Quest of Honor Read online

  “I have no wish to meet another young lady that you will trot out before me like I am buying horseflesh at the auction house,” he replied, tersely. “Besides, I have much to do before I am ready to board.” He lifted his eyes to his mother and saw the frustration on her face.

  “Thomas,” his mother wheedled. “Don’t you wish to have some beautiful young lady waiting for you when you return from the sea?”

  “No,” he replied, firmly.

  “A wife? Children?”

  “No, and no,” he retorted. “I would not put anyone in that situation, Mother, particularly not children.”

  She frowned. “What situation is that, Thomas?”

  He sighed heavily. "The situation where they might very well be robbed of a husband and father," he replied. "The sea is not always kind." In his years of working for the Navy, Thomas had seen how the sea could claim a life. It was a danger he accepted every time he set foot on a ship, but he had vowed that he would not marry until he had left that life – which did not look to be happening anytime in the near future.

  To his surprise, his mother did not respond with shock as he had expected. Instead, she simply shook her head at him. “You have chosen a dangerous profession, Thomas.”

  “No, I have chosen a respectable profession, mother,” he clarified. “You would not wish me to waste my life now, would you?”

  “But there is no need for you to be here!” his mother exclaimed. “You already have your fortune and can live as you please. Parties, soirees, cards…society!” Her face took on a rapturous look. “Why you shun that, I shall never understand.”

  At least there is one thing we can agree on, Thomas thought to himself, ruefully. He had never been attracted to the idea of living with nothing in particular to do. Yes, his father was a Duke, and yes he did have something of a handsome fortune, but that did not mean he intended to waste his life on drink and women. His brother, the heir apparent, might prefer that to any kind of useful endeavor, but it was not for Thomas.

  “I’m afraid I must ready myself to board, mother,” he said, rising from his chair and walking over to her. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  His mother kissed his cheek, her countenance suddenly cold. Thomas shrugged it off, having become well used to her attempts to manipulate his behavior into doing what she wanted.

  “Tell me you are still not hunting down this single pirate,” she said, with a wave of her hand. “You have not caught him yet?”

  “Goodbye, Mother,” Thomas replied, refusing to answer her questions. “I shall visit once I return to shore. Please do pass on my regards to Father and everyone else.”

  With a quiet humph, his mother turned on her heel and marched from his office, clearly irritated with his refusal to respond as she wished. Relieved, Thomas sank down into his chair and tipped it back, looking up at the ceiling as if for guidance.

  If only his mother could understand the desperation he felt in his inability to, thus far, capture the one man the Navy found so elusive. Many pirates roamed the waters, but the man they called Captain Adams was able to outrun their ships with seemingly great ease. They would hear a report of where he was, only to get there and discover that he and his legendary ship, the Gunsway, were gone. He seemed to know when and where they would be coming for him and always managed to evade their grasp.

  Thomas thought back to when he had first been given the assignment. In truth, he had laughed to himself over the ineptitude of those who had gone before him in their inability to capture one man. However, that arrogance had faded quickly as, time after time, the man managed to give him the slip. Apparently, he paid his crew well, so that none wanted to turn on him. No one was willing to be paid off in order to provide information so, in short, Thomas knew very little about Captain Adams and, in over three years, had only once caught sight of him.

  Thomas had joined the Navy out of a desire to explore the world, and see beyond the ballrooms of England. He had yearned for the freedom of the seas and ports bordering the oceans. Instead, he was now trapped in a never-ending chase that consumed his every waking moment.

  Frustration fired through him as he tipped his chair back down and sat up straight, his square jaw set as he thought about the elusive pirate. The man was mocking him with his seemingly easy escapes. Other Navy ships ostensibly had no issues in capturing pirates, bringing many to justice, but still, he failed in his task. Shame hung over him like a dark cloud, knowing that many in the Navy found his failure something of a joke.

  Thumping his desk, Thomas vowed in his heart that this time, he would find and capture the pirate Adams. His scourge would no longer blight the seas, stealing from whoever he chose and keeping whatever he found. There had to be someone, somewhere, that could help him in his quest. He just had to find them.

  “Captain?”

  Looking up, Thomas got to his feet as his first mate, Smith, entered the room.

  “The ship is ready for you, Captain Harrington.”

  Nodding, Thomas gathered up his papers and walked around from behind his desk. “Very good. All of my luggage is in the cabin already, I presume?”

  Smith nodded, standing aside as Thomas preceded him out of the door. Walking to the docks, Thomas stood and took in his ship. It was one of the Navy’s finest, cutting through the heavy seas with ease and giving him peace of mind as he boarded.

  “We are to make for Arwenack Castle, Captain?”

  Thomas nodded. “Yes. I have received reports that the Gunsway has berthed there. It seems Captain Adams has returned to British waters after spending many months away. Perhaps this gives us the opportunity we have been seeking.”

  “I hope so, sir.”

  The fervency in the first mate’s voice matched Thomas’ own strength of feeling. The crew, he knew, were growing weary from their lack of success, and he could not blame them for that.

  “Weigh anchor,” Thomas instructed. “And let us pray that the wind remains favorable.”

