"It was late afternoon. We stopped at a small tavern to eat, then came back here."
"How far a walk from the docks, and in which direction?" Zach was trying to get a bearing on the general area where Kimo had seen her.
Kimo turned to look back at the curve of the city as it spread away from the docks. "There." He pointed a long finger to the south of the landing. "We stopped to eat near the shop, then walked to the docks. It was a short walk."
Zach was grateful to learn that at least mid-afternoon Elyse had still been in the waterfront area. That greatly narrowed down their search. But it was a dangerous area. Something nagged at him. Trying to find her would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack, and he was fast losing daylight. He went to the rail.
"I don't know how long I'll be gone. But I want all the men aboard by midnight."
"Aye, Cap'n." Kimo nodded.
"Why do you bother?" Tobias asked. The look on his face was hard, as if he blamed Zach for her escape.
"Forget it. Barrington doesn't know that she's escaped and he's not likely to. You'll have that bloody confrontation you've been wantin' and she'll be well out of it."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Zach demanded.
"It means that you've brought the girl nothing but grief. She was nothing but a pawn to get to Barrington anyway you could, you said so yerself. Why not just leave it be? Save yerself the effort. She means nothin' to you."
Zach stepped back from the rail. His hand buried in the front of Tobias’ shirt. For a long moment they just stood there locked in a silent battle of wills, one having spoken the truth, the other refusing to accept it.
He slowly let go of Tobias, regret sharp. There had been a lot of regret lately. His hands closed gently over the man's shoulders. "I'll be back." He turned and climbed down over the side. Tobias watched as he left. It was a small victory, but he'd take it.
When he reached the docks, Zach made his way along the familiar back streets and alleys, fear driving him. She must have been really angry and desperate to leave like this.
He silently cursed himself. He'd been a fool to believe she wouldn't try. Hadn't she asked him time and again to release her? And everything had been so bad between them when he'd left that morning.
She was stubborn, defiant, and strong willed. He'd gotten no less than he deserved, and he knew it, but this time he was afraid she didn't know what she was getting into.
This wasn't London, where her grandmother was well connected, and the Barrington name could protect her. This wasn't a morning romp to Jane's Folly in the Woods, or a prank like slipping into a discreet men's club. This was Lisbon, dangerous, deadly, and no place for a young lad, much less a young lad who wasn't a lad at all.
Elyse eventually found the Green Dolphin Inn. Now she waited across the way.
It was dark. The oil lamps at the corner cast soft shadows a few feet down the street, then everything was plunged into darkness. The Green Dolphin's door had opened as two men stepped out.
Others had emerged, unsteady on their feet, assisted by friends or alone, had staggered a few feet then become violently ill. Elyse pulled back into the shadows of the building across from the tavern. Above, in second-story windows, lights glowed.
She heard voices as people passed, the squall of a cat, the cackling laughter of the woman whose shadow appeared briefly at a window, then disappeared as arms reached for her, pulling her from view once more.
In spite of the warmth of the cape, Elyse shivered. The waiter at the restaurant had warned her this was not the place to be. But it was where his wife's cousin worked, and hopefully the man would know of a captain who might be bound for England.
It seemed to Elyse she'd waited for hours. The cool night air, damp from the sea, had given the wool cape a heavy musty smell. She couldn't wait any longer, and quickly walked across the street, her sandals noiseless on the cobbled road.
The interior of the Green Dolphin hit her in a wave of smells. This was life at its lowest, drunken and perverse. If she'd feared the darkened streets of Lisbon, likening them to her worst nightmares, this was like no nightmare she'd ever experienced.
Tables sat about the tavern, surrounded by chairs. All were occupied by men: sailors, wharf riffraff, and a sprinkling of the scourges of humanity. Somewhere in this sea of human flotsam was Santo.
Elyse asked for him at the end of the long bar, keeping her eyes downcast. A burly, black-haired man with a sweeping mustache was pointed out to her. She worked her way around the edge of the tavern, quickly stepping out of the way of a drunk customer, pushing another away when he careened toward her, and ducking beneath the swinging arm of a balding pirate who had taken aim at his companion's face. His companion was a garishly made-up woman whose stained bodice gaped away from mammoth breasts.
"What will ye have?"
"Information, please." She realized how ridiculous such proper language must sound in a place like this. The man behind the bar obviously thought the same.
"We don't give that away around here. Whatever you want, ya gotta pay for. If you want a drink, pay for it."
"I want to talk to Santo."
The man looked at her carefully. Elyse lowered her head, shielding her face. The man shrugged.
