July 28th-Early Evening
The Camp
Captain turned back to Llywarch, only to find the Welshman striding down the path bellowing for Martel and Gunshy. He shrugged, pausing when he heard Saul’s deep voice call his name.
"Your men work fast. The Fatima will be cleared by nightfall, and my people report the same of the fleet. " He grinned. "It would appear their incapacity on my ships was misleading."
"So it would." David grinned in return and gestured to the odd hard brown and black chests and wind filled trousers among the Company, hefting their crates and stacking their weapons. "And incapacitated or not, looks as thought they've gotten to yours."
"Don't make any assumptions. Most of them are simply keen to have their decks to themselves again."
"That may be part of it, but I think they've found kindred spirits," he chuckled. "And the feeling is mutual. Mercenaries don't usually let outsiders carry their tools."
"It may be they realize they've nothing to fear. Lances and armor are of little use at sea."
"Though I bet they'd fare a fine price."
Saul smiled in defeat.
"Yes, they would."
"To be honest, we could afford to lose a few pounds of mail. It's trusting the Corsairs with their water and food that's surprising."
"Ah, yes. Mr. Martel was quite sullen on that subject." He paused. "There may be something we can arrange to that end."
David raised an eyebrow.
"Such as?"
"In the short-term, for market price and one half a quarter of the stores aboard the Golden Sun, the transports, and the galleys Damnation, Devil's Dog and Wraith."
"And in the long-term?"
Saul was silent a moment and stroked his thin black beard.
"The Fatima, transports Red and Green, and two of my fastest galleys remain here to provide your camp protection and means of escape, while the rest re-supply from... A local friendly port. But that, Robertson, is more expensive. Far more."
"We have been well-paid, but not well-paid enough to hire a fleet of Corsairs for two months."
"It is not expensive in gold, Captain," Saul's voice grew quiet and he fixed the other man with a tight stare. "Our operating costs and a small profit margin will do. What I have to ask of you is a favor. One we may both regret."
"That being?"
He gazed off into the far distance, past the bend of the bay and out, out into the open sea.
"A private matter, for now. It is unlikely that I will ever call upon you to fulfill it. All I ask is that should I, you give it your consideration as a man of honor."
David studied him briefly, and then nodded.
"That I can promise."
"It is settled then." The other man straightened and smiled. "I'll send Amina to negotiate the finer details with Mr. Martel. I am well-acquainted with the quibbling of traders, and this one has learned well by the Moors, but he will find his tricks useless with her."
The younger man arched an eyebrow at this.
"The Moors..."
"Or perhaps the Arabs. You do not see it in his manners, Captain?"
"In his manners?"
"He is clean, polite, reserved," Saul laughed. "You cannot possibly think him a Christian. Whatever the circumstances, I am certain he has had many dealings with my brothers. Good or ill."
"I'll instruct him to handle the negotiations, then."
"Very good."
They were silent for a long while, having come to a high point on the cliff and settled in to watch the sun sink slowly beyond the teeming army still hunched below sacks of salt and boxes of dressings. In the far distance, the masts of the Golden Sun and the Fatima were ablaze in gold, and their decks were empty, orange and calm. Or at least, almost. The children of the gypsies were racing from stern to prow, leaping from quarterdeck to half-deck to main deck with peels of giggles. It was a privilege Amina's first mate, and not Amina herself, had surely afforded them, and it was one that, even from this range, they could see had not amused their mother.
The scene was strangely peaceful. These were men of war, all of them. Profiteers and privateers. It was not inconceivable that none of the former would ever leave this island, but would come to nourish its soil as many, too many, of the latter had come already to nourish its waters. But their laughter and song filled the warm summer air, the breeze carrying it higher and higher, and the sky was brilliant and beautiful.
It was the calm before the storm, David knew, but it was a calm to be relished.
Finally, however, Saul turned and appraised him. The inquisitive eyes traveled the length of him and of the days, the short days, they had known one another, and for the first time, the younger man could see his own indecision, so common since he'd taken command, on the hardened Corsair face. There was a moment of comfort in this, that one wwhose years at the head of men were already so many could doubt, but it what was almost immediately supplanted by shock. After several minutes of this, the older Captain seemed to make up his mind and what he did then was far more startling.
