Sarah Dunn

SARAH DUNN

by Torodrid

CHAPTER 1 

The candle on the chandelier sweat onto the oak table. No one said a word. Even Joel stopped scrubbing glassware to watch the match unfold. 

The stool creaked as Billy rocked forward. He glanced at the three Queens and two Sixes splayed opposite to him. Francis, his opponent: big and blond, but bare as a viking prince, gave him an icy stare. Billy shook his head; a long sigh. He then peered down at a freckled boy that stood next to him. A worried frown on his face. 

Then Billy grinned. 

He returned to the table. His gaze fell on Francis. Francis knew that look. An involuntary scowl grew on his countenance. Billy spread his cards down. It showed: one, two, three Jacks, a Seven, then a final Jack. A full house. 

The room erupted in cheering, whooping and laughter. Chairs clattered and grog exploded from the mugs. Billy rose from his stool with his arms in the air as Francis crossed his own and leaned back in disappointment; the crowd rounding the table to Billy's side as they splashed ale and lifted him up high.

"Three cheers for Billy Taylor!" shout Joel.

"Cheers!" Mugs clashed and spilled drink all over.

One man slipped onto the floor and all laughed, including him.

"To the man who never cares about the odds, and still comes on top!" said another.

"You can say that again," Heidi said with a wink.

Again, a round of laughter and cheering filled the air.

"Cheer up, Francis!" said Billy. "Take pleasure in knowing you came ahead of the rest."

"But no one beats you," he replied. 

"That's right!"

A red haired woman sat on Francis' giant lap, and whispered in his ear. "That doesn't have to be the case with me if you like." Another woman mimicked the last and sat on his other lap, seducing him with her rose lips and blush.

"That's it for now, lads!" said Joel. "It's Sunday. We don't want the family men and nuns coming here to have a heart attack at the sight of you lot. Pay for your drinks, then scram!" 

Billy pointed at Francis. "You cover my tab. Now everyone, follow me! I will deliver you from this god-forsaken land!"

They threw on him a white table cloth, then two burly men carried him out through the enameled bar doors. An exodus of whooping men and women followed along to the street as they sang melodies of the Greeks and sailors lost for the sea.

"There's no myth greater than that of Bold Billy Taylor! Born from Black Beard's seed in a barrel of mead, before the pirate drowned with his gold at the bottom of the sea. Only the keg holding his baby made it to the white beach of Cuba, where our captain found this boy drunk and wooing his daughter, before he charged him to lead his crew for the last twenty-three years to the day."

"Twenty-four!" said the boy, Archimedes.

"Correct!" assured Gaspar, messing the boy's red hair.

From up there, Billy could clearly see the coastline. A spectacle of light, as if glimmering glass was accumulated on the shore. And in the center of it, the Gallant THUNDER BOMB: a stout man-o-war, with carvings at the stern gilded gold and the figurehead painted white. Along its side was a long white streak to distinguish it from ships not belonging to the king's navy. Speaking of which, here comes one of his loyal servants now.

"Mr. Taylor!" boomed Captain Doyle.

"Wow, Captain, you're looking dapper today. Trading your sea legs for a family?"

"Mr. Taylor. Why is it that only a day after landing, I'm receiving complaints from the Mayor about a band of sailors causing trouble between the tavern and the brothel?"

"Don't look at me, Dylan. I can't say I was anywhere near those two places last night."

"Father Truman did not make it to church today. Not until halfway through the mass with only his knickers on, yelling for ‘Billy Taylor and his band of burglars’ to return to him his robe and the wine that was to be consecrated."

"I have to ask, did Father enter the church from portside or starboard?"

"What is that question, Mr. Taylor?"

"Well, Dylan, if he entered from portside, it means he probably had too many drinks and forgot his things at the bar. If he came from starboard, then he was probably doing a one-on-one with a sinner-woman at the brothel. Either way, this town has to have the most audacious priest I've ever heard of!"

A round of muffled laughter.

"Silence! I have plenty of reasons for which to have you flogged: insubordination, speaking ill of a holy man, ignoring orders…"

"The list goes on!"

"But, no one can deny that this ship and its crew would not be so well recognized if you weren't on it. So, I've decided to give you a punishment more suited for this unique occasion."

"And what might that be?"

