December 26, 1719 – New Providence
“And what did ya do then?” the buxom redhead across the bar asked, “Did you ever see this goddess of yours again?”John smiled, “In fact, I did. I was still nursing this injury,” he showed her the bizarre scar on his forearm, “when an eagle came to the window of my cabin with this,” he pulled out his copy of the Odyssey – slightly singed, but still readable – and handed it to her. “Can you read?”
“What do yeh take me for?” she quirked an eyebrow, “I can read just fine in English and French. Wouldn’t mind someone teachin’ me Spanish though,” she winked. The woman opened the book and flipped to the inside of the cover; there was a handwritten dedication inside. “Is this Greek?”
“Aye, I had to take it to a scholar in Port Royale to get it translated.”
“What does it say?”
“It says, ‘Homer was a romantic fool, but I hope you find your home sooner than than Oddy did.’ So, I guess that’s my life now – trying to find home.”
“And dodging monsters and French frigates all the way.”
“You don’t believe me? Was the story just too strange?”
“Oh, I’ve seen my share of the strange in this world,” the woman smiled, “No, the only thing I don’t believe is that anyone in a sloop could be lucky enough to survive a point-blank broadside from a 44-gun French frigate. Now, about your tab…”
John gave her a pained look, “But it’s my birthday!”
“Well I call bollocks on that one for sure,” she reached for the gold coin in John’s hand.
“Uh-uh,” he snatched it away, “I never spend that one. This coin came to me from Sam Bellamy himself. I’m supposed to take it to his widow in Cape Cod.”
“Black Sam’s been dead for close to two years,” the woman said, “And you’ve not gotten that done?”
“I’ve been busy,” Rackham said, “I swear, Massachusetts colony is my very next stop. Soon as I can find a new quartermaster, that is. T. and D.C. went their own way, soon as we made port.”
“You got anyone in mind?”
“Yeah, I talked to a fellow this afternoon by the name of Marius, Marius Read. He’s an unusually skinny bloke, but a damned fine sailor if half the stories he tells are true. Assuming I tear myself away from this fine establishment to get the job done, are you likely to still be here next time I make port in Nassau?”
“Me? Where would I go? I burned down my daddy’s plantation and all I got from it is a lazy-ass useless husband to support. No m’friend, I’m stuck right where I am.”
“Well, maybe next time I’m in town, we can see about changing that,” he patted the book and pushed it back across the bar to her, “Hold on to it for me, love. It might take a little before you get into it, but you’ll enjoy it.”
“That’s what my husband said when he tried to prick me in the bum,” the woman looked at him skeptically.
Rackham laughed as he fished some change out of his coin purse, “Never change, Anne Bonny, the world would be so much less interesting without women like you.”
“Well now, Calico Jack Rackham thinks I’m interesting. I must be doing something right.”
Calico Jack got up from his seat, kissed Anne’s hand goodbye, and headed to the tavern door. He had an errand to run, and relating that story had impressed something upon him – it was probably best he unload Sam Bellamy’s lucky coin before he ran into Adresteia again.
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