Mrs. Hudson tells Eleanor and Rogers that Spain demands an extra gift from Rogers to placate their anger. Eleanor shares the bad news with Max, while Max warns her about the gossip she overhears in the tavern. Max gains a new insight. So does Eleanor during a stroll on the beach. Rogers reads the book his friend gave him.

Chapter 16 - The Sea Unicorn

The next day, Rogers and Eleanor sat in his office, overlooking the security plan for the exchange with Rogers compassing the perimeter. Max had confirmed earlier that Anne Bonny agreed to make the exchange the following day. The door was opened to let Mrs. Hudson in. Rogers looked up from the map. Eleanor expected to see a relieved Mrs. Hudson. Instead, Mrs. Hudson returned with a face stiff as the dead. It was worse even than when she revealed she was a spy for the Spanish intelligence.

"Were you unable to speak to your contact?" asked Rogers, standing.

"I did. I spoke with him." She looked down, her eyes flicking left, then right. "I-I don't know how to say this, but they demand more than the return of the gold and the cache."

Eleanor gaped at her, while Rogers dropped his compasses. "More? What more can I give them?"

Mrs. Hudson swallowed. "They want Captain Rackham, the man who stole the gold from the Urca de Lima's wreckage in the first place."

"Jesus!" said Eleanor.

"They are proud and very angry!" said Mrs. Hudson as if she was telling them some rehearsed speech. "They want appeasement and would regard a pardon for Rackham further insult."

Rogers' brow darkened like that of a thunderstorm. He circled round to look out of the window onto the market square and street. "You can tell them, they'll have him."

As soon as the woman had left, Eleanor rose. "This is bad! If the street learns of this. Max set up the exchange. She gave her word to Anne."

Rogers met her eyes squarely, defying her to disagree. "We have all the information we need – time and place. Max is in too deep now herself to betray it."Eleanor was rendered speechless. He avoided her accusing eyes, staring ahead of him out of the window. "I could refuse and remind them this was not the original deal." Then he bowed his head. "But I have nothing to bargain with."

Eleanor frowned. "Why do they ask for him only now? Why not before?"

"Because they did not know we had him, until today." Rogers stepped towards her. He gestured his thumb towards the door and lowered his voice. "She told them, on purpose or by accident. What else did she tell them? Do they know you funded the operation to hunt the Urca with Flint, which cost them a Man O War? And what about Max. She was Rackham's partner."

Mrs. Hudson knows, Eleanor remembered. And if she knows, Spain might too. She felt the blood drain from her face at the thought alone.

"If I refuse to give them Rackham, who might they demand instead? It is either Rackham - who wants to see Nassau burn - Max who gives me the street, or … you." The last was a barely audible whisper, almost a sigh.

Eleanor's heart beat rapidly and her breath was shallow, and not just because of the possibility of Spain wanting her for piracy. His deep blue eyes were full of worry. She felt the rest of the world around her drop away. She nearly took a step towards him, to repeat what she had done on the first evening in this office. But she remembered his remark on it being inappropriate, and so she glanced away and stepped back.

Rogers shook his head, as if coming out of a daze himself. "I do not begrudge the fool his freedom, but if Rackham had given me what I wanted three days ago, he would have been a free man already, and I could tell Spain to hunt him themselves." He strolled to his desk and rummaged through his notes. "Between Rackham, Max and you, the choice is quite simple."

Eleanor put more distance between them, trying to regain her composure. Looking at the map, she was reminded of the location where the exchange was supposed to take place. "What about Anne? If she does not see Rackham -"

"A well armed ruse - a carriage. It would appear as if he is in it. My men shall demand the cache first, take it and then ride off."

"She might attack them," Eleanor said. If this resulted in Anne's death, she was not sure what Max would do. "She cannot come to any harm." Eleanor shook her head. "Not even if she threatens to draw sword or pistol. Your men - they regard her as the murderer of Lieutenant Hersey. With the potential violence, how easy would it be for them –"

"I will order them not to provoke her, nor can they shoot or draw first." Rogers nodded to her. "Only in the direst need of self-defense may they use force, preferably to disarm her. Their main objective is to get the cache and leave."

Rogers noted that Eleanor touted her lips and furrowed her brow. "Anything wrong with that plan?"

She shook her head. "No, but the less the street knows about this, the better. He has friends inside town. His former crew took the pardons. What will they do if they learn their former captain is put on a ship to Havana?"

