Passage to St. Kitts
Chapter 4
Shortly before dawn, Will rose and slipped quietly out of bed. Dressing quickly in a simple pair of breeches and a shirt, he picked up his waistcoat, coat and boots before slipping out the door. If Elizabeth woke up she'd argue with him again, and he didn't need the distraction. He made his way through the still dark house to the kitchen. There he was not surprised to find the cook already awake, with a cup of coffee and a biscuit waiting for him. Telling the stable boy he'd need his horse ready this early was the same as making a general announcement to the household that he was fighting this morning. "Bless you, Mrs. Lowry," he said gratefully as he took a swallow of the hot brew before struggling into his waistcoat and coat.
"Well, you be careful this morning, Master Will," said Mrs. Lowry sharply. "I declare I don't know what these young bucks are thinking of to keep challenging you like this. Have you lost one yet?"
"Not yet," replied Will through a mouthful of biscuit. He stamped into his boots and took a last swallow of coffee before heading out the kitchen door into the stable yard, slinging his baldric over his shoulder.
"He's all saddled up, sir!" piped Tim the sable boy, leading up Will's horse, a rather nondescript chestnut gelding. "Can I come with you this morning, sir? You promised me last time that I could."
"If you like. Just don't tell your ma, or she'll skin me!" Will grinned as he gathered his reins and mounted.
"Joseph wants to come too!" Tim confided, bringing out a second horse.
"Oh?" asked Will, looking around and seeing the man standing near the kitchen door. "Joseph, can you ride?"
"No, sir, but the lad said he'd take me up with him," replied Joseph.
"Oh, all right then," said Will. "Tim, when you have time, could you teach Joseph to ride? I'd appreciate it."
"Yes, sir," said the lad hopping into the saddle. Joseph climbed up behind him, and they headed off down the carriageway.
Lt. Markson, who usually served as Will's second, was waiting just beyond the gate. "G'morning Will." He mumbled, yawning. "I see you brought an audience with you today."
"Good morning, Richard," replied Will. "Can I help it if people want to watch?"
Two years ago, when Will and Elizabeth had become engaged, the sons of the local aristocrats had been enraged at the thought of the Governor's daughter marrying a lowly blacksmith. They'd insulted him whenever possible, and Will had challenged them to back up their words with their swords. Not for nothing had Will practiced swordplay for three hours a day for many years, and to their frustration, none of the young men were able to so much as wound the upstart blacksmith. After several duels, Will has taken to slashing each man's face with his sword tip, leaving a two or three inch cut just below the cheekbone, just deep enough to leave a scar. He'd hoped that this would discourage them from continuing to challenge him, but so far it hadn't worked. Grimly he wondered if the small scars were becoming status symbols.
After several minutes ride they came to a stretch of beach out of sight from the town. Dismounting, Will handed the chestnut's reins to Joseph, and stripped off his coat and waistcoat, draping them over the saddle. Markson dismounted as well, tossing the reins to his horse to Tim, and sauntering over to where Edmund and John MacLaren were waiting. "I don't suppose you intend to apologize?" he asked without much hope.
Edmund MacLaren looked frightened, obviously someone had told him what a good swordsman Will was, but John MacLaren snapped, "Of course not!". Markson, shrugged, then flicked a finger over his own unmarked cheek - a wordless reference to the small scar that decorated John's, and walked back over to Will.
"No luck?" asked Will, swinging his arms to warm up his muscles.
"No, though I think your opponent this morning is scared to death," confided Markson. "You were right, John put him up to it."
"Oh, well then. Let's get it over with." Will drew his sword and tossed the scabbard onto the ground where it wouldn't be in the way. He walked to the center of the quiet beach and waited. Slowly, Edmund walked over to him. "Are you sure you're up to this?" asked Will. "You don't look as though you slept particularly well last night."
Edmund did his best to work up a sneer. "I don't need comments on my health from the likes of you."
"As you say," answered Will mildly, saluting his opponent. "En garde."
Edmund lunged at Will, who parried the thrust effortlessly. Again, Edmund attacked, and again Will neatly deflected his blade. Several minutes later, Will grew bored with toying with his opponent and attacked. It only took a moment or two to slap the sword from Edmund's hand, and flick the sword tip over his cheek. Bending, Will picked up Edmund's sword and held it out. "Can I assume you surrender?" he asked.
Without speaking, Edmund snatched his sword from Will's hand and marched up the beach to where John and their horses were waiting. A few minutes later, the two men were gone.
"Excellent form!" called a voice from the trees. Will whirled around to see Jack stepping forward onto the beach. "Excellent. How you stay in practice fighting imbeciles like that, however, is beyond my comprehension."
"Captain Sparrow," said Markson, walking forward to clasp Jack's hand. "Good to see you, sir."
