Twenty-Three
"Oi, Sir Robert, that bloke what you said ter look out for is 'ere." The filthy boy shoved open the door of the lean-to and stuck his head inside, squinting in the dim light.
The huge man behind him smacked him across the head. "It's Captain Tanner, you wretch, not 'that bloke', and dun yer forget it." The boy squeaked and scurried off.
O'Shea rose from the disintegrating pallet that had been his bed for two weeks. "Ah, Tanner, well done. Was worried you might not have received my message." He held out a sweating hand that shook slightly.
"Been drinkin' again, eh Robbie? Don't bother denyin' it, I can see it across your face." Tanner spat onto the dirt floor. "So wot's the job? I was in the middle of a profitable bit o' business when you hollered for me."
"I'm in no mood to apologize. You brought a full dozen men as I asked?"
"Eleven countin' me. Got us a nice little six-gunner we took offen a man wot don't need it no more." Tanner smirked evilly. "On account of cos he met wiv a most unfortunate and fatal accident. I've got my men hid belowdecks like you said, but it's tight. They ain't gonna stay there forever."
O'Shea rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. "I've got a visitor coming tonight. She'll be joining us aboard, whether she wishes to or not." He grimaced when Tanner bellowed a laugh. "Gah, hold yer noise. She's a valuable baggage, she is, and we can get a fair amount of gold in trade for returnin' her in one piece and unharmed."
"Can we now? I'm liking this plan. But why the hell would she be comin' to this end of town? I can't fink it's just to see your pretty face."
O'Shea leaned closer to Tanner, his lip curled. "Because she's my sister, and she knows exactly what I'm capable of if she don't do what she's told."
Tanner eyed the older man admiringly; he might be a drunkard, but he could put together a plan better than Old Scratch himself. "I got yer. I heard tell about that little mutiny on Santiago. Lookin' to rebuild your empire, are ya?"
"Make no mistake about it, my murderous friend, I will have my island back someday. And as it happens, my sister has made some rather well-off friends, and we can use that." O'Shea lit a foul-smelling oil lamp. "Once she's aboard, we'll send the lad with our demands, and then put out to sea a bit until they send a man to parley."
Tanner shrugged. "Sounds pretty safe ta me. What if she don't come, though?"
"Oh, she'll come. I've had her watched, and she's become very fond of her new friends. She won't want to risk them having any 'accidents'." O'Shea's face, lit by the smoking lamp, looked like a devil from hell. "And Tanner… if anyone but me shows up, kill 'em."
"Got ya. We'll leave a lantern lit ta welcome yez." Tanner laughed again at his own wit, then strode his way into the back alley behind the tavern and disappeared into the night.
-
Caitlyn was white as salt when she'd finished the letter. Sarah stalked the bedroom angrily, fists clenched. "The bastard! Your own brother saying such things! I wish he was here right now."
Caitlyn sighed and stripped off her gown. "Will you go downstairs and just tell everyone that I've gone to bed?"
Sarah was relieved to see her friend being so sensible. "That's my girl. We'll tell James all about the trouble in the morning, and he'll take care of it, you'll see." With a last worried glance, she shut the door behind her and hurried down stairs to rejoin her friends.
Norrington looked up anxiously as Sarah entered the parlor. "Well, how is she? Will she be all right?"
"Yes, brother, she just has a fierce headache. She's gone to bed."
Elizabeth and Will rose together. "We'd best be going, then, it's rather late anyway," Elizabeth said kindly. Norrington nodded, and they began to gather up Elizabeth's shawl and hat.
Geoffrey Bainbridge smiled down at Sarah. "You've been very good to Miss O'Shea. She is lucky to have you for a friend."
Sarah flushed, but met his gaze, her heart thumping. "She's been a good friend to me as well."
The carriage was sent for, and the Turners stepped out into the fresh night air. Norrington had no sooner closed the front door than Kidder stepped forward. "Begging your pardon, sir, if I might have a word?"
"Yes, Kidder, what is it?"
"It's about Miss O'Shea, sir. I saw her in the upstairs hall but a moment ago. She seemed to be wearing men's breeches, sir."
Norrington's gaze fixed on Kidder's face. "Good Lord. Did she look flushed? Perhaps she's got a fever–" He broke off and rushed up the stairs.
Sarah ran to the dining room window and flung it open. Sure enough, Caitlyn was dropping to the ground before her eyes. "What the bloody HELL are you doing?" Sarah hissed loudly.
Caitlyn was utterly calm. "Going to meet my brother, of course."
"I told you to leave it to James! You'll be killed in that part of town. Caitlyn, stop!"
But her friend just smiled sadly. "I'm going to take care of Robert once and for all." She patted her hips, and Sarah noticed the outline of a pair of pistols dangling from sashes that Caitlyn had slung across her body.
"You've lost your mind!" she gasped. Caitlyn shrugged, and slipped off into the alleys of Port Royal.
