by Lee Rowan
“Thank you, Davy,” he said when he got his breath back. “I do appreciate—”
“It’s no more than you’ve done for me. Much less.” Even though he’d accomplished his objective, Archer looked like he was on his way to a funeral. “I know I once said this would never happen,” he said hollowly. “I wish I’d not been so damnably wrong.” He pushed the plate over and retrieved mugs of tea from just inside the door. “I should have….” He shook his head.
Marshall had no notion why his friend was indulging in self-recrimination. “You weren’t holding the stick, Davy. You weren’t giving the orders. And unless you’re some kind of twisted Machiavelli who thrives on discomfort, you certainly didn’t have us abducted.”
Archer smiled, though it appeared to take some effort. “If I had, I would’ve hired someone else to do the job.”
“I believe I can guess why he wants that list of prizes,” Marshall said. He bit into one of his eggs and realized he was starving. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this last night, but I’ll wager he’s trying to decide how high to set the Captain’s ransom. Which really makes me wonder if this wasn’t a very sudden decision—a change of plan.”
“Do you think he intended to abduct someone else?”
“It would make more sense, Davy. This abduction ran as smoothly as a military exercise—it must have taken time to plan and prepare. He couldn’t have had more than a day’s notice we were coming—not time enough to have things organized so thoroughly. Put yourself in his place.”
Archer grimaced. “No thank you.”
“I’m serious. Suppose he was preparing to abduct someone—all kinds of people go through Portsmouth—and then he learned that the Navy’s hunters had caught a fat prize and were bringing in three more ships. Even if he only asked for Captain Smith’s share of the five ships we captured this time, he could probably retire.”
“That does make sense,” Archer said. “If we had tackled the door of that carriage just a minute sooner, the attempt would have failed. But if he’d only been expecting one person, and that one not used to battle—”
“Exactly.”
“But how does that help us?”
“I don’t know,” Marshall admitted. “Not yet.” He shifted his shoulders a bit, finding the limits of movement and forcing himself past them. “We can’t know what information will be useful in the long run, but the more we know or can guess about our enemy, the better chance we have of beating him.” Archer had cleaned his plate, which reminded him of something else. “Davy, is there anything more you remember from yesterday?”
Archer put the dish down, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“Any details, no matter how small. For instance, what does the bolt on the outside of this door look like? It was wide open last night, and when they first brought us in; I didn’t see the design. If there were no one on guard to stop us, do you think we could get it open?”
“Oh.” Archer closed his eyes briefly. “There are two. Well, one is just an iron hook-and-eye, level with the corner of the window. The sort of thing you’d find on a storeroom door, which I suppose this was. I think we might reach that one. The other is a plain wooden bar about a foot and a half below the window. It must weigh several pounds, but I think if we had a hook and line we might eventually open it. Anything else?”
“What’s the arrangement in Adrian’s cabin? Did the guards stay with you?”
“No.” Archer gulped the last of his tea, picked up the plates, and took them to the door flap. “There was no guard. But I was reminded that you and the Captain would pay if I… misbehaved.” He looked around restlessly and went to the port, gripping the bar with both hands and peering up at the sky. “He had two guards just outside, in easy call, and signaled them before letting me out. I don’t know if he changes the signal—he’d be a fool if he didn’t—or what they might do if he didn’t signal by a certain time. I was locked in there with him, William—even if I’d somehow managed to kill him, they could’ve thrown you both overboard before they came in to settle with me.”
What had him so jittery, all of a sudden? “Davy, I didn’t mean to suggest you should’ve attacked him. That would have been dangerously premature. We need to at least know where the Captain is before we get to tactics. Though it’s an idea, if you think you could take him.”
“I wouldn’t want to bet your lives on it,” Archer said grimly, “or I’d have tried last night. Believe me, the thought did occur. I think he’d anticipated that I might try an attack of some sort. I was given nothing sharp enough to use as a weapon, and he watched me like a hawk.”
