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It had been somewhere between two and three years since Thomas had been torn away from his loves, his heart being ripped out of his body and moved to places unknown, crushed and burned into cremains by the rueful boot of one Alfred Hamilton.
In these years Thomas had been moved to a plantation somewhere in the Americas, where at least his thoughts that were lit with sunlight were unable to stray far from his labour. However, when the moonlight touched his face through the window in his small room granted by Oglethorpe his thoughts would turn to times of London, times of red and brown hair colliding beautifully on the pillows beside him, times of being between the two people he loved most. And once Thomas had reached a peaceful state of being, a sound would come from his surroundings that would slam him back into the present, causing a shock to rip through his body. The present which consisted of stone walls and sheets on floors and the harsh, harsh sun. In the present he had the knowledge that one of his closest friends, Peter Ashe, had betrayed him, and the knowledge that Ashe had suffered nowhere near enough for his betrayal. But he also had knowledge that there was nothing he could do, and all he really wished was to be with his lovers again.
But currently he was not surrounded by fields of cane, or stone walls. He was surrounded by wooden walls set amongst the sunlight tipped waves of the Atlantic Ocean. If he closed his eyes and breathed in deep enough he could pretend that the salt in the air was merely from James’ hair and he was sitting on the wooden floor because Miranda and James were on the couch that he was about to lean against.
The rising and falling of the ship- the Penelope- that he was being sent to London on was surprisingly comforting considering what Thomas knew he was heading toward. His father had been murdered by Captain Flint, a pirate who had recently become a great concern, and Thomas was expected at the funeral. Now his father was dead; there had been nobody to pay Oglethorpe, as everyone else knew him as in Bethlem Royal Hospital.
He was dragged from his thoughts of London and what awaited him by the loud shouts of “Pirates!” from sailors above.
Thomas and the rest of the men he was sat with- slaves being moved from Savannah to England- all became flooded with fear, at the thought of what pirates would do to them if found. Thomas himself wondered if he would be held for ransom, and how he would explain that nobody would want him. Or if anybody would recognise him as Lord Hamilton at all.
When the shooting started the tension in the hold seemed to thicken and cloy within the air. It didn’t seem to last long, but died down slowly until the final gunshots all which sounded at the same time. Assuming that all the sailors where dead seemed a safe bet, which also made it a safe bet to assume that they would be next.
The hold was locked, but it wouldn’t take long for the pirates to get in. The slaves all looked around, terror apparent in their eyes. All of a sudden two voices came from outside the door, arguing.
“It’s this key”
“No, Logan, it’s this one”
“No, Billy, it’s obviously not, it doesn’t even fit in, nevermind turn.”
Then a third voice, “Oh shut up both of you.”
A gun cocked and a shot whistled through the air, blowing the door open.
All three men walked inside, one tall and broad, another slim and of standard height, and the third short and wide.
“Come on then. Up you get.” The shortest one said. “Billy, Logan, get these men’s chains off and then lead them up deck”
Both men grunted in response and moved to help the men.
“Gates, didn’t you say one of these lot were supposed to be important in England.” The slim man said, the wider man, presumably Gates, looked up.
“Yeah, It’ll be him.” Gates said pointing at Thomas. “I’ll take him up to the Captain and see what we can get for him. It’s strange that he’s in the hold though.”
Gates led Thomas up deck but Thomas was too busy thinking about what would happen when they tried to ransom him to his brothers to pay attention to what was happening around him. What should have been a familiar voice, predominantly an English accent but with a slight lilt of Irish if one knew where to listen, passed right over him.
Gates spoke up next to him, but Thomas kept his head down. “Flint, we’ve got an English lord here I believe, we could get a decent ransom for him depending on who he is.”
Thomas looked up as Gates finished his sentence to try to get a look at the man who was said to have killed his parents, in front of him was a man with short red hair, a decent length beard, and a black leather coat that seemed spread over his shoulders. But Thomas knew this man, he knew how his skin felt under his fingers, he knew that this man's freckles created constellations over his body, and he knew what it felt like to have this man between him and his wife. This was not the feared Captain Flint, this was James McGraw. He held himself tighter and straighter but this was James McGraw
“Get him on the Walrus, in my cabin.” James said, “I’ll come speak to him once I’m done here.”
Thomas let out a small gasp at hearing a voice that he thought forgotten.
“Capitan, if I may,” Thomas started. But he need not finish, James spun around, his face a picture of shock and confusion.
“Thomas.” He breathed.
~~~~~
The morning had started out as any on the ship for Captain Flint. He woke from his dreams of past times, tainted with the black ichor of his sins, the pain at leaving Miranda, and the blood of his lost love. He woke to shouts of “Sails” from above and rushed on deck to be greeted by Gates.
