While Elise was visiting Kapri, Captain Peanut Butter was on a journey of his own. Captain Peanut Butter will tell this portion of the story.

We had been raiding along the Spanish coast with little success. I decided to visit the García cottage near Santander to see if they had any new information about ships in port. Barrelhoop, Jonas, Pint, and Scar Arm came with me.

After exchanging pleasantries and sharing a meal, old man García told me there was nothing new to report, but he did have a letter for me from my brother. My family’s only way to contact me was through the Garcías. They would send letters, and old man García would set them aside until I came to visit.

The letter had arrived just the day before. When I opened it and began to read, my heart sank. My brother wrote that my mother had taken ill and I should come as soon as possible. It sounded serious.

I put the letter in my pocket and said, “Lads, we are sailing for France. I must visit my mother in all haste.”

Everyone stared.

“You heard the Cap’n. Get moving, swabs,” Barrelhoop shouted.

I thanked the Garcías again for their hospitality, and we started the trek back to The Jellyfish.

Once onboard and sailing, Barrelhoop approached me and said, “Is there anything I can do, Cap’n?”

“Yes. You will be acting Captain while I am away. I have no idea how long I will be. Raid if you get a chance or give the lads shore leave. I leave it to your discretion. Check the usual spot every Monday. I will return as soon as I can.”

“Aye, Cap’n. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t.”

Once we reached France, I traveled to my hometown of Vannes. When I saw the ramparts surrounding the city, I felt a wave of emotion. I had not been home in several years.

After my father was murdered in Jamaica, my mother returned to France and moved in with her sister’s family. She remarried a year later to a prosperous widowed shipper. But her new husband died of a fever shortly after the wedding. After losing two husbands tragically, my mother vowed never to remarry.

I walked past the towering Saint-Pierre Cathedral and thought of my father’s tiny one-room church in Port Royale. My mind went to the memory of my father being murdered in the street. I remember it hurt intensely then, but the pain was distant now. It had dulled with time. I did not relish the thought of losing another parent, but I steeled myself for the inevitability. For we all meet our Maker eventually.

I entered my mother’s house using the rear door. Although it was not known outside of my family that I was a pirate, I was not willing to take the chance that someone would recognize me entering her house. My sister, Brigitte, saw me and ran into my arms for an embrace. Tears flowed down her face, and I knew my mother would not be long for this world.

“My sweet, Brigitte. How I have missed you.”

“And I, you.”

“I came as soon as I received Marcel’s letter. How is Mama?”

“She grows weaker day by day. I fear it won’t be long.”

I hugged her again and tried to calm her.

Then I greeted my brother. Although my heart was filled with sadness, I was glad to see him again. I had always felt guilty that I wasn’t there for him when he was growing up. To be the man of the house. That fell to him far too young.

“Marcel, I am so happy to see you,” I said.

“And you, Brother,” he replied.

“How are Madeleine and the children?”

“They are well. Tending the farm in my absence.”

“Give them my love when you see them.”

“Of course. They will be sad they did not get to see you.”

“I must pay them a visit.”

“Please do. You are always welcome.”

“You are a fine and generous man, Marcel.”

“You should go see Mother.”

“Yes.”

I went into my mother’s room. She was lying on her bed and looked weak. When she recognized me, a smile lit up her face.

“My sweet boy, come sit with me and take my hand,” she said.

As I sat, tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Mama, I am so sorry. I have been an awful son. Please forgive me.”

“All was forgiven long ago. You followed your heart. That is all anyone can do. Now save your tears for when I am gone, and tell me what you have been doing since I last saw you. But first, get Brigitte and Marcel, so we can spend time as a family.”

We all sat around Mama’s bed, and I told the tale of an unusual Baron and his valet who I had befriended. I told of our adventures in Spain, Italy, and the New World. It was a joyous time I will always cherish.

The following day, my mother left this world of pain to join my father in eternal joy.

I spent the rest of the week arranging the funeral and comforting Brigitte and Marcel. Brigitte would be remaining in the house, which was a relief, as she steadfastly refused to marry. Perhaps the heartbreak my mother endured made her afraid of marriage. She was a strong, independent woman, but I would sleep easier if she had a husband. Marcel promised to check on her as often as he could. I vowed to do the same.