A/N: Long story short, I lost my job at the ens of the spring. So, given the choice between writing and picking up odd jobs, writing lost out every time. Fortunately I am finally working again and I got my major assignment out of the way, and I have gotten back on the writing horse. There is a companion chapter that will be coming out very soon. If you will forgive me for getting a little personal, I am really coming to hate a certain character. Much love to the best beta anywhere: MaleficentKnits. Jasper Whitlock is property of S. Meyer. All else belongs to me.

13 Sep 1862

Joshua Taylor had been very fortunate in his life. Multiple times early in his career he had come dangerously close to losing everything he owned. More than once his only ship had come close to meeting a watery demise. His personal finances required were such that he relied on the generosity of others, and the occasional theft of food, in order to eat. However his dogged determination to be successful and overcome any challenge eventually led him find wealth beyond even that of his daydreams back when he started out.

In the three and a half decades since his fleet expanded from one ship to eight, he had married Ruth Blake, a beautiful and loving woman, who had borne him a daughter who taught him a whole new meaning of what love is. Looking back on his years, he would have gladly traded all of his wealth and success if only he could guarantee them in his life.

Although not likely to admit it, he was personally and secretly filled with excitement for the dance that was coming this very night. Major Whitlock had already arranged to escort his sweet Melody to the ball, which would allow him an evening to be with his beloved bride of thirty years. Notwithstanding his wealth and standing, he found that time to be with her exclusively was rare, but remained every bit as special to him as the early days of their marriage and honeymoon. Tonight, he would be able to court his Ruth with neither daughter nor servant around.

He always wanted to tell her how much he loved spending time alone with her, but for all of his business acumen, Joshua never had developed as an orator or wordsmith. The various attempts he had made in the past were orally clumsy and came off as if he had been attempting to butter her up before confessing some great sin. He had, therefore, given up on expressing the depth of his feelings for her in words. Instead, he poured himself into his business in an attempt to demonstrate this affection by showering her with any whim her heart or mind could desire or imagine.

Ironically, it was this very work to which he had devoted himself for her that was also the very thing that had drawn him away from her on so many occasions.

And so it was this day.

"Mr. Taylor, sir," said a scraggly looking man with an unkempt beard standing before him. "None of us was expectin' it either."

Standing before Taylor in the office of his home was an unkempt stranger. The middle aged man bore a scraggly beard, but it was his calloused hands, raggedy clothes, and dark tan that validated that he was an old salt of a dock worker.

"But you are sure it is mine?" Joshua asked the stranger.

"Of course, sir. Ain't too many ships round here called the "Albatross."

Taylor nodded in agreement.

"Then again, most men don' aim to temp their fates with such a name either," the stranger muttered.

"If you understand Coleridge, then you understand it is the bird who led the sailors to safety, but it was the Mariner who…," Taylor trailed off upon seeing the glassy-eyed expression on the stranger's face. He was apparently not one to read epic poems.* "Perhaps I should just say that too many have misunderstood the moral of the story."

"I wouldn't know, sir, but you should hurry along."

"Too right you are," Taylor said as he stood up. He then reached into his coat's breast pocket and withdrew a small leather folder, pulled out two dollars, and offered them to the stranger. "I thank you for your trouble, sir."

The stranger accepted the money without a word but bowed his head as if to say thank you. With that, he excused himself and departed.

He gave the order to prepare his horse and buggy, stopped to give Ruth a kiss. He assured her that he would not miss their evening, but that she should be prepared to meet him at the ball since he would likely be detained with work. All in all, he was leaving no more than fifteen minutes after receiving the good news.

His ride was uneventful, but he was not bored. Mr. Taylor couldn't help himself from thinking about what might be aboard this ship. He was fortunate to have one ship run the blockade a few weeks back, but to have a second one so soon was nothing shy of amazing. He was truly amazed by his good fortune.

The trip from his house took the better part of a half hour, but he was actually excited as he crossed Mechanic Street heading towards his warehouse on the Strand. He couldn't see The Albatross at any of the piers that were visible at the end of the block he was riding down, but that certainly didn't mean anything. It could have been docked anywhere in the harbor.

However, he did notice one thing that seemed strange. The main doors of the warehouse were not open. This was not necessary, as they were loading from the pier-side, but usually the laborers would leave the city-side doors ajar for both light and to allow a cross breeze while they work.

Taylor led his horse to stop parallel to the street, set the brake, and stepped off the buggy to go and see what bounty had arrived. He stepped up to the oversized cargo doors, and put all of his weight into it as he grabbed the handle to slide it open. The door creaked and the casters squealed as the warehouse opened up.

He looked inside to see nothing. There was barely even any light, as the late afternoon sun slipped through some uneven planks in the siding.

"Hello?" Taylor shouted as he stepped inside. He listened but heard no sounds except for the noises some distance outside of the warehouse. After a few seconds he spoke up again, "Is anyone still here?"

Suddenly, he saw a bright flash of light and a brief moment later he felt a searing pain in the back of head. He moved his right hand to his head and felt something warm and wet. Pulling it back to his face, he tried to focus, but his vision was blurry. All he could make out was that there was something dark on his hand.

Somewhere in his mind he understood this was blood, but he had not consciously realized that fact yet… just as he had not yet realized he was laying on the ground.

"Of courthe thomeone ith here, Mithter Taylor," a near-toothless man lisped with a chuckle. "We wouldn't 'f called you down here fer noffing."

Taylor laid there attempting to figure out what was going one. He now heard multiple voices, but they were glorified whispers more than anything else. He flopped his head over toward the sounds. Three outlines were silhouetted against the light outside of the door as if having a conference. Taylor was still not thinking clearly, but he was attempting to get up without considering what he was doing. When they saw this, the three men sprang into action.

One man hurried out the door and the other two turned toward him. As he stood, Taylor got dizzy and fell to his knees. Now that they were closer, he saw that one man holding a long piece of wood slightly larger than an axe handle. The other man grabbed Taylor and yanked him up to his feet again.

He focused his attention on the piece of wood. The unknown man twirled it a time or two in his hands as he stepped closer. Taylor, though his head was throbbing, was regaining himself mentally, but he could not yet control himself physically to resist. All he could do was mutter one feeble word.

"Why?"

The man walking toward him chuckled. "Becauthe I have to."

Taylor knew what was coming and he closed his eyes. A moment later his head jerked violently and his body spun quickly to his right as he took a hit directly to the jaw. He lay on the ground untouched for a few moments. He spat out the blood that had been pooling in his mouth. It mixed with the tears and mucus that he didn't realize he had been producing.

The sounds of horse hooves clopping echoed through the empty warehouse as the third man brought Taylor's buggy inside. The man with the lisp stepped closer. Taylor didn't want to think about what was coming. He didn't worry about the pain, because he could not imagine it being any worse that what he was already experiencing.

"Don't worry, Mithter Taylor. It'll all be over thoon enough."

Upon hearing this, Taylor could only think of one thing, and muttered his final word.

"Ruth."

A moment later, the task was complete.

*This is a reference to Samuel Taylor Coleridge's epic poem "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner." Many think the story proves the albatross to be bad luck to sailors. However, in the story, an albatross guided the ship to safety after a storm blew it off course. The Mariner later shot the bird, which brought the wrath of the sea spirits who punished the Mariner for doing this, and the crew for supporting him.