Colard Dysart

After the ship had been put on course for the colonies, Colard took a quick break. Standing at the larboard rail, he gazed out over the vast blueness of the Caribbean, and thought of the strange turns his life had taken since being captured by the Spanish five years ago. He was very glad to be out of Havana, but wasn't sure he liked being on this ship any better. Oh, sure, they were all fine lads, and Ransom was no tyrant of a captain, but Colard longed for peace and quiet in his old age, and doubted he was going to find it crewing on the Rakehell. Young Jimmy Cox came to stand next to him. "Makes ye feel a bit small, don't it?" he said, gesturing to the open ocean. "Aye, it does at that." "What do ye think is going to happen to us, once we make the colonies? I don't mind sayin' it makes me uneasy. They could just a soon arrest us all and hang us, as welcome us with open arms." He turned and grinned at the young man. "Weel, if it's any consolation tae ye, I doot the ship will make it that far." Jimmy snorted. "You old Scottish devil." Colard let his gaze return to the horizon. "Ah, better the deevil ye ken, than the one ye don't."

Colard was worried. Ever since the strange, frightening disappearance of the Relentless, the captain of the Rakehell had changed. All the fire and fight he so loved about Ransom had gone out. She'd stood at the rail, staring out at the place where the other ship should have been, then had turned, gone to her cabin and not come out. That had been three days ago. He'd checked on her once, knocking quietly on the door, and, when there was no answer, cautiously opened it and peered in. She'd been sitting at her small desk, toying with what looked to be an emerald the size of a walnut. When she looked up at him, he was embarrassed to see that her eyes were red and swollen, as if she'd been weeping. With only a nod, he'd closed the door and returned to the deck. Jimmy Cox interrupted his thoughts, but apparently his mirrored Colard's own. "Do ye think the Relentless is comin' back?" "No, I don't," a voice behind them rasped. Both men turned to see Ransom standing in front of the hatch that led below decks. Her face was set in a grim expression, her eyes, Colard saw, still bloodshot and swollen. "We're leaving the Caribbean," she said. Colard cleared his throat. "Where to, then?" "The colonies. Charles Town. I have some connections there." Jimmy said, "The Rakehell needs repairs, Ma'am, and we never got any of that gold Captain Tar told us about. How we goin' to pay for stuff?" Her expression hardened. "I have something we can sell that will more than pay for repairs to the ship, and whatever supplies we need." She turned to Colard. "Tell Africa to get the ship under sail. Now." Colard knuckled his forehead and gladly turned away from her. Jimmy came with him. Neither felt comfortable around Ransom, for it was obvious that whatever door she had left open in her heart that accepted, loved, and let life in, had been slammed shut and locked. Jimmy glanced back at her once, then whispered to Colard, "It's gonna be a long voyage to Charles Town." "That it is, Lad, that it is."

When the strange fate of the Relentless became obvious, all activity on the Rakehell came to a halt. Her crewe stood in stunned silence. Colard felt the sparse hairs on the back of his neck rise up, and was at a loss to understand what had happened. Standing at the rail next to him, Ransom kept staring at the empty spot of ocean where Captain Tar's ship had been. Africa, the big blackamoor, came to stand behind her, and said, "Don known where Dat Man has gone, but good riddance to him." To Colard's amazement, Ransom spun around and stuck the big man a hard blow to the face, shouting, "Shut up! Not another damned word, or I'll gut you where you stand and throw your bloody carcass to the sharks. Understand!" Colard prepared to put himself between the captain and the black man, but all Africa did was glare at her, then give a curt nod. "Good. Now, get away from me," she snarled, and turned her back on him. Colard remained standing at the rail next to her, then quietly asked, "What do we do now, Ma'am?" She looked at him, and to his acute embarrassment he saw that she was silently crying, the tears running down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. Her voice was devoid of emotion when she answered, "I have no idea." He knuckled his forehead and walked away, giving her some privacy. A few minutes later he looked back at her, a lonely figure standing at the rail, as the fog slowly engulfed the Rakehell in a shroud of white.

