Scarface Read Free Page B

Justin—”
    â€œJustin!” He shook off her grip and caught her by the shoulders. “Tell me, Liza, what mean you by naming me so?”
    At his demand the veil of cunning dropped back across her pig eyes. She twisted free of him with a roll of her heavy shoulders.
    â€œWot would I mean, ye gutter-whelp? Git ye out ‘fore I call th’ Cap'n.” She ended with a scream of rage and cuffed him across the face, a blow whose sting brought tears to his eyes.
    His chance of learning anything was gone now and heknew it. So, with a shrug of resignation, he left her there and followed the slave out of the patio.
    Liza had called him “Justin” as if that were his name! What did the old drudge know? For a moment his own helplessness choked him. No one could make Liza speak if she chose not to, not even Cheap. And clearly she did not choose in this instance. Unless he could trap her into some admission next time they put in to Tortuga—
    The swift dusk of the tropics was on the town. From the open doors of the grogshops came the raucous shouts and spurts of song where the Brethren were spending their spoils. Once or twice a shadowy figure slipped down the road, body pressed against the wall, untrusting eyes upon all comers. Tortuga after nightfall was only for him who could defend himself and any property of value which he might be carrying.
    Down at the waterside Scarface hailed a halfbreed who had a dugout for hire and bargained to be set aboard the Naughty Lass. The ship seemed deserted as the clumsy craft nuzzled her side. She was still foul of bottom from voyaging in warm waters where bred weed and ship worms, but Cheap had given no orders to have her careened and refitted. Even the expedient of “boot-hosing” to remove the damaging stuff to the water edge had been neglected. Did Cheap think he was so good a seaman that he could go a-hunting in a ship as foul as the usual man-o’-war?
    The boy clambered up by the dangling ladder and then tossed down a rope for the chest. Slave and box came up together and departed cabinwards while Scarface made his way to the quarter-deck. Despite the litter on her deck and the present uncleanliness of her keel, the ship had sweet,true lines. Under another master, the boy believed, she might show her teeth to half the Main without fear.
    Not that Cheap was a poor leader. When the rum was not afire in his brain he was as cool and keen as a king's admiral should be but seldom was. But the Captain was prone to fancy himself the better man in every engagement—sailing carelessly into a fight without first carefully reckoning one chance against another. ’Twas all right to be a raging fury in battle. But battle fury was not always enough. Straight and cool thinking was what salvaged a forlorn hope. Now take the time that they had attacked that Dutch brig off Curacao—that had been a bad guess on Cheap's part. The Naughty Lass had barely limped free and the Dutchman had bounced on as pert as you please. Not all merchantmen to be met in these waters were fowls for the pot—some were foxes with sharp teeth!
    â€œWot's t’ do?” a vast bulk of man heaved out of the shadows.
    â€œCaptain's chest come aboard,” returned Scarface shortly.
    â€œEh? Who's—oh, ’tis Cap'n Scarface,” the thick voice became derisive. “We be oncommon ’onored, Cap'n—”
    â€œYou're drunk, Nat.” Scarface tried to edge away but a huge paw caught him fast.
    â€œDrunk say ye? Wal, mayhap I be. Though drinkin’ these plaguey French wines's loike drinkin’ water.” Nat Creagh, sometime poacher and all the time thief, spat noisily into the sea and relaxed his grip so that the boy was able to wriggle free. “So Cap'n Cheap ’as ’ad ’is fill o’ soft livin’,” he continued, rubbing his hairy hand across the red brush on his jutting chin. A great body of a man, he had the ways