Chapter Five

.

Violet led Betsy up the freshly scrubbed hallway. She was pleased, it seemed Violet had taken control of the filthy ship situation, and she need not worry about that problem any longer.

"Violet?" She glanced up, and found him looking at her with his eyebrow quirked in question, so she forged ahead with her inquiry. "Is that our supper in the kettle on the beach?"

"Only if we can find something to throw in it," He decided to tease her and let her think for a moment or two that it was, "What about you, shall we toss you in the pot and have some cannibal stew?" He leaned over and started smacking on her neck again.

She laughed, as it tickled, and he could be so silly sometimes, she knew he was teasing her about her being dinner, but she really did want to know what the men and boys were doing on the beach.

"Seriously, Violet," She scrunched her head down to her shoulder to stop his silly antics as she giggled and swatted at him. "I cannot think it would be good to make a stew from the ocean water, and do we have anything to put in a pot for supper? We will need to eat something, sooner or later."

"Tis not your supper, lovey, though I can make no promises on what your supper will be, I can assure you Paulie knows better than to use seawater for his stew." He replied.

"I hope so, as he sure does not seem to know, salt does not replace sugar." She said a bit testily, as she was very hungry by now, she was ready to storm the galley to see what they did have to relieve her hunger. Her stomach chose that moment to growl, embarrassing her, and causing Violet to chuckle.

"I am sorry, Kitten, I should have gone and beaten that man to a pulp, imagine, serving my beauty an unpalatable meal, he should be hung by his thumbs, he should be whipped with the cat, he should...."

"Enough Violet," she said with laughter in her voice, "You shall do no such thing! However, marking the containers of salt and sugar may help your cook to keep them straight." She suggested.

"Our." Violet said simply.

"Our what?" Betsy asked.

"Our cook, not mine. All you see around you, Kitten, is now ours. Our ship, our men, our boys and our cook! When you married me," He grinned at her, "You got the whole package, good and bad."

She allowed a possessive smile to grace her face, "So, tis my galley, too?" She asked hopefully, as she would like to go see if there were any provisions for her rolling stomach.

His face grew extremely serious and theatrical. "Believe me Kitten, when I tell you, that you do not want to go there. There is a troll, a mean ogre who dwells there, and I would not have you learn his language." Violet laughed at the thought of Betsy catching an earful of Paulie.

"But I am hungry, Violet." She said so forlornly, he had to take pity on her.

"Tis your own ears, lovey, I can only make a suggestion, you however, can chose to believe me, or not. You want an introduction to the galley, I shall oblige." He turned around and led her back to another hallway leading off of the one they traveled. This hallway gleamed with freshly scrubbed wood also, Violet found himself feeling better and better with every inch of gleaming wood they traversed. At least now he did not have to worry about her running to a barrel to escape the filth and vermin anymore.

Luckily for them, Paulie was nowhere to be seen, or heard. Josh was leading the galley crew in the clean up, and it had been a peaceful time, as Paulie had retired to nap away his headache.

Josh looked up as Violet and Betsy entered the room. "Captain, Miss, I would like to apologize for the scones, I had no idea when I brought them...."

"Not your fault, Josh." Violet reassured the man with a sympathetic smile. "However, the Miss would like something else, if there is anything to be had."

"I felt so bad about the last ones, I made a fresh batch. Would ye be willing to try one of my scones, Miss?" Josh lifted a napkin from a plate bearing golden, steaming scones.

"I would be willing to try anything that smells that heavenly." Betsy assured him, as she took deep breaths of the baking aroma, which set her stomach to growling again.

She ducked her head in embarrassment as Violet laughed and picked up a napkin. "We will just take a few with us Josh, as we are going to check on Brutus, and then make our way to shore."

Josh took the napkin from Vi and laid it on the table, he handed Betsy a scone, wherein she nodded her thanks, then he proceeded to fill the linen with a few more scones, some salted pork and a wedge of cheese.

"Much thanks Josh, and for the galley too, 'tis looking much better than when I was here last." Vi gave praise, where praise was due. "Commence gentlemen, and we shall get out of your way."

