Buxacan Spicerunner Read online

  Before Blue could respond, the loud voice from the Star did, “And I say these are citizens of the free colony of Kimbula, and not subject to service in your filthy Navy. PREPARE TO REPEL BOARDERS!”

  The Stars along the rail began to bang their cutlasses and marlinspikes on the side of the ship. “Do I need to run out my guns, Midshipman? Again?”

  “AAAYO STAR OF DALARVILLE!” a new voice shouted from down the wharf. “Fruitrunners are asking if youse need assistance!”

  There were at least forty Kimbulan sailors grouped around that voice. All were visibly armed.

  Captain Blue showed the midshipman a predatory smile and raised his own voice, “Brink!”

  “Sir,” one of the men in the launch answered.

  “Signal to the Flatfish. All hands to be armed and sent ashore.”

  “Belay that, if you please,” snapped the midshipman. “Dolphins, release these men and stand down. We’ll be returning to our ship.” He shot Blue a venomous look. “This will not be forgotten, sir!”

  “No,” Blue agreed. “It will not.” There was dead silence as the Imperials departed. The boards boomed under the angry midshipman’s boots. The other Kimbulans stood down, talking excitedly about putting a finger in the Navy’s eye.

  “Captain Sanfora, you and your crew are welcome aboard my Flatfish. Get aboard the launch double quick!”

  “Thank you very much, sir!”

  “We’ll discuss passage fees later,” Blue added wryly. Blue and Sine went to the harbormaster to pay one day’s mooring. They told that official that they’d take their cargo to Port Sipa instead, where their crew was safe from abduction.

  As Port Sipa was in Agresia, it was the ultimate of insults. The other Kimbulan captains arrived as he was leaving; they were leaving, too.

  “I’ll get nearly the same price for my goods in Sipa,” Blue told Sanfora later. “Main reason for coming to Dalaria was to deliver my passenger anyway. Paid very well…in Agresian coin.” He smiled. “Also asked me not to mention his presence to the authorities.”

  Afnir smiled as well.

  25

  Desperate Straits

  Tirpa posed as Captain Kacoma when the Golden Sunrise put in to Port Sipa. If the harbormaster or the factor who bought the wheat thought it strange that the Captain with a name from the Chain Islands spoke with a Mitterish accent, neither mentioned it.

  The Smilers provisioned the Sunrise well, letting it be known they were sailing to Sevulia in ballast for tobacco and put back out to sea.

  En route to Port Buxaca, Ellor explained their dismal finances. Ten percent of the profit from the wheat was for Captain Anford, and much of the rest had gone for provisioning. There remained the loan payment for the Merciless as well, which left precious little for Crew shares.

  “We made five thousand Tayan crowns, and spent three on food and suchlike. Five hundred is for Anford, and we owe four thousand as our first payment.”

  “Do we have to make that payment in full?” Sturo asked.

  “We can’t. We’d have to sell the ship. She’s not worth as much as the Merciless though, so we’d still owe a payment and a half, or six thousand crowns.”

  “So unless Afnir and the others did the same as us,” said Arno. “We’re valled.”

  “Not quite,” said Ellor. “There is a provision in the loan contract for partial payments. Ten percent or four hundred crowns would be acceptable. However, when the next payment comes due we’ll owe the rest of this one plus that one.”

  “That’s seven thousand six hundred crowns!” said Chos. “That’s one big haul.”

  “So if we make a partial payment, we still get full shares?” Finve asked.

  “That’s why I wanted to talk to everyone. I’m not sure how to do a share-out with the Crew split as it is.”

  “That’s easy,” said Tirpa. “The Crews that are having more than one ship are working it like this: If the Fin is taking a big prize and the Fang is being elsewhere, the hands on the Fang are getting nothing.”

  “What about those who were here but didn’t participate?” Sev said.

  “Half shares,” Chos said promptly. “It’s not our fault we’re injured and can’t fight.”

  “That’s better than a fifth,” said Finve bitterly.

  “Enough of that,” Ellor said firmly. “But that does raise another question. Obviously, I’ll never help take a prize again and—”

  “You’re still the accounter,” Tirpa stated. “You’ll be summarily hanged if we’re being caught. Your work is being as important to the Crew as Aler’s or Sako’s.

