Katie Rose's Journals - Prologe

Katherine Morris found herself walking from the parking lot across the small footbridge into what appeared to be a small port town. The day was beautiful, the sky a lovely clear blue, the air soft and warm with gentle breezes playing from the water. A good day to be outside. As she walked the dirt streets, she watched the actors dressed like characters in a play as they followed a general script for their parts. Each one, she knew, had studied for the past six months to learn the language, custom and behaviors that were a part and parcel of their character.
This was the first time she’d been to a fair set in a port town. In past years she had come with friends to wander the streets, sample the wonderful food and enjoy the atmosphere of an English Country Faire of the 1500's. This faire has been advertised as a trip back in time to the Golden Age of Piracy. The village was constructed to be a port town somewhere along the Spanish Main during the 1700's. Great care had been taken to create every detail as accurately as possible.
The costumes were magnificent, everything from the very plain to the very ornate, and each person seemed to be taking his or her role very seriously. Curiously, there were very few folks who, like her, were not in costume. While she enjoyed her history and being among those folks who took it seriously, she had never attempted to create a costume or to become a part of the process. Only once had she brought a camera, only to leave it in her bag as its very presence was out of place among the folks she met on the grounds. Today Katherine wandered empty handed, the necessities stashed in the pockets of her jeans. In difference to the heat, her long auburn hair had been tied back in a long tail at the top of her head.
Stopping at a bakery, she bought one of the large gooey cinnamon buns that were her favorites and spent a pleasant half hour sitting under a tree devouring it and watching several of the performers in their roles as pirates partying in the streets. The group was comprised of four men dressed in shabby clothing carrying swords and pistols cavorting with an equal number of tavern wenches who might or might not have been prostitutes. At one point the men gathered around a group of visitors and made an all in fun attempt at terrorizing them. It was clear that everyone, actors, visitors and on lookers, knew it was a game and all played along with grins on their faces.
Taking to the streets once again, she ambled up the gently sloping hill, along a path that wound its way between artists’ carts and caravans. The people were friendly, polite, nodding hello and wishing her good day. The language was close to what she normally spoke, so she didn’t have to put much effort into forming a proper response. Occasionally, she would try out her pseudo English accent and when folks didn’t smile (rather than laugh) in response, she thought she might have managed to remember it correctly.
The pseudo village had been built along a gently sloping hill next to a small harbor complete with docks and waterside taverns. Shade trees dotted the hillside and a dirt road connected the various shops and stops for planed entertainments as it wound its way up to the top of the hill and over the other side down to the waterfront. At the top of the hill overlooking the water a fort had been erected. Cannon dotted the walls and an occasional guard could be seen walking between the towers at the corners of the enclosure. Like most of the buildings, the fort was constructed in a way that would allow it to be dismantled and put in the back of a truck when the fair had ended. As such, under the right circumstances, it was clear that the “stone” of the walls was only well applied plaster and paint.
As she strolled along the road Katherine passed all sorts of characters; farmers and their families, townsmen hurrying about their business, servants shopping for the families they worked for and soldiers in the usual bright red coats of the British navy. Much to her amazement, she realized that higher ranking British officers did not wear red, instead they wore a dark navy blue. This discovery came about due to a chance meeting at one of the small shops along the street. An attractive gentlemen of about the same age as Katherine herself struck up a conversation about the goods offered in the shop.
Introductions were made and she expressed surprise at the man’s uniform.
“My apologies, sir, but I had been given to understand that all British uniforms were red.”
“A case of misinformation, is it?” The man’s voice was filled with good humor and his smile was slightly more than just friendly. “Never you mind, madam. I should be happy to correct that error.”
As the morning progressed, the heat grew and Katherine found herself seeking shade. Halfway to the top of the hill nestled under a group of trees next to the road, she saw an open wagon loaded with various items of clothing. A line had been strung between two trees and samples of the wares were hung on the line, blowing back and forth in the light breeze coming from the harbor below. There were several types of shirts and shifts made from home spun materials and dyed in a variety of bright colors.
Plain skirts and breeches in darker hues of blue and brown hung from a separate line on the other side of the wagon.
As she approached a small elderly woman stepped out of the shadows and smiled a greeting.
