Second on the Right (5 page)

Eileen!
The voice echoed in the wind,
shouting from every direction.
Time to grow up, Eileen!

Eileen's eyes flew open as she woke from her
nightmare. She was lying on her side in what looked like a dark and
damp jail cell. She stared at the inside of the black hull. She
concentrated on the sounds around her.
Am I still dreaming?
Hoping she was, she pinched herself to wake up. Nothing.

A steady thud sounded from above. Someone in
heavy boots was on the deck over her head. The sound grew louder as
it came down the stairs and towards her location. She squeezed her
eyes shut. She was extremely cold, tired, and sore. What she really
wanted was to curl up in her bed in her apartment.
I want to go
home
.

The sound of the boots stopped. There was a
deep clearing of a throat. Although the person who had arrived was
waiting or watching silently, Eileen could still hear his
breathing. Eventually, the clearing of the throat sounded
again.

"Miss?" said a deep gruff male voice from
behind her. "Time ye get up." There was a jingling sound as a key
was used to unlock the door. It squeaked open, but the man did not
move.

Realizing she was not going to wake up from
this dream any time soon, Eileen decided to make the best of her
situation. When she sat up, the room began to spin. Eileen felt
light-headed, and her eyes rolled back into her head. She felt an
arm keep her body from slumping back to the floor.

"Oh, no ya don't!" the voice snapped. The
edge of a bottle was placed on her lips. Liquid flowed into her
mouth. She struggled to push it away, but the bottle remained
firmly in place. The drink had a horrible, almost moldy taste to it
and felt like fire. Her eyes flew open, and she sprayed out what
was still in her mouth. Then she coughed.

Looking up, Eileen saw a striking man staring
down at her. His face quietly reflected a sense of maturity and
confidence. His eyes, a blue akin to the ocean, shone brightly. His
ragged beard and mustache partially hid the features of his mouth.
The man was impeccably dressed in a knee-length coat fitted with
gold buttons, a white long-sleeved shirt, blue vest, blue sash,
dark blue pants, and shin-high boots with folded brims. On his
head, he wore a large hat with blue feathers. His hand rested on
the hilt of a sword in its scabbard. Not believing her eyes, she
took another long look at this character.

After a few seconds of waiting, he asked,
"You have a name, missy?"

She nodded, quietly answering, "Eileen…Eileen
Davis. W-Where am I?"

"In th' brig. Welcome aboard the
Mistral
Thief
, Miss Davis."

She stared at him, unsure of what he had just
said.

He exhaled loudly. “Miss Davis, ye have
information I’d be much appreciative of. Where might I locate tha
treasure?”

She rubbed her temple and asked weakly,
“What?”

“I be a man of little patience. Ye know of a
treasure. Miss Davis!” he snapped.

"Ohhh," she moaned. "I'm going to be sick."
Waves of nausea came over her as the movement and sounds of the
ship, combined with the smell of its crew, hit her all at once.

"Can't be havin' that here. Up ya go," he
said, grabbing her roughly by the elbow and pulling her to her
feet.

The captain shouted orders and two men
suddenly appeared. One on either side of her, they led her
upstairs. As soon as she reached the rails, her nausea increased,
and she vomited over the side. When she finally stopped, she wiped
her mouth, sunk down, and leaned her back against the railing. She
closed her eyes and tried to ignore the swaying of the ship as it
moved up and down in the waves. The more she tried not to think of
it the more she thought of it and felt her nausea return.

After several hours of heaving, Eileen was
well enough to stand at the railing. She took in her surroundings.
She was confused by the sight, a boat with men dressed like
pirates. It seemed to her a scene from an amusement park ride. From
the crowd, one man approached her.

"Cap'n Benedict would like ta see ya, miss,"
he said.

She moved to follow him. A few steps away
from the railing, she nearly stumbled and turned to grab the wood.
Her legs splayed out underneath. The first mate grinned, took hold
of her, and led her to the captain's quarters. Once inside, she
stood by the door, holding onto the frame so as not to fall.
Sitting at the table, Captain Benedict gave Eileen a onceover.

“Smythe,” the captain said, nodding a
dismissal to his first mate who glanced at him before closing the
door. Eyebrow raised, Benedict studied Eileen, the woman who would
bring him treasure. She stared at the floor, hands tightly gripping
the wood.

This can't be her,
he thought.

"Sit.” He waved to a seat across the table
from him. Eileen attempted to walk over to the chair and nearly
lost her balance. Once more gripping the door frame, she made no
further attempts to move. Rolling his eyes and sighing deeply, his
boots hit the floor with a thud. The captain walked around the
table. He peeled her fingers from the door frame, wrapped them
around his arm, and led her to the chair.

"That'd be a good girl. Come now, let’s have
a seat, shall we?" he said in a patronizing voice. Her hand held
fast as she wobbled on unsure legs. When she took hold of his arm,
she squeezed. He noticed a hint of surprise in her eyes. As he led
her to a chair, he was amused to find her attempting to steal
glances at him.

His movements were quick and sure as he
circled back around to his own chair. The pair sat in awkward
silence. While he continued to study her face and body language,
she did everything possible to avoid eye contact. Her eyes finally
came to rest on the bottom edge of her shirt. She began to tug,
pull, and twist at a loose thread.

"Captain?" she asked timidly.

"Aye, that'd be me. Captain Benedict," he
replied, still not sure of what to make of her. He shifted his
weight, his chair creaked in protest. He tilted his head to one
side.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, in surprise.
"Captain…Benedict?" she asked.

“Aye. Captain Benedict,” he answered,
suspicion in his voice.

“Captain Robert Benedict,” she repeated, her
eyes darting back and forth as she looked down.

His eyebrow rose. With a leering glance in
her direction, he thought,
My reputation precedes me. How else
could she possible know my name?
"I do believe ye covered that
already," he replied.

