Pirate's Ransom

Chapter 11

*** Note: There is some strong language at the bottom so if you get offended at the f-bomb...perhaps you shouldn't read.

The taverns were loud with boisterous laughter and the phony giggles of wenches. Jonathan would have never come to such a low, degrading place if he hadn’t the strong need. Frankly, his life was in the balance and though he might lose face here, in the slums, he would at least still have a face later on.

The damp air from the recent storm made his clothing stick to him. He’d worn some of his best attire so as to make it clear to the pirates that they had the money to pay them for their services. The looks he was given made it clear to him that he stood out like a peacock in a pen of chickens. Despite the glares of jealous folk, he’d made sure that he carried nothing of value on his person despite a pouch of coin in his shirt, so as not to have anything terribly dire that anyone could steal.

There were numerous ships anchored past the docks. Some of them had to be pirates. They tended not to fly their flag and anchor at ports unless they planned on ransacking the place. Their specific port was a good place to gather food, ale, and prostitutes. The seedy characters had all seemed to make friends with one another, much to his consternation. There had only been one pirate attack at the port in his lifetime and he’d been but a child.

His boots stuck in the mud of the non-cobbelstoned walkway. The sucking sound made him frown as the much threatened to take his boot clear off. One collective roar of laughter caught his attention and he turned, heading into the Bilge Rat. He scowled at the name, but it was clear that the bar catered to sailors.

Upon entering, his nose was assaulted with scents of stew, bread, ale, sweat, and vomit. Yes, there were certainly going to be pirates in the Bilge Rat. The place quieted a bit as he entered, eyes tracking his movements as he looked around. Jonathan puffed out his chest a bit to appear larger, though he wasn’t a small man, he was not as large as the men in the tavern.

It was easy enough to spot the sailors. Their faces, arms, and chests were tanned dark and was in stark contrast to those who didn’t work on the sea. Even the farmhands that came to the tavern had a lighter shade to their skin. Perhaps the reflection of the sun off the ocean accounted for that difference.

Jonathan’s hand tightened at the sword on his hip. He didn’t want to use it, in fact he was quite poor when it came to his fencing lessons as a lad. He’d preferred spending time with the maids, whether they wanted him or not, and had missed many of his lessons. He made eye contact with one of the men. Yes, he would do.

The large man stared at him, narrowing his eyes a bit as he leaned back into a table. The table was full of men like him, some with missing eyes, some with missing fingers, and some with missing limbs. That wasn’t the only thing to give them away. No. Their clothing screamed seafarer. Tight black trousers, with knee high boots and a tucked in tight shirt that billowed in the front told him all he needed to know. He’d heard that pirates tended to wear such tight clothing in order to keep from getting it snagged on rigging.

Slowly he made his way to the man, checking for any signs that he might threaten him or harm him in anyway. Much of Jonathan’s and was covered in black bruises and he’d spent over an hour slowly working a glove over it to keep from showing the weakness. It had hurt nearly as much as when he’d gotten them snapped. Lord, the sickening snap sounded in his head even as he thought it.

“I am looking for a Pirate Captain.”

The man before him straightened, putting his height at over a foot taller than Jonathan. Worry clenched low in his gut and seized his chest.

“What ye be lookin’ fer one a those fer?”

“I…” Jonathan looked around at all the gazes. He didn’t need everyone in the tavern hearing this business.

“Git back to what ye were doin’!” The pirate snapped after seeing Jonathan’s gaze stray.

The sounds of the tavern picked up as everyone moved about again. Yeah, this man commanded attention and looked battle hardened. A long scar bisected his face, rendering one brown eye useless, but he made no attempt to cover it with an eye patch. Jonathan forced himself to look him in the eye though. Any sign of weakness could get him into trouble.

“I need to hire a crew for a mercenary mission. I demand to speak with your captain.”

“Ya are speakin’ wiv ‘im.” A drunk pirate hiccuped, next to the one he was talking with.

The man with the bisected eye backhanded the other pirate, causing a riotous, jovial laughter around the table.

“And why would any pirate help the likes a you?” He sneered and folded his massive arms across his chest.

“Because there is a lot of gold in it for you and your men.”

“Whaddya want done?”

Jonathan shifted around, not wanting anyone else to hear, for fear that someone would attempt to take on the mission themselves and ransom Isabella off again. Leaning forward he said low, “My betrothed, the Lord’s daughter, has been taken by The Death Bringer. Captain Arus. We need someone to procure her from his clutches and bring back both she and the captain alive.”

“And?”

“And you…”

“Captain Eagle,” he filled in.

“Yeah! Eye like a hawk, he has!” The pirate who had been backhanded shouted again. The man had blood trickling from his lip, but didn't seem to mind or care.

 Uh, you, Captain Eagle, and your men will be on a salary for bringing her back. You will get…” he thought for a moment, “double that if you bring them both back. You can keep their ship as well, and all the possessions aboard once Isabella and The Death Bringer are removed.” He hoped her father would agree to these terms if the pirate agreed, otherwise his balls were in a vice.

The ship alone was a great prize for pirates. They were always looking for a ship to steal, especially one better than what they had. Perhaps they would find that with Captain Arus's. 

The pirate lifted his hand and touched the lapel of Jonathan’s jacket, fingering the emerald green fabric. “Captain Arus, you say…Yeah, I got a bone to pick with that one.”

Jonathan released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Relief flooded through him. This might work!

"And...how do we know ye can pay?"

Jonathan shifted from foot to foot. Damn it. He reached into his shirt and lifted out the heavy pouch of coin. She better be fucking worth this. "There is more where this came from." With an ounce of flair, he dropped the pouch on the table with a loud clank

“Ah…what the hell. Whaddya say boys? Wanna go on a chase?”

The men were stone silent a minute, before one began to bang on the table with his mug, sloshing beer all over. Then another joined the rhythm and soon they were all doing it and cheering.

The Captain took a large swig of his ale.

“Once we discuss the pay…ye got yerself a deal.”

*Thoughts? Comments (good or bad)? Suggestions? I enjoy hearing from you guys!*