Hades's Revenge (16 page)

As a hopeful distraction, he helped Olaf
with his mead making.

While the honey, water, and the totem stick
simmered in the large pot filling the room with heat and sweet
aromatic scents, Olaf told him a story of something that happened a
few days ago.

“Ja. I was working on the rigging way up on
the top sail and I got the ropes all in a tangled mess.

“Stubby was below me working on his sail and
laughing something terrible. I thought he was going to tumble out
of his swing he was guffawing so much.

“When I finally started loosening one of the
knots with the tip of my knife, it slipped and sliced my knuckle. I
said, ‘oofta’ out loud and the laughing below me stopped. I looked
down and Stubby says to me, ‘Did you just put a viking curse on
me?’ You know how superstitious Stubby is.”

“Yes, I do. He’s one of the worst,” Jessop
answered enjoying the story.

“No. I says to him. ‘Oofta’ is like you
saying ‘blimey’ or ‘bloody hell’. I don’t know that he believed me,
but I certainly got the last laugh that day.”

“I’ll bet.”

They transferred the heated mix to a large
demijohn and Olaf put a hand blown airlock over the bung hole to
keep any wild yeast from making its way into the mixture and
ruining the batch.

“There we go. Now all we do is wait,” Olaf
said patting the giant bulbous glass bottle with affection.

“How long did you say it takes?”

“A few weeks. You’ll know it’s done when the
raisins float to the top.”

“Interesting. And that’s it, no more mixing
or changing bottles?”

“That’s it. Though some do ferment the
mixture in a harsch crock then transfer it over to a cask or a
bottle. It’s all the way you were taught or what you have
available. For what we’re fixin’ to do and considering where we
are, this will be just fine.”

“Thank you, Olaf. This was great.”

“Nothing like making
mjod
to relax
your mind. I’ve been meaning to ask, but you have seemed
preoccupied of late.”

“I suppose I have. Have you ever had to
carry around a volatile secret—keeping it from your friends and
family?”

“Volatile? No. Damaging? Yes. And it was not
a pleasant time for me.”

“No, I imagine not.”

“Is that why you’ve been reserved?”

“Yes. I figure the less I’m around others,
the less likely I’ll be to say something damaging.”

“That’s a lot to ask of anyone.”

“It is, but there’s not a lot of choice in
the matter.”

“Hmmm. That is a pickle. Everyone has a
secret or two they don’t want shared, but something that could harm
someone, that makes quite a fix.”

“Indeed.”

“The funny thing about secrets is that they
almost always are revealed at some point.”

“That is my worry. That and there’s always
someone digging around in hopes of finding what they can.”

“Oh, yes. Always. If there weren’t secrets,
wouldn’t be a problem,” Olaf chuckled.

“I suppose not,” Jessop said with a
smile.

“I’m guessing you have a ‘digger’ in your
midst?”

“Yes. A very large and dangerous one at
that.”

“You must be referring to Fin.”

“Yes,” Jessop didn’t like admitting.

“He doesn’t much like you, either.”

“No, he does not.”

“I knew a guy like Fin at home. Quiet,
brooding, and always looking for something to give him an advantage
over others.”

“How did you deal with him?”

“Thing about men like that, they often have
a secret of their own. You don’t dig around in someone’s garden
without getting your hands dirty.”

“That’s true.”

“It’s just an observation.”

“Thanks, Olaf. You’ve been a great
help.”

“Any time, Jesse. Anytime.”

Jessop kept a low profile and his inventions
and words to himself. No need to antagonize Fin more than he had
to. He kept to his duties, his lessons with Patrick or whatever her
name was, and listened to Fin’s followers for any clues or news he
could get.

Unfortunately his actions did not go
unnoticed by Fin. One night when Jessop was on deck on his way to
check on the mead’s progress, Fin came out of the shadows and
shoved Jessop up against the railing.

“I found a little something that might be
interesting you, Andrews or should I call you Aster?”

Jessop felt his stomach do a backflip. He
swallowed hard, how could Fin know his true identity.

“What might ye bein’ up to?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,
Fin.”

