Chapter 77: The Gentleman Pirate
James hid his surprise behind a low smile.
The man making his way toward them looked completely out of place, as though he’d stepped into the wrong island by mistake. He wore a fine plum-colored wool coat, silver thread glinting at each cuff. A powdered wig rested atop a face already slick with sweat, and his polished shoes found the only patch of spilled ale on the floor before he’d taken three steps.
The walking stick he carried looked untouched by actual use, though he clung to it with determination. He was short, comfortably round from years of good meals, and breathing harder than he cared to admit after hurrying over before anyone could change their mind about inviting him.
Thatch didn’t wait for him to reach the table. He hooked a boot around the stool behind him, yanked it out from under the sailor about to sit, ignored the man’s complaint, and shoved it into the space between himself and James.
"Sit down before ye trip over that stick and embarrass us both. I might’ve found someone desperate enough to hire ye."
"Edward."
The newcomer eased himself onto the stool, set the stick against one knee, and caught his breath.
"Forgive my tardiness. Your message reached me through three different strangers, each convinced the matter had a different degree of urgency."
He turned to James and offered his hand, multiple rings flashing in the light. "Captain Calloway. Stede Bonnet, of Barbados, very much at your service. I do apologize for the state of my arrival, I ran the entire way, which likely explains the perspiration."
James knew the name. A wealthy planter from Barbados who had abandoned his estate, his reputation, and every comfort he’d ever possessed for the singular purpose of becoming a pirate, despite having no talent whatsoever for the profession.
He knew enough of the man’s story to suspect it wouldn’t end kindly. Still, there was no reason to burden Bonnet with that tonight. He found himself liking the fellow already, and Bonnet hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences.
Thatch slapped Bonnet’s shoulder hard enough to rock him on the stool. "This daft bastard bought himself a sloop with his own coin, armed her with ten guns, hired a crew that actually knew what they were doin’, and nearly got the whole lot killed inside a month tryin’ to captain her himself."
Bonnet’s pleasant smile remained, though it had a hint of embarrassment.
"Which is how I ended up with the finest sloop in this harbor."
Thatch went on, "And he ended up owin’ me a considerable debt of gratitude, far as I’m concerned."
"I remember the matter somewhat differently, Edward."
Bonnet smiled all the same. "Though I readily concede she fares far better under your command than she ever did under mine."
"His own crew wouldn’t vote him back as captain, and I can’t say I’d blame ’em."
Thatch barked a laugh. "Man doesn’t know the first thing about readin’ a wind, but I’ve never caught him lyin’, cheatin’, or featherin’ his own nest."
Bonnet merely inclined his head, accepting the praise without trying to add to it.
"That is correct, I possess no talent for piracy whatsoever, Captain Calloway."
He spoke without hesitation. "Even though I purchased every volume on naval command the booksellers in Bridgetown could provide. Regrettably, none addressed what one ought to do when everyone aboard is shouting through cannon fire."
Thatch let out a snort into his mug, amused but not mocking.
Bonnet lifted his chin. "What I do possess is sufficient wealth to be of service, and acquaintances among gentlemen who would never speak honestly to a stranger carrying a cutlass. Both are yours to make use of, Captain, should you wish it."
James watched him for a moment. Skill could always be bought or learned, but trust was far harder to come by. He’d watched too many men lie with perfectly straight faces to not realize honesty when he saw it.
Bonnet wasn’t trying to hide one failure behind another.
And a captain who could finance his own ship solved a problem James still hadn’t answered. A settlement needed investment just as badly as it needed hands.
He’d misjudged stranger men before.
He didn’t think he was wrong about this one.
"Then let me ask you somethin’."
James met his eyes across the table.
"Why become a pirate?"
Bonnet was silent for a long moment.
When he answered, every trace of humor had left his voice.
"I wish I had a grand reason to offer."
A faint smile touched his face. "I simply woke one morning and realized I knew how the rest of my life would look. The same house, dinners, conversations. The same tomorrow, until there were no tomorrows left."
His smile turned almost apologetic.
"It struck me as a dreadful waste."
James couldn’t help but grin.
Well, there it was. The sea had always had a talent for lunatics, be those that ran from the law, debt, hanging. Then came this cheerful bastard, who’d looked at a fine house, full pockets, and a comfortable bed and somehow decided he’d rather get shot at. A man willing to throw away good sense in exchange for a story was worth keeping around.
Hell, the idea of a pirate republic had been built by fools exactly like that.
"Right then."
James set his mug on the table. "The Fortune’s yours to try for, Bonnet, but her future crew will decide if it accepts you or not. You’ll have to earn that yourself."
"That seems entirely fair, Captain."
Bonnet dipped his head again.
"I should expect nothing less from honest men."
"They’re honest, aye."
Thatch grinned. "Honest enough to call ye a useless bastard straight to your face. Better grow thick skin before ye meet the lot of ’em. As for a quartermaster..."
He scratched at his beard. "I know a few old salts lookin’ for work. I’ll put the word out."
"And I shall make a few inquiries of my own."
Bonnet smoothed the cuff of his coat. "There must be some experienced sailing master or navigator in Nassau who has grown weary of merchants. I should be delighted to leave the actual sailing to someone who knows rather more of it than I."
James laughed. "Now that’s what I like to hear. If you get to the ships before I do, find Cudjoe. Tell him I was foolish enough to let ye aboard."
Bonnet inclined his head with a smile.
"My thanks, Captain. I shall endeavor to make a respectable first impression."
Thatch hauled Bonnet to his feet by the collar of that expensive coat.
"Come on, then. No point lettin’ good sailors get hired by somebody else."
Bonnet retrieved his walking stick, offered James a brief bow that belonged in a drawing room rather than a waterfront tavern, and allowed himself to be dragged away.
James watched them disappear through the crowd.
The empty place waiting in the Fortune’s wheelhouse suddenly looked much closer to being filled. All he’d really done was point one wealthy, earnest stranger in the right direction.
Beside him, Anne had been quiet the entire time, as though some part of her had drifted beyond a horizon only she could see and hadn’t yet found the way back.