He drew his shamshirs and for the briefest instant David's hand went for his own sword, but just as suddenly he relaxed. This was a slow, deliberate action, and he had seen first-hand how fast the Corsairs were for their weapons. If Saul wanted to kill him, in these close quarters without warning, he would already be dead. And if they planned to turn on the Company, as more paranoid speculators had worried in the wake of the Oran, this was the most foolish moment to choose, and whatever else Saul was, he was not a fool.
He paused again, and then flipped the shamshirs smoothly in his hands, traveling the length of the blades without a scratch. With the tips balanced between his fingers, he extended the hilts to Captain and bowed his head just slightly.
"I wish to pledge my sword to the Free Company," he said, calmly. Grinning, he raised his eyes and cocked his head. "This is how it is done, is it not?"
Reeling, David merely nodded.
"In truth," the older man said, tossing the swords lightly back into their scabbards, "I wish to propose an alliance of sorts, in keeping with the supplies we will already be delivering for the Company."
"An alliance?"
"We have interests on this island now. Our men on the Oran may still be alive, and whatever their fate we must know it and avenge it. Barbaries attacked barbaries for the sake of Turks. It cannot be left to stand. I, and a few volunteers, will remain in order to discover the disposition of the Sultan's fleet-a matter far more easily accomplished from shore than ship. If we travel alongside you, our luck in this, Captain, is significantly improved."
"And when you discover the disposition of the Sultan's fleet?"
Saul's smile was hard and cold.
"Leave that to us." He glanced down at his men, now heaving with the gunners to move their cannon. "We will supply our own weapons, water, food, and powder, and I will follow your lead on this uncertain solid ground. Although we are unused to this manner of war and of a different sort than your men, I think you will find the bargain more than fair."
Captain now appraised him in turn, this long, sleek Captain. His hairless, bare chest, the giant Red Hand on his back, his bald head gleaming the red-orange light. His skin dark and hard, and yet impossibly still smooth apart from the small scar on his chest. The pitch was unnecessary. He had seen more than enough of the Corsairs to know that this group of them, at least, were lethally capable, and the exploits of Red Hand and his Captain daughter were legend.
He nodded and, in spite of his surprise, smiled.
"I accept your terms, and I'm glad to have you and the ones you bring."
Saul extended a hand and they shook, but his jaw was set.
"Make no mistake, Captain. We are not of the Company, nor are we taking sides in this latest of interminable wars between Pope and Caliph. Politics are of no concern to us. We will march with you, but we march for our own."
"I understand," David returned, "and for what it's worth I mourn the loss of your ship and its crew."
"Not lost yet, Captain. Not yet." He looked away for a moment, and then, finally, smiled in return. "Come. Let us tell the others."
He began his careful way back down to the beach, giving a short, shrill whistle. It was answered down the shoreline and onto the ships by a half-dozen or so. Captain guessed, then, that these were the others and smiled very slightly. A half-dozen of these Corsairs, Red Hand's best, could prove a very fair bargain indeed.
Saul led him down the waterline and around the cliff face, away from the camp that was slowly taking form as the last of the cargo and passengers hit the sand. When they were out of sight, they took a small hill that sloped round a bend and... David's breath caught in his throat.
At the pre-arranged signal they had assembled where they wouldn't obstruct the Company's unloading and tent pitching, and now here they were, down the rise in such a chaotic mess it could only be an attempt at a formation. Saul's volunteers.
"There are four hundred and thirty-five of them, Captain," Saul said at his shoulder.
"All volunteers?"
"After the Oran word circulated quietly from ship to ship. Three times their number applied to their Captains, but we were forced to cut it off here. Four hundred and thirty-five, and we will be bringing our own artillery, as well. Eight swivel guns, two dozen hand cannons, and the Fatima's bombards. As you can see, Robertson, a fair bargain."
Along the front row, David could see two men he didn't recognize, the blind lookout, Seer, the old Captain Farooq, Saul's first mate, Rat, and the Arab, Omar. In their center was an empty place before a long column of fierce looking Africans, and he knew instantly to whom it belonged.
A rumble began to spread through the ranks. They were an unruly mob, but they were filled with fire at the sight of Red Hand. Rat raised his boarding axes above his head and clanged their flats together. Behind him the men followed suit, and then tipped their weapons forward with a piercing yell and howling laughter. A mass of cutlasses, scimitars, axes, pistols, muskets, ornamental swords, chains, daggers, spikes, and hooks from every country in Europe, Africa, and the East rattled together in the air.
It was the worst salute he'd ever seen.
