The first thing Kyle noticed was the smell, a smell he hadn’t experienced in a very long time, and it hit him like a brick to the stomach: the smell of meat roasting over a fire. His mouth watered and his stomach growled loud enough that Hal frowned at him. “Sorry,” he said, but he really wasn’t very sorry at all. He hadn’t had meat that wasn’t dried and salted in weeks!
The man led them into a large, brightly lit room. There were a scattering of tables, about half of them occupied with finely dressed people eating. In the corner, a man played a gentle tune on a violin. Kyle gaped at them. A restaurant? In Tortuga?
Hal passed the bottle of wine to the man. Their host looked at the seal, then back up at Hal. “Oh, Captain,” he said with a shaky voice. “This is why you are my best customer! Do you know what this is? Yes, of course you do!” The man tucked the bottle protectively in one arm. “Come! Over here! Our best table!”
He led them to a table near a large window. The building was set on the hill, so they were now on an upper story overlooking the wharf. “No one can sneak up on you here, eh?” the man said with a wink as he pulled out their chairs and seated them. Then he held up the bottle. “Will you be wanting—”
“No, George. That is for you. Bring us whatever you have in your cellar.”
“Of course, sir,” George said with a bow. He walked away, staring again at the bottle held reverently his hands. Kyle wondered what George would do if he knew Hal had about twenty more bottles of that wine on the Emerald Dawn. Probably swoon.