'Seems to be easing off a bit,' Theodoras commented after a moment. 'But take a thorough look around the place you're in. There may be something lying about that I could use to free myself. There's room to slip a piece of metal, or a blade or something under the door.'
'My poor friend, I'll do my best, but I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed.'
She was still on her knees, embarking on a detailed exploration of her dimly-lit quarters, when the Greek's voice reached her again.
'Princess!'
'Yes, Theodoras?' It was the first time he had called her that, and it surprised her a little. Up to then, he had not found it necessary to call her anything at all.
'I just want to say… I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. You're a brave woman… and a good comrade! If we get out of this… I'd like to be friends. Will you?'
In spite of the hopelessness of their position, Marianne found herself smiling and a little rush of warmth made her heart beat faster and buoyed up her courage. The manly offer of friendship, a friendship which she knew would not fail her, was the very thing she needed most. From that moment, she felt that she was no longer alone and, unexpectedly, she wanted to cry.
'Yes, Theodoros, I will,' she said, with a catch in her voice. 'I can't think of anything I'd like better.'
'Now then, courage! You sound as if you would burst into tears!… We'll get out of this, you wait and see.'
A thorough, if uncomfortable, search of the space between decks yielded nothing, and Marianne returned disconsolately to tell Theodoros that she had failed.
'Never mind,' he sighed. 'We'll just have to wait. Something may turn up. These dogs will have to give us something to eat when the storm dies down. We'll think again then. Meanwhile, you'd better try and get some rest. See if you can wedge yourself into a corner and sleep.'
Marianne did her best but it was not easy. However, as the storm died away, she did manage to doze off.
By evening both wind and sea had subsided. The deck on which she lay was once more reasonably horizontal and she had a moment's peace.
There was not a sound to be heard from the other side of the door and she thought that Theodoros must be asleep. It was now pitch dark between decks. Light was no longer penetrating through the deadlights. The air had grown colder, though, and dank.
Marianne was just wondering if they were not going to be forgotten altogether until the ship reached Candia, or wherever else it was bound, for she now had no means of knowing, when someone opened the hatch.
In the light of a lantern, a pair of legs clad in sea boots and canvas trousers appeared, surrounded by swirling vapour. Outside, the storm had been succeeded by a mist, long trails of which came creeping down the steps like ghostly tentacles.
Marianne, lying stretched out on the deck not far from the steps, did not move. She remained lying in the attitude of a woman in the last stages of exhaustion, hoping that the new arrival would disregard her and so enable her to watch what he was going to do, especially if he went anywhere near Theodoros.
As it turned out, he was carrying two earthenware jugs and two lumps of some dark substance which was probably bread. Kouloughis, it appeared, did not believe in feeding his prisoners too delicately. But behind the seaman, Marianne saw through half-closed eyes, another pair of legs descending, and these were enveloped in the ample folds of a pair of silken trousers which seemed oddly familiar.
What was the fair Stephanos doing between-decks, she wondered?
She did not have to wonder long. While the sailor's heavy tread receded in the direction of the door at the far end, the light footfalls of his companion stopped quite close to the ladder. Without warning, he delivered a vicious kick between the girl's ribs. She let out a low cry and opened her eyes, to see him standing over her, foot poised for another blow. He was stroking the blade of a long, curved knife and he smiled, a smile at once so stupid and so cruel that Marianne's blood froze. His eyes stared at her, the pupils shrunk to minute black specks no bigger than a pin. He had come, so far as she could tell, to deal with a creature he considered abject but possibly dangerous in the way he felt that she deserved.
She did not pause to think. She simply gathered herself, as though shrinking from the second blow, and then sprang, panther-like, for his throat. The movement, half-instinctive reflex, half sheer hate, was irresistible. The youth was taken wholly by surprise. He tried to draw back, bumped into the steps and fell. Instantly, she was on him, grasped his head in both hands and banged it against the ladder with such deadly effectiveness that her exquisite adversary was very soon unconscious.
Marianne seized the dagger as it slipped from his hand and clutched it to her with an extraordinary feeling of triumph and power. Her reflex had been due much more to the sight of the weapon than to the kick. Turning to look along the deck, she saw the seaman had hauled open the protesting door and was about to go inside.
It had all happened so quickly that he had heard nothing, beyond the sound of the fall which had evidently not alarmed him. In a flash, Marianne knew that door must not be allowed to close again.
Gripping the knife in her hand, she ran towards the opening, which showed clear in the light of the lantern. The man was tall and strong, and he was already bending to enter when, with the speed of lightning, she leaped for his back and struck home.
The sailor made a gurgling sound and dropped like a stone beside the lantern, carrying Marianne with him.
Staggered at what she had done, she got to her feet and stood staring dazedly at the bloodstains on the knife. She had just killed a man, with no more hesitation than on the night she had brained Ivy St Albans with a candlestick, after wounding Francis Cranmere in a duel, leaving him, too, as she had then believed, for dead.
'The third time…' she muttered to herself. The third…'
She was roused from her stupor by the voice of Theodoros, torn between delight and admiration.
'Magnificent, Princess! You're a real amazon! Now cut me loose, and hurry! There's no time to waste. Someone may come.'
