The tavern wench across the bar from Carlisle had been watching him for the past half hour of his stay. A bottle of Jamaican Rum sat half empty before him. He didn’t bother wasting a glass, and had instead taken the entire bottle. His eyes flicked once to the tavern wench, trailing his eyes along the curves of her upper body, then moving a bit lower. He swallowed, then turned back to his drink. He hadn’t the time for such distractions, nor the interest. There were beautiful women, but he had yet to find one that wasn’t a whore. Of course, that type of woman was in short supply as of late.
No, he couldn’t let his mind wander to that of the female figure, nor the pleasantries it may bring. Not when he had a sneaky suspicion of a mission gone awry, as if something hadn’t gone as planned. A few weeks had passed since his crew’s supposed return. By now they should be at the docks with his mates, celebrating the new additions to their crew as well as the long road of treasure ahead of them.
That would be the case if his ship and crew had actually returned. They had been missing for the pass few months, not a word from any of the crew, nor any other pirates of whether or not they had been seen. What was he to do? Obviously he was to suspect that Percy, the young lad, was indeed a spy for the Royal Navy and had somewhere managed to get his ship captured by his allies. In which case it would be his own fault. If the crew and ship had been seized by enemy forces, then it was his doing. And, at the moment, there was nothing he could do about it.
He should have thought on it more. He should have realized that sooner, before he set his entire crew under the command and within the grasp of a Navy spy. Now all of those lives were on his shoulders, weighing him down. Edward, Phillip, Andrew, Connor- Every body was gone because of him. Childhood friends, trusted allies… Betrayed by his very hand. He deserved everything worse than death. No man ever-
The door to the tavern suddenly eased open, followed by a familiar ruckus of pirates, merry in every way possible. Carlisle’s crew should be acting as such…
“Whisky all around, wench.” The crew’s captain ordered. Carlisle’s eyes lifted ever so slightly to look at the triumphant looking man, flirtatiously eyeing the voluptuous woman. Her lip turned up in a sly smirk before she disappeared behind the counter, loading it with mugs and retrieving the bottles.
“Coming right up.” She didn’t spare him a wink, and returned his flirtatious audacity. “What’s the occasion?”
“A plan gone horribly wrong, but returning with our lives!”
Carlisle found himself snorting in response to this. “That’s an odd reason, mate. Any plan gone wrong is a failure, any failure isn’t worth celebrating.”
“To you,” the man grasped his mug as his drink was delivered. Others filled with drink began to slide across the table to his eccentric crew. “But to me every failure is worth celebrating, for there is always something to be learned.”
“Then bottoms up.” Carlisle returned, grasping his bottle in a mock toast gesture, “because I’ve made a big one.”
"Oh, aye?" The captain asked with a tilt of his brow over his drink. "And what would that be?"
"Well, I don't suppose it concerns you, but I believe I've left my crew in the hands of a Navy spy."
"Huh," the man said with a thoughtful look into the bottle. He found himself pondering whether to retrieve a new bottle soon, for this one was hastily emptying. "I suppose that is a problem. Tell me, oh young sailor, what does this vessel of yours look like?"
"It's easy to miss. Just a Schooner with white sails and a crew of only about a dozen men. It comes from the docks of Tortuga, should that provide anything to your imagination."
The man thought on this for a moment, then turned back to his men and let loose a call. "Oy! Any of you lads seen a Schooner while sailing?"
The men in the tavern began to murmur amongst themselves as though attempting to remember if they had actually seen one. Of course their route was full of passing vessels and it would be quite difficult to prove one Schooner is different from another.
"Aye! Saw one of 'em wrecked on an island, I did. And that was about a month ago. I doubt its gone anywhere since then."
Something sparked in Carlisle just then, and his head lifted to look at the pirate who spoke. "Did you see anybody on the island?"
"Can't be sure, but we did see the smoke of a fire after we left."
"Then it was a smoke signal. Why didn't you turn back?" Carlisle now turned to the pirate captian seated before him and gave him a hardy glare. He didn't know if it was his crew they were speaking of, but he felt it within himself to press for details and find out.
