A/N: Niko, thanks so much for such a lovely review! I hope you enjoy where the story heads!
Chapter Thirty-Five
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"Get over there, then," Turk encouraged him. "Saw 'er glance at yeh a couple of times while she was over here, mate. Prob'ly fancies yeh because yer the one as shot De Saldanha."
Harlow seemed to perk up at the thought. "Think so?" he asked, glancing with optimism at the comely barmaid.
"I'd bet on it," Turk said solemnly.
Harlow seemed to consider the situation for a moment, and then taking a draught from his mug to fortify himself, stood and crossed the room to where the serving girl was picking up more drinks at the bar.
"She never spared a single look at 'im," Hector said, as he watched his companion make his way between tables.
"I know," Turk said with a grin, and he downed the rest of Harlow's drink while he was gone and set the mug back on the table with a satisfied thump.
--
The Faithful Bride was crowded and lively by the time Starkey and Roberts joined Barbossa and Turk at the table they'd claimed, and immediately they asked where Harlow had gone.
"He's tryin' to make time with that little blonde wench," Turk informed them, jerking his head over his shoulder at where Harlow was leaning causally against the bar, conversing with the woman.
"Who, Meredith?" Starkey asked, flagging down another serving girl and holding up two fingers to indicate they needed two more drinks for Roberts and himself. "I'm not sure that's such a brilliant idea, mate."
"Why's that?" Barbossa asked, glancing once at where Thomas had actually made the fetching waitress smile.
"She's taken," Starkey replied, taking a sip from the mug just placed in front of him. "Bloke named O'Reilly, I think."
"O'Reilly, as in 'Mad Dog O'Reilly'?" Turk asked, recognizing the name of one of Tortuga's colorful inhabitants.
"Who's Mad Dog O'Reilly?" Barbossa asked, from where he had his feet propped up on Harlow's empty chair.
Starkey took another long pull from his mug before answering. "Blacksmith," he said, dragging the back of his arm across his mouth. "Bloke's supposed to have a raging temper and a very short fuse. They say he killed a man one night just 'cause he thought the poor bugger looked at him kinda funny."
Turk glanced at where the petite blonde was laughing again, and had touched Harlow's arm briefly. "Huh. She doesn't seem the type to go fer a fella like that."
"Well, that's the thing," Starkey explained. "It's not really her idea at all. I heard that Mad Dog has staked a claim on her, and she's stuck with him beating the bloody snot outta anyone who even looks at her twice."
No one at the table said anything else as Harlow arrived with another drink and a broad grin on his face. Barbossa dropped his feet off Harlow's chair, but before he could even sit down, Turk spoke up.
"Bloody hell, would yeh look at that," Turk said in awe. "She's callin' yeh back to the bar, mate."
Harlow glanced back at the bar in time to see Meredith smile at him, and he placed his drink on the table and went quickly back to where he thought she'd beckoned to him.
Turk gave Hector a devious smile, and then downed Harlow's drink again.
"He'll have somethin' to say about that," Barbossa said with a grin, tending to his own drink.
Turk waved him off. "Nah, his mind's on other things. I bet he don't even notice."
Sure enough, once Harlow arrived back at the table again, he looked a bit puzzled, but not yet suspicious. "Did I bring a drink back with me?"
Four heads shook in reply, and all four companions laughed as Harlow went once more to fetch another ale for himself.
While Harlow was yet again preoccupied with the comely blonde Meredith, two rugged and seasoned looking sailors approached the table.
"You Barbossa?" the shorter of the two asked.
"Aye," Hector replied disinterestedly, "and what of it?"
The shorter of the pair spoke up again. "We hear you're lookin' for a crew."
Barbossa shrugged. "I might be. Who wants to know?"
"Two of the best gunners this side of the Atlantic," the gruff-looking pirate answered. "Name's Cook, and this here's Durgin." He jerked his head at his taller companion. "We're wonderin' if a fresh young pirate like yourself could possibly be worth our time."
Turk, irritated by the snide comment, stood and drew himself up to his full height. "Well, I'll tell yeh. This here's Hector Barbossa, and he's more pirate at twenty-five than the two of yeh put together. He's the best swordsman this side of the Atlantic, commands the fastest ship this side of the Atlantic, and captains the toughest, fiercest, hardest working, hardest drinking lot of sons of bitches this side of the Atlantic."
