The three of them were silent as they left the bustling docks behind. Coyle halted briefly to ask someone the way to The Laughing Fox tavern. A few streets away, they stopped at a clapboard building with a sign sporting a fox hanging in front. The structure appeared to be much newer than the other buildings lining the street. It smelled of fresh pine and pitch.
Inside, it took a moment for Anne’s eyes to adjust to the dim interior after the brilliance of the afternoon sun outside. Sawdust covered the floor and a long wooden bar dominated one side of the room, its surface scratched and worn. Only a handful of patrons occupied the tables in The Laughing Fox. A single serving girl strolled through their ranks with large tankards of ale.
Coyle approached the barkeep while Anne and Cara remained by the front door. Anne did her best to ignore the looks of the curious patrons by keeping her eyes leveled on an area just above their heads. The men were rough, their clothing worn, and their hair grimy. They were mostly likely sailors and dockworkers.
“I’m looking for Alastair Flynn. Is he here?” Coyle asked.
The barkeep wiped a glass with a rag, but paused at Coyle’s question, his thick eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “Who’s asking?”
“My name’s Coyle Flynn. Alastair Flynn is my uncle.”
Nodding to the back of the room, the man continued with his task. “You’ll be wantin’ to speak with Beth. If she’s here, she’ll be in the back,” he said.
Anne took Cara’s hand as they followed Coyle toward the back. One man reached out and grabbed Cara around the waist. Yanking out of his grip, Cara turned on him, her face filled with disgust at the lecherous grin he gave her. The man laughed and reached for Cara again, but Anne grasped the man’s fingers and bent them back toward his arm.
“Unless you want to lose that hand, I suggest you keep it for sipping ale.”
The man’s eyes watered and he glared at Anne. “You stupid who—”
Coyle’s fist slammed into the man’s jaw, and he sank to the floor at Anne’s feet. His companion jumped up, clearly ready to come to his friend’s defense. Coyle turned on him, his shoulders squared and his fists clenched.
Anne watched each man closely, in case anyone pulled a blade. She’d spotted a tankard nearby and wouldn’t hesitate to use it.
A loud voice boomed above them. “Get out of here, Amos, before I tear you apart myself.”
The man struggled to his feet, the cheeks on his crimson face shaking. “You’ve never had a problem with me before, Alastair,” Amos cried.
“That’s not true, you dirty bounder. I’ve told you to keep your hands to yourself while you’re in my tavern. This was your last chance.” Alastair crossed his thick arms over his broad chest. To Anne, he looked like an older version of Coyle, with the same smattering of dark freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. The wood creaked beneath his feet as he descended the steps.
Glaring at the stern expression on Alastair’s face, Amos must have thought better of arguing with him. He shot one last surly look at Cara, and headed to the door, his friend following on his heels.
Anne exhaled in relief as Alastair wrapped Cara and Coyle in his arms.
Cara’s face relaxed somewhat and Anne could not help a twinge of envy. She longed for a connection with another family member; unsure if any still lived, Anne worried such a relationship was impossible. Feeling out of place, Anne clasped and unclasped her hands nervously.
“You’re grown into a beauty, Cara Flynn. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to have you and your brother come stay with me,” Alastair said.
“After what we just saw, I’m not sure I would have made this trip,” Cara muttered.
“What happened?”
Cara shuddered. “There was a fight near the docks. Someone pulled a knife and . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Unless you have an escort, stay away from the docks,” Alastair said, his expression fierce.
“It’s rather hard to avoid the docks when you arrive on a ship,” Cara pointed out.
“And here I’d hoped the years had softened the sharp side of your tongue. No matter. You’ll be safe as long as you’re with me.” Alastair turned to give Coyle an appraising look. “Have you looked after your sister?”
“As much as anyone can look after Cara,” Coyle said. “She doesn’t listen to a thing I say. Maybe you can do a better job keeping her in line.”
Cara shrugged. “I didn’t get into any trouble on the ship. After all, I had Anne to keep me company.”
Alastair glanced at Anne standing back from the group. Despite his intimidating appearance, kindness flashed in his eyes.
Cara linked her arm with Anne’s and pulled her forward. “Uncle, this is Anne Barrett. Anne, this is our uncle, Alastair Flynn.”
“Pleased to meet you, Anne. What brings you to Nassau?”
“She needs a place to stay,” Cara said, before Anne could respond. “And a place to work. I told her you wouldn’t mind employing her.”
Anne flushed, wondering how Alastair would react to Cara’s generosity. It was one thing for Cara to make the offer. It was quite another for Alastair to follow through with it. His smile, however, put her at ease.
“Anyone who can manage to keep Cara out of trouble for an extended period of time has my respect and approval,” Alastair said.
Anne answered with a slight smile of her own. “On the contrary. It was Cara and Coyle who came to my aid. If it hadn’t been for them, I’m afraid my passage from England would have been much different.” Her smile faded and she shivered at the thought of the Providence.
Cara gave Anne a comforting squeeze, while Coyle took a deep breath. “Uncle, I hate to cut our reunion short, but we’re in need of some help. We believe a merchantman was attacked not far from shore.”
Alastair’s jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. “When did this happen.”
“Two days ago,” Anne said. “The ship was the Deliverance, the largest of its kind ever built.”
“You were supposed to travel on the Deliverance. What happened to the money I sent you?” Alastair asked.
Cara blushed and Coyle shot her a dark look. “Cara took a liking to someone on the way from Donegal to Bristol.”
“I didn’t know he would rob us,” Cara cried, looking like a guilty child caught in an act of mischief.
“You should know better than to trust a pretty face.”
“He wasn’t all that pretty once you were finished with him, now was he, brother dear?”
Rolling his eyes, Coyle took a deep breath. “I recovered what I could from the money, but I wasn’t able to get all of it. Once we reached Bristol, we discovered the only ship we could afford passage on was the Providence.”
Alastair nodded. “I thought you were a mite early. So you think the Deliverance was attacked?”
“I do. Two ships approached it as we sailed away,” Anne said, as Alastair pursed his lips.
“There was some talk of having an escort sent out to greet it,” Alastair said.
Cara looked hopeful. “Perhaps those were the ships we saw.”