Chapter 2: Discussions and Decisions about Pirates
The way home was both uneventful and quiet. Before leaving she'd draped a black cloak around her shoulders and pulled the hood on to conceal her identity, and as added security, she'd taken a small dagger her father had given her when she was thirteen. It was a long walk to the jail and any number of drunken swine might attempt to attack. Evelyn tightened her grip on the dagger as she hurried past a pub. Though it was the middle of the night, fighting and singing still raged inside.
The faded sign of the Dawes' Inn that her family called home appeared just ahead. Her mother had been talking about buying black paint to replace the peeling letters. Evelyn would have to make a note to buy some the next time she went to town for supplies.
Luckily, she was seen by no one—until she shut the door and turned around. She emitted a tiny squeak of surprise. Eyes identical to hers glared angrily back at her.
"Thanks for that, Emerson," she hissed, placing a hand over pounding heart. "I really needed my heart to stop."
"If you tell me that you went to see Dad without me, then I'll feed you to the sharks."
"Calm down," she soothed with a worried glance at her mother's bedroom door. "You'll wake her."
"You were there," he insisted stubbornly.
She rolled her eyes at her older brother. "Yes, and?"
"I told you, Evy, that when you went I wanted to go too," he whined.
"Aren't you a little old to be throwing a tantrum?"
"That's not what I'm doing. You should have waited. Those streets after dark are no place for a young woman to be."
"Don't treat me like a child, Emerson. I'm only a year younger than you. Besides, I did wait for you, but when I left an hour ago you still weren't home and I couldn't wait any longer."
She turned quickly and traversed the path to her tiny room, tiptoeing as she passed her mother's door and then shut the door on her brother's foot.
"Ow!"
"Shut up!" she hissed, yanking him inside and closing the door with a soft click, wincing as its usual creek echoed down the hall.
"He really had you working hard didn't he?" she asked, taking off the cloak and laying it across her rocking chair.
"Yes, old Jenkins had a big order to fill and since he dismissed his other man, there's only the two of us."
"Did you finish?"
He nodded tiredly, rubbing his face and blinking hard as though to stay awake.
"Is that still what you want? Blacksmithing?"
"Honestly, Evy, I hate it. I don't mind hard work, but it's not the kind of work I want."
"So leave."
"Come on, Evy. If I did that, we'd have to sell this place. My wages don't offer much, but we need what help being a blacksmith does give."
She squeezed his arm. "You'll find it, whatever it is. Perhaps a pirate ship will come round and offer you the position of first mate."
He laughed softly. "Of course they will because I'm that fortunate." He then fixed her with beady eyes. "Well?" he demanded. "What happened? Is he all right?"
She didn't have to ask whom he meant. "For now. They're…he's…going to be hanged in two days' time." It sounded even worse to her ears when spoken out loud.
"But—no, that's not fair," he said angrily.
"Being a pirate doesn't exactly get you fair treatment," she pointed out.
"I know that," he said through gritted teeth. Though she knew his anger was not directed at her. "What can we do?"
Evelyn hesitated. She had taken the note from her father in good faith from a dingy cell when escape had seemed possible, but now in the safety of her room, the realization that her father was going to be hanged in two days with numerous armed Royal Navy officers swarming about, the possibility of escape seemed hopeless.
"Dad gave me a letter to give to another pirate whom he says will help him to escape," she said finally.
"Another pirate?" he asked in surprise. "Who?"
"Jack Sparrow."
"Jack Sparrow?" he whispered, voice suddenly reverent.
"Yes, that's the pirate."
"Jack Sparrow…who'd have thought?" He frowned. "What exactly landed Dad in jail anyway?"
Evelyn sighed tiredly, wanting nothing more than to take advantage of what few hours of night were left to sleep, but Emerson didn't move from his spot and waited expectantly for the tale. So she told him all she could remember, stopping to yawn occasionally.
"A retired Royal Navy officer double crossed him…our Dad?" he asked, unconvinced.
"He was roaring drunk at the time. By the time he knew what was going on, it was too late."
"Mm…" he mused. "So this double crosser has the map. Dad's in jail. He'll be hanged in two days, and we have to convince the infamous Jack Sparrow to help him escape." He sat back in her rocking chair, slumping against it and her cloak. "That's a tall order."
"No kidding," she said sarcastically. "Look, can we talk about this tomorrow? I'm exhausted."
"Sure," he said quietly, lost in his own thoughts as he left. "G'night, Evy."
"Evelyn," she corrected automatically. "G'night, Em."
Without bothering to change into her bedclothes, she collapsed onto her bed and immediately regretted doing so because something hard was digging into the small of her back. She pulled out the bottle of rum and eyed it dubiously. How could one bottle of rum convince Sparrow to help them? What sort of man would throw caution to the wind for even one drop of this foul stuff?
Well, one thing was for certain. She'd deliver the message and be done with it. With any luck, she'd never set eyes on another pirate as long as she lived.
Evelyn was wiping down the bar of the inn when her mother came in, skirts swishing in agitation, her eyes ablaze and in her hands, the bottle of rum. Evelyn's cheeks flushed and she ducked down behind the bar, cursing herself for forgetting to hide the bottle.
"Evelyn Melanie Dawes!" she shrieked, obviously having seen her before she could hide.
Evelyn slowly stood up. For an extremely petite woman, her mother's expression greatly resembled that of a charging bear. She marched up to the bar and slammed down the bottle of rum right in front of her daughter and folded her arms.
"Care to explain this?"
"Explain what?" she asked in her most innocent voice.
She pointed an accusatory finger. "Don't think you can fool me with those eyes. Your father used to try that and he never got away with it once."
