“What’ll it be sailor boy?”
The woman asking for his order grinned at him, he quickly became aware of her missing teeth, and garlic laced breath. She was of mixed race, but her age, he would not be able to guess. Sloppy in her manner of standing, dressing and caring for herself, her hair looked as if she had not brushed it since her mother stopped.
Wentworth tried to breathe shallow as he ordered ale and pointed to a table as far from her as he could find, “I’ll have my beverage served there, please.”
The woman’s laugh was a cackle, “And there it will be served, if’n you please, sir.”
She moved to fill his order as he walked to the table. He hesitated long enough to swipe the crumbs aside before he sat down. He was barely seated, when the woman approached with his mug. He paid her and she left without comment.
Almost before her shadow cleared the table, a man stood over him. Wentworth looked up and beheld, possibly, the largest man he had ever seen.
He appeared to be a Spaniard and he leaned on the table using his knuckles for support. His fists were scarred and tattoos ran over the knuckles, but leaning on them as he was, Wentworth could not read the inscriptions. His forearms were thick with muscle and heavy with ink, his upper arms were the size of most men’s legs, and the ink continued. In fact, ink covered most of the skin he exposed. Wentworth was familiar with tribal markings, but he did not understand their meanings. This man was marked from his chest upward to his jaw line.
When he spoke, the man’s breath carried the odor of rum drink and spittle; both, Wentworth fought to ignore.
“My name is Cabello (Ka-by-o). It is Spanish for…”
“It is Spanish for horse and you wear the name proudly.”
The Spaniard looked at Wentworth and the Captain could see he was trying to decide if the comment was an insult of not.
Wentworth helped him decide, “You are a large man, as large as some horses I have seen.”
The giant grinned, “Si’ you are correct. I am as big as a horse. You are called?”
“I am called Wentworth, Captain Wentworth of the Royal Navy.”
“Why are you here?”
“I’m here looking for a crew of good men.”
The man, being Spanish had a dark complexion, but the comment forced his skin tone a few shades deeper.
“You will not press men into service in this pub.”
“I do not intend to press men anywhere, I want only volunteers.”
Cabello rose to his full height and Wentworth guessed it to be somewhere around six and a half feet. He would weigh some three hundred pounds. Wentworth was impressed, as the man had no fat on him.
Author: Kwen D. Griffeth
Genre: Jane Austen Fanfiction / Romance
Jane Austen completed “Persuasion” in August 1816. It was to be her last book. She left us with the story of Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth and she left them approaching “happily ever after.” What happens the day following “happily ever after?”
The story of Kellynch picks up three years after the couple married and were able to secure the Kellynch estate from Sir Walter and Cousin William Elliot agreed to waive the entailment.
It would seem all is well with the young couple, but all is not as it seems.
Kellynch is a story of deceit and treachery as well as courage and overcoming the odds. It is a story in which those who were assumed to be friends are not and where support comes from unexpected places. Love again, will, be tested in a story set against the backdrop of historical events.
Throughout the book, I have tried to remain true to the characters as Miss Austen created them. I sought to develop and introduce new characters that would meet with her approval.
When describing my life, I think Douglas Adams said it best, “I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I have ended up where I needed to be.”
Books have always been a large part of my meandering.
I grew up on a ranch in southeastern Idaho and my friends were a mixed and rowdy bunch. Louis L’Amour told me tales of the west, but Edgar Rice Burroughs took me to the jungles of Africa. Sir Author Conan Doyle walked with me through the fog-covered streets of London, and Jane Austen taught me to be a gentleman.
I read several other authors but I was fourteen when I met the man. Sitting in an English class, I chose a book from a required reading list and I was introduced to Ernest Hemingway. His book, “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” allowed Mister Hemingway, Robert Jordan, and I to fight in the Spanish Civil War and I never left Idaho. When I closed the back cover, I knew that no matter whatever else I did, I would be a writer. Even today, when I think back, I am still in awe of how Hemingway’s words touched the soul of an adolescent boy.
I entered the Army a year after high school and stayed in uniform for the next two decades. The military offered me the opportunity to live my own adventures separate from the ones I lived vicariously in books. While in uniform, I worked in a variety of fields, Infantry, Military Police, and Military Intelligence. I worked on a psychiatric ward and later at a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center. I took trips to Mexico, Canada, and twice to Germany. I have visited the forty-eight contiguous states and desperately want to see the other two.
Along the way, I met and kept printed friends Allister Maclean, Robert Ludlow, John Grisham, and Tom Clancy. I had flings with several others, Joseph Wambaugh, Clive Cussler, and Stephen King.
I started to write and failed. Repeatedly, I would start a story, only to end it and discard it as it sounded too much like the works of one of my friends. I went through periods when I refused to read, because I was frustrated and angry with those friends. Those friends who were what I wanted to be.
Fifteen years ago, I got sick. I got sick and it was misdiagnosed. I almost died, but then I met the doctor who figured out the riddle and, with his help, I started working my way back. As I got better and my brain got stronger, stories, characters, and plots started to form. I found my voice and I published my first book, a novella called “Dear Emma,” in February 2012.
I used to feel strange telling people, “I got better and now I hear voices,” but the statement is accurate. I feel I am in good company as several authors have made such references. As I said at the beginning, I am exactly where I need to be.