Chapter 138: A Fragile Sort of Peace
The pier took the four ships without so much as a groan, which was better manners than the last dock the town had owned. Some new pilings stretched twice as far as James remembered and the decking was broad enough for two men to carry a cask shoulder to shoulder without one knocking the other into the sea.
Around, cleats lined the whole length as though whoever built the place had expected an evening just like this, four ships tying up together instead of fighting over one miserable stretch of half-finished dock like they would have a month and a half ago.
The gangplanks had scarcely thumped onto the planks before cargo nets were swinging overhead.
Some lanterns sprang to life along the pier while the evening burned down behind the trees like the last red coal in a fire. Sailors from four different crews crossed paths, bumped shoulders, traded tempers, and crowded the place till there hardly seemed room for another boot.
James nearly pitched headfirst over a coil of rope some fool had left square in the walkway, catching himself on a piling with a curse that fit well enough with the rest.
He stepped onto planks that still had the scent of fresh pine, with sawdust not yet weathered gray, and found Mateo waiting at the foot of the dock.
Mateo caught him by the forearm with a grip that said more than his eyes, pulling him halfway into an embrace before letting go.
"Captain." His voice cracked on the word. "You are here."
"Aye, I’m here."
James kept hold of his arm a moment longer and looked him over. There were dark marks beneath Mateo’s eyes that hadn’t been there when he’d sailed away, and the man’s hands wouldn’t keep still now that they were free, fingers forever twitching at his sides.
"And ye look like a man that’s forgotten what sleep is. Out with it, what’s put that look on ye?"
Mateo let out a deep, resigned breath of exhaustion.
"Word travels, Captain. Faster than any ship."
He shook his head. "Since you sailed, more people arrived. Small groups, mostly, every week or sometimes every few days."
"How many’s ’more’ by now?"
"I do not know, it is hard for me to count. More than two hundred, I imagine."
Mateo’s mouth tried for a smile and gave up halfway. "After that I only worried about trouble."
"And what sort of trouble’s that, my good man?"
He ticked them off on his fingers like he was reading cargo from a manifest. "The people, some run from plantations, you could still see chains marked on their wrists when they step ashore."
James gave a slow nod. That much he’d expected.
"Some are sailors with no captain and no war left to pay them. Peace has little use for men who only know fighting."
Mateo rubbed a hand over his face before going on. "The British families lose everything to poor land or poorer landlords and come hunting for ground they can call their own, and the Spanish, and a few French that escaped from quarrels farther up the coast."
He let the last words hang between them a moment.
"Nobody has burned anything yet, but nobody much wants to wait and see who starts."
James rolled that over in his mind.
"Can’t all be saints. Where’s the catch?"
"Most only want a fair chance and a patch of ground."
Mateo never took his eyes off him. "Some understand opportunity with all these new faces packed together, they want to find out how far a town bends before it snaps."
"So how’s this whole kettle not boiled over?"
Mateo hesitated. There wasn’t an ounce of pride in his answer. "Your name, Captain. I tell them this harbor belongs to Calloway’s flag. Do wrong here, and they will answer to you."
He spread his empty hands.
"A name only lasts so many nights."
James felt the weight somewhere under his ribs. It impacted him more than he cared to show.
"Right then."
He turned and searched the crowded dock until he spotted the three men he wanted.
"CUDJOE! WHITLOCK! BRIGGS! Get your asses over here, all of ye!"
They came one after another. Cudjoe already seemed to expect bad news before he’d heard the first word.
James wasted no time. "We’ve got ourselves a town full of decent folk, plus a handful of bastards thinkin’ nobody’ll notice ’em."
He jerked a thumb toward Mateo. "This bugger reckons we’re runnin’ short on time before one of ’em does some stupid shit enough to ruin everybody’s evenin’."
Cudjoe sighed before James had even finished.
"I know that face, Captain. I’m about tae be volunteered."
"Damn right ye are."
James grinned. "Take whatever hands you can spare from the crews, walk every street, every shack, every poor sod camped past the forest."
His grin faded. "If some bloody bastard been playin’ clever with the Code while I was away, I want their name before dawn."
He jabbed a thumb toward crossroads.
"Come mornin’, every honest soul signs it."
James shrugged.
"Everybody else can climb back aboard whatever leaky tub washed ’em up here."
Cudjoe blew out a long breath.
"Grand. I’ll nae sleep proper another night so long as I sail wi’ ye, Captain."
"Come now mate, you’ve grumbled louder over less."
"Aye, and I wasn’t wrong then either."
