His hands moved to illustrate the ship’s size and dimensions as he spoke. Karigan did not doubt he envisioned the Gold Hunter before him, felt the wind in his hair and the sea spray against his face; saw dolphins leaping the waves that curled from the prow.
“We took merchant vessels plump with cargos of every description,” he continued. “Casks of Rhovan wine, bundles of tobacco leaves, metal ore, spices, ceramics ... anything you can imagine. Even a ship full of goats.”
Karigan almost questioned him about how many sailors had to die when the pirates “took” a vessel and its goods, but she managed to remain still and just listen. She glanced at Condor, and his unblinking gaze steadied her.
“The Gold Hunter was fitted with an iron ram,” her father said, “and crewed by hands who were well-armed and skilled fighters. Few vessels outran us, and because of the reputation we attained for fighting fierce battles, Captain Ifior convinced most merchantmen to yield before combat even began. He was fair with defeated crews, especially those who surrendered, and they were free to go as they willed once we made landfall. Some chose to remain with the Gold Hunter.
“I myself was a mere cabin boy, and I will not claim life on board was easy or pleasant. It was hard work and the captain stern. He had no patience for slackers and he was quick to flog any sailor he deemed wasn’t moving fast enough.” He rubbed his shoulder, grimacing with some memory. “Likewise, since I was the smallest on crew, others saw fit to kick me around for no particular offense except I was there.”
Karigan found it difficult to imagine her father as a boy, for he’d always seemed so tall and indomitable to her, not one to be pushed around. Those boyhood experiences must have forged him into the man she knew. They certainly did not break him, nor did they turn him into some monster that gave back the same as he got. It was amazing, really, and she, who had a gentle, loving upbringing, could only admire him for it.
“But as difficult as life could be on the Gold Hunter,” he said, “it was no worse than I experienced fishing with my father. Easier in many ways. More lucrative, too, and so I stayed.” He paused, loosing a breath that was barely perceptible to her, like a light slackening of the wind in the sails, a release. She glanced at him and saw he was far away, far off on the sea, perhaps, watching gannets plunge from the sky into the waves after fish, and the sun lowering beyond the horizon of the world, not sitting anchored in a stable in the middle of a snowstorm. She wondered at the memories she forced him to dredge up, wondered what parts he recalled but chose not to tell her.
“The most important reason I stayed,” he said, “was because of what I learned—not just the writing, reading, and figuring, but what I observed when I accompanied the captain to market. Remember those goats I mentioned? Not worth a great amount here in Sacoridia, or other ports on the continent, but on Mallollan Island? A different story.”
Mallollan, Karigan knew, was part of the Cloud Island archipelago, where her father maintained ties to this day.
“There were no native livestock animals there,” he continued. “They did have some scrawny cows and hogs acquired in direct trade, but most had to be brought over on the long and dangerous passage from Pikelea, where the customshouse was based and all the international and legal commerce occurred. Which meant the purchasing of goods was more expensive and heavily taxed, and the returns more modest.
“Captain Ifior, however, stayed away from the main island, thus avoiding paying duty and evading any officials seeking his arrest for piracy. Instead, he sailed directly to Mallollan, where he was welcomed by people with little access to trade goods, but who were eager to obtain them.
“I watched him barter with the chiefs of various villages on the island. The captain had been right—they wanted those goats. Not only for milk and meat, but because owning them would elevate their status across the whole archipelago. What the captain received in return were goods plentiful to the islanders, but in demand elsewhere: sugarcane, pearls, nutmeg, cinnamon ...”
Those items were still in high demand in Sacoridia and elsewhere, and brought princely sums, creating huge fortunes for several merchant clans. Karigan’s father still traded with the islands, and even pioneered the shipping of ice harvested from Sacoridian ponds and lakes to the tropics, yet it was textiles that had brought him his greatest wealth. She shifted beneath the horse blanket, realizing she’d never heard precisely why and how textiles, and not those other things, had become the core of her father’s business. There was much, she supposed, she had taken for granted.
“You see,” her father said, “it was the captain’s genius for knowing the markets I wished to emulate, and from then on, I worked hard; became the best cabin boy he’d ever known, and soon he entrusted me to keep his ledgers. He even showed me how to save and invest my share of a prize. Best of all, he continued to take me to market where I watched and learned.”
He then sighed, his gaze cast downward. “The end came when merchantmen, aware of the Gold Hunter’s reputation, started hiring protection when traveling the routes Captain Ifior prowled. Our prey, with its extra protection, turned bold, more aggressive, and our battles more pitched. In what would become our final voyage, the captain was slain in a clash with a Tallitrean ship, and he wasn’t the only one we lost. The fighting was vicious, and the Gold Hunter was badly damaged.” He shook his head. “We limped into port, all scorched and nearly dismasted. If it weren’t for Sevano, we wouldn’t have made it home at all.”