Colard Dysart

Colard stood port side fore, keeping an eye out for snags and sand bars. He hummed softly to himself, more out of habit than anything else, the current situation being too serious for a proper song. The ship had turned south, and the water of the lake had picked up a slight chop due to the increased breeze, so floating debris was harder to see. He could also smell the storm coming in from ocean, the briny air blowing away the oder of rotting plants and swamp gas. If the dark, menacing clouds curling in from the southwest were any indication, the storm could be a big one, and they might be safer on the lake. No sure way to tell. If it did come howling in, Colard hoped it blew the Spanish galleon to perdition, or sent her to the cold, dark bottom.

Colard took the water dipper, drank, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Weel, I'm nae sae sure. I don't ken there's much here 'bouts, but it's been about ten years since I was last in these waters. And our ship never entered this lake, nor did we hae any Spaniards on our tail." He scratched his balding pate, then slapped at a buzzing insect. "Tae mae way o' thinking, she'd be better off heading out tae sea. If we stay here in the lake for too long, like as not the fever will get us, iffn the gators don't."

Colard clapped his arm around Nate, and grinned. "And the rest is good and all for the poor Spanish captain. And I've nae an ounce o' pity for him. Come below, lad. It appears you've nae sae much wet to ye, sae we'll share a wee dram o' rum, if ye'd care to, while your mates, here, get intae dry duds." Before he could lead the lad below, the captain said, "Make sure it's just a wee dram of rum. I want him sober when we meet in my cabin." "I'll see tae that, ma'am. And tae the others as well," Colard replied." Colard didn't know the other two wet and angry crew members, but it surprised him to see that one was a woman. It caused him to think, as he led the three below, that this was indeed, becoming a most interesting voyage. One he might enjoy and tell tales of to the end of his days, or one he might come to regret till his dying day. With an inward shrug, he thought, "Time will tell."

Colard stood at the rail looking out over the dark water of the inlet. The air smelled of rotted vegetation, and insects hummed in the air. As he watched, a snake as round as his wrist undulated across the surface of the oily-looking water. He pointed it out to the woman who stood next to him. "Ye'll want tae be warry of those, ma'am. Deadly, they are. Kill a man in a matter of minutes." She watched the snake until it dissappeared into the dense foliage on shore. "Anything else I should know?" "Weel, ma'am, there also be crocks in these waters. They come up under a man and drag him down. Some of them are sae big, they can swallow a man whole." "Friendly place, this," she said. "No, ma'am. It's nae a friendly place at all. If the snakes and the crocks don get ye, the fever will. Best we leave as soon as may be." She turned to him then, her eyes dark blue as the dusk sky. "As soon as may be, Mr. Dysart. I assure you." Colard felt a bit uncomfortable in her presence after that, so went back below decks to make sure the repairs to the hull were good and finished.

Colard, and the scrawny cook, Goose, raced below to inspect the damage. Colard feared the worst, as a fountain of sea water was spraying across the hold, ruining bales of provisions. "We be done for!" wailed the cook. "Nae, lad, let's hae a look first." Colard forced his way to the gyser, which had now soaked him to the skin, and looked both with eyes and hands. He then turned to the stricken man and smiled. "Weel, we've had a vicious knock, but she nae be holed, just stove in between the ribs. But we'll need tae get this water out o' her innards, right quick. You whip back on deck, tell the captain I'll need men tae man a pump, and help me tae stop up this dike. Off ye go now. Smart like." Goose nodded, then bolted from the hold. Colard looked around. "Now, let's see wha we can find tae mend this poor lady."

Colard stood at the larbard bow, gazing toward shore. Mist hovered under the trees and the air smelled of dank vegetation. The ocean, influenced by the river flowing into it, lay flat and oily-looking. It had been a long time since last he'd been in these waters, but Colard remembered the smell — and the thick, humid heat which seemed to press against his chest. Just heading around the lee of an island, and just above the tree line, he could see the tip of a mast, and a pennant coiling and uncoiling in the light breeze. "How far up river is the port?" the captain asked. She stood next to him, one hand shading her eyes as she watched her ship's progress. He was sure she'd also seen the mast. "Can't say as I remember, but a fair distance. You won't want tae take the ship in. It's the jolly boat as what'll be needed. And you'll need tae keep a canny eye out for snags and sand bars. They shift like ghosts, and make the river a trecherous ol' deevil." She smiled. "You've a canny eye, I suspect. You keep watch here, for now, and I'll send Jimmy aloft to do the same. When we catch up to the Relentless, we'll see what's what." Colard nodded. "Aye, Ma'am, I'll do that." But Colard had the feeling she was more interested in the ship navagating the river ahead of them, and that accounted for the smile on her face.

