Tortuga 1559
The ship glided into Tortuga's harbor under the golden glow of a setting sun. The town was chaotic and beautiful. Ramshackle buildings leaned against one another, flags fluttered from atop the taverns, figures in mismatched clothing loitered along the docks and crates of goods were hauled off ships. The scent of salt, rum, and adventure filled the air. Various sea shanties could be heard all around. It was the haven for pirates, smugglers, misfits and alike.
"Welcome to Tortuga," Isabella said with a wide smile. "Home sweet home."
When they stepped on the shore, whispers rippled through the crowd, as the townsfolk recognized Captain John Roxton. Isabella led the crew through the streets. Along the road they saw drunken sailors, merchants and street performers who were juggling flaming torches. They reached a building with a wooden sign swinging above the entrance that read The Black Siren.
"If anyone has any information about anything, it'll be here." Isabella said.
John glanced at the sign. "The Black Siren. Fitting. Let's hope the clientele are just as cooperative as they are infamous."
"Or we might leave with more bruises than answers." One of the crew muttered under his breath.
"Keep your wits about you, gentlemen." Isabella said. "This isn't a place for fools or faint hearts. Follow my lead and, above all, keep your tempers in check."
When John and the crew entered, the lively hum of voices suddenly faltered. Every eye turned their way.
John Roxton stepped forward and tipped his hat slightly. "Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Captain John Roxton. I'm looking for a man who goes by the name Sage."
For a moment, no one spoke. Then, a pirate in a patched coat and a faded tricorn, rose from his seat. "That's bold name to carry around here. Tortuga don't take kindly to men who sail under an English flag. This is a haven for free souls."
"I'm not here to stir trouble, nor am I here in the name of any flag." John replied. "I seek only information. Tell me where I can find this Sage, and we'll be on our way."
"Information ain't cheep. And why would we aid an Englishman?"
Isabella stepped in. "You must admit, the Spaniards are a shade worse, no? Besides, Captain Roxton is an ally of the Havana pirates. Surely, you've heard of that fruitful partnership."
"And who might you be, young lad?" Asked the pirate. "You've got quite the tongue for someone so fresh-faced."
"I'm Joaquín Espina, the son of the late Captain Espina. My father was murdered by his own people. Since that day, I've denounced the Spanish flag. So, if you doubt my loyalties, let me assure you—they are only to myself and those who oppose them."
"Well, Espina, you've got a point about the Spaniards. They've left a sour taste in plenty of mouths here. But alliances and stories don't mean much without proof."
"We're not here to earn your trust, nor prove ourselves," John said. "We're here for a name. Tell us what we need to know, and you'll never see us again."
A low murmur spread through the tavern. A grizzled man near the bar chuckled darkly. "You've got quite the mouth on you, Roxton. A bit too bold for an Englishman, wouldn't you say?"
One of the Roxton's sailors stepped forward. "You'd do well to mind your tongue. Our captain's got more honor in his boots than the lot of you combined!"
At his words chairs scraped against the wooden floor and hands drifted for blades and tankards, ready for either violence or a good brawl. In the next moment the tavern erupted. Words turned to shouts, shouts to curses, and soon a fist flew across the room.
"Idiotas!" Isabella exclaimed as she ducked to the side, dodging a flying tankard.
Everyone was in the middle of the fight, when the booming voice split through the noise. "Enough of this!"
Heads turned toward the door as a figure stepped inside. It was a tall and broad man with silver hair tied into a ponytail. He had a scar, cutting across one eye. He was leaning on a heavy cane, though it was clear from his posture that he didn't really need it. "Well, if it isn't the scoundrel himself—John Roxton! I wondered if you were still breathing, old friend."
Roxton broke into a broad grin as he turned to face the old pirate. "Ben Daringold!"
They approached each other and they clasped each other's forearms.
"Didn't think I'd see you here, in the belly of Tortuga," Daringold remarked. "Looks like the years have treated you kindly."
"I could say the same for you, though I recall your beard being less... frostbitten." Roxton teased.
"How does a man like Roxton know Ben Daringold?" Asked one of the pirates.
"We were privateers together." Roxton explained. "Until good old Ben here decided that sailing under The Black Flag suited him better."
"Aye." Daringold confirmed. "The Black Flag is all about one's allegiance to Man's natural freedoms."
"Freedoms?" Roxton asked, skeptically.
"My old friend, Tortuga will be the first place on this Earth, where all men and women may live as God made them, easy and free. All it takes is a few drops of blood, sweat and a swatch of cloth."
"If you say so..." Roxton replied, again skeptically.
"Now, what brings you to Tortuga, Roxton?" Daringold asked. "Surely not just to reminisce with an old sea dog like me."
John motioned toward a nearby table. When they sat, he said, "We're in search of a man called the Sage. I have a feeling you might know something about him."
"The Sage? Now there's a name that brings more trouble than treasure…"
"It is being said he knows the location of El Dorado." John added and murmurs rippled through the room.
Daringold laughed. "El Dorado? Ah, rot! Fairy stories you prefer to gold, is it?"
"The Spaniards don't seem to think they're fairy stories." John replied. "Word is they've already found Sage and are deep in the search for the golden city. Some whispers even claim they've found it."
Daringold's laughter faded a bit. "Spaniards, eh? That's not good. I'll tell you what... I'll help you track down this Sage of yours—if you help me first." He flashed a grin. "A few Spanish galleons, ripe for the plundering… All in the name of old times' sake, of course."