Within a Captain's Treasure

by Lisa A. Olech

  Back topside, the men stopped their chores to notice her walk past. Alice shot back over her shoulder. “You’d think you’d never seen a lady in a fine skirt before.” Many said their good-byes and wished her well.

  She found Robbins and returned his breeches. “I thank you for the use of your trousers.”

  “Least I can brag ’bout all the fine women been in me pants.” He smirked and blushed to the roots of his hair.

  “One day you’ll don a fine pair and I hope you’ll remember me.” Alice patted his arm.

  “I ain’t likely to forget ye, Tupper.” Robbins nodded.

  “And you’ll keep an eye on Bump for me?”

  He bobbed his head, again. “Aye, I will. Ye ken count on me. Always.”

  They were closer to shore now. The order to drop anchor would come anytime. Alice moved away from the bow. Watching the land grow larger and large in her sight was setting off nerves and emotions she was struggling to sort.

  “Would ye look at you?” MacTavish stood with his hands on his hips appraising her. “I’d have ye in a fine tartan pinned o’er ye shoulder, but I imagine that’ll do.”

  Alice smiled at the burly Scotsman. “Only Scots wear tartan.”

  “Aye, but on rare occasions, we’re allowed te bestow an honorary Scotsman badge of honor.”

  “You’d make me an honorary Scot?” She raised her eyebrow. Tough and grizzled like an old bear, MacTavish had a tender side to him few saw and even less dared to acknowledge.

  “I might.” He jerked his head back toward the magazine. “Follow me, lassie.”

  “If you pull a kilt out of a bag—”

  “Nay, just come wit me.” Stopping inside the armory he closed the door. “I ain’t a man te get sentimental. But ye’ve been a fine thing te happened on this here tub. Ye work hard and yer brave. And ye put up wit te likes of me.” He tugged at the braid in his beard. “Might bloody well miss ya.”

  Alice was tempted to tug at his beard as well, but knew better. “I might bloody well miss you, too.”

  “I want ye te have somethin’. Ya know, te remember yer favorite Scotsman. Have I ne’re told ya where I be from, lass?”

  “I don’t think you have.”

  “I be from a bonny part of the highlands. A tiny village called Sròn an t-Sìtheinn means nose of the fairies. Our tartans be a fine red color fer a reason, ya see. There be these rocks there that burn a bloody brilliant red fire.”

  “The red smoke.” She clapped her hands together.

  “Shhhh.” He opened the door and peered out. “Keep yer voice down, lass. None be knowing ’cept me—now you.”

  Alice lowered her voice. “Why are you telling me?”

  He planted his meaty fists on his hips. “Ye been askin’ near every damn day.”

  “I never thought you’d actually do it,” she countered.

  “Must be havin’ a weak moment.” The corner of Alice’s mouth curled into a smirk. MacTavish frowned at her. “What be that look fer?”

  “Malcolm MacTavish, beneath your brawny, burly, grouchy exterior”—Alice put on her best Scottish accent—“ye be nothin’ but an ole’ softy.”

  MacTavish’s face flushed crimson. “Ye be takin’ that back.”

  Alice crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. “I will not.”

  “If ye were a man—”

  “You’d never have told me.”

  He laughed and nodded. “Ye got that right. An’ I’d ne’re be givin’ ye this.” From the rugged leather sporran tied about his waist, MacTavish took a small square of his beloved red tartan and a small leather pouch. “I be givin’ ye the secret and a wee bit of me powder. Toss a pinch into a fire and ye’ll have a grand show. And I give ye a bit of me fine wool. Wear it pinned near te ya heart. It’ll bring ye luck.” He pushed both items into her hands.

  The gesture touched her bruised heart. “MacTavish—”

  “Ye be stoppin’ right there. I’ll be havin’ none of the mush yer fittin’ to spout.”

  “Can I say thank you?”

  He sniffed. “Ye did, lass. Now be gone wit ya.”

  “Just when I think I may like you, you go and show your true colors.” Alice laid a hand on the steel of his arm. “Then I like you even more. I promise to keep the tartan near to my heart and your secret safe.”

