Immortal War

“War or no war,” answered Mr. Mizzen, “certain ceremonies must be observed.”

Now Barbarro entered the fray. “My wife has a point,” he said. “We are somewhat late beginning and several of us are due at the Pirate Academy for a Council of War this evening.” Barbarro glanced carefully at Cate, then back to Mr. Mizzen. “I think we all want to ensure that we leave here in good sailing time.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Mizzen with a sigh. “I shall, as you say, cut to the chase.” He observed his audience through his spectacles with cool detachment. “Who gets what. Of course, that’s what you all came to find out.”

There was a moment or two of uncomfortable silence while Mr. Mizzen glanced down the scroll and then began to read once more.

“To my dear Ma Kettle, the most beautiful and exciting siren I ever had the good fortune to know across the Seven Seas. A goddess, who has been more of a comfort and balm to me over the years than she will ever know. To you, I leave the sum of five million…”

“Five million!” Trofie exclaimed loudly. To her exasperation, Barbarro was beaming broadly, as was Sugar Pie. Ma herself was speechless, her moist eyes trained on Mr. Mizzen as he continued.

“It was,” he read, “my hope that we would spend this money and our twilight years together but, if circumstances have decreed otherwise, then I see no reason why you, darling Ma, should not enjoy such comfort and pleasure as I can offer you. It is my one regret that I cannot be here to toast our future in oyster champagne.”

“Mine too,” said Ma, gratefully accepting the handkerchief proffered by Sugar Pie.

Mr. Mizzen reddened as he continued. “The very best of my days and nights—ahem—were those I spent with you. Remember to spend this money as recklessly as you know I would!”

This last sentiment prompted a throaty chuckle from Ma. She nodded, smiling. Sugar Pie reached out and clasped Ma’s hand in her own. “I knew he’d take care of you,” she said.

“He always did,” answered Ma, with a squeeze of her hand. “In his way.”

Mr. Mizzen’s tone now grew more businesslike. “Molucco did not specify whom he wished to look after his beloved pet, Scrimshaw, after his demise, but it seems, Madam Kettle, that you have taken this upon yourself?”

“Oh, yes,” said Ma with a nod. “Scrimshaw will always have a home at the tavern.” Her free hand stroked the snake’s scales tenderly. “We have a connection, me and Scrim. I, too, have shed many a skin in my time.”

“Well,” said Mr. Mizzen. “Molucco set aside a further ten thousand to cover Scrimshaw’s rather particular gastronomic tastes.”

“Ten thousand?” Trofie mouthed to Moonshine. “For pet food!” Moonshine grinned at his mother’s disbelief, then glanced over at Ma, who was nodding once more.

“Scrim shall never go short of honeyed dates or rosewater-dipped pistachios as long as he’s in my care,” she assured Mr. Mizzen.

The solicitor scanned Molucco’s will once more, then resumed reading with renewed vigor. Barbarro wondered whether he was imagining it or if Mr. Mizzen was actually trying to impersonate his dear departed brother.

“My ship, The Diablo, has been my home for many years—one of the few constants in my life. I have thought long and hard as to who should be the heir to my ship and I have decided to entrust it to my nephew, Moonshine Wrathe.”

All three attendant Wrathes listened carefully as Mr. Mizzen forged on. “Moonshine, I hope this ship is the making of you as a pirate captain. If rigging and cannon and old deck boards could talk, this old galleon would have plenty of tales to tell under my captaincy and—I’ve no doubt—under yours, too! Take good care of her, my boy. I trust you will make me proud.”

“Thanks, Uncle Luck,” said Moonshine breezily. “Though I’d have preferred a ship that wasn’t in Vampirate hands…”

“Presumably,” Trofie interrupted, lifting her veil as she addressed Mr. Mizzen, “the ship comes with a significant financial bequest?” Her ice-blue eyes bore into the lawyer’s.

“No doubt all will be revealed as we proceed,” said Mr. Mizzen firmly, turning from her. He was enjoying himself now, back in his stride.

