The Story So Far - October 2008

Previous story so far posts:
Story So Far - June to August 2008
Story So Far - September 2008

La Gongoozler, under it's new Phoenix flag, is pulling into dock at the Port of Lisbon. Juan intends the ship to stay only a short time, long enough for any remaining crew members who want to sign back on to come aboard. He asks Bruno to take three trusted men and gather those who want to return, but not to harm those who wish to stay. Above all, he warns Bruno that he wants to avoid trouble.

In Lisbon, Bruno and his gang encounter the soldiers that had been sent by the Marquis. They begin to fight, and soon the men are outnumbered and fleeing for their lives. They lose their pursuers, and find themselves close to their objective - the still they intend to steal to make their own rum.

Bruno directs the others to the workshop of Amos, who can build them a still. They pretend to be merchants, instructed by a man called Torish to obtain a still to take back to Court. Amos tells them it will take him a week to build one, and he begins to look for the parts. The gang realise that they don't know how to work the complicated device they are going to steal, so Fielden decidees they should kidnap Amos so that he can work the still on board the ship. Safely securing him, Fielden tells Garcia to find Bruno.

The ship's cabin boy Calvin has been observing the comings and goings from the ship, convinced that they are under watch. He spots Bruno and his companions heading off, then notices that Pete is being followed by one of the soldiers thrown off the ship. He is struggling to decide whether to follow or remain on watch as directed, when Father Paolo appears, and tells him that he will follow the soldier.

Calvin then sees Ruby head into the markets, but is distracted by two men, a farrier and a beggar, neither of whom look the part. He spots a blade flashing, before Pablo interrupts the two men. The beggar slips away, and Calvin decides to follow, rather than watch the farrier that Pablo is talking to. He tails the beggar to a tavern, narrowly avoiding the angry soldiers that Bruno and his men had encountered. He tries to return to the ship to report that the soldiers were waiting for them, but is spotted by a lookout, and narrowly escapes capture, making it to the ship in time to warn the Captain.

In the market, Ruby is trying to find supplies to help heal the Captain's sunburn, when Father Paolo surprises her and tells her that he is to escort her back to the ship, as the soldiers are gathering, and trouble is soon to follow. As they gather the last of the ingredients, Paolo spots that they are being followed. Ruby knows somewhere they will be safe, and leads him through the narrow streets to an opium den, where she is already expected by the mysterious Chee Hung...

Lisbon

Ruby walked quickly towards the market, the cold metal of her father's dagger warming against her the skin of her inner arm. The crowd had felt liberating a few days earlier, but now the urgency of her trip, left her without the exhilaration she always revelled in. Her unease was aggravated by the certainty that someone was following her, but in the melee of the market she could not find who it was, despite stopping numerous times with the ruse of purchasing something. Unlike A Coruña there were no open spaces to sit and observe, and the light net veil she wore to hide the scar on her face, obstructed her vision.

She paused to purchase a cup of lemonade and to banter casually with the vendor. Her Portuguese was awful, and smiling a lot did not work from behind the veil. The old woman soon glared at her for not moving on, it seemed she was bad for business. Ruby drained the cup and gave it back to the woman, trying to decide the safest part of the market, as her unease was growing.

"Lady Lilith!"

A strong arm slipped around her waist, and pulled her close.

"Matthew?"

She looked up to see the Priest by her side and pulled the veil aside to smile at him. A week in Lisbon seemed like an eternity away from him. She dropped the basket and threw her arms around him, in a display of affection that the Priest was obviously unused to, but not altogether uncomfortable with. He reached down to pick up her basket.

"Trouble's brewing. The Marquis soldiers are rallying. I've come to escort you back to the ship."

"I need to get a few things first. Some honey and maybe the local cure for sunburn."

"Yes I heard the Captain is sunburnt."

"I'm sure that's news he's glad of being on the grapevine."

"How did he get sunburnt."

"Too much sun."

"Touché my lady."

They walked on; Ruby searching out with ease the stalls that she knew would sell honey and discovered at another stall, with girlish delight, the lime green, spiked tentacles of the aloe vera plant, recently arrived on ships from the New World. The vendor, a young woman with a baby suckling from her breast, assured her of the plants healing properties, especially for sunburn, translated in halting Portuguese by the Priest. For a while Ruby was able to enjoy the market with the Priest, more so when she found she had a way to converse with the stall holders, but the ship's departure hung over both their heads.

"Are you armed?" the Priest asked, bending down to whisper it in is ear.

