Follow the Captain

As Brenan left Sasha and the Caruthers brothers in the good hands of the Jones twins he could not help but think about how poorly this odd crew of his would fair if they were being chased by either a Veer ship looking for Sasha or just an average pirate ship hoping for an easy prize.

As tough as Kyle and Tyler were, neither one of them had the mean streak that they needed to be feared in a fight. Julien had the skills, but fighting in a gentleman's dueling hall was very different from the free-for-all fight he'd encounter if they were ever boarded. Red could handle herself, but he'd need her to man the wheel, and he had no idea how well Red had trained Cindy to handle herself in a fight. He could definitely use some more muscle. Even more than that, Brenan need a gun officer who could make the most out of his two twelve pounders.

Finding experienced gunnery officers was never an easy prospect, especially when his small schooner only carried two twelve pounders, and Brenan had been asking around Freeport since Davy had contacted him about buying his ship. The best lead he had was a rumor he had heard that Black Bart?s chief gunner had had a falling out with his captain. Normally selecting an officer based on his inability to get along with his previous captain would not be Brenan?s ideal method, but knowing what Brenan did about Bart and his morals, he was willing to take disagreeing with him as an endorsement.

Brenan moved swiftly through the streets to a inn called the ?Powder Keg?. As the name implied, the inn was popular with gun crews, he had heard that Mr. Michaels was spending his severance pay in true seaman fashion. Hopefully the gunner would be at the inn and in condition to at least listen to Brenan?s proposal.

Brenan didn?t get much of a description of this Michaels character, the best he got from the drunk deckhand was ?He?s the oddest thing you?ve ever laid eyes on.? Brenan figured that if he was in the bar, the innkeeper or one of the serving maids would be able to point him out. As it turned out the drunk seaman?s description worked just fine.

Brenan had no sooner walked into the ?Keg? than he immediately spotted what could only be called ?the oddest thing he had ever seen.? The inn was still only about half full, this early in the afternoon, but at all the occupied tables but one Brenan saw pretty much what he expected. Groups of men and the occasional women drinking, singing, playing dice or cards and even two burly armed men engaged in an epic arm wrestling contest that looked at least a couple minutes old and that could easily last for a good deal longer. All around the room loud voices were raised in excitement and Brenan found it difficult to think. He remembered that most gunners were hard of hearing as a result of their trade and one of the reasons he never frequented this inn was the constant din.

In the middle of all this chaos, like a lover on a sunny autumn park composing poetry far from the world, was a tall grey haired man wearing a double breasted wool jacket with silver buttons fastened nearly to his neck. The man was bent carefully over a leather book and was carefully recording something into his ledger. Curiously, a large trunk sat against the wall near the man who had ordered a drink but not touched the beer for some time because the head of the bear was completely dissolved but the level of the beer was still high on the mug.

Moving past the crowd of men cheering on the arm wrestlers, Brenan sat down on the bench opposite the man and waited silently for him to notice his presence. As Brenan waited patiently for the man to look up from his sketching, he looked around the room again watching for Veer agents who may have spotted him or any other signs of trouble. Two pickpockets whom Brenan remembered seeing operating in a brothel nearer Davy?s shipyard were looking him over, but he met their gaze with a look that made them turn quickly away. The only other person who seemed to even notice his arrival was a sailor who wore a sword hanging from a bright red sash who eyed him with bored curiosity as he waited.

The swordsman clearly was meticulous about his appearance, his hair fell in neat ringlets from under a jaunty feathered hat and although Brenan could not see his hands clearly in the poor light of the inn he guessed that the man?s nails were as neatly polished as his boots and brilliant guard and pommel of his sword. Just as Brenan decided the man might soon be hitting on him his tablemate looked up with a start.

?Oh, pardon me.? The man?s eyes were clear and alert, no need to worry about him being drunk, decided Brenan. ?A pleasure, a pleasure I?m sure.? And then after a second careful glance ?Have we met before??

?No, I don?t believe we have.? Brenan replied with a smile, ?You are, I believe Mr. Michaels??

?At your service.? Mr. Michaels half rose in his seat and gave Brenan an odd half bow.

?Well I hope so? Brenan told the odd man, ?I have a job offer for you, are you interested??