A/N: Finally managed to upload chapter 3 :) My internet has been a pain today and no matter how many times I tried to upload the file, it didn't want it - Oh well, I managed to get it up somehow... I found this chapter a little hard to write, considering this was the moment Tessa learns that she's no longer in her own world... it's only a small moment (for that, I am sorry) but as the story progresses, I feel that Tessa will come to face that fact more and more, particularly as she begins to learn how to interact with this world... anyways... enjoy this chapter - I hope I made it worth the wait :)
Chapter 3:
Havana was, in a sense, one of the most classically attractive places I had ever been. The busy town with its white-stone buildings and red-slate roofs of which appeared to the common eye, decrepit and weather-beaten, bleached by the sun and blasted by the wind, seemed oddly humble to me. And with its' low port surrounded by green forest and tall palm trees, leaves a lush green which wafted gently in the breeze, it seemed to create an aura of excitement and a sense of peace, safety, as they waved ships in as they sailed into port.
"It's beautiful," I breathe, watching as the shore came closer and closer, my eyes picking out the vibrant colours of the city with excitement and curiosity. Never had I seen such a simplistic yet striking place and despite the nervous knot wound in my stomach, I was euphoric to see land and visit the phenomenal trading-hub.
"I've been here before, you know," Bonnet informs me, nudging my shoulder in order to pull my attention away from the brilliance of the port, "only once, mind you," he continues, a mischievous grin twisting his moustached lips.
"And?" I ask, leaning closer, my eyes bright with interest, "how was it?
"It was a truly awful pleasure."
Laughing at the awful joke, I shift my attention away from Bonnet to Edward, observing him as he frowns in concentration, focused on steering the small vessel into the clear, blue-green waters of the bay. His face betrays nothing besides that focus yet I find myself wondering if he's visited the old-style city before; he certainly knew how to navigate the waters of the Atlantic in what I thought was record time with this timber-and-sail ship.
"I was worried there, but only for a moment," Bonnet confesses with a whisper, regaining my attention once more, "that Duncan may lead us astray. However, it seems that I was incorrect."
"He did get us here in one piece," I agree, glancing over my shoulder at the man in question, returning the quick grin I catch Edward giving me.
"So, I can finally be rid of you," Edward calls teasingly, shifting the helm with careful precision as the boat edges closer to the shore and into the shallow waters of the bay.
Rolling my eyes at the banter, I turn back to Bonnet and watch as he waves at the small crowd gathered at the docks, crying 'hello' happily into the crowd. And although I don't see anyone respond, except for the occasional nod and smile from passers-by, I can't help but ask; "see someone you know?"
"No, no, no. Just putting on a friendly face," Bonnet assures me, halting his greetings, "I shouldn't want to be mistaken for a pirate again. Might not have Duncan here to rescue me the next time."
Yeah, I think, hoping that my smile does not seem too much like a grimace when recalling the bloodied corpses littering the Cape Bonavista beach, 'rescue.'
"An Honourable Rogue like yourself must be cautious," Edward agrees with a sarcastic air, rolling his azure-green eyes, "the ships docked and ready to go, Bonnet."
At Edward's declaration, Bonnet claps his hands happily, nodding at his crewmen who immediately begin to unload Bonnet's precious cargo. He follows the men off the ship, leaving Edward and I aboard his schooner. Guy must trust us a lot to leave us on his only means of transport, I chuckle thoughtfully, the very idea ridiculous in everyway, considering that Edward had lied through his teeth the entire trip about his identity and even I hadn't told Bonnet the truth.
Then again, I didn't even know what the truth was – for all I knew, this was just some elaborate dream and forget Bonnet, I hadn't even told Edward that I was... what could I even say? 'Hey Edward, I may or may not be experiencing at this moment, an extreme hallucinogenic dream from the wicked head bashing I received whilst doing a super secret mission – a real one, not something fake like the 'mission' you gave Bonnet – so yeah, wanna grab a coffee later?'
Yeah, that would go swimmingly.
Sighing, I jump as Edward saunters up behind me and taps my shoulder to capture my wandering attention. He nods over at Bonnet and then gestures to the lively city of Havana, "took a little classic manipulation and my proficient sailing skills to get here, but…" he pulls me closer to his warm body, his lips grazing the shell of my ear as whispers, "welcome to Havana, Tess."
I shiver and deftly navigate my body away from his, my cheeks reddening.
"It's Tessa," I reply, looking anywhere but at Edwards' face, "who gave you permission to call me Tess, Duncan."
"Don't be like that… but, if you really must know, I gave myself permission," came his smooth reply. Chuckling at my use of his false identity, he reaches for my face and grasps my chin, pulling my gaze towards his own, thumb brushing over my blushing cheeks.
