It took Pearl and Jack only a few more minutes to reach the ship, and when they did, Pearl stood in front of the two-masted schooner, wide-eyed. “Wow.”

Jack arched an eyebrow, putting his hand against the weathered wood and creaky boards. He laughed, looking at Pearl. “What a piece of junk.”

She nodded in agreement. “It’ll never set sail,” he predicted.

Suddenly, a shrill voice cut through the drone of morning bustle. “Jack Harding!” it shrieked.

Pearl’s eyes went wide as she backed up onto the boarding plank, her newly filled pail of water swishing about her. “Uh-oh.”

A portly woman with full flushed cheeks and long, thick brown hair wobbled down the street in a purposeful march. “Jack Rupert Harding!”

“Rupert,” Peal repeated, raising an eyebrow. But before Jack could protest, strong hands clutched his ear and pulled hard.

Jack let out a yelp. “Mom!” he cried. “That hurts, let go!”

Stepping backwards, his mother gasped. “Jack Harding, just look at you! Clothes muddied and mug all dirtied.” She immediately set about licking her hand and applying it to his shirt and face.

“Mom!” Jack shouted, mortified as he looked up at Pearl. “I was just playing around, le-go!”

She started yelling something about his shoes being scuffed and then looked upward…to find Pearl standing nervously, hands and pail behind her back.

Cheeks reddening, Pearl cleared her throat. “G’day, Mrs. Harding.”

Putrid eyes glared at her through sparkling spectacles. “Jack, what did I tell you? Hm?” Though she didn’t spell it out, Pearl knew exactly what the his mother referred to and avoided the woman’s mad eyes. Another glare met her before the woman grasped onto Jack’s arm, dragging him into town with her. “You’re coming home with me this instant. What were you thinking?”

Sad eyes looked up to her as he remained latched onto his mother. “Bye, Pearl…”

Murmured rebukes still met Pearl’s ears as the two made their way into the city streets. “What have I told about hanging around with local riffraff? It’ll get you nothing but trouble.”

Her face scrunching up in disgust, Pearl glared down at Jack’s mother and too angry to cry, picked up her bucket of cleaning water and grabbed a mop from the cleaning port downstairs.

“Jerks,” Pearl muttered bitterly.

As Pearl climbed up onto the deck, she stopped in her tracks. Seaweed, dirt, grime, blood, bird droppings, and less pleasant things crusted upon the floor of the deck. Old boots, mains, sails, and fishing nets piled in every corner, and dust caked upon every venue.

The smell alone would make the captain leave his ship for better times.

Making a face, Pearl gave a sigh and applied her apron, reluctantly getting down to work until the crew arrived or the sheriff came to discharge her.

Though Pearl decided right then and there that it would be a long time before she ever thought of setting up explosives to the county courthouse, she was sure it would be even longer before she would lay eyes on Jack Harding again.

* * * * *

Furious, Lamar let the water from the wooden pail slosh all over the ground and onto the side of his slacks as he made his way to the ship.

Six more months…

That was a lifetime to Lamar. It wasn’t fair. He’d signed a contract!

Frustration and anger gripped him. Just who did they think they were, controlling his life like this? His strong, angry steps brought him to the ship in record time. Still finding it hard to believe the misfortune that had come upon him, Lamar didn’t break his pace and stomped up the steps to dock number four, too enraged to notice the extreme smell and stink around him, much less a girl of sixteen eyeing him suspiciously.

Which was probably why her very response caused him to jump high into the air.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

Lamar regained his balance and turned to the nuisance. “Look, I don’t have time to-” He came face to face with her and paused as he recognition brought him silence.

“Pearl.” He paused to put down his bucket. “The rebel on government crossing.”

Pearl spoke frankly. “Lamar. The cabin boy whose contract has been suddenly reinstated.”

Lamar gave a frustrated sigh. “Look, I don’t need the sarcasm.”

“Good. I don’t need lectures,” she returned, agitated. Pearl gave a long, loud sigh. “I’ve had enough in the past twenty-four hours to last me a lifetime.” When he continued to shine the hull, Pearl put her hands on her hips. “So I’ll repeat myself. Just what do you think you’re doing on my ship?”

Lamar gave a derogatory noise. “Your ship?” he echoed, eyeing her.

“Yeah,” she replied sharply. “My ship. You have a problem with that?”

Lamar frowned. “No. I’m just wondering if you’re going to attach explosives to this piece of government property, too.”

His remark was a low blow, and Pearl shot him a deep glare. “Well, at least I have the balls to do something about injustice when I see it instead of dropping my knickers to let them screw me again, like I see you doing.”

Mouth open in shock, Lamar looked her up and down distastefully. “I ought to wash your mouth out with dishwater,” he said, not sure which shocked him more – her innuendo or the way it flowed so naturally into her speech patterns.

Pearl shrugged, unconcerned as she hauled the large mop across the deck. “Oh, and how you were talking to me before was a perfect example of how a gentleman should speak to a lady? I was only giving you back some of your own medicine, pal, and blandly I might add.”