Mechanically, she bent to pick up the lantern and by its light saw the giant lying flat on the deck, trussed like a chicken. For all the bruises on his face, which showed what he had endured, and the stubble beard, his eyes were frankly hilarious. Marianne dropped on her knees beside him and set about cutting the ropes that bound him. They were stout and thick but she worked with such a will that it was not long before the first one yielded. After that, it was easy and in a few seconds more, Theodoros was free.
'By God, that's better!' he sighed, stretching his long legs to ease their stiffness. Now, let's see if we can get out of here… Can you swim?'
'Yes.'
'You really are a remarkable creature. Come on.'
Thrusting the dagger into his belt, regardless of the blood which stained it, Theodoros led Marianne out of the cell, taking care to shut the door behind them with the dead man inside. As he turned round, his eye was caught by the recumbent figure of Stephanos, making a light-coloured blue at the foot of the steps, and he eyed his companion in some amazement.
'Have you killed him, too?'
'No – at least, I don't think so. Only stunned him. It was from him I got the knife… He was kicking me… I think he meant to kill me.'
'Good lord, you don't have to apologize! You ought to be congratulated! Your only mistake was in not killing him… but it's a mistake that can soon be remedied.'
'No, Theodoros! Don't kill him! He's – he's – well, I think the captain is fond of him. If we don't manage to escape, he would certainly kill us without mercy…'
The Greek began to laugh silently.
'Aha! It's the beautiful Stephanos?'
'Do you know him?'
Theodoros lifted his shoulders in amused contempt.
'Kouloughis and his fancies are common knowledge all through the islands. But you're right when you say he cares for the little scum. It makes a difference, certainly.'
He was just bendin
g over the inert form, to lift it up, when there was a terrible crash. The vessel shuddered through all her length, and a gaping hole appeared in the hull.
'We've struck!' roared Theodoros. 'A reef, probably. This is our chance!'
A veritable chorus of shouts had broken out above their heads and the ship struck again. There was water coming in. With a strong heave, Theodoros hoisted Stephanos over his shoulder as if he had been a sack of flour, letting his head fall forward on to his chest so that the boy's throat was within reach of the curved blade he had taken from his belt. It was clear that his idea was to force a passage through the pirates by threatening to kill Nicolaos' favourite.
Marianne crawled up the steps after him and peered out. The deck was shrouded in mist through which could be seen the ghostly figures of seamen running to and fro, shouting and waving. No one had any eyes for them.
The clamour was deafening. Theodoros crossed himself, backwards in the Orthodox fashion, with the hand that held the dagger.
'Holy Mother of God!' he breathed. 'It's not a reef. It's another vessel.'
Towering above the polacca's starboard side, visible in the smoky glare of the lanterns burning here and there on the Greek vessel's deck, was what looked like a sheer wall of bristling guns.
Theodoros uttered a muffled shout of joy and dumped his burden on the deck without further ado.
'We're saved!' he muttered softly. 'We're going to climb aboard her.'
He started forward but she held him back, saying anxiously: 'Theodoros, are you mad? You don't know what ship that is. They may be Turks!'
'Turks? A three-decker? No, that's a western ship, Princess. It's only in your part of the world they build these floating fortresses. A ship of the line, that's what she is! Can't even see her yards in this fog – although we stand a fair chance of feeling them!'
The rigging of the two vessels seemed to have become entangled in some way, despite the difference in height, and one way or another there was a good deal of debris falling out of the invisible sky.
'Come on, before we get our brains knocked out!'
Theodoras dragged Marianne through the apocalyptic scene towards the after end of the ship. The pirates were mostly gathered round the place where the polacca had struck, which was fairly far forward, but all the same, the Greek was obliged to knock down two or three who loomed up out of the mist and tried to stand in their way. His great fists could deliver a blow like a hammer.
The light near the stern was much better, mainly on account of the stern lanterns of the other vessel and the tall stern windows which threw an aura of light into the milky fog.
'There's what we want,' said the Greek, who had been looking for something. 'Climb on to my back, put your legs round my waist and hold on tight round my neck. You'd never manage to climb a rope on your own.'
He was already bending to take her up. Close by, no more than arm's length away, a rope was hanging down, its upper end apparently lost in the sky.
'I used to once,' Marianne said, 'but whether I could now…'
'Well, we've no time to try experiments. Jump on and hold tight.'
Marianne obeyed and Theodoros took hold of the rope. He shinned his way up the side of the ship with what seemed incredible ease, as though his burden had weighed nothing at all.
The panic on board the pirate ship had reached its height. There must have been grave damage to the hull and it was clear the vessel was already going down. The shouts of the seamen getting the boats into the water were overridden by the voice of Kouloughis bellowing frantically: 'Stephanos! Stephanos!'
'Let him look on the deck under his feet,' Theodoros muttered. 'He'll soon find his precious Stephanos!'
On board the big three-decker there was also activity, but a disciplined activity. There was a rapid patter of the seamen's bare feet about the deck but, apart from a single voice speaking in a curiously accented Greek to the men on the polacca and a faint background hum of men talking quietly together, there was no noise.
