This is my third time reupdating this chapter. I will be going back through each chapter and update it. First time readers. I hope you enjoy.

-Moon


Shay lingered in the doorway as he watched his only child sleep. Her red ringlets framed her face that made her look peaceful. He was amazed that a seven-year-old was able to infiltrate his ship without detection. He always knew Catherine was a clever child, more clever than he could give credit for. The Sea Captain didn't know how he was going to explain his delay to Master Kenway. He might find it humorous that a young child was accompanying Shay. Though it wasn't the first time Haytham had to meet Catherine. This would be the first where it wasn't a dire situation.

Before he left, Shay pressed his lips to his snoozing daughter's forehead. She turned to her side with her back facing him. The captain took a minute to make sure she was comfortable before leaving. He shut the door behind him as he walked across deck where Gist was waiting for him.

"How is our lil stowaway?" Gist chuckled as he leaned on the railing of the ship.

One of the men had found Catherine shifting through the supplies, looking for food. It caused a commotion amongst the crew. Shay was stunned by his daughter's actions. after he gave a stern lecture, he embraced Catherine showing he missed her.

"Asleep, I dunno how I am going to explain to her mother that she slipped onto the Morrigan." Shay gritted his teeth.

He would hope that Rose didn't think he had kidnapped his own daughter.

Gist nodded, "Why not bring her along?"

Shay grimaced at remembering the last time her daughter was around assassins. "Are you mad? She's a child."

"I mean educate her about the Order! Imagine the assist she could be in a decade."

Shay shook his head, "I will leave that decision to her when she is an adult."

Gist nodded, "Aye….well, I don't think anyone would mind if you show up with a child. Lee might get his knickers in a twist, but the Grand Master should be understanding." Gist looked behind Shay and cleared his throat with a smile. "Someone is up again."

"Papa?" Catherine's childish voice spoke up.

Shay had to blink twice before he could register the surprise. It was the second time his child surprised him.

Shay turned around, "Cathy… Lass, you should be in bed." He picked her up with a quick scoop.

She rubbed her sleepy eyes before laying her head on his shoulder. Her curls gently brushed against his shaven cheek, "I couldn't sleep."

Shay let a faint smile spread his lips, "Of course," He thought of an idea to hope to get the child to calm down for the evening. "Come with me."

He walked up the steps and around to take the wheel from a sailor that had taken the night shift. The crew of the Morrigan was sailing through the night to get to New York. The sailor gave a short and quick nod before departing down below to get rest. He set the little girl down on the wooden deck. He kicked a wooden crate over to be a makeshift step stool for the child, so she could take control of the wheel. Shay made sure to have a tighter grip on the wheel knowing very well that she didn't have the strength to steer the ship.

"Now, my lovely lass," he smiled, "the ship is yours to command… we are at half-sail where our speed is cut in half. Give it command to full sail for full speed."

"Is this the fastest ship in the Atlantic papa?" She almost squeaked, her brown eyes shined with wonder. Shay felt so much pride for his only child, but he also felt regret for leaving his family so often.

He smiled, "yes my love." A thought pounded in his mind for a moment, the idea of Catherine one day piloting her own ship.

"Full sail!" She squeaked loud enough to be heard past the waves.

There were a couple of sailors that had a look of confusion when they heard the small voice. They soon chuckled when they saw the captain's daughter. Shay could hear the comments of calling her mini Cormac, or small captain.

Shay looked down at his precious daughter, who chuckled when the wind and sea air hit her face. It stung his heart to know that he would have to leave behind his girl once again. It was all worth it for the greater good. He was going to make sure she got a safe future and the childhood she deserved.


Catherine's mind was caught off guard by that night from many years ago. The young teenager was snapped back to her present life in her mother's tavern.

The pub was lively for a Sunday evening, but it kept Catherine and her mother, Rose, busy. The pub was slowly dying of the nightly crowd, for a new fresh work week to begin tomorrow. The young girl of 14 hummed as she set a tray of empty pints onto the counter. Her mother filled them.

The Snowdrop was one of the most thriving pubs in Boston Harbor. The patrons were mostly made up of men who worked nearby on the docks and sailors from incoming ships. Catherine had been helping her mother since she was big enough to carry a tray and bring drinks. Most would argue that it wasn't a proper setting to raise a child in. Rose did her best to run the tavern and be a single mother. Rose would fight anyone who would say that she was a poor parent.

"Little Cathy! Another Drink," one of the patrons cried out. "You look like your mother every day."