“That’s a sugar ship Captain,” Gates started. “But it potentially holds an English noble if I remember correctly. It’s coming from Savannah and we’ve all heard the rumours.”
Flint had heard the rumours, but he chose to ignore them. They gave him too much hope of an alive and breathing Thomas, when he knew that this hope would never become tangible, only a spectre in his dreams or out the corner of his eye.
“Right, well hopefully it is and we’ll get the sugar money and the ransom.” Flint began. “Once we’ve taken the ship, you, Billy, and Logan go down to the hold and see if you can figure out if there is someone and who it is. Then bring him to me.”
“Yessir.” Gates said.
Flint started shouting orders at his crew to ready for taking the ship.
It took them a few hours to catch up completely, and then another hour to have fully taken the ship, but once all the sailors were dead The Penelope was completely theirs.
Billy and Logan slipped away into the hold, with Gates following very close behind.
“Mr Dufresne!” Flint shouted, “I presume you have found the log books and are already becoming familiar with them.”
Dufresne walked over, lugging the books with him.
“Yes Captain, there does seem to be someone of importance in the hold, as Gates said. But it doesn’t say who, it is merely marked as AH, and separated from any other human cargo.”
Flint lent over the books with Mr Dufresne, trying to figure out how much sugar they had and how much they might be able to get for it from the Guthrie’s.
Gates soon returned, Flint could hear him along the deck, he was accompanied with another pair of feet that seemed to be shuffling.
“Flint, we’ve got an English lord here I believe, we could get a decent ransom for him depending on who he is.” Gates said, sounding incredibly sure of himself.
“Get him on the Walrus, in my cabin. I’ll come speak to him once I’m done here.”
Flint heard a small gasp from the prisoner with Gates, and assumed it was because he was about to be held for ransom by Captain Flint.
That was until he heard the prisoner speak.
“Captain, if I may.”
James knew that voice instantly, he hadn’t heard that voice for two years and eight months and had been so scared that he had forgotten it. But how could he. This voice was one he had heard whispered in his ear from next to him, had heard over the sleeping form of Miranda, had heard from across a room and had instantly felt better.
James didn’t want to turn around, he didn’t want this facade to fade away, didn’t want to turn around and find no blonde hair, round face, and sparkling blue eyes. But he had to. So he spun around and laid his eyes on his thought dead love for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
“Thomas.” It fell out of his mouth like the wind on the morning before he and Miranda were so cruelly ripped from his arms.
And then the waves rushed against the ship and the crew shouted and James remembered where he was, and who he was.
“I’ll take him Gates, you keep an eye on everyone else.” Flint turned to Mr Dufresne, “Make sure these books are fully examined. I want every single coin we can wring from this prize.”
With that James dragged Thomas off and over to the sides where The Walrus joined The Penelope. James placed his hands on Thomas’ waist to keep him steady walking over the plank and all of a sudden memories long forgotten rushed into each of their minds; steadying each other against a wall, dancing in the night with no music to accompany them, all three of them helping each other to bed.
Once on The Walrus they rushed to the Captain's cabins, barely making it before breaking down in each other's arms. They pushed into the small room and collapsed in on one another, whispering each other’s names, pushing their mouths together, wet with tears and disbelief. When they finally separated neither James nor Thomas wanted to completely let go, so they bundled one another into an embrace tighter than either had ever thought possible.
“How?” James whispered in confusion. “We were told you were dead. Peter Ashe sent us a letter telling us that you killed yourself in Bethlem.”
“I was never in Bethlem,” Thomas began. “I was taken to a ship that sent me to Savannah, to Oglethorpe’s. They looked after me, treated me more humanely than any prison or hospital would have, all for the cost of labour. As for Peter Ashe, he is the one who sold us out to my father, all in return for a little town and a grandfather clock.”
“Peter Ashe betrayed us? Peter who had sat in your salons and offered us all the help he could give in our plans for Nassau? He betrayed us to your father?”
Thomas nodded while James started to get angrier than he had ever seen before. His emotions became like a sea in the middle of a tropical storm, waves bouncing up and down all around, tipping over ships and destroying all around it. But still, he did not leave Thomas’ side.
“My love, do not anger at Ashe.” Thomas said “Yes he was the one who ripped you and Miranda from my arms, but he will suffer in time. And we are no longer separated, are we not?”
“Do not anger? Do not anger! He is the cause of these last year's pain. How am I not supposed to anger?” James said, keeping his voice low enough as to not be heard.