…

"No way, Captain!" said Billy. "I'm not going to be babysitting some kid for a month whilst you lot set off without me. I'd be like a fish on land! I would suffocate if you left me out of the water too long. And it’s just as you said, you need me on your ship."

"Luckily for us, you're no fish, and you don't have anywhere else to go," as he spoke, he removed his suit and slipped on his blue uniform. "Like it or not, you need us as much as we need you, and I know you will return to us once we return because it is your life; you have no other."

"Then I'll just cause chaos in this town while you're gone. They'll come to hate you so much for leaving me that they'll ditch their British nationality and trade it for a Spanish one."

"That won't happen. The girl you must watch is the kid of one of the most prestigious and well organized families in the Thirteen Colonies. That is because her father was a former general that fought the battle of the Roses, and will conduct you with discipline that will shape you up into the finest person the Royal Navy has ever seen," he picked up his suit, folded it into a perfect square, and took it to his wardrobe.

"There's no way some old man can do that. If he's that old, he's probably deaf or dumb or both. I'm telling you, it's not going to happen."

The Captain banged his hand on the table. "Look, William, we both know if I let you stay, you will keep doing what you have always done, over and over again. At least this experience should provide you with a well earned change of pace," he stood up straight. "Think of it as your vacation. A pre-organized retreat where you only have to watch over a girl for a couple hours a day, then meditate on your future for the rest of it."

"It's as you said. This... Wellington... is my future. I have no other." 

"For my sake, I hope you're right. But I'll come back in a month and see how you turn out. I also find pleasure in your being wrong," the Captain smirked. "Dismissed."

...

The door opened with a good tug. The sun was no longer at its peak, but still bright enough to make Billy squint when he saw it. A split second later, his most trusted companions appeared in his peripherals; at the top of the staircase, leaning on the railing and sitting on the steps.

"Still didn't get a promotion?" said Gaspar over the railing. 

"Worse, I got demoted to lifeguard."

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Archimedes.

Francis burst into a hearty laugh. "It means the Captain's beaching him! Tell us how long. A week? A month? A year?"

"A whole month," said Billy. "Watching over some duke's daughter. Captain didn't even share any details; just told me to take my stuff uptown to the 'Darling Estate' by five."

"What do you care about taking your stuff? You're going to be staying with a duke! You'll have everything you want and more for an entire month!" said Francis.

"Lucky," said Archimedes, perching his head on his hands.

"Is this his idea of a punishment?" chuckled Gaspar.

"It won't be that easy. Duke's some ex-military that's gonna be on my back at all hours of the day."

"What are you worried about? You're Billy Taylor. As if anyone could keep you on a leash," said Francis.

"Touché, as the French say. You're right, I'll be able to handle myself, no problem. Question is, are you ready to take over for me while I'm gone?" he said, looking at Gaspar. A tick began in Francis' left eye; his mouth slightly agape.

"Me, Billy? Why not Francis?"

"I want to see how things would be with you in charge for a month. Give you a chance at leading this merry band while I'm gone. I don't think I have to explain what that encompasses."

"No, Billy, I know," Gaspar's brown face began to glow. "I'll run things just as well as you."

"Run them how you would, my friend. There's a reason why you're who I'm leaving in charge."

"Billy," said Francis. "Why not leave me in charge? If anything happens, I'm far more commanding than Gaspar; louder, stronger. I've had your back since we were kids."

"Yes, Francis, I know that. Which is why I know you'll have Gaspar's back just as well as you've had mine."

Archimedes turned the face of his worn pocket watch to Billy. "You've only got fifteen minutes to five."

"Well, I better get going," he landed his hands on his knees and levered himself up on them. "My friends, Billy Taylor bids you adieu, as the French say."

"Best of luck, land lover," Gaspar patted him on the shoulder, Archimedes saluted him, but Francis didn't even nod.

As Billy walked onto the port, shadows from the ship fell on him as if a flock of seagulls had suddenly decided to migrate. Yelping and cheering rose to the sky as the crew wove their hats and flags made of their shirts or pants to one who did not even have a captain’s rank. 

“Man your posts! Raise the anchor! Lower the sails!” yelled the Captain from the quarterdeck. 

Many scattered immediately, but some veterans and rookies stayed to watch Billy walk away on land.

