Swashbuckling in the Dark

Chapter Seven

The door of Captain Worthington's quarters aboard the Executioner banged open. The man himself strolled in, shucking off his heavy coat and tossing it on the chair behind his desk. Rather than sitting down, he stood and leaned over the papers stacked neatly on the desk.

He drummed his fingers on the wood, trying to repress the migraine forming in his head. Yet again, the infernal pirate had escaped his grasp. Yet again, he had failed.

His superiors would not be happy. His men had been stationed throughout the town but he knew their chances of catching the pirates were slim. Injured though they were, the pirates would find a way to slip through his fingers.

Wearily, he sorted through the stack of papers. He frowned and threw some away, placing others in a second, neat pile.

He stopped abruptly and scrutinized one more closely. Worthington held the report in front of his eyes and read it over quickly. It was the, as of yet unsolved, murder investigation of one Duncan O'Brian. Mr. O'Brian was described as a fairly wealthy merchant who had been discovered dead in his home several months ago.

According to the locals, he'd fallen afoul of some pirates that had raided the nearby seaside town the night of O'Brian's death. The man had been stabbed and then shot in the chest in his parlour.

This type of investigation would normally be out of his purview, but as it had involved pirates, a copy had been sent to him by his superiors.

Worthington raised an inquisitive eyebrow at a scrawled side note near the bottom of the page. He could just make out the words: Mrs. O'Brian was found to be missing the night of the murder; presumed dead.

Worthington scratched his chin thoughtfully. He re-read the details recorded by the investigator of the murder, the pirate raid and the disappearance of O'Brian's wife. He wondered whether the pirates had possibly kidnapped the woman, or if she had simply fled and sought shelter elsewhere. Perhaps she was still alive?

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He jumped from his chair, grunting a quick: "Come in."

The door swung open and a young woman appeared on the threshold. Worthington relaxed and let a rare smile touch his lips.

"Marianne," he greeted her, beckoning her into the cabin.

Marianne bobbed a curtsy before moving to stand patiently on the opposite side of Worthington's desk. The captain gestured for her to speak and she raised her eyes to meet his.

"I couldn't help but wonder, sir, when we were scheduled to arrive at Port Royal," she said, tilting her head to the side.

Worthington carefully edged the murder investigation under the bottom of the stack. "We're making good time, my dear, not to worry," he replied.

It was an outright lie—his detour to chase after the filthy pirate 'Dark' had put them behind by days, if not weeks. A single whiff of news about his hated enemy's whereabouts had stirred him to take spontaneous action.

"Father," Marianne said urgently, approaching the desk. Worthington glanced at her, hoping she wouldn't see what he didn't want her to. "You haven't told me why it is we had to leave our home...it can't just be to chase after pirates."

Worthington steepled his fingers. "Sit down, Marianne," he told her, and she obeyed. Under normal circumstances, he would never bring his daughter along on official business. But this particular trip had not begun as a chase. "No, justice was not my reason for leaving London. And I must apologize, my dear, for the delay. "

"What is the reason, if I may ask, Father?"

Worthington let out a sigh and studied his young daughter's face. She resembled his late wife, her dear mother, quite a lot; sea green eyes and soft brown hair. A sweet smile. He resolved to focus on bringing his daughter safely across the ocean and less on pursuing the damned pirate. Captain Byrne could wait.