The Rogue of Port Cuevas

By Barbara Butterfield

Privateer Brandon Myles regularly plies the waters of the Caribbean. Having set his roguish sights on Savannah, the governors daughter, its unfortunate that shes only interested in men who arent tied to the sea.

Meanwhile, Brandon determinedly works to keep Savannah chaste for their wedding day, taking it upon himself to fend off scalawags, officers and her fathers political associates who are vying for her hand.

One day a pirate ship is seen weighing anchor off the coast and Brandon is on the chase of his life to rescue Savannah before her treasure chest isnt the only thing thats plundered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503575837

Barbara Butterfield

Ms. Butterfield is California born and raised, and currently resides in a suburb of Phoenix, Arizona…where she lives with her favorite feline friend: Baybee. Integrity, suspense, camaraderie, romance, and personal growth are all values that play a vital role in her novels. More importantly, the gospel and spiritual growth are also an aspect of life into which she delves. Ms. Butterfield has written for many years; her first novel having been penned at the age of fourteen. She also studied writing and journalism, becoming the Editor-In-Chief of the school’s newspaper. She is currently working on her 60th novel.

Book preview

Prologue

T he man had been good at math. He was a solitary man who simply had a penchant for numbers, and treasure. He had been an accountant turned pirate and had sailed under the flag of Captain Thomas Chesterfield for many years.

It was his task to sort and record the booty that they plundered from hapless individuals whose ships they had boarded. He had kept the logs and the tallies, and had cheated. Desiring a larger portion of the take than was his due, he had altered the numbers and created his own private stash on a small island.

Escondido Island, also known as The Hidden Island, was a small mound of land in a chain of islands in the Caribbean, and which only appeared at low tide. During that time of the moon’s phase, when the turquoise blue water was drawn back, encouraged by the moon to visit other, more far away places, the island appeared…trees, vegetation and all. The sand of its beach even dried out and occasionally birds and turtles ventured about the island until the tide began to turn once again.

When the tides returned home, the island was once again covered in water, though not deeply. One could easily walk across it even at high tide, though their feet and ankles would get wet.

This small isle off the coast of Purgatory Island, was in the vicinity where pirates often tied up their ships in the nearby, and very well hidden coves. Eager to walk upon terra firma once again, they were quick to go ashore to visit the many taverns that had sprung up there. This island held amongst its secrets, of all things…two caves.

Both were relatively shallow as caves go, but both flooded during high tide much to the consternation of the few animals, or people who ventured inside their depths while exploring. Happening to spend too much time therein, some got caught in an unexpectedly watery grave. Some were fortunate enough to escape to daylight, but most never saw the light of day again. More often than not, it was just a matter of really bad timing.

But businessmen, seeing that there was money to be made in the sale of liquor and women, had flocked to Purgatory Island, once it had been learned that Perdition Cove was where the pirates liked to tie up to rest.

The British Navy didn’t bother the pirates very much, though it was a haven of sorts for them and it would’ve been an easy catch, like shooting fish in a barrel. But their reasoning was that this was one place where they could post some sentries…or spies, and keep watch over the comings and goings of the various pirates who plied their trade amongst the Caribbean islands and even along the coast of the America’s.

So it was that British Naval Captain Andrew Primrose, much to his dismay, was assigned to pirate observations in this cove. Because of this assignment, he became acquainted with a few of the pirate captains, which eventually led to a mutually beneficial financial arrangement with one Thomas Chesterfield who captained the pirate ship, the Rapscallion.

Not that Captain Primrose was a turncoat, but he was an opportunist at every turn. In getting on a friendly footing with some of the more amenable pirate captains, he was able to significantly enhance his monthly naval wages.

