Elin Gregory

Treasure is such a fun thing to write about but today I’m posting because it’s RJ Scott’s Birthday Treasure Hunt!

What you do is – you go from blog to blog, there’s a list, picking up clues and finding the answers then on September 3rd you enter the answers on RJs blog.

So, to save you time, here’s Clue Eight – RJ’s favourite season to write about.

Don’t forget to go to RJs blog to fill in the answer.

And now, just to pad the post out a bit, here’s a treasure related snippet from my pirate story On A Lee Shore, because all this talk of treasure has made me feel a bit nostalgic. Kit Penrose, ex-Royal Naval lieutenant, currently a very reluctant pirate, is doing his best to keep to the straight and narrow. Griffin, pirate captain, is determined to lead him astray:

By the time Ciervo was hull down and Kit left his perch to go in search of Griffin, the deck was covered in boxes, barrels, and chests with whooping pirates poring over and pawing through them. Kit picked his way through the mess and found Griffin standing in the shadow thrown by the quarterdeck and looking through a package of charts.

“Kit,” he said, by way of greeting. “Have you come to join in the fair and equal sharing of the spoils?”

“Hardly,” Kit said with a laugh. “And I warned Davy too, not to touch any of it. I might have assisted in sea robbery but I don’t have to profit by it!”

Griffin rolled his eyes. “Foolish boy,” he said. “What you have done today truly makes you a part of the crew. Does it not, Jago?”

“Oh, aye,” Jago said. He was seated on a sea chest with reales spilled about his feet. “And that ought to be marked somehow.”

“It should,” Griffin agreed, his broad grin making Kit feel uneasy. “In fact I have arranged a small ceremony.”

He nodded, and Kit barely had time to protest before many hands grabbed him and someone slung their arm around his neck.

“Hold you still now,” Protheroe said, laughter in his voice. “You’ve earned this.”

“What? No!” Kit struggled, but Protheroe’s forearm was tight across his throat, and he had no choice but to still and watch from the corner of his eye as Lewis dipped a sail needle in brandy, ignited it from a candle, then brought it and a cork close to Kit’s head.

“Don’t get any of that grease in it,” Saunders advised. “We don’t want his ear to rot off.”

“That’s a point,” Lewis said and swabbed around Kit’s ear with brandy.

“But I don’t want—” Kit swallowed the rest of the sentence at the bite of the needle. He glared at Griffin, who laughed at him until the job was done and they released him, an unaccustomed weight dragging at his damaged ear. A whooping cheer went up, partly derisive for they had marked him one of their own despite his wishes, and partly genuine good will.

“Very fine, Kit,” Griffin said, taking him by the shoulders and turning him to look at his adornment. “And we have the mate of that one should you be careless enough to lose it.”

Kit raised a hand to his ear, winced as Saunders slapped his wrist, and brought his fingers away bloody.

“Leave it alone, let it heal,” Saunders advised. “Griffin, Jago, it’s nearing sunset. Should we not be on our way?”

“No rush,” Jago said. “I vote we divvy up here. Make the most of having this fighting platform under our feet.”

Griffin shook his head. “That was not our agreement, Jago. Let it stand. We’ll away to Curacao to careen Garnet and strip this ship at our leisure. Lord knows the Santiago’s boats are more useful to our trade than she is. Come, let us be on our way.”

Jago stirred the silver coins with his boot, his eyes on the sky. “And I say we have no reason to be hasty,” he said. “At the very least let’s put some of the treasure on our own ships in case it begins to blow and we lose touch. Expenses—what do you call them—and we’ll have the proper division when we make port and can get something better than this rot gut sack.” He took another swig from the bottle in his hand and grimaced.

Kit stepped aside as the treasure was sorted and made safe, the quartermasters making two sets of notes and consulting with each other. They even came and looked at Kit’s earring, noting it down as “item, one earbob, gold and emerald—10 reales” which made his eyebrows climb a little.

“You didn’t think I would stint, did you?” Griffin said with a grin when Kit commented on it. “A laborer is worth his hire, and you have served me well in this.”

That brought Kit up short. “Hire,” he said. “I did not do this for hire.”

“Of course.” Griffin nodded and dropped his voice to a murmur. “But for the moment, in present company, let them think that you did. You and I will know better and later—when there is the time and opportunity—I will be happy to show you how very grateful I am.”

There on the deck of the Santiago, surrounded by hallooing pirates, Griffin lifted Kit’s grease-laden hair away from his newly pierced ear. Kit assumed that if anyone noticed they might have thought Griffin was looking at the earring. Only Kit could feel the stroke of fingers at the nape of his neck and the gentle pressure of Griffin’s thumb down his throat. A kiss, Kit decided, would feel even better.