Chương 27: Finally Seeing What We’re Dealing With

I burst out of Wynnie's room into the hallway. My feet skidded along the cool wooden floor as I rushed to the main room. Flinging the door open, I practically leapt for the dangling rope that hung from the alarm bell. It rang a deep, resonant metallic sound. Each fresh ring echoed through the inn, shaking dust from rafters, which caught in the rising sunbeams. One after another, sailors emerged from their rooms, simultaneously sleepy and alert. They rubbed their eyes and tugged on trousers.

All of them murmured hurriedly among themselves. The boatswain came out and approached me. He opened his mouth to say something important and efficient, no doubt. But then he looked down.

"Why aren't you wearing pants?" I didn't want to get into the explanation for that. It wouldn't make me look good, and I was a gentleman, anyway. I never kiss and tell.

"You know that saying, never get caught with your pants down?" I asked.

"Can't say that I have."

"Well, I wanted to give it a shot. I wouldn't recommend it." The boatswain adjusted his gaze and looked up. He was probably no more comfortable with the situation than I was. It's pretty much never ideal to be on full display for a group of sailors. I'd already decided once not to join the Navy. Standing nude in front of a crew wasn't doing anything to sway my choice.

"The captain already left for the ship before daybreak. I don't know if that puts you in charge or what," I informed him.

"I'd say it does at that. Did he take his bags with him?"

"He did. And I'm supposed to get something from him in the hold before you all leave." A curt nod acknowledged my quick rundown. He stood a hair straighter, puffing up his chest slightly. The crew snapped to attention as the boatswain barked orders. When he finished, they immediately returned to their rooms and packed their duffels as quickly as possible. He turned to me.

"Any chance you could lend a hand getting our equipment back to the ship?"

"You can count on me. I can start right away."

"Why don't you give yourself an extra minute? Most of the guys might be more comfortable if you put some pants on."

"Most of them?"

"I'm pretty sure Matthew wouldn't mind. Or Doug, for that matter." Wynnie peeked her head through the door to see what kind of commotion she was missing. She was still straightening her glasses and fixing her hair. She looked beautifully disheveled, though only a keen observer might tell that she hadn't just woken up.

"Come on, Wynnie! I could use your hand real quick." Her eyes went wide as saucers.

"My hand! Again? At a time like this?" She growled with excitement.

"You randy animal!"

"Not like that." Is that really what she was thinking right then? And she called me the animal? Still, it was nice to know she might be on board. I turned Wynnie around and scooted her back to her room. Only a few curious eyes from the sailors followed us. It was hard to tell if they were focusing more on my bare ass or on her freshly painted face. Minutes later, we re-emerged into the main room. I wore fresh trousers, and Wynnie had wiped herself clean, except for one troublesome glob in her hair.

The mood was tense, and everyone was in a hurry, so nobody would notice. Probably. I loaded spare duffels and sundries into Wynnie's handcart. The amount these sailors had packed for a single overnight boggled the mind. Especially given that they knew a quick exit was a possibility. The wheels creaked and groaned under the weight of luggage as I carried the load down to the ship. The second trip was worse. It reminded me of the first and last time I'd tried CrossFit.

Meanwhile, Wynnie packaged up scones for the departing crew. Just because they were leaving early didn't mean they needed to go without board. When we reached the ship, she distributed the baked goods one by one until her basket was empty. It was a good thing she'd brought extra. Far more crew had stayed on board than had slept in our inn. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

She waved a quick goodbye to me before lugging a small cask from their hold and heading back to the inn. While I stayed shipboard, she'd fill it with the punch the captain had negotiated for the night before. The captain motioned me over as I helped his crew load the last duffel onto the ship. My legs carried me over to him wearily. Not only had I stayed up all night, I was dead tired. My thighs burned with soreness that I'd only partially earned. I'd stayed up all night listening for an alarm.

Then, I'd finally crossed the just-friends barrier with Wynnie, gotten shot with adrenaline from an alarm at the docks, and lugged several bags of gear up and down the hill between the inn and the captain's ship. Normally, I'd be ready to collapse. Instead, a thrill ran through me, keeping me upright. I was excited to see what he had.

"We just pulled a couple crates out of the hold. I snagged a few standards, plus a handful of my favorites. I even included one or two rare bottles in there. Anything with a blue label, you either keep that to yourself or charge an arm and a leg for it." I smiled wearily.

"Thanks." The two crates in front of me were filled with bottles of different sizes. They appeared to be slightly larger than the bottles that came standard back in the U. S. Perhaps closer to a full liter than the 750 milliliters we were used to. I wasn't mad about that. Different colors of glass reflected a dull rainbow onto the sparkling, clean deck. Deep reds, rich browns, and forest greens all created a multicolored array in earth tones. Yet it was what they contained that really excited me.

