Carmichael was doubly surpised at Nathaniel's reaction to his blunt statement about needing to talk. Not only had his old friend addressed him in a very informal manner, which he scarely did when able to be heard by the rest of the crew, but he also placed a hand on his shoulder.
Suspicion, and concern wormed its way into Carrington's mind as his old friend walked away, but there were more important things to worry about at the moment.
He slithered away from Angelique and her patient, and made his way erratically weaving way closer to Thuron and the shining new First Mate.
He managed to drop a few eaves before the captain began to speak and he wormed his way forward. His mind was hardly on what Nathan was shouting, he'd heard his speaches plenty of times over the last two decades after all, but instead, he became introspective, fumbling his way through years of bloodshed, drinking, and whoring.
It wasn't until the Captain shouted his order for the prisoners to be left aboard their sinking ship that he was rocked by a dark, delightful memory and he quickly moved through the throng of men as Nathaniel motioned him forward.
The cabin was not as well stocked as it could be. In the action the Acheron had been in over the past few days most of the furniture had been moved out and put in the hold for safe keeping. It had only been in the short amount of time after the victory over the two ships that Mr. Peters had organised some of the dunnage brought back up. The windows to either side were a little worse for wear, one of them sporting an amusing round hole from a shot that had bounced its way across the cabin, the ball itself now sitting in the corner of the room. A door behind the table Nate now sat at led to his apartment, a larger room in which he could host meetings and dinners, with large windows that looked over the wake of the ship. Nate almost flinched at the thought of the state that room must be in, not to mention his sleeping quarters and privy. Brushing those thoughts aside he refocused on Carrington, motioning to another chair at the table for him to sit.
Drawing on what he himself knew, Nate was sure he had met Jacqueline somewhere before, and, although her name didn't mean much to him, her appearance did. Nate prided himself on his memory, but after thirty years of life, and much of the last twenty spent near or in combat, some of it had begun to fade. "Maybe what Carmichael has to say will clear my mind on the matter," Nate thought, his eyes scanning those of his loyal friend. A nusciance at times, Carrington would not have reacted like this unless he believed there was a danger to the Acheron. That, Nate could always rely on.
Of course, Lieutenant Thompson was another matter. Nate could see that she certainly had potential, in time he had no doubt she would earn his respect as a valued member of the Acheron. However, he would have to speak to her about her dealings with the stowaways, though not stowaways any more by any stretch. Arming one of them against his express orders with the flintlock he had given her as a symbol of acceptance was not something Nate would forget quickly, nor forgive easily. Placing the offending pistol on the table between himself and Carrington, Nate wondered how she would react to his latest order. Killing men in battle was one thing, but sinking a ship with helpless prisoners on it was another. Nate's hatred of the Royal Navy was such that if he had time he would have killed them in a longer lasting and certainly more painful way, but he was unsure where Ren's loyalties lay. "We shall have to see," Nate thought, leaning forwards and placing his wounded arm gingerly on the table.
Nate was dying for a moment's rest, even a trip to the tops to clear his mind. The climb up through the rigging was always invigorating, and hanging off the highest point of the mainmast with the wind in his hair always helped him lose himself for a moment or two. An hour with his pride and joy, the violin that sat in its case in his sleeping quarters, would be even better. But this matter needed resolving, and Nate guessed it would not be an easy one to solve. The bounty hunter had told him that Jacqueline's bounty was worth a lot of money, but bounty hunting was something Nate viewed himself as above. He took what he needed. He did not pander to government officials who would pat him on the back for a job well done and hand him a tiny purse. No, he wasn't interested in the bounty, simply why the woman felt so familiar to him. He had said to her "to my mind, you only know someone when you have fought them", and for some reason her appearance had brought feelings like that. The mystery was killing him.
"So Carmichael, tell me, but keep to the facts. No conjecture."
Carrington was busy looking about and noting the dishevelled state of the cabin with some amount of remorse. His interest was piqued at the sight of the sextant Nathaniel placed on the table, and a smile spread at the sight of the pistol.
He had been wondering if the Captain had forgotten about it, or had simply decided to let sleeping dogs lie. He was relieved that this was not the case.
Carrington stepped forward, drawing the flask from his coat and pouring an equal measure into a cup that had somehow remained on the table and placed it before Nathaniel. He raised the flask in a toasting motion before taking a drink and a seat.
"Apparently Mr. Donovan, and Mr. Franklin weren't as thorough this time.", he said, indicating the sextant, "They better 'ave gotten the maps, journals and anything else important..."
He knew that Nathaniel knew about his standing orders for the pair to ransack the cabins during raids, and he was quite disappointed the pair had left such an important, and expensive item behind.
Carrington noted the grimace cross his old friend's face as he placed his wounded arm on the table and said, "Before I speak anything more, facts, or conjecture, and the like, ye better have that young woman look at your arm before ye bleed out, or it becomes septic..."
Nathaniel scowled at Carrington and deliberately flexed his arm and rolled his slashed shoulder, gritting his teeth to make the display effective. "I'll live for now Carrington," Nate almost growled, "so get on with it. This is more important." As he spoke Nate could feel the deep cut on his cheek clotting and getting harder to move. He would make a point of not seeking any attention until every other man in the crew had been seen first.
