Sea Witch by Helen Hollick Read Free Book Online Page A

at the Golden Hind but we came here from England.” Her hint of a Cornish accent was a slight, burred lilt; pleasant.
    The coincidence of the Golden Hind was too much to resist. Jesamiah grinned. He firmly believed in grabbing opportunities as they presented themselves. Only, sometimes, you had to go after them with a club.
    “Then, if you will be so kind as to show me the way, I shall escort you to your guardian and strongly suggest he gives your backside a thorough paddling.”
    Tiola said nothing, trotted meekly at his side, her eyes occasionally lifting to study his handsome face, taking in every subtle detail of the man with the blue ribbons. The pirate.
    He did not recall her. She did not expect him to. In his eyes she was nothing more than a lanky, undeveloped child – hardly the sort of female he would normally notice! And here, this moment, was not the right place to be revealing herself to him; to be undoing the Craft-manipulated fact that he had completely forgotten her.

Five
    Jesamiah found Captain Woodes Rogers to be a stout man, full of his own self-importance and liking the sound of his own voice. Unsightly scarring marked what was left of the upper part of his left Jaw.
    “Pistol ball shot it away,” Rogers explained, offering his hand and seeing Jesamiah’s eyes stray to the scarred damage. “Can’t go capturing the Dons’ ships without expecting some form of retaliation, eh lad?” He slapped Jesamiah heartily on the shoulder, ushering him down an unlit corridor towards the private saloon of the tavern.
    On behalf of the girl’s guardian, Rogers thanked Jesamiah repeatedly. “The dear lady has been frantic with worry about the lass these past two hours – ye’ll join m’party for a glass of wine?”
    Jesamiah preferred the taste of rum or brandy, but flattered at being invited, did not refuse.
    “I thank you again Sir, for your kindness with the young miss,” Rogers enthused as he waved Jesamiah ahead of him. He lowered his voice, although even then he had a tone that could carry a quarter of a mile. “Child’s been here five weeks, but has already caused no end of disruption. Needs a good thrashing if you ask me. Comes from Cornwall. Rough lot, those Cornish. Like the Welsh, untameable.” He shrugged. “Her guardian is a wonderful woman, for all she is of the servile class.” Impatient, he gestured for his guest to open the door, go through. In the sudden light of a room full of sunshine, Jesamiah realised Rogers’ foot was swathed in bandaging.
    “Another misfortune,” the captain explained as he hobbled into the room. “Shot through the heel. Blasted thing has played me up the entire voyage, these two years or so. The girl’s guardian, Mistress Pendeen, bless her, knows a thing or two about poulticing, almost has it to rights now. Damned good woman.” He gestured a large bosom with his hands. “Shame I have a wife, eh?” He laughed. “Come, let me introduce ye. William, we have a saviour of errant young ladies among us! Sir, meet my friend and navigator, William Dampier.”
    “Er, Acorne,” Jesamiah said, politely bowing, unexpectedly flustered. “Jesamiah Acorne, with an ‘e’, at your service, sir.” He could not believe his fortune; here he was making the acquaintance of the great William Dampier himself!
    A third man, tall and thin with a grey beard and a head of thick, white hair, was rising from a chair. Rogers introduced him also. “Alexander Selkirk. Found him marooned some several hundred miles west of Chile. Been there over four years had ye not, Selkirk?”
    Jesamiah did not know whether to gape in admiration or guffaw out loud. Were these men serious? If it were not for the credentials he could merit to Dampier, the conversation would have seemed nothing more than a mother’s telling of a fabulous bedtime tale. Marooned for four years? How had the man survived?
    Seating himself, Rogers, oblivious to Jesamiah’s amusement, forged on. “My good friend