Ransom

by Lee Rowan

  “Amusement,” Archer said bitterly. “He didn’t need the ropes, he had you. The rest of it, I earned by being insufficiently….” He grimaced. “Appreciative. After he’d gone to what he considered great lengths to make the procedure… agreeable… I told him, pretty bluntly, that I wasn’t impressed. He was extremely annoyed.” He folded his arms, hunching slightly. “After he’d thrown me around for a bit, he decided it would be more entertaining to continue trying to seduce me. Will, please, can we speak of something else?”

  “Of course,” Marshall said, enormously relieved to change the subject. “But there is one thing you must decide.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Would you rather see this putrefied whoreson hang—or help me cut him into very small pieces?”

  Davy’s blue eyes held no humor at the grim jest. “Yes. That’s the only way to stop him, you know. He’ll never go to trial for this.”

  “He should.”

  “No doubt—and I’d never be able to show my face in public again. I can get through this, but I could not stand up in a court and testify to it, William. I could not.”

  David was undoubtedly correct. What he was going through was horrible enough. Making it public would be excruciating. “Of course not. I’m a damned fool. It would destroy your career.”

  “Oh, yes—if I have one left, after this. And you would be tarred by the same brush, Will. Everyone would assume that since we were both prisoners….”

  Marshall had not thought of that.

  He must have looked as queasy as he felt, because David continued, “It’s all a piece of the same cloth, my friend. Nothing has happened. Nothing at all.”

  He watched as William struggled with the problem—and reached the inevitable conclusion. “What do you mean, if you have a career left?”

  Archer took a deep breath and stared off into a corner. Finally he said, “What do you suppose will happen when the Captain finds out?”

  “A funeral. Adrian’s. But why should he find out? I would never—”

  “Think about it, Will,” Archer said with weary patience. “There are no secrets on this ship. By Adrian’s own admission—he likes to brag—the bastard’s been doing this to every prisoner, male or female, who strikes his fancy. I’ll wager he’s already told Captain Smith about me—his version, of course. He’s probably claimed I seduced him. The Captain won’t want me anywhere near his ship.”

  “This isn’t your doing! Captain Smith is a fair man—”

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Archer’s eyes looked older than his years, and the lifeless tone of his voice belied his words. “But, William, he’s a post-captain. His first concern must be the good of the Service. And I’m… tainted… now. I doubt he’ll consider me worth the risk. The best I can do—if he’ll let me—is leave quietly when asked and hope you don’t get drawn into it.” He sank down into himself for a moment, as if coming to a decision. “Will, when we get the bar out, and you go above, if you can find the Captain—just get him away. And yourself. If you’re both gone, Adrian won’t do anything more to me, there’d be no point—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Davy, I couldn’t do that.”

  “After what I did to you—”

  “What you did?” Marshall wanted to shake David. He wanted to hold him—no, he could not do that! “Smuggling food to me? Taking care of me after that beating? Oh, you must mean protecting me by letting that bastard use you—” He couldn’t go on. It was too unbelievable that David could be blaming himself. “Davy, if you are referring to some rash, overly emotional behavior that I thought was settled—” Archer tried to turn away, but Marshall caught his arms, carefully, where there were no bruises. “Try holding me down against my will, Davy. From underneath. Just try. You couldn’t do it.”

  Archer closed his eyes.

  “You could not.” Marshall released him. “And you did not. So if you think you did something I would be angry with you for, or ever hold against you—you must have been dreaming. I seem to recall you weren’t even sure if I’d come back, one night, until I was still there in the morning.”

  “Will—”

  “Davy, everyone has dreams where they do impossible things. You can’t blame a man for what he does in a dream.”

  “Or a nightmare.”

  “No. If anyone were to ask if I remembered you… attacking me, I would have to say no, you must have dreamt it.”

  Archer finally met his eyes, and Marshall saw that he, too, wanted more than their world would allow. “It’s impossible.”

  “Yes, I know. But I’m not suggesting we ask the Captain to marry us! As you pointed out, there was no harm intended and no harm done… unless you keep flogging yourself. If you somehow think you have to make amends to me, then just forgive yourself and I’ll consider it settled.”