  Walking to his cabin, Thomas threw himself into the chair by his desk and laid out his papers. Whether Captain Adams was in the port of Arwenack Castle remained to be seen, but he fully intended to make it a worthwhile trip regardless. Someone there would have seen the pirate, and from that, he might be able to make a proper sketch of how the pirate looked. The man would have changed in three years.

  Then he would make up a paper, offering a generous reward for Captain Adams, and would instruct his crew to plaster them anywhere and everywhere they could find when they came into port. Thomas was quite determined. Adams would be in his custody soon.

  3

  “Papa,” Eleanor hissed, as she pulled the cloak’s hood a little more tightly around her face. “We must be quick.”

  “Hush, child,” he replied, calmly. “There are no Navy ships in the vicinity. We might take some time here. You know I have gifts to distribute.”

  Eleanor trudged alongside her father, her instincts telling her to hasten back to shore at once. She never felt truly safe on dry land, fully aware that Captain Harrington was searching for her father. He had been doing so for the last three years but had never succeeded. Still, that did not calm her troubled mind. She wished her father would give his gifts to the poor more hastily than he was doing, but he insisted on talking to each person they met first. He wanted to encourage them, she supposed, finding that she could not fault him for that.

  It had taken many weeks to return to England from the Caribbean, their holds almost bursting with treasure. Much of it had been stored safely away, in a place only she and her father knew, but the rest had been given to the crew and now to the poorest in society. It was not that they did not trust the crew, but her father had always taught her that it was best to have some secrets, even keeping things from those you trusted the most. In the dead of night, she had boarded one of the smaller boats, with her father taking the other, and together they had rowed for many hours until they had come to the mouth of the caves. It had been there that Eleanor and Captain
Adams stored their treasure, in one of the caves that lay far away from the shoreline, through twists and turns of the canal. How her father had come upon it, Eleanor did not know, but she was relieved to see that nothing had been taken. Every single jewel, every single gold coin was still there. This was now her fourth trip to the cave, and still Eleanor was not quite sure she would know the way herself. Her father would give her the map to it one day, he promised her, but the exact location he kept to himself.

  The crew had been overjoyed to receive their pay and such a hefty bonus. While the first mate and one or two of the cabin hands remained on board, keeping the ship out of sight of the port, the rest of the crew had taken the boats to shore and were currently enjoying themselves with all manner of entertainments. Eleanor guessed there would be some muddled heads in the morning, but that did not offend her sensibilities. It was exactly what she expected and the life she knew. Her father had never been so inclined, at least not since she was born, but that didn’t mean he did not allow his crew to fulfil their wishes.

  Smiling at her father, she saw him bend down to speak to a man who looked more like the dead than the living. His skin was paper white, his bones practically sticking through it. He pointed to one of his legs, shaking his head. Her father’s face filled with compassion, and he handed a small bag to the man, who took it with a puzzled frown. That frown changed to astonishment, and then to tears as he looked inside.

  Her father then hailed a hackney, helped the old man up into it and shouted instructions to the driver. The old man kept a hold of her father’s hand for as long as he could, before finally having to let it go as the hackney drove away.

  “Where did you send him, Papa?” Eleanor asked, wandering over to him. “He looked as though he were about to draw his last breath!”

  “That man is as old as I am,” her father replied, slowly. “His leg is deformed and no one cares enough to help him. I have sent him to my friend’s house, with enough money to support himself for some time.”

  “You have a friend in Arwenack Castle?” Eleanor asked, confused.

  Her father laughed, pulling his hood up again. “I have many friends throughout England,” he replied. “They know of my desire to help those less fortunate. So long as the people I send have the funds to care for themselves, they will not be turned away.”

  Eleanor shook her head. “You are the most generous man, Papa.” In truth, her father’s kindness surprised her, making her appreciate him all the more. She knew the rumors about pirates, how they were meant to burn and pillage — and to be fair, there were many who filled the stereotype — but her father was not that kind of man. He shared his wealth, giving it to those who needed it the most and, more than likely, saved them from squalor and ultimately, death. The qualities her father displayed were those she wanted to emulate. Even though she was now a woman in her own right, Eleanor still considered that her father had a great deal to teach her.

  A sudden gust of wind blew a piece of parchment drifting along the road in her direction. Picking it up, she frowned heavily and passed it to her father. "The Navy is still seeking pirates." There was nothing specific about Captain Adams or the Gunsway, but still, it reminded Eleanor that they were on land and not out on the waters in safety.

  “Harrington will not stop until he has caught me,” her father replied mildly, taking the parchment from her and throwing it away. “You need not concern yourself with him though, Eleanor. He is a man easy enough to predict.”

  Eleanor snorted with laughter. That was more than true. Those who worked for the British Navy were all of the same ilk and had all had the same training. Their moves were predictable, their boats easy to spot on the horizon. They didn't have the same command of their ships the way her father – and other pirates – did. The sea didn't even respond to them in the same way. It hadn't been too difficult to evade capture, although there had been one or two close calls with Harrington. It was the closest the Navy had ever come to Captain Adams, and as flippant as her father was about it, it worried Eleanor.

