Mama's Boy And Other Dark Tales Part 4

"Sir," he said, trying hard to steady his voice, "I'm deeply sorry for the trouble I've caused you. I'll work hard and pay off all the money owed you. It's what my mother would want me to do."

The man rolled his eyes and scowled, but Will thought he saw a flicker of softening in his hard expression.

"Come on then. The missus will be none too happy with the state of ye."

He was right. The innkeeper's wife, Missus Cavender, was loathe to have a young boy to look after as well as running the only inn found in the Village of Eastville. But after a good scrubbing, a bit a food, and a full night's sleep, she put Will to work. He was true to his promise to work hard. Aside from her displeasure with his constant wearing of the heavy wool coat, the Missus seemed pleased with him. And from Will's perspective, Mister Cavender and his wife gave him a warm place to sleep and breakfast and supper. Compared to being on his own, he found his lot quite tolerable.

Thoughts of his mother often crept into Will's mind and darkened his heart against the villagers of Eastville, but in those moments he touched Mister Worthing's letter in his pocket to remind himself of his duty. After such a painful stretch in his young life, many months pa.s.sed with Will content to live day by day, honoring his mother's memory.

His tenth birthday came to pa.s.s at the inn and the missus offered a sweetcake with his supper by way of celebration. She'd become fond of him, though Will could tell her husband did not share the sentiment. To Mister Cavender, Will's presence simply marked a debt being paid.

Late one night, a s.h.i.+p anch.o.r.ed at the docks. The rough crew came ash.o.r.e, as they always did, to the Eastville Inn for a meal and a warm bed with feminine company, if it could be had. The innkeeper stayed up late drinking and singing with the men, his long-time acquaintances in trade, the kind outside of the King's jurisdiction.

The missus ran herself and young Will ragged, keeping the ale flowing and serving heaping platters of meat and potatoes to fill the seemingly bottomless stomachs of the sailors. She held her tongue when the wagering began, but she knew her husband's weakness. Soon her worries were realized when the s.h.i.+p's mate began a drunken rant.

"I shoulda known ye haddena silver a' hand. Pay up ye thievin' b.a.s.t.a.r.d, before I gut ye fer me supper," he shouted. He unsheathed the dagger from his belt, twisting it slowly as he pointed at the innkeeper's girth.

Always quick thinking, even saturated with drink, the innkeeper didn't blink at the threat.

"I've got somethin' far better than a few coins, mate. I heard you're short of hands after the last haul to the Carolinas. Crew took quite a beatin' with the fever is what I heard."

The s.h.i.+p's mate bristled at the comment, leaning forward he pressed the tip of his dagger against the innkeeper's gut.

"Cheat me, and now ye insult me. Aye, a guttin's too good for ye."

"Aw, now don't be frettin', Mister Rutt. You know my word is good. Look here." He pointed to the exhausted boy carrying a heavy load of greasy dishes back toward the kitchen. "There's your prize, man."

"What are you on about? That bairn can narey hold a stack of plates. He's no use to me."

"Oh, but he's a pretty one, ain't he, mate?" asked the innkeeper with a wink.

The s.h.i.+p's mate took another look at the boy as he pushed through the kitchen door.

"Aye, he is that, but that still ain't no rightful settlin' of our wager. Add tonight's meal and lodging to the pot and I'll not carve a hole in yer bowels this time."

Missus Cavender emerged from the kitchen to the hush in the room and the dagger pointing at her husband's belly.

"Martha," said her husband, "bring the boy here. The first mate of The Queen's Promise The Queen's Promise will be his new keeper." will be his new keeper."

The missus staggered where she stood, but forced herself to stand her ground.

"I'll do no such thing, Mister Cavender. That boy is me hand and I'll not part with him."

The s.h.i.+p's mate leaned across the table and flicked the tip of his dagger across the innkeeper's cheek. Blood beaded from the wound and trickled to his chin.

"Martha," said the innkeeper in measured speech, "the mate will see the boy ... now."