His business relationships with the pirates also greatly lessened the need to get his hands dirty while on the job. Though on occasion, Captain Primrose felt it was his duty to actually apprehend, convene a trial and summarily convict a pirate or two in order to maintain the facade. Occasionally, Captain Primrose would have his men string up a couple of the convicted and hence…deceased bodies of a few unfortunate pirates. Hung suspended from a crossbeam near the mouth of the harbor…this morbid scene was to serve as a warning to pirates who chose to put in, and drop anchor there for a while.

The warning was just for show, but it was expected that Captain Primrose apply himself fully to his duties while assigned to Purgatory. It should not come as a surprise to anyone that…over the years…more than one joke had been made about the island…and the dire foreboding of its name.

Be that as it may, this is how the accountant’s decomposed body came to be swinging in the brisk, onshore breeze. Suspended from that same crossbeam, the dead man’s weather-ravaged body was to serve as a red flag of caution to all who entered therein. Even though the warning was inherently impotent.

He had been caught cheating on the recording of the booty, and though confessing to his crime, he discovered that they intended to hang him anyway, so he refused to tell them the location of the treasure that he had absconded with and hidden.

Captains’ Primrose and Chesterfield had backed off, promising to let the man live if he would only tell them the location of the hidden treasure. But the accountant didn’t believe either of them. Now, this was probably the smartest decision he had ever made, because both captains were in accord that the accountant was to be hung whether or not he disclosed the information they sought.

So the man was hung, taking with him to the grave, the location of the buried treasure.

Aye, but I’ll have to get me a new mate to do the accounting now, complained Captain Chesterfield as he and Primrose casually strolled from the site of the execution. In the background, the man hung, and though dead, his feet still kicked about as if struggling against a fate that had already been sealed.

Perhaps this time, Thomas, chuckled Andrew, his hands clasped easily behind his back, "you can get yourself an honest accountant."

Aye, I shall endeavor to interview the candidates with greater clarity, replied Chesterfield, one of the more well-schooled pirate captains, having graduated from an American college with a degree in business administration several years earlier.

And what of the booty that’s been hidden?

"We could look for it, but it might be all for naught. There’s plenty of booty to be had by just running up the coast and taking a few of the merchant vessels," responded the pirate.

True, shrugged the naval captain. Tis also an easier task, I would imagine.

It depends, but overall it’s a better use of time management.

No down time, Captain Primrose simply concurred.

Precisely, agreed Chesterfield. Hunting for that man’s ill-gotten gain may take years to track down, wherein merchants sail daily. It’s just a matter of the taking, the pirate reasoned.

Well then, get on with it, mused Captain Primrose with a knowing wink. But bring me something of value this next time.

What?! Asked Chesterfield, feigning surprise. The jewels weren’t enough?

"I was thinking more along the lines of a winsome lass, a lonely winsome lass."

Can you not get what you need at any of the taverns that line these streets?! Asked Chesterfield, honestly aghast at Andrew’s request.

Aye, but tis not the same, Thomas. I desire a lady of culture, with a name and a position in life.

Then why don’t ye sail back to yer precious England and find yourself what ye seek? Challenged Chesterfield sliding back into more of his pirate’s role and dialect.

Who wants to make such a long journey without a woman on board to take my ease upon?

Aye, tis a long trip indeed to be without some feminine comfort. Ever try rum? He asked, with a wink.

All the time, laughed Andrew. Though tis not the same as having a winsome lass squirming beneath a man’s stern.

Aye, tis been a while for me as well. I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps we’ll have the good fortune to run across one of those slave traders from the Orient. If so, I’ll bring you a little something back.

You’re a good man, Thomas, Andrew chortled, clapping the pirate good-naturedly upon the back. But truth be told, I’ve been keeping a weather eye toward the governor’s daughter.

Which governor?

Governor Christian.

I know of him, squinted Chesterfield thoughtfully.

Aye, he’s a short, rotund sort…

Governor of Port Cuevas, right? Asked Thomas, pointing at Andrew, having just determined within his own mind just who it was that they were talking about.

Aye.

He has a daughter?

