Eleanor learns how long it may take before they reach Nassau and realizes she cannot bear confinement in the hull for that long without having anything to do. She explains to Rogers how she maintained control for close to eight years and manages to ease some of his suspicions about her, for which she is rewarded with a book to read to occupy her mind. Mrs. Hudson reveals slightly too much regarding the state of Rogers' marriage.

Chapter 4 - The Reader

The Gloucester was not mentioned again. Its continual presence and her view of it, whenever she was allowed on deck, was reminder enough. After her first confrontation in Rogers' office, she was allowed on deck daily for an hour in the company of Mrs. Hudson for exercise and fresh air. Eleanor saw little of Rogers. Even when he was on deck while she was, he paid her little or no attention except for an acknowledging nod.

The day after they passed the South West tip of Ireland, Eleanor noticed Mr. Eames lowering a device in the water. At first she thought he was measuring the knot speed, but as she edged closer the device seemed more akin to a thermometer. "Beg pardon, may I ask why you are measuring the temperature of the water?"

"I am verifying the Governor's knowledge about ocean currents." Eleanor shook her head to indicate that helped her little in understanding. Mr. Eames smiled. "It has to do with finding a faster route for the Americas than the usual one."

For Eleanor who so far only had been interested in the whereabouts of ships sailing near the Bahamas, transatlantic voyages were a mystery. "Why? Captain Hume sailed from the Bahamas to England in little over a fortnight. Can it be done quicker?"

"Oh no, Miss Guthrie. Ships are required to take an entirely different route from the Americas to Europe than to the Americas. One can sail on the westerlies from Florida to Europe fast enough, but the same route usually goes against those winds. So, most ships sail to the Azores west of Africa and cross the Atlantic on the trade winds that take you to the Caribbean."

Eleanor had seen enough maps to know they were not on that route. "Mrs. Hudson told me yesterday that was Ireland we saw, and I'm fairly certain that is not in the direction of Africa."

"Correct," nodded Mr. Eames. "The Captain General wishes to take another route. The common route to the Caribbean is the Spanish route. He wishes to establish another one."

She frowned. "Spain and England are at peace now, aren't they?"

"Yes, but we were not eight years ago, when he tried it the first time to avoid the Spanish. Besides this route might save time." Before Eleanor could interrupt him again, Mr. Eames took out a pencil and his notebook. "During his time with whalers in Newfoundland, Governor Rogers learned of a particular water phenomenon. Some parts of the Atlantic are warmer than others, even carrying kelp with them, though there is no land nearby. Whalers mapped these waters, because whales use it as a route." Mr. Eames made a quick drawing of two landmasses and what appeared to be a stream between them. "It's a river of warm water in the Atlantic, going only in one direction, from the Caribbean to Ireland and the Channel. So, together with the westerlies this stream of warm water slow ships down. However, depending on the season the westerlies taper down, and if you avoid the warm stream, we could probably make it to the Bahamas in less than fifty days."

"Fifty days!" Eleanor said in shock. "That is close to two months."

"Well, the Spanish route takes three months." Mr. Eames shut his book of notations.

Frowning, Eleanor said, "You were measuring the temperature of the water, so we can avoid this Atlantic warm river?"

"Exactly! We will probably hit that stream in a few days. But then we will sail south until we have crossed it, and turn west again."

Eleanor was displeased at hearing the voyage might take close to two months. Not that she felt ready to face Nassau, just yet. But being stuck in the hull of a ship for that long, without anything to do and only one hour on deck, seemed worse.

It was not until they hit that stream of warm water, that Eleanor was called to Rogers' office to have the continuation of her story put on record. This time, instead of wanting to know how she managed to have pirates listen to her, Rogers wished to know how she had maintained her seat of power for close to eight years.

"Well, I owned the tavern, where sailors and men came to drink. Drunk sailors have a hard time keeping their tongue, and so were a source for leads on ships to hunt. I used part of my gains to invest in establishments owned by other business men, such as Mr. Noonan of the brothel, where men reveal their secrets to the whores." Eleanor did not fail to notice that Rogers tapped his fingers on his desk. Eleanor ignored this sign of his annoyance at the subject. "All the gathered leads I would pass on to pirate captains who made good profit, could manage their crew and prevent them from murdering captives who surrendered, who did not oppose my interests or sought to sell their goods elsewhere." Eleanor explained how she would cease to give further leads to pirates who were bad for business, how she paid less for bloodied barrels, and gave up rebellious pirate captains as leads for other pirates to hunt.

