Chapter Twenty One
--
The Tempest was very much the way Hector had remembered her from when he'd been aboard her on the last run from Bristol with Wallace.
The trip was pleasant, if uneventful, and Hector, Cezar, and Turk, who had decided to return to England along with them, spent a good deal of time telling Murdock about all that had happened since Hector had left for the Oxford.
Murdock asked a lot of questions, and made polite conversation, but there was a wariness in his manner that Hector knew was from the fact that he was of the opinion that Morgan was a pirate, and he was concerned about his old friends keeping company so closely with the man.
The trip proved tedious for Hector, who found it dull, and he grew more and more anxious to make landfall the closer they got to Bristol. Cezar on the other hand, seem to become more settled as they neared the port, content with the notion that this was probably his last voyage, at least for quite some time.
Hector knew that Cezar had stayed longer than was probably necessary to look out for him, out of his own concern and feelings, as well as from a desire to keep Beryan's son from harm, and he was anxious to seem him finally be able to have some time with Beryan.
It was near sunset when Hector strode up the hill from town to his childhood home with Cezar and Turk following at a more leisurely pace. Hardly able to keep from running, and only doing so because Turk was with them, Hector strode up to the door of his mother's home and knocked gently.
"Coming." He could hear his mother's voice as she approached the door, and he found himself wearing a wide grin before she even managed to open it.
"Yes?" She asked, gazing up at the tall young man on her step for a heartbeat or two before realization set in. She let go a gasp, and her hand sprang to cover her mouth, even as the tears came to her eyes.
"Hector!" She whispered emotionally, and she threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. Neither said anything for several long moments, and finally Hector gently disengaged himself, and bent a little to kiss her cheek.
"There be someone else here," he said, stepping aside so that she could see where Cezar had been waiting respectfully for Beryan to finish greeting her son.
Beryan's tears came twice as hard, and she ran to throw her arms around Cezar, while Hector gave Turk a knowing smile.
Once Turk had been introduced, and they'd all gone inside the house, Beryan was beside herself. "I wish I'd known ye'd be home," she said, "I would've made a pie." She bustled about the kitchen putting together food for the three men, listening all the while to their adventures as she cooked.
There were several times over when Beryan would just stop what she was doing and go to Hector and place a hand on his shoulder, or kiss the top of his head. At one point she tugged at the plait he wore at the back of his head. "What is this?" She asked. "Yer hair be nearly as long as mine!"
Hector knew she was teasing him.
"And what is that, fer Pete's sake?" She asked, pointing at the alligator tooth. "It's horrible. Where did you ever get that?"
"Mother," Hector said, with mild exasperation, now that Turk was beginning to smirk at Beryan fussing over him like a mother hen. He gently caught up her hand that had been touching the earring, and the gasp she let go startled him.
"Hector!" She breathed sharply, and she caught up his wrist and drew back his sleeve to reveal the rest of the scar on his arm that she'd just caught a glimpse of. "What happened?"
Hector shot a questioning glance at Cezar, who nodded, and then went about telling Beryan about his brush with death. His story only served to increase the frequency with which she came over to smooth his hair, or run her fingers along his cheek, much to his chagrin.
As the evening passed, it became obvious to Hector that Cezar had been much more quiet than normal, and as he started to pay more attention the reason became obvious. Cezar was much too busy watching Beryan while she cooked or ate, or spoke to put much effort into conversation, and Hector smiled to himself, thinking he would have a bit of fun later giving his friend a hard time about it.
For the moment, he said nothing, and the thought suddenly occurred to him that as awkward as it still was for him to contemplate the matter, Cezar and his mother never had any time alone. When dinner was finished, Hector stood up and stretched and complimented his mother for the fourth time, thanking her with a kiss on the cheek as she began to clean up.
"Turk and I be off to the pub for a bit, if ye don't mind," Hector said suddenly, much to Turk's surprise.
"We are?" Turk asked.
"Aye, did I not tell ye The Golden Lion has the best ale in all of Cornwall?" Hector asked, grabbing Turk by the arm and dragging him out of his seat.
"I…." Was all Turk managed.
"We'll be off fer a while, Mother," Hector said, dragging Turk to the door. "I imagine we'll be out late. Very late I should think." He shot Cezar a brief smile and shoved Turk through the door, closing it behind him.
"Barbossa, what the hell are we doing?" Turk asked, following him down the path to the pub.
"Givin' them a little alone time, mate," Hector replied. "He hasn't seen her in three years."
"Ah," Turk replied as understanding of the situation dawned on him.
--
The fishermen of Padstow were a conservative, hard working, God-fearing lot, and when Hector and Turk, two apparent strangers adorned with swords and earrings showed up in the Golden Lion, they earned themselves a lot of hard stares from the fishermen that were out sharing a friendly pint.