“Don’t ya? That strikes me odd. I found me a
journal amongst the booty of items we scavenged from the
Victory
. Can ye guess whose that might be?”

“No,” Jessop answered his mind reeling and
searching frantically for a name or an answer as to how this came
to be.

“A Lt. Damian Crock. He has an entry about
ye and yer very wealthy father—Maximillian is it?”

Jessop didn’t answer he tried to show no
emotion whatsoever as Fin revealed his skeletons.

“Don’t know why you’d be keeping such
secrets. I imagine the good lieutenant would have sent ye home to
daddy for a fee. Or did he not have time to correct the mistake his
pressgang had made?

“What I be wantin’ to know is why would ye
be lying about yer name when ye came aboard the
Revenge
?”

“I don’t know, Fin. If you’re so smart, you
tell me?”

“I’m thinkin’ daddy liked to beat ya with
his riding crop, or maybe he liked to…”

But before he could say another word, Olaf
who had just emerged from the middle deck and had overheard a bit
of the conversation, gave Fin a monumental shove surprising him and
throwing him off his balance.

“What…you. This ain’t concernin’ you,
viking.”

“Jesse is my friend and that makes it my
business,” Olaf said.

“That’s not even the lad’s name. It’s
Cornelius of all things.”

“Doesn’t matter. His name could be Dritthode
for all I care. You need to
gi rom
!”

“Or what?”

“I think we both know I’m bigger than you,
I’m stronger than you and in a fight, I will beat you down. Now,
se til helvete å pell deg vekk
!”

“This is far from bein’ over, Aster. I’ll
find out what yer up to one way or the other,” Fin said as he
headed to the quarterdeck.

“Was this your dangerous secret revealed?”
Olaf whispered.

“No…this…this is nothing. The dangerous
secret isn’t mine, it’s just one I have to bear.”

“Well then. That’s a relief.”

“I’m not sure I would agree. Now that he
knows my secret, he’ll dig further to see if there’s more.”

“Will he find something?”

“Not from me, but you know how it is with
trouble—if you go looking for it, it usually finds you.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, but thank you for what you did tonight.
Fin was surely looking for a fight and as frustrated as I’ve been,
he’d probably have found one.”

“Take care of yourself, Jesse, or should I
call you Cornelius?”

“No. Jesse is fine. That’s what my mother
called me—short for Jessop my middle name. Cornelius was my
father’s idea and like most of his ideas, they’re not to my
liking.”

“Goodnight, then Jesse. Sleep well.”

“You, too.”

* * *

A week passed after the incident with Fin.
He did not go to the captain for he felt Fin’s eyes always upon
him. He wouldn’t inform the captain of what had happened and his
true identity until it was safe. They’d already been at sea for
three weeks prior so it was just a matter of time before they would
go to shore for supplies and that was when he’d make contact with
the captain.

They made their way through the Davis
Strait, Labrador Sea, then downward into the Gulf of St. Lawrence
heading to Diamond Island, looking for lone British ships as they
did. Once on land and a night of drinking and eating, Jessop snuck
out of the inn and to the lighthouse making sure he was unseen.

He knocked lightly looking around him in the
darkness of the night when Patrick opened the door and invited him
in.

“I’m sorry to disturb you both, but I needed
to talk to you and I didn’t think it was safe to do on the
ship.”

“What is it?” the captain asked.

“It’s Fin. He’s found a journal from the
Victory
where the quartermaster Crock had noted my
identity.”

“What do you mean your identity?”

“I mean I’m the son of a wealthy
aristocrat—Maxmillian Aster.”

“And you kept your identity hidden,
why?”

“No offense, sir, but we had been captured
by pirates. I didn’t know what I might be getting into if you knew
I was from a wealthy family.”

“Why didn’t you have the
Victory
return you to your family? I’m sure they would have given your
lineage’s ties to the king.”

“I imagine they would have had we gone to
port, but we were attacked by the
Revenge
before it could
all be arranged.”

“What is your given name,” asked the
captain’s daughter.

“I could ask you the same,” Jessop
retorted.

