Second on the Right (9 page)

"Beggin' yer pardon, Cap'in. Looks like a
storm be brewin'. What'll yer orders be? Continue on course?"
Smythe asked.

With a heavy sigh, Captain Benedict looked
over at Eileen. "Aye. Maintain headin' at present."

"Aye aye, Cap'in." Smythe gave a nod and left
the cabin.

Benedict was still looking at Eileen,
remembering what would have been a pleasurable daydream, if not for
his first mate. Though she had gone ashore for those few days at
Saint Vincent Island, nothing had transpired between them. He had
even trusted her with his utmost secret, his hideaway. "Miss Davis,
sit," he said, a little more gruffly than he intended. “We need to
talk.”

With a nod, Eileen sat down. There were
strips of rumpled paper laid out on the table before Benedict. Her
eyes widened at the sight. With trembling lip, she began the
murmur, “The paper. Y-you have the printout Daria gave me. It’s
here.” Her eyes were wet with tears; she stared at her hands in her
lap.

Benedict watched her intently.

Once she felt composed, she looked up.
"Remember the day I first came on board?"

"Aye, am not likely ta ferget." He smiled. "I
thought you were…not quite right in tha head."

"Because of my ramblings about the internet,”
she continued his thought.

"The what now?" he leaned forward, placing
his arms on the table.

Taking a deep breath, she spilled out
everything that led up to the point of her being rescued from the
ocean. She covered her harassment at work, her useless
ex-boyfriend, her hopeless roommate, and her own lack of
self-confidence to make her life her own. She ended with the
explanation of what was on the paper, the information on her family
history, and how she wished that, if pirate blood truly flowed
through her veins, it would somehow benefit her in life.

Benedict was still taking in everything she
said, though some of it was beyond his understanding. Boyfriend?
Roommate? What did peak his interest was her mention of Captain
Davis in her family line. He looked down as he pondered all of
this.
She knew my first captain, thanks to Daria. I wonder why
she would have bothered with Eileen.

"S-so, you can see I was telling the truth,"
she stuttered.

"Aye, aye,” he said with a distracted air.
“Miss Davis, ye say Daria gave ye this?” he asked with eyebrow
raised.

"Yes." She cleared her throat again. "As I’ve
told you, I’m not from here…I-I mean, from this time. I’m from the
future—" she stopped. Her face flushed, and she was unable to meet
his intense gaze.

"I believe ye, Miss Davis,” he said quietly.
"Ye know of me first capt’in, Davis. Do ye know how he died?" he
questioned.

“No, sir,” she answered softly. “I’m not sure
how I arrived, o-or why I’m here, b-but I want to—” She looked
down, failing to finish.

“Miss Davis?” Benedict called. "Ye need ta
learn ta take what is rightfully yers. Be forceful if need be.
Defend if need be," he continued, waiting for her to nod in
understanding. “Do not give in, do not give up. Act it even tho' ye
don't feel it. In time ye will," he said.

November 7, 2001: 3:45 pm

James reclined in his chair on the aft deck
of the
Destiny.
His laptop sat on the table in front of him.
He had spent the last hour going over his notes and revising his
presentation for the following day. Calling it quits, he melted
into the chair, nearly all of his muscles relaxing under the warmth
of the sun’s rays. Just as he was drifting off into a nice dream,
the phone rang, jarring him back to reality. Blindly, he reached
out and grabbed his mobile. “James,” he answered monotonously.

“Well, whadda ya know? He does live.” Patrick
chuckled on the other end of the line.

Patrick was a large, broad-shouldered man
with close-cut, jet-black hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. James
and Patrick met each other in England during their long-ago
boarding-school days. James, a highly intelligent student, had
managed to attract bullies wherever he went. One fateful day, he
literally ran into Patrick while running from his daily
persecution. His large friend stood up for James, protecting him
from that day forward. The two found a special kinship. Patrick had
vowed to not only be his friend for life, but his self-imposed
bodyguard. As James was able to hold his own, he no longer needed
Patrick's services at school; however, they remained the closest of
friends.

James woke at the sound of his best friend’s
voice. “Hi, Patrick. To what do I owe the—”

“Ah, don’t say it, man. You know why I’m
calling. I got your email, and I’m taking care of it. I don’t have
anything yet. I’ll have something when you return.”

“So, you’ve called me to say you received my
email and are working on it? You could have replied to the email.
So, why the call?” James asked, suspicion in his tone.

Patrick chuckled quietly. “You are too smart
for your own good. Your brother called me. Says your parents are
pretty worried.”

James rolled his eyes.

“I heard that!” Patrick exclaimed.

James started to say, “There’s no way—”

“I know you, James….know you like the back of
my hand… Huh, never noticed that spot before. Probably should have
it checked out,” Patrick said, rambling on.

“Right. You can tell my parents and my
brother, I am fine. Everything is fine. The cruise is
fine
.”
The more James spoke, the more it sounded as if he were spitting
the words out. His irritation rose.

“Okay now. Calm down there, buddy. You know
they just want you to be happy,” Patrick explained.

“I don’t need their concern. I can take care
of myself!” James snapped. He had grown tired of the constant
pestering. Then, wearily, he apologized, “Sorry Patrick. I’m
just—”

“Don’t worry about it. I hear you. Look, they
wanted me to call and see how you were doing. You’ve been under a
lot of pressure lately with work. I’ll report back that you are
thoroughly enjoying your trip, which is why you haven’t
called.”