  He gave a gruff nod and opened the door for her. Outside she looked at the items in her hands stunned at the generous nature of these men. Alice tucked her front shirttail into her belt to create a reticule of sorts and moved toward a certain spot in the bow. Virginia stretched out before her. Land filled the horizon. She was here.

  “We’ll be dropping anchor soon.” Behind her, Gavin’s voice wrapped around her. “I can’t accompany you, but will send men to escort you.”

  The ache in her heart closed her throat. She could only nod.

  Gavin was silent for a long moment. “All that is left is to wish you safe journey, Mistress Tupper.”

  Alice straightened her spine. “The same to you, Captain.”

  “I see a bit of the Scarlet Night will be leaving with you.” He’d moved closer. His voice a low whisper in her ear. “Her sails have never looked lovelier, but I believe I prefer you in breeches.”

  Alice closed her eyes. She wanted to scream for him to stop. Turn and slap his face. She wanted him to grab her and kiss all the pain and confusion away, and to tell him how much she loved him. How getting off this ship was going to kill her. Instead, she gripped the railing before her until her knuckles went white.

  The order rang out to drop the sails. Shouts throughout the men and the loud release of the ship’s anchor chain rattled like a death knell to her.

  “It sounds as if you’ve arrived.” Did his voice seem strained? “I’m leaving you in Simons’s capable hands.”

  His warmth left her side. He’d stepped back. “Good-bye, Alice.”

  She stood stock-still, not moving, not speaking. Gavin’s boots thudded on the deck as he moved away. She refused to allow the flood of tears threatening to drown her. Momentum shoved her against the rail as the Scarlet Night pulled rebelliously against her heavy tether.

  If she didn’t move, held her breath and closed her eyes tight, perhaps she could make time stand still. She could stop the sun and the tide and languish in this precise second of in-between. For the space of time it takes a grain of sand to drop in an hourglass, she could freeze this moment and exist within its minute boundaries.

  But her lungs still pulled breath; her heart still beat out its perpetual rhythm. Time moved on against her wishes. The crew’s activity behind her and the wind upon her face were gentle reminders she needed to move on. There was a new life and a whole new world awaiting her. It was what she hoped for long ago, and here it was, close enough to touch.

  She shelved her past away. Tucked it back into the far corner of her memory. Time did pass, and it would heal the scars it left behind. The bruises would fade. She’d embrace the future with eager, wiser arms. She had all she needed: a talisman for strength, a patch of wool for luck, and a ring full of love. What more did she need.

  Him. She needed him. Alice shook the thought from her mind.

  Simons came to stand next to her. “We’ll be heading off soon as the skiff is lowered. Ye’ll want to be in Cape Henry before the last coach leaves. Should be landing at the Whitmore Plantation by sundown.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “Shouldn’t be long now.”

  Simons left to see to last-minute things. Alice allowed herself one final look down the length of the beautiful Scarlet Night. She couldn’t help scanning the decks once more for the towering man with the sun-bright hair. He wasn’t there.

  Alice took a slow, deep breath. “Good-bye, Scarlet Night. Good-bye, Gavin.”

  Climbing down the rope ladder to sit in the back of the long skiff, Alice then faced Finch, Simons, White, and Summer who waited to set their oars and
row the small ship to shore. Alice had to smile at the looks upon her dressmakers’ faces. They congratulated one another on how well the garment fit her—especially the length.

  But her amusement was fleeting. As the men were put to oar and the skiff moved away from the side of the ship, it took all she had within her to keep her spine straight and not look back. Would he be standing there watching her leave? Was he waiting for her to turn and wave farewell?

  No, she wouldn’t look. What if he wasn’t there? What if he was in his cabin raising a glass to the good fortune of finally being rid of her? What if he gave her leaving little more thought than a brief notation in his precious ship’s log. No, she had made a vow to herself long ago not to look back, and no time was it more important to keep that vow than right now. She had said her good-byes.

  * * * *

  Gavin stood in her spot at the tip of the bow and watched as the skiff carried her away. He kept his posture casual, hanging on to a bit of rigging, yet he refused to move until he could no longer see her clearly. Giving a nod of his head as if satisfied all was done, Gavin turned back to the task of returning his life and his ship to some sense of normalcy.