“Was he armed?” Marshall finished his own tea and made the painful discovery that he couldn’t stretch far enough to reach the door. “Damn!”
“Here.” Archer added his cup to the dishes and pushed them through the flap, then checked outside the door and sat close enough to speak very quietly. “I never saw his back. He might have had a pistol behind him, in his belt. Wouldn’t you?”
“Perhaps not. If he had guards close at hand, it might be safer to be unarmed; he could fend you off until they came to his aid. If he did have a gun and you got it away from him, then he’d be the prisoner.”
“And if I couldn’t, he might blow a hole in his profits. Probably not worth the risk, either way.”
“Do you think he’s going to call you back soon?”
The color drained from Archer’s face. He looked away and swallowed before answering. “I’m sure of it.”
“Davy, what’s wrong?”
He shook himself. “Nothing. Just—after last night, I don’t—” He stopped, took a deep breath. “One wrong word, and you could be back at the gratings. Or worse. I’m sorry I’m such a coward.”
He was working himself into a state, and Marshall couldn’t see why. “That’s enough of that!” He said it more sharply than he’d intended, but it did get Archer’s attention. “Davy, when I was cornered in that powder room on the Impulsive, you got me out. I’d have been blown all over the Atlantic if you hadn’t. I don’t want to hear you calling yourself a coward ever again.”
“That wasn’t courage.”
“Oh, for—what was it, plum duff?”
“No. I—I was scared witless, William. It looked certain we were going to be taken prisoner anyway. And I was going to have to watch you die, first. I had to do something. I thought there was a chance—and if I couldn’t save you, at least it would be quick.”
Marshall sighed in exasperation. “Well, Barrow said it was the bravest thing he’d ever seen, and I’m inclined to agree. If that happens to be how you define cowardice, you have my full permission to go on being cowardly. Just call it something else, if you please!”
He had meant to make a joke of it, but Archer only nodded glumly.
“Very well. Now, what about the deck? I thought I saw four small guns, maybe six- or eight-pounders.”
“I saw the same. There might have been a little stern-chaser, as well. I couldn’t be sure, what with the moonlight and other distractions. And if there’s a stern-chaser—”
“Probably a bow-chaser, too. Six small guns. A merchant vessel, then. She almost has to be. Just enough armament for protection from minor piracy. There must be a perfectly legitimate cargo to cover what’s really going on.”
“And it’s likely a cargo necessary to the war,” Archer suggested, “or he’d have lost crew to the press gangs by now. He couldn’t afford to keep losing sailors who know what he’s up to. Sooner or later, someone would be bound to talk.”
“That’s true. Davy, that’s brilliant! Even if we can’t escape on our own, we’ve got him, now. All we need to do, once we’re free, is get hold of the harbormaster’s list of ships present on the third and fourth and check their cargos. Busy as Portsmouth is, the list for two days can’t be very long.”
He really couldn’t understand why Archer didn’t share his enthusiasm.
Chapter 6
Supplemental Log, HMS C
alypso, in for repair, Portsmouth.
Lt. Anthony Drinkwater, in temporary command. 21-7-1799
THEY ARE alive! Barrow has just brought in a letter from Captain Smith, addressed to Port Admiral Roberts and myself. As the letter must be carried to Ad. Roberts directly, I reproduce it here:
Sirs: I regret to inform you that Mr. Marshall, Mr. Archer, and I have been detained by a group of brigands who, as you are aware, have been conducting a series of abductions for the purpose of ransom. They seem unconcerned with the damage this may do their country. At present we are at an unknown location and will apparently remain so until ransom is paid. Unfortunately, our abductors have not yet set their price on us, so we must waste yet more time awaiting their decision. Please contact my business agent immediately and ask him to see to it that funds are available commensurate with what has been previously demanded by these criminals. I would prefer to have my agent deal with the ransom for all three of us; the fewer details involved, the less delay. I enclose a letter to Mr. Archer’s father, the Earl of Grenbrook; please see that he receives it with all due haste.
