Eleanor and Rogers take a launch to Nassau and settle in the stately Governor's mansion. Rogers teaches her a thing or two how thinking appearances through can be beneficial - when to be inconspicuous, when to use authority. She also learns how much Max has expanded her business through hostile take-over.

Chapter 10 - Dead Woman Walking

With the dawning of the light, Eleanor lifted herself out of her bed and moaned at the soreness of her muscles. Before long, Mrs. Hudson brought in hot water and poured it in her little tub. As Eleanor washed herself, using the mirror to remove any leftover soot from her face, she hummed a song she remembered of her childhood.

"You have a beautiful voice," said Mrs. Hudson. "What song is that?"

Eleanor splashed her hand in the water as she dropped the washing cloth to wring out the soap. "It's part of a suite by Purcell. My mother used to play it on the harpsichord for my father. It would always bring a smile on his face and he would call her his good wife."

When she stepped out of the water, Mrs. Hudson handed her a new chemise and stockings. With regret, Eleanor looked at the dark green dress she had been wearing the day before. It stank of the sulfurous smoke. "I fear it is ruined," she said. "There is no way that smell will ever go away."

"I know some tricks," said Mrs. Hudson. She opened Eleanor's trunk and pulled out the red dress she had retouched for Eleanor. "This should really match your hair." It was a deep red, with fine silken little roses embroidered on it .

There was not much that needed to be packed, but there lay more in her chest than when she first came aboard. Her black mourning dress lay at the bottom, the two green mantuas and petticoats above it, matching stomachers, followed by two extra chemises and stockings, the saffron calico shawl and the dark blue silk dress that Mrs. Hudson still wanted to retouched. Last but not least, Eleanor laid the Twelfth Night on top of the pile of clothes. And as she looked at the open trunk with all her worldly possessions put together, she noted the chest seemed almost filled to the top. "Done," she whispered. Eleanor looked about her and sighed with relief that she could leave this dark hull behind her. She began to hum the slow air of her dream again.

On deck, she saw the bay as she had never seen it before for as long as she remembered – clear of pirate ships. All that remained were some of the bulkier commandeered merchant ships, waving English flags, other than the many launches rowing for the beach with trunks and caskets from Rogers' remaining fleet.

"Ready for the launch?"

She turned her head and there he stood, smirking. Eleanor ducked her head and tried to hide her smile. "Yes."

"The lost daughter returned home," Rogers said. Despite the loss of a ship full of stock and the escape of Charles Vane and Teach, Rogers seemed in quite a good mood. But Eleanor guessed that for him too, after the night there was always a new day. "Nerves?"

She shook her head. "No. You?"

Rogers gestured with his eyebrows. "More like anticipatory jitters to see and meet my new home." Yes, I can see it. Eager was the word that came to her mind – he's eager.

"Sir," Lieutenant Perkins said. "Your launch is ready."

"Good." He waved his hand aside for her to pass ahead of him. "Shall we?"

They walked to starboard of the main deck where a longboat hovered just a few inches above. She had been brought aboard the Scarborough once on boots, with nobody caring how gracefully she was pulled on board by the ladder while bound. In contrast, she had to get off again wearing mules and a pretty red petticoat, looking like a lady in front of the officers. There is no way I can lift my leg over the launch's side in any manner that would look elegant.

But then lieutenant Perkins placed a step in front of her, while older Major Andrews of the regulars got up and reached out his hand for her to hold. She lifted her right foot, felt the major's hand clasp hers firmly, but automatically her other hand searched for support behind her. His hand gently wrapped her searching palm, and gave her the solid support she needed. Involuntarily, Eleanor gasped short for breadth. She glanced over her shoulder, but he avoided to look at her at all. Eleanor pushed and pulled herself up, and then she was over the side of the launch and had the bottom beneath both her feet. However, a boat swinging in mid-air is a very unbalanced thing. Eleanor had felt secure far too quickly, and she nearly tripped. Quickly his firm hand wrenched around her upper arm, as he came up himself, and his other lay tenderly against her waist. When, Eleanor finally regained her balance and steadiness, she almost wished she had not, for his hands were gone.

Eleanor swallowed to control her racing heart and sat on the stern's bench. Rogers seated himself beside Major Andrews, just in front of her, and put on his tricorne, while rowers helped Mrs. Hudson into the launch, followed by two more redcoats and Lieutenant Perkins. As Mrs. Hudson seated herself beside her, Eleanor heaved a deep sigh and looked towards the beach, never seeing how for a moment, Rogers clenched his hand. The launch was lifted on the pulley, smoothly swung overboard and lowered onto the water of the bay.

