The Pirate Vortex: Elizabeth Latimer, Pirate Hunter (Book One)

CHAPTER NINETEEN: I Want You To Write A Letter

Liz tried to sleep. She hadn’t slept since that ill-fated night she spent in Rackham’s brig. How many days had passed? She didn’t know. She only knew that there was a time frame within which the vortex would stay open, then they’d be trapped until the cycle repeated itself and the time chute reappeared.

     She lay resting her head on Daniel’s bolster. The thing was hard as a rock, but it was all she had for a pillow. The bunk was hard, too. She looked out of the porthole. They were still on course, still headed for New Providence.

     Good.

     She got up and went to the captain’s cabin.

     The captain wasn’t in there, so he must be on deck. Liz went outside, glanced aft at the quarterdeck, and saw Rackham, in all his calico glory, standing at the helm with Daniel.

     Liz climbed the companionway and joined them.

     “I give you good morning,” Daniel said, flashing his two-fingered salute.

     Liz grunted. She stretched and yawned and combed out her slept-on hair with grimy fingers. If she didn’t get hold of a bottle of Clairol Herbal Essences shampoo pretty soon, she’d have to hack off this mouse’s nest.

     “More like good afternoon,” Rackham said.

     “Okay, so I slept in a bit,” Liz argued. “Is that a crime?”

     Rackham turned to his quartermaster. “This one speaks like a witch.”

     And how would you know what a witch speaks like?

     Liz decided to zip it. Insulting Rackham first thing in the morning—oh yeah, it was afternoon—was not so smart.

     “We’ll see land soon. It’s time to plot our move,” Liz said. “Come below with me.”

     Rackham’s eye gleamed with mischief. “Yer wants me below, does ye, lass?”

     Oh, for crying out loud. Liz clenched her teeth. Pirates. They either wanted to rob you, rape you or eat you.

     Liz planted her hands on her hips. “I want you to write a letter to Anne. I want it sealed and sent to her at the mansion as soon as we anchor.”

     “Aye, cap’n,” Rackham said sarcastically.

     Elizabeth exhaled. I will not let this moronic, dipstick of an ancestor of mine make me lose it. She smiled sweetly. “Let’s go.”

     They went below to Rackham’s quarters. The cabin was the same as she had seen it when Daniel was playing the part of Fearless Leader. The room was dim with the sun overhead and not yet reaching the stern windows.

     Rackham lit a lantern and set it down on the table. He stared at her. “What makes ye think ye can remove my Anne from the governor’s mansion so easy?”

     Liz shrugged. “She loves you, doesn’t she?”

     Rackham chuckled. “Aye, she did. Until I did a stupid thing.”

     Oh, crap, Liz thought. What did he do?

     She waited for the bomb to fall, but he merely smiled. “There is something you do not know,” Rackham said. “I been dallying with the likes o’ Molly O’Leery.” When Liz didn’t react, he explained. “Madam O’Leery owns the cathouse by the same name.”

     Cathouse? Liz thought. Oh, right. A whorehouse. Great. You philandering piece of monkey doo. Just when she thought it was smooth sailing . . . . Out of the frying pan and into the fire.