“Good day, miss.” The old woman’s voice was high pitched with a hint of a Spanish accent. “Can I interest you in something new?” The tiny woman came up to Katherine’s shoulder. Her hair was dark brown streaked with silver. Vestiges of great beauty remained even though the wizened face was creased with wrinkles, her bright eyes twinkling with good humor.
Katherine smiled at her and nodded toward one of the shirts hanging overhead.
“Yes, please. I was thinking about a shirt. To wear with my jeans?”
The old woman cast a sharp eye over her and nodded. “Aye, I think I have one that will be a perfect fit.
Moving faster than she appeared able, the tiny woman jumped into the back of the wagon and busied herself digging through several stacks of folded material. In a short time, she beckoned Katherine forward and handed her a bundle soft material. Just as quickly, she turned back to the stacks in the wagon and began rummaging again.
“Isn’t this a bit long for a shirt?”
Katherine had unfolded the garment and held it up to her shoulders. The material flowed almost to her ankles. She looked up to see the old woman once again at the back of the wagon, this time her arms were full of folded dark blue material.
“Here we are!” A skirt was unfolded in a flourish and the matching bodice was laid carefully over the skirt.
“But I -“ Katherine’s protest was cut off by shouts from several small children.
“Nana! Nana! Nana!” The sound of bare feet pounding on dry earth accompanied the cries and both women turned to see two small boys carrying half empty sacks charging toward the wagon.
“What is it? Can’t you see I have a customer?” The old woman’s voice was a trifle sharp, but it was clear she wasn’t as annoyed as she tried to appear.
“My apologies, miss. My grandsons have been trading in the market.”
“He’s here! The captain is here!” The older of the boys said as he dropped to the ground next to the wagon.
The other boy nodded, “Aye! We saw him in the crowd.” Panting he dropped next to his brother. “He did not see us, though. We hid until he passed.”
Thinking this was part of the day’s festivities, Katherine grinned. However, the grin faded when she turned back to see the serious expression on the old wrinkled face. Before she could say anything, the old woman turned to her and held out the clothing.
“Would you like to try this on? There is a tent set up in the back.”
Katherine glanced down at the shift in her hands and the skirt and bodice the old woman carried.
Normally, she detested wearing dresses of any kind. Much to her surprise, however, she nodded and followed the little woman past the wagon and to a small tent set up in the shadows under the trees.
Inside the tent, Katherine slipped off her jeans and t-shirt. The old woman gathered the shift and slipped it over her head and proceeded to adjust the ties. Staring at her reflection in an old mirror which stood in a back corner of the tent, Katherine was surprised to see how well the garment fit. When the old woman slipped the skirt over her head and proceeded to fasten it in the back, Katherine watched the process in wonder. With the application of the bodice, the transformation was complete.
The blue green eyes that looked back at her in the mirror were familiar but the rest of the form could have belonged to someone else. The shift’s three quarter sleeves were full and loose flowing from under the bodice. The ties of the shift were hidden by the bodice itself. Both seemed to work together to emphasize her bosom. The skirt flowed from a tidy waist that accentuated both bosom and hips, ending just above the tops of her walking shoes. Her mother’s gold earrings were the only things that remained from the present day. They sparkled in the lantern light.
“Did you make this?” Katherine asked, nodding at the mirror.
“Yes, miss. My daughter-in-law spun and dyed the cloth, I made the garments myself.”
“It’s wonderful!” Katherine stared at the image in the mirror feeling as if it were somehow in a museum catalog.
“You look lovely, miss.” Gentle hands brushed her hair, making it flow about her shoulders. Katherine was dimly aware of watching the old woman in the mirror as she gathered her hair and began to dress it in a simple bun at the back of her head.
“Your hair is such a pretty color!” The light from the small lantern made Katherine’s auburn hair glow.
“There!” The old woman stood back and examined her work. “Oh my! I forgot your cap.” She turned quickly and was out the door of the tent before Katherine could say anything.
Taking another long look in the mirror, Katherine had to admit that the outfit was flattering and functional.
The skirt had several pockets tucked out of sight and even seemed to be a bit cooler than her jeans.
