Read Online Bound by Decency by Claire Ashgrove - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Claire Ashgrove
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Richard and he had sailed together. Not once, in all their time aboard The Kraken , had they spent time with Stormy. Drake, Alex, and Royce, yes, but the captains of T he Flying Gang hadn’t gained their monstrous reputations by making friends out of their crewmates when they were ashore.
Unless Richard had kept things from him—a possibility that no longer surprised Cain.
“Perhaps you should refresh my memory?”
“Aye. Mayhap I should.” Stormy barked another hoarse laugh. He gave the wheel between his hands a slow half turn and shook his head. “1709, Cain. The year ye signed wit’ Cap’n Jennings an’ set out fer the Spanish wit’ a letter of marque. Ye be fergettin’ the night ye met Richard Grey?”
Cain searched through memories fogged by too many years at sea. He recalled the first ship he’d boarded, knew Richard fought at his side. Visions of lounging with the men beneath the decks, a mug of port in each hand, came easily. Escapades with women, tavern fights after too much punch—all the things that bonded them stood out like a beacon against an onyx sky. But the day he met Richard?
“Ye were comin’ on to the middle watch. Came up from the main ’ atch right into a fight.”
The memory burst to life, and along with it came Cain’s laughter. He’d walked onto the decks to find fists flying and a chorus of foul words. Beneath the main mast , men old enough to be Cain’s father dog-piled on two scrawny men not much younger than himself. He’d reached into the fray, grabbed the first collar he caught, and hauled one of the boys out. Richard, he later learned, as he took catgut to Richard’s forehead. Several months passed before Richard sucked down his pride, ceased his belligerence, and they became friends.
Cain grinned at Stormy. “I’ll be damned. What did you do to set him off?”
“Ain’t what I did.” Stormy’s features hardened. His hands curled more tightly around the thick wooden spokes. “Night afore, I bested ’im at Pharo. Caught ’ im countin’ cards, skewed me bet. He cut me lines that night, an’ I called ’im out. Few o’ the men ’ eard the truth. An’…well…ye walked in on the rest.”
Cain ground his teeth together. Devil’s claws, he’d assumed the brawl began over some misconstrued insult to Richard’s pride. If he had but asked, he would have never befriended the lying cheat. How could he have been so blind? All the harbingers of betrayal now loomed before him like scarlet on a field of snow. Had he been so desperate for a chance at decency that he’d completely misjudged Richard’s character?
He lifted his gaze to the gently flapping vane, high atop the foremast. Indeed, he had. Exhausted by the constant instability of a life of piracy, he’d have struck a bargain with the devil himself if it meant a chance at a home. A place he could return to after weeks at sea, where he could walk amongst the townsfolk, not fearing who might slide a knife into his back. Where he could leave his windows open to catch a seaward breeze and never consider who might slip inside.
His chest constricted, and he closed his eyes to the lost hope. Breathing deeply, he looked once more toward the English shore they’d left behind. The sun peeked above the horizon, turning the sky pale lavender. Home was here now. On The Kraken . In the dung pit of Nassau , where thieves, beggars, and rovers dwelled. He was Cain, not Teddy. Nothing would come from longing.
The low toll of eight bells marked the changing of the watch. As men hastened to tie off ropes and tighten down sails, Cain departed from the aftmost deck. Cleaver would be tending to his kitchens now, and India could benefit from another mug of gingered tea. Especially after the copious amount of arrack she’d consumed. He could only pray that when she awakened, she would not give such freedom to her words again.
Drake would be about as well. Even greater than the need to tend to India was the need to see to
Unless Richard had kept things from him—a possibility that no longer surprised Cain.
“Perhaps you should refresh my memory?”
“Aye. Mayhap I should.” Stormy barked another hoarse laugh. He gave the wheel between his hands a slow half turn and shook his head. “1709, Cain. The year ye signed wit’ Cap’n Jennings an’ set out fer the Spanish wit’ a letter of marque. Ye be fergettin’ the night ye met Richard Grey?”
Cain searched through memories fogged by too many years at sea. He recalled the first ship he’d boarded, knew Richard fought at his side. Visions of lounging with the men beneath the decks, a mug of port in each hand, came easily. Escapades with women, tavern fights after too much punch—all the things that bonded them stood out like a beacon against an onyx sky. But the day he met Richard?
“Ye were comin’ on to the middle watch. Came up from the main ’ atch right into a fight.”
The memory burst to life, and along with it came Cain’s laughter. He’d walked onto the decks to find fists flying and a chorus of foul words. Beneath the main mast , men old enough to be Cain’s father dog-piled on two scrawny men not much younger than himself. He’d reached into the fray, grabbed the first collar he caught, and hauled one of the boys out. Richard, he later learned, as he took catgut to Richard’s forehead. Several months passed before Richard sucked down his pride, ceased his belligerence, and they became friends.
Cain grinned at Stormy. “I’ll be damned. What did you do to set him off?”
“Ain’t what I did.” Stormy’s features hardened. His hands curled more tightly around the thick wooden spokes. “Night afore, I bested ’im at Pharo. Caught ’ im countin’ cards, skewed me bet. He cut me lines that night, an’ I called ’im out. Few o’ the men ’ eard the truth. An’…well…ye walked in on the rest.”
Cain ground his teeth together. Devil’s claws, he’d assumed the brawl began over some misconstrued insult to Richard’s pride. If he had but asked, he would have never befriended the lying cheat. How could he have been so blind? All the harbingers of betrayal now loomed before him like scarlet on a field of snow. Had he been so desperate for a chance at decency that he’d completely misjudged Richard’s character?
He lifted his gaze to the gently flapping vane, high atop the foremast. Indeed, he had. Exhausted by the constant instability of a life of piracy, he’d have struck a bargain with the devil himself if it meant a chance at a home. A place he could return to after weeks at sea, where he could walk amongst the townsfolk, not fearing who might slide a knife into his back. Where he could leave his windows open to catch a seaward breeze and never consider who might slip inside.
His chest constricted, and he closed his eyes to the lost hope. Breathing deeply, he looked once more toward the English shore they’d left behind. The sun peeked above the horizon, turning the sky pale lavender. Home was here now. On The Kraken . In the dung pit of Nassau , where thieves, beggars, and rovers dwelled. He was Cain, not Teddy. Nothing would come from longing.
The low toll of eight bells marked the changing of the watch. As men hastened to tie off ropes and tighten down sails, Cain departed from the aftmost deck. Cleaver would be tending to his kitchens now, and India could benefit from another mug of gingered tea. Especially after the copious amount of arrack she’d consumed. He could only pray that when she awakened, she would not give such freedom to her words again.
Drake would be about as well. Even greater than the need to tend to India was the need to see to
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