Colard, like most of the other crew members of the Rakehell, had been cooling his heels waiting for the Relentless to finish her business and pull up anchor. Scratching his balding pate, he happened to glance over at the retreating sloop. Suddenly on full alert, he quickly jogged down to the captain's cabin, and banged fiercely on the door. "What?" Came the answer from within. "Beggin' yer pardon, Ma'am, but I think yea need tae come up on deck right quick." The cabin door was flung open, and Ransom glared at him. "What now?" "Deevilment, I'd say. Young Nate's sloop looks tae be in trouble, and ol' MacTavish is movin' in for the kill." "Bloody hell!" She pushed past him and ran up on deck, grabbing a brass spyglass as she went. Colard followed. Others of the crew were pointing in the direction of the sloop, where the Pride of Flodden was coming astern of her, her guns rolled out. "That bloody Scott bastard!" Ransom railed, her eye glued to the glass. "We'll never get the anchor up in time tae help them." Colard said. "Doesn't matter," she replied. "For some reason, Nate and his crew appear to be abandoning ship." "That might create a wee problem." Colard sighed. "If MacTavish gets hold of them, he'll barter them for information, supplies, and whatever else he can strip from these two vessels." She turned her blue-ice gaze on him. "He can try! In the meantime, let's hope Nate and Cat are smart enough to head for that fog bank. And let's also hope that we find them afterward, before the Flodden does, or before they become lost at sea." As the captain turned to her first mate and ordered the anchor raised, Colard turned to young Jimmy Cox. "Weel, I guess we're done cooling our heels for the time bein'. Best get to business."

Colard watched the sloop and its small crew pull away from the Rakehell. He wondered if Nate was biting off more than he could chew, with a boatload of Spaniards to deal with. He turned to the captain. "Ye ken young Nate will be all right?" She glanced over at the sloop. "Oh, I think he'll be fine. He's a smart lad, and he did save those Spaniard's lives. That should count for something." "Did ye really give an order tae shoot Nate if he came back?" The look she turned on him was icy. "Nate disobeyed an order not to leave the ship and go chasing after Red Cat. That he found her at all I will put down to blind luck. I could hardly spare a boat with my hull compromised. I only relented because I figured he sneak off with one anyway. Then he disobeyed me again by not taking Roberts with him. One defiance of my orders is bad enough. Do it twice, and I will give the order to have you shot." Colard thought that pretty harsh, but could understand why. A captain's position was tenuous at best. "So, why dinna ye shoot him? Or let Roberts do the job for ye?" "If he'd come back without the Cat, I might have." Colard grinned. "Ye like the laddie, don't ye?" She grinned back. "Got rot me, yes, I do. But I'll keel haul you if you ever tell him." "Oh, I'll stay mum. I've nae wish tae be dragged under the keel o' this fine vessel." He knuckled his forehead and left her standing at the rail, waiting for the captain of the Relentless to acknowledge her request for a parley.

As soon as Colard had answered the captain, Jimmy spoke up, wagging his pistol in the Spaniard's direction. "Do they seem a bit..I dunno, tricksy to you?" Colard regarded the prisoners. "Nae more than usual, fer Spaniards. If there's one thing I did learn during mae days in Havana, is that ye should never trust a Spaniard, especially if ye be English or Scott!" Jimmy scratched his thatch of sun-bleached brown hair. "Then, what's the captain gonna do with um?" Glancing at the captain, who had just hailed the Relentless, Colard replied with a grin, "I would never try tae ken what that woman has on her mind, but I've nae worry that she'll think o' somethin'." Jimmy grinned back. "That's the truth, and I doubt it'll be something those poor devils will like." As Nate and Red Cat came up on deck, Colard replied, "And I doubt weel hae tae wait too long tae find out."

Colard, with Jimmy and Tunny, stood at the rail, their pistols pointed at the Spaniards, who looked back at them with defiance well, except for one pudgy-looking hombre who looked a bit worried. "Ye think they'll try and escape?" Jimmy asked. "Not if they've half a brain amongst them," Tunny replied. "Pitiful looking lot, if ye ask me. Wonder how young Nate managed to outwit them? There's a good story, I'm thinkin'." Moving closer to the man who seemed to be their leader, Colard spoke to him in the Spanish he'd picked up while trapped in Havana for three years, although it was heavily accented in Scot. "Excuse me, mate, but ye've nae need tae worry. Just keep yer manos where we can see them. La Capitana sez you'll be treated fair and square, so long as ye mind yer manners." Then, with a grin, he began to hum, "Farewell and adieu you fine Spanish ladies, farewell and adieu you ladies of Spain..."