"Dad always used to say that's how he got you to marry him," she pointed out.
"Evelyn, we are not discussing that man. We are discussing this bottle of spirits," Mum said severely.
She dropped the innocent expression, but was unable to look her mother in the eye. She hated lying to her mother, but what other choice did she have? If her mother found out that her estranged husband was back in Port Nassau, she'd be furious, but if she discovered her children were going to help him escape from jail, then she'd murder all three of them, no questions asked.
"It's not mine," she protested. "Just because we sell rum here at the inn doesn't mean I'd ever touch the nasty brew."
"You still haven't explained why I found it on your wardrobe in plain sight."
"I was up late cleaning last night and for some reason, I was still holding it when I went into my room. I must have been distracted."
"Why didn't you return it to the bar?" she asked through narrow, skeptical eyes.
"I was so exhausted that I didn't even change into my bedclothes. I didn't feel like going all the way back to the bar just to replace one bottle of rum."
For one terrifying moment, her mother just stared at her, obviously weighing her daughter's words carefully before saying anything. She unfolded her arms and her expression didn't soften, but it relaxed some.
"Very well. See to it that you put it back."
Her mother disappeared up the stairs, no doubt to clean the rooms above for the arrival of possible guests looking for a place to stay. Evelyn breathed out, unaware that she'd been holding it while under her mother's steely glare. She hadn't believed the lie and Evelyn knew it. Lies were not something Evelyn made a habit of, but as she recalled, each and every time, it nearly always had to do with her father.
What exactly had happened between her parents wasn't clear. They'd been apart nearly ten years now. Before that, however, everything was drastically different. Her mother had come from a wealthy family and they shunned their daughter's choice for a husband. Piracy was the occupation of scoundrels, murderers and men of ill breeding.
Through the years they were together, she traveled with him across the sea and in fact, her brother Emerson was born aboard the pirate ship Retribution. Yet Evelyn was still unclear about much of their history after that. All she knew was that her father had nearly died and her mother had then left the ship never to return, two children in tow and made a home here in Nassau for her family. Jameson Dawes would come around every once in a while, but he rarely sought an audience with their mother, preferring only to see his children.
Evelyn was shaken from her solemn reverie as footsteps thundered overhead. The guests were beginning to awaken and would be expecting breakfast. She shoved the rum under the bar for safekeeping until she could retrieve it later. To her annoyance, the Kensingtons were the first to arrive. Their ghastly children would no doubt have their eggs and jam strewn all about the room by the time breakfast was over. She braced herself and hurried into the kitchen lest the brats spot her and spill their milk all over her.
Again.
Much of the day and the next day followed the same grueling routine with Evelyn glancing nervously at the bar as though she could see the bottle of rum glowing, reminding her of the deed she was beginning to dread. When no one was looking, she'd duck behind the bar and make sure the bottle was still there because she wasn't entirely convinced her mother believed her story. As for the message written by her father, she kept it in the pocket of her dress, afraid to leave it unattended in her room. Was this what it was like to be involved in piracy? All secrecy and lies? If that was the case, then her dad could leave her out of it, thank you very much.
"Psst! Evy!"
"What?" she snapped, nearing dropping the stack of clean plates she had just finished washing.
"I need to talk to you. About tomorrow…and, well, you know," whispered her brother. "Meet me out back when you get a chance."
"Is Mum out there?" She wasn't about to seen by anyone.
Emerson's head swiveled around to look back into the dining area. "No. She must still be upstairs changing the bedclothes."
"I suppose I can take a break now," she relented.
They hurried through the kitchen door and out into the yard behind where damp sheets were strung on a line, drying in the afternoon sun. It wasn't the best of hiding places, but the flapping sheets provided some cover.
"We need to go over the plan again."
"Emerson, we've gone over it twice already," Evelyn said in exasperation. "Three times won't make any difference."
She started to walk away, but he jerked her back by her arm. "No, Evy. Everything has to be perfect so we can get Dad out safely. There's no room for errors."
"Don't you think Mum is suspicious enough as it is? She's been eyeballing me ever since she found the rum in my room."
"She doesn't even know Dad is back in town or in jail. She can't possibly know," he said reassuringly.
Evelyn hugged herself as a chilly sea breeze swept upon them. "I don't like lying to her."
"She'd never let us help Dad if we told her the truth. What she doesn't know won't hurt her."
"This is Dad we're helping. She loathes us even discussing him. Of course this will hurt her if she finds out."
"Look, I'm concerned about her too, but right now, we've got to help Dad. We can't just let him die."
"I know," she said, biting her lip to keep from crying. "Blast them for doing this to us."
Emerson put an arm around her shoulders in a hug. "Yeah, it is their fault, but if everything turns out fine in the end we have the power to make them feel really guilty."
Evelyn didn't want to laugh, but she couldn't help but snort. "I look forward to that day."
He chucked her under the jaw. "Chin up, dear sister. We have a plan to go over."
Evanna Dawes watched her son and daughter trying to hide amongst the laundry outdoors. Something was going on and they were deliberately leaving her out. She'd heard whispering a few nights ago and footsteps on the hall floor. Both had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since then.
She'd gone over every guess at least twice, but had come to the horrible conclusion that their father must somehow be involved. Her children weren't given to subterfuge. Evelyn especially, wasn't prone to lying, but the issue with the bottle of rum proved that she wasn't being truthful. Not once had Evelyn looked her mother in the eye over the past two days.
Jameson Dawes must have come back to Port Nassau and engaged her children in something dangerous. It was most likely illegal and the unscrupulous man was about to involve her law abiding children. Children he supposedly cared about.
She huffed. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