As I would have likely taken a brief shore leave while repairs were effected on Calypso, I hope the Admiralty will consider this excursion as that leave. Mr. Drinkwater, I have every confidence in your ability to manage the situation; it is no more complex than the one we faced off France last summer…. Please assure the men that we shall return as soon as possible. I have every expectation that this should be well before Calypso is ready to return to service. If for some reason our hopes are not realized, please enter into the record that Mr. Marshall and Mr. Archer have conducted themselves with fortitude and valor as shining examples of England’s finest, and tell my wife and family that my thoughts are with them, as they are with you all.
I have the honour to be (Etc.)
Captain Sir Paul Andrew Smith, (Etc.)
Mr. Korthals is continuing to direct the search for the man who paid a boy to carry this letter to our crewmen. We do not hold much hope, as the child (age six) is quite incoherent with excitement due to the effect his errand had on O’Reilly. (Mr. Ring has succeeded in extricating O’Reilly from the constable’s clutches; O’Reilly’s vehemence in detaining a passerby who resembled the child’s description, who, as it transpired, was not the right man, had caused him to be taken into custody.)
“STAND AWAY from the door.”
The order came almost as a relief to Archer, who had spent the past day and a half in continual anxiety. After yesterday morning’s dithering, he had done his best to hide his nervousness from Marshall, who of course had no way of knowing what the problem really was.
It helped that Will had his own body’s distractions to contend with. He had slept a long time but seemed to be mending rapidly—so much so that he had already resumed wearing his uniform shirt and waistcoat, though he was not yet ready to button the latter. Only someone who knew him well would notice the slight delay and stiffness in his movements as he got to his feet.
The routine was a repeat of the one two days previous, with one startling difference: the guards, different ones this time, ordered Archer to stand back and Marshall to come forward. He blinked, started to reach down for his jacket—and Archer scooped it up to conceal the fact that William couldn’t move that quickly. He helped his friend into it and brushed off clinging bits of straw. What was going on? They’d got it wrong. They shouldn’t be taking Will—
“To what do I owe the honor?” Marshall asked.
On cue—the allusion was unavoidable—Adrian stepped into the doorway. “You can thank your Captain for this, Lieutenant. That stirring speech of his cannot go unrewarded.”
Even having to stand slightly stooped, Marshall, his face blank, somehow managed to look down at Adrian. “I’m not in proper dress for the occasion. If you’ll give me a moment—”
“Oh, I’m not letting you back on deck; we’ve had quite enough attempted rabblerousing. I don’t care to see if it’s a family trait. I also doubt you’re ready for another session with the bosun. Unless you insist.”
Apparently Marshall considered Smith’s order to restrain himself as ongoing. Without a flicker of expression, he said, “Not at all.”
“And your manners are improving. Excellent.”
Giving Archer a smile over his shoulder, William stepped outside. “Until later, Mr. Archer.”
The routine with the cloak was repeated on him, the only difference being that the door was not closed. Archer kept an encouraging smile pasted on his face until the hood blocked William’s view, then he let numbness steal all expression. He had dreaded this moment for himself. He had not realized how much worse it would be to anticipate it happening to his friend. But why was Adrian doing this?
Three guards took Marshall away. Adrian had brought two more with him, who remained in the hall. “Well, Mr. Archer, are you ready to dine?”
What? Oh, thank God. So that wasn’t where he was taking William. Archer let himself breathe again, but his stomach still felt like a lump of ice. “Unless you find it stimulating to watch a meal retrace its passage, I would rather not bother with food.”
“Such eagerness. I’m flattered.”
A dozen cutting replies crossed Archer’s mind. He bit them back. Despairing of an answer, he asked, “What are you going to do to him?”
“A rather ingenuous question, don’t you think?” Adrian ran a finger along Archer’s jaw and clicked his tongue at the stubble.