"I know that name. Daria mentioned you, and
Captain Niles Davis, who I'm supposedly—" she waved off the
thought. She caught the surprised look on his face. "You’re the
pirate who tied fuses to the ends of his beard.” She beamed. The
unamused expression on his face forced her to look back down. “Or
not,” she answered timidly.

Daria
. Benedict was lost in
thought.

Silence lingered.

At last, Eileen gathered the courage to say,
“I don't understand. Are you one of the crew? I mean, of the
cruise? I don’t remember this being part of the itinerary." Her
brow furrowed and a frown came to her lips. Her fingers rubbed at
her eyes. “Pirates, well pirates like you, don’t exist anymore. Do
they honestly believe I would fall for this charade?"

"Don’t exist?” he asked, with a bemused smile
on his face. "And who'd be saying this?"

"I-I read it on the Internet…” Her voice
trailed off at the confused look on his face. "I may still have the
printout of it in my—"

Benedict observed Eileen as she circled in
her chair and searched the floor. He was beginning to wonder if she
might be mad. "Ye say ye have a what now?" he asked, not
recognizing the word “internet”.
What the hell does that even
mean? ‘In her net’?
Has she lost her mind?

"My jacket…where's my jacket? I have it in
there. I can show you if I can just find my jacket!" she replied as
she stood up. Her body began to sway. She grabbed the table to
steady herself, all the while repeating, "M-my jacket…need my
jacket…"

She is mad,
he thought, disappointment
coming over him.

She fell back in the chair. She noticed
Benedict eyeing her suspiciously. As tears began to form in her
eyes, a loud grumbling startled her. Eileen looked around for the
source. The captain grinned.

Benedict pushed a bowl of fruit in her
direction. "I think ye may be needin' this, Miss Davis."

For a fleeting moment she smiled, taking an
apple and thanking him. The first bite shattered the silence that
had again fallen between them. Wincing at the noise, she continued
to eat the apple in smaller, slower bites.

"Miss Davis," he chuckled. "No reason ta
bein' polite here. I'm sure ye must be hungry."

Eileen devoured the fruit, then reached for
another. She temporarily closed her eyes, a smile on her face. With
his encouragement, she ate her fill of the food he offered her:
apples, bread, and wine. Unfortunately, she was not accustomed to
alcohol and grew drowsy with each sip.

Benedict noticed her eyelids slowly close and
open as the wine took effect. Her body swayed back and forth with
the movement of the ship. She was most certainly drunk, which he
found interesting given the fact she had consumed only a partial
goblet of wine.

"This…this is a nice boat," Eileen said,
slurring her words.

"Ship," he said with a sigh, sounding as if
he were running out of patience. "She's a ship."

"A…boat— uh, ship…right. It’s a nice ship,"
she said with an air of confusion.

"Aye, she’s a fine ship," he replied, this
time with a proud smile as he looked around his quarters. His eyes
came to rest on Eileen.

"May I ask…what year is it?" Eileen's eyes
briefly widened, looking as if she were doing her best to focus on
the captain, only to have them close.

"Year? The year of Our Lord, 16—” he began to
answer, but stopped. He thought it was an odd question. Eileen
swayed; her eyes lost focus. Confirming the tell-tale signs of
intoxication, Captain Benedict decided to take full advantage of
this opportunity. Before the night was through, he would have all
of his questions answered.

“Miss Davis, again I say I be needin’
information. As ye are the possessor of such, I ask ye ta comply.
Where is it?” No sooner were the words out of his mouth that he
noticed her eyelids close completely. Her body swayed right off the
chair and onto the floor.

With a deep sigh and a roll of the eyes, he
picked up Eileen into his arms and placed her on his bed. Shaking
his head, he still couldn’t believe this was the woman the fortune
teller had spoken about. She had no apparent skills, lacked good
sea legs, and certainly could not hold her liquor. Was this more
punishment for his past crimes? Sitting back in his chair, he
placed his feet up on the table and slouched down. One of the many
things he hated was having to wait.

November 7, 2001: 11:35 am

After what he perceived was failure with
Eileen, James walked around the decks of the ship. Eventually he
found himself in the gym. His light jog turned into a full run on
the treadmill. The exercise was exactly what he needed to clear his
mind. Never-ending ideas swirled about, as if a pressure were
building inside. After an hour, he stood in the corner of the room,
stretching. Sweat dripped off his brow, stinging his eyes. He wiped
his forehead. Still, the anxiety he felt lingered.

James found his thoughts continually drifting
towards Eileen. Never had he been so smitten before by anyone. He
felt even more determined to win her attention, if not her
heart.

He strolled back to his cabin. Peeling off
his clothes, he stepped into a hot shower and let the water wash
over his head and down his face. His lecture was scheduled for
tomorrow; he needed to return to his notes and presentation. James
hoped the heat would cleanse his mind, but it only served to focus
his attention more on who he was trying to put aside: Eileen. The
more he thought of her, the more he convinced himself she was the
one.

He hastily wrapped a towel around his waist
and leaned his hands on the sink. A gold coin on a chain hung
around his neck, falling at mid-chest. With silence in the room,
only the occasion drip from the shower echoed against the walls.
Taking a deep breath, he wiped away the steam from the mirror and
stared at his reflection.
Was that a grey hair?
He frowned
at the thought. He was too young. He completed his cleaning regimen
and picked out a fresh set of clothes.

All the while he was dressing, James wondered
whether Eileen would show up to the party that evening. He had
asked her to come, but her reaction caused doubt. Throwing his head
back in exasperation, he had to smile at his ridiculous behavior.
He was acting like a boy going through puberty. It was killing him
that he could think of nothing else but her. His mobile phone rang,
interrupting his thoughts.