Lamar gave her a meaningful stare. “I know Ben raised you better than this.”

Becoming braver, she took a step forward and nearly at his height looked him dead in the eye. “You know nothing about my father, and even less about me. So how about you clam up before I push up these sleeves and show you just exactly how much of a lady I’ll never be.”

“I’ve worked with Ben for two years,” he said, trying not to give Pearl the face of shock she worked for.

“Wow,” Pearl said sarcastically as she struggled to mop up the grime beneath her feet. “Two years. You must know everything about us. Were you his confidante?”

“No,” Lamar answered quietly.

“Then two years doesn’t matter much.”

Studying her behavior, Lamar scrunched up his face. “What do you have to be so passionately angry about?”

“More than there is time to waste recounting to you,” she whispered in a strained voice. Pearl paused to heave a sigh. “Look. You’re really doing nothing but aggravate me. So why don’t you get off this ship and let me finish out my sentence here in peace?”

“Wait a minute, your sentence here?” Lamar stepped purposely in between Pearl and her mop. “I’m the one who’s going to have to spend at least six months on this rotting excuse for a ship.”

“Then why get so worked up about two hours you can spend off of it on shore while I work?” she asked rationally.

For a moment, Lamar wondered. Why did he want to spend his remaining two hours on shore on a ship? He smirked and quickly crossed his arms as memory assisted him. “Because as cabin boy, it’s my job to make sure this place looks fit for set-sail, and if it’s not, I’m going to have to hear about it from the captain, which could ruin my working relationship for the next half of the year because of the slip-shot job you’ll do,” Lamar explained collectedly. Stepping forward, he shirked the mop out of her hands. “So why don’t you both of us a favor? Go back to John and ask for a different ship. I’ve got this one covered.”

“Fine,” she shot back, taking a look at the mess there. “It’s not like I have any emotional attachment to a bunch of grime and grease covered floorboards anyway.”

“Well, good.”

“Fine.”

Pearl began to traipse away, but then stopped to turn around with a smirk. “John huh?”

“Yeah, John. It’s what his mother named him.”

“You guys are on a first name basis now?”

Lamar answered her with a short, humorless laugh. “And you’re not? What do you call him? I’ll bet my boots it’s not ‘sheriff.’”

It took a moment for Pearl to answer as she stared in shock at an all too familiar face striding onto the pier. “Peterson Rinaldi…” she whispered, feeling her mouth go dry.

Lamar only half heard her as he began to organize the nets. “Why would anyone call him that?”

Taking action, Pearl ran up to Lamar and grabbed his arm. “We have to get off this ship,” she ordered urgently.

Confused, he shirked away. “Pearl, cut it out.”

“I’m not fooling around. It’s Peterson Rinaldi,” she whispered, tugging him along despite his resistance. “He’s a wanted man. A pirate. And he’s heading this way.”

Immediately, Lamar seemed to go stiff and let the mop fall to the ground. “Where?”

“There,” she whispered furiously, pointing down at him from the deck. “Right there. We have to get out of here.”

Lamar’s eyes went wide and his composure became prepared for flight or fight. “What’s he doing walking around in broad daylight?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t we sit here and speculate?” Angrily, Pearl gave him a hard shove in the arm in the direction of the nearest exit. “He’s got dangerous written all over him. We have to get out of here and tell John.”

Lamar couldn’t help smirking a little. “John, huh?” Receiving a sneer from her, he cleared his throat and hurried with her down to the gangplank. “How can you be so sure it’s him?”

For the moment, Pearl was uninterested of giving a rendition of her meeting with him after her courthouse festivities. “Haven’t you seen the posters? They’re all over town.”

Lamar squinted to get a better look at the man, and then realized that the expression of the man coming closer and closer toward them was an exact replication of the posters in the marketplace. “You’re right. I do recognize him,” he said decisively. “We better get John.”

* * * * *

The rough quartet strode down the length of the harbor in broad daylight, ignoring the stares of the townspeople and the whispered voices behind their backs.

“A ballsy move, my friend,” Murphey muttered to Peterson as they strode through the streets of town without hesitation or disguise. “Stupid, but ballsy.”

“Agreed,” Noah commented.

“Yeah, Captain, I’m feelin’ a little exposed out here,” Ronan said, flipping back his silky black hair.

Murph looked down with a snort before murmuring to the boy. “Might want to button up your pants there, mate.”

Blushing deeply, Ronan zipped up his pants, and when he received a shocked look from a passing milkmaid, tipped his hat ever so chivalrously. “Ma’am.”

“We won’t make it to the gangplank without a bullet in our backs,” Murphey muttered all the more urgently to Peterson.

Pete chuckled as he walked slightly faster in order to reach the ship before the wrong people noticed what his intended business there was. “Didn’t you say you always wanted to die a celebrity?”

“Yeah. Only not this kind of celebrity, and certainly not this kind of death,” Murphey muttered, finally beginning to sober after their long morning of drinking. “This is the last time I drink and let you make our traveling plans, I swear to it.”