Sounds from outside the tent drew her away from the mirror to the entrance. The trees and wagon blocked her view of the street beyond. Stepping outside the tent Katherine was struck by the stifling heat of the early afternoon. She felt as if someone had pulled a heavy wool blanket over her. Light headed, she leaned against a tree and fanned herself with her hand. A tug on her skirt caused her to open her eyes. One of the boys held out a tankard of water.
“Nana said you might need this, miss.”
Smiling at the lad, Katherine raised the tankard to her lips. The water was pleasantly cool. Sipping slowly, she could feel each drop as it slid down her throat.
“Thank you.” The boy nodded seriously and ran back to the wagon.
The sounds that had drawn her outside the tent grew louder. From all indications, a crowd was moving up the street toward the fort. Standing next to the wagon, Katherine watched what at first appeared to be revelers heading up the hill to the parade grounds of the fort. As the group passed, however, she heard several discussing the festivities and discovered that the party, if one could call it that, was a trial and execution of captured pirates and naval deserters.
Shuddering at the thought of even a mock trial and execution, she decided to instead make her way to the High Street overlooking the waterfront.
Walking to the other side of the wagon, Katherine looked for the old woman, but she was no where to be seen. The older of the young boys still sat on the ground beside the wagon, the other boy who had brought her the water was also out of sight. The youngster responded to her query about the old woman with a shrug.
“She’s gone to deliver some goods.” He said. “I don’t know how long she’ll be.”
Watching Katherine’s hesitance he added, “Why don’t you come back here on your way out this afternoon? We will be here late and you can pay us and pick up your clothes then?”
Reaching into one of the pockets in the skirt, she drew out a small fold of bills. Pulling out two twenty dollar bills, she handed them to the boy, who filled out a receipt and handed it back to her. Returning the rest to her pocket she started down the dusty street and began to make her way around to the High Street.
The street was crowded with foot traffic and Katherine slowly became aware of the noise. Everyone she saw seemed to be engaged in some sort of conversation and, in order to be heard, the speakers spoke increasingly louder. As a result, some were practically yelling.
She looked around at buildings made of wood and stone with rough-hewn doors and windows. The street below her feet was mostly dry packed earth, the dust billowing into the air with every step. As she moved slowly down the gently sloping street, she looked around at the people dressed in well worn work clothes bartering enthusiastically with cart owners for goods. Children darted in and out between the carts and the occasional dog or cat moved quickly out of the way of feet that were more inclined to kick instead of make room.
Katherine first noticed the man as she watched a game of chance being played next to the street. A group of sailors were gathered around a large table, onlookers stood around the men watching as the game progressed. Katherine had wandered off the street following the noise of the game and spent a few minutes observing the play. As she started to turn back to the street, she caught sight of the man across the road.
Tall and slender, dressed in what appeared to be a blue Navy uniform, the man leaned casually against a tree in the shade, dapples of sunlight reflecting from his blond hair. Their eyes met and a chill ran down Katherine’s back. He nodded and offered her a small smile. Even from that distance, she could tell the smile did not extend to his eyes.
Pretending she had not seen him, Katherine continued her walk toward the High Street. Soon she was swallowed up in the crowd that was making its way to the farmer’s market where baskets of fresh fruits and vegetables flowed from the backs of carts and freshly butchered meat hung from tripods to cure in the sun.
The High Street was busy today. Market day had brought out all manner of carts and goods crowded the dry packed earth of the street. Shoppers, vendors, children and animals competed for every open inch of ground. The noise was deafening. She slowly made her way through the throng, avoiding being caught in the occasional wave of people moving toward some unknown destination, or pushed into carts or stacked wares. There was no specific destination other than to get to the other side of the street and find some small spot of shade from the hot sun. She had almost made it across when a tantalizing scent caught her attention. Fresh baked breads and ripe fruits were stacked temptingly on one of the carts at the side of the street.
Katherine’s stomach growled.
It was not until a small boy ran up to her and held out a piece of the fruit that she realized she had stopped in the street. Bright brown eyes shown from under a fringe of dirty black hair and a small dirty hand held out the fruit. He smiled at her, nodding at her hesitation. “It’s for you, miss.” His smile grew brighter. “Please. If you like, my papa has more.”
