Captain Adams shouted orders and, within a few minutes, the Gunsway left the safety of the cave and began to sail away from Arwenack Castle and Captain Harrington.
“We found this, Captain,” said one of the men, pulling off his cap to reveal a piece of parchment. “Looks like they’re trying to pin you down for good this time.”
Eleanor couldn’t help but look over her father’s shoulder, gasping at the face that looked back at her. Someone had given the Navy a description of her father, and now his face was plastered over posters seeking his arrest. It wasn’t a perfect likeness, but it was close enough that her father could certainly be identified by it. On top of that, the Navy had substantially increased the reward for her father’s capture. It did not seem to bother Captain Adams in the slightest, although Eleanor could not say the same for herself. Her stomach tightened as she read the words over and over, anger slowly growing in her chest towards this Captain Harrington.
“Why is he so hell bent on arresting you?” she exclaimed. “It’s been three years since he’s started this mission and he still hasn’t given up.”
“I’m a pirate, Eleanor, in case you had forgotten,” her father replied jovially, slapping her on the back. “The Navy wants us all taken from the sea. For some reason, they believe these waters belong to them!” He snorted disdainfully. “We’ll just have to keep proving him wrong. And, I find, the more you evade them, the more they want you.”
“You’ve escaped him again, Captain!” the crewman grinned, as Captain Adams tore the parchment to shreds and threw it into the wind. “Where are we headed?”
Captain Adams considered for a moment, before grinning. “Back to the Caribbean, I think. We have enough supplies?” He turned to Eleanor, who nodded. The first mate had organized all that when they had gone to shore.
“Then let’s pray for favourable winds, to take us far from here,” Captain Adams replied.
“And more treasure to fill our holds,” Eleanor smiled, her tension slowly dissipating as they sailed further and further away from Arwenack Castle. Her father had escaped Captain Harrington for the last three years. She didn’t need to worry. The man would never catch up to them.
Thomas gritted his teeth and tried not to lose his temper. “What do you mean, they’re not here? We had information that stated they’d be ashore.”
His commander shook his head. “I’m sorry, Captain.”
Dismissing the man, Thomas fought the urge to walk into the local tavern and drink until he forgot all about Captain Adams. He’d never been a man to overly imbibe until the past year or so when he began to despair at his quest. He had been so sure that they'd finally catch up with him this time, only to be proven wrong once more. His hopes had slowly begun to fade the moment they'd come into port and hadn't spotted the Gunsway on the horizon or anywhere near the port. Of course, the locals had refused to say anything to the Navy, all except for one man who had been so drunk he'd not cared about what came out of his mouth. He'd given them a good description despite his drunken state, which meant they'd been able to have posters made up and distributed on the very same night – but still, no one said a word about their whereabouts. Apparently, Captain Adams was very well liked around these parts, with folk finding him generous and kind, which Thomas could not bring himself to believe. Most likely, the man brought fear and terror to the people of Arwenack Castle, threatening them not to say a word about him. If they did, then who knows what the man might do. He was a pirate after all.
“What am I to do now?” he asked himself, his jaw clenching as he thought about his options. Nothing came to mind. If he boarded the ship once more and began to sail, he would have very little idea of where to go. The Gunsway could be anywhere by now, and he could not even guess where it might be headed. If Captain Adams knew that the Navy was still on his trail, then Thomas figured he would put as much distance between himself and them. Perhaps back to the Caribbean?
Frustrated, Thomas walked smartly back towards his ship, seeing the waiting crew ready for him to give his next orders.
“Sir.” The lieutenant saluted, before standing straight and waiting for Thomas to speak.
Clearing his throat, Thomas nodded to Lieutenant Taylor. “Tell me your opinion, Lieutenant. Where do pirate ships tend to congregate? Particularly when one wishes to hide from the British Navy?”
The lieutenant looked surprised, then thoughtful. “There are a great many places, Captain, but I would suggest that the Gunsway might seek warmer waters.”
“It’s as I thought as well, to the Carribean. Whereabouts would they go?”
The lieutenant thought for a moment, although a slightly uneasy expression came over his face. “Likely Port Royal, if I had to hazard a guess. They’ve been known to stop there before, to trade. That is a long voyage, however, Captain. What if they remain nearby?”
Thomas sighed inwardly. The lieutenant was speaking plainly, as he had asked, but it was hard not to simply snap orders and expect them to be obeyed. At the same time, as Captain, he had to make wise decisions. The lieutenant’s point was valid. What if they traveled to the warmer waters of the Caribbean only to discover that the Gunsway had not voyaged there in some time? Would he be playing right into Captain Adams’ hands?
“Do we have the supplies for such a voyage?”
The lieutenant nodded. “We could ensure we have enough to keep us for many weeks, of course, but could be ready to weigh anchor in a few hours.”
Making a decision, Thomas nodded. “Then do that. We sail for Port Royal.”
Port Royal was a disgusting, filth ridden place. Thomas wrinkled his nose as he marched through the town, thankful that the British were, at least, trying to better it. Climbing the steps into the Naval Base, he nodded to the waiting commander before climbing to the outlook point.
