ChapterSix
The familiar misty breeze of the ocean tousled my hairand stirred me from unconsciousness. I pried open my dry, sandcoated mouth and rolled over to face the warm sun above, noting acouple of seagulls circling above.A coarse moan escaped my lips as I pushed my body upright to lookaround and found that I wasn’t alone.
A stray goatsniffed at my face and let out a loud baaaaa, kicking my heart awake before runningoff. My eyes followed the animal and saw that I appeared to be on abeach with a long stretch of grass behind me, the faint hint ofsmoke tops in the distance.
I made it.
Afterassessing my body to confirm that I was okay, and still had mytrusty satchel of goodies, I scrambled to my feet. Adrenaline washot through my veins as I jumped up and down with my armshigh in the air. “Yes!” I screamed to the skies and my woundedshoulder angrily protested. “I did it!”
After allowinga quick happy dance on the sand, I checked my shoulder to make sureit was alright and headed off in the direction of the smokestacks. I had to figure out where I was andfind a place to stay while I sussed out the word on land. It didn’ttake long to find a gravel road which led into the nearbycommunity. The landscape was familiar, but I could have beenanywhere in Newfoundland for all I knew. The gravel crunchedbeneath the soles of my leather boots as I walked and inhaled thesweet air. I smiled as the rooftops of the town came into full viewand I ran toward the small wooden sign at the end of the road.
“HarbourGrace?” I spoke out loud and thenlaughed to myself. I had landed where the most notorious pirate ofall time, Peter Easton, fortified his base and ruled Newfoundlandhundreds of years ago. History said that no ship passed through theharbor without Easton’s crewclaiming it. Thankfully, his reign over the area ended in the1600s, nearly a hundred years from the past I then stood in. Butthat wasn’t the only good thing. Harbour Grace wasn’t that far fromCupers Cove, so finding out what happened to The Devil’s Heartshould prove to be an easy task.
My tired legsstrolled along as I took in the quaint houses and bustling seasidetown. The docks were alive with fishermen, merchants, traders, andthe harbor was riddled withvessels of all sizes. The sight of the sails stirred something inmy soul, a familiar sense of home, and I longed to be on the seaagain. The smell of the sea mixed with baked goods filled mynostrils and tickled my stomach, alerting me to the fact that I wasstarving. I came across a tavern, the hand-painted sign telling me it was called The SlipperyCod and entered with a grin.
Inside, Ifound a few tables along the front window where some fishermen sat,and a weathered front desk area that looked like it doubled as abar. “Hello?” I called. I could feel the men’s eyes on me. From theswinging saloon-style doors behind the bar, a young woman camecharging out with a tray full of plates and mugs, her plain cottondress visibly worn with the days duties. She caught the sight of meand smiled.
“I’ll be rightwith you,” she told me quickly as she passed, heading toward thesitting men. I watched her set down the tray and place food anddrinks in front of each eagerly awaiting man. A couple of themsized up her behind as she leaned across the table, something I’msure she was used to but still made me sick to witness. She scoopedup her empty tray and turned to come toward me when one of the mengrabbed her hand and pulled her back.
“When are yegonna sell me that boat of yers?”he asked her.
Thebarmaid plastered on a smile.“Now, Fergus, you know I can’t part with it. I’ve told you ahundred times.” She attempted to leave again, but the Ferguscharacter wouldn’t have it. His expression turned sour as he yankedon her arm again.
“Now ye listenhere,” he warned her as she wriggled against his hold. “A boat likethat is nothin’ for a fine young lady to have. Best sell it to aman who can use it.”
I’d hadenough. The era be damned, Iwasn’t going to stand there while a woman got harassed by a grossold man. I strolled over to them, removing my dagger from mysatchel as I did, and then brought it down on the tabletop with aquick jab, the tip driving into the surface. The three men threwthemselves back in their chairs and eyed the dagger with fearbefore turning their gazes to me. One man jumped up from his seatwhile pointing at my knife.
“T-that be themark of The Burning Ghost,” he announced.
I stole aquick look at my knife, knowing itonce belonged to Maria but never noticed the etched skull inside aflame on the opposite side of her carved initials. I tried to hidemy surprise and used this to my benefit while grinning at theshell-shocked men.
“Gentlemen,” Iaddressed, “Do we have a problem here?”
They tippedtheir flat hats and scuttled around as they grabbed their coats.“No, ma’am,” one replied before they all ran out the door.
I leanedforward and fetched my dagger from the table, internally reelingfrom what I just did, and finally sheathed it at my side instead oftossing it back in the bag. I then turned my attention to thebarmaid who stood with her handson her hips.
“Whothe hell are you?” she asked, eyeswild.
“I’m–” who wasI? “not from around here. I just got to town.” The bard maid noddedcuriously. “I’m looking for a room for a few nights. If you haveone.”
I noted herlooking at my ears and then remembered that I forgot to take out mydiamond