"Always."

"With what?"

"A dagger. Why?"

"We're being followed?"

Ruby stopped and pulled a dark cloak from the basket.

"I know somewhere safe," Ruby said. In one fluid movement she ripped the veil from her head and pulled the hood on. She pushed between an orange cart and another laden with lemons. Father Paolo gave the orange cart a shove, and the cart fell side ways disgorging its contents in their wake, angry shouts following them.

Ruby pulled up her skirts in the same arm as her basket and ran, winding her way through alleyways no wider than a few feet, through washing strung between buildings and finally pushing through a tiny door, dragging Father Paolo after her.

"We're safe here," Ruby panted, crouching down to catch her breath and pushing the door shut.

"What is this place?"

"An opium house. It's a drug – you smoke it. It makes you numb."

Father Paolo remembered Maria telling him of such places, but knew that they were secret places that ordinary individuals did not just wander into.

"How do you know about this place?" he whispered into her ear.

"I was lead here."

She stayed crouching down, waiting for her breathe to return before she went deeper into the building.

"Your cross is gone," she said, reaching out with her good hand to his chest where the simple wooden crucifix had hung. "You made your decision then."

"I made my decision long ago, I just didn't know it."

"And Rome?"

"Rome will do without me."

Ruby stood up, gathering her basket and walked down the cool low corridor. Father Paolo stooped to follow her, the hallway terminating in a large dark room swimming with pungent blue smoke.

"Try not to breathe it in," Ruby said, moving her way among those lounging on plush piles of cushions, ornate pipes in their hands and stupid grins on their face. She walked to a lady, the most exotic creature that Father Paolo had ever seen, with sensuous almond shaped eyes, heavily outlined in koal and accentuated with gold in a startling comet tail from her eyelids up to her arched eyebrows. An Oriental style gown of gold and purple clung to her curvaceous form, from her neck to her slim ankles.

Ruby lowered the basket to the floor, pulled back the hood and bowed deeply.

"Madame Chang, I come seeking Chee Hung."

"He is expecting you."

Calvin

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."

Still - we have Lisbon (Part 3)

"Hello boys, come in for a short time or a long time – but I'll guarantee you a good time," purred a scantily clad, curvaceous vision by a doorway. Her ruby lips puckered and promised sensuous things. Bruno's eyes could hardly tear themselves away to modestly look in a different direction.

"Are... you the lady with the snake?" The words blurted out unbidden and he wished he had control of his blathering mouth to stop any further indiscretions.

Her tinkling laughter enticed him. "No love, that's Therese, and she's a performance artist. You can find her two doors down. But she's busy with the new ship what came in yesterday."

"The whole ship?" Bruno asked in site of himself.

She laughed again. "Yeah, that's nothing for her and that snake of hers." Twirling her hair slowly and slightly licking her parted lips, she asked, "So, can I entertain you until she is ready for you?"

"Bruno, we have business," hissed Fielden.

Clearing his throat and weakly giving her a wave good bye, Bruno turned and said, "Not with me – Captain said I had to stay out of trouble. The place you are looking for is through that gap in the buildings – tell them Torish sent you to speak with Amos. I'm... ahh... going two doors down to check things out. Give a yell if you need me." With that he strode purposefully off.

Fielden motioned the others to follow him and sauntered confidently through the alley, rapping on the thick door at the end. A tiny sliding panel opened at the top of the door and suspicious eyes peered out.

"We are here to speak with Amos." Fielden said in a bored tone.

"Yeah? Says who?" came the reply.

Smoothly countering with "Torish sends his best regards," Fielden inspected his fingernails.

"Huh – I bet he does. I didn't think he was still alive. Come in quickly," was the muffled reply as locks clicked and turned.

The men were ushered into a small room crammed with dusty bottles and tubing hanging from the ceiling. Dozens of cats wound their bodies around them in greeting.

The bent figure fluttered his hands about in apology. "Sorry, there's nowhere to sit, I have my stock everywhere at the moment. I'm Amos."

The men allowed their eyesight to adjust the gloomy interior, which now seemed writhing in furry bodies.

Fielden gave a slight bow. "Lucio Mattis – Merchant and Businessman. Señor Torish sent us to enquire about you building him a still. We are to take it back to him when we return to the Royal Courts."

Amos howled with laughter. "He did, did he? Well I owe him that at least." He looked about on the ceiling and grabbed a few parts down, muttering to himself. "I don't have all the piping I need. It will take about a week for me to secure the correct gauges."