  He hadn’t been the only one watching Alice leave.

  MacTavish stood with his thick arms crossed over his broad chest. “Permission te make a wee comment, Capt’n?”

  “When have you ever needed permission, MacTavish?”

  “Well, beggin’ yer pardon, Capt’n, but yer the biggest horses arse I’ve ’er set me eyes upon.”

  “Mind your own business.” Gavin moved past him.

  MacTavish called to his back. “We’re it my business, I’d not be fool ’nough te lose the lass, ye bloody fool.”

  Gavin swung back. “Your only business is to make sure we’ve enough powder should the British Navy find us sitting here with our backsides hanging out. Or doesn’t a price on that handsome head of yours mean anything to you. I suggest you mind your tongue and get back to your duties.”

  “Aye, aye, Capt’n,” MacTavish grumbled. “Yer still a horse’s arse.”

  Chapter 19

  The skiff’s bottom grating across the sand signaled their arrival upon the shore of the Old Dominion. The men scrambled out of the boat and pulled it out of the waves.

  Having been on a ship for weeks, Alice struggled to walk on the soft ground. Finch took her arm and chuckled, “Easy does it, Tupper. Ye’ll get yer land legs back soon.” He helped her up the wide, rock-strewn beach.

  Passing through scrub pines and wild sea roses, Alice, Finch, and Simons made their way inland until they reached a traveled road.

  Simon’s stopped. “Need te say good-bye to ye here, Tupper. British Navy has a stronghold along this coast. Not safe te be seen closer te town less we want te die a few inches taller.”

  Alice looked at both men. “I didn’t realize I was putting you all in so much danger.”

  “No danger. Less we get caught,” Finch added with a wink. “Quicker we get the Scarlet away the better.”

  “Still got yer pistol?” Simons asked.

  Alice nodded. “Tucked in my boot.”

  “Good.” Simons pulled a tied leather pouch from a pocket. “Capt’n wanted ye to have this.” Alice looked at him in question and opened the pouch. “Be yer share of that fat Spanish fish. Ye earned it.”

  Alice removed a wrapped parcel that lay upon a healthy handful of gold coins. Unwrapping it she gasped at the sparkle of emeralds and gold that tumbled into her hand. She recognized it at once. A necklace fit for a queen.

  Quick to rewrap it, Alice handed it back to Simons. “Return this to Captain Quinn. Tell him, I didn’t earn this.”

  “Must ’av wanted ye te have it.” He pushed it back at her.

  She stared him down. “I can’t accept it no matter what the reason. Please. See he gets it back.”

  “If ye say so.” Simons returned the necklace to his pocket with a shrug.

  Alice added the few items from MacTavish to the pouch and closed it tight. Standing in clear view of the road was making her nervous. If it were true and the British were heavily guarding the area, not only were they in risk of being caught, but Gavin and the Scarlet Night were sitting in dangerous waters. “You should head back. I’ll be fine from here.”

  “Won’t forget ya.” Finch shuffled his feet in the dirt.

  Simons nodded. “Been a fine member of te crew, woman or no—”

  The pounding of horse’s hooves coming down the road had the men scrambling back into the safety of the tree cover with barely a backward glance.

  “Bye, Tupper.” The men called as they disappeared into the underbrush before the team of horses rounded the bend.

  “God’s speed,” she whispered before moving off in the opposite direction along the shaded road. The cart approaching slowed to a stop. Calling for the horses to, “Whoa,” the gentle older couple driving the wagon inquired as to whether she needed a lift.

  As luck would have it, the couple knew of the Whitmore’s Plantation. It wasn’t too far out of their way, and after the startled expression when the woman first looked upon Alice, they didn’t hesitate to agree to take her there.

  Alice had forgotten about her blackened eye. By their reaction, she must look a fright. Fingering it gently she claimed clumsiness as she climbed into the wagon. The elderly man nodded his understanding, but his wife’s shrewd appraisal came with a sad shake of her head and squeeze to Alice’s hand. What would they do if they learned she’d earned her “shiner” in the midst of a pirate skirmish? The poor old woman would faint.