Aye indeed, mused Andrew as his mind recalled idyllic pictures of Savannah dressed in her finery at the many captains’ dinners that he had attended. A stunning beauty that would make a lovely addition to my bed.

Perhaps ye could share in your bounty? Offered Thomas askance.

Nay, not this one. Sorry, old fellow. Should I have the opportunity to take the lass to my bed, she is mine alone. Get your own wench, Thomas.

Aye, he chuckled, that I shall. However Andrew, continued the pirate, should I be beneficial in helping to bring her into your spiders web, what’s in it for me?

Ye have such a pirates heart, me lad, quipped Andrew.

Aye, now don’t I, Chesterfield agreed, adding a leering grin for good measure. Like I said, what’s in it for me?

If ye can assist in securing the lass for me, I shall reward ye appropriately.

Please be so kind as to enumerate for me?

Oh damnation, Thomas! Shouted Andrew, growing impatient with the pirate. I’ll reward ye! Is it not good enough that ye will be aptly rewarded?!

Nay. Coming from the likes of ye that could mean almost anything, and I do not think I want to take that risk.

Ye do not trust easily, do ye? Captain Primrose asked, and Thomas just chortled, eagerly throwing his head back in laughter.

Nay, not with ye. So, Andrew what will it be? A shilling? Another ship? More protection? A shiny bauble? A turn on the lass meself? What? Chesterfield persisted.

Suffice it to say that I will surely make it worth your while, promised Andrew.

Nay, replied Thomas shaking his head and effectively brushing off the possibility of Andrew’s plan.

You really do not trust me! Andrew gasped, feigning disillusionment in his partner in crime.

Simply put? Nay, replied the pirate succinctly.

But we have shared equitably in business dealings for so long, whined Andrew.

Trust no one, Andrew, Thomas bluntly replied. My goal in life is to become an aged pirate, one does not attain such a goal if one trusts.

Fine, Andrew finally acquiesced with a weary sigh. If you are beneficial in helping to bring the lass to me, I’ll give you another ship.

I can get a ship anywhere, all I have to do is take the one that catches my fancy. I wish a turn on the lass myself, he stated, leveling a stern glare on his business associate.

Never! Retorted Andrew hotly, and then thinking, he quickly added. One hundred percent of the dead accountants booty.

That would be fine, if we knew where it was, replied Thomas, warily eyeing the British captain.

We will find it!

And this puts us right back where we started with this conversation, Andrew. No. Tis not good enough. Get the wench yourself, he stated adamantly, and then began to walk away.

If you play any part in this venture, still…I shall reward your efforts. In some way, trust me, Andrew spoke up, but without following the pirate captain, he stood firm in his position.

I can’t, replied Thomas without bothering to turn around.

All right…all right then! Andrew finally blurted out. I’ll give you a turn on the lass as well! And Thomas stopped, turning about to look the naval captain squarely in the eye.

Before…or after yer own tryst?

After!

Before.

Nay!

Forget it. Besides, I don’t even know what the wench looks like, and again the pirate turned and began to walk away.

The lass will be well worth any physical effort you expend upon her tender, young body, tempted Andrew’s silken tone of voice, and again Thomas turned around to peer closely at the officers beady little eyes as he tried to gauge the man’s seriousness, if not his honesty at the moment.

Young, is she?

Ten and seven.

Too thin and bony, I’ll wager.

Round and soft…just right I’d say.

Round…where?

In all the right places, Thomas…and I’m certain that you are indeed familiar with the intriguingly feminine places to which I am referring? Captain Primrose mused.

Aye, replied Thomas thoughtfully. All right Andrew, I shall see what I can do to bring the lass into your sordid little net. Whether first or last, I shall have her, and she had better be everything ye say, or yer own body will swing from the crossbeam, I swear it.

I do not tremble at your words, Thomas. Trust me, replied Andrew without worry one at the pirates threatening words.

I trust no one.

