Perilous Journey of the Much-Too-Spontaneous Girl

by Leigh Statham

  “Eunice here thinks you remember her,” Captain Butterfield said. Jacques looked at Butterfield carefully, his eyes soft, but his face unyielding.

  “I have a lot more to do before the Dragon is ready for flight, Douleur. I don’t have time to answer to every girl who thinks she knows me. We’d be here all night if that were the case.”

  “Oh, I know your reputation precedes you, but there’s no need to be unkind.” Douleur grinned wickedly. She was enjoying this scene a bit too much. Marguerite was confused; Lucy looked terrified, and Jacques stood there useless in the room full of pirates. Marguerite’s only hope was Outil. She looked to her bot with pleading eyes. Outil looked at the bot holding the chain.

  “I do know that bot, however,” Jacques said as he pointed to Outil. “She would be quite useful to me. She knows her way around an engine, if I remember correctly. And we can always use more serving wenches.” Jacques nodded toward the two girls—Marguerite fuming and Lucy weeping.

  “Well, you got your wish. I just bought them from Butterbrains over here. Boots, give her the gold and show her out. I suggest you leave port tonight, Captain.” Douleur stood up and walked to Marguerite. “I want this one delivered to the ship. Send the silks to my dressmaker and Captain Laviolette, get back to work. Take the bot and the girl with you.”

  “What about me?” Lucy whimpered. “They need help at the bar. Can you balance a tray?” Douleur was looking much too closely at Marguerite again.

  “I’m not going anywhere without Lucy. Wherever I go, she goes. We are a package deal.” Marguerite stared back at the pirate queen.

  “You go where I say you go, or your little friend loses her lovely curls and her ears. Understand? You’ll both be branded in the morning.”

  Marguerite wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. She knew it wasn’t a bluff. She knew she shouldn’t push this situation, but she couldn’t let Lucy go, not to this crowd. Not when it was Marguerite’s fault that Lucy was here in the first place.

  “Captain Douleur, if I may,” Outil’s soft lilting robot voice cut the tension. “Mademoiselle Lucy is my mechanic. She is excellent with bots, and I fear her talents would be wasted as a bar wench.”

  “You don’t say?” Douleur looked from Outil to Lucy then back to Marguerite. She turned in a quick movement, sat on the settee and sipped at her drink again. “I want both girls in my cabin. Give them uniforms and lock them down for the night. We sail at sunrise, Laviolette.”

  “Do you want to hobble on the wind? Or would you like operational engines?” Jacques barked back without apology.

  “It’s your neck, aerman. Get the work done or die.” She waved a hand of dismissal. All around her, people sprang to action clearing the room. Marguerite watched as the large woman with the guns handed Butterfield the cash and motioned her to the back door. Marguerite couldn’t hold her tongue much longer. She knew she’d promised herself and Outil that she would be less impulsive, but watching Butterfield pocket the gold and walk toward the back door made a fire burn up her insides. Then the dowdy older woman turned around and smiled at them.

  “Good luck girls. I probably won’t be seeing you again.”

  Marguerite snapped. “You double-crossing, back-biting, piece of worthless dung! I’ll see that you are hanged as a slaver and a traitor to the crown! You’ll never get another legal job again! My father will see to that! You’ll be hunted like a dog!”

  “Get them all out, Boots, will you. And gag that one.” Captain Douleur waved impatiently at Marguerite. The green clomping bot walked to a table and took a few strips of cloth from the drawer then walked up to Marguerite who was still ranting as Butterfield walked out the door and let it close behind her.

  “This won’t hurt if you will just let me put it on you quickly,” the bot said.

  “Of course, I won’t let you put anything on me, or in me, or the likewise. I won’t be bought and sold and manhandled—” Marguerite was cut off as the bot grabbed her by the back of the neck and pushed one piece of fabric in her mouth then expertly tied the other around her face holding the first in place. Then the bot picked up a pistol, motioned them all out to into the night, and closed the heavy wooden door behind them. Marguerite hung her head in defeat.