Hector and Turk sat together at a table near a window, as there was only one way in and out of the pub. The spirit of camaraderie that had pervaded the tavern with lively conversation had departed when the two men sat down, and the others in the tavern regarded them suspiciously as the barkeep eyed them warily and set two pints on the table in front of them.
"Thankee, sir," Hector said, glancing around the room at the stares that were watching him take a sip from his pint.
"Well, this is a friendly lot," Turk said quietly, taking a pull from his own mug. "Why are they staring at us?"
"'Tis likely they've not seen an ox as great as yerself before," Hector replied smartly.
Turk set his drink down. "More'n likely they're fascinated with that pretty hair of yers, and that lovely trinket in yer ear."
"Lovely trinket?" Hector asked, frowning a little.
"Aye. Sweet little bit of shine- sets off yer eyes, Barbossa," Turk said, trying to keep a straight face.
"Sets off me eyes?" Hector asked indignantly. "This be a gift from Morgan hisself, ye know that well."
"Aye," Turk replied, looking into his drink as he spoke, "maybe Morgan fancies yeh if he's giving yeh jewelry now."
He had all he could do not to laugh as he harassed Hector. He had no doubt that Hector heartily preferred women, but the look on his friend's face was priceless after what he'd insinuated.
Hector's voice grew dangerous. "Now, ye be insultin' me and Morgan," he whispered angrily. "Take back what ye said."
Turk ignored his demand, having too much fun at that point to quit. "I've noticed that yeh've spent a lot of time alone with the captain in his cabin," he continued. "Yeh fancy the spot of cabin boy as much as that of quartermaster, aye?"
Hector was becoming incensed. "Cabin boy? Ye know that Morgan has spent time sharin' strategy and navigation with me! Ye dare imply ought else?" Hector stood up abruptly.
"I'll bet Morgan taught yeh how to navigate," Turk said, unable to hold back his laughter any longer.
Hector found Turk's comment to be the final straw, and his fist collided with Turk's jaw, snapping his head back, and causing Hector to hop around hanging onto his smarting hand.
Turk was angry at being struck, and stood up out of his chair. "Yeh dim-witted cockerel!" He roared, wiping the blood from his mouth. "Now yeh've gone an' bloodied me!"
"And I'll bloody ye again," Hector cried, feigning a left jab and landing another right hook across Turk's jaw. "Take back what ye said!"
Turk saw red and Hector found himself suddenly on his rump, sitting dazed in the middle of the tavern floor after being clocked by his friend's large fist. "Merda," he croaked, trying to figure out which way was up.
He managed to climb unsteadily to his feet, and face the angry Turk. He struggled to draw his sword and pointed it at Turk's chest.
"Oh, is that how it is?" Turk asked irately. "Going to carve yehself a little piece of me fer another souvenir? Mebbe hang it around yer neck?"
"I plan on cuttin' out yer heart fer a large souvenir," Hector snarled. "If I wanted a little piece of you I'd aim a lot lower."
The only thing that kept Turk from tackling Hector to the floor and pummeling the snot out of him was the blade Hector held in his hand. "Yeh bloody friggin' rooster! Yeh better hope I don't get past that blade!"
"Rooster ye call me?" Hector asked indignantly.
"Aye," Turk snarled. "And rightly too, the way yeh strut around especially if there's a hen or two about."
Hector stared Turk down for another minute and then suddenly began laughing at himself and the situation.
"W' the fuck you laughin' at, Barbossa?" Turk asked.
Hector put the sword away. "You and me, my friend," he said offering his hand.
Turk looked at the hand Hector proffered for a moment, and then grasped it with his own. "Aye, we're a right pair of idiots, aren't we?" He said, now laughing as well.
"Excuse me, lads," the barkeep said, having been elected by the group of wide-eyed patrons that had witnessed the fight, "did ye say Barbossa?"
"Aye," Hector said, "that he did. Hector Barbossa I be."
"I didn't recognize ye, lad," the barkeep said. "None of us did." He indicated the group of fishermen that were gathering around the table.
"Aye, well it's been seven years since I left," Hector replied.
It ended up that Hector and Turk were indeed out very late at the pub once the locals had discovered that Hector was a son of Padstow. Many of them remembered the boy who had helped on the docks years before, and bought the two friends round after round as Hector regaled them with stories of his adventures in the Caribbean.
At some point in the wee hours of the morning, Hector and Turk managed to weave and stagger their way up the hill that led home. Turk was still singing a song he'd started in the pub, and broke into a loud rendition of the chorus.
"Shhhhhh!" Hector shushed him loudly. "Yer singin' loud enough to wake the dead, never mind me mother!"
Turk sniggered. "'Tisaserenade," he slurred, weaving to his left unsteadily.
"What?" Hector asked, trying his best to keep Turk in focus.
"Serenade, Barbossa!" Turk repeated loudly. "'Tisaserenade fer yer mum." He then broke back into the chorus of the song he'd been mutilating.
