V: Revelations

‘Dear god’, Laurence exclaimed. The girl looked awful: clothes torn, a cut above her right eyebrow, dried blood mixed with dirt covering her face. But then she smiled, and ran up to him, and shamelessly put her arms around him in a tight embrace.
For the moment, he let her. Still in shock, he patted her gently on the back; with the weight of her loss still heavy on his heart, he was not able to adept to her sudden save return so quickly.
He gazed at Elleanora, who had put her arm around Flint. ‘Told you it would be good’, she said to the boy, smiling; he shrugged indifferently and pretended not to care.
‘Good thing I knew where Nathaniel Davis was selling his slaves’, Elleanora explained before Laurence could ask.
‘I thought you would hand back the gold’, he said, still pretty out of it.
For a second Elleanora looked at him in surprise, then she started to laugh. ‘Why in the world would I do a thing like that?’ she asked, as if it was the biggest joke she had heard in a long time.
‘Come on, Flint. Let’s go’, she said, still smiling, and started to walk downhill.
‘Wait!’ Laurence said. ‘You are leaving? Just like that?’
‘Yes.’ She looked at him as if she did not understand his surprise. He looked from her to Emily Roland; the girl looked up to him teary faced but happy.
‘Thank you’, he then simply said, not being able to think of anything other to say than the truth.
‘You’re welcome’, she replied kindly, and then, with that wicked smile of hers on her face, brought her fingers to her forehead in a salute. ‘Bye Emily’, she added to the little girl. ‘Take care now.’
‘Bye, Elly. Bye Flint’, the girl said innocently, still holding on to Laurence as if her life depended on it.
Elleanora smiled one last time, and turned around. And as she did, the gun went off.
The bullet hit Flint just below his left knee and the boy collapsed at once. Within a fraction of a second she had positioned herself in front him and pulled out her own weapon, pointing it at Laurence.
Her hesitation caused by disbelieve saved his life, for she did not immediately fire; when she found his face to be a mirrored image of her own shock – his pistol still neatly hanging from his belt – she pointed her weapon at the lighthouse behind him. Out of the shadows muffled voices reached them.
The seconds that followed seemed to go by very slowly. As Laurence turned around to follow her glance, he saw a glimpse of dark blue inside the lighthouse.
Navy blue.
And without any doubt he knew what was going on. He turned back to Elleanora, and the word slipped out before he could stop himself.
‘Run.’
And from very slow, everything turned to very fast.
Elleanora grabbed Flint’s arm and pulled him on his feet; the boy cried out in pain, but she ignored it and started dragging him down the path that led downhill.
Another shot was fired and this time missed, at which point it became impossible for the shooters to get a good aim. One by one the marines poured out of the lighthouse and started the pursuit.
‘Get them alive’, Riley yelled after his men. ‘We need them to lead us to the gold!’
‘You…’, Laurence managed to get out, teeth clutched with anger.
‘Laurence, pray forgive me…’, Riley started, but Laurence had already heard enough; he turned around and started running towards the path.
‘Captain!’ Emily shrieked behind him.
‘Stay with Captain Riley’, Laurence ordered over his shoulder. He reached the path and could just see Elleanora dragging Flint out of sight, into the jungle next to the path halfway down the hill.
Laurence ran on and reached the marines as their commanding officer sent a few of his men after them. ‘Aim at their arms and legs’, the officer reminded them. ‘We need them alive.’
As Laurence wanted to follow the men into the jungle, the officer held him back. ‘Not you, sir. She is armed.’ Laurence looked at him angrily. ‘My orders were clear, sir. Please step back’, the man repeated sternly.
And so he did. For a few minutes there was only the wind through the trees, the yells of the marines in the forest. Then a tall chap next to Laurence yelled:
‘Sir! Over there!’
And at the bottom of the hill Elleanora Black appeared on the path again, running for her life. She reached a junction; the path to the left led to the ocean below, the path to the right led uphill again, to the cliffs on the south side of the islet. She turned right.
‘Where is the boy?’ someone asked, but the officer yelled back:
‘Forget about the boy: get her!’
And the pursuit was on again. Down the hill, to the right, climbing up the path. They lost her for a second, but then she appeared in sight again, still running uphill. Laurence was panting by now and so were the men, but it did not seem to matter: they were gaining in on her anyway. Then the foliage around them disappeared and Elleanora stopped abruptly, her boots scratching over rough rocks and blowing up grit as she came to a halt.
It was the end of the path. And the top of the cliffs.
‘It’s over, Black!’, the leading officer yelled as the men cut off her way and aimed their rifles and guns. ‘Drop your weapons!’
For a moment Elleanora looked as if she would rather take down as much of them as possible; she clutched to her pistol with one hand and held her drawn sword tightly in the other. Then she saw Laurence standing amongst them.
‘Drop your weapons!’ the officer repeated harshly, but still she stood motionless. ‘All right, shoot her in the leg’, he ordered, annoyed.