"You owned the street basically." The governor stood and turned his back to her as he looked out of his quarterdeck window. In a low, restrained voice, he said, "And you used their self-interest to either keep them in line or serve your own interest."

Eleanor fumbled her dress. "In a way, yes. I used one man's greed against another's."

Rogers turned and stared at her. She could almost hear him think – and a man's lusts too. "Which pirates did you favor with leads?"

"Well, Charles Vane originally, until he became too rash, let his crew run wild and acted against my own interests. Captain Flint was far more reliable. But these two were the strongest and most cunning Nassau pirates at sea."

The governor approached the desk and rested his hands on the back of his chair, raising his eyes skeptically. "This caused no rivalry between them?"

Eleanor bit her lower lip. "There was. Vane murdered men of Flint's crew who were crucial for Captain Flint to remain captain of the Walrus after another crew member challenged him for the captaincy. A ship belongs to the crews, not the captain, and his word is only law during a battle. In the end, it made no matter. Flint bested his challenger for captaincy in a fight."

Rogers squinted at her. His arm and shoulder were tense. "Was it just leads and captaincy that Flint and Vane competed over with each other?"

Eleanor gaped at Rogers. She glanced at the clerk for a moment, realizing Rogers wished to know whether Flint was a lover of hers too. There was a time when Eleanor had been very much attracted to Flint, and there even had been a short moment where she thought that Flint would have kissed her, bedded her when he felt betrayed by Miranda Barlow and wound up wandering into her bedroom. Eleanor would have let him too if Flint had wanted it. The moment passed though, with Flint kissing her forehead, like a father or elder brother. When later Miranda warned Eleanor that Flint would never see Miranda as his enemy, Eleanor had known deep down that Miranda had spoken the truth. Flint's loyalty to Mrs. Barlow was indestructible. Flint's dislike for Vane was grounded in Charles' lack of vision when it came to Nassau. But Rogers' question made her wonder whether Charles ever feared that Flint would become her lover.

"Well?" said Rogers as his eyes hardened at her with every passing moment. His hand gripped the back of the chair more tightly.

The notion alone struck her as ridiculous. Surely, Charles knew that Flint visited Miranda inland whenever he could. Besides, Eleanor had given her maidenhood to Charles. He was the only man she ever slept with. Eleanor shook her head, and gave Rogers a short and clear spoken answer. "No."

The governor's features softened somewhat. He let go of the chair's back, eased himself down into the seat and smiled. "Perhaps, it is time to call for tea."

And so, the ritual of Eleanor preparing his cup repeated itself, with the difference that Rogers did not confer with the clerk this time, but simply sat back and watched her as she poured tea and spooned sugar into his cup. As concentrated as she was on the tea, he studied her hands and her wrist. Slowly, his eyes trailed her arm and her figure until they settled on her face for a while. Who needed to look at a miniature portrait of his wife, when a woman who resembled her was preparing his tea for him. Well, resemble was an exaggeration. Apart from the blonde hair there were too many differences between them. Miss Guthrie had blue eyes and under the influence of light they appeared greenish. She had fuller, pouting lips. She was taller, her face longer. Most importantly, her eyes and the set of her jaw were fiercer, almost masculine, with a feral type of attractiveness that usually offended him. But as he traced her hands holding the spoon of sugar and tipping it into tea, he noticed her figure was filling out somewhat - especially above her bodice. He studied her eyelashes that threw a shadow on her cheekbones, adorned with a newly acquired blush. Rogers was struck by the notion that indeed she was quite feminine and very attractive.

At some level, Eleanor was aware enough of Rogers appraising her in a manner he had not before, so that when she handed him his cup, she felt quite shaken, whereas this time his was steady and reassuring, as was his smile.

Finally, they resumed her story and Rogers wanted to know more about rivalries between other crews as well as who was part of the street and in her pocket, other than Mr. Noonan. When he finally dismissed the clerk, he inquired after her accommodations on the ship and how well Mrs. Hudson serviced her. "When you prepared tea earlier, it struck me that you have regained some color, Miss Guthrie. And your posture and figure seem stronger than before. I take it that you feel healthier. At least you look healthier."

Eleanor dropped her eyes. "Yes, thank you. And my room is alright, given the circumstances. Last time I was seasick all the way to London, but the fresh air of the window does wonders."

