A/N Having totally screwed up the chapter sequences, I reorganized them once again and fully intend to accept keel hauling or the plank as deserved punishment.

Fall arrived in the Caribbean and Hollick, finding their activities around the central Caribbean becoming more restricted with the French and British fighting over various islands and ports, decided to sail eastward to the Windward islands. The slavers that came from Africa plied several routes in that area and he felt they might just find it lucrative. The French and English were fighting down there as well but further south in the Grenadines. Times were changing quickly in the islands. The black Haitians were smouldering and the French smelled the winds of rebellion in the offing.

Hollick figured it would be better to be away from the impending conflicts and seek new seas for practicing their trade. In September the Bright Star sailed from the haven in Tortuga, leaving several of the crew who chose to stay with their families, and rounded the top of Hispaniola and down between it and Puerto Rico into the Caribbean. Turning eastward again, they headed for Martinique at the top of the Windward islands.

Hollick sat alone in his cabin plotting courses and inventorying supplies. He sat back and suddenly his mind filled with the vision of Alicia when she first sat across from him in his cabin, and when he surrendered to his desire and kissed her. It had been three months since their escape from Port-au-Prince, three months since he embraced the smooth skin of her body on that final afternoon. He poured some wine into a glass and drank, closing his eyes for a few more moments of wistful memory.

Woodcuffe had made several sorties around the coast to no avail; Hollick did not want to engage that size ship, refitted with more and larger cannons. Besides, he actually found he liked the salty Captain a little. He had wanted to sneak into port and see Alicia but common sense and some objections from the men kept his course steady. He opened his eyes and went to set the glass down when he felt the ship buck and he went to the port hole and saw heavy skies forming.

"Mister Braggs, report please." He called as he stepped on deck.

"Just started very quickly, Skipper. Winds increasing from the east and the clouds are moving nor' west."

"Looks like foul Weather coming from Africa, Hill. Feel the sand in the air?"

"Aye. That blows ill for us out here, Skipper. That's hurricane weather."

"Change our heading to north east and make for St. Kitts or Antigua if there's time."

"Time is what we'll need, Skipper. That sky is getting heavier by the minute."

"Reef the jib, Mister Braggs and if it gets stronger prepare to heave-to."

"Beggin' your pardon, Skipper, but the men prefer to run on. We've got the lines we can trail and it keeps us heading for shelter." The waves grew and the ship began rolling uncomfortably.

"Very well, Hill. Try to avoid bare poles, okay, and stay away from any shallows. If it gets too bad you will heave-to without question."

"Aye, Skipper."

******

Alicia asked to speak with Captain Woodcuffe and the marine guard immediately passed her request on, returning moments later and escorting her to the Captains office.

"Miss Francorte, a pleasure to see you. How may I be of service?"
"I apologize for this intrusion but I can get no information from my father. He will not speak of captain Hollick at all."

"Aah, I see. At least I think I do. Woodcuffe offered her a seat and he took his own behind the desk. The painting of the British King behind him, stared down at them with an aloof austerity. "You and this Captain Hollick are a little more than kidnapper and kidnapped?"

Alicia flushed but held his eyes steadily. "Yes. And I'm asking you if there is any news of his whereabouts. I know you have gone searching for him."

"To be truthful, Miss Francorte, I would have some news if you had been inclined to reveal the location of his haven on the coast."

She looked down and twisted her fingers in her gown. "I can't, sir. I made that quite clear to father. It is why he refuses any conversation about... them."

Woodcuffe stroked his chin and plumped his lips. "I won't go into the fact that he is a criminal because I have heard your defense already. But you must appreciate my position. As a representative of the King's Navy and under the auspices of your father as Governor, I can't have favouritism in the matter. My duty is clear."

"I only ask for news, sir. I'm not begging for forgiveness."

He fiddled with the quill on his desk and leaned forward. "There was a report that a schooner was seen off the coast of Puerto Rico heading east to the Windward islands. I assume it is your pirate, even they need to survive and that's a route the slave traders take."

Her face fell. That meant he wouldn't return for months; she wouldn't see him.