  “Will, for God’s sake, my career is over. Can’t you at least let me be of some use in this?”

  “Davy!” Marshall caught himself and lowered his voice. “You’ve been under that devil’s influence too long, you’re starting to believe him. Whatever he might do to you, whatever he might force you to do, he couldn’t turn you into a Correy if he had a century to do it.”

  “I don’t think he could, either, Will,” Archer said bleakly. “I know too well how it feels to be on the receiving end. I’m very grateful that you agree… but the decision’s not yours to make.”

  “Or yours, either.” Thank God. “Davy, if Adrian has any sense at all, he will keep this from the Captain at all costs… to use your own argument, it would suggest he’s been—” It was hard to get his mind around the idea, much less find the words. “—been doing the same to both of us. Don’t forget, he thinks I’m Captain Smith’s cousin. Can you imagine how the Captain would deal with someone who did that to his own flesh and blood?” Marshall expected it would, in fact, be exactly the same way Smith would deal with anyone abusing one of his midshipmen, but Archer had been made to feel too worthless to accept that anyone else might value him. “Adrian is not fool enough to risk a blood feud with anyone as forceful and well-connected as Captain Smith.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Archer admitted. “But if the Captain were to come right out and ask me what Adrian did—”

  “—which will most probably not happen—”

  “True, but I couldn’t deny it. And, Will—” David met his look and held it. “I do not want you to compromise yourself by trying to cover up for me. If you were to lose the Captain’s trust, you’d never get it back.”

  “We have much to do before we need worry about that,” Marshall said. “But what if everything goes right? Suppose we escape, and come back in force and capture this ship. Or better, suppose we get the Captain free and the three of us take Adrian prisoner. What would the best outcome be?”

  Archer looked skeptical, but he made a fair effort. “All right. What he’s done is piracy, that’s a capital offense that doesn’t require a trial. The Captain said as much up on deck. If he has the chance, he’ll hang Adrian. In the best possible outcome, enough of the crew will come over for us to get the ship to port, or we’ll be able to signal a passing ship for help. As for the rest—Will, this is foolish.”

  “What else have we to do right now? The Captain always says to go into battle intending to win. Go on, Davy. We’ve won our freedom, hanged this pirate who’s been kidnapping and murdering people, taken over his ship—what’s to become of us?”

  “We’ll leave the Navy, sail away in our own little sloop, and live happily ever after.”

  “Davy—”

  “This is—oh, very well. Assuming we get out of this, we’ll continue our careers, perhaps marry and raise families, and do what we can to keep predators like Correy and this bastard out of the Service because we’ll know them when we see them. Will that do?”

  “I think it sounds like something worth living for. Isn’t it better than doom, disgrace, and ruin?”

  Archer sighed, obviously unconvinced. “Of cours
e.”

  “Davy, just as a favor to me. Would you please let yourself believe things might be all right? Not that they will, I don’t ask that, but allow that there just might be hope?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know how it feels to live without hope. It makes death look too easy. Without hope, Davy, you’re going to get yourself killed. And without you, we’ll all die. It’s only the three of us against the whole crew. The Captain wouldn’t leave you—”

  “That’s what Adrian assumes. He would never expect you to go. And if it meant you could get help and put an end to this—”

  “—and even if he did, I damned well wouldn’t! After what you’ve been through for us, how can you even think—” He closed his eyes against the pain, against the fierce temptation to take his dear friend into his arms once more. “It’s one thing if I lose you in battle. That’s out of my hands. But as long as we’re both breathing, I will never leave you behind, do you understand?”

  Archer settled back against the bulkhead, not meeting Marshall’s eyes. “It’s been a week, William. One of the guards who took me up last night told me not to worry, Adrian would get bored soon, and then he’d look elsewhere. I doubt he meant the Captain.” He held Marshall’s gaze then, until he seemed sure his meaning was clear, and went on, his voice nearly devoid of expression. “I shall distract him as long as I can. I don’t think he’ll lose interest as long as I’m resisting. It really is a matter of playing for time. Perhaps the ransom will come through—”

  “No. We’ll wait no longer. You can’t imagine I want you to shield me like this….” He touched Davy’s shoulder, very lightly. He meant what he said, but the fear of having to undergo what his friend had endured nearly paralyzed him. He’d always known David had courage, but he had never guessed how much.

