A Pirate's Life for Mei

Chasing Mei

Fowler

The capital of the island of Barbados was a quaint, bustling place called Bridgetown. It was nestled into the southwest corner of the small, relatively flat island. The town itself rested on the north side of where the Constitution River widened, formed a swampy area, and then spilled itself into the Caribbean Sea, forming a small, elongated inlet just large enough to house several fishing boats.

This colonial town was large enough to support a couple of dozen streets, only the main ones done in cobblestone, with perhaps four hundred buildings, at most. But it didn't need to be a dense, urban center because most of the island's inhabitants were scattered over the many plantations and hamlets that made Barbados the premier exporter of sugar in the whole of the Caribbean. Indigo, flowers that produce a dark blue dye commonly associated with blue jeans, was another important crop.

In real-world history, tobacco had also been grown here, but that had been replaced in the virtual world with fields of flowers and vegetables that served as hot spots for pollinators like bees. It was an attempt to promote the idea of sustainable agriculture, values and practices that those working here might carry over into the real world.

Vegetables were an essential part of the prison system. The food grown in the colony did more than just sustain prisoners and give them work to do. People gain a greater appreciation for where food comes from when we're the ones slaving away at growing and harvesting it.

Bridgetown and the Constitution River were on the north side of Carlisle Bay. The Breaker, a two-masted brig with sixteen cannon, was usually anchored there. Now, however, the Breaker lay on the bottom of the ocean, and there was only the much smaller sloop, which was tied up at the pier next to Fort James, one of two little bastions guarding the entrance to the inlet, the other being Fort Willoughby.

Captain Fowler's office was located on the second floor of the stone building at the rear of Fort James, next to the barracks. On one side of the wide room, he had a view of the beautiful blue sea washing up against the artificial ramparts on which they'd arranged several cannon. The other side of the office faced a vital street, one heavily used for transporting goods to the main pier. The street was lined with large, boxy buildings, all in white or other bright colours.

The walls of the office were tastefully decorated with framed sea charts as well as two paintings, both of famous sea battles. There was a map table, a desk, a sitting area with two couches and two chairs made of wicker, and a tea table for guests. Some might have called the office spartan, but Fowler preferred it to the overly ornate spaces some people carved for themselves.

That morning, he was at peace, diligently going through some paperwork and feeling productive.

Unfortunately, Governor Harrington swept into the room with one of Fowler's male secretaries hot on his heels, the latter inquiring as to refreshments or snacks with calm dignity.

"A rum and ginger, Barnes," the impatient Governor ordered as he situated his large body on the blue satin cushions of the wicker couch.

Barnes bowed his head and glanced up at his commanding officer.

Fowler, suppressing a twinge of irritation at having to deal with the governor, gave a quick shake of his head from his desk, as expected, allowing Barnes to step away to fetch the drink. The captain didn't imbibe alcohol in the middle of the day nor on duty. The governor, however, was rarely without a glass of something or other. Fowler unhurriedly stepped away from his desk and came to join the governor, choosing a seat on the opposite couch. "How can I he—"

"That woman. Have you caught her yet?" The governor didn't even look the captain in the face when he asked.

Fowler's jaw flexed at the rude interruption. "No, sir."