Aye, no one.

Chapter 1

T he captain wants ye back on board sir, came the quiet tones of Gerald Hanes, one of the seamen who served aboard the merchant vessel, the Dominator.

But First Mate Brandon Myles didn’t hear him. Having spent the evening at the Pirates Scabbard Tavern, Brandon was three sheets to the wind, having drunk his way through two bottles of rum.

It was not the stalwart, hard-working First Mates way to indulge in lustful activities and over imbibing in drink, but the Dominator had been at sea for several months and had just returned to her berth in Port Cuevas riding low in the water, so laden with cargo was she. The Dominator and her crew had been at sea for seven long, grueling…though profitable months, and the crew was tired, including the first mate.

Captain William MacLachlan had told Brandon to go ashore, virtually ordering him to take his leave of the ship in order to rest and partake of the enjoyments to be found in their homeport.

Brandon lived aboard ship, as did most of the other members of the crew, choosing to not have a permanent residence on firm land. Being a single man, with nothing to tie him to a land-based home, Brandon simply opted to live aboard ship, making a relatively spacious cabin his home.

Getting drunk had not been his primary goal this night. He had intended on spending a few quiet hours with one of the tavern wenches even though he was every bit enamored of the governor’s charming daughter, Savannah Christian.

But Savannah was a lady and not the sort of wench with which to take a quick roll in the hay, as it were. Nay, Savannah required a ring and a civil ceremony and a solemn oath of fidelity, and Brandon wasn’t prepared for those things just yet. He, of a certain, knew that the lady wasn’t ready, since he barely knew her…yet.

But every time he was in port, he sought her out, and proposed marriage to her. And every time he was in port and proposed marriage to her, she turned him down.

Brandon knew her father, the governor, on a very proper professional and business level, but he didn’t know Savannah very well, though he was diligently working at it.

So it was on this foggy and rather chilly night that Brandon’s thoughts were again filled with visions of the lovely Savannah, and it was those thoughts that had brought him to Virginia Red’s tavern. The Dusty Rose was the premier saloon on the island and truly was the only place where a sea-going man could seek the kind of solace that only an able-bodied, full-bosomed lass can give a man in dire need.

Alas, the buxom redhead who plied her own trade within the establishment had been his goal. He had been watching her over the months since she had arrived in Port Cuevas from the Virginia’s. Brandon felt certain that she had been giving him the eye for quite some time now, and after so many lonely months aboard ship he surely had a need for female companionship. Not only was he feeling lonely, but there were other, more manly needs that he was experiencing keenly as well.

It was obvious that she wanted to ease his pockets of a few gold coins, and clearly she was worth every bit of gold she could free from him, but Red had been otherwise occupied when he had entered the tavern.

So to while away some time…he drank, imbibing the pleasant tasting vintages as well as sharing a seafarer’s tale or two, or a bawdy joke of feminine pleasantries, amongst the other sailors with whom he had ended up spending his time.

So I said to her…and mind you…a more winsome lass ye will never find… Brandon recounted as he regaled the assembled group of sailors with yet another story. Just take it off and be done with it! He heartily exclaimed, nearly shouting the punch line of the ribald story. All of the various sailors and businessmen in the group howled with laughter, some of which even fell down upon the plank flooring of the tavern, so complete was their appreciation of the salty tale.

Now face down in his cups, and his sea-faring mates having wandered off to parts unknown, Brandon’s head rested upon the rough-hewn, wooden tabletop. He was far too tired to even lift his head to the seaman that had been sent to fetch him back to the ship, and far too full of rum to even care.

Sir, tried Seaman Hanes once again, this time gently kicking the officer in the foot, more and more stridently in order to get his attention. Please wake up Mister Myles, it wouldn’t look proper for me to be carryin’ one of the finest officers of the Dominator through the streets, and back to ‘is own ship.

Hmm? Came Brandon’s voice through closed lips, and equally closed eyes.