  Lucy whispered through tears, “What are we going to do?”

  But Marguerite’s mind was already formulating a plan. She watched Jacques lead their way through the dark back alley. Surely he had a plan, and they could get out of here together. But even if he didn’t, at least, she’d found him. He was here. He was alive. Her heart ached at the sight of him, and it broke with the thought that he was still angry with her. He could be angry with her forever after everything she’d done. He may never speak to her again. Maybe he had decided he liked being a pirate. Maybe he had more options. Maybe he didn’t want to marry her anymore, and he was out to conquer the world with this cruel new boss. Maybe Marguerite was worse than Douleur, always dragging innocent people into her messes and getting them killed.

  Marguerite knew she was working herself up into a useless frenzy. She didn’t know at all how he felt, and she was no good in a frenzy. She tried to calm herself as they approached the entrance to the gangway full of pirates and bots coming and going from the Dragon. But as Jacques stood to see them on, he fell back into step beside her.

  She could smell him; he was that close, but he continued to treat her like a stranger. It was almost overwhelming. She thought she might actually faint with the stress of the entire situation, something she hadn’t done in years. But when no one was looking, his soft, warm hand reached over, found her bound ones, and squeezed. It was a small, quick movement. No one saw them, but it was real. Marguerite felt it.

  He still loved her, but would things ever be the same?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Even at night, the Dragon was magnificent. It was right alongside the Renegade when it came to fine ships. The craftsmanship was of the finest quality. Every bit of metal gleamed from being freshly polished. The whole ship buzzed with the dull hum of engine song. Normally Marguerite would feel a thrill at being so close to such a magnificent vessel, but tonight her anger and frustration overrode her curiosity.

  She had to focus on pushing her emotions aside and set her brain to work. She watched the deck hands and counted them—only three tonight, and they all seemed a bit tipsy. There were four bots, however, that were rather too on task. There were three anchors holding the ship to the lower dock of a small aership tower. She supposed the towers with giant ramps made it easier to load and unload quickly, as opposed to civilized ships that weren’t rushing to rid themselves of illegal cargo.

  Jacques continued to lead the way onto the ship and then down the first set of stairs. Below deck, everything was lit by silver light. It was cool and cast a gloom on everything, making their situation seem even more dire. Marguerite kept trying to get Jacques’s attention again, but he paid her no heed. He just kept walking until he came to a door before the bow of the ship. They had to be close to the bridge. This must be Captain Douleur’s cabin.

  Jacques opened the door and held up an arm indicating the girls should enter. They had no choice with Boots, the hulking, yet very quiet copper bot right behind them. Jacques signaled for Outil to stay by his side. “I can handle them from here, Boots. Thank you,” Jacques said.

  “Sir, I should chain them to the rings as the captain ordered,” Boots reminded Marguerite of her father’s own Faulks back home. What she wouldn’t give to see that bumbling hunk of metal again.

  “I’ve got it. I know how she likes them. Remember, I spent a few days there myself.” Boots nodded and walked back up the hall the way they’d come. Jacques didn’t waste a moment. He whisked all four into the room and shut the door, locking it behind him.

  Inside the room was all black and red velvet. The walls were hung with thick curtains, and the furnishings were all padded with the finest of cloth. The bed was round in shape and filled all
the free floor space. Along one side were several port holes. Along the other side, metal rings hung from the ceiling and others lay attached to the floor. On the wall were sharp instruments that appeared to be from a doctor’s kit, along with what was obviously a branding iron with a large swirling “D” as the insignia.

  “She tortures people in her bedroom?” Lucy gasped.

  “Yes, she does,” Jacques answered. “Outil, can you cut these chains?” He pulled up Marguerite’s hand and examined her wrists.

  “Jacques! You are alive!” Marguerite was blubbering like a fool now. She couldn’t get her words out fast enough, but she knew she had to say them, before she was tortured, before they were all dead, before he left this room and she might not ever see him again. She didn’t even care if Lucy heard.