“Just a few more feet, Murph,” Pete reassured him. “We’ll be ocean bound, and this two acre shipping town’ll have the legend of their lives to repeat over a good cup of mead from now ‘til eternity.”

“Good, because my ulcer’s gonna explode, and I’m gonna die right here on the dock,” Murphey muttered, letting out a breath of air while holding his fist to his heart.

Peterson shrugged, patting him on the back. “Brave Murphey McClodmick. Died from one too many beef ribs.”

“I’ll be the patron saint of fat men with intestinal problems everywhere,” Murphey said with a tight grin.

“The captain held us his hand as Duke’s crew, nine strapping men all toting provisions, came into sight. “But on a more serious note, this’ll do us wonders for our public relations. Next time we’re apprehended we’ll have more diehard fans waiting our autograph than lawmen waiting to see us swing from ye olde oak tree. And that’s where numbers count. You wait and see.”

Noah smirked as he lowered his voice. “And speaking of public relations…”

“Peterson,” Duke acknowledged as he appeared within the center of his men as they gathered in front of the gangplank, Peterson’s group to the left and his to the right.

“What’s all this?” the captain asked as his men brought barrel upon barrel to the front of the gangplank. “We came prepared.” Behind them, Noah dragged only two containers of dried meat and fresh water.

“Call it a peace offering,” Duke said, crossing his arms as his men rolled each bundle upon board. “We started off on the wrong leg last evening, and it is my belief that we should at least start out brothers for the set-sail if nothing else.”

Despite the proposal, Peterson’s face remained set in a deadpan, emotionless expression, causing Duke to shift uncomfortably. However, all too soon a small grin creased across his stubbled mug. “Aye, you’re right. Put ‘er, there, mate.”

Smiling, the two made their peace for the moment, and Peterson gave a long sigh but it was followed by a smile.

“Snake in the grass,” Murph muttered in a sing-songy voice.

“Mm, king cobra in the jungle vines. But that can’t stop us from cooperating with him to get back to the island.” Peterson’s voice became soft and serious. “We couldn’t do it without him, you know.”

“I know,” Murph said reluctantly. “That’s what worries me.”

As the rest of his crew stomped up the gangplank, Peterson took a huge breath before staring out into the busy bustle of the harbor.

For today, all differences would be aside. The air was clean. The sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, and the water glistened, begging to be sailed upon.

Despite obvious differences between himself and Duke, one thing was for certain. The cast off today would be next to flawless.

* * * * *

No sooner had Lamar and Pearl gotten halfway down the length of ship then the obvious course of the criminals became apparent. “No, no, no, he’s coming this way,” Pearl whispered fiercely, coming awkwardly to a halt.

“Just keep going,” Lamar urged, pushing her forward.

The pirate strode forward with a small crew of men behind him and came to a stop at the gangplank leading to her ship, where another even more menacing group of pirates came to meet them.

“Shit,” Pearl said under her breath.

Lamar pulled down on her arm and they both ducked down behind a pile of ropes and nets draped over barrels that must have at one time contained ale from the strong stench of alcohol mixing with that of seaweed and excrement.

“How are we going to get out of here?” she demanded, her eyes only now beginning to hold fear.

“It’s alright,” he said, moved to comfort her. “We’ll…” He struggled to think of a plan. “We’ll just wait until-”

“Until what? They all congratulate themselves over a pint in Flanery’s Pub?” Pearl whispered back.

“Well… yes,” Lamar said, watching them along with Pearl. “I mean, the ship can’t already be prepared for set sail. They’d need to bring aboard food and supplies and provisions and tools and-”

All Pearl did was point silently as the men broke apart to wheel aboard barrels of dried meats and fruits, fresh water, and drinking ale. Strapped across their backs, they carried the few possessions sea-faring men would need along with weapons in case they were asked of their whereabouts.

By this time, Lamar and Pearl had unconsciously curled themselves into the smallest positions possible, crouching behind the barrels as the men stacked them up, thankfully shielding them further.

“We can’t stay here,” Pearl whispered finally as Peterson called the men to gather on the starboard side of the ship.

Lamar looked over the side of the ship. “We could-”

“Jump?” Pearl asked incredulously. She shook her head. “We might survive, but risking our lives is not worth it for these barbarians.”

Lamar’s eyes widened as he gazed out onto the pier. “Pearl, if we could just wait-”

“No,” Pearl said definitively. “We already tried your way. We wait any longer, and we’ll be halfway across the Atlantic.”

“Pearl.” He took her chin and turned it to the direction of town. “Look.”

A hopeful, strained smile broke upon her face as she looked out into the crowds to see John Thompson leading the town’s militia force of twenty or thirty fishermen turned police deputies toward their ship.

“Of course,” Pearl said happily. “Of course.” They couldn’t have been the only ones to recognize Peterson Rinaldi as he boldly strutted his pirate self through the streets of Tripper Harbor.

“They’ll straighten this out,” Lamar said, crouching closer to her. “All we have to do is sit tight and wait for them to arrest the crew.”

The sheriff would do neither that day.

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