Just then Virginia Red strolled up to the table, the very same wench with whom Brandon had intended to seek his manly comfort with that night.

What’s up with gorgeous there? She asked bluntly. It was quite late at night, and the brilliantly white full moon had risen to nearly its apex in the diamond-studded sky, and Red was tired. Though she was pleasantly weighted down by any measure of gold coins held within a secret pocket of her own design, her ruby red lips smiled at the young seaman as she took amusement at Brandon’s plight.

Her kohl rimmed, hazel-colored eyes sparkled with the merriment she felt, a product of her richly Irish heritage. Though Red had to admit she was saddened somewhat to discover that the officer had drunk himself into a stupor whilst waiting for her.

Ma’am, I’m sorry to say that me First Mate is drunk, Gerald replied kindly. I’m afraid I’ll ’ave to carry ’im back to the Dominator, I am.

Red leaned down to get a closer look at Brandon, a view of which seaman Gerald thoroughly enjoyed partaking. I’m afraid he’s done for, for tonight that is, judged Red upon completing her perusal of the First Mate. Too bad really, I’ve known him before and me bed will be lonelier tonight without the likes o’ him in it to give a good nights pleasurin’ to.

Uh, replied Gerald, nervously clearing his throat. I…I wouldn’t know much about that sort of thing, ma’am, he replied politely, and Red peered at him, turning a well-practiced come hither look on the unsuspecting sailor.

Ye are kind of cute yourself, me lad.

What?! He gasped, shocked by her forward behavior.

Are ye deaf, boy? Chuckled Red. I said ye…be…cute yourself, she added succinctly.

Nay ma’am, not me. I’m just a seaman from the Dominator, and I work hard for me wages.

I’m sure ye do, lad. But, ye can be cute and still be an honest worker too, she chuckled at the boys’ innocence.

Aye ma’am, I suppose so, he agreed kindly.

Tell me lad, how many years do ye be?

I’m a man, he replied briskly as he raised himself to full height. Gerald had grown quite weary of having his youthful countenance thrown into his face at every turn, even though Red just curiously wanted to know.

Aye, Red mused thoughtfully, studying the young sailor much as a shopper would peruse a cantaloupe to gauge its ripeness. Tell me lad, do ye have some spare time on yer hands?

Some, though not much. I ’ave to get me mate ’ere back to the ship.

"But ye do have a few minutes, do ye not?"

Yes ma’am, replied the boy curiously, and Red gently took him by the hand, leading him upstairs, and he placidly followed along, much like a sheep to the slaughter, as it were.

Ma’am, where do ye be takin’ me? I ’ave work to do, he protested.

The work will keep, and if ye aren’t already a man, ye will be by the time ol Red is through with ye, she promised sweetly as she gently led him into her chambers.

* * *

An hour later, Red kissed him tenderly on the cheek and gently pushed him back out into the hallway.

Come back and see me again, whenever ye are in port, my door is open to ye. For…free, lad, she whispered seductively as a single, red-painted fingernail traced a brazen path from his cheek to the comely cleft in his chin

Thank ye, ma’am, Gerald murmured in awe of what had just happened to him…for the first time.

"Nay lad, thank ye," Red winked, truly impressed with the lad’s quick learning ability.

Teetering down the stairs, Gerald soon reappeared at the table where Brandon still slept soundly. Sir, are ye not awake yet? Queried the seaman, growing tired of waiting…as well as having been wearied from his other recent activities.

Hmm? Asked Brandon as his eyes opened to mere slits and he lifted an aching head and blurry eyes to see the young mate standing there staring at him. What…what is it that ye have need of lad.

Nothing…now, he mused, then quickly restated his comment. Ye…sir! Captain MacLachlan requires your presence back aboard ship, sir.

Well, why didn’t ye say something?

I did sir, about an hour ago, sir.