Carrington had to admit that he liked the fire that Captain possessed. He was one of the toughest bastards he knew, and also knew that he was the only person worthy of his loyalty. The man, despite being as cold and sadistic and Carrington himself, always looked out for the crew and the ship first.
The Navigator simply shrugged the point away, and took another pull from the rapidly dwindling flask. He was happy he had found it however, the adrenaline from the fighting was quickly wearing off and the past two days without sleep was making the various bumps and bruises stand out all the more. Thankfully the rum in the flask was dulling these down.
He idly rubbed the glaring bruise on his chest for a moment as he leaned back in his chair with a resigned sigh and looked his captain squarely in the eyes.
"Well Nathaniel...", he began, "I 'ave been getting this strange feeling from the older woman that decided to steal aboard during the chaos of departure for some time now, but I never let it concern me much. We had more important matters to address and a few rogues boarders were not so important."
Carrington paused for a moment and took another pull from his flask and tossed the empty vessel onto the table before leaning forward and placing his elbows upon its surface.
"When I was aboard the Illustrious I was nearly slain... Took a shot to the chest. Only thing that saved me was the fucking compass.", he continued, removing the compass from around his neck and slamming the heavily dented device onto the table next to the pistol.
"Miss Thompson managed to pull me aboard, and once I was among the world of the living once more, I made my way below deck to clear me mind of the brush with the reaper... And there she was, Miss Thompson, standing alone within the officers' quarters, staring at the same piece of parchment ye just saw, painted with the Frenchwoman's face. This got me thinkin'. I recognized the face and took a closer look and thing started fallin' together. From what I managed to catch before ye gave yer speach to the men, the Frenchwoman was a sailor, a pirate, and she had some run ins with our new first mate's father. Somehow, Miss Thomspon idolized both. Perhaps she is a navy girl with a black heart, or a scallywag with a heart of gold, but either way she is navy."
This last sentence seemed to hit a chord with Carrington, for he stalked over to the cabinet, which was blessedly intact, and poured another drink for himself and the Captain and brought both back to the table. After knocking back a fair portion, he looked back at Nathaniel and continued, "I find it quite the coincidence that this supposed former navy girl could be at the same city the was the most likely spot for us to make berth after our vicious fight and subsequent flight. She's still wearin' navy colors for Christ's sake..."
He stopped for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to bring himself back on track.
Nate ignored the drink, though he shuffled a little at the rate Carrington was going through the contents of his personal collection. It had been a while since Nate had replenished his stock of Portugese Port or deep Italian red wines that he was fond of. "I wear navy colours Carmichael. I'm glad we've finally got another officer who does," here Nate cast a critical eye over Carrington's appearance. "Besides, if she was sent by the navy I doubt they'd hound her to near starvation. The Admiralty isn't clever enough to actually use convincing agents, and Thompson really looked starving before I brought her aboard."
Leaning back in his chair Nate eyed the compass. "I'll have to get you a new one. I heard the Venetians are making good ones these days. Remind me to stop some Italian shipping some time." Looking back up at Carrington Nate thanked the luck they both seemed to share. Both had been wounded many times, but the devil's own luck ran with them for now, and nothing had maimed, crippled or killed them so far. Testing that luck over and over again had proved fruitful in the past. The almost casual nature of this conversation was testament to their long years together. If anyone else had used his first name, Nate would have personally gutted them.
Ren's father? There was only one Thompson Nate knew who had been in the navy, and they had hardly been on good terms. Captain Thompson had come close to scuppering Nate early on in his career, and had hounded his wake as he attacked and raided shipping as much as he could during the final years of his career in the Royal Navy. "They can't be related can they? I certainly never heard of anything" Nate pushed the thought from his mind. It didn't matter.
"I knew she was a pirate Carmichael. The German girl sorting the long nines is a mercenary after the bounty on her head. I thought I recognised this French woman but her name means nothing to me." Nate placed his hands under his chin and leant his elbows on the table. "This doesn't help me. Did you hear anything else? See a name or any details on the poster?"
Carrington chuckled at Nathaniel's seeming concern at his wounding. The pair were as hearty and as lucky as any, and it would take far more than some hopeless shot to bring either of them down, but he appreciated the notion all the same.
Ignoring the remark about the compass because he already had a new one lined up, and even if he hadn't he knew the Captain would make good on his promise.
He blinked for a moment as he recalled the young woman he had seen, and inadvertently stroked, working on the cannons on deck.
A German bounty hunter was strange in these parts indeed, but then again, everything was strange lately, and there was no point in dwelling on the matter.
A grin spread across his face as the earnest questioning of Nathaniel came forth and he drained his mug as he continued, "Well Nathaniel, as I was below deck of the Illustrious, I managed to catch a good look at the poster that Miss Thompson held, and I also heard enough of their conversation to put some pieces together. About a decade, most likely more ago, we came across a ship that was apparently a merchant vessel simply carrying cargo, but I recognized a man from a poster that you wound up fighting in single combat before we sank the entire vessel. Well... it would appear that that we were mistaken. The only thing I think you would truly find interesting about Miss Thompson's poster is the name, Serpent's Teeth."