“This is a historical event,” whispered Dolan the Old to Archimedes. “The first time this ship’s ever raised its anchor without Billy Taylor on it. May God protect us, and him alike.” He kissed his rosary, then slipped it back into his pocket.

The boy remained watching as Dolan left to weigh the anchor. He thought about how calmly Billy marched on, as if staying by himself on land was just a habitual thing he did.

Just another day for Billy Taylor.

The yards creaked above until the saggy sails caught wind and began to thrust the ship forward. To his right, men dragged in the disembarkment board; one of the painters ran at them whining about them scratching the cream-yellow boards, saying, “Have you any idea how much work was put into that?”

I guess we really are leaving him.

“Goodbye, Billy!” he shouted in his squeaky tone. 

Without turning around, Billy raised his right hand. Archimedes felt very special that he replied to him, and only him.

Off he went, climbing up the dusty road towards white steadings that resembled snow, sprinkled on the hill. Meanwhile, the Prince Wellington S.S. rotated towards the falling sun that snuggled itself amidst a thickening fog. As the ship followed, it soon faded into gloom.

CHAPTER 2

PUREST VANITY

William reached the uptown, where the streets were clean and fair couples strolled like pigeons. Lawns, neat with the darling flowers and soft grass, and open windows, releasing the smell of something divine. Whatever it was, it inspired a voracious hunger in William that made him even more anxious to find the right house once and for all.

All the houses looked the same to him, and the only thing that gave each some identity was the brass number nailed to the porch. The Captain didn't even provide him with that piece of information, so William had to go around asking rich couples – no matter how kind they replied to him – which was the Darling Estate. He took no pleasure in having to do so repeatedly, after each couple he asked gave him a wrong house number, convoluted responses involving parties and fine dinners, or well meant rejections to his question. Restraining hard from giving a stink-eye, he bid them thanks and goodnight, some more pleased with his fine speech and politeness, whilst others grimaced at his misconstrued portrayal of higher class.

I could care less.

Eventually, William narrowed down on a T-shaped road which a bony don with his plump and slightly older missus had pointed him towards. Nothing evident indicated he was in the right avenue, but a feeling in his gut told him this had to be the right street; unless that was his stomach unable to wait any longer.

Right or left, right or left... Left if you want to be left hungry, right if you want to find the right house. It must be right.

He searched for a house with their lights on, walked up to the door and knocked. They told him the Darling Estate was down the left road.

It was left. Of course it was.

He felt his legs sting as they plummeted onto the creaky steps of the porch. 

This endless hassle is wearing me down quickly. 

Sea-legs serve their purpose well. On a ship, a sailor never needs rest from rising or descending steps, nor climbing or running to and fro when orders need carrying out. But talking distance, crossing the deck of a ship always seemed less tiresome of an ordeal than seeing the environment change the longer and further you go.

He crossed the garden gate and pulled it gently closed behind him, expecting it to lock with ease. He was already walking away when he heard it creak open, and made the effort to walk back and ensure it was properly closed. He fiddled with the iron latch, not rusty, but terribly designed, and unwilling to align itself properly with the other components.

“So much money and they can’t even get someone to make a proper lock,” he mumbled with strain in his tone.

“Come on, come on, come on, come on. Forget it! Who cares, anyway, if that gate stays open.”

He began to tread off towards the left road when he came to a sudden halt. A low-growl coming from behind made the hair on his neck rise. Turning slowly counter-clockwise, his sight fell upon a demon shroud in darkness, with blazing-red eyes and drool-leaking fangs, dripping like acid onto the ground. 

Jesus, Mary and Joseph…

The beast exploded in his direction before he finished his thought. A black shine on its fur as it came into the lamp light. But William took no notice as he was already gone, sprinting down the road like his legs never ached.

Bark was drowned out by screaming as the racing William steadily lost first place. He could only wonder why no one was coming out to save him, cursing between pants: “Damn… toffers!”

The house didn’t matter anymore. Once William heard the paws pound the ground directly behind his heel, he took a jump over the nearest fence and spiraled through the air before crashing onto a patch of lilies that now functioned as dyes to his white shirt. To his amazement, the barking remained on the other side of the fence; scratching and snapping through the thin slits, but making no way through.

