Charles Vane is brought to the gallows. Captain Hornigold returns to Nassau bringing news of Flint having allied with maroons. Eleanor not only learns that Mr. Scott has been alive all this time, but that he abandoned her and chose to be her enemy. Preparations are made to muster a large force to battle Flint.
(Warning: major character death)
Chapter 31 - Death
Eleanor felt rather unreal ever since the verdict. She knew it had happened, and yet a part of her believed that when she woke in the morning, she would learn that Flint had rescued Charles. Some men simply seemed too big in life to die like this, let alone for her to have set it in motion and finish it. Charles was not just Charles, the murdered of her father and former lover. He was Captain Charles Vane, one of the most notorious pirates of the Caribbean, a peerless fighter who stood for complete freedom. He was not in it for revenge, nor to get rich. He was the pirate of pirates, a lion who kept no den, a living legend. And when he was dead, it would be the true beginning of the end of the pirate era in Nassau. There was simply no other pirate like him. It seemed far more real that all these past months were just one long dream, and she would wake in her cell in Newgate and be taken to Wapping herself.
She was momentarily disorientated when she woke with the sun in her eyes, before she remembered she had slept in her own room. Not particularly because she had wanted to, but upon her return from the trial, Dr. Marcus said, "He is still delirious and very much disorientated when he wakes." Dr. Marcus smiled apologetically at her. "For the moment, I think it is best that his caretakers are servants he knows from London or Bristol. He tends to believe he is in England whenever he wakes." He patted her hand. "And you need your rest too, Miss Guthrie."
Eleanor threw her windows to the garden open and smelled the sweet fragrances of mango. It made her smile. Then she ordered hot water to be brought up so she could bathe. She opened her robe that she had Mrs. Hudson make for her, lifted her chemise and stepped into the tub filled with hot water. As she laid her head back when she eased in the water, she felt somewhat guilty. Here she was, soaking, preparing herself to supervise a hanging, while the gallows was being assembled. Even in the room farthest away from the square, she could hear the carpenters hammering. Meanwhile pastor Lambrick must have been with Charles to hear his confession around that time. Not that she believed that Charles would ever confess his crimes, let alone repent.
When she came down in her red dress to break her fast, the court official approached her. "It was a good speech you wrote, Miss Guthrie. I made a few changes here and there though. I hope you don't mind."
"No, as long as you do not use law and order as a phrase." She met Chamberlain, Mr. Soames, judge Adams and members of the council on the steps outside of the mansion, who inquired after the governor's condition. She said, "The governor is still in need of bed rest," Eleanor said. "But Dr. Marcus will inform us when that situation changes. Gentlemen," she inclined her head at them as they stepped aside.
The carpenters finished the construction of the gallows, as Max crossed the square and approached her. Eleanor met Max's searching gaze and for a moment felt uncomfortable. Max had a wry expression around her mouth, and her eyes were dark like a mother intending to scold her child. Eleanor shifted unsure with her shoulders as she made room for Max to stand next to her, trying to find an appropriate stance. It was far easier to behave and talk formally to Englishmen than to Max, at least now that they had grown to a new understanding between each other.
Max heaved her breath and said, "When the governor arrived and the island embraced him, a bargain was struck. Authority was ceded, in exchange for which the law returned. Law, which constrained that authority, made outcomes more predictable. But this outcome would seem most unpredictable."
Max's own formal address to her, made it far easier for Eleanor to adapt it. "The law was adhered to," Eleanor said calmly, her eyes on the carpenters.
"If the bargain changes, there is no telling what else will change as a result." Max's words made Eleanor look at her sideways. "What trust may be lost and what chaos may abound." Max licked her lips and leaned closer. "I am your friend," she said softly. "And I will help you weather whatever challenges may lie down whatever road you may choose, but as your friend, I am simply asking you to consider how treacherous this road may be, while there is still time to avoid it."
Eleanor frowned. Yes, Max, you are my friend, but not this regime's. Chaos is inevitable. Chaos was what Charles, Flint and Rackham intended to deliver to Nassau. The surest way to harm them in their abilities was to kill Charles, the only man who had the guts to steal into Nassau by stealth. "No one is taking this decision lightly, I assure you," she said mechanically. "This is no attempt to circumvent the law. Indeed, the governor felt that it was necessary in order to protect it." She sighed. "It was a hard choice. But an earnest one."
