Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 372 of 619

A captain sworn to silence was worth little without hands to sail the ship. Marcus needed a crew, and a crew meant four more strangers who would see the water and the walls. Ajax could not sail with them or watch them at every port. So he set his terms the next morning. Marcus would gather the sailors himself, at the port, from men he trusted. Marco would read each one before any of them boarded. Two days later they met at Tucker's bar. Marcus stood at the rail with four men behind him, all rough from the docks. "These four," Marcus said. "They sail. They keep quiet. That's all you need." He said it flat and stopped, the way he answered every question. Tucker leaned on the bar and poured. He had spent the morning drinking with the sailors, loosening them one at a time. "The tall one's run cargo he wasn't supposed to," Tucker said, dry. "The gray one owes money in two ports. Nobody here's a priest." He grinned. "But nobody's a snitch either, near as I can tell." Ajax looked at Marco. Marco stood in the corner, still, hearing what the men could not say. He worked down the line. One at a time he gave Ajax a small nod. Then he reached the gray-haired sailor and paused. Ajax caught it. "That one," Ajax said. Marco crossed the room and spoke low. "He's thinking of a harbor master he knows. A man who pays for word of hidden docks." Marco held the sailor's eyes. "He hasn't decided. But the thought is there." The room went quiet. Marcus turned and looked at his own man. He did not argue. "Cut him," Marcus said. "I'll find another." Ajax paid the gray sailor his coin and sent him to the door. At the threshold Marco touched the back of his neck. The man blinked, forgot the bar, forgot the meeting, and walked far from the port with no memory of it. By dusk Marcus brought a fifth man. Marco read him at the door, listened, and nodded once. Clean. Ajax swore the four into silence on silver, by the midnight fire, the same oath Marcus wore. Four chains settled on four hairy chests. They said the words. They sailed north, they came back, they named nothing. Ajax had his crew. The ship had hands enough to reach the merchant city and return. He watched the four men file to the bunkhouse with their new chains catching the lamplight. But he had learned something at the bar. Marco could read a man at a table, close enough to touch. Eight days out on open water, no reader stood at the rail. Marcus and four sworn men would carry his goods and his secret past every harbor he could not see.