Chapter 136: Too Much Gold, Too Few Hands
James climbed up through the hatch and found Cudjoe waiting by the mainmast with his arms folded, watching two sailors wrestle a tarred coil of rope around a swivel gun mount that hadn’t been on the deck a week ago.
Off to one side, one of the newer hands stood staring at a bare stretch of planking as if the wood ought to explain where his hammock had gone.
"Lost somethin’, lad?"
"Me bed, Cap’n. Some bastard’s gone and put a cannon where I used tae sleep."
"Sleep on the cannon, then." James grinned. "She’s warmer than ye’d think, come mornin’."
Cudjoe never so much as twitched.
"That’s exactly what I wanted a word wi’ ye about."
He nodded below, toward the fresh line of gunports cut into the Rose’s side, "Hell’s that? I’ll give her a fortnight afore she either shakes herself apart or plants her keel on some reef nobody’s had the sense tae chart."
"She’s lived through worse than a few new holes, Cudjoe."
James slapped a hand on the mast.
"There’s somethin’ special about this lass, don’t use common sense for her."
"That’s nae comfort."
"As for the reefs, we got Grey."
James let a faint smile linger. "The man’s forever arguin’ with his own charts worse than he argues with me, and somehow we still end up home in one piece."
Cudjoe answered with a grunt. He looked no more convinced than before, but let the matter drop.
"Right then."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a scrap of paper worn soft at the folds, the ink smeared from being handled too often.
"While I’ve got ye, there’s the matter of the coin."
"Go on."
"Near every hand’s had his share already."
Cudjoe squinted at the paper. "Looks like somewhere near nine thousand pound sterling altogether, once Whitlock’s done countin’ every last one thrice."
James gave a low whistle.
"That’s a tidy haul for one convoy."
He nodded, "Aye, and yer own share’s another matter, seein’ ye own both ships besides captainin’ one of them, and I’ve never seen the code written for a man fool enough tae do both."
He tucked the paper away.
"We’ll call it generous till Whitlock finishes tormentin’ himself over the numbers."
Behind them, Rook’s voice rang out in honest outrage.
"Ye never said three shillin’s! Ye said two!"
"I said three, ye deaf bastard, and Twice heard it same as ye did!"
Twice said nothing, which ended the question better than words likely would have.
"Then there’s what’s still sittin’ in the hold."
Cudjoe went on, paying no mind to the racket. "Coin in a strongbox feeds fewer mouths than coin spent in a market."
"How much have we sold?"
"Some, nae enough."
His mouth twisted. "Every bloody captain in Nassau’s tryin’ tae sell Jamaican sugar and rum, and the market’s got about as much room for it as a drunk’s got for one more cup. Prices’ve gone soft."
Near the rail, three casks of molasses sweated in the sun while a pair of sailors argued over whether they ought to move them again before anyone had agreed to buy them.
"And the rest?"
"It waits, unless ye fancy sailin’ somewhere folk’ve got deeper pockets."
Cudjoe shrugged, "Havana’d buy it fast enough, Spaniards are mighty fond of stolen British goods, if only because it means their enemy loses twice."
James turned that over in his head, much the way he’d rolled the black stone in his pocket not long before.
"And the crew?"
The humor slipped from Cudjoe’s face. "Rose is short seventeen hands from what she ought tae carry. Fortune’s worse, short by thirty-one, near enough, after we filled half her berths with cannon instead of men."
James pulled a face.
"That’s a powerful lot of empty hammocks."
"Aye, and every fool in Nassau wants aboard now that yer name’s worth shoutin’ over a mug of rum."
"Useless, then?"
Cudjoe shook his head. "Near every last one. Brawlers, drunkards, and precious few sailors among ’em."
His voice dropped. "We lost the master-at-arms in the fightin’, and the cook two days later even after he swore his wound was nothin’ till it went bad. Neither’ll get much singin’ done over ’em in the Rat, but the watch bill knows they’re gone."
"Huh, who’s cookin’ now?"
"God knows. Whoever it is seems convinced salt can mend any meal, includin’ the water."
James laughed in spite of himself, though there wasn’t much life left in the sound by the time it escaped.
Cudjoe let the silence linger before reaching into his coat again. This time he drew out another folded paper, older and softer from traveling farther than the first.
"There’s word from Concordia too, came by schooner two days ago."
James raised a brow and picked up the paper.
Cudjoe continued while he read, "Elena and Mateo’ve got more work than they know what tae do with, seems folks keep turnin’ up lookin’ for a place tae belong, and the pair of ’em don’t care tae make every decision alone. The whole settlement’s waitin’ for ye."
"More arrivals?"
"Aye, damned if I know what’s drawin’ ’em there, but they keep turnin’ up."
Warm satisfaction stirred in James’s chest, though he kept it from showing.
The corner of Cudjoe’s mouth crept up in a smile so small a man could miss it if he blinked.
"Might solve our own troubles besides. Reckon a man that’s sailed this far lookin’ for a home’s less likely to jump ship than one only chasin’ a full purse."
James didn’t need long.
"Then that’s done. We sail for Concordia."
He turned and swept the deck with his eyes until he found the face he wanted.
"Kit! Get yerself over here!"
Kit came running flat out, nearly kicking a coil of rope across the deck, grinning as though his birthday had wandered aboard by mistake.
"Aye, Cap’n?"
"Find Thatch, and Black Sam too, if he’s sober enough to hear ye. Tell ’em the Rose and Fortune are sailin’, and if either one wants to see Concordia, now’s the time."
"Aye, Cap’n!"
He was gone immediately, boots pounding across the planks hard enough to make half the deck look up.
James turned back to the crew and raised his voice till it went from one end of the ship to the other. "Right then, ye idle bastards! We’ve a home waitin’ on us and a ship full of prize doin’ no good sittin’ here! Get this deck ready, we sail on the tide!"
The Rose woke all at once.
Men rushed for ropes and their stations while voices flew across the deck. James watched the bustle another moment before deciding there wasn’t much honor in ordering other men to work while he stood idle.
Then he set himself to it like the rest.