debate. Soon, she realised its subject; Murtogg, one of them, apparently knew some local lass, who he found very much desirable and had been trying to court for an embarrassingly long period of time now, without any measure of success. Clearly, he has no notion why this could be. Edith had initially wondered as well, everyone knew that women like men in uniforms, not to mention that getting in a guard's good graces would undoubtedly be of benefit. Soon however, it became clear that the poor fellow probably couldn't pour piss out of a boot with the instructions on the heel.

Edith had the unusual extra time on her hands because her usual waitressing job at the Sailor's Maiden, a local pub down in the more unscrupulous parts of Port Royal, was cut short for the day. All that her boss, Pete Acker, told her about it was that there was some 'fancy gathering' up at the fort. Probably a promotion or something, Edith gathered. When events like that happened, the Governor always got his knickers in a twist over not wanting to risk exposing his posh guests to the less lavish parts of Port Royal.

God forbid they see that there is someone other than Lords, Sirs and Missues with sticks up their posteriors around here. Edith shook her head.

Over the years, she had learned to take the divide between the two local 'sectors' with a degree of humour and acceptance. Only a fool would look past the reality of the situation; most of her peers indeed were insufferable, rowdy, ill-mannered, and criminal. Still, at least some of them knew how to have a good time, and occasionally, you would run into someone who wouldn't sell you out in a heartbeat for a bottle of cheap rum. Very occasionally. Still, she understood why the higher fellows weren't too eager to associate with the lower ones, not that it made her any more fond of them. At least Murtogg and Mullroy here seemed to have some personality, most of the others were just boring hypocrites with fancy boots.