As the twilight descended upon the somber estate of Bennett Hall, the coach, a dark and ponderous carriage with a dusky sheen, clattered into the foreboding courtyard. The damp chill of evening seemed to seep from the very stones of the ancient edifice as the Bennett family—Flora, Mrs. Bennett, and Henry Bennett—prepared for their departure from their ancestral home. Their parting was shadowed with a grave solemnity, as if the house itself bore witness to their exodus.

The admiral, an imposing figure in his weather-beaten greatcoat, stood upon the cold, flagstoned yard, his eyes scanning the gloom with a vigilant intensity. His countenance was grave as he addressed them in a gruff, yet oddly comforting tone.

"Farewell, admiral," Flora Bennett said, her voice trembling slightly in the frigid air.

"Goodbye," replied the admiral, his tone laden with an inscrutable gravity. "I trust the abode to which you are bound will be more to your liking. I fervently hope so."

Henry Bennett, his features set in a grim line, added, "I am confident we shall endeavor to find satisfaction there."

"Goodbye," echoed the admiral once more, his eyes narrowing as if he saw through the veils of time itself.

"Farewell, Admiral Bell," said Henry, extending his hand.

The admiral's gaze remained unwavering. "You remember your promises?"

"I do," Henry assured him. "Goodbye, Mr. Churchill."

"Goodbye," Mr. Churchill replied as he approached to bid them farewell. "I wish you a journey free of ill fortune. May your new abode bring you joy."

"Do you not accompany us?" Flora inquired, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Nay," Mr. Churchill responded, his voice tinged with an air of secrecy. "I have pressing matters to attend to. But fear not, our separation shall not be prolonged. Goodbye."

With the final farewells exchanged, the admiral closed the carriage door with a resonant thud, his voice cutting through the encroaching darkness. "Jack—Jack Pringle! Where the devil are you, you imbecile?"

"Here, sir," Jack Pringle answered, emerging from the shadowy recesses of the yard.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"What have you been about?" the admiral demanded.

"Just fetching some pigtail," Jack mumbled, "forgot it and couldn’t set sail without it."

"You dolt!" the admiral roared. "Did I not instruct you to mind your bearings?"

"Indeed, I shall," Jack retorted, "fore and aft, admiral."

The admiral, his lips curling into a concealed grin, responded, "Very well then."

As the coach trundled away into the encroaching gloom, the admiral, having secured the rooms of Bennett Hall with a final, decisive clink of the lock, turned to Mr. Churchill. "Now, Mr. Churchill, the stage is clear. Our adversaries have departed, and we are left alone."

"Yes," Mr. Churchill agreed, his gaze sweeping the dimly lit expanse of the hall. "And our reprieve is most welcome. The departure of the Bennetts is indeed a boon. We shall pursue our plans with renewed vigor."

"Aye," the admiral declared with steely resolve. "I shall engage these miscreants with the full measure of my resolve. I vow to meet them yard-arm to yard-arm, and make them feel the sting of true metal."

The coach, bearing the Bennetts on their uncertain journey, wound its way through the encroaching night. The road, obscured by the dense foliage and the gathering darkness, seemed to stretch endlessly before them. Flora, peering into the void, inquired of Jack Pringle, "Are we near our destination, or do we still have far to go?"

"Not much further, ma'am," Jack replied, his voice echoing with an unsettling calm. "The ship is on a steady course, no hazards ahead. Though, there is a landlubber aloft keeping watch."

His cryptic language left the family in uneasy silence. After an interminable span of time spent in the darkened carriage, Jack suddenly pulled the check-string with a sharp tug, halting the coach with a jarring lurch.

"All hands, drop anchor," Jack intoned with an air of finality. "We’re in port now."

As the coach door creaked open, the Bennetts emerged into the biting chill of the night. Before them lay a quaint garden and a picturesque cottage that seemed to rise from the mist like a phantom of a bygone era. An elderly woman awaited them, her countenance as inscrutable as the night.

"Up the garden path, if you please, ma'am," Jack instructed, his tone dismissive of any further inquiry. "The night air is too cold for lingering."

Flora and her family, heeding his directive, quickly made their way into the cottage. Inside, they were greeted by a surprisingly cozy abode. Though not luxurious, it provided all the necessary comforts and a few modest luxuries.

"This is very considerate of the admiral," Flora remarked, her voice softening with gratitude. "The place is quite charming, and the garden, while it cannot be used just now, is delightful."

Jack, who had reappeared after securing the garden gate, added with a hint of grim satisfaction, "Orders are orders. We must obey them, ma'am."

"Very well," Flora replied with a resigned smile. "I suppose we must."

"Jack Pringle, if you please," Jack said with a touch of formality. "My command is only temporary. I am not commissioned."

As the last of the evening's shadows receded, the Bennetts settled into their new, albeit temporary, quarters, their thoughts weighed down by the ominous and foreboding air that clung to the night. The distant echoes of their past and the dark uncertainties of their future seemed to intertwine in the depths of their new refuge.