Colard, a wide grin on his grizzled face, gently cuffed the lad on the shoulder. "Thought ye gone from us, lad. Ye had nae pulse, nae breath, but I guess that Father o' yours doesna want a crazy Irishman causin' trouble in His house just yet. Canna say as I blame him." He pointed to the ball stuck in the log book. "I'd take yon ball and make a good luck charm out o' it. Be easier than wearin' the book about your neck."

Colard watched the sloop come along side, happy to see that young Nate and his companion seemed no worse for their adventure. The one called Red Cat had apparently survived her ordeal with little hurt to her person, as she looked hale and hearty. Colard could not say the same for the Spaniards, who glared up at the crewe of the Rakehell, and mumbled among themselves. Peering at them closer, Colard studied each face, trying to decided if he'd ever seen any of them before. But although he'd spent many years trapped in Havana, none of the Spaniards on board the sloop looked familiar. As young Nate climbed on board, Colard gave him a slap on the back. "Welcome back, son. I see ye saved yon missy. But, if ye could hae left yon Spaniards on that wee spit o sand, everyone would hae been a bit happier."

Colard watched MacTavish and the Pride of Flodden sail away, heading West. "Weel, that's a wee bit of a surprise," he said to the captain, who was standing beside him. "Why do you say that? He was outgunned," she replied. "MacTavish isna one for running from a fight. Ye best hope we don't come across his ship again. He isna the forgiving type, and we've caused him tae lose face in front of his crewe." Ransom let her gaze linger on the retreating ship. "If he's in the same business we are, then we're bound to run into him again eventually. There aren't that many safe ports for the likes of us." "And, just what are we? Ye've never really explained." Colard had a good idea of what business the Rakehell was usually about, but wanted to hear it from the captain. She turned to face him, a benevolent smile curling her lips. "Us? Why, we're just traders, Mr. Dysart." He looked into those steely-blue eyes, nodded, and replied, "That's what I thought."

Colard watched with horror as the Spanish vessel exploded into a ball of smoke and falling timber. Everyone on the Rakehell froze, concentrating on what would happen to the Scottish brig, who had been almost close enough to board the smaller boat. Tunny, still up on the fighting top, yelled down, "The brig don't look damaged much. She's got her rigging tangled with debris is all." With no glass, Colard couldn't tell, as smoke lay thick around both ships. As he squinted his eyes in an attempt to see better, the captain came to stand next to him. "So," she said, "What do you think your Scottish friend will do now? Turn on us, perhaps?" "Can't rightly say, ma'am. But what I do ken, is that MacTavish won't rest until he's killed every last Spaniard that was on that ship. He dinna take kindly tae someone trying tae blow him up." "Well, good." "Ma'am? She smiled. "Let him chase the Spaniards all he likes. Let him chase them all the way to China. It will keep him out of our hair." "Quite frankly, ma'am, I dinna think he'll hae tae chase them too far. They're probably all dead. And if they are, then he's going tae come back here, wantin' tae see why we're all loitering around a bunch of barren sand dunes. Powerful curious, is ol' MacTavish." She continued to smile. "Well, curiosity killed the cat. It may do the same to a nosy Scott." She left him at the rail, but Colard had no doubt that Mactavish would want to know why a schooner, a brig, and a sloop were all congregating in such a remote spot in the ocean. And why their crews were willing to risk sharks to get what lay on the sea bottom below them. Then the Scottish guns began to fire.

Colard was much relieved when it became clear that the Pride of Flodden was not going to fire on them. She was heading with unerring purpose toward the Spanish sloop, which oddly enough, appeared to be oblivious of her approach. Although Colard had not been in MacTavish's company in over six years, he knew the old Scott was a wily devil, and also a tad fickle. If he couldn't gain much from the Spanish ship, there was no guarantee he wouldn't turn on them. As the big brig sailed past them she fired her first guns, sending up a wall of water just in front of the anchored sloop. "Weel, MacTavish," Colard muttered, "let's hope ye take yon Spaniard and go. For I've nae desire tae renew our aquaintance." He also had no desire to have the guns of the Pride of Flodden pointed at the Rakehell.