The top of the Naval Base gave him an excellent vantage point from which to study the seas. They had been in Port Royal for two days thus far and, as yet, had not seen any sign of the Gunsway, nor of Captain Adams. He cursed under his breath. Their destination had simply been a mere guess as to where the pirate might go next and now, here he was, searching desperately for a ship that he did not know for certain was coming in this direction.
Captain Adams could be anywhere.
Thomas' gaze landed on Gallows Point, seeing the bodies of the latest two pirates hanging there. It was somewhat ghastly, but a reminder of the penalty for piracy. He was a part of this, a part of the Royal Navy that was attempting to bring some kind of order to this pirate-ridden land.
However, Thomas knew that the pirates still ran Port Royal in many ways. As much as the British liked to think they were in charge, it was the pirates who ran the establishments and the trade. They were the economy here and the residents were not inclined to turn on them. Port Royal was large and the Navy simply had not sent enough men to deal with all those who arrived here. On top of that, he was not always able to tell, just by appearances, which men were pirates and which were not. Thomas also had to admit that as dirty as this place was, the people were good-spirited and seemed to enjoy their lives.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Thomas tried to tell himself that the trip was not entirely wasted. He was seeing the world, was he not? And at least here, they could display Captain Adams’ reward, in the faint hope that there might be someone desperate enough to lead them to his whereabouts.
“I need a drink,” he muttered to himself, placing his hat firmly back on his head and walking back down below. The tavern was not the cleanest, but it was certainly the best on this side of Port Royal. Carefully picking his way through the muck on the cobbled streets, Thomas pushed open the door, found a dark corner and sat down.
“Captain Harrington,” the barman said, coming over to him at once. “Can I get you a drink, sir?”
“Whisky,” Thomas murmured, quietly.
He placed his hat on his knees and shrugged out of his jacket, wanting some solitude for the time being. He did not wish to be dis
turbed by all manner of sailors, some who might come seeking entrance into the Navy’s command, others who were only there to mock him. Nodding to the barman, he accepted a whisky with a mutter of thanks, before staring into it as if it would provide the answers for all of his problems.
What was he doing here? The search for Captain Adams had driven him for so long, but now the hunt was driving him mad. Failure upon failure meant that he continued to suffer, knowing that the Navy was finding his lack of success both disturbing and laughable.
Three years. It had been three years since the chase had begun.
Sighing heavily, Thomas threw back some of the amber liquid and let it burn down his throat and into his chest. Was this what his life was going to become? Just sailing from port to port, all in search of one man? Was there not more for him to explore?
Thomas had always had a desire for adventure, a desire to get away from his small world and live in a much bigger one. He did not want to simply do the usual thing of marrying, producing some children and then settling down to a life consisting of liquor, gambling and mistresses. No, there was more to life than that, and Thomas had been keen to explore it.
The Navy had provided that opportunity for him, of course, but Thomas' world had slowly begun to shrink as he’d been forced to focus all of his resources on one man. At times, he envied the pirate captain, although he would never admit it to anyone. To be a pirate meant freedom. Freedom from living under orders, from doing what you were told to do. A pirate captain, unlike a naval captain, had full command of his ships and of the seas. Pirates could travel anywhere they wished, do anything they wanted, all without constraint — with the exception of avoiding ships like his. Of course, the values Thomas so upheld rebelled entirely against such a life that also had deceit and theft as an integral part. He could not, however, resist the temptation to dream of the wonderful freedom they had. Was he ever to have the chance to live that way himself?
Perhaps he could buy his own ship, hire his own crew. Whilst his family was wealthy, Thomas knew that there would be repercussions if he did such a thing. For one, he would never find a respectable marriage when the time came, for women liked to have husbands who were honorable, working for the Navy instead of going out on their own, with no rank to speak of. He would be seen as something of a vagabond. Then there was always the thought about where his continued funding would come from, for, of course, he would have to pay his crew and buy enough supplies to keep the ship going. Eventually, Thomas identified that he would have to either find some kind of treasure – which he had no knowledge of how or where to find – or simply steal or fight for wealth. Sighing heavily once more, he drank the rest of his whisky before slamming the glass back down on the table, calling for another. He was stuck, completely embedded in the Royal Navy with no way out. He could return home, of course, but that would take him back into a life he truly despised. No, for the time being, he would have to simply continue his chase of Captain Adams and wish that, when he finally caught him, it would not only spell the man's demise, but also lead Thomas to freedom. That was all he had to hope for.
5
“I’d say he looks quite miserable,” Eleanor whispered, clenching her fists in her skirts. “And I am glad of it.”
“We should return to the ship,” the first mate warned. “It is some miles away and, now that we know he is here, your father will wish to weigh anchor immediately.”
Eleanor knew he was right. Their trip to Port Royal had been a successful one, bartering for more goods and ensuring that they had enough food for their next adventure, but it was always intertwined with danger. Now that the British were attempting to ‘clean up’ Port Royal, they had been forced to be much more careful. However, the port was large and the Gunsway had been anchored a few miles off shore, with flags lowered so that they could not be easily identified. Besides that, they were only one of many ships near Port Royal, and, as soon as it began to grow dark, Eleanor knew her father intended to leave and get back out into open water.
