Page 19 of Blow Me Down
“Er…”
“It means become a pirate,” Suky explained, topping off Bart’s grog.
“Oh, become an officer in your crew? Okay. Sounds good to me. Only… what are the qualifications? I haven’t done too much sailing, although I did go to Catalina once. That was on a ship. Boat. Whichever.”
Bart smiled. “ ‘Tis more of an indoctrination than qualifications, really…”
“Ah?” I asked, starting to get worried as his smile grew larger and amusement danced in his pale blue eyes.
“Aye, lass, and a simple one for someone as fierce as yerself. All we ask is that ye take care of a pest that’s been plaguin‘ our fair paradise.”
“A pest?” I asked suspiciously. “It’s not a rodent, is it? Because I have a thing about rats—”
“That’s as good a name as any.” Bart laughed. “The rat’s name be Black Corbin, and all ye have to do to join me crew is to kill him.”
Chapter 5
You may go, for you’re at liberty, our pirate rulesprotect you,
And honorary members of our band we do elect you!
—Ibid, Act I
“It’s not happening,” I told Bart as I stumbled behind him up the patchily cobblestoned main street that led from the town up to where the governor’s house sat on a bluff overlooking the harbor.
“It wouldn’t be hard for ye, lass. Not if ye’ve beaten Corbin already. The next time, ye just slide yer blade into his neck rather than lightenin‘ him of a sloop.”
“It is not happening,” I repeated, glancing a bit nervously at the four men following us. The big guy named Pangloss had remained at Renata’s house, having disappeared into a back room with Jez, but the rest of Bart’s men, so hastily introduced that I didn’t catch any of their names, were a tough-looking lot. Theylookedlike pirates, all sneers and scars and unshaved beards and patched clothing, and a virtual arsenal of swords and firearms strapped to their persons.
“ ‘Twould be a simple act,” Bart argued, pausing a moment to grab my arm as I stumbled over a loose cobblestone.
“No.”
“Just a wee slip of yer sword—”
“No! I am not killing anyone!” Bart and the men all stopped and stared at me. I realized that I had made a major gaffe in a game whose entire social structure was built upon bloodthirsty pirates. Not only that, but I may well have blown my chance to join their crew and advance to the point where I could get the hell out of Dodge. So to speak. “That is, I’m not killing anyonetonight. Arr!”
“Yarr!” Bart’s men answered in a snarling cheer.
I grinned at them and tried to look murderous before hurrying to catch up to Bart, where I could speak to him without his men overhearing. “Look, Bart, it’s not that I don’t want to be part of your crew, but murder is wrong. Morally and ethically wrong. Even in a game it’s wrong. I was never one for shoot-‘em-up-type games.”
“This be not murder, lass. It be eradication of a pest. Black Corbin and his scurvy lot of lubbers want to destroy Turtle’s Back. They swore to fire the town and run out every last soul as resides here. He’s like a plague, wantin‘ to wipe out every livin’ thing so he can take over as governor.”
My mouth opened and closed a couple of times as I tried to think of something to say. “Are you sure?” was what finally emerged. “That doesn’t sound like the guy I met. He was a bit arrogant, sure, but all the men here are arrogant. I think the programmer wrote them that way on purpose.”
Bart paused before the main entrance to a big house that loomed up in the darkness. The flames from torches on either side of the doors flickered and danced wildly in the steady breeze that swept up the cliff from the ocean. “I’m not mistaken about Black Corbin, lass. He’s as murderous a rogue as ever ye’ve clapped eyes on. Someday I’ll tell ye the full list of our grievances against him, but until then ye’ll just have to trust that he’s the devil’s own son.”
“Hmm.” I entered the house when he waved me in, mulling over the conflicting opinions about Corbin. Granted I had only just met the man, but was my judgment of people really so off that I could be fooled that easily?
“Go into me library and we’ll get ye into the crew,” Bart said, gesturing toward a room that led off a large, dark hall. “In a probationary capacity only, ye ken,”
he added when I looked hopeful.
“Ah. Yes.” I went into a small, cozy room lit by a dozen beeswax candles and a small fire in the fireplace, and spent a moment in admiration of the game’s artistic qualities. Everything from the polished mahogany desk that lurked in the corner to the brightly shining brass candelabrum on the mantelpiece, the long, linen curtains that gently swayed in the breeze from the open windows, right down to the coal scuttle and twisted spills used to light the fire were authentic. As ran my hand along the spines of books in a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, I realized with a start just how comfortable I was in this world.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” I told myself, glancing out the opened door to where Bart stood in the hall giving orders to his men. “You are not getting used to this place! It’s not real. You have a daughter and a home and a real life. Think, Amy, think—there’s got to be a way out of here other than killing someone.”
I was still desperately trying to come up with another solution when Bart entered the room, followed by one of his men. He thrust a foil and scabbard at me.