"A week!" spluttered Peitro.

"Peace Peter" hushed Fielden. "That will be fine. I am however, curious to this contraption we are taking back to Torish. It's not dangerous is it?"

Another howl of laughter from Amos confirmed to the group that he was either drunk or mad; or perhaps a mixture of both.

"Let me show you around." Amos said, lifting a tabby cat from a bench top. He then removed a large cloth from an oddly shaped table with a flourish.

A crazy mass of pipes and bubbling vessels, punctuated by a little hiss of steam and a constant drip fizzed and popped from underneath. Amos grabbed a dirty earthen mug from the floor and pushed it under the thick drip, collecting a good stream of it. He thrust it into Peitro's hands and encouraged him to drink. Peitro's face turned a shade of crimson, but his pride refused to allow him to splutter or gag.

"Humm, yes it's alright." He croaked managing to review the liquid without flames emitting from his mouth.

"So, how does this all work?" Fielden enquired.

Delighted to have an interested group, Amos plunged into a detailed explanation, but after about five minutes, the mens' eyes glazed over. Undeterred Amos continued, unwilling to set his captive audience free until they understood each intricate working of his invention.

Garcia began to jiggle the iron shot in his pockets, eager to get some action happening. Fielden put a hand on his shoulder – "Not yet lad. Our time will come." Looking at Amos, he continued, "We must be off with other errands."

Amos nodded and then suddenly poked a finger in the air and exclaimed, "Where are my manners? Wait here, I'll give a you a bottle to take back to your digs while you wait for me to put this still together for Señor Torish."

Calisto whispered out of the side of his mouth, "There's no way we are going to be able to make this thing work."

Groaning, Pietro replied, "We have to – otherwise it's port for the next year."

"He's got to come with us. He'll have to make it for us," exclaimed Fielden. Then summarizing his plan whilst tentatively looking toward the doorway in which Amos had disappeared, he directed, "Calisto – you grab him when he comes out, and tie him up. Peitro – get some blankets and some boxes – we need to get this thing back on board in one piece. Start loading it up carefully once Amos is secured."

"What can I do?" Garcia eagerly cried, fuse in hand.

Smiling Fielden put his hand on his shoulder, "Not yet, Garcia and put that away. Go and get Bruno – he's down with the snake lady."

A cry of alarm and a shattering of bottles distracted their conversation. Spinning around, they discovered Amos struggling on the floor with Peitro sitting atop and Calisto swinging madly with the leg of a chair.

"Stop that!" Feilden cried, "You'll kill him." He sighed heavily, grabbing the leg from Calisto. "Do I need to do everything?"

Amos's panicked eyes closed slowly as drifted into an oxygen deprived unconscious state. Feilden released his hands from his mouth and nose and ensured Amos's breathing returned to normal before standing up. "Now just gag him and tie him up." He ordered.

Still - we have Lisbon (Part 2)

Bruno made his way around the busy crew and tapped the shoulders of Fielden, Pietro, Calisto and Garcia; whispering a quiet word in their ears. The followed him to one side as he relayed his orders and cemented the plan to secure a still.

Garcia enthusiastically nodded and shot off to a corner, stuffing his pockets with fuses, shot and powder.

"What are you doing lad?" Bruno asked.

He grinned, "You never know when you need something to go boom."

"Yeah right. The Captain specifically told me to stay out of trouble" Bruno replied shaking his head.

Quietly Rael asked, "Are you sure he needs to go?"

"Listen to me. Garcia has the gift. He can burn and blow things up underwater. Anyone got a problem with him – sees me." Bruno glared at the surrounding men who all looked away quickly.

Fielden walked up the stairs shrugging a dark merchants jacket on over his chambray shirt and had pulled on some fine leather boots. He stopped and looked at the incredulous looks of the other men.

"What? I have to look the part. Just because we don't have any gold we don't need to look like it."

Shaking his head again, Bruno said, "I'm not even going to ask where you got those."

As soon as the ship had been secured to the dock, the small group swaggered nonchalantly down the gang plank and melted into the alleyways. Pete stopped what he was doing and watched them go, frowning and wishing he hadn't noticed them. Garcia's bulging shirt gave him some clues to his intentions and he would rather not know any other details. Pete set about to ensure they would be ready to cast off for a speedy disembarkment, should the circumstances require it.

They shouldered their way single file through the alleyways with Bruno in the lead.