Violet tied the ends of the linen to make a sack of sorts, then taking Betsy's free hand, he lead her topside. They wove their way around the cargo stacked on deck to look for his first mate.

Brutus was emptying crates, one by one, marking down in a ledger what they contained.

Bart and Michaels were going behind him, repacking the crates, making sure they contained no vermin. Once done with that, they carried the inventory back to the cargo hold which had been scrubbed down also.

Violet approached his first mate, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder, he squeezed it lightly, "What have you found, Brutus?"

Brutus turned from his ledger, smiling at the newly wedded couple, he welcomed the interruption. "I found we have done well for ourselves, Captain," Brutus' smile grew wider. " I have a thrice of crates bearing fine, Spanish wines, two crates containing cured leather pelts," At this, he and Vi exchanged smiles. They knew the leather would be given to Katherine and they would soon own new clothing. Some would be traded to the boot maker for new boots, and any left over after their own needs were met, Katherine would also use. She had a small business making saddlebags and men's coin purses. She did quite well for herself as she had come to be known for her fine craftsmanship. The two men knew the supplies would make her happy, and they were glad of the chance to supply her needs, as they both loved her and enjoyed bringing her gifts. Brutus had spent many an evening at Katherine's cottage as a youth, both he and Vi asking her advice about wooing the local maids, or helping her with her craft as she worked by lantern light. "Another four hold Spanish saddles. That is as far as we have counted so far."

"Excellent, Katherine will be pleased with her share and there will be profits to be had amongst the rest. Good, we have done well for ourselves, if you still have all these to count." Violet responded happily, as he took stock of the eight or nine crates still waiting to be counted. "Proceed with your findings Brutus, I am going ashore to locate a freshwater source and gather some fruit for my lady."

"Aye aye, Captain, all will be put to rights soon. I will have some men scrub out the water barrels and get them ready to fill." Brutus turned back to his ledger and the next crate he intended to open.

As the men discussed the cargo, Betsy watched Sam on the beach as he added more water to the kettle. She wondered what the kettle contained other than saltwater. She ate her scone, which caused her to roll her eyes, as it was heaven in a pastry. Now that, was a scone, possibly the best she had ever eaten. Light and slightly sweet, it needed no jam to aid it. She hoped Josh did more baking as it was divine. Her attention was drawn away from Sam, to the beauty of the beach. Violet was right, it was beautiful, and it just begged to be explored. She did notice the water was higher on the sand than when they had arrived, good thing the boys had set up their bonfire high enough on the beach, the incoming tide would not put it out, once they had it lit.

She heard Davey before she saw him, he was hollering for Sam and she hoped all was well, as his voice made it hard to tell if he was just screeching, or if some dire fate had befallen him. When Sam ruffled the boys hair and placed him on his shoulders, she smiled at their interaction. Davey turned on Sam's shoulders, looking back to the ship, and waved to her. Betsy waved back, sharing the boy's infectious grin. She then knew, all was well.

Violet had been watching her, he saw the concern in her face when Harp was hollering, it warmed him to realize she was coming to care for those he sailed with. It made him glad, as he wanted her to become a part of their 'family' upon the ship. Funny thing about families, you had your good and your bad, and you cared for them regardless as you came to know their background, and trials. Even Paulie was not hard to understand.

Paulie had lived a life of bitterness since becoming a man. He had married young, with a head full of dreams, and worked hard as a tenant on a large estate. Farming his spot of land, and trying to produce children also, yet that never came to pass. His wife had not conceived, after a thrice of years had passed, and she blamed Paulie for her barrenness. She left Paulie as he had worked in the fields one day, never to return. Paulie had picked up a bottle and thrown his life away. He started drinking and brawling in the taverns, he slept in the alley when he could not make it home, and eventually he lost that home, as he had quit tending the fields. He never saw or heard from his wife again and the bitterness grew inside him like a cancer. Ol' Chauncey had been the Captain of the Saucy Wench when Paulie came aboard. Why Ol' Chaunce had made him a cook, Violet would never understand, as the meals they were provided with were barely tolerable. Like today's scones. Violet knew Paulie had mixed up the salt and sugar, yet he also knew if he did not eat the salty baked good there would be nothing better to be had. That was one of the reasons he agreed with Betsy, that some fresh produce would be most welcome. If worse came to worse, they would have something to eat that was palatable.

