“Aaron, stop it,” ordered Mardon, feeling as if his brother, who was twenty-six, was trying to get the old woman to favor him since all the women usually favored Mardon instead. It was a known fact. Mardon could work magic on any female he chose, and she’d do whatever pleased him. Could his undeniable charms work on an old woman, too? He wasn’t sure. Especially when she was acting like his mother!
“Stop what?” Aaron faked ignorance, even though he knew exactly what Mardon meant.
“You’re only playing up to her so she’ll make you those dang biscuits, and we both know it.”
“What’s so bad about that?” asked Nairnie. “Mardon, ye are never goin’ to find a nice lass to marry if ye continue to be so grumpy. Try smilin’ a little and be carin’, just like Aaron.”
“What?” Mardon shook his head, knowing he needed to control this situation before things got out of hand. After all, it was getting close to it already. “Stitch, take the helm,” he called out to his ship’s navigator, the oldest man of the crew.
“Aye, Cap’n.” Stitch ran up the stairs, knocking into Peg Leg Pate who was attempting to fix one of the bottom steps.
“Watch it,” snapped Pate. “Ye nearly stepped on my hand, ye bloody cur. I should have tripped ye with my wooden leg.”
“Haven’t ye got that damned thing fixed yet?” Stitch asked. “It’s a stupid step! What is the problem?”
“Arrgh,” growled Peg Leg. “I just can’t seem to get rid of the squeak. I’ll need to pick up some more materials and better nails when we dock.” He put the board back into place, hit it once with the hammer and struggled to stand up, since he only had one good leg. But even with a wooden leg, Pate was to be feared. Put a sword in his hand and no one would remember he walked on wood because they’d be too busy fighting for their life.
“I’m here, Cap’n,” said Stitch, taking the helm. The wind was strong today, filling the main sail, moving them swiftly across the waters. The Falcon was a lapstrake, or clinker built ship. The edges of the hull planks overlapped each other. It was a decent-sized ship and held 50 tuns in the hold. While it wasn’t the largest or fastest ship on the sea, it still held its own. They headed south, down toward the channel. “What’s our destination, Cap’n?” asked Stitch.
“I figure we can stop in Mablethorpe for supplies,” Mardon answered.
“Mablethorpe?” asked Nairnie, her head popping up like flotsam. “Hrmph.”
“Why don’t you come right out and say what you mean, Nairnie?” asked Mardon.
“Oh, it’s nothin’. No’ really.” She looked down and brushed invisible lint from her arm.
“Nairnie, do you know something?” asked Aaron. “Is it anything to do with the clue to the treasure?”
“Mayhap.” She gave them no free information. Mardon realized if he wanted to find the bloody treasure he was going to have to work with the old woman since, right now, she was holding all the cards.
“Nairnie? What do you know?” asked Mardon.
“Are ye still goin’ to leave me on shore or am I comin’ with ye on the journey?” It was bad enough to have his younger brother making deals with him, but now Mardon was about to negotiate with a little old woman. What was happening here?
He released a deep breath and once again stared out to sea. “All right, damn it, you can come with us but only if you don’t start any more trouble.”
“Guid,” she said with satisfaction, as if she approved of his answer, though it wouldn’t have mattered if she didn’t.
“Good? You mean great! Now, we’ll be having biscuits again,” said Aaron with a big smile. He squeezed Nairnie’s shoulder.
“Aaron, forget about food, and for God’s sake take your arm from around Nairnie’s shoulders,” said Mardon. “We’re leaders of pirates with a crew watching, so stop acting like a milksop.”
“Sorry,” said Aaron, removing his arm from Nairnie’s shoulders and clearing his throat.
“That’s better,” said Mardon. “Now, Nairnie, spill your guts and tell us what you know.”
“All I ken is this.” She reached into her bodice and pulled out a torn piece of parchment, unfolding it in front of the men.
“Give it here.” Mardon’s hand shot out, but Nairnie pulled the parchment out of his reach.
“Ye’re still no’ actin’ very polite,” she snapped.
“Can I please see it, Grandmother?” Aaron held out his hand and Nairnie graciously gave it to him. Aaron looked over at Mardon and smiled. “Mayhap someday you’ll learn how to deal with women,” he said with a chuckle.
“Shut up, Aaron. I have women falling at my feet and you don’t, so that should tell you something.”
“Are ye speakin’ of whores again?” asked Nairnie, causing both Aaron and Stitch to start laughing.
“Read the parchment, little brother,” warned Mardon, purposely referring to him in a manner that Aaron despised.
Aaron glared at him but didn’t say a word. “All right,” he finally answered. “Let me see.” Aaron looked down to the parchment in his hand. “There are only half the words here. It looks like it says Sh . . . ad . . . nn . . . eat . . . mouth. Eat mouth? I’m getting hungry reading this.”
“You’re always hungry. Let me see that.” Mardon snatched the parchment away from him, studying the half-words that made no sense. “Eat mouth. Eat mouth . . . I think this is a bunch of gibberish and doesn’t mean a thing.” He pushed the parchment back into Nairnie’s hands and headed down the stairs.
“Perhaps it means Great Yarmouth,” came Nairnie’s words from behind Mardon. He suddenly stopped. Turning around, he darted back up the stairs.
“Let me see that again.” He reached out for it, but Nairnie held the parchment to her chest.
“Is that how ye speak to yer grandmathair?” she asked him.
The old woman wasn’t going to make this easy. Her antics were already driving him crazy. He glanced around, seeing Stitch at the helm and Pate down by the burned galley talking to a few of the crew. Coop, his barrel maker, was fixing a hole in a barrel, and Goldtooth was swabbing the deck. They all seemed busy, so he said under his breath, “Please, may I see it, Nairnie?”
She started to hand it to him, but pulled it back once again. “Aaron calls me Grandmathair. And even Tristan did when I asked him to.”
“Well, my brothers are damned fools. Now give it to me. Please,” he added, stressing the word.
“Ye’ve called me Grandmathair before, Mardon. I’ve heard ye.”
“All right my dear, conniving Grandmother, can I see the clue . . . please?” He felt like a danged fool doing this, and hoped to hell none of his crew heard him. He knew now why Tristan had never wanted to call her Grandmother and only did it at the end to satisfy her. It made men like them look weak in front of the others.
“I dinna like the connivin’ part, but I suppose I’ll show it to ye anyway.” She handed it to him and Mardon eagerly took it, running his finger down the jagged page. “I think I ken what this means.” He shoved it back at her and turned and headed over to Stitch with Nairnie and Aaron on his heels.