"Goodbye, Miss Guthrie!" Mr. Eames cried from across the rail, waving at her. Then he looked behind him to make sure none of his superiors had seen him act so inappropriately and before she could lift her hand at him to wave, he had already disappeared.

It were the young officers of the regulars who helped her onto the wooden landing of Nassau's beach. Four redcoats awaited them on the beach to be their escort. This seemed excessive to Eleanor. The people had surrendered without a single shot fired. With Flint dead, and Charles and Teach gone there was little chance anyone would try to harm the new governor upon his arrival. It will give Nassau the wrong impression. Eleanor was just about to mention this to Rogers, but apparently he had a similar notion as hers.

Rogers took off his hat and said, "Gentlemen, I believe I am quite safe here. The people here have embraced England and the arrival of its new governor. So, I thank you for your loyal service, but I think I will stroll through town to my residence in a less official manner."

Major Andrews raised his bushy eyebrows. "As you wish, sir."

"I will see you later on the day, Major," Rogers smiled.

As soon as they walked onto the white sand of the beach, Eleanor realized why she had never worn mules before. She slipped out of them, bent through her knees and carried them, dangling in one hand. First thing I buy from my allowance is a pair of laced boots. Rogers strolled on somewhat ahead. When he turned, he raised his eyebrows, questioning. Eleanor shrugged her shoulders, while she wriggled her toes in the pleasurable feel of the dough-like sand massaging the soles of her feet. "That's better."

Once she had caught up with him, he leaned his head in and said, "Now, perhaps you can tell me where I can find the governor's mansion."

Rogers was in no hurry though. Once they reached the end of the sand and she put her shoes back on, he strolled as leisurely as possible. He wore a muted grey-green justaucorps without much embellishment and his knee-high riding boots, and held a common black tricorne in hand. He appeared as one of the richer new arrivals in town strolling through Nassau. When people of Nassau glanced at the passer-by, all they saw was a businessman with a pretty, young lass by his side and her chambermaid walking several feet behind them. They gave them little or no consequence.

They were halfway up the street, when an unwashed man with long, greasy grey hair in a stained, faded and worn grey coat and dirty brown tricorne looked up very much startled. "Fuck me, it's the Guthrie wench!"

"What you're jabbering on about, Lilywhite", said a woman cleaning her window. "The Guthrie woman is dead. Didn't you hear they tried her in London. She's dead, hanged."

"I swear, Maria. That's fucking Eleanor Guthrie right there, with that rich gentleman."

The woman turned, put her hands on her hips and stared at the back of Rogers and Eleanor as they sauntered further down the street. "You quaffed and drank too much of that ale last night, I say," chided Maria. "You see a young woman with blonde hair and see Eleanor Guthrie in all of them. You're mad and a fool to boot! That's just one of those new Englishmen and his young wife who came along with the governor. You ever seen Eleanor wear a fancy dress like that?" She snorted. "As if Miss Guthrie caught herself some rich businessman of a husband in a prison."

"And whyever not? A good hanging would have prevented the gentleman from a bad marriage."

Some of the men in the street saw her, for a moment startled, but then shook their heads and went their way. And so, strangely enough, the street was so certain that Eleanor was dead and hanged months ago, that even when they did recognize her, they dismissed what was right before their very eyes. A different style of dress and hair, and she ambling elegantly and demurely alongside a gentleman and a maid behind her convinced all it could not have been her. Only Captain Lilywhite was sure enough of seeing her, but everybody thought him a loon anyway.

They wandered onto the market square, past the town's gate and arrived before the colonial mansion, where workers unloaded crates from carts. Others carried them in, and some carried boxes of rubbish and empty bottles out. It was said that Rackham had taken it and turned it into a gambling house the last few months, which surprised Eleanor but little. Once inside, they were met by a hustle and bustle of officials signing papers, furniture being brought in, desks being set up. Rogers and Eleanor ambled through the grand hallway and entered the great assembly hall.

"I was told you once lived here," said Woodes as he reached for the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Eleanor turned slowly around full circle, looking at the walls and the ceilings. "For a short time, when I was very young. Before my father moved us to the interior and the opium traders claimed it for themselves." It seemed the mansion had weathered its previous occupants well enough.

Rogers moved to one of the crates that had just been brought in with rolled maps. "Home to a smuggler, den to opium fiends, salon to a pirate king." He lifted one of the rolls higher out of the box to see what it was before he let it drop back in its place. "Suppose I'll fit right in."

Eleanor chuckled. "Before any of that, it was home to a long line of governors. It will remember."

