Fic: 'Hero' (4/6)
More of 'Hero', and again my profound thanks to my tireless beta, hereswith.
Chapter One: Caught Out
Chapter Two: Pirate Princeling
Chapter Three: A Disparity of Circumstances
Chapter Four: Vile Misfortune
Jamie blamed it on the full moon, a superstition he had picked up from Gibbs. "Moonmadness, aye, I've seen it often and often," Gibbs would say. "'Specially on a long voyage. Never know what mischief or misfortune'll befall a man at the full moon." Uncle Jack usually scoffed at this. "Sure it's the moon. She's wide shoulders. She'll take the blame and not a peep out of her." But it had to have been the moon, for how else could so many things go so wrong in one day?
It started out small. Jamie and Gil woke just before dawn, and Jamie got up from the warm bed to go look out the window of Gil's bedroom. Mist lay silver over the grounds of the house and the fields beyond, and then turned to pale gold as the sun peeked over the edge of the hills.
Gil came up beside him. "Let's get dressed and go down. Marta promised to make us calas for breakfast."
"What are those?" Jamie asked.
"Fried rice cakes. Let's go, but be quiet! We don't want to wake my mother and father."
Jamie complied, and soon they were tiptoeing past Gil's parents' room and down the staircase. But when they reached the kitchen they found a minor disaster: the kitchen boy had stumbled over the threshold and dropped the whole basket of eggs he'd gathered, creating a huge mess and eliminating the possibility of calas . "I'm sorry, Master Gilbert," said Marta. "Sixteen of 'em! I shudder to think what your papa's going to say about porridge instead of calas, but it can't be helped."
"Porridge is fine, ma'am," Jamie said. "That's what I have most days."
But Gil said, grumpily, "I hate porridge. I'll just have toast with jam, and some buttermilk."
Marta obligingly indulged the young master, though it took more time to prepare two different breakfasts -- particularly when she burned the first batch of toast. "Lordy, I don't know what's the matter with me today," she muttered.
Gil rolled his eyes in silent derision at this, but Jamie gave him a surreptitious kick under the table -- it was never wise to show disrespect for the cook. And then, ten minutes later, Gil was reaching for a slice of the second batch of toast and managed to knock over his full glass of buttermilk.
Jamie attempted not to laugh, but failed. Marta was definitely not laughing for she had to clean it up. And Gil was suddenly in a temper.
"This is stupid. Let's go." He pushed away from the table.
"I've only finished half of mine," Jamie objected. "And you haven't eaten at all."
"We'll eat later -- come on! We're wasting time!"
"Sorry, ma'am," Jamie said to Marta, feeling torn about leaving her to deal with still another mess.
"Come on!" Gil snapped at Jamie.
"You get on now," Marta said, but gave Jamie a quick smile.
The morning was a fine one, weather-wise, and the plan was to spend it fishing in what Gil called the New Thames, a wide stream that ran tree-shaded across the edge of the Pennistone property. Jamie was expecting something quite grand, considering its name, for he had seen the actual river Thames a few years back, but he was surprised to discover how small it was. Still, it seemed a pleasant enough spot for fishing, and Gil's temper had improved in the trek over to it. Paki had come with them as bearer, carrying the fishing poles, and when Gil mourned the lack of breakfast, the slave passed his master some of the corn cakes his mother had made and wrapped up for him to bring along. Content after consuming this simple provender, Gil joined Jamie and Paki in digging for worms, then all three settled down to fish.
An hour later they had yet to get even a nibble. "Not that I'm complaining," Jamie said, mildly, "but this is more just washing a line than actual fishing."
"Can't understand it," said Gil. "I usually have good luck here! We'll wait another half hour and if we don't get anything by then we'll go back."
"Fair enough," Jamie agreed.
Twenty minutes later Paki got the only bite of the day -- and one that bowed the pole right to the water!
"A big one! Hang on to it, Paki!" yelled Gill and set his own pole on the grass to go help.