The captain chuckled. “I guess you two
really haven’t been properly introduced, now have you. May I
present to you my daughter, Patience Hartly.”

“It’s a pleasure. My given name is Cornelius
Jessop Aster. I’ve always hated the name Cornelius and took the
opportunity of being away from my father to be recognized as Jesse
instead.”

“Though I admit I’m surprised by your
identity admission I don’t think it is something to be alarmed
about.”

“That in itself is not the issue, the
problem is that Fin is digging and he won’t be happy until he finds
something that he can use against us. I told you Fin’s men have
been suspicious about where it is you go when we’re here…If I can
easily find that out, don’t you think it’s plausible they might do
the same?”

Jessop turned to Patience and said, “And
you, you cannot be wearing such garb in the presence of the
captain.”

“What? I haven’t been clean and in a dress
in weeks, I…”

Her complaints resonated in his head. Seeing
her washed, her hair up hanging spirals down to her neck. “You…It’s
you, isn’t it. All this time I knew I had met you somewhere. You’re
egg woman. You’re Miss Patti.”

His head ached. How could he have not
noticed it before? He couldn’t think—heck he couldn’t breathe. He
backed away from her as if just being around her was lethal. He
tripped over a stool fell backwards hitting his head on a nearby
table making stars appear before his eyes before everything washed
to a gray-black.

* * *

Jessop felt something snug around his head.
His eyes opened and blinked several times. He didn’t know where he
was. Nothing looked familiar until a face appeared before him—her
face.

“It’s okay. You’ve hit your head pretty hard
on the table,” she said to him.

If he could have moved away from her, he
would have, but his back was firm against a bed and his head hurt
too much to move much.

“Here, drink this,” she offered strange
smelling tea.

“What is it?”

“Just drink it. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” he said with alarm.

“Yes. It’s not my fault you’re
uncoordinated. I didn’t push you over the stool.”

“Patience. Give the man a moment. He’s only
just awoken after a good fall.”

“Fine,” she said in a huff setting the tea
cup down hard on the side table.

“How are you feeling, Jesse?” the captain
asked.

“A little foggy, sir.”

“I can imagine. I want to thank you for
coming here last night to warn us of Fin and his meddling. You’re
right, we need to be more cautious about our dealings with
him—especially you, Patience.”

“Me? What did I do, Daddy?”

“Jesse has been kind enough to keep our
secret, which I’m sure has been no easy task. Fin’s turned his eye
to Jesse for the moment, but he’ll be back to us soon enough. I
know this has been hard on you, Patience, but it’s going to get a
whole lot worse when he starts sniffing around us. No more midnight
showers. I suggest too, that you start binding your chest.”

“But no one can see anything with these big
blousy shirts.”

“Maybe not, but what if you bump into
someone. Something as innocent as bumping you with an elbow could
reveal your femininity. Best be safe.”

“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled.

“You think I like seeing my beautiful
daughter dressed like a ragamuffin sailor? No. It kills me, but
dressed like a man and close to me where I can protect you if need
be.”

Jessop was fading in and out during the
conversation, but he got the gist of it. He was still trying to
make his brain figure out how he had not recognized Patrick all
this time to be Patti, but it was no use, it wasn’t working well
and he was starting to get a little nauseated thinking at all.

He drank the tea Patti made for him and
after twenty minutes or more, he was actually able to sit up and
focus on objects around the room. Patti was dressed in her Patrick
clothing, though she seemed to be pouting about it.

Patti was able to get food down Jessop and
later they went outside for a walk for fresh air and to get Jessop
up and about. He kept his distance from Patti. It was obvious she
noted it.

They came to a bluff where a large downed
tree laid and he asked if they could sit. He was having problems
breathing, something that he’d always had trouble with this time of
year. He coughed with every other breath or so, making his head
pound in pain.

Patti said, “Look at us…we’re sitting next
to one another and you haven’t hurt yourself or me?”

Jessop stared at her smirking face for a
moment until all he could do was laugh.

“Maybe there’s hope for me *cough* after
all,” he sniggered.