Chase wakes in a dark cabin to the sound of the Captain yelling. The boat is no longer moving, they must be anchored. “Lower the sails,” the Captain shouts. They had to wait in the sound, anchored until they could find space at the dock. Refreshed from his sleep, Chase swings his legs over the side of the bed and washes his face with clean water before moving to the chair to strap on his gun belt.
“What the hell?” One of his pistols has gone missing. He quickly looks for the second pistol and finds it’s loaded, and his rifle is still propped up in the corner. Stomping out of the room, he climbs the ladder quickly and seeks out the captain.
“Welcome to New Jersey, Marshall,” Allen calls out as he nods at the crew member to check the anchor. Aimee comes out of the Captain’s quarters and joins them.
“Thank you, Captain. I seem to be missing a pistol. Where’s Bronnah?” he asks looking around the deck.
“She’s lying down in your cabin, no?” Aimee replied.
"No. I just came from the cabin." Chase narrowed his eyes and looked at Allen. "Bronnah!" Chase calls out but gets no response. A dangerous thought enters his mind. She couldn't have taken his pistol and…
Allen whistles and all the crew members assemble on deck. Five men of varying heights and ages, all standing at attention. “Locate Ms. O’Dalaigh!” They disperse and search quickly.
"She can't have gotten very far. The ship isn't that big," Aimee says to reassure him.
“Cap, we’re missing a dingy.” One of the crew member’s reports.
“What do you mean, we’re missing a dingy? All crew members are accounted for, correct.”
Allen looked at Chase for a second before they both go running for the side of the ship.
“Ce n’es pas possible?” It’s not possible, Aimee asked in horrified shock as she follows them.
"Damn!" Chase runs for the dock. "How long has she been gone? It couldn't have been more than an hour. We had to drop an anchor until we could dock."
“How did she learn to use a rowboat?” Aimee asked.
"I may have told her how?" Says a young voice from behind them.
Chase turns on him and glares, “Tell me exactly what she asked you,” he demands.
A few moments later, he’s stomping down the docks with his guns loaded, and snarls, “Damn fairy eyes…”
Bronnah tucked Chase's Colt she borrowed into her carpet bag and climbed into the rowboat. She stashes it and grabs the oars, just as the young sailor demonstrated, then lowers the lever. With everyone at the front of the ship, preparing to dock she has a few moments to make her escape.
The boat lowers silently into the water, and she grins, dipping the oars into the water. Biting her lip, she rows hard for the closest dock she sees. Lucky for her the sun has not set yet, giving her time to make it quickly to shore. Fear is ripe in her belly, and she wishes Chase were with her, but his priorities and hers are not the same.
Hopefully, he will follow and help, but right now all she can hear is the sound of her own words burning a hole in her chest. They fill her with a sense of urgency that can’t be reasoned away.
"Your sisters and daughters are in peril. What will you do?" She asks herself as she lowers the oars and rows harder. It is a busy evening, and many boats are anchored in the sound waiting for their turn to dock. Bronnah aims the boat for the closest dock and ignores the strange stares from the men, as she struggles with the small boat.
“I forgot to ask him how to dock!” She squeals and is rewarded when three sailors come running to help. The dock master turns to scan the sound when he notices a commotion near one of the docks. One hand grabs the boat, while another takes the rope to secure it while another reaches out a hand to help pull Bronnah up onto the wood decking.
“Oh, thank you,” she squeaks. One of the young men drops into the boat and grabs her bag handing it to her. “That’s very kind of you.”
The dock master marches over and roars, “What’s all this about, then?” In a strong Gaelic accent. “Get back ta work.”
"Thank you for coming to my rescue." Bronnah turns to look at the heavyset older sailor with a thick white beard, hat, and pipe. She smiles at his grumble as the men bow and back away.
“Oh, don’t ya be bothering to bat those beauties at me, lass. I’m immune.”
“Then I’ll just be shoving off, Captain,” Bronnah snaps in her own accent and tries to step around him. “I have a schedule ta keep.” His deep laugh stops her.
"Not likely lass. I can't have you running free around my docks, like some siren on the loose. I have ta think of all the hearts you'll break." Bronnah glances over her shoulder knowing she won't have much time till they discover her missing.
“My husband, U.S. Marshall Chase Rivers is on
