Hi! Thanks for bearing with me - things have been manic and I haven't updated in ages. I hope you enjoy this chapter and, as always, please let me know what you think!
Chapter 8
"And then she just said it! "I'm going to have a baby". Just like that!"
James shook his head, a wide grin on his face as he scrubbed the deck with a few other sailors.
Until a soaking sponge was thrown at him.
"Christ James – we get it! A baby." The thrower of the missile laughed good-naturedly and James, after a moment, joined in.
"Sorry lads," he said, his expression a bit sheepish. "I just -"
"Land ho!"
James stopped mid-word and leaped to his feet, punching the air.
"Land! That means letters, boys," he yelled, running to the side and looking eagerly at the port.
It was the journeys first stop and nothing could have been sweeter to James than the letters he knew were waiting for him there.
The other sailors stood up, exasperated but still slightly amused.
"Funny that," the one who'd thrown the sponge said, "I thought land meant women."
"Yeah. I thought it meant booze," another said, crossing his arms.
James turned around, his grin still firmly on his face as he strode up to his friends.
"Land," he said, a final air to his voice as he clapped the nearest on the back, "means letters."
And with that he grabbed his pack from the floor, slung it over his shoulder, ruffled the sponge-throwers hair and (almost before the ship had even anchored) jumped onto the gangway.
As he ran down the walkway and out of sight his friends watched him go, each wearing a bemused smile.
"Wouldn't recognize him, would you?" one said, retrieving his own pack.
"Never," agreed another. "In fact, if I didn't know for certain that he could still beat any one of us in a fight with one arm tied behind him back, I'd be worried he'd gone soft."
0 – 0 – 0
James felt like the letters were burning a hole in his pocket. He'd ran straight to the inn where their mail was kept upon disembarking and the keeper had handed him a thick pile of parchment, each page filled with Annie's italic script. He had taken them as if he was holding little Peter for the first time and to him they seemed just as precious.
They were a piece of Annie, after all.
He could imagine her writing them, sat at a table in the tavern, her quill in her hand and her hair falling into her eyes. She would end up tying it back with a ribbon, of course, but her optimism always encouraged her to at least start with it down. He wouldn't start writing right away, taking a few minutes to think about what she wanted to say.
James had seen her sit down to write to her aunts many times (never her mother and father) and she always wore a peaceful, reflective smile as she sorted through her thoughts, ready to put them onto paper.
Finally, after what seemed like a ridiculous length of time, James arrived back at the ship. None of the others were back yet so far as he knew so he made a beeline for his hammock.
The ship was silent but for the slight creak of the mast, and James had long thought of that as a calming sound anyway – along with the rush of wind through the sails.
The parchment crackled as he unfolded the sheath of letters and James ran one hand over the top sheet before settling down to read.
My darling,
I write this from your favorite seat in the tavern – it is always mine whilst you are away. I sit here for hours and write to you, and it feels like you are with me.
Your friends have all been such gentlemen, my love. I am afraid to say that when I first received a knock on our door I feared the worst, but it was Tom, Jack and Ollie. I might have known you would tell them about Peter – now everyone knows. But I don't mind, James. They came to say that I was safe with them whilst you were gone and that they'd make sure no harm came to me or the baby. I thought it was awfully sweet and they have been true to their word, checking on me every so often and even offering to do my shopping!
I prefer to do that myself though. You know that I think and feel better in the open air. It is nice to walk in the afternoon sun, lazily so as to observe anything and everything as we always do.
James, Peter sends his love. Though he is but a bump at the moment (none of my dresses will fit me soon!) I can feel his presence. I talk to him about you, you know, so he knows his father already and loves him.
I hope with all my heart that you are safe and I think about you every day. So now it falls to me to be a hypocrite, my love. Do not dwell on your absence from me whilst you are at sea. I know you, James, and I know that you will be thinking about Peter and I constantly, and fretting. Don't! Please enjoy yourself and don't worry. We shall be fine, darling. I promise. I can fret about you all I want as I have nothing better to do, but you mustn't.
Time does insist on stretching itself out whilst we are apart but we shall be together soon, and a month from then our baby will come into the world. What a beautiful thing, to have a baby.
What a beautiful thing to have you.
I love you with all my heart and will shamelessly count the days until you return to me.
Yours always and with love,
Annie.
James gently put the letter down, swinging his legs so he was lying fully in his hammock. He could hear Annie saying each word and imagine each expression and it was like she was right there with him.
In his head he could see their son clearly, and he often thought about what he would be like. He found himself inspecting his own character, picking the bits which he would try to pass on and those traits which little Peter would not be exposed to. Annie, of course, could pass on all of her qualities with a clear conscience. In this way, James had created his own portrait of the child in his mind already, and often when he had an idle moment he would add something or other.
In short, he had never been as excited for anything that he could remember.
It was a wonderful feeling.
Grinning, James set the letter to one side and started on the next, chuckling to himself as he read Annie's description of the antics of his friends. He was halfway down the page when he heard footsteps and looked up, the smile fading from his face as he saw Felix.
As usual the man was perfectly presented, not a hair out of place. His smirk, of course, was still there.
Just the sight of him made James's blood boil, remembering how close he'd come to harming Annie.
"What do you want?" he asked coldly, glaring at the man as he stood up.
"A chat, my friend," Felix replied calmly, spreading his hands and stepping closer. "Nothing more."
Narrowing his eyes, James crossed his arms.
"Fire away," he said disdainfully, knowing already what the swine was going to say.
And sure enough...
"Have you thought over our little agreement?"
"It is not an 'agreement' if one party has no choice," he replied tersely, his hands instinctively forming fists.
"Would 'arrangement' suit you better?" Felix said, unfazed by Jame's hostility.
James snarled, starting forward, but Felix held up his hands.
"Now, now," he said, his irritating smile still in place. "We all have choices, my friend, in everything. You chose her."
And I always will.
Out loud, all he said was: "You're not my friend."
The smile became strained but remained in place – James would have liked nothing more than to punch it off of his face altogether, but the thought of Annie and little Peter kept him strong.
"Nevertheless," Felix rejoined, "you work for me now. And as such, I expect you to carry out a small task."
"Name it and get out," James said, his voice still cold and dark and his glare fierce.
Felix stepped closer, steel woven into his cordial smile.
"Harry's been giving us some trouble," he said, actually managing to sound regretful and mocking at the same time, "he's the last one. He'll need some...convincing to join us. I think you're the man for the job."
After a sharp intake of breath had pierced the silence, James growled under his breath, digging his nails into his palms.
"No," he spat. "Harry's a good man, a good sailor. He's honest."
"Regardless," Felix said, his expression impassive, "you know what will happen if you don't."
Beneath his swarthy tan James was pale, a vein standing out on the side of his forehead as he struggled with himself. Whichever way he turned he would be wrong on some account...but Annie...
Nothing was more important than her.
And with one curt nod,his fate was sealed.
