Laura Martin - The Pirate Hunter

He was lying on mouldy straw in a fetid cell with only a sliver of light to illuminate his surroundings. Probably for the best, he thought.

The jangle of keys came closer and Will pushed himself up into a sitting position. Every muscle in his body screamed and begged him not to move again for another few days at least.

The door to the cell opened and through his half-open eyes Will could see a large figure standing in the doorway.

‘William Greenacre, what on earth happened to you?’

Will’s eyes opened fully and peered into the gloom. He recognised the voice, but couldn’t quite place the owner.

‘We thought you were dead.’

‘So did I,’ Will murmured.

The figure in the doorway strode into the cell and clapped Will on the shoulder.

‘Edward Thatcher,’ Will said. ‘It’s been years.’

‘Last time I saw you must have been at your old man’s funeral. Good fellow, sorely missed. That must have been what, seven years ago?’

‘Eight.’

‘Let’s get you out of this hellhole...’ Thatcher held out his hand to pull Will up ‘...then you can tell me how you managed to survive that awful storm.’

‘There was a woman...’ Will started.

‘Don’t you worry about her, old chap, we’ve got her safe. Let’s get you cleaned up and then I’ll fill you in on what’s been happening. The Governor is expecting you.’

‘But Mia...’

‘Good work there, Greenacre, we’ve been after her for months. You survive a shipwreck and apprehend the sister of Barbados’s most wanted in the same day.’

Barbados’s most wanted? Will screwed his eyes up, trying to concentrate. It had been a long day and he wasn’t sure he could recall exactly what had happened. He remembered the storm and the swim and the feeling of dread as he saw the cliffs towering above him. Then the vision of Mia on the clifftop, her saving him and finally the kiss on the beach.

He groaned. He’d kissed her. He owed his life to her and he’d assaulted her when all she’d been trying to do was help. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. He had been pretty delirious, but really that was no excuse.

Will squinted as they emerged from cells into the bright Caribbean light.

‘It’s only a couple minutes’ walk to the Governor’s residence. Think you’ll make it, old chap?’

The muscles in his legs felt battered and achy, but it did feel good to stretch them out. If it was truly only a couple minutes’ walk he was sure his legs would get him there.

‘What are you doing out here, Thatcher?’ Will asked as they walked.

He’d known Thatcher from school—both boys had been at boarding school together—and whilst not in the same year they’d come across one another plenty of times on the sports field or during illicit night-time missions into the nearby town.

‘Advisor to his Majesty’s Governor of Barbados.’ Thatcher said it without much enthusiasm.

‘Can I deduce it’s not a post you care for?’ Will asked quietly.

‘The Governor’s a fool. I spend most of my time trying to right the mistakes he’s made.’

They’d reached the grand Governor’s residence and Thatcher knocked on the door. It was opened immediately and they were shown inside. Thatcher was obviously well known in the residence. The footmen nodded their acknowledgement, but otherwise let him pass unimpeded from the entrance hall to the inner corridor.

‘Mr Greenacre, or is it Lord Sedlescombe?’

Will stopped and turned.

‘I offer you my sincerest apologies. My men had no idea who you were. I regret you had to spend time in one of our cells—most unfortunate for a man of your standing.’

A man in a pristine white shirt and a decorated red dress coat was coming down the corridor behind them.

‘Governor Hall,’ Will guessed out loud, ‘it is an honour to meet you.’

‘Come, come, Thatcher, get the man a drink. He’s been through hell and back.’

The Governor led the two men into a cavernous dining hall which had a table laid out with food at one end.

‘Sit, eat, drink.’

Will sat and took a long draught from the cup in front of him. He savoured the liquid, allowing the cool wine to soothe his parched throat.

‘I want to hear all about what happened,’ the Governor said.

Will shrugged, running a hand through his hair, a delaying tactic so he could push the memory of the screams of the sailors from his mind.

‘We were only a few miles offshore. The storm hit and the Captain tried to make a dash for it.’

The Governor shook his head. ‘Captain Brent was a good friend of mine.’

‘The ship went down quickly and the few sailors who did survive the initial shipwreck wanted to wait for the Navy to rescue them.’

‘We’ve sent the boats, but I doubt anyone will be left now.’

‘I swam for shore and I’d just about given up when a woman dived in and saved me.’

‘Ah, yes, the infamous Mia Del Torres.’ The Governor shook his head. ‘You’re lucky she didn’t slit your throat. As you know, her family are notorious throughout the Caribbean.’

Will frowned. That didn’t sound right. The woman who’d rescued him was kind and caring and willing to risk her own life for a complete stranger. Not a notorious criminal. And the surname—surely it had to be a coincidence. The woman who’d saved his life couldn’t possibly be related to the man he’d come to the Caribbean to hunt.

‘What happened next?’ the Governor asked.

‘I can’t really remember any more,’ Will said, pushing the very clear memories of kissing Mia’s soft lips from his mind.

‘It’s a tragedy, a real tragedy,’ the Governor said, ‘but at least you’ve survived. We’ve been awaiting your arrival eagerly these past few weeks.’

Will sensed the change of tone of the conversation; they were getting down to business.

‘We will give you whatever help you need to succeed,’ the Governor promised, and looked enquiringly at Will.

‘I’ll need a ship, full crew and someone with good local knowledge to assist me, preferably someone with first-hand experience of dealing with these pirates,’ he said.

The Governor smiled. ‘We can do better than that.’ He motioned to Thatcher, who disappeared out of the room. Will wondered what they were going to come up with.

‘We’ve had reasonable success in dealing with most of the privateers and pirates in the waters around the Caribbean,’ the Governor explained, ‘but there are pockets left. Pockets we can’t seem to find.’ He tapped his fingers on the table in irritation. ‘They seem to go to ground whenever we get close. Someone is sheltering them, must be.’

‘Sounds a likely theory,’ Will said. ‘In my experience a little local support goes a long way.’

‘Quite. But it will not be tolerated any longer. I have vowed to clear these waters of pirates and I do not intend to break my vow.’

‘Of course not, sir. And whilst the Navy is brilliant in beating the pirates when it comes to an out-and-out fight, often the pirates fight dirty.’

‘That’s why we brought you in. You come highly recommended.’

Will took another sip of wine and grimaced. ‘Sometimes you need someone who doesn’t mind getting their hands dirty for the greater good.’

And he didn’t. He hated pirates. They were greedy, cowardly, arrogant fools. Fools who had killed his brother. Governor Hall wasn’t the only one who wanted the Caribbean to be free from the plague of pirates. Will had worked for two long years to build his reputation so he would be deemed a suitable man to entrust with hunting Captain Del Torres and his crew.

‘Ah, here’s the local knowledge,’ the Governor said.

Thatcher re-entered the room, pulling a struggling woman behind him. In an instant he saw it was Mia.