Bloody papers. He slipped the band off a scroll and handed it to Vander, along with a small purse of coins. “I believe everything is in order?” He sounded more confident than he felt.
The Captain’s eyes barely touched the paper but instead remained set on the bag. He hefted it up and looked inside. His eyes seemed to glitter for just a moment.
“Why yes, I believe so.” He stood up then. “The King thanks you for your donation Sir... Trevvor.” Simeon ignored the mispronunciation and grinned at the man. “A pleasure, I look forward to our next meeting.”
And that was that. Why can’t all meetings with officers be that straight an' forward?
But he was surprised at how exact Garrin’s prediction had been. SImeon's instincts flared up, it stank of more than familiarity of the routes, had he planned this? There was no way that Garrin could have still been the simple pirate he’d been when they had worked together. Did Garrin perhaps have some of the aristocrats in his coffers?
Simeon deemed that a little ambitious for that slow minded fool.
He wouldn’t have the Dray’s in his pocket that was for sure. Just like Vander senior, the Drays had a misguided notion of honour. They wouldn’t succumb to corruption, that much was for certain, which meant that this Vander had to be on somebody’s payroll, if he was even a Vander at all.
The Captain left the ship, undid the lashes and they were free to travel onwards and away from Dawnrose.
Simeon turned to his first mate.
“You did well letting me know about his coming, watch the waters.” He patted him on the shoulder.
“Where you going Simeon?” his first mate asked.
“To finish my date with a bottle of rum. Wake me at the first sign of trouble, or when we near Heart Lake." He stopped and paused for a moment. "Second thoughts, deal with it yerself and I'll wake when I wake.” He pushed open the wooden door but turned before he entered. “Bear in mind, there ain’t just us on the waters looking for a spare few. There are many pirates know how to turn a crowd into a sack of gold.” The first mate nodded and he returned to his seat.
He grabbed the glasses and put them back, then picked up the hooch that was left and took a long drink. He had a feeling things wouldn’t be so easy the deeper they got.
Simeon lay on his bed.
Three years, a whole three years since his last proper raid, and here he was, paying off officers and selling goods at market like a moronic peasant. He threw the rest of the bottle at the nearest wall and watched it smash into a hundred shards, the dregs of the bottle splattering the already stained floor.
He turned his face up to the ceiling, just staring, trying not to remember, wishing anything for the dark claws of sleep to come take him. But there was no peace.
Even now, he still imagined bloated faces floating in the deep. Dead bodies with open white eyes staring at him, judging him for drowning them.
It was enough to keep a man awake for an eternity.