Jamie looked at the water and could see something big and dark moving beneath the surface. "What is that? Gil... I don't think..."
"What? Don't let him go, Paki! Here..."
Gil waded into the water to grab the line, and Jamie watched, his hair on end, expecting disaster, and sure enough! A shape round and black and spiked exploded from the water. All three boys yelled in fright, and Gil in pain as well, for he couldn't move fast enough to entirely avoid the monster.
"Snapper!" yelped Paki, throwing the pole at it and backing away. "Gil, are you all right?"
"Yes, I think so -- he didn't take a chunk out of me, at least. That was the biggest snapping turtle I've ever seen!"
"Let me look at your leg," said Jamie. Gil obliged, wincing as Jamie drew down his torn stocking and washed away the blood. "Just some shallow cuts. But aren't turtles..."
"Poison!" Paki completed Jamie's thought, his eyes wide.
Gil paled a little.
"Is that true?" asked Jamie. "Thought I'd heard that, but it didn't bite you. I don't know much about snappers -- sea turtles, yes..."
"Let's go home," said Gil, sounding scared.
They picked up the two remaining poles -- Paki's had been lost to the monster, which had indeed been well hooked -- and started back to the house, grim and silent.
When they were halfway there, to their vast relief, they met Jamie's uncle, rounding a bend and swaying toward them on the path.
"Uncle Jack!" yipped Jamie, and ran to him.
"Givin' up so soon, lads? I was just coming to see what luck you were having."
"Bad luck!" Jamie averred. "Gil's hurt!"
"Is he?" Uncle Jack frowned, and crouched as the other two boys came up and stopped. "I noticed the limp," he told Gil. "What the devil did this? Let's have a look."
"Snapper," Gil said tightly, steeling himself as Jack carefully examined the wound.
Jamie caught Gil's hand and squeezed hard. "It was a monster snapping turtle, all spikes and ripples of horn on its back! Paki says they're poisonous. Are they, Uncle Jack?"
"Not as such," Uncle Jack said. "Can make you devilish ill, though. Keep hold of his hand, Jamie. I've me flask, and a clean handkerchief to bind it when it's washed." He squinted up at Gil. "Don't want to discourage you, but this'll hurt like blazes. Are you ready?"
Gil nodded, set his teeth and squeezed Jamie's hand right back. He gasped once, at the first touch of the spirits on the open wound, but made no other sound, though there were tears on his cheeks by the time it was over and the wound bound.
"There, all finished and neat as a pin," Uncle Jack said, giving the knot a final tweak before rising.
"You were brave as anything, Gil!" Jamie assured him. Jamie's hand was released and he flapped it some, trying to get the feeling back into it.
Gil laughed shakily, and swiped his damp cheeks with his sleeve.
"You all right, Master Gil?" said Paki in a small voice, still holding the fishing poles, a few feet away.
"Aye," Gil reassured him.
Uncle Jack nodded. "Let's get back, then. There was a late breakfast bein' laid out, and calas on the menu. Seems they sent to the town for eggs." He winked, his smile glinting gold.
*
Uncle Jack's handiwork was pronounced first rate by Gil's parents, and Mr. Pennistone sent men to catch "the brute" that had harmed his boy. The meal, complete with outstanding calas, restored the boys' spirits entirely, and the sun shone on the remainder of the afternoon, literally and metaphorically, as Uncle Jack would say. A price for the brandy having been agreed upon, they went down to the bay to supervise as the goods were transferred from the Black Pearl. Then Gil insisted that Jamie should come riding with him.
"Better you than me, lad," Uncle Jack said with a grimace.
Jamie laughed, remembering when they had visited mother's cousin in England and Uncle Jack had been persuaded to ride to hounds. "Bloody near crippled me," Jack had sworn after, and had advised Jamie against horses ever since. But though Jamie didn't ride often, he enjoyed it when he had the opportunity, and he was nothing loth now.