Bein' that he'd had a long life on the sea, and was familier with the contrary ways of captains and sailors, Colard didn't find the Rakehell's sudden change of course odd. Well, maybe just a wee bit odd, but he paid it no heed. With a woman at the helm — fickle creatures, prone to sudden flights of the mind — what else could one expect? With his short-term friend Nate gone to the other vessel, Colard had turned to the man called Tunny for any questions he had. Tunny was close to Colard's age, but unlike Colard, was thin and wiry, and had a nose which jutted from his face like a weathervane, and a long que of hair the color of mud. As they worked to get the ship on her new course, Colard asked, "How long has young lassie been Captain of this fine vessel?" Tunny scratched his head with a bony finger. "Well, she been Captain for as long as I been aboard, and that's commin' on five years this winter. No doubt it'll take ya some gettin' used to, but make no mistake friend, she's good at her job, fairer than most, but will flay your hide if ya cross her. And stay on the Blackamoor's good side, if ya know what's best. Guards her like a hell-hound, he does." Colard nodded. "Oh, I'll mind mae ways, and cause nae trouble with yon Blackamoor. But all the same, I thank yea for the good advice."

Being new to the Rakehell, Colard wasn't sure what had just happened, or why they had slipped out of Havana without the other ship, but the mood on board had gone somber. The captain kept to herself, either brooding at the stern, or below in her cabin. The big blackamoor was the only one pleased they were at sea again. Colard did as he was told, and the rest of the crew didn't seem to mind his presence. But he couldn't quite bring himself to hum a tune as was his wont, the atmosphere being a wee bit too black for it to seem proper. A shame, really, for he was full of tunes that needed singing. Without thinking, his gruff voice kept low, the tune sneeked out. One, he thought, fitting their circumstances. "Oh, another drop o' rum wouldn't do us any harm...."

It made Colard's ol' heart swell with pride to hear the sound of honest English voices. Nearly brought a tear to his eye, it had been that long. Somehow, the Spanish songs he'd heard while stranded in Havana hadn't held the same appeal as the ones he'd known since boyhood. So he added his deep growl to the rest, and sang with a will, feeling more alive than he had in two long years.

Colard wasn't too sure how to take the captain's last words, but was distracted when her expression changed to one of mirth. He turned around to see what she was looking at, and was surprised to see a handsome, rather flashy Spanish woman go aboard the other ship. Colard thought her to be quite a vision, and wandered toward the bow to see if he could get a better look at her. Before he could inspect her charms more closely, she went below. With a sigh, he went back to his chores, muttering sadly, "Tish, ol' son, yea may hae picked the wrong ship tae plead sanctuary on."

Colard had a chuckle over the threats made by the Blackamoor and the Captain. He'd heard hundreds such, and they never amounted tae much in the long haul. But the fear of no rum for two weeks had put a liveliness in their step, an no mistake. A few moments later he found himself standing near the poop deck, where the captain was still standing, her attention focused on the brig tied before them. Taking off his hat and clearing his throat to get her attention, he knuckled his forehead and said, "I be wantin' tae thank yea, ma'am, for takin' this lowly creature on board. I'll try me best tae give yea good service for your kindness."

Colard watched the crew members stumble around the deck, still too drunk to be of much use. He smiled, knowing he'd been in just such a condition half his long life. With a shake of his head, he kept to his work, waiting to see when the ship would leave the harbor. As was his habit, he sang softly under his breath as he bent to his tasks..."Oh, I wish I were a bosun aboard a man-o-war, Sam's gone away....."

Colard nodded as young Nate left with the captain, glad that he had not been asked to go with them in search of the other crew members. Though, truth be told, Colard could probably describe by rote the interior and proprietor of every tavern along the docks, being as how he'd been drunk in all of them. Just as he was feeling all content with his lot, he heard a shouting. Peering through the skuppers, he saw his former employer running up and down the wharf, shaking his fists and and cursing flamboyantly. Colard hunkered down even lower, his back to the wharf, pulled his knit cap over his ears, and kept coiling rope.

