Betrayal in Tortuga

Chapter 4

 The market of Tortuga didn't look too grand from the deck of a ship, looking down and out. But being among its chaotic energy on ground level was an entirely different experience. There was potential for accidents everywhere. Huge shipyards, rickety stalls, and crowded paths came together in a way that made the market look full of diverse activity and experiences but also depraved, with every possibility of shady dealing shamelessly displayed. It was like a rotting corpse covered with hundreds of squirming maggots, simultaneously dead and full of life.

Daumont felt right at home. He moved through the crowd looking in every way like he knew where he was and what he was doing, never stepping aside when he found himself in the path of another person, but never colliding. He walked an inefficient path to Mr. Caïn's stall, stopping to smell spices and touch textiles when the desire arose. Despite the detours, he soon stood at the fabric entrance to Mr. Caïn's supplies dealership. His tent was toward the east of Tortuga, and though it was close enough to hear the clang of metal from the shipyards, in general his corner of the market was relatively quiet compared to the rest. Mr. Caïn didn't need to heckle and sell himself to marketgoers; his services came by invitation only. Daumont pulled back an artfully woven hanging rug the same shade of purple as his breeches and stepped inside.

"Barthelemi! I was beginning to think you'd been mugged on the way here." Mr. Caïn was sitting on the floor of his tent, papers stacked dutifully in front of him. Daumont scrunched his nose at the use of his first name but complied when Mr. Caïn gestured for him to have a seat.

"What have you got for me?" Mr. Caïn wasted no time in pleasantries. He already had a paper sheet spread over a wood board, quill in hand, ready to record their negotiations.

"We took a galleon in the west, headed toward the gulf. Their inventory was mostly supplies for Spanish colonies, but they also were carrying some coffee for trade."

"Very good." Mr. Caïn nodded. "I'll have to do an appraisal, but it'll probably be enough for half your supplies for your next trip. What else?"

Daumont shifted uncomfortably. "There was also some rum and weapons..."

Mr. Caïn set down his quill. "That wasn't the only ship you found, right?" Mr. Caïn's tone suggested that Daumont's value as a supplier was decreasing with every second. Daumont avoided Mr. Caïn's eyes. Outside the tent, the usual quiet of Mr. Caïn's world was broken by a sudden commotion.

"Captain-" Mr. Caïn started, but Daumont was already peering outside, eager for a distraction. He could just barely see la Miséricorde in the distance, and surrounding it Daumont saw something that made his blood boil. He'd recognize Spanish armor anywhere. He felt a dull pressure on his back, Mr. Caïn pushing him out of his tent.

"If you give me up I swear I'll kill you." Mr. Caïn jerked the violet rug between them. Daumont's eyes widened and his pupils constricted as he realized what had happened. There were only Spaniards around his own ship. Someone had given him up.