Dunham

Part I: Chapter 1

PART I

January, 1780

Oranjestad, Sint Eustatius

Caribbean

"Ye're goin' ashore, Jack?" Lieutenant Smith asked, shocked when Celia swung from the deck of her ship and dropped into the dinghy already being rowed toward the docks.

"Shush. Solomon can't know. He believes I am abed as he bade me." She cast a glance between her first mate and her bo'sun. They were the only two occupants of the boat. "I'll assume you two wanted away from a nosy crew."

Bataar glared at her, and if Celia's head were not throbbing like the very devil, she would have laughed. "If Solomon bade you rest," she sneered, "then why are you here disturbing our liaison?"

"Aye," Smitty agreed. Celia now could see he was equally annoyed with her. "I'd think a body'd rest after sailing through that last stretch of storms."

It had been an incredibly long and difficult voyage from Portugal, after an incredibly long and difficult voyage from Virginia to London and on to Portugal-but for different reasons. Truthfully, she would like nothing better than to sleep, having already postponed her meeting with her partner until the morrow, but-

"Not this body," she returned wearily.

"Then why ... ?"

She gestured vaguely out to sea. "Dunham sailed into the bay two hours ago. I must make haste to go to Mohammed before Mohammed comes to me."

Bataar sighed in sudden understanding. "Your mother. Does she know he has graced us with his presence?"

Celia grimaced. "Not yet. She'd have my head if I allowed him on board, yet I can hardly deny him. I sent a message for him to meet me at the Bloody Hound."

"It's been near five years. He must miss ye much."

She slid Smitty a look. "He is not so sentimental as to cross the Atlantic for a visit with me, and he cannot possibly know Mama is aboard, so I'll admit to some curiosity as to his reasons for being here."

"More than one?"

"He does not do anything without he has six reasons at once, and certainly would not do such a thing as leave the Mediterranean without those reasons being very large ones."

"An' what'll ye do when he requests a tour of the Thunderstorm? He hasna seen it."

"I have not thought that far ahead, and I have a singular inability to lie to him. I shall have to arrange for Mama to go ashore somehow." Celia's head began to throb in earnest, and she rubbed at her temples. Certainly, she was happy to see the man, but why here? Why now? "Oh, God," she groaned, closing her eyes and lying back in the dinghy. "Does it never end?"

"Perhaps," Bataar said haughtily, "you should allow Fate to do what she will. It is not your concern."

Celia could only groan again. "Do not make me think, Bataar. Your family concerns are a matter for all scholars of history to sort out, whilst I am alone between two-nay, three-warring factions."

"They are adults. Stand aside and allow them to war."

It was not long until the dinghy scraped the shoals. Smitty hopped overboard, up to his knees in the water to haul it close and tie it off. Celia climbed out even as he held his hand out to Bataar.

"I'm off," Celia muttered. "My thanks for the conveyance."

"We're bound for the Bloody Hound as well," Smitty admitted reluctantly as he laced his fingers in Bataar's. "There is a quiet inn behind the courtyard, but we've yet to eat."