Missus Cavender knew the ways of these men, these pirates. She turned and fled through the kitchen door, grabbing the bewildered boy up into her arms. She squeezed him tight, her voice trembling as she spoke.

"I'm sorry, dear Will. I'm so sorry."

"What is it, missus?" said Will, his own fear beginning to rise.

The woman stood, avoiding his eyes. Without another word, she took him by the hand and led him into the dinning room. The place was nearly silent except for the snoring of a sailor face down on a table near the warm hearth. The s.h.i.+p's mate, Mister Rutt, turned his dagger, admiring the firelight reflecting from the blade. He smiled at the innkeeper, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Eyeing the blood dripping on the front of the man's s.h.i.+rt, Mister Rutt said, "Sorry about the stain, Cavender." He laughed and snorted at his own joke, breaking the tension in the room. The rest of the sailors joined in, laughing and slapping each other on the back. One of them shouted to the mate when the missus appeared with the boy.

"Hey, Mister Rutt, yer new girl's arrived." He smacked his lips and blew the boy a l.u.s.ty kiss.

"Bring the boy here, Martha," said the innkeeper.

Will had no idea what was happening, but his instincts told him he was in danger. The feral looks of the men terrified him. Before, they had barely noticed him, but now they stared and reached out to pinch him and touch his red hair as the missus guided him to her husband's table. Together they stood before the pirate, Duncan Rutt. Missus Cavender pulled Will closer to her hip and put her arm around his shoulder.

"Come here, lad," said the pirate.

"Won't you change yer mind, sir?" asked the missus. "He's just a wee boy and will only be in the way on yer fine s.h.i.+p. He's a right dolt, he is."

Rutt ignored the woman.

"I said, come here."

Sensing the danger to the missus, Will stepped away from her trembling hands and stood before the dark skinned man.

He bowed his head respectfully. "Sir."

The pirate leaned forward and grabbed his face in a huge rough hand and pulled Will within inches of his nose. The man squeezed Will's cheeks so hard that the pain made his eyes water, but the stench of his breath would have been sufficient.

"You're mine now, laddy! Or better still, I'll bring ye' as a prize to the cap'n. He be sorely in need of a cabin boy. Anyways, we shares and shares alike!"

The men roared at that and drank to each other's good fortune. The singing commenced while Mister Rutt continued his inspection of his new cabin boy, turning him around, poking and prodding.

"You'll do, but if ye ken what's good fer ye, you'll be keepin' yer mouth shut and do what yer told. No questions asked. It's nothin' to toss a troublin' bairn overboard. Ye hear me?"

Will nodded, feeling sick to his stomach. He shoved his hand in his pocket, searching for the letter. It calmed him to know it was there, but he wasn't sure how he'd keep his promise now.

After a fitful night of sleep, Will awoke to the voice of Missus Cavender.

"Come on, lad," she said, a gentle tone in her voice. "I'll get ye yer breakfast. The men will be risin' soon."

She set a bundle on the side table and lit the candle.

"I've packed ye some food, washed yer clothes, and cleaned that awful wool coat as best I could."

Will climbed from his bed, his bare feet on the cold floor, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Thank you, Missus," he said, holding back his tears.

He would miss her and the inn. The work was hard, but he felt safe in this place. He did not feel safe knowing where he was going, being pulled away again from everything he knew.

Still, a part of his fear was soothed by a secret excitement. His mother had warned him to stay away from the docks for fear pirates would steal him, but from time to time Will and his friends would sneak to the waterfront and hide to watch the men loading and unloading the goods. They were boisterous and often violent, so unlike his father had been, but their life at sea seemed an adventure to him and the other village boys. They played pirate in the creek behind the school house, waging battles, hunting treasure, and singing shantys they heard at the docks-songs their mothers would never approve.

So Will's fear was mixed with the call of adventure. But when the men took him away, the look on Missus Cavender's face made him wonder if there was something more to worry about than he was aware of.

