Chapter 149: A Fine Way to Start a Rumor
James let the silence sit for a moment before breaking it himself.
The grin crept back across his face, whatever had been sitting beneath it vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Christ, a man can’t misplace a pile of old stones on this whole island without half the Caribbean hearin’ of it by suppertime."
He shook his head. "Hoped that one might keep a wee while longer. Only true tale to ever come out of Concordia, and not a soul believes it."
"Then it is true?"
"Aye, true enough."
James rolled his cup between his fingers, then set it down.
"Found it by accident, scoutin’ the swamp on the far side with Mark..
"And what did you find there?"
Mateo leaned forward, curious, yet with some apprehension.
"Old ruins, and a great door with a serpent carved round it."
James paused. "Inside, gold, plus jade carved into little figures, plus obsidian, sharp as the day some heathen hand first shaped it."
Adrienne’s eyes narrowed.
"And the danger, monsieur. You would not tell it this plain if there had been none."
"Oh lass, there is danger."
James did not bother making it prettier than it was. "Took somethin’ off a stone where it’d sat a good long while, and the whole chamber sealed itself round us with enough poison gas to choke a man breathin’ it. Mark and I barely made those ruins our grave.
The room went quiet.
Fenwick’s expression tightened. Whitlock’s quill stopped dead against the page.
"And since," Isaiah said, "has anyone been hurt down there?"
"A few."
James met his eyes. "One lad’s leg got crushed when a stretch of passage came down on him. Hobbs set it, cursed the poor bastard the whole while, as he curses every man fool enough to need him."
A few mouths twitched at that, but James continued before anyone could laugh. "Another breathed in enough of that poison to keep him retchin’ in his bed near a week after. Mended on his own, given time."
He shrugged. "It costs somethin’ every time we go back down, and there’s no end in sight neither. There’s a camp out past the pines and the lads go when the town can spare ’em, and there’s no hurry to any of it. Last hurry near cost me my own neck."
Mateo sat back, the wonder gone from his face. "My people will not go near it, Captain. An accursed temple, and gold that was never blessed for Christian hands."
"Can’t fault a man for that."
Fenwick shrugged.
"Gold I can’t plant nor eat’s no use to me anyhow."
He had nothing more to say.
Behind the table, Thatch had gone alert in a way that did not suit him at all.
His eyes were bright as a dog that had just caught the scent of barbecue ribs he meant to steal before anyone else got a taste of it.
"Gold and a curse both."
He leaned forward over his crossed arms.
"Christ, Calloway, and you never thought to mention it before now."
Sam clicked his tongue, a slower hunger in him. He wanted the whole story more than the coin waiting at the end of it.
"Some ruins older than any flag that’s ever sailed these waters. I’d give a season’s takings just to lay eyes on that door myself."
Bonnet, meanwhile, hopped with a polite thirsty for adventure, "Captain, I do hope a gentleman might be permitted a look before the season’s out. I have never in my life seen ruins such as these, and I confess the notion delights me a very great deal."
Isaiah waited for them, and then continued. "I have known plenty of men call a thing cursed, right up until the moment they wanted it kept for themselves."
He spoke plainly, certain of every word. "I would judge what is down there once I have seen it myself. Frightened men whisper plenty, and whispers have never once been proof of anything."
Across the room, Mary’s eyes found James’s.
They held for the length of a breath.
Nobody else in the room knew what lay behind that look, and James let it pass without answering.
A town with trouble enough for one afternoon did not need frightening on top of it. Word had a habit of growing teeth once it reached ears with no business hearing it, and James had no intention of feeding it more than he already had.
Adrienne watched him a moment too long.
"Is that truly the whole of it, Captain?"
"Aye."
James grinned, easy as anything.
"Every last word, save whatever I’m keepin’ back for the day I need a favor off you lot."
That got the laugh he wanted.
The room let the matter drop, worn too thin by the afternoon to go chasing after it.
Whitlock closed his record book with a soft snap.
"The Captain’s account is recorded as given, and complete enough for my own book."
He laid his quill beside it.
"Whether it’s complete enough for the truth, I’ll leave to better judges than myself."
More than one head turned toward him.
Whitlock did not bother to talk again.
The five of them would take the decisions back to their own people. Each would explain what had been agreed that afternoon, how the assembly would work from then on, and what the new laws and rules meant for those under his care. It would take a few days, but by the end of it there would be no household in Concordia left wondering what had changed.
Chairs scraped back.
Whitlock gathered his papers into a neat stack. Bonnet was already asking Sam whether tomorrow might suit for an expedition of their own.
Outside, word of the meeting’s end traveled faster than the room itself could empty.
By the time the last chair found its place against the wall, Briggs had the tavern door standing open again, rum and tallow and old sweat rolling back in on the evening air.
Doyle came through first, a fresh bottle already uncorked. Greasy Pete followed close behind, arguing with nobody in particular about whose turn it was to buy the first round.