"Shall we, my lovey?" Vi questioned her readiness to depart for shore.

"I am ready when you are, husband." Betsy's eyes sparkled up at him, her hunger had abated with the treat from Josh, and she was looking forward to the picnic with her husband.

"You should find the ladder much easier to climb now, yet I will go first over the side and assist you, until you are used to doing it." Violet went over the railing and descended a couple of rungs, before indicating she should climb over. With his weight keeping the ladder from swinging t'would be steadier for her.

They descended together, she a rung above him, he with his arms around her, lest she lose her footing in her loose boots.

They dropped into the dinghy at the bottom and Betsy immediately took her seat in the bow. Violet picked up the oars and started rowing them to shore.

He started singing a rowing tune and Betsy discovered her husband had a deaf ear. Oh Lord, t'was horrible, yet she found she could not ask him to stop. He had her grinning from ear to ear with his off key ballad. He and her Lady Arianna should never team up in song, or they would have every cat in hearing distance come a calling.

Betsy looked down into the bay as they traveled rather quickly across the water. The sea was so clear she could see the sandy bottom. She also saw sea grass being eaten by a strange creature she had never seen before. There were quite a few of them grazing together and she was curious as to what they were.

"Sea cows." Violet had noted her interest and looked down also. "They are very docile and only eat plant life. They move very slowly and may be curious, but I have never known them to be aggressive. If you happen to be swimming, and see a calf, just give them plenty of room so their mama's do not fret. They may swim up to you, but they are just as curious about you, as you would be of them. They sometimes like to bump you underwater, and while it can scare you a bit, they mean no harm."

Betsy continued to watch the creatures as she admitted to her husband, "I cannot swim Violet. I used to wade in the waves where I grew up, but the water was too frigid for swimming lessons."

"Well, we shall just have to remedy that, lovey. Everyone aboard ship must learn to swim, things happen, and sometimes not good, as you found out upon the Lady. It would be best if you knew how. I shall teach you while we are here." He assured her.

She knew the water was warm as bathwater, so she looked forward to his lessons, and learning to swim. She understood his meaning also, as she had already been through a pirate attack on the seas, she had thought she would drown if their ship had been sunk. T'would be wise to at least be able to keep her head above water if the need should arise. Also, she would get to be in her husband's arms, hopefully, without a shirt on his chiseled body.

Violet noticed her slight blush, and he could see where her mind had gone by reading her facial expressions, he too would look forward to the lessons, for the very same reasons.

The dinghy slid up on shore just as Sam and Pete came out of the jungle. They were carrying a large log with five boys straddling it. The boys were singing a sailing tune as their 'ship' carried them to the large pile of wood that sat on one side of the kettle.

When the boys saw Violet and Betsy they begged to be let down, as Sam and Pete lowered the log, they hopped off and ran to their Captain and his lady.

"Did you bring your pistol, Miss? Can we practice shooting now?" Davey raised hopeful eyes to Betsy.

Before she could answer, Violet addressed the boy, "We have some things we have to do first Harp, we need to find freshwater and that means a hike. Let us locate that while you finish gathering the other linens and clothing from the ship. The men have been hard at work and will need more sand for the deck. I need the dinghy taken back so they can fetch the sand they need. Would you do that for me? After the Miss and I find water we will come back and light your bonfire."

Davey nodded, and with a slightly downcast face, he turned towards the dinghy.

"You may have your shooting lesson tomorrow, when all the work is done." Violet assured him.

Davey whooped and dragged one of his 'brothers', Elias, to the dinghy. The boys scrambled inside and Violet pushed the boat off the sand for them. Davey manned the oars and Betsy could now see where his small muscles came from.

Violet turned and offered Betsy his hand, "Shall we, Kitten?"

She smiled and took his hand, allowing him to lead her to the path the boys had just vacated, as the three remaining boys stayed to help Sam and Pete gather more wood.