Rogers nodded. "You are correct. The cache and Rackham must needs to be put on board a ship at a secret location, of the coast of the island."

"I should go and warn Max. We used her for this, even if she volunteered. If she finds out after the fact…"

"Go," he said. "I will meet with my highest officers to divine a location and route."

As Eleanor entered the tavern, she could not but help notice an alteration in its atmosphere. There were fewer customers and it was all more orderly. She supposed this was because a lot of men were laboring. When Max saw her, she rose immediately and took her to Eleanor's former office in the back. "Does the governor require further –" began Max nervously.

"Max," Eleanor interrupted her, not wanting to leave her in any further illusion. "Spain demands Rackham to be sent to Havana along with the cache."

Max opened her mouth, closed it again. Her eyes were wide with fright. "N-no, they can't," she stammered.

Eleanor edged closer. "Rackham will not be freed," she said with the same gravity a judge once told her she would hang.

Max turned away from her and leaned with both her arms on the desk, catching her breath. "I swore to Anne that these terms would be honored. Surrender the cache and Jack goes free! I gave her my word!"

"I know." It distressed Eleanor to see Max so hurt. "They changed the rules so very late in the game. We could resist, but we have nothing to bargain with. Were there anything I could do, were there anything the governor could do, I assure you, it would be done. But either Jack is surrendered with the gold or Nassau burns."

There was a knock on the door. "Yes?" said Max, her voice wavering with tension.

All scrubbed up in a justaucorps and cravat, Featherstone entered with the books. "A few things that require your approval-" Eleanor looked apprehensively at Max, for Featherstone had been Rackham's quartermaster. Max stared at Featherstone as if he dropped in from another planet. Featherstone glanced at Eleanor, then Max. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, what is it?" Max said defensively.

Featherstone gaped at Max, then smiled and shook his head. "My apologies. Nothing that can't wait." To Eleanor he nodded. "I beg your pardon." He left the office and shut the door.

Eleanor edged towards Max, wanting to show she was a friend. Max stepped away from her to the bottle of rum on the desk. Eleanor did not know what to say or do. Max poured herself a tin cup full of rum. She leaned on the desk with one hand and gulped down a good swallow of the liquor. "When the governor's men arrive at the transaction without Jack and Anne sees this, she will resist. I would humbly ask that the governor's men refrain –"

"They have been forbidden from firing first," assured Eleanor her. This much she could do. "They've been forbidden from provoking her. They've been forbidden from using any violence against her at all unless in dire and unavoidable self-defense."

Max turned her head and stared at Eleanor, confused. "Why?"

"Because I demanded it," Eleanor whispered, with saddened eyes. "Out of respect for your partnership."

Startled, Max avoided to meet her eye. She grabbed the bottle of rum and cup and carried them to the large open window that looked out over the bay. Violin music from within the tavern sounded even outside and floated back into the room. A horse and cart passed. "I do not know which is worse that she perish fighting for Jack or that she survive without him." She poured more rum in her cup nd filled a second cup. "If it is even truly surviving, losing half of herself this way." Max pushed the second cup to the open space beside her – an invitation for Eleanor to drink with her.

Eleanor strolled to Max's side, lifted the cup and drank. The two woman stood in silence next to each other and watched the goings-on in the street, at the beach and the bay. And the past was truly the past then.

"Shall we sit?" Max grabbed the bottle and set it on the high table beside the longue chaise. She eased herself down onto it, while Eleanor seated herself in the armchair. For a moment they were just two women, free from society, free to drink and get drunk, sit and speak without censure. Eleanor rested her elbow across the back of the armchair, slouching. Both sipped their rum, slowly feeling slightly inebriated.

"That fucking chair!" Max said as she glared at the offensive piece of furniture behind the desk.

Eleanor turned her head just enough to see it in the corner of her eye. Yes, she thought, hateful thing.

"To gain it, it demands you win partners, call them friends, make them promises. To keep it, it demands you break them all." Max stared at the chair with disgust. "One day when all is settled here, we should burn that fucking chair."

And now she knows, now she understands, thought Eleanor as she watched Max, and brought the cup to her lips.

Tears glistened in Max's eyes. "My God, how I hated you." Eleanor lowered her cup without drinking and listened in dread. "There was a time in which I could not conceive of how I could ever forgive you. And in this moment, I am you."