“To Cate Morgan, who has served with me in varying capacities for the majority of her maritime career and proved herself to be one of the finest piratical minds of her generation. To Cate, I leave five million…”

“Another five million…?” Trofie’s golden hand gripped her husband’s arm. “Are you doing the math here? I don’t like the way this is stacking up…”

“To Cate,” Mr. Mizzen resumed more loudly, “I leave five million, but with a small condition attached. I have gifted The Diablo to my nephew Moonshine, and it is my hope that this ship will be the making of him—but timber and sailcloth alone cannot accomplish a task of this magnitude. Cate, I had the great privilege to know you as my deputy aboard The Diablo. Now I ask you to resume that position, as deputy to Moonshine, for a period of three years. That should be sufficient to give him the support and grounding he needs. I hope you might stay on for longer than that, but, even if you choose not to, at the end of the three years, my gift of five million will be yours.”

Barbarro laughed. “I’m sorry, Cate,” he said. “I’m not laughing at you. Just thinking how my brother was an inveterate deal-maker to the very end.”

“And beyond,” Cate said. She could feel both Trofie’s and Moonshine’s eyes upon her. No doubt, they were trying to read her thoughts and emotions. She studiously avoided glancing their way, looking instead directly at Mr. Mizzen.

“May I take some time to consider this proposition?” she asked.

Mr. Mizzen nodded. “Captain Wrathe allowed for that. He knew that you would want to weigh the pros and cons.”

“Pros and cons!” snapped Trofie with irritation. She felt her husband’s warning touch. It drew out some of her sting. “Well, really! He’s given her a fortune and all she has to do is mentor our son.” Barbarro was silent but reflected that, in Molucco’s position, he might have upped the ante still further to sweeten the deal.

“To my dear brother Barbarro,” Mr. Mizzen continued, “I leave you… nothing.”

Nothing. The word seemed to ricochet around the conference room. The tension and surprise were almost audible.

“I leave you nothing,” repeated Mr. Mizzen, “because you are as wealthy as me in your own right, and there are others who will benefit far more from a leg up. I trust you will not think ill of me on this account. Brother Barbarro, it was one of the deepest sadnesses of my life to lose our brother Porfirio. And one of the greatest joys to be reunited with you in the twilight of my days. We wasted so much time. I learned the lesson, but a little late, that blood is thicker than all the oceans.”

As Mr. Mizzen paused to draw breath, Trofie inquired, “Is there a personal message to me?”

“Only this,” said Mr. Mizzen pointedly, as he cleared his throat and found his place once more. “My precious family, my dear, dear friends, if you have been doing your sums—and knowing certain amongst you, no doubt you have—you will know that there is still the whale’s share of my fortune to apportion. My accountants can confirm the total sum, though I estimate it to be in the region of…”

“Twenty-eight million!” Trofie finished the sentence for him.

“Twenty-eight million, eight hundred thousand,” corrected Mr. Mizzen with a smile. “And I am passing on this wealth, which I have built over many years and all seven of the oceans, to my friend, Connor Tempest.”

All eyes turned to Connor. Both Moonshine’s and Barbarro’s faces registered surprise. Trofie looked in urgent need of medical help. Ma Kettle was smiling, as was Sugar Pie. Cate’s expression was harder to decipher. As for Connor himself, he had no idea how to respond to what he had just been told. When he’d been asked to come to this office, he had expected to leave with a token gift—if that. His last meetings with Molucco had been awkward, and the captain had left him in no doubt that any relationship they had once enjoyed was now over. Yet, according to Mr. Mizzen, he was about to inherit nearly thirty million. The figure was so far beyond his reality that his brain was simply numb.

“Connor,” read Mr. Mizzen, “I’m sure this comes as a surprise to you. To be honest, it’s something of a surprise to me. You came into my life by chance and soon became a valued member of my crew. But, more than that, my lad, you became the son I never had. Because of the deep affection I felt for you, you had the power very