Pirate Blood. Eugenio Pochini

perfect, Excellency”, he claimed.

      “Let’s hurry up, then.” Morgan walked out of the room, turning down the large entrance staircase. “This damned doublet is choking us to death.”

      ***

      Johnny started coughing again as soon as he got out of the inn. After his misadventure with the rum, Bartolomeu had suggested him to have a sip of hydromel, saying it would help him.

      It hadn’t been like that. He ran behind a lane, kneeled down and crossed his arms on his chest. Then he threw up. The sour taste of his gastric juices blurred his eyes, making the outlines vague. He had to wait in that pose for some minutes, before he could get up.

      “How disgusting”, he panted, while he plodded along the lane.

      “Get out of my feet!”

      The powerful voice of a soldier was shouting at him. Together with his brothers-in-arms, he was guarding a person’s lifeless corpse. One of them had grasped him under his armpits and was dragging him along the street, in the stillness of that torrid morning.

       There’s something different here. That thought rose spontaneously in his mind, even if he wasn’t just referring to the sight of the corpse, but to the absence of the usual crowd blocking the main street. On the contrary, he got still more surprised when the tradesmen shut up their stalls and swarmed to the harbour.

      Even the prostitutes had disappeared.

      “Of course!”, he exclaimed. He called out one of the guards, who had kept back from the others. “Has the execution already started?”

      The soldier was puzzled, as if he didn’t understand what he wanted from him.

      “Not yet”, he finally answered. “If you hurry up…”

      Johnny couldn’t hear the rest of his words. He was already running breathlessly, following the stream of people flowing to the location of the event.

      ***

      Once he got into his carriage, Morgan felt puzzled in finding Rogers sitting comfortably among the quilted cushions covering the seats. He looked calm, without any hint of anxiety. And it was just that self-confidence which made Morgan nervous.

      “What are you doing here?”, he asked, without being able to hide his dislike.

      “I thought you would like a bit of company”, the pirate answered.

      “You are presuming too much, captain.”

      “Come on. Don’t be stiff. It’s you who dragged me into this matter, after all.”

      Morgan claimed his right not to reply. There were just a few things which could annoy him in his life. One of them was sitting just in front of him. Nobody had ever dared make fun of him so openly.

      “How are you going to behave?”, he asked Rogers.

      “It won’t be an easy task”, he explained. “The map has no landmarks. We will have to sail blindly.”

      “We are sure you’ll get through.”

      Rogers shrugged, as if he wanted to show that he didn’t care at all about that matter. Since they had left, he hadn’t stopped looking out of the window even for a single moment.

      The governor for his part was immersed into the deep estimation that Port Royal was certainly a wealthy colony, even if that wasn’t enough to make it pleasant. And the area they were going through proved it. The streets turned into narrow lanes stuffed with dirt. The buildings, leaning on each other, were very badly made. Even the colonizers had something wrong. In spite of that, being a greedy and opportunistic man, he had understood he could exploit the town according to his wishes. By the way, which were the differences between a pirate and a politician?

      “We are sailing in a few days”, Rogers suddenly stated. “The crew has to arrange the last preparations. I haven’t given them much information about the journey yet.”

      “The fewer people are going to get involved, the better for us.”

      “However, I won’t be able to keep the crew forever in the dark about what we are going to do. I could risk a mutiny.”

      “You aren’t risking anything, captain”, Morgan replied. “Even in that case, you would get the money we agreed on anyway, together with the new letter of marque.”

      “Aren’t Wynne’s ravings scaring you?”

      “Absolutely not.”

      “Why?”

      “If that was just a crazy man’s raving, we still would have nothing to lose.” The governor wiped an invisible crumble of dust away from his doublet. “Father Mckenzie must be confessing the prisoner at the moment. For what it’s worth.”

      “We are all sinners”, the corsair sentenced.

      “This is a cynical and cruel world. You should know it better than us. We didn’t think you were a moralist. Do you have any Puritan ancestry?”

      “My ancestries aren’t important.”

      “So, what is the reason for this sudden moralizing lecture?”, Morgan cut it short. “ Monsieur Wynne can send his filthy soul back to his Creator without any ceremony more. We have gotten what we wanted to know. If many people come to the gathering, better for us, so we will be able to grip the population. They are going to understand that nobody can escape God’s judgment.”

      The pirate mumbled in agreement without any enthusiasm.

      “Wynne’s hanging will be an unforgettable event.”

      After that last consideration, Morgan waited for them to get to Port Royal.

      ***

      The square was divided into two parts: the lower area, where the people were crowding, and a higher one, where the gallows had been erected. They communicated with each other by some stone stairs, guarded by dozens of soldiers. Around that area some cabins had been built, serving both as lodgings and as warehouses for weapons and ammunition. Several communication trenches connected the main body of the fortress to the ramparts and each of them had its own cannon battery. The south walls overlooked the sea instead. The donjon stood there.

      As soon as Johnny walked through the gates, he plunged into a confused and messy crowd. He had at first the unpleasant feeling of having got lost, of being absolutely out of place in such a disarming spot.

      From where he was standing, he could hardly see the gallows. He had to find a way to get closer. Luck came to his rescue as soon as the governor’s carriage arrived. The crowd was forced to part, so he took advantage of that and slipped as close as possible. He could do it without any trouble. Then a hand grasped his shoulder. He swallowed hard, fearing someone had it in for him. A soldier might have disliked what he had done. He took ages to turn round.

      “What are you doing here?”, Avery addressed him, taking him by surprise.

      “You really frightened me”, he replied bewildered. “I thought you were one of the guards!”

      The old man burst out laughing, showing the few teeth he still had. “Do you have a guilty conscience by chance? Are you afraid of ending up over there?” and he lifted his hand lazily in front of himself.

      Following his knotty finger, Johnny was bewildered by the simplicity of the structure the soldiers had built: a cross beam, supported by a post where a solid slipknot was hanging from. Everything was placed on an elevated stage, more than three meters high, which could be reached by a stair.

      “Have you seen many people go to the gallows?”, he asked.

      “Oh, yes, I have.” Avery’s features got wrinkled and his eyes turned unusually blank. “These people don’t care about the prisoner, only about the sound of his neck breaking. Experience has taught me to be indifferent. You are going to learn this lesson too in time.”

      John