The Dust of 100 Dogs - A. S. King [60]
“Great view from the balcony,” he said, pointing at the sliding doors. “Come down when you’re hungry. We can cook up any time of day, mon.” He took a loud hit from the enormous spliff in his hand and blew the sweet-smelling smoke from his nose.
“Thanks,” I said, looking out to sea, still half frozen with doubt.
“I hope you don’t mind good reggae, girl. We love our roots here, ya know.”
“Yeah, that’s fine, thanks,” I managed.
When he closed the door, I locked it behind him and sat down on the bed. Every part of me wanted to burst into miserable tears, but instead I emptied my duffel bag on the quilted bedspread and looked at my stuff. I unfolded the army shovel and stared at myself in the mirror again, waiting to catch a glimpse of the woman who’d dragged me here—but all I saw was some skinny kid from Hollow Ford who was fooling herself.
Emer looked the three hungry recruits up and down. “So, you’re saving for a ship of your own, then, are you?”
The three men were still adjusting to Emer’s breasts—beneath her blouse, but visible for the first time in over a year. They looked over at David as if he had asked the question, but David kept his eyes fixed on his captain.
One man nodded. The other two still looked at David.
“Now, tell me about this ‘savings.’ I’m sure you lads have plenty of stories about it. Let’s hear them.”
“We haven’t much, um, ma’am.”
“Sir. I’m your captain. You call me sir.”
“Sir.”
“You haven’t much compared to what? Compared to us? Compared to the Spanish?”
“We haven’t much compared to the price of a ship, sir.”
“David says you brag of a spot near Havana—a spot to cruise for Spanish?”
The three men looked at each other, dumbfounded.
“You know, Captain won’t hesitate to kill you,” David said.
One man piped up. “We followed a small fleet last September.”
“West of Havana?” Emer asked.
“About seventy miles southwest, sir.”
“And then what?”
“We just followed them. We were working a slave ship. We were on our way to Havana as well.”
“A slave ship?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you as cruel as all that? I don’t think you are, somehow.”
“We left that ship as soon as we got to Havana, sir. Slaving wasn’t for us.” The other two men shook their heads in agreement.
“So what of the Spanish fleet?”
“Well, uh, Michael here saw them unloading many crates of gold, sir, and gems.”
She turned to Michael. “You saw these gems?”
He nodded.
“Did you see the gems?”
The talking man answered. “No, sir. I only knew from Michael about the gems. But I did see much gold, and many jeweled rings on the officer’s fingers. I do not doubt the fleet is heavy with such things on its way back to Spain.”
“How many were there?”
“About fifteen in all. Mostly galleons and frigates. I counted over thirty cannons on a typical galleon, twenty on the frigates.”
“Twenty, eh? I’d say that slows them down a bit, carrying so much iron.”
“They beat us to port anyway, sir, and we had but a ship of slaves with no guns at all.”
Emer shivered. “Enough about slaves. Let’s not mention them again.”
“Yes, sir.”
She sat still and thought for a minute. Fifteen ships, an average of twenty cannons each. That was three hundred guns in total. “Three hundred guns? What a fight that would be! And you think you could take them with a ship your savings can buy? Surely even idiots like you must have a better plan than that.”
The man stayed silent and looked back at David.
“Stop looking at David! Your own mouth has put you here, understand! I would have no reason to ask you any of this had it not been for your jabbering.”
“We hoped to recruit other ships and form a fleet, sir.”
“Go on.”
“We hoped to recruit pirates in Port Royal and Roatan. We hoped to get back to Tortuga and find willing buccaneers to join us. So many people here hate the Spanish. We think it will be easy to find them.”
Emer tapped her lips with her fingers. “Seventy miles southwest of Havana, eh?”
“Aye, sir.”
“And what would I see if I cruised there now?”
“The Spanish