"We had just battled and suffered a loss of many men with a Navy ship. I didn't fancy losing any more of my men. However..." He trailed off and a mischievous glint lit his eyes. The pirate leaned closer to Carlisle and spoke in a hushed tone. "Should you desire it I could take you to that island to see if it truly is your crew, as I am sure you suspect them to be. But I ask for something in return."
Now Carlisle began to grow suspicious, as if he wasn't when the captain first sat down to speak with them. He knew better than anyone else how sneaky pirates were. He was one, after all.
"And what would that be?"
"Your friendship. I do you this favour and help you find your crew and once you find them we consider ourselves allies, my lad. You ask me this favour so in the long run we can both ask favours of each other. What do yah say?" Suspicion knawed at Carlisle's innards and his eyes simply stared at the pirate's hand that had been outstretched to make for a handshake. He was quite wary, but his crew and their safety and possibility of being alive was fresh in his mind, so he stretched out his hand and met the captain in a hardy shake.
"Captain Carlisle Bishop, at your service."
"And Captain Benjamin Hornigold at yours, mate."
~ ~ ~
The two pirate captains left the next morning before the sun could make its appearance over the horizon. By the time they had set sail the sun had slowly begun to shine its light upon the water and the hull of Benjamin Hornigold's ship: a well weathered Barque with three sails, two square rigged and the last fore-and-aft rigged. When Carlisle had first set sight on it he had met it with appreciation for it's sturdy looks. It would be a fast ship as well, he knew, for the hull was sleek and narrow, providing perfect maneuvering through the Carribbean waters.
As they sailed the hours grew on, and Carlisle provided the best he could for the crew. He would tie the sails, assist in swabbing the deck and maintain the cargo as he had done before when he was a young lad on his first ship. It was somewhat of a welcome experience, and he executed his jobs properly. He had forgotten what it was like not to be a captain and to be actually operating instead of sitting within his quarters and dividing the pay amongst his crew. Perhaps he'd have to change that, he thought as he worked.
"Carlisle, come here for a moment." He paused from assisting the crew move the cargo into storage and glanced up at Benjamin, who stood by the wheel of the ship with his eyes aimed into the distance. With a short farewell to the crew Carlisle made his way toward him, coming to a stop at his side.
"Yes?"
"How long have you been captaining your ship?"
"Not but a couple of years. Why?"
"Simply curiosity." The captain said, and then turned to look Carlisle in the eyes. "That ship with the blood red sails that was in the harbour, I assume that was yours?"
"Aye, if you mean the Caravel. She was my father's before he settled down with my mother but I... I suppose I took it off his hands."
Benjamin tilted his brow. "So that's your story then? You're a runaway?"
"I s'pose you could say it like that. Or... I had a calling that differed from what my father expected of me."
"Aye, don't we all?"
The two fell into silence as the wind began to pick up with a newfound vigor. The sails became bloated with the new force and the speed of the Barque piqued, and soon they were slicing through the waves as though nothing stood in their way.
"And you? What about you? What did you do before you picked up this... Occupation?"
Benjamin snorted. "Occupation, that's a gentle way to say it. But before this I was a privateer in the war. It wasn't long before I realized that that life suited me ill, and I made my way to becoming something else. However, I do not wish to declare myself an enemy to those I once served and thus refuse to fight against any English vessels."
"But you said you attacked a Navy ship."
"True. I did attack a Navy ship, though it was more for my crew's benefit than mine. I prefer fighting this battle of my own accord and under my own order, but I'm afraid my crew is made up of some of the toughest men I've met. And they don't always comply with what I suggest, though they have learned to. They hunger for the blood of the English, and I cannot hold them from that forever, else I wish mutiny upon myself."
"Well, here's to hoping that that never happens. And, as promised, I will be there to assist you if it ever were to happen."
"Good. Who knows, Captain Carlisle Bishop, you might just be filled with the stuff of legend."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I feel no shame in admitting that this chapter is certainly not up to standards and is the shortest thus far. This is just something I barely got out, and honestly do not think I can do much more with it until I finish this story and look back while editing the whole thing. Its damn good to be back, though.
DO NOT claim the contents of this story for your own. All rights and claims go to myself and those that have helped me write this thus far. Do not copyright this text, otherwise there will be consesquences.