Fool’s Gold

Description

Fool’s Gold – Mychael Black

Fool’s Gold 1

Locked in a jail cell in Port Royal, Captain Ian Bowers is awaiting what he imagines will be the loop of a hangman’s rope. Then a young man appears and breaks him out in exchange for Ian’s help to retrieve the hidden cache of the late Captain Jack Lords. Ian signs on, but he quickly discovers his young financier is far more than he seems. Ian finds himself reflecting on his time with Lords while falling for the man’s only son.

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EXCERPT:

“You would think swallowing the captain’s cock twice a day for a little over a year would have earned his trust, yet he still saw me as a rogue who only had eyes for the mountain of Spanish gold he had sacked away somewhere. It didn’t matter that it was true. It mattered that the trust of his peg didn’t equate to the trust of his horde.”

“Keep talking like that, and they’ll ’ave your head,” Earlin, one of my jailmates, said.

“And piracy gets me what? A slap on the wrist?”

Earlin just snorted and shuffled across the dirty floor, kicking at the bits of torn cloth and the occasional bone, most likely picked clean by the rodents with which we shared our cells. Thus ended our conversation, I assumed, and my woeful tale of sinful love. Well, maybe not love, so much as lust. I bore no ill feelings toward my former captain, but I certainly did not profess to love the man. When at sea, without women, men cared little as to what hole they fuck.

At least that is what I told myself over the years. Perhaps, I would eventually believe it.

“And what of the ol’ cap’n’s gold, eh?”

I glanced at my fellow prisoner. “Lot of good it will do you here.”

“I’s just curious,” the old man grumbled from his corner. He was far older than all of us. Definitely would never see the outside of his luxurious suite.

If I recalled correctly, ol’ Mathers, to my left, had lost his left eye to the tip of a sword and the right leg–from the knee, down–to a lead ball. Out of the four of us, I was the only one who retained full function of every bit of anatomy. So far.

I yawned and tipped my head back just enough to peer upside down at the barred window above my head. “Full moon tonight,” I observed quietly. Weird things happened during full moons, at least in my experience.

I heard Mathers grunt, the noise a familiar but nauseating warning. Then came the foul stench that usually followed. I caught my breath and stared at the moon, fighting the urge to breathe. When breath became a necessity, I gasped and sucked in a lungful of putrid air. I promptly gagged.

Dobson, to Earlin’s right, was much luckier than myself. The old sod had lost his sense of smell years before, though to what I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, really. He did find my discomfort amusing, however, and his cackles soon broke out, filling the stale air. I merely gave him a crude gesture, which only incited further outbursts of coughing fits of laughter.

Such was my plight as I waited for the governor to pass down my sentence. Branded as a pirate, I fully expected the rope.

What I did not expect was a rescuer.