 A float with Henry Morgan. Dolores has deceived everyone. No one has the slightest suspicion that she is not Antoinette de Lacy, kin's woman of the governor of Jamaica, Sir Thomas Motford. She also has seen the fabulous Aztec Necklet. Kitty discovers that she is really in love with Jeffrey Hunter. She glows to the flying gull the next evening to tell him. Jeffrey, who is lonely, listens to her and accepts the comfort she brings. The next evening at the Dolphin Tavern, Kitty, who bears the marks of a whipping given to her for leaving the tavern the previous evening, tells Diets that she no longer loves him. Diets threatens to steal the Aztec Necklet and from the proceeds through selling it, buy Kitty for himself. No, that you couldn't do. I can and I will. You are a bond woman, a slave sent out from England to be bought in the market places necessary. Anyone who has the prize can buy you. I'll not come to you, do you hear me? You will have no choice because no matter what prize I make jobs and once for you, I'll be able to get it for the next. I wouldn't come. You would have no choice. By law you would be mine. And that is what I would do rather than have you go to this Englishman. And when you are mine, let me warn you that should any other man try to steal you. If he's within on my right to kill him because he is trying to steal my property. I can't help it if I have no feelings for you. I tried to be loyal to you, but you knew I was not even successful at doing that and now I have no feelings for you at all. You are thought to make a fool out of me, to make me the laughing stock of Potter Isle. You are not think the others will chuckle in their beards when they know you are throwing me aside for this pacifist Englishman? You must think I am a fool if you think I allow you to cast me aside like this. I am going to keep you by possession, Miss Messes. But I'll come to hate you. Then do not force me to do this thing. Come, let me assure you how to forget this Englishman. No, I don't want you to touch me. Oh, this is such foolishness. You will let me make you forget him, eh? My wrist, my wrist. Look up into my face. Yeah, hear me, look up. No, I will not. Leave go of me, you swine. You have no right to lay your hands on me. Help! Help you in the tavern, help! Like a hot knife cutting through ice, kitty's scream flashes to the furthest corners of the smoke-laden tavern. It talks the babble, the oaths and coarse voices. It seems to hang suspended, cutting off all sound, and the tavern for a moment is still unearthly quiet. Brawls and fights are no uncommon occurrences in the dolphin tavern. Men's voices have frequently been raised in anger and sometimes in pain. Yet never before have the low rafters flung back the scream of a woman. There is only one voice from which that scream could come, kitty, the friend of all those from every corner of the Caribbean. Like a surge of an angry rising tide, the men leave their drinks, their tables and their companions, and jostle to the alcove whence came the sound. Get away out of here! Leave this to me! Angrily, dears turn towards the sullen, brutal faces of the mother. Kitty, knowing the uncertainty of their tempers, their love of a fight to the kill, prays to a patron's sate that no harm will follow her foolish appeal for help. Tempers become frayed as those behind jostle and elbow to force their way to the front. The crowd seems to swell and sway like an ocean sea, and then suddenly from behind, an unknown hand reaches out and grabs a bottle. It splinters its fragments behind dears' head, the liquid spreading and running like blood on the wall. As though the bursting bottle is a secret pre-arranged signal, bedlam breaks loose, knives are drawn, odes and vile curses snarl upon the air, tables crash and crumble beneath the weight of fighting men. Bottles fall and smash, leaving their slippery smears upon the dirty floor. There is no reason for the fight, except that the screamers loosen their lust to kill and destroy. Terrified, kitty crutches in a corner, watching the destruction of material and men. And somewhere amongst the screaming, cursing, tangle of arms and legs and bodies is dears, for he was the first drawn into the fight. In the distance, safe from harm, stands Bolega Jobson, alternatively wringing his hands and tearing his head at the destruction of his tavern. Then, when there are no more tables, chairs or bottles to be broken, and only a few heads left to crack, it all stops. There suddenly is it again, and those who are able to walk go roistering out into the night, taking with them a badly beaten but still conscious dears. Litter and complete destruction is left inside, and amongst the wreckage lie the dead and the wounded. The blood from their wounds mingles with the liquor on the floor. White and shaken, unable to believe that she has not been harmed, kitty comes from the corner, almost bereft of speech. Bolega Jobson looks at her, cracks his hands. Two black slaves come out from the rear of the tavern and stand beside him, their eyes wide as they stare at the cottage. You irish witch, look what you've done. No, Mr. Jobson, it wasn't my fault. Look at the destruction your fine heirs and graces have brought. You are in this tavern to amuse my customers. First of all, you run away for a night, and then you stand them and incite them to destroy. You must be taught that you are no