Calvin sat in the shadows, rocking back and forth every so often on his haunches to stop his legs going numb. Watching - invisible. That was one thing he was good at being, one with the shadows. To stay alive on the streets of A Coruña warranted such an affinity and to know, predict the movements of the others that lurked and profited in such places.
He was certain that the La Gongoozler was being watched. Although he'd seen no one, he had a feeling and he trusted that feeling; more times than not it had got him out of a difficult and dangerous place. The other pickpockets nicknamed him el gato, the cat, for the simple fact he seemed to have nine lives... and he could find his way into seemingly impossible places.
The first to leave the boat were the bosun and his motley bunch of side kicks, looking more suspicious than any he'd ever spy the throng on the wharf. Calvin felt the hatred tighten in his chest as the brawny bosun swaggered past him, stinking of old rum. He knew that the bully's over inflated ego could be easily destroyed because Bruno believed he was invincible and thought that he could rough up a small boy without suffering any kind of consequence. He'd seen it before. And even though, by Bruno's standards, he was only a small boy, he'd taken down a giant before and he'd take down Bruno. He was patient.
Pete left next with a steward from the Port Master's Office. A man bled into the crowd from an alley way and fell into step behind Pete and the other grey haired man. Calvin was certain he was one of the cast off soldiers that they'd taken on in A Coruña. Even though the man was dressed in the rags of a beggar, the way he held his body and the crisp steps were a dead give away. He was torn as to whether he should follow them or remain with an eye on the boat as directed.
"I'll follow him," a familiar voice came from behind.
"Father Paolo!"
"Shush Calvin."
"Capt'n says we've got four hours and then we sail."
"I didn't expect to see you all back in Port."
Calvin shrugged his shoulders.
"Capt'n got a little sunburnt. I don't think he wanted to row all the way in."
"I'll see you back on board."
Calvin felt a pat on his back and for a moment all went dark, as Father Paolo cast a shadow across the sun. And then he was gone, having melted into the crowd. Then Calvin saw Ruby balance across the gang plank beautiful in her red dress, carrying a large basket.
"Ruby will be happy to know Father Paolo's back," Calvin muttered and then wondered why he would say that. He didn't know much about religion, but he knew that Fathers like Father Paolo weren't interested in women like Ruby. He'd seen plenty of pilgrims making time at the Brothels on their way to pay homage to St Santiago. But Calvin felt Father Paolo to be upstanding in his faith, not like the Abbot who was a well known customer at Catriona's. Ruby was safe from the attentions of Father Paolo. Calvin smiled and tried not to lose himself in thoughts of what it would be like when he was old enough for Ruby to take him seriously as a man, and not a boy.
Then he saw something catch the sun and flash - a blade? A man, dressed in homespun clothes was leading an ill-tempered horse, hitched to a cart of badly stacked port barrels. He pulled the horse up and leant nonchalantly against a stone wall, as the agitated creature pawed at the ground. He coughed and spat on the ground. Calvin saw a beggar materialise out of an alleyway and join the farrier. He quickly noted that both men had close-cropped heads of hair and were clean shaven. Deep in hushed conversation, Calvin unable to hear above the bustle, what they were saying, though he was certain they were speaking in Spanish. Pablo strode across the wharf, shouting out in disjointed Portuguese, disrupting the two men's conversation and the second man disappeared down the nearest alley way. The farrier greeted Pablo and began animated negotiations with Pablo, who was looking flustered with his lack of mastering of the Portuguese language.
Deciding it better to follow the beggar, than to stay and watch Pablo, Calvin crept from his hiding position, hoping to be able to return to the ship with the location of the soldiers – knowing that the Captain would prefer to deal with them on land.
Finding the beggar easily, he followed at a discreet distance, walking deeper into the dark quarter of the dock area. He heard shouting and swearing, in Spanish, and drew back behind a pile of barrels as men, bloodied and angry from a fight, poured out of an alley and into a dank, ramshackle tavern. It seemed they had run foul of Bruno and his men. Calvin wished that he was braver, stronger, older and that he could follow into the tavern, but his street sense warned him to stay outside, to try and see in or at least count how many other men were in there.
Slinking closer to the tavern, Calvin hid behind a stinking pile of refuse, and he was certain that there was a dead dog or cat decomposing close by. He watched the tavern. The soldiers were sober and well organised, and had obviously been waiting for the return of La Gongoozler. He needed to report this all to the Captain.
"Where do you think you're going boy?" Calvin had been so transfixed with the activity in the tavern he hadn't spotted the surrounding area for look outs like he should have.
Calvin turned to run, and was sprinting towards the ship one moment and hurtling face first into a fresh mound of steaming horse shit the next. Before he could try and wipe his face clean, and scramble away, he was hauled to his feet by the back of his shirt.
"You're that kid from Juan's ships aren't you?"
Calvin stood, spitting horse shit and remembering how fierce Ruby had been when the Giant had her in the tavern room with his tools of torture. Twisting, turning and kicking out Calvin knew he was well and truly overpowered. He wasn't going to be dragged into the tavern. He stretched his neck and bit down into the fleshy arm that held him in a vice like grip, the salty taste of blood cleansing his mouth of reconstituted hay. The man barked in pain and let go of him, clutching at his bleeding arm. Calvin hit the ground running and didn't stop until he stood panting at the Captain's side.
