Wake of the Perdido Star (44 page)
Read Wake of the Perdido Star Online
Authors: Gene Hackman
Jack regained his composure, “Sorry, mate, meant no insult to youâ'twas the bloke you were talkin' about I was thinkin' must be daft. Totally daft, and a murderer at that.”
Mollified, the storyteller let his comrades guide him back to a table with only a parting remark on the impudence of young sailors these days. Jack apologized again and bought the man and the house a round of drinks, the alcohol quickly dousing all flames of discontent.
Jack returned to his own table and shared the drunk's story with Quince and the others.
“Why in hell would he tell such lies? God's blood, there's enough horror in the world without having to create more. It's those damn survivors from the
Stuyvesant
that have been spreading that slander. Guess they made it back all right.”
Stuyvesant
that have been spreading that slander. Guess they made it back all right.”
“Could be,” said Paul. “But it might not be all bad to have the reputation of a devil when you're considering doing a raid on hell. And Cuba is the closest thing to hell we'll find in this world.”
“Aye. Sometimes the fear of a pirate can accomplish more than the man in his flesh,” said Quince. The others nodded but Jack was still disturbed at what his name had become. There was real fear in the eyes of the men who heard the sailor's story.
When the bar emptied somewhat, Jack asked the bartender, a man apparently of English extraction, if he knew any more of this O'Reilly character.
The man told him not to worry. “I hear he's actually in these
parts and has cut some deal to get his ship overhauled. He pirated one from the Dutch but they're kinda' close-mouthed about itâthey musta' been up to no good when he jumped 'em. That's why he's such a topic of conversation hereaboutsâdon't get famous pirates in the area too often. But you won't be seeing him around among civilized folk. Anyways, his days are numbered. There's one of his majesty's men-o'-war been alerted and will be cruising the harbor any day now. Yeah, the HMS
Respite
, that's what I think I heard someone say.”
parts and has cut some deal to get his ship overhauled. He pirated one from the Dutch but they're kinda' close-mouthed about itâthey musta' been up to no good when he jumped 'em. That's why he's such a topic of conversation hereaboutsâdon't get famous pirates in the area too often. But you won't be seeing him around among civilized folk. Anyways, his days are numbered. There's one of his majesty's men-o'-war been alerted and will be cruising the harbor any day now. Yeah, the HMS
Respite
, that's what I think I heard someone say.”
“Aye, thanks keeper, I feel safer now. I have a ship myself I'd like to have unloaded in the harbor. No telling what a man like that might do.”
“Nah, mate, you're all right. O'Reilly would be crazy to stay in these parts for any time. He's got all the navies in the Pacific lookin' for 'im. Hell, the English is the most worried. They figure he might surface and get a letter of marque from the Americans.”
“The Americans?”
The bartender stared at him.
“You have been away, lad. America and the Brits are working themselves up for another scrap.”
“Old sod, a lot has transpired in our absence,” remarked Paul.
He and Jack had rigged their hammocks topside near the helm, a quiet, breezy place when at anchor. As Jack didn't respond, Paul continued. “Seems like the world has kept on turning while we've been having our adventures. You'd think God would have been so distracted by our doings that he wouldn't have time for the carryings-on of mere nation-states.”
“Yeah, I guess. . . .” Then, “Bollocks! I just don't believe it.”
“Eh, sire?”
“Eat the heads! Can you believe it? Who could have thought up such rubbish?”
“Oh, fiddle-faddle, what's a few eaten heads amongst pirates?” Paul turned in his hammock and took a more serious tone. “It's the business about the English that interests me.”
“That's no big surprise,” Jack said. “The British never have gotten over our tussle some years back and have been doing all kinds of provocative thingsâand, well, the letter of marque, you know . . . they figure the Americans are going to license whatever citizens they can to raise hell with their commerce.”
“Citizens, my arse, Jack. They're going to issue letters to the meanest sons of murder and mayhem out there, aargh! The Morgans, the Black Jackâ”
There was a loud thump as Jack kicked Paul out of his hammock, onto the deck.
“See! See there, O'Reilly! What civilized person would have done a thing like that?”
“Go to sleep,” Jack murmured as Paul crawled back into his netting. “Good night.”
“Good night yourself.” Pause. “Head-eater.”
There was no response from the other hammock.
T
HE CREWS OF MOST ships tended to hang together when they were in strange ports, and this was especially true of the men of the
Star
. They had, after all, shared storms, shipwreck, survival, a life among savages, and a series of violent confrontations that had ended in their being branded pirates. What had been the half-whimsical creation of the Brotherhood of the Shipwrecked Men of the
Star
had taken on a surprising reality.
