Winds of Fate [Books I-III]

Chapter Ninety-Two: A Little Help From My Friends... (Part One)

March 2nd 1720, Present Day
Nassau, New Providence Island
The Bahamas

"Whoa, easy!" The coachman wrests the reins, making the brown stallion protest wildly. The carriage stops in front of the stone stairs leading to the pink manor where the Royal Governor of the Bahama Islands resides.  A finger pulls back the cream curtains of the coach window, adorned by a gleaming golden ring. 

Bright, clear blue skies drape over this side of the Caribbean, but Admiral Smith's lips curl to a frown. Paying house calls to Royal Governors sadly remain a task even for a man with rank such as he. Letters should suffice, he grumbles, fixing his gold-trimmed tricornered hat. He leans forward again, so that the white feather plumes do not get squashed under the low roof. He checks that his cape is secured, and no speck or powder soot dots his uniform. 

Admiral Smith pinches the bridge of his nose, taking another glance at the manor. The first time he had come to Nassau, the Governor's Mansion is a clapboard contraption that is one hurricane away from collapsing to a heap of wood. He smirks. Noblemen and their need for castles. The door opens and a soldier greets him. Admiral Smith shrugs and whispers to himself, "At least this one befits the Empire more."

But there is no use for grand manors if the common people live in squalor. The dazzles and embellishments pass by him in a blur as he quietly follows the soldier to where the Lord Governor awaits. Admiral Smith swallows to wet his parched throat. He had always thought Baron Neville is far too young for such a task. But it appears age couldn't be a reasonable factor to judge someone these days. Within three years of appointment, the Baron has effectively crushed the Pirate Republic and its remains, gave out pardons and meted out death for those who refused.

With such great feats however, also await great losses.

Whether Baron Neville's gamble on Havana would pay off or not, hinges on his recent failures - trusting the former pirate Rykes, who has suspiciously gone missing since informing the Admiral of the woman who stole his ship; and underestimating the Devil himself, who escaped Nassau by some stroke of magic.

As Admiral Smith ponders all of this while waiting for the Governor by the table under the trellis, he cannot help but identify a triangular connection between the female pirate captain, Del Santo, and Baron Neville himself. The two are up against one. And Neville is either arrogant or a fool to dare continue his venture. Especially when devilry is on the side of the pirates. A wise man would strengthen the fleet instead of making concessions with an enemy kingdom. The Admiral sighs and leans back on his seat.

What can you expect? He grimly sneers, cupping his knees. The Baron is an aristocrat, not a sailor; not a soldier.

But Del Santo is both. That makes him dangerous to deal with. He knows the ways of princes and sailors alike. He scowls. And the devilry too! 

Then this woman. Admiral Smith stops. I pity your parents, girl. This is the nightmare of any father --- his daughter out loose into the world, entrapped by an evil man, deceived by the lure of freedom, of adventure---

"Admiral Smith."

The Admiral stands up. Lord Neville emerges from the garden path. They firmly shake hands. The Baron offers him the sit again, and he obliges. Soon, tea is laid out before them with cakes and preserved fruits to lather on the treats. However, the matter at hand doesn't permit him any appetite at all. Still, to avoid being accused of disrespect, Admiral Smith takes a cake and sets it on his plate. His stomach clenches in a vice-like grip as he dutifully reports the success of their voyage from Kingston to Nassau. Lord Neville listens with eagerness, congratulating him on his prowess and his men.