Gil gave Jamie his gentle old pony, and took his mother's smallish gray mare for himself. Then they rode all over the west side of the island, including the town, where Jamie ran across Pintel and Ragetti and some of the others coming out of a shop.
Pintel told Gil, with a waggle of brows, "Your da's given us a whole pig. Capt'n Jack says we kin 'ave an 'ooley on the beach tonight."
Ragetti chuckled and nodded in gleeful anticipation, but then assumed a saddened air. "Too bad you two'll be dinin' formal like."
Pintel laughed. "Aye! Mind yer manners, lads, use your napkins, an' the right forks, an' don't forget to lift yer pinkies like proper little gentlemen!"
Jamie grinned, but when they were away he said to Gil, "I wish we could go to the pig-roast."
"A real pirate party! So do I. But I doubt father would let me."
So it proved. An hour later, when they'd stabled the horses, they were immediately directed to go wash and dress for dinner. Both Uncle Jack and Mr. Gibbs were to attend, and Marta had gone to great trouble to make a feast of many courses.
"No roast pig, though," Jamie complained in an aside to his uncle.
Jack shushed him, but with a smirk. "How can hot, salty roast pork, sizzlin' and drippin' with fat, compare to this lot, eh?"
Jamie groaned, his mouth watering, but Jack nudged him with a sly elbow and he obediently fell silent and attended to the plate before him.
It was a long, very formal meal, as Pintel had predicted, and the day was gone by the end of it, every candle in the dining room ablaze. Uncle Jack and Mr. Gibbs excused themselves as soon as it was over. "I'll just go check on the lads," Jack said. "Make sure they're behavin' an' all."
"Aye," agreed Gibbs, burping slightly. "Pardon me, ma'am. A fine dinner!"
"I hope you enjoyed it, Captain Sparrow?" asked Gil's mother, who'd noticed the small portions Uncle Jack had taken.
"Fit for the gods!" he reassured her. He bowed over the lady's hand, and gave her that look of his. Jamie managed not to laugh, but it was a near thing, what with Gil meeting his eye and looking quizzical.
Mrs. Pennistone fluttered, cheeks pink. "Oh, Captain! It's been a great pleasure to meet you!"
"You're too good, ma'am."
He gave Jamie a conspiratorial wink as he bid him goodnight. "We'll be off on the tide in the mornin', lad. Be on the beach with your kit by seven sharp."
"I will," said Jamie. He whispered, "Save me some pork, aye?"
"Bloody hell I will!" Jack whispered back, then added, "Pardon me French," and glanced around as though to check that Jamie's mother wasn't eying him askance from the shadows.
*
Since Mr. and Mrs. Pennistone retired soon after dinner, Gil and Jamie did so, too, though they planned to stay up as late as they could manage, playing games and talking. Paki stayed as well, joining in with enthusiasm. It was enough to keep Gil happy for an hour or so, but then he grew restless and wandered over to the window. "I've an idea," he said, and a slow smile lit his face. "Let's have us a pipe!"
"A what?" Jamie asked, coming up beside him.
"Smoking!" Paki sounded dismayed. "Master Gil, your da--"
"He'll never know, Paki. They're asleep, wth everyone else. This year's tobacco's just now ready to ship out -- your uncle's taking some as payment, Jamie. Let's do it. I'll go get some pipes from my father's study."
Jamie frowned. His mother didn't approve of him smoking -- not that he'd done more than try it with his uncle, or with Captain Teague. But he didn't like using such an excuse with Gil. "I'm not so fond of tobacco," he said, instead.
"You haven't tried ours! It's the best in the Caribbean," Gil asserted. "Come on. And be quiet."
They donned their clothes and went downstairs again, quiet as mice in the darkness. Gil slipped into his father's study, and presently emerged with two pipes and a silver flask. "Brandy. Need something to take the edge off the pain in my leg."
"Is it bad?" Jamie asked. It hadn't seemed to bother Gil all afternoon.
