The sea stretched before them and the wind filled their sails. Gerald constantly kept the spyglass to his eye, so much so that he was sure it was leaving a mark. He didn't care, though. The constant north-east wind left him feeling confident that they would catch up to Arnold and those damnable pirates soon. It had only been a week since the attack, and the pirates only had a day's head start. The ship that the Lloyds managed to secure (with the help of a hefty bribe and slinging around their name and title), was small but it was fast. Gerald had no clue what would happen when they caught up to the pirates, but he would figure that out later.
"Are we sure we're going in the right direction?" Stinky asked looking decidedly green, "How do we know that we're not going to go careening off the side of the earth?"
Gerald groaned and lowered his spyglass to pinch the bridge of his nose. If only the Lloyds' money could have bought him a better crew. They money may have been able to get them the smallest, undamaged ship left in port, but it couldn't convince the sailors to defy Commodore Bassett's wishes and join Gerald on his rescue mission. So he had only volunteers to rely on. Those volunteers being Sid, Stinky, and a couple of older sailors unfit for regular naval duties.
"We're not going to fall over the edge of the earth," Gerald grumbled finally, "And I know where we're going. The wind hasn't let up or changed direction since we left port."
Stinky scratched his head in confusion, "If that's the case then wouldn't they be going just as fast as we are?"
"Their ship is bigger, but ours is faster. We'll catch up."
"Oh yeah, and what happens if we do catch up!?" Sid suddenly exclaimed, "How are we going to take on a whole shipload of pirates!?"
"I don't know!" Gerald threw up his hands in exasperation. "But we will figure it out when we get there won't we?"
Sid and Stinky exchanged wary glances but nodded and went silent. The other sailors were looking at him oddly as well, probably regretting their decision to volunteer. Immediately, Gerald felt anger rising to the surface.
"Why are you all making that face?" He interrogated, raising an eyebrow, "This is Arnold Shortman we're talking about here. He's done more for this port in the few months he was governor than that old, pompous fossil did his entire life!"
"Governor Reynolds wasn't so bad," An older sailor spoke up hesitantly.
"He was going to cut his losses, shut down Port Hillwood, and line his own pockets," Gerald swiftly reminded him, "It was Arnold who petitioned the crown convincing them to give us another chance. It was him who sold off assets from his mansion, to loan some of you money to keep your businesses open."
"A lot of good that did us," A surly, weathered man muttered, "Most of us are still on the brink of foreclosure. And it's not as if we have any means to pay back those loans."
Gerald stared him down until he withered before him. "At least he tried."
"Governor Arnold does seem like a swell guy," Stinky ventured, "I mean, I only met him once, but he shook my hand and looked me straight in the face when he talked to me. Not a lot of high collar fellas do that."
"Yeah, he's not a bad dude," Sid agreed reluctantly, "And Gerald wouldn't steer us wrong. Continue leading the way, sir." He finished with a salute.
Gerald only felt a little satisfied. In truth, the only thing he could really feel was determination and guilt. The determination to find his best friend, guilt for failing to save him in the first place. Ever since they were children they're always had each other's' backs. Arnold was there for him when his brother died. Gerald was there for him when his parents didn't return. And when his grandparents died, he and Arnold stuck by each other, feeling like they were the only family the other had. Gerald could still remember the day Arnold received the letter that set both of their lives on a new course.
"What are you so pale for, man?" Gerald clapped him on the back excitedly, "Do you know what that letter means? All of your financial problems are solved!"
Arnold sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "I didn't even know I had a great uncle… what's his name? Jerimiah Lester Sherman III? I didn't even know I had a great uncle named Jerimiah Lester Sherman III."
Gerald gently took the letter from Arnold's hand and flopped back onto the bed to read it. Turns out Jerimiah Lester Sherman III was the second husband of Phil Shortman's only sister. With no other living relative on his side of the family, Jerimiah's baronet title was being inherited to Arnold.
"Baronet is still better than, what are we now? A warrant officer wanna be, and … and… what the hell are you doing again?"
Arnold gave him a look, "I'm still looking at my options, which right now are very limited."
"Not anymore they're not," Gerald brandished the letter as evidence, "Think about it, with an inheritance and title comes money. With the money we can hire, no- buy a ship! Leave here, do what we want!"
"We?" Arnold looked over at him, eyebrow raised, "What about you and the royal navy? Are you planning on giving up on that?"
"No, but I don't plan on leaving behind my best friend either."