Max blinked several times and swallowed. Eleanor is going through with it. Nothing can deter her. She feared for Eleanor, how she inevitably made herself a target of the pirates' hatred and Nassau would never be the same after this. Eleanor had never seen a man hang, but Max had. Port Royal had been a pirate haven once. With the increasing presence of British navy, Jamaica began to apply a strict anti-piracy policy, and the English reveled in making a spectacle of hanging a pirate. The low drop was entirely different than her father who had hanged thieves from a high gallows. From a high gallows the snap of the noose would break a man's neck rather than suffocate him. But not so with the pirate's noose. Le dance macabre. It could take minutes before a man died from suffocation, trashing their legs in the air. Max had seen men, strong as an ox and brave as lions, sob and pee their pants at such hangings. She looked down at her feet. And yet we all wished it upon Eleanor, she thought guiltily.
It seemed like time crawled ever so slowly forward at a snail's pace, and yet even that was too fast. A part of Eleanor was never there, while another was ever present. Some of it she would later only remember hazily, but what she remembered was sharper than any other memory. The bells chimed the summoning to the market square of the commencement of the execution, as the cart wheeled onto the square with Charles in chains. People shouted names and threw dirt and lettuce at the oncoming cart. And yet she was deaf to it. She met his eyes, as the cart turned the corner and passed by the mansion's steps. Only you and I, now, his eyes seemed to say and her mind whispered to him. The cart halted underneath the gallows and, shackled, Charles was helped to his feet.
"When our lord governor arrived here, he promised you things," shouted the court official, standing on the steps behind the gallows, trying to be heard over the noise of the crowd crying for Charles' blood. "Order! Prosperity!"
"Do it!" yelled a woman like a fishwife as others booed Charles Vane. Eleanor only saw his profile, hunched shoulders and sharp nose. His preening eyes roamed across the heads of those who shouted for his death.
"Men who are not men at all," said the officials. "But beasts governed by the base instinct, incapable of anything but the most primal behaviors. A constant threat to every decent, God-fearing citizen among us. As long as those men roam free, strife will endure, fear will abound, and progress will elude us." Charles glanced at her across the distance, accusing. He knew which words of the speech were hers.
"Today marks the silencing of the most disruptive of those voices and a step towards the return of civilization in Nassau. But we must always remember - however strong the need for the removal of these traitors, these relics of a more savage age - there is no relish in this moment, but there is righteousness and comfort in the knowledge that justice is at hand. And that God's will will be done again in Nassau!"
The crowd hailed even louder than before. "Bastard! Hang him!" hollered a man.
"Does the condemned have anything to say before the sentence is carried out?" asked the court official.
Charles met her eyes again. As much as she had avoided looking at him during the court, Eleanor had only eyes for him now. It would be the last minutes she would see him alive. She had empowered the English regime to do it here, today, and had to see it through until the very end. She feared she would never believe the outcome otherwise. Charles looked away from her and at the hateful crowd. "These men who brought me here today do not fear me." He spoke calmly, and hardly raised his voice.
"We've had enough!" yelled a man pointing at Charles over the crowd's hullabaloo.
"They brought me here today because they fear you. Because they know that my voice, a voice that refuses to be enslaved, once lived in you. And may yet still." The booing and shouting stopped. The crowd had grown silent and listened. Only now did Charles raise his raspy voice. "They brought me here today to show you death and use it to frighten you into ignoring that voice. But know this. We are many! They are few. To fear death is a choice." He glanced at her again for a short moment. "And they can't hang us all." There was only silence. The sole sound on the square was that of the ocean wind and the waves breaking on the beach a distance away. Charles looked behind him and sniped, "Get on with it, motherfucker."
The noose was put around his neck, and they turned him to face her. Across the sea of heads, they only saw each other. Goodbye, Charles, she thought.
It was good once, his eyes seemed to say back, and then, see you in hell, Eleanor.
"Proceed!" shouted the executioner, and another man pulled the horses that drew the cart into movement.