"Hello, Markson," said Jack.
"Richard and several of his friends from Fort Charles come down a couple times a week to practice," said Will. "Helps to keep me sharp."
"Is that so?" asked Jack, interest lighting in his eyes. "How good are you?" he asked Markson.
Markson grinned and drew his sword. "For fun?"
Jack grinned in answer, pulled off his baldric and coat, and then drew his own sword. "For fun."
Will sat down on the sand to watch his friends fight. Tim tethered the horses nearby and he and Joseph sat down as well. It was a good show. Markson's conservative military background was a startling contrast to Jack's flamboyant style. Since Markson had been fencing with Will, he'd loosened up quite a bit, but it was still humorous to watch. Jack was obviously toying with him and Markson knew it, but from the grin on his face he wasn't offended. Finally Jack slapped the sword from Markson's hand and the bout was over. "Ohhhh! You got me!" laughed Richard. "That was wonderful!"
Jack grinned. "My thanks for the entertainment, Lieutenant." He turned to look at Will. "Hey, Turner! Now that I'm warmed up, care to have a try?"
Will leaned back on his elbows, "Oh, I don't know. Reasonable form I suppose, but how's your footwork?"
"Get your skinny butt down here and find out!" Jack called.
Laughing, Will got to his feet and drew his sword. "Are you that anxious for a scar on your cheek?"
"I'm the only one I've ever heard of who's beaten you, so don't get cocky."
"That's only because you cheated. In a fair fight I'd kill you."
"Who said anything about fair?" asked Jack, then lunged unexpectedly. Will barely parried the thrust, then flicked his own sword toward Jack's face. It was stopped a bare inch from Jack's nose. Both men were excellent swordsmen - Will better at classic fencing, while Jack had more than twenty years of experience as a pirate with an endless supply of tricks up his sleeve. They ranged up and down the beach, in and out of the water, using every move and trick each knew, but neither was able to disarm the other. Finally, knee deep in the water, Jack hooked a foot around Will's ankle and tripped him. Will wasn't quite able to save himself from falling, but he was able to drag Jack down with him. They surfaced sputtering and laughing, ready to call the match a draw. Throwing their arms around each other's shoulders, they staggered to shore.
"You cheated again," Will said, gasping with laughter.
"You have to get over this fixation you have with fair play," Jack grinned. "You'll never get anywhere with that attitude."
Chapter 4
Shortly before dawn, Will rose and slipped quietly out of bed. Dressing quickly in a simple pair of breeches and a shirt, he picked up his waistcoat, coat and boots before slipping out the door. If Elizabeth woke up she'd argue with him again, and he didn't need the distraction. He made his way through the still dark house to the kitchen. There he was not surprised to find the cook already awake, with a cup of coffee and a biscuit waiting for him. Telling the stable boy he'd need his horse ready this early was the same as making a general announcement to the household that he was fighting this morning. "Bless you, Mrs. Lowry," he said gratefully as he took a swallow of the hot brew before struggling into his waistcoat and coat.
"Well, you be careful this morning, Master Will," said Mrs. Lowry sharply. "I declare I don't know what these young bucks are thinking of to keep challenging you like this. Have you lost one yet?"
"Not yet," replied Will through a mouthful of biscuit. He stamped into his boots and took a last swallow of coffee before heading out the kitchen door into the stable yard, slinging his baldric over his shoulder.
"He's all saddled up, sir!" piped Tim the sable boy, leading up Will's horse, a rather nondescript chestnut gelding. "Can I come with you this morning, sir? You promised me last time that I could."
"If you like. Just don't tell your ma, or she'll skin me!" Will grinned as he gathered his reins and mounted.
"Joseph wants to come too!" Tim confided, bringing out a second horse.
"Oh?" asked Will, looking around and seeing the man standing near the kitchen door. "Joseph, can you ride?"
"No, sir, but the lad said he'd take me up with him," replied Joseph.
"Oh, all right then," said Will. "Tim, when you have time, could you teach Joseph to ride? I'd appreciate it."
"Yes, sir," said the lad hopping into the saddle. Joseph climbed up behind him, and they headed off down the carriageway.
Lt. Markson, who usually served as Will's second, was waiting just beyond the gate. "G'morning Will." He mumbled, yawning. "I see you brought an audience with you today."
"Good morning, Richard," replied Will. "Can I help it if people want to watch?"
Two years ago, when Will and Elizabeth had become engaged, the sons of the local aristocrats had been enraged at the thought of the Governor's daughter marrying a lowly blacksmith. They'd insulted him whenever possible, and Will had challenged them to back up their words with their swords. Not for nothing had Will practiced swordplay for three hours a day for many years, and to their frustration, none of the young men were able to so much as wound the upstart blacksmith. After several duels, Will has taken to slashing each man's face with his sword tip, leaving a two or three inch cut just below the cheekbone, just deep enough to leave a scar. He'd hoped that this would discourage them from continuing to challenge him, but so far it hadn't worked. Grimly he wondered if the small scars were becoming status symbols.
