01 Nancy The Tavern Wench

by Rick Dean - Dinosaur

Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Action/Adventure · #2360942

There's debauching and more to be found at Nancy's Harbour Café

Nancy The Tavern Wench

Cutthroats threw dice against lowlifes. A card game featured even worse sorts. Harlots of all shapes and sizes draped themselves over anyone with a full purse. The dregs of the Caribbean, or the finest of the Caribbean – it depended on your perspective. They all came for the debauchery and sin. If violence happened to break out, well, so much the better.

Captain Scarlett walked in and immediately cast his eyes on a woman lording over the scene from an upstairs balcony. She smiled and all his senses screamed 'trouble.'

“Ay, that’d be Nancy,” said Josiah English, his quartermaster.

“Hard to believe such an angel can exist in such a den of sin.”

“And yet she runs the place.”

“You were right, she’s no child. Yet what a woman!”

“She’ll be there later. And she’s already seen you and marked you as the captain. You won’t have to settle for any of her girls. But first, business.”

“First, a drink. Then, business.”

“Aye, drinks it is."

They signaled one of the tavern wenches across the room and made a motion for drinks.

They’ve mighty fine beer here,” suggested English.

“Beer? In the islands? How do they get it?”

“She keeps it a secret.”

“Can we get in on it? How does it arrive? Can we intercept it?”

“Truth is, I have no idea how she gets it.”

“See what you can learn of it.”

The captain looked back up at Nancy.

“You were right,” Scarlett continued. “On the beach you called her ‘a tiny little thing that’ll melt yer heart.’ You said ‘a man just doesn’t find a lass like that down here in The Spanish Lake.’ She’s no spring chicken, but I daresay the lass ages so graceful you’d think she found ol Ponce’s Fountain of Youth.”

“Careful, Captain. The whole tavern can see she’s struck your fancy.”

“She just may have.”

“This inn is all hers. Nancy’s Harbour Café is wilder than the best of Port Royal in it’s prime. Or the worst, for that matter.”

“And the man we want to see is here, too?”

“That’s what I hear. A man calling himself Storm. He used to drink at One-Eyed Jack’s before Jack died. Now he's moved up a mite.”

The tavern wench returned and soon they each had a flagon in their hands. The beer tasted foul, yet the novelty of having beer on an island like St. Cruz put smiles on their faces. They sipped the frothy brew and scanned the room. Nancy had the only two-story building in all of St. Cruz. Girls entertained upstairs; every other conceivable form of debauchery happened downstairs. Nancy’s had no door, just a doorway. After all, her Café never closed.

Shouts of joy and horror; ecstasy and outrage, all blended into an intense cacophony unmatched anywhere. No one would overhear their quiet conversation for all the carousing. Several of the crew had already made their way to her inn, and from the looks of things, they were well on their way to parting with their share of the spoils from the last cruise.

“In the corner,” whispered Josiah.

Captain Scarlett waited a moment, then slowly looked in that direction. Under the stairs, concealed by shadows, sat a solitary man at a table, drinking alone. He kept the hood of his cloak up despite the heat, covering his face in shadows, yet unable to conceal the leathered skin and greying stubble. He sipped ale from a tin mug with one hand while the other arm rested on the table. That second arm ended not with a hand, but a large wrought-iron hook. He noticed the captains glance and nodded. Taking that for an invitation, Scarlett and English weaved through the crowd to the far corner.

"Mind if we join you?"

"Depends,” the man responded, “you buying the ale?”

Captain Scarlett again signaled and another buxom young woman appeared. She might have been pretty once, but pox scars marred her face. Still, the patrons at Nancy’s didn’t seem to mind.

“Ale,” the man in the shadows demanded. “And none of that piss you call beer.”

The woman scurried away.

“I’m Scarlett. Captain of the Defiance. I believe you know my associate, Mr. English.”

“They used to call me Storm.”

“Well met.”

“Yes, thank you. I’d shake but…” he nodded at the hook.

“I’ve heard of you. My father used to tell tales of you terrorizing the high seas. No patch of water from Newport to Tortuga was said to be safe from your lot.”

“Those days ha' long passed. I’m more like Alestorm now.”

“Still, I hear tales. One of those tales says you may be looking for the right partner in a certain business venture.”

“Business venture?” he rasped out a guttural attempt at a laugh, “yes, I s'pose you could call it that.”

The men lowered their voices even further, leaned closer, and whispered for several minutes.

“Then it’s agreed,” Alestorm announced. He still had steel in his gaze. “Meet me on the beach in two hours. There’s an old sail-cloth tent by the jetty. We’ll setting things there.”

“Agreed.”

“Now if ye don’t mind, I prefer to do my drinking by myself.”

“Very well. Begging your pardon but I suspect I’m going to enjoy Ms. Nancy’s company a bit more than yours in a moment.”

The captain and quartermaster stood and made their way across the room. Captain Scarlett looked up and saw the elfin face of Nancy looking down. He smiled and she offered an inviting smile of her own in return.

“Mr. English, see if any of these scoundrels know their way around a deck. We can always use more capable hands. Oh, and feel free to find some company of your own if you wish. I’ll have need of you again in two hours. Until then, you’ll find me upstairs.”

Before Scarlett could leave, he felt a strong pounding on his back. He lurched forward, almost spilling his mug. He turned, reaching for the knife in his belt. His hand relaxed when he saw one of his men. In truth, little more than a boy. He was a blockish lad, with a soft face and a thick Germanic accent, who claimed to be from Fresia.

“Cap’n!” he slurred.

Scarlett smiled, “Konrad, good to see you, lad!”

Behind him sat all the top-men from Defiance. After spending an entire cruise up in the rigging, they wobbled when standing on dry land even before the beer. Konrad smashed his mug into Scarlett’s, attempting to toast.

“Drink vit us, Cap’n! Drown your sorrows in beer! A couple mugs and you’ll not haf a care in the world! Live for today! Ve’re going wenching ‘till ve ain’t got a coin in our pockets between us! Zen you’ll take us back out and make us rich again! Zen we’ll live for ze day, again! Spend it all on wenches! No regrets, Cap’n!”

“Perhaps you’d better sit back down before you fall over, Konrad,” Scarlett replied as he guided his crewman towards the nearest bench. “As for the drink, I’ll drink with you men any time. But I’ll have to join you later if you’re still here.”

Konrad frowned the visible disappointment of a child or a drunk. He may have been both.

The captain nodded his head towards the stairs. “Right now, I’m off to see Ms. Nancy.”

Konrad's eyes widened.

“Huzzah!” he bellowed. His crewmates joined in, sloshing even more beer around in another frantic attempt at a toast.

Scarlett made his way up the stairs. As he drew closer, he looked up. Nancy awaited, returning his gaze. She must have been a prize worthy of kings in her youth, he thought. Still stunning today, and it isn’t just the paint on her face. She might be well into middle age, but so am I .

“You must be Nancy.”

“Charmed. And you must be the Captain Scarlett that brought these boys to my island.”

“Your island?”

“I like to think of it that way. A woman can have her indulgences. Besides, ships always come and go, but not many of us live here full time.”

“And why do you live here? Between the heat and the snakes and the bugs and the Spanish, I’m lucky if a new crewman lasts a year before he dies. These islands are hell on earth. I’ll quit them myself the moment I have the money.”

“And there you have it. There’s money to be had here. Your men make it your way and I make it mine. Besides, up north I may be nothing but here I may as well be a princess.”

“Well, Princess,” perhaps we can continue this discussion upstairs.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled.

“Or perhaps we can go upstairs and not continue this conversation. My men aren’t the only ones who’ve been away at sea.”

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