HE CREWS OF MOST ships tended to hang together when they were in strange ports, and this was especially true of the men of the
Star
. They had, after all, shared storms, shipwreck, survival, a life among savages, and a series of violent confrontations that had ended in their being branded pirates. What had been the half-whimsical creation of the Brotherhood of the Shipwrecked Men of the
Star
had taken on a surprising reality.
The Belaurans, dark and barbaric-looking to the European eye, had become blood brothers to this strange group of Americans, and even Cheatum and Smithers bristled at affronts to any of the shipmates, including Jack. They had considered killing Jack themselves, of course, but that was a family dispute, as even Jack knew, and they stood by him when dealing with threats from others.
The men had been enjoying the delights of Manila in groups of three to four, depending on their taste in rum, women, or both. Quince told Jack that he wanted to rein the crew back in so they
could start concentrating on the future. Thus it happened that on the end of the first fortnight in Manila he made the entire crew gather for drinks at the Pink Orchid, an elegant inn Paul had selected which catered to wealthy foreign merchants and traders.
could start concentrating on the future. Thus it happened that on the end of the first fortnight in Manila he made the entire crew gather for drinks at the Pink Orchid, an elegant inn Paul had selected which catered to wealthy foreign merchants and traders.
Even dressed in their finest clothes, the men of the
Star
were clearly not ready for the class distinctions in a place like the Orchid. The establishment housed as much drink and prostitution as the waterfront bars, but its clientele was awash in self-importance and status.
Star
were clearly not ready for the class distinctions in a place like the Orchid. The establishment housed as much drink and prostitution as the waterfront bars, but its clientele was awash in self-importance and status.
The evening got off to an inauspicious start, for the presence of Quen-Li was immediately challenged. Luckily, the Belaurans had chosen to stay shipboard that night, or their welcome would have been even cooler.
Quince, dressed in his blue officer's cloak stolen from the
Stuyvesant
, was in an expansive mood. He placed his massive left arm in a friendly manner about the neck of the concierge, showed him the bright new hook on his right hand, and explained with utmost sincerity that Quen-Li was his twin brother and a British nobleman. If the proprietor cared to question the issue further, Quince would, he said, insert his shiny new hook into the man's rectum, pull out his intestines, and loop them around his cravat. He and his diminutive brother were able to read innards as some men read tea leaves. They would forecast the concierge's future without charge, since it would be a short one.
Stuyvesant
, was in an expansive mood. He placed his massive left arm in a friendly manner about the neck of the concierge, showed him the bright new hook on his right hand, and explained with utmost sincerity that Quen-Li was his twin brother and a British nobleman. If the proprietor cared to question the issue further, Quince would, he said, insert his shiny new hook into the man's rectum, pull out his intestines, and loop them around his cravat. He and his diminutive brother were able to read innards as some men read tea leaves. They would forecast the concierge's future without charge, since it would be a short one.
A glance at the crew of the
Star
as they mingled in the foyer convinced the man of the correctness of Quince's logic, and for the next two hours things went smoothly enough, though a few of the guests asked to have their tables moved, away from the Brotherhood.
Star
as they mingled in the foyer convinced the man of the correctness of Quince's logic, and for the next two hours things went smoothly enough, though a few of the guests asked to have their tables moved, away from the Brotherhood.
Charlene was actually the source of the real trouble, Jack was to opine later. She was a woman of questionable grace but unquestionable mean-spiritedness, inhabiting one of the more active gaming tables. Klett, the
Star'
s good-natured but slow-witted giant, was immediately taken with her beauty and vivaciousness;
she was immediately taken with the target the big man offered for ridicule and abuse. Her green and purple dress with raised bodice bordered on the obscene, as did many of her mannerisms. Her hair was pinned tightly with a gold band except for the loose curls she let bounce off her face in studied carelessness. She had some education and was quick to flaunt it to the delight of several male companions. All of Klett's awkward attempts at conversation were met with barbs that kept her associates laughing.
Star'
s good-natured but slow-witted giant, was immediately taken with her beauty and vivaciousness;
she was immediately taken with the target the big man offered for ridicule and abuse. Her green and purple dress with raised bodice bordered on the obscene, as did many of her mannerisms. Her hair was pinned tightly with a gold band except for the loose curls she let bounce off her face in studied carelessness. She had some education and was quick to flaunt it to the delight of several male companions. All of Klett's awkward attempts at conversation were met with barbs that kept her associates laughing.
When Klett's mind wrapped around a clear, useful concept, he guarded it with uncommon loyalty; Jack had seen this many times. The world was a place that held its share of confusion and Klett resented people who said things to unsettle accepted principles. The big Scandinavian had a respect for the intellect of Paul Le Maire that bordered on awe. Although he would quarrel over minor issues with the young manâand though he was the occasional butt of Paul's ironyâhe took as gospel Paul's pronouncements of a scientific or metaphysical nature. Paul, in turn, had a warm spot for the big man and would come to his aid if he thought someone was victimizing his friend.