Finally, I was about to run a real bar. Sure, we'd make our bones on well drinks mixed with backwoods moonshine, but having the goods to serve some high-end stuff opened a lot of options.

"Before you go, you should see something." The captain placed a hand on my shoulder and steered me toward a telescope on deck.

"Take a look through there. Our scout will help you find what you're looking for." I navigated through the bustling activity on deck. Sailors checked the rigging while others speed-walked around looking busy. I approached the telescope, where a smartly dressed sailor stood at attention. He stepped out of the way as I approached.

"It's right on the horizon. It might be hard to see, since it's got a black hull and black sails too, but just look for the breaking surf around it." I put my eye to the eyepiece and did my best to focus. The brass burned cold against my skin. It took a minute of adjusting the scope, but finally my view settled on what they were talking about. A very small ship, only a little larger than a speedboat, was tacking laterally across the horizon.

In fact, it looked as though it was hardly moving, simply doing its best to stay roughly in the same spot. Then again, I knew basically nothing about nautical navigation. For all I knew, they could've been charging ahead at full speed. Behind me, the captain began barking orders as more of his crew woke up. His stentorian voice reminded me once more that he was a man who knew how to take charge.

"Wind mages! Get ready to fill our sails! Limber up now, because it's going to be a long day and we're starting at full speed!" A grumble of acknowledgment came from a coterie of lanky, well-toned men and women behind me. Their bodies were tanned and weather-beaten, but corded with muscle that I didn't expect to see from magic users. Yet when they began their warm-ups, I could see where they got their physiques. They gyrated like violent interpretive dancers vibing to a dubstep song.

Heavy gusts of wind blew about the deck, sending a few hats flying and a couple of gulls scrambling for safer perches. They reminded me of airbenders from Avatar. Wynnie's movements were much less expressive when she used her magic. I wondered if arcane power correlated at all with bodily emphasis. If so, we'd have to see if she got stronger when she flailed about like a wacky, waving, inflatable arm-flailing tube man. The captain turned his attention back to me.

"You saw the ship?"

"I did."

"That's just a skiff. They'll have a larger vessel nearby, no more than a few hours out. The scouts will probably try to chase us, but we have the best mages in the kingdom. They'll give up when they can't catch us."

"Uh, glad to hear it," I said. He fixed me with his steely maritime gaze.

"When they don't get what they want, they might come back here to get a consolation prize." He looked back up at the town, nodding toward the inn.

"If you see any unsavory types around, be careful."

"Of course," I said.

"Whatever you do, keep them away from your gold, protect that nice young lady, and if you must serve them... don't let them have any of the good stuff." I knew the drill. Drunken college bros looking for shots at last call didn't get Yakuza 18. If the bachelorette party was wasted, I politely declined making their margaritas with Dom Hulio 1942. Out of respect for the distillers, you didn't cast pearls before swine.

"Horse piss for the riff-raff. Got it."

That evening, Wynnie helped me place each bottle conspicuously on the back bar. The shelves reached high enough that a ladder would have been appropriate. Instead, we made do with a precariously balanced stool on the rear counter. Wynnie stabilized one of the legs while I arranged the top shelf in the candlelight. I wondered when we'd have a chance to serve them—and how much we'd charge.

"Should we try any of them for quality control? Maybe a side-by-side of a blue-labeled bottle with one of the boring brown ones?" I looked down at my beautiful assistant. With her proportions, from my angle, a turtleneck would have revealed cleavage. It took me a second to regain my train of thought.

"You know that saying, don't get high on your own supply?"

"No."

"No, you wouldn't, would you? Well, don't drink from your own sink."

"I still don't get it." I sighed.

"It means you shouldn't consume the thing you're supposed to sell. That goes double for any substance that encourages you to consume more." She folded her arms under her chest. It had a certain effect on her rack. I'm pretty sure she knew exactly what she was doing. The worst part was that despite being an obvious ploy, it was working.

"Maybe just one little taste to celebrate?"

"Wynnie. You know I want to drink less and be more responsible, right?" She pushed her boobs higher and then huffed, making them jiggle.

"It would be irresponsible not to sample something. We have to know he didn't swindle us with spoiled goods!" Was it just her boobs, or was she making sense?

"So, what, we sample three random bottles from the lot? If none of them are cooked, we assume both cases are good to serve?" She nodded, letting gravity and mammary flesh do their thing.

"Yep. That's basic quality control, like I said."

"Fine. But I'm not pouring full shots of each."

"Good. I wouldn't want you to get too drunk to kiss me again."