"I will hurt you for this. I don't know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid." –George R. R. Martin, A Clash of Kings
-o-
"Ouch!" Jacqueline sharply drew her hand back from a green thicket, glaring. A small snake was curled up there, hissing angrily. "You little…damn." The reptile reared, and then darted away into the grass.
"Careful, there." Georges chuckled, exhaling smoke out his nose. "Those little bastards like hiding out."
After Connor had left to meet his father, Jacqueline had gone to Georges for something to do. She had known he was a black market trader, but she had no idea the extent of his reach. The market stretched from Boston to New York and everywhere in between—even a little bit of Canada, he proudly assured her—and was more effective than she'd like to admit. It didn't please her going to the market for work, but after a few days she felt admittedly a little lost. Connor was like her compass.
She knew jealousy was petty, but yet it burned.
Jacqueline glowered and pressed her bitten hand to her torso. "Thank you for the warning. Now, have you something for me to do or not?"
"I've not much for any skilled assassin, I'm afraid." Georges puffed at the pipe stem. "What're you looking at me for, besides? I thought you'd be off prancing through New York with the pretty boy Connor."
"…He's with his father."
Georges frowned and exhaled to the side. The smoke billowed in opaque puffs, and then dispersed into the branches of the tree under which they were sitting. "That explains things. I suppose you don't want to go because of the old Templar, right?"
Jacqueline almost answered, but then stopped and glared suspiciously. "How do you know about that?"
"You're forgetting who you're talking to again!" He nearly sang. "I know more than you think. Assassins, Templars, I have a vague grasp on who's who and what's happening, which is why I understand. And don't worry, I'm not taking sides, but if I were, I would obviously be on yours. So, now that we have that out of the way, what do you say we take a bit of a holiday?"
"I don't like the sound of that…I think your idea of a holiday and my idea of a holiday are very different."
"They both involve fantasies of muscular men, so maybe not so different. And as tempting as it sounds to hunt Connor down like a wild animal," He paused and grinned wistfully at whatever mental image he was cultivating. "I think it's in your best interest to take. A. Break."
"I don't want one." Jacqueline saw a glimmer of movement through the grass; the garter snake was scouting her out. "I want to do something useful. Something with meaning. Getting drunk is not meaningful."
"Isn't it?"
"No, it isn't." She stood. "I know what I want to do."
"And that would be…?"
Jacqueline walked back to Blanche. "I want to find the men who murdered my parents."
Georges sat straight up. "Wait, now. Are you sure? That's...where will you go? Home? Who's to say they're even still there? And if they are, would that make you any better than them?"
"I don't care!" She snapped back, louder than intended. Her anger had suddenly flared, but she did her best to tamper it. "I want this. I need it."
"Why now?"
"Because…because…" Jacqueline didn't want to say the real reason. Being around Haytham had resurfaced long forgotten memories, and a vengeful fire had been sparked inside her. But she wasn't going to admit that. "I don't know. I need closure."
He sighed, long and suffering, and took a heavy drag from his pipe. When he spoke, smoke leaked from his mouth and nose like a dragon. "What about Connor?"
Jacqueline glanced away. "He'll have to fend for himself for a while. I don't want him to know what I'm doing for once. He wouldn't approve."
"And how long are you going to be on this voyage?"
"Months, surely. Maybe a year. I don't know how long it will take me to find them." She pulled herself up into Blanche's saddle, the stirrups jangling. "I do not know when I'll see you again, so for now, this is goodbye."
"Farewell, dear Jacqueline. Do spit in the streets of Bayonne for François and me. A wretched fishing town, don't you think?"
"Yes." She agreed, almost too quietly for him to hear. "Wretched."
-o-
"Faulkner. Please." Jacqueline followed the drunken first mate-turned-captain as he tried to avoid her. "Connor isn't going to need the Aquila for a while, I don't think. I will only take volunteers, if that's what it takes."
"Lass, not a-one o' these scoundrels is gonna undertake some fool's errand 'cross the pond!" He slurred. It was the afternoon, and he had already started drinking.
"I just need it for a year, at the most." She gestured to the brig, floating in the bay. "Why do you need it so badly?"
"I don'!" He exclaimed. "I just don' wan' yer grubby paws all over it."
"Faulkner, I helped rebuild the Aquila. If not for me and Connor, you wouldn't have a ship for me to get my paws on."
