“I need to convince Greenstreet to give me more time,” Kate muttered, wrapping herself in a towel and heading for her small room in the back of the tavern.
Kate considered what her father would have done in this situation. Morgan had spent most of his life in debt to someone or other and he had generally been able to placate even the most obdurate creditor with his roguish smile and silky promises.
Kate did not have a roguish smile, but she was an attractive woman and Greenstreet was a man. Her father would have advocated using her feminine wiles. Kate opened her sea chest and took out the only feminine clothes she possessed, consisting of an emerald green silk skirt and a green silk jacket with a tight fitted bodice and puffy elbow sleeves finished with lace. A lace petticoat, a cotton chemise, and silk stockings completed the outfit.
She had packed the clothes in linen and lavender; the fragrance now filled the room as she shook out each article and laid the clothes on the bed to admire them. Her father had ordered the ensemble from a dressmaker in Westfirth and presented it to his daughter on her sixteenth birthday. He had also given her a book on deportment, undoubtedly with the vague hope that feminine clothes and a book on how a lady should act would magically change his rowdy hoyden into a genteel damsel.
Kate smoothed the long silk skirt. Her mother had worn gowns such as this. Even after the servants had walked out and her mother had sold most of the furniture, she would dress in her fading silken finery every night, sit in the one chair they had left, and tell stories of the time she had been presented at court.
Kate had worn the clothes twice. She had put them on to show her father, who had laughed heartily to see her flouncing around the deck in her fine silk skirt and bare feet. The second time had been at Morgan’s funeral, standing on the deck of the Rose, watching, dry-eyed, as Olaf and the crew wrapped her father’s battered and bloody corpse in sailcloth and dumped it into the Breath in the dead of night.
Kate shivered and put the memories out of her mind. She didn’t have time for them now. She put on the chemise and the petticoat, then stepped into the skirt. Buttoning up the jacket, she looked at her reflection in the cracked mirror.
Kate was above average height for a woman, strong and muscular. Morgan had always told her she was beautiful, but then he said that to all the women he met. Kate had no claim to beauty that she could see except, perhaps, for her eyes, which were a deep brown flecked with glinting specks of gold. A drunken longshoreman had once composed a song praising her eyes. The crew had never let her forget it and would still roar it out on occasion.
Kate had considered wearing the dress when Alan Northrop had visited the Parrot during the Rose Hawk days before the war. She had seen the way he smiled at other women dressed in pretty clothes and she had wanted him to smile at her the same way. Instead, he had always treated her like a kid sister, twitting her about wearing men’s clothes, teasingly calling her “Nate” instead of “Kate.” On reflection, however, she had decided that she preferred having Alan number her among his friends and share companionable laughter with her, even if he left the tavern with a woman in a skirt.
Kate took an experimental turn around the room and ended up stepping on the hem of the petticoat, nearly tripping herself. She remembered then the book of deportment telling her that ladies took small steps. On no occasion was a lady ever to “stride.”
Kate hurriedly took off the skirt and jacket and bundled them back into her sea chest and slammed shut the lid. Once the green silk was out of sight, she breathed easier.
“The hell with feminine wiles,” she muttered. “I don’t know how to be a girl.”
She sneaked into Olaf’s room, pilfered one of his red calico shirts, and put it on over a clean pair of slops. She tied a red kerchief around her neck and shook out her wet curls. She knew better than to take a pistol. Greenstreet’s men would only confiscate it.
Entering the common room, she saw Olaf and Akiel standing at the bar, talking in low voices. Both men fell silent when they saw her and she knew by their guilty expressions they had been discussing her.
“I’m leaving for Greenstreet’s now,” Kate called, not stopping to talk, knowing what Olaf would say. “Thanks for the loan of the shirt. Mine were both dirty.”
Olaf had known Kate since she was born. He had held her in his arms when she was a baby and taken care of her when she had come to live aboard ship. Now in his seventies, Olaf walked with a crutch ever since his right leg had “given up on him,” as he put it.
