Home From The Sea by Keegan Mel

Author:Keegan, Mel [Keegan, Mel]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: DreamCraft
Published: 2013-06-26T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

A boat was sliding in from the sea. It looked like a whaler’s longboat, Jim thought, and the two men at the oars were skilled. The sea was calmer than it had been in days, and the run of the tide did not seem to trouble them much as they brought the craft in. It grounded out when its keel hit the path, and one of them hopped over the side. His boots were rolled right up to the thighs to keep out the water as he forced his way through, cutting the shortest line for the tavern door. Wisely, Mrs. Clitheroe beat a swift retreat. Jim heard the squeal of a hinge as the kitchen door closed halfway over.

“Nathaniel Burke,” Toby said very softly. “He always fancied himself the skipper of our company. Don’t misjudge the other bastard, Jim, but of the two Burke is the dangerous one, because he’s intelligent.”

“And the other?” Jim asked in the same undertone.

“Joseph Pledge. Joe to his friends and enemies alike. Keep a wide berth between the two of you … he likes to hurt. To Joe pain is hilariously funny, so long as it’s someone else’s agony.” He whistled softly to Bess. “Come here, girl. Stay close, now.” He gave Jim a sidelong glance. “He’ll hurt any of us, if he can, and the dogs are fair game.”

“Boxer – here, lad.” Jim slapped his thigh to bring the ratter to him, and watched Pledge disentangle himself from the oars and step over into the cold swirl of the water.

Of the pair, Nathaniel Burke was also the more physically imposing. He was a tall man and big through the shoulders, with white scars on his face, neck and hands, visible from a good distance away. His expression seemed to be set in a permanent grimace, as if he had worn the look for so long, it has set in place. He was not a young man, Jim saw; ten years older than Toby at least, and he wore his years with less grace than Toby. In his day he must have been passable handsome, but now the stubble clinging to his cheeks was white, the bags under his eyes were the size of a seaman’s chest and his nose had been broken, set off-center, so it angled toward his right cheek. His clothes were well worn but just as well repaired; his tricorn was black, set at a rakish angle at odds with the slope of his nose.

With their weight out of it the boat floated off once more, and Burke and Pledge dragged it up to the gravel and pebbles marking the edge of The Raven’s old foundations. If the tavern had not been built on the leveled ruins of a previous building, it would have been flooded already, and Jim knew how lucky they were. Biding his time, keeping silent, he studied the strangers.

Joe Pledge was short, as rotund as he was muscular, oily, with yellow teeth which were bared in a grimace of effort as the keel scraped up onto the pebbles and refused to be moved any further.

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