Wake stood at the door as she brushed him off. He was confused and slightly embarrassed by his relationship with the prostitute and didn’t know quite what to say.
“Annie, thank you for getting me out of there last night. I seem to remember you managed to get me away before I could do more damage. I remember us together last night also. Thank you.”
The prostitute stood back and looked up into the eyes of the young officer. She had heard it all before and never allowed herself to believe any of it. Her sense of order in the world was absolute, and she didn’t need or want any fool disrupting it. It only led to greater hurt, and she was past all that now in her life.
“Peter, you paid me well and I delivered. And I will again with pleasure, deary, as often as the money’s real. Now let’s get you along to the town and your ship.”
Annie started walking away from the shack down the path. For a moment Wake stood watching her, then finally followed when she didn’t slow or turn. He had to stride to keep up with her on the pathway through the scrub bush, realizing that she was far more energetic than he this morning.
The path seemed much shorter than it had the previous evening, and before five minutes had passed they were back amongst the houses of the town of Key West and well away from the area of the Rum and Randy Tavern. Annie turned to him and said good-bye. With a light-hearted laugh that made her appear to be years younger, she told him that she would see him again at the tavern—to be sure to bring as much money as he had last night. And then she walked away, leaving Wake to make his way toward Duval Street and the harbor.
As he walked, Wake noticed that something was different this morning in Key West but could not determine what. Then he placed it. There were no sailors or officers in the streets. A few townfolk were about but no navy men. He also noticed that he was getting stares from the civilians walking nearby. A provost marshal patrol was marching away from him down a side street, not with their usual relaxed and indifferent manner but with an agitation plainly visible. It all made Wake uncomfortable and he hurried his gait toward that which was familiar and safe for him—the harbor and his ship.
The familiar voice from the alley to his left halted him in mid-stride.
“Good morning, Peter. I heard about last night. Are you all right?”
Linda Donahue. Standing there in the morning shadows beside a bakery shop and looking like she had stepped out of one of his daily dreams of her.
She walked toward him, stopping a few feet away. He closed the distance until he could almost touch her. He desperately wanted to but dared not after their farewell six months ago. His eyes said more than his startled words.
“Linda, what are you doing here? Your goods shop doesn’t open for an hour. What do you mean, am I ‘all right’?”
“Peter, I came this way hoping to see you and make sure you were safe. I thought you might be walking this way back to the navy docks after being ashore last night.”
Though plainly dressed in her working smock, she was radiant to him. Mist started to cloud his eyes and his throat felt constricted. He stared at her and stumbled through the words forming in his mind.
“Linda, I’m fine. Linda, you look so beautiful this morning. It’s been so long. I’ve missed you more than I can say. Darling, Linda, I still love you.”
“I know that Peter. I’ve missed you horribly too. I think of you all the time and worry about you. I saw you sail in yesterday with a prize. Then this morning I heard about last night.”
Suddenly he realized she had mentioned the night before three times now. Was she aware of Annie? Of the fight at the Rum and Randy? “Linda, last night was something I want to forget. A moment of melancholy that generated a stupid decision. Please forgive me, darling. I’m not like that, and you know that.”
“Peter, that fight was something men sometimes do, even men like you. I understand that. But I was worried that you were hurt worse from the stories I heard about the riot.”
Wake’s mind took in her words and their meaning. She was referring to the fight, not Annie. But a riot?
“Dear, what riot? I had words and then blows with an officer just arrived in port. He insulted my men. But I saw no riot. I left after the officer and I exchanged knocks. What are you talking about, a riot?”
“Peter, the story is all over town that a Lieutenant Wake started a riot at the Rum and Randy Tavern last night that spread to the other navy pubs. They’re saying that sailors from the local ships were fighting sailors from visiting ships, or something like that. Dear, it got so bad they called out the troops from Fort Taylor to put down the fighting.
“Where were you last night? You didn’t know about the riot? All sailors are confined to their ships or the yard today. The town leaders are upset and everyone is talking about how terrible and undisciplined the Yankee sailors are!”
Everything he had seen so far in his walk through the town now made sense: the absence of sailors, the looks of the civilians, the nervousness of the soldiers. He couldn’t believe it. His altercation with that lieutenant commander had just taken a few seconds and he had left. He also realized that he couldn’t tell Linda where he had disappeared to after leaving the tavern.
“Linda, darling, I drank too much rum from loneliness