Whitlock already had a scrap of paper out, with a quill close behind it. "I’ll need a list of names, when they arrived, what claim each one has for staying. I’m not turning this town’s records into guesswork because somebody could tell a convincing tale."
"Fair enough, interrogate them or ask around for details."
Briggs never said a word. He gave James one short nod, the sort that had finished more quarrels aboard the Rose than an hour’s worth of shouting.
⚔ [QUEST ISSUED]
Bureaucracy, Arrr!
Word travels faster than ships ever could, and Concordia’s own name has brought in more people than her rules have managed to catch. Escaped men, discharged men, desperate men. And more than a few who see a crowded town and think it might be worth taking advantage of.
Sort them before dawn. The ones who came to build may stay and sign. The ones who came to break things can leave the way they arrived.
Resolve before : Dawn
Reward : 10 Fate
Reward : ???
A whole town, and you almost overlooked the small matter of having to govern it. It is heartwarming to watch consequences finally catch up with you.
Cudjoe, Whitlock, and Briggs each borrowed hands from the crews still hauling cargo off the ships. Before long nearly forty sailors stood waiting behind them.
"Try nae to hang anybody before mornin’!"
Cudjoe called as they set off. "Poor way to welcome newcomers."
Whitlock never looked up from his notes. "I will hang nobody, but simply write down the names of those worth hanging and let the Captain decide after sunrise. It is far more civilized."
Briggs said nothing at all, and somehow that ended the matter better than either of the other two had.
The three disappeared into the town together, swallowed by the noise of the dock.
James had barely found time to breathe before Thatch came striding up the pier with Sam close behind. The pair craned their necks this way and that like country lads seeing London for the first time.
"Well, I’ll be damned."
Thatch stopped at the foot of the pier, hands on his hips as he looked over the whole bay.
"Ye truly went and built the bloody thing."
"Told ye I would."
"Ye’ve told me plenty over the month, Calloway, and I’ve learned most of it’s fit for the wind."
His grin spread anyway. "This time, though, I’ll give ye credit."
Sam came alongside him, more silent than usual. His eyes wandered over the town with a kind of wonder James hadn’t seen in him before.
"I did said I’d carve my name on that stone someday, Calloway. Looks like someday showed up."
"Looks like it did."
James clapped each of them on the shoulder. "Both your crews are welcome to bunk here tonight, but come mornin’ I’ll want every bastard walkin’ these streets with mine. We’ve got a bit o’ housekeepin’ to do."
Neither asked what kind of housekeeping he meant. They shared a glance that said enough between them, then headed back toward their ships to settle their crews for the night.
Anne found him in the middle of all that confusion. One hand touched his arm, and she was already slipping away before he could catch her.
"I’ll be late tonight."
"Late?"
"Finishin’ what I started."
Her grin managed the remarkable trick of explaining everything while explaining nothing. "That sad empty house of yours won’t be empty come mornin’, if I have any say."
"Oi, don’t cause a mess here."
"Later, James."
Then she was gone, weaving through the crowd toward the Fortune before he found another word to throw after her.
James stood there a moment trying to understand how a man could build an entire town out of wilderness and timber, yet still fail to get a straight answer from the one woman sharing his roof.
Ten weeks ago he’d been a pirate captain. Now he was something between a landlord and a governor besides. If Anne had her way, he’d wake tomorrow to discover he’d somehow become pimp of a brothel too.
He almost laughed. It seemed just as likely to mean he was the luckiest fool alive as the biggest one.
"There you are, Captain."
Bonnet’s voice reached him from behind, warm as fresh bread and entirely pleased with itself. The man had just come down the Fortune’s gangway with his coat somehow still neat after a couple days and a half at sea. James suspected that was either talent or witchcraft.
"I confess I’ve been looking forward to this landing more than I admitted."
He smiled out across the settlement. "It does a fellow good to come home and find the place still standing. Better still to find it’s grown while he was away."
Here, at last, was one face that hadn’t greeted him by laying another problem in his lap.
James couldn’t stop the smile.
"Bonnet, my friend, you’re the only soul understands me tonight."
Bonnet ducked his head with a sheepish smile. "You are exceedingly kind, Captain. I think I’ll preserve the moment by resisting every question presently trying to escape my mouth."
Bonnet fell into step beside him with a satisfied hum.
"It is, I must say, a very fine town we’ve built."
"We’ll see how fine it looks by dawn."
James let his eyes travel across the smoke, the fresh timber, and the restless town stretching into the dark. Six weeks ago he’d left this place behind, and now he scarcely recognized it.
Then he nodded, "Every soul out there’s already decided this is home, whether they’ve admitted it yet or not. Come first light they’ll either say it plain, or they’ll say farewell instead."