She and Morgan were securing the final goods in town and had stopped at the tavern. It was there that Morgan had pointed out Captain Harrington, sitting at the bar, alone. She was intrigued. His name having hung over her head for three years now, seeing him sitting there, he seemed just an ordinary man. One who, at the moment, looked defeated. She wanted to get a closer look at him, to better understand this man who was spending his life chasing them.
“I’m going to speak to him,” she said, abruptly.
“No, Adams,” hissed the first mate, referring to her as he had always done. “You cannot.”
Eleanor frowned. “Why not? I am in skirts, am I not?” In truth, she much preferred breeches but she would have drawn far too much attention if she had worn her usual garb on her arrival to shore. “He will simply think I work at the tavern, or some such like.”
“Why would you speak to him?” Morgan whispered, hoarsely. “There is no need, Adams. We already know who he is!”
“Because I wish to look him in the eye and know that he will never hurt my father,” Eleanor replied, fiercely. “I would look into the face of my enemy, unafraid. Besides that, he’s quite in his cups and may have some worthwhile information for us. I will meet you back at the ship.”
Eleanor’s rank on the ship was an undefined one. The crew respected her and considered her one of their own. Her father had made known his intentions for her to succeed him one day, but at the moment she did not hold any type of rank either. She didn’t give orders, but she also did not follow every order given by the first mate — at least, not in decisions off the ship. Without giving him a chance to argue, she got to her feet and walked over to the barman, requesting another whisky for Captain Harrington.
“You’re with him, are you?” the barman grunted, looking her up and down as though she were one of the easy women who worked around Port Royal. She wished she could invoke the Adams name, but the fewer people who knew their identity here, the better. “Well, at least you’re cleaner than the other ones who come here.”
Eleanor bit back her harsh retort, managing a hard smile as the barman handed her the whisky. Picking it up, she walked over to the captain, her breath coming a little more quickly as she approached him.
“Did I hear the barman say you are a captain?” she asked smoothly, sitting down opposite him without invitation.
A pair of cold blue eyes looked at her warily. “I did not think the Navy was much admired in these parts.”
Eleanor pretended to be upset and pouted. “I was simply bringing you another whisky, sir,” she replied quietly, lowering her eyelids. “I am sorry if that was the wrong thing to do. You simply look a little unhappy. I thought I might change that.”
The coldness in his eyes dimmed as he raised his eyebrows at her and, to Eleanor’s shock, she realized that he was quite a handsome man. A surge of desire pulled at her as he sat back and studied her with cool blue eyes framed by chiselled cheekbones. His intense gaze took in the long tousled locks around her shoulders and the slender figure, her breasts swelling over the neckline of her blouse, though not as suggestively as most of the barmaids. His countenance changed, and he smiled at her, surprising her with his crooked grin, a dimple etched into one cheek. He ran a hand through his straight dark hair as it fell from its tie, and her fingers itched to feel its silkiness. This is your enemy, Eleanor, she reminded herself. You feel nothing but hatred.
“I should not have been so harsh,” he murmured, reaching for what was now his fifth whisky. “My temper quite gets the better of me at times, particularly in days of late. Now tell me, what has brought a woman as beautiful as you to place like this?”
“The same thing that brings us all here in one way or another,” she replied with a coy smile of her own. “Pirate treasure.”
He chuckled ruefully, shaking his head. “I suppose you’re right. Why choose this table, then? You must know an officer of the Navy is not the place to find your treasure.”
�
��You looked so lost over here by yourself,” she replied, with what she hoped was a look of pity. “I thought you could use another drink — and some company.”
“Your presence is welcome,” he replied, leaning in and twirling a lock of her hair around his index finger. “I am rather lonely.”
Eleanor said nothing, warning growing in her heart. She had to leave, now. The first mate had been quite right, this was not a good idea. Clearly, the captain assumed she was offering more than just another drink.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, getting up from the table as gracefully as she could. “There are other customers.”
His hand shot out and grabbed her fingers, keeping her by him. “But the barman will not mind, I am sure,” he said, firmly. Eleanor saw him lift his head and catch the barman’s eye, who, to her horror, simply chuckled and tipped his head towards one of the doors to his left.
This was all going disastrously wrong. A surge of fire swept through Eleanor as she forced herself to sit back down. She must behave as any other woman might, not the woman she truly was. Other women — particularly those found in this port —would accept the captain’s attentions eagerly, whereas she despised being treated as such an easy mark.
“Can I get you another whisky, sir?” she asked, hoping that this might be a way to make her escape.
“No, I think not,” the captain murmured, throwing back the remains of his glass before trying to stand. He swayed slightly, having drunk a great deal of whisky in a very short space of time. “I have not had a woman’s company for a long while now. And you have a spark to you that speaks to me. Perhaps you’re just what I need to clear my head and lift my spirits.”
Quest of Honor Page 3
