The Pirate Devlin (22 page)

  Outside, the familiar sounds drew the tall man in like a siren's song. His square-tailed crimson coat was smeared with pitch. Across his chest he wore braces of pistols, six in all, two of which hung at the end of a sling of red silk round his neck.

  The black matted beard began just above his waistcoat and covered half his dark, narrow face, mingling with the coarse black hair that cascaded down his back, all topped with a broad black tricorne.

  In one movement he downed the dregs of a green bottle and sent it smashing to the ground. He grinned up at the sign, crudely depicting a sailor in a cutter boat harpooning a great white that had leaped half out of the water, and then ducked beneath it and through the door.

  Edward Teach had returned to Providence.

Chapter Ten

  Above the revelry, in one of the gaudy sweating rooms of the Porker's End, Patrick Devlin, dressed in shirt and breeches, lay languidly on his side across a tousled bed, toying with a doubloon, spinning it repeatedly upon the dusty surface of a short cabinet beside the bed.

  The room was dark. A small oil lamp at the window lit barely half the room, and threw fluttering shadows upon the naked shoulders of the young woman putting up her tawny hair in front of a speckled mirror.

  She hummed an unrecognisable melody to herself, seemingly unaware of the man on the bed behind her, or the dancing of the coin as it fell again and again.

  Without turning she spoke, quietly, in a soft Carolina accent. 'Where you be going after Providence, Patrick Devlin?' she asked.

  'I have an island I have to pay homage to, Sarah.' He spoke absently, never removing his concentration from the spinning coin.

  'For more doubloons, no wonder. Don't suppose I'll be getting one of those at all?' She turned to look lovingly at him, revealing her small bruised breasts.

  'Three pieces of eight, my girl, and be thankful. It used to take me six months to earn that in shillings.'

  'Lucky me.' She turned back to her mirror. 'Why do you rovers need so much money, anyways? None of you ever lives to spend it all, from what I see.'

  Devlin paused the coin for a moment. 'Oh, I intend to stop, Sarah. I'll take my fill and I'll part my ways. And as to why? The coin is the most of it, that's true, but there's more. We don't take money from the likes of you.' He stretched out, his hand high in the air, admiring the coin between his fingers. 'We take only that which people think belongs to them. The monies they take from the hearts and backs of men. Piracy is not theft. I understand that much. I could spend my life breaking into the homes of the poor and stealing all I need to live on and nobody would raise a sniff. But take a hogshead of sugar from the interests of a gentleman, that's a different matter. That's interfering with the grease of the world. That's a degradation in the ledger of the mighty. That's half the bloody navy on your arse protecting the greed of a handful of men.' He went back to spinning his coin.

  'Aye, you're all bloody heroes. Shame, then, that nobody's ever pleased to see you. Now me? Wherever I go, everybody's pleased to see me and the girls. Light up the world, we do.'

  She was startled by the violent slapping of the coin on the wood, and crossed her arms across her breasts in alarm, whipping her neck to him, cursing.

  'You bloody fool! You nearly gave me a failure banging the table like that!'

  'Say that again, Sarah!' He sat up urgently.

  'Say what again?'

  'You're true as they come, Sarah my girl! Every man is always glad to see a whore! Every sailor and every soldier! You've earned this doubloon, my girl, and another if you come sailing with me!'

  'Do what now?'

  'Tell me, girl, do you have any French ladies here?'

  Through the sudden tension in the small room, amid the sounds of laughter and music below, the muffled shot of a pistol cracked. The music stopped.

  Devlin grabbed his sword belt and pistol before stumbling, bootless, through the door. Sarah opened her mouth to protest at the suddenness of his departure, but closed it when she saw the shining gold coin still lighting up the room.

  For the second time that evening, Dandon found himself pinned unceremoniously to the filthy wall, this time by a powerful right forearm; the left hand was pointing a pistol mouth at his sweating temple.

  'I beseech you, Captain Teach,' Dandon spoke calmly, despite choking on the arm at his neck. 'I was not of suggesting that the odour was related to your personage entering the tavern, merely if anyone could inform me of its source, that is all!'