A pitiful whine from one of the men "Are we lost?" angered Bruno who stormed ahead wordlessly. Coming to a small courtyard in front of a tumbledown inn, Bruno came to a standstill, hailing a huddled rag-tag group of beggars sitting about a makeshift table and chairs. "Well if it ain't our old ship mates, the ‘merchants'. I see you have found your true calling." Bruno's entourage laughed at the pitiful cluster.

"You'll be laughing on the other side of your face soon." challenged one of them. "Sailors need a ship… a ship needs sailors…" On cue, shadows in the alleyways took form. "The Marquis won't take us being evicted like we were, lightly. He has friends everywhere."

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruno could see some of them were armed with bludgeoning weapons, rusted knives and cast-off farming implements. He clenched his huge fists tightly and punched one in the air. "One in, all in lads. Up the Gongoozler!"

With a shout, the bedraggled merchants leapt to action, attacking the four sailors with all the pent up frustration and anger they had held for a week. Although the Marquis's men were classically trained in rapier, short sword and pike, the urban landscape and makeshift weaponry evened the odds between them and the sailors; well versed in tavern brawls and rough skirmishes. Bruno's ham-like fists swung with deafening accuracy; carving a path away from the courtyard and into an alley. Fielden had picked up a broom from a doorway and snapped the head from it and was now wielding it above his head, sending the splintered end down on any who ventured close enough to be reached. As soon as a clear escape could be seen, the men broke into a run; their hearts beating and breath labouring as they sprinted away.

They kept running through the twisting lanes and back streets till the sound of pursuit was long gone.

Breathing hard, Bruno bent over with his hands on his knees and puffed, "No shame in it lads – Those who run away get to fight another day."

He then looked up and brightly exclaimed, "Hey, I think we're close. Come on – this way!"

Preparations to dock (Part 1)

With all hands on deck and aching heads and dreams of rum momentarily set aside, a set of sails were hauled into place and La Gongoozler caught the wind, turned and moved slowly towards the heads. Bruno pulled down the plague flag, folded it and ran up the Phoenix that the Captain had entrusted to him. He liked the fierce and proud bird that blazed against the white back drop. It seemed as good a flag to sail under as any other now that they belonged only to themselves.

Once he was done he went below to see the Captain, who was standing uncomfortably at the map table, looking as though he was bracing himself against an invisible foe. Bruno passed Juan the folded flag and tried not to stare at him. Juan looked like a totally different man without his hair and his beard, less flamboyant and with a harder edge. If he was honest, it left Bruno a little uncomfortable with the Captain's make over.

"When we make port Bruno, you and three of those you trust go find the rest of the crew and let them know we're in port." Juan grimaced as the frigate caught the swell side-on and began to roll, forcing him to go with the motion. "We'll be there until the turn of tide, less than four hours and then we sail. I can't wait for anyone. I'll be on deck personally to sign all crew who want to come back."

"Aye Capitán."

"And no funny business."

Bruno cocked his head and flashed a mischievous grin.

"No funny business is my middle name Capitán."

"You assured me of the same thing before Sardinia."

"That was different Capitán."

"It always is with you Bruno."

"What about the men who don't want to come back on board?"

"You leave them. No rough stuff, no threats – everyone comes back on of their own free will."

"Aye Capitán."

"I'm serious!"

"I understand Capitán."

"I need us in and out of Lisbon – with military precision. Once on board every one is to be at their post with weapons close by."

"You're expecting trouble."

"I'm expecting that the soldiers we frog marched off the boat a week ago are going to want to get back on."

"Shall we deal with them before they become a problem?" That would likely play havoc with their plans of seizing the still.

"No. I just want to see how it's played out. They might be drunk in a tavern somewhere or down in that whore house with the lady with the snake."

"You've seen her!"

"I've been to Lisbon before Bruno. And I think she prefers to be called a performance artist."

"Of course. I'll get the men ready." Bruno didn't dare admit that he'd never seen her, the lady with the snake - be damned if young Calvin was going to have seen something that he hadn't.

Bruno had heard that the Captain was in no fit state to fight and having seen him, he could believe it now. He had to admit that he wasn't up for a brawl either. He hoped that the soldiers were all drunk or hidden away. He just wanted to tumble back into his hammock and be left alone with his antsy stomach, rather than wander the dock area of Lisbon searching for drunken crew. He resolved if there was time, and he could always make time, to stop by the whore house to see to that lady with the snake – now that was worth staying out of his hammock for. And he'd swagger past the distillery just to make sure all was going to plan – ensure no one was getting themselves into any trouble - just as he'd promised the Captain.