"Terrible bad!" Gil said, but there was a chuckle in his voice.
He led Jamie and Paki out of the house and across to the farthest of three big storage sheds, wherein lay the bales of tobacco, ready for market. "A ship from Havana's coming in another week."
"You trade with the Spanish?" asked Jamie, surprised.
"Aye. They give the best price." Gil let them inside the shed, redolent of the cured leaf, and, after turning up the flame on the oil lamp he'd brought, closed the door.
As Gil prepared the pipes for smoking, they passed the flask around between the three of them -- Gil coughed at the burn of it, as did Paki, but Jamie didn't ("Pirate!" he said hoarsely to the admiring Gil, and laughed). Then the three settled down comfortably to share the two pipes between them, their backs against the wall of brown bales. Jamie didn't find the tobacco to his taste, in spite of Gil's praise, but he persevered as his uncle always had seemed so fond of the habit. But by the time they'd smoked both pipes, Jamie was feeling rather ill.
"Another?" Gil asked. "Or have you had enough?"
"No!" lied Jamie. "It's good!"
Gil expertly knocked the dottle from each pipe and began to refill them, taking his time and emoting on the benefits of tobacco and the excellence of Pennistone Leaf in particular. Jamie and Paki were both rather quiet, and almost somnolent through this, sipping from the flask occasionally, until finally Gil was finished and Jamie glanced at him to find smoke curling up from where the smoldering dottle had fallen, and the flick of a red flame.
"Gil, behind you!" Jamie said, struggling up. Paki gasped and leapt to his feet. And Gil, seeing their fear, whipped about and, in doing so, accidentally knocked the oil lamp from the bale he'd set it upon.
All three boys cried out in horror as the oil splashed upon the flame, and the glass broke. For a moment they were plunged into darkness.
"Is it out?" Gil asked, hopefully.
And then with a sort of whoosh the fire sprang up anew, big and spreading as the oil had spread. The boys yelled in dismay again, tore off their jackets and beat upon the flames, but to no avail.
The shed was afire.
TBC
Chapter One: Caught Out
Chapter Two: Pirate Princeling
Chapter Three: A Disparity of Circumstances
Chapter Four: Vile Misfortune
Jamie blamed it on the full moon, a superstition he had picked up from Gibbs. "Moonmadness, aye, I've seen it often and often," Gibbs would say. "'Specially on a long voyage. Never know what mischief or misfortune'll befall a man at the full moon." Uncle Jack usually scoffed at this. "Sure it's the moon. She's wide shoulders. She'll take the blame and not a peep out of her." But it had to have been the moon, for how else could so many things go so wrong in one day?
It started out small. Jamie and Gil woke just before dawn, and Jamie got up from the warm bed to go look out the window of Gil's bedroom. Mist lay silver over the grounds of the house and the fields beyond, and then turned to pale gold as the sun peeked over the edge of the hills.
Gil came up beside him. "Let's get dressed and go down. Marta promised to make us calas for breakfast."
"What are those?" Jamie asked.
"Fried rice cakes. Let's go, but be quiet! We don't want to wake my mother and father."
Jamie complied, and soon they were tiptoeing past Gil's parents' room and down the staircase. But when they reached the kitchen they found a minor disaster: the kitchen boy had stumbled over the threshold and dropped the whole basket of eggs he'd gathered, creating a huge mess and eliminating the possibility of calas . "I'm sorry, Master Gilbert," said Marta. "Sixteen of 'em! I shudder to think what your papa's going to say about porridge instead of calas, but it can't be helped."
"Porridge is fine, ma'am," Jamie said. "That's what I have most days."
But Gil said, grumpily, "I hate porridge. I'll just have toast with jam, and some buttermilk."
Marta obligingly indulged the young master, though it took more time to prepare two different breakfasts -- particularly when she burned the first batch of toast. "Lordy, I don't know what's the matter with me today," she muttered.