James smiled. “Thanks. I can always count on
you.”

“But seriously, you gonna tell me?” Patrick
asked.

“Huh? Tell you what?” he asked, confused by
the turn in conversation.

“Her name. Marty said you met a girl. So?”
Patrick waited.

James sighed. He had never actually admitted
to meeting someone, but once again Martin’s sixth sense paid off.
“Eileen. Her name is Eileen, but I don’t think she’s interested in
me. I blew it today.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad. You’re an
eligible bachelor,” Patrick replied, trying to offer
encouragement.

“You weren’t there! If you had seen
me…Patrick, I was way too forward, in a crazy sort of way. I kissed
her hand.”

“That’s not too bad. Actually, chicks dig
that sorta thing,” Patrick replied.

James laughed nervously. “Oh, that’s not
where it ends. I tried to kiss her. I have no idea why, but I was
leaning in, almost mesmerized.”

“Oh, boy.”

“Yeah. She went into a panic and ran for her
room as fast as possible. I asked her to meet me tonight at a
party, but I’ll be surprised if she shows. She just wasn’t
interested.” James sighed.

“You know it wasn’t that. Take it slow.
You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you’ll figure things out.”

“Right. Well, thanks for calling.” James
frowned, thoughts of Eileen pulling his focus away from the
conversation.

“Anytime. Hey, let me know how things turn
out, will ya? If you need someone to talk to, I’ll be here when you
return. In fact, I’ll keep a seat warm at the Black Duck.”

“Thanks. Goodbye Patrick.” James ended the
call and leaned back in his chair. Patrick was right. He needed to
take it slow, but he should not give up. He knew Eileen was worth
it.

January 31, 1652, night

Eileen shivered. She had kicked her blanket
off during the night. Reaching blindly in the dark, she pulled her
covers up to her neck. She curled into a fetal position as much as
possible in the hammock. Warmth and sleep washed over her.

Creak.

Her eyes flew open.

What was that?
she thought.

She was sure she had heard something in the
cabin. Eileen chided herself at the silly thought. The
Mistral
Thief
was an old wooden ship, so it stood to reason shifting
and creaking would occur. Somehow, this felt different. She
couldn’t understand why. Goose bumps ran down her arms.

It’s just the cold
, she thought.

She turned in her hammock, facing the
captain. She could hear him snoring. She yawned and snuggled back
down. Her eyes slowly shut as sleep again claimed her.

Creak.

Eileen woke with a start. Carefully, she
peeled back the privacy sheet. A lump caught in her throat. The
cabin door was open. She frowned. In the dim moonlight, a shadow
stood just within the captain’s quarters. It moved. Her heart
raced. She blinked, then stared. The dark silhouette glided
silently. She watched, unbelieving. The shape loomed over the
captain. She released the sheet.

He doesn’t know. He’s still asleep. I have
to do something. But what?
Her thoughts rattled through her
mind. She had to be quick.

As quiet as possible, she slipped from her
hammock. Her stocking feet made no sound. She crouched. Her fingers
slid down her leg until they found her dagger. She removed the
blade. Her hand trembled as she pulled back the sheet. Squinting,
she could make out the shape. She rose. The floor creaked under her
shifting weight.

Red eyes stared at her from across the room.
They seemed to float in midair. She held her breath. The hairs on
the back of her neck rose. She blinked. The eyes grew larger. She
looked to the door. When she looked back, the eyes were closer. She
panicked. The shadow lunged towards her.

Eileen screamed. “Captain! Captain, wake up!”
She stomped on the floor boards and yelled, “Smythe! Anyone! The
captain’s in danger!”

The creature howled.

Eileen swung her dagger at the intruder. He
slid to the right. She slashed. He slipped to the left. She thrust.
Her blade met air. He moved with little effort. And now, he drew
closer. She slashed haphazardly. She hit nothing.

The shadow hissed. She felt a rush of wind.
The creature flew at her. A powerful blow to the chest, her back
slammed into the wall. She tried to defend herself. Another rush of
wind and her dagger was knocked out of her hand. Her head hit the
wall. Sliding to the floor, she felt cold. She heard a raspy
inhalation. Looking up she was met with red eyes that glared at
her. A cold breeze wrapped around her. She tried for her dagger,
but it was gone. As she struggled for breath, her hearing
diminished. The shadow loomed over her. Eileen’s vision tunneled
until darkness enveloped her and there was nothing.

Eileen heard muffled voices. Some sounded
urgent, others were soothing low murmurs. She felt something cool
on her forehead. Someone pushed her hair from her face. She tried
to open her eyes, but couldn’t.

Arms slipped under her and she felt her body
rise into the air. She was pressed against something warm. She felt
at peace. She felt safe. She was placed gently onto a bed. That’s
when she heard the moan. It took her a minute to realize the noise
had issued from her lips.

“Eileen,” she heard whispered voices.

She tried to move, to open her eyes.
Nothing.

She felt warm breath near her ear. “Eileen,”
she heard again.

“Cap—” she called out, but darkness consumed
her and there was nothing.

It took considerable effort for Eileen to
open her eyes. She could see a faraway light serving as her only
beacon of hope. She breathed deeply and forced her body to work. At
the end of the tunnel, she could make out a hazy, dark outline of a
person. She gasped.
The intruder!