The Widow’s Saloon (Part 5 of 7)
In Part 4: Dr. Geovini pulled a splinter out of the captain’s face, Robert Elmsly left to go help people, and the Navy was on its way…hopefully.
The pirate ship unleashed a barrage of cannon fire that obliterated a cluster of vendor stalls that sold fish and fresh vegetables. The cadet in the watchtower stood up and took hold of the tower’s mounted swivel gun. He pulled a wick from his pocket, ignited one end in the signal fire, and lit the fuse of the cannon. He took aim at the pirate ship—a target well out of range for such a small weapon—and fired. The cadet smiled even though the growing darkness made it impossible to see where the shot had splashed down. A few seconds passed, and then a triple-boom of cannon thunder erupted as the ship returned fire.
One of the pirate cannonballs gleamed in the twilight, spinning as it hurtled through the air directly toward the tower. The cadet recognized the projectile’s trajectory and flung himself from the structure, splashing into the water below just as the roof of the tower was blown away. Splinters of wood, glowing coals, and burning thatch rained down, showering the cadet, who dived beneath the surface of the water to avoid injury.
Back at the Dotted Ox, Vlorance stood at the window, watching the horizon swallow the last of the sun. Down at the waterfront, several fires had broken out and although the Ox sat safely uphill, the distance did little to muffle the sound of people screaming.
Dr. Geovini moved to the window to stand beside her. Vlorance turned toward him, expecting to find a face marked by worry or grief. Instead, she found him gripped by a cold, sharp anger. He stared through the glass, his upper lip pulled back in a sneer of pure contempt.
“They waited for the children to come home,” he said, flames reflected in his glasses.
The doctor’s gaze caught a sudden movement in front of the saloon: a man was leading a bleeding woman toward the entrance. As the doctor’s eyes adjusted to the deepening gloom, more figures emerged from the shadows of the street. He moved quickly to pull the doors open for the arriving group.
Dr. Geovini called out to the captain, who sat nearby using the point of a curved, bone-handled knife to pry hardened mud from between the treads of his boots.
“Marces, I am going to need a hand over here!”
“Aye!”
Captain Marces slammed the dagger into the sheath on his belt. As the residents of Harbor Side poured into the Ox, the captain shoved tables together to create makeshift beds. Soon the bar was filled with enough people to make the establishment look as though payday had fallen on the first day of a long weekend. Vlorance shuttled back and forth, assisting Dr. Geovini and Captain Marces as they treated the wounded.
An hour into the ordeal, Alistair stumbled through the doors. The young man slumped into a chair and covered his face with his hands; his shoulders heaved as he sobbed soundlessly. Vlorance pulled up a chair and sat beside him. Other people in the room began to watch them, so she waved them away with a sharp gesture. When she was certain they were minding their own business, Vlorance asked Alistair if he was injured. He looked up at her with sad, dog-like eyes.
“I’m fine,” he said, and then he added quietly, “Not everyone was so lucky.”
Alistair explained to Vlorance how the restaurant where he worked, The Trawler, had collapsed after being struck by cannon fire. He was unharmed, somehow left with nothing more than a hair-thin scratch that ran diagonally from above his left eye to his right cheek. He was not even bleeding, but one of the line cooks...
Alistair looked at Vlorance and then scanned the room as if he were about to ask for help, his hands outstretched. Seeing no one available, he dropped his arms to his sides.
One of the fry cooks had died, he continued, pinned beneath an overturned oven. Alistair had tried to free his friend—someone he had worked with for years—but the oven was too heavy. He could not get the thing to move. He threw his body against it, calling for help the entire time, but nobody came. Nobody, that is, until Robert Elmsly showed up.
“Elmsly?”
“Yeah, he’s the one who told me to come here. Told all of us to come here. He came scampering over the wreckage, yelling like mad for me to get out of there. I tried telling him about Safya, but he took one look and said—”
“That it was too late.”
“Yeah...”
With those words, the last of Alistair’s resolve evaporated. His features seemed to crumple as the weight of his grief threatened to overwhelm him.
“He was a really good cook, you know? And he was a really good friend.”
Vlorance moved her chair to shield Alistair from the scrutiny of the crowd. He gripped the sleeve of her dress, squeezing the fabric tightly as he wept. When she looked down to assess the damage to her garment, she noticed that the young man’s hands were bruised and badly swollen. He must have injured himself in the desperate attempt to save his friend.
Dress be damned, Vlorance decided; he could tear it to rags for all she cared.
Chapter 8
Smoke from the burning marina obscured the sky, blocking any view of the harbor from within the Dotted Ox. It was nearly impossible to discern the progress of the battle in the town below. Henry Kallowary had purchased their plot of land at a discount because it sat so far from the lucrative traffic of the docks. At that moment, his wife felt as though they had received far more than their money’s worth.
A member of Captain Marces’s crew arrived to inform his commander that repairs to the Delta Comet were finally complete. This was good news. However, the messenger added that the pirates had landed at Harbor Side and were now pillaging the waterfront. There was something else, too.
“Captain,” the crew member said, “They’ve got First Mate Rhote that’s leading them.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed. Without a word, he reached into his money pouch and laid out two silver coins on the bar. Vlorance objected.
“That is far too much! Now you can go ahead and give me a little extra for bleeding on my floors if you like, but if you think that I am going to just let—”
Captain Marces interrupted Vlorance, clicking his tongue. “My dear Mrs. Kallowary.” He pulled open one side of his long red coat, revealing a mostly full bottle of alcohol taken from the bar’s topmost shelf. “I thank you as always for your beloved hospitality.”
In Part 6: The captain takes matters into his own hands, Elmsly gets wet, and we meet Luis Smarner
