The Captain of Her Heart

by Anita Stansfield

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  For days that seemed endless, Ritcherd diligently questioned every person who didn’t look like they’d rather shoot him than talk. The majority of the people were close-lipped and unwilling to help. But Ritcherd was careful to watch people’s eyes when he described Kyrah, and he felt confident that no one had lied to him when they said they’d not seen her.

  Each day at the same time, Ritcherd met Garret at a certain table in a tavern called the Captain’s Wheel. Garret often made humourous references to the name, and said if they were to meet anywhere for a drink, it would have to be there. Ritcherd was endlessly grateful for Garret’s daily encouragement and lighthearted attitude concerning his search for Kyrah. And he came to depend on their daily meeting to keep him going.

  Ritcherd had lost track of the days they’d been in port when he came across a man sitting casually in front of a cobbler’s shop. From his rough appearance and crafty eyes, Ritcherd doubted that his main occupation was really making shoes. He almost didn’t ask him, but he couldn’t pass anyone by, or he’d always wonder if they might have been the one who knew something. He asked the usual questions, and his heart quickened when he saw recognition in the man’s eyes. He seemed hesitant to talk, but when Ritcherd handed him some money, he stuffed it up his sleeve and said, “Yeah, I seen ’er.”

  Ritcherd’s heart raced as he sat down. “When?” he asked, trying to stay calm.

  “Been a long time.”

  “Did ye speak with ’er?” Ritcherd asked.

  “Yeah. She wanted me t’ buy somethin’ from ’er.”

  “What?” Ritcherd pursued.

  “It were some diamond earrings. Pretty things. I made a healthy profit from ’em, too.”

  Ritcherd’s stomach churned with mixed emotions. He didn’t know whether to jump up and down or cry. She’d been here. He knew that. He had a lead. But what kind of desperate situation was she in now, if she’d had to sell her earrings a long time ago? He knew her, and he knew she wouldn’t have sold them if she hadn’t needed the money very badly. He told himself he should be grateful to know that she’d brought them with her and they had given her the means to meet her needs. There was a degree of peace in knowing that she hadn’t been left here penniless.

  “’Ave ye seen ’er since?” Ritcherd asked. If she’d had to resort to selling the necklace, she’d have come to the same place.

  “No,” he said flatly, “I ain’t.”

  “If ye see ’er again,” Ritcherd said, “could ye tell ’er that Cap’n Buckley is aboard the Phoenix and needs t’ see ’er?” He hoped she would realize it was him.

  “If I see ’er,” the man replied, “I can tell ’er.”

  “Thank ye,” Ritcherd said and gave him more money. “Thank ye very much.”

  The man looked into his hand and smiled. “My pleasure.”

  It was several days later before Ritcherd found the boardinghouse where Kyrah Payne had stayed. His heart jumped freshly when he saw her signature on the registry. He knew it well. Although the woman he spoke with was hesitant and ornery, she told him everything she knew when he offered her money in return. Kyrah’s stay there had begun the day the Libertatia had arrived in port. She had paid for most of her stay in advance, and had eaten the two daily meals that were included with the fee. She’d left each day after breakfast, and come in each evening before supper. She had been extremely quiet and kept to herself, and no one there had learned anything about who she was or where she was from. No one had cared to.

  “And that’s it,” Ritcherd stated.

  “As far as I can remember,” the old lady said. “Oh, wait. There was a man come in with ’er a time or two.”

  “What did ’e look like?” Ritcherd asked, feeling more than a little unsettled.

  “Seems like ’e was dark, about yer age. Didn’t look like ’er type. But then,” she added, “ye don’t either.”

  When the woman had told all she knew, Ritcherd walked back onto the street, feeling no closer to finding Kyrah than he had before. When she’d left the boardinghouse, she had done so without any comment as to where she was going, and she’d not been seen since. He walked slowly to the pier and gazed out to sea, wondering where to go from here. It was almost more frustrating to know that she’d been here and left than not to know anything. He kept thinking: if only they’d gotten here sooner. He glanced toward the Phoenix, resting peacefully at the dock. The painting of the vibrant bird with the sun behind its wings somehow gave him the motivation he needed to keep searching.

  The following day began a stretch of more than a month that Ritcherd tore the town apart searching for Kyrah Payne. He knew where she had purchased almost everything she must have bought since she’d arrived. But no one had any idea where she was now. He went again to the pier as he did each evening, and gazed longingly at the painting of the phoenix, as if it might give him an answer. He could hear the seagulls crying above him and gazed upward at them flying easily in circles above the sea. If only he could fly, he thought. He could find her if he could fly.