Having finished working on the hull, Colard came up on deck. Standing at the rail next to Tunny, Colard pointed to the Relentless, and said, "Is that nae the strangest thing ye've seen in this world?" Tunny nodded. "It's been a right strange voyage all round, this time out, that's for certain." "What are they doing?" "Seems Captain Tar is taking a trip below to check things out. Better him than me, I say, as there's more than one shark cruising the waters looking for a quick meal. Not too respectful as to what rank that meal may be, either." The thought of purposely going into shark infested waters made Colard shudder. "Hope what he finds down there is worth the trouble."

Holding the smoldering slow match in his left hand, Colard stood by the forward larboard gun and watched the strange antics of the galleon. Instead of firing on them, the ship had changed course and tacked away from them. It made no sense at all. Standing on the other side of the gun, the wet swap at the ready, Jimmy Cox also watched the Spanish ship turn away. "Now, why you think they did that? Not like Spaniards to turn tail and run. What do you think they're up to?" Colard shook his head. "I nae can ken the reasoning o' the Spanish, but it do seem awful queer, especially when they have us out-gunned." About that time, a figure went tumbling over the side of the galleon into the water. "Lookit that." Jimmy pointed. Colard looked over at the captain, who was watching the whole strange affair through the glass. "Ma'am, do we lower a boat and pluck that poor soul from the sea?" The look she turned on him froze the marrow of his bones. "No, Mr. Dysart," she said, "We do not."

At the sound of Tunny's shout, Colard turned to look at the western horizon. From the deck of the Relentless, he could see nothing but a faint blur of white sail, but even so, a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. On board the Rakehell more shouting was heard, this time from the deep voice of her quartermaster, "What flag dey fly?" Tunny peered again, then called down, "Can't see any. Peers ta be a sloop though, not a galleon." At Colard's side, Jimmy nervously asked , "You think them bloody Spaniards founds us?" "Canna say, Lad, but let's hope the captain's confab be over soon, beings as how any uninvited guest in these waters probably means trouble, and I'd feel a damned site better in mae bones if I was on board the Rakehell, where I hae friends about me, rather than this lot with their black looks." He gestured to the Relentless crew. Before Colard could stop him, Jimmy strided to the hatchway and yelled, "Ma'am, you'd better come quick. There's a sloop sailin' up on us."

Colard shoved his pistol back into his belt, but eyed the crew of the Relentless with caution. Things were getting a bit too hot for his liking. He'd seen the hunt for treasure turn crews on each other like rabid dogs. He truly hoped these two captains could come to terms and settle things down. Colard had no wish to join the spirits that seemed so active below them. "What de think he meant by that? They aint goin' below to play cards are they?" Jimmy looked confused, and still had his hand resting on his sword hilt. "Nae, lad. I think it's tae be a confab o' sorts. Let's hope sae, anywise." Colard scratched his grizzled chin, kept an eye on the door to the great cabin, and a hand close to his pistol.

Colard was once again down in the hold, checking on the repair to the hull. It looked fine, just a tiny bit of seepage. Since he was not on duty, he had time to relax a bit, so he rested his haunches on a nearby keg, and thought about all that had happened to him since escaping Havana. Certain it was that he was glad to be on a fine English ship again, but her crew and captain still left him puzzled. Especially the captain, who appeared to be quite fierce and good at her job, but also a tad irrational, most often when dealing with the Captain of the Relentless. Colard could tell it was a relationship of long term, even if volatile, but he'd be damned if he could figure it out. Yet she had followed the man to this mysterious island, where, if she were to be believed, there would be gold aplenty. Well, he'd heard that often enough over his long life. And all those promises had come to naught. He stood, stretched, and was about to head topside, when he heard a voice calling him from the forward hold. "Turn back, old man. Only death awaits you here." Colard peered into the darkness. "Who's there?" But he got no answer, and saw no one. Feeling his skin rise in gooseflesh, he scurried away, up onto the deck and into the sunshine.

Colard stood alone by the damaged hull, and hoped he hadn't been too optimistic in his assessment of the repair. True, it was holding fast now, but he didn't like the look of a few places where dampness showed on the new planks. He'd better find Jimmy, and together they would add more tar and oakum to seal the small leaks before they became big ones. If the weather held, and they reached a safe harbor tomorrow, Colard felt all would be well. A much better repair could be made, but he needed time. Something he may or may not get.

