Chapter 111: Packing the Rose for War
News like that never stayed trapped inside four walls. By the time James returned to the Rose, Nassau already knew a King’s warship waited with a fortune behind her. They had already started to fight over who would get the chance to rob her.
Outside a chandler’s shop, he watched two honest men trade punches over a berth aboard a flea-bitten schooner that couldn’t have outrun a fishing smack in calm seas. Neither of them owned a blade worth boasting about, but it did not matter.
The chance to say you’d sailed against the King’s own colors was enough to make fools fight for it, even if the biggest weapon either had ever fired was a flintlock.
"Christ."
James watched the loser spit blood into the sand, then laugh through a split lip. "Ye’d think somebody was handin’ out free rum."
That very day, he sent a schooner west toward Concordia and whatever stretch of water Bonnet had the Fortune that week. Better for her to head straight to the ambush stage and meet the rest of them there without wasting days doubling back.
Before she sailed, he had the messenger fly a scrap of the Rose’s own colors, the crimson rose stitched inside the skull’s grinning teeth.
That should keep Mary from mistaking an honest courier for a worthwhile target, or so James hoped they’d recognize the flag before they trusted their own judgment. Some lass quick enough to load and fire before most men finished blinking was not someone he wanted studying an unfamiliar sail through a gun sight.
The Rose herself needed no frantic preparations. She already had her full crew of eighty men, and every last one of them seemed eager to trade a month of honest work for something considerably more dangerous.
Kit took the news as though Christmas had arrived early and brought a battle with it.
"A King’s ship, Cap’n? A big one? I’ll have meself a story worth tellin’ the rest o’ me natural life!"
"You’ll have yourself a story if ye survive it, lad."
James shot him a look. "Corpses don’t tell many tales."
That did not seem to trouble Kit in the slightest.
Before sunset, Cudjoe somehow acquired four more cannons for the Rose.
James never learned the whole story. From what he understood, Caesar’s fists had done far more to the negotiation than anyone’s tongue.
"Left one made the proposal." Cudjoe did not smile. "Right one closed it."
Whoever owned those cannons had not come out of the bargain badly, either. Good guns were expensive and difficult to replace unless someone captured them or found a willing seller on the black market.
Even so, a share of whatever the Rose stripped from their marks cost the fellow nothing he had not already been willing to risk. Some guns sitting idle this week might as well earn their keep aboard the maddest ship in the harbor.
Twenty-eight guns now, along with two mortars. James liked those numbers a great deal better than the ones waiting aboard the ship they meant to attack.
Even a man who rarely dwelled on how his own story might end could not ignore the pressure of a King’s warship. Fifty guns spread across two decks, every one cast in some industrial foundry, supplied with quality powder, and served by men drilled until every movement became habit instead of thought.
The Rose had nothing close to that kind of order.
Eighteen guns had belonged to her from the beginning. The mortars and several others had once rested in a Spanish arsenal before finding their way through a corrupt colonial officer who valued silver above loyalty. The newest four had probably spent their entire lives aboard somebody else’s sloop until that very afternoon.
Every cannon had its own temperament, its own pace, and its own favorite moment to misfire.
The Falmouth would suffer none of those problems. She would load, aim, and fire with the steady rhythm of a marching drum, then keep doing it long after lesser crews had begun praying.
A thicker hull felt appealing at first. Then James let the thought run a little farther.
Ships rarely died because their sides were too thin. They died because they lost their speed, some shattered mast and rigging torn apart. A vessel left drifting helplessly while an enemy twice her size took their sweet time to decide how to finish her.
He found an empty place belowdecks where only his own thoughts could overhear him.
"Show me what’s on offer, the Reinforced Hull. I’d like the cost before I decide how much I hate it."
⚓ [FATE SHOP - PROVIDENCE]
Reinforced Hull
Iron-banded timber and seasoned oak fitted seamlessly into the Rose’s frame, as though they had always been there. She would endure considerably more punishment before noticing she was taking any.
Cost : 150 Fate
You have ninety Fate. I feel obligated to point out that ninety is a good deal less than one hundred and fifty, in case the difference wasn’t obvious to you.
"It’s troublin’ me plenty, thanks."
James watched the cost for another moment before realizing he’d asked the wrong question.
"Forget the full hull. What’ll ninety buy me if I stop thinkin’ in wholes? Thirty on masts and riggin’. The other sixty on the side most likely to take a broadside."
The answer took longer than usual.
That is, against all reasonable expectation, a considerably more sensible request than the one you just abandoned. I am almost disappointed. Almost.
⚓ [FATE SHOP - PROVIDENCE]
War-Rigged Masts
Doubled stays, reinforced mast steps, and shot-plugged spars fitted throughout the Rose, built to keep her standing and under sail long after a lesser ship’s rigging has already gone over the side.
Cost : 30 Fate
⚓ [FATE SHOP - PROVIDENCE]
Starboard Hull Reinforcement
Iron backing, doubled frames, and additional oak bracing worked into the Rose’s starboard side where enemy broadsides were most likely to strike. It would not make her a ship of the line, but it would give the hull a better chance of surviving the punishment.
Cost : 60 Fate
"That’ll do nicely."
Ninety Fate deducted in full. Your balance now stands at zero. I note this only because you specifically asked me not to let you spend it all on a chicken. Instead, you have spent every last point on rope and timber.
James looked up at the low deck overhead and grinned.
"Rope’s saved more ships than chickens ever have."
I withdraw the objection. Barely.
Two hundred Fate waited on the far side of this fight, assuming he survived to claim it. Ninety felt like a fair wager for those odds.
🏴 [BLOODY ROSE - STATUS]
Hull Condition : Excellent
Armament : 28 Broadside Cannons, 2 Mortars
Gunpowder Supply : 30 Casks
Provisions : 18 Days
Crew : 80 / 80
Morale : High
Loyalty : Steadfast
Perks: [The Rose’s Luck], [True Shot], [War-Rigged Masts], [Starboard Hull Reinforcement]
I would describe the preparations as thorough. I would also point out that this is the most Fate you have ever spent preparing for a single battle, which suggests either impressive instincts or dreadful odds. I have yet to determine which.
By the time the tide turned in their favor, nearly every ship in Nassau’s harbor had put forward some sort of contribution to the hunt, if only to brag about it. Some offered full crews and loaded broadsides while others contributed one drunk fool sitting in a rowboat he insisted was seaworthy.
The schooner sent west never returned, exactly as planned. If Bonnet received the message in time, the Fortune would meet them off the Bahama Channel without either ship wasting precious days sailing back and forth. If the message failed to reach him, James would deal with that problem once it stopped being a possibility and became reality.
For now, a convoy sailed somewhere beyond the horizon, racing the storm season every sailor in Nassau was watching. Together a King’s man o’ war waited, the guardian of a fortune neither side had much business surviving.
James found himself looking forward to discovering which one was wrong.