Oh, replied Brandon as he struggled to get to his feet. Gerald supported the officers weight as best he could as he helped the First Mate from the tavern. Struggling to maintain their meager gait, the staggering duo managed to remain upright all the way back to where the Dominator was berthed.

Back on board ship, Captain MacLachlan spied the young seaman struggling to get the very limp and nearly unconscious First Mate up the gangplank without having the officer tumble over the railing and into the dark, murky water.

Casually, the captain wandered over to where Gerald was finally able to drag Brandon on board where he wearily let his cumbersome load sink down onto the well-maintained teak deck.

Good job, Mister Hanes, complimented the captain, his hands casually clasped behind his back as he strode over to where his First Mate lay sprawled upon the deck.

Thank you sir, twas not an easy one to be sure, replied Gerald as he wiped a hand across his perspiring brow, and he started to hoist the officer back up again.

No son, leave him, spoke the captain, extending a hand to the boys’ shoulder, effectively preventing him from trying to move the thoroughly inebriated First Mate. Ye go on below…to yer quarters, I’ll have some others move the good officer here, he mused.

Thank ye kindly, sir, replied the young man. "Mister Myles did prove to be a bit of a load for me."

Aye, he’s no small man to be sure, Captain MacLachlan commented as he perused the 6'1" height, one-hundred-eighty pound breadth of his ships officer. Brandon did present a formidable weight to be hoisted, especially for the lean, sixteen-year-old youth that had seen him safely back on board the Dominator.

Brandon’s dark brown hair, which somehow managed to remain pulled back into a short and usually neat ponytail at the nape of his neck, now threatened to spill loosely over his brow even as his dark brown eyes were closed with his inebriated slumber.

Aye sir, Gerald agreed. Mister Myles is not a small one, and saluting his captain the young man turned to go below.

Mister Hanes, began the captain slowly.

Yes sir? He asked, turning back around abruptly.

Ye have some lip rouge on your collar, twould be best to get that cleaned off right away.

I beg your apologies captain, I wasn’t aware…

Me best guess would be that’s the mark of Virginia Red, at least it seems that way from the shade of it, the captain hazarded a correct assumption as he tilted his head first to one side, and then to the other studying the deep red shade of lipstick.

Yes sir. Again my apologies, there was some time, and I couldn’t rouse Mister Myles…

No need to apologize, son. Yer time could have been spent with no one better for a fine young man such as yourself.

It happened quite suddenly. One moment she just appeared at the table and the next…

Ye were helpless in her chambers? The captain guessed with a knowing smile.

Not just ’er chambers, sir! But ’er bed! Replied Gerald, his eyes wide with renewed astonishment at what had recently transpired, and the captain chuckled, his hands still clasped casually behind his back.

No need to worry son, ye were in good hands.

That I was, sir, sighed Gerald.

Red’s a good woman, son. She’s not the sort to steer someone wrong, especially if she’s taken a fancy to them. Now, on the other hand, get on her bad side and ye will lose more gold quicker…and easier…than a cannon shot can cut through a mainsail!

Aye sir, thank ye. I’ll remember that.

"See that ye do. By the way, how much coin did she relieve yer pockets of tonight?"

None sir, replied Gerald innocently.

None, hmm, replied the captain thoughtfully. Dismissed.

Aye sir, and the young seaman turned to take his leave for the night, his captain now well aware that it had indeed been the young man’s first time with a wench. Since it was a well-known fact that Virginia Red never took the coin of a young man whose privilege it was of hers to be the one to so instruct the youngster on occasion of his first time to lie abed with a woman.

Looking aft, the captain called to some mates who labored nearby.

Gents, would ye be so kind as to assist my First Mate to his cabin? Seems he didn’t get any wenching in, but he did get plenty of well-known Mistress Rum, he requested, and all three men chortled at the drunken first mates decided lack of luck on this night.

