Chapter Text
James
“Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”
James heard it and rolled over. He felt a warm, naked arm and pressed closer into Thomas at his side.
“Pieces of eight!”
Suddenly, the wind was knocked from James as something came down, punching him in the gut, hitting a testicle. He rolled and gasped.
“Gemma,” barked Thomas.
“He's here! He's here, Father! He's here, Papa!”
James opened one eye. He heard the bird again. He bit back a curse.
Thomas elbowed him. “It's your brother-in-law's parrot,” he says.
James grumbled, wrapped his arm around Gemma, and threw the boy down on the bed. “Arr, the next time you jump on me, I’m going to tickle you until you surrender!” James gave one tickle for demonstration of his prowess in this field. Then he stopped to look at Thomas, his mind finally hearing. “He's not my brother-in-law.”
“He is. He's your sister's husband. That makes him your brother-in-law.”
“I’m not related--”
“He's here,” Gemma interrupted them both by shaking James's arm violently.
“Go on. Get out of here,” said James. “Go find him and tell him to come himself and stop sending his bird. Next time, I’ll cook her.”
Gemma hopped down and ran outside, all excitement.
James curled his head forward onto the bed. He groaned and looked up to meet crystal blue eyes staring back at him. Thomas was wearing nothing but his loose pants. Gemma was out on the beach somewhere with Silver. That could give them time--
“He's early”, said Thomas.
Fuck, Thomas was right. “Four weeks early can't be a good thing,” said James. Years ago now, John Silver had taken up his role as something of a prince to Madi's princess. More often than not, the Iphicles ran various missions for Madi, usually involving trade and espionage. Occasionally, however, they had other errands to run-- errands for which James was needed. Even in the year that Silver had been a pirate captain, John Silver had never taken a prize. He’d spent that year chasing Madi, Tom Morgan, Jack Rackham, and James Flint around the West Indies like a lost pup. He was generally much happier when following Madi around. The problem was, his crew was not.
James had been helping to keep them in line with regular trips, some of which were absolutely useless, but which at least gave them the opportunity to hunt and win their earnings. They took prizes that were Spanish or Dutch. James captained them and sailed not under his own flag, but under a new flag designed by none other than Mister Williamson, who went these days by the nom de guerre of Bartholomew Roberts. If Flint were to use his own flag, it would draw the British like blood drew sharks. And yet, Williamson was no captain.
Enter Flint. Flint didn’t want to do it, not really, but the Iphicles was too important an asset to let flounder. He tried to sail no more than thrice a year. Sometimes, they seized slave ships. They couldn’t make it obvious, though, that they were hunting slavers; it pointed too conveniently to the Maroons. But when they could, the slaves were brought back aboard the Iphicles and distributed amongst the islands of the Maroons so that no one island had to take in the bulk of refugees. James's own island, Gordo Cay, was working hard to expand their ability to take in refugees by planting more crops.
When James was not at sea, he gave sailing lessons using small fishing vessels. Eventually, they would have enough free and pardoned men to retire the Iphicles from the hunt, and make it a regular Maroon vessel like the Liberty. Then James would turn it all over to Madi and pray he would have to sail no more.
On land, James gave musket and pistol lessons. He helped make furniture with Brian and a newcomer named Jaara. But James knew that his real value to the Maroons was diminishing as time went on. He lauded this, because even while he was needed less, Thomas was called upon more. Thomas spent a great deal of time these days writing letters. When Madi was around, he had long meetings with her. Several times, he sailed to the Queen's island to meet with the Queen and give her some opinions on particulars. This was the right way of things. James had always hoped that Thomas was the one who would truly get involved here, who would be able to do great things for the Maroons. Thomas was the mind; James was the muscle only.
Then there was Gemma. He was enjoying his tenth year of life. Once, when Gemma was a needy toddling thing, the years had moved slowly. Now, they seemed to rush by. Gemma was, rather unfortunately, obsessed with piracy in general and with Long John Silver in particular. He often bragged-- to James-- about knowing a “real pirate captain”. James and Thomas would trade secret smiles and nods; as far as Gemma knew, James spent his time at sea fishing. This was not a secret that they would be able to keep forever, but if they could keep it until the Iphicles had enough free and pardoned crew members--
The door burst open again, and James’s red-headed namesake came slinking back in, even as James pulled on trousers.
“He’s not here,” Gemma groused.
“He’s still on his ship?” James asked.
“No. There is no ship. He’s not here. It’s just The Captain.” ‘Captain Flint’ was Silver’s name for his annoying parrot, though around James most people called her ‘The Captain’; doing otherwise earned them a steely glare they would rather avoid.
James looked at Thomas. Thomas shrugged, but must have seen alarm in James’s eyes. “What is it?”
“An emergency plan,” James whispered.
“An emergency? How are you to help? You and what ship?”
“There will be a message,” James said. To Gemma, he said, “Run and find that Captain and see if she doesn’t have something tied to a leg.”