Eleanor laid her head sideways, and took a deep breath. "I think my footing in this moment is far more precarious than yours."

"That is not what I hear." Coy, Max glanced at Eleanor from the corner of her green-brown eyes.

"What does that mean?"

Max traced her cup's rim with her finger. "Once pirates visited the inn and I heard what pirates said. Now that soldiers visit the inn –"

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "You hear what soldiers say." She shrugged her shoulders and chuckled. "And what is it they're saying about me?" Eleanor sipped more rum, grinning at Max over the rim of her cup.

Max's smile stiffened and she stared at the floor. "They say you are inseparable." Eleanor's heart skipped a long beat. There was no doubt in her mind that Max meant him. She suddenly felt like a night animal caught in the light of a torch. "They say he relies upon you more than any other." Max met her eyes and whispered. "They sometimes say more." Eleanor's breath was shallow. Her breast heaved up and down. "Did you know his men speak this way?"

"No." Eleanor lifted her chin. His men think we are lovers.

"It is only gossip for now, but sooner or later, it will affect him. Erode his support. Complicate the role he must play here," drawled Max. Though she had drunk and sipped a whole cup of rum, Eleanor felt parched. Max's words echoed into her head like a drill. Max looked at Eleanor with concern, with warnings in her eyes. "The governor's chair is no doubt as unforgiving as mine. It will demand the same kind of sacrifices and present the same sorts of dangers to those closest to him. You must know this as well. I will not insult you by offering you warnings of the dangers therein. But out of respect for our partnership, I thought you should know what is being said and also how near those dangers may very well be."

She heard Max's words, but the sound of her own blood rushing through her ears was louder. Affect him… erode … complicate… She heard his voice again saying, "inappropriate"… sacrifice… dangers… She's saying I'm close to him; that it's dangerous for me… Eleanor licked her lips and downed the rest of her cup. She felt lightheaded, woozy and as if she was about to burst out of her skin. And she could not keep a giggle down. "I think I have drunk too much of your rum. I must -"

"Yes, you should go." Max watched her closely. "Clear your head," she muttered and then looked sadly into her own cup.

That Eleanor admired the governor had been clear to her. And she had seen evidence of the pair having a fine tuned form of silent communication. But Eleanor's wide-eyed response just minutes before, her surprise that people talked of them, and her attempt to hide behind a calm exterior, convinced Max that Eleanor was drunk from love, not rum. Max had seen enough young women that worked for her, in love with some favorite pirate or nowadays a soldier, to recognize the symptoms. She even giggles like a woman in love when she hears others talk about him and her.

I never saw her in love before, not like that. That thought hit Max like a brick. She saw herself pleading on the floor with Eleanor to flee for Port Royal and start a new life there, together, that dreadful moment where Eleanor broke her heart. She had been so in love with Eleanor herself that she had been blind to the fact that Eleanor did not return those feelings. For months, Max had believed Nassau and business had been her rival for Eleanor's heart. In her agony, Max wanted to take it all away, make Eleanor feel the same pain. Even when Vane killed her father, you fucking hoped Eleanor would turn to you. Once she learned that someone had betrayed Eleanor to Hornigold, Max hoped that with Eleanor's inevitable death she would finally be free from her. But it was not Nassau. It wasn't her father or that fucking chair. It wasn't Charles or Flint. She was never in love with you. Though the realization hurt, like some old wound that had been festering for so long being torn open again, Max could not be angry with Eleanor anymore. Not her pain, not her anger could ever change the fact that Eleanor never loved her in that way, and had never meant to harm her, hardly even understood why it hurt her so. And in that moment, Max finally let go of her resentment.

Max was not wholly convinced whether governor Rogers returned such strong feelings for Eleanor though. That Rogers was comfortable and attracted to Eleanor, Max admitted. He watched Eleanor at meetings too often, sometimes as part of their wordless communication, at other times when Eleanor was unaware of it. But attraction was not necessarily love. He seemed too much in control of himself, too guarded and too pragmatic. Max found it difficult to discern any particular emotion towards Eleanor on the man's face. Quite the opposite of Vane, who wanted to hide his feelings for Eleanor, though they were always written plainly on his face. Some men conceal their feelings better than others, only to reveal them in close quarters, Max reminder herself. Rogers seemed exactly such a man. And the governor and his first senior advisor were often in close quarters, at early and late hours. Still, Eleanor's responses just now, confirmed for Max that nothing significant had happened between them, yet. Take heed, Eleanor.