  “I love you, and I’m so very sorry. You have to know how sorry I am that I got you captured and tortured. You weren’t tortured were you? Oh, she hasn’t branded you, has she? Deep down I think I only wanted to be with you. I know you probably don’t want me anymore, but I don’t think I could live another day if I didn’t have your forgiveness. Oh, please, forgive me, Jacques. Please?” This was the very bottom of the barrel. Her face was wet with tears, and her nose ran into her mouth. She could neither pat it dry nor hide her shame and sorrow. But if this is what it took, she would humiliate herself every day to show how grateful she was that he didn’t die because of her stupidity. She’d do anything to convince him that she loved him.

  “Marguerite,” he said as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face himself, cupping it with his free hand. “I am just fine, very surprised to see you here in the middle of pirate country, but then again, I should have expected you wouldn’t leave me behind. Of course I forgive you, and of course, I still love you, and of course, I want to marry you still. I am the one who should have apologized. You had every right to be on the Renegade. I should have told you about my mission and had you help me instead of pushing you away. And yet, your crazy stunts have actually made my job so much easier.”

  Outil stepped in with her multi-tool hand and easily cut the chain holding Marguerite’s hands together then moved onto cut Lucy’s. Marguerite threw herself on Jacques. “What on earth are you talking about?” She stood on tippy toes and held him as tightly as she could with both arms around his neck.

  “I couldn’t tell you in Montreal; it was classified. I still shouldn’t tell you; except that now you are here, I need your help. With your brains and my brawn, we can be free of this place in less than an hour.”

  “Tell me what? What are you talking about?” Marguerite leaned back and looked at his face. He wiped the rest of her tears away and handed her the handkerchief.

  “I’ll tell you while we search. We need to find the plans for the ship. I know they are kept in here somewhere. I saw her looking at them one day when she thought I wasn’t watching.” Jacques moved to the wardrobe in one corner and started digging through the dresses and fine black aersuits hanging in perfect order. He turned to Lucy, Marguerite, and Outil. “Hurry! Start looking in those drawers. It must be in here somewhere.”

  Marguerite was still stunned, but she did as she was told and opened the top drawer of a bureau. It was filled with fine undergarments of every variety. Marguerite blushed as she pushed aside the private items of the most feared woman on earth and asked again, “What did you want to tell me?”

  “My mission was not to accompany the fleet back home. They knew Douleur would come flying as soon as she heard about the size of the shipments bound for New France. The King made sure that the information was leaked. My assignment was to somehow infiltrate her ship and find out as much as I could about the technology she is using and where it came from.”

  Marguerite stopped her search and stared at him as he frantically checked for secret compartments in the wardrobe. “You mean, you meant to get yourself captured all along?”

  “Well, not exactly captured, but yes. That’s how it worked out. And after a couple of days on the rings, she accepted me into her crew and even into the engine room. One of the liquidizing boilers sprung a leak, and the whole thing almost blew sky high on the way home.”

  “So, you knew all along that you were going to leave me for pirates, and you didn’t tell me?” Marguerite was stunned. It had been a bad day for surprises. “You wanted to get caught by pirates.”

  Jacques had moved onto a trunk under a porthole while Lucy and Outil looked through a side table and smaller chest by the bed. “I didn’t want to get caught by pirates, and I didn’t want to leave you.” Jacque looked sideways at her standing there staring at him. He took two quick steps and pulled her into his arms. “You didn’t want to get married, and a single officer can’t turn down a commission, especially when he blew his first and last ship to smithereens. I had no choice. But we are here now, and we have a chance to get out of this.” He held her close and kissed her cheek. “Please, help me find the plans. I almost have the boiler repaired, and with Outil’s help we can understand how it works and fly the whole ship away!”

  “But what about the crew? How are we supposed to overpower them?” Lucy asked.

  “I’ve had a chance to speak to some of them. They are all here against their will. Most of them wouldn’t mind a change of leadership. We just have to get back to the engine rooms and get this bird in the aether.”