Colard had watched with interest as the two ships drew alongside each other. It also eased his mind that the two captains seemed to have put their personal feelings aside for the good of the two crews. After the conference was over, Colard went below to check the repair, which looked to be still holding nicely. Yet his old heart was a bit heavy with Nate gone. He'd liked the lad, but had no illusions about the chances of seeing him again. The sea was a cruel mistress, and a man in a small boat was but a toy to her. With a final check of the hull, he went back up on deck. He walked to the stern and let his gaze follow their wake. But try as hard as he could, squinting his old eyes, he could see no trace of the jolly boat and its lone occupant. With a sigh, he returned to his duties, but there was no song in him this day.

Colard was aware of a new tension on board. It was obvious that a search of the ship was in progress, and that Nate,especially, was distraught. In fact, a general air of malaise had settled over the Rakehell after the abortive meeting with the Relentless and her captain. Colard had thought that once the two ships were reunited, things might ease up a bit. Captain Tar's reaction to their appearance had not been what Colard expected, and it worried him. Bad enough that the Spanish were most likely still on their tail, but if these two ships were at odds with each other, then what hope did they have if the galleon caught them up? And if Captain Tar didn't want them as a sailing companion, then why were they still following his ship? Not being an overly superstitious man, Colard was nevertheless getting a bit jittery over the whole situation, and hoped his sense of foreboding was due to nothing more than an empty stomach and the want of a good tot of rum.

Colard backed away from the two men, seeing as how it was obvious the man Roberts didn't want anyone listening to what he whispered into Nate's ear. Colard was a bit wary of Roberts, as he didn't know the man at all, and he'd been powerful quiet ever since he, Nate, and the other woman had come aboard after the Captain had sunk their jolly boat. So far as ol' Colard could tell, they didn't seem to be the most social pair, but he was in no position to judge, being new on this ship himself. He just hoped that whatever the bone of contention between the two captains was, they'd get it chewed over and spat out before the Spanish showed up.

Colard shook his head, and grabbing Nate's coat sleeve, pulled him further away from the guns. "There be enough sparks flyin' tae blow both ships to the deevil. And yon Captain Tar nae looks too pleased tae see the lassy. It be best for us tae stand well away from the crossfire."

Colard stood at the bow again, the tot of rum in his stomach creating a warm glow. As he'd figured, the storm was already blowing itself out, and they were much closer to the brig, which he recognized as the Relentless. Even with the Rakehell's damaged hull holding, Colard was releived to see those sails ahead of them. At least they could be rescued if the mend let go. He glanced up at the captain, her face drawn with fatigue, her red hair flying in the wind, and decided that, even should the mended timbers burst, she'd flog them all raw before letting this ship sink. Colard had known many captains in his long life at sea. Most were pragmatists. If their ship sank and they survived, they'd find or take another, with no regrets for the one lying on the bottom. A rare few others became married to a single ship — as if it were a live thing. It could work for good or ill, depending. So far, Colard figured it had worked to the crew's advantage. He'd wait and see, as he always did. But he admired her, that he did, and felt no belittlement at working on a ship captained by a woman. He grinned over at young Nate, and started to sing..."And we'll row this chariot along, we'll row..."

While hauling in line, Colard heard crazy laughter and glanced over at young Nate. Sometimes Colard wasn't sure the lad was quite right in the head. When another fork of lightening lit the sky, the grin on Nate's face looked almost demonic, and Colard has pause to wonder if it was God the young man spoke to so often, or a less savory deity. He had little time to ponder the question, as the ship ran with the wind, her scuppers almost awash. It gave Colard's old heart a thrill, it did. And he has cause to thank his own, good protestant God that he'd landed on this ship, and wasn't still sweating his life away back in Cuba. When the rain came, the cool feel of it on his face was like a balm, and he suspected that the grin on his own face matched that of young Nate's.

Colard looked over at young Nate, dancing his jig. "It be a fine thing, I'm thinkin', tae be out on the sea again. I dinna ken I could hae stood that swamp stink for one more day. It be too bad the poour Spaniards fell asleep at thier post?" He gave the lad a wink, then started to sing...no need for quiet now.