Page 47 of A Flash of Golden Fire

“Who knows? Let’s go find out, shall we?”

Part of me wanted to stay here in the coziness and comfort of the captain’s quarters. But he seemed eager to join the fun.

He helped me clean up, sniggering about the amount of seed he’d dropped in me, the cheeky bastard. I imagined this would likely be a continuing theme with him, and I surely didn’t mind it. There was nothing like being filled by a man you admired, especially when the courtesy made him so proud.

The captain stripped off his soiled shirt and dropped the garment into a basket in the corner. He found a fresh one in a drawer.

“Do you know how to do laundry, Rooster? We should wash these bedsheets once a week to keep the vermin and the smells away,” he said as he drew on the clean shirt.

“I don’t, but I suppose I can learn,” I said since I was in a good mood and had decided to do what I could to stay in his good graces.

“That’s the spirit,” he said with a smile that was everything.

Once we’d dressed, I followed him out the door. Boone was sitting there as usual—did the man ever take a leak or a shit?—and now looked up.

“Boone, why don’t you lock up and join the hullabaloo?” Captain Martin said. “We’re going up, and I have the other key in my pocket.”

“Thank you, Captain Martin. I was hoping to,” Boone said and stood.

The deck was crowded with men in good spirits, holding bottles of whatever liquor they could get their hands on. I knew there was rum aboard, of course, but I’d also been offered drams of whiskey, and the cook served ale with every big meal.

There was singing and laughing and cursing. I didn’t want to hang onto the captain like a dog, so I headed away when I saw Martinéz and Lahiri, but strong fingers circled my wrist and the captain pulled me back.

“Where do you think you’re going, Rooster?”

I blinked at him. “I see my friends, Captain.”

Captain Martin followed my gaze, then considered. His grip relaxed and let me loose.

“Only come back to me soon, please.”

He gazed at me in a daft kind of way that made my heart flutter.

“Of course, I will. I just want to say halloo.”

He nodded, and I left him.

“White!” Martinéz shouted as I neared. “You broke free of the captain’s shackles, I see!”

“Ropes is more like,” I said, grinning and rubbing my wrist as if there was a burn there. “He does like to keep me still when he’s feeling amorous.”

Lahiri chortled, his copper skin looking softer than a moonlit night. He was a delicate fellow—wiry, like me. I’d asked where he was originally from, and he’d said Kolkata in the East Indies, a very hot and crowded place. He liked the sea better and had hid away on a merchant vessel that had been overtaken by theArrowa few years back. He’d skirted most of the fighting and had shown the crew to the booty on board their ship once the battle was won. Captain Martin had offered him a place, and he’d been crew ever since.

Martinéz was from Madrid and had been a member of a Spanish militia ship that Captain Martin and his crew had ransacked. There were several others on theArrowwho had deserted for Captain Martin, and for the opportunity to live in a different way, without the classism and structure of the Spanish military organization. Even though, to most Englishmen, the Spaniards were the enemy, if these men had abandoned their countrymen that was proof enough they were on our side.

All the folks on board, from what I’d gleaned, preferred a rebellious nomadic life on the seas to the restrictive lives they’d known. Myself included. So far, life aboard Captain Martin’s ship had treated me better than anywhere else.

I sat my arse down on a sack of potatoes and stretched my legs. There was a lovely soft breeze, so the ship rocked peacefully on the current that carried her along. Half the sails had been rolled and tied, so that we drifted along at a sedate pace. It had been a day of hard work for most, and the fresh sea air did well to cover the smell of so many unbathed men.

The overnight crew were at their posts and seemed relatively alert, although most had cups or bottles in hand to partake of the festivities.

“The captain treating you well, then?” Martinéz asked.

“Oh aye. Keeps me in luxury, he does, except when we’re fucking. Then he likes to treat me all lowly, like I’m his helpless slave.” I grinned. “It’s bloody perfect.”

“Jesus. You’re as filthy as he is.”

“I think they’re a good match,” Lahiri said. “The captain likes to subdue his lovers, and Simon appears to like a good struggle.”

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