He folded his arms across his broad chest. "My name's Turk, and either of yeh frilly little flowers have anythin' else to say that my captain don't like, I'll bloody well kick both yer arses back across the fuckin' Atlantic."
Durgin suddenly grinned down at Cook, who smile back. "Told ya they'd be worth our time."
Once they saw Turk's expression relax and the large bo'sun sat back down, the two newcomers pulled chairs up to the table. "We hear that the Company has four thousand guineas on your head," Cook said, addressing Hector.
"Get in line if ye'd be thinkin' of turnin' me in for the reward," Barbossa said back calmly, taking a casual sip from his tankard.
Cook shook his head. "Nah. See the thing of it is, we each have a special place in our hearts for those Becketts, seein' as how they impounded my ship for some bullshit reasons to confiscate my cargo and sell it for a profit themselves, and seein' as how Durgin's brother ended up dancin' a jig that needed no floor because of them…"
Durgin nodded grimly. "Aye, we're looking for a captain that carries the same love in his heart, and we heard you might be that man, Barbossa."
"Ye heard true," Barbossa said as Harlow arrived back at the table with another mug, only to have Barbossa take it from him, pass it to Durgin and indicate that Harlow should fetch another for Cook. "Me crew takes great pleasure in paying careful and particular attention to any ships flyin' the Company flag." Harlow scowled and stomped off to fetch another ale for Cook and one again for himself.
Hector went on to explain to Cook and Durgin what the terms would be for anyone who joined his crew, and mutually satisfied that sailing together seemed agreeable, it was decided that they would join the crew, bringing the number on board the Wicked Wench to thirty-seven.
Harlow once again made it to the table, carrying two mugs of ale. Hector took one and slid it across to Cook, and then handed his own empty mug to Thomas and relieved him of the second full one, causing Harlow's mouth to drop open in indignant disbelief.
Knowing better than to protest in front of pirates that Hector was obviously interviewing, Harlow bit his tongue and trudged off to the bar again, muttering under his breath about first mates being unappreciated.
"We heard you offed DeSaldanha," Durgin said, making conversation with his new captain.
"Nay," Barbossa replied, despite the fact that he wore a sly grin. "Fer certain I bested him in the duel, but Harlow there, were the one as shot him when the bastard tried to shoot me."
When Harlow returned to the table once more, it was with a large serving tray laden with mugs of ale, and he placed it in the center, figuring to save himself another trip to the bar anytime soon.
Turk grinned up at him and swapped out an empty tankard for a full one. "Well, don't yeh just make a sweet little barmaid, Thomas," he said, laughing and causing Harlow to look extremely irritated. "Seein' yeh cartin' around all that ale almost makes me want to pinch yer arse."
Harlow smirked at him and finally took a full mug. "Seems to me mine isn't the only bloke's arse you can't keep your hands off, Theodore."
The grin Turk had been wearing disappeared immediately, and was replaced with in intimidating dark scowl. "Shut yer trap, Harlow," he snarled, while Thomas shared an amused look with Barbossa, Starkey and Roberts.
Hector laughed heartily before holding a hand up in a restraining gesture at Turk. "Easy, we'll be needin' our first mate soon enough, Master Turk," he said, still grinning. "'Tis well know yer preference be solidly in favor of fondlin' a feminine backside when ye've had a bit too much to drink."
Pacified by Barbossa's comment, Turk settled for shooting Harlow on last dirty look and settled back in his chair with his mug.
Half an hour of conversation between the four companions and the two new recruits later, Harlow sheepishly volunteered to go and get the next round, and disappeared once more with an excuse to speak with Meredith.
Turk glanced at where he was once again making the fetching barmaid laugh as she stocked the empty tray with full mugs for Harlow. "I'll be buggered if Harlow doesn't wake up next to that sweet little thing by the time we finish out the week here," he said, but suddenly his expression sobered. "Oh, fuck."
"What, did she slap him or something?" Starkey asked, smirking over the top of his drink.
Turk shook his head, and nodded in the direction of where a large, sweaty and muscular man wearing a ferrier's leather apron still was storming across the room.
Barbossa glanced at the obviously outraged blacksmith, and then back at Turk. "Mad Dog?" he asked, receiving a confirmatory nod from Turk. "Ah, then we'd best see to Harlow." He made as if to stand, but Turk held up a staying hand.