One, two, three steps was all he had before the cart disappeared from under his boots. She counted them. He dropped. A gasp traveled through the crowd like a rolling wave. The cord swung forward, backward, forward again. Eleanor heard its rasping swing echo in her dreams afterwards. And then the macabre dance of the hanged man in his death throes began. His chains rankled as his head jerked. The mob had grown into silent mourners. People looked away or nudged each other to leave the square. But Eleanor watched it all. She wanted to see this lion die.
Max looked up at Eleanor before her. She could read nothing from Eleanor's face, only that her focus was solely on Vane's death struggle. What is going through her mind? Satisfaction? Nausea? Hatred? Or love after all?
Men stepped toward Charles from the crowd and pulled at his legs to help him die faster. Eleanor had warned the regulars that if this was to happen that they should not intervene. And they did not. The faster it was done, the better. Some of the men in the crowd standing between her and Charles turned and stared at her, glowering. Yes, she thought, I executed him.
It was done and the crowd dispersed. Even the council members on the steps began to leave. Eleanor was the last one standing, in honor of her father, the piracy age she once had known, the fate that would have been hers if not for Woodes, and also admittedly Charles himself. No matter how much she hated him, he was a formidable enemy, and finally dead. She had perhaps expected to feel something at such a moment. Victorious perhaps? Or maybe even some grief? But she only felt relief. She looked at the near empty square and heaved a deep breath.
Hornigold stood on the square with his crew, squinting at her. He approached with his new quartermaster in tow. "A hanging was not what I expected to come back to any time soon. Let alone Vane's. I hope you know what you are about."
Eleanor opened her mouth, but then decided not to bother. Maybe it provided more information about them what they thought of her than herself. "It's good to see you," she said. Eleanor glanced one last time at Charles, before turning away and gestured Hornigold and his man to follow her inside. "Please, tell me that you managed to retrieve the cache from Flint."
Hornigold sighed regretfully. "Not yet, no. Flint managed to stay ahead of me the whole time, but without outdistancing me. I thought I had him in my clutches, trapped at an island, two days sailing from here. But it's a Maroon island. Flint has a small army of escaped slaves to defend the place. I was outnumbered. But the governor's fleet and soldiers could certainly take it."
She opened the door towards the salon and ordered Dyson to have some refreshments sent. Hornigold's quartermaster closed the doors behind them as Ben indicated. Looking out onto the garden, Eleanor pondered the news of Flint having allied himself with Maroons. "Flint took the cache to a battle ground of his choice, knowing we need the cache to appease Spain. He would not have done so, unless he believed there was a chance he could win it." She turned, holding her arms crossed in front of her, and met the men's eyes seated in the longue chaise. "And yet we have to meet this challenge."
Benjamin took off his hat, flung it on the coffee table and sighed. "Flint has the cache then . I feared so, when I saw launches making for the Walrus through my spyglass four days ago."
"Yes, and Rackham." Realizing that Benjamin had no knowledge of all that had occurred on the island, since he sailed to intercept the Walrus, Eleanor filled him in about the state of affairs, without lingering on Captain Vane. She sat down into single seat opposite of them. "Does Flint have a fleet? Or is it only the Walrus?"
"No fleet. Just a hundred escaped slaves and Flint's crew."
"Are you absolutely sure that Teach is not lying somewhere in wait at another bay?"
Hornigold chuckled. "Teach? He's not coming off his beach at Ocracoke. Flint and Teach working together is as likely as euhm…"
"Flint and Charles teaming up?" she offered darkly.
The man huffed at that. "No, Teach was nowhere in sight in or around that island." Dyson interrupted them with a tray of glasses and wine and lime water. As Hornigold's quartermaster reached for a glass, Ben sent his man to meet with the crew and his militia. The man sighed and looked wistfully at the refreshment, but left. Hornigold sipped his glass of wine."I had two days to think about this Maroon island, and I wondered what you believed to have happened to Mr. Scott?"
"Mr. Scott?" Eleanor gaped confused at Hornigold. "He is dead, drowned in that ship-killer storm with …" She lowered her voice and frowned. "Flint." But Flint was not dead. And the Walrus was apparently sea-worthy enough to outdo Benjamin. "Well, I assume he's with Flint. Wasn't he his quartermaster?" Until now, she had never realized that Mr. Scott and her might actually be at opposing sides.
