Kage Baker: Or Else My Lady Keeps the Key

Opening his sea chest, John looked down at his clothes, that Mrs. Waverly had laundered and neatly folded. He rummaged through them. Lying atop the crossed arms of his spare shirt he found the twist of paper. On it she had written: Pray excuse my little frailty.

He sighed.

Walking along in the gloom before sunrise, John spotted the Revenge moored at the common landing by King’s Wharf. Men were offloading boxes of china, silently and swiftly, and Sejanus and Mr. Tudeley stood in quiet conversation with a merchant. Money exchanged hands. The china was trundled away on a cart. Sejanus and Mr. Tudeley were turning to go back on board when they spotted John.

Clearly, they had been ashore with money to spend. Sejanus had a fine black coat of watered silk to match his hat, and a silver-topped ebony walking stick. Mr. Tudeley had gotten a fearsome new tattoo on his chest, of a grinning skull above crossed bones. It was still bleeding slightly. To their credit, neither of them laughed as they watched John come slinking up with his sea chest on his shoulder.

“The lady changed her mind about marrying, did she?” said Mr. Tudeley. “I thought as much. Not really a suitable girl, old fellow.”

“We’re about to sail,” said Sejanus. “Coming aboard?”

“It’s only for a cruise or two,” said John. “Just until I make enough of a pile to set myself up in a shop.”

“To be sure,” said Sejanus, with a straight face.

They went aboard the Revenge . Before the sun rose she was under sail, well past Deadman’s Cay, bound for Tortuga.