"I'll handle it," Turk said with a grin, and he stood and headed for the bar, where Mad Dog had just grabbed Harlow by the shoulder and spun him around at the same time that Meredith let out a small cry of alarm.
Harlow, caught off guard and considerably smaller in stature than the irate O'Reilly, had time to do little else but cringe when the blacksmith drew back an enormous fist and swung at him. Knowing the impact was likely going to rearrange his face, he braced himself for the explosive pain and sickening crunch of his nose being smashed into his skull.
After three or four heartbeats the anticipated blow didn't arrive, and he opened one eye to see that Turk had grabbed O' Reilly's drawn back arm.
"I wouldn't," Turk snarled quietly at O'Reilly, who didn't let go of Harlow, but whipped his head around to face his own assailant. Broad and muscular from long hours working at the forge, O'Reilly still had to shift his gaze up an inch or so to meet Turk's stare.
Undaunted by Turk's height advantage and still irrationally infuriated by Harlow's apparent flirting with Meredith, Mad Dog let go of Harlow and dropped his shoulder, plowing backwards into Turk and knocking him off balance. Turk staggered back a step or two, still hanging onto O'Reilly's arm to keep his balance, but he managed to collide with a pirate passing behind the argument, causing him to spill rum all over himself.
Angered by the loss of his beverage and already heavily inebriated, the wet pirate charged Turk, forcing him to let go of Mad Dog while he blocked the punch thrown at him with his left hand, and then clobbered the rum-soaked pirate with his right, sending him sprawling into the midst of a card game at the closest table as Mad Dog grabbed Harlow once more.
A cry of outrage went up from the card playing pirates as cards and drinks were scattered, and the six of them stood abruptly; half of them grabbing up the pirate sprawled on their table and the other half charging Turk, who had grabbed O'Reilly by the shoulders.
Once again, Turk yanked Mad Dog off Harlow, pulling him back and tossing him aside and into the group of the three angry card players, sending Mad Dog and two of them to the floor, while the third jumped out of the way and collided with a passing barmaid, toppling her and her heavily laden tray of drinks onto another table.
More angry wet pirates jumped up from their table, and the fight that ensued quickly spread across the room like a tidal wave, sweeping up everyone and everything in its path.
Hector took an unhurried swig from his drink as a full mug of ale sailed past his head and slammed into the side of the face of a drunk at the next table, toppling him from his already precarious perch on his chair. A heavy ownerless boot suddenly crashed into the middle of the table, and Barbossa shared a mildly surprised look with Starkey, Roberts, Cook and Durgin.
"I suppose I ought to sort them out," he said casually, jerking his head in the direction of where Turk and now Harlow were trading blows in the scuffle with Mad Dog and the card playing pirates. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood, hand on his sword, just in time to have a very large, buxom wench stagger his way out of the mayhem.
Realizing that with her hefty weight she might knock him back onto the table, Hector threw out his hands to brace himself for the collision, inadvertently and unavoidably groping her very ample bosom in the process. Saved from sprawling in an undignified way on top of Hector, the large woman wasted no time in landing a resounding slap across his face, to the amusement of his companions.
Slightly inebriated himself, Hector was irritated enough to return the gesture, landing a light but stinging slap across a large rouged cheek, then earning himself a fierce right hook from the infuriated large woman.
Completely surprised that a woman had hit him with such ferocity, Hector didn't duck her second punch in time, and her meaty knuckles laden with rings collided once more with his jaw, staggering him into the nearby group of drunks who were already at odds and exchanging blows. The four of them were met by Barbossa's four crewmen, who had all sprung to their feet before anyone could land a punch on Hector.
He managed to duck out of the middle of that section of the widespread fight in time to see that Turk's three former card players were keeping him busy in an unsuccessful attempt to subdue the large pirate, who had one in a headlock, choking him mercilessly. A second he had grabbed by a fistful of hair, and was slamming his face into the top of the bar, while the third had an arm around his own neck in a futile bid to rescue his companions.
Harlow, already bruised and battered with a swelling eye, had managed to bloody Mad Dog's lip and knock out a tooth before the large blacksmith had managed to grab hold of him and bodily pick him up and slam him onto the bar.
Hector could see that Mad Dog had gone for a knife in his belt as he pinned Harlow by the throat, choking him while Meredith beat futilely at him with her fists. Knowing he'd never get though the sea of drunken combatants in time, he tore himself from the crowd around him, springing onto a chair and then a table nearby as he drew his sword. He ran, leaping across the next three tables and landing on the bar as O'Reilly's blade flashed toward Harlow's face. Sword met dagger an inch from Harlow's eyes, and Hector kicked Mad Dog in the face, causing him to stagger back and let go of Harlow.