Adrenaline ran through his veins. An urge to cheer was growing in his chest. A painful sting in his back stopped him, and gave him enough time to think of the trouble he could get in if the owners of this house found him shouting in a bed of their smashed flowers. Instead, he rolled himself onto the grass and away from the fence, painfully rose into a sitting position, then leaned over to his right to see if he could jam the lilies that seemed sufficiently intact back into the mound of dirt. He took off his shirt and scrubbed off the dirt and faded petals that convicted him as the lily-killer, and rolled it up into a spiral off of which fell a stream of water back onto the ground which had been recently watered.

When the final drops had fallen off, he uncoiled his shirt and revealed it to be all wrinkled and blotched like a cow. Regardless, he slipped it on, wincing from the cold of the wet that he hadn’t noticed during his adrenaline high. A pot-crash sounded behind him, which caused him to spin into an unbalanced fall. With his chin on the ground, he looked ahead to the corridor between the house and the fence, littered with wallflowers and pots, and in the middle, a boy. His head was covered with a red beanie that hid most of his hair, and black clothes obscured all his other features. With his shoe, the boy nudged the crashed pot to the edge of the fence, then made his way towards the window and began to fiddle with it delicately. 

If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a thief.

William burst up from the ground and dashed towards the boy that had succeeded in unlocking the window, and had begun to gently slide it open before passing through.

Only his legs were left out when William caught hold of them.

“Help! Let go!” squealed the burglar.

“Quiet, thief! You thought no one was watching. Big mistake!”

The burglar tossed around wildly and flung his legs up and down until he finally kicked William in the chin, knocking him off balance. William had a sailor's grip, however, so maintained his hold. The boy pulled himself through, and unexpectedly dragged William in as well, knocking over a table-stand with a silver picture-frame and yet another plant, before falling flat on the floor.

"What the hell was that?!" said a gruff voice.

Heavy thudding entered the hall, followed by birdy feet.

Candle light exposed both intruders who wriggled and groaned.

"Give up!" said William.

"Let me go!"

William took hold of the burglar's hat, stuck to his head, and wrestled him flat on his back, until he was locked between William's legs.

The hat slowly separated from his hair. An unending amount of hair, the color of barley, halo-ing the gentle face of what looks a lot like a woman.

What the hell is going on here?

*Bash!* he collapsed by the burglar.

"Get away from my daughter, you mongrel! I'll have you hanged for this!"

He was now the one who lay on his back, the ceiling lamp twisting into a shell. 

When his peripheral vision began to work again, he saw beyond his feet, dressed in a velvety violet robe, a small headed man with a silver beard to envy. Lifting the candle over his shoulder was a house maid, with a lace on her scrunchy hair, and a look of perplexity William couldn't help but imitate.

"Colonel Darling, should I fetch an officer?" she asked.

"No," he said. "There's no need. I will handle this." He raised his cane with an eagle's head.

William groaned, his hands pressed against the growing bulge on his right temple. Wait.

"Colonel, don't!" he moaned. "My name is William...Taylor! Captain Doyle sent me. I'm the new help."

On that last breath, he exhaled with exhaust, then fell unconscious.

"Aah!" cried the maid.

"Damn it woman, what is your issue?" said the Colonel.

"Y-you killed him, Colonel!"

"Bah! No, I didn't kill him! See? He's still breathing."

He pressed his cane into William's chest; he grunted in response. The maid sighed with great relief.

"But it looks like he might spend the first day with us in bed. Take him by the legs and lift him onto the couch. Sally, help her with him."

He began to turn around, when he halted and spun back, "Sally, what were you doing out of bed?"

Her lips were stuck together. His gaze turned from her stunted face to the crashed pot on the floor, spilling yellowed water, then up at the window that hung completely open, and back at her again; in boy's clothes.

"Where did you get those?" he said, drawing a circle around her with his cane. 

Her eyes told she was as far back in her body as she could possibly go.

The Colonel looked down at the silver picture-frame resting at his feet. With a groan he reached down and lifted it, turning it to see the frame with a crack running over the face of Veronica, his former wife, and the girl's mother.

"They're Emmanuel's, father," she said at last. I got my own clothes… filthy, from playing in his gardens. He lent these to me."

He paused for a moment. "And you didn't think of bringing yours back with you?"

"He offered to clean them for me."

The Colonel's cold stare made her duck her gaze.

