The emissary stood in front of the Governor's desk with the Captain of the Vanity, both with faces drawn and pores opening, as he finished listening to their report.

"And this, Pirate Queen, you are certain it was the same ship that sailed after that Hollick fellow, the Bold Sea?"

"Absolutely, sir. Sailed aboard that very ship myself once." The Captain wet his lips.

"So the woman was Hollick's wife?"

"Aye, I would wager my life on that, sir . . ."

The look from the Governor said that he might just have made that wager.

The Governor walked slowly around his desk, spinning the globe that stood on one corner, and watching it rotate slowly to a halt.

"I think I have just the man for this task, stationed right here in Curacao."

"Sir?"

"Without those letters the pirates we have here wouldn't trust us for a rum drink. The man I have in mind already has a personal interest in this Pirate Queen, wife of Terry Hollick."

******

Lieutenant Phillip Downs read the note delivered by the Governor's servant and wiped the corners of his mouth. A slow smile lifted the ragged scar that crossed his nose and over his cheek. He thanked he servant and waved him out. Dinner with the Governor, eh? Downs clapped his hands and stared out his window at the vast sea beyond. Lieutenant Phillip Downs glimpsed a great step forward in his career with this invitation.

After the disastrous attack on the pirate haven in Tortuga, where his ship was blasted to pieces and he was swept into the sea, Lieutenant Downs had spent months in hospital recovering from many injuries before being assigned to a desk in the naval office on Curacao. The limp wasn't as noticeable any more, the chronic cough from his damaged lungs was manageable but the scar across his once handsome face was a constant reminder.

He left his office and went directly to his quarters, selecting and laying out a clean uniform and accessories. Yes, this dinner was a stepping stone . . . he knew it.

******

Chatham Bay, Union Island was the place Alicia chose to careen the Pirate Queen. It was secluded, accessible and provided enough fresh fruits and some fresh meat for the crew. They set about scraping the hull, removing crusty barnacles and foliage hat had attached itself to the ships planks. On the sandy beach, a fire pit was established and fresh meat roasted on spits. Those off shift, sat around and relaxed, drinking their grog rations and enjoying some solid ground to walk upon.

Alicia came ashore after seeing how the fresh varnishing was proceeding on the wood surfaces and the repair of some of the sails and rigging. Terry was helping caulk the Devil Seam, taking advantage of the fact they were in shallows. It was a difficult job at the best of times but Alicia wanted him to learn every part of the ship and its purpose. Everyone shared the work, none more or less than any other.

"Not as bad as it might have been, Skipper. The men are having a good go of it." She glanced out at the longboat beside the ship, where the men worked at scraping the hull.

"We'll take a few days, Mister Mullen, then set sail up the leeward side of the Grenadines. I'd like to find The Avenger and see what news there is from van Dught."

"Ahoy! Skipper!" Alicia and Mullen looked to see a crewman pointing down the beach to a group of men approaching their camp.

"Not soldiers," Mullen said. He stepped away and raised an arm to the men around the fire.

"No action, Mister Mullen. Let's see what they are about first. At least we know they aren't Privateers. Not without the letters we carry."

The group stopped about fifty feet way. Seven of them, all heavily armed and looking rough. The apparent leader or spokesman sauntered forward, his eyes following the actions of the men on the beach and those watching from the longboat.

"Fine looking ship, her." He chewed something from in his hand and spat in the sand.

"What's your business, mate?" Alicia shifted her hand to the haft of her cutlass.

"Like I said, hers a right taffy rig. Be needin' a ship oursells."

"What happened to yours?" Alicia saw the others spreading out slightly.

"Hoo, confiscated, she were, when they sent us to St. Catherine District."

"Jamaica! How did you get here then?"

"Prison ship from St. Catherine Parish." He smiled a rotten-toothed smile and spit again.

"You're escaped convicts."

"Yar, and fill tired of bein' on foot."

"Sorry, mate, we aren't taking on any crew." Alicia tensed as she sensed her own crew gathering closer behind her.

The convict laughed rudely and turned to his men. "Hear that, lads. The lady says they ain't takin' on crew." He laughed again and his men joined in.

"We are the crew now, Missy. Best you be steppin' aside so's you don't get hurt." He drew his cutlass and his men followed, raising a yell and charging toward Alicia and her crew.

"All hands!" Alicia drew her own cutlass and in an instant the fight began.

men stumbled and lunged in the sand, cuts appearing here and there on the combatants, trying to gain an advantage. Alicia parried a slash from the leader and countered with a wicked swing across his middle, slicing the leather strap that held his trousers. As she readied herself for another attack, she felt a blow from her side and turned in time to ward off another sword stroke but in doing so slipped and fell onto the beach.

The leader, one hand holding his trousers up roared toward her, his cutlass swinging back for a strike, stopped short as a young man leaped into his path and in three quick moves relieved the convict of his sword hand, his trouser hand and added a deadly gash to his midsection. The convict collapsed without a sound, face buried in the bloodied sand.

"Terry!"

"Mother." He held out his hand and hauled her up then turned to the remains of the battle, realizing all was under control. Two of the convicts were stumbling back down the beach from whence they came, the rest lay dead or dying on the sand. Two of the Queen crew were also wounded and being tended by the others.

Alicia gathered herself, glanced at the corpse by her feet and followed her son.

"Bagget and Howitt have some nasty cuts but we can get them sewn back together on board." Mullen looked at Terry and then at Alicia. "Think Mister Cafferty deserves an extra tot of grog?"

"Indeed. And I need to have a talk with my knight in shining armour."

Terry looked down as he cleaned his blade on the sand, a nervous smile dancing at the corner of his mouth.

"Have the crew back to the ship, Mister Mullen. We'll pass the night here and set sail at first light."