"Thanks," Harlow croaked up at where Hector was standing over him, and he rolled off the bar and behind it as Mad Dog charged them again. He threw a bottle he had grabbed off the closest table at Hector, causing him to turn aside and take the blow on his shoulder, and Mad Dog grabbed an ankle and yanked before he could regain his balance, sending him crashing to the bar, the impact jarring his sword out of his hand.
Nearby, Turk, seeing his captain in serious trouble, roared and shrugged off the three pirates he was battling with a tremendous effort. He charged to where Hector was struggling to keep the dagger Mad Dog was shoving at him from cutting into his throat, grabbing up a chair along the way and swinging it fiercely at the blacksmith.
Large chunks of chair flew as the impact with O'Reilly's back shattered it, and he staggered, almost collapsing. Turk lunged for him as Hector scrambled out of the range of the dagger, but both gestures were unnecessary as Mad Dog finally was overcome with the bottle of rum smashed across his skull by Meredith.
"Thank yeh, love," Turk said, flashing a brief grin at her before being assailed once more by the three pirates he'd been battling a moment before. Hector threw himself off the bar to tackle the nearest one, and quickly the fight escalated further as the other three card players joined their comrades in the fight against Turk and Barbossa.
Another four of the of the cardplayers' shipmates, who were drinking in the Bride, joined in, and with a tremendous effort, six of them managed to subdue Turk, despite the fact that it took them several minutes. Hector, armed only with his fists, managed to bloody several of the remaining four, before being bodily dragged down and picked up.
Cursing and struggling wildly, Turk was still outnumbered enough by six rugged pirates that he was unable to get free, and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back in the dust outside the door of the Bride, trying to catch his breath where they'd thrown him.
Thirty seconds later, he heard the shout of 'three!' and Barbossa crashed through the window, landing next to him in the street amid a shower of wood and glass fragments after being heaved out of the bar himself.
Both lay there in the street for a long moment, trying to catch their breath while the sounds of shouting and breaking glass continued inside.
Turk rolled his head to look at Hector next to him, who was lying there with his eyes closed. "Yeh alright?"
"Aye," came the quiet reply, and then Hector began laughing. "You?" he managed.
"Aye, I reckon," Turk said, beginning to chuckle in the dust. "Yeh think we should go back in after Harlow?"
Hector shook his head. "Harlow snuck out the back with Meredith right after she dropped O'Reilly with that bottle. I reckon we shouldn't expect him until mornin'."
Turk grinned and climbed to his feet with a groan and then scrutinized Hector's face as he offered his hand down to pull his captain to his feet. "Who the fuck bloodied yer mouth like that, Barbossa?"
Hector wiped the blood from his chin, frowning at the sight of it. "That sow of a wench in there," he admitted reluctantly.
Turk roared. "A lady hit yeh and did that?"
"Pipe down, ye great blood ox!" Barbossa snapped, looking around to make sure no one had heard.
"Sorry," Turk said, still sniggering. "Looks like she got yeh good."
"Twice," Hector admitted.
Starkey approached with Roberts, Cook and Durgin as they emerged from the chaos in the Faithful Bride. "Here you go, Cap'n," he said, handing over the sword he'd retrieved from where Hector had dropped it near the bar.
"Thankee kindly, Master Starkey," Hector said, hanging it at his hip. "What say ye to waitin' fer Harlow on board the ship? I believe we have a fair enough supply of fine rum fer the rest of the evenin'."
All of the others readily agreed that it would be best to leave the vicinity of the Bride, and they made their way back to the Wicked Wench.
Laughing and joking about the events in the tavern, Hector and the others managed to climb aboard the ship, heading for the cabin to do a bit more drinking. In the middle of placing bets with Turk as to whether or not Harlow came back to the ship that evening or in the morning, both drew up abruptly as they entered the cabin and were greeted with a round of pistol hammers being cocked.
Instantly sober, it took them only a moment to see that seven armed pirates had been waiting for them just inside the door, accompanied by one more who sat at the captain's table.
"Evenin', gentlemen," the last one spoke, and Hector's blood ran cold when he recognized that it was Hawkeye Hartwell sitting in his chair.