"Yes," Rogers sighed as he rejoined her side. "Well, let's hope I don't fit in too well with them."

"Sir?" Lieutenant Perkins rushed in with an envelope. "For your signature."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Rogers unsealed the envelope and studied the papers he had just been given.

"What is that?" Eleanor asked.

"Petitions to the Lloyds." Rogers walked towards a table free from crates and packs. "Attesting to the fact that the damage to the Willing Mind last night was no fault of ours and thus insurable." He wiped his hand across the surface to clear some of the dust on it, threw his hat onto the table, and laid out the document before him. Rogers reached for a plume and dipped it in the inkpot. "Months from now, somewhere in Cornwall, a clerk will be asked to draft a letter to Charles Vane, asking for his version of events." Rogers signed the document. "And they'll withhold payment for years, awaiting his response." He put the plume back in its holder, turned and folded the papers. "Between you and I, if there were ever a moment in which I sympathized with the desire to tear down the flag and declare myself in open rebellion against the Crown, it's when dealing with the insurance company."

Only half hearing him, Eleanor had wandered off, remembering disturbing flashes of a nightmare, as well as the fireship. If Teach and Charles did not realize I was the reason why the governor excluded Vane from the universal pardon, then surely they would have by now. And what is to keep Charles from trying to come back and do to Nassau what he did to Charleston? Teach might not care for it, but Charles? Though he used to say that a lion kept no den, Nassau had been his home too. Unlike Teach, Charles could not abide with someone taking what he believed to be his. Charles always settled his scores somehow, and often unseen or coming from behind.

Rogers handed the papers back to the Lieutenant, came to stand beside her and looked at her with concern. "He isn't coming back," he said gently. She looked sideways into his eyes, hoping very much it was true. "Charles Vane is no longer a part of Nassau's story," Rogers asserted and she lowered her eyes. "You know that, yes?" She gave a curt nod, but remained unconvinced.

"My lord!" cried Hornigold, entering the great hall.

Rogers welcomed the captain, his hands in open expectation. "Do you have it?"

"Excavation of the northwest tunnel is complete. After significant work to –"

"Do you have it?" The governor pressed his hands together in emphasis.

Beaming, Captain Hornigold lifted his chin. "The main vaults are secured, as are its contents - a sizable fortune in Spanish gold."

Eleanor smiled meaningfully at Rogers who flicked his eyes in Eleanor's direction and grinned. He dropped his hands and sighed in relief. "Thank you, Captain. The Commodore will take control of the structure and ready the gold for transport to Havana."

As Hornigold was about to leave the great hall, Eleanor called after him. "Wait." Hornigold halted, his back turned to her. "Any news from the fort as to Captain Rackham's whereabouts?"

Captain Hornigold sniffed and turned. "I'm told he and Anne Bonny fled before our arrival." He made a point of it to answer her question to Woodes, hardly acknowledging her presence. "Their whereabouts are unknown."

Eleanor frowned. Anne and Jack had fetched the gold and had been with Charles Vane inside Fort Nassau until the explosion. Charles was a trained and tactical pirate in battle, conquering forts and ships, but Rackham was the better man in coming up with schemes, usually ones that upset the plans of others. And she liked it not that both Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny had disappeared.

Rogers looked baffled by her question. "Why?"

Eleanor raised her eyebrows expressively and inclined her head, realizing Rogers did truly need her. "Spain may be appeased, but the street is still an open question. If you want me to help you play that game, I need to know where all the players are." Eleanor knew Rogers was no fool, a smart man, a tactician. But he relied too much on the belief that Charles or Rackham were reasonable men who knew when they had lost. Most men would, but Charles and Rackham are not most men.

"I see," Rogers said quite stumped. "And when do you presume this game begins?"

"It already has," Eleanor chided him. She walked off to the west wing where the governor's manservant, Dyson, oversaw the installment of the dinner hall. "You want to have the dinner hall, here, in the west wing?"

"Of course. In England –"

"We are not in England, but the West Indies," she corrected him. "It is always hot, sunny and half of the year so sticky because of humidity that you wish for an English spring instead. Move the dining room and the salon to the east wing, overlooking the garden. There will only be sun on the windows in the morning, so that the rooms with the help of the garden have time to cool off."

"Yes, Miss," said the Englishman. "So, you want the dining hall in the room with the garden door?"

Eleanor shook her head. "No. That should be the salon. Nobody wants bugs in their food."

"Bugs," muttered the man, shuddering. "And the breakfast parlor in the west wing?"