  Teach's pupils were needle-holes, the whites of his eyes growing every sweating second.

  'Dandelion! Every time I see you I wants to kill you more!'

  'We are agreed, then, that absence is our preferred situation. We should follow on such a notion, surely, so as not to displease the nature of the world.' Dandon grinned his most effacing gold-capped smile. Teach could see his own savage, skeletal rack reflected in their sheen.

  'You're not worthy of pistol shot, you wretch!' Teach pushed the dragoon pistol into his belt and released his arm from Dandon's throat, only to replace it a breath later with the tapered tip of his cutlass. 'I’ll run you through likes I been promising since I first saw you!'

  Sam Morwell was standing, along with his brethren, all of them half reaching for their own weapons, unsure of the proper tack to take against the man about whom even pirates spoke only in whispers.

  'He's no weapons, Teach! Leave him be!' he pleaded.

  'Bide your steel, boys!' Teach glared back at them with a sweep of his head. 'Else you'll all follow his judgement!'

  'Come now! Judgement, is it?' Devlin's voice rang from the flight of stairs at the back of the tavern. 'Leave the devil some work!'

  Teach had to swing round to see the owner of the voice. All eyes in the room watched Devlin, sans stockings and boots, levelling his pistol at the tall, black-framed pirate, his sword belt in his left hand.

  'Did I disturb you, sir?' Teach queried. All the heads in the room, sensing a contest, sidled back to Teach, whose beard lifted up as he grinned. 'But I'd put that pistol away. Before I do. My business is none of yours.'

  The expectant faces weaved back to Devlin, who took a soft step down the stairs.

  'As you notice -
"Teach"
, was it? - I have nowheres to secrete my pistol. So I must either drop it or have it dropped for me. And I'm loath to risk a dent to my pistol by my own hand. Which is it to be, Teach?'

  Dandon felt his breath return to him in relief that Teach's attention was distracted.

  'Do you not know me, man?' Teach asked, lowering his sword almost in disbelief.

  'I am new to Providence. I got the name. Other than that I have responded with drawn pistol as I heard a shot and those two tables are full of my men. It's in their interest that I stand before you.' Devlin took the final step to the slab floor, fifteen feet from the towering pirate.

'Your
men?' Teach took in the tables either side of him. 'I reckon some of these to be Seth Toombs's lads.'

  'Aye,' Dan Teague spoke up. 'Toombs be dead, Captain Teach.' He was almost apologetic. 'Captain Devlin be the lord now.' Dan twisted his head to Devlin and almost bowed as he spoke. 'This be Captain Teach, Devlin. Have you not heard the name Blackbeard in your life before?'

  'Devlin? That be you, then?' Teach's Bristol accent came to the fore. Unknown to Devlin, Edward Teach had joined on the account with Benjamin Hornigold late the previous year and had swiftly courted a bloody reputation that grew as fast as his hirsute jowls. A vagrant privateer from the war. Intelligent and astute. Violent and drunken. Blackbeard.

  Devlin showed no recognition and gave his own introduction. 'Aye. Captain Patrick Devlin. Captain of the brigantine
Lucy
and the frigate
Shadow.
And I'm sure it is only my ignorance that stops my arm from quivering with fear, Captain Teach.' Devlin bowed.

  Teach took a step forward; Dandon began to slip along the wall like a shadow.

  'Not knowing me is no crime. But know me as consort captain to Ben Hornigold. One who may be lord in this republic. It be a wrong man to go against me. And a short life for him.'

  Teach's eyes never wavered from Devlin's, and he paid no attention to the pointing pistol. 'I'm no threat to your men, Captain Devlin. My humour is for Dandelion here. He be nothing to you.'

  Sam Morwell broached his tongue. 'He's a doctor, Captain. He has powders and all sorts.' Sam presented this information as if he had just found the infant Jesus in his arms, but lowered his eyes as his brothers glared at him.