After Morgan’s death, he and Kate had sailed the old Barwich Rose to the Aligoes. Kate had tried to carry on her father’s career as a smuggler, but that hadn’t worked out too well. Now she earned a living as a wrecker. Olaf had retired from sailing, though he still helped on board the Rose if Kate needed him. He had used his small savings to buy a tavern he named the Perky Parrot. Kate helped him when she could.
They worked hard and made ends meet, but Kate longed to earn more than a pittance and, like her father, she was always busy devising schemes to make her fortune.
“You shouldn’t go, Kate!” Olaf called. “I don’t like it.”
“Very well, Olaf,” said Kate, turning to him with a grin. “I will send my servant round with a note telling Greenstreet that I am indisposed. I shall call upon him another day.”
“I’ve warned you time and again, you can’t trust Greenstreet,” Olaf said, not to be deterred. “You should have never gotten mixed up with him.”
“And where was I supposed to go for money, Olaf?” Kate demanded irately. “Should I have walked into the bank in Wellinsport and asked the fine gentlemen in their fancy suits for a loan? Would they have given it to me, do you think?”
Olaf glared at her. “We didn’t need the money. We were doing fine until you found that broken-down old derelict and got come crazy scheme into your head to sail off and make your fortune!”
“I won’t be a wrecker all my life!” Kate shouted.
Picking up his crutch, Olaf stumped away, heading toward the back of the tavern. Kate sighed.
“Olaf, I’m sorry!” she called after him. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper—”
“Akiel is going with you,” Olaf yelled, and slammed the door.
“Fine,” Kate muttered. Walking out of the tavern, she slammed the door.
She hurried off, only to find Akiel following her.
“I really don’t need protection,” Kate told him. “Greenstreet just wants to know when I plan to pay him back.”
“And when do you?” Akiel asked, catching up to her.
I wish I knew, Kate thought. Aloud she said, “Soon.”
“Olaf told me Greenstreet once threatened to kill you,” Akiel said.
“That was just a warning,” Kate said. She shrugged. “He threatens to kill everyone.”
“And sometimes he carries out his threats. Olaf said I was to come with you,” said Akiel.
“Suit yourself,” said Kate.
She continued down the dirt road that led into the shore town of Freeport. The Perky Parrot was located on the outskirts of town, only a short distance from the docks. The road was lined with whitewashed stucco houses. Men and women sat on the stoops of some of the houses, fanning themselves, gossiping, and watching their children play. A few waved at Kate, who was well liked, mainly because she was a hard worker and didn’t ask anyone for anything.
Their feelings would have been different if they had known she was the granddaughter of a viscount, but no one did. Kate made sure of that.
“Why did Greenstreet threaten to kill you?” Akiel asked.
“My fault,” said Kate. “I deserved it. When Olaf and I arrived here with nothing except the Rose, I decided I’d carry on the family business and I began smuggling whiskey from Freya. I should have given Greenstreet his cut like Morgan always did, but I thought I could get away with it.
“Greenstreet confiscated my cargo and suggested I find another line of work or I would meet the same fate as my father. That’s when I b
ecame a wrecker.”
Akiel shook his head. “And you borrowed money from this man.”
“It takes money to make money,” Kate said defensively. “Once Victorie is ready to sail, I will make money. Lots of it. You’ve heard of Captain Alan Northrop, the famous privateer?”
“Of course,” Akiel replied. “Everyone has heard of him.”
“Captain Northrop was the leader a group of young Freyan noblemen who called themselves the Rose Hawks. Before the war, they would capture Rosian ships and raid Rosian and Estaran towns. Captain Northrop and the Rose Hawks would visit the Parrot every time their ship docked in Freeport. Alan promised me that if I ever owned my own ship, I could join up with him. Become a privateer.”
“I do not recall ever seeing him in Freeport,” said Akiel.
“He hasn’t been here for several years, not since the war ended,” said Kate. “But I know he’ll remember me.”
Kate certainly remembered Alan Northrop, his dark wavy hair and melting eyes and devil-may-care smile. He had the reputation of being a ladies’ man, but there had been something in the way he looked at her that made her feel she was different from all the others.
