Buxacan Spicerunner Page 13

  Captain Cantoni made a tidy living selling salt fish to ships that called in Dalaria, and had a contract to supply the Imperial Navy as well. Rather than pay his fishermen salaries, he made them partners instead, thus ensuring experience, enthusiasm and a crew that worked well together.

  They fished primarily for tuna, but had two other holds for swordfish and blues. A certain portion of the day’s catch, usually fish other than tuna unlucky enough to get snared in the nets, was set aside to feed the crew. The galley was well stocked with carrots, onions and potatoes, as well as various tropical fruits and lemons.

  Cantoni did all of the cooking himself and kept a variety of expensive spices aboard as well. He made stews, bisques, filets, and fish steaks that were spectacular. Sako carefully noted down some of the recipes for his mother.

  “Well fed means happy,” Cantoni explained to Afnir. “Happy works hard. Hard work means lots of fish. Lots of fish means a lot of money and a lot of money is well fed. Full circle!”

  It was hard work; hauling the nets by hand or mending them when they were torn by sharks and other large predators, but they were well fed and soon became inured to the smell. Some of the hands found it strangely satisfying to work honestly for a share of the profits, but none would have admitted it, if asked.

  Twenty days after their rescue, the Smilers helped offload the Kingfisher’s largest catch ever onto the fish docks of the port of Dalaria. They were paid off to the tune of three Tayan regents each, about half a regular share. Even so, it was an enormous sum for one voyage when compared to the standard pay of most merchant ships.

  Cantoni offered full shares to anyone who’d stay on with the Kingfisher—the Smilers politely declined, claiming families in Bilitown. Also, Afnir had to report the loss of the Bellflower to her owner so he could collect the insurance from Rones of Gateway.

  “But if he fires me for losing his ship and cargo…well I just may come back. After all, someone’s gotta show youse where the fish are!”

  The fishermen thought that was pretty funny.

  The Smilers spent the next few hours washing the fishy smell away in one of the public bathhouses. They were shaved and barbered back into respectability and acquired clothes to replace their tattered rags.

  Afnir and Thard spent every last copper at the tailors, Afnir because he was posing as a merchant captain and Thard because he was Thard. Sako got them a reduced rate at the Wayfarer by mentioning his father’s name to Pallo Bini, the proprietor.

  Afnir’s plan was to scout which ships were in port and if any could be taken unawares. They spent the next day haunting the dockside taprooms, casually asking questions and idling along the wharves. The news was depressing.

  Jessa was from Jonos and was bound for Jono City with wheat, barley, beans and furniture. Her crew was too large to be taken quietly by twelve barely armed men. Fruitrunner and the Star of Dalarville were Kimbulan; taking either was out of the question. Worse, none of the twelve knew anyone from either ship, so a request for passage to Port Buxaca would be met with extreme hostility.

  Ana Bay was a Tayan bound for Port Therma with a load of cotton cloth, weapons and livestock, but she was sailing in less than an hour. Kingfisher was still in, along with four other fishing vessels, none of which were useful for their purposes. The Imperial Navy frigates Speed and Dolphin were moored in the roads, and Dolphin was rumored to be short of men. That meant the press-gangs would be out in force.

  “Keep aboard this evening, mate,” one hand told Drac. “Unless you fancy joining up.”

  The Wayfarer Inn was not frequented by sailors as it was too far from the water and rather expensive, so press-gangs usually didn’t go there. However, word of a dozen deeply tanned men who walked and talked like sailors might draw them in. Just to be safe, Pallo locked them in the basement with a keg of beer (on the house) for the night.

  “I made a lot of money since your da sold me this place,” he told Sako. “Least I could do is keep you safe and give you a drink.”

  Around midnight, an Imperial Navy Lieutenant did indeed show up, accompanied by four salty hands and a platoon of the City Watch, following rumors of a dozen castaways brought in by a deep-sea fisher.

  They turned out all the guests: four men of means—two with their families—a blind beggar sleeping in the stables, and an arrogant noble from the capitol honeymooning with his bride.