  A door creaked, somewhere outside, and the morning guards took up their posts. They’d have to be sure to keep their voices low. “I wish you had told me sooner, Davy,” he said. As Archer opened his mouth to argue he added quickly. “No, it’s all right, I understand, but I wouldn’t have kept waiting for the Captain to make the first move. Not with what you’re going through. We’ll just have to find him when we get out.”

  “If we aren’t working with him, an escape attempt will be a bigger risk—”

  “Not an attempt,” Marshall said firmly. “An escape.”

  Chapter 15

  SMITH WOKE to fresh air moving through his cell and a little daylight. He had expected, when the ship hove to, that he would not have much chance to signal. He had not expected to have a guard posted directly outside his door or to be told that any attempt would result in one of his men being killed—but when he heard the sounds outside the porthole, another ship so close he could hear her crew shouting, he understood. He could have made himself heard, if he’d been willing to pay the price.

  “Cap’n?”

  He hadn’t moved so quickly in some time. “You’re alone?”

  “My mate’s gone for your breakfast. Sorry it took so long to get back t’you—”

  Smith wasn’t waiting for conversation. The questions spilled out: “Where is this ship? When is her next delivery?”

  “Lizard Point’s about eight miles larboard, Cap’n. We’re beatin’ back toward Tor Bay, direct as we can. Out o’ sight o’ the coast, mostly. Nobody knows the next delivery but maybe Ship’s Master Brown an’ the Cap’n.”

  “Where are my men?”

  “Just opposite you, starboard side. They’re all right, so far, mostly. I wanted to tell you, sir, I talked to a friend of mine, and we’re agreed to ’elp you, if you get us pardons.”

  “Your friend doesn’t happen to be the cook, does he?”

  “’Ow’d you—ah, sent you a present, did ’e? Said ’e might.”

  “Yes, he did. Give him my thanks. But can you be certain of him?”

  “Certain’s can be, sir. ’E’s already ’ad ’is fill of Cap’n Adrian. I was plannin’ to cut out next time we got shore leave, an’ ’Enry decided to, too, after what ’e done to ’is wife.”

  The conversation seemed to be getting a bit far afield. “The cook’s wife? What’s she got to do with this?”

  “Well, she wasn’t ’is wife at the time, she was maid to a Milady the Cap’n kidnapped. Pretty little thing, the Cap’n… well, he brought ’er along for fun. Then it turned out this fine lady thought it’d be a lark to ’ave a flourish with this pirate, you know he carries on like cock o’ the walk—”

  Smith had the feeling he’d fallen into a very strange novel. “The lady who was kidnapped had an affair with Adrian? He’d molest his prisoners?”

  Bert nodded. “Aye, ’e would. ’E does. Most of ’em. It’s a bad business, sir. If I’d known what ’e was like, I’d’a taken my chances ashore. She was the first one as wanted it, though. Everyone figured it’s ’is just desserts, ’e ’ad the devil’s own time gettin’ shed of ’er. That’s when the Cap’n’s partner got ’is back up. ’E didn’t mind ’aving ’is bit o’ fun with the prisoners, but that ‘lady’ wanted to stay aboard an’ play pirate ’erself. Loony bitch, beggin’ your pardon, sir. I ’ope ’er ’usband took a stick to ’er when ’e got ’er back. Anyway, that left ’er maid ready for the chop, she wasn’t about to ransom the poor girl and let ’er gossip to the other servants. So ’Enry, that’s the cook, sir, he took ’er ashore when he went for supplies, married ’er quiet-like, and sent ’er back to his ma in Scotland, she’s gettin’ on in years.”

  Smith discarded the irrelevancies and cut to the point. “Ask your friend if he can put something in the food that will affect the crew—slow them down, perhaps, or send them running for the head. Is there any way you can get a message to my men? And can you get them any sort of weapons?”