  Marguerite suddenly felt very weary as well as foolish. She turned back to the dresser and thought about what he’d said, as she continued to dig through the unmentionables and trinkets. It was true, if he’d been married, or even engaged, he could have turned down the commission. It just never occurred to Marguerite that he would turn down a commission. She certainly wouldn’t have. Especially not a marvelous undercover job like this. Or maybe she would have?

  She dug through the drawer as she dug through her feelings. There were buttons of strange makes lining the bottom of each drawer. Some held clothing, some strange devices like those on the wall. The bottom drawer was filled with papers. Marguerite pulled them out one by one, focused on discovering schematics for a ship. She would have time later to process the truth of the past month’s events once she survived this night. She had to survive this night and then she would make up her heart and mind about her next step in life. As she knelt on the floor and tried to quickly sort through the mess, she had to keep throwing her skirts out of the way. Finally, out of frustration she stood up and walked to the wardrobe. “I’ve already looked there, my love,” Jacques said.

  “I’m not looking for your paper; I’m getting into something more functional. If we are going to steal a pirate ship, I need to dress the part.” She pulled down a flight suit and started to peel off her dress.

  Jacques cried “Oh!” in alarm and turned away. Good, she thought, maybe he’s not a rake after all.

  She pulled on the warm, yet light, fabric and fastened the buttons; then she filled her new pockets—Hooray! It had pockets!—with the strange pistol Claude had given her. She pulled her goggles on over her up do and set back to work on her drawer. She set aside each useless paper and finally turned to Lucy, “Can you come help me with this? There are just too many for me to go through alone.”

  “I should put on a flight suit as well,” Lucy said as she tried to kneel on the floor in the billowing green frock.

  “Help yourself.” Marguerite nodded to the wardrobe still standing full of clothes.

  Lucy stood again. “Don’t look, Captain.”

  Jacques turned away and groaned as he pored over the contents of the trunk. “These are all employment agreements. Who knew pirates were so thorough in their paperwork? It’s maddening. However, they do make quite a bit more money than I ever would in the Royal Aerforce.

  As Lucy joined Marguerite again on the floor, Marguerite pulled out a bundle of letters tied with a red ribbon. She began to untie it until the script in the corner of one page caught her eye. It was familiar. It certainly wasn’t a s
et of plans for a ship. But she knew these were important papers, so she slipped them in her free pocket and kept digging as she tried to place how she knew that script. They soon were at the bottom of the stack and had found nothing but more contracts and a few personal telegraphs.

  Marguerite stood and put her hands on her hips as she turned about the cabin studying the contents and layout. If I were a vile pirate in possession of priceless engineering documents, where would I hide them? She thought. Probably next to my other most prized possessions.

  It was clear that Captain Douleur enjoyed her silk undergarments, but Marguerite had been through that drawer. She continued to scan the room and think. Her gaze fell on the rings attached to the floor and the shining silver tools hanging from the wall. Anyone who enjoyed torturing people in their room, and owned tools like this, having kept them in such polished and sharpened order, obviously prized them.

  Marguerite took a few steps closer and shuddered as she reached out to touch the edge of a massive knife. It was as sharp as a razor. A hook hung next to it, long and slender, also polished to a high shine and sharp at the tip. She supposed this wasn’t for any kind of yarn work. A small saw hung next to that, then a piece of thick wire with wooden knobs at either end. Marguerite didn’t have the stomach or imagination to wonder what that could be used for, but she did notice a slit in the wood just behind the tools. She took hold of the hook holding the knife to the wall and pulled carefully. Sure enough, the whole section of the wall slid out revealing a secret compartment. “I’ve got it!” she cried. “She had them behind her tools.”

  “Brilliant, my girl,” Jacques cried as he crossed the room and took the plans.

  “Now what?” Marguerite asked.

  “Now to the engine room,” Jacques said. Then he regarded Marguerite for a moment, his hand on the door handle, ready to leave. “Marguerite, in that outfit, you look just like her.” The door swung open, startling them all. Jacques jumped back and reached for a weapon that he didn’t have. Captain Douleur stood in the doorway with a pistol in each hand, Boots at her back.