‘No!’ Laurence yelled. ‘Stop this madness!’ Everyone looked at him. ‘Elleanora,’ he pleaded, ‘just drop your weapons. It is over.’
She looked at him in frustration, breathing heavily. Then Riley joined them, followed closely by an out of breath Emily.
‘What are you doing?!’ he yelled to his officer, conveniently ignoring her weapons. ‘Grab her!’
The look on Elleanora’s face hardened and she took a step back; small rocks fell down the cliff, disappearing into the relentless sea below. Her face was filled with hate and anger, and Laurence realised she would rather end her own life than to let it be taken from her.
Elleanora closed her eyes and took a deep breath, ready to part from life, when Emily Roland yelled:
‘Elly! No!’
A silence followed. A silence in which everyone seemed to be taken aback by the panicked voice of the little girl blowing away on the strong southern wind.
Elleanora Black opened her eyes and looked at Emily, still holding on to her weapons but defenceless nonetheless. For on her face Laurence saw the expression of someone who had just given up.
The blow struck her on the cheek and many arms grabbed her, pushing her down on the ground. They turned her around, face down in the dirt, and bound her arms behind her back.
She didn’t even struggle.

***

‘To say that I am disappointed would be the understatement of the century.’
Admiral Powys sat up straight behind his desk and eyed him furiously. ‘You have already brought shame on the Corps once this month, why try so hard to add another matter to that list?
Despite Laurence’s feelings of guilt, he knew this was not fair. ‘I beg your pardon, sir, but I only did what I thought was best.’
‘Yes, well,’ Powys continued agitatedly, ‘that is what captain Riley said as well. Thank God he felt it was his duty to interfere; if it wasn’t for him that she-thief would still be on the run.’ He tapped his fingers on the desk. ‘He also informed me you were convinced she would hand back the gold, although I do not quite see why a lowlife criminal like her would ever do such a thing. It was a naïve hope you held there, captain, but I suppose it was held with the best intentions’, he said as he seemed to calm down. ‘Too bad His Majesty’s gold appears to be lost forever anyhow.’
‘Yes, sir’, Laurence replied, remembering the events of the previous day. After they had captured Elleanora, a search had been organized for the boy Flint. But apart from a trail of blood leading down the path to an empty docking side, there was no trace of him whatsoever. It was only when Elleanora had started laughing they had realised she had planned everything; the chase to the cliffs had been nothing but a diversion.
She probably had hoped to escape and meet with her crew later on, but eventually she had been forced to sacrifice herself for them; they would be off celebrating their new stolen riches and she was presently interrogated aboard the Resistance.
‘I hope you have learned from this experience, captain Laurence’, Powys said as he got up and walked over to the window, looking out over the vastly expending sea; in the distance they could just make out the ever fading island of Gorda. ‘Next time you will inform your superiors about matters like these, is that clear?’
Laurence had to take a deep breath before he answered; he did not like to be treated as a child after his many years in the Navy and Corps. ‘Yes, sir. It is’, he replied eventually.
‘Good’, Powys said as he put his hands on his big, fat belly, stroking it contently. ‘Now be so kind as to get our prisoner to my quarters. She might not say a word to the men interrogating her, but she might say a word or two to me.’

‘For the hundredth time: where is the damned gold?’, a big man named Trapp asked her angrily. He stood before her red-faced; she was sitting calmly in a chair. If it wasn’t for the fresh bruises on her face and the chains that tied her to the armrests, she would have looked as if she was awaiting dinner.
They had taken her to a space below decks which was only lit by a lantern hanging from the ceiling. The Resistance rocked steadily as it sailed north to their destination of Bermuda, the light of the lantern casting vast shadows on the walls as it swayed back and forth.
‘You better start speaking…’ Trapp threatened, grabbing her by the hair and pulling back her head.
‘That will be enough, mister Trapp’, Laurence said as he entered the room. Trapp looked at him annoyed, but let go of Elleanora’s hair. ‘She is to meet the admiral’, Laurence said firmly. ‘It would be nice if she got there in one piece.’
Trapp stared at him for a moment; he was one of Powys’s men and seemed not sure if he should listen to Laurence. Then he reluctantly tied Elleanora’s hands in front of her and let Laurence guide her out of the room.
He was shocked at her appearance; even though she seemed calm, she also looked very tired. She wore fresh bruises on her cheeks, and her lip was swollen. As they walked, Laurence noticed she was limping slightly.
‘Oh, pray do not worry, Laurence’, she said as she saw the worried look on his face. ‘It’s nothing. I’ll be all right.’ And even now she managed to smile.
When they stepped onto the deck, Elleanora closed her eyes to shield them against the bright sun. Only when she was able to open them, she saw the stern faces of the crew looking down on her.
‘A pirate amongst two hundred seamen; not a very good plan’, she said dryly. ‘Surprises me Riley isn’t here to spit me in the face.’ She looked at Laurence for information.