"The answer's no!"
"Damn it, Faulkner, I—"
"Ahem."
The two who were arguing looked to see a sheepish Thomas edging toward them. "I couldn't help but overhear you, and I would volunteer to be a crew."
"Ha!" Jacqueline put her hands on her hips and turned back to a scowling Faulkner.
"Ya need more'n two people to crew a ship, lass." He grumbled. "Gloat when you've got one." And he stumbled away to sit against the wall of the shack.
Thomas turned to raise an eyebrow at her, and she at him. "How many crew members are you on good terms with?" Jacqueline asked.
"A few at least." Thomas held up a hand of cards and gestured back to a game he interrupted by volunteering. The three other sailors nodded to her. "And they know others. I'll be back in two ticks."
Not knowing what to do, Jacqueline waited while he rounded up willing crewmembers. She looked up the high cliff to the manor, and considered going to say goodbye to Achilles. She had told Faulkner a year, but she actually had no idea how long she was going to be gone. Before she could make a solid decision to visit her mentor, Thomas came jogging back, short of breath but smiling.
"We have a crew." He declared.
The next two days passed in a blur of getting the men ready and gathering everything needed, until all at once it was time to leave. Jacqueline dressed out in her seafaring uniform for the first time in what was probably years. Tall boots, a trifold hat and a blue and gold uniform all fit her well. After transferring the Queen of Hearts to her hat, she looked around the ship and walked up to the helm. Faulkner was there, along with the navigator. She didn't know the route back to France, only the direction—east.
"We're to set a course nor-nor-east, sir, and if the wind favours us it should be a swift journey." The navigator walked a compass across a crumpled and wine-stained map, where the ink was running in places.
"How long will it take to reach France?" Jacqueline stepped in, gaining both men's attention.
"We should reach Europe in about three months' time if the wind is in our sails and the water on our side. Ma'am." He added.
"Fine job, man." Faulkner slapped the navigator on the back, and he went scurrying off. "You're damn lucky I'm a charitable man, lass."
"You wouldn't be charitable if it stepped on your foot." She smiled and leaned against the wheel. "You're willing to go with us? It's going to be a long trip."
"Always wanted to go to France. How's the liquor?"
"Better than whatever swill you usually drink."
"Eh!" He laughed and pushed her aside. "Go help load boxes on. We need 'nough supplies to get 'cross the pond."
Jacqueline walked back along the boardwalk to help the sailors bring up crates of hard tack and barrels of fresh water. She was happy to see a burlap bag of oranges brought up along with all the supplies. Back and forth she went; carrying one end of a crate while someone else carried the other. Gunpowder, food, water, and medical supplies were their main concerns. At last, she found on the return to the dock that there were no more barrels that needed loading. She quickly boarded again and climbed up to the crow's nest. Thomas handed her a wineskin and she took a sip.
The Aquila lurched when the anchor was pulled up, and the brig caught wind out of the bay. The sailors who hadn't volunteered—the ones with families, loved ones, wives—bid them goodbye, blowing sarcastic kisses and waving spotted bandannas after the ship. Jacqueline waved back at them until the bay faded away into the distance, along with the manor and the hill, until all that remained was the water.
"Well," Thomas sat back. Only then did she notice he'd brought a small, beaten viola along and strummed an upbeat tune upon it, holding it sideways against his body. When he moved it, something clunked about inside the small body. It was out of tune, as far as she could tell, but she was no musician. "Shall we?"
"We shall." She beamed and looked out to the ocean, squinting into the salty air.
-o-
One month into their journey, they were good and out to sea. There were almost no other ships. The horizon was a vast, endless expanse of perfect blue. This far out into the ocean, Jacqueline enjoyed watching dolphins chirping and jumping in their wake. It was the first time she had been out since her arrival in the Colonies—it felt like she was travelling backwards in time. Sometimes she stopped and wondered just what the hell she was doing, or if she had gone mad. But then she remembered Haytham and Connor, and she was put back into her right mind.
Thomas continued to entertain with his curious instrument. He played short, tinny songs that often had raunchy or funny lyrics. Jacqueline knew he was the one who played in the galley when the nights were warm, and drinking and dancing was inevitable. But she was still baffled by the thumping sounds of something inside it.