  'Is this true, Mister Teague?' Devlin enquired of Dan Teague, the only one of his men who had committed his right hand to the hilt of his cutlass, his eyes watchful on Teach.

  'Aye, Captain,' he sighed. 'A doctor, to be sure.' Dan could feel the evening going badly. Sam Morwell had proposed a reason to defend the man Dandon and he would stand by his brother. He only regretted the absence of Peter Sam at such a decision. 'We needs a doctor.'

  'Seems this man may have some meaning to me, Captain Teach. I may ask you to forgo your humour, sir.'

  Devlin raised his voice to the fellow creeping along the wall. 'You, sir! Dandelion! Are you in need of proper employment?'

  Dandon stopped and straightened himself. 'I prefer the sobriquet "Dandon" this year, Captain, if you please.' He tipped his hat. 'But a coin or two and a noggin of rumbustion I would welcome, sir.'

  'Then we shall talk terms, when I am properly attired.'

  Devlin returned his study to Teach. 'Now, Captain, I am afraid that I would have to take offence if you caused any harm to a member of my crew, as I would expect you to also. Would you not say?' He lowered the pistol, keeping it cocked.

  Teach could feel his very spleen engorge with blood, but he was no fool. He stood alone in a tavern full of Devlin's brethren.

  No Black Caesar behind him. No Israel Hands by his side. He had come ashore alone from the six-gun sloop he commanded, leaving all seventy souls aboard. Hornigold's orders were to wait for him if Teach's sloop arrived at Providence before him. Teach was a day ahead after their latest cruise, and fancied himself a little dallying ashore. He feared no man or devil, but to die alone and far from his brethren was against his own plan.

  The long, matted black beard rose again in amusement.

  Slowly, with an awful scraping, he put up and drove home to his belt the grey blade of his cutlass; at the same time a large clasp knife appeared in his left hand from his fustian overcoat. He stepped purposefully to the table where Dan Teague still stood, ready to draw his blade, not unnoticed by Teach.

  The dark blade of the clasp knife sighed open, clicking like a pistol. Teach's black eyes swayed across Devlin's men; they all struggled to meet his rolling stare.

  Devlin felt uneasy as he watched the mysterious actions of the tall pirate, and widened his stance for a sudden defence.

  Teach picked up the bottle that held the candle. His face glowed eerily in its yellow light for an instant; then he blew it out softly.

  As the smoke danced around his beard, he slammed the bottle down on its side, shaking awake everyone who had been mesmerised by his movements. He began to saw at the candle with the knife; moments later a quarter of it was in his hand. The blade snapped shut and disappeared within the confines of his coat.

  Carefully, Teach studied the small white stump of wax. Satisfied, he buried it beneath his coat, seemingly in a pocket close to his heart. He swelled to his full height and returned his undivided attention to Devlin.

  "Till we meet again, Captain.' And then Blackbeard swept out of the tavern in three swift silent steps, the slamming of the door behind him jarring the walls.

  With the closing of the door, Devlin's composure returned, and he joined Dan Teague at the table. The green bottle still rocked on its side, the candle naked and short.

  'What was that about, Mister Teague?' Devlin asked, carelessly dropping his long pistol to the table with a clatter and hanging his sword belt on a chair.

  Dan Teague smiled nervously at his captain as they both sat down together, reaching for mugs and crock bottles simultaneously.

  'That be an old buccaneer habit, Cap'n,' Dan spoke, lowering his voice as he continued, spying that Dandon was joining their table with a smile to the bottles of rum.

  'In what manner, Mister Teague?' Devlin asked, gulping a draught of rum, trying to drown the drama of Teach's presence away with every swallow.

  'Well, Cap'n, by cutting the candle he's taking time away from you. Keeping it for himself, like. It's the mark of your days and he keeps it in his pocket.'

  'For what?'

  Dan seemed incredulous at his captain's ignorance. 'For when he meets you again, of course!' Dan continued with a belch, 'He'll aim to kill you. Then, when you're dead, he'll light the candle, removing the last of your life from this world. The last days of your life belong to him now, Cap'n… If you believe such things, that is.'