That brought a small smile to Arnold's face but he still couldn't help but shrug. "I think we're both forgetting about one thing. According to the letter, the stipulation is that I become Governor of this port called Hillwood. If I don't the inheritance is forfeited back to the crown."
Gerald shot back up and peered at the letter with a frown, "They can do that?"
"Apparently," Arnold sighed, "Who are we even kidding? I can't be a governor or a baronet. The only life I've ever known is this one. Without my parents… or my grandparents…"
Arnold's voice trailed off and his eyes became misty. Gerald comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Hey," He said softly, "Anything is better than this."
By this, he meant the empty room they were sitting in, the blanket covered mattress they were sitting on. The room had once been Mr. and Mrs. Shortman's master bedroom. It had long been stripped to pay for the numerous rescue missions that had taken place over the years. The rest of the house was in the same shape. Rescue expeditions, Phil and Gertie getting sick… Arnold had tried getting a job, he and Gerald pooled together their meager wages, but the debt only grew larger. Gerald didn't regret single shilling, though. Arnold was the only one left who looked at him without seeing the ghost of his brother. Maybe that's why Arnold felt like more of a family member to him than his own parents these days. His mom could barely look at him in his uniform without tearing up and his father never even said his name anymore.
"You're right," Arnold cleared his throat and shook himself, "It's… it's time I moved on with my life. I can't live in an empty house forever."
"Thatta boy," Gerald gave him a one armed hug.
"I can probably get you a position in Port Hillwood," Arnold suggested, brightening up a little, "I'm sure I'll have some kind of leverage as a baronet."
"Whatever you need, Governor Shortman," Gerald gave him a mock salute which Arnold returned with one of his own.
"At ease, Officer Johanssen."
"Officer Johanssen, a ship is approaching!" Sid suddenly called out.
Gerald shook himself out of his thoughts and looked in the direction Sin was pointing. He didn't need the spyglass to see a merchant ship heading towards them. Just a merchant ship. The flag was a company he recognized making his jaw clench. This particular vessel often traded with Port Hillwood, but they were also suspected of dealing with and smuggling pirates in other ports.
"Port and hold!" Gerald called back to his meager crew, "Stinky, raise our standard and hold."
"Sir!" The crew saluted him and began working to obey.
Slowly, the ship turned and slowed to merely bobbing in the water. The wind caught their standard and proudly displayed their naval mark. The merchant ship changed direction to come astride of them and slowed down to a stop as well.
"Steady," Gerald spoke to his crew in an undertone as he waved at the ship's captain, "We don't know exactly what we're dealing with yet."
A small row boat lowered from the merchant ship and headed to them. Gerald motioned for ropes to be lowered to anchor the small boat to them and allowed the person on board to come aboard.
"Sir," the man gave a half-hearted salute to Gerald, noticing his uniform, "What can we do for you?"
"We're looking for a ship with this marking." Gerald pulled out a piece of paper with a stylized sketch of a fox on it. "Have you seen it?"
"Hmm," the man stroked his scruffy chin, "I'm not sure, possibly. The sea is awfully big. And there are an awful lot of ships out there. Maybe if I had a bit of incentive…"
Gerald narrowed his eyes and fished out a crown, letting it drop to the deck with an aggravated air. Unabashed, the man scooped up the coin and pocketed it, then pulled out a letter from his jacket.
"We ran across them around two days ago," he confessed, "gave us this letter to take to Port Hillwood."
"Give me that," Gerald snatched the folded sheet of paper out of his hand and examined it. It was held closed with a wax seal that was indeed the fox insignia. It couldn't be anything other than a ransom note. Which meant there was a chance of getting Arnold back without having to engage in a possibly losing fight.
"Take this to Commodore Gabriel Bassett," Gerald ordered, handing the letter back, "And give him this message; 'We will continue to close in on the pirates and attempt to rescue Governor Arnold. But it is highly advisable that we parlay with them for his release.' Can you remember all that?"
"It's my job, sir," the man nodded, pulling on his forelock.
Gerald dismissed him with a wave of his hand and turned back to the bow of the ship. He allowed Sid and Stinky to see the man back to the merchant ship while he felt a small bit of relief. Now they had a plan. While he tracked the pirate's ship the ransom letter would get back to Commodore Bassett, and they could possibly have some backup.
"Hold on Arnold," Gerald whispered to himself, "we're coming for you."
The merchant ship didn't have far to travel. The commodore and his fleet had long set sail from Port Hillwood, scarcely two days after the so-called rescue ship left port. Commodore Gabriel Bassett couldn't get away from that poor excuse of a port fast enough. His second in command, Captain Douglas, handed came to find him in his stateroom after the merchant ship flagged them down.