"Now just what is in there?" She asked one day when she was on watch, eating a piece of tack and scanning the horizon. Her hood was down, the first couple buttons on her shirt open. It was sweltering in the summer heat, with little breeze to offer the sails.
Thomas strummed pointedly, and then gave the viola a little shake. "It's a mystery."
"Arse."
"I do have one." He smacked his hip and began on a tune he favoured.
"Where did you learn to play?"
"Originally, for my girl." He gazed off into the distance. "Lovely thing, she was. Pretty as a picture, with a mouth like a steel trap. Never fell so hard nor fast for a lass."
"What happened?"
"She died. Some nasty sickness or another. Watched her wither away."
"I'm sorry."
"Ah, 'tis nothin'. It's been a long time. 'Sides, when my serenadin' days ended, I joined the navy. Fell out, fell in with the drunk," –he nodded back to Faulkner at the helm— "And that's two stories in one." The tune came to an end.
"What's that?" Jacqueline sat up and peered out into the distance. A fleck on the horizon was moving toward them. Thomas handed her a spyglass and she squinted out at the approaching thing. A black flag snapped and wavered at the top of the ship. "Uh oh."
"What? What is it?"
"Look for yourself." She handed it off to Thomas and shifted around the mast to clang on a bell. "Captain! Pirates ahead!"
Faulkner, who had taken over for Connor, wasted no time. "You heard her, lads! Get to it! Ready the weapons, all hands to stations!"
The crew exploded into action. Higher-ups shouted orders, footsteps pounded across the deck, cannons were wheeled into position. Boom! A shot from the pirates went whistling through the air to rip a crescent of cloth off a sail. Thomas exclaimed in surprise, and Jacqueline flinched to the floor.
"Merde! That was too close." She straightened and watched as their ships drew closer.
"It's about to get closer." Thomas spun his viola around in his hand, the strings twanging sourly. In one quick move, he smashed it against the side of the crow's nest. He reached into the mess of broken wood and frayed strings to produce a big, heavy-bottomed pistol that was by some miracle crammed into the thing. "'To my dear Tom—for when you meet those pirates'." He read an inscription on the barrel, and kissed it. "She always knew I wanted to fight pirates."
"You kept that hidden just to break it out when you encountered pirates?" She asked incredulously, picking up a rifle and checking it for rounds.
"Aye. My girl had it made for me." He stroked the weapon affectionately. "Last real thing she did 'fore she fell ill."
Jacqueline smirked, but there was a call to brace, and she had to duck behind the thin walls of the nest. The ship was rattled by a few hits, but came to a more sudden than natural halt. She peeked up to check, and saw that hooks had been launched into the Aquila's starboard side. The scalawags on the other ship roared eagerly, rotten teeth bared in bloodthirsty anticipation. The crew of the Aquila put up a defensive line of bayonets to guard against the thieves who swung over and jumped across.
"We're in a good spot, mate." Thomas leaned out and aimed his special pistol down at the crowd. It went off with a massive bang that sent his arm reeling back, and a pirate toppled from a rope he was swinging on.
"I agree." Jacqueline was launching arrows as fast as she could load them, trying not to hit anyone in a friendly uniform. "These pirates are really no match for us, are they?"
It was true. The attacking party was dropping back and the few who remained were either ready to flee or fight to the death. Guns were banging and scimitars smashed about like an out of practise orchestra. Jacqueline stopped fighting and leaned over the edge of the nest to watch the fight go on, almost amused at how easily the Aquila's crew was trouncing the pirates. The smoke from the cannons was finally reaching them, floating up like earthly clouds. It smelled strongly and made her eyes burn. Before long, the pirates were killed off, and their tiny sloop sent drifting off into the ocean in the wake of the Aquila. Jacqueline watched it until it faded out of sight, abandoned and gutted. The sight made her vaguely melancholy, though for what she didn't know.
Shrugging the feeling away, she sank down into the meager shade of the nest and closed her eyes for some sleep. It was going to be a long journey.
-o-
-I know an obscene amount on snakes, okay. Like a mad amount. Like, don't-talk-to-me-unless-you-eventually-want-the-subject-to-be-snakes.
-So there will be another break from the story, obviously, this one maybe longer than the last. A lot of people have been saying they like when Jacqueline leaves the story occasionally, so your wish is my command.
-Review for sea shanties!