Images of Broken Light

After luncheon, the Captain spent a long time in his cabin with Mr. Pullings and Mrs. Stirling. The men whispered among themselves that the pirates were there for their share in Old Flint's treasure. Others said that it was the curse of the evil spirits who had guarded the treasure come to wreak revenge on the men of the Surprise for daring to disturb it. To that, some argued that since they had buried the skeletons with a prayer, there was no curse. Of course, the skeletons were the Earthly remains of seafaring men and thus should have gone to at sea. Clearly, men were shaken and worried, but for the most part they still trusted their captain and few spoke against him.

Stephen did not attend the meeting, and he wondered at it. Was Jack insisting that they marry at such a time? At times, he embodied such priggish hypocrisy that it amused Stephen, but he could not imagine him breaching such a delicate subject now. On the other hand, the taking of the Walrus was to wait another night when the moon would be dark, and perhaps Jack was attempting some kind of distraction. It simply did not seem like something he would do; therefore, Stephen wondered and waited.

When they finally emerged from the Great Cabin, Rose went straight to her own cabin without speaking to anyone and Tom came up on deck but said nothing of what had been discussed. From his uncharacteristically grim expression, it was plain to see that he did not like what had been decided. Had the lady refused to honor their engagement?

When he entered Jack's cabin for dinner, Stephen asked if the lady would attend. "I think not," replied his friend. "She is preparing her letters and papers before we enter into dangerous action."

The implication shocked Stephen. "You cannot mean to allow her to – "

"Were there another way, I wouldn't." Jack shook his head and muttered an oath. "The evidence, the papers, must be taken to safety. Everything is secondary to that. If she's right, and she has been thus far, then there's a chance, a good chance. If we don't even the odds, they'll come gunning for us, and as I told you weeks ago, the only way to accomplish their task is to leave no survivors."

Well, obviously he had been quite wrong about Jack insisting that the pair be married right away. "Was all that time this afternoon spent convincing you?"

"A fair bit of it," admitted Jack, "though she took the most convincing, for she did not want Pullings along with her."

"Are they to go together?" asked Stephen, wondering how wise it was.

"He refused to have it any other way." With a huge sigh, Jack poured himself some more wine and took a swallow. "Oh, how the two of them go at one another, haggling and tempers flaring! Poor Tom! What an unfortunate match he's made."

The doctor, who saw nothing unfortunate at all in the situation (quite the contrary), made no comment. "Would such a wife be a detriment to a man in his position?"

Jack considered it for a minute. "It is difficult to say. It very well might be the last nail in the coffin, for he's unlikely to ever make captain. However…" He swirled his wine and sipped once, then again. "Admiral Bellows is a powerful friend. If she could convince him to support Pullings for her sake, it might make all the difference."

"I cannot imagine her doing such a thin."

"Nor I," sighed Jack. "No, if he does marry her, poor Tom may well end his life as a half-pay lieutenant."

Midmorning, while making an entry into his diary in his eccentric shorthand, Stephen was surprised by Rose's entrance into his cramped office. Though dressed again in her proper summer gown and with her hair pinned up, she looked weary and dark smudges beneath her eyes indicated that she had slept very little if at all. In her hand, she carried a stack of letters tied both around the middle and lengthwise with a ribbon. "May I ask you to hold these for me in safekeeping?" she asked without any preamble.

No stranger to the practice, for officers especially gave items of value to the keeping of their comrades before they went into battle, Stephen found himself filled with terrible sadness and regret at the situation. Despite her rather dramatic faults and flaws, he was immensely fond of the lady and admired her a bit more than he cared to admit. Rarely in his life had he ever had the pleasure of knowing women who had not become disenchanted with life. Something happened to a woman's face when she reached a certain stage in her life, though the actual age varied, and a combination of disappointment, resignation, surrender, and bitterness affected her appearance. The very few who avoided this fate could reach old age without losing remarkable beauty despite wrinkles and white hair.

He wondered how ardent Rose had avoided it in the face of such hardship and tragedy, but he answered his own question: she lived as one whose veins seems to run with red wine rather than blood. She very well could have remained in England after leaving school. Then, she would have likely married and set up housekeeping, which would have been a slow, sad decline into matronhood for one so spirited. No, the fiery offspring of a pirate and a gentlewoman had followed in her parents' footsteps: she had escaped the fate that had been decided for her by others and had carved her own life despite pain and adversity. With a deep melancholy, he wondered would Rose, indomitable and unafraid, would she fade and weaken if Pullings were killed and she survived?

To her, he said only, "Of course, my dear."

"There is nothing of value I own save the Calypso, which will pass to the boys of course. They will become wards of Captain Hawkes who has been a great friend of mine and Richard's many years." With a little shrug, she added, "These papers will explain everything."

"I shall never have to open them nor deliver these letters," he assured her. "For I shall certainly return them to you by tomorrow nightfall."

A tiny smile trembled on her lips. "By the stars, I hope you are right."

The middle of the graveyard watch found all the officers of the Surprise awake and on deck as the gig was lowered over the side. Eight men had been chosen to row out over the reef and into the open sea; they counted themselves lucky that the current would be with them. All of them were heavily armed and wore plain civilian clothes.

The captain had a last few words with Pullings and Mrs. Stirling. Once again in her loose trousers and shirt, the lady now wore a heavy belt which held a massive knife in a sheath and two pistols of excellent quality. A smaller sword belt held a light blade at her hip, and she wore an old fashioned tricorn with a black plume. Under her arm she carried a parcel, some faded sailcloth rolled up neatly, and to Stephen, she looked the role. Of course, she had a certain piratical air that made her so appealing to sailors, but now she looked dangerous. He wondered if it was merely the weapons or something more, some unease at her quiet air of confidence and efficiency.

Before departing, Rose approached Mr. Allen, and he nodded politely to acknowledge her. "It well may be that we will not have the opportunity to speak again," she said. "I hope that whatever happens, you will take your share of Flint's blood money and do some good with it. I fear most of these men will drink up their shares in a fortnight."

At first he did not reply and stood frowning at her. Then he drew in a breath. "Ma'am, if I have misjudged you…"

"Not at all," she said quickly. "You have seen me plain without the genteel façade. No, you have seen the truth, the worst of me along with the best."

Slowly he nodded, and as they stood looking at each other, a sad little smile passed over the lady's features. Never again would he regale her with his sea yarns, nor ask her opinion on the set of the sails, nor yet come over to chat with her on the quarterdeck. No, the past could not be recaptured: there was too much painful knowledge between them to return to those carefree, merry days. Perhaps a mutual respect would develop over time, but the abrupt severing of their friendship hurt her keenly and it showed. "Farewell, sir. Gods grant we shall meet again."

"Good luck, ma'am," he replied with slight awkwardness.

Stephen stood waiting by the rail with the bosun who was to help her climb over. Embracing her and kissing her upon both cheeks, he said, "Good luck to you, and may the angels watch your every step."

The lady could not help a smile. "Farewell, Stephen, and thank you for being such a true friend." Then, she handed him her little roll of sailcloth and went over the side before taking it back and climbing down to the waiting gig. They pushed off in the darkness and there was the quiet sound of oars and water as they moved away until they disappeared into the darkness and the night grew quiet once again.