  “I might see ’em. Couldn’t say when, though. Might be a few days. Weapons, maybe a blade, prob’ly not guns ’til you’re ready to go. Anybody can’t account for his pistol, ’e’s in bad trouble.”

  “I see. I noticed guns on deck. Are they kept loaded?” That would be a foolish waste of powder on most ships, since an enemy could be seen so far off, but for Adrian it could mean a chance at escape if he were caught unawares. And he had no shortage of powder.

  Bert nodded. “Just the bow-stern chasers, though. We freshens the powder reg’lar, load the rest when we need to.”

  “What charge?”

  “Canister, mostly. We only ’ave light metal, six-pounders, so we goes for scattered shot.”

  “Sensible,” Smith agreed. “All right. I need to know when we’ll be approaching another ship or if we get within a mile or two of land, especially if we’re near landfall at night. At some point, I’m going to have to ask you to unbar this door.”

  “Point o’ no return, I reckon.”

  “Exactly. And how many are in the crew?”

  “Thirty-eight, plus the Cap’n an’ ship’s master. Smaller crew, bigger prize shares.”

  Thirty-eight to three—or five. Not the best odds, but adding in the element of surprise and timing their move to when most of those men would be asleep…. Yes. It was feasible. “Now, you say my men are opposite here—how many guards?”

  “Two, sir, same as you, and they’re both there most o’ the time. They have lights-out same time as you—the guards go out by the stairs so they can stay awake. Isn’t any other way in to that cell. But there’s probably ’alf a dozen men on deck most o’ the night, two or three even in the late dogwatch.”

  Smith nodded. He needed to give Bert a message for Marshall, but he was reluctant. If this were some kind of elaborate trap—and however he might pride himself on his ability to judge character, it could well be—he might be setting his men up for more of Adrian’s games. But would Adrian arm him just to gain his confidence? Not likely. “If you get the chance, tell Mr. Marshall that the order to escape will come at night, with the last password we gave on sighting Spithead.”

  “Password?”

  “Ship’s code. He is
one of my signal officers, and that will assure him that the message is truly from me. And—with all respect to yourself—it will assure me that you have indeed spoken to him.”

  “Password, Spithead….” Bert grinned. “You like things complicated, Cap’n.”

  “In truth, I do not. This situation—”

  “’Old on.” Bert darted off. Smith heard him open a door and greet the other guard. “Looks like ’e’s awake already. You bring me that tea?”

  Well, that was probably an end to any further information, for now—not that what he’d gotten wasn’t more than he’d expected. He had not asked where weapons were kept, but the odds were they’d be stowed in the usual places, and with any luck, he’d be able to glean a pistol or two from the crew.

  Ideally, he could get out late and send Bert to release Marshall and Archer, then rendezvous with them on deck and take whatever action seemed most appropriate. He was inclined to head for the quarterdeck and Adrian’s cabin, to deal with the most serious threat. The navigator, Brown, was an unknown quantity—Smith wasn’t surprised Adrian would have someone to handle the details of navigation—but, as he’d told Drinkwater, stopping Adrian was the critical matter. With any luck, one would lead to the other, but putting a stop to this operation was more important than their own escape.

  And they had to put a stop to it. The notion that Adrian had been assaulting his prisoners was as repellent a bit of news as Smith had encountered in any war. “Most of” his prisoners? As best he could recall, there had been nine abductions before this one. He did not know their names, but discounting the first, Adrian’s test run, that meant eight: one was an elderly gentleman, one a middle-aged banker—those two were probably not bothered; three wives—one of whom had a maid who obviously had not returned with her; one young woman, and a couple of boys.

  And two of my men. Not boys anymore, true, but young enough to be in danger from that sort of predator. The question wasn’t whether Adrian was twisted, it was how twisted he was and how much damage he was likely to do. For the moment Smith decided to ignore the fact that four women could not constitute “most” of eight; he would assume that Adrian confined his offenses to women. That was enough to hang him for. Unless I have a chance to shoot him first.