The critical point of contention came when one of Charlene's male friends referred to China as the Far East. An innocent enough assertion in most circumstances, but it confused and annoyed Klett. Paul had said on several occasions that they were heading west from the islands, toward China.
Klett turned to the dandy, “Sir, you must be mistaken. I am a sailor these many years and am quite certain China is west of here and should not be referred to as the Far East.”
“Charlene,” the man said. “Did you hear that? Can you believe this oaf?”
There followed several comments in which Charlene quoted lines from some of the better known works of Shakespeare. Paul caught the last few. Seeing Klett's increasing discomfort and noting for the first time that Jack was standing quietly in a corner throughout the exchange, he thought it time to defuse the disagreement.
Jack's face was a barometer for storms best heeded; in the last few moments his easy smile had been replaced with that dark, intense look that too often preceded ominous events.
Jack's face was a barometer for storms best heeded; in the last few moments his easy smile had been replaced with that dark, intense look that too often preceded ominous events.
Paul brushed by several of Charlene's admirers, to a point from which he could place his arm about Klett's shoulder.
“Come hither, my friend, there are gay people in this room more deserving of your company. Fret not over the cruel croaks of these foppish frogs nor the sharp-tongued, dull-witted lass who shares their swamp. Her poor grasp of the bard is equaled only by the poor grasp of her girdle. I fear you may, in future, repeat some of her malapropisms and lose your reputation for repartee.”
“Well I never!” gasped one of the powder-wigged prigs. “You illmannered young jackanape.”
“Perhaps I am a jackanape, but I don't ridicule well-meaning strangers. You've had your fun and may continue entertaining yourselves at someone else's expense. It should not prove too taxing, since boors are usually easily amused by each other.”
A large, heavily built man, who had been at the fringe of the group of revelers, stepped forward. “And what if I lay a fist in your impudent mouth?”
As if explaining to a child, Paul said, “What if, indeed? I suspect that a moment after you silenced my impudent mouth, Klett here would pound you into a pile of haughty British dog offal, speckled in red. Or worse, my friend in the corner would lose the battle he has been waging for the past fifteen minutes with his murderous disposition, and carve you and your wigged friend like a Christmas goose.”
Both the massive man and the prig looked toward the corner, whereupon their expressions mellowed. Even Paul was somewhat surprised at the dramatic, dampening effect Jack had on the men's rising tempers. It struck him that he had never seen such a dangerous-looking character, and Jack was just nineteen. Indeed, his friend had changed. His sun-bronzed, powerful frame, now grown to a height of six feet two inches, could not be hidden by
the delicate clothes. His stance was as relaxed and alert as a cat's and his eyes burned through a potential foe as if observing vermin teetering on the edge of mortality. The men turned and ambled off with a parting comment about “speaking to the management about the lower class of people being let into the establishment.”
the delicate clothes. His stance was as relaxed and alert as a cat's and his eyes burned through a potential foe as if observing vermin teetering on the edge of mortality. The men turned and ambled off with a parting comment about “speaking to the management about the lower class of people being let into the establishment.”
Few outside the immediate area of the gaming tables had noted the incident, and those who did went back to what they were doing. Paul led Klett to a table where men from the
Star
were heavily into their drinks, entertaining each other merrily. He shoved Klett down at the table and asked Hansum and Coop if they would kindly get him involved in a backgammon game. He, by Jove, wanted his friend to enjoy one of the few opportunities at civilized society without any further chance of mayhem. But when Paul sat at a smaller table with Quince and Mentor, he found he was going to have to deal with an angry Jack.
Star
were heavily into their drinks, entertaining each other merrily. He shoved Klett down at the table and asked Hansum and Coop if they would kindly get him involved in a backgammon game. He, by Jove, wanted his friend to enjoy one of the few opportunities at civilized society without any further chance of mayhem. But when Paul sat at a smaller table with Quince and Mentor, he found he was going to have to deal with an angry Jack.
“Damn you, Le Maire, I'm not murderous,” his friend hissed.
Other books
My Autobiography by Charles Chaplin
Love Makes the Difference (Sully Point Book 1) by Smith, Nicole
Blood Rush (Blood Breed #2) by Snow, Jenika
Let Me Finish by Roger Angell
Aerogrammes by Tania James
Love Ain't Nothing but Sex Misspelled by Harlan Ellison
Muertos de papel by Alicia Giménez Bartlett
What Can I Do When Everything's On Fire?: A Novel by Antunes, António Lobo
Drive by Gioertz, Karina
Untamed: An Alpha's Promise (Paranormal Werewolf Shifter Romance) by Glass, Evelyn