The maid gulped as quietly as possible.

"Marianne, you will go retrieve Sally's clothes for her tomorrow. If it wasn't for your face, I sometimes wouldn't be able to tell you came from your mother."

With a scoff he left back to his room.

The girl turned red before tears began to swell on her face.

"Sally, he did not mean what he said, he simply cares about you."

"It's not the first time, Marianne. Let's not pretend I mean half of what my mom meant to him."

"Marianne!" yelled the Colonel across the house. "Bring me the light so I can see where I'm stepping!" 

"Won't you let me take this boy to the couch first?" she shout.

"He's not going anywhere. But take too long and I'll end up on the floor like him!"

"Coming, coming!" She turned to Sally, raising a cloth to her eyes. "Dry your tears, girl. And after, start figuring out how to move this lad. I may not be the Colonel, but my back isn't what it used to be. Don't you dare tell him I said that."

Sally slipped a smirk.

"Marianne!"

"Yes, Colonel, on my way! Well, girl, get to it."

"And the light?" Sally asked.

"I'll be back in a moment, don't fret."

Marianne darted away, taking the candle with her. The hallway turned pitch black. Sally, after drying the last tears with her shirt, took her hand and began to feel around for the unconscious sailor lying on the floor. By misfortune, her hand landed right on top of his face–her ring and middle finger slipping into his mouth. Once she felt the warm wetness of his tongue, she yanked her hand up, grinding her fingers on his teeth. Both groaned simultaneously. He did not seem to wake up from it, meanwhile she took her hand and wiped it on his shirt. But it wasn't his shirt. He had left the top half of it unlaced since putting it back on from when he was in the garden. Her hand rubbed against his chest before once more she removed it in realizing her mistake. This time, her hand flew back forcefully at his jaw, hitting it in a way that made it chomp violently against the top row of his teeth, making a crack sound, as if it was a real nutcracker. 

His hands jolted up towards his face, and in the process, pulled Sally's arm down with them. She collapsed into a hugging position when he regained consciousness.

He spat the hair that itched his lips and nose. His right hand wiping it aside as his left caressed his jaw. Then he shifted it down to feel an odd absence in his chest, then felt instead a soft bulbous object that rested on it. Sally smacked him hard, this time intentionally. William yelped with pain and nearly threw her to the wall in self defense. 

"What are you doing, feeling up a lady like that?" said Sally.

"What the hell were you doing on me in the first place?!" he replied.

"I fell, what else do you think I'd be doing?"

"I don't know. I don't even know where I am. Did I make it to the Colonel's place, or did I stumble into the brothel again?"

Sally scoffed through the shadow. "Just for that, you can find your own way to the couch." She got up and stormed out of the room, not worrying about disturbing the Colonel upstairs.

"What couch?"

William groaned as he grabbed onto the invisible window sill to try and lift himself onto his feet, yet he mistook it for the lace-covered table and slipped back down onto the floor. Then he reached up again, this time grabbing the right thing, but once he got up on the sole of his second foot, the plant-water beneath him caused him to slip and slam back down, flat.

Marianne then appeared in the room. 

"Oh, I see you're awake. We didn't think you would be up so quickly. But you still need rest. Care to get yourself to the couch when you're ready? That'd give me a chance to get myself ready for bed," she grinned.

CHAPTER 3 - DAY BREAK

Sally stepped down the stairs with a spry pace. The whole house rattled at her descent.

"Careful, girl, or you'll fall and break that lovely nose you've got," said Marianne, hovering over popping eggs and steaming milk.

William watched as she came into view. Her golden hair bobbed with her aery night-gown that sat not too snuggly around her, hanging mostly by her bosom and shoulders. Her head was tilted down, but seemingly absent in the clouds rather than the final steps beneath her. Regardless, she landed on the ground floor stably, but without grace. Once again the house rattled beneath her.

"Sally!" Marianne exclaimed. Once the maid turned, a great gasp escaped her. "Sally Sanders, what in God's good Earth are you doing in your sleeping gown?!" 

She had forgotten about William's presence, and once she noticed him, she saw on his countenance that dumb face bachelor's tend to make. Unbothered, however, she pranced across the room with her arm aimed like a lance at the buttered bread displayed on the table. Marianne took a dish rag and veiled William–who had his hands occupied with ice to soothe the bulge on his head–before seizing Sally's hand.

