Howel Davis (Post 10)

We were almost there. It was my one consolation.

The blasted “Middle Passage” had taken forever, every hour dragging by as I consciously avoided Jack Blaine, surrounding myself with the crew at every opportunity to ensure that I was rarely alone.

Every time Sam was brought on deck to “exercise,” I would ask him about Davis, nearly frantic with worry. Sam would look at me, his scarred face fierce, his expression impenetrable.  At first, he would simply answer, “He is alive.”

As this was not enough to satisfy me as the days passed, Sam finally looked me in the eyes and said softly, “He has much ike, strength. He will not die. Not yet.”

I had to be satisfied with this answer, although it did little to ease my worry. I could do nothing, though, except wait with bated breath for Blaine to approach me, for the Cadogan to reach Barbados.

They happened quickly, nearly simultaneously. Just as the lookout excitedly shouted that Barbados was within sight, Taylor called me to his cabin. Inside, both Blaine and Taylor awaited me, their faces expectant.

“You say you have friends here?” Taylor inquired frigidly, his arms crossed on his chest. “How do you intend to meet with them?”

I shifted nervously. “England told me where to find them.”

Taylor seemed satisfied with this answer, ready to be done with me. “Godspeed, then.” As I turned to leave, he added, “Oh, and Blaine would have a word with you.”

Shit. I reluctantly turned to face Blaine, who was chewing on a toothpick and leaning against a table, his eyes fixed on me. He waited calmly for Taylor to leave before saying, “Charmed Woman Sabrina. What are ye, a witch?”

I stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you everything.”

Blaine stood, pulling the toothpick from his lips and squinting one eye at me. “Ye know fates of men, do ye? She said ye’d know me fate, the fate ‘o the world.”

“Who’s she?” I asked hoarsely, stepping back as Blaine approached. I looked at Blaine now, knowing what I’d recently learned about him, and noticed the lantern jaw, the flattened nose, the blond, sun-bleached hair, the weathered face. He couldn’t have been older than me, and his stocky form consisted of mostly muscle. He was a terrifying bear of a man, and he would no doubt be even more terrifying a pirate.

Blaine ignored my question. “What of me fate, then? If ye know so much, what of Kidd’s treasure? Of Spanish gold?”

Was he mocking me? “I — I don’t know,” I stammered.

Blaine grabbed my face with his dirty, callused hand and held it close to his. I could smell his breath, a nauseating blend of ale and tobacco and rotting teeth. I could see the fog in his left eye, the one he always squinted. He said, “I’ve a mind to force ye, lass, if ye know something ye ain’t telling.”

I tried to twist away. “I know nothing. Now let me go before I scream.”

He held my face for a moment longer, long enough for it to hurt, and then abruptly let go. He grinned. “I don’t know where ye plan on running to, but there ain’t many places for ye to hide, a lass with no kin to protect ye. Be assured that I’ll find ye when the time comes.”

“I told you, I don’t know anything,” I repeated. “And I’ll report you to the authorities –”

Blaine laughed harshly. “Aye, report me, will ye? I’ll still hunt ye down and get it outta ye.” He walked to the cabin door and opened it, then bowed deeply, irreverently. “Milady?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

I rushed out, my heart pounding in my chest, and resolved to find myself a pistol once we’d reached solid land. I would rather shoot myself again than land in the hands of either Jack Blaine the sailor or Jack Blaine the pirate.

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