An order came abruptly from the unknown quarterdeck, amplified by the speaking trumpet. The order itself meant nothing to Marianne, yet at the sound of it she started violently and almost let go her hold of her companion.
'Theodoros!' she whispered. 'This ship – she's English.'
He too was startled. It was not good news. The cordial relations which had existed recently between Britain and the Porte was enough to make her the natural enemy of the rebel Greeks. If he were known, Theodoros would be handed over to the Sultan just as readily as by Kouloughis. The only difference would be that the operation would not cost the Sultan a penny, thus effecting a considerable saving.
The entry-port for which they were making was not far off now. Theodoros paused for an instant in his climbing.
'You are French,' he whispered. 'What will happen if they find out who you are?'
'I'll be arrested, imprisoned. Already, only a few weeks ago, an English squadron attacked the vessel I was travelling in, to capture me.'
'Then they must not know. There's one person at least on board who speaks Greek – I'll say that you're my sister, deaf and dumb, and we were taken by Kouloughis in a raid and ask for asylum. In any case, we've no choice. When you're escaping out of hell, Princess, you don't stop to worry if your horse is running away with you!'
He resumed his climb and a few seconds later the two of them tumbled on to the deck of the English vessel, at the feet of an officer who was strolling along by the side of a man in an impeccable white suit, as tranquilly as though they were enjoying an agreeable cruise. Neither of them showed any undue surprise at the sudden appearance of two dirty, unkempt foreigners. Their reaction was more of faint displeasure, as if something rather improper had occurred.
'Who are you?' the officer demanded sternly. 'What are you doing here?'
Theodoros launched into a long and eloquent explanation while Marianne, suddenly oblivious of her peril, stared about her in amazement. She was conscious of an indefinable sensation, as if the England of her childhood had risen up before her all at once, and she was breathing it in with a totally unexpected delight. Everything, the two beautifully dressed men, both as neat as new pins, the spotlessly holystoned deck, the gleaming brasswork, it all seemed extraordinarily familiar. Even the face of the officer (who, judging by the amount of gold lace he wore, must be the captain), with grizzled side-whiskers half-concealed by the shadow of his great cocked hat, was oddly like a face she knew already.
The man in the white suit was now deep in conversation with Theodoros, but all this time the captain had said nothing. He was watching Marianne, standing in the light of one of the lanterns, and she felt his eyes upon her as strongly as if he had placed his hand on her shoulder.
The man who had been talking to Theodoros turned to the officer.
'The vessel that struck us belongs to one of the Kouloughis brothers, notorious renegade pirates. This fellow says that he and his sister were carried off by him from Amorgos and were on their way to Tunis to be sold as slaves. They managed to escape in the confusion and are asking for asylum. I gather the young woman is deaf and dumb. We can scarcely throw them back into the sea, can we?'
The captain made no reply. Without a word, he reached out and, taking Marianne's hand, drew her up on to the quarterdeck, where a powerful lantern was burning. There he fell to studying her face as the light fell on it.
Sticking to her part, Marianne said not a word. Then, suddenly:
'You aren't Greek, nor are you deaf and dumb, are you, my child?'
At the same time, he swept off his cocked hat and revealed a full, high-coloured face in which was set a pair of laughing eyes as blue as periwinkles, a face that surged up so unexpectedly from the depths of the past that Marianne could not help giving it a name:
'James King!' she cried. 'Captain James King! But this is incredible!'
'Not so incredible as finding you here, sailing about on a pirate ship in company with a Greek giant! All the same, I could
n't be more delighted to see you, Marianne my dear. Welcome aboard the Jason, bound for Constantinople.'
Whereupon Captain King put both arms round Marianne and kissed her warmly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
An Irascible Antiquary
To find oneself suddenly, halfway across the world, on board the same vessel as an old family friend who, besides being one's accidental rescuer, has all unwittingly become a wartime enemy is an experience of singular awkwardness.
Sir James King had been a part of Marianne's life as far back as she could remember. In those rare intervals when he was not away at sea, he and his family, whose home lay within easy reach of Selton, were among the few callers permitted to cross the sacred limits of Aunt Ellis's carefully guarded threshold. This fact was probably due to her finding them both estimable and restful.
To the fierce old lady, ruling her vast estates with a rod of iron and tending always to carry about with her a faint aroma of the stables, Sir James's wife Mary, with her pretty dresses and big frothy hats, and her perpetual look of having just stepped out of a portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence, was a continual source of interest and amazement. Even life's hardest knocks seemed to roll off her, baffled by her charming smile and the exquisite good manners that were second nature to her.
Marianne, giving her all a child's whole-hearted admiration for something perfect in its kind, had seen her come through an epidemic of smallpox, to which her two youngest children had fallen victim, and wait with unfailing constancy for the return of a husband long believed lost at sea, with the serenity of her sweet face apparently quite undisturbed. Only, her eyes had lost a fraction of their delicate blue, and her smile acquired an indefinable tinge of melancholy to betray the anguish she was suffering. She was a woman who would always hold her head high and never give in to circumstances.
[Marianne 4] - Marianne and the Rebels Page 35