"Good," he smiled pleased. "It does neither of us any good if you could not keep your food down. Are there any particular preferences you have that I may tell my cook?" He rolled his eyes. "Well, for as long as there is still some choice."

It was such a simple genuine question, so easily asked, costing nothing, and yet one Eleanor had so rarely experienced that it impacted her like an earthquake. Only her mother and Mr. Scott had ever shown interest in her little preferences or her health. Max and Charles had professed to love her, murdered or intended to steal for her. But had they ever even asked what I wanted, what I preferred? No, they tended to tell her what they believed was best for her, told her what to feel, think and want, and they had resented her when her preferences did not agree with that. But here was a man who would send her back to London to be hanged over Wapping without thinking twice, and yet he was far more interested in seeing to her needs and preferences than any of them ever had.

"I am mostly fond of fish," she said.

Rogers laughed, a startling warm one. "Then you are in luck. It will be the sole fresh thing we will not run out of."

Hesitantly but emboldened, Eleanor then asked, "May I ask you for a favor?"

"Ask, Miss Guthrie, and I will judge whether I will or can."

"I confess I am rather bored, sir. I understand the need of my general confinement and that there is little to do for me aboard a ship, but I prefer to be preoccupied with something."

"Hmmm," said Rogers with a far more serious face. "You have led an active life and have an active mind. Perhaps Mrs. Hudson can serve you more as a companion?" That was not exactly what Eleanor had in mind, and it must have shown on her face, because Rogers volunteered, "And since we are in open water, you are free to come on deck whenever you wish it by day."

"Thank you." She thought she ought to be grateful of the freedom of movement, but for some reason she believed that looking out onto sea would not do all that much for her, nor would sitting with Mrs. Hudson. She had never just sat with anyone throughout an evening, but she believed it usually meant sitting still and embroider or something of that nature.

Again, Rogers was perceptive enough of her hesitation. He sighed. "Did you have anything in particular in mind yourself, Miss Guthrie? If you do, then please be frank about it. I'm not a mind reader, you know."

Her eyes fell on a stash of books on a shelf. "Perhaps I could have something to read?"

"A book?" Rogers said astonished. "That is what you would have of me?" His smile returned and he chuckled. "Why did you not say so immediately? Of course, you can have a book." He walked to the shelf. "My library is at your disposal. What type of books have your preference?"

Eleanor honestly could not answer that. In Nassau, she had never read much, other than the bookkeeping. Reading anything else seemed a waste of time. Adventure stories were nonsensical flights of reality in her eyes. She was no seafaring captain and therefore had no need to read naval or voyage books either. "I have no preference, really. I am not a great reader." Then she remembered he had actually written a book of his own. "Perhaps the book about your voyage?"

Rogers squinted. "No, I think not." Her smile faltered. She had not meant much by it, except satisfying her curiosity about him. Then he asked, "Would you allow me to pick one for you?"

Eleanor nodded, still feeling like a scolded child, while Rogers turned and perused his books. Finally, he pulled one out, approached her and held it out for her. She took the book in hand and read the title. "An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, by John Locke." Eleanor leafed through it and then shut it without comment.

"I do not carry my own book with me. I have no need to read it, since I wrote it," said he. "And I actually doubt my memoirs of my voyage would satisfy your curiosity." His eyes sparkled amused, and there was a hint of a smile. "If you wish to be a studier of character and unlock the secret of my soul, Miss Guthrie, then you may find this one far more rewarding." He turned away from her. "Good day."

As Eleanor walked back with Mrs. Hudson to her room, she was completely puzzled by it all. Once inside, Eleanor turned the book over in her hands. What had just happened? Did Rogers attempt to distract me with the book from learning facts about him, or had he been sincere? Did he just patronize me, like Charles would do? Or did he actually acknowledge my need to know him better? In a far more practical sense, Eleanor wondered how a philosophical work as that of Locke's could help her understand her captor better. What use is philosophical writing to a practical woman? She tended to admire men who were great thinkers, but believed they must have lives of ease and comfort where others could take care of the practical for them.

Eleanor dropped the book on her little table. She laid herself down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. But she had done that too many times, and she was much too restless. Then she remembered he had promised to allow her freedom of movement. She could not remember whether Mrs. Hudson had bolted her door. Eleanor got up and tried the door. It swung open. I might as well go on deck then.