Tentatively, she reached out for the gift. Before she could thank him, the boy was running off into the crowds, more samples to give away. Katherine looked down at the biggest apple she had ever seen. Round, ripe and red, the fruit glistened in her hand. The scent was intoxicating. Her stomach growled again, a not so gentle reminder that it had been a long time since breakfast.
Tucking it in her pocket she once again started down the street, this time looking for a shady spot where she could sit and eat her late lunch. As she turned away from the card, she caught sight of the blond man, this time he was searching the crowd as he walked down the hill toward her.
Katherine had lived too long in large cities to ignore the cold chill that once again ran down her back. Instinct was telling her to stay away from this stranger and she was experienced enough to pay attention to the warning.
Ducking her head and stooping a bit, Katherine stepped back into the stream of the crowd that was moving determinedly through the various carts. Spotting a bench well under a large tree, she began to move in that general direction, all the while hoping that the blond man had lost sight of her.
The crowd moved like waves of water among the various carts. Groups of shoppers seemed to move en masse to specific carts while other groups wandered with no rhyme or reason to their movements. The hawkers in the streets were busy directing traffic to their particular venue and all the while children and small animals jostled for space, calling out with either laughter, shouts or various animal chatter.
As Katherine made her way across the busy street, she glanced around for the blond man, but he was nowhere to be seen. Heaving a mental sigh of relief, she found a spot on a bench nestled under the shade of a large tree. Once she had gotten off her feet, she realized how tired and sore they were. She would have given anything to take off her shoes, but not only was it not exactly good etiquette, there just wasn’t room.
In an effort to get her mind off her aches and pains, Katherine sat back and looked around. To her right and down the hill, was the large open harbor complete with docks and several very large and very beautiful tall ships. She recognized the navy and tan colors on three of the larger ships as the standard coloring of British Naval vessels. Off to one side was a smaller ship that was brightly painted, and whose sails were not white, but a brilliant orange and black that appeared to match the colors on the hull. At the far side of the harbor were two or three ships of various sizes that had no discernible coloring or flags. All of these fair ladies of the sea appeared to rest at anchor, tied securely to their respective docks. She had no idea what each of the ships could be; none appeared to be the well known Spanish Galleon, and Katherine had no knowledge of the different types of sailing vessels.
Other than simply “large”, she was at a loss to describe them.
However, she could not help staring at them in wonder. Each of them were unique in their own way and very beautiful. Some had very ornate woodworking, others were very plain. One or two had been painted in very creative ways. The one with the orange and black sails piqued her curiosity: Katherine wondered what that particular lady would look like with her sails billowing in the wind.
The harbor did not hold only large ships; there was a myriad of craft docked all around the bay. Small fishing vessels with one mast and sail competed for space with slightly larger open vessels that appeared to hold cargo. Small open boats with no mast or sail lined an area on the beach, their bottoms turned up to the sun.
Along the beach area surrounding the bay, small shacks stood in odd configurations. Smoke billowed out of several chimneys and it was usual to see men staggering out the doors heading off into whatever direction their staggering limbs took them.
A couple of loud voices carried over the din of the shoppers and Katherine turned back to the street to see what the matter was. At the far side of the street three men stood yelling at each other. Two of the men appeared to be arguing with each other and the third was trying to get them to quiet down. After a minute or two, Katherine decided that the third man must be one of the local constables, the other two were local sailors having a disagreement about pay. Just as she came to that conclusion, a second constable joined the group and the two sailors quickly resolved their issues and moved on.
Katherine took a deep breath and stretched, easing the tightness in her back. She’d been on her feet since early morning and the rest was not only much needed, but greatly enjoyed. From her vantage point she watched throngs of people moving past the various carts, each of them serious about their trading. It occurred to her that they seemed a bit more serious than she would have expected, since it was a re-enactment and the “shoppers” were, for the most part, not actors. It suddenly occurred to her that everyone she saw was in costume.
Looking up and down the crowded street, she realized that each person was dressed in period costume, there was no one in 20th century clothing. A chill crept up her neck, making the small hairs stand on end.
A bell began to ring and the attention of those on the street turned toward the fort at the top of the hill.