When ye have him stowed safely in his bunk, start battening down the hatches, the captain ordered, clutching his coat more closely about his throat. The winds freshening, a bit of a blow may be on the wind, best to be ready, just in case.

Aye sir, we’ll see to it.

Thank ye, the captain nodded curtly as he strolled off along the slightly canted deck, idly pondering the ventures to come before he decided to take his ease in his cabin for the night.

Chapter 2

H is crew mates having deposited his rum-weary body upon his bunk, Brandon rolled over. Facing the bulkhead…and with eyes closed, it was the idle fancy of his mind to simply go to sleep.

G’night, sir, the men said, and Brandon simply grumbled a return cordiality. Chuckling slightly, the men cast furtive glances at one another and quickly took their leave of the First Mates cabin. He will have need of the doc come morning, one of the men whispered. Twill be one helluva a headache Mister Myles wakes up to, and all the robust seamen eagerly nodded their gleeful agreement as they closed the door and went their own ways.

In his bunk, Brandon tried to get some shut-eye and some might even say that he did slumber. But it was those pesky thoughts that he’d been having whilst awake at the tavern earlier in the evening that had a distinct penchant for following him into that twilight realm of deep sleep.

The gentle rocking of the ship lulled Brandon whilst in the arms of his bunk and soon he was thinking. Or perhaps it was dreaming, about the night a couple months ago when he had met the lovely Miss Savannah Christian for the very first time.

Ah, Mister Myles! Captain MacLachlan vociferously greeted his First Mate when Brandon appeared at the opened door of the cabin.

Sir, ye called for me? He asked, and standing at attention with his hands clasped behind his back, Brandon presented quite a professional and handsome sight.

Aye, me lad, come on in. Come on in, the captain hailed him, waving his right hand in a hurrying sort of gesture, welcoming his First Mate into his private abode.

Can I help ye with something, sir? Brandon asked as he strode across the floor to stand before the captain’s oak desk.

Aye, lad…ye can, Willie replied, and the fact that his captain had referred to him as lad was sure to mean trouble, at least it always had in the past. Trouble…in this case usually meant a special, personal favor, which he could always turn down, but it was really best if he didn’t.

Brandon, my boy, Willie began, and the First Mate’s ears perked up. He had gone from ‘lad’ to ‘boy’ in a matter of seconds. Nothing good ever came from a conversation with the captain that began in such a manner.

Yes sir, what need ye?

I have a favor to ask of ye, lad. Now hear me out, Willie added very quickly, almost as if he already suspected that Brandon would say no to his request, and he was probably correct in that assessment. Brandon, willing to give the captain…who was a very good man, a chance, held his tongue, allowing the man to explain himself.

Me lad, as ye know, I happen to be very good friends with the governor of this fair town, ye know who I mean?

Aye, sir…Frederick Christian, Brandon offered.

Aye son! Correct! Willie enthused, and by his jubilant and effusive temperament, one might have been led to believe that the good captain may have imbibed a few quick drinks before this awkward meeting. Now, he has a daughter. Aye, a fine young lass, she be.

Sir… Brandon tried to interrupt right then and there, but it just wasn’t meant to be.

Now son…please, hear me out, Willie repeated. Brandon, though heaving a sigh, obeyed his commander and stood ’at ease’ as he continued to listen. "Well, now the lass is named Savannah and she is quite the youngster, and is fair of face and flesh.

Sir…I…

And so…at his own flesh and bloods request, he is allowing her to attend the birthday party of her very best friend…

Sir…but…

Now, twould seem that the child needs an escort…

Sir!

Tis a small village on the far side of the island, and traveling by horse and buggy, it shouldn’t take over long to get there. I would ask that ye wait till the parties over and then escort the fair young lass back home again.