As soon as she did, she noticed the men glancing at her. She usually went on deck in the morning, after breakfast, and in the company of Mrs. Hudson. Never this close to noon. At least Mr. Eames nodded in greeting to her.

"Why are you on deck?" asked Commodore Chamberlain from behind her.

Eleanor turned around and faced the commodore. That man aimed at showing his disdain and distrust of her whenever he had the opportunity. But his snobbish attitude did not hurt her, and instead sparked her pride. Eleanor lay her head to the side. "My door was open and the Lord Governor has given me permission to seek the air whenever I wish by day, sir. Did he not yet inform you of this?" Chamberlain sniffed, straightened his back, and pressed his lips together even more than she believed could be possible. "Come, sir," she said with a pleasing sweetness. "Where would I go? Where would I flee? Are we not all something of a prisoner aboard a ship unless we prefer to drown?"

Just then Mrs. Hudson joined her, anxious and smiling. "It's alright, Commodore. I will remain with her."

"Stay out of our way and on the quarterdeck." Chamberlain turned without another word or look.

"Hateful man," Eleanor muttered under her breath. And then she said to Mrs. Hudson, "Is he as unpleasant to you as he is to me?"

"Women are merely tolerated aboard," said Mrs. Hudson. "And it does you no good to challenge that man. He is the head of the Royal Navy here."

Eleanor followed Mrs. Hudson up the stairs. When she looked at the horizon, she saw the fleet as a miniature archipelago of sailing islands, surrounded by an ocean of deep blue hue, the water lapping and bumping against the hulls. The past days the sky had been a blue-grey blanket of heavy clouds, but today a watery sun tried to reach out through a thin misty sheet. This time of the year, even this far north for her, the veiled sun was warm enough to make her close her eyes and experience how it warmed her skin.

When Eleanor opened her eyes again, she noticed Mrs. Hudson quietly standing next to her, looking out across the stern. The woman had some melancholy air about her. "Do you have children, Mrs. Hudson?"

The woman looked up surprised at Eleanor, and then fast away again. "Yes," she whispered. "A boy and a girl."

"What are their names?"

"David and Jane."

Normally mothers volunteered information about their children freely to anyone who showed interest in them, but not Mrs. Hudson. If Mrs. Hudson did not want to discuss her children with Eleanor, she was not going to press. Instead, she asked, "How long have you been in the governor's employment?"

"Close to ten years."

"You mentioned you serviced daughters of privilege before me." Eleanor twiddled her thumbs. "I suppose you serviced the governor's wife all that time?"

"And his daughters."

At that moment, Eleanor felt some pity for Mrs. Hudson. In order to feed her own children, she had taken care of another person's children and was now forced to sail to the other side of the world and leave them behind. At least the men and women in my service either had their family with them or had none. "How many children does the governor have?"

"A son and two daughters. William will be ten soon. Sarah just turned nine and Mary will be eight. His youngest son, Thomas, never survived his infancy unfortunately. Caught a fever. Thomas would have been four this year."

For a moment, Eleanor was stupefied. While she had known he had a family, hearing their ages and names made it less abstract. He is a father of three. And he too is leaving them behind somewhere in England. At least they have their mother, though, unlike Mrs. Hudson's children. "What are his daughters like?"

Mrs. Hudson's ice blue eyes met hers for a moment. "Like most daughters of privilege - accustomed to large dinner parties and balls, pony rides and gowns. Mrs. Rogers requires the best of the best for herself and her children, whether there is money for it or not. Little Sarah is much like her mother, and not in name alone. Mary is a sweet child though."

The financial remark did not escape Eleanor's notice. It seemed to her that Mrs. Hudson was not overly fond of Rogers' wife. Or at least, Mrs. Hudson sounded as critical of Rogers' wife as she was of Eleanor. "My father had the good sense to have me tutored in economics and business, instead of looking pretty, embroider and hold dinners," she said.

Mrs. Hudson sniffed in disapproval. "And look where it got you."

"Still alive in service of a man, who seems to have had his fair share of loss. And despite all that, people still invested and lent him plenty for this operation, trusted him. If it teaches me anything it is not to give up."

