Sea Of Treason, Pirate's Bluff #1

River Pirates

***I improvised a little on this scene, some things I'll have to edit the Mr. Robinson scene for. Just go with it, please;) ***

I try to ignore the dagger in my heart as I lead Bluff to the most eastern bank of Manhattan, where rocks slide into a dark Hudson River, waves shifting quietly. The area is still this time of night, just the soft rush of the waves pushing against the piles of stone on the bank. The only light visible form here is a light house far in the distance, and a few lanterns deep in the waters.

The sun will be rising in a few hours, which makes this a great time to be here. No better time to commandeer a ship than at just before sunrise-- at least if the few pirate novels I've read have any truth to them.

"Well?" Bluff asks as we stand there for a few moments with no sign of life anywhere nearby.

I take a few more steps until I'm standing just over a sewer grate. Sudden shuffling below assures me my hunch was right—they're here, just hiding.

I lean down to the grare. It's too dark to see anything but little noises sound from below. A whisper, followed by a sudden hush, a shift and a grunt, the skattering of pebbles.

"Hello," I say.

Bluff joins me, leaving down over the sewer entrance. "Hey lads, know where we can barter for a ship? We have some business."

"What kind of business?" A little voice calls up at us.

"Hush!" another voice reprimands.

"What?" the little voice yelps. "I want to eat today, okay?"

"Yeah, well, you want to be locked up to do it? You see that lady's dress? She ain't here for no business."

"But we are!" I call.

"We're on the run," Bluff jumps in. "We have some bad men after us, and we need to reach our friends in the harbor but we'll need a ship to do it. We heard you could help."

More scuffling from beneath the crate. I find myself wondering how many kids are down there, and how badly they smell. I wrinkle my nose.

"Yeah, right. I can tell an eloping couple from a true runway any day."

Bluff jerks his head back, gripping the bars the sewer like he'll break them on accident. "I wouldn't touch this lass with a ten foot pole," he spits.

I hold back a scoff at that. If they need to believe there is nothing between us to help, I need to not give away my feelings. Though his words feel like acid in my veins.

"She's too pretty. No way she's a runaway." An older voice says, eyes peaking up closer than the others.

"Doesn't even have any bruises!" a high pitch voice calls.

I hold out my arm to them, to show the finger marks Mr. Robinson left. "I've got a nice bump on my head as well," I say. That one is from Bluff and our rather unconventional scheme to escape mob detection, but they don't need to know that.

Bluff's eyes linger on the dark spot in my forearm. Guess he hadn't noticed that yet.

"That don't prove nothin'"

"Who told you about us anyway? You bring her here, bloke? Who do you know?"

Bluff's eyes meet mine.

"Charlie," I squeal out.

"There are twelve Charlie's down here, miss. Don't mean nothing."

"Don't call her miss, she didn't do nothing to deserve your respect."