  “Chos though, is being the boatswain and a fighting member of the Crew, so he’s getting half his regular share until he’s healing.” Everybody agreed that was fair.

  A few weeks later the Golden Sunrise entered Swag Bay under the Bloody Smile. The harbormaster took Tirpa’s explanations in stride. He was Dol Orange, and had once been part of Captain Anford’s Crew.

  “Lucky for youse this ship passed by Gull Stut Island! Not many ships do. No cargo? There’s no fees for Brotherhood ships—no time limits either. Hope the rest of your Crew comes in soon.”

  Tirpa advised his Smilers to buy weapons and continue sleeping and eating on the ship. “I’m not telling any man how to be spending his coin, but a marlinspike is matching poorly to a blade, I’m thinking.”

  Everyone but Arno and Finve took him at his word. Those two went to the Treasure Chest. Arno tripled his money and bought a cutlass and a pistol. He also had enough left for a few drinks and a night on Cathouse Row. Finve lost everything.

  Two weeks later, The Flatfish arrived and the Crew was reunited. Dason had heard of ‘Captain Kacoma’ and the Sunrise in Port Sipa. Tirpa gratefully turned over command to Afnir at the evening’s Council. The two groups traded their tales since leaving Gull Stut Island, and then Afnir turned serious.

  “Brothers, things aren’t good. Ship’s funds are gone. We have half the Crew and half the ship we started with. We still owe twelve thousand crowns for the Merciless and we only have provisions for a ten-day cruise. I ask for suggestions on cruising stations. There may be opportunities off the Continent—Taya and Agresia are at war again.”

  “We can’t get anywhere in ten days, Afnir,” said Balgo.

  “I propose we pool what’s left of our personal coin. I have four Tayan pennies. It’s all I’ve got.”

  In the brief pause before the Smilers reached for their pockets and purses, Ellor said, “I’ll tally each man’s contribution. You will be reimbursed with ten percent interest out of the ship’s fund, as soon as we have a ship’s fund.”

  In the end, coins from Taya, Agresia and Jonos were stacked in meager little piles in front of the accounter. Ellor converted everything to Tayan value—there were only fifteen crowns. “That will gain us three days of cruising.”

  “Why don’t we give it all to Arno?” suggested Drac. “He can turn coals to crowns anytime he likes at the Treasure Chest.”

  “I don’t know, brothers. With my own money maybe…”

  There was a little more discussion, but Arno left with all the money and everyone’s approval. He was their only hope. They were already overextended with Sigto and Anford, and no one was willing to ask family for a loan.

  None of the factors would be willing to speculate either; ‘cargo at the docks’ was the only way to get one to open his coffers. Dason disappeared during that discussion.

  Arno returned after only a few hours, wearing a glum expression.

  “What happened?” asked Thard. He had been smoking his pipe on deck and was the first to spot Arno.

  “The luck wouldn’t hold. We now have twenty-two crowns.”

  “We’d better tell the captain.”

  Afnir was disappointed but wouldn’t berate his friend. It was gambling, after all. “You did your best,” he said.

  The Crew spent a dismal evening aboard, drinking the last of their beer. They couldn’t afford anything stronger. Dason sti
ll hadn’t returned when the beer ran out.

  Late the next morning, the men were nursing their hangovers when Dason strolled up the gangplank, wearing a jaunty smile and jingling a large pouch in his hand. Only gold coins had that kind of ring.

  “Where’ve you been?” Balgo asked suspiciously.

  “Cathouse Row.”

  “What?”

  “Cathouse Row.”

  Brog barked a laugh. “Dason Nive! The only man who can go to Cathouse Row without a single penny and come back with gold!”

  “I bet he got valled, too!” Drac called from the foredeck.

  “I might have.”

  “What’d you do, Dason?” said Sako.

  “I made a business proposition.” He smiled at everyone and bounced the purse dramatically.

  “Come on, Dason,” Olik rumbled. “Quit playing around and tell it.”

  “All right. I went to the Seashell and spoke to Stess Adena. If she were willing to invest a small sum, say ten crowns or so, she’d get back her money plus ten percent when we came back in with our next haul.”

  “And she agreed to this?” asked Sturo.