“Not at all.” Ingenuous? That he’d worry about William? What was the bastard playing at? “I—I was under the impression that we had a bargain—”
“A gentlemen’s agreement?” Adrian seemed about to laugh.
“If you like.” Gentlemen? Hardly. “At any rate, an agreement that Mr. Marshall would come to no harm if I were to—” He swallowed, the bitterness rising like gall. Bad enough to contemplate. How to put it into words without sounding like a dockside whore? “—to attend you in your cabin.”
“Willingly?” He was smiling now, damn him.
“No. That is not possible. But without contention.”
“Do you really think you could contend against all my men?”
Archer quelled a flare of anger. “I have lived on His Majesty’s warships since I was sixteen,” he said carefully. “I have survived battles where men were slipping in the blood that ran along the deck. Surprising as it may seem to you, I do know how to fight.” With a little shock, he realized that was the truth, and it gave him strength enough to say the rest. “If you did not hold hostages, yes, I would fight you.” You condescending bastard. “I expect you’d kill me, but I would do my best to take at least some of you with me.”
His captor laughed aloud. “Ah, so there’s steel in the sheath. Even better.” He stroked Archer’s hair. “So much more rewarding to master a spirited creature. I don’t doubt you will do your best, laddie. In time.”
Was there anything he did not turn into a double entendre? Standing rigid, ignoring the touch, Archer tried to sound reasonable. “You see my point, I’m sure. I am only trying to determine whether I have an accurate understanding of our… agreement… and whether you intend to honor it.”
“Yes, I see.” Adrian’s hand closed around the tail of hair at the base of his neck, and Archer held very still, barely breathing. “But surely you realize that our agreement is not the only element in play here. I could scarcely overlook Captain Smith’s behavior and expect to maintain discipline, you know. I thought I was extremely generous in giving your friend a day’s respite.” He let go, but leaned closer. “Allow me to ease your mind. At the moment, Mr. Marshall is facing only a spell of close confinement.” He patted Archer’s shoulder in false reassurance. “Don’t worry, laddie, you’ll get him back, safe and sound—when you’ve fulfilled your part of the bargain.”
Archer could think of no response, but it seemed none was expected. Adrian was speaking to hear himself speak.
“Think of it as an incentive. As to his situat
ion in future… I am a gourmet, not a glutton. I appreciate Mr. Marshall’s considerable charms, but I shan’t concern myself with them until I have had my fill of yours. So his welfare rather depends upon you, don’t you think?”
So William would be, if not safe, at least a little removed from danger. For the moment. “I think….” Archer swallowed. “I think my actions really matter very little. You might prefer me to believe his safety rests in my hands, to hold me responsible should you decide to torment him further.”
Adrian laughed. “You are perceptive, laddie, but you underestimate your own appeal. I intend to enjoy you slowly and thoroughly, but since you mentioned fighting, let me warn you—your friend will indeed be punished for your transgressions. I insist upon your full cooperation. If you think to refuse me anything—anything, mind—he will be back at the gratings. Three strokes for every ‘no’ you utter. Do you understand?”
Archer nodded once, not really surprised.
“Good. I may as well inform you now, regarding other offenses, so you will not waste time considering them. If you kill any of my men, Mr. Marshall will lose a finger for each death or serious injury. An eye for an eye, so to speak.”
“You care so much for your men?” It seemed inconceivable.
“I do not wish my tools destroyed,” Adrian said with a shrug. “If you merely injure anyone, I shall turn your friend over to the crew for a space of time determined by the severity of your offense. There are no few who would enjoy him, and none of them are as considerate as I. If you raise a hand to me—pay attention, now,” he said, lifting Archer’s chin with one finger “—he’s for the gratings, then the crew, and then the gelding knife. I have a man who lived with the Turks for a year or two. He can do it so fast your head would spin. Do you understand that?”