My own blue eyes widen as his study my flustered expression, my heart thumping widely in my chest as his calloused thumb strokes my soft cheek, tracing my cheekbones and then my lips. To my surprise, I find myself briefly marvelling at how gentle his thumb is as it grazes my skin and I find that I enjoy the feeling of being touched with such care. I know that he's a flirt – and his smile becomes cocky and devious, I know that he's teasing me – nonetheless, I can't help the feeling of pleasure that warms my body as someone treats me with such tenderness. "Don't you like being called Tess, Tessa?" he breathes, leaning forward until his lips hover merely two… maybe three inches away from my own.
Frustrated with my weak-will and the horrible burn of my cheeks, I pull away from Edward and rush off the boats deck, bowing my head to hide the distinct colouring of my cheeks, knowing that Edward remains on the deck with a no doubt satisfied expression – like a fat cat who just received full-cream milk. As I step onto the firm, wooden dock, I find myself nearly colliding with Bonnet's plump form as my body shakes despite my feet being planted firmly on the ground.
"Whoa there," he laughs, steading my swaying physique, "excited to get out into the city are we? You may want to take some time getting back your bearings, being on a ship for even a day can make you wobbly on sturdy, dry land if you're not used to it."
"You're not shaky," I answerback, frowning at Bonnet and then Edward as he makes his way onto the pier, "how do you do it?"
"Years of practice," Bonnet replies with a grin and Edward answers with a soft chuckle, handing the shorter man two small crates of Bonnet's cargo. Pausing to count his sugar, Bonnet says casually to Edward, "amazing to think that England and Spain were at war two years ago. Now here I am, bartering with Spaniards like they were my cousins."
Edward looks out into the bustling city and slowly; a frown begins to mar his handsome face. Briefly, I wonder if it was Bonnet's words that angered him, but that would be a bit farfetched. If I was honest, the only thing that I could tell was wrong with what Bonnet said, was that England and Spain had been at war, but that was hardly something that one would frown over.
"You okay?" I question, touching his forearm.
And like I knew he would, my concern goes to waste the moment Edward answers me. "It's nothing," he assures, shaking off my hand despite the fact that the frown does not disappear from his expression. "Where's the best Squat in town?" he suddenly questions Bonnet, strolling down the edge of the dock, his eyes remaining locked on the city scene, "I'm dying for a quick kip… or siesta, I should say."
"Ah, well," Bonnet begins, lifting two crates of sugar with a heavy grunt, "I'm just, uh, heading off to a Public Tavern to meet some merchants. If you'd like, I could show you the way?"
"Public house?" I ask, following at their heels, "what's that?"
"You stay by the ship," Edward instructs, putting a hand on my shoulder to stop me my pursuit, "better yet, do what you set out to do in the first place. You said you needed to send a message once we got to Havana and, well, we're in Havana so you're half way there. Just ask the Shipyard Master to direct you to a pigeon hutch and then once you've sent you're letter off, return to the ship."
"But why can't I go to the Public House with you?" I mutter, my cheeks once again flushing with irritation. The prospect of being left behind in a town I didn't know frightened me and as much as Edward's teasing, flirting and general lack of manners was exasperating, I felt content with the rough man. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had saved my life and kept his promise, but I felt he was my best option if I wanted to see things through – not to mention, survive – and to me that meant that I didn't want to be separated from either of the men.
"A Public House is no place for a lady, Miss North," Bonnet chimes in to my disappointment and Edward shoots me a triumphant look at the received support.
"But-" I begin to protest.
"Just find a stupid pigeon and stay by the boat, love," Edward says, rolling his eyes and nudging Bonnet forward. He raises his hand in farewell and pursues a conversation with Bonnet, effectively concluding our argument, if you could call it that.
Huffing, I fold my arms over my chest and watch their forms disappear amongst the multicultural crowd. With the finality, I let out a sigh of disappointment and reluctantly turn to one of Bonnet's crewman to ask for directions to the Dockyard Master, setting off immediately to begin putting the pieces of my life back together, one step at a time.
0-0-0-0-0-0
July 1715.
The date swirled around my head tauntingly; causing my head to pound with each lap the thought circulates. I struggle to contain the groan bubbling out from between my lips as I process the idea and no matter how many times I toss the date over in my head, I find myself arriving at the same conclusion.
It wasn't possible. I just couldn't have gone back in time. Yet, here I was, surrounded by prostitutes, privateers, soldiers, merchants and even pirates from a bygone era – the Golden Age of Piracy.
Impossible. Yet not.
I was no longer in a place that I could call home and as far as I knew, there was no way for me to go home. I couldn't even fully comprehend as to how I managed to arrive in 1715; so therefore, how the hell would I know how to get back? I was trapped in a metaphorical cage and for the time being, there was no way out.
So get your shit together and work out how the Hell you're going to survive here, I thought, scuffing my black boots as I kicked at the stone-ridden 'road.'