  The wealthy merchants were flabbergasted and making their displeasure known, and the children were crying and screaming as their mothers held them close. The beggar trembled in the grip of a Watchman and Sir Mekton of House Overbridge demanded the name and ship of the lieutenant, calling for floggings all around for the violation of his Lady wife’s privacy.

  The couple had been dozing naked on a blanket in front of the fireplace in their private suite when the press-gang had burst in unannounced. Lady Overbridge, pretty in spite of the tears and disheveled hair, stood red-faced and sobbing behind him. She was wrapped in the blanket but was mortified to have been seen unclothed.

  Amidst the chaos, Pallo assumed the attitude of the righteously indignant as he answered the lieutenant’s questions. “No I don’t normally cater to sailors! You can see the quality of guests here. Twelve? There were seven, well dressed and clean. I knew one of their fathers. One was a ship’s captain. Now? How should I know? About two hours ago one came back from the waterfront, out of breath and excited; Captain Sanfora paid the bill and they hired my coach-and-four and a driver to take them to Budley Mills up the road. What business? I didn’t inquire! Maybe to avoid getting pressed! I got the impression they were from Kimbula—you really want Kimbulans on an Imperial ship?”

  The lieutenant was finally distracted from his interrogation by Sir Mekton’s thrown glove. The young knight was so incensed by his bride’s tears that he challenged the lieutenant on the spot.

  Unable to back down in front of his men, he reluctantly accepted. A bout to the third blooding was agreed on and everyone made room for them. Lady Overbridge was afraid her fiery tempered husband might be hurt, but she needn’t have worried.

  The Naval Officer was competent with a blade, but was no match for the young nobleman, who had been trained by the swordmasters of the Tayan Imperial Cavalry. Sir Mekton disarmed the lieutenant with his second stroke, slashed his face, stabbed his thigh and cut his arm. In a final fit of pique he skewered the officer’s uniform hat right off his head and flung it into the dirt.

  “My honor is satisfied,” he declared. “Remove yourself and this…rabble from my sight.”

  With a few muttered ‘apologies to the lady’ and ‘no disrespect meant, sirs’, the sailors collected their officer and his hat and set off for the harbor. The Watchmen disappeared with the beggar and Sir Mekton protectively escorted his wife inside. Pallo sent a fresh apple pie with cream to their suite by way of apology, “And for Stess’ sake—knock first!” he told the servant.

  The innkeeper related this tale to his seafaring guests over breakfast in the common room. While they were laughing, the Overbridges appeared in the common room as their own servants carried down their luggage.

  “Three cheers for Sir Mekton,” Aler called, when he saw them.

  “Belay that!” Afnir said. “We’re in a civilized house on dry land.” He stood and made an elaborate bow. “Captain Afnir Sanfora and the crew of the late Bellflower of Kimbula wish your good health, sir.” Cups and mugs were raised and their contents drained. “I fear we were the root cause of your difficulties last night. Our most humble apologies to the Lady for her discomfort.” He bowed his head and kicked the table. When no one moved, he cleared his throat theatrically.

  Dason caught on first; soon everyone was on his feet with head bowed.

  Lady Overbridge blushed prettily and smiled. “Please, everyone sit down. It was not your men who kicked in my door last night, Captain.”

  “I wish it had been,” muttered Drac, as he eyed her bodice. “I would’ve liked to’ve seen those—” Sturo kicke
d him.

  Sir Mekton looked them over with the slightest disdain. He was inclined to dislike the dashing Chain Islander. “I understand the Navy’s need, but that doesn’t give them the right to kick in every door looking for sailors,” he said. “I’m just as glad that they went back empty-handed.

  “I shall speak to the Lord High Admiral when I return to Taya. Your apology is accepted, Captain. I wish you a safe journey to your home. Excuse me; I have to see to my horse.” The knight turned and left, but Lady Overbridge hesitated.

  She looked right past Afnir at Sako. “Have a safe voyage,” she said with a sweet smile. “I hope you find a new ship.” She blushed again and slipped outside.

  Sako felt very warm, and realized everyone was staring at him. “What?”

  There were laughs and chuckles all around.

  “She liked you, you idiot,” said Thard.

  “Our mighty navigator has missed a conquest!” Dason said.

