Sailing Mate from
Captain LeFleur after Corbin had left, but he had been told that
for this voyage he was taking over as Sailing Master. No more
Sailing Mate. Now he answered to no one, served no one but Captain
LeFleur. And he would happily serve the man that had offered him so
much until he could get a ship and a crew of his own. When that day
came, he would sail to England and face his father with pride. He
wondered from time to time how James was doing, but over three
years had passed since he had seen him. He assumed James was doing
well… he would be ten now and probably still acting like the
perfect disciplined boy he’d been when Brant left. Shaking the
thoughts of his past, of a family he left behind out of his head,
Brant joined Captain LaFleur in his cabin to look over their
intended course.
He had
attended countless numbers of these meetings when he had been
learning under Corbin and then LaFleur, but now it was his turn to
take charge. He knew what to do. In the last year he had pretty
much been doing everything himself with LaFleur only watching over
his shoulder and putting in suggestions when needed. He was
confident in his knowledge and in his skills and he knew that he
wouldn’t fail; nevertheless it was a daunting thing to be called
before the captain to do the job he had been trained in completely
on his own for the first time.
Brant looked
over the map that LaFleur was showing him and pointed at a
location. “Here is where we’re at. We’re traveling at about fifteen
knots right now. You want to get to Tortuga, best way would be
along here,” Brant explained as he traced a route along the worn
paper.
“ But?” asked LeFleur.
“ Won’t be many ships along this route.”
LeFleur
nodded. “I want to take the most direct route to Tortuga so we can
empty the hold. We’re sitting low in the water and it’s slowing us
down too much. Also, we can’t keep having Harold do repairs on the
ocean like this. We’ve taken too much damage in the last few
raids.”
“ We should try to avoid storms as much as possible. It’s
getting late in the season. Could be some big ones starting to
brew.” Brant had been watching the sky earlier. He didn’t like the
look of the clouds that seemed to be chasing them down faster than
they could sail, and he wasn’t sure that the BlackFox was in any shape to weather
a big gale. LeFleur had pushed them hard this season, barely
letting them make port, having Harold do repairs on the run as much
as possible. The last raid they had to run from with their tail
between their legs, their beautiful ship barely limping
away.
“ It is, but we have to go a bit longer. We’ll dock at Tortuga
and spend the summer months there.”
“ If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, why Tortuga? We just left
Port Royale.”
“ Port Royale is taking in heavy trade and I don’t want to
trade, I want gold. Tortuga is a good place for that.”
“ Gold that is not taxable to the King?”
“ If we play our cards right.”
Brant pressed
his lips together, holding back the words that were brewing inside.
LeFleur was taking risks; pushing both the men and his ship harder
than ever; going later into the season than was advisable; and now
trying to cheat the King of gold that was, according to the letter
of Marque, rightfully his.
LeFleur was
getting up in age. Was he trying to cash in for retirement?
Whatever it was, something wasn’t adding up.
Brant took his
leave and went to set the ship on the course they discussed. It was
a time consuming job, but he had a good crew that could adjust the
sails quickly and efficiently for their purposes. Of all the crews
Brant could have been serving with, without this group of men—as
rough as they were—he wouldn’t be where he was today.
* * *
The summer
storm months were usually dull, but this year was particularly so.
Normally the crew settled in Port Royale, and Brant would spend the
months with Corbin and Anna. There, he had
Captain LeFleur after Corbin had left, but he had been told that
for this voyage he was taking over as Sailing Master. No more
Sailing Mate. Now he answered to no one, served no one but Captain
LeFleur. And he would happily serve the man that had offered him so
much until he could get a ship and a crew of his own. When that day
came, he would sail to England and face his father with pride. He
wondered from time to time how James was doing, but over three
years had passed since he had seen him. He assumed James was doing
well… he would be ten now and probably still acting like the
perfect disciplined boy he’d been when Brant left. Shaking the
thoughts of his past, of a family he left behind out of his head,
Brant joined Captain LaFleur in his cabin to look over their
intended course.
He had
attended countless numbers of these meetings when he had been
learning under Corbin and then LaFleur, but now it was his turn to
take charge. He knew what to do. In the last year he had pretty
much been doing everything himself with LaFleur only watching over
his shoulder and putting in suggestions when needed. He was
confident in his knowledge and in his skills and he knew that he
wouldn’t fail; nevertheless it was a daunting thing to be called
before the captain to do the job he had been trained in completely
on his own for the first time.
Brant looked
over the map that LaFleur was showing him and pointed at a
location. “Here is where we’re at. We’re traveling at about fifteen
knots right now. You want to get to Tortuga, best way would be
along here,” Brant explained as he traced a route along the worn
paper.
“ But?” asked LeFleur.
“ Won’t be many ships along this route.”
LeFleur
nodded. “I want to take the most direct route to Tortuga so we can
empty the hold. We’re sitting low in the water and it’s slowing us
down too much. Also, we can’t keep having Harold do repairs on the
ocean like this. We’ve taken too much damage in the last few
raids.”
“ We should try to avoid storms as much as possible. It’s
getting late in the season. Could be some big ones starting to
brew.” Brant had been watching the sky earlier. He didn’t like the
look of the clouds that seemed to be chasing them down faster than
they could sail, and he wasn’t sure that the BlackFox was in any shape to weather
a big gale. LeFleur had pushed them hard this season, barely
letting them make port, having Harold do repairs on the run as much
as possible. The last raid they had to run from with their tail
between their legs, their beautiful ship barely limping
away.
“ It is, but we have to go a bit longer. We’ll dock at Tortuga
and spend the summer months there.”
“ If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, why Tortuga? We just left
Port Royale.”
“ Port Royale is taking in heavy trade and I don’t want to
trade, I want gold. Tortuga is a good place for that.”
“ Gold that is not taxable to the King?”
“ If we play our cards right.”
Brant pressed
his lips together, holding back the words that were brewing inside.
LeFleur was taking risks; pushing both the men and his ship harder
than ever; going later into the season than was advisable; and now
trying to cheat the King of gold that was, according to the letter
of Marque, rightfully his.
LeFleur was
getting up in age. Was he trying to cash in for retirement?
Whatever it was, something wasn’t adding up.
Brant took his
leave and went to set the ship on the course they discussed. It was
a time consuming job, but he had a good crew that could adjust the
sails quickly and efficiently for their purposes. Of all the crews
Brant could have been serving with, without this group of men—as
rough as they were—he wouldn’t be where he was today.
* * *
The summer
storm months were usually dull, but this year was particularly so.
Normally the crew settled in Port Royale, and Brant would spend the
months with Corbin and Anna. There, he had
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