Benjamin shook his head. "No, Silver is Flint's quartermaster since Charles Town. Mr. Scott oversaw the repairs done by the slaves at Fort Nassau - the ones who escaped and killed two redcoats." He put his glass back on the coffee table with a ching. "I saw him in the tavern after he signed for a pardon on the first day."
"Mr. Scott is here?" Eleanor asked incredulously. Why did he not even come to see me?
"It appears to me that he is not. He volunteered to find the escaped slaves that day. But I never saw him again." Benjamin waved his hand. "I forgot about it. I don't know why, but I did." He leaned forward. "Now I cannot keep from wondering which island those slaves escaped to though. And how strange it is that I never saw or heard from Mr. Scott since then."
"You think he helped them escape?"
"Well, someone conveniently forgot to close their pen during the chaos that day."
"He wanted me to free Captain Bryson's slaves too," said Eleanor. "The consortium agreed to release the men. I bought the women's freedom and took them into my service. You know Eme, right?"
Hornigold nodded. "Yes." He met her eyes. "Here's the real mystery. Why would a maroon army big enough to outnumber Flint and his crew trust a pirate and help him lure English to their island? I imagine they would prefer it if nobody knew they were even there."
"You're saying that Mr. Scott made such an alliance possible?" she said shocked. Hornigold lifted his eyebrows suggestively in answer. "Did he know I was in the governor's service?"
"Not at the time, perhaps. But he would know by now." That hurt. Mr. Scott had been her father for many years, the sole man she trusted throughout the years, even after he left her. And Eleanor had blamed herself for his leaving. Benjamin Hornigold reached for his tricorne and got up. "I can see that this news distresses you. I will not take up your time anymore. We both have arrangements to make." Eleanor tried to get up, but Hornigold gestured there was no need for that. "I will return in an hour or two for navigational information you may need."
Feeling numb, Eleanor sat in the salon alone for a while. Mr. Scott's unexpected betrayal cut deeper than any other she had ever experienced in her life before. If he was alive, she had expected him to be proud of her. All those years he reminded her how selfish the pirates were, brutal and violent men. He never hid his dislike for Charles nor his distrust of Flint. He only joined Flint's crew in favor of an arrangement with England. That Flint turned bitter over Miranda she could understand, but not Mr. Scott. She did not care about him helping escaped slaves. Hell, had he remained in Nassau, she would have done what she could to help him with his maroons. But the idea that he would ally with Flint and Charles to provoke the Spanish in raiding Nassau, while he lost his own daughter and wife during the Rosario Raid, was devastating. It was as if she was orphaned all over again.
Mrs. Hudson looked up from her book, when Eleanor entered when she sought to visit Woodes, hoping against hope for sign of improvement. "The hanging went rather well," the spying chambermaid said with a small smile. "There was no rioting. No trouble."
Eleanor shook her head. "They cheered at the verdict last night. They booed him at the start this morning. Strange really. It's almost as if people didn't really care who he was. As long as someone was going to die. Like theater or a play."
"And it did not unnerve you when they grew silent?"
"No. An execution is no reason for celebration." She stretched her petticoat. "Perhaps it makes some of them reconsider in wanting to follow his fate."
Mrs. Hudson got up and moved to her side. "You do not fear it might have stirred resentment and rebellion? As he said, you cannot hang all of Nassau."
"True," said Eleanor. "But there is only one Charles Vane. They may believe they are like him for a day, but tomorrow they will wake with a hangover and think differently."
Mrs. Hudson indicated her head in the direction of Woodes. "The governor came to, a while ago, and asked for water. But he's still delirious. He murmured nonsense - something about a butterfly." She stepped towards the doors. "I assume you wish some privacy, nevertheless."
"Yes, thank you," she said without paying any more attention to the woman. Eleanor only had eyes for the man sleeping so quietly and looking so pale. The skin under his eyes was dark and his cheek was more defined and shadowy. Eleanor took his hand first and caressed it. "Did I go too far? Or not far enough by not hunting for the rebels? Or will it just be right?" She closed her eyes and sagged her head. While she had sounded confident to Mrs. Hudson, Eleanor was unsure whether the hanging of Charles would have no negative influence in the street. All she was sure of was that Charles posed no further danger at least. "I wish you would wake," she whispered. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. Me having to make the decisions on my own. We were supposed to do this together. Partners, remember?"