  Sturo liked that. “I bet she was wondering how you’d be…on a blanket…in front of a fire…”

  “Everything would be fine until Drac kicked in the door to look at her breasts.”

  “You heard that?”

  “Everyone heard that, stut-for-brains!” said Afnir.

  “Thank Ster that Sir Mekton didn’t,” said Brog. “I thought we’d have a duel for sure!”

  Afnir threw a piece of bacon at Drac. “And I’d’ve had to fight it! His class thinks all seamen are lower than peasants, especially Kimbulans.”

  “I once fought a duel with a count,” Buck started, but Drac cut him off.

  “Yeah, you winked at his Lady, fought him to the death and valled his widow right next to his body on the field of honor, right?”

  “And she liked it,” added Sev.

  “Well, you might not believe—”

  “No one does, so shut your grub locker,” said Olik with finality.

  Afnir decided to send only Thard and Dason to the waterfront that day. Thard was too well dressed to be taken for a sailor in spite of his rolling gait, and Dason could charm his way out of a murder trial with blood on his hands and a body at his feet. The others whiled away the time playing cards, dicing, and drinking.

  Thard returned first with a story of another unsuccessful press-gang from the Dolphin. Apparently, the officer in charge was desperate enough to attempt to abduct sailors right off their ship. Unfortunately, he’d picked the Star of Dalarville.

  “The deckwatch was alert and called ‘repel boarders’. The Navy men were confronted by angry sailors bearing marlinspikes, boathooks and cutlasses. The Stars even went so far as to run out one of the guns. The Dolphins scattered, and left their midshipman alone to face the Kimbulans.”

  Dason’s story wasn’t as amusing but was far more interesting. It seemed there was a Mitterish runner that had lost all but her captain and four hands to the press-gangs. “I was in the harbormaster’s office, claiming to have a shipment of olive oil for Encaster. I was to travel with it as supercargo. This guy, Captain pen Hoyt of the Moonbeam, came in to protest the seizure of his men from the taverns. He’s got a load of clothing and building supplies bound for Colada, but now he can’t sail. He was even willing to pay a bribe to get his hands back.” Dason paused for a drink. “So the harbormaster, he says, ‘I have no power over the Imperial Navy sir, nor its officers. Also I’m insulted by your offer of graft!’ I guess fifty crowns wasn’t enough. ‘I will tell you that docking fees remain in effect for as long as you are in my port, regardless of the reason!’ So there’s pen Hoyt, not enough men to sail, and still owing docking fees. I made some excuses and left.”

  “We could take her easy,” said Buck excitedly. “Twelve to five? Barely any ruckus and we could be out to sea by nightfall.”

  “I was thinking we could sign aboard as replacements for his missing sailors, and we don’t take over until we’re already at sea.”

  “That’s how we’ll do it,” said Afnir. “Unless you’d rather have Speed and Dolphin chasing us all over the Buxacan Sea, Buck?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Didn’t think you had.”

  “When are we leaving?” asked Brog.

  “As soon as we’ve paid our bill. Where is the Moonbeam, Dason? Is she moored or tied?”

  “Tied. First ship aft of the Star.”

  “All right. I want groups of no more than two. Every pair moves through the city by any route but the direct one. Stay quiet and stay apart. When you get to the wharf, get aboard as fast as you can. First pair aboard let them know the rest are coming.”

  Afnir and Aler made it all the way to the wharf without incident, but were nabbed as soon as they left the alley across from the Moonbeam. They were pushed into a tight formation of Imperial sailors. Drac and Clenchjaw were already there, and there was a commotion on the dock alongside the Star of Dalarville. Three more Imperial sailors ran past to help just as the pileup exploded.

  It was Olik and Brog, back to back. Olik held a man by his feet and was swinging him around like a child. Brog reached out and seized two men who had gotten too close and smashed their heads together.

  It was now a standoff, but more Imperials were arriving, and the odds would soon change against the sailors of enterprise. Hands from the Star lined their rail, enjoying the show and calling bets to each other.

  Meanwhile, a ships launch had just disembarked a pair of Kimbulan merchant officers and their passenger. Afnir saw the passenger slip down the alley he and Aler used, bypassing another quartet of Imperial sailors who dragged Sako and Dason out.

