William Walker stepped ashore at Colon, a great smile upon his face. It was five years since he had last been here, since his hasty departure before Spanish forces chasing his ill-considered fillibustering expedition from the province. But all was different now
The steam pinnace from the ironclad corvette USS Sonora remained at anchor, its crew off to a tavern, or bordello, or who knew where, determined to make the most of their freedom and blame any delay on tides, or even on him. Walker laughed at that; he doubted that Semmes, let alone Old Iron Pants, would believe such a story, but probably they would go along with it - much easier to maintain morale that way
For his part he headed unerringly from the docks up into the wealthier district, hardly much of a walk in a hole like this. He paused before the house, noting its faded wood, its peeling paint. No, surely his fears were groundless - not Isabel ! He laughed it off and strode onto the porch.
Cristobal was as ugly a bastard as he had been five year ago - Hell, no, he was uglier still. A new scar down the right side of his face, a heavier bloodshot look to his eyes. He sneered up at the newcomer when he worked out who it was,
"She gone, Americano, she gone"
"Where ?", Walker grabbed hold of the man's collar, "I've come a long way, where is she ?"
Cristobal sagged and looked at the ground
"She get in debt" he said at length, "You never come. She sell herself"
"What does that mean ?" Walker demanded
"She Estobal's man now, down in the docks.", he shuddered, "She not my Bella no more, she gone...."
"Gone ?" Walker seemed at a loss, grasping at straws
"She got sick, Americano, that kind of sick"
"The pox ?!" Walker was somewhere between angry and astonished; not his Isabella, surely not !
"She got it" Cristobal seemed to deflate even more
Walker turned and walked away. He should have known things would have changed. You should never go back - not if you care about the past. But here he was in Panama province, and all his promises to the Admiral were as naught. He could even laugh at that, a short sharp bark of laughter. Oh but Fate had played him cruelly, it had played Old Iron Pants no less !
Best Regards
Grey Wolf
The steam pinnace from the ironclad corvette USS Sonora remained at anchor, its crew off to a tavern, or bordello, or who knew where, determined to make the most of their freedom and blame any delay on tides, or even on him. Walker laughed at that; he doubted that Semmes, let alone Old Iron Pants, would believe such a story, but probably they would go along with it - much easier to maintain morale that way
For his part he headed unerringly from the docks up into the wealthier district, hardly much of a walk in a hole like this. He paused before the house, noting its faded wood, its peeling paint. No, surely his fears were groundless - not Isabel ! He laughed it off and strode onto the porch.
Cristobal was as ugly a bastard as he had been five year ago - Hell, no, he was uglier still. A new scar down the right side of his face, a heavier bloodshot look to his eyes. He sneered up at the newcomer when he worked out who it was,
"She gone, Americano, she gone"
"Where ?", Walker grabbed hold of the man's collar, "I've come a long way, where is she ?"
Cristobal sagged and looked at the ground
"She get in debt" he said at length, "You never come. She sell herself"
"What does that mean ?" Walker demanded
"She Estobal's man now, down in the docks.", he shuddered, "She not my Bella no more, she gone...."
"Gone ?" Walker seemed at a loss, grasping at straws
"She got sick, Americano, that kind of sick"
"The pox ?!" Walker was somewhere between angry and astonished; not his Isabella, surely not !
"She got it" Cristobal seemed to deflate even more
Walker turned and walked away. He should have known things would have changed. You should never go back - not if you care about the past. But here he was in Panama province, and all his promises to the Admiral were as naught. He could even laugh at that, a short sharp bark of laughter. Oh but Fate had played him cruelly, it had played Old Iron Pants no less !
Best Regards
Grey Wolf