"You will not be touching anything on this table until you get yourself into proper clothes," she said.

"But I always come down wearing these. What makes this time any different?"

"There's a stranger in the house, and we do not dress so vulgarly when there are strangers in the house!"

"What's the difference, you're all strangers to me, in a way."

Marianne gave her a hard look that said everything left to be said.

"Fine," Sally grimaced. She kicked the leg of the table and caused an apple to roll off onto the carpet. She picked it up and took a mean bite out of it. "But this doesn't count as being on the table." She turned then trudged up the steps.

William slowly lifted the rag just above his brow, catching a glimpse of her rear.

*Thud*, he winced at the jolt of pain.

"Keep your eyes down, sailor," scolded Marianne.

"Such welcoming hosts you all are," he said.

"You hardly count as a guest. As long as you're in this house, consider me your superior. Then the Colonel."

"And Sally? She seems like someone who can carry her own weight."

"The miss is out of bounds for the duration of your stay. You will say little more to her than good morning and good night, as long as I can maintain that the case. The only one who can say otherwise is the Colonel himself, and if you think I'm vile, you haven't met the likes of him."

"Oh, believe me, I've got an idea about him," he said, pressing the ice to his head.

"Speaking of which, here he comes now."

A figure faded into shape through the frosted glass of the door that was right of the stairs. The doorknob lowered, then the door swung in, revealing the Colonel, wearing what he was wearing the night before. Behind him was a fine mahogany table with an elaborate shield embossed at its front, and a black binded book splayed on top.

"Marianne, did you get a chance to fetch the girl's clothes yet?" he asked.

"No, Colonel. I will get to it after I do the laundry."

Paying no notice to William, he walked across the room to the amber armchair that sat opposite to the couch.

"By the way, when do you plan to share your journal, Colonel? (she said, back at the counter, arranging his breakfast on a tray.) The university sent another of their messengers to pressure you to finish." 

"And what did you tell them?" he said, resting his cane on the coffee table.

"Same as last time, 'The Colonel will deliver whenever he bloody pleases.'"

“Ha! Good woman!”

“Serves them right,” she continued. “They have no business meddling in your affairs. Though I must say, I am weary of how many more delays they will provide. It’s nearly the manuscript’s first anniversary.”

The Colonel clicked his tongue. “What does it matter? If they want it they will wait for it; if they don’t, then they won’t care when it comes. Eitherway, it’s not going anywhere.”

“Well, you’re not getting any younger…”

He rolled his eyes at her, and landed on the vagabond upon the couch. He paused for a moment as if recalling who he was.

“Mr. Taylor…”

“That’s right, Colonel,” William said poised.

“To me you look like a boy, so I’ll call you such. Pleasant sleep?”

William felt his temple still throbbing under the cold rag pressed against it. His back, too, had reason to complain.

“Very,” he said finally.

“Brilliant. I’m not going to allow you any more rest than is necessary, sailor. This isn’t a resort; rather a… an institute for growth. Thank you, Marianne,” he said as she placed his breakfast on the coffee table.

“I told you before and I’ll tell you again, Colonel, eating on this chair won’t do your back any favors as opposed to eating at the dining table,” she said.

“Marianne, don’t distract me.”

“Excuses, excuses,” she muttered.

“Colonel,” said William. “If I may be so frank: though I slept as gaily as a parrot on a carrot tree last eve, my legs are completely worn from last night's events. Plus, you must be familiar with the dizziness that comes with disembarking a ship after months at sea. I would assume that at least today I won’t be able to move off where I currently lay.”

The Colonel furrowed his brow. “I don’t appreciate you trying to fool me. But, of course, it is without your nature to respect anyone outside yourself.” The Colonel took a bite out of a ham sandwich. “I believe in your dizziness, you’re not a liar; at least not entirely. You are like a spider, though, catching others off-guard in your cleverness. Except soon you’ll recognize I am nothing you can snare,” he grinned.

William raised an eyebrow.

The Colonel took another bite of his sandwich. “Marianne,” he spat as he spoke. “Do you have the list for the boy?”

“What list?” she asked.

“The tasks I wrote up with the captain that came by the other day.”

“I don’t know, Colonel. You didn’t tell me about it.”