Eleanor smiled. "No. The dining hall will serve for both. But you can arrange a sitting room here, and extra offices there."

Rogers entered what was to be the sitting room. "Ah, here you are." He stopped and frowned as he saw the men carrying out furniture. "Why are they moving everything out?"

"Different climate, different layout of the rooms."

Rogers smiled. "You know best. As long as I can find my way." But then his countenance turned serious. "About the street game. I want to announce and name my council later today, as soon as everything is settled here. But I assume by your earlier remark that these game players might try to sabotage my efforts to be a friend to Nassau, like say if they are not part of my council."

He is a fast learner. "Nassau has been a world where strength makes might - the fiercest fighter, the strongest crew, the fastest ship with the most guns."

"Or the biggest fleet that can fence the goods."

"That too." Eleanor lowered her eyes. "People here are used to respect strength, and they are the ones who control the street's opinion."

"And who would those game players be?"

Rackham's and Anne's partner had been Max, and since those two had formed an alliance with Charles and Flint, after taking the Urca gold, it could only mean that Max gained even more street credibility. "That would be Max."

Rogers raised his eyebrows. "The brothel madam?" He walked towards the window looking out onto the market square, leaning his arm against the wall. "I cannot be seen at a brothel."

Eleanor strolled towards him. "No, but I can."

The governor furrowed his brow. "She is an enemy of yours, is she not?"

"We certainly did not part in the best of ways, no."

He turned his head and looked at her. "What would the street say if Eleanor Guthrie, who used to run the island, is seen visiting her enemy's brothel?" Rogers shook his head, and said gently. "That would not do either. They would either think you are there to settle personal bills or to betray me."

"There is nobody else but me who can approach her," she whispered to him as he looked out of the window again. "What if it is clear to the street that I go there in an official capacity? As your envoy?"

"Hmmm." Rogers stepped away from the window and looked at her from a distance. His eyes trailed her dress, her hair, as if she was being inspected like a soldier. "In the company of a force of physical strength." Rogers nodded. "Yes, go there with an escort of regulars. That would make it an official visit from the new government, without compromising you or myself. And let that be the first official sighting of your return as a voice of authority and strength."

It was the opposite image than the one of their arrival, and yet, she knew it would have Rogers' intended effect. Eleanor realized then that his talent in the game was that of appearance. It was not so much deceptive in that he pretended to be someone he was not, or faked his intentions, but that he only revealed parts about himself he deemed suitable for the occasion. And in that sort of game she was his pupil.

A clerk stepped in the sitting room with papers in hand. "Sir, here are the documents you had me draft for you."

Rogers accepted the papers, read them and returned them to the clerk. "Good." To Eleanor he explained, "Inauguration papers to sign in the council." He took a few steps towards her. "I trust that you can set aside the past between yourself and Max, as much as you did with Captain Hornigold. I want her and the street as my friend and show her it is in her best interest to be my friend as well."

Eleanor folded her hands in front of her and met his blue eyes that shone with concern. "I understand." And yet, only now did she fully grasp that she was about to confront a woman she had complicated feelings for. It would not make her self-appointed task for him any easier.

Rogers flicked his fingers at the clerk. "Go have someone fetch some outdoor boots for Miss Guthrie – a lady's boots, size four."

Once Rogers had six redcoats rounded up for her and boots, she set out for Max's brothel. The effect of redcoats marching down the street was immediate. While there had been soldiers about, guarding the tavern where pirates could sign their pardon or patrolling the beaches and street, this was the first armed escort they witnessed. People stopped whatever they were doing and tried to glimpse who was that important to have that show of force.

"It's the governor," said the first who saw the redcoats coming. All were curious to have a glimpse of him. "Where is he going?"

When the escort came closer, they saw no man in official attire. In fact, they did not see a man at all. At the heart of the escort, walked a woman with blonde, flowing hair in a stylish red dress – one they all knew. They all stared at her, speechless. Then they looked at one another in a manner that spoke volumes. There had been rumors uttered by some that Eleanor Guthrie was on board the governor's ship, but that had been dismissed or laughed away. Captain Hornigold had made no mention of her, and he captured her after all. But there she walked, returned from the dead, with six redcoats pushing and ordering people to make way, more powerful than she was ever before. How Eleanor could be living and be here was a baffling mystery. They had celebrated her capture, laughed at the news of her conviction, and feasted her anticipated death. Not one of those who had done so though, wished her to ever get a whiff of it. So, they stepped, jumped or stumbled aside hastily. Some took of their hats and bowed their head, mumbling, "Beg pardon, Miss Guthrie." But all sighed in relief when she passed them by without ever looking at them.

