Chapter Text
“Ahh, now that’s a fine brew!” Silver said with an appreciative smack of his lips and set down his empty cup. “The Hope o’ Benbow had quite a stash, eh?”
“Aye, so it had,” answered Silver’s drinking companion, a younger man by the name of El Torro Mendoza.
He was half Silver’s age and dressed in flashy finery and a bicorn hat double the height of his head with a magnificent feather. It was an outfit as loud as it was expensive, and unwisely flashy for a pirate captain in Silver’s opinion. Despite his abysmal wardrobe choice, Silver knew better than to underestimate Mendoza. The younger man was ruthless with a quick temper to match, but he unfortunately wasn’t an idiot. Mendoza shook the last rum bottle still on the table and grimaced at the limited sloshing.
“Empty,” he muttered then barked, “Craig!” There was no answer, and Mendoza crossed the room to the door and shouted down the hall, “Blasted Craig, where the devil are ya?!”
This was Silver’s chance. The entire reason he’d allowed himself to get roped into boarding Mendoza’s ship alone as part of a convoluted plan to rescue the daughter of Crescentia’s governor was because of this moment.
“Do ye keep no cabin boy aboard?” Silver inquired. “Surely a cap’n o’ yer great stature must have one about.”
Mendoza sniffed derisively. “I do have one, but he’s an idiot. I pressed him into service from the Hope of Benbow, but whenever I take the lashes to his hide to get him to obey, he just grows more stubborn like a mule. I think I’ll just throw him to the Calyan dragons.”
Lashes as in whippings? It took everything Silver had to keep the genial smile on his face and not murder Mendoza in cold blood right then and there.
“Noo, ye should use him! It’d be a shame to waste the labor. Go on, send for him,” Silver said in a light cajoling tone.
Mendoza reluctantly agreed and bellowed down the hall, “Hey Craig, send up that useless cabin boy and bring another bottle of rum!”
This time, Silver heard a faint ‘Aye, Captain’, and Mendoza returned to his chair with a weary sigh. “You’ll see what I mean, Silver, mark me.”
Silver shrugged with an affable smile. “In me own experience, ye work the lads hard enough to tire ‘em out and they don’t have the energy afterwards to make much trouble.”
Mendoza snorted. “It’s getting him to work in the first place that’s the trouble.”
Silver heard a ruckus coming from the hallway beyond the stateroom and watched two figures enter. One was a scrappy-looking Desandron holding a rum bottle in one hand and using his other three to hold onto the other figure, a scrawny brown-haired boy of about twelve baring his fangs, hissing and clawing and fighting back with everything he had against the restraint. Silver’s breath hitched. It was him. Jim and Kate’s boy, Little John.
He carefully slid his cup to the edge of the table farthest from Mendoza and turned sideways, propping his left arm up to obscure his face and hopefully prevent the lad from immediately recognizing him.
“Boy, serve your betters!” Mendoza snapped.
John hissed back, and Silver flinched, but the slap he expected thankfully never came. He heard the first cup being poured then the lad’s light-footed tread coming around to his side of the table. Silver carefully lowered his arm and raised his head a smidge to look at the boy who was now completely hidden from Mendoza’s view due to his machinations. His mother’s tight-lipped scowl was etched into John’s young features, and his father’s sky-blue eyes glared at the cup he was pouring into as if it had personally offended him. Halfway through the task, John’s brow twitched, and he looked up.
Their gazes met, and the change was immediate. John’s eyes widened, his long oval-shaped ears perked upright, and a smile broke across his face. Silver winked then grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him forward.
“What the devil do ye think yer doing, boy!” Silver bellowed in his face and kept him close with one hand while he quickly slipped a knife into his vest with the other. “I oughta tan yer hide fer that little stunt ye tried to pull, now get outta here!”
He threw John away from him, and the boy was tossed out by Craig while Mendoza shook his head. “What’d I tell ya, Silver?”
“Aye, they sure don’t make cabin boys like they used to these days,” Silver said with a lamentable sigh and took a large swig of rum from his cup.
“Well, now that you’ve succored my hospitality, I’m very keen to hear this plan of yours to repay me for all the drink you’ve consumed and outstrip the sovereigns I collected from the ransom,” Mendoza said while jingling a small coin purse.
“Now El Torro, me tongue may be loosened from the rum, but I still have me wits about me, and I ain’t about to share the plan in present company,” Silver said with a meaningful glance at Craig.
Mendoza dismissed him with a wave then fixed Silver with a sharp look. “Alright, we’re alone, so no more stalling, Silver.”
“Ye wound me, El Torro! I be doing not’ing o’ the sort, now bend me yer ear,” Silver exclaimed and leaned forward, Mendoza mirroring him. “Now after delivering those sovereigns to ya, I’ve been charged by Crescentia’s governor to light signal fires on the shore indicating yer next direction: one fer north and two fer south-”
“Ye’ll never live to light those fires,” Mendoza growled and stood with his hand on his sword hilt about to draw.
Silver rolled his eyes and waved impatiently. “Oh, stow yer temper, lad, I ain’t done yet.” With apparent reluctance, Mendoza sat back down, and Silver continued. “My plan is this: I’ll light two fires indicating south, and while the governor’s men sail that way, we’ll strike north and sack the queen’s unguarded warehouse.”
Mendoza’s mouth made a silent ‘o’, and then he started to snicker. “Silver, you wicked old scoundrel! Always looking out for number one, eh?”
“Aye, to our good health and fortune, partner,” Silver said and raised his cup in toast.
Mendoza clacked his own against Silver’s, and they both drank. While one fantasized about the fabulous wealth that awaited him, the other worried about the young leoman boy aboard.