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lives.
Then ya saved the
Connie from the slavers, so we owe you half the cargo. Put
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it, you want to stake a claim on the
Connie
I have to agree, on my oath I do."
"Bosun!" a sailor shouted in shock. "Ya giving away the
Connie
?"
Jones turned on the taller man, and he backed away. "That's 'captain' to you,
O'Malley. And if I say die, you say how-often-sir, natch?"
"Yeah, I understand, Captain," the man mumbled, lowering his gaze.
Turning, the short man scowled darkly at the companions, then spoke to Ryan
directly. "Say she's your ship. What's the deal? We work as crew or get
marooned?"
"No," Ryan said, cutting the air with his hand. "We came here by accident and
only want to leave."
"Soon as possible," J.B. added bluntly.
Captain Jones snorted. "Ship broken, eh? Waddaya need, wood, canvas, rope? Got
plenty of that. Take what ya want."
"We need shine," Ryan said, resting a boot on a layered fold of canvas.
"Couple of gallons of wine would do, even beer, or some copper pipe to make
our own. Get us that, and the
Connie is yours."
The sailors murmured among themselves while Jones chewed over the amazing
request, his face going through a variety of expressions.
"Any alcohol or juice in the lanterns?" Dean asked, gesturing at a hanging
lamp.
"Juice in a lamp, boy? Don't be daft. It's fish oil," Jones said as if it were
obvious.
"Smells bad down below, but gives good light. Got lots, if that's any help."
Jak shook his head. "No way."
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"Shine to fix a ship," Jones said, cracking his knuckles. "Black dust, we've
got nothing like that on board. Drunk sailors fall overboard. Now the ville
had plenty, that's what they gave us to celebrate finishing the work. We drank
every drop and woke up in chains. More fools we for trusting villagers. If ya
don't walk wood, then ya ain't worth spit, as Captain Fallon used ta say. God
rest him."
After a moment, Jones continued. "Now Lord Baron Kinnison has got lots of
predark machines, some of them even work. He'd have that copper ya need. But I
can't take no man there. Oh, I thought about it. There's a powerful reward for
outlanders. But once he knows ya got rapidfires, he'll skin ya alive to find
out where they come from! And I can't risk the lives of any man who saved my
crew.
That's the first thing I'm paying you back. Your lives."
"Mebbe we could reason with him," Krysty asked. "Cut a deal."
"With the lord bastard?" A sailor laughed, then abruptly stopped to grasp his
ribs.
"Better chance of arguing cold to fire," he finished, wheezing for breath.
Mildred knew the man had broken ribs, possibly a punctured lung from the sound
of his breathing. But she could do nothing until some sort of treaty had been
negotiated. Politics was always getting in the way of medicine.
"No, can't take ya there," Jones went on, crossing his arms, displaying a
wealth of crude tattoos. "Got plenty of shine at our home port, Cold Harbor
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ville. Shine so strong it'll knock the stink off a mutie. Probably make your
other eye fall out."
Instantly Ryan felt the red anger well from within, the unbridled urge to
chill everybody. But then he saw the sailor holding back a grin, and forced
himself to be calm. Fireblast, the runt had been testing him! In spite of
himself, Ryan was starting to like the man. He was hard and direct. Somebody
they could trust, for a while, at least.
"If that's what melted you down to this size, pee-wee," Ryan shot back, "then
it'll do."
Jones sputtered in rage while the other sailors burst into laughter. The short
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nds%2053%20-%20Savage%20Armada.html captain grabbed the curved butt of a
flintlock, paused, slowly took his hand away and reluctantly cracked a grin.
"Okay, Ryan, you want shine, then by God, I'll drown ya in it! We'll take ya
to our home port, pack the hold with the oldest shine, best in town, steal it
from the gaudy house if needs be and take ya back here. Then you're on your
own and we're quits. Fair Steven to the nine. Agreed?"
Ryan wasn't sure what that last phrase meant, had to be something local, but
the tone carried the ring of truth.
"Deal," Ryan said, and he held out his hand. However, Captain Jones raised a
hand to stop him. "Not so fast," he said quickly. "There's something I need
from you folks in return. Gimme an oath you'll fight alongside us in case of
trouble.
These villagers caught us asleep. But there's pirate ships out there that raid
these islands. Sleek windjammers armed with our own cannons. We're big, but
they're fast. Those fancy rapidfires might make them think twice, mebbe go try
some other ship." The new captain spit in his own palm, then held it out.
"That's the deal. Shine and two trips, for your blasters at our backs, both
ways and in port.
Deal?"
"Fair Steven," Ryan said, repeating the earlier phrase, and saw the reactions
in their faces. The trade was sealed.
Just then, a lone seagull flew by cawing for its mate. The companions flinched
at the sight of the bird, reaching for their blasters, and Jones
surreptitiously noted the fact. Obviously they had tangled with the condors of
Spider Island. That had to be where their ship was moored. How interesting.
"What should we do first, sir?" a sailor asked, holding a dirty rag to his
shoulder.
"Check the hull for leaks? She hit that sandbar awful hard."
"I can do that. It's you sons of bitches I'm worried about," Jones stated,
looking over the crew. "Where's Danvers?"
"The healer tried to run," a big man said. When speaking, he displayed a lot
of missing teeth. "The locals gut shot him."
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"Blasted coward," Jones growled. "Served him right. Okay, O'Malley, you're the
new healer."
"Me?" the sailor asked, startled.
"You. Get busy binding wounds."
"Aye, aye, skipper," O'Malley said hesitantly.
"I'm a healer," Mildred said, patting her med kit. "Best you'll ever find."
Jones scowled at the stocky outlander with her bizarre hairdo. "Then get to
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work, woman! My crew is bleeding while we jaw."
"I'll need a private room to sterilize," Mildred said. "Some of those wounds
are deep and will need stitches, maybe even minor surgery. I want the
captain's cabin as sick bay."
Jones glanced at the quarterdeck and noted the stairs were gone. It had to
have been a hell of a fight, he realized. These outlanders were good.
"Do whatever you want, take whatever you need," he said wearily.
"Mildred, I'll start boiling water and ripping any clean cloth I can find,"
Krysty offered, starting to reach for her backpack. Gaia, those were in the
bushes behind the ville. "Where's the galley?"
"Boiling water?" a sailor grunted, a knife jutting from his thigh. "We're not
making soup."
"Shut up! Don't walk or touch the knife. You two, carry that man," Mildred
ordered, starting off across the long deck and around the huge mound of the
downed mainsail. She had no intention of trying to explain the existence of
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