*******************************************************

Marcus Medeiros sat across the table from his wife, his son sat to his left, as they silently ate their meal of roasted lamb and potatoes.

Marcus was not the least bit hungry. He was anxious, as he was leaving on his yearly sojourn in six weeks. This upcoming journey was the only thing he really looked forward to each year.

Marcus looked up at the dour woman who had sat across the supper table from him for the last score and seven years. Her face was pinched into a frown, her eyes were hard and beady, and her general aura was just downright frigid. She rarely spoke to him, which was fine with Marcus, but it did make mealtime an uncomfortable affair, which he always tried to hurry along as much as possible.

If only I could have been a husband to Katherine instead, he thought. His life would have been very different, had he married for love, and not money.

Marcus looked at his son Alfred, t'was a sad thing indeed, when a man could not even see himself in his own offspring. The young man was a male copy of his mother. Marcus had never felt the bond with his son that he assumed a father should have. The boy had always ran to his mother. Alfred knew who held the purse strings in the family, and it certainly was not his father.

Marcus lived his married life appeasing a woman who had brought money to the union, he knew that she felt no need to respect him, and he did not want her love. For one, she had never offered it, and now, all these years later, it was she who used him for his social standing, she was trying to find Alfred his own rich bride. Good luck with that, Marcus thought, looking at the scrawny young man.

Marcus was a second son. His older brother Damien held the title their father had passed down when he passed away. Marcus would never inherit the title as long as Damien, and Damien's son, Drake, lived. Marcus hoped they both led full and long lives, as he loved them both totally and unconditionally.

Marcus had been given a commission from his father when he had come of age, he had sailed the seas for three adventurous years, before he had decided to settle down and marry for financial reasons. He did own a small estate, and it needed upkeep that he was not able to provide with a crewman's wages.

It broke his heart to do so, as he had fallen in love with the most beautiful girl. She resided in a seaside town, where the ship he had been sailing on, had to stop and make repairs. He had spent three, glorious weeks falling in love with the sweet Katherine. She had loved him in return and she had cried the morning his ship pulled out. He could still see her in his mind, crying, waving her handkerchief in farewell. She had stood there waving it until he could no longer see her in the distance.

They had made plans, they had even spoken secret vows to each other outside a tiny church in town, he was supposed to return for her as soon as he could.

It had not gone according to plan. He had returned home first, after his commission ended, only to find that his father was sick on his deathbed.

His father wanted him married to a woman of good social standing, and he could not bring himself to tell his father that in his heart, he had already married a poor, yet beautiful, sweet girl.

He vowed to forget about Katherine and do all he could to make his father's last days, happy ones. Marcus married Gwendolyn, she was his father's choice, and if he could not have Katherine, it did not really matter who he wed. Gwendolyn was the only child of an Earl, the Earl had given her a fine settlement, and after accomplishing the marriage, Marcus' financial state was secure.

His wife knew nothing of Katherine and would not want to know. It had been his secret all these years and he had danced a fine tune to keep it that way.

He justified his actions, in his own mind, by telling himself that without Gwendolyn he could not have provided for Katherine, let alone the son they had together.

Marcus had not known that Katherine was pregnant when he married Gwendolyn. Had he known, would he have done things differently? He would like to think so, but he could never be sure, as he had done what he had thought best for his father's peace of mind at the time.

He had never been able to claim his son he had with Katherine. That would have complicated things terribly, and Gwendolyn probably would have cut off his funds, and who knew what else. As it was, every penny he could save that had not gone into his estate, went to Katherine, to support her and their son.

He had made annual trips to visit the only woman he would ever love and to see his son's progress through the years. It killed Marcus inside every single time he went, to have his son believe he was a solicitor for his dead father, and to not be able to tell him that he was actually very much alive, and loved him with a father's pride.