  Leaving the shore road behind, the wagon passed field upon field of farmland. Alice closed her eyes and breathed deep of the warm fragrant air. Thankfully, her traveling companions were not of a more curious nature. Conversation was kept light, and Alice soon relaxed in the warmth of the sun and the steady gait of the horses.

  As the sun’s rays began to stretch into the last shadows of the day, they made a wide turn into a beautiful tree-lined lane. The old man announced, “Whitmore Plantation.”

  Alice insisted they leave her at the end of the lane. They’d already gone far enough out of their way, and it would be dark before they reached their own farm. It was important to her to make this last small leg of the journey alone. She thanked the couple for their kindness and watched as they turned their wagon toward home.

  Smoothing her makeshift skirt, Alice ran a hand over her hair and started down the lane. The sun was still very warm even this late in the day. Her hems kicked up the dust from the road. Walking on solid ground still proved odd. Maybe it had something to do with the pistol in her boot chaffing against her leg.

  On either side of the lane, past the rich row of trees and lawn, fields of deep green rolled on as far as she could see. Wide-leafed plants grew waist-high in perfect rows. After weeks of endless blue sea, the patchwork of every shade of green was a beautiful change. Up ahead she could make out the grand front entrance of the Whitmore estate. Large white pillars gleamed in the fading light beckoning her closer.

  The impressive estate featured a deep-shaded porch, decorated with huge urns of even more foliage and bright flowers to welcome its visitors. A line of inviting chairs rested in the cool recess closest to the house.

  Staring up the wide set of stairs, Alice had a moment’s panic. What if, after all this time, the position of governess had been filled? She was weeks late. Would they have gotten word the Pennington had been captured? They were sure to think the worst. What if the job had been given to another and she’d come all this way only to be turned away?

  Alice clutched the small bag containing all her worldly possessions. The small cache of gold gave her some measure of assurance. She wasn’t destitute, but where would she go? One thing was certain, she was firmly on dry land, on the opposite side of a wide, dangerous ocean, and she intended to stay put. Regardless of what waited for her beyond those doors, she was never returning to England.


  She straightened her spine, tugged on the tails of her blouse, lifted the hem of her skirt, and climbed the broad steps. Ornate double doors stood before her. Leaded prism glass flanked each side and caught the fading light. A gilded bell pull hung down. She gave it a sharp pull, and held her breath.

  A gloved servant opened the door. He was formally dressed and his quick appraisal of her was followed by a stern frown. “State your business.”

  “Good afternoon, may I speak with either Mister or Missus Whitmore please?”

  “I should say not.” He gave a quick shake to his head and began to close the door.

  “Wait.” She blocked the door with her foot. “I believe they are expecting me.”

  He sniffed. “I doubt that.”

  Impatience urged her to push past the man and find the Whitmores herself, but she needed to remember she wasn’t on a pirate ship anymore. She needed to conduct herself with some gentility. “Please.” She forced a small smile. “If you’ll tell them Mistress Tupper has arrived. I believe they’ll wish to see me.”

  The man’s eyebrows rose. “Tupper?”

  “Yes, Alice Tupper. Perhaps I should have started with that. I’m sorry. I was coming here to take on the position of governess.” She was unsure how to briefly explain the events of the last few months. “I was…detained.”

  “Mistress Tupper.” He broke into a wide smile and opened the door wide. “Missus Whitmore has been most distressed. She’ll be relieved to see you. Please, come in.” He stood to the side and ushered her in. “They call me Drummond, Miss.”

  Relief washed over her. “Thank you, Drummond.”

  Entering the coolness of the foyer, Alice was struck by the sheer size of the mansion beyond. Tall cream walls held gilded-framed portraits. Brass finials cupped thick beeswax candles. A gleaming round table featured an arrangement of flowers, which looked like an entire garden planted in the center of the space. An elegant sweep of a stunning staircase resembled an hourglass as it narrowed then flared into an upper hallway and traveled in two directions. Turning around, Alice could see a railed galley ringed the foyer. Large sets of double doors flanked on the right and left. She could only imagine what could be found behind them.