She looked like a younger version of Rose but shared her father's eyes and nose. Her hair was a darker shade of red, almost like the last color of fall before the leaves began to die. Her mother said that she began to look like her father. Even her height was taller than the average woman of the colonies, but it didn't make her less pretty.

Freckles were lightly sprinkled across her pale skin. Her pale skin always seemed to be red and puffy. No matter the othe f year whether it be the cold harsh winter or the blistering heat of summer. Her appearance would get her picked on when she was a child. The other children in the burrows would pick on Catherine. Dubbing her a follower of Satan due to her red hair and pale skin. She never let it bother her though, Rose had always told her to never be doubtful of herself.

Catherine walked over to the patron, "Paul, don't you have a wife and newborn son to go back too?" She poured him more of a drink. Her voice was laced with her Irish heritage.

She shared her Irish heritage with her parents. Her mother had been born in Massachusetts on a struggling farm along with her older brother. Her father was the child of Irish immigrants in New York from what she was told. They met when they were children.

The man gave a low chuckl e,"I promise lass, this is my last one before I head home."

"I will hold it to ya." Catherine let a smile teased her lips before walking back to the counter. "I think that might be the end of rounds tonight." She sat the tray down to make it easier to lean on the counter to stare up at her mother.

Rose cleaned one of the pint cups, before putting it under the bar.

"Good, I need you in bed in early tonight, I have errands to run in town tomorrow and need your help." Her mother's accent was slightly heavier than hers.

Catherine made a slight face that said she had other plans in mind, "I'm going to meet up with James tomorrow. Later in the evening." She knew her mother's chores and errands would take all day and well into the evening.

James Quinn was one of Catherine's oldest friends. They had known each other since Catherine had pushed James into the mud for whacking her with a stick. Catherine was just shy of seven while he was a strapping boy of nine. Though they had a strong friendship, rumors of romance between the two children. Sounds of wedding bells was in the distance, but Catherine didn't let that simple gossip get the best of her.

Rose made a face, her daughter made it sound like a plan, instead of a request. "Oi? What are you exactly planning on doing, my sweet child."

"We are going to King's Street and-"

Rose cut off her daughter from speaking any further. "Isn't little James the one who has been leading small protest around the city against the British? Eh?"

"About that-"

"The lad isn't going to drag you down this dangerous road?" Rose gave a firm look to her only child, "I don't want you to go to these gatherings."

Catherine didn't want her mother to know what her true intentions were. "It's nothing, just spending the day with a friend," she lied to her mother, which she knew better.

Catherine felt as her lie was justified. The truth was that a small group of the colonist was planning a surprise protest in front of the State House. Catherine started to join these secret meetings with James a few months ago. She had watched her mother almost lose the pub. They would have lost everything due to the British Parliament's tax laws.

It was time to speak up. The world was changing and there were whispers of revolution on the horizon.

Rose was quiet for barely a minute before grabbing her daughter's chin and looking her in the eyes. "I will think of it, but don't do anything stupid and be safe."

"I will Ma, but you gotta agree James has the right idea." Catherine leaned in to whisper to her mom in case if any loyalist happened to be in the room. "The British can't just tax us whatever they want. We almost lost this place due to it."

Her mother took a slight breath, her daughter was so stubborn just like her father. This girl was filled with so much pride that sometimes she didn't see clearly. Rose took a moment to think about her estranged husband of almost 15 years. Catherine had only seen her father a few times in her life.

Rose knew Catherine looked up to and admired her father. She prayed Catherine would never know the true nature of her father's work.

"Let me worry about the taxes, love."

Rose had told Catherine that she recently came into money that would help with the taxes. The single mother had written a letter of desperation to her distant husband. Within that month sending that letter, she was informed her taxes would be paid by a third party. She could remember how grateful she was to receive that letter. Though it felt bittersweet at the sight of the wax seal. The letter ended with H.K., her father's boss.

"What about the rest of the colonies?"

Rose shushed her daughter, "We will talk about that later, now can you go clean the table in the corner?"

Catherine huffed a little but obeyed her mother. Knowing that conversation would never come.

Catherine smiled for a moment like she wanted to ask for something, but wasn't sure how to phrase it.

"What is it girl?"

"Is da's letter here yet?" She asked as she played with her fingers.

"Yes, I tucked it away on your desk." Rose sat a pint of ale on the counter, "Happy birthday, darling. His letter had arrived earlier than expected."

Every year around her birthday, she would receive a letter from her father. She would write back, but no one knew where to send it. She tucked the letter away with others she stored throughout the years until he could come home. His last visit was when she was only eleven.

