Here there be pirates

Chapter 6

A/N: This is /long/. But I'm still working phew... Hope you all like this.

Chapter 6

Alfred had never been to what was known as a pirate’s port. There were a few dotted on islands across the seas and this was one of many places where rum and supplies were cheap and fights broke out at nothing. And women were plentiful, if that was what you fancied, not that many of Arthur’s odd jumble of a crew glanced twice at the leering faces, looking for a man’s company. Well, Alistair did but he was quickly pulled away by Will with a shake of his head. Arthur appeared at his side, frowning at the chaos.

“Stay close, Alfred. Tell your brother to stick to Francis.” Immediately, the American nodded, a little lost in this situation so he merely turned to Matthew and relayed Arthur’s message before returning to the Captain’s side. The Englishman surveyed his crew then spoke,

“Roderich, Gilbert, we need supplies. Take Feliciano and Ludwig with you. Will, Finnigan, Alistair, make sure the ship is repaired and equipped to get us to the Mediterranean. Francis, negotiate ourselves some maps and you know. Take Matthew and don’t let him out of your sight. I have a contact to see. We will all meet back here by sunrise. Find your own lodgings or stay in the ship. Off you go.” Alfred watched as the crew split into their teams and disappeared into the port. Staying close to Arthur, he navigated his way through the heaving crowd. The Englishman walked with purpose, keeping a firm grip on Alfred’s hand so as not to lose him. After a while of ducking and weaving, the two made it to a small dark, back alley tavern and Arthur pulled his Captain’s hat low over his head.

“Keep your head down, don’t say anything, don’t draw attention to yourself,” the Englishman muttered as he pushed open the door, leading Alfred inside. It was dingy, with a few chairs and tables. There were only four or five people in there, including the brute of a barman. Without hesitation, Arthur walked to the bar and asked in a low voice,

“Is he in?”

“Depends.”

“Tell him the Englishman’s here. Lucy’s leader.” The brute seemed happy with the answer and waved the two through a curtain into the back. Nervously, Alfred followed the Captain through the curtain into a little back room where there sat a man wearing an odd hat, face mask and veil. The attire was so odd that Alfred nearly stared… until he noticed the two ominous looking guard-like men behind him. He gulped. Arthur sat before the masked man and tilted his hat back.

“Englishman. It’s-a been a while,” he purred. His accent was thick and lightly sing-song, mangling the vowels.

“Yes. I need to know if they have increased patrols by Spain. I know you know.”

“I do a-know, but the question is-a… Who is this-a beautiful boy you have? I would-a have him for my own.” Ice filled Alfred’s veins when he realised that the man was talking about him. Arthur barely batted an eyelid.

“A boy I picked up here. Thought he would make an interesting boot-licker.” The masked man snorted a laugh and returned his attention to the Captain.

“You always had an odd taste, Englishman. Patrols… around-a Spain? Doubled, I say-a. Looking for the dreimal gebissen Kapitan, no doubt-a.” Arthur rolled his eyes.

“They’ll never find him. Only pirates find pirates.” Alfred’s stomach was still turning backflips as the guards not so subtly eyed him up. Besides, this was not the Arthur he knew. This wasn’t the Captain with the stories and the laughing eyes and the soft lips behind the gentlemanly demeanour. This was the pirate, calm, cold and acidic as the green of his eyes.

“I know-a, Englishman. But all the same, patrols are worse-a. Be careful.”

“Thank you.” Arthur carelessly tossed over a jingling pouch but the masked man looked up to Alfred again, turning his stomach to knots.

“Keep it. For the night-a with your boot-licker.” The Captain laughed, cold and mirthless, causing the American to shiver, fear painted across his face.

“Get your own.” There was no hint of protectiveness in his voice as he stood, leaving the purse and moved away. “Pleasure, as always.”

“Mmm. Thank-a you, Englishman.” Alfred hurried after Arthur as the Englishman left and disappeared out of the tavern. As soon as they were outside, his arms were tight around the American’s waist.

“I’m sorry you saw that. I needed the information and Sadiq is always reliable, even if he is… unsavoury. I’m so sorry, Alfred.” Arthur’s voice was soft again, in his ear, whispering and gentle. Slowly, the younger pirate relaxed into his hold, shivering.

“I-It’s okay. I just… I had never seen you like that.”

“And you shan’t again. Come along now, we need to move from here.” And with that, they were off again, ducking and weaving through the crowd.

Soon enough, they reached a much nicer tavern and Arthur led him inside, sighing heavily. But the sight that met them was far from nice. Roderich, Ludwig and Feliciano stood in the centre of the place, surrounded by overturned tables and chairs, weapons drawn. Gilbert was unconscious on the floor behind them and facing them towered two men, one holding an axe, the other a doubled headed spear. Roderich’s eyes were as hard as stone, his rapier flashing as he growled,

“Back off. Now.” Ludwig stood very still and very close to Feliciano and scowled, every muscle in his body tense, like a tiger ready to spring, as the Italian gripped his pistol with steady hands. Arthur fought through the growing crowd, gripping the hilt of his broadsword in its scabbard. He stopped in front of them and Alfred could see Roderich visibly relax.

“Kapitan…”

“Take Gilbert back to the ship, Alfred, go with him. Now.” Arthur’s tone left no room for argument and Alfred leapt to obey. He helped Roderich pick up the unconscious Prussian.

“Felici, go with them, bitte,” murmured Ludwig, not taking his eyes off the men opposite. After a moment’s hesitation, the Italian scampered after them. Roderich carried Gilbert out, back towards the docks.

“Will they be okay?” worried Alfred.

“Arthur knows what he is doing and Ludwig is one of the fastest broadsword fighters around. They’ll be fine. We need to get Gilbert to Finnigan and make sure they are safe.” Roderich’s voice was a level as ever, cool and collected but Alfred saw the nervous fear in the old pirates eyes every time he looked at Gilbert. They reached the ‘Valiant Lucy’ quickly, where Finnigan stood, helping Will transfer a piece of wood to repair the hull.

“Finnigan!” called Roderich and the Irishman turned, jumping at the sight of Gilbert.

“What happened?” growled the Welshman, dropping the wood to go help them.

“Someone took offence to him. Hit him over the back of the head with a chair… he… he, uh… he didn’t get back up.” Roderich’s voice trailed off as Will carried Gilbert inside and Feliciano hugged him tightly. After Will laid Gilbert down in the little medical room, Finnigan moved to check his head, his pulse and his eyes, frowning. Roderich, stood in the doorway, was completely tense.

“He’ll live but he’ll be dizzy and weak for a week, maybe more. Roderich-”

“I’ll look after him. Feliciano, can you cook?”

“Of course, Roderich, ve. Stay with him.”

“Come on, Alfie, we should get back to the Cap’n,” the Welshman said gruffly, pulling the American away and heading back into the port. “Which tavern are they in?”

“Uh, this way…” Alfred couldn’t remember what it was called but he knew the way. They ran. But by the time they reached the tavern, Arthur and Ludwig had emerged, blood spattered. Alfred nearly fainted in fright, that they had been hurt but Arthur spotted him and hurried over.

“Are you okay?!” squeaked the American and the Captain nodded.

“Let’s get back to the ship. Will, go find Francis and Matthew. You know where he’ll be.” With a nod, the Captain’s older brother ran off and Arthur turned back to the young pirate. “Come on Alfie. Ludwig, let’s go.” They hurried back to the ship for the night; Alfred had had quite enough adventure for one day.