Woodes was the sole person left in the world she had as an ally. And she could not even be sure of that, once he learned of her hanging Charles Vane. And if she made a mistake, if she failed him in retrieving the cache, if the fleet lost against Flint, then surely Woodes would abandon her. She already knew she was only a band-aid to forget his wife Sarah. Please love me enough to forgive me, to understand, she begged. But how could she expect Woodes to love her enough, when Mr. Scott who had loved her like a father the past twelve years wished to see her killed in a Spanish raid. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Gently, she laid her head on his heart, just for a moment, swallowing away the bitter taste of Mr. Scott's rejection. Woodes' heart beat strongly, but fast and variably.
When she sat up again and her palm caressed his chest, Woodes whimpered and turned his head in his sleep, exposing the old scar to her sight. She trailed it gently with her knuckles. Though his eyes remained closed, he flinched at her touch. "Your scar was the first thing I loved about you." She pulled her hand away, rose and left his room.
It was time to inform the commodore and the council. As this was military business away from Nassau, she had Perkins assemble the naval and military council members in the western office, which she meant to use as a strategy room. As soon as she informed them of the maroon island, Mr. Soames argued for raising the defenses against a Spanish raid. Eleanor only had to remind the others that the governor wanted them to do everything in their power to retrieve the cache first.
The commodore agreed. "A bunch of runaway slaves and one pirate crew. We outnumber them easily and have far more military discipline. It would take us less effort to deal with them than mount a defense against the Spanish."
"Very true," Eleanor said. "Though I caution you to take Captain Flint serious as a tactician when you go out to meet him. He was a naval officer once, a former protégé of Admiral Hennessey."
Eyebrows raised, Chamberlain pursed his lips. "So, the man will give us some good sport then."
Just then, Hornigold arrived with his log and maps, detailing the coordinates of the island, the numbers he saw, the appearance and lay-out of the beach, the possible approaches within the bay. As the men discussed tactics and forces, just like her, Benjamin was wise enough to merely listen and not interfere. "How soon do you think you could be ready to sail out?" Eleanor finally asked by late afternoon.
"Three more days," said Chamberlain.
"Good." She glanced at Hornigold meaningfully. "Now, please excuse me gentlemen as I have other business to tend to. Captain Hornigold, we can let these tacticians pour over their plans."
Taking her meaning, Benjamin gave her his opinion once they were out of English earshot. "Flint would have counted on the redcoats taking the beach. He knows the strategies, the drills. He can mount a defense to give himself time, but even Flint must know they will conquer the beach. It was wide and deep, all sand – perfect for the English to overtake."
Eleanor and Hornigold agreed that Flint would have some back-up plan. "You must sail with them, Captain," she said. "The commodore counts on his own tactics, but does not know this enemy. Flint is prepared for the soldiers we have. So, we must send more."
Hornigold pumped his chest. "My men were already told to stand at the readiness." But then he frowned and shrugged his shoulders. With a regretting smile, he said, "Flint would include my crew in his numbers as well, however. And then there are the Maroons."
Tapping her finger on her lips, Eleanor paced the hallway. Mr. Scott wanted to bring the Spanish down on Nassau. Eleanor could not forgive him for this. If war was what Mr. Scott wanted, she would give it to him. "You met Mr. Underhill," she said alluding to the location where Hornigold capture her. "He has men trained in arms to protect his plantation against any pirate getting lofty ideas to raid. They know how to hunt runaway slaves. They might be of help."
"It might help to give Mr. Underhill an enticement to raise as large a number as he can."
"What do you have in mind?" Eleanor asked.
"What does the governor mean to do with the surviving maroons? There must be women and children on that island," said Hornigold with a glint in his eyes. "They could be spoils of war."
Eleanor was almost angry enough with Mr. Scott to agree to letting the maroon survivors be enslaved. But she thought of Eme, Max, and the other men and women she had hired and worked with, and she remembered Mr. Scott's daughter, Madi, who was once her playmate. They were people to her. How much choice could the women and children have had when men believe they have to start a war? "I cannot answer for the governor in that regard. But you may tell Mr. Underhill and his men that it is in their interest to bring as many women and children to Nassau alive." And then she would attempt to persuade Woodes into allowing them citizenship.