  One of the Kimbulans stared in surprise, and nudged his companion.

  The older man’s reaction was instantaneous: “UNHAND THAT MAN!”

  Olik was in full swing when he heard the command and immediately released his captive. That unfortunate wailed and sailed right into a crowd of Imperials. They went down like bowling pins and several were knocked into the water. The watching Stars howled with laughter.

  The Kimbulan officers turned away from that commotion and confronted the group holding Sako and Dason.

  Ignoring the Imperials, the younger officer addressed Dason sternly, “I sent you ashore an hour ago, Ster Nive.”

  Startled, Dason looked up and recognized the new men on the scene. “Ster Sine…Captain Blue—”

  “Are you so dissatisfied with the Flatfish that you’d rather be in the Imperial Navy?”

  “Sir!” Dason was aghast, but recovered quickly. He projected his voice like a stage character as Sine had done, so that all could hear. “Never, sir! I came ashore and secured lodgings for you and the captain just as you’d ordered. On my way back I ran into my mate Sako here. We grew up together.”

  An Imperial midshipman was closing on the group rapidly.

  “And you delayed reporting back to the Flatfish and completing your duty to have a drink with your mate?” Sine’s tone was that of a disappointed officer, skeptical of excuses.

  “Nossir! Sako’s been shipwrecked! He and his shipmates were taken off a little island and brought here by a deep-sea fisher. They don’t have any way home, sir, and I said I’d ask you if we could use some extra hands…but we were caught by a press-gang!”

  Sine wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he turned to Sako, keenly aware of the midshipman who was nearly at his shoulder now. “You two grew up together?”

  “Next door, sir,” Sako answered.

  Captain Blue suddenly took an interest, and prevented the midshipman from speaking. “I know you! You’re an innkeeper’s son, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Fine food at that inn! Damned fine food.” He put out his hand and shook Sako’s firmly. “I’m Captain Blue. I’d heard you were the navigator for Captain Junarre. The Breeze is wrecked you say?”

  “No—”

  Sako was abruptly interrupted by the Navy officer. “Excuse me, sir!” he said to Captain Blue. “You are interfering with Imperial Navy business. These recruits are
all about to be escorted to the Dolphin where they will serve until the Empire no longer needs them.”

  “Recruits?” Blue looked the midshipman up and down with barely concealed contempt. “A little old for a midshipman, aren’t you? Are they signed on the Dolphin? Are their names in your book? Because this man’s name is in my book.” Blue indicated Dason. “He is a member of my crew, and it is you who are interfering in his duties!”

  “Fair enough then; we’ll let that one go.”

  But Blue wasn’t satisfied. “And this man? He’s a navigator; he outranks you! Since when can officers be pressed?”

  “Merchant officers—”

  “Are still officers! Am I understood? Did you think you could gainsay a ship’s captain? Be still, sir!” Blue glared at the midshipman until he subsided, then turned back to Sako. “Now sir, where is Captain Junarre?”

  Sako eyed the sailors on the Star. “I couldn’t say, Captain. I left the Breeze some time ago. I’m of the Bellflower, late of Dalarville, with Captain Sanfora. He’s the curly haired Chain Islander over there.”

  “Dalarville?” called a voice from the nearby ship. “Youse’re from Dalarville?”

  “Most of us are from Bilitown actually, but the ship is owned…was owned by a Dalarville consortium.”

  Blue turned to face Afnir. “Captain Sanfora, I take it these other men are your crew?”

  Afnir made a show of looking around. “Why sir, I believe they are.”

  The midshipman, still stinging from Blue’s rebuke, also looked around. There were at least forty of his own men in sight, and also a dozen sailors from the Imperial frigate Speed. Blue only had eight, and six of those were still in his boat. Ten, maybe; the giant and the Clav were still unrestrained.

  “This is all very interesting,” the midshipman said arrogantly. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you are all on Tayan soil, subject to Imperial law. You may rank me, sir, but I have the might of the Imperial Navy behind me and I say that these idle sailors belong to the Dolphin and there’s nothing you can do about it. If you have anything else to say of it, I’ll press you as well. Do you understand me?”