Marcus decided he would change history if he could. He should have at least told his father of Katherine. Mayhap, his father had loved him enough, he would have at least met the girl. His father would have loved Katherine. She would have tried to brighten his last days with love and care and happiness. That was just who Katherine was. She even loved Marcus so much, she never condemned him for what he had done, she had never lain with him again either, though. She felt one wife at a time was enough to deal with, and she needed no more children to raise alone. He could not blame her, even though, every time he saw her, the flame burned bright again. He knew they both wanted to be intimate, but Gwendolyn was like a rock between them.

Katherine had not been happy with his decision, to say the least, but she had let him make his own mistakes. The worst part about the entire mess, was the beautiful, sweet girl who had trusted him, had been forced to pay right along with him for those very same mistakes, for years now.

Ah, but in six weeks, he thought. Then he would leave this frigid home and venture forth to visit his love. She always treated him kindly and seemed genuinely happy to see him, she still cried and waved her handkerchief, whenever it came time for him to go back to his life of lies.

He and Gwendolyn had created Alfred, he still did not understand how Alfred had turned out exactly like her, and bore no resemblance to himself whatsoever. He used to feel sorry for the boy. He was so tall and gangly growing up, it was as if he never did fill out, as he was still scrawny, having no muscle to speak of. His face was thin and his eyes were beady, he reminded Marcus of a rat, truth be told.

Now Violet, he was another story. A finer son, no man could ask for. He was tall and handsome. He too, took after his mother, the same iris colored eyes, the same wonderful, honest disposition. However, Marcus could at least see a part of himself in Violet, it was a subtle resemblance. Violet had Marcus' jaw, he had the same build as his father, even though Violet had surpassed Marcus in height by his sixteenth year, it was only by an inch or so. And then there were Violet's deeds, yes, he sailed the seas as a pirate, his earnings were contraband, but he could respect what Violet did with the earnings he received from his trade. He knew Violet would have rather had a commission and worked for the Crown. There had just been no way for Marcus to get that kind of currency from Gwendolyn without raising her suspicion. It was his own fault that his eldest son was a criminal. He could not fault Violet for joining whichever ship would take him, rather than falling into the mold of so many men in his town, and becoming a fisherman. Marcus had a hard time envisioning Violet casting nets, all day, everyday. Violet had passion, he was a natural leader, it was why he was chosen for Captain when the need arose. Marcus was proud of the man Violet had become, as he knew Violet's heart. Violet had asked him questions, thinking Marcus a close friend of his father, he had wanted to know about the man he never knew. The hardest thing Marcus had ever done, other than to break Katherine's heart, was to lie to his son. But Violet had shared his dreams with Marcus, allowing him a role in his life, as a sort of uncle. Violet had shared his dreams, of a place where boys and girls could live, without being cold or hungry. Where they would be healthy and cared for. Violet had a huge heart, Marcus only wished he could fill the empty place in Vi's heart, where a father should reside. He had wished, so many times throughout the years, that Katherine and Vi were the family he could have claimed as his own.

The weeks could not pass quick enough for Marcus, it would still take half a sennight by carriage to reach Katherine, but he would be away from here, and on his way there, and that was good enough for him.

He finished his meal in silence, as always, then rose, nodding to his wife and son, he quit the dining room to go upstairs. He wanted to make a list of what he needed to accomplish, before he could leave for the fortnight, he took for himself, every year.

He entered his room and went through to the dressing room. He slid open the top drawer of his dresser and removed a chain of silver that held a silver locket adorned with tiny flowers. Violets, to be exact. He smiled as he thought of Katherine's face when he could give it to her. She always loved his gifts, it was just too bad, there was always a trace of sadness in her kiss of thanks. He always received one, on his cheek, never did she allow him more than that. He tried to understand, as it was his own decisions that left him wanting more than she could give.

He held the heart tightly in his hand, he felt it warming, as he looked to his cold, lonely bed. God, but he wished Katherine slept there with him. As it was, he could hear Gwendolyn returning to her room next to his. She had not entered his room since Alfred had been conceived. He had certainly not wanted her there, as his heart lived somewhere on the coast, in a pretty little seaside cottage with Katherine Petals.

*****************************************

Alfred had caught on long ago, he was not the imbecile his father took him for. His mother had told him time and again that his father was weak. That he had never aspired to better himself or improve their financial security of his own doing.

