His words stir something, almost like a memory. There is no name for it, none that she can conjure. Being on this ship has caused her to see many things in different ways, to take chances she never would have dared to consider before. There was something – liberating – about being able to speak one’s mind, to ask questions that were perhaps too bold for polite company, and know that it would not be seen in a scandalous light.
Lines could still be crossed – there were always lines that could be crossed – but here, on this ship, Abigail could test the true limits of curiosity without fearing the loss of something intangible like a reputation or a good name. It wasn’t proper, perhaps – but what was proper among pirates?
“Is that why you became a pirate?” While her nerve remained strong enough, Abigail pushed on, “To escape suffering – or to cause it in turn?” She did not ask this to be cruel – rather, she wanted to understand more about the man Mrs Hamilton – or rather, Miss Barlow – had turned to in her hour of need. The man who had hunted down the Hamiltons – the man whose name was synonymous with so many terrible things, who in turn was both so terribly sad and kind despite his reputation.
Ocean Archive 