“Yessir,” said Gemma, and he was off again.
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “I believe he just called you sir.”
James scoffed. “I wish he would dream of being a writer or a scholar.”
Thomas was pulling on a shirt, James putting on his shoes, when Gemma came back with a roll of paper. The wax seal on it was already broken.
“Gemma Barlow Hawkins, tell me you didn’t break this seal.”
Gemma had enough fire in his belly to look defiant. “So what if I did?”
“Better you than someone else,” James grumbled. “Truly, was this sealed when you got it?”
“Yup. I mean, yessir.”
James looked over to Thomas, whose eyebrows were climbing again. James rolled his eyes and read the letter:
Rackham detained on charges. He says you made a deal to come for Anne. Port Royal, 15 Nov. Liberty to you. - JS
He passed it wordlessly over to Thomas. “Oh my God,” whispered Thomas. “This was sent two days ago. Do you think you could get there in time to save him?”
James felt his jaw tense. Gemma was in the room watching them. What could he say? It could as easily be himself instead of Jack Rackham. It could be Madi or Silver, too. Governor Lawes was as keen on Maroons as he was on pirates. But no, it would be two days to Jamaica if James left within the hour, and this had been sent two days ago. For someone who took a pardon and returned to piracy? No, he did not think he could save Jack Rackham. Even Anne Bonny was as good as dead already unless she had the good sense to plead her belly. The fact that this letter was coming to James at all implied that she had done exactly that.
James simply shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” said Thomas.
“We aren’t-- weren’t close.”
“I liked him, the few times I met him.”
A pompous overdressed smooth-talker with a good taste in literature? You would. James didn’t say it, because it was unkind, and-- and because Jack Rackham had done his best to help James, not even once or twice but at least three separate times. Without any recompense but this-- that he would have this favor to keep in his pocket should it be needed. Well, now it was.
James stood. “Gemma, please tell Inna to come here at once. It’s an emergency.”
“Okay.” Gemma had picked up on the mood. He was no longer smiling or skipping, nor playing pirate, as he left the room.
James took the moment when Gemma was gone to lift the mattress and grab one of the three bags stowed there. Thomas’s and Gemma’s bags would hopefully never be needed-- they were for escape, should one suddenly become necessary. James’s own bag contained weapons, powder, knives, two swords, clothing, rope, flint and steel, his piratical clothing, and various foodstuffs. He kept it well stocked for emergencies. It seemed he had stumbled into just such a situation. He met Thomas’s blank gaze, and a stiff worry settled between James’s shoulder blades.
*****
Gemma
Gemma pressed his ear against the shuttered window of the cottage.
“We sail as soon as the Liberty is sighted, which should be before evening. Bring Amelia, Joseph, and Chata. We’ll leave Diallo and Elliot with their new recruits as defense.”
“What’s the deal?,” Inna asked. He was the only soldier that was entirely informal with Gemma’s father. Gemma knew his father was something of an ‘admiral’ for the island’s militia. He wasn’t sure what the rank meant, as no one else held it, but it clearly was not as high as a captain. Silver had said that to be a pirate captain is the highest rank in the entire world, because you are beholden to no one.
Gemma pressed closer to hear his father talk:
“It’s a rescue mission in the heart of Port Royal. You never met Captain Jack Rackham--”
“He needs rescuing, is that it?”
“No, his… his woman. He’s most likely been hanged for a pirate.”
Gemma knew Jack Rackham. A pirate captain! He had not known Rackham was a pirate captain. He had known that Rackham was very bad with a trumpet. If pirate captains were beholden to no one, how could he be hanged for it? Who could have the authority? And why was his father going to rescue the captain’s woman?
His father was talking again:
“This mission doesn’t directly impact the Maroons, and you’ve the right to refuse.”
“Fuck that! He helped us before, lots of times, isn’t that right?”
He heard his father make a noise.
“Then ‘course I’ll help save his woman. I’ll be on the beach by high tide with Joseph, Chata, and Amelia.”
“One last thing,” Father sighed. “Bring the bird.”
*****
James
James was still writing a few letters-- in the unfortunate case that their mission was unsuccessful and he was killed-- when a knock sounded on the door.
He opened it to admit Amelia. She was a grown woman, though she would never be tall. She was muscular and pretty, with her hair in shoulder-length braids. Her full lips didn’t quite meet in the middle, giving her a constantly just-kissed look.
“Admiral,” she said. “I cannot come with you on this mission.”
“Inna conveyed that you have the right to refuse--”
“I’m not refusing. I’m-- I’m with child.”
He stood staring at her for a moment. He said, “You can refuse for any reason, that included. You do not owe me an--.”
“I am not refusing. It’s just that-- you will not want me to come, now.”
James felt himself bark a laugh. “You and I both know I was fighting the British much farther along than you are. I’d not stop you for any reason, unless you were going to be a liability to me.”
“Does this not make me a liability?”
He blinked at her. “Not to me.”
She nodded. “Then I am in.”