voice exploding like a blazing cannon shot, eyes burning bright with anger, “That is quite enough! Kapitän Clark! Stand down!”
John “Black Jack” Clark’s eyes flicked in Wilhelm’s direction. Clark licked his lips uneasily a moment, then glanced back at Hunter.
“Where’s yer doctor at?” Clark asked with a snake-like grin.
“Who?” Hunter replied with a bemused smirk.
“Ya know bloody well who!” The scarred man retorted sharply. “Where I see one of ya, the other’s not far away!”
“Herr Clark!” Wilhelm snarled like an angry dog. “You will stand down!” The German captain leaned forward on the table with the look of an enraged bull about to charge. “Look around you, ja? Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Clark’s eyes flicked upwards to the second floor of the pub. Ten figures crouched behind tables, with guns pointed down at him. He briefly turned a shade pale.
“Just … brilliant,” he swore under his breath. “Didn’t think about the second floor.” With a dark look, he relaxed his grip, slowly dropping his pistol into the holster at his belt. Then, suddenly, he turned on a broad smile.
“Well now, no need for all that fuss. Just funnin’ a bit,” John Clark said. “Besides, I just wanted ta see Thorias.” He shrugged awkwardly, “only ta know how the old bean’s doin’, eh? No harm’s done, eh?”
“What? No harm done?” Moira hissed in a low voice, taking better aim at the scarred captain.
“Moira,” Krumer whispered, “stand fast.”
The blacksmith frowned, glaring at Clark, but complied.
Wilhelm stood up straight, folding his arms over his chest with a stormy look at the erratic captain across the room. “Harm? One of your own crew has been shot! Ja, I call that harm! Have you lost your wits?”
Clark rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oi, well, there’s that.” He glanced overto his right, swatting one of the sailors standing next to him. “What’re ya standing around for? Step lively, eh? Fetch a doctor. We got a wounded man bleedin’ all over.” The scarred captain glanced over to Hunter, “pity Thorias isn’t nearby, he’d deal with it straight off.”
“Quite,” Hunter replied coolly.
Startled from being swatted, the sailor – a tall, young man in a brown long coat with rumpled brown hair – nodded with a mildly confused look. “Oh, er … aye Cap’n! Right away!”Pushing aside his coat to drop his pistol into its holster, the man raced out the door of the pub.
Clark gestured to the wounded man on the floor, “Right then. Now, the rest of ya get him into a chair. Blimey, do I gotta do this myself?”
The other sailors surrounding Clark exchanged a cautious glance, then holstered their weapons. Gathering around the sailor on the floor, they eased the wounded man up and into a nearby chair. All around the pub, tensions slowly drained down to a dull murmur.
Meanwhile, Clark turned around to face Captain Wilhelm with a graceful bow. “There and done, my Cap’n. And to the rest me humblest apologies. Just had a ill moment, I get them these days y’know. Lot on me mind, I suppose. I tell ya what, I’ll buy ya all a drink, just ta show no hard feelin’s, eh?” With another of his wide grins, Clark turned to saunter away to the bar where he ordered a round of drinks for Captain Wilhelm’s table.
“A drink with him?” Conor O’Fallon spat, “I’d sooner be kissin’ a cow.”
Moira’s eyes were red hot, filled to the brim with temper. “I won’t drink with ‘im! Not with some bat-arse crazy loon. A drink don’t make up for it!”
“Captain, your niece is quite right.” Captain Hunter said hotly, “A drink and an apology? An explanation is more proper, I’d say!”
Klaus watched Clark carefully a moment before he slowly resumed his seat. He frowned thoughtfully. The others at the table followed suit, with an uneasy air hanging above them.
“Mein apologies. Mein most deepest
John “Black Jack” Clark’s eyes flicked in Wilhelm’s direction. Clark licked his lips uneasily a moment, then glanced back at Hunter.
“Where’s yer doctor at?” Clark asked with a snake-like grin.
“Who?” Hunter replied with a bemused smirk.
“Ya know bloody well who!” The scarred man retorted sharply. “Where I see one of ya, the other’s not far away!”
“Herr Clark!” Wilhelm snarled like an angry dog. “You will stand down!” The German captain leaned forward on the table with the look of an enraged bull about to charge. “Look around you, ja? Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Clark’s eyes flicked upwards to the second floor of the pub. Ten figures crouched behind tables, with guns pointed down at him. He briefly turned a shade pale.
“Just … brilliant,” he swore under his breath. “Didn’t think about the second floor.” With a dark look, he relaxed his grip, slowly dropping his pistol into the holster at his belt. Then, suddenly, he turned on a broad smile.
“Well now, no need for all that fuss. Just funnin’ a bit,” John Clark said. “Besides, I just wanted ta see Thorias.” He shrugged awkwardly, “only ta know how the old bean’s doin’, eh? No harm’s done, eh?”
“What? No harm done?” Moira hissed in a low voice, taking better aim at the scarred captain.
“Moira,” Krumer whispered, “stand fast.”
The blacksmith frowned, glaring at Clark, but complied.
Wilhelm stood up straight, folding his arms over his chest with a stormy look at the erratic captain across the room. “Harm? One of your own crew has been shot! Ja, I call that harm! Have you lost your wits?”
Clark rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oi, well, there’s that.” He glanced overto his right, swatting one of the sailors standing next to him. “What’re ya standing around for? Step lively, eh? Fetch a doctor. We got a wounded man bleedin’ all over.” The scarred captain glanced over to Hunter, “pity Thorias isn’t nearby, he’d deal with it straight off.”
“Quite,” Hunter replied coolly.
Startled from being swatted, the sailor – a tall, young man in a brown long coat with rumpled brown hair – nodded with a mildly confused look. “Oh, er … aye Cap’n! Right away!”Pushing aside his coat to drop his pistol into its holster, the man raced out the door of the pub.
Clark gestured to the wounded man on the floor, “Right then. Now, the rest of ya get him into a chair. Blimey, do I gotta do this myself?”
The other sailors surrounding Clark exchanged a cautious glance, then holstered their weapons. Gathering around the sailor on the floor, they eased the wounded man up and into a nearby chair. All around the pub, tensions slowly drained down to a dull murmur.
Meanwhile, Clark turned around to face Captain Wilhelm with a graceful bow. “There and done, my Cap’n. And to the rest me humblest apologies. Just had a ill moment, I get them these days y’know. Lot on me mind, I suppose. I tell ya what, I’ll buy ya all a drink, just ta show no hard feelin’s, eh?” With another of his wide grins, Clark turned to saunter away to the bar where he ordered a round of drinks for Captain Wilhelm’s table.
“A drink with him?” Conor O’Fallon spat, “I’d sooner be kissin’ a cow.”
Moira’s eyes were red hot, filled to the brim with temper. “I won’t drink with ‘im! Not with some bat-arse crazy loon. A drink don’t make up for it!”
“Captain, your niece is quite right.” Captain Hunter said hotly, “A drink and an apology? An explanation is more proper, I’d say!”
Klaus watched Clark carefully a moment before he slowly resumed his seat. He frowned thoughtfully. The others at the table followed suit, with an uneasy air hanging above them.
“Mein apologies. Mein most deepest
Similar Books