Katherine overheard one of the men nearby say something about it being time for the execution. She watched as many of the shoppers gathered their belongings and turned toward the fort. As her gaze shifted, she could see the tall walls of the fort in the distance. From where she was sitting, however, the stone walls looked far more forbidding than they had earlier in the day when she first saw them.
“Hello, Beautiful.” The voice was smooth, low pitched with an English accent she could not place.
Startled, she jumped and turned to see the blond man standing next to her, one foot propped casually on the bench.
“Nice day for shopping, aye?” He looked around at the crowds milling about. “I might just pick up a few trinkets before heading back to my ship.” She followed his gaze to the nearby harbor where several tall ships waited.
“I see you found your way here safely. I’m glad. We were getting a bit worried about you.”
“You gave us quite a chase.” He chuckled, but she noticed that, once again, the smile did not rise to his eyes. They were the coldest blue she had ever seen. A chill crept up her spine and a knot of fear began to fester in the pit of her stomach.
A fruit vendor strolled by and the man motioned him over. Trading a coin for an apple, he took a bite before asking conversationally, “So, how did you get off Tortuga without my men catching you?”
She stared at him totally confused. It was obvious he thought he knew her but she had no idea who he was or what he was talking about. At first Katherine wanted to believe the man was simply taking his role, whatever that might be, a bit too seriously. As she turned back to the street, however, she caught sight of something that made her realize that things were not as she had wanted to believe.
The High Street sloped downhill on two sides, both leading to the water’s edge. The upper side of the High Street had many buildings comprised of various shops and store fronts.
At the upper far end of the street, near the fort, the sign of a candle maker stood out in the mid-afternoon light. A couple of doors down saw a butcher shop with a tanner next door. At the lower end of the street, almost at the wharf, was a blacksmith’s shop next to a large warehouse. Straight in front of her, a door opened and a shopper stepped out of a pottery shop. The shop door had opened far enough to see inside. The inside of the shop was fully fitted complete with freshly painted shelves laden with new pottery. Beyond the counter was an opening which showed a pottery wheel.
It was, to put it plainly, far more complete than any other re-enactment faire Katherine had ever seen.
“Nothing to say, eh?” He took another bite of the apple. “That is unusual. It appears that you are having some difficulty coming up with a story.” He finished the apple and tossed the core away. “Losing your touch, eh Beautiful?” The large hand that had held the fruit reached for her face.
Afterwards she would wonder who was more surprised, the man or herself. In one sweeping movement, she took the fruit from her pocket and tossed it into his face. As he jumped back to avoid being hit, she gathered her skirts and sprang to her feet. Her timing could not have been more perfect. A gaggle of chickens were making their way down the street toward her, their cackling and cawing drawing the attention of a group of small children and a few dogs. When she landed in the street, the surprised chickens attempted to fly out of her path and their sudden movement enticed the dogs and children to chase the terrified birds.
Leaving the noise and confusion behind her, she dodged around people and carts looking for a safe place to hide. Since she had no idea where she was or how the town was laid out, she had no idea where such a safe place could be. Normally she would have headed to the nearest police station, but there did not seem to be one. Up ahead was a small alcove next to some stairs leading to another street. Scurrying into it, she turned her back to the wall and moved as far back into the shadows as she could.
The stone wall against her back was solid and very, very real. The stairs beside the alcove were also very real. From her vantage point, she watched several people moving back and forth on them, the soft clatter of footsteps accompanied by the metallic rattle of swords carried by soldiers. Katherine found it odd that no one even cast a glance her way. It was as if the alcove was simply not there. Idly she wondered how long she could stay there without being seen. If it were long enough she might be able to make her way back across the footbridge to her car...
She shook her head slightly at the thought. Somehow she had a feeling her car was a lot farther away than across the footbridge.
Panting quietly, she peered out from her hiding place. In her rush to get away from the blond man, Katherine had made the major mistake of not paying attention to where she was going. She realized she had moved uphill toward the fort, somehow turning onto a street she did not recognize. Totally confused, she had no idea how to get back to the back street which led toward the old woman’s cart and on down to the entrance to the faire.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she stepped out of the alcove and began to move down hill. To her relief, no one appeared to take any notice. Looking around as she moved carefully among the people and carts, she watched for the blond man. This time he would not catch her unawares.
