After she left the man with the mocking grin and taunting eyes, the real preparations for her quest began. Samuels and his crew were returned to the ship and the townspeople welcomed them home. Alexis made herself comfortable in the Quinton Shipping Line offices instead of staying in the home that held such painful memories for her.
She visited her home on the hill, though, and oddly felt nothing. She looked at the graves of George and Francine and Pauley and felt a passing sadness. It was not until she sat in her worn spot of earth, her crow’s nest, that all the events of the past weeks fused into a hard, cold cancer in her belly and she wept for all she had lost.
She did not resist the tortured sobs that sounded foreign to her own ears. She welcomed them as the symbol of the relief and release she deserved. She thought the tears cleansed her body and her mind, and when she heaved the last gasp she was ready to begin again. It would be Captain Alex Danty from now on.
From her new home Alexis directed the outfitting of her ship. It was gone over from bowsprit to taffrail to make it seaworthy for the long months ahead. Extra guns were placed on board and carefully disguised so the vessel maintained the illusion of being no more than a merchant.
Alexis relied on Frank Grendon, George’s secretary, to make arrangements for cargo to be taken on board. He was the one who saw to it that she had the necessary documents to protect her in the event of being boarded. His wife, Sally, along with other women in the settlement who were grateful to Alexis for bringing their husbands home after an encounter with Lafitte, sewed flags of different countries which would enable Alexis to disguise the purpose of her ship even further.
After more than four months of intensive labor and intricate planning Alexis decided she was ready to begin her search. She chose Grendon to run the line while she was gone and together they devised a system which allowed either one of them to have messages taken to various ports by the remaining Quinton merchants.
Alexis sat in the dining room of Frank and Sally Grendon on the evening beforeDark Ladywas to sail. She sipped her wine slowly, thinking how much she preferred the company of this quiet couple to that of the wealthy planters and landowners who had assailed her with invitations to celebrate the completion of her work on Tortola.
“They would have tried to talk me out of it,” she said, thinking aloud, unaware she had spoken until Frank tilted his head in her direction.
“You said something, Alexis?” he asked. He crossed his long legs at the ankles and eased his thin form into the leather-backed chair. A shadow crossed the deep cleft that slashed his chin perpendicularly and disappeared when he lifted his head and smiled.
At one time Frank had given serious consideration to buying into the business of his close friend and employer to assure its continuation if anything should happen to George. That had changed when Alexis came to the island. At first Frank assumed, as did everyone else, that George would see Alexis’s husband took responsibility for the line. Gradually it became apparent that Alexis herself was capable of overseeing the business. Frank bowed out, not disagreeably, certain that working for Alexis would be no less a privilege than working for George.
“I was thinking how much I wanted to be here with both of you instead of the others,” Alexis said. “They would have tried to stop me, even at this late date.”
“And you knew we wouldn’t.”
“I’d never have come if I thought you would, Mr. Grendon.”
“Good. Sally has a surprise for you. When you see it you will know just how seriously we are taking this venture.”
Sally leaped to her feet and left the room. She was the perfect physical foil to her husband. Where he was a series of triangles and parallel lines she was a succession of curves and graceful arcs. His eyes were scalene-shaped filled with silver while hers were circles of violet. His mouth was almost a straight line while hers, more often than not, was given to an expression that pulled her lips in a smallO.It was this expression that greeted Alexis and Frank when she returned to the room with a large bundle of clothes in her arms. Alexis helped her clear a place for her bundle on the table.
“They are for you,” Sally announced with breathless pleasure. “The other women and I did a little more than make flags.”
“Oh, Mrs. Grendon! It’s wonderful!” Alexis ran her fingers down the stack of soft shirts and trousers. “How clever of you! I thought I was going to have to borrow clothes.”
“Look on the bottom, Alexis. It’s something special.”
Alexis picked up most of the pile and put it to one side. She knew what Sally was referring to. The black material had caught her attention immediately. Her fingers lingered over the dark silk before she held up the shirt in front of her and looked to both of them for approval. The billowing sleeves were clipped at the wrists with gold cufflinks she recognized as George’s.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Look beneath the trousers,” Sally fairly squealed. “There’s also something of Francine’s.”
Alexis lifted the trousers and found a crimson satin sash below. She placed it around her waist over her dress. “Mrs. Grendon, Lafitte will be absolutely envious of my attire. He prides himself on being the best-dressed brigand on the seas.” She caressed the sash longingly.
Sally laughed, a small tinkling sound. “It was not our intention to see you well dressed—only well hidden. There is a mask also and a bandanna to keep the British from seeing your face and hair.”
“You’ve thought of everything,” Alexis sighed, removing the sash and sitting down. “How did you choose the color? Why black?”
“The captain of theDark Ladyin pink? Hardly,” she scoffed. “There are boots for you too. Frank saw to them. You can get them when you go to the ship this evening.”
“Why? Why is everyone so eager to help me?”
“Many reasons, Alexis,” Frank answered. “Some because George and Francine were dear friends. Some because Quinton Shipping is the livelihood of so many here and Travers nearly ruined it for us. The men you chose think you can do it. It is not just because of Travers that they are willing to follow you. Part of it is their protest against impressment and an incident that should not have been allowed to take place.”
“Just so none of them feel sorry for me.”
“Feel sorry for you?” Frank rubbed the cleft of his chin with a thin finger. “What man in his right mind would risk his life because he felt sorry for someone else? I believe you weeded those fools out. Some of those men have been your friends since you came to Tortola. They might want to protect you—that could be part of the reason they agreed to help. They are—we all are—saddened by what happened to George and Francine, but none of them would use feeling sorry for you as a replacement for loyalty.”
“You’re right, Mr. Grendon. They are good men. That’s why I am going to have them back working for Quinton Shipping in no time at all.”