“Certainly I did, you must have forgotten. Remember you put it in the… Where was it you put it?”

“I’m telling you that wasn’t me, but I recall you two were discussing it here between the dining table and your office; then you took him up to see your battle trophies upstairs (William snickered at the thought). It's not on the table. See if you can find it in your office. I’ll check upstairs for you.”

Marianne dried her hands on her apron and removed it, hanging it on a chair. She marched upstairs whilst the Colonel carefully got up, traded his sandwich with his cane, and walked towards his office. 

“Don’t move,” he said to William before closing himself inside.

William listened to Marianne walking over the ceiling. The Colonel was sound proofed in his office. 

He removed the rag from his head, and placed the remaining ice on the coffee table with it; then he took a leap onto his feet, stretching and yawning unashamedly.

“That is a beautiful sandwich,” he said, picking up the Colonel’s leftovers and dunking them into his mouth. “One thing I can look forward to. Food.”

His eyes traced the fall of crumbs onto his chest, and noticed his shirt was not the same one he had last evening. Just thinking about yesterday hurt his head.

He began to explore the room. The walls were made of dark wood, but some were covered over with a warm yellow paisley wallpaper. He made his way around the mahogany coffee table and dropped into the Colonel’s armchair. He kicked his legs up and down, leaned one way then another, then frowned, saying “Too hard.” He shot up and walked about a little further, then traced his hand by the edge of the dining table with a depiction of the king and his royal navy in its center. He came upon a bowl of fruit and snatched a banana which he slipped into his pocket. He soon came to a wicker chair beneath a paned-glass window in the corner; flowery pillows were tied to the seat and the backrest. He threw himself onto it, causing it to rock so hard that it cracked against the wall. He laughed at himself, slowly coming to a halt. He began to nudge left and right on the chair, and pressed against the back, and rocked on his toes. “Too soft,” he groaned. He got up once more, and walked towards a coat rack by the entrance. Near it on the wall was hung the Colonel’s naval cocked hat. He put it on, then lifted his foot onto one of the dining chairs and made a grumpy face. “I’m the Colonel! Come see my trophies!” he chortled. He took off the hat and hung it back on the wall. He then saw the beanie Sally had on her hair last night. “What a strange girl. Could have sworn she was a boy.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say, is it?”

William turned and saw Sally with her arms crossed. She wore an apple-green dress and a red lace around her neck.

“Well, I didn’t mean it in a bad way necessarily. Could make a living out of it.”

“Oh, yeah? How is that?” she said.

“I can think of a few ways…” he smiled coyly.

Her jaw dropped, then she gathered herself.

“I don’t know how my father ever agreed to let you stay in this house,” she walked past him towards breakfast.

“He strikes me as a man with a big ego and not a lot to pour it out on.”

“Well, you’d be surprised,” she said, gathering bits of fruit, ham and bread.

William paused for a moment. “What’s that you said earlier, that we’re all strangers to you. Are you and the Colonel…?”

She turned to him. “What do you care? Talking to me isn’t gonna win you any favors. Better lie down again; pretend you’re sick. If I catch you snooping around again, I’ll rat you out and have you working twice as hard.”

William made his way back to the couch. Sally walked to the entrance.

“Where are you off to?” he asked.

“Going to retrieve my clothes,” she said, fiddling with her bergère hat. “They won’t notice I’m gone, but in case they do, say nothing,” she closed the door softly behind her.

William watched through the veiled window at her figure, stepping down the porch stairs and walking down the path to the street, pausing momentarily to look at the disaster of flowers by the fence, before continuing.

The Colonel’s office door opened wide. “All better, huh, boy?” he said. “Knew you couldn’t keep down for long. Though I have to impart the sad news that I did not find the tasks I wrote up for you.”

Marianne came down the stairs, saying, “I couldn’t find them either. Where could you have left them?”

“Don’t bother. They’ll turn up, like a rat on a ship. Meanwhile, I’ve got another task for the boy in mind. Marianne, you will stay out of the sun today. The good sailor here hasn’t had the chance to feel a good Caribbean sun like us more privileged folk. I’ll have him go retrieve Sally’s clothes and bring them back swiftly.”

“Already you’re letting him out of your sight? Are you sure that’s wise?”