  Dason smiled again, like a cat in the cream. “Let’s just say she was in the mood to speculate.”

  “I’ll bet!” said Buck with a leer. “So Stess Adena, Madame of the Seashell, was so taken with the size of your stap that she paid you ten valling crowns?”

  “Well, she was so taken by my…umm, charm and wit that I couldn’t leave for an hour. And she did give me ten crowns.” He jingled the purse again.

  The Crew thought that was pretty funny, but Afnir had a question. “What’s the hook?”

  “Well…it seems that on the day we pay off, our entire Crew has to spend the evening at the Seashell. At full price.”

  There were smiles all around. “Stut! That’s not so bad,” said Drac.

  “Wait a minute,” said Sako. “How many houses did you make this deal with?”

  Dason smiled and upended the bag onto Ellor’s table. It was a lot of gold. “Four. The best ones.”

  “Sounds like a great week when we get back!” said Finve. The others heartily agreed, except for Ellor. “Four nights, the four best houses, that’s going to be quite expensive.”

  “Then we’ll just need a big haul!” said Afnir enthusiastically. “What say we hit the Tayan Treasure Fleet?”

  The Smilers cheered, but Aler brought them back to reality.

  “Twenty-one men, two of whom can’t fight, on a six gun brigantine,” he said flatly. “There won’t even be enough of us left to hang when it’s over.”

  “Yeah,” said Sako. “But at least at that point, it doesn’t really matter who we owe money to.”

  Even Clenchjaw smiled at that.

  “Treasure Fleet was a joke, Aler, but what can we hit that’s valuable and not too well guarded?”

  “Fruit, grain and timber aren’t guarded very well,” said Aler.

  “And they’re not worth stut either!” snapped Sturo.

  “Bananas and pineapples are fetching high prices in Mitter and Vakgen,” said Tirpa.

  “What about furs or hides?” said Buck. “The well-to-do ladies in Taya pay a fortune for zebra hide capes.”

  “You propose sailing up the East Branch to Taya in order to sell ‘em?” Arno asked scornfully.

  “Yeah,” said Drac. “He wants to dodge all three navies off of Clavland, then fight through Gateway to get up the river. Idiot!”

  Olik spoke up before Buck could respond. “Wait. What if we take the furs to Encaster? Then we only gotta face the Agresians, and they’re no threat to Kimbulan runners. That’s where Captain Stansek sells when he doesn’t come home.”

  “We’d get triple the price they’ll pay here in Port Buxaca,” said Ellor thoughtfully.

  “Spice.” Everyone stopped babbling and looked at Clenchjaw. He raised his eyebrows, and everyone began talking again.

  Spices! Those found exclusively in the Chains like nutmeg and cloves commanded fantastic prices that only got better the farther south they were sold. Cinnamon could bring in ten times its purchase price in Encaster, and black pepper sold in Vakgen was worth more than twenty times its cost in Colada.

  As long as they didn’t get greedy and try to take the large and well-armed ships of the Northern Trading Company or the Chains and Clavvish Enterprises, they stood a fair chance of taking high value with low risk. Some of the hands thought their problems solved until Chos brought them up short.

  “Dangerous sailing in parts of the Chains,” he warned. “I’ve been in those waters. Uncharted reefs everywhere, strong currents, monsters and the Tanglesea.”

  “What’s the Tanglesea?” asked Finve.

  “Seaweed,” said Buck. “Leagues of it. You’re in blue water, no bottom on any sounding line, but there’s seaweed anyway. It attaches to the hull and starts growing immediately. It’s magic and it eats ships.

  “After a watch in the Tanglesea, you’re so fouled with it you’ll never get out. No amount of wind will save you. Put boats over to tow, and it attacks the boats. There’s over a hundred ships caught in it, full of starved to death sailors and untold riches in cargo. The treasure ship Jessa is in there and the Stork is, too. Even ships painted with Neverrot get caught. Captain Orsten tried to get in for the Jessa, and some say he’s still there, screaming and cursing the weed.”

  Most of the hands looked frightened, but Drac looked disgusted. “Oh for Stess’ sake!”

  “No, no it’s true,” said Chos. “I’ve seen the Tanglesea with my own eyes! Ships from every nation, ships like you’ve never seen, some under full sail. And none of them move and none of them sink!”