It all made sense now; the clothes Edward and Bonnet wore, the ship Edward had piloted, the war Bonnet had gone on about earlier, the suggestion to get to a carrier pigeon – Bonnet's freaking sugar trade. All aspects of an age that was supposed to be long gone and over, a time that I shouldn't exist within. Nevertheless here I was, alive and breathing, with the worst fucking headache on the planet and no medication of any sort that I knew would get rid of my ailment.
Fuck it. Just fuck it, I silently snarl, my boots clicking on the floorboards of the dock as I stalk towards Bonnet's schooner, what is the use of worrying about it? I will cross this bridge when I know what the Hell is going on.
And… what if you never get to cross that bridge? A snide voice replied.
Ignoring the little voice and reaching the ship, I settle upon an abandoned crate to wait for Edward and Bonnet to return, wondering if they got side-tracked by more than just alcohol whilst wandering the streets of the fair city. Really, I should hardly be surprised by the number of Public Houses – which I now I understood were bars – lining the streets, coupled with the herald of drunken sailors and dolled up prostitutes that existed within the city frequented by a variety of ravenous – in more ways than one - men.
How the Hell am I going to survive this? I think despairingly just as Bonnet hobbles down the dock, carrying a single box of sugar with Edward in tow.
"Sorry about the sugar mate, I've only got one pair of hands," I hear Edward say, clapping Bonnet on his sturdy shoulder in a form of apology.
"Oh, it's no great loss, I do have plenty of cargo to make a profit of my trip," Bonnet assures him with a quick shake of his head and a soft smile, "besides, the reales you've given me is more than enough to compensate."
"Compensate for what?" I find myself asking – damn my curiosity.
"For getting into a… uh, some-what drunken fist fight and thereby causing Bonnet here to lose most of his sugar," Edward quickly confessed and upon quick assessment, I can see the bruises and cuts decorating his face, predominantly below his eye which obviously came from a serious right hook.
"Idiot," I mutter, shaking my head in disbelief.
"Did you spend your time well, Miss North, whilst Duncan and I were uh-"
"Getting into brawls at a bar?" I suggest to Bonnet with a quick, small smile.
Blushing, Bonnet avoids meeting my twinkling eyes, settling his salvaged cargo into the arms of one of his crew. "Well… yes…" he admits, albeit reluctantly after some time.
"Unfortunately, the Ship Master was unable to assist me in my endeavours and I remain stuck here in Havana with you two idiots for company," I tease, although admitting my situation aloud makes me feel sick to my stomach.
"Only you could screw that up," Edward chuckles, ruffling my hair to my annoyance as he passes, "will you remain in Havana for long, Bonnet?"
"Yes, only for a few weeks though," Bonnet answers, "then its back to Barbados, to the tedium of domesticity."
The reluctance is clear in Bonnet's voice as he describes his future plans and despite my preoccupation with my own misery, I can't help but feel sorry for the genuine man who, despite our… strange meeting, accepted us with mostly open arms. It seemed unfair that Bonnet would suffer – then again, the people who deserve to be happy the most often get the shortest straw.
"Don't settle for tedium," Edward replies to my surprise and Bonnets, "sail for Nassau, live life as you see fit."
"Haven't I heard that Nassau is crawling with pirates? Seems a very tawdry place…"
"Not tawdry," Edward corrects, "liberated."
"Unfortunately," Bonnet sighs wistfully, climbing aboard his ship, "I am a husband and a father… life cannot be just full of pleasures and freedom when you have so many responsibilities, Duncan."
"Just do what feels right," I interject before Edward has his say, "don't live life with regrets because that will be the biggest regret of your life."
"And, to tell you the truth Bonnet, the name's Edward," Edward continues, ruffling his windswept locks with a hint of embarrassment and what appears to be guilt, "Duncan's only a handle."
"Ah…" Bonnet says as if everything has just clicked, "a secret name for your secret meeting with the Governor."
"Meeting with the governor?" I query, instantaneously interested the moment the words leave Bonnet's mouth.
"The Governor," Edward groans as if he just remembered something of great importance, which judging from the look on his face, he did, "I think I've kept him waiting long enough… Bonnet, if I could ask one more favour?"
"Of course, happy to oblige."
"Look after this one for me until I get back," Edward says.
"I don't need a babysitter," I protest, gasping at his blatant disrespect when I realise 'this one' is me, "I can look after myself."
"Please, you'd probably end up drowning in the harbour if I took my eyes off you for even a second."
"I managed to find the Shipyard Master without your help."
"And yet," Edward teases, already turning away and making his way down the length of the pier, "you still got nowhere. Bonnet?"
"Of course, it'd be no trouble," he calls out happily, waving his hand in farewell, "she's great company."
I look at Bonnet with a look of horror and disbelief, silently begging him to let me go off on my own. But with a sigh, I turn away when I know that my pouty, puppy-dog look is getting me nowhere with a honourable, loyal man such as himself.
Watching Edward's retreating figure, I stick out my tongue at his back and fold my arms across my chest, hugging my body tightly as the tremors begin, once again losing myself within my thoughts.
July 1715…
Oh fuck.