‘He stayed behind at Gorda’, he explained as they made their way across the deck. Behind them Temeraire was vast asleep; Laurence thanked the skies for the warm midday sun that made him doze off so easily. He did not know how the dragon would react to the person who had kidnapped his captain.
‘Was that his reward for capturing me?’ Elleanora asked in surprise. ‘I thought I would be worth more than that…’
‘He is to stay there until the Allegiance is seaworthy again’, Laurence said. The ship Nathaniel Davis ruined when you left us behind, he almost added. But then he remembered he was walking alongside a woman who would most likely be sentenced to death within a week, and he swallowed his words.
‘You know,’ she started carefully as she tried to catch his gaze; he was doing his best to avoid hers, ‘I honestly did not know about Nathaniel. But it was my fault…’
He looked at her in surprise.
‘Apparently one of my men had secretly made a deal with him’, she explained. ‘It was their plan to take the gold as well as the egg. Thankfully they failed. The traitor was dealt with as soon as we found out, of course.’ She looked a bit grimly at this recollection, which made Laurence wonder what on earth they had done to the poor fellow; he decided he was probably better off not knowing.
Laurence halted a little ways before the door that would lead to Powys’s quarters and gazed over the deck indecisively.
‘Ask me’, she simply said.
‘Why the hell did you come back?’ He sounded much angrier than he had intended. ‘You could have just left her in the nearest harbour.’
‘The girl had just gone through hell, Laurence’, she said as if that explained it all. ‘I could not find it in my heart to just dump her somewhere. But it does not matter now’, she added. ‘Knowing my men are save and well, and rich: that is all I need right now. No regrets.’
Laurence looked her in the eyes and could not help but admire her courage; she was a relentless criminal who had put him to shame more than once, but she had been an honourable opponent in some strange way. He nodded in understanding, and led her into Powys’s quarters.
The admiral stood with his back towards them and was still staring out across the ocean, as if he had not moved at all since Laurence had left him.
‘Sir’, Laurence said as the door was closed behind him by one of the guards stationed outside. ‘I present captain Elleanora Black, of the pirate vessel the Goliath.’ He looked at Elleanora; she smiled thankfully at his formal and respectful introduction.
‘The last time I saw you,’ admiral Powys started and Elleanora’s smile faded away as if someone she loved had just slapped her in the face, ‘you were merely a child.’
Powys turned around. All the colour in Elleanora’s face was drained as he looked at her and said: ‘You look like your mother.’
She stormed towards him; it was only luck Laurence reacted fast enough to grab her waist and pull her back. She tried to get him to let go, screaming, kicking and hitting him in the process, but he held on long enough for the two guards to come in and throw themselves on top of her.
They managed to haul her on her feet after a brief struggle, standing on either side of her, holding her arms in a tight grip.
Laurence stepped back and rubbed his jaw where she had struck him. He looked at her: she was breathing heavily and was looking at Powys in an almost barbaric way, eyes wide with pure rage.
Powys in his turn had turned pale and swallowed nervously. After a moment he however gathered himself and straightened his back as he took a step forward. Immediately Elleanora started struggling again; the two men could only barely contain her.
‘For God’s sake!’, Powys exclaimed in horror. ‘Calm down, child!’
And she stopped struggling. For a moment Laurence thought she had indeed calmed down, but then he saw the look on her face. Still panting, she looked at Powys with such an intense hatred it startled him; he barely recognized her.
‘Do not call me that’, she hissed hoarsely trough her teeth. When Powys again opened his mouth to speak, she screamed hysterically: ‘DO NOT CALL ME THAT!’ and started struggling again. ‘You do not have the right!’, she screamed at the top of her lungs as they pushed her on the ground once more in order to control her. ‘You killed her! You just killed her as if she meant nothing!’
Powys looked down on her, unable to speak. ‘You killed her even though you knew she was innocent, you pig!’ Elleanora cried; tears she was not able to contain were running down her face. ‘You should have fought for her! You should have fought for the both of us!’
Only sobs came out now; she hung in the arms of the men who held her down, too exhausted to fight. She was hauled up again, but barely had the strength to carry her own weight.
Then her face hardened and she gathered herself. She looked up at Powys, swallowing her tears, and very clearly said: ‘I hope you will burn in hell, you bastard.’
The admiral’s expression changed, as if a cold mask was brought down upon it. He came forward with a held back fury in his eyes, like a fat lion approaching its pray, and got his face very close to hers.
This time, she didn’t move a muscle.
‘The only bastard in this room,’ Powys said slowly as he looked her straight in the eyes, ‘is you.’
She blinked. Once. Twice. Then she spit him in the face with such passion it seemed she already knew it would be one of the last things she would do on this earth.
Powys took a step back and very calmly got a white, silk handkerchief out of his pocket. As dignified as he could, he cleaned his face.
‘You are just like your mother indeed, Elleanora Grey’, he said sardonically. ‘And now you shall die like her too. Bring her to her cell’, he added harshly to the guards. ‘She will be hanged at nine bells tomorrow.’