The Captain paced over next to Tim, a hesitant and pained expression plaguing his face.
“Sir, that ship is flanked by two hostile vessels, even if we can overtake her, we will be utterly exposed. It would be folly,” he began, interrupted by Tim’s dagger coming into his sight from its sheath. Tim’s eyes locked onto the Captain and his lips curled up, baring his teeth like a wolf challenged over a fresh kill.
“I gave you a directive, Captain. You have been paid handsomely, should you fail your duties I will see fit to relieve you, permanently, and select a more effective captain from the ranks of your crew.” Tim’s reply hissed through clenched teeth, his anger and urgency boiling through.
“Yes, yes, we will pursue with all haste. Right to a watery grave,” the Captain answered defiantly, “But, as you wish Mr. Sladen.”
The course change came abruptly, shouted commands bounced around the deck for a few moments and the helmsman labored at the wheel. The crew made quick work of adjusting their sails to coax every bit of speed they could from the winds. Tim’s morbid grin returned to his face as he watched the sails of the Gazelle, the Georgia Spirit gathered more speed and their approach quickened. It became obvious to Tim that they would overtake the ship in less than an hour. The last glow of daylight had faded, but lanterns aboard the Gazelle remained lit and with two more ships behind him, Tim was unconcerned about the two flanking vessels. He turned to one of the sailors who had paused working to take in the sight of their target as they approached.
“Go get my prisoner and haul his fat ass up on deck.” Tim barked, “Dress the bastard and throw some water on him while you’re at it. I’d rather not smell his shit.”
“Yes sir,” he replied, quickly scrambling to his new task.
Tim’s eyes were immovable from the silhouette of the Gazelle, cast along the water by soft light from its lanterns. The dim light from the lanterns cast an odd glow up onto the Gazelle’s main sails, outlines from a web of rigging splayed across. They looked like arms reaching up from a fiery hell, reaching toward some salvation that would not come. The smell of the salty sea air suddenly seemed like perfume to Tim’s nose, the wooden deck at his feet no longer seemed as foreign. This setback would be just that, he thought, a setback. He had feared his undoing, but as long as he recovered the payment hidden within the hold of the Gazelle, he could secure his own future. Governor Alton would be another matter entirely, but Tim had never been beholden to Alton, much less loyal. When the time came, he would offer Alton up to the Order and rid himself of the ineffectual swine forever. Perhaps, he could even restart this endeavor.
Governor Alton stumbled along as the sailor who was sent to retrieve him pulled at his bound hands. He had been given ill-fitting clothes that looked to Tim’s eye to be something very near burlap in texture. Alton wore the look of a disgraced man, his station in life had deteriorated from statehouses and fine dining to wearing rags and sitting in a pile of his own feces.
“Un-hand me you son of a bitch, I am a Lord by rights!” Alton screeched furiously.
“There’s no Lords in America, to me you’re just a whiny fat man, stinking of shit,” the sailor replied with a laugh.
“I’ll take it from here sailor.” Tim said elevating his voice slightly. The sailor gave a shrug and let go of Alton’s shackles.
“Thank you Tim.” Alton huffed, “Now could you get them to remove these? Please, Tim, I’m not escaping you with or without them.”
“No, Lord Governor. I think shackles suit you for the time being and I would hate to have to kill you to prevent your escape. I’m afraid they are going to remain. Besides Governor, it’s a good look for you, perhaps if you stay a prisoner you may even lose some of that excess weight.” Tim jested, smiling broadly at Alton’s misery.
The Governor groaned and grumbled something under his breath, unintelligible but still annoying to Tim.
“Alton, if you look just ahead of us, you will see, the Gazelle is within our grasp. I will have the Order’s promised payment. Do you know what that means?” asked Tim with words dripping in condescension.
“No, Tim, I have no idea what that means. Why don’t you stop clowning around with me and just bloody tell me what in the hell is going on?” Alton shouted angrily, shaking his shackles in a flare of rage.
“Calm down Governor. There is no need to be that upset, I’ll have you back down in your cell in no time. I just thought you would like to see the instant you become unnecessary.” Tim quipped, smirking as he spoke.
“Un, unnecessary?”
“Yes, Governor. If I have the payment for the Order, I won’t need to ransom you. In fact, they will probably greet me with open arms. I may even be able to rebuild this effort.” Tim gloated.
“Whatever. Do what you will, do what you want. I don’t give a damn anymore, just do it! Kill me, toss me to the sharks, drown me, whatever. But bloody well do it, I have had enough of sitting in that cell…” Alton raged, until Tim raised a finger as he looked out to the Gazelle. They were just yards from her now.
“In due time, Governor.” Tim replied, “Why is there no crew on her deck?”
As they approached the Gazelle, Tim noticed the ship’s wheel had been tied in place. No hands were about the deck, none aloft in the rigging. Nothing but the eerie glow of lanterns gave any clue that there was any life aboard the vessel. “Grapple lines!” the Georgia Spirit’s captain called out and