Gil rolled his eyes in silent derision at this, but Jamie gave him a surreptitious kick under the table -- it was never wise to show disrespect for the cook. And then, ten minutes later, Gil was reaching for a slice of the second batch of toast and managed to knock over his full glass of buttermilk.
Jamie attempted not to laugh, but failed. Marta was definitely not laughing for she had to clean it up. And Gil was suddenly in a temper.
"This is stupid. Let's go." He pushed away from the table.
"I've only finished half of mine," Jamie objected. "And you haven't eaten at all."
"We'll eat later -- come on! We're wasting time!"
"Sorry, ma'am," Jamie said to Marta, feeling torn about leaving her to deal with still another mess.
"Come on!" Gil snapped at Jamie.
"You get on now," Marta said, but gave Jamie a quick smile.
The morning was a fine one, weather-wise, and the plan was to spend it fishing in what Gil called the New Thames, a wide stream that ran tree-shaded across the edge of the Pennistone property. Jamie was expecting something quite grand, considering its name, for he had seen the actual river Thames a few years back, but he was surprised to discover how small it was. Still, it seemed a pleasant enough spot for fishing, and Gil's temper had improved in the trek over to it. Paki had come with them as bearer, carrying the fishing poles, and when Gil mourned the lack of breakfast, the slave passed his master some of the corn cakes his mother had made and wrapped up for him to bring along. Content after consuming this simple provender, Gil joined Jamie and Paki in digging for worms, then all three settled down to fish.
An hour later they had yet to get even a nibble. "Not that I'm complaining," Jamie said, mildly, "but this is more just washing a line than actual fishing."
"Can't understand it," said Gil. "I usually have good luck here! We'll wait another half hour and if we don't get anything by then we'll go back."
"Fair enough," Jamie agreed.
Twenty minutes later Paki got the only bite of the day -- and one that bowed the pole right to the water!
"A big one! Hang on to it, Paki!" yelled Gill and set his own pole on the grass to go help.
Jamie looked at the water and could see something big and dark moving beneath the surface. "What is that? Gil... I don't think..."
"What? Don't let him go, Paki! Here..."
Gil waded into the water to grab the line, and Jamie watched, his hair on end, expecting disaster, and sure enough! A shape round and black and spiked exploded from the water. All three boys yelled in fright, and Gil in pain as well, for he couldn't move fast enough to entirely avoid the monster.
"Snapper!" yelped Paki, throwing the pole at it and backing away. "Gil, are you all right?"
"Yes, I think so -- he didn't take a chunk out of me, at least. That was the biggest snapping turtle I've ever seen!"
"Let me look at your leg," said Jamie. Gil obliged, wincing as Jamie drew down his torn stocking and washed away the blood. "Just some shallow cuts. But aren't turtles..."
"Poison!" Paki completed Jamie's thought, his eyes wide.
Gil paled a little.
"Is that true?" asked Jamie. "Thought I'd heard that, but it didn't bite you. I don't know much about snappers -- sea turtles, yes..."
"Let's go home," said Gil, sounding scared.
They picked up the two remaining poles -- Paki's had been lost to the monster, which had indeed been well hooked -- and started back to the house, grim and silent.
When they were halfway there, to their vast relief, they met Jamie's uncle, rounding a bend and swaying toward them on the path.
"Uncle Jack!" yipped Jamie, and ran to him.
"Givin' up so soon, lads? I was just coming to see what luck you were having."
"Bad luck!" Jamie averred. "Gil's hurt!"
"Is he?" Uncle Jack frowned, and crouched as the other two boys came up and stopped. "I noticed the limp," he told Gil. "What the devil did this? Let's have a look."
"Snapper," Gil said tightly, steeling himself as Jack carefully examined the wound.
Jamie caught Gil's hand and squeezed hard. "It was a monster snapping turtle, all spikes and ripples of horn on its back! Paki says they're poisonous. Are they, Uncle Jack?"
