Wherever Abigail was, she was in the back storage room, where one would place their goods and other productivity. Crates placed in the small room, stacked upon each other, but left an easy walkway for one to enter the main area ahead. The tavern was medium-sized; there appeared to be two parts of the structure: the main area for customers, with a bar next to the entrance of the storage room, and a set of stairs that lead to the top level of another room. If one was wise, the owner, and the other head merchants were the only ones allowed to venture up there. Personally, that's where they would have meetings in an isolated room, discussing the stats of the port's trade market. The bar was just below that room, in the main area. 

The place was mainly built with wood, and a few spots that had some spots of polish to it, with a few candlelights being the only light source to this day and age, so the room had a gentle glow of dimmed light surrounding it, reflecting off some of the residing people within. 

Mister Meeks was sitting at one of the tables by himself; a mug before him, and bleakly staring at it. He hoped that what he just did was good enough, and that the quartermaster might see fit to protect some of the men. But, unaware of his captain's entrance, along with a few of his men, Meeks stayed firm in his seat. One of the men, the boatswain silently laid a hand on his shoulder in greeting, before sitting next to him, but not before Ned appeared on the opposite side. "How awkward this is", that Irish tongue spoke, albeit in a very casual way. "Mister Holmes here informed me that he observed you in this place, very nervously entering Eleanor Guthrie's office. I told myself 'What on Earth could Mister Meeks have to say to her?'. Now I'm forced to wonder if it stems from your concerns about my fitness. Seeking an ally, perhaps, to threaten my position as Captain", he said, mainly to foretell about his thoughts of the recent report. 

Even after he heard all this, Meeks firmly kept his ground, staying calm. "I swore an oath to those men. To protect them from their captain. From themselves when called for", he responded, wavering the last part towards the standing, slender boatswain on his left side, seemingly not regretting his decision. "I see", Ned neutrally said, not looking at him, but somewhat blankly looking into space. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps you serve them best by betraying me in this moment", he seemed to sound pleased to hear the truth, but deep-down, the captain didn't take it to heart, like always. "Although, perhaps this is just an act of a spineless traitor, who might have something to do with my missing prize", he added as an afterthought. "In which case", he reached to the right side of his waist; dagger making itself known, he placed it on the surface of the table. "I have the duty to do something about it", there was a slight amount of fear creeping up on Meeks. He attempted to stand up, but the boatswain on his other side, sat him back down again, preventing him from moving. 

A bang was heard, a clatter. Then, there was grunting, sounding like a struggle. The noise caught the attention of other buccaneers, and civilians. No children, but just women and men, alike. The next thing heard was a yell, and then screaming. Screams of agony, if one heard clearly. From a separate room, connected to the main room, emerged a beautiful Caucasian woman with pinned-up, beach-blonde hair, as well as some of its strands had framed her face. She looked to be in her late-twenties, with green-blue eyes, and nude, pink lips. She had a long, elegant, brown skirt, a constricting belt holding it up, and a white shirt rolled upon her forearms. Behind her, followed a man; a tall one, leonine, with an almost-barbarian look about him; his long, dark-brown hair emphasizing it, as well as his narrow, feline-like eyes, sharp face, and bar-fight nose, looking to be in his late thirties. These two individuals were [url=https://youtu.be/MhRYPc8U3v0]Eleanor Guthrie[/url] and [url=https://youtu.be/eIFuagDQGLc]Charles Vane[/url]. "'The hell's going on here?", the English woman demanded, but didn't get any closer to the scene before her, already petrified at what was before her. The man behind her didn't feel the same, but showed transparent disbelief.