Eleanor was in no immediate state to return to the mansion. When she stepped outside of the tavern, she walked the other way to the beach, towards the smell of meat burning. She meandered through the tents and wooden huts full of men. At first glance, the beach appeared no different than before. Except there were less tents, and the beach was clear of rampant litter and whores. Eleanor untied her outdoor boots and enjoyed the feel of the doughy white sand caressing her heels and toes. At the shoreline, low, warm waves rolled softly onto the white sand and dissolved into rustling foam. It was in this world, between the waves, that she had metaphorically been born and grew up. The water tickled her toes, and she lifted her blue petticoat enough to go a little further.

Max's had been meant to warn her that the governor's position would at some point demand of him to set her aside. Eleanor was in doubt and anxious. He made it clear to me he thinks it inappropriate. And she cringed with fright. But then she thought, and yet he implied there might be a you and I. And her heart soared with hope. Like the waves going to and fro, she swayed between fearing the worst and the best. I dare not offer what I desire to give, let alone take that I die of wanting. What should I do? Perhaps I should hide it better to silence the gossip? But Eleanor shook her head. No, the more I seek to hide it, the more bashful I become and reveal the bulk of it to all.

As she stood in the gentle, lapping surf, in doubt, a fleeting sensation that she was being watched crawled across her back. She circled around and looked about. Aside from the men preparing a roasted pig, the beach looked deserted. The huts appeared abandoned. Eleanor shook her head and her eye fell on a small, elongated, cone shell horns of sea-unicorns her mother used to called them. Eleanor bent down to pick it up, awkwardly trying to keep her petticoat from getting wet. She twirled it around in her finger. Unicorns, her mother had explained, were like invisible wild horses, sparkling white with a horn on their heads. Only a pure maiden could see one, touch one and gentle a unicorn's temper. Sea-unicorns were even more special. One could never hope to see one, not even maidens of the purest heart. But one could find their tiny horns on the beach.

"What does it mean?" she had asked her mother. "Are they dead?"

"No, Eleanor," her mother smiled. "They shed their horn, because they found their mate. Sea-unicorns are female sea-horses. And when they choose their mate, they lose the horn and reveal themselves to him."

Of course, her mother had made the sea-unicorns up. Their horns were shells. But as she twirled it between her fingers, Eleanor smiled at the idea of a sea-unicorn that had made her choice. And then, finally, she understood. Max does not know him like I do. Despite all the importance he put onto propriety, he was far less conventional. He does not care what his men think of him in relation to me. But he cares what his men think of me. He cares for me. He wants to protect me. She remembered the way he had whispered you that very morning and how it had made her all tingly, how butterflies took flight in her belly and an aching yearning settled between her loins. I choose, like a sea-unicorn. Maybe there are better men than him, but I do not aspire for a goodlier one. He may deny me, and yet I will offer it and remain his servant whatever his choice.

Though initially Rogers had been busy - five more men had fallen ill today - he started to wonder what could keep Eleanor from returning. When he noticed one of the clerks who drew up the pardons for former pirates at Max's tavern enter the assembly hall, he called out to the man. "Mr. Sutton!"

"Yes, sir."

"Miss Guthrie was to see Max of the tavern this afternoon. But she has not yet returned –"

"Oh, yes, Lord Governor, I saw her. She arrived there several hours ago, sometime in the afternoon. She was with the landlady, in her office, until an hour ago."

That long? Then again, Max would have been understandably upset and would need some consolation. But there just seemed to be no reason for Eleanor to stay away for another hour after leaving Max. Rogers glanced at the large windows. "It's dusk already."

Mr. Sutton lowered his tone. "I do not think she intended to return directly. I saw her veer left towards the beach. Maybe she went out for a stroll."

Eleanor taking a stroll… Rogers smiled politely at the clerk and thanked him. Sergeant Hopper confirmed he had indeed seen her hiking her blue petticoat and wade in the surf. "To pick up shells, my lord."

That reassured Rogers. Eleanor would not be at leisure, if she thought Max might cause trouble for him. Besides, we both worked long hours since the first day without ever really having time to unwind. Rogers could not begrudge her an hour's stroll on the beach. Still, an inner voice reminded him it was a beach full of former pirates and drunken sailors. He silenced it soon – she governed the island by herself for eight years. She can handle any of those drunken louts, no doubt, if they wish to cause trouble.