It was late afternoon the following day, when Chamberlain walked into the strategy room in the company of Lieutenant Perkins, while Eleanor discussed plans with Mr. Underhill and Captain Throckmorton around the meeting table with maps sprawled out on top of it. "I've just come back from the beach," he said. "And I couldn't help but notice the three additional ships anchored in the bay being outfitted for this battle right along with mine."
Eleanor straightened herself, leaning one hand on the table, and turned towards Benjamin standing beside her. "Captain Hornigold will be sailing in consort with you, accompanied by his private militia." She then indicated her head at Mr. Underhill at the other side, who pumped his chest when introduced. "Mr. Underhill has formed a special company of men from the ranks of his plantation staff, men with experience hunting and capturing slaves."
"I will not go into battle alongside undisciplined conscripts," Chamberlain said hoarsely. Mr. Underhill inspected the commodore with disdain. "The force I bring to bear is sufficient to combat whatever awaits us."
"Jesus, he wants the force you bring to bear. He wants it." Eleanor shook her head. "I know this enemy, Commodore. I know his mind. He took that cache with the express purpose of compelling us to commit your force to a battlefield of his choosing. Your force is factored into his thinking. He has planned for it. And I assure you, if you allow him to dictate the terms of battle, you court a disastrous outcome. If he expects your force, then we must send that which he does not expect. For we will have victory against this enemy. There simply is no alternative."
Chamberlain's eyes roamed the men in the room and rested upon Mr. Soames. "Do you agree with this?"
"I can only see benefit in it, Commodore. You would have enough ships to seal off the bay completely."
"Flint has only one ship and the soldiers will take that beach in no time," Chamberlain argued.
"But what about the inland, Commodore," Eleanor said. "Flint knows you can take that beach. He wants to draw you inland, onto his terrain." Eleanor heaved a deep breath. "It is meant as tactical support."
Chamberlain looked at Hornigold and Mr. Underhill. "You will not interfere with tactical military maneuvers, and will only join us when we have secured the beach. Is that understood?"
Two days later, by noon, Eleanor stood alone on the pier as she watched the HMS Milford, HMS Rose, HMS Shark, the Buck, the Royal Lion and two more ships sail off under a sky of heavy white clouds. All that remained in the bay were the Delicia and the Gloucestershire. Eleanor dared not part with Woodes' preferred guardship. And if I did wrong and sent that fleet to their doom, he cannot say I deprived him of the Gloucestershire to send me to Wapping.
(Eleanor and the hanging: While some viewers prefer it if Eleanor dwelled on Charles' death, there is no indication in the show that she does, if at all. She had already moved on. Harsh, but there it is. I do hint at her hearing the cord swinging in her dreams. To reflect that moving on, I move onto Hornigold's reveal about Mr. Scott.
Maroons and slavery: Mr. Scott's betrayal causes deeper wounds than Charles' reveal about Richard Guthrie. She longed for Richard's acceptance, but Mr. Scott was her father in an emotional sense. In a true historical version both Eleanor and Rogers would consent to enslavement of the maroons. Woodes Rogers' merchant fleet carried slaves for trade, like the majority of Bristol merchants and naval nation of that era. The show skirted this issue with Eleanor and Rogers, while even Vane aquiesces to the use of slaves to rebuild the fort, reluctantly. Mr. Scott and the slaves escaped Nassau before Eleanor and Rogers even set foot on the island. Hornigold does not mention meeting Mr. Scott to Eleanor on-screen. It's a loose end. Their escape and the dead redcoats aren't even addressed from the regime's POV. Most of the slave/maroon issues is only shown from pirate or maroon POV.
I think the show wanted to balance the portrayal of the pirates, maroons, governor and Eleanor. Imo the series wants all of their major characters to be "grey" rather than black and white. And I think they will continue to do so in S4, but towards a "darker grey". So, I dare not stray from the hazy portrayal of Eleanor or Rogers for the moment, even when she includes Mr. Underhill in the fight against the maroons. I understand that since this fanfic is mostly Eleanor's POV it reads sympathic of her, while putting the pirates in a bad spotlight. To then also have Eleanor think of offering the surviving women and children of the maroons citizenship may come off as making her close to a saint, except for having Vane hanged. It's just that I think the fate of the maroons will be an important plot point in the final season.)