Bloody Mary

Chapter Sixteen~Both Sides Now

The tavern wench across the bar from Carlisle had been watching him for the past half hour of his stay. A bottle of Jamaican Rum sat half empty before him. He didn’t bother wasting a glass, and had instead taken the entire bottle. His eyes flicked once to the tavern wench, trailing his eyes along the curves of her upper body, then moving a bit lower. He swallowed, then turned back to his drink. He hadn’t the time for such distractions, nor the interest. There were beautiful women, but he had yet to find one that wasn’t a whore. Of course, that type of woman was in short supply as of late.

No, he couldn’t let his mind wander to that of the female figure, nor the pleasantries it may bring. Not when he had a sneaky suspicion of a mission gone awry, as if something hadn’t gone as planned. A few weeks had passed since his crew’s supposed return. By now they should be at the docks with his mates, celebrating the new additions to their crew as well as the long road of treasure ahead of them.

That would be the case if his ship and crew had actually returned. They had been missing for the pass few months, not a word from any of the crew, nor any other pirates of whether or not they had been seen. What was he to do? Obviously he was to suspect that Percy, the young lad, was indeed a spy for the Royal Navy and had somewhere managed to get his ship captured by his allies. In which case it would be his own fault. If the crew and ship had been seized by enemy forces, then it was his doing. And, at the moment, there was nothing he could do about it.

He should have thought on it more. He should have realized that sooner, before he set his entire crew under the command and within the grasp of a Navy spy. Now all of those lives were on his shoulders, weighing him down. Edward, Phillip, Andrew, Connor- Every body was gone because of him. Childhood friends, trusted allies… Betrayed by his very hand. He deserved everything worse than death. No man ever-

The door to the tavern suddenly eased open, followed by a familiar ruckus of pirates, merry in every way possible. Carlisle’s crew should be acting as such…

“Whisky all around, wench.” The crew’s captain ordered. Carlisle’s eyes lifted ever so slightly to look at the triumphant looking man, flirtatiously eyeing the voluptuous woman. Her lip turned up in a sly smirk before she disappeared behind the counter, loading it with mugs and retrieving the bottles.

“Coming right up.” She didn’t spare him a wink, and returned his flirtatious audacity. “What’s the occasion?”

“A plan gone horribly wrong, but returning with our lives!”

Carlisle found himself snorting in response to this. “That’s an odd reason, mate. Any plan gone wrong is a failure, any failure isn’t worth celebrating.”

“To you,” the man grasped his mug as his drink was delivered. Others filled with drink began to slide across the table to his eccentric crew. “But to me every failure is worth celebrating, for there is always something to be learned.”

“Then bottoms up.” Carlisle returned, grasping his bottle in a mock toast gesture, “because I’ve made a big one.”

"Oh, aye?" The captain asked with a tilt of his brow over his drink. "And what would that be?"

"Well, I don't suppose it concerns you, but I believe I've left my crew in the hands of a Navy spy."

"Huh," the man said with a thoughtful look into the bottle. He found himself pondering whether to retrieve a new bottle soon, for this one was hastily emptying. "I suppose that is a problem. Tell me, oh young sailor, what does this vessel of yours look like?"

"It's easy to miss. Just a Schooner with white sails and a crew of only about a dozen men. It comes from the docks of Tortuga, should that provide anything to your imagination."