Sir…but…

She needs protection, Mister Myles, and when the governor came to me, oh and he looked so sad too, he did…and he asked if I knew of any young men that I could trust…

Sir…I…but…

And it didn’t take me but two shakes of a lambs tail but that yer name popped into me head. That’s just the kind of man ye are, Brandon…trustworthy, solid, dependable, honest, loyal, a man of integrity, girls be safe with the likes of ye…

Oh, sir…I…really…

And Frederick was sold right then and there on ye! I tried to explain that I would need to speak to ye first, but he would have nothing about it. It was ye, or nothing. Ye know a father cannot go back on a promise to his child….especially a handsome, young girl as fair as Miss Christian…

Sir, I really must…I…

I’m so glad to hear it, Brandon! Willie exclaimed, and rocking back in his chair, he enthusiastically clapped his hands together. Oh, Frederick will be so appreciative to know that his daughter is in such good hands…

I wouldn’t put it quite that way, sir…

Nay, the lass will be in good hands, and ye will escort her and protect her and bring her back home safe and sound with nary a problem one, and all will be well.

But, sir I really must…

I’m so glad ye agree with me and are eager to comply with yer captain, son. Really I am, Willie enthused, and Brandon just rolled his eyes. It was clear that saying anything other than ‘yes’ would not work.

Sir, ye want me to escort this child to a party, and then back home again?

Aye son, that’s the ticket!

Where shall I get a horse and buggy? I have naught a need for such things, I don’t own one.

But the governor does, and he’s already had it brought to the docks for ye. So ye just hop up, grab the reins, go to the governors mansion on the hill, pick up Miss Christian, take her to the party, wait around till she’s done, and then simply bring her back home. What could be simpler?

Well, sir…to be honest, I could think of several things actually, Brandon said, pretty sure that his boss wouldn’t hear anything he was saying. He didn’t.

True, true. Brandon, thank ye lad, I appreciate this and might I add that there will be a little something extra in yer pay for yer troubles.

Thank ye kindly, sir, Brandon replied, nodding respectfully. Sir, could not anyone in the governors employ have done this chore?

Nay. Frederick wanted a man.

He has no men on the payroll?

Mostly elder gents, son.

And they couldn’t escort the child?

Frederick didn’t seem to think so, no, Willie replied, and Brandon just rolled his eyes again.

Alright sir, Brandon spoke after first heaving a huge, semi-tolerant sigh. "When is this…party."

This night!

But…sir! Brandon shouted, trying to object to having been given such short notice.

The horse and buggy are hitched at the end of the pier. Ye know where the governors manse is, so I’d say ye had best be getting under way, me boy. Weigh anchor, trim the sails, full speed ahead! By the way son, ye haven’t been drinking yet today, have ye?

Nay sir, but as for later tonight, I make no promises, and with that he turned about and exited the cabin.

Chapter 3

A sleep in his bunk, but not having a very successful time of it, Brandon dreamt of the night he met the child…Miss Savannah Christian.

Driving the horse and buggy was fun, Brandon enjoyed that. It had been a long time since he’d shared any time with a four-legged friend. As they walked, or trotted along, he enjoyed a hearty conversation with the equine who, as it turned out, was a very good listener. So this part of the evening was a good thing and though the First Mate was more accustomed to traveling upon the sea than over land, he actually enjoyed his time at the reins.

Arriving at the governor’s residence it was clear that his approach had been expected…and observed, as an elderly coachman stood at the base of the steps waiting to hold the reins.

Good evening, mi’lord, Brandon greeted, and leaping down to the ground, he handed the reins to the coachman.

Aye, tis a fair evening. Ye must be Mister Myles, Captain MacLachlan’s man.

Aye sir, I am, Brandon replied, with a courteous nod of his head.

The lass is ready and will be out in a moment. Would ye care for a sip of refreshment while ye wait?

Nay, but thank ye kindly for the offer. I will just await the child, Brandon replied, enjoying the cordial, though short-lived conversation with the gent.

It was then that the front door opened, and the governor stepped from the entry way, followed by his daughter. Brandon smiled courteously at the approaching governor, but then