Alfred did know, however, that at one time his father had done something to improve his financial security, he had married Alfred's mother. That he was weak, yes, that was true. So weak that he had a mistress, but he only saw her once a year. A stronger man would have a mistress here in town where she would be at his beck and call. A stronger man would not tiptoe around his wife and let her control how he lived his life.

Alfred had resolved long ago not to be the kind of man his father was. He wanted better in life, he wanted the one thing that was available to him, he wanted the Marquess' title and all that went with it. The only problem with that being the three men that stood between he and his aspiration.

He was still working on that part of his plan. His cousin Drake could be the biggest problem, as the Earl was always here and there, sailing the seas, a man that was hard to pin down at any one time. Alfred did not have the funds to be galavanting all over the globe. However, it was rumored, he may return to England to honor a betrothal in the near future.

Marcus would be a little more difficult to eradicate. He was his father after all, he should feel something for the man, but he did not feel anything much except frustration at Marcus' lack of ambition. He was a weak man, his mother was right about that. The world would not miss Marcus Mederois, and Alfred knew, he would not really either.

*****************************************

Gwendolyn had been crafty. She had married a weak man whom had only needed her money. As long as she retained control of it, she did not mind sharing, a little. She was not stupid, she knew from an early age that she was not pretty. She did not care, she told herself, as she was rich. She had enough money settled upon her that she would always be very well off. When it came time to marry, she did not care to whom she wed, as long as there was a title, and a larger one to aspire to. She wanted to be a grande dame, she wanted her son to hold the title of Marquess. If she had not an ounce of beauty, she could at least have respectable standing to go along with her fortune. She most certainly did not want a man she could love, as she knew that no man would love her back. Gwendolyn did not invite pain into her life, she also did not want a man who would control her, and therefore her funds. She was protective of herself, and her currency, using coldness and a dissatisfied attitude to keep others at bay.

She had a lover anyway, she did not need another. She had been sleeping with her cousin Jude since she was sixteen summers. They were more of allies these days, she and Jude, he supported her in her aspirations, even to the point of offering to help Alfred by doing away with Marcus. Jude saw him as the easiest elimination. A simple 'accident' around the manse, and that would be one down. One that Alfred could not be tied to, as he would not be privy to their plans, if she allowed Jude to have his way.

And she usually did. He was her one weakness. He had desired her when no one else had. He made her feel as no one else could. She had endured Marcus' touch only when she had needed to. Upon realizing she was pregnant with Jude's child, she had needed Marcus to think himself the father. She had also needed to ply Marcus with brandy half the night, but her ploy worked, and she covered over her transgressions. While at the same time, securing her asset. She had only been able to coerce Marcus to sleep with her the one time.

That, was more than likely due to the woman Katherine he cried into his cups about occasionally. Why he did not just have a mistress in town, she would never understand. How could a strong, virile man be satisfied seeing his mistress for only a sennight every year? Because he was not strong or viral, she thought, he was weak, and she would be better off without him. His moping around the house the rest of the year drove her insane. He should have just visited his estate and lived with his doxie all these years. Everyone would have been happier.

She was just relieved that Alfred did not resemble his father. Marcus may have suspected the truth if Alfred looked like Jude. She was the only one who noticed a similarity, it was more a personality nuance, than a physical resemblance that Alfred bore of his real father. Marcus had tried to take an interest in the boy when he was young, but she had done all in her power, to prevent them from forming a relationship.

Then, she had done whatever was necessary to keep Alfred on her side of the fence, all these years. Spoiling him and coddling him, giving into all his wants and needs, all the while berating Marcus to him, and killing any feelings Alfred may have grown for the man. She did not respect Marcus' weakness, he did not aspire to anything, she did not need her son going soft on her, too. There were things Alfred needed to accomplish. Murder was not for the weak. And they had to be very crafty about it. Killing three men, without raising suspicions, was going to be an extremely difficult task

***********************************************

I will be working to bring you more as I can, thank you all again SO MUCH for giving me a chance to entertain you!

Blessings, until next time :)