"Not as such," Uncle Jack said. "Can make you devilish ill, though. Keep hold of his hand, Jamie. I've me flask, and a clean handkerchief to bind it when it's washed." He squinted up at Gil. "Don't want to discourage you, but this'll hurt like blazes. Are you ready?"
Gil nodded, set his teeth and squeezed Jamie's hand right back. He gasped once, at the first touch of the spirits on the open wound, but made no other sound, though there were tears on his cheeks by the time it was over and the wound bound.
"There, all finished and neat as a pin," Uncle Jack said, giving the knot a final tweak before rising.
"You were brave as anything, Gil!" Jamie assured him. Jamie's hand was released and he flapped it some, trying to get the feeling back into it.
Gil laughed shakily, and swiped his damp cheeks with his sleeve.
"You all right, Master Gil?" said Paki in a small voice, still holding the fishing poles, a few feet away.
"Aye," Gil reassured him.
Uncle Jack nodded. "Let's get back, then. There was a late breakfast bein' laid out, and calas on the menu. Seems they sent to the town for eggs." He winked, his smile glinting gold.
*
Uncle Jack's handiwork was pronounced first rate by Gil's parents, and Mr. Pennistone sent men to catch "the brute" that had harmed his boy. The meal, complete with outstanding calas, restored the boys' spirits entirely, and the sun shone on the remainder of the afternoon, literally and metaphorically, as Uncle Jack would say. A price for the brandy having been agreed upon, they went down to the bay to supervise as the goods were transferred from the Black Pearl. Then Gil insisted that Jamie should come riding with him.
"Better you than me, lad," Uncle Jack said with a grimace.
Jamie laughed, remembering when they had visited mother's cousin in England and Uncle Jack had been persuaded to ride to hounds. "Bloody near crippled me," Jack had sworn after, and had advised Jamie against horses ever since. But though Jamie didn't ride often, he enjoyed it when he had the opportunity, and he was nothing loth now.
Gil gave Jamie his gentle old pony, and took his mother's smallish gray mare for himself. Then they rode all over the west side of the island, including the town, where Jamie ran across Pintel and Ragetti and some of the others coming out of a shop.
Pintel told Gil, with a waggle of brows, "Your da's given us a whole pig. Capt'n Jack says we kin 'ave an 'ooley on the beach tonight."
Ragetti chuckled and nodded in gleeful anticipation, but then assumed a saddened air. "Too bad you two'll be dinin' formal like."
Pintel laughed. "Aye! Mind yer manners, lads, use your napkins, an' the right forks, an' don't forget to lift yer pinkies like proper little gentlemen!"
Jamie grinned, but when they were away he said to Gil, "I wish we could go to the pig-roast."
"A real pirate party! So do I. But I doubt father would let me."
So it proved. An hour later, when they'd stabled the horses, they were immediately directed to go wash and dress for dinner. Both Uncle Jack and Mr. Gibbs were to attend, and Marta had gone to great trouble to make a feast of many courses.
"No roast pig, though," Jamie complained in an aside to his uncle.
Jack shushed him, but with a smirk. "How can hot, salty roast pork, sizzlin' and drippin' with fat, compare to this lot, eh?"
Jamie groaned, his mouth watering, but Jack nudged him with a sly elbow and he obediently fell silent and attended to the plate before him.
It was a long, very formal meal, as Pintel had predicted, and the day was gone by the end of it, every candle in the dining room ablaze. Uncle Jack and Mr. Gibbs excused themselves as soon as it was over. "I'll just go check on the lads," Jack said. "Make sure they're behavin' an' all."
"Aye," agreed Gibbs, burping slightly. "Pardon me, ma'am. A fine dinner!"
"I hope you enjoyed it, Captain Sparrow?" asked Gil's mother, who'd noticed the small portions Uncle Jack had taken.
"Fit for the gods!" he reassured her. He bowed over the lady's hand, and gave her that look of his. Jamie managed not to laugh, but it was a near thing, what with Gil meeting his eye and looking quizzical.
