Pirates of the Storm (Stranded In Time Book 1) by Fletcher Best Page A

second boat. “It should make for a
shorter distance to carry the supplies.”
    “Aye, Captain,” Crabtree
acknowledged.
    As they approached the shore, Jeff and
the others jumped out in the shallow water to pull the boats up
onto the sand. “Welcome to Port Royal, Mr. Greene!” the Captain
said with a smile. The Captain led the group toward the small row
of buildings that made up the town of Port Royal. As they
approached the first building, the Captain announced, “We shall
replenish our supplies here at the mercantile. It will take us a
few trips to load the boats and at least three trips with the boats
to restock the ship.” The group entered the building through a
rickety door that barely clung to its hinges.
    “Captain Coxen! Good to see you!” said
a tall, thin man who stood behind the front counter.
    “My good Mr. Franklin, how have you
been?” the Captain inquired.
    “Good, thank you, though could use
some more business as I hope ye be here to bring me.”
    “Aye,” Nodded the Captain, pulling a
piece of paper from his coat. Coxen handed the paper to Franklin
and said, “I trust you can supply all of this?”
    “Aye,” nodded the shopkeeper, “Except
for the salted pork. I don’t have as much as ye require. I can make
it up in dried goat meat if that be acceptable.”
    “Aye, that will have to do,” the
Captain nodded in agreement.
    “New crewman?” Franklin asked, nodding
at Jeff.
    “A guest on my ship who came to us in
the storm. It remains to be seen whether he shall join the crew.
Mr. Greene, meet Mr. Franklin.”
    “My pleasure, Mr. Franklin,” Jeff
said, bowing. Franklin bowed in return.
    “Well, Mr. Greene, if ye choose to
stay in Port Royal and ye need employment, I could use a
stockman.”
    “What happened to your other stockman?
Thomas wasn’t it?” the Captain inquired.
    “He got into a row at the tavern last
week and the other fellow cut his throat. A pity. Though he was not
so brilliant, Thomas was a strong lad and very
trustworthy.”
    “A pity indeed,” the Captain agreed.
“Well, Mr. Greene, if you decide to stay in Port Royal, you could
do worse than to work for Mr. Franklin.”
    “Yes, I shall keep your offer in mind,
Mr. Franklin. Thank you.”
    “Ye might not thank me if you take the
job,” Franklin replied. “It is backbreaking work, but I make up for
it with low wages,” he said with a laugh. “Speaking of backbreaking
work, we should get started with your order, Captain.”
    “Aye,” the Captain agreed.
    Franklin set about leading the men
through the stacks of merchandise and directing what to pull out.
“Mr. Greene will be needing some clothing as well,” the Captain
said.
    Franklin motioned Jeff to a large
chest. “There should be something fer ye in there, Mr. Greene. Pull
out what ye like.” Jeff rummaged through the chest and found a
couple of sets of simple clothes to fit him as the others finished
assembling the supplies. Judging from the large wooden crates and
burlap sacks they had gathered, Jeff knew there was going to be
some hard work ahead to get the items back to the boats.
    “Ye be welcome to use my wagon,
Captain, but my mule ran off and ye would have to move the wagon
yourselves, so it might be easier to just carry your
supplies.”
    “ Aye, everyone carry what
you can and make for the boats,” the Captain ordered. Jeff tucked
his new clothes inside his shirt, squatted down, and hoisted three
sacks of dried beans onto his shoulder before struggling to his
feet.
    “Not bad, Mr. Greene,” Graves said,
holding 2 sacks on his own shoulder. I took ye for a bit o’ a
priss, like Robinson here, since neither o’ ye has a proper
beard!”
    “Fuck you, Graves!” Robinson
shouted.
    “Best be careful what ye say ‘bout
Robinson, Mr. Graves,” Crabtree warned, “He does prepare your
meals!”
    “Just jokin’, Robinson. I meant no
offense!” Graves quickly spoke up.
    “Shut your mouth and let’s
get these loads to the boats,”