The Colonel walked to an hourglass on the mantelpiece. “He will be going out, yes. But he will need to be back by the time this sand has run its course. (He turned to William:) That gives you thirty minutes, and the Gallins don’t live too near. Should get your legs more used to moving over solid ground.” He flipped the hourglass; sand began to flow. Marianne looked at the boy with concern.

“What happens if I don’t make it?” asked William.

“You can get comfortable with the couch.” 

That’s right, I haven’t even seen my room yet. Who are these people?

. . .

The next moment he was standing in the middle of the street. The sun eyed him contemptuously. Though he could not challenge its gaze, he was unbothered and unashamed. The Colonel didn’t know Sally was already on her way to retrieve her own clothes. All William had to do was pick up her trail and follow her to the Gallins’ home. But where had she gone? Past the ruined flowers, he remembered. He went down that same direction hurriedly so as to catch up to the girl, yet when he came at the next crossroads, it seemed she had already disappeared into the heat-hazed horizon.

William began to jog up and down each street, each time regressing more disgruntled than before. He began looking down at the dirt ground, trying to see if he could spot footsteps that could possibly be hers, but in making so many u-turns, he lost where he originally came from.

“Come on!” he hissed, kicking the fence of the nearest house.

A rottweiler suddenly leaped over it and tackled him to the ground, barking madness at his face.

“HELP!” he cried. “Get off you mutt! Stupid dog.”

He wrestled with the animal; a losing battle. He didn’t have a grip on it. Only his forearms locked in an X beneath its neck.   

Slobber gooped onto Billy’s chin and chest from fangs snapping just above his throat. Each bark blast louder and more consistently than the last, like a hangman’s drum beating down the seconds until the neck of the guilty was clasped.

“What have I done to deserve this?” he whimpered.

“Sailor!” said a voice.

“Yes? Here! Beneath this beast!” said Billy.

“Sailor, come here!”

“What? God, is that you speaking? Is it really my time? It’s too soon, I say, too soon!”

“Quit jabbering! Sailor, get off of him, will ya?”

The rottweiler seized its attack and stepped off Billy. Beyond it appeared a silhouette before the sun. 

“Sorry about that. Was just letting Sailor out to relieve himself when he saw you standing out here and I just don’t know what got into him. Doesn’t do that with everybody, though.”

It was a black woman, broad but mighty in appearance.

“Had a rough night yester-eve. Got lost chasing some vagabond on the streets, causing a ruckus for all the neighbors. There should be more constables on night duty, I say.”

“I say,” grumbled Billy in response.

“I’m Eunice, by the way. Sorry again for the inconvenience. Might I ask what you were doing out here in this scorching time of day?”

Billy got up slowly, grimacing at Sailor. Sailor grimacing back at Billy.

“You wouldn’t have seen a girl in a green dress passing by from your window there, would you? Blond hair; stinks of privilege?”

“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen her.”

“Ah, well, perfect. See you then.”

“Wait,” she said. “Perhaps Sailor can help you find her. Our owner takes him out hunting on the weekends. He’s really good at finding things.”

“I’ll take my chances,” said Billy.

“Hold on, let me show you. Sailor,” her voice turned gruff. “Now you listen here. You gonna sniff out a lady that passed by here, and you’re gonna take this good man to her, understand?”

The dog looked up, beady eyed. Billy watched as Eunice’s stare made it turn into a jelly of its former self.

“Hmph! He’ll listen,” she said at last. “Don’t worry about bringing him back; he knows his way, and he never misses dinner. Also will do him good to go on a walk, and me also. Lots more to do before the day is done.”

She turned towards the house and marched up to the door.

Billy glared down at Sailor. Sailor looked straight at Eunice as she retreated into their home.

“You’ll find the girl, trust me! He’s a good dog!”

As soon as the door closed, Sailor turned to Billy, growling.

“Oh shut it, you will do what she said; or do you want me to call her back out?”

Immediately, Sailor stopped.

“That’s what I thought. Hope you’re not worthless. Now, show me what you’ve got.”

Sailor began sniffing Billy from his feet to his groin.

“What is wrong with you! Oh, you were sniffing her on me?”

Sailor turned to the ground and began tracking her scent.

“It’s not what you think. I thought she was breaking in. Next thing I know she’s on top of me. And you know what? Now that I think about it, it was probably all your fault…”