Twenty-Four
The weeks of exploring Port Royal were paying off, as Caitlyn stepped surely through the streets and back alleys. She had been afraid, but that was gone now. Now she felt only a strange lightness, for one way or the other, by dawn she would be a free woman. No more fear, no more dread. That part of her life was over, and she herself would bring it to pass.
She didn't falter in her direction till she was within a block of the Pig's Eye tavern, and then the sounds of drunken carousing and the sight of a customer being tossed into the street gave her the clue she needed to find the hellhole.
She sidled through the front entrance on the heels of a large, ill-smelling man of huge proportions, using him as a shield of sorts to block her from the view of the room. This worked until he paused at the bar; but by then she'd seen the back door her brother had described, and made a dash for it.
The back room was dim, and grew positively dark once the door had swung shut again. Caitlyn plastered herself against the backside of the door, waiting for her eyes to adjust. The tavern noise covered any sounds the occupant might have made; but she could smell the stench of rum sweated from pores.
A flint was struck, dazzling her for but a moment, and then the glow of an oil lamp enlightened the dank little storage room. "Right on time, I see, dear sister. I hope you brought what I asked?" O'Shea lounged at his ease in a decrepit chair, propped against an old crate. He looked very satisfied with himself. "Breeches, eh? Can't say they suit you." He looked her up and down insolently.
"Damn you, Robert, and your demands. Twenty pieces of gold just like that? Did you expect me to rob my friends?" Caitlyn's voice was low and terse.
"I didn't expect anything of the sort, sister; I assumed your paramour would have been happy to help you with a trifle of that sort. After all, I am family."
"Not any more, you bastard." Caitlyn drew a pistol, cocked it, and fired point-blank. Only O'Shea's still-quick reflexes saved his life that time; as it was, the bullet took off the top of his left ear.
He let out a yell as the blood streamed down. "You crazy wench! I'll–" he lunged for her, but she side-stepped him neatly and delivered a kick to his ribs that knocked the wind right out of him. He lay gasping on the floorboards as she drew her second pistol.
"You just couldn't leave me alone, could you, Robert? When I got your letter I knew I'd have to do this, or I'd live in fear all the rest of my days."
"It's bloody-handed foul murder, you'll hang for it!"
"Consider it justice, brother. After all, no one but me ever figured out that you were responsible for my mother's death, and so many others. Just call me the avenging angel." She wanted to sound cocky, fearless, but a tear slipped down one cheek. The pistol at his temple made an ominous click as she drew back the lock.
O'Shea's luck held. The door swung open suddenly as Grimsby barreled through, knocking Caitlyn back and setting off the pistol. She rolled, pulling a wicked-looking dirk from a hip sheath as she came to her feet. Grimsby lashed out with a heavy cudgel, and Caitlyn dropped like a stone at his feet, her eyes rolling back.
"Jaysus, Grim, she's no good to us dead!" O'Shea sat up, pressing an ancient handkerchief to his ear.
"Shut up, O'Shea, or I'll shoot you myself. She's out cold, but if her head's as hard as yours, I'm bettin' she won't be out for long. The cart's out back."
-
"You've been a great help, love. If fate is kind to me, I'll be back to thank you later, aye?" Jack took the bar wench's hand and bowed over it as if she were a lady in satin.
"Oh, Captain, yer too kind. But I'll take my thanks now, if you please, three shillings as agreed." The girl crossed her arms, her expression stern.
Jack made a face as he fished in his pocket. "To think that a lass of such tender years could be so hard-hearted. Mr. Gibbs, round up as many of the crew as you can and meet me at the docks. I'm wanting to have a bit of a chat with this Captain Tanner."
Ten minutes later, nearly twenty of the Pearl's crew were present when Jack hailed the ratty little sloop moored nearby. "Ho the ship! Is Captain Tanner aboard?"
A single dim lantern in the prow backlit the figure on deck. "Captain Tanner ain't got time for chitchat. Wot yer want?"
Jack's smile was deceptively disarming. "I've been informed that the captain and I might have a mutual acquaintance by the name of Robert O'Shea. I've a strong desire to know where Sir Robert might be found."
The dark figure turned away and stepped toward the tiny hatch leading belowdecks. Gibbs could hear three loud thumps. It was obviously a signal, for suddenly the hatch burst open and a gang of scurvy ruffians swarmed out onto the deck, leaping for the dock with blades drawn.
Almost before they knew it, the Pearl's crew found themselves in a ferocious fight that quickly backflowed into the streets near the wharf. The sides were evenly matched until four of Tanner's men took to their heels into the alleys. Tanner found himself with the tip of Gibb's cutlass beneath his chin.
Jack sheathed his sword as he sauntered up to Tanner, an ominous grin on his face. "Now then, mate, as I was saying. I'll be needing to know the whereabouts of Robert O'Shea. And be assured that I am fresh out of patience. Savvy?"