better than a black slave. No, not another within, please. The beauty of kitty and fear would move any man. Except the one whose possessions are destroyed. With a nod to the two negroes, Jobson leaves. In the small square box-littered rubbish-filled yard at the back of the dolphin tavern, the flaming torches stuck in brackets around the stone walls cast a yellow swinging light over a barbaric scene. Kitty, her back bare and showing in this strange light an ugly criss-cross of rising red wheels, has her wrists slashed high above her head to a pole. One of the black slaves is coiling a thin, long black whip while his companion examines their handiwork. He is proud of it. No skin has been broken. To do that would endanger his own skin. For Jobson knows that Kitty's greatest value lies in her unblemished loveliness. With a sharp knife he cuts her from the pole, and without another look they both leave her sobbing upon the ground. News of wars, riots and rebels travels fast, and the cause of the evening's disturbance soon reaches the flying gull and has learned out by Hunter. He waits, watching the bedraggled bruised men come aboard, looking for one man in particular. No, don't go aboard yet, Diets. No one know where to leave you tonight, Hunter. We are not going to have many words. Leave me be. Can't you see I've had enough tonight? I can hardly walk. I want to get aboard ship and get some of this. You will never go aboard the flying gull again, Diets. I've heard about your little expert tonight, and it's time you learnt that when a woman tells you to leave her alone, she means it. And as you have not learnt that lesson yet, then you will now. I am going aboard the ship. You'll just try and stop me. I will. And if you can't swim now, it's time for you to learn. Oh, it is right glad I am to see you, Jeffrey. But what are you doing here at the Dorothyan Tavern at this time of day? I've come to see you, of course. Oh, Jeffrey, grand to hear you say that. I heard about the affair of last night. Oh, look at the tavern they wrecked it. It was just an excuse for them to have a fight among themselves, and I got the blame for it. You won't be having any more trouble from Diets, Kitty. Unless he can swim, he's been drowned in the harbor of Port Royal. Why, how do you mean? I hit him rather hard when he came back to the ship last night, didn't he? He tumbled over the quiescent. You won't need to worry about him anymore. Oh, don't touch my shoulder, Jeffrey. Why, what's this? I see long, thin, black bruises. Oh, poor legged job, son. He blamed me for last night, and I got another whipping. His two black slaves are very expert with the whip. He had you beaten by two black slaves? Yes. What is this world we live in where men are able to treat women and their fellow men like cattle beasts to the field? Oh, he has every right to treat me as he will. You see, I'm only a convict servant, no better than a slave. I'm his property. I belong to him. What a pile. How can I get you away from here? Oh, you're very sweet. But you'd have to buy me. And my price would be too high that I know. Far too high for even you to do it. No, just come and see me, and let me be near you sometimes, Jeffrey, and I can put up with anything else. You've been so good to me, Kitty. I would like to do more than that. You can't. There's nothing you can do, and now, Jeffrey, you'd better go. There's all this mess, and I've got to get it cleaned up. All right, Kitty. And I'll be back tonight to see you. Well, I am honoured, Sir Thomas, that you and Mamazelle Antoinette are paying me a visit aboard the Flying Gull. I will be brief and to the point. I've just come back from the assembly, Morgan. Oh, indeed, yes. The affair of the Dolphin Tavern last night, and members of the assembly are very upset. I understand that one of your men started all the trouble. Yes. So I have heard. Well, I want to give you a warning, Morgan. The assembly is thinking of closing the Dolphin Tavern. It's an unsavory reputation, and last night's exhibition almost closed its doors for good. Now, should there be any further disturbance in their quarter, the Dolphin Tavern will close. So warn your men, Morgan. I shall, and have no fears the man who was responsible has been dealt with by my Mr. Hunter. He will not come aboard this ship again. Good. I'm glad to hear it. Come, Antoinette. I must hurry to keep an appointment. Goodbye, Captain Morgan. Oh, you have not forgotten our dinner appointment. Not at all, ma'am, sir. Allow me to accompany you to the quayside. Thank you. And tell me, Captain, have you managed to persuade Mr. Hunter to come with you to dinner? Well, to tell the truth, I've not tried again. But if you really want to see him, well, I'll see if I can persuade him to come. I really would like you to, Captain Morgan. Oh, look, Uncle Thomas, he has gone on ahead. I must hurry and catch him up. See, he is waiting for me in the carriage. I hope to see you with Mr. Hunter at our dining table before very long. Goodbye, Captain Morgan. Goodbye, ma'am, sir. Not so quickly, please. Who are you looking in the shadow of that building? I have been watching you, ma'am, sir, Antoinette Bellessie. And now I have seen you somewhere before. And now I know where it was. All of Delore's plans are in danger. If Beats really knows her identity. Hear the sequel of this meeting in the next episode of A Float with Henry Morgan.