Howel Davis (Post 15)

I leaned out into the wind, watching as we approached New Providence. I longed to pull off my brimmed hat, set my hair free in the gusts of salty air. I couldn’t do it, for I would look far too much like a woman. Too bad — I would have liked to remind Howel of what I was.

As we entered Nassau Harbor, I saw the changes Woodes Rogers had made on the pirate haven: Much of the foliage had been cleared from the town, and the beaches had been rid of the pirate camps; the fort was being repaired, the Union Jack flying overhead; and four Royal Navy vessels, their guns clearly visible, guarded the emerald waters of New Providence.

Walking into the town itself was a strange experience — the carefree, idle ambience of the place had been replaced with a buzzing tension, as if the wildness had been barely restrained and was on the verge of bursting free. To my relief, Nan’s bawdy house was still there, and still very much a seedy place. I told Howel to meet me there after he’d finished looking for work, and he agreed.

I was greeted as boisterously by Nan and her girls as Howel had been by the women of the Black Dog Inn — minus the sexual tension, of course. They squealed and threw their arms around me, talking all at once, asking questions in rapid succession. They hurried me to a chair and brought me some rum, sitting around me, their eyes bright with excitement, waiting to hear my story. So I told them everything, forgetting that they may not have known I was from the future, not caring if I sounded crazy. These women, prostitutes though they were, were far more willing to accept me and my fantastical origins than any of the men of 1718 had been. Perhaps it was their lack of education, their inclination to believe in magic; or maybe it was that they were, on some level, freer spirits than everyone else. They clasped their hands and gasped as I told them how I shot myself, about the Cadogan and Howel Davis, about the slaves and the mutiny, about the threats from Jack Blaine.

Nel piped up. “Sabrina, what will you do, then?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. I would like to visit Ruth… Is she still here?”

Nan nodded. “Aye, she’s here. The same.” Then something maternal crossed her face — strange, since Nan couldn’t have been more than ten years older than me — and she asked, “So what of this Howel Davis? You speak of him as though he were something special.”

The girls looked at Nan, then at me, and I couldn’t help it: Blood rushed to my face. There was no hiding this reaction from prostitutes, for goodness sake. They began whistling and hooting and clapping their hands. “She’s sweet on ‘im, she is!” they cried gleefully.

I covered my face. “Please, he can’t know… I would die…”

“Ye’ve no need to worry, lass,” Nan reassured me. She shot her girls a look. “We’ll keep our mouths shut.” Then she looked anxiously at me. “And what will you do about ‘im, this noble sailor? Here in Nassau… The pirates still be fighting. He’d be hard pressed not to join ‘em.”

I nodded slowly. “I know.”

She shook her head. “You play a dangerous game, my puss. Letting your heart belong to a sailor so… completely.”

Truer words had never been spoken. Except, maybe, letting your heart belong to a pirate.

When Howel arrived, looking about him curiously, I noticed the change in his face immediately — there was a heightened color to his cheeks, a luster to his eyes. I grinned widely at him. “You found something.”

He grinned back. “Aye. ‘Pon my soul, me past is spotless compared to these poor bastards! Real rovers, some ‘o them. Like your Cap’n England.”

I skipped over to him, delighted. I wanted to hug him, but thought better of it and, at the last moment, held my hand up in a “high five.” Howel raised his eyebrows at me in puzzlement, and I quickly lowered my hand and cleared my throat. “Howel Davis, these are my friends…” I turned to Nan and the girls, who were watching the proceedings with avid interest, like a group of housewives watching a soap opera.

“Ladies, at your service,” Howel said with utter panache, sweeping off his hat and bowing deeply.

The girls giggled and batted their eyelashes at him, clearly surprised by his good looks and chivalrous greeting. Yes, Howel Davis was, without a doubt, a ladies’ man. I felt the green-eyed monster within me stir.  I changed the subject quickly. “So tell me the details about this job.”

“‘Tis aboard the sloop-’o-war, the Buck,” he replied. “Woodes Rogers intends to send her and another sloop, the Mumvil Trader, to exchange goods with the French and Spaniards in Martinico and Cuba. The lading’s valuable, I hear. Rogers hired mostly pardoned pirates. I’ll be just a regular hand, but ‘tis better than nothing.”

“They’ll be needing boys, too, won’t they?” I asked excitedly. “I could go over this afternoon –”

“Sabrina,” Howel said, his smile fading. “‘Tis not a good idea, this. You should stay here, with your friends, and see if you can get back to your family.”

Oh, no. It was my experience with Edward England all over again. I said, “But you agreed… back in Barbados… You said I could come with you.”

Howel scratched his head. “Sabrina, it makes little sense. To risk your life, your future… I’ve no choice. But you? You still have a chance.” He smiled. “Your fate ain’t set in stone.”

“We don’t know that yours is either,” I said through gritted teeth.

Howel placed his hat back on his head, his expression grim. “The sloops leave in two days. I’ve met a fellow from Wapping, one Walter Kennedy, and a few other sailors who’ve offered me boarding with them at an inn. I’ll be staying with them.”

Oh my God. Was he saying good-bye? I studied his face intently as Nan and the girls moved away, pretending not listen, but fully aware of the situation. He avoided my gaze intentionally, pressing his lips together. I said, “You need me.” He looked at me suddenly, surprised. I flushed, felt the need to rephrase. “I mean, I can be an asset to you. I know so much about the future in general. Maybe not specifics, but I can help you…” I trailed off. Jesus, I was turning into one of those chicks I scorned, following a man around like a loyal puppy, hoping he’d realize he was in love with me. Pathetic. He’s just not that into you, dumbass.

I could clearly see regret in his eyes. He looked around to make sure that the girls had made themselves scarce, then said in a low voice, “Sabrina…” I loved hearing him say my name in that Welsh accent, rolling the “r” and lengthening the “i” so that it was a beautiful, sing-song Sabrrreeenah. He swallowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat. It was the first time I’d ever seen him like this, whatever “this” was. Nervous? Sad? He continued, “It’s no good. I promised England I’d make sure you’re safe before I set sail again. I’d not be keeping my promise by taking you aboard a sloop packed with former rovers, that’s for sure. I’d worry about you every second, and I’ve meself to worry about. You’re safe here, you have friends here.” He smiled dimly. “Even if you never go back to your husband and child, I’m certain England will send for you, if not come back for you himself.”

I blinked. I said automatically, “England? Why do you keep bringing England into this?”

“Why indeed?” Howel replied, rolling his eyes to look at the ceiling.

“Howel,” I said urgently. “Howel, don’t give in to the temptation to turn pirate. Please. And whatever you do, never, ever set foot on Prince Island. It’ll mean certain death for you…”

Howel smiled slightly, his eyes crinkled at their corners. “No worries, lass. I’ve no intention to go a-roving. And I certainly ain’t going to the place ‘o me death.” He paused, and for a moment we simply looked at each other. Then he said, “I must go now.” He quickly took my hand and brought my fingers to his lips, looking at me as he did so. He may as well have set me on fire. He said, “I fare you well, my pretty little lad.” He hesitated for a moment — just a moment — then he turned, adjusted his hat so it sat lower over his face, and walked out the door.

I stared after him until Nan gently patted my back and said, “”Tis for the best, lass…”

I spun around to look at her, perplexed. “What are you talking about? I need someone to take me to the Mumvil Trader. Now.” I laughed harshly. “He doesn’t have to know, but there’s no way in hell he’s leaving me behind.”

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