Rose looked at her only daughter, how she had aged through the years. She was still stubborn like her father, but she had his determination. She knew her daughter was going to be an extraordinary person. There was no ounce of evil or cruelty in Catherine's soul. She knew the difference between right, and wrong. Even though with all this trouble brewing in Boston, she stood up for what she believed in with a strong sense of justice.

One wish Rose had for Catherine was to be happy.

Catherine lit her small bedroom with oil lamps that hung from her walls. A soft warm glow was cast over the light pink walls that had faded over the years. The chipping paint was covered with realistic drawings of the ships in port, the people of Boston, and patrons of the inn. She had a unique gift of drawing anything from memory.

The room was decorated with a desk, a bed, and a single wardrobe. She didn't have many clothes besides a few dresses, skirts, tops, and a single pair of trousers. A single shelf was nailed to her wall with a few dolls lining it with a couple of books that she read in her spare time. Her mother made sure she knew how to read and write unlike most women of her time.

Catherine walked straight to her desk to find the envelope. She looked forward to his letter every year. She wasn't exactly close to her father, but she still adored him. He was a good father when he was home.

The closed parcel was laid out on her desk. Where a water stain was on the bottom right-hand corner. She could tell it had been through quite a journey, but she didn't hesitate to open it. In the folded letter there was a silver pendant with a red bead sitting on top of it tied on a black string. The girl recognized it as the tree of life. The tree of life was depicted as tree branches reaching for the sky, while the roots spreading below the earth. Celtic beliefs said that trees were the link between heaven and earth. Their Irish heritage was an important aspect in the house.

The letter had neat and cursive handwriting she recognized as her father's. She sat on her bed to read it pulling her knees to her chest as she relaxed against the headboard.

My lovely lass,

Catherine hummed with a smile, he would always start his letter like that.

You are another year older. I am frowning to know that I have to miss your beautiful smile and your adoring eyes that mirror mine. Each star I see every night reminds me of your freckles that cover cheeks. There isn't a day that doesn't go by that I don't think about your red curly hair that you share with your mothers.

There isn't a day where I don't think about you. Almost 15 years old, and I've missed out so much of your life. I apologize to Cathy, but I promise we will soon see each other, I just don't know when. I then promise you to take to out on the Morrigan like we always talked about when you were little. I know you have grown into a beautiful woman, but I will rush back home soon as I hear I lads banging on your door for a courtship. I swear, I'll be home before you are to be married, I will be there to walk you down the aisle. You will make the most beautiful bride, and have even more beautiful children. A thing my grandmother always said, "Cormacs never have ugly children."

I am getting ahead of myself, I wish you could never grow, that you could stay that lil girl I left in her bed. I will see you soon, I promise.

With Love,

Your Father.

Shay P. Cormac

Catherine held the letter close to her chest, before placing it down on her desk. She stood up and walked to the mirror to place the necklace around her neck.

The next morning came after the busy night they had. Catherine was already up before her mother to start the day. She was in the small kitchen grabbing a slice of bread and margarine for a small and quick breakfast.

The girl promised that she would meet James near Kings Street later on in the afternoon. All she needed was an excuse to slip by her mother later on that day. She never got a yes, or a no from her mother about meeting the older boy.

Nonetheless, she was waiting for her mom to wake up. They needed to make an order for new barrels of ale. They needed to purchase new traps for the rats, along with new bar stools since a few of them were falling apart.

Catherine sat on a bar stool munching on her breakfast before pulling her boots on. She decided to put on a pair of trousers instead of a skirt, or a dress. Her shirt was one of her white blouses with a green waistcoat and thick leather belt that held her breeches up.

She believed that skirts and dresses would restrict her movements. The girl only wore them when she worked at the pub or shopping. The girl moved to a small mirror as she hummed a sea shanty as she brushed and braided her. It only took a quick moment to examine her hair.

She took a moment to wait for her mother, feeling impatient. She wanted to go meet James. She knew her mother wouldn't give her permission.

In a moment of rebellion, she decided to go ahead and leave. Catherine knew she would get an ear full later, but she wanted to go. She went downstairs the pub.

The teenager gave herself one hard look before moving away from the mirror. She stopped at the base of the stairwell. Glancing at the unique frame that hung on the pale grey walls of the pub. It was a flower that was pressed between two glasses in an ebony wood frame. It wasn't any old flower, this flower was called a snowdrop. It would only bloom in colder climates up north. It was Rose's favorite flower, one that Catherine's father would bring her when he stopped for a visit. This was a gift he bought for Catherine when she was born and had hung over her crib.

The young patriot grabbed her coat before walking out.