Both Anne and Coyle shook their heads. “I don’t think so,” Anne said. “They followed us for several days. If they’d been sent to escort the Deliverance, why did they keep their distance from us?”
“Anne’s right. They didn’t want to show their colors, which is why they didn’t approach the Providence.”
“Why didn’t they have an escort when they left England?” Cara asked.
Alastair gave a short laugh. “I heard the owner thought it would be a sign of weakness if he sent it off with an escort. It’s a foolish gamble to take with other’s lives.”
Richard Drummond’s reputation has clearly reached the West Indies, thought Anne.
Coyle turned to his uncle. “Is there someone we can notify? Someone who might be able to offer some assistance?”
“Aye. We’ll send word to Governor Webb. He’ll know best what kind of help, if any, can be provided.”
Anne’s stomach dropped to her feet. It had been two days since they last saw the Deliverance. She hoped it wasn’t too late to help the survivors. If there were any.
“Will he listen to you?” Coyle asked.
“Aye, he will. I know Governor Webb personally.”
Both Cara’s and Coyle’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’ve come a long way from Donegal,” Cara said.
“I told your da I’d make something of myself.” There was no conceit in Alastair’s voice. It was simply a statement of fact.
“Could we send word to the governor now?” Anne asked, desperate to act. Although she didn’t know for sure if Teach was on the Deliverance or not, there was a part of her that seemed to sense his presence. Or perhaps it was only her wishful thinking.
“I’ll go myself. Coyle, you come with me. Cara, Anne, you stay here with Beth and let her show you to your rooms.”
“Beth?” Cara asked.
The barkeep had mentioned Beth when they first entered.
A tender smile crossed Alastair’s face. “Aye. Beth. She’ll be pleased you’re finally here.” Striding to the swinging door, Alastair motioned with his hand for the others to follow him.
The big and well-equipped kitchen held a fireplace, and shelves filled with brass pots and pans. Garlic, drying peppers, as well as herbs and spices hung from the ceiling over wooden cupboards. A petite woman with mahogany skin stood beside a narrow table, instructing two girls as they chopped carrots and onions.
“Beth, let me introduce my niece and nephew, Cara and Coyle Flynn. And this is their friend, Anne Barrett. Coyle, Cara, Anne, this is Beth Morris.”
Beth smiled, her face lighting up as she greeted them. Alastair placed a kiss on Beth’s cheek. “I’m off to visit Webb on some business. Will you show the girls where they’ll be staying?”
“Of course. Is anything wrong?” Beth’s soft and melodic accent drifted into Anne’s ears. It reminded Anne of her mother’s, the way Beth ran her words together, and her use of soft vowels.
Cara and Coyle watched their uncle with interest. Anne, too, noticed the affection between Alastair and Beth. Although Anne’s parents had not been as demonstrative, she could not help thinking of them. Anne warmed to the pair immediately.
“A merchant ship might have been attacked. We’re going to see if anything can be done to help. Is Benjamin outside?”
“I believe so,” Beth replied.
Alastair led them to a crescent-shaped courtyard between the tavern and a single-storied house. A vegetable garden lined one side of a large wooden barn on the other side of the enclosure. Shutters and flower boxes decorated the structures. “Benjamin, come meet our guests,” Alastair called.
A tall, broad-shouldered young man came out of the barn, his brown eyes steady as he shook Alastair’s hand. Benjamin’s skin was a shade darker than Beth’s, and Alastair greeted him in a foreign tongue Anne didn’t recognize. Benjamin wore breeches and a brown shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Thick, raised scars covered his hands and arms, evidence of a whipping. Anne’s breath hitched in her throat, and she felt an intense flash of fury at the unknown person who had performed such a barbarous act.
Alastair nodded to Benjamin after making the introductions. “I’m taking my nephew to meet with the governor. Please keep an eye on things for me.”
“Yes, sir,” Benjamin said, his English heavily accented.
The three men turned toward the tavern, but Anne couldn’t stop staring at Benjamin’s scars. “Who did that?” she breathed, unaware she’d spoken the words aloud.
Beth gave Anne an understanding nod. “His former master. Benjamin works for Alastair now. He’s free to come and go as he chooses, just like anyone else in Alastair’s employ.”
Anne bit her lip, grateful Benjamin hadn’t heard her. It was one thing to hear about the horrors of slavery, but quite another to actually witness the effects of the barbaric institution.
“You must be very tired after your trip,” Beth said, breaking the stilted silence. She led the girls through the front door of the house and down a short hallway. “I’ll bring you a tray of food.”
“Thank you, but I’m not very hungry,” Anne said. Between the scene at the docks and the unknown fate of the Deliverance, she doubted she’d be able to rest. Or eat.
“Have you known my uncle long?” Cara asked as Beth guided the girls into a room with a large bed and dresser. Thin lines of light trickled through the shuttered window.
“For nine years.”
Curiosity rang in Cara’s voice. “Are you in charge of the kitchen?”
Beth gave Cara a knowing smile. “I help your uncle with The Laughing Fox” was all she said.
Before Cara could pose another question, Anne spoke up. “How long will it take to deliver a message to the governor?”
“Not long. If Governor Webb is at home, Alastair will be allowed to see him immediately.” Pride filled Beth’s words and light shone in her eyes.
Cara let out a low whistle. “I wish my da were here to see this. When Uncle Alastair left Donegal, everyone in the family believed he’d be back within five years.”
“Your uncle is one of the most respected men on the island,” Beth said. “Governor Webb stops by the Fox at least once a week.” The warmth faded from Beth’s face and her voice turned hard. She walked to the door. “Stay here and rest. Alastair should be back before long.”
“Thank you,” Anne said, following her. “For letting me stay here.”
Beth paused and gave her a slight smile. She tucked one of Anne’s wayward tendrils behind her ear. “I’ll send for a bath. And we’ll do something about this hair. You’ll find the weather here a little more agreeable for your curls.”
Anne’s chest warmed at the motherly gesture. Beth had a calming presence about her that Anne hadn’t felt in quite a while.
The older woman left, leaving Anne and Cara to scrub their hands and faces of the dirt and grime from the Providence and Nassau’s docks.