The Camp
Captain turned back to Llywarch, only to find the Welshman striding down the path bellowing for Martel and Gunshy. He shrugged, pausing when he heard Saul’s deep voice call his name.
"Your men work fast. The Fatima will be cleared by nightfall, and my people report the same of the fleet. " He grinned. "It would appear their incapacity on my ships was misleading."
"So it would." David grinned in return and gestured to the odd hard brown and black chests and wind filled trousers among the Company, hefting their crates and stacking their weapons. "And incapacitated or not, looks as thought they've gotten to yours."
"Don't make any assumptions. Most of them are simply keen to have their decks to themselves again."
"That may be part of it, but I think they've found kindred spirits," he chuckled. "And the feeling is mutual. Mercenaries don't usually let outsiders carry their tools."
"It may be they realize they've nothing to fear. Lances and armor are of little use at sea."
"Though I bet they'd fare a fine price."
Saul smiled in defeat.
"Yes, they would."
"To be honest, we could afford to lose a few pounds of mail. It's trusting the Corsairs with their water and food that's surprising."
"Ah, yes. Mr. Martel was quite sullen on that subject." He paused. "There may be something we can arrange to that end."
David raised an eyebrow.
"Such as?"
"In the short-term, for market price and one half a quarter of the stores aboard the Golden Sun, the transports, and the galleys Damnation, Devil's Dog and Wraith."
"And in the long-term?"
Saul was silent a moment and stroked his thin black beard.
"The Fatima, transports Red and Green, and two of my fastest galleys remain here to provide your camp protection and means of escape, while the rest re-supply from... A local friendly port. But that, Robertson, is more expensive. Far more."
"We have been well-paid, but not well-paid enough to hire a fleet of Corsairs for two months."
"It is not expensive in gold, Captain," Saul's voice grew quiet and he fixed the other man with a tight stare. "Our operating costs and a small profit margin will do. What I have to ask of you is a favor. One we may both regret."
"That being?"
He gazed off into the far distance, past the bend of the bay and out, out into the open sea.
"A private matter, for now. It is unlikely that I will ever call upon you to fulfill it. All I ask is that should I, you give it your consideration as a man of honor."
David studied him briefly, and then nodded.
"That I can promise."
"It is settled then." The other man straightened and smiled. "I'll send Amina to negotiate the finer details with Mr. Martel. I am well-acquainted with the quibbling of traders, and this one has learned well by the Moors, but he will find his tricks useless with her."
The younger man arched an eyebrow at this.
"The Moors..."
"Or perhaps the Arabs. You do not see it in his manners, Captain?"
"In his manners?"
"He is clean, polite, reserved," Saul laughed. "You cannot possibly think him a Christian. Whatever the circumstances, I am certain he has had many dealings with my brothers. Good or ill."
"I'll instruct him to handle the negotiations, then."
"Very good."
They were silent for a long while, having come to a high point on the cliff and settled in to watch the sun sink slowly beyond the teeming army still hunched below sacks of salt and boxes of dressings. In the far distance, the masts of the Golden Sun and the Fatima were ablaze in gold, and their decks were empty, orange and calm. Or at least, almost. The children of the gypsies were racing from stern to prow, leaping from quarterdeck to half-deck to main deck with peels of giggles. It was a privilege Amina's first mate, and not Amina herself, had surely afforded them, and it was one that, even from this range, they could see had not amused their mother.
The scene was strangely peaceful. These were men of war, all of them. Profiteers and privateers. It was not inconceivable that none of the former would ever leave this island, but would come to nourish its soil as many, too many, of the latter had come already to nourish its waters. But their laughter and song filled the warm summer air, the breeze carrying it higher and higher, and the sky was brilliant and beautiful.
It was the calm before the storm, David knew, but it was a calm to be relished.
Finally, however, Saul turned and appraised him. The inquisitive eyes traveled the length of him and of the days, the short days, they had known one another, and for the first time, the younger man could see his own indecision, so common since he'd taken command, on the hardened Corsair face. There was a moment of comfort in this, that one wwhose years at the head of men were already so many could doubt, but it what was almost immediately supplanted by shock. After several minutes of this, the older Captain seemed to make up his mind and what he did then was far more startling.
