QUICK NOTE:

I am forever in the debt of Obiwanliveforever for being my wonderful Beta Reader for this story! Thanks so much, dear! I'm learning so much! And, Chapter One and Two have been edited so if you want to go back and re-read them, feel free! Who knows? You might even find a clue to Lane's identity...

Chapter Three: Bonnie Annie

(Thomas)

"What's the matter 'oy?" my drunken father slurred, standing in the doorway of our home that was more like a shack. His left hand gripped a green bottle of rum, the vile liquid swishing around inside with each of his staggering steps.

I was sitting in the corner of our kitchen, studying a worn map of the world I had found lying in the mud in town. I ran my finger over its rips and wrinkles. At that very moment, I wanted to be in any one of those faraway places, not in the path of my father's drunken wrath!

He came closer. The smell of his drink was starting to make my head spin. How I loathed the smell.

"What are ye doing?" echoed my father's voice around me. I didn't answer. Instead, I lost myself in the edges of the map. I had no clue what any of those places were called since I couldn't read. Well, not yet anyway.

My father ripped the map from my hand. "Look at 'e, boy!" he yelled.

I shook my head. The bottle smashed to the floor. I covered my face, protecting it from the flying pieces of glass. He grabbed my face violently, pulling it towards his own. His breath reeked.

"You will never be worth anything," he sneered. My father released me and I fell against the wall. I wanted to cry, but that would only make things worse. Tears to him were like blood to a dog.

He stared down at me for a long time. I sat still, like a statue, knowing that he would soon grow bored with me.

Finally, with one last mumble of "stupid boy", my father disappeared somewhere into the shadows of the rotting house.

I ran.

I ran as fast as I could out of that house. Buildings became blurs and I soon lost direction. All I wanted was to be as far away as possible; somewhere new and exciting; anywhere but here.

My shoe landed in something wet. I stopped and glanced down. My foot was in the ocean. I had ended up on the beach near the docks. Quickly, I stepped back, not wanting to ruin my only pair of shoes. Not knowing what else to do, I walked towards the wharf. Maybe, I could bargain my way onto one of the merchant ships and sail to places unknown, like those on my map.

Suddenly, I heard small whimpers. Slowly, I glanced around looking for the source. It was coming from behind a pile of cargo. Standing on my tip toes, I peeked over the pile and spotted a figure at the edge of the water. Though the figure was dressed as a man, I was sure it was a woman. Was she disguised? And why was she crying? Something silver caught my eye as the object glittered in the rays of the Caribbean sun. I leaned forward. It was a locket, swaying back and forth from its chain.

Then, the girl stopped whimpering. She gave a loud sigh and then began to pace along the shore line. Her hands hung limply at her side, but the locket continued to sway.

"Come on, girl," she murmured to herself. "Pull yourself together. You can do this."

She stopped and turned to face the ocean. With one last sigh, the girl threw the locket into the ocean as hard as she could. With a splash, the necklace fell to the bottom, out of sight.

The girl seemed relieved now; even happy. She reached down and pulled a brown sack over her shoulder. She touched the brim of her hat with her free hand and began to march towards the docks. I ducked down quickly so she wouldn't spot me.

"There was a rich lord, and he lived in Forfar," the girl began to sing. "He had a fair lady and one only dochter. O she was fair, O' dear she was bonnie! A ship's captain courted her to be his honey. There cam' a ship's captain out o'er the sea sailing…"

I leaned against the boxes, listening to her sweet and haunting melody as her voice drifted. The song she sang was a Scottish folk song that was popular with the sailors, called Bonnie Annie. In this song, Bonnie Annie fell in love with a sea captain and followed him out to sea. Was this girl doing the same? Was she following her love? Though I didn't know the answer, I did know one thing. This girl was off to find a new life. If she could do it, then so could I.

But, how would I escape from my father? From Port Royal? I didn't know the first thing about sailing. I wasn't strong like the other boys my age. There was no way I could last a day at sea.

Then, the idea came to me. It was unbelievable, unimaginable, but it was my only solution…

Memento Mori. Memento Mori. Memento Mori.

"What in the world are you doing?"

I glanced up to see James standing above me, looking over my shoulder.

"Writing," I replied, as I ran my finger through the letters I had written on the dirty floor of our cell. The Latin phrase was our only clue so far and it didn't really mean anything.

