Lucien stood on the empty beach, his arms crossed over his chest, looking out into the abandoned sea. There wasn't a sail on the horizon as far as he could see—namely not the sail of his newly finished sloop. When the shipwright informed him the ship had gone missing, along with his two apprentices, Lucien stood stunned with disbelief. That girl and her friend stole his ship. His freedom.

Lucien didn't bother to tell Blackwater one of his apprentices was a she. If anything, that only piqued him more. Not because she was a woman, but because Lucien knew yesterday she was playing the shipwright for a fool and said nothing. Now she'd played him for a fool as well.

Governor Heydon graciously offered a vessel to hunt down the two pirates, embarrassed they'd gotten away so easily. The galley was getting ready to leave port on the other side of the island now. Lucien decided against going with them. The galley was a fine ship, but it'd never catch his sloop.

Pirates he thought, morbidly amused. They were hardly grown yet they'd pulled off the stunt without a single hew and cry. Neither of the guards had turned up and Lucien wondered absently if they were in on the piracy. Another thing he found curious (though he was loathe to team with the thug) was when it'd been suggested to set Captain Bartholomew on the pirate's trail, he was nowhere to be found. It seemed he also sailed from the island that night.

The pungent smell of sweat alerted him to someone approaching from behind. He turned his head slightly and caught a glimpse of the intruder.

The aggrieved shipwright stood nervously twisting his cap in his hands, the sun glistening off the sweat beading on his bald head. "The captain's sent word he'll sail within the hour. Are you sure you won't be going with 'em?"

"No." Lucien found even the idea of being a passenger rankled him. He should be sailing today with his own crew. "When can you start on another ship?"

"Another, Sir? Don't you be wanting the one I just built?"

"Of course I want it! But I will not wait here for the governor to catch those two sneaky thieves."

The shipwright looked to the ground, obviously ashamed of what his apprentices had done. "I'm sorry for it sir, I did'na know of their plans."

"If I believed you had you'd already be fitted for a noose! Now can you build the ship or not?" The older man winced and Lucien immediately regretted his harshness.

"I've another slated at the moment," he said apologetically, his head bowed. He looked up then, glancing around, as if to be sure no one was listening, and said, "If you could be patient, I'll start yours first thing next year. What with everyone pokin' around the shipyard, I don't want The Company getting too interested in me, you know what I mean?"

The Somers Isle Company (Somers Isle was another name for Bermuda), a group of proprietors who oversaw the running of the colony from London, enacted laws pertaining to the exporting of goods and the division of shipyards vs. plantations. Claiming restrictions were for the protection of the Bermudan Cedar, you needed a license to build ships, and these were rarely granted. Many suspected an ulterior motive of forcing the population to continue agriculture, from which they could collect a tax. But crops continually failed and Lucien wondered how much longer the people would put up with the Company's mandates.

They'd also put severe limitations on trade, only allowing exports on their own ship that came once a year, taking the goods to England. Often, what little crops colonist produced spoiled while waiting for that ship.

Shipbuilding was a far more dependable occupation and people would only tolerate the squeeze on trading so long before they had enough. But, for now, settlers tried to stay within the law for their livelihood.

To have to wait another year for a ship was too long by Lucien's way of thinking. Any later than two minutes from now was too late. He'd been so close to realizing his plans. It was simply unfair God would allow this to happen. People out there at this moment needed his help. How could he be patient? Lucien looked at the skeleton of another sloop under construction and turned on his heel to face Mr. Blackwater directly. "Who's this for? It's only fair I take precedence, since your apprentices deprived me of my ship."

The man gulped and wiped his brow. "If you please sir, technically the ship was in your possession when stolen. And my next customer, well, he..." the shipwright fell off, as if he were afraid to tell Lucien the rest.

"Out with it, man! I'll speak to the man at once and explain the urgency of my need. He's certain to acquiesce."

"Mr. Bellemare, sir."

"Yes? Go ahead. Who?"

"Mr. John Bellemare ordered that ship."

Lucien's mouth froze mid-word. He'd known nothing of his father's plans, though, now that he thought about it, they were nothing shocking. Many of his father's ships were lost the previous year and there was need to acquire replacements to continue the trade routes he'd established. The problem was, of all the people on the island, his father was the least likely to forgo his own needs for Lucien's ambitions.

Lucien let out an exasperated grunt as he realized something else.

He didn't have the funds to pay for another ship. He'd have to ask his father for a loan. And then his father would undoubtedly remind him that he and Lucien's mother had had to start from practically nothing to achieve their dream of owning a shipping business. No one had loaned them any money!

Lucien was jerked back to the present with a start as he realized the shipwright was speaking to him. "I beg your pardon sir, but it were right touching the way he admired the spects on your ship. He told me to start straight away on an exact copy. I have ta say myself it's a fine design—a ship equally suited for holding cargo and getting quickly from one port to another. Perfect for a merchant. It's not going to take as long to build either, since we've already got all the lines to work from."

A strong gust of wind broke over the beach and Lucien raked a hand through his hair to hold it back. He closed his eyes as the torrent blew over.

"I beg your pardon sir, but I really must be going." Mr. Blackwater did a fair impersonation of a respectful inclination of his head (as well as one could expect from a man with no neck), turned, and huffed back up the beach. Part way up he turned back long enough to say, "Thank you, for being so understanding, sir."

Lucien let out a long sigh as he paced the deserted shore, scrubbing at his face. Understanding was the least of what he felt.

Up the beach a flock of frigate birds took to the air, letting the air currents carry them effortlessly out to sea. Frigates were thieves too. They survived by stealing hard earned fish straight from the mouths of the birds who'd caught them.

Even so he envied them, journeying toward he knew not where, only that it was far away from here. His dream of independence was snatched away, after he'd waited so long for it. And waiting wasn't something he was good at.

When Lucien was a child Johnstone once joked, as punishment for taking a sweet before supper, he'd pray for God to teach Lucien patience. At the time Lucien thought he'd been getting off light. Now he understood better. The way to learn patience was through trial. Johnstone must've went ahead and prayed for that after all.

He plunked down into the sand and stared after the flock long after the last flicker of wings became specks in the sky. The fluke of a whale breached the water's surface in the distance and then disappeared with a splash. It, too, journeyed to some far-off place.

With eyes closed, Lucien lay back in the sand and listened to the endless lapping of the waves and the wind whistling by his ear, imagining he stood on the deck of his ship.

The sea would have to wait a little longer. Lucien looked forward to the day when he could ride the currents of wind and waves wherever they might take him. One corner of his lip turned up in a half smile as he hoped it might take him back to his ship and the young lady pirate who, despite feeling a healthy dose of ire toward, intrigued him beyond reason.

He absently fingered a seashell, rubbing his thumb over its polished underside as his thoughts wandered endlessly over various scenarios involving catching her.

Before that could happen, though, he'd have to speak with his father. Lucien's gut tightened at the mere thought. Why did he feel as if he were a child asking for a new toy because he'd broken the first?

He rose from his spot in the blushing sand and steeled himself for the encounter. Reaching around to dust off his backside, Lucien regretted ever taking a seat on the damp shore.

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Short chapter, sorry.

Is anyone actually reading this? I know its still relatively new in terms of posting chapters, but if people are actually reading this I'll update more frequently. Not being a story hostage taker where an author refuses to upload until they get this and that (I hate when people do that), just relatively curious.

ANYWAY,

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Til next time,

zuz x