Tides of deception ✺ Outlander/Stephen Bonnet Fanfic

♤29. Whispers in the fog 🌶

The morning fog hung thick and low as Stephen's ship cut through the final stretch of water leading to the London docks. The crew had been subdued since the incident, the air crackling with a lingering tension that not even the familiar sight of the port could ease. Stephen kept to himself as they approached, his gaze hard and unyielding, though a storm of thoughts brewed behind his eyes. He knew that once they docked, the rumors that had nearly torn his crew apart would finally settle-or ignite anew, depending on his next moves.

As the ship was secured and the crew gathered to unload their spoils, Stephen caught Declan's eye. He was still loyal, but even he couldn't mask the shadow of worry that lingered on his face since the attempted mutiny. Stephen could sense his quiet unease, though he knew Declan would never question him outright.

Leaving Maria with strict instructions to stay aboard with Declan, Stephen made his way through the bustling port toward the Royal Navy's headquarters to meet Bertie. Each step felt heavier than the last. His mind drifted, recalling the flashes of steel and cries in the night as O'Malley had riled up the crew. Justin had been pulled from his hammock and paraded as a scapegoat, the man's expression a mixture of bewilderment and dawning horror. And then there was Maria, tucked away in their cabin, watching everything through a crack in the window, her knuckles white as she gripped the sill.

By the time Stephen reached Bertie's quarters, he'd steeled himself, his expression as grim and guarded as a fortress.

✺

Inside Bertie's office, a fire crackled in the corner, giving off a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cold steel of Bertie's gaze as he assessed Stephen. Bertie, a tall man with a calculating stare, never missed a detail. His military coat was buttoned sharply up to his neck, medals gleaming in the firelight.

"Captain Bonnet," Bertie greeted, motioning for him to take a seat. "I trust your voyage was... fruitful?"

Stephen nodded and took the seat, his shoulders tense as he began. "The raid yielded the gold and prisoners as planned. But there was... an incident on board that forced my hand."

"Oh?" Bertie's eyebrow lifted, his gaze sharpening.

"A mutiny, led by O'Malley," Stephen replied, his voice low and hard. "A pair of prisoners we took spread rumors to disrupt the crew. They spun wild tales, whispered of dark curses, claiming I had brought a dangerous passenger aboard." His voice turned bitter. "The crew took it as fact. The chaos nearly cost me control of the ship."

Bertie leaned back, hands steepled in front of him, listening intently. "I see. And what did you do?"

Stephen's jaw tightened. "Had to execute O'Malley and another fool who raised a blade against me. My fear now is that the remaining men might scatter, taking their share and leaving me without enough hands for my next assignment."

Bertie studied him in silence, the weight of his gaze pressing down on Stephen. "Rumors can be more dangerous than powder and shot," he said at last. "And it seems you did what was necessary to retain order." He paused, his expression softening just a fraction. "This is why I chose you, Bonnet. Few captains have the stomach to keep control in the face of insurrection."

Stephen held his gaze, betraying nothing. But there was a tension in him, a slight stiffening at the praise-though he accepted it with a small nod.

"Here's what I'll do," Bertie continued, leaning forward. "You have a few months to regroup, before I'll call you back for another assignment. Should you need them, you may pull Royal Navy sailors to replace any of your own who choose to leave. They'll know discipline and, more importantly, loyalty to the crown."

A flicker of relief crossed Stephen's face, masked almost instantly. "Thank you, sir."

Bertie nodded. "Take the time to settle your crew, Bonnet. But remember, we have high expectations of you."