"Move aside! Coming through!" the redcoats shouted, as Eleanor tried to get through the inn's doorway.

"You can wait here," she told them and stepped inside, looking about her.

The women downstairs were gobsmacked. Only one girl seated close by, and apparently new to Nassau not to have known Eleanor, got up from her chair and welcomed her. "May I help you, miss? Are you looking for someone?" The girl was young with pretty blonde hair, not unlike her own.

"I wish to see the owner of this establishment – Max."

"Max? Oh she has her office opposite the street. At the tavern."

"The tavern?" said Eleanor darkly. The tavern! My tavern! My father's tavern! That false bitch! The other whores pretended to be deaf, looked away and held a muted conversation.

"Yes, the tavern that used to be owned by that dictating Eleanor Guthrie before they hanged her. You know, where they performed a play about it and she received the kiss of death." One of the whores got up from her chair, eyes wide. She swerved around to make her escape up the stairs to her room. Others followed her example, clearing the bar area.

"I am Eleanor Guthrie," she said, dryly.

"Oops," the girl giggled. "Beg pardon, Miss." New and stupid, thought Eleanor. A fool.

One of Max's more experienced whores, called out to the girl, "Georgia, can you please help me out with my sash?" She gave Eleanor a curt nod and a polite smile.

Eleanor whirled around and crossed the street. How dare Max take it from me! She had expected Mr. Frasier to be running it, or somebody, somebody else than Max - anybody I would have found acceptable, even Charles, but Max of all people! She had a foul play in my tavern to mock my trial and celebrate my death? Eleanor felt sick for a moment, as bile rose with the cold rage. Max had spit and danced on Eleanor's presumed grave. For the first time, Eleanor considered the possibility that Max was the traitor who had informed Captain Hornigold of her whereabouts. Was it Max who put me bound to sea? Max's greed had shocked her when she learned of Max's plan to send Rackham to fetch the Urca gold. This went far beyond greed though. As she now looked back on it all, it seemed that Max had plotted against her since... since Ned Low. Was this what Max was after from the start – to take my business, have my rightful position and see me dead? Was Max this perfidious? Whatever did I do to her that she hates me so? Not love her the same way that Max claimed to love me? Or had even that been a feign? Eleanor had loved Max, cared for her the most, but loved Nassau more. Oh, how blind I was! Too trusting, unlimited, even until the very end. What a foul plot! Max had not even dare to set a bloody mark on the business, but had it painted with fairer colors.

Anybody on the street who had lingered to see whom Eleanor Guthrie had business with could see that she was a on a war path. They expected fireworks, and now that it was clear where and for whom Eleanor's lightning would strike, they felt safe enough to mill around her escort and follow her to the entrance of the tavern, for at least it would not be them.

("Virtuous Wife" or "Good Luck at Last" suite (Henry Purcell): the tune Eleanor hums is the "slow air" of that suite (melancholic). I sought a baroque composition that could fit Bear's musical piece of 3x07 scene. Purcell was a renowned English composer, befit the national feelings of England raising the flag on the island. Psyche is the Virtuous Wife to Cupid (dream) and "Good Luck at Last" foreshadows Rogers' mood in the coming chapters. Link: /0zY8ZCurGNg?t=4m29s

Persuasion (Jane Austen): Captain Wenthworth helps Anne Elliot into a carriage. The touch is like a burn. A good visual of that is the movie with Cyaran Hinds as Wentworth (early 90s).

Twelfth Night: Lilywhite's remark about good hangings preventing bad marriages quotes the fool to Olivia's chambermaid Maria. Hence, the same name for the woman in the scene, who calls Lilywhite mad, a fool and chastices him on his drinking like the play-Maria chastices Sir Toby Belch (Olivia's uncle). Eleanor takes on the actual role of the messenger in Rogers' service to woo the 'street' and Max, like Viola does for Orsino with Olivia. Olivia falls in love with Viola (dressed as Cessario) and Max has a love interest in Eleanor.

The Tempest: The people on the street are contrite for their feasting her death, like Alonso and Prospero's usurping brother and their retinue submit themselves to Prospero and wish to make amends. Together Eleanor and Rogers take up Prospero's role by pardoning and forgiving everyone, except Caliban who plots to kill Prospero the father and take Miranda for himself. When Eleanor discovers Max owns her business, her thoughts allude to Prospero's story about his brother's betrayal to become the duke of Milan, and yet not daring to put his own red mark on it. Prospero was set onto a boat to die (no rigging, leaky, even the rats jumped aboard), as was Eleanor.)