Mrs. Pennistone fluttered, cheeks pink. "Oh, Captain! It's been a great pleasure to meet you!"
"You're too good, ma'am."
He gave Jamie a conspiratorial wink as he bid him goodnight. "We'll be off on the tide in the mornin', lad. Be on the beach with your kit by seven sharp."
"I will," said Jamie. He whispered, "Save me some pork, aye?"
"Bloody hell I will!" Jack whispered back, then added, "Pardon me French," and glanced around as though to check that Jamie's mother wasn't eying him askance from the shadows.
*
Since Mr. and Mrs. Pennistone retired soon after dinner, Gil and Jamie did so, too, though they planned to stay up as late as they could manage, playing games and talking. Paki stayed as well, joining in with enthusiasm. It was enough to keep Gil happy for an hour or so, but then he grew restless and wandered over to the window. "I've an idea," he said, and a slow smile lit his face. "Let's have us a pipe!"
"A what?" Jamie asked, coming up beside him.
"Smoking!" Paki sounded dismayed. "Master Gil, your da--"
"He'll never know, Paki. They're asleep, wth everyone else. This year's tobacco's just now ready to ship out -- your uncle's taking some as payment, Jamie. Let's do it. I'll go get some pipes from my father's study."
Jamie frowned. His mother didn't approve of him smoking -- not that he'd done more than try it with his uncle, or with Captain Teague. But he didn't like using such an excuse with Gil. "I'm not so fond of tobacco," he said, instead.
"You haven't tried ours! It's the best in the Caribbean," Gil asserted. "Come on. And be quiet."
They donned their clothes and went downstairs again, quiet as mice in the darkness. Gil slipped into his father's study, and presently emerged with two pipes and a silver flask. "Brandy. Need something to take the edge off the pain in my leg."
"Is it bad?" Jamie asked. It hadn't seemed to bother Gil all afternoon.
"Terrible bad!" Gil said, but there was a chuckle in his voice.
He led Jamie and Paki out of the house and across to the farthest of three big storage sheds, wherein lay the bales of tobacco, ready for market. "A ship from Havana's coming in another week."
"You trade with the Spanish?" asked Jamie, surprised.
"Aye. They give the best price." Gil let them inside the shed, redolent of the cured leaf, and, after turning up the flame on the oil lamp he'd brought, closed the door.
As Gil prepared the pipes for smoking, they passed the flask around between the three of them -- Gil coughed at the burn of it, as did Paki, but Jamie didn't ("Pirate!" he said hoarsely to the admiring Gil, and laughed). Then the three settled down comfortably to share the two pipes between them, their backs against the wall of brown bales. Jamie didn't find the tobacco to his taste, in spite of Gil's praise, but he persevered as his uncle always had seemed so fond of the habit. But by the time they'd smoked both pipes, Jamie was feeling rather ill.
"Another?" Gil asked. "Or have you had enough?"
"No!" lied Jamie. "It's good!"
Gil expertly knocked the dottle from each pipe and began to refill them, taking his time and emoting on the benefits of tobacco and the excellence of Pennistone Leaf in particular. Jamie and Paki were both rather quiet, and almost somnolent through this, sipping from the flask occasionally, until finally Gil was finished and Jamie glanced at him to find smoke curling up from where the smoldering dottle had fallen, and the flick of a red flame.
"Gil, behind you!" Jamie said, struggling up. Paki gasped and leapt to his feet. And Gil, seeing their fear, whipped about and, in doing so, accidentally knocked the oil lamp from the bale he'd set it upon.
All three boys cried out in horror as the oil splashed upon the flame, and the glass broke. For a moment they were plunged into darkness.
"Is it out?" Gil asked, hopefully.
And then with a sort of whoosh the fire sprang up anew, big and spreading as the oil had spread. The boys yelled in dismay again, tore off their jackets and beat upon the flames, but to no avail.
The shed was afire.
TBC