With the horse turd hardening on his face, like a bad mud pack Calvin wheezed, "They're waiting for us Captain. The soldiers, they know we're here. But I know where they are."
He was certain that the La Gongoozler was being watched. Although he'd seen no one, he had a feeling and he trusted that feeling; more times than not it had got him out of a difficult and dangerous place. The other pickpockets nicknamed him el gato, the cat, for the simple fact he seemed to have nine lives... and he could find his way into seemingly impossible places.
The first to leave the boat were the bosun and his motley bunch of side kicks, looking more suspicious than any he'd ever spy the throng on the wharf. Calvin felt the hatred tighten in his chest as the brawny bosun swaggered past him, stinking of old rum. He knew that the bully's over inflated ego could be easily destroyed because Bruno believed he was invincible and thought that he could rough up a small boy without suffering any kind of consequence. He'd seen it before. And even though, by Bruno's standards, he was only a small boy, he'd taken down a giant before and he'd take down Bruno. He was patient.
Pete left next with a steward from the Port Master's Office. A man bled into the crowd from an alley way and fell into step behind Pete and the other grey haired man. Calvin was certain he was one of the cast off soldiers that they'd taken on in A Coruña. Even though the man was dressed in the rags of a beggar, the way he held his body and the crisp steps were a dead give away. He was torn as to whether he should follow them or remain with an eye on the boat as directed.
"I'll follow him," a familiar voice came from behind.
"Father Paolo!"
"Shush Calvin."
"Capt'n says we've got four hours and then we sail."
"I didn't expect to see you all back in Port."
Calvin shrugged his shoulders.
"Capt'n got a little sunburnt. I don't think he wanted to row all the way in."
"I'll see you back on board."
Calvin felt a pat on his back and for a moment all went dark, as Father Paolo cast a shadow across the sun. And then he was gone, having melted into the crowd. Then Calvin saw Ruby balance across the gang plank beautiful in her red dress, carrying a large basket.
"Ruby will be happy to know Father Paolo's back," Calvin muttered and then wondered why he would say that. He didn't know much about religion, but he knew that Fathers like Father Paolo weren't interested in women like Ruby. He'd seen plenty of pilgrims making time at the Brothels on their way to pay homage to St Santiago. But Calvin felt Father Paolo to be upstanding in his faith, not like the Abbot who was a well known customer at Catriona's. Ruby was safe from the attentions of Father Paolo. Calvin smiled and tried not to lose himself in thoughts of what it would be like when he was old enough for Ruby to take him seriously as a man, and not a boy.
Then he saw something catch the sun and flash - a blade? A man, dressed in homespun clothes was leading an ill-tempered horse, hitched to a cart of badly stacked port barrels. He pulled the horse up and leant nonchalantly against a stone wall, as the agitated creature pawed at the ground. He coughed and spat on the ground. Calvin saw a beggar materialise out of an alleyway and join the farrier. He quickly noted that both men had close-cropped heads of hair and were clean shaven. Deep in hushed conversation, Calvin unable to hear above the bustle, what they were saying, though he was certain they were speaking in Spanish. Pablo strode across the wharf, shouting out in disjointed Portuguese, disrupting the two men's conversation and the second man disappeared down the nearest alley way. The farrier greeted Pablo and began animated negotiations with Pablo, who was looking flustered with his lack of mastering of the Portuguese language.
Deciding it better to follow the beggar, than to stay and watch Pablo, Calvin crept from his hiding position, hoping to be able to return to the ship with the location of the soldiers – knowing that the Captain would prefer to deal with them on land.
Finding the beggar easily, he followed at a discreet distance, walking deeper into the dark quarter of the dock area. He heard shouting and swearing, in Spanish, and drew back behind a pile of barrels as men, bloodied and angry from a fight, poured out of an alley and into a dank, ramshackle tavern. It seemed they had run foul of Bruno and his men. Calvin wished that he was braver, stronger, older and that he could follow into the tavern, but his street sense warned him to stay outside, to try and see in or at least count how many other men were in there.
Slinking closer to the tavern, Calvin hid behind a stinking pile of refuse, and he was certain that there was a dead dog or cat decomposing close by. He watched the tavern. The soldiers were sober and well organised, and had obviously been waiting for the return of La Gongoozler. He needed to report this all to the Captain.
"Where do you think you're going boy?" Calvin had been so transfixed with the activity in the tavern he hadn't spotted the surrounding area for look outs like he should have.
Calvin turned to run, and was sprinting towards the ship one moment and hurtling face first into a fresh mound of steaming horse shit the next. Before he could try and wipe his face clean, and scramble away, he was hauled to his feet by the back of his shirt.
"You're that kid from Juan's ships aren't you?"
Calvin stood, spitting horse shit and remembering how fierce Ruby had been when the Giant had her in the tavern room with his tools of torture. Twisting, turning and kicking out Calvin knew he was well and truly overpowered. He wasn't going to be dragged into the tavern. He stretched his neck and bit down into the fleshy arm that held him in a vice like grip, the salty taste of blood cleansing his mouth of reconstituted hay. The man barked in pain and let go of him, clutching at his bleeding arm. Calvin hit the ground running and didn't stop until he stood panting at the Captain's side.
With the horse turd hardening on his face, like a bad mud pack Calvin wheezed, "They're waiting for us Captain. The soldiers, they know we're here. But I know where they are."
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