“Sir,” Governor Dummer said to Marcus, putting his hand on Marcus’s shoulder, “I don’t care if you have been the most notorious of them all. You’ve brought me Captain Edward Zale, a coup that will please His Majesty the King. He has only just ascended to the throne, and I’ve been looking for a gift to delight him. Presenting him with the last mayor of the Pirate Republic will be just the thing.”
“I don’t understand your meaning,” Marcus said.
“I mean that it is in my power to pardon you—and I am,” Governor Dummer said. “As long as you promise not to return to pirating, then you are a free man, and you may keep your ship and all your plunder, with a handsome reward coming your way, as well. Tell your men that they are also free,” he continued. “But if I hear that anyone from your ship has returned to pirating, they will not get a second chance. The king desires this mess with the pirates to be over for good, as do I. I’m choosing to be lenient to all, except to this one.” He walked over to Edward. “Edward Zale has already received the King’s Pardon once, and that is all he gets. Mr. Zale will be tried as a pirate, and I intend to see that he hangs.” He called for his secretary to summon the gaoler while the soldiers took Edward into their custody.
Marcus seemed stunned and stepped forward, no doubt to question the governor, but I captured his hand and smiled, pulling him back.
“You’re free, Maxwell.”
“But I do not deserve it.”
My smile could not be dimmed. “None of us deserves forgiveness. Just as Christ pardoned our transgressions, though we were not worthy, the governor has pardoned yours.”
His brown eyes searched mine, as if seeking truth. When he found it, he grinned and wrapped me in his embrace.
“You’re free,” I whispered. “Marcus Zale no longer exists. From this day on, you get to choose who you want to be and how you want to live.”
When I pulled back, I found tears in Maxwell’s eyes, and before he kissed me, he said, “I want you, Caroline.”
It was midafternoon as Maxwell and I pulled into Isaac and Hope Abbott’s property in Salem Village, a little community about five miles north of Salem Towne. He had rented a carriage soon after we had left the governor’s mansion, and though we’d spent the entire drive marveling at the governor’s pardon, our anxiety about what would happen tomorrow on my birthday was foremost in our minds.
Hawk and Timothy had returned to theOcean Curse, which now belonged to Maxwell, per the governor’s orders, to share the news of the pardon with all the men. Those who chose to stay would become employed by Maxwell, who planned to become a merchantman, and those who chose to leave were warned not to return to their pirating ways. Timothy promised me he would go home to visit with his father and siblings once the ship was secure, and Hawk assured us that he would keep an eye on things until Maxwell returned.
But all Maxwell could focus on was getting me to Salem Village.
The Abbotts’ home was beautiful. It was a classic saltbox house with a slanted roof and no eaves. The clapboard siding was painted a brick red, and the trim around the doors and windows matched.A large barn and several outbuildings spoke of prosperity, as did the cattle in the nearby field, the pigs in a pen, and the chickens running loose in the yard.
I sat beside Maxwell, my hand in his. “I’m still in shock,” I told him. “I had expected today to go much differently. I had dreaded God’s plan, but now I realize how foolish I had been.”
“Aye.” He lifted my hand to kiss the back. “I’m still trying to understand it myself.” He nodded at the house. “I pray Hope Abbott has more good news for us.”
Even if Hope had answers, it might be that I had no choice. That my life would end here tomorrow. The thought terrified me. But I would choose to trust God’s plan for me, as well.
An older man appeared from the barn, squinting into the afternoon sunlight as he wiped his hands on a handkerchief and walked toward us.
“Good day,” he said. “How may I help you?”
Maxwell stepped out of the carriage and came around to help me down.
My gown was cumbersome, but I didn’t mind. Not after months of dressing as a man.
“Are you Goodman Abbott?” I asked him, trying not to feel so nervous.
“Yes.” He looked from me to Maxwell and back again. “And who are you, may I ask?”
I licked my dry lips and said, “My name is Caroline Reed. My mother was Anne Reed, and her mother was Rachel Howlett. I believe—”
“Rachel’s granddaughter?” he interrupted me, his face revealing his shock.
“Aye. And this is Maxwell MacDougal. We’ve come to speak to your wife. Is she at home?”
I held my breath, afraid that Hope was not there, or that she had died, or that she wouldn’t want to speak to me.
“Come,” Goodman Abbott said with a grin. “My wife will be very pleased to meet you.”
We followed him into his home, admiring the interior. The house was decorated with beautiful furniture, lovely paintings, and thick carpets.
“Won’t you have a seat?” Goodman Abbott asked as he led us into a parlor with wainscoting and built-in shelves next to the fireplace. “My wife is preserving vegetables today, but she’ll be much happier visiting with you.”