  “One more, and then we can return to the boat,” her father smiled, walking up a small alleyway and knocking on a door. Eleanor followed behind, looking at the old houses, wondering how much it would take for one – or all of them – to come crashing the ground. This truly was one of the poorest areas in the port.

  “Adams!”

  Eleanor walked up to her father just as he stepped inside, welcomed in by an older man with white, wispy hair and a grizzly beard. Eleanor stayed outside and listened as her father laughed with his friend, before handing over some more of his treasure. Smiling to herself, Eleanor heard the man exclaim over the gift, his voice growing hoarse with emotion.

  It wasn’t too long before her father came out again, bidding his friend farewell. Eleanor bobbed her head and smiled, suddenly aware that the man in the doorway only had one leg. Suddenly, everything became clear.

  “He was one of your crew, wasn’t he?” she asked, as they walked swiftly towards the shore.

  Her father grinned at her. “Nothing gets past you, my girl.”

  “What happened?”

  He lifted his shoulders. "Cannon fire. Ripped right through the ship and his leg. For a long time, I didn't think he would survive but he's one tough fighter. Kept going, until he was back on his feet. Well, back on his foot, I should say." Chuckling, Captain Adams shook his head. "Jones was always a faithful crew hand. He worked hard and fought hard. I swore I'd look after him, no matter what happened."

  “And now you do,” Eleanor murmured, filled with admiration. “Your loyalty to him does you credit, Papa.”

  “Jones was loyal to me, so why should I not take care of him, simply because he can no longer sail?” her father asked. “Loyalty should always be rewarded. Remember that, Eleanor.”

  Eleanor didn't reply, simply smiled and walked on in silence. Her father was an example to her in so many ways, teaching her the skills she needed to sail but also showing her what truly was of value. It wasn't the treasure, or the gold that they found, but rather developing compassion, kindness and a sense of justice as well as expecting unshaken devotion from their crew. Eleanor was sure that was why the crew stayed with her father for as long as they had. They would not find a better captain. Captain Adams treated his crew fairly, although punishment was always meted out when necessary. He paid them well, kept them from the Navy and guided the ship through the waters with ease. Eleanor hoped that one day, she might be able to mimic her father in everything.

  The small hairs on the back of her neck stood up in warning as her instincts suddenly told her that something was wrong. Her feet crunched on the sand as they reached their small rowing boat, her hand grasping the carved wood.

  “Papa,” she said, softly. “Something’s amiss.”

  He nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “I feel it too. Keep a watchful eye, Eleanor.”

  Climbing into the boat, Eleanor waited as her father pushed it into the waves before jumping in himself. They rowed hard, making sure to keep the boat quite close to the shore, just in case they would need a place to hide.

  "There!" Eleanor exclaimed, turning her head and spotting a Navy ship. Its colors were flying high in the wind, and it was clearly making its way towards the port.

  To her surprise, her father grinned at her. “They won’t find us, Eleanor. The ship is too well hidden.”

  “But the crew,” she stammered, remembering that most of their crew were probably blazing drunk in the port. “What about — ?”

  “Don’t worry,” he reassured her, smiling. “We’ll make the boat ready to sail. No one else knows where we hide the ship now, do they?”

  Eleanor shook her head. They’d been coming to the port at Arwenack Castle for almost as long as she could remember, and no one had ever found the Gunsway. Her father had discovered a deep, dark cave in the cliff face, tall enough and wide enough to hold at least three ships. They couldn’t risk taking the rowing boats to shore, and the crew wo
uld have to swim a few lengths to reach the safety of the ship once again, but Eleanor knew that they were well used to that. The jagged rocks on the shore prevented anyone from walking into the caves, and, so long as no one from the Navy spotted their small rowing boat, they would be quite safe. The only hazard was if they were found from the ocean, as then there would be nowhere to run.

  “What shall we do?” Eleanor asked, anxiously. “We cannot just sit out here.”

  “Row,” her father laughed, pulling on the oars as hard as he could. “They have not yet rounded the cliffs. Even their best spyglass will not be able to spot us from that angle. Once they reach the port, that is a different matter, so you must row hard, Eleanor.”

  She didn’t bother to reply, saving her breath. Pulling hard on the oars, Eleanor worked her muscles until there was barely any breath left in her body. Their boat soon began to cut through the water, making its way swiftly towards the Gunsway. They reached the caves just as the Navy ship reached the port.

  4

  Eleanor barely slept that night, too busy worrying about the Navy ship in the port. It was just too close for comfort. Her father, on the other hand, set Morgan and the two remaining crew the task of readying the ship to leave and then proceeded to fall fast asleep.

  Thankfully, the news that the Navy had arrived in the port had spread through Arwenack Castle almost at once, and most of their crew returned to the ship as soon as they could. There were a few stragglers of course. Eleanor knew from experience that these were the ones who had drank too much and needed to sleep off some of the effects of the liquor before even attempting to swim back to the boat. She kept an anxious watch until, finally, the last man climbed back on board, just as the first fingers of dawn appeared on the horizon.