“Look out for that puddle,” Akiel warned.
Kate circled around a large area of water flooding a low point in the road.
“Captain Northrop pays a one-fifth share of the loot he captures to those who sail with him,” Kate continued. “Once he captured a Travian shipment of gold that proved to be worth over eight hundred thousand Freyan eagles. Imagine!”
“A vast sum. What would you do with so much money?” Akiel wondered.
Kate glanced around to make certain no one was listening. “You can’t tell anyone. I would use the money to buy Barwich Manor, my family’s estate in Freya. I will be the lady of the manor, like my mother.”
Akiel was amazed. “Your family owns a manor?”
“We did own it,” Kate corrected. “We don’t anymore. The bank has it now.”
“What happened?” Akiel asked.
Kate shrugged. She thought of the family motto. “What always happens—no luck.”
Reaching the outskirts of the town, Kate turned off the main road onto a path lined with flowering bushes and lime trees. The path was about half a mile long and led to a large two-story house, painted white, with a veranda that encircled the house, and a red tile roof. Palm trees and shade trees surrounded the house, planted to keep the interior dark and cool. Flowering hedges lined the walkway. A well-trimmed lawn extended from the path to the distant jungle.
Kate stopped at the edge of the lawn and turned to face Akiel. “Olaf will need you to start cooking supper. I will meet you back at the Parrot.” Seeing Akiel start to protest, she added, “You know that the customers will leave if they have to eat Olaf’s cooking.”
The tavern served only one dish each night and that was either chicken stew or pork stew. Akiel livened up the plain fare with vegetables and spices such as ginger root and hot peppers. Ever since he had started cooking, the supper and dinner crowd had grown.
Akiel made his protest anyway. “Olaf told me to come with you.”
“You may do the cooking for Olaf, but you work for me,” said Kate.
Akiel did not budge.
Kate put her hand on his arm and looked up into his eyes. “When I said that Greenstreet threatened me, that wasn’t exactly true. He threatened Olaf. He told me if I didn’t stop smuggling, his men would beat him and burn down the Parrot.”
“Olaf doesn’t know about this?” Akiel asked, frowning.
“I never told him,” said Kate. “He warned me about Greenstreet and he would say ‘I told you so’ and I would never hear the end of it. Don’t worry. I can fix this. But if things do go wrong, you need to be there to protect him. I can take care of myself.”
“What do I tell Olaf?”
“That I sent you back and if he doesn’t like it, he can take it up with me.”
Akiel mulled this over. “Very well. But if you are not home by suppertime, I will come looking for you.”
“I will be back,” Kate promised.
Akiel nodded, then slowly retraced his steps down the lane.
Kate proceeded on toward the house. Two of Greenstreet’s men were lounging in rocking chairs on the veranda. Apparently they were expecting her, for as she stepped onto the veranda, one man wearing duck trousers and a dirty shirt stood up and opened the door for her. Once they were inside he grunted at her and pointed to a chair in the entryway. Kate sat down opposite a closed door
The man knocked on the door, called out, “She’s here, boss,” and walked over to stare out the window.
Kate glanced around. She had never been in Greenstreet’s house before. She didn’t see much of it. The hall was lined with doors leading to other rooms and they were all closed. The house was deathly quiet; the only sounds came from birds and animals outside.
A voice called, “Send her in, Jacob!”
The man—presumably Jacob—stood up, walked over, opened the door, and grunted once more. Kate assumed this meant she could enter. She walked into the room; it was empty except for a small chair, a large desk, a large chair behind the desk, and a large man in the large chair. The only object on the desk was a folded-up newspaper. The room was cool, with a slight breeze blowing through the open windows.
Kate recognized the large man in the chair. She had seen Greenstreet only once, but he was hard to forget, being so big that parts of him spilled out over the chair. He pointed to the small chair, apparently an invitation to sit down.
“Captain Kate,” Greenstreet said, leaning back in his chair and peering up at her from beneath hooded eyelids. “You are properly addressed as ‘Captain Kate,’ I presume.”