After several minutes ride they came to a stretch of beach out of sight from the town. Dismounting, Will handed the chestnut's reins to Joseph, and stripped off his coat and waistcoat, draping them over the saddle. Markson dismounted as well, tossing the reins to his horse to Tim, and sauntering over to where Edmund and John MacLaren were waiting. "I don't suppose you intend to apologize?" he asked without much hope.
Edmund MacLaren looked frightened, obviously someone had told him what a good swordsman Will was, but John MacLaren snapped, "Of course not!". Markson, shrugged, then flicked a finger over his own unmarked cheek - a wordless reference to the small scar that decorated John's, and walked back over to Will.
"No luck?" asked Will, swinging his arms to warm up his muscles.
"No, though I think your opponent this morning is scared to death," confided Markson. "You were right, John put him up to it."
"Oh, well then. Let's get it over with." Will drew his sword and tossed the scabbard onto the ground where it wouldn't be in the way. He walked to the center of the quiet beach and waited. Slowly, Edmund walked over to him. "Are you sure you're up to this?" asked Will. "You don't look as though you slept particularly well last night."
Edmund did his best to work up a sneer. "I don't need comments on my health from the likes of you."
"As you say," answered Will mildly, saluting his opponent. "En garde."
Edmund lunged at Will, who parried the thrust effortlessly. Again, Edmund attacked, and again Will neatly deflected his blade. Several minutes later, Will grew bored with toying with his opponent and attacked. It only took a moment or two to slap the sword from Edmund's hand, and flick the sword tip over his cheek. Bending, Will picked up Edmund's sword and held it out. "Can I assume you surrender?" he asked.
Without speaking, Edmund snatched his sword from Will's hand and marched up the beach to where John and their horses were waiting. A few minutes later, the two men were gone.
"Excellent form!" called a voice from the trees. Will whirled around to see Jack stepping forward onto the beach. "Excellent. How you stay in practice fighting imbeciles like that, however, is beyond my comprehension."
"Captain Sparrow," said Markson, walking forward to clasp Jack's hand. "Good to see you, sir."
"Hello, Markson," said Jack.
"Richard and several of his friends from Fort Charles come down a couple times a week to practice," said Will. "Helps to keep me sharp."
"Is that so?" asked Jack, interest lighting in his eyes. "How good are you?" he asked Markson.
Markson grinned and drew his sword. "For fun?"
Jack grinned in answer, pulled off his baldric and coat, and then drew his own sword. "For fun."
Will sat down on the sand to watch his friends fight. Tim tethered the horses nearby and he and Joseph sat down as well. It was a good show. Markson's conservative military background was a startling contrast to Jack's flamboyant style. Since Markson had been fencing with Will, he'd loosened up quite a bit, but it was still humorous to watch. Jack was obviously toying with him and Markson knew it, but from the grin on his face he wasn't offended. Finally Jack slapped the sword from Markson's hand and the bout was over. "Ohhhh! You got me!" laughed Richard. "That was wonderful!"
Jack grinned. "My thanks for the entertainment, Lieutenant." He turned to look at Will. "Hey, Turner! Now that I'm warmed up, care to have a try?"
Will leaned back on his elbows, "Oh, I don't know. Reasonable form I suppose, but how's your footwork?"
"Get your skinny butt down here and find out!" Jack called.
Laughing, Will got to his feet and drew his sword. "Are you that anxious for a scar on your cheek?"
"I'm the only one I've ever heard of who's beaten you, so don't get cocky."
"That's only because you cheated. In a fair fight I'd kill you."
"Who said anything about fair?" asked Jack, then lunged unexpectedly. Will barely parried the thrust, then flicked his own sword toward Jack's face. It was stopped a bare inch from Jack's nose. Both men were excellent swordsmen - Will better at classic fencing, while Jack had more than twenty years of experience as a pirate with an endless supply of tricks up his sleeve. They ranged up and down the beach, in and out of the water, using every move and trick each knew, but neither was able to disarm the other. Finally, knee deep in the water, Jack hooked a foot around Will's ankle and tripped him. Will wasn't quite able to save himself from falling, but he was able to drag Jack down with him. They surfaced sputtering and laughing, ready to call the match a draw. Throwing their arms around each other's shoulders, they staggered to shore.
"You cheated again," Will said, gasping with laughter.
"You have to get over this fixation you have with fair play," Jack grinned. "You'll never get anywhere with that attitude."