“The soul of a man harms itself,” Thomas began “when it turns away from another human being, or is even carried so far in opposition as to intend him harm- such is the case in the souls of those gripped by anger”
As the words of Marcus Aurelius once again tumbled from Thomas’ mouth James softened, the waves of anger slowed and became less destructive.
James threw himself onto the chair opposite Thomas, usually occupied by Gates.
“Now,” Thomas said, with an authority carrying his voice that reminded James of London, “Tell me about Miranda. How is my wife?”
~~~~~
They arrived in Nassau a day later, with only a few minor bumps along the road. The men on the ship hadn’t bothered Thomas while he was in the captain’s cabin or while he was walking around on deck. This last day had felt like heaven compared to the last three years, but Thomas’ heart still felt heavy.
At the shout of “LAND!” from a crew member Thomas’ heart rose once again and his stomach dropped in anticipation. Miranda, his beloved wife, was so close after being so far for so, so long. The once abstract island of Nassau started as a speck on the horizon, but had gotten closer and closer and bigger and bigger with every passing minute.
Thomas felt a warmth come to rest at his side. James. He turned his head to the man he loved and smiled brighter than the sun, brighter than he had thought would ever be possible again, it felt as if his face would split.
“Once we dock in the harbour,” the redhead began, his voice too low to be heard by anybody not directly next to him, “You will get off the ship and be taken to Guthrie's tavern. I need to finish off on the ship, I can’t just leave after the past days we’ve had. I’ll have a mutiny on my hands. I’ll meet you there in an hour or two and from there we’ll ride to Miranda.”
Thomas opened his mouth to protest, “But,”
“No, I know.” James said, “But if we don’t want to raise more suspicion, then we need to do this bit properly, if nothing else.”
Thomas nodded, only small, barely noticeable if one hadn’t known how to look for it.
When the time came Thomas was one of the first off of the ship, onto the first longboat, rowed by De Groot to the island and then directed to the Guthrie’s tavern. He was left outside an office while De Groot went in escorted by a young girl with blonde hair and light skin, and a dark skinned man with scars on his cheeks. A few moments and odd looks from patrons later Thomas was sent to a room upstairs and left alone.
With nothing left to take up his mind, the actions of the last few days seemed to catch up with him and allowed tiredness washed over him like a wave coming to shore. He laid down on the small bed provided and swiftly drifted into slumber.
Hours later he was shaken awake by the calloused hands of James, his posture more relaxed than ever on the ship, his hair falling from the band holding it back, and a soft smile on his face.
“Come on, my love, time to go see Miranda.” James said, his smile growing ever stronger.
Thomas scrambled to his feet, running his hands through his hair, and standing up straight.
“Ready!” Thomas seemed to shout, “Let’s go see our wife.”
The word ‘our’ made James’ heart lift and he felt as if it would drag him from the ground if he were to feel his stomach become full of static and warmth once more.
They were on a horse within minutes, James on the front and Thomas hanging onto his waist. Thomas let the wind stream through his hair as they sped toward the cabin that would soon hold his whole heart within its walls.
It seemed as if his body knew where they were heading, as they got closer and closer his blood felt as if electrified, his heart jumped to his throat, while his stomach dropped to his knees. The horse slowed and Thomas was ready to jump off the still moving horse and race toward the small cottage they had almost stopped in front of. Him and James seemed to dismount at the same time, James quickly tying up the horse while Thomas ran to the house.
He burst through the walls with a shout of “Miranda!” James following slowly, but no less excitedly, behind.
And there she was, divested of the silks and fabulous colours of their London days, but not in any way less beautiful. Her face in a picture of shock, her hair bundled into a flat spiral at the back of her head, and her dress seemingly drab when compared to the light Miranda herself gave off.
“Thomas?” She asked, “James?”
“Yes, my love.” James replied, Thomas stood stock still at the door.
“Tell me this isn’t another dream, tell me this is real, just once let it be real.” Miranda cried.
Thomas answered for himself, “It is real my dear.”
And they both seemed to start at the same time, rushing into one another’s arms, James soon to join them.
~~~~~
When John Silver was to join the crew years later, it was not just the Captain and his Witch he would be warned of. He would also be warned of the Warlock that had returned the Captains smile to his face. And then in later months when he and the Captain became ever closer he would get to meet this Witch and Warlock, and he would get to see his Captain leave the hard shell of a man that he presented around his crew, and become a loving husband to his spouses.
When John Silver had become Long John Silver and won a war alongside his Captain, the Witch, and the Warlock, he himself would fall in love, and have children. For years and years his children would ask to hear stories about the Witch and Warlock who had risen the feared Captain Flint from the sea to turn him upon England, and won.