Kate had no idea what he was talking about. “My crew calls me ‘captain.’ I guess you can, as well.”
“Thank you, Captain Kate.”
Greenstreet laid emphasis on the words and chuckled. A corpulent man, he was dressed all in white—a concession to the heat—wearing a white jacket, a white shirt, and a white waistcoat that did not button over his expansive middle. He liked to refer to himself as jovial. He was good-humored and always smiling. He had smiled the entire time he had warned Kate that he would have his men beat Olaf within an inch of his life.
“You have been holding out on me, Captain,” said Greenstreet.
Kate was uneasy, thinking he must have found out about Victorie, afraid he might try to claim her ship to pay off her debt. She affected ignorance. “What do you mean, holding out on you? I’m good for the money I owe you. It will just take a little time. I made a fine haul a day or so ago—”
“The Travians. Yes. A piddling amount and you know it.”
“Then what do you mean?” Kate asked.
Greenstreet shoved the newspaper across the desk.
“Read that, Captain.”
Mystified, Kate picked up the newspaper, the Haever Gazette, dated several weeks ago. She glanced at the articles about the death of the crown prince, including a lengthy description of his funeral and speculation on the heir to the throne.
“What does this have to do with me?” Kate asked. She grinned. “Unless you think I’m one of the heirs. I can assure you I’m not.”
Greenstreet smiled. “Most amusing. Page seven.”
Kate opened the paper and turned to page seven. She saw a lurid illustration of a beautiful young woman, armed with a cutlass, riding on the back of a fire-breathing dragon. The illustration was part of an article titled “The Adventures of Captain Kate and Her Dragon Corsairs. A True Story.”
“Bloody hell!” Kate gasped.
SEVEN
Kate read just enough of the story to know she was in serious trouble. Before she could say anything, Greenstreet confirmed her fears by playfully wagging his finger at her.
“You and your dragon have been raiding ships, stealing treasure, holding rich men for ransom. And all this time, you owe me money and claim you cannot pay.”
“I swear I haven’t done any of this, Greenstreet,” Kate protested.
Greenstreet appeared to ruminate. “Let us consider this. Kate is your name. You are captain of the Victorie, which is the name of that derelict brig you borrowed money from me to restore.”
“I know this looks bad, Greenstreet, but I can explain—”
“And you partner with a dragon. I received a complaint from the Travians who claimed a dragon acting on your orders attacked their ship and set fire to it. In addition to that, I have received reports that a dragon has been observed flying at night in the vicinity of Freeport.”
Greenstreet leaned back and clasped his hands over his capacious belly. “A series of remarkable coincidences?”
“The Travians were trying to steal the wreck from me,” Kate said. “I should be the one to complain about them. The Travians threatened to sink my ship! Dalgren was only defending me—”
“Ah, you admit you partner with a dragon.”
“He is a friend,” Kate said. “And I’m not a corsair or a pirate—as you damn well know!”
She bounded up out of the chair, slammed her hands on the desk and leaned over it to look Greenstreet in the eye. “You keep yourself informed about everything that goes on in the Aligoes. You know this story isn’t true!”
She jabbed her finger at the newspaper.
“Sit down, Captain,” said Greenstreet. “I do not like to have to crane my neck to look up at you.”
Kate hesitated, then threw herself back into the chair and crossed her arms over her chest.
“It’s not true,” she repeated.
“Then how did such a tale come to be written? Are you claiming this Amelia Nettleship made up the specific details? She just happened to use your name, the name of your ship, the name of your dragon friend?…”
“Miss Amelia didn’t make it up,” said Kate. She drew in a deep breath. “I did.”
“I think you had better explain,” said Greenstreet.
Kate felt her cheeks burn. “About six months ago I was in Wellinsport selling cargo. I was in the auction hall watching the sale when this woman came up to me. She said her name was Amelia Nettleship and she was a journalist. Someone told her I was captain of my own ship. She said she had never met a female captain before and she wanted to buy my story. She offered to pay me five eagles for it.”
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