The s.h.i.+p's cook was a.s.signed the duty of looking after Will, and he put him to work immediately. For hours, alongside the s.h.i.+p's crew, he loaded sacks of food and supplies aboard the s.h.i.+p. Some of the sacks and crates were nearly his own weight, but the sailors cursed him and pushed him out of their way, so he worked hard to look strong, dragging what he couldn't carry.

Once the supplies were aboard, the cook handed him a mop and a pail full of water. Will's arms were so tired from loading the s.h.i.+p he could hardly lift the pail.

"Get to swabbin' the galley floor, lad. They'll be screamin' for their grub soon." The cook grinned at Will's sagging shoulders. "Go on, before the cap'n has ye flogged."

Will dragged himself through the task of was.h.i.+ng the filthy floor. As he shoved the mop under a table, a huge orange tabby cat darted out with a shriek.

"Oh, sorry boy," he said to the indignant cat. He knelt down and put out his hand. The cat flicked his tail and circled Will, finally rubbing his broad face across Will's fingers.

"Well, if that ain't somethin'," said the cook from the doorway. "That cat don't bother with n.o.body. He's a mean b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"What's his name?"

"That's Mog. The only reason we keep the blaggard 'round is his mousin' skills." Heading back to his preparations, he made his voice gruff. "Enough of this bilge-when yer done with that floor, get in here. Supper ain't fixin' itself."

Will dragged the pail to the deck to empty it over the side. He had been below when they set sail, so he stood at the s.h.i.+p's rail, enjoying his first taste of the open sea while the wind cooled the sweat beneath his heavy coat. Since he had boarded the s.h.i.+p, the weather had improved and the sun had warmed the chill from the air. The smell of the sea and the power of the sails moving the vessel across the waves felt like magic to Will, but his pleasure was short lived.

"Boy, what ye be doin' on the deck?" shouted Rutt. "You've work waitin' down below. And speakin' a down below, I'll be seein' ye in me cabin after supper." He laughed a l.u.s.ty laugh and the crewman on deck roared along with him.

"I'll be waitin' me turn," shouted the man at the helm. His claim was echoed by many.

Will wasn't sure what they meant, but he felt exposed and very small as the men leered and taunted him. With aching muscles, he lifted the pail and dumped the dirty water overboard. As he turned to go, a large gull lighted on the s.h.i.+p's rail beside him. He reached out instinctively and stroked its back. The bawdy laugher and joking from the men stopped.

In silence they watched the boy stroke the gull, while another soon alighted beside him. He spoke to the birds in soft tones, hardly noticing the silence that had come over the men.

Knowing the superst.i.tious nature of a s.h.i.+p's crew, Rutt intervened.

"Oy, what did I tell ye? Get below, boy. And ye poxied gits, back to work!"

The men mumbled to one another, glancing at the boy. It took another shout from the mate before they returned to their duties.

The cook was ready to give Will a las.h.i.+ng for his absence, but when the boy looked shaken, he inquired. Will told him what the men said to him and what happened after the gulls visited him. The cook raised his eyebrows. He said no more on the subject, but appeared to be deep in thought. Absentmindedly, he handed Will a knife and pointed to a pile of potatoes waiting to be peeled.

Many days pa.s.sed with the cook keeping Will busy below in the galley and finding excuses to keep Rutt's demands at bay, but the s.h.i.+p's mate was becoming impatient. Whenever Will asked the cook what Mister Rutt wanted with him, the man always found a way to change the subject. Still, it was clear he was worried for Will.

That evening, after the cook served the captain and the rest of the crew ate, the bell rang on deck for all hands. The men grumbled and climbed the stairs to the main deck. The captain stood on the quarterdeck waiting for the men to settle, and Will, nearly asleep on his feet, followed the cook to a place behind the sailors.

"Men, there was rumor in Eastville of traders en route, so there's swag to be had on the morrow or the next. Keep your eyes sharp and your weapons at the ready.

"It has also come to my attention that we've a good omen in our midst. Since he came aboard, the storms have ended, the wind has been brisk, and no illness has followed us to sea. It is my ruling that Will Pennyc.o.c.k is to be protected at all costs until such time as I say otherwise. Look after him in our dealings with the traders."