Katherine had made her way half way down the High Street, and was starting to relax, when a shout to one side caught her attention.
“Captain! There she be, sir!” The voice came from a man to Katherine’s right. Her glance saw him pointing at her and trying to make his way through a group of shoppers. Looking quickly to her left, she saw the blond man trying to make his own way through a different group of shoppers. For the briefest moment, Katherine stopped, uncertain what to do. It was only when the first man yelled out “Stop!
Thief!” and his crowd of shoppers turned to follow his pointing finger that she began to move.
What happened next was a combination of chaos and dumb luck. At least that is what Katherine would come to think of it.
The throng began to move, some of the people were trying to get out of the way of others who were attempting to restrain Katherine. In the pushing and shoving that ensued, people were jostled, goods were dropped and trampled underfoot and shouts of anger, explanation and apology could be heard.
To her left, Katherine saw a pathway begin to open up and she quickly gathered her skirts and began to run. The group surrounding the blond man seemed to be momentarily caught in confusion. No one moved blocking the blond man whose expression was getting darker and darker by the moment. Then, just as she thought her way clear, she saw movement from the corner of her eye and an arm reached out and grabbed her.
“There, there, miss. That will do.”
Nearly pulled off her feet by the abrupt stop, Katherine struggled to regain her balance and looked up into the face of one of the constables she had seen earlier in the day. Relief flooded her; she almost smiled at the man. The smile stopped when she saw the seriousness of his expression and heard the sounds of the crowd around them.
The constable looked around at the group. “Who called out ‘thief’” he asked. The responding murmur resulted in confusion. Apparently her accuser had disappeared.
“Did anyone see this woman steal?” The crowd murmured once again, but no one spoke up.
Given the tight hold on her arm, Katherine turned as far as she could, trying to see if either of her chasers were nearby. She had no success; the afternoon light was waning and the crowd blocked her view.
Turning back to the constable, Katherine started to explain about the blond stalker but stopped terrified.
No sound came out of her mouth. Blinking in surprise she swallowed and tried again.
“What’s that miss?” The constable looked at her in concern. He asked her name and when she didn’t answer he asked where she came from, but got no response to that, either. Try as she might, she simply could not get her voice to work. The tiniest quiver of fear began once again to make itself known in the pit of her stomach. If she could not explain herself there was no telling what would become of her.
The constable repeated his questions, but this time the only response was a look of confusion and fear.
Realizing that she needed help he attempted to get her to walk with him, but Katherine began to struggle instead.
“Oh! You’ve found her then!” They both turned toward the voice and Katherine found herself looking in amazement at the man standing beside the constable.
There was no two ways about it. The source of the voice was simply magnificent.
From all appearances, he was some sort of sailor. A little over six feet tall, his body was lean and lithe.
His movements were smooth and graceful, almost fluid, as if his body thought it was still on water.
His skin was deeply tanned from long days in the sun. His black hair was long, flowing down below his shoulders. What was not gathered in a variety of braids and pigtails blew about his head in the late afternoon breeze. He wore a tricorn hat over a red bandana that looked to have seen better days. His beard was neatly trimmed, however, in direct contrast to the wild unkempt appearance of his hair.
His clothes, while not shabby, were obviously well worn. The long blue captain’s coat was of good quality, but a small split in one of the shoulder seams was apparent. Medium blue breeches met a pair of well worn leather boots at the knee. Barely visible under the coat was a long vest that was secured by a long sash of the same material as the bandana. His scabbard was made of leather and hung over one shoulder, securing his sword.
While the man’s appearance was striking, it was his eyes that caught Katherine’s attention. He looked back at her with eyes the color of melted chocolate. A hint of amusement glinted at her from their depths, belying the seriousness of the situation.
There was something vaguely familiar about him.
“You know this woman?” The constable looked at the man, taking in the long coat, tricorn hat, bandanna and swaying posture. “Sir.” It came almost as an afterthought.
“Of course I do. She’s me stepmother’s niece.” His voice was pleasant but had the roughness that came from little or no use. There was an ever so slight slurring to his words, almost as if he’d had more than a drop to drink. “She wandered off while we were in the market. We’ve been looking for her most of the afternoon.” He leaned a bit closer to the constable and said in a quiet tone, “She’s not quite ‘right’ you see.” He said tapping his head and winking at the constable.