  “And you’re smelling the dead. I’ve been seeing it, too.”

  “Hundreds of ships?”

  “Dozens, anyway.”

  “Where exactly is it?” Sako asked. He’d heard the name but no more when he’d been in the Chains.

  “Hard to say; it’s drifting, sort of,” said Tirpa.

  “West of Seela,” Chos said. “I don’t know the fixes for the edges, but it’s between there and Clavland.”

  “Enough,” said Afnir. “We’ll discuss it on the way! So we’re cruising the Chains looking for small spicerunners, is that it?”

  “And anything else we can get!”

  Afnir smiled at Brog’s comment, and began giving orders. “Tirpa, take four men and all the money and get some provisions. The rest of you make ready for sea. Sako! Chart us a course for Costa. Let’s get some spices! I’d like Swag Island to be hull down on the horizon by the end of the next watch.”

  26

  The Sack Of Port Therma

  Only four ships came out to meet them: a sloop, two brigs, and the Whitewing; battered, leaky and elderly but still a formidable battleship of sixty guns and six hundred men.

  Stiv Dallo on the Swift checked the Hawk to his fore and the Dragon to his aft to be sure he was still in line. Pallo Argi on the Eagle was in command of the Red Fleet today. Port Therma had been his idea; the Republic was deeply involved in the war and her colonial defenses were suffering. Taya’s navy was not a threat to the city, but there were fifteen thousand troops from the Empire somewhere between Braden and Port Therma. Most of Agresia’s troops in Clavland were also between those two colonies.

  Stiv neither knew nor cared if the troops had joined battle yet, but word from Kimbula was that only the Whitewing remained to defend Therma by sea. Surely the Red Fleet could destroy her, Argi had said. The other Red captains had agreed, even though no one liked Argi. After the Whitewing, it would only be a matter of bombarding the one fort. And looting.

  Stiv checked his position again, and saw that the Hawk had put up her Feathered Skull. The other ships were displaying their colors as well.

  “Run up the Skull and Bones,” he ordered. There were nine ships in the Red Fleet; Stiv thought he had a pretty good chance of surviving this fight.

  The Agresian sloop broke off and ran due east. Th
ey probably meant to head for Hanarre for reinforcements. Without orders from Argi, Arballe on the Stinger gave chase.

  Stiv approved; it was the best use of the small ship for now. He’d still get his fair share of the haul. The Red captains had all taken the Society Oath to divide the haul equally between surviving ships. Of course, everyone would only be honest about it so long as the others were watching. But Arballe didn’t have to worry, his Brothers on the other Bloody Fist ship would take care of him. Stiv didn’t have that luxury as all of his Brothers were on the Swift with him.

  The Agresian brigs were in gun range and turned to present their broadsides. Whitewing was beyond and between them, turning ponderously. Stiv looked to the Eagle for Argi’s signal.

  ‘Fire only on Whitewing, ignore brigs.’

  “Acknowledge that, please. Gunners, fire only on the battleship!” Most of the other ships also acknowledged, but the lead ship in their formation fired. It was Felicity. Water splashed forward of the lead brig.

  “I guess Captain Stansek doesn’t care what Argi says,” Stiv’s first mate commented.

  “Just as well,” Stiv said. The Whitewing was in range, and would be in firing position soon. “Come on Argi. What’re you waitin’ for?”

  Both brigs fired, one at Slicer and one at Star of Sipa. Neither did very much damage as far as Stiv could see. Finally the signal came. Eagle, Falcon and Hawk fired on the Whitewing immediately after.

  “About valling time! FIRE!” Stiv’s guns boomed along with the rest of the fleet, all aimed at the Whitewing. Everyone was using round shot; they meant to sink the battleship as quickly as possible. Stiv saw water fountain all around the Agresian ship before the smoke from his guns obscured his view. The line didn’t hold together very long after that. They were sailors of enterprise, not a disciplined navy. They were used to fighting one on one or two or three on one, and not against naval ships. Even so, sheer numbers made up for their lack of discipline. It was over in an hour.

  Slicer had gone down—less than twenty men had been saved by the other Knifehand ship, the Wavecutter. Of the survivors, Star of Sipa had lost the most men and was leaking.