He drew his shamshirs and for the briefest instant David's hand went for his own sword, but just as suddenly he relaxed. This was a slow, deliberate action, and he had seen first-hand how fast the Corsairs were for their weapons. If Saul wanted to kill him, in these close quarters without warning, he would already be dead. And if they planned to turn on the Company, as more paranoid speculators had worried in the wake of the Oran, this was the most foolish moment to choose, and whatever else Saul was, he was not a fool.
He paused again, and then flipped the shamshirs smoothly in his hands, traveling the length of the blades without a scratch. With the tips balanced between his fingers, he extended the hilts to Captain and bowed his head just slightly.
"I wish to pledge my sword to the Free Company," he said, calmly. Grinning, he raised his eyes and cocked his head. "This is how it is done, is it not?"
Reeling, David merely nodded.
"In truth," the older man said, tossing the swords lightly back into their scabbards, "I wish to propose an alliance of sorts, in keeping with the supplies we will already be delivering for the Company."
"An alliance?"
"We have interests on this island now. Our men on the Oran may still be alive, and whatever their fate we must know it and avenge it. Barbaries attacked barbaries for the sake of Turks. It cannot be left to stand. I, and a few volunteers, will remain in order to discover the disposition of the Sultan's fleet-a matter far more easily accomplished from shore than ship. If we travel alongside you, our luck in this, Captain, is significantly improved."
"And when you discover the disposition of the Sultan's fleet?"
Saul's smile was hard and cold.
"Leave that to us." He glanced down at his men, now heaving with the gunners to move their cannon. "We will supply our own weapons, water, food, and powder, and I will follow your lead on this uncertain solid ground. Although we are unused to this manner of war and of a different sort than your men, I think you will find the bargain more than fair."
Captain now appraised him in turn, this long, sleek Captain. His hairless, bare chest, the giant Red Hand on his back, his bald head gleaming the red-orange light. His skin dark and hard, and yet impossibly still smooth apart from the small scar on his chest. The pitch was unnecessary. He had seen more than enough of the Corsairs to know that this group of them, at least, were lethally capable, and the exploits of Red Hand and his Captain daughter were legend.
He nodded and, in spite of his surprise, smiled.
"I accept your terms, and I'm glad to have you and the ones you bring."
Saul extended a hand and they shook, but his jaw was set.
"Make no mistake, Captain. We are not of the Company, nor are we taking sides in this latest of interminable wars between Pope and Caliph. Politics are of no concern to us. We will march with you, but we march for our own."
"I understand," David returned, "and for what it's worth I mourn the loss of your ship and its crew."
"Not lost yet, Captain. Not yet." He looked away for a moment, and then, finally, smiled in return. "Come. Let us tell the others."
He began his careful way back down to the beach, giving a short, shrill whistle. It was answered down the shoreline and onto the ships by a half-dozen or so. Captain guessed, then, that these were the others and smiled very slightly. A half-dozen of these Corsairs, Red Hand's best, could prove a very fair bargain indeed.
Saul led him down the waterline and around the cliff face, away from the camp that was slowly taking form as the last of the cargo and passengers hit the sand. When they were out of sight, they took a small hill that sloped round a bend and... David's breath caught in his throat.
At the pre-arranged signal they had assembled where they wouldn't obstruct the Company's unloading and tent pitching, and now here they were, down the rise in such a chaotic mess it could only be an attempt at a formation. Saul's volunteers.
"There are four hundred and thirty-five of them, Captain," Saul said at his shoulder.
"All volunteers?"
"After the Oran word circulated quietly from ship to ship. Three times their number applied to their Captains, but we were forced to cut it off here. Four hundred and thirty-five, and we will be bringing our own artillery, as well. Eight swivel guns, two dozen hand cannons, and the Fatima's bombards. As you can see, Robertson, a fair bargain."
Along the front row, David could see two men he didn't recognize, the blind lookout, Seer, the old Captain Farooq, Saul's first mate, Rat, and the Arab, Omar. In their center was an empty place before a long column of fierce looking Africans, and he knew instantly to whom it belonged.
A rumble began to spread through the ranks. They were an unruly mob, but they were filled with fire at the sight of Red Hand. Rat raised his boarding axes above his head and clanged their flats together. Behind him the men followed suit, and then tipped their weapons forward with a piercing yell and howling laughter. A mass of cutlasses, scimitars, axes, pistols, muskets, ornamental swords, chains, daggers, spikes, and hooks from every country in Europe, Africa, and the East rattled together in the air.
It was the worst salute he'd ever seen.
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