"We already know what that means," James said, sounding annoyed.

"I know," I told him.

I didn't like James and neither did Elaina Hall and the woman who called herself Mama Higgins. Jonathan Swift, the ex-Navy lieutenant, sat silently in his cell. His face showed no emotion. It was like he was trying to blend in with the background. Maybe he saw everything from a military point of view. Jonathan probably figured that if he kept quiet, the Navy would come through for him in the end. But, if he was an ex-lieutenant, how did he become so?

Jonathan did show some emotion, when he would glance quickly at Elaina, though her back was to him as she leaned against the bars. His face became a mix of love and anger. And as quickly as it had come, it disappeared turning once again into a mask.

"Do you think that will help us figure out who Lane is?" the old fisherman asked, pointing to the phrase sprawled out in the dirt.

"Maybe," I shrugged. The man's name was Henry Gerre. I had been the only one who even cared to ask. Everyone else was too busy thinking about Lane.

"I wish I learned to read, even write," the man said, almost sighing as he did.

"I didn't always know how," I explained, staring down at the dirt.

Henry raised an eyebrow. "How'd ye 'earn, then?"

I chuckled to myself. "I made a deal with the devil himself."

"What's that suppose to mean?" James snickered.

I opened my mouth to explain and then stopped. If no one was going to discuss with the rest of the group how much they really knew about Lane, I wouldn't either. I wanted information for information. So, I decided to step up.

"Are we just going to sit here and wait for them to kill us?" I asked the group. My voice was a little shaky, but I tried to sound confident like James. I was naturally shy and timid. It was a curse really. I blame my father for making me that way.

I didn't want to die like everyone else in these three cells, but I wasn't about to unleash my secret just yet. Like in chess, you have to wait for the right moment to move your key place. This wasn't the opportune moment.

"The whelp is right," Mama Higgins stated. "We can't just sit here! We need to figure out which one of us is Lane."

"Well, I bet my life that the old hag is definitely not Lane," James mumbled.

"And it be true! I'm not Lane!" Mama Higgins exclaimed.

"We can't rule people out," I explained. "Everyone's a suspect, even I'm a suspect. We already tried sharing information, so we have to piece together what we know."

"Which is what?" Henry asked.

"Well, we have a phrase," I listed. "And we know occupations. Mama Higgins owns an inn, Jonathan is an ex-Navy officer, and James is a merchant, Henry a fisherman…"

"What about Elaina?" Mama Higgins asked. All eyes turned towards the young woman. She blinked.

"If you're expecting the final piece to the puzzle when you only have the first few pieces," Elaina explained. "Then you're missing the whole point. It's the pieces in between that are the most important."

"Ugh, enough with the riddles and just tell us what you do!" James complained.

Elaina glared at him. But before she answered him, Jonathan spoke up.

"Elaina's a serving girl," he announced.

Elaina turned her glare towards Jonathan. "Yes. I'm a serving wench as Lieutenant Swift has pointed out." There was a hint of venom in her voice.

"But what about you, Thomas?" Henry asked. "What do you do?"

Now, everyone's eyes were on me. I could feel my face going red.

"Er…I…I'm a sailor," I shuddered. "Actually, more like an explorer."

"I thought the blank edges of the map were being filled in," James said, probably quoting something out of an East India Trading Company pamphlet.

I grinned sheepishly. "Well, what about the small islands here in the Caribbean with their lush forests? Only pirates get to see those places. I go in, study the climate, the wildlife, and then record it all."

James yawned. "Boring."

I shrugged. "It's…interesting."

The group seemed to buy it, for now at least. But how long could I continue the charade? They would all find out eventually…

And thanks to the following people:

MsAurora: Thanks so much for the wonderful feedback! I know I've already thanked you, but I'll thank you again. I followed your advice and got a Beta Reader. Now my story is looking better and better! :D

Hidden Darkness: I'm so happy your reading one of my stories! And you better update your own soon. I need to know about James and Lexi!!

Qwertzuiop4: Thanks for catching my mistake! Glad you came back and finished reading when I fixed it too!

Lady Pocketmouse: Ah, my faithful reviewer! I'm so glad you're still interested and keep coming back!

And thanks again to my Beta Reader! :D

Keep a weathered eye on the horizon! Chapter Four (which will probably be in Mama Higgins' POV) will be up soon!