So, Rogers decided not to appear to be waiting for her and informed Dyson for his cook to serve his dinner upstairs in his apartment, and to keep a meal warm for Miss Guthrie when she returned. Once, he entered his apartment, he decided to follow her example. He let the work lie at his desk and walked to his shelf of books, read the titles, and his eye caught the book that had been gifted to him by his friend Daniel Defoe.

Rogers acquainted Defoe in London while seeking a publisher for his around-the-world voyage. The much older man had taken a liking to him and was keenly interested in the oddity of Mr. Selkirk surviving his years of being marooned. Defoe had gifted him Marmion's book in gratitude for giving deeper insight into Mr. Selkirk. Defoe was writing a novel about a man marooned on an island, inspired on Selkirk's character. Rogers tipped Cupid and Psyche out of the row of books on the book shelf and opened it on the first blank page. Defoe had written a dedication in it for him.

"May the zephyr bless you with a butterfly and some poetry,

your good friend, Daniel Defoe"

Rogers shook his head. What had possessed his friend to give him this book and write such a message? Rogers read Apuleius's Metamorphosis in Latin in his last years of his schooling, and so he was familiar with the legend. He had once seen a performance of Mathew Locke's semi-opera in London. But he thought it rather one of Defoe's idiosyncrasies to gift a love legend to a man as pragmatic as he was, on the eve before departing with a war fleet to conquer an island full of pirates.

He took the book to his personal desk, pulled his plate closer and started to read. In between bites he removed first his justaucorps, then his waistcoat, his cravat and finally his boots in the sweltering heat of the evening. Dyson came to take away his plate, of which he had barely eaten, and informed him that Eleanor had returned shortly and had gone to her room. Rogers read on about Psyche's sham wedding that was no wedding feast, but a funeral; her mysterious adventures on the island and her nightly visitor whom she was forbidden to see; her jealous sisters who convinced her that her husband was a monstrous snake she ought to murder; how she was surprised at his true form, fell in love, and made love to him while he slept; how Cupid got burned by the oil lamp, and fled from her in anger.

Major Rollins entered to give Rogers a report of Dr. Marcus's findings. It was as Rogers had feared - a disease to which the natives of the islands in the West Indies were immune. As Major Rollins left, Rogers tried to pick up the thread again of where had had left off in his book, when the door opened and Eleanor entered.

(Hidden Vane - On the beach, Eleanor feels watched. In 3x07, Vane hides in one of the beach huts. Vane is the one watching her unseen. He can spy on her from a distance but still focus on the mission. It also makes the timing of her choice more poignant.

Daniel Defoe - Defoe and Rogers were real life friends at least since his voyage book got published. How excatly they met is ucnlear, but Defoe was involved in a publishing business, a pamphleteer and political spy with connections, and somewhat morally dubious (financially). Defoe was also a voice of economical trade and English imperialism. He praised tradesmen and elevated them to being gentlemen, which is what Rogers was - a merchant, not of noble stock, but a gentleman nonetheless. Defoe published Robinson Crusoë in 1719, inspired on Rogers' Selkirk. It's ironic that Rogers' saved a "maroon", while Flint and Maroons plan to attack him. Defoe is also suspected to be the author who wrote "A General Hystory of Pyrates" (written under pseudonym). Rogers was a crucial source, while he was in debtor's prison after his first term as governor. The book made Rogers a hero in the public's eyes for a second time, and helped to clear his name and to a second, peaceful term as governor. I make Defoe instrumental of Rogers' fate.

Cupid & Psyche dedication - the zephyr wind is ordered by Cupid to blow Psyche to the island where he consumates their clandestine marriage. Psyche was used to indicate "the soul" by the Ancient Greeks, but its literal meaning is "butterfly". The first phase of the Cupid-Psyche relationship is a shameful one. Defoe urges Rogers to let go of his scruples and be happy with some woman in Nassau. It was not uncommon for men to take on an a mistress, especially after separating. Think of Louis XIV of France (died in 1715) who had many official royal mistresses and had his bastards with them legitimized, or The Duchess (set in late 18th century) and the Libertine, 2nd Earl of Rochester, who has his affairs in late 17th century. Rogers makes such a choice in 3x10.

The Tempest: Eleanor's thoughts of doubt, weighing her actions and her decision incorporate allusion from Miranda's speech to Fernando and Prospero about him.)