Colard settled to his work, content to let things be for the moment. A ship was a small place, and sooner or later he'd hear what was what. No need ta pry. Besides, he didn't really care what the ship's business was, just so long as he got away from Havana. So he coiled rope, singing an old song as he did so, his gravely voice just above a whisper......"We'll roll....we'll roll...we'll roll...an we'll all hold on behind..."

When his young guide returned, Colard, noticing that, other than himself and the Blackamoor, the ship was missing her crew, asked, "Sae, I canna help but wonder why yea hae come tae this port, being as how Spain ain't sae friendly with the English at present. Nae that I'm sorry that yea hae done, otherways mae ol' carcass would still be in yonder warehouse, sweatin' mae life away. Foreby, if yea see a wee squint of a man, with bandy legs and a scowl on his face headin' thisaway, I'd favor if yea could pretend yea never heard of me, while I just hunker down behind the capstan, if yea take mae meanin'." He gave young Nate a wink.

Colard followed his young guide to the upper deck. "Oh, I've known ships since I were a bairn. Me family has a long tradition o' bein' in the Owl trade off the coast o' Scotland, ifn ya take mae meaning. Then it were one ship after another. I landed on this popish island by mischance and mae own foolishness. Drunk, I were, more's the pity. Got taken capture, an' figured it were a Spanish galley for me 'til the end o' me days." He scratched his beard, then grinned. "Guess them Spaniards decided not ta waste an oar on an ol' codger like me, so brought me ashore an put me ta work in that warehouse I run from. That were, oh, two years ago, come winter. I was that glad ta see yer fine English ships come inta the harbor."

Colard truly thought he'd died and gone to heaven. He hadn't expected the captain to take him on, and here he stood in new togs, and the prospect of a shave. Not that he'd lose all his beard, mind, but a good trim would put him right as rain. Yup, ol' Colard, he thought, you've landed yerself into a nice plum pudding, that you have. He turned to the man called Nate. "I'm that grateful, suh, that I am." Then he gave the young man a wink. "Now tell an ol' salt, how is it workin' for a woman? For I've nae seen the like of it before."

Colard looked quickly behind him again, but so far, his boss hadn't noticed he was gone. He faced the captain. "Well, as it happens, yes. Foreby, I'd really like it if young Nate here could show mae on board, whippety quick. I'm in nae trouble, mind, but...well, I've nae mind tae stay in Havana any longer, if ya take my meaning, ma'am."

Colard looked from the Blackamoor to the other man holding his arm, then back at the captain. 'Cause that would be by way of being a good Christian act, ma'am." Then Colard cranked his head around, looking to see if his boss, that swarthy devil Macario, had discovered he'd escaped — or nearly escaped.

Two alarming things happened before Colard could reach the ship. One, the large Blackamoor blocked his way to the gangplank, and two, behind his left ear he heard a pistol cock. Then the captain, who to Colard's great amaze was a woman, yelled for the men to grab him, which they did none too gently. He made no attempt to struggle, and his wiry frame was held until the captain stood in front of him, her blue eyes blazing like the furies, and demanded to know who he was. "Colard Dysart, at yer service...er, disposal, sort to speak. I mean nae harm so's ye need nae fear. As ye can see, I've nae a weaon on mae person, more's the pity. Harmless as a bairn, ye could say. Just wantin' passage on a nice friendly ship that'll take this poor carcass away from this Popish country." He grinned up at her through his grizzled beard.

It had taken all his will not to dance for joy when Colard Dysart saw the two ships come into Havana harbor. Beauties they were, and no mistake. And English, not one of those frumperied Spanish galleons with popish names, neither. Yet when they had tied to the docks, rather than rush up and beg to be taken on boad, as he wished with all his old heart, he'd waited and watched. No sense getting excited all for naught. May hap the captains wouldn't have him, being a stranger and all. But by God, when he saw the two on the quarterdeck taking tea, as if there weren't no cares in all the world, and not danger in every quarter, he could wait no longer. With a quick glance 'round to be sure his Spanish boss weren't lookin' his way, Colard, two years trapped in Havana and missing his homeland of Scotland, made a dash for the neat little schooner — and freedom.