“Hey! What’s it to you?” One of the big men glared at Hunter in surprise.
The other, without a word, swung a fist toward Hunter. With his fast reflexes, he dodged it with an easy, slight movement, then pushed both men away from him again. He was just about to speak, hoping to discourage them from further resistance, when he heard angry voices and the sound of footsteps running toward him from the tavern doorway.
Hunter turned and found a crowd of drunken pirates running toward him, yelling. He knew he could not stop them without a very hard collision, which might hurt them. So when the first four men threw themselves at him, he allowed himself to be tackled and taken down.
A moment later, however, Hunter gathered his legs under him and, with a wad of buccaneers’ clothes in each hand, stood up. The others simply fell off him; the two flailed wildly in his grip. Hunter dropped them, judging that a fall to the street would not do them any harm. Then he stepped back, warily looking around to defend himself again.
The buccaneers were muttering among themselves, but none wanted to go after Hunter alone.
“Come on, Hunter,” Steve called from behind him. “This guy isn’t MC 2, after all.”
Hunter stepped backward toward Steve’s voice, eager to avoid any further chance of harming these violent humans. Likewise, they remained where they were on the ground, eyeing him in drunken surprise. None of them spoke as Hunter joined the rest of the team.
“Let’s get out of here,” said Rita. “Hunter, you bring up the rear and see if they follow us.”
The slender buccaneer whom Hunter had rescued stayed with them as they jogged down the waterfront quickly, slipping through the crowd. Hunter focused both his vision and his hearing on the men they had left behind, but he detected no sign of pursuit. Instead, muttering to each other angrily, they just returned to the tavern.
“We have no pursuit,” Hunter announced. “We can walk if you prefer.”
“You sure?” Steve asked, but he slowed to a walk, as did the others. He looked back over his shoulder. “I guess pirates could be pretty sneaky.”
“They went back inside,” Hunter assured him. “Their motivation for another fight was lower than their motivation for more drinking.”
“That’s no surprise to me, mate,” said their new companion, in a strong British accent. “We merely had a difference of opinion about whose turn it was to pay for the round of drinks. Nothing to get your throat slashed for, hey?”
Hunter studied him. He was a young man with sun-bleached blond hair and a quick smile. Now that he was out of the shadows and walking normally, Hunter could see that he was almost as slender as MC 2, but really much taller. His clothes were similar to those of Hunter and Steve, knee breeches and a loose white shirt with flowing sleeves for freedom of movement. A belt and scabbard with a rapier in it completed the man’s attire.
“I am Roland Burke.” He turned to Rita. “And, sweet lady, you are?…”
“Rita,” she said, startled by the way he had addressed her.
Hunter introduced the rest of them.
“I’m pleased to meet you all,” said Roland. “Hunter, I thank you for your assistance. My friends can be short-tempered when the talk turns to hard coin.”
“Your opponents in the fight were your friends?” Hunter was surprised.
“Ah, well, does any buccaneer have true friends?” Roland shrugged.
Steve, saying nothing, was watching Roland with curiosity. Rita was staring at him in open fascination. Roland seemed oblivious to their interest, waving to an acquaintance in the crowd.
Hunter turned to Jane. “Is this important?” Hunter asked quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“This puzzles me,” said Hunter. “Friends brawling with each other does not fit my data on human behavior. As a roboticist, please inform me.”
“Yes, this is important.” Jane smiled indulgently. “And it’s reliable, at least in some circles and cultural milieus. Friendship is a complex idea. Store your new data. I suspect that the buccaneers are going to show you a lot of new human behavior before we go home.”
Hunter nodded.
“Well, Hunter?” Steve looked up at him. “Aren’t we going to keep looking for you-know-who?”
“Yes, of course. Let us walk.”
Rita could hardly believe that she was actually talking to a real buccaneer. She had always loved reading about the buccaneers when she had been young. As an adult, she had chosen to make a career out of studying the history of the seventeenth century Caribbean. Until Roland had spoken to her, however, everyone had still seemed unreal. Talking to him had made her realize that she was truly in the past
As Hunter led the way down the waterfront, with Steve and Jane behind him, Rita and Roland came last.
“You have some pretty rough friends,” she said, jerking her thumb back toward the tavern.
“Eh? Oh, them!” Roland laughed. “No worse than I am, I fear.”
“Oh?” Rita laughed too, amused at his tone. “Have you been in Port Royal long?”
“Oh, coming and going, I’ve been here a few years,” he said, waving his hand vaguely.
“You mean sailing in and out of port?”
“Aye.”
“Searching for Spanish ships?”
“Privateering, Rita.” He caught her eye and grinned. That expression was almost a dare.
“Always?” She raised an eyebrow skeptically.
“Well…sometimes the governor’s commission can run out, you know, or a treaty will be signed across the sea in London.” He shrugged helplessly, still smiling. “What can a poor buccaneer do about that?”
“Not a thing, I’m sure.” Rita laughed, telling herself that getting to know a real buccaneer would advance her professional knowledge.
“Aye, sweet lady, not a single thing.” He winked and then threw his head back and laughed.
“You ever kill anyone?” She nodded toward the rapier swinging in its scabbard at his side.
“I’m still walking and talking, and not every man I’ve met on the high seas can say that.”
That might have sounded grim, except for his lighthearted tone. Rita didn’t think he was bragging as much as he was laughing at himself. She wondered if he was even better with the sword than he had admitted.
Roland jerked his thumb, imitating her gesture, toward the big knife she had stuck into her sash. “You ever kill anyone?” He gave her a challenging smirk.
“Uh-well, I’m still walking and talking, too.” She smiled back.
“So you are, Rita. So you are.”
They walked in silence for a while. Every so often, Roland greeted someone he knew. Hunter was easy to follow, since he towered head and shoulders above everyone else.
While Hunter, Steve, and Jane moved ahead through the crowd, looking for MC 2, Rita considered just how lucky she was to be here.
No historians had ever before had the chance to visit the era of human history they loved most. Only Chad Mora, the paleontologist who had accompanied Hunter’s team to the age of dinosaurs, had been able to experience the time he had studied. She wondered if Roland had sailed on any ships she would remember studying.
“Roland-” She stopped suddenly, not sure what she wanted to ask. Questioning a buccaneer about his adventures might be extremely unwise, and even dangerous, no matter how charming he appeared.
“Yes, Rita?”
“Uh-well, I’m curious about your adventures. But I don’t want to pry into your affairs.”
“Ah! Curious about the buccaneering life, eh?” Roland grinned again. “Well, no need to be shy, sweet lady; you wouldn’t be the first.”
“Well…I didn’t think so.” She laughed, embarrassed. Since she couldn’t tell him why she was curious about him, she wasn’t sure what to say.
“So tell me, Rita,” Roland said lightly, with a wary glance at Hunter in front of them. “Would you like to get better acquainted, then? And learn the buccaneer life? See Port Royal as I know it?”
Rita knew in an instant that this was what she really wanted. She also realized that Hunter would object since he was so concerned about the First Law and the danger that she might change human history if she wasn’t careful. However, she simply did not share his belief that rather ordinary actions in this era of Jamaican history would ultimately matter. She reminded herself again that Port Royal would be drowned in an earthquake in just over twenty years.