won’t get to know it. Even if the news should get to the Court, there are no real proofs. What’s more, the Devil’s Triangle has always been considered as a legend.”
“You’re right about it.”
“And even if rumours should spread out about you paying a pirate crew, what could you be accused of for an engagement like that? The last member of Bellamy’s crew died a few hours ago.”
“So what?”
“The price we have agreed on is the right one.” Roger’s statement wanted to get the double aim of making his interlocutor calm down and focusing his attention on what he was going to say. “But I’ll demand eight parts out of one hundred, to ensure my loyalty and my men’s one.”
“You are crazy!”, Morgan burst out, looking as if he was going to faint.
“My mind hasn’t been more sane in all my life!"
“This is a theft!”
“Take it or leave it.”
“Let’s say four parts”, the governor proposed.
“You’re a mean man, Excellency.” The corsair shrugged. “You’re hurting my pride, when you consider me just four parts worth. Remember this: if the expedition is successful, you won’t even be forced to share the booty with the King.”
“Five parts, captain. And we’ll stop talking about it.”
“With just five parts, I can’t grant you that nobody will go around and tell this story.”
“So, let’s agree on six.”
“Seven!”
Morgan kept still, his elbows laying on the table and his fingers crossed before himself. “Okay”, he finally agreed. “Seven.”
“You are a wise man.” Rogers reached out his hand and waited for the other man to return his gesture, even if unwillingly. When Morgan did it, he held his hand tight, placing it on his own. “With your leave, I wish to advance one more request.”
“Another one?”
“After all these years spent serving the Crown, I think I deserve something more than a simple letter of marque. For that reason, I’d like to be rewarded by the allocation of some lands and by a title recognized by His Majesty.”
“Do you mean a political rise?”
“Exactly!”
“Independently of the expedition being profitable?”
Rogers nodded.
“As you wish”, Morgan finished, looking worn-out. “We’ll try to intercede for you at the Court.”
“Thank you.” The corsair let his hand go and walked away from the desk quickly. Before getting out, he stopped for some moments next to the door. “Each promise in an obligation. Always remember it, Excellency.”
And with those words, he disappeared.
***
Anne was sitting on the bed, her back leaning against the wall and her eyes staring at the window. She was holding a bowl of soup in her hands. Her hair was waving in the breeze preceding sunset, ruffled around her head. It didn’t look like a putrescent giant octopus anymore. On the contrary, it looked more like a haystack swept by the wind. Her face, even if still pale, was recovering a slight blush. The shadow of disease had vanished, at that moment at least.
“How are you?”, Johnny asked her as soon as he came back. He had been anxious all day long, excepted during Wynne’s execution. Watching that man die had filled him with a horror which had pushed back for a while his worries about his mother’s health.
“Tired”, she answered in a feeble voice. “Bartolomeu has been taking care of me while you were away. He was very kind. He made dinner for me. Look!” As if she wanted to prove something, she took the dipper hardly to her mouth.
“Let me do it”. The boy sat next to her and started to feed her. The smell of soup made his stomach rumble.
“Have you had dinner?”, Anne asked him.
“Of course”, he lied. He hadn’t touched any food since the previous evening. Still worse: the little food he had swallowed, had ended up in the lane after the rum the Portuguese had offered him.
He sometimes wiped the corners of her mouth by a cloth flap. Anne was smiling, trying hard to swallow her soup. When she had finished, he helped her to lie down.
“I don’t feel like sleeping”, the woman protested.
“You must rest.” Johnny addressed her a glance which brooked no argument.
She leant her head softly on the pillow. “That’s strange, isn’t it? I’ve always looked after you.”
“Don’t strain yourself by talking.”
“You know, I haven’t had a coughing fit since this morning.” It seemed as if Anne hadn’t heard him.
“You’ll get better and better, trust me.”
“I hope so.”
They kept silent for a while and Johnny started feeling guilty. As if he was held prisoner in a body which didn’t belong to him, he was forced to witness his mother’s illness helplessly. He watched her through a multicolour kaleidoscope, whose faces reflected pain and resignation. He understood at that moment that he wanted to get away, to run as far as possible, to avoid seeing her in that condition.
“You’d better rest”, he claimed. He took the bowl and the stirrer. “Bartolomeu might need me. Can I trust you and leave you alone?” Deep into his heart, he feared that she was going to ask him again to stay there.
Anne took him by surprise, saying innocently: “Just go and don’t worry. See you when you finish.”
“All right.”
“I love you, John.”
“Me too”, he answered. Then he bent down to kiss her on her forehead.
***
Johnny could see something hovering inside Bartolomeu’s brain all evening. He had said just a few words and Johnny had noticed it, in particular when he understood he was waiting for someone: he kept casting furtive glances at the door and every time someone opened it, he held his breath, almost worn out by that never ending wait. In spite of that, Johnny avoided investigating, being busy in serving the customers.
He was able to listen to some of their conversations, which drew his attention inevitably. And stirred his imagination once more. Some of them were commentating on Wynne’s horrible death, while others were saying that a certain captain Rogers was preparing a mysterious expedition.
After the last customer had left the inn, Bartolomeu ordered the boy to shut himself into the kitchen and do the washing