There was an unusual hush amongst the crew. Normally, at the mention of conquering a trader vessel and the promise of booty, there would have been hoots and cheers. But talk of an omen, and this omen in particular, made them nervous. The first mate was quick to speak, and he struggled to cover his anger at the captain's edict.

"But cap'n, I won the lad fairly. Keepin' me bed warm at night won't bring 'im harm. It'll make 'im a man."

The crowd of sailors snickered.

"You're an a.r.s.e, Mister Rutt. I'll not have my s.h.i.+p's safety endangered by a h.o.r.n.y Scottish dog," said the Captain. "Mister Spiers," he said to the cook, "the boy will remain your responsibility. Keep him safe from these blaggards."

A wave of grumbling flowed through the ranks, but the captain paid it no mind. He headed to his quarters without further discussion. The sailors filed back to their stations and to their cold suppers, but Mister Rutt waited for the cook and his charge to pa.s.s.

Standing at his full six feet, he glared down at the stocky cook. "This is yer doin', Spiers, and I'll no have ye tinkerin' with me affairs. The laddie's mine and I've a right to 'im. I'll be seein' to it. Aye, I promise ye that."

The cook glared back at Rutt and nudged Will ahead toward the door leading down to the galley.

"I'll have ye, Lad. O' that ye can be sure," shouted Mister Rutt.

Will could hardly keep his eyes open. Holding him by the shoulders, the cook gently guided him to his pallet and sat him down. With a sigh, Will fell into the thick pile of empty food sacks.

Yawning wide, he looked up at the cook. "What's Mister Rutt mean when he says he'll have me?"

The cook shrugged his shoulders, "Ain't nothin' for ye to worry about, boy." The cook c.o.c.ked his head, looking at the hem of Will's coat. "What's this?" He tugged at a silver chain hanging from a frayed corner of the garment, and a disk of smooth green stone engraved with a crest slipped out from inside the hem. Will's eyes widened and a smiled lightened his weary features.

"My mother's amulet," he said, reaching for the stone. "She always wore it around her neck. It belonged to her mother, and my grandmother, too."

"That's a fine piece, lad. You'll do well to keep it hidden from the thievin' lot on this s.h.i.+p. I'd a mind to have it meself, but since it was your ma's..."

Before he could finish, Will was fast asleep with the amulet clutched to his chest. The old salt tugged the coat tight around the boy, covering his treasure from the prying eyes of the crew. Not only was it a valuable piece, but from the family crest embossed on the stone, this boy was descended from money and would surely bring a fine ransom.

Will awoke to the sound of a loud explosion and a jolting of the s.h.i.+p. He was still holding his mother's amulet. He kissed it, like he saw her do so many times, and put the chain over his head, tucking it deep beneath his clothing. He ran up the steps to the deck and into the middle of a battle. The pirates' hooks and lines were fastened to a small trader's s.h.i.+p, and with cutla.s.ses, pistols, and pikes they boarded the vessel. Will stood dead still in the doorway, having never witnessed such violence. The crew of the trader fought wildly, but the pirates were merciless, cutting them down with practiced ease. Will gasped as he saw a sailor's cutla.s.s slice through the neck of another man, blood spurting and pouring from the wound, splas.h.i.+ng on the deck. He retched at the sound of the man's cries gurgling through the thick blood and torn meat of his throat. Will closed his eyes, but the sound of death and violence engulfed him. Playing pirate had been a fantasy, but this was real, so real he could smell the putrid stench of death.

"Boy, what are ye doin' on deck? Get below," shouted the cook, securing a thick line to the rail. A moment later, Will heard an ear-shattering blast and the cook collapsed onto the deck.

"Mister Spiers," Will cried, running to his side. The man's shoulder was a blackened and bloodied ma.s.s of meat.

"Get below, boy," he rasped, as he struggled to get to his knees.

"But your shoulder..."

"The cap'n 'll do worse than this if somethin' happens to ye." Another pistol blast came from behind them, striking the mainmast and just missing Will's head. "Begad! Leave me be and get ye below."