Chapter 61: A Captain Doesn’t Explain Himself
An insect chirped somewhere out in the darkness, carrying on as though the world hadn’t nearly killed him. The smell hung in the air so thick it almost felt solid, and James knew, before he even opened his eyes, that unconsciousness had been the better part of the evening.
🏴 [TITLE ACTIVATED] — Against All Reasonable Odds
Well.
That was idiotic.
I sincerely hope that looked more impressive from your perspective.
You’re welcome, by the way.
James let out a tired chuckle.
"Well, I’m alive enough to argue about it."
He stayed where he was for a moment before trying to move.
His arm still felt numb. His jaw protested the moment he worked it, and when he touched his cheek, it was already beginning to swell. From his shoulder to his hip, every muscle ached.
Bruised was still better than dead.
Then he realized what he was lying in.
Rotting straw squelched beneath him.
James pushed himself upright. An unpleasant brownish mound gave way under his hand, releasing a fresh wave of stench. Small bones dug into his palm, chicken, by the feel of them.
He looked down at the sleeve of his coat.
"...Right."
He decided he didn’t need to know.
First the Atlantic had drowned him. Now he’d survived a leap from a French fort only to land face-first in a dung heap. His life had taken stranger turns than he’d ever imagined, and somehow this one might be his favorite.
"Och, that’s rich."
He addressed the muck, the night, and whoever poor soul would have to shovel the heap come morning.
"Drown me in shite, fair play. Very fair play indeed. At least it broke my bloody fall."
He climbed out of the pile, brushed off what little could be brushed off, then looked back once at the fort. It had gone dark again now that the lanterns had moved elsewhere. The wall he’d climbed vanished into shadow.
He decided he’d earned the right never to do that again.
James picked his way through Mobile’s dark streets, keeping to the shadows less out of caution now and more out of simple mercy toward anyone downwind.
Some dog caught his scent on the night air, let out one confused, offended bark, and bolted the other direction without waiting to investigate further.
James took that as a fair review.
By the time he reached the cabaret, the place had gone quiet. Only one lamp still burned behind the bar, where the woman who ran the establishment scraped cooling tallow into a tin.
She looked up, drew a long breath, then quietly set the tin aside.
"Monsieur."
Her nose wrinkled before she’d finished the word.
"Vous sentez... Mon Dieu."
James spread his arms with a grin.
"Ye should see the other fella’s midden."
Without a word, she let open the shutter behind the bar before he’d even crossed the room.
Make that a pair for fair reviews.
Upstairs, all three of his men were still awake.
Jim lounged with his boots resting on a stool. Bert sat ramrod straight beside the window as though someone might inspect the room at any moment. Tomás stayed closest to the door, still looking unsettled after his own night’s work.
He was the first to notice James.
Whatever any of them had planned to say died the instant they got a proper look at him.
Jim recovered first, exactly as James expected.
"Cap’n."
He nodded with absolute certainty.
"Ye look like ye lost a fight with a dungheap. And lost badly."
"I’d say I came out ahead, personally."
"Bollocks. Nobody comes out ahead of a dungheap."
He leaned over and pushed the shutter open wider, letting the night air do what little it could.
Then, he nodded in realization, "Unless. Aye, that’d explain it. Swamp panther, they’re twice the size of horses down here. Ate a whole Frenchman once, boots an’ all. Spat the Captain back out ’cause he was too much trouble."
"I was not eaten, Jim."
"Would explain the smell, though."
Bert regarded him with caution, "Captain. I am obliged to ask, in the interest of your health, precisely what substance you are currently wearing, and whether any of it requires urgent medical attention."
"It’s mostly straw, Bert. And other things best left uncounted."
Bert didn’t seem convinced, "I would ask that you itemize them regardless, Captain. Thoroughness in these matters has served me well."
Meanwhile, Tomás hovered nearby, torn plainly between wanting to help and wanting several more feet of distance between himself and whatever James had brought back with him.
"Captain, are you... I mean, is it..."
He hesitated.
"Should I get water? Or a doctor. Or maybe both. I do not know which one you need more."
"Water’ll do fine, lad. Save the doctor for somebody actually dyin’."
James dropped into the last empty chair without waiting for an invitation, entirely unbothered by what the straw still clinging to him did to the seat.
"Ran into a bit of bloody bother at the fort. Sorted it out. That’s all ye’re gettin’."
Jim lips parted open.
James dismissed him with a wave. "I’m the captain, and captains don’t explain themselves. That’s the whole of the story, and I’ll thank ye all not to go inventin’ better ones."
"Too late," Jim shrugged. "Already have three."
"Keep ’em to yerself."
"Can’t. Wouldn’t be fair to the story."
James rubbed carefully around the sore parts of his face. "Right then. Let’s hear what the rest of ye found before I’m too tired to remember any of it. Bert, you first. You’re the only one here I trust to give me a straight answer tonight."
"Thank you, Captain."
Bert folded his hands, perfectly satisfied to begin exactly where expected. "Tomás and I located two storehouses, lightly guarded. Judging by the traffic, they contain provisions rather than ammunition. Salted meat, dried peas, and, I believe, flour, based on the sacks being unloaded."
"There was also a third building."
Tomás added, quieter, glancing at Bert as though checking whether he was allowed. "Smaller. We think it is only tools. Bert did not believe it worth counting properly."
"I did not dismiss it, Tomás. I simply concluded it posed no material interest to our purposes."
"You said it smelled of nothing but rust and mud."
"An observation, not a dismissal."
James tucked the information away before turning to Jim.
"And you?"
Jim straightened like a man about to receive a medal. "Found the real prize, Cap’n. Warehouse behind the tanner’s. One poor fella asleep sittin’ upright, snorin’ louder than a gun deck. Pitch, rope, spare canvas. Enough supplies to refit some fleet."
He spread both hands. "I would’ve counted the barrels myself, but I didn’t have the heart to wake the poor bastard. He earned his sleep."
"Convenient."
James believed him.
"Was there a ropewalk behind it, Jim?" Tomás asked with suspicious innocence.
Jim frowned thoughtfully.
"Might’ve been."
James laughed hard enough to make Bert raise an eyebrow.
He let the matter rest.
Three depots.
The pieces fell into place with the certainty of a compass finding north. The canvas warehouse stood close enough to the waterfront that the mortar wouldn’t have to be precise. It only had to be quick. The other two would only be slightly more difficult.
As for the fort depot, it wouldn’t be an easy shot.
Still, he was confident on the Rose. Or at least the absurd perks it had received.
"We’ll aim the mortar at ’em. It should reach."
"’Should’?"
Jim lifted an eyebrow.
"That’s a fair bit of confidence for a gun that’s never fired a proper shot, Cap’n."
James grinned despite the pull of his bruised cheek.
"Good thing I’ve confidence to spare."
The exhaustion finally caught him.
Every bruise from the climb, the fight, the jump, and the landing demanded attention at once. He let himself sink farther into the chair instead of arguing with them.
"That’s enough plannin’ for one night."
He waved a tired hand around the room. "Get whatever sleep ye can. We leave before first light, mixed in with the mornin’ cart traffic. Nobody remembers four tired traders headin’ out at dawn."
"Understood, Captain."
Bert rose immediately and began laying out his bedroll.
Tomás murmured something that felt like agreement, though he was already half asleep against the wall.
Jim gave James one last theatrical wrinkle of his nose.
"Ye’re sleepin’ by the window, Cap’n. Nothin’ personal."
"Wise man."
James closed his eyes.
"Wake me if the panther comes back for seconds."