The constable wasn’t convinced. “What’s her name, then?”
“Her name?” The sailor appeared slightly taken aback. “Her name, my good man, is Katherine.” He looked at her and said “Isn’t it, lass?”
The constable looked back at Katherine, noted her look of surprise, and said, “Do you know this man, Miss?”
“Of course she knows me.” He stepped forward and reached out his hand. “You know old Jack would never let anything happen to ye now.”
Katherine looked into his dark eyes and felt herself relax. Without being aware of it she took the proffered hand and felt the constable let go of her arm and move away.
“I caught her running from a crowd following a thief.” He said watching Katherine closely.
“Did ye now?” Jack looked at the Constable with interest. Turning back to Katherine he said, “Were ye running away from a brigand, lass?”
Her eyes big with fear, Katherine nodded. Unable to stop herself, she shivered violently, causing Jack to pull her closer, putting an arm about her shoulders.
The constable looked on in concern. “Is she all right?” Katherine trembled and pressed her face into Jack’s shoulder. He patted her back and crooned comforting words into her ear. The constable looked on in great discomfort. Clearly this was not something he was used to and he had no desire to be part of such a spectacle in the middle of the street.
“She’s a bit delicate, sir.” Jack said in the same confidential voice. “I imagine she’s just reacting to events, ye see.”
“Very well,” The constable said not totally comfortable with what just had transpired. “You’d best get her back before she gets into any trouble.”
“Come, come lass. Let’s get you home. Aunt Fanny’ll be worried.” Tucking her hand firmly in the bend of his arm, he led her down the street toward the harbor.
Across the street, a tall figure stood in the shadows and watched the crowd disperse as the girl left accompanied by the sailor.
Darkness had fallen before they found their way back to his boat. He hadn’t said a word during the trip from the high street and Katherine found herself wondering where they were going and why he’d come to her rescue. Or was it a rescue? She wasn’t sure.
At the edge of the wharf he drew her aside and looked back over her shoulder to see if they were being followed. That constable might not have been as dim as he looked. Jack looked down to see her staring at him. He couldn’t quite make out the expression on her face, it appeared to be a mixture of confusion and amazement. A movement along the walkway caught his eye and he saw the constable and a couple of deputies moving out onto the wharf. He could barely hear them ask passers by if they’d seen a man and woman come past. It was definitely time to leave.
Quietly they moved out into the harbor, slowly easing around the large ships and staying out of the range of any lights. When they had passed out into open water, Jack maneuvered the small boat along the shoreline for several miles until he found a small inlet and brought the boat ashore.
“We’ll wait here for a bit.” He reached into one of the sacks on the bottom of the boat and pulled out a loaf of bread. “Are you hungry?” Pulling a piece of bread from the loaf for himself, he handed the rest to her.
The bread smelled as if it had recently come from the oven, the scent awoke a growl in her stomach.
Jack grinned and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully and looking out at the water.
Jack handed her an open bottle, apologizing that there were no cups. One sniff told her that the bottle contained rum. One sip reminded her that it had been a long time since she had drunk anything with rum in it. The second sip made her wonder why it had been such a long time. Before she could work up to a third sip, Jack had handed her a second piece of bread and taken the bottle for himself.
As she nibbled at the bread and watched him drink, Katherine found herself once again wondering who he was and how he had known her name. When she thought about the afternoon, she remembered thinking that it could have been a dream, then she thought she’d stumbled across some sort of fair, if not some movie set. Now, it appeared that there was no dream or fair and this was as far from a movie set as one could get. Her rescuer seemed to come out of nowhere. He didn’t often look at her, she realized. His attention was drawn to the water, but even when it wasn’t he rarely looked at her. When he did, she seemed to sense some sort of defensiveness.
Suddenly he reached for a spyglass, opened it and trained it over her shoulder. She turned to see what he could be seeing the darkness. A very small speck of light floated over the surface of the water.
“About time.” He muttered to himself as he stowed away the spyglass and bottle. Jack looked up to see her watching him and said “Aunt Fanny awaits.”