Nate slammed his palm down on the table as that night flashed before his eyes in a moment of clarity. How could he have forgotten? That dark and stormy night ten years ago had nearly ended his career before it had begun in earnest. Still a new captain in the Royal Navy, he had taken his ship on the hunt for the infamous 'Serpent's Teeth', a French pirate the Navy had been hunting a long while. As he recalled, Isaac Thompson his tormentor had been heading up the chase, before the old fool got himself crippled.
Nate had caught up with the ship the Serpent's Teeth was using in the middle of a raging storm, sheet rain slashing across the decks of both ships as cannons blazed and wood slammed together in the boarding. Quick flashes of images of combat lit by lightning and gunfire went through Nate's mind, and he saw the man, twin sabers twirling as they duelled back and forth across the soaking deck. Each gained the advantage in turn, a swift blow nearly severing Nate's jugular. A kick in the chest had sent the man sprawling backwards as Nate followed with his sword, jamming it between the man's ribs and through his heart. The rest of the night was a blur.
"That's impossible Carmichael. We killed the Serpent's Teeth, wrecked his ship. It can't possibly have been her." Nate picked up the drink Carrington had poured him and downed it, his fist clenching the empty cup in white knuckled fury. "How could it be her?" The pieces were fitting together now, and Nate was, for once, at a loss. "Are you sure Carmichael? It's not just someone who looks like the person on the poster? God be damned if the Serpent's Teeth was a woman. A regular damn Anne Bonney" Picking up the cup Nate threw it through the broken window, clenching and unclenching his fists as he wracked his brain.
Carrington was rather impassive as Nate reacted to his revalation. He was familiar with such things that he had suspected such an outburst, but the Navigator knew what he saw and knew what he recalled.
"We saw a man fighting with a pair of cutlasses, and not very well. You fought him with one and defeated him, and everything we had been led to believe was that this, Serpent's Teeth was nearly unmatched with a pair of swords. Ye handily beat him whilst I fought plenty of 'is own men. Only a 'andful of people made it off of that ship, mostly women. Who has carried a confiscated blade upon the ship so far? And, while we're at it, let us think of the many goings on aboard. We have a new first mate trying to prove herself while constantly belittling the crew she should be winning over, we have an apparent bounty hunter eyeing our cannon, we 'ave a nigh legendary pirate stowing away on the ship, while her kin is tending to our men. My suggestion would be to assign someone to the younger lass. Perhaps Mr. Franklin, he's as trustworthy and loyal as they come, or Mr. Donovan. We all know he fancies boys, and she would be safe with 'im until she gets your wounds, and we get her guardian sorted one way or another."
Fuming in silence, Nate listened to what Carrington said and turned it over in his mind. At the moment he didn't trust his judgement. Heat was all very well and good in a battle, but this required delicate handling. If it was true, and Jacqueline was the real Serpent's Teeth, things could go deadly very quickly if she remembered what he did. Granted he had been younger, and years at sea had not been kind to his complexion, but there was a chance she would eventually recognise him. Damnation for not remembering earlier. The only chance he would have is if she was out of practice, and he was as good as he hoped. Fighting dirty was always an option. On board the Acheron, there was nowhere to run, and a few hundred men hunting you through a small space was not something he envied her if she chose to try and kill him.
Looking up at Carrington, Nate nodded. "See to it. Get Mr. Dogood to watch the girl though. I trust him more than your hounds." Here Nate stood, going over to the shattered window. "Mr. Donovan can assist Madmoiselle Thuron in the galley. I want you watching Lieutenant Thompson. If she does anything more to threaten this ship, I want to hear about it. But make no moves for now. I want no trouble on the Acheron" Turning back towards Carrington Nate nodded towards the door. "You can go. I want to think for a while."
Carrington noted the sudden change from old friend to veteran captain and saluted smartly as he stood, recieveing his orders.
"It shall be done, Sir. I shall only make a move if anything threatens the Lady, or the crew itself... While I am thinkin' of it, Captain, do we 'ave a 'eadin' that I might plot out, or should I devote m'self to watching Miss Thompson?"
Nate scowled deeply. "Weren't you listening Mr. Carrington? I announced Sou-Sou-West. But I will tell you we are heading to Corunna, round Brittany then on to Spain. A short stop shall see us ready to sail the Atlantic." Pulling himself up to his full height, Nate assumed all his bearing of command. "Jump to it Mr. Carrington. I don't want to founder in a cross current in the Bay of Biscay. The French don't like us too much."
Carrington smiled in an almost sadistic light at Nathaniel answered his query. He knew damn well the order in which his captain, and friend wanted things done, but if he let his mind set to the things he desired at present, it wouldn't always work out quite so well in the future. After he had finished, Carrington snapped a final salute and headed out to find Mr. Franklin, and Mr. Donovan to inform them of their respective parts to play.