Muddied Waters - Coda

Chapter Twelve - Hair of the Dog

Teague navigated out of the crowded tavern to a seated and uncomfortable-looking Teo Quintana, a tankard in each fist. He'd been to Jamaica before and had enjoyed the island immensely. Much had changed since then, but people imbibing in large numbers during the early afternoon seemed a permanent staple.

"Rest easy, mate," he handed the quartermaster one mug while drinking his, halfway through it before he sat down. "You've no need to worry about the people here. As long as you're spending coin instead of causing trouble, nobody's paying attention."

The ex-pirate inhaled the rest of his drink and politely waited for Quintana to get close to finishing his before getting up for more. Teague couldn't believe his luck: nearly a week earlier, Hercules had been due to land in Santo Domingo to re-supply their food and freshwater stocks, but as the ship neared the island the crew came upon a wall of darkness spanning the horizon. Teague was well acquainted with such storms, and it seemed the leadership was, too. The word huracan spread through the crew like a wildfire. Captain and crew alike panicked and the ship was steered west as they skirted the southern coast, looking for signs of the storm edging closer. Though the wind had picked up, it had remained north as they hurried away from the Spanish-held territory of Hispaniola and crossed onto French-held shores. Exhausted and worrisomely depleted of their drinking water, a decision had to be made. Weather-wise, it was too dangerous to double-back and the French held no love for Spanish vessels, so landing in Saint Domingue was out of the question. With Kingston being the next nearest port, Teague had suggested to strike their colors and try their luck there. He and some of the crew were Englishmen, after all, and Teague had gained enough of Quintana's trust that the quartermaster passed the idea along to Cardoso.

"Easy," Teague repeated, feeling a sweet numbness begin to creep into his consciousness. He eyed the perspiring tankard laid in front of Quintana. "Not thirsty?"

"We are supposed to be getting supplies."

"We will."

"Where do we get them? I came here because I thought you were inquiring about that inside," Quintana said while he folded his arms and stared angrily at Teague. "We did not come here to get drunk. Everyone is waiting for us in the harbor."

"Sorry mate," the ex-pirate replied sheepishly, "thought I'd have time to wet my whistle a little."

"Get up. We're going. Take me to the nearest harbor master now."

"Wait just a minu-"

Quintana got up and slammed his hands on the table. "Up!"

Inquisitive heads turned to the pair and Teague met their gazes with a disarming smile. "Sit down," he warned quietly as interest waned in their spat, "please, mate."

The quartermaster reluctantly took his seat. "Finish your drink, then we go."

"Already have. You finish yours."

"Here," Quintana tried handing him his tankard.

"Nope. You finish it. Fucking hell, Teo. Just have a drink. I'm ordering another."

"You think you are really clever, don't you," Quintana accused as Teague returned with a refill. "Just wait until we return to the ship. I never should have let you talk us into this."

"Talk you into what? To not let us die of thirst on the open water? We needed supplies and this was the nearest safe port."

"Safe for whom? And what do you think your crew members are doing right now? They sit thirsty, while you get drunk. Fucking pendejo."

"We just got here, mate. There's enough water on the ship to last until at least tomorrow. Just relax for one hour."

"You're thinking you can glean some information from me, aren't you?"