"You compare yourself to the Lord Governor?" scolded the other woman. Mrs. Hudson shook her head in remonstration. "You are a convicted pirate. You have no credibility. His credibility relies on the fact that he paid off every penny of his debt – filed for bankruptcy, sold his home and ensured no repeat of personal debt by having sent his wife and children to live with his far more prudent mother in Bristol, regardless how Mrs. Rogers liked it." The woman pressed her thin lips together, as if she suddenly realized she had said too much. She stepped towards the rail of the stern, resolved to say no more.

Eleanor touted her lips in surprise and sucked in her breadth. He married rich, but at the same time his wife had been his financial ruin. Not only pirates do not know how to manage their spoils. "You are a very loyal servant to the governor," whispered Eleanor. "What you disclosed will never pass from my lips. And I'm sorry if I offended you."

Mrs. Hudson clenched her hands into fists and turned around slowly, facing her. Eleanor thought she looked truly shaken. "You are the first daughter of privilege to apologize to her chambermaid."

"I doubt many reigned over a criminal enterprise in a pirate's republic either." Eleanor took a step closer. "My guardian was my father's slave, Mrs. Hudson, but he was more of a father to me than my real one, after my mother's death. Nassau is different. New Providence is different. It is a meritocracy of the cunning and the physically powerful. My father clung to his privilege, remaining as far away as possible from his source of income, pretending he was a respectable man. He hated the truth of the source of his fortune." Eleanor licked her lips and tasted the salt from the sea-air on it. "I never did though. There are many things that I have done, that I had others do, for which I'm ashamed now, but recognizing that most people – no matter to whom they were born or what color skin they have - are human beings who can feel as much pain and joy as I can is not one of those things. Still, we all have our roles to play. So, I will be a father's privileged daughter, convict and informer and you will be mother, servant and companion."

Mrs. Hudson stared at Eleanor, until she finally lowered her eyes and bowed her head to Eleanor. That evening, as Mrs. Hudson sat with her with her, sowing and mending, Eleanor's eyes fell on the book that Rogers had lent her. If she had been allowed more of a practical occupation other than embroidery, she would never have made it passed the first few pages. It was a philosophical work about the nature of the mind, of language and formation of personality. Eleanor nearly threw it aside again, but not wanting to provoke Mrs. Hudson into giving her disapproving looks for sitting idly, she frowned and persisted.

(Twelfth Night: Allusion to Duke Orsino telling Viola he has unclasped for her the book to his secret soul, though Rogers does not give the book as a key for Eleanor to understand him, but to form her.

North & South (Elizabeth Gaskel): The tea serving scene where Margaret Hale serves her father and his guest John Thornton tea . Thornton is entranced by a bracelet around her wrist.

Science: beside the social gender contract, society brings culture, philosophy and science exampled by Mr. Eames measuring the temperature of the seawater to check for the Gulf Stream. known to Spain since the 16th century and used to sail from the Caribbean to Spain. Benjamin Franklin gave the stream its current name and published the map of it in 1770 with the help of whaler's info. English merchants were unaware of it. Commonly the voyage from North America to England took 2 weeks, but 3 months in the opposite direction, via the trade wind Azore-Caribbean route because of the drag the Gulf Stream causes. It is fiction that Rogers uses this knowledge to Nassau 55 years ahead. His historical voyage to Nassau in 1718 took 3 months, via Canary Islands. The show truncated the sea voyage and passes along Bermuda (where Hornigold gets on board, near the Sargossa sea), the sole English island colony 12 days away. This means the show uses the fast route via Ireland, avoiding the Gulf Stream and using the tradewinds to Bermuda and from there to the Bahamas. The Azores route would take him straight to the Bahamas, and conflicts with what we see in the show. Since, Rogers apprenticed as a sailor in Newfoundland (and thus whalers), I solved this by allowing Rogers to try and use whaler knowledge.

Rogers' marriage: Rogers returned a poorer man than he left England after 'round the world trip, despite the many prize ships, because Sarah built up debt. It is a logical inferrence that Sarah may have had a hole in her hand or did not know how to manage money. Again this compares to Middlemarch's Rosamund.

Rogers' children:William was born in 1706, Sarah in 1707 and Mary in 1708 (after Rogers already sailed off). His second son Woodes was born in August 1712 and died in April 1713 (Thank you Melis_Ash for filling in the unknowns). Since his brother died on his voyage, I named the second son after Thomas instead. Mary died in 1712. In this fanfic she still lives in 1715-1716. The brother's name is mentioned as being John in some sources, but the most reliable sources refer to him as Thomas.

Embroidery: funny in light of 4.01)