"Yer singin'sounds like ye've run over a cat's tail with a horse and cart," Hector said, and then started laughing at himself. "Or maybe an ox cart, and ye'd be the great bloody ox!" He staggered and fell on his rump and sat there in the front yard laughing.
"Yeah, well betteranox than a puffffed… a puffffed up pigeon," Turk replied, weaving his way over to where Hector had landed and lowering himself with a thud to sit next to him.
"Pigeon, ye say?" Hector asked, now wiping the tears from his laughter away.
"Aye, pigeon," Turk replied. "Always struttin' and swaggerin' about an showin' off with that sword of yers."
Hector grinned at his companion. "Well, 'twere a good thing I swaggered into Casablanca and chose to show off with me blade," he replied.
Turk nodded and clapped Hector on the shoulder, a little too enthusiastically, nearly knocking him over. "Aye, that it was, Barbossa. That it was. I've not seen anythin' like what ye did to those men in all my years," he said. "Remind me not to find myself at the wrong end of yer sword."
Hector had lain back on the ground and was watching the early morning stars. "I should doubt that ye and I will ever be on opposite sides of a blade, mate."
Turk grinned at him and flopped back on the ground next to him with his hands behind his head. "I'll wager yer right, Barbossa."
Cezar found Turk and Hector snoring on the ground in the front yard just after dawn, and he managed to rouse them before Beryan caught sight of her son sleeping off a bender in the grass.
"You two are quite the sight, this morning," Cezar said as he stood over them with his arms folded across his chest, smirking.
"It were Barbossa's fault," Turk said after sitting up with a groan. "Spent the evenin' tellin' tales an' showin' off fer all of the pub."
"My fault?" Hector asked climbing wearily to his feet. "Remember 'twas ye who started matchin' old Hodgeman pint fer pint, an' no one holdin' a gun to yer head."
"Aye, well my head feels like someone took a gun to it now," Turk replied, holding his head in his hands.
--
Hector walked with Beryan after breakfast up into the orchard to the point where they could look out over the ocean in the distance, and they stood together for a while, conversing while she hung affectionately on his arm.
"Hector," she finally said, after a few moments of companionable silence, "there's somethin' I would say to ye concernin' Cezar."
Hector glanced down where she stood at his side and smiled warmly at her. "So, he's asked you, then?"
Beryan smiled back at her son, knowing that he already knew what she'd been about to say. She nodded.
"Ye said yes, I hope?" Hector teased her.
Beryan blushed a little and smiled still, nodding once more.
"Good, then I shouldn't worry so much about ye," Hector replied, pulling her into a warm hug.
"But I shall worry more about you," she said, meaning that she knew Cezar would no longer look out for him.
"Ye needn't worry, mother," he said in reply. "I can look out for mesself."
Beryan hugged him tighter and then let go. "I know ye can, Hector. But I'm your mother," she said, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek, "I'll always worry about you."
--
By the end of two weeks, although he loved being home and visiting with his mother, Hector was growing restless and knew that it was time to head back to Bristol and see about passage back to Jamaica.
The morning he and Turk were going to leave, he walked with Cezar to the same spot he'd spoken with his mother at.
"There be somethin' that I would say, before I leave," Hector said, watching a ship far off in the distance. He glanced at Cezar for a moment and then back out to sea. "I've not said thanks nearly enough….." he broke off, suddenly finding himself unable to speak.
Cezar place a hand affectionately on Hector's shoulder, knowing the young man was struggling with as much emotion as he was. "There is no need," he said gently."
"Aye, there is," Hector finally continued. "Ye've looked after me the best ye could fer seven years, and I've no way to repay ye fer that."
"Your friendship is payment enough, Hector. It has meant a great deal to me," Cezar said, finding himself growing emotional as well.
"Ye've been a good friend, and more to me, Cezar," Hector said hoarsely, trying to keep his voice from breaking.
"And you more than a friend to me, Patife," Cezar said, taking Hector firmly by the shoulders. He smiled warmly at Hector and then pulled the younger man into a tight embrace. "Você foi-me um filho e meu grande tesouro."
The tears that came unbidden surprised Hector, and he struggled to keep them in check as he hugged Cezar back fiercely for a moment. "Ye'll look after her, won't ye, Cezar?" He whispered, not knowing what else to say.
"Aye, lad. Always," Cezar said. He clapped Hector once on the shoulder and then let him go.
Hector cleared his throat, and roughly wiped an eye with the back of his hand, and looked at Cezar with a grin. "'Tis time to go," he said.
Cezar nodded and walked him back to the house, where he said a tearful and emotional goodbye to Beryan before heading down the hill with Turk.
The day Hector left would be the last time he ever embraced his mother, twenty years to the day from when she first held him in her arms.
--
A/N: Cezar says to Hector, in Portuguese, of course –'You have been a son to me and my greatest treasure.'
The Golden Lion is an actual well-know pub in Padstow. Famous location of the start of the 'Obby 'Oss celebration that takes place there every year on guess what? May first. ;)