Pirates of the Caribbean: Barbossa and the King's Messenger (Book 1)

A Bitter Reunion

Chapter Twenty Three - A Bitter Reunion

His eyes were just as I remembered them, as black and hard as stones, and the pitiless grin on his face revealed a row of crooked, narrow teeth unpleasantly suggestive of a weasel.

Squatting down at my side, Curnow said, "Come t' see yer old man at last? Didn't expect me t' welcome ye back so prompt, did ye?" This display of wit garnered appreciative guffaws from his men.

"She missed me, didn't she? She might reward me right here!" he said, continuing with his taunts as the rest of the leering blackguards shouted and whistled. "Be nice, an' I'll go easy on yer back an' belly." He extended his hand, and I spat upon it. His men laughed at this, and their laughter grew louder as he struck me hard across my mouth with the same hand. "Now ye can spit blood," he said.

Curnow put a halter around my neck and tightened the noose. "Geddup," he ordered, taking a clasp-knife from his belt. "I only have to bring ye to Highcliffe - the Judge don't care what else I do, as long as yer breathin'. So if ye want ta keep yer ears, ye'll come along quiet-like, or get a bit of knife work done on ye."

As they led me along the road to Highcliffe, I gathered my wits enough to try whether I might gain some information about the fate of Barbossa and his crew.

Knowing how he enjoyed gloating, I gave Curnow a defeated look and asked him how they had known I was in Pencarren. He told me that Hanibal had got word of a ship laying by and had sent a boarding party to make prize of her. When they realised what sort of ship she was, they thought to bring the men to my uncle so that he could discover their purpose. All the men were disarmed and searched, and the captain was found to have a letter from me. I kept my eyes upon the ground as I heard these details.

By this time we were on the lane that passed Williams' mill, which was boarded up and being guarded by three ruffians. A fourth man was carrying some buckets to the door. Curnow called out to him at once. "Oi! Where ye goin' with that?"

"Bringin' somethin' t' put water in fer the pris'ners," the man replied.

"On whose orders?" Curnow demanded. The man shrugged.

"Thought so. Take it back." There was a boastful, bullying tone to Curnow's voice, full of the small authority Hanibal allowed him.

The man turned away from the mill and walked with Curnow's gang. Curnow grinned at me. "We locked 'em up in the mill. But never you mind, duchess," he added with a sneer. "They won't be there long. I expect tomorrow'll find us busy with the Judge's work."

We continued up the lane, as the skies grew more overcast. Brief gusts of wind ruffled across the tops of the hedges as we made our way up a gentle slope. My footsteps slowed, and I wondered why the familiar surroundings seemed different. Then it struck me: from where I stood, the chimneys and rooftop of Highcliffe's largest farm, Nancewreath, should have been visible. At the crest of the rise, I stopped. Curnow grinned and announced with relish, "Been a few changes, duchess."

Without replying, I made my way down the other side of the rise and approached Nancewreath's wicket gate. With a dreamer's sense of unreality, I gazed in horror at the scene before me. Where the pretty farm house once stood, there was only a roofless, deserted ruin. The whitewashed walls of the house were disfigured and blackened where huge flames must have scorched them, and the thatch roof and entire first storey had fallen in, leaving a few clumps of thatch resting upon the tops of the broken walls.

Charred roof timbers angled towards the sky under a wrack of grey clouds, and even the chimney had been toppled, its unhewn stones lying scattered upon the ground, where the heat of the fire had left black and brown swathes of dead grasses. The door and some of the windows still had the remains of wooden slats nailed across them; it seemed that Nancewreath must have been abandoned and boarded up before the fire.