A Buccaneer At Heart

But how?

She raised her gaze to Sampson’s face, only to discover he’d refocused on her and was now regarding her with some concern. “What is it?” she asked.

He frowned. “It’s possible I shouldn’t tell you this, but there were others asking questions—a captain and his crew, not navy, but I got the impression they was...authorized, if you get my drift. A couple of weeks ago, they were here asking about people—officers—who’d apparently attended Undoto’s services and then...vanished. They didn’t mention your brother by name, but if I recall aright, they said there were two navy lieutenants among the missing.”

Her heart leapt. “This captain and his crew—are they still here?”

The worried look in Sampson’s eyes increased. “No. I heard they’d sailed off in something of a rush. Some say to Cape Town, but others as saw them go say they left under oars at night, and the tack they took out of the estuary lay to the north.”

For a second, Sampson searched her eyes, then he drew himself up. “If you’ll pardon the liberty, miss, this Captain Frobisher was a sharp sort, and he and his crew knew what they were doing. They came asking questions about people who’d gone missing, and they must have found something—something of the sort to send them packing, possibly back to London.”

Sampson glanced swiftly around, then shifted closer and lowered his voice. “It’s true there’s something havey-cavey going on in the settlement. Seems there’s more missing than a handful of officers. But whatever’s going on, it’s dangerous enough to have a captain of the likes of Frobisher playing cautious. You need to take that on board. Asking questions about those who’ve gone missing might end with you going missing, too.” He shifted back and looked her in the face. “Trust me, miss, you need to back away and leave this to those trained to handle such things.”

The possibility that, contrary to all appearances, someone—most likely someone in authority in London—was pursuing those missing, Will included, came as a huge relief.

However, they—whoever they were—weren’t here, and she was.

And Will was still missing.

She’d held Sampson’s gaze while those thoughts flitted through her mind; his worry remained plain to see. She drew breath, hesitated, then inclined her head. “Thank you for the warning, Mr. Sampson. Rest assured, I’ll pay it due heed.”

No need to tell him that learning that Will had, indeed, been on some mission and had subsequently disappeared, and that others had disappeared as well, had only made her more determined than ever to find her missing brother and, if possible, rescue him, too.

* * *

The obvious first step was to learn more about the mission Will had been pursuing.

Other than attending Undoto’s church, the only oddity she’d heard of in Will’s behavior before he’d disappeared had been his interest in Dixon, the army officer stationed at the fort.

Given the time-honored tensions between army and navy, Will’s interest in Dixon had to have been work related—ergo, mission related. Presumably, he’d gone to speak with Dixon, which made Dixon an obvious person for her to speak with, too.

Her hopes of gaining some insight into the nature of Will’s mission were riding high as she toiled up the final stretch of road that led to the open gates of the fort, with its guardhouse built against the palisade to one side of the entrance.

On gaining the cleared area before the gates, she paused and looked back. Perched on the crown of the hill above the harbor, the fort commanded an arresting view over the settlement and the ships clustered before the docks to the wide blue sweep of the estuary beyond. She took a full minute to savor the sight.

Three days had passed since she’d spoken to Sampson outside Undoto’s church. She’d spent those days alternating between vacillation and action. On the vacillating side, she’d found herself entertaining nagging doubts along the lines that perhaps Sampson was right, and she and her family would be better served by her retreating and then waiting to hear through official channels...

Every time she’d got to the “waiting to hear through official channels” part, her thoughts had come to an abrupt halt, and she hadn’t been able to follow that line any further.

She would never convince herself that waiting for someone else—especially someone with official authorization—to rescue Will was a viable alternative.

Her actions had been more to the point; she’d gone back to the taverns she’d previously visited and tried to learn more about Dixon. She’d reasoned that the more she could learn about him before she faced him, the better placed she would be.

Unfortunately, that tack had proved futile. For the same reasons she hadn’t expected Will to be acquainted with an army officer, none of those he had drunk with knew much of Dixon, either.

Just that he was stationed at Fort Thornton.

And now she was there.

She turned away from the vista and walked the last yards to the guardhouse and the pair of middle-aged guards taking the sun at their ease beside it.

They straightened as she neared. Both respectfully touched a hand to their hats.

“Miss,” said the younger with a nod.

“Ma’am,” said the older, straightening even more.

Aileen halted before them and smiled. “Good morning. I would like to speak with an officer by the name of Dixon. I understand he’s quartered here.”

Both guards looked at her, then to her surprise, the pair exchanged a sidelong glance.

The older refocused on her. “I’m afraid, ma’am, that that won’t be possible.”

She blinked.

Before she could formulate an appropriate response, the younger guard blurted, “He’s not here, you see. Gone off to seek his fortune in the jungle, they say.”

The older guard cut his junior a chiding look. “Don’t believe—much less repeat—everything you hear.” Looking back at Aileen, he said, “Captain Dixon was here—he should still be here—but he went missing some months back, and no one’s seen hide nor hair of him, nor heard anything about him since.”

“He’s vanished?” She fought to rein in her shock. Battled to keep her expression uninformative.

Nevertheless, the older guard frowned in concern. “Why did you wish to speak with him, ma’am?”

She met his shrewd eyes. She couldn’t think of any reason to lie. “I believe my brother, a lieutenant in the navy, came to speak with Captain Dixon. This would have been some months ago—possibly three months or more.”

“I remember that!” The younger guard beamed at her. “Thought it odd that one of the navy bas—ah, officers wanted to speak with one of ours.”

“So he—my brother—and Dixon met?”

The younger guard shook his head emphatically. “Couldn’t. Dixon was already gone. Would have been a good five weeks before. I remember we told your brother that. Had quite a jaw about it, now I think back. About what Dixon vanishing like that might mean.”

The older guard was regarding her closely. “Why don’t you ask your brother about Dixon—about what he was after him for—when the squadron sails in? Should be in a week or so, I gather.”

Aileen met his eyes, then grimaced. “Would that I could. Sadly, my brother has vanished, too.”

“Cor!” The younger guard’s eyes rounded. “Mercy me! Whatever’s going on?”

The older guard narrowed his eyes on his junior. “Told you. Don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not what it looks like.”

* * *

A week later, late in the afternoon, Aileen threw a shawl about her shoulders and left the confines of the boardinghouse to walk in the public gardens behind the rectory. She’d found the little oasis of civilized peace just a few yards up the road and down a short lane six days ago, and it had quickly become her favorite place for thinking.

As the sun began its final descent toward the western horizon, a cooling breeze often lifted off the harbor and estuary beyond, sweeping up the hill with gentle grace, refreshing and renewing the air after the stifling, muggy heat of the day.

Pacing along the lightly graveled path, Aileen made for her favorite bench. Situated beneath the spreading branches of a tall, shady tree, the bench was unoccupied, as it usually was. She’d seen only a handful of people using the gardens, and most of those were nursemaids or governesses with their charges; at this time of day, they were busy elsewhere, doing other things.

Amid the leaves of the old tree, long brown seedpods hung, dry now, and in the stirring of the breeze, they added their soft rustle to the evening’s chorus. She found the already familiar susurration welcoming. She sat, letting the fine shawl fall to her elbows so she could better enjoy the coolness on her skin.