"I should add, Miss Francorte, I will be watching and waiting for his return as well. Terrance Hollick has a price on his head."

"For stopping slavers?"

"For interfering with legitimate commerce. Slavery is not illegal."

The words rang in her ears as she recalled her own pompous retort to Hollick. "But the goods he pirates go to needy people throughout the islands. He only keeps what his crew and their families need."

"I don't think these needy people you refer to require the kidnapped daughter of a Governor." Woodcuffe's demeanor softened as he rose up and came around the desk. He took Alicia's hand and led her to the door.

"I'm sorry, Miss Francorte. I believe I understand your willingness to plead for Hollick, actually, I admire the loyalty, but my duty is to the King and your father, as his representative."

Alicia retrieved her hand and departed, thanking Woodcuffe for taking her audience.

******

Bright Star was floundering. The waves were washing over the bow and Hollick couldn't maintain the helm position. Members of the crew, tethered to the bollards, tried frantically to reef the mainsail so the wind wouldn't twist the ship parallel to the rising sea. Stitching gave way and the canvass began flapping loose. Sea water flooded the deck and footing was almost impossible. The decision to run on had failed and now they couldn't get the ship into position to heave-to.

Hollick bent his back into the tiller with the help of Cafferty and were barely able to hold until the sail came down. A yard arm snapped and swung down like a pendulum, sweeping two of the crew overboard. Work on the sail stopped as the men hauled on the tethers, trying to pull them back on board but they were washed under the keel and lost for good... the tethers had to be cut. A crack of lightening lit the sky and the Bright Star stood out like a ravaged skeleton. Her lines snapping loose and the spars straining dangerously against their fittings. Another huge wave lifted the ship high above the surface and in that moment of weightlessness, Hollick and Mullin managed to move the tiller and as the ship came back down it was in a perfect position to run with the wind.

They lashed it in position and scrambled to aid in the setting of the foresail and the furling of the mainsail. Each man held lines and some the canvass that had torn, hands scraped raw and eyes burning from the salt water. Drenched, aching and terrified but determined, they held their posts throughout the night, fighting each new onslaught of the storm until a slightly brightening dawn and a reduction of the fierce winds mercifully arrived. By late morning the storm had passed and the Bright Star was able to heave-to and drift with the sea. The men lay about the soaked decks, beaten and exhausted, rising only when a cry of a ship sighting was heard. They gathered at the rail and watched the Bark approach, a Jolly Roger snapping in the breeze from her mast.

"Stand by, men." Hollick called. "Let's see who they are before we get too defensive."

"Not a lot we can do anyway, Skipper." Braggs said. "Cannons are all off the blocks and some of the powder kegs have broken open. Everything is soaked and unusable."

The ship stood off a short distance and Hollick could see the boarding party gathered amidships. The cannon muzzles appeared through the firing ports.

"Ahoy, the Bright Star! State your colours or prepare to be boarded." The deep voice echoed across the water.

"I am Captain Terrance Hollick out of Tortuga. Enemy of all who trade in slavery."

"Hollick! I've heard the name."

"Who is the Captain I speak with?"

"I am Henry van Dught, scourge of all French and English plying the eastern Caribbean. This is my ship, Avenger."

"Your name is familiar as well, sir."

"What is your condition?"

"Considerable storm damage and some flooding below decks. My crew could use some food and drink before tackling the repairs. Our mess has spoiled."

"Haul in those trailing lines and drop your sea anchor, Captain, I'll send a boat for your men."

******

"You know you were very lucky to have survived that storm, that's quite a ship you have there."

"It was the crew, Captain. To a man they manned their positions. We lost two, swept over by a broken yard arm."

The Avenger Captain took small medallion from his cabin desk and handed it to Hollick. Show this in port at St. Kitts, you'll get whatever aid you need for full repairs and supplies."

"That's very generous, Captain, but you have already provided more than I can repay right now."

"I'm no friend of slavers either, but my concentration is on the two powers carving up the Caribbean. Call this my contribution to your cause. One pirate to another."

"I won't forget this debt. Thank you, sir."