Born Under the Black Flag: The Life and Times of Captain Thomas St. Claire (A 7th Sea Novel Book 2) by John Wick

Author:John Wick [Wick, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: John Wick Presents
Published: 2018-02-14T23:00:00+00:00

1668AV

(Now)

They left the fort behind, heading west toward the island. Some of the sailors chose to stay, and the ship recruited two soldiers, adding to the ship’s marines: an Avalon called Gruffudd and a Vesten named Stavrosdattr.

Madog Gruffudd stood shorter than most of the other sailors. His black hair was short and his blue eyes were bright. The sailors teased him with the nickname “Mad Dog Griffin,” but they soon discovered the name was more fitting than they had first thought. After a tavern fight where Gruffudd laid waste to fifteen drunk Vodacce, St. Claire had to bail him out with the local constable. They walked out of the jail house, Gruffudd shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Captain,” he said.

“The bail is coming out of your pay,” St. Claire said.

Gruffudd shook his head. “Yes, sir. That’s all right. I deserve it.”

St. Claire looked at him. “What, then?”

“There were twenty,” he said. “I only got fifteen before the constable arrived. I should have been quicker. If I got all twenty, you wouldn’t be paying for my bail.” He shook his head. “Bad luck.”

Being a bar fighter was a quality St. Claire didn’t mind. But Mad Dog’s adherence to superstitions drove St. Claire mad. Every time anything went wrong, Gruffudd blamed “luck” or “fate.” He always threw salt over his shoulder, always kept a penny in his left shoe and always avoided black cats. When he got on board, surrounded by sailors, he found a new cornucopia of superstitions to adopt.

Women on board was bad luck. Whistling was bad luck. Certain tattoos could keep bad fortune from finding you. Touching your collar was bad luck. The sun, the moon, the stars. All bad luck.

Of course, this trading of superstitions wasn’t just one way. Gruffudd taught the sailors a horde of behaviors, things and dates to avoid. St. Claire would have gotten rid of him, but he wasn’t just a marine, he was one of the best damn marines on the ship. He could work as hard as ten men and make ten men fight as hard as twenty. He could fight. God’s damn beard, could he fight.

The other marine was Anne Stavrosdattr. Tallest woman on the ship, a long blonde braid down her back. She carried a sword as big as she was and two axes for fighting and throwing. When O’Sullivan tried to tease her about the axes, she tossed one right over his head, landing exactly where she aimed it, stuck in the mainmast less than a finger from his skull. Nobody ever teased Stavrosdattr about her axes again. They started calling her Valkyrie Anne. She didn’t object.

Two weeks from the island, someone lost control of a winch and it nearly took off Gruffudd’s head. He ducked, got a gash on his forehead and lost his cap. It fell overboard, floating on the waves. He yelled for a hook to bring it back, but a Vodacce named Merlo grabbed his arm.

“You don’t take from the sea what belongs to the sea,” Merlo said.

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