"Two letters for you, sir," Captain Douglas saluted him, "As a well as a message from Midshipman Gerald Johanssan."
Gabriel barely glanced up from his maps, not even mildly interested. Night had long since fallen but he was still working. There was no rest for a man like him, a man who was far above these pathetic matters.
"Sir?"
"What's the message?" Gabriel asked, masking his impatience.
"Sir, Midshipman Johanssan informs us that he will continue to close in on the pirates and attempt to rescue Governor Arnold. But he urges us to parley with them for his release. Shall I give you the letters sir?"
Gabriel wordlessly held out his hand for them, finally tearing his eyes away from his work. He first opened the one with the seal of a fox, the seal of the Fox Hole. The letter was simply worded, both the handwriting and the language unrefined, the mark of an uneducated man. The ransom was relatively small but still barely affordable for Port Hillwood. The corner of his lips twitched up in an amused smirk. It was still too much. Captain Douglas waited patiently for his response when a hesitant knock sounded.
"Enter!" He commanded.
The door creaked open and Robert Simmons, a spineless man who insisted on boarding his ship, took a step in the room, rolls of paper under his arm. It was Captain Douglas who insisted on allowing him on board, claiming that he could be useful since he was once captured on board a pirate's ship.
"Commodore sir," Robert saluted him hesitantly, "I-I just saw the merchant ship leave. When I was a sailor they often carried correspondences from other pirate ships. Is there any word regarding Governor Arnold?"
Gabriel looked at him a long moment. He then held the opened letter over the flames of his candelabra. "None that concerns us."
Surprise showed on Captain Douglas's face but he said nothing as the letter started to curl and blacken. When it was half burnt Gabriel dropped it into the ashtray to let it continue to smolder.
"B-but sir," Robert Simmons stuttered.
"Hold your tongue, Simmons," Captain Douglas silenced him quickly.
Robert fell silent but continued to stare at Gabriel with a twisted expression on his face. Gabriel could feel his temper rising and his patience fading. Dealing with people like him was beneath him but circumstances forced him to endure.
"What is it?" He asked shortly, "What else do you have to say, Simmons?"
"I- I noticed something, sir," Simmons pulled out on of the papers he carried under his arm and unrolled it to reveal a map. "I was um, talking to some of the other men, sir, and I noticed something. May I approach?"
Gabriel barely managed to keep his lips from sneering but gestured him forward. Robert scurried over to an unoccupied space on the table and laid out the map. Gabriel felt his mouth tighten in contained fury as he eyed it. Across the map, black x's made a path across the ocean and various ports along with dates. A red line followed almost exactly, also notated with dates, one to two days behind.
"Th-the black x's mark where other pirates have attacked or been attacked," Robert explained, "The red line is the path that your fleet had taken sir. I, um, noticed that there was, um, some resemblance, sir."
"And what exactly are you trying to say, Robert?" Gabriel impatiently snatched the map off the table. "I have no time for this foolishness!"
Robert paled and visibly cowered before him, "S-sir, I-I-I-"
Captain Douglas threw him questions look, so Gabriel tempered his voice to be cool and commanding again. "The captain tells me that you used to sail aboard a pirate ship?"
"N-not quite sir," Robert licked his lips nervously, "I-I was just a common sailor when I was captured-"
"A likely story I'm sure," Gabriel looked at him coldly, suppressing a smirk from coming to the surface, "Captain Douglas, arrest this man on charge of piracy."
"What!?" Robert exclaimed in shock, taking a step back while Captain Douglas stared at him in shock. "B-but sir-"
Gabriel turned cold eyes on Douglas, "Captain, I gave you an order."
Captain Douglas looked unsure but wiped the expression off of his face and obediently grabbed Robert Simmons by the arms. Robert fought, of course, claiming his innocence, but to Gabriel, it wasn't a matter of innocence or guilt. It was a matter of his carefully worked plan coming to fruition. When the captain finally managed to drag out Robert, he opened the second letter, sealed with the insignia of a viper. The hand was much more refined, the language much more polished and sophisticated. A smile curled Commodore Gabriel's lips. Everything indeed was coming to fruition.
Another knocked sounded, and Captain Douglas returned, "Sir?"
"You may enter," Gabriel said carelessly, putting the letter away.
"Sir," Captain Douglas eyed Robert's map briefly before